by Rolf Nelson
“Ah, I see… Well, his ship flies, and he’s been known to haul things that the authorities, uh, frown on. Just trying to make a living, you understand…”
“Aren’t we all,” Skelton nodded and flashes a smile knowingly. “Glad to make you acquaintance. Always good to know people that can… move things for me. In fact, I got a load of-”
“Right now the ship is, um, not available for a little while. Customs ships were getting a little close, had to split the team up.”
“Gotcha. So, short or long? Just a bunk, or need to earn a little cash? You’d be just the guy to-”
“No work, just laying low for a bit, then plan to get over to South Gamma or West Beta continent on a low profile flight if you know of one. We can pay, or work our way over, if needed.”
“Not planning on sending anything that way right now, but let me check on a few things. Sure you don’t need some work? Easy pay, shouldn’t need much muscle.” Kaminski shook his head, and Skelton shrugged it off. “Suit yourself. Open offer.”
Memories
Kaminski and Allonia relaxed in the physical (though likely monitored) security “honeymoon suite,” four floors up and a few blocks away from Skelton’s office, having been lead there by Marcus, who finally sounded ready to talk.
“So, how’d you two meet?”
“We were on the same ship together for a little while,” Kaminski responded briefly.
“Ah, captive audience, eh?”
“Not really. Just worked out well. She’s got a lot of potential.”
“Potential?” Allonia said dryly. “Just potential?”
“Well, not just potential, of course,” he added hastily while Marcus chuckled.
“Tied down or just teamed up?”
“Tied the knot a little while ago.”
“Really? Didn’t figure you for the type. Limits your options.”
“But she’s rich. Owns a planet, sort of,” Kaminski joked.
“Ah, that makes more sense. Cute, young, and rich is worth considering.”
“Excellent shot, too.”
“Even better. Hey, if you ever get tired of this bum, you know where to find me,” Marcus said with a playful grin. “What sort of business you doing these days, Kam? Or are you rich enough to retire?”
Kaminski didn’t answer immediately, and when he did, he spoke slowly, thoughtfully. “Not really sure. Things been changing a lot… Was a soldier, still on the roster of a Plataean unit.”
“Oh. Wow. Yeah, I’d believe that… but… you don’t seem like the type to commit desertion, so how are you, uh…” Marcus trails off awkwardly, torn between curiosity and discretion.
Kaminski shrugged. “No, nothing like that. Whole unit is just… on leave, I guess you could say. Had a rough patch, needed some serious R&R.”
“You needing a break from action? Must have been bad. I know re-gen is painful. Itches all the time.”
“Yeah, I hear you. Been through it more of it than I care to think about,” Kaminski agreed, tone noncommittal.
“Really? You always managed to avoid getting hurt bad, just did damage to the other guys.” He flashed a wide grin at Allonia. “I tell you what – this is one guy you don’t want to get angry at you. I’ve seen him fight, and he was starting to get something of a rep when he disappeared after saving my butt settling a dispute.”
“It was just a stupid brawl, people almost died there for nothing, Marcus.”
“Oh, no, it was a lot more than that, they left the area after that… hey, got any of these?” He rolled up his shirt sleeve, revealing the round pucker of a well-healed bullet-hole scar. “They managed to forget plastic surgery on this one when they patched up my face after you dropped me off. Thanks a million for that. Not sure anyone else would have pulled me out. Helped my rep a bit to have been in that and live through it… How ‘bout this?” He lifts his shirt a bit to reveal the white crease of a not-very-old cut, about seven centimeters long, on his side. “Got that on a bad day…. What was your worst day since you vanished? Anything to beat that?” His tone was halfway between bragging, and trying to prompt a little more information from his friend.
Kaminski face darkened, his eyes were unfocused and downcast. At length, he spoke. “It was in a fight. I felt my spear tip hitting the back of yet another uncounted skull, watched her face go blank as it turned off, realized the tip was getting dull from all the bone it was getting jammed into, and being happy and sick beyond care. Happy that she would kill no more, that I was one death closer to the end of the insanity. Sick that I was a moment to slow, because her blade was still buried deep in the guts of the man standing next to me, a friend I helped train. Happy that it wasn’t me trying to plug a hole that was just too big, too far from aid. Sad that I couldn’t kill her more slowly for the hopeful kid she’d just snuffed out, and hating myself for wanting such a thing….” He looked up, face blank. “But I’m better now… most days… The dead don’t always stay dead in your dreams… and the living don’t always understand.”
He looked up at Allonia and smiled faintly. “Some do.” She smiled back, wistfully, squeezed his shoulder gently. “I had someone I needed to get back to, even if that meant wading through a mountain range of corpses. In the end we had to make a hill of them. I had to kill the women and old men to survive long enough to fight the soldiers who wanted to destroy us so badly. At that point I realized that was the difference. I cared about what I did and who got hurt, knew it was terrible but necessary, and that she could live by simply walking away. She wanted to kill because she thought it was right, because her messiah told her to, and she had no more thought for the man she’d just gutted than she would for a fly. Except that she’d not think killing a fly was doing God’s work. So I let myself take joy in killing all that opposed us, and would let God sort me out later…. That was my worst day.”
Marcus looked at him, dimmest glimmer of realization dawning on his unsophisticated brain. His voice is quiet when he finally spoke. “Holy crap, Kam.”
Allonia looked at Marcus. “Dustbowl changed everything. And everyone.”
His confusion was obvious. “What do you…? I mean, I’ve heard some rumors, but he…? You? I don’t really follow the networks, but I’d heard there were no survivors.”
“There were a few. A tiny handful of fanatics, and about a fifth of the good men.”
“It didn’t get nuked?”
“EMP bomb knocked out the electronics, no vids made. They did it all at contract level. Blades only. Never heard a hard count, but more than a hundred fifty thousand of them died. Five hundred eleven walked off the field, including Dorek. They left the bastard’s head on a pike, on top a three meter pile of bodies.” She massaged Kaminski’s tense shoulders with practiced ease. “He responded pretty well to the PTSD meds, doesn’t have many psych problems from it. Not everyone was so lucky.”
“Jeez… sorry, Kam, had no idea.”
“It’s OK…. Being there sort of puts everything else in perspective. Not really looking for work… more looking for meaning.”
Marcus hemmed and hawed, looking uncomfortable, like he’s thinking about things he’s just self-aware enough about to know they are way out of his league. Finally he took a pass. “Good luck with that, Kam. People been working on that forever. Not likely to find it around Skelton. But I really hope you do.”
“Got some meaning right here,” as he squeezed Allonia’s hand on his shoulder. “More complicated than your pleasure-bots, but worth a lot more too.”
Marcus looked carefully back and forth between the two of them. “You are different. Never thought you for that sort.”
“We all grow up eventually, Marcus. Or else we live meaningless lives.”
Marcus looked at them uneasily, and awkwardly mumbled some parting pleasantries, then let himself out the door, leaving the two of them alone with their memories.
Press
Skelton was all smiles when he breezed into Kaminski’s room, where the sergean
t was stripped to the waist and doing elevated pushups with his feet on a desk. The sound of water running in the shower came through an open door across the room. His massive muscles, short braid of hair, and unkempt beard and mustache make him look even more like a displaced Viking than he normally did as he paused to look at the doorway, then lightly hopped to his feet. Several white scars stood out clearly on his slightly tanned skin, and his face was flushed from exertion but expressionless as he nodded a greeting to his former employer and quenched his thirst.
“Buff as ever, I see,” Skelton observes. “You’re the only guy I know who gets muscles with exercise rather than drugs.”
Kaminski shrugged. “Fast and easy isn’t always best…. Taj says it’s better for the mind, too.”
“I wouldn’t know about that. I don’t pay big guys for their brains.” Skelton stuck his chin out toward the open door inquiringly. “The little lady?” Kaminski nodded confirmation. “Good, good. Got a job proposition, like to run it by you before she hears.”
Kaminski’s eyes narrow ever so slightly. “Don’t really need work right now.”
Grinning brightly Skelton dismissed the objection with a wave of his hand as he flopped into one of the synth-leather chairs. In the background the sound of running water ceased. “Need is such a transitory thing. Simple job, really. A situation just popped up. A few short days, maybe not even that. No muscle, no guns.” Kaminski stood still, skeptical suspicion on his face. “You know how problematic handling money can be. I need a bit of leverage on a banker, and they are trying to squeeze us little guys into playing their ballgame, rather than playing fair with honest businessmen like myself. I need someone to sit in their office for a few days at a desk, someone they don’t know, who can find out who they are talking to. The normal sources have dried up, they know my… employees… and I’d like to find out who’s on the com.”
“So you need a spy to dig for something to blackmail them with.”
Skelton spread his hands in mock offense, feigned injured pride not hiding the turned up corners of his mouth even as he protested. “What sort of man to you take me for? Nothing like that. Just a few names, maybe a few details…”
“I’m not exactly the secretarial sort,” Allonia’s voice drifted in from the back as they pause, looking at one another for a few long moments.
“Ah, yes, well, about that… The banker is having wife troubles, that much I know. And his mistress left this morning for some unknown reason, and she was an assistant to the branch manager, sooo…” his voice trails off, implications clear. Kaminski shook his head. “Nothing physical, of course,” Skelton persuasively continues. “Just sort of pique his interest, talk to him, find out what’s going on. If she’s half as smart as she is cute, a young lady with such lovely curves would turn his brains, and his discretion, to mush. He’s a manager because of family, not his smarts. If she can impress you, this guy would be no threat, none at all, but he’d likely pull out all the stops to try to impress her. And because she’s new here and not on my payroll she’s ideal! A quick office job, likely just a day or three. No ships headed your way before Thursday in any case.” Allonia walked in, nothing but a towel wrapped around her. Even though it’s a full-sized and fluffy towel, her impressive curves did not fail to impress. Skelton sat up straighter and ran his eyes over her briefly, smile crossing his lips as he cleared his throat and looked back to Kaminski. “She’d have him wrapped around her finger this afternoon. Close of business, tops.” Allonia looked back and forth between them, uncertain and a little embarrassed, but also not entirely displeased with the compliment. “It would open a lot of doors.” He stood up and puts his hand on the door knob. “I’ll give you a little while to discuss it. Gotta move fast on this opportunity, one way or another.” Glancing back at her, then back to him, he opens the door and walked out, muttering good naturedly as he went. “Lucky bastard.”
Sharon paced back and forth in Helton’s room, looking and sounding angry. “How can you allow that? They are treating her like a prostitute!”
“Spy, more like….” Helton shrugged as his sister glared at him, then resumed pacing. “She’s a competent adult who can make her own decisions; I’m not in a position to disallow anything. She’s crew, but we are not on the ship. Besides, she said it sounded like fun. We won’t be very far away.” He couldn’t resist teasing her a bit. “Just sitting here gets boring quickly, now that I’m used to the excitement of being a starship captain, getting married, and hanging out with an interstellar crime syndicate boss.”
Sharon shot him another dirty look, then stomped out and slammed the door. A moment later Kaminski and Allonia emerged from another room. She was now dressed in a fashionably conservative business dress with her hair up, looking both professional and very attractive without being obviously flirty or provocative. “What do you think?” Allonia asked, twirling gracefully.
“I’m jealous” Helton said with a grin. “Enough coverage to keep the competition’s claws from coming out immediately, and nothing specific to object to, but enough hinted at to grab eyes from all concerned.” Kaminski had a somewhat smug expression of satisfaction, agreeing with the sentiment.
The door opened again to allow Skelton to enter, looking back down the hallway. “What’s Sharon got up her-” he stopped, catching sight of Allonia. “Looks like it fits you better than anyone else I’ve seen in it. Excellent.” He glanced at the glittering hairpin and smiled, grinning his appreciation for the details. “Nice touch. Love to chat, but you have to be there to interview in about twenty. I can fill you in what we know and what you need to know on the way.” Kaminski handed her a purse while Helton threw his traveler’s coat over an arm, and they headed off for the setup.
The two men sat in a diner booth, nursing weak coffee and fresh tortilla chips and salsa while skimming the news and awaiting developments, and pretending they didn’t find gum stuck to the underside of the seats. They expected Allonia to get scanned by security when she went in, so live transmissions of what was going on wasn’t an option, but being just around the corner in case of a panic-button call was. Their eyes flitted between patrons and catching up on what the average person would be finding on the news. There was a buried story about a mob hit on a judge, and two cops were killed in a botched robbery and arrest, but no headlines of the sort they expected. Nothing high profile, no news worthy about the broad dissemination of corrupt officials they hoped for. Drifting conversations from people seated nearby or passing were trivial: business concerns, women troubles, minor political intrigue, celebrity gossip, man trouble, weekend plans, fashion critique, sports scores. College girls chattered away, a trio of police moved past on the sidewalk, businessmen came and went. They listen to it all silently, searching for clues and hints to the mood of the city. Nothing they heard was different from any other day they had seen.
“Must have started work on the spot. Looks like your wife landed a job before we did.” Kaminski shrugged casually at the jibe. “I take that as good,” Helton continues, “means he’s interested, and should try to impress her all the faster.”
“Dumb move. Loser.” Helton raised his eyebrows quizzically at the sergeant’s blunt assertion. “I’ve watched a lot of action here. Kept some of the evening stars safe at odd hours. Learned what they looked for. Never show interest at first. Men worth catching are not desperate, they get things done, they are in charge. They don’t show worry about the little stuff, they just take care of it. Women notice. Showering them with gifts at first wows the middling and low-class, but then you have to keep buying them, and the ones like Allonia see right through it. As Kat says, be worth it…. Be, not talk.”
“And they will come to you,” Helton finished, with Kaminski nodding agreement. “Never really thought about it. Just drifted from this to that, had some good times. Got to be a captain-“
“And it lit a fire under your ass, gave you goals. Gave you intensity. Got you noticed.”
“And married twice.”
“No wonder your sister didn’t believe you. That’s not the you she knows. You’re still just her nice-boy brother, not a kick-ass starship captain on a mission.” Kaminski glanced toward the door, drawn by the sound of many feet. The sidewalk was lined with uniforms in heavy gear. His eyes warn Helton to keep calm. “My dad always said if one guy points a gun at you, you take it away from him. If five guys point guns at you, move slowly and admit nothing.”
Helton scans the crowd of uniforms. “Fifteen guys?”
“Pull the pin and pray… Not going to be a gun day.” They both surreptitiously drew their guns and stick them under the seats, pressing them into the sticky mass of bubble gum, then return their hands on the table in plain sight like everyone else, sitting still as the mass of uniforms with rifles, shotguns, stun-guns, or pistols drawn and ready file in.
The Lieutenant in charge pushed a button on his belt and the background music stops and all the personal coms cut off, while the all various screens mute and display a commonwealth police logo. “Listen up! ID’s and work permits!” People in the restaurant reached for purses, wallets and pockets. Four pairs of officers fan out and started working the customers, scanning IDs, faces, palms, and any other paperwork presented. Near the back, a soft-looking and slightly overweight man in his late 20s tried to make a break for it through the kitchen door, but was rapidly brought down with a Taser and scanned.
“Well, well, well, Mr. Nesbit,” the sergeant holding him down and scanning him said,.“ like you are behind on your child support donations, and-”
“Because I can’t-” the man started to object.
“And an expired work permit. It’s your lucky day! Conscription doesn’t pay much, but we need a few good men. You can forward your newfound income to the ex.” The sergeant waved over a trooper to collect and cuff the hapless man, now headed for a likely short life in uniform. The rest of the patrons watch silently, praying all their database entries are in order.
