Chapter 19
Lost In The Mist © 2015 Sinclair Diavante
Chapter 19.
My ship was adrift, as were my thoughts. No course plotted, no future set. I was alone in the galaxy, and for once, no one had control over my choices but me. I roamed the halls and saw various projects that still needed completion. Nostalgia ran thick, they were all things I hadn't seen, by my eyes, for close to a decade. I savored their lack of completion, feeling like if they hadn't been done all this time, why complete them at all?
It was almost impossible to accept that only a month had actually gone by. I answered Yoshi's threatening emails, and funneled a decent chunk of money from Sin's fund to cover the damage my ship had made breaking out of its repair bay.
Surprisingly, no one was killed.
I laughed when I finally saw the video footage. My hero, my rescuer. I needed to thank Nod for the gift, he saved my life. I thought about contacting him via hyperwave. But I didn't.
I thought about contacting Sinclair. But I didn't.
Secondary explosions had cremated the ship that had tried to perform the derelict recovery operation. Mist's ship had remained, though. I spent some time harvesting as much data from it as I could, including recovering Mist's wetware primary storage. I extracted it from his skull with mixed emotions, then I left his body where I felt he would have preferred it to stay. The captain goes with his ship. I destroyed it from a safe distance, shocked by the potential weapon my ship's engines possessed.
I now had a lot of data, from some very proprietary systems, and I had no idea how to put any of it together. Snow was in there, somewhere, but such a project seemed pointless. She wasn't real, I just had to keep reminding myself of that.
I docked at 1Z-Yoshi. We were on friendly terms, now that I had paid the grossly overinflated repair fees. The place smelled cleaner than I last remembered it, all those years ago. Er. One month, remember. The damage hadn't even all been repaired, when The Jefferson drifted in to the docking cradle, I saw some of it still being performed.
A Chtolb with the name that had too many apostrophes approached me. I laughed and shook my head. "No assistance needed." Its tentacles wilted as I walked by, feeling déjà-vu. My ass twitched a couple of times, yikes.
Blending in with the crowd so I could get as close as possible, I went straight to Jimmy's house of pain, without him noticing me. I knocked on his counter and he turned and looked at me.
"Woah. What happened! You're here! Dude!" He was staring at the bald patch of fur around my neck, then the section over my stomach, the long pink scar down my left arm. All his work in my fur, ruined.
"Look, it's only been a month, to you. It's been over eight years, to me. I'll explain, some day. For now, how about you make a lot of credits fixing me up. And please... light me up a joint. I just went through the detox from hell."
Jimmy nodded, he wasted no time. He pulled a spliff from under the counter and touched it to the activation patch on the side of a pack of cigarettes, handing it to me without another word. He closely inspected my fur while I took a couple of quick drags, feeling my frazzled nerves start to unfray.
An idea came to me. A brilliant idea. One that I would probably regret. But I loved it.
"Hey. So. Dude." I grinned. "Like, I want all my fur black. Can you do that?" I handed the joint to Jimmy.
He took it from me and inhaled expertly, dragoning out through his nose while combing his claws through my fur, staring at the follicles closely. "That's the hardest color to do, but I can do it. Temporary or permanent?"
"Wouldn't it look like crap once it started falling out, if it was temporary?" He nodded and handed the joint back to me. I took some more hits. "Permanent it is, then."
"Ok, that's going to be expensive. It'll use up almost all my stock."
I shook my head. "Don't care. Double the price, keep the change."
His eyes went wide at that, he quickly brought out a stool for me to sit on in his modification booth. It was going to take a while.
"Mist was bad news, man. Wasn't the guy I thought he was. I wasn't in my ship when it left. I was on his, he fucking abducted me." He dropped the joint from his mouth, staring at me in awe. When he picked it back up, he stared at it and handed it to me, clearly realizing that I needed it a lot more than he did.
I spent the next few hours explaining everything that happened. He was floored speechless.
"So. You still want a 'site? I've got two on my ship, both for males." I grinned slyly.
"Uhm." He stared down at the calmer ring on my sheath. "Maybe... not... just yet."
I pet him between the ears. "They're more fun when you don't have a choice."
He panted and hid his waist behind the counter. I paid him and left. "I'll be around..."
"Nod! Man, am I glad to see you."
He straightened from what he was working on, looking closely at me."Who are you?"
"It's Keman ! I had my fur recolored." At the mention of my name, he grinned with his hundreds of teeth and stuck his paw out. I shook it warmly.
"Lemme tell 'ya, that was the best 'tempt to avoid Yoshi's bill I ever saw. Hah! The Jefferson treating you well?"
"Nod, she's fantastic. But I really gotta say, thank you for the AI core. It saved my life."
"Which? Er... oh yeh. The Arcanian one? Huh. Well, glad it was useful."
"You have no idea! Man, I gotta run. Got another project I need to work on. But we'll stay in touch, ok?"
"Mmmhmm." He winked at me.
I returned to my ship, and did something that surprised myself. I hacked into Mist's wetware memory module, and gained his authorization codes. I contacted Sinclair, sending him a message:
"I've grown bored with using your toy. He is intact and well, I've only a few details I need to discuss with you, in person. I will meet you on Phaylact, in Trinity, at the Armage Nightclub, 6PM local time, tomorrow. Come alone. If my agents spot any of your forces in the area, I will kill Keman and our meeting becomes pointless. Follow my instructions, and I swear you will leave Phaylact with him." It was perfectly coded with Mist's ID.
We made good time to Phaylact. The Al had made several modifications to my ship, including a cloaking field that I hadn't yet puzzled out the workings of. Arcanians had disappeared from space a thousand years ago, after living peacefully for over a million years. I had no idea how old the AI was, and neither did it. It had endlessly looped itself while disconnected from everything in order to preserve its code and sanity. All its memory that applied to time passing was intentionally corrupted.
I checked my 'blaster in the leather holster I wore, happy to have my sidearm back in its rightful location. I took all my piercings out, but the 'site calmer ring had to stay.
I cruised the streets of Trinity like I owned the place, staring at people until they looked away. I paused outside and stared at the entrance to the Armage.
It all started here, didn't it. I walked in and took a seat close to the back, one with a good view and nothing behind me, luxuriating in the hidden depths my new black fur was at home in. The first time I had seen myself in a mirror, I nearly jumped.
The nightclub was alive, with a dance floor spanning my right, bodies in motion, glow sticks and neon flexi-tubes spinning around. On my left were tables, like the one I sat at. I waved down a waitress, a slender female greyhound Rhenthar. She smiled at me and asked what I'd like to drink.
"Beer, something red. I'm in no hurry, so don't worry about earning your fifty credit tip." I squirted my charge authorization at the transponder she wore on her hip, and her smile became genuine. She brought my drink back in just seconds, and I lapped at it.
When Sinclair walked into the club, my vision narrowed to a tunnel, and all I could see was him. My heart doubled its rate instantly, and I watched him scan over the crowd with growing anxiety. His gaze passed right over me, and he took an empty table facing away from me, towards the entrance. I sighed in relief, he didn't spot me.
I watched him for an hour, making certain I really wanted to do what I was about to do. I thought of all the ways it might go wrong, and weighed them against what I wanted. When I came to a conclusion, I fired up Mist's wetware ID and 'cast Sin a message: "Ship propulsion problems. Delayed 24 hours. Nothing has changed."
A few moments later, I saw Sin's head jerk as he swore to himself. He got up to leave, signaling to the bartender with a claw across his throat: cash him out. I took that as my cue and got up myself, to follow him out.
I shot him in the leg with a microdart, and he didn't even seem to notice. The launcher looked like a credit chit, a flimsy piece of plastic. He paused and held the door open for me, I nodded his way as I walked past, hoping my freshly dyed fur didn't offer too much of my scent. I kept walking towards the street, and it took all my effort not to swivel my ears backwards to listen for him. I turned sideways and saw him collapsing to the sidewalk.
I quickly turned around and ran back to him, catching him before he fell.
"Let's get a cab for you, buddy." I bit my tongue so I wouldn't laugh. I helped his floppy arm over my shoulder and walked him toward the curb, where a cab I had ordered arrived, right on time. It was a private limo, all black and tinted. Perfect.
Sin's eyes were glassy, I had dosed him with something very short acting, very powerful. He mumbled a few things, and I worried he might still be able to call in the cavalry. When I had tested it on myself, though, I found that I was completely unable to navigate through my wetware. The effects only lasted about five minutes.
I helped him into the limo, fuck, he was heavy. I pulled his back up against my chest as I sat down. I told the driver to just drive, and not to worry about what we were doing. He nodded and raised the privacy screen. I thumbed the door stud and it swished shut. We were in motion, and I didn't have much time.
My Mark 6 collar was in the area of my holster reserved for extra charge cells, I fished it out and snapped it shut around Sin's neck. It chimed twice and shrank down until it was snug. My wetware registered it successfully. He was starting to struggle, he reached up and pulled on it weakly.
I licked the side of his big muzzle, and reached down to rub his stomach with my blunt claws. I massaged his ears while his strength slowly recovered. I whispered into them: "Now you're all mine."
His eyes went wide and he shot a look of terror at me. His nose flared, and then he relaxed, having taken in my scent. I felt him press back against me, he shut his eyes and I took his paw into my own and squeezed. He squeezed back.