I yawned into my hand. “So, what have I gotta do to keep our stopover documents from appearing in the datacloud?”
My question came in the middle of his rant about keeping creditless immigrants out. He didn’t let my interruption faze him though. Although he was probably thinking of a way to learn me some manners, boy. And this was why I let Fran do the talking and only got involved when she needed me to sweeten the deal or break a few fingers.
Bruno sat across the table from me, his forty-something ex-wrestler bulk squeezed into one of Tink’s saloon-style booths. He wore a dark denim vest and tie, now stretched across his barrel chest, as though he’d dropped by the bar on his way home from the office. All the Ganymede commercial blocks had crumbled to ruins years ago.
He dug into a bowl of enriched peanuts and picked them from his palm one at a time. His mouth carried the kind of smirk that told me he knew he was the top cat, and would make me sit and wait until all the fuckin’ nuts were gone before I got my answer. I gulped some whiskey and refilled my glass from the unmarked bottle. My vision blurred and refocused.
Better slow down … after this glass.
“I’ve got some sweet due out near Lyra. How about you take it on board while your repairs are completed.” His smooth voice carried an outer-fringes accent, sounding something similar to European from back on old Earth.
Drug runs. Lyra. Easy credits. I craned my fingers over my glass and pretended to think on it. Bruno’s entourage mingled among the lively crowd, armed with Chitec pistols, but they’d be slow to draw. Half were high, while the other half had their eyes on the sex workers. None paid me any mind. And why would they? I was just a harmless tugship captain looking to score my next shipment. “And the bounty hunter?”
Bruno dismissed my question with a short wave. “Already dealt with.”
A smile lifted my lips. That would cost me. Bruno never did something out of the kindness of his taxed heart.
“Sure, I’ll carry your sweet, plus ten percent of your cut.” I picked up my drink and leaned forward. “And you get me clean out of Ganymede, free of any fleet.”
His liquid laughter washed over the crowd. “Fleet don’t touch the Mede, or me, Captain.”
He was right about that. They didn’t waste their time with bottom feeders, although Bruno was higher up the food chain than most. If they did, half the population of the nine systems would be in Asgard, and the already fragile planetary infrastructure would collapse. Best just to brush the scum under the rug and not mention them.
“It’s a pleasure, as always, Captain Shepperd.” He brushed his hands together and reached one out, inviting me to shake it.
I somehow managed to keep from cringing as I clasped his clammy hand in mine.
“Speaking of pleasure, while you’re staying, maybe you’d like to partake in some extra curricular activity.” He waved over one of his girls who had all the right junk in all the right places, but her sapphire eyes were as empty as fake gems.
“Thanks.” Deal done, I scooped up my bottle, almost missing it, and stood, “but I have my favorites.”
Sampling one of Bruno’s girls was a surefire why of losing the contents of my pockets and gaining a few parasites.
I carved my way through the crowd to the bar, thoughts on how I was now carrying sweet for Bruno. And once at the drop-off, his buyer would no doubt try and screw me over. And this was how my world worked, balancing one fucker against another.
“Tut-tut, Cale …” Fran purred, easing her ass on the barstool beside me. “You declined Bruno’s hospitality. He’ll take it personally.”
I wasn’t surprised she’d been watching. We had an unspoken rule to provide backup should discussions turn sour. “Then you go screw her.”
“I might. She’s tight.”
I arched a brow, leaned back against the bar, and followed Fran’s line of sight to the girl already working her next trick. Fran smiled when I faced her, flashing perfect teeth. I tried my most charming smile and mixed it up with the cocked eyebrow. “I’d pay to watch though.”
She laughed, bright and sharp. “You’d learn a few things, Captain.”
“You could always teach me, one-on-one. Private lesson like.”
She picked up my drink and sniffed. “You’re drunk.”
“I’m just getting started.”
“In that case you won’t care much that your brother has decided to be on his way. I think he thought if he spent any more time on Starscream, he’d catch criminal off us.”
My brother had fucked off without saying goodbye—nothing new there—but mention of my sibling had cooled the warmth roused by thoughts of Fran and Bruno’s girl together.
“Buy me a drink,” I ordered, completely lacking conviction.
“Go fuck yourself.”
At least we were back to sparring with words. I eyed the girls working Tink’s, searching for any familiar faces. “It might come to that.”
“What do you think of the synth?”
“I think we’ll be leaving her right here when we bail in a few days.” I spotted one of the workers who’d been around Tink’s for a while. She didn’t look any older than when I’d first met her a few years ago, and no doubt paid for the anti-aging enhancements out of her take. Bruno kept them forever working off a debt of one kind or another.
“The synth’s interesting.”
The way Fran said the word interesting definitely piqued my interest. “We’ve seen enough interesting shit to last more than a lifetime. What she is ain’t interesting. It’s dangerous.”
Fran gave me a less than impressed eye roll. “You have a walking, talking conduit to the data files, and you’ve barely asked her more than her name. What are you afraid of?”
“Nothing.” I took my drink from in front of Fran and swallowed a deep measure. “Send her here. I’ll talk to her. She’ll tell me in that singsong voice of hers all the facts I wanna know, but she won’t feel a word of it. She’s cold.”
“People can change.”
“People can. Machines can’t.” I wet my lips with whiskey.
“She’s not a machine; she’s a synthetic. Like us, but her flesh and blood is manufactured.”
I screwed up my nose. “Plastic and electrics put together on a production line.”
“Human beings are just neural impulses and moving parts too.”
“Right, but we have souls. You can’t make those.”
“What happened to yours?”
“I have a soul,” I mock-whined. “I just misplaced it somewhere around the nine.”
“Pinche idiota,” Fran muttered.
I snorted and choked on whiskey and a laugh. If she was dusting off her Spanish, that meant I was getting to her. “You know I love it when you speak Spanish, honey.” She lifted her middle finger and left me at the bar. I could watch her walk away all night and took great pleasure in following that ass until the crowd swallowed her up.
Chapter Thirteen: #1001
After exploring the ship and discovering a multitude of hidden panels and secret cargo, I followed Fran’s advice and sought out her cabin, finding it pleasantly spacious compared to Shepperd’s. Borrowed flight suit in hand, I discovered a locker-sized shower tucked into the corner of her cabin. I discarded my cloak and Chitec issued clothing, pulled my hair free from its short braid, and stepped under the jets of water. Shepperd was right; I needed to blend in. I’d attracted attention on Calisto and that couldn’t happen again. If I wanted to move freely and carry out my orders, I had to adapt.
I am #1001, and I follow orders.
I splayed my hands against the warm steel cubicle and closed my eyes. Warm water streamed down my face, through my hair, over my shoulders, and down my back, and it felt good. I really needed to get off the ship and explore the port for its weaknesses and escape routes. But the pattering of the water on my synthetic skin, the cocoon of warmth, the rolling steam, it all insisted I stay. I opened my sense receptors and allowed the delicious sensation
s to flood inside and fill me up. Most days I didn’t care for touch or taste—it was all nonsense data that made no real difference as to how I interacted with the world—but today was different. Today, for reasons I didn’t understand, the nonsense meant something, and I welcomed it. Embraced it.
This is meaningless data ... I had to trail Shepperd, to learn more. I had orders.
“I can’t.”
“Can’t what?”
I jumped and swept my wet hair out of my face and eyes. Fran stood outside the cubicle with my borrowed flight suit in hand and her other hand planted on her hip. Her fine, dark eyebrow arched. I shut off the water and stepped into the ship’s frigid air.
“You looked to be enjoying that a little too much for a machine.”
I grabbed a towel, soft as cardboard, and rubbed myself dry. Fran’s heart rate increased, and there was no mistaking where her attention lay. After scrunching my hair dry, I tossed the towel aside, letting her drink me in. All synth bodies were the same, designed to be desirable; nobody wanted to come back ugly. Apparently, it didn’t matter what was on the inside.
“Is there something you want to tell me, synth?” she asked.
I tugged on a tank top and a pair of pants, with Fran watching everything.
“There are plenty of things I want to tell you, Francisca, but none that I can.”
She handed me the flight suit. “I didn’t know synthetics were so … perfect.”
“Appearances can be deceiving.”
She blinked and stepped back. Her heart rate decreased and the flush in her cheeks faded. “Caleb says to tell you he wants to meet you at the corner of Green and Five. There’s a bar. Don’t take too long or he’ll be comatose before you get there.”
Chapter Fourteen: Caleb
Several drinks later and my thoughts fuzzier for it, the synth arrived, smelling of Fran’s lavender soap. I turned my head, about to remark on it, and then completely lost my ability to speak. Sweet fuck. I meant to comment on how “normal” she looked but couldn’t find the words.
“Just er …” I waved the bartender over, took a glass off him, and poured the synth two fingers from my bottle. “Can you drink, yah know, alcohol?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Get that in you.” Her delicate fingers wrapped around the smoked glass. She lifted it to her mouth, took a delicate sip, and lowered the glass back on the bar. “Well?”
Her tongue flicked across her upper lip.
Fuck, she looks human.
Her hair spilled to the tops of her shoulders in a perfectly straight cut. When she dipped her chin, that silvery waterfall of hair fell forward, hiding her face.
“It’s nice,” she replied in that cultured voice of hers.
“Nice? Nice is nothing. Nice is bland. Nice is the morning after when you can’t remember her name.”
I hunched over the bar and wrapped my hands around my glass to stop myself from staring. When I’d told her to look normal, I hadn’t believed she could. Now she looked too normal, as though she could actually be human.
She’d gone quiet. I turned my head and lost myself in her all over again. What had I been saying? She was wearing one of Fran’s flight suits. It hung off her shapely shoulders and gaped at the collar. I let my mind wander and considered what it might be like to slip that flight suit off her shoulders, and then smiled at the direction my thoughts were heading. She was fake. More fake than me. Sex with a synth? Kinky.
I’m drunk, and this is ridiculous.
I was sitting in a bar on Ganymede next to a synth. Fleet wanted my balls and Chitec had already screwed me and would again the second they caught up with me.
I downed my drink and filled it again, vision swimming.
“Is that wise?”
“Wise?” I snorted. “I’ve never been wise. Ask my brother.”
“What if we’re discovered?”
“Fran will fly us outta here before anyone can stop us. This is the only chance I’m going to get to drink until I forget. And it ain’t easy for me to forget. With every hour, the chance of us getting caught increases. Right now, this”—I lifted the glass—“works for me. I can be wise tomorrow.”
She lifted her glass again and looked into it as if it might jump out of her hand and bite her.
I twisted on the stool and looked her over. Considering how delicate she appeared, she sure could pack quite the punch. If she were standing next to Fran, she’d look like the shy girlfriend; the quiet ones were the ones to watch.
“Is there anything of the human being still inside you?” The chatter around us rose and fell like waves on a beach. Nobody cared to pay us any attention, and that was exactly how I liked it.
She turned her head, tucked her hair behind her ear, and smiled. Just that: smiled. Maybe she couldn’t answer, so her smiles answered for her.
“One of the life-ever-after program’s unique selling points was the fact that those who participate remember. It’s like living again.” I waved my hand in a dramatic flourish then lowered my voice. “But I know that’s not true. I’ve seen it, what they do.”
Her fragile smile faded. “You have?”
I pressed a finger to my lips. “Shh. Secrets cost lives. Some things I can’t say. Like you. You look nice, by the way. Normal—mostly.”
“Fran said you wanted to see me.”
“Ah, yes.” I couldn’t remember why and groped around for an explanation.
“I believe Fran is attracted to me.”
That explained the smell of lavender soap. Fran and the synth; I could get behind that image. I gulped some whiskey and winced as it burned all the way down. “Probably. She’ll fuck anything that moves. Just not me.”
#1001 cut me the oddest sideways look, part frown, part … what? I didn’t care what she thought, or that she could think. As soon as the repairs were completed, Fran and I were leaving, and that little piece of Chitec ass was staying right here. I needed to be back-in-black, earning credit. Every second Starscream sat in port, not delivering, I lost money. The sooner I could jump the system, the sooner I’d shake fleet, Chitec, and my fuckin’ past.
A guy muscled in at the bar beside #1001. He did a not-so-casual once-over of the synth and licked his lips. Subtle. He was in way over his head with that one. I smiled into my drink.
“Hey, anyone ever tell you your hair shines like the flare off the back of a raptor class A?”
A laugh interrupted my gulp of whiskey, sending it down the wrong hole; I spluttered and coughed. Ladies and gentlemen, we have a romantic.
The synth blinked at her suitor. “No.”
I laughed harder. She was taking his words literally. This would be fun to watch.
“Hey, pal. You got a problem?”
“Fuck no.” I waved him on. “Good luck with her. Just watch her right hook.”
I scooped up my drink and left the bar. #1001 was more than capable of looking out for herself. I planned to spend my first hours of shore leave getting pissed enough to forget the day.
I took my bottle off to one side and observed the crowd. Some faces I knew, most I didn’t. Folks came to Ganymede to trade. People, drugs, supplies, anything and everything got passed under the tables here. I’d met Fran on Ganymede, accidentally saved her ass. She’d needed a get away and my second had just quit. Fran had fluttered her lashes, thrusting her chest in my face, and had led me by my dick until I’d said yes. It had taken me one system jump to make a move on her and for her to slap me down. We’d pretty much been dancing to the same tune since. If it was a girl thing, I could let it go, but she’d fucked a string of guys in a string of ports. Me? Nothing. Another guy might have taken that kinda shit personally.
“Caleb?”
I looked up, drawn out of my thoughts, and smiled at the familiar face. Jesse. I couldn’t forget her name;
she’d made me say it while we’d fucked senseless. She eased her enhanced body onto the chair next to mine. Jesse had once been beautiful, or so I told myself, but life on Ganymede had eaten away at her beauty, and her artificial enhancements hadn’t helped none. She’d gained a scar on her smooth cheek since I’d last seen her. For her not to get it fixed meant she was down on credit and probably looking for tricks. I was easy game and we both knew it.
“Hello there, Captain. I sure didn’t expect to see you back here so soon.” She spoke slowly, drawing her voice out like pulling silk through her fingers.
“Couldn’t stay away.”
She combed her hair back, sweeping it over her shoulders. A stirring started low in my balls as my thoughts wandered to where this conversation was inevitably going. Jesse was good at her work, so good she charged more than most of the girls working the crowd.
She walked her fingers up my arm. “How’s life in the black?”
“It’s ...”
She leaned in and slipped her hand under the table, setting it gently on my thigh.
I cleared my throat. “Worse in some places, better in others.”
When I lifted my gaze, her elegant face and deliberate doe eyes filled my vision.
“I always wanted to see it … the black.”
“It’s erm …” Her fingers kneaded into muscle, just on the sweet side of pain. “It all looks the—”
She pinched my thigh, sending a sharp jolt up my leg.
“Whoa. Okay.”
“I know how you like it. That’s why you’re here, right?”
“Yes, I mean … not exactly.” I swallowed; even I needed a little foreplay. “New scar?”
The way she stilled and immediately touched her fingers to her cheek made me instantly regret mentioning it.
“I have a little problem,” she purred, smoothly slipping back into her role.
“You do, huh?” My gaze flicked back to the bar, where I’d last seen the synth and her “date,” but they’d both vanished. Shit. Even the machine was getting action.
Girl From Above: Betrayal (The 1000 Revolution) Page 6