Learning the Hard Way 3

by H. P. Caledon

  “CCH,” Misery added and Bramming snorted.

  “Actually, I just think I got lucky spotting you on my way home from trying to find you. I didn’t make it home to tell Lisa that I had more work to do, so she’s probably mad at me.”

  “So, your wife’s name is Lisa.” Misery tried to figure out if she thought the man stupid or careless. Or if the sense of loyalty between Mike and Bramming really was so strong that he just trusted Misery. Maybe in the expectation that Mike didn’t trust anyone who didn’t return his trust? That would be stupid, and Mike wasn’t stupid. So she ended up thinking the man was just trying to reach out to prove that she could at least have a basic trust in him being an honorable person.

  “Yes. Lisa and I met at the hospital where I was rehabilitated after the injury. We have two kids.”

  They made it to a transporter, and Bramming stopped to hand Misery his crutch. Misery took the ultimate test of trust, because it was obvious that the device on the side of the transporter was made to hold a crutch.

  “So you have considered how dangerous this declaration of trust could be.”

  Bramming stopped with his back to her. “Yes,” he said quietly. “But it’s all I have left. My trust in the teammates I suffered with is the only thing those hellhounds didn’t manage to cut out of me.” The bitterness in his tone was impossible to miss.

  Misery understood him and knew they had more in common that she’d thought. Even he and Mike had more in common than she’d thought.

  “Dad always says that trust is earned. You earned mine,” she said and went to his side.

  He looked at her, and a darkness in his eyes was replaced by a more humane and trusting one. She wondered how many years it had taken to win back the ability to trust others. Or learn to imitate it to comfort his surroundings. A practiced smile spread on his face, and he opened the door for her. She smiled, handed him his crutch, and hopped in.

  A strange silence dominated on the trip. It was as if Bramming wasn’t too sure of how great his idea to bring Misery to his home really was.

  “Would you do me a favor?” Bramming finally asked, looking at her.

  “Maybe? What do you have in mind?”

  “Don’t talk about Mike or mention the military, bounty hunters, mass murderers, and stuff like that around my wife.”

  “Sounds reasonable. I’ll do you that favor.”

  “Thanks. We’re here.” Bramming turned down a ramp to a parking basement.

  “How did you end up on Reeds?” Misery asked.

  He looked like he was contemplating his answer as he drove.

  “Just answer the questions you want Mike to know the answers to, because he’s gonna know you helped me, and he’s gonna have more questions than I can think up now.”

  Bramming laughed and nodded. “You do realize I have at least as many questions about Mike as you presume he has about me, right?”

  “Yeah, but you also know I won’t tell for the simple reason that I don’t know you.”

  “Touché. Then only ask the question’s you’re prepared to answer about Mike, too.”

  “Short round of questions,” Misery muttered.

  “Is he doing well?” Bramming asked, focusing too much on driving for it to seem casual.

  “He’s better. As you know, certain scars never really heal.”

  “We learn to smile, learn to do what people expect from us,” Bramming said, nodding.

  “He smiles genuinely, laughs and teases genuinely. Enjoys cooking—”

  “Let me guess, his grandmother’s casserole.”

  Misery snickered and nodded.

  “Then life is good to Mike T. Matthews.” Bramming laughed, and Misery liked how it chased the sourness from his features for a few seconds.

  “And you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Equal measures. Mike makes casserole, what about you?”

  “My family. My kids. If I forget why I’m okay with having survived and lived with chronic pains and being pissed on with concentrated military piss, then all I gotta do is look at them. You might find this some sappy cliché, but that’s just because you don’t have kids then.”

  “My brief education, even with the help from Mike, doesn’t allow me to know what cliché means.”

  “Stereotype? You know what that means, right?”

  “Yeah, reading news feeds with descriptions of me and my dad is stereotypical mass murderous shit.”

  “And a cliché is when something has been used to death and worn so thin that the bucket just doesn’t hold water anymore,” Bramming explained and smiled. He brought the transporter to a halt and turned to face her. “Contingency plan. I leave a key card down here, so you can take the transporter at any time and blow out of here. I’ll take care of the registration when we get up, so there’s more than one user on it. I don’t have the tools or credits for retina lenses—”

  “I’m wearing a pair and have two other sets in my pocket. Mike made them for me. One set might be useless now, but the other is still good.”

  “Backup plans are better than the perfect plan,” Bramming said, smiling, and climbed out of the transporter.

  Misery jumped out, too. “Yeah, Lewis is a cunning man.”

  “You know him?” Bramming asked and locked off before they headed toward the elevator.

  “No, not personally. I just heard him and Mike yelling at each other over a VID.”

  “Recently? Lewis knows of all this?” Bramming exclaimed, and Misery realized it wasn’t the smartest thing she’d said that morning. “Doesn’t matter, we don’t need to talk about that, but it would make things a hell of a lot easier. I’ll code a moVID with his call address if you want it. I know where I can get it without gaining unwanted attention. I only have twelve hundred credits for us to use. I know it’s not much, just please don’t tell Lisa about them. So what do we have? MoVID, key card—”

  “Me and a bath?”

  Bramming smiled at her. “Yeah, you’re probably more used to making plans for skips than I am.”

  “Mike’s a thorough teacher.”

  Bramming nodded, pushed a button, and grabbed his legs, wincing. “I didn’t think it would cause me so many problems. I had a night shift at the port not long ago, and even though I froze my ass off, I wasn’t punished like this.”

  “How many times have you physically hunted anyone since Orlani?”

  “Twelve to fifteen, I think.”

  “Cons?”

  “Collectors. I’m a spotter for a team of mercenaries Mike and I served with. They mainly hunt collectors.”

  “Do they know Mike is here?”

  “Yeah, they also know he took off.”

  “Is one of those twit faces named Gat Max?”

  “No!” Bramming said, looking disgusted. “I trust these guys, and so would Mike. And Gat Max is... actually, twit face is pretty all around covering what he is.”

  “So your team is here for... Karlson?”

  “Yes. Rumor has it he’s dealing with a double-dealing badge.”

  “Cecil Hallett. And he’s not double dealing anymore.”

  “You know who the double dealer is? Does Mike? Are you sure? Because my team needs to know.”

  “Like I said. He’s not double dealing anymore. Neither him nor Jonas Kleiman because both took their last breath with my blade in them yesterday.”

  “You killed Hallett yesterday?” Bramming looked impressed, and she nodded. “About fucking time someone packed up that bastard’s bags. I didn’t know he was a double dealer. I met him once when he flew with Mike.”

  “It was Hallett who got Mike sent to Delta, because he discovered Hallett’s little secret.”

  “You get the names of my team. Talk to Mike about them. They landed here yesterday afternoon on North Port and have been looking for the three of you since.”

  “And found none of us?” Misery asked as the elevator doors opened.

  “Well, yeah. That’s how I found y
ou on my way home.” Bramming stepped out on the fourth floor and limped to a door which was practically ripped open before he had time to turn the handle.

  “Where in the worlds have you been? There was a murder not far from here, and you stay out all night!”

  “Lisa, meet... ” Bramming stepped aside and revealed Misery who now thought about what kind of first impression she’d make with blood all over.

  “Rosita.” Misery smiled awkwardly and held out her hand.

  “I promised her a shower and some food before I’d take her home. She was in an accident.”

  “In an accident?” Lisa exclaimed, then gasped as she took in the sight of Misery. “You’re full of blood!”

  “The two others were hurt. I’m all right, I just really want to go home,” Misery said, trying to add a bit of vulnerability to her voice. She didn’t think she succeeded very well, but Lisa’s maternal instincts apparently kicked in, and she hauled Misery inside. Bramming smiled and limped toward the den, where a boy and a girl ages somewhere between seven and eleven were playing.

  “Now, first thing we need to do, Rosita, is to get you some clean clothes you can fit, and then I’ll get you a towel. I’ll make you a nice breakfast in the meantime. How’s that?”

  “Sounds lovely,” Misery said, surprised by how genuinely concerned Lisa sounded. She remembered a movie she’d once watched where a girl was offered help by someone and added, “Thank you.”

  “Oh, don’t mention it, Rosita, it’s the least we can do!”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Sitting in the common room, Keelan looked around on the sterile interior of the ship. As expected, he still didn’t feel at home, and he needed Misery’s presence to make the place tolerable. He tried to bury his concerns by reading or training, but the more things he tried to hide it behind the more he was reminded of all the things he shared with Misery.

  Danny suddenly stood and bellowed a rant of curses at something before sinking back into the soft couch and rubbing his face.

  “Danny?” Keelan asked.

  Danny looked at him with a heartbroken expression, and Keelan hurried to his side, fearing the news.

  “Nothing. I have absolutely nothing.”

  Keelan exhaled heavily and sat next to him.

  “There are only a few places where it’s almost impossible to track people, and it’s places like Verion, Motáll, and... they simply didn’t spend enough on monitoring the population for us to have much to work with.” Danny hid his face in his hands.

  Something popped up on the screen, making Danny look up. He sat forward quickly and worked while a species came onto a second screen.

  “Hack that portal, I want visuals!” Danny said. Half a minute later, Misery smiled at them. She made the all okay sign they had agreed upon, grimaced, and made two other signs.

  “LA?” Keelan mumbled.

  Danny stood and howled in triumph.

  Mike’s steps sounded like thunder on the stairs as he came down from the cockpit. “What?”

  “Picture of Misery at a portal.” Danny made the signs she had made.

  “Nifty... LA? Who the hell is she assisted by?”

  “Chiromancers, I guess,” Danny said, shrugging.

  “L means lawmen, so either bounty hunters or mercs,” Mike clarified.

  Danny shrugged. “She doesn’t seem to be in trouble, does she?”

  “Nope,” Keelan said, and felt the first genuine smile in a day spread.

  * * * *

  Misery gave the mirror one last glance and felt clean and fresh. She was so grateful for Bramming stalking her now. The pants and shirt Lisa had found for her fit, and she thought she looked feminine and older. She sighed contentedly and left the bathroom.

  “You look fresh. Was it a good shower?” Lisa asked, smiling.

  Misery nodded and looked down herself.

  “Not the latest fashion, I know.”

  “It’s great! I like it,” Misery assured her.

  “I made us some breakfast. Better have you fed before the long ride.”

  “Thank you.” Misery took a seat, and Bramming smiled at her secretively as he handed her a plate with eggs. The children came in and sat while they fought about something Misery didn’t get. Bramming didn’t say anything and looked like he enjoyed the noise they made.

  The thought about how Keelan had to feel struck, and she thought about how to send him a message. If she stuck her card in a portal, Danny or another Chiromancer was bound to notice.

  “Rosita, are you okay?”

  Misery looked up. “Sorry, I was just lost in thought.”

  “I don’t blame you with what you’ve been through. You must be worried about your friends. Are they at the hospital still? Have you heard from them?”

  “No, not yet. I was thinking about when I could get in contact with them,” Misery said and finished her last mouthful.

  “Honey, we better get going if we want to avoid the traffic,” Bramming said.

  “Yes, of course. Would you like something for the trip?” Lisa looked at Misery.

  “No, thank you, I’m full.”

  Bramming got up, kissed his wife, and reminded the kids to find the last three pieces for the tasarik game before dinner. They left and went into the elevator.

  “You have a wonderful family,” Misery said.

  Bramming nodded proudly. “Now do you understand what I meant about them being able to move my focus from the constant pain?”

  “Yeah, I think I do.”

  “I’ll drive you directly to the spaceport, where—”

  “Could we stop by a portal? I need to secure a message.”

  “Through a portal?” Bramming looked at her, confused.

  “It can be done. Briefly.”

  “Sure, okay. Up to you, but it has to be brief. I’ll try and find one with only a few people around.” Bramming found his moVID. “Hey, I have the package with me. Anyone spotted the Serge?”

  “Yup, package can be delivered by skiff. South Port is free.”

  “Good, see you soon.” Bramming disconnected the call.

  “Am I the package?”

  “Yes. When you meet my team, please tell them everything you know about Cecil Hallett.”

  “That would take hours, you know. Mike’s gathered intel on that rat bastard for years. I could ask him to send it all to you.”

  “That would be fantastic! There’s a portal.” Bramming stopped the transporter as close by as possible.

  Misery looked around before hopping out. She put the card into the slot, and made the signs for OK and LA. She didn’t want to share more over the channel. She took the card again and climbed back into the transporter.

  Bramming then set a course for South Port.

  “Should I change lenses or anything?”

  “No, we’re going through at my place of work, and we don’t get scanned there.”

  “Nifty loophole.”

  “Yeah, and it’s used and abused!” Bramming laughed and turned into the port. A hundred meters further ahead, he stopped the transporter. “Stay in the transporter, and I’ll find a skiff.”

  A man appeared in her window and knocked. Misery’s heart leaped into her throat, but Bramming just waved and smiled.

  “And that’s my team. You can talk to them while you wait.”

  “Okay.” Misery took a deep breath before climbing out.

  The man who’d scared her held out his hand. “Saron, former teammate of Mike’s. These two gentlemen are Tim and Ed.”

  “Give them a taste of what you know.” Bramming wagged his brows and left her with three men looking more than a little curious.

  “Okay. Cecil Hallett and Jonas Kleiman are dead. Both worked for the buyer Karlson, and he was spotted here as recently as last night.”

  “And Selina?” Saron asked.

  “No, haven seen or heard about her.”

  “Are you sure Cecil Hallett is dead?”

  “I do things properly!”


  “You’re that Hunter’s daughter, right?” Tim asked. Misery glared at him, and he held up his hands, smiling awkwardly. “No ill intentions when stating that, dear girl, just... stating.”

  “What are you gonna do with Karlson if you catch him?” she asked.

  “You mean when we catch him.” Saron smiled and winked at her. “We’re gonna turn him in, of course.”

  “To the Tribunal?”

  The three men gasped.

  “Mike told you a lot, huh?” The friendly expression on Saron’s face disappeared.

  “No, I just read a lot of files. Cecil Hallett was brought in by Mike and Dave Ratkins and delivered to the Tribunal, and he’s out collecting again only a few months later.”

  Saron, Tim, and Ed exchanged worried glances. Bramming came over, eying them.

  “Did you know this?” Saron asked. “That Hallett had been brought in and delivered to the Tribunal but released again a few months later?”

  Bramming gaped, shaking his head. “Tell me, those Files Mike collected, they’re pretty explicit, aren’t they?”

  “We’d like to see those,” Saron said.

  “I’ll ask him when I deliver her,” Bramming said.

  “Okay. They’re in orbit and positioned around here.” Saron handed Bramming a pad.

  “Good. Let’s fly.” Bramming put a hand on her shoulder. Misery nodded and shook Saron’s outstretched hand.

  “Nice to meet you, Misery Fall. Say hi to your dad and Uncle Mike for us and tell them you three are a chronic hemorrhoid.”

  “Come on, boys, look at the upsides and view it as a top-notch training session.” She winked at Saron, who laughed and shook his head.

  Bramming put an arm around Misery’s shoulder and led her down the port. They reached a skiff—an ugly little bucket with sod down the sides.

  “This thing can breach the atmosphere?”

  “Yes, and it looks like we’re going to have to.” Bramming opened it. Misery sat as close to the pilot seat as possible. Bramming strapped in, went through the startup procedures, and took off.