With Guns Blazing

by M. D. Cooper

  “Why don’t you make some limeade, my girl, while I clean off the grease and get dressed. Can’t properly have guests without my pants on, can I?” He shuffled away, moving more like a man of his age would be expected to, in comparison to his squatting efforts moments before.

  “Obviously, he’s never met your friend CooCoo,” Trey said when the old man was out of earshot.

  Reece laughed. “That’s right, he wasn’t wearing pants when you met him.” She smiled fondly. “Good times.”

  “I wouldn’t have called it that at the time,” he said as she handed him a pitcher. “But looking back on it, it’s a great story.”

  “You just described my whole life.” She opened Old Dale’s chiller and pulled out a sugar bin and candied lime rind, right where he always kept them.

  “I’m not sure whether to feel sorry for you, or envy you.” Trey filled the pitcher with water.

  “Neither. It is what it is. That’s just the approach of a Slagsider. Do the best with what you have.”

  “So this is where you’re really from?” he asked in a quiet voice.

  She’d seen him quietly studying the small, run-down houses and the untidy streets. He’d seen the people who lived outside—the roamers, as people called them, because it sounded much nicer than homeless.

  “It is. This is where I learned how to live. I learned hard truths that taught me about hard work, pragmatism, and knowing when to cheat, as well as when to look out for others.”

  “You learned right.” Old Dale reappeared, now dressed in a shirt and a much more proper pair of shorts. “You’re the poster child for growing up in Slagside.”

  She smiled fondly. “I don’t know about that. You’re far better loved than I’ll ever be.”

  He snorted. “Who said anything about love? I mean success. Survival.”

  She handed Trey the salt so he could add a pinch to the pitcher as she sliced some fresh limes. Old Dale was a lot softer inside than he pretended to be, and that was the side that she really needed to appeal to, while making her request seem like a mercenary one.

  “Speaking of survival,” she began.

  “Ah, there it is. I knew you weren’t just bringing your new boyfriend here to meet me.” Old Dale sat down in a rickety chair with a groan.

  Trey and Reece started at each other in horror.

  “He’s my partner. My friend. There’s nothing romantic between us,” she explained.

  “Ah, good. Glad to hear it, no offense, my boy.” Old Dale nodded. “I’m still rooting for Kippy.”

  The heat burning on her cheeks surprised her. Why should she be embarrassed? Was it because the old man had known that she and Kippy belonged together before she had?

  “Actually…” she stirred the limes into the water with the salt and the lime rind.

  Old Dale clapped his hands together. “Hah, you finally got together, didn’t you? About damn time.”

  “Yeah, I guess we did.”

  “You guess?” he asked.

  Trey spoke up. “She doesn’t want to jinx it by being too specific.”

  “Ahh. I gotcha. Well anyway, you were about to cleverly segue into why you’re here before I interrupted you.” Old Dale waggled his fingers at her. “Continue.”

  “Right.” She tried to remember how she’d been about to segue into it. The old guy had thrown her off with his talk of Kippy. “Oh! Right. You were talking about survival. I’ve been working at Rexcare for a while now, and I’ve seen a lot about how corporations work.”

  Old Dale nodded and Trey stirred the limeade.

  “There’s an opportunity right now. Not just for me, though it would benefit me and Trey both. But for everyone who isn’t an exec. You know how powerful the threat of a company boycott is, and how it has changed everything from products to public policy.”

  Old Dale nodded again.

  She wasn’t sure if his silence was a good thing or a bad thing at the moment, but she forged ahead. “There’s an opportunity to frame Rexcare right now either as a good company looking out for the public, or a bad one that deserves a boycott. I have one piece of legitimate dirt and one piece of potential propaganda that could be very bad for them in the public eye. I also have a piece of news that would make them look very good. We can create a PR crossroads for them, and demand a price to push people in the direction that makes Rexcare look good.”

  “And you have a personal stake in this, do you not?” Old Dale asked shrewdly.

  “We do. A very personal one. But we can work this so that it benefits not just us, but all the average people.”

  “How?” he asked.

  “We tell the people that there’s a cure for the sunsickness cancer and Rexcare hasn’t brought it to the people yet because of greed.”

  “And is that true?” he pressed.

  “Yes, on both counts, but it’s misleading, because they’re just about to bring the product to market, and it will be very affordable due to some—” she broke off and corrected herself, “due to a benefactor. The greed bit has already been dealt with.”

  “By you?” Old Dale squinted at her.

  “I did some negotiating,” she admitted. The story with Dr. Fitzmiller and the research, of course, was much more complicated, but those details didn’t matter.

  “I see.” He rubbed his chin with his thumb, looking thoughtful. “What does the public stand to gain from your proposal?”

  “They’re already getting the sunsickness cure, regardless. So that doesn’t really count. But if we can push Rexcare the way we want, we can make them look good and protect them from some embarrassing information about a misbehaving executive that the public needn’t know. And if that happens, Trey, my boss, and I get to keep our jobs and push that misbehaving executive out. Further, that misbehaving guy won’t be in a position to perpetrate harm on people, while my boss is a relatively moral guy.”

  “Everybody’s relatively moral, depending on their understanding of morality and their own rationalizations,” Old Dale mused.

  “That’s true,” she agreed. “But whose perception do you trust more—mine, or Cooper Fields?”

  His eyes narrowed at the mention of the name.

  “You know him,” she said.

  “By reputation, mostly,” Old Dale said. “Is that limeade ready?”

  Reece looked at Trey. He shrugged and pushed the pitcher toward her.

  Apparently, he didn’t feel like he was expert enough on the subject of limeade.

  “Looks good,” she told him. “Care to pour?”

  He shrugged and filled three glasses.

  Old Dale took his and sipped, looking contemplative. “Mm. This is good.”

  He fell silent and Trey looked to Reece, but she only gave him a tiny shrug. Old Dale would answer when he answered. There could be no rushing him.

  Finally, he said, “Sounds like you’ve reasoned this through, and it makes sense for you, and for the public in general. It would even work well for Rexcare, if they go with your plan. But what’s in it for me?”

  Again, Reece simply waited.

  Old Dale chuckled. “Not falling for that, are you? Okay. You’re good at what you do, and you certainly know Rexcare better than I do these days. Are you certain this is the squeeze you want to put on them, and are you certain innocent people won’t get hurt as a result? I won’t stick my neck out for anything that isn’t in the interest of the public good.”

  Trey answered quickly. “The only real risk is to us. Reece, Schramm, and me. Admittedly, the public doesn’t have a ton to gain from this, but they would get us at Rexcare instead of Cooper Fields, and we’d owe them a favor.”

  Old Dale smiled. “Ahh, but a favor owed from a powerful entity is a great deal to gain. It would be worthwhile even without that, but now I have to agree. What do you need from me?”

  “A show of solidarity and support to prove to Rexcare we can deliver what we’re threatening.”

  “And are you sure you have to threaten them to
get what you want?” Old Dale pressed.

  “No. We might be able to win without this. But why wouldn’t we put the odds in our favor as much as we possibly can?” Reece met Old Dale’s gaze as he watched her.

  He nodded slowly. “Fair enough. I’ll put the word out. We should have a big enough voice by tomorrow. Will that give you enough time?”

  “And then some,” Trey said, relief in his voice. “We have five days.”

  “Oh. By then, I could have half of Ohiyo formed up into an unruly mob for you,” Old Dale said.

  Reece grinned. “No unruly mobs, please. Innocent people tend to get mixed up in them and someone always gets hurt. All we want is a mere threat, with some proof to back it up.”

  “Well, it’s certainly a more boring way to go, but it’s also less effort. Okay, then.”

  Reece relaxed. Old Dale would keep his word. He never agreed to something he wasn’t willing to go all-in for. She took a long gulp of her limeade and found that it was, indeed, the perfect mix of sweetness and tartness.

  “Now that that’s settled,” she said, feeling a wickedness seize her. “Why don’t you perform The Way to the Old Ugly Pig for Trey? I think he’d like it.”

  She lifted her glass and turned her head to give Trey a gleefully villainous grin that Old Dale couldn’t see. Truth be told, she loved his songs, although the belly part could be a bit much to handle. His songs were the music of her youth, and for once, her threadbare childhood was going to be of help to her.

  THE DEAL

  DATE: 06.07.8948 (Adjusted Gregorian)

  LOCATION: Slagside, Ohiyo, Akonwara

  REGION: Machete System, PED 4B, Orion Freedom Alliance

  “I like Old Dale,” Trey said on the way back to their neighborhood. “I think my musical tastes lie elsewhere, though.”

  “I won’t tell him you said that,” she promised.

  He grinned. “Do all of his songs center around livestock?”

  “Not all. He’s got one about a smelly sock, and one about a washerwoman wife that’s quite a barnstormer. But a whole lot of them are about animals. I don’t know why.”

  Trey shrugged, so she did too.

  “Think we have everything we need to push Rexcare to do what we want?” he asked.

  “I think we’ve done everything humanly possible, and all we can do now is wait.”

  “That was some pretty Class-A fixing, by the way. I find I much prefer the underhanded wheeling and dealing part of this job to the part where people are shooting at us.”

  “Huh.” She regarded him thoughtfully. “I’ve always preferred the hands-on stuff.”

  “This does not surprise me about you.”

  She shrugged and leaned her head against the headrest of her taxi seat. “Wake me up when we get there.”

  The movement of the vehicle had started to lull her to sleep when Trey gave a loud snort of laughter.

  “What?” She opened her eyes to look at him.

  “That one about the cow sandwich.”

  She grinned. “I knew you’d eventually come to love Old Dale’s songs.”

  “Love is a strong word.”

  “You love them,” she insisted.

  “If you say so.”

  “I’m going to tell him the cow sandwich one is your favorite. He’ll insist on singing it at your wedding, if you ever have one,” she told him closing her eyes.

  “Now you’re just being mean.”

  Eyes closed, she simply smiled in response.

  * * * * *

  Reece liked winning.

  She intended to win against Rexcare. As Marky would say, the cards were in her favor. All she had to do was play her hand.

  Nonetheless, there was the possibility for things to go wrong. If they did, they’d go very, very wrong. She’d lose her career and without it, on Akon, she, Aunt Ruth, and Rio would have a hard time surviving. Trey and Dex would have the same problem, as would Schramm.

  The stakes were high, and before she showed up to play the game, she wanted to make the most of the next five days.

  Just in case.

  She pushed through the items in her closet, undecided. Considering she spent most of her time working, she had few things to dress up in.

  A form-fitting black dress she sometimes wore to Rexcare company events seemed like her best choice. But then…why dress up?

  She was who she was. She liked her black pants and tank, and her jacket. She liked her boots. If the real her wasn’t good enough, then it didn’t matter anyway.

  After a little extra time on her hair and applying a shiny lip balm, she decided she was as dressed up as she was going to get.

  Guns or no guns?

  Guns, of course. She wore her weapons belt per usual. Whether or not it was legal for her to do so, she wasn’t sure. She was neither an active Rexcare employee nor a suspended one. Technically. But she wasn’t going to be parted from her Rikulfs without a major traumatic event.

  Right. She was ready. She slung an overnight bag over her shoulder.

  Rio sat on her nightstand, watching her with big, wide eyes. She rubbed his head and scratched his ears. “Good boy.”

  Downstairs, on her way out for the evening, she paused before she got to the door. Aunt Ruth looked up.

  “Going out, dear?”

  “Yes. I’ll probably be out all night, so don’t wait up.”

  “Okay. Have fun.” Aunt Ruth smiled. Was there an extra glint of knowing in her eyes?

  Reece had her suspicions.

  She hurried out into the hot starslight of the waning perihelion day. Before too long, they’d move into the three-month night. Of course the planet’s two artificial suns would give them a regular day-night cycle. Reece looked forward to having sunrises and sunsets again. There was something comforting about their daily cycles.

  At the door of the Ringtoad, she hesitated. Was this too much, too fast?

  Maybe, but that was how she did things. All in or all out. No in-between.

  When she entered, she didn’t see Kippy. Her heart dropped. Maybe he was in the back?

  She hoped he was in the back.

  She hesitated, then sat in her regular chair. Drumming her fingers on the bar, she waited impatiently.

  He didn’t show up.

  “Hey, Reece,” Skye, one of Kippy’s regular bartenders greeted her. “Can I get you something?”

  She could just order a whiskey. She could pretend that was all she was here for. She could wait and see if he showed up, or just go back home.

  She could do a lot of things, but she wasn’t going to.

  “Hey, Skye. Is Kippy around?”

  “He went to the cellar to do inventory. Did he know you were coming?”

  “No, I just dropped in.”

  Skye nodded. “He might not be up for a while, so why don’t you go down, if you don’t want to wait?”

  “Thanks. I will.”

  The stairway to the cellar was a little dark. She should remind Kippy to add some lighting. The temperature dropped quickly as she went down the stairs.

  “We don’t have as much rum as I thought we—” Kippy came into view and broke off when he saw her. “Hey. I thought you were Skye. Everything okay? I thought you’d be out working your nefarious magic.”

  She smiled. “All done. I’ve done everything I can. Now I just have to hope Rexcare sees things my way.”

  “That was quick.” He stepped closer.

  “That’s how I operate.”

  “Really.” It was just a word, but he somehow made it sound terribly suggestive.

  What was the old saying? No guts, no glory?

  She stepped closer and put her arms around his neck. “Really.”

  His teasing grin faltered, and he looked uncertain.

  She leaned in and kissed him.

  “You’re not just here for a drink, are you? If you were, you’d already have it in hand.” He skimmed his thumb over her cheekbone.

  “You’re right.”

/>   “Are you sure?”

  “Well, you wouldn’t have to twist my arm too hard to get me to have a drink.” She tickled the back of his neck.

  “No, I meant…”

  She grinned. “I know what you meant. And yes, I’m sure.”

  He pretended to edge away. “Well, I don’t know. This is all so sudden.”

  She laughed and the little bit of awkwardness she had melted away. “Yeah, just twenty-something years.”

  He nodded, putting on a show of being thoughtful. “Well, when you put it that way, you do seem pretty convincing. I see why you’re so good at your job. Let’s go.”

  “Right now? You don’t need to finish inventory.”

  “Oh. You’re right. Here.” He pulled her closer and gave her a long, slow kiss. “There. Now let’s go.

  Laughing, they ran up the stairs and out of the Ringtoad without saying a word to anyone.

  * * * * *

  “What is your defense?”

  Reece had never sat in on an arbitration with the board. There had been times when she’d stood in front of the board to deliver a report, but only on two occasions. Mostly, the board of a corporation was almost a myth that lived behind closed doors.

  Not today.

  Reece stood straight, her chin high. “I don’t need one. I acted in the best interest of my employer at all times, even when I was acted against by one of the company’s own agents. In that light, I’ve been an exemplary employee who deserves to be rewarded, not punished. The same goes for my partner, Trey. We have both behaved to the highest standard in the company’s best interest.”

  Molgen, one of the middling board members who tended to go along with the pack, said, “You call blackmailing us with the threat of exposure the highest standard?”

  She met his gaze. “I do, when it is done in the company’s best interests.”

  “And organizing a potential boycott, and threatening us with that as well?” another middling board member asked.

  “Yes.” She looked at all twelve of them, one by one, taking her time. She locked eyes with each for a full two seconds before moving on to the next. “You hired me to be your fixer. I’ve done that. I’ve saved you, and given you the tools to become even more successful. The only question during this arbitration is whether you’re worthy of the effort I’ve made on your behalf.”