by Alma Boykin
«And this being a personal matter doesn’t figure in at all, does it?» Zabet asked, blue eyes narrow.
“Yes, it does, Boss: I have to finish what I started. If you want out, then shoo.” The mammal flopped into the chair, sprawling as if she were perfectly comfortable in the spine-twisting pose. “He’s already set the trap. I just need to get him to trigger it,” and she stared into the distance, mind spinning possible ideas and alternatives.
The True-dragon stalked over until her muzzle was centimeters from her pet’s nose. «You are not just a mercenary any more, Commander Rada Lord Ni Drako,» she hissed. «If you get caught and your connection with the Empire is revealed, your damned, irrational, blindingly stupid monofocus could start a fucking interstellar war. How are you going to justify that to your Bookkeeper, pray tell?» Zabet locked her gaze on Rada’s remaining eye. «Pass what you know on to the authorities or to another tarqi and let them do what needs to be done.»
Rada’s ears flattened and her claws extended. “And just who are the ‘authorities’ pray tell? And what tarqi will listen to me?” Her face twisted with contempt and she hissed back, “I’m the half-breed bastard with the ever-increasing price on her head, remember?”
«Ah fewmets,» and Zabet backed a pace.
“And who will connect a Tobashto with the Empire? A mammal working for the Azdhagi in this time is so far beyond belief that no one would give credence to the tale even if the head of the Karoo Cartel told the story.” It was a good point and Zabet acknowledged the truth of it even as she shook her head in frustration at losing that weapon in her argument arsenal. After several minutes of silence Rada levered herself out of the chair and fixed the reptile a beer. “Here, you need this.”
«I do. And you’re a fool and I’m a bigger fool for letting you do this.» Zabet’s ears twirled as she drank the creamy porter. After a while she handed Rada the empty glass for a refill. When it arrived, the True-dragon cocked her head to the side and studied her business partner closely. «Tell me something, Pet. When did you develop a sense of moral responsibility?»
It was a serious question and the mammal thought about it as she changed into something more suggestive for her evening appointment. “I think you can blame Col. Adamski and Shi-dan. I admired Ingwe’s code of honor and his determination to stay on the side of order and fairness.” Rada brushed out her tail fur and changed ribbons as she continued, “Shi-dan took care of his people, even the ones he didn’t especially like, and he accepted responsibility for his actions and decisions. I have a feeling some of that wore off.” The woman thrashed her tail up and down, making certain that the ribbon and fancy cords stayed in place.
«In other words you are teachable. I’ll keep trying then,» Zabet sighed. «And why the blue cord with the rank ribbon?»
The mammal slung her belt around her hips, moving the buckle so that the leather rode much lower than usual. “Think about it, Boss.” She slipped her credit ring onto her finger, double-checked the gold decorations clipped to her ears, and sauntered out, hips swaying in a most un-Rada-like way.
Zabet put the pieces together and started giggling, then snickering, and finally laughed so hard that she rolled on the floor. First Claw Rrahsh Foe-gutter was in heat! Thus the cord saying, “I’m quite ready and very willing, if you meet my standards,” plus the blouse that left almost nothing to the imagination. Unless someone else knew Tobashto mating traditions, Rada’s new decoration wouldn’t draw attention, but it added another layer to her persona. And it gave Zabet something new to tease her pet about.
Rrahsh Foe-gutter presented her I.D. and strolled into the reception ears up and alert for anything of interest. Only a double-handful of others had arrived, including Lothar from Filtak Genetics, who stopped speaking with a reptilian someone long enough to salute the Tobashto before returning to his sales pitch. Rrahsh found a seat that provided space for her tail and settled down after helping herself to a glass of flavored water and some meat-based nibble-nuggets from the bar. The barkeep’s menu listed keritang on tap but Rrahsh needed a clear head, something not generally associated with drinking unfiltered keritang. Not long after she settled into place, Gentlesir President mer Olbaak arrived with his Trader shadow. Lothar the Letch did his best to fade into the faux-stone acoustic paneling as the lights dimmed and the presentation began.
After the usual corporate patter, the presentation went into topics that raised Rada’s fur. Rrahsh Foe-gutter, on the other forefoot, felt a tad bored with much of the talk of “in-time deliveries,” “customized biologics of varying sentience and sapience,” and “pre-need pharmaceuticals tailored to species and climate.” The Tobashto preferred nanotech to bio-weapons and those of First Claw rank dealt with such matters only as they encountered them in combat or training, not on the purchasing or deployment decision end. Rrahsh let her mind wander, or so her relaxed posture and swinging tail suggested. Rada Ni Drako worked very hard to keep her body bored-looking as her mind flashed through all the implications of the sales presentation.
The openness of the trans-temporal dealings bothered Rada the most, and she noticed that Master da Peerlan looked equally irritated. Beneath his outward calm Rada saw growing frustration bordering on anger in his body language, as if Kishon and Nori had overstepped the limits of their contracts. Or was he angry about something else altogether? Remember the null hypothesis Rada reminded herself. He could have lost a different sale and just learned about it before the reception started.
The salesbeing making the presentation then brought up a projection showing Mintao. “And this is projected to be one of our most successful projects to date. After careful research, Kishon Biologics has developed an agent targeted specifically at consumers of luxury comestibles,” and a picture appeared of something reddish and orange glopped into a metal bowl. “It can be tailored for effect and promises a new, non-lethal method of enforcing embargos and strikes. This product line is not limited to mammalians, and Kishon’s product development team is already expanding to similar goods lines for insectoid species. Before you ask,” the vaguely rodent-like mammal added, “we are making allowances for cultural differences in consumption patterns.”
After the main presentation, the lights came up for the question and answer session. Rada snorted a little at all the people who wanted the mammal to repeat something it had previously explained, but she listened carefully to a Nidslee when the insectoid inquired, “Are counter-agents also available for the new comestible line?”
When the spokes-creature hesitated, Lyonel mer Olbaak stood up and answered. “Yes. Kishon always develops safe, effective, short and long-term protective measures. Product safety is, as you well know, Kishon’s foremost priority.”
“Thank you, Gentlebeing,” the Nidslee replied. That proved to be the final question and the assorted potential customers began milling about, some making a second visit to the free bar and others discussing the sales pitch and information. Rrahsh Foe-gutter set her empty glass on a convenient flat surface and began wending a path between the others, looking for the door. She had almost reached the exit when Lothar appeared, not quite blocking her departure. “Ah, good evening honored First Claw.”
“Good evening, Gentlesir.” If he wanted any more response, he was not going to get it.
“Honored First Claw, Mister Lyonel mer Olbaak wishes a moment of your time,” the human stated formally, sweeping his hand toward Lyonel and Master da Peerlan in a summoning gesture.
“Indeed.” The First Claw watched Lothar grow increasingly nervous as she failed to respond to the invitation. After what must have seemed like hours to the human she pivoted and strode toward his employer, leaving him to catch up.
“Honored First Claw,” Lyonel smiled, his eyes running up and down the felinoid before settling on her face. “I’m glad you were able to attend the reception.”
“It was most educational,” came the neutral reply. “Thank you for inviting me.” Rrahsh flicked her tail in a way that raised par
t of her skirt, revealing a well-shaped calf over short brown boots.
Lyonel brushed back part of his knee-length embroidered vest, mirroring her. “I’m glad you found it so. I am unfamiliar with Tobashto customs, so forgive if my offer is mistimed, but would you care to share an evening meal with me?”
Rrahsh considered the offer, her tail waving gently. “Yes, I believe that I will do so.” Jiwal da Peerlan’s mouth turned down at the corners at the soldier’s words, all but screaming his displeasure with the turn of events, but he remained silent. Lyonel turned and said something very quietly, bringing a rapid but equally quiet reply from the Trademaster.
The human’s hand flashed in a cutting gesture and he spun on his heel, vest swirling to reveal the stunning white lining. “Honored First Claw, if you care to come with me?” Rrahsh made a graceful forefoot gesture and followed, flicking her tail tip at the Trader as she passed. He did not follow.
At Lyonel’s invitation, Rrahsh preceded him into one of the resort’s many dining spaces. This one featured robotic table servers, granting an additional measure of privacy and discretion for those wanting or needing such an environment. The host-mammal led them to a private dining space, then turned on a discrete mute screen as it left.
Lyonel obviously knew the dining location well. He took a seat under a small light, showing off his dark iridescent skin finish and perfect physique without obviously posing. His seat also appeared just a bit higher than that of his guest, giving him a good view of her breasts and face as well as making him seem larger and intimidating. A menu projection appeared on the table in front of the pair and Rrahsh leaned forward slightly so that she could find the control to translate it to Trader or Tobashto, tapping the language selection touch-square lightly before straightening back up. The seat shifted with her, discreetly conforming to her back and rump. However, it compressed her tail slightly and she reached back, pushing the offending cushion down until it “locked” into a trough. “Is there a problem?” her companion asked, appearing concerned.
“No more than usual, Gentlesir. The cushioning and my tail disagreed and the disagreement has been solved.” They ordered drinks, then supper. “Heighlei stew with protein chips,” Rrahsh specified.
“Hmm. Roast hollowtail with the caviar and scalloped blueroot. Have you had heighlei before, Rrahsh?”
She swirled her left forefoot in negation, lying as she said, “No, but it seems to be high protein.”
He smiled broadly. “It is. On some worlds heighlei is also reputed to be an aphrodisiac.”
The female feigned surprise. “How odd. On Karmali only plants are reputed to enhance the mating instinct. Plants and,” she paused before raising her eyebrow, “Certain choice parts of male prey.” She took a sip of her ginger-water, looking at Lyonel over the top of the glass and twitching her ears. “But such things are unproven, only stories told around hunting fires and in the mating chamber.” Was she moving things too fast?
Apparently not—a new light glinted in his green eyes and Lyonel smiled. “Many species have such tales, which suggests that there is truth to them.”
“Truth or only desire for truth. It is said that the mind is the strongest force for desire,” she riposted.
“Quite true. Instinct is not everything in life, at least not among advanced species.” He shifted the topic. “What do you think of the recent advances in weapons bio-design?”
The verbal dance continued for the next hour as Rrahsh and Lyonel discussed military topics and alien cultures, and occasionally more personal topics. Rrahsh seemed willing to be seduced and Lyonel had no doubts that he would succeed, although perhaps not this evening. After the table servo had removed their empty plates, Lyonel ordered coffee with liqueur. “Would you like something, Rrahsh, perhaps catnip tea?”
The felinoid recoiled, her ears flattening and her hands making a warding off gesture. “Absolutely not. Nepeta is a banned drug among Tobashto; it inflames that best left quiet. Ginger tea will suffice, thank you.” She glanced down as if calming herself and caught a flash of satisfaction on her host’s face.
“Your pardon. I was aware that the Feltari banned catnip but was not aware that others also prohibited the herb,” he soothed. They finished their drinks in companionable silence, although Lyonel did check his electronic message pad twice, replying once to something apparently urgent. “Rrahsh, will you be attending the closing demonstrations?”
She made another negation gesture, flashing a bit more cleavage in the process. “No. I have gathered that for which I was sent. ’Krrsskalee Sebentoe’s board expects my report soon, so I shall depart the trail tomorrow night. But perhaps I may return your hospitality tomorrow? Or even tonight,” she added guessing the next step in the dance.
“I accept your generous offer, Honored First Claw, and look forward to sharing hospitality tomorrow. I am afraid that I must leave to attend to business,” and he stood, taking a very long look at her chest as he did. “Please, let’s meet at my chambers tomorrow at the hour before local noon,” and he handed her a single-use data card.
“Certainly, Gentlesir, and I thank you for the good company this evening,” she brushed his hand and he gripped her shoulder as he passed, squeezing hard enough to leave a mark in her fur and skin. Rrahsh paid for her meal, then departed. She noticed Lyonel in the lobby, talking with someone, and she waved her tail toward him when he glanced toward her, sending the ribbons fluttering. If he’d done any homework, he’d know what they meant.
Rada let herself into her room, shut the door and locked it, then leaned against the brushed metal panel and shook, fighting to keep her gorge down. The raw lust and the desires she’d felt from him left her sick and she struggled to keep another series of flashbacks from taking her away. Lyonel wanted Rrahsh as a trophy and a toy, forced to submit to his will, her pain adding to his pleasure. It would be the crowning moment of his day, almost as good as when he “No!” Rada blocked the rest of the thought, fighting to separate herself from her and Lyonel’s emotional memories.
Zabet started to approach her but Rada waved her hands. “No Boss, no. Don’t touch me, don’t talk to me, just, no.” The mammal stripped out of her clothes, pulled on her sleeping shirt and trousers, and curled up into a ball in the soft, deep chair, eyes closed as she fought to keep her sanity. Be calm, be steady, be detached, she repeated over and over, invoking her earliest training. Slowly her heart stopped racing, slowly her muscles quit trembling as she built a wall between Lyonel and the still-wounded part of her mind. The adrenaline faded from her body and Rada emerged from her near-trance to find Zabet watching her closely. “Water?”
The reptile handed her a glass and Rada drained it, then unfolded from her ball. “We leave tomorrow afternoon, Boss. I’m meeting with the creature tomorrow at his quarters and it will finish one way or another.”
«Yes, because you will go mad if you keep this up. Rada, Pet, you need help.»
“I have help, or will after a quick visit to talk to someone tomorrow morning. You go on to the port and I’ll meet you there. Oh, and I’d like to borrow that crystal you got.”
Zabet shook her head, sending her whiskers whipping back and forth around her narrow muzzle. «Real help, Rada: a mind healer. Something happened on Earth, didn’t it? Something that you’re still fighting.»
“Yes, Boss it did, but not while I was with Yori,” she assured the reptile. It was not quite a lie and Zabet’s eyes narrowed, suspicion plain in her busy tail tip and half-flat ears. Zabet did not push the matter and Rada fell asleep in the chair, once more curled up, her back to the world.
Rada skipped breakfast the next morning. She used the time to pack and to groom her entire hair-coat. She also removed as much loose fur from her clothing as she could, suddenly glad that she no longer had hair long enough to grip and hold. Rada wore the same outfit as on her arrival, minus the half-gloves. She needed full contact with Lyonel mer Olbaak to gain what she needed, even with a boost from Zabet’s crystal. Again, t
he fancy ribbons on her tail and the low belt, and Rada decided to keep the earrings from the night before.
As soon as the exhibition halls opened, Rada sailed to the armor booth radiating frustration and carrying one of the chest pieces. Husu, the blue-green marsupial who had overseen the fittings, began wringing his forefeet as she bore down on him. Krsst intercepted her before the felinoid could start complaining. “Allow this one to be of assistance, gentlebeing,” and he led her aside.
She made a show of pointing to something inside the chest piece, as if the lining had come loose. “Lyonel is behind the threat to Sarpas IV,” she hissed in Trader, barely loud enough for the translator box to receive.
“And he has the antidote for whatever will happen. Rowfow felt more details, feels storm centering on mer Olbaak. Can you stop him?” The Sarpasig inspected the armor carefully, then reached for a tool and began “adjusting” something as Rada watched.
“Affirmative. I need transportation back to the spaceport, one half hour after local noon, but I will get what mer Olbaak has,” she promised. “And that will fix it?”
“Yes, gentlebeing. This one has added securing stitches and smoothed out a bubble. No more fur rub,” and Krsst handed the armor back to the mammal.
“Thank you.” She nodded to Husu, careful not to show her fangs or claws, and walked much more calmly back through the display floor and sales areas to her quarters. Once there she packed her armor into the same bag as her clothes. Zabet, grumbling fiercely, had taken the new pistol and Rada’s computer with her, leaving Rada only her travel bag and her weapons belt.
A few minutes before the appointed time, Rrahsh Foe-gutter walked through the lobby to a very select part of the resort’s main building. As she turned down the corridor indicated on mer Olbaak’s data card, she met Jiwal da Peerlan. The tall, pale man studied her and she returned the regard, noting especially the small stunner pistol cased on his belt. He smiled pleasantly, nodding to her as he passed and cheerfully and politely offering, “Filthy out-breeder.”