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“Oh, yes. We only use the finest ingredients. Do either of you have any allergies?” she asks patiently, looking between us.
Kallista opens her mouth. I know she’s about to say no, but I interject. “No dairy,” I add quickly, and Kallista’s mouth curves upward in a knowing smirk. “But I think we’re good otherwise.”
“Excellent. I’ll make a note for the chef. Again, would either of you like anything to drink?”
“Just a green tea for me,” I say.
Kallista points to something called a dragonfruit whisper, whatever the hell that is, and the hologram nods with another uncanny smile that gives me goosebumps. Shootouts with Denorran warriors I can handle. Weird holograms serving uncanny valley looks? Pass.
“Excellent! I will get that for you right away. And for you, sir?”
The hologram stares at me with glassy, soulless eyes until I shake my head no.
Yeah. This planet is not for me. Neon cities sprawl every inch of the planet, even in the supposed countryside, and real people are now being replaced by holograms. It’s no wonder people have been rioting and protesting lately; their jobs are being taken by holograms, and the rich just keep on getting richer. Tale as old as time, even lightyears away from the Milky Way.
But for now, as I look down at Kallista wriggling in her seat with excitement, I don’t care about any of that. At least for the moment, things seem good. She’s happy, and that’s enough for me.
Seconds later, a tray holding a tall glass filled with frothy pink and white foam slides across the counter. It even has a little umbrella in it, which seems to make Kallista extra excited. She points it out to me and lets out another giggle. I can’t get enough of that sound.
“This place is ridiculous,” she murmurs. “But I like it.”
“It’s ridiculous and open, so it works,” I say, and point to her drink. “What is that, anyway? Alcohol?”
Kallista shakes her head before taking a sip through the fat pink straw. “Mm-mm. I don’t drink. This is just coconut milk and dragonfruit.”
Dragonfruit is prohibitively expensive on this damn planet, thanks to import fees. They all come from a tropical world called Mercadia, a planet of endless summer and resorts only the rich and famous can afford. I visited exactly once with the team, then never again. We made good money, but not Mercadia money.
I lift an eyebrow. “Wait, but you had a beer on Nocturne. I saw you take a sip.”
“I did. But I didn’t swallow it. It’s to keep up appearances,” she says with a small shrug. Yet she requested a closed container anyway. She sticks to her principles. I can respect that.
I lean against the counter on my elbows. “Huh.”
After a couple minutes of near silence, save for the sirens of emergency vehicles blaring in the distance, Kallista finishes off her drink and pushes it aside. “Can I ask you something?”
I nod. Her questions don’t bother me. In fact, I might even like that she’s asking me about my life. No one else ever does. “Sure. Ask away.”
Before she can ask me her question, the hologram pops up, all smiles and soulless eyes again. “Have you two had enough time to look over our expansive menu? Would you like to hear about our specials?”
I wave a hand at the hologram and sigh. “No specials. Just an order of the spare rib dumplings, and she wants the tom yum soup with dumplings.”
Kallista straightens as the hologram blinks out of existence. “I will never get used to that. When did those holograms become the norm, anyway?”
“About six months ago,” I say. “Things have been getting worse and worse on this rock of a planet. Anyway, what did you want to ask me?”
Looking over at her, I notice she’s got some goosebumps pebbling on her upper arms. I wonder where her hoodie is, then realize she left it back in the jammer. Instinctively, I shrug out of my leather jacket and put it over her shoulders. She doesn’t argue, but her body stiffens.
Her gaze remains on her now-empty glass as she murmurs, “Why did you turn to bounty hunting?”
The way she saysturn tomakes me hang my head in shame. Like it’s a profession no one would pick up voluntarily, something a person would resort to in order to make ends meet. I guess in a way, she’s right. I was out of options.
“A story for another time, perhaps,” I say, and before she can whine about my evasiveness, I put my palm on the top of her head and stroke her soft hair.
She laughs, and my heart twists again. It’s not a good thing to have these sorts of feelings for her. We can’t date. For one thing, if we were caught, the tabloids would skewer her. And two, if we were caught, Margot and Lydia woulddefinitelyskewer her.
Suddenly, a feminine voice coos from behind us: “Well, well. Look who’s slumming it downtown.”
Kallista snarls and whips around, and I turn to see who’s stupid enough to pick a fight with her. A familiar woman in her mid-twenties stands in front of us with an entourage six people strong She’s wearing a short cream dress that barely covers her upper thighs, and her long, pink hair floats down past her perky breasts.
