by Adam Carter
I refused to admit I had made friends, for that was just ludicrous.
Rising from the bed, avoiding the harshest of the springs, I looked around for my bag to pack and remembered I didn’t have one. That was fine, for I was used to travelling light, so striding across the room I opened the door and without looking back marched into the corridor. I stopped at the desk to hand in my key. The same grubby man that had checked us in was there and he barely reacted as I passed my key over.
Knowing better than to engage the fellow in conversation, I walked towards the lifts and waited. Lifts are a staple of every building in Rinden and they’re the one thing which are never out of service. I think it might be a crime punishable by execution or something. While I waited for the lift, I tried to work out whether anything else in the hotel worked properly. From the bad fan to the drab lightning, the entire place could have done with a landlord giving the place a once-over. There was even a strange crackling coming from somewhere, and as I turned on the spot in search for it I realised it was coming from me.
Patting myself down, I failed to find any reason I should be crackling and was somewhat confused.
“Comms unit,” the grubby man muttered from behind the desk. “The bad vibes of this place play havoc with ‘em.”
“But I don’t have a comm.” If I did, we could have called Iris and Gordon and the entire mess would never have happened.
The grubby man shrugged but said nothing. He continued to stare at me, but not in any lascivious way. For a while I thought he might even have died or something.
Then my fingers brushed against something pinned to my shirt and the crackling briefly changed pitch, as though I had run my hand across a microphone. Only it wasn’t a microphone: it was the red pin the Countess de Silver had given me.
I stopped, my eyes wide as I realised I was an idiot. I had allowed a strange woman to make me pin something to my chest and never once questioned why. The crafty woman had bugged me, which meant she had heard every word I’d spoken. It also meant she was even at that moment listening in on Cassiel’s conversation with the others, and who knew what juicy morsels she was discovering?
“You all right?” the grubby man asked.
“Me? Fine. I’m fine.” I should have removed the listening device, tossed it away and run as far and as fast as I possibly could; but that would have put Cassiel and the others in danger, for a soon as the countess realised I was onto her she would close whatever trap she was laying. If they had any chance of surviving, I needed to play along.
Again, I refused to believe I had made any friends.
Having checked out of the hotel, I could not then go right back in, for the countess would become suspicious, so instead I took the lift down to the ground and hung around there while I tried to think of a way out of my somewhat dire situation. I was still debating when Cassiel and the others found me, and I could not have been more relieved.
Out of their police uniforms, Iris and Gordon were just as I remembered them. Aged in her late twenties, Iris Arowana was a thin woman with dark hair and intense eyes. There was always something going on in her brain and looking into her eyes was often somewhat frightening. In contrast, Gordon Hawthorn was just annoyed. A few years older than Iris, Gordon was well-built and grumpy. He was easy on the eye but not my type; he was also extremely misogynistic, which has always been a turn-off for me. Supposedly, Iris has been softening him of late, but since that’s the only Gordon Hawthorn I ever knew I couldn’t imagine how he must have been before. The excuse he seemed to favour was that his wife cheated on him while he was away for months with work, which was why she was now his ex-wife, and that it was because of this that he tended to blame women for all his problems in life.
As excuses went, I felt it was pretty lame, but Iris must have accepted it, otherwise she wouldn’t have been with him, and she was far too clever a person to shack up with an idiot. That’s love coming back into play for you, though; it sure can do strange things to people.
“Roz, you made it,” Cassiel said, so at least someone was pleased to see me. I was all set to tell them about the transmitters, but stopped. If I said anything it would alert the countess to the fact I was onto her, and I had no idea how she would react. She had influence enough with the police to drag us out of an interrogation room, so there was every chance she had agents watching us right at that moment. By just tearing the two pins off and making a run for it I could be condemning us all to death.
Besides, the countess would already have found out Iris was alive, and we didn’t have any greater secret than that.
However, there was still a way I could turn this to our favour. “I have an idea where we can go,” I told them all. “The Countess de Silver, she’s part of a resistance movement against Securitarn.”
“Resistance movement?” Gordon asked. “Why are you talking like a spy all of a sudden?”
“She can help us,” I persisted. “At the very least she could hide us.”
“Fine, who is she?”
“I don’t know exactly, but all her agents wear these pins.”
Gordon looked to my pin and frowned. He reached forward and plucked it from my chest. I shook my head violently, but he ignored me so I turned my attention to Iris. With frightened eyes, I indicated the pin and inclined my head in a weird way which would catch her attention. She frowned, but within a moment had worked out that I didn’t want Gordon doing or saying something he shouldn’t. She would not know what precisely, or why, but she was clever enough to stop him from …
“This is a transmitter,” Gordon said before she could do much of anything. “This countess has you bugged.”
I groaned, Iris groaned, while Cassiel pulled off her own pin, dropped it to the ground and stamped on it with her arms raised as though she was squashing a particularly horrid bug. A moment later Gordon had crushed mine as well.
“Great,” I said. “Nice going, Einstein; now the countess knows we’re onto her.”
“Hey, I’m a mechanic,” he said. “If you don’t want me to recognise hardware you shouldn’t dangle it in front of my face.”
“We have to get out of here,” Iris said. “Whoever this countess is, she’ll be coming for us.”
“She knows you’re alive,” I said.
I could see Iris had already thought of that, but Gordon’s face was a picture.
“We can’t deal with that right now,” Iris said. “Roz, is there anywhere we could hide? Somewhere you went to before meeting the countess, I mean.”
“We could go back to the club,” I said. “The owner thinks we’re with the police and I did her a massive favour.”
“Oh no,” Cassiel said. “That place was horrible. I’m a young, naïve Themistonian acolyte; I can’t frequent unsavoury places like that.”
“Don’t worry,” Gordon said gently, “I’ll protect you, Cass.”
I swear I could hear the hiss of steam as it jetted out of Iris’s ears.
It was best not to hang around the street much longer and we soon found ourselves back in Delilah’s club. By this point in time it was open and everything was in full swing, literally so far as the dancers were concerned. What with the tall buildings everywhere, I had no idea what the time was, but inside the club it was always evening. The air was filled with the sickly sweet smell of sweat and spilled beer, while the noise of the party crowd brought back memories of my youth (which, by the way, I class as all the time prior to me going on the run).
“This place is disgusting,” Iris said as she looked around with an upturned nose.
“And degrading,” Gordon agreed.
Cassiel was back to quivering, but if she was going to start crying all over again Gordon could deal with her.
Making my way through the crowd, I was on the lookout for Delilah, but there was no sign of her. My eye caught the stage, where a man was dancing around a pole, and I remembered that Delilah had said all her dancers were male. He was not exactly muscular, but there was no fat on
him, either, and I must have missed most of his routine because all he was wearing was a thick pair of black pants and a white dicky bow.
“Eyes on the job, Roz,” Iris said. “The sooner we get out of this filthy place the better.”
“Am I the only one without any sense of decency?” I asked.
“You actually enjoy places like this?”
“How is it you managed to ask that in such a way that I’m going to feel ashamed when I admit that I do? I used to work in a place like this, Iris.”
“You worked in a strip club?”
“No, but I’ve found most drinking establishments are pretty much the same. Once the alcohol gets flowing, you can’t tell them apart at all.”
It was an answer she did not like, but I didn’t care all that much what she liked. I was annoyed with her and if taking her to that club was going to get her equally annoyed with me I was hardly going to shed any tears over it. For my part, I had taken this entire thing as one great adventure, but Cassiel genuinely cared for these people and they were perfectly happy to leave her thinking they were dead.
“Detective Reynolds,” Delilah said, appearing before me.
“Detective?” Iris asked.
“Are you saying she’s not a detective?” Delilah asked with mock astonishment.
“I’m no more a detective than your name’s Delilah,” I said.
“Touché. Oh, you asked me to listen out for news about your two friends? I found them for you. They’re right behind you.”
“You’re so funny. Could we possibly hide out here a while?”
“Why would you come here to hide?”
“Because since coming to Ganymede you’re the only person who hasn’t tried to use, kill or arrest us.”
She thought for several moments and I could see she was enjoying this. “Well, you did get rid of my club’s drug problem, so I suppose I owe you one.”
“The whole problem?”
“After Gloria was through with the peddlers, no one’s going to risk dealing anything here for a good long while.”
“That’s something I probably shouldn’t know anything more about.”
“Bottom line is yes, I owe you. George is coming off-stage soon. You want me to arrange a private dance?”
“That depends what he’s … I mean, no. We’re on the run from, well from everyone. I don’t have time for stuff like that.”
“Oh come on, there’s always time for stuff like that.”
I thought about all the people after us. The police, Securitarn. The countess. No, I decided, we definitely did not have time for that.
“Just mingle,” Delilah said. “Act natural for a while and I’ll do what I can for you. I assume you’re trying to get out of the country?”
“Off-world,” I said.
“We have a shuttle,” Gordon said, “only we can’t get to it. The police impounded it because we parked in the wrong place.”
“You people don’t have any luck, do you? Leave it with me. I’ll get it back for you.”
“You can do that?” I asked.
“I have a lot of clout with the police.”
“Again, something I don’t want to know too much about.”
“What’s the name of the shuttle?”
“The Bunnyhop Express.”
“Are you yanking my chain?”
“Nothing to do with me.”
Shaking her head, she walked off to do whatever she could for our situation. It left the four of us without anything specific to do, and it was a strange feeling to know that we had time on our hands. We had spent so much time running around since coming to Ganymede that the thought of kicking back and relaxing just seemed weird.
“We should get a drink,” I said.
“Great idea,” Iris countered. “We have the whole moon trying to get us, so we should all get drunk.”
“I said have a drink, not get drunk. If we don’t have drinks in our hands we’re going to stand out. Gordon, don’t you two ever have fun?”
“We have fun,” Iris said irritably – she was saying most things irritably and it wasn’t just because she was jealous of Cassiel.
“Come on,” I said, “I’ll shout you.” I ordered our drinks from the bar and was surprised at how quickly we were served. Now we were all well-armed we looked just like anyone else in the club. I sipped my whisky and wished I could afford to spend the evening there. Most of my best memories are hazy, which perhaps says something terrible about the state of my life.
“We should make a toast,” Gordon said, holding up his glass. “To Roz and Cass for coming to save us.”
I raised mine. “To not getting ourselves killed so far.”
The others toasted that.
“So,” I said to Iris, “you’re uptight and grumpy. Care to share why?”
“No.”
“Really? We’re alive, we have alcohol down our throats and we’re all still young and single.”
“Single?”
“Well, you’re not married to Gordon, right?”
“Married?” Gordon laughed, a look of terror in his eyes. “Been there, done that. Never sailing that ship again.”
That only irritated Iris further, and I hid my reaction with my tumbler. They were an odd pair, Gordon and Iris. I could understand Gordon’s perspective, for he had been burned once and had no intention of allowing himself to be hurt again. Iris was younger, but not to any great extent, and she had never been married. There was so much going on in her life I was surprised she had even considered it, yet her reaction told me she most certainly had. I should have known to leave well enough alone, but there’s always been a mean streak within me, especially with people I like.
“If you’re single,” I told her, “maybe the two of us should go see George perform.”
“I think he’ll be off the stage by now.”
“I know. Want to come?”
She narrowed her eyes at me and I could not help but laugh. I took a few steps away from the bar and she followed, placing a little distance between the others of our party.
“I’m not leaving them alone,” she said. It was quiet enough for Gordon and Cassiel not to overhear, for the noise of the club was at the level you would expect.
“Sorry,” I said, surprising myself that I meant it. “Iris, I’m sure there’s nothing between Gordon and Cass.”
“Of course there’s nothing between them. Gordon’s not like that.”
“Then why are you worried?”
“I’m not worried.”
I indicated the tightness with which she was clutching her glass. “Doesn’t look like it.”
“I’m allowed to be worried,” she said.
“Then why say you aren’t?”
She did not answer for several moments and I began to suspect she never would. Then she said, “I have baggage. I have so many people after me, Gordon has to spend his whole life now looking over his shoulder, worrying someone will find out I’m alive. I uprooted his life, literally kidnapped him at gunpoint to drag him into this … this whatever you’d call it. He should hate me, but he doesn’t. And I’m afraid one day he’s going to wake up and ask himself why he’s doing any of it.”
“He’s doing it because he loves you.”
“And he could just as easily love someone who isn’t causing him so many problems.”
“I don’t think love works quite that way, Iris. Besides, under all that cloth Cassiel’s probably as ugly as a rotten turnip.”
She did not laugh, which was a bad sign.
“Why now?” I asked. “You’ve had this problem for a while, surely, so why now?”
“It’s this place. Gordon was born on Ganymede, this must bring back a lot of memories for him. Plus, it’s where they’re based.”
“Securitarn.”
She nodded.
“I thought I’d be all right coming here,” she said. “I honestly did. But I’m not. I’m supposed to be the strong one in our relationship and I’m falling apa
rt here.”
“Why are you supposed to be the strong one?”
“I just am.”
“Then maybe you should ignore convention and admit your faults.”
“I’m a living repository for all of history’s knowledge. I don’t have any faults.”
“You’re still human.”
“Am I?”
“Oh. I get it. You think you’re not good enough for him. You’re not thinking that Gordon would be happier with Cassiel, you’re thinking he should be happier. You’re selling yourself short, Iris, and that’s something no one should ever do.” I was giving someone else advice in their love life; since I did not truly believe in love, that was something of a joke. “Iris, Cass is a good girl, but that’s all she is. A child with a crush.”
“She’s an adult.”
“That’s debatable.”
“I don’t know why I’m even talking to you about this.”
“Because you need to talk to someone about it, and it can’t be anyone on your ship. Me? I’m a drifter. Once this is over with, I’m gone, you’ll never seen me again. That’s why you’re talking to me. You don’t trust me, you don’t trust anyone, but pretty soon I’ll be out of your life forever. Besides, I saved your life one time and you think we should be friends, even though you don’t like me.”
“Wow,” she said snidely, “and I thought I was supposed to be the one with all the knowledge.”
“I can read people. I’ve always been good at that, and it’s kept me alive this long.”
“Detective,” someone said with a laugh and my heart leaped into my throat as a mountain gorilla – with emphasis on the mountain – blocked the light coming in from my right.
“Gloria,” I said, somewhat relieved. “I’m not a detective, by the way. My name’s Roz.”
“Sure, Detective.” She tapped the side of her nose as though she was now in on the secret. “Detective Roz Reynolds.”
“My name’s not Reynolds. Funnily enough, there is a Detective Reynolds, but he’s not me.”
“Sure.” She tapped her nose again.
I did not get the chance to ask what it was about me that she thought was a man, for a commotion erupted at the door. Everyone in the club strained to see and I watched as a familiar gang shoved their way in.