*Ding!*
The alert in the high-speed elevator rang softly upon reaching the top.
"Welcome to Vimana club," another female's voice spoke inside the elevator as the smooth sound of elevator's pristine, polished metal doors slid apart in front of a red-carpeted corridor with floor-to-ceiling glass windows.
The owners of the Durgema spared no expense with the pricey anti-condensation windows. Despite the warm lobby, no droplets of water formed from the chilly atmosphere outside.
Large paintings decked the supporting pylons of the windows on the penthouse club high above the city.
The unique spires of several mega skyscrapers among the thick and puffy cumulus clouds greeted my sight as I walked out. Some spires bore the logos of the megacorporations. I could see nothing of the city below the white, hazy cover of clouds.
One could almost hear the whistling of the strong wind outside moving the cumulus clouds past.
A well-dressed female Durgian concierge stood at the side, dressed in the traditional clothing of their people. She wore a loosely draped outer vermillion long-sleeved garment over her white collarless shirt.
A yellow aurum belt of dangling Durgian mystic symbols clinched her waist, holding the garments together. Her long hair coiffed neatly into a neat bun.
"Welcome, Temari of Deridia." she bowed slightly with her hands together and then straightened her back.
With a graceful wave of one hand, she directed me towards the lush club lobby with the private rooms for check in at the back.
The Durgian snapped her manicured fingers at a staff at the concierge desk on the side while we continued walking towards the room.
"We have a visitor waiting for you," she informed me.
As expected, I knew the usual pest of an old acquaintance will be waiting, once Rong's card scanned on entry.
Some guests sat on the lush leather sofas provided in the lobby, engaged with their tablets or small talk, while mobile table bots moved around, delivering ordered drinks and snacks.
Another expected large fountain stood in the middle, providing the sound of musical splashing water.
The concierge brought me to the corner where their biggest exclusive check in room was. The door slid open, revealing the visitor sitting on the plush sofa, made of some furry creature's skin. I could still smell the mild after-scent of tanning liquids used to cure the skin.
Dressed in the same style of loose drapes as the concierge but in a shade of purple and a brooch to pin the sides down, to denote the Durgian elite status, Mahara was one heck of a colourful sight.
She dyed her hair a ridiculous shade of bright red to hide the greying hairs. A pair of large yellowish dangling earrings, with precious gem inlays, hung on her ears, pulling the lobes down, coupled with a pair of ear cuffs.
Around her neck was a thick shiny yellow gold. Each finger wore a ring of a different precious gem colour.
Several aurum bangles stacked on her wrists and forehand resembled armour, instead of decorative accessories.
That old witch swirled the glass flute of Durgian moonshine with her tattooed fingers with her finger tips dyed red, while her eyes followed me once I entered the room.
Mahara's musky perfume, extracted from the pheromone of a rare animal, filled the room with a suffocating fragrance.
Each move came with a slight jingling and clanging of her bangles.
Who is that old Durgian hoping to attract with her overstretched face which she hoped to hide those wrinkles?
I never enjoyed dealing with Mahara, but offending her was the last thing I wanted to do. She held majority shares in The Durgema, making her the major owner.
"If there is nothing else, my lady…," the concierge bowed to Mahara, who waved her off with a hand disdainfully, without a word.
The door slid shut.
"Sound barrier," Mahara ordered.
"Sound barrier activated," the room's computer replied after securing the room in a sound proof forcefield.
The optical implant in my eyes scanned the room for any hidden bugs, but found none.
One never take chances.
"Deridian with those sickly looking lenses this time, the last time, a Haolean with that awful skin dye," she grumbled and sipped from her glass flute.
I plonked down on the arm-chair opposite the sofa and said nothing about her opening shots.
Mahara was an old cunning shrew with her long lifespan, only half of Rong's. Not a female Durgian to trifle with, even if she spewed snide remarks from her mouth like a verbal diarrhea.
Her astute and strong telepathic mind reading skills, which the top Durgian bosses innately possessed, made it uneasy for me to deal with her.
Durgians also ran some of the most sophisticated information networks in the galactic quadrant because of the same skills. No one knew the biological mechanisms which allowed them to read minds.
"But you can never hide that same scent and aura of death on your body," Mahara crunched her nose. "Both you and Rong."
Same old complaint as always.
Still, Rong somewhat trusted her with discretion, and my previous dealings with her had no trouble.
I sighed. Less said is more with this Durgian.
"I gave you 7 rotations of stay in The Durgema with a view to extension," Mahara added. "There's a note about you cleared for access to his excellency Imperium Chancellor Rong's personal account. Enough to cover 30 rotations for the entire orbital year."
Less if possible, but I always planned for more days, just in case.
One thing bothered me. Why did old Rong do that? He sponsored none of my trips before. Why now? Or is it an order from someone else?
"Who authorised this?" I asked.
"Finally decided to open your mouth? Authorisation came from Rong himself," she sneered with an uppity tone. "Condition is if you use the Imperium Star suite. Should you ask, he instructed me to say this to you… Space Punk 1337."
The Durgians kept a strict track of who paid what.
No mistake. That's old Rong. He knew my old call sign and 1337 was his old call sign. The revelation didn't make me happy at all.
Rong allowed me to use the usual diplomat-level Imperium Star suite in The Durgema at his expense.
Both Rong and I used that code when situations are afoot.
"We also intercepted an Iktomin spider bot when you entered. Seems you are a target," Mahara said. "Record projection 817."
A projector in the room displayed a holographic recording of a tiny spider-like bot crawling from under the taxi hovercraft and making its way after me.
Damn spider bots are troublesome spy camera bots that can hitch a ride to follow their targets. The bots recorded everything. No wonder I felt being watched.
But why me? I never crossed paths with an Iktomin. Neither am I a captive actor of theirs.
"Anything odd happened when you landed?"
"A bunch of noisy Velesian student—"
Mahara rolled her eyes. "Nothing new there. What else?"
"A flesh slave tried to pickpocket me. Then the Perunian battle fortress landing, which made us enter the garage mall, and the odd approach by a Perunian to inspect an uninteresting space rock."
"Space rock?"
Her expression probably looked similar to my expression when the Perunian asked if I could identify the rock.
Mahara sat up straight and drank a bit from the flute. "Space rock… from where?"
"Client is allegedly Inti and got hold of it."
Mahara immediately tapped on her communicator in the form of the bejewelled brooch, and I stopped talking.
"Warn all our Deridian traders and those with cybernetic implants in Eden of a possible Iktomin danger. Initiate Code Viman," she instructed the receiver and then paused to stare at me.
"Also, where were you in the mall and at what time point?"
I recounted the place and time stated on the clocks in the mall, which she promptly relayed to whoever was on the other line.
My best guess was Mahara pulling surveillance records from the mall, probably to identify the Perunian.
"But what the heck is going on?" I asked.
"You will not like the answer."
Then again, I never liked answers.