“May I speak with you alone for a second, Mike?” Lewis asked and got up. Neither Heckman nor Ratkins protested, so Lewis and Mike stepped into the hallway.
“Why’s it necessary for him to know?”
“You haven’t read Ratkins’ profile yet, have you?” Lewis asked. Mike shook his head. “Ratkins’ family was murdered when he was nothing but a big kid. He alone brought the men to justice. He has a sister who saw everything. She wasn’t as strong as Ratkins and she was very young. When she got into trouble, things collapsed for Ratkins and he ended up in prison. The same one you were recently released from, actually. Ratkins’ release was bought by a bunch of bounty hunters, but no one has ever found out why. Ratkins and you share something even though he’ll never admit it. He might be the only one who understands the consequences of doing time at that place. The implications it has.”
Mike tried to digest the information and pictured himself grow as cold and lonesome as the rumors told of Ratkins. “I don’t really feel like baring my soul to this guy, Lewis.”
“Then keep it on a need to know basis.”
Mike’s brain worked overtime as he tried to figure out what would suffice. In the end, Mike figured that if Ratkins had been in Delta, then he would know what questions to ask to get to what was relevant.
Three days had gone by and Ratkins was, as Mike had expected, a very quiet and contemplating man. Their conversations revolved around work, but Ratkins had pumped Mike for details about his stay in Delta. Or at least the episodes up until the physician had taken over. Mike smiled to himself as he once again considered himself lucky to have met the physician—a strangely unsympathetic man who in some areas made Ratkins seem like a sociable and playful puppy. Nothing could be further from the image Mike had gotten of the man over the past few days, though.
But the rumors of Ratkins were impressive, and Mike had the opportunity to see for himself whether the rumors were true. In a way, he felt blessed. Privileged, even. Heckman had avowed Ratkins’ loyalty even though rumors had told a different story. Brad’s tale of people who’d been in the business so long that even their loyalty was for sale seemed to fit better. After having trusted Cecil with his life, Mike wasn’t thrilled about the prospect of ever having to trust someone with his life again. Why should Ratkins be any different? Why should anyone give a shit about any life but their own?
Keelan’s voice sounded in his head. If you don’t intend on keeping your word, don’t give it.
The gnawing doubt crept into Mike once again, and he felt it like a knife being twisted in a wound. Had Mike betrayed a man who was trying to keep his word? Or was it all a part of Rainer’s mind-fuck?
Lost in thought, Mike let his eyes roam the page he was supposed to be reading, but then his mind registered a bounty. His eyes stopped by a picture, and it took a moment for his brain to catch up.
He gasped and reread the text again and again. Escaped convict. Bounty at fifty-thousand credits.
“What gets you out the chair so quickly?”
Mike jumped at the sound of Ratkins’ voice and turned to find him leaning relaxed against the doorframe with a cup of coffee in his hand. “Keelan. He escaped.”
Ratkins raised his brows and walked to Mike’s side. “And Keelan is... from the same prison as you,” Ratkins noted after having looked at the screen.
“He won me... killed someone the day I got in.”
“The auction?” Ratkins asked.
For the first time since Mike had set foot on Ratkins’ ship the weathered bounty hunter showed emotion. However briefly.
Mike nodded and looked at the screen again.
“Something you forgot to tell me?” Ratkins continued. “I heard about Rainer, I don’t remember hearing about this guy Keelan.”
“I betrayed him,” Mike said, quietly.
“Betrayed!” Ratkins exclaimed. “Come here!” Mike got to his feet, quickly, and followed Ratkins to the common area where Ratkins stopped and turned. He looked more grim than usual. “Explain. And this time I want every last damn detail!”
Mike sank into a chair and began his tale. From how Keelan had murdered someone at the auction to get him, to their deal and price for Keelan to protect Mike, to how Rainer had schemed to remove Keelan, and to that disastrous day where Mike had been made aware of Rainer’s plot after having told the guards of Keelan’s escape plans.
Ratkins stood calmly and listened, and his face gave no hints as to what he actually thought about the situation. He sipped his coffee while Mike got to spill every secret of his soul.
“Let me see if I understand this correctly.” Ratkins sat down opposite Mike and made himself comfortable before locking gazes with him. “You end up with a killer that even Rainer feared, and then you go ahead and teach him what you learned as a soldier and as a mercenary?” Ratkins asked calmly. Mike nodded but sensed Ratkins’ calmness was the prelude to a storm. “What the hell were you thinking?” Ratkins bellowed, and Mike jumped. “And then you buy a guy like the physician out?”
“The physician secured my freedom. I just gave him the connections to do so!” Mike said.
“That’s the same crap-slapping thing! Do you even know who or what the physician is?”
“Slave trainer from Panata,” Mike said.
Ratkins rapped his fingers on the table. “Yeah. A very successful one. Did it ever occur to you he could be working with Pierre? Does Lewis know all of this?”
“Yeah, Lewis knows. The physician gave us some of the information you and I are working with. And they’ve all been cross-referenced with everything from here to the Glaciers. Even SWIS verified them.”
“SWIS? Okay, the Species’ Intelligence Agency is a trustworthy source,” Ratkins said, more relaxed, and leaned back in his seat. “But I still want a detailed description of how much you managed to teach this guy and how smart that meathead really is.”
“That meathead is very smart. Intelligent, resourceful, and a sponge when it comes to learning something new, actually. Especially weapons, murder, and destruction, and... I taught him the theories behind flying a ship, and he busted out of Delta by stealing a federal prison transporter, Ratkins. He knocked over a skiff and used the monstrosity of a prison transporter to maneuver it into place so they couldn’t close the outer hangar doors to equalize pressure. He’s gotta be at least one frequency radius out before they could manage to move the skiff. Not to mention his negotiation skills, because how in the blue balls of hell did he manage to persuade them to open the hangar doors in the first place?”
Ratkins stared at Mike for what seemed like ages. “He’s not our target, Mike. We have Pierre and—”
“But I’m his,” Mike said meagerly. He didn’t even try to hide his fear. Ratkins once again showed emotions, and this time they seemed to mirror Mike’s.
“So we’re up against an intelligent, resourceful, elite-trained... Mike, dammit!”
“I trusted him.” Mike looked at his wringing hands.
“Apparently not enough! If you had, you would also know that Rainer pulls every string!”
“Yes, I do now! I’m not exactly proud of having betrayed Keelan—”
“A murderer! You’re sorry you betrayed a murderer who kept you alive to learn exactly what he’s used your knowledge to accomplish! To escape! How many families are going to get slaughtered now?”
If Lewis hadn’t told Mike about Ratkins’ past, then this sentence wouldn’t have stood out to Mike. But Ratkins had just revealed his weakness—the family that was taken from him as a young man.
“I don’t know, Ratkins. I don’t know why I agreed to teach him. It seemed the only way... that or end up as something left by the big doors for the guards to dispose of. Or worse. And I even had a taste of what that worse would be! No, you know what? I’m not going to apologize, not anymore. No one has any idea of what I’ve been through, and they can’t know unless they’ve tried it themselves. I screwed up when I exposed Keelan! I was too broken to see it,
to believe in anyone or anything. They’d taken everything from me. Everything, so when someone offered me a way out, you better fucking believe I accepted!”
Silence dominated the room while Ratkins observed Mike. “Wonder if Keelan will see it that way?”
Mike looked away, his eyes stinging—partly from the relief of being out of the hell pit and partly because he hated feeling so weak. He’d failed Keelan, not the other way around, and for every day that went by he felt that knowledge become a heavier and heavier burden.
“Okay, listen up, Kiddo.” Ratkins moved forward. “It’s no use pointing fingers here, but if he finds you, we need a plan B.”
“We won’t see him coming, Ratkins.” Mike looked up hesitantly. Ratkins seemed more curious than accusing. “He was trained in prison. His senses were honed in prison. The one place where you don’t clock out. Where the training sessions never end.”
“And yet Rainer managed to ambush him. We have more experience out here than Keelan. Home field advantage. Let’s use that,” Ratkins said. Mike thought he saw sincerity in Ratkins’ eyes.
Now the question remaining was whether or not he dared trust Ratkins with his life.
Chapter Twelve
Ratkins barged through the door to Mike’s room. “Up, we got a lead!”
Mike stumbled out of bed, and Ratkins left the room. Moments later Mike stood fully dressed in the cockpit.
“Soldier, figures you can get out of bed in no time,” Ratkins mumbled as he handed Mike a mug of coffee.
“Thanks.” Mike tried to focus on the screen while running a hand through his messy hair. He regretted it immediately as his fingers got caught in a snag.
“SWIS found a retinal profile on Cecil... planet Silliton.”
“Pierre, too?”
“Nope, him they’re still searching for,” Ratkins said. Mike blew at his coffee as he read the information on the screen, but something in the margin caught his attention. “You really are alert, huh? Keelan hasn’t been seen anywhere. He’s from Verion four, you know.”
“I figured as much,” Mike said, quietly.
Ratkins got out of the chair. “Come on, take my place. I found his list of crimes and bio. Take a look.”
“What about the trace on Silliton? On Cecil?”
“You have something to sort out before we land. You have two weeks.” Ratkins left the cockpit. Mike stared after him, but then nodded.
Yeah, Ratkins understood, but how well?
In many ways, the background check on Keelan had a relaxing effect on Mike. He felt that he understood him a bit better, but where the man could come across morals like what he’d hinted about in Delta, he still didn’t know. If he’d ever had them. The doubt still gnawed at Mike. Whether it was his guilty conscience trying to convince him that Keelan hadn’t betrayed him, he didn’t know. He finally managed to push the thought and feelings aside so that he and Ratkins could plan and learn each other’s strategies.
The nervousness was in place as Mike sat in the co-pilot seat and waited for the landing. Silliton looked like itself, lush and full of purple mountains, but somewhere on the horizon, the spaceport city seemed to have grown.
Ratkins turned to face him once they’d landed. “We need you in your costume.”
Mike unbuckled and followed Ratkins from the cockpit. Over the past couple of weeks, Ratkins had made a disguise, but Mike still didn’t know how it had turned out.
“We have two options.” Ratkins held up two hangers.
“What?” Mike exclaimed. “You are not dressing me up as a woman!”
“Why not? Cecil won’t look at a woman and expect her to be you.”
“But I don’t look like a woman!” Mike felt his masculinity smeared all over the floor, but Ratkins sent him a winner’s smile.
“You’re pretty, high cheekbones, and long eyelashes—”
“You need feminine company before you and I take off again!” Mike said, ignoring Ratkins batting his eyes at him. Ratkins boomed with laughter, but Mike didn’t find anything amusing about his comment. “And where would I hide my gun? In my non-existing cleavage?”
Ratkins continued to chuckle as he rummaged through a box to pull out a garter-belt-slash-weapon-holster. Mike’s expression must have been what made Ratkins give up because he finally sighed and dropped the garter belt back into the box.
“Okay. Gotta turn you into an ugly man instead then.”
“Anything but that red, skimpy thing, and I’m happy.” Mike took a seat on the stool.
After two long hours, Mike could get up and look himself in the mirror.
“Fucking hell,” Mike muttered.
“Remember your hat, ugly.” Ratkins tossed him a thoroughly worn hat. Mike caught the thing, and a cloud of dust saturated the air around him. Mike coughed and flayed his arms as he quickly evacuated Ratkins’ room to escape the dust.
“And smelling bad is part of the costume?”
“Yep, sweat, piss, and cheap scented toilet water, don’t forget to limp on your right leg.”
Mike looked at Ratkins while practicing to breathe through his mouth. “Too late to choose the skanky outfit?” Mike asked. Ratkins sent him a blank stare. “Okay, okay, I’m coming.”
They concealed their weapons, left the ship, and walked the streets of Silliton. They’d planned what areas to search as they walked on each side of the streets. All reflective surfaces gave them an idea of the other one’s whereabouts, but they also had their earpieces. It had been a difficult task to find a frequency that Cecil didn’t have the equipment to crack, but Spec Edit twelve had in conjunction with the other Spec Edits cleared a military channel for them, which had also called for a new chip in their earpieces.
Mike finally felt comfortable in the disguise. It was a first for him to be stuffed so thoroughly. He even had contact lenses with new retina profiles and fake facial parts glued to his skin. His voice was masked by a distortion box glued to his throat and hidden behind layers of clothes.
A man came barging from a shop and walked right into Mike. “Move it!” the man sneered, and Mike made an irritable noise while trying to hide his surprise.
It was Cecil.
A quick look Ratkins’ way and the signal for capture was given.
“Get a fucking grip, pal! You’re not the only one on the streets, you know!” Mike scoffed. Cecil turned to face Mike with a dangerous glare in his eyes. “What, you looking for trouble, brute?” Mike threw out his arms with so much gusto that any limp drunkard would have knocked himself out of balance.
Cecil fell for it and attacked, and Mike cherished the stuffing of his costume even more as it took the majority of the blunt impact from Cecil’s punches to Mike’s abdomen. A punch to the face sent Mike wobbling down the street, but he kept a firm hold on Cecil who fell to the ground with him.
“What the hell?” Cecil mumbled, looking at his hand from where a limp piece of fake cheek dangled.
Mike smiled at him mischievously. He heard the sound of a gun being cocked and saw Ratkins hold the cold muzzle to Cecil’s cheek. Cecil froze and looked astonished at Mike.
“Cecil Hallett, you are hereby taken into our custody,” Ratkins said.
Cecil turned quickly while raising a hand and knocking Ratkins’ gun away from his face, but Ratkins had a gun in his other hand as well, and Cecil quickly found himself staring into the muzzle of that instead. “You’re good,” Cecil said, calmly.
“Yeah,” Ratkins said with a glint in his eye that Mike had never seen before.
Mike got to his feet and pulled out a gun. “Seen Pierre lately? Turncoat.”
Cecil looked at him angrily, but he still didn’t seem to have recognized Mike under Ratkins’ clever disguise. Mike smiled sardonically and pointed his gun at him so Ratkins could cuff him.
“Your face is pretty unsymmetrical, Kiddo.” Ratkins handed him the fake skin piece.
“What the hell would you suspect from a blow like that?” Mike tried to plaster the piece
back onto his face, but the adhesive had worn, and the skin was deformed from the impact. Luckily the skin piece had fallen off instead and thus softened the blow. Maybe he wouldn’t even get a black eye.
Mike’s mood had turned for the better, and they transported Cecil back to the ship immediately.
Cecil had a spiteful smile on his face as they attached him to a chair. “Do you really think I’m alone?”
“Do you think we are?” Mike took the wig, skin pieces, and distortion box off.
Cecil’s smile vanished. “Mike?”
“Oh, so you do remember me. You didn’t just forget about me after having sent me off to the Pit?” Even though Mike was happy they’d caught Cecil, the feelings brought about by the reunion were hard to suppress, and right then he feared that they’d overpower him. Mike took a quick step toward Cecil, but Ratkins had apparently anticipated it and stepped forward to grab Mike’s arm.
Mike looked at Ratkins, who shook his head slowly.
“Go up, check in, and call in our window for departure.”
“Okay.” Mike left for the stairs.
“You seem familiar. Who are you?” he heard Cecil ask.
“Ratkins. Dave Ratkins.”
“Ah, I’ve heard of you. You usually collect big bounties. You’re good, I’ve heard that, too. And witnessed it today. I also heard that money is more important.”
Silence followed, and Mike hesitated at the top of the stairs, as something in Cecil’s tone indicated that the sentence wasn’t finished.
“I was on my way to pick up my last earnings. We could split them. If you just unt—”
A loud slap and an angry roar sounded, and Mike almost jumped away from the hatch. Ratkins’ footsteps sounded shortly after, but Mike wasn’t quick enough to get from the hatch to the cockpit.
Ratkins stopped halfway through the hatch and stared at him. “You don’t trust me.”
“I don’t trust Cecil,” Mike said, still considering whether there was any truth in what Ratkins had said.
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