6


As much as I enjoyed the library, there was no way I was spending the night there, so I went back to the Jellybird and microwaved a chicken fried steak and potatoes. Jelly gasped in horror at my food selection. I held up a hand signaling her I didn’t want to be bothered with nutritional data or health warnings.
“Very well, Captain. I will mute my objections to this wrongheaded course of action. There are so many better options in regard to your caloric intake requirements,” Jelly said.
“Mute means mute,” I said, then began shoveling food into my mouth, waiting for her to take one last shot at my diet under the guise of signing off.
“Of course, Captain. Entering silent mode with medical protocols in standby mode should you gag on that disgusting plate—”
“—of fried crispy goodness,” I interrupted.
I hadn’t realized how hungry a day on the streets of Layton 5 could make a person. I didn’t even have a need for my usual vices. Once I’d sufficiently packed my stomach with happiness, I looked back on the day’s failures without too much regret. I went to the bridge and activated my workstation.
“All done, Jelly. Hope you enjoyed time out,” I said, loosening my belt line to ease the pressure on my stomach.
“Immensely, Captain. What can I do for you?” Jelly asked.
“Where is X-37?”
“He advised me he was performing a systems update and would be unavailable. He also provided me access to several compressed files in case you needed them. I have not opened them at this time,” Jelly said.
“No problem,” I said. “I’d like to contact Elise. Use the farm report network and double encryption. Send a test message first, evaluate for possible intruders or surveillance, then let me know.”
“Yes, Captain,” Jelly said. “I will use extreme caution.”
I flipped through one of the paperback books that I picked up from the library just to justify my visit. The story was intriguing.
“I regret to inform the captain that I was unable to make contact with Elise,” Jelly said.
“You are unable to establish a link, or she didn’t answer?” I asked.
“The link was the best I have ever established with anyone on Greendale,” Jelly said. “She’s not answering.”
“Well, shit.” Static flowed through my vision. I braced for pain, but nothing came this time. “Keep trying. I need to go to Roxo.”
“But that’s not where you’re going, is it?” Jelly asked.
“Just work on my options. See if there’s a slip tunnel that takes us close to Roxo III on the way to Greendale,” I said, then worked on my own projects.
The notes I’d taken regarding my case weren’t reassuring. Whoever had framed the local gang bosses with my father’s murder had covered their tracks well. As a Reaper, I was impressed.
All I had was the allegation Callus had made. The son-of-a-bitch was beating me even after I killed him. Looking back on the circumstances, the crazy-ass conspiracy theory seemed a lot less plausible. I needed proof. And I needed a place to start.
“May I interrupt?” Jelly asked.
“Go ahead,” I said, still lost in thought.
“X-37 would advise you to focus on one thing at a time. You can’t help anyone until you take care of your own problems,” Jelly said.
“X would say that,” I agreed, pulling myself out of the mental funk I’d waded into. “He’d be right. But nothing’s ever that simple, unfortunately.”
“Then make it simple,” Jelly said.
I laughed. “Spoken like an inhuman thinking machine. I like it.”
“One other thing, Captain,” Jelly said.
“What’s on your mind, Jelly?” I asked, already feeling better.
“I’ve taken the liberty of preparing a more diverse menu. One of my former captains was quite the foodie. You can’t just eat meat and potatoes. That’s bachelor food,” Jelly said.
“Technically, bachelor food is mostly microwave noodles and beer,” I said. “I don’t have any beer.”
“Good point. Would you like to review the menu I prepared?” Jelly asked.
“Sure, but I’m not hungry right now. Remind me later,” I said.
* * *
The next day, I was at the library when it opened, and set up to spy on Paul Pauls the moment he arrived. This time, I knew he was more savvy and paranoid, the kind of target who looked over his shoulder without making the movement obvious and would vanish the moment I took my eyes off him. His engineering skills were in demand and mostly illegal.
I decided to eliminate some of the factors, such as crowds, public transport, and other dirty tricks he might try to play to escape my attention. Fool me once, shame on me. Fool me twice…no one fools me twice.
He walked in, selected a book, and started to read. I flipped through my own pages, watching until he was deeply engrossed in whatever story he was reading.
Then I marched over and sat down right next to him, practically touching shoulders as I looked at his selection of reading material. “So that’s why you never checked anything out,” I said.
He leaned back. “You’re very rude. Haven’t you ever been in a library before?” he said, holding the period romance away from me like I hadn’t already recognized what it was despite the Principles of Ancient Aeronautical Engineering dust cover he’d used to disguise the manuscript.
“I have, and I’ve also been on death row,” I said, interlacing my fingers as I fixed him with my gaze. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way.”
“I saw you following me yesterday,” he said, twisting to drop the book on a cart. He picked up a technical manual that I guessed he would check out as his official selection.
“You don’t know me, and you don’t want to know me. I need you to run a systems check on some cybernetic enhancements, and then fix what you can. I’ll need a referral to anyone you think can do the rest,” I said.
“You should’ve just asked me that in the first place,” he said coolly.
I leaned in close, causing him to draw back as far as he could, until he was almost falling out of his chair. “You don’t make it easy. I get it. But I am on a tight schedule and I’ll kill the next asshole who slows me down. Are we clear?”
He nodded vigorously.
We became fast friends, never out of each other’s sight. I took hold of his arm when we went out into public, helping him down a set of stairs like he was an invalid who couldn’t do it on his own. I made sure he felt the strength of my enhanced grip.
“Sometimes this thing malfunctions and causes me to crush whatever is in my hand,” I said.
“I already promised you I would do what I can,” he said petulantly. “Not every science geek gets the chance to fiddle with creepy and outdated technology like a Reaper arm.”
“You recognize it, good,” I said. “I appreciate that. Makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside. But do yourself a favor and think before you talk. Insulting a Reaper isn’t a great way to stay un-Reaped.”
Paul Pauls gulped and looked at his feet, body trembling in fear.
The rest of my time on Layton 5 was straightforward if not completely satisfying. Paul Pauls ran the diagnostic, made some slight adjustments to my own repair work that gave me temporary relief, and referred me to his contact on Roxo III—like I had time to go there.
The problem came later when I tried to leave the Layton 5 spaceport. There might’ve been a new batch of swearwords created when I realized I had to locate someone in the spaceport control tower to bribe.
This was the life of a Reaper that I remembered. It wasn’t all high-speed chases and assassinations. Most of it was dealing with the common bureaucracy of slip tunnel traveling and encouraging people to give up information, assist me on missions, or disappear.