“I hear all Humans in Alpha are nearly dark as space, but here they are just brown. You are dark, like them. Are you from Alpha?” Bor asked.
“No, but I want to go. I’d fit right in. They say it has something to do with the two suns. Brown is good, but the darker the better.” That much was the truth. She’d spent many nights dreaming going to Alpha, but that was true of most that lived on Arys-27.
By providing a means to keep the communication open between them, Betta was able to set up a link to his black-market account. This simple piggy-back allowed her to access any information he’d recently viewed. Pretending to clean her goggles, Betta studied the information that ran across the visual indicators and tried not to panic.
It was internal chatter on the darkNet that there was an Operator known as the Black Tiger who was responsible for the decline in black-market goods. They listed her as an android with dark skin tone. In this sector of space, it was rare to see any complexion that wasn’t a light brown. In the eyes of the darkNet, her “makers” made Betta unique in appearance to highlight her capacity to identify black market dealers at a glance.
If she let on that she was from Old Earth, it would be too easy to make the connection. A little voice in her head told her she should have left her mask on. It was too late for that now. The only play she really had was to be Lucky.
Since she was a kid, Betta spent most of her free time looking over computer monitors, scanning databases, surfing the Net, both light and dark. She had tried to make friends with her fellow recruits, but none of them were interested, and after the first cycle of recruits were made into cyborgs, her desire to make friends vanished. The agents, while emotionally stunted, were still engaging. They derived joy from tactical games and theory, and Betta learned that she also enjoyed these games, both in real life and through virtual exercises. Whatever happened in that android box nearly a decade ago gave her rapid-fire responses to any type of intellectual stimuli.
The feds diet consisted of vitamin enriched drinks that sustained their bodies, both artificial and natural. They adjusted this diet for the recruits. Their efforts went as far as two meals. A nutrient tea for the morning and a sweet nutrient shake in the evenings.
Being out in the field meant she could go through her food list and choose an item. She’d already accessed the menu for Lyten items in her head so that she could choose the right dish. Betta suspected, and hoped, her new companion would take her to an establishment where there was alcohol and food.
Betta never had the pangs of hunger, an added feature of the nutrient drinks. Even so, she would look over dishes on the Net and she would make a list for herself of foods to try when she was able to be free of the feds. Pasta dishes appealed to her the most, and sweet cakes, especially of the chocolate and fudge variety. At least they looked to be delicious when she watched people in vids enjoying them.
Betta’s mnemonics came into play now as thousands of possibilities presented themselves. Everything made a list in her head. She had lists of lists. She had a list for the agents that had large noses, the ones that twitched when they were uploaded with a new tactical experience, and the ones that smelled odd. It was a mechanical smell, like of burning plastic, or oxidized metal. That list was uploaded and updated in the federal archives. Feds, though cyborgs, were sometimes slaves to diagnostic routines that failed to capture superficial or low-level corrosion. Couple that with suppressed cybernetic sensation and there were bound to be a drawback or two.
“Now!” growled Bor, and the two rose just as the glider came to a stop. Betta returned her mask to her face and signed out the console. The doors gasped open and they exited into a smog-filled street.
Bor’s grip on her forearm was tight, and she could feel the claws beneath his gloved hands digging into her overcoat.
Betta’s own equipment was only standard for Arys-27 and not meant to go into the deeper pockets of Orange Sector. Blindly, she allowed Bor to guide her over uneven pavement and damp earth, until they reached their destination.
It occurred to her that the natural response to being blindly led by a large bear though unfamiliar territory should be unsettling. All she felt was excitement. She was thrilled at being on the outside and in the middle of a great adventure.
There was increased chatter in her ears. Most likely, the feds were communicating her location. Betta couldn’t see anything, though she could tell they were no longer outside. They’d entered a building, and when she reached for her mask, a heavier hand stopped her.
“We do not deal with false traders. If you deceive us, we will find you, kill you and your closest family members. We will let you walk away now if you have reconsidered working with us.” Though the tones of the voice were low, Betta could tell it was female. Her mind went through a list of known female Lyten citizens on Arys-27. There were ten on her list. Eight were employed in mining firms and two were proprietors. One owned a bar in Orange district, The Tabor. The other owned a fuel depot in the green district.
Betta deduced that she was listening to the words of Jalys al Gym and that she’d been dragged into The Tabor.
Betta pulled the gear free from her face and the sound of pumping oxygen tanks hissed to a stop.
The bar was empty of patrons, evidenced by the dozens of empty tables and chairs that populated the main floor. The bar was a long one and the many bottles behind it held several varieties that made Betta wet her lips in anticipation. Her mind stored their names and brands, linking list after list.
Finally, her eyes turned to the bear humanoid that sat behind the table, her muzzle non-threatening, meaning her teeth were hidden. She was sleek, with blue fur that was well-kept and spoke of hours of grooming with its smooth arcs. Her light brown eyes were steady and they studied one another for some time. Betta could see recognition in the eyes and she knew it wouldn’t be long before a move was made. This was always a risk. There were approximately 34 dark-skinned female Humans on Arys-27. Betta had hoped that number was high enough to allow her to slip through unrecognized. This, it would seem, was not the case.
Jalys broke the silence, her muzzle showing teeth that was followed by a low growl.
“Wait!” Betta raised a hand. “You know who I am and I know who you are. I also know about tomorrow night’s shipment of 29 crates that are unregistered. At least, I think it’s 29 crates given the weight distribution on the hauler on dock 842. Based on the shielding and the frequency it’s operating at, I suspect they might hold stasis pods.”
Several growls erupted behind Betta, but she kept her eyes on the blue bear sitting in front of her.
“You’re the Black Tiger,” Jalys accused.
Betta smirked. “I really do like that nickname. Yes. I work for the feds, and no, I don’t have any off-federation deuterium to trade. What I have to trade is your hauler for information and certain agreements.”
“Do you know the bounty on your head? Why would the feds put you right in front of me with no guards, no support—”
“I always have support,” Betta said. “Look, before we really get down to business, do you think you could make me a Cosmo?”
They both looked to the empty bar.
“I’ve never had one and you have all the ingredients. I could make it myself, but I’d rather an expert—”
“You want a drink?”
“That’s not the trade or agreement. It’s just a personal favor I’m asking.”
“A personal favor? What will you give me for this personal favor?” Jalys was waving her clawed hands at someone behind Betta, possibly a sniper.
“Technically, it benefits us both. First, it helps deescalate this whole situation. Second, we both will be more relaxed after a Cosmo. Coming to terms will be far easier.”