Pet Noir (23 page)

These mungo legs were too high for the table they were under. In fact, the table was balanced on top of them, supported by the knees of their owner and those of another mungo sitting opposite. Mungos did that a lot in restaurants. Steakmeister had a couple of special extra-high tables just for mungo customers, but in most places they had to make do with human-sized furniture.

I moved with practiced stealth, although in that environment I could have gone crashing along with tin cans tied to my tail and no one would notice. Reaching the flicking tail, I pounced on it. Spats spun around so abruptly he bounced up, hissing at me as he drifted in air for a second.

“What the hell oh it's you.”

I grinned. “Hi, Spats. How's tricks?”

“Not bad.” He coughed, turned his head and spat out a bit of shrimp tail. “Those finny bits always get me.”

“Maybe you should switch to steak.”

“Get real. There're no steak places up around here. This joint only serves burgers, and they make ‘em way too salty.”

“You should come down and cruise Steakmeister with me and Butch sometime.”

Spats licked his whiskers. “Uptown guy. Doesn't like me.”

“Yes, he does! Come on, he's here. Come say hi.”

I led him back toward where I'd left Butch. I had just spotted an orange blob in the shadows beneath the tables when the music in the club got louder and faster. Lights swept the stage, cockroaching the dancers, who scurried off in all directions to disappear into cracks of darkness.

“Ladies, gentlemen, and equivalents, Pulsar is proud to present the one, the only…
Firefly
!”

The music became a low, heavy thumping. The swirling lights subsided until the dim orange glow of the stage's safety edging was about all that was left. A figure emerged from the back of the stage, slowly swaying as it moved forward.

At first she seemed completely dark, then flickers of pale green started to appear, tiny liquid sparks that chased up the line of a leg, down an arm, across a nicely hourglassed waistline. Hanging around with Devin has given me an idea of what humans consider an attractive female, and the Firefly definitely fit the bill.

The flickers came faster. The music got louder and the thump sped up a little. The clientele, particularly the human males, were all leaning forward, staring.

Firefly danced slowly, taking her time. The little sparks of light that had been chasing each other around her body grew larger and began to take shape. They formed into swirls and ribbons, flashing over her flesh, lighting more and more of it as the music pounded on. A starburst formed on one breast, clearly illuminating the erect nipple, then fading like a firework. The crowd roared in approval.

Dev had told me that the vice guys thought some of the designs were tattoos. They'd described the starburst nipples, for one thing. She did that every show. I had my doubts, though. Firefly was a modified, first of her kind, commissioned by the CEO of Galactic Express, of all people.

She'd been genetically altered in vitro, spliced with a gene from a
Lampyridae
species found to be compatible with human DNA. As she matured she'd been given regular doses of luciferin, building up a sufficient level in her body to enable her to create the light show.

Lot of expense for a result whose usefulness was, shall we say, questionable? As far as I could see, all she had done was prove that human males were as susceptible as
Lampyridae
males when it came to flashing belly lights as a mating dance.

Well, OK. She was profitable, too. Pulsar had been raking it in all week.

Butch crawled out from under a table to join us, glanced back at the dancer, and gave a shrug. I had to agree with him. Couldn't really see the attraction, but the faces of the crowd told me there was something at work that I hadn't perceived. Some of the guys were so caught up in the show they were staring, slack-jawed, not moving. I wondered if that had been Devin's reaction.

“Butch, you remember Spats.”

“Hiya,” Spats said, and then belched.

“Howdy. The kid says you know your way around pretty well up here.”

“He don't lie.”

“Where's the best spot for French fries?”

Spats led him off, while I stayed behind to watch the rest of the show. Firefly was standing front and center now, slowly circling her hips as her belly flashed on and off in a complicated, repetitive pattern. Both tits were doing the starburst thing now. Little flickers of light ran up her arms and legs.

Her face stayed dark, and I noticed she had dark hair, cut short. Made sense. Maximize the visible skin to give the most area to the light show.

Finally I got bored with it and wandered off to look for Butch and Spats. I found them standing over an upended basket of fries. Not my favorite, but it was sustenance. I gobbled down a few, then said good night and headed for Devin's place. When I reached the apartment I waited until no one was around, then stood on my hind legs and stretched for the access pad to open the door.

Devin wasn't there. I went to my dish, but it was empty. The cupboard where he keeps the kibble was closed. Devin keeps it locked and won't give me access. All because I gained a few ounces that one time. Well, a couple of pounds.

I hissed and started prowling. Devin's cold-storage doesn't have a lock, but neither does it contain anything even as appetizing as kibble, most days. I opened it anyway, thanking my creators yet again for my thumbs. Inside were a few bulbs of beer and a petrified slice of pizza. I sniffed it, but decided it wouldn't even be worth chewing the cheese.

The door slid open and Devin walked in, looking exhausted. His hair was ruffled and he hadn't shaved in a while. He looked at me and frowned.

“What are you doing in there?”

“I'm starving,” I said, and shut the cold-storage door.

Devin went to the kibble cupboard and dropped a handful into my bowl. I started to gobble it down. If I ate fast enough and looked pitiable enough, he might give me seconds.

“Man, I'm tired,” he said, shuffling over to his bed. He collapsed on it and leaned back, draping an arm across his eyes.

I swallowed a kibble whole. “Any luck on the missing person?”

“Nope. We've been all over the station twice. No one's seen him since he left work last night.”

“Could he have left the station?”

“He wasn't on the shuttle. We double-checked the gates and all the dock bays. No one saw him. If he left, he left in a crate.”

“Well, that's a possibility.”

Dev propped himself up on his elbows. “The new scanners would detect a living entity in any cargo. You know that.”

True. Devin and I had helped get the scanners upgraded after the sedonai mess.

He flopped back and let out another sigh. “Nope, we've got zilch. He just vanished.”

“Bummer.”

“Yeah.”

I finished my kibble and assumed an adorable, hopeful pose, but it was wasted. Devin was already snoring. The poor slob hadn't even taken off his shoes.

Too bad, because his shoes were about all I could sleep on. He didn't like me sleeping in bed with him, and my cat bed was buried in a heap of his dirty laundry. Sometimes it's fun to burrow into that, but I wasn't in the mood. I started to leave, but paused when the com unit bleeped.

Devin didn't wake up. I went over to the desk and pawed the com control.

“ALL-TEAM ALERT,” the screen flashed in red letters with the security logo above. “Second disappearance reported at 20:17.”

“Dev,” I said. “Better look at this.”

He didn't wake up, so I went over to the bed. “Devin. Yo, partner.”

More snores. I hopped up and planted my forepaws in his stomach.

“Oof,” he said, rolling over. “Dammit, Leon.”

“There's a message from HQ. Looks important.”

He sighed, then heaved himself out of bed and slouched over to the desk. “Crap,” he said after reading the alert.

He hit the “continue” button, and the holopad fired up with an ID file for one Joseph Skanecutter, beefy and cheerful, big jock type. The file said he was a scheduler on the docks.

“Looks familiar,” I said. “You know him?”

Devin shook his head. “Nope.”

He brought up the rest of the alert, which said Skanecutter had not come home from work. His wife, unable to raise her husband on com and nervous because of the previous disappearance, had called the docks and confirmed that he'd left at the shift change, then called Security.

Ordinarily we wouldn't do anything about this sort of thing. Usually when a guy (or a gal, for that matter), is late getting home, it's because they got, shall we say, sidetracked in some way. They'd turn up a few hours later not much worse for the wear, and then we might have a domestic call to respond to.

With another disappearance working, though, the chief was taking this seriously. The whole team had been called in again.

Devin grumbled his way out the door, leaving me alone. I looked at his bed, now gloriously vacant, but I wasn't really in the mood for a nap. I was feeling left out, to tell the truth, and kind of lonely.

My favorite cure for that was a visit to the prettiest feline on station. I left the apartment and hustled down to Starview Terrace, where Elsa had taken an apartment after the Megalink scandal had settled down.

The hallways in Starview Terrace were spacious and spotless. They didn't just shine, they glowed. There was art on the walls, originals. Tall trees in pots added freshness to the air. On the outermost ring, where the priciest places were, a slim line of recessed clerestory windows gave a glimpse of the stars outside, for no other purpose than to show that the residents here could afford the extra expense of window space in the frigging corridor.

I paused outside Elsa's door to smooth my coat. Since she disapproved of me, I tried to make sure I never appeared less than perfectly groomed when I came around.

I sat by the door, listening for any sign of activity inside. Soundproofing on station is designed for human comfort levels, so I can usually hear enough to tell what's going on behind closed doors.

In this case, what was going on was a bit of cooing and sighing. Sounded like Elsa was feeling just a trifle sorry for herself. Also sounded like someone else was in there. I could hear footsteps shuffling around, too heavy and acoustically wrong to be Elsa's fashionable heels.

“I wish you could stay,” Elsa said.

There was some rustling of clothes and some smoochy noises, then the door suddenly opened and a man stepped out, square-shouldered and sleek-haired, still adjusting his clingsuit. It was Chief Wright.

He gave me a long, hard look. I blinked, my eyes watering a bit at the smell of his cologne, then looked away, licked a paw and started grooming my ear. Wouldn't do to let Elsa suspect our working relationship. The chief turned to her.

“Sorry. It was a lovely dinner. Next time.”

He kissed her, and I grabbed the chance to slip into her place while she was distracted. I dashed between their legs and hid myself behind a Lunar Colonial suit rack in the entryway.

The door slid shut and Elsa passed by my hiding place. I listened while she moved around picking up stuff, sighing. Finally she shut down the lights and retired to her bedroom. I waited a bit longer before emerging, just in case she'd forgotten something, then slipped out and padded into the living room.

“Leila?” I whispered.

“Prrt?”

I heard her paws hit the floor softly as she jumped down from some piece of furniture over near the dining room. She strolled up to me, sleek and dark.

“What are you doing here, cher?”

“What do you think? I came to see you.”

“Audacious.” She lidded her golden eyes and waved her tail, looking pleased. “Mamzelle will throw you out.”

“Not if she doesn't find me.”

I rubbed against her cheek and she nuzzled back, purring. She's a lot smaller than me, so I always treat her gently. Well, almost always. Sometimes you just get carried away.

I nipped the back of her neck with the lightest suggestion of teeth. She batted me with a paw, just enough claw out to make me back off.

“Not here. She'll hear.”

She strolled to the entryway and my ears twitched up high. I didn't see Leila very often, what with Elsa's attitude, and the times she was willing to step out with me were rare indeed. I reached up and pressed the door release, and we slipped out into the corridor, trotting until we were well away from Elsa's. I slowed to a walk and glanced at Leila's rich, dark brown fur.

“You hungry, sweetheart?” I asked.

“No. Mamzelle made coq au vin, and gave me tastes.”

“How about a walk in the garden, then?”

Gamma Station's botanical garden is open all three shifts. Devin and I went in there often, since tourists tend to be drawn to the one place on station that resembled outdoors on planetside. Leila rarely got to see it, though, so it was high on her list of places to visit.

It was getting on toward third shift and the lights were low, simulating planetside night as closely as feasible. Panels that stay opaque during first and second shifts were now clear, giving glimpses of the stars. There was still enough light for Security to keep an eye on things, but it was dark enough, particularly in amongst the foliage, for a cozy rendezvous.

We strolled along a gravel path toward the Puddle. I led Leila to the shore and we strolled along it, heading for a dense thicket of bushes on the far side. Two glints of greenish light leaped and danced along ahead of us.

Leila's ears pricked and she pounced at one of the lights. It went out, then reappeared a couple of meters away.

“What is it?” she said, ears a little flat as her eyes followed its dance.

“A firefly. Must be new. I haven't seen them in here before.”

“They are very pretty,” Leila said, watching as both fireflies swirled out over the water. Her little pink tongue came out and licked her nose.