Part 9 of SCUM by J. A. Johnson

Eversyn stepped from his shower, clean of the sewage plant, though not feeling so.

Two dead Neeks. He couldn't honestly say that he cared, but he couldn't get the fact that no slightest trace of either had been found. The thought nagged at him as he donned a fresh uniform. Things just weren't adding up—the freak explosion, and the missing Neek bodies.

He couldn't make sense of it, and what he couldn't make sense of, he attributed to Malik Blayne. And whereas fifty dead Neeks, much less two, matter nothing at all to him, Malik Blayne was something else entirely.

But if Blayne was responsible for the sewage plant explosion, what he was up to and why was a mystery to Eversyn.

He glanced to his clock on his wall. Oh eight thirty. Perhaps it wasn't too late to have dinner with Rudof. Yes, an excellent idea. He could eat elegant food, discuss his most recent problem…and secretly marvel at the man who was rich enough to eat bov-steak at every meal if he wished.

With a newfound smile on his face, Eversyn left his apartment, and headed for the Starview Lounge.

 

Part 8 of SCUM by J. A. Johnson

Simikus winced at the grip on his arm, then gaped up at the huge Modajai. The bouncer was a big as a cargo-lift. Dressed in a skintight singlet, it was a wall of muscle covered by gray scaly skin. Its face was all square angles and bony ridges.

"Last chance, Neek. You got business here, or not?"

"I… I came to speak to, to Rudof Dyll."

The Modajai scowled and tightened his grip. Simikus felt a tingling numbness seeping into his fingers. "I m-m-mean, Master Dyll. I have a business offer in which he may be interested."

The Modajai glanced up toward the hovering platform. Simikus glanced too and found the conveyance parked almost on top of them. He saw the lively face of Rudof Dyll peering down at him quizzically. After a moment, Dyll nodded to the Modajai.

"This way," growled the hulking bouncer as he half yanked, half shoved Simikus toward a set of stairs near the edge of the main dance floor.

Simikus reached the upper end of the steps, and Rudof Dyll's platform drifted over to meet him. Omega Station's most powerful inhabitant dismissed the beings that had been his company, all save for an intimidating Vamir, and motioned for Simikus to join him.

 Simikus could not believe his great fortune. The Vamir aside, this was a private audience! Simikus sat a little higher in his seat.

"Welcome to the Starview Lounge, my Nicovan friend," Dyll began pleasantly.

Simikus, suddenly aware of the Vamir's skewering stare, nodded nervously at Rudof Dyll. "Um, yes, it's very, very nice. Very posh."

Rudof Dyll's bejeweled eyelashes fluttered as he passed a grin to his bodyguard. "Posh. I can't refute, can I, Algensio?"

The Vamir shook his head, without lifting his gaze from Simikus.

Dyll looked to Simikus, "Again, you're welcome here…not that I have any say in the matter, of course. After all, I'm only a customer myself."

Dyll's ornamented face turned away, and Simikus saw that others scattered throughout the lounge were watching closely.

Simikus swallowed the instant unease that turn his heart cold with fear. This was not the reception he had hoped for. He'd expected Dyll to start negotiations at once, not deny that he had any interest in business.

"Um. I, uh…I know where you can procure a large quantity of straz."

Dyll's green eyes widened and he leaned back in his seat. The Vamir had reached across the table, seized Simikus's head-lobe and pushed his face into an abandoned plate of food that one of Dyll's earlier guests had left.

As Simikus wriggled futilely beneath the Vamir's iron grip, Rudof Dyll leaned in close to his ear and whispered. "Never. Never, ever speak of such subjects around me in public. Do you hear me, Neek?"

Simikus nodded his head as best he could with his face in a pile of yeast steak. He heard Dyll snap his ringed fingers; Algensio released him.

Cautiously, Simikus sat up straight and found Dyll offering him a napkin, a wry grin on the Human's narrow face. He took it, and slowly wiped the food from his face.

What am I going to do? This is all wrong. What was I thinking? Was I thinking? I've got to get out of here, but how do I do that now?

He laid the soiled napkin on the table, and then Simikus's nerves received yet another jolt; this time a good one.

"You're stupid, but you have nerve, Neek. I like that. You intrigue me. Why don't we go somewhere private and discuss this…merchandise?"

With wary eye on the Vamir, Simikus nodded at Dyll's invitation.

 

Part 7 of SCUM by J. A. Johnson

The Starview Lounge was one of the places where famous and important sentients hung out. Rudof Dyll could sometimes be found there; Core, he probably owned it. No secret there, the Dylls owned half of Omega Station. They probably had stakes in the other half as well.

Simikus stepped inside.

The Starview was packed with patrons, its floors teaming with dancers moving to the undulating rhythms of the live somasar music that filled the establishment. Simikus felt instantly out of place, as all of the beings in his immediate vicinity hurled a barrage of disdainful glances his way. Nicovan were not popular with the general public. Only a few of his species had ever been accepted into the social upper crust, and those grudgingly.

Ignoring the glaring eyes, Simikus moved deeper into the restaurant. Rudof Dyll was rumored to have his own private table. Simikus hoped the rumor was true. If he could just speak to Dyll, he knew that he could convince the rich Human to do business with him.

Nobody was ever rich enough, right?

Simikus looked around; he was growing increasingly anxious. Surely the rumors of Dyll frequenting the place were true. They had to be; all of Simikus's plans hinged on Rudof Dyll. Without Dyll, who else was big enough to deal with Simikus on the level he wanted?

Malik Blayne, possibly, but that man was too enigmatic, too hard to find.

No. It had to be Rudof Dyll.

Just as he was beginning to sweat, Simikus looked up and spotted his intended business partner. Dyll's table was situated on one of the floating platforms drifting over the dance floors.

Though he had never before laid eyes on Rudof Dyll, there was no doubt in Simikus's mind as to who he was looking at. The Human was so wonderfully gaudy that Simikus could only stare. What wealth, what style! Simikus sighed in unconscious envy as he took in Dyll's loose, frilly shirt, studded with sparkling… jewels? Yes, jewels by the score. Turning a faint purple with envy, Simikus envisioned himself in such clothing.

As the platform rotated in his direction, he was enraptured by the profusion of glinting gold rings that marched up Dyll's ear lobes, wrapped around his fingers, and there was even a ringlet looped through his right nostril.

The only thing about Dyll's appearance that even Simikus's healthy imagination could not apply to himself, was the red and yellow mane of hair that the Human wore tied behind his head by a golden clasp. Nicovan had no hair. Simikus smiled—well, then, what he lacked in hair, he would simply make up for with additional jewels.

Someone seized him by the arm and spun him about.

"What do you think you're doing in here, Neek?"

Part 6 of SCUM by J. A. Johnson

Captain Eversyn held a rag over his mouth and nose, to filter out the stench of the sewage plant. He had been there less than five minutes and already he had reached a conclusion concerning the explosion investigation. A big fat So what? It was a sewage plant and the smell was so overpowering that Eversyn could not care less what went on down there, past, present or future.

All he wanted now was to get out of the place.

The plant overseer was short, fat, bald and shirtless… well…shirtless only in a literal sense, since every inch of the man's pallid flesh was coated in…Eversyn did not care to know. The husky Human stood nearly waste-deep in the sludge, apparently without wading boots. He looked up at Eversyn.

"So, what'ch figgered out, Cap'n?" He hocked a loogie, and spat it out.

Eversyn pressed the cloth more tightly to his face and suppressed a gag. Why had he come down here? He could have sent someone else to check into this; Benn, for instance.

"You said…you said that one of your people is missing?"

"Two. I said two."         

"You're sure?"

The man snorted and held up three knobby fingers. "I kin count."

All right, be quick, give the pretense of an investigation and get out of here.

"Let me get their names."

"They was Neeks. I'm 'posed to know their names?" The overseer guffawed at the very thought, waving it away dismissively. "Look, alls I wanna knows is what cause the 'splosion. I don't needs to be around here if they's gonna be another one, if you knows what I mean."

"Believe me, I can understand not wanting to be around here." Eversyn glanced around the tank. "You say they use electric prods to herd the fungus?

"Tha's right. Like this un." The overseer drew a grimy prod from a hip pocket and handed it over.

Eversyn braced himself before taking the cloth from his face and using it to hold the prod.

The overseer rolled his blubber-squinched eyes. "Low voltage. Nothin' special."

Eversyn considered the wisdom of using an electrical prod, however low the voltage, while standing in liquid.

It was a wonder something like this hadn't happened before now.

He handed the prod back. "Well, if I had to guess, I'd say one of these prods malfunctioned, exploded. That reacted to the gasses in the air, resulting in the fire."

That sound like enough of an answer. It was enough for him anyway.

"I would recommend you have someone perform a safety check on all of the prods. No doubt they could all stand a little maintenance."

Part 5 of SCUM by J. A. Johnson

Simikus Giff was euphoric as he pried the floor plating up and looked inside the secret compartment. Icy air issued from the opening in white, misty swirls.

Although he had already checked more than once and knew himself to be alone in the maintenance corridor beneath the Wayamr district's atmoscyke plant, Simikus nevertheless looked about the shadowy space before setting the panel aside.

Deep within the compartment, nestled snuggly against the coolant pipes, were dozens of frosty vials—each laden with the frozen ka'frindi he had patiently smuggled from the sewage plant.

As ka'frindi, the fungus could have provide him with a comfortable lifestyle—by Nicovan standards anyway—for years to come. But, with the secret he had discovered about the delicacy, instead of comfortable, Simikus was going to be rich beyond his most outlandish imaginings.

He ran a hand across his chilly stash, noting his missing finger.

"Ah, yes. Time to fix that." He reached around one of the frigid conduits and brought forth his long absent appendage. Using the pilfered medical device, he thawed and reattached the finger.

"Welcome back, my little friend," he said, flexing the finger until it regained its former flexibility.

Dressed in Ograd's yellow suit, his ka'frindi horde safe, and his finger reattached, Simikus was ready for business. He replaced the floor plate and then quietly stole away from the maintenance corridor.

Part 4 of SCUM by J. A. Johnson

Captain Carle Eversyn read over the incident report as it scrolled across his desktop holoscreen. Unless he was mistaken, there hadn't been any explosions in any of Omega Station's sewage treatment plants since long before he'd arrived as head of the Consolidated Guard a few standard months ago. An addendum tagged to the end of the report confirmed what he'd already been thinking, and then some.

There hadn't been an explosion in over a hundred cycles.

He wondered how he should take the incident. On the one hand, it was just the sewage plant, and the Rock had more than enough of those.

On the other hand, this was Omega Station and everything meant something more than was apparent at first glance.

Eversyn sighed and called his secretary.

"Yes, Captain?" The young Halsan woman's voice practically sparkled over the intercom.

"Please call Master Dyll and express my apologies, but I will have to cancel our dinner meeting. Explain to him that an emergency has arisen and duty calls."

"Yes, Sir. Will there be anything further?"

"That will be all, Lisolia, thank you."

He clicked the comsys off, then took his standard issue sidearm from his desk drawer and holstered it, picked up his data pad and stylus, pocketed them in his flack vest and headed for the door.

He hated missing his meeting with Rudof Dyll. From what he knew of Dyll—and that wasn't very much—Eversyn was fairly confident that the most influential sentient on the Rock would not take offense. On the contrary, thought Eversyn, Dyll always seemed to take particular interest in his job. Why was beyond Eversyn's ability to grasp. Politeness? Dyll didn't need to be polite to anyone; he was too rich. Sincere curiosity in the routine headaches of the head of the Consolidated Guard's presence on Omega Station?

Or perhaps Rudof Dyll simply sees me as an equal.

That was a comforting thought and it kept him smiling all the way down to the still flaming tanks of the sewage plant.

Part 3 of SCUM by J. A. Johnson

An hour from now, he would be Ograd Paxa, a Nicovan of means fresh off the transport—registered this time with a hastily, albeit convincingly, forged I.D. packet—come to Omega Station for entrepreneurial reasons.

Six levels up, the lift's doors opened Simikus stepped out onto the crowded public mall of the Wayamr commercial quarter—and straight into the broad chest of a Consolidated Guardsman.

"Slow it down," said the Connie.

Simikus felt numbed to the core, as if one of his prods had misfired in its holster and paralyzed him. With a look of disgust, the Connie brushed him aside and continued walking his beat. Simikus watched the officer's back until the burly Human became lost in the crowd.

When he could feel his legs again, Simikus started walking…more slowly this time.

"Lighten up," he muttered. "There's no need to get all paranoid just yet. The plan is good, it's working perfectly." He looked around, found the corridor he was looking for and headed down it.

Several turns later, Simikus stopped outside the door of his new home, the pod of Ograd Paxa. Ograd Paxa. He smiled; he would have to get used to using that name from now on. Looking to his left and right, Simikus double checked for any passersby. Seeing none, he drew Paxa's finger from his breast pocket and pressed it to the access panel next to the door.

The door to the pod clicked open.

He was in.

Simikus closed the door and immediately reprogrammed the pod to accept his own fingerprint. He then disposed of the lonely digit in the recyke vat. He would be glad once he'd reattached his own finger.

He looked around the tiny dwelling. For a sewer worker, Paxa kept an amazingly clean home. It had been years since Simikus had been inside a room that didn't smell of sludge.

"Well, never you mind keeping this hole in order. By this evening you'll be shopping for something much roomier and a maid service to keep it clean."

Simikus rummaged through Ograd's closet. Ograd Paxa had a surprisingly large wardrobe.

"Five outfits!" Simikus was flabbergasted. Then his eyes alighted on one in particular. "What style! Who would ever have guessed you had such taste, Ograd?" He pulled a dapper coverup from the rack.

Dressed in the dead Nicovan's clothes, Simikus apprised himself in the mirror. The deep yellow coverup with its dark blue piping contrasted nicely with his creamy green skin and black eyes.

"You already look rich," he cooed to himself.

He angled his head for one last look at the lobe pointing straight off the back of his skull; nice and shiny. He looked great. He felt great. He was great!