The operator waited a fraction of a second until the woman was away from the building, suspended in time for the brief moment before gravity took hold, and then pressed the trigger of the Matter Scoop. Instantly, a shimmering, sky-blue sphere formed in the air, encompassing the woman in mid-air for a fraction of a fraction of a second. Then sphere and woman alike vanished as easily as if they had never been there in the first place.
She was running before the computer dinged its customary notification: Warning: Organic Material Detected in Scoop Sphere.
Her partner was on her side, one elbow under her, struggling to catch her breath. “Paleo-Christ, Lu. How do you make getting scooped look good?” said the operator, who was called Asta. Not Astra, as she took pains to remind people. Luna and Astra. That was a bad video-novel romance title. Chase and Venn – now that was a pair of names you could trust, particularly if you were a planetary overseer or CEO or the chair of some minor system council who happened to be in the market for some (shall we say) para-legitimate objet d’art of some primitive civilisation. That the civilisation was no longer using said objects was generally assumed on an “ask no questions, tell no lies” basis.
Luna did make “struggling to regain motor function after being matter scooped” work, somehow. It was infuriating to Asta, who had practiced facial expressions in the mirror but had never quite got the hang of them and decided to give up.
“Get your mind out’f the gutter and get me to the medic,” slurred Luna. Asta, instantly flustered, grabbed her wrist and pulled hard, shouldering the burden of Luna’s weight and lifting her to her feet.
The “medic”, so-called, was a modified military construct with a long, spindly arm and an array of evil-looking tools at the end of it. It was meant to make the remains of soldiers presentable for their families, which was cheaper than saving their lives and good for morale. The empire always needed more martyrs.
Lying down on the gurney, Luna grabbed Asta’s hand.
“The box! Check it!” she hissed. Asta did, unhooking it from Luna’s belt and cracking open the seal with a few expert movements of her fingertips. Inside, nestled in black impact foam, lay a gold-glowing pendant set with the largest ruby Asta had ever seen.”
“Hell’s teeth!” Asta murmured. “It’s a dragon’s eye!”
“It’s a knick-knack now,” said Luna as the lanky medic-arm sprayed synthiskin over its handiwork and finished her off with a painkiller shot. She reached over and snatched the pendant off the foam, and held it aloft so it caught the light better. “But what a knick-knack! We eat tonight, I tell you what. Start calling the councillor.”

Their client, the councillor for agriculture from the planet Stot, was a handsome man with a string of scandals behind him and what Luna described as an “overburdened” bank account. He wanted their precious cargo as a present for a woman, who according to the “ask no questions” policy, was presumably his wife. Contacting him took three days, at the end of which Luna was more or less recovered from her stint in recovery, her blood loss topped up with an isotonic cocktail from the Medic’s private reserve.
His video feed, like always, was all black, though Luna and Asta as dedicated consumers of the gossip channels had seen picto’s of him before, usually leaving bars, hotels or, in one memorable instance, a helicopter, in the company of various women. But he had never seen them.
“Hello?” he said. “Are you there?” His voice was rather more hushed than usual. He was normally all confidence, the kind of voice that you can hear a swagger in.
“Reading you loud and clear, Councillor,” said Asta into her headset mic, turning up the volume exactly ten percent. “We have your gift here, and ready to deliver. Can you confirm payment?”
There was a rustling sound on the other end, then the councillor cleared his throat and muttered: “Actually, I don’t think I will be able to go forward with this purchase. At this time.” Hushed words could be heard, a whispering woman’s voice. A clunk from the speakers indicated he had put his communicator down. I’m telling them now, he said. More inaudible from the woman. Yes, I know, darling.
He picked the phone up again. “Hm, where were we?” he said. “Yes, well. I shall not be requiring your services today, Miss Venn. Nor, indeed, ever!” How was that, darling?
“What’s he saying?” said Luna, the limp in her gait almost unnoticable as she came into the room.
“He doesn’t want the thing,” said Asta, slumping back in her seat and half-pulling her headset off one ear. “I think his wife found out where he was spending his late nights at the office.” This last part was whispered with her palm held over the bud of the headset mic.
“Well, make him take it! I nearly died for this hunk of metal!” said Luna, gesturing to the pendant which Asta now saw was hanging around her own neck.
“Don’t get too attached to it,” she said.
“Who’s attached? It complements my eyes,” said Luna, with a golden twinkle in them. She sat down next to Asta and grabbed her own headset from the rack.
“What’s your problem, man?” she said, pulling it over her ears. “We worked hard to get this for you, now you’re throwing us out in the cold?”
“It’s nothing like that,” said the councillor, suddenly flustered. “I had a talk with my… accountants… and we simply decided that it was too great an expenditure. Especially considering the dubious legality of the item in question.”
“What’re you trying to imply?” said Luna, winking to her partner as she dialled up her mock-outrage a few notches. “I run a tight ship here- well, my friend here does – and I don’t expect to be accused of felonies by some- some bull merchant!”
Before Asta could do anything, Luna extended a triumphant finger and stabbed the red connection switch, cutting off the call.
“What did you do that for?” she said, as Luna pulled her headset off and ran her hands over her black curls, shaking out the dent the crossbar of the earphones had made. “I thought we were going to try and sell him on it!”
“Nah,” said Luna, grinning. “Who needs him? We’ll find a buyer for a fine piece like this in no time. And in the meantime,” she hung it outside her loose white vest. “I get to look like a princess.”
Asta rolled her eyes. “You know, that was a constitutional democracy. No princesses,” she said.
“The governments of primitive planets,” Luna said as she went to the door, “hold absolutely no interest for me at all. I’m going to the gym for my physio-recuperation. You coming?” It always surprised Asta how long Luna could run for without stopping. Even now, only a few short days after her injury, she had been on the treadmill for at least ten minutes and hardly broken a sweat. Of course, the marvels of modern medicine did a lot for that. She hadn’t had the long recovery period that such an injury would have required on, say, the planet where it had been received. Luna glanced over and saw her watching.
“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” she said, smirking. “You alright? I wasn’t too rude to the councillor?”
“I’m worried we may have lost more than just today’s sale. He was a lucrative customer,” said Asta, her cheeks burning. She was still embarrassed to be caught staring; she was that kind.
“Hah! Emphasis on was,” Luna said. “Mrs. Councillor will be watching him like a hawk. No way we squeeze another payday out of him for a long time.”
Just then, Asta’s wrist-com pinged. She glanced down.
“You’re still wearing that thing?” said Luna. She hadn’t broken stride yet. Slowly, the treadmill tilted backwards to simulate a hill.
“Spoke too soon, my friend,” said Asta with a grin. “Text message from the man himself, just came through!” She stood up and opened up the wall terminal next to the door. A few quick keystrokes, and the message window popped open in front of her. “It’s a meeting place! I think he still wants the pendant!”
“Or his wife does,” said Luna. “A ‘sorry-I-cheated-again’ present?” She hopped off the treadmill and threw her arms round Asta’s neck. “Call me a cynic, but something tells me that marriage wasn’t on the firmest of ground to begin with.”
“Okay,” said Asta, craning her neck round to kiss Luna’s cheek. “You’re a cynic. And you need a shower.” Luna squeezed her a little tighter, and felt Asta’s body respond.
“Well, one of those things we can do something about, can’t we?” she whispered.
When Asta turned around, it was as though Luna had disappeared on the spot, and left only her vest and shorts behind.