The Last Spartan 2: DJ's Mission

by A. E. McCullough

  The cabbie threw his hands into the air and turned completely around. “A freakin’ Marine! Bless my soul. A freakin’ Marine needs a ride.” The ebony skinned cabbie turned to his red taxi and began to talk to it. “Lucille…did you hear that? A damn Marine needs a ride.”

  DJ half expected the taxi to talk back in this day and age of artificial intelligence but if ‘Lucille’ could talk, only the cabbie heard her responses.

  “I don’t know where he’s going yet. He’s just got here. Now, hush!”

  When the cabbie pulled off his toboggan and exposed his bald head, DJ noticed that he was more than bald. He was hairless. No whiskers. No eyebrows. No five o’clock shadow. No hair at all. Additionally, his dark eyes showed a slight yellowing on the edges, evidence of jaundice. DJ immediately coupled those two symptoms together with the smoking of marijuana and he realized that this veteran was fighting liver cancer.

  The cabbie moved to the back door and opened it wide with one hand while polishing Lucille with the other. “Tony’s the name and shuttlin’ the game.”

  “Rote Faulken.”

  Tony cocked his head to the side and had that ‘deer in the headlights’ look of confusion.

  “Just call me Red Falcon.” DJ saw the lights come back on in Tony’s eyes. “I need transportation around Titan.”

  With a grin as large as the Cheshire Cat, Tony hopped in the front of his taxi. “Get in, get in.”

  Before DJ entered the cab, he turned to UR-L8 and said, “Get back to Kaitlyn and let her know I’m here. I’m not exactly sure of how or when but make sure she’s ready when the time comes.”

  “It will be this unit’s pleasure. Good luck sir.” UR-L8 whistled twice and sped back into the starport.

  DJ watched until his daughter’s ‘bot was swallowed up by the pedestrian traffic before climbing into the back of the taxi. He expected to be extremely cramped in the back seat but discovered that, even in his armor, he had plenty of room.

  The door was barely closed when ‘Lucille’ took off. Tony drove the taxi like a starfighter, swerving in and out of traffic, dodging barricades and ignoring traffic signs. Tony glanced in his rear view mirror. “What’s a Marine doing in Confederate Scout Armor?”

  DJ chuckled. “It was handy. After the war when I turned my skills to bounty hunting, it was all I could afford. Now,” he shrugged, “it’s more like my trademark.”

  Tony seemed to accept that answer and nodded to himself. “Where exactly are we going on Titan? It is rather large.”

  “Have you ever heard of a casino called Mocha Delights?”

  Tony laughed. “Calling Mocha Delights a casino is like calling the Kentucky Derby a horse race.”

  It was DJ’s turn to be confused. “But the Kentucky Derby is a horse race.”

  Tony shook his head. “You are obviously not from Kentucky or a fan of horse racing. It’s not A horse race, it’s THE horse race. Every other race is compared to the Kentucky Derby. That’s what makes it so special.”

  DJ nodded his understanding. “So you’re saying that Mocha Delights is what all other casinos should aspire to?”

  “Yep. It’s more than just a casino. It’s a restaurant, hotel, spa and strip club rolled up into one place. Women, men, drugs and/or anything else you desire can be found inside. If you want it, you can find it at Mocha Delights…for the right price.” Tony let out a deep sigh. “It’s as close to heaven as you’re gonna find in this life.”

  “I take it you’ve been there before.”

  “Not in one year and ninety-two days.” Tony thumped a bronze medallion hanging from his mirror.

  DJ had seen the like before…a sobriety medallion. It showed that Tony was a recovering addict. DJ spied the Roman numeral I in the center with the Addiction Anonymous tag on the top while the motto of ‘one day at a time’ filled the bottom. Without looking, DJ knew the serenity prayer would be printed on the back.

  “Will this be a problem for you? Taking me to Mocha Delights?”

  Tony shook his head. “Not at all, I’ve had many a fare go there. Is this trip business or pleasure?”

  “Business.”

  “Then you need to speak with Mocha.”

  “Who?”

  “The owner.”

  “Anything you can tell me about him?”

  “Not much. He’s a young entrepreneur who took over a rundown casino about six, no seven years back and through hard work and honest dealings with gamblers and vendors has turned it into the premier destination on Saturn. Not much else to tell you.” Tony glanced in his mirror again. “He’s not your target is he?”

  “Mark. Shooters have targets, hunters have marks. And no, he isn’t. I’m just hoping to garner some information from him.”

  Tony nodded as they zoomed through the atmosphere of Titan. One of the first things that DJ noticed was the complete lack of clouds in this region. He knew that the poles were almost always covered in thick clouds but not the area along the equator. The second was the number of bio-domes scattered throughout the area. Most were huge, city sized but there were numerous smaller ones connected by tubes to the larger ones until the domes nearly covered the entire land. It seemed from his viewpoint that the entire moon was covered in domes, he knew that wasn’t accurate but that was the impression he got. According to the files provided by Aeolus, Titan was slightly larger than Earth’s moon but had less gravity than his home planet. The government had been trying to terra-form the plant for decades but it hadn’t completely worked, hence the bio-domes. But there were two basic types of bio-domes, commonly referred to as Green and Blue. Green, meant a full Earth-like environment; light, heating, oxygen, everything. Blue, meant that it was safe to move about with only some sort of breathing apparatus. The atmosphere would be too nitrogen rich to breathe without one.

  As soon as Tony took Lucille through the upper airlock, DJ could tell which building was Mocha Delights. It was covered in lights, blue, purple and red neon flashed brighter than anything else in the skyline.

  Tony pointed out the brightly lit nightclub. “There she is in all her glory. Don’t let the cheesy exterior fool you. It is pure luxury inside.”

  DJ spied a line of waiting patrons which wrapped around the block outside. Many could be seen wearing their party clothes while some were in full atmospheric suits. The other thing he noticed that no matter what they wore, everyone had a weapon. Once again DJ was struck with another reminder that they were outside the Coalition’s tight control. “Have you had many troubles with raiders of late?”

  “Not in the last month. But don’t worry; there hasn’t been an attack in Xanadu in over two years.”

  “Xanadu?”

  Tony nodded to the ground. “The name of the region we’re in. Just like every other city, there are good areas and bad areas. Xanadu isn’t a favorite with the SS, so you would think that the bad elements would move in but for some reason they don’t. Not sure why but I’m sure it frustrates the hell out of Kassinger.”

  DJ knew from his files that Kassinger was the leader of the SS, a former soldier and confidant of Roger Thomas, his ex-wife’s husband and beater of women and children. One part of him wanted to rush straight on and choke the life out of the retired Admiral but he knew that Iaido was right. He couldn’t charge straight in. He needed to sneak in and out. And to do so, he was going to need help from Mocha, aka Andrew Young. Iaido had included a complete dossier on the owner and suggestions on how to use it.

  When Tony pulled up out front and the doors popped open, he calmly slipped on a mask and hopped out to help as if this was a standard fare and held out his cred-reader which showed his fare…two-hundred and fifty credits.

  DJ grabbed a cred-stix, adjusted the amount he wished to transfer and placed it in the reader.

  Tony nearly dropped the device when the sum of five thousand credits popped up. “Whiskey-Tango-Foxtrot!”

  DJ shrugged. “Consider it a tip.”

  Tony shook his head. “I can’t accept th
at. It’s too much.”

  “Listen. It’s not charity. I can see you’re down on your luck. I’ve been there, more recent than you could imagine. If not for the generosity of an old friend I would probably be dead by now. But he stepped in and gave me a hand even when I didn’t know I needed it. Let me do the same to you.”

  Tony shook his head. “But you don’t know me.”

  DJ shrugged. “What else do I need to know about you? You’ve served your country and now you are down on your luck.” He pointed at the sobriety medallion. “But instead of giving in, you’re fighting the good fight, one day at a time.”

  Tony stammered for a second before nodding. “This means more to me than you will ever know.”

  Placing a reassuring hand on the cancer stricken veteran, DJ nodded. “I know brother, I know. We all carry demons from the war; yours are just winning the fight. Do whatever you have to but don’t let it win.”

  It was at that moment when Tony realized that the bounty hunter knew about his cancer. And by giving him the credits, the Marine was granting him a chance to return to Earth for treatment. He now had a possibility to beat the disease. The odds weren’t good but now he at least had a fighting chance. “Thanks Marine.”

  “Semper Fi, brother.”

  Tony nodded. “Aye, semper fi…do or die.”

  The two veterans shook hands and Tony climbed back into Lucille. As he pulled off and heading away, DJ heard his voice float in on the nitrogen winds of Titan. “Watch your six, Marine.”

  Chapter 6

  Kaitlyn looked at herself in the mirror for what could’ve been the one-hundredth time that day.

  The bruises under her eyes were nothing more than a memory but every time she looked at herself she still saw them in her mind’s eyes. She was mid-way through her twelfth year and considered herself pretty, not beautiful but not ugly either. She always thought that she was the perfect blend of her father’s attitude and her mother’s beauty.

  Kaitlyn glanced over her shoulder at her mother who was passed out from too much drinking…again. She had been drinking almost constantly since that first day when Roger had hit them both.

  Kaitlyn replayed that day over again in her head.

  They had been hosting a dinner party when Roger had taken a call in his office. There had been nothing unusual at that. Roger was the chief executive for Titan Avionics and pretty much ran the Saturnian System which allowed them to live like royalty on Titan City. It wasn’t as glamorous as New Atlanta, Phoenix or even London but it was still nice. There were stores, shops, theaters, clubs, parks and dozens of other things to do. With access to the unlimited credits and influence of Titan Avionics, she was never bored. There was always something to do until that fateful day when Roger snapped.

  She couldn’t describe it any other way.

  He had taken the call in another room and when he returned he was pale. Extremely pale. Her mother had asked what was wrong and placed a reassuring hand on his arm. A wave of rage seemed to wash over his face and he lashed out. Those first few strikes were etched into her mind. Right now, Kaitlyn knew that if she closed her eyes and thought about it, the attack would replay over and over in her mind. She had never considered her step-father handsome, not with his facial scars, but he did radiate power. She imagined that was what drew her mother to him. But during that first attack, the rage seemed to fill him and the aura appeared to grow stronger. Even as he struck her mother again and again, Kaitlyn could remember rushing to her side and the sting of Roger’s backhand connecting with her nose.

  Even though Kaitlyn winced at the memory of her beating, she was proud that she had fought back.

  In the few years that her real father had lived at home before going off to war, he had insisted that she learned how to defend herself. Boxing and gymnastics had been his choice and her favorite activities. Her mom had wanted ballet and dance. Their compromise was for her to do them all. Of course since her heart wasn’t really in the latter two, she didn’t excel at those endeavors. And as much as she loved boxing, once her parents divorced that sport fell by the wayside. However about that same time she had learned of an off-shoot form of gymnastics known as parkour and it had become her one true love.

  Parkour is an extremely physical sport which focuses on efficient movement over and around obstacles. It is a combination of martial art moves found in styles such as ninjustu and qing gong while blended with the tumbling and other aspects of traditional gymnastics. The main purpose of the discipline to teach participants how to move through any environment by vaulting, rolling, running, climbing, flipping, tumbling and jumping past or over obstacles. Practitioners are known as ‘traceurs’ although the feminine form would be ‘traceuse’ as in ‘he escaped without a trace.’ The name was coined back in the early nineteen-hundreds but the art truly didn’t develop into maturity as a martial art until the mid-twentieth century when the French army and the United States Marine Corps incorporated it as part of their normal training regimen.

  Kaitlyn practiced parkour daily and it was the one area in which Roger had given her his full support. He had even hired her a professional coach. It was Stephanie who had continued her self-defense training with the logic that flows naturally with parkour. She was amazing. Slim of figure with strawberry blonde hair, she seemed to have the fiery temperament redheads were known for but also had an incredible sense of humor. It was her visits and their grueling workouts that had gotten her through the last few months since the beating. One of the best things about Stephanie was that even as a coach, she didn’t ask her to do anything she couldn’t or wouldn’t do. Whether it was hours of balance beam work, the uneven bars, tumbling or just free-running, Stephanie would either lead the way or be right there beside her.

  Glancing at the chronometer, Kaitlyn realized that she was late and Stephanie was rarely late.

  Hearing the front door to their mansion open, Kaitlyn casually moved behind the couch which put a barrier between her and whoever was entering, just in case it was her step-father. They hadn’t spoken a single civil word to each other since he hit her. He’d even threatened to cancel her sessions with Stephanie. That was until Kaitlyn reminded him that the pakour coach was under contract and he would have to pay her whether or not she was giving lessons. Hearing heavy footfalls, Kaitlyn braced herself for another argument with her step-father. However, her stomach was in her throat when he walked into the room with UR-L8 right beside him.

  “Kaitlyn, I found your ‘bot down at the mall. Did you forget about him?”

  She did her best to hide her excitement from her voice. “No, Roger. Since I’m grounded and can’t visit the mall, I sent UR-L8 to holo-vid the latest fashions. Or are you going to take that away from me also?”

  Roger sighed deeply. “How many times do I have to apologize for hitting you? I told you it was an accident. Old habits die hard.”

  “And I’ve told you time and time again, I don’t believe you. Lashing out once in anger or surprise I might understand and forgive but what you did to mom is unforgivable.”

  Megan mumbled in her drunken stupor. “I forgive…me sorry.”

  Roger gestured toward her. “See? Even in her sleep she forgives me.”

  Kaitlyn placed her hands on her hips and set her jaw. “Well I don’t. I hate you and…”

  Whatever she would’ve said next and whether or not it led to another argument was lost as Roger’s communicator rang and the doorbell sounded. They both stared at each other for several seconds before they heard Stephanie’s voice from the foyer.

  “This conversation is over,” said Roger before he turned away to take his call.

  The muscles in Kaitlyn’s neck and back relaxed as her step-father left the room. She hadn’t even noticed how tense she had become with his entry until that very moment. However, seeing Stephanie’s smiling face was enough to ease her troubled soul. And as much as she wanted to rush back to her room to question UR-L8 on his mission, she knew that she was still being watche
d by her step-father’s flunkies and she needed to follow her normal routine. Besides, she longed for the stress relief which came from a good, hard work out.

  Moreover, it had been two months since she sent UR-L8 off on his mission; another two hours wouldn’t make a difference in the grand scheme of things. Both her father and Stephanie had tried time and time again to instill patience in her. Which as a soon to be teenager, was difficult. Nevertheless, if she wanted to keep UR-L8’s mission a secret from her step-father she would have to act normal and that meant a two-hour practice with her coach.

  * * * * *

  Stephanie could tell that she had interrupted a budding argument between her employer and her student. She didn’t know exactly what was bothering the Admiral but the distraction was good for her mission. Neither he nor his bodyguards paid her any attention except to ogle at her well defined curves and that was fine with her. She knew full and well that deception and misdirection were just two facets of the Art of War.

  The worst aspect of this mission was lying to Kaitlyn. She had a quick mind and a natural aptitude when it came to Parkour. Stephanie had originally taken the job only as part of her cover. This would allow her nearly unlimited access to the Thomas’ mansion. She had intended to just humor the spoiled little rich kid by teaching her some basic flips and vaults. But after spending one week with Kaitlyn, she had become impressed with the natural talents and focus of the young girl and had started training her in earnest. Stephanie wanted to push her to her very limits in the short time they had together.

  As the two women moved into the gymnasium, Stephanie’s mind replayed the events of earlier this morning. She had seen the arrival of the two Coalition officers and a bounty hunter. The officers had to be part of some sort of investigation committee. There was no other logical assumption and it was something she had planned for but the bounty hunter, that was not in the plan. Additionally, he had been accompanied by an android that looked so similar to the one standing next to her student that it could be its twin.

  As she wrestled with the implications both arrivals presented, two questions haunted her; how would they affect her mission and did she need to contact her handler to see if he wanted her to advance the timetable?