The place smells of smoke and unwashed bodies, which is about what I expected. Pointing to an empty corner booth, I shoo the princesses to sit out of sight. Anya stares at all the people with wide eyes. She’s spent her entire life on Neyla Ve, I’m sure other planets are wild to her, let alone a floating city with less-than-savory types from all over the galaxy.
None of the bartenders appear particularly familiar and I squeeze my way toward the front through all the bodies. Lalia stays with Yvonne and Anya, looking considerably more threatening in her rougher clothes and more than one or two visible weapons. Zane squishes through the crowd, following me.
“Hi there—” says a woman drifting around the bar, before getting close enough to see my eyes and backing away. Giving Zane a once-over, she melts into the crowd.
I snort, then regret the way it makes my respirator difficult to breathe in.
The bar is much like the rest of the city—a slab of metal along the wall. Glasses and bottles line the wall behind in a myriad of colors, and I’m not going to be trying my luck with any of them this time.
Eyeballing each of the five bartenders, I pick the one who seems least likely to pull a weapon on me and make my way toward him. He’s a grizzled-looking old man and has probably seen his fair share of weirdos like me if he’s spent any significant time on this floating trash heap. Someone bumps into my back, moving me more out of surprise rather than their strength.
“Watch your—” the man swings around gets one look at what he bumped into, and lurches into the crowd without finishing his thought. I wonder how many times that’s going to happen. This time, it’s Zane who snorts more in disgust than amusement.
The old bartender has his pale eyes on me when I turn back around. This place is loud, thrumming with music—which my ears don’t appreciate—and the shouts of those trying to talk to one another over the sound. Some are dancing along the other side of the room. It isn’t a large area, barely controlled chaos in every way, and no one pays me any mind unless they’re right up on me.
Could be worse.
Leaning over the bar so I don’t have to shout quite as loudly—at least my ears are new, even if they don’t like the music—I say, “I’m looking for Cath.”
The old man raises an eyebrow, glancing at Zane just behind me before putting down the glass he was cleaning. He has an implant next to his eyes, just a little nub of metal, but it looks to be a port of a small holographic screen, not something Amerov would install. Nothing about him says cyborg.
When he doesn’t immediately respond, just squints at every inch of me, I ask, “Does she still own this place?”
Finally, he nods, “Who are you?”
As far as I know, there’s no reason to trick the old woman out here, so I say, “Aaron.”
Nothing like recognition flickers across his face. “What do you want?”
“I just need to talk about some directions to this city. I’m not gonna cause her any harm.”
“What directions? I can help you.”
I give him a good look over. What we’re doing isn’t technically illegal. We’re testing my old DNA file, which is not bad in and of itself, and neither is being an unregistered number. The illegal part is that I have an old Amerov file. And that I have no idea if this guy will tell us to go one place and let someone know we’re heading there to ambush us. He could send us into a trap. Cath could too, but at least I’ve had dealings with her before. And as far as I remember, she knows enough that she probably gets the idea that screwing me over isn’t a fantastic plan.
“I’d like to talk to Cath if you wouldn’t mind. I know her.”
I’m prepared for him to argue, but he only shrugs and says, “It’ll be a few minutes…maybe, maybe you should wait outside.”
Because we’re weird and have already freaked out two customers. “Sure.”
Around the back of the bar is a set of stairs he disappears up. I vaguely remember this place, and I think Cath lives on the upper levels. I met her trying to get information on the best places to work with other bounty hunters, back when I was too stupid to know better. She was nice enough and pointed me in the right direction, and didn’t make a face about my appearance—maybe because I was barely older than a kid at that point and easier to pity—and the one time I came back here, I stopped by this place just to say hello. I don’t trust her and don’t really like her company, but she was helpful to me when I needed it, and hasn’t had anything up her sleeve to this point.
Nudging Zane, I say, “Let’s wait out front. Fewer people, anyway.”
With the humans herded back outside, we hover near the front, wandering near the closest few shops, still able to see the front of the bar. Yvonne is poking around an eatery serving unfamiliar food, paying for something served up in grease paper. Anya clings to her and Zane wanders behind, hand under his coat where I know he keeps a gun as I do. Lalia hovers around me. I poke around in the next shop, selling a little bit of everything pocket-sized one can think of, eyeballing the bar.
After two whole minutes of silence, Lalia asks, “How you doing?”
I glance her way. Even under the mask, she looks tense. Her eyes hold a lot of weight, and she isn’t making the usual amount of intense eye contact. Any delay is probably stressing her out.
“Well enough. You look like you’ve taken my place.”
She squints.
“Like you want to crawl into a hole and bury yourself with dirt.”
I get a snort for the bad joke. She shrugs and stuffs her hands in the pocket of her oversized coat. She picked it up from her parent’s house and it’s odd seeing her in new clothes.
“Actually, I figured you’d be the most stressed of all of us.”
“What can I say, I’m busy enough worrying about one of you getting in trouble.” I stand on my toes to check on the princesses and Zane one shop over. Anya has some sort of dumpling in her mouth. A little nervously, I bounce Bat gently in his pack. “I guess I’m bad at multitasking.”
Picking up some of the tasers on display, small enough to fit in the palm and built like flashlights, I turn one on and then off when the owner glares at me. Yvonne lost hers somewhere along the way and I’ve never had much use for one, but I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to have one. I buy one for myself and one for Yvonne without much discomfort from the ship owner, briefly considering buying a smaller one for Anya before thinking better of it. She’d only end up tasering herself.
“You sure you’re alright?” Lalia asks.
As much as I’m becoming accustomed to their concern, I have a difficult time not rolling my eyes. “I will be if you don’t stress me out asking me if I’m alright so much.”
She grimaces under the mask. “Right, sorry.”
Feeling a little bad for how nervous she obviously is, I nudge her in the arm as we walk out. She leans back against me.
“Here,” I say, handing Yvonne the taser.
She snorts and grabs it, eating the last of whatever food she was brave enough to try in this place. “I want to make a remark about how romantic but honestly this is the exact type of thing you should get me.”
Anya giggles. “I thought guys are supposed to get girls flowers and stuff.”
Alright, this is not how I wanted this interaction to go. “Maybe if your sister wasn’t so psycho I’d get her some flowers.”
“Oooooooooo,” Zane mumbles under his breath. I have to physically restrain myself from punching him in his newly-healed ribs.
Anya cackles and my face turns much too hot for comfort. When is that bartender coming back?
Yvonne just grins at me before shoving her mask back in place, then she coughs. “Great, I can smell my breath in this thing.”
“What did you even eat?” Lalia says, eyeballing the racks of differently cooked meats.
“I dunno. It was good though. Kinda chewy.”
In my backpack, Bat snorts. I’m about to consider tying something myself when I spot the old man stepping onto the street, spotting us, and waving for us to come back inside.
“You all stay back inside the bar,” I say, learning them back. “It’s too much commotion out here, just keep to yourselves and don’t talk to anyone.”
Glancing at Zane, I ask, “Stay here with the girls, will ya?”
He makes a face.
“Look, I have Bat and I can call you on the comm. I’m just asking for directions, I’m not leaving you out of anything.”
“Fine, fine,” he mutters, giving my shoulder a light smack. “I’ll babysit the princesses.”
“Excuse me,” Yvonne elbows him in the arm as we push our way back inside and they head toward the booths. “I’ll have you know I’m plenty capable of tasering people on my own.”
“I remember. Back on Amethyst, you threaten to electrocute my—”
Smirking to myself, I push through the crowd away from them and head up the stairs behind the bartender. Bat’s chin touches my shoulder, but when I reach back he’s keeping his big ears down and out of view.
It’s a relief to get out of the crowded bar and all the smell. I move the respirator down to hang off my neck. I didn’t need it in the first place, and I don’t suspect anyone up here is going to recognize me. There aren’t many lights, and it’s still dark and a bit dingy.
The door at the top of the stairwell slides open, and the old man goes in before me. Keeping my hand off my gun despite my better judgment, I step slowly into the doorway. Paranoid or not, I’ve been surprised too many times these past months by people trying to off me. It isn’t paranoid if people actually are trying to kill me.
It smells much better up here, like spices and the unknown sweetness of vegetables I’ve never come across. A sizzle comes from the kitchen.
Cath comes bustling around the corner of the kitchen into the living room I’ve found myself in, significantly older than I remember and carrying a shotgun that’ll put a hole through me the size of my fist. Still, I don’t put my hand on my gun.
“Be taking your hood off, now?” she says, gesturing with the barrel of the rifle.
Right, forgot I had it on. I push it back slowly, not making sudden movements.
She squints at me, cocks her head, and leans the gun against the couch. “Wow, it really is you. Can’t be believing you’re still alive.”
“Me neither, most days.”
She cracks a smile, nodding to the old man who brought me up. He doesn’t look particularly happy about it, and casts me quite a sour look as he passes, leaving us together. As much as I like the friendly old woman, I don’t tell Bat to come out. The black market parts for me aren’t nearly as interesting as they are for him, and I don’t want to tempt fate.
She gives me another look over that makes me want to crawl into a hole, but the last time she saw me I was still a skinny teenager, so I suppose I can’t fault her. Not that I’m not still skinny…
“You are still like twig,” she says, and I let myself laugh once. “You should learn to eat when chasing bounties. I’m making food. Sit.”
The place smells of smoke and unwashed bodies, which is about what I expected. Pointing to an empty corner booth, I shoo the princesses to sit out of sight. Anya stares at all the people with wide eyes. She’s spent her entire life on Neyla Ve, I’m sure other planets are wild to her, let alone a floating city with less-than-savory types from all over the galaxy.
None of the bartenders appear particularly familiar and I squeeze my way toward the front through all the bodies. Lalia stays with Yvonne and Anya, looking considerably more threatening in her rougher clothes and more than one or two visible weapons. Zane squishes through the crowd, following me.
“Hi there—” says a woman drifting around the bar, before getting close enough to see my eyes and backing away. Giving Zane a once-over, she melts into the crowd.
I snort, then regret the way it makes my respirator difficult to breathe in.
The bar is much like the rest of the city—a slab of metal along the wall. Glasses and bottles line the wall behind in a myriad of colors, and I’m not going to be trying my luck with any of them this time.
Eyeballing each of the five bartenders, I pick the one who seems least likely to pull a weapon on me and make my way toward him. He’s a grizzled-looking old man and has probably seen his fair share of weirdos like me if he’s spent any significant time on this floating trash heap. Someone bumps into my back, moving me more out of surprise rather than their strength.
“Watch your—” the man swings around gets one look at what he bumped into, and lurches into the crowd without finishing his thought. I wonder how many times that’s going to happen. This time, it’s Zane who snorts more in disgust than amusement.
The old bartender has his pale eyes on me when I turn back around. This place is loud, thrumming with music—which my ears don’t appreciate—and the shouts of those trying to talk to one another over the sound. Some are dancing along the other side of the room. It isn’t a large area, barely controlled chaos in every way, and no one pays me any mind unless they’re right up on me.
Could be worse.
Leaning over the bar so I don’t have to shout quite as loudly—at least my ears are new, even if they don’t like the music—I say, “I’m looking for Cath.”
The old man raises an eyebrow, glancing at Zane just behind me before putting down the glass he was cleaning. He has an implant next to his eyes, just a little nub of metal, but it looks to be a port of a small holographic screen, not something Amerov would install. Nothing about him says cyborg.
When he doesn’t immediately respond, just squints at every inch of me, I ask, “Does she still own this place?”
Finally, he nods, “Who are you?”
As far as I know, there’s no reason to trick the old woman out here, so I say, “Aaron.”
Nothing like recognition flickers across his face. “What do you want?”
“I just need to talk about some directions to this city. I’m not gonna cause her any harm.”
“What directions? I can help you.”
I give him a good look over. What we’re doing isn’t technically illegal. We’re testing my old DNA file, which is not bad in and of itself, and neither is being an unregistered number. The illegal part is that I have an old Amerov file. And that I have no idea if this guy will tell us to go one place and let someone know we’re heading there to ambush us. He could send us into a trap. Cath could too, but at least I’ve had dealings with her before. And as far as I remember, she knows enough that she probably gets the idea that screwing me over isn’t a fantastic plan.
“I’d like to talk to Cath if you wouldn’t mind. I know her.”
I’m prepared for him to argue, but he only shrugs and says, “It’ll be a few minutes…maybe, maybe you should wait outside.”
Because we’re weird and have already freaked out two customers. “Sure.”
Around the back of the bar is a set of stairs he disappears up. I vaguely remember this place, and I think Cath lives on the upper levels. I met her trying to get information on the best places to work with other bounty hunters, back when I was too stupid to know better. She was nice enough and pointed me in the right direction, and didn’t make a face about my appearance—maybe because I was barely older than a kid at that point and easier to pity—and the one time I came back here, I stopped by this place just to say hello. I don’t trust her and don’t really like her company, but she was helpful to me when I needed it, and hasn’t had anything up her sleeve to this point.
Nudging Zane, I say, “Let’s wait out front. Fewer people, anyway.”
With the humans herded back outside, we hover near the front, wandering near the closest few shops, still able to see the front of the bar. Yvonne is poking around an eatery serving unfamiliar food, paying for something served up in grease paper. Anya clings to her and Zane wanders behind, hand under his coat where I know he keeps a gun as I do. Lalia hovers around me. I poke around in the next shop, selling a little bit of everything pocket-sized one can think of, eyeballing the bar.
After two whole minutes of silence, Lalia asks, “How you doing?”
I glance her way. Even under the mask, she looks tense. Her eyes hold a lot of weight, and she isn’t making the usual amount of intense eye contact. Any delay is probably stressing her out.
“Well enough. You look like you’ve taken my place.”
She squints.
“Like you want to crawl into a hole and bury yourself with dirt.”
I get a snort for the bad joke. She shrugs and stuffs her hands in the pocket of her oversized coat. She picked it up from her parent’s house and it’s odd seeing her in new clothes.
“Actually, I figured you’d be the most stressed of all of us.”
“What can I say, I’m busy enough worrying about one of you getting in trouble.” I stand on my toes to check on the princesses and Zane one shop over. Anya has some sort of dumpling in her mouth. A little nervously, I bounce Bat gently in his pack. “I guess I’m bad at multitasking.”
Picking up some of the tasers on display, small enough to fit in the palm and built like flashlights, I turn one on and then off when the owner glares at me. Yvonne lost hers somewhere along the way and I’ve never had much use for one, but I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to have one. I buy one for myself and one for Yvonne without much discomfort from the ship owner, briefly considering buying a smaller one for Anya before thinking better of it. She’d only end up tasering herself.
“You sure you’re alright?” Lalia asks.
As much as I’m becoming accustomed to their concern, I have a difficult time not rolling my eyes. “I will be if you don’t stress me out asking me if I’m alright so much.”
She grimaces under the mask. “Right, sorry.”
Feeling a little bad for how nervous she obviously is, I nudge her in the arm as we walk out. She leans back against me.
“Here,” I say, handing Yvonne the taser.
She snorts and grabs it, eating the last of whatever food she was brave enough to try in this place. “I want to make a remark about how romantic but honestly this is the exact type of thing you should get me.”
Anya giggles. “I thought guys are supposed to get girls flowers and stuff.”
Alright, this is not how I wanted this interaction to go. “Maybe if your sister wasn’t so psycho I’d get her some flowers.”
“Oooooooooo,” Zane mumbles under his breath. I have to physically restrain myself from punching him in his newly-healed ribs.
Anya cackles and my face turns much too hot for comfort. When is that bartender coming back?
Yvonne just grins at me before shoving her mask back in place, then she coughs. “Great, I can smell my breath in this thing.”
“What did you even eat?” Lalia says, eyeballing the racks of differently cooked meats.
“I dunno. It was good though. Kinda chewy.”
In my backpack, Bat snorts. I’m about to consider tying something myself when I spot the old man stepping onto the street, spotting us, and waving for us to come back inside.
“You all stay back inside the bar,” I say, learning them back. “It’s too much commotion out here, just keep to yourselves and don’t talk to anyone.”
Glancing at Zane, I ask, “Stay here with the girls, will ya?”
He makes a face.
“Look, I have Bat and I can call you on the comm. I’m just asking for directions, I’m not leaving you out of anything.”
“Fine, fine,” he mutters, giving my shoulder a light smack. “I’ll babysit the princesses.”
“Excuse me,” Yvonne elbows him in the arm as we push our way back inside and they head toward the booths. “I’ll have you know I’m plenty capable of tasering people on my own.”
“I remember. Back on Amethyst, you threaten to electrocute my—”
Smirking to myself, I push through the crowd away from them and head up the stairs behind the bartender. Bat’s chin touches my shoulder, but when I reach back he’s keeping his big ears down and out of view.
It’s a relief to get out of the crowded bar and all the smell. I move the respirator down to hang off my neck. I didn’t need it in the first place, and I don’t suspect anyone up here is going to recognize me. There aren’t many lights, and it’s still dark and a bit dingy.
The door at the top of the stairwell slides open, and the old man goes in before me. Keeping my hand off my gun despite my better judgment, I step slowly into the doorway. Paranoid or not, I’ve been surprised too many times these past months by people trying to off me. It isn’t paranoid if people actually are trying to kill me.
It smells much better up here, like spices and the unknown sweetness of vegetables I’ve never come across. A sizzle comes from the kitchen.
Cath comes bustling around the corner of the kitchen into the living room I’ve found myself in, significantly older than I remember and carrying a shotgun that’ll put a hole through me the size of my fist. Still, I don’t put my hand on my gun.
“Be taking your hood off, now?” she says, gesturing with the barrel of the rifle.
Right, forgot I had it on. I push it back slowly, not making sudden movements.
She squints at me, cocks her head, and leans the gun against the couch. “Wow, it really is you. Can’t be believing you’re still alive.”
“Me neither, most days.”
She cracks a smile, nodding to the old man who brought me up. He doesn’t look particularly happy about it, and casts me quite a sour look as he passes, leaving us together. As much as I like the friendly old woman, I don’t tell Bat to come out. The black market parts for me aren’t nearly as interesting as they are for him, and I don’t want to tempt fate.
She gives me another look over that makes me want to crawl into a hole, but the last time she saw me I was still a skinny teenager, so I suppose I can’t fault her. Not that I’m not still skinny…
“You are still like twig,” she says, and I let myself laugh once. “You should learn to eat when chasing bounties. I’m making food. Sit.”
