October 27, 2361 AIA

P67

Jane took the tiny pink sword out of her drink and pulled the cherry off the blade with her teeth. It was the kind of sticky sweet that never failed to remind her of cough syrup. Next was the slice of alien fruit. She didn’t know what it was or what planet it hailed from, but it was tangy and much more to her taste.

She ignored the rest of the dance club. It was easy to ignore. The relentless thumping of the music and the dim blue lights colluded to make the space seem unreal. Less intentionally, it also made it unmemorable.

She wondered why so many people seemed to like it.

Dr. Bonumomnes was not there for the music, and she certainly wasn’t there for the dancing. Much to the disappointment of a few people, she wasn’t there to enjoy the attention of the other patrons either. She only came out to indulge in the most shameful of her various vices—mixed drinks. The ones that might as well be someone pouring vodka on a pile of pure sugar to make sludge. Add some neon food coloring and a little paper umbrella and voilà!

You could really only get a good one at a dance club.

Jane was health conscious enough she didn’t indulge often, but on some of the harder days, especially when she was sick and tired of listening to her obsessive brain endlessly fuss over a question or problem, she found herself longing for one. It was the best way to tend to her neglected sweet tooth and her desire to feel the joyful lilt of mild intoxication. Two birds with one stone.

Dr. Jane was nothing if not efficient.

The bartender dropped off an ice water in passing.

She looked up in surprise. “Thank you.”

Had she come here often enough the bartender recognized her and knew what she always ordered for her second round? Did that make her a regular? She’d have to learn the name of the place one of these nights.

She turned the barstool around so she could gaze over the undulating crowd.

A man sat down on the barstool next to her. She ignored him. Not a glance. She didn’t even shift away from his obnoxious proximity. She’d discovered years ago that any sign that she recognized someone’s existence could be used as a segue to an awkward introduction.

He ordered a beer from the tap, then turned to her.

Jane shut her eyes. Oh, no. One of the determined ones.

“Forgive me,” he said. “I know you probably want to be left alone—”

If they can tell, why do they bother?

“—but I’d kick myself to hell if I missed this opportunity.”

Here comes the hashed out old compliments.

“Are you Dr. Bonumomnes?”

Jane’s eyes flew open. That was not one of the tired pieces of flattery she was used to hearing. He’d even pronounced it correctly.

She swiveled to face the man.

He might have been in his late forties, or a well-kept fifty-something. He was decently, but not exceptionally, handsome. And there was something else. He was somehow striking, though Jane couldn’t figure out why.

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“Well,” she said, “you win. That’s the first time I’ve ever heard that pick-up line.”

The man smiled. If he laughed, the sound was lost in the roar of the music. “It’s a rather shameless compliment, I know. If I’m wrong, I hope you’ll tell me soon. Or are you going to let me keep embarrassing myself?”

“I’m Jane Bonumomnes. But how do you know me? Have we met before?”

“Sadly, we have not. I’m a fellow biologist and a tremendous admirer of your work.” He put out his hand. As they shook he said, “The name is Moric Sipos.”

“Sipos?” Jane hunted through her memory. “I’m sorry, is it Dr. Sipos?”

“It is, but it wouldn’t surprise me if you’ve never heard of me. I’m probably before your time.”

Jane made a wry expression. “I’m thirty-nine, Dr. Sipos.”

“Oh!” Jane knew she was getting old, if only because of how flattered she felt by his abrupt exclamation. “I thought you were in your twenties. You look…considerably younger than you are.”

“Ah, thank you.” Her tone was flat.

“You probably hear that a lot.”

“I do. Usually from some young man who didn’t realize he was hitting on someone almost old enough to be his mother.”

Sipos took a long sip from his beer. “Well, you’re not old enough to be my mother, god rest her ancient soul. But I wasn’t actually thinking about whether or not we were contemporaries. I’ve been working for the Supremacy military for a decade or two.” He made a face. “I’ll have to be careful not to sound too old.”

Jane smiled.

“The pay is good—was good—but I wasn’t allowed to publish or share any of my results. Even at your venerable age, you probably weren’t reading biology reports when my name was last in print.”

“You retired?”

He adopted an offended tone that was blatantly false. “Just how old do you think I am?”

Jane let out a brief unheard laugh.

“No,” he said. “I was let go. Budget cuts, and I was first on the chopping block.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Doctor.”

“Please. We’re all doctors here. Call me Sipos. Or Moric, if you prefer.”

“You can call me Jane.”

“Thank god! That last name of yours.” He shook his head.

She laughed again and raised her eyes to look at his face. He was checking her expression out of the corner of his eye as he sipped his beer. Jane felt herself blush.

She asked, “What did you work on, Sipos?”

“I wish I could tell you,” he said. “but even though I no longer work for them, it’s still classified information. However, I can tell you I worked with aliens.”

“Don’t we all?”

“Yes, I know. Not very distinguishing. But it does explain why I’m so interested in your work.”

The glass Jane had lifted to her lips stopped moving. She stared hard at Sipos, not noticing when she lowered her drink back down to the bar.

“The xenos,” he said.

Her hand left the glass and retreated to her lap. “You’ve been watching my site.”

“Uh, yes. I have. You don’t mind, do you?”

Jane shook her head. “That’s what it’s there for. I’m not upset, I’m…I guess I’m surprised. You did say you were from the Supremacy?”

He nodded.

“I didn’t think anyone in the Supremacy cared—was watching.” She hissed her correction.

Sipos took off his rimless glasses and tapped them on the edge of the bar. “There are probably more of us than you’d guess. It’s not like we can speak up about it. If we raise our heads they tend to get”—he made a quick gesture with his hand—”lopped off. There’s a reason I was first to be let go.” He replaced his glasses.

For a cold moment, Jane worried it wasn’t a metaphor. When she realized her mistake, she silently cursed herself. Maybe she didn’t need any more alcohol. “I’m sorry, Dr. Sipos.”

“I’m not. We’re supposed to be scientists, not slaves.”

Dr. Jane shifted under his steady gaze. Laughing? Blushing? Now squirming? What the hell was wrong with her? She felt a grumble of anger rise in her soul. Ah. Now that she was familiar with. She looked back up at Sipos.

“So what brings you here?” she asked.

“Here, here? It was the closest place to my motel that served beer.”

“I meant what brings you to Gaoyun?”

Moric Sipos rubbed his jaw. “Uh, you. Not to put too fine a point on it. That’s why I was so surprised to see you here. I was going to start looking for you tomorrow. I was hoping that you’d let me see your lab. I’ll be bold enough to admit I would also love to see your specimens and journals, if that’s permitted.”

The short pause in their conversation was highlighted by the end of the song.

“That shouldn’t be a problem,” Jane said in the silence, “but I have to warn you about a few things.”

A new song took up the beat.

“All right,” Sipos said.

“I’m afraid I’ll be working, so it won’t be a personal tour. I can take enough time to show you where things are, but I have experiments that I have to work on.”

“No. Absolutely. I understand. I’ll be sure to stay out of your way.”

“And there’ll be security measures.”

Moric Sipos smiled. “Please, Jane. I worked for the Supremacy military. I know all about the need for security.”