by A. K. DuBoff
“Who’s with us?” the captain asked.
“Me.” Jack stepped toward the exit hatch.
“All right, let’s go.” She led the way off the ship.
The gangway was longer than most, given it was designed to accommodate vessels of all sizes. At the end, it opened into a corridor, which curved around the circumference of the space station. The structure was only six decks tall, and all amenities were in the core along the central axis of the station. Holographic signs above the stalls boasted the services and wares offered at each.
“I think we’re on the wrong deck. This way.” Triss took off toward the escalator, which zig-zagged through the central core, providing an easy means for pedestrians to access the different levels.
They rode it down two decks, and then Triss headed to the right.
“Ah, there it is!” She pointed up ahead.
A sign with red lettering and the silhouette of a surfer wearing a sombrero glowed above a stainless steel counter stamped with a maple leaf motif. Based on the sign, the establishment was called Cali-hint-eh.
“Uh, Triss, what is this place?” Jack asked.
“A fusion place, like all Mexican food restaurants should be. It’s Cali-Mex with a touch of Canadian maple.”
Alyssa wrinkled her nose. “That sounds awful.”
“No! The maple is great, trust me. Really complements the spice.” Triss approached the counter.
A worker wearing a moose-head hat with mini-maracas dangling from the antlers smiled at her. “Hey, dudette! ’Sup?”
Triss seemed taken aback for a moment, then turned to Alyssa and Jack. “I forgot about the surfer lingo. How much should we order?”
“Finn said to get his usual,” Jack replied. “What about the workers?”
“Erm.” Alyssa’s brow knit. “I don’t know. How much do normal people eat?”
Jack crossed his arms. “Can we assume these are ‘normal people’? I saw them doing this weird ‘booping’ ritual earlier.”
“What did it entail?” Triss asked.
“They sat in a circle and took turns walking around patting each person on the head.”
Alyssa raised an eyebrow. “That’s odd, not going to lie.”
“That doesn’t mean they aren’t regular people in other ways,” Triss pointed out.
“But what does that even mean, to be ‘normal’?”
“Human, I guess?”
“But are they human?”
Alyssa shrugged. “Looked human to me.”
“But so do Andellans,” the restaurant clerk interjected. “One of them can eat an entire hoslonger.”
Jack stared at him blankly. “I have no idea what that is. I take it from your tone that’s an impressive feat.”
The man’s eyes widened. “Well, yeah! That’s like saying a somlagon flooped a nigglewag.”
“Still not following…” Jack replied.
“Malanging a noompu?”
“I’m just gonna stop you there and say we have a difference in vernacular,” Alyssa cut in.
“Plus, you’re breaking character,” Triss pointed out.
“C’mon, isn’t it enough that I’m wearing this hat?” he objected.
“The hat is pretty bad,” Jack agreed.
Triss sighed. “I’m not sure if the surfer-speak or… whatever that was you were just saying is more incomprehensible.”
“The question stands, what do you want to order?” the clerk asked.
“Four regular orders of taquitos, and whatever else would be good to serve a dozen additional people,” Triss replied.
“How about a caliente grizzly bear pack? It’s like three hoslongers.”
“Uh, sure. We’ll go with that,” Triss agreed.
“Do you have any idea what we’re getting?” Jack whispered to her.
“Haven’t the slightest clue, but it’s guaranteed to be tasty.”
They paid and were told it would take twenty minutes to prepare due to the large order. To pass the time, they decided to walk two stalls down to a walk-up bar so they could grab a quick drink.
Two other patrons were already at the bar, absorbed in their own conversation.
“No way,” the larger of the two men said. “They’re going to have that system locked down in another two weeks.”
“I still think we have a chance to make a move,” the other countered, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. “If you don’t want in, I’ll do it myself.”
“You’re crazy,” the first man scoffed.
“Reputation or not, how tough can they really be operating out of a pink star?”
Jack perked up. “Excuse me,” he said to the two patrons while Triss and Alyssa ordered drinks. “I couldn’t help overhearing you mention a pink star. Do you know where it’s located?”
The two men glanced at each other, then turned their attention to Jack.
“Why do you ask?” questioned the large man.
“I’m, uh, planning to open up a coffee stand with a similar star-shaped exterior,” Jack replied. “You know, branding. But I don’t want there to be any confusion with the other one—make sure my stand is far enough away, you know?”
“Oh, yeah, have to do that market research,” the second man said. “It’s on the outskirts of Rufan, anchored to the icy moon of the outermost gas giant. Not real scenic; most people avoid it.”
“Sounds like I won’t have to worry about people confusing my stand for that,” Jack replied.
“Yeah, no. But you might consider your branding, because most people would avoid anything related to the pink star, not go to it,” cautioned the larger man.
“Why?”
“Because people who go in there don’t tend to come back out again,” he continued. “They have a corner on the market, and anyone who stands in their way is soon… not a problem.”
Alyssa handed a drink to Jack. “Who’s this now?”
“The Blue Rabbits,” the second man whispered, glancing over his shoulder to make sure no one was listening. “We were just advising your friend that using a similar brand wouldn’t be a smart move.”
“So, pink stars and blue rabbits, huh?” Jack said.
“Well, the pink star is just their base. They called themselves the Blue Rabbits and use the emblem as sort of a code—a symbol to verify product is legit,” the first man explained.
“That doesn’t seem very secure,” Alyssa replied. “If it’s a visual symbol, can’t anyone copy it?”
“No one has seen it detailed enough to replicate,” the large man said. “They know exactly what it looks like. If the ears are even a millimeter too long or the tail a little too fluffy, they’ll know it’s a fake.”
Jack took a sip of the drink Alyssa had handed him; it was about as tasty as rocket fuel, but he drank it anyway. “Well, sounds like quite the organization. I think I’ll rebrand my coffee stand.”
The second man nodded. “You better. And avoid having anything spicy on the menu. People might take it the wrong way.”
The large man chuckled. “He’s just saying that because he wants to move in on the market.”
“You mean, uh, ‘detailing’?” Jack whispered.
“Sure, if you want to call it that,” he replied. “I normally just say ‘bring the heat’.”
“Well, we all know we’re talking about the same thing,” Jack said.
“Yeah.” The second man nodded. “Just be sure to stay in your own territory.”
“You’ve got nothing to worry about.” Jack took another sip of his drink. “Thanks for the tips.”
“You bet.” The large man saluted with his own drink, and the other patron did likewise.
Jack turned back to his friends. “Well, that was interesting.”
“What was that about?” Alyssa asked.
“I’ll explain later,” he replied.
They finished their drinks while making small-talk amongst themselves, then headed back to Cali-hint-eh to pick up their to-go order. Pi
led on the counter, when they arrived, were six translucent bags containing stacks of white clamshell containers.
Jack’s jaw dropped. “Is that all for us?”
“Uh… that looks like it’ll serve more like thirty people,” Alyssa commented.
Triss sighed. “Well, I guess it’s good three of us came or we wouldn’t be able to carry all of this.”
They each took two bags and took the escalator toward their ship.
“So, what was that you heard at the bar?” Triss asked while they rode up.
Jack smiled. “I think I know how to get inside the pink star base.”
CHAPTER 6: The Spice of Life
— — —
“Blue rabbit pictures? That’s your idea?” Alyssa asked with obvious skepticism in her tone.
“See, no one has been able to replicate the symbol,” Jack continued, “but I have a recording.” He pointed to the cybernetic implant in his head as best he could while carrying the bags of food. “It has a twenty-four-hour log, which we are still within.”
Triss pursed her lips. “You know, that might actually work.”
“Yeah,” Alyssa mused, “if they use that symbol as a safe passcode, we could probably get ourselves inside.”
“And, we can send a message summoning everyone in the organization to the base, if we can get a contact list,” Jack added.
The captain’s eye lit up. “We have a list of the Perfect Touch locations. The branches were all listed in the contract—I read over it while we were in transit.”
Jack raised his one good eyebrow. “Oh, sure, now you read it, after it’s signed.”
“Do you ever read those multi-page documents filled with legalese?” she asked.
He shook his head.
Alyssa flourished her hand. “Well, there you go.”
“At any rate, we can send a message to those locations now using a blue rabbit digital stamp to verify authenticity,” Triss said. “That way, the associates will all be there when we tip off the Vorlox.”
“Is there enough transit time for them to get there?” Alyssa asked.
“Well, we stopped for a while, and we aren’t going at maximum hyperspace speed,” Triss said.
“Maybe set the meeting for an hour after our expected arrival? That would give some extra time for the associates to travel,” Jack suggested.
Alyssa nodded. “Okay, assuming this works, we’ll still need to figure out where they are keeping the IDs and anything else valuable enough worth the time and effort to steal.”
“We can figure out the internal layout once we’re in the computer network,” Triss told her. “Get me inside and I’ll take care of it from there.”
Alyssa adjusted her grip on the bags of food in her hands. “I imagine there’s no talking you out of this.”
“Not likely, no,” Jack replied. “May well save the time and energy and just embrace the plan.”
“It’s not a plan. It’s an idea,” she countered.
“It’ll be a plan by the time we do it.” He smiled. “Just think of all the good loot that will be in there, given a gang of this caliber.”
“Yeah, that’s what concerns me. If this doesn’t go well, we’re dead—or worse.”
Triss shook her head. “You should know by now that the tough guys are never as tough as they want you to think, the guards are terrible at their jobs, and we have stupid-good luck that always seems to see us through.”
“I worry about that luck will run out.”
“Not anytime soon. Not so long as we have each other.” Triss grinned. “Let’s get our people fed and then we can worry about the details.”
Alyssa sighed. “All right. I guess I have at least one more crazy venture left in me.”
Jack grinned. “Good, because we were going to make you go anyway.”
They traversed the remaining distance to their ship and boarded with the food in hand.
Finn was waiting in the common room. “Whoa! I thought we were just stopping for a snack?”
“We ordered for everyone, and I guess the portions got a little out of hand.” Alyssa set down the two bags on the deck and flexed her fingers. “Really out of hand.”
“But it’ll be delicious!” Triss’ eyes lit up.
“There’s maple in the Cali-Mex food, Finn. Did you know about this?” Jack asked.
Finn wrinkled his nose. “No, I did not. When I said ‘the usual’ I meant synthobeef taquitos, not… whatever madness you’re describing.”
“Why does no one want hints of maple with jalapeno? Just try it and you’ll stop complaining,” Triss groaned.
Alyssa grabbed one of the two bags she’d carried, which contained their portion of the feast. She handed out foil-wrapped bundles to each crew member. “Well, it smells amazing,” she admitted.
Jack sniffed his own. “That maple does bring a certain sweetness.” He took a tentative bite. The taste of peppers and a hint of caramel exploded in his mouth. “I had my doubts, but I have to say this is actually really good.”
“I know, right?” Triss dug into hers. “I think the moose antler hats are a turnoff to customers, but they’ve got the cuisine down.”
The four members of the crew plowed through their taquitos.
“Those workers we’re transporting are going to love us after they try this. They’ll never want to leave,” Jack said between licking his fingers when he was finished.
“Please don’t say that,” Alyssa said under her breath.
“You know, it’s strange that they installed bunks for this trip—it’s barely over a day to get to Rufan from where we set out.”
“I bet that goes along with what Ramone said about this not being a one-job deal. They probably want us to transport others as soon as we’re done with this run.”
“This is not what I had in mind when I agreed to covert transport. I thought we’d just have one snooty rich person looking to get away.”
“Does this mean I can move into the nice cabin?” Jack asked.
“No.”
Jack sighed. “Worth a shot.”
“Aren’t you settled into that one by now? It’s been over a month,” Finn said.
“Yeah, but now it’s awkward with Latrina. That washroom is right above the waste processing tank, so she’ll always know when it’s me.”
Alyssa’s face slowly twisted into an expression of utter disgust. “Jack, if she still accepts you anyway, hold onto her. And she’d be wise to do the same with you.”
“Yeah, I think we could have something really special.”
Finn patted him on the shoulder. “It most certainly is. A very specific kind of ‘special’.”
“Let’s get this downstairs before it gets cold,” Alyssa said, grabbing two of the food bags.
Jack took another two and followed her down the ladder, with Triss taking the last one close behind him.
“Snack time!” Alyssa announced below, hoisting the two massive bags of takeout.
The workers rose from their bunks and seats on the couches.
“Why a snack?” Ramone asked.
“We’re still on our way to Antaeron,” Alyssa replied. “We picked up some food to hold you over until we arrive.”
The man tilted his head. “But why?”
“Because that’s how we do things on the Little Princess II.” She approached the table that had been erected next to the bunks, placing the bags in the middle.
Ramone took one sniff and frowned. “What is this?”
Triss grinned. “Takeout from Cali-hint-eh, the Cali-Mex restaurant with Canadian flare—one of the best taquito places around.”
The workers didn’t share her enthusiasm.
“Those hybrid places never understand spice balance,” a young woman stated. She shook her head with disappointment. “Is that maple?”
“Don’t pass judgment until you’ve tried it,” Jack said. “I thought Mexelente was good, but these taquitos are divine.”
Reluctantly, the woma
n opened the bag and began handing out foil-wrapped bundles to her comrades. When everyone had one in hand, she unwrapped her own and waved it under her nose. She shook her head again. “No, nothing with Vuresian peppers can ever hold up to an onion pairing like this. And that maple… no.”
Ramone took a bite of his taquito, then appeared to roll the half-chewed mash around his mouth. “Are they Vuresian or Santilan peppers?”
The woman took a bite. “You’re right, the taste is more Santilan. So what was that hint in the aroma?”
“It may be an interaction with Frugart tomatoes,” a red-headed woman chimed in.
“Yes, that’s it!” The first woman nodded. “I can’t believe they’d so carelessly mix stock like that.”
Jack’s mouth fell open slightly. “You seem to know a lot about peppers…”
“It is a passion, you might say,” Ramone replied.
“That’s right, you did say you wanted to start a restaurant,” he remembered.
Ramone nodded. “We have a new idea for our own chain.”
Jack smiled. “Good for you. Once we get you your IDs back, hopefully you can make that a reality.”
“Speaking of which,” Alyssa said, “we need to finish formulating our entrance tactics.”
“Right.” Jack shifted his thoughts back to the information he’d gathered at the bar. “Let’s pull the image records from my eye and we can take it from there.”
“I’ll get us underway,” Alyssa said. “Triss, can you help him with the eye? As soon as you get the image, I’ll send the summons to the associates.”
The other woman nodded. “You’ve got it.”
“I’ll see what research I can pull on the pink star’s location,” Finn said. “Alyssa, I’ll let you know what I find.”
“Perfect.” The captain nodded. “Let’s get to work.”
It took less than ten minutes for Triss to access the necessary information from Jack’s visual log and render the image in a suitable way. The rabbit emblem was, indeed, precisely reproduced in each of its versions within the Perfect Touch store area.
“Why the different numbers of rabbits on the crates?” Triss mused.
“I don’t know. Must be some other layer of code,” Jack replied.
“Do we use one or multiple for our message?”
