by James Hanlon
“You say that to all the girls?” Montez asked, cracking a grin.
“Nice. Real nice. Kinda just looks like more space rock to me.”
“Kinda the point?” Montez said.
“So what, it’s invisible?”
Montez chewed her lip. “I don’t know. It’s new, I haven’t used this one yet. Kasim said it would be hard to see. Wrinkly little bastard’s always playing games with us.”
She brought them closer, with the nose of the ship pointed toward the crater. Their display lenses showed them a friendly green outline in a circle where it indicated Littlefoot should move through. Montez disabled her display. All she saw was dark, still dust under the ship’s floodlights. She exchanged glances with Crane.
“Maybe somebody tagged the wrong one,” Crane suggested.
“This has to be it,” she said, re-enabling the display.
It showed a ghostly green Littlefoot accelerate forward into the center of the glowing circle, through the asteroid’s surface, which seemed to slide past the ship. The ghost slowed, stopped, and then vanished after it demonstrated the gate’s doors shutting. For a moment Montez watched it repeat with dopey confusion. But then it clicked—she understood how they did it, and with an astonished laugh she guided Littlefoot forward.
“What are you doing?” Crane said with an edge of panic.
Montez cackled at his bewilderment. “Only one way to find out!”
“This is not okay! This is not okay!”
Crane scrambled over his chair to their lockers and yanked his suit out as they approached impact with the crater. He smacked himself in the face with his helmet as he struggled to get it on. Montez howled with laughter, and they puffed through the thick layer of asteroid dust that hid the gate’s opening. A gravity field parted the covering like a curtain for them as they moved into the hidden entrance and molded it back to its original state after they’d gone through. The gate doors slid shut, the field deactivated, and the thick black dust settled like a fresh grave.
***
Montez howled with laughter as Littlefoot parked itself inside the hangar, nearly in hysterics as she wiped tears from her eyes. “Just the look on your face, man! I’ll send you the vid later. I’m showing Kasim. This is classic, man.”
Crane struggled past the cryo pod in Littlefoot’s airlock with a bloody wad of gauze clamped over his nose. “Oh yeah, you’re very funny, Montez. You can stop giggling like a damn child now. I think it’s broken.”
Crane stomped down the stairs to the hangar floor. Montez continued snickering to herself, watching from behind the bulky cryo pod as Crane hurried off to medical. Time to bring their haul to Kasim. Big sucker—she’d need a couple of floaters for sure. Littlefoot’s grav tethers could help her move the pod out onto the hangar floor, but she’d need some portable assistance to get any farther. She slid past the pod into the hangar bay, securing Littlefoot’s airlock door behind her.
As she walked down the ramp she noticed three HomeSec troops in armored black nullsuits marching her way, each with a beam rifle slung over a shoulder. When she reached the ground she retracted Littlefoot’s ramp. The armors got close enough that she recognized the badge on the one in the lead.
“Something wrong, Finch?” she called. “I didn’t ask for HomeSec.”
“Lieutenant Finch,” he corrected her through his suit’s speakers. “We’re here to take your cargo. You’ll be compensated.”
“I’m being compensated to take my cargo to Kasim,” she said.
Finch towered over her in his glossy black armor, forcing her to look straight up at him or take a step back. She stood her ground and glared.
“This is over your head,” Finch said with a smile as he reached past her for the ramp controls. He motioned for his subordinates to enter the ship. “Cover it up first.”
Chapter 1: Providence
Bee walked through the automatic sliding doors of the Midtown Hotel like she had somewhere to be. A man behind the front desk eyeballed her as she headed for the dining area. Bee smiled at him and waved as any guest of the hotel might. He returned her friendly greeting and went back to his work. She reminded herself she still probably looked plenty clean after sneaking into the showers at a gym last week.
Act like you belong and you’ll belong, just like Janey used to say.
Bee grinned as she headed for the dining room. Free breakfast. What would she do without free breakfast? A wave of hunger washed over her and she speed walked over to the buffet table. Bee grabbed a plate and loaded it with heaping portions of everything in reach. There wasn’t room on her plate for packets of wildberry jam so she stuffed some in her pockets, plopped down at the nearest table, and began to devour her meal.
Bacon, rolls, mixed fruit, spice sausage—she nearly cried at the flavors. Everything was probably just reconstituted goop from fabricators, but that didn’t stop it from tasting incredible. Bee was so focused on shoving food into her face she didn’t notice the hotel employee hovering next to her table until he cleared his throat.
“Young miss?”
Bee swallowed a mouthful of bacon and looked up at him. “Me?”
The employee was an older man, heavyset, dressed in the hotel’s magenta uniform and flat-topped hat. From the size of his gut he’d be easy to outrun if she had to. Bee scooted her chair back from the table a bit to give herself room to stand. If he tried to grab her she knew where to hit him for a quick escape.
The man smiled at her, his cheeks rolling up in thick dimples. “Would you like some juice or water?”
Bee looked down at the table—she’d forgotten a drink. “Oh. Um, yes.”
“Which would you like?”
“What? Oh. Juice I guess?”
The man nodded and dashed off to get it for her. Bee considered slipping out while his back was turned, but couldn’t bring herself to leave a hot meal behind. She decided to just keep playing along like she was a guest and slid her chair forward again, intent on getting to the bottom of her plate. They seemed to be buying it. And she wouldn’t have a problem outrunning the fat waiter, that was for sure.
Find him, Mother whispered in her head.
Mother always spoke up when Bee did something she didn’t like. Something that might get in the way of things. Bee ignored her. After pulling the same trick for weeks, skipping all over the city to different places so they never learned her face, Bee felt confident in her chances. She wouldn’t get caught. Besides, the waiter was giving her the executive treatment—how could she say no to that? It made her almost feel normal, like the rest of Overlook City.
“Here you are, miss,” the man said as he returned with her juice.
“Thank you,” she said around a bite of roll.
“You must be hungry.”
“It’s okay if I get seconds, right?”
He chuckled. “It’s good, eh? Have as much as you can eat—the leftovers just get tossed into the recycler. In fact, I might have to get some myself. May I sit with you? I can bring you back another helping of what you’ve got.”
“Uh—sure,” Bee blurted, unable to come up with an excuse.
“Wonderful,” he said. “My name is Hargrove, by the way.”
Great, now he wanted to sit and chat. Mother was right—she should have run. Bee tried to tell her legs to move, but they wouldn’t budge and before she could make a decision Hargrove came back with two loaded buffet plates. Quick for his size. She’d have to be careful if he found her out.
Hargrove set their plates down as he took his seat. “Nothing like a good breakfast to start your day, eh?”
Find him, Mother insisted.
Bee darted her eyes to the exit. Hargrove noticed.
“It’s okay, kid, I’ll be out of your way in a minute,” he said, waving a strip of bacon in the air. “It won’t take me long to finish this little snack, I promise you that.”
Muscles taut, ready to bolt, Bee weighed her options.
“No thanks,” she said.
“Wait,” he said, “Miss, are you alright?”
She ran through the dining room doors into the lobby.
“Miss, wait,” Hargrove called as he hurried after her.
She’d nearly made it to the hotel’s entrance when a man entering from the street noticed her. The doors slid open in front of the newcomer but he stopped just outside, eyes locked on Bee. He spread his arms and blocked her path.
Bee’s heart raced. Trapped. Stupid, stupid, stupid. She could hear Hargrove getting closer and closer to her. No chance against two. She sprinted forward, faked left, and lunged to the right past the guy blocking the door. He hooked her with one arm around her stomach, knocking the wind out of her, and lifted her whole body in the air before slamming her to the ground. The back of her head smacked hard on the floor with a jarring thump and Bee gasped for air.
For a moment instinct took over and Bee fumbled for the knife at her hip, but then she saw the badge fastened to the man’s belt. A cold brick dropped into her stomach when she read the words Overlook City Police. She gave up. The taste of bile crept into the back of her throat as she fought against sudden nausea. Caught again.
“Get off me, I didn’t do anything,” she said.
“Right, of course you didn’t,” he said as he waved Hargrove over. “What’s your name, kid?”
“Bee,” she mumbled.
“Full name.”
Bee glared and kept a stubborn silence.
“Identify,” he said.
Bee knew the command meant he’d called up her profile on his display lenses so he could see her public record. Every police officer she’d met—and most citizens who could afford it—wore contact lenses which displayed information only the user could see. She’d never used them herself, but she’d seen enough of the commercials to figure out how they worked.
He snorted. “Buttercup? You serious? That’s your name?”
She opened her mouth to say something snarky, but knew there was no point. Game over. She’d probably end up in some foster home again, get put back in school. Why couldn’t they just leave her alone? Mother would get angry if Bee didn’t keep looking. And she couldn’t stop looking until she found him. Dread clawed at her throat. Or maybe it was more vomit.
“Stop right there!” Hargrove shouted.
To Bee’s surprise, the officer let go of her.
“Slow down, I got her,” he said to Hargrove. “Officer Brinkley, Overlook City Police.”
“Oh, you’re proud of yourself, are you?”
“Whoa whoa whoa, I said slow down.” Officer Brinkley pointed a finger at Hargrove. “You see what this badge says? Listen to me—”
Guests gathered near the hotel doors to watch the scene unfold.
“No, you listen, sir!” Hargrove said, loud enough to draw stares from the other side of the street. “I am the manager of this establishment! I was only trying to get the poor girl’s attention and you’ve gone and knocked her around. My stars, just look at her. She’s just a child and you’ve smashed her head into the floor. She could have a concussion!”
“Please. I’m just doing my job.” The officer gave an annoyed shake of his head as he turned to address the onlookers. “Don’t block the walkways, please. Everyone keep moving.”
Bee leaned against the wall outside, rubbing the back of her head trying to make it look like it hurt a lot. Which it did, sort of. She didn’t understand why the guy—Hargrove?—was getting so upset; she’d been knocked around worse before. But she wasn’t about to try and calm the angry giant when he seemed to be on her side. She almost laughed when she noticed the color of his face nearly matched his magenta uniform from all the yelling.
“Well, come on,” Officer Brinkley said. “I mean, look at her. Street kid if I’ve ever seen one. You don’t try to run unless you did something. She was probably stealing, right, or—”
Bee brought her hand out from behind her head and groaned, her palm wet with a patch of deep red, strands of long blonde hair sticking to it. Several people from the gathering crowd gasped. The officer’s jaw dropped so far it nearly unhinged.
Hargrove stepped between them. “I think you’ve done quite enough here, Officer Brinkley! I’ll be speaking with your lieutenant.” The big man looked at one of the nearby guests. “Excuse me, you in the green there. Call an ambulance, please.”
Hargrove scooped Bee into his arms and whisked her away back into the hotel as an angry crowd gathered around the officer. Brinkley shouted a command while hastily backing off and a police cruiser swooped down from a nearby rooftop, its parking sirens dispersing the group of citizens while it settled on the ground. Brinkley pushed through to the cruiser, ducked inside, and it lifted off the moment he went in.
“You’ll be alright,” Hargrove said as he carried Bee into his office. He set her on his desk and opened a cabinet on the wall filled with medical supplies. “I’ll get you some help, don’t worry.”
Bee laughed. “It’s okay, I’m fine. I don’t need an ambulance.”
Hargrove turned around and Bee flashed him a devious grin. She showed him the two crushed packets of wildberry jam she’d pocketed before breakfast. Hargrove let out an astonished belly laugh.
“That’s pretty smart!” he said. “Let me see just in case.”
“No, it’s fine,” Bee insisted, but didn’t stop him from examining the back of her head. His fingers parted her hair in the back and he probed her skull for any cuts or bumps. He was closer to her than she liked, but she didn’t feel threatened at all. His cologne smelled like trees and spices.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Bee.”
“And how old are you, Miss Bee?”
“Fourteen.”
“So is your name short for something?”
“Yeah, but I don’t like it,” Bee said.
Hargrove let out a soft laugh. “Don’t be silly. What’s not to like?”
“Well my real name’s Buttercup, but everyone makes fun of it.”
“Buttercup—a beautiful name. And not one I’ve heard before. Were you named for something?”
His touch was gentler than Bee expected. She was reminded of Mother and pulled away, suddenly uncomfortable.
“All good?” she asked.
“Well, aside from the jam you smeared all over your head.” Hargrove curled his lip as he inspected his oily, jam-covered fingers. “How long has it been since you bathed, kid? Your hair’s all… greasy.”
Bee reddened. “Well…”
“You got family?”
Her silence was answer enough.
“A safe place to stay?”
She shook her head.
“You want a room?” Hargrove asked.
“What?”
“A room,” he repeated.
“Here?”
“Yes.”
“For me?”
“That’s the idea,” he said with an amused smile.
She looked away. “I can’t pay.”
Hargrove laughed. “Well of course not. I’m not asking for money. Business lately has been… regretfully slow, so we have some extra space. As long as you can keep after yourself and don’t cause any trouble for my staff or customers we have a deal. For the time being. No more than two weeks.”
“Your staff?” she asked. “This is your hotel?”
“Well I’m only the manager, I don’t own it—but yes, I run the place. So what do you say?”
Hargrove stuck a huge hand out with comical exaggeration, his fingers still smeared with sticky red jam. Bee laughed, grasped it as best she could with her own jammy hand, and shook with a squelch.
“Wonderful,” he said, but did not let go. “Now, if
you’re going to stay free of charge I can’t have you making extra work for the staff. You don’t keep up your end of the bargain, or you cause trouble for me, the deal’s off and you’re out tomorrow. You get one chance. One. Agreed?”
Bee nodded, only half-believing him.
“Wonderful,” he said again and released his grip. “First things first, let’s find you a room so you can get cleaned up.”
Bee followed him to an elevator. While they waited for it to arrive Hargrove began mumbling to himself, nodding his head, squinting, and blinking rapidly. He seemed to be looking at something she couldn’t see. He must have been wearing display lenses too.
She’d learned to pick out the people who wore them while trawling the streets for easy marks. People distracted by the overlay from the lenses often paid less attention to their surroundings, so Bee would trail shoppers on their way home and wait for an opportunity to lighten their load.
When the elevator chimed its arrival Hargrove ushered her inside. After going up a few floors the doors opened again and they stepped into a hallway. They walked to the last room on the left and Hargrove pointed to a yellow eye symbol next to the door with a tiny lens in the center.
“Bio locks,” he said. “Look at the eye for me and say register.”
Bee looked at the eye, said the word, and a green light winked on above the handle.
“There, the room is yours. Just look at the eye when you need inside, say ‘unlock,’ and it’ll unlock the door for a few seconds.” Hargrove opened the door for her and inspected the room from the doorway. “Not much to look at, but consider it yours until I say otherwise.”
Bee stood just beyond Hargrove’s reach and felt for the reassuring touch of the sheathed two-inch knife she kept clipped inside her waistband. It was Janey’s once.
While Hargrove looked over the room Bee tugged her shirt up and let it fall between the knife’s hilt and her hip. He didn’t seem the type, but she wasn’t about to get stupid. Not after everything. She hurried inside, keeping the knife hidden under her arm.
“I’ll come back in an hour to show you around. Don’t make a mess,” he called as he shut the door behind her.