<I shall defer to your expert opinion on the matter.> Lyra sniffed. <For the time being.>
Nerishka smiled. She was used to adjusting to a new AI—having been through a few in her two hundred years with the Hand—but Lyra was refreshing.
Thankfully, this mission hadn’t required any strange mods; those were a little harder to deal with than having to share your head with a stranger for the duration of a job—which could sometimes take months. If not decades.
Mods or not, the mission was still the mission.
And right now, she had to go kill a man.
THE COMMODORE LOUNGE
STELLAR DATE: 10.05.8948 (Adjusted Gregorian)
LOCATION: The Commodore Lounge, East District, Eshnunna
REGION: Anahita, Ayra System (Independent)
Inside the private skycar, the luxury proved a little too ostentatious. Polished, red-stained wood adorned the doors and a small-chandelier hung from the roof, casting a sparkling glow that made Nerishka blink rapidly. <A little on the tacky side, Lyra?>
<Superstitious and picky,> said the AI, her tone a little haughty now.
<Not picky. I just have taste. This,> Nerishka waved a hand around the interior of the vehicle which was suddenly suffused with multicolored strobe lights and a strange throbbing beat apparently masquerading as music, <is not tasteful.>
<Well, it’s all they had that was remotely ‘not average’.>
The AI’s tone bordered on impatient and Nerishka sat back and took a deep breath. <Sorry, Lyra. I know you’re doing your best. None of my missions are run of the mill.>
Lyra snorted. <If you ask me, should we encounter a ‘run of the mill’ mission, I do believe we would both expire from the shock of it.>
<An AI with a sense of humor. I’m blessed.> Nerishka reached for a bottle of sparkling water and popped the cork.
<Thank you,> Lyra said, her tone haughty again.
Nerishka wanted to say that she was being sarcastic, but she didn’t have the heart to offend the AI—Lyra had been a little on edge the last few days.
<I haven’t been on edge. I’ve been preoccupied.>
Nerishka almost choked as sparkling water went up the wrong way and fizzled in her nostrils. <You really have to stop doing that. Compartmentalize, Lyra? You can’t be invading my thoughts all the time.>
<Well, if you stopped thinking them across the Link, I wouldn’t hear them. Although, it was almost worth it with that reaction…the whole snorting the fizzy water and all,> the AI said airily. But Nerishka knew Lyra long enough by now to tell from her tone that she was sorry.
Sorry, but amused.
Nerishka let out a laugh and reached for a napkin from the mini bar in front of her knees. <Have to agree with you there.> She dabbed her lips and then discarded the napkin and the empty bottle in the trash receptacle. <So, you going to tell me why you’ve been preoccupied?>
The skycar slowed on its approach to The Silver Needle, a three-kilometer-tall cylindrical spire that shimmered like Nerishka’s lightwand, making her feel all the more bereft. The ostentatious name was truly appropriate.
The Commodore Lounge occupied the top five floors of the tower and provided a private landing pad for its clients on its lowest floor. Nerishka’s skycar settled onto a cradle, the doors sliding open as the craft locked into place.
A woman in somber livery extended her hand and Nerishka stepped onto a ramp covered in a royal-blue carpet that glistened with streaks of iridescent silver.
Lyra hadn’t responded to Nerishka’s question; the AI seemed to be using the activity as a reason not to expand on her preoccupation—Nerishka was sure she’d felt a ripple of relief filter through to her from the AI. She’d have to pursue that matter with Lyra another time.
As Nerishka walked down the ramp, marveling at how the carpeting seemed to ripple around her like waves on a still pond, her AI finally spoke up. <How fetching. The décor matches your dress, no less.>
Nerishka smirked and slowed her steps as she approached the entrance, currently closed and guarded by two tall, overly muscular men in dark suits. Their elegant cloaks rippled in a non-existent wind, streaks of energy flowing down them—another fashion quirk on the planet. Despite their clothing’s constant movement, the guards' eyes remained fixed on Nerishka.
“Good evening Kresida. The Commodore Lounge welcomes you,” one of the men said. “We’ve received your acknowledgment of the Commodore’s policies regarding weapons. Thank you for your cooperation.”
On completion of the statement, both men gave short bows, their cloaks snapping behind them.
<Is this where you curtsey?> whispered Lyra inside Nerishka’s mind, her light tone now filled with amusement.
“Do you have any weapons to check?” the other man asked, as if they wouldn’t already know. Perhaps they enjoyed providing the illusion of complete trust.
<He’ll be watching for biofeedback. I’m maintaining an acceptable heart-rate, but maybe I didn’t need to…you’re doing well enough yourself. As I said, great acting.>
<Not my first job, Lyra,> Nerishka said privately to her AI, while pasting a regal smile onto her face. “Not a thing, boys. I’m just looking forward to my first visit to the Commodore,” she said, ending with her tone a little too high-pitched.
The security bulldog merely nodded, seemingly unaffected by Nerishka’s enthusiasm as the man shifted to allow her past.
<I wonder how good they are at detecting lies?> asked Lyra, her voice containing a hint of amusement.
<Not helping.> Nerishka kept walking, barely slowing her long-legged stride as the second guard opened the door and waved her inside.
She entered the room, the doors sliding shut behind her as the decor of the Commodore’s reception lounge made an impression on her. Everything was silver, white, or sparkling; chromed light fixtures, gem-encrusted chandeliers, white upholstered furniture and silver-veined marble flooring.
The color scheme seemed to expand the size of the space, and as Nerishka walked across the length of the floor she had a strange sense that she’d likely disappear into the white.
<You do seem to match very well.> Lyra sounded as though she approved. <Let’s just hope the next room isn’t dark brown, or royal blue.>
Nerishka let out a deep sigh. <You really need to learn not to jinx things, Lyra.>
<You really need to learn to be less superstitious. It is a wasted effort and I can never understand why humans spend their time on the prediction of ramifications of future events based on a slip of the tongue, an odd phrasing, or a complete lack of words in entirety. It is as though you set yourself up for the possibility of failure by pre-empting bad luck at every turn.>
<I agree, Lyra. Humans are a complicated lot, designed to make mountains out of molehills and gods out of mere men. But, as much as I’m fascinated by this debate, I have a mission to focus on.>
Nerishka barely hid her sarcasm but it seemed lost on the AI who sent an apologetic smile and said, <Oh, yes. I do apologize.> After a moment’s pause, Lyra continued, <I’ve detected video surveillance, including IR sensors and even sonic scanning. You would think after scanning guests at the door, one would dispense with the need for constant checking.>
Nerishka sent a shrug in her mind. <Problem is, humans are creative. If someone really wanted to get in and do some damage, there are a million different ways to do it, either as an individual or working in a team. But I do agree, the level of paranoia is…suspicious.>
Arriving at the white marble reception desk, Nerishka smiled stiffly at the grinning concierge who wore an opalescent cloak, cowl resting on his head. “Welcome to The Commodore Lounge. My name is Andrew and I’m here to help make your stay the best it can be. All purchases will be added to your tab—for which you have already supplied your codes.” He furnished a low bow and then stra
ightened. “We have a selection of rooms for your pleasure, but you are free to wander around until you find one that suits you best. You may interact with the other guests,” at the sight of Nerishka’s raised eyebrow—because it seemed incongruous to come to a bar-lounge-social establishment and not speak to the other guests—Andrew smiled thinly, “or you may wish to not be disturbed. It may sound unusual, but we do have patrons who wish to be in a social setting but would prefer to be left alone.”
<So how in the world do you tell who you can talk to or who wants to be left alone?>
Just as Lyra voiced the private question, Andrew slid a long, narrow black velvet box toward Nerishka. “This is our messaging system. Please be aware that The Commodore has no connection to external networks, nor a public one of its own. Non-verbal communication among patrons is not possible unless you establish a personal Link.”
Nerishka lifted the box from the counter and flipped it open. Inside, on a bed of blue velvet, were four tokens.
Andrew leaned closer and pointed at the gleaming disks. “Each token emits a signal that indicates whether you would prefer to be left alone, are open to verbal contact, or if you require a server’s attendance. We also have the emergency token, on the off-chance that you feel you are in danger or require medical assistance.” He bowed again. “However, please be assured that we have never had such an incident in the history of the Commodore Lounge’s existence.”
Nerishka smiled and nodded, giving off the appearance of reassurance. She retrieved the tokens and stuck them on the bare skin of her left arm, one below the other.
<All so very mysterious,> she said privately to Lyra. <Granted, loss of Link was a little obvious the moment we entered.>
“Seems simple enough,” she said aloud to the concierge.
Andrew nodded, smiling his approval. “Light pressure will activate and deactivate the signal, and you should feel the vibration that confirms the device is on.”
Nerishka decided that for now she wanted to be left alone. Just until she got the lay of the land.
<Have you still not been able to discover what happens within these walls?> Nerishka asked as she tapped the DND token. The moment she moved her finger away, she felt it emit a low-frequency vibration. <I find it hard to believe that the lounge’s administrative AI won’t part with some kernel of info.>
Lyra’s avatar shook her head. <I agree, but from what I’ve gathered, Irene—the AI here—only manages comings and goings while the interior rooms of the Lounge are blocked for privacy reasons. She’s a snippy little thing too—oh, would you look at that!>
<What?> Nerishka asked.
<Well, part of the admission agreement was that we wouldn’t reveal anything of what we see or hear outside of our own personal interactions. It looks like those tokens on your arm actually alter your memories and ensure you don’t store any data about the place.>
Nerishka held back a brief feeling of panic. Memory augmentation tech was typically the first thing to be forbidden in any advanced system. No one would ever use the Link or nanotech if it allowed others to change the very nature of who they were.
<How does anyone allow a place like this to do that to them—and I assume you faked our compliance…>
<Of course,> Lyra scoffed. <It’ll take a lot more than some Inner Stars hoity-toity lounge to get past me. Honestly, I imagine it doesn’t work on anyone with decent nanotech.>
<Interesting. Makes you wonder what really goes on in the Commodore Lounge.> Nerishka thanked Andrew—who waved a hand at another set of doors that had only just appeared on the wall to his left.
Nerishka took a breath and sauntered toward the doors.
Just another day on the job.
* * * * *
Nerishka crossed the threshold and waited until the doors slid shut behind her. <I wonder how they sort out which memories to hide and which to allow?>
<Probably some sort of proximity system. You can remember things that you were close to. They may even use these skin tokens to manage that.>
Nerishka rolled her shoulders. <Another discussion best left for another time,> she said as she walked down a long wide hallway. Plush sofas littered the sides of the long hall, offering a place to lounge.
<Sorry.>
<We need to keep on track here. What’s up with the getting sidetracked thing?> Large glass windows on either side of Nerishka gave onto a variety of rooms, each a color scheme that made her want to wince. With her sparkly dress, she was going to stick out like a beacon in each of them.
Lyra sent a mental shrug. <Perhaps I too am a little nervous. This place does not feel right. It is putting me on edge.>
<You going be OK once we get in there?>
<Absolutely. I am just recalibrating.>
<Heh?>
<The lighting, they’re using subliminal pulses to affect their patrons and any AIs they may have. This place is…intense.>
Nerishka laughed softly. <Do you mean ‘subluminal’?>
Lyra responded with a polite laugh, then fell silent for a few seconds. <There, that is so much better. I felt a little…giddy. Or perhaps intoxicated is a better word.>
<Can an AI get drunk?> Nerishka asked.
Lyra snorted. <Now who’s going off topic?>
Nerishka suppressed the urge to groan. <Right, so where am I going? Do we know where Fletcher is?>
<I will have to scan the guests. I am using facial scanning, what with the lounge blocking Link. That means you need to do a walk-through of each of the rooms until we find him.>
Nerishka entered the first room on her left, this one decorated in shades of orange, from the color of the fruit to pumpkins to coral and sunsets. Nerishka wasn’t sure if it was the color but the multi-leveled room was sparsely occupied with a mere handful of people on the bar level, a dozen in the restaurant that sat on the mezzanine to the left and only two lounging on the sofas in the sunken area to the right.
A large fountain in the center of the room spewed orange-tinted water which rose and fell in time with the music echoing from another higher level to the right where three musicians played a selection of string instruments.
<Great. Not the best time to be wearing ridiculous heels.> Nerishka glanced down her towering shoes and hoped they wouldn’t end up killing her.
Lyra smiled kindly in Nerishka’s mind. <There. I’ve readjusted your muscle tension and altered bloodflow to pressure points. That should feel better.>
Nerishka let out a soft sigh, the sound drawing a sharp, appreciative glance from a dark-haired man to her left. <Feels so much better. Thank you, Lyra. What would I do without you?>
The AI snorted. <You’d have another AI.>
<You’re right. Sometimes I think we’ve gotten too used to sharing brain space with an AI, but then it would probably be lonely in here without someone to talk to,> she paused, scanning the room for a few moments longer. <Anything?>
<No. He is not here.> Lyra sounded almost apologetic.
Nerishka ignored everyone around her, hoping her DND token was actually broadcasting her desire to be left alone. Perhaps it was working—the man who had seemed more than interested in her hadn’t even made a move to speak to her. Small mercies.
She turned around, taking care to not fall flat on her face, and crossed the hall to enter a room that was a ghastly homage to blue. At least here the decor did include decorative items like icebergs sculptures and paintings of the sky, and even blue fish and flowers.
It took only a few moments to ascertain that her mark wasn’t in the Blue Disaster either. <Pity. I would have blended in easier with icebergs,> Nerishka muttered as she exited and headed further down the hall. A room filled with red furniture and decor also yielded nothing and Nerishka headed inside the black room, her stomach doing a weird jump, as though she’d just gone over the edge of a cliff.
The black-on-black decor was intense but here and there something chrome glittered, providing relief from the nothingness that seemed to surround her.
&n
bsp; <Knowing my chances, he’ll be here—in the one place where I’ll look like a walking flashlight.>
Nerishka was able to orient herself in the room by both the black crystal chandeliers that were supported by gleaming silver armatures and the black floor-lamps and stools which stood on chrome pedestals.
<Guess I’m blending in with the chrome fixtures at least.>
Nerishka smoothed the front of the silver dress and glided inside toward the glossy black bar. She tapped the service token on her arm and scanned the interior of the room.
<You could drape yourself around that floor lamp over there. No one will notice you.>
<You’re a regular comedian, aren’t you,> said Nerishka drily.
“What’ll you have?” asked a voice from behind Nerishka. She shifted in her seat to smile at the bartender.
“Surprise me?” She gave him a seductive, half-lidded smile.
“Sweet, dry, fizzy, spicy?” he said, all business.
“Sweet, fizzy and spicy,” Nerishka replied emphatically. “And cold. But hold the ice.”
The bartender gave a short nod and turned to the floor-to-ceiling shelves lined with drinks.
<Why no ice?>
<Ice dilutes the flavor. Adds unnecessary volume so you think you got more drink but in actual fact half the glass is filled with ice.>
<Interesting. Another example of how humans hoodwink each other.>
<It’s a marketing tactic, Lyra.> The bartender returned and placed the drink on the counter, along with a bowl full of salted nuts.
<Doesn’t make it any less of a lie, does it?>
Nerishka took the drink and touched it to her lips, sipping it daintily. She was about to compliment the bartender for an excellent concoction, but he’d already flitted off, attending to a different customer. Seemed the black lounge was way more popular than the rest of the rooms within the Commodore. Nerishka wasn’t surprised.