The Constable Returns

by J. N. Chaney

  It was complicated working in the shadow of the law.

  Still, I had trained for this. Selected for a natural talent to see through the people who stood to gain from playing outside the rules and working to cause harm for profit for its own sake.

  I finished programming the data pad and started in on the second, pulling up the feed from Oliver’s data cache that he’d somehow managed to get from Black Orchid. The scene before we’d left the shop played again in my mind, and I regretted my sharp words. Dorian told me not to worry about it, but it still bothered me.

  The second pad complete, I started in on the third. The cheap devices weren’t designed to hold the amount of data we were getting, so getting it off of them and onto the ship’s computer was tedious.

  I turned on the final pad and got to work on the first step in the casino plan.

  Searching the gal-net for any information I could find related to Ferris Velio only yielded basic results. He was originally from a core world, the son of a land magnate with connections to a Union diplomat working in the far rim. From there, he leveraged his father’s money into a successful series of hotels and short lease lodgings for miners, refinery workers, and other assorted working-class people.

  Velio had expanded the business model a few years later. Though, from the rumors, it seemed like he just went public with his already established gambling and entertainment efforts. Like a certain class of robber baron from tales of old, Velio seemed to grasp that the quickest way to make money was to grift a large percentage of the cash being made by honest workers. He provided all manner of modern conveniences and creature comforts for an above average price. When the workers ran low on cash that they had handed or lost to him, he was even nice enough to issue some rather steep loans to tide them over to their next check.

  Thus, the Black Orchid had been born.

  It was distasteful, but also predictable out in the rim. Some of the casino owner’s activities were legal, but he had plenty of off-record transactions. The merging of the two showed he had business savvy, and the fact that he hadn’t been caught said he was street smart too. It also showed that the Union’s control wasn’t as far reaching as I’d initially believed.

  Here I saw the dingy hand of the Union’s efforts to civilize the galaxy being used as an excuse. To live free, outside of control and rules of the government, brought fortune seekers and chisel-jawed workers. With that kind of overly earnest populace creating capital in far-off, and difficult to control, areas, the opportunists like Velio were quick to set up shop.

  I sighed as I read through the reports. His more legitimate businesses were all run just to rule, skirting by cursory investigations and doing their best to not invite a deeper look. I would have to look it up through the Constable mainframe when we were off Taurus and back in the void. I expected to find evidence of more serious crime, such as human smuggling, antiquities theft, and a whole history of bribes and extortion.

  For good measure, I made sure to look up more information on neutronium markets and uses. There were a few schematics for devices that needed neutronium, including an experimental fuel cell for runner and light freighter class ships. On a whim, I included some searches into upscale tea houses and bars in Celtan. Per Dorian’s request, I also perused a site for companion services. Clicking through the profiles of the women made me feel distinctly dirty, and I couldn’t help but think he’d done it to mess with me.

  I considered this aspect of the plan. It rubbed me wrong from a professional and ethical standpoint. Working in the dark was necessary. That I understood from everything I had learned about the Constables and the history of galactic and world governments. Nothing that stood in the light could survive for long without action being taken on its behalf from compromising positions.

  It was another thing to be doing those deeds. We would have to work outside the law in order to uphold the law, as we had been. A moral paradox for someone like me. It was a lot to take in and I sifted through the thoughts on autopilot, letting my mind work it out.

  Our timeline was tight, and we had to operate in largely unknown territory. Knowing who was waiting to find us and drawing the opportunistic and less cautious ones in with what should look like an obvious ploy, was step one.

  There was a chance that my searches could send up a flag since the gal-net was only so secure. Anyone monitoring these searches, such as Velio or those that sold information to him, would be quick to notice that someone was taking an interest.

  Dorian’s thinking was that I also could use the training. The foolish and opportunistic were the rashest, the most likely to use violence as an opening negotiation. That would give me a chance to hone some fighting skills before we ran into the kinds of professionals that could be a real threat.

  I opened my personal datapad and began to review my own file. A picture of the carnage on Meridian slid onto the screen and I flipped through them slowly as a reminder of why I was here. Remi’s image filled the screen next and I paused to study my old friend’s face.

  I considered what Remi would think of this whole situation. What he might say if he knew I was posing as a Renegade. Or that I was traveling the galaxy in a ship with another old merc. He might even laugh and give me some pointers. Maybe he would think it was fitting.

  The smile that had spread across my face at the memories faded as another thought surfaced. Maybe he would hate that I was working for the people that killed his family. I made a mental note to check the Constable archives. There might be some information out there that would provide some closure.

  I had checked before but found I was barred from the search. Shaw clearly didn’t want me to dwell. Or maybe he was just waiting to give me a look at that after Evelyn. A problem for a future time.

  My comm beeped in my ear and startled me. It was new and, though I’d learned how to use them in class, still foreign. I couldn’t stop the grin though. The mission was a series of firsts and I enjoyed them all.

  “Hey Al, I’m on my way back with the badges,” said Dorian. “Keep an eye out so you can let me in.

  “Copy that,” I replied. The line shut off just as my datapad went off.

  It was a message from Trinidad.

  Could only get two badges. They will get you in a prelim meeting only. The powers behind this sale are exceedingly paranoid, so watch your back. They’re having a pre-sale to get to the real one. Those badges will get you into a warehouse on the outskirts of Celtan in three days. You better get moving.

  Dorian called on the comms thirty minutes later. “Bad news, Alphonse. Someone locked out the lift and I’m stuck a few levels away from the docks. Going to try and find an access shaft and use the manual override. Hold out until I get there.”

  I stood up and started to put on my boots. “Did Trinidad betray you? I can come help.”

  Dorian kept his voice calm. “These things happen. Stay on the ship and stay calm. You want to direct the action, but this isn’t the time.” He sounded casual but there was a slight tremor to his voice that sounded like worry. “I made a leader and two bigger guys. From their uniforms, they seem local. I can’t be certain of their training or arms at the moment.”

  He went silent then and all I could hear was a low buzz on the line. Concern for my Vetus sent nerves needling through me and it occurred to me that if things went wrong here, I might be on my own.

  The momentary panic subsided when I heard muffled voices in the background. He’d gone mute to avoid detection. Smart.

  “What’s your status, Dorian?” I asked when it was quiet again.

  “I’ve come to an access shaft and found the bypass. I heard them mention Trinidad, so it stands to reason they’re Renegades or after the same thing we are. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

  “That’s going to be minutes too late,” said a gruff voice that was definitely not my partner’s.

  I was blind to the situation but could make out the sound of grunts and bangs as bodies collided with each other or the
surroundings, it was hard to tell. Feeling helpless, I jumped up and ran from my room.

  “Hold on, Dorian, I’m on my way.”

  “No! Don’t—” The rest of his response was cut off as the Constable fought off the attackers.

  Already in the cargo bay, my hand hovered over the manual control to open the ramp as I debated internally what to do. We might be acting like partners, but the older man was still my superior. If I moved swiftly, I might make it in time to help, but if they took me captive or killed me the mission would fail. Alternatively, I might make it to find Dorian perfectly fine. Then I’d be reprimanded for ignoring an order.

  As the scuffle continued, Remi came to mind, and how I’d failed to save him. Doing nothing might be signing the death warrant for Vetus Dorian Tribal, who I considered to be the far greater asset between us.

  The decision was easy now. Mind made up, I pressed the door control.

  “Stand clear, cargo bay opening,” the ship’s computer chimed helpfully.

  Dorian must have heard it because he cursed. “Dammit, kid. Big picture!” he barked over the comm.

  I hesitated and came to a stop halfway down the ramp. I recalled his words to me as we’d flown around the Red Tower, before our meeting with Shaw.

  You’re going to have to make the hard decisions, but in a way that the populace will be better off…

  Swallowing hard, I retreated back to the cargo bay. Hoping it was the right thing to do, I pressed the button one more time and watched as the ramp closed and the docks disappeared from view.

  8

  The comm went quiet again less than a minute later and I strained to hear any clue as to what had happened.

  “Al, your ass better still be on that ship,” Dorian warned, panting heavily after the impromptu workout.

  I breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed a fraction. “I am. Are you good?” I asked, not sure of his condition.

  “Sure am. These guys aren’t. I’m going to clean this up, then I’ll be back. Did the ship get refueled yet?”

  “Yes. All set there,” I answered after a quick check of the logs.

  “Good, make sure we’re ready to go the minute I get back,” he ordered, then cut the transmission.

  Starting in the cargo bay, I worked my way methodically through the Mikro and secured anything that wasn’t already buttoned up. Since there was only the two of us aboard and we were used to living minimally, I finished the task quickly before making my way to the bridge.

  Once there, I completed all the pre-flight checks and alerted the dock master of our departure plans. Luckily for us, the wait time was only a matter of minutes. With nothing left to do but wait, I settled into my chair and ran through the mission mentally.

  I wasn’t at it long when an alert popped up on the holo display to let me know that the cargo door was open. Erring on the side of caution, I checked the feed to make sure it was him. He looked a little worse for wear, though not as bad as I’d expected.

  Less than two minutes later, I could hear the echo of his footsteps and then he was on bridge and strapping into the captain’s chair.

  “You check everything?” he asked, his hands moving over the control in a blur.

  “Yes, Dorian. Dock master is just waiting on your signal, then we can leave.”

  The look on his face didn’t invite more discussion, so I remained quiet as we unclamped from the dock and eased into traffic. To anyone else, Dorian wouldn’t have looked flustered; on the contrary, the senior Constable exuded a calm that would rival most holy men. But I wasn’t anyone else. A vein in his neck throbbed faster than usual, and his breathing came in even breaths too perfectly timed to be natural. He favored the left arm so subtly that I almost missed it, but I didn’t comment until we were clear of Taurus and in the next slip tunnel.

  “I can patch that up,” I offered, once it was safe to leave our seats.

  Dorian shook his head. “Nah, it’s alright. Just a scratch. Trinidad came through. Here’s your badge.” He pulled a small card from his pocket and passed it to me.

  I took it from him and examined the ID. On Meridian, working with Evelyn and Remi, it had been easy to romanticize a life of crime with its enticing thrills and promise of credits. A year spent training to be a Union agent had drastically altered my ideals, and now it seemed wrong to pose as a criminal to meet our own means.

  My struggle must have showed because Dorian placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. “Sometimes a Constable has to put aside personal baggage to get the job done. We all make concessions and cross lines to make the mission successful. You just learn to live with it, Al.”

  “I understand. I have to get used to this since lying and deception aren’t really my strong suit. Usually I’m the one to catch those things and call the person on it.”

  Dorian stared at me for a full second before bursting into laughter. “You’re far better than you think if the records from Meridian are to be believed. Don’t worry, Al. You’ll find your way. We all do, eventually.”

  The next day, I sat in my room poring over the mission dossier and the new information we’d received when Dorian hailed me over my room’s comm.

  “Alphonse, get down here. Time to train.”

  “On my way.” I donned some nondescript PT clothes and wound through the ship until I found Dorian in the training room.

  It was usually outfitted with a variety of exercise equipment, but he had stored it in favor of a training mat that took up almost the entire room.

  My partner had chosen similar attire and was already standing in the middle of the mat, barefoot and waiting. I kicked off my own footwear and joined him.

  “This general training or did you have something specific to teach me, Vetus?” I drawled out the title to let him know it was a jibe.

  Dorian bounced up and down and smiled. “I’ve already stretched and gotten set. You’re going into this cold?”

  “No,” I said, feeling a little sheepish that I’d forgotten the first rule of any exercise.

  I put myself through some stretches, feeling increasingly awkward as the other man studied me. Then he smirked, just a tiny lift in the corner of his mouth, and I realized he’d been doing it on purpose. It had almost worked. Almost. Not letting on that I’d noticed, I intentionally stumbled through the movements to make Dorian think he’d succeeded in throwing me off and waited for an opening. The fight in Percy’s had served to bolster my confidence and I allowed myself a small smile as well.

  “C’mon, kid. We’re going to make it to Din before you’re ready,” the other man complained.

  He’d gotten comfortable waiting and dropped his guard just enough. I surged forward and aimed a low kick at his shin while using my fist to jab him in the stomach. When my hand met only air, I realized my mistake, but not quick enough to stop Dorian from performing a throw that put me on my back.

  “Again,” he ordered, then stepped back to let me get up.

  Now that I knew my partner was using my skill to his advantage, I took more time to study my opponent as we circled each other. He still favored the left arm but was doing a decent job of hiding it. He shifted his stance often so that it was hard to determine which he might lead with, but I noticed that when I moved in his right leg moved back and his heel came up just slightly.

  I moved in to attack again and went to sweep his right leg. I connected this time, but only slightly, and he danced away before spinning inward and raised his leg, bringing it down on me to perform a swift axe kick. I caught the foot with my hands, but the strike still carried enough force to pin me.

  Dorian stepped back again, releasing me from beneath his foot, and I stood up, propping my hands on my knees to catch my breath again.

  “You’re missing opportunities, Malloy,” the Vetus criticized.

  “I’m trying. Hand to hand wasn’t exactly my best class,” I said.

  He nodded. “So I read. Which is why you need more practice. You’re not a great fighter, but you can be.” />
  The words weren’t an insult, just an observation, so I didn’t let it bother me.

  “I know, I know. They drilled it into me at the Red Tower. More sparring, more muscle boosters.”

  Now Dorian shook his head and tapped a finger to his chin thoughtfully. “No, I don’t think you need all that. Tell me, what do you excel at?”

  It seemed an easy question and I answered immediately. “Observation and deduction. I’m already employing those skills when I fight, but it doesn’t seem to be helping.”

  “That’s because you’re only looking at superficial things. When you study an adversary it’s all over your face.” He gestured at my face to emphasize his point. “I could see your eyes calculating your next move and anticipate where you were going to strike. It should be the opposite.”

  I shrugged, frustrated. “I thought I was already doing that.”

  “You are,” he agreed. “Just not well enough. Run me through your thought process for that last bout.”

  Trying not to show my mounting irritation, I did.

  When I’d finished, he grimaced and moved forward. “Any seasoned fighter could do that,” he said. “That’s child’s play for you. This time, I want you to think further ahead. Don’t just anticipate my first moves. Incorporate your moves and my response.”

  It made sense and I chided myself for not thinking of it.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  I nodded and started circling again, trying to do what he’d told me.

  “Let’s start with a handicap,” Dorian suggested. “I’ll give you an opening for a head strike. You anticipate the next few steps.”

  This time, I played the sequence out in my head. Me going for the strike, him blocking it and retaliating with a punishing cross right to avoid using his injured left arm. It clicked then and I smiled as the rest of the scene unfolded in my mind.