Maurice’s
voice came out in a grumble. “I told you
already, you look fine. Besides, it’s
not like you’re going there for a date.
Or are you?”
Mary
sighed and shook her head. “Just scan me
and show, please.”
Maurice
was silent as she held the unit at arms’ length for a moment. She swapped hands, held it still again, and
then looked at the screen. She saw an image
of herself on the screen, altered to show her with both of her hands down. She was dressed in a one piece suit of
stretchy grey knit cloth that included feet and left just her face and hands
bare. Her skin was pale and smooth, her
hair dark and curled to the point of looking a bit tangled. Her small body was rounded and soft in all
directions, from her snub nose to her belly.
Non-threatening, vulnerable, and
unassuming. Most of the humans who pass
me won’t remember me, and most of the non-humans will think I look like every
other human. Perfect. I hope.
Mary
took a deep breath and strode out of her unit, following the directions Maurice
had obtained from the station data net to the room that the bartender had
indicated. She shared a lift with a pair
of canoodling Hrotata and had to re-route when she noticed that one of the corridors
that she had planned on taking was occupied by a bunch of Security officers
crowded around what looked like a busted-open door.
She
finally found the place, a grey doorway in a corridor lined with many nearly
identical doorways, and rang the bell.
She waited for a couple of minutes, shifting her weight back and forth
and trying not to look around nervously and rang the bell again. She checked the numbers on the door and the
surrounding chambers at least a dozen times and began to grow concerned.
“Looking
for someone?”
Mary
let out an undignified yelp and spun around.
There was the bartender, wearing tight black shorts on his knobby legs,
a white undershirt, and a shit-eating grin.
The door behind him was open.
<<Bartender:
What, did you expect me to give you my
actual room number? Please. Act casual, and surprised to see me
here. You came up here looking for
Gundar Peck, the guy in the cube across from me.>>
Mary
breathed deeply several times and swept her hair out of her eyes. “Um, I’m sorry. Do you know Gundar? I was coming up to visit him.”
The
bartender snorted and shook his head. He
leaned against the open door frame, his lanky body leaving ample space for her
to see the rather messy cubicle behind him.
“Gundar? He’s probably on
duty. Or drinking. I almost never see him around here.”
<<Mary:
Ooookay, so what now?>>
“Could
you give him a message for me?” She asked.
<<Bartender:
Well, I’m going to invite you in, and you’re
going to seem interested. >>
She didn’t need the psychic connection to feel his leer. Mary shuddered internally.
“I
don’t know, like I said, I don’t even really know the guy. Doesn’t mean you have to leave, though. If you’re looking for someone to hang out
with, maybe have some fun, well, I’m right here.” The leer became visible at this point. Mary swallowed.
“I
don’t know – I was looking for Gundar.”
Mary sent a wave of petulant annoyance towards the bartender, the
psychic equivalent of sticking her tongue out.
“Are you sure you don’t know when he’ll be back?”
The
bartender’s eyes darkened and his brow furrowed. His lip drew up in a sneer. “No,” he said in a nasally, mocking tone “I
don’t know when he’ll be back. Why, is
he your boyfriend or something?”
<<Bartender:
Don’t mess with me. Play along or run along.>>
Mary
winced. “No, I uh… just wanted to talk
to him. Say, are you doing
anything?” She asked, knowing that it
sounded lame.
He
grinned again, and her stomach roiled. I do not want to go into that room.
“No, I just got off of work. Say,
didn’t I see you down at the bar today?”
Mary
forced a laugh. “Oh, I thought you
looked familiar! Yeah, you served me the
Triple Tropical Tornado!”
The
bartender sneered again, or smiled – it was hard to tell the difference with
him. “Something like that. Why don’t you come inside? We can talk in here, I don’t want to bother
the neighbors.”
“Yeah,
that sounds like a great idea!” No one
hearing her would think that she was being sincere, but she was at the end of
her rope with this creep. She walked in,
painfully aware of him looming over her and leering down at her as she passed
into his sordid chamber. The bed was
out, and the sheets were half off and yellowed.
Everything looked unwashed, from the food-stained table to the greasy
chair-arms to the floor scattered with wrappers and unevenly placed plastic
bottles. She looked around, back to a
wall, trying to find a place to sit that wouldn’t make her feel as though she
was going to leave with some kind of unpleasant contagion.
The
bartender (who had been staring at her ass as she walked in, she could tell)
turned all the way around and stepped in, as the door swung shut. He crossed the room, carefully picking his
way past the trash on the floor with his long strides, and sat on the head of
the bed, patting the mattress beside him.
“Come on, it’s the most comfortable seat here.”
Mary
shook her head. <<Not a chance, buddy. This is as far as I come. If that means I have to leave, then I’ll be
right on my way.>>
He
raised an eyebrow. <<What makes you think you can just leave?>>
Mary
snorted. <<Because you don’t want to get any more attention from Sec than I do,
and if you don’t let me leave you know they’ll come looking.>>
He gave
a supercilious smile. <<Unless I’m paying them. Get over here and sit down.>>
Mary
swallowed and carefully moved around the piles of bottles and chose a spot a
good meter away from the bartender and sat crosslegged on the bed facing
him. She saw his eyes travel down to the
juncture of her legs. Does this pig have no shame at all?
<<Bartender:
Better. Nice.
So. You’ve got a nice little
talent on you. You also don’t want to be
noticed. We can help with that.>>
<<Mary: Who is
‘we’?>>
The
bartender shook his head. <<Not so fast, little girl. We need to know that we can trust you. We need to know that you’re not going to go
running to the Strainers ‘cause you got scared.
We need you to do something for us.>>
Mary
swallowed and looked away from him.
<<Like what?>>
The
bartender leaned forward. She could
smell his days’ old sweat. How was it
that he hadn’t been written up for hygiene yet?
<<<Bartender: First, hand me your Brin.>>
“What?!” She sat up straight. “The hell I will!”
He
raised his eyebrow again.
<<Bartender: If you want out of this room alive, you’ll
hand me your Brin. Now.>>
She
reached into the pocket of her suit and pulled out her Brin, the unit that held
Maurice, her AI and passed it over to him wordlessly. He grinned and took it and stood up on the
bed, treating her to an unpleasant view until she looked up, following his
motions. He opened a drawer in the wall,
fiddled with something that she couldn’t see from the angle that she was at,
put her Brin in, and closed it.
He sat
back down, markedly closer to her. He
leaned forward again, reached out, and grabbed a lock of her tangled hair and
tugged on it, drawing her closer to him.
He made a show of sniffing her hair and sighing appreciatively before
tugging out several strands of it at the root.
Without speaking, he reached up and stowed them in another compartment.
<<Bartender: We have
everything that we need now to make sure that you won’t fuck us. Unless, of course, you want to.>> He gestured down at his body, and she turned
away, wondering just how disgusted she would have to be before she decided to
end this.
<<Mary: You
have my AI and my genetic material. What
else do you want?>>
He set
his elbows on his knees and rested his chin on them, his eyes still wandering
over her body. <<Bartender: Pay
very close attention. There’s a Strainer
who works in Docking Bay 7. He’s a
Moldy, an Awakener. He goes by the name
Rell. We need him gone, without him
knowing who did it or why. Fortunately,
he’s a creature of habit, and we know his patterns. I will give you a weapon, and I want you to
take care of him.>>
<<Mary: You
want me to kill a cop? Seriously? What do you have to offer that’s even close
to worth the kind of trouble I could get in for that?>>
The
bartender stuck his tongue out a bit.
<<Bartender: Anonymity.
Protection. Training, advanced
training from people who aren’t beholden to the Collective or its
regulations. Also, one of these.>>
He
turned his right hand so that she could see the ring again, the dead-black
oblong against faded silver. She was
quiet for a long moment, and then nodded slowly.
<<Mary: All
right. Where’s the gun?>>
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