“I need to take a shower,” I admit, my cheeks ablaze again. I don’t know why it’s too embarrassing for me to look at him after copping to that, but it takes a lot of mental strain to will myself to level my gaze with his. When I do, I’m surprised at the cocky smile on his face.
“Is that so?”
“Well, yeah.” I bite my bottom lip to keep from laughing again. “I was going to shower before you ambushed me.”
“And what’s your proposal? I still haven’t heard what’s in it for me if I stop coming on to you.” Cole sneaks up on me again, trailing kisses down the side of my neck. It’s heavenly and delicious and perfect.
“Hey, now.” I put up a hand to block his advances. “Stop distracting me.”
“What’s the fun in that?”
Touché.
“Then why don’t you join me?” I ask, speaking before I really have time to think about what I’m suggesting.
Cole feels like what I imagine the sensation of coming home is, and he still sends crazy chills of anxiety through me. I want to get closer to him, to feel truly comfortable without my self-consciousness muddying the playing field.
“I like the sound of that,” he whispers.
Tingles cascade down my spine. I look into his eyes again, trembling as he moves in slow-motion to kiss me again. It’s soft and tender, intimate in a way I’m unaccustomed to.
Hands intertwined, we scurry toward the shower without taking our eyes off each other. There’s a low-key vulnerability involved in bathing in someone else’s presence, not to mention that of a new lover’s, but I give in to that, too, for Cole. He fetches the shower crystals and turns on the water. It’s cinematic and wonderful to watch the rainfall-like torrent blanket us in a heady mist. The pleasant aroma emanating from the crystals swirls to the top, engulfing us.
Wordlessly, Cole and I proceed to rub the crystals over each other’s bodies. We work in a steady, sensual pace, careful not to miss a single inch of uncleansed skin. The suds take on a life of their own—foam streams down our torsos and legs before spiraling to our feet.
“Hey,” Cole says, his voice low and velvet-smooth.
“Yeah?” I let fresh drops of water fall down my face to clear the soap from my eyes.
“Would you consider doing something for me?”
Trepidation rises in me. “Depends on what it is.”
“You wound me,” Cole replies. It’s clearly an attempt to break the ice that’s formed around us like walls.
I wait for the last of the soap to clear from our skins before turning the water off. “It’s not like that.”
His face turns serious. “I know. I’m only kidding, Lily.”
I reach for a towel and rub the soft fabric down my body to dry myself off. My doubts and hesitance fade away when I chance another furtive glance at Cole. I slip a fresh set of clothes back on and gulp, unable to resist the honesty in his eyes.
I can trust this man. I know I can.
He looks at me intently. I feel a tug at my consciousness, and I almost bristle, steeling myself away, before realizing it’s Cole’s doing.
Let me scan your memory.
It’s an exchange that only happens on a mental plane, but his request comes across to me plain as day. I don’t get a chance to formulate a question in response before he answers what’s unclear to me.
For leads. That’s it.
“Hm.” I turn away, wracking my mind for the right reply to that. His request took me by surprise, after all. The only thing I can come up with is the conclusion I already came to: I can trust him.
And so I will.
“Okay.” I spin back around. “But skip past the really embarrassing bits, will you?”
Cole grins. Wasting no time, his eyes slip closed as his scanners explore the corners of my mind, searching the waves embedded in my memory. Some are pleasant, overriding my own hold on the here-and-now and taking me back to better times. As quickly as one waves over me, so it recedes, and the next memory takes form. It’s a steady progression of an eclectic mix of heartwarming, annoyingly muted, or, more frequently than I like, a torturous agony that a selection of them evoke.
Thankfully, Cole has the presence of mind to skip past whatever lacks relevance.
My eyes prick with tears when he trips onto the memory I want so desperately to conceal: Donner’s hands over my body. I struggle to find something to say, but he doesn’t probe any further.
Suddenly, I’m bowled over by an epiphany. There is indeed something we can use.
“I know who to ask for Donner’s hyper-dock codes,” I blurt. “If we make good time. I know how we can stop him from fleeing after the job.”
Donner’s AI may have well gotten the last few bits of info that I allowed them to have—that was an undeniable fact. Despite my knowledge making up the entirety of their intel, they are still far, far away from knowing all of what I know. I didn’t give them everything, after all.
There is a way to jam that asshole up.
24 Cole
We stand staring at a row of stalls. The row seems to go on and on in a rainbow of colors. Each one advertises all sorts of AI products, ranging from hardware to cosmetics and clothing. As we stroll down the rows, the vendors flash their wares in our faces as though we’re at a bazaar. I hate it. I’ve never been comfortable with jumpy, active movements. Especially when they’re directed at my face.
“I think it’s at this stall.” Lily tugs on my arm, forcing me to walk at a faster pace.
“How do you know? Other than the color, all of these stalls look the same.”
She rolls her eyes. “Because I know. Trust me.”
I sigh in response. I’ve never been good at following, but I let her take the lead. She’s right. I need to just trust her.
We approach one vendor that’s toward the back of the terminal. It’s a bit smaller than the others and filled with what looks like cheap, garbage products. Some of them have obviously been tampered with. Seals are broken, and several packages are missing their unique security locks.
Lily scours the racks of products. Her hands press through the endless amount of clear, plastic packaging. She’s in an unmarked section that carries numerous AI remotes. They all look to be at least twenty years if not more.
After a few minutes, she retrieves one of the antique remotes that hangs third from the back.
“Why didn’t you just grab the first one?” I ask.
“Because this is the one that we need,” she says as she hands it to the vendor.
He holds out his scanning device, waiting for payment. I’m reluctant to purchase it, but she seems so certain.
“Trust me,” she repeats.
I nod and pull my bank chip from my pocket. I slide it across his device, half expecting for my account number to get pulled along with the payment. It’s a common scam.
“Payment processed,” the machine chirps.
“Thank you.” The vendor nods.
Before I can reply, Lily grips my wrist and tugs me onward. There’s a noticeable rush in her step, but I don’t question it. I can feel her anxiety. She’s afraid Donner will slip through our grasp.
She directs us to Delta Terminal, a less desirable part of Temis Station, and backs into a small nook. It’s an access port for small cleaning droids. Even so, garbage clutters the corners. It’s obvious the few homeless who live here frequent this space from time to time.
“What are we doing here?” I ask as we crouch down.
“There are no cameras,” she says as her fingers tear the packaging off the product. It crinkles and falls to the floor. Her hand wraps around the small remote device, and without another word, she begins to bang it on the floor.
“Careful! You’ll break it.”
“That’s what I’m hoping for. Just keep an eye out for any of Donner’s henchmen,” she says as the device cracks like an eggshell. Her fingers peel away the triangular bits and snatch a small cube.
“What is that?”
“Why can’t I see it?” I focus on the cube in her hands, but my scanners retrieve nothing.
“Because the shell blocks any incoming signals. The message contained on this chip is only for those that are connected.”
“And how do you become connected?”
She shrugs her shoulders. “You gotta know someone who knows someone who knows someone. This group is run by a strong set of programmers who are privilege to private information that one wouldn’t normally be able to get their hands on.”
She clenches the cube in her hands and closes her eyes for a brief moment. That same serene look that I witnessed before comes over her. She’s tapping into the chip. But it only lasts for a second or two. When she reopens her eyes, she hops up from her knees.
“What did the message say?”
“It didn’t say anything. It showed a place on a map.”
“Do you recognize the location?”
“I think so.” She grabs me by the hand, interlocking our fingers. “Unfortunately.”
We walk out of the nook, and she leads us deeper into Delta Terminal. The lights are dim from being splattered and spat on. To make it worse, there’s an odd smell that’s distinct from Temis’s usual uppity floral scent. But the growing number of ‘adult’ stores almost overwhelms me.
“Are you absolutely sure it’s Terminal Delta you saw?”
“Yes, Terminal D.” She winks. “Oh! It’s over here.” She points to a skeevy Holo-booth.
I cringe was we pull back the reflective curtain. “How does this thing work?”
“It’s a game. The prize is access to whatever sub-system you want to enter on the station.”
My eyes narrow. “Didn’t I just pay for the dock codes?”
“You paid for the opportunity to win a game that will grant them to you. Programmer’s humor, and also ... it makes sure the wrong info doesn’t end up in intellectually challenged hands.”
25 Lily
I tap into the machine, searching frantically for all the conceivable pathways of code. I miss the first few seconds to dive into another section of the server that I suspect the programmers used to hold the information I seek—no, even that’s not dramatic enough. It’s not just any little bit of intel that I whimsically need. I yearn for it with every fiber of my being.
It’s not enough to simply win the game. That will never be a water-tight way to pull the wool over Donner’s eyes. What I need to do first is to get in the right info-neighborhood to gain the prize.
The thing is, going into a system blind, as I am, is frustrating as all the living fuck. I can’t shake the hopelessness that tugs at my heartstrings. Even if I do manage to get ahold of the tendrils of the intel that I need, what guarantee do I have that it won’t slip out of my grasp like sand? What’s to say—
I have it.
Like a fisherman in the days of yore, the sight of my bait attracting the target sends quivers of joy down my spine. I’m triumphant. Even after watching every single plan I concocted fail miserably, I know that it is the law of averages that I am destined to prevail. I reach deeper into the binary strings of 1s and 0s, sieving through the code with trembling anticipation.
It’s almost within reach.
Until it’s not. Just as I feared, the damned info-bit is a trap. An annoying, old-style computer icon pops up in front of me like a virtual jack-in-the-box, sticking its tongue out at me. Whoever devised this little techno-practical joke is old school. A maverick. Of course freaking Donner has one such aficionado on his payroll. That rat bastard.
Focus, Lily.
It’s Cole’s voice, heralding a calm comfort that rushes through me. He’s right, of course. I exhale deeply and calibrate my aim again, searching through the endless rows of digits that bleed together. There must be something that I can do. If there’s any chance that this entire exercise leads to a gigantic waste of time, I am confident I would have sniffed it out by now.
Tick, tock, tick, tock.
It is bad enough to be flailing and spiraling out of control. The constant pressure does not help in the slightest. I wish there was a way to turn off part of my brain so that the other half can have a fighting chance at pulling this off. The stubborn part of me refuses to give in, refuses to admit that there is the chance that I will come out of this a loser. Utterly defeated.
Focus, Lily.
Tick, tock, tick, tock.
That train of thought gives way to a lightbulb moment. I measure my excitement, uneasy with the prospect that it may still be a losing hand. Still, it’s as good a guess as I will ever have. I slide into home plate, and not even a beat goes by before the screen flashes with an improbable SUCCESS. The lettering is brilliant, comprised of gold curlicues and old-fashioned girl icons that dance and strut beside the banner.
Relief washes over me.
“Job well done,” Cole praises.
I want to give in to him again, to bask in the glow of his satisfaction and congratulatory note, but I just cannot. The near-miss has a chokehold on my consciousness, and even with my ultimate victory, I feel like my legs will buckle under me at any moment.
“Lily?” Cole prods. “What’s up?”
“It’s nothing.” I shrug. “I should have nailed it the first time, is all.”
Cole opens his mouth to say something, but I hold my hand up to dissuade him from doing so. I don’t need to be made to feel better about this. What I need to be okay is to know that all of this is a bad dream. Further, I need it to be in the rearview mirror with absolutely no chance of a revival.
26 Cole
We arrive at the hyper-docks, and my eyes never stop moving. I push my senses. I need to be extra vigilant since I have Lily at my side and the portal to intergalactic travel is so near. It is the prime situation for her to be captured again.
I was against coming here, but she insisted. She needs to see this though.
The patrols don’t take empty warnings seriously, given the kind of money the bigwigs riding those things are spending. Therefore, we have to identify which ships Donner has targeted before we can report anything.
I scan my bank chip, and we enter a private observation booth. Normally these are for tourists to sit and watch the galaxy twirl before their eyes in the comfort of a well-stocked deck. But these booths also have a console. It’s used to provide information and informs viewers about what they are watching when the scene changes. That’s not why we wanted to use it though.
“This is really nice,” Lily says as we enter the booth. One entire wall is covered in long, multi-paned windows that appear to be as thick as my wrist.
“They really don’t take any risks with their rich clientele, do they?” I say as I step closer to the glass front. The inner pane was tempered alumina-silicate, and the outer panes were fused silica—common stock for station windows.
“Look at these chairs.” Lily sinks into one. Her frame is totally encompassed by the cushions.
I sit in the seat connected to hers and smile. I shouldn’t be this happy at this moment, considering what we are here for, but the emotion takes over. Our combined joy fills and consumes me. I lean forward and press a small peck on her lips.
When I pull away, blush fills her cheeks. She seems to shrink a bit into herself.
“Why are you blushing?” I ask.
“Because sometimes I just can’t believe I’m actually with someone like you.”
I kiss her again. This time there’s passion behind my lips. All I want to do is love her and protect her and help her grow and make her see she’s deserving of everything she wants in life.
“Intimate contact with your fellow attendees within our observation booths is strictly prohibited. Please respect the comfort and safety of your fellow visitors,” the console chirps at us.
“Why am I not surprised that’s a thing?”
I can’t help but laugh, and it feels good. “Straig
ht to work then?”
She takes a quick nip at my lips. “If it wasn’t so important for us to make sure that bastard gets caught, we’d violate every rule this booth has.”
This time it’s my turn to blush.
“Such a modest bounty hunter,” she teases as she turns to the console. “I’m going in.”
“Be careful,” I say.
The consoles in the observation booths have been setup only to import information about physical galaxography, or galactic geography, and they accessed that information through the station’s main database. Normally, breaching that firewall was impossible, but for a strong neurapath, it only required physical proximity.
“Give me a moment,” she says as her hands land on the console’s main board. “I’m going to enter, and then I’ll pull the hyper-dock surveillance footage up onto the monitors.”
I sit in complete silence as she dials into the wires and crawls up the lines with her mind. My eyes scan her. Her breathing slows to almost a halt, and her heart’s rhythm becomes a quiet, soft song. She’s so tranquil.
How can something that looks so peaceful become so destructive in the wrong hands?
Donner’s desire to hijack a luxury-liner carrying a number of VIPs into the neighboring galaxy disturbed me. I shudder to think what the fiend has planned for them.
Lily takes a deep breath, and the monitors come to life. Videos of people entering the security lines, strolling about the bay, and climbing aboard vessels bursts into view. My scanners flew into action locking onto every face and pulling their identification from the patrol’s own database.
After a few minutes of searching, I don’t get any hits. “He’s not here,” I say. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.
“Not yet.”
I slip my hand into hers, and our fingers intertwine. We’ve got a long day ahead of us, sitting and staring at these screens, waiting for action.
The Cyborg Bounty Hunter: In the Stars Romance Page 12