that may have been one of
her problems. She was forty years old, and she had had only three lovers. The
first two had left her for other women, and Duncan Black had left her to start
working in the pits of hell a few years ahead of schedule. She’d always fought
a lot with him, but she’d loved him as much as she would let herself love
anyone after her first two experiences, and when his heart finally gave out it
came pretty close to breaking hers as well.
She was still grieving a year
later, when Black Orpheus stopped by—but she took the trouble to show Deadly
Nightshade off to him just the same. He went deep into the bellies of the metal
leviathans and spent almost a full day there, scribbling down notes as her crew
gutted them and set them adrift, then watching with childlike enthusiasm as
space tugs dragged new corpses up to the station’s docks. He even found time to
name Bella Donna’s three tiny moons—Banewort, Foxglove, and Hellebore—before he
left for his next port of call.
Deadly Nightshade wasn’t much to
look at by the time Cain and Terwilliger arrived. Its hull was pockmarked by
small, hastily repaired meteor holes, one of its docks had been damaged beyond
repair by an errant tug, and it had come into contact with enough cosmic dust
and debris so that the entire exterior needed refurbishing.
Still, it wasn’t Deadly Nightshade
that they had come to see, but rather the woman who owned it, so Cain carefully
maneuvered his ship up to a dock, waited for an enclosed mobile walkway to be
attached to his airlock, and followed Terwilliger to the interior of the
station.
The floor curved gently away from
them in both directions, and a narrow mat of indeterminate properties seemed to
grab hold of their feet.
“You didn’t tell me it was zero
gravity in here,” commented Cain.
“Just make sure one foot is always
on the mat,” replied Terwilliger. “You won’t float away.”
“I’ve been on G-mats before,”
replied Cain irritably. “I just don’t like null-gravity situations too soon
after a meal.”
“You should have told me.”
Cain was about to reply that he
hadn’t known that there was no gravity inside the station but decided that he
didn’t feel like repeating the entire conversation again.
Suddenly a humanoid being with a
large cranium, deep-set golden eyes, and orange, reticulated skin began
approaching them.
“What the hell is that?” asked
Cain.
“An Orange Monkey,” replied
Terwilliger. “The Rose uses them as security guards.”
“I never saw one before,” said
Cain. “Where is it from?”
“Varien Four,” said the gambler.
“They call themselves Hagibens; we call ‘em Orange Monkeys. It fits them
better. They work cheap, they learn the language pretty fast, and they love
zero gravity. It’s a hard combination to beat—especially when you consider how
many alien races won’t work at all and couldn’t care less about money.”
The Orange Monkey stopped in front
of them.
“Your business, please?” it said
in a lilting voice that sounded more like song than speech.
“We’re here to see the Sargasso
Rose,” replied Terwilliger.
“The Sargasso Rose prefers not to
deal personally with our customers,” replied the alien. “If you will tell me
what you need, I will direct you to the proper areas.”
“She’ll deal personally with us, ” said Terwilliger. “I’m an old friend.”
The Orange Monkey looked at him.
“You are Halfpenny Terwilliger, who was forcibly removed from Deadly Nightshade
for cheating various staff members in a card game.” It paused. “ I was among those who escorted you to your ship.”
“You were?” asked Terwilliger,
surprised but unembarrassed.
“I was.”
“Sorry I didn’t recognize you, but
all you Orange Monkeys look alike to me.”
“That is perfectly
understandable,” said the alien. “We are all quite beautiful.”
“Well, as long as we’re old
friends, how about telling the Rose we’re
her problems. She was forty years old, and she had had only three lovers. The
first two had left her for other women, and Duncan Black had left her to start
working in the pits of hell a few years ahead of schedule. She’d always fought
a lot with him, but she’d loved him as much as she would let herself love
anyone after her first two experiences, and when his heart finally gave out it
came pretty close to breaking hers as well.
She was still grieving a year
later, when Black Orpheus stopped by—but she took the trouble to show Deadly
Nightshade off to him just the same. He went deep into the bellies of the metal
leviathans and spent almost a full day there, scribbling down notes as her crew
gutted them and set them adrift, then watching with childlike enthusiasm as
space tugs dragged new corpses up to the station’s docks. He even found time to
name Bella Donna’s three tiny moons—Banewort, Foxglove, and Hellebore—before he
left for his next port of call.
Deadly Nightshade wasn’t much to
look at by the time Cain and Terwilliger arrived. Its hull was pockmarked by
small, hastily repaired meteor holes, one of its docks had been damaged beyond
repair by an errant tug, and it had come into contact with enough cosmic dust
and debris so that the entire exterior needed refurbishing.
Still, it wasn’t Deadly Nightshade
that they had come to see, but rather the woman who owned it, so Cain carefully
maneuvered his ship up to a dock, waited for an enclosed mobile walkway to be
attached to his airlock, and followed Terwilliger to the interior of the
station.
The floor curved gently away from
them in both directions, and a narrow mat of indeterminate properties seemed to
grab hold of their feet.
“You didn’t tell me it was zero
gravity in here,” commented Cain.
“Just make sure one foot is always
on the mat,” replied Terwilliger. “You won’t float away.”
“I’ve been on G-mats before,”
replied Cain irritably. “I just don’t like null-gravity situations too soon
after a meal.”
“You should have told me.”
Cain was about to reply that he
hadn’t known that there was no gravity inside the station but decided that he
didn’t feel like repeating the entire conversation again.
Suddenly a humanoid being with a
large cranium, deep-set golden eyes, and orange, reticulated skin began
approaching them.
“What the hell is that?” asked
Cain.
“An Orange Monkey,” replied
Terwilliger. “The Rose uses them as security guards.”
“I never saw one before,” said
Cain. “Where is it from?”
“Varien Four,” said the gambler.
“They call themselves Hagibens; we call ‘em Orange Monkeys. It fits them
better. They work cheap, they learn the language pretty fast, and they love
zero gravity. It’s a hard combination to beat—especially when you consider how
many alien races won’t work at all and couldn’t care less about money.”
The Orange Monkey stopped in front
of them.
“Your business, please?” it said
in a lilting voice that sounded more like song than speech.
“We’re here to see the Sargasso
Rose,” replied Terwilliger.
“The Sargasso Rose prefers not to
deal personally with our customers,” replied the alien. “If you will tell me
what you need, I will direct you to the proper areas.”
“She’ll deal personally with us, ” said Terwilliger. “I’m an old friend.”
The Orange Monkey looked at him.
“You are Halfpenny Terwilliger, who was forcibly removed from Deadly Nightshade
for cheating various staff members in a card game.” It paused. “ I was among those who escorted you to your ship.”
“You were?” asked Terwilliger,
surprised but unembarrassed.
“I was.”
“Sorry I didn’t recognize you, but
all you Orange Monkeys look alike to me.”
“That is perfectly
understandable,” said the alien. “We are all quite beautiful.”
“Well, as long as we’re old
friends, how about telling the Rose we’re
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