“What do you mean, there’s no account by that name?”
I was standing in the local credit bureau swallowing the urge to strangle the teller in front of me. Tamping down my frustration, I tried a different approach.
“Listen, I find myself in a bit of an odd situation stranded in this part of the galaxy,” I said, smiling kindly at the teller. “Is there any way you could check it again? I know I have an account.”
Zodians who venerated the House of Sagittarius were often blessed by the archer with a certain natural charisma and talent for persuasion. It wasn’t exactly magic, but more like an x-factor quality that, when employed, could often sway people to see things our way. Ascella had called it my silver tongue and had often scolded me for relying too much on it to get myself out of trouble, or into it.
You won’t always be able to talk your way out of things, Skye, remember that.
Apparently, this was one of those times.
“Madam, I’m sorry but I’ve already looked your ID up several times and it produces nothing in our system,” the teller said. “There’s nothing I can do. You said you’re stranded in ‘this part’ of the galaxy?”
“Yes, I’m originally from the Pact Worlds,” I explained.
“I see...” he said, hesitantly, as if he had some unfortunate news he was reluctant to impart. “That is most likely the issue. Most of the credit bureaus in this quadrant aren’t connected to the intergalactic credit exchange.”
“So, you can’t access my account.”
“That’s technically correct, although to be more accurate, there is no account that exists on our network,” he said. “Most people who travel from other parts of the galaxy usually set up new accounts on our network and transfer credits into it before traveling here. If that were the case, I would be able to issue you as many credit cards as you needed.”
“Well, I wasn’t exactly planning a vacation,” I said sarcastically. “I wasn’t planning to be here at all.”
Most currency throughout the galaxy was traded in units called credits. That was no different on Kalo-Mahoi.
What was different, according to the teller, is that various denominations of credits were represented and traded using physical pieces of currency, something they called credit cards. Credit bureaus in this part of the galaxy were mainly used to store large amounts of credits, which patrons could withdraw in the form of credit cards.
“Who’s ever heard of a credit card?” I asked, irritated as the teller tried explaining their backwater financial system to me as if I was the idiot, not the advanced civilization still trading physical currency.
In most of the galaxy, especially the parts belonging to the Pact Worlds, those methods were deemed archaic and unreliable. It was too easy to lose your hard earned currency that way, either by accident or by force. Nearly every person among the Pact Worlds chose to consolidate their finances in a credit bureau account they could access anywhere that accepted credits.
Each person had different ways of storing and presenting their unique account code for payment. For some, it was a microchip under the skin or a special tattoo on the back of their retina; others preferred to memorize their number. Some of the more affluent had it encoded into their unique biological signature. NOBODY used cards.
“I’m sorry, madam. The best I can do is issue you a loan tied to your guest pass. It would of course have to be repaid before you could leave the city.”
“No thanks,” I said with a groan. “I’m trying to get out of debt, not acquire more.”
As I was leaving the credit bureau, I noticed I wasn’t the only one having trouble with the local exchange rate. Some other guy, also a foreigner judging by his reptilian features, was clutching his head and arguing with a different teller. I could make out the words “What the hell is a credit card?” and smiled to myself. At least I wasn’t the only one.
When I emerged from the credit bureau, I set out looking for the nearest bar. It wasn’t the first time in my life I found myself broke with few prospects. When times got tough, I always managed to find a path forward, and, for a Sagittari, that path usually began at the bar.
* * *
I drained the last of my drink with a loud gulp before pounding the tankard on the table in front of me and eyeing my competitor. Cheers erupted from the dozen or so patrons of the Merry Mermaid who had gathered to watch a scrappy young woman take on their most stalwart regular in a drinking contest.
“Your turn, Derrick!” said one man who had designated himself as the unofficial referee of this drinking game.
Derrick, a large, grizzled Syreni man who looked to be just past middle age, lifted a fresh tankard to his lips. He got about three gulps in before sloshing a big portion down his chin and bringing the tankard back down to the table. Shouts of laughter and good natured ribbing ensued as he waved his hand over the drink, conceding defeat.
“No more,” he slurred, and stumbled toward to nearest lavatory presumably to throw up.
Despite their heckling, the bar’s patrons slapped him on the back in a “you gave it a good go” type salute as he passed them.
My vision was only slightly hazy on the edges, but I had to admit that their local brew packed quite a punch. More than anything, it sat heavily in the stomach, making me wish I was also drunk enough to puke up the four tankards I had consumed. Maybe food would be a better option. As luck would have it, food wouldn’t be a problem for now.
Our self-appointed referee, who introduced himself as Murlek, took the seat across from me. He dumped a hand full of credit cards on the table in front of me. Most of the crowd that had gathered to watch had placed some sort of wager on the outcome.
“I’ve never seen anyone out-drink Derrick,” he admitted with a chuckle. “That man drinks like a literal fish!”
“I don’t think I’m allowed to laugh at that joke,” I said, leaning back in my chair with a friendly grin. Murlek threw his head back and belly laughed.
“Nobody likes to lose money on a bet, but I have to say it was money well-spent,” he said. “We’ll be giving him hell about this for months, and you can’t put a price on that kind of entertainment.”
I smiled as I counted the credits; it wasn’t a bad haul for 30 minutes worth of drinking. I counted out ten percent and slipped it to him as a tip for his trouble.
This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.
“Well try not to break his heart, too bad,” I teased. “Definitely don’t tell him I could have done at least twice that much.”
Merlek pounded the table with his palm as he bent over with laughter.
“I don’t know how long you’re going to be in town,” he said, catching his breath and nodding at my visitor pass bracelet. “But you’re welcome here anytime, Ms. Alnasi.”
“Just Skye,” I said warmly. “And thanks, I’ll definitely be taking you up on that invitation.”
With that, he picked up the credits I had tipped him and saluted a thank you as he made his way over to the bar. A few seconds later, Dick slipped into the vacated seat across from me. I hadn’t noticed him enter the bar, but he had a way of sneaking up on people that I found highly disconcerting.
“So, how did you do it?” he asked.
I raised an eyebrow at his question.
“Oh come on, you must have some secret method,” he teased. “A cleansing talisman, sobering potion, genetic immunity...You don’t even look buzzed.”
“Assuming I even had some secret method for drinking people under the table, what makes you think I’d tell you?” I teased back.
I had been successful using my suspicions of him as a shield when he was near. It was a good buffer against the constant bombardment of attraction I usually battled around him. I considered myself as much a lover as a fighter, so it wasn’t the attraction that put me on edge. It was the feeling of being out of control. As an outlaw and a Sagitarri, I loved to cut loose and let go with the best of them, but being able to turn it off and on, take it or leave it, was what kept me roaming free. Feeling like I couldn’t control myself felt too much like being trapped.
But being in a cozy bar like this after a friendly but successful competition, engaging in some good-natured banter with the locals was a salve to my spirit. I considered it the closest feeling I ever had to home. It was hard not to let my guard down and my naturally good nature emerge.
“Alright, I see you Skye Alnasi,” he said in that low, sexy way he always talked. “Keep your secrets. For now.”
“What secrets is Skye keeping?” Cash asked. He had just arrived at the bar and was pulling up a seat at their table.
“You’d have to ask her,” Dick said. “She’s a woman of many mysteries.”
“It’s not really a mystery or a secret,” I said. “Just practice. I’ve probably spent more time collectively in bars than anywhere else. Plus, I think I have an extremely high metabolism where alcohol is concerned.”
“Ah hah!” Dick said. “And there it is. The secret.”
Vomero and Matthew walked over from the bar, their hands full of drinks. They passed them around the table.
“None for me thanks,” I said.
“I think she’s had her fill for the day,” Dick said with a smirk. He took a sip from one of the tankards and grimaced. “How the hell did you manage to drink four of these?”
“I don’t see what the problem is,” Vomero said, taking a second big swig of the ale. Matthew went into a coughing fit as he took a sip of his drink.
“I’m guessing that neurotoxin thingy you do gives you some type of resistance to poison,” said Cash. “Cause this stuff is toxic.”
“It’s not that bad,” said Vomero. “You’re being dramatic.”
Matthew started giggling for no reason, then seemed to realize the sound was coming from himself and slapped a hand over his mouth in surprise.
“What’s in this stuff?” he said, but took another sip anyway. I remembered him drinking the whiskey on the transport without flinching and found his reaction to the ale puzzling.
“No. I’m not being dramatic,” Cash said. “My systems are clearly warning me not to keep drinking this stuff or my toxin countermeasures will be activated.”
We all shared a laugh, although none so loudly as Matthew, who was guffawing uncontrollably. Cash, Vomero, Dick and I shared amused looks.
“I think he’s having some kind of allergic reaction,” I said, a statement which Matthew found profoundly amusing. He bent forward and put his head between his knees as he belly laughed until he was gasping for air.
Vomero chuckled and picked his drink up for another swig, shrugging as he did so. Cash took another experimental sip, as if analyzing the contents of the ale. Dick pushed his tankard to the center of the table and waved a waitress over to order a whiskey. The surge of pheromones wafting off him was palpable as he placed his order with the cute Syreni woman.
I felt more like myself in that moment than I had since this whole misadventure began. Hell, if I was honest, I felt more like myself than I had in years.
When the waitress brought his drink back, the pheromones surged again as Dick gave her an appreciative smile and wink.
“Cut it out, Dick,” Cash said. “Between this weird ass drink and your freaky funk, it’s hard for me to isolate which toxin is which.”
“You’re telling me your anti-toxin thingy can immune you to my pheromones?” Dick asked incredulously.
“Of course, how else do you think I managed to resist jumping your bones while you were pumping it out all over Skye on the transport?” he said. Dick looked slightly sheepish and moderately disturbed at Cash’s description of the situation.
“Hear that?” I goaded him. “He’s saying you're toxic to women.”
Matthew burst out with another round of laughter, repeating the word “toxic” between cackles.
“What I heard,” Dick said, “is that my sexual appeal is extremely potent to both man, woman and machine.”
“You can’t say both and then name three things,” Vomero corrected, to which Dick shot him a dirty look.
“I can in this case, Professor Smartass,” Dick countered, “since Cash here is both man and machine, he counts as one.”
“Maath is haaard,” Matthew said, slurring his words as he dropped his head backwards to stare at the ceiling in amazement.
“Why did you drink four of these, again?” Cash asked me.
“I needed to make some quick credits,” I said. “Has anyone else had issues getting money out of the credit bureau?”
“You mean the farce that masquerades as a credit bureau in this part of the galaxy?” Dick commented. “Yeah, I went there. No luck, though. What a joke.”
“I didn’t see you there,” I said. “I was just at the credit bureau.”
Dick shrugged. “Must’ve just missed you. You were already here when I got done.”
“I was already aware of the financial system problems here, so didn’t bother trying,” Vomero said. We all looked at him with disbelief. “What? You’re telling me you don’t know the variances between the different financial systems throughout the galaxy?”
“You’re a weird man,” I said.
“I hadn’t really thought about it,” Cash said. “So, we can’t use our credits here? Then who’s paying for these drinks?”
“Skye just won a pile of credits in that drinking game,” Dick pointed out.
“Uh uh,” I said. “I make it a rule to never pay for drinks when I can so easily get them for free.”
“Not meeee!” Matthew said. “I’m BROKE!”
And he promptly fell out of his seat onto the floor, cackled one last time, and fell silent. We all leaned over to look at him lying under the table.
“Don’t worry,” said Cash, leaning back to take another awkward sip of his drink. “He’s still breathing.”
Ten minutes later, everyone’s drinks were tallied to their guest passes, except for mine, of course. I lugged a still inebriated Matthew to his feet and slung one of his arms over my shoulder. Cash, seeing me struggle under his near dead weight, grabbed his scrawny frame and hefted it over his shoulder like a sack of grain.
“Geez, kid, you really got to know when to call it quits,” Cash said as we collectively headed toward the bar door.
Outside, I paused to look up at the dome. I noticed that the glow emitting from it seemed to change colors throughout the day, as if mimicking the planet’s natural day/night cycle. From the looks of it, I judged the time to be late in the afternoon.
“I want to browse around the markets to pick up a few things before heading back to the transport,” I said.
Given our current financial predicament, we all agreed to try and bunk down on the ship for the time being. After all, we were already paying rent on it, apparently.
“I’ve got a few errands to run, too,” Dick said, and I looked at him quizzically.
I don’t know if it was some secretive vibe he was trying to pull off to seem cool and sexy or what, but he kept striking me as suspicious.
“What?” he said, catching my glance. “I was thinking of looking around for someone to fix up our busted ship. Right now there’s a giant hole in the side. Not the most secure thing in the world.”
“Good idea,” said Vomero. “I'll tag along. Maybe I can get my hands on something that will help me restore some of the systems.”
Dick didn’t look particularly happy to have company but said nothing.
“Really? So, I get stuck babysitting chuckles here?” Cash said. As if on que, Matthew hiccupped a little laugh.
We all pointedly avoided eye contact as we mumbled our goodbyes and started to leave. I had only stepped a few feet into the street, however, when the distinct sound of blaster fire rang out over the buzz of the entertainment district. Shouts and screams echoed across the plaza as people ducked behind cover.
I scanned the streets, seeing the glint of a silver barrel pulling back into an alleyway halfway down the block. I pulled my blaster and was about to give chase when Dick’s voice interrupted me.
“Skye!” he yelled, simply, and I turned to look back at the bar entrance.
Cash knelt on the ground clutching his lower right chest, a much more sober looking Matthew stood beside him looking concerned as a mixture of blood and hydraulic fuel seeped down his torso.