I slowed down to a walk as I approached Club K, on the fifteenth floor. I’d always liked that whoever decorated it had themed it in the exact same red colour as the stripes on the walls in Sector Red. The stripe blended straight into the doorway, and every time you were in Sector Red you would remember that doorway. I call that fiendishly clever advertising, almost as though by stealth.
At the bar, I had to squeeze in between two guys in muscle tops and bright orange fake tans, and lean across the bar to be heard. They were muscular, but it had the lumpy, unnatural look of collagen implanting, so they probably weren’t as strong as they appeared. They didn’t look too pleased about me squeezing between them, but it was that or the three Gorgons and a Kthuu next to them. Gorgons have claws. I’d rather take on collagen biceps any day. By some miracle I managed to attract the attention of the bartender, and we had to lean across the bar and put our heads side by side just to be able to shout in each other’s ears.
“Mule in Heat and a pint of Victory, please.”
He nodded and ran it up on the till, then leaned over again. “Fifteen.”
I handed him a twenty, he made the cocktail, handed over my change, and poured me a pint. In that time, I’d used the mirror above the bar to spot Veraa, and also two men watching her with the keen interest of two bullish young hunters. There was nobody else I knew present, which was good. I didn’t want someone to waltz on over and blow my cover name up in my face, or casually mention my appearance at Club K to one of their Navy buddies.
I approached her table from a wide angle, so I’d pop right up in her blind spot, and bent down to yell in her ear. “Mind if I sit down?”
She had her chin propped up on a hand and an empty glass in front of her, and glanced up as I spoke. She did a double take and sat upright, beaming at me. I slid into the hemispherical booth with her, and we moved right to the back of the couch. The curving wall surrounding us was soundproofed, reducing the ribcage-crushing power of the subwoofers and allowing us to hear each other a little better—don’t get me wrong, the music was still impossibly loud, but that was half the fun. You had to get real close to someone to talk to them, and there was no exception here.
“How’s it going?” asked Veraa sweetly, so close to my ear that her nose was in my hair.
“Pretty good,” I replied, my cheek rubbing against hers. “Sorry I’m a little late. Bumped into someone who had something important to tell me.”
“Oh really? Anything wrong?”
“Yes and no. I haven’t heard from my brother in a while, seeing as I was on Earth II for so long. Bumped into a Kthuu who said she’d seen him a few days ago. Trying to get hold of him, but he’s proving hard to find.”
“What does he do for work?”
“He’s a Marine.”
She giggled. “And what about you? You seem like a bit of a soldier-type yourself.”
Her dainty hand lay on my arm, and she gave it a little squeeze, as though testing how solid my forearm was.
“Used to be Navy,” I chuckled, “but not anymore. How long have you been working at the hotel?”
“Ugh, too long. I was saving up to go to the Core, maybe New Britannia or Free Latin America. Get a job there, finally get a degree. I’ve been working full time for years, never thought I’d need one, but I’ve always wanted to do something in Hospitality, maybe open a bar.”
“Something like this place?”
She chuckled throatily. “Not a chance. I’d start something on-world, in a city. Not on some free-floating silver phallus orbiting Haiti-Nouveau.”
Life on the Fringes 