Hardshellz, Page 4

  ***

  Sunlight poured into my stateroom though the floor to ceiling glass wall. It looked like I had dropped off after all. I sat up, held my head in my hands and groaned. I'd forgotten to take that cleansing tablet and now I had the mother of all hangovers. It felt like meteors were crashing about in my skull. With my hand out, supporting myself against the wall, I made my way over to the shower and took a double length, freezing cold shower. Then I pressed the insta-dry button so I felt marginally better after that.

  Checking my wardrobe, I saw a well cut navy-blue business suit hanging up. Putting it on, I saw it fit perfectly. Sava must have got my details from the office. Now I looked the part to attend the auction later.

  Up on the sun deck, I helped myself to breakfast. There was no sign of Sava or Julianna but Norin was standing by the gangway. He gave me a nod, merely the briefest dip of his head. I guess he'd been polishing up on his customer service skills overnight.

  After I'd finished eating, he flew me in the Hercedez over the sun-warming city towards the sales rooms. As is usually the case, the auction was being held in a luxury hotel. Landing in front of the hotel – the Bourée de Lieux – a valet whisked the Hercedez away as we entered the hotel. There was no problem finding the sales room and not just because it was well signposted. Crowds of people stood outside, networking like fury, and the air was thick with their broadcasts. I recognised a couple of the galaxy's movers and shakers but mostly, like Sava himself, they'd sent representatives to act on their behalf.

  There wasn't anyone I knew so I made my way into the auction room and took a seat near the front where I could be easily seen by the auctioneer. Norin sat next to me, crossed his arms, and sat there like a statue. If he wasn't careful, someone would slip a tag around his neck and auction him off. If they did, I wouldn't bother bidding for him.

  Checking the time, I noticed the auction was about to start. More people entered the room and filled the empty seats and then lined up against the walls. Servo-bots flitted around serving drinks and refreshments, the lights reflecting off their highly polished chrome bodies. A man took his place next to me. I sat bolt upright when I checked his broadcast. I knew him. Knew him well. The last time I'd seen Luis Çrámerr, he was dying with his throat slit by a Krilla – one of those vicious genetically modified rat-man terror weapons I was telling you about earlier. He'd died bravely and I'd torn out his memory chip to be fitted into his clone body.

  The man turned to me and held out his hand.

  "Hi – great to touch base with you, Vargo," Çrámerr said. "You bidding or just spotting?"

  We shook and exchanged data. I saw he was still working for Economou interplanetary Logistics, Inc. – a big, multi-world transport company. He'd been promoted and his salary, well he wasn't an oligarch like Sava but to you and me, his salary was eye-wateringly large.

  Çrámerr was tall, in his forties and handsome in a cool, Nordic way with perfectly even teeth and ruler-straight nose. He'd obviously been here on Batavia VII for some time as he'd been working on his tan. His dark hair was neatly trimmed in a currently fashionable style.

  "Bidding," I admitted. By my side, Norin glowered at my admission.

  "Anything take your fancy?" Çrámerr asked.

  Julianna, I nearly blurted.