“You sack of phurra!” Dh’oug screamed from the door, blood streaming from the cut on his forehead and a Xeno popgun in his hand. I jerked around, surprised. I was so fixated on browbeating Yarrow I had lost track of my surroundings, a mistake that stood a very good chance of getting me killed.
“You put up the money, said the station would provide the perfect cover. You said we were all in this together! Then the first chance you get, you sell me down the river to some stinking human!” Dh’oug yanked the trigger, his plastic toy tossing out a sizzling plasma ball. I dived behind the nearest server stack, but Yarrow wasn’t as fast or as smart. The shot caught him right in the schnozz, upraised hands doing little to slow things down. The plasma zipped right through, vaporizing everything in the way including the plastic bag of Wicked Yellow I had paid good money for. Another plasma ball ripped past, splitting an unlucky control board in half. I leaned out and returned fire, Roosevelt roaring painfully loud in the small space. I fired twice more, ignoring the ringing in my ears. The third shot must have hit something important because I heard a yelp and a curse, followed by a clatter of plastic and running feet. I peeked out and the reason for both noises became apparent, Dh’oug’s plasma gun was jumping around on the floor and spitting sparks through a hole in its side courtesy of one of Roosevelt’s bullets.
I turned away as quickly as I could, the toy’s containment field letting go with a blinding flash and a thunderclap, whiting out the room and making my ears ring. I rolled over, coughing, Roosevelt coming out of my hand and sliding somewhere across the floor. Acid smoke filled my nose, something on fire if the alarms beeping away were any indication. I patted myself, checking to make sure it wasn’t me and that all my parts were where they were supposed to be.
I blinked and blinked again.
I couldn’t see.
Chapter 18
I
staggered to my feet, hands reaching out for anything to grab onto. My searching fingers found something sharp and let go with a curse, palm stinging. I tried again and had more luck, fumbling my way around the room. My coat caught on something and I stumbled, tearing it free. I had no idea where my hat had landed, probably next to Roosevelt. They might as well be back at the safe house for all the good they were doing me.
“Bob?” I called out, a rattling noise off to my right catching my attention. I held onto the edge of the workstation and felt my way around. “Keep making noise, I’ll find you.” Holding my arms out I felt with my hands making my way towards the sound. Console. Console. Chair. I pushed it aside and padded my hand down to what felt like a drawer, the front bent inwards. I jerked hard on it and it popped open, cracking me painfully in the hip. Another bruise to add to my growing collection.
“Jazz!” Bob exclaimed. What felt like warm jello trickled over my hand. “I heard you talking and then a lot of explosions and something hit the drawer I was hiding in and broke it. Oh, wow is that Yarrow the Station Manager? He doesn’t look so good. What happened? Why are you looking at me like that? What’s wrong with you?” Something warm and squishy brushed my face. I reached up to grab it and missed.
“I can’t see,” I said sourly. “Dh’oug’s gun malfunctioned and blew up in my face.” I blinked again, the white field before me now speckled with black spots. “It’s getting better, but you’ll have to guide me out of here. Can you find my gun and my hat?” I asked. I held onto the drawer while Bob crawled around the room, talking the entire time.
“So, they were in it together, the three of them? Maybe you should have bought more Wicked Yellow and spiked all their drinks instead of just Moh'na’s. Did you think I did a good improvising like you told me to? I think I did a good job. Hey, I found your gun! Your hat looks like someone set it on fire, I’d get a new one if I were you. Oh, you can’t see, wait a second.” A slithering sound came closer and for an insane moment I thought a snake had joined the party and then rubbery flesh gripped my hand. I let myself be dragged away from the drawer and stumbled forward, my foot kicking something hard and metallic sounding. I bent down and pawed at the ground, fingers closing around my oldest friend. I stood back up with a sigh of relief, ejecting the magazine by touch and counting the remaining bullets with my thumb. Eight, plus one in the pipe. Reseating the magazine, I set the safety and put Roosevelt away.
“Thanks. Now do you think you can find a way out of here?” I asked, turning around and trying to find the door by smell and luck.
“Sure,” Bob said, grabbing my hand again. “But it’s this way,” she added, turning me back the way I had been facing. She tugged and I took a step forward, planting my foot on something squishy. “Ow!” Bob yelped, letting go and yanking a now flat part of her body out from under my boot. “Watch where you’re walking, two legs!”
“I can’t,” I snarled, feeling helpless. I highly recommend being blind, it helps build character. And lumps.
“Oh yeah, I forgot. Let me try something.” Rubbery jello grabbed back onto my hand and flowed up my arm, under my coat and towards my neck.
“Hey! What are you doing, hey!” I said, twisting around.
“Relax, we did this once before,” Bob said, muffled voice coming from somewhere around my left armpit. I squirmed, tiny hairs or whatever she was using to propel herself tickling my bare skin. “Quit moving around so much. There we go, how’s this?” Bob asked, her voice now in stereo, one mouth for each ear. “Just like old times.”
I twisted back and forth, the extra layer of Xeno flesh between me and my clothing restricting my movements slightly. “Okay, I guess,” I said. Bob’s body shifted slightly each time I turned, the sensation distinctly odd but not unpleasant. “Just don’t start purring,” I warned.
“Like this?” Bob asked, her body vibrating slightly.
“Stop it!” I ordered, wishing my eyesight would recover faster so I could get rid of my blobby hitchhiker. Tiny sparkles flickered on and off, which gave me hope that things would get better soon.
“Sorry,” Bob apologized. “I didn’t know it would upset you. Is that why you’re all warm suddenly?”
“Yeah, that’s the reason,” I lied, covering up my embarrassment. How do you tell a sentient being having them close and personal felt nice because it reminded you of a domesticated feline? Hey Bob, mind if I comb your fur and give you some yarn to play with? Let me put this little bell around your neck, that’s so cute. I coughed to change the subject and pushed thoughts of blue kittens and balls of string out of my mind. “Okay, you’re driving. Which way?”
Chapter 19
B
ob guided me out of the destroyed server room, leaving Yarrow the dead station manager and his now much reduced nose behind. Flashes at the edge of my vision pulsed randomly, my eyesight slowly coming back.
“Is that blood?” Bob asked, nudging me to turn to my left. “Oh, sorry. Forgot again.”
I ignored the oversight and said, “Pretty sure I wounded Dh’oug when he dropped his pistol. Follow it, maybe we can find out where he went.” Bob did so, leading us down a series of twists and turns which left me completely confused as to where we were. My eyesight was making steady progress, each watery blink bringing back more and more.
“I think he went in there,” Bob said. I reached out for a fuzzy rectangle and felt for a doorknob. I opened it slowly, the sound of scraping metal reaching my ears.
“Shh,” I whispered, holding still and listening. I was trying to prove the theory that blind people have better hearing and failing miserably.
“You smell nice,” Bob blurted out, apparently unable to stand the silence.
“Thanks, you do too,” I replied without thinking, kicking myself at how stupid it sounded. “Now be quiet and listen.”
The scraping sound stopped, and I heard a voice muttering something. I couldn’t be sure, but it sounded like Dh’oug, which was good enough for me.
I burst through the door, drawing Roosevelt at the same time. Nobody. I moved as quickly and as quietly as I could, listen
ing hard. Bob’s extra bulk made my movements a bit stiff, but I didn’t want to spend the time letting her go. My vision was starting to get better, colors and details seeping in but still fuzzy. I recognized where we were at, the main studio where Moh’na had revealed all under Bob’s tutelage, helped along by a small dose of batch fifty-one to make her compliant. Some drops of pink Xeno blood stood out in the emergency lighting, staining the floor and leading off past silent cameras.
Speaking of Moh’na, it looked like she was still there, lying on the floor next to the news desk. I moved over to her cautiously, senses straining, nose picking up the smell of burnt meat. My eyesight wasn’t fully back yet, but I didn’t think she was the source. A careful touch with my free hand confirmed she was dead and not just asleep.
“Strangled?” I asked more to myself than anything. Bob snaked a tentacle out and floated an eyespot over the body.
“I think so,” she said. The tentacle swiveled to one side. “But I don’t think he was.”
I made my way over to a body I hadn’t noticed before. The boxy Yelmex security guard was the source of the burning smell, a cauterized hole in his chest. An empty belt holster indicated where Dh’oug had gotten his plasma gun from in the first place. I knew where that one wound up, but it was safe to assume he had found another in the meantime.
“C’mon Dh’oug, show yourself!” I called out, crouching and crab walking past the cameras. I could hear movement somewhere but couldn’t locate the source. A tapping sensation on my left shoulder preceded Bob pointing a tentacle towards a set of wall panels, one of them smeared with pink blood and hanging loose. I nodded and moved forwards, talking loudly at the same time.
“Couldn’t leave without Yarrow’s stash, could you Dh’oug? Good idea, you’re gonna need it, the way things have been going. You might have to invest in some plastic surgery, little chin tuck, maybe tighten up those wrinkles while you’re at it. Not like you’re gonna be able to show your face on the holovid any time soon, after it’s been splashed around the city all evening. Did you know Channel Four is running back to back coverage on you? Special broadcasts, exclusive interviews, lots of commentary,” I lied outrageously. It was a bad habit I was trying to break and not having much luck achieving. “Only a matter of time before they or someone else digs up Inzae-5 and what you did there,” I said, making a wild guess.
“I didn’t do anything,” Dh’oug’s voice came from somewhere to my right. I crept towards it, keeping to the shadows as best I could and still talking. Bob flexed a warning before I ran into a stanchion and added to my collection of bruises, vision not fully recovered yet. I made a mental note to buy her a big cup of salted fish-and-mango flavored caff later.
“Sure, you didn’t. It’s always someone else’s fault. You play your tune, and everyone dances along behind.” A scraping noise, something heavy being dragged. I followed it. “So, what if a bunch of idiot kids got brain damage? You didn’t make them take the stuff, just manipulated them so they would. Then when Kaheck bragged he was adding pure Holmium to the mix you probably crapped yourself, history repeating itself all over again. Only this time your hands aren’t as clean, no anonymous message boards to hide behind. A big hole in the ground and a lot of people in the morgue proves it.”
“That was Moh’na’s idea, not mine!” Dh’oug said angrily, not really denying any of it. He sounded closer.
“Not the way she told it. Just enough Holmium in batch fifty-one to keep her pliant but not enough to tip her over the edge like the kids on Inzae-5. Which is why you had to kill her the old-fashioned way. Bet that felt good, didn’t it? Your hands around her throat, squeezing, watching her life drain away. Watching those eyes go dim, the same eyes you used to look into after getting all sweaty and stinky together after a long day at the office.”
“Shut up!” Dh’oug raged, voice loud enough I figured he was no more than twenty meters away. Bob squeezed my shoulder and pointed a tentacle. A trail of pink blood and drag marks led to a wooden box stenciled with black Xeno lettering. Dh’oug was crouched beside it, fussing with a large plastic container, a plasma gun resting on top.
“Hey there Dh’ougy boy,” I said cheerfully, pointing Roosevelt at him. “What’cha got in the box?”
Dh’oug looked up, surprised. Slowly, he stood up, hands away from his body. One hand had a crude bandage wound around it, stained pink and dripping. He licked his lips, head jerking left and right. “Look, we can make a deal.”
I moved closer, my vision better but not perfect yet. “What kind of deal?” I asked, ignoring an angry poke from Bob.
“I’ll split it with you, sixty-forty. Cash and drugs. The last of fifty-one, people will pay like crazy for it. Find the right cook and you can duplicate it, start making your own.”
“Hmm. That does sound like a good deal. But tell you what, how’s about instead I shoot you right here and now and just take it all?” I said, thumbing the hammer back on Roosevelt and stepping closer. “Or, if you don’t like that, I can let the cops arrest you and you can take your chances in court. Your choice.” No angry poke this time, which I took for Bob’s approval.
Dh’oug’s head jerked left, his lips twisting. “Seventy-thirty,” he said, bumping the offer up. I ignored it and took another step, close enough to see the container Dh’oug had been dragging around was missing a wheel. Must have been fun, hauling it around with only one good hand.
“Move away from the gun, Dh’oug,” I ordered, the Xeno plasma thrower still resting on top of the case and too close for my comfort. Dh’oug jerked his head back and forth again and ignored my command. Instead he edged right up next to it, hands drifting downwards.
“Not gonna tell you again,” I said, taking the safety off Roosevelt. “Move away or I’m gonna put a hole in you big enough to fly a starship through.” At this range I couldn’t miss, even with my battered eyes straining to see in the limited light. Dh’oug twitched but kept jerking his head back and forth, looking for a way out that didn’t involve prison time or the morgue.
The space demons must have been paying attention, because right at that moment the power came back on, and along with it, all the lights in the studio, blinding me again.
Chapter 20
“J
azz, look out!” Bob yelled into both my ears at once.
I mashed the gun’s trigger by reflex and lunged to one side blindly, Roosevelt voicing his opinion loudly, the shot warbling off something metallic. A sizzling ball of plasma hit the ground right next to me, splashing hot fire and ozone everywhere.
Bob screamed, either from terror or because I was squashing her. I rolled to my feet and fired again, eyesight watering but coming back faster than before. Tinkling glass told me I had just killed a camera, several thousand credits worth of precision optics reduced to scrap. Another plasma shot from Dh’oung’s toy gun careened towards me, less sizzly but still just as deadly. I ignored it and focused, running off a trio of shots as fast as I could, aiming at a blurry Dh’oung hiding behind his precious crate of goodies. A yellow fountain of dust erupted, obscuring the view. Dh’oug screamed in rage, shooting through it, each shot weaker than the previous. I squinted and pulled the trigger, Roosevelt’s heavy round hit the box at Dh’oug’s feet and blew a king’s ransom worth of credits across the room.
Plasma hissed past my ear, weak and wobbly, close enough to touch. I stomped forwards, holding my breath the best I could, ignoring the cloud of Wicked Yellow and the popgun Dh’oug was waving around, trying to recharge the space-damned thing before I could reach him. I made it before he did, ripping the plasma thrower away and backhanding him across the floor, the reporter sliding to a halt under a camera pod.
“Where’d you get this from?” I demanded, my head throbbing, pressure building just behind my eyes. I crushed the plastic gun under my foot, wiping crusty yellow snot away from my nose. “Another security guard? Hidden with the drugs and money? Forget it, doesn’t matter. What do you think we should do with him, Bob? Bob
?” I felt something slide down my back, I reached up and felt a gaping hole in my coat. One of the plasma bursts had gotten lucky and connected, only to be stopped by a layer of blobby blue flesh. I hadn’t noticed at the time, too focused on the brief firefight to pay attention to the little things like high energy plasma smacking into me.
I holstered my weapon and ripped off my coat, gathering up Bob who was slowly unraveling in front of my eyes. “Hey, hey, hang in there, kiddo. They got the power back on; Emergency Services will be here soon.”
“Jazz,” Bob said weakly, one black eye spot rolling up to look at me, the others listless and gray. “Jazz, I’m cold.”
“Shh, it’s gonna be ok. Zam said you guys are really tough. Hang in there, we’ll get you some soup, maybe a fish-and-mango caff or two. You’ll be right as rain in no time.” The edges of Bob’s flesh were white and flaky, color bleeding out along with the rest of her.
“Thanks Jazz. You’re a good friend. Hey. Jazz? You want to know something?”
“Sure Bob, tell me. I’m right here tell me whatever you want,” I said, trying to hold Bob’s leaking body together with my bare hands. It smelled sweet and spicy, like honey and sea salt and a warm summer day.
“I had fun,” Bob said, her remaining eye going gray and sliding down. The blob’s blue tint faded as she flowed through my hands, rubbery jello sagging into my coat. I held the pieces together the best I could, wrapping my ruined coat around her and pulling out my phone at the same time. The ragged hole in the fabric matched the one in my heart, a Bob-shaped blob that had somehow forced its way inside over the last few days. I dialed without looking, three short digits. I remembered what Zam said, how Bob’s species could survive by hibernating. I hoped it was true, because I didn’t know what I was going to do if it wasn’t.
Sour Notes Page 10
