by Jake Bible
Chassfornians were massive creatures. Built like giant mastiffs, but bipedal and at least ten feet tall. Usually with a handler since their default personality was pure rage. Once used as shock troops in the War, they were pretty much turned into pariahs when the fighting ended between the Galactic Fleet and Skrang Alliance since none of the other races wanted to deal with them anymore due to their intense need to kill anything they came in contact with, even supposed allies.
“There’s a Chassfornian in there?” Etch asked. “Screw that.”
“Sham’s good,” Guska insisted. “Unless you start trouble. Don’t start trouble.”
“Don’t plan on it,” Etch said. He looked back up at the sign. “Why are we here? Do you live above it or something?”
“Uh…no,” Guska said and pulled open the door, yanking Etch inside with her.
“Then why are we…?”
Etch let the question drop as he looked quickly about the diner. It was filled close to capacity with beings of almost all known races and species. No one even glanced his way. Except for the Leforian sitting in the corner booth at the far back of the diner.
The same Leforian from the cell.
“Not exactly feeling like this is a coincidence,” Etch said.
“Sorry,” Guska apologized. “She wanted to meet you and she paid me a lot of chits to get you here. A lot.”
“So that staying with you line was a bunch of crap, huh?”
“What? No! You can stay with me. My landlord is a total creeper.”
“This is not cool, Guska.”
“Stop worrying. This is going to be good for you. Especially if you’re good with tiles. That’s what she needs.”
“How would she know I play tiles?” Etch asked.
Guska scrunched up her face then tapped her ear.
“She was listening to our entire conversation over the comm,” Etch said. “Great. She tell you to bring me here before or after she heard I play tiles?”
“She said she wanted to thank you for finding the snitch. Then she said she’d double the chits once she heard you play tiles,” Guska said then smiled as wide as her face would allow. “Come on. This is a good thing!”
Etch agreed one hundred percent, but didn’t say that out loud. It was a good thing. Exactly the good thing he needed and exactly the good thing he knew McDade had hoped would happen by having him locked up in jail.
He squared himself and tried to look like a mix of annoyed, apprehensive, and dangerous at the same time. Guska giggled which didn’t exactly put him at ease. He let her drag him through the diner to the corner booth and the waiting Leforian.
12.
“Order whatever you like,” the Leforian said.
“Can I order your name?” Etch asked.
The Leforian laughed and patted him on the shoulder with her lower left hand.
“They call me Dark,” the Leforian said.
“Dark?”
“Dark.”
“That’s a nickname, right?” Etch asked. “Doesn’t sound very Leforian.”
“Oh? And what does sound Leforian?” Dark asked.
“Uh… Dark is good,” Etch said.
“Yeah. It is.”
Etch waved his wrist over the sensor built into the table and a holo of the menu came up. He studied it for a minute then waved it away. A waitress appeared in half a second, her eyes wide and fearful as she tried not to keep glancing at Dark, but failed miserably.
“What can I getcha?” she asked Etch.
The waitress was Tcherian, a humanoid chameleon race that could alter their skin and scales in order to blend in with any surrounding. Naked, they could become completely invisible. The waitress looked like she wanted to do just that, become invisible.
“How’s the creekle snake burger?” Etch asked. “I had creekle snake back in the day and liked it, but it was locally cooked by this old woman that had probably been cooking creekle snake for centuries.”
“Zhi loves creekle snake,” the waitress said.
“His name is on the place, so I guess he’d know,” Etch said. “I’ll take a burger and whatever starch of the day. I don’t care what it is. And tea. Hot.”
“Hot tea? With a burger?” the waitress asked.
“The man asked for hot tea,” Dark said. Her voice was calm, almost soothing, but the waitress nearly jumped out of her skin. “Get the man hot tea.”
“Whatever is handy,” Etch said. “I’ll drink any tea.”
“Creekle burger with mash and hot tea,” the waitress said, repeating the order so the comm would relay it back to the kitchen. “That’ll be up in a few minutes.”
“Tea now,” Dark said.
“When it’s not a bother,” Etch added. “Thank you…”
The waitress looked down at her chest and frowned. “Oh, I must have left my name tag back on the counter.”
She hurried off without giving her name.
“I didn’t get to put in my order,” Guska said.
“No. You didn’t,” Dark replied and turned to stare at the Lipian.
Guska squirmed for a bit then scooted out of the booth, straightened her clothes, and nodded towards a set of doors.
“Gonna pee and make some calls,” she said like it was the best idea she’d ever had.
Etch waited for her to go then leaned forward and smiled at Dark. It was a weak smile, a fake smile, intended to show faux confidence.
“Guska said this was neutral territory,” Etch said. “There’s a Chassfornian in the back or something to keep the peace here. But that waitress sure didn’t think you were going to stay peaceful. You had her pissing her britches.”
“That’s her problem, not mine,” Dark said.
“You’re not worried about the Chassfornian? What’s his name? Sham?”
“Sham only comes out if it is truly necessary,” Dark said. “When fools throw down and try to fight it out here in the diner. Just being me is not offense enough to warrant Sham making an appearance.”
“You must be well known, and not in a good way, if that waitress was so scared of you,” Etch said.
“Are you scared of me, Etch Knowles?” Dark asked. “Are you afraid this is all a setup and I plan on having you killed?”
“This is all a setup, but I don’t think you want me dead,” Etch said. “Guska told me you doubled her finder’s fee once you heard I play tiles. Why’s that?”
“I’m in need of a tile player,” Dark said. “Among other things. Do you do other things? Or are you simply a one trick nuft?”
“I have quite a few talents,” Etch said, but didn’t elaborate.
“You said back in the day,” Dark said. “What day would that be? Galactic Fleet? You infantry? Marines? Intelligence, maybe?”
“Why maybe?”
“You don’t carry yourself like ex-Intelligence,” Dark said and snorted. “They never get rid of that smug attitude like they know all the secrets of the universe.”
“No shit,” Etch said and snorted too. “Stuck-up bastards.”
“So…?”
“Marines,” Etch said. “Galactic Fleet Marines, Punch Division.”
“Demolitions? Impressive.”
“Some demolitions. Not much,” Etch said. “That’s a myth that Punch allowed to grow. Our job was to come at the enemy lines sideways and punch a hole in their defenses. Make a leak in the seal, so to say. We used explosives here and there, but mostly it was us and our H16s refusing to give up, give in, or die.”
“I admire that,” Dark said. “A never-quit attitude will get you far in life.”
“Maybe,” Etch said and shrugged. “So far it has gotten me to Jafla Base and into jail.”
“You’re not in jail now,” Dark said.
“Only because the surveillance infrastructure in Mesker District is subpar,” Etch said. “In other words—”
“You got lucky,” Dark finished for him. “Don’t knock luck, Etch. Luck is your best friend, especially when playing tiles.”<
br />
“I’m more a skill guy than luck guy at the table,” Etch said.
“Luck helps.”
Etch shrugged again. “Can’t argue with that. Luck does help.”
The waitress arrived with the tea and was gone before the cup and saucer were barely on the table.
“Why were you in the holding cell?” Etch asked as he blew the steam from the cup and stared across the table at Dark. “I get the impression you don’t get picked up for little shit around here. Not sensing a petty crook vibe from you, Dark. What’s the story?”
“I had you brought here so I could ask the questions,” Dark stated.
“Plans change and life is chaos,” Etch replied.
Dark smiled.
“No, really, why were you in the holding cell?” Etch asked, sipping his tea. He winced. Still too hot. “And how did you get out faster than me? They dumped my ass pretty damn fast, but you were here waiting for me.”
“I was in there to prove a point,” Dark said.
“The Jesperian snitch?”
“The Jesperian snitch. He’s far from the only one, but I showed that entire holding cell how and where to look if they suspected a plant was in with them. Helps keep the chatter and rumors from being whispered too much in those cells.”
“All you need is one set of loose lips to think they’re talking safely because comms are jammed in holding cells and days, weeks, months of planning goes to shit.”
Dark nodded. “Now you get it.”
“Couldn’t you send one of your underlings? I assume you have underlings.”
“I have underlings.”
“Why not send one of them to make the point?”
“Because I was sent to make the point.”
Etch’s eyebrows rose.
“We all have our bosses, Etch Knowles,” Dark said as she turned her head and watched the waitress approach with Etch’s food. “My boss wanted me to make the point personally so word would spread that much faster.”
The waitress set the plate down, but before she could retreat, Dark grabbed her by the wrist. A few heads in the diner turned, but quickly looked the other way.
“I’ll have a burger too,” Dark said. “Extra rare. No side. No condiments. Burger and bun. That’s it. Can you handle that, Tortia?”
The waitress gasped and looked like she was going to cry.
“It’s your third week,” Dark said. “I learn all the new waitstaff’s names by the end of their first week. You don’t have to keep taking your name tag off every time one of us comes in here.”
“I don’t… I…” Tortia stammered so hard that it looked like she was having a small seizure in her jaw. “I don’t know what…you mean.”
“Lie to me again and that son of yours won’t make it home one day after school,” Dark said and let go. “Burger. Extra rare. Bun only. No side.”
Tortia nodded over and over as she rushed out of the dining room and back into the kitchen.
“That’s not gonna bring out Sham?” Etch asked.
“Probably not,” Dark said and relaxed into the booth seat once again.
“Huh,” Etch said and took a bite of his burger. He paused, looked down at the food, then grinned so wide that half of what he’d just put in his mouth almost came tumbling out. “This is fucking good.”
“Everyone loves Zhi’s,” Dark said.
Etch finished chewing and set the burger down. “Why am I here? You wanted to ask me questions, so ask.”
“You built yourself a solid reputation in the middle-level games,” Dark said and held up two hands. “Don’t ask how I know, I just do. I have people that learn things for me when I needed things learned fast.” She tapped at her left earhole. “They have been catching me up.”
“Okay. Fair enough. Yeah, I have a solid rep in the mid-level games. I was close to getting a rep in the upper games, but shit went down and I lost that momentum.”
“Bad bust,” Dark said. “Good friends.”
“Excuse me?” Etch asked, about to take another bite. “What does that mean?”
“You survived a serious beating by the cops,” Dark said. “That’s something right there. Then you get set free and manage to hustle some legal credits out of the authorities too? Who were you blowing to make that happen?”
“The cops were wrong to bust that joint,” Etch said then rolled his eyes. “Well, they were right to do it, but they handled it all wrong. PR nightmare for Ballyway politicians since a couple of the dead ended up being spoiled rich brats from families that had a lot of political pull to make life miserable for those responsible. I happened to catch some crumbs from the fallout, that’s all. Didn’t have to blow a single being.”
“Lucky you,” Dark said. “Again.”
“No, not luck,” Etch said, a hard tone in his voice. He watched with pleasure as the tone made Dark tense. “Like I said, I lost all my momentum. Did I get a chunk of credits out of it? Yes. Credits I cashed out at a loss for hard currency. Currency that is now in the hands of the Jafla Base PD. Not feeling too lucky when all my chits are gone and now it doesn’t matter what class of tile game I want to play in because I’m not playing shit without any Eight Million Gods damn chits!”
Dark’s eyes widened and she leaned back, crossing all four arms.
“Not luck,” Dark said. “Gonads. Big ones. They might be taking all the blood that’s supposed to go to your brain, though.”
“Oh? And why the fuck is that?” Etch snapped.
“Because talking like that is one way to end up getting shoved in a barrel of acid and dissolved away into nothing,” Dark said. “No one will mourn you because there will be nothing left to mourn.”
Etch took his bite, chewed, swallowed, took another bite, chewed that, swallowed that, then set the rest of his burger down. He wiped his mouth with his napkin, wadded that up, and threw it on the table as he stood.
“Thanks for the burger,” Etch said. “I assume it’s on you since you know I can’t pay.”
Etch waited.
“Yeah, the burger is on me,” Dark said.
“Great. I appreciate it. I feel bad for not eating it all, especially since it is damn fantastic, but I think it’s time for me to go. Have a good one, Dark. Maybe I’ll see you around sometime.”
“Sit your ass down, Knowles,” Dark said. “We aren’t done talking.”
“I am,” Etch said.
He turned to leave, but saw the doorway at the front of the diner blocked by four thugs of various races. None of them were under six feet and all of them weighed twice what Etch did.
“I have a feeling I’m about to meet Sham,” Etch said over his shoulder to Dark.
“Sit down, Knowles,” Dark said. “I mean it. They won’t make trouble inside here, but they will make trouble once you leave.”
“Oh, I plan on making a lot of trouble inside here,” Etch said. “I’m about to crap myself thinking of coming face to face with a Chassfornian again, but I don’t play for people that threaten to kill me.” He nodded at the thugs. “And since I’m going to either get the shit kicked out of me yet again or I’m going to end up in one of your acid barrels, I might as well play the Chassfornian card.”
“Tile,” Dark said.
“What?”
“Chassfornian tile,” Dark said. “You play tiles, not cards.”
“It’s an old expression,” Etch said.
“I know. But I want to keep you focused on the job at hand which is you playing tiles for me,” Dark said. “Please sit down, Etch Knowles. I’m sorry I threatened you.”
Etch turned slowly, reluctant to put his back to the thugs, but he needed to portray the size of gonads that Dark expected him to be carrying. Etch had to admit that they were huge gonads. Had to be in GV undercover.
“Don’t hear apologies like that much from your lot,” Etch said. He hesitated as Dark stared at him. Then he sat down and pulled his plate back to him. “Give me your pitch.”
“Thank you,” Dark said
. “The pitch is this…”
Dark talked for close to an hour and Etch listened to every word. All the while, Etch had to keep himself from freaking out. Dark was offering him exactly what he needed and it took all his strength not to grin like a kid opening birthday present after birthday present.
Guska appeared almost on cue when Dark and Etch shook hands and the meeting was over.
“Ready to go?” she asked, all chipper smiles and wiggling hips. “I am beat and really need to take a sonic and get some sleep before tonight.”
“You’ll contact me when the first game is ready?” Etch asked Dark.
“I’ll have someone pick you up tonight,” Dark said. “You’re on the payroll as of this second. Be ready.”
“I’m always ready,” Etch said.
“I see that,” Dark replied.
Tortia appeared with Dark’s burger on a bun only. She’d been waiting by the counter to deliver it, obviously afraid to interrupt Etch and Dark’s conversation. Dark didn’t even glance at the waitress as she picked up the burger and began to chow down, hunks of meat and bun falling from between her clicking mandibles. Tortia retreated as fast as possible.
“My place is tiny, so we’ll have to share the bed,” Guska said, escorting Etch away from Dark’s table and out of the diner. The thugs had sat back down and gave Etch the hard stare the entire way. “You don’t mind sharing a bed, do you?”
“No. I don’t mind,” Etch said. He’d have slept on broken glass and loved it, he was that pleased with how the meeting turned out. “We’ll make do.”
“We sure will!” Guska chirped.
13.
“You don’t have to sleep on the couch every time,” Mess’a said as she brought a mug of hot caff over to Tipo who was stretching and working the kinks out of his everywhere. “There’s plenty of room in—”
“Couch is fine, Mess’a, thank you,” Tipo said, taking the mug from the less than healthy looking Groshnel. “How’d you sleep?”
“Great,” Mess’a said, avoiding eye contact with Tipo. “Like a baby.”
“Liar,” Tipo said. He sipped the caff and grimaced.
“Too hot?” Mess’a asked.
“Nope. Just perfect,” Tipo said.
