But Whiskey wasn't paying much attention. She had wolfed down her own stew, oblivious to the angry rants of her partner, and was drinking in the last of the broth, bowl tipped high into the air as if in salute to the cook. With a deep
Aaaaaaah, she placed the dish back on the table and took a big gulp from her water cup. Her spoon, napkin, and cup, all disposable in the interest of saving water, crumpled beneath her fingers. She threw them into the empty bowl, stood up, and picked up her trash. At the questioning look from Anira, Whiskey shrugged.
"I'm done, I'm full, I got business elsewhere that's on something of a time crunch."
Business. Yeah. That Suit chick would pay for her "test tube baby" remark. The Clone hadn't received her highest marks in martial arts for no reason, and she'd be lying to herself if she said she wasn't going to enjoy punching the smug out of the Androlov's face. Typical Suit.
At least not all Suits were like that. Anira seemed to be just as angry at the woman as she herself was. Perhaps it was a put on, a manipulation, or a calculated move on her part. Whiskey had no real concept of subtlety, so any kind of backbiting the rich and powerful might do was beyond her. All the same, Anira at least
seemed genuine. But if her academic report was any indication, the Litimco girl was no martial artist. And Whiskey felt the compulsion, whether through her own desire or her genetic programming she wasn't sure, to keep her partner safe. And right now, ignorance was probably the best way to do that.
"And it's
personal business, Litimco," she stated, "so I'll meet you back at the bunk, m'k?"
With a smile and a wave, Whiskey turned on her heel. She tossed the trash in the recycler and pushed her way out of the door.
*****
Fifteen minutes later
"I know, right?"
L'Kundi's alto cut through air of the steel halls, and she laughed along with Androlov and some asinine joke one of them had made. Klein shook his head minutely. They had been like that ever since he'd met them, though why
the Tia L'Kundi stuck around with that Catherine woman, he'd never know. But Tia was enough reason for him to deal with the her, so he followed along behind them, hands in his pockets and a vaguely bored expression on his face. This was not how he thought being on Ceres would be like, their approach to the base notwithstanding. There was nothing,
nothing going on, and dammit, if trouble didn't come, he might make some himself.
The girls passed through an adjacent hallway ahead. From behind the wall, from his point of view, a gloved fist shot out, catching Tia squarely in her jaw. The dark skinned woman dropped like a stone, and Cat screamed as a leather jacketed woman with blue hair grabbed the heiress by the lapels, picked her up, and slammed her against the far wall.