Lily looked forward to the brisk winter snow awaiting her in Plumgrove.

Nevertheless, Malewai was an exotic world, vastly different from her little farm. She'd never been here, aside from a few hours with Mr. Cunningham before the ascent, and she was curious to explore before going home.

A dark wall of clouds blanketed the horizon, over the churning gray and blue of the sea. Tropical rain had recently washed through, soaking the pedestal-raised buildings and rambling streets. The air was dense and wet, yet warm, and clung to her like a second skin.

She strolled along the main pier, admiring the colorful, eye-catching wares displayed for the tourists amid the local market. There were sheer, flowing wraps and tinkling jewelry for pretty ladies, fruits of unimaginable sizes and shades, as well as cheap replica variations of name brand products proudly offered. A bird with sapphire wings squawked funny phrases, amusing a group of children. The chatter of bartering voices, sellers closing shop for the evening, and the distant whine of an Indolasian folk song teased her ears.

A vendor in a conical hat creaked by, his cart laden with spices, perfumes, and odd, beaded jewelry. She was attracted to a necklace with painted ridges of pink and violet, beaming from an ornate carving of a deity at the center.

"This is Fawu La," the old man said, with a yellowed but friendly grin. "She is the goddess of music and love, a most auspicious choice. She'll bring you good luck."

He wrapped the pendant into a gauzy purple bag, and she paid him with a gentle tap against his hand.

Her stomach rumbled, and she realized she hadn't eaten since her break on the lift. "Pardon me, sir," she asked. "Can you recommend a good restaurant here?"

The vendor nodded, pointing to a winding lane along the waterfront. "Lou Wen is the local favorite. Follow this road, and you'll find his establishment."

The alluring smell of fried food wafted along the soft breeze. She hurried down the street. Swaying palm trees whispered, and neon blinked in hazy reflections upon the wet cobblestones. She turned a corner, and met the unmistakable face of her destination. A cheerful sign with bold letters announced the name, 'Lou Wen's Noodle House'.

The front of the restaurant was open, facing the thoroughfare. Several people sat at the bamboo tables and chairs on the patio, beneath the deepening red and violet of the sunset. A service counter lined with stools for customers in a hurry appealed to her.

She chose a seat at the front. A string of blinking white party lights decorated the woven mats and palm fronds overhanging the kitchen. The lilting notes of an Indolasian pop song buzzed from the speaker of a dingy radio.

A broad-shouldered man sat at the opposite end of the service counter, over a steaming bowl of rice and vegetables. He was on a call, speaking to his wristcom as he stirred the food with his chopsticks. His voice was familiar, drawing her attention, though his face was obscured behind chin-length dark hair.

She felt a soft, insistent bump against her leg, and looked down.

Feline blue eyes stared up at her, squinting to friendly slits. The chromed joints of the cat's exoskeleton shimmered with the muted glow of the lights.

She reached down, and petted Mr. Vincent's soft fur.

He purred, rubbing against her fingers, and strolled saucily away with his tail raised. Then he jumped into the lap of the man at the counter.

There was no mistaking Mr. Marlow.

Lily stood, suddenly feeling nervous. He was her boss, after all. She was torn between leaving, before he saw her, and saying hello. After a brief deliberation, she chose the latter.

He'd removed his tuxedo jacket, and his collar and vest were unbuttoned for comfort. When his call ended, he sighed. He rested his chin against his hand, scratching Mr. Vincent's ears with a distracted expression.

"Good day, Mr. Marlow," she said, taking the empty stool beside him.

"Oh. Hello, Miss Fairpoole." He cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, I didn't notice you there."

She smiled and lowered her eyes. "It's all right. I sneaked up on you when I saw Mr. Vincent."

He studied her face for a few seconds. "I see you've found your way to Lou Wen's already. You won't be disappointed. It may not look like much from the outside, but Lou makes the best greasy noodles and brightly-colored drinks in port." His jaw was bruised, a dark spot along the chiseled curve, but he didn't seem hindered by it.

"I'm starving," she said. "Any menu suggestions for a first-timer?"

He was more than happy to elaborate on his favorites.

Up close, she noticed that the warm brown of his irises was circled with golden amber, a striking mix. His dark eyelashes gave him an endearing, boyish look, in contrast to his defined features and sensible, downturned nose. He wasn't classically handsome, but he was strong and well-built. When he straightened his posture and smiled, he was attractive. She glanced instinctively at his hand and noticed he didn't wear a wedding ring.

The slap of woven sandals against bare heels announced Lou Wen, as he strolled toward them.

"Ah, Walter. I see you bring a lady friend this time," he said. His eyes and smile were jovial arcs as he wiped his fingers against his stained apron.

Mr. Marlow fidgeted with his chopsticks, and blushed spots rose in his pale cheeks. "This is my co-worker, Miss Fairpoole."

Lou patted Mr. Marlow on the shoulder and grinned. "Good to see you finally out with a pretty face, not just with the kitty all the time, eh?"

"I don't want to talk about it, Lou."

Lou's laughter was more like a cough. "Of course, of course. Now, what can I make for you, Miss Fairpoole?"

"I'd like to try the Seafood Stir, if it's available at this hour."

"Just for you," Lou said. "I'll make anything, to see your beautiful smile." He went back to the kitchen, and tossed the ingredients into an enormous wok, singing along with the radio in loud, off-key Indolasian.

The smell was irresistible, and her mouth watered. When the food arrived, she covered it in tangy sauces, and tried not to slurp the noodles in front of Mr. Marlow.

He finished his rice bowl, then turned to her. His gaze flicked downward shyly, then returned with emboldened curiosity. "May I buy you a drink, Miss Fairpoole?"

This sudden intimacy with her supervisor was unsettling, but she didn't want to seem arrogant or rude. "Sure, but only if I can buy you one."

His laughter was a deep and easy sound. "I like that proposition." He waved at Lou, and they ordered a pair of vibrant cocktails.

The cat slept in a tight curl in its owner's lap.

"Does Mr. Vincent go everywhere with you?" she asked.

"Not everywhere. He's used to this place, and of course to the lift. He stays close most of the time. I've never been certain of his exact genetic design, but he seems to be engineered for loyalty."

"Interesting." Lily stirred her drink, the ice pinging against the edges of the stemmed glass. Her mind and inhibitions wavered from the sweet haze of the liquor. The question she'd been dying to ask forced its way out, blunt as she always was. "So, tell me. Where did you get that deactivation rod? I haven't seen one since the War."

He paused as if evaluating his reply. "A Pruessian friend gave it to me, while I was interred in the ration camps."

Few people were willing to talk about the camps, or the War. She remembered what Mr. Paynter had revealed, about Mr. Marlow being a fighter. "Were you a boxer? The last time I saw one of those rods used was during a robotic match."

"I was. Well, I still am. I started competing again recently, after a break of several years." He sipped his drink, then traced the edge of the glass with one finger. "Were you in the camps as well?"

She nodded. "My family and I were prisoners of Hir Kaezer for over a year. It's such a different world, now. Sometimes I'm amazed at what I've seen in my lifetime. Other times, I feel like crying for what I lost." She suddenly regretted blurting such personal details to her employer.

Mr. Marlow wasn't bothered. He gave her a slow, knowing smile. "I'm sure there are many who feel that way. I like to believe that my experiences forged me into a stronger person. I was only a kid when I was a prisoner, but I learned things that I've carried throughout my life."

"Truly."

He looked away, folding his hands across the counter. "I do hope the wild events of this last descent haven't deterred you," he said. "You did an excellent job. I'm impressed with your intelligence and reliability. Your quick reaction in resetting the network averted a crisis."

"Thank you, sir. And don't worry, I'm not quitting." She noted his relief, with a pleased expression. "I enjoy a challenge, and it seems the Ruby lift has plenty to offer. I also like the crew. Everyone pulled together when things got rough, and that's how I'm used to working."

A broad smile lit his face. "I'm glad to have you aboard. It appears you're well suited to the Ruby."

They raised their glasses, and drank to a prosperous career.

"Do you live on Earth, Mr. Marlow?"

He nodded. "I have a flat in Askogan City. You?"

"I'm a ground-dweller, too. I have a farmhouse in Plumgrove. Though my brother would love to get me back to the colonies, it's where I prefer to stay."

He seemed to be distracted by the alcohol as well, growing introspective. "Things on Earth have a cadence, which the colonies don't," he said. "Even the lift follows it, whether we're coming up, or going down."

"I know what you mean," she said. "It's like a dance. You either move with it, or sit and watch on the sidelines. I've found that I prefer to join in."

"As do I." He seemed embarrassed when he caught himself staring at her, shifted on his stool, and rubbed the back of his neck as he looked away.

After another round of cocktails, she barely noticed that an hour had passed. They agreed that it was time to go home, and bade each other a cordial farewell.

"I'll see you in three days for the ascent, sir," she said.

"Absolutely. Have a wonderful evening, Miss Fairpoole."

His handshake was warm and masculine.

She took a deep breath, and forced herself not to stare after him. He intrigued her, in unexplainable ways. This new job had more than one perk.

The spaceport was several blocks away, so she hired a cab. Sunset was a scarlet glow over the ocean, night darkening the sky. Her luggage had been forwarded from the lift to the porters, thanks to the efficiency of Zora. She boarded a commuter shuttle for home, the flight offering plenty of time for relaxation.

When she checked her inbox, she found a message from Clarence.

"She said yes." A photo was attached, showing the happy couple in an embrace, the ring on Tess's finger proudly displayed.

Lily smiled, dabbed away a tear, and sent a congratulatory reply.

The next afternoon, she met with the Hard Knocks for practice.

A new song had formed in her mind, since the evening at Lou Wen's, and the conversation with Mr. Marlow.

The melody and words sprang forth, almost out of nowhere.

"Don't worry, baby,

"Got your back, and you've got mine,

"Just the way it is,

"Comin' up and goin' down."

Her voice rang, assured and true, as she sang it for the others.

"That was the darb," Gilda said, pushing her fedora back with a stunned expression.

Sammy whistled. "And how. One of your smoothest riffs yet, Lily. Let's jam on that for a while."

The music surrounded her, matching the pulse of her heart. She moved in time, and closed her eyes.

"You have to catch the rhythm," she said. "Otherwise, it plays on, and might just pass you by."

~END~

Note: The story of the Ruby lift and its valiant crew will continue in my upcoming novel, "Ruby Descent". Get ready for retrofuturistic mayhem in this wild decopunk adventure.