“I’m on the clock.”
“A pliers for the stick, then?”
“Just a mineral spirits flush, please.”
“Any vintage in particular?”
“Har. May we begin?”
Loritt sighed, then signaled the waiter. “A glass of your lightest paint thinner for my friend.”
“Right away, sir.” The waiter evaporated again. Loritt wasn’t sure how he did it.
Loritt leaned back in his chair in defeat, then waved a hand in Vitle’s direction. “Begin.”
“Thank you. First, my retaining fee is a week overdue.”
Loritt took another swig from his remaining drink. “Yes, it is, and I apologize for that. There was a temporary lapse in the company’s revenue stream due to conditions beyond my control, of which you are only too well aware, as they relate directly to one of the cases you are, presumably, working on for me at this very moment.”
“I mention it as a courtesy,” Vitle said emotionlessly. “It is the firm’s policy that work on accounts more than two weeks out of date are frozen until payment is made.”
“Oh, don’t give me that ‘the firm’ glot. It’s you, a rotating unpaid paralegal intern, and an elderly Lividite secretary answering the links in your office.”
“Yes. They’re my firm.”
Loritt’s jaw tensed. “And a fine firm it is. We’ve just docked two cruise liners on contract worth almost half a billion credits each. Once they’re auctioned off in a month or so, cash flow will not be an issue. So I’m asking you, as a favor, to float me your services until then. Consider it a loan from your firm to mine. You can even charge interest.”
Vitle’s face went blank, which most people would assume meant shock, but Loritt knew meant only that he was computing something.
“Twenty-five percent interest,” the cyborg said after a pause.
“Twenty,” Loritt countered.
“Compounding.”
“Don’t be an ass.”
Vitle’s face went slack for a moment again before, “The terms are acceptable.”
“Good. May we continue?”
“There are two weighty matters we must discuss immediately,” the cyborg started again. Loritt found himself staring at the eyes. They were synthetic, which was common enough. Nelihexu had the advantage over other species in that as they aged, they could always cycle in new organic parts. He was on his third set of eyes himself. All that was lost was another tiny slice of their ever-evolving soul.
Cyborgs felt different, somehow. Jrill had synthetic eyes as part of the standard kit the Turemok military had outfitted her with after basic training. But Loritt could still tell Jrill was a Turemok just by looking at her. So much of Vitle had been replaced with machinery, Loritt had no idea what species the man had started life as. Did he have three legs at birth, or was that a design concession? Somewhere, he’d rolled straight across a line, probably without even recognizing it was even there.
Was it bigotry to think so?
“Mr. Chessel, did you hear me?”
Loritt shook his head clear and refocused on the task at hand. “I apologize again, old friend. There’s been a lot on my mind, and I don’t have that enviable internal filing system of yours.”
Vitle grimaced as if the act of rewinding his monologue was physically discomforting, then began again. “I was saying, the matter of the sex trafficking investigation surrounding the Pay to Prey has attracted significant attention, especially in the local media. There’s really no chance we can avoid a deposition at this point. You’ll have to answer why you didn’t immediately report the matter to station security.”
“Oh, heavens.” Loritt leaned back in his chair as if he’d been physically struck. “Is that what people are saying? No, no, that’s not right at all. As soon as the Prey was tied off and I was briefed by my people of the dreadful situation they’d uncovered on board, I, ever the conscientious citizen, delegated one of them to make a full report to security while we arranged temporary housing for those poor, exploited souls.”
Vitle stared back at him like a jaded student taking notes. “That’s what you’re going with?”
“Of course. It’s the least we could do for them.”
“Right. And so what happened to this ‘report’ you ordered submitted to station security?”
Loritt held his hands open in concession. “Regrettably, with the swell of activity and emotions surrounding the discovery and resettlement of the Prey’s victims, the subordinate assigned to file the report … neglected to. An honest and understandable lapse, given the circumstances. Nevertheless, they have been appropriately and adequately disciplined for the oversight.”
“And the identity of this neglectful employee?”
Loritt clasped his hands. “I’m afraid that’s an internal company matter and, due to confidentiality concerns, isn’t something we’re willing to divulge to the courts at this time.”
“You’re not giving me a whole lot to work with here.”
“Which is why I’m paying you a whole lot to work with it.”
“You promise to pay.”
“A promise costing me 20 percent interest.”
“Compounded.”
“Fine!” Loritt said just a little louder than he intended. He waved at a nearby table, then cleared his throats. “That’s fine, if you can make it work.”
The waiter, sensing a pause in the conversation/confrontation, appeared out of the ether to deliver Vitle’s glass of mineral spirits and Loritt’s salad.
“Are we ready to order, gentlemen?”
“Let us finish this round, Alconz,” Loritt said without breaking eye contact with his lawyer.
“Very good, sir.” Poof, gone.
They both took long swills from their glasses.
Loritt continued. “Really, Prudanse, I don’t know how you drink that stuff.”
“It keeps my joint seals from drying out.”
Loritt raised his glass in toast. “To your seals’ good health, then. Now, what was the second ‘weighty matter’ we need to discuss?”
“The unwitting doormat your newest piece of office sculpture pressed into the floor of their previous apartment.”
“Ah yes,” Loritt swallowed the last remnants of his second drink. “That nasty business.”
“‘Nasty’ doesn’t quite encompass the totality of that episode,” Vitle said. “I reviewed the crime scene holos. I’ve seen industrial waste compactors with more finesse.”
Loritt pressed his palms into the white linen tablecloth. “It’s really very simple, my good chum. A misguided youth broke into the victim’s apartment and—unknowingly, I’m sure—endeavored to leave their gang tags on what turned out to be a Grenic caught in midstep, who naturally toppled over under the sudden imbalance.” He held his hands up to the ceiling in consternation. “It only follows.”
Vitle crossed his arms. “And which Junktion gang’s motto begins with WATCH YOUR BA?”
Loritt shrugged. “I’m sure I wouldn’t know. You’d have to ask around in the underworld, which we both know I have no connections to or familiarity with.”
“Naturally,” the cyborg said flatly. “Lawyer-client-privilege time, Loritt.”
“Oh, we’re at Loritt now?” The Nelihexu perked up in his seat. “This should be fun. It’s been a long time since you called me by my unified name.”
“Only out of respect and confidence. The human girl shacking up with the Grenic? Nobody rooms with a Grenic.”
“First does,” Loritt said, not intending to sound so defensive, but oddly not sorry that he had, either.
“Yes, Firstname Lastname. I’ve read her immigration documents. What’s her real name?”
“That is her real name as far as the Assembly bureaucracy is concerned. Her papers are in order, and that’s good enough for me.”
“Loritt,” Vitle said politely, but with the authority of his profession. “I cannot protect you from lines of attack I’ve not been briefed on
. Rumors about this human girl have swirled enough to reach even my audio receptors. There are still only a handful of them on the station. They defeated the Turemok flat out at their own game only five cycles earlier in a galaxy that has been trapped under Turemok talons for a millennium. They’re virtually celebrities, wherever they are. Their comings and goings don’t go unnoticed or unreported. So I’ll ask again, as your lawyer, who’s the girl?”
“A technical consultant,” Loritt said reflexively. “She’s been advising me on security vulnerabilities. She came highly recommended.”
“Doubtless from the underworld you have no connections to or familiarity with,” Vitle fed Loritt’s words back to him.
“Doubtless.”
Vitle sighed and pushed away from the table, rolling to a stop in the walkway. “Fine, keep your secrets. It’ll cost you extra in the end, billed from me if you’re lucky. From the judge if you’re not. They’re going to want to interview her. There’s nothing I can do to prevent that, so get her prepared. Two weeks is your extension, compounded interest. Oh, and you’re buying my drink.”
“I assumed that as a given, between friends,” Loritt said. “It was my turn, after all.”
“It’s always your turn. Bit of advice: find a hole to throw that girl down for a couple of months until this blows over.” Vitle bowed the bare minimum decorum would permit, then spun around on three heels and rolled out of sight just as the waiter returned.
“Just one for dinner after all, sir?”
“Actually, Alconz, I think I’ll just take the bill.”
“Very good, sir.” As the waiter disappeared again, Loritt swirled the dregs of his second drink.
“Trouble with the little missus?” a voice as familiar as it was unwelcome came from the table behind him. He turned around to confront the interloper.
“Soolie.” Loritt exhaled the name like someone trying not to breathe in a foul odor. “I didn’t see you come in. In fact, I could’ve sworn you were disinvited from the guest list at this establishment.”
“What can I say?” Soolie shrugged. “You don’t have to jump the velvet rope when you can just walk under it. Sounds like you’ve got quite the problem brewing in the ranks. That human girl again. Always seems to come back to her, doesn’t it?”
“Purely coincidence in this case. Some poor fool thought to take a crack at her Grenic roommate and ended up donating blood to the carpet.”
“Hmm, tough to kill, those Grenic. You gotta know the fault lines. Then, they cleave like a gemstone. Anyway, I hope your little human pet holds up under questioning by security. Sure would be a shame if something explosive came out under pressure.”
“Thanks for your concern, Soolie. This place suddenly feels a little claustrophobic for me.” Loritt stood up from his seat and looked down at the mobster. “It’s more your size, I think. Good night.”
Alconz caught Loritt just as he reached the door. “Sir, your bill.”
“Of course. I’m sorry. I’m in a rush. Please put it on my tab and I’ll settle up at the end of the week.” He nodded to Soolie the Fin. “And if that Umulat seated behind my table is still here in a quarter of a larim, have the doorman throw him out on the street by the dewlaps.”
“The front or the back door, sir?”
“One and then the other.”
In moments, Loritt was safely ensconced inside his Proteus, alone with his thoughts. Chief among them was First and why he’d held back on what he knew about her, even to a trusted ally. Then defended her again from a longtime enemy. She’d gotten to him somehow. He felt … protective toward her. Almost paternalistic. Which was insane. He’d known her for less than two standard months. And yet, he knew she would do it for him …
“Hell of a trick,” Loritt said as he pulled out of the parking hangar.
CHAPTER 16
Bruised and running on an empty tank, First was two-thirds of the way to her old apartment when it finally dawned on her that she’d been relocated to new digs before their last job. Between the trip out to the Tekis Nebula, the week spent on the cruise, and the return trip, she hadn’t set foot on Junktion in almost three weeks and fell easily into old habits. She had to look up her new address on her handheld.
She hadn’t even seen it yet. Movers had come to relocate what little in the way of possessions and furniture she and Quarried had out of the old place while she was away. She punched the address into one of the station’s travel pods and sat down heavily as it climbed toward the interior. Artificial light broke through the pod’s bay windows as it reached the inner surface of the station’s drum. First was pleasantly surprised as the pod transitioned to tracks on the “ground” and headed for the same swanky high-rise district as Loritt’s penthouse.
It finally whirred to a stop in front of one of the towers—not Loritt’s building, but First could see it from there. So he meant to keep an eye on her. After the break-in, that was just fine with her.
To her genuine surprise, a doorman met her as she exited the pod. A humanoid with ashen skin and vestigial wings poking out the back of their jacket that made them look remarkably like a gargoyle.
“Ms. Lastname,” they said. “We’ve been expecting you. My name is Fucor. Have you any luggage?”
“Um, yes. A small roller in the back.”
“I’ll have it sent up to your apartment. Your cohabitant has already settled in. I’ll take your bag.”
Fucor reached for the beach bag with her hacking deck slung over First’s shoulder, but she tensed and pulled away. “Sorry, this one stays with me. No offense.”
“None taken.” Their wings fluttered. “We all have our little secrets, eh? Follow me; I’ll show you to your residence. Welcome to your new home. We’re glad to have you.”
First tagged along as they entered the building’s lobby, a soaring atrium six stories tall and clad in hammered copper. Exotic desert plants and shrubs occupied the spaces between the footpaths, while residents of several different flying species played some version of the popular sport of Gisk overhead. It was usually played in zero-g by members of all races, but the fliers apparently had their own version modified for gravity.
A Condrite dove headlong for the falling disk after a missed catch, snagged it with a foot, then effortlessly spun around his own center of gravity and shot the disk toward a teammate before spreading his wings to arrest his dive only a few meters from the floor.
“Wow,” First said as the flier swooped low over their heads before pumping his wings hard to rejoin the scrum.
“Yes, they’re quite aerobatic, aren’t they?” Fucor said of the players, entering a glass elevator. “They organize a pickup game almost every night. We play host to an impressive diversity of species here. Yourself included.”
“Let me guess, I’m your first.”
“Human? No, we’ve accommodated three of your race. Although you are currently our only human inhabitant. Your Grenic roommate, on the other hand, is our first. We found out quickly only our cargo elevator could accommodate them. The floor of your apartment also had to undergo some considerable reinforcement.”
“You’ve seriously never had a Grenic before?” First asked with genuine confusion. “They’re one of the Council races, for crying out loud. They can’t be foreigners here.”
“Not at all,” they said hurriedly. “There is a thriving Grenic community on Junktion. However, we’re a mixed-occupancy tower, and our resident levels don’t begin until the tenth floor. As a race, Grenic typically prefer to remain closer to the ground. Some say it’s a shared cultural superstition. I say it’s more likely an entirely reasonable fear of heights for a species that shares both the weight and reflexes of a boulder.” Fucor paused. “I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but some of the staff has already taken to calling you ‘the Odd Couple.’”
First snorted as the elevator car accelerated past the fliers and their game. “I approve.”
She left Fucor behind at the elevators. He bid her good night and
produced a pair of cards from his coat pocket.
“The keys to your castle, Ms. Lastname,” he said as the elevator doors closed.
Impossibly, her roller bag was already waiting outside her door by the time she found the right apartment number.
“How the hell did you manage that?” First asked no one as she ran her new card through the reader.
The door opened and took First’s breath away. The space beyond was five, maybe six times larger than her old apartment, its ceilings half again as high, and already furnished with a blend of leather chairs for First and reinforced steel platforms for Quarried.
Their 2-D wall display had been superseded by a 3-D holographic projector mounted in the very center of the circular living room, theater-in-the-round style, playing back a trio of Grenic in one of Quarried’s soap operas. The projection was so high-def and opaque, the only giveaway that her home wasn’t full of an actual rubble of Grenic (a group of Grenic was called a rubble, because of course it was) was the barely perceptible shimmer on their outlines that none of the holo-projector manufacturers had ever figured out how to eliminate completely.
First didn’t recognize any of the characters from the backside, so she moved around to the front to greet Quarried and get a look, but as she did, her heart jumped up into her throat.
Far from being remedied, the message engraved across Quarried’s face, for lack of a better term, had not only been finished but refined. Where before the letters had been chiseled in like a message scrawled in a child’s crayon, someone with a steady, unrushed hand had taken great care to straighten and deepen the letters with sharp angles and precise, beveled edges.
WATCH YOUR BACK, it taunted her.
First began to back away, intending to run for help, but a little blinking red light in Quarried’s hand stopped her.
She had mail.
Hand quaking, First took up the recorder and pushed the button.
“Hello, First,” Quarried’s thundering bass voice rolled through the living room like a storm front. “Nice place, huh? How do you like my new tattoo? Figured it makes me look tough, now that I’m going to be a security guard with you. Are you excited? I am. Anyway, I brought you milk and cookies as a housewarming gift. They’re in the kitchen. I hope you like it here as much as I do. And thank you.”
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