so this has been sitting on my computer for months
and I don’t know what to do with it, so I release it to the universe and maybe it can help me figure out what the fuck to do with it.
* * * *
The dive bar that Drummer had finally found near her accommodations in the Martian capital fell silent. Her back stiffened, ready to defend herself, but she figured it was local trouble and no one would bother her as long she had script.
She heard the whisper of silk as someone sat on the stool next to her at the bar. "I’ll have what she’s having,“ a familiar voice said and she nearly choked on her drink.
Drummer tried not to let her shock show on her face, but judging by the smirk on Chrisjen Avasarala’s face, she failed. The Martian bartender looked at Drummer as if she would have the answer as to why the Secretary General of the United Nations had sullied his bar. Drummer just shrugged and turned back to her drink. "What you want?” Drummer asked.
Avasarala accepted her drink with a nod. “Where the fuck is Fred Johnson?”
“Fred too busy to come, so he send me now.” Which was true. Fred was busy establishing Medina, formerly known as the Behemoth, as the transport hub between galaxies. With all the bad memories of what happened there and the scar across her lower back that twinged every time she thought about that <i>wrong</i> space, Drummer almost accepted the fact Fred sent her to deal the Inners. Almost. “I’m sure he come in time to carve up the universe with you Inners.”
Avasarala made a non-committal noise as she took a sip of her drink. She grimaced. “This is fucking awful.”
“No one keeping you here. Can leave.”
“Good idea.” Avasarala reached out and laid one perfectly manicured hand on Drummer’s upper arm. "Camina – “
"Drummer,” she spat as she shrugged off Avasarala’s hand.
“– come to the UN Embassy. Have a drink with me that doesn’t taste like someone wrung out a dirty gym sock.”
Fred had told her to play nice, and if she got some free booze out of it, Drummer guessed it would be a reward for her effort. "Fine.“ She got the attention of the bartender. "She paying,” Drummer said, pointing toward Avasarala.
Avasarala looked pointedly at one of her security detail who went to pay the bill. Without looking back at Drummer, she started to make her way out of the bar. "Pagal tumang,“ Drummer grumbled under her breath and followed the back of Avasarala’s scarlet sari.
Leave it to the Earthers to have a completely ornamental garden outside of their Embassy. Drummer could see it from the windows of Avasarala’s temporary living quarters. She remained standing, hands behind her back as Avasarala padded around the room in her bare feet, looking for something, while pulling the heavy red-stone earrings from her ears.
"Ah!” Avasarala exclaimed, retrieving a bottle from the recesses of a desk drawer. The desk was old and looked made of wood. The fact that someone had used resources to transport something as useless as a desk from Earth to Mars, it made Drummer angry (?).
“My predecessor was a fucking bobble head but he had excellent taste in liquor.” Avasarala grabbed two glasses and presented the bottle with a flourish. "Whiskey. All the way from the remnants of the British Islands.“ She poured a healthy measure in both glasses. "Sit, please.”
Drummer sat on the couch that had decent a line of sight of the exits. Old habits died hard. Avasarala sat in the armchair perpendicular and gave Drummer a glass. “Yam seng, I believe is the appropriate phrase?”
“Yam seng,” Drummer replied flatly. The Earther whiskey tasted different from fungus-based alcohol she was used to. But it burned just the same and that was good enough.
Avasarala moved to pour more into Drummer’s glass. She placed her hand over it. “Naomi told me about you.”
Avasarala leaned back into her chair and took a drink. "Oh? You still correspond with Ms. Nagata even though she’s with Holden on New Terra?“
Her words and demeanor made it seem like she was engaging in small talk, but Drummer knew better. Both Fred and Naomi had warned her that nothing was simple with Avasarala. She had to admit she was formidable - the old woman had found Drummer’s softest spot – Naomi. She hated that she worried about Naomi as she was weeks out of communication range with Holden who had never met a dumb action he didn’t take. She received Naomi’s last message as she left Tycho and now that she was on Mars, the lag between missives would take months.
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