In the previous episode, Claude and Salindra make it to a Spaceliner after only a few hours at the safe house. Unknown to them, Conrad knows where they are and makes plans to catch them. After all, where can they hide while stuck on a ship in space?
Cyborg Claude Main Page and Table of Contents
Claude exited their spaceliner suite and looked in both directions of the long hallway. The door clicked shut while he decided which way to go. Something should entertain him on the main decks.
Salindra had herself cooped up in her room. He always had to knock when her room service arrived. She did not come out often. How could she stand it with a chance to mingle after days alone in the field? Maybe it had been too long. He knew agents like that and got accused of knowing nothing but fieldwork himself. He smirked and headed to his left.
Halfway to the nearest stairwell, the quiet whoosh of a door opening came from behind him. He glanced over his shoulder, hoping Salindra had changed her mind. He sighed. It was further down, though he paused to check out the woman. Her leather dress rode dangerously high up her leg and she turned his way to reveal she did not have the front zipper much higher than her naval. She had the figure for such attire. She would find attention whether she wanted it or not.
He pried his gaze away and continued to the stairwell. He had got caught looking. A chuckle escaped him while he jogged easily up the steps, his heavy boots thudding quietly on the carpeted steps. A couple days of staying cooped up himself, had let the biotech heal most of his wound.
Two flights up, he stepped into a marbled foyer that led from the stairs and elevators to a brightly lit concourse. Lights flashed and signs beckoned him into various clubs and shops. Space liners had a nonstop life of drink, food, gambling, and sex. Once an hour out of port, anything went. He strolled along, taking in the sights with armed space liner guards in the mix. The space liners had some laws and their own security to maintain it, but most of the time security played the job of bouncer for the rowdy clubs.
He stopped and read a menu board outside a restaurant so he could take a glance behind him. The back of his neck tingled as if someone watched. Hundreds of people milled about the concourse. Then he saw the woman in the seductive dress. He returned to reading the menu, but had to glance again, only to chuckle at himself. She was still there, but so were several other scantily dressed women. Something stood out about the one in leather, however. He could not put his finger on it.
Nothing caught his eye on the menu, but it had only been two hours since he ate. He needed something to occupy himself with before he went stir crazy. His gaze wandered along the concourse until he spotted a billiards sign. That would do nicely.
Smoke swirled lazily about the place. He walked around some tables and stood by the wall near where some burly men in leather played a game and jovially busted on each other. The familiarity of Droeken Armada personnel on leave helped him relax.
Breathing in the smoke caused the craving for a cigarette, something he had gone without for several weeks.
A slim hand held up a cigarette before him. He took it while his gaze shifted to the woman’s face. Not his favorite kind, but at least it came from Droeken. She flicked a lighter to life. Needing to fix his craving, he put the cigarette in his mouth and lit it up. He enjoyed the first slow draw.
She shifted closer. He received a view of what she barely hid in the dress that clung to her curves. “I thought you might like one.” Her voice stayed at a low purr, just loud enough for him to hear. “I saw you in the hallway and couldn’t resist following you.”
Claude visualized Salindra in that outfit and distracted himself quickly by taking another puff on the cigarette. Even out here with this woman nearly hanging all over him, he could not stop thinking about the one cooped up in her room with her computer.
She pressed against him seductively. He smirked because it reminded him of his first thought about her back in the hallway. Wrapping an arm around her tightly, brought them nose to nose. He gazed into her green eyes.
“And why couldn’t you resist?”
Her gaze darted toward the door.
His hand slid down her back to the curve of her buttocks, which he gave a firm squeeze. She did not flinch, but her eyes narrowed and her seductive smile disappeared.
“Did you think I would be a nice guy?” That struck a nerve because she stiffened.
She drew herself up and planted a hard kiss on his lips. He joined in only to see what she would do. Her forwardness went too far. He forced himself away first, while alarm bells rang in his head. This game had become a dangerous one and he could not figure out what troubled him about this woman.
“You proved to be exactly what I expected.” Her seductive smile and self assurance had returned. She leaned against him without the help of the one armed hold he still had on her. “I could use a drink.”
“That can be remedied.” He led her across the room to the bar. “What’s your poison?”
“Anything that will make me feel less hot.” She drawled out the last couple of words and tugged on her dress. “Of course, you might want to get me drunk on purpose.” She wagged a finger at him. “I will drink you under the table if you try that.”
“Oh, really.” He dragged a puff from his cigarette, wondering how this woman that knew nothing about him could determine she would win a drinking contest. “You catch me at the disadvantage of being bored, so I accept your challenge.” He would figure her out.
She grinned and turned to the bartender. “Shot glasses and Zen Clear. I’m proving men aren’t the only ones that can drink.”
Her accent grated on him despite her near fluent galactic trade language. He watched the clear liquid pour into his shot glass and then hers. He should stay sober, but here he sat. At least he should have the advantage because of the biomechanics added to his system a few years ago. He frowned, not wanting to think about the real reason that had happened, even if he appreciated the outcome.
“Feeling like you got into something bad?” She raised her glass and smiled.
“Definitely. Any challenge from a woman leads to a man’s disaster.” He chuckled and winked at her. He clinked his shot glass against hers. “I’ll win.” He downed his shot and slammed the glass face down on the bar.
“But if you know this, then you are a fool for accepting.” She threw back her shot and set her shot glass down as if precisely placing it where she wanted. “Neither of us has the advantage of knowing one another in this one.”
Shot number two slid down his throat with a burning sensation. “Though I have a feeling, you picked me on purpose and not just because you saw me in the hallway.”
“Maybe, maybe not.” She set down her second shot glass neatly in line with the first one.
Four shots in, the liquor hit him, but as a sugar rush. The biotech broke it down fast.
She giggled nonstop and almost missed her mouth with the next drink.
The fifth made his stomach churn. He eyed her pyramid of shot glasses and watched a shaky hand try to put the fifth in place. A glance at the clock proved they had downed them in as many minutes. Boy, he would be sick soon at this rate and no closer to an answer.
She set the glass in place. “Yes.” Clapping about her success caused her to tilt dangerously on her stool.
Then the accent dawned on him. He glanced around, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. On impulse, he leaned close to her and whispered in Goeken. “You still think you can drink me under a table?”
“Yes. I will win.” She spoke fluent Goeken with a drunken slur and continued giggling.
“Of course you will this time.” He gave her a broad smile as he stood up, glad his knees had not turned to rubber, but a wave of dizziness hit him. A firm grip on the bar rail kept him on his feet until it passed. He switched back to trade language. “I think we’ll call it quits before you fall off your stool and out of your dress.”
She laughed, and so did many of the onlookers.
“Have fun.” He gave her a rather boisterous slap on the back and walked off without swaying, to the amazement of himself and maybe a few others. Clear Zen put many people down in short order and he knew he would have a headache to prove it soon enough.
He slipped into the men’s room, where he stopped at a sink to splash cold water on his face. His hands shook so badly he clenched them. The sugar rush had hit its peak. Some days, he wished he could have a normal hangover. He frowned at his image in the mirror.
“I’m getting too old for this stuff.” He snorted and rubbed his hands together because clenching them had not worked. He stepped to a hand drier that automatically started.
The door opened to let in a blonde man of average build. Claude could not see the man’s face in the mirror. The stiff bearing and close-cut hair reminded him of the military. He turned the blower to aim it at his wet face while he continued to glance in the mirror.
The woman had darted a glance at someone when their exchange began. She spoke Goeken all too well for his liking. He wanted excitement, now he had it, along with a good dose of paranoia. The dryer stopped, so he stepped in front of the mirror to comb his hair back in place with his fingers. His hand paused when he got a good profile view of the blonde.
The blonde smiled and said, “Remember me?” Even as he spoke, he whipped out a small gun he had hidden in his pocket.
Claude dove to the side. Something hit him in the side of the neck and his sight blurred. He watched the floor come up and meet him, unable to do anything. Biomechanics raced through his system. No pain flared, despite how hard he must have hit the floor. He blinked slowly and groaned. A hand grabbed him by the collar and struggled to lift his limp body.
The door opened and the man half carried, half dragged him through it. His attempt to protest came out as incoherent mumbles. He got his feet under himself, though most of his weight remained supported by the one who had just shot him.
“Is he okay?” The voice came from far away and was unfamiliar.
“He will be when he sobers up. He always was a daredevil.” The blonde man laughed.
Claude clung to the man while his sluggish brain worked to figure this all out. His entire body shook now. He groaned when his muscles added jerky spasms to the mix. His brain finally caught up while they headed down the concourse, leaving the billiards bar behind.
He had punched this man in the nose two days ago. This man had killed him once. The woman had picked him on purpose. He ground his teeth.
His body jerked them both to a halt.
“Easy there. We made it to the elevator. In no time, we’ll have you back in the room.”
Adrenalin rushed through Claude. He stiffened and planted his feet. “I am not going to your room when I don’t know who you are.” He glared at his adversary. He raised his voice. “You shot me with a tranquilizer or some type of stun on neutral territory.”
“You are drunk. Everyone saw you down those five shots of Zen Clear in as many minutes.” The blonde man raised a hand toward Claude’s face. “You fell in the bathroom because of it. That is going to be one nasty welt if we don’t get a medi-unit on it soon.”
Claude resisted the push toward the elevator. His stomach heaved. “I think I’m going to be sick.” He vomited up a nasty mix of stuff. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. “Now I feel much better.”
“How could you?” The blonde man backed up, holding his arms out as if afraid to touch the mess on his clothes. “This is the last time I let you have a drinking contest with our lady friend.”
“Our?” Claude shook his head, but stopped when it made him teeter without the other man’s support. “She confessed in public she didn’t know me and I know I don’t know her.” He leaned closer. “By the way, she speaks Goeken well when drunk. Not a very good field op if she lets herself give up who she is.”
“The same can be said about you.”
Claude’s body strengthened. The biomechanics never disappointed. “I knocked you out fair and square. You had to drug a drunk man to haul him away. You won’t get me on the elevator.” He waved a hand at the closing doors. He waved his other hand toward the two guards watching them. “The Space Liner Association doesn’t like Galactic Council and Universal Alliance confrontation on board. It would be best if you just shut up and admit you lost two days ago.”
Claude stumbled when another spasm hit. The nanobots or whatever helped his system had gone into overdrive to cleanse his system. His body relaxed with the purging completed.
“Sorry about the mess. I would go get your girlfriend before some drunken fool makes her fall out of that dress.”
He spun on a heel without a wave of dizziness and strode toward the guards that watched them. He nodded and continued into a large public rest room behind them. His stomach growled while he washed up and rinsed out his mouth. So much for the sugar high and the lunch he had earlier. Biotechnology had already broken down everything injected into his system, and now it wanted fuel again.
He sighed and looked at his watch. Only thirty minutes had passed since he left his room.
“Sir, I would like a word with you.”
Claude turned to face the guard at the door. “Is it about me vomiting on that man out there that was dragging me down the concourse?” He stood at ease with his wet hands where the guard could see them.
“Yes, sir. Do you know the man?”
“Only met him a couple of times. I don’t know his name.”
“Why did you let him drag you down the concourse?”
Claude chuckled and shook his head. “I was drunk. Vomiting on him made me feel better. I doubt I will ever drink Zen Clear again, no matter how pretty of a woman coaxes me into it.”
The guard laughed. “We will watch the two of you.”
“Fine by me. I hope I don’t have to see his face again.” Claude stepped toward the door. “May I go find something to eat now?”
“Sure.” The guard stepped out of the way, but gave him a quizzical look.
Claude nodded politely before slipping out the door. He relaxed when he could not spot the man or the woman.
The scent of grilled beef caught his attention, so he followed it to a restaurant that looked clean and quiet. Within minutes, he had a private booth in a corner, a pack of cigarettes with one of them lit for him, a glass of water and warm rolls with butter. He devoured a roll with a good portion of butter before resuming his smoke.
While he perused the menu, someone slipped into the booth with him. He lowered the menu to reveal the face of a beauty with dark eyes, one he knew better than any. He arched his brows at Min.
She leaned across the table. “The bird has been freed with no trace, but the cat still seeks.”
He took a moment to translate the language of the Zen Free States. What was it with Zen in everything today? Even the current choices he resumed reading about came from the very planet this woman hailed from, along with that vile drink he had shot back like water. He laughed.
“If the bird is not in the cage and there is no sign of it ever being there, then why hunt me down to tell me about cats that already found me and failed?”
“Because you are a bird of another feather, which they should not know all of.”
He puffed on his cigarette a moment in thought. “The mocking bird would like to watch the cats and sing them distracting songs.” Not the best idea. They would never tell him how much they knew about him and his purpose on Goeken the last few weeks.
“That is a game not allowed at this time.”
She slipped a book of matches his way before sliding out of the booth.
The logo of the Zen Royal Space Yacht Club graced the cover. He flicked it open with a finger to find ‘3C’ written inside. He closed it and slipped it into his shirt pocket. At least she had not told him to skip his meal. His stomach growled loudly as the waiter reappeared. The devoured roll incited the need for more. He placed his order.
Can I get the bird out of the room and to the yacht without the neighboring cats catching on?
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Share your thoughts about the episode in the comments. Comments have already resulted in some minor fixes. Keep sharing, whether it is for something small or large, typo or thoughts on where you think the story should go. Thank you for reading and commenting.
One of my subscribers responding to the email. I had a typo. We both agreed homonyms can be pesky to find even with good editing tools. I had baring instead of bearing for when I said the blonde man entering the bathroom after Claude had a stiff bearing. I wonder how many others even noticed that upon reading before I made this fix. :)