“I’m thirsty,” Eva told Vakar. “Come on, let’s scope out the synthesizer options.”
If Vakar found the sudden request strange, he didn’t say anything, didn’t even smell suspicious. He’d probably noticed the mark as well; they hadn’t made him a Wraith for his good looks, cute as he was.
In this case, his skills were better than hers when it came to navigating a crowd. Eva had always made not-so-subtle use of shoulders and elbows to get around people-shaped obstacles. Vakar, on the other hand, had a knack for finding spaces to slip through, for deftly and silently creating spaces where they didn’t exist, for shifting and flowing like he could see the currents of a room and was simply letting them propel him to where he wanted to be.
He could be sneaky in his own way, even if the rest of the time he was almost painfully straightforward. Though this could probably be construed as another way of being goal-oriented, which Vakar absolutely was. She let that thought warm her in certain specific places before dragging her attention back to their task.
Their mark didn’t shift in the time it took them to reach the area, thankfully. The green tag was affixed to the front of a sour-faced vroak wearing small, dark shades over his eyes, his frog-like features glistening from the glow of the nearby light fixtures. His skin was as white as an eggshell, and he had orange bristles sticking out on either side of his flared nostrils like a stiff mustache. According to the information Felsira had provided, his name was Ovikin Tob-Or and his preferred title was Dr.; apparently he would respond well to flattery, so Eva nudged Vakar toward the drink station, plastered on her biggest fake smile, and approached with what she hoped was a sufficiently awed posture.
“Excuse me,” Eva said, “are you Dr. Tob-Or?”
Dr. Tob-Or gave an affirmative grunt, eyeing her suspiciously. “Do I know you?” His voice came across as resonant, yet grating, like a bass note played on a kazoo.
“No, but I’ve heard about your research for the Pod Pals and it sounds absolutely fascinating. I was hoping you’d be willing to discuss it with me in a bit more detail.” Eva rested a hand on her hip, conscious of how much she looked like she’d stepped out of a chandelier. Hopefully it wasn’t too offensive to the vroak’s senses.
“How much detail?” Dr. Tob-Or asked. “What are you getting at?” Did he think she was trying to steal something? Not like he carried his designs on him.
“It seems like such a huge project is all,” Eva said. “Where did you even start?”
Dr. Tob-Or tossed back the contents of the large metal container he was holding and hummed thoughtfully. “Started with taxonomy. Did an extensive study of the Attuned, their habitats and physical structures and abilities. Reviewed the existing literature, observed them in nature, took samples as needed.”
“Wow, that must have been a lot of work.” Eva accepted her own drink from Vakar, who smelled like jasmine with a hint of mint.
“Exhausting, but I’ve never been afraid to push myself to the limits of my abilities.” Dr. Tob-Or swelled a bit, like he was getting warmed up. “The biggest difficulty was the transition from cybernetic enhancement of the existing species to full-replicated synthetic versions.”
“Is that right?” Eva asked, trying not to let her distaste come through her voice. They’d started the experiments on live creatures? Dr. Lucien had mentioned as much, but she had thought the scope changed before it happened. Nasty. She reached up to scratch Mala’s neck, earning a gentle purr.
Dr. Tob-Or shifted his drink container from one white-gloved hand to the other. “Yes, my designs were absolutely perfect, merging technology with biology in a seamless fashion that enhanced the natural abilities of the Attuned creatures.” His tone soured. “But public sentiment was not in favor of the process, so we had to make the shift. So much time and planning, utterly wasted.”
Fucking good, Eva thought. Animals couldn’t consent to cybernetic enhancement, and this didn’t sound like anything remotely benevolent. Out loud she said, “That must have been frustrating for such a prominent scientist as yourself, to have so much work undermined.”
“Deeply discouraging,” he agreed. “Politics are such nonsense. Give people what they need, not what they want.” He gestured vaguely at the rest of the roof. “I thought Lashra would be above placating lesser concerns, the way she and the rest of the government run things here. Extreme situations call for extreme solutions. They have control, but it should be tighter.”
He squeezed his white-gloved hand for emphasis, and Eva nodded sagely while wishing one of his robots would set him on fire.
Her commlink timer went off to alert her that the device had enough exposure to create its psychic imprint of this asshole. Gracias a dios, because she was about ready to accidentally throw her drink into his disgusting face. But she had one more thing to accomplish.
“I’m so pleased I was able to meet you, Dr. Tob-Or,” Eva said, as sweetly as she could manage. Then she lowered her voice, in the hopes that the surveillance devices might not catch it among the rest of the chatter. “I was hoping to speak with Dr. Zafone as well, but I’ve always admired your work.”
At the mention of Josh’s name, Dr. Tob-Or puffed up even more, but aggressively instead of with pride. “Zafone thinks he owns the laboratory. Always reworking everyone’s designs, saying they’re flawed, they could be better. Won’t even let us into his room. He’s hiding something, I tell you. Going to take credit for all our work in the end if we’re not careful.” He let out a belch; he was drunk off his ass, or whatever the vroak equivalent was, his pale skin even slicker with moisture than it had been when they started talking.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Eva said diplomatically. “I hope you get all the credit you deserve.” And she meant it, with the hard edge of a curse.
Dr. Tob-Or’s attention shifted to Mala. “Nice specimen there,” he said. “Could I get a tissue sample?”
Mala stared at him, her hazel eyes losing their color to pupil as she tensed, tail lashing.
“I’m afraid she wouldn’t be entirely cooperative,” Eva said, scratching Mala’s head to reassure her.
“Not a problem,” Dr. Tob-Or replied. “There are plenty of ways to subdue a reluctant subject.”
As if sensing Eva’s rising desire for violence, Vakar managed to extricate her by pulling her backward into the crowd, Dr. Tob-Or’s exceedingly grumpy face disappearing behind a wall of people. Once they were safely away, Eva exhaled and shook herself, startling Mala into giving a brief yowl of displeasure.
“What a comemierda,” she told Vakar. “I hope somebody steps on his junk.”
Vakar wagged his head. “I presume you mean the colloquial meaning of the word.”
“Claro que sí.” She sipped the drink he passed her, a distant cousin of mango juice. Nearby Watchers hadn’t moved from their posts, so either they hadn’t been bothered by Eva’s conversation, or they hadn’t heard it.
Or Damaal was still monitoring Eva to see what she was up to.
A scan of the rooftop showed that Pink already tagged their next target. A distant green dot lured them all the way back across the party, up to a higher tier with a view of the ocean that people on some planets paid inconceivable credits for. They found a kloshian, almost as short as Eva, with his hairlike tendrils flat on the top and flaring slightly sideways, his skin currently a delicate shade of bluish purple that blended well with the same slowly shifting color of the sky. He wore a long white coat over a jumpsuit that hung loosely on his frame, and he smiled at the small crowd of people surrounding him, baring his sharp teeth like a friendly shark in a sea of chum.