by Kit Walker
"Well, if you really want me to 'share my troubles,' it's going to take a while," Asha says.
Ruza seems to consider this for a moment. "We could go back to my place."
"Yes," Asha says automatically. "Wait, give me a second."
On the one hand, Asha has somewhere to be in the morning. And she's a little drunk. On the other hand, she's usually pretty good at judging her own impairment level, and she's nowhere near 'bad decision' drunk. And Ruza is really hot and funny and could probably bench-press, like, three of Asha.
"Yeah, yes," Asha says. "Let's do that. I just need to comm my ship so they know where I am."
"What about your friends?" Ruza says. "Do you need to call them? What are they up to?"
"Kadar and Vaz? Knowing those two, they're either having the best or the worst night of their lives."
•
"This is either the best or the worst night of my life."
They got off the train a few steps before the end of the line, in the faintly sketchy refinery district. The only place open this time of night is a small corner store where the cashier is enclosed in a transparent, bulletproof box.
Vaz digs around in the freezer until he locates a bag of frozen nutrient pellets, which he presses against his eye. It's already starting to swell.
"Sorry," the cashier says, as Vaz taps his credit chit against the reader. "We're supposed to carry cold compress packs, but they never get restocked."
"It's fine," Vaz says. "Do you know how to get to the shuttle station from here?"
"That's all the way across town."
Vaz points at Kadar. "His fault."
"I saved your life!" Kadar protests, mildly offended.
"The green line should take you most of the way there," says the cashier. "After that, I'm not sure."
"Thanks," Vaz replies, and heads back out onto the street.
He can hear Kadar walking behind him, oddly silent.
"Thank you, by the way," Vaz says, glancing over his shoulder.
Kadar looks confused. "Sorry, what?"
"For saving my life," Vaz says. "And for the thing on the train. I appreciate what you were trying to do."
"So you're not mad about getting punched in the face?"
"I didn't say that."
"Fair enough." Kadar speeds up a little to walk beside Vaz. "I take it we're headed back to the ship?"
"Seems like the safest bet right now." Vaz shifts the ice pack over his eye. Any further exposure to Kadar's particularly annoying brand of chivalry might literally kill him.
As they approach the intersection, a hovercar descends to street level and lands directly in front of them. A tall, broad dhovar in an expensive-looking suit steps out.
"Oh, hell," Kadar says. "Hi, Sev."
"Kadar," replies the dhovar. "Lady Devica would like a word with you."
"Can this wait until tomorrow?" Kadar says. "I have an appointment."
Sev cracks his knuckles and steps forward.
"Okay! Okay." Kadar's gaze flits briefly to a couple standing on the opposite corner, watching them. His posture straightens, and his calm, charming facade slides back into place. "I'll go with you. On one condition." He grabs Vaz's arm. "He needs to come with us."
"What?" Vaz yelps.
"He's my new partner," Kadar says. "Handles all the finances. If Kiti wants her money, Vaz is the guy to talk to."
"I take it back," Vaz tells Kadar. "I hate you."
"Whatever," Sev says, unamused. "Both of you, get in the car. Now."
As they duck into the back seat, Kadar whispers, "Just trust me."
•
"We're on a starship," Laela says, for the sixth time tonight. "It is, by definition, a sealed environment. There's only so many places the fucking thing could've gone."
"I am an awful friend," Ysal laments, also for the sixth time tonight.
"No, you're not," Laela says. "We're just dealing with a tiny incarnation of pure evil."
Laela opens the door to the engine room. They've searched the ship top to bottom, and there's been no sign of Asha's horrible little pet. It's too small for the motion trackers to pick up, so they've been relying on Ysal's sense of smell.
The engine room is almost as large as the cargo bay, with the huge spherical shape of the ship's FTL drive taking up the most space along the far wall. The rest of the room is crowded with walkways and monitoring equipment, as well as every other piece of technology that's been retrofitted onto the ship and wouldn't fit anywhere else.
It is, admittedly, a bit of a disaster, but Laela's proud of it all the same.
"Well?" Laela says.
Ysal lifts xir head and sniffs. "The scent is stronger. She's either been here recently, or—"
A small white shape scurries across the floor. Laela screams and hops up onto the carbon dioxide scrubber.
Rat makes a break for the exit. Ysal slaps the control panel on the wall, and the door slams shut. Rat stops in her tracks, but when Ysal reaches for her, she darts away and crawls into a vent.
Ysal blinks, then turns to look at Laela, still perched on the scrubber.
"She is no threat to you," Ysal says.
"You don't know that," Laela snaps. "What if I'm allergic to it? What if it bites me and I have a reaction?"
"Ah. Valid." Ysal bends down and peers into the vent. "Perhaps we need to rethink our strategy."
•
There aren't many personal vehicles driving around this time of night, just automated delivery trucks. Which means signaling for help is out of the question. Vaz peers out the window, briefly contemplating escape that way, and reconsiders when he sees how far away the ground is.
Kadar also seems to be considering escape routes, if the way he keeps twisting around in his seat is any indication.
"Who's Lady Devica?" Vaz asks him. "Please tell me you didn't steal from another hirovan noble."
"No and no," Kadar replies. Whatever he can see out the back window appears to satisfy him; he settles down in his seat. "Kiti Devica's no 'lady,' she just calls herself that. And I didn't steal from her. I borrowed some money."
"What for?"
"The Onorine job," Kadar says, as if it should be obvious. "Do you know how much it costs to get some random-ass cepida onto the guest list of a Saksata wedding? We were going to pay her a share of the take, but there was no take, and here we are."
"My sympathy is limited," Vaz says. "So now what?"
"Now, we grovel and hope Kiti doesn't decide to make an example out of us," Kadar says, loudly enough for the driver to hear. More quietly he adds, "Don't worry about it," ensuring that Vaz spends the rest of the drive worrying about it.
•
The car stops somewhere in the financial district, in front of an office tower that's still under construction. Sev opens the door and gestures for Kadar and Vaz to get out.
Vaz looks up at the building. "We're going to die here, aren't we?"
"No!" Kadar says. "But also maybe yes."
Kiti Devica is waiting for them in the half-constructed lobby, flanked by two marcor guards. She's small, even by hirovan standards, and by those same standards could almost be considered svelte. Her person is curiously devoid of jewelry, and her clothes are similarly austere.
"Kadar," she says. "You've been avoiding me."
"You can probably guess why," Kadar replies.
"What happened? I heard a rumor that Covax was killed."
Kadar's playful facade drops away. "The job went wrong," he says. "I almost got caught. Covax didn't make it out. There's no money, Kiti."
"Oh, Kadar." Devica ruffles her feathers and smooths them out again. "I'd love to let this go, dear. But this was a high-profile job. People are talking. And I have a reputation to worry about."
"I was worried you'd say that," Kadar says. "Which is why—" he points at Vaz, "—he's here."
"I don't have any money, either," Vaz says.
"You are the worst partner in crime." Kadar turns back to Devi
ca. "Luckily, I don't actually need him to do anything. Because you will not believe who's been following him all night."
Outside, Sev shouts a warning.
At least half a dozen armed individuals burst into the lobby, all of them marked with purple. Devica's guards draw their guns. The intruders look at Vaz, then at the guards, and pick the more immediate of the two problems.
Kadar's hand closes around Vaz's wrist. They duck down a side corridor and down the longest staircase in the universe until they reach a large, surprisingly clean and well-lit tunnel.
"Where are we?" Vaz gasps.
"Pedway," Kadar replies, catching his breath. "There are tunnels like this between all the major buildings in the district. Bankers don't like going outside." The sound of gunfire filters down the staircase. "We should keep going. I'm pretty sure the Hand's going to win, and we need to be gone by the time they do."
Vaz looks at the staircase, then at Kadar. His eyes narrow. "You used me as bait."
"Maybe a little," Kadar admits. "It worked, didn't it?"
Vaz punches him in the face.
Kadar barks out a string of expletives and doubles over, clutching his nose.
A sick feeling settles in Vaz's stomach as he realizes what he's just done. "Oh god," he breathes. "Oh god, I'm so sorry, I—"
But Kadar starts laughing. "That was amazing," he says. "God, who knew you had it in you?"
Vaz isn't quite sure how to respond to that.
Kadar straightens, one hand still covering his nose. Blood drips onto his lips. "That was a hell of a punch. I think my nose might be broken." He sniffles, and winces. "Yeah, it's definitely broken. Can we go to the hospital?"
•
A significant chunk of Laela's vegetable wrap has been sitting on the floor, in plain sight, for almost an hour now.
"You know," Laela says, "I'm starting to take this personally."
One of the walkways runs directly over the spot where the bait's been laid, and that's where Laela and Ysal have been waiting. Laela swallows a few spoonfuls of black bark soup and passes the bowl to Ysal, who promptly inhales the remainder. This is the routine whenever they eat together: Laela grazes on little bit of everything, and Ysal indiscriminately devours whatever she doesn't finish.
"Perhaps Rat isn't hungry," Ysal muses, before polishing off a half-eaten wrap in a single bite.
"It hasn't been fed all day."
"Then perhaps she is aware that this is a trap."
"How? Its brain must be microscopic."
"In my experience," Ysal says, "small mammals can be surprisingly inventive."
"Smartass," Laela grumbles. "It can't stay in there forever."
The bait remains on the floor, untouched.
Laela picks at a salad that seems to be mostly twigs. "I've missed this."
Ysal looks down at the floor, then at Laela, and blinks, slowly. "Pardon?"
"Well, not this." Laela gives up on the salad — the average marcor's digestive system is far more robust than hers — and passes it to Ysal, who dumps the whole thing down xir gullet. "This ship's too fucking crowded now. It was supposed to be just us. Remember?"
"I remember," Ysal replies quietly. "I apologize for—"
"No, no, no," Laela blurts out. "I don't blame you. Things just ... happened." She tries to say something else, something reassuring, but draws a blank.
A tiny white muzzle pokes out of the vent. Laela stifles a scream, slaps at Ysal's shoulder to get xir attention, and points.
Ysal coils up at the edge of the walkway, like a predator preparing to strike. Xir eyes fixate on the spot where the bait's been laid.
Rat scurries out into the open, following the scent of food. Ysal tenses, leaps—
—and misses, crashing to the floor a few feet away.
Rat startles and veers off course, headed back into cover, but Ysal's arm snakes out, xir hand gently closing around the small, furry body.
Laela tips to the side and collapses onto the walkway, convulsing with silent laughter. She manages to compose herself long enough to say, "Everything okay down there?"
Ysal heaves out an enormous sigh. "If I were fifty years younger, that would have worked."
•
"I am so sorry," Vaz repeats, yet again.
It's a slow night in this particular hospital's emergency ward. The doctor — a tiny dieni who got a little too much satisfaction out of painfully straightening Kadar's nose — adheres a splint into place and says, "Check out at the desk." She stands and strides across the ward to tend to another patient.
"Ease up on the melodrama," Kadar says, gently prodding at the splint. "You're not the first person to punch me in the face. It happens."
"You don't understand," Vaz insists. "I'm not — I don't do things like this. Ever. It's—" he lets out a frustrated breath. "I can't go around proving them right."
"Seriously?" Kadar somehow manages to roll his eyes despite the broken face. "Look, you didn't punch me because you're a dhovar. You punched me because I'm an asshole. Maybe you should stop caring so much what other people think."
Vaz snorts. "Easy for you to say."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You can afford not to care what anyone thinks," Vaz says. "You're a dieni, and you go around pretending to be a Sentinel. Everyone who meets you, respects you. And you abuse that."
"I use it," Kadar corrects. "Vaz, everybody who looks at you is going to assume they know everything about you. Maybe you should stop fighting it and start turning it to your advantage."
"You don't get it!" Vaz snaps. "That's not who I am! That's not who I want to be! You have no idea what I go through every day of my life, so keep your advice to yourself!"
Vaz closes his eyes and rubs his hands over his face. He's too tired for this.
"Wow." Kadar coughs awkwardly. "Sorry. Never mind. I was just — sorry."
Vaz checks the time on his comm. "We need to be at Trixis' office in a few hours," he says, weary. "Let's get out of here and find Asha."
•
"And then we called you."
Asha resists the urge to lie down on the floor.
Ruza leans out of the open bathroom door, with what looks like some kind of sonic toothbrush hanging out of her mouth. "This kind of thing happens often to you guys?"
"Less than you'd think," Asha says. "More than you'd hope."
"Neat." Ruza disappears back into the bathroom.
"I, uh, think I might need a ride off-world," Kadar says. "Kiti's still after me."
"If she's still alive," Vaz says.
"She is," Kadar replies. "Trust me, she's still out there. And the Hand probably isn't too pleased either."
"You promised we'd never see you again," Asha reminds him.
"Yeah." Kadar scratches his splinted nose. "I'm bad at keeping promises."
"He's not completely useless," Vaz says. "He's almost as good at getting out of trouble as he is at getting into it."
Kadar turns to Vaz and grins. "Are you vouching for me? Has my roguish charm finally won you over?"
"I've changed my mind," Vaz says. "Leave him here to die."
"Talk to Laela. I can't promise anything." Asha rubs the back of her neck and glances out the window. "What time is it?"
"Almost 0900," Kadar says. "We ... probably should've left for Trixis' office half an hour ago."
Ruza emerges from the bathroom, tugging a shirt on. "I don't work until this evening," she says. "I can give you a ride."
•
Trixis' office is on the thirtieth floor of a titanic glass tower that truly does justice to the term 'skyscraper.'
Ruza peers up at it through her car's windshield. "This looks like the kind of place where they dismember you in the alley if you get fingerprints on the glass." After a moment, she adds, "I think I'll wait down here."
Kadar climbs out of the car and says, "This shouldn't take long."
Ruza shrugs. "If you're not back in an hour, I'll assume you're dead.
"
Asha quickly learns that if one walks into a building full of well-dressed professionals while one is a little hungover and wearing yesterday's clothes, one can usually get away with it if the two guys one is with look even worse.
The door with Trixis' name on it opens into a white, minimalist waiting room with stylish, uncomfortable-looking chairs and one abstract painting on the wall. Another door at the opposite end of the room opens, and Trixis rolls through. "Kadar. Asha. Come in." She turns to face Vaz. "You can wait out here."
"Uh huh," Vaz says, unsurprised.
Asha and Kadar step into Trixis' office, and the door slides shut behind them. The muffled sensation that descends over the room suggests high-quality soundproofing. The view from Trixis' window must have been spectacular, before the newer, taller building went up next door.
Trixis' eyes swivel toward Kadar. "Kiti Devica is still inquiring after you. With significantly more violent language than before, I might add."
"I had a long night," Kadar mutters.
"I see." Trixis turns to Asha. "I was able to compile some information about the quarantine." A tentacle snakes out of the tank, picks up a tablet off of Trixis' desk, and hands it to Asha. "These files cannot leave this room. Read quickly."
The information is fragmented, made up of various half-decrypted incident reports and personal logs. Taken together, it all paints a vague picture:
A Sentinel ship encountered garden world F766-3. Oxygen-nitrogen atmosphere. Evidence of planetary civilization, but no sentient life forms detected. A shuttle was sent to the surface to investigate, and when it came back ...
Well, that's when everything gets even more fragmented and confusing. Whatever happened, it wasn't good.
The files have been arranged chronologically, oldest to newest. At the bottom of the list is the final report from the Sentinel commander.
All evidence indicates that F766-3 is overrun. If there are survivors to be evacuated, we have been unable to locate them.
The contamination aboard our own ship has been successfully cleansed, but not without catastrophic loss of personnel and equipment. Due to the lifeform's virulent nature, and our difficulty detecting its presence, I officially recommend that system F766 — and a buffer zone of all directly adjacent systems — be quarantined indefinitely.