I went into the bar as agreed and ordered a beer. It was three hours after I'd called. She looked like she was a decent ways away, so I wasn't sure if she'd make it in time, but I'd sort that out when the time came. I took the drink across to a booth, slipped in, and sipped the foam casually. The place was quieter than I'd hoped, not enough bodies to soak up dialogue, but there was a couple over on the other side of the room having a loud discussion, tears in the girl's eyes, so at least that was a decent distraction.

I checked the time. Still five minutes to go.

Z11 had agreed to meet me, much to my surprise, but specified not at the club. I'm not sure if that's because she didn't approve of it (there are still a few that find the idea of watching someone slowly take their clothes off to music uncouth; each to their own as long as they don't harm anyone for it, I guess), or because she knew something we didn't, and didn't want to be traced back to it. I had a suspicion that it might be the latter. It made me even more nervous.

I tapped my hands on the table in time to the song. Maybe she'd got held up.

The front door opened and I cast a casual eye over. A soorvite with both arms and hands (including all four thumbs) replaced with mechanical ligaments which were starting to go rusty, came in and waved to the bartender, sat down, and started to spill a story which required no small amount of pats on the back and promises that they wouldn't close until he was ready to go back out again. Whoever had made him break down like that was obviously a bitch.

'You've got a new coat.'

I looked up. Z11 slid into the booth, removed a shimmering hood, and let her chestnut hair spill out luxuriously into the open air. It was a gesture intended to get my heart caught in my throat, which for a moment, I'm not going to lie, it did.

'You've still got a flair for the dramatic.'

She smiled. 'Sometimes you need a little drama in your life.'

'Not me. I'm all set.'

'Quite.' She waved to the bartender and the old man behind the counter nodded and began pouring a drink.

'Friend of yours?'

'Saved his life once. Hunting down a middle-man for a branch of the Black Members Resurrectionist groups. He was held with a knife to his throat, so I shot the guy's wrist off.'

'Crack shot, then.'

'They don't breed 'em bad in my job.'

The bartender brought over Z11's drink, and gave her a friendly kiss on the cheek. He looked me over with a shrewd eye before leaving but said nothing. Z11 looked to me in turn and smiled.

'Jealous much?'

'I would be lying if I said no,' I replied.

'You flatter me.'

'And now you can flatter me in turn. The last time we met, when you had me at gunpoint I might add...'

'Dangerous times...'

'You were also a lot more ditzy then.'

Z11 smiled and shook away a bad memory from her head. 'I'd had a tough day. Break up. You understand.'

'Glad to be your rebound.'

'You're not my rebound. I haven't slept with you, yet.'

'Are you planning to suggest it?'

'I would be lying if I said no.'

Now that was a comment which caught me off guard. I looked across the room to see if the couple were still arguing, more to give me an excuse to try and recover than anything else. Thankfully, their discussion had devolved into raised voices and a tight grip on their glasses which would no doubt find their contents slung at the opposing faces before long.

The song changed to something a little louder, something a little easier to speak under without being overheard from across the room.

'Last time we met,' I began again, 'you said you knew what was going on with Carea Euphero. And with Villa.'

'I might have suggested as much.'

'Well now you can tell me,' I said. I locked gazes with her; I didn't want her trying to squirm out without feeling like she'd surrendered. 'We've just received a box full of fingers from kidnapped members of the general public. Now I know plenty of people who would like their box full of fingers...'

'Xayne, you use such crude language sometimes,' she said, winking.

'Crude language for crude times. I want to know everything you know about what Euphero is after, and I want to know it now.'

Z11's smile dropped. She glanced around the room. I refused to look with her.

'Villa used to work as an archaeologist, if you'd believe it,' she said quietly. 'Went around a lot of the planets and outposts on digs, finding artefacts, working out how people died several hundred years ago, that kind of thing. Dull, dry stuff. Anyway, apparently, a while ago he's working on a dig on Androssios I, and he makes a discovery. Not sure what it is, but apparently the company running the gig finds it, and one or two of them actually know a bit about their archaeology and reckon it could be something bordering on priceless.

'So it gets put in the safest place they can find until they can get it safely out of there. They're in the middle of nowhere, you understand, and some of the dunes out there cause havoc with transmissions and electronics and gravs, so they're waiting for the next day to send it off. Anyway, they wake up in the night to hear a commotion, and they discover it's gone. Building ripped apart, artefact gone, and a couple of figures fleeing off into the night.'

'Nobody caught them?'

'Not at this point in time. Investigation goes on but the trail goes cold. After doing a lot of digging, most of it very boring, I'll have you know, the next time it resurfaces is at a bar on Androssios, where a trader called Hourla gives it to a couple of misfits who go around causing trouble. He wants them to give to a friend of his who really needs the money. They bring it back to Celestria and hand it over at a bar to Markro...'

I stiffened.

'Yes, your Markro. He goes and puts it in the vaults, same place as you put that box a while back, because he knows it's safe and secure there.'

'And now Euphero's found out and wants whatever was in the box,' I reason. 'But the methodology doesn't make sense. Why try and get Villa if she already knows what the item is? Why go through the whole thing of having him killed? And the fingers...'

'She's desperate. She's got pressure from up top to get that artefact however she can. And I've already told you; it's not just Euphero.'

'Red Rose?'

'More than them. Multiple parties want this artefact, and they're squabbling over how to get it. Everything's knotted together, Xayne. There's too many limbs to keep track of who's hand is holding what gun to who's head.'

'Why can't we just blow the thing up? Then nobody gets it.'

'You could. And then they'll blow up half a region in retaliation.'

'Who will?'

'All the sides. End up with several regions missing.'

'But what even is it? Who would go through so much for some ancient artefact?'

Z11 closed up. She took a sip of her drink and I knew there wasn't going to be anything I could say to get her to spill more. Must've been in her contract what she was allowed to speak about.

I nodded, reluctantly. 'Fine, I get it. But I still need to get Salis' family safe. With all their other fingers attached if possible.'

Z11 nodded. 'I'll do what I can. We think we know where they're being held. In the meantime, Markro and you need to get somewhere safe. Out of sight. Forgotten by the world.'

Draining the rest of my beer, I thought. Unless I could camp out in the vault itself, I was pretty much screwed from that hiding standpoint. Maybe Markro knew a few policemen who could put us up in a jail cell or two for a dozen years or so, but I doubted it.

I looked at her from under my lids. She stopped halfway through a sip of her drink, paused, then smiled and put it down.

'Fine,' she said, standing up. 'Let's go get him. But no funny business, you hear?'

I couldn't hold back the grin as I collected my coat and rose. 'I thought you were flirting with me earlier. Where'd that go?'

'No funny business with him,' she said. 'You, however...' she snaked a hand around my waist. 'I'm sure we can arrange something.'