number overwhelmed her. She didn’t see any that seemed to be showing the lobby. Besides, did it really matter? Only Yao knew about the "Little Pork Dumpling" code. It had to be him.
Pita hurried down the corridor that led to the lobby, but paused before opening the door, just to make sure. Looking through its tinted glass, she peered out past the reception desk. An ork in frayed jeans and a loose synthleather jacket was standing in the lobby, his back to the door leading to the street. He held one arm tucked against his chest and his shoulders were hunched, as if he were in pain. When he crossed over to one of the chairs and sat down, Pita recognized him at once by his narrow jaw and the wary look in his eyes. It was Yao, all right. Alive. For the first time in days, she smiled.
Somehow, Yao had escaped from the corporate goons. Pita was intensely curious to find out how he’d managed to survive the hail of bullets that had cut him down. But she was also reluctant to face him. She’d abandoned him on the street after he’d been shot. Just like she’d run off when Chen was gunned down. It would be easier just to hide in the newsroom, to let the receptionist send Yao away. But he’d promised to do a story on what Lone Star had done to Chen and the others. Unlike Carla and Masaki, he would surely keep his word. His own brother had died, after all. Pita should keep her end of the bargain and finish the interview. Assuming Yao still wanted to.
She opened the door and stepped out to the receptionist’s desk. Yao immediately looked up and flashed her a smile. "I thought I’d find you here." he said. "Are you all right?"
"I’m sorry I ran away, Yao. I thought you were—" He waved a hand in a dismissive gesture. "It wasn’t anything a bulletproof vest couldn’t stop. I’m just bruised is all."
"But I saw blood on your—"
"One bullet did hit my arm." He shrugged it gently. "So who was that woman in the car?"
"Her name’s Carla. She’s a reporter here."
"How do you know her?"
Pita scuffed at the floor with the toe of one sneaker. "Uh, I asked her to do a story on how the cops killed Chen." She glanced briefly at Yao to see if he was angry. "I would’ve come to you first, but I didn’t know where you were. So I went to Carla, instead. But she wasn’t interested. She didn’t seem to give a frag about Chen."
"So how come she showed up when I was interviewing you?"
Pita shrugged. "I guess she changed her mind. She says she’ll do the story now."
"I see." Yao said with a sneer. "So you were going to give my story to the competition."
Pita looked up. "I thought you were dead. Yao. I didn’t know what else to—"
"Forget it." He stood awkwardly, shoulders still hunched. "Now then, are you ready to finish our interview?"
Pita chewed her lip. "I don’t think I should leave the station. Masaki doesn’t think I’d be safe on the streets. He says those guys who shot you were yakuza."
"We won’t be on the streets." Yao reassured her. "I’ve got a room at a hotel, just down the block. We’ll finish the interview there. I’ll walk you back here afterward if you like." He gestured at the door that led to the newsroom. "You got all your stuff? Need to get anything before we leave?"
"What you see is what I got." Pita answered. "Not much. So how did you know where to find me?"
"I got the bar code of the car, and had a friend of mine deck into the vehicle registry databanks to find out who the owner was. Imagine my surprise when I found out it belonged to Jun."
"Who?’
"Jun Masaki. The reporter who was driving the car. I helped him out with a news story once before I started working with Orks First ! But he probably wouldn’t remember me."
"Oh." Pita said. "Everyone calls him by his last name, around here."
Yao pushed the door open. "Anyhow, I knew that Masaki was a reporter for KKRU. I figured that he might have brought you back to the station." He held the door open for her. "And I was right."
Pita
Pita hurried down the corridor that led to the lobby, but paused before opening the door, just to make sure. Looking through its tinted glass, she peered out past the reception desk. An ork in frayed jeans and a loose synthleather jacket was standing in the lobby, his back to the door leading to the street. He held one arm tucked against his chest and his shoulders were hunched, as if he were in pain. When he crossed over to one of the chairs and sat down, Pita recognized him at once by his narrow jaw and the wary look in his eyes. It was Yao, all right. Alive. For the first time in days, she smiled.
Somehow, Yao had escaped from the corporate goons. Pita was intensely curious to find out how he’d managed to survive the hail of bullets that had cut him down. But she was also reluctant to face him. She’d abandoned him on the street after he’d been shot. Just like she’d run off when Chen was gunned down. It would be easier just to hide in the newsroom, to let the receptionist send Yao away. But he’d promised to do a story on what Lone Star had done to Chen and the others. Unlike Carla and Masaki, he would surely keep his word. His own brother had died, after all. Pita should keep her end of the bargain and finish the interview. Assuming Yao still wanted to.
She opened the door and stepped out to the receptionist’s desk. Yao immediately looked up and flashed her a smile. "I thought I’d find you here." he said. "Are you all right?"
"I’m sorry I ran away, Yao. I thought you were—" He waved a hand in a dismissive gesture. "It wasn’t anything a bulletproof vest couldn’t stop. I’m just bruised is all."
"But I saw blood on your—"
"One bullet did hit my arm." He shrugged it gently. "So who was that woman in the car?"
"Her name’s Carla. She’s a reporter here."
"How do you know her?"
Pita scuffed at the floor with the toe of one sneaker. "Uh, I asked her to do a story on how the cops killed Chen." She glanced briefly at Yao to see if he was angry. "I would’ve come to you first, but I didn’t know where you were. So I went to Carla, instead. But she wasn’t interested. She didn’t seem to give a frag about Chen."
"So how come she showed up when I was interviewing you?"
Pita shrugged. "I guess she changed her mind. She says she’ll do the story now."
"I see." Yao said with a sneer. "So you were going to give my story to the competition."
Pita looked up. "I thought you were dead. Yao. I didn’t know what else to—"
"Forget it." He stood awkwardly, shoulders still hunched. "Now then, are you ready to finish our interview?"
Pita chewed her lip. "I don’t think I should leave the station. Masaki doesn’t think I’d be safe on the streets. He says those guys who shot you were yakuza."
"We won’t be on the streets." Yao reassured her. "I’ve got a room at a hotel, just down the block. We’ll finish the interview there. I’ll walk you back here afterward if you like." He gestured at the door that led to the newsroom. "You got all your stuff? Need to get anything before we leave?"
"What you see is what I got." Pita answered. "Not much. So how did you know where to find me?"
"I got the bar code of the car, and had a friend of mine deck into the vehicle registry databanks to find out who the owner was. Imagine my surprise when I found out it belonged to Jun."
"Who?’
"Jun Masaki. The reporter who was driving the car. I helped him out with a news story once before I started working with Orks First ! But he probably wouldn’t remember me."
"Oh." Pita said. "Everyone calls him by his last name, around here."
Yao pushed the door open. "Anyhow, I knew that Masaki was a reporter for KKRU. I figured that he might have brought you back to the station." He held the door open for her. "And I was right."
Pita
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