by Lynn Rae
“Cit. Tor.” She stood at the edge of his table and set her features in determined lines. He almost expected her to salute. Where that whimsical idea had originated he had no idea.
“Colan,” he reminded her. So she was back to formality. This must be serious.
“Colan,” Lia conceded with a tiny nod of her head. “I’d like to know why you haven’t responded to any of my messages in the last twenty hours.”
“Haven’t had time.” Which was a complete lie, he just hadn’t wanted to read any of them and become further embroiled in the complications of her massive schedules. And reschedules. He’d slept late, taken a long shower, sat on his deck in his robe, and watched the flivvers put on a show for an hour. Now, he was here to have his lunch. All without checking his datpad.
“Right. That’s why I’m here. Are you coming to the dinner tonight? Is anyone coming? I haven’t had a single RSVP, and I’m starting to worry.”
Colan sat up a bit straighter as he took in her tense shoulders and hands clenched tight around her datpad coil. She was agitated and yesterday that had resulted in a public tussle he didn’t care to repeat right before he started to eat. If Joli ever got his lunch out. “What dinner?”
“You’re joking! You didn’t read the invitation I sent you?” Her amber eyes flashed, and he edged away a few centimeters.
“No.” Had she asked him out on a date? Hard to believe, but maybe the galaxies had aligned in a strange way. He wasn’t the most polished-looking man, but maybe she liked the rough and ready type. Colan pulled his datpad from his pocket and opened up the messages. There were thirty-three from her. Nebula’s balls, she’d sent ten in the last hour alone. Was she obsessed?
“Where…” He stared up at her in confusion, and with a long suffering sigh, she sank into a seat next to him and slid to his side so she could read his display. Colan tried to ignore how close her hip was to his and certainly blocked out how nice her hair smelled. He was glad he’d taken a shower that morning.
“Here. I sent you this official invitation last night at eighteen hundred hours and another personal message explaining everything at the same time.” She jabbed a finger at the datpad, and he bent his head to read. Crack it; the magistrate had invited everyone to a dinner at the newly built administration building. Tonight. He should have been getting the word out to Pearlites all morning and reporting back attendance figures to Lia so she could arrange the food. The old timers weren’t used to checking their messages that often. He’d flubbed it mightily.
“I missed it.” Oh, how he hated to admit a mistake.
“You missed all of it? You haven’t read anything. What have you been doing all morning?” Lia turned accusing brown eyes on him, and Colan’s temper flared. He wasn’t the social director for this little colony. He couldn’t care less about some pretentious dinner these folks wanted to throw for the dirty natives. Like him.
“I’ve been busy.”
Lia tilted her head and fixed a disbelieving glare on him. He stared right back. Arguing was suddenly just fine by him.
“Busy telling Padev to talk with the doctor? Or busy making up stories about foot-boring pests to scare me?”
Where had that come from? Colan shook his head. Granted, he’d forgotten all about the Padev thing, but that was easily remedied. The amateur medic was hidden from her view on the other side of the bar right now, eating some sort of stew. Her accusation that he’d fabricated foot weevils bothered him. Despite his withdrawn lifestyle, he’d never seen himself as a cruel person. He liked people. Just in small doses. The quieter the better.
“I think you made it up. Why else would you have conveniently forgotten to follow through with some actual medical information which would benefit everyone? I know we got off on the wrong foot earlier, but it was mean of you to frighten me like that. I scrubbed my feet for an hour last night, and they’ve hurt all day.” Lia’s eyes glittered, and her cheeks flushed with an imminent emotional eruption, and all Colan could think was he’d inadvertently hurt her feelings. Stars, she’d been on this messy planet for a day, and all he’d done was upset her at every turn. He really was socially hopeless.
“I didn’t make it up.” He’d been infested with the bastards within a week of arriving on Gamaliel and had the scars to prove it, not that he needed to prove anything to her. Was it worth the risk of introducing her to Padev to get her to forgive him?
She scoffed and shook her head, her pretty mouth drawn into a frown. Yes, it was worth it.
With a muttered curse he stood up and shouted for Padev. The other man popped up from behind the bar like a wind-up toy, his eyes wide and mouth still chewing on something. Good, he looked fairly comical like that so she wouldn’t be impressed, and if he could keep him on the other side of the room, even better. “Hey, can you verify that foot weevils exist?”
“They absolutely do. I’ve treated many cases. Just last week Armin was in with a terribly infected one between two toes. The swelling was nearly as large as a toe itself and there was so much pus—”
“Thanks, Padev! Let the new doctor know, would you? Go on back to your lunch.” Colan cut him off, because he wanted to retain some semblance of an appetite if possible. Not that the scowling woman still sitting in his booth as if she planned to be there for a few hours was going to improve his digestion.
Colan settled back into his seat and fixed a mild gaze on Lia. She tightened her mouth as if she didn’t like the taste of Joli’s. “There. I disproved your claim and notified Padev in about twenty seconds. Satisfied?”
“Hardly ever,” she grumbled right back. His annoyance disappeared in a wave of satisfaction. She was fun to argue with, especially when he was right. She cleared her throat and poked at her datpad with a slim finger. “What about the party?”
“That’s not how we ask people out for dinner here at the ass end of the Niento Arm.” Colan was rewarded with an indrawn breath as Lia’s eyes widened with outrage.
“I’m not asking you out to dinner. I’m asking you about the community dinner happening in about four hours. If anyone in the community bothers to show up. You’re my community liaison, and I assumed you were out liaising all morning.”
Colan gusted out an exasperated sigh and stood up from his seat again. “Hey! The new folk are throwing a dinner at their place tonight. Come if you want.” A few ragged catcalls greeted his announcement, and as he sat back down, Lia shook her head at him again.
“So, that’s how you do things at the ass end of the Niento Arm?”
“No, that’s how I do things here at Joli’s.” Colan was unaccountably pleased to see her speechless for a few seconds.
Lia didn’t disappoint, she rallied quickly “There are only about ten people in here, including you and me. According to the census there are fifty seven residents of Pearl and another thirty-five at-large citizens. They’re all supposed to be invited.”
“Give them about twenty minutes and everyone’ll know. Except for the shellers way out in the jungle, but they wouldn’t have time to get here anyway.”
Lia’s eyebrows rose. At that moment, Joli toddled over with Colan’s lunch and a sharp look at the woman sitting next to him.
“Here’s your order, Tor. What about you?” Joli asked Lia. The bar owner stood with hands on hips and a challenging expression on her face.
“Ah, it’s lunch time isn’t it?” Lia glanced around as if she’d just noticed people were eating. Was she so devoted to her scheduling she forgot to eat? Since Joli didn’t offer up an explanation of the menu, Colan decided to make up for his earlier rudeness and be more hospitable.
“Yes, she’ll have the special.”
“I will?”
“You will. And something to drink.”
“Like what?” Joli wrinkled her nose as she frowned at Lia.
“Like water?” Lia asked in a doubtful tone.
“Definitely water.” Colan didn’t want her drinking unregulated home brew.
Joli snorted and tu
rned away as Colan looked over his own meal. Steamed curlers, grilled tomatoes, and fried polenta. Perfect. He grabbed a curler and cracked its body apart with a twist that sent droplets of liquid along the table top. Lia drew back, and he glanced at her.
“Sorry. They’re juicy.”
Raising her eyebrows, she wiped her hands on a napkin Joli had left behind. “What did you order for me?”
“This. It’s the special or stew. Which is yesterday’s special in a more liquid form.”
“Thanks. I think.” She pulled out her datpad and started to scroll through items as Colan shucked the curler meat into his mouth and added a bite of polenta. Delicious. She’d stopped scanning her digital to-do lists and watched him chew. “What are those things?”
“Curlers.”
Lia put down her datpad and slid it to the edge of the table. It was on but not in her hand so he supposed that meant she expected some conversation. Lia blinked her brown eyes as she glanced between his meal and him. “I can see they are somewhat curled but beyond that I have no idea what they are.”
“Sort of like a shrimp crossed with a scallop. They live in the sinkholes.”
“You’re eating something that lives in a sinkhole?”
“Until someone fishes them out and steams them.” Colan cracked open another one of the succulent little things and popped it into his mouth with gusto. Her dismay made them taste all the sweeter. “You’ll be eating them too.”
“Maybe not. Are they related to foot weevils?”
“Probably. Not a lot of genetic diversity here.”
“The rest of that looks good. At least I can identify it.”
“You’re on Gamaliel now, high time you learned about some of our local specialties. It’s one of the few fresh proteins we get.” Colan shucked another little invertebrate and held out the eviscerated creature to her. Lia stared at the orange bit of knobby meat with doubt. “Go on. Try it.”
Straightening her shoulders, Lia reached out and picked up the curler. “It’s not going to do something strange to my digestive system is it?”
“No. Completely digestible.” Colan watched her tentatively place it in her mouth and start to chew. She swallowed and licked her lower lip. He wished she wouldn’t do that.
“It’s pretty good.” Lia sounded surprised. A slight smile brightened her face, and he told himself not to feel pleased.
“Of course it is.” Colan shelled a few more and slid them her way along with some of the polenta. Joli was taking far too long with Lia’s order and hadn’t even brought over her water yet. In fact, he hadn’t seen Joli out amongst the tables at all.
“If you’ll excuse me, I want to check on something.” Colan rose as Lia began to eat with growing enthusiasm. She nodded and waved him off.
He headed toward the bar, nodding to a few people as he passed and went to the doors that led to the small kitchen. He spotted Joli leaning on a counter with her arms crossed over her chest. Chef Titon, a grizzled former sheller who’d lost his whole stake on a footrace, propped himself against the opposite counter and neither one seemed to be making any sort of progress with the production of food or drink. Pots and pans hung overhead, and the empty grill hissed and sputtered.
Joli noticed him and swung to face him as Titon watched silently.
“What’s the matter, Tor? Your dining companion throwing off your appetite?”
“No Joli, just wondering where her drink was. I can see her meal isn’t coming any time soon.”
Titon shook his shaved head and turned his back, moving around some tomatoes and onions on a cutting board in a haphazard manner.
“Don’t see why I should serve her anything, considering her people are going to shut me down any moment, take all my business as soon as they open that dining hall of theirs.”
“I don’t think they’re planning on doing that.” Of course, he didn’t know for sure since he’d been happily ignoring all the schedules and new decrees Lia shot his way every few minutes.
“Of course that’s what’s going to happen.” Joli grabbed a towel and wiped at the counter vigorously. “You said it yourself. They’re going to crack down on my brewing. Next will be hygiene inspections and where will I be?” She gestured at her worn down kitchen. It was dingy, but Colan had never thought too closely about how clean she kept it. It seemed best to ignore what went on behind the door so he could eat his food without too much worry. Titon chopped a tomato apart with a loud crack of his knife.
“Are you going to make her a lunch or not?”
“I will. But under protest,” Joli shot back. Colan was tired of people being upset with him. He wanted to return to his quiet deck and forget that he was even on this planet.
“So, I guess you won’t be at the community dinner tonight?”
The look Joli threw him was hot enough to cook a curler. He retreated from her kitchen and tried to think of a way to inform Lia that not only was her lunch going to be slow in arriving, it might not be appetizing when it finally showed up.
Somehow, the cafeteria space in the nearly finished barracks seemed a lot larger before people began to arrive. Lia made her way from person to person to introduce herself and direct the Pearlites to the various food and drink stations. They were definitely happier with the food than her.
Their hospitality manager, Claude Bezo, had set up little appetizer columns here and there prior to serving dinner, and most people were intent on sampling everything, some to excess. Lia watched an older woman methodically eat every last miniature quiche on a serving tray and then hand the plate over to a waiting serve bot.
It was the last functioning serve bot they had. Some compound in the mud of this planet interfered with the smooth operation of their treads. Lia had manually cleaned the carpets throughout the building just before the party started since all the cleaner bots were immobile, their tiny metallic arms frozen in mid-reach. She tried not to notice the muddy boots treading here and there, leaving trails of more debris. Hopefully, Tully would come up with a solution to their problem soon. She didn’t want to spend her free time directing the sonic vacuum if she could help it.
Moca wandered through the room, greeting everyone she encountered as she circulated her way over to Lia’s side. She’d forgone her formal congressional uniform in favor of a brightly colored caftan, gleaming with translucent flash fabric.
“Have you seen Zashi anywhere? I need everyone here.”
“No. The last I saw him he was heading out to the forest dressed for some sort of hike.”
“Do you suppose he’s gotten lost?
“I doubt it. Isn’t he trained to survive on gas clouds and under frozen seas?”
“He is, but I have no idea what sort of rank he earned in those classes. What if he finished last?” Moca twisted up a smile, and Lia grinned back. The magistrate had a good sense of humor, and these events were her natural habitat. She savored every last bit of meet and greet.
“Would you like me to track him down?”
“Not yet. If he doesn’t show by dessert, we’ll have to do something. Ah, look, there’s our liaison. I barely recognize him.” Moca tilted her chin at the cafeteria door, and Lia glanced over to see a handsome man, clean shaven and neatly dressed in a plain civil service uniform. He even had a relatively pleasant expression on his face.
“No, can’t be him.” Lia automatically dismissed the notion. But on closer inspection it was Colan Nestor. A surprisingly civilized-looking Colan Nestor.
“Go entice him in here. I see the head scientist over there, and I want to speak with her.” Moca sauntered off after waving at Colan who nodded in response.
Now that Lia could inspect him thoroughly, she could see he wasn’t as transformed as she’d initially thought. He glanced around as if he was looking for alternate exits, his hands stuffed deep in his trouser pockets. Lia weaved through the crowd toward him, and he watched her approach with a wary expression. His unruly, near-black hair had been brushed back but curls were already
revolting and with the removal of the scruffy stubble from his cheeks and chin, she could see more of an angle of his jaw, which he clenched tight.
“I’m glad you could come.”
“Did I have a choice?”
“We don’t have a holding cell built yet, so we couldn’t have punished you if you didn’t show.”
Colan nodded at her attempt at wit, and his eyes brightened. He really had attractive brown eyes, with a more pleasant expression now than when they were narrowed in annoyance. Lia wondered what to say next.
“Could you introduce me to some Pearlites? Or are they all as disgusted with me as the woman at the restaurant seemed to be?”
“There are probably a few that won’t gag and run away.”
“Are you trying to make me laugh?”
“I guess not, since it didn’t work.”
Lia suppressed a smile. Such low-key charm. Colan watched her for a moment and then peered out at the people wandering around the cafeteria space. Currently, it was a plain cube with few furnishings. When ships arrived full of new settlers needing a place to sleep and eat before heading out to their claims, the cafeteria would hold over two hundred people, but at this point all they had in place were tables and seating for about seventy-five.
“We can go see Wayde and Rob. They’re shellers and have a favor to ask.”
“Does their favor include us packing up and leaving the planet?”
“I don’t think so. But we’d better go and find out for sure.” Colan didn’t spare her a glance, and she narrowed her eyes as she took in his craggy profile. He’d made a couple of jokes in a row. Not only was he neatly dressed, he was also relaxed enough for humor.
