by Pati Nagle
I felt sorry for Ling2 sometimes, even though I knew she was as well-paid as anyone in the restaurant biz. Being well-paid was small comfort while you were working off a genengineering contract. Technically Ling2 was Ling-Ling’s relative, but I’d never seen any sign of affection between them. Must be tough to know you were alive only because the boss needed extra help.
Well, that was sort of my situation as well, come to think of it.
I gave Ling2 a big, wide, golden-eyed gosh-you’re-swell look and another purr while she scratched my ruff. Then I stood up and stretched, and she turned back to her customers.
Wash your hands, kid, I thought as I stepped out into the rotunda. You don’t want to know what I’ve been rolling in.
I headed across the rotunda for Customs. Things were a little busier now. Most people had seen the sedonai story several times by now and were ready to move on. I threaded my way among the legs of locals rushing to get to their jobs before the shuttle arrived. Just before I reached the tunnel, I heard a “Psst” from between two kiosks.
I stopped and glanced up. Devin was staring at me from between a rack of leather coats and a shelf of polished ice-rock bookends from Ganymede.
He turned away and walked down the service corridor. I rubbed my jaw against the coat rack and glanced around to make sure no one was watching before I casually followed him back to a storeroom full of unopened cargo tubs.
Devin closed the door after I slipped in. He sat down on one of the dull gray tubs and I jumped up on top of two that were stacked, bringing me nearly eye to eye with him.
“You look like hell,” I told him. “Party too hard last night?”
Devin rubbed his unshaven jaw. He was dressed in a null-suit that looked like he’d already worn it a week. I keep telling the guy he needs a wife. At least she could dress him so he resembled a member of the human race.
“No,” he said, and coughed to clear his throat. “For your information, you have me to thank that you weren’t dragged out of bed four hours ago.”
I rolled my ears forward. “Oh-five-hundred? What got you up at that hour?”
“That’s when those damn birds got nipped. The chief called the whole team in in the minute the news arrived. I told him you’d had a hard day yesterday with that fish oil incident.”
“Oh.”
I was touched by his thoughtfulness, and licked my chest a few times to hide my emotion. Devin might look like a deep-sleaze, but he was actually a decent guy. I was lucky to have him for a partner. There are worse, much worse, on the Gamma Security force.
“Well, thanks,” I said, sitting up straighter and meeting his slightly bloodshot gaze. “So what’s the word?”
Devin reached in his pocket and pulled out his hand-held holopad. It wasn’t cutting edge, but it was a lot better than the cheap set at Ling-Ling’s. He set it in front of me on the tub.
“Play file 2birds.”
The pad threw up the same image of the sedonai that had been on the news, but a much better copy. It must have come straight from the aviary, because it was longer and more detailed than what had been on the news.
I leaned forward, mouth open and inhaling intently, memorizing every detail. The birds’ scent was unlike that of any avian I had ever encountered. They smelled delicious, to be blunt about it. Kind of spicy, with tangy overtones.
After one full rotation, the still image broke into motion. I reacted instinctively, putting out a paw to snag the smaller, less flashy female. The ghost feathers brushed under my pads, a silky tease. It was that good a holo.
The two birds flittered around each other and gave a few little mournful “towoos,” then the file ended and they vanished. I sat back and gave my chin a lick.
“Intergal thinks there’s a good chance they’ll come through here,” Devin said. “We’re supposed to keep a close watch on all the incoming traffic.” He started to put the holopad back in his pocket, then hesitated. “You got the scent down? Want another review?”
I shook my head. “No. I’ll remember it, unless it’s heavily masked.”
“There’s this, too.”
Devin stashed the holopad and pulled out a small, transparent vac pouch. Inside it were a few red and blue feathers. I pricked my ears forward.
“They let those out of their hands? Jeez, aren’t they worth a fortune?”
Devin shook his head, opened the pouch, and scattered the feathers onto his palm, where they lay shimmering. “These are mockups from Cysgee Four’s natural history museum. Pretty good, eh?”
I leaned forward, sniffing, then drew back at the stench. “They look great, but they smell like horse glue.”
“Yeah, well, usually they’re behind plex.”
“Can I have one?”
“Sure. Take ‘em all, if you want. Everyone else has seen them.”
I reached out and gathered the feathers up, careful not to stick a claw into Dev’s hand. I fanned the half-dozen feathers in my paw like a poker hand, then flicked them shut and stashed them in my pouch with my com unit. One of the feather ends poked me in the ribs, and I had to adjust it.
“I’ll show them to my buds. Never hurts to have extra eyes watching.”
Devin shrugged. He tended to get deaf whenever I brought up the subject of my feline friends. I considered them teammates, really—especially Butch. they helped me out a lot with certain chores, and I repaid them with choice bits from Ling-Ling’s and a selection of the other goodies that came my way. I’d been trying to talk Devin into getting them official status with Security, but he wasn’t interested in non-modified quadrupeds.
He didn’t offer to lend me the holopad so I could play the file for my pals, and I didn’t bother to ask. It was too big for me to carry comfortably anyway, unless I held it in my mouth, and I hate the taste of plastic.
I smoothed my whiskers with a paw. “Any clues about who we might be looking for?”
Devin shrugged. “Whoever it is had access to the aviary. No forced entry, and no alarms tripped. The dogs came up with zilch, which means the perps covered their scent.”
I repressed the urge to sniff. Dogs—some dogs, not Hosehead—have their talents, but for anything requiring brain power, they’re useless.
“So you might not smell anything,” Dev went on, “but keep watch anyway, OK?”
“Roger.”
“Time to hit the beat.” Devin got up from the storage tub. “Give me a minute to get to Molly’s. I’ll see you at the customs gate.”
“Right.”
I jumped down and did a quick inspection of the storeroom’s less accessible corners while I waited for Dev to get clear. No mice. Good for Gamma, tough luck for me.
I strolled out and gave the leather kiosk a once-around, rubbing up on all the racks. Along the curve of the rotunda I saw Devin leaning against the counter at Molly’s Bar & Grill, talking up the morning girl. For a smart guy, he showed a pretty undiscriminating taste in females. I flicked my tail in disgust and turned away to finish my rounds before heading up the tunnel toward customs.
I poked my head into Steadly’s looking for Butch. He wasn’t there, so I figured Tammy had roped him into hanging out in the tea shoppe.
He was there, all right, curled up on the red cushion of his stand, looking morose. Next to him was an ornate empty bird cage hanging from its own stand of curlicued wrought iron. Tammy’s sick idea of a joke, maybe.
I padded a little way into the tea shoppe. “Psst. Butch.”
Butch’s head snapped up and he looked at me, then turned to stare toward the back of the parlor, where three females of different bipedal species, all in snappy travel outfits, were chattering over their tea and scones.
Tammy was nowhere in sight. Butch leaped down from the stand and hurried toward me, a sight that would easily intimidate someone who didn’t know him.
“Hey, Leon! Any action?” His eyes were bright green with hope.
“Could be. Let’s find a quiet place to talk.”
“No
t in the smoking room. Tammy chased me out of there with a broom earlier.”
“Down by the recycle chute, then?”
Butch nodded his massive head, and we made for the service corridor where the nearby kiosks disposed of their garbage. Butch sniffed the floor around the hatch to make sure nothing interesting had been dropped, then sat down and invited me to join him.
“I heard about that thing with the birds,” he said. “Tammy had the news on in the kitchen.”
I nodded. “Good. Did you get a whiff of them?”
“Uh—yeah, sort of.”
“Would you remember if you smelled it again?”
Butch licked his paw and thought about it. “Not sure.”
“Well, see if you can catch the story again, and pay attention. The chief thinks those hot birds might come through here.”
“No kidding?” Butch licked his chops.
“And they’re worth a bundle,” I said, frowning, “so whoever recovers them in good condition stands to be amply rewarded.”
“Oh, yeah. Right.”
I reached into my shoulder pouch and took out the faked-up sedonai feathers. Fanning them out again, I showed them to Butch.
“This is what the plumage looks like. These are mockups, so the smell is wrong.”
“I’ll say.” Butch frowned and wrinkled his nose, then batted at my feathers, knocking one out of my paw.
He pushed it around, trying to turn it over. I put the others away and flipped it for him, exposing the rusty, coppery top surface. The underside was blue-green.
“Pretty flashy,” Butch said.
I wasn’t sure if he meant the feather or my thumb-work. I acted like it was the feather.
“Yeah. If you spot the birds, don’t try to grab ‘em. Just come get me. Devin and I will handle it.”
Butch gave a last, wistful bat at the feather. “Okay.”
I scooped the feather up again and put it back in my pouch. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Butch with it, but he was the sort of tom who might forget and leave it lying around someplace where it might be spotted. I didn’t want the perps, if they did come through Gamma, to spot fake sedonai feathers on that red velvet stand, say. They’d get suspicious, and I’d get in dutch with the chief.
“Seen Leila this morning?” I asked Butch as we started back.
He gave a snort. “I wish. You know she don’t mix with the masses much.”
“Yeah, I know. Her human brings her to Tammy’s now and then though, doesn’t she?”
He shrugged. “It’s been a while.”
“Well, if you see her, give her the scoop. I want everyone keeping an eye out.”
“Okay.”
We arrived back in front of Tammy’s and Steadly’s. Butch cast a wistful glance at the smoking room, where a holographic fire flickered invitingly on the hearth between two leather chairs. Then he turned toward the tea shoppe with a sigh of resignation.
“Well, better get back to the grind.”
I watched him slink back toward the red velvet pillory. “Take it easy, Butch.”
“Sure,” he growled over his shoulder.
One powerful thrust of his hindquarters propelled him onto the stand. He turned around a couple of times and settled in for the long haul.
Tammy’s honey-coated voice wafted out from the back of the tea shoppe. I didn’t want her to invite me to join Butch on display, so I made myself scarce. It was nearly time for the first shuttle anyway.
When I got to the Customs the yellow light on the gate was flashing, warning of an imminent incoming FTL. Futtle-shuttles, the locals called them. The passengers coming in from them always looked a bit shell-shocked.
I trotted up the sloping ramp and greeted the customs inspectors as I passed through into the waiting area. Huey grinned and beckoned me over with a whistle and a wave of his hand.
Huey was a big, friendly galumph with slick dark hair and a face that was an open book. As a customs inspector he was average, being too good-natured to be really tough. Most days he was good for a bite of nutribar or equivalent. I strolled on over to collect.
He tossed me a scrap of bagel. Onion—not my favorite. I was tempted just to lick off the cream cheese, but I believe in oiling the wheels so I gulped it down, gave him a cute look, and rubbed against his leg before moving on.
Beyond the gate, in the waiting area by the lift, the ceiling was low and the walls blandly industrial. Everything was geared toward moving passengers into the rotunda as efficiently as possible. No distracting artwork or advertising to slow them down. The few seats that were there were designed to be uncomfortable.
I eased over to one wall to sniff the floor seam, but the cleaning crew had been here too. No amusing smells or bits of interstellar dust. Disappointed, I chased my tail for a couple of turns, then collapsed onto my side to wait for the lift to disgorge the fresh fish.
It would be a while before they showed up. The gate lights were still flashing yellow—they had to go to orange and then red before the shuttle would spill its load. I glanced around, wondering if Devin would be here in time to watch the crowd, or if he’d gotten distracted by the chica at Molly’s.
No sign of him so far, so I stretched out my forelegs and laid my head on my paws, fixing to take a cat nap. I was just dozing off when I heard a plaintive mew.
“Leon! Daaarling!”
I raised my head and looked back toward the gate. The last creature I expected to see here was Leila, but there she was, peeking out of a jewel-encrusted tote bag over Elsa’s arm. I got up and ambled back through the gate to talk to her.
Elsa had taken over management of Megalink’s local branch, and was doing quite well for herself. In her tailored cling she looked as sleek as Leila in a blonde, bipedal sort of way.
“What are you two doing here?” I asked Leila in cat-talk.
Leila rolled her large, green-gold eyes. “Mamzelle is meeting a friend coming in from Ross something-or-other.”
“154,” I supplied.
“I’m sure.”
“Do you like riding in that thing? I mean, it looks uncomfortable.”
“It is, cher, but it’s so chic.”
Elsa looked down at me at that point, and gave me a nudge with an alligator-clad toe. “Shoo!”
I flashed her a hurt look and moved around behind her, pretending to shove off. A second later, when Elsa had turned to talk to Huey, I slipped in close again to whisper to Leila.
“Did you see the news this morning? Catch the story about the stolen Cygnius sedonai from Cygsee Four?”
Leila nodded, breaking into a purr. “Oh, yes! Such pretty birds!”
“Keep your eye out. Central thinks the thief may try to bring them through here.”
She gave a wide-eyed blink. “Ooh!”
Elsa was still chattering with the customs inspector. I glanced around to make sure no one else was watching, then palmed one of the fake feathers from my shoulder pouch and quickly took it in my mouth. It tasted as bad as it smelled.
“Hewe,” I said, and reared up to spit the feather into Leila’s jeweled carrier. It caught on the fluffy trim around the top of the bag. Leila reached a tentative paw toward it.
“That’s just for reference,” I told her. “It’s not the real thing, but that’s what the plumage looks like.”
“Pretty! But the birds on the news holo didn’t smell like this.”
“I know. Like I said, it’s a fake. Keep it out of sight, okay?”
Leila tilted her head, blinked at me, then with a swift swipe of her paw knocked the feather into the bag. Elsa looked up and reached around to rub Leila’s head, then went back to her conversation.
“What’s so special about this friend?” I asked Leila. “I’ve never seen Elsa meet an incoming shuttle before.”
“An old schoolmate. Became a mechanical engineer and moved to the edge of nowhere to become a prospector. It’s a little sad, really.”
“Uh-huh.” I nodded, but I was losing interest. L
eila’s idea of the edge of nowhere was someplace without 24-7 room service. For cats.
A loud buzzer went off and the gate lights went from yellow to orange. I looked up at Leila.
“I’ve got to get back to work. You let me know if you get a whiff of those birds, all right?”
Leila groomed her left ear. “Yes, yes, cher. I will, assuming I am not still in this bag. It is very hard to climb out when Elsa has the straps over her shoulder.”
I gave her a deadpan look. “The birds are extremely valuable. There could be a substantial reward involved.”
Leila edged one ear forward. “How lovely. I will keep watch for them.”
I couldn’t tell if she was being serious or sarcastic. It wasn’t as though Elsa didn’t have enough money to keep Leila in obscene luxury. On the other hand, most of the people I know who can’t seem to get enough money are the ones who already have too much.
“Gotta go,” I said. “I’ll bring something by for you later.”
“Thank you, cher,” Leila purred as I headed for the gate.
I started planning how to get Leila out of Elsa’s for an evening. Elsa wasn’t outright mean to me, but she really didn’t like me hanging around. Nothing but the best purebreds for her little Leila-kins. I had a pedigree, but it was—shall we say—unusual.
Even if it hadn’t been, I doubt Elsa would have let me near Leila. A Burmese/Maine Coon cross was a bit of a frightening thought.
I slipped through Huey’s gate again as the lights went from orange to red. The shuttle had landed, and in a minute the lift would unload the first round and Customs would become a zoo. I went back to my spot by the wall and lay down to watch.
Devin slouched up to Elsa and weaseled his way into her conversation with Huey. I hoped he was just doing it for the sake of work, cause I didn’t think much more of Elsa than I did of the bar girls at Molly’s. Too polished, too cold. Devin needed a nice girl with warm, gentle hands who cooked great fish dinners and always had leftovers.
The first incoming passengers started to arrive, looking tired. I sat up to watch, sniffing for a whiff of that exotic tangy-spicy scent.
Anyone with a hand-carry deserved special attention. The regular luggage all got scanned, and would be picked up on the other side of the gate. It was the people wanting exception to the scan procedure who were most likely to be trying to sneak something through.
