Retribution

I waited for her to pick up the glass and drink from it before I slid onto the stool next to her at the bar. "Hello, Meera," I murmured, leaning in a little with a familiarity I didn't feel.

She was a good looking broad, still young and used to having people hit on her--those who didn't mind symbiotes at least. Hers was a big one, spread all over her bare arms and shoulders. It had to be from Venus. The tattoo-like distinct presence of the symbiote shimmered on her skin, continuously changing shape while she slowly turned around, in a studied half-bored, half-flirty manner.

Her eyes flew wide open when she saw me, and she stammered, "I-I didn't tell them, I swear!"

"Really?" I gave her a wicked grin. It felt good to see her scared.

"Why would I?" She fully turned to face me. "I needed the money. You wanted the information. I gave it to you. This was our deal, and I stuck by it." Her voice turned pleading, desperate to make me believe her. I did not feel sorry for her.

"Yes. You sold me the information, and then you sold me to them." The math was simple. It would have doubled the sum, tripled it even. It had also earned me a trip to hell and two months of hospitalization. Not bad for one night of work.

"But I was there all the time. You saw me. I never left the table. I couldn't have warned them."

And still, the thugs had been waiting outside the restaurant when I left, in a place that was supposed to be safe. When you dealt with secrets, there were always factions interested in stealing them, or protecting them. The secret technology--based on dehydration with sulfuric acid--used on Earth to keep the oceans at bay after the global warming had reached its peak was certainly a big deal.

"Well, someone did," I said, and my eyes trailed down her body.

My heart beat a little faster than usual, but it had nothing to do with her generous cleavage. I reached out and pretended to run a finger along her arm, careful not to touch her. Some of the symbiotes were poisonous, tricky little buggers. A storm of colors followed my finger wherever it moved, making her skin look like a rainbow. The steady calm dark blue replaced by this turmoil meant the symbiote would have rather seen me dead. Get in line, buddy.

She gasped, finally caught on the idea. "But… why? It has access to my thoughts. It knew what would happen if I betrayed you." She panicked. "It should have helped me! It lives because of me."

"You see, Meera, that's the problem with symbiotes," I told her, looking into her beautiful green eyes, the only part of her not touched by the parasite. "It's not a two-way street. You never know what they think. They're complacent while it suits them, and then they stab you in the back when you least expect it."

Ironically, it wasn't much different from what I did, only I should have been wiser. I should have known the symbiote would try to protect its home planet. After all, the Venusian clouds were the richest source of sulfuric acid in the vicinity. Who could blame it? This was all my fault, not that I felt any remorse for it. I did feel the need for revenge, though.

Her lips trembled and her fingers whitened from the force with which she grasped her half-empty glass. Mine was still full. Her desperate look was disturbing and threatened to catch other people's attention. The bartender was eyeing us with concern from the opposite corner of the bar.

I sighed and rolled my eyes. Let's not have people say I had no heart. "How deeply rooted is it?" I asked. Maybe it wasn't all lost.

"It's replacing my liver." She whimpered.

The colors flared again then paled, separating in dark smudges that faded away. The entire symbiote's behavior was a cry for help one no one heard. The stuff I had slipped into her drink was strong and working in full effect.

"Sorry, sweetheart," I whispered in her ear. "I always pay my debts." I patted her on the back in a seemingly encouragingly manner. With the symbiote deactivated and already breaking, there was no danger now.

Meera slumped on the bar top like a broken doll, her hand knocking the glass off it. The bartender rushed our way.

"Call the paramedics. She's having liver failure," I told him.

He did.

My palms were itching. I squeezed them into fists and shoved them into my pockets. While people fussed over Meera, I casually walked out of the bar. My symbiote was happy. It had always hated the ones from Venus.

THE END

Bio: Ms. Visan has always dreamed about reaching the stars, but since she can't, she writes about it. She’s the author of several science fiction and fantasy series, among which are The Impaler Legacy, Broken People, The Stolen Wings, and Law and Crucible. www.ioanvisan.tk Her last Aphelion appearance was That Damned Toothbrush... in our July, 2016 issue.