It was finally time for our rendezvous with the boss. I hopped back on the taxi-a-la Sunny and we rode north, into the Independent District. Almost all the shopping to be had was in the central business/ market district, but the nightlife, bars, and general carousing was all right by the gates, in the middle of Mercenary row. The ‘Last Night’ was a two story bordello done up in some archetypal western decor, swinging doors, monster heads mounted on the wall, and servers in low-cut blouses. It was my first time here and the bouncer was a human Stim-Rider. And you almost never see independent Stim-Riders, what with the extreme burnout and death that is managed on a razor's edge, it was hard to manufacture and balance the cocktails by yourself. You hear of entire Deren squads and armies of lighting fast, super strong, fearless Stim-Riders. But you don't hear as much about the crash and burning and eventual death due to their chemically induced super augmentations. But this guy had beaten the odds. And while he looked a bit rung out he could stare down anyone in the place and clearly knew how to resolve situations.

  Sunny and I walked in as the bouncer, and everyone else in the front room, gave me a look over. I was surprised I even noticed the attention, but there wasn't much tech to draw my focus, I guess. We headed to the bar and dining area to the left. Dance music wafted from the back room as a constant stream of men, women, and others came in and out of there, and headed up the stairs to the second floor.

  I sighed and signaled the bartender, “I am supposed to meet L.F., … here?”

  The androgynous bartender, decked out in full western riding gear no less, looked us both over again, and said, “room 214, upstairs.”

  Maybe I was starting to dislike this place.

  Sunny and I pivoted and headed to the back right corner with the stairs. Sunny tilted his dual treads up the steps and crawled up the stairs, faster than I could walk. The upstairs hallway had 20 doors that were visible, 10 on each side. We found number 214, debated knocking and instead opened the door and walked right in.

  Lauren Feldclop, a dapper older gentleman, was seated in a large arm chair next to a table and one other arm chair. The large bed seemed nice, and thankfully unused. Lauren looked like a sharply dressed grandfather, with a bow tie and 3 piece suit. He was able to play the affable business owner, but underneath it all, he was a ruthless back marketeer, in charge of every illicit operation in Neu Ca?on. And it was hard to find illegal businesses in a laissez faire city like Neu Ca?on. Overtly, Lauren was the head manager for the BDwerks? depot in town. Nearly everything we made was in stock and available here, with one of the best selections and the newest equipment of anywhere. Lauren also ran a few fence operations, aka Pawn Shops, as well as illegal chop-shops for cybernetics and Stim-Rider augmentation. He also had several racketeering and sordid businesses I knew almost nothing about.

  He had always been kind to me, but I knew enough about the business to never trust a member at his level.

  “Gabby, great to see you, come in, come in. Sunny, you as well. Please be seated. I took the liberty of ordering some beer and juice. I hope you don't mind? Are you hungry?” He gestured to several glasses and pitchers full of colorful beverages, as I approached the table.

  Sunny was going to let me take the lead, giving that it was my neck and my loan. “Thanks we already ate.” Which was a lie, but I didn't want to hang out with the guy. “The drinks are nice, thanks Lauren.” That was my attempt at tact. I sat down in the arm chair facing him.

  Seeing that I was ready to get down to business, he gave me an amused smile and said, “So I hear you have some items you would like to offer up for sale?”

  It was my turn to grin, “Do we ever. Sunny managed to find over 5,000 Pre-war texts. A solid collection of fiction, non-fiction and even science manuals! Should fetch a nice price if you don't low ball us too much. Oh and we found a brand new Mach 1.” I grabbed a pitcher and poured myself a glass of juice.

  Mr. Feldclop sat up straighter and carefully set his wine glass down. “Indeed, that is quite impressive, we rarely get something like that. I must say that would be a nice find for our humble operation in Neu Ca?on and of course would do well to pay down your debts. I am sure a woman of your skill is confident in its condition if not its value.”

  Pausing a moment to collect his thoughts, Lauren continued “List price for that number of books ranges considerably, but assuming a fair variety it would range from 800,000 to 1.2 million credits. For now, we can say one million credits. The Mach 1 is of course, nearly priceless, especially if it was truly a first edition, and unused. Naturally we are skilled at putting a price on priceless things. I would say perhaps 10 million credits.”

  He said it in a firm voice, that left me no idea if that was an opening number or a final offer. I looked at Sunny for a moment.

  Sunny chimed in, “Of course you need to inspect it, but we have a fully functioning companion drone. They are sometimes found separately these days but very rare to find them coupled together? While you have found those before perhaps not something quite so pristine?”

  Lauren, took a sip from the wine glass on the table and continued, “It is as you say Sunny. Let my folks evaluate everything tomorrow at the Sky Port and we can come to a reasonable accommodation then.”

  Returning his gaze to me Lauren said, “We also have the update you owe on your synthetic army men you are creating for us? I, along with all the others, are waiting excitedly to hear of your progress.”

  I threw a data-shard to Lauren from my backpack. “That has all the performance numbers and capabilities for the synths. I am working on a few variants to appeal to a broader customer base. But my main effort is a smarter and more capable combat leader. My Squad Leaders can coordinate and manage a team of other synths far more effectively than an equal or greater group without the tactical leadership. Drones are all the same, deadly, driven, and straightforward. Remote control and management can easily be denied or subverted. My Squad Leaders observe, decide, and act in a continuous cycle, always improving and always learning.”

  Nodding his head, Lauren said, “I must say I am, perhaps, not the best judge of this. Your information will be passed along. But it does sound like promising progress.”

  I excitedly responded, “Oh and you can meet one of them in person tomorrow!”

  Smiling at me like a kindly grandfather that he wasn't, he said, “Well I guess I will just have to come in person tomorrow for the exchange then.”

  We agreed to an inspection and transfer tomorrow at two PM in the Sky Port. Lauren would bring his people and perform the inspection. I quickly finished my drink. He had ordered a delicious selection of agua frescas: nopal, manzana, y naranja. The orange one was delicious and I wanted to take them all, and would have but I didn't have a way to store them. I noticed that Sunny hadn't touched his beer. Opps, oh well.

  Sunny and I quickly left the establishment of ill repute and stepped outside. The nightlife was just getting started with mercenaries flush with their earnings. They were walking around in groups like a herd of dinosaurs traveling from bar to bar. And a few were already stumbling and singly loudly and off key, I knew it was time to leave.

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Sunny indicated his back for me to jump on, “Alright Gabby time to turn in, I am meeting Alexandria at the Riverside hotel but I will drop you off at your grandparents.”

  I wanted to argue with him and head back to the safety and comfort of Gretta, but I knew that I needed to check in with them too. I hadn’t even told them I was back in town.

  Sunny spun up, traveling faster in the Independent quarter than he did in the other areas, and was quickly flying down the main road through the central business district and into the residential area. As he was crossing over the river toward the lower level and east side of town, I almost jumped into the water. I knew it would have been childish, but it still seemed like a better idea than going to that house.

  A few moments later, we zipped through the neighborhood square with a light fountain. My dad and I had spent a lot of time at our neighborhood center. It had a small green park with benches, a few shops, and cafes scattered around. We continued down a side street and were soon rolling up to the place my dad had bought a few years ago. He had managed to lead several successful product launches for BDwerks?, and had splurged and bought us this standalone house in Neu Ca?on. I lived here all week by myself, and Dad would come home for a long weekend and we would explore Neu Ca?on. We had such great times looking at the magitecha marvels, the technological innovations, the various shops and shows, and finding the best food in town.

  I tried not to think about my time in Neu Ca?on too often. The house in front of us was pale pink stucco with 3 bedrooms, a basement, and a nice weeping tree in front (and I do mean weeping, it was some alien plant that needed no maintenance and dripped, something). We even had a spacious firepit out back for the cooler nights.

  Now it was just a house. The lights in the kitchen were still on, so I knew my Abulita was still up. Sunny gently grabbed my shoulders and lifted me off his rear platform. I would have complained, but I wasn't going to get off any time soon.

  He quietly said, “All right kiddo, go on in, I have to get going. I will call you if I don't hear from you tomorrow mid-morning.” With that he zoomed off, hurriedly heading to his hotel.

  I am not sure how long I stood in the walkway staring at the door. Eventually a chill ran down my back and I started toward the door. I grabbed the door handle and it was unlocked. They really need to lock the door.

  Our entryway split off into three directions. To the left was my dad’s study. No one had touched it since he had died. I wouldn't let anyone. In front of the door was a hallway with 2 bedrooms & the bathroom and stairs leading up and down. My room was a converted loft upstairs. To the right was our kitchen.

  I dropped my backpack and shrugged off my jacket. I reflexively hung it on my hook on the wall.

  >>Feko, Fe, that brought back even more memories.>>

  I remember coming home after curfew, far too often, trying to be quiet, and every time my dad would call out from his office, not even looking up, “?Gabriela, Qué hora es?” He never yelled or scolded me. He just asked, what time is it?

  Shaking my head I could hear quiet voices from the kitchen. “Hola Gabriela!” It seems my dad got his fifth-sense from his mother.

  “Buenas noches, abuelos. Es bueno verte. ?Cómo están ustedes?” I walked into the kitchen and greeted my grandparents. My grandmother, Abuelita, was a tall strong woman, I looked nothing like her, but I supposed we shared the same strong eyes and jawline. She had a white streak running down her dark hair verus my shorter stature and lighter colored hair.

  My grandfather could never be serious, he was always telling stories and cracking jokes, no matter the circumstances. Even at funerals. He had a warm smile that seemed to put everyone at ease, my dad got that too, another thing I didn't inherit. It was nice to see that neither of them had seemed to change. I gave them both a hug. Eye contact was difficult, but hey, it was always difficult for me. I hated how the house reminded me of him, the sight of our furniture, the sound of our wood floors. The smell, well the smell was great, I could tell that Abuelo had made enchiladas earlier.

  “Nieta, have you eaten?” My Aubelita asked. I shook my head no.

  With a firm voice she said, “Hector, enchiladas.”

  In no time at all, I was sitting down at the table with some reheated cheese and onion enchiladas. Too much onion, not enough cheese. But similar to what my dad used to make. I ate in silence, both grandparents watching me. As I was finishing up, I remembered I had something for them.

  “Oh I got you guys a gift, I’ll be right back,” I jumped up and ran to my backpack in the entryway.

  I returned with the dinosaur horn and hide. The synths had done a basic job of preserving it but It would need additional work before it could be turned into something crafty.

  “What is this?” My grandpa asked.

  “This,” I said proudly, “is a hide and horn from a giant dinosaur, something or other. I was out training for work and we came across this creature. My synths did an amazing job keeping me safe, and took down this beast.” I almost missed the quick look of horror in their eyes as they looked at the horn and then each other. I didn't understand, they haven't been squeamish about hunting before. I still can't figure most people out, even family, especially family. They thanked me for the gift and quickly put it in the craft hutch. Both my grandparents had decided to pick up tinkering in their old age. I think they felt it connected them with their son.

  Away.

  Abuelita insisted on making hot chocolate. I haven't had a mug of that in years, and I missed it. Real hot chocolate with spices. Nothing else was like it. We sat around the kitchen table for a few hours, my grandparents mostly talked about how they keep themselves busy, what they were working on, my grandpa a stone knife, and my grandma a dream catcher. They also shared how they liked Neu Ca?on, but missed some things back in the Colorado and the American Empire.

  My grandparents were of an age that empires and politics seemed to come and go, and they didn't care one way or another. Grandma was an adventuring scientist, back in the day, and grandpa liked to say he was a ‘creative’ accountant for the Black Market◆. They didn't talk too much about their past, but when my mom had died years earlier they had talked about dealing with loss and the death of my aunt right after I was born. I never met my dad’s sister but life out west is often brutal and short.

  I kept taking smaller and smaller sips of the hot chocolate in front of me. Every time I looked up I couldn't help but see my father at the table instead of my grandparents.

  I interrupted their ruminations, “Abuelita y abuelo, estoy cansado. Me voy a la cama.” They both gave me a hug and wished me good night. With that I stood up, grabbed my backpack and glanced into my dad’s office. He had a drafting table in the corner. It was a nice state of the art machine that could render designs and simulate material requirements and costs precisely. He and I used to design aircraft, not modern vehicles but the kind in the old movies he liked to watch. When there were thousands of aircraft in the sky fighting over islands and beaches. We had so much fun thinking about the machines this world used to have, and taken for granted.

  I hated coming home.

  I spun on my heel and quickly walked down the hallway and up the stairs. I reached the top and opened the door to my room. Nothing had changed here either. I had an A-frame loft bedroom with large dormer windows on both ends. I loved curling up and reading books by the moonlight as I stayed up way past my bedtime. Scattered across the room, I had my books and models from childhood, but nothing I cared to take with me. I missed my stuffed animals, honestly, but I wasn't going to risk them out in the field. BDwerks? had a whole line of children's toys, and stuffed animals, of course all based on their product lines. My favorite was a stuffed doggie, who was supposed to look like one of their guard dog ‘bots. I quickly changed and crawled into bed. It was close to 1 AM in the morning when I got to my room, and I lay awake for hours. I tossed and turned but couldn't sleep.. At one point I had a lucid dream, or a vivid memory of a much younger dad talking to me in his study. It was bizarre because we didn't move to this house until later, but I couldn't have been older than 10, and my dad was sitting in his chair in this house, explaining why he had to go away on so many work trips. I always missed him so much when he was gone, but what was different about this memory is that the excitement and enthusiasm he usually had for his work and the outings was gone. He almost seemed to dread it. I don't remember which trip or where he went and he clearly came back home safe and well, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I was missing something important.