A Break in the Sunlight

20. City of Games

"Goron," Jaren repeated. "Dana Goron."

"Once I tell you—twice I tell you," said the Moth. "I not see him in book."

"Then look again in book," she gritted. "Because they said at the port he was living here."

'Here' was a bank of rental coffins in the middle of the warehouse sector. A week of searching for Goron had turned up only one tiny lead. A few people remembered the heavy-set runner, but no one would say much after that, and only one–a waitress at the port bar–could tell Jaren where he had been staying.

"I look already. No more." The Mothrian crossed a pair of his arms and delivered Jaren a stubborn look through the window of his kiosk.

She swore silently. He was an idiot, or he was looking for a bribe. In either case she was straight out of luck. Balqis kept a pretty tight hold on the purse strings, and Jaren had no money of her own. Stupidly, she had refused the money Sain had offered her when she left Arcadia. She needed to lose this habit she had of looking at money symbolically. Money was just money, when it came down to it, and right now Jaren had none.

She leaned in at the window, resisting the urge to throttle the skinny little bugger in frustration. "She said it was about a month ago... Just look back a few pages."

The Moth blinked at her a few minutes, and then heaved a sigh and flopped the book open. "What is name?"

——-

"Where were you?" Balqis asked, as Jaren came through the hatch of the Nasira. She was completely kitted up, Jaren noted, khol artfully painted across her eyes, black sheath mini-dress and thigh-high bitch boots. She leaned in the bedroom doorway, as if she'd been standing, waiting.

"Out for some air." Jaren replied.

"Did you find him?"

"Who?"

"You know who." Bal said testily, fingernails rapping on the doorframe. "Well, did you?"

"I told you. I went out for some air."

"I know you are looking for your little pal, Najwa. Give me enough credit to know when I'm about to be screwed over."

"Oh, for Christ's sake." Jaren answered. "We've been over this a hundred times. Even if I *was* looking for anyone, what does it matter? We agreed to go separate ways when we got to Sona... It isn't like you need me, anyhow... you have bio-ware yourself.."

"You're better at it," came then reply. "I hate that crap, anyhow."

"You just need more patience with it."

"That's why I have you."

"Well, you'd better get to like it again," Jaren replied. "Because I won't be here forever."

"Who the hell said anything about forever?" Bal frowned from the doorway. "Screw forever. I'm talking about now."

"It's a turn of phrase, Balqis." Jaren pulled off her jacket and threw it on the lounger.

"How about a half interest?"

"Huh?" Jaren looked up at her.

"We could be partners–you and me." Bal's aspect softened, and she pushed away from the wall, approaching. "You don't have to look at me like that. It isn't such a crazy idea."

"Bal.."

"Why not stay here with us?" she continued, moving closer. "We make a good team." A hand slid up Jaren's arm. "You know we do."

Jaren shrugged her aside with a step. "I don't want to spend my life running Fresh, Bal." She crossed to the kitchenette, and the replicator.

"With me." Balqis stood where she'd been left. "You mean with me."

"I meant exactly what I said. Nothing more." Jaren keyed in a glass of water.

The other woman's voice was low and clipped. "You are such.. a goddamned... head case, Najwa."

Jaren looked up, a hand paused in midair. "Now, what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"You know what it means."

Experience had taught that now would be a good time to leave, but Jaren stood her ground. "No. I don't," she said, waiting with a narrowed gaze.

"Well, here's a newsflash for you." Bal smouldered. "The world doesn't revolve around you and your little screwed-up problems. You might think you've had it so tough.. but you're no different from a trillion other people."

"I've never said I was." 

"No. You've never said anything. I can't get two words out of you at a time."

"What is it you want to know?"

"Everything. Nothing. The truth is, I don't give a damn."

"So what, exactly, is your problem then, Balqis?" Jaren could feel her temper beginning to flare. Behind her, the rep beeped.

Bal looked at her hard, and then turned toward the bedroom. "Never mind. Get out of here," she said in a dead tone. "Go find your friend and screw his brains out. Just stay away from me."

———-

Whoever designed the SonaNet was one of two things: a practical joker, or insane. Jaren was ready to lay money on the latter.

Her excitement about gaining entrance through the back door had turned out to be short-lived as she had encountered puzzle after puzzle blocking her way to the packet streams. She'd given it up in favour of looking for Goron in person, thinking that perhaps he might know some key to getting around that she couldn't find. But now that plan, too, had turned up a cold trail, and here she was in the Nav chair again.

She spent most of the next few days jacked in, breaking only to visit the head or catch a cat nap. Balqis still wasn't speaking to her, so she bunked down with Lar.

For his part, the big Altrusian was only amused by the situation. He smiled at Bal's temper and Jaren's foul muffled curses from the Nav chair with a mild shake of his shaggy head. Sometimes he would sit in with Jaren, flipping through his magazine pages companionably while she worked, and occasionally she would even feel his broad hands on her neck from behind her, rubbing away splintered pain from the prolonged tension of being Inside.

On the third day she found what she was looking for in the classified files of the Sona Law Enforcement PWN, and all in a moment it all became clear. Clear why she had been unable to locate Goron, and clear why his associates were all so skittish when his name was mentioned. She pulled off her jack and swore so violently that Lar swung around in his chair.

According to the PWN, Dana Fedix Goron had been admitted to Stalwith prison two months ago, on charges of fraud, information theft, and murder.

Three days ago he had been executed.

———-

That night, she returned to the main cabin. The lights were out and Jaren felt her way to sit beside Balqis on the bed.

"You found him." Bal whispered, turning to face her.

"I did, yes."

"And you are leaving." It was a statement.

"Yeah." Jaren replied softly, her expression unreadable. "Tomorrow morning."

If she had expected another temper tantrum, she did not get one. Instead Balqis reached up and smoothed the blond hair out of Jaren's face.

"You don't look so good, Kalila," she whispered.

"I've had better days," Jaren replied honestly.

Bal's eyes glistened in the dark. "Me too."

Jaren kissed her, then, and did not leave her bed until the morning.

All rights reserved. Copyright Jae Darcy 2016.