Chaos Cipher (57 page)

-41-

O
micron
was
host to some of the galaxy’s most uniquely established clubs, most
popular of which was known as Solar Reef. Before hitting the club,
Scuttle and Kelly had their hair cells grown back and trimmed at
the lower deck bio-salon. Caspian made the largest fuss about
having his original dreads re-seamed. Vanity was a costly affair
on
Omicron
and
business in the area of proto-genetic modifiers and bio-salons
profiteered immensely and would continue to do so until the
decontamination law changed. Despite the lack of evidence of deadly
tardigrades rumoured to be around this place, there was no sign of
changing the law, business was business Kelly suspected. The lie
served the station’s economy. When the salons told Caspian it would
be easier to simply regenerate the hair cells and dread them again,
he emphasised the importance of having the originals put in no
matter what the cost.

‘
Put some
sporo intu fixin me dreids an dun’t skip on de eye brows, ghot
eet?’

Kelly was
glad to have her long dark hair back. She had it trimmed around the
edges, thinned then straightened, giving it an ascendant vigour,
and although she’d packed a more elegant dress in preparation for
the Solar Reef, she had to fall back on something a little less
tantalising due to a problem with their baggage being transported
from the axel docking sphere. Instead, it was The Royal Twilight’s
wardrobe that provided her evening’s attire. The get up wasn’t bad,
either. The collar was a reflective black material which raced
under her arms to join a segment of blue fabric that ran to her
sleeve. The blue material changed in density as it moved to her
wrists, becoming less visible until it was faint and almost
transparent. From her bosom ran a slanted strip of white velvet
which hid the front zip, and raced around to her side, flapping
over her leg and navy velvet skirt. Her leggings were dark and she
wore nano-smart white shoes which enclosed around her ankles the
moment she stepped into them, and the heels adjusted to her walk,
intelligent AI systems working to support her stride.

It had been
years since she’d had to wear something so sumptuous. She analysed
her reflection and frowned as she turned to her side. Her belly was
still not quite how she would like it, that post-pregnancy fat and
middle age weight was starting to show even in the dress. Floating
around in micro-gravity, it’s hard for a girl to get in a good work
out. She sighed about her hips too and switched off the reflection
feedback promptly, realising she wasn’t twenty-five
anymore.

Caspian wore
what he liked to call his business rags, an attire that didn’t
quite convey the qualities of either a business man nor a
Celestial-Shuttle Captain. He claimed to always give an impression
of his character to let his associates know he carried things out
professionally and didn’t take any slack, but he never had a knack
for appearances. The red leather jacket and black shirt should have
them fooled, he thought, chillaxed enough but looking alert.
Scuttle didn’t bother to change. The available suit in the wardrobe
was far too big and he didn’t appreciate the one on offer in The
Royal Twilight’s alternative stock. He kept his standard eccentric
oil stained clothing and kept the eye goggles around his head,
hoping the club’s laser lights would make them worth bringing
out.

From inside
the Solar Reef Bar, music pumped through the hollows of their
lungs. Sub sonic infra sound speakers sent waves of ecstasy through
the dance floor, hypnotising the dancers in their hundreds, like
captivated serpents entranced to an Indian snake charmer. The
club’s main entrance channelled in crowds of people, isolating
those without VIP access and rooting them to lower levels of the
club. Caspian and Kelly strolled through the glass turn-gate,
allowing them to pass into the red lights and green lasers.
Scuttle, however, was isolated behind them. He hammered his fist on
the glass.

‘
Hey! HEY!
What the hell, man!’

Kelly grabbed
Caspian by the shoulder and spun him around to see Scuttle. The
turn doors continued to wheel and revolved him out of the club
again.

‘
Hey, what’s
the deal, ownes?’ Caspian called.

‘
Subject
Lukas Bruce denied access according to article two; appropriate
dress code for VIP lounge access and lower dance floor.’ The
computer system explained.

Caspian
looked over his shoulders to find where the voice was emanating
from. Kelly directed him to a human sized hologram hovering by the
door. The man was dressed in a smart looking tuxedo, his face
slightly plump, a drawn moustache trimmed under his round buttoned
nose. The caricature smiled broadly and bowed his head. ‘Is there
anything else I can help you with?’

‘
Look er,’
said Caspian, pointing at the animated hologram. ‘Choon me in,
what’s cutting ere?’

The hologram
elaborated a quizzical expression. ‘May I direct you to the hotel’s
query desk?’

‘
He asked you
what’s going on.’ Kelly reported, joining Caspian’s
side.

‘
S’what I
sed, yer nut much of a boffin for ah computer.’

‘
Suitable
attire must be required for all sections of the Solar Reef Bar, for
sections where casual clothing is acceptable Lukas Bruce can find
entertainment within the Grill and Billiards bar, sublevel
three.’

‘
What’s he
saying?’ Scuttle’ muted voice moaned through the fogged
glass.

‘
Cut to da
Grill and Billiards bar, weil see yew der…’

‘
Wait
Caspian, hang on…what about you two?’

‘
Scuttle, eez
okay, boetie. This place is pomping but yew aint ghot de rigs. So
wi jes ghon meet yew leetah,’ Caspian explained with a smug and
irritating smirk, adding a playful wink.

‘
Chillax
Scuttle,’ Kelly bawled with a wide and teasing smile. ‘Go play,
meet some people. We’ll see you later…’

‘
What…? What
the heck do you mean go play? Wait up, ey! Don’t you tell me to
chillax! Look! Look I’m good!’ And Scuttle altered the programming
on his opticidyne shirt to turn it into a tuxedo style, which
looked incongruous with his oil-stained denim shorts and utility
belt. ‘See…I’m good! Wait! Let me in! Ah-Shitterbugs!’

Caspian
propped his arm over Kelly’s shoulder as they vanished into the
contrast of dark shadows, red and verditer glows of light. Scuttle
pounded his fist against the hard glass and huffed
aggressively.

‘I need to
get me some new friends, you guys suck!’

*

A thin mist
curled through the Solar Reef Bar, emerald lasers lashing through
the swirls as sonic waves stirred the air. Both men and women
dancers elevated on their podiums in the murk sultry environment,
they gyrated, pressed against their poles, sliding up and down in
sinuous motion with the music.

Debutantes in
elegant dress pootled the upper platforms and walkways beside slim
and urbane partners, supping from their small glasses of potent
alcohol and smiling invitingly at passers-by. They were mostly
successful and rich, vacationing by the romantic vistas of Jupiter
before visiting the icy seas of Europa. Some of them came to make
deals with wealthy traders, others came for opportunity; to meet a
deep space traveller or, if lucky enough, a member of the Syridan
Alliance Orbital Guard’s Starmada. Caspian turned several heads as
he eyed up the women. His stare remained obvious as he openly
lusted at them. Kelly picked through the various men, each one
fitted to an imagined occupation according to her judgement. She
thought the bigger ones with the short hair and T-shirts were more
likely manual labourers in space flight, the spanners or engineers
and mineral drillers on rotational shifts from Callisto. Then,
there were the middle weights, harder to judge. They were the men
who occupied several vocations from politics to scholarships or
apprentices of star-flights. Mostly, she decided, they were
probably
Omicron
inhabitants working to facilitate the station’s development.
Otherwise, the quantum accountants and data-stream managers, high
powered jobs, poorly paid with ample pressure, short term positions
on the fringes of make or break; they always looked shaky. She knew
Caspian wasn’t bothered much by a woman’s occupation; he’d scarcely
flinched when she’d told him she was a Celestial Captain herself.
Even now that vacant expression told her he was thinking about
breast size more than character.

They soon
reached the bar.

A strong
smell of absinthe made their mouths water and gave them the taste
for debauchery. A quick selection menu opened up in front of them
and they glared soberly at the holographic screen.

‘
Whuch ye
haivinke?’ Caspian shouted.

‘
I’ll have a
bourbon,’ she smiled cordially.

‘
A bourbon
ah? Dope!’

He ordered
two double measures from the screen, which quickly dissipated in
the mist once the selection was completed. The fibre-plastic gears
and polymer mechanisms whirred into action, as light mass robotic
arms started to assemble two glasses onto the table. The robots
slid on green glowing rails, shooting along the bar to meet them,
fingers rotating to the appropriate digit, pouring golden liquid
from the tip, the correct volume scrutinised from pressure valves.
The light weight fibre-plastic arms folded neatly and quickly away,
shooting back along the rails to the next customer, the only
evidence of their existence left sitting in transparent tumblers,
as the menu screen restored for the next user.

‘
Chiyes!’
said Caspian picking up his drink.

She took her
glass and they linked their drinking arms, spilling the shots back
quickly. The plastic glasses slammed back down on the table top,
which tilted away to collect behind the automated bar.

Now it’s onto
business, they needed to find their dealer. Caspian was looking for
a man called Jerrus Armelius, a component trader for drilling
hardware. The particular kind of drilling equipment on Callisto is
state of the art, comparable to nothing that has been manufactured
on Earth, a marvel of quality engineering. Acquiring these
components was his duty and he wanted to be the first on the market
with them and promised himself he would be. Had it not been for his
pilot, Pawel, he may never have even considered the
Omicron
proposal.

Caspian
looked casually among the sea of heads.

‘
So,’ said
Kelly, ‘this…Jerrus Armelius fellow, where’s he from?’

‘
Ee’s
American.’

‘
A
yank?’

‘
Whut’s da
matter, ahh? Yer happy to taist their bourbon butchye bung fir
doing business wi’em?’

‘
I’m not bung
about doing business with an American,’ Kelly jeered, ‘I’m
concerned about our bargaining agreement. For instance, I know you
quite well Caspian, and you are a gambling man. If you can swindle
a yank you probably will. I just don’t want you getting ahead of
yourself.’

‘
Whuchye
rappin’ on abowt?’

‘
You’re going
to hustle him out of a small fortune, aren’t you?’

‘
Eef yew mein
am gonna dobbel then you’re dead roite!’

‘
You know,
he’s probably going to be offended if you disappoint him with a
price. As far as I am aware you draw him out by agreeing on a set
price and now you’re going to try and haggle with him. You realise
it’s going to really piss him off, don’t you?’

‘
Look
chillax, aah! I know what I’m doing, ek-se?’

‘
And did you
tell him what we’re really after?’ she asked, ‘he may not have
agreed to come out here, if it is the case. Black alloy isn’t
something people just cart around.’

During their
conversation, Caspian noticed a young woman had glided over to
them. Estelle was very aware of the lascivious reputation of
prospectus space captains like Caspian in these areas, however,
despite her apparent pulchritude she had decidedly dressed modestly
for their meeting. Her jet black hair curled and bunched at the
back but draped freely at the front and sides, shining with texture
that Caspian had only seen in digi-holographic-suites. She was
wearing a resplendent black and rouge blouse, embroidered with
silver dapples and optical sequins, which bunched around the
breasts and dark pants that led down her long legs into her high
heel boots. Her ebony arms, long neck and shoulders were the only
exposures, and around her shoulders and arms she wore a classy
light net material that tied around her elbows and thread to drape
behind her back.

‘
Captain
Mowser,’ she asked with a vampish modus operandi.

‘
I am,’
Caspian smiled, straightening his back.

Kelly tilted
her head from behind the illustrious woman to peer at him over her
shoulder, so Caspian could see her mouthing some irate blasphemy
and bunch her stretchy fingers into fists. Kelly didn’t appreciate
being ignored, especially on terms of business that related to her
starnavis.