by M. D. Cooper
Dala approached his table, and he rose to greet her. She was wearing a grey dress that had a patina of dark spots on it from the rain. Her pink hair was pulled back into a clip, from which it fell down over her shoulders. Her lips were colored to match her fuchsia eyes, and her smile seemed genuine as she took David’s hand and gave it a single shake.
“Very nice to meet you in person, David,” Dala said as she sat. “And even nicer to do it at a place like Hammurabi’s. I hear their roast chicken is superb.”
“I really don’t know the local establishments in Hittis that well,” David replied. “But no one seemed to complain about this place, so it seemed like a safe pick.”
“Weren’t you worried that I might be a vegetarian?” Dala asked. “Hammurabi’s is mostly known for their meat.”
Rika imagined that David must have shrugged or given a smile—though she couldn’t tell from his visual feed.
“I looked over your activity on the public feeds. You often post about the types of foods you prefer. It made my selection a bit easier, though it also told me that I needed to be discerning.”
Major Dala raised an eyebrow, though a smile toyed at the corners of her lips. “Did you check up on me, David of the Marauders?”
“I’m a P-COG. I check up on everything. It’s what we do.”
Dala’s smile faded. “We are all what we’re made to do.”
“That seems fatalistic,” David replied. “What have you been made to do?”
The major shook her head. “Nothing sinister. I was just thinking about how our parents shape us, then school, then our jobs.”
“Ah, and especially more so if your job is the military.”
“Doubly so, yes.”
David and Dala’s conversation moved to more trivial topics as they reviewed the menu and ordered their drinks. Rika listened with half an ear as they spoke of the Theban integration into the Septhian Alliance.
Dala was circumspect, but Rika could tell that she resented the change, though she did agree that it was likely a necessity in the fight against the Nietzscheans. Before the attack on the Albany System, the Niets moving into the Praesepe Cluster had been a worry for another day. Now it was history, and no one could argue that Thebes was in the Nietzscheans’ crosshairs.
On the public feeds, debate raged as to whether or not the Niets would strike the same target twice, but Rika knew they would. If there was one truth about the Niets, it was that they hated to lose.
If they lost an attack on a world or system, they would return again and again, throwing more and more resources into the conflict until they won.
During the war, Rika had often heard officers speculating about where the Niets were getting their seemingly endless resources. Though their empire was vast, there was no evidence that they had the economy to support the war they waged.
The prevailing logic was that they were being supported by the Trisilieds. That kingdom was the dominant power in the Pleiades Cluster, and had massive mining operations collecting both the dust permeating the region, and the exotic matter that streamed off the massive B-class stars that dominated the Pleiades.
Rika had kept her ear to the ground over the years—something made easy by working in places like Hal’s Hell. From what she’d heard, there was little to no chatter about major trade with the Trisilieds. Wherever the Nietzscheans had gathered their resources, it didn’t appear to be from there.
Maybe someday she’d be in a position to find out.
Across the road, David and Dala were sipping their drinks. On Rika’s side, Kelly and Keli were tucking into their meals, with Kelly letting out more than a few moans of delight as she ate her plate of spaghetti.
Leslie reminded Rika at one point.
Leslie growled.
Rika followed up on her promise, and Kelly added five more orders, apparently planning to live on leftover takeout for the next week.
Across the street, David and Dala’s meals also arrived, and they began to eat in relative silence.
Thus far, Dala had not said anything noteworthy, though they had spoken of the attack in general terms. Rika was starting to wonder if Dala had led David on, simply interested in a date with no intentions of sharing anything about the attack.
Or maybe she plans to extract additional details from him…
Rika began, but David stopped her.
David snorted.
Niki said over the group’s connection.
Keli observed.
Kelly smirked around a mouthful of spaghetti.
Niki added.
Rika asked.
Niki responded without pause.
Leslie interjected.
Niki replied.
Rika wanted to pass a dozen questions over to David for him to ask Dala, but he knew the objective as well as she. There was no point messing up his train of thought.
Leslie began.
Rika rose from her chair. She looked at the pair and they both nodded before exiting Charlie’s Pasta and Chips.
Rika sent a payment over the Link so they woul
dn’t have to worry about Mary chasing after them, and moved a dozen meters down the street before crossing. Kelly mirrored her route, bracketing the restaurant. Once across the street, Rika stopped under an awning and reviewed the data Leslie was feeding them.
Leslie was positioned atop the ten-story building that housed Charlie’s Pasta and Chips at street level. From her vantage, she had eyes on armored figures atop the next building over, setting up on the roof. That building was only two stories high, and would provide a clear shot through the windows of Hammurabi’s.
Leslie hadn’t spotted any others, but if there were two, there were more.
Kelly asked as she leaned against a post in front of Hammurabi’s, obstructing the shooter’s line of sight into the restaurant.
Leslie replied.
Keli reported.
Rika reached out to David.
David asked, surprisingly calm.
Rika replied.