by Alex P. Berg
Carl and I dumped the panel to the side, then I crossed back over and undid the latch. I knelt, gripped the edges, and lifted, throwing the box top open.
“Still alive in there?” I asked.
Dirk Kriggler uncurled from a fetal position, slowly standing and stretching himself back out. Frost crusted his jacket, and ice crystals sparkled in his hair. He pulled an oxygen respirator from his face and glared at me.
“Was that really necessary?” he said.
“Maybe, maybe not,” I said. “It all depended on whether or not we got selected for a random walkthrough or infrared scan before takeoff. As it turns out, we didn’t, but there was a moment there when I thought flight control was going to call us back.”
Kriggler dumped the respirator on the ground and climbed out of the smuggling compartment. “I don’t care the reasons. I’m not going back in there.”
I frowned and crossed my arms. “I’m detecting a distinct lack of gratitude here. Did the cold addle your brain? Because it seems as if you’ve forgotten that I didn’t have to bail you out. I also didn’t have to drop a cool five million SEUs on this brand new Kestrel spacecraft so we could fly to Cetif on a private vessel, thereby hurdling your police-issued travel ban, and I didn’t have to get it equipped with a secret smuggling compartment before takeoff. You act like getting you off planet was easy. Heck, I wouldn’t even have known where to get the compartment installed if I didn’t have a former smuggler turned bounty hunter friend who was able to pass along a guy’s name. Besides, from everything I hear about Cetif, you should be right at home in the cold.”
“It rarely freezes there,” said Kriggler. “We get a consistent, chill drizzle more than anything. But I suppose you’re right. I appreciate the help, pal. I owe you. Big time.”
Wasn’t that the truth! Not only did Kriggler owe me monetarily for his bail and the cost of his passage onboard my new ship, but he owed me for my loyalty. I could’ve easily left him behind and continued the investigation on my own, but I figured his expertise would be the only thing keeping me from running into a brick wall the instant I set foot on Cetif. Even Carl had agreed, surprisingly enough. Even though I was fairly sure he disapproved of the journey entirely, once he saw I’d set my heart on travelling to Cetif, he insisted we bring Kriggler, despite the unlawfulness of it all. Maybe my old partner was getting rebellious in his advanced age.
“I’m not sure if that’s an apology,” I said, “but I’ll take it. Now help Carl get this panel back in place and strap up. You don’t want to be standing when the ship undergoes its course correction and transitions to a constant linear thrust.”
21
Rain pattered off our car’s panoramic Pseudaglas roof, the droplets fat and heavy and shimmering with the reflected light of several dozen blue, green, and magenta holosigns. They flashed intermittently, cutting through the cloud-shrouded dark of the Cetif night with stylized caricatures and symbols of bottles, cards, dominos, and barely clothed ladies. Real women dressed in similar fashion, probably frozen to their toes but somehow shrugging it off, stood under floating umbrella drones on the street corners, puffing on methamphetamine wands. Light from the signs played off the rain-slicked carapaces of Diraxi enforcers who stood in the shadows behind them, tall brutes with abnormally large pincers and an aura of violent indifference.
Our car pulled into an alley. The tall, looming walls on either side of us cut out even the colorful gleams of the holosigns, casting our car into shadow. We pulled ahead in silence, the faint electric whirr of the motor barely audible under the soft drumming of the rain. After a moment, we pulled into a courtyard, one with dull black pavement and metal trashcans taking the place of trees and grass. A heavy, steel door stood closed against the side of one of the buildings, illuminated by a bright red diode above it that cut through the gloom. A group of fifteen to twenty individuals clustered under an awning to the side of it, sequestered behind a length of cord strung between posts.
“This is it,” said Dirk. “Tiger Paw Number Five. Hottest bar in Lower Melghat.”
Apparently, Lower Melghat was the name of the cesspool into which we’d ventured—at least according to Kriggler, but Paige backed him up, and I trusted her fully if not necessarily him. Not that it was much worse than the rest of Cetif we’d thus far seen. By my estimation, everywhere we’d travelled since parking the Fhloston Paradise in one of local spaceport’s hangars had been dull, gray, and unseemly.
That’s an unfair assessment, said Paige. The planet wouldn’t even be livable without those persistent clouds that turn the world dull and gray.
And I suppose the copious numbers of gambling establishments and strip clubs are all part of Cetif’s global temperature regulation efforts, too?
Paige didn’t respond. Neither did Carl, who sat next to me.
“Tiger Paw Five,” I said to Kriggler. “Got it. Remind me again what we’re doing here?”
“We’re looking for a woman by the name of Daayan,” he replied. “No last name. No first name, either, for that matter. Daayan translates to witch, or something along those lines. Seems insulting if you ask me, but that’s the name she goes by. Far be it from me to question her on that.”
“And why do we need to talk to her?”
“Because unlike the jacket we picked up for you at the megamart, you can’t buy skimmers off the rack,” said Kriggler. “I need a replacement for the one I pitched off that high-rise on your home world before we can continue tracking the signal from the satellite array. Besides, Daayan has her ears to the ground. If someone’s funneling large quantities of SEUs from Cetie bank accounts, she’ll have heard about it. She might not be willing to hand the information over, but she’ll part with it for a price. Anything can be bought with her.”
I glanced at my new coat, a solid black ElastoLeather jacket I’d chosen partially for its warmth and partially because it was one of the few things that fit my short, muscular frame. I’d also sprung for matching, ultrathin ElastoLeather gloves, a new pair of lined pants, and a rather stylish dark gray field cap. Despite packing what warm clothes I’d had, I’d been woefully unprepared for Cetif’s weather, both the cold and the rain. Shade drones weren’t particularly useful when the wind started to blow water droplets at you sideways.
Kriggler opened the door and headed toward the club’s entrance. I exited after him with Carl bringing up the rear.
With the rain hammering down on our heads, Kriggler pounded on the door and stepped back. After a moment, the door swung open. A big bruiser with a crop of buzzed black hair, probably a meter ninety and a hundred and forty kilos, stomped out.
“There’s a line for a reason, folks. I told you I’d call when—Kriggler? Is that you?” The brute narrowed his eyes.
“In the flesh, Jack,” said Dirk. “Miss me?”
Jack’s face, if that really was his name, darkened. “You’ve got a lot of nerve showing your face here after—”
“Hey, now, that brawl wasn’t my fault and you know it,” said Dirk. “Now, work with me. I need to see Daayan. She in?”
Jack snorted. “In her usual corner.” He lifted a thick finger. “But if I hear even a hint of a shadow of a scuffle—”
“There’ll be hell to pay, I know,” said Kriggler as he pushed past him.
“We’re, uh…with him,” I said, unsure if I really wanted to associate myself with Kriggler.
Jack stared at us, jaw clenched. I hustled forward, thinking I could probably outrun him if push came to shove.
I followed Kriggler inside, down a narrow set of dimly lit stairs and toward a curtain at the bottom. Music thumped rhythmically, becoming louder with each step, the bass notes compressing my chest with their power. The curtain rose and fell, and I stepped into the melee.
Lights pulsed, purples and blues, pinks and yellows, oranges and greens, cycling, rotating, and flashing as they played over a ceiling of glassy metal droplets. People danced and ground to the beat, a psyche
delic repetitive rhythm, some sort of post-traditional fluorescent magneto-dub. The air hung thick and heavy, as much from the dancers’ sweat slicked bodies and volatilized perfume sprays as from the humidity outside.
Kriggler plowed into the crowd, and it took everything I had not to lose him. I plunged in after him, feeling strangers jostle against me, hopefully with platonic intentions. The music flowed, as did we through the crowd. Eventually, the sea parted, and we found ourselves in front of a VIP area, cordoned off by sound-cancelling privacy curtains. Kriggler headed toward one in the back, pushing through without pause. I followed.
Inside the curtains, which cut down the sound of the pulsing beats by a considerable margin, I found a table and padded velvet benches. Two large men with tan skin and thick beards stood at the sides of the entrance. On the bench sat a woman with a slightly lighter complexion, thick eyebrows, smoky eye shadow, and iridescent purple locks held in place by hair sticks.
She blinked. “Dirk Kriggler?”
With lightning-quick speed, she pulled a pulse pistol and aimed it at Dirk. The guards pulled guns, too. Dirk pulled a pair of pistols from inside his own jacket—from where, I wasn’t sure. I figured the police on Cetie had confiscated his gun, but apparently he’d managed to hold onto it and another to boot.
I slowly lifted my hands. “I…uh…guys?”
Kriggler shifted his guns between the two guards and the woman with the purple hair. “Daayan. Good to see you haven’t lost your speed. How have you been?”
The air crackled with anticipation. One of Daayan’s eyes narrowed. I gulped.
With the same speed with which she’d pulled it, Daayan slipped the gun back under the table. Her eyes shot open. “Kriggler! You old son of a gun. Have a seat. Introduce me to your friends.”
I eyed the goons as they returned their pieces to their coats. “Well, friends might be stretching things a—”
“Shut up,” said Kriggler as he holstered his own pulse pistols and took a seat. “This is Rich and his android buddy Carl. They’re investigators from Cetie.”
“Ah, yes,” said Daayan, leaning back and stretching her arms over the edge of the bench. “I’d heard a rumor you’d left us.”
“Heard any other rumors?” he said.
Daayan shrugged. “I have excellent hearing, but my tongue rarely wags. It makes me a poor conversationalist but a superior businesswoman. So what took you to Cetie?”
“Work.” Kriggler eyed me. “Seriously. You heard the lady. Have a seat.”
I nodded, still amazed I’d avoided being shot. I slid onto the bench across from Kriggler, scooting in to give Carl some room.
“So,” said Daayan, turning to me. “You’re in the same line of work as Kriggler? Were you dropped on your head as a small child?”
“If I was, you could blame Carl here,” I said. “For all intents and purposes, he raised me. But in all honesty, it’s not a bad gig. The pay is hit or miss, but the work is fun.”
“You enjoy it then?” asked Daayan.
“Most of the time,” I said. “Depends on the job.”
“That’s great,” said Daayan with a smile. “Now why the hell are you here?”
“I lost my skimmer while in the line of duty,” said Kriggler. “It, uh…fell a few hundred meters and shattered. I was hoping you might be able to provide me with a new one.”
“Happy to help,” said Daayan. “Ten thousand SEUs.”
“Ten thousand?” said Kriggler. “For a skimmer? Are you crazy?”
“I’m not running a charity, here,” said Daayan.
Kriggler snorted. “I’ll give you seven and a half.”
“Ten,” said Daayan. “If you don’t like it, you can buy one from any of the other underworld commodities traders who don’t hate you for previous offenses. Oh… Right. There aren’t any.”
Kriggler grumbled. “Fine. Ten. You own me, though.”
“I really don’t,” said Daayan. “Not after how you stiffed me the last time.”
“Account information?”
Daayan sat there and stared at Kriggler. His eyes flicked. She must’ve sent him the information via Brain.
“Alright,” he said. “We’re good.”
Daayan’s own eyes flicked. “Happy to do business with you.” She nodded to one of the goons. “Raji? A skimmer.”
He nodded and exited through the curtain, letting a burst of rhythmic thumping through in his wake.
“So,” said Daayan. “Are you going to tell me what this is all about? A case that takes you off planet and brings you back with a pair of investigators in tow? Must be something big.”
“It might be,” said Kriggler. “You want to refund me part of my purchase price?”
Daayan sniffed. “I get paid for information, not the other way around. Besides, I thought this could be more of a barter situation. You tell me what you’re into and I tell you what I know that could be of use to you.”
Kriggler gave me a nod. “What do you think?”
Honestly, I was just happy Kriggler hadn’t asked to borrow ten thousand SEUs from me. “Couldn’t hurt. It’s not as if we have much to go on other than that satellite signal.”
“It should be enough.”
“And what if it isn’t?”
Kriggler chewed on his thoughts. He eyed Daayan. “Someone’s funneling funds from Cetie here on a private comm linkage. Government work stipends mostly, but it’s enough to clean out the accounts. Ripped off both of our clients, which is how we met. The perp seems to be targeting folks who die of natural causes and won’t be missed—at least, that’s the theory I’m working off of. I don’t like the alternative.”
Daayan lifted an eyebrow. “When you say funds…how much are we talking about?”
“Quite a bit,” I said. “Kriggler skimmed data from the servenets of the shell corp processing the payments. There’s at least hundreds of accounts. Perhaps thousands. Could total hundreds of thousands of SEUs per month. Depends how long the con has been ongoing.”
Daayan’s brows furrowed. She didn’t say anything.
Kriggler cleared his throat. “This is the part where you chime in with something useful.”
“You’re not going to like it,” said Daayan.
“Try me.”
The woman took a deep breath. “There’ve been rumors circulating of a hacker by the name of Guy Sharp. A pseudonym, undoubtedly. Word is he’s raking SEUs in by the bucketful, but nobody knows how. Nobody’s had their drug, prostitution, or racketeering enterprises impinged upon by a newcomer.”
“How is that bad news?” said Kriggler. “Off planet SEUs could explain all of that.”
“I haven’t gotten to the bad part yet,” said Daayan. “Word also has it Guy’s spending a lot of those SEUs on illicit arms. Apparently, he’s building a private army, but again, there hasn’t been any word of mercenary hires. Perhaps he’s only getting started.”
The goon returned. He held a skimmer out in an oversized hand.
Kriggler took it. “Thanks. Think Dundu might know about this?”
Daayan smirked. “What do you think?”
“Who’s Dundu?” I asked.
“An old friend of mine,” said Kriggler. “The underground sort.”
“You have friends?” said Daayan. “That’s news to me.”
“Hey, you welcomed me with open arms.”
“I figured it would be worth my while,” she said. “And it was. But we’re done now. So kindly remove your ass from my bench and show yourself to the exit.”
“Please,” said Kriggler. “Don’t shed any tears.”
“I’ll do my best. Try not to die.” Daayan eyed me. “You, too. You seem nice enough, which means you’re more likely to croak. Feel free to come by if you need anything. I’m always open for business.”
She gave me a smile, and I wondered if there was any double entendre to that last bit. I’d never been into unnatural hair colors, b
ut the purple worked with her smoky eyes and exotic good looks.
Carl elbowed me in the side, and I moved before I did anything that caused the goons to pull their guns again.
22
The rain had stopped when our car pulled up in front of a narrow storefront, one with a flashy holosign out front proclaiming it to be ‘Dundu’s Novelties and Imports.’ The place next door had been shuttered, and a two meter tall rotating green credit slip advertised a pawn shop across the street.
I exited the cab and followed Kriggler to the shop’s door, which opened upon his approach despite the late hour. I couldn’t help but notice an obvious camera situated above the door, pointed directly at us. It could’ve easily been replaced with a much smaller, more subtle version, but perhaps subtlety wasn’t the point.
A chime sounded, announcing our presence. Inside, I found a wide assortment of wares. Shelves full of delicate porcelain and shiny silverware, colorful accent rugs, pillows, candles, wide wicker chairs, and oil diffusers—not at all what I’d expected given the neighborhood. Several of the candles burned, filling the air with scents of cherry blossoms and mountain dew and sending shadows dancing across the aisles. A counter in the back stood empty.
Carl and I lingered at the front while Kriggler approached the counter, calling out, “Dundu? You here, Dundu?”
Carl leaned in close to me. “I don’t understand why we’re here. Dirk was able to relocate the signal from the satellite array using the skimmer he procured from Daayan. We should be tracking the signal’s origin, not wasting time on unnecessary stops.”
“He also said he’d only be able to narrow the signal’s landing spot to a five kilometer radius,” I said, “which isn’t too bad given the distance between here and Cetie, but that’s not going to be good enough to find this Sharp guy. Or Guy Sharp. Whatever. Either way, I’m guessing there’s a reason for our presence here. Something tells me Dundu isn’t simply a mild-mannered trinket salesman.”
Kriggler had refused to say who or what exactly Dundu was, but if I had to speculate, I would’ve pegged him as another informant, some member of Kriggler’s vast web of eyes and ears, almost friends and pseudo enemies.
