by Tripp Ellis
“I'll call you," Cole said.
“Don't bother," the waitress said as she slinked out of the compartment. It was easy to see she wasn't thrilled about doing the walk of shame.
Cole huffed and scowled at Felicia. “Thanks. That's just great. Now I can’t drink at Anchors Away anymore.
“Shouldn’t piss where you eat,” she said in condescending singsong.
“I need your help."
“I figured. You only call when you want something."
“The civilian prisoners taken from Crylos 9… I need to know where they are."
“Your guess is as good as mine."
Cole’s piercing eyes stared her down. "Don't give me that nonsense. I know you people have ways. Track the ion wash, or quantum distortion, of their transport ships. That should narrow the playing field. Hell, I'd be surprised if your people hadn't already done that."
"I can neither confirm, nor deny, that statement." Felicia had an equally piercing stare. "And if the UIA did have that information, it would be classified. And I certainly wouldn't share it with you."
“I have top-secret clearance, in case you've forgotten."
“What's your interest anyway?” Felicia’s suspicious eyes surveyed Cole.
“I've got close friends that were on Crylos 9.”
Felicia scoffed. "You don't have any close friends. Only acquaintances and one night stands."
“I have lots of friends, thank you very much.”
She gave him a doubtful roll of the eyes.
“Look. I'm not asking for me. I'm asking for Zack Salvator. He had family on Crylos. His girlfriend was aboard one of those prison ships.”
Felicia’s eyes narrowed as she pondered this information.
“Come on, the kid’s in love. He deserves a shot at getting his girl back."
Felicia said nothing.
Cole could see that Zack’s situation was tugging at her.
“I mean, if the UPDF is planning a search and rescue mission, let me know. I'll tell the boy, and I'm sure he'll put his faith in the Federation. Is there a mission planned?”
“Not at the present time.” Felicia was silent again for a moment, then finally decided to spill the beans. "The administration is far more concerned with defending the fleet and liberating Zeplovia. Even if we knew where the prisoners were, a rescue mission would be on the back burner.”
Cole frowned. He didn't like the idea of leaving anyone behind, much less civilian prisoners. “Glad to see the Federation abandoning its own."
“They're not abandoning anyone. It's strictly a strategic decision. You know as well as I do that if the Federation goes in, it's not going to be to rescue just a few people. It would take a full scale—”
“I know what it would take."
Felicia sighed. "Okay. Supposing the UIA can track down the location of the prisoners, with some degree of certainty, and I share this information with you… what then? This kid’s going to jaunt across the galaxy and get himself killed in the process? I don't think that's going to sit well with my boss, or his boss, or anybody up the food chain."
“If you were held captive by slimy aliens halfway across the galaxy, wouldn't you want someone to come looking for you?"
Felicia’s face tensed. She knew better than to help Cole, but she just couldn't stop herself. She regretted the words before they left her mouth. “This is the last favor I do for you. You got that?"
“I got it, Chief." He gave her a mock salute.
She rolled her eyes and headed for the hatch. “I'll let you know if I can find anything."
“What's the hurry? Why don't you stick around? Let me repay your kindness, Special Agent Phelps,” he said in a smooth, suggestive manner.
She looked at Cole, standing in his skivvies, then glanced to the empty bed behind him, and laughed. "I'm far above your pay grade, Gunny.”
“You weren’t always."
She smiled and flipped him off as she stepped back into the corridor. The hatch shut behind her with a definitive clank.
14
Mercs
Shrill screams filtered into the hallway. The rumble of some kind of power tool added to the cringe worthy sound. There was no doubt—someone was being tortured.
Rex and his crew exchanged a wary glance as they waited in the hallway. The warehouse was one of several owned by the mob boss. The place was dingy and damp and smelled like a cellar. Even if the man's screams did filter out into the street, no one would be foolish enough to report it. Getting on Tommy’s bad side was not something one aspired to do.
After 15 minutes, the sound of the power tool ceased, and the screams faded into groans and sobs.
One of Tommy's goons opened the door and poked his head into the hallway. "Tommy will see you now."
Rex and his men filed into the room, pushing the hover pallet that supported the cargo container of Hervoxin. Rex had transferred it back from the EVA suit. Otherwise it would've looked like they were carrying a dead body around. Which wouldn't have been all that unusual around here.
There was a man writhing on the floor in agony. His hands had been ground down to bloody stumps. There was a commercial grade meat grinder on a table. It was clear that Tommy had forced the man's hands into the grinder as there was a sizable pile of meat atop the table that had been spurted out of the spigot. Ash didn't have to wonder any longer how Tommy Meatballs got his name.
One of Tommy's thugs dragged the mutilated man out of the room. He left a trail of blood on the concrete. There was no telling what was going to happen to him next.
Rex and his crew tried not to pay it much attention. Expressing any kind of concern over the man might lead one to share the same fate.
Tommy's eyes lit up with joy at the sight of Rex and his crew. "I take it you have recovered my merchandise?"
“Yes, sir,” Rex said.
“Excellent." Tommy ambled to the container. He was a big barrel chested guy. He had dark hair, tanned skin, and wore obnoxious gold rings on his pinky fingers. He looked like he was on the far side of 50, but he was the kind of guy who could beat the snot out of most 20-year-olds. His face was pocked and scarred from childhood acne, and more than a few fights.
Rex opened the lid of the container, and Tommy reached a hand in, grabbing one of the bricks of Hervoxin. He pulled a switchblade from his pocket, pressed the button, and snapped the blade open. It flung out of its sheath with a click. He delicately cut into the brick and spooned out a sample of the blue powder on the tip of his blade. He licked his finger to make it sticky, then dipped it in the powder, acquiring just enough residue on the tip of his finger to taste. He dabbed it on his tongue and evaluated the quality. It was like he was tasting a fine wine. He seemed satisfied.
"It's pure,” he said with a smile. Then his eyes grew dead serious and he pointed the blade menacingly at Rex. "If I find out that you’ve stepped on any of this and kept some for your own… well, I don't need to tell you what will happen to you.”
I can assure you, we haven't cut the product,” Rex said. "It's just as it was when we found it. If anybody stepped on it, it was Vargas.”
Tommy looked deep into Rex's eyes, searching for a hint of deception. Tommy knew how to spot a liar. You didn't get to be in the position that he was in without being an expert in human nature.
"I can tell you speak the truth. For your sake, I hope you continue to be truthful with me."
Rex wasn't sure he wanted to continue his relationship with Meatballs beyond this transaction. It was like playing with fire.
"Move the product into the safe," Tommy said, pointing to a walk-in compartment that resembled a bank vault.
Rex and his crew pushed the merchandise inside. The vault was packed full of weapons, cash, and various drugs. There were machine guns, rocket launchers, grenades, body armor, and an abundant supply of ammunition. Some of the ammo crates had UPDF markings on them. It was clear that Tommy had some connection that was funneling the stuff to him. These weren’t ci
vilian weapons. They were high-grade, fully automatic, military spec weapons.
When Rex and his crew emerged from the vault, Tommy handed him a duffel bag full of credits.
“Untraceable. Just like you asked. It's all there, but feel free to count it if you like."
“That won’t be necessary,” Rex said. “I believe we have a mutual trust."
“Indeed.”
"Pleasure doing business with you," Rex said. He shook Tommy's hand, then headed toward the door. They wanted to get out of there as soon as possible.
As the crew reached the door, Tommy yelled after them. "I got another job for you, if you want it?”
Rex grimaced before he turned around and put a smile on for Tommy. Mr. Meatballs wasn’t the kind of guy you said no to. "What is it?"
15
Cole
"Gunny, I need a word with you," Special Agent Fritz said.
Cole had just sat down at the table with his breakfast—bacon, eggs, two slices of toast, and a glass of orange juice. He was in the 2nd Deck mess hall with the rest of the enlisted men. "What are you doing down here, Special Agent Fritz? Slumming it?"
Fritz chuckled and took a seat. “Did you meet with agent Phelps this morning?"
"I'm not sure. It's been a busy morning," Cole said, crunching on a slice of bacon.
“What if I were to show you security footage of Agent Phelps entering your compartment? Would that jog your memory?"
"I'm sorry, I must be confused. When did speaking with Felicia become a crime?"
“That would depend on the subject of your conversation."
“I didn’t realize trying to get your ex girlfriend back in the sack was a matter of Federation security." Cole contemplated the many possible reasons Fritz might be asking about Felicia. “Are you banging her?”
Fritz looked exasperated. "No."
“I didn't think her standards were that low, but I had to ask."
Fritz was tired of beating around the bush. "Just exactly what do you think you're doing?"
"Eating breakfast."
"Cut the crap. I know you asked her for information about the Tarvaax prison camps.”
Cole put on his best poker face and tried not to show any emotion. But he was more than a little upset at the thought of the UIA listening in on private conversations. "I had a lot to drink last night. This morning was kind of hazy. I don't have a direct recollection of that."
Fritz leaned in and spoke in a stern whisper. "This is Navy One. You think I don't know everything that happens aboard this ship? The bulkheads have ears, my friend."
“Are you admitting to illegal surveillance?”
“No. Of course not. Perhaps you've forgotten, you waived your constitutional rights the minute you stepped aboard the Intrepid. My number one priority is the safety and security of the Federation government, and I am authorized to use any and all means necessary aboard this ship. There is no such thing as privacy here."
Cole finally conceded. “Those people in those prison camps are more than just names and numbers."
Fritz softened a little. "I'm aware of that. And the Federation is doing everything they can to bring them back."
"Now you're the one who needs to cut the crap."
Fritz was silent for a moment.
"Tell me you're actively pursuing a rescue operation,” Cole said.
Fritz grimaced. “A rescue mission is planned. It's just not going to happen right away. There are other more important military targets that the administration wants to pursue first.”
Cole rolled his eyes.
“Why are you getting involved? You don't have a dog in this fight."
"I don't know what you're talking about. I'm not involved."
“Then why are you asking Felicia for intel on the prison camps?”
Cole hesitated for a moment. “I’ve got a friend who had family on Crylos 9. Is that something you can understand?"
“That wouldn't happen to be Lance Corporal Salvator, would it?"
“Who?” Cole said, playing innocent.
Fritz's eyes narrowed at him. "There's a part of me that wishes you never would've saved my ass back on Alpha Epsilon 6.”
"I'm sure your ex-wife feels the same way."
Fritz wasn't born yesterday. He knew exactly what was going on. "How's it going to look if you go and get yourself killed on a non-sanctioned rescue mission?"
"It's going to look like I actually gave a shit about the citizens of the Federation."
That shut Fritz up. He stared at Cole for a long moment. "I'm going to pretend we never had this conversation. You want to run off on some fool's errand, be my guest. But don't ply my agents for anymore intel. I don't want any blowback coming my way."
“I can honestly say, I've received no intel from anyone in the UIA.”
“You know, it's not just yourself you put in jeopardy. If Felicia helps you, she's in violation of Federation law. And the penalties for that are steep.”
“Why are you getting your feathers all ruffled over this? It's harmless back-channel information. It doesn't compromise the security of the Federation in any way.”
Fritz grumbled in a low whisper. "Because I've got a leak in the agency somewhere, and I don't know who it is."
His words hung in the air like smoke.
Cole looked surprised. "You're not implying—“
“No. Felicia’s a good agent. I just don't want to see her get caught up in a larger net, if you know what I mean. Heads are going to roll, and the agency is going to come under intense scrutiny.”
The thought of the UIA being compromised was disconcerting. A mole within the agency could do damage.
“The enemy seemed to know our every move on Crylos 9 before we made it,” Cole said. “Do you think—“
Fritz nodded. "It's a distinct possibility." He paused for a moment. “We have a major problem with operational security. The president doesn't want to take any action until we plug the leaks. Now do you understand?”
Cole nodded.
"Look, I empathize with the kid. I'll see what I can do to help you. No promises. Just stay away from my agents, for everyone’s sake.“ Fritz stood up. “And just in case you haven't realized, you're no spring chicken anymore. You ought to leave this kind of thing for the young and foolish."
Cole smiled. "I still have a lot of young foolishness left in me.”
16
Zack
“Vega Lotrix. That should be interesting," Commander Garrick said. "My wife won’t let me go near that place now, but when I was single I sure did have a lot of fun there. Enjoy your R&R. You are to report back to the Intrepid on Monday at 0700 hours.”
Zack's face twisted up. “That’s less than 72 hours. I thought that you said we had two weeks?”
“Change of plans. The timetable has been bumped up. The president wants to start your press tour next week.”
Zack forced a smile. "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." He spun around and left the commander's office.
On the flight deck, he met Cole and Diesel. “Just FYI, we have considerably less time to pull off this operation than anticipated."
“What do you mean?” Diesel asked.
“I'll tell you all about it."
The three of them marched up the back loading ramp of a Raptor and took their seats in the cargo bay. There were a dozen other Marines and sailors headed toward Vega Lotrix on R&R—a rowdy bunch, ready to blow off some steam.
Zack secured his bag and strapped into a safety harness. "Gunny, you want to tell me why were heading to this godforsaken planet?"
“Because it's the only place in the Federation that we’ll be able to find exactly what we need. I’ve got us a meeting setup with some special operators.“
The hydraulics whirred as the back ramp raised. It clanked shut, and the cabin pressurized. The pilot flicked switches and pressed buttons. The glowing consoles came alive with activity. Zack could hear the massive thrusters rumble as the pilot powered the craft up.
When the preflight checks came back green, the Raptor lifted from the deck and angled toward the mouth of the bay. Zack felt the weightlessness of space as they crossed the threshold and lumbered into the abyss. A few moments later the bulkheads rippled and warbled. Time dilated, then snapped back to normal as the Raptor entered slide-space.
Zack was growing used to the transition. It still made his stomach feel unsettled, but he didn't have the overwhelming urge to spew—and that was a welcomed relief.
“You don't look as green as usual," Diesel said. "Just slightly pale."
“Making progress.”
The jump to Vega Lotrix took just under 9 hours. They'd almost loose a day in the transport to and from the planet. It was seriously cutting into their 72 hour window. There was no way they were going to make it back to the Intrepid by Monday morning.
Vega Lotrix was the kind of place where you could find anything. And everything had its price. It was at the edge of the colonies, and had an extremely relaxed attitude towards regulation and law enforcement. The planet never slept. There was always a party somewhere. Federation police rarely exerted their jurisdictional powers over Vega Lotrix, and the local authorities were easily bribed. It became a haven for the criminal underworld. The girls, and the nightlife, made it a compelling attraction for military personnel on leave.
The Raptor descended into the upper atmosphere and swooped toward the capital city of Sak Vela. It was shrouded in darkness for 18 hours a day, six months out of the year. The Eternal Night was the prime tourist season. The party almost never stopped. It was easy to get turned around in a place like that. One day could blend in to the next almost seamlessly. Before you knew it, you had spent several weeks in Sak Vela, and your bank account was drained.
Zack could see the glowing lights of the city from space. It was a kaleidoscope of colors and flickering points. As the Raptor drew closer, the sheer magnitude of the city became evident. It was an endless horizon of skyscrapers and high-rises. With a population of 75 million, it was one of the larger cities in the Federation. You could live your entire life in Sak Vela and still not know every nook and cranny.