Elemorts

Chapter XV - Ruffling Feathers

The music was overpowering, almost as if being played with the express intention of discouraging conversation among the guests. People danced and grooved to the jazzy tune, drinks in hand, as the multicolored flashing lights swept over them.

The pool in the center of the open-air area reflected the lights over its calm surface, making for an eerie display. A ramp floated down its middle, upon which a fashion show of sorts was going on, with models strutting along in ludicrous fancy outfits by some designer named Fotranch or something. Nobody seemed to pay much attention to it except a few odd groups here and there, whispering and giggling at each other as they looked on in amusement.

The evening sky was studded with twinkling stars, along with a sliver of the smooth and blue Ahore and half of the dappled Raimyor. Seeing the moons of Karomoz always made Zablaron wonder why the Karomozians never bothered to colonize them — it would make sense to start with them than with planets that didn't belong to them. A few of the nearby planets gleamed faintly in blurred blues and greens.

They sat inconspicuously in one corner of the pool party, at a wooden table, watching the guests engage in the merriment. Florinok took note of the notable guests. The Karomozian Minister of Health, a morbidly obese woman, sat munching at a chicken bone, accompanied by a few other people at a table near the boundary hedges. A decorated, high-ranking official of the Karomozian military stood tall and stiff near the pool as he sipped from his drink and surveyed the partygoers. And then there was Jod Quinn, the owner of Quinn Furnishings, lying in one of the floatable seats in the pool — he was one of the few people paying attention to the fashion show. Perfect, Florinok thought, as she couldn't help but smile.

"Can I ask you a question?" Zablaron asked as he set his lychee smoothie down. Florinok turned to him abruptly. He wore a maroon tuxedo over a royal-purple waistcoat, a white dress shirt, and black trousers.

"I'm sorry? Did you say something?" she asked as she clutched at her periwinkle pearl necklace. She wore a lime, one-shoulder evening dress with a glittery periwinkle skirt. Her hair was let loose but held up at the back of her head by a broad, lime barrette clip.

Zablaron leaned over. "Can I ask you something?" he asked again, this time loudly.

"Oh." Florinok shrugged. "Sure."

"Where does the Head of Drug Design get the skills to infiltrate a top-secret base of operations?" Zablaron asked inquisitively.

Florinok shrugged. "In the streets."

"In the streets?" Zablaron raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, I grew up with this bunch of orphan kids. We used to steal stuff for us all the time. I was the best one. It's how I got into Curavez Pharmaceuticals."

"Oh? You stole the position of Head of Drug Design?"

Florinok giggled. "Pretty much. You see, my friends got really sick one time, and we had no money to buy medicines. So, I set up shop near a pharmacy and kept track of the deliveries. Then, when they arrived, I would sneak over and steal the medicines."

"Just like that?" Zablaron asked, surprised.

"Oh, sometimes it would be as simple as walking by an unattended cart and grabbing a handful of the drugs. Other times, I would get one of the other kids to fall over and pretend they were hurt as a distraction. Most of them were atrocious actors, but it still worked for me. Then I started taking empty boxes to the pharmacy itself and replaced them with new ones."

"OK," Zablaron said uncertainly. "But how did that get you your job?"

"I went a little overboard." Florinok tittered. "I began lifting drugs in advance... for all kinds of illnesses. It got so bad that Lavandora Myrtle, the CEO, herself, had to visit that particular pharmacy. I was caught and brought to her."