This Work Is Part Of A Series (The Messenger Archive Book 2)

by DC Bastien

  [Ashroe: Tell me something happy.]

  [Sianor: Oh... I'm on track to graduate with honors. Oops. 'Honours'. Just a few credits away.]

  [Ashroe: Oh, cool. I got too drunk at uni to do as well as I should. Guess I haven't changed.]

  [Sianor: So... I'm going to try to get a work from home job. I think I could probably do proofing from home.]

  [Ashroe: Yes, no office politics then. God, that's so draining. Talking nicely. I mean, I like a lot of them, I do, but when they start bitch-fighting about the milk...]

  [Sianor: Milk?]

  [Ashroe: For coffee. And who doesn't bring it in. There's a kitty - a tea float - and everyone puts in, but some people always do the actual physical buying it, and my god you would think it was a hate-crime, or some form of indentured servitude.]

  [Sianor: Wow.]

  [Ashroe: And the biscuits! I mean, cookies to you.]

  [Sianor: What about them?]

  [Ashroe: We used to get given them for meetings and shit, but not anymore. Now we bring our own in. And that means like the milk it turns into Biscuitmageddon. I hate fig rolls, and Pat doesn't like the cow biscuits, but we just deal with it... but if someone brings in biscuits from the discount shop!! Twice as many biscuits, but in a different wrapper.]

  [Sianor: And this is a problem because?]

  [Ashroe: Some people are biscuit snobs. So we just hide the wrappers and chuck them in the tin when no one is looking.]

  [Sianor: ...being an adult is just being taller isn't it?]

  [Ashroe: Taller. More money.]

  [Sianor: I never really liked the politics at school. That was before I got sick, and now I mostly don't get into school.]

  [Ashroe: Well, you get enough of the bitchiness in the communities. Imagine it like that, except you fight about staples and who is sleeping with whom, instead of... well. Who is sleeping with whom... in space.]

  [Sianor: Can you imagine working in an office with someone who shipped your NOTP?]

  [Ashroe: Yep. Hahaha. Or... or like writing for the show, but you keep fighting with one of the other writers...]

  [Sianor: I bet they do.]

  [Ashroe: Is why I write for fun. If I did it for money and I had to write stuff I didn't want to to make money I think I would cry.]

  [Sianor: You know, we should totally write a piss-take.]

  [Ashroe: What, and troll people?]

  [Sianor: Maybe not and post it, but... like something trope-tastic and cliché and everything we don't like.]

  [Ashroe: Oh god, oh god, can we have things like 'turgid member' and 'quivering womanhood'?]

  [Sianor: I think I threw up a bit in my mouth. But yes!]

  [Ashroe: I don't know if I could actually write bad. I mean, purpose-bad. I am sure I write bad-bad all the time, by an accident.]

  [Sianor: I'll write you something as a gift to get you through tomorrow.]

  [Ashroe: Wow, that's so kind.]

  [Sianor: Wait til you read it then tell me it's kind.]

  [Ashroe: If I don't want to spork my own eyeballs out just to make it stop, then you haven't been disgusting enough.]

  [Sianor: Challenge accepted.]

  [Ashroe: And... I will draw for you. I know you like art. I know you can draw. So I will draw you the most awful, ugly, horrible stick-art you have ever seen. With office stationery. And then I will put it up on my blog for you and see how many people stop talking to me, hahahaha.]

  [Sianor: It's a deal. Now... isn't it past someone's bedtime?]

  [Ashroe: Yes, you should be in bed.]

  [Sianor: It's the evening for me!]

  [Ashroe: I didn't say whose bed.]

  [Sianor: Oh, saucy.]

  [Ashroe: Maybe I will draw RPF. I mean, er, RPA. Whatever. Us. Boning. In stick figure format.]

  [Sianor: I ship us XD]

  [Ashroe: I will draw it tomorrow when I am hung-over in the morning meeting and I will eat a biscuit passive-aggressively and think about your quivering womanhood.]

  [Sianor: I love you too xxx]

  ***

  Chapter Five - Mission: Confiscation

  [Ashroe: I hate you.]

  [Sianor: Nice to see you too, darling.]

  [Ashroe: I got my gift story when I was on a coffee break. I had to fake a coughing fit to cover over my laughter. And then Sue spent the afternoon obliquely covering her face in case I was coming down with the flu, and throwing medicinal sachets at me.]

  [Sianor: So you liked it?]

  [Ashroe: Let's just say I still don't OT3 it. But that was the best Kip/Biann/Saidhe I ever read. Maybe the only one I ever will.]

  [Sianor: Your fanart of my story was better, though. I particularly liked that you included Stetsons.]

  [Ashroe: It was illustrative of the reverse cowgirl.]

  [Sianor: As I've never ridden either a horse or a man, I bow to your superior knowledge of the correct headwear when engaged in congress.]

  [Ashroe: We have to have matching pink Stetsons when we go to the con.]

  [Sianor: You do realise that just because I speak with a drawl, it doesn't mean I know how to rustle cows?]

  [Ashroe: And I don't drink tea.]

  [Sianor: What?]

  [Ashroe: Vile stuff. Prefer coffee any day. I keep expecting the British Police to show up and arrest me for treason.]

  [Sianor: What about iced tea?]

  [Ashroe: If it's Long Island then yes. Otherwise, I would rather get my caffeine kick from a latte.]

  [Sianor: My whole world is a lie.]

  [Sianor: Can I put your picture up on the archive in the notes if I credit you?]

  [Ashroe: If you want to let everyone know you value bad art, then feel free.]

  [Sianor: Anyone who reads that fic and thinks it's 'art' needs their head examining anyway!]

  [Ashroe: Point... okay. Let's have some delicious trauma!]

  [Sianor: With maple syrup :)]

  ***

  "This... this is like where I grew up," Biann said, nodding around at the thronging, murmuring crowd. "A bit more mixed. Mostly Hleen and a few Roq where I lived. But this is more 'common people' than the dingy back alleys."

  The two women were sitting on high stools, nursing steaming drinks. Biann had picked out a flat, sweet bread with a fruit filling and was letting it cool from the hot press. Kre had chosen a skewer of strongly-marinated meat, which hung dripping juices from a spike into a bowl below. Instead of biting chunks off the stick, she pushed a claw in and pulled a section off at a time to eat it more delicately.

  "Do you miss it?" Kre asked.

  "My home-town? A bit. I mean... I like looking into shops where everything costs half my annual salary, mostly because I don't think it's worth it, but other people do... but I miss this. I miss a place you can go to buy anything you actually need, and spend the right amount. A place where you turn the corner and meet an old friend, or find someone who puts their heart and soul into their craft..."

  They had meant to go to the slums, but when Biann saw the old-fashioned printed advertisements pasted onto walls directing people to the market, she'd dragged Kre along with a promise that it would be worth the detour. Kre had to agree.

  Overhead was a large, sloping glass roof that allowed the natural light to shine through, with panels set in a grid to collect the solar energy to power artificial lighting when it got too dull. Then, in the centre where the main hub of the market sat, tiny little bowls of warmly glowing orbs marked out paths and important information. The hub was circled with large panels displaying the travel times, and below was a near-constant flow of smart little trains ferrying people to and from the capital.

  Market stalls had chosen this nexus as a means to maximise their footfall, and Kre was delighted to see the insane melting pot that was going on. Some Sianar were hawking hand-carved old-fashioned toys, right next to a Roq family who were trying to sell more modern, electronic games. She could see by their body-language that they were comfortable side-by-side, and it made her stomach skip.


  "I never haggled before I joined the Messenger," she confessed, when she realised that her silence had become protracted. "Indeed, I rarely had the need to purchase anything, until I left to study. And then I simply paid what the marked price was."

  "I bet they loved you, then!"

  "Indeed. I was always surprised by how warmly the various establishments greeted me, but perhaps they saw an easy mark in me."

  "If you can afford to pay them, then you both benefit. You get good service, and they get good money."

  "It is likely that I would have still paid the full price, had I known how much the price had been marked up." A sniff at the drink, to see if it was cool enough yet. "I think it is more of a custom for Hleen than it is for Sianar, still."

  Humans do it as well. Roq don't so much. It took me and Sai years to get Loap into the habit of arguing. He feels guilty about taking money from someone's pocket. So we agreed only to haggle with Hleen and Humans, and that's worked out pretty nicely for us."

  "How did you meet Loap?"

  "Actually we met him and the Cap'n at the same time. See, me and Sai used to work in a shipyard, run by a very distant uncle. He used to buy scrap and strip them for parts. I was the mechanic of us, and Saidhe used to run the books and do the people-talking stuff. 'Cept when the customer was Hleen. One day this Human walks in with a Roq at his side. Says he's got a great ride, she just needs a bit of love."

  "Messenger?"

  "She wasn't called that then, but yep. Apparently he'd won her bare bones in a card game, and he went to the docks and hollered that he needed a pilot and a navigator. Loap decided he wanted to sign on... until he saw the state of the ship!"

  "But he stayed?"

  "Cap'n said give him a week to get her fixed up space-worthy, and get a full crew. He got to talking to Saidhe, offered her pilot. Chance to do something different."

  "And your uncle?"

  The Hleen's little pink tongue slid over her lips. "She didn't tell him. Neither of us did, until Messenger was space-worthy, else he might've refused his trade. We weren't beholden to him, and there was never gonna be anything for us there, so..."

  "Do you ever regret it?"

  "Leaving a back-water that treated us like nothing? Nope. Sure, we don't always fly to fancy planets, but we're... Saidhe means the world to me. She does. I wasn't about to go marry and leave her, just because of some dumb 'flaw'. Any society as doesn't want my sister? I don't want it, either. Besides... Messenger's like home, now. A home that travels wherever you wanna be."

  "I do not regret joining, either. Or leaving my people to study. I... do regret some of the consequences of my actions, but not--"

  "...mayday, mayday... you two lovely ladies better make yourselves scarce. You read me?"

  The Captain's voice through their personal pagers made them jump, especially as the two were ever so slightly out of synch, making his voice reverberate around the table. He wouldn't ever page a joke alarm after the incident with the balloons, so they shared a worried look.

  "Captain, what do we--?"

  But the answer was only static.

  ***

  "Seems to be the problem here?" Vadim asked, pushing his thumbs under his belt in a not-too-subtle display of the side-arm he carried on the left.

  "We have reports of a possible contaminant in your cargo," the dock official said, holding his clip-board tightly in front of him like a little bureaucratic shield. "We're going to have to seize it for hazard evaluation."

  "Nope. Don't think you are." He tapped the toe of one boot against the hermetically sealed crate. "See, if you'd check the manifest, you'd see they are under diplomatic colours. So... no can do."

  "Yes. Yes can do," the official replied, his nose wrinkling in distaste. "Public health concerns are more important."

  "What, you worried we're bringing in slightly mouldy cheese?"

  "My intelligence is classified."

  "So are these boxes," Vadim growled.

  "Captain... perhaps I should contact Raboros, to alert the Za?" Loap asked. "I could send a priority message, and he could give the authority to hand over the crates, or otherwise instruct the officers here, who are just doing their job?"

  "I think that sounds like a good idea, don't you, Jobsworth?" Vadim asked the man.

  "You will not find any authority that supersedes the Ur-health department! You can name-drop all you like, but those boxes are coming with me for secure assessment and potential destruction."

  "Oh really? Is this how you speak to a Za's Amanuensis?"

  "When the fate of a whole planet is at stake, I would speak to my God in the same way."

  Behind him, the two, bulkier officials shuffled ominously. They looked more like private security than health workers. If you were generous, you might think they were here to lift boxes. If you were less generous...

  "Captain..." Saidhe started, her eyes locked with one of the two Sianar.

  "Sparkle, now is not a good time."

  "Captain, please would you--"

  Vadim moved fast, ducking behind one of the crates and drawing his pistol at the same time. He screamed something that was more warning than word, and Saidhe found herself pushed face-first into the floor, with Loap's hand around her neck, keeping her down.

  "Loap, let me go!"

  "Stay down," Loap growled, and then sat back up, drawing his own weapon. "You're not as good a shot as I am."

  The Roq moved to cover behind one of the bulkheads, leaning around to nip off a few shots. Saidhe wasn't about to let the boys have all the fun, but she didn't carry her own gun, so she did the next best thing. "Mes! Lights!"

  "As you wish, Saidhe."

  The whole cargo bay area went dark as the AI replied, other than the emergency strips lighting the way to the exit. That left the three crew-members in complete darkness, with the 'officials' silhouetted by the external glow. Saidhe smirked as she heard a shot land, followed by a yowl of pain.

  "Clever girl," Loap said, running over to her.

  "Get her out of here," Vadim yelled.

  "It's not safe planet-side!" Loap yelled back, just as loudly.

  "I meant the ship! Get Mes out of here!"

  Saidhe felt a strange, bubbly hysteria start to build. Like this was all not real. Like she could start laughing and not stop. "We can't take off. We're docked. There's clamps on. Security. You can't just fly up and hope it works!"

  "Sure you can!"

  "No, you really can't."

  "Please, all of you, put down your weapons!" the official shouted. "Stop firing! This is a lawful seizure!"

  "Lawful my ass!" Vadim snapped back. "You two... do whatever you have to."

  Saidhe wasn't going to sit there and let them get overwhelmed. Sure, they had the element of stealth in the dark, but how long would it be before reinforcements got there? Reinforcements with bigger, deadlier guns? Captain Vadim was out of reach, but Loap was right there. She grabbed half way along his tail and yanked, ignoring the very loud hiss of pain. "Come with me," she ordered.

  "Mes, page the others!" Vadim started to yell.

  "Ready," the ship answered.

  "Mayday, mayday... you two lovely ladies better make yourselves scarce..."

  ***

  Kre's hackles raised the minute her paws hit the ground, her claws extended fully, head snapping from side to side to take in any and all threats. Everything that had seemed so charming and provincial only moments ago now seemed ready to kill her and Biann. She had let her guard down, and though she knew the exits (she always knew the exits) Kre hadn't been monitoring for suspicious activity, and any direction they charged in could be the wrong one.

  Still. A decision had to be made, and it had to be made quickly. The longer they were out in the open, the more they were at risk.

  "Cap'n?" Biann asked, tapping at her small pager. "Saidhe?"

  "Biann, we must get to safety before we attempt to establish contact," Kre told her.

  "But my sister!"

>   "Your sister may well be somewhere she must remain silent, or our communications channels may be compromised so that using them alerts our enemies to our positions. Come with me."

  It broke Kre's heart to see Biann so distressed, but they had to move rapidly. A Sianar and a Hleen stood out as a pair, even on somewhere as forward-thinking as Jazibe. She tugged Biann by her elbow, taking care not to scratch her arm open in the process. Flustered Sianar often forgot their own strength, and the relatively thin skins of the other races. Biann stuffed her little purse under her arm, the automatic reaction to snatch up belongings over-riding self-preservation.

  Kre dragged them into the thickest part of the crowd, where a huge stall of clothing had massive, hanging displays. It was a little cliché, but it was a cliché for a reason. The visibility through the stall from the outside market was greatly reduced, so she darted out through one of the side exits, taking Biann next to the fish stalls. She knew her Hleen friend would hate the scent there, but it also meant that any Hleen following them would be unconsciously back-footed, too.

  "Kre, where are we going?"