by M. D. Cooper
Williams responded.
Williams laughed,
FRAMED
STELLAR DATE: 3227469 / 05.29.4124 (Adjusted Gregorian)
LOCATION: The Mango Mule, Highspin, Cruithne
REGION: InnerSol, Sol Space Federation
Katelyn was glad Rory had pinged Cruithne’s pubnet regarding the Highspin district before they’d left the Damus. This section of the station was decidedly upscale; a wardrobe miscue would have earned them attention they could ill afford.
Rory had suggested they would blend in better if they used an autotaxi to get to Highspin, and Katelyn had readily agreed. Their plans were simple: rendezvous with their contact, grab the data, and get back to the Damus.
She’d already put in an order for the food and fuel they’d need to make it to Venus, so the most expensive part of their stop on Cruithne had been dealt with. She—or rather, Casey Blevins—had even received a notification that the delivery had arrived. The food stores had been dropped off just outside their airlock, and the umbilical sealed by the Port Authority so that no dock rat could steal from them.
Knowing this allowed Katelyn to relax and focus on the handoff about to take place.
The autotaxi turned down a street their brother Seraph would have labeled ‘Restaurant Row’. Down both sides of the street, as far as the unaugmented eye could see, were eating establishments. If their names were any indication, Katelyn suspected Highspin offered just about every possible kind of ethnic fare there was.
Katelyn looked back at the façade of the bar they were about to enter, realizing that it looked like it had been shaped from a bowed piece of hammered copper. Its name was emblazoned down a curved metal rod she abruptly realized was intended to represent a handle of some sort.
An AR token appeared on her HUD, tagged with the bar’s name. Triggering it caused an augmented reality overlay to appear that explained the origin of the bar’s name. It described an ancient mixed drink, traditionally served in a copper mug.
Her sister just shrugged and walked through the entrance.
“Hello, and welcome to the Mango Mule.” The greeting came from an honest-to-stars human who smiled and waved them inside. “Are you here for drinks? Or would you like to look at the menu?”
“Actually, we’re here to meet a friend,” Katelyn said. “Okay if we sit at the bar while we wait?”
The hostess smiled and waved them on through. Rory wove a path through a small maze of tables where patrons were seated, sipping colorful concoctions. Katelyn followed, sliding onto a barstool that seemed made of real wood.
The bartender, an AI in a humanoid frame, looked up from where he was mixing a few drinks. He gave a two-fingered salute as Rory took the stool to her left, setting her bag down on the floor beside her.
“Be right with you,” he said, and Katelyn waved him off.
“No rush. We’re waiting on someone anyway.”
She swiveled her stool, her eyes sweeping across the clientele as she played a mental game of guessing who their contact might be.
Katelyn grimaced.
Katelyn shot her sister a pained look.
The bartender materialized in front of them, a smile on his face. “Welcome to the Mango Mule,” he said. “I’m Aaron.”
In the next moment, Katelyn saw a ping show up on her overlay, indicating the AI had just queried their IDs. She lifted an eyebrow.
“Really?” she drawled. “I would have thought Cruithne would be the last place someone would card a person before serving them.”
Aaron laughed. “Oh, no one cares about whether or not you’re a minor, although it’s obvious neither of you are,” he added with a bit or a leer that had Katelyn snorting in amusement. “I was checking to see if this was your first time here. Since it is, I have good news, ladies. Your first Mango Mule is on the house.”
He slid two copper mugs in front of her and Rory with a little flourish, and gave them a wink. “First hit’s free, as they say.”
Rory snickered, and Katelyn shook her head as the AI turned and reached for a cloth to wipe the bar down. As he did, his hand knocked Rory’s drink over the edge of the bar, its contents spilling into the bag she’d set at her feet.
“Stars! I’m so sorry!” Aaron’s voice sounded aghast as Rory gave a little shriek and jerked back. He held up the offending hand, his expression apologetic. “Faulty actuator in this frame. I’ve been meaning to get it fixed. Hang on, I’ll have you dried off in a jiff.”
The AI righted the mug, and with quick, efficient moves, used a nanofiber cloth to wick away the remains of the beverage that had pooled atop the bar. He snagged a small stack of the cloths from the counter behind him and stepped around to where she and Rory sat.
“Did any of it get on you?” Aaron asked anxiously. “That mango juice is pretty sticky stuff. Ginger beer, too.”
Rory ran her hands down her skirt once more to confirm, then shook her head. Her smile turned a bit strained as she looked down at her bag. “I’m good. Not so sure about my bag, though.”
The AI stooped to pick up the bag, and then paused. He shot her a questioning look. “With your permission, I’d be happy to clean it up. I have a sink behind the bar that might make it a bit easier. Anything of value in here that you’d like to take out first?”
Rory smiled at the bartender’s anxious expression. “No state secrets,” she said, her tone light. “I’d mainly brought it along in case I saw something I wanted to buy—or to carry my jacket, if I got tired of wearing it. Right now, the only thing in there’s a hairbrush and some lip gloss.”
She sighed as Aaron lifted the dripping bag, cupping a few nanocloths under it.
“A sticky hairbrush,” she amended with a rueful shake of her head.
“Not for long,” the AI said, flashing her a smile as he returned to his position behind the bar. He shot Rory a measuring look, turned, and reached for a wineglass and a bottle of white.
Filling it, he set it before Rory with a small flourish. “You look like a white wine kind of girl,” he said with a wink. “On the house, as an apology for the drink I so carelessly dumped all over you.”
Rory shot her a repressive glance, but her mental snicker had Katelyn’s mouth twitching.
Katelyn responded with a mental shrug. She heard running water as the AI bent to the cleanup, his hands—
and Rory’s bag—obscured by the bar. While Aaron was occupied, she took the opportunity to conduct another visual scan of the bar’s patrons.
She knew her mental tone sounded discouraged and frustrated, but they were a good half hour past their rendezvous time, and no one had shown.
Katelyn suppressed the urge to roll her eyes at Rory.
Their mental exchange was cut short by Aaron presenting Rory with her newly cleaned and dried bag. Katelyn reached for her mule to take her first sip, but froze when her hand wrapped around the mug’s handle, triggering a nano messenger.
[Finish your drink and exit the bar. Turn upspin and walk along the street as if you were sightseeing. Your contact will meet you.]
The message scrolled along the top of her HUD, repeating twice before fading away.
Carefully, she lifted her mug and took a sip, swiveling on her stool as she did so. There was no one on her right side, and she didn’t recall anyone walking past or approaching near enough to have planted it.
Who placed that there? It must have been when I was watching Aaron gather up Rory’s soaked purse….
She studied her own reflection in the mirror hanging behind the bar, shifting her gaze to the patrons seated behind her. One table had recently vacated; had her contact been with them? The thought that someone had come that close without her awareness was an unsettling feeling, but she shrugged it off and glanced over at Rory.
Katelyn thanked Aaron for the drinks and stood to leave.
“But I thought you were meeting someone here,” the bartender protested, his eyes sliding away from Katelyn to rest on Rory. He seemed dismayed at the thought of her leaving.
“Miscommunication,” Katelyn said shortly as she tugged on Rory’s arm. “Thanks again for the drinks. We’ll try to stop by later, if we get a chance.”
The AI straightened with a smile. “I’ll hold you to that,” he said. “I’ll be here all evening.”
With a vague smile of her own and a little wave of her hand, Katelyn hustled Rory to the exit.
Katelyn caught the direction of her glance.
She studied the pedestrians ahead of them, both coming and going. Most strolled casually along in pairs or small groups, while a few individuals walked with purpose, as if late for an appointment.
One snagged her attention. Whipcord lean, the woman gave the outward appearance of being completely relaxed as she headed toward them, but her eyes were never still. And when they moved over Katelyn, in that brief instant when eye contact was made, she felt a shiver course through her.
She heard the tension ratcheting in Rory’s tone as, from the corner of her eye, she saw the two CPD officers—a woman and a man—cross the street and begin walking in their direction.
Rory retorted.
Katelyn’s heart sank as she saw their contact melt into the crowd just as one of the officers pinged her for her ID. She caught one last glimpse of the lean stranger ducking into a restaurant two doors ahead of them before the female CPD officer put her hand up, calling out for them to halt.
Gesturing to Rory’s bag, the cop asked, “Miss Blevins? Mind if we inspect that?”
A surprised expression crossed Rory’s face, and she shot Katelyn a befuddled look. Equally perplexed, Katelyn responded with a shrug.
“Sure, go right ahead,” Rory replied, handing the bag over to the officer.
She indicated Rory should hold onto it, while her partner motioned them over next to the building and out of the flow of pedestrian traffic. A blinking red light appeared on the shoulder boards of the female officer’s uniform, indicating the interaction was being recorded.
“For the record, do you give us permission to search your bag?” she repeated the request, and Rory exchanged another bewildered glance with Katelyn.
“Sure,” she said. “There’s nothing in there but a hairbrush and some lip gloss.”
Once more, she unslung the bag from her shoulder and offered it to the officer. This time, the woman took it and peered inside.
Looking up, she exchanged a meaningful glance with her partner, then tilted the bag so he could see its contents.
Reaching in, he pulled out a package neither Katelyn nor Rory had ever seen before.
Rory gasped, and Katelyn could feel her jaw drop.
What the…! That looks like some kind of drug!
“Cruithne has open carry laws, ladies,” the male officer informed them. “And while partaking of stamen in your apartment, private club, or even hotel room is perfectly legal, carrying a few kilos of synthetic briki around in public is strictly against the law.”
“I don’t even know what that is—” Rory began at the same time Katelyn’s protest bubbled up.
“That’s not ours!”
Rory exchanged a frantic glance with Katelyn. “It was that bartender. It had to be! He must have slipped it into my bag when he—”
The woman sighed, cutting Rory off. She exchanged a jaded glance with her partner as she removed a pair of magcuffs from her belt. Her partner nodded, stepping toward an automated police cruiser that pulled abreast of their location and rolled to a stop by the curb.
“I’m afraid you’re going to have to come with us,” she informed them as she pulled Katelyn’s hands behind her back and affixed the magcuffs.
Her partner had opened the vehicle’s door and returned to subdue Rory before helping to escort them to the vehicle.
Anger and frustration warred for prominence in Katelyn as the officer placed one hand on Rory’s head and the other between her shoulder blades to guide her inside the squad car’s dark environs.
You have got to be freaking kidding me. Why is this happening— now, of all times? Our contact was right there….
Glancing around at the impervious crowd, Katelyn spied the lean stranger observing their detainment from the shadowed entrance of the restaurant. Dissatisfaction thinned the angular woman’s lips, and she turned and walked away.
Katelyn jerked as the female officer gripped her arm, indicating she should join her sister. Just before the door slammed shut in her face, the officer leant forward, the blinking red eye of the camera aimed unerringly at both her and Rory.
“Lauralee Blevins, you and your sister Casey are under arrest for possession of a controlled substance.”
THE VENGEANCE PLAY
STELLAR DATE: 3227467 / 05.27.4124 (Adjusted Gregorian)
LOCATION: MicroWare Industries, Raleigh, High Terra
REGION: InnerSol, Sol Space Federation
Admiral Urdon allowed Peter to maintain his distance. It wasn’t because he gave a damn about the man’s fear—a fear that was coming off him in palpable waves. He thought it amusing that Peter found a measure of safety in a meager few meters, plus the two chairs and coffee table that separated them.
<
br /> If the man knew the truth, Urdon suspected he might shit his pants.
The admiral withheld his identity for the simple expedient that what Peter didn’t know, he couldn’t share. Urdon wanted nothing to tie this operation back to the Scattered Worlds. Those within the Terran Hegemony would speculate, of that he had no doubt. But the evidence would be circumstantial at best.
Peter’s reaction to Urdon’s mention of his ex-wife was gratifying.
A dozen years ago, industry analysts had pegged Peter as the man being groomed to helm IntelliCore Systems. At the time, IntelliCore was rapidly gaining ground as the leader in NSAI development. The company itself had risen from the ashes of an organization that had gambled on picotech—and lost—a few decades earlier.
The loss was a particularly spectacular one, when its experiment lost containment and killed millions.
That company had folded, but the brilliant minds who had conceived of pico had recently quietly reemerged under the name of IntelliCore. The scientists and engineers had hidden their involvement as best they could, bringing on people like Peter to represent the company to the public.
Given the previous company’s history, the owners made it mandatory that men like Peter have sterling, rock-solid reputations.
Peter’s former wife, then-Lieutenant Colonel Tanis Richards, had put paid to that last requirement. Her actions at Toro cost Peter the presidency at IntelliCore, despite the man having divested himself of the woman faster than a comet shedding ice in the ionosphere.
It made for a major career setback. Urdon could sympathize; the woman had blocked his progress more than once.
When Urdon asked after Tanis, Peter’s eyes flared, his face flushed in anger as caution fled. Rising from his seat, he demanded, “What the hell gives you the right to come into my office and—”
“Because she did something similar to me,” Urdon cut him off yet again. “By now, she’s in stasis. Untouchable.”
To most. He added the mental qualifier before continuing.
“Let’s be honest. Richards was just one woman. The Toro operation was carried out by TSF Marines. Specifically, the 242’s Bravo Company.” He paused as Peter sank back into his chair.