Bis rose, p.21
Bis Rose, page 21
“Like I said. Need to know.” Inwardly, Bis smiled. “You’ll have to take it up with him.”
“Yes. Fine, yes. You can be sure of that. But don’t think you’re off the hook—”
“I’m taking some time off—on the director’s orders. I’ve just sent in my request. I’ll inform HR right after this call. This last case has really done me in. The time differential’s got it in for me. I’ve submitted my reports as best as I can, given the circumstances. There’s nothing more I can do until more solid evidence of Jun Hiro’s death is obtained.”
Qasim mmm’d, a knit to his brow, as he read the form Bis had sent. “And you’re requesting leave to go back to Azura, rather than R and R at home?” His nose curled, no doubt imagining the cesspool of Azura. He scanned the written request from top to bottom again, comically, like a chicken pecking the dirt for grubs. “Oh. Mmm. I see. To get your ship back?”
“Yes. And my office is basically my ship. As my report stated, I’m on a borrowed one which I should really return, unless GAJA would prefer to acquire it. It’s a sleek ship, sir—a real asset for Retrieval. Has the looks of a military-grade corsair, and it’s fast. Another reason the time zones are doing me in. I had no chance to acclimate, and wherever I went, I hit the ground running.” She was laying it on thick. “But it’s the only reason I borrowed it, so I could get to Ao in quick time.”
“I see, but, no-no.” Qasim shook his head. “Our budget is shot. I can’t authorise the purchase of a ship—even at cost price, and especially one as sophisticated as a corsair. All right. Fine-fine. Return the ship, be sure to upload a copy of the return agreement for our files, and get back here. You have one week.”
“Umm, sir. One week? It’ll take at least that to get there. Longer for the return, since I’ll be on the Pinkerton. She’s not as fast as she used to be. And the recommended leave is eighteen days.” Bis actually didn’t care about the short deadline. She only cared about proving to the Belt how it was Akari, not Jun, who had gone on a murdering rampage. Plus, if it was Akari’s intent, she couldn’t let the young girl harm Colleton or anyone else. Akari had to be stopped.
“One week, Agent Rose. That’s an order, and all the time we can give you. I don’t care how you and your official GAJA ship get back, but you will. Shouldn’t have left it in that dump in the first place. Shit’s hitting every single spinning fan right now. You saw the director’s memo—it’s all hands on deck. Retrieval agents are needed left and right to collect those straggling members of the syndicates and escapees from Pluto. Soon as you’re back, report straight to duty—we’re short staffed because of this whole mess. Understood? When this is all done, you can get the additional days owed. So, in the meantime, get plenty of sleep aboard your ship. Plenty. I want REM cycles logged and uploaded for the duration so HR don’t get all bunched in a knot.”
“Yes, sir.” Bis terminated the call, and groaned. “What a rasshole.”
Next, she sent a message to Agent Shale, with an update of her status and plans. Bis hadn’t heard a peep from her or the director, so either they were extremely busy, or she was already forgotten—as most retrieval agents were unless they were needed. Veteran agent or not, she was still in Retrieval and irrelevant. No matter.
“We’ve no time to get more supplies. But the ship is recharged and ready to scramble.” Bis hauled Jun up from the deck. “Jun. Listen to me. The risk of having you aboard is too great. We get caught—I get caught—we’re going down, and I’ve a lot of explaining to do. A lot. Our first goal is to prove your innocence, understood? So do exactly as I say and be invisible. Okay?”
“Yes.” Jun squared his shoulders and straightened despite sniffing loudly. His eyes were red and puffy, his face mottled. Pink splotches visible even through the Thomas guise. “I need this.” His voice creaked, sounding weak and feeble. “I need to understand it. There’s no other explanation, but I’m certain this is all Akari’s doing. The evidence is all there, right? Vague, but there. I want to know why. I deserve that.”
This was a bad idea, whichever way one looked at it. But if Jun was with her, then she could keep an eye on him. “All right then.” Bis headed to the cockpit. “Strap in. Soon as we clear Triton, get rid of that pompous face.”
24
Three days. She’d pushed it, hard. And even though she’d had time to sleep and log it in as ordered, she couldn’t shuck the edginess. Colleton was going to have a hissy fit when he got the Obeah Woman back. Straining the engines like she had, urging the speeds to max out, had elicited a rather disturbing groan from the ship. It had also given her mild dizziness, accompanied by a low-grade headache, and a tingly, lethargic sensation in her limbs associated with the strong G-forces. Jun claimed his eyeballs were about to burst into his brain, and that his insides hurt. Neither would’ve stroked out; the ship was designed to counter the pressure and effects, and it also wasn’t capable of exceeding a certain speed. But prolonged hyperspeed wasn’t recommended either. Things might start to go kaboom!
Already, four of the six energy cells in storage were spent. To push it any longer, the rest would be used up and they’d be dead in space, hoping for a tow from the nearest passing ship.
But the Obeah Woman proved to be a trusty vessel, determined to return home.
As they approached Azura, the misshapen, shabby, overcrowded station greeted them like a leery smile. She could almost smell it and, like Qasim, curled one side of her nose. On cue, Bis’ relay and the onboard comms lit up with chatter and messages.
She checked her relay first. There were three from Elodie. The first asking “WTF”; the second, “WTF U drunk?”; and then the last one, no doubt with Colleton’s reply: “Dinner at 6.” He would’ve understood her cryptic old-Barbadian. Hopefully he grasped the meaning too. After all, coded messages were his thing. Berry don’t drop too far from de tree. De sea ain’t got no back door. Or, to put it bluntly, a child inherits the parents’ traits. And the second, to be warned and wary. Bis only remembered a few old sayings, and how her parents and grandparents would repeat them. Especially the last one. It was something she thought about when travelling through space, to be wary of the many dangers that lurked.
The onboard comms chattered with greetings and instructions on berthing the ship, forwarding the relevant immigration files, docking and recharging fees, all spliced and interrupted with the numerous advertisements about the myriad duty-free items and options available. Bis complied, also sending Jun’s fake documents across. For this, he chose another persona—the ethnically mixed, slick playboy and Nerolian native, Eglinton Thorsteinson. A pompous name to match the pompous persona, and unrecognisable even in his black jumpsuit, with slicked back brown hair with highlights, and slightly mixed Asian features. According to his fake ID and biometrics, he was a regular on the Azuran gambling scene, and welcomed back warmly. As opposed to Bis, who had to fill out an additional declaration form regarding her ship and the reasons it had left Azuran space in the first place. By the end of it all, she was close to screaming.
Given the all-clear at last, she docked the Obeah Woman at the same berth she’d taken it from. Colleton seemed to have a slew of private berths. At least she was away from the grungy, overcrowded, offensive-smelling main docking port. Foot traffic in the Zone D docks was lighter, and the general appearance not as shabby. Customs and Immigration weren’t as beady-eyed, and allowed Bis and Jun to waltz through without issue. They also conveniently forgot to govern her weapons. Interesting.
Once outside, the full assault of the Azuran atmosphere punched Bis’ senses. Ah. There it was. The glorious smell of urban life, tenfold. She snorted and tried to ignore a fresh waft of what could only be human excrement.
Jun, with his posh Eglinton guise, pressed the back of his hand under his nose. “Let’s acquire a private transport,” he uttered with a pontifical timbre. “It’ll be faster. And less offensive.”
Bis side-eyed him. Method to the bone! “Sure. But you’re paying.”
“My funds are tied, if you recall. I’m at the mercy of charity.”
She groaned. Seventy-five GDs for a private taxi rather than ten for the ferry. And she wasn’t even on an assignment with a working credit account. Her savings were dwindling by the minute, what with forking out for the docking and energy recharge fees—the latter being the least she could do to repay Colleton for loaning her the vessel. Side-stepping the general chaotic hubbub of travellers jostling the lines for the ferry or pickups, they made their way to the quieter private taxi and chauffeur annex. Bis flagged the nearest automated black vehicle, which zoomed from its waiting zone and screeched to a halt in front them. Doors opened and they stepped in.
Giving it the address, Bis slumped back. Exhaustion punched through her, and the cool air jetting out from the ducts overhead made her sigh. She loved her job, loved the fact she could flit about space in peace and quiet, but it was good to stop for a bit and just be on a station. The taxi wafted some lavender-like scent into the cabin, masking the outside stink. It revved and its thrusters engaged, pushing up into the air traffic lanes.
“We should’ve gotten separate rides,” Bis whispered so the automated vehicle couldn’t hear.
“It’s cool. Azura’s packed with people minding their own business.”
“Still. No point drawing a bullseye on us. It’s bad enough we arrived in the same ship. I’m known here, remember? And you tagging along…”
“It’s cool. They know me too. I’m a big tipper, and that always helps people’s memory, or lack thereof. We’ll have no trouble from the locals. But, I swear,” Jun muttered, “Azura gets stinker by the minute. How do people manage this?”
“They acclimate.” Bis shrugged. “How many times have you been here? Other than the obvious.”
“Many. So many times. Eglinton is how I keep sane. You know what I mean?”
Bis nodded, studying the young man again. Poor kid. Having to create entirely new personas to cope with being Jun Hiro. Couldn’t be easy.
They skirted around the air traffic. Sometimes their taxi honked, braked or dipped lower to avoid congestion. Otherwise, they weaved through the over-stacked buildings and traffic lanes as swiftly as possible. Private meant more money, faster service.
“You think Colly would go through with turning me in?” Underneath the Eglinton persona, Jun’s timid voice whispered even lower.
“What?”
“Our contract.”
“Ah.” Bis shook her head as the taxi nudged upwards another level to avoid congestion. Of all the things for Jun to worry about, that’s what troubled him the most? “No.” Contract or no, they were still family. And, knowing Colleton, family came first. Especially after he’d insisted Jun was innocent. If anything, Jun would find a safe harbour with Colleton, providing Akari hadn’t gone there first.
Bis leaned towards the controls. “Can this go faster?”
“That will be an additional ten Galactic dollars,” the automated voice replied.
*
Jun surprised her by entering the Dikephobia Tavern first, signing to her to wait five minutes before following. For someone who was a regular, he was playing it safe by not being seen in the company of a GAJA agent. He strutted away, pompous and self-assured like a spoiled cat.
Elodie stood by the door, the surly ruddiness of her face frozen in place. Bis gave her nod. “Elodie.”
“Dinner was at six. Or didn’t you know?” Elodie snorted. “’Smatter? Can’t read?”
“Time differences suck. My relay didn’t auto-pair fast enough. Signal’s slow here on Azura.”
“An hour late? You know, people worry when that sort of thing happens.” A scowl twisted Elodie’s face. “Especially when some people leave weird-ass messages like that.”
“Sorry. Didn’t think you cared.” Bis shrugged and pushed her way inside, ignoring Elodie’s “Hey, wait!” yell.
As she entered, some patrons turned to stare. She winked at them with a smile. Her badge wasn’t visible, but anyone with a criminal mind could see she was GAJA. Most turned away, hunching as if not wanting to be seen.
She made her way to the back of the tavern, and since the staff didn’t try to stop her, reasoned Colleton must’ve given them the heads-up. Taking the five short steps down to the narrow, sunken corridor, she came to his office. The door was open, and she walked in to find Colleton and Eglinton locked in an embrace. Someone was sobbing. By the sounds of it, Jun.
“Ah-hem.” Bis waited by the doorway, not sure whether to avert her eyes and give them more time. Instead, she stared at a point between the chandelier above, and their heads.
They parted, a little reluctantly. Head down, Jun sniffed as Colleton cupped his face with both hands. “Agent Rose,” Colleton took a breath, a weepy shake to his voice. “My high-brown sister. How you?”
“Colleton,” Bis replied, taking a step inside. “Would love to catch up, but we have some urgent news. We couldn’t over the networks, if you know what I mean.”
“Yes.” Colleton straightened, pushing Jun at arm’s length. “Okay, brother. Sit. Take a moment. Have some port, it’ll help. You’re safe now, you’re here, and that’s all that matters. Listen to your big brother, Colly. I’m here for you. You don’t have to worry.” He towed Jun to an armchair and sat him down. “Door, close!” he instructed, and, behind a startled Bis, the office door slammed shut.
Bis stepped farther into the office, glancing from the door to Colleton. “A little warning next time? That nearly took my ass off.”
“Whaaaat?” The foppish Colleton returned. “My instructions were warning enough. Now, you too. Sit-sit.” From the desk drawer, Colleton pulled out the familiar red bottle, then three small glasses.
“Umm, no.” Bis shook her head. “I’ll stick with coffee.”
Colleton narrowed an eye at her and steupsed. “Trust me. This helps. One drink to settle yourself. Because I have a sneaky suspicion the news you’re about to drop is just as bad as what I have.”
“Oh, shit.”
Bis sat in the other armchair as Colleton generously poured out the Mercurian port, filling the small glasses to the brim. He pushed one to Bis, the other to Jun—who still sat, hunched and subdued.
“You go first.” Bis took the glass and gently leaned in to slurp its contents. The bracing sting of syrupy alcohol bit her nose. She swallowed, wanting the honey-flavoured port to glide down her throat, but not relishing the after effects and the stinking headache it usually brought.
Colleton dropped down onto his plush office chair, picked up his glass, knocked it back in one, then poured himself another. “Some elderly woman was asking some extremely pushy, pointed questions. I immediately thought Kaminari, but my sources say she wasn’t Asian. She was ancient, in fact. I sent out some people to follow. They haven’t checked in or returned.” He took a small sip this time. “I trust these, um, co-workers. They’ve been with me for a very long time. They always check in, even if they can’t return. Neither has happened. It’s been two days now.”
The pit of Bis’ stomach churned. “This old lady, you know what she looked like?”
“Ancient, I said. That’s what my spies said. Wild, curly grey hair. Foreign-looking. Hmm. Latina, they said.” Colleton put a lacquered finger to his chin and tapped. “Ancient, but they said she didn’t act that way.” He shrugged. “Normally, that wouldn’t have pinged my radar, so to speak. But she mentioned something about Daimyo Hiro, and where he and his family used to live, because she knew them a long, long time ago. I’m sorry…” He fanned himself with his hand. “But that is just too close for comfort. Nobody gets to ask those questions here and not get noticed.”
Bis glanced at Jun. He hadn’t picked up his drink. Instead, he was staring at it. “Jun, take your face off. It’s fine here.”
Without looking at her, Jun brought up his relay and tapped a few commands. Like before, his face shimmied, and the coiffed image of Eglinton Thorsteinson vanished, leaving a sheer mesh. He pulled off the mask and carefully folded it.
“Jun-Jun, darling.” Colleton smiled. “My word, boy. You look starved and tired. We’ll get you fed in a minute. But drink first.”
Jun did, in fact, look drawn and haggard. Dark circles smudged under his eyes, and he had a slightly concaved posture. He cleared his throat. “We think it might be Akari.” He continued to stare at his drink.
“I’m sorry, darling? Could you repeat that?” Colleton leaned closer and cupped his ear, his manner like a fussy but caring matron. Love radiated from him as he looked at Jun, and he seemed to be resisting the urge to reach out and smother him in another embrace.
Between Bis and Jun, they explained to Colleton everything they knew. Colleton went from clutching his chest, head and face to staring off at the old nautical maps on the wall.
“That’s what you meant. Your message.” He clutched his head again and leaned over the table. “I thought you meant Jun. I mean, who else could you’ve been talking about? But I couldn’t understand why you’d warn me about him. He’s Jun—harmless. And the last time we spoke, he was supposed to be dead. I was so confused.”
“Yeah, sorry.” Bis took a proper sip of her potent drink. She blew out a breath and coughed. “I didn’t want to broadcast it over the networks while still docked at the GAJA terminal. I figured you’d get the drift and the meaning, and know it was legit from me.”
“Of course.” Colleton nodded, then slowly shook his head. “Akari? Really?” His eyes drifted back to the wall. “She wasn’t an unhappy child—last we saw of her. She was chatty, a little vocal and emotional, but not like what you just said. I just can’t picture her…turning like that. There must be some kind of mistake. Maybe it’s her friend, this Makenna girl, who’s behind it all.”
“We thought so, but she doesn’t fit the pattern.”
Colleton’s eyes widened and scoffed. “Patterns are meant to be broken, Bis, dear.” He pointed to himself.
