Chapter 12.3

I passed through another car of private compartments and then into the dining car. Though we were barely underway, a few couples doted the tables and a man sat at the small bar alone. I checked my wrist interface, bringing up my digital kredit with a few strokes and sighed. Most of my kredit had been put aside into an account that I could only deposit until it hit ten thousand kredit, enough to pay a smuggler to get me out of the capital. On hand, I had twenty kredit, maybe enough for a small meal or a few drinks.

“Can I get you anything?” the man at the bar asked as I walked up.

“Just a glass of water, please,” I said taking a seat. I ran the screen of my wrist interface across the reader that popped up in front of me. The screen vanished and I watched the number go from twenty to seventeen, gawking at the price of a glass of water. “Th—th—three kredit for a glass of water?”

“Sorry, honey, I don’t set the prices,” the bartender shrugged. “Military gets half price though. Computer does it automatically when you scan in.”

SIX KREDIT FOR A GLASS OF WATER! What the—who the—why the—nobody has that much kredit just laying around for water of all things. Seriously, who charges six kredit for a glass of water.

“Yeah, I had the same look on my face when I first ordered something here,” the man from down the bar said. He picked up his beer and walked over to me. “Everything is so expensive here. Unless of course, you work for the train company.”

I raised an eyebrow at the man as he held up the now empty bottle in his hand and two fingers to the bartender, who set two bottles down next to my glass of water. “I didn’t think train employees were allowed to drink while on duty,” I said.

“Well, technically they aren’t. However, I’m only on duty if someone decides to try to attack the train,” he said. He took one of the frosty bottles and raised it to his lips before pausing. “The other one is yours.”

I eyed the bottle next to my water suspiciously. If water cost six kredit, then what did beer cost? I might not be able to afford a beer. Time seemed to draw itself out obnoxiously long as I bounced the idea around my head about if I could even afford to pay this man back for a single bottle of beer if a glass of water would have nearly cut my funds in half.

“Don’t worry about how much the beer costs, just drink it, you look like you could use one,” he said.

I picked up the glass, feeling the chill seep into my fingers as I did so. I took a small sip of the hoppy liquid, promising to make the bottle last as long as I could. “So, you’re the security onboard, what firm are you from?” I asked.

“We’re freelance, the train company pays us directly,” he said.

“So you’re a mercenary,” I said. “Why not fight on the front lines? You could probably get really good pay out there.”

“Because there are enemies closer to home, one’s the Alliance considers allies,” he said.

“The resistance,” I clarified.

“That’s the one,” he said.

“Do you guys guard every train leaving this station?” I asked taking another sip of my beer.

My question caught him with the bottle to his lips. He swallowed quickly and shook his head. “Nope, just this one.”

“Oh, and why is that?” I asked.

“No need to worry yourself with it,” he said.

I reached under my shirt and pulled out my dog tags. “Please?” I asked holding them up. The man reached over and flipped the one over to look at the back, staring at the dead head insignia engraved into the metal.

“I didn’t realize you were a dead head,” he said. “So sorry ma’am. We have it on good word from a trusted source that there will be a group of resistance members travelling to the capital by train from the station we just left today.”

They have someone inside the Resistance? How? The induction seemed pretty…that was only soldiers who got captured. I didn’t have to execute someone I served with; I got accepted with a nod of the head. A member that came willingly to the resistance, signing up of their own free will. Oh no…

“You have people inside the Resistance?” I asked.

“A few, yes,” he confirmed.

“And what about in your group, do you have any resistance spies among your ranks?” I asked.

“The Resistance has tried several times to plant a spy in the Loyalists, they’ve failed every time,” the man said. "We send the remains back, or the heads anyway."

Oh. Isn’t that reassuring? I need to get going, tell the others that there are loyalists aboard. But maybe… “Do you know where these resistance members are?” I asked.

“In one of the private compartments,” he said.

The squeal of brakes hit my ears in the moment before I flew from my seat. Pain flashed in my head as I struck something, then the floor and everything went dark.