In the Shadow of the Starships

Chapter 9 Backup Plan

The bed seemed far too soft, and my legs ached like I had run a marathon. Those two unusual details eventually stirred my mind from its slumber.

Most people would have sat bolt upright in bed to stare at their surroundings, but I simply groaned and pulled a pillow over my head. Yep. The chemical smell of commercial-grade laundry soap. I was in a motel. The events last night really had happened.

I simply laid there as I gradually roused from my slumber. Eventually, I managed to sit up and blink at the drab room. The bed took up most of the space, a threadbare chair was shoved into the corner, and a picture of a forest hung above the bed. The crooked clock proclaimed it was already after two o'clock.

"There's caffa outside your door!" Toby said, apparently having learned the best way to say "good morning" without getting growled at.

I staggered to my feet and was halfway to the door before my brain started functioning. "How did it get outside the door?"

"I ordered it in."

Opening the door, I glanced down the empty hallway before picking up the two large cups of caffa and a paper bag off the floor. The receipt had a delivery note highlighted. Leave outside door. No knocking. We're preoccupied.

I blinked at the sentences a few times as I closed the door, eventually deciding I needed some caffa before inquiring. I took a cautious sip of the still-warm liquid; it was strong, wet, and was of a quality that I hadn't had in far too long. I glanced at the delivery note and kept drinking.

After draining half of the cup, I asked Toby, "Where did you get that wording for the delivery instructions?"

"An online delivery tips site! Many people said it worked well! The delivery boy seemed oddly confused when he heard your snoring."

I needed far more caffa than this to even attempt an explanation. On second thought, I decided he didn't need to know what it meant. It'd probably save me a headache and him a lot of confusion.

I sat on the bed, set one caffa on the tiny nightstand, tucked the other one under my arm—I wasn't about to let go of my caffa mere minutes after getting out of bed—and investigated the paper bag. It had a big carrot muffin and a package of diced vegetables.

"Thank you," I murmured, trying to not to think about the cost of these items but also grateful to have them. As I nibbled on the muffin—it was soft and decadent spices flavored every crumb—I asked, "Any updates?"

"We seem to have lost our followers," he promptly replied. "Two second-rate hackers tried to track your card transactions for the motel, so I gave them a false address on the other side of town. There is no communication to be found about who hired them, which really only points to one group."

"The Deviant Group." I had been wondering about that. "Which means they likely suspect I had something to do with your disappearance."

If they had wanted to re-hire me to "fix" the database, they would have contacted me the same way they'd done before. Not sent random amateurs after me, which also seemed to be their calling card.

"That's my guess. Too bad the AI I made didn't fool them. Anyway, I got three jobs done last night before our visitors arrived. The landlady heard the commotion downstairs and found your room broken into. Chuck greeted the Enforcement officers who came to investigate in the same fashion he greeted the guy who broke in."

I chuckled around my muffin and shook my head before becoming serious. "We should probably warn the Starships that this duo is out causing trouble again." The Starships would surely investigate, which was the fastest option of distracting our stalkers or getting rid of them.