by Lyn Brittan
He was out in three minutes.
“Come up with a plan?”
“No, but I don’t stink as much. Hmm, no smile this time?”
“No. I’m still almost unemployed and almost about to be killed by your father. So unless you have come up with something, I don’t see much cause for celebration.”
“One, you’re cute when you’re pissed. Two, I did think up a rather fantastic plan, thank you very much. Quite simple actually, we buy it back.”
“How is that a plan? It’s the offer he made you in the first place.”
“What have you got? Actually, how much have you got? Really?”
Anja shrugged. “Six thousand credits more or less.”
“So, not a secret heiress then.”
“Maybe if you treated this a little more seriously we’d get somewhere.“
“Look, OSA doesn’t take lightly its officers indebted to criminals, alright? Bad enough my father’s one of the biggest. I tried to take down Crost, he beat me at my own game and I’m not proud of it. Forgive me for shooting for a little levity.”
She had the grace to look contrite.
Kinda.
“The only way to get that much money in a couple of weeks, is to steal it.”
“I’m an officer.”
“Do you want to stay one? Wait, when he said weeks, was he specific? You OSA guys use Earth measurements, but Meash is world specific and if he’s using Saturnalian times...” her voice drifted off while she drew invisible numbers in the air.
“I’ve got half that,” he said, cutting her off. “Less, even. Six, Earth days. Okay, so perhaps I was a bit hasty. It’s not technically stealing if we take it from criminals, is it?”
“Shouldn’t think so,” Anja answered, arms crossed.
“More like a community service, wouldn’t you say? Just my luck. The first time you truly smile is with mention of criminal action.” He reached around her for the pack, pulling out his omnitablet and scrolling through OSA files.
“Looking for victims?”
“Criminals in need of correction,” he said, with a wagging finger. “For instance, this guy.”
When Anja leaned over to look, her dark brown hair cascaded across his arm. The image of her hair draped over other parts of his body did things to him that required a bit of discreet shifting. He cleared his throat and enlarged the image.
“Prio Grantly Jr.,” she read. “Looks posh. What did he do?”
“He owns a gambling hall in the 38th Quadrant known for racing cloned horses.”
“That’s not illegal.”
“Not unless you stole the DNA from a rare breed Earth dealer with certain genetic sequencing copyrights.”
“Is that civil or criminal?”
He turned to her and flipped his hands upwards. “Bad guy has money. We need money. Problem solved. Let’s go and follow my lead.”
They kept their voices just high enough that the attendant should hear them arguing over which establishment to choose from. Outside though, they used the darkness of the fading light and hung close to the shadows. He guided her back the way they came, though opting for parallel streets whenever possible.
He’d use his badge if he needed to, but out here and at this time of night, it could do a hellva lot more harm than good.
Anja’s grip tightened as the shadows lengthened and her body brushed closer and closer to his with every step. He didn’t mind, but hated that something could make the little thing tremble.
“What the hell are you doing on Titan, anyway,” he asked and not only to keep her mind off things. “If you’re so good my father would hire you, then you should be on Mars or Venus. Businesses pay good money for mechanics. That would be good, legal, credits. Legal, being the word of the day.”
“Money’s better here. I’ve spent enough time with a Meash company to know I don’t want anything to do with another corporation. I like being able to talk to the guy who pays me.”
“Because my Dad’s so approachable.”
“Well, no, but I like this life. I’m out here under my own control. It’s good for me. I’ll make some fast money with Attila and pewwww,” she let out a whoosh of air like an uplifting rocket, thrusters and all. Hmm, so crime and independence animated her. What else?
“So you make your money and then, what?”
“Open a garage, serving shuttles, launchers, you name it.”
Retzi clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “So you want to become the evil corporation you despise? Terrible.”
“No, no, no. My place is small, strictly civilian and just me.”
“Sounds boring.”
Something crossed her face and he felt like absolute shit. Her back stiffened and she started to pull away, but he held firm and rounded another corner. “I can be boring too. It’s tough being this beautiful. Sometimes I stare and stare at the mirror—”
“You finished?”
“No. By the way, I think we’re being followed,” he said against her ear. “When I give you the signal, pull out your blaster and aim to your left. I’ll take the right.”
The rigidity in her back slackened. Not at all what he expected. Most people’s bodies did the exact opposite with the threat of battle. “I’ll be damned, you’re not the least bit scared, are you?”
“Terrified,” she whispered back. “But I was an expert at hand to hand in the Meash security training module and I still practice with plasma and laser weaponry. Though, only when I feel myself inching towards becoming boring.”
He gave her another squeeze. “Now you have jokes. Listen, we’ll give him an opportunity to pass. If he takes it, fine. If not, well...one...two...”
Three went unspoken, unless her gasp at being lifted from the ground counted. In a single, unbroken action, he’d pushed her against a building, wrapped one of her legs around his waist and reached for his sidearm with the free hand. He threw her a wink before pressing his lips against her half opened mouth.
Sweeter than he expected. Softer too.
He’d kept his eyes open though, and despite the obvious and rather pointed attention she demanded, Retzi didn’t miss the form inching closer.
“To the right,” she said against his lips.
“And the left,” he whispered against hers. “Three?”
“Three.”
They broke apart to slam together once again, only this time back to back. He had no idea what she saw, but the guy in front of him grimaced and withdrew a plasma gun from his inside his tunic. Retzi didn’t give him a chance to fire it.
He pivoted to back her up, but she’d already reholstered her weapon, a cloned half-man at her feet. Impressive, but he’d have to tell her later. For now he took her hand and ran for the hopper, still several lengths away.
“Watch my back.” Retzi placed his face against the eye scanner, until the small shuttle hummed to life and opened its door.
He sent her in first, head swiveling back in forth. “Get her ready?”
“On it.”
After a few mumbles about ‘government issued crap,’ she called him and they headed up to the relative safety of the upper mesosphere and west to the 38th Quadrant.
Her stomach was growling ten minutes into the trip. He shot her an apologetic look. “I meant for us to eat on our way out. I have some calorietabs in that compartment over there,” he said, pointing.
She scrunched her nose and shook her head, though she took a few and dropped them into her pack. “For just in case. You don’t mind, do you?”
“Nope.”
Anja didn’t have to move for any of this. Every time she turned, her arm brushed against his. “At least I don’t have to worry about you trying anything in here.”
“I don’t know. I’m pretty flexible. That was good work back there.”
“Told you I could shoot.”
“That too. Nothing for me? That was some of my best work.”
Anja head tilted to the side. “So, so.”
“I meant the kissing,”
he said, not bothering to keep the grin off his face.
“That too.”
“Ouch. We’ll have to keep practicing then.” He typed in one of the back up call signs, something OSA recently allowed for officers who’d put in enough time. When not on official duty, the hopper’s registration number could be cloaked for personal use. Each time it had to be explained and if he made it through this, he was sure he’d come up with a good one.
They fell into a comfortable silence after that, switching piloting shifts at half clock turns. His sleep was interrupted every few minutes, but he reviewed maps and schematics to occupy his time. Before landing, he convinced Anja to have at least half of a calorie tab. “Just in case we need to run again,” he said, popping one of the dried blocks into his mouth. He swallowed repeatedly to get the scratchy square pass, but would have killed for a glass of water.
Anja gagged from the piloting chair unable to keep hers down at all, grapping a biowaste bag at the last possible moment. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be. This is my fault. All of it. But before I ask you to commit several major crimes, I intend to at least feed you. Bring us down while I find you a more suitable weapon.”
“What’s wrong the one I have,” she asked, in a raspy voice.
“You need to ditch the lasers. If it’s their rainweek in the 38th, it’ll be foggy in the morning. Lasers are basically intense light. The fog’s thick enough up here to deflect that light, or worse.”
“Worse?” Her voice still sounded like grinding gears.
“Light reflects in fog, if it’s dense enough.” He slid over the backup plasma gun. “Fire trumps light every time. If we’re going to be felonious fiends, we should at least be clever about it.”
“I really don’t want to be without it.”
“Trust me on this. I’m an officer, I know these sorts of things. Looks like we’re here.”
She gave them a landing as soft and easy as if she’d been piloting the thing for years. More talents his father had seen? Shame. She was too good for that life. Present activities excluded.
They docked, paid and headed straight into town. A head held high took them far in the previous sector, but wouldn’t pay the price of anyone’s entry in the 38th Quadrant. This was one of the first cities built by the terraforming Meash Three, the Meash agency specializing in urban entertainment.
The well to dos were out in force and a brown tunic and mechanic’s jumpsuit did nothing for blending in. Even if it weren’t the hot season, he’d have expected to find expanses of human flesh barely covered. The 38th thrived on titillation. The scents of food long made illegal, the gambling dens and prostitutes so beautiful and talented that they made years long contracts all contributed to this quadrant’s well earned reputation. It was the lunar hideaway for the wealthy of Titan who had too much money and too little sense.
Anja tugged on his arm. “Is that man naked?”
He yanked down her finger. “Don’t point and, no, there’s a string there. Somewhere.”
“That’s so sad.”
“Sad? He’ll make more in a month than we will in a year. At least me, anyway.” She nibbled the inside of her lip before becoming fascinated with the tops of her shoes. Had she done this? The thought of her under a man for pay brought with it an unexpected rage. And a sorrow. He was a modern man and understood the way of the worlds just fine, but not her? “If he chooses this life-”
“You can never know for sure. People don’t do that because they have a choice. Not usually. It starts with a problem that needs fixing. Or a bill that has to be paid. People always say that it’s different on this place or that and maybe he’s happy. But not all of them are. It’s all an act. They aren’t paid to be miserable. Heads up.”
By now they’d caught the attention of the man. He gave them a one over and sneered, laying his full eyes on a couple dripping in the glittering sashes of red and gold that passed for tunics in the 38th Quadrant.
“Keep an eye out for a store.”
“Just one? There’s another one every two steps.”
“True, but we need one with the most obnoxious things we can find.”
Her snort brought a smile to his lips, but it was her gasp a few moments later, that told him they’d found the perfect row of shops.
Getting inside one proved a far more difficult trick. Two doors locked as they approached the threshold. The proprietor of the third merely laughed and presented his back. It’d taken a lot of pulling to keep Anja from giving him her concerns on the matter, but by the fourth place, they’d slipped in before any gates or twirling lights kicked them out.
“If you’ll be so kind as to take your filthy, poverty stricken selves back the way you came, I won’t be forced to call for assistance.”
“Before you say anything else, we were attacked. These were the only clothes we could find and I can’t tell the authorities as her husband might have questions on the matter of our acquaintance. We need clothes. Something befitting us, but not-”
“Boring,” Anja finished without a look in his direction.
It worked. The man nodded and waved his measuring wand around the outline of her body. He called out the numbers to someone in his headset and moved on to Retzi. Once again, the wand danced about in the air. This time, however, it was accompanied by ‘harrumphs’ of acknowledgement around certain parts of his anatomy. His set of numbers prompted two red faced ladies to pop out of a concealed door before disappearing once more.
“Can you believe it’s all hers and she isn’t sure she wants it anymore?”
“I’m used to something a little bigger,” Anja said separating her fingers and raising an eyebrow.
The man looked from Anja to him and back to her. “Well, there’s a shuttle down the street,” he said, before entering the now half-concealed door.
“You can stop looking so proud of yourself.”
“I can’t actually, no.”
“You are unbelievable,” she said hands on her hips.
“That’s what he just said.”
She burst with laughter at that, the reaction he’d been hoping to see. Second to her begging to see the goods herself, obviously. But really, anything was better than the look he’d seen on her face earlier in the day. He hadn’t been able to shake it. He’d been wanting to kill every man and woman who’d touched her with money in hand.
Touched her at all.
The sashaying shopkeeper returned, wares in hand. The ‘something sensible’ he’d asked for was a set of green tunic bottoms and an open tunic, both lined with gold and blue rings. “How does it close and where do I try this on?”
The man only laughed before turning to Anja. With her garment still over his shoulder, he grabbed hold of her jumpsuit with each side in hand and ripped it open.
“She never needs to be in this horrid thing again. And woman, do stop sneering before your hurt your face. Hurry up, first one leg then the other, unless you need a diagram.”
Her body glowed splotchy, red patches of embarrassment. He didn’t know why, she was perfect. An ass that deserved a good slapping, a waist perfect for holding on too, breasts full and bouncing and eyes...eyes...promising a drawn out, painful and inventive death. He whirled around so fast that he knocked against a display table sending jewels and hair sticks in every direction. He couldn’t turn around though, he could still feel her eyes boring a hole into the back of his head.
“Leave it you lout. I don’t want you touching my things. Hurry and change.”
He admitted to a small amount of disappointment that there hadn’t been gasps and faints as he stripped. But when he turned around to see what the holdup was, he had a few gasps of his own.
“Get her one in every color.” It sounded like his voice though he hadn’t remembered saying it. Her ‘something sensible’ was a floor length shift, belted tight around the waist, with a deep cut down the middle. How it managed to cover her breasts...he didn’t believe in magic, but he was looking at the proof of it.
Nothing should have kept it there, a slight breeze and it was all over.
The fabric didn’t hide much to begin with. It was blue, lined with green rings, but nearly transparent, her areolas darkening blue to black.
“Are you finished staring? There’s no place to hide a weapon in this.”
He shook his head and then turned back to the owner. “I meant what I said, more colors. Two. Go.” The man clapped and pivoted on his heels, leaving them alone for the moment.
“You are spectacular.”
“This thing doesn’t close. It’s only the belt holding it together and did you see the price? All of that for a string of fabric.”
“It’s worth it.”
She blushed, smoothed out the garment and rotated her hips, sending the bottom of it twirling around her heels. “Maybe.”
“And what about me,” he said, doing his turn and bow. “You missed a good show over there.”
“I’m pretty sure there’s still a live feed.”
“A compliment? I’m buying everything this bastard has.” He pulled her towards a full length mirror holding on to her as tight as her belt.
“You flow into one another,” the man said behind them. And Retzi agreed. They did look good together.
“If Father kills us, it might be worth it by the end.”
“I don’t plan on that happening.” She paused to flap the hem of her garment with a flicking wrist. “But, if it does, I intend on dying in this.”
They paid and had their packages sent to the docks waiting for them under a false registration number they’d used upon landing. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed her gathering her hair impossibly high, and with the help of the two giggling shop girls, stuffing the hand sized plasma gun into the center of her coif with the aid of a million, glittering hair pins.
“We look too good to keep this to ourselves. Can I entice you with a meal?”
Her stomached grumbled a response before her mouth could and they followed their noses to a posh establishment, billed as serving only the best of the 38th Q.
After a stomach torturing long wait, a bare chested and short skirted hostess led them to a table near the front of the house. Terrible seats, but it put them near the loud mouthed nouveau-riche.