“What can I do for ye?” she asked.
“We’re skiptraces from animal control, we’ve come about your slug problem,” I said declared. Ylva nodded and curled a finger for us to follow her. It wasn’t that easy, of course, given the fact that we had to wade through a very thick crowd while she got to walk a clear path behind the bar. I considered leaping over it, but that seemed uncouth.
Ariadne and I caught back up with Ylva at the end of the bar and she took us through the massive double doors of the kitchen.
“We dinnae have a problem until just this morning,” the bartender said, leading us into the largely metallic kitchen. A lot of the appliances were obviously Centauri, not surprising given the fact that Myrkheim was the waystation between Proxima and Earth. But even with this inhospitable tech, there were enough organic components in the walls and falsebone floor to house a decent-sized infestation. “All of a sudden they overran us.”
The two cooks looked at us a little suspiciously, but didn’t stop their work. One did harrumph loudly as a hungry Ariadne poked her nose over a pot of something that was undoubtedly mushroom stew. It smelled earthy and warm. Unfortunately, I missed the expression she shot back at him.
Ylva had led us to another set of doors, gesturing to a half-eaten corner of the doorframe and leading us into what appeared to be an herb garden. I heard Ariadne make a small gagging noise as the slugs in the doorframe began to squirm as the door opened and closed. I swallowed again and entered the herb garden bravely.
Well, it mostly used to be an herb garden, being filled with plants looking little better than the doorframe. Slugs squirmed all over the place, chowing down on leaves and organic structure alike. I walked over to one of the low, table-like beds. The slugs were even disappearing underneath the layers of cloth that allowed the plants to root. There was no real dirt on the station; most gardens were either for water-based plants, fungi, lichens, or algae, none of which required soil, or used some form of dirt substitute for the plants to hold on to, like layers of cloth or paper. In a few places, the slugs were even eating away at the cloth itself.
I cringed.
This was my life for the moment: chief slug remover.
Of course, I was faring better than Ariadne, who had her hands pulled back into her sleeves, looking around cautiously at the slimed and dying plants. I tried picking out the worst areas, presuming that would be the best place to pour out the beer and release the beetles, but it all looked like the same, like a gooey nightmare.
“What areas have been the worst hit?” I finally asked Ylva.
“The thyme and rosemary were hit the hardest; but our seedlings are nae much better. The slugs haven’t touched the mint,” the barkeep said, leading Ariadne and I to the specified areas. She was right — the slugs hadn’t touched the mint. The plants were a happy, optimistic oasis in the middle of a gooey, gooey apocalypse.
“Alright,” I said, looking at Ariadne. She gave me a wide-eyed gaze.
“What?” she asked.
“The beer? You opened it and tasted it, so you get to pour it out,” I said gesturing to the slimy pile of dead plant.
Ariadne didn’t say anything, pouring a measured amount of the surprisingly sweet-smelling beer. She gestured as if to confirm that she did, in fact, fulfill her part of the bargain.
“You go to the other areas, and I’ll start releasing the beetles,” I said bravely. As it turns out, the easiest way to release a bunch of beetles is to open the box, let them crawl all over your hands, stifle a scream, and carefully walk over to each beer trap and shake off beetles, all the while cursing the day you were born. I swear Ylva sniggered at my beetle-covered hands.
“All done,” I said, scraping the last purplish beetle from my hand. I could still feel them crawling all over my skin. Ariadne looked like she’d finished drinking the slug-beer. “You’ll need to keep the kitchen locked for about 24 hours. The beetles will be dead by then and you can clean up.”
“I figured as much,” Ylva said, with an understanding nod.
I nodded and led the almost shell-shocked Ariadne out of the kitchen. Ylva followed, locking the doors as we went.
“Thank ye ladies very much!” she said with a smile. I smiled back at least a little. “I believe we advertised a bonus in the bounty, correct?”
Ariadne and I nodded in unison, which was a little embarrassing.
“Well, ye have a choice…” Ylva said.
“Can we come back for a meal?” Ariadne boldly asked.
“Really? After what you just saw in the kitchen?” I whispered fiercely.
“Yes. I want a guaranteed hot meal and I don’t care where it’s from,” she said defiantly. I shrugged.
“A meal will work fine. The beetles will be dead in 24 hours, yes?” Ylva asked and I nodded. “Then come tomorrow, two hours from the time it is now. Mr. Jones will want the kitchen cleaned well.”
“It’s a deal,” Ariadne said enthusiastically. We both shook Ylva’s hand and made our way back to the animal control office.
For the next day, we dashed all around the colony, curing infestations and capturing strays. For the most part, we stuck with the light bounties, which didn’t pay a lot, but working for 18 hours straight made us feel financially secure enough to eat a cheap meal and sleep it off in the Lilstar.
We also managed to make a brief stop at the Transportation Agency to see if we could pick up Ottoman’s trail. Inexplicably, there were not one or two ‘Ottoman Lees’ on Myrkheim, but four. Thankfully it turned out that two of them could be ruled out immediately, one being a woman and the other being a six-month-old. Neither Ariadne nor I had enough time to continue following the paper trail of the other two, however. Trying to make enough money to survive was taking precedence.
The next morning was most of the same. We stopped by animal control, picked out our bounties and got talked at by Mildred regarding the specimen of predator or type of humane trap and bait we needed. It wasn’t necessarily pleasant work, plus it made me feel like a Skiptrace Junior Edition, taking bounties on such things as singing, bioluminescent cockroaches rather than actual criminals, but at least I was working.
Exactly two hours past the 24-hour lockdown of Jones’ kitchen, we arrived at the restaurant/nightclub. It was a little less busy, but not by much. Ylva, however, welcomed us to the best seats at the bar.
“How’s the slug problem?” I asked.
“All gone, thanks to you lasses. The herbs should be bounding back in no time. What can I get for ye?” the eye-patched bartender said.
“I need food, so let’s do…” the princess said, looking over the menu somewhat chaotically. “A grilled cheese and a water.”
“And for you?” Ylva turned toward me. I glanced at the neat rows of liquors behind her, taking brief stock of each one. Then I sighed, gave Ylva a tired look, and just said, “I’ll have the same.” To which she chuckled understandingly.
I sat rubbing my temples as Ariadne began to groove to the music. I had to admit, it was nice to listen to, but she was on a whole other level of enjoyment.
“Do you dance?” she suddenly turned and asked me. I shrugged half-heartedly.
“Not really. You?” I sipped my water as Ylva brought our orders out. The princess shrugged, herself, as she crunched down on what smelled like a heavenly sandwich. Taking a bite of mine, I determined that assumption to be correct. There had to have been three or four different kinds of cheeses at least, all bringing together different notes and harmonizing with something that had to be oregano. Whoever was the creator of such a heavenly food was a genius.
“Nah, I just like music,” Ariadne tore off a piece of her grilled cheese with her fingers and chewed it thoughtfully. “What do you like?”
“I dunno,” I said, thinking over my options. I had used to like “things,” music, jewelry, poetry, radio programs, brightly colored toys, and hair doo-dads, but that was an awfully long time ago. Revenge is an all-consuming business and I hadn’t had enough
time yet to switch from grieving avenger back to normal Marcie…if she still existed. I didn’t really know what I liked anymore. “I guess I like putting bad guys in their place.”
Ariadne nodded without any sort of judgement. In fact, she seemed to be contemplating my answer like it was something new to be explored. At least, that was what her expression said, though she may have just been enjoying her grilled cheese. I started to retreat into my glass of water, falling down a rabbit hole of self-analysis. I probably should figure out something to do with my life aside from catching bad guys. Especially since it could all end abruptly if we didn’t catch Ottoman in time. I supposed I could go work at a factory somewhere. Or maybe get an internship with a real skiptrace. That seemed like a good option. I had quite a few of the basics down, chasing after my…well my predecessor. I could make a living off bounties. I’d even heard some skiptraces make up to—
“Hey, hey hey!” the princess suddenly got excited, interrupted my thoughts, and began to tap me repeatedly. She spun in her chair, finally looking away from the dancefloor. She whispered almost vainly: “Really cute guy at my 4 o’clock.”
I, of course, threw subtlety out the window and stuck my face in the air to get a good look at him.
“Which one? The short guy with a lip piercing?” I asked, picking a random person out of the crowd. Of course I could spot which one was the “cute guy” Ariadne was cooing over, because he stood well above most of the other patrons. He was probably a station brat who grew up in the slightly lessened gravity of Myrkheim. He sported an immaculately fluffy Mohawk, artfully placed bioluminescent dots along his already elegant face, and at least two piercings in each ear. Even my un-refined man radar could tell that this guy, with his high cheekbones and easy smile, was a little above attractive.
“What? No, the tall one over there,” Ariadne cast a furtive glance toward him.
“Huh, let’s call him over here,” I began to stand up to catch his attention, a feat I managed before the princess pulled me forcibly back down into my seat. The Mohawk waved back to me and started to move toward the bar. He passed through the crowd with ease, so I surmised he was at least a regular.
“Have you gone utterly bat-faced?” Ariadne asked with unspeakable horror on her face.
“You said you thought he was cute. I figured I may as well call him over so you can say hi,” I said innocently. The princess simply sputtered and tried to hide within her grilled cheese as the cute guy slowly made his way over. To my surprise, he didn’t greet us from this side of the bar, instead walking around to the other side, greeting Ylva with a friendly kiss to the cheek.
“Hello, ladies! You are the gals from the animal control, correct?” He smiled easily and his voice was rich as molasses. Ariadne continued to inspect her sandwich.
“Yes, we are,” I said, refusing to be dazzled by this man.
“Apologies for not thanking you two earlier; it has been a busy few days.” I swear this man could tell me he was a monkey’s uncle and I’d believe it. Ariadne would believe it doubly.
“You’re very welcome. Actually, I’ll be honest, I called you over for my friend here, Ariadne King,” I patted the princess’ back as if to prevent her from the choking fit I knew would descend upon her. She probably would have glared me to death if not for Mr. Mohawk’s disarming smile. His eyes almost disappeared in all the sunshine he was producing.
“Well, it is nice to meet you, Miss King,” the smile persisted as he presented a hand to Ariadne. He kissed the back of hers when she finally gave up on the sandwich camouflage. “I am Leopold Jones, proprietor of this establishment.”
“Oh, thank you — I mean, you have a lovely place here,” the princess said, flustered, but I applauded her bravery.
Of course, she still came across as the height of graceful royalty, if immensely shy. She was working the whole flirty-head-tilt-and-batting-eyelash trick for all it was worth. Leopold seemed charmed, and not just as a proprietor trying to please his patrons.
“Thank you, Miss King. Please, never hesitate to ask if you need anything. I will be sure to handle it personally.” His smile persisted. The two held hands for a few seconds longer than was actually necessary and Ylva and I exchanged a look that was part eye roll, part shrug. At least for this moment, Ariadne and Leopold were meant for each other.
“Oh, this is my friend and co-conspirator, Marcie Dunn,” Ariadne suddenly said, finally removing her hand and gesturing to me. Leopold gave my hand the same kiss and excellent smile, but let go of it just a few seconds more quickly. I gave Ylva a second look, to which she chuckled.
“Technically I’m the conspirator, she is the pilot,” I said, leaning on the bar flirtatiously, making Ariadne compete just a little. Not that I was the slightest bit interested in Leopold, but I had to make sure she put a whole foot into pursuing him. It worked, and after almost forcefully shoving her plate aside, the princess moved to lean even farther into the bar than I was. I kept the ‘ah-ha!’ part of my smile internal.
“Really? What are you ladies conspiring for? Or against?” Leopold said, gesturing to take Ylva’s spot in mixing drinks so he could keep talking to us.
“Oh, we’re in the skiptrace business. I own the ship and she knows how to find the bad guys,” Ariadne let the words roll off her overly gentle demeanor. I realized that I should have been taking notes; I might be able to adapt her technique in the future. Of course, pulling off her level of grace was something at the very least improbable for anyone who was not a King.
“Skiptraces? That is an exciting line of work.” I felt honored that Leopold took a moment to nod in my direction before returning his undivided attention to Ariadne.
“It’s not so bad. We get to travel around quite a bit and see interesting places,” the princess said, casually drawing invisible doodles in the bar.
Yes, I chided her internally, almost three weeks from Earth to Myrheim via Meropis-C in a tiny, two-person ship. It wasn’t exactly a vacation on Eden-3, but I kept that to myself. Leopold gazed at her like she was a golden chalice filled with silver wine, something altogether too beautiful and too captivating to look away, so I didn’t have the heart to ruin the moment using that particular method.
That didn’t mean I wasn’t wracking my brain trying to come up with a different way to break things off. A sudden slap of reality to fracture the encounter, leaving both Ariadne and Leopold with a cliffhanger; a reason for another rendezvous.
I gasped, looking frantically at the clock above the bar.
“What?” Ariadne asked, still mostly distracted by Leopold.
“We need to get to animal control before it closes,” I explained, standing up and tugging Ariadne’s arm gently.
“What? Now? It’s midday, and they stay open all afternoon.” She turned her whole attention to me.
“I know, but we want to catch it before it closes for lunch and we have to wait a whole hour or more before we can get our next bounty,” I said. The princess looked at me almost sadly, so I added quietly: “If we don’t get another bounty, we can’t afford to eat here and restock the ship.”
“Oh, all right,” Ariadne finally acquiesced, looking back at Leopold. “I’ll be back later.”
“This seat will be waiting,” he said smoothly, waving until we were out of sight.
Ariadne sighed dreamily.
I smiled triumphantly.
Eight
“OW!” I yelled as I banged my head against the falsebone beam. The kitten had decided to bite me, behavior I didn’t necessarily agree with, but definitely understood. I was the one who had mysteriously whisked his mom and brother away and now threatened him and his remaining two siblings with my grabby little hands.
“Are you okay?” Ariadne called out from below. She held the humane box with the kitten’s yowling mother and third sibling.
Somehow I had drawn the short straw and got to climb up into this home’s crawlspace.
“Yep,” I said, gently handing her the little bite
r. The mother cat didn’t seem to be appeased at the fact that three out of four of her kittens were still missing. Of course, the three remaining in the attic continued to cry out to their mother pitifully, which was not helping matters. I managed to corral them into a corner and avoid their razor-sharp claws, handing one off to Ariadne before climbing carefully back down the ladder with both of the remaining kittens.
“All done,” I sighed. Of course, the Centauri family couldn’t understand what I was saying, so they merely nodded with concerned but curious faces. The little boy took a few steps toward the cat-filled box before his mother pulled him back. I waved in a friendly manner to them before Ariadne and I began our long walk back to animal control.
“Think the Lilstar has a mice problem?” I almost suggested hopefully. Kittens were my one true weakness. That and a good slice of nutty pie.
“Unfortunately, I’m not certain we want to be in a 300-square-foot ship with a cat,” she said flatly.
“You have a point,” I agreed with reluctance.
Although the animal control office was still as busy as always, Ariadne and I had made enough of an impression over the past week to be allowed to cut to the front of the line without any trouble.
Well, aside from the scowls of skiptraces that still had to wait in line like animal control peasants.
“Here you go! Mysterious crying sound from above solved,” I said as Ariadne presented the cat-box.
“What is this? Cats?” the clerk blinked in surprise.
“Yes?” I suggested.
Set'em Up Page 10
