Page 45 of Pets in Space 10

To Gaerynx, the Agronomy Support department’s work area was quieter than usual.

It always seemed softer than the crisp functionality of his own department on the second floor of the main building.

Maybe it was because the one-floor building was newer, or because of the neatly ordered profusion of plants clustered near the wide windows like they were each the star of their own pot.

Or maybe it was just Amalena’s influence, bringing a subtle, comfortable vibe to the space.

Her office door was open, and she was inside, stacking things on her desk.

He hesitated for a moment in the corridor, adjusting his gear bag’s strap to stop the helmet he’d clipped to it from slamming his elbow.

He’d seen whole escort drama earlier, with Tikka and her staff being marched out of the office like disgruntled politicians who refused to admit they’d been voted out of office.

He’d also seen Amalena watching them leave.

That had taken courage, holding the guards accountable for their behavior by merely witnessing.

But he worried that she’d be branded as a troublemaker.

The company was unstable enough already.

Losing her would make it worse. He doubted anyone could accomplish what she had in growing the Agronomy Support department from a failing experiment to a viable revenue source.

If the security guards treated her like they were taking out the trash, he wasn’t sure he could hang onto his loyalty to the company that had taken a chance on him six years ago.

He stepped into the doorway and knocked twice on the frame. Amalena looked up from sliding a personal datapad into her backpack. Her intent look morphed into surprise.

“Hey, got a minute?” Gaerynx asked, keeping his tone casual.

Her pleased smile reassured him. “Absolutely.” Her gaze flickered down to the bag he carried, then back up, her eyes widening slightly. “Is that gold, pink, and lime-colored bicycle in the airsled room yours?”

The question caught him off guard. He rarely thought about the bike’s custom paint job anymore. It was just his practical way to avoid Primalum’s often-snarled city traffic and get some exercise. “Yes. It’s my usual transport. Did you see me with it?”

“No.” She pointed a finger towards his bag. “The design on your helmet matches the design on your bike. It looks custom. Whoever did the work did a great job.”

“Thanks.” A small warmth washed over him.

He’d spent weeks designing the swirling patterns that implied speed and painstakingly painting the bike and helmet in his cramped apartment.

It wasn’t often someone noticed, let alone commented on it.

Most people just saw the bright colors and called him eccentric.

Which, to be fair, was a fair assessment.

Sudden uncertainty had him shifting his weight. “Everything okay? I saw you talking to Tikka while she was being escorted by her ‘entourage.’”

“Entourage, huh?” Amalena snorted with wry amusement.

“Yeah, it was intense.” She dipped her shoulders into her backpack straps and picked up a branded carton from the Wandesi Hill restaurant.

“I need to get my flitter out of the stacker and go home and feed my cat. Can we talk this evening? Maybe around seven, if you’re up for a meal? ”

She had a cat? He hadn’t known that about her.

Focusing on the rest of her words, a surprising relief rose at her invitation.

He hadn’t realized how much he’d wanted to talk to her.

“Yeah, that works. Could we meet in Kabasi District? There’s a place called Flight Deck Seven, not far from my apartment.

Food’s decent, their no-kick drink menu is killer, and it’s usually quiet in the evenings. They take reservations.”

“Perfect.” She tapped her wristcomp, then held her arm out toward him. “Let’s share pingrefs just in case. I’ll get the coords from the traffic control system.”

He tapped his own wristcomp to complete the exchange. She gave him a brief, assessing look, her expression unreadable. “See you then.”

“Great.” He stepped back into the open area as she sealed the door and palmed the access pad to lock it.

Yet another new security feature resulting from last year’s espionage threat.

He still felt ambivalent about the biometric door locks, considering the company’s data was access-controlled via multi-factor authentication, not physical walls.

It felt a little like security theater to him.

Watching her walk away towards the building’s front exit, he felt a familiar prickle of caution.

His relationship track record wasn’t exactly stellar, and he wasn’t sure he trusted his own judgment where Amalena was concerned.

It was just a work dinner. Was her easy friendliness and actually noticing his bike and helmet just her natural, outgoing personality?

Or was there something more? And why was he suddenly paying attention to such things after being nothing more than colleagues since she’d joined the company?

He shook his head and told himself to focus. They had bigger problems right now.

A glance at the clock display made him turn and stride toward the back exit. If he pushed it, he could beat the main surge of ground traffic that usually clogged the town center.

***

“I hope your description of ‘killer no-kick drinks’ wasn’t code for ‘experimental mixes you’ll regret,’” Amalena murmured as she read the displayed menu. Flight Deck Seven’s small waiting area was becoming increasingly crowded. “I’ve had my quota of unpleasant surprises today.”

Gaerynx chuckled. “No, the drinks here are good. My favorite no-kick is the ‘Rainbow Nebula.’ Fruit juices and fizzies.”

They’d both arrived about ten minutes early.

He’d walked from his apartment, enjoying the crisp spring evening air and inured to the noise that came from the nearby spaceport.

The restaurant was busier than usual for a workday evening.

A low murmur of conversations blended with the subliminal thrum of the restaurant’s high-end acoustic control system.

Through the wide panorama windows that formed the northeast wall, lights of departing and arriving shuttles and private spaceships painted silent streaks against the deepening twilight sky.

Amalena had arrived holding a token from the automated valet in the rooftop flitter stacker.

He remembered her flyer as small and practical.

That was probably what he would go for if he ever felt the need.

With Primalum’s usually steady climate, his bicycle and canopied airsled were good enough for him year-round.

And RyoGenomica didn’t mind if the staff used company air vehicles for personal errands if they were on the way to or from company business.

She carried a short, stylish jacket over her arm.

He thought the tunic in slow-morphing shades of deep teal and comfortable-looking, wide-legged navy pants suited her.

He found himself cataloging the details – the way the tunic draped, the intriguing colored strands in her loose, dark curls and the serpentine copper band that kept her hair off her face, the understated makeup that highlighted her features without altering them.

Just artistic observation, he told himself firmly.

He’d have noted them on anyone, not just Amalena.

Their assigned table number flashed on the host display. He pointed toward the corner booth that had the best view of both the spaceport and the restaurant interior. He always asked for it when making reservations, but it felt like winning the lottery when he actually got it.

As they settled into the plushly upholstered booth, a slim cartbot glided silently to their table, chimed a brief tune twice for attention, then offered water, utensils, and napkins.

A slender, older, but very athletic-looking man in a clingy, high-fashion version of a commercial pilot’s uniform followed it. “Gaerynx! Welcome back.”

“Thanks, Y’Loro. This is my colleague from work, Amalena.” He turned to her. “Y’Loro is one of the owners and manages the place.” Amalena smiled and nodded.

“Always a pleasure to meet new friends.” Y’Loro spread his arms like a ringmaster. “Enjoy!” He bustled off to greet another table.

Since he was closer, Gaerynx took napkins and utensils from the patiently waiting cart, then told it he wanted a Rainbow Nebula and used his wristcomp to beam payment.

Amalena chose a Redberry Flat and paid, then gave him an apologetic smile as the cart glided away. “Not very adventurous, I know.”

“I don’t blame you.” He pushed a set of utensils and a napkin toward her. “Like you said, a surfeit of surprises lately.”

“So, I’m just going to plunge right in. After thinking about it, I don’t think that ‘entourage’ march out of the building for Tikka and her staff was just petty revenge.”

Gaerynx blinked. He hadn’t considered that motive for the escorted exit. Though maybe he should have. His previous startup employers had plenty of vengeful managers to go around. “Why do you say that?”

“I skimmed HuMed’s project files, trying to get a handle on what projects might get dumped in our queues while the reorg is still in progress.

My staff is busy enough as it is.” She frowned.

“It looks like a reasonable workload for Tikka’s department of twelve and hard but doable for the eight who are left, except one project marked confidential and high priority.

” She made a frustrated sound. “That one is a mess. Incomplete records, review steps bypassed with overrides, undated and unattributed entries, no clear precursor sourcing. I can’t believe Tikka operated like that. ”

“Me, either.” He had the impression Tikka had helped write the company policies and procedures for all the support departments.