Malparadiso Station Season 3.2
Episode 23 No Roach Creme For You
Episode 23: No Roach Creme for You
As Granny Claws slipped her response to Yroi’s boss in her pocket, and came out of the office, four Guards spread out around the Full Bowl. One stood by the kitchen, and one slipped behind Granny to the back office.
The Guard Sergeant walked up to Granny. “Have you seen this kleckovan female?” He showed her the picture on his comm unit. It was Yroi, hooded, in the same work clothes she’d worn today. The picture had been considerably enhanced, but it was Yroi.
“I don’t track every kleek on the planet,” Granny said. “They come in and out of here at all times of the cycle.”
“You do know this one, however.” The Sergeant was not impressed by her evasion.
“Yes, I know her.” Granny glared at the sergeant. “But I don’t know where she is.”
True enough, she’d known where Yroi was two minutes ago, but now? She hoped her granddaughter had gotten out before the Guards came in, that was unlikely. Her boss would want an answer, and Granny didn’t have time to give it to her.
There was no back door except to the tunnels, and Slime wasn’t expected for a couple more cycles. Yroi didn't know her way around there any more than Granny did.
Would the Guards try to follow her there?
“She works for Mistress Zabayaba.” Granny said, offering a bit of useless information. “Maybe you could ask there?”
“Search the place.” Sergeant commanded.
In the kitchen, the server and the cook were cuddled up amorously against the back door, the control panel for it covered by a drying rack for noodles.
The Guard took each one’s head in turn, and compared it to the picture of Yroi. While they were both kleeks, neither had the same greenish pattern across the face. She still rousted them up and dragged them out to the dining room.
Another Guard opened the storage units, which again were too small for hiding a person, besides being full of foodstuff.
The back office had no place to hide anyone, except the recycle room, and it was too small for even one person.
“Clear,” each Guard called.
“Do you put up with people bumping uglies on the job?” the sergeant asked.
Granny shrugged. “They were on a break.” She stared at him, challenging him to smile. “They work cheaper if I provide quarters.”
They stared each other down for a full minute, neither blinking.
“Tell you what,” the Sergeant said. “Fix us some of that famous chow you have, and we’ll be on our way.”
At a glance from Granny, the cook went back to the kitchen. The server brought each Guard a flavored water, a popular kleckovan drink. They sat in a semicircle around Granny.
Granny sat in her usual seat, the cashbox significantly absent. At least they hadn’t tried to shake her down for creds—had the Guard not seen the box in the office?
Some of the regular customers walked by, looked in, and kept walking. If word hadn’t spread before, it would now, and she’d likely not make a single centicred on the supper rush.
The cook had gotten his preps done early, before all the drama, as the smells of sour and hot toufood came from the kitchen, along with the sound of sizzling tunnel lips. The cook was doing a good job, but he was leaning on the kleckovan side of cuisine, the usual choke-and-puke fare every other establishment made on this level.
Just as the Guards were getting restless, wanting to get on with their search, the server brought out their meals. The Guards stared at the food, the price being right if the choice was limited, and began to eat.
The Sergent said, “Can I have a takeout bag for some of this. I want my wife to try making it.”
A few coughs came from the other Guards.
Granny didn’t care what the joke was, as long as they got out of her place. “I hope you enjoy it later.”
The Sergeant smiled. “I heard this place had the best food this side of the Core.” He shook his head. “I guess it beats my wife’s cooking.”
The other Guards openly chuckled.
“Mistress Zabayaba stole my chef,” Granny said. “We have to get by on what we get, like everyone else. So we don’t have any roach creme for you today.”
The chuckles were replaced with groans. Several of the Guards looked greener than kleeks.
“Your boy feeds the Mistress roaches?” The Sergeant shuddered despite his control of his face.
“I have no idea. She is said to have... exotic tastes.” Granny smiled. She handed him a takeout bag. “Come back any time you want real Lev3 food.”