Canon Rephrasing
I found myself back in the shuttleport. The grime and soil of a hundred worlds marred every surface, no matter how diligent the cleaning robots were. When I was here last it didn’t bother me. Now it was a weight on the soul I no longer possessed. Only the knowledge that I was close to getting it back allowed me to move forward.
I remembered the address of the man who was supposed to buy my bauble. Decades of training weren’t so easily forgotten as all that. I made my way through the streets, ignoring as unimportant the stares my ‘retro’ clothes were gathering. One of the most beautiful women in the galaxy can ignore a lot and be forgiven doing so, after all. I also ignored the rain, for now. Before too much longer I would want to do something about it, but for now I had an appointment to keep.
Getting into his garage was simplicity itself. A winsome smile to the garage attendant, a kiss on his cheek and he’d nearly fallen over himself to let me in. By the time I was ready to leave, he’d be conveniently dead.
The canopy of the man’s armored groundcar proved no barrier to an accomplished assassin and I settled in to wait. He was readily pliant when I told him my real name. The look of utter terror was something of a relief, compared to the blank ‘okay…’ looks I got in the village.
With his body in the storage compartment, I checked the time and headed to the shopping area. I wanted to replace the shimmersilk. The dead man in storage had told me this Phillip Marlowe character was just that-one of those hopeless romantics who grew up on the stories of pre-space investigators and the occasional re-introduction of the style in some of the trashier holovids. I also wanted something for the downpour.
I walked into the couturier in the twentieth century’s finest, and walked out in mine. I left the designer drooling over the incredibly ‘retro’ look and stepped out into the rain in my favorite colors - naked shimmersilk and a green oiled daycoat. One last check of the time and I headed down into the seedier part of downtown.
I turned on the holograms just outside his building. I took a breath and touched the hard bump of my son, then stepped inside.
He stopped moving when he saw me, his eyes roaming up and down my perfect figure. I let him get an eyeful or two before speaking. “May I come in?”
“You’re already in.” Yes, he was definitely an aficionado of the genre. Judging by his decaying state, I’d guess he’d had at least a century of perfecting his one-liner and drily witty responses.
I stepped forward and the door slid shut behind me. As I moved, I let the daycoat part, and his eyes snapped to the slight gap that hinted at my body. Yes, I mentally smiled. He’s lost and we both know it.
“May I sit down?” I asked. The small room didn’t have a lot of furniture - two chairs and a window. If he had been half as good as his ex-client made him out to be, he’d have had to have hit some hard times to be running out of juice. Immortality was the word of the day, technologically speaking.
Well, to be honest, that only counted for cyborgs, robots and other devices. Humans still died of old age.
He waved his hand and I sat in the chair, his eyes glued to me as I moved. His voicebox ground briefly - it was intended to sound like he was clearing his throat but that would only be true if he hadn’t slipped a gear in the middle of it. “What is it you want?” he asked.
“I was told you might be able to help me. I’m looking for a bauble.”
He coughed, and his voice deteriorated a little more. He was worn out and dying faster by the minute. If he didn’t give me precisely what I wanted, he’d be dead in ten minutes or less. “I’m afraid you’ve been misinformed,” he said. “I deal in trade goods.”
He was a fence, he was saying. Nothing I hadn’t known before I walked in.
“It’s very important to me. It’s worthless to anybody else, but it’s very important to me. It’s a necklace.” I wasn’t going to tell him it held my soul unless there was no other way to get it from him without violence.
“I’d like to help you but I’m not what you think I am.” A blatant lie. My disdain crept into my voice.
“I know what you are.” I looked him over as I said it and decided now was a good time to drop the pretense. I took my cigarette case out of the pocket of the day coat, opened it up and picked one. I held it between my lips and looked at him. If he was the devotee of old-time noir I knew him to be, he’d offer to light it for me.
I arched my eyebrow at him when he made no such offer. Instead he said, “No, I don’t mind if you smoke.”
How rude. I had to get my zippo out and light it myself. As the flame danced over the end I said, “I was told that sometimes you manage private investigations. This necklace was taken from me. I need it back. I’ve followed it across five worlds.” I made eye contact with him. “I’ll do anything to get it back. You understand me, don’t you?”
His stillness told me that he got the point. He knew me. He shook his head, pretending otherwise. I took a drag on the cigarette and eyed him sideways. “Does the name Kilrenko mean anything to you?” I knew he had to know the name, but he played dumb.
“Never heard it before,” he said. I decided to play dirty. I was going to get it back, and no two-bit fence was going to stop me.
He took out a self-destructive box. “I’m the only one who can open this. If anyone else tries-“ he said. I nodded. The contents of the box would be destroyed if I tried. He opened it.
There it was. My soul. I couldn’t hide the joy at finding it again after so long, and he glanced away from the naked emotion on my face. “Thank you,” I whispered.
He shook his head. “If you take them, I’ll die,” he said as he tapped his forehead. “I was hoping to have those beads wiped and installed. They’re not a perfect match, but-“
I had to cut him off. “They’ll never work for you. Not for you, not for anyone. They won’t work for anyone but me.” If he wiped those, I’d be lost. Worse than without my soul, lost without hope of recovering it.
“So I discovered.” He had to have had someone run a non-fatal diagnostic on it. “I was hoping to sell them instead. I’m waiting for my buyer.”
“He isn’t coming,” I told him. He didn’t ask further.
After a long moment he asked instead, “So what do we do now?”
I studied him and he looked at me in return. “If I had the resources, I’d pay you. Instead, I can offer you only my gratitude. For whatever it’s worth.”
“It’s worth my life,” he responded immediately. He was quick. I had to admire that, and a smile worked its way onto my lips. I nodded, accepting his price.
He opened the box carefully, wary that I’d double-cross him. If he’d been less forthcoming, I might have. But he was a gentleman about it all, and giving it back to me willingly. I stood up from the chair and he stiffened just in case. For the moment, he was furniture. My soul was here, within my grasp. I picked up the necklace and fastened it around my neck. They grew warm on my skin as the connection was made.
Oh, stars above… I had my soul back. The processors came online immediately and checked and counter-signed with my onboard cybersystems. Yes. I was Kilrenko and this was my soul. At last. I opened eyes I wasn’t aware I’d closed. Datastreams filled the periphery of my vision as I looked at him. He was going to be dead soon. Not by my hand, but he was dying. I pitied him, just a little and only for a moment. I decided to give him a proper Film Noir reward.
I put my finger under his chin and lifted it so his gaze met mine. “I will never forget you,” I whispered as I closed the distance between our lips and kissed him. Sixteen toxins to kill him flashed through automatic subroutines and were ignored. He’d earned his life.
Without a word, I picked up my coat and left. I knew that however long he lived, he’d remember this meeting too.
I returned to the groundcar and headed back for the spaceport. I had a wormhole to find and a village to return to.
The red text was added for H&M flavor. The original story (Bauble) is from the detective's point of view. This retelling of the tale is from Kilrenko's. Portions of the tale were withheld to give you incentive to get your own copy.
I remembered the address of the man who was supposed to buy my bauble. Decades of training weren’t so easily forgotten as all that. I made my way through the streets, ignoring as unimportant the stares my ‘retro’ clothes were gathering. One of the most beautiful women in the galaxy can ignore a lot and be forgiven doing so, after all. I also ignored the rain, for now. Before too much longer I would want to do something about it, but for now I had an appointment to keep.
Getting into his garage was simplicity itself. A winsome smile to the garage attendant, a kiss on his cheek and he’d nearly fallen over himself to let me in. By the time I was ready to leave, he’d be conveniently dead.
The canopy of the man’s armored groundcar proved no barrier to an accomplished assassin and I settled in to wait. He was readily pliant when I told him my real name. The look of utter terror was something of a relief, compared to the blank ‘okay…’ looks I got in the village.
With his body in the storage compartment, I checked the time and headed to the shopping area. I wanted to replace the shimmersilk. The dead man in storage had told me this Phillip Marlowe character was just that-one of those hopeless romantics who grew up on the stories of pre-space investigators and the occasional re-introduction of the style in some of the trashier holovids. I also wanted something for the downpour.
I walked into the couturier in the twentieth century’s finest, and walked out in mine. I left the designer drooling over the incredibly ‘retro’ look and stepped out into the rain in my favorite colors - naked shimmersilk and a green oiled daycoat. One last check of the time and I headed down into the seedier part of downtown.
I turned on the holograms just outside his building. I took a breath and touched the hard bump of my son, then stepped inside.
He stopped moving when he saw me, his eyes roaming up and down my perfect figure. I let him get an eyeful or two before speaking. “May I come in?”
“You’re already in.” Yes, he was definitely an aficionado of the genre. Judging by his decaying state, I’d guess he’d had at least a century of perfecting his one-liner and drily witty responses.
I stepped forward and the door slid shut behind me. As I moved, I let the daycoat part, and his eyes snapped to the slight gap that hinted at my body. Yes, I mentally smiled. He’s lost and we both know it.
“May I sit down?” I asked. The small room didn’t have a lot of furniture - two chairs and a window. If he had been half as good as his ex-client made him out to be, he’d have had to have hit some hard times to be running out of juice. Immortality was the word of the day, technologically speaking.
Well, to be honest, that only counted for cyborgs, robots and other devices. Humans still died of old age.
He waved his hand and I sat in the chair, his eyes glued to me as I moved. His voicebox ground briefly - it was intended to sound like he was clearing his throat but that would only be true if he hadn’t slipped a gear in the middle of it. “What is it you want?” he asked.
“I was told you might be able to help me. I’m looking for a bauble.”
He coughed, and his voice deteriorated a little more. He was worn out and dying faster by the minute. If he didn’t give me precisely what I wanted, he’d be dead in ten minutes or less. “I’m afraid you’ve been misinformed,” he said. “I deal in trade goods.”
He was a fence, he was saying. Nothing I hadn’t known before I walked in.
“It’s very important to me. It’s worthless to anybody else, but it’s very important to me. It’s a necklace.” I wasn’t going to tell him it held my soul unless there was no other way to get it from him without violence.
“I’d like to help you but I’m not what you think I am.” A blatant lie. My disdain crept into my voice.
“I know what you are.” I looked him over as I said it and decided now was a good time to drop the pretense. I took my cigarette case out of the pocket of the day coat, opened it up and picked one. I held it between my lips and looked at him. If he was the devotee of old-time noir I knew him to be, he’d offer to light it for me.
I arched my eyebrow at him when he made no such offer. Instead he said, “No, I don’t mind if you smoke.”
How rude. I had to get my zippo out and light it myself. As the flame danced over the end I said, “I was told that sometimes you manage private investigations. This necklace was taken from me. I need it back. I’ve followed it across five worlds.” I made eye contact with him. “I’ll do anything to get it back. You understand me, don’t you?”
His stillness told me that he got the point. He knew me. He shook his head, pretending otherwise. I took a drag on the cigarette and eyed him sideways. “Does the name Kilrenko mean anything to you?” I knew he had to know the name, but he played dumb.
“Never heard it before,” he said. I decided to play dirty. I was going to get it back, and no two-bit fence was going to stop me.
He took out a self-destructive box. “I’m the only one who can open this. If anyone else tries-“ he said. I nodded. The contents of the box would be destroyed if I tried. He opened it.
There it was. My soul. I couldn’t hide the joy at finding it again after so long, and he glanced away from the naked emotion on my face. “Thank you,” I whispered.
He shook his head. “If you take them, I’ll die,” he said as he tapped his forehead. “I was hoping to have those beads wiped and installed. They’re not a perfect match, but-“
I had to cut him off. “They’ll never work for you. Not for you, not for anyone. They won’t work for anyone but me.” If he wiped those, I’d be lost. Worse than without my soul, lost without hope of recovering it.
“So I discovered.” He had to have had someone run a non-fatal diagnostic on it. “I was hoping to sell them instead. I’m waiting for my buyer.”
“He isn’t coming,” I told him. He didn’t ask further.
After a long moment he asked instead, “So what do we do now?”
I studied him and he looked at me in return. “If I had the resources, I’d pay you. Instead, I can offer you only my gratitude. For whatever it’s worth.”
“It’s worth my life,” he responded immediately. He was quick. I had to admire that, and a smile worked its way onto my lips. I nodded, accepting his price.
He opened the box carefully, wary that I’d double-cross him. If he’d been less forthcoming, I might have. But he was a gentleman about it all, and giving it back to me willingly. I stood up from the chair and he stiffened just in case. For the moment, he was furniture. My soul was here, within my grasp. I picked up the necklace and fastened it around my neck. They grew warm on my skin as the connection was made.
Oh, stars above… I had my soul back. The processors came online immediately and checked and counter-signed with my onboard cybersystems. Yes. I was Kilrenko and this was my soul. At last. I opened eyes I wasn’t aware I’d closed. Datastreams filled the periphery of my vision as I looked at him. He was going to be dead soon. Not by my hand, but he was dying. I pitied him, just a little and only for a moment. I decided to give him a proper Film Noir reward.
I put my finger under his chin and lifted it so his gaze met mine. “I will never forget you,” I whispered as I closed the distance between our lips and kissed him. Sixteen toxins to kill him flashed through automatic subroutines and were ignored. He’d earned his life.
Without a word, I picked up my coat and left. I knew that however long he lived, he’d remember this meeting too.
I returned to the groundcar and headed back for the spaceport. I had a wormhole to find and a village to return to.
The red text was added for H&M flavor. The original story (Bauble) is from the detective's point of view. This retelling of the tale is from Kilrenko's. Portions of the tale were withheld to give you incentive to get your own copy.