It wasn’t somewhere that Kylie felt at all comfortable.
A short while later, inside a boutique, she leaned against a white column as Nadine tried on her fifth scarf. This one’s material was velvet soft and changed colors as she turned side to side. Nadine cupped her hands beneath her face and held her head high. “What do you think?”
“It’s perfect.”
“You’ve said that about the last three scarfs.”
“Four, but who’s counting?”
“You are, obviously.” Nadine smirked but tried to hide it as she went for a blue scarf with pom-pom tassels. God, not another scarf with tassels.
“You’ve looked perfect in everyone you’ve tried on. Is it my fault blue is your color?”
Nadine tossed the scarf around her hair like an elegant cowl. “Head outside. I’ll be right there.”
Kylie raised an eyebrow. It wasn’t like Nadine to just dismiss her like that, but if she got the chance to get out of there, Kylie had to take it. “Sure, but you be careful.”
Nadine laughed out her nose. “Yes, I’ll make sure all the violent hoes don’t get me.”
Women. Kylie greeted the lady monitoring the front door. “I’m just going to step outside and catch some fresh air.”
The highbrow woman with crisply defined eyebrows that arched disdainfully, not to mention an hourglass body that was far from natural, barely looked at her. Instead, she pushed up her bangles and sniffed with disinterest. “Junkers like you belong on sub-level six. I think you’d find what you’re looking for there.”
Guns, ammo. The mercs hung out on sub-six and ran it with an iron fist. Once, it was actually a level of the city, as the name implied. Now it was an entire section of Montral. Those that didn’t belong, or showed a sign of weakness, were quickly dealt with. Even Kylie only went there when she absolutely had to.
Kylie smiled unkindly at the woman and stepped outside. The filtered air smelled fresh and clean. Leaning on her elbows on the white banister, Kylie watched the stream that flowed through the center of the promenade. Others did the same as they collected on benches or hung around the trees. It was a tranquil place, and far up above, a holoprojection portrayed a beautiful blue sky and yellow suns.
It was all just a show. Salvagers. Gangsters. Junkers. Those who worked for Maverick, the other families, or did the biding of the GFF. This city brimmed with them. Couldn’t trust any of them and Kylie was one of them. So, what was it about her crew that made them different?
Maybe they weren’t different. Maybe that was the problem.
Kylie straightened up as someone approached. She could hear his heavy boots as he sidled up behind her. She turned, and he caught her hand, slipping a card key into it. He was one of those seriously modded guys with the requisite spyglass-looking lens fused into his eye. In a thick vest and heavy pants, he appeared bulkier than he was.
“Maverick says hello. He’s looking forward to seeing you tonight.” The man glanced at the store as Nadine exited. She held a small blue bag in her hand. “He wants you to bring your girlfriend, but leave your boy toys at home or on the ship. Maverick don’t much care where they go, as long as he has you girls to himself.”
Bingo.
Kylie tilted her head to the side as she slid the card key into her pocket. “We look forward to it.”
“Change your clothes. New dresses are being sent to your apartment.” The man ordered as he turned tail and hurried away. Probably the clean smell of the place gave him a headache.
“See,” Kylie said as Nadine reached her side. “I told you it’d go according to plan.”
Eyebrows raised, she let out a deep breath. “This time I kinda hoped you’d be wrong. Plus…now I won’t get to wear this scarf to Caviar Club tonight.”
Kylie snapped her fingers. Couldn’t Maverick have waited a day? “C’mon. We have to suit up, and I have a few little surprises of my own.”
“Be careful, Kylie. If Maverick catches us…if he figures out we’re up to something…”
Kylie didn’t need to be reminded by any of that. She slipped her arm around Nadine’s and led her toward the closest maglev station.
* * * * *
Kylie’s quarters were on level fifty-seven of a high-rise apartment complex on the eastern side of Montral. The view from the windows looked out over the bustling city center. Sounds of traffic filtered in from the open window in the bedroom and a gust of wind brought the smell of industry. The dark bedroom twinkled with lights from the billboards that flitted by outside.
Except for a round bed in the center of the bedroom, covered in burgundy satin sheets, Kylie didn’t have many belongings. There was a large, abstract watercolor painting her parents had sprung for once. It was one of the only things Kylie really cared for about her quarters. Truth be told, she only kept the apartment just in case of emergencies. It was a good place to hide a few extra illegal weapons when they took the Dauntless to more legitimate ports.
The building also had the added benefit of being protected by the GFF. She’d only have trouble here if Maverick turned on her. It was like an early warning system. It didn’t make the idea of double crossing him feel any better, that was for sure.
Both ladies put on the slinky blue dresses Maverick had sent. They shimmered with waves of light, and the shade of blue shifted subtly as they walked. Kylie’s had a high collar but was sleeveless. She paired it with black gloves and jewels around her wrists. The dress barely covered her ass, and her luminescent tights gave her a soft glow with each step. When she talked, the fabric of the dress hummed.
Nadine’s dress was short in the front but had a long, flowing train made of bundles of fabric. Her blue bangs waffled in the breeze, sparkling with light and color as she swung a pendant necklace on and Kylie helped her clasp it. She couldn’t help a slow kiss against the nape of her neck. Nadine smelled good, always did, but that might more delicious than usual.
“You like it?” Nadine’s voice purred like a cat. “Just picked it up. Maverick’s men are going to go wild for it.”
Kylie’s vision swam with stars as her lips lingered against the soft skin. “It’s affecting my thinking. I’m not sure how I feel about Maverick getting this close to you while he smells it.”
“It’ll keep him distracted. That’s what we want, isn’t it? Put some on before we leave.”
Kylie laughed. “I have my own secrets, darling. You keep yours for yourself.”
“We will walk out of this alive, won’t we?” Nadine’s eyes opened wide and her expression grew serious.
Kylie sat on the bed as she put on her bronze watch, and drew a black fur shrug around her shoulders. It accentuated her hourglass figure even further. “If we keep to our parts, we can do this. When I’m in with Maverick, I’m going to pass the codes onto you. You need to check the place out. See if you can find little miss Lana.”
Nadine’s eyes widened. “Me? I’m not as good with the snooping and bullshit stories as you are, Kylie. If I get caught, I might throw up. And these are expensive shoes.”
“It’ll be easier than spending time alone with Maverick. I can’t do that to you.”
“I don’t want to do it to you, either.”
“But I can take it. You’re the dignitary. I’m just,” Kylie shrugged, “nobody.”
Nadine sat down beside her on the bed. “That’s not true. You know that. If there was anyone who defies their birth order, it’s you.”
Kylie was the middle of seven children which meant, to Nadine’s family, that Kylie was a nothing. Something just lost in the shuffle of scholars and the affluent. Most people didn’t care about that sort of thing anymore, but to Nadine’s highbrow caste, birth order meant everything. She didn’t know if it was important to Nadine, Kylie had never asked.
“I’ll be fine. You’ll see, but thanks for caring. As for you, young lady, all we need are the system scans. The rosters. Maverick is too organized. If Lana is in the club, or anywhere else in Montral, for that matter, he
’ll have it listed somewhere. Or you’ll find her…” Kylie swallowed hard, “in the cage.”
Nadine shivered, and the color seeped out of her skin. “I’ve always tried to pretend that place doesn’t exist.”
“I know,” Kylie cooed, feeling like maybe she might be sick.
“If I see it, if I know it’s real, for sure…I don’t know how much longer I can work for him,” Nadine admitted.
Kylie took her by the shoulders. With luck, soon none of them would need Maverick, and they’d be out from under his thumb. “We focus on tonight, and that’s that. We find Lana and get her out of here. We get her back, and we’re done with Maverick and the GFF forever.”
“And if she’s in the cage. How the hell do you propose we get her out?”
“I’ll come up with a plan. I always do.”
Nadine kissed Kylie’s cheek. “You better.”
A NIGHT ON THE TOWN
STELLAR DATE: 08.37.8947 (Adjusted Years)
LOCATION: City of Montral, Jericho
REGION: Gedri System, Silstrand Alliance
Grayson had been nervous about missions before, but for this mission he was nervous and out of his element.
Rogers had waited until Laerdo Station’s elevator was congested with rush-hour passengers before leading Winter and Grayson to a rental agency near their berth. There, they selected a small but fast station-to-surface shuttle and took it down to Montral’s external docks.
Though the city had a space elevator, the lift didn’t have the capacity to handle the volume of cargo that seemed to move on and off-planet—far more than the official data on the world indicated. Much of the traffic to and from the city passed through these docks, directly from the warehouses sprawling outside the city’s dome to the waiting ships in orbit.
Grayson wondered what sort of filth festered just beneath the surface.
Rogers deftly piloted the shuttle through congested traffic of autonomous cargo pods, shuttles like theirs, small transports, and even some ships in the three-hundred-meter range. Most came down on grav drives, but a few burned their torches at far lower altitudes than any civilized world would have allowed.
The docks and warehouses were extensive, stretching for kilometers east of Montral’s dome. Some had grav or electrostatic shielding around them to hold in a thicker atmosphere, but others didn’t, and workers in rebreathers could be seen hauling cargo in and out.
Rogers eased the shuttle into a tall hangar with a grav shield over the entrance, holding the denser air in. He set the craft down in a cradle, and a minute later they had disembarked. Some hard credit chits swapped hands with a dock worker that Rogers was friendly with, and the trio of men were off.
Winter took the lead as they entered a narrow tunnel, which eventually met with a wider thoroughfare that led toward the domed city. Thousands of people of all possible configurations surrounded them, and the sounds of cargo haulers, a level below them in the tunnel, echoed up through vents on the walls—along with a host of industrial smells.
Grayson sighed as he pushed past some people who turned their heads to laugh at him. “Of all the things, I can’t believe this is the only shirt you had for me. I look like a walking postcard.”
“Sorry,” Rogers cast Winter a glance and they both held in a chuckle that Grayson didn’t miss. They were juvenile as children. “It’s laundry day.”
“I’m sure of it.” Grayson threw him a glare and was sure Rogers had done it on purpose “People are staring at me.”
“You’re imagining it,” Rogers said.
Winter shook his head. “Nah, they really are staring at him.”
Rogers let out a burst of laughter. “Relax, you’re going to have a stroke if you keep that up.” Rogers punched Grayson light on the arm.
Grayson wasn’t amused and his eyebrows knitted together. He didn’t say anything but grumbled quietly. He didn’t know if this hazing was supposed to endear him to the group, but he didn’t like it. And it wasn’t working.
After about twenty minutes of walking, they came out in the Ventrella Commercial Distract—where all the best bars, clubs, and whatever else a vile junker’s heart may desire—was to be found.
Unexpected sights were all around. The denizens of the Ventrella District wandered about dressed in tight leather, gleaming steel, or sheathed in polymers that Grayson was not able to identify on sight.
It was warm as they worked their way through the crowded streets, the smells of grime and chemicals from the docks now mixed with that of the unwashed masses of humanity.
Through it all, Grayson kept close to Rogers and a watchful eye on Winter.
A woman stumbled out, dressed in as little cloth as possible and still be deemed suitable attire. He hadn’t realized that clothing came in such small squares. Maybe Kylie was right—maybe he spent too much time in military stations even when not on assignment. He didn’t belong out here, he was a fish out of water. It wouldn’t take long for people to notice.
“You’re looking a little green around the gills. Lighten up.” Winter slapped him on the back. From the smirk he wore, he was clearly enjoying himself a little too much.
Grayson shrugged. “Me? I do this sort of thing all the time.”
The look Rogers and Winter gave each other suggested they weren’t going to fall for the little lie. Nervously, Grayson cleared his throat. “Oh, come on, you got me. I’m not used to this, all right?”
Rogers elbowed him. “Don’t worry, once we get past this stretch, we can relax a bit. What’s important is that we do our best to blend in. Not to draw attention to ourselves.”
“So, if you could relax and not look like a military guy in civvy clothes, that’d be awesome.”
“Then maybe you shouldn’t have given me a pink flower-print shirt anyone could see from a kilometer away.”
“Everyone loves a tourist, Grayson,” Rogers said. A glance passed between him and Winter again, and the unspoken words made Grayson fume. “If you have something to say, just say it.”
“You’re so rigid, your damn arms don’t move. You’re like a…doll, man. A molded, plastic toy.”
Rogers snorted. “Try swinging your arms more.”
Grayson tried, but it felt unnatural.
Winter sighed. “Now you look like a damn puppet. Well, we tried. Far as anyone knows, we’re here to show our buddy a good time, so let’s keep it up and keep the rest of it to ourselves.”
Grayson felt better even if nothing had really changed. He set his mind to focusing on the plan, and unconsciously relaxed as he followed Rogers and Winter through the crowd. They took a left around the corner of what had to be a whore-house, judging by the men and women standing outside, and then crossed a bridge over a slow-moving river—something that was rather surreal to see here, even if it was rather brown—to what Rogers described as the ‘mostly better’ side of Ventrella District.
Once across the bridge, the crowds were smaller, and the sound of soft music wafted over the breeze—not a recording or even synthesized—it sounded as though someone was actually strumming a guitar.
Rogers picked up on Grayson’s shocked facial expression and gave a nod. “It’s real, all right, and it’s a beauty. Every once in a while you find a real treasure, something that can bring you back to the good old days, even if you hadn’t been alive to see them in the first place.”
The music grew louder as they approached a smaller building. Outside, a row of patio tables with orange umbrellas were filled with patrons holding strong drinks and eating from large pl
ates of food. The aroma was intoxicating—food aboard the ships and stations Grayson usually frequented wasn’t bad, but it never smelled like this. The scent of rich gravies drenching flame-seared meat, of melted cheese, and spices that would set a tongue on fire.
A neon sign flashed above the metal door. It said Nancy’s Place. A simple name for food that smelled so good, Grayson thought. They passed through the door, and his enhanced vision noticed a bit of carbon scoring that someone hadn’t scrubbed all the way off—the place certainly saw more than just culinary action.
Grayson followed his companions into the darkened establishment. They walked around the side of the bar to a table not far from the guitarist. It was a woman, and a lovely one at that—despite the fact that she had an extra set of arms. Grayson couldn’t tell due to the placement of her guitar, but he suspected that she might also be naked.
“It takes all kinds,” Grayson mumbled to himself.
“Ain’t that the truth?” Winter banged his fist on the table.
It was as Grayson had suspected.
A waitress with her blonde hair done up in a beehive—complete with small robotic bees buzzing around it—stopped by the table. She wore too makeup on her near-plastic face, and a beige-colored latex shirt embraced her voluptuous curves. It was matched by a black pair of dangerously short shorts made of the same material. Grayson glanced at the other wait staff—this appeared to be the uniform at Nancy’s.
Close Proximity - An Aeon14 Space Opera Adventure (Perilous Alliance) Page 10
