Read Pet Noir for Free Online

Devin’s chair to get a look at who he was talking to. Listening to, rather; the guy set off complaining about the maintenance delay and the extra storage fees it would cost him. I peered up at him. A skinny, fish-faced guy with a wet, loose mouth and watery eyes. Brown hair cut fairly short, floating out about an inch all around. He blinked a lot.
    â€œI’m sorry, man,” Devin told him. “It’s out of my control. Talk to Nu-Delta, it’s their ship.”
    â€œWhat about my next shipment? I’ve got twenty crates to unload for the next New Philly run, and my bay’s full of this other crap!”
    â€œI think I can squeeze it in. Let’s go have a look.”
    They stepped out from the console, both looking toward the ceiling. I realized they were about to cross the warehouse, and snagged a claw into the cuff of Devin’s one-all just before he pushed off. He sailed across the open space with me dangling from his ankle. A bit of a hair-raising ride, though my hair was already about as raised as it could be.
    They landed on a stack of crates and began talking about moving it, putting the new shipment underneath and restacking the current batch on top. I was about to climb down onto the crates when I realized they were smooth-surfaced, nothing for me to grab onto. The only thing I might be able to hook my claws into was the containment net, but its strands looked pretty dense and were widely spaced. I would have had to do a tightrope act to move around on them. I chickened out and secured my hold on Devin’s ankle instead, being careful not to distract him with a poke.
    The crates were all labeled with a logo, a funky star design with the company name, Stratoma, woven into it. I memorized it, thinking I might have to find my way back over there on foot.
    By this time Devin had talked the guy into a better mood. They agreed on moving the shipment, and pushed off to float back across to the control console. I hopped off Devin’s ankle and slunk back under the console to await further developments. After a little more chat, the guy headed off for the airlock at the far corner of the warehouse.
    Devin sat in his chair and leaned down to talk to me in a low voice. “I’m gonna help this guy and his crew move their stuff, but I’m programming my com to page me halfway through. You keep an eye on them after I go, OK?”
    I nodded, then glanced up at the ceiling where Stratoma’s bay was. If I was going to get over there in time, I’d better start walking.
    â€œYou can hitch a ride on my ankle again,” Devin said as if he’d read my mind. “Let’s go, while they’re busy in the airlock.”
    I hopped onto Devin’s leg and he pushed off, catching himself on Stratoma’s crates. He bounced back and forth between two stacks, making his way to the ground surface, and turned around so I could get off. He uncoupled the containment net over Stratoma’s stuff, fastened it to itself to keep the crates from drifting out of it, then headed back to the top of the stack.
    I decided to get out of the way. I moved into a narrow aisle between neighboring bays. The bays weren’t structural, just areas marked off by green-striped borders on the carpet, each with a number.
    Looking up toward Devin I got the feeling of being in the bottom of a deep canyon, or on the street in a city of skyscrapers, gazing up toward a tiny scrap of blue. In this case, the blue was green—reflected light from the control console. Deep shadows slanted down where the cargo stacks blocked it.
    The netload of Stratoma crates started moving upward. Devin was pulling it out of the bay to make room for the new shipment. I watched for a while, but the crates were moving so slowly I got bored and decided to explore a little.
    I prowled along the aisles, checking out the smells emanating faintly from the crates, watching the bay numbers and figuring out their sequence so