11.10
The same face, no longer obscured by a static screen, gives me a once-over. Shrugging, the woman leaves the door open and walks back inside.
Glancing back at the siblings—both just as unsure as I am—I lean in the door, pushing it open slightly, taking in the space. It’s a single room, half of it normal enough with a small kitchen and a couch and an open door to a bathroom. The other half of the wall is mostly covered with computers. Tablets set on tables, larger monitors, and a few devices I don’t really know the use for. One is just playing a muted movie. It bathes the rest of the space in the gentle blue of lit screens. Bat would probably have a field day in here.
No heat signatures exist to suggest there are other people in the main room or hiding in the bathroom, ready to ambush us. The woman herself is average in build if a little lanky, with several weapons resting near the computers or on her kitchen counter. Not heavy-duty, but I wouldn’t be surprised if she pulled something scary out from under her desk. Her eyes are intense and just a little bright enough in the dark room I wonder if she’s had some changes done to them. Maybe it’s the reason we’re here or the knowledge that if anyone was going to try to shoot me for parts, it would be down in this place—but she unnerves me more than usual.
I don’t particularly think Cath would send me into a trap, but I haven’t discounted the idea that perhaps the old woman doesn’t know this person as well as she believes. When you present people with options they wouldn’t usually have access to, some strange things can happen. Particularly since this one didn’t expect me to be a cyborg, who knows how she’s about to react.
“Come on in, I’m not stupid enough to get in a firefight with a cyborg,” the woman says, muttering something after I don’t quite catch, and I wonder if my thought process is written on my expression. Carefully, I pull my respirator down so I seem less threatening.
She might be suspicious, but that’s true for most people. I step inside, keeping my hand stay on my gun, and let the siblings in behind me. The door slides shut, but I can probably get through it if she tries to trap us in here. There are three of us and one of her, and I’m worth a small army compared to a human.
Everything’s fine.
“Cath sure knows some odd people,” the woman says.
Bit hypocritical. “Yeah, she’s…eccentric. I’m Aaron, this is Zane and Lalia.”
“Yala.”
She seats herself in a worn chair at the desk and spins to look at us. Her features are flat and graceful, and I don’t think she could be much older than I am. Probably younger. Places like this tend to roughen up their inhabitants.
“Cath says you’ll hack Amerov flight logs. That’s…ballsy.”
Yala shrugs. “I get easily bored.”
Zane grins.
Don’t start flirting, I think but don’t have the courage to say. The woman will probably hear me. If she wasn’t staring so intently with those bright eyes, I’d step on his foot.
“So what’s the story,” she asks, eyes on Zane plenty of time. Huh, maybe he should flirt. It’s not like I’ve ever had reason to do so to get something I want, but I’m well aware other people do.
Did Yvonne ever try flirting with me to get what she wanted? I wouldn’t’ve known either way, that’s fairly clear to me now. I imagine her trying to bat her eyelashes at me to get me to help her rescue Anya, me not noticing, and the ensuing rage it would’ve filled her with. I bite the insides of my cheeks so I don’t grin. I’m gonna have to ask her about that.
No point in trying to hide what we’re up to. “I’m unregistered. They say they’re related to me. I don’t remember my life before Amerov. We’re trying to figure things out.”
She quirks an eyebrow. She isn’t wearing much clothing, cut-off shorts and a top that only covers the bare essentials. It is pretty hot in here, I’m sweating inside my coat. Zane is eyeballing her stomach—really, I’m shocked he never made a pass at Yvonne. Then again, she did threaten to taser him in the balls when they first met, maybe that’s a turn-off.
“How much is this going to cost me?” I ask because I might have plenty of money now, but she doesn’t need to know that. It’s good to act put out at the idea of paying for expensive (and mildly illegal) activities.
She gives us all a look over as if she’s trying to judge if we have any money to our names, before asking, “So you just have a file you want me to hack? And test it against one of them, I’m assuming?”
“Right. Simple?”
“Sure. Should take me five minutes. I’ll do it for a thousand.”
“Good hourly rate,” I say dryly.
“You’re buying my silence,” she says with devastating seriousness, then drops the dramatics and shrugs. “Mostly because I don’t care.”
She’s honest. I kinda like her. Yvonne would probably like her too—they have the same headache of a personality, I’d be willing to bet.
“I have that,” I say and don’t bother trying to haggle. I want to stay on her good side, and I’m not exactly broke at the moment.
“I wanna see.”
Nodding, I let her hand over a small tablet so she can get a good read on the panel in my arm, the same as I did for the kid back at the bar on Amethyst. Hopefully, this whole ordeal won’t go nearly as bad as that one. While I have her tablet, I go ahead and transfer over the file.
“What do you want from one of us?” Zane says.
He’s started bouncing on his toes again, not making eye contact when I glance over at him. Still, he squeezes my arm quickly. Lalia’s eyes are flicking around the room, finally as suspicious as I am. I’d make a comment about how they’re finally matching my moody personality, but quite frankly, it’s giving me anxiety. I kinda wish one of them would make a bad joke.
“Hair is fine, it’s not complicated. Not a dead end, though, pull one or two out by the root. You can prick your finger if you’d rather.” She’s already looking at the file. “How the hell do you not remember where you’re from?”
Great, another nosey one. Can’t blame her, I suppose. I’m certainly being friendly enough, she probably thinks I like talking to people. I try not to wrinkle my nose. I miss Bat’s comforting weight in the backpack. Zane yanks out a few hairs and rubs his scalp. Little harsh.
“I was young and also I have no idea. It’s not supposed to happen.”
“Hmm. They did not want people getting in this file.”
“Can you do it?”
She shoots me an offended glare and pulls some candy from behind the monitor. “Of course, I can.”
She’s making the face Bat levels my way whenever I question him. Never mind Yvonne, Bat would probably like this lady. At least, he wouldn’t talk to her but would bring her up later.
“If you want your flight logs too I can get you those.”
I bet you can, for another fee. “I think the DNA is fine. Not much complicated about the flight logs part. They picked me up off Hytha and took me Amerov, not much else to it.”
Yala shrugs a shoulder. “How did you get this file anyway—give me that hair.”
With a sheepish grin, Zane stops twirling the strands of hair between his fingers and places them on a little tray Yala holds out without looking. She closes it, jiggles it absently, and shoves it into the back of one of her monitors. I really don’t know much about this kind of technology. It was just a little glass tray with a lid, not very impressive, but what do I know?
As subtly as possible, I creep a little closer so I can watch her monitor over her shoulder. It’s in a different language, and I really don’t know what I’m looking at. She shoots me a dirty look, and I wander to the opposite side of the room. Maybe if I pace a little, my heart will stop pounding like it’s gonna make a run for it out of my chest. Lalia sits on a stool in the corner, hands folded.
A radio pops on and nearly has me jumping out of my skin. In another language as well, I don’t understand what kind of news broadcast it seems to be, but Yala starts as well. Muttering under her breath, she switches it off and goes back to her computer. Lalia catches my eye and shrugs.
Zane hasn’t moved since he handed over his hair. He’s rubbing his neck a little, near some of the worst burns. They’ve healed very nicely, all things considered, barely noticeable now, but I’m certain he’s not back to full strength. Probably putting on a good show because of everything going on at the moment, and because I threatened to leave him in the ship. I stare at him until he looks over and then point to the couch. He makes a face.
Sit, I mouth, trying not to draw attention.
He makes a face I’d imagine a five-year-old would send my way.
I think about snapping my fingers at him, but don’t want to draw Yala’s attention.
“Got it,” she says, and I nearly jump. Stop being so twitchy, Aaron.
All three of us stare at the back of the woman’s head as she hums and taps at the monitor.
“No,” she says.
“No what?”
“No match.” She glances back at us. “There’s no match between you two.”