The Watchtower of Rustoria (The Chronicles of Omicron, #2) / The Chronicles of Omicron (ePub)

Omicron is a planet where the humans are the invading aliens. Corin is a native of Omicron, an aquatic assassin with a fantastical water version of asthma. She could be in the middle of ending a target only to wake up minutes later, having fainted. When she is sent on her final contract, she discovers it is quite possibly the biggest contract of her life: to assassinate every elite member of the Hand. Joining her are an ancient graffiti-covered robot, a know-it-all little girl, and a brilliant mechanist with mechanical legs . . . who just might be the new love in her life.

Quotes:

Corin knew that, to the child, she probably looked tall and sinister, a masked stranger in black with cold and distant eyes, gloves dripping with blood. She didn't feel very sinister, though. In fact, she could really go for a corndog.

-

"I think she liked you," went on Yardley. "When you came back, she got all shy again and wouldn't look up. I was hoping you'd kiss her."

"Kiss her?" repeated Corin in disgust. "Why?"

"Well, you saved her," Yardley said in exasperation. "When people get saved in stories, they always kiss their rescuer. It's romantic."

"This isn't a story," Corin said flatly, "and there's nothing romantic about getting beat up and robbed."

-

"One has to wonder what you do with all those riggits anyway," said Hectra, dragging a critical eye up and down Corin's tattered plaid coat. "You don't have a lick of fashion sense, so it's not going toward clothes." She snorted. "You're the only assassin I've ever known who wears flannel and combat boots."

Corin's lips tightened irritably.

"You don't use a gun," went on Hectra, unperturbed, "so it's not going toward ammo. Why don't you use a gun, by the way?"

"No reloading," Corin answered simply.

"Ah. And I suppose a blade is easier to get through customs."

--

"You ready for this?" said Theodora, coming to Corin's side as she roughly cocked her rifle. Corin thought the robot sounded a little sinister. She liked that.

"Yeah," answered Corin. "What about you? Your leg was pretty messed up."

"I'll get another one," said Theodora with a shrug. She paused and added in genuine delight, ". . . Thanks for the concern."

Corin nodded. She thought it had to be an unhappy thing, constantly losing pieces of oneself and replacing them with pieces from other people. Then it took her a moment to realize she had just thought of robots as people, and she wondered what was happening to her.

--

Xandra shook her head. "I don't understand you, Corin. Sometimes I wish I could take you apart piece by piece and maybe figure you out."

"I'm not one of your machines --!"

"I know. You're more god-damned beautiful than anything I've ever created," said the mechanist seriously.