by M. D. Cooper
“It was my idea.” Grunt’s cheeks reddened, and he bit his lower lip. “I hate the SSF. What they put me through. They said only three deployments and then I could leave, but they kept re-upping me. Over and over…I missed my wife. I missed my kids. And then the nightmares…” Grunt shook his head. “They’re never silent. They never go away.”
Ricket saw the despair and quiet chaos on Grunt’s face. She felt bad for him. Would’ve felt worse, if he hadn’t tried to blow up her friends and other servicemen.
That was good because Ricket didn’t want to destroy him. She wanted to bring him close, but only close enough to talk.
“So, what, you got a bum rap? Someone forced you to enlist?”
Grunt shook his head. “No, nobody forced me. I wanted to serve Silstrand. I love my home, but I didn’t know…I didn’t know how hard it’d be to be away. It was OK at first….”
“Until you changed your mind?” Ricket snorted and shook her head.
“I didn’t change my mind!” He banged his fists against the chair. “I couldn’t do it anymore!”
“They didn’t put you in jail for leaving your post. They could’ve, but instead they took pity on you, right? They let you return to your wife and kids. You got exactly what you wanted.”
“She left me,” Grunt’s words exploded out. “Said I wasn’t the same. Said I scared her. Well, I was scared too. Angry. Forceful. I couldn’t deal with regular people anymore, and it’s all the space force’s fault!”
“I get it. You wanted to teach them a lesson.”
“Yes. No!” Grunt’s eyes bugged. “I didn’t do it for revenge. I—” He sighed and looked away.
“Give us something to use and it can reduce your sentence. You have any idea what happens when you blow up a military convoy? You made a rocket launcher out of black market Revolution Fleet salvage parts that you stole. You’re looking at a sentence so long that rejuv might not even get you out of it alive.”
Grunt sighed, and a whine escaped the corner of his lips. “Oh man, I didn’t want that. I didn’t…I didn’t want any of this. I just…I needed the money. You know how hard it is to live in Silstrand City? The nice parts are expensive. The bad parts, nobody wants to live there if they can help it.”
Ricket hated hearing things like that. She blocked the implications from her mind as she leaned forward again. “Who offered you money to attack the convoy? If you want to see your kid and Yvonne again, I’m going to need something to bring to my bosses. A name. A place?”
Grunt stared up at the light. “Oh stars, she’s going to kill me.” He rocked back and forth, his bouncing knees hitting the underside of the table.
“You love her, don’t you?” Ricket pressed.
“He—uh—we call it the underbelly. Deep in the Virt-Go. There’s a pub called the Rocket. Seedy place. Guy slipped me a token there. Said I was perfect for a job. Then I could collect the bounty.”
The Virt-Go. Silstrand’s Virtual Realty game, huge with college students, and apparently, low-level thugs desperate for a way out.
“The bounty?”
Grunt nodded. “Big bounty went out on Rhoads’s head. Someone big wants him dead. I just want the money.”
“Do you have this guy’s name?”
“Only the token he passed me. I was supposed to activate it at the Rocket when the job was done.”
Ricket nodded, wondering how much of Grunt’s success had been tied to pure dumb luck. “Pass it to me, and I’ll use it to collect evidence on your behalf.”
Grunt shook his head. “You’ll hang me out to dry. I know your type.”
“My type?” Ricket raised her eyebrows.
“Yeah. Beautiful, doe-eyed, on my side. Until you get what you want.”
“I’d never do that. I want the truth. I want people safe. And if you help me, I’ll help you. That’s my job. It’s what I’m good at, Grunt. I wouldn’t be here talking to you otherwise.”
Ricket’s avatar shrugged.
Grunt sighed. “I’ll send you the token, but don’t screw me over. I’ve had enough of that.”
“Thanks, Grunt.”
“Jeff,” he mumbled. “My mom named me ‘Jeff’.”
“A fine name.” Ricket pushed her chair back and stood. “The type of name someone can wear with pride.”
“Maybe once. Nobody respects Grunt.”
Ricket felt bad for the guy, but couldn’t let him off the hook completely. He could’ve killed Kylie or any of the soldiers assigned to the convoy.
The guards opened the door as she approached, and she couldn’t help but steal a glance at the sad, utterly defeated man who sat at the table, hooded eyes staring at nothing at all, before she strode out into the hall.
As she walked through the SAFI Tower, nervous energy buzzed all around her—much of it due to the arrival of Paul Rhoads. The people of Silstrand had been preparing for his trial for a long time. When the trial finally started, it’d be a whirlwind case. A theatrical performance practically.
While Silstrand was generally a fair and just system, everyone knew Paul was guilty. People on all parts of the political spectrum wanted to watch him burn.
Ricket’s heart mostly ached for Kylie. She really needed to catch a break. How much betrayal and hurt could she take?
At the end of the hall, Ricket caught sight of Grayson striding toward her. He still hadn’t cleaned up from the assault, but appeared to be mostly fine. They met halfway.
“Well?” Grayson asked.
“Our initial suspicions were correct; this guy is no mastermind. I doubt he should’ve made it into the SSF in the first place.”
Grayson winced. “We’re not perfect—that much I’ve come to realize over the years. Did he tell you who he’s working for?”
“He passed over his intel, a token. Rogers and I will go and try to meet this guy in the Virt-Go.”
“The Virt-Go,” Grayson murmured. “I knew we should’ve been actively policing that virtual world more. I’ll alert the Silstrand Police once we wrap up our investigation.”
Ricket nodded. “We’ll see if we can find out who he represents—if anyone. He said that someone put a big price tag on Paul’s head. We gotta wonder why.”
“There’s probably a whole list of people, feel free to pick any one of them,” Grayson said as they continued down the hall toward the officer’s lounge.
Ricket pushed open the door to the well-appointed room. The far side was lined with floor-to-ceiling windows, giving an appealing view of Silstrand’s most beautiful spacescrapers. In the center of the room, surrounded by
cozy sofas and chairs, stood a long walnut table covered in platters of food and drink.
Rogers sat eating a sandwich as a servitor brought him a cup of coffee and a slice of lemon blueberry cheesecake.
“ME NEXT, BOT,” Mr. Fizzle Pop said from his place in the center of the table.
Laura sighed.
Ricket wondered when Laura had developed a pet name for the cat.
“SORRY. THANKS, BOT.” Mr. Fizzle Pop went back to licking his cup of coffee.
“Hey, guys. Grayson, my man! You hungry? You want a sandwich?” Rogers rushed over to greet them, giving Ricket a hug. “I’m glad you’re all right.”
“Me too,” Ricket whispered. “We have a mission.”
Rogers looked pained. “But I ate like three sandwiches and half a pizza.”
Ricket punched him playfully in the stomach. “You really need to learn to control yourself.”
“I can’t disagree with that…. Hey, Grayson, you all right?”
Ricket turned her attention toward the colonel and noticed that he did look a little pale. “Well, we were knocked out of the sky. Maybe he needs to sit down.”
“You actually have an uplifted cat?” Grayson suddenly blurted out. “I thought Kylie was joking.”
“Well, he’s Bubbs’s cat, but you’d be surprised how useful he is at…distracting people,” Rogers exclaimed.
“Who’s this Bubbs?” Grayson’s eyebrows furrowed.
If Ricket wasn’t mistaken, he seemed to be angry about Mr. Fizzle Pop. She could understand where he was coming from.
“He grows on you with time,” Ricket explained. “He’s just so…fluffy.”
Rogers threw his arm around Grayson’s shoulder. “See, man. You go and leave us, and this is what happens. The cat pretty much took your spot.”
Grayson glowered. “Thanks a lot.”
Mr. Fizzle Pop looked up from his cup, coffee dripping off his whiskers. “HEY.”
And then he burped.
Grayson blinked and rubbed his forehead. “Please be careful. You don’t want to hear the horror stories I’ve heard about what an uplifted cat can do in the wrong situations. If not properly trained….”
“He’s good,” Ricket said with a smile. “He saved our bacon on Dante.”
Mr. Fizzle Pop’s ears twitched. “WE GOT BACON? WHERE, ASSHOLE? WHERE?” He bounced around, then raced in a circle.
Collectively, they ignored the cat, except for Grayson, who sighed. “Fill Rogers in on what you need to do. I’m going to get cleaned up and then rescue Kylie from a somewhat well-meaning general. Which reminds me; tonight, I’m taking her out.”
“On a date?” Ricket asked.
Rogers whistled. “Did you even ask our permission to do that?”
Grayson glared at him. “It’d be best if we don’t tell her about…the bounty on her brother’s head…until tomorrow. Let her have a night off.”
Ricket didn’t know about the wisdom in that. It sounded like lying to her friend, but Rogers nodded quickly. “We won’t say anything until tomorrow.”
“Rogers,” Ricket’s eyes widened. “We can’t—”
“If Kylie knows her brother is a target, what do you think happens?”
Ricket sighed. “She’ll never leave his side. She’ll never relax. But if something happens to him, if he gets hurt—”
“He’ll be in the most secure prison we have,” Grayson replied. “No one will reach him overnight. It’s what happens tomorrow and on that concerns me, but I’d like to worry about that tomorrow. Give Kylie one night.”
“More like give you one night, you player.” Rogers smacked Grayson on the shoulder.
Ricket wasn’t sure if he should keep playing it so loose with the colonel, but Grayson actually half smiled.
“Be careful and let me know what you find out there—privately. Keep an eye on your cat, and whatever you do, make sure it never gets access to the Link.”
With that, Grayson left, and Ricket wondered what was so wrong with a cat getting Link access. She stared at Mr. Fizzle Pop as the servitor refilled his coffee saucer. Happily, the cat’s tail swished back and forth.
“WE NEED BOT. GOOD COFFEE.”
“He’s right, you know. We do.” Rogers gave a saucy wink. “Imagine if we had better coffee?”
Ricket thanked the servitor as it handed her a mug of coffee on cue before it returned to the dessert table.
“I don’t think…oh, oh, this is good coffee,” she enthused.
Rogers nodded, expectant.
“GOT COOKIES TOO,” Mr. Fizzle Pop said with sparkly eyes.
“She’ll kill us if we get a servitor, Rogers. You know how much she loves her bad coffee.”
Rogers glanced at Mr. Fizzle Pop, and the cat smirked. “Leave that to me and the wily cat.”
“Later, the both of you. You and I need to get ready to pretend we’re seedy characters looking to get hired for a job. Inside a sim, no less.”
Rogers placed his hand on the small of her back, right above her ass, and pulled her in for a kiss. “We’re not already seedy?”
“No.” Ricket wrapped her arms tight around him. “We’re cheeky, not seedy. And I hope that never changes.”
Rogers growled quietly against her cheek, and Ricket laughed, resting her chin on his shoulder. she said privately, so the cat wouldn’t eavesdrop.
Ricket hoped that was true.
“Back to the spaceport, all three of us. I have to return that pizza shuttle before the dude gets really pissed.” Rogers chuckled, though he looked a bit worried.
Mr. Fizzle Pop furrowed his brow. “AWW. FIELD TRIP OVER?”
“It’s over, pal. Fit as many petite cakes in your mouth as you can,” Rogers said. “It’s time for us to hit the road.”
SNARF. GROWL. GAG.
Ricket scrunched up her nose and turned her head away. “Did you have to say that to him?”
Rogers chuckled. “Having an uplifted cat is kinda like having a brother around. The things I’m going to teach him…”
He grimaced briefly, and Ricket placed a hand on his cheek. She recognized the signs of a headache when she saw them.
“You’re getting more headaches all the time. I think you should see someone.”
He shook his head. “They’re manageable.”
“But more frequent. I know flying the Barbaric Queen means everything to you, but we could change how the piloting system works.”
“I told you,” Rogers said with a sigh. “There’s a reason it’s set up like this. It’s faaaar superior. I can see things when I’m linked up that my naked eyes can’t. React faster than using controls. I can’t give that up; it could mean the lives of everyone aboard the ship, of you. Everyone.”
“And your life?” Ricket raised an eyebrow. “The side effects are growing worse. Eventually, Kylie’s going to notice, and you won’t be able to hide behind me anymore.”
“I’ll…think about it, OK? They’re just headaches.”
“And visions. You see things, sense things, before they happen.”
“Yeah, I’m a real headcase, Ricket, but it hasn’t happened in over a month. I’m going to be OK.” He opened the door leading out of the lounge and gave her the once-over.
Ricket crossed her arms, her jaw tightening. “All right, I guess I have no choice but to trust you.”
“GO TIME?” Mr. Fizzle Pop asked. “CONVERSATION DULL LIKE FLAT LINT PIECE.”
Rogers chuckled. “See? Told you it was nothing.”
Ricket shook her head and followed Rogers and Mr. Fizzle Pop.
“We aren’t siding with the cat!”
SECRETS
STELLAR DATE: 02.18.8948 (Adjusted Years)
LOCATION: Dessen (dwarf planet in outer system)
REGION: Silstrand System, Silstrand Al
liance
Smithers, the disgraced President of S&H Defensive Armaments, sat in his mostly dark office—barring the holo effect behind his desk depicting a blazing star. The presentation used to impress people. They’d be in awe of both his company and his position.
Before he was effectively neutered by Tanis Richards.
She’d shown up, claimed damages and infractions regarding the nanotech that she’d licensed to him, and took control of S&H.
However, she was too busy signing systems into her alliance to stay behind. It meant that S&H was under direct Silstrand leadership, and Smithers answered to them. He was no more in charge of his now-reviled company than the night cleaning crew.
Castrated. Stripped of the prestige he had worked so hard to achieve. No one outwardly laughed at him, but Smithers bet they did in private. He knew they’d whisper about him in their offices and at the parties he struggled to get invites to.
But he’d show them all, wouldn’t he? It was time to engage his retirement plan. One that would still see he got the rejuv treatments that kept him spry, young, and handsome.
Smithers leaned back in his seat, and his HUD was flooded with the image of the attack on the military convoy as it approached the river that bisected Silstrand City. Utter chaos erupted between soldiers and hostiles.
Fools, Smithers thought, an outright attack on the convoy would never work. If something was to be done, something gained, they needed to be more covert. Sneaky. It was the only way to get away and enjoy the fringe benefits of their success.
Amidst all the chaos in the scene, Smithers spied a man and woman escaping out the back of one of the overturned trucks. He paused the holovid and zoomed in. He highlighted the woman’s face.
The one who had by accident or on purpose stolen the nanotech that S&H had weaponized. Now that his hard work had been taken back by Tanis Richards, Kylie had the only sample that Smithers could get his hands on.
He rubbed his chin and thought over his next course of action. Whatever he did, there’d be no turning back, and he had a buyer on the line, didn’t he?