Serial: Bodyguard of Lies, episode 9: Tension Builds

[eimarra]

Bodyguard of Lies is a serialized science-fiction novel updating once a week on Tuesdays. If you missed last week’s episode, Bad Seed, it can be found here. You can catch up on the entire serial on this page with a description of the story and links to all published episodes.

Bodyguard of Lies
Episode 9
Tension Builds

A face darker than Leo’s popped up on the vid. “What did you do? I thought you were going to head things off.”

“I may have stirred them up instead.” Leo seemed unrepentant.

“No, really? Is that why the shift chief was screaming at everyone in sight as this miner commandeered parts in an effort to launch early?”

“How early?”

The man shook his head. “Look, Leo, they’re gone, and now you’re going to be partly at fault for whatever happens.”

Sabra thought about Cole, a spoiled rich guy who was sure he could buy anything he wanted, including her. Not so very different from his uncle, but Leo had been less cocky, less Violet, about it. No “I have money, so you will do what I want — Leo was worried about the damage the drug would do on the streets. He was human.

Sabra interjected into the conversation. “Cole’s a grown man. He made his decision. Whatever he’s doing, it’s not Leo’s fault.”

“That’s all you know about it,” the contact replied. “Leo’s been manipulating Cole like a data cluster since before Cole learned to read. Don’t you think that Cole’s doing anything Leo don’t want him doing.”

Sabra shot an uneasy look at Leo. Had he manipulated this entire affair? Set up the drug war? But he pushed his lips together. “Not this time, Nick. I may have pushed up his timetable a bit, but he set himself on this course, whatever it is.”

“Right.” He clearly didn’t believe Leo, but didn’t think it was worth arguing. “The ship’ll be off within the hour. You might want to think about what you’re going to do when it gets to its target. And call your lawyers.”

The vid flicked off, and Leo reached for the controls. Sabra stopped him with her hand on his arm. “Did you manipulate this?”

He ignored her question. “Unless you know how to fly, I suggest you let go. And in the future, don’t push yourself into my business conversations. You’re useful, you’re clever, and you might have good insights — but you don’t interfere with my business.”

She leaned back and crossed her arms in front of her. She didn’t bother closing her eyes for the landing. No mercs were present to meet them.

On the way to the lift, Leo said, “It’s going to be a late night, I’m afraid. On your first day, too.”

“The merc lounge is a comfortable enough place to wait,” she said. “I assume we’re waiting to find out where he’s going with the miner.”

“And what he does when he gets there.”

Leo exited the lift at his office; Sabra rode down to the merc level. The lounge was quieter now, Mick and a couple of mercs she hadn’t met yet hanging out with beers in their hands.

“Shift change?” she asked.

Mick grinned up at her. “I hoped you were coming back. Grab a beer.”

She crossed to the cooler and grabbed an electrolyte mix. “Sorry, I’m still on call. Not sure what’s up, but it may be a late night.”

“Welcome to the club,” one of the other guys said. “I’m Ian; he’s Owen. No one ever keeps us straight, so don’t worry about it.”

Sabra sat on the arm of the couch and swung her feet up onto the cushion next to Mick. “Nah. You get yourself a Ewan, too, and I’ll get worried. Two people with similar names? I can keep you straight.”

Mick shook his head. “Not quite as easy as you think. They’re face-shifters.”

She cocked her head at Owen. “You’ve never had any acting classes, have you?” When he shook his head, she said, “I didn’t think so. You studied in Green, working with the Snake Dojo until it got closed down for code violations of the sort that don’t get talked about. You tend to lead with your left, but your strongest blow is your right side kick.”

“You didn’t get that from walking in here,” Mick said.

“Some of it’s in the files, but which hand he waved, the angle he rests his feet at — that tells me about the fighting.” She grinned. “You don’t think I got to be champ just because of my pretty face, do you?”

Ian batted his eyelashes at her. “I’m sure it didn’t hurt.”

She pointed at him. “Well, no. It never hurts when your opponent underestimates you. You, for example, I wouldn’t want to fight. You don’t telegraph near as much as most of these guys. I’d bet you’re a pro, from out of city. Can’t pin down your accent, though.”

“And you won’t.” He grinned. “I worked as hard at hiding that as hiding my style. Unpredictable, that’s me.”

She nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Want to check it out? We’ve got some time, and these two can hold down the fort?”

Sabra rolled her shoulders back and swigged some of her drink. “Nah. Got to be ready when Leo calls me. We’ll go through our paces on the mat some other time.”

“Mat, floor, bed, your choice.”

The tips of Mick’s ears were red. Sabra slid down to the cushion, her legs twining easily across Mick’s. She didn’t say anything to Ian. Mick slid his arm around her waist.

Owen cracked up. “Smooth, Ian, really smooth.”

Ian’s face went still for a second, and then the muscles crawled. They settled into a duplicate of Owen’s face. He stretched out his legs and crossed them in perfect mimicry. “Think anyone would notice if I replaced you?”

“Yeah, if your smart-ass self wasn’t around, people would talk,” Owen said.

“I could do both.” Ian smiled Owen’s smile at Sabra. “Thanks for pointing out the body language; I’d been having trouble pinning it down.”

Mick shook his head. “You two sort out who’s who. I’m going to show Sabra — ”

“We can just imagine what you’ll show her.”

Sabra couldn’t tell which of them had spoken. It didn’t really matter. “Did the info I asked for come through?”

“Yes. Come on, there’s a private vid in the med room you can use,” Mick said.

“Just take her into your room already. Or is Trace in there?” Probably Ian speaking, though she still wasn’t sure.

Sabra slid her legs to the floor and stood in a single motion. Mick followed her, and they left the room with their arms around each other. Owen — maybe — snickered behind them.

In the med room, Mick pointed at the far wall. “Vid’s over there.”

She swung to face him, pressed against him. His mouth came down on hers. He ran his hands along her sides, and one of his fingers pressed against the cut Lipinski had given her. She pulled back.

“The med scans picked up the cut,” he said. “You weren’t lying about the match.”

She shoved him backward, annoyed. “I don’t lie.”

She pivoted toward the vid. She’d asked Charly for some feedback — carriers, background on the cult that used the drug, some numbers to track where Cole’s money was coming from. Sabra didn’t expect much yet.

Mick caught her around the waist. She could’ve thrown him, but the med room wasn’t the place for it.

“I didn’t think you were, but some of the others . . . in case you didn’t notice, they don’t exactly like you.”

“I don’t care.” She twisted her head to face him. “I don’t give a rat’s chance in a Gray kitchen what Jimmy or some dumb Lip fan thinks of me. Or some merc who thinks I’m trying to steal her man.”

“Trace thought she was being subtle.” He bent to kiss her again, but at this angle, it was easy for her to avoid his lips.

“She wouldn’t know subtle if it hit her with a grenade.” Sabra winked at him. “I should know; I’m the same way.”

“I noticed.” He let go of her. “Peace?”

“As long as Trace isn’t in your room. We’re going to need it.”

~~

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Originally published at Erin M. Hartshorn. You can comment here or there.