Galactic Vice

by Jake Bible

  “But you did steal that roller,” the Jesperian stated.

  “Nope,” Etch said as his claws slid from the tips of his fingers. Except for the two that had snapped off in the alley. The tips of those fingers welled with blood that threatened to drop onto the disgustingly dirty plasticrete floor of the cell. “I haven’t stolen shit since I landed here on Jafla Base.”

  “Why are you here?” the Jesperian asked, standing tall as Etch approached him. “Huh? What brings an ugly halfer piece of terpigshit like you to Jafla? What brings you and your maybe not-so-legit chits to the base?”

  “You a snitch?” Etch asked. A few of the inmates drew sharp breaths. Other than those noises, the cell went deathly quiet. “You’re asking a lot of questions. Most folks stick to themselves in jail. Stay out of other people’s business. Why do you want to know so much about me? Huh? The cops paying you with those tacos you Jesperians love so much. Why do you call them tacos? They aren’t food, just some nasty drug dust that gets your kind high as the moons.”

  “You’ll want to watch what you say, halfer,” the Jesperian snarled as Etch drew closer. “I won’t tell you again, scumbag. You don’t know shit about the ways of Jesperians.”

  “Sure I do,” Etch said. “You’re a race of junkies. That simple. Maybe you know the assholes that jumped me? All junkies know each other, right?”

  “I’m confused,” the Lipian said, sounding like she’d worked the last few of her brain cells into overdrive. “Are you mad at him because he’s Jesperian or because he’s a junkie? Or because he called you a halfer? I can’t keep up.”

  “Shut your mouth, whore,” the Jesperian spat.

  “I’m not mad, just puzzled,” Etch said.

  “That’s like being confused,” the Lipian said, looking proud of herself for understanding what synonyms were.

  “Close,” Etch said. He was almost within arm’s reach of the Jesperian. “Puzzled is more like not being able to figure out the answer. There’s a difference.”

  “Who fucking cares?” the Jesperian shouted. “Why are we listening to this halfer piece of terpigshit?”

  “Because they all want to know if I’m right,” Etch said, stepping right up to the Jesperian so the two men were almost nose to nose. “They want to know if you’re a snitch.”

  The two faced off for several seconds before the Jesperian laughed weakly and gave Etch a soft shove. Etch took two steps back and shook his head.

  “That’s not a denial,” Etch said as he backed away then turned and sat down next to the Lipian. Etch fixed the Jesperian with a hard gaze. “Snitch.”

  The Jesperian’s eyes were filled with fear. He tried laughing it off as he looked around at the other inmates, but no one would look him in the eye.

  Except for one.

  A Leforian. Female by the size and shape of her chitinous exoskeleton, although it was always hard to tell. Leforians were a mammalian insect race with dual skeletons. One internal, like most humanoid races, and one external, like an insect. Leforians had four arms and the general appearance of a friendly Great Dane dog, if that Great Dane had mated with a massive Dung beetle.

  Generally, Leforians were a mild-mannered race that were affectionately referred to as “moms” because they naturally tended to worry a lot about their allies. They were fierce and loyal fighters, and very effective in combat due to being close to seven feet tall.

  The Leforian woman that stood up and started walking towards the Jesperian did not look mild-mannered. And no one was about to call her Mom.

  “Strip,” the Leforian said, her quad-jawed mandibles clicking with obvious anger. “Drop those pants and take off that shirt.”

  “No way,” the Jesperian said. “I’m not stripping. Not in here with you lot. More than one of you is a fiddler, that’s for Eight Million Gods damn sure. Not letting you get your rocks off by looking at my naked skin.”

  “Strip or I strip you,” the Leforian said.

  “Not a chance in all the Hells!” the Jesperian shouted then spun about and began banging on the cell’s wall. “Guards! This crazy bitch Leforian wants to rape my ass! Guards! Get me out of here!”

  “You’re not really gonna rape his ass, are you?” Etch asked as the Leforian passed by him.

  The Leforian hissed. That was all the response Etch got, so he shrugged and leaned back against the wall.

  “This isn’t good,” the Lipian said.

  “Probably not,” Etch said.

  The guards didn’t arrive in time.

  The Leforian grabbed the Jesperian by the throat and lifted him up off his feet. With her other arms, she tore the man’s clothes away as he tried to fight her off, but it was obvious he was fighting to breathe more than he was fighting to stay dressed.

  Naked and almost choked out, the Jesperian fell to the floor as the Leforian suddenly let him go. She kicked his clothes out of the way and towered over him as he coughed and spat, his eyes watering and filled with pain.

  “Arms up,” the Leforian ordered.

  “Come…on,” the Jesperian gasped. “This shit is nuts. Why are you listening to a halfer piece of—?”

  The Jesperian didn’t get to finish as his mouth met the Leforian’s right foot. Teeth shattered, lips split, blood flew.

  Every inmate except for Etch turned away at that point. No one wanted to see what was going to happen.

  With two of her arms, the Leforian grabbed the Jesperian by the wrists and yanked up. She grinned, her mandibles stretching at a grotesque angle.

  “Do you see it?” the Leforian asked, not looking at anyone specifically. Etch knew who she was talking to.

  “Yeah,” Etch said, daring to look. He stood back up and walked over to the Jesperian then knelt down and studied a small, bruised looking lump in the man’s left armpit. “Standard bug. Cops are probably listening right now to see what extra crap they can get on all of us.”

  Etch stood up and slowly, carefully patted the Leforian on the left arm that had a hold of the Jesperian’s right arm.

  “You should let him go,” Etch said. “Guards will be here soon to bail his worthless ass out.”

  The words had barely left Etch’s mouth when a yellow light began flashing in the cell as a thick, bluish mist descended from the ceiling.

  “Or they could just gas us,” Etch said before falling over unconscious just like everyone else, including the Leforian, in the cell.

  11.

  Etch stood outside the Jafla Base PD headquarters and glanced up at the filtered light that came down in strong, sparkling streams from the far-off dome above. He blinked a few times and rubbed at the back of his neck. His mouth tasted like bile from all the puking he did when he finally regained consciousness. The cell floor had been covered in multi-species vomit by the time he’d woken up, so he hadn’t really cared too much that he added to the mess.

  Having been moved from ship to roller, alley to holding cell, Etch hadn’t gotten a very good look at Jafla Base after landing. He gave the area by the municipal building a cursory glance. A few eyes were on him, he knew that. Eyes were always on those that left a municipal building. Fleet eyes, local law enforcement of various divisions, small-time criminals waiting for a buddy or waiting for a target, big-time criminals checking to see if they could spot a snitch. Eyes everywhere, so Etch’s perusal of his surroundings was brief.

  Tan and beige.

  That was what he saw. Buildings made from the local stone and brick. All tan and beige. Etch was positive most of the facades were simply that: facades designed to mimic the color of the planet. Under the brick and stone were frames, girders, and walls made of plasticrete and various metal alloys.

  Those beings walking the sidewalks were mostly professionals, but Etch spotted more than a few members of the lower classes. Etch had to consider himself part of that class. Even coming up in the Galactic Fleet then in Galactic Vice, Etch never felt apart from his very humble, and at times brutally meager, beginnings.

  The beings
hurrying by in business suits and expensive outfits made him uncomfortable. The ones wearing torn pants and stained shirts, the ones that lingered by the street corners and kept glancing at the shadowy areas of buildings and mouths of alleys, those were the beings Etch could relate to. It made undercover work a lot easier.

  Rollers of various sizes and shapes rushed by on the street, carrying passengers, cargo, secrets. Etch studied the traffic pattern for a while, trying to get a feel for the flow of the base, but after a few minutes, the vehicles began to blur. The streets of Jafla Base were essentially no different than the streets of any other settlement he’d been on. People going about their lives, completely unaware that death and danger were driving alongside them, walking next to them, standing there in one of those shadowy areas or even on the street corner they were about to approach.

  Ignorance was bliss. A bliss Etch mourned the loss of.

  Tired of musing on the great mysteries and philosophies of galactic existence, Etch looked left, looked right, patted at his pockets, sighed, then chose a direction and started walking. He had nothing. Other than freedom. That had been easy since somehow the municipal vid surveillance of the area around the bar in the Mesker District had ended up all garbled and corrupt. There was nothing to tie Etch to stealing the roller, which was good since he didn’t steal it and the truth would have blown his cover.

  Thank you, McDade, Etch thought as he shoved his hands into his pants pockets and kept walking.

  Getting clipped by the cops hadn’t been part of the original plan when they first landed, but Etch knew Angie couldn’t pass up an opportunity. She’d wanted him in that cell, at that time, with those inmates. Etch felt that in his bones. His aching bones.

  Having been beaten senseless once then beaten senseless again then knocked out by riot mist hadn’t exactly been rejuvenating. Despite his time in a med pod on the way to Jafla, Etch felt like he could sleep for a few decades and still need a century’s worth of rest after that. Every single molecule in his body ached.

  “Where are you staying?” a voice called from almost right behind him.

  Etch spun about, claws extended, and nearly slit the throat of the Lipian prostitute. She squealed in fear and stumbled backwards, tripping over her own feet then falling hard on her ass.

  “Sorry,” Etch said and retracted his claws. He held out his hands to the Lipian. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “I scared you,” the Lipian said as she took Etch’s offered hands so he could help her up. “I knew you were half Cervile. I should have known better. Twitchy kitties…”

  Her wide, almost innocent eyes studied Etch’s face.

  “What?” Etch asked.

  “You don’t seem like a crook,” the Lipian said.

  “Thanks,” Etch said with a sly grin. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “Oh, it is one,” the Lipian said and stuck out her hand. “Guska.”

  “That a name?” Etch asked.

  “Yeah, dummy, it’s my name,” the Lipian, Guska, said and giggled. “What else would it be?”

  “Just checking,” Etch said as he took her hand and gave it a quick shake. “I’m Etch. Etch Knowles.”

  “It is very nice to meet you, Etch Knowles,” Guska said.

  She smiled with true warmth and friendliness, but Etch could see the agenda behind her eyes. He couldn’t tell what the agenda was, but he knew she had one.

  “Listen, it is nice meeting you too, Guska, but I’m flat broke,” Etch said. He held his hands up to show empty palms. “As much as I’d like to, I can’t afford you right now.”

  Guska gasped and shook her head. “No, no, I’m not trying to pick you up. No, not that at all. The cops got your chits, I know that. No, no, I was just trying to see if you were staying someplace already or if you need somewhere to crash until you get back on your feet. Jafla hasn’t been so nice to you, has it?”

  “Not really, no,” Etch said and narrowed his eyes, he took a couple steps back. “What’s the hustle?”

  “No hustle,” Guska replied, not looking offended at all. “You shared your food with me in the cell. Most people wouldn’t spit on a Lipian let alone give her their food. You were nice to me, I want to be nice to you until you can get up on your feet.”

  The agenda was still there, but so was honest sincerity. Etch could see that Guska had something more in mind than simple charity, but his gut told him she actually wanted to help him out. A debate raged inside Etch’s brain for several milliseconds as he wondered if taking Guska up on her offer would be a distraction or if it was the break he was looking for.

  Only one way to find out…

  “Yeah, I could use a place to crash,” Etch said and pointed his fingers at himself. “But I’m not a freeloader. I can help out with whatever you need helping out with.”

  “Since you’re offering…” Guska said carefully.

  “Yes?”

  “You any good with those claws?” Guska asked, glancing at Etch’s hands. “If someone was hassling me, could you maybe get them to stop hassling me? Flash those sharps you got and scare them with your cat eyes?”

  “Depends on how big this being is that’s hassling you,” Etch said. “Gwreq skin is too tough to get through, so if your pimp is a—”

  “I don’t have a pimp,” Guska snapped. “You think I would have been locked up if I had a pimp? Nah, all the pimps pay off the local law boys and girls to keep the coochie moving. I’m an independent contractor.”

  She said it with so much pride that Etch laughed. He instantly felt bad about it when Guska’s face dropped and she looked away.

  “Shit. Sorry, I’m not laughing at you,” Etch said. “You sounded so earnest that it was funny. But funny in a good way.”

  “Earnest? What’s that?” Guska asked.

  “Shit, I don’t know how to define it,” Etch said. “Uh… It’s like being sincere and eager at the same time. Eagerly sincere? You know what those words mean?”

  “Yes,” she snapped. “I’m not stupid.”

  “Don’t think you are,” Etch replied.

  They stood there in awkward silence until Guska met Etch’s gaze again.

  “My landlord likes to break into my apartment during the day when I’m sleeping,” Guska said. She didn’t elaborate.

  “What race is he?” Etch asked.

  “Dornopheous,” Guska answered, shaking her head. “Mostly. Looks like he has lizard in him, but he’s mostly made of putty. Doesn’t look halfer. More like a quarter or whatever.”

  Her eyes went wide.

  “Sorry!” she exclaimed and gripped Etch by the biceps. “I didn’t mean to be rude. I’m not bigoted towards halfers or any mixed race beings.”

  “All good,” Etch said as Guska’s grip turned into quick caresses of his arms. Then she let go abruptly. Etch smiled and moved a little closer to her. “So, your landlord is a maybe Dornopheous that likes to come into your apartment uninvited?”

  “Yep. Maybe you can show him that’s not a good idea?”

  “I can do that,” Etch said. “You sleep during the day?”

  She rolled her eyes and cocked a hip.

  “Right. Of course,” Etch said. “I have the same schedule. Or did when I had chits. No schedule now.”

  Guska hooked her arm in his and pulled him back in the direction of the PD headquarters.

  “My place is this way,” she said as she got them walking again. “What do you do that has you up at night?”

  “I play,” Etch said. “I have a knack with the tiles. Came to Jafla because I heard there were some solid tile games going on. Last place I played got raided and a few people were hurt bad. Kind of wanted to put some space between me and that place. Start fresh.”

  Etch laughed.

  “Can’t start more fresh than dead broke, right?”

  Guska laughed too and leaned her shoulder into Etch. “Broke is pretty fresh.”

  They walked for a few blocks, Etch studying each new ar
ea as much as he could without looking like he was casing the neighborhood. Curiosity was normal, a full-on visual scan was suspect. Especially since he knew he and Guska were being followed.

  “We have friends,” Etch said after the fifth block. “Maybe we should get a taxi?”

  “With what?” Guska asked. “Cops got my night’s haul too. I’m as fresh as you are.”

  “Oh, crap,” Etch said. “Sorry. Any idea who is following us?”

  “Yeah,” Guska said.

  Etch tried to stop, but she pulled on him hard to keep him moving.

  “Guska? Is this a setup? Is this just a bunch of terpigshit and all you’re doing is leading me to some new alley where I’ll get my ass handed to me again? I’m not lying about being broke, so this will not be a profitable hit.”

  “No, it’s cool,” Guska said. “They’re making sure you’re not being followed.”

  “But I am being followed,” Etch said. There was a hint of honest panic in his voice. Etch had to wonder if maybe McDade was having him followed. He hoped not or he might be made for a GVD at any second. “Who are they?”

  “They’re good,” Guska said. “And they aren’t the ones to worry about.”

  “I worry about anyone that follows me,” Etch said and tried again to stop and turn around. But Guska held tight and kept him moving.

  Etch glanced down at her hands and wondered just exactly how strong she was. Before the thought could go too far, Guska said, “Here we are.”

  Etch looked up at the sign they stood under: Zhi’s Diner and Rest Area.

  “Rest area?” Etch asked.

  “Neutral territory,” Guska said. “Everyone knows that if you’re in Zhi’s then there’s no trouble. Zhi’s a great guy, and tolerates a lot, but he won’t allow beefs on his property. Start something and you meet Sham.”

  “Sham?”

  “Chassfornian,” Guska said like it was no big deal.

  “You have got to be shitting me?” Etch said.

  Chassfornians were massive creatures. Built like giant mastiffs, but bipedal and at least ten feet tall. Usually with a handler since their default personality was pure rage. Once used as shock troops in the War, they were pretty much turned into pariahs when the fighting ended between the Galactic Fleet and Skrang Alliance since none of the other races wanted to deal with them anymore due to their intense need to kill anything they came in contact with, even supposed allies.