by Tom Dublin
"Me, too," agreed Tc'aarlat. "And some chilled water for Mist, if that's OK?"
The waitress nodded, turning to Dollen. "Sir?"
"I'll stick with something non-alcoholic," Dollen replied. "Do you have anything like that?"
"I'll get you a Coke," smiled the waitress. "Is that everything?"
"Yes thanks, Kirsty," said Nathan.
The group exchanged pleasantries, and chatted about the view of space from the bar's outer window until the waitress returned with the requested drinks, and a range of snacks. She placed a bowl of pistachio nuts in front of Jack, handed Tc'aarlat a platter of drungen chips and dip, Dollen was given cubes of soft, white cheese, and there was even a plate of diced meat for Mist.
"Wait, is that muri flesh?" Tc'aarlat asked as Mist hopped onto the table and began to tear at the chunks of food.
Nathan nodded. "Isn't that what Raal hawks eat in the wild?"
"Yes, but those vile little rodents are a bitch to catch. Most hawk owners have to buy synthetic muri meat and..." Tc'aarlat's voice trailed off as a realization dawned. "You're trying to impress us. I'm guessing Jack has a particular liking for whatever snack he's already digging into."
Jack discarded another pistachio shell onto an already growing pile and popped the nut into his mouth with a nod. Lifting his glass, he took a long drink of his ale, his gaze firmly fixed on Nathan.
Dollen pushed his cheese cubes away from him and sipped at his Coke. "What do you want from us?"
"Can't a man treat the guys who delivered his long-awaited computer servers?" asked Nathan as innocently as he could. "Which reminds me..."
He turned his head and spoke aloud: "Turing, has the cargo been unloaded from the ICS Fortitude yet?"
A voice with a clipped English accent seemed to come from every direction at once, causing Tc'aarlat to peer around the otherwise deserted upper level for hidden speakers.
"Allow me to find that out for you, Nathan."
"Thank you, Turing."
Tc'aarlat's eyes narrowed. "You guys heard that weird disembodied voice as well, right?"
Nathan smiled. "That is the base station's Entity Intelligence, Turing," he explained. "He's in charge of everything from regulating the oxygen supply to arming our weapon defense systems."
"Wise to stay in his good books, then?" quipped Jack.
Turing's voice sounded from the speakers once again. "In answer to your question, yes Nathan. The dock workers finished disembarking Marcus's order a little over 15 minutes ago."
"Good," said Nathan. "Could you please send the entire consignment to be burned in the central furnaces?"
"Of course."
Jack spat out a half-chewed pistachio. "You're burning the computer servers?"
"That's insane!" growled Tc'aarlat.
Dollen took another drink, but remained silent.
"Not really," replied Nathan. "They're not genuine servers. Just shoddy casings filled with used pinball machine parts."
"What?!"
"You'll still get paid," Nathan added.
Jack snarled. "I'm not concerned about the money!"
"I am!" Tc'aarlat interjected.
Jack threw his colleague an angry look, then returned his furious glare back to Nathan. "Do you know what we had to go through to get those things here? We were boarded by Skaine pirates."
"Of course I know," said Nathan, matter of factly. "I was the one who tipped them off as to your location."
Jack sprang to his feet. "You did fucking what?!"
Nathan's expression didn't waver. "I needed to see how you would cope against a dangerous adversary," he explained. "And you will be pleased to hear you passed with flying colors."
Jack almost threw himself across the table, grabbed the front of Nathan's shirt and dragged him to his feet. "First you incinerate our entire consignment, and now you're admitting that you sent a ship full of inbred piss-gargling bistok-fuckers after us," he hissed. "You've got some serious explaining to do, pal!"
Tc'aarlat looked from Nathan to Jack and back again. Even Mist paused, a strip of sinewy muri meat dangling from her beak.
Nathan glanced down at where Jack had hold of his shirt, and back up at his attacker's furious expression. Nathan’s eyes flashed yellow, suggesting Jack was treading on dangerous ground.
"I promise you, it was all for a good cause, and now, if you would be so kind, let go of me."
With a final furious sneer at Nathan, Jack released his shirt, and turned to his shipmates. "Come on," he growled. "We're leaving."
Nodding, Tc'aarlat stood and whistled for Mist to flap back up to his shoulder, which she did without hesitation.
The two men looked towards Dollen as he stood and pushed his right hand deep into the pocket of his jacket.
It was then that Jack noticed the Baloreon's brow was coated with sweat.
"Dollen, what's wrong?"
But Dollen didn't reply. Instead, he unzipped the front of his jacket.
Both Jack and Tc'aarlat stared at their colleague in horror. Strapped to the Baloreon's chest was a home-made bomb.
Federation Base Station 11, Residential Zone 4, Geldings Strip Mall
The exterior of Geldings Strip Mall was in need of a lick of paint.
Adina wandered past a pet store, an engravers and a health food outlet, actively trying to look as though she belonged in the area. She hoped the effort of doing so wasn't making her stand out even more.
Finally, she reached Happy Garden, the all-you-can-eat Chinese buffet near the end of the mall, and turned into the narrow alleyway that ran alongside it.
This is where the voice on the phone had told her to meet him.
"H- Hello?"
A figure stepped out from behind a dumpster. The man was much smaller than Adina had expected; short and skinny to the point of appearing malnourished. He was informally dressed in dark trousers and scuffed boots, and the hood of his jacket was pulled up, causing it to cast a dark shadow across his face. Still, Adina could make out the moist, yellow teeth of her contact's leering smile.
"You the one who called?" he sneered.
Adina nodded, suddenly not as confident as she had been when she had first set off from the nursing home, and she hadn't felt very certain of herself back then.
"Yes," she croaked. "Are you Mosco?"
Mosco Asdale pulled back his hood, revealing a face peppered with acne scars and short greasy hair that looked as though it had been cut towards the end of an all-night drinking session.
With cutlery.
He nodded, his watery eyes lapping up and down her figure. Adina shivered involuntarily and wrapped her arms around herself, making a mental note to take a lengthy shower just as soon as she got back home.
"Where's the old guy?" questioned Mosco. "The one I usually deal with."
"H- He's ill," replied Adina, not wanting to give away too much information. "My uncle won't be able to meet with you any longer."
Mosco's mouth twisted into a wicked smile. "Your uncle?" he cooed, taking a step closer. "So, you're the girl, huh? The girl who doesn't want to be a-"
"Yes," said Adina, interrupting before he could finish his sentence. "That's me. I'm the girl."
She pulled a roll of banknotes from the pocket of her jeans. "Three hundred you said, right?"
The scrawny man shifted his weight onto his left foot and gave an exaggerated sigh. "I wish it was, girly," he said, pulling a mock disappointed face. "I really do. But the price has just gone up."
"Gone up?" exclaimed Adina. "Since when?"
"Since I just decided," Mosco sneered. He reached into the pocket of his hooded jacket and produced a crumpled plastic bag. Inside were scores of tiny black pills, each with a single yellow dot stamped onto one side.
"Six hundred."
Adina felt her eyes sting with tears. "But... But I don't have six hundred," she explained. "I can go to three fifty, maybe three eighty, but that's all I've got."
"Then you don't get the merchand
ise, do you?" said Mosco, turning away.
"Wait!" cried Adina, scurrying after him. "Give me half for three hundred, and I'll get the rest of the money to you next week."
Mosco slowly turned back to face her. "I've got a better idea," he grinned. "You give me everything you've got now, and then you and I can find another way for you to make up the rest of what you owe me..."
He began to advance on her, pulling a knife from his pocket and unfolding the blade from its slot inside the handle. It glinted in the only shaft of sunlight brave enough to extend this far down the alleyway.
"So, what do you say, little girl?" Mosco hissed, a stained tongue flicking back and forth over the chapped skin of his lips. "Do we have a deal?"
Adina backed away, preparing herself to turn and run as soon as she was near to the main street. There hadn't been many shoppers around when she had arrived but, if she could get into one of the nearby stores-
She backed into something solid and stopped dead.
There was someone standing right behind her. Someone large, who clamped a hand down on her shoulder.
"'Ello," grunted a deep voice.
Shit!
Adina closed her eyes and worked to keep her breathing under control
She'd walked straight into a trap.
Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit!
Stupid girl!
Of course, Mosco wouldn't be alone. Of course, he'd have an accomplice ready to bar her escape route. And now the two of them were going to drag her into the shadows and she'd never be heard of again.
She turned her head slightly and glanced over her shoulder. The figure behind her was huge; at least six feet tall, and almost as wide. It felt like she was backed up against an immense, immovable boulder.
The newcomer had cropped hair, an expansive sloping brow, and small dark eyes sunk into sockets so deep they appeared to be nothing more than empty holes leading directly into the depths of the accomplice's skull.
At just under five feet tall, Adina has been teased for her height - or, rather, lack of it - all through her childhood. She'd always been the smallest in her class and, whenever she'd hurried home from school in tears due to a bully's cruel taunts, her uncle had held her close and promised that she would have a sudden growth spurt one day soon.
Now in her late 20s, she was still waiting for that to happen.
The figure behind Adina wrapped its arms around her slender frame, the cheap nylon of its zipped-up jacket rubbing against the back of her head. However, beneath that, she didn't feel the hard chest muscle she was expecting. Instead the flesh was softer, and concentrated in two vast areas of swelling.
Adina's breath caught in her throat.
The assailant holding her from behind was a woman!
Mosco's face was just inches from hers now. She could feel his hot, rancid breath sting her eyes as he flicked open the top button of her blouse with his blade.
"So," he slathered wetly. "Do we have a deal?"
Adina's thoughts flicked back to her Uncle Yousuf, struggling to retain his remaining memories in his single room at the rest home. He'd been dealing with this criminal - and others like him - for years in order to provide her with the medication she required.
Not that any of that mattered now. His illness meant that her only living relative would soon completely forget that he'd ever had a niece.
If Adina was going to walk out of here alive, she was going to have to do something she had promised herself would never happen again.
And it was really going to hurt.
Federation Base Station 11, All Guns Blazing, Lower Level
Aliporta squealed with excitement as her three friends led her, blindfolded, towards a table near the bar.
With just a week to go until her wedding to Graylaw, she had tried to turn down her bridesmaids' offer of a three-day hen party, but their detailed schedule of spa treatments, shopping and long nights drinking had persuaded her to reconsider.
Now, after a morning of manicures, pedicures and all-round pampering, her best friends clearly had some sort of surprise up their collected sleeves. Her fellow Snowbirals had stopped her among the crowds in the busy shopping court and produced a patterned headscarf, which they proceeded to tie over her eyes before moving on.
"You sit here," said Clercarp, guiding her into the chair at the head of the table, "and put this on..."
"Put what on?" asked Aliporta, reaching up to touch whatever had just been placed on her head. Whatever it was, it was made of ornately twisting strips of metal and sat snugly around her horns.
"It's a tiara!" exclaimed another of the girls, clamping a hand over her mouth.
"Dycroft!" cried Loosamul. "It was supposed to be a secret!"
"Oops!" giggled Dycroft. "I couldn't help myself; she just looks so beautiful."
"Let me see then!" said Aliporta, excitedly, reaching up to remove the scarf.
Clercarp grabbed her hands and pushed them back down. "In a moment," she promised. "We just need to get the waiter's attention and order some of that bubbly drink you're always talking about."
"Champagne?" asked Aliporta with a gasp. "It's amazing! Graylaw's family had it imported for his sister's wedding last year."
"That's the stuff," agreed Loosamul.
Aliporta heard footsteps approaching, and then a gruff male voice spoke up. "Welcome to All Guns Blazing. Can I get you ladies something special?"
At that, Clercarp whisked off Aliporta's blindfold. She blinked with both sets of eyelids as her pupils adjusted to the bright lights of the room, her gaze finally focusing on the well-built Shrillexian waiter standing in front of her. For some reason, there was already a bottle of champagne chilling in an ice bucket beside four glasses on the table.
"I thought you still had to order-" she began, before a raucous song began to play from hidden speakers all around the bar. It was an old Earth recording in which the human singer was enticing his 'baby' to slowly remove her coat, dress and shoes - although he was still allowing her to 'keep her hat on' for some unknown reason.
Then the waiter began to dance seductively and unbutton his crisp white shirt!
Aliporta's normally cerise pink skin flushed a deep fuchsia color, and she covered her eyes with her hands as her friends cheered and clapped.
"I said no strippers!" she shrieked, peeking at the Shrillexian through her fingers as he tore open the rest of his shirt, sending the few remaining buttons pinging off the champagne flutes.
"Since when did we ever listen to you?" laughed Clercarp, whistling loudly as the stripping waiter grabbed the bride's wrists, pulled her hands from her face and pressed them against the thick, leathery skin of his chest.
The Shrillexian pumped his pecs beneath Aliporta's perspiring palms, then dropped his own hands and began to unbutton his pants.
Aliporta squealed as he pushed the trousers down. She screwed her eyes closed, and stomped her feet repeatedly.
She screamed with excitement, but her shrieks of joy were quickly drowned out by the screams of terrified patrons running for their lives.
5
Federation Base Station 11, Residential Zone 7, Sycamore Block
Adina entered her apartment, ensured the door was locked behind her, then tossed her keys into a metal bowl on the table in the hallway.
The flat was silent, just as it had been ever since her roommate had left to move in with her new boyfriend. Adina sighed at the memory of Tracey's excited voice as she announced news of her sudden engagement to Rocky.
Rocky! Who the hell calls their kid Rocky?
Even worse, the name totally suited him. Rocky looked - and acted - like a troll trying to pass himself off as a human. A former member of a high school gang, the guy considered himself a genuine 'bad boy', and hadn't let his poor education stop him from decorating his body with a range of self-administered tattoos.
Tracey had sulked for almost a week when Adina had pointed out that, according to the home-inked letters adorning Rocky's kn
uckles, the big goon was admitting to L-O-V-E H-A-T-S.
Now Tracey was gone and the soul had been drained from the apartment, which was probably just as well. Adina knew her friend would demand to know why she was returning home with blood splashed across her face and clothes.
She'd only been allowed on the tram after convincing the driver that she had been tending to a work colleague who suffered from severe nose bleeds.
She pulled the bag of black and yellow pills from her pocket and held them up to the light.
Selecting one, she popped it into her mouth. Then she opened the refrigerator, grabbed a bottle of water and twisted off the top. One big gulp later, and the medicine was gone.
Dumping the rest of the pills on the kitchen counter, she discarded her jacket and peeled off her shirt as she made her way towards the bathroom and her shower.
On the way, she grabbed a trash bag from the closet where she kept her cleaning supplies and stuffed the items of soiled clothing inside, making a mental note to keep them separate from the rest of her weekly laundry.
And, if the blood stains didn't come out in the wash, to destroy the evidence in a way that couldn't be traced back to her. The jacket, shirt, pants...
"Don't forget the soles of your shoes," said a voice as if someone was reading her thoughts.
Adina spun around as a lamp flicked on to reveal a woman with long blonde hair sitting on the sofa.
"Ecaterina?!"
"Your shoes," Ecaterina repeated. "Even if you manage to get all of the blood out of your clothing, you're likely to have traces lodged in the tread patterns of the soles. Especially as you walked through a pool of it on your way out of the alley."
Adina stared, seemingly unconcerned that, aside from her bra, she was naked from the waist up. "What are you talking about?"
Ecaterina pulled a small tablet from inside her coat, tapped on the screen and held it out. Adina's heart pounded as she watched video footage of herself leaving the alleyway she had visited earlier that afternoon.
"But, there... There weren't any..."
"Security cameras," finished Ecaterina. "Yeah, I know. This was taken by a drone a hundred feet or so above you. We have a team recovering the bodies you dragged behind the dumpster before you fled the scene."
