Page 9 of Stellar Drift (Central Galactic Concordance)
Houyen entered the community kitchen and immediately regretted it.
He was assaulted by an onslaught of smells, the worst of which was the acrid stench of burned coffee that made him want to bury his nose in his sleeve.
Beneath that, he picked up the subtle, cloying scent of sour fruit from the disposal bin, the sinus-clearing tang of industrial cleaning supplies, and a musty odor he didn’t recognize but instinctively wanted to avoid.
It had been eight days since he’d woken up in his aircar, but his heightened sense of smell showed no sign of fading.
He hoped it was only a temporary side effect of the infinity fever.
Rangers Brannezzo, Delacallo, and Torishi were seated around the main table in the communal dining are. They fell silent as he entered, exchanging glances before Torishi let out a snort that was half a giggle.
Somewhere in the galaxy, Houyen thought acidly as he walked past them, a small town was missing its juvenile miscreants.
Matsurgan was still up north on his usual “pressing business,” which meant Houyen’s return from Axolotl Bend three days ago had gone unremarked.
Just as well. He’d made certain his status report was as “clean and pristine” as Sairy had so aptly described the military ideal.
He’d wondered more than once if she had service experience somewhere in the black hole of her past. But Matsurgan’s absence also meant his coworkers felt free to avoid work, leaving them more time to stir up trouble.
Brannezzo smiled with false good cheer. “Heya, Albasrey. Nice of you to finally get up this morning. Pull up a seat and tell us what you’ve been doing.”
“Or who you’ve been doing,” Delacallo added with a pointed wink. Torishi sniggered into his mug.
Ordinarily, Brannezzo would be in the Eolium, the megacity he much preferred over any part of Makaan.
Unfortunately for him, Matsurgan had appointed him temporary acting station chief for the next five days.
The title came with no actual authority except the obligation to stay on base.
Brannezzo must have done something to piss Matsurgan off.
Houyen took a small comfort in knowing that not even Brannezzo, with his seniority and schmoozy affability, was safe from their boss’s petty retaliation.
“I don’t think he likes working with us,” Torishi said, his tone one of over-the-top disappointment.
“I like working,” Houyen said mildly. It took them a few seconds to work out the implied insult.
Brannezzo’s smile tightened. “If you’re so unhappy here, why don’t you apply to join Falco Joro’s crew? I hear they’re recruiting. One of their security personnel overdosed on some experimental chem from Irakat and had to be flown to a medical center in Eolium.”
Houyen shook his head. “I don’t think Joro’s crew likes the part of the ranger job where we report people who are stealing from or damaging the nature reserve.
Just yesterday, I had to report the construction project again for illegal road clearing.
” He feigned a look of disappointment. “The drones took really good images. They probably blame me for all the fines they have to pay.”
“The boss let you submit that?” Brannezzo’s eyes widened in surprise before narrowing with a calculating look. “Or doesn’t he know?”
“Of course, he knows,” Houyen said smoothly. “He’s been on my tail about following policy. The report went directly to planetary law enforcement, with a copy to the Chief.”
Brannezzo grunted and sipped whatever was in his tall cup. Probably iced kaffa, from the smell.
“Come sit with us while Holsar is still here,” Torishi said, pointing to Brannezzo, then patting the empty chair beside him. “It’ll be like old times.”
There had never been any old times, Houyen thought, which, considering his coworkers, had turned out to be a blessing. “Thanks, but I’m in the middle of something.”
“Sure you are,” Torishi said, nudging Delacallo. “He’s spent so much time with the locals, he’s going native.” The tone oozed with insinuation.
Houyen ignored them and loaded his insulated carafe into the kitchen’s industrial-grade sanitizer. Since the fever, the scent of coffee or kaffa was overwhelming, so he’d had to switch to drinking tea, a taste he was grudgingly developing.
“I like playing with the natives,” Delacallo purred. “Say, Albasrey. Did you hear what happened in that river town, Salamander what’s-it? Something about a quarantine.”
He maintained his cool with an effort. “Salamander? Oh, you mean Axolotl Bend. Quarantine for what?”
Delacallo shrugged. “Dunno. You’re the only one who goes to any of those stupid enclaves. They’re so small, they barely have names, let alone joy houses.”
“Unless it was for a plant disease, they wouldn’t have needed to ask for my help,” Houyen said, which was true enough. They hadn’t needed to ask because he’d volunteered. He scrounged in the community pantry and unearthed a few varieties of tea.
“Relax a little, Ranger,” Torishi said, giving him a wide, engaging grin. “Matsurgan won’t be back for days. You always look busy. You’re making the rest of us look bad.”
Houyen matched his energy, offering a pleasant smile. “Not possible, Torishi. I’m cataloging mis-tagged resource surveys from twelve years ago. Want to help? I can send you the avian records.”
“Oooh, filing,” Delacallo said to Torishi, her voice heavy with mockery. “Your favorite. All that reading!”
Torishi sneered. “You’d be jumping on it if there was a hot-connect involved.”
Delacallo smiled, not in the least offended that he’d implied she’d do anything for sex. “I don’t play with coworkers, remember?”
“Me, either,” Torishi said, his lip curling as he looked her up and down.
Just then, Ranger Melekir entered the common area, took one look at the standoff between Torishi and Delacallo, with Brannezzo watching like it was free entertainment, and turned right back around and left.
Too bad. Houyen liked Melekir; she’d trained him when he’d first arrived.
But she was hugely conflict-averse and was counting the days until retirement.
The CPS didn’t usually let employees with her talent level leave, so she was terrified of drawing attention that might get her smooth exit ratfucked by Matsurgan.
Houyen busied himself with sorting his new collection of teas and slipped out the door before his fellow rangers noticed.
On his way back to his office, he reflected on Delacallo’s relative contentment.
Sadly, the pursuit of passion wouldn’t work for him.
Celibacy wasn’t always comfortable, but he wasn’t built for recreational sex.
He’d learned long ago that he needed to be friends with someone before he could be interested in them physically.
Even if he were willing to have a relationship with a coworker — which he wasn’t — no one at this duty station was his friend.
They weren’t actively trying to kill him like the corrupt team three assignments ago, but Torishi and Brannezzo would throw him off a skyskimmer to lighten the load if they thought they could get away with it.
The only person he wanted to spark a friendship with was Sairy, and he’d pretty much tanked his chances there. He was doubly remorseful for essentially blackmailing her into using her experimental remedy on the fever victims in Axolotl Bend.
He was no more fond of filing than Torishi, but his dive into the archives had paid off. While restoring missing data for a remote ranger station, he’d found a tranche of old survey records that mentioned wuzzy bugs.
As he settled in at his desk, an idea struck him.
Conducting botanical surveys was the number two item on his official list of responsibilities.
He pulled up a topographic map of his sector.
As far as he could tell, the high-altitude cloud forest on Jalkapanga Mountain had never been surveyed.
If he worked it right, he could do his job and accomplish his personal mission at the same time.
Irakat Collective, Qal Corona · GDAT 3235.018
Houyen landed his CPS flitter on the Irakat Collective public visiting vehicle pad, grateful that it wasn’t crowded.
Six days. That’s how long he’d had to wait for Brannezzo to finally depart for his extended Eolium duty assignment, giving Houyen the clear operational window he needed.
The timing was dangerously tight. The wuzzy bug season was already waning, and every passing day diminished their chances of finding an active breeding ground.
He felt the pressure as he walked toward the administrator’s office, a knot of anxiety jangling his nerves.
This whole venture depended on convincing the locals to join an expedition that he couldn’t officially sanction, to hunt for the theoretical source of a disease his boss refused to acknowledge.
When he was shown into the small, transparent-walled sunroom the town hall offered for meetings, he saw that Garamont, the town administrator, had invited extra participants.
Phendari Fordas was there, as expected. But two others were not.
He should have anticipated the first: Phen’s wife, Kodetia Bristi, sat beside her, a look of intelligent curiosity on her classically beautiful face.
Koda was as protective of Phen as she was adventurous, and it was unlikely she’d let her wife go trekking up a mountain without her.
The other attendee was a complete surprise. Tucked into a corner chair, as if hoping to merge with the lush rainforest backdrop, was Sairy Sarvand. Her presence sent a jolt through him, a mix of apprehension and an inconvenient flicker of pleasure.