Chapter 19Coincidences
//
SPATIAL
CHECK //
>
DATE:
16.03.7088
>
TIME:
18:21:09
UST
(UNIVERSAL
STANDARD TIME)
// LOCATION TRIANGULATION //
> SYSTEM: INTERSTELLAR SPACE
>>
BODY: nil
>>> SETTLEMENT:
WAYSTATION #0085
>>>>
LOCAL: THE
LOTUS ROOT
Az
immediately clocked Jake
who
gave him a
lazy
salute as
he pushed
through the swinging glass doors of the Lotus Root pub. The doors
were
painted
with a
Lotus flower,
coloured a faded
magenta
with a black outline. A
small sticker had been stuck in the upper corner of the door, marking
it as an
establishment owned by the ‘Senti Foundation’.
Az
ran his eyes over every surface, even glancing at the ceiling. The
layout of the venue was
a standard, seedy port-side dive; a cluttered floor of tables, a
well-stocked bar guarding the back wall, and a series of heavy
emergency roller doors coiled in the ceiling.
The
smell was
a
pungent
mix of old booze,
various
fuel fumes,
and unwashed bodies
that
made
his nostrils flare.
But
most importantly,
there was no underlying smell of urine, which put The Lotus Root in
the top ten percent of establishments he
frequented.
He
tried to spot the familiar face of Boron from behind the bar, but
seemed the majordomo was either tending to kitchen chaos or the
exclusive Dark Lotus suites upstairs.
The
place was only half-full for early evening, standard
server droids on mono-wheels rolled left and right.
While a small crowd near the stage acted lively, the rest of the
patrons, mostly mercenaries,
were
uncharacteristically dour. A couple
of the
tables
were filled with rowdy men in stained port uniforms, celebrating an
early shift end. Further back, the tables were occupied by the sullen
and the silent, lone drinkers glaring at holographic displays or
anyone who wandered too close.
Az
ignored the stares,
sliding into the
high-backed booth on the left
wall, sitting
in Jake’s spot as the larger man slid out to get more drinks from
the bar. He appreciated the
clear line of sight to the entrance.
He raised
an eyebrow at the woman in front of him, slumped over playing with a
tumbler filled with clear liquid.
“Hey,
Sniper-bitch. Never seen you with a cup still full of gin.”
“Cause-it’s-not,”
Carla slurred out, not because she was drunk, but because she was
pouting. Her
face rested heavily against the table, muffling her words.
“Fucking water. Boring, bullshit, bottled water.”
“Why?”
Az asked, his brow furrowed. “You avoid hydrating like smallpox.”
“New
kidneys,” Carla bemoaned, cut off as Jake
came back loaded with drinks, expertly balancing them all in his
hands. A floating tray brought Carla a jug of water and a cup,
causing
her to flop
to her other side and groan more.
“Stop
your belly-aching,” Jake gruffly chided her, setting down the
drinks and setting a brightly coloured mocktail in front of her.
“Non-alcoholic, no spiking, no poisons, paid extra. ”
Carla
pouted but accepted the drink, tapping
her Slate on the table to
signal
she would
pay
him back.
Jake
slid
in
next to Az, giving him a raised eyebrow when he scratched his back
with a grimace. “You look more sour than usual. Did
your
‘family visit’ not go to plan?”
Az
scowled, looking away before muttering, “I
don’t want to talk about it.”
Carla
perked up. “What, job
didn’t go well?”
Az
rubbed his clean-shaven chin, thinking back on his
‘solo’ job, no
point pretending it was a ‘family visit’.
“Job was easy. Crew
got sick from
the water.
Got
stuck with the heavy lifting.”
Carla
scoffed, setting down her bright drink. “Tell
me
about it.
I got
sick too.
I was hallucinating for three days.”
“Don’t
forget the organ failure,” Jake groused, sipping his Ceti-vat beer.
“And the ‘mild poisoning’, and the paranoia, and…”
“Wait.”
Az lowered his glass, his movement arresting in its sudden stillness.
“You guys
took a hit? How? You have wills
like garbage compactors, don’t
stop for nothing.”
“How
did you not?!” Jake growled. “Didn’t drink water for a week?”
“I
drank liquid nutrient shakes.” Az leaned forward on the table
smirking. “Space travel’s murder on the muscles don’t you
know.”
Carla
paused, looking at the vivid liquids in front of her, as if using the
colours
to remember the event.
“Someone
spiked my drink back the The
Volts, on Kelara.
I didn’t even feel a
pill
or taste it.”
Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author's preferred platform and support their work!
“And
it gets
in the transport’s water supply, that’s how I got poisoned,
not
as bad as her but...”
Jake cut in before Carla continued.
“All I
remember was making out with a red-head and-”
Az’s
face went blank, masking
the suspicious
shock
into practised
indifference.
“Red-head? Do you
remember her name?”
“Uh,
no
but
I
think she was with that hot
gem
you left
with,”
Carla paused, her face scrunching up as she rapped her knuckles
against her forehead.
“I
tried
to kiss Jake, uh…”
Az
snorted, hiding his smile as Jake’s cheeks turned green at the
memory, downing
the rest of his beer.
The
smaller man
pulled himself together, the humour vanishing as quickly as it came,
his
eyes watching
Carla carefully
as he pivoted the conversation.
“How
bad did it get? How did it feel?”
“Eurgh,
felt
like I was
being waterboarded.
I couldn’t understand what people were saying, and I felt… fluid.
It was weird.” Carla took another sip, looking up at the ceiling.
“I had it easy, I only lost my kidneys. Fifty-two
dead as of this morning.”
Az
ran a hand over his mouth, casting an eye across the rest of the pub,
thinking
back to the grey lump in the access hall.
A server droid on
a mono-wheel rolled
up
to
their table
and bowed
slightly.
“Please
be advised. The Lotus Root will be closing doors at 8pm for curfew.
If you require accommodations as Dark Lotus agents, please come to
the bar and present your badges. Higher
ranks are prioritised.”
They
all groaned. Az quickly said
his thanks and acknowledgement to the droid so it moved on to the
next table, another chorus of groans rippling
through the room a minute later.
“They’re
really freaking out about this, huh.” Carla couldn’t help but
moan, loudly slurping the dregs of her drink.
“Fifty-two
dead in
the ,”
Jake deadpanned. “And that’s those that made it. Who knows how
many are actually dead in space and we won’t ever know.”
A
heavy silence settled over the booth. Az ran a thumb over the
condensation on his glass, lost
in his thoughts on
long legs and breathy sighs.
“Okay,
that’s enough doom and gloom,” Carla announced, slamming her
empty glass down. She pointed a finger at Az, her mechanical eye
whirring as it zoomed in on him. “Speaking of that night at The
Volts... I need to know.”
Az
blinked, pulled from his thoughts, his
jaw tight.
“What?”
“The
girl, Az. The tall one with the
legs
and the expensive dress.” Carla grinned, leaning over the table.
“You disappeared with her right before I started hearing
the ocean.
So? Did you seal the deal before the Core
came
to collect,
or did you strike out?”
Az
chuckled, trying to keep the smile out of his eyes, his tone forced
into indifference. He rubbed his neck, drawing his nails along the
skin.
"Yeah,
she was... nice." He traced the condensation on the glass again,
letting his mind drift.
The
silence at the table stretched. It wasn't until he moved to take a
sip that he noticed his squadmates' looks; flat, analytical, and
entirely unconvinced.
“What?!”
he snapped, the glass clicking against his teeth.
"That's
it? 'She was nice'?" Jake prodded. "I’ve seen you
describe a high-yield explosive as 'nice', Az. Never a woman."
Az
felt the trap closing and immediately overstepped to break it. "The
fuck else you want? Yeah, Melinda
Abbot.
She
brought me back to her ship, used me until she got her fill, then
kicked me out like a supernova that ran out of fuel." He leaned
back, a bored shrug masking the way his pulse was beginning to thrum.
"It was fun, for one night. Maybe she's a statistic by now,
maybe she's fine. End of story."
Jake was
staring at him with a knowing look, Carla was leaning forward on her
elbows, drinking in every word he was saying.
“What?!”
he hissed, not liking their looks.
It
was Jake who answered, smiling widely. “You remembered her ?”
Az took a
slow, deliberate pull of his drink to hide the hesitation.“It
happens on occasion.”
“No,
it doesn’t,” Carla teased
in a
sing-song
voice,
her smile catty.
“Not
just her first name, her
too,” Jake
continued, smirking into his drink. “And you always complain that a
girl taps out before you do.”
“I hate
you two, fucking Sniffers.” Az mumbled into his drink, not looking
at them.
“Next
you’ll tell us you totally didn’t take a trophy.” Carla leaned
even more on the table, drinking in Az’s subtle annoyance. And
subsequently squealed when her bionic eye saw his jaw twitch at her
jab. “You so did!”
“I did
not!”
“Did too!
What was it? Her underwear?”
“No!”
“Oh by
the void, it was her bra, wasn’t it?”
“She
wasn’t- Carla, I’m warning you, drop it!”
“I’ll
leave you alone if you tell me what you took.”
Jake
was
ignoring
them both, chuckling
to himself, secretly
vowing to share this tidbit with Miller when he sees him next.
Az
saw from the corner of his eye that the burly man relaxed
into the booth. His
head facing the bar and entrance,
his
attention snagged by something as
Az and Carla bickered.
Jake
suddenly snapped his fingers in front of their faces to stop the back
and forth, signalling towards the swinging doors.
A
figure in an oversized, sweat-soaked hoodie pushed their way in, an
accompanying smell of hospital-grade sanitiser cutting through
the stale air near the entrance.
The hood was
so
large it hid half their face, revealing only pale, plump lips parted
while panting.
The
pants were similarly oversized, held up by a wire. The figure was
barefoot, leaving wet
footprints in their wake, their
form hunched as they held an arm around their middle.
The
pub went silent, even the music playing in the background died
off.
Every patron had their eye on the newcomer, who didn’t hesitate to
limp
heavily
to
the bar
and
clutch the edge of the counter
with white-knuckled desperation before sliding onto a stool. Their
spine curved as if protecting a core that was barely holding
together.
Everyone
eyed
the stranger carefully. A
small cleaner bot jetted out from a
small
hole in the wall, darting straight to the new mess. The new arrival
slumped over on the bar, wrapping their head in their arms.
The
bartender, Boron,
emerged
from an archway leading to the kitchens. Scanned the patrons before
settling its gaze on the hunched form at the counter. It approached
her, the
high-end
unit
was the
same
Three-Zero model, though this one was
dressed in a flannel shirt and a spotless
apron.
The white, gold-filigreed mask had long been snapped in half,
revealing the alien circuitry underneath.
“Miss,”
the tone was polite
but firm, the modulation smooth. The
condescending tone absent from this one.
“I am
afraid
you have to leave. The establishment
is-”
The
woman groaned in pain, pulling back her hood with
trembling hands.
Wild
brown curls sprang out, brown eyes glassy but focused.
Az
had his drink pressed to his lips, staring with bored attention until
the hood fell back. The glass clicked sharply against his teeth as
his jaw locked. He choked on the corn liqueur, the burn in his throat
nothing compared to the shock of seeing his
‘supernova’ in the middle of a station
pub.
Wearing
the same pile
of rags
he dismissed in the lower halls.
