by M. D. Cooper
Ramsey ignored the pilot. “I know you do, Petra, but we can’t tip our hand yet. They don’t know we’re looking for them, this is our chance to gather intel.”
Petra frowned, and then nodded. “Fine, I understand.”
She walked out of the cockpit and Ramsey shook his head. “Women…”
“Pardon?”
“What was that, fool?”
“Say that again?”
“Yuhhh…” Ramsey tried to think of something he could have meant by the statement that wouldn’t get him in more trouble. “Ah, fuck.”
* * * * *
BAMF slid the Van’s side airlock door shut and locked the handle in place before patting the hull where the red stripe ran.
It was standard fare as far as passenger areas went. Crowds of people hurried along followed by their personal baggage hovers. A string of food and knick-knack establishments stretched down the dock on either side, and benches were arranged in non-conversationally conducive configurations. Through it all, deck cars drove by, clearly above the five kilometer per hour speed limit, honking little horns on their dashboards as they went.
A conspicuous number of people with green and blue skin, but without matching hair, were also in evidence.
“Seems like people don’t take the rules too seriously here,” Lashes commented.
“Doesn’t mean we won’t,” Ramsey said and glanced at Lashes. “No green or blue skin, just be normal for once.”
“Colonel!” Lashes said with a hand to her chest. “You wound me! You cut me to the quick!”
“Shut up, you fool,” BAMF scowled. “Let’s get some food. I’m starving.”
Ramsey and Lashes followed BAMF down the dock and out into the station proper.
Pegasus station was a long spur, which was anchored to an asteroid in New Eden’s Kuiper Belt. It wasn’t huge, only a hundred kilometers long, but it was known for its fine cuisine. Ramsey didn’t trust BAMF’s nose to lead them anywhere good, and when he spotted a decent-looking establishment, he guided them in.
Ramsey was wearing a crisp pair of pants, simple shirt and jacket, while Lashes was wearing a flouncy skirt and tight top. The maître d’ gave Ramsey and Lashes a nod, but leveled a frown at BAMF.
“No, no, madam, you cannot wear that in here!” the man said with a resolute shake of his head.
BAMF looked down at her shirt. Barely visible through the chains were the words, ‘That’s Right, I Fucked Your Mom – BAMF’. It was made worse by a depiction of the act on the back.
“I pity the fool who—” BAMF began before Ramsey stopped her.
“It’s pretty unpleasant,” he said. “I mean…”
“It’s the blood,” Lashes added. “The blood’s pretty nasty.”
“Fine!” BAMF grunted and pulled the shirt off and flipped it inside out before pulling it back on. “This is OK, right?” she said while taking a step toward the maître d’.
The man paled. “Yes, yes, much better. Follow me.”
Ramsey couldn’t help but notice that they were seated in the back of the restaurant in darkest corner. He didn’t care; after a week of eggs and toast points, he would do anything for a good meal.
He looked over the menu and saw that they had scallops and decided that a plate of those would be great to start.
When their server arrived, he ordered the dish, while Lashes selected a salad, and BAMF bullied the woman into giving her toast and eggs.
“Human serving staff,” Lashes commented as she stared at their server’s ass the woman retreated. “Don’t see that too much.”
“Not at the sort of places we usually go to,” Ramsey replied with a smile. “But for once we’re in a nice system, with nice people, and we can eat at a nice restaurant.”
“You realize we’re a hundred light-minutes from the closest ocean,” Lashes said with a grin. “How fresh do you expect those scallops to be?”
“I’m counting on this fine establishment to deliver on the promise their ambiance makes,” Ramsey replied.
They waited in silence, and Ramsey took the time to search for any data on their target’s ship, or its crew. There wasn’t much to be found, though he did learn that the Ludicrus Star came to Pegasus Station several times a New Eden year. They had to be into something worthwhile to make such frequent runs, Ramsey just couldn’t imagine what.
The other thing he noticed was that the Ludicrus Star had a top-notch reputation on Pegasus station, even though Pega Station had rated them as utterly untrustworthy—he distinctly recalled seeing a big frowny face next to their ship on Pega’s registry.
The drinks arrived and Ramsey took a sip of his wine. He was unfamiliar with New Eden vintages, but it was good and soothed his palette. Lashes got a drink with an umbrella in it that she sipped daintily, and BAMF downed her beer in a single gulp.
“Moar, wench!” BAMF bellowed and Ramsey shook his head. If they made it through the dinner without getting kicked out, he’d count it as a miracle. Perhaps that was why they usually ate in dive bars.
A few minutes later, their appetizers arrived and Ramsey knew something was wrong from the start. One side of the scallops was too dark, and the other was as pale as a ghost. He felt rage build in him that his dish had been prepared like this. So much for Pegasus station having fine dining.
He caught the waitress’s eye and signaled her over.
“Look at this, just look at this, what is wrong with these?” he didn’t bother to lower his voice, and the carrot in his mouth waggled angrily.
The waitress looked confused. “You didn’t even eat any of them.”
“Of course I didn’t. Look at this! One side is overcooked, and the other side is raw! It’s RAW! Raw as this delicious orange carrot in my mouth!” Ramsey yelled.
“We have the famous Chef Burbon at the head of our staff. I’m sure he would never let anything that is both raw and overcooked leave our kitchen.” The woman was glancing around, hoping to mollify her irate customer.
“You donkey! You work here and you can’t tell if these scallops are acceptable by looking at them? You stupid moron!” Ramsey’s face was beginning to turn red and he resisted the urge to stand. “If you think your chef is so spectacular, you eat one.”
“Um, sir, I don’t really—”
“Eat it!” Ramsey yelled.
The woman looked around the table for help, but none came.
Instead, BAMF just gave her a wicked grin and said, “Eat the scallop, you fool.”
The woman gulped and took a dainty bite of a scallop. Her face took on a grimace and she smiled wanly. “You might be right, sir.”
“Why don’t you bring another plate of scallops,” Lashes suggested to the woman with a smile and a pat on the arm. “Try to make sure it’s done right. The colonel here has a delicate palette.”
The waitress took the plate away and Ramsey did his best to calm down. He noticed Lashes and BAMF sharing a smile.
“What?” he asked.
“Oh nothing,” Lashes said, her eyes serious. “Just that you always have some sort of blow-out like this when we come to a nice restaurant.”
“I do not!” Ramsey exclaimed.
“You do,” Lashes said while BAMF nodded seriously with a bit of bread stuck to her lip. “It’s why we usually eat in dive bars. That way no one can hear you berating the wait staff so much. In quiet joints like this, it sorta carries.”
“Me?” Ramsey was flabbergasted. “I’m the reason we can’t go to nice places? Look at BAMF, she comes here and gets the same thing they make everywhere.”
“They make them better here,” BAMF grunted. “Dive bars never get the eggs right.”
A tall man in chef’s whites was approaching their table with a frown on his face. He carried a fresh plate of scallops.
“Sir, your scallops,” he said with a disdainful sniff.
Ramsey looked up at the man and back down at the plate. His trained eye told him that they wouldn’t be much better, but he took a bite anyway.
“Rubber!” he yelled and spit it out. “You call yourself a Frensch-Trained Chef and you can’t even make scallops!”
“Missour, please,” the chef said, his beet-red face standing out against his white coat and hat. “I assure you that those scallops are cooked to perfection. I prepared them myself.”
“Did you? Then you need to go back to culinary school. I wouldn’t trust you to run a bath, let alone a kitchen.”
With that, Ramsey slammed his fist into the plate, smashing the scallops and sending bits of the rubbery seafood in all directions. He stood and his face was mere inches from the chef’s
“My gran can cook better than you, and she’s been dead a hundred years. Now fuck off before I shove this plate up your ass sideways!”
“BAMF?” Lashes asked quietly.
“Yeah,” the large woman asked from around a mouthful of eggs.
“When we get back to the ship, delete all the copies of that old cooking show he likes so much.”
* * * * *
Later, in the station security office, Ramsey swore that the chef had thrown the first punch. Lashes and BAMF backed his story, but they were the only ones.
“I can’t believe you got us into a bar fight at a place named ‘Chez Maison’,” Lashes said while shaking her head. “This is why we can’t have nice things.”
BAMF was grinning, her smile stretched from ear to ear as she watched the goings on in the security station. “It’s a brilliant plan.”
“Plan?” Lashes asked. “This was a plan?”
“Of course it was a plan,” the colonel nodded. “I mean, they made it easy, the scallops were shit.”
A woman in a casual business suit approached them and Ramsey suspected that she may be the precinct captain. She stood in front of the trio, who were all seated along a wall with one arm locked into a clamp on the armrest.
Ramsey was certain that BAMF could break free from hers, if necessary, but it wouldn’t be. They’d be out of here in no time.
“Seriously?” she asked. “You start a fight in an upscale restaurant? Who does that?”
“Colonel Ramsey,” Ramsey said and offered his hand. The woman did not shake it, and he pulled it back. “Any chef that defends such poor cooking deserves to get a few hits to the head.”
“Mmmhmmmm,” the woman said as she nodded.
Ramsey pulled up her public bio on Pegasus Station’s net and saw that she was Lieutenant Sedna; the precinct where they were currently enjoying station security’s hospitality was her domain.
“What is your business on Pegasus Station?” she asked. “Your customs declaration just says ‘Sex, Drugs, and Rock ‘n Roll’.”
Lashes put on her warmest smile. “We’re just helping a friend find her brother. He came here recently, and we’re just looking around to see if we can find him.”
Lieutenant Sedna looked down at Lashes and her expression softened a touch.
“Do you have family? They can be such a pain sometimes, but we all have to do what we can to help them,” Lashes spoke in her most conciliatory voice and reached out to gently stroke the lieutenant’s arm. Running her finger across it as though the officer’s forearm was an instrument she was playing.
“Uhh…Lashes, right? Records do show that you only tried to defend your friend with the sensitive taste buds here,” Sedna said and gestured at Ramsey. “I’m a bit surprised that you didn’t get involved in the fray…Bam?”
“It’s Bam-F,” BAMF replied. “Thought about it. But my eggs were just right. Wanted to finish them.”
“Well, since this is your first time here—and because you have a surprisingly large number of recommendations from small, out-of-the-way stations on your record—I’m going to let you off with a fine. And you’re banned from Chez Maison, of course. It’s a bit surprising, but they’re not pressing charges anyway—which is good, because Chef Burbon never could get scallops right.”
“Thank you very much,” Lashes said with a winning smile.
The lieutenant blinked and their arm restraints released. Ramsey stood and stretched his arms over his head.
“Gah, it’s amazing how fast you can cramp up.”
“Get in another fight and you’ll really find out what cramping up feels like,” Lieutenant Sedna scowled. “If you can’t find your friend, file a missing persons report—don’t go busting up any more restaurants.”
A minute later, they were out of the security station and in a wide corridor.
“That was a big risk, Colonel,” Lashes said. “We could have been booted off the station.”
“Nah,” Ramsey replied. “I figured you’d just lay on some charm and we’d be fine. BAMF, did you plant the bug?”
“Uh huh,” BAMF replied.
“A bug? Raaamsey, why don’t you ever let me in on these plans of yours?” Lashes whined.
Ramsey chuckled. “Because you perform so much better when you think our necks are on the line.”
BUGS AND INTEL
“So…it’s a real bug?” Petra asked when they were all back on the ship reporting on their progress.
“Yeah, real bugs are the best,” Stick said with an emphatic nod. “We tried cats a few times, but people keep picking them up and cuddling them, then feeding them…and well, they just never got the job done once that starts. Can do mice and rats, but people really don’t like them. Bugs are best—so long as they don’t have too many legs—gah!”
“So, this bug will sneak into a system in the security station, extract data on the Ludicrus Star, and then report back somehow? Petra asked.
“That’s the deal,” Ramsey said with a nod. “Places like that have all sorts of defenses against hacks, and data breaches, and nano, but if you can tap right into the data I/O lines, you’re in business. I mean…you have to have the encryption keys, too, but no one ever changes those from the defaults—which we managed to get our hands on awhile back.”
Petra scratched her head. “But how will that help? They would have to access data about my brother for the bug to pick anything up.”
“Remember that patrol boat that boarded us to inspect our antimatter bottle and do all the customs bullshit?” Stick asked.
Petra nodded and Ramsey picked up the explanation, a fresh carrot with an extra leafy stock obscuring half his face. “Those customs officials logged all our idents, so that lieutenant…ah Sedna…back in the security office will look us over, and see that you’re listed as a passenger, not crew. She’ll figure it’s your brother we’re looking for, and then check all the ships that docked recently to see if anyone on them looks like a relative of yours. When she does, we’ll tap the data access and get what we need.”
“What if she doesn’t? Forgive me, but she’s probably a bit sloppy if she let you three go,” Petra said.
“Oh, she will,” Lashes smiled. “We got out because I played her like a fiddle.”
“Lashes will go back in tomorrow to pick up the bug and we’ll be in business,” Ramsey added.
“I will?” Lashes said.
Ramsey nodded. “Yeah, you saw how busy this station is. No way the bug can make it back here—it’ll take a week.”
“Gotta sit back in the same chair,” BAMF said. “That’s where I told the bug to go after it nabbed the data.”
“How am I gonna pull that off?” Lashes asked. “You don’t just get to wander into the detention area in a security station!”
“You’ll think of something,” Ramsey grinned before taking a bite of his carrot.
* * * * *
Lashes stood outside the security station trying to decide what she was going to say to Lieutenant Sedna that would get her back into the detention area. She knew the lieutenant was into girls—she sent all the right signals, but Lashes could also tell
that the woman was high-maintenance. Trying to start up a relationship with her would bog Lashes down the entire time they were on Pegasus station.
She looked down at her outfit—tight blue pants and a loose blouse. It could probably survive a scuffle.
A tall, red-haired man was walking down the corridor, not looking at where he was going. A perfect mark. As he walked past, Lashes pivoted and put herself in his path.
The man, who she had named Red in her mind, crashed into her, and she fell back a step.
“What did you say to me?” she yelled at him.
Red, for his part, looked suitably surprised. “I…I…didn’t say anything,” he stammered. “I’m sorry I bumped into you.”
“Bumped into me? You disparaged my ancestors and then hit me!” Lashes accused.
Red took a step back and raised his hands. “Look, lady, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t want anything to do with you—”
Red’s words were cut short as her fist collided with his face. “That’ll teach you to call my mother a duck-fucking whore!”
The main raised his fists to defend himself against her flurry of blows, showing more surprise than anger at this diminutive woman who appeared to have lost her mind.
“Easy, lady! Easy, you psycho bitch!” he yelled, taking another step back.
Lashes continued her assault until, suddenly, her head snapped back as Red’s fist collided with her face. Another blow struck her in the gut and she fell to her knees. Her head spun and she had trouble focusing.
What…did I pick some sort of boxing champ? she thought to herself.
A moment later, strong hands wrapped around her, pulling her back. Through her hazy vision, she saw two security officers pulling the man away and assumed that must be who gripped her, as well.
“Twice in as many days?” a voice asked from behind her. “Take them both in the back, I’ll sort her out in a few minutes.”
Lashes’ head spun while her arms were pinned behind her back and she was cuffed.
“Eeee started it,” she slurred through her rapidly expanding upper lip.