“Thanks, man.” Zora tossed Murray an, I told you so, look but her sister had a big, used-to-be-silver arm wrapped around her shoulders and hadn’t glanced her way since they’d left the cab. “How’s the crowd?
“Rowdy as hell and ready to party.” The stadium on Cyrus 4 was small, but it frothed over with eager fans. At all six surface-level exits, the overflow elbowed and shuffled for position or a quicker route inside. Overhead, hover rafts ferried the more affluent attendees to seating in the reaches where the glowing walls curved in over the stage. “Were’s the professor?”
“Hmmm?” Zora ignored the rush of nerves and smiled.
“He’s meeting us inside.” Now Murray was paying attention. Great. “He wanted to talk to port authority about the delay.”
“Well, I wish you guys luck there.” Stanton shrugged. “Can’t see what the problem would be.” He looked to the nearest entrance and nodded. “We should get in line.”
“Sure.” Zora followed him, but she had to stifle a little warning twinge again. His eyes might always look a little shifty--hell, there were three of them--but she could have sworn Stanton had developed a nervous quality that she’d never seen him with before. She kept him in sight, kept herself between him and the others, and tried to sort out why her danger sense kept swinging into high gear around her old friend.
He looked sideways too much while they waited in line. He kept smiling too long, shrugged more than he should have. By the time they wandered through the doors, Zora made up her mind to ditch him fast. Not that she didn’t trust him. She just didn’t necessarily trust her ability to discriminate.
Yet she followed him, and by her lead, so did Rook and Murray. Zora eyed the other exits and memorized the floor layout, the stacked seat boxes, the hover disks and mini dance floors scattered between. She worked out at least three routes they could take in a pinch and she calculated how long it would take her to get to any of them.
“There’s a clear box this way,” Stanton called back over a shoulder, but he didn’t look to see if she followed. She could bolt at any point, and now was probably the time to do it.
“Hey, Mur.” She stopped walking and let her sister come up alongside. “I’m thinking we need to find our own spot.”
“Why?” Murray’s brow came down and she managed to twist her face into an expression that said something, whatever it was, was all Zora’s fault. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I just have this feeling we need to ditch.”
“Rook?” Murray turned her back on her and faced her husband. “Do you sense anything?”
“Listen, it’s not something he can really pick up on.” Zora rolled her eyes and checked the nearest escape route. Stanton had noticed they lagged a bit. He’d turned around to face her. “We need to go, Mur.”
“I sense nothing out of the ordinary,” Rook said. “The security is appropriate for an event this size and--.”
“We can’t leave,” Murray said. “Ignatius isn’t here yet.”
“Hey, Zor.” Stanton took a step back in their direction. He cocked his head and held out one hand. “You coming?”
“Oh, there he is now.” Murray pointed to an entrance two down from theirs. She raised one arm into the air and waved it calling, “Ignatius!”
Zora swung her gaze right and saw Stanton closing the gap. She looked left and felt the room tilt under her feet--or maybe it was the whole planet. Iggy stood just inside the entrance. The crowd parted and flowed to either side like an invisible river. All she saw was prince charming.
He’d bought a new suit, that or he’d packed it. Either way, he wore sharp-tailored-man from head to toe. The deep blue fabric fell in distinguished lines along his frame and a silky shirt peeked at the neck. He’d brushed his hair back, letting the high hairline show, and his glasses glinted in the neon globes hovering around the stadium.
Zora’s knees wobbled. Her throat closed up around whatever she’d been about to protest, and a healthy dose of adrenaline swirled through her bloodstream. He looked perfect--respectable, elegant, perfect. She stepped backwards and eyed the nearest exit. Time to fly, time to not face this.
“Zora?” Stanton stood at her elbow.
Across the room, Ignatius Superius I Am So Sexy noticed Murray’s wave and headed in their direction.
“Yeah,” Zora said. She slid her arm through Stanton’s and prayed he’d take her as far away as possible. “Let’s go.”
He tugged her a few stumbling paces before she forced her eyes to release Iggy and look forward. The crowd swarmed around the boxes, but Stanton’s bulk plowed a decent path. She watched the triploid’s back and tried to catch her breath, to let her heartbeat settle back to normal.
She’d almost pulled it off. Her pulse had reached a reasonable state of calm before the nearest box opened and six armed security officers poured out. When they all pointed rifles in her direction, Zora figured she’d worked out what had made Stanton so nervous.
When they grabbed her by the arms, however, she changed her mind.
“Zora Livingston,” the leader announced. “You’re under arrest.”
“Wait.” She twisted against at least six hands. The crowd had closed up on them, blocked out any view of her sister, the former-droid or Emperor Sexy. “What for?”
“Fourteen counts of piracy, six of outright theft, embezzlement, fraud, breach of contract, public nudity...” The guy’s face didn’t even twitch. He eyed a sleek data pad and rattled off the contents. “Drunken misconduct, inappropriate use of--.”
“Stop.” She caught a glimpse of silver hair over the throng and cringed. “Later, okay. Read it later.”
The security officer raised an eyebrow.
“Just take me away,” Zora said. She heard Murray’s voice over the crowd’s rumble.
“Right.” The guy nodded. His men lifted her by the elbows and started walking, thankfully away from her companions. She willed them to hurry. The last thing she needed was witnesses. She peeked over her shoulder and didn’t’ see anyone important.
She did manage to make out Stanton. The three-eyed son of a bitch leaned against the box railing like nothing was amiss. No one bothered him, and no one but Zora caught the triple wink he flashed at her as the planet’s police force drug her outside.
She growled and considered struggling. There wasn’t much point, was there? She might disturb the baby anyway. The baby. She imagined it, fifteen years from now listening to Auntie Murray’s story about how Mommy got arrested on Cyrus 4. Her life was so screwed. She watched the lights roll across the vehicle they were about to stuff her into and sighed. At least she wouldn’t have to face the band. At this point, Haley’s Tail was the least of her problems.
Next Episode ◦
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