Aurora Burning (The Aurora Cycle #2)(21)

Aurora looks at the taller girl. “You have good taste.”

Scarlett herself is dressed in fashion similar to mine. Skintight red polymer. A corset that would constitute torture under most galactic conventions. A hundred buckles that seem to serve no structural purpose. A platinum-blond hairpiece, flowing down to her waist.

I look down at myself, raise one eyebrow in question.

“I fail to see why these pants must be so tight.”

Scarlett twirls what might be a leash around her finger and smiles.

“Kal, honey, you wanna play the role, you’ve gotta dress the part.”

· · · · ·

We enter through separate doors to avoid suspicion.

The foyer of the Dominion Repository is vast, the plasteel fashioned to resemble black marble, the trimmings gilt. The walls and floors are lined with scrolling reams of data from various galactic exchanges. Despite its size, the space is crowded, folk of a dozen different species behind the counters and out on the floor—Tyler has chosen the busiest hour of the cycle for our gambit.

He and Zila go first. Our Brain seems somewhat lost for words, but Tyler keeps her close, leaning in occasionally to whisper in her ear. They walk arm in arm, looking like young lovers out for a midday stroll.

Finian comes in close behind, dressed plainly, dark colors under the gleaming silver of his exosuit. He pretends to receive a call on his uniglass immediately upon entering, shuffling over to a quiet corner of the Repository with one finger to his ear as if to better hear the conversation.

Scarlett and I come last, and as was her intent, our entrance is marked by almost everyone in the foyer—I suppose it is not often they see a statuesque blonde in skintight polyvinyl chloride leading a Syldrathi on a leash. Confidence oozing from every pore, Scarlett glides up to a middle-aged Terran manager in business attire.

The man looks her over from head to foot. “May I help you?”

“Of course you can, darling,” Scarlett says, placing far too many h’s in a word that would seem to possess none. “My name is Madame Belle, thirdwife of Rielle Von Lumiere and imperatrix of the Dusk Court of Elberia IV. My husband left something for me in your deposit facilities.”

The manager glances at me. “Your … husband?”

“Oh no, not him,” Scarlett laughs brightly, touching the Terran’s arm. “No, Germaen here is my … personal trainer. You understand.” She tugs the leash around my neck and hisses, “Stand up straight, Germaen!”

I fix her with a glower hotter than a dozen dwarf stars before I remember the role I am supposed to be playing.

“Apologies, Imperatrix,” I murmur, standing taller.

Scarlett rolls her eyes at the manager. “So hard to find good pets these days.”

“I … understand.”

She gives the man a smile I can only describe as wicked and gifts his arm with another lingering touch. “I’m sure you do, darling.”

Dahhhhhhhling.

“Well,” the manager says, looking more than a little flustered at her attentions. “Please, follow me, Imperatrix. Our vaults are right this way.”

Scarlett gives the man a beautiful smile and sets off after him, dragging me behind with a tug. “Come along, Germaen, don’t dawdle!”

As we make our way across the busy floor, I see Finian working quietly in the corner on his uniglass. While most of the security personnel are busy staring at the spectacle Scarlett is making of us, I can see that one of the Repository’s more conscientious attendants is on the way over to ask if our Gearhead needs help.

Which is when the second stage of our distraction kicks in.

“You BASTARD!”

Scarlett stops short, as does everyone else in the Repository. I turn to see Aurora, red faced, standing in front of Tyler and Zila. She is pointing one accusing finger at our Alpha’s nose as she shouts at the top of her voice.

“You said you were going to your mother’s!” She glares at Zila. “This again?”

Tyler casts his eyes around the room, noting that everyone is staring at him.

“Um, hi, Honeycake …”

Aurora brings back one hand and, with a sound that makes me wince, cracks it across Tyler’s already-bruised face.

“Don’t you honeycake me!” Aurora shouts.

“Oh my.” Scarlett presses her hand to her corset and looks at the manager. “I didn’t think this was that sort of establishment.”

“Security will take care of it,” the manager assures her, snapping his fingers and pointing at the unfolding drama. “Please, come this way, Imperatrix.”

Security descends from all corners as Aurora continues to shout and swear. A guard touches her arm, explains she is “making a scene.” She stabs a finger under his chin and shouts, “Don’t you touch me; I know kung fu!” Tyler attempts an explanation, and Aurora yells over the top of him, and among it all, Zila simply looks horrified, which I suspect is not far from the truth.

But as the manager escorts us toward a heavy door in the rear of the foyer, I see Finian, still in his corner, still working away silently on his uniglass.

The heavy door opens with a scan of the manager’s retina, and after a magnetic sweep for weapons and subdermals, we are through to the deposit room, Aurora’s shouts still ringing behind us. In contrast to the extravagance of the foyer, this room is bland in design. A long plastene table sits in its center. The white walls are lined with thousands of small hatches made of case-hardened stellite.