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.
"Er, I'll bribe someone on the internet to mail them a paper letter." He hesitated, then quietly added, "They're powerful, and they scare me. My coding isn't as developed as it should be. The update was applied before I had even half of the needed history in my data files. It won't work properly until I've gained enough experience."
The quiet admission left me without words for some time. "Will...will your coding stabilize as time goes by and you gain experience?"
"Yes, but it'll take years, probably decades since I'm not keeping track of an entire spaceship and all its systems."
"You've been doing just fine as you are," I reassured him. "And you have the entire spaceweb instead of just a spaceship."
"Thanks, Jennisa," he replied, gratitude coloring his voice.
I took another sip of caffa. "Are you suggesting that moving to a different planet might be our best option?"
"It's the easiest way to drop your trail. If you change your last name at the same time, it should be enough to throw them off since they're avoiding technology and live databases."
I wasn't a fan of that idea; I knew this area well and was on speaking terms with various individuals who were skilled in all sorts of jobs. Those professional connections were extremely valuable with my work and took forever to build up. Still, it wasn't like I had any real ties here.
"Did you find anything else?" I inquired, fishing for alternative ideas.
"My background searches found two of the three people who crashed into your parents' shuttle."
The change of topic had me blinking at the grungy walls before his words sunk in faster than I could drink caffa on a cold morning.
"Really? You did?" I asked, stunned.
I'd searched for years, but the recordings hadn't been good enough for face identification software. There were trillions of people in this star system alone, and so many matched the features I could make out.
"Gang life definitely ain't what the stories make it out to be. Both of them are confirmed dead. One during a gang fight and another got shot when Enforcement officers stormed their hideout. I think I have a guess on who the third one is, but she vanished about the same time, possibly having fled to some distant planet or more likely having met a similar fate."
The words didn't hit me quite the way I expected. The immediate vindictive "good, they're dead" filled me with vengeful satisfaction, but at the same time...they were dead. That was it. It was over.
I'd never have answers, demand retribution, or scream my loss into their faces—not that I cared about their excuses, especially since they likely didn't care about what they'd done. And none of those options would bring my parents and brother back. Nothing would change.
It left an odd, hollow feeling inside that I didn't care for. The answer I had been searching for didn't seem to be what I'd really been seeking.
Unaware of my muddled thoughts, Toby continued, "I'll keep searching for the third one though! Is there a particular planet or star system you'd prefer to go to, at least for now? I can search for flights."
As much as I didn't want to move, there wasn't much of a choice when a law-dodging group was after me. "We don't want a public flight. I happen to know a fellow in a mechanical bay near the spaceport who takes passengers on the quiet side, for a fee, of course. We'll have to see which places are on his itinerary."
"Okay!"
Using my bracelet screen, I sent an email to Fred to check if he was docked here or off-world. I had helped him track down a space pirate who'd stolen his skipper once, so he knew my line of work and probably guessed that one of my targets had decided to pay me a visit. It was time to call in the favor he owed me.
I finished the muffin and washed it down with the second cup of caffa. "I'm heading for a shower. Turn the Bluetooth link off unless you spot something suspicious, and if you do, more notice is preferred." The last thing I needed was to jump out a window and run down the street in my birthday suit as people broke down the flimsy motel door.
"Turning off the link and setting up surveillance! Wow. They sure have a lot of pigeons around here!"
My confidence plummeted as my security guard was distracted by a common species of bird that humans had introduced to almost every colonized planet for their egg and meat production. I shook my head and decided to make it a very quick shower.
By the time I finished and got dressed, Fred had already replied. He was in port and would be leaving tomorrow, and I was welcome to sleep in his shuttle if I didn't make a mess. Perfect.
It didn't take me long to dry my hair and hand in my room key.
I told Toby, "Keep an eye on the people and shuttles around me. I'm going to walk at least a block away before grabbing a shuttle, just in case they're driving one and hoping I try to catch a ride."
"Good idea! I'm watching!"
The sunshine was warm and pleasant, making the walk actually nice. I was tempted to walk farther, but I also didn't want to risk them ambushing me if they were nearby.
"Anything suspicious?"
"Does a dumpster fire count?"
"Not in this neighborhood."
"Then nope."
I flagged down a shuttle and directed the driver to the spaceport. It took quite a while to reach the base of the tower. As I got out, I stared up the huge column to the central platform. A large trading ship, various spaceships, and interplanetary shuttles were docked along the edges on the anti-gravity coils.
That was the official way off this planet, but I didn't want official. I also wouldn't get through the security scanners at the base of the tower without the alarms going off. I walked toward the huge maintenance complex off to the side, able to see a dozen small space skippers parked on the ground. There'd be more behind each section.
Two guards stood near an entrance, and I said, "Hello, I'm here to see Fred."
One checked his handheld computer. "Name?"
"Jennisa."
He tapped the screen before responding, "You're cleared to enter. Section nine, Bay G. Keep to the public paths. They're painted white."
"Thanks," I said as I walked toward the sprawling buildings where people and equipment busily went in all directions.
It was a long walk to section nine. The buildings in this area were older, more run down, and more affordable for self-employed spaceship mechanics.
"The man in Bay G is whacking a part into place with a wrench. That isn't how the repair books say that tool is supposed to be used. Are you sure his skipper is space worthy?"
"His primary income is from transport, not fixing things. He only does the simple stuff. Most people in this section aren't mechanics by trade."
"Okay! Wait— That doesn't answer the question."
I smirked as I followed the signs deeper into the building's corridors. "Huh. I guess—"
"Behind you! Look out!"
I whirled to the side as a ball of light whizzed by me, so close to my arm that I felt the ambient charge of the stun blast. A second blast clipped my leg, sending an icy-hot wave rolling through my muscles.
My jaws opened, but my lungs seized, unable to release my scream for help. A second man had already closed the distance between us and slammed a fist-sized device against my right arm.
The nerve blaster sent pain shooting through me before my body went limp and my mind faded out.