Free SLAM by Tash McAdam

career.
    She blows air out through her
nose, impressed despite herself, and leans her hip against a
convenient table. Well, I hope you’re
willing to put those skills to use for us. We’d stand a better
chance with anyone who knows the area, so someone with your talents
would be a gift from Google.
    “So, are you just setting us up with our digs,
or are you sticking around to help us out?” The question isn’t a
challenge. The mission brief they received merely said that one of
Kion’s contacts would pick them up and help them find their feet.
Serena fully expected that Leaf would leave them to it, sooner or
later, but he doesn’t seem to be in a hurry. At the workstation,
Abial is typing away rapidly – chatting to base, no doubt. Serena
continues to ignore her, more concerned with Leaf for the moment
than what base has to say.
    After all, for all intents and purposes,
they’re now on their own. Base can’t help them anymore. Leaf might,
though. And they need all the help they can get.
    “Well, I’ll stick aroun’, show ya where the
boys’ve been, pick up stuff if ya need it. But I’m not lookin’ to
get in no fights. This body were made for lovin’, not wrestlin’.”
He unfurls a slow smile at her and lifts his eyebrows
suggestively.
    She shoots him a long, cold stare
until he deflates. Seriously, kid? You
have a lot to learn if you think a smile’s gonna get you in my
shock suit. Besides, I bet you’d wet yourself if I offered to take
you up on that.
    “We’re here on business. We’ll take whatever
help we can get, but keep your eyebrows and everything else to
yourself. Deal?”
    He snorts a laugh and hops up on a table,
propping his elbows on his knees and tugging his earlobe
absent-mindedly. “Alright, Tiger. Sheathe them claws. I ain’t a
twist. Whaddya need?”
    Abial looks up from the datapad and brushes
her hair out of her eyes, the darkened room partially obscuring the
details of her features. For a minute, she looks like a stranger to
Serena, rather than one of the most familiar faces in her life.
It’s as though something inside Abial has changed – hardened,
perhaps – and the shadows are highlighting the difference. But the
moment breaks when she speaks.
    “We need food and water, for sure. Weapons if
you can get ‘em. It’d be good to get some different clothes. We
might need disguises, but that depends on what kind of plan we come
up with. Come and look at this map and show us what’s been going
on.”
    Her tone brooks no argument, and Leaf slides
off the table gracefully. He might not be a fighter, but he’s got
the body and poise of a dancer, with lean muscles visible under his
well-cut suit, and surprisingly solid pectorals for his slender
frame.
    Serena shifts position so she can see better,
too. Abial clicks the projector on, and with a few gestures, has a
holographic bird’s-eye view of the city floating in the air. Around
Leaf’s waist. He smirks and moves a little, then points to a spot
directly in front of his hips.
    “Tallest buildin’ in the city.” He snickers,
but Abial clears her throat, obviously not amused, and he backs up
until he’s no longer surrounded by the hologram.
    Serena stifles a grin, more entertained by the
flirty banter when it’s not directed at her.
    “Right, well. Can I mark this? Might be
easier.”
    Abial offers him a flat rectangular box, and
he dips his index finger into it, pressing the pad firmly against
the small, clear disc that sparkles there. Now, when he gestures
over the map, a line will follow in the wake of his finger. He taps
his finger and thumb together, obviously familiar with the device,
then starts drawing yellow Xs on the map. Serena shuffles closer
and looks on with interest, feeling her features settling into a
focused expression, teeth worrying at her bottom lip as she
concentrates.
    We’re in a difficult situation,
any intel we can gather now might be the difference between life
and death , she reminds herself.