Chapter 375: James Had a Car and No Useful Fear

The man holding our missing brake assembly suggested using his car to tow the freight service, which was the first time I had seen a rescue offer arrive already needing rescue.

His car sat low enough to scrape a dropped sandwich, with black windows, polished wheels and a rear exhaust that sounded expensive whenever he touched the throttle. Beside it, he wore a dark tracksuit and enough jewelry to make a metal detector develop trust issues.

He was somewhere in his mid-twenties, grinning like consequences were a subscription he had canceled.

"I’m James, and before anyone gets dramatic, I paid for this," he said, raising the assembly again. "Bloke at the last service yard said it was surplus. That’s a proper business word, so obviously I believed him."

The driver took the receipt and read it twice. Then he pointed at the empty bracket beneath our platform, which had apparently failed to qualify as a warning during the sale.

James looked between them and sighed. "Right, so the surplus bit was optimistic."

His accent reminded me of a British roadman who would have driven an Audi back on Earth. This world hadn’t supplied either Britain or Audis, but apparently the universe produced the same man wherever somebody invented a loud exhaust.

[System: Finally, a bloke whose common sense packed its bags before his voice broke. Don’t stand too close, mate, or the stupid might start breeding.]

You had been encouraging me to steal towels less than an hour ago.

[System: Useful household goods, you flappy red strap. I didn’t suggest towing public transport with a bloody doorstop.]

The driver told James to put the part down. James asked whether returning stolen goods he had accidentally purchased came with a ride to the repair yard, because his car had cracked its coolant housing on the maintenance road.

That explained why he had been standing beside the track instead of demonstrating his towing plan. A wet patch spread beneath the car, and a cheap recovery cable already lay beside its front wheel.

I asked whether he had bought the brake assembly to fix the leak.

"Nah, mate, that’s for a job tomorrow. Different stupid decision entirely."

The maintenance crew reached us before I could ask how many he kept active at once. They fitted the spare, checked the damaged coupling and arranged a slow tow toward the yard while James negotiated space for his car on an empty vehicle flatbed.

He paid the fee without complaining, then tried to sell the clerk a discount on the brake assembly he had just returned. The clerk shut her window before he finished explaining the warranty.

Lukas watched him climb aboard and whispered that I had finally met someone I shouldn’t be left alone with.

"That sounded unfair, considering you had recently become a wedding attraction while drunk."

"I regretted that afterward, which seemed like an important difference."

The tow carried us out of the largest ribs by late afternoon. Beyond them, Glasswake spread across a flat stretch of black stone and pale grit, with salvage sheds clustered around pumps and fenced water tanks.

The repair yard sold rooms above its workshop because stranded travelers could either sleep nearby or become somebody else’s salvage. We paid one hundred eighty credits for a room with a lock, a wide bench and enough floor space for me to rest without blocking the toilet.

James paid for the room beside ours and left his car with a mechanic who took one look underneath it and laughed until the customer service part of his personality returned.

Our crawler came off its flatbed undamaged. Lukas checked the wheel restraints and tire seals while I reviewed the messages waiting at the yard relay. The girls had received our arrival update, and Lyra wanted a proper call after dinner.

James found us beside the water tap and recognized Rex in the photograph on Lukas’s phone.

"That white-suit prick owed me for three contract runs," he said. "Kept saying the exposure was worth more than money, so I asked if he’d accept exposure at the fuel pump."

He showed us the unpaid invoices on his own phone, then the delivery map for a sponsor reception scheduled the next morning. His work had included driving one of Rex’s mobile service buildings along the maintenance roads.

I showed him the timed cage release. His grin faded while the creature unfolded on the recording, and for a few seconds he watched without trying to improve the scene with commentary.

Then he asked whether Rex still kept his route console in the same private vehicle.

"Would knowing that help us avoid him?"

"Depends whether you planned to avoid him while driving his stuff away."

I liked how quickly he had identified my preferred direction of travel.

James drew a service route on a paper napkin, keeping it clear of the road observers who checked Rex’s advertised vehicle photographs. He knew the staff gate, the shift change and the control layout because he had delivered the vehicle there himself.

In return for getting us inside, he wanted an agreed share of whatever portable salvage we could legally fail to return. I wanted the route console and evidence. Lukas wanted both of us to stop using the word legally in ways that made it nervous.

We agreed that no staff or guests would travel with us, no one would get locked inside, and James would keep the salvage only after we escaped. The main vehicle was too large to hide or keep, which he seemed to find personally disappointing.

He showed us the reception booking, including a photograph of a huge white vehicle with folded balconies, brass rails and a private steam room.

Rex traveled with an entire bathhouse.

Before I finished admiring the size of the theft, James turned his phone around and showed Lukas the new staff confirmation.

The bathhouse had accepted a replacement attendant for the morning, and the attached uniform photograph contained considerably more towel than clothing.