by Jake Bible
“She’s never had many brain cells to spare,” Kalaka said. “I’d say all this business has fried the last remaining ones. Pretty good shot, though. Who knew?”
“Guska!” Angie called. “Can you hear me?”
“I’m leaving! I’m going to go home! Fuck Jafla!” Guska replied. She added a couple plasma shots for emphasis and the roller rocked. “Just let me leave! I didn’t mean to hurt anyone!”
“Guska, my name is Lt. Angie McDade! I was a friend of Etch Knowles. He told me about you. I think he really—”
“He was a cop!” Guska interrupted, adding a couple more plasma blasts to the conversation. “He used me! That’s all cops do! They use me! Both of them!”
“Both of them,” Kalaka mouthed.
“Etch really did like you, Guska!” Angie shouted. “He told me so! He wasn’t using you, he needed your help. But he couldn’t tell you the truth! It hurt him to lie to you, trust me!”
“I don’t trust you!” Guska shrieked. “I don’t trust any of you!”
Sirens filled the air. Kalaka swore loudly.
“Jafla PD,” he spat. “We can’t wait here and talk. The second they get here, they’ll either kill her or take her into custody.” Kalaka swallowed hard. “Maybe us too. Any ideas?”
“Yeah,” Angie said and flattened herself on the ground so she could see under the roller. “Get ready. You need to get to her before she passes out.”
“I need to what?” Kalaka cried as Angie shot three plasma blasts under the roller and across the street.
Guska screamed in agony. Kalaka scrambled to his feet and sprinted across the street, his pistol leading the way. Angie scrambled up onto her feet then ran around the roller, jumping over T as she followed Kalaka.
Kalaka was kneeling next to a bleeding and gasping Guska. She was covered in blood and trash, one of the plasma blasts having torn right through the incinerator bin. Hunks of metal alloy stuck straight up out of her abdomen.
“I’m gonna… Gonna die,” Guska gasped.
“No, no, you’re gonna be fine,” Kalaka soothed as he knelt next to her.
“Terpigshit,” Angie said and shoved him out of the way. “You are going to die, Guska. I’ve seen wounds like this and the medics won’t make it in time. You have maybe a minute.”
“Oh, Eight Million Gods…” she whispered.
Angie gave her a hard slap. “Stay with me, Guska! I need you to tell us which cops used you. I need you to tell me their names. Can you do that? Can you do something right for once? This might be your last time to be the hero, Guska. Be the hero.”
“Be the hero…” she muttered. “Be the hero…”
“Yes! Be the hero!” Angie continued. “Tell us the names of the cops that forced you into this!”
“Forced me… Yes…”
“Guska, please!”
“I can tell you… S’lunn…”
“We know about S’lunn. He’s dead. Like Etch. Mess’a Tikk killed him.”
“Oh… Mess’a killed Etch too.”
“That’s right. But who ordered her to kill S’lunn?”
“S’lunn ordered her to kill Etch.”
“We know, we know!”
Angie shook Guska hard and the dying woman cried out, her eyes shooting wide open and her hands clutching at the shards of metal sticking up from her body.
“Fuck, McDade,” Kalaka said.
“Leave it,” Angie snapped and gave Guska one more shake. “Someone ordered Mess’a to kill S’lunn. Who was it? Who else do you not trust? Who was the other cop that used you? Who was in charge of S’lunn?”
“Jorg,” Guska said. “He was in charge…”
“Yes, Captain Jorg is in charge of the Jafla Squad,” Angie said. “But who ordered S’lunn to condition Mess’a to kill Etch? Who ordered Mess’a to kill S’lunn?”
Guska’s eyes focused on Angie’s. Blood oozed from her mouth and nostrils. Then the eyes became unfocused and Guska’s body went slack.
“No!” Angie yelled and began shaking Guska over and over.
“McDade! Stop!” Kalaka yelled as he grabbed Angie’s hands and wrenched them away from the Lipian’s corpse. “She’s gone and we need to go too! Hear that? Sirens! They’ll be here in seconds! We want to be free to figure this out on our own? Then we have to go!”
Angie let Kalaka pull her to her feet and lead her away from the dead Lipian and the chaos that was the street around Gants’ Club.
33.
They were several blocks away, heading the opposite direction of the Jafla PD sirens, before Angie pulled up and forced Kalaka to stop walking.
“Can’t really stop,” Kalaka said. “Not a good idea.”
“Where are we going? This is your base. Get us off the street.”
“Okay. Sure,” Kalaka said and glanced around. “There. We can get a drink. Don’t argue this time.”
“No argument,” Angie said.
They crossed the street and ducked inside a pretentious-looking pub. It was too early for dinner and too late for lunch, so the place only had a couple of beings seated at the faux hide booths that lined both walls of the pub. A bar ran down the center of the pub and a bored-looking bartender glanced at them as they came in.
“Grab a seat anywhere,” he said. “Hungry? The kitchen doesn’t open up for dinner for another hour, but we have snacks.”
“Whiskey. Bottle. There,” Kalaka said as he and Angie moved to the closest booth and sat down opposite each other.
“We were so close,” Angie said. “She almost told us.”
The bartender arrived with two glasses and a bottle of whiskey. He presented the bottle, label out, for Kalaka to read.
“I don’t give a fuck what it is,” Kalaka snapped. “Pop the top and give us a couple pours.”
“Sir, there is no need to be rude,” the bartender said.
Kalaka flashed his badge. The bartender’s eyes went wide at the sight of the holo. He set the bottle down and left them alone.
“Better hope he didn’t read your name,” Angie said.
“Nah. It was a fake one I use for just these occasions,” Kalaka said. “GVD John Smithee.”
“You have to be kidding me,” Angie said. “That is the worst name.”
“Which everyone ignores because it is so plain,” Kalaka said and poured then two very full drinks. “Cheers.”
He drank his and Angie followed.
“What now?” Angie asked. “This is your base, Kalaka. What plays do we have?”
“Well, considering we have FIS agents on our asses, possibly Gants and his heavily armed thugs, a pissed-off Urvein bouncer that will come looking for me when he’s healed up, and an unknown killer out there, I’d prefer this wasn’t my base, to be honest, so stop saying that,” Kalaka said, filling their glasses again.
“But it is,” Angie said.
“I know, I know,” Kalaka said. “And I’m at a loss. I might be able to get us a ride off planet, but so what? We run the rest of our lives for a reason neither of us are quite sure exists? We’re in the dark here. We’d be better off turning ourselves in to the FIS agents and working it all out with them.” He rubbed his scalp over and over. “I can’t believe I said that. Is this what I’ve become? You’ve made me soft, McDade. All this doing good and shit.”
“What about Jorg?” Angie asked. “How much does he despise you?”
“You assume he despises me,” Kalaka said then nodded when Angie raised both of her eyebrows. “Yeah, he despises me. A lot. He isn’t going to be any help. He’ll turn us into the FIS the second we reach out to him. Mainly because those are the regulations, but he will be smiling while he does it.”
Kalaka scrunched up his face.
“What?” Angie asked.
“Guska,” Kalaka said. “She said she didn’t trust them both.”
“Yeah. I heard that. We got S’lunn’s name, but we didn’t get the second name.”
“What if we did?” Kalaka said. “She did give us tw
o names.”
“No, she gave us S’lunn’s and Jorg’s. She was saying that S’lunn worked for Jorg, which we know.”
“But how did she know that S’lunn worked for Jorg? How did Guska know that Captain Jorg was in charge of Jafla Squad and was S’lunn’s boss?”
“I don’t know,” Angie said and downed her glass of whiskey. “But she did.”
“I don’t think she did,” Kalaka said. “I don’t think she knew Jorg was in charge of Jafla Squad. I think she was giving us the second name. S’lunn was working for Jorg. Jorg’s our real mole. Think about it.”
Angie started to argue then shook her head.
“You’re saying that Captain Jorg is responsible for not only Etch’s death, but two GVDs working under him? Jorg is owned by the Willz Syndicate?”
“Yes,” Kalaka stated. “It all makes sense. He has access to everything. He’s an Eight Million Gods damn GV Squad Captain.”
“Exactly,” Angie said. “I’ve seen a lot of corruption, but never a Squad Captain.”
“You haven’t worked Jafla before,” Kalaka said. “It makes sense, McDade. Trust me on this.”
“We need confirmation,” Angie said.
“I’ll get it,” Kalaka replied and tapped his comm. “Poq? I need you to scan all surveillance holos and vids surrounding Gants’ Club over the past two years. Tell me if you see Captain Jorg coming and going. Can you do that?”
Angie’s comm came alive and Poq replied to them both, “Two years? That will take some time.”
She pointed at her ear and frowned. Kalaka shrugged and mouthed, “I don’t know.”
“How’d you know to patch me in?” Angie asked.
“I am watching the two of you converse,” Poq said. “I have been keeping tabs on you. You made quite a mess earlier.”
“You can see us in here? Have we been exposed to the Jafla PD?” Angie asked.
“Not yet, no,” Poq replied. “I will continue to monitor your location and tell you when you must leave.”
“Thanks. And that’s not creepy at all,” Kalaka said. “How long will it take for you to analyze the scans?”
“Give me a few minutes, please,” Poq said. “Enjoy your whiskey. Next time you come into that pub, though, you will want to ask for clean glasses. The bartender grabbed ones from the dirty tray. I believe it was an accident, but it is still rather unsanitary.”
Angie pushed her glass away, Kalaka shrugged and sipped from his.
“Three minutes,” Poq said and the comm went silent.
At exactly three minutes, the comm came alive again and Poq said, “Captain Jorg has visited the Club multiple times over the last two years, but only in the last few months has it been regular.”
“Only the last few months?” Kalaka asked. “Before that, it was only occasionally?”
“Correct,” Poq confirmed.
“Same time as when Guska started working there,” Angie said.
“Yes, the dead Lipian prostitute,” Poq said. “The timing does match. I must say that once you mentioned Captain Jorg’s name, I was able to cross tabulate data and I found that he has a hidden bank account that has been filling with credits for the last couple of years. There was a very large payment made right after GVD Tikk was killed in the line of duty. More deposits were made around other significant events. One was made an hour after GVD Etch Knowles landed on Jafla. Two more payments were made yesterday.”
“That’s amazing news, Poq. Great job,” Kalaka said. Angie was frowning. “What? This is great stuff!”
“Poq? How did you find the bank account if it was hidden?” Angie asked. “You would have had to go outside the GV mainframe for that information.”
“I am attempting to show you that I would make an excellent detective, Lt. McDade,” Poq replied. “Which is what we spoke about before. You helping me to become a Galactic Vice Detective.”
Kalaka’s jaw dropped nearly to his chin. Angie waved him off.
“Okay, you’re right. That was great work,” Angie said. “You took your own initiative to get us information we need and can use. Will you please put everything you have found on Captain Jorg together in a report that—?”
“I already have,” Poq said as Angie and Kalaka’s wrists beeped. “I have sent you detailed reports on Captain Jorg, the late GVD Tipo S’lunn, the Lipian prostitute, and the various connections between them, as well as their involvement with Mess’a Tikk and their connection to the Willz Syndicate.”
“I could kiss you, Poq,” Kalaka said.
“That would be highly inappropriate,” Poq said.
“Poq? You haven’t shared this with anyone else, have you?” Angie asked.
“Not yet,” Poq said.
“Good. That’s good,” Angie said. “Now, can you do me one more favor? I need to know–.”
“Captain Jorg is currently in his office,” Poq said. “He is ignoring comms from the FIS and from GV Division headquarters. From the data, I can collect on his physical state, he is highly agitated and appears to be bordering on a panic attack.”
“He’s dangerous,” Kalaka said.
“Yeah,” Angie said. “We spook him and he could either bolt or blow his brains out. We need him alive.”
“No shit,” Kalaka said. “Poq? How is the Squad office looking? Is anyone concerned about Jorg?”
“They are leaving him be for now,” Poq answered.
“Makes sense,” Kalaka said. “The GVDs know to stay clear if he’s in a mood.”
“We’ve got to get in and see him,” Angie said. “Get him to admit to what he’s done. Only way we can dig ourselves out of this hole we’re in.”
“My hole is a little deeper,” Kalaka said. “You’re not the one that owes favors to Gants’ outfit.”
“I’ll get those wiped clean,” Angie said.
“Only way to do that is for me to leave Jafla,” Kalaka said. “And even then, favors owed to Gants, and specifically Schigg, have some reach to them. They’ll cash in even if I’m across the galaxy.”
“Don’t worry about that,” Angie said and Kalaka started to argue. “I said not to worry!”
“Fine. I won’t worry,” Kalaka said.
“I can get you inside Squad headquarters,” Poq said. “If that is your plan, to confront Captain Jorg in his office.”
“How can you get us inside without half that building coming down on our heads?” Angie asked.
“The building’s structure is sound, Lt. McDade.”
“No, she means how can you get us in without every person there reporting us,” Kalaka explained.
“That is easy,” Poq said. “The rear entrance.”
“The backdoor?” Kalaka asked. “That’s as monitored as the front door.”
“But not by people,” Poq said. “This would be simpler if you both had ocular implants.”
“We’re GV employees, Poq. We can’t afford ocular implants,” Angie said.
“Understood,” Poq said. “If you can make it to the rear loading dock unseen, then I can get you inside. I cannot assist your journey to the municipal building, I am afraid. Will it be feasible for you to make it across Jafla Base without detection?”
“That we can do,” Kalaka said and grinned. “Let me make a call.”
“Yes, you do that,” Poq said. “I will resume contact with you when you arrive at the loading dock and instruct you from there.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Kalaka said and killed the comm. “Let me make this comm and then we’ll be on our way.”
“Do I want to know?” Angie asked.
Kalaka grinned. Angie didn’t want to know.
34.
The delivery roller pulled up next to the loading dock and a very irritated-looking N’ummi got out of the driver’s side, made his way to the rear hatch, opened it, and pulled out a large warming case on a hover cart. The warming case was conveniently just large enough for two beings to fit inside, if they didn’t mind being nearly merged into one being.
“You two still alive?” N’ummi asked under his breath as he steered the hover cart towards the ramp at the side of the loading dock. “I have the case set to the lowest setting, but it’s still gotta be hot as all the Hells in there.”
“Shut up and act like a delivery driver,” Kalaka said over the comm. “They don’t talk to their cases.”
“Only trying to help,” N’ummi muttered.
“Take the cart up the ramp and to the second door,” Poq ordered over the comm. “Do not dial for entrance. I will take care of that.”
“Whatever you say,” N’ummi replied.
He did as he was told and waited by the second door. After a couple of minutes, the door buzzed and N’ummi grabbed the handle, pulling it wide enough that the cart would fit. He steered it into the corridor beyond then blinked as his eyes adjusted to the change in light.
“Now what?” he asked.
“Please wait,” Poq said. “When I tell you, please move your cart to the fourth lift from the right. Do you see the bank of lifts?”
“Yeah, I see them. Hard to miss. They look like lifts.”
“No smart ass crap,” Kalaka snapped.
“Whatever,” N’ummi said.
“Go now, please,” Poq said.
N’ummi did as instructed and moved the hover cart to the fourth lift from the right. He waited. And waited. Then the lift dinged and the doors slid wide.
“Am I going in? I only thought I was getting you inside,” N’ummi said, suddenly sounding nervous instead of impetuous. “Hello?”
“Please move the cart into the lift,” Poq said. “It will be easier this way.”
N’ummi grumbled as he shoved the cart into the lift then turned and waited for the doors to close. Once closed, a red light flashed and instead of moving up, the lift stayed put.
“Now,” Poq said. “Exit the warming case.”
“Eight Million Gods,” Angie snarled as the top lid was shoved open and she scrambled out into the lift, her shirt drenched in sweat, her hair matted down flat, a feral look in her eyes. “Never doing that again.”
“At least you got to be on top,” Kalaka said as he scrambled out after her. “And you don’t have a coat of fur. I’ll stink like this case for a week no matter how many steams or sonics I take.”