I pulled my console from my pocket, with the intention of looking up the meaning of this red stripe, when the bartender suddenly appeared.
‘What would you like?’
‘You mean, to drink? Or just, like, generally?’
‘To drink,’ the Iyr replied, and I could only assume that there was a stern expression under that helmet.
What a humourless bunch.
‘Whisky,’ I replied. I wasn’t risking the local stuff, not after that spit-roasted rat I’d seen earlier.
‘Terran or Rykan?’
‘The real stuff,’ I answered. ‘Spelled with an H.’
The barman (or barwoman - it was impossible to tell from under these mechsuits) poured a glass, and I timidly took my first sip. Recognising that it really was the good stuff, I downed the rest of the rather small portion.
The Iyr bartender, still standing and looking at me, poured me another, and asked.
‘I shall leave the bottle, shall I?’
I shrugged - and the Iyr correctly construed that response as a “yes”. I topped up my glass, filling it to the brim, rather than having barely a splash, as suggested by the bartender’s serving.
As I sipped quietly, allowing the warm liquid to run down my throat, I pondered everything that had happened over the past few days.
This job, potentially my last, hadn’t gotten off to a good start. I had no real leads, a population of locals entirely dedicated to being unhelpful, and the heat was almost unbearable. No wonder this case had been the bottom of the pile, the last to be picked.
Trying to distract myself from the inevitability of me failing to complete this job, I pulled out Leya’s journal and skimmed through it again. It was a waste of time; without knowing how she’d encrypted it, I wasn’t going to be able to understand it. Looking through it now, it seemed as though there were sections, each cipher using different character sets. It didn’t seem like she had encrypted the whole thing at once, but maybe every now and then, whenever she had the chance? I put the journal away again in a huff; I felt destined to fail with that, too.
I spent another hour and a half or so in wistful contemplation; remembering the days of old, and pondering the route I had in front of me.
Only when I realised that my mood was turning sour, did I look around the room once again; it was time for some company. I didn’t fancy wasting my time on any more of the humourless locals - neither the quiet group nor the lone customers with the red markings - and so I fixed my eyes on the Pritan.
Soon, he caught me looking at him, and quickly, embarrassed, shifted his gaze to focus back on his book. I could tell, now, that he was staring at the page, reading the same passages over and over, distracted by me gazing at him. It didn’t seem like he was going to take the hint that he should come over.
I sighed, collected my glass and the bottle, and walked over to his table. The Pritan continued to pretend that he was transfixed by his book.
If you like that guidebook so much, why don’t you just… step outside and actually experience the planet you’re reading about.
I resisted the urge to open with this suggestion, and instead sat opposite him, continuing to look over in his direction. I was conscious, already, that the alcohol was starting to go to my head. I wasn’t usually like this; it must have been the heat.
‘Good book?’ I asked.
‘Yeah… yeah, it’s good,’ the Pritan replied, barely glancing up at me.
‘Want some of this?’ I offered, pointing at the bottle of whisky. ‘It’s good.’
As if to reinforce the point, I downed another glass.
The Pritan shook his head.
‘So, how comes you’re here? On holiday?’
Sensing that he wasn’t going to be rid of me any time soon, the Pritan put down his book and diverted his attention to me.
‘I’m… I’m, err,’ he began, stuttering over his words. ‘I’m just travelling the sector. I just finished studying and… and my dad, he said he’d pay for me to see some of the galaxy.’
‘Ah, I get it. He thought it’d put some hairs on your chest?’
The Pritan, in addition to looking nervous, now looked confused as well. He glanced down at his own, hairless chest. ‘Well… I don’t know about that. But he thought it would be good for me, if that’s what you mean.’
‘And you’ve seen a lot, sitting in bars, reading guidebooks?’ I asked, hoping the smile on my face would be enough for the Pritan to understand that I was just poking fun at him.
‘I’ve been out, too!’ he replied. ‘It’s just… Z’h’ar’s a bit of a… a cold place, isn’t it?’
‘Tell me about it. That’s the reason I chose you to come over and bother, rather than this lot.’ I nodded my head in the direction of the group of Iyr, who were currently sitting in silence, sporadically sipping from their glasses.
‘Oh. I see,’ the Pritan responded, and then, when I didn’t carry the conversation any further, asked, ‘So… so why are you here?’
I looked around the room. Nobody seemed to be listening; the group were talking amongst themselves, the lone Iyr was staring into space.
To hell with it, who’s gonna care anyway?
‘Here for work. Looking for someone. Diplomat’s daughter. From Itagurinatipilaz.’
‘Good pronunciation.’
‘Thanks.’
‘So, she’s missing?’
I shrugged. ‘Seems that way. Chances are I’m wasting my time looking for her. The people here… haven’t exactly been helpful. Don’t suppose you’ve seen her?’
I showed my new friend an image on my console’s holodisplay. He shook his head.
‘Well,’ I replied, ‘I guess that was a longshot.’
I raised my glass
