Galactic Vice: A Jafla Base Vice Squad Novel

by Jake Bible

  “Yes, officer, I rented a roller and it has been stolen,” Angie continued. “Where? I believe it is called the Mesker District.”

  Angie rolled her eyes then winked at Tipo.

  “Oh, well, no one told me that. Now that you mention it, it certainly does not seem like a nice area of town, no.”

  She paused and tapped her foot.

  “I parked it in front of a bar called Pitcher’s and now it’s gone. I thought I saw it turn the corner. Or maybe it wasn’t a corner but an alley. Is there an alley behind the bar?”

  Another pause, more foot tapping. Tipo was starting to enjoy the performance.

  “Oh, no, I didn’t go looking. I’m back at my hotel now. I took a taxi.”

  Angie snapped her fingers. Tipo mouthed the words, “Hotel Voc.”

  “Hotel Voc. I’m checked in under Spollo,” Angie continued. “Mags Spollo. What was that? Oh, yes, you can reach me at this comm signature. Thank you, officer. I certainly hope you find the roller. I didn’t opt for the travel insurance and I simply can’t afford to lose it.”

  She smiled wide and nodded.

  “Exactly. Silly old me. Of course. I’ll be waiting to hear back. Thank you.”

  She killed the comm and grinned at Tipo.

  Tipo grinned back, nodding, and said, “And why did we just go through all that terpigshit?”

  “Time to get the op started,” Angie replied as she walked back towards the table. “The opportunity presented itself and I took it.”

  “The opportunity to…what? Have three huge junkies mess up your rented roller? Because that’s what’s about to happen. They are going to tear through that vehicle from stem to stern. Nothing will be left of it.”

  “I don’t care about the roller. It’s disposable. The chief will understand when I expense it.”

  “Listen, man, I’m trying to follow, but you are not helping me out here. What in all the Hells is going on?”

  “Popping Knowles’ Jafla cherry is what is going on,” Angie said as she sat down and sipped her beer.

  “Excuse me?” Tipo asked as he sat down too. He eyed the beer. “You sure your body can handle more of that?”

  Angie didn’t respond to the question. She simply sipped the beer until it was gone then got up and walked out of the bar. Tipo cursed and followed her.

  When out on the sidewalk, Angie slowed so Tipo could catch up. As soon as he was walking next to her, she looped her arm through his and leaned her head on his shoulder for appearances.

  “We need a meeting place,” Angie said. “Not one your Squad knows about. No safe houses.”

  “You really think there’s a mole?” Tipo asked, shifting his body so he leaned in closer to Angie in order to make the facade of them being a couple look more real. The few folks out on the sidewalk barely gave them a second glance. No one in Mesker cared about appearances or facades.

  “I don’t know, but until I do, I plan on keeping all details of the op off your Squad’s books,” Angie said. “No offense.”

  “None taken,” Tipo said. “I’ve always wondered if there was a mole.”

  “Good. So, where should we meet that no one will be watching?” Angie asked.

  Tipo snorted and glanced up at the gray sky that swirled outside the environmental dome far, far above.

  “I know a place. No one from the Squad will go anywhere near it,” Tipo said.

  “Great. Tell me that address and I’ll pass it on to Knowles,” Angie said. “Once he’s done with the mess he’s about to get into, then he can arrange to meet us there. Probably going to be a couple of days, though.”

  “I thought I was meeting with him today,” Tipo said. “And what mess?”

  “The mess of three junkies who are going to be really pissed off when they find a tile hustler in that roller instead of chits,” Angie said. “Well, they’ll find chits because Knowles has a bankroll he’s supposed to use, but I have a feeling he’s going to lose that bankroll.”

  “Are you shitting me?” Tipo cried.

  That got some notice from passersby and he winced as Angie dug her fingernails into the flesh of his arm.

  “Calm down,” Angie said. “Knowles is a pro at this. I’ll call him and give him a heads up.”

  “You better call him now,” Tipo hissed. “Those guys are going to kill him.”

  “I’m on it,” Angie said.

  9.

  “Yeah, they’re here, asshole,” Etch snarled into his comm as the roller shook back and forth from the multiple hits it was taking from the enraged junkies. “What? I can barely hear you. These stim freaks aren’t exactly happy right now.”

  “Police are on the way,” Angie said over the comm. “Do enough that they lock you up, but not enough that you do any real time, got it?”

  “I know how to weasel into the system,” Etch replied. “A little heads up next time would be nice.”

  “No time,” Angie said. “The situation presented itself and I went for it. A little birdie told me that now is the time to put you in a cell. You know how it goes.”

  Etch studied the three junkies, his eyes lingering on the Urvein.

  “Gwreqs won’t be a problem, but the big hairy son of a bitch isn’t going to go down easily,” Etch said as he reached under the seat and pulled out a Blorta 22 laser pistol.

  “No weapons,” Angie said. “Keep that Blorta I brought hidden in the roller. You’re going to have to get out and handle this hand to hand.”

  “Fuck me, I am!” Etch shouted.

  The junkies shouted back, spitting curses at Etch and telling him exactly which parts of his anatomy he was going to lose if he didn’t open the roller and give them the chits.

  “Knowles, this has to look real,” Angie said.

  “I already look real!” Etch shouted. “We made sure I didn’t fully heal so I could look as real as possible!”

  “Now you’ll have new bruises to go with your old ones,” Angie said. “Shows you can take a beating and get back up for another.”

  “I don’t want to get back up for another,” Etch said. “Eight Million Gods, McDade. These guys are going to tear me apart.”

  “You got this, Knowles,” Angie said. “Wait until you hear the sirens then get to work. The Jafla PD will arrive before you can get too hurt.”

  “That’s hardly a scientific assessment of this shit show,” Etch said.

  “Sorry. It’s what we have,” Angie said. “You get thrown in the clink and then you can do what you do best.”

  “Yeah. Great. Just wonderful,” Etch said. He took several deep breaths. “Then what?”

  “Memorize this address,” Angie said then repeated an address five times. “Got it?”

  “Got it,” Etch replied as he put his hand on the door’s handle. “Could be a week or two before I can meet up.”

  “I know,” Angie said. “So make that week or two count.”

  “Got it,” Etch said. “Going to go now. Time to get my ass handed to me.”

  “Hand them their asses too or the cops won’t arrest you,” Angie said.

  “Really? I didn’t think of that,” Etch said then killed the comm.

  He opened the door and was instantly yanked from the roller and thrown across the alley.

  “Look for the chits!” the Urvein yelled as he forced his bulk into the front of the roller.

  The Gwreqs ripped open the rear doors and began ransacking the back seat.

  Etch picked himself up out of a puddle of something that certainly wasn’t water and looked up and down the alley. One way in, one way out. Incinerator bins here and there. Trash everywhere. Not a weapon in sight.

  Not that Etch needed an external weapon to do some damage.

  Razor-sharp claws extended from the tip of each finger as Etch rolled his neck, cracking the vertebrae loud enough to get the first Gwreq’s attention.

  “Where the chits?” the first Gwreq yelled as he yanked himself out of the back of the roller and started stomping towards Et
ch. “Give us the chits or we kill you, you little…”

  The Gwreq paused and looked Etch up and down.

  “What is you?” the being asked.

  “Tile player by trade,” Etch said.

  “Found them!” the Urvein whooped and nearly destroyed the roller’s frame as he pulled back out of the vehicle. He held up a small case. “Chits!” The Urvein glanced in the case and frowned. “Not many chits.”

  “That’s my bankroll,” Etch said. “I was going to try to get in on—”

  “Don’t care,” the first Gwreq said as he swung a stone fist at Etch’s head.

  Etch ducked and swiped at the Gwreq’s belly. His claws raked across the being’s stone-like skin and made several deep gouges, but didn’t draw blood. Piercing a Gwreq’s skin was a job for a plasma blaster, not Cervile claws.

  But it did cause the Gwreq to panic and back away, his bloodshot eyes staring down at the gouges.

  “You cut me,” the Gwreq said, stunned.

  “Where the rest?” the Urvein shouted as he rushed towards Etch and the confused Gwreq. “Where more chits?”

  “I don’t have more,” Etch said, widening his stance as he slowly stood upright. He angled his body to give the Urvein the smallest target possible. “That’s all I brought.”

  Etch looked at the roller and frowned.

  “Your friend going to be okay?” Etch asked.

  The Urvein and the Gwreq turned like idiots. It wasn’t a total feint. The second Gwreq had gotten his shoulders wedged in the rear door frame and was thrashing about like a nuft in a trap, so there truly was something to look at. But Etch didn’t care if there was an actual distraction or not, he only needed the junkies to turn around. Which they easily did.

  The sound of sirens filled the air and Etch struck.

  Both hands swiped back and forth, over and over, the claws digging past Urvein fur to draw a good amount of blood. The Gwreq only ended up with a few more sets of gouges, but that seemed to unsettle the junkie enough that he cried out with each hit and leapt out of Etch’s reach.

  The Urvein did the opposite. He spun about and charged Etch at full speed.

  Etch was lifted into the air and flying across the alley once more before he realized the Urvein had even reached him. Junkie or not, the Urvein was still an Urvein.

  Pain exploded in Etch’s back as he collided sideways with the back wall of Pitcher’s. He landed in a crumpled heap and screamed as one of his claws snapped off against the muck-coated plasticrete ground. Etch didn’t have time to look at the wound. The Urvein was on him again and Etch took yet another flight across the alley.

  The sirens were louder and three rollers sped past the mouth of the alley.

  “No… Here,” Etch grunted as he struggled onto his hands and knees.

  Then he was being lifted up by the back of the neck, turned about, and was face to stinking face with the Urvein.

  “Where more chits?” the being snarled.

  Etch gasped at the smell that came from the Urvein’s mouth. A quick glance inside the being’s maw revealed a severe lack of fangs. That was a positive. An Urvein’s canines could tear through steel alloy; they would have ripped Etch apart like butter.

  “No…more…chits,” Etch gasped.

  More flying.

  The back of Etch’s head collided with the alley wall and his vision dimmed as he slid to the ground. He tried to stand, but his legs and arms did not feel like coordinating and he only ended up falling over onto his side, his cheek landing in a pool of muck that smelled surprisingly like berries. Etch knew the pool was not berry juice, but he didn’t quite have the capacity to extricate himself from the muck.

  The Urvein did it for him.

  Once more, Etch was heaved into the air and face to face with the being.

  “Chits!” the Urvein roared.

  “Freeze!” a voice shouted.

  The Urvein appeared confused. His eyes looked down at Etch’s mouth as if he thought Etch had yelled the word. Then something clicked and Etch could have sworn he saw a light come on inside the Urvein’s brain. The being swiveled his massive head on his massive neck and stared down at the six Jafla PD officers that stood there, weapons drawn.

  “Put the halfer down!” one of the officers yelled.

  “Ah, come on,” Etch muttered. He wasn’t exactly surprised that the first PD officer he encountered was a bigot towards halfers. Most officers were.

  “I said put him down!” the officer yelled.

  Etch was thrown to the side as the Urvein charged the officers. They fired their weapons over and over, but the Urvein didn’t drop until he was only a meter away from the almost panicked officers.

  Etch tried to see the rest of the action, but his landing spot was behind an incinerator bin and he only knew it was all over when the second Gwreq stumbled past, his belly wide open from more than a couple of plasma blasts. The being collapsed a couple feet from Etch, his eyes already glazed over in death.

  “Shit,” Etch said.

  “Stay where you are,” an officer ordered as he stepped into Etch’s line of sight. “You want to tell me why you’re here, sir?”

  Human, Etch guessed, but with greenish skin. Etch gave the officer a nod and started to get up.

  “I said stay put!” the officer yelled and Etch realized the officer’s weapon was still drawn. Etch stayed put.

  “I was waiting in my roller,” Etch said. “And these junkies came up all of a sudden. They started—”

  “That roller?” the officer asked, nodding his head back towards the demolished vehicle. “That one there?”

  Three officers were searching the vehicle. One of them straightened up and flashed a blinking holo.

  “This is the roller,” the officer with the holo said.

  “You were in that roller there?” the officer in front of Etch asked. “That’s what you are saying?”

  “Yeah,” Etch replied.

  The officer smiled. “Now, how about you put those claws away and stand up nice and slow. Make one wrong move and I put a hole in your chest. Understood?”

  “Hey, I was the one jumped here,” Etch said. “Why are you hassling me?”

  “That’s not your roller,” the officer said. “It was reported stolen.”

  “Oh… Was it? Huh…”

  Etch tried not to grin as two other officers grabbed him, spun him about, and put his wrists in restraints. The officers dragged him down the alley towards several waiting patrol rollers. A small crowd had gathered and Etch made sure to keep his head down like he was embarrassed for getting arrested, but not too far down so no one could see his face. He needed his face seen.

  He was shoved into the back of a roller and he struggled to get comfortable with his hands behind his back and two fingers throbbing from the pain of losing their claws. Etch closed his eyes and waited out the ride to Jafla Base PD headquarters.

  10.

  The food wasn’t the worst. It wasn’t the best either. But at least it was compatible with his digestive system. You never knew what crap got cooked up in jail kitchens when the staff was having to deal with a multitude of races and species.

  “You gonna eat that carrot?” a Lipian prostitute asked from right next to Etch, her eyes locked onto the very not carrot piece of something that sat untouched on Etch’s plate.

  “Knock yourself out,” Etch said, and groaned as he rubbed his chin. “Too tough for me to chew right now.”

  “Thanks,” the Lipian said and snatched up the carrot thing. She gobbled it down in two bites then pointed her chin at Etch’s face. “The cops do that?”

  “Junkies,” Etch said. “I got jumped in an alley in Mesker District.”

  “You were in an alley in Mesker District?” the Lipian asked, wide-eyed.

  Honest and inquisitive eyes. They went well with her handsome face. She wasn’t a beauty, but she wasn’t ugly either. Average weight and height with tan skin that was speckled with iridescent spots like many Lipians had.
The spots would have sparkled in sunlight, but under the harsh halogen glare in the cell, they simply sat there like tiny, flat discs of dull color.

  “No wonder you got jumped,” the Lipian continued. “You’re lucky to be alive.”

  “I’m new on planet and didn’t know Mesker wasn’t such a hospitable area,” Etch said.

  The Lipian laughed. Hard.

  “Hospitable area!” she guffawed. “Oh, baby, nothing hospitable about Mesker!”

  “Yeah. I got that,” Etch said.

  “Junkies take everything?” the Lipian asked, eyeing the dried out roll on Etch’s plate. He handed it to her and she beamed with glee.

  “Cops got there in time,” Etch said. “Once I’m out, I can get my chits back.”

  A few of the other prisoners stopped talking and eating. They turned and glanced at Etch. Then almost simultaneously they burst out laughing harder than the Lipian had before. That time, the Lipian didn’t join in. She gave Etch a sad, pitying look.

  Etch sighed.

  “I’m not getting my chits back, am I?” he stated.

  “Not a chance in all the Hells,” the Lipian responded around a mouthful of roll. “You had a better chance with the junkies.”

  “Leave the whore be, halfer,” a Jesperian snapped from across the cell.

  Jesperians were a rough and tumble race that looked almost exactly like humans. Eye shape and body proportions tended to set them apart, but most races didn’t see much of a difference. So the Jesperian’s use of “halfer” elicited a few snarky snickers from the rest of the inmates.

  “He’s not bothering me,” the Lipian said. “Poor guy got jumped in Mesker District by some junkies then the cops took his chit stash.”

  “Probably stolen,” the Jesperian said.

  “No, they weren’t,” Etch growled and stood up, his food tray clattering to the floor loud enough to make a few inmates jump and scatter to the edges of the cell. “I earned those chits and they were all I had left.”

  “You earned them? Right,” the Jesperian replied with a chuckle. “How’d you earn them? I hear you’re in here because you stole a roller. You steal rollers, but earn chits like some legit member of society. Sure. That’s exactly what happened.”