Open Skies

by Yolande Kleinn

  The lighting inside the bar was dimmer than the corridor outside. Dreary shadows clung to booths and tables, effectively hiding private corners and painting the entire place in discretion. There was so little movement in the grim space that at first Kai thought the establishment was empty. Once his eyes adjusted to the sudden darkness, he realized there were dozens of people crowded into the long, narrow room. Quiet, motionless at their scattered tables, sharing conversations so soft no hint carried above the too-loud music. No one was paying him any attention, and Kai made his way to the emptiest end of the bar.

  Several minutes passed before the bartender set aside whatever she was working on in the far corner and approached Kai.

  The bartender was indeed Karik. Built tall and slim, with a squat face and no neck to speak of. Female, more or less, and smooth in her movements despite the overabundance of joints and sharp edges comprising her figure. She wore a narrow suit with straight skirts. The pale fabric hung flat along the smooth lines of her front, and tight sleeves clung past her wrists. The only skin left visible—if skin was even the right word for the elegant patchwork of leathered creases—were her long fingers and the bald expanse of her head and face.

  Large eyes glinted expressively in the dim light, and she glided close, her gaze lowering to settle curiously on Kai.

  "Something to drink?" she asked. Her voice was a hissing murmur shaped around the human words, putting the question deliberately in his language rather than asking in her own.

  Kai had to tilt his head back to meet her eyes. He let gratitude show in his smile—he spoke some Karikeau dialects well enough in a pinch, but was just as glad he didn't need to prove it—and asked, "Gaiminn Whiskey?" Gaiminn whiskey was a tame variant on the Terran standard, a concoction brewed by a people who appreciated the fine flavor but didn't process alcohol particularly well. Unable to drink the wide variety of human-brewed whiskeys exported between Alliance worlds, Gaiminn entrepreneurs had perfected their own brewing methods that packed significantly less punch than the original.

  "Are you sure you wouldn't prefer something stronger?" the bartender asked, but the faint hint of music shaping the words told him she was teasing. There was no change in her expression as she poured the drink without waiting for his answer, then handed it to him without flourish.

  "Thanks." He accepted the glass but didn't yet drink.

  The bartender put away the squat bottle of whiskey. Without taking her eyes off of Kai, she leaned her first set of elbows on the bar and crossed the second set in front of her flat chest. "You haven't the look of a man who only wants a drink."

  Kai smiled, a quick flash of teeth, and met her gaze steadily. "No," he admitted. "I'm looking for someone."

  Her lipless mouth barely moved as she answered, "You've come to the wrong place, then. Corriah Mor is a terrible place for finding people, and this bar is worse than most."

  "Still." Kai took an appreciative sip of the whiskey in his hand, savoring the dry flavor, the faint burn at the back of his throat. "I'm looking for a human woman. She would have come through here during the war."

  Dark fingers tapped a quick rhythm against pale sleeves and then stilled. "That was some time ago." Again there was a melodic hint of wry humor to the words.

  "Years," Kai conceded. Then, pressing his luck, he asked, "How long have you been aboard Corriah Mor?"

  She blinked and answered, "Long enough, I think. Have you a picture?"

  Kai showed her, holding the image steady. He relinquished it when she unfolded her arms to take it from his hand and stare more closely. Her perpetually still face gave no indication of whether she recognized the human woman, but the fact that she was taking her time about it gave Kai something like hope. Finally she handed the picture back, and Kai tucked it away in his pocket.

  "I've memory of this human," she said, folding her arms once more. "She visited this establishment many times during her stay. I've no knowledge of why she came or why she left."

  "How about where she went?" Kai asked softly.

  The bartender regarded him in disconcerting silence. She held motionless through several seconds that expanded into one full minute, then two. Finally, she answered, "Somewhere in the T'i Yara system, I think." When Kai blinked at her in pleased surprise, she explained, "Humans do not always give credit where it is due. Karikeau hearing, for example, is acknowledged to be the best in this quadrant or any other."

  Kai made a mental note never to make the same mistake himself. "And did you hear anything else about her destination?"

  "No. Your quarry was... circumspect. She was a memorable girl, but I know only that she was running from something dire and in quite a hurry to make her escape."

  Of course she was running. Kai thought of Helena Kanne and what little Ilsa had been able to unearth, a faint trail on the move so soon after the death of Lora Dantes. He tried to imagine what it must have been like for Abigail, running from someone who should've had her back. Running from her own family. Briefly—unkindly—Kai considered the shady, ferocious character of Eleazar Dantes and wondered if there were more going on than Dantes had admitted.

  It was a ridiculous question: of course there was more going on than Dantes had admitted. But there was also wounded sincerity in Dantes's eyes when he spoke about Abigail. There was feeling in his desperation to find his daughter.

  Kai lifted the whiskey glass in a small salute of gratitude. "Thank you. Truly. You've been an enormous help."

  The bartender acknowledged his thanks with a gesture somewhere between a bow and a nod, a brief tip of her head and torso, and then retreated down the bar to assist a new customer. Kai drank another slow sip of his whiskey. When he departed, he left a hefty tip along with the credits to cover his tab.

  He had the rest of the day before him, and an entire station of potential sources to pin down. As he navigated the corridor the way he'd come, he did his best to ignore the nagging voice at the back of his mind, suggesting he had maxed out his luck for the day and would hit only brick walls from here on out.

  *~*~*

  "It's been two days," Dantes announced, his tone cool. "What have you found?"

  Ilsa bit back the instinctive irritation threatening to color her answer. It bothered her that she didn't have more to offer after two entire days aboard station, but she rankled at the impatience in Dantes's words just the same. Ilsa disliked the implication that her efforts weren't good enough, that the failing was somehow hers. Dantes's tone implied that their business on Corriah Mor might already be concluded if Ilsa and Kai were doing their jobs properly.

  There was no point explaining to a man like Eleazar Dantes that they could only find information if it was there to be found in the first place. He was far too accustomed to getting his way. Ilsa exchanged a glance with Kai, seated to her left in the small booth. Both of them sat across from Dantes. The restaurant was noisy chaos around them, busy with a large crowd paying them no mind at all.

  "Mostly we've learned that your daughter is damn good at covering her trail," Ilsa answered. She was proud of herself for managing to sound wry instead of angry. "I tracked her digital footprints while she was aboard the station itself, but I found nothing out of the ordinary. Food, quarters, necessities. All standard expenses. Whatever else she may have spent money on, she was careful not to leave a digital trail. And when I searched for any outbound transport she might've booked, I hit a wall."

  "You couldn't find anything," Dantes guessed. His narrowed eyes made him look distinctly unimpressed. It took Kai gently stepping on her toes to remind Ilsa that glaring daggers at their employer wasn't the best diplomatic choice.

  She smoothed her expression to something neutral and corrected him. "I found too much. Abigail booked seventeen tickets on transports departing for drastically different destinations. She clearly didn't want to be followed."

  "Can't you tell which transport she actually boarded?" Dantes protested. "Unused tickets must be on record somewhere."

  "Of
course they're on record. But the archives don't help us here. I checked: every ticket she purchased was redeemed to secure passage. Abigail could only have boarded one of those ships, but if she gave the other tickets away then there's no telling which passenger was actually her."

  "Her identification documents—" Dantes tried to protest.

  "Were never accessed from the departures terminal," Ilsa interrupted smoothly. "She must have left under false documents."

  "She did," Kai agreed. He was slouched forward, his arms crossed and resting atop the table. "Unfortunately, there's no hope of tracking down whoever sold them to her. That crowd left for greener pastures years ago."

  "Meaning we've got nothing." Dantes scowled. Frustration visibly tightened his shoulders beneath the dark suit jacket he insisted on wearing.

  To Ilsa's surprise, Kai countered, "We've got a little better than nothing."

  She turned to him, eyebrows high. "Have we?"

  His expression was serious enough, but Ilsa deciphered a gleam of levity in the hazel tint of his eyes. He kept his voice level and steady as he asked her, "Did you find any destinations near T'i Yara?"

  Ilsa gaped openly. "Yes. Just one. Chasper." Chasper was scarcely a moon, a rock circling the inhospitable fourth planet in the T'i Yara solar system. What little commerce had collected on Chasper centered around the constantly expanding mining efforts on the planet below. Chasper itself boasted little except the port, and a crowded colony scattered beneath the atmospheric domes covering the surface of the moon.

  Kai nodded, pleased and a little bit smug. "That's where she went. We should see how soon there's a transport available to take us there."

  Ilsa looked that very night, but choices were limited. There was one mercenary vessel, unaccustomed to passengers, departing for Chasper at an ungodly hour the next morning. The captain, a surly Frith with a spidery figure and disposition, was willing to lend them a crewmen's bunk in exchange for an unconscionably steep fee.

  The next commercial liner bound for the T'i Yara system wouldn't be departing for two weeks, and would arrive on the wrong side of the solar system to boot.

  Ilsa booked the crewmen's quarters on the Frith's shabby gundalow, and they were en route with record speed.

  "This is unacceptable," Dantes announced on first glimpse of the room they were all three intended to share.

  Ilsa silently agreed. She had little problem with the dingy aura of disuse or the hint of rust along the walls. She had certainly traveled in shabbier, dirtier accommodations than this. But the room was minuscule, even by the standards of mercenary space travel, with only a narrow aisle of floor between the bunks. The bunks themselves were long and narrow, nestled directly inside the interior bulkheads like small, uninviting caves. There were only the two bunks, one on each side of the room, which meant someone would be either sleeping on the gritty floor or sharing a bed.

  "It's not that big a deal," Kai protested from the doorframe, but even he sounded more tired than convinced. "Anyway, it's too late to make them turn the ship around."

  Dantes clearly didn't appreciate Kai's lack of unease. His mouth turned down at the corners and his brow furrowed deeply. He gave off the distinct impression of raised hackles and hardening ire, and Ilsa didn't plan on trying to talk sense into him.

  "You think spending four days in these... accommodations isn't cause for concern?" Dantes growled, glaring about him with obvious disdain. "Fine. You can stay. I'm going to have a word with the captain."

  Kai stepped aside as Dantes stormed for the door, allowing him past without protest. The impassive look on Kai's face was belied by the smug glint that made his eyes look more green than hazel. Dantes's angry footsteps faded down the corridor, and Kai stepped fully into the room. The door slid closed with a dull clunk behind him.

  "He won't be bribing his way to better arrangements," Ilsa murmured, allowing amusement to sneak into the words. "I hacked the crew's roster before we boarded. This is literally the only available berth, and they had to rearrange their own sleeping assignments to open it for us in the first place. They don't have any roomier living spaces. Not even for the captain."

  Kai grinned and slid the heavy bag from his shoulder, setting it in the corner beside Ilsa's rucksack. "I suppose Dantes will want one of these bunks to himself, then."

  "I'm sure as hell not sharing with him," Ilsa retorted dryly. "You're certainly welcome to try."

  Kai laughed, but ultimately slipped into the bunk behind Ilsa after dimming the overhead lights. It wasn't nighttime according to the ship's arbitrary chronometer, but the unreasonable hour of departure had prevented any of them from sleeping the night before. Ilsa could barely keep her eyes open now that she was settled, and she knew sleep would claim her quickly despite the cool air and the stale odor of the bunk.

  Space travel was, by its very nature, chilly. Both Kai and Ilsa slept in multiple layers, but that wasn't always enough. A history of close quarters made their current arrangement familiar, and Ilsa turned onto her side facing the wall of the narrow berth. Kai shifted wordlessly behind her, scooting more securely onto the stiff mattress and trying to get comfortable. He hesitated an extra, inexplicable moment before curling close behind her, but he settled easily once there. His front offered pleasant warmth along Ilsa's spine, fending off the lingering chill. A moment later, his arm slipped about her waist, pressing her close.

  Ilsa was rarely one to seek out physical affection, but she enjoyed the uncomplicated warmth of contact when it came unasked. There was an almost tangible feeling of safety in being held this way. Fondness for Kai swelled in her chest, and she listened to the quiet, steady rhythm of his breathing slowing into sleep.

  Chapter Three

  They reached Chasper at moon-standard midnight. The Frith vessel put down beside the largest of several dozen domes that comprised the colony. Kai wished, as fruitlessly as ever, that he could actually see as the ship approached via steep orbit and finally landed on the uninviting rock of the moon's natural ground. As it was, he could faintly imagine the city-sized dome growing larger and larger, dwarfing the cargo vessel until the dome overwhelmed the entire horizon.

  The gundalow gave a groaning shudder as it settled on its landing struts, and audible clangs and pops echoed through the bulkheads. The artificial gravity cut abruptly off, and even though he'd been expecting it, the change sent an unpleasant shiver along the length of Kai's spine. He felt too light in his own body now. The moon's natural gravity was barely two-thirds the strength of the artificial system aboard ship, and it pulled even less compared to Naius V so many days behind them.

  Seated beside Kai on the edge of their bunk, Ilsa gave no indication that the sudden shift had discomfited her.

  Pacing near the door, Dantes was wearing a sour expression that made it impossible to mistake his feelings on the matter. Kai could sympathize, but he still had to quash a rumble of amusement. Dantes's current resemblance to a riled house cat was uncanny, but it didn't take a genius to suss out that he wouldn't appreciate the comparison.

  The dock itself was dead and quiet when they disembarked through the narrow connecting corridors onto solid ground. The only sounds of life came from the scattered crew disembarking simultaneously alongside them. There were port staff standing near a couple of work stations, but there were no echoes of conversation. No one was speaking. Of all the staff members, not a single one of them was human. They all watched the newcomers with the wary attention of night crew and underpaid security.

  The dockside floor was vast and sullen, tinted blue by the faint glow of safety lights. A dull, steady grind of machinery throbbed through the open space. The section of dome above was unexpectedly clear, offering a view of midnight sky and a sweeping swathe of unfamiliar stars.

  Dantes paid no apparent mind to the view as he strode towards the only occupied arrivals kiosk. Kai meant to follow, but glanced to his left first. Ilsa had stopped in her tracks and was staring straight up through the transparent dome,
taking in the sprawling sky. There was a calm settling across her shoulders and easing the tightness she'd been carrying since they departed Naius V. This shielded arena didn't exactly count as open air, but it was certainly closer than any confined ship or station could offer.

  Of course Ilsa was more at ease here; she had her feet on solid ground.

  Kai didn't hurry her, though he knew Dantes would grow impatient soon. He simply watched, appreciating the unguarded glimpse, the image Ilsa made in her long coat and tightly braided hair. The moment he started appreciating the smooth line of her throat, Kai forced himself to look away. He glanced ahead of them to where Dantes had clearly concluded his business and now stood waiting with folded arms. Even at this distance, Kai could make out a speculative curiosity on Dantes's face, and he reluctantly nudged Ilsa with one elbow.

  "Sorry," she murmured. Her face lowered once more to acknowledge their immediate surroundings. The two fell into step, side by side, and joined Dantes at the far end of the dock.

  Their accommodations that night were cramped but separate, and Kai began his usual routine the very next morning, searching out the nearest commercial establishments before venturing farther into the city. It was difficult—there was far more ground to cover, more distance between shops, more residents and none of them human—but he kept to his questions. He continued stubbornly forward across two, three, four days of determined searching.

  No one recognized Abigail Dantes.

  Many current residents had been around during the war, and all admitted that plenty of humans had passed through. But everyone Kai questioned gave some equivalent of a helpless shrug before admitting they really couldn't distinguish one human from the next. They might have seen her. They simply didn't know.

  Despite experience reminding him that this was a perfectly common setback, Kai still resented having to admit how much nothing he'd found when he met Dantes for dinner each night. It didn't help that he was meeting the man alone; Ilsa had buried herself in her own quarters and refused to interrupt her work long enough to emerge.