Personal Log 141: 25 November, 3302
22 Feb 2017Jemine Caesar
Citi GatewayInara
25 November 3302
I was dismayed to find Citi Gateway starport's entertainment district to be far busier than I'd expected. The area glowed with neon signs, each marking their respective bar, club, strip joint and various seedy establishments. Small posters advertising various events were crudely stuck to the walls. Various food vendors tried to sell their less-than-desirable cooking to the mostly inebriated population.
"Good Gaia," I muttered under my breath, "this place has certainly seen better days."
I ambled slowly through the mall, wondering how long I'd have to wait until this wretched Emmerich woman showed up. It would be a miracle if we somehow managed to recognise one another. Our very public spat on the Pilots Fed site had been a text-only affair, so neither of us knew what the other actually looked like. How, then, was I to spot her amongst all these people? She was most likely skulking around in some seedy bar, probably in another star system altogether, laughing at me.
My attention was caught by a performer juggling fire torches to a peculiarly jaunty tune. The sight brought back fond memories of my childhood, watching jugglers in our travelling troupe as they entertained the farmhands. Of course, what I didn't know back then was that the jugglers were serving as a distraction for the pickpockets...
As I smiled at the recollection, a woman's voice nearby called out angrily; "Yeah, excuse me! I'm just walking here, arsehole!"
I turned to see who had spoken, only to be suddenly barged out of the way by a young man in a brown leather jacket and cargo pants hurrying through the mall.
"Hey!" I called after him. "Mind where you're going! You almost sent me flying!"
Then a woman's voice sounded out just behind me.
"This place seems to be full of arseholes huh?" she said, matter-of-factly. "This is why I hate crowds."
Before I could reply, the hasty man tripped over a table, landing face-first on the metal deck and spilling food everywhere. A shouting match developed between the man and the now-disgruntled diners who had been arguably enjoying their meal.
"Now that's karma!" chuckled the woman who now stood beside me. She looked about my age, perhaps a little younger. Her dark brown hair was up in a long ponytail and she wore a light-blue jacket.
"Yes," I said, turning back to see the young man disappearing into one of the many bars. "Perhaps from now on he might think twice before barging into people like that."
"I doubt it," commented the woman in the blue jacket. "You OK?"
"Yes, thank you," I replied. "I was waiting for... for a friend, but I think I've been stood up. So... do you fancy a coffee?"
The woman raised a quizzical eyebrow at me. "Go on then," she said. "I haven't eaten for hours. I hope at least one of these food stalls isn't selling burnt chow." She pointed to a nearby food stall with hunks of meat that were blacker than a pile of charcoal. She couldn't seriously be considering eating that, could she? It looked absolutely disgusting!
"I think I'll just make do with a coffee," I said, smiling. "I must say, it's nice to see a friendly face. Everyone around here seems to be awfully solemn. My name's Jem, by the way."
The woman's eyes widened, causing her brow to furrow. "Oh," she said, "you're not the Jem? The goody two-shoes from the Pilots Fed intros page?! Well I'm your 'friend', Kyla, who apparently stood you up." She took a staunch posture with a slightly amused grin. "Surprised? Here I am, sweet cheeks, in the flesh!"
I blinked in surprise. Talk about coincidence...
"Well, well, well!" I retorted. "So you're Kyla Emmerich, hmm? I'd like to say it's a pleasure to meet you, but I abhor telling lies. As for my remark about waiting for a friend, that was simple politeness. A quality about which you clearly know very little."
What a pity, I thought. We'd got off to such a nice start, too. Kyla arched an eyebrow once more.
"Hey now," she said. "I can be polite, just not when some goody-good acts like she's better than me because she's afraid to live a little." She cast a quick glance around the mall. "You picked a clever spot, though. Safety in numbers huh? I guess coffee is off."
I felt incensed at the sheer cheek of the woman.
"You know nothing about me!" I replied, angrily. "And I certainly don't need help from anyone else in dealing with the likes of you. But surely you can't blame me for arranging to meet you in a public place? Or did you hope to avoid attracting attention by politely asking if you could rob me?"
Kyla grimaced at the remark. "Sweetheart, I am a smuggler. I'm not a pirate, or a petty thief for that matter. I don't steal stuff, I slip it past the noses of law enforcement." Her smirk returned. "Though it doesn't look much like you have anything I'd want to steal anyway. Now are we going to settle this, or stand around squabbling? Every minute I stand here with you is a minute I am not doing something less dull."
"Smuggler. Pirate. Thief. Call it what you will. The fact remains that you still set out to take advantage of honest, hard-working people, and you seem to take a perverse delight in it, too. Instead of eyeing me up and down to see if I've anything worth stealing, perhaps you should take a long hard look at yourself. You might not like what you see."
Kyla's mouth opened, but no words came out. I'd evidently struck a nerve with my remarks.
"Well," she started, "if you must know..." She stopped, opening her mouth again, but freezing. She turned her gaze to the ground. Her voice was more solemn as she finally began to speak.
"You know what? Frak you. My perverse delight, as you call it, is the reason why my brother will be able to afford to go to university and chase his dreams. It's the reason why my mother only had to serve half her contract as an Imperial slave after a bunch of corpo thugs tried to take her home away."
Her eyes met mine with a piercing gaze. "So yeah," she continued. "I take delight in it, knowing that mum doesn't have to work for some shithead politician, and my brother can have a nice life when he grows up."
Kyla relaxed her gaze and shook her head slightly.
"Slander me all you want," she went on. "It means nothing to me, sweet cheeks. What I do pays good, and I'm not going to change it just because some perfect little angel gets a bit uncomfortable when I smuggle some onionhead to a station full of newjacks and over-worked cops."
I realised that I'd opened an old wound of some kind. The brash Kyla Emmerich was evidently more vulnerable than she tried to let on, and I began to feel sorry for her.
"I see," I replied, in a softer tone. "You don't do it for yourself, but because you have a family to support. I understand that, honestly I do. But there are other ways of making money. Legal ways."
Kyla's shoulders slumped a little. "The legal ways barely paid for food and gas," she explained. "And gods help me if I ever had to repair any serious damage. You don't understand, Jem, once you get a taste for the black market, once you don't have to worry so much about how you're going to fix that leaky fuel line, it's hard to go back."
And then her annoyingly confident smirk returned. "Though, I'll admit it, I do enjoy the rush of swooping into a station undetected, or outrunning the cops and losing them in a planet ring."
Just when I thought we were making progress...
"You're right, Kyla," I said. "I don't understand about the black market. But I do understand about obsession. It starts one day without you realising, like an itch. You scratch it, but it doesn't go away. So you scratch it some more, and you keep on scratching, day after day, until it bleeds. When that day arrives it's already too late. You've already begun to rely upon the pain, and you don't worry so much about how much it hurts. You just keep scratching, and it's too hard to go back. But the itch is still there, tearing away at you. So what do you do, hmm? What do you do to deal with the pain? You pretend to enjoy it, that's what. And before you know it, you forget you're pretending. And that's when it's got you. Then one day you wake up and realise the truth, and that is the most dangerous day of all. Because that's the day you start running."
The words just came tumbling out of my mouth. The more I spoke, the more I wondered; which of us am I talking about here? But Kyla was in no mood to consider a change of character.
"Obsessions?!" she fumed. "This isn't obession, it's fraking survival! What the frak do you know?" Kyla was visibly agitated, fighting between a mix of anger and sadness. Then, noticing that she was receiving looks from passers-by, she regained her confident smirk.
"And you're wrong," she went on, "I don't pretend to enjoy it either. It's what I do, and it's what I am good at. You may not like it, Jem, but it's a cruel 'verse out there, and we have to find our own ways to survive."
I was not to be deflected so easily. "That's precisely what I mean! You are so obsessed with smuggling as a means to survive that you won't consider any alternatives." But I could tell from the look on Kyla's face that I was obviously not going to change her mind...
"Look," I said. "I know it's a cruel 'verse. And you're right, we do what we must to get by. Believe me, I'm no stranger to that myself, and I'm far from perfect..."
I let the sentence trail off. No need to go into details about my own imperfections, I thought to myself, wryly.
"All right," I continued, "so the legal ways may not pay as much, but at least I don't go through life looking over my shoulder all the time. I fully accept that you're good at what you do, because you've told me so. But what happens when your luck runs out? When you don't make it past the starport scan, or when you're not quite quick enough to lose the cops? How will you support your family when you're in prison? If you think that can't happen, then you must be either stubborn or stupid. And I certainly don't think you're stupid."
But I did think she was afraid of something. Kyla looked to the ground again, and then her lips curled into a smile.
"I'm sure I'll be fine, Jem," she said, looking back up at me. "I'm sure you know how cold the Diamondback runs. And yeah, I am stubborn, and I'll happily admit that. This kind of life makes you that way. You have to be persistent or you slip up, and that is when the authorities catch up with you."
She sighed. "What alternatives do I have anyway? I already told you I could barely scrape by through legal means, and I'm not a killer, so that rules out reaping or merc work. So, what? Just go back to truck driving, earn frak all and then I can't help my family again? If my father wasn't such a wanker and didn't bugger off the way he did, maybe I would consider going legit, but it's just not viable, Jem. Only a select few get rich off trucking."
It was hopeless to try any further. "Kyla, you are like the proverbial horse that can be led to water but not made to drink."
I gave an involuntary shiver at another childhood memory.
"That was one of my papa's favourite sayings," I said, smiling. "He said a lot of things, bless him. Another one was, 'It takes all sorts of people to play the same game'. I used to think he was referring to games like Monopoly or Topflight Treacherous, but he was actually talking about real life." I fought back the faint beginnings of a tear. "You and I are simply different sorts, and that's all there is to it."
Yes, I thought. We are different sorts. Entirely different. So why the fuck do I envy her?
Kyla sighed deeply. "The proverbial water was a dried up, dirty pond by the time I got there. But let me ask you something, Jem. Why does it bother you so much, the fact that I smuggle for a living? I don't hurt anyone. I never touch slaves. The worst that could come of it is that someone smokes a little too much onionhead and ruins their night out. So why would I drink the muddied water when there is wine right next to it?"
I looked at Kyla, anger rising in me once more. "Why am I bothered? I'll tell you why I'm bothered! I'm bothered because it's common criminals like you who get to take the wine, and decent, hard working people like me have to make do with the bloody muddy water!"
Kyla's smug grin returned. "And there it is," she said, triumphantly. "You are jealous! So it's not because you're a goodie two-shoes; it's because you envy me. Well, sweet cheeks, I am not without empathy. I've already divulged my situation so I can't really rub it in your face. I'll be honest, sometimes I envy the truck drivers that don't look over their shoulders all the time, but it is what it is."
At that moment the hasty young man reappeared, having clearly wasted little time in getting a drink or three down his neck. He sidled up and looked at me through bleary eyes.
"Hello, gorgeous," he drooled. "Y'know what? I mus' be a snowflake, 'cus I jus' fell f'you."
"That's too bad," I replied, "because I'm way too hot for you."
The young man frowned, and then switched his attention to Kyla. "How 'bout you? You're so beautiful, you made me forget my pick up line."
Without hesitation, Kyla reached under her jacket, pulled out a pistol and aimed it at the inebriated man. "Call me beautiful again, I dare you," she threatened, her voice full of menace.
The man flinched. "Alright, alright, fuck! I'm goin'! You're not my type anyway." He turned and stumbled off, barging into more people as he went.
Kyla reholstered her gun. "I swear to Gods, some people, huh?"
I shook my head in total disbelief.
"Is that a typical example," I demanded, "of how you deal with people who irritate you? Pull a gun on them? I suppose I should count myself lucky that I'm not lying on this deck in a pool of my own blood by now! Keep that thing out of sight, or you'll get us both arrested. I'd rather not spend any more time in prison, if it's all the same to you."
"Jemine," sighed Kyla, "I have no intention of shooting you. I keep it with me as a precaution, in case I am threatened," she raised her voice toward the drunk man stumbling away amidst the crowd, "or some drunken smelly arsehole tries to pick me up!"
Kyla's brow furrowed as she turned back to face me again. "But what's this about prison?" she asked. "You just said something about not wanting to spend any more time in prison, like you'd already been in one. Is there something you're not telling me, sweetcheeks?"
I'd hoped that Kyla hadn't noticed my little slip of the tongue. I shrugged.
"All right," I said. "A few months ago I was arrested at Sol on suspicion of murder. I was remanded in custody pending trial at a prison near New York City on Earth. New Albion Correctional Facility For Women, to be exact. Anyway, I was there a week or so. Then the police found a confession written by someone else, so they let me go. But it was an experience that I don't care to go through again."
Kyla grinned in amusement. "So... murder? That was unexpected. Should I be counting my blessings that I am not currently face down in a pool of blood? But then again, you don't strike me as a woman who would kill willingly."
"Appearances can be deceptive," I replied without thinking. "That is, I don't ... What I mean is, weren't you paying attention? The murder charge against me was dropped after someone else confessed."
"Yeah," said Kyla. "I heard you. Innocent as charged. But I'm thinking that maybe you're not such a goody two-shoes after all."
And, of course, she was right. I had murdered a man in cold blood and, what's more, had somehow got away with it. I was really in no position to lecture anyone about right and wrong.
"Look," I said at last. "I could do with a drink. The offer of coffee still stands, if you want it. Or would you prefer something stronger? I hear there's a good bar on this starport."
Kyla nodded. "Yeah, I'll take you up on that drink offer. I need something strong. This place is giving me a strange vibe." She paused for a moment, and I got the district impression that she was feeling more uncomfortable than she was letting on. "If anything, at least a gin could be something we agree about."
We walked along the crowded mall, ignoring the persistent hasslers who tried to entice us to their respective bars, diners and tattoo parlours. Presently we found the place we were looking for.
The Ingabar – short for Inara Galactic Bar – was certainly a popular spot. It was dark and smoky, with multi-coloured neon lighting picking out tatty strands of tinsel. Discreetly-placed speakers blared out music from Radio Sidewinder, and posters on the walls advertised gigs by the resident star DJ, Janten Groove.
The numerous tabled and seated cubby holes were largely occupied by patrons of various types; pilots and their crews, tourists and passengers, plus a handful of others that defied ready identification. The buzz of their diverse conversations filled the room.
Above the well-stocked bar were several holo-screens, constantly displaying Galnet news and sports programmes or advertisements for the latest CQC championships. The bar itself had pretty much everything one could wish for in the way of drinks, including Pegasi Moon and the ubiquitous Old Sol.
"We're in luck, Kyla," I said as I scanned the room. "There's an empty alcove over there. Come on, let's take a seat and order our drinks."
We made our way to the empty alcove, being careful to avoid treading on broken glass and puddles of spilled alcohol. The smell of a mix of various alcohols and whatever else that filled the air was an unpleasant combination.
As we took our seats in the empty booth, I glanced at Kyla and smiled. This encounter had certainly not turned out in quite the way I had imagined. After my initial doubt as to whether she would even show up at all, Kyla had defended her chosen lifestyle with a passion I had not expected. Our quarrel had developed into a truce of sorts, and now here we were, sitting in a bar together almost like friends.
Kyla pulled up a menu on the table-slate. "Well, at least they have a good selection," She said. "There must be a reason why the Draconis Dumbfire is so cheap. I know what I won't be getting!"
She cackled slightly as she skimmed down the list of available drinks. "I had a friend who used to drink Dumbfire when she was a newjack. She said it tasted like burning toilet water, but it was all she could afford at the time."
I cast my eye over the extensive drinks menu.
"I see they sell Toolfa Gin here," I remarked, happily. "An old friend introduced me to it shortly after I became a spacer. If you've never had it before, then you're in for a treat. It's mildly hallucinogenic, and affects the senses of hearing, touch and smell. I'm surprised it isn't illegal, to be honest. Everyone reacts to it differently, but I think you'll like it."
The time had come for me to relinquish my moral high ground. Besides, I didn't deserve to be there; I was by no means the goody two-shoes Kyla perceived me to be. I leaned hesitantly towards my new acquaintance.
"Look, Kyla... perhaps I was a bit rash in saying some of the things I did about you. And perhaps you and I are actually far more alike than either of us realise, deep down. So, how would you feel about us making a fresh start?"
Kyla looked up at me with a strange expression on her face. For a moment I thought she was about to launch into another tirade against me, but instead she gave me a cheeky smile.
"Well," she began, "we started off alright, so yeah, I am willing to forgo our differences. I don't think you're a bad person, Jem, and I like that you stick to your guns no matter what. Such a trait is rare."
She looked at the menu again. "So, Toolfa gin huh? Haven't heard of that one. Sounds like an adventure! Do you have any funny stories about it?"
"Funny stories? Well, after I became a spacer I spent quite a lot of time in and around Eravate. There was a bar on Cleve Hub called The Black Hole. It's not there now, but back then I went in whenever I visited the starport. Anyway, I was talking by k-cast with Marky, the friend who'd told me about Toolfa gin in the first place. 'Guess what I'm drinking?' I said. 'Toolfa gin and tonic?' he said. 'You clever boy!' I said, 'and they're doubles, too!' I was halfway through my fourth by this time, and the room was spinning. Marky said something about watching out for Kokarian swamp squids, whatever they are, and then I passed out. I woke up in my room the next day with no recollection of how I'd got there. I had a thumping headache, and because I'm allergic to sobriety pills I just had to deal with it. I was never a big drinker, you see."
The story wasn't really even remotely funny, but Kyla gracefully laughed anyway. Just then a waiter arrived with our drinks.
"Now," I said, "you'll have to tell me how it affects you. It takes a few minutes to start. For me, first I hear a man's voice whispering my name. Then after a few minutes I feel a hand on my thigh. And finally, a bit later, I can smell rotting fish. Bottoms up!"
"I went to Eravate once," Kyla said, thoughtfully. "Somehow a job ended up taking me to Russell Ring, although I didn't stay long. Some guy had shot a bounty hunter on a docking pad and then high-tailed it out of there. There was a fair bit of commotion, so I didn't hang around." She raised her glass. "Now it's time to see what this Toolfa gin is all about."
She clinked her glass against mine, and then knocked the whole contents back as fast as she could. She grimaced slightly as the burning took hold, but smiled once it wore off.
"Whew... Now that is some good gin. You have taste, Jem!" She said.
I smiled, and took a sip from my own drink, at the same time watching Kyla for the first signs of reaction to the gin's hallucinogenic effect. A few minutes passed, and Kyla quickly jerked her head to the right.
"I feel... like there's someone putting their hand on my shoulder... But... there is no one... This is so weird! I want to touch their hand, but there's no hand!"
She started giggling a little. "It feels kinda... comforting actually."
Moments later, she began darting her eyes around the bar. "Okay, now I hear... music? No... It's some kind of chiming. What is that?"
She had experienced the touch and sound, so there was only the smell to come...
"Oooh!" she exclaimed, suddenly sniffing the air. "I like that smell! That is nice. Like sweet berries from my home on Valhalla in Aymifa. You should visit there sometime."
Kyla's expression was now one of pure joy, thanks to the effects of the Toolfa Gin. I was still waiting for my olfactory hallucination. She signalled the bartender for another round.
"So," I said, "what's next for the Valhallan Vixen? Another smuggling trip?"
Kyla leaned back, looking a little pensive. "Nah... I don't know, I kind of want to get away for a bit. You could say the last couple of weeks have been... Well," she looked down at her empty glass, "dramatic." She sighed. "Yeah... I just need some time to myself. Not sure where I will go yet, but probably far away. I should probably go see my family in Aymifa first though. It's almost my brother's birthday."
As Kyla finished speaking, the third and final stage of my own Toolfa experience kicked in. Why, I wondered, did it have to be rotting fish? Why couldn't it have been something nice and flowery, like Kyla's sweet berries? Oh well, two out of three wasn't bad...
Kyla chuckled and said, "I take it you're up to the rotting fish phase?"
I nodded in reply. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted the most gigantic man I'd ever seen in my life entering the bar. He wore a black tactical armour suit, and his face was obscured by a mirrored visor. He strode across the room at an unhurried but purposeful pace, then stopped next to an empty cubbyhole. He looked like he could snap someone in two with just his eyelids...
I tapped Kyla on the arm. "Don't look now," I said, "but the most enormous man has just walked in. Honestly, he's huge! Definitely not the type to argue with. He's simply standing there, gazing around the room."
Kyla glanced quickly at the hulking tank of a man.
"Shit!" she said. "Last time I saw anyone in armour like that, I ended up waking up in the brig of a starship... It's a long story, but let me tell you that driving an SRV half way around a moon was not how I was planning to spend my day. The short story is, they were slavers and I was lucky someone shot them down and I was able to escape."
The waiter returned to our table with two fresh glasses of Toofla gin. Kyla threw him a generous tip.
"Bottoms up, Jem."
As we clinked our glasses together, a woman approached our table. She was somewhat waifish with sleek, bobbed blonde hair, dressed in a tight white leather dress and knee-high boots. Her fingers were adorned with silver rings set with various semi-precious stones.
"Pardon me, girls," she said in an accent that reminded me of my friend Nathalie Hudson. Beaming a bright smile, the woman nodded to our glasses. "Is that Toolfa gin?" she asked.
Kyla downed her drink in one go, and then looked up at the newcomer. "It was, but now it's just an empty glass."
The waifish woman grinned, a flash of intensity in her eyes. "It has quite an effect on me!" she laughed. "I won't embarrass you by having one myself, but could I get you two another round?"
Tilting her head, she extended her hand in greeting. "My name's Apollonia, by the way."
"That's very kind of you," I replied, adding, "I'll have to be careful though, this was my second one. My name's Jemine, but people usually call me Jem."
Kyla took Apollonia's hand and gave it a brief squeeze. "I'm Kyla, and yeah, I guess I couldn't say no to another drink."
I shuffled along the cubbyhole bench-seat so that Apollonia could take a place between Kyla and me. "Honey," I said, "your cheekbones are to die for! And that's a gorgeous dress you're wearing. Is it House Of Lalande, by any chance?"
Apollonia's grin widened at the compliments. "It is indeed a Lalande original!" she replied, looking down her tight-fitting dress. "You have a good eye for haute couture, cherie!"
She waved to a waiter, and gestured to the empty glasses on the table. A couple of Toolfa gins were promptly brought over.
"I'm here on business from the Pegasi region," she explained. "Where are you girls from?"
"Well," I began, "I'm originally from an agricultural world in LHS 3447. My parents were, umm... travelling entertainers. I left home just over eighteen months ago to... to see the galaxy. I've spent a little bit of time at Sol and Beta Hydri, and nowadays I'm working for a faction in Bactrimpox, not far from here."
I took a sip from my drink, and inwardly congratulated myself on having finally learned not to tell total strangers everything about my sordid past.
"I have to confess," I continued, "it was simply down to good luck that I recognised your dress as being a Lalande. There was a picture of it in Valentina! magazine a couple of months ago, and it stuck in my mind. I do have two or three of their dresses, but they were nowhere near as expensive as yours."
Then, with a start, I realised that Apollonia had said she was from Pegasi. I began to feel a little uneasy, and wondered why this woman from pirate space was taking such an interest in Kyla and me.
"Actually," I said, "Kyla and I have only just met. I don't know where she's from."
Kyla's own suspicions were clearly also aroused. Picking up her drink, she nodded a thanks to Apollonia before knocking it back. "Avalon," she lied. "I'm from the Avalon system. But don't mistake me for a poncy, stuck-up twat with a stick up my arse. Imperial by birth, and that's it."
Apollonia nodded enthusiastically to me, still beaming her congenial smile.
"Your parents were entertainers, Jem? Ah, the glamour! You must have been so lucky!"
I gave Apollonia a wry grin in return. "It was hardly a glamorous life, I'm afraid. We simply travelled from town to town, eking out a living by entertaining the farmworkers for a few credits here and there. I was taught how to dance by my mama. She was classically trained, you see. My papa did the best he could. We were regarded as little more than common vagabonds, not to be trusted. It was a hard life, and we did what we had to just in order to survive."
Kyla finished her drink, thumping the empty glass firmly down on to the table. "Gods, and I thought my childhood sucked," she said with a slurred voice. "Still, you turned out to be quite a nice woman in the end, Jem."
Apollonia nodded in agreement. "Indeed, cherie! She is quite beautiful, non? And a trained dancer!"
With graceful movements, she smoothed her dress and crossed one leg over the other, her knees pointing towards me.
"And no," she continued, "it is not always a glamourous life. But the true artisan sees beyond that. Is there a more noble art than bringing joy to others? A song, a dance, even a kiss can bring light to those who tread the darkest paths."
She stared at me, her eyes flashing with a deep intensity. "You must be very proud of your mother."
"Yes," I replied. "I am proud of mama. She was wonderful. She gave up a comfortable life when she decided to leave home and go on the road with papa. They loved each other very much. But I was always papa's little girl. He was forever telling me such stories! One of his favourites was a bedtime story about the giant dragon which lives at the centre of the gal-- "
I stopped mid-sentence in sheer disbelief at what I had just seen. Kyla shot me a puzzled look.
"Toolfa gin," I said, slowly, "doesn't produce visual hallucinations, so I can only assume that I have actually just seen a man enter the bar wearing a brown fur singlet, shorts and fuzzy slippers. Now he's gone to sit beside a woman in a private booth. Perhaps it's her birthday."
I pointed out the private booth to Kyla and Apollonia. Standing next to it was the giant man I had spotted coming in earlier. Seated in the booth was a petite woman, wearing a tailored black suit over a red vest-top, her black hair in dreadlocks tied up in a top-knot. In the dim light I could make out that her face was adorned with ornate tattoos. She looked arrogant, confident, and even a little frightening.
Kyla, on seeing the muscular man in the brown fur singlet, gave a quick chuckle. "Okay, who called in the circus?"
Then, suddenly, the black-suited woman in the private booth stood and walked straight across to our cubbyhole and beckoned to Apollonia. Apollonia nodded, and then turned to Kyla and me.
"I'm so sorry, would you excuse me for a moment?"
As soon as Apollonia stood, her arm was seized roughly by the dreadlock-haired woman. The blonde was led a few steps away, whereupon a glowing ornament was unceremoniously pinned to her dress by the woman from the private booth.
"That does not go with my outfit!" Apollonia objected to the woman, only to receive a steely glare in return. Then, pouting, Apollonia spun on her heel and stalked out of the bar. The dreadlock-haired woman returned to her private booth, picked up a glass and hurled it at the brown fur costumed man with a loud, angry shriek.
Kyla and I simply sat, open-mouthed, gaping at what had just taken place. My incredulity gave way to a wave of drink-fuelled indignation. I stood and took a few paces towards the private booth.
"HEY," I yelled, at the top of my voice. "DREADLOCKS! YES, YOU!"
On hearing my shout, the woman looked up at me, her expression a mix of contempt and surprise. She certainly appeared angry, and the behemoth next to her fixed his gaze on me. But It was too late for me to retreat now, so I took a deep breath and gave the woman a piece of my mind...
"You interfering little busybody! My friend and I were having a nice conversation with Apollonia until you waded in, all high and mighty! What are you, her mother or something? And how dare you throw a glass at the stripper? I mean, he may look totally ridiculous, but he was only doing his job. You're nothing but an out-and-out bully!"
I turned back to Kyla, and picked up my handbag. "Come on," I said. "Let's see if we can find Apollonia. She can't have gone very far."
I dashed out of the Ingabar, with Kyla in hot pursuit. Once outside, I looked up and down the still-bustling mall for Apollonia.
"She must still be nearby," I said. "It's only been a few minutes since she left the bar. Oh, there she is... APOLLONIA! WAIT FOR US! Come on, Kyla!"
The diminuitive blonde turned at the sound of my voice and, smiling, gave me a cheery wave.
"Well," she exclaimed as Kyla and I reached her, "that was awkward! Let me explain to you. That woman with the dreadlocks, she is my boss. Her name is Marsha. The guy in the furry suit was her crazy ex. Real crazy, as you saw! He is always doing things like that, trying to embarrass her in front of her clients."
Apollonia glanced back in the direction of the Ingabar, her expression and voice full of sadness and pity. "Poor Marsha, she just can't leave her past behind and get on with life. Is not that terrible?"
I gave a sympathetic nod. "I do understand how your boss feels, Apollonia," I said. "We're all saddled with memories and experiences that we'd rather forget. I'm sorry I yelled at her and called her a bully. I'm sure she's really very nice."
The hallucinogenic effects of my Toolfa gin were proving more than usually persistent, and I desperately needed something to take away the smell of rotting fish. A nearby neon sign advertising a café caught my eye.
"Listen girls, how about a coffee? There's a place over there, on the far side of the mall. We can carry on chatting over a Mars Mocha Supreme. I'm buying!"
Kyla smiled her agreement. "Coffee sounds really good right now. I don't think I need any more alcohol. I feel like I need to be somewhat in control."
The three of us entered the cafe, made ourselves comfortable on a sofa, and ordered Mars Mocha Supremes from the attentive service drone. I turned to Apollonia.
"You said you were here on business. What is it you do, exactly? Anything exciting?"
Apollonia smoothed out a non-existent fold in her immaculate dress. "Marsha and I, we are éclaireurs de talent," she explained. "Talent scouts. We travel from system to system, looking out for singers, dancers and entertainers for promoters and venues in the Pegasi sector."
She frowned, and stared down at the table top.
"It's not easy, I have to say," she went on. "Pegasi gets an unfair reputation. There are a lot of good, hard-working people out there, just trying to live happy lives."
Banishing the frown with a broad smile, she fluttered her long, gorgeous eyelashes at me. "It's good to know that we can bring them a little sunshine to help with that."
"That sounds uhh... wonderful," Kyla interjected, with a barely perceptible grunt. "Too bad I can't dance for shit without several drinks beforehand, if you could even call that dancing."
Kyla took a sip of her coffee. "Well, shit!" she said with a smile. "This reminds me of home a little. Mum used make hot chocolates for me that were very similar to this, without the coffee of course. She still won't tell me what she put in it."
Apollonia made no comment, but kept her gaze fixed expectantly upon me.
"I'm afraid," I said to her, "that all the stories I've ever heard about Pegasi involve pirates and slave trading. I never thought there'd be much call for entertainers there."
Of course, I thought to myself, it all depends on the type of entertainment you've got in mind. And I'm not exactly a stranger to one type in particular.
"Have you found any promising talent here?" I asked, noticing Kyla's raised eyebrow.
Apollonia's eyes flashed with even greater intensity. "As I said, cherie, Pegasi gets a bad reputation, sure. But do you really believe that everyone there is a slave-trader, drug dealer or weapons trafficker?"
Her voice raised slightly, becoming impassioned. "Mais non, of course not! Millions of people out there are trying to lead ordinary lives, struggling to make ends meet. Some succeed, some lose. Just like in the Empire or Federation. The people of Pegasi are no different to any other, cherie. They feel pain and loneliness. They crave entertainment and love, like everyone does. I for one am proud that I can bring that to them."
"Well," said Kyla, brusquely, "I'm sure there's plenty of fine talent around this starport. Have you had much luck at all? I'll bet the red light district is bursting with talent. I can't say I know from experience, of course, not having been there myself."
Apollonia blinked. "The red light?" she said, sounding offended. "What kind of talent do you think I'm looking for? I'm not interested in dock-knockers, I'm looking for dancers and singers."
Then, smiling angelically, she turned back to me. "Vraiment," she continued, "dancers and singers, with natural beauty and instinctive talent, oui?"
I put down my coffee cup and tilted my head at Apollonia. "You mean me?" I asked. "Well, I'm awfully flattered, I must say! It's been quite a while since I danced properly, I'm afraid. The last time was on my birthday, back in April. My boyfriend and I went to a grand ball in a place called London, on Earth. It was wonderful, though poor Sam was exhausted by the end of it, bless him! And I'm sure that Kyla didn't mean to imply that you were looking for, umm, dock knockers."
But I knew perfectly well that she did, and I was inclined to agree with her. Apollonia's smile slipped.
"Ballroom dancing?" she said, quietly. "I must admit, cherie, I do not think there is much call for that particular style in Pegasi." Then, with a wave of her slender hand, she dismissed the subject.
"And you have a boyfriend?" she asked me. "Delightful! Where did you say he was based? Earth?"
Kyla smirked. "Why?" she blurted out, unthinkingly. "Are you going to size him up t—" She quickly covered her mouth, and looked back to me. "Ehem, yeah, Jem. You never told me you had a boyfriend. Is he nice?"
If Kyla had hoped that her unfinished insult had passed unnoticed, she hoped in vain. Apollonia gave Kyla a poisonous glare, then swiftly recomposed her congenial demeanour and returned her full attention to me. I carried on the conversation as if nothing had gone amiss.
"His name is Sam," I replied in answer to Kyla, "and yes, he's very nice. His parents are from Sol, but they moved to Beta Hydri before Sam was born. We've been together for over eighteen months now. Sam's a bounty hunter, and hates pirates with a passion. When he was in the Federal Navy he lost his brother and a good friend in a pirate ambush at Rotanev. He's 25, four years younger than me."
Having satisfied Apollonia's curiosity about my love life, it was my turn to change the subject.
"So," I asked, sweetly, "precisely what kind of dancing is popular in Pegasi, Apollonia?"
"The same kind of dancing that's popular anywhere, cherie," she replied. There was a playful twinkle in her eye, but then, when she next spoke, her voice held a slight hint of irritation.
"I do not know why you think Pegasi is so different to everywhere else," she said. "We are not aliens, non?"
Kyla's eyes narrowed. She was clearly struggling more and more to keep her thoughts to herself under Apollonia's increasingly intense glare. "I'm sure there's nice people out in Pegasi," she said, trying to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. "But the rumours coming from there don't help the reputation."
That was enough for Apollonia. "Rumours!" she snapped. "That's all they are! Maybe you should learn to trust your own experience, rather than what you heard from the last loser you picked up at a bar!"
Kyla shot Apollonia a deep frown, her patience clearly having been finally pushed beyond its limits.
"Excuse me, princess!" she began, nostrils flaring. "First, I have some fraking standards when it comes to who I pick up at bars, and second, you want to know about my own experiences? OK, then let me tell you about a group of thugs from Pegasi who plucked me from a starport I was minding my own business in, and decided that I would be a nice fit for whatever fraked up operation they had going there!"
Kyla's face was now filled with anger, her gaze almost as intense and fiery as Apollonia's.
"You try sitting in a fraking brig of a starship," she went on, "listening to people telling each other in explicit detail what they'd like to do to you when they get to whatever shithole of a backwater in Pegasi they were heading to! You try driving half way across a fraking moon in an SRV to reach a settlement, hungry, thirsty, exhausted, hoping to hell that you're not just heading straight towards another drugged-up, sex-starved pirate clan, and praying to the gods that you'll be able to get a transport home!"
Kyla leaned towards Apollonia, so that the two were almost nose to nose. "You try coming out of that without any reservations. Rumours become very convincing when you're merely a stone-throw away from being sold as a sex slave to some sick fraks."
For a long, tense moment there was silence. Then Apollonia's eyes glittered, a twisted smile distorting her lips.
"Ho! Très bien, cherie! Quelle passion!" Then her facade crumbled away completely. Her eyes narrowed to an intense, hateful glare, lips curled into a sneer of contempt. "Clearly," she said, slowly clapping her perfectly manicured hands, "very clearly I have been focusing on the wrong girl. You, ma petit puce, you are the true talent here!"
Kyla subtly moved her hand to her side where her pistol was hidden beneath her jacket. Anger and fear were fighting for control of her face. Her piercing eyes remained fixed on Apollonia.
"I've got news for you, cherie," she said, venomously. "You're still focusing on the wrong girl. Don't even think about it!"
Apollonia lowered her eyes, and then slowly stood. Straightening her dress, she gave me a silent nod, and then shot Kyla a final glare of defiance.
"Bonsoir, chéri. Watch your step out there."
She backed away from the sofa, then turned swiftly on her heel and paced out of the cafe, tapping on her PDA as she went. Kyla and I heaved a simultaneous sigh.
"Well, Kyla," I said, "I think I can guess what type of 'dancers' they're looking for."
"Yeah. I guess it's not the style you're used to, eh?"
I frowned. "It may surprise you to learn that I've done that sort of dancing, too. Many, many times. That's a part of my life which is not something I care to go back to. Anyway, I think Apollonia finally showed us her true colours. And they certainly aren't as white as that dress she's wearing."
Kyla looked out of the cafe window onto the mall beyond, her hands trembling.
"She's gone now, thank the gods. And no sign of Marsha or that hulking brute she had with her, either."
Our unfinished coffees had gone cold, and we sat in silence for a few minutes. The day had certainly had its share of surprises. Presently Kyla took a breath and spoke.
"Jem, if she had her way, you'd be doing that sort of dancing all over again, but I'd wager that it'd be a lot worse than when you did it before. I was only one step away from becoming one of those sinister rumours once."
Kyla tossed her head back, as though dismissing an unwanted thought. "I'm glad I lied about where I came from," she said. "I had a weird vibe from her as soon as she approached us in the bar. It kinda sucks that my intuition was right, huh?"
I laughed. "Yes," I replied, "it kind of... kinda... does suck. I wanted to believe that Apollonia would prove to be an exception to those rumours, but..."
I sighed sadly, and wondered if the day would ever come when I would stop blindly trusting everyone I met. I'd learned the lesson in Pegasi, but I still had to apply it consistently in life.
I looked up at Kyla and smiled. "Look, I really need to be getting on my way. It was nice meeting you, despite the initial circumstances. And even though you may be an impetuous, arrogant crook, I... I think I'm going to miss you."
There was a grimace on Kyla's face, and for a moment I thought she hadn't realised that I'd only been joking. But then she gave a chuckle. "I think deep down inside you're not the goody two-shoes you project yourself to be. You're not all bad."
We stood, and shook hands warmly. "It was good meeting you, Jemine. I'm sure we will cross paths for another Toolfa. Fly safe out there, will ya?"
I nodded. "Take care out there, Kyla."
I watched my new friend turn and stride out of the cafe, until she disappeared into the dense crowd of the entertainment district.
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OOC bit
This log entry is the second and final gathering-together of RP posts from November 2016, featuring the spat between myself and Kyla Emmerich.
Once again, thank you to Kyla for a memorable and thoroughly enjoyable collaboration. Thank you also to Marra Morgan for her RP as Apollonia. Thank you to Simon Datura for additional advice and support. And last but not least, thank you to Xeknos for providing some additional dialogue.