Teamwork

Taylor McAllister rubbed the sleep from her eyes. She’d been chasing leads down dead-end rabbit holes for days. If this tip turned sour, she’d have to go back in defeat and let her boss know that the summons couldn’t be served.

For the moment, however, she was standing at a private launch field in the pre-dawn chill, waiting for someone to come for the little sport shuttle parked there. She was considering calling it a bust when she heard the gate clanging open.

From her hiding spot by the hangar, she watched a small truck trundle through the gate. The truck stopped next to the shuttle. The driver got out and began transferring packages from the open bed of the truck to the shuttle’s stowage compartment.

Taylor waited until the last package was loaded and the stowage access door was secured, then she made her move. She stepped into the faint light from the launch field and waved. “Hello.” She tensed, ready for the driver to run, or try to jump back into the truck and drive off.

Instead, she was surprised by the driver’s response. “Hey! Just one minute, while I park in the hangar, then I can help you,” the woman said. She jumped into the truck and drove it into the hangar before walking directly back out to where Taylor stood.

“I saw you on the security cameras before I got here,” the driver said, “and clocked you as a process server. No weapons on the scan, and since you didn’t come for me right away, I’m not your target. I think I know who you’re looking for, though.” The woman, taller than Taylor with an olivine complexion and rainbow dyed hair put out a hand for a shake. “Manuela. Civil or criminal summons?”

Taylor shook the woman’s hand. “Taylor McAllister, from All-Where Services. It’s, uh, from the 9th Circuit Criminal Court.”

Manuela pursed her lips and nodded. “Figures. Well, this is my last trip for my soon-to-be former boss, Jerran Trask. That’s who you’re looking for, right?”

“Yeah. That’s the problem with the rich ones, they always have someplace else to hide.” Taylor cocked her head. “Why did you say ‘soon-to-be former’?”

“The longer I’ve worked for him, the more I’ve felt he was involved in some shady shit. I was planning on turning in my resignation with this load, anyway.”

“Are you delivering this directly to him?”

“Nah. This is going to a commercial freighter in orbit. Which of his private asteroids or moons it’s going to from there, I don’t know. He’s been jumping around a lot, lately. That was the final straw for me.”

Taylor let out a defeated sigh. “If you don’t know where he is, I guess this job is a big, fat zero after all.”

“Do you have other plans right now?”

“No. Why?”

“Come on up with me and talk to the freighter captain. They might let you see where the delivery is going.” Manuela chuckled. “You’d be surprised what a little scratch might get you, since there is no such thing as freighter-client confidence.”

Taylor looked at the sporty little shuttle. “If you’ll have me, I’d appreciate it.”

“Well then, let’s move. We’re running out of time to make the drop-off.”

In return for the ride, Taylor helped Manuela unload the shuttle. She was surprised to see canisters of argon amongst the more normal supplies of protein paste, a solar still, booze, and enough instant ramen to keep an entire dorm fed for weeks.

“What’s with the argon?” she asked.

“Oh, you haven’t seen him, have you?”

“On the holos and stuff. He’s been in the news a few times.”

“Yeah, when you see him in person, you’ll get it.” Manuela paused from marking off items on her bill of lading. “He’s not human. He’s a grumuran.”

“The shapeshifters?”

“Yeah, kind of. It’s not as extreme as all that, but he’s had extensive surgery to look human. Without the argon, though, his cells begin to lose their firmness, and he starts to look like he’s melting.”

“Whenever I saw him on the holo, I thought he didn’t look right. Maybe robotic or something. That makes sense, though.”

Manuela nudged Taylor’s ribs. “Here comes the captain now,” she said.

“Manuela, right on time as always, I see,” the captain said in passable English. He stood taller than the women but likely weighed less as his frame was slight and willowy. His grey-blue skin was dull under the loading dock lights.

“I’m within the delivery window … just,” Manuela said. “Sorry for the delay, but my friend here is looking for Trask.”

“And if he didn’t pay so well, I would look to stay away from him.” He extended a hand with three over-long fingers and a thumb to match, all with one too many joints. “I’m Lirae-is, and this is my ship, the @!*#&$% — it means Junk Drawer in English.”

Taylor shook his hand. “Nice to meet you, Lirae-is. I’m Taylor McAllister from All-Where Services. Is there any way I can convince you to tell me where to find Mr. Trask?”

“I can take you to him, for a small price.”

Taylor sighed. She wasn’t rolling in dough, and the agency wasn’t likely to cover an off-the-books travel expense. “I don’t have much—”

“If you deal with him and his cargo, and let me hide in the cockpit, I’ll take you straight there and back again when you’re done,” Lirae-is interjected.

“What about your crew?”

“I’m it. Most everything is automated, and my helper is out sick. Actually, she’s out laying a clutch, but I pretend like I don’t know.”

“Why do you want to hide from Trask?”

Lirae-is shuddered. “He makes me uneasy. There’s something so unnatural about him, it turns my stomachs. Plus, he calls me ‘Larry’ and I don’t like it.”

Taylor thought for a minute. “So, I offload his shit, do my bit, and you bring me right back?”

“That’s the deal.” He looked over her diminutive — to his eyes — size, and said, “I think I might even have a child seat for you.”

Manuela laughed and Taylor shrugged. “It would’ve been more comfortable in the interrogation room with one. Whatever.”

Manuela turned to Taylor. “Wait, you’re actually going with him?”

“Yeah, I might as well. Even if I know where he is when he gets his stuff, he could bolt right after. This is the best chance I have.” She leaned in to whisper to Manuela. “If I can serve him before the end of the week, I get a bonus. I’d be willing to share it with you at the bar.”

Lirae-is leaned over until his head was level with theirs. “I heard that. Name the bar and the night, and I’ll be there to collect my earnings in fermented barley water.”

Taylor laughed. “Beer for the captain it is. Tell you what. I sent my e-card to Manuela’s comm, and I’m sure she knows how to contact you. I’ll let her choose the time and place to better fit everyone’s schedule.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to go back with me?” Manuela asked.

“Nah. I’ll take care of business with Trask, and then maybe help Lirae-is out with a few more deliveries, since he’s short-handed.”

“But my hands are very long,” he said, extending his fingers.

Manuela snorted. “Your jokes keep getting worse,” she said. “I love it. See you when you get back.”

Trask’s private asteroid wasn’t much to look at from the outside. The massive landing bay inside, though, hinted at high-tech meets high-fashion. Taylor unloaded all of Trask’s goods and stacked them in the designated area, then, with a borrowed pad from Lirae-is, stood expectantly by the pile of goods.

His voice came over the intercom. “You can leave now.”

Taylor looked at the pad, beneath which she held his summons. “I, uh, can’t. It says here I need a signature from a Jerry Trash?”

A door at the far end of the bay slammed open and he stormed in. While he looked a little uncanny valley on the holo, in person it was a whole other thing. Every part of her brain said, “Not human! NOT HUMAN!”

He stomped up to her and looked her up and down. “Larry is hiring humans now?” he asked, holding his hand out for the tablet.

“Are you Jerry Trash?” Taylor asked.

“Jerran Trask!” he yelled at her from within a calm face. “My name is Jerran Trask, get it right!”

“Oh, good.” Taylor pulled the summons from under the tablet and placed it into his waiting hand. “Jerran Trask, you’ve been served.”

His already dead eyes seemed to lose even more life as he stared at her, his face remaining the same, blank calm he showed in every holo appearance. “No one serves me a summons. I do the summoning.”

Taylor raised a finger and opened her comm. “Sir, I have additional information the court would like me to pass on to you. I quote: You have been summoned to report to the Ninth Circuit Criminal Court in Brussels, no later than 72 hours from now. Failure to do so will result in an arrest warrant, seizure, freezing, and possible forfeiture of all assets, and possible charges. End of quote.”

With that, she turned on her heel and returned to the ship, leaving the dumbfounded Trask holding the summons. She followed through on her suggestion, helping Lirae-is offload his other cargo, even driving a loader — without training or certification — at one overused and understaffed depot.

On return to Earth, Lirae-is docked at the public transport orbital station, where a message from Manuela pinged both of them. Taylor looked at her comm, look at Lirae-is, and said, “Oh, nice, tapas. Guess I’ll be seeing you next Friday at the Leyenda del Mar, here on the station.”