by DC Bastien
So they walked. Vadim's stride a little more stiff than was natural. His palms were sweating, and he didn't like that his only gun was a tiny thing that looked like a playing card and was currently far from reach in an inside pocket of this heavy, almost-black jacket. It would also only fire a limited amount of shots, and one stun-jolt, and that was a terrible contingency plan. Absolutely dire.
"Just pretend you're my bodyguard, alright?" Avery asked, head turned slightly towards him but eyes still front and centre. "I know that such a job is far beneath your dignity, but this is a fiction, and one you must uphold."
"I can radiate 'I want to smash some skulls together'," Vadim offered, and tried to look even more annoyed than he already felt.
Jazibe was a well-off planet, there was no two ways about it. They'd hailed a small cab to bring them back into the thrumming core of the capital city, and now they were weaving their way through the bustle of the plaza. Every kind of race was here, and all of them were in a rush. The money that dripped from their clothes and their smug, superior stance made Vadim's teeth itch. It was probably all in his head, but he couldn't get away from the fact that every single person here could buy and sell his whole property a hundred times over without breaking past the petty cash. No one needed that much money. No one. But there wasn't going to be any changing that now, was there? People had money, or they didn't. Sometimes they swapped around from one group or the other, but there would never be such a thing as a level playing field.
The Tuadan Corp building... well. That screamed money. It was tall and sleek and Vadim wondered if it was actually supposed to look phallic? After all, it was Hleen designed, and they were less... anthro-centric, but maybe it was supposed to appeal to Humans on a primal level. Unless it was simply a case of the cost of land footprint, and efficiency... the building swirled on the way up, like a soft-scoop of icecream or a seashell drawn to impossible heights. There were windows in the recessed spiral, and at the very top... was that actually an antenna, or was it for aesthetics?
"Impressive, isn't it?" Avery asked. "There's one on most of the core planets. Not on Raboros, though, nor on Draqqi. But I assume that's only a matter of time."
"It's showy," Vadim said.
"True, but that's what it's there for. To make sure you don't forget about them. And you wouldn't, if you saw such a distinctive building wherever you went."
"Let's stop gawking like tourists and get on with it."
***
Inside it was much the same. The floor was a distressingly shiny black marble-like stone, which had the unfortunate property of being mirrored. Vadim made the mistake of glancing down at the wrong moment, and seeing right up one woman's skirt. He'd looked away hurriedly, but she'd noticed. And winked.
"Do they have no shame here?" he hissed under his breath.
"Not in media. They thrive on attention. You don't think that was deliberate?"
It was a strange way to get attention. Vadim actually felt like he'd been sexually harassed, even though it was her parts he'd caught a glimpse of, and not through choice, either. A small gaggle of noisy young men and women caught his attention further into the lobby, and he noticed that some of them were wearing strategic clothing as well. And not all of them were female.
"This is a sex-place. You brought me to a sex-place. It's a front, isn't it?"
"What?"
"The media thing. It's a front for some hard-core pornography. Or... swinging parties. Liberal artistic types, all swapping partners."
"You are such a prude, Kip. A few flashes of panties does not an orgy make. But as we haven't actually discussed it, were you wanting an open relationship, or are you a one-man kind of a guy? Because I--"
"Gentlemen," came a solicitous voice as someone glided up behind them, noiselessly.
Vadim was surprised the someone seemed to be a Roq. A Roq who was dressing in a more feminine way, and so likely wanted female pronouns. It was occasionally hard to tell. He swore some of them swapped about to dick with your head at times.
"Can I help you at all?"
"Why yes, ma'am, you could," Avery smarmed right back at her, in that schmoozy, sleazy way he had. He put his hand into the breast pocket of his ridiculously plush jacket and withdrew a small card.
The Roq held out her palm, and he swiped the card over the bangle on her wrist, pocketing it in the same smooth action.
Sometimes his boyfriend was a little too slick for his liking.
"Ah, I see. Doctor Kuber, it is a delight to meet you!"
Avery inclined his head just a fraction, and Vadim was impressed. He really did have the whole supercilious thing down pat. The man had never admitted it, but Vadim had long wondered if he was originally from money.
"My companion and I are here for the consultation. I believe my secretary has been liaising with your staff. There is a televised debate on extra-mural activities and their links to crime reduction when targeted by blood-type and seasonal birth-period. The statistics are very--"
She smiled a smile that looked insincere, even on a Roq's face. Their expressions were harder to read, because they were less important to them, but Vadim had gotten wise to the tics now. "Doctor, I would love to listen to your views, but you might be late for your interview. And then your public would be deprived of learning the truth!"
Oh so smooth, but not. Vadim could see right through her. He wondered if anyone actually bought her picture-perfect obsequious nature, or if it was all fake-smiles and non-committal nods.
"Where do we need to go?" the Captain asked, figuring he ought to join the conversation at some point, or be mistaken for a mute. Which could be preferable.
"If you go to the centre of the lobby, there is a security clearance point, where you will be issued with guest passes." She waved with a delicate gesture towards the line of metal barriers, and smartly-dressed security officers. "Once you are through the clearance, there is a central lift-shaft. You need to go to the forty-seventh floor. When there, report to the reception and you will be escorted to the green room."
"Why is it called the green room?" Vadim frowned. He wasn't sure why that part bugged him, but it did.
"It is an old Human term. I use the vernacular and cultural references that best relate to my target audience," she admitted.
"Well... it didn't work for me."
"I will make a note of that for my future communications with you." Teeth showed in her smile.
"...right."
"You're holding the nice lady up, Steven," Avery chided, his tone condescending and babying. "You can go on the tour after the interview, and after I'm back at the hotel."
"Sorry, boss."
"You two have a lovely day!" the Roq greeter beamed plastically at them, with a little wave.
That was likely yet another 'culturally appropriate' gesture. It was creepy. Vadim would rather not be treated as a demographic.
***
"Do I want to know how you managed to create a watertight alias?" Vadim asked, as they travelled up in the elevator. "Considering you must now be AWOL from your post. Not to mention the Judge. What the hell does the Ur think the two of you are up to? Being legally dead?"
"I'm on a sabbatical," Avery replied, smoothly. "Unpaid. My years of good service meant I could apply."
"I see. And Peters?"
"I think he is legally dead, or at least 'missing in action'. He wasn't sure who he could trust in the organisation, you see. I offered to find him, to help him with some cover story, but I think he's enjoying death-retirement."
"What's his alias?"
"Which one?"
The elevator opened at one of the other floors - thirty-seven - and a young Hleen bustled in. He had papers tucked under one arm, and he was muttering under his breath to a recording device.
"Isn't that a bit dated?" Vadim asked.
The Hleen didn't notice.
"I said--"
That got his attention, and he turned. Startled at being addressed, he frowned up at them.
"What?"
"Paper."
"Yes?"
"It's... dated."
"Some people prefer the tactility of it," he replied, and turned his back on them again, signalling the end of the conversation.
Vadim exchanged an arch look with Avery, and then the aide left on the forty-first floor.
"You get it?"
"Of course," Avery said, flicking the pass he'd swiped between two fingers in front of Vadim's nose. "You're not the only one who can slip into pockets unseen."
"Touché."
"Is this where the plan gets interesting?"
"You mean pretending to be my hired thug isn't interesting?"
"If I actually got to rough people up, it might be."
Avery moved fast, and Vadim didn't react quite in time. All of a sudden, he was trading barbs, the next he had him slammed back against the wall. A hand had grabbed hold of the tie that circled his throat, tugging upwards, bending his head back for a kiss. His mouth opened in protest, only to find a tongue running hot and firm against his own. His knees threatened to buckle, and then he felt the inside of Ithon's wrist twisting against his side as he tapped at buttons and did something complicated.
Clearly Vadim's part of the plan was to make the kiss look good, or at least keep Avery entertained as he hacked his way through. He couldn't help but remember the last time he was in a similar situation. Elevators were small, confined spaces which meant they were potential death-traps, but they were also a good starting point for your assault on a building.
Figuring he might as well play into the cover, he grabbed two hands full of the man's ass, slamming them crotch to crotch. Although maybe he shouldn't put too much into this aspect of the story, because the moan as the kiss broke made his already difficult position even more precarious. Being turned on in the middle of an op was... bad. Very bad.
"You're a moron," Avery hissed. "And you better deliver on that promise tonight."
"We all get safe and away, you bet your sweet ass I will."
"One of these days, they're going to fit deadly gas in the elevators, and we won't be able to do this."
"Too much risk of accidentally gassing the CEO," Avery replied. "Or a disgruntled employee 'forgetting' to do safety checks."
"...ouch. How long do we have?"
"Not very long."
"And you've sent us...?"
"To the executive levels."
"Armed only with a card gun and...?"
"A smile."
The doors opened. There was already a welcoming committee.
"You're an idiot," Vadim sighed.
***
[Ashroe: Hypothesis: Kip didn't actually leave the Ur. He was thrown out for flirting.]
[Sianor: For... flirting?]
[Ashroe: For flirting. Too much. On ops.]
[Sianor: Kip resents that.]
[Ashroe: He was distracting other Enforcers. And Judges. And criminals. Basically he was a giant man-whore.]
[Sianor: Says YOU! I mean... HIM!]
[Ashroe: Eventually, they offered him a huge lump-sum buy-out to stop waving his dick around and distracting people, and told him to find employ as a man of negotiable affections.]
[Sianor: The things he is saying right now are rude. But... I'm loving the headcanon.]
[Ashroe: Hooker!AU!]
[Sianor: What about the popular 'Stripclub!Job' AU?]
[Ashroe: Oh yes. Where they go undercover as male exotic dancers, and shake their lovely little asses for justice.]
[Sianor: No more AUs! We have to finish this one!]
[Ashroe: We could work it into this one somehow. I'm sure we could just edit a few things and make Nessin a whore-runner.]
[Sianor: We posted chapters!]
[Ashroe: Yeah, maybe we shouldn't have. I guess it would be a big ret-con.]
[Sianor: Ya think? Yes. Stripper!AU can come later. After plot.]
[Ashroe: You are implying there wouldn't be plot in the Stripper!Verse? That somehow I would solely be objectifying men for the sake of perverse sexual pleasure? That I would sell out my muse for a couple of ones stuffed into my g-string?]
[Sianor: I'm saying it would contain less clothes.]
[Ashroe: Damn skippy it would.]
[Sianor: If you're serious about it, we could do it. Maybe as like a hiatus special, as we missed Christmas?]
[Ashroe: I think I might be hormonal, but it's sounding like a good idea. You know they would try to out-camp one another.]
[Sianor: The pair of them are utterly shameless. And if the rest of the crew were there...]
[Ashroe: Saidhe covering her eyes and saying: no, not my baby sister!]
[Sianor: Loap being surprisingly lithe and in tune with his body, and wondering why everyone else thinks dance is a sexualised activity, when it's really just calisthenics to music and do other beings translate anything involving a body into sex?]
[Ashroe: Kre being clumsy as fuck and it's not until someone tells her to pretend she has a staff or a gun or a sword or something in her hands and do kartas with imaginary opponents and then everyone just stares and she gets self-conscious and asdfghjkl.]
[Sianor: I need it.]
[Ashroe: Me too.]
[Sianor: Promise me we can do it.]
[Ashroe: When I come up with a flimsy enough reason, then yis.]
***
Chapter Twenty-Five - Mission: Mediation
"Are you going to tell us where we're going?" Saidhe asked.
"You are being transported for your own safety," the Sianar replied.
"Oh? Where to?"
There was silence, then. Just a dull, silver tray slid through the metal bars of the cage. There was some form of food on the tray, and a little carton of liquid.
"If we eat this," Loap said, from his cell, "...we will eventually need to void it."
"If you don't eat it, you will be hungry."
"And if we do, we will need a place to excrete it," he continued. "You understand the basic principle, yes? Food goes in, waste comes out?"
Saidhe was smirking, trying not to giggle. She wasn't sure why, but it just sounded damn funny.
"Not to mention: my hands are tied? Behind me? I can't really do much but face-plant into this... lovely culinary delight. Is that... is that meat?"
The Sianar didn't look down. "It is food. You do not need your hands. You will not be in here long enough to soil yourselves. If you do, you will be bathed."
"Hleen don't eat meat! And we use our hands... or utensils!"
The guard huffed at them, and walked off.
"Can you believe that?" she asked, her voice going up half an octave.
"Sadly, I can."
"I don't eat meat! And this looks distinctly like it could be meat! And if it is, I'd rather starve."
"The liquid should be meat-free."
"If I could open the ridiculous carton it comes in. My hands are tied. Aren't yours?"
"Yes, but..."
"But what?"
"I can use my feet."
"You... right. Okay. Well, that's good for you. You have clever feet and a tail. I didn't evolve to eat chained up in a dungeon."
"Neither did I, though the Sianar might disagree with that."
Ouch. She had to wince at that. It so wasn't deliberate.
"I'm sorry," Loap said.
"No... you shouldn't apologise."
"I should. You have never harmed me, or any of my people, to my knowledge. It is unfair of me to take my frustrations out on you, just because you are my friend. We are in the same predicament, only I am slightly more... equipped to deal with it."
"And I shouldn't be complaining to you," she said, shuffling closer to the wall he was hidden behind. She couldn't get all the way to it, but closer. "I'm just... scared. Have... have you ever been in prison before?"
"In prison, no. But this is not prison. If it were, we'd likely be treated better."
"Fair enough. Have you ever woken up tied up in a cell?"
A pau
se. "Yes."
"What?"
"Once. It... I was... young and foolish. I ended up trespassing on someone else's property, in the hopes of liberating some of their goods."
