A Soldier For All Seasons Ch. 12

Jarek flicked his hand to pull up the holocall, flattening his face to avoid showing his distaste. He found the Lunari distasteful, but he'd worked with beings even more disgusting for lesser causes.

The Lunari's face appeared, instantly scowling, the features odd on his handsome face. He was an aristocrat at first glance, that long face, those cheekbones, the way he looked down on everything. His long blond hair went down to his shoulders, perfectly straight in a way that only Lunari could manage.

"Jarek." He bit out, giving a curt nod.

"Elathariel."

"It's a disaster, no?" He crossed his arms. "Nothing that can't be fixed, but—"

"Just a little bump in the road." Jarek said smoothly. "We'll look back on it and laugh the next time we share a glass of Ambervale."

Elathariel grimaced, looking to his side, the way he did every time he wanted to bring up a sensitive topic, even though Jarek knew there was no way he would talk about this if the call wasn't secure. "The bugs are angry." He murmured.

Jarek shrugged it off, lips thin. "The bugs fucked up, they can't be angry. We delivered her on a silver platter. They dropped their fork and then fumbled the whole platter."

Elathariel snorted at the analogy, but he looked even paler than normal and his voice dropped to a whisper. "Jarek, by Vashayna. What they did to the other Lunari."

Fucking Lunari, Jarek thought — last in, first out. "They did what was necessary, but it'll all be worth it in the end. We'll have this wrapped up soon enough. I'll talk to them."

The Lunari paused, swiped a hair away from his eyes, and firmed up his shoulders, eyes clearing.

Good boy, Jarek thought.

"The plan is still going ahead." Jarek continued. "Can you get her back onside?"

Elathariel smirked, more comfortable on familiar ground. "A few flowers, a heartfelt apology and a big media show, nothing I can't fix."

"We need her somewhere we can grab her, not on Sapenza."

"Trust me, women are all the same. She'll come crawling back. I'll petition the Queen again."

Jarek nodded — he didn't care what the Lunari would have to do. "This time, we'll take her in ourselves, since the bugs can't be trusted." He picked up his glass and saluted the Lunari.

"Sarel-sarel." Jarek toasted.

"Sarel-sarel." The Lunari downed his own whiskey, face twisting a little at the bitter taste.

Jarek smiled politely, wondering what type of fool downed whiskey.

Elathariel wiped his mouth. "What about Madam Mayko?"

Jarek pursed his lips. That was indeed the question. "She'll get a chance to prove her worth, one more time. Acropolis is so well placed, even though I would like to..." He trailed off.

The Lunari laughed, reading what he wasn't saying.

"It's not the same when you pay for it, even when you don't pay."

The Judge looked back, thinking on the mess in his cargo bay. The cleaning bots would take weeks to clean that up. "No," He sipped his glass. "No, it isn't."

***

Nate controlled his smile as he watched Ana finger her necklace absently, lost in the clouds as she stared at it. The necklace was a dirt-cheap candy necklace, all colors of the rainbow — Nate bought it as a joke for a single credit from a junk machine in front of the bar, while Ana was involved in an intense battle of compliments with the waitress who 'simply loved her style'.

When he gave it to her, Ana reacted like she'd been gifted with royal diamonds or the rare obennite.

"Baby, it's cheap as hell. You're meant to eat them. Strawberry flavor, probably."

Ana shook her head. "I won't! I'll keep it in my dresser." Her smile was angelic, unable to stop touching it. She leaned her head on his shoulder and nuzzled his chin, enjoying the feel of his shaven skin on her own. "A gift from my lover." She murmured.

Her hand crept along his leg. "Do you want me to—"

"No, Ana."

"Just checking." She smiled mischievously. She did like to keep him on his toes, her hand on his inner thigh.

It was a smoky bar, darkened but given light by decent replicas of ancient glass lanterns, the sort that would be carried by people through foggy towns. Now, they sat on each table and on the bar counter, giving just enough light to highlight the patrons who would, perhaps, rather not be illuminated at all.

At the counter were the drunk regulars, shady men well past their prime, finding comfort in their liquor and their lechering. The waitresses, dealing admirably with a skimpy employee dress code, handled them easily — they had more difficulty with the snappish figures at the tables, those conducting business of a sort.

A shady bar on a shady planet — Serrush Mining, one of those planets that had been named, or rather renamed, by the corporations that owned the majority of the industry. This was the place Cipher's agent wanted to meet. It was more of a resource-rich asteroid than a planet, but it had enough to sustain some busy cities and nightlife. The city they were in was a mix of shanties and skyscrapers, those doing well in life walking hand in hand with the girls that weren't. Nobody blinked an eye.

As Ana's hand crept up his thigh, Nate thanked the stars that Cipher's agent had chosen a suitable bar for the meeting. It had privacy bubbles, for a price. It was one that Nate happily paid, since he really didn't want anyone seeing Ana try her own adorable brand of seduction on him.

Though it essentially consisted of purring, stretching, nuzzling and general cat-like behavior, it would still look bad in the news. Nate shivered as something wet dragged along his neck.

"Did you just lick me?!" Nate pushed her away, only for her to come straight back, half of the leather bench of their booth unused.

"You taste so good." She grinned, unrepentant.

Nate pressed the button that authorized the waitress to emerge through their bubble, carrying her tray of drinks. A pint for him, something with an umbrella for her.

"No licking!" He scolded Ana, who pouted.

"You two are just so cute together, mah goodness." The waitress tossed her blonde mane, eying the two like she wanted to eat them.

"Oh, we, us, I mean, we're not together." Nate bit out.

"Sure, sugar, whatever you say. Sweetie, you need to work some of that fashion magic on your man here." She looked him up and down, unimpressed with his black shirt and black pants combo.

Ana beamed at her. "Oh, he's more of a uniform kind of guy. Either that or the shining armor."

Nate gave her a hefty tip, hoping she'd keep her mouth shut as she waltzed away.

"What's wrong with my—" Nate cut himself off as his armguard beeped. Or rather, Isabelle beeped, emulating the armguard. She found it funny.

"Beep-boop. Incoming text message from Natalia Antonova."

"Ooh, is she that Meka hottie?"

"You barely saw her." Nate said. "And since when do you say hottie? Your new friends are a bad influence, I'm telling you."

"I saw her face." Ana argued. "And I saw her through the front-frame of her meka when she saved us. I saw her enough to know she was a hottie." Ana sipped her cocktail. "Also, she's a Meka pilot — they're all hotties."

"Stop saying hottie." Nate grumbled. Though it was true what she said. Since a vast amount of investment was needed to put one through the intensive meka training, the Federation only did it when they thought they could make the credits back through sponsors. The Meka wing of the military was the only one that had unashamed sponsorship and ads printed all over their uniforms and their meka frames, and their pilots were often tagged for ad campaigns.

"What's it say, Isabelle?" Isabelle disappeared, scrolling text appearing in her stead.

Good to work with you, Captain, shame you missed the afterparty. It was one to remember.

I got a little cuff on the ear from the gods above, but nothing too bad, since we got the Kalaverkash and turned the tide with it. My boss says I might even get a medal.

I hope they didn't turn the heat up on you — you really saved the day with that crazy plan of yours.

I'm stationed on the Destiny again, with the rest of your unruly boys! My friend Clara is all doe-eyed over your man Pelridge — tell me he's one of your good ones?

Perhaps we can get a drink when you return — I'm hoping that will stop the rest of your boys from hitting on me.

x Natalia

"Ooh, she's into you." Ana giggled gleefully, a little tipsy. "She wants you to insert your wrench into her meka."

"You're such a lightweight." Nate rolled his eyes, laughing. "You're not still talking to that Lauren girl, are you?"

"Maybe, maybe not." Ana wiggled her eyebrows. She took a bite of the lime wedge in her glass, eyes squeezing shut at the momentary sourness. "Natalia definitely wants you to plug into her Versaport, if you know what I mean."

"You used to be such a delicate Princess." Nate sighed.

"She definitely wants you to put her in docking position, am I right?"

"You were so innocent."

"She really wants your fuel in—ah!" Nate tickled her relentlessly, enjoying her blush and squirm. "Stop, stop, stop!"

When she was done giggling, Nate pinched her side. "I thought you'd be jealous."

Ana wiped her wet eyes, sniffling with a smile, and shrugged. "I do like having exclusive access to the Taranasar, but the Taranasar had thousands of girls. I'd better get used to it. Besides, the Taranasar needed thousands to defend him. Powerful men make powerful enemies."

Nate's eyes stared through her, trying to figure out what made her tick. How he was making her tick. The clockmaker and his loving clock. "Well, don't worry." He kissed her forehead. "I have quite enough trouble trying to keep up with you."

An amorphous black shape appeared on the edge of their privacy bubble, shimmering.

"Our guest has arrived." Nate warned. "Mask up."

Ana flipped the armguard and Nate's other purchase from Sapenza's part market came into action. From the metal choker on Ana's bare neck, a mask sprung up, a mechanized whirring for a moment until a black screen covered her whole head. In place of her face, a black void, overlaid with a chirping blue smiley-face, composed of dashes and backslashes.

Nate pressed the button to allow access and a man merged into the booth, like he was walking through a mirror made liquid, the bubble rippling outward. He was wearing an overcoat over a jacket over a hooded sweatshirt, every layer bulging, and for a moment Nate imagined weapons and drugs inside every pocket.

His narrow eyes narrowed further as he took in Ana's mask.

"Mind if I smoke?" His voice was deep, throaty, like every word had been run through a lawn mower.

"Go ahead. I'm Nate."

"No names." He muttered, pulling out a cigarette. The packet was from a known brand, but it was beaten up and old — Nate imagined what was inside was not quite mass-market tobacco.

They were silent until the man took a long, drawn puff and it seemed to revitalize him. "Alright, the message I got said you were looking to buy something the usual info broker's can't give you?"

"Yeah." Nate swallowed. "I've heard some things moving around about Judges."

The man snorted. "Yeah, what they'd do?" His eyes flitted to Ana. "Fuck your girl? Let it rest, man. There's no finding them, no fighting them."

"This is a bit more of a problem than romantic strife." Nate said with a tight smile.

The man evaluated him for a moment. A shape at the edge of the bubble — their waitress, more nervous than she was before, studiously avoiding the new man even as she laid down a pint.

"Which Judge?" The man asked.

"Ordered you a drink earlier, just in case." Nate said.

"Which Judge?" The man asked again.

"Anything else, boys and girls?" The waitress asked, smile too wide.

"Jarek—" Nate started.

"Fuck off, sweetheart." The man didn't even look at her, eyes locked on Nate's. "Word of advice, fuckface. Whatever you're into, it's way above your paygrade. You got a pretty bird underneath that mask, I bet. She's got a great set. If you want to keep her, stop asking questions that will get you killed. Judges aren't something to joke about." The man stood up abruptly and found the waitress in his way, frozen, eyes wide with fear. "Didn't I tell you to fuck off already?"

"Yes sir, sorry sir." She scampered and the man left with her, not looking back at Nate and Ana.

Nate blew out a long breath. "Well, that could have gone better."

Ana de-activated her mask. "What was his problem?" She scowled. "There was no need to talk about me like that. Or the waitress."

"Think we need to stop asking brokers about Judges. Hopefully this time we don't end up naked in an arena again." He smiled self-deprecatingly.

"I thought your spy lady said this Cipher or his agents would give us something."

"She did." Nate frowned. "Unless Jarek got to him before we did. He didn't even ask us for credits."

Another shape at their bubble — Nate granted it access and the waitress stepped through, carrying two tiny glasses of something amber.

"I didn't order any drinks." He frowned.

"Yeah, just thought you deserved something for dealing with that ass." The waitress grinned, more at Ana than him. "He shouldn't talk about you like that, honey."

"Thank you, Jana!" Ana's smile was genuine and wide. "That's sweet of you."

She blushed. "It's Anancita, made on my home planet. I won't get in trouble for giving it to ya, since I'm the only one that can get it in. My grand-daddy sends a box to me every year. Careful, it'll knock your socks off — grand-mama likes to call it a Teenager's Triple B — the baby bump builder."

"Well, now I have to try it." Ana quipped, smirking wider as she felt Nate's alarmed eyes on her.

"Enjoy!" Jana disappeared, mincing a little on her high heels.

"Cheers." Ana clinked glasses with him.

"No babies for you, Ana." Nate warned her as he sank his own glass. The liquid burned through him, chili-hot until it was down his throat, where it was so cold it made him shiver and then cough half of it out. Ana fared no better.

"Blasted bug-fuckery, what is that?" Nate gasped, eyes watering.

Ana coughed up hard, spluttering all over her hand. She leaned against him, laughing. "I kinda like it."

"Damn backwater bars," grumbled Nate. "Let's get out of here."

"Hang on, Nate." Ana looked at him with wide eyes. Underneath her glass, stuck to the bottom and staring up at her, a piece of paper. It had two words on it. Genesis Girls.

***

"Are you sure about this?" Nate said, staring up at the establishment. Whereas the Dirty Dozens on Acropolis had been a strip club where one could pay extra for off-the-menu services, Genesis Girls was an unashamed brothel. A flashing neon sign showed a red-dressed blonde picking up her dress suggestively, revealing stockings and heels.

Above the sign, three little balconies, where Nate knew there would usually be hookers standing at the railings for all to see, advertising themselves, standing in their finest. It was odd they were empty now.

"I trust her, she's a sweetheart." Ana insisted, pulling him forward. She pulled on the double front doors, frowning as they shuddered but didn't open. The doors had a little give, showing a fraction of light from within — like they were being held shut, not locked.

"That's weird." Ana muttered.

"Come on, follow me." Nate led them to a side alley, past the trash and litter. The side gate had been locked with a meaty padlock, rather than a forcefield like government buildings had for their security. Nate blasted it into a dozen pieces.

The gate swung open with a loud creak. Ana winced, nervous.

Through the gate, the garden tiles were dirty, weeds growing between them, along the seams and cracks. The path led to a more respectable garden, the lawn lush under the sunlight, the white furniture clean and free of moss. Clean what the clients see, Nate supposed.

The sliding glass doors that opened onto the garden were shut, locked. Ana tried peering through but saw nothing but darkness.

"Weird — these are business hours, right?" She said, glancing up at the evening sky. Nate swiveled on his ankle and spotted an unpainted door to the side, enclosed by whirring air-conditioning units, the ground dirtied by cigarette butts. An unmistakable kitchen entrance — he'd smoked outside enough of them, getting friendly with the mess sergeants, partly because they were cool, partly to get more food.

"This way." Nate forced the door, hearing a little snap in the lock. Hopefully, whoever was inside hadn't heard it. Through the empty kitchen. A large pan of soup had spilled over the floor, painting it tomato red.

As they crept forward, they heard voices.

"Listen bitch, I ain't got all day. We been playing nice because the boss said so, but he didn't say we had to be this nice. Where is the girl who is sellin' Judge talk?" It was a man. Nate peered around the corner to see a group of thugs, led by one with a metal arm, glowing blue, spindly titanium fingers latched around a woman's throat, while his other human hand trailed down her mauve corset.

She replied, soft and well-spoken, even with the pressure on her throat. Her Lops ears were flattened almost to her head, skittering through different colors in her fear. "Gentlemen, be reasonable. You scared her off so how can I know where the rat will run—" A crack against skin echoed through the brothel, cutting off the woman.

"Fuck." She bit out, holding her cheek.

"There she is." The man grinned at his friends, flexing his cybernetic arm. "Out of her shell, Madame Arlington, the Lops whore that worked her way to — well, is this the top?" He looked around at his surroundings. "Don't seem like much, truth be told."

"You and your friends seem to like it well enough, given how much you visit, Pavel."

"Don't call me that." He smacked her again. "My name is Cybershadow."

She let out a snort. "Sorry, Cybershadow. Difficult for me to see the man when I still remember the virgin boy, shy in my bed, the one I had to coax—"

"Shut up, Sheila!" Pavel hit her again, drawing blood as her cheekbone fractured, a cut under her eye opening. Her big ears went red, stiff.

Nate bit his lip as Ana tugged him back with both hands, eyes wide with alarm.

"We have to help." She whispered breathlessly. He ignored her for a second, taking another glance at the scene. Five of them, dressed in faux-military 'tacticool' camo pants and tactical vests with a dozen pouches. He'd bet all his creds that none of those pouches had any grenades, but the five still carried Phalanx handblasters — eighth gen, but still deadly.

You didn't need smarts to kill someone and stupid people were just as dangerous as geniuses.

Still, the fight was doable, if he could get closer. The kitchen provided cover, but with only one door into the lobby, they'd just get into a cover-fight where they could easily get flanked if one of them was smart enough to go out the front and into the side-alley.

And they had a hostage. If she was a brothel madam, she could probably handle herself, if he could get into the fight. This needed to be a quick fight where they didn't even have time to draw their weapons.

Nate smiled. Close quarters combat — it had been a long time since he'd done any of it, if you didn't count bar fights.

He turned back to Ana, evaluating her. She wouldn't win any marksmanship tournaments anytime soon, but she could point and shoot. She thumbed the loops in her jean waist nervously, accidentally pushing it down to show a little more of her black bodysuit.

"Princess," he murmured. An idea sparked in Nate's mind as he looked around the kitchen and pushed her back into the garden so they could talk without fear. "Take those jeans off."