“Well, better get back to the grind.”
I watched him slink back toward the red velvet pillory. “Take it easy, Butch.”
“Sure,” he growled over his shoulder.
One powerful thrust of his hindquarters propelled him onto the stand. He turned around a couple of times and settled in for the long haul.
Tammy's honey-coated voice wafted out from the back of the tea shoppe. I didn't want her to invite me to join Butch on display, so I made myself scarce. It was nearly time for the first shuttle anyway.
When I got to the Customs the yellow light on the gate was flashing, warning of an imminent incoming FTL. Futtle-shuttles, the locals called them. The passengers coming in from them always looked a bit shell-shocked.
I trotted up the sloping ramp and greeted the customs inspectors as I passed through into the waiting area. Huey grinned and beckoned me over with a whistle and a wave of his hand.
Huey was a big, friendly galumph with slick dark hair and a face that was an open book. As a customs inspector he was average, being too good-natured to be really tough. Most days he was good for a bite of nutribar or equivalent. I strolled on over to collect.
He tossed me a scrap of bagel. Onionânot my favorite. I was tempted just to lick off the cream cheese, but I believe in oiling the wheels so I gulped it down, gave him a cute look, and rubbed against his leg before moving on.
Beyond the gate, in the waiting area by the lift, the ceiling was low and the walls blandly industrial. Everything was geared toward moving passengers into the rotunda as efficiently as possible. No distracting artwork or advertising to slow them down. The few seats that were there were designed to be uncomfortable.
I eased over to one wall to sniff the floor seam, but the cleaning crew had been here too. No amusing smells or bits of interstellar dust. Disappointed, I chased my tail for a couple of turns, then collapsed onto my side to wait for the lift to disgorge the fresh fish.
It would be a while before they showed up. The gate lights were still flashing yellowâthey had to go to orange and then red before the shuttle would spill its load. I glanced around, wondering if Devin would be here in time to watch the crowd, or if he'd gotten distracted by the chica at Molly's.
No sign of him so far, so I stretched out my forelegs and laid my head on my paws, fixing to take a cat nap. I was just dozing off when I heard a plaintive mew.
“Leon! Daaarling!”
I raised my head and looked back toward the gate. The last creature I expected to see here was Leila, but there she was, peeking out of a jewel-encrusted tote bag over Elsa's arm. I got up and ambled back through the gate to talk to her.
Elsa had taken over management of Megalink's local branch, and was doing quite well for herself. In her tailored cling she looked as sleek as Leila in a blonde, bipedal sort of way.
“What are you two doing here?” I asked Leila in cat-talk.
Leila rolled her large, green-gold eyes. “Mamzelle is meeting a friend coming in from Ross something-or-other.”
“154,” I supplied.
“I'm sure.”
“Do you like riding in that thing? I mean, it looks uncomfortable.”
“It is, cher, but it's so chic.”
Elsa looked down at me at that point, and gave me a nudge with an alligator-clad toe. “Shoo!”
I flashed her a hurt look and moved around behind her, pretending to shove off. A second later, when Elsa had turned to talk to Huey, I slipped in close again to whisper to Leila.
“Did you see the news this morning? Catch the story about the stolen
Cygnius sedonai
from Cygsee Four?”
Leila nodded, breaking into a purr. “Oh, yes! Such pretty birds!”
“Keep your eye out. Central thinks the thief may try to bring them through here.”
She gave a wide-eyed blink. “Ooh!”
Elsa was still chattering with the customs inspector. I glanced around to make sure no one else was watching, then palmed one of the fake feathers from my shoulder pouch and quickly took it in my mouth. It tasted as bad as it smelled.
“Hewe,” I said, and reared up to spit the feather into Leila's jeweled carrier. It caught on the fluffy trim around the top of the bag. Leila reached a tentative paw toward it.
“That's just for reference,” I told her. “It's not the real thing, but that's what the plumage looks like.”
“Pretty! But the birds on the news holo didn't smell like this.”
“I know. Like I said, it's a fake. Keep it out of sight, okay?”
Leila tilted her head, blinked at me, then with a swift swipe of her paw knocked the feather into the bag. Elsa looked up and reached around to rub Leila's head, then went back to her conversation.
“What's so special about this friend?” I asked Leila. “I've never seen Elsa meet an incoming shuttle before.”
“An old schoolmate. Became a mechanical engineer and moved to the edge of nowhere to become a prospector. It's a little sad, really.”
“Uh-huh.” I nodded, but I was losing interest. Leila's idea of the edge of nowhere was someplace without 24-7 room service. For cats.
A loud buzzer went off and the gate lights went from yellow to orange. I looked up at Leila.
“I've got to get back to work. You let me know if you get a whiff of those birds, all right?”
Leila groomed her left ear. “Yes, yes, cher. I will, assuming I am not still in this bag. It is very hard to climb out when Elsa has the straps over her shoulder.”
I gave her a deadpan look. “The birds are extremely valuable. There could be a substantial reward involved.”
Leila edged one ear forward. “How lovely. I will keep watch for them.”
I couldn't tell if she was being serious or sarcastic. It wasn't as though Elsa didn't have enough money to keep Leila in obscene luxury. On the other hand, most of the people I know who can't seem to get enough money are the ones who already have too much.
“Gotta go,” I said. “I'll bring something by for you later.”
“Thank you, cher,” Leila purred as I headed for the gate.
I started planning how to get Leila out of Elsa's for an evening. Elsa wasn't outright mean to me, but she really didn't like me hanging around. Nothing but the best purebreds for her little Leila-kins. I had a pedigree, but it wasâshall we sayâunusual.
Even if it hadn't been, I doubt Elsa would have let me near Leila. A Burmese/Maine Coon cross was a bit of a frightening thought.
I slipped through Huey's gate again as the lights went from orange to red. The shuttle had landed, and in a minute the lift would unload the first round and Customs would become a zoo. I went back to my spot by the wall and lay down to watch.
Devin slouched up to Elsa and weaseled his way into her conversation with Huey. I hoped he was just doing it for the sake of work, cause I didn't think much more of Elsa than I did of the bar girls at Molly's. Too polished, too cold. Devin needed a nice girl with warm, gentle hands who cooked great fish dinners and always had leftovers.
The first incoming passengers started to arrive, looking tired. I sat up to watch, sniffing for a whiff of that exotic tangy-spicy scent.
Anyone with a hand-carry deserved special attention. The regular luggage all got scanned, and would be picked up on the other side of the gate. It was the people wanting exception to the scan procedure who were most likely to be trying to sneak something through.
Trouble was, the
sedonai
were small, about the size of a terran robin. One would fit easily into a decent-sized pocket. I watched for people with loose clothingâunusual on an interstellar flight because of its awkwardness in zero geeâand people with packages that they were handling as if the contents were fragile.
A father in a business-casual nullsuit walked up to one inspector, leading his little girl by the hand. The father's briefcase interested me less than the girl's dollâone of those pucker-faced things that didn't move or do anything interesting. It was wearing a dress that was even frillier than the girl's.
I prowled through the legs of the crowd to get closer to her. The doll was just barely big enough to hide a bird inside. If it was there, though, where was the other? On the father? With another passenger?
Just as I was getting near enough to try to sniff out the evidence, the girl got impatient waiting for Dad's briefcase to be searched. She took her dolly by the legs and slammed its head against the floor three times.
“Dad! Dad! Dad!”
So much for that. Any bird inside that dolly was now dead, dead, dead.
I dodged away, my pulse jumping at how close I had come to being in range of that weapon. I continued to meander through the crowd, trying to look nonchalant while I settled my ruffled fur.
Would the thief care if the bird was dead? I had been assuming the
sedonai
would be more valuable if they were still alive, but it depended on their ultimate destination. I'd have to think about that.
My eye was caught by a solitary female carrying a bright red leather case. She had the fluid swagger of someone who's spent a lot of time driving heavy waldos, but it looked okay on her. So did her nice silver-blue clingsuit, presently set on medium. She'd probably relaxed it after getting off the flight, and it had probably looked damn stunning set on tight.
I glanced in Devin's direction, wondering if he'd spotted her and come to the same conclusion. Couldn't see him for the crowd, so I wove my way in close to try to get a sniff at her bag.
Boy, was that a mistake. I nearly choked on the perfume. Three or four different kinds, from the smell of it. I fell in behind her and let my mouth hang open despite the caustic fumes, hoping for a whiff of the
sedonai
scent.
Nothing. She walked into a customs line and cheerfully opened her case for the inspector, who flinched despite his dull bipedal sense of smell.
I turned back to the crowd, scanning for the unusual or the slightly out of place, counting on my eyes and ears until my olfactory recovered from the perfume. The mass of passengers was beginning to thin out a bit, and I started to think this batch might be a wash.
I noticed Ling-Ling in Huey's line, waiting behind a tall, orange-skinned biped that wore what looked like a portable oxygen tent on its head. Ling-Ling was dressed in close-fitting black flowered silk, and carried a small cooler in one hand and Hosehead in the other.
Surprised to see her, I started edging her way. I glanced at the counter where the fem in the blue clingsuit had just passed inspection. She dashed out to the station and into Elsa Grippe's arms, making delighted squealy noises.
I should have known.
Dismissing her, I made my way to Huey's counter and watched Ling-Ling. I couldn't figure out why she would be coming in from off-station, until she put her cooler on the counter for Huey to inspect. Then I remembered she was throwing a big do for the clone-doc. She must have gone to the intersystem market at Eps Indi to pick up something exotic to dish up.
A slug of fear hit me. What if she was cooking up
Cygnius sedonai
?
But, noâshe opened the cooler and stood calmly petting Hosehead while Huey took out every itemâincluding some gigantic green eggs with purplish spotsâand even turned the thing upside down to look for hidden compartments.
I kept watching, troubled by my suspicions. Ling-Ling didn't notice me. Neither did Hosehead, but that was not surprising. He wasn't exactly the brightest bulb in the chandelier to begin with, and with his hair down in his eyes it was no wonder his gaze slid right over me.
Devin sidled up behind me. “How're you doin', buddy?” He squatted down and scratched my ears. “Anything?” he said softly.
I shook my head like a wet dog, my signal for “no” when we were out in public.
“Well, keep looking. I'm heading back to the rotunda.”
I gave him a yowl intended to express my hope that he wasn't going to waste any more time at Molly's, then pretended to chase an invisible rat over to the wall of the corridor. When I looked up again, Devin was gone and Ling-Ling was closing her re-packed cooler. Huey grinned at her and patted Hosehead, who continued to pant like an idiot as Ling-Ling stepped past Huey into the station.
I resurrected the invisible rat and used it to get close to the remaining passengers, chasing it all around their legs and sniffing like mad for the birds. My nose was still a bit numb from Elsa's friend's perfume, but I was pretty sure the
sedonai
weren't on any of the last dozen or so to go through customs.
When they were all through the gate and into the station I went back to the rotunda and resumed prowling my beat, sniffing everywhere and everyone. I was frustrated. Of course, it was possible that the birds hadn't come to Gamma. Something told me they had, though, and we had missed them.
I passed Tammy's, where Elsa and her friend were guzzling tea while Leila sat at their feet in the jeweled carry-bag, looking bored. Butch was up on the cat stand, watching Leila and thumping his tail against the red cushions. I gave them both a nod but continued on my way.
What if the birds were dead? I mused as I passed the leather kiosk. I gave the nearest rack of sheepskin coats a half-hearted rub, then moved on past the ice-rocks and the taco place, the duty-free pharmacopeia and the instant credit booth. I paused to spray on the latter. Just a personal statement.
Dead birds would be easier to hide, I thought as I moved on, and still valuable for some things, if not for breeding. Could use the feathers for drugs, though you'd get a finite yield.
A collector might want the birds, but they'd bring a lot more alive than stuffed. A really sick collector might even want to eat them.
An image flashed through my mind, of Ling-Ling serving up a dish of
sedonai
in plum sauce to her doctor client.
Her clone doctor client.