Conflagration 1: Burning Suns

by Lisa Wylie

  Keera got up and dressed, noting the creases and stains on her clothes with distaste. She was going to need something else to wear soon if she was staying in human form.

  Jennifer returned bearing two mugs. “It’s not very good,” she apologized, “but there’s caffeine in it.” She took a gulp of her drink as she proffered one mug to Keera. “Sleep well?”

  “Not really. The bunk is comfortable, but I couldn’t settle. Just unfamiliar surroundings, I guess.” She sipped at her coffee, schooling her face to a neutral expression at the rough, artificial taste. Something else she was just going to have to get used to.

  “Yeah. So… about yesterday,” Jennifer said after an awkward pause. “I’m sorry for accusing you. That was a shitty thing for me to do.”

  Keera risked meeting the human’s gaze. “It’s OK. I’m sorry, too. I didn’t mean to push you. It’s difficult for me to let go of making my own decisions. Everything I know was snatched away in a day. This new… life… is going to take a little adjusting to.”

  Jennifer chuckled dryly. “Yeah, I can relate. I felt much the same before you walked into that interview room. I just… I’m told I can be a bit of a bitch when I’m pissed at the universe. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

  Keera offered what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “Well, you haven’t exactly experienced me at my best either. Truce?”

  Jennifer nodded. “Truce. All right, so… what do you want to do first?”

  “At the risk of sounding completely ludicrous, I’d like to go shopping.” Keera gestured to her wrinkled clothing. “If I’m using a human form in public, I’m going to need some different clothes. I have a few changes of underwear, but this everything I’ve got. It doesn’t blend in very well in the street here either.”

  “Yeah.” Jennifer chewed her lip for a moment. “I don’t have very much credit, even counting what Shan gave me—most of that has to be set aside for fuel and docking fees. I can spare maybe a hundred credits, and I know a place in Lowmarket that does some pretty cheap basics.” She hiked her thumb at one of the cargo compartments set into the wall. “There’s some stuff of mine in there you could try. It won’t be your size, though.”

  Keera blushed, embarrassed at her assumption. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realise…”

  “That I’m flat broke?” Jennifer snorted sardonically. “Why the hell else would I be trying to rob high-security museums?”

  “For the challenge?” Keera suggested, trying for humour, and gratified when a smirk tugged at the human’s lips. “Keep the money. If it’s just us aboard I can manage without clothes some of the time anyway.”

  That observation was met with a predictable leer, which Keera declined to dignify with a rebuke as she crossed to the compartment Jennifer had indicated and rummaged through it quickly. The clothes were two sizes too big—Jennifer had six inches on her in height and was considerably more muscular—but she found a hooded sweater she could roll the sleeves on, and a pair of cargoes she could tie short at the ankle. Thanking her foresight in having remembered to shove her running shoes in her bag, Keera headed into the washroom to change.

  “Keera?” Jennifer’s voice sounded over the comm as she was dressing. “Come to the cockpit when you’re ready. I’m just running a few checks. I brought your coffee up.”

  “I’ll be right there, thanks.” Keera knotted her laces, looked herself up and down, and sighed resignedly. It would have to do. Until Jennifer was more comfortable around her, it was better to appear as familiar as possible.

  Jennifer was slouched in the pilot’s seat, gaze flickering over a scrolling screen of data. “I’m checking the new nav updates we got from Traffic,” she explained. “Their encryption’s sometimes a little shaky, and people have been known to hack the data.”

  “Why would they do that?”

  “To make ships disappear. One digit out, here and there, and suddenly you’re millions of klicks off course and staring at a Reaver squadron.”

  “How delightful,” Keera observed with a shudder.

  “Yep. Welcome to Asgard. So,” Jennifer sat up straighter, turning her chair slightly, “let’s get down to some planning.”

  “Right. This Orden Snake-Eyes,” Keera began, reaching for her coffee. “What’s he like?”

  “He’s an arrogant little bugger. Vain, flamboyant, loves the high life, has a harem of girls he rotates through. Always on the lookout for fresh meat, too.”

  “Sounds like a real charmer.”

  “He can be,” Jennifer conceded. “I mean, he’s striking to look at, he’s smart, he’s witty….”

  “He’s rich.”

  “Right. That always helps.”

  “So he’s a big fish around here?”

  “He certainly likes to think so. For sure he’s one of the bigger independents on Hel.”

  “And we want to shake him down for information.” Keera settled back, taking a thoughtful sip from her mug. “Is he easy to approach?”

  “Unfortunately not.” Jennifer frowned. “Since I failed to complete his contract it’s unlikely that he’ll want anything to do with me right now.”

  “And you don’t know where he lives?”

  “I do, but again, I won’t get in if he’s not interested. And he won’t talk business if I manage to corner him in public.”

  “So we need to find another way into his apartment. If we do rough him up a little, are we going to attract any unwanted attention?”

  Jennifer thought for a moment. “No, I don’t think so. There’s no police force here, and he’s not affiliated with any of the cartels. He has a goon squad who run errands for him, but they’re real meatheads, only good for following orders. What d’you have in mind?”

  “I take it you’re fine with losing him as a source of employment? He sounds like the kind of man who’d hold a grudge.”

  “Yeah.” Jennifer sighed. “It can’t be helped, I suppose. No way you could just hack his files? Shan just sent your credentials through, by the way.”

  “Oh, that’s great, but no I can’t hack his communications. Not without more information than his nickname and his sexual appetites.” Keera frowned. “I’d need at least a contact address.”

  “I don’t have one. He contacts me, not the other way around, and he reroutes his comms through an encrypted dead-drop. He’s pretty paranoid.”

  “In which case, sniffing around his network trying to pick up the information will just tip him off. And if we can’t do subtle, element of surprise is the next best strategy.” She spread her hands. “I can’t get the information from him without implicating you, since it relates to the job you were doing. I’m sorry. I can handle it on my own if you prefer, but I can’t isolate you completely.”

  “You can handle it on your own?” Jennifer queried sceptically. “You’ve been on Hel for less than twenty-four hours, you don’t know anything about him other than his nickname and some gossip, and you’re just going to waltz into his apartment by yourself and scare the info out of him?”

  Keera shrugged. “I do need a few more details, but yes, more or less,” she agreed.

  Jennifer stared at her until she felt her cheeks heating with embarrassment. “Are you really that good?” the human asked eventually, doubt clear in her expression.

  Keera nodded firmly. “I am,” she assured her new boss. “But I appreciate why that might be a lot to take on faith. So why not tag along?”

  Jennifer cocked her head to one side. “All right,” she decided. “This I have to see. You look so damn harmless I have a hard time imagining you terrorizing anyone.”

  Keera smiled wryly. “You’re forgetting something.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Looks can be deceiving.”

  ***

  Here we go.

  Keera took a deep breath and stepped through the door of the club and into the pulsating crowd. Vertigo, one of Midmarket’s better establishments, was a favoured haunt of Orden’s and most of his wo
uld-be girlfriends could apparently be found on the dancefloor, alert for any opportunity to move up in the world.

  Keera had gone through Jennifer’s spare clothes, and then her current ones, picking out some items that she thought would suit. Then, she’d caught a shuttle down to the main orbital transfer depot for Highmarket. She’d loitered around the station until she’d spotted a target she liked the look of, a woman of roughly Jennifer’s height and build but with colouring similar to Keera’s current skin. She needed to make the most of the resources she had to hand.

  Tripping the woman up had been the work of seconds, obtaining a DNA sample just as quick. Keera hated using blood, but the ring-mounted hypodermic needle was quick and painless, and by far the safest option in a busy public place. Acquisition accomplished, she’d caught the public transit to Midmarket and found a washroom in a busy fast-food restaurant where she could carry out her transition without anyone disturbing her.

  Dressed in her borrowed skin-tight maroon pants, knee-high black boots, maroon halter top and black leather jacket, make-up painstakingly applied to give her new face darkly hooded eyes and angles and definition it didn’t really possess, Keera had sauntered out of the restaurant with as arrogant a swagger as she could muster. She’d made her way to the club, dropping her bag at the coat check after pocketing one precious vial of sedative. Now, as she headed toward the bar, she let the half-dark and her disguise give her self-assurance. She was going to need every ounce of bravado she had to pull this off. Seduction had never been her strongest suit. You’re playing a role, Kee. Embrace it. You’re trained for this. It’s all about confidence.

  The thought buoyed her spirits a little. This was work. She was good at this. And she had to prove that to her new employer. In this moment, she didn’t need to worry about her situation, the conspiracy, or any of the bigger picture concerns. All she needed to do was acquire her mark.

  Reaching the bar, she snapped her fingers to attract the bartender’s attention. “Vodka rocks,” she ordered brusquely.

  “Hey, I was here first!” a small, pugnacious neomorph objected. Keera looked him up and down slowly, then shrugged.

  “Congratulations,” she drawled, deliberately turning her back to indicate her disdain. The barkeep choked back a snigger, and tipped her a nod.

  “Vodka rocks, comin’ right up,” he said. Setting the iced glass before her, he poured the clear spirit with a flourish. “Ain’t seen you in here before,” he remarked. “I’d remember.”

  “No doubt. I’m new in town,” Keera replied with the same careless drawl. “Looking to make an impression.” She raised her glass in a salute, then knocked back about half of it. A little liquid courage to help things along—her high tolerance for alcohol would keep her clear-headed enough if she didn’t overdo things.

  “Congratulations,” a familiar voice chipped in. “You’ve succeeded.” Jennifer insinuated herself into the gap between the neomorph and Keera, shunting the disgruntled snake even further down the bar’s pecking order. “Put the lady’s drink on my tab, Marco,” she continued, flashing Keera a grin that was nothing short of devilish.

  Keera inclined her head. “Generous of you,” she commented.

  “My pleasure,” Jennifer replied. “Jennifer Bronwen, freelancer.”

  “Kate Nelson. The same.”

  “Welcome to Hel.” Jennifer offered a hand. “Care to dance?”

  “You don’t mess around, do you?” Keera replied, giving Jennifer the same slow once over she’d given the neomorph and following it up with a lick of her lips and a smile.

  “Never saw the point in being unclear about my objectives,” Jennifer shrugged.

  “And I admire a woman who knows what she wants. All right, Jennifer. A dance it is.”

  Jennifer led her onto the floor and took hold of her hips. “You look incredible,” she murmured. “I gotta say, your taste in women is top of the line. And I wouldn’t have recognized you if you weren’t wearing my clothes.”

  “That’s kind of the point.” Keera looked up briefly as Jennifer spun her around, taking in the faces in the crowd. “Unless I’m very badly mistaken, Orden’s actually here, and he’s watching you.”

  As they swung around and changed places, Jennifer nodded. “Yeah, that’s him. But it’s not me he’s watching.”

  Keera glanced up again, and sure enough, Orden’s gaze was fixed on her. “You reckon he’s interested?”

  “Oh, he’s definitely interested. And as a bonus, taking you away from me will make him feel all kinds of powerful.”

  “You really think he’d try that?”

  “Are you kidding? Reminding me that I’m in the doghouse for fucking up? Proving that he’s better than me at charming women? He won’t be able to help himself.”

  “Change of plan, then. I was going to try and borrow a skin from one of his girls, but this is actually better.” Jennifer spun her around again, and this time, she caught the naked look of appetite in the hybrid’s eyes. “Yes, I think you’re right.” Victory would make him overconfident, and then, hopefully, careless.

  “Don’t sound so surprised.”

  “Sorry. I’ll try to get him to take me home. If I manage, wait five minutes, then follow us. I’ll restrain him then let you in.” She palmed her coat-check tag into Jennifer’s hand. “Pick my gear up, will you? There are some useful gadgets in the bag.”

  “All right,” Jennifer agreed. “Are you armed?”

  “No. I don’t need to be,” Keera assured her.

  “Well… just be careful, OK? Those are my favourite pants.”

  Keera rolled her eyes. “Jennifer?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Get your hand off my ass.”

  Jennifer’s eyes widened, and she jerked back just in time for the slap Keera aimed at her to mostly miss. Turning on her heel, she stalked back to the bar. “Hey, Marco? Did I mention I wanted to make an impression on the right people?” she declaimed loudly, raising her empty glass for a refill.

  Marco chuckled as he came back with the bottle. “I’ll keep you on Captain Bronwen’s tab,” he grinned, “since she hasn’t told me to take you off it.”

  “No need,” a new voice interjected. “I’d be delighted to entertain the lady.”

  Keera turned slowly and met Orden’s cool, reptilian gaze with a coy smile. “Now that’s the most interesting offer I’ve heard so far on this rock.” She gave Orden her hand. “Kate Nelson.”

  “Orden Snake-Eyes, at your service.”

  “Charmed.” Keera took a sip from her fresh drink. “So tell me, Orden. Are you what passes for civilised company round here?”

  “I’m a rose among the weeds, Kate,” Orden proclaimed. “A rose among the weeds.”

  The plan progressed perfectly. So keen was Orden to put Jennifer in her place that he made his move before they’d even got through two drinks, and Keera found herself being solicitously escorted to a cab and thence to an immaculately appointed penthouse in an exclusive residential suburb of Highmarket. Within ten minutes of unlocking his front door, Orden was insensible on his living room floor, courtesy of the sedative Keera had slipped into his drink.

  Jennifer arrived promptly, breaking into laughter as she spied the unconscious crime boss on the carpet. “I’ll be damned,” she chuckled. “I wouldn’t have believed it.”

  “Here, give me a hand with him,” Keera instructed.

  Together they sat Orden in a chair from his kitchen. Taking her bag from Jen, Keera retrieved two sets of disposable restraints and snapped them around Orden’s wrists and ankles, securing him. “We’re ready,” she judged. “He’ll come round in a minute or two. Stand in front of him and keep his attention.”

  “Right,” Jennifer acknowledged. She looked around admiringly. “Nice pad. Did you have one like this?”

  Keera sighed as a pang of longing spiked in her chest. “Yes. Mine had a nicer view, though.”

  Orden groaned, forestalling any further idle chat. Jennifer bent an
d pinched his cheeks to bring him round fully. “Hi, Orden,” she greeted him cheerfully. “Having a fun evening? I see you couldn’t resist the bait.”

  “Captain Jennifer,” Orden spluttered. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

  “Solving a mystery,” Jennifer replied. “See, that little job you asked me to do went bad. Now, if I’d fucked it up on my own, that would be something I could live with, but someone fucked it up on my behalf and got a good friend of mine killed. So what I want to know is who was responsible for ordering one of my crew to fuck me over, so I can carve retribution for my buddy’s life out of their goddamn hide.”

  “I had nothing to do with your operation,” Orden growled. “Or your incompetence.”

  “Oh, I don’t think it was you,” she assured him, “since you’d have no reason to want me to fail—you were getting one and a half million credits from the job. So I need to look a little further up the chain. Who was your client, Orden? That’s all I need from you.”

  “Fuck that, and fuck you,” Orden spat.

  “Aw, c’mon, Orden, be reasonable. If you won’t tell me who your backer is, I’ll have to assume you’re taking full responsibility.” She drew a wickedly sharp combat knife from her boot. “I’m sure you get my point.”

  “You won’t kill me,” Orden declared with a snort. “I know you, Bronwen—you’re not the casual murderer type. This isn’t anything other than a colossal bluff. One that will cost you dear when I get loose.”

  “Yeah, you’re right,” Jennifer said chirpily. “Casual killing isn’t really my speed. And I like you, I always have, but my associate here doesn’t know you and is a lot less tender-hearted.”

  Keera took the cue, stepping silently up behind the captive half-breed and catching him round the throat. “Hello again, Orden,” she hissed in his ear as she tightened her grip, feeling his pulse throb against her fingers.

  “Who the fuck are you?” he wheezed.

  “No one that need concern you. Now, this doesn’t have to be traumatic,” she continued cordially. “If you answer the Captain’s question, there’s no reason for anything… unpleasant… to happen. All we want is a name and a location.”