by S. H. Jucha
“That will depend on the proposal we craft,” Candace replied.
“His intel is that good?” Sam inquired.
“I think we could learn from him, if we’re willing to suborn or tempt a huge number of individuals,” Candace replied.
Sam’s face screwed up in disgust.
“Just saying,” Candace commented, by way of apology.
“Whatever we decide to propose, it must entice Fystal,” Sam said.
“Fystal has the largest transport company,” Candace mused. “If we make the proposal larger than one or two of the others can handle, it’s sure to get back to him. He’ll probably haunt Torque every night to catch sight of me.”
“Speaking of catching sight of you, I think we need to communicate to Myseth that we wish a shift in style,” Sam suggested.
“I’m scared to think of what she might design,” Candace remarked. “Should I call now?”
“Probably,” Sam replied.
Candace used her ear comm to connect to Myseth’s establishment, and she left a request for an early morning meeting. Then she yawned and retired for the evening. Before she fell asleep, she heard Sam’s grunting from the salon. He couldn’t sleep until he had some exercise, and he used the salon’s furniture as weights.
* * * * *
A Myseth dresser contacted the Pyreans’ establishment and requested to be notified when the humans had finished morning meal. When she was notified of that moment, she relayed the message to Myseth, who gathered Candace’s dresser and called a transport.
Arriving at the well-appointed residence, Myseth walked through the lobby, as if she owned the place. Her clients were purchasing her creations nightly, which greatly augmented her status.
“Welcome, Myseth mya Jaknas,” Candace said, when she opened the suite’s door for the Lemgart. She dipped her head to the dresser, as she passed.
“How might I be of service?” asked Myseth, when she sat in a chair appropriate for her smaller body.
“For this evening, I require a shift in style,” Candace said.
The Pyreans noticed the glint in Myseth’s eyes. The Lemgart leaned her head back slightly. Then she shook her head, and beautiful long locks of silver and gray fur swirled.
“So, you elevate your game,” Myseth pronounced. She was obviously enjoying assisting the Pyreans, and the request confirmed her estimate that she wasn’t dealing with entrepreneurs.
Myseth glanced at Sam. “Why do you appear bigger?” she asked.
Candace responded by laughing.
Myseth regarded her dresser, who nodded in agreement with her mistress.
“My associate becomes restless,” Candace explained, chuckling. “He uses the salon’s furniture for exercise.”
Myseth looked down at the chair she sat on and then eyed Candace.
“No, too small,” Candace said. Then she pointed at the ornate couch that Sam occupied.
The short jaws of the Lemgarts fell open, as they took in the furniture’s mass.
“About the new design,” Candace said, to bring the Lemgarts back to the subject at hand.
“What’s the new direction?” Myseth asked, closing her mouth and focusing.
“I don’t wish to appear as if I’m seeking contacts and information,” Candace replied. “My outfit should communicate that I’m ready to engage in business, and I’m interested in discussing an agreement.”
Myseth thought about the instructions, and her mind considered the nature of the Pyreans. “Will the individuals, with whom you engage, be clients of Torque?” she asked.
“Yes,” Candace said.
“And do you intend one of these individuals to accept your proposal?” Myseth asked. When the female human’s eyes briefly flicked toward the enormous male, Myseth’s suspicions were confirmed. The male associate was the leader of the pair.
Sam caught Myseth’s observation of Candace and him, and he noted Candace had given herself away.
“No, Myseth,” Sam said. “Our proposal is bait to catch the attention of another.”
“Could I know whom you intend to interest?” Myseth asked. “I’m familiar with the tastes of many of our elite. The males often request outfits they wish their mates or adoring females to wear.”
Sam considered the pros and cons of responding to the question. “Fystal jer Hathwa,” he finally said.
Myseth blinked, and her dresser’s eyes widened.
Now, Myseth could only imagine that she was either dealing with powerful criminal elements or security. But a client was a client, and she would service them superbly as she did all her clients. She rose, tossing her head’s elegant fur to the rear, and said, “I accept the challenge, and your creation will be ready for this evening.” Then the dresser and she exited the suite.
In the transport, the dresser, who was an offspring of Myseth, regarded her matriarch with concern. “Who are these humans?” she asked.
“I’ve yet to decide, but they’re dangerous to the foolhardy and unwary,” Myseth replied.
After Myseth left, Candace returned to her chair. “I screwed up, didn’t I?” she asked. “I failed to play my role, and Myseth was watching for any signal I gave away.”
“Myseth’s business requires her to read her clients,” Sam replied. “I don’t think we’d have fooled her for long. Besides, she only knows our relationship. She doesn’t know what we represent. Your mistake was minor, and it didn’t cost us anything, this time.’’ He kept his eyes fixed on Candace to drive his point home.
“Mistake aside, let’s discuss the offer,” Candace said, preferring to change the subject.
“We keep the origination and the type of goods vague,” Sam responded. “Instead, we focus on the quantities, frequency of shipments, and size of loads.”
“Okay, but we need a destination,” Candace said. “It must be an intermediate location. Fystal will be leery if we request to ship to Pyre.”
“True,” Sam replied. He hadn’t thought that far ahead, and he saw a hole forming in his plan.
“What about Quall?” Candace suggested. “Few individuals know about the planet’s history and the Packeoes, who now occupy it.”
“The dome isn’t available to the Packeoes,” Sam pointed out. “They don’t even have access to shuttle transport. For their aggressive actions, Alex denied them their battleships and their shuttles.”
Candace slipped off her boots to tuck her feet on the chair and think. “Fystal is extremely connected. There’s the chance that he knows of the Packeoes’ restrictions,” she mused.
“Maybe we can still use your idea,” Sam said excitedly. “In fact, let’s test Fystal’s intel. When he approaches you, he’ll either question your destination or he won’t. If he does, you can smile conspiratorially and say that you only need a way station.”
“Clever thinking,” Candace said approvingly. “The Packeoes don’t have access to the dome, which leaves us free to ship there, store the loads, and then ship wherever and whenever we want. No interference.”
13: Temptation
Myseth arrived in the evening with the dresser and the stylist. When she entered the humans’ suite, she regarded the humans and said, “It’s my understanding that this is a delicate moment in your operation. Therefore, I’ve brought choices to ensure that one of my creations suits your needs.”
Rather than disappear into Candace’s sleeping quarters, the dresser unpacked three outfits and laid them on the couch.
“Is it appropriate for your associate to undress here?” Myseth asked. When she saw the blush that effused Candace’s face and neck, she added, “Apparently not.”
Then Myseth directed Candace to stand before Sam, and the dresser held up the major parts of each outfit in front of Candace.
There was a general theme, and it wasn’t as Candace had feared. Gone were the transparent or sheer garments that exposed more skin than they hid. A combination of jacket and pants dominated each creation.
“Too militaristic,” Sam
said to the first presentation. “Not serious enough,” he said to the second offering. For the third, his hand went to his jaw, and he rubbed it gently. “I like this one,” he said.
“I thought you might,” Myseth said. The huge human’s intentions were clear to her now. Although, she still didn’t know whether she was dealing with criminals or not.
Myseth left, and Candace, the dresser, and the stylist disappeared into the sleeping quarters.
When Candace reappeared, Sam approved. The hair adornment had been replaced with a peaked cap. The short jacket ended at the waist.
Candace ordered a small vehicle for Sam. Then she exited the suite for the waiting transport. She still climbed a ramp and was ensconced in the enclosure. Apparently, Myseth’s employees were intent on not allowing their mistress’s creation to be wrinkled or their adornments to be disturbed.
When Candace walked down the ramp at Torque, she saw Sam’s vehicle silently halt across the roadway. As she walked into the club, he linked with her.
Candace collected a drink and wandered through the club. It was obvious to her that Myseth knew her craft. The gazes of Lemgarts registered interest. They’d discerned the change in her intent by the shift in her clothing.
None of Candace’s three targets were present, but she chose to stay through her customary two drinks to see if one or more of them arrived.
Before her second drink was finished, Candace saw Fystal making his way toward her.
“You appear ready to do business,” Fystal said, by way of greeting.
“That’s my intention, and I’m waiting for certain individuals to arrive,” Candace replied.
“Who?” Fystal demanded. He hadn’t wanted to sound desperate, but he was infuriated by the thought of losing a tremendous number of credits.
“Your competitors, of course,” Candace replied.
“Why?” Fystal asked plaintively. “I’ve the largest transport company. I can move loads more frequently and effectively than any other company.”
Candace handed off her empty drink to a passing server. Then she regarded Fystal with narrowed eyes. “Your competitors were more forthright with me than you, Fystal jer Hathwa. I’ve heard the superlatives you espouse, but you’ve offered me no proof.”
The pair glared at each other.
Sam, monitoring the exchange through Candace’s implant, sent,
“Yes,” Fystal finally said. “There needs to be a better exchange. I would ask you to outline your proposal. If I see that it’s worth my time, I’ll provide you proof of my company’s value.”
Candace described the broad details that the major and she had invented. She could see the interest growing in Fystal’s eyes.
“I find your business needs intriguing,” Fystal admitted, when Candace was finished. “When your loads arrive at our dome, where will they journey?”
“Why do you need to know that now?” Candace asked, taking her cue from Sam.
“I’ve no wish to impugn your operation or you,” the Lemgart said, allowing a fall of hair over one eye, which Candace thought was a sign of curiosity or distrust, “but if my company runs the risk of being embroiled in something illegal, it would be good to know that you’ve thought through every step of your enterprise.”
In an imitation of Fystal, Candace cocked her head to the side, and Sam chuckled when he saw the lieutenant’s view tilt. Then she pursed her lips, as if she had come to a decision. Leaning forward, she whispered, “Quall.”
The fall of hair over Fystal’s eye shifted from the head’s left side to the right. “Not possible,” he said softly.
Candace shrugged, as if Fystal’s opinion didn’t matter.
“My sources tell me that Packeoes have no access to the Quall dome,” Fystal argued. Although, he was careful to deliver his statement while leaning close to Candace.
“That part is true,” Candace replied conspiratorially, “and it’s also most convenient.”
Light dawned in Fystal’s eyes. “My apologies,” he said quietly. “That’s most ingenious of you and your associates.”
“My benefactors are a most careful group,” Candace replied. “Their satisfaction with this enterprise’s arrangements is paramount to me.”
“I can understand that,” Fystal said appreciatively.
“Now, it’s your turn,” Candace said. “When and where will you present your proof?”
“In what form do you wish it?” Fystal asked.
“I require a client’s endorsement of your services,” Candace replied.
“That would be difficult,” Fystal hedged.
“This isn’t my request,” Candace pointed out. “My benefactors require it.”
“Would a recording suffice?” Fystal asked hopefully.
“Absolutely not,” Candace retorted. “It must be a face-to-face meeting. This will allow me to question your client.”
While Fystal considered the request, Sam sent,
“I can provide you with a Lemgart, who has done business with my enterprise for more than ten annuals,” Fystal said.
“Does he or she move cargo at the rate and quantity that I’m proposing?” Candace asked.
“No, but he has been consistent throughout the annuals,” Fystal offered.
“Not good enough,” Candace replied. “My benefactors have given me specific details to confirm.”
“Perhaps you can speak to your benefactors about relenting on some of their requirements,” Fystal requested. “I would hope they understand that I must protect the identities of my most lucrative clients.”
“I understand, but I don’t have any leeway here,” Candace replied. “I wish you a good evening, Fystal jer Hathwa,” she said and turned away.
Candace nearly made Torque’s entrance when she felt a firm grip on her arm. She whirled quickly, her instincts and security training taking over. The swift movement, which threw a hand off her arm, allowed sharp nails to rip the costume’s fabric.
Fystal froze in place. He’d committed two major social gaffes — touching a club customer without consent and distressing a client’s ensemble. Fystal glanced around. He saw Lemgarts staring at him with a collection of disgust, anger, and shock.
Candace glanced at the rips in the fabric, and she laughed. “This is how you conduct business,” she said loudly. “It’s a wonder you have any clients at all, Fystal jer Hathwa.”
“My sincere apologies,” Fystal declared urgently. “I’ll reimburse you for your creation.”
“You think I care about my clothing?” Candace asked, and she laughed harder. “I’m a businessperson. I seek responsible and successful associates, not individuals who fail to understand the basic principles of good partnerships.”
Candace didn’t wait for Fystal to respond. She exited the club, ascended the transport’s ramp, and sat heavily on a side bench.
As the transport drove away, the dresser stared in horror at the rents in Candace’s costume. The rips were evidently made by a Lemgart’s nails.
“Who?” the dresser asked.
“Unimportant,” Candace said by way of dismissal. She was focused on her conversation with Sam.
Candace resisted chuckling. Neither of them could tell the Lemgarts apart without being close and resorting to implant recognition.
e emotion encompassing his thought didn’t offer much hope.
* * * * *
“What is your impression of the human?” Usslert, the Usaanan, asked of Fystal. With a short arm, he’d indicated that the Lemgart should be seated.
“My sources inform me that there are two humans,” Fystal replied. He sat deeper in his seat, as the sand serpent slid toward him and extended his length above him to intimidate.
“Tell me,” Usslert demanded.
“The second human has been identified as male,” Fystal replied.
“And?” Usslert queried with impatience.
“That’s all that’s known,” Fystal replied, trying not to cringe.
“Don’t tell me that,” Usslert hissed. “Give me the fine details.”
“The female is staying at a most reputable and expensive establishment,” Fystal replied. “My sources can’t physically penetrate the location, but they’ve paid individuals for knowledge. Those who’ve divulged information say little, except that the male is physically large.”
“How large?” Usslert asked.
Fystal marginally relaxed. Usslert had retreated to a broad high cushion. He coiled his lower half, which allowed him to maintain a downward view of Fystal. It was a common technique used by Usaanans to dominate others.
“We’re Lemgarts,” Fystal replied. “The human female looks big to us. Those who have entered the humans’ suite say that the male is extremely big.”
“Pyrean humans are big; Omnians can be bigger. Which race of humans is this one?” Usslert inquired.
“Unknown,” Fystal replied.
“Your information is woefully lacking in substance. I suggest you conduct no business with these humans until you know more,” Usslert pronounced.
“Usaanan, you know your race and your home world. We know ours. The female demonstrates business acumen and adeptness at portraying Lemgart social norms,” Fystal replied sharply.
Fystal’s greed had driven him to seek a meeting with Usslert, even though he’d dreaded it. The thought had crossed Fystal’s mind that he could keep secret that he was aware of a second human. However, if the sand serpent discovered that he’d withheld the information, then he might be the one having an accident.