Lost in Transcription Page 2

  Taken by the Aglaoniken who’d knocked the colonist down. Or so the colonist believed.

  A parent interfering in a love match, or something more sinister? I badly wanted to know, and wished I’d at least had the name of the stranger in the hospital. Locating a nameless person on a planet I didn’t know in a culture that didn’t sound too welcoming of newcomers would stretch the finest investigator. And while I’d had a lot of training in how to handle myself, that kind of search was beyond me.

  I slept well, though I felt guilty for doing so. That morning I put in a call to Cosi and Binen’s apartment and a few minutes’ chatting with an excited Byrd, about to go for a long-awaited swim in the ocean, soothed my troubled thoughts a little. I decided not to burden my friends before they took the puggle out for a big day. I almost asked to join them, but I wanted to give the injured colonist a chance to find me. I had no idea what kind of telecommunications the rural part of the planetary population had access to. For all I knew, they still used wired devices. Glimmas had no way of interfacing with such primitive technology.

  I hung around the hotel all day, swimming, exercising, packing in protein to help rebuild my muscle mass, and eating carbohydrate to power all the extra work I did. My genetic makeup allows me to operate at maximum efficiency regardless of available resources, even at well below starvation level, but with plentiful, cheap rations on Lepaute, it made sense to let my body recoup muscle and skeletal mass as much as possible while on gravity break.

  By late afternoon, just when I felt I had given the stranger more than enough time to find me that day, I received a notification on my Glimma that ‘an individual’ awaited me in the lobby. Cosi and Binen would have called first. I went straight down to the lobby, and found my new friend—small, brown, and distinctly shabby-looking— in one of the chairs, being scowled at by a disapproving concierge.

  “Are you well?” I asked. A large head bandage didn’t give me confidence that the hospital had authorised any release.

  A touch to the bandage followed by a grimace. “I...am pain?”

  “In pain?”

  “Yes. A little. But is okay. Doctor say, you want me talk. Talk to me.”

  “I wanted to know if you were okay. And if I could help. My name is Bancilhon Pax of the Aslam. That’s my ship.”

  “‘Aslam’? Means?”

  “Er, it’s a name of someone. Long time ago.”

  “Ancestor?”

  “Yeah, something like that. What’s your name?”

  A little bow. “I am Namjikil.”

  “Welcome, Namjikil,” I said with a returned bow. “Do you want to tell me what happened last night? Who was that person you were arguing with?”

  The concierge was still glowering at Namjikil, so my new friend cocked a thumb towards the door. “Outside? Please?”

  Namjikil winced at the sunshine, so I led us over to a bench under a sunshade. I wasn’t at all sure bed wasn’t the best place for a person with a recent head injury, but Namjikil’s strange blue eyes were clear, fiercely intelligent. I didn’t feel I should argue with that determined expression.

  “That man knows...they take my child. Two weeks ago now.”

  The story was brief and ugly. Four children of similar ages had disappeared from Namjikil’s farming community, and colonist contacts in Lepaute City had learned that a couple of Second Waver kids had turned up in one of the city brothels. The sneering Aglaoniken I’d last seen sauntering off down the street after knocking Namjikil to the ground was connected with the brothel, possibly even its owner.

  “But what will you do?” I asked. “The people behind this would grind you into pulp.”

  “My child!” Namjikil’s hands clenched into fists. “You help maybe?”

  “I think you should go to the police—”

  A gob of spit landed at my feet. “The police don’t give a shit. We ‘natives’.”

  An attitude I’d encountered all too often, sometimes in person, though my height and naturally intimidating looks tended to mute it. “Let me try for you. What’s the brothel called? And your child’s name?”

  I made notes of all this. “Okay. Promise me you won’t go after the Aglaoniken...the owner...yourself.”

  Namjikil’s expression turned icy. “One day. Then, I go on my own.”

  “Please don’t. They could kill you, say you started it.”

  “Ilganji might die.”

  “Not if they are running a brothel. They want....” Namjikil’s expression made me stop out of pure pity. “No, they won’t kill the kids, especially if you don’t cause a fuss.”

  “I cause more than fuss, Pax.”

  “I know.”

  “Police won’t help. They never help.”

  “Maybe you’re right. But charging in there on your own won’t work either. Do you even have a weapon?”

  “We have guns, knives. Not helpless, stupid natives.”

  It sounded like a quote. I winced.

  “No, I don’t think you are. I want to help, and if the police won’t investigate, then I’ll do my best.” Cosi was going to flat out murder me. “But we need to be very careful. For the children.”

  Namjikil nodded. “Yes. Okay.”

  “Is there a way I can contact you?”

  “Yes. A friend lives here.” Namjikil extracted a worn piece of card from a back pocket. “You call them. I stay there.”

  “Good.” I noted the number. “Um, you have to promise me you won’t do anything before talking to me.”

  “One day.” The raised finger was implacable.

  That was doable. “One day, and one more night. You go back to your friend’s house and rest.” I touched the bandage. “Are you really supposed to be out of hospital?”

  A shrug. “Tests and things. No time for that. I am fine.”

  “I could—”

  “Fine, I said.” The glare told me to drop it. “My child more important.”

  “Got it. Okay, I’ll go report to the police now. Give your friend my contact.”

  “Yes. Thank you, Pax.”

  “Wait until I do something.”

  Namjikil arched an eyebrow and gave me a wry look before standing. “One day, one night.” Then asked for blessings on my endeavours in the local dialect. I’m an atheist, but I still appreciated the thought. Good luck is good luck wherever it comes from.

  ~~~~~

  I’d need help, and there were only two people I’d ever turn to for it. So I made a call from the hotel room.

  “Hey, Pax. Everything okay? Do you want to come over for a meal tonight? Byrd misses you.”

  “Maybe tomorrow, Cosi, but right now I need your help.”

  My request wasn’t greeted with huge enthusiasm, although Cosi understood the need for it. “You don’t have a lot for them to go on.”

  “I know, but at least if they’ll take anyone seriously, they’ll take you. I’m too weird and too memorable.” And I’d half formulated an idea, which meant I needed to keep a low profile.

  “What are you going to do if the police don’t listen?”

  “Not sure,” I lied. “Maybe scout out the location quietly. See who’s coming and going, layout and so on.”

  “And?”

  “And...it’s kids, Cosi.”

  “On a complete stranger’s say so.”

  “On a completely desperate parent’s say so. How would you behave if it was Byrd?”

  Cosi hissed in a breath. “You’re a dirty damn fighter.”

  “Can’t help it. It’s my training. Please?”

  Cosi agreed to call the local police operations centre and to get them to take the report seriously. I closed the call and pulled up the brothel location and data on my Glimma. Lepaute City liked similar businesses to be in the same vicinity, and the licensed city brothels all stood in the same street, one block behind the bar I’d been in the night before.

  I guess I already knew I’d have to take direct action here. No decent cop would ignore a report of chil
d trafficking, or want brothels running kids on their watch. There was a faint hope that Namjikil’s patchy Standard had confused or annoyed the officer taking the report, but freck it, I could understand the gist of it without any special training or familiarity with the local dialect. Didn’t the cops have Glimmas?

  But I wasn’t a cop, and I had no authority whatsoever other than being a concerned citizen of the Alliance. I could involve Federation overseers, but that took time and by then word would have got around, and the result would be dead or exported kids.

  So. I’d stuck my nose in, and it was all on me now I’d smelled the stink.

  Cosi called back in thirty minutes. “Freck, Pax. I hate it when you’re right.”

  “What did they say?”

  “It’s what they didn’t say. Or ask. No contact details for your friend, no names or information for the other missing kids. ‘Not interested’ would be exaggerating how much interest they took.”

  “Crap.”

  “You think the police are involved.”

  “I hope not, because it makes what I’m going to do a lot harder.”

  “No, Pax. You’re not going in.”

  “I’m just going to look, that’s all. Collect information.”

  “Not on your own. Binen’s coming over.”

  “No, you can’t. What about Byrd?”

  Cosi gave me a look of undiluted scorn. “You think we could look our kid in the face again if we stood by and let you get killed?”

  “I won’t get—”

  “Binen left ten minutes ago. We know you.”

  I shook my head. “I have—”

  “Special advantages, yeah, we’ve heard it a million times. Last time I looked, you weren’t a police officer and your military training is more than twelve years old. You know about as much about going undercover as Byrd does.”

  “But I’m—”

  “Strong, blue, mean, and fast. I know. Wait for Binen or I’ll change the access codes to the Aslam.”

  I let out a breath in shock at my normally mild-mannered friend. “And you call me a dirty fighter.” Cosi gave me the finger and closed the connection.

  Binen walked into my hotel room a mere five minutes later, sat on the edge of the bed, and glared at me. “Why are you involved in this, Pax?”

  “Because it’s kids being abducted for the sex trade. Little kids.”

  Binen grimaced. “Okay. But there are Federation overseers you could contact. It’s not your job, it’s not your business, and you have no training.”

  I raised a finger.

  “Okay, you have a tiny amount...all right, a lot of training a long time ago. You’re not a soldier. You’re a space pilot, and a damn good one. But that’s it.”

  “I want to help. Namjikil’s child is only seven years old. The other three are about the same age. The police don’t care, and by the time the Federation gets involved, those kids could be dead or who knows where.”

  “They could be anywhere now,” Binen pointed out with perfect accuracy.

  “If it makes you happier, I’ve put a report in to the overseers, but they won’t get here for a week or more. Namjikil won’t wait that long.”

  Binen sighed. “All right. How do we do this?”

  “We don’t. I do. You go home.”

  “Uh-uh. We do this or I’ll stop you. You know I can.”

  I’m taller, stronger, faster and meaner than Binen, but putting my dearest friend in the position of having to block me would cost us too much. “What about Byrd?”

  “Pax, knock it off. Plan?”

  I gave in, but only because Binen would make things easier. “Well, I thought I’d pose as a customer, ask to see any kids they’re selling, make notes and stuff.”

  “Riiight. And that won’t rouse their suspicions at all. Have you ever even been in a brothel?”

  “Of course.”

  My friend did a doubletake. “Really?”

  “Yes? Why not? Sometimes I don’t feel like hitting up strangers, or being hit on. Paying is a lot less risky.”

  “Huh.” Binen looked at me as if I’d grown an extra head. “Didn’t think you were the type.”

  “Maybe there’re a lot of things you don’t know about me.” Which was truer than I dared admit out loud.

  “Okay, but you won’t be able to take a weapon or the Glimma. I can wait outside, but how will you record evidence or contact me?”

  I took off my eyepiece, manipulated my jaw, and pressed hard under my ear. Then I walked into the bathroom and closed the door. “Can you hear me now?” I whispered.

  “Fuck!” Binen’s voice was perfectly audible through my implants.

  I came out again and found Binen staring at me in alarm. “What have you done to yourself?”

  “Not me, and it was all part of that ‘tiny amount of training’. I find it useful sometimes when I can’t use the Glimma, like when I’m swimming. I make sure the technology’s updated from time to time.”

  “But—”

  “I don’t want to talk about my crappy childhood, Binen. The point is that I can communicate with you and record about thirty seconds of images and sound without any external equipment.”

  “Freck. Well, okay. But what about a weapon?”

  I held up my hands, and received an eyeroll for my effort. “I can handle myself.”

  “Yeah, I guess you can at that. When do you want to do this?”

  “Tonight. Namjikil won’t wait. I can’t see any good reason to delay.”

  “No, I suppose not. Let me call Cosi.”

  Binen was unhappy. Me too, because I knew what I was involving them in. So while Binen called Cosi, I did some hard thinking. Maybe this brothel owner hadn’t taken Namjikil’s child. Maybe the kids had been shipped off planet. If the brothel was offering kids for sex, would they admit this to a stranger?

  The best option would be the intervention of the Federation, but its oversight wasn’t designed for fast moving situations. Sure, afterwards, the overseers could investigate. Much good that would do.

  When Binen turned to me again, I’d made up my mind. “We’re only doing this if you stay outside.”

  “Fine by me, so long as you only look, and get out if there’s the slightest problem. You’re only there to get evidence.”

  “Come on, what am I going to do, carry four kids out under my arms?”

  Binen grinned. “Well, you do have all those special advantages. For all I know you’re genetically programmed to grow extra limbs on call.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  With another hour of daylight left, we wanted to wait until proper dark before heading out. Binen and I shared a meal and discussed strategies. Mostly we talked about Byrd. My infertility, my career, and a lack of a permanent partner made raising a child unlikely, although not completely impossible. I’d contented myself with helping Cosi and Binen, playing pseudo-relative, a trusted guardian-in-waiting.

  I’d known Binen before Cosi or Byrd, and I’d seen my friend change in response to their love. As we discussed Byrd’s delight in the day’s outing to the ocean, and I listened to the affection in Binen’s voice, I felt again a pang of longing for a family life. At least longing was easier to deal with than bitterness. Binen’s little family had done a lot to drive that from my emotions. Mostly.

  As we walked out of the hotel, Binen was still a little stooped, although I’d already adjusted to the heavy gravity. “You up to this?”

  Binen glared up at me. “Shut up, you blue tosspot.”

  “Just asking.”

  In the end, we decided to keep it simple. I’d go in, pose as a client, and see what I could find. I wore my uniform because I didn’t own any civilian clothes, and spacers were perfectly plausible brothel customers. Besides, the uniform had some useful extras I might need. I had on a spare, sacrificable eyepiece, and would use my own ID. Binen would stay out of sight, but be ready to back me up if needed.

  The recreational district was a lot busier t
han the night before, which worked to our advantage. A bar next to the brothel was a good place for Binen to be stationed, monitoring over the Glimma without being out of place.

  The Sea View Haven was pretty much like every other brothel I’d ever visited or walked past—windowless ground floor, a bright but tasteful name over the entrance, with the words “Pleasure guaranteed” underneath in smaller letters, and its license to operate prominently displayed in the middle of the front door. Under that, a warning. “NO WEAPONS, NO RECORDING, NO EXCEPTIONS!”

  Inside, a smartly dressed receptionist sat behind a desk and a row of shiny new chairs under soft, discreet lighting. The space could have been a front office for just about anything.

  The receptionist gave me a plastic smile. “Can I help you, spacer?”

  “Yeah. Um...do you...uh.... I mean, freck, this is real hard to say out loud.”

  The smile stretched. “It’s okay, you don’t need to be shy. We offer sensual pleasure for the discerning customer.” Sounded like the millionth time of saying. “You could start with a basic, one hour package—”

  “Um, not the basic. Uh, okay, this is embarrassing. See, I met this pilot on Brintando, kept telling me about...look, I’m not sure I should even talk about this out here.” I tugged nervously at my collar.

  Another shiny, predatory smile. “Sure. Give me an ID, spacer, and I’ll have someone come talk to you privately.”

  I put my palm on the reader, and my ID checked out. A message sent discreetly out of my vision, and a few seconds later, a door further down the room opened, and a hefty, well-dressed management type appeared. The Aglaoniken who’d attacked Namjikil. I hoped my expression didn’t give away my shock.

  “Come this way, pilot. We’ll have a little chat. Please leave your eyepiece with the receptionist. It will be returned to you when you leave. I hope you’re not carrying a weapon. That’s a legal violation, as you’re probably aware.”

  I hastily took off my old Glimma. “No weapons, none at all. You can check if you like.”

  “That won’t be necessary.”