Edge of Redemption (A Star Too Far Book 3) by Casey Calouette

enemy. It was an option, a start, a place to leap off from. A leap, she thought, that might have a hard landing.

CHAPTER NINE
    E milie took a deep breath and tasted the tangy recycled air in the back of her mouth. She was ready to be out of this bucket. As ready as she ever was. She stood and listened to her knees crack.
    “Ms. Rose,” Salamasina’s voice purred over the intercom.
    Emilie felt her hair rise just listening to the voice. She tapped her fingers against the intercom but didn’t push the button yet. Did she want to talk? “What is it?”
    “We’re in system, scans coming in, as you requested.”
    The excitement started to rise. The first time she’d been back since leaving all those years ago. Would she know anyone? “Great, send it to my console,” she said in as level a tone as she could manage.
    “Negative. Too much data, come to the bridge,” Salamasina said with a hint of arrogance.
    Emilie wanted to slap the intercom just for good measure, but instead kept silent and tugged on a jacket.
    She’d been waiting for this, to see what she actually purchased. Not just sketchy line items that were four months old, but real live assets. Robotic miners, automated refineries, orbital silos. All Core, no, she thought, all hers .
    The hallways, normally empty and quiet, were filled with crew of the Gallipoli . Men and women hauled and shifted as the accumulated layer of filth from the voyage was scrubbed away. Only the smell of harsh chemical cleaners did anything to change the taste of the ship.
    Emilie passed through with a professional indifference. She knew how these things went. It was the same whether it was a superlev, an elevator, or even a short trip arcjet: people had to organize. She stepped and dodged and found her way to the bridge.
    The bridge was a sharp change from the chaos happening down the hall. A set of sleek granite topped consoles huddled beneath overhead displays. Mustafa sat on the top of one. Samalasina relaxed in a reclining chair with silvery leads trailing out of her head.
    The professionalism and design of the bridge always impressed Emilie. Every time she walked on she felt like she was on a different ship, a ship where some two-bit merc wasn’t running the show. She nodded to Salamasina and stood next to Mustafa. “Which console can I take?”
    Mustafa glanced at Salamasina and smiled back at Emilie. His mustache was growing back in, but was not the thick mass of luxurious broomstick bristles like most Turkish men could wear. “Any,” he said in an indifferent tone.
    Emilie felt something was off, like a joke she had just walked in on. She glanced around and took a seat next to Mustafa.
    The display scrolled rapidly and abruptly stopped. Assets were listed, ranked, categorized. Each was followed by a list of astrological details. Velocity, acceleration, vector.
    Emilie squinted and leaned in closer. She tapped her fingers onto the cool slab of granite and scrolled down the list. Something was wrong. It came back to her, all assets in system . Samson! Dirty son-of-a-bitch, she thought, he moved the assets out.
    “Very good, thank you Mustafa,” she said.
    Mustafa looked over to Salamasina and shrugged slightly in disappointment. He slid off the console and returned to the Captain’s chair. The one thing on the bridge that was original was the alloy and strap covered chair. It would almost look proper with an old style maritime wheel before it.
    The betrayal she felt was only surpassed by the anger. Anger at no one but herself. She should have known better. She purchased all assets in system. All Samson would have to do is send a courier and have the automated systems pack up and leave. A part of her respected the wit, the ability to bend the rules to his advantage. But as her eyes scanned the meager list what she expected was significantly reduced.
    A small fleet of robotic asteroid miners, the kind that were new technology thirty years before. The refinery ships were a