Guess Who's Coming for Tea

The downs weren’t quite how Simonee remembered. She hadn’t hazarded a visit once in the five years since Hemlock, and now they looked almost normal, which somehow felt worse—disorienting.

Tim, Mariem, and Carlos marched around her in a delta formation with Tim on point and Mariem and Carlos on flank. Simonee kept the hood of the brown Jawa cloak draped over her face to hide from Ms. Aggy’s cameras. They had to look ridiculous, but that only helped keep her out of focus. Still, she felt blind without her agents—she couldn’t even risk a ping from a different device. Ms. Aggy caught her scent when she tunneled into the network from the Fénix, so now anything she had running on the network was probably compromised. All she could rely on now were the humans around her.

“I thought you said this place was full of low-lifes?” Carlos hissed, looking like a bargain desperado who’d lost a fight with his own closet. “These people look more like the squalor-is-trendy crowd.”

Over his shoulder rested a large blaster weapon that pulsed with colorful LEDs. It even made pew-pew noises when he pulled the trigger.

“Looks can be deceiving, just don’t look anyone in the eyes.” Tim muttered under his breath. The hem of his black, leather duster dragged on the ground as he marched—it was Mariem’s. His standard issue coil-gun was strapped inside.

“I’m looking plenty of people in the eyes and most of them are laughing at us,” said Mariem, wearing a leather corset with a pair of drab riding pants. A large, double-barrel, shotgun rested in the crook of her arm. It looked real enough, but Mariem assured her it was plastic.

“Must be the day shift,” Tim huffed.

Carlos scrunched his eyebrows. “I don’t get it.”

Tim shook his head. “This place was a lot worse the last time I was here.”

“He’s not wrong. Gentrification maybe?” Simonee muttered.

“We look like idiots.” Carlos growled.

Mariem chuckled. “I don’t know, I might start wearing this leather out more often.”

Carlos held out his blaster. “Mierda! I can’t believe I dug out Juicy-Lucy for this. Now I have to carry her around all day—can’t just ditch her, took me a month to build!”

Simonee raised an eyebrow under her hood. “You named a fake gun?”

Carlos looked at her. “How’s that weirder than naming a real gun?”

Simonee waggled her head. “Good point.”

“Just keep your eyes peeled. They could still be armed,” Tim said.

They rounded a corner, and stopped in front of a door labeled HR219, beyond which the red dot flashed on the map.

After a long pause, Carlos asked, “Well, do we knock?”

Simonee stepped forward, “We need to surprise him, I’ll hack the lock.”

Tim stopped her. “Better idea, my security card is a master key for the lower decks.”

He reached into his duster.

Mariem sighed. “You guys don’t think he’s got a camera on the door?”

The door latch thunked; “Shit.” Tim fumbled for his weapon but got trapped in the folds of the oversized duster. The door opened and he looked up into the long steel barrel of Mason’s coilgun, the caliber of which could have smuggled a hamster.

“You’re… under… arrest?” Tim squeaked.

Mason pulled back his coil-gun and flipped on the safety. The capacitors whined in protest as their charge got shoved back into the battery cells.

“Well, are you four going to come inside or do I have to drink this entire pot of tea all by myself?”

He winked at Mariem. “Proximity sensors, camera, and a microphone.”

He disappeared inside, leaving the door open. Tim looked back at Carlos, Carlos looked over at Mariem, and Mariem looked down at Simonee. Simonee shrugged, and stepped around Tim while he untangled himself from the oversized duster.

Mason lived in a small studio apartment, similar in design to Simonee’s, but with solid wood furniture and an actual tick-tock grandfather clock. A wooden table was already set with five places—a saucer and a teacup at each, the same he’d brought to Simonee’s apartment on that terrifying night that felt like a lifetime ago. Here it seemed almost cozy. Something sweet wafted from the kitchenette, spicy, like nutmeg. Her stomach rumbled into a fit. When had she last eaten?

“Biscuits?” Mason chimed from the kitchenette.

“Ummm… yes?” Carlos said.

“Please, sit,” Mason commanded as he pulled a small pan with brown cookies from an infrared oven using a pair of floral oven mitts.

The warm smell of nutmeg and now vanilla, filled the room and Simonee’s stomach clenched. They sat.

Simonee cast back her hood, and watched Mason intently as he sat, reaching for the kettle. He poured a spot of black tea into each cup, and grinned devilishly as he asked their preference for sugar and milk, delivering each with a bow like a dutiful servant. They all stared at the victuals pensively, as if expecting poison, or to be shot from under the table.

Then Carlos grabbed his biscuit.

“Joderlo,” he said, and bit his cookie in half. Mariem and Tim sipped their tea and nibbled their cookies when Carlos didn’t fall to the floor and foam at the mouth. Simonee left hers untouched.

Mason sipped his tea, and waved his cup at his guests. “So, it’s obvious you all need my help, but you didn’t have to get all dressed up on my account. Are those guns even real? No matter, only my gun will work in here, unless that shotgun uses real powder?”

Mariem shook her head, crumbs falling to her lap.

“Pity, that would have been a remarkable antique.”

“How long have you been watching us?” Simonee asked.

“Oh, since you left your ship,” Mason chuckled. “I have surveillance agents watching out for unusual events, and they went positively bonkers when you four showed up on the cameras. I cleared the corridor when you got to the habitat ring, I didn’t want you waylaid on your journey here.”

“Ha!” Tim shouted, pointing at Carlos and Mariem, “I told you!”

“Which makes me wonder why you’re here,” Mason said. “I know the hacker, and I have a dossier for every officer on the force, but I only know you two by reputation—your cosplay awards are legendary.” Mason set down his cup and made a steeple of his fingers. “Now, I’m dying to know what would make you do something so unbelievably stupid?”

Simonee hung her head. “Love.”

Mason brightened and slapped his palms on the table. “Ha! Of course! How does that saying go? Man is a rational and intelligent animal from the day he is born to the day he falls in love.”

Mason looked around the table and frowned.

“Well, someone spit it out. What do you need from me?”

Simonee sighed. “I need to get into my apartment—the way you got in last week—without using the front door.”

Mason’s face pulled long and grave. “Oh my, that is a tall order.”

He put two fingers to his lips in mock contemplation. “I’d be giving up quite a secret. And what is it exactly you intend to retrieve?”

“A hard drive,” Simonee answered. “With the recording from our meeting.”

Mason shook his head. “Why, in my right mind, would I do that? Did you even think this through? I rid myself of folks through the local hot dog shop for less.”

“There go my lunch plans,” grumbled Carlos.

Simonee glared straight into Mason’s eyes. “I’ll give you the money back. All of it, just take it all back out of my accounts.”

“You mean, your frozen accounts?” Mason crooned.

“I’ll get them un-frozen, I just need to prove to Dalia that you set me up.”

Carlos jutted his chin at Mason. “We’re not interested in you, anyways. Ragana Ledas is in charge right? Let us take her down. I’m sure you wouldn’t mind a power vacuum.”

Mason steepled his fingers again. “You do have a point there, old man.”

He sat like that for a whole minute. Only the casual crunching of the rest of Mariem’s cookie in Carlos’s mouth broke the silence. Finally, he shrugged. “Alright. I do love a good coup. When do we leave?”

“We?” Carlos asked.

“Of course. What, did you think I was going to hand over my secret and trust you to bring it back when you were through?”

“Well, we were hoping—” Carlos muttered.

“No-no-no, no. I’ll get you into the apartment, but on my terms.”

Simonee nodded. “Okay, let’s do it.”

She glanced at Mariem, then Carlos, then Tim. “You don’t need to be part of this. You’ve done enough for me as it is.”

Mariem shook her head and stood, but Carlos put a hand on her shoulder, and with a look she sat down. He turned to Simonee. “Nena, there isn’t a chance in hell we’re leaving you alone with this guy.”

Tim glanced at Mariem and cleared his throat. “Yeah, me neither.”

Mason grinned. “My, what a noble group of idiots. Let’s make it a party then, but first...”

He pulled a tablet from under the table and scribbled over it, handing it to Simonee. “Here is a binding transaction agreement that will transfer everything to my account as soon as yours thaw. “

Simonee took the tablet and entered her credentials; she paused. “George Chamberlain?”

Mason tilted his head. “Yes, that’s my name.”

“Then why do they call you Mason?” Mariem asked.

He shrugged. “My mother’s name is Mae. Growing up, everyone called me ‘Mae’s Son’, and it stuck.”

Mason winked and put a finger to his lips. “Shhh, don’t tell anyone.”