Wild Space Pt. 04

"Kello said you were pretty, but he didn't say you were beautiful." The woman cocked a hip and leaned against the door jamb, throwing an arm up to run her hand through her hair. "But what are you wearing, honey?"

She left the severed fingertip where it was and smiled as she stepped out from behind the desk, the pistol already drawn behind her back. "It's a tactical bodysuit with onboard computer capability. Very expensive, definitely more so than what you're wearing."

The woman blinked as she tried to keep up. Her seductive pose became one of anxiety, hands clasped before her.

"Where's Kello?"

You'll see him soon, Edge thought as she raised the silenced pistol.

***************************

Mobussah boasted one of the finest race tracks in the entirety of the Barrens, ringed around the planet and its myriad of natural satellites. The races customarily began on the surface of the planet, with racers eventually taking off to the skies and stars to weave in and out of the planet's ring formations, a minor asteroid field, small moons and more. Sita hadn't ever seen one live, but allegedly they were the most exciting sporting event the Barrens had to offer.

"We're in luck," Yomp announced brightly. He was tapping at the Lady Chloe's onboard computer with a red and pink clawed hand.

"That'd be a nice change," She said in a flat voice.

"Wouldn't it," The old man replied but then rushed ahead to share the good fortune. "The Natals have a Ranger in their family."

"Is that so!?"

"Well, they used to. A great uncle. But it'll make them friendlier than usual to us."

Sita knew what he meant. The Barrens Rangers held sway on their asteroid base and the surrounding space, naturally, but even on a nearby planet like Mobussah, peaceful and festive, they could encounter problems of jurisdiction. Or so people liked to say. In Sita's mind, they ought to be grateful that the Rangers were willing to visit them and investigate crime, but that wasn't always the case. A family member who was a veteran of the Rangers would be a decent ice breaker to begin the investigation.

Yomp was busy again at the computer, and smiled his watered down, old man's smile at her. "They've already sent us a message, the family. Said to land at the racing headquarters. You a race fan, Ranger Sita?"

"I don't like when ships fly fast here on the job or as a sport," She said lightly as the Lady Chloe began to descend. "You, Yomp?"

"No way," The alien said with the emphatic disdain of the elderly. "I'll take a fight over any other sport, any old day of the week. Sports ought to have a bit of blood, stuff to analyze, things you can argue with other fans over. You can't even see the ships as they go racing about, what's the point of that?"

It wasn't hard to spot the Natal family racing headquarters. It was the most modern and largest building in the planet's largest and most modern city, a reverse pyramid standing upon a heavy base. A ramp wound its way around the exterior of the building, the better to haul engine parts and half completed ships to different parts of the facility. Above the four sided building was a wide set of blinking, hovering traffic cones indicating a race or test track. Similar cones were strewn in pairs all around the planet, in orbit of the planet and in evidence all over the system for larger races. They were all glowing and hovering at different intervals, and the very sky itself seemed to blink, even in daylight. Sita found it disorienting but imagined the planet's inhabitants were accustomed to it.

They landed on the roof, and the doors of the Lady Chloe shakily opened. The weather was pleasantly cool, and despite the constant lights in the sky Sita could see for miles in every direction in the clear blue.

"Good day for a race," Yomp said as he stepped out and stretched luxuriously. The old man's hip usually acted up on him even after a short hop, and seeing no one in sight, he leaned against their ship and brisky worked out the stiffness in the joint, flexing his body in a series of jerky motions.

Sita watched him out of the corner of her eye but pretended to be studying the area. Yomp was nearing the mandatory retirement age, and from the looks of him it couldn't come a moment too soon. She worried about that, sometimes, that the oldster watching her back might be too slow one day and mean the death of her. Embarrassed and feeling guilty, she turned away.

The roof began to shake and a gigantic section of it rose swiftly. Sita stepped back and her hand went to her cudgel, but it was just a lift. A big one, though, large enough for a vessel. Of course, she thought. This is how they launched a ship they built. Yomp hasilty stopped his animated stretching and both Rangers neatened their uniforms.

A brown Vimoran with white splotches of an age with Yomp stepped out of the rooftop lift, and smiled when he saw them. He shook out his sleeve as he extended his hand to shake, a jeweled bracelet clinking on the wrist. "Zan, vice president of development. Welcome to Natal Racing, Rangers."

"Thank you. Ranger Sita." She shook the offered hand.

Yomp shook hands, human style, and then introduced himself in their shared tongue. Zan happily rattled off a string of sentences that ended in a guffaw and big smiles. For a few minutes, the two old men, one red and pink, the other brown and white, exchanged rapid fire words in the buttery sweet sounding language until they switched back, for her sake.

"I was just telling Ranger Yomp-"

"Please, just 'Yomp.'" The old Ranger said.

Sita knew that it was only because the two aliens spent so much time around humans that they forewent the other's titles. On Vimora, Yomp had told her, title and rank were very important.

"Then you will both call me 'Zan.'" The alien said. "I was just telling Yomp that we haven't had a visit from your department since the official funeral for Daven Natal, our owner's brother. It was a lovely ceremony and quite an outpouring for him, I don't mind telling you."

"Rangers take care of their own," Sita told him. "We're tight knit that way."

"I gathered that from the funeral. I am told that Daven loved his time in service."

"Maybe we could get indoors?" Yomp said hopefully. "The lights in the sky, they're pretty, but they make me a bit nauseous."

"This way." Zan led them to the lift, open on all sides, and as if on cue it began lowering them back into the building. "You ought to see Mobussah on a big race day. It's like fireworks going off in the sky."

"How many races can you hold at once?" Sita asked.

"There are minor races going on at nearly all times," He told them. "Some are going on this very minute, though far too distant for us to see here. For the annual Town Opener, the beginning of race season, this entire city will essentially shut down. And for the Interplanetary, held every ten years, the entire planet unites in celebration."

They were led along a corridor, all of it a soft gold shot through with black, the Natal colors. They must have been in the executive nest of the corporate tower: the windows went from floor to ceiling with a material so transparent that the entire blinking sky was visible. The floor underfoot was lustrous and clean, the two pairs of boots of the Rangers clicking noisily over it.

Zan brought them to a conference room, where a great oaken table stood, a computer terminal at each chair. The vice president of development bade them to sit.

"Can I get anyone anything to drink?" He inquired.

"Thank you, we're fine," Yomp waved a small handheld computer. "Can I jack in here?"

"Feel free."

"This is going to spoil us," Sita remarked as she plugged her standard issue Ranger computer into the tabletop terminal before her. She found the latter amazingly crisp, responsive and softer on her eyes than the grainy white and black unit she customarily used.

"Natal Racing wishes to cooperate with every aspect of your investigation. Your message mentioned something about a family ship?"

"That's right," Yomp told the other Vimoran. "The Pink Lady. We found it four lightyears beyond the Nikara Nebula. Somebody had set a course and wiped the logs."

"Pink Lady..." Zan's clawed fingers played over his own terminal. "That's a family one, alright. But it's not on any official assignment."

"There was something else," Sita said quietly, peering over her own terminal. "There was a body aboard. Human female."

"I see. That's troubling." The Vimoran said. "Any idea who she is? Or was?"

"None." Yomp replied. "We were hoping you could tell us from the ship."

"It's just one of many personal transports in the personal family fleet," Zan twisted his terminal and tapped the screen with a finger. "It's even allegedly still docked here on Mobussah. Our fleet manager will be surprised to learn it's actually elsewhere."

"Stolen?" Sita asked her partner.

"I wouldn't go that far, yet. It could be a simple accounting error, though its one big fucking coincidence." Yomp smiled at his fellow alien. "Sorry."

"Nonsense," Zan said with a half grin. "We're racing folk here. No offense taken."

Sita didn't know about that. Vimorans were a proper people, and Zan was a top level executive, not a cop. She could sense awkwardness in the air after her partner's salty response. She cleared her throat.

"We'd be obliged if you'd send us any information you have on the Pink Lady. Logs, crew, specifications, anything at all."

"I will have my assistant compile a report, of course." Zan stood, as if to signal the official end of their meeting. "I can send it to you via the usual channels, of course, but you'd get it quicker if you stayed here on Mobussah."

"How long?"

"A few hours, six at the most."

Yomp turned his black eyes on his partner, who nodded eagerly. She'd contact the lab back at their base, tell them to forward anything that came up about the body their way.

"We'd be happy to."

"Then we'd be happy to treat you as our guest. Hotel accommodations in the city, and of course a meal voucher good for the best restaurants on the planet."

"Zan, that's too much," Yomp said in the silence that followed. "We don't require such-"

"Non-negotiable, I am afraid." The executive smiled. "And orders from the family, no less, so it would not be polite to refuse. They miss Uncle Daven, who was one of yours. And you're helping us track down a murderer and you've recovered one of our ships. It's the least we can do."

"Yomp should speak for himself," Sita said with one of her shy, soft smiles. "I for one could use a bit of pampering."

"That's the spirit!" Zan said. "I'll have the particulars sent to your hotel. Two rooms, naturally. It's downtown, the Stellaris. You'll be given suites for a team pilot family, all that could be arranged on such short notice, unfortunately. Its restaurant and bar are excellent, but your vouchers are good most places. Enjoy."

*******************************

As she threw her leg over the edge of the tub, skin reddened and glistening, Sita thought that she could get used to this.

When she'd beheld the suite she could hardly believe her eyes. On Benbar, Sita had lived with her family in a single room that housed all nine of them. On the base, she was given a slightly larger than normal single family barracks, as she was married. But the suite in the Stellaris consisted of four beautifully furnished rooms: kitchen, bedroom, bathroom and one room simply for lounging about with a cocktail in her hand, as she was doing now that her bath was done.

Yomp had made arrangements with Zan to dine with his family, an impromptu gathering, but the two Vimorans had hit it off. Gracefully as she could Sita had declined their invitation, and the two of them had seemed relieved. She didn't take it personally. As much as she loved Yomp, Sita was looking forward to some time to herself. As he was no doubt yearning for some time apart from her and with his own people.

The Natals had provided clothing, and arranged for her uniform and armor to undergo a deluxe laundry cycle and repair, the same kind the team Natal racing drivers used. Sita was wearing a robe made of the softest material she'd ever imagined, with a modest but attractive outfit already laid out for her on the bed, all of it provided by the hotel. She couldn't remember the last time she had felt so relaxed, so spoiled.

It was pleasant to think that she did not have to go home to a bed consisting of a foam pad over cold stone, where the air smelled like slightly burned ozone, to a distant husband, and that she could simply sit here with her robe and cocktail for as long as she liked. But already the outside was calling to her, a yearning to experience whatever this strange world had to offer.

First things first, however, she gathered up her dark hair in a towel and smiled at her reflection in the mirror a few times as her comm system called back to base. She was grateful the connection was voice only: doubtless she'd be mocked or envied for being pampered as she was now.

"This is Lieutenant Chiugo," A rough human voice said.

"L.T., this is Sita."

"You still on Mobussah, Ranger?"

"We're staying the night," Sita told him, picturing the tall, balding lieutenant sitting in his drafty office. She wiggled her toes luxuriously against the thick carpet underfoot. "The racing exec we met says he will have something for us tomorrow at the latest."

"It's still early days yet." It wasn't Chiugo's way to praise or acquiesce. He merely grunted with words.

"Anything on our body?"

"Nothing yet. Ensign Alla just got back on the station." Though he usually sounded as if he'd been gargling rock dust, Chiugo managed to come across just a bit more perturbed than usual. "She wants to speak with you as soon as you get back. Low priority, I'd bet. I think she just wants to rattle her saber a bit."

"I'll check in with you and her tomorrow when I get back. Sita out." The prospect of having to talk with the political officer didn't exactly excite her, but she wasn't going to let anything ruin her mood. She severed the connection, and twirled in her chair and sipped her cocktail. Her hair ought to be dry soon. She would dress and then see what Mobussah had in the way of nightlife.

It was much later, as she prepared to leave, that she realized she hadn't thought to call Arold, her husband.

***********************

After dinner, Sita walked the streets, thronged with race fans, tourists, families and off duty track workers. By night the lights in the sky were more pleasant, less disorienting. Mobussah, she soon learned, was race-crazy. Thanks to the night sky she could now see far off races taking place, and in the restaurant she had dined at the entirety of the bar had been entranced by other races being broadcast, statistics, talk programming, panel shows, fiction, all of it geared towards racing and competition. It was pleasant to get away from the shouts and announcer's voices for a while.

Her mind went to the Pink Lady. It was exceedingly strange that a corporation and a family such as the Natals would simply lose a ship. The hotel, the meal voucher, Zan, her stay on this strange world and its obsession with racing...it was all so organized. The Natal racing team was also the best in the Barrens, the pride of everyone on Mobussah, regularly competing against other worlds and dominating.

But as Sita took in the splendor of the world around her, the lights in the sky, the racing ships zooming by far away, she realized that it might just be the truth. Natal Racing and its various entities was a star system wide titan, very profitable, and the family was regarded nearly as nobility, rich and respected. But no family was perfect, and a company such as theirs was immense, difficult to run. Mistakes were bound to happen.

Her thoughts were interrupted by music pouring out of a tavern. Sita belatedly realized she had entered the upscale red light district of the city. It was a neat and orderly place, unlike the small tunnels back on the base where the Rangers employed working men and women. Of independent contractors there were none: the only people walking the streets were tipsy couples and well dressed men and women, none of whom appeared dangerous or lecherous. She had been to more red light districts than she could count, both on the job and off, and this was the cleanest and least threatening she had ever seen.

Billboards and signs were all around her. It's all business, Sita realized as she saw a large electronic advertisement for the Steel Rose, a sleek logo of the house's namesake that dissolved into a hot pair of smooching pink lips. Text floated beneath the image, "A house for ladies." Intrigued, she followed the signs directions and soon found herself at the establishment itself.

Sita would have mistaken the Steel Rose for a home had she not been in the know otherwise. Its exterior was nondescript, a single door at the top of a simple stairway. Inside was only a reception desk manned by a woman with lovely brown skin and pink hair, who was already smiling at her.

"Welcome to the Steel Rose," The woman said in a professional but warm voice. "Do you have an appointment?"

"I'm afraid not," Sita said shyly, suddenly feeling very overwhelmed. She may have done her hair and dressed sexier than usual, but she was still just a beat cop, a Barrens Ranger who chased down criminals. She wasn't any kind of classy lady. Maybe she should have chosen a cheaper house.

"That's quite alright," The receptionist said, her smile not wavering for an instant. "That simply means you may be in for a bit of a wait while we figure out your experience this evening. And you're also a new customer, if I am not mistaken."

Sita was, and in a moment she was seated by the receptionist desk, a glass of some expensive imported bubbly water with a vegetable garnish in her hand, sipping and savoring the spicy flavor it imparted to the liquid, and answering a bevy of questions.

"Your name and line of work, miss?"

"Sita. I'm a Barrens Ranger."

"How adventurous," The receptionist said pleasantly. "What kind of encounter are you looking for tonight, Sita?"

"I...just the usual kind, I suppose." She said and felt her pale face flame. "I am not used to this. Our brothels back on the base are not as nice as this."

"We at the Steel Rose pride ourselves on personalized service. It'd be our pleasure, not to mention yours, to offer you your utmost fantasy."

"I want something anonymous, something impersonal," Sita said very quietly. "I want to be in control, but not verbally. I can't explain it, really. Like..."

"Let's start with the basics," The receptionist said gently, used to the anxiety she was seeing with a first time customer. "Would you like to be with a man, another woman, or something else tonight?"

"A man." Sita said immediately, and didn't stop to ask herself why. She appreciated being walked through the next few steps, unfamiliar with this process as she was.

"You wanted something impersonal. If you'll indulge me I believe I can make that happen, but you'd have to trust me." The receptionist said. She must have seen the trepidation on Sita's face. "Trust me, I said, Ranger Sita. I have arranged for hundreds of encounters over the years, perhaps thousands, and never once have I disappointed. Let me make this a special evening for you."

Sita nodded her consent. Back on the base, it was nothing like this. The working men and women were very familiar, civilians who had been in the sex industry previously or found they had a talent for it later when they arrived on the base. They were providers of a service, like the chefs, the mechanics, and so forth, no more or less special. They didn't offer experiences like this.