The Worst Spies in the Sector (Dumb Luck and Dead Heroes, #2)

by Skyler Ramirez

Do you know how much it costs to run a starship? I didn’t. When your entire adult life is spent in the Navy, trivialities like the cost of operating the ships you serve on don’t often come up. When you need fuel, a tanker is there to provide it. When you need more missiles, a tender comes alongside, and you’re good to go. When your uniform wears out, you get a new one from the quartermaster. When you need booze, you find whatever still the enlisted spacers have set up, and you ‘confiscate’ it and the product. And on and on and on.

drags me out of the tiny office before I can get too deep into questioning the broker’s parentage and implying some pretty terrible things about his mother.

Not everything I do is stupid.

“You OK?” I ask. “I’m fine,” she answers a bit too quickly. Nice try, but I used to be married. I know exactly what ‘I’m fine’ means. Or rather, I know exactly what it doesn't mean.

It turns out that, every once in a while, I can do something right. I just hope she doesn’t get used to that.

Love stinks. Someone should write a song about that.

Which is too bad; I was really hoping the prior occupant left behind a crowbar or a Series T-1000 laser assault rifle. At this point, I’d even take a particularly sharp toothpick.

I love it when useful fools fill in the blanks for me.

By hiding the info where only you can find it, all I need to do is take you out of the equation, and then no one will ever find it.”

Who chooses a fake name that’s just their real name in another language? Even spies and traitors should have higher standards than that.