Death Cultivator by eden Hudson (best books to read .TXT) 📕

special implantation appointment with the Greater Universal Monitoring Community?”

I didn’t like the sound of that.

I must’ve made a face, because Kest said, “USL won’t report you if you say no. A lot of people get disconnected accounts and claim they don’t have an implant so creditors can’t trace them.”

“Oh. Then I’ll pass.”

Ursul didn’t blink a giant eye. “Would you like to link a HUD to your account today?”

“Yeah,” I said, holding up my Winchester. “What do I need to do?”

She leaned over and looked at the screen. Her huge black eyes started blinking blue, then stopped.

“HUD link complete. How much will you be depositing in your account today, Grady Hake?”

“Um...”

“Just say zero,” Kest whispered.

“Zero?”

“Okay, I have one account for Grady Hake, b-b-blood type O, with a balance of zero credits, linked to Winchester Arms HUD serial number 0009926. Is everything correct?”

I checked the number etched into the side of the HUD screen.

“Yes.”

“Thanks, Grady Hake, and welcome to the Universal Savings and Loan family, where we make your credits work for you!” She gave me a frozen smile, then looked at Kest. “Is there anything I can—” Her image glitched again. “—ything I can do for you today, Iye Skal Irakest?”

“I need to withdraw a tenner in physical currency,” Kest said.

There was some mechanical grinding inside the teller’s counter, then a section of counter flipped over, revealing a handful of silver coins the size of quarters. Kest scooped them off the edge into her hand.

“That’s it,” she said.

“Thanks for stopping by ... Iye Skal Irakest and ... Grady Hake,” Ursul said. “Y’all come back and see us real soon!”

Back out on the street, I told Kest, “I’m starting to get why Rali doesn’t want to be part of this whole Big Brother thing.”

“Rali’s not my big brother. He’s younger than me by eleven minutes.”

“No, I just mean everything here wants to know everything about you. I feel like I got off lucky that she didn’t ask for my family tree to six generations and a fresh stool sample.”

Kest shrugged. “It’s a system of trade-offs. Privacy for convenience.” Then she shook the coins in her fist. “Convenience for people whose brothers have their own bank accounts, anyway.”

Rali was still at the general store when we got there, leaning on the counter and joking with the hunched reptilian guy behind it.

“Here’s your payment now,” Rali said when he saw us. He rolled his eyes and hooked a thumb at the reptile. “Apek still isn’t accepting barter.”

“Is ancient history,” Apek hissed. “Cash for goods is civilization.”

“What do you even have to barter with?” Kest asked her brother.

Sensing this was probably going to be a longer stop, I set down Kest’s million-pound bag of metal.

“The compressor went out of Apek’s cold-air flow,” Rali said, grinning. “And I just so happen to know someone who can fix it.”

That explained why it felt twice as hot in the general store as it had in the street. We’d only been there for a second, but already my pits were soaked. Apek didn’t seem to notice the heat—maybe he was an ectotherm like lizards on Earth—but Rali’s face and arms were lined with faint networks of black capillaries, and sweat trickled down his temples. Kest’s skin-lace was starting to fade in, too, around her eyes and the back of her neck, where fine hairs from her double messy-buns were sticking to her skin.

“Yeah.” Apek jerked his head at Kest a couple times in a weird lizardlike nod. “You fix?”

“You take service in trade for good?” Rali hissed back in a pretty decent imitation.

Apek narrowed his flat eyes at the guy. “Store can’t take services in trade from non-OSS member. Can pay for outside work, though. If Kest fix.”

“I can take a look at it,” Kest said. “If it’s the compressor, I can machine something. But if it’s the vapor, you’ll have to order a refill from the city. I’ve got to head over to the saloon right now, but I’ll come back by later and check it out.”

“We negotiate price for service then,” Apek said.

Rali sighed. “Pay the gentle-zard his misplaced trust’s worth in credits, Kest.”

“How much?” she asked.

“Two for broth cubes, one for rice flour, six for raw sugar cake,” Apek said, pointing a claw at the brown paper packages and small cloth bag lined up on the counter.

Kest scowled. “Sugar was three credits last time we bought it.”

“Had lots then.” Apek shrugged.

“But Naph’s back. I just talked to him. Didn’t he bring you supplies?”

“Space moth brought no sugar. Said Moyeaux had rolling drought destroy sugar cane on half the planet.”

With a scowl, Kest dropped nine of the coins from the bank into the reptile’s outstretched paw, then turned to Rali and held out the last one. He wrinkled his nose like when he smelled those flesh boots the night before.

“I don’t even want to sully my skin by touching it,” he said.

“But you’ll spend six of them on sugar,” she muttered.

“For sweet mochi. Hake said he’d never had any.”

I put up my hands. “Hey, don’t drag me into this.”

“Besides, you love mochi,” Rali said to his sister. “You know you’ll eat some, too.”

Ignoring him, Kest turned to me. “Want a coffee drank?” I opened my mouth to say no thanks, but she kept talking, dumping a whole bunch of information out like she had earlier about the HUD. “I’m getting me one, and Apek doesn’t give out change for physical currency, so if you pass on yours, I’ll be wasting half a coin.”

I shut my mouth. When she put it like that, I couldn’t say no without being a jerk, and I was pretty sure she knew it. Well, two could play at that game. I mentally added a credit to whatever I owed her for the Winchester.

“I could go for some coffee,” I admitted. Normally, I’d have already gulped down a few cups of joe by then. Without it, the familiar no-caffeine headache was starting to set in at the back of my skull like a