by Edward Zajac
“Really?”
“Yep,” said Zagarat, nodding. “He feels awful about the whole thing.”
“Do you know how much that trip cost me?” she said. Evidently, the question was rhetorical because Elyta continued before Zag could answer. “That vacation cost me three week’s wages. Not to mention, the hundreds of credits I spent on clothes and lingerie.”
Zagarat tried his best not to imagine her in various types of lingerie and found it extremely hard… No, no. Difficult. Difficult.
“That’s… that’s deplorable,” said Zagarat. “In fact, that’s one of the reasons he came here, to reimburse you for your expenses.”
“What?” Fletcher shrieked from the corridor.
“And how is he going to reimburse me for that little stunt in the hotel room?”
“I didn’t tell you to shackle yourself to the bed!” yelled Fletcher.
“I wanted to surprise you!” yelled Elyta back at him. “I was stuck on that bed for four hours, wearing nothing but whipped Solian cream and a few strategically placed pieces of fruit before the cleaning crew finally found me. Can you imagine that?”
“Yes,” said Zagarat, lost in the splendor of his own imagination. “Yes, I can.”
Elyta frowned, reaching out for another plastiglass mug.
“Sorry,” said Zagarat. “Sorry.”
She continued. “By the end, I had Carron ants crawling all over my body.”
Fletcher poked his head inside. “Well, then technically you weren’t all alone, were you?”
Elyta grabbed a mug from the counter and tossed it at Fletcher in one fluid motion. It sailed through and would have surely struck Fletcher if he weren’t so agile.
Zagarat glanced down at the plastisheet name plaque on the counter. “Ms. Tay, I know what he did was deplorable…”
“Well, how was I to know that she had shackled herself to the bed?” said Fletcher. “I wouldn’t have left if I knew she was going to do that.”
“Would you shut up?!” exclaimed Zagarat. He tugged on his coat, composing himself. “I know what he did was deplorable, but, um, he had no choice. He had to leave.”
“Really?” said Elyta, her voice laden with doubt. “And why is that?”
Zagarat glanced back towards the door. Fletcher poked his head inside, threw his hands in the air, shrugging, and then ducked back out again.
Suns. This was all resting on his shoulders. They were so screwed.
“Because,” said Zagarat, searching his mental database for a because file, only to find a Huru Mediation error in his coding. “Because he was scared of his feelings for you.”
Elyta’s stern expression softened. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, he was feeling something and that scared him. After all, you are as resplendent as a solar flare while he’s nothing more than a useless privateer unworthy of your love.”
“Hey!” exclaimed Fletcher.
“Oh,” squeaked Elyta, holding her hands to her mouth. “He was falling in love with me?”
Zag puckered his lips. “You could infer that from what I said.”
“Oh,” she squeaked again. Fletcher poked his head inside and Elyta squealed with delight. “Come over here, you silly privateer. Was that all really true?”
Fletcher made a cute, lovey-dovey face which made Zag squirm in embarrassment on behalf of all sentient males everywhere. “Would I lie to you?” he said sweetly.
“Ooh, my Fletchy Wetchy,” she said, running into his arms. Well, into his embrace. Running into his arms would have been far more painful.
“Oh, my Elyta Meeta,” said Fletcher, pulling her in close.
“I’m so sorry for throwing things at you,” she said, kissing her way down his neck.
“And I’m sorry I left you all alone on that planet,” said Fletcher, taking off his coat.
Wait. Taking off his coat?
“That’s okay,” said Elyta, unfastening her blouse. “I completely understand.”
“Um, Ms. Tay,” said Zagarat, nervously. “Uh, Fletcher.”
With one hand Fletcher reached inside Elyta’s blouse and unclasped her bra with preternatural ease while with his other hand he pulled Zag towards the door.
“Thank you so much for your help,” said Fletcher as Elyta kissed her way down his chest, all the way down to his… Oh, wow.
The doors slid closed an inch from Zagarat’s face. The normally clear glass suddenly turned opaque as a sign appeared in the middle of the door. The office will be closed for the next fifteen minutes. Thank you for dealing with the Magi Corporation.
Then the lights in the office suddenly went black.
agarat stood outside the Magi offices, leaning hard against a plasticene wall. He glanced down at his PCD, just as he had every five minutes since Fletcher and Elyta began… making up. Fifteen minutes had become a half hour nearly forty-five minutes ago.
What could they possibly still be doing in there? After all, five minutes was plenty of time to do the essentials, including disrobing, robing again, and apologizing profusely.
Anything more than that was just showing off. Wasn’t it?
Zag thought about it for a moment then decided it was a good thing that only the angel and devil on his shoulders could hear his thoughts. They were unlikely to reveal his secrets, not until their tell-all biography, AND I DIDN’T TELL YOU THE WORST PART YET.
Finally, the lights in the office turned back on and the doors slid open. Fletcher Griffin emerged soon after, happiness beaming from every aspect of his being.
“Come on in. Elyta’s just fixing herself up.”
“I hate you,” said Zagarat morosely.
“Oh, stop it,” said Fletcher. “You would have done the same thing in my boots. And trust me, I kept my boots on the entire time.”
“Hate you,” Zagarat muttered under his breath as he walked inside.
“Okay, okay,” said Fletcher apologetically. “I admit that wasn’t exactly fair. But you did a hell of a job. I wouldn’t have done half as well on my own.”
“It seemed like you were doing just fine from out there,” said Zagarat.
“Yeah,” said Fletcher, grinning. “Elyta always was a screamer.”
“Hate you,” Zagarat grumbled.
Elyta exited a nearby room, dressed in an entirely new wardrobe. It was what the corporate world called business chic. She wore a plain grey skirt that hugged her body, but not in a prurient sort of way, an equally staid grey blazer, and a pair of sturdy boots that were definitely made for comfort; not to emphasize any part of her leg, thank you very much.
She sat down at her console, her hands dancing across the plastiglass surface. Within moments, the main entrance door slid to a close. She then sat back in her chair. “So, I take it there was something else you wanted before…” She smiled coyly. “You know.”
“Yes,” said Fletcher. “Yes, there was.”
She stared expectantly at Fletcher. Well, hopefully not expectantly. One of them must have used birth protection of some kind. Besides, Meyons could only conceive during the Meyon Sotumnal, which was right about…
Zag glanced at his PCD. Uh-oh.
“I kind of need your help with something,” said Fletcher, looking appropriately embarrassed. “Something that’s kind of against corporate policy.”
“And what would that be?” said Elyta, coldly.
“Wellllll,” said Fletcher. “I kind of need to access the Magi wave gate records.”
“Thank you for coming,” said Elyta dismissively, turning back to her console. “Goodbye.”
“But this is really important,” said Fletcher. “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t. In fact, that was the reason I left you on Ursa Minor. I got a huge lead on this case and I had to act quickly.”
“It is really important,” added Zagarat.
Elyta’s eyes darted back and forth between them, but she still looked unconvinced.
Fletcher pouted his lips, flashing his blue eyes at Elyta. “Pleas
e,” he said, wrapping his arms about her waist as he kissed the back of her neck. “Please, my Elyta Meeta.”
Zagarat’s first instinct was to roll his eyes in disgust. But then he noticed Elyta squirm pleasantly in Fletcher’s embrace and stopped his reaction mid-roll.
“I can’t,” said Elyta, with playful reluctance. “Magi would kill me if they found out.”
Magi, thought Zagarat. That was it.
“But this might hurt the Deus Syndicate,” Zagarat blurted out.
Elyta’s head whipped around. “This might screw over those bastards?” she said.
“Oh, yeah,” said Fletcher. “This might cost them millions of credits.”
Her eyes suddenly blazed like solar flares. “Fine.” She pointed at Fletcher. “But if I get in any trouble for this…”
“You could totally blame us,” said Fletcher, holding ups hands. “You could say we forced the information out of you. Zag here will even hit you if you need a bruise as proof.”
She turned. “You would hit a woman?” she said, looking and sounding aghast.
“What? No, I would never…” Zagarat turned towards Fletcher. “Why would you…”
Fletcher made an apologetic face, but said nothing.
“Unbelievable,” said Elyta, casting Zag a recriminating glance as she logged into her account.
Zagarat watched her every move. “That’s not a very secure system,” he mused aloud.
“Shut up,” said Fletcher through his teeth.
“I’m just saying that any idiot could hack into…”
“Shut up, shut up, shut up,” said Fletcher quickly before flashing Elyta his comely smile.
Although, to be honest, Zagarat really had no idea what kind of smile Fletcher normally flashed whenever he… Never mind.
“All right,” said Elyta, sitting back in her chair. “What do you need?”
“I need to find the Wave Gate usages of a Deus employee. Her name is Xena Xa.”
Elyta worked her digital magic. “I have a Xena Xa from Mayoo here. She travelled on thirteen Magi flights in the last fiscal year. Each trip was through the Mayoo gate, arriving at the Ma’na’wee Hospital. She booked a return flight fifteen days later. It was the same thing each time.”
“Did the ship ever skip out of the wave or stop anywhere else along the way?”
“If it did, we’d have some record of it here. For obvious reasons, Magi makes it quite difficult to forge commercial flight information.” Elyta searched the database, then shook her head. “I don’t see any sign of it here. Everything looks legitimate. Sorry.”
“Damn,” said Fletcher, slamming his fist against the counter.
“Was there anything else?” asked Elyta. “Because I really need to get back to work.”
“No,” said Fletcher, kissing her on the forehead. “You’ve done more than I could have possibly dreamed. Thank you. Maybe we could have dinner when I’m done with this case.”
“I’d like that,” said Elyta, dragging her finger down his coat. “I think I could still find that whipped cream dress somewhere around here.”
“I can’t wait,” said Fletcher, chomping his teeth as he barked at her.
“It was nice meeting you,” said Zagarat, holding up his hand.
Elyta merely waggled her head from side to side. “I can’t believe you would hit a woman.”
“He said… I would never… why would you…”
Finally, Zagarat just gave up and sighed.
Ah, neuroses. His lifelong friends.
Zag met Fletcher outside in the thoroughfare. “Why did you tell her I hit women?”
“I never said that,” said Fletcher. “Besides, we both know you wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
“Yeah, I know that,” said Zagarat, driving past mania, turning hard at hysteria, and throttling the accelerator towards delirium. “And you know that. But she doesn’t know that.”
“Would you stop worrying about what other people think?” Zag grumbled under his breath. “Fine. If it’ll make you feel any better, I’ll tell her the truth next time I see her.”
“Thank you,” said Zag. “So, what do we do now?”
“We find out what ship Xa took from the hospital.”
“Hmm,” said Zagarat as he considered the idea. “I think I might be able to help there.”
agarat wanted to log into the local nexus from Grey Sector but Fletcher quickly put an end to that. According to him, that was a good way to get yourself killed. If you were lucky.
After all, you don’t actually need all those organs, now do you? Some sentients live long, happy lives with artificial ones, so why shouldn’t you? Unless you’re too good for that? Huh? You selfish bastard. I’ll teach you humility.
Moments later, you are a heap of flesh splayed out on the floor. And yet to the denizens of Grey Sector you look like nothing more than an abandoned hovercraft.
And that is when they descend.
The first few mechanics take a few extraneous parts like your wallet, credslips, PCD; just enough to make a tidy profit. All the while their cronies hover about with an overt nonchalance that nearly screams that something nefarious is going on.
When the owner never returns to claim his ride, the next wave of salvagers swarm in and cannibalize the guts of the machine. The heart, lungs, kidney, and a few other appendages that are evidently delicacies on Ultera Proxima but are very much an acquired taste. The headlights are knocked out. The rear end and hood are smashed in just for the sake of being smashed.
In no time at all, no one can even recognize the make and model of this heap of flesh. All they see is another fleshy eyesore jacked up on an operating table and beginning to smell.
“And that’s if you’re lucky,” said Fletcher. “The alternatives are even more gruesome.”
They made their way back to alpha sector and settled down in a local hotspot, “What’s Brew with You?” where Zag ordered himself a Dorian Cocoa with marshmallows. And of course he wanted whipped cream on top. Who doesn’t?
Moments later, a plastiglass dome in the middle of the table folded away, revealing a tall plastiglass mug. The sight evoked the poet in Zag.
A billowy white wave of ethereal whipped cream rested atop a russet sea of chocolaty goodness. Tiny white marshmallows rose and fell like buoys in a chocolate sea as the drink crested Zag’s lips and made landfall on his anxious tongue.
And Mr. Me-eh said Zag couldn’t write poetry. Ha.
Unfortunately, while the drink looked absolutely delicious, it didn’t taste delicious. It was cloyingly sweet, with little to no chocolate flavor whatsoever. But the mouth-feel was absolutely sumptuous; light and ethereal, like a lactose cloud coating every inch of his tongue.
If only they took such care with their chocolate, Zag might have recommended them to the DoCocoa board for evaluation. But they weren’t there yet.
Zagarat placed his mug on the table and activated the Sunset prog on his PCD. It was a scripting program based on Ayli Emmit’s highly successful Stardust prog, which Ayli had used to take down the Magi Corporation’s network on Dualli. Ayli was rewarded for his efforts with a two year sentence in prison and then a ten year sentence working for Magi, making over one million credits every fiscal year. He was subsequently fired when he complained about the harsh conditions he had endured in that awful cell. And prison wasn’t fun either.
To Zag’s astonishment, he was able to hack into the Magi database on his very first try. He knew it was possible, of course. After all, he’d seen Elyta use a three point Viewport authentication to access her profile and Viewport was riddled with more holes that Ilorken cheese after a family of rats had moved into the area. But it was still way too easy.
Didn’t any techs take pride in their work anymore? By now, Magi should have kicked him off their network and sent him at least three tacit death threats. And plenty more overt death threats. That was Tech 101.
But here and now, nothing.
“What are you doing?” asked Fl
etcher eventually, as if allergic to the silence.
“You don’t want to know,” said Zagarat. Suns, he didn’t even want to know and he was the one doing it.
“Why?” whispered Fletcher. “Is it dangerous? Should I be on guard?”
“It wouldn’t hurt,” said Zagarat, his fingers dancing across the projected keyboard.
“Wait,” said Fletcher, leaning in close. “Are you trying to hack into the Magi database?”
“Oh, no, no, no,” said Zagarat, dismissively. “I’m already inside.”
“All ready?” said Fletcher. “It was that easy?”
“Scary, isn’t it?” Zagarat took a sip of his cocoa. It might not have been perfect, but it was still Dorian Cocoa. “I did a little research on our way through alpha sector. The treatments for Peipen Syndrome usually only take a few days to administer. But Xena usually requests fifteen sick days. Granted, the trip there and back probably takes about a day total, but that still leaves about twelve days unaccounted for. The perfect time to get some work done, don’t you think?”
“Sounds it,” said Fletcher.
“So I started thinking,” continued Zagarat. “She wouldn’t be able to do any real work from the hospital, which means she probably travels somewhere else. And that’s how we catch her.”
“How?” asked Fletcher. “She could have slipped unseen onto any ship.”
“I don’t think so,” said Zagarat. “She’d have to travel with someone she trusted or the whole thing could go supernova on her. So, I just have to search the Wave Gate transit logs for any other ships that travelled through the wave gate in that same period of time.”
“You can do that?” asked Fletcher.
“Doing it right now.”
“That’s sunning awesome,” said Fletcher. “How much time do you need?”
“I’m working as fast as I can,” said Zagarat. “I don’t want to be in their d-base any longer than I have to.” Zag bit his lip as he sorted through the information. “There are five ships that travelled through the gate within three days of her arrival.” He frowned. “But they didn’t return.” He jerked his head up, his frown quickly flipping upside down. “However, another three ships docked with the hospital four days after she arrived for her treatment. And it was from the same medical waste transportation company. A subcontracted group called TFP Movers.” Zag slammed his fist on the table. “That’s how she does it. She arrives at the hospital, maybe has treatments, maybe she doesn’t, then hitches a ride with them. It’s brilliant.”
