Loritt took another long sip of his Eperon. “How cruel of them.”
“Cruel? It was a mercy. They taught me strength, then I taught them something else.”
“And this is the part where you enlighten me with the wisdom you imparted onto them.”
“Yeah. A swimmer with only one fin always circles back.” As a parting gift, Soolie knocked over Loritt’s stemware with his fin, spilling the Eperon and leaving a crimson streak to soak into the tablecloth. “Be seeing you, Loritt.” The Umulat shoved past Kula and their waiter as they returned to the table.
“I’m ever so sorry,” Loritt said to the waiter. “But I seem to have fumbled my drink. A fresh tablecloth and another glass of this lovely vintage, if you please.”
* * *
First had never seen a party like it in her life. The closest she’d come had been in Florida at Universal Studios when six contractually obligated “performers” in full costume had serenaded her at a Hogwarts main hall table for her twelfth birthday, while five hundred other tourists looked on and applauded in halfhearted disinterest.
This was nothing like that.
Loritt’s penthouse overflowed with her new crewmates, their friends, friends of their friends, and beings whose relationship connections, or even evolutionary paths, were completely opaque to her. Ostensibly, the party was a fund-raiser for some local politician or another, but Jrill said it was really to celebrate breaking out of their contract slump.
The security measures on the patio glass had been turned off entirely as people moved between conversations held over its amazing view and the lure of food and drink inside. It wasn’t Loritt’s first time hosting a party for diverse attendees. All the food platters and bottles were clearly labeled and color-coded for chirality, arsenic versus phosphorus, and liquid methane base. There was even a cistern of aerosol plankton for Fenax and three other Fenaxes at the party to pump into their tanks. First was relieved no one asked her to identify their pilot out of the four of them.
Beyond the food and drink, there was a dizzying array of … pharmaceuticals being passed around. First watched in mixed amazement and horror as every type of party drug imaginable was smoked, snorted, injected, eaten, patched, and inserted into orifices whose biological function she neither knew nor cared to venture to guess. Assembly space was somewhat more permissive about drug use than the municipality she’d grown up with, due in no small part to the presence of Lividites and their chemically dependent emotional expression.
And then, there was the music. A DJ/performer had set up a holographic music deck beyond anything First had ever seen, preloaded with a thousand virtual instruments from a hundred worlds and a catalog of a million songs available on request. The six-armed musician often played three or more instruments at once, acting as backup or adding their own dancehall beat to everything from chamber music, to speed metal, to pieces composed by remixing the sounds of radio burst signals emitted by pulsars.
Then someone requested that damned song again, “Pho Queue,” by the Wolverines. The crowd roared in approval.
“Who are these guys?” First asked aloud, mostly to herself, but she was overheard by … a squid carrot?
“The Wolverines! They’re your kin. Surely you’ve heard of them?”
“I heard them over the radio in a car two days ago. That’s it.”
“Impossible!” the squid carrot proclaimed.
“There are twenty billion humans. No, I don’t know all of them personally, if these guys are even really human. What kind of music is this even?”
“They’re a hair band. It’s blowing up. They’re out on tour of this arm of the galaxy right now. Not even I can score tickets, not for fin or tentacle. Me! Can you believe it?” the unknown alien said, expecting First would understand the gravity of the sentiment without further explanation.
“No, I really can’t,” First said. “You know that music was popular, like, four hundred years ago, right?”
“Light speed delay. We only just got MTV a few cycles ago.”
First rubbed a temple. “That explains so much.”
Hashin appeared with a small plate of appetizers and edibles to save her. “First, I’ve been looking all over for you.” He put a slim gray arm over her shoulder and gently pulled her away from the party guest.
“Thank you. What the hell was that thing?”
“That ‘thing’ is Ulsor Plegis, the politician this fund-raiser is for.”
“What are they running for?” First asked. “Chief of calamari appetizers?”
Hashin shook his head reproachfully. “I have to stay here and keep an eye on the floor. Could you go find the boss for me? He’s supposed to give a little speech before introducing the candidate.”
“Sure. Where’d you see him last?”
“Hallway by his bedroom.”
First nodded and headed for the sleeping quarters, glad to leave the noise and push of the crowd behind for a few minutes. Loritt’s bedroom was the farthest down the hall and to the right, although First wasn’t sure what he needed a bedroom for, as it wasn’t clear his race slept in the first place. First rapped her knuckles on the rich, deep-lavender grain of the door.
“Loritt?” she asked. When no answer came, she knocked harder and turned the old-fashioned knob in the middle of the door. It wasn’t locked, so she pushed it open. “Loritt, Hashin is looking for—”
The shock at what she saw scattered around the bed and floor froze the air in First’s lungs. Loritt’s body had been dismembered—no, ripped apart, and tossed around the room like seventy kilos of shredded pork. Some parts of him still twitched, the violence was so fresh.
The instant First’s diaphragm thawed from the initial trauma, she screamed like a horror movie queen.
Jrill came charging down the hallway like an avenging vulture, Hashin close behind her.
“What’s wrong, girl?” Jrill demanded of her.
“He’s dead!” First said through heaving sobs. “Someone murdered Loritt!”
Jrill pushed past her and threw the door open, only to stop dead, a quizzical look on her face. Then she motioned to Hashin to come and look.
Hashin surveyed the scene from the door before closing it again. “Ah. I see.”
“You handle this, Hashin,” Jrill said. “I have to return to my post.” Without another word, Jrill swept back down the hallway in the direction of the party.
“Where the hell is she going?” First demanded.
“First,” Hashin beckoned her to follow a short way down the hall. “What do you know about Nelihexu?”
“I don’t know.” First fought against hyperventilating just to talk. “They look like somebody skinned a big cat and taught it to walk upright. I just know Loritt was nice to me and now he’s dead.”
Hashin nodded. “Okay, I see the problem. Nelihexu are communal organisms. Just like my body and yours have specialized tissue that make up our organs, they have specialized individual multicellular species that make up their bodies. All these animals live in a community. You know this particular community as Loritt Chessel.”
“Yeah? So?”
“So,” Hashin said, trying to be delicate, “when it’s time for, ah, mating, these communities have to…” Hashin made a coming apart gesture with his hands.
“Oh,” First said one second before the full implication of what he’d said hit here. “Ooh. Uuuuuugh! You mean I just saw Loritt and Kula having sex?!”
“That is exactly what I mean.”
First stuck her fingers in her ears. “Lalalalala!”
The bedroom door flung open, and a visibly agitated Loritt in a hastily tied robe stared out at the two of them. “What in the name of Supol is going on out here?”
First stared at him slack-jawed.
Hashin spoke first. “Nothing, boss. Just a little biology tutorial. But you and Kula should get dressed. You have to introduce our honored guest shortly.”
“Fine.” Loritt’s gaze turned over to First. “An
d what about you, young lady?”
First swallowed. “I’ll be in the bathroom, washing my brain out with ammonia.”
* * *
With the sounds of celebration still ringing in her ears, First wandered back to the apartment she shared with Quarried Themselves for the first time since trying to steal Loritt’s car. She collapsed on the couch like an imploding apartment building.
The last three days had been such a blur of danger and bad decisions that she could scarcely believe it had all fit in sixty-six hours. Had she slept? On the patio the first night, yes, for a while. But since?
First was still wired from the party. Hours of music and dancing still throbbed in her mind and her feet. There was no way she could fall …
Seven hours later, First woke up to the unmoving, slate-gray face of Quarried looming over her. In their defense, Grenic in proximity couldn’t help but seem imposing. It was like waking up to find yourself locked in a staring contest with a giant cement Dali statue.
First got over her initial shock, hopefully quickly enough that her moment of panic didn’t register in Quarried’s tectonic consciousness. She looked around and realized Quarried Themselves held out their delayed-communication box. It blinked red.
With some effort, First managed to pry it free of Quarried’s three-fingered hand and push the playback button.
“Hello, First. You looked cold, so I put a blanket on you.”
First looked down and realized she had indeed been tucked into a comforter that almost covered both of her feet. She smiled and petted it. The playback continued.
“I saved Rocks in Hard Places like you asked. But don’t wait too long to watch it. Our queue is filling up.”
The red light stopped blinking. First smiled warmly at her roommate, then reached out a hand and held it against their cold, hard face for a very, very long time. Long enough, she hoped, for the gesture to register.
She pushed the button again, and it went green to let her know she was recording. “You’re the first friend I’ve made in this strange place, Quarried. That means a lot to me. I brought you some fancy snacks from the party I think you can eat. I got a new job yesterday. It’s going to mean a lot of travel. I don’t know when I’ll be around or for how long, so I’m leaving my share of the rent for the next three months on the table. See you soon.”
She pressed the button again to end the recording and put the green-flashing box back in Quarried’s outstretched hand, then pulled the comforter over her shoulder and tried to get just a little more sleep nestled safely under the protection of her rocky roomie. First had no idea when she’d have another chance.
CHAPTER 7
“I hope you’re all well rested,” Loritt said. A quick survey of the room’s occupants revealed they were not in fact well rested, or even poorly rested. They were, however, consuming prodigious amounts of painkillers and many cups of stimulants. Hashin reached across the table, opened Fenax’s tank, and poured a cup directly onto the top of their body.
“Thank you,” Fenax said blearily.
Surprisingly, First felt fine. She’d slept like a narcoleptic brick the night before and felt better than she had in weeks. Still, she drank a cup of the local coffee equivalent in solidarity with the rest of her squad.
“Success builds on success,” Loritt said, ignoring their misery. “Thanks to our corsair’s appropriation of Space for Rant, the same bank has offered us a closed contract. It’s all ours. No other crew has either the docket or the legal authority to pursue the vessel.”
“Unless we fail to deliver,” First said.
“Naturally. There is also the small issue that the first three crews offered the contract turned it down.”
Hashin slapped another patch on his upper arm. “Crews only turn down contracts because the payout is too cheap or the job is too dangerous.”
“Good news, everyone,” Loritt said. “The payout is excellent.”
Everyone groaned. Loritt ignored them and opened a hologram of their prize. Floating in the air above the table was what looked for all the worlds like a vampire bat crossed with a black widow spider. Everyone groaned louder.
First’s anxiety bounced off the end of the scale and hit the other side. “What the hell is that?” she asked, not for the first time, pointing a shaking finger at the rendering of the ship.
“That,” Jrill said, “is a Skulaq-class destroyer of the Turemok military.”
“You want us to steal a warship?” Sheer asked, agitated enough to click her large claw in a most uncharacteristic display of male aggression. “Are you out of your shell?”
“Former warship,” Loritt corrected her. “Now known as the Pay to Prey. This particular hull was, ah, misplaced during the commotion after the failed attack on Earth five cycles ago. It eventually fell into the hands of a colorful character who calls himself Vel Jut, where it was declared legal salvage by a minor-system bureaucrat I’m sure was well compensated for seeing reason. Anyway, after a lengthy and expensive retrofit, it was repurposed as a ‘business transport’ and disarmed to bring it in line with civilian standards.”
“I’m sure someone was well compensated to sign off on the post-retrofit inspection as well,” Jrill said.
“Fortunate, then, that we have a former Turemok military officer in our midst to spot any trouble before it presents an issue,” Loritt said bitingly.
First raised a hand. “I’m confused. If it’s legally salvage, why is there a bank loan against it in the first place?”
“The loan was not for the ship but the retrofit. The bank paid the yard for their work. Vel Jut has not repaid them.”
“He’s not a real Vel,” Jrill bit off. “Stop calling him one.”
Loritt held out his hands, palms up. “I mean no disrespect to your service, merely relating what he calls himself. Anyway, Jut doesn’t make it out this far very often. His closest approach to Junktion in the coming weeks is half a dozen systems away, if his flight plans are to be trusted. Which they shouldn’t be. Still, we’re going to have to go to him, so pack your kits and a change of clothes.”
“My people do not wear clothes,” Fenax said.
“We know,” First said. “We can all clearly see your dangly bits. What are those, anyway?”
“My feeding appendages,” Fenax said.
“Oh, that’s not so bad.”
“And gonads.”
“Right.”
“While I’m sure we’re all riveted by this remedial anatomy lesson,” Sheer said, “there’s the small matter of how we’re going to get into that ship uninvited. Even if it’s disarmed, it’s still heavily armored with multiple redundant defensive systems and military-grade security protocols.”
Every sensory organ in the room turned toward Jrill expectantly. She straightened under the glare, then relented.
“Yeah, I can do it.”
“Good,” Loritt said. “Then let us get going. And by ‘us,’ I mean the five of you, obviously. Don’t die. Recruiting new crews is an enormous pain.”
* * *
“It’s good to know the boss cares so much for our well-being,” First said less than an hour later as they boarded the commercial transport for the Kaper system.
“He was being coy,” Jrill said. “But he’s not wrong, either. We’re valuable assets. Replacing any one of us costs money, man power, time, and opportunities.”
“Why aren’t we using the Goes Where I’m Towed?”
“Because we don’t want to overuse the Goes Where I’m Towed,” Hashin said from seat 247A. “It’s uninteresting, not invisible.”
First glanced down at seat 247B, her tiny, cramp-inducing home for the next twenty hours. “You’d think Loritt would spring for business class if we’re such an important investment.”
Jrill shrugged. “He’s fronting the bill. If we fail, he’s out economy-class tickets. If we succeed, we all get a bigger payday. You’ll have another chance to prove your worth tomorrow. Until then, embrace the suck.”
/> “Is your entire species such inflexible hard-asses?”
“Yes. Now sit. You’re holding up the line.”
The rest of the passengers squeezed their bodies and other belongings into the diminutive spaces assigned to such things and resigned themselves to a day spent among the stars lost inside a windowless metal tube.
“Where are Sheer and Fenax?” First asked.
“Sheer is in the oversized passengers’ deck, and Fenax is in the cargo hold with our bags.”
“You had them checked as luggage?”
“Those are the rules. The cargo hold is EM shielded to keep anyone from scanning the other passengers’ electronic devices. It also keeps Fenax from hijacking the transport’s computer system.”
“Fenax wouldn’t do that.”
“Our Fenax wouldn’t, not anymore at least. Other Fenax would and have.”
“Isn’t that a bit racist?”
“It’s a precaution. Passengers aren’t allowed in the command cave because they could seize the controls. Fenax could potentially do the same from anywhere except the cargo hold. They don’t mind; their tanks are quite cozy. Fenax is probably playing a flight sim as we speak.”
First, always the rebel, hid her hacker deck under her leg until the transport pulled back from the dock, then pulled it out and started researching whatever weaknesses and work-arounds to Turemok military software the /backnet/ had to offer. Which, as was so often the case, was extensive. Not that First didn’t trust Jrill’s abilities. She just didn’t trust Jrill’s loyalties. And a smart thief always took the time to tease out where the back doors were.
“Why are you here?” Hashin asked sometime after First’s third lavatory trip.
“Because Loritt kidnapped me,” First said. “You helped him do it.”
“No, why were you here to be kidnapped in the first place? Why did you come to Junktion? You were only the third human through the gates. I checked. And the first to stay more than a week. You’re a juvenile, alone, as far from home as anyone in your entire species has ever been. Why are you here?”
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