High Society
How well do troubledogs clean up? Well enough to get dirty again :P
How well do troubledogs clean up? Well enough to get dirty again :P
It's another triangledog story! After I wrote "The Good Ship and Crew" I kinda realized that Devin doesn't really work on his own. Plus it was a friend's birthday, and they like jackals, so... I wrote this in a day, but I'm happy with how it turned out and I always, always love writing this pair. Enjoy :D
Released under the Creative Commons BY-NC-SA license. Share, modify, and redistribute -- as long as it's attributed and noncommercial, anything goes.
"High Society," by Rob Baird
"Pretty," Casey said.
Dev looked up. Both suns were setting, and the water ran from deep cobalt near the shore to blood red out at the horizon. It was pretty, but the coyote turned back to his station. "Six minutes."
"Plenty of time," the jackal answered; the freighter banked gently, nose lowering towards the approaching spaceport. "You think we should try to get a better look? Gain some altitude? I can see why Tori moved here. She's kind of a sucker for pretty things."
He didn't rise to the bait, either about the suggestion that they keep flying or about Casey's sister. "Engines are in landing configuration. You're good any time, jackal."
"That sounds like a matter of opinion." But she flipped a few switches, and Dev felt inertia tug at him as the freighter slowed. "Royvok control, this is the Long Tall Sally, requesting landing clearance."
"Ah, roger that," a genial voice drawled. "Long Tall Sally, you're cleared to land at any open bay."
"The furthest one," Casey suggested.
She was looking over her shoulder at him, and no longer on the radio. Dev narrowed his eyes. "If you like," he said testily.
Casey laughed, and turned her attention back to the controls. And because she was not, after all, stupid, she brought the freighter down at one of the closer pads. By Dev's calculations, they had four and a half minutes of fuel remaining by the time she cut power to the thrusters.
So they hadn't needed to glide, but it was still closer than he'd liked. Fixing the equipment malfunction that cost them most of their fuel occupied nearly all of the journey while they diverted to Kanavaz--it was only on the final approach that he had time to fret about how thin the margin for error was.
"Let's get a refueling order put in and check out the town, Dev? What do you say? I'll get the ship secured if you want to handle the dockside stuff..."
The late-evening air was warm enough to be pleasant, but cool enough not to feel any of the humidity. Must be why this makes a good resort planet, the coyote mused. That and there's nothing else to do. Kanavaz was on a major tradelane, towards the rim of the Terran Confederation, but with few natural resources it maintained its existence by separating merchants from their money.
"How can I help you, sir?" The dock attendant he finally tracked down was a Kanavazian native--they looked a little like Terran kangaroos, except more delicately built and with graceful, spiraled horns.
"I'd like to get the ship refueled."
"Do you know how much you need?"
"Ah. All of it. Twenty-six hundred or so."
The attendant blinked, his long eyelashes fluttering in surprise. "Twenty-six hundred?" His horns, like many on Kanavaz, were finely decorated with glyphs representing the story of his life; they swept the air when he tilted his head questioningly.
It was an interesting concept, though Dev was given to wonder how enough happened to fill up one's horns on a planet where the temperature never dropped below five degrees or exceeded thirty. "Yeah. We ran into some trouble and lost most of the tank. Can you do that?"
"Yeah. Sure, we have enough, just... wow."
Tell me about it. He returned to the Long Tall Sally where, seeing him, another Kanavazian bounded over. This one seemed younger, judging by her short horns, and so enthusiastic that she nearly skidded into the coyote--spreading her arms at the last moment to reveal the folded membrane of her wings.
"Welcome!" she chirped, catching her breath. "Welcome to Royvok!"
"Thanks," he said carefully.
The girl straightened herself up and, with a flick of her slender arm, tossed something at the coyote. Her throw was deceptively expert: the necklace, caught around his neck, fell precisely against his chest.
"What's this?" He lifted it to examine the jewelry: a small amethyst, suspended on a chain of finely braided thread. "More importantly: what do I owe you for it?"
She beamed. "Nothing! It's just a token of our hospitality."
"Of course, you wouldn't turn down a credit or two as a tip," the coyote guessed. She kept smiling. He was in a good mood, though, with solid ground under his feet; he took out a chip from his pocket and flipped it over. She caught it with the same skill as she'd bedecked him. "What's good on Royvok, anyway?"
"It depends on your interests! Tomorrow is the festival of Volasmin-kanavaz-kari, a celebration of companionship and fertility. People are compelled to observe that in... different fashions, of course..."
Naturally. "Restaurants? A good bar?"
The girl took a careful look at the denomination of the Confederation credit he'd given her. "You're a man of refined tastes," she guessed. "Go to Palak's. Up there," she pointed to a glass-framed structure floating above the port. "They move it up or down to make sunrises and sunsets last longer."
"Clever."
There was a sound from within the Long Tall Sally, and they both turned as Casey stepped out and into the evening. "Made a friend already, I see," the jackal said, joining them. She took the amethyst of his necklace between her fingers, and her ears flicked. "A very good friend, apparently..."
"They move fast."
The Kanavazian girl looked between them quickly. "Oh! I didn't realize! You're a couple! It is not like that, newcomer," she reassured Casey.
"I mean, hey... he's a good-looking coyote." For a coyote, he thought he heard the jackal mutter, under her breath.
"No! No, please, my apologies!"
"My pilot is just a little--" But before Dev could finish, the Kanavazian tugged the necklace and the braid snapped. She reclaimed it and brought two fresh examples out from an embroidered satchel at her side.
She tossed one at Dev, who remained motionless for the thing to fall around his neck like the first one had. Casey stared, and the Kanavazian seemed to understand that the jackal would not so obliging. "It is a token of welcome--to our planet, and to Royvok. That's all."
"I've already paid, don't worry."
Casey sighed, and bowed her head so the girl could slip the necklace over it. As far as Dev could tell, it was the same design, except the amethyst had been replaced with polished tigereye.
"The purple stone, that's for the... the unattached," the girl explained. "But, please, I didn't mean anything by it."
"I'm sure you didn't," the jackal said. Her voice was sharp--nothing about the Kanavazian in particular, Dev assumed, except that Casey didn't care for being on the other side of a hustle.
It worked; presently the girl bounced off, leaving the two alone. "They'll fuel us overnight, Case. It was fourteen credits a kilo. I know that ain't great... expensive lesson in having a backup pump recirculator, I guess."
"I guess," the jackal said. She lifted the stone of her necklace, turning it to catch the very last sunlight. "Don't want to guess how much these damn things cost."
"Let's just say we aren't gonna make a profit reselling 'em. It's more for, y'know, sentimental value."
"Uh huh. So are we married now, or what?"
"Probably should check the tax implications before we make it official."
"Good point."
"See? I look out for you. Anyway, the girl said something about Palak's--you want to try dinner there?"
The host at Palak's looked at their clothes skeptically: Casey was in khakis and a t-shirt, and Dev's windbreaker had served as the coyote's pillow in dozens of shady port terminals over the years. "And you said 'Carr'? A Tori Carr is one of our employees. Also a jackal, as I recall. But she's from Ivinari, and you're from..."
"Neue Kassel," Dev answered. He'd found it a useful lie: everyone knew of the planet, but almost nobody had been. They tended to chalk things up to a different, mysterious culture. "Our ship just landed."
"You have a ship?"
"Indeed. Frau Carr is a businessmen, and I am her technical consultant."
"Among other things," Casey said.
By chance the host's eyes flicked to the necklaces; it seemed to change his interpretation of 'other things.' "I see. I had the wrong impression, certainly. Please, enjoy your stay. Might I make a suggestion? There's another Terran here, who has been looking for a respectable couple with a hirable vessel."
"Do you know why?"
"You should hear it from him. Dr. Roberto Palacios--a raccoon, I think you call them. You might be able to come to some agreement. If you're interested."
Palak's was not a restaurant, exactly; it was something more like a greenhouse, containing an open garden through which a sprawling party circulated. Most of the attendees had, indeed, settled on more formal attire than either of the canids.
"We look a bit out of place," Casey admitted.
"They'll just assume we make too much to care about silly things like that. Besides: we're in love. It's easy to get distracted that way."
The jackal's carnelian eyes glinted. She took Devin's paw and squeezed--hard. "I'm going to be right back. I have an acquaintance to catch up with. Stay out of trouble?"
"Don't throw your sister off the edge, Casey."
"I'll consider it." She leaned over, gave him a peck on the cheek for effect, and slipped off into the crowd.
Dev picked over trays of food--each of them familiar but having gone slightly wrong somewhere along the way. One tray contained tacos, he thought, but they were no larger than his thumb. Another was Coronadan sushi, down to the lavender-hued rice, but filled with gummy paste instead of fish.
After an unfortunate experiment with what he'd taken to be dumplings, he settled on whiskey. And he eyed the others around him, a mix of Terrans and aliens from across the Terran Confederation and some of the cultures beyond the border, as well.
Palacios turned out to be conspicuous. He was the only raccoon, which helped. But, more than that, he was wearing a blazer done in Navarran black: it reflected no light and, even in the soft glow of torches, the utter shadow of his frame caught the eye.
Devin made his way over. "Dr. Palacios?"
"Ah? Do I know you?"
"Not yet. I'm Devin. The host suggested I might find you--something about a job you were interested in?"
The doctor nodded. "Well, Devin, I suppose that depends. I imagine... probably not, to be honest. I have somewhat particular needs."
"Oh?"
"For one... where are you from, anyway?"
"Neue Kassel."
He nodded again, chewing on his lip. "Yes, I see. Well. Here, and on many other planets, that is the sort of whiskey that you might... pour into a glass, rather than... taking nips of it as though you were holding a flask, like a longshoreman."
"Ach so. My apologies, herr doktor. I don't understand all these customs." He tried thickening the accent, to see if that helped.
"Yes. Indeed. Well, you see, I have a passenger I would like transported, but... it's rather sensitive and, well. You'll understand if... ah..."
"Devin! Oh, there you are."
He didn't recognize Casey at first. Her khakis were gone, as was the t-shirt. The necklace was the only thing she'd kept; it lay against the shimmering silk of a dress that flowed sinuously most of the way to her knees.
The dress was fuchsia, with embroidered hibiscus flowers that, in the light, matched the deep red of the wine in her glass. The jackal smiled: a certain toothiness in it was the only tell. "Who is your friend, dear?"
"Dr. Roberto Palacios. You recall, I mentioned him?"
"Right! So you did. Has my husband described our business to you, doctor?"
The raccoon paused, gaze switching between the two swiftly. "Husband?"
Casey stepped closer, and Dev put his paw around her side. He'd never felt fabric quite so soft and lustrous, but he managed to pretend not to notice. The jackal smiled indulgently. "I suppose he didn't want to give you the wrong impression? But yes, it's true. He didn't say anything about what you needed..."
"A passenger to be transported. By someone reliable, and of respectable bearing." Palacios was still off balance, Dev could tell by the look in his eyes. Faced with two tricksters, of wildly different appearance, the raccoon was wisely trying to figure out what game was afoot.
Casey laughed gently. "I told you this was not that kind of affair, Devin. He's so used to only seeing his engineering friends, where it doesn't matter how you look as long as you're some kind of genius." She put a skeptical accent on the last word.
Devin _ahem_ed. "For the record--"
"Yes, yes." She turned, kissing the side of his cheek. "I know you are, coyote. First patent when you were seven. Dr. Palacios is not a propulsion expert, sweetheart. You're not, right, doctor?"
"No," the raccoon said. "I work in hospitality."
"Devin is not good with that, either. But he is good at starships. We have one here, actually. It's very nice not to need a chauffeur sometimes, wouldn't you agree? Now, who's this passenger?"
"My daughter. She's been accepted to the Allam School of Fine Arts, on Engelta VI. To be honest, I don't wish to book passage on a traditional liner. The kind of people who visit Kanavaz are not the sort of people I want her consorting with."
"Understandably so!" Casey sounded scandalized. "This is our first visit, and I have to say, we were ambushed by this girl hawking..."
Palacios bristled, for some reason; Dev let Casey keep talking while he activated the neural implant that let him connect to the META network without a terminal. Not strictly legal, not in the configuration he used, but worth every last credit he'd spent to have it installed--there was, after all, plenty of information out there for the taking.
"Which is why I was so happy when she chose it," Dr. Palacios said. Dev briefly skimmed the last bit of conversation. Palacios: Kanavaz is not a place for cultured people. Casey: Oh, certainly. Engelta will be much nicer. Palacios: Which is why I was so happy...
Devin cleared his throat. "Allam, in particular. The sculpture on your nightstand--that was Busvulur Arikenla. She went to Allam. She has a building on the campus named for her, even. Did you not know? It captures the green of the Keyan Esplanade so well. The vanadium content of the emerald is, truly, I say, it's a wonderful--"
"Later, perhaps," Casey interrupted. But he felt her foot pressing atop his.
What? Why? "Fine..." The foot pressed harder. Oh, I see. She wants me to keep going. "But it really is wondrous, liebchen. The perfect mixture of art and science. We should go to Keya sometime. I'd love to see it again."
"You've been?" Dr. Palacios asked, dangerously close to being ensnared.
"Only for a summer. I interned at the Pursalma Institute. If you've been? The... the apartments over the Esplanade? Mein Gott, it was very hard to want to leave that view and go to the office. But I managed. Just before I met you, Casey," he added.
"Lucky for me you tore yourself away," the jackal said, with an affectionate smile. Her foot was no longer pressing down. "You never told me that."
"I was distracted."
Dr. Palacios looked at the pair, and finally clicked his tongue. "I should get another drink, and then perhaps we can discuss... practicalities? Maybe at one of the tables over there? Would you like something else, Devin?"
"I'm fine." The coyote held up the bottle of whiskey, partly to show that it was half-full and mostly so that Casey could swipe it from his grasp with an exasperated sigh.
"Devin, I swear, sometimes... I'm sorry, Dr. Palacios."
"Think nothing of it," the raccoon said, and headed for the bar while Casey and Dev made their way to an open table.
Casey sat--then took a deep breath, set her wineglass down, uncapped his whiskey and helped herself to a healthy swig. "Fuck. Good misdirection on the school."
"Thanks. Engelta is an independent planet in the Sar-Priuza sector. Old TC allies; lots of trade. Fantastically wealthy. Keya City has a lot of Confed citizens hiding out for... well, they say culture, but I imagine it's really for tax purposes. It's known for its art and architecture."
"Not our kind of place," Casey pointed out.
"No. But I bet the money to get there is. Palacios runs most of the resorts here. He's the one behind the welcome committee, also, for the record. So I guess... nice job keeping the necklace. Is Tori still alive?"
"It was a friendly discussion," the jackal said. She took another drink of whiskey. "She told me where I could find some clothes. That's all I wanted."
"Will you give them back to her?"
She shrugged. "Like she wouldn't end up naked by the end of the night anyway?"
"Like you won't, either?" He held his grin until Casey snorted and returned it. "Anyway. Palacios runs these resorts, plus most of the others between here and Fall. His wife left three years ago. Maybe she, uh, 'met' a Kanavazian--I can't chase all the rumors on META, but I think that's where his 'respectability' complex comes from."
"So we're a stable, wealthy couple with a ship and nothing else to do but ferry his daughter to school? A good influence?"
"Yeah. Can you do that? He's headed back here."
"Pretend to be a good influence, or pretend we're a stable couple? I can try."
"Love ya, Case."
Her eyes flashed, and torchlight caught on her fangs. "Yeah, you're alright."
Palacios joined them, with a bottle of Royvok whiskey and an ornate glass. He held it up to show Devin, though the tone of his voice was quite different now: "One of these, is what I was talking about. It's a tradition among the Kanavazians."
"Yes, I see. I see."
When he poured the whiskey into the glass, it spiraled through channels on the outside to pool at the bottom, where it reflected the fine enamel landscape to present an image of the planet's dual sunsets. "A toast?"
"To the festival of Volasmin-kanavaz-kari," Devin suggested.
"Good! Yes. To that!"
After they'd clinked glasses, and Devin had taken a scrupulously small taste of whiskey from the bottle Casey returned to him, the coyote explained: "a festival of companionship, I was told, when I landed."
"When the suns align, yes. There's always some festival, of course." He went on to talk about Kanavazian culture, and the degree to which it had benefited from the oversight of a man with sufficient responsibility to manage the business aspects of the resorts. The canids nodded, as the story rambled on. Eventually, though, Casey leaned against the coyote's side, and Dr. Palacios stopped. "So: how did you two meet, anyway?"
"One chance, dear," the jackal murmured.
"I was inspecting vessels at Alpha Centauri, and there was--I must say it--there was a truly beautiful old Jacksonville-class transport being refitted. Of course, with those ships, you must be careful, because the reactor sub-assembly, ach, it's really a shame if they--"
Casey nudged his shoulder playfully. "Stop. I was looking for a new ship, and this fellow took him upon himself to help me. Negotiations took a while, and the longer I spent with him this kind of... passion," she laughed, waving a paw at the coyote. "It began to seem charming. I asked if he'd come with me on the shakedown cruise. Maybe it hasn't ended yet."
"Hopefully," Dev said. He turned, and Casey obligingly met him for a gentle kiss. "It was a bad sub-assembly, though."
She gave him a pat. "I know it was."
"So you know ships," Palacios began. "Yours is a good one?"
"The one we came in? Yes," Casey assured him. "Fast, reliable... we've taken it almost everywhere."
"Would you be... willing to detour to Engelta? If it's not out of your way, naturally. My daughter won't be any trouble--she's quiet; she'll keep to her cabin. I'd just like her not be exposed to the... temptation of a passenger liner. You know how it is."
"Why do you think we don't take them?" Casey asked. "I think we could detour, Devin, don't you?"
"If you want, dear. But: once we're done, we are going to the Keyan Symphony Orchestra. I haven't forgiven for you for making me miss the concert on Nizar."
Casey sighed, putting her paw on his. "We're having a business discussion right now. We'll fight about this later."
But the coyote saw Palacios smile. "I'll let you get to the argument, don't worry. If you could leave tomorrow, I'll have her things sent to the harbor for you. Does tomorrow morning work? I'll have payment sent, too. Shall we say... sixty thousand? Is that acceptable?"
"Ah, yes, I should think so," Casey said. "Can we be ready by then, Devin?"
"Yes. They were just refueling and cleaning it--I'm sure it's ready now, for that matter."
Wonderful, Dr. Palacios finished. Devin thought 'cleaning' had been a nice touch. The Long Tall Sally's passenger quarters were spartan enough that spraying them down with a hose would do the trick.
Back at the freighter, Casey went forward to start the astrogation work. Devin checked the fuel tanks, which had indeed been replenished, and joined her in the cockpit to see how she was getting on. "Problems?"
"It adds about six parsecs." The jackal shrugged, leaning back in her chair until she was looking at the coyote upside-down. "You think we can run at flank speed all the way from Engelta to Sepin-Sirte?"
"Yeah. The drive won't like it, but we could use a teardown on the integrator anyway. Do that on Sepin?"
"Sure, yeah." She sat up, powered down the computer, and got to her feet. "Then with fuel and rescheduling the landing on Sepin-Sirte, we should clear about fifty grand. Not bad, coyote."
"Not bad." Though it didn't take too much work for his attention to wander elsewhere, with similar adjectives. "You look good in that dress, Case."
"High society has its moments. That was a fun evening." Bushy tail wagging, eyes glinting, she stepped closer to him. Their necklaces briefly clicked together. "Nice bit of roleplay..."
"Uh huh. Roleplay." He slid his arms around the jackal, growling softly. "What about when we broke character?" He worked his paws down her back, gathering the silk between his fingers when he squeezed her rear. "I told you this was coming off by the end of the evening. After we were done 'pretending to be a stable couple.'"
Casey smirked, clicking her teeth. "Are we done?"
The coyote pulled her dress up until he could get his fingers beneath it, and pressed into the sandy fur of her hips. "I think so." He groped her; watched her eyes darken. "Fuck. Y'know--'yeah, you're alright'? God, you're a bitch sometimes, Case."
She snickered. "Only 'sometimes'? I'm slipping."
"Often enough."
"Yeah?" Her arms were about his neck; she pulled herself closer, until their noses touched. "Then what are you gonna do about it?"
He growled. And the moment he kissed her, Casey growled right back. Her claws dug in, and they clenched harder when he groped her again. And she moaned, the kiss breaking for a fraction of a second--she made up for it by cocking her head, locking their muzzles together.
Their tongues met, teased each other. He slipped forward, into her mouth, sweet with the faint taste of the evening's wine. One of her knees seemed to buckle--he caught her, spun the jackal and somehow the corridor was at her back, fixing her in place as he pinned her. The grind of his hips was more forceful than he'd meant.
But it did the trick. They were both panting. "How much you care about that dress?"
"It's a nice dress?"
"Then you better take it off the right way."
She grunted, and pushed him away reluctantly. "Fine. C'mon."
C'mon meant their quarters. It was all of a ten-meter walk, and it left the coyote exceedingly aware of how much he needed to get his pants off. The door was still half-open when he started undressing--by the time it had slid all the way shut his jeans were halfway down the coyote's legs and he'd kicked his boots in two completely different directions.
It didn't seem like Casey took the dress off so much as it drained from her, the fine silk spilling down her rangy frame and puddling on the floor. At once the elegance shifted to rough-edged, tawny-furred, eminently unrespectable heat, from her sharp eyes to her swaying tail.
Dev gripped the jackal firmly in his paws, savoring the familiar touch of her pelt in his grasp. Pinning her again wasn't his intention, but they wound up against the wall anyway, locked in a hungry kiss. She growled at every touch, every shift of his body that brought them closer together.
"Now," she gasped.
It took effort to pull away. "Bed, then. Go on."
She stepped onto it and bent over immediately, settling onto her knees. Her tail stopped wagging--hiked up, just barely swaying over the peppered charcoal of her back. Her ears were perked forward. When Devin got behind her, they twitched. When he guided his cock into place, and she gasped at the touch, they twitched again.
Then he pushed forward. Warmth spread around his cock, snug and wet and just as exquisite as it always was--but he growled as though it was novel, and Casey's broad ears pinned, her back arched, and she shuddered. "That's a good coyote..."
Their hips were flush; her lifted tail trapped against the coyote's belly. He caressed her sides, drawing her gently back as he ground against the other canid in the appropriate stance she'd chosen. "Damn good jackal," he replied. He pulled back a bit, then thrust heavily back in.
He intended to follow that up with something more meaningful, but what came out of his open muzzle instead was a coarse snarl as he hilted himself in the jackal's tight pussy, and the strength of that plunge set the tone for every one that followed.
Not that Casey objected to his lack of eloquence. High society had moments, but none of them were being taken on all fours by an increasingly feral coyote and none of them sounded like the jackal's pleased moans. He panted his own gratification in short oaths, half-barked grunts torn from his tense muzzle when their bodies met with his length buried, deep and throbbing against her folds.
His paws clenched at her raised hips as he bucked hard against her, the hammering strokes kicking Casey's moans up into breathless yelps. She had her fingers spread, claws dug in to hold herself from being driven forward and into the wall, but--"fuck, Dev! Oh--yeah! Give it to me! Give it to your jackal!"
He groaned his reply, raking her sides to jerk her back and into the deep strokes that stuffed every inch of him into her. He could feel the clinging tightness growing more pronounced, knew his knot was starting to swell into her. The need was building to let her have it, to pound into the howling desert bitch until release took him and she was squirming on his throbbing cock while he claimed her.
Whatever demureness Casey ever had wasn't up to the task of stalling him. As his pace slowed and the sharp thrusts forced his cock home she shoved back to meet him. "You gonna tie me?" she gasped, her voice husky; harsh. "Gonna fill your bitch up, Dev?"
He pressed forward, strained until his shaft slid in heavily and the coyote gave a deep grunt with the effort. Words were harder. "Mmf--yeah. Yergonna--" He gave up on even trying to pull out, now. Pushed against her, one heavy grind following another. "You're gonna be a--good bitch--for--me!"
Her head lifted as he took her, nudging higher as the successive, shallow thrusts called attention to the increasingly snug fit. His pace picked up--the coyote knew he was past the point of holding back--and Casey started to jerk, her gasps becoming urgent and high-pitched.
Devin's paws had her gripped tightly when she locked up, but a second later he was tensing, too, his snarl filling the room. And instead of steadying Casey, his grasp was pulling her up and back and against him, holding her bucking hips in place on his cock as he pumped her full of his cum. Pleasure blanked out his mind, the ecstasy of release sating his need with every throb, every spurt of warm coyote cum spilling deep in his jackal.
By the time he could think straight he was on her back, and the jackal's heaving, gasping breaths were beginning to settle down. "God, Case..."
She laughed; the effort took her breath again. "Mmf. Good bitch, then, Devvy?"
"Yeah, you're alright." He mumbled it weakly into her neck.
Her head turned, and she stared at him with one knowing eye. "That wasn't what you just said. I heard 'very good bitch' and also something about being yours."
"I don't remember that."
"You were distracted. So was I." She licked his nose and relaxed. "I guess it's true?"
"We did get those necklaces, after all, right? They don't hand those out to just anyone..."
Most of the Long Tall Sally's cabins, which had not seen the kind of use Casey and Dev put theirs to, were equally suitable for passengers. Just in case, the jackal suggested one further aft in the freighter: "we're back to pretending that we're respectable, remember."
"And this helps?"
If it didn't, it reduced the likelihood they'd be discovered. A taxi pulled up two hours after dawn, with the day tipping forward into glorious, colorful morning. The raccoon who emerged tilted her head at the Long Tall Sally, and cast a glance in the direction of the departing cab.
"Respectable. At least until we're aloft," Casey growled under her breath, then stepped forward. "Hi! I'm Casey; this is Devin."
"Jaime," the raccoon said, shaking the jackal's paw. "You're taking me to Engelta, huh?"
"That's the idea."
"In this thing? I... I really don't understand why dad couldn't have booked a normal ticket." She shook her head. "Well, no, I do. He has this idea I need to be sheltered for some reason. Passenger liners are just... full of temptation, apparently."
"Apparently. This is not, hopefully. No temptation whatsoever!"
"No alcohol? No drugs? No illicit gambling or anything that might corrupt me, I hope. Since you're my chaperones or something..."
"Uh. No, none of those things. I can show you to your quarters. Your belongings are already stowed."
"Thanks." She stepped past Casey, looking up at the Long Tall Sally's engines. They were slung beneath the two wings, which angled down to serve as landing skids, and as Jaime disappeared into shadow her expression became difficult for Dev to read. "Is that an alignment channel for a boosted stardrive? A Luxodyne, maybe..."
"Well..."
"Not now, Dev. We're respectable. The, uh--the engines are fine, miss! They're just fine. Board. Please."
"Yeah... early Luxodyne. On a 254--must be a... 645? 620?"
He couldn't help himself. "Luxodyne 620, yeah. But the alignment channels are pulled from a 354 I found in a scrapyard. So if you check the integrator, it's--
"Dev! Shut up," Casey snapped. "Don't be a coyote."
Jaime stretched up on her tiptoes, examining the leading edge of the engine assembly. "Must have ten or twenty percent better input coherence. Did--did you say integrators? It's an integrated drive? My dad hired a blockade runner?"
"We're not encouraging your bad instincts," Casey said quickly. "Please board. Please board now."
"How fast is this thing? Do you ever run it flat-out? Can I see?"
She shut her eyes. "Fuck. Dev... be my conscience. Can you do that?"
"Yes," Dev decided. Respectable couple or not, they were definitely close enough that he knew exactly how to be the jackal's conscience. "It's very fast, Jaime. We'd love to show you."