The car slid to the curb, two doors down, rims scratching concrete, a jarring sound. Rufus winced, turned off the engine, and turned to Duffy, finishing his third coffee of the day.

“We’re early,” he said, re-checking his watch.

“Looks like it,” nodded Duffy. “We should just go in, yeah?”

Rufus shrugged. He checked his badge, felt for his gun. He was ready, but he didn’t look it.

“Orange Glow’s the explosive one?” he asked suddenly, like waking from a dream. “I can’t remember. Do we need backup?”

“Don’t sweat it,” said Duffy, downing the rest of the cup and throwing it into the space by his feet. “We can do it either way.”

“What if it’s a factory?”

“It’s not a factory. It’s a studio apartment. Stop shaking your leg, you’re makin’ me nervous.”

“Sorry,” said Rufus, putting a hand on his knee. “So we go?”

“We’ll wait for backup,” said Duffy, eyeing the sweat on Rufus’ brow. “You don’t look too trusthworthy right now.”

Rufus nodded, looked out the window. A girl on a pink bicycle was pedalling in circles on the sidewalk across the street. She seemed oblivious the the tension in the air.

“What d’you think, Darvey?” asked Duffy, cricking his neck. “Sound like a plan?”

In the back seat, Darvey lifted his head half an inch, squinting at the pale sunlight. He cleared his throat, and his voice was a quiet grumble.

“Depends,” he said. “What plan are you talking about?”

“Waiting for backup,” Duffy said, not looking back.

“That’s a plan? Sounds like an excuse to me.”

Duffy cricked his neck again.

“So what,” he said, “you think the three of us can take it?”

“Three of us? Hell no, you guys are on your own. I’ll watch the front door, in case you fail that badly.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” grumbled Duffy, getting out of the car.

“Don’t mention it,” said Darvey, still not lifting his head.

Rufus and Duffy strode down the street to the converted brownstone, let themselves in and took the stairs two at a time until they got to the third floor. The walls were a sickly kind of green, and the carpet was frayed and had brown patches on it so big, it made Rufus ill just to look at it.

They stopped outside #301, guns ready, backs against the wall, and Rufus nodded. One, two, three…

Duffy kicked in the door and Rufus charged in, gun sweeping the room for danger. The dinner table was covered with bags of orange powder, beakers, vats of liquid, and a bunsen burner still going strong. Rufus turned to Duffy, the word “clear” on his lips, but stopped when he saw the closet door swing open.

“Duf—”

The gunshot caught Duffy in the back of the head, spraying Rufus with blood, and he shot once, twice, three times before his partner even hit the ground. The scrawny man in the closet ducked back, paused a second, and shot back. Rufus’ arm exploded with pain, and he dropped onto the table, spilling Orange Glow everywhere. He’d lost his gun, and he couldn’t make himself move to get it.

The scrawny man watched him with a subtle smirk.

***

Darvey had finished half his coffee, which meant it was time for a top-up. He pulled the flask from his jacket pocket, emptied it into the cup, and glanced at his watch. Ten thirty.

“Happy hour in Belgium,” he said. “God bless time zones.”

He strolled to the front door of the building, hand blocking the sun, looked around the street. The girl on the bike was still going in circles, as if there was some kind of charm to it, as if it weren’t just nauseating watching it. Darvey cleared his throat again, looked up the steps inside, took another swig of his coffee.

The shots echoed so loudly he choked before he could swallow, and a second later, he heard feet racing down the staircase. He threw his drink out, ducked around the corner, and reached for his gun. Missing.

“Dammit,” he spat, and looked back to the car. Too far. He looked around until he settled on a pile of trash by the building’s edge. A lot of banana peels, apple cores, milk cartons…

“Come on…” he cursed, and heard the door behind him open. A scrawny man with blood all over stumbled out and started running for cover.

“Dammit dammit dammit,” spat Darvey, and grabbed the first solid object he found: a dead mouse. He wound back and threw it as hard as he could. It connected with the scrawny man’s head, and he turned around, eyes flaring, shocked almost, stumbling backwards into the street.

Before either of them could say a word, a car fishtailed into the scene, catching the scrawny man in the legs as it tried to stop. His head cracked against the windshield, and he fell to the ground in a heap… but not before his gun let off one more round…

The pink bicycle toppled in a pool of blood.

***

From what he remembered, Darvey’s gun and badge sat on the Captain’s desk for hours while they grilled him. From what he remembered, every single person in the precinct watched him come and go. The people on the street all knew, he knew, and they hated him. Before the girl was even brought to the morgue, he felt the weight of the whole world hating him, and he hated them back.

“You smell like booze,” the Captain’d said. “Jesus, Mack. What were you thinking?”

He’d said nothing. There was nothing to say.

Duffy was dead. Rufus Palco’s widow was in the hall, wailing. Her voice drowned out the Captain every chance it got. And it got a lot of chances.

IAB wanted a blood sample, but his lawyer refused on his behalf. The press was toying with headlines all day: “DRUNK COP KILLS GIRL”, or “THE BOOZE FIASCO.” They’d figure it out by the six o’clock news. Something catchy.

Darvey walked back to his apartment, as sober as he’d been in months, and when he got inside, sat on his bed, tie askew, and looked at the photos on the dresser. His wife, his daughter, both smiling back at him. He inhaled sharply, licked his dry lips, and clasped his hands together.

“I screwed up,” he said to the photo. “God damn, I screwed up.”

He got up, opened the sock drawer and reached underneath, pulling out a small revolver. Half-empty. Good enough. He slipped it into his belt, made the sign of the cross… backwards, he realized, and tried it again. He kissed his fingers, touched his wife’s smile, and left home for the last time.

It was a long walk to the river, but the streets were mercifully empty. He paced along the edge, looking into the depths, hands shaking, eyes drier than they had any right to be.

He stopped by a side street that led right to the water, touched the gun again to be sure. He looked up into the sky, into the grey heavens, and opened his eyes wide for the first time in so very long.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ll make it right.”

Just then, he heard the squeaking of a door, and behind him, two men stumbled out of a building across the street. The Madrasah. An out-of-place dive bar that was open “24/7.” Darvey looked back to the river, and back to the Madrasah, and he knew what he had to do.

The story was on the TV inside, but they didn’t show his face this time. He ordered five shots of scotch before the bartender gave him the whole bottle and a bigger glass. The parents of the girl were on TV, crying the same as at the precinct, and it was too much for him to bear. He took his bottle, his glass, and his shame, and found a table in the back where no one would see him.

An hour later, the bottle was empty and Darvey had the revolver on the coaster in front of him. He toyed with it, spinning it, staring at it and nothing else.

“What’re you drinking?” asked a voice out of his view, and he declined to make the effort to see who was talking.

“What’re you buying?” he said.

“Another bottle of scotch? Is that your first?”

“First and last.”

“I’ll get you another.”

“I won’t need it soon,” Darvey said, and put the gun to the side of his head.

“You know that won’t work,” said the voice, Darvey was forced to acknowledge a man sitting across from him, black suit and crew cut, greying hair and a lined face. “Half the people that do it that way survive.”

“I won’t,” Darvey said.

“Oh, you will. The ones like you, they always survive. If you want to kill yourself right, you need better technique.”

“What are you, ‘Suicide for Dummies’?”

The man laughed, scratched his chin.

“I’m here to offer you a better technique.”

Darvey lowered the gun, put it on the table, but kept his hand on it, just in case. The room was spinning, but not so much he couldn’t see an intervention coming.

“Whaddya mean?” he slurred.

“I have a job I need taken care of, and I think you’re a perfect fit.”

Darvey chortled.

“Some job,” he laughed.

“It’s a suicide mission,” said the man. “I don’t expect you’ll last more than a day. But we need a representative, and you have the background and future prospects we need.”

“What kind of mission?”

“Narcotics control. The details… well, it’s best if I don’t explain here.”

Darvey shrugged.

“What’s the pay?” he asked.

“Living expenses, and the knowledge that you’re doing something good before you die.”

“You haven’t read my file, then.”

“Oh I have. You’ll be an excellent fit.”

Darvey laughed loudly, shook his head.

“So if I say yes, then what? You fly me to Bogota or something? Do I ever come home?”

“No,” said the man. “You’ll never come home.”

“Not even in a body bag?”

“Not even that,” said the man.

The parents were wailing on the TV again. Darvey gripped the handle of the gun, but saw the man waiting for an answer.

“Sure,” he said finally. “I never did much of anything in my life. Might as well have an interesting death.”

And with that final effort, Mack Darvey passed out in the bar called Madrasah.

The headache preceded consciousness by a solid minute, so when Darvey finally opened his eyes, he was already hating the day. The room was dark, and the bed was made of some kind of iron-laced fabric that chafed his skin as he sat up. The world did not sit up with him.

There were no sounds around him but a low hum, and even that was probably inaudible to the non-hung-over person. No city sounds. It felt odd, not hearing cabs in the distance. Sirens.

He got to his feet and stumbled through the door, found himself staring straight into an iron bulkhead. Pipes ran everywhere, like the guts of a submarine. Darvey made his way down to the lesser-lit side of the hall, peeked through a door into what appeared to be a cafeteria.

At one of the tables was a very large insect playing chess.

Darvey just stood and stared for a moment, then rubbed his eyes.

“Less booze before bed,” he muttered to himself. “Or more.”

The insect looked up, scratched the top of its head with a long, thin arm.

“Greetings, biped,” it said to him with a woman’s voice, but he wasn’t sure how he had heard the words. “You look like shit.”

He glanced around himself, just in case there was someone else in the room playing tricks on him.

“Uh, thanks,” he said.

The insect cocked its head.

“That was no a compliment.”

Darvey smiled.

“Sorry.”

“You are very strange.”

“Says the giant bug.”

The bug moved a chess piece, but didn’t look away from him. Her extra legs were starting to twitch. It reminded Darvey of Rufus in the car. He tried not to dwell on it.

“I am Aphid,” said the bug. “You are Darvey.”

“Yeah,” said Darvey. “Nice to… uh… meet you.”

“What is cheese like?” asked Aphid suddenly.

Darvey sat on one of the closer tables, frowning.

“Cheese?”

“I am studying bipedal cultures, and I am interested in cheese. What is its texture?”

Darvey shrugged.

“There are lots of different kinds, and not to be rude, but with my hangover the way it is right now, I don’t want to be thinking about cheese.”

“Why not?”

“It’ll make me puke.”

“I would like to see that.”

Darvey frowned at her.

“I don’t know what to say to that.”

Aphid hopped out of her seat and whisked across the room to a large thermos-looking device in the corner. She took a cup from the top and poured some thick, black liquid out, swishing it around, letting the steam rise out. Even from a distance, it smelled terminal.

“This is Titan-grown single-origin bean espresso,” she said. “It will end your hangover.”

“My hangover or my life?”

“I’m not sure,” she said. “But I am interested to find out.”

She handed him the cup and sat down next to him. He tried not to be put off by her body hair scratching him as she moved. She clicked softly to herself.

“You are odd,” she said after a long pause.

“Says the giant bug,” he said, and took a sip of the drink, and promptly spat it all over the room.

“Aphid!” called a voice, deep and round. “Where’re y’at?”

“Tea room!” said Aphid.

A moment later, a giant figure strode into the cafeteria, skin a thick crust, overlapping in places, his face like a wide slab of rock with some features carved in.

“Oh, it woke up,” said the creature.

“Kaps, this is Darvey. Darvey, this is Kaps. He breaks things.”

“I can imagine,” said Darvey.

“Hello, human,” he said. “Your eyes are ugly.”

“Thanks,” said Darvey. “Your whole face is ugly.”

Kaps nodded to this, went to get some sludge from the corner. Another figure slipped into the room, standing right next to Darvey without making a sound. He stared down at him with empty spaces instead of eyes.

“Greetings, Mack Darvey,” it said. “I am Lucas.”

“Lucas? Really? My dream state is getting lazy.”

“In what sense?” Lucas asked.

“Lucas isn’t an alien name. Aphid, I can accept. Kaps, sure. Lucas? No way.”

“It is your translator,” said Lucas, gently touching Darvey’s temple, until his hand was smacked away. “It is having some difficulty, and substituting at random.”

“So your name’s not Lucas?”

“It is for you.”

“What is it for you?”

“Lucas.”

“That sounds remarkably similar.”

“It is a function of the translator,” said Lucas with flawless patience.

“Sure it is,” said Darvey, and turned back to Aphid, who was drinking his sludge for him.

“So what is this? An acid trip or something? I don’t mean to be rude, but you guys are way too messed up to be real.”

“This is the Thomas Derra,” said Lucas.

“The which?”

“Thomas Derra. A Controlled Substances Agency vessel.”

“Called ‘Thomas Derra’?”

“Yes,” said Lucas.

“This dream just gets better and better.”

“You are now seven hours into your tour of duty—”

“And ya slept through all seven ovvem,” snapped Kaps.

“—and now would be a good time for your orientation.”

Darvey nodded, looked at his surroundings, laughed a bit.

“Orient me,” he said.

Lucas took a step away from the table, laced his fingers like a professor giving a lecture. His body was devoid of any real form, though he was clearly human-like. If a sketch artist had done a profile of him, there’d be nothing to do. It was unnerving.

“The Controlled Substances Agency is a multi-planetary organization dedicated to the policing and enforcement of narcotics trade around the galaxy.”

“Ah,” said Darvey with a smile. “Makes sense.”

“The Thomas Derra is an undercover vessel. We are assigned to District 27-A5, which includes your homeworld of Earth, as well as many others.

“Our primary function at this time is to infiltrate and deconstruct criminal enterprises within our district, and to prepare all perpetrators for a speed trial when at all possible.”

“Trial,” snickered Darvey. “In space.”

“Yes. You are laughing.”

“You have lawyers in space?”

“Yes,” said Lucas. “You are preparing to make a joke about lawyers and airlocks.”

Darvey shrugged.

“You read my mind,” he said.

“Not at this time, no,” said Lucas. “I should also mention that Agent Kz-Chen is absent at this time.”

“Kz-what?”

“Kz-Chen. Senior officer aboard the Thomas Derra.”

“Then what are you?”

“I am your Q’gsim observer. I help maintain decorum onboard. Aphid is your science and forensics officer. Kaps is in charge of tactical and weapons issues.”

“So what am I?” Darvey asked.

“Cannon fodder,” snorted Kaps.

“You are the junior officer,” said Lucas. “You have no speciality as of yet.”

“Sure,” said Darvey. “So what’s what? I’ve got a translator. What do you guys do for guns? Laser blasters? Oh say… do you have those… you know… jet packs inside lunch boxes?”

“Pardon me?” asked Lucas.

“You know, tiny little jet packs that fit inside… lunch… boxes? Am I the only one that watches TV around here?”

“Yes.”

“So what? No ray guns? Warp drive? Stuff like that?”

“We’ve got laser-based weapons,” said Aphid, taking a small pistol from underneath her abdomen and holding it out. “But they’re pretty pointless. A good energy field dissipates the blast, and almost everyone has a good energy field these days.”

“So what? Don’t tell me you use light sabers.”

“We just use kinetic weaponry,” she said, pulling out another pistol, this one shiny and sleek. “Needle guns are most common.”

“And you don’t have shields for those?”

“Kinetic shields? Yes. But because of the energy redistribution effects, blocking a needle with a shield will still put a hole through your body.”

“Sounds peachy.”

“It’s what killed your predecessor.”

Darvey glanced between Aphid and Lucas.

“Wait, I had a predecessor?”

“Yes,” said Lucas. “Gordito Kapoor. He was a very good human.”

“And he’s dead?”

“Yes. He is missed.”

“Well shit,” said Darvey. “I’d better get used to these guns. Hand it over.”

Aphid put the needle gun in his hand, and with a quick motion, Darvey put it to his temple and pulled the trigger.

The gun made a hissing noise, but Darvey was uniquely aware that he was not dead. He stared at the weapon, turned it over in his hand.

“I’m doing it wrong,” he said.

“It’s empty,” said Aphid. “We heard about your suicide problem, so you won’t be getting any loaded weapons from us.”

“Great,” grumbled Darvey.

“Waitasec,” said Kaps, striding over. “Suicide? He’s suicidal? Nobody told me that!”

“It is in his file, Kaps,” said Lucas.

“I wanna change my bet! No way he’ll last a day like this!”

Darvey shook his head, looked at Lucas with a frown.

“What bet?” he asked.

“We have a wager as to the duration of your lifespan. I have solid earnings on twelve hours.”

“I’m six,” said Aphid.

“I’m three,” said Kaps. “I’m switching to three.”

“You may not change your bet midway,” said Lucas.

Kaps kicked a chair across the room and stormed back to the sludge machine.

Darvey checked his watch. It was the middle of the night for him, and his eyes begging him to sleep. He got up, stretched, and headed back towards his room.

“I’m getting some shut-eye,” he said. “See if I can’t hang myself in my quarters. Have a good night.”

“Wait!” shouted Kaps. “Can’t ya hang yourself in… roughly twenty hours?”

Darvey turned, smiled at the rock-faced buffoon.

“I make no promises,” he said.

Just then, the lights flashed red, and a loud alarm blared out from all sides. Aphid dashed to a screen at the side of the room, tapped it on, and recoiled at the sight of a swirly blue logo on a black background.

“Orillians,” she said. “Everyone stay quiet.”

She tapped it again, and a face appeared onscreen. It had blue skin, wide yellow eyes, and a mouth that was just a little too big for its face. It was the picture of serenity, but its voice was rough and jarring, like a serrated blade on a chalkboard.

“Attention vessel,” said the Orillian. “You will be boarded shortly. Please prepare for our arrival.”

“Understood,” said Aphid, turned off the screen, and looked to Lucas urgently.

“What do we do? He’s not ready!”

Lucas put a hand on Darvey’s shoulder, squeezed gently.

“Mr Darvey,” he said. “I must impart critical information to you now. Please listen carefully.”

“Sure,” said Darvey.

“You must not speak to the Orillians. You must NEVER convey that you are human. Do you understand this?”

“Why not?”

“Do you understand it?”

“Not until you explain yourself,” said Darvey. “If you don’t, I’ll tell ‘em I’m human the second they step through the door.”

“That would be unwise.”

“Then kill me to stop me.”

“That would be equally unwise of me,” said Lucas, then appeared to think through a great many options in a very short time. “Very well. You may not express your species because there are no humans in space outside of government agencies. Admitting to being human is tantamount to declaring we are a CSA vessel.”

“And we’re undercover,” said Darvey, nodding.

“Yes,” said Lucas.

“I gotcha. I’ll keep my mouth shut then. No sense ruining your day too. So if I’m not human, what am I?”

“You are Centaurian, a race very similar to humans. Very few species will be able to see the difference.”

“Since y’all look the same,” said Kaps.

Darvey rolled his eyes.

“So how long does it take them to beam aboard?” he asked.

“Beaming?” asked Aphid.

“Transporting? Teleporting or whatever.”

“There is no teleporting,” she said. “They just need to dock and complete an airlock seal and—”

Three large Orillian guards stormed into the room, weapons ready, and performed a tidy sweep of the room. A moment later, a heavy-set Orillian in a dark coat made his way through through his guards, up to Aphid, and hit her across the face.

“Who is the commander of this ship?” barked the Orillian.

“I am,” said Aphid. “Who’re you?”

“I am Captain Gazoo—” Darvey tried not to snicker “— of the District Police Agency. We have reason to believe your vessel is transporting illegal merchandise through District space.”

“On what grounds?” asked Aphid, her voice bigger, tougher than before.

“Confidential sources,” said Gazoo.

“Well they’re wrong,” said Aphid, and was hit again.

“Any statements you make will be used as evidence at your trial—”

“Trial for WHAT?” asked Aphid, and took another blow.

“My men will begin searching your ship now, and you will all be processed and charged as facts emerge.”

“I don’t know what you’re—”

Gazoo was about to hit Aphid again when his fist met with Darvey’s firm grip. The two of them stood there, locked in a struggle. Darvey’s headache vanished in the adrenaline rush.

“Stop punching the girl,” said Darvey.

Gazoo looked Darvey up and down.

“Centaurian?” he asked.

“That’s right,” said Darvey, hoping that was the part he was supposed to play.

“Where do you come from? Which planet?”

“None of your business,” said Darvey.

Gazoo took his hand away, looked back at his guards. He motioned for one, who arrived snappily, saluting.

“Take this one into custody,” he said, and Darvey was grabbed by the arms, and shoved back towards the door.

“The rest of you will get by with a warning. Do not let me see you in my district again, or you will suffer the same fate as your Centaurian friend.”

“What kinda fate?” asked Darvey, over his shoulder.

“Something most severe,” said Gazoo.

Darvey smiled as they pushed him out the door.

“Works for me.”

The Orillian ship looked exactly like the inside of a jumbo jet as designed by Steve Jobs. It felt slippery, and far too glossy. Darvey was pushed down a long, rounded corridor, and deposited into a room with a sloping table and a few chairs. He sat in the far one, while his captors circled around.

“You are in serious trouble,” said Gazoo. “What is your name?”

“Bingo,” said Darvey.

“Bingo?”

“That’s my name-o.”

Gazoo stopped short, started at him with piercing yellow eyes.

“Are you mocking me?” he asked.

“Mocking? You? How could I?”

Gazoo slammed his hands down on the table, and leaned in close. He smelled like tuna. And not fresh tuna, either.

“I want to know about Orangina.”

Darvey laughed, covered his mouth quickly.

“God I love this translator,” he said. “What do you want to know about it?”

“What port do you ship from?”

“I don’t ship Orangina.”

“We know you do,” said Gazoo. “Do not play dumb.”

“I’m not playing. I’m honestly this dumb. I don’t ship Orangina. Fanta, maybe. Orangina, no.”

Gazoo grabbed him by the nose and pulled hard. It was unpleasant, to be sure, but not serious torture. It was hard not to laugh.

“You will tell me what I want to know!” screamed Gazoo, before his subordinate touched his shoulder, and he let go. They whispered to each other for a moment, and then Gazoo returned to the table, calm and composed once more.

“You have the right to an attorney,” he said, “but it would be better if you did not ask for one.”

“Well I want one. A lawyer. A SPACE lawyer.”

“It will complicate things if you—”

“No dice. Space lawyer. Now.”

“But it will—”

“Are you hard of hearing? I want a lawyer. A space lawyer. Right here, right now.”

Gazoo leaned back, nodded to his subordinate, and looked back to Darvey.

“You will have what you want,” said Gazoo.

“I’ve changed by mind,” said Darvey, eyeing the gun at Gazoo’s waist. “I don’t want a space lawyer anymore.”

Gazoo stared at him a moment, said nothing.

“You are playing games with me,” he said.

“Yes I am,” said Darvey. “I’m a bastard. Maybe you should shoot me. Put the galaxy out of its misery.”

“I will not shoot you.”

“Not even if I leap across this table and punch you in your pukey little face?”

Gazoo smiled.

“You couldn’t do that if you tried,” he said happily.

Darvey tried to move, but found himself fully paralyzed below the neck. When he relaxed his muscles, he was fine, but every intent to move froze him again.

“Touche,” he said.

“I will be honest with you,” said Gazoo. “You fit another profile we are looking for. Centaurian terrorists.”

“That’s just racial profiling,” Darvey said. “I want to talk to your supervisor.”

“Two weeks ago, Centaurian terrorists kidnapped a Governor’s daughter from District 27-A2. We have reason to believe she is being moved from vessel to vessel within OUR district, in order to elude capture.”

“Makes sense,” said Darvey, nodding.

“What is your involvement?”

“I’m not involved. I don’t do kidnappings. Not enough Orangina involved.”

Gazoo shook his head, leaned back and talked to his subordinate again. Darvey watched their weapons.

“I want to confess,” he said suddenly. “I killed a kid.”

Both Orillians turned to him at once.

“What did you say?” asked Gazoo.

“I killed a kid. That’s gotta be worth the death penalty.”

“What child did you kill? And how?”

“A girl. Some girl. She was playing in the street, and I…” Darvey looked down at the table, held his breath for a moment. The room was so silent, he could hear his heart beating. He looked up. “I shot her. That’s gotta be worth something.”

Gazoo blinked twice.

“You are playing games again,” he said.

“No!” Darvey said. “No, listen to me! I’m telling you the—”

“Where is the Governor’s daughter?” yelled Gazoo, getting to his feet again, hands curling into fists. “Tell me!”

“I don’t KNOW!” snapped Darvey.

“Where were you fifteen days ago?”

Darvey opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again. Where was he? On Earth. Bad idea, going there. He winced.

“Alaskan crab fishing,” he said. “On Titan.”

“What is that? Alaskan what?”

“Crab fishing. Fishing for crabs.”

“On Titan?” asked Gazoo, incredulous.

“Yes,” said Darvey, with some semblance of confidence.

Gazoo grabbed his nose again, twisted. This time, it hurt.

“You lie badly!” snapped Gazoo. “Tell me the truth!”

“The truth?” gasped Darvey. “The truth is I killed a girl, and you idiots are too blinded to take a confession! What kind of clown ship is this? Do your damn job!”

His nose was let go, and Gazoo stormed out of the room, the door sliding shut behind him. Darvey blinked tears back, trying to see straight as his nose stopped pulsing. A moment later, Gazoo returned.

“We cannot verify your story about the murder, but we have found it warrants investigation by local authorities.”

“Great. Do they execute people there, or do I have to—”

“You will be transferred to the local sheriff for processing. I wish you luck. They have shorter tempers than I.”

Darvey was lifted from his seat by two guards, and they carried him towards the door. Gazoo held them up, staring straight into Darvey’s eyes, and patted his cheek.

“You are the strangest creature I have ever met, Mr Bingo,” he said.

“Look in a mirror sometime,” said Darvey.

“I wish you luck with the Tobor.”

“And I wish you luck with your new nose.”

“What do you mean?”

And with that, Darvey slammed his forehead into Gazoo’s face, felt a crack and a sudden burst of blood, and came back with a grin.

“Shoot me?” he asked, eagerly.

The guards knocked him unconscious instead.

Darvey’s headache again preceded his consciousness by a full minute, this time punctuated by a smell so putrid he nearly vomited the second he woke up. He tried to sit up, but found himself strapped down onto a chair, leaned back at a strange angle, his legs bent beneath him awkwardly.

To his left, a human body was being dragged away by two creatures that reminded him of hyenas walking upright. The body looked devastated: its skin was bubbled and pink, raw, like it had been burned off with acid.

There were two other people in the room with him, and they looked Chinese to him… until the woman caught his eye, and he saw her almost luminescent blue irises. They were impossibly captivating. These must be Centaurians.

Darvey noticed his arms weren’t strapped down well… it would be easy to get free when the time came. The hyena creatures had such different anatomy, this type of trap would keep them, but for humans, it just didn’t do the job.

The man next to him started crying, pulling against the straps, trying to get free. The woman watched him cry, her eyes twisted with fear, saying nothing.

“Ah, welcome,” said one of the hyenas. “I am Rogvarro. You are aboard Tobor ship, on way to nowhere. Say hello to friends while you can. I will be back.”

Rogvarro turned and left the room, and a large, dirty door slid shut behind him. The rest of the bay they were in was just as horrid… it looked as though it might rust through and collapse at any moment. Darvey followed it around until he noticed he was being watched by his fellow prisoners.

“I have to get out of here,” cried the man. “I have to get out of here.”

“Yeah,” said Darvey. “I get that feeling too.”

“I don’t want to be here,” continued the man. “I want to go home again. I want to go home and see my wife and my kids. I want to go HOME!”

“We’ll get there, guy,” said Darvey, looking around the room. “You hang in there.”

“I remember our first time with the gravitational assist. Schwei and me, we… it was such a happy time. I got sick, and she… she…”

He started sobbing. The woman watched him, but said nothing. Darvey motioned to her with his chin.

“How bout you? How’d you get here?”

She looked away for a moment, then made fleeting eye contact.

“I was on vacation with my husband. Hunting wildlife on Europa. The ones with the antlers… what are they called…”

“Deer,” said Darvey, without thinking.

“I suppose,” she said. “And then one night I was kidnapped by the Tobor, brought aboard this ship. I don’t know what they want, but…”

She trailed off, tears in her eyes too. The two of them sat there, whimpering together. Darvey grit his teeth and looked away.

The hyenas — Tobor, he figured — came back in. Three of them, and one with a little gun-shaped device with a long needle out the front. It was loaded with a little vial, shaken briefly.

“This is Hash Prime,” said Rogvarro. “It is new drug for market. But first, we must test.”

“No!” screamed the man. “No! Please no!”

The Tobor spoke quietly to each other for a moment, then nodded, stalked forward, and put the needle into the man’s arm. He thrashed, screamed and cried, but in the end, it made no difference. They pulled back, put their hands on their hips, and watched.

At first, it was like nothing had happened. The man kept crying, kept rolling his head from side to side… but after one pass, his sounds became almost became laughter… and then it seemed the sorrow dissolved completely, and he was cackling madly to himself, as if none of this were happened at all, and he was somewhere else entirely.

Then the laughter took on a crazed edge, and he started gasping for breath, his eyes rolling back in his head. A moment later, hives started appearing all over his face, down his neck and arms. He shrieked, and Darvey flinched as the hives turned to pustules, bursting almost instantly, like they were being boiled through his skin, and soon there was only raw muscle and destroyed tissue around his body.

“Two minutes,” said Rogvarro, checking his handheld. “It is improving.”

The woman was crying as they pulled the man’s body from the chair, dragging out of the room leaving a trail of blood and flesh behind.

Darvey eyed the needle by Rogvarro, the two extra vials left.

A fourth Tobor shuffled in, whispered toward Rogvarro.

“No,” said Rogvarro at full volume. “Is totally unacceptable. We cannot go to market with drug like this. Not street ready.”

“But sir—” said the Tobor.

“No excuse!” snapped Rogvarro. “Try formula again! Is not ready!”

“Sir, if I may try a variant on the current batch, please…”

Rogvarro glanced towards the woman and Darvey, hairy nostrils flaring.

“Do not waste Centaurians,” he warned.

“No sir,” said the Tobor, and started toward the woman with the needle in hand. The woman started crying, turning her head away. Darvey watched the needle, thought of the man, his skin boiling… and he let out a loud shout:

“Hey! Over here! Try me first!”

The Tobor looked towards him, squinted at him, said nothing.

“I’m ready!” Darvey called. “Looks like fun! Let’s get it on, hairball! C’mon!”

The Tobor shifted its jaw, its teeth scraping loudly.

“Soon,” it said to him, and turned back to the woman, putting the needle to her arm.

“Hey morons!” shouted Darvey, straining in his seat. “Are you deaf? I said use me!”

The Tobor looked around again, savage eyes narrowing, and growled.

“You are next, Centaurian,” said Rogvarro. “You may cry like effeminate race you are.”

“Excuse me?” snapped Darvey. “Effeminate? Are you kidding me? Just because you’re covered with fur, doesn’t mean I won’t kick your ass any day of the week!”

“That is big talk for man strapped to table,” smiled Rogvarro. The needle moved away from the woman’s arm, and Darvey kicked it up a notch.

“Unstrap me, and we’ll see who’s all talk.”

Rogvarro sneered at him.

“I would like very much. But we need Centaurians alive, not in pieces.”

“A little too confident, aren’t you?”

“I eat boys like you for breakfast.”

“Is that why you stink like that?”

Rogvarro bared his teeth, leaned in close.

“I will devour your body when you die,” he snarled.

“I hope you choke,” Darvey snarled back. “Now come on, stick me with the needle. Then you get to see a real man die.”

Rogvarro slapped Darvey across the face, held his chin and breathed foul air into his mouth. He put the needle to Darvey’s nose, the cold metal pricking, but not piercing.

“I do what I like, boy.”

“You’re just scared,” Darvey said.

The needle came away, gripped tightly at Rogvarro’s side.

“We will see who is scared.”

Darvey’s hand came out of the straps with no trouble, and he grabbed the needle, spun it around, and stabbed into Rogvarro’s chest. He made a gurgling sound, fell forward, eyes wide with shock. Darvey reached around and snatched the gun off his belt, pulled it free, and turned it around.

The recoil on the needle gun was something fierce, and Darvey felt like his arm was about to collapse on itself. He missed the first Tobor, but shot again and hit it square in the face, blowing it back against the wall in a mess of blood and brain. The second one reached for its weapon too, but too slow. It fell across the woman, and she gasped at the contact.

Darvey felt around the bottom of the chair and found something that seemed like a latch. He pulled and pushed and twisted, but nothing made it move. Rogvarro was moaning, laying across his lap, trying to get up, but in some kind of delirious state.

“Don’t boil on me,” Darvey warned him, and finally got the latch to move. The straps swung off as the door opened, and three more Tobor raced in, guns ready.

Darvey grabbed Rogvarro, pulled him up, and shoved him at the attackers with all his strength. One of them shot to protect himself, but the rest fell back into the wall, where they were easy targets for Darvey’s blasts. He ducked around a corner, let the last Tobor return fire, and then arced around, low, and caught the enemy in the leg with a careful blast. The Tobor’s ankle shattered, and it fell forward, crashing into the floor.

“Drop it,” Darvey said, gun aimed at the Tobor’s head.

The Tobor scraped its arm up to shoot, but only made it halfway before another shot ended its life.

“Stupid hyenas,” Darvey grumbled, kicking the other corpses over, finding no survivors. “Learn to listen, and you’ll have better lives.”

He made his way out into the hall, gun ready for anything, and found the only other room totally deserted, but for a pile of three Centaurian bodies in a pile in the corner. The cockpit was empty, and there were no more doors to exit. He stowed the weapon and slipped back into the room with the woman.

“Sorry about that,” he said, undoing her latch. “Ideally, I’d have let them kill me, but they didn’t seem to be the cooperative type.”

He lifted the straps off the woman, helped her to her feet. She seemed shocked by all the carnage around them, kept looking at the blood, the bodies.

“Are you okay?” he asked her, and she glanced at him. Her face changed from shock to anger, and before he could react, she decked him.

Darvey woke up to the sight of Aphid leaning over him, her giant eyes shimmering in the dim light of the Thomas Derra’s cafeteria. He blinked at her, winced, put a hand to his eye where he’d been hit.

“He’s still alive,” she said.

“Yes!” laughed Kaps. “That’s m’boy!”

Darvey sat up slowly, looking around the room. Lucas was missing, but in his place was the woman from the Tobor ship. She was standing in the corner with a blanket around her shoulders, drinking a cup of sludge. She didn’t look scared anymore. She looked angry.

“How’s she doing?” Darvey asked Aphid, motioned towards the woman. “She’s okay?”

“Er,” said Aphid. “She’s… um…”

The woman caught his stare and stormed over. He flinched back, but she caught him by the collar, shook him.

“You IDIOT!” she yelled. “Do you how long it took to set up that operation?”

“That… which?” Darvey said, uncertain.

“Darvey, this is Jyi Kz-Chen. She’s in charge here.”

Darvey’s face dropped.

“Oops.”

“Yes, OOPS! That was six months of work you just ruined! What kind of idiot are you?”

“The human kind,” suggested Kaps.

“It’s not my fault they kidnapped me!” snapped Darvey. “I was trying to protect you!”

“Next time, ask first!” Jyi snapped, and paced away to get more sludge. “It took me months to get that kind of access. We were so close to finding out where they’re getting their drugs from. I just needed another few days, and you ruined the whole plan!”

“What kind of stupid-ass plan was it?”

“We’re saving innocent lives!” she yelled.

“You were going to get killed!”

“We had someone on the inside!” she said, her voice getting quiet. She stared into her cup, blue eyes turning away from him. “Rogzarro was a horizon predator.”

Darvey blinked.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Horizon predator. He was one of us.”

Darvey looked to Aphid.

“These translators suck,” he said.

“They’ve been kidnapping Centaurians all across the galaxy, and we didn’t know why. If we can find out who’s in charge of this operation, we can shut them down and save so many people it’s… I just can’t believe it’s all over…”

“But if he gave you that injection—”

“It was nothing. It was saline. We wanted them to think they’d found the right mixture, so they’d tell their bosses. All I had to do is act stoned, and we’d be where we wanted to be. Now we’re nowhere. We’re nowhere, and it’s all your fault.”

Darvey’s headache was worse than ever. He rubbed his temple, got off the table and walked away from Jyi and the rest. He paused at the door, didn’t turn.

“Next time you need saving, count me out. I forgot why I wanted to off myself: people are pricks. Good night.”

He slipped out, back into his quarters, closed the door behind him and jumped with surprise at the sight of Lucas sitting on his bed.

“Jesus!” he gasped. “Don’t do that!”

“I am sorry,” said Lucas. “I have been waiting for you.”

“I noticed,” Darvey said. “I’m taking a nap. Make it quick.”

Lucas didn’t move, kept his hands folded on his lap, and tilted his head ever so slightly to the right. He looked inhuman. More inhuman than he ought to.

“I am curious about human suicide rituals,” said Lucas.

“Oh great,” sighed Darvey.

“In particular,” said Lucas, “I would like to know if all humans engage in dangerous heroics when they are on the verge of death. I do not have enough points of reference to draw a conclusion.”

“No,” said Darvey. “No, that was just a moment of weakness for me. Won’t happen again. Especially not with Jyi.”

“Ah,” said Lucas. “That seems logical.”

He stood very gracefully, walked to the door without deviating from a careful pace. Darvey watched him go, a smile breaking across his bruised face.

“Are you some kind of robot?” he asked.

Lucas paused, turned halfway. He seemed to think for a moment, then turned his head to the other side.

“In a manner of speak, yes,” he said. “I am an ascendant being. This body is a physical vessel used to interact with lesser species.”

“Like me,” Darvey said.

“Like ninety-nine percent of the known universe.”

“Well, gee.”

“Thank you for your time. I wish you well in your suicide rituals.”

Lucas’ hand was on the door when Darvey called him back.

“Hey!” he said. “What’s it like out here? In space, I mean. Is it as crappy a place as it seems?”

Lucas considered the question.

“Crappy is a peculiar choice. But if I understand your meaning, then yes, space is quite crappy. There are many unhappy citizens considering suicide at this very moment. I could provide statistics if you—”

“That’s all right, thanks.”

“But if I may… human suicide rituals are particularly interesting to me. Kaps and Aphid both suspect Gordito committed suicide when he was shot last month, but I am unconvinced. It does not fit the profile.”

“What kind of profile is that?” Darvey asked, sitting on his bed and putting his head in his hands.

“Human suicide always follows a particular pattern. For instance, in many Earth cultures, digesting a Bung nut is a popular way to end one’s life.”

“What cultures are those?” Darvey asked.

“Danish, British, Malaysian, Bel—”

“I think you’ve got your facts wrong.”

Lucas’ eyes grew a little bigger.

“Indeed? Could you help correct them?”

Darvey shrugged.

“My head’s kinda hurting right now. How about in the morning. Assuming I don’t off myself before then. I’ll tell you everything I know about Denmark.”

Lucas nodded

“Your head is in distress. Your eyes are bloodshot.”

“Thanks for noticing.”

“How do you exist with such ailments?” asked Lucas.

“Back home, I have medicine to take care of it. Out here? I’ve just gotta back on the old favourite: praying for death. And by the way, it works better alone.”

Lucas nodded, stepped back to the door again.

“I understand,” he said. “However, if you are interested in some medicine, I can use the onboard synthesizer to create simple chemical compounds.”

“How simple?” Darvey asked, looking up.

“What would help you?”

Darvey thought back to his science class from high school, with all the chemical compounds and hydrogen and carbon and… if he got it wrong, he’d end up dead. Win/win, in the end.

“I need C2H6O, if you can,” he said. “Does that make sense?”

Lucas thought again, then nodded.

“That will be dangerous for you. Shall I dilute it?”

Darvey shrugged.

“Go for it.”

Lucas tapped some buttons on a screen by the door, and a moment later, a small slot opened just above the table, revealing a tall glass of clear liquid. Lucas handed it over, and Darvey sniffed it carefully.

“Bottoms up,” he said, and gulped down half the glass at once.

He coughed after swallowing, gasped for breath, but knew he wouldn’t die. It was putrid ethanol, but it did the trick. His headache vanished, and the room started swimming quite nicely.

“That’s good stuff,” he slurred. “Thank, robo-boy.”

“You are very welcome, Mr Darvey. Good night.”

Lucas let himself out of the room, and Darvey leaned back in his bunk, nursing the rest of the glass until the room blurred out of focus and he fell asleep. He dreamed of the girl on her bike, riding in circles around him, before being swept away by a flood or Orangina. he woke up with a start.

The room was dark, and he fumbled around to find the light switch. When he finally hit it, the beam blinded him, and for a second, he didn’t notice his dead wife sitting at the desk, staring at him serenely.

Lisa sat there with her hands folded on her lap, serene, just like she’d always been in life. Darvey reached a hand out towards her, but stopped short, hand grasping at the air in front of her.

“Hey,” he said softly. “You’re… you look good.”

“Thank you,” she said. “You too.”

“How’ve you been?” he asked.

“Not too bad,” she said. “Being dead isn’t as bad as it seems.”

“That’s good to know,” he said. “So you’re keeping busy?”

“Hunting robotic vermin,” she said with a smile. “You?”

Darvey shifted.

“Um… you know. Trying to get killed.”

“That girl wasn’t your fault,” she said. “You know that, deep in your heart. You know it was an accident.”

He sighed, shook his head.

“No I don’t,” he said. “I don’t think anyone thinks that.”

“I do,” she said.

“Well, you’re dead, so…”

She reached out, touched his hand. Her skin was warm, soft, alive. He looked into her eyes, her beautiful brown eyes, and touched her cheek.

“I miss you,” he whispered.

“I’m right here,” she said. “There’s nothing to miss.”

“You know what I mean. What happens when you go off hunting your robotic vermin?”

Her eyes shifted quickly, like the thought of robotic vermin distracted her greatly. She brought back her smile, squeezed his hand.

“I’m here for you, always,” she said.

She leaned forward, and he closed his eyes to kiss her… and a moment later, the lights came on as Jyi burst through the door, face contorted with anger.

“You!” she yelled. “What in the hell are you doing?”

“I’m… I’m dreaming?”

“You were going to kiss her, weren’t you?” Jyi said, shoving him back against the wall. “I could see it. Do you have any idea what kind of…”

She snarled, kicked the desk.

“How do you know what I was doing…?” he asked.

“I read the air. There was something too real about your dream state, so I figured…”

“Wait, you ‘read the air’? What does that mean? Is that like telepathy or something?”

Jyi shook her head, started for the door, but then turned back. She put a tense hand on the wall and leaned there, glowering.

“Centaurians are a lot like humans, but whereas your brains are weak and sheltered, ours broadcast within a short distance. Like unshielded radiation.”

“So you’ll give me cancer,” Darvey said.

“No, but it means I can pick up on your more basic emotive states, like when you’re having a nervous breakdown on my goddamn ship!”

“Hey, I didn’t ask for it to happen! Maybe it’s your brain-cooker doing it!”

“Well OF COURSE it’s my amplification, you idiot!”

“So stop blaming me!”

“I’m not blaming you, I’m blaming THAT!”

She pointed at the glass on the floor by his bed. He looked down at it, then back up at her. He tried his best not to look sheepish, to give her that satisfaction.

“It’s water,” he lied.

“You’re lying.”

“You can see that?”

“I don’t need to, you’re too pathetic to be good at it.” She picked up the glass, dropped it in a chute in the desk, and looked back to Darvey. The sadness at losing Lisa again started to drown him, and he wished he knew how to call for another glass of ethanol.

“I’m getting another human,” Jyi snapped. “This isn’t going to work. It’s one thing if you die quickly, but I can’t risk my team over someone with an unstable psyche.”

Darvey held his breath, trying to contain himself. He’d been chewed out before, but somehow this was just one insult too many in a long day of insults. He wanted to say something, but he knew none of the words he had would do. He exhaled slowly, a rattled breath making his hands tremble.

“You can go back to your life,” she said. “Do whatever you want. Just get off my ship.”

“No!” he gasped. “No, come on. It’s not that bad, I—”

“Not that bad? Six months, down the drain. There’s a drug problem out there so bad, it costs us hundreds of trillions of credits every year just to police it. We’ve got kidnappings, that girl Eshilia to find, and I can’t take the time to find her because you’re too busy getting drunk, doing the naughty with ghosts!”

Darvey fought back tears he couldn’t explain, retreated further into the corner, into the darkness, as Jyi loomed over him like a mountain of fury.

“I wish they’d given you a loaded gun when you got here. Saved us all some time.”

The wall buzzed, and Jyi slammed her finger down on a button.

“What?” she barked.

“Hey,” said Kaps. “Just got back from Helena H10. Picked up a pusher with a history of dealing Tobor merch. Figure he could shed some light. He’s in the interrogation room. You wanna join?”

Jyi narrowed her eyes, glared at Darvey. He whimpered.

“I’ll be right there,” she said, and headed for the hall.

The second she left, Darvey’s mood shifted, and the despair and depression evaporated. He slumped back into his bed, like a crushing weight had shifted away, and stared at the ceiling for a minute.

“Holy crap,” he gasped. “That’s gotta be awesome in interrogations.”

He raced out the door, hoping to catch some of the show.

Darvey found the interrogation room as Jyi was sitting down across from the alien, a short creature with four glassy black eyes and tentacles for arms. A full-wall screen showed him what was going on inside, and it was clear from the alien’s expression that not a lot was going on at all.

“How’s it going?” he asked Aphid.

“He’s not talking, but it’s still early.”

“He doesn’t look too upset,” Darvey said, nodding to Lucas as he arrived, checking a data pad. “Why doesn’t she do that amplification trick?”

“Psyche amplification is strictly prohibited by the CSA,” said Lucas. “It is often equated with torture, and immediately disqualifies any resulting testimony from trial. Jyi is well aware of this restriction.”

Darvey nodded broadly.

“Wow,” he said. “So she can’t be herself in there?”

“Nope,” said Aphid. “Last time she lost control, they almost fired her. Really messy. She’s very touchy about it.”

“She has special dispensation from the CSA Board to practice law enforcement,” said Lucas. “One of my functions aboard the Thomas Derra is to ensure she meets the requirements of that dispensation.”

“So you’re Internal Affairs?” Darvey asked, taking a step back.

“No,” said Lucas. “I am an impartial observer.”

Darvey nodded uneasily, went back to watching the interrogation.

“I’m asking about Tobor freighters,” said Jyi, “and you’re telling me about Zanzi pleasure cruises.”

“I dunno bout Tobor freighters,” said the alien. “Howzabout you ask someone who DO, and leave me be?”

“How about you answer my question!” she yelled, slamming her fist into the table right next to his hand.

“I don’t recall a question,” he said smoothly.

She leaned in close.

“Don’t make me angry,” she said.

“Or what?” he purred. “You’re gonna brain wipe me? Come on, princess, we both know that ain’t in the cards.”

“Just tell me where the Tobor dock their ships, and I’ll be able to cut you a deal.”

“What kinda deal?” he said, his eyes twinkling.

“A reduced sentence for trafficking—”

“Full immunity,” he said.

“I can discuss—”

“And relocation to Ydora 3,” he beamed.

“You wouldn’t fit in there,” Jyi said. “And there’s no way the CSA will pay for—”

“All or nothin’, princess. Think fast.”

She stared at him, jaw clenched.

“Give me something first,” she said.

“Something small?”

“Something I can verify,” she said.

He looked at the ceiling, stroked his face with his tentacle, and then looked back, a wide smile on his face.

“Helena H5, second moon. Check the spaceport registries.”

“For what?” she asked.

“You’ll know it when you see it.”

She got up, marched to the door, and slammed it so hard the alien flinched… his first genuine emotion the entire time. Jyi stormed past Darvey, taking Lucas by the arm into a huddle. Aphid watched the suspect through the screen, cocking her head side to side as he sat there, watching him lounge about in comfortable isolation.

Jyi and Lucas disappeared further down the hall, their discussion getting more heated. Darvey looked at the door to the room, and without thinking, pushed his way in.

The alien sat up straight at the intrusion, skidded back when Darvey pushed the table against the door, blocking it. He rolled up his sleeves, cricked his neck, and smiled.

“Hi there,” he said. “I’m Detective Darvey. Why’d you lie to my partner?”

The alien glanced left and right, blinking fast.

“Lie?” he ventured. “I didn’t l—”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Darvey, striding forward. “You ever heard of ‘good cop, bad cop’?”

“N-n-no,” said the alien.

“This is it. My partner? She was the good cop. Me? I’m the BAD one.”

The alien said nothing. Darvey leaned over him, squinting.

“You need all those eyes to see?”

The alien shrunk back.

“Why?” he whimpered.

“Just askin’.”

“You can’t hurt me,” said the alien. “I know my rights. You can’t hurt me.”

“I’m not going to hurt you,” smiled Darvey. “But I have to warn you… if you don’t start telling me the truth soon, I’m going to have to take off my left sock.”

The alien looked left and right urgently, as if someone might come to save him.

“What do you mean?” he hissed.

“What? You don’t know?”

He pulled up his pant leg, showed his red sock. He dropped it again, grinned.

“Might be a cultural thing. Where I come from, red socks and tickling… they just don’t go well together. Lethal combination.”

“Tickling?” the alien cried.

“Must be the translator,” Darvey shrugged. “Let me put it this way: we’re going to need a big bucket and a mop to clean up the blood.”

The alien pushed the chair back into the wall, curling its tentacles around itself like a shield.

“You’re using amplification on me!” it shouted. “That’s… that’s illegal! You can’t DO that!”

Darvey held his ground, arms crossed.

“I know,” he said. “That’s why I blocked the door.”

The alien started making a weeping noise, like a baby being squeezed slowly. Darvey took a step back, and the crying got louder.

“Zip it!” Darvey snapped. “Tell me what I want, or I’m going to scrape your ickthid so bad, you’ll be limping for weeks!”

“W-w-what’s an ICKTHID?” cried the alien.

Darvey leaned forward, smiled.

“Oh, you’ll find out.”

“No!” screamed the alien. “Please! Please I want my lawyer now! I wanna lawyer! Please!”

The door rattled, and Darvey heard urgent voices from behind. Jyi’s voice boomed loudly through the metal. He could feel her getting angry.

“Lawyers can’t help you now, moron. They don’t have jurisdiction over the kidnapping of the Governor’s daughter. That’s way above their pay grade.”

“The Governor’s what?” pleaded the alien. “No, I dunno nothing about that! Is swear I don’t! Come on, you gotta believe me!”

Darvey cricked his neck.

“Give me something TO believe,” he said.

The alien started to get out of his chair, but quickly corrected himself, backing down slowly.

“Tobor freighters!” he said. “They dock down at Terminal B. Helena H10, Terminal B. Come on, you’ve gotta believe me!”

Darvey squinted towards the alien, trying to look like he was focussing his mental powers, and the poor wretch screamed in agony, covered his head with his tentacles.

“Alright,” Darvey said. “We’ll check it out. But if they’re not where you say they are, your ickthid is mine, you understand?”

“Y-y-yes sir,” the alien cried. “Thank you, sir!”

Darvey pushed the table out of the way and walked into a field of fury. He could feel it in his teeth.

“That was very foolish,” said Lucas, angry without looking it. “I do not know how to report what I have witnessed.”

Jyi shoved Darvey against the wall with her arm, pinning his neck and pushing hard. Every time she blinked, his eyes watered.

“You’re a damn fool,” she snapped. “You crossed the line, and now the whole case has gone to hell.”

“Case?” Darvey laughed. “What case? All you had was a lie!”

“And what you have is inadmissible evidence! Nothing he said under duress is going to count in court! What kind of backward justice system do they have on your backwater planet?”

“A pretty good one, actually,” snapped Darvey. “I wasn’t ASKING about Tobor freighters. I wasn’t threatening to get that information at all. I was asking about a kidnapping, and he volunteered the spaceport all by himself.”

“You know that won’t work,” Jyi snarled.

“Then it’s YOU who has the screwed up justice system,” he said.

Aphid peeked around the corner, twitching her head.

“If he’s telling the truth, and the freighters really do work out of Terminal B… I think we can get a beacon onboard, and maybe trace them all the way back to their home base.”

Jyi looked over, and Darvey gasped as the pain subsided in his brain.

“We can do that?” she asked. “You’re sure?”

“We’ve never had the chance before, but when it’s at the spaceport, we have the best shot,” Aphid said.

Jyi glared at Darvey, pushed his neck a bit harder.

“Fine,” she said. “We’ll try it your way.”

Lucas pushed the buzzer at Jyi’s door four times before she answered. He was not affected by her amplification, but he could feel it in the air. It was quite intense.

“I can’t BELIEVE this,” she said, unpacking her gun, placing the pieces across her desk. “If we lose the Tobor AGAIN because of his stupid childish tricks, I’m going to gut him myself!”

Lucas said nothing for a moment, then nodded serenely.

“You look upset,” he said.

She glared at him.

“Data indicates that a refreshing beverage can help alleviate stress and other psychological ailments. Most notable, the power drink known as ‘Anna’s Brain Fluids.’ Would you like a glass?”

“Do I look like I want brain fluids?” she snapped.

“I am sure they are not really brain fl—”

“No I don’t want a drink!” she yelled. “I want him off my ship!”

“That will not be possible at this—”

“Court martial him! You can do that! He’s broken more rules than anyone I’ve ever seen! And I’ve seen a lot!”

“I have been conferring with my colleagues on the matter these last few minutes, and it appears the law in this area… non-threatening… is not fully developed at this time. We are studying case law that may apply, to judge a course of action over—”

“Unconventional tactics are dangerous and stupid,” Jyi said, pushing the gun away from herself, holding her hands tightly.

Lucas said nothing again, blinked twice.

“Were you able to acquire the antidote as planned?” he asked. “It was not in your report.”

Jyi stared at her hands. When let go, her left one trembled ever so slightly. She made a fist, squeezed it tight.

“No,” she said. “It wasn’t there. My contact was supposed to help me find it, but now he’s dead. So I’m stuck.”

Lucas nodded.

“Have you heard from Reesan?” he asked. “Is his infection at a similar stage?”

Jyi shook her head, reached across and pulled the gun closer again.

“Reesan died last week,” she said. “Couldn’t hold his own in a firefight, got shot in the face.”

“That is unfortunate,” said Lucas. “He was a good agent.”

“He was,” Jyi nodded. “He was way too good to get caught in a trap like that. Taking drugs in the field. He was better than that.”

“You did the same,” Lucas said gently.

“I’m not that good yet,” she said. “And at this rate, maybe not ever.” She pounded her hand into the desk, held it up again.

“May I?” asked Lucas.

She stared at him for a second, then held out her palm for him to see. Her skin was turning purple, streaks running through her veins, and the skin looked sickly, stretched and diseased. She took it back, slid on her glove.

“I am afraid I must remove you from the team, Jyi,” he said. “Kaps will be in charge as of—”

“Wait!” she said, grabbing his arm. “Lucas, please! I can fix this. I just need more time! If Kaps is in charge, finding that antidote is a low priority and—”

“It SHOULD be a low priority,” said Lucas sternly. “Personal matters are no the business of the CSA.”

“The CSA is what got me like this in the first place!” she said.

“That may be so,” he said, “which is why I am allowing you such latitude… but it cannot continue indefinitely.”

She nodded.

“Give me a timeframe,” she said.

“Nineteen hours,” he said.

“Nineteen,” she repeated, quietly.

Lucas stepped back, looked out the door, and then back.

“I must file my report at that time. You have until then to fix yourself.”

Darvey found Aphid in the store room, checking crates of weapons. She barely acknowledged his entrance, and kept moving things around, but it was clear she wasn’t working anymore. He stood next to her, staring in the opposite direction, and talked softly.

“I need to go with Jyi,” he said.

She stopped working entirely.

“I can’t let you do that,” he said. “You’re not qualified, you’re not certified, you’re not—”

“I know,” he said. “But I need to go with her.”

“You’re going to get yourself killed,” she said.

He leaned closer, whispered.

“Exactly.”

She clicked a few times, looked away. It was odd, talking to a giant insect. The behaviours were so foreign, but the body language still spoke volumes.

“I suppose I can make the case,” she said. She checked a rifle, turning it on and off a few times. “You’re an odd one, Darvey.”

“Said the giant insect,” he grinned.

“Why do you want to die so badly?” she asked. “It is not in your file.”

“Has EVERYONE read my file?”

“Kaps didn’t,” she said. “But I don’t know if Kaps can read.”

Darvey laughed, took one of the rifles out of the crate, but Aphid snatched it away, smacked his hand like she was scolding a child.

“I don’t understand bipedal culture,” she said. “Where I’m from, we’ll kill ourselves for love, but you don’t seem to be mating right now, are you?”

The way the sentence trailed off made Darvey very uneasy.

“No,” he said. “It’s not for love. It’s punishment.”

“For what?” she asked.

“Something I did wrong,” he said, wincing at the memory.

“It must have been terrible for you,” she said.

“No. Not terrible enough. Not yet, anyway. I’m getting there.”

“That’s good.”

Darvey said nothing.

Aphid closed the crate, tapped a data pad, and bustled across the bay to another set of crates. This one had food packets in it, and it was increasingly clear she was trying to avoid real work.

“How do you like the translator?” she asked. “I’ve made some adjustments since the last version we deployed in humans. It has a better learning mechanism.”

Darvey averted his gaze, cleared his throat.

“It’s… uh… it’s doing great,” he said. “Some names are a bit strange, but…”

“It’s a limit in the software,” she said. “All species get one free language input, and from what I understand, your species chose Cantonese when they joined the CSA.”

“Figures,” he said.

“We’ve been adding support for other tongues as we go, but there doesn’t seem to be a solid translation architecture within your species at all. For instance, what is ‘pyriah’?”

Darvey scratched his head.

“Uh… I don’t know.”

“That one has caused me no end of frustration. Your dictionaries are all insufficient. The whole dataset is very piecemeal.”

“Welcome to Earth,” he said with a smile.

“Yes please,” she replied, some bounce in her voice. “I would like to visit some day. When do you think your species will be ready to accept us?”

Darvey winced, shrugged.

“Not anytime soon, I’m afraid. We’ve got enough problems with each other. Someone like you… I don’t know that many people would really want to talk to you.”

“YOU want to talk to me.”

“No, I DO talk to you. And also I want to blow my brains out.”

“You are an odd one,” she said. She closed the case, brought Darvey over to a rack of space suits, complete with slim helmets and utility belts that would make Batman weep with envy.

“The planet you’re going to has an atmosphere you will difficult,” she said. “Have you worn a suit before?”

“Not like this,” he said.

“Are you used to alternate gravities?”

“Um… no.”

She nodded, clicked some more.

“The sun you’ll be experiencing looks like this,” she said, tapping her data pad. She showed it to him, but all he saw was a black screen.

“There’s nothing there,” he said.

She looked down, then laughed, tapped a button on the side.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I forget you can’t see that spectrum.”

The sun in the picture was an odd colour… like ginger muffin orange. Just seeing it made Darvey hungry, but he refused to let himself be hungry. He didn’t deserve that satisfaction.

“The atmosphere on the planet is so weak and the sun is so strong that species such as yours will burn very quickly.”

“Like what, a sunburn?”

“Crispy. Cooked.”

“Oh.”

“This suit will protect you, and it will also provide you nice cover, because no one will know you’re a human. To most people, you will appear to be a standard biped of no distinction. It will make your job much easier.”

She was looking him up and down, slowly, clicking again.

“Gordito ripped his suit, burned himself under his left knee,” she said, quieter, huskier. “He was quite ashamed of it. I almost never got to see it.”

“Ah,” said Darvey, noticing how close they were.

“I thought it was cute,” she said.

He smiled nervously.

She pulled a little round disc from the shelf, showed it to him. He took it in his hand, turning it over. It obviously wasn’t a weapon.

“This is the tracer you’ll put on the ship. Anywhere is good. The signal will be strong enough to follow from quite a distance.”

“Won’t they find it? Aren’t there… I don’t know… scanners or something? Security?”

She clicked again, eased in closer to him. He was pinned against the rack of suits, her mandibles so close to his face.

“Scanners are inefficient,” she said softly. “At a spaceport, so many people are coming and going… they might scan occasionally, but once they’re off the ground, it’s a waste… of… resources to scan any more.”

He nodded, laughed.

“How about us? When was the last time we scanned the Thomas Derra?”

She leaned closer, whispering.

“Would you like me to check now?” she said.

“Uh… sure.”

With one of her arms, she flipped on the data pad, tapped a few screens, and tilted it for him to see. He saw what looked like a protozoa in shape, glowing green against the black background.

One of Aphid’s arms touched his waist.

“Thanks,” he said, pushing the data pad away.

“Can I tell you a secret?” she said.

“I guess so,” he muttered.

“Bipeds turn me on.”

“That’s… that’s good to know.”

“You have two legs,” she said.

“Yes,” he nodded.

“Do you like six?”

“Um… you know what? I’ve never thought about it.”

She stroked his chest with her arm.

“I have experience,” she said. “With Kaps. Last year. Right here, in the hangar. It was… exciting. But not very satisfying, so I would like to try again.”

Darvey bit his lower lip, trying to think of a nice way to get out of the situation. None of the options were especially graceful.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m in a long-term relationship right now.”

“But you want to kill yourself.”

“Relatively long-term.”

“I wouldn’t tell anyone.”

“That’s really… that’s okay.”

She paused, watched him for another second, the clicked to herself, and stood back.

“I understand,” she said. “I need to work on my pheromones. I’ll get back to you, and we’ll try again.”

“No, really—”

“Would you mind giving me pointers on technique? I captured video of my encounter with Kaps, and I—”

A buzzing came from the walls, and Lucas’ voice echoed through the room.

“We are approaching the atmosphere. Prepare to disembark.”

Aphid tapped the wall and the whole thing became a screen, showing the view out the front of the ship. The giant, red planet loomed below, and off in the distance, two small planetoids were in mid-collision, throwing debris through the darkness of space, catching the sun and making for the most awe-inspiring moment of Darvey’s life.

“Isn’t it romantic?” sighed Aphid.

Terminal 2 the size of Los Angeles, with a complex set of tube-like trains set up to shuttle passengers from place to another. None of the signage made any sense at all, and Darvey had to be lead by the hand by Jyi several times as the traffic laws threw him off-balance. Stop means go, go means pause, pause means jump. It was the most alien thing about the aliens.

The sun was blazing hot, but the suit didn’t do much to help with the heat. Darvey kept trying to scratch under his arms, where sweat was pouring down his sides mercilessly, but to no avail. When he made the motion for the fifteenth time, Jyi smacked his hand away.

“Stop it!” she snapped. “Just stop it!”

“It’s damn hot,” he complained. “I want to die, but not like this.”

“No more speaking until we’re there,” she said, and got on a ramp that carried them up to the second level of the complex.

Off to his right, a creature with no definite body was waving a beam of light in the face of what looked like an elephant-sized monster potato with horns. Darvey tapped Jyi on the shoulder, pointed.

“What’s that?” he asked.

She glanced over, went back to her business.

“A Qtsoliqnar,” she said. “The little one is taming it.”

“It doesn’t look too excitable,” he said, and a moment later, the Qtsoliqnar split in half, revealing a giant toothed mouth, and ate a smaller passer-by. Darvey blinked at it, then joined Jyi in ignoring his surroundings.

Customs was just as much of a nightmare at Terminal 2 as it was back home on Earth. He and Jyi were saved from a strip search, but were asked to identify every microbe they carried on their suits, as if they’d bought them, as if they knew what they were. In the end, Darvey asked if they could just disinfect him, kill all the microbes instead of cataloguing them. The officials seemed genuinely excited at the idea, and did it three times.

Jyi was not impressed with the delay.

A restaurant outside the security area flashed a sign in languages Darvey couldn’t read, but as aliens passed by, they scooped food from a trough along the front. Occasionally, one found something he liked, and dove inside for more. It was hard to make out from a distance, but it looked like kettle corn. Except it squealed as it was chewed.

Darvey was so distracted by the sounds that he nearly walked into a giant purple cow, sitting in the middle of the sidewalk. It chewed some grass, its yellow eyes flittering open and shut, and levitated off the ground.

“A magic cow,” said Darvey. “Crazy.”

The cow’s handler arrived, adjusted a pad on the animal’s back, and dragged it off to a nearby hangar. Darvey waved to the cow as it went.

“Bye, magic cow,” he said. “Good luck.”

“Dammit,” grumbled Jyi, checking her pad again. “The warrant’s not in.”

“How far away are we?” Darvey asked.

“It’s right here,” she said.

“So we’re going in?”

She stopped put her hands on her hips and turned on him.

“No,” she said. “We are NOT just going in. We have RULES, and the rules say we need to wait for our warrant before we can board the ship. The closest we can get is the hangar.”

“Sure,” said Darvey. “Do whatever you want. I’m just here to get killed.”

“Good,” she said. “Do it when the mission’s done.”

“Yes ma’am,” he saluted.

The cargo bay was largely empty, but for a small ship with red markings and its cargo bay door open, a ramp dropping down into the sand. Creatures with lizard-like heads were milling around, smoking long tubes that glowed green with fire. Darvey had to be pulled down by Jyi to keep from blowing their cover.

“So are you still hallucinating?” she asked in a hushed voice, checking her gun and the tracer beacon.

“No,” replied Darvey. “Or, well, I don’t know. After that cow, it’s hard to tell if any of this is real.”

“Oh, it’s real all right.”

“I’m not in Kansas anymore.”

“I don’t know Kansas.”

“Neither do I. It’s an expression.”

“Then shut up.”

“Right,” he said, and kicked some sand around. He looked back at the creatures with their strange pipes, saw the rifles on their backs. There were a lot of them, and one of him, and if he could just—

“Don’t,” said Jyi.

“Don’t what?”

“I can tell what you’re thinking, and I’m saying DON’T. You can die when I’m done, not before.”

“I could be a good distraction,” he said.

“If you’re as good a distraction as you are a cop, then no, no you wouldn’t be. So just stay put. I don’t want any more trouble out of you.”

Darvey shrugged, sat down again.

“I make no promises,” he said. “I go where the wind takes me.”

A loud roar from behind shook the sand off Darvey’s boots, and he looked around to see a gritty ship lurch into the bay, touching down next to the smaller vessel. The pipe-smokers rushed around, in and out of their ship, pulling crates to and fro.

The door to the bigger ship creaked open, and Darvey grumbled at the sight of five gritty hyenas lumbering out. They touched the faces of the littler creatures — like a very strange handshake — and began doing business.

“It’s all ready,” said the lead Tobor. “Are you ready on your end?”

“Absotively,” said the little creature. “Ready as we’ll ever be. Good doing business with you.”

“That remains to be seen,” said the Tobor.

“Did you see the match last night?” asked the little one, hopping along beside the Tobor as it walked. “371-0. Such a great match. SUCH a great match. Best one of the year, I’d say. I was really blown away by—”

“We are on a schedule,” said the Tobor, and motioned to his followers, who shuffled into place with several large crates. “Have your men show mine where to leave these, and we will be on our way.”

The little creature didn’t miss a beat.

“Yeah, yeah, absolutely,” said the little one. “Sure thing. They’re on it. We’re on it. All good. All good for sure.”

The Tobor stopped, looked directly towards Darvey and Jyi, scratched its ear.

“The Hash Prime is ready for distribution offworld,” it said. “Stick to your guidelines and you will be well compensated. Deviate, and… things will be uncomfortable for you.”

“Gotcha,” said the little one. “Offworld, guidelines, check. Check and check.”

Darvey nudged Jyi.

“That’s the stuff from before… the boiling stuff!”

“Yes it is,” she said.

“You can’t… I mean… we can’t let them DISTRIBUTE that… that’s like genocide!”

Jyi just nodded, kept watching.

“We can’t let that happen. We need to stop them before they massacre—”

“Listen,” Jyi said, grabbing his neck. “Shut up and listen. They’re going to be done before the warrant comes through. I NEED to trace that Tobor ship. So I’m going in.”

“I’m coming—”

“No you’re not. You’re going to count to thirty, and you’re going to make a distraction.”

“Really?” Darvey said, hope returning to him for the first time in days.

“Yes. Have fun dying.”

“Thanks!” he said. “Have fun maybe dying.”

She took off down the slope, out of sight, and Darvey watched the ships some more. He was counting to thirty as quickly as he could manage, watching a small lizard-like bird swooping around the roof of the complex.

“… twenty-two… twenty-three…”

The bird collided with a laser-shielding net, burst into flames, and landed on top of the Tobor ship. Everyone on the ground watched it burning, guns ready.

“Stupid bird, stealing my gig,” he grumbled, then realized he’d lost count, and called it even.

“Here we go…” he said, and stood up. No one was looking at him, so it was somewhat anti-climactic. But as he looked down at the ships, he saw the cargo being loaded, the Tobor ship emptying itself of its deadly payload, and he couldn’t stand it. He ducked back down and eased down the hill, back around the smaller ship, until he was right in the thick of things.

One of the small aliens was near by, smoking his pipe again. Darvey reached over, grabbed its rifle and pulled it close. It let out a little squeal before he punched it in the face. Or its face-like area. His hand came back gooey and blue, and the alien looked dead.

“Sorry,” he said, and then pulled out his gun and aimed at the next-closest alien.

“Hey!” he shouted. “Look lively!”

He pulled the trigger, and absolutely nothing happened. He checked the gun, shook it, tried again.

“Goddamn Jyi,” he cursed, and then ran for cover as the aliens started firing at him. Random cargo exploded around him, and he kept low to the ground, covering his head and crawling for shelter.

“Easier to just die,” he muttered. “Me and my overdeveloped sense of duty…”

A loud thoom shook the hangar as the smaller ship lifted off, and a moment later, the Tobor ship joined it, swaying in the air briefly before opening a hatch in the bottom. Darvey looked up at it, squinting to see through his helmet.

A small canister dropped out and bounced in the sand.

Its red light flashed rapidly, and then made a loud beeping sound.

“Shit,” said Darvey, and the grenade exploded.

The room shifted before Jyi could get her footing, and she slammed into the back wall, cracking her head on a rusted crossbeam. The Tobor ship swayed again, and then turned sharply, taking off into the atmosphere, and she slid backwards, down towards the hatch, barely catching hold of a cargo net.

A minute later, the ship breached the atmosphere, artificial gravity took over, and she fell back to her feet. She was bleeding from her scalp, but it was a trickle. She wiped it off her forehead and moved on.

She pulled the tracer from her pouch, and gasped at the feeling of rough metal, dented flat. She tried turning it on, but the contacts wouldn’t meet, and the slightest motion made it rattle noisily. She dropped it in the nearest container, let it drop down to the bottom.

“Time for plan B,” she said, looking around.

The cargo bay was half-empty after the transfer, but still filled with trunks and containers of all different shapes and sizes. She peeked into one of the closer ones, found a giant cache of Vain — a nasty drug that stunted visual stimuli until everyone around you look sexy — the little yellow pills accented with the zig-zag markings of the Westshore drug cartel. She reached in, took a few, and shoved them in her pouch.

The next canister over was labelled “Kiss of Death” in Toborese, but it was empty, just a few empty bags at the bottom. She checked around for other similar stashes, but came up empty.

A data pad rested was lying on a table, wedged into a brace, and Jyi pulled it out, played with the controls along the side until it turned on. As it booted up, she used her sleeve to wipe some slime off the screen, gagging at the smell.

The pad gave her access to the travel logs and cargo manifests for the ship — she could tell by the layout on the screen — but the words were in a language she didn’t read. She paged down the list until she discovered she could tap each entry and see its coordinates on a space map, so she backed up and looked at the more recent activities.

She couldn’t see any evidence the Tobor were shipping Hash Prime to Centaurian space, but she kept searching anyway, just in case. The maps clicked by, one after another, and she wiped more blood from her forehead, tried to focus.

Then she stopped at a map she recognized, mouth agape, and put the pad back where she’d found it.

Jyi checked for her gun, but the holster was empty, so she slid down the hallway, checking through doors as she went. In one room, a pair of Tobor were playing a game of chance with a gnarled knife. They were both laughing, but neither looked happy.

She waited until they were both looking away, and then dashed across the entrance, stumbling into place against the wall. The world was spinning, and she pushed her hand against her forehead, came back with even more blood.

“Do you smell that?” asked one of the Tobor, and the knife rattled against the table.

“No,” said the other. “What?”

Jyi tried to focus, but it was hard. She stayed pressed against the wall, eyes willing to stay open, breaths all but stopped.

“Hold on,” said the first, and she heard the scraping of nails and boots as it plodded towards the door. She checked down the hall, saw a door not far away. She grit her teeth and made a dash for it, slipping inside seconds before the Tobor came out, checking up and down the corridor.

From inside her new rom, Jyi could see the creature sniffing the air, nostrils flaring, eyes narrow with suspicion. And there, on the wall where she’d been standing, was a smudge of blood from her hand as she caught her balance. The Tobor was only inches away from it.

Jyi tried to focus her mind, to see past herself and tap into the Tobor’s state of mind, but her head hurt so much she couldn’t pull it off. She just watched it there, sniffing the air, looking for something it couldn’t describe yet.

“Hey,” said the other one from inside the room. “If you don’t come back, you forfeit.”

The Tobor snarled, turned.

“I need a minute,” it said.

“I’m on shift in five,” said the other. “Hurry it up.”

The Tobor took another glance around the hall, then went back inside, pushing the door open a touch further. Jyi waited in the darkness, then slipped back into the hallway, down away from the Tobor, and finally found a room filled with what looked like communications equipment stolen from a Federation vessel. All the buttons on the console had tape put over them with Tobor writing on it. She closed the door behind her, locked it with the manual bolt, and raced to the machines.

Jyi turned on a screen and started dialling through frequencies, looking for something familiar. Sounds came through the speakers at the desk… alien music, casual conversations, military broadcasts… nothing fit. She paged to a different subnet channel and then jumped as a loud thump hit the door behind her.

She scrolled faster, trying to find something that might work. She looked around the room, trying to find a place to hide, but there was nothing for her. Nothing even remotely…

The door crunched inward with a mighty blow, and then again, and again, and finally slipped off its tracks and fell to the floor, rattling loudly. Two Tobor with guns ready burst through, checking left and right, left and right.

In the corner, on the ground beside the console, Jyi lay curled up in a ball, listening for the sound of the of the nails on the metal floor beside her. They tap-tap-tapped in place so close she could smell them, but she held her breath, held her thoughts close, tried to stay calm.

A moment later, the Tobor’s face was at her side, peering through the vent, sharp teeth gleaming as it smiled at her.

“Well hello there,” it snarled.

Darvey’s headache preceded consciousness by a full minute, but unlike his usual hangover headache this one extended all over his body. He blinked at the sun and the smoke above him, and the sight of a smiling Kaps looking down on him.

Then the smile faded.

“Dammit,” he grumbled. “I thought I was gonna win.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” Darvey said, getting to his feet. His back cracked loudly, and he stumbled forward. “That was a bitch. I feel like a truck hit me. Twice.”

“That’s the kinetic shielding,” Aphid said, coming up behind and brushing off his shoulders a little too tenderly. “You can imagine why taking a needle with the shield is not ideal. It redistributes the energy straight through you.”

“You guys suck at science fiction technology,” Darvey said, stretching himself out. “What happened to the ships? Where’s Jyi?”

Kaps looked around the wreckage of the hangar, shook his head.

“We’re pretty sure she’s not here.”

“And the tracer? Nothing on that?”

“Nothing,” said Aphid. “She might have been caught, or maybe they found the tracer. But right now, we have no idea where she is.”

“We’re going to get back to the ship and start a search grid to see where—”

“Hold on,” said Darvey. “We’ve got bigger issues.”

Kaps crossed his arms and made a snorting noise that seemed to come out of the sides of his neck.

“BIGGER issues?”

“The Tobor delivered Hash Prime to another ship. They’re going to distribute it offworld. To Centaurians.”

Kaps shrugged.

“So?”

Aphid slapped his shoulder.

“What was the other ship’s registry ID?” she asked Darvey. “It would have said on the side, underneath the name.”

“I have no idea. It was covered in scribblings.”

“That would be the name and the ID,” she sighed.

“I’m new here!” he said. “Cut me some slack!”

Kaps laughed, walked away, kicking some debris as he went. Aphid moved closer, pulling out her pad and scrolling it up and down.

“Okay, you don’t know what it said. What species were they?”

“Jyi never said.”

“What did they look like?” Aphid asked.

“I don’t know. Alienish?”

Aphid stared at him a moment.

“You are not turning me on right now.”

“Sorry,” said Darvey, shaking his head and trying to focus. The headache was getting bigger by the minute, and he desperately wanted to rub his eyes, but the mask was in the way. “They were little, and talked a lot, and they smoked these big green pipes and—”

“Tweeps,” sighed Aphid, and Kaps turned around.

“What’s that?” he called. “Did you say Tweeps?”

“Yeah,” said Aphid, then looked to Darvey. “I don’t like to speak ill of entire species, but Tweeps are probably the most consistently-awful creates in the universe. I’ve never met one that I didn’t want to decapitate.”

Darvey smiled nervously.

“It’s not much to go on,” said Aphid, “but I think I can narrow down the field. I’ll see which Tweep ships headed into this area in the last few days.”

“Sounds good,” said Darvey. “Let us know when you find something.”

Aphid paused.

“What do you mean? Where are you going to be?”

Darvey motioned to Kaps.

“Thicky and I are going to see if anyone knows anything about the Tobor pushers.”

“We are?” snarked Kaps.

“We are,” nodded Darvey. “If we can find the Tobor, we might be able to find the Tweeps too.”

“And I’m going to go with you because…?” laughed Kaps.

“You need to bust some heads,” said Darvey.

Kaps paused.

“Okay, I’m sold.”

***

It took the better part of what felt like an afternoon to find a street pusher who seemed to know that a race called the Tobor even existed. He was long and lean, with three large eyes that each looked bloodshot in a different way, and he kept rubbing his hands together like he was washing off something sticky.

“Nah,” he said twitching. “Nah, haven’t seen nonna Tobor.”

Kaps loomed over the pusher, rough skin creaking at joints.

“Why don’t I believe you?” he asked.

The pusher looked up, blinked two of his eyes, and smiled.

“Aw c’mon, man,” it pleaded. “It ain’t easy doin’ what I do. Cut me some slack, yeah?”

Kaps looked to Darvey.

“Can I hurt him now?”

The pusher shrunk a little.

“Not yet,” said Darvey. “I think he wants to tell us something.”

They looked down at the pusher, who raised himself up and laughed quietly to himself.

“I know some Tobor,” he said. “I mean, I don’t KNOW them, but I’ve seen ‘em around. They were… uh… they were at the bar down at the OceanSide Club, drinkin’ up a storm.”

“Did you talk to them?”

“Tobor? Jeesh man, no. Tobor eat dudes like me. I’m not going nowhere near onna them.”

“So where did they go after that?” asked Darvey.

“I dunno, man. I went to the little boys’ room and did my biz, and by the time I got out, they were gone!”

Darvey looked to Kaps, pulled him aside.

“How far is the OceanSide Club?”

“The ocean’s on the other side of the planet.”

“So it’d take a while to get there. Do you think he’s got the assets to cover that distance casually?”

“Not a chance,” nodded Kaps.

“You feel like he’s lying too?” Darvey asked, motioning over.

“Yes. Can I break him?”

“No,” said Darvey. “We’ve got to try this a different way.

When they turned back, pusher was scratching at the back of his hands with terrible urgency. He looked up at them, his face flinching, and laughed.

“You feel that too?” he asked. “Or no. You ain’t been here long enough yet.”

“Long enough for what?” asked Darvey.

“The itchin’. It’s Penetroleum, man. In the water. Every time you bathe, it goes’n makes yer skin all slippery, but if y’take too long between bathings, then WHAMMO, dude! WHAMMO! Skin burns right off.”

Kaps leaned over to Darvey.

“Penetroleum is how you clean a ship’s windows,” he whispered. “It’s like acid. It’s not in the water supply.”

“It IS, dude! It is!”

“Listen,” said Darvey. “If you hear about anyone who knows about any Tobor… any Tobor at all… you give us a shout, okay? We’ve got a hundred and fifty Picolents as a bounty.”

The pusher adjusted his stance a bit.

“W-w-what’s a Picolent?”

Darvey scratched the back of his helmet, shrugged.

“What currency do you use around here?” he asked.

“Dinaris,” said the pusher, twitching his middle eye.

“Oh, then about, what… six or seven billion of those.”

The pusher’s face went blank.

“Dude,” he said. “What did the Tobor DO to you?”

Darvey leaned in, spoke softly.

“They stiffed me on a shipment of Fluffballz. I want it back.”

“How big a shipment?” gasped the pusher.

“You know Fluffballz, right?”

The pusher nodded eagerly.

“Fifteen thousand of them,” said Darvey. “I had two ships ready to transport it, too.”

“Merde,” gasped the pusher. “Dude, that’s just WRONG.”

“So can you help me?”

The pusher looked left and right, then leaned in even closer. All three of his eyes were on Darvey.

“One-fifty Picolents, yeah?”

“That’s right.”

“Sit tight,” he said, backing away. “I’ll be right back.”

He ran down the street as fast as his miniscule legs could carry him, slipping around a corner and into the crowd. Kaps stood next to Darvey, scratched his armpit.

“You sure he’ll be back?” he asked.

“He thinks he’s going to be rich,” said Darvey.

“Yeah, about that… what the hell are Picolents?”

Darvey laughed.

“Fictional currency,” he said. “I figure if the rest of you can make shit up, so can I.”

Kaps laughed loudly.

“You’re a bastard, you know that?”

“I do,” smiled Darvey.

They stood there a moment, watching the lizard birds circling in the sky, the ships taking off into the sky, and it almost felt normal to Darvey. Almost.

“You know,” said Kaps. “The dealers in this district aren’t really known for givin’ out freebies. I mean, made-up money or not, you’re gonna have to pay.”

“I’ll bluff my way through, don’t worry,” said Darvey.

“I don’t think so,” said Kaps. “They’ll kill you if they find out you’re lyin’. Maybe YOU don’t mind that, but I do.”

Darvey nodded, checked down the street for the pusher.

“Can we requisition some funds?” he asked.

“We can try,” he said. He pulled out a data pad, hit some buttons, and handed it over to Darvey. A moment later, Lucas appeared onscreen.

“Hey Lucas,” he said. “We need some money.”

“You may not attend a strip club,” said Lucas.

“It’s not… what?”

“Kaps is with you.”

“No, it’s not that. It’s for information.”

Lucas nodded slowly.

“How much will you require?”

Darvey squinted.

“I think I said about seven billion Dinaris.”

Lucas didn’t move for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was an calm as ever, but there was something in the slight position of his eyes that said he was not amused.

“I will file the request, but it may take some time.”

“Time?” echoed Darvey. “I don’t HAVE time! Look, just say it’s urgent, and we’ll take whatever you can—”

He stowed the pad quickly at the sight of the pusher rushing back, sweat streaming out the gills at the side of his neck.

“You gotta come with me,” he wheezed. “The boss wants t’talk t’yall.”

“Good,” said Darvey.

“Nuh-uh,” said the pusher. “Not good. Serious business.”

The vent popped open and the Tobor reached in, pulling Jyi out and throwing her against a wall. She lay there, eyes rolled back, unmoving, a small trickle of blood on her forehead. The Tobor both aimed their guns at her, prodded her with their feet.

Her hand tipped over, and a few pill wrappers fell onto the floor. Vain. The Tobor snatched them up, turned them over.

“Tweaker,” said the first one. “Must have got in at the spaceport.”

“She’s got a transfibulator,” said the other, pulling a small octagon-shaped device out of her pocket. “Must be a serious tweaker to need this kind of hardware.”

Jyi opened her eyes, rolled onto her back, and smiled at them.

“Hello boys,” she slurred. “Wouldja like to come ice skating with me and President Janten?”

They exchanged glances.

“Kill her,” said the first, and aimed.

“Wait!” said the second. “Is she Centaurian?”

They crouched down, pushed her hair from her face, turned her head left and right. She closed her eyes again, drifted off.

“Looks like it,” said the first. “We still have a few more batches to test, don’t we?”

“I think so. Let’s get her set up, just in case. Saves us some trouble, later.”

They grabbed by the feet and dragged her out the door and down the hall, her head hitting every bump along the way, but she never made a sound, just lay there in a happy daze, arms over her head, smiling blankly.

They brought her into a room at the back of the cargo bay and set her down in a seat next to a young woman who seemed unconscious as well. Jyi was strapped into her seat, straightened up and slapped across the face.

“Stay put,” said the first Tobor. “Damn tweakers.”

They left the room, laughing.

Jyi’s eyes opened quickly, and she looked over to the woman next to her.

“Hey,” she whispered, checking the door for enemies. “Hey, are you awake?”

The woman’s head rolled over towards Jyi, her fluorescent beige hair falling into her face, only one of her eyes was looking in the right direction.

“Hallo,” she drooled. “How are you?”

“Are you alone here?” asked Jyi, trying to get her arm free, but realizing this ship’s straps were better built than the last one’s. She shifted herself, strained against the metal, but got nowhere.

The woman rolled her head back around, smiling at the air, laughing for a few seconds, and then stopping. The blinked, seemed to be looking at something specific, but then turned away, shuddering.

“Timezones,” said the woman. “I don’t understand timezones at all.”

“It’s okay,” said Jyi. “You’re going to be okay.”

“My papa told me to learn all the timezones. It’s good for your brain, he said. He said, he said, he said…”

“He’s right,” nodded Jyi, “it’s good for you. Tell me about them. Talk to me.”

She pulled her leg out from its restraint, but it got her nowhere. She pushed on the ground, trying to force herself free, but only felt her ribs crying out from the ordeal.

“Delta time is central time, and Antigen time is plus five. Sanzi time is plus eight, and the mansion is in Sanzi province.”

Jyi looked up.

“Sanzi?” she asked. “What mansion?”

“The new mansion. My papa is the best governor of them all.”

“Eshilia?” Jyi asked. “Are you Eshilia?”

“Eshie, Eshie, all fall down,” laughed the woman, then turned her head away.

Jyi pushed with her leg again, this time stronger, and cried out as her ribs begged for mercy. The girl started crying too, swayed her head side to side, desperate to escape.

“I had six friends,” she wept. “Six friends, but they’re all gone now. They’ve been melting, one by one.”

She turned and faced Jyi.

“Is it fun when you melt?”

Jyi set her jaw, looked away.

“I don’t know,” she said.

“It looks like fun,” sang Eshilia. “I hope it’s fun to melt…”

The Champale Room was underground, down a long, worn ramp that was stained with more kinds of liquid than Darvey would have thought possible. There were a pair of video walls along the front of the building that showed an assortment of creatures gyrating to tinny music, distorting at every bassy beat. It was only when Darvey saw a human-like species appear that he realized it was a strip club.

The pusher led them through the crowds of aliens to a back room, down a flight of concave stairs, to a palatial room littered with ornate tables, all orbiting around a central chair, upon which sat a pile of slime.

“This is them?” boomed the slime, its voice far too big for such a small bit of goo.

“That’s ‘em,” nodded the pusher. “Ask ‘em. Really, ask ‘em.”

The slime’s “front” turned towards Darvey and Kaps, bubbled slightly.

“You are after some Tobor, I understand.”

“That’s right,” said Darvey. “Mr…”

“Ogro,” said the slime. “You will call me Ogro.”

“Ogro, then. We’re after some Tobor who stole my merch. We heard you might be able to facilitate a meeting.”

The slime bubbled again.

“I can do many things. I know many people. Do you know many people?”

“I know a few,” said Darvey. “Are you looking?”

“I am looking for freedom,” said Ogro.

“Freedom from what, exactly?” asked Darvey with a smile no one could see. “I deal in all kinds.”

“Freedom from sycophants,” said Ogro. “Always sucking at my ass, offering oils and jellybelts. Never bringing me value. I do not need more assistants, I need partners!”

“I understand completely,” said Darvey. “I hate it when people suck at my ass.”

The slime oozed down his chair, onto the floor, towards Darvey. He tried not to move, in case he stepped on it and offended someone. It weaved between his feet, stopped behind him.

“When I started in this business, men were men,” Ogro said. “Now they just play men, hiding behind a real man’s back when times are rough.”

“Amen,” said Darvey.

“I have not seen you before,” noted Ogro.

“I’ve been offworld,” said Darvey. “On… uh… Zanzibar.”

“Zanzibar 5?” asked Ogro, oozing back around to the ground. “That is an excellent place! Did you try Slock fishing?”

“I did,” said Darvey, playing along. “Massive suckers, too.”

“Slock are miniscule,” said Ogro cautiously.

Darvey didn’t flinch.

“Not since the Penetroleum poisoning,” he said, and the pusher put a hand to his mouth in shock and vindication. “Things aren’t the same anymore.”

“No,” said Ogro. “No, they’re not. Old alliances fall away, and your friends desert you. Like your problem with the Tobor.”

“Exactly,” said Darvey.

“The Tobor were my oldest ally, you know,” said Ogro. “Before their last wars with Centauri, they were a good partner. Now I cannot raise them on the phone for anything. I do not know them anymore, it seems.”

“I know the feeling,” said Darvey.

Ogro slid back into his seat, bubbled again. He seemed to have grown a bit in the last few minutes, and was changing colour ever so slightly, to a kind of purple hue.

“You will tell me why you want the Tobor ship,” Ogro said. “Or I will not help you. And I will kill you all.”

The pusher shrunk back, whimpering. Darvey didn’t miss a beat.

“I bought a big shipment of Fluffballz from them,” he said. “Paid in advance because their reputation was good. Never trust Weebles. They’re lying bastards.”

Ogro bubbled appreciatively, so Darvey continued.

“Honestly,” he said, “I’m not in this for the FuzzBallz at all. I just know a guy who knows a guy who wants some, and he’s willing to pay twice the going rate, so… you know… economics.”

“Yes,” said Ogro. “I do know. What will you do with your money, when you have it?”

“How is that your business?” asked Darvey.

“It is my business to know all business.”

“That’s poetic of you. Fine. I’m going to buy a houseboat.”

“A houseboat,” echoed Ogro.

“Yeah, like on water. I promised my wife we’d get one, way back, and I figure this is as good a time as ever.”

“I do not understand the appeal of a houseboat,” said Ogro.

“It’s really for my wife,” said Darvey.

“Ahhh, I understand. For the wife. So she may thank you.”

“No, not that. She’s dead.”

Ogro said nothing, and bubbled only once.

“You are alien,” he said.

“I sure hope so,” said Darvey.

“Why would you buy this merchandise twice? You have already paid the Tobor, so why pay me too? It is not good financial sense.”

“Neither is a houseboat.”

“Then you are insane, and I will not do business with you.”

“I AM insane, but you want to do business with me.”

Ogro laughed. Or bubbled loudly. It had the same effect.

“I do not see why,” he said.

“Because the reason I want my merch back, and the reason I want that houseboat, is because it’s the principle of the thing. I don’t care what it costs, I’m getting that boat for my wife. And I’m going to make the Tobor deliver my goods, because that’s what I PAID them to do.”

Ogro, again, said nothing. Then he bubbled.

“You are alien, biped, but I enjoy your spirit. I will do business with you, but on these terms: I will help you find the ship, free of charge, but when you steal it back, you will provide me with half your FluffBallz.”

“That’s a lot of balls,” Darvey noted.

“I will make room.”

“All right,” said Darvey. “But now I don’t get YOUR angle. Why help me? That’s a big gamble for very little pay-off, FluffBallz or no.”

Ogro bubbled violently now.

“I owned the freighter those Tobor use now. Five years ago, I lose it in a game of Fetch, and for five years I have been plotting to get it back. The fools won’t sell. I cannot bear to see it crashed into Centaurian fighters in some foolish kamikaze attack. They have their own ships for that. Not mine. I am done with negotiations. Steal it back.”

Darvey shook his head, and beside him, Kaps gasped..

“Sorry,” he said. “No deal. Stealing back my merch is one thing, but stealing a whole ship That’s a theft on a big scale. I don’t think I can take that kind of risk, on top of everything else. Not for half my shipment.”

Ogro grew a little larger, and Darvey could see some air bubbles inside him now, puffing him up.

“I understand,” said the kingpin. “I will add in treats for you, to make it palatable. I will provide a free dose of Popswiz for you and your friend, and an hour with my best large squarependix wipple-wearing girl.”

Darvey blinked. He leaned over to Kaps.

“Translator error, I think.”

“I didn’t get it either,” he said.

“What’s a wip— oh.”

Out from the back of the club came a giant creature like an octopus with a giraffe head on top, wearing long golden braids that went from its underbelly and attached to rings in its lower eyelids. It sashayed towards Darvey and Kaps, wrapping them in gentle tentacles.

“This is Azariah,” said Ogro. “She can provide many kids of pleasure for you both.”

Darvey stared at Azariah, then leaned over to Kaps.

“I don’t know what to do with this,” he said.

“Don’t look at me,” said Kaps. “Big sweat glands turn me right off.”

“Is that what those are?”

“They’re dripping SOMETHING…”

“I think I’m going to be sick,” said Darvey

“Bet you wish you’d died earlier, don’t ya?”

“You have no idea.”

Ogro bubbled excitedly, lifting himself up over Azariah, watching them.

“Please!” he said happily. “Please, you may remove your suit and enjoy!”

Darvey shrugged, shook his head.

“You know what? That’s okay. We’re on a timetable, so if we could just finalize…”

“Very well,” said Ogro, lowering himself back down. “A deal it is. You may come back for Azariah at any time. We will lock her in a cage until your return.”

“That’s really not nec—”

“We will feed her,” said Ogro.

“Okay.”

“Find my ship,” said Ogro. “I will be waiting.”

Darvey turned to leave, but noticed a small canister bouncing down the stairs towards him. He tapped Kaps on the arm, and they both saw it land on the ground, roll for a second, and stop.

“Dammit,” said Kaps, and the canister exploded.

The light was blinding, but Darvey’s shield caught most of the blast, knocking him off his feet. Smoke filled the room as the canister rolled around, and the creatures around Ogro ran for cover, squealing and crying and stumbling over each other.

A squad of heavily-armoured agents rushed into the room, guns ready, and shoved Darvey back to the ground, binding his arms behind his back. They left him and Kaps up and dragged them up the stairs and into a small vehicle which immediately took off and up, bumping with turbulence as it weaved through the skies.

“You okay?” Darvey asked Kaps.

“Yeah,” he said. “You’re not dead?”

“Not yet.”

“Keep at it.”

“I will.”

They slid into a building and were dragged out, down a hall, and thrown into a cell with a sizeable opening on the outer wall, giving a clear view of the city below. Darvey touched the space gently, felt the buzz of a force shield keeping him inside.

“Can’t jump, sorry,” said Kaps.

“I don’t want to jump to death,” said Darvey.

“Seems like a fun way to go.”

“You try it then.”

Darvey shook his head, tried to see straight. The planet was massive and dusty, and from this height, he could see just how big it really was. The spaceport he was in was enormous, but only a fraction of the size of the other cities he could see in the distance. Smoke hung in the air like a splotch of paint on a canvas, waiting to be applied.

“So,” said Kaps, sitting in the corner and brushing the sand off himself. “Why AREN’T you dead yet? Getting cold feet?”

“No,” said Darvey, not looking around. “I’m getting there. I just need to take care of a few things first.”

“Like what? Azariah?”

Kaps chortled to himself.

“Like the Tobor. They’re going to kill a lot of innocent Centaurians with that drug. It’s not accidentally dangerous at all. They’re not trying to make it BETTER, they’re trying to make it WORSE.”

“That’s pretty common with them. They’ve got a long history together that—”

The door slid open, and two Orillians strode in. The closer one paused, looked from Kaps to Darvey, and then sat himself on a stool. It was Gazoo.

“I understand you have been to see Ogro,” said Gazoo. “And that you have a supply of Fluffballz you are trying to acquire.”

“Maybe,” said Darvey.

Gazoo frowned at him.

“What species are you?” he asked.

Darvey pointed at Kaps.

“Same as him.”

“I doubt that very much. Why are you wearing a suit?”

“I’m business-like.”

“What do you know about Fluffballz?” snapped Gazoo. “Stalling will only make it worse for you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Darvey. “I was just there to have some fun. Playing in cybernetically-enhanced gravity and stuff. Booferball and stuff.”

Gazoo sneered.

“You are making words up to confuse me.”

Darvey shrugged.

“We had Ogro’s entire facility under surveillance,” said Gazoo. “We KNOW what you were discussing. You cannot deny it.”

“What? Stealing ships? That was totally a joke. It would be crazy to steal a ship. Do you think I’m crazy?” He looked over to Kaps. “Don’t answer that.”

Gazoo stood up, walked into the far corner, and straightened his jacket.

“There is a band of Orillian traitors working the drug trade in this area. I wonder, are you one of them? What species are you?” he asked.

“I told you, I’m the same as him.”

“I do not believe you.”

“It’s true,” said Kaps. “He’s my cousin. We call him Tiny. And not for the reason you think.”

“You do not speak the same language,” said Gazoo.

“He was raised by wild animals,” said Kaps. “Ugly ones, too. That’s why he’s so dumb, and—”

Gazoo took a gun from his belt and pointed it at Darvey’s face.

“Take off your mask,” he growled.

“Or what?” asked Darvey.

“I will blow it off you.”

“That’s not a big threat for him, y’know,” chimed in Kaps.

“Do it!” shouted Gazoo. “Now!”

Darvey looked down the barrel of the gun and imagined the needle blowing out his brains. He wondered what it would feel like. He hadn’t put much thought into the details of his death, but it seemed appropriate that he should suffer some before he died. He just wasn’t sure this was the way he wanted to do it.

He thought of the Centaurians on the Tobor ship, their skin boiling off, and he imagined that on a large scale. Like Penetroleum in the water, and he—

“Fine,” he said, and took off the mask. Gazoo backed up quickly, fumbled with a panel on the wall, hitting buttons quickly. Darvey felt the back of his neck and the side of his face burning, and he grit his teeth, the sizzling so close to his ear.

Gazoo hit a final button and the window tinted quickly, and the burning stopped. Darvey panted, kept his eyes on the Orillian.

“You!” gasped Gazoo. “You’re… the Centaurian!”

Darvey shrugged.

“But why didn’t you… if you could have…”

Gazoo pointed the gun at Kaps, powered it up. He snarled at Darvey.

“Who ARE you?” he shouted.

Darvey looked at Kaps, at the gun, and shook his head.

“I’m Mack Darvey,” he said. “Detective Mack Darvey. From Earth.”

The gun dropped. Gazoo looked at Darvey, the burnt flesh on his neck, and over to Kaps.

“Oh my goodness,” he breathed. “CSA?”

Kaps shook his head unhappily.

“Yeah,” said Darvey. “So you can appreciate why we’re trying to keep a low profile.”

Gazoo rushed around behind Darvey, undoing his cuffs, then stumbling over to do the same for Kaps.

“I’m so sorry,” he said. “I’ve never met a human before, so I… I’m really, very sorry. Have we interfered with a… well… of course you can’t… but I…”

Darvey stood up, stretched out his arms, and looked to Kaps. He was still not impressed.

“If there’s anything we can do to help you,” said Gazoo eagerly, “please do not hesitate to ask.”

“The only thing we need is some room to work,” said Darvey. “Think you can manage that?”

Gazoo nodded, opened the cell door and led them out. Darvey slid his mask back on, wincing at the contact with his neck. It burned more against the cold fabric.

“Again, we’re so sorry for any trouble we’ve caused you,” said Gazoo as they were shown into a conference room with sleek tables, just like aboard their ship. “If the CSA would coordinate their actions with our branch offices, we could avoid all such misunderstandings and—”

“You know what?” said Darvey. “Forget about it. We just need to find that missing ship.”

“Which ship would that be?” asked Gazoo.

“There was a Tobor freighter, and a smaller Tweep vessel. Either one is good.”

Gazoo stroked his chin, nodding.

“I do not know where the Tweeps may be, but the Tobor often meet at the space station off Xena, in this system. Recreationally. Ever since the 4-20 incident.”

“4-20?” Darvey said with a smile.

“Horniscopes,” nodded Gazoo. “Terrible tragedy.”

Darvey just nodded.

“We can provide you with transport back to your ship if you like. And we’ll add it to our registry, so we never board you in error again—”

“Don’t even think about it,” said Kaps. “You know better.”

Gazoo nodded, smiled nervously.

“Quite right,” he said. “I apologize.”

They were installed in a ship called the Coriander, a confiscated Tobor shuttle, and sent on their way with several more rounds of apologies. Kaps accepted them with increasing agitation, but Darvey tuned it all out, thinking ahead. Even if they found the Tobor, it might be too late to catch the Tweeps before they reached the Centaurians…

“What I don’t understand,” said Darvey, “is how the Tobor came up with this plan in the first place. Poisoning? It doesn’t seem like their style.”

“Yeah,” agreed Kaps. “They’re not the subtle type.”

“They seem more likely to rip your throat out. Or vacuum you out the airlock.”

“Or spacing you.”

“What’s that?”

Kaps thought for a moment.

“I don’t know how to explain it. It hurts.”

“Right.”

Kaps arched back, cricked his neck again, and leaned against the desk at the edge of the cockpit.

“The Tobor aren’t the smartest,” he said. “That’s for sure. But you won’t need to be very smart to poison a lot of people.”

“I don’t know,” said Darvey. “Something like this will take a lot of work to deploy widely. And given how fast it works, I don’t see how they’d kill all that many Centaurians before it was clear what went wrong.”

“They don’t need to kill all of ‘em,” said Kaps. “They just need to kill a bunch, and get a foothold on the planet.”

Darvey cocked his head.

“A foothold how? Why?”

“It’s like this: the Tobor and Centaurians share a District, but the Tobor only have two planets to themselves.”

“How many do the Centaurians have?”

“Thirteen.”

“Yikes. So if it’s representation by population—”

“It’s not, though,” said Kaps. “God, my civics class coming back to bite me in the ass. No, it’s like this: it’s representation by population for each given planet. So if you make up a big enough percentage of the population on one of the Centaurian planets, you own two representatives. Two representatives equals more cash, and that means they might be able to pull their economy out of the shitter.”

“So it’s political maneuvering?”

“Exactly,” smiled Kaps.

“Then that sounds even LESS like the Tobor.”

“I know…”

Darvey stared out the front viewport, looking at the stars, the planet below them, and thought of each one of the stars having this kind of trouble circling it, like wasps at a picnic. Each one of those stars, each with its own political—

“What if it’s not the Tobor doing this?” he asked. “What if—”

“Oh crap,” said Kaps, rushing to the back of the cabin. He pulled a bit of covering off a back panel, and below it was a small device, covered in wires, with a display that appeared to be counting down.

“That’s a bomb, isn’t it?” asked Darvey.

“These things follow you around!” Kaps snapped, throwing the cover off the bomb and backing up. “Kill yourself BY yourself, will you?”

Darvey shook his head.

“I’ll make a note.”

The digits didn’t make sense to him, but the concept was clear enough. And from the pattern he was seeing, they didn’t have much time left.

“What can we do?” he asked. “Um… can you defuse bombs?”

“How would I be able to do that?”

“You’re in charge of weapons!”

“I’m in charge of USING weapons, not stopping them!”

Darvey ran his hands across his face trying, to think.

“We can blow it out the airlock,” he said.

“What airlock?” asked Kaps. “This is it. That door leads straight outside.”

“Dammit. Transporters?”

Kaps smacked Darvey across the back of the head.

“Pay attention,” Kaps said.

The timer continued to race as Darvey started checking out the wires running to and fro on the bomb’s exterior. None of them made any sense, and none of them even seemed to be connected to the timer itself. It was suspended a few centimetres off the surface of the device by some invisible force, which made it clear this technology was far, far out of his mental reach.

“Okay,” he said. “What are our options?”

“You mean besides dying? I don’t know! Do you have any words of wisdom in your culture? ‘Cause I’m coming up short!”

Darvey nodded.

“Read the fucking manual,” he said.

“WHAT?”

“That’s all I can think of. You do better! How do you escape certain doom?”

“Swap places with the lawyer wearing a wig,” said Kaps, then looked immediately embarrassed. “It’s a TV drama. My mom watches it. Shut up, pasty boy.”

Darvey stood up, backed away again.

“How much time do we have left?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I don’t read Tobor.”

“This is a TOBOR bomb?”

“Yeah, see this is much more their style.”

Darvey nodded.

“All right here’s the plan. I’m going to pick it up and smash it into the wall, and you’re going to take cover. If it blows up, hopefully it just blows up me.”

“And sucks me into space.”

“You know what? if you put a little more effort in, maybe you wouldn’t be stick with that kind of outcome!”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What kind of weapons expert can’t disable a bomb!”

“What kind of cop gets knocked unconscious every five minutes?”

“I’m having a bad day!”

“And you’re taking me down with ya!”

Darvey motioned to the bomb with a jabbing finger.

“This isn’t my fault!”

They both paused, looked over at the bomb. The counter had stopped. There was no explosion. Darvey walked over, tapped the timer, and it fell to the ground, blank.

He stood up, looked at Kaps.

“A Tobor bomb, you say.”

“Exactly.”

“There’s no way they’re behind this drug plot.”

“No way,” Kaps agreed.

“So we’ve got to figure out who IS…”

They docked with the Thomas Derra, meeting Aphid and Lucas in the entranceway. Lucas was calm and composed, but Aphid ran to Kaps, wrapping four of her arms around him, holding him tight.

“I was so worried!” she sputtered. “A bomb! A BOMB!”

“Tobor bomb,” correct Kaps. “So really just an over-made clock.”

“Still,” said Aphid, running her hand along his cheek. “You survived.”

Darvey looked away, saw Lucas staring at him.

“The Orillians know about us,” Lucas said. “Our cover is compromised.”

“Sorry about that,” Darvey muttered. “They were going to kill Kaps.”

Lucas cocked his head, made no change in his face.

“That was an acceptable trade.”

Aphid stepped away from Kaps, made a sniffling noise, as if she were crying. Darvey hoped it was just the translator filling in effects.

“I found the Tweep ship,” she said. “The only one in the area this week. It didn’t report touching down at Terminal 2, but it passed by a few relays this afternoon on its way out of the system.”

“Where’s it going?” asked Darvey. “Can we get to Centauri on time?”

“That’s not it,” said Aphid, shaking her head. “It’s not going to a Centaurian planet at all. It’s heading to the Terran system.”

Kaps grunted with shock.

“Wait, you mean—”

“Earth!” said Darvey. “How fast can this thing go?”

Kaps grabbed Aphid’s data pad, and tapped three buttons.

“Let’s find out.”

The Thomas Derra shot away from the planetside, throwing off the Tobor shuttle as it disappeared from view. Two seconds later, a piece of space garbage touch the shuttle bounced off, and was incinerated when the shuttle exploded.

Eshilia’s haze was lifting, but she still rambled on about strange subjects at the slightest provocation. Jyi was working her towards lucidity, but it was maddeningly slow progress.

“How many of Tobor have you seen so far?”

“Which are the Tobor again?”

or

“Have you heard about Hash Prime?”

“Prime numbers are big and small…”

Not matter what she asked, Eshilia never made any progress. Then, finally, after two hours of effort, her eyes almost worked in unison, and she finally saw Jyi for the first time.

“Where am I?”

“A Tobor ship,” said Jyi. “Do you remember how you got here?”

“I… I was at a party with my friends for my… my twenty-first birthday, and… there was this flash, and… Ryen… my boyfriend… he’s… he’s dead, isn’t he?”

“I don’t know,” said Jyi, as Eshilia’s eyes filled with tears. “I’ll find out for you. You have to stay calm, all right? Stay calm.”

Eshilia started to sob, wrestling against the straps that held her down. Her breathing got faster, sharper, and she gasped for air, weeping, straining her legs, trying to get free.

“Help me!” she yelled. “Somebody help me!”

Jyi shushed her urgently, tried to talk over the cries.

“Eshie… Eshie, I need you to stay calm. Shh. Stay calm. It’s going to be all right.”

“It’s… it’s not going to be all right! Ryen is dead!”

“He’s not dead, Eshie. You don’t know that.”

“I do! He’s dead!”

“Eshie, I need you to listen to me!” Jyi said, force coming back to her voice, the softer edge all but gone.

“Eshie, think calm thoughts. You know what I do when I’m upset?” Eshilia slowed her crying, blinked back tears, her bright blue eyes shining in the dim light. Jyi continued, softer again: “It’s silly, but ever since I was a little girl, I tear strips of paper into little bits. Squares, you know? Little rough-edged squares.”

Eshilia’s crying had all but stopped. She sniffled, swallowed.

“Squares…” she whispered.

“On really bad days, my bed would be covered with tiny paper squares. All different colours. Like a scattered rainbow. And I’d take those squares, and I’d glue them together, and I’d make these giant mosaics… pictures of flowers, or sunny days, or my mom and dad… and it was like I was turning all the hate and the hurt and sadness of the world into something beautiful.”

Eshilia smiled weakly.

“They sound wonderful,” she said.

“They were,” nodded Jyi.

The Tobor returned, striding with cocky confidence, and bared their teeth at the sight of the two women taking. The closest Tobor grunted, put Jyi’s leg back in position.

“Not a tweaker after all, are you?” he snorted.

“No,” Jyi said, eyes narrow. “Just an angry Centaurian.”

The Tobor laughed, pointed to a small box at the back end of the room, flashing blue light in its centre.

“Don’t bother trying the amplification,” he said. “The disruptor creates static to keep us safe. Learned the hard way, dealing with so many of your kind.”

Jyi strained against the straps.

“Not that your freakish Centaurian mind tricks would stop our plan,” he laughed, waving his paws and rolling his eyes, then laughing. “After this last test, we’ll be ready to wipe out you slugs on a massive scale.”

“Good luck with that,” she sneered.

“You are overconfident for someone about to die.”

“I was going to say the same to you.”

He laughed, then kicked her in the knee. She roared in pain, but bit back a cry, narrowing her eyes and putting on a smile.

“How’d you like it when your race got their asses handed to them over and over again in the Three Year War?” she said. “Did it hurt your pride, or do you have any left after the decades of abuse you’ve taken from every damn species in the galaxy?”

His claws came out, and he began to growl.

“Shut your mouth, slug.”

“Or what? You’ll make me suffer? You Tobor are about as effective at war as a kneecap on a tentacle.”

He snarled, reached back to strike, but made a fist, lowered his hand, and calmed himself.

“I lost half my family in that War,” he said, his voice deep and mournful. “And they will not have died in vain. When we are done with you and your kind, the score will be settled. And it WILL be settled.”

He stormed out of the room, his guards following. Jyi tried to bend her leg to test her knee, but the pain was too much. She looked over at Eshilia, who was starting to panic again.

“I can’t feel anything,” she said, a tremor in her voice.

“It’s the disruptor,” said Jyi. “Stay calm, Eshie.”

“I can’t FEEL anything!”

“Stay calm, Eshie. It’ll be all right. Everything’s under control. I’ve got everything under control…”

The disruptor flashed its blue light back at her, doubting every word.

Darvey was trying to get gel off his hands as he entered the cockpit. The gel definitely made the back of his neck feel better, but it just wouldn’t come off his hands. He almost didn’t notice the tension in the room.

“Okay, okay,” said Kaps, waving his hands. Aphid was sitting across from him, her body rigid, antennae back, almost hostile. “That wasn’t the best delivery. Try this one. Hey Darvey! Listen! What do you call a Tobor in a tree?”

Darvey winced at the pain as he touched the burn again.

“I don’t know. What?”

“Come on, guess.”

“A Toborgrannate.”

Nobody spoke for a moment.

“No,” said Kaps. “It’s one less Tobor on the ground.

Darvey nodded, unimpressed.

“Great. Ha. Magic.”

“Okay,” said Kaps. “What’s two Tobor in a tree?”

“Two fewer Tobor on the ground?”

“No!” laughed Kaps. “It’s one more Tobor in the tree!”

Darvey sat at the desk, massaging his neck.

“So what are three Tobor in a tree?”

Darvey sighed.

“Two more Tobor in the tree?”

“No!” cackled Kaps. “It’s an ambush!”

No one spoke for quite some time.

“So,” Darvey said. “Any idea how to get this stuff off my hands? It’s really disgusting.”

Aphid got to her feet, slid over next to Darvey, and took her hand in hers. She looked at the gel.

“That does look terrible,” she said. “I can lick it off if you like.”

She met his eyes. He did not know what to say.

Kaps got up suddenly, pushed in his chair awkwardly, and backed away from the table.

“I’m… uh… going to get the weapons ready,” he said.

“Jyi said you’re not allowed to use those guns anymore!” Aphid called to him, and he ducked back in.

“She was joking,” he said.

“She really wasn’t Kaps.”

“What good is a weapons expert that can’t fire weapons?” he exclaimed.

“Exactly my point!” laughed Aphid.

He slammed his fist into the wall.

“I’m a good shot,” he said.

“I know a create of contact explosives that wouldn’t agree.”

He stormed out of the room, and a large protozoa-like created scurried past him, laying low and pausing every few steps. Aphid returned to stroking the gel off Darvey’s hand, putting her arm into her hand and sucking it clean in slow, delicate motions.

Darvey began to back away when Lucas came into the room, almost stepping on the protozoa.

“Darvey,” he said. “We have received a ruling on your techniques.”

“Great,” said Darvey, standing up and taking his hand away from a whimpering Aphid.

“No,” said Lucas. “The ruling is not favourable. You are hereby ordered to abide by all CSA regulations. At all times.”

Darvey rolled his eyes.

“The regulations don’t matter when there are lives at stake. I’m not apologizing.”

“This is not a question of apologies,” said Lucas. “It is about legalities. You cannot write the laws as you go.”

“That’s not what I’m doing!”

“The key to law enforcement,” Lucas said, stepping closer, “is replicable results that deter crime. If you cannot build your case carefully — the proper way — the Orillians will dispute our jurisdiction over this issue, and very likely sabotage our efforts.”

“What, it’s a pissing match? They’d really sacrifice innocent lives over JURSIDICTION?”

“They only reluctantly accept CSA involvement in their District. We cannot give them a reason to force us out. If we are transferred out, you will never see your home again.”

Darvey took a step back, knotting his brow, staring into the space between himself and Lucas. There was something there that he couldn’t put his finger on. Something obvious, but just not… clear…

The protozoa peeked its head out from under the desk, but Darvey missed it, looking at Lucas with new energy.

“The Orillians are in charge of the District Earth is in?” he asked.

“Yes,” said Lucas. Earth has one council member, and the other twenty-four are are Orillian. Do not think you can depend on the District Authority to protect you if you step—”

“It’s a power grab!” Darvey said, shaking his head. “The Tobor aren’t behind this, the Orillians are! They aren’t trying to kill Centaurians, they’re using the Tobor’s feud as an excuse to test Hash Prime!” He turned to Aphid. “Humans and Centaurians are almost identical, physically, right?”

“Yes, but—”

“They want control of the District, so they’re going to make a drug that will wipe out the human race!”

The Thomas Terra slowed down sharply as it entered the Terran system, the only object visible was the sun, a small glowing ball in the distance. Darvey looked out the viewport at the darkness, the lack of planets, the lack of anything at all. It felt so cold.

“Nothing’s here,” he said.

“Planets don’t orbit in sync,” said Aphid. “It’s normal.”

“I guess,” he said.

Lucas pulled up diagrams onscreen, navigated them ably.

“The Tweep ship is approaching Earth,” he said. “They are slowing down. You appear to be correct, Darvey.”

“How fast can we get there?” Darvey asked.

“Regulations forbid speeds in excess of—”

“Two minutes,” said Aphid, and powered up the engines.

Lucas said nothing for a moment, then said: “We are not able to engage in communications this close to Earth.”

“We CAN’T or we SHOULDN’T?” asked Darvey.

Lucas stared at him.

“You will agitate the Orillians,” he said.

“I sure hope so.”

The ship tore towards Earth, and as it approached, lights flashed on the console, and the screen magnified to show the Tweep ship easing into position against the bright blue sphere.

“I see the ship!” Kaps called over the intercom. “What do I do?”

“Give me a second,” said Darvey. “Aphid, can we call them?”

“One second,” she said, and tapped a few buttons. The screen flickered, and a small icon appeared in the corner, surrounded by what looked like signal strength meters. Aphid nodded to Darvey.

“This is the CSA vessel Thomas Derra,” said Darvey. “We know what you’re up to. Shut down your engines and prepare to be boarded.”

He motioned to Aphid, and she cut the connection.

“How was that?” he asked.

“I would surrender,” she purred.

The console blared suddenly, and three fierce, glowing streaks shot towards them. Aphid’s arms shot across the console, and the ship lurched sideways, rolling out of the way of the blasts.

“What do we do?” asked Darvey.

Lucas said nothing. Aphid clicked happily.

“I will take evasive measures? Countermeasures perhaps?”

“Sounds good. Do it.”

The intercom buzzed and Kaps cleared his throat.

“Can I help?” he asked.

Darvey looked to Aphid and Lucas. Both shook their heads. The Tweep ship fired again, and Aphid barely got them out of range in time. Darvey reached into his pocket, pulled out a quarter, turned it over.

“Heads, you do nothing. Tails, you kick their ass. Got it?”

“Sure,” said Kaps, tension in his voice.

Darvey tossed the coin, caught it, put it to the back of his hand. He held it out to Lucas.

“Which is it?” he asked.

“I do not understand your pictograms,” said Lucas, looking away.

Darvey checked the coin.

“Kaps? Ass-kicking time.”

The intercom went dead, and a second later, a massive barrage of shots flew from behind the viewscreen and hit the Tweep ship over and over again along its backside. It rocked sideways, and its engines cut out. They started drifting downward.

“Mission accomplished,” said Kaps. “I took out their engines.”

“Wow,” said Darvey. “That was… really efficient.”

“I’ve been saving it up.”

“I can tell.”

Darvey motioned to the screen.

“Let’s try calling them again. See if they’re ready to talk.”

Aphid hit some buttons on the console, and they looked up in time to see the Tweep ship explode in a quick burst of fire. No one spoke for a moment.

“Their generator is right next to the engine room,” said Kaps. “It was hit or miss.”

The intercom went dead.

Lucas turned away from the screen, walked to the door, and turned back briefly. His eyes here narrow, and for the first time, he looked genuinely angry.

“This will take much effort to fix,” he said. “I am already receiving calls from CSA headquarters. What should I say?”

Darvey shrugged.

“We did our jobs,” he said.

Lucas left without another word. Aphid was playing with the console, twitching her head to the side as if listening. Darvey sat next to her, trying to hear.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Scanning frequencies,” she said. “Without the Tweeps to question, we still have no idea where Jyi is.”

“You think she’s sending a distress call?”

“I hope so. It’s what we’re trained to do, if we can.”

“So what are you hearing?”

She looked around, then snapped back to attention.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I forgot you can’t hear that frequency. Here…”

She pushed a button, and the cockpit filled with noise. Static, random chatter, a mish-mash of languages that were too distorted for his translator to pick up, he guessed. He strained to listen as it cycled through channels, searching.

“These are a bit fainter than usual, because we’re filtering out all the Earth-based transmissions. Normally, it would be a lot clearer. And it will be, once we get further away.”

Darvey nodded. He listened through the creaks and the echoes and the scrapes and other odd noises until it all sounded like white noise, so fuzzy he couldn’t focus. He put his head in his hands, tried to make sense of it… and then he froze.

“Wait,” he said. “What was that?”

Aphid frowned, dialled back. He hit the desk as she passed a channel filled with faint music.

“There!” he said. “Where’s that coming from?”

“Let me see,” she said, tapping some buttons. The song became clearer, and they sat in silence at the chorus sang them a pulsating serenade: “Oh do it all night, Do it with me, I'll take you to heaven if you make me feel free…”

Darvey and Aphid looked at each other for a moment.

And another moment.

“You know this song?” she asked quietly.

Darvey smiled nervously.

“It’s called ‘Do it All Night.’”

“I see…”

“It’s a long story.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Where is it coming from?” Darvey asked, snapping out of the daze. “If you’re filtering out Earth-based transmissions, then…”

“It’s from your Kuiper Belt,” she said. “And it’s not a bounceback. It’s a relay!”

Darvey smiled.

“It’s not a relay,” he said. “It’s our distress signal.”

The Tobor burst back into the room with Hash Prime ready, and Eshilia screamed as they stormed towards her. Jyi twisted in her seat, fighting against the straps. The needle pressed against Eshilia’s arm.

“Hey!” Jyi shouted. “Leave her alone!”

The Tobor turned on Jyi, bared his teeth.

“Wait your turn, slug!” he snapped.

“Come here and say that again.”

He put the needle down and grabbed Jyi’s face in his hand, squeezed tight.

“Wait… your… turn…”

He let go and turned back to Eshilia, so he didn’t see Jyi pull her leg free. Her knee hit his spine with a crack, and she twisted herself around, catching his neck in the crook of her leg, and slammed his head into the chair. He roared in pain.

“Let her go!” Jyi shouted to the other Tobor. They had their hands on their guns, trying to decide what to do.

“Kill her, you idiots! She can’t hurt you! Do it!”

They pulled their weapons out, took aim, and then the lights flickered. A crackling noise echoed through the room, and the intercom came to life.

“Hello Tobor!” said Darvey, his voice bursting with an energy Jyi had never heard. “I’m calling to demand you surrender, and return our people to us unharmed. You have… five minutes to comply. Hope that works for you.”

The two Tobor looked to each other, about to speak, and then the lights went out completely. The backup generator threw up emergency lighting, flickering and yellow, and there was a long silence in the room as everyone looked to the disruptor on the far wall.

Its light was not on.

***

Darvey and Kaps arrived, weapons ready, to discover the Tobor resistance weeping under their desks. They found Jyi and Eshilia still strapped down, but their captors were nowhere to be seen. Jyi said nothing as her straps were undone, her eye twitching with the effort of holding so many people at bay for so long.

Eshilia fell out of her seat when she was freed, curled on the ground, and began to cry. Jyi knelt down next to her, rubbing her back, and the others left them in peace. Jyi whispered softly, catching the hints of consolation and hope in the air, and amplifying them every chance she got.

“You’re okay now, Eshie,” she said. “You’re going to be fine.”

“I… I can’t… I can’t…”

“Shhh,” Jyi said. “You’re going to be fine.”

“They’re… the Tobor are going to be… they’re going to find me…”

“They’re not going to find you,” Jyi said. “You’re safe.”

“They’re so scary…” Eshie cried.

“No they’re not. Do you know the joke about the fat Tobor?”

Eshie shook her head, but wouldn’t look up.

“He was so fat,” Jyi said, “that when he entered a solar system, it caused an eclipse.”

Eshie choked on laughter, rubbed her eyes..

“That’s terrible,” she said.

“That big guy over there told it to me,” Jyi said, pointing to Kaps. “If you want to be tortured, you can ask him for more.”

Eshie laughed, and Jyi boosted her happiness, her elation, until the terror was nothing more than a speck in the room. They stayed there, huddled on the floor of the Tobor ship, while the world crawled along without them,

Jyi put the cold pack to her knee, wincing at the sensation. She eased back onto her bed, leaning against the wall, and closed her eyes.

When she opened them, Lucas was standing in the doorway, his face blank. Jyi motioned to her chair, and he moved inside, sat down.

“You survived,” he said.

“Just barely.”

“You do that often, I have noticed.”

She nodded, moved the ice.

“Are you all right?” he asked, leaning forward slightly. Jyi smiled at him, shrugged.

“My knee will be fine,” she said. “And as for the other matter… yeah, it’s taken care of. The antidote was there. I’m fine now.”

Lucas sat back, taller, smiled like a creature that was taught how to smile.

“Excellent news,” he said. “I will have nothing to report about your health, then.”

“Thanks. How much trouble are we in over the Darvey situation?”

Lucas thought for a moment, then spoke carefully.

“Assuming he does not stay with us much longer, we should not risk losing our status in this District.”

“Good,” she said. “As long as we get to stay here—”

“We would never be assigned to your District, Jyi.”

She laughed, got to her feet, put the cold pack down the desk chute, and walked past Lucas into the hall. Down the hall, the last of the Tobors were being filed into the holding cells, hands latched behind them, faces downturned, tired, defeated.

Jyi and Lucas arrived at the cockpit as Aphid was pulling up schematics onscreen. She turned as they entered, clicked happily, and nodded.

“I hear you had quite the adventure,” she said.

Jyi shrugged.

“I’ve seen worse.”

“Well SPEAKING of worse… guess who we’ve got on the line right now?”

Jyi glanced at the call signature, exhaled slowly.

“Orillians. Great.”

“Yeah,” said Aphid, getting out of her seat. “So have fun. And good luck.”

Jyi hit the button on the console, and Gazoo appeared, suit fully pressed, standing as straight and proper as he could possibly muster. She had a hard time not rolling her eyes at him.

“I hear congratulations are in order, Captain,” said Gazoo, giving her his best smile. “A plot to destroy one of our most cherished planets defeated, and a the Governor’s daughter recovered safely. We could not be more pleased.”

“Thank you, sir,” she said without a hint of emotion.

“We are truly impressed at your work in this matter, and will be recommending a commendation to the CSA at our next council meetings. They should know of your excellent policework here.”

Jyi nodded

“Though… it’s not all finished yet, sir,” she said.

Gazoo froze.

“No?” he asked.

“No sir,” she said. “We’re following some leads that suggests the Tobors might have been working with someone else. A mastermind behind the Earth plot. Someone with connections and brains.”

Gazoo licked his lips slowly, nodded as if thinking.

“I see,” he said. “But Captain… don’t you think that’s a little far-fetched? The Tobors are notoriously independent. Why would they—”

“Maybe they were offered something they wanted more than independence,” Jyi said coldly. “Like revenge.”

Darvey entered the cockpit, stood at the back after a warning look from Lucas. He watched the scene, arms clasped behind his back, eyes narrow at the sight of Gazoo again.

“It sounds very much like legal posturing to me,” said the Orillian. “Shifting blame, trying to drag others down with them. Don’t you worry, my dear. We’ll take care of all this in District Court when they’re tried for genocide. It will all be investigated thoroughly, I promise you.”

Jyi nodded, looked to Darvey, whose face was contorted with rage.

“I’m sure you will,” she said, and turned off the comm.

“What in the hell was THAT?” boomed Darvey. “Is it just me, or did he just tell you there’s going to be a coverup?”

“They’re going to be a coverup,” said Jyi. “If you didn’t see it coming, you haven’t been paying attention. Even if Gazoo himself isn’t involved, he’s not going to let the CSA go looking into the comings and goings of the District Authority. There’s just no way.”

“So what? They get off scott free? You can’t be serious.”

“They don’t have control of the Council.”

“You mean because Earth’s still there.”

“Exactly.”

“I still don’t get why that’s so important to them,” said Darvey. “I mean, it can’t just be about prestige, can it? They can’t really need to be in control that much?”

Lucas stepped forward, clasped his hands like a professor again.

“Rezoning of District land requires unanimous agreement of the council. The Terran system and adjoining areas are largely undeveloped real estate with extremely lucrative business potential. The Orillians have been trying to gain access to your solar system for quite some time, but have never been able to sway your Council representative. If they were to gain control of that last vote, the human race could find itself a stranger in its own home.”

Darvey looked at the screen, the blackness of space, the grid of the Terran system before him.

“So they’re stopped now, right? They can’t do that.”

“No,” said Lucas. “They will not try to take over Earth again. The discovery of a credible terrorist threat to your planet has triggered a new level of Confederation protection for Earth. There will be blockades and agents in the area within days, now that this has been identified as a possible war zone.”

Darvey crossed his arms, frowned.

“So they’re safe? The Earth is safe?”

“Relatively safe.”

“That doesn’t sound good,” Darvey sighed.

“The last time a non-spacefaring planet got this designation,” Jyi said, “it brought all the scum of the universe down on them, looking for easy marks. Until now, Earth’s been a nothing on the galactic scale. Not even a blip on the radar. After this… every criminal out there knows you can’t defend yourselves.”

“Great,” said Darvey.

“Murder, assassinations, petty crime, flashing old ladies on the street… the whole deal. It’s coming.”

“And more work for you, I bet,” he said.

“The drugs are always first on the scene. But we’re ready.”

“I hope so.”

Jyi smiled an icy smile.

“I’m surprised you’re still around,” she said. “You couldn’t find a spare gun lying around? Hang yourself in your room? Bury yourself alive?”

“I’m claustrophobic.”

She laughed, then took her gun off her belt, handed it to Darvey. He looked at it, turned it over in his hand, looked up at her.

“We’ll give you some privacy,” she said.

She and Lucas started to leave, but Darvey caught her by the arm.

“You know what?” he said. “Not today.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“Not today? Then when?”

“It’s like this,” he said, putting the gun back in her hand. “If all the scum of the universe of coming to Earth, they’re going to need the best law enforcement they can get. And you guys? Not a chance. I’m not risking my homeworld to someone like Kaps. He’ll blow up the Vatican by mistake.”

“He won’t be allowed near those guns again,” Jyi said with a smile.

“Yeah, as if anyone listens to YOU.”

She laughed, and Darvey felt better than he’d felt in months… or even years. And even though he knew in the back of his mind that Jyi was doing it to him, he didn’t say anything, didn’t fight it. Try as he might, he couldn’t see the girl on the bicycle anymore, couldn’t feel the shame. He knew the elation wasn’t real, but by god, he was willing to accept this “new” real, if only for today.

***

That evening, they ate their first real meal together as team. Aphid explained the dishes to Darvey: rok, a kind of phlegmy substance that looked like Ogro’s children; golli, a bamboo-like treat whose main selling point was that it flayed open in your mouth and made you bleed; and jan, a long, flat bread that was the most normal of the options, so Darvey took a bite, and tried chewing.

“You don’t like it?” asked Kaps. “It’s from my planet.”

“It takes like rocks,” Darvey said, spitting pebbles onto his plate.

“It kinda is. You eat it with a cream paste.”

“No thanks,” he said, and dropped the rest into the disposal chute.

Lucas finished pouring their drinks, and they all stood up, glasses in hand, and made a toast.

“To suicide!” Kaps shouted, and they all cheered, drank.

Darvey’s eyes opened wide when he tasted it. He looked to Lucas.

“Rum?” he asked. “How did you…”

“Pure ethanol is not good for you,” Lucas said. “For long-term alcoholism, I would recommend this instead.”

They talked and laughed and ate for hours, until sometime in the middle of the night, Darvey started to see the echoes of his wife around the edge of the room, and Kaps fell off his chair, too drunk to stand.

“Everybody,” Aphid said, stumbling into the sludge machine with her cup in her hand, “I have a confession to make.”

“Confession!” cheered the group, a little less in sync than before.

“I laced the food with oda juice, so we can all have a great time tonight.”

“Aphid!” said Jyi, scolding but not too seriously. “That’s… that’s illegal, you know!”

“So arrest me!” laughed Aphid. “If you can!”

“The lights are expanding!” wailed Kaps from the floor. “They’re getting bigger and bigger and… whoa!”

“There are vines on the walls,” said Jyi, laying back in her chair. “And onto the ceiling. It’s so pretty.”

Aphid looked to Lucas.

“Lucas?”

“I see god,” he said. “Though that is not because of the food.”

Everyone laughed, and Aphid turned to Darvey.

“What do you see, biped? Tell me, tell me!”

Darvey looked across the room, saw Lisa smiling at him, waiting for him to come to bed, and he sighed.

“Nothing real,” he said. He turned to Aphid.

“How about you?”

She clicked happily, stood up straighter.

“Well,” she began…

And the sludge machine exploded, blowing a hole in the ship.