* * * * *
Even as Roger Thomas, retired Admiral and chief executive of Titan Avionics, took the call from his friend and the head of the Saturn Sheriffs, he looked at the hard body of his step-daughter’s tutor with longing. The parkour coach had nearly perfect curves with skin as white as snow and ruby red lips. There was just something so enticing about the way she moved, so graceful and effortless that it was nearly animalistic. He always found it hard to concentrate whenever she was in sight.
“Admiral, did you hear me?”
Roger turned away from the departing ladies and tried to recall what his friend had said but failed miserably. “Actually no I didn’t, I was a bit distracted. What was that you were saying?”
Jeffery Kassinger took a deep breath to calm himself before continuing. “The Coalition investigating officers have arrived. From early reports and the files our contacts in the Coalition have transmitted, the lead investigator is one Commander Alexander Cline. Nothing spectacular about his career with one exception, he was a captain for almost a year but was recently demoted. He appears to be the bookworm type, think accountant with a silver oak leaf. His assistant is a blonde bimbo named Evans. She appears to be an airhead who obviously only got her rank by her skills in the bedroom.”
Roger punched the corresponding data on his computer. “I’m looking at their Fleet service records now. They shouldn’t be a problem. Just keep them busy and flood them with data. Whenever they ask for something, give it to them immediately but double or triple the amount of information. Keep the truth buried under a pile of paperwork and everything will be fine.”
Kassinger nodded. “Okay, next problem. That reporter strichmädchen and her sidekick are here also.”
“Strichmädchen? I’m not familiar with that term. What the hell is that?”
Kassinger paused and scratched his chin. “What would be a good translation? Hmmmm…prostitute? Hooker?”
Roger shook his head. “That isn’t polite, even from you, to say that about her. Unless you have some proof? Some revealing images perhaps?”
Kassinger shook his head. “No, nothing like that.”
Carnal thoughts intruded on his attention and Roger couldn’t resist the urge to punch up the cameras from the gymnasium. Images of Stephanie and Kaitlyn stretching filled the monitor screens. Once again crude thoughts about the parkour coach and his step-daughter intruded on his mind. “Is that all?”
“Two last wrinkles. The Councilor and a bounty hunter also arrived this morning.”
“The Councilor was expected. She’s scheduled to visit our penitentiary on Aegaeon. Make sure our count is correct.” Roger made the air quotes sign when he said the word - count.
Kassinger nodded. “Don’t worry, it’s covered and I have the Thimblerig ready. I just thought you should know that she had arrived.”
Roger knew that a thimblerig was another name for the classic shell game or three-card Monte con-game. It was a plan they had developed just in case of this type of inspection. They both knew that ninety percent of the incarcerated felons supposedly stored in the Aegaeon Penitentiary were actually working as slave labor on their remote facility on the dwarf planet Haumea. The only way to keep their cheap and disposable work force a secret was to hide the fact. Since the felons were shipped to Aegaeon in suspended animation and kept that way during their entire sentence, it had been easy to divert the majority of the criminals to a secondary location. Once on Haumea, they were unthawed and forced to work. All the while, Titan Avionics was able to bill the Coalition government millions of credits for housing the criminals. It was a brilliant and lucrative plan.
“Now, what’s this about a bounty hunter?”
Kassinger glanced down at his notes. “He goes by the name of the Red Falcon. According to his documents, his real name is Rote Faulken and he’s supposedly on the trail of the thief called El Gato. I’ve heard rumors about this thief. Supposedly he can break into anything and escape without leaving a trace.”
That brought Roger’s attention back to the task at hand and he clicked off the monitors to limit his distractions. “And this El Gato is thought to be in my system?”
Kassinger nodded. “Aye aye Admiral that’s the rumor.”
Roger raised his one eyebrow in thought. The scars on the left side of his face from a close encounter with a thermal grenade during the war prevented any hair from growing on that side and limited certain facial movements. “Is there any intel on what this El Gato is after?”
“No, sir.” Kassinger paused before adding, “However, I do have some good news.”
“Spill it.”
“Mörder has returned.”
Roger clapped his hands with glee. “Outstanding. I’m assuming he completed his mission.”
“Yes, sir. Your problems with the JDL seemed to have resolved themselves.”
“That is good news.”
After a brief pause Kassinger asked, “And the bounty hunter? How do you want me to handle him?”
“Here’s a novel idea, arrest him.”
“I can’t. He hasn’t broken any local laws and he has all the proper documentation in accordance with galactic law which allows him complete access to the system.”
“Dammit.” Roger leaned over and typed in a few commands to run a query through the core-net. Milliseconds later his answer popped up. “According to my records, the Red Falcon is supposedly on the other side of the galaxy.”
“It’s my guess that those are just planted rumors to throw off his prey. From everything I can find he’s a legit hunter with a decent capture rate. Hell, even his ship’s registry checks out. It’s probably nothing more than a coincidence that he’s here at the same time as the other three groups but I’ll keep an eye on him, just in case.”
“You do that.” Roger turned his head slightly so the scars on his face were highlighted. “Remember what assuming cost us in the war.”
Sheriff Kassinger unconsciously rubbed his artificial knee as he felt the ghost pain once again. He’d lost the leg seventeen years ago, yet he still felt the pain. The doctors all said that it was psychosomatic but that didn’t make the pain any less real to the sheriff. “Don’t worry Admiral, I will never forget.” He cleared his throat. “I could have Mörder take care of him.”
Roger shook his head. “No, his skills are too valuable to waste on a common bounty hunter. Set him the task of tracking down this El Gato character. I don’t want that thief anywhere in my system.”
“Verstanden Oberst.”
Roger disconnected the call and leaned back in his chair to contemplate the implications of the bounty hunter and the thief arriving in his system at the same time of the other three investigations. There had to be a connection. Now he had to decide if he should inform the Committee.
* * * * *
Somewhere on the far side of the galaxy, a shadowy figure watched retired Admiral Thomas’ entire conversation with delight.
One of the being’s four arms reached out and touched the controls on the computer console and the image of Roger Thomas shifted to one of the hundreds of monitors which covered the entire wall. A fresh image of a hulking man in red armor entering some nightclub filled the huge monitor in front of the mysterious being.
Even as two of the blue skinned arms began manipulating the console controls and the image zoomed in to focus on Rote Faulken as he entered the casino, his other two hands rubbed together in an almost human-like gesture of pleasure.
Chapter 7
Andrew Young looked down on the dance floor of his casino and smiled.
Only seven years ago, he’d arrived on Titan with a thousand credits and a new name. He’d quickly discovered that having a new identity, no friends, a need to survive and no past was rather liberating. Finding employment in a rundown casino, he’d quickly learned the trade. Within a month had bought out the lion’s share of the casino and set out to make Mocha Delights, the club he’d renamed after his new identity, to be the premier nightclub o
f the Saturn System. With hard work and dedication, it worked. Mocha, as he was now called, was nearly as rich as the executives of Titan Avionics.
‘Yes, life is good,’ Mocha thought…right up to the moment he spied the red armored figured walking through the doors to his nightclub. It was as if the proverbial other shoe dropped and he knew that his life was about to change again. Only time would tell if it would be for the good or bad. Moving over to his desk, Mocha tapped the com-link button to notify his cooler – the title given to the head bouncer.
Mere seconds later, Pridgen answered. “What’cha need, boss?”
“The red armored warrior that just walked in…”
“I see him.”
“…send Lashandra and Tinya over to distract him. See if they can get him into the back room quietly. I doubt it but try. If not, have your men ready to grab him but be aware that if he is who I think he is, you will be in for one hell of a fight.”
“Got’cha, boss.”
Mocha moved over to his private bar and pulled out a dust covered bottle of Scotch. Pouring himself two fingers worth, he stepped up to his huge picture window to watch the upcoming festivities.
* * * * *
When DJ walked into the casino, his combat senses kicked into overdrive.
It wasn’t just the multitude of people or the blaring techno-music or the flashing neon lights or the numerous cameras posted all over the place. It was a combination of all these and more which screamed at him to be wary.
DJ found that Mocha Delights was indeed much more than a casino.
The bouncers only briefly tried to stop him from entering and eyed his openly displayed weapons. Copying a trick he’d seen Iaido perform numerous times, he flipped out his bounty hunter credentials and moved passed without a word. Only one bouncer tried to stop him but his buddies pulled him back as he continued forward without acknowledgement.
He only halfway noted that the dance floor to his left was completely packed. So much so, that if someone passed out they wouldn’t immediately fall. Personally he couldn’t stand the techno-funk music which was blasting but the younger generation seemed to enjoy it, including his daughter. The one thing that he was happy to see was that the proprietor had built in a dampening field right at the edge of the dance floor. He could barely hear the rhythmic thumping of the heavy bass or the screeching of the guitars but he could clearly see the scantily clad ladies and outlandishly dressed men gyrate to the music since they were less than ten feet away.
Turning his head to the right was the entrance to the actual casino. It seems that Mocha had also put in a dampening field generator at this junction also. From his vantage point, he could see craps and poker tables, slot machines and several other gambling devices which he didn’t recognize. Even though part of his cover was that he’d won the Aetós in a crap game, he wasn’t much of a gambler. Sure, he’d played poker with his buddies back in the Corps but that was more to pass the time and for camaraderie than to actually gamble. He always figured that he worked too damn hard for his credits to lose them in a game of chance.
Dead ahead of him was the section he most looked forward to, the bar. Even though it was crowded, the mass of bodies parted at his approach. Sliding up to the bar, he unclipped the lower bar of his helmet and placed it in a special compartment on his belt for just such an occasion. This exposed his chin and mouth which would allow him to eat and drink without revealing himself. DJ found himself grinning as he realized how clever Iaido had been with the helmet and guessed that the Master Chief must’ve had a hand in redesigning it.
A slender blonde with big blue eyes and small but perfectly round breasts came over to him from behind the bar. “Hey big fellow, what do you need?”
“Draught Guinness”
“Draft or bottle?”
DJ snickered. “Draft of course.”
Judging from the look the she gave him that was the proper response. He guessed that many yuppies tried to impress her with ordering exotic drinks but not knowing how to properly order them. No beer connoisseur would purposely drink a Draught Guinness from a bottle when draft was available. And if she was any good as a barkeep it would take almost two full minutes for her to pour the ancient stout.
He couldn’t help but start a countdown timer with a flick of his eye when she started pouring his beer. And exactly one-hundred and eighteen seconds later, she finished pouring his pint. Nearly perfect. A perfect pour would take one-hundred and nineteen point five-three seconds.
He caught himself scoffing at that knowledge. He always found it amazing how he can remember trivial facts like that but would forget names and dates. He remembered Kaitlyn’s birthday but that was about it when it came to dates. He couldn’t tell you the date he was married or divorce or even the day he was incarcerated. Of course there was one other date he did remember, the day he was released from prison.
Taking a long drink off his Guinness, he looked around the bar. There had to be over a hundred people in this room and there were only two areas where it wasn’t body to body; the small space around himself and the ten foot radius around the lone occupant at the end of the bar.
DJ studied the loner. He had his head down on the bar with his hands folded underneath him in front of an empty glass. He had a shaved head and wore a black synth-leather outfit that had seen better days. His broad shoulders and massive arms were covered with tribal tattoos. No weapons were visible but then, if this was who he thought it was, he didn’t need a weapon.
Ordering a second pint, DJ made his way down the bar and sat down on the empty stool.
“Hello, Jagger Jax.”
The notorious thief looked up. “Whatever it is, I didn’t do it. I’m innocent.”
DJ nodded and placed the drink in front of him. “I know. I just thought you might need another drink.”
Jax sat up. He took one look at his empty mug and then at the foaming pint being offered. With a nod, he grabbed the mug and took a long drink from the Irish stout. “Damn. That’s good.” Turning his body slightly toward DJ, he gave him the once over. “You’re the Red Falcon aren’t you?”
DJ nodded.
“You’ve put on weight since the last time we met. When was that three, four years ago?”
DJ realized that he was talking about the imposter Falcon but needed to play it off. “Something like that. But don’t worry; you’re not my mark…this time. The last report I had on you lifted all warrants but still had you listed as a person of interests on several other cases.”
Jax nodded. “Long story.”
“I’ll buy that. We all have our secrets but indulge me this, what are you doing on Titan?”
“Working.” The slight cocking of his helmet informed Jax that the Falcon didn’t understand and unless the hunter had changed a lot that meant he might detain him. “Nothing illegal. As a matter of fact, that past is behind me now, forever.”
DJ took another drink. “I’ve heard that one before.”
“It’s the truth but not by my choice. Ever since I got that Presidential pardon, no one in the underworld will even deal with me. Hell, I couldn’t even score some weed from the local dealer on Haven. The word was out. I was excommunicated.” Taking another drink, Jax continued to ramble. “It was the same on New Atlanta, London and Phoenix. When I tried to return to Ceres, I was thrown on the first shuttle outbound at gun point. That shuttle was heading here.” With a shrug, he returned to his drink. “So, now I work on the docks unloading cargo and I drink. Is that a crime?”
Whatever DJ was going to say next was forgotten when two ebony skinned dancers in very revealing feathered outfits slid up to them. The first one was dressed in yellow feathers and had curves in all the right places, long legs and golden-brown eyes. She caressed his armor as she said, “Hi. I’m Lashandra.”
Her partner was dressed in blue feathers was a bit shorter but with a rounder bottom. “And I’m Tinya.”
“Welcome to Mocha…”
“…Delights. We are
here to see to your every need…”
“And desire. How may we serve you?”
Judging from the way the two dancers finished each other’s sentences, DJ guess that they had done this greeting before.
Lashandra’s hands roamed up and down DJ’s armored torso. Even though he couldn’t feel it, it was still arousing. “We have a special room reserved just for VIPs.”
“It’s been a boring night.” The one in blue feathers broke away and placed her arms around Jax’s shoulders while pressing her bounteous bosom in his back. “Your friend is also welcome.” Tinya punctuated her sentence with a bite on the nape of Jagger Jax’s neck.
“Why don’t you two brawny men enliven it for us?”
Both DJ and Jax were immediately tempted. After all, the girls were gorgeous and their bodies promised a night of pleasure that would be hard to forget. Even as they were leading the warriors away from the bar to the Promised Land, one part of DJ’s mind was trying to focus on his mission. He’d come into the casino for a purpose. Hooking up with these lovely sirens was not it.
Somewhere deep in his subconscious he heard his daughter’s voice, ‘I know you won’t let me down, you never have before.’ DJ stopped so suddenly that Lashandra traveled two steps before coming to a halt. Turning back to look at him, she knew that her hold over him was broken and just nodded her head slightly before fading into the crowd. The passive threat alarms built into the HUD of the Red Falcon armor began to go off as bouncers seemed to appear out of nowhere. A quick scan counted twelve Jovians each armed with a stun baton and they had him completely surrounded.
Jovians were the descendants from the first settlers of the moons around Jupiter. The increase in gravity on the settlers combined with the radiation leaks in the early bio-domes caused the genetic mutation of dwarfism in their children. Even though living conditions on Jupiter and her moons had improved over the last century, the rates of dwarfism were still one in four. Of course, with their compact stature and extra muscle development due to the increased gravity of the gas giant lead to increased strength which made them a great choice for bouncers.
The Last Spartan 2: DJ's Mission Page 7