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Be Nice

Zormna watched them leave. She read that Jafarr’s amused, unworried expression when those two nasty P.M.s rode off, clenching her damp fists. They could not see how much they had rattled her. None of them did.

Good.

But they had rattled her. That lousy Dural Korad. First he is perverse. Then he makes his hollow threats. And then Tarrn threats. She was glad he could not tell she was a Tarrn. She was glad it was not obvious. It was something she had learned after working in contact with the P.M.s. They thought everyone they hated was a Tarrn—or at least accused them of it. P.M.s used her family name like a swear word where most others are wishing Tarrns the best or using it as a lucky word. It was even surprising to see that Jafarr Zeldar get angry on the Tarrns’ behalf—something she had never presumed before.

But she shook her head. They would lose him. She knew it now. And she honestly wished him the best. But if that undercity guy ever crossed her path again, she would probably catch him again. It was her duty—though it was also a stupid game, one he knew how to play with skill. Why couldn’t he just stay in the Undercity? He has friends he was worrying, right? That recruit Dzhon Niizek, for instance. She had told no one that she knew they were friends. She didn’t believe in guilt by association.

Zormna shook her head again, heading back to Sandi’s. This was enough for now. She would deal with it all later.

She walked back into the restaurant, looking to see if her drink was still on the table.

It wasn’t. And her table was now occupied with another group.

Some people stared at her. Others whispered. Her fellow officers drifted back in, heading toward another group to gossip with. Many eyes were on her.

Ignoring it all, Zormna walked to the bar and nodded to the hostess there. “Can I get a pastry cream to go?”

Grinning, the hostess nodded, fetching one.

Sandi, the more famous waitress there, leaned against the side of the bar and said, “You know, I know it is not my business and I usually stay out of sides… but, uh, could you be a little nicer to Jafarr?”

Zormna blinked at her. “What? You know him?”

Chuckling while raising her eyebrows, Sandi smirked at her. Of course Sandi knew him. The restaurant was nicknamed Sandi’s because though she was just a waitress, she knew the names of everyone who walked into that establishment, and what they preferred to order. It was actually called Gangardek Zep.

“He’s a big fan of citric tsik, just like you. And kalgar when he is here with his friends,” Sandi said. She eyed Zormna knowing she had seen Zormna come to the restaurant with Dzhon.

Sighing, Zormna shook her head. “He’s a rebel, Sandi. I have my duty.”

Sandi nodded sadly. “I know. But can you promise to keep your duty outside this establishment?”

Closing her eyes, Zormna cringed. “Only if he stays away from me.”

“Scrapes…” Sandi muttered. “You two really do make sparks.” And she walked away.

The other waitress handed over the pastry puff. She looked nervous.

Zormna paid for it, and walked out.

When she got onto her flight scooter and pulled on her helmet, she heard a general call into her com.

<<You’re not going to believe this, but that fugitive Jafarr Zeldar is on the loose again. The P.M.s transporting him to ISIC just lost him in the upward tunnel bends. Who is on duty who wants to fetch him—if they can?>>

Shaking her head, adjusting her chin strap, Zormna thought to herself, it was a shame she was not going in that direction.

 

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Publication Date: 03-03-2018

All Rights Reserved

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