Catalyst

by Jody Wallace

  Open it.

  Then again, what if its contents were valuable? While many containers tended to be crafted from lightweight materials, that didn’t generally include hazmat containers due to the need for stability. Most hazmat wouldn’t kill you immediately, but the aftereffects were murder.

  So were the explosions. But enough about that.

  She adjusted the goggles’ readout, increasing detection strength, and walked all the way around the box, inspecting every seam. She knocked on the side to see if the echo gave any hint as to the contents.

  Are you kidding me with this? Open it.

  She didn’t usually have these internal battles. Her chrono cheeped. Her fifteen minutes were up, but there would be a delay before the others invaded. She punched the access button of the hazmat box, stepping out of the way as the door cracked. The pin light turned red. But there was no telltale hiss of a sealed container.

  Huh. It wasn’t in perfect shape if it wasn’t airtight. She used her nose as well as the goggles to search for any inkling of toxics. Nothing.

  If it wasn’t airtight, the fumes would have escaped. She stepped forward and reached for the door.

  Which promptly burst open on its own.

  Su leapt back, hand going straight to her multitool. Thanks to some alterations last night, the torch could be used as a weapon with brief but impressive results.

  A naked human body tumbled out of the box. Ah, fuck, there weren’t supposed to be corpses on this level, either. Now she’d have to take time to report it to the goons and lose all of her loot in the process.

  But this was no corpse. The man let out a huge gasp, coughing as the atmosphere of Trash Planet hit his lungs.

  “What the vac?” Su demanded. “Who in the drakh are you and what are you doing in the garbage?”

  “Temp cryosleep,” the man croaked. He curled in on himself, shivering and wretched, so she couldn’t get a good look at him.

  Help him.

  Unthinkingly, Su darted forward to grab the man’s arms. He was chilly. Too chilly. Even through her gloves, she could sense the dangerous temperature of his skin. Ice had crystalized in his dark, shaggy hair. When someone popped out of temp cryo, it wasn’t too different than being exposed to a hailstorm here. They needed warming up—fast.

  “Hoo boy.” She started shucking her coveralls since she had on a decent outfit beneath them. She always layered up to go picking in case she had to ditch her mucky coveralls, but this was the first time she’d done it because she’d found a naked man. “Got to get you thawed.”

  “Th…thank you.” His voice was a rusty croak. “Where am I?”

  “Trash Planet.” If the planet had an official name, it had been forgotten long ago. “Do you know how you got here?”

  He huddled on the ground, arms wrapped around himself, but not too miserable to mouth off to the person who’d probably just saved his damn life. “I’m guessing a stellarship.”

  The patched grey coveralls crumpled around her ankles, and Su stomped a bit, getting them over her boots. The frigid air bit through her top and pants, but it wasn’t as bad as being naked and recovering from a bout of cryo. “Put this on.”

  In a show of surprising flexibility, he managed to wriggle into them without standing up. He rubbed his face, his hands and fingers clean and manicured—her first evidence of who this guy was. Some kind of softie, someone with DICs.

  “I’m Su,” she explained as gently as possible. A person with DICs who ended up stuffed in a hazmat box was bound to be suffering some trauma. Worse, people didn’t always come out of cryo the same as they’d gone in. She’d heard things about the cryoborn, and the modern versions of cryosleep used similar technology. “I’m going to get you out of here and find a doc to look you over.”

  “Oh, he doesn’t need a doctor,” said a voice Su recognized.

  She’d heard that voice…inside her head. It had lured her here, to this crate, and for some ridiculous reason, she’d thought it was her excitement and anxiety talking.

  Why in the bunk had she believed that?

  She whipped around, looking for the source. Had somebody planted a comm bug on her? Drugged her? How and who? What was going on?

  The man groaned as he rose to his feet. “He’s right. I don’t need a doc.”

  “Who’s he?” She only had one set of coveralls. If there was another naked guy, he’d have to stay naked until she could get him to the truck. Or perhaps she’d alert Pish about the stowaways. That would relieve her of any responsibility.

  Su angled her headlamp into the container, expecting to see another person. Two gleaming eyes about shin high stared at her from the back of the box. With a swing of the light, she realized the eyes belonged to an animal she’d only ever seen in holos.

  Felis domesticus. A cat. Which meant this man was freaky stinkin’ rich, to have a cat as a pet.

  But hold on a minute. Cats didn’t talk.

  “This one does,” the cat said. “And you can’t tell anybody, and we need your help.”

  “Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.” Su shoved off her hood and combed through her hair, all over her scalp, behind her ears, searching for the comm bug. The light of her headlamp danced all over the cargo bay as she inspected her head. “How are you doing this?”

  “I’m not,” the man in her coveralls said. They were too short for him, which meant he was middling height for a human male. He shaded his eyes from the direct glare of her lamp. “It’s Pumpkin.”

  “Pumpkin. Uh-huh.” Su backed toward her loaded dolly, no longer interested in the hazmat container—or in why a man and a cat had been locked in it.

  Okay, complete lie. She was dying for answers, but answers as to why a freaky stinkin’ rich guy and his cat were in the trash weren’t likely to be answers that brought her good fortune. “Look, you need to quit pretending a cat can talk. If I were you, I’d grab your cat and hide him before the others get here. You can follow me out. You’ve got awhile to get somewhere safe before you crash from the cryosleep.”

  “I am not his cat. He is my assistant,” the cat said, strolling out of the hazmat container as if it hadn’t a care in the world. She saw no evidence of cryo-ice on its ginger fur. “We have been betrayed in our quest to fill our coffers, and I was unable to prevent Wilbur’s capture.”

  Su looked from the cat to the man, who shrugged with the lazy elegance of the freaky stinkin’ rich. “Hi. I’m Wil Tango. Nice to meet you, Su. I guess we need some help.”

  His clean-shaven face indicated he hadn’t been in the container long or had had his facial hair removed. Rich people. So weird.

  “Why were you in that container?”

  “Bad people do bad things,” he told her. Him, not the fake cat voice. The cat’s ears twitched as it watched the two humans talk.

  She lowered her chin. “Which one are you?”

  “I can understand why you’d ask that,” Wil said. “But we can pay you if you help us. Get us somewhere safe and I’ll explain everything.”

  Well, that was different.

  “All right, I’m in.” Now, how to get out of here in one piece with an extra person who might be delusional in tow? And they’d absolutely have to hide the cat-who-could-not-talk. “I’ll say that…I hired you, and—”

  Her chrono cheeped a warning right before the hum of the mechanical lift reached her ears. It paused on their floor—and the perimeter beacon blared.

  “Why the vac are they coming here first?” What picker was skipping a chance at the top level this early in the day? If it was Garza…

  “Who’s coming?” Wil asked.

  Su’s pulse kicked up a notch. “Never mind who. We gotta go. Do everything I say and we may get out of this without getting our asses beat.” And without Wil getting arrested by Pish for stowing away on their ship.

  Did he deserve to get arrested? What was she doing, helping him?

  “Beaten? Did you say we’d be beaten?” the cat asked. The orange cat had matching orange eyes. Wa
s that normal? Was it sick? She knew two things about cats. She could get rich from selling one, and they could not talk. “That is barbaric. What has happened to humanity during my long sleep?”

  Su blew out an exasperated breath. “Quit fucking around with ventriloquy dook, or I won’t help you.”

  You will help us, whispered the voice in her head.

  Fine. She wanted to, anyway, in order to get answers. Curiosity was a picker’s bane.

  She scurried forward, waving for Wil to follow her. They scrambled through the trash to her cart. “Climb on the cart. Act like my employee. Hide the cat.”

  But the cat was nowhere to be seen. “Oh, bloody hells. Where’s your cat?”

  “I’m sure he’ll meet us wherever we end up,” Wil said, waving a hand. “I can’t control him.”

  “You’re going to leave a cat, a real cat, behind on a cargo ship where just anybody could nab him? He won’t even survive the ship rats. They’re venomous.”

  He glanced past her toward the elevator. “I promise I’ll explain once we have privacy.”

  The tramp of boots and the glow of a spotlight caught up with Su, Wil, and the cart. Damn and blast. They weren’t getting out of here without a fight.

  “What the piss, Abfall?” growled an angry voice. “You sent in a spotter?”

  Su whirled. Garza had come to the exact conclusion about Wil she’d assumed everyone would, which was both good and bad. “Garza. Like you wouldn’t have done the same. Oh, wait, you have.”

  He crossed his arms. “Not this time. The ship’s heavily guarded. Didn’t think you had it in you to cheat.”

  “I’m little and sneaky. What can I say?” And it was true. In the beginning when her factory had been struggling to make a profit, she’d served as a spotter herself—pickers who broke into a cargo ship early and scoped out the best loot. She was shocked she’d not run into any spotters today.

  Not counting Wil, but he was no spotter.

  “I almost hate to do this to you,” Garza said with a fake sigh. “But as union president, I guess I gotta.”

  “I’d hate for you to do something you hate,” she responded. If they saw the cat, she and Wil might end up worse than bloodied. A cat was worth more than three waste ships…ships and contents together. “So…don’t?”

  “What fun would that be?” The big man and his assistants spread out across the center aisle, blocking the dolly. “Vonner, get her out of the way so we can search the crates. Consider it your union dues.”

  A wiry man Su had tangled with many times sidled forward with a gap-toothed leer. She palmed her multitool. Dude was in for a surprise.

  “You gonna fight me? I like it when you fight me,” he gloated.

  If banter seemed like it would defuse a situation, Su bantered. Today wasn’t that day. She whipped out the MUT and dialed the torch to high.

  Blue-white flame blazed out of the small device, splattering on Vonner’s coveralls. He yelped and stumbled back. It didn’t hurt him, though he smacked resentfully at the smoking material. Coveralls contained many layers of protection—protection she didn’t currently have.

  “I just want to leave, Garza,” she said. So far he hadn’t noticed she wasn’t wearing coveralls and Wil was. For a picker, Garza was not the most detail-oriented person. “I didn’t load anything you want. Just barter items, wires and components, some smaller specialty containers—no paper, no books, no wood.”

  “What did you use to make that flame?” Garza combed his fingers through his beard, which meant he was thinking—thinking hard. “I saw you get searched.”

  “She tried to fry me,” Vonner protested. “That ain’t code.”

  It was true that pickers didn’t usually kill each other. And Su didn’t have to compete for goods as hard as the others. Nobody on this side of Trash Planet even wanted to refurb containers. It was why she’d picked boxes to specialize in after parting ways from her previous occupation. No great riches, but no rivalries.

  Well, no direct rivalries. Garza and bullies like him would take another picker out just for shits and grins. Didn’t seem like an A+ quality in a union president, but people didn’t always vote in their own best interests.

  “How about I keep your loot, your cart, and your little torch, and you and your pretty manservant can leave?” Garza offered.

  “Just because I got the head start?” Fifteen minutes wasn’t much, all things considered. Searching a ship for recyclable items usually took all day, especially if some jackhole like Garza cleaned you out and you had to start over.

  Vac take it. A rich softie was not the jackpot she’d been hoping for. And where was that fucking cat?

  “I’ll let you go easy since you boxed all these materials for me,” Garza said with a sneer that waggled his giant beard. “And such nice containers. The collapsible kind. I’d have to pay good DICs for these at the market.”

  “Keep the crates and let me take my cart.” Broken wheel and all, she didn’t want to have to buy another mech-dolly. She’d been hoping for a windfall today. Instead she was taking the fall—for whatever Wil had done to get stuck in the trash.

  Garza shook his head. “Nah. I want the whole bingbong. Least you can do after cheating. Probably cheated last night, too.”

  “Su abided by the code as honorably as I’m sure you do,” her rich softie interjected in a smooth voice. “Is there any way you could be convinced to step aside so we can return to her vehicle?”

  “Step aside?” Garza hooted. Several of his underlings barked out laughs. One of them, a big lug of a woman, cracked her knuckles for the beating that was probably about to commence. “After what she just did? Why in tarnation would I do that?”

  “Shut up,” Su hissed at Wil. Her torch was only good for a few blasts, and Garza had been ticked at her since she’d hired his favorite book restorer to manage her off-planet sales. The woman had a way with customers that was being wasted in a back room, and Garza didn’t properly appreciate her.

  Instead, Wil said in a louder voice, “If you could be persuaded to step aside, that would be so helpful.”

  “How about I…” Garza puckered his brow and shoved his goggles over his eyes, looking around suspiciously. “What did you say?”

  “Let us be on our way. This is not the loot you’re looking for.” Wil came to stand behind Su close enough that she could feel the heat of his body. Did he think she needed protection or was he seeking protection? At least he’d warmed up. Hoorah for tensil-fabric coveralls. “If you please.”

  To Su’s utter astonishment, Garza shrugged. “Fine. We have a lot of sorting to do, and I don’t care about your stupid junk.” Vonner glared, but Garza motioned for his team to let Su’s dolly pass.

  Su wasn’t going to question her good fortune. The good fortune she’d recently assumed this man and this cat, wherever the cat was, had destroyed. She propelled the dolly forward as fast as it would go, not making eye contact, just hustling ahead and jabbing the button for the lift to wait her turn.

  Wil hung off the back of the cart, which was easier on his bare feet, as long as she could get him somewhere warm soon. Preferably before he crashed. Temp cryo was not easy on a human body. With the first round pickers flooding the ship, the lift would take awhile, so she jerked her chin at her companion. “Stay there.”

  She darted into the nearest heap and grabbed whatever fabric she could lay hands on. Looked and smelled like a sex house blanket, but it would do. She tossed it at him.

  He caught it deftly and gave her a puzzled look. “What’s this for?”

  “Wrap your feet before you lose some toes,” she said. “And hide the fact you’ve got no shoes.”

  “Smart,” he said.

  Yeah, she was. Or was she dumb as a tardipede for helping this stranger? She had a million questions. What had he done to get stuffed in that container? How had he not suffocated? What about the cat? Life support was deactivated in the bays to save money, and…

  But the ship rats hadn�
��t been dead. The life support had been left on.

  Why?

  A million and one questions. Wil stood at ease on the edge of the cart, one hand clasping a corner pole, as if he did this all day, every day. She frowned at him. Something about his posture reminded her of…

  Nah, she couldn’t pull it up. Something. Something from long ago, before the accident.

  The lift passed them any number of times, transporting pickers to the upper floor. When someone finally chose this floor, she waited for the group to pass before navigating her bulky cart into the elevator with the people who were left.

  “Going up?” a woman asked.

  “Nah, I’m done. Hey, Estelle. First round, huh? Nice.” Su pounded fists with the tall, older woman. “All the best jewels, friend.”

  “Who’s the rookie?” Estelle eyed Wil up and down. Su supposed he was a handsome man, if you liked clean-shaven, dark-haired, well proportioned fellows. Which she did, but Estelle was more on the lady side of the fence. “Didn’t know you took on spotters. You shoulda picked a less conspicuous one.”

  “Wil T… Wil Tee.” Wil’s torso began to bend, as if he were going to bow like the richie riches did when greeting someone. Instead he reached out with a fist. Estelle raised an eyebrow but she obliged him with a bump, her protective glove contrasting with his pampered, clean skin. “I’m new to this.”

  “Clearly. Well, happy recycling.” She and her sons exited on the top floor, and finally, finally, the lift groaned its way to the bottom.

  In five minutes, barring traffic jams and fights, they’d escape the cargo ship. Garza’s reasons for letting them go were unknown, but right now it didn’t matter. Wil Tango, aka Wil Tee, was hiding so many valuable secrets that he was a picker’s dream, and she was just the woman to find them.

  Chapter 2

  If it weren’t for that damn cat, Wil wouldn’t be here, barefoot, miserable, riding a picker’s cart through a cargo ship on Trash Planet.

  If it weren’t for that damn cat, Wil would be dead three times over.