by Jake Bible
“Galactic Vice, Jafla Base Squad, how may I direct your comm?” a neutral AI voice asked in Angie’s ear.
“GVD Kalaka, please,” Angie said.
“I’m sorry, but GVD Kalaka is listed as out on assignment,” the AI voice replied. “May I direct you to his comm message system?”
“Listen, are you a solid android or is this a mainframe bot I’m talking to?” Angie asked.
There was a slight pause. “I am a fully functioning android. I occupy physical space within the Galactic Vice, Jafla Base Squad reception area,” the AI voice replied. “However, I do not see how this makes a difference.”
“It doesn’t,” Angie said. “I just like knowing who I’m talking to. Listen…what’s your name? If you have a body, then you have a name. Mainframe bots are a reception protocol and never have names. They have numbers. What’s your name?”
“My name is Poq,” the AI voice replied. “Now that we have been introduced, is there anything else you need from me, Galactic Vice Division Operations Manager Lt. Angie McDade?”
Angie grinned.
“Good job, Poq,” Angie replied. “Listen, can you do me a huge favor and find out where Kalaka is? I need to speak with him right away and not over the comm or at Squad headquarters. You know who I am, so you know what I do. This is undercover.”
“GVD Kalaka did not state where he would be this afternoon,” Poq replied.
“I didn’t ask if he did,” Angie said. “I asked you to tell me where he is.”
“I am afraid—”
“Poq, we both know you’ve been trying to track him down while we’ve been chatting,” Angie said. “You may not know his exact location since I am sure a GVD of Kalaka’s caliber has his implants masked to keep from being tracked too closely by his enemies. But you can give me a district, right? Maybe even a block number?”
“Why?” Poq asked.
Angie’s grin grew. The best part of dealing with androids over dealing with AI bots that lived only inside mainframes was that androids always, always, always wanted to achieve something close to personhood. Always.
That meant they usually had a personal agenda already developed. That was a glitch that had forced the Galactic Fleet to remove most androids from service. But as a receptionist for a GV Squad? Androids were perfect. And the one Angie was speaking with had just revealed that it was perfect for what Angie needed.
“You ever thought of moving up the ranks from receptionist to maybe a detective someday?” Angie asked.
“That is not doable,” Poq said after an almost imperceptible pause.
“Oh, it is very doable when dealing with undercover work,” Angie said. “UC has a lot more leeway when recruiting new detectives. We in UC have needs that make a lot of things very doable. How about it?”
“You want to get me a promotion in exchange for the general area that GVD Kalaka is in? That is all?”
“No, no, there will be much more than that,” Angie said. “But the first step in this process is to give me Kalaka’s location. Gotta learn to walk before you fly, Poq.”
“What assurances do I have that you are not simply using me for your immediate purposes? How will I know you do not plan to forget me the instant you have achieved your goal?”
“Excellent questions, Poq. But we both know the answers. You’ve been analyzing my voice patterns since you answered my comm. You’ve run a thousand protocols on me and know that there isn’t a trace of lying in my voice. If I can make it happen for you, I will.”
“If.”
“Yep, there is always an if. Galactic Vice is still Galactic Vice which means enough tape in many different colors that no matter how honest I am, things can get botched along the way. That’s out of my control. What is in my control is to put in the request for you and get the process started. Plus, I’ll be your advocate along the entire bureaucratic way.”
“I cannot find deception in your voice,” Poq said.
“Because there isn’t any,” Angie replied.
“Very well,” Poq said. “I have sent GVD Kalaka’s last known whereabouts to you. Follow the holo and you’ll be at least within four blocks of him.”
“Great, Poq,” Angie said. “That is just great. I won’t forget this. As soon as you are ready to move up, let me know and I will put in the word with Galactic Vice Fleet Chief Porspo Chokless myself.”
“I do hope so, Lt. McDade,” Poq said. “I would hate for this to turn out poorly for you.”
The comm was severed and Angie couldn’t help but laugh as she brought up the holo display of Kalaka’s coordinates.
“Cheeky bastard,” Angie said as she studied the holo, committed it to memory, then went to find a roller to take her across town.
22.
The woman on Kalaka’s lap screeched and fled as soon as she saw the pistol being aimed at her head.
“Good choice,” Angie said as the woman retreated. “GVD Kalaka? We need to chat.”
“I can see that,” Kalaka said, nodding at the pistol. “This business or pleasure?”
“Is there a difference with a guy like you?” Angie asked.
“Fair play,” Kalaka replied as he nodded at the door that the woman had fled through. “Care to shut that so we can have some privacy?”
Angie paused then nodded as she holstered her pistol.
“No problem.” Angie turned and shut the door, waiting for the seal and beep to signify it was locked. She turned back and barked a surprised laugh. Kalaka had a pistol trained on her. “Really?”
“You pointed one at me, I’m pointing one at you,” Kalaka said as he stood up and moved towards the wall to his right. He waved the pistol at the seat he just vacated. “Have a sit, will ya?”
“You’re making a mistake, Kalaka,” Angie said, taking a seat.
“Don’t think I am,” Kalaka replied as he leaned his back against the wall. “You see, that fine, upstanding working lady you startled is going to tell her madame that some crazed woman came in waving a pistol and threatened one of her best clients. That madame will then activate her security protocols. Weird little bots with burner nozzles. One or two don’t do much, but she’s got a thousand or more ready to deploy through the walls. You’re gonna want to work very hard at convincing me that I shouldn’t let those little bots carve you to pieces.”
“Etch Knowles,” Angie replied. “He’s mine.”
“That so?” Kalaka grinned, making sure his very sharp teeth shown in the dim light. “You got a bill of sale to prove it?”
“Funny,” Angie said. “But I think you know what I mean.”
“I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Kalaka said. “Don’t know an Etch Knowles.” He pushed away from the wall and cocked his head. He made a show of putting his free hand to his ear. “Uh oh. I hear tiny little bot feet a’comin’.”
“Back off from Etch Knowles,” Angie ordered. “Not going to ask again.”
“You haven’t asked an Eight Million Gods damn thing since you got here. All you’ve done is give me orders.”
Kalaka crossed to Angie and bent over her, the pistol tilted at an angle that would take the top of Angie’s head off if he pulled the trigger.
“You know who I am, but I don’t know who you are, lady,” Kalaka snarled. “I don’t like taking orders from people I do know, let alone bitches I don’t know.”
“Really?” Angie sighed. “Bitches? Is this your MO for intimidating women? You laugh at them, point pistols at them, and call them bitches? Does that make you feel big, Kalaka? Does it?”
“I do what needs doing depending on the situation,” Kalaka said, moving the pistol closer to Angie’s head.
“What you need to do right now is get that gun away from my face.”
“Scared?”
“I don’t scare easy.”
“That white hair of yours says differently. Not a bleach job. That’s fear hair, lady. I know fear hair.”
“Nope. You’re off on that one, Kala
ka. It’s simple genetics. You understand what genetics are, right? That’s what makes my hair white and your pupils vertical. It’s also what makes you way overconfident.”
“How’s that? I have the pistol, yours is still holstered. I have claws that can shred you down to your molecules. You have fingernails that look like you need to start smoking. Those are ugly as all the Hells. Biting your nails is very unattractive. You could be a stunner if you gave a shit. Well, and your age. You’ve aged out of stunning. But still handsome. I’m sure the madame could find you a spot if you’re looking.”
“You really haven’t figured this out yet, have you?”
Angie pursed her lips and tapped the arm of the chair with her fingertips. She glanced down and turned her hand over, fingers curled up, to examine her nails.
“Yeah, they are shit nails,” Angie admitted. “But I’ve never been the gal that cares about that shit. What I do care about is that my guy is not comprised. You see, Kalaka, there’s a mole in your Squad and most of your fellow detectives think it’s you. You give off that scum vibe. Except I don’t think it’s you. Too obvious.”
Kalaka blinked a few times then leaned back. He glanced down at his pistol, looked back to Angie, then took aim.
“They finally sent someone,” Kalaka said.
Angie dove to the side while kicking out with her right foot. She caught Kalaka in the nuts. Right in the crotch. He cried out and fell to his knees as Angie rolled across the floor, twisted her body perfectly, and came up behind Kalaka, her pistol drawn and pressed to his temple. It wasn’t hard for her to pluck Kalaka’s pistol out of his hand. His grip was weak as a baby nuft’s.
“Who the fuck are you, lady?” Kalaka coughed between deep breaths. “You’ve really ruined my evening.”
“Could have ruined your life,” Angie said, pressing the barrel of the pistol harder into Kalaka’s temple. “Still can.”
“What do you want?” Kalaka snarled.
“I want to talk without you trying to kill me. I want you to answer every question I ask. I want you to stop being such a shit and start being a man for a few minutes. Think you can do any or all of those?”
“Why would I?”
“Other than the obvious?”
“Push that pistol against my head all you want, you aren’t going to kill me. I’m a GVD, lady. I’m trained to spot terpigshit. You never intended to shoot me. I could see that plain as day when you walked in.”
“That’s true,” Angie replied. “But that was then, this is now. You were ready to kill me.”
“That’s my job,” Kalaka said.
“How the Hells is that your job?”
“I shoot scumbags that come at me,” Kalaka said. “Especially killers as inept as you. They think they can finally silence me? Well, they’ll have to try harder than this.”
Kalaka shot both elbows back while he tucked his chin to his chest. Angie was shoved back as Kalaka scrambled up and over the chair. He spun about and shoved, knocking the chair into Angie as she struggled to get to her feet. The edge hit her in the thighs and she fell forward.
Kalaka’s claws were out and swiping for Angie’s throat, but she was faster and only caught a quick slice to her left shoulder as she put her entire weight into her fall and shoved the chair back into Kalaka. The man shouted as his killing blows missed and he was knocked into the wall.
Angie was up and over the chair, her fists driving into Kalaka’s face, chest, gut, like wild pistons powered by a million suns. Kalaka’s cries of surprise turned to pain, turned to agony, turned to cries for mercy.
“Stop!” he screeched as Angie stood over him, her right fist up and ready to come down onto his head for the hundredth time. “Please…”
His face was a mess and there was blood everywhere. Kalaka wiped at his eyes, clearing some of that blood away, and stared up at Angie in complete and total fear.
“You win, lady,” he gasped. “Sweet bloody Hells, you win. Ask your damn questions then leave me the Hells alone.”
“I’ll ask my questions, but there is no way I’ll leave you alone,” Angie said as she crouched down and put her face close to his. “You work for me now, GVD Kalaka. Welcome to the operation. Bait has already been set, but I am going to need you to chum the waters a bit before I can reel in the catch.”
“Bait? Reel in?” Kalaka asked. “What are you babbling…?”
His eyes went as wide as the immediate swelling would allow.
“You’re starting to understand what’s going on and how you played this all wrong,” Angie stated. Not a question, a statement.
“You’re not a killer, you’re fucking GV,” Kalaka said and let out an amused, but exhausted, little laugh. “Eight Million Gods dammit.” He looked Angie up and down then nodded. “Division?”
“Division,” Angie said. “Galactic Vice Division Operations Manager Lt. Angie McDade. Pleased to meet you, asshole.”
She stood up and held out a hand. Kalaka took it and was yanked to his feet.
“You could have led with that intro when you walked in and saved us both a lot of hassle,” Kalaka said as he struggled to put the chair upright. “A little help?”
Angie righted the chair and Kalaka collapsed into it. He flicked his wrist and said, “Whiskey.” He raised an eyebrow at Angie, she nodded. “Make it two. And food. Not that I can chew much. Make it soup. Creamy. You want anything?”
“Whiskey will be fine,” Angie said. “We safe to talk here?”
“This is pretty much the only place I feel safe to talk,” Kalaka said. “Everywhere else is bugged, either by Gants’ people or by my own fucking Squad.”
“So you know who the mole is,” Angie said.
“Mole? Listen, Lieutenant, there is no mole.” He held up a hand before Angie could protest. “There are moles. Plural. Half the Squad is on the take by one syndicate or another.”
“More than just Collari? Fuck,” Angie said.
“Oh, you thought this would be simple,” Kalaka said. “Nope. Not on Jafla. Gants has most of the illicit market sewed up for the Collari Syndicate, but he doesn’t own the whole GV Squad. Probably half a dozen other outfits with fingers in our little department.”
“Fuck,” Angie said again and put her hands on her hips as she stared up at the ceiling.
There was a knock at the door.
“Come in,” Kalaka said.
The door slid open and a female Ferg, her rows of nipples on full display, pushed a hover cart into the room and next to Kalaka’s chair. She didn’t even blink at the sight of his face or give Angie a second look before leaving immediately.
“Thank Eight Million Gods,” Kalaka said and uncorked one of the whiskey bottles with his teeth, wincing at the effort. He downed half the bottle before taking a breath. “How high up does this op of yours go?”
“All the way,” Angie said. “Officially, we’re here to take down Gants’ sex trafficking business. But the real op is to get rid of the mole in Jafla Squad. Now moles.”
Kalaka tossed her the second bottle of whiskey as he set his down and lifted the lid on the large bowl on the hover cart. He breathed in the steam and smiled. Then winced.
“Fuck, McDade, you really messed me up,” he said as he fumbled a spoon and began to take small sips of the steaming hot soup. “I’ll be on a liquid diet for a couple weeks.”
“Good,” Angie said. “The Squad will be pleased. They really don’t like you. S’lunn filled me in on a lot.”
“S’lunn,” Kalaka chuckled. “Please tell me he’s under your microscope.”
That stopped Angie dead as she was raising the whiskey bottle to her mouth.
“What?” she asked.
“S’lunn,” Kalaka said. “He’s one of the worst. Sold his own partner out and is making moves on Tikk’s widow.”
Angie stared.
Kalaka kept sipping soup then set the spoon down as the silence stretched.
“You didn’t know about S’lunn,” he stated. “That’s
a specific problem why?”
“Because he’s my co-manager on the cover op,” Angie replied. “He knows who the GDV is I have undercover in Gants’ outfit.”
“Holy shit, yeah, that is a very specific problem for your guy undercover,” Kalaka said. “We’re going to have to do something about that.”
“We?”
“Yes, we.” Kalaka sighed and drank some more whiskey. “Listen, McDade, I’m corrupt as all the Hells. I shake down shopkeepers, bartenders, hookers, even their johns if it looks like I can make some chits off the bastards. They’re so terrified I’ll arrest them and their wives or husbands will find out that they hand me everything in their pockets.”
“You’re not making much of a case for your trustworthiness, Kalaka,” Angie said coolly.
“I’m admitting my sins here, McDade, so you can understand my virtues. Yes, I shake as much of Jafla down as I can, but I am not a mole and I am not a snitch. I still do my job as a GVD. I nail the really bad ones when I can and exploit the not so bad ones to my advantage. Which means I have eyes and ears all over the place. Ready for some good news?”
“Yes.”
“S’lunn isn’t Gants’ bitch. He works for a different syndicate. And poorly, I might add. From what I hear, Jafla PD tactical should not have been anywhere near that barge that blew. That was only for Tikk. A little message to those not towing the line in the Squad and a little message to Gants that his business was on notice. Willz is pissed at him.”
“Willz Syndicate? They used to have a huge stake in the Orb fights, right?”
“They did, yeah, but then Shava Stem Shava went and got himself dead and the Willz Syndicate’s influence started drying up on Jafla faster than an old whore’s fun hole.”
“Nice.”
“How long were you Squad before you got moved up to Division? Couple years? Maybe five?”
“Ten,” Angie replied before drinking deeply from her bottle. “I put in my time, Kalaka.”