Cyber Dreams 4.8 - Helping Out

Hi everyone! Thanks for your patience! Here's the next installment :)

As I've been writing this little arc, I keep thinking to myself that this might feel frustrating to a reader, but I know where it's going, and . . . well, I won't spoil things, but please bear with me a couple more chapters. Still, I'd love to hear your feedback!

-Plum

When Juliet sat down in the bar of the Stargazer Lounge that evening, she was dressed in something that sort of resembled one of the suits she’d bought when she’d prepared for the job at Grave. After she’d finished her swim around lunchtime, she’d done a little shopping in the boutiques, spending, if you asked her, a few hundred too many bits. She’d wanted to buy something really nice, like a slinky, shimmering dress that exposed her back, but then she’d thought about what kind of shoes she’d have to wear with it and then wondered what it would be like if she had to run in an outfit like that or, worse, fight in it.

After some shopping around and a consultation with a salesperson or two, she’d settled for some slender, silky, turquoise slacks and a satiny, cream-colored blouse. The sales lady had convinced her to buy some ridiculously overpriced, genuine-leather Karmin Kiss “kitten heels.” As the name implied, the heel was small, and the woman insisted they were comfortable and practical while also “oozing style.” Juliet had never been a fancy shoe person, so the terminology was all new to her, but she had to admit she enjoyed how light and comfortable they felt when she wore them.

She felt pretty, elegant, and confident as she sat in the softly illuminated booth, watching as Eve served drinks to a few customers sitting up at the bar. The restaurant was busier than the day before when she’d had lunch; nearly every table was occupied, and many waitstaff were working as opposed to just Len. Still, it looked like Eve was in charge of the bar area, and when she saw Juliet, and they made eye contact, she smiled briefly before looking away.

“Are you going to . . .”

“Yes.” Juliet opened her mind, trying to be a little less open than the last time, trying to limit the voices to the ones nearby. She didn’t know how to do that; it was more an intention than a deliberate action—she didn’t have a “psionic muscle” that she knew of, so she didn’t know how to flex it a lot or a little. Still, as she began to receive thoughts and voices, and they began to clamor and create a din in her mind, she tried to pull back, to push away the majority of them, and to focus on the one she was looking for. It was almost as startling as when she’d knocked the beer glass over when it worked.

Why am I such an idiot? Why did I approach her in the pool? Why did I tell her to come to the bar? Oh, God! I’m totally burned. Do I fake sick? Do I bail? Should I get Tony to fill my shift? I need to . . . Shit! Mustache is staring again . . . did I forget his order?

Juliet exhaled slowly, trying to push away the thoughts crowding for attention again, and looked around, distracting her mind by subvocalizing, “Man, Angel, she is stressed out. She thinks she blew it by approaching me in the pool. I wonder if I can get her to be honest with me if I bluff a little . . .” She trailed off as Eve walked around the bar and approached her booth.

“Hey.” Juliet offered a short, shy wave. “I took you up on the invitation. Nothing else to do, you know? Kinda pathetic, I guess, coming on a cruise all alone like this.”

Eve looked at her with narrowed eyes for a second, then shrugged. “I’ve never been on a cruise unless I was working, so you’ve got me beat.”

“Pretty cool job, though. I bet you’ve seen a lot of sights most people can’t afford to take in. Don’t suppose you can sit down for a minute?”

“Sorry.” Eve bit her lower lip and looked around the bar. “I’m the only one in here right now. I’m working ‘til eleven, too. I can sure get you a drink, though—on the house. A welcome to the ship kinda thing.”

“Well,” Juliet paused, contemplating an idea that felt a little too bold but also like it might work. She decided to go for it; what did she really have to lose? This wasn’t an official job or anything. “I appreciate that. Maybe you could choose for me? I’m always ordering a beer. I don’t really know much about mixed drinks. Can you pick something good for me? Nothing too sweet?”

Eve’s smile looked more natural this time, and she nodded. “I’ll come up with something good. Be right back.” She turned, and Juliet watched her walk. She was graceful, but not in the way Honey was—she didn’t look like a fighter.

“More like a dancer,” she mused softly, and then, unbidden, began to hear Eve’s thoughts again:

Not too sweet? Was that a double entendre? Really? She wants me to surprise her? Talk about cheesy. At least I don’t get any Zapho vibes. She’s not here to check up on me . . . or worse. No way . . . Is she? Chasing those thoughts, a foggy image shimmered through Juliet’s mind. It was clearly a man’s face, twisted in anger, shouting. Ginger stubble dotted his ruddy chin and cheeks, and his lips were like writhing, spittle-flecked red worms as he yelled. No sound accompanied the image, which Juliet had to assume was some kind of memory of Eve’s. Was that Zapho?

Juliet shook her head, trying to banish the image and the bartender’s less-than-flattering thoughts. “I guess it was kinda dumb. I’m not a kid . . .”

“What’s that?”

“Sorry, Angel. I keep forgetting you don’t see or hear the things I pick up. She was kinda roasting me for asking her to pick me a drink.”

“Oh, I see. I thought it was fine; you weren’t being creepy or anything. She strikes me as a rather on-edge person.”

“Yeah, she definitely is, and I also think she’s in way over her head. Yesterday I saw her imagining using some kind of pick, but if she’s planning to kill with it, she’s . . . I think she’s going to get herself killed or captured. I wonder what this guy has on her. I heard her thinking about getting off the ship on Io; do you think she’s running from someone? The other guy, um, Kirby, maybe?” While Angel processed her flurry of questions and thoughts, Juliet watched Eve mixing a drink and immediately began to hear her thoughts again:

A little rum, some orange zest. Here we go. Hmm. It’s sort of sweet, though, but not ‘too’ sweet. She didn’t say nothing sweet at all, right? Oh, nuke it! Why do I care?

Juliet had to fight back a smile as she heard that inner dialogue; Eve certainly had an edge, but she was at least trying to do what Juliet asked. She began to feel a bit dirty listening to her thoughts so much, so she struggled to dial it back, distracting herself with another question for Angel, “How’s the lattice?”

“Some heat, which I’m treating with the cooling implant, but nothing close to what you accumulated yesterday.”

“And the nanites? I forgot to ask if they found anything amiss. I take your lack of a report as a good sign, though.”

“You don’t remember?”

“Remember?”

“Oh, Juliet!” Angel’s voice rose with concern. “I knew this would happen, but not this fast!”

“What are you talking about?” Juliet hissed the words, her frustration making subvocalizations an impossibility.

“The bio-silver—it’s damaging your short-term memory. I’m afraid it’s only a matter of time before you won’t be able to construct any new memories at all!”

Juliet frowned, drummed her fingers on the table, then said, “You think you’re funny, huh? What is it with you always trying to prank? You know that wouldn’t be funny, right?”

“I wouldn’t joke if your lovely gray matter hadn’t been perfectly healthy in the examination I ran while you slept.”

Juliet sighed and rubbed the back of her neck. “When did you decide to play this prank? Long before I asked, huh? That’s why you didn’t make a report! You were waiting for me to ask!”

“Here we go, hon. It’s called a rum fashioned—kind of a play on the old fashioned. It has a little sugar in it, but you can definitely still taste the rum.” Eve set a tumbler down in front of Juliet. It held one huge ice cube, a couple of fingers of amber-colored liquid, and a dehydrated orange slice garnish.

Juliet lifted the glass, savored the orange scent mixed with the heady alcohol, and then, following a gut instinct, said, “Thanks, Eve. Hey, I think we need to talk. It’s about Zapho.” Juliet looked up at Eve’s face, trying to gauge the effect of her words, and it wasn’t hard—the woman had gone white, and her mouth opened and closed twice before she formulated a response.

“When?”

“When you get done with work. You can come to my room.”

“Am . . . am I in trouble?” Eve’s voice had gotten very small, very quiet, and Juliet could see her hands were trembling. She wanted to comfort her, but she reminded herself that she didn’t really know her yet, other than that she might be in trouble with some bad people and that she’d agreed to kill someone.

“You might be. Not from me, mind you. I want to help you. I need you to trust that, Eve, and don’t do something stupid.” Juliet sipped the drink and found the orange scent complemented the smooth, slightly sweet but strong, heady rum nicely. “Oh, that’s good. Thank you.”

“Is,” Eve licked her lips, and Juliet admired how well her lipstick held up to the treatment, “is there anything else?”

“Can you order me a steak here? I mean, you have full service in the bar, right? I’ll take a steak with, uh,” Juliet gazed at the menu in her AUI for a second, “mixed seasonal vegetables with the truffle oil . . .”

“You want real steak or the plant-based?”

“Well . . . it seems a bit extravagant, but I’m on vacation. Let’s go for the real deal, okay?” Juliet slapped the table and smiled broadly.

“Okay. I, um, have to get back to the bar.” Eve turned stiffly, and Juliet knew if she reached out to hear her thoughts, they’d be racing. She’d be contemplating running, realizing there was nowhere to go; they were in space, after all. Then she’d probably be trying to think of a way to lie or hide or something worse . . .

“Eve,” Juliet paused until she turned around to face her. “I’m not lying. I really want to help. Don’t do anything crazy, okay?” As Juliet stared into her eyes, she thought she saw something defrost or snap, and the other woman nodded. “I’ll have my PAI send you my room info.”

Eve nodded and turned, and Juliet felt a little bad for how she’d ambushed her with Zapho’s name. “Do you think I was too blunt?”

“I think your abrupt revelation forced a real emotional response from her. Her cool façade crumbled. I imagine her thoughts are even more tumultuous.”

“Maybe,” Juliet sipped her drink, enjoying how the hard liquor made a sort of glowing warm spot in her belly. “I’m not listening right now. I feel like I heard enough—saw enough—when I dropped the bomb. I’m not worried about her trying to kill me or anything; she’s scrambling, scared, not murderous or scheming. I’ll make sure when she comes to see me, though.” That said, Juliet tried to enjoy her meal, though it wasn’t really easy. Eve looked like a scared little girl every time she came over to the table, and Juliet had to struggle not to hear the thoughts that were practically screaming out of the bartender’s head.

As she ate her steak—not nearly as good as she’d imagined after hearing Hot Mustard and some of the guys in Charlie Unit go on about it—she had to keep her eyes down and not think about Eve or panicked feelings and thoughts kept seeping into her head. “I didn’t bank on this . . .” she subvocalized between bites.

“The meat being so chewy?”

“No. I seem to be getting more sensitive. Remember I told you her thoughts came easily to me in the pool? Well, they’re, like, clamoring to get into my head now. I think her stress is making them louder.”

“The lattice is requiring more cooling than earlier, but nothing close to worrisome.”

“Yeah . . .” Juliet trailed off, noting a new development at the bar. A tall, thin man with a shaved head had come in. He wore the same uniform as Eve, and as she enhanced the gain on her ears, Juliet heard Eve thanking him.

“. . . owe you one. I didn’t know my friend was going to be on this cruise, and I haven’t seen her in years.”

“No worries, Eve. I got this—best tips are after nine, anyway.” Eve leaned forward and kissed his cheek, and he laughed, “Go on, now! Have fun.” He glanced at Juliet and smiled, waving.

“Interesting.” Juliet watched as Eve took off her apron and stuffed it under the bar top, then walked around and sat across from her.

“Hey. I was hoping we could talk now because I’m crawling out of my skin worrying about what’s going on.”

“You weren’t quite ready for this development, were you?” Angel’s voice had a teasing note, and Juliet didn’t like it. When had she started to take so much pleasure in her discomfort? Was she reacting to something Juliet had said? Was she enjoying this little reality check because Juliet had been a bit too clever with Eve?

“Be nice to me, please.” Her subvocalization was quick and would hopefully give Angel something to think about. Aloud, she said, “Eve, tell me what Zapho wanted you to do. I mean, let’s start with the target, the old lady.”

Eve’s eyes bugged out, and she leaned forward. “Shh! Dang, Lucky! Who knows who’s listening in here.”

“Right—that’s why I wanted you to come to my room.” Juliet frowned, then pushed her plate away. She’d eaten most of the meat, but it had to have been frozen for a very long time. Despite its pink center, it was tough, chewy, and severely lacking in flavor.

“Well, can we go now?”

Please! Just say yes! Let’s get this over with! I’m melted! Oh God, if Zapho sent her, that means . . .

“Yeah, come on; let’s go.” Juliet stood up and led the way out of the restaurant.

“Thank you. Thank you, thank you!” Eve said several times as they made their way out and up some moving stairs to a long gallery that led to the first of the passenger cabin levels.

“It’s all right.” Juliet slowed, so Eve was forced to walk beside her or risk very strangely slowing down to stay behind her. As she came up on her left, Juliet eyed her. “You need to relax. I’m not here to . . . do anything to you.”

“Really?” Eve was tall, looking Juliet right in the eyes despite her flat-soled work shoes. “I’m just losing it here! I can’t stop sweating, and I feel like my heart’s gonna beat out of my chest.”

“That’s how I feel when I’m going to an interview.” Juliet winked and led the way up another escalator. She looked left and right, noted the light traffic, and said, “I suppose I’m missing some good shows or something, huh? After we’re done talking business, maybe you can suggest something to me for tomorrow.”

“Um, sure. I’ve seen quite a few . . .” she trailed off, and Juliet could still feel the stress and panic radiating off her. She could still almost hear her thoughts without trying in the slightest. She made a conscious effort to force her mind to contemplate other things. She thought about Bennet and wondered what he might be doing at that moment; had he gotten good news about the barrel refabrication? She made a mental note to call him in the morning. She thought about Shiro and Alice and wondered why they hadn’t gotten back to her after that adorable goodbye message she sent.

“Those jerks!” she hissed as the thought struck her.

“Huh?” Eve visibly recoiled.

Juliet gestured down the hallway to the left, lined with closed cabin doors. “This way. I was just thinking about some friends who never replied to a message I sent them. I suppose some delay is expected, but I should have heard from them by now!”

“Oh. Um, yes, that can be frustrating.”

Juliet eyed Eve as the woman looked at the room numbers, reading each one as if they were a countdown to her demise. “Relax. We’re just going to talk, okay?”

“Right, okay.” Eve nodded, setting her red-painted lips into a firm line. When they came to her room number, Eve pointed. “This one, right?”

“Yep. I’ll set up a jamming field inside just to be extra safe. No one’s going to hear anything.”

“That’s great. Thank you, Lucky.”

Juliet touched her hand to the security panel, and when the door hissed open, she led the way through. Eve was right behind her, and Juliet heard the door hiss shut. She was still paranoid these days, so she turned her head a bit sideways, wanting to keep the other woman in her peripheral vision—she hated having anyone behind her, let alone sketchy would-be assassins. That was probably why she didn’t notice the other individual lurking in the shadows of the doorway to her bedroom. It was probably why the scratchy male voice almost made her jump out of her skin.

“Well, well. You weren’t lying, Eve—she’s a regular meltdown! Sit down on the sofa there, pretty lady.”