by R S Penney
Covering her mouth with one hand, Anna felt her cheeks heat up. She closed her eyes and let out a sigh. “It's a lovely planet,” she admitted. “But this isn't exactly the place to go to advance your career.”
“Then what are you doing here, Anna Lenai?”
She had to stifle the urge to sigh again.
What indeed?
Jack splashed water over his face.
He looked up to study his glistening reflection in the bathroom mirror, tiny droplets falling from his chin. “Well, I'm in it now, Spock,” he muttered. “Every major player is gonna be watching me like a hawk.”
Jack winced, shaking his head. “Not to mention Slade,” he said, hunching over and grabbing the sink with both hands. “If we don't produce results, he's gonna nail me to the wall right after he's finished with Jena.”
The big orange cat sat at his feet with front paws pressed to the floor, head tilted in that inquisitive expression every single feline knew by instinct. “You might want to say something encouraging,” Jack prompted.
Spock just sat there.
Squeezing his eyes shut, Jack massaged his brow with the tips of his fingers. “Yeah, that's what I thought,” he muttered. “Conversation's overrated anyway.”
The white tiled bathroom was glistening with moisture from his recent shower, a light fog on the mirror nearly masking his reflection. Wiping away the fog with a towel, Jack studied himself. When had he become so good at frowning? Thanks to Summer, he wouldn't have to worry about wrinkles, but still…
His multi-tool beeped.
The gauntlet sat on the white countertop, a tiny LED on the metal disk blinking to get his attention. “Answer call, audio only,” Jack barked. Given the early hour, it was probably Jena calling to give him bad news. “Hello?”
“Is this Jack Hunter?”
“Of the Northumberland Hunters, yes,” he answered. “Third in line to inherit the estate if my dearest papa doesn't squander the family fortune on some defunct Canadian railway company or bad jack-o-lantern stock.”
“I see,” the voice replied. From what he could tell, the speaker was female, and she had mastered the art of the sexy phone voice. “So if I identify your pop culture reference, will you consider meeting me for a night out? I'm Marie Williams.”
Jack tilted his head back, blinking at the ceiling. “Lauren's friend,” he said, nodding to himself. “She told me that you might be calling. Sure, I'd be happy to meet you if you can pass your challenge.”
“Downton Abbey and the Simpsons.”
He noticed a smile on his foggy reflection and a noticeable red tint to his cheeks. Any woman who could keep up with obscure pop culture was worth the effort it took to get to know her. Lauren had a good eye. “When were you thinking?”
“Friday?” she offered. “Prismatic?”
“A club.”
“Yeah. You game?”
The urge to hesitate was hard to resist, but he somehow managed to push past it. Everyone said dating would be good for him. “Yeah, sure,” he said. “I figure it's good to try new things.”
Like waterboarding.
“Great,” she said. “See you then.”
A hundred people moved about on the dance floor, swaying in time to the music while fluorescent lights painted them in shades of pink and blue. The noise was fierce, and a steady beat of some techno-pop song was beginning to annoy him. Jack had always preferred rock music. Clubs weren't his scene.
The fact that Marie wanted to come here for their first date filled him with a sense of foreboding. At this point, backing out would only piss off his sister, but he had a hard time imagining good conversation in this noisy bar.
Jack leaned over the railing with his arms folded, dressed in blue jeans and his brown coat. Cheer up, Hunter, a small voice whispered. If nothing else, it's a night out. Lord knows you need one.
He sensed her approaching.
A glance over his shoulder revealed a woman in black pants and a denim jacket. Her round face was lovely – with large eyes and a dark complexion – and she wore her black hair tied up in a ponytail. “Jack?”
Biting his lower lip, Jack squinted at her. “You must be Marie!” he yelled over the music. “Lauren told me you two used to go clubbing every Friday night! Was this one of your favourite spots?”
Marie stepped up to the railing, folding her hands on its surface. She paused for a moment to look down at the crowd below. “It's all right, I guess!” she answered. “I think I have you at a bit of a disadvantage. See, I've seen you a few times on the news. Which means I knew I was getting a hot guy.”
Jack stared up at the ceiling with a smooth expression, his eyebrows slowly rising. “I guess you do have me at a disadvantage!” he shouted. “But if we're playing quid pro quo, I don't mind saying that I'm not disappointed.”
A sly smile bloomed on Marie's face, one that would have been imperceptible if not for the convenient splash of pink light from a swiveling lamp. “Glad to hear it!” she said. “So do you wanna dance?”
“Shouldn't we talk a bit first?”
“Over all this noise?”
He had no answer to that; so he chose instead to turn back to the railing and study the crowd below. Hundreds of people shuffled about, most of the guys looking like total asses. Or maybe that was just his opinion.
Nevertheless, there was no power in Heaven or Hell that could convince him to go down there. Well, he supposed he would if his date really wanted to – he didn't want to be rude – but he would prefer to get to know her. As if she sensed his thoughts, Marie asked, “You don't really like clubs, do you?”
He winced, trembling as he took a deep breath. “Not so much!” he said. “Don't get me wrong; I'm glad we're doing something other than the typical dinner date, but I want to get to know you.”
Marie pulled him closer.
Her smiling face filled his vision, and he found himself transfixed by the way her eyes sparkled. “Listen, Jack,” she said over the music. “I like you, and maybe there could be something serious between us, but tonight I just want to have fun.”
She seized his face in both hands, and the next thing he knew, she was kissing him. After everything he'd been through lately, 'having fun' sounded like a brilliant idea, and he couldn't deny that a small part of him wanted to just give in and see where the night took him. But Jack wasn't inclined toward casual relationships.
So he danced with her – badly, but then she was the one who insisted on it – and he flirted with her. He drank cranberry juice when she ordered a daiquiri, and Summer was grateful for his restraint. When he prodded his Nassai for a reaction, he received nothing in return. Apparently Summer had no opinion on all this.
The hours passed, and before he knew it, it was time to go home. Jack suggested that they walk since she didn't live far from here. Besides, it was a nice night, and there wouldn't be many more before winter set in.
Jack walked along with his hands in his pockets, smiling down at himself. “Well, what could I do?” he asked with a shrug. “The guy is standing there with a gun pointed at my face, completely oblivious. So I say, 'Excuse me, sir. Your fly is open.' ”
Marie was at his side with her arms folded, shaking her head as she trembled with laughter. “That makes me feel a little better,” she said. “It's nice to know that not every moment of your job is epic.”
She stopped in front of an apartment complex.
Tall and imposing with balconies on its front wall, the building rose up to caress the overcast sky. So this was the end of their date. The levity that he'd been feeling just a few moments earlier faded away, and he suddenly wondered what exactly would be expected of him. He'd only been on one real date before, and that had ended with the woman in question falling asleep in his arms.
Marie forced a smile, bowing her head to him. A slight flush in her cheeks told him that she was feeling equally nervous. “So this is my place…” she murmured. “Would you like to come upstairs? For coffee?”
“Oh…Okay.”
Marie turned on her heel, making her way to the front entrance and pausing there to fiddle with her keys. “Thank you for a lovely evening,” she said before pulling the door open and stepping inside.
Somehow, Jack knew that he'd screwed up yet another romantic prospect.
Chapter 9
The single point of light in the shuttle's canopy window split apart into a million little stars and a single planet that seemed to grow from out of nowhere. From this angle, he approached the planet's night side with only a crescent of blue ocean showing.
Agent Ben Lorani sat in the pilot's chair, dressed in black pants and a matching sweater. His dark hair was parted in the middle and hung to the nape of his neck. “Palisa Air Traffic control,” he said into the radio.
Pressing his lips together, Ben looked up through the window. “This is Leyrian Intelligence Service shuttle 2031,” he said. “Requesting clearance to land at the Belorinak Air Field. Please confirm.”
“Confirmed, 2031,” a man replied. “State your business.”
Ben closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He bowed his head, then covered his face with one hand. “Classified business,” he grumbled. “Security Clearance Vaden-sin tel aknor.”
A long pause was his only answer.
The planet was growing steadily larger in his window, and he could make out the lights of cities on its eastern continent. Palisa was a small colony on the very fringe of Leyrian space. Not much happened here, but its close proximity to the Antauran border made it a hot spot for certain black market deals.
Though he hadn't been permitted to share this information with Jack, some of the force-field generators that they had recovered from Petrov's warehouse were actually of Antauran design. He'd requisitioned a shuttle to follow up on a hunch.
“You may land, 2031.”
“Thanks,” Ben muttered. “You've been the very soul of kindness.” He executed the landing sequence, guiding the shuttle toward a city on the western shoreline. Passing into the atmosphere came with a few bumps, but he used the ship's artificial gravity generator to slow his descent.
Five minutes later, he was flying over grassy planes beneath the night sky with the skyscrapers of Belotano glowing in the distance. A strip of red beacons led him to the landing field where he set the craft down.
Once he powered down the shuttle's life-support systems, he felt the planet's natural gravity assert itself. Palisa was ever so slightly smaller than Leyria, and its gravitational field was only ninety-five percent of what was considered standard. It was a very small difference, but it would take some getting used to.
He exited the shuttle.
Descending the steps with a grunt, Ben shook his head. “Six days just to fly out here,” he muttered under his breath. “You damn well better be guilty, Tyron. I'd hate to have wasted my time.”
A group of three men approached him from the edge of the airfield, all dressed in black. Their leader was a tall man with pale skin and black hair that he wore cut short. “I will have to ask your name,” he said as he approached.
Stepping up to Ben with arms crossed, he frowned and shook his head. “And once again,” he added. “I'll have to ask you to state your business. We can't just let foreigners come and go as they please.”
Ben looked up to study the man, then squinted. “Are we unfamiliar with the term 'classified?' ” he asked. “I'm here on official business for the Leyrian Intelligence Service, and that is all you need to know.”
Baring his teeth, the man let out a breath and slowly shook his head. “Sir, I'm only going to say this one more time,” he began. “State your business, or I'm going to have my people take you into custody.”
Something wasn't right here. Colony worlds weren't always on the best of terms with the Leyrian government, but they would never deny entry to an official intelligence operative. Why the hostility?
Ben lifted his right forearm.
With a few taps at his multi-tool, he conjured the holographic image of his LIS ID card. Through a screen of glowing blue light, he watched the other man blink at him. “I am Agent Tanaben Loranai,” he said. “I'm here to meet with one of my contacts. Now, do you want to step aside? Or should I put you on report?”
“Right this way, sir.”
“Thank you,” Ben said. “I'll need transport into the city.”
A fifteen-minute ride by subway took him to a residential area on the far side of the city, and he emerged to find himself on a street lined with skyscrapers and tall ash trees along the curb. The road was noticeably empty. Well…noticeable to him. When he had first arrived on Earth, he had marveled at the number of cars.
Leyrian cities were designed for easy access to public transit. They were circular in shape with transit lines along radial arteries. People still used automobiles, of course, but they usually only did so when they wanted to reach a remote location. And they seldom drove the cars themselves. Most automobiles were able to function without human input.
He arrived at a small box-like building with a domed roof and large stained-glass windows along its second level. This had once been a church of the Holy Companion, but Tyron had acquired the property and renovated it into a night club.
He had half expected to see a line of people waiting for admission – the entrance was actually in the back of the building – but there was no one outside. The evening was drawing to a close in any event.
Ben pressed his lips together, then lowered his eyes to the ground. “So, let's see if my hunch pays off,” he said, starting forward. “Tyron, if you've taken up selling weapons once again…”
A walkway alongside the building was shaded by trees packed so closely together their leaves would block a strong rainfall. Lights along the building's sidewall provided enough illumination to let him avoid tripping.
In the back, he found a set of wooden doors left open to allow warm air into the building. The hologram of a tall woman with a no-nonsense expression stood with her arms crossed, watching him.
Ben approached.
Lifting her chin, the hologram scowled at him as if he had actually offended her. “This club is for members only,” she said in clipped tones. “I'm afraid I will have to ask you to leave.”
“I'm a friend of Tyron's.”
The hologram flickered, winking out of existence for an instant before solidifying again. “Facial recognition software does not indicate a match,” she replied. “Biometric identification does not list you as a member.”
Ben started forward.
Holograms were not solid – they were nothing more than projected light – and the woman vanished as he passed right through her. Getting through the door, however, was not so easy.
As he approached the threshold, a force-field emerged, blocking his view of the club's interior with flurries of tiny white sparks. Touching it would not be pleasant. “This club is for members only,” the hologram repeated.
Ben closed his eyes, hanging his head in frustration. He touched fingertips to his forehead and let out a groan. “All right, let's do it the hard way,” he muttered. “Don't say I didn't try to be reasonable.”
He thrust a fist out, pointing his multi-tool at the ground in front of the door. With a few quick taps, the tool spat a glob of tiny nanobots onto the step. He backed away to get out of range. “Activate E-M pulse.”
There was a flash of light on the club's top step, and the force-field winked out of existence, its emitters exploding with a stream of hot sparks. As the smoke cleared, he found himself staring into a small foyer that led to the club's main room. The hologram was also gone.
He stepped inside.
If their fiction was any indication, most Earthers pictured seedy bars and dingy old warehouses when they imagined the nerve centre of a criminal organizati
on. That could certainly be the case, but just as often smugglers conducted their business from penthouse apartments and country clubs.
The foyer of Tyron's club was nothing spectacular, but the main room…Small tables surrounded a rectangular dance floor with a marble pillar in every corner. On the far side of the room, a set of stairs led up to a balcony where stained-glass windows looked out on the street.
Tyron stood at the head of those stairs with his back turned, his hands shoved into the pockets of a red jacket that fell almost to his knees. From this angle, Ben could only see the man's curly dark hair. “Hello, Tanaben.”
Ben felt his cheeks grow warm. He closed his eyes and hung his head. “How'd you know it was me?” he asked. “Five years is a long time, Tyron. I thought you might have forgotten your old friend.”
“Who else could have disabled my security?”
The man turned around to stand before Ben with hands clasped behind his back. His pale face had acquired a few wrinkles, but his eyes were as sharp as ever. “You have upgraded your multi-tool to produce weaponized nanobots,” he said. “Mods like that are illegal. You would have had to rewrite the tool's firmware.”
“You know me,” Ben said. “I like to tinker.”
He noticed a small woman who had approached the edge of the balcony. She was a dark-haired beauty with fair skin and a small tattoo over her left eye. Knowing Tyron, she would be his muscle.
Another man stood on Tyron's left, dressed in a pinstriped suit with a high-collared jacket. With his firm jawline, tanned skin and spiky hair, Ben might have been tempted to strike up a conversation with this guy. You know…if he wasn't aware of the fact that this man worked for a criminal.
Tyron stood at the head of the stairs with one hand on the railing, glaring down at him. “Given your skill,” he said, “you could have simply hacked my bouncer software. There was no need to damage my property.”
Ben crossed his arms, approaching the stairs with his head down. “I could have,” he said with a nod. “But that would have taken at least five minutes, and I want this meeting over with.”