by M. D. Cooper
Fitzmiller stood and hustled away.
“Think he really needs to go?” Trey asked.
“Maybe. It’s irrelevant. Right now, he’s using the Link to send a message to whoever he’s working with. Once that’s done, we can proceed.”
Trey’s eyebrows went up. “And why are we letting him do that?”
“Because whoever he’s dealing with is big. Big enough that if he sells them out, he’s as dead as he’ll be if he doesn’t talk to Rexcare. His only hope is getting the third party involved and hoping they’ll help him.”
“So he’s going to lead us to them?” Trey guessed.
“You got it. That’s the only way we’ll get the whole picture. But in the meantime, let’s get that luggage on the bed and search it.”
When Fitzmiller returned a few minutes later, he stood watching them dig through his things.
“There’s nothing here,” Trey said.
“We should check the linings.” Reece reached for the smaller bag, but Trey shook his head.
“I already checked it out. Thoroughly.” He gave her a meaningful look. “There’s nothing here. He must have sent stuff separately, electronically, or it’s all on his head.”
Reece sighed. She’d really wanted to turn up all the info with all the proof. Unfortunately, Fitzmiller was smart enough to keep it from being that easy.
“Where did you send it, Doctor?” Reece demanded.
“I could pretend I’m going to give you useful information, but I’m not.” Fitzmiller said it almost apologetically.
She scowled at him. “Think you’ll be so calm when he twists you into a pretzel?” She gestured at Trey.
“I’m sure I won’t be. And I can’t be certain I won’t say something, but I’ll do my best.”
Dammit dammit dammit.
Reece wasn’t above punching someone or breaking a few fingers, but outright torture was not her thing. Fitzmiller’s placidness turned her off even giving him a good blow to the head.
It would be so much easier if he said nasty things to her or spat at her or something.
She sighed. “Fine. I see this is going to take a while. I’m going to give you the night to think about it. Meanwhile, my partner and I will be resting up. If you aren’t more forthcoming in the morning, we’ll have to do it the hard way.”
She made a show of double-checking the room to make sure it met with her approval. “You’ll be locked in here. I’ll bring you some dinner. Don’t expect anything fancy. Rexcare isn’t paying me to wine and dine you.”
At the door, she snarled, “Don’t even think about doing something stupid.”
Trey looked impressively intimidating as he gave the doctor a hard glare before stalking out behind Reece.
In the corridor, all his aggression disappeared. “Shouldn’t we get it done sooner than later?”
She hitched her head toward his room, on the opposite side of hers. Once inside, she said, “He’s not doing this for money, I think he’s got some sort of altruistic thing going on. Guys like that are almost impossible to break, so we’re going with a different plan. He’ll be gone by morning. I’m going to get a tracker in him, and he’ll lead us right to who he’s working for.”
“You sure? What if he’s just going to some little moon to retire in style?”
“He’s not. Like I said, this is the kind of guy who’s so devoted to his work that he’ll probably die standing in front of a—” she searched her mind for a laboratory term, but that side of science wasn’t her bag, “microscope thing.”
It was a poor finish, and she was a little embarrassed. She took pleasure in delivering cool lines, especially if they involved tough talk and bravado.
“That was really lame,” Trey said quietly. “I thought that was going to be a snappy cutdown and just…nothing.”
“Yeah, sorry. I’ll say something clever next time.”
“You’d better, or I’ll be disappointed.”
She sighed. “Anyway, looks like Fitzmiller’s too smart to carry stuff on him, but all that research has to be uploaded somewhere. That’s what we need to get to.”
“You sure there’s a third party? Maybe he’s planning to use the research on his own.”
“No,” she said. “If my guess is right, he’s onto something big, and it will require some serious equipment and distribution to take to any kind of major production. Besides, Fitzmiller’s a researcher, a scientist. He’s interested in the science, not the business side of it.”
“How will you get a tracker in him? And what else do you just carry around with you?”
She thought about being vague, but he needed to start learning this stuff if they were going to work together. “The tracker is tiny. I’ll put a few of them in his food to make sure he gets one down. It will grab onto his esophagus and embed itself into the tissue. Then it dissolves into his bloodstream and the tags will stick to his optic nerve. If we’re lucky, I might even be able to access his overlays.”
Trey looked both fascinated and horrified. “How long does it last?”
“Once fully implemented, a few weeks. Then the immune system destroys it.”
He let out a low whistle. “That is some next-level mod hacking.”
“Trick of the trade, brought to you by Rexcare. Sometimes it’s convenient to work for a biotech company.”
“I thought life in the Expansion Districts would be simpler.”
“Maybe it is, in other systems. Not in Machete. “
“So basically, I came to the wrong place?” He rubbed his chin.
“Don’t rush to judgment before all the facts are in. You might decide you like it, once you get the feel for it.”
“Or I might hitch up my pants and start anew in another system once it’s all gone wrong.”
She considered that possibility. “It’s not impossible, but do you think it’s likely? The section of space you were born into didn’t please you. No place governed by humans will ever be perfect. Maybe you just suck at accepting reality.”
“Maybe. My mother always said I was too much of an idealist.” His shoulders drooped for a moment, then he heaved out a breath and stood tall. “I guess I’ll give Machete more time before I decide it’s a worthless crapfest.”
“That’s the spirit.” She moved toward the door. “I’ll order some food for Fitzmiller and plant the trackers. Then I’ll be back.”
Dex peeked around the doorway to the bedroom, walking on his back legs and yawning.
She watched the monkey curiously. “You’re just letting him run around in here? I thought you’d leave him in the carrier.”
Dex made a soft squeaking sound, then dropped to all fours and crossed the room. He hopped up on the couch and held a hand out to her.
“Leaving him in the carrier seemed mean. If he’s going to stick around, he has to learn to adapt to travel and staying in places like this.”
“This job isn’t really pet friendly, you know.” She extended her hand, and Dex sniffed it. “I think he’s hungry.”
“He seems to be perpetually hungry. Probably because he’s half-starved.”
“Probably,” she agreed. “Want me to order some food in for him?”
“Nah, I stocked up on some stuff. And I’ll order some more when I decide what I want for dinner.” Trey walked over and scratched the monkey’s head with one finger.
Dex chittered and closed his eyes.
“Right. Well, I’ll keep you posted if by some miracle Fitzmiller is overwhelmed with gratitude when I give him his dinner, and then decides to tell me everything.”
Trey smirked. “I’ll expect not to hear anything, then. But thanks for keeping me apprised.”
On her way out the door, she said, “I guess I have to. Looks like we’ll be stuck together for a while.”
As she entered her own room, she was surprised by how much she didn’t hate that idea.
* * * * *
Reece received the food for Fitzmiller in her room where she laced it
with the trackers. Once satisfied that more than enough would survive, she carried it next door to the doctor. As she’d expected, he had little to say to her when she delivered the tray.
“I assume you tried to contact help here on the station to tell them you were being held against your will,” she said, leaning against the far side of the couch where he sat. “How did that go for you?”
“I’ve worked for the corporations long enough to know how things work,” Fitzmiller muttered. “I didn’t bother.”
“You can contact me if you decide you want to talk, or are having a cardiac arrest or something.” She showed him her Rexcare credential.
He looked at it, scanning it with his overlays. He nodded.
She worried that he wouldn’t eat the food. He might know about trackers. For all she knew, he’d helped develop them. If he didn’t swallow it, she’d have to inject him, and that would surely tip him off. In that case, she’d have to change her plan, because she couldn’t be sure he’d lead her to the information or his buyer. Or partner, or whatever he had going.
But he dug into the pasta and greens salad, then took a deep drink of the iced tea. “I see you’ve done your research. Thank you for providing foods I like.”
She didn’t really want him to be thankful, but it didn’t hurt her cause, either. “I have nothing to gain by starving you. It never works as a coercive technique.”
“Ah. I take it you’re an expert at such things?” He seemed oddly conversational, like this was a pleasant dinner meeting.
He must have already connected with the third party. He could be calm with the knowledge that help was on its way.
Part of her wanted to shake him up, just for the heck of it. She liked playing bad guy, and if not for Fitzmiller, she wouldn’t be out here at the edge of Machete space, about to leave her home system entirely.
But if not for him, and the issues that people like him created, she wouldn’t have a cozy home, a steady paycheck, and the license to carry weapons around.
So she didn’t hold her inconvenience against him personally.
“Any chance you’ll just tell me what’s up with the herbs and your research, and what you’re planning to do with them?” She raised an eyebrow at him.
He sighed and put his fork down. “If I did, is there chance you’d side with me and help me out?”
“We both know that’s not possible. In a system not made for the little guy, I’ve got it made. That’s too valuable a thing to give up, regardless of whatever high ideals you may think you have.”
“That’s what I figured.” He resumed eating. “I’m curious, though. Do you ever wonder what life would be like if corporations didn’t run everything? If there was a centralized government focused on the greater good?”
“We have a centralized government,” Reece replied. “What do you think the Orion Freedom Alliance is?”
Fitzmiller snorted. “We’re over ten years’ travel from New Sol. The expansion districts are run by whichever Orion Guard admirals are assigned to them. You missed the part about a government focused on the greater good.”
“Who would run it?” she asked. “The common person? Grandma Nobody and Uncle Neighbor might have great ideals, but they’d lack the skills and the complex knowledge required. Good intentions would destroy economic and social stability in a matter of months. No, you’d have the most educated, the most successful running things. And how would that be different than it is now?”
Fitzmiller sighed. “It wouldn’t. We’d just be pretending it was.” He took another drink of iced tea.
“So what’s the answer?” she demanded.
“Wish I had one.” He chewed a bite of pasta. “To be honest, I wish I didn’t know everything I do. I wish I could be ignorant and basic, and live without understanding my reality. I’d be happier.”
She frowned. She’d rather he be belligerent or act crazy. Fitzmiller was talking too much sense for her liking. “You’re making me feel kind of crappy about my world.”
He smiled sadly. “Yeah. I get that a lot.”
She had to sell the idea that she was expecting him to still be there to interrogate in the morning. She pointed at him. “Don’t think we’re friends, just because we’re having a conversation. In the morning, I’m going to wring out the answers I need. I live my own reality, and it means doing my job.”
He nodded. “I understand.”
She scowled. He was so placid. It really would be easier if he called her some nasty names or something. Then she could at least yell at him properly, if nothing else. Instead, he had to be reasonable and honest.
What kind of garbage was that?
“Fine,” she said between her teeth. “Have a pleasant night.”
She strode into the corridor, feeling snarly and frustrated. If she were on Akon, she’d hit up the Ringtoad and look for a fight to work off her irritation. On Kolanu Station, there was no such simple solution. She did know the owner of one of the bars, though. A few drinks would take her edge off.
THE ESCAPE
DATE: 03.25.8948 (Adjusted Gregorian)
LOCATION: Kolanu Station, in orbit of Burden, Geha
REGION: Machete System, PED 4B, Orion Freedom Alliance
As far as station bars went, the End of the Line wasn’t half bad. It was clean and served quality liquor, which was good enough for Reece. The End of the Line also offered some really good snack foods and even occasional live entertainment.
When Reece entered, a three-person band was playing. Though it made the bar a bit too loud for her liking, they were pretty good. The singer had a smooth, soulful voice.
Rather than trying to yell to be heard by the bartender, she used her overlays to interface with the ordering system and requested a tumbler of Akonwaran whiskey, on the rocks. All the way out here, the stuff cost three times the normal price, but she didn’t care. Her expenses would be covered by Rexcare.
She didn’t know the bartender who handed her the drink, so she sat listening to the band, sipping her drink. The combination of the alcohol and being blasted by sound soothed her rough edges. The energy of so many people being in one place helped, too.
Realizing she hadn’t had dinner yet, she ordered some bread, along with spiced oil to dip it in. If she didn’t get a little food into her stomach, the alcohol would hit her too hard. She never drank so much that she couldn’t still hold her own in a fight.
The warm bread arrived within minutes and she tore into it, dunking it into the oil and taking a bite. The simple flavors tasted fantastic, and she chewed slowly.
The band went on break, and the sudden change in noise level was a welcome relief. She’d enjoyed the music, but such an extreme level of sound made the casual commotion of many voices seem peaceful.
“This seat taken?” a friendly voice asked.
“Help yourself.”
The guy was nondescript, average in most respects, yet something about the way he moved his hand as he sat on the barstool next to her made her realize that he was the singer.
“Your speaking voice is a lot different than your singing voice,” she told him. “I didn’t recognize you right off.”
“Yeah, these places tend to be dim,” he agreed. “I always figure it’s either to hide some sort or criminal activity, or the identities of the customers.”
“Or both. Actually, I have a friend who owns a bar, and he says it’s just a mood thing. People often feel guilty about drinking in the daytime, and low lighting creates a conducive atmosphere.”
“Conducive,” he said approvingly. “Good word. Hard to rhyme, though.”
That struck her as funny. “Obtrusive…elusive…the juice of…” She frowned, thinking.
“Not so sure about that last one, mate, but the others aren’t bad. Maybe you should write songs.” He smiled, and went from average-looking to kind of cute.
“I’m not the creative sort.” The idea made her chuckle.
“You never know.” The guy stuck out a hand. �
�Ian.”
She shook it. “Reece.”
“I don’t see too many corporate thugs in my line of work. What brings you all the way out here?” His drink arrived in a tall glass and he took a sip.
“I’m not a thug. I’m a fixer.”
“Do you fix a lot of things with those?” He gestured at her thigh holsters. “I’d figure it would go the other way.”
“You’d be surprised,” she said. “Just having them gives me a certain authority that does let me get a lot of things done. Without the need for a fire fight.”
“I see. I guess I should thank you, then, for keeping the system tidy.”
She smiled. She liked flattery just fine, but never took it seriously. “No thanks, needed, citizen. Just doing my job.”
Somehow, she managed to keep a poker face when delivering such a cheesy line. She wondered if it would have made Trey laugh.
Ian grinned. “Can I buy you a drink?”
She lifted her glass. “Already have one.”
“Almost empty, though,” he pointed out.
“My drinks are already paid for, but thanks. Why don’t I buy you one?”
He lifted his own glass. “Just one for me. I have another set to play in a half hour.”
“Do you play here a lot?”
“Yeah. Not too many bands do the space station circuit this far out, and we’ve got a decent fan base here on Kolanu. So we pass through as often as we can. We’ll hang out, play for a month or so, then head on to the next station.”
“I’ll keep an eye out for you next time I come through. What’s your band name, so I can look you up? I liked your music.”
He smiled broadly. “My favorite thing to hear. What’s your connection? I’ll send you a link to our channel where you can download our music.”
Reece activated her overlay’s facial recognition and they lit up with Ian’s identity and network presence. She pinged him and he accepted her connection.
After a few quick eye movements, he said, “Sent.”
