by Jake Bible
Torn didn’t respond, but she also didn’t try to pull away from Jennings, letting him guide her to a long bar set against the wall. Two soldiers saw the ambassador and general walking towards them and hopped up off their bar stools. They saluted Jennings then disappeared into the roaring crowd that was busy watching the violence that filled four of the cages.
The cages.
They lined the walls of the deck as well as filling three long rows that stretched from end to end. Almost every inch of floor space not occupied by cages was occupied by crew members. Crew members that were screaming and cheering, booing and hissing, holding up hands to get the attention of several overworked bookmakers and holding up hands to get the attention of several even more overworked waitresses.
It made Station Vegas Six look like a Sunday church carnival on valium.
“Beer and whiskey,” Jennings said to the bartender as he sat down on one of the vacated stools and offered the other to the ambassador. “What’ll you have?”
“I thought one of those drinks was mine,” Torn said.
“Nah. You need the whiskey to numb your mouth to the taste of the beer and you need the beer to mask the taste of blood and piss that eventually gets in your mouth if you stay more than five minutes down here,” Jennings said.
“Yes, I can see that,” Torn said, wrinkling her nose. She smiled at the bartender. “Beer and whiskey.”
The bartender started to move off and she grabbed his arm.
“Make it a double.”
“Double whiskey? Or double beers?” the bartender asked.
“Yes,” Torn said.
Jennings laughed then spun about to face the chaos.
The drinks were set on the bar and Torn took her shots of whiskey then picked up a beer, sniffed it and frowned. Jennings looked over at her and smiled.
“Told ya,” he said as he downed his shot of whiskey then began sipping his beer as his attention returned to the violence that filled the deck.
“What am I looking at here?” Torn asked. “Are they actually fighting? How can you sanction this?”
“I don’t sanction it,” Jennings said. “That would be completely against every single regulation in the book.”
“Then why isn’t this being shut down?” Torn asked.
“You see any books?” Jennings asked and chuckled. “Listen, Ambassador, things work differently in the outer reaches. Regulations are good for maintaining order, but they are shit for maintaining life. And that is all we deal with. Life. Or the ending of it.”
“Explain it to me then,” Torn said.
“Okay, sure,” Jennings said and swept his hand out to indicate the entirety of the deck and the scene. “The cages. This deck is on every damn expeditionary station. Wall-to-wall cages meant for the keeping and studying of xeno creatures. There are more problems in that plan than I can begin to explain in my lifetime.”
“Most living creatures do not like to be caged,” Torn said and sipped her beer, coughed hard, then sipped again. “It tastes like… I don’t know what it tastes like.”
“You don’t want to know what it’s made from,” Jennings said and continued. “First problem was cages like this are too utilitarian for study. Short-term containment, sure, but not any kind of meaningful study.”
“Which is why we have Gamma stations,” Torn said.
“Precisely,” Jennings said. “And we figured out early that it’s easier just to ship the creatures to a Gamma instead of housing them here. They die here. Pure and simple. That metaphor can be used for the crew, as well.”
“How so?” Torn asked, sipping again with a slightly less aggravated cough.
“The stations are just giant cages,” Jennings said and held up a hand. “You could argue that the ships are cages as well, but you’d be wrong. Ships are vehicles. They have a destination. If you are on a ship, then you have a defined purpose and that is to get from Point A to Point B. You don’t have that purpose on a station. On a station you are static. You have your duties, you have eating, you have sleeping, you repeat. No different than a creature in a cage.”
“And this violence helps? How can that be?” Torn asked.
“It helps some,” Jennings said. “Not all come down here. In fact, less than one percent of SBE’s crew even thinks about it. The MEUs on the other hand…”
He waited until Torn got the point and began to look around. After a minute of observation, her eyes went wide.
“These are all the same crew?” she asked. “From the Jethro?”
“Tonight, yes,” Jennings said. “This space was probably seventy-five percent MEU to begin with. Once I gave the order to send out the Jethro, though, the others, even from the different MEUs, vacated. They knew better than to stick around.”
“Why?” Torn asked.
“Jethro is its own entity,” Jennings said. “The top predator amongst top predators. The pecking order was established a long time ago.”
“They fight each other?” Torn asked.
“There is a specific personality type that joins a Mech Expeditionary Unit. That type is highly intelligent, highly motivated, highly independent, and highly aggressive. Highly aggressive. They must have an outlet for that aggression at all times or they will tear a station to pieces within weeks.” Jennings shrugged. “Same with a MEU command ship. Get it out on station before any beefs or aggressions can build up on the mission. And Jethro is the most aggressive, by far.”
“Why have I never heard of places like this before?” Torn asked. “I’ve been on other stations and never seen anything resembling these cages.”
“This is not on all stations,” Jennings said. “Each general has their version of what they do to allow their MEUs to keep the pressure from building up, but there’s no reason you’d know anything about those strategies. You wouldn’t know about this one except you’ve extorted a spot on the Jethro from me.”
“Extortion is a rather harsh term,” Torn said.
“What else would you call it?” Jennings asked.
All friendliness was gone as he focused his gaze on the ambassador. She laughed then grew uncomfortable under his gaze. A quick glance around and she nodded.
“I have no friends down here, do I?” she said and laughed again. It was a frightened, cautious laugh, but also filled with understanding. “If something were to happen, you’d have a hundred witnesses to backup any story you made.”
“Not the reason I brought you down here, but yes,” Jennings said. “One part of military life that is spelled out in the regulations, although it transcends beyond what a book can hold, is loyalty. The cages exist because I let them exist. You exist because they know I want you to exist. But…”
He snapped his fingers and despite the cacophony, several heads turned, looked at Jennings, then focused on the ambassador. Jennings smiled, nodded, and waved them off, and all attention left the two of them, returning to the action in the cages.
“Okay, you have my full attention,” Torn said. “Why did you really bring me down here?”
“An introduction,” Jennings said and pointed at the crowd.
“To…?”
“Colonel Jala Parveet,” Jennings said.
“Where is she?” Torn asked. “I don’t see her in the crowd.”
“She’s not in the crowd, Ambassador,” Jennings said. “She’s in a cage. That one. There.”
4.
Wrists wrapped with mechanic’s tape, Colonel Jala Parveet threw a fast jab with her right hand at her opponent then dropped to a knee and threw an even faster left jab at her opponent’s groin. There was a cry of pain then a long list of curse words.
“You think you’re funny, bitch?” the opponent, Sergeant Tag Schroeder, said and laughed. “I ain’t got no balls.”
“Still hurts,” Parveet said as she came up fast with an uppercut that clocked Schroeder just under the chin. “And makes a good distraction.”
Schroeder would have been knocked off her feet if the side of th
e cage hadn’t kept her from falling on her ass. She shook her head, obviously dazed, and managed to put her arms in front of her face before Parveet came in with wicked fast jabs followed by several right and left hooks.
Of course, arms up to protect one’s face left one’s midsection exposed.
Parveet sent a last right hook at Schroeder’s head then started in on her gut. Fist after fist connected before Schroeder could double over and drop into a protective crouch. A crouch right at knee level.
There was no hesitation in the attack. Parveet switched to kneeing Schroeder over and over and over until the sergeant managed to get a hand free and tap the plasticrete floor of the cage. Parveet’s onslaught stopped instantly and she smiled.
“That’s eight out of ten, Schroeder,” Parveet said. “Six in a row?”
“Five,” Schroeder said as she held out a hand and Parveet helped her to her shaky feet. “Jesus, Colonel. You really clocked me on that last hit.”
Parveet frowned and grabbed Schroeder by the sides of her head, turning it one way then the other.
“Shit, Schroeder, my bad,” she said. “You got a hemorrhage in your left eye. Hit sick bay and get checked out. That’s an order.”
“Did I fall or run into a piece of equipment?” Schroeder asked.
“What did you say last time?” Parveet replied.
“Hell if I know, Boss,” Schroeder said. “You knocked that memory outta my skull.”
“No need for excuses,” Jennings said, his fingers laced through the cage’s metal alloy mesh as he leaned against the side. “Dr. Leung is on shift.”
“Beautiful,” Schroeder said. “He skips the pills and goes straight for the injections. Thanks, General.”
“Just make it back on board the Jethro for your departure and no thanks needed,” Jennings said. He unlatched the cage’s door and swung it inward.
Schroeder nodded to him, paused as she stared at Torn for a second, then was lost in the crowd that had shifted attention to the fight going on two cages down.
“Got a second, Jala?” Jennings asked.
“Sup?” Parveet replied as she stepped past Jennings and Torn and headed straight for a line of chairs set in a gap between two cages against the wall.
She didn’t wait for an answer, just kept walking until she reached one of the chairs, picked up the towel draped across the back, wiped her face, then snagged a water bottle from the ground and drank deep. She didn’t even look behind her at her superior officer.
“You allow her to speak to you that way?”
Parveet stopped drinking and set the water bottle back in its spot. She slowly turned to regard Torn. A look up and down then a snort of derision.
“Torn, yeah?” Parveet asked.
“Yes, Colonel Parveet, that is who I am,” Torn said, her nose wrinkled and turned slightly up.
“She give you this haughty bullshit too?” Parveet asked Jennings.
“Not quite as strong as she is with you,” Jennings replied, looking puzzled.
“Ah, you’re one of those,” Parveet said and sat down on the chair. She yanked her athletic bra up over her head and began wiping the sweat from her breasts. The smile that spread across her face when Torn turned away was one of triumph.
“And what do you mean by that?” Torn asked.
“I mean you’re one of those bitches that can’t handle another woman with bigger gonads than she has,” Parveet said. “You gotta be top twat no matter what room you’re in. Pretty sure the other twats in your life let you have that spot.”
Parveet leaned forward, her forearms on her thighs.
“Do I look like a goddamn twat to you, Ambassador?” Parveet asked. “You can see my titties, but do you see a twat?”
“Knock it off, Jala,” Jennings said, but he was laughing. “Cut the woman some slack.”
“Fine,” Parveet said. “Whatever you say, sir.”
She stood and tossed the towel onto the floor then yanked a bag out from under the chair, pulled a fresh athletic bra from the bag, put it on, then pulled out a T-shirt and put that on. The entire time her eyes were locked on Torn. She sneered, put on a pair of sweatpants over her sweaty shorts, then slung the bag over her shoulder and shoved past the ambassador.
“Drinks. Lots of them. You’re buying, twat,” she said as she pushed people out of the way to get to the bar.
Torn blinked a few times in stunned silence. Jennings kept laughing and pulled her after Parveet.
***
“You tell her your theory about keeping this place from exploding?” Parveet asked then downed three shots of whiskey without pause. She switched her focus from Jennings to Torn. “Did he give you the live life, no regulations, gotta release the pressure somehow bullshit? He loves that speech.”
Parveet raised her eyebrows, but Torn could only stare, slack-jawed. Jennings continued chuckling next to her. Parveet’s eyes narrowed then a look of concern crossed her face. She turned back to Jennings.
“I think I broke her, General,” Parveet said and waved her hand in front of Torn’s face. “Yep. Broke her.”
“Stop that, please,” Torn said and smacked Parveet’s hand away.
“Okay, my bad,” Parveet said. “So, Ambassador Beryl Torn, what did you do to the general here for him to risk everything and bring one of the most influential members of the UEC’s Budget Committee down to the cages?”
“I told him I am coming with you on your mission to Hrouska,” Torn said.
“Did you now?” Parveet replied. She pounded a beer, did two more shots, then held up her hand until the bartender brought her another round of the same. “And if I say no? What will you do to me?”
“Despite all of this,” Torn said, waving at the madness and violence around them. “General Jennings is still the commanding officer of this station and he has the last say.”
“Really?” Parveet said and focused on Jennings. “You do that snap your fingers thing?”
“I did,” Jennings said.
“Was she impressed?” Parveet asked.
“Somewhat,” Jennings replied.
Parveet stood, put her fingers to her mouth, and whistled high and sharp.
The entire deck went dead silent and all eyes turned to Parveet.
“How many did he get to turn around?” Parveet asked.
“Not that many,” Torn said quietly.
“I’d never abuse this power, of course,” Parveet said. “But it’s good to know it’s there.”
She flipped off the crowd and they cheered then got back to the fights.
“You said the general has the last say, but we both know that’s crap. I’m thinking you have the last last say,” Parveet said. “Yet you still haven’t answered my question. What will you do to me if I say no?” Parveet smirked. “And if you manage to get off this deck in one piece.”
“Nothing,” Torn said. “I may have the sway to have your entire MEU reassigned to a different station, though. But I’d leave you here.”
“Hey now,” Jennings growled. “Be very careful with threats like that, Ambassador.”
“No, no, she’s right,” Parveet said. “She has that kind of power. She can call her family and this entire station would be shuffled and reassigned across the galaxy. But she won’t. That’s probably the emptiest threat she has.”
“Is that so?” Torn asked. “You believe I am above using my family’s influence?”
“I believe you’d rather gouge your own eyes out with your thumbs than send them a text message asking for so much as a bowl of cereal,” Parveet replied. “You’d probably rather step into one of those cages with me than give them the satisfaction of knowing you needed their help.”
Torn glared. “I find your observation rather presumptuous. You know nothing about my relationship with my family.”
“I know everything about your relationship with your family, woman,” Parveet said. “Been there, left that.”
Shot, shot, beer, shot.
“Been
there, left… What does that mean?” Torn asked.
“Funny,” Parveet said.
“I fail to see what’s funny about it,” Torn replied.
“You think I was born with the name Parveet?” Parveet asked. “Well, yeah, I was, but my father wasn’t. Parveet is my mother’s name. He took hers to get as far away from people like you and your family as possible. Didn’t help. He eventually went crawling back when my mother and siblings died. Don’t blame him. He was one broken son of a bitch after the accident. The shitty part was, instead of sending me away, he took me with. We lived in one of the handyman cottages on the grounds. That was like his bullshit compromise.”
So many emotions flitted across Torn’s face that Parveet reached out and patted her on the shoulder with one hand while holding up the other for the bartender’s attention.
“You are trying to go through the inventory of families that might have wealth and influence on Earth,” Parveet said. “Trying to recall some scandal, some bit of gossip about an accident where an heir loses his entire family except for a daughter. All those years of coming out parties and formal breeding mixers you have fought so hard to suppress are flooding back into that carefully constructed mind of yours. I do not envy you right now, I can say that for sure.”
The bartender set drinks down, Parveet handed the ambassador the drinks, the ambassador drank the drinks.
“Better?” Parveet asked.
“No,” Torn said, coughing.
“You got this?” Jennings asked, looking at Parveet.
“I got this,” Parveet said. “I’ve been waiting for this moment for a long, long time.”
“You what…?” Torn stuttered.
“Forty-eight hours tops,” Jennings said and got up to leave. “Not a second more.”
“We’ll be ready in twenty-four,” Parveet said. “Knowing Stony, we’re probably ready now, but I’ll need to get this one here in condition to make the trip.”
“Good,” Jennings said. “Take care of her, Jala.”
