The Phentari assassin chuckled. Stupid alien.
Falling for such a simple trick. Her dependence on gadgets would be her
undoing. After gaining the target’s data number from the planet’s hypernet’s
central directory, he had sent Jaloon a call using a fol probe. It registered
as a familiar number on their datapad, then attached a virus to the device
after it was answered. This allowed him to track her all over the city,
the whole system if needed.
His father had sold him the device and, until
now, the assassin thought he had been ripped off. Surely no one could be so
naive as to not have system protections built into their personal devices.
Protection against the invisible eye and the lords-above-who-would-eat-you was
one of the primal traits pounded into him as a child. But his father assured
him that these lesser species, even ones that the Phentari people were friendly
with, like the Orions, were incredibly lax and stupid. It was simply one more
sign of how the Phentari were destined to dominate the other races in the
Alliance.
Even as the target zipped around the underground
transport system, the probe perfectly followed her across the city. He patted his
hidden rifle, carefully stored in false items about his person. This was easy.
Track her until she stopped. Wait for an opportunity. Pull trigger. Reap the
rewards.
***
Jimune ran The Gizzemn- which was an insect on
the Orion homeworld often ground up and injected into female genitalia as an
aphrodisiac. It was also Orion slang for a digital whorehouse. If one supplied
an image and voice pattern, maybe some raw footage of a person moving, they
could have their fantasy molded for a reasonable fee.
A reusable polydropaline blob was dropped over a
wire skeleton and shaped with digital guidance by lasers and micro-scalpels
into as perfect a copy as could be. A modulator that mimicked voices was
installed with an operator talking dirty on the other end, feeding the client’s
experience. It felt and looked real, unless you expected the simulation
to move, then you were disappointed.
It wasn’t always used for sex. If your boss was
giving you trouble, you could recreate the bastard and beat him up. Decapitate
that pesky neighbor. Rip the tongue out of that lying politician. Or gun down
that one guy who took your parking space. The only limit was your perverted
imagination.
Jaloon was called in because the run-off from
the polydropaline was quite sticky and, if not properly maintained, could build
up and clog the nozzles. Lo and behold, her cheap cousin didn’t schedule
regular maintenance and things became fouled up during a session with a
borough president’s aide when the thing melted on the woman. Threats were made.
Permits might be pulled. Hence, the emergency call from Jimune to his
cousin.
She crawled into the filthy works and shot
suction probes down the gunked up lines, using a forced vacuum to get the stuff
moving. All the while Jimune loitered around, trying to make small talk as if
they had a healthy relationship.
“Are you going to that Gullges Day party over at
Uncle Poy’s place?”
“No,” Jaloon said, very annoyed and equally
dirty. A lot of sticky fluid was leaking all over her. “Last time I talked to
him, he got me and his son mixed up in a smuggling deal with gangsters that
nearly sent us crashing into the side of a planet on a dead ship.”
“Yeah well, he didn’t know that was how things
would play out.”
“Besides
no one celebrates that here. That’s from the old planet, Taos. I’d have to take
an unpaid day off work and I can’t afford it right now.”
“Take a sick day.”
“I’ve used them all for the year and all my
vacation time too.”
“Then claim some religious shit. A feast day for
a dead guy like the Heyzeusians do.”
“Company clamped down on that. Any religious
functions have to come out of personal leave days.”
“Isn’t that illegal?”
“Not if they do it to every religion
uniformly. No discrimination, everyone gets screwed.” She pulled herself
from inside the machine and rubbed filthy hands on already filthy overalls.
“Looks like we’re all set.”
He lead her to the front waiting room, a small
affair with a few gelatinous contour chairs and a virtual receptionist. They
touched credit sticks and the money was exchanged.
“You got everything?” he asked.
She checked her overall pockets. “Yeah, I
think…”
Crack. Tinkle.
A small hole popped into the storefront flexglass
window. Odd. She stuck her lower thumb in it. Perfectly round. Jimune shuffled
behind her. Something splattered on the floor. She turned.
Her cousin had a corresponding hole in the
center of his throat. Blood pumped out of it in spurts. Confusion wracked his
face. He teetered, then fell face first on the floor.
2019 has ended! Another long year of pandering to my reading addiction. But my folly can be your joy. For this installment I decided to list all of the books that I've read this year that I have deemed worthwhile. Again, these are just the good ones. There have been just as many that were terrible, which I will spare you. For more suggestions look at my What I've Been Reading page. Enjoy and Caveat Emptor! 
