Ghosts in the System

[WretchRoad]

She passed a gracious smile to Richardson before withdrawing her hand. “A few?” her tone shifted to congenial with Celeste, “that’s impressive.” It was menial small talk, but she had to say something to cap that short conversation and pretend like she hadn’t noted the details shared between Becker and the other man. Could be nothing, could be something. No matter what she’d have to bring it up in the debrief.

In the space of their chatter she mentally prepared a list of names and accompanying faces from what she’d seen that evening, but he interrupted her note-taking with the most surprising thing he’d said to her, well, ever.

He was being friendly.

She canted her head in the same conspiratorial tilt, responding. “But a dick-measuring contest would make for a more exciting gala.”

And to the table: “Tell me something about Bob, something he enjoys, that way I’ll have an excuse to start a conversation when he arrives.”

 

[The_gladiator]

He nudged his shoulder against hers, the tilt matching hers, the words kept between the suit and the spidersilk.


“Tell me. Do you measure them with your hand or your mouth?”


The image arrived uninvited—his cock in her hand—and he tried to banish it. The liquor really was strong if he was fantasizing this early in the night.


Celeste looked Danica over with a knowing glance when the question about Bob hit the table.


“I’m guessing you mean tell you something Bob is into besides young women with large breasts?”


Richardson’s mouth twitched. “I was going to say you’ve plenty for him to look at. He may even talk about them too, if you’re not careful.”


“Behave, you two,” Becker said, a slight laugh in it.


He had to admit they weren’t wrong.

 

[WretchRoad]

Her blush and her silence stood in place of the epithets she could have used for them and their ilk.

By then she had Becker's number, and knew he was going to press her either for fun or to see how she responded, or both. But their company didn't offer the kind of polite conversation she expected.

They knew what she was.

Of course they did, because they probably knew Becker and saw that she didn't fit the picture quite as well as she hoped. Could be that no one really fit in his picture.

"Mouth," she said aloud, confusing their companions —but hopefully it reddened Becker's cheeks a little more. In practice, she didn't care to measure, she simply picked the most vulgar answer.

"Why, is there nothing more interesting at this table than me?" She gave a pointed look at Celeste. It was a two-pronged strike, aimed at her lack of assets and her husband, for noticing.

Perhaps, she thought, if they paid for her, they could earn the right to say what they wanted. Until then only Becker had that priviledge.

 

[The_gladiator]

The images in Becker’s head grew teeth with her word. Mouth.


His hand found her leg under the cloth—light, a silent warning—and stayed only long enough to be understood.


Richardson’s fork paused. Celeste’s smile faltered, then painted itself back on.


“Plenty interesting besides friendly jabs among friends,” Becker said. A gentle warning to the table. All of them. “Let’s not have a war over breast size before the salad arrives. Forget what Bob likes. Anyone know why he’s late?”


Richardson leaned forward.


“It could be that he was finally arrested for that shipment of A14 that went missing from Alzoc 7 last month.”


Becker winced inwardly. Bob had provided the tip that let him pick that shipment up. Richardson had just given him the time to drop the next one—moments ago, dressed as a grandmother’s birthday.


“Seriously?” Becker offered. “I heard they were sniffing around for it. Pointing fingers at some of the big shippers this time. Sunrise. A few others pointing at G and B.”


His blood went cold.


Richardson was giving him a real warning, disguised as gossip about IGA raids.


Becker shifted in his seat. “Surely they have nothing to point at us.”


“I doubt it. But if they keep you on edge with rumors and accusations, they think they’ll catch you in an error. Expose you.”

 

[WretchRoad]

The heat of his hand did more to still her tongue than his warning. It felt like a promise, one that made her heart beat loud enough to drown out the background noise until finally – information.

A tale carefully told with nothing solid to implicate Bob or anyone else, and like most of her stories lately, had no satisfying conclusion.

She reached for her glass and drank, slowly — an excuse for a quiet moment as she logged everything they said so she could sing about it later.

'A14,' she thought, that didn't sound like weapons. Then again it wasn't like war criminals would advertise their war crimes to each other over dinner.

Needling conspiracies were exactly the game plan, though, part of a greater effort to expose the gun runners should the operatives fail to come back with results. It wasn't meant for her, but that was her clue that IGA were turning up the heat after three months of nothing actionable. The fire was under her feet, too.

She set her empty glass aside, rejoining the conversation.

"Who would fall for such a silly ploy like empty accusations? Honestly, that's just childish." She gave Becker a flash of a side glance.

 

[The_gladiator]

“More than you’d think,” Becker said. “A lot of idiots get scared into the open. Not to mention some men will confess to anything to make the pain and humiliation stop.”


He shrugged.


He was spared saying more by Bob’s arrival, busty wife in tow, salads landing in the same breath.


“We thought you might be in a cell,” Richardson offered.


“Hmph.” Bob’s entire answer, as he held the chair for his wife.


“Becker, you pirate. Good to see you.” He shook Becker’s hand.


“Piracy is illegal,” Becker said.


“So are some of your deals. Positively criminal, the prices you charge the government for your shipping.”


“It’s just business, Bob. I promise it’s all aboveboard.”


“Fine. But I don’t have to like it.”


“No accountant likes it.” Becker stuck his fork into the salad. “Bob, this is the Lady Danica. From Ran.”


Bob looked her over with the interest of a man who had been accurately described. “Actually dating again, Becker?”


“Something like that.”


“Pleasure to meet you, Danica. You’re a lot better to look at than Brendan here.” Bob swept a hand toward his wife. “My wife, Lani.”


Becker leaned closer to Danica, conspiratorial.


“The white dressing is good. Be careful of the orange one unless you want to clear out your sinuses.”

 

[WretchRoad]

Her pointed jab failed to land. Maybe Becker was distracted by something more pressing in what Richardson said. That meant he knew IGA was in his peripheral and the strike could come from anywhere.

In the interest of keeping her tongue from slipping, she neglected to ask for a refill on the wine, but dug into the salad as soon as it arrived. Juggling dual identities had left little time to eat between titles.

She was still chewing when she responded to Bob, directing a curt nod to both him and Lani. As resentful as she was of how the inside info was delivered on Bob’s predilections, she could at least be grateful for the advice. He received no more warmth than necessary, though her eyes lingered on Lani for more than a second. Some curves were hard not to trace.

When Becker leaned back in, she expected another low blow. Still chewing a dry mouthful, she signaled a waiter for the white dressing to be drizzled onto her plate.

“Hm… thick and creamy,” she spoke in a low tone, meant only for him. But as quick as she said it, she turned back to the conversation at hand. “Bob, do you live on Alzoc 7, or do you just work there?”

 

[The_gladiator]

“No one voluntarily lives there,” Becker quipped.


Bob’s laugh boomed. “Right you are. I go anywhere the numbers demand it. I stay only where Lani approves.”


“I like my beaches plentiful,” Lani said.


“And her admirers plenty,” Becker muttered, for Danica’s ears only.


Bob was still going. “I spent some time on Alzoc. Boring place. Their numbers were disagreeable at best.”


Becker dug into his salad and let someone else take the conversation.


He did not want Danica digging into Alzoc 7. If she made the connection to the Deltrex A14, he did not care to explain it. Not here. Not when he still did not know who she was working for.


“What do you do for a living?” Lani asked Danica.

 

[WretchRoad]

They played the topic off with such ease it barely roused her suspicions, but topics dismissed that cooly were the ones that sent her needle jumping.

Becker would have enticed an honest smile from her if she wasn’t starting to think his confidential quips were a distraction, to keep her from marinating on any one topic for too long.

Then came the small talk, questions for which answers were already written. “Consulting,” Danica replied in a measured tone, like she’d been doing it too long “I could go into details, but I wouldn’t want to bore you.” She took another sip of water. “And what keeps you busy when you’re not watching the waves?”

 

[The_gladiator]

Lani set down her fork and took a drink of her wine.


“I am a Reacher.”


Even Becker paused. Lani was never that honest with a stranger unless she meant to frighten someone—or startle a question she found invasive. What was her angle.


It was a challenge for Richardson and Bob to hide their dealings from his wife. A member of the IGA secret police.


“Yep,” Becker said. “So when Bob says his wife is the thought police, she really is.”


The table laughed. He took another bite.


Then he leaned forward, giving Danica a cover that would hold if Lani decided to keep asking.


“Danica was going to consult on a couple of projects for me. Ship needs a few upgrades. I’m losing money on some runs. Need to see if it’s faulty equipment or just bad navigation.”


Even as he said it, he wondered if she was actually qualified to do the work.

 

[WretchRoad]

Danica paused over her fork.

The only way it made sense was if someone was trying to keep their enemies close.

Now, she didn’t know if Bob and Richardson were a part of Becker’s operations, but if she had to hazard a guess —she’d say they were. That left it open for her to determine who was watching whom, or if they were working together.

Lani’s blatant admission was another matter. It was possible she knew exactly who Danica Caite really was and this was a signal, an informal admonishment on her work timeline. Or, a forewarning that she was getting close to something?

Becker, knowingly or not, gave her the perfect cover and stopped her from trying to calculate all possible angles.

“That’s how we met,” she added, fluid now. “That’s right, I specialize in radio telemetry on older systems like his. Ones that calibrate lidar and Doppler shift spectrum analyses, you know, for calculating trajectories through busy ports or asteroid fields,” she shrugged, “Like I said, boring.”

‘Fuck,’ she thought immediately after, that was a risk she took for a mere chance at selling her cover story. It was a piece of the puzzle that was her, freely given, because she let her emotions get ahead of her thoughts.

 

[The_gladiator]

He filed it. Useful. The words had rolled out like a clever memorization—or the truth. He filed that too, and the possibility of letting her see some of his systems.


“Interesting,” Lani offered.


“Might be, if that’s why G and B are bleeding money.”


“Certainly must be that,” Lani said, dry, “and not the bad deals you negotiate.”


“If I get bad deals it’s Bob and Richardson’s fault. They’re the ones who funnel me contracts.”


“Right. Just be careful, Becker. One day you’re going to do something over a line I can’t pretend not to see.”


“I promise you all I do is aboveboard.”


Lani met his eyes. He refused to flinch.


“Make sure she looks at your software. Why your manifests and ship weights don’t agree.”


True warning, or fishing to see if he cracked.


“Come on, Lani. It’s never a war crime until you get caught.”


“That’s what I mean. You’re going to get caught.”


“As often as I get boarded, you don’t think they would have found something by now?”


“Just because you’ve not gotten caught doesn’t mean you’re innocent.”


Bob rubbed her arm. “C’mon, darling. You promised no work during dinner.”


Becker turned back to his salad.


“Women, am I right?” he asked, nudging Danica.

 

[WretchRoad]

The air around the table grew alarmingly thick. While Danica concentrated on weaving her way into the workings of G + B, taking notes on the scenery, Lani geared up for a head on collision.

She made a mental note to find Lani in private, to learn what she wasn’t saying, what she pretended to ignore. If that woman had guessed what was really on those shipments and wasn’t doing a thing about it, maybe she and her weren’t on the same side after all.

“I don’t do logistics, but I could troubleshoot a few things.”

She wasn’t sure why, but she took it a step further.

“The C series of modular scales from Praxis have always had issues achieving congruence.” Whether that was true didn’t matter as long as Lani didn’t know any better, the lie rolled off her tongue like any fact.

The look she gave Becker was far from amused. “She’s just doing her job, which sounds a lot more interesting than mine.” She turned her gaze back to Lani, ignoring the tension, “ What do you do with the Reach?”

 

[The_gladiator]

Lani seemed to consider her answer.


“I’m one of the visible field reps. The ones people get to see.”


Code, as far as Becker was concerned: she was shit at undercover. When you had breasts that practically needed grav-lifters, you didn’t hide.


“You investigate petty crime,” he filled in. “Insurance fraud. Manifest tampering.”


“Some of those are far from petty.”


“True enough, if it gets expensive enough. Like that shipment of A14 Bob lost.”


Bob spluttered. “I couldn’t track down the funding exchanges. I didn’t lose it.”


“According to you it just disappeared off paper.”


“And my wife won’t let me hear the end of it. Who the fuck needs that much antibiotic is beyond me.”


“Someone up to no good.” Lani looked at Becker.


“What’s that for. I didn’t take it.” Even tone. Mild indignance. He could get through this.


“But did Gunther.”


“That windbag,” Becker snapped. “He’s too busy fucking whore after whore to steal your antibiotic. You’ve known me for years. Want to just get all the way off my back about that?”


“Why should I?”


“Because it bores me.”


“Fine. But only because Bob said no work at dinner.”

 

[WretchRoad]

A white collar beat cop, Danica thought. And for a moment there, she was concerned Lani had come with a warning. As it turned out she was off the clock.

“Unless you’re about to arrest someone right here, what’s with the interrogation anyway?” She shoved her empty plate to the side, mock-irritation plain on her features. With Lani reaching into unpaid overtime, Danica had nothing to do but gain points with Becker, even if the conversation was supposed to be done. “People stealing antibiotics sounds personal. That’s not the kind of sunk cost you risk your shipping company over.”

Because Becker was shipping weapons. She’d been shown the manifests, the records of missing cargo from ports where G + B just happened to be on the tarmac. She had everything she needed to be convinced his company was running arms deals with terrorists and warlords, because that’s what she needed to know to do her job.

 

[The_gladiator]

“I interrogate him because I don’t think he’s being fully honest,” Lani said. “And I do think he’s a good man. I don’t want him nailed to the wall. Especially if I have to do it.”


“Then turn it off,” Richardson said at last. “You’re good at your job. We all know that. Just let us enjoy the charity gala.”


She nodded. Not peer pressure so much as the fact she had nothing concrete, and Becker knew it.


“People run antibiotics because not everyone likes what the IGA does to pacify worlds,” Bob offered. “Or that’s what the last one caught running the stuff said. When put to the question.”


“I run whatever people will pay for,” Becker said.


“So you’d run A14?” Lani asked.


“If I thought it would piss off the IGA, you bet your ass I would. That doesn’t mean I have, or plan to. We’re just talking hypothetical. I mean I’d also fuck twin ice dancers from Vargera Alpha, the Sky Diamond. Doesn’t mean it’s ever going to happen.”


He pushed his salad plate away, following Danica’s lead.


“Anyone know what’s in the auction anyway?”

 

[WretchRoad]

The IGA distributed antibiotics to the people who needed it, she thought. With a finite supply and distribution costs, why would they send precious cargo to populations undergoing open revolutions, with terrorists snatching up the goods before they ever hit groundside? Like she said, it was personal.

People who wanted real money ran weapons and warm bodies.

But she didn’t want to get any more political than she already had, now that she knew there were dissidents among them. Bob would be featured in her next debrief, along with Lani.

“It just so happens,” she cut through the tension with a joke, rather than building upon it, “There’s two ice dancers from the Sky Diamond.”

 

[The_gladiator]

“It just so happens,” she had said, “there’s two ice dancers from the Sky Diamond.”


Richardson picked it up as the steaks arrived.


“Oh, right. I heard a rumor they were auctioning off front-row seats to their next major performance.”


Celeste’s plate landed with a steak-like mushroom instead of the meat the rest of them had.


“I anticipate those tickets will go for a lot,” Becker said, a slight smile in it. “I saw a show once from afar. Intense. The pheromones they give off.” He pretended to fan himself.


Bob spoke up. “There’s an antique firearm that’s supposedly from the Sol system. Shoots slugs, not particle beams. I think they called it a Winchester.”


“Oh wow. I hadn’t heard that one.” Becker started to cut into his steak. Potato. A somewhat sad-looking vegetable. The picture, back on its rails.

 

[WretchRoad]

As Becker fanned away imaginary fumes, she wondered what it was like to be in the seats. Watching it through a vid or holo display couldn’t possibly be the same.

The thought came unbidden: she imagined those pheromones made him hard as hell. And tried to think of something else.

To dispel her own unwanted fantasies, she concentrated on the conversation. “Yes, I heard solid ammo gives it quite a kick. Just think of firing one of those, trying to aim steady when you know the punch is coming…” as it turns out, that wasn’t much better.

Looking at her plate helped, the smell of the marinade turning her attention back to other cravings. She expertly sliced off a small morsel, remembering to pace herself.

“I heard there would be original Effe works, from her series The Ninety-Five Paths.” The controversial and highly prized etchings were each inspired by one of her many famous lovers. Since she’d never clarified who was the subject of which work, it led to wild celebrity claims and refusals. “I don’t think I’d want any art inspired by my relationships, would you?” she asked the table, a tactic disguised as casual conversation.

 

[The_gladiator]

Becker was not taken in by the Effe work. Never had been his speed. He could see the value. He would buy and sell art. It never really moved him.


“I try to stay under the radar. Immortalized in art doesn’t sound my speed.”


“Unless it’s porn,” Bob teased.


“I have never been in a pornographic film, despite who my ex-wife is. That was a low blow and you know it.”


Richardson was chortling. “Yeah, but it was funny.”


“You two are heathens. Just because you’ve seen Starla naked almost as often as I ever did doesn’t mean you can make jokes.”


“Au contraire, my friend. You are never going to win this one.”


He looked at Danica.


“You make one mistake in your life and marry an adult film star, and suddenly your supposed friends act like they’ve seen your wife naked or something.”


Even he recognized the absurdity of the words as they left his mouth.


“I could use that slug rifle right about now.”


“But would you use it on yourself or these idiots?” Lani asked.


“Tempting either way.”

 

[WretchRoad]

It was then she realized how woefully sparse her dossier on him had been, but at least her look of surprise was genuine. She, too, had seen Starla naked.

“That brings up an interesting question,” she announced, “if you find out someone you know has done porn, is it impolite to watch, or is it impolite not to support them?”

She wondered this herself as she noticed two white-clad waitstaff taking empty plates, and swore she’d seen them somewhere before. Being a savant with faces, she couldn’t imagine they were important if she couldn’t place them.

 

[The_gladiator]

Becker recognized the look the instant it landed. He was used to it. That brief glaze while someone remembered a scene or two. There had been some good ones.


“I mean, I watched her work. I was invited to some of the filming.”


“Is it true Starla fucked Slog the Giant while she was cuckolding you?” Richardson asked, twisting the knife like he enjoyed the work.


Becker shifted in his chair. “We were going through a rough patch.”


“Yeah. He treated her roughly.”


Becker put his head in his hand for a moment. The poise cracked.


“Don’t respond,” Celeste offered. “They want to rile you, Brendan. Let it go.”


The voice of reason steadied him. Some. The rest of it stayed where it always stayed: Starla Windrider, known by half the systems, active with everyone under the sun while she denied him affection. Even years later it was a sore spot. He could still imagine her around that massive cock. It had made him feel inadequate, to say the least.


“Is that why you’re celibate now?” Bob asked.


“I’m not celibate. I just… don’t jump into bed with everyone.”


“Anyone seems more accurate.” Bob again.


“I need another drink.”


Becker rose and headed for the bar, dinner barely touched.

 

[WretchRoad]

Danica, with a pointed look toward the men at the table, tossed her napkin onto her half-finished meal and followed shortly after. It was a jab too deep, even for good friends. Then again, the drinks were strong and plentiful that evening.

But even she couldn’t watch The Giant perform without feeling sympathetic for the women, even Starla. Danica felt bad for him, locking onto that feeling so she could play the good girlfriend, or the ‘something like that’ she was supposed to be, drowning out judgment on whether he deserved what he got.

As she crossed the floor a few steps behind him, she tried to get a better look at the waiters as they disappeared into the kitchen. Nothing but the back of their heads. Nothing useful but a feeling she set on the backburner, turning her attention to Becker.

“I left the table in solidarity,” she said, “they went too far, if you ask me.”

They reached the bar and she leaned in beside him. “My offer from earlier is still on the table.”

 

[The_gladiator]

“Which offer is that,” he asked, wry. “The twist of the hand. A sweet release. Or shots in some dive bar until we can’t stand.”


He waved the bartender over and ordered water. Not another drink. The bar had only ever been an excuse to get away from them.


“My only regret is the tantrum means I might not get to enjoy my dinner.” He shrugged. “Mention of her chaps my ass anyway. Best way to ruin a good appetite.”


He would not say it, but her joining him meant something. He had clocked it. Filed it. Made a good cover if she wanted an in. It was also just plain kind.


She might have no ulterior motive.


He doubted it.

 

[WretchRoad]

With a tight grin, she ordered the same. She had no excuse not to keep a level head, when he was pacing himself as well. “Sure,” she sighed. “But if that’s all you want, it’d be a waste of my talents.”

In the back of her mind she considered there was more than one reason he’d stepped out of the game since his ex, maybe other women didn’t compare to Starla Windrider. Or maybe they didn’t want to be compared to her.

“All I’m saying is we can go somewhere no one knows your name and no one cares, beyond that, well, that’s up to you.” Whether she would sleep with him out of duty or pleasure remained to be seen, and if he would know the difference.

While she sipped the water, waiting for him to mull it over, the overhead lights dimmed and a spotlight illuminated the stage to one end. A large, but proportionate man with a gregarious smile stood up at a podium there, and voices hushed.

“Hello, um, yes. Hello everyone.” He spoke with a humble inflection that made him endearing —what had to be an intentional affectation for someone who’d probably given thousands of speeches before.

“In case you don’t know me…” a polite laugh passed through the audience, “hah, yes. Well, in case you don’t, I’m Leon Pilat, and I’ve arranged this whole…thing. Welcome.” A soft applause filled the room for a moment. “I’d like you to know that every dollar spent at auction goes directly to the cause,” his tone turned more serious, “that the artifacts from Lutyen’s Grand Sahur have been donated by elders of...”

“Bullshit!” One of the waitstaff called out, causing a few to gasp.