6

Heard you got a petrol thief, Tungét,” one of the late stint riders called as Wenthi came into the uniform room. The room was filled with Civil Patrol officers coming off the night stint and more coming on the late stint, same as it was every night at seven on fifty.

“Nice catch!” Hwokó said, grabbing Wenthi by the front of his uniform. She pulled him close to her. “How you thinking of celebrating?”

“Getting every late-stinter coming off shift to jump into his bunk?” Paulei suggested. Paulei Jéngka had been Wenthi’s riding partner on the night stint for the past season, and friend, lover, and compatriot since training cohort. Paulei was a good cop, the kind of rider everyone in the late stint cadre wanted by their side, especially when patrolling the upper senjas. He was also the one most everyone wanted to meet for drinks after shift, and whatever followed.

“That sounds promising,” Wenthi said.

“Mmm,” Hwokó said, giving him a playful slap. “Shame I’m double-stinting, or I’d join you all.”

“They did say I should celebrate,” Wenthi said. “Up on third.”

“What?” Minlei said as she changed out of her uniform into her civilian slacks. “They call you up there? And you weren’t in trouble?”

“Some vesti just wanted to praise me,” Wenthi said. “Though—” He wasn’t sure how to put it.

“What’s up?” Guand asked.

“Nothing,” Wenthi said, swallowing the uncomfortable comment the investigator had made about thinking they were letting the thieves escape, looking the other way. Surely none of them here were doing that.

“Well, thank spirits someone is doing their job.” Whoever said that—a late sweeper Wenthi didn’t know—knocked Paulei on the arm.

“Wait, wait,” Paulei said. “Let me tell you, because, yeah, I fouled it up.”

“Heard you slid your cycle, Jéngka!”

“Slid it hard,” Wenthi said. “I’m amazed his leg isn’t torn up.”

“It is!” Paulei said, taking off his uniform pants. Sure enough, his tan, muscular leg was scraped, though the damage didn’t look too bad. Paulei was laughing and showing it off to everyone in the room. “But hear it. Radio calls that a couple jifoz had torn through the 14th, probably checkpoint jumpers. We’re on Outtown patrol around the 17th, you know, rounding the circles like any night.”

“Get to the damned point, Paulei,” Hwokó said as she put on her uniform coat.

“The mouth on her,” Paulei said teasingly.

“You like my mouth, Jéngka.”

“You sure you’re not jifoz, Hwokó?”

“If anyone’s got a jifo greasehead, it’s Tungét,” Hwokó said, roughly rubbing Wenthi’s head. “Tell the story.”

Wenthi chuckled and went to his niche while Paulei went on. It wasn’t the first time Hwokó—or anyone else in the Civil Patrol—had made such a comment about his hair. He didn’t mind most of the time, and he had had a good shift, so he wasn’t about to let Hwokó ruin his mood. He changed out of his uniform and put on his civilian duds. He was hardly that stylish in his dress, but he cut a good figure in his lime-green pegged trousers and wide matching tie and suspenders. Paulei, in the midst of his recounting Wenthi’s arrest for the night, was still in his cotton top and briefs, not in any hurry to finish getting dressed. Not that Wenthi or anyone else in the room minded the delay.

“So we charge after this wildcat on her ’goiz, and she’s weaving and curving around the pylons, doing at least 120. Crazy one, she is, and I can’t keep up with her. She whips around one pylon and drops into the aqueduct without so much as a gearshift. I blow that turn and skid along the gravel. You’re lucky you still have a partner, Wenthi.”

“Am I, though?” Wenthi teased back. “I mean, you were kind of useless tonight.”

“Knock him, knock him.” Hwokó laughed as she got her boots laced up.

“Fair, boy,” Paulei went on. “I mean, I’m on the ground, next thing I know, the cat is off like a shot, and boom, Wenthi is down in that aqueduct in highest gear, off down that tunnel. I manage to get on my feet and haul my cycle back on its wheels, and my radio buzzes. Here’s this boy, cool as a Hemish winter. ‘Hey. I got shackles clapped. Call me a roll.’”

Everyone laughed, even though it was only because Paulei had made it funny.

“Hey, come on,” Wenthi said. “It’s not like Minlei and Guand didn’t bring in their own catch.”

“You didn’t hear?” someone answered. “That fool was a llipe. That catch is getting tossed from the files.”

“What is a llipe boy doing on a siphon steal with a bunch of jifos? Doesn’t he have something better to do?”

“Don’t the jifos?” Hwokó asked.

“Don’t you?” Wenthi shot at her. “Don’t you got a shift to ride?”

“Spirits, he’s in a shitty mood,” Hwokó said. She left the uniform room, as did most of the other late shift riders.

“Hey,” Paulei said, coming over to Wenthi and reaching out to caress his face. “You did good. We finally got shacks on one of those fuel thieves.”

“Yeah,” Wenthi said. Paulei had that look like he often did after a shift, like he wanted to go back to the dorms and blow some steam, either the two of them or whoever else was available.

“What are you looking for tonight?”

“I just figured the hero deserved a reward,” Paulei said with a devious smile. “Or, like Hwokó said, you’re in a mood. I know how to fix that. We could rope whoever else is around?”

That did sound like a good idea. Wenthi was certainly for heading straight back to the apartments and getting comfortable with Paulei. Even though doing so in headquarters was frowned upon, he kissed Paulei quick, to let him know he wasn’t blowing him off.

“Let’s get home, figure it out there, deal?”

Paulei winked. “Deal.”