The commwalls between storefronts were covered in ads for corporate products and services, constantly shifting to attract the attention of whoever was passing by based on the information skimmed from their commlinks. Because there were so many people moving so rapidly, the data was aggregated rather than specific, designed to find majority overlap for maximum appeal rather than targeting specific preferences. Eva had rigged her commlink long ago, so as far as the algorithms were concerned, she was an exceptionally average thirty-four-year-old human. Vakar was the sole quennian in sight, so he’d never show up on a feed even if he hadn’t also rigged his commlink, and Pink had turned off the function despite periodic software updates that turned it back on and made it harder to opt out of.
Sue, unfortunately . . .
“Oh, wow, that is so cool!” Sue said, stopping to gawk at yet another ad for holographic mech paint. “And you can program in different designs, like tattoos!”
“Come on,” Eva said, grabbing Sue by the arm and towing her back into the crowd, which scrambled up and down the corridor like hyperactive toddlers. “You’re supposed to be thinking like Josh. What would he notice? What would he think was important?”
“I’m not really sure,” Sue said. Her attention kept wandering back to the walls, bright and flashy and moving. Eva sighed. This whole trip was starting to feel like a waste of fuel, even if she wasn’t paying for it.
The crowd thinned suddenly, like someone had punched a hole in the hull and let all the atmo out, leaving them nearly alone except for a pair of kloshians and a chuykrep who was stroking his proboscis nervously. Small service bots zipped out to clean the floors, making tiny agitated beeping noises. On the walls, closer to eye level, there were smaller squares, about thirty to sixty centimeters on a side, advertising jobs and events and professional services. Local stuff, mostly, whatever was able to eke out an existence between the cracks of corporate control like weeds in a sidewalk. Occasionally one of them flickered like it was trying to reboot, sometimes disappearing soon after—hacked, probably, though Eva could never get a good look at what they showed before they were gone.
Eva opened comms to Min. “Find anything yet?” she asked.
“Sorry, Cap,” Min replied. “I got distracted. Did you know Leroy was here six months ago?”
“Really?” Interesting. Crash Sisters did a lot of touring, but Eva wouldn’t have guessed Medoral or its station would be one of their stops.
“Yeah, they did a big show at some stadium on the surface.” Min giggled. “I was watching the holovid when you called. They did a Grand Melee, which is—”
“That thing where they get a bunch of locals to fight the regular cast, I remember.” Eva rolled her eyes as one of the commwalls started showing an ad for Crash Sisters, with prominent corporate sponsorship labeling. “I doubt Josh came here to catch a fake fighting show.”
“It’s not fake!”
“Sí, claro, totally real. Focus, please.”
“Right.” Min paused. “The only other thing I’m seeing is a product demonstration. A new robot? I can’t tell what it’s for.”
Eva continued to walk, the thock of her cane hitting the floor echoing in the wide space. “What does it look like?” she asked.
“It’s really cute,” Min said. “Like a yellowish mouse, with rabbit ears and red cheeks and a long tail. Oh, wait, there’s another one, kind of like a tiny todyk without feathers?”
The commwalls shifted again, now showing an ad for what must have been something related to the product. A logo floated into view, a stylized rendering of an ovoid purple-and-white capsule with a button on the front, above words that translated to “Pod Pals” with alternate suggestions of “Shell Sidekicks” and “Ball Buddies”; the latter made Eva bark out a laugh that was uncomfortably loud even to her.
“Ball Buddies,” Pink muttered next to Eva, shaking her head. “I swear to god.”
Sue, of course, was enraptured. The ad flashed a series of robots that, as Min had said, looked like adorable animals, right down to fake fur and scales and feathers. Children hugged them, adults played with them like they were pets, but then suddenly they were in what looked like a wrestling ring? Two of them faced off, one spitting fire while the other dodged and attacked with a vicious head-butt.
Better than cockfighting, I guess, Eva thought. Much easier to fix a robot, though it could be creepy depending on how sapient they were.
At the end of the ad was a notice that the corporation that made the robots, Sylfe Company, was hiring locals for distribution jobs at their planetside warehouse. Applications available on the q-net, send résumé, minimum two years’ experience, etc. That stayed on the wall for a few moments, then the ad was replaced with another one for fancy cooking knives. A current human obsession, probably.
“I want one,” Sue said, eyes wide and nearly gleaming.
“A Ball Buddy?” Eva asked. “You could probably build your own if you tried.”
Sue’s face took on a pensive expression. “Hmm, maybe. I’ve never worked with synthetic skins or furs before, though.”
Vakar had wandered off on his own while they watched the ad, and now came stalking back toward them in a deliberate way that Eva knew was intended to look casual. He had dressed in a civilian spacesuit instead of his Wraith gear so he wouldn’t stand out, but he took a smell suppressant before they left so his emotions wouldn’t be telegraphed to anyone with scent-translator nanites. He put an arm around Eva’s shoulder, leaning closer to butt his head against hers affectionately, but he smelled bothered, like old cigarettes.
“We are being monitored,” he said quietly.
Eva smiled up at him. “Who?” she asked, speaking through her teeth.
“The buasyr in the store selling storage containers for travelers. Behind me.”
“Humans call it ‘luggage,’ you know.” Eva made a show of smooching the side of Vakar’s face while she checked the guy out. Tall, four arms, dark fur, mess of eyes like a spider’s. Wearing a tight suit that probably doubled as armor. She might have assumed he was a typical retail employee, killing time by making minute adjustments to the store’s displays of suitcases and indestructible boxes and hover straps, but his fingers were twitching like he was furiously sending messages to someone, and he glanced at Eva and looked away repeatedly in the span of a few moments.
“Should we go say hello?” Eva asked.
“It might be more advisable to depart with haste,” Vakar replied.
Pink sidled up next to them. “What are you two lovebirds chatting about, hmm?”
“The Fridge agent in the retail establishment behind me,” Vakar said.
Eva released him and stepped back, gently whacking his leg with her cane. “You didn’t say he was Fridge,” she said. “How do you know?”
“His biosignature matches one in Wraith records. Also, he has been joined by two associates.”
There were indeed now three employees acting busy in the luggage store: the buasyr, a truateg, and a human. While theoretically none of them were armed, thanks to station security, there were ways of getting around restrictions, especially if they worked here. Hell, if this had been one of her dad’s smuggling operations, half the suitcases would already have weapons in them.