Chilling Effect_A Novel

by Valerie Valdes

“If it does, I’ll have one more thing. And you think Tito will help?”

  “He owes me a favor.”

  Pink shook her head, mouth half-open in disbelief. “I said you’re ridiculous, right?”

  Eva nodded.

  “Fine. Bend over.”

  Eva found Vakar down in the tail of the ship, trying to patch that leak her father had warned her about. He muttered to himself softly as he worked, her translator catching only a few words while the rest were a deep, rhythmic hum like a bass guitar being strummed. He wore thick gloves and a mask to protect his face from the chemicals he mixed, which were strong and acrid enough to disguise his smell, whatever it might be.

  That made her nervous. She had gotten used to being able to read him like a feed, thanks to her translators.

  “Vakar,” she said, ducking into the narrow space. “Do you have a minute to talk?”

  “Can it wait? I am occupied.”

  “Let me rephrase that. It’s talk time.”

  He carefully closed the containers of chemicals but left the mask in place. “That sounds very official.”

  “Don’t sass me.” She knelt, keeping a respectful distance, if only because of the chemicals. “I’ve looked into the cruise, pulled a few strings, called in some favors, and I think we can make this work.”

  “‘We’?”

  “I have a plan, but a lot will depend on you being able to hold your own. If you come.”

  “I believe I would be savvy enough to follow your lead,” Vakar said. “If I went. You are already accustomed to doing most of the talking. And your skills at prevarication are excellent.”

  Sarcasm. Very nice. “Are all quennians as terrible at lying as you are?”

  “Are all humans as rude and insensitive as you are?”

  “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “Your intent does not change your words.”

  “Sorry.” She sighed and picked at the scab on her neck. It was an old friend at this point. “You know, I thought getting the smell translators would help me understand you better, but you—”

  “So you do have them.”

  “What?”

  “Smell translator nanites. When did you obtain them?”

  Eva flushed. “A few months ago, I guess? I thought the upgrade might come in handy.”

  “For your many dealings with quennians.”

  “Right. And ualans.” She’d never even seen an ualan.

  “I do not have a human tonal translator, but that did not sound entirely truthful.”

  This conversation is getting away from you, mija, Eva told herself. But she found she couldn’t figure out how to say . . . anything.

  Vakar turned back to the part he was fixing, laying a sheet of metal on top and adjusting it. “To answer your earlier question, no, not everyone is as bad at lying as I am.”

  Eva laughed nervously. “Why is that?”

  “It is what you might term a disability, though of a milder nature than most.” He reopened the chemical container and poured some of the liquid carefully on the metal, where it hissed and steamed. “I struggle to control my scents in ways that others do not. While people may claim to value forthrightness, a certain level of polite dishonesty is typically expected.”

  Eva’s legs started to cramp from crouching for so long, so she sat on the floor and hugged her knees. “What does a lie even smell like?”

  He laid down another sheet of metal. “Guilt. Anxiety. Fear. Discomfort. What does a lie feel like when you tell it?”

  “Like that, I guess. Like bugs squirming in my chest and spreading everywhere else. But I’m the one who put the bugs there.”

  “And yet you do it despite that.”

  She watched the metal melt and warp, then solidify, merging into the part as if it had always been there. “Maybe you would, too, if you could get away with it.”

  “Perhaps. Certainly other quennians evolved to be adept at hiding undesirable scents, as well as finding ways to circumvent the matter entirely.”

  “Weird that quennians didn’t evolve to be really truthful instead of learning how to lie better.”

  “Weird that you did not evolve to be excessively hairy instead of wearing clothing.”

  “Remind me to take you to a nudist colony sometime. Naked humans as far as the eye can see.”

  Vakar didn’t respond, instead pouring out more of that chemical. Hiss. Steam.

  Eva coughed and ran a hand through her short blond hair. She couldn’t wait to go black again. Maybe later. Did she have any hair dye? She’d never needed it before. Maybe Pink had something. Okay, now she was stalling. Or letting herself be stalled. Maybe Vakar was stalling, too?

  Pinga. The problem with telling the truth was that sometimes it felt as bug-creepy as telling a lie.

  “So the plan.”

  “The plan,” he echoed.

  “You and me.”

  “Right.”

  “We could go on the cruise as a couple.”

  His hand shook, spilling one of the chemicals onto his glove. He swore, which was translated into something like “spawn of a waste shoveler,” and pulled the glove off, tossing it against the plating.

  “You okay?” Eva asked, trying to get a look at the hand.

  “No,” he said.

  “Pink can—”

  “My hand is fine, Captain.”

  “Ah. So we’re back to ‘Captain,’” she said. “That’s fair.” And it was, after all that had happened. It wasn’t what she had hoped to hear, but it was just as well. “I wasn’t sure about it either, that’s why I came down here. I’ll make a new plan. Don’t worry about it.”

  She stood, as much as she could stand in the cramped space, and immediately felt dizzy. From the fumes, she told herself. It would pass. These things always did.

  “You want to know about quennian emotions?” Vakar yanked the mask off, throwing it next to the glove. His gray-blue eyes were dark as stormy water. “Here is what a translator will not tell you. When we desire a mate, it is obvious, because our smells begin to synchronize.”

  She leaned against a bulkhead as the room listed sideways. “Huh.”

  “That is how we are able to indicate interest. It is like . . . like how one human will smile, and then another will smile in response. Then you know the interest is mutual.” The acrid scent of the chemicals was starting to dissipate, or he was getting worked up, but either way she was starting to get a whiff of him. Tar and cigarettes. Dude was a bundle of bother.

  “Smiling is a little more complicated than that.” She hunkered down in front of him again, a few steps closer. He avoided her eyes.

  “As is this.” He covered his face with his bare claw. “It does not matter, because it does not mean anything. Because your body does not function the same way mine does.”

  Eva knelt, leaning forward, one hand on the floor. “So what do I smell like, exactly?”

  His palps twitched, the barest hint of licorice creeping in. “It is difficult to explain.”

  “Is it.” She crawled closer, a smile touching her lips. “So. The plan.”

  “The plan?” His blue-gray eyes searched hers.

  “I thought, hey, we could take care of the most glaring lie. To make things easier.”

  He sighed, closing his eyes. More cigarettes. “Easier to lie about? No, thank you.”

  “It’s only a lie if you want it to be.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “You smell like candy,” she said. “Delicious goddamn candy.”

  “Delicious?” The licorice level crept up slightly. “I do not understand. You said we were not . . . You told me to leave.”

  “I was lying.”

  “And now?”

  Eva sat back on her knees, centimeters from his leg. “What if I told you I would never leave you or lie to you again?”

  “Eva.” He reached out a trembling claw to touch her hair.

  She grabbed his hand and licked it. Vakar snatched it back, sta
ring at her.

  “You will hallucinate,” he said.

  “I already got a shot from Pink. In my meaty backside, in fact. I’ve also been doing other kinds of research. Very scientific.”

  “Research? What, like—”

  She ran a finger along the inside of his left palp. His inner eyelids slammed shut and he made a low twanging sound.

  “So that memvid was accurate.” Eva grinned and straddled Vakar’s lap. “Let’s run some more tests, hmm? There was one position especially that looked— Well. It’s probably easier to show you. If you want.”

  He grabbed her and pulled her closer, which she took as a yes. Especially since it smelled like someone had set off a licorice bomb in the tiny space.

  Delicious.

  Eva never knew what to do with herself after sex. Clean up, maybe. Sneak back to her bunk. Grab something to eat. Whatever would get her away from the other person quickly, so she wouldn’t have to engage in any awkward small talk.

  Because before, she’d only ever knocked gravboots with strangers and fellow crewmates—on other ships, of course. So either she wasn’t likely to see them again and she didn’t feel like pretending otherwise, or she’d definitely have to see them again and didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. People had needs, like eating or peeing. Simple.

  It was all fun and games until someone got serious. She had never wanted to be that someone, and she didn’t want anyone else getting the wrong idea.

  This, though. It crossed all kinds of lines, then looped back around and crossed them again. Not to mention she had lied to herself about her feelings for so long that now she didn’t know what to do about them. She was like a dog chasing its own tail; catching it wasn’t a victory, it was biting herself in the ass.

  Pink was right. This was a mistake. What was she thinking?

  Vakar stirred under her, smelling content, like cinnamon or nutmeg or some other kind of spice that made her think of winter holidays. But it was laced with anxiety, concern, even a hint of fear and guilt.

  Eva thought about what he’d said about lying, and wondered.

  “I should go,” she said, sitting up.

  “Should you?” he asked.

  She hesitated, then nodded. “I need to . . . you know.”

  “What?”

  Clean up. Eat. Cry? Punch things? Damn it, Eva, say something. “I need to figure out a cover story to get on that ship.” Fucking brilliant.

  “Of course.” Now he smelled disappointed. “I will not keep you.”

  Eva lay back down. “It’s really not fair that I can smell every damn thing you’re feeling, is it.”

  “I am accustomed to that inequity.” He ran the back of a claw along her arm. “Though until now, I had not realized you had the requisite translator nanites.”

  “Yeah, well. You probably figured out I didn’t get them for shits and giggles.”

  “They are not inexpensive.”

  “That’s what Pink said when she found out.” Eva chuckled. “If I’d known someone was going to blackmail me for an assload of credits . . . Actually, I probably would have gotten them anyway. And a bunch of other stuff. Blown my whole savings so at least I’d have something to show for it.”

  “What is an ‘assload’?”

  She told him, and he sat up so fast he knocked his head on a pipe.

  “You cannot be serious,” he said, rubbing his injury.

  “Serious as a heart attack.” She pulled on her underwear, which wouldn’t stay up due to apparent battle damage. She gave up and tossed them, reaching for her pants instead.

  “Maybe I should thank Glorious for putting that hit out,” she said bitterly. “Gave me a reason to fight instead of rolling over and showing my belly for the rest of my life, however short it will be either way.”

  “I will help you.” Vakar’s smell had charred at the edges in anger.

  “No, that’s— No. I didn’t come down here for that. I mean, I did, but . . . Ay, mierda.” She stared at the ceiling. “I said things, before. And then everything happened, and I thought I’d never see you again.”

  “I thought the same.”

  “I have fucked up a lot of things in my life,” Eva said. “I can count on one hand how many will stay with me until the end. Maybe this wouldn’t have been one of them. But I did not want to find out the hard way.”

  And just like that, she felt hollow, like she’d been carrying a giant rock in her stomach and she’d finally dug it out and tossed it out the airlock. But she wanted to cry, too, and scream, and punch things. She’d never been so desperate in her life, not even when she was staring down the barrel of a blaster.

  Get your shit together, Eva, she told herself sternly. You do not have time for this.

  “I should go,” she said again, grabbing her shirt.

  “Your plan,” Vakar said. “What was it?”

  She told him, and he smelled amused.

  “I was expecting something more dangerous.”

  “It’s not all gunfights and dasher chases with me,” she said. “But you see how I couldn’t have you smelling weird all over the place.”

  “You realize that could have been accomplished in myriad ways that did not involve the pretense of being my mate.”

  “I may have had ulterior motives. Or primary motives.” She pulled her shirt over her head. “Christ, are you going to be a pain about this? You smell smug as hell.”

  “Eva, I have spent longer than I care to admit wishing I knew how you felt about me. I am most certainly going to revel in the present situation for at least an equal amount of time.”

  She made a disgusted noise. “I’m going to have to find a new engineer, aren’t I?”

  “You are not.” His gray-blue eyes met hers. “And moreover, I will help you with this plan of yours. Make the necessary preparations, and tell me what I must do.”

  Eva wasn’t sure whether she felt relieved or guilty, and finally decided it was perfectly possible to feel both at once.

  “It’ll be fun,” she said. But she couldn’t help but think she was due for another kick in the head.

  One thing was absolutely true, though: she intended to get out of this mess alive and free, and if this was the first step, she was sure as hell going to make it work.

  Chapter 14

  A Night at the Opera

  Eva stood on the deck of the interstellar cruise ship Justified Confidence and thanked the Blessed Virgin that catsuits were in this season, because it meant she didn’t have to slink around in a dress and high heels while pretending to be someone important. Unfortunately, leopard print was also in this season, as were aggressively sloping necklines. Either that, or Pink was playing a cruel trick on her because she knew Eva would trust her on affairs of fashion.

  At least her hair was black again, even if it was still extra short.

  On her arm, Vakar looked as dashing as all the other quennians milling around. His outfit was worse, if that was possible, mostly because it was nearly identical to hers but in a strange geometric pattern with a sash across his chest, so he had what might be termed a boob window, except without boobs. They’d had a good laugh at each other when they first emerged from their respective cabins back on La Sirena Negra, but now that they were in the thick of the undercover operation, they were less amused.

  “Pholise is on deck sixteen, near the theater,” Eva said, calling up the map again on her commlink.

  “They will in all likelihood be guarded,” Vakar said. “But they would not be here if the intent was to sequester them in their cabin for the whole trip. So there is certain to be an event they will be expected to appear at.”

  “Right, show everyone it’s all happy fun times so the treaty gets signed and no one gets shot.” She would definitely have to ask him how he knew so much about this kind of thing. Later.

  Eva watched the stars crawl past at sub–light speed. “Can you believe there was a time when people traveled this slowly because they had no other choice?�
��

  He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “It is good they discovered how to hurry.”

  “If they hadn’t, I’d probably be living a comfortable life on Mars, with a hydroponic farm and a swarm of babies.”

  “You give birth to swarms?” he asked.

  She punched him. “Do you?”

  “Perhaps.”

  She punched him again, then wrapped her arm around his waist. She wasn’t one for displays of affection, but she was determined to make this look legit. It felt nice, but that quiet voice in the back of her head whispered: Don’t get used to it.

  “You know I only have the one sister,” Vakar said. “Did you think the rest of my swarm vanished mysteriously?”

  “My research into your mating habits wasn’t particularly scientific.” Vakar didn’t talk about his family much, either, any more than she did. “What’s your sister’s name, anyway?”

  “Pollea.” He smelled pensive. “Have I never said so?”

  “Nope. You said she’s a scientist, lives in a space station somewhere. That’s it. I figured it was, I mean, that you had reasons—”

  His smell shifted to discomfort, with an edge of shame. They’d wandered into bad space, she thought. Time to reroute.

  “If there’s a big event planned, it’s probably on the ship calendar,” Eva said. “Unless it’s private, in which case we’d have to figure out what rooms are reserved when. Try to narrow down the options.”

  Vakar stared out the window, his smell shifting from relieved back to pensive. “The main activity for the evening appears to be a show in the Grand Amphitheatre. A famous ualan opera performer, Raya’il of the Radiant Blessings.”

  “Ugh, operas. Not my cup of coffee.”

  “That is because your human operas do not engage all your senses.” He smelled spicy for a moment. “Also, they are terrible.”

  “What, you don’t like a little sex and violence buried under a lot of singing?”

  “I do not know, perhaps you can try singing next time we—”

  “No way, you don’t want to hear that.” Eva pulled up the event listing and read through it. “We might as well go, if only to hang around the entrance to try to catch Pholise.”

  He leaned down to brush his palps against her face. “Whatever should we do until then?”