Easy Money, Part 11
The shuttle -- white, pristine, and fully-automated -- gave the lightest of jolts as it came to rest against the airlock leading into Sotachi.
"And thus," Odrida said as the hatch cycled open, "our journey together ends. Finally."
"Thanks again," Merideth said, hefting a bag over her shoulder and not meeting Odrida's gaze. "I really appreciate--"
"Don't mention it," Odrida said, stepping through the open hatch into the airlock. "Ever. To anybody. Please."
A cheerful automated female voice welcomed the shuttle's disembarking passengers to Sotachi and immediately suggested where they could get a bite to eat and a hot bath -- for a price so reasonable they'd barely even notice. After a few moments, the hatch to the shuttle closed, and the entrance to the terminal opened. The only other people visible were an official in a booth near the exit and a few small groups waiting for shuttles. However, the profusion of moving images on the walls made the place seem much more crowded.
Odrida had been on Sotachi before. Like the rest of the station, the terminal's governing aesthetic was pure white overlayed with innumerable moving advertisements. Primary-colored cartoon characters and impossibly wholesome women hawked an absurd variety of wares available on-station, courtesy of either Sotachi or one of its corporate partners. Not all station sponsors took an active hand in managing the facilities bearing their names, but the consumer electronics giant had a deal that basically turned this place into an enormous showroom.
Happy bouncing bunnies cooed over the spectacular image resolution of their SmartGoggles™. Immaculate Geisha-esque women marveled at the quality and variety of video and audio entertainment available through a subscription to Sotachi's Digital Dee-Litez. It was like being inside some kind of post-consumer fever dream.
Odrida led Morg, Ham, and Merideth to where a young station functionary sat behind something thick, transparent, and bulletproof. "Greetings," he said into his microphone, "and welcome to Sotachi Station, home to the finest consumer electronics in all of human-settled space." He was obviously reading from a script displayed on his Gogs.
Odrida ignored him as he extolled the virtues of Sotachi's latest-generation wall displays and pressed her thumb to the ID pad. She motioned for the three people off her ship to follow suit.
All right, get in character, girl.
She plastered a big, innocent smile onto her face, as though she expected to be past this formality in a matter of moments.
And the wad of fresh fecal matter will impact the air circulator in t-minus five ... four ... three ...
The young man stopped in mid-spiel. "Uhm ... Miss Chan?"
"Is there a problem?" she asked, knowing full well there was a serious goddamn problem.
"Uhm ... are you aware ... the flight plan you registered with the Trade Authority ... it has you going to Vatterott Furniture."
Odrida twisted her face into something she hoped resembled surprise and concern. "You mean this isn't Vatterott?"
The kid glanced away from her, seeming to confirm to himself that some version of the Sotachi logo was, indeed, plastered on every available flat surface. "Uhm ... no. No, it isn't."
Odrida forced out a laugh. "Oh, well, silly me. Guess I'm still figuring all this spaceship stuff out. That's not such a problem, is it?"
"Uh ... actually, yeah. It kinda is. You're, uhm, gonna have to talk to somebody."
Odrida frowned. "Well, nuts. Do my crew need to hang around, too, or are they free to enter?"
A pause. "Yeah, those guys are cool. But as for you ... uhm ... okay, looks like you need to go to the TA office. Right away. Concourse level. You need a map?"
Odrida dug-out her best "aw, shucks" voice. "Naw, I can find it."
The kid gave her a dubious look -- and given the colossal navigational ineptitude she'd already displayed just by being here, she'd earned it.
"Why don't I call you an escort. Uhm, won't take but a moment ..."
Odrida sighed. This day had some serious suck it still needed to get out of its system yet.
Morg was standing next to her. She looked for Ham, intending to tell him to go ahead and get cracking on those replacement parts. Seemed he was already one step ahead of her; he was through the checkpoint and was at a credit terminal.
With Merideth.
It only took a moment's worth of pondering to realize why those two would be visiting a cred terminal together.
Apparently, Ham's shopping trip was going to wait a bit.
She rolled her eyes. Horny old goat. What the hell, their hasty exodus from Kane Micro had cheated him out of the booty he'd been craving; she couldn't quite begrudge him making the most of this particular opportunity, even if she had to question his taste.
Besides, she thought as a pair of stern security guards approached, at least somebody's gonna have a good time today.
Face flushed with humiliation, ears ringing with a professional-grade ass-chewing, Odrida stepped into the Trade Authority waiting room where her First Mate sat, reading a magazine.
Morg looked up as she approached.
"Passengers suck," she announced.
Morg nodded, a sympathetic look on his face. "Didn't go so good?"
"Two kilobuck fine, and I'm officially on probation for a year. I fuck-up anywhere near this hard again, they'll yank my license."
Morg winced. "Still flying, though."
"Yup." Odrida sighed. "So let's fly the hell out of here."
Morg tossed aside the magazine and walked out of the TA office suite with her.
"What's our status?" she asked.
"Good to go," Morg said. "Ham got a good deal, he's installing the parts with Izzy right now."
They walked down the brightly-lit Sotachi concourse. Advertisements greeted them by name and commented on how much they looked like they needed a beer, or a massage, or an exotic vacation package, all reasonably-priced.
"That fast, huh?" she asked. "I figured he'd still be with Merideth."
Morg scowled. "What are you talking about? Ham made for gasoline alley as soon as we took off for the TA; he was giving me updates the whole time."
"Really? Then what the hell--"
She stopped dead in her tracks.
"Ham, you stupid son of a bitch."
"Odrida?"
"He wasn't pre-paying," she said. "God dammit. He was paying her for services rendered!"
Morg frowned. "You sure?" he asked. "She was under surveillance. Whoever had the bridge would have seen it."
"Unless," Odrida said through clenched teeth, "he was getting serviced while he had the con."
"Do you really think Ham would ..."
"... allow bridge access to a dim-witted bimbo who'd already pulled a gun on him once and who'd been confined to other portions of the ship? So he could get his knob polished while he was on-duty? When he was supposed to be keeping an eye open for private gunboats flown by pissed-off criminals? As a matter of fact, yes. Yes, I do."
Odrida stormed towards the shuttle terminal.
"Odrida," Morg said, his voice laced with concern, "this is still speculation, and you've had a shitty day. Careful you don't take it out on our Chief Engineer."
"Don't worry!" she said, flashing Morg her least-convincing smile yet. "We'll just have us a friendly little boss-employee sit-down chat."
And if it gets out of hand, we're parked right next door to some top-notch medical facilities.
