“Zekog-de-hurpst, Dwi-oohlas Ujay-bakwat,” said Hestapsa-dirg, Ya-sansanank-hatmoi Kaleop-toray.
“I see why you told me to call you Sam,” said The Human.
Sam smirked, and, as always, the human looked at him as if he were a wall.
It frustrated him. The Harbinger could see him, and human was her base species, so why did this one act like he was speaking with the air when Sam conversed with him?
His fellow maman kept calling his name. He ignored the girl. Angry, she waded into the dance club and squeezed her way to him.
“Who’s this looker?” Asked The Human.
She stood still, glaring down at him in the corner of his vision. She was the prettiest girl he had ever seen… of his own species.
“C’mon man,” the human said, “aren’t you gonna introduce me?”
Sam sipped his drink. The bar tender had turned her nose up when he ordered a cocktail of Blue Curacao and Ponfan Schnaps. Her loss. The bitterness of the ponfan root clashed with the citrus tang of the curacao, leaving the drink quiet, with just the essence of the conflict for his tastebuds to ponder over. His thoughts then wandered to the reports of what had happened to those who failed to evacuate. Few sentient carnivores cared to dine on Sam’s kind for the rank flavor of their flesh. There were a few carrion eating kindreds that made their way to Matamat to haunt their city streets, but even they sometimes couldn’t finish their meals. But the kzin had no sense of taste. They ate only to sate hunger, so those who did not evacuate were likely devoured. A shameful way to go.
“Wow,” The Human was saying, “you’re even less talkative than Sam.”
Sam kept his eyes fixed on his drink, while she kept her eyes fixed on him and The Human kept his eyes fixed on her. Had The Human not been there to annoy her, she likely would have stayed until Sam aknowledged her, or even caused a scen. But his persistence worked in Sam’s favour, and Hestapsa-dirg, Ya-sansanank-hatmoi Kaleop-toray left.
“Man,” The Human said as he mounted his barstool, “she was giving you the stinkiest stink eye I’ve ever seen. What did you kill her husband or sumtin’?”
“Her mother,” Sam replied. He swirled his drink, watching the red pulp of the ponfan fruit dance against the current he created.
The Human nodded. “That’ll do it. Hey, Bandit.” He flagged down the bartender.
“It’s Bandok,” she said.
“Can I get another pilsner?”
Sam watched, trying to look aloof while she filled and handed The Human his glass. But her smirk won out. He wrapped his hands around the glass and held hers in place.
“Thanks, Bangkok,” he said before letting her go. He then turned so he partly faced the dancefloor, and partly faced Sam. “We have history.”
“I eat,” Sam replied.
“Most of us do.”
Sam grumbled as he took his translator out of his pocket.
“What you doin’ with that piece of junk?” The Human asked. “Eno translates everything already.”
Sam looked at him. “Endo?”
“Eno. Man, turn that thing off. Didn’t your people get the scoop on this place when ya’all moved in?”
“I am a piranha.”
The Human laughed. “Well, that explains why you’re so hungry.”
“Show me your wenis,” said Sam, only he meant to ask The Human to show him how Eno’s translating worked.
The Human laughed again, then took the translator from him. He fumbled with the controls, then set it back down.
“Now, say sumtn’.”
“What is Eno?” Sam breathed a heavy sigh of relief.
“Eno’s a computer. I don’t know which rumors to listen to, but whether she’s a living computer, or some ancient exo relic, or whatever she is, she runs this whole tub.”
“And how does her translation technology function? Where are the speakers?”
“Brother, this ship does all kinds of things that nobody understands. Man, didn’t you take the tour? They woulda told ya all about it. Oh, right. You’re a piranha. Well, killin’ pretty girls’ mommies will do that.” He made up for all the time he spent talking with a long pull on his glass.
Sam nodded toward The Human’s drink. “Your drink has a pleasing hue. Is it alcoholic?”
The Human grinned. “I am glad we sorted out your translator problems. I was beginning to regret our business arrangement. And this here is a pilsner. It's a type of beer. It’s got a bit of alcohol in it, but not as much as that concoction you’re sportin’. So, while we’re watin’ on Mr. Blanc, why don’t you tell me about yourself. What makes you a piranha, for instance.”
Sam sipped his ‘concoction’. “My occupation.”
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“Uh huh. Whaddaya do?”
“I’m a legal specialist.”
The Human made an exaggerated nod. “Mommy killin’ lawyers, huh? No wonder the kzinti attacked your world.”
“I was a law man. But a rare kind. We handled severly dangerous criminals with skill sets that our general law enforcement officers could not hope to contend with. As our targets were often had elite underworld connections, we operated outside of the standard legal system. I was judge, jury and executioner.”
Sam thought back to his meeting with the Harbinger, and dearly longed for a chance to speak with her again under Eno’s linguistic guidance.
The Human was watching him with a much different look than before.
“I see it. I guess I saw it before, too, but it’s kinda hard to take a guy seriously when he’s askin’ for a look at your wenis.”
“So when are we meeting this man who wants to see me?”
“He’ll be here. You got some place to be?”
Sam shook his head.
“Well, why don’t we pass the time? Tell me that girl’s story. What did her mommy do that was so severe?”
“She kidnapped and tortured children.”
The Human frowned. “Then why’s her daughter mad at you?”
“She’s not.” Sam waved to the bartender and ordered a pilsner. It tasted bitter and refreshing. “This is good.”
“Best pils in this quarter.”
Sam looked to the door out of the club. The relentless pulse of the music was beginning to wear itself out to him. He’d explored nonstop since his arrival, even in restricted areas, and he’d barely seen the tip of a finger on this giant.
“This vessel could have entire cities inside it,” he said.
“Yeah,” said The Human, “she’s big. So, tell me the story about you and the daughter. You can’t tell me she ain’t angry with you. I know that look, no matter what the species.”
Sam sipped his beer. He liked the flavor, but at the time he was wanting more of an effect. He finished it, then ordered another curacao and schnapps cocktail.
“She’s in love with me.”
The Human nodded dramatically, raising his eyebrows as his head tilted back.
Sam sighed. “I saw to it she was cared for. Anonymously. Somehow she found out. At first she was grateful. She began to idolize me later. In time she became obsessed.”
“She found you. That’s impressive.”
Sam took a sip of his cocktail.
“She a cutie by your standards?”
Same swirled the pulp. “Gorgeous.”
The Human nodded. “Say, looks like your man is here.”
“I’ve known it was you for a while now.”
The Human smiled, then stood. “The name’s Holloway. Whaddaya say we go for a walk?”
Same sipped his drink. “Where to?”
“Let’s call it a tour.”
Sam finished his drink, paid, then followed The Human. They left the club and walked down the entire length of the boulevard and took a taxi to a residential district. The car sped along the rail made for rapid transit, hovering just inches above on its low power repulsors.
“Does this town have a name?” Sam asked.
The living quarters were made to look like houses, with plants and signs and mats outside their doors. Some had footwear stored outside, others displayed artwork. The car was climbing a switchback rail that took them up the levels of cramped apartments, and Sam was reminded of the towering slums on his homeworld. Some were crime ridden, but others pulsed with vibrant life.
“New Cantha,” said The Human.
Sam sat quietly, The Human did not. He spouted a flurry of useless facts, but Sam learned a great deal as he watched the apartments passing to and fro and down below him. Windows with children’s paintings, clotheslines, unlicensed business in the halls and plazas outside, all the signs of a community that pooled its resources so their simple lives could transcend the limits of their means.
Greater than the sum of their parts, Sam thought.
The taxi parked in a garage above New Cantha, and the boarded a train filled with human males in dark blue uniforms. The train dropped them off in an industrial district. They walked past half a dozen large buildings, then turned down an alley that ended in an empty space. There was a storage silo knocked over on its side, which The Human led Sam behind. Hidden from view, The Human opened a hatch on the side and vanished into the silo. Sam followed. The silo was completely hollow, covering a trap door in the floor. Sam pulled a flap off a hidden console and punched in an access code. Sam watched carefully, memorizing the pattern by the disruption of shadow on the inner wall by The Human’s hand. The trap door opened over a small platform that they rode downward, ending in a large, sparsely furnished space. The Human Went to a refrigeration container and took out two glass bottles. He opened them and gave one to Sam.
“Now this, is the best pils on all of Albion.”
Sam’s eyes were drawn to some equipment in the far corner of the room.
“That’s right,” The Human said. “I make it myself.”
“It’s stronger,” Sam said after a few thirsty gulps.
The Human nodded. “Well, now that we have some privacy, let’s just stick to business. I work for profit, and I don’t much care what I’m asked to do. But I don’t want this ship to blow up, so when the powers that be need something done quietly, they come to me. And others like me, of course. But I have my regulars, and one of my favorites is interested in you.”
“Because I’m a piranha?”
The Human smirked. “That’s part of it. You’ve been scopin’ Albion out, pokin’ into places most people can’t break into. Those kinds of skills make you useful.”
He handed him a carbon fiber briefcase. “Look this over and think about it. If you’re interested, use the device inside the case to contact me.”
Sam finished his beer then took the long trip back to his apartment. After converting his mamani currency to the universal tender used in Albion, he bought himself a house in a rather swanky suburb near a street called ‘Blue Seven’. Blue Seven was lined with expensive restaurants, gaming halls, sporting arenas and clubs like the one he met The Human in, only much more upscale. He took a taxi to the fringes of his neighborhood and walked the rest of the way, watching other cars drive by along the two-way rail that split the neighborhood’s wide walkways down the middle. The cars stopped, and he crossed the foot bridge over the rail at the crossing signal. Inside his home he took a scalding hot water bath, then put on a soft robe, sprawled on his sofa and turned on his oversized viewer.
After watching a moderately interesting crime drama, he decided to open the case. There was a data crystal, a comm link, and a drawing of the bell he gave to the Harbinger he met before leaving his home. He activated the comm link.
“Well,” said The Human, “that was quick.”