Lawmen- Rook and Berenger

by Matthew Kadish

  Berenger chewed on his lowbacco cigar, eyeing Deckland thoughtfully. “Uh-huh,” the man muttered. “Guess that answers my question.”

  Deckland scowled at Berenger. “I’m sorry if you disapprove of the fact that I won’t be compromising my principles for the sake of some twisted idea of Frontier justice.”

  Berenger shrugged. “Ain’t no skin off my nose, Rook. You’ll either learn the hard way what it takes to be a Lawman, or you’ll wash out like so many others before you. Just do me a favor if’n ya would. If you ever finally figure out how things really work around here, just give me a heads up. Since we’re stuck with one another, it would help to know when we’re finally on the same page.”

  “You mean if I ever decide to become a loose cannon like you, you want me to let you know?”

  “Consider it a professional courtesy.”

  “Well, don’t expect me to be extending that courtesy anytime soon.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means, Ranger Berenger, that in the short time I’ve gotten to know you I’ve come to the conclusion that though you may be a competent and respected investigator, you are also slovenly, dangerous, a drunk, and perhaps worst of all… extremely unprofessional. Going forward, you’re going to have to accept that the Empire is coming to the Frontier and things will change around here. And like it or not, you will have to change along with them, not me. I do not have anything to figure out here, so if you’re waiting for me to come around to your backwater way of doing things, I promise, you will be waiting for a very long time.”

  “That so?”

  “That is so.”

  “This must be what happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object, eh?” muttered Berenger as he took his cigar out of his mouth and rolled it thoughtfully with his fingers. “Well then, seeing as how you and I ain’t ever gonna change how we do things, it doesn’t take a highly trained investigator to deduct that you and I ain’t gonna work.”

  “No, it doesn’t,” Deckland replied.

  “So…” Berenger said as he rocked back in his chair. “What’re we gonna do about it?”

  Deckland was quiet for a moment as he mulled over Berenger’s question. He hadn’t wanted things to go this way, but it was obvious to both men that their pairing had been a mistake.

  “I’ll head back to headquarters and request a reassignment,” he finally said.

  Berenger nodded. “Works for me,” he replied.

  “Well, I wish I could say it was a pleasure meeting you, Ranger Berenger. But I guess I don’t believe in wishes.”

  “You know what they say, Rook,” Berenger drawled. “Wish in one hand. Squick in the other. See which one fills up faster.”

  “When it comes to this meeting of ours, I think it’s safe to say I’ve had my share of squick for one day.”

  With a curt nod, Deckland turned to leave. He didn’t make it two steps before a beeping rang out. He turned to see that a call was coming in over the ship’s comm array. Berenger swiveled around and punched a button on his console. Tamara’s image popped up on the ship’s viewscreen.

  “Ranger Berenger. I see Ranger Prescott found you,” she said.

  “He not only found me, he woke me up,” Berenger replied.

  “Oh, dear,” Tamara said. “Had I known he would actually find you, I’d have informed him you aren’t a morning person.”

  “I think he figured that out on his own. What can I do for ya, darlin’?”

  “I’m calling with an assignment. The head Peacekeeper of the Skinny Plains settlement in the Alpha Renway system has contacted our offices. He’s requested assistance with a homicide investigation.”

  “Homicide, eh?” said Berenger. “Well, I’m afraid you’re going to have to pass this one to another team, Tamara.”

  “Pass it on?”

  “Yeah. Rook here will explain when he gets back to HQ.”

  Tamara frowned. “Director Kerpatrick specifically requested the Initiative’s best investigators be put on this one, sir,” she said. “That means you, and by extension, Ranger Prescott.”

  Berenger and Deckland exchanged a curious glance. “Why has the Director made such a request?” Deckland asked.

  “Because, Ranger Prescott,” Tamara replied, sadly, “the victim in this case is a ten-year-old girl.”

  Berenger frowned at that revelation. He glanced up at Deckland, who clenched his jaw in a way one does right before he is about to do something he desperately does not want to do.

  “Tell the Director… we’re on it,” Deckland said.

  “I’ll be sure to do that, sir,” Tamara replied. “Sending you the casefile now. Good luck.”

  With that, the call ended. Berenger stood up and hooked his thumbs through his belt, looking at Deckland with a hint of amusement. “Thought you and me weren’t going to work?” he said.

  “We’re not,” Deckland stated. “I’m still putting in for reassignment. But first… I’m going to solve the death of a child.”

  Berenger nodded in acquiescence. “Yippee kai yay, Rook,” he said.

  “I don’t know what that means.”

  “It means – sounds like a plan. Put her there…”

  Berenger hocked a glob of spit into his hand and then extended it to Deckland, who looked down at the offering with disgust before rolling his eyes and leaving the bridge.

  “Everyone’s right,” Deckland muttered. “I am definitely in the wrong place.”

  Chapter 6

  The red and tan planet of Sarjana glowed brightly in the light of its harsh sun as a hyperspace window opened and The Leadbelly came flying out of it. On the bridge of the ship, Berenger sat in the pilot’s seat, with Deckland in the co-pilot chair next to him. Deckland gripped the armrests tightly as he fought the feeling of queasiness that had been with him since take-off.

  Berenger side-eyed his passenger. “You okay there, Rook?” he asked. “You’re looking a tad green around the gills.”

  “I’m fine,” grumbled Deckland.

  “Not much for space flight, eh?”

  “Not when the ship I’m flying in doesn’t seem to have functioning inertial dampeners.”

  “Oh, The Leadbelly’s inertial dampeners are completely functional,” drawled Berenger. “I just happen to have them turned down to about 85% or so.”

  Deckland scowled at Berenger. “Do you have a reason for that? Or do you just like making those who fly with you sick?”

  “I got me a reason for everything I do, Rook. Never much cared for how inertial dampeners make it seem like you’re standing still. Turning them down a tad gives me a better feel for my ship. Besides, I ain’t used to having passengers with me… not ones that are outside of the brig, anyway.”

  “Well, unless you want your robo-butler cleaning up my stomach contents from your control console, would you do me the courtesy of fully using your inertial dampeners for the remainder of the flight, please?”

  Berenger chuckled. “I suppose, since you said ‘please’,” he replied before tapping some keys on his control board. “Better?”

  Deckland immediately felt the difference as the ship’s inertial dampeners removed any feeling of g-force and motion from the interior. “Much,” he answered.

  Deckland looked up at the display of their destination on the ship’s viewscreen. During the trip from Barnholm he’d done his best to review the casefile Tamara had sent them, but the motion sickness caused by the low inertial dampening hadn’t allowed him to read much. He looked at the planet curiously.

  “That’s Sarjana?” he asked.

  “I certainly hope so,” Berenger replied. “Otherwise I may haveta pull over and ask for directions.”

  “There doesn’t seem to be any water on it.”

  “Nope, there certainly doesn’t.”

  “But according to the file, Skinny Plains was recently upgraded from an outpost to a colony,” Deckland said. “Colonies are only established if further settlements are pla
nned. How could they do so on a planet with no water?”

  “Ain’t you heard?” Berenger asked. “You don’t need water to settle a planet no more. Not with the new OXIEs.”

  “OXIEs?”

  “Stands for ‘Oxygen In-Situ Resources Utilization Equipment’. New Life Support units that are used to pull water from alien atmospheres. OXIEs split the carbon dioxide molecules in a planet’s atmosphere into carbon and oxygen and construct both water and breathable air through the process. Their use allows settlements to be established in locations that do not have easy access to water.”

  “Okay, but… even if that’s the case, a colony’s viability would be completely reliant on OXIEs and any resources they could import from hyperspace trade,” said Deckland. “Why would it even be worth colonizing a planet without any of the resources to support a population?”

  Berenger chuckled. “Because, without a home planet for the system, ya can’t be granted a Legacy,” he replied. “That’s the reason the vast majority of colonies out in the Frontier exist, Rook. Some ambitious muckity-muck wants to become a system Lord, even if the people he rules over gotta resort to a lifetime of recycled air and water for him to do it.”

  Deckland frowned at that. “Well, no wonder there are so many unsanctioned settlements out here in the Frontier,” he said. “Still, it seems like having a Legacy over a planetary system without a truly viable homeworld in it isn’t worth the effort or expense. Without a homeworld that can produce a population, how can a Legacy hope to develop the rest of the system?”

  “Chances are they can’t,” Berenger agreed. “But that won’t stop them from strip mining every resource they can from the system and using it to line their pockets. Out here in the Frontier, if a system ain’t rich with people, it’s usually rich in resources. And sometimes the funds that come from that are more important to keeping a Legacy going than a thriving populous.”

  “How much are you willing to bet our dead girl is a result of this careless land rush?” Deckland postulated. “A casualty of some type of life support failure or some other irresponsible outgrowth of the rush to colonize an inhospitable planet?”

  “Hope it’s that easy,” Berenger replied. “Means the two of us can get on our separate ways quicker. You’ll have a case under your belt, and I’ll be back to flying solo. Regardless, I’d like to have this thing solved by Thursday.”

  “Why? What’s so special about Thursday?”

  Berenger smiled lecherously at Deckland. “Thursday is ladies’ night at My Office.”

  Deckland shook his head, admonishingly. “A child’s dead and that’s what you’re thinking about? Anyone ever tell you that you have some seriously skewed priorities, Ranger Berenger?”

  “You only say that because you ain’t ever seen the women that come to ladies’ night.”

  If everything else Deckland knew about Berenger was anything to go by, he shuddered to think about the type of woman that appealed to the man.

  The Leadbelly entered Sarjana’s atmosphere and flew over the rocky and mountainous terrain before reaching a long flat stretch of land that had the settlement of Skinny Plains in the middle of it. The ship set down at the small spaceport landing pad attached to the pod city that comprised the colony. Once on the ground, Deckland and Berenger made their way from The Leadbelly’s bridge to the rear cargo bay. As they walked, Berenger buckled his blaster holster as Wadsworth gave him his longcoat and hat.

  “It’s a bit hot on this planet for your longcoat, don’t you think?” asked Deckland.

  “You got your uniform, Rook,” Berenger said. “I got mine.”

  Deckland sighed but didn’t press the issue. If his companion wanted to burn up, he wasn’t going to force him to do otherwise.

  The Leadbelly’s bay door lowered, and Deckland immediately felt the warm air rush over him as he and Berenger walked down the ramp. The sun was high overhead and beating down relentlessly. Deckland had been outside for only a few moments and already the top of his head was feeling the heat in a rather uncomfortable manner.

  As they made their way off the landing pad, they saw a man waiting for them by the entrance to the spaceport terminal. He was dressed in the white uniform of a Peacekeeper and wore a matching widebrim hat. He waved in greeting as he walked toward the two Rangers.

  “Howdy!” he said. “I’m Chief James Moreland, head Peacekeeper ‘round these parts.”

  “Chief,” acknowledged Berenger as he and Deckland came to a stop to accept the greeting. “I’m Ranger Berenger. This here is Rook.”

  “That is not my name,” stated Deckland. “I’m Ranger Prescott.”

  “Then why’s he call you Rook?” asked Moreland.

  “Because he’s fresh from the academy and ain’t never worked a real case,” explained Berenger.

  “I see,” Moreland replied, knowingly. “Well, Ranger Berenger, Rook, your presence here is most appreciated. Welcome to Skinny Plains.”

  Deckland scowled but refrained from further objection, since it was obvious Moreland was an old-time Frontiersman like Berenger and contesting his new nickname would be futile. Deckland followed as Moreland began leading Berenger and him away from the spaceport and into the colony proper.

  The settlement appeared taller than it was wide, with pod structures stacked on top of one another throughout the town. Other than the pods, there didn’t seem to be any other structures around, not even wooden ones. The few streets the settlement possessed were paved, but there were still plenty of dirt-road offshoots leading to more out-of-the-way structures. Aside from that, there were lots of awnings and overhangs to protect the citizens from direct sunlight as they made their way throughout the town.

  “Nice place you have here,” said Deckland, dryly, as they walked down a dirt road leading around the outskirts of the settlement. Deckland had never been to a Frontier colony before, but if Skinny Plains were anything to go by, he was not impressed with the living conditions.

  “I know she ain’t much to look at,” Moreland replied. “Never cared for pod cities myself. Far too ‘building block’ for my liking, y’know? But other than rock, grass, and the occasional cactus, there’s not anything to build with around here. Though now that we’ve been declared a colony and are being sponsored by the Empire, Stygaard may use some of the metal we’ve been mining to start new construction.”

  “Stygaard?” asked Berenger.

  “Yeah, Sylas Stygaard,” clarified Moreland. “Owner of Stygaard Industries, founder of Skinny Plains, current colonial governor and future Legacy head if he has anything to say about it – which he certainly does.”

  “So… he’s the one responsible for settling an unviable planet, huh?” asked Deckland.

  “Heh, don’t think he hasn’t heard that before,” Moreland replied. “But the initial planetary surveys indicated this rock was a bit too mineral rich to pass up. And that’s not counting the other planets and asteroids in the system. Alpha Renway is a veritable goldmine for resource extraction. One of the richest yet found in the Frontier. Guess Governor Stygaard thought it was worth the trouble to colonize, and the Empire seems to agree with him so far, or I wouldn’t be here.”

  “I imagine this has been a tough assignment,” Berenger commented. “Coming into a colony without any law enforcement infrastructure in place must have been difficult.”

  “Normally, you’d be right, but the Pinkies had been handling things long before the Empire sent me here. It appears they’ve run a rather tight ship.”

  “Pinkies?” asked Deckland.

  “Yeah. The Pink Suns,” said Moreland, giving Deckland a curious look. “Squick, where you from that you ain’t never heard of Pinkies before?”

  “Rook’s fresh from the core worlds,” said Berenger. “He don’t know his butt from his breeches yet.”

  “Ah, that explains it,” said Moreland. “The Pink Suns are the largest private security contractors operating in the 4th quadrant. There’s hardly a colony, outpost, or space s
tation worth a spit in the Frontier that doesn’t use them. Most are former members of Imperial Space Forces. Lots of them saw action in the Hyperspace War with the Visinis. Those who weren’t military are typically retired Peacekeepers, though Pink Suns also recruit and train soldiers themselves. Stygaard had a squad of them here working security before Skinny Plains achieved colony status from the Empire.”

  “Full squad of Pinkies, eh?” said Berenger. “That’s an awful lot of manpower and expense for a small mining outpost.”

  “I tend to agree with you, but our governor is the paranoid type. Far too many valuable metals were being mined here, so I guess he was afraid theft and smuggling might be an issue. Anyway, I’m not complaining. The Pinkies may be hardcases, but they’ve certainly made my job easier. At least, they did until this case fell into my lap.”

  “What do you mean by that?” Deckland asked. “The Pink Suns are still here even after the Empire established a Peacekeeper presence?”

  “Yeah, Stygaard is keeping the Pinkies on payroll,” Moreland said. “I’ve been using them as informal deputies until I get more personnel from Barnholm, but who knows how long that will take. They’re good at keeping the peace, but they’ve proven to be a tad unqualified when it comes to assisting in an investigation, especially one as delicate as this is turning out to be. That’s a big reason why I called you guys for help. I fear this case is way over my head.”

  “Don’t worry, Chief Moreland,” Deckland said. “My highly trained and celebrated partner here has sworn to have this investigation solved by Thursday.”

  “That’s good to hear,” Moreland replied. “Why Thursday?”

  “That’s just how I set my priorities,” Berenger said.

  “Well, it’s a comfort to know you set quickly solving the killing of a little girl as so high a priority, Ranger Berenger.”

  “Ain’t it?” replied Berenger with a smile, much to Deckland’s annoyance.

  Moreland led the Rangers into one of the pod structures that was marked as a medical building. They made their way through it, taking an elevator up to an examination room where the body was in a sealed preservation tube being monitored by various pieces of equipment. The door opened with a hiss, and the men all entered, with Deckland pulling out his datapad and immediately connecting to the room’s network. Berenger didn’t bother with a datapad, approaching the preservation tube and looking through its transparent casing at the body it contained.