[STORY] Best Served Cold (Complete with Epilogue)

[Tenlar Scarflame]

Very nice! Though were I in Danna's shoes I'd sell the Buster and hop over to the new Nova Raider. From the sound of it he has the capital to outfit it, and that would give him much increased survivability for when Farnsworth's goons come a-gooning.

The dynamic he has going with Val is taking an interesting turn, too...

Incidentally, when you say Vulture, I assume you mean Falcon. ^^

[gsheriston]

Very nice! Though were I in Danna's shoes I'd sell the Buster and hop over to the new Nova Raider. From the sound of it he has the capital to outfit it, and that would give him much increased survivability for when Farnsworth's goons come a-gooning.

The dynamic he has going with Val is taking an interesting turn, too...

Incidentally, when you say Vulture, I assume you mean Falcon. ^^

Good spot, Tenlar - thank you. It's now been fixed. I think he would love to have kept the Nova Raider but it had already caused him trouble. After a change of ownership, he'd probably be safe in Paranid sectors because they're such an information-based society. Argon or Boron space might be different though, he might have found himself wanted because of old information held locally. Teladi I assume just wouldn't care, and the Split? Well, any excuse for a fight...

[hierax]

I am seriously enjoying this. Even if you don't finish it in time for the superbox please finish it anyway. I would really like to know how cold scott will serve his dish!

[Trigger1112]

Just caught up. Fantastic as ever. Please, please, pleeease finish even if you can't make it for the superbox.

[gsheriston]

Fear not, folks - I have no intention of stopping, whether it makes Superbox or not.

[gsheriston]

Best Served Cold
Chapter Twenty-Nine - A Painful Date

It had been a hard decision, parting with that Nova Raider. I could see the potential of it, good speed (for its class, at least), excellent survivability, heavily armed. But the Paranid reaction to it really soured the appeal of this particular vessel. Sure, I could register a change of ownership and in Paranid space that would be reflected instantly in every ‘wanted’ list. Would that hold true in Black Hole Sun, or Menelaus’ Paradise, or Family Z’Rt? Would some local M6 commander see the ID on the screen flash red, because they hadn’t updated their lists for a while? Justice was very much a case of ‘shoot first, and keep shooting’. Questions would only be asked at an inquest. A bit late for my tastes.

However, both BlockBuster and Ol’ Faithful were repaired, re-fitted, ready to go again. I had the transporter device installed, Val had the new jumper up and running. And, with the remaining cash, we’d secured her a good cargo of PSGs to take somewhere – as long as it wasn’t a Pirate sector, I didn’t really care.

I did have something important to tell her, though. It was only a few stazuras since we’d gone to our respective sleep cells, but we were sitting at a table facing a veritable lake of kharve. Val had celebrated her escape or rescue rather harder than I had, and was looking a little blurry around the edges and loose at the seams.

“Better be important, gettin’ me out here this early. Matter o’ fact, better let me finish one o’ these before you start givin’ me vital info. Likely not to take it in yet.”

That was fine, I didn’t really know what I was going to say anyway. How do you casually tell someone not to worry, but they could have a possibly violent accountant hot on their trail who was really looking for me and in all honesty was technically well within his rights to start shooting?

“You finish up as much as you need. There’s no rush.”

“No rush? So you coulda let me sleep another stazura? That’s jus’ mean.” She shook her head – then grabbed it with both hands, groaning. “Urngh…. That was a bad idea… OK, lemme finish this mug and you can give me this world-shattering news.”

In my pocket, I had a log chip with Sarma’s recording on it. But it’s not the kind of thing you just casually pull out and show someone in the middle of a Paranid food hall.

“Whenever you’re ready, Val. I think we should go to your ship, there’s something on here I’d like you to see. You could be in danger soon, and I need to tell you why.”

“Ha! I’m always in danger. No safe places no more. Pirates get bolder, Toasters are more active, now bugs droppin’ in on any sector they please. Tell me somethin’ I don’t know!”

“This is a little more specific. People are going to be looking for me, and they might start by trying to get to you.”

Val looked a little shocked by this, the untidy brown mop of hair failing to conceal how wide her eyes got all of a sudden.

“What’ve you gotten me into? And how’re you gonna get me out of it, more importantly?”

“I’ll explain – but I need Ol’ Faithful’s log viewer to do it.”

“Promise to start talkin’ sense?”

“By whatever honour I have left, yes.”


Mercury cockpits aren’t renowned for their creature comforts, beyond the needs of the Pilot. Val settled into her seat, and I wasn’t sure how many of the groans were hers, and how many came from the chair. They’d been through a lot together, I knew. And despite the Kharve, she was still suffering from the previous night’s over-indulgence.

“Well, she’s not much, but she’s home. So whatcha got for me?”

I passed her the log chip. Val loaded it, we watched. Even then – and even now – it’s heartbreaking to see Sarma turn off the camera, knowing where she’s going and why. For a mizura or two afterwards, there was silence.

“Reckon you’re fixin’ to get this guy, right? How?”

“That’s the dangerous part. I believe I’ve found the company, if you look on the chip there are a couple of letters from them. Well, I’ve also taken out a loan. Remember when we were on our way to Argon Prime for repairs, just before I offered you the job? You decided maybe I wasn’t quite such a gentleman when you heard my reaction to the firm’s terms.”

“Oh, yeah – I remember that. You weren’t best pleased, I know that much. Not pleased at all.”

“Well, I’ve taken the loan. And steadily, I’ve been getting further and further behind on it – all deliberately. The balance I have at the moment will pay it off in full. That was always my plan. But I want this scum to come after me – and my concern is that he’ll do that by trying to get to you, first. Now, he has no reason to want to hurt you – it’s me that owes him money after all – but he might try and seize Ol’ Faithful here and I want you to be prepared.”

“Well, this here ship ain’t your property, so he’s no right to even try!”

“I know. Be as forceful and as vocal as you like – but the guy is slime. You now know what he’s capable of, and neither of us wants you facing any part of that. So, if he comes sniffing around, tell him I’ll be in Antigone Memorial. Then wave me, and let me know that he’s on his way.”

“What if you’re not there?”

“That’s why I want you to wave me. If I’m not there, I want to be.”

“He’ll have backup. ‘Less he’s stupid, anyways. Don’t be a hero, you can’t help either one of those two.” She waved at the screen, where Sarma’s tear-streaked face stared out past her arm as she stopped the recording.

“I owe them too much, Val. She gave me a ship, something to really get me started. And if I can take this guy out of the equation, I’ll feel better.”

“Bet you don’t. Whatever you’re gonna do to him, it’ll have to be real serious. Like… terminal kinda serious. Or he’ll jus’ keep comin’ after you with more guns and more ships, ‘till one of you is dead. And whatever you do to him will jus’ eat you alive. I know you, I know you hurt after every scum-sucking space-rat you have to kill. Leastways, I understand why you do that. But this? You’re talkin’ about a cold blooded murder, and that ain’t you. Not by a long way. I mean, I understand you wanna do what the lady says, Hells, I wanna do it myself right now. But it ain’t you.”

She was right, of course. I kept trying to run from the fact, but ultimately, that’s what I was planning- I just wasn’t planning it very thoroughly. I had a few ideas, but nothing permacrete. Honestly, I think I was trying to avoid planning it, so I didn’t have to face what I was doing. Maybe I was hoping he’d just show up and fight, then die in his ship – it would solve the problem, but wasn’t what Sarma had asked for.

“I have one request, before I go. If you ever meet a one-eyed Argon loan-shark, look in his good right eye, and tell him the woman that took his left wants him to know who sent you. Tell him that I know why he has to force himself on women, it’s because nobody would get so desperate that they would have him willingly. Then kill him. Make it bloody, messy, painful and above all, make it take a long time. At least two stazuras, knowing he’s going to die, and be in pain all that time.”

Those words had haunted me since I heard them the first time. Seeing the log again just brought it all home. Just one hitch, though – when I saw Farnsworth in Lisa’s office, he definitely looked like he had both eyes…

The mood in the cockpit was a little too sombre for me, I couldn’t afford to dwell on these thoughts or I might start thinking I needed something to take the edge off them. And I knew where that road led…

“I know what you’re saying, Val – I really do. But, well, it’s just one of those things I have to do or I’ll be seeing her face ‘till I die. I don’t have a choice. Which means I’d better get prepared, and that means it’s back to work for both of us. So… Are you going to look a little bit closer at your destination next time?”

Val’s wry smile was a little embarrassed, too.

“Sure am. Profit I lost not getting to that Soyery was painful!”

She’d had a nasty fright. Both of us had – and we both knew it. Not appearing to take it seriously was just Val’s way. I could only go along with it, and in truth it was just what I needed.

“Take me away from what I’m doing again, and I’ll have to start charging you for loss of earnings, jumpdrive fuel, wear-and-tear on the ship, expended missiles…”

“Yeah, yeah… You love it, hotshot. Arriving in the nick o’ time to save the day – can’t resist a damsel in distress, right? Regular, home-grown hero… Ain’t you got a galaxy to save or somethin’? Get outta here, I’m making no profit while we’re jabberin’ on!”

As I turned to leave, Val caught my hand.

“Hey. Be careful, Scott. We joke around a lot, I know - but I’m serious here. This guy will mean business, and if you’re dead then I’ve got nobody watchin’ me again. Even if you kill him, you might still be dead – just on the inside. Don’t like neither o’ them choices.”

I didn’t have a galaxy to save, not even a soul in it to rescue – none but my own. I had a pressing engagement in Antigone Memorial, and a long way to go without a jumpdrive. I set a course for Home of Light, and kicked off from the station. Behind me, Ol’ Faithful detached, and a few sezuras later the bright jump event lit up the crimson fog – Val was gone. I just hoped she remembered I literally couldn’t save her now until I got myself a new drive.

Almost two full tazuras later, I was back planetside on Antigone Memorial. Cold, overcast, blustery weather, fog covering everything and deadening sound. I might have been alone at the Gardens, there could have been a multitude in there. I wouldn’t have noticed, or cared. Today would have been Cora’s birthday, and I’d come to lay an onybara from her bush. Vanessa had been very generous again, and had offered me a cutting, when the season was right. But for now, she’d given me another bloom.

“I miss you. Every single day, every tazura, I miss you. You were my guide, my light, my friend, my comfort, my everything. You kept me coming home, gave me something to live for. I don’t have much of that left, now – and I don’t think I have much time left, either. I think I’ll be seeing you again soon, my love.”

I put the onybara to my face, breathing deeply the scent. For a sezura, I could smell her perfume again. I gently kissed the full, red bloom and closed my eyes against the tears.

The fog had left droplets covering the stone, and now as I laid the flower among those drops they started to coalesce on the petals too. While I looked into their faces on the holo, I could hear them all again – the random snippets of conversations, tones more than words; sounds, not sentences. They were still with me, and that was good.


BlockBuster held a surprise for me – a wave, from Lisa.
“Mr. Danna, this is Lisa Farnsworth. I must regretfully inform you that your default on our agreement has progressed to a point where the company cannot wait any longer and we are forced to act. Bailiffs have been instructed to seize property where possible, to the value of the outstanding loan. I’m sorry, Mr. Danna. I genuinely believed you had every intention of paying back the loan and a plan that would allow you to do so. Please do not make this seizure harder on yourself than it has to be, by resisting. Failure to comply with instructions will have consequences.”

I had a responsibility to someone. Val must be warned, the heat was on, and much sooner than I’d expected.

“Val? They’re coming. I just got a wave from Farnsworth’s company – whoever they’re sending, they’re on their way. I don’t know whether they’ll track you first, or me. I’m going to try and contact them, so they come this way. I’ll give them a sob-story, plead for more time, offer them the full amount, tell them where I’m going to be and when – that should keep the heat off you, but be alert. You know what I’m going to tell them – Antigone Memorial, 4.2.1.793. Don’t forget. If they start to even sound menacing, jump out and hole up somewhere. I want to meet them on my terms, not theirs. Don’t start a fight, please.”

“You got it, hotshot. Still think you’re crazy, and I still think it’s a real bad idea for your health. But I’ll go along with ya for now.”

“I know, I know. But we’ve been through that. One more thing – I need you to leave Sarma’s Peace alone from now until after it’s done. I know it’ll eat into your revenue stream, but I need her. I’ll authorise you to buy and operate another Mercury for me, if that’ll help?”

“Make it a Demeter, and it’s a deal. The Toucan’s all yours. These Paranid are a hungry bunch, a Demeter haulin’ Soja husk will make us both rich!”

I agreed, then signed off - I had preparations to make. Sarma’s Peace was in Kingdom End, and she needed a lot of work. I had a mazura to do it, and I had to stay off Farnsworth’s gravidar while it was done. First, though, I needed to try and buy as much of that mazura as I could. I grabbed some jumpdrive fuel, and headed East. Bluish Snout, to be precise. I docked at the Royal Boron Trading Station, and set about making myself look haggard and tired. It wasn’t hard. I used a public wave booth, BlockBuster’s cockpit didn’t look much like a freighter.

“Lisa, I keep getting your waves, and I keep responding but I don’t think you’re getting them. I’m trying a networked public booth on a trading station rather than the ship, hope this one gets through… I’ll say it all again anyway, just in case. Has any of the payment showed up yet? I’m having trouble getting an account in the Boron wastelands out East. I’m on to a big score here, but it’s taking time to pay off fully. I’m helping out the Boron with some supply issues they have – Xenon keep strolling through and taking out transports, so they’ve drafted in as many free traders as they can get just to keep the economy moving. Time and completion bonuses are huge for weapon and shield deliveries! I’m having to start small though, they’re only trusting me with e-cells at the moment but I’m effective and when they realise that, I’ll move up to the bigger goods. Honestly, Lisa – I just have to keep plugging away and I could be paying off way ahead of schedule. Just – call off the dogs for a while, huh? I reckon… maybe a mazura and I should be close. In fact, I’ll give you a deadline – 4.2.1.793, I’ll be at Antigone Memorial with all, or most of, your money. That, or I’ll be dead out here. How’s that for a deal? One mazura, and you can have everything I owe or everything I own, whichever is the lesser.”

A stazura later, in my sleep cell, the infoterminal gave off a gentle chime. Boron computer noises are never harsh.

“Scott, it’s good to hear from you at last, I can confirm that I’ve not received any other transmissions from you. I suggest you get your ship’s wave transmitter checked and repaired. Also I have to tell you we haven’t received a single credit for the last three wozuras – anything you can give us now will help me hold up the foreclosure process. Is there any chance you could get those three payments to us? I want to help you, and it sounds like you’re on track – but I need something from you to show willing. You have until the end of the tazura to respond, I hope to hear from you very soon.”

If you’re looking for a motive – try greed, it’s usually reliable. This was perfect… Three wozuras? I probably had that in loose change floating around the ship. OK, so that’s a figure of speech, but you get the idea. I sauntered over to a local bank and authorised a transfer – two-and-a-half payments. Then I went back to the booth, and waved again.

“Lisa, thanks for your wave. I just sent over almost all of it – I’d have sent more but wanted to keep enough back to make sure I could wave you to acknowledge receipt and tell you what I’d done. That’s just about cleaned me out for the moment, but because I’m a delivery boy, I don’t need a trading capital right now – just more fighter drones, and the bonuses are almost keeping up with that cost. Gotta fly smarter, I guess! Let me know if the payment doesn’t get through, but if it doesn’t I have no idea what I’m gonna do. I’ve paid the last three wozuras four times now and none of it reaches your account. I’m reading it from your letter, so unless it’s changed and you didn’t tell me I can’t figure out where it’s going.”

By the time I got back to the sleep cell, Lisa had been back to me.

“We’ve received, Scott – thank you. I can grant you that stay – but I have to warn you, if you aren’t there, we will come looking. That won’t be pleasant for you Scott.”

I didn’t care. I’d got my stay of ‘execution’, and time to get ready. She was right about one thing – it wouldn’t be pleasant for me…

[gsheriston]

Best Served Cold
Chapter Thirty - Anniversary

It’s a jazura now since they were taken from me. A whole jazura, and not a single mizura has gone by where I haven’t felt their loss. I’m standing by the stone at BalaShandra, a small hand-tool in one hand and a cutting from Cora’s old onybara bush in the other. There’s one flower left on it, and that is beginning to wilt. Otherwise, it’s a healthy specimen. It’s early Spring on the surface, a good time for planting. I’ve checked with Iona, and she’s happy for me to plant the bush by the stone. Onybaras don’t have deep roots, they tend to go just a short way down then spread out a little. It’s why they’re so fragile, being close to the surface. It’s no danger to the stone, or any others nearby. In time, I might have to move it behind the stone so it doesn’t block the holo or the inscription. For now though, I’m planting it right in front, where they can all look down on it from the holo and the deep red will contrast with the black stone once it’s blooming again. The bright, warm sun and light breeze seems very much at odds with the dark quiet of my heart at the moment.

“What’s wrong, love?”

Cora’s words were gentle, soothing. I’d been away for just a few tazuras since the blazing row over her indiscretion with Daniel and my absence in general. I’d come home feeling quiet, but tense – I hadn’t known what I would find when I arrived, who would be there, if anyone would be there.

“Can we do this, Cora? I mean – I have to be away, there’s no choice. What if I’m away too long again? What if you get bored of being here without me, or just sick of me not being here? Am I going to come back one day and just find a message light blinking?”

“If you do, it’s because you’ve not been listening to me. I couldn’t just go without telling you why, and giving you chance to change. I thought you knew that, after last wozura. Didn’t I make it clear enough? We spoke about how we were going to be different, if you can stick to that, so can I. That’s what people do when they care about each other – they talk, and if necessary, they try to change. I can Scott, and I’m sure you can too.”

I had changed. Cora rarely went more than two tazuras without me coming home. It cost us in energy cells and the investment in a jumpdrive, but we kept our marriage – definitely a worthwhile investment in our eyes. In many ways, we were happier then than we had been for a long time. That period between the argument and Bethany’s arrival was almost as free as the time before we’d married – everything just felt natural again, something we’d been missing for some time. Once Beth was born, we were just as happy – but there were other priorities, then.

I’m no gardener, but the onybara bush is now firmly planted before the stone. In time, it will bloom again. Down on my knees, leaning over the tiny cutting with my forehead on the stone, tears start to flow as I remember brief flashes from our lives together. Just like the funeral, or waking up on the Distillery and reading the name change message for the Crystal Chaser. You don’t need to know what I saw, the moments I recalled. The insignificant (to you) family moments wouldn’t mean anything to you, and some of the others between myself and Cora are, frankly, none of your business.

I couldn’t tell you how long I’ve been here, save for the change in the sun’s position. Most of that time, my mind has been blank, or flooded. Not directed, or thinking specifically – like a screen in a holo theatre, with an inattentive operator; images appear on it at random, or they don’t appear at all. That’s how my mind had been. But now, as the sun is starting to fall lower in the sky, I pledge something to them. By the next anniversary, either the Pirate base will be in ruins, or I will be. In all fairness, I have amassed a fairly sizeable bank balance. Val’s trading is paying off well, so is my own – and with the income from captured ships and the bounties from destroyed ones, I have done well. If I could persuade the Argon authorities to sell one, I could probably buy a Centaur – though I might struggle to arm and shield it adequately. Not that this matters, because the Argon authorities are not about to let a pocket battleship fall into the hands of a recovering alcoholic with anger issues and no sense of self-preservation. It’s a bad combination. I’m going to have to do something about that, though – the Centaur would be my weapon of choice for the destructive orgy I have in mind.

First, though, there is another matter. Farnsworth. And it’s to him I should be attending now. My family are gone, and weeping over their memorial stone will do nothing for them or for me. I should be gone too.

“Ohhhh, Cora. What am I doing?”

The long sigh seemed to go on forever – like it contained all my fears and tension. “I have to do something terrible – but I have to do it. I owe it to them. By the end of the tazura, I’ll be ready to join you or I’ll have killed a man in cold blood. Again. And this time I can’t even claim it’s the heat of battle. He’s going to come to me, there will be a fight, and then I’m going to do awful things to him. I hope you can forgive me, even support what I’m doing – but I can’t help but feel like you’d be horrified by what I’ve become. I feel like the man you loved is already dead – I’m just walking around in his skin for a while.”

Kneeling by the stone, it should have been a peaceful scene. There were a few others in the BalaShandra memorial garden, scattered among the stones – some with flowers or stuffed toys, some kneeling as I was, some simply standing lost in their own thoughts and memories. It was a peaceful scene – just that I couldn’t feel any peace. I wasn’t scared, I was going to do what I could and if I failed – well, then the pain and loss would be over. Val would gain a sudden inheritance. If I succeeded, I’d have paid a debt to a couple I never knew but still owed a great deal. But I’d still have to deal with how I felt, and that might not be easy. Val had been right - failure might be better.

The onybara bush gave off its usual scent. As I ran my hands up towards the one bloom a couple of the petals, caught by the wind, detached and dropped down onto the back of my hand. their colour made me look bloodstained. The wind grew stronger, and I swear I heard Cora's voice again. Not words, just a resigned and disappointed sigh.

“I know, Cora. I know. It’s… Well, I can’t put it into words. I never thought I’d even be able to contemplate it. But I have to, for their sake – and to save others from the same fate. Me included. I wish you were here. You’d either make me feel better or talk me out of it. But you can’t do either of those things…”

The tears came slowly. For once, they weren’t for her or the children. They were for me. I was sure I was signing my own death warrant, physically or emotionally. But, I had no choice.

“I have to go. He’ll be here soon. I miss you. I will love you forever. And I might see you sooner than you expected.” As my fingers traced over the names, and across the hologram, I squeezed my eyes shut to clear them. I stood, and began the trip back to BlockBuster.

I sat waiting, in clear space, at zero speed. I wasn’t waiting long.

“Danna? Farnsworth. Lisa told me you’d be here, with our money, and that you wanted to talk. So, talk- and make it convincing. You owe us a great deal of money, Mr. Danna. A very great deal. Do you have it, or not?”

The Mamba had arrived at the South gate, with a pair of Busters for escort. He was either a good evasive pilot, or wanted to be able to run. The Mamba’s not shielded well, but Gods is it fast for M3 class. I guessed the Busters were supposed to slow down any opposition so he could escape, or keep people occupied while he made hard-hitting fast runs. Split ships are also very heavily armed.

“Actually, I do have it. All of it, the entire outstanding balance. I’m not some shiftless layabout who did nothing but enjoy the money, I made it work for me just like I told Lisa I would. However, that’s not what I wanted to discuss. I wanted to talk to you about a previous deal. A loan you made, that wasn’t paid back – and the reprisals you dished out to the defaulters.”

“Friends of yours? Whoever they were, they knew the terms of the agreement and got what was coming to them.”

“You have one mizura to exit your ship, Farnsworth. One mizura, then I open fire in their name. Your escorts are free to go, if they wish. My argument is with you.”

There was silence from the short range comm. System. Presumably Dominic was co-ordinating, or perhaps threatening, his escorts on a secure channel. They started moving, one above, one below, both fanning out to flank me. Fair enough, if they joined the fight then they were valid targets. The Mamba just sat there in space.

“No response, Dominic? Just going to sit there?”

“Damn right. I want you to shoot first, Police don’t look to kindly on that in these parts”

He was right, we both knew it. If I started the fight, I’d be in big trouble here.

Jump device charging at… ten percent

“I don’t have to shoot at all. Not directly. I have a document and a recording here that I’d like to send to Lisa. Actually, that’s not true. I wouldn’t like to send it at all – she seems like a fair and decent woman and I wouldn’t want to hurt her by letting her see what a monster her Father is. And this is just one case, I dread to think how many more there are…”

Fifty percent

“Whatever you’ve got, it’s not enough to convict me or you’d have gone to the Police yourself. Or maybe you realise that I have an… understanding… with some of the local forces? Occasionally I have to deal with ‘shiftless layabouts’ as you put it, and it’s easier if I don’t have to watch too closely where it happens. Alright, guys. We’re done here. Toast him.”

The Busters had been manoeuvring, orienting themselves on each flank. Whichever way I moved, I was in someone’s line of fire and each of them was far enough away to cover me. I’d seen that, which is why I’d planned an alternative option. I couldn’t have timed it better if I’d tried.

Jumping…

[gsheriston]

Best Served Cold
Chapter Thirty-One - Capture

The jump-tunnel resolved itself back into stars, and about 10km ahead a very surprised Mamba had just turned on its nose and accelerated to full speed. The Busters were now a little behind it, and further away. High-energy plasma lanced out from the Mamba’s nose and flanks, searing space in my direction but from far enough away that I could comfortably ignore it. Farnsworth realised it too, they were shots fired in anger rather than with any hope of causing damage. Good. He was angry, and that didn’t go well with accurate flying or sound tactical decisions. He wanted me dead, and dead now. His cohorts joined the fight, the bright white PAC blasts striking sparks from the shields – now they were in range, I had to do something about it. The starfield spiralled as I threw BlockBuster into a tight twisting roll, drawing circles around the incoming fire. How is everyone so bad at this? Can nobody else co-ordinate a strafe drive in combat? In time, both the Busters had succumbed to PAC fire and the occasional stray HEP bolt from the Mamba. Just two of us left, now.

“You’ve seen what I can do, Farnsworth. Give up. You can evac, and we’ll talk – or you can fight on, and you die. Your choice.”

“You just want to talk? You killed two of my guys, just to talk? I don’t believe you.”

“Only one way to find out. But I’m losing patience, and I didn’t have much to start with. You still have your daughter to think of.” I tickled the Mamba again with the IRE pair I still had installed.

“OK. OK, OK. I’m coming out. Stop firing.”

This was it, the event I’d been waiting for. I accessed the property menu, and activated another ship. A few sezuras later, Sarma’s Peace arrived in-sector at the South gate and started heading for our position.

“You might remember this ship, Farnsworth. You might not. But I intend to remind you.”

As the TP got within range, I keyed the transporter and beamed aboard. I was going to fly the ship, but only once. Drawing closer to Farnsworth’s suit, I opened the passenger bay and let him come aboard – but held him in the airlock. The comlink allows a few special effects on a TP, to entertain the passengers. I made my voice a little deeper, a little more hollow, a little more mechanical. I wanted him off-balance.

“Weapons scanners indicate you have two sidearms. You are in a pressurised atmosphere, you can safely remove your suit. Leave the sidearms on the floor.”

“Like hells… “

“Or I can purge the atmosphere and keep the doors locked on both sides. Standard issue spacesuit gives approximately two stazuras of breathable air. I can be patient.”

“Futz you. OK, I’ll play this out. Keep the air in here, I have to de-suit to get to the smaller pistol.”

The camera showed him removing both a heavy-duty laser sidearm from a pocket on the suit, and a much smaller hold-out taped to his arm. He kicked them to the space-side of the small room, and moved to the other side.

“Happy now, low-life?”

“Not yet. In a few sezuras, the airlock door will open to the passenger lounge area. You are on camera, and the area is brightly lit. Failure to comply with instructions will have consequences. Do you understand?”

“Whatever. Just quit the theatrics and get on with it. I’m a busy man, Danna.”

“Not for long. When the door opens, you will go through the passenger lounge to the sleeping quarters. Locate suite 4, and wait by the door for further instructions. All other doors are locked. Take no more than one mizura to reach suite 4. The doors will open in 3… 2… 1…”

I opened the airlock, on the passenger lounge side. I was a little surprised to find that he didn’t even attempt anything unusual – just did exactly as he was told. Either he was scared, or he was planning something. As he approached the door, I turned out the lights in the passenger lounge, and activated one lamp in the suite – it would shine directly into his face when he opened the door.

“The door ahead of you is Suite 4. The door is unlocked. When instructed, you will open it and…”

He reached for the door, then stiffened abruptly as a charge coursed through him when he touched it. I’d wired the handle to the heating in the room, and it was electrified unless I turned off the heating.

“Open the door when instructed. Failure to comply with instructions will have consequences. When you have opened the door, take four paces straight ahead, into the light. You will find a chair. Sit in it, and await further instructions. Open the door now.”

While I had been speaking, I had turned off the heating – the door was safe to open. Farnsworth did so, and immediately threw up his hands to protect his eyes. Then I realised he was only covering his right eye, he was still looking around.

Of course… The ACC operative in his office, the pink skin – suddenly it all made sense. A cybernetic eye, implanted to replace the one Sarma gouged out. It also meant I had less of an advantage than I’d hoped. I could use infra-red cameras from the control room, while he was in the dark – but when I left the control room, he might still be able to see even if I left the lights off. That made things awkward. He could have all sorts of fancy gadgets installed. It might not just be his eye…

He found the chair, and sat down. “OK, I followed your instructions to the letter. You realise your interest rate doubled as soon as I left my ship, don’t you? Nothing you can say or do will change my mind, or dig you out of the hole you’re putting yourself in. And that cute trick with the door handle will cost you extra, too. I’m going to own you, Danna.”

Maybe. Probably not, though. I still had a few tricks left up my sleeve too.

“You will start to feel nauseous soon. The cosmic ray shielding is now online and building to maximum intensity. Delicate electronics react badly to the magnetic fields it creates. This also applies to the central nervous system.”

“Uh… I thought you just wanted to talk?”

“That is correct.”

“You got a funny way of talking.”

“Direct your attention to the screen to your right.”

I lit up the suite’s holoscreen. On it, I projected holos from the albums Sarma left in her room.

“This couple were Jak and Sarma Koshi, clients of yours. They borrowed from you, to buy this ship. But times were hard, and the tours they hoped to run were poorly subscribed. They fell behind on payments. Jak tried to hide the scale of his debts from his wife. You caught up with them, and murdered him. For that, your life is forfeit.”

“Hey, you just wanted to talk!”

“That is correct.”

“So what’s all this ‘life is forfeit’ argnucrap?”

“Sometimes we are forced into actions we do not want to take. I only want to talk. Other actions are things I must do. I do not want to do them.”

He stood, quickly. I had locked the door to the suite when he entered it, and now I turned on the heating- electrifying the handle again. He realised his mistake just a couple of sezuras too late, and took another charge for his trouble.

“Failure to comply with instructions will have consequences. Be seated.”

He was a little less steady on his feet, now. The ray shielding was beginning to affect him, his vision was becoming skewed as the neural interface started to give off random signals. Soon, it would begin to actively hurt. Normally, the passenger cabins were screened from the shields by a metallic mesh, but I’d removed that screen in Suite 4. I injected a sedative into the air mix of the suite, and waited. After a mizura, Farnsworth slumped forward. Now was the time. I shut off the sedative, and put on a breather mask. I checked the retrieval control in my pocket, making sure it was properly shielded – surrounded by a flexible metallic bag through which I could operate the single control button – and triggered the transporter device.

Looking down on the back of Farnsworth’s head and his wide, powerful shoulders, I knew I would only have one chance. He would metabolise the sedative quickly, and would be coming round soon. I cut the shirt from his back, and lifted his hands over his head. Where his wrists met, I affixed cuffs and chained them to a hoist I had in the ceiling. The winch lifted Farnsworth out of the chair and I moved it away. I thumbed the control in my pocket, and vanished from the room.

[SOTS]

I... wow. Speech is an issue. I cannot wait to see the end! But I also can, because if this story ends, it's over. Dilemma!

Also this makes me feel guilty for not writing more on Siege. Must remedy that...

Keep up the fantastic work!

[Trigger1112]

Fantastic as ever. You sir, are a master of characterisation.

Keep it going i can't wait to find out what happens.

[Prof X]

Just wanted to wish you all the best for getting the story to the point where it can be considered at an 'ending' in order to be submitted to the Superbox

Though I do hope you continue writing after that anyway... the short story you posted was certainly very intriguing and unexpected

I think it all hinges on the next part really, Scott is potentially going to end up either dead on the outside or dead on the inside

Unfortunately I will be offline until Monday evening so I will have to wait until then to find out what's going to happen next and whether it's going to happen before Sunday.

Good luck anyway!

[Tenlar Scarflame]

Danna's certainly exercising a flair for theatrics. Good stuff!

[gsheriston]

I now have a document in MS Word format containing Best Served Cold, including the six parts not yet posted. That is for submission to Superbox. Don't worry, the new parts will all get posted - just probably not for a few days. It's been a busy weekend, and I have some very understanding hosts who have let me write undisturbed for most of the last 36 hours...

It's now 5:30am and I think sleep is calling me.

[Tenlar Scarflame]

A round of applause is definitely deserved here. You've crafted a fantastic story, and I have no doubts that the finale will be epic.

Now go get some sleep!

[The Zig]

Great. Really great.

Very interested to see how this plays out. It looks as though he's going to go against his personal code to avenge Mr and Ms Koshi. Not a bad plan. But then I can't help wondering if he'll find some way out. Will he have the stomach?
And there's Lisa. She's a definite complication to getting away with murder.

But we'll see.
Anyway, it's great to see so many parts posted, and good to hear you're essentially at completion. Once you've posted it all, I'll definitely read it again beginning to end with no delays - that's the best bit!

Come on... post the next bit now so that we all know what happens before Prof X can find out!

[gsheriston]

Best Served Cold
Chapter Thirty-Two - R&R: Retribution & Remorse

Farnsworth was coming around. Immediately, he started ranting and raving, alternating with pained noises. He was hanging from his wrists alone, his body weight stretching his shoulders from their sockets. He just about managed to catch hold of the chain, so he could use his hands to support himself but he was still in considerable distress.

“You have been brought here not to answer for your crimes, but to acknowledge them. You have no control over your fate and your answers will not change your situation. There is no benefit to be gained by hiding the truth. Do you remember Jak and Sarma Koshi?”

“Yes! Futz you, yes, I remember them. Cut me down!”

“Did you kill Jak Koshi?”

He was trying to pull himself up to relieve the pressure on his shoulders – massive as they were, he was having a little success, too. He would tire eventually, though, and that would hurt.

“Gnnnnah! Yeah, I pulled the trigger. What do you care? It was faster and cleaner than what you’re doing to me. I assume you’re planning to kill me, too? Should Lisa come after you next?”

I couldn’t argue with that – he had a good point. Right about then, I was no better than he was. And it was going to get worse. But, I still had more messages to get across to him. I turned out the lamp that had shone in his face, leaving him in total darkness.

“The ray shielding is now at maximum intensity. Magnetic fields are confusing the signals both in your brain and between your brain and the rest of your body. Nausea is likely. You may experience muscle spasms. Electronic devices may start to malfunction. Muscles will tire faster.”

Psychology is a wonderful thing, and the mind is a powerful weapon. The power of suggestion can work miracles, if given free rein. I had left Dominic with no input other than his aching arms, his stomach, his ears, and whatever was left of his cybernetic implants. It was entirely possible that they were well-shielded and functioning normally – but they could also be entirely useless or actively causing pain. I wanted the voice he heard to remain authoritative and unfeeling. I didn’t dare ask about his current state, it could have given him an emotional contact, the impression that someone cared for his wellbeing. Instead, I planted thoughts about what should be happening to him and let his mind do the rest.

“Did you, after killing her husband in front of her, assault and rape Sarma Koshi?”

“What’s it to you?”

Time for another input. I activated the temperature controls, dialling them down to minimum. The Koshis had installed good systems on their ship, so the temperature in the room plummeted to well below the manufacturer’s intended range – another modification I had performed, removing both upper and lower limits.

“You were instructed to answer a question. Failure to comply with instructions will have consequences. Answer the question. Did you, after killing her husband in front of her, assault and rape Sarma Koshi?”

His head dropped forward, on to his chest. I almost couldn’t hear his answer, but I just about made it out.

“Yeah. Yeah, I did. Paid for it, too. Bitch cost me two hundred grand in cybernetics and surgery, didn’t even get me off. Should’ve killed her too, for that. I would have, if I hadn’t needed a medic so badly.”

The holoscreen lit up again, and on it was the opening frame of Sarma’s last log entry.

“You did kill her. These are her last words.”

I played the log entry, and while it played I collected two items from the tool kit I had laid out. The transporter device was re-set, and the recall switch ready again. I would be in the room for some time, so I killed the cosmic ray shielding. It would be stupid to make myself feel sick too. Well, more sick. I felt bad already, and was sure I’d feel worse shortly. As Sarma’s arm reached for the off-switch of her recording device, I triggered the transporter device again – appearing behind Farnsworth once more.

“You killed her. It took her a mazura to die, but you killed her. Just as surely as you killed Jak. Knowing this, what do you think should happen to you?”

“There are two kinds of people in this galaxy, Danna – winners and losers. They were losers, and they paid the price for it. They didn’t have the strength or the wits to stop me. Neither do you.”

“An interesting statement, given your current position. You heard what she asked for, and I am going to deliver. You are going to feel pain, for two stazuras. And then you are going to die.”

He tried kicking out at me, but I had been expecting it and was out of range. His violent motion had started him spinning, so he slowly rotated to face me. As soon as he could, he spat directly in my face.

“Futz you, Danna. Futz you. My people will hunt you down. You won’t be able to sleep, because if you do, there will be one tazura when you just won’t wake up. They will keep coming, and coming, and coming. Lisa will see to that. You won’t be able to trade, because you’ll be under constant attack. She’ll have every police force searching for you. Argon, Boron, hells, the way she works you’ll likely have the Xenon chasing you down. And for what? So you can do what some burned out loser said you should, even though she’ll never know? I don’t know what’s driving you, Danna – but to me you’re not right in the head. Cut me down, and I might even let you live. Maybe.”

In my hand, I held a plasma cutter. They’re shipworking tools, designed for welding loose panels together or for cutting out sections that needed to be repaired. They generate intense heat, vaporising gas and a small amount of a metal rod to form a sharp tipped jet that looked like a flame, though it needed no oxygen to burn. I lit it, in front of him.

“The Argon nervous system is a strange thing, Dominic. Wonderful, certainly – but very strange. It has tolerances, like any electrical circuit. You’ve already felt how susceptible it can be to strong magnetic fields, though I’m pleased you were strong enough not to vomit on my floor. What you might not know is how it reacts to extreme temperatures. Overload it, and it can give very strange results.”

I began pacing around him, slowly. He kept trying to twist to follow me, but didn’t have that much control. As I passed behind him I quickly wiped my face. I also pointed the cutter at his back, waving it gently so he could feel the heat on his skin– but nowhere near close enough that it could cause him damage. Not yet. I continued my circle.

“Do you know what would happen if I put this plasma cutter to your skin? It would form a hard, charred crust almost instantly, searing the outer epidermis into carbon. Underneath that, the muscles and fats would cook, and then expand – bursting the carbon shell, leaving the molten fats to run down your back. The wound would be cauterised, so you wouldn’t bleed – but the blood in that area would boil. Finally, your spine would start to harden and fuse – you would be unable ever to bend again. All this would take approximately three sezuras.”

His grip on the chain was starting to slip, and in his eyes was a new sensation. Terror. I had detailed his crimes, and he had admitted them. I had shown him the consequences of his crimes, and he had expressed no remorse. I had even shown him the sentence requested by his victim, and still he had shown nothing. Now, though, the reality of his situation was starting to dawn on him. Few can really contemplate the end of their own life. Fewer still can imagine truly horrific injuries – but Dominic now had a lot of information for his imagination to work with.

And every time I walked behind him, I got a little closer with the cutter. Every time I walked in front of him, he could see the plasma point. There were tears in his eyes, now – and whimpers when he thought I couldn’t hear. I pretended not to notice, and continued my graphic medical lecture.

“But the really strange thing is this – your nervous system can’t cope with all of that. It would go into a ‘survival’ mode, and effectively shut down. It’s even remotely possible you might not feel any pain at all… Though that’s not really likely. Before it shuts down, it will still be trying to communicate sensations – but because it’s overloaded, sometimes the signals get confused. Hot and cold, pain and pleasure, highs and lows, that sort of thing. You’ve seen electrical systems fail, you get sparks everywhere. It’s much the same. But, I’ve talked long enough. I think it’s time we got started, don’t you?”

I completed another circle, ending behind him. This time, I didn’t continue. He was shaking, and crying. Sobs wracked his body, and he started pleading for me to stop. I took his shoulders, and tried to steady him. Then I held the cutter near his ear, so he could hear the roaring plasma jet – some of his hair singed a little. I washed the cutter over his back again, to warm it up. The snivelling stopped, and was replaced by a deathly quiet broken only by the plasma cutter, and the sounds of a liquid hitting the floor as he lost some internal control.

From another pocket, I produced another tool. One I’d picked up in a bar somewhere. It was a liquid-nitrogen cooling stirrer, designed to chill drinks instantly. I brought the cutter closer to his shoulders than it had been before, then ran the stirrer down his spine.

He screamed, and fainted.

Activating the transporter recall, I left the room – just in time. Back in the control room, I pumped the suite full of anaesthetic, and slumped into the pilot’s seat as my legs gave way and Farnsworth went under. I wasn’t sure I could go on. This wasn’t teaching someone a lesson, it was torture. It was not justice but vengeance. I didn’t deserve to call myself Cora’s husband any more. That Scott Danna, the one who had a family who loved him, was truly dead now. I didn’t really feel I had the right to call myself Argon, what I was doing would be classified as a war crime even by the Split. But, having gone this far, I had no option but to continue. From under the control console, I pulled a bottle of the Distillery’s finest and raised it to my lips. With fully quarter of the bottle inside me, I set about the rest of my task. First, I unlocked the door to Suite 4 and made sure the electrification was off. Farnsworth was going nowhere, with the anaesthetic levels in there. Then I grabbed my breather mask, and headed back to the airlock where I picked up his suit. When I got to the suite, I put on the mask and opened the door. It was a struggle, but I got him into the suit. His shoulders were dislocated and his wrists broken when he fainted, losing all grip on the chain and falling that short distance. I plugged a chip into the communications system – it would allow him to receive, but not transmit on anything but a very local range. It would also, while it wasn’t receiving, play the audio from Sarma’s log every ten mizuras on a loop.

By now, we were many kilometres from the main sector or any passing traffic. I dragged Farnsworth to the airlock, then sealed his suit. I put the larger sidearm back in his pocket, stepped back out of the airlock and ejected him into space.

I went back to the control room, and waited. Presently, the local radio receiver crackled into life. Farnsworth sounded in a great deal of pain. Having to operate controls with broken wrists and dislocated shoulders will do that to a person.

“Joke’s over, Danna. Pick me up, and you can still live. Hells, pick me up and I’ll wipe out your debt.”

I fired the ship’s engines on minimum throttle, and started to pull away. He had maybe ten mizuras before I was out of range.

“I made a promise to Sarma. I have kept that promise. You have about two stazuras of air in that suit. I think you’re maybe three from the nearest station even at maximum speed– and in your current injured state, I think you’re using air faster than normal. You can fire your thrusters, but it will hurt. Ships do not come out this way, so the chances of rescue by another vessel are minimal and even if one did, your radio won’t reach them unless they’re closer than 6km. If it is of any comfort to you, I will ensure Lisa gets the company’s money. I will also spare her the pain of knowing the man you really are. You’ll notice I have put your larger sidearm in your outer suit pocket. That gives you another option – but if you choose not to take it, you will asphyxiate out here, among the stars, as Sarma did. You will not hear from me again. I take no pleasure in your death, Dominic Farnsworth – but considerable satisfaction that you can harm nobody else. Scott Danna out.”

I set a course back for the trading station, and collapsed into an exhausted and tortured sleep. As I lost consciousness, I could hear Dominic still pleading for his life over the short-range radio. When I awoke on final approach to the station, I could hear nothing but static.

[SOTS]

... Wow. What a kick in the teeth.

[gsheriston]

Great. Really great.

Very interested to see how this plays out. It looks as though he's going to go against his personal code to avenge Mr and Ms Koshi. Not a bad plan. But then I can't help wondering if he'll find some way out. Will he have the stomach?
And there's Lisa. She's a definite complication to getting away with murder.

But we'll see.
Anyway, it's great to see so many parts posted, and good to hear you're essentially at completion. Once you've posted it all, I'll definitely read it again beginning to end with no delays - that's the best bit!

Come on... post the next bit now so that we all know what happens before Prof X can find out!

Posted, as requested! Though I don't know how satisfied people will be with this, or the rest...

I have to say that the Superbox file is a compromise, to get the story included. I still would like to add to it, go into more detail around things like how to stop Lisa unleashing hell on Scott, produce a single PDF, that sort of thing - maybe even tidy up some of the style and the tense switches... Sometimes the narrative is 'told as history', sometimes it's 'here and now'- and that sits a little uneasily with me. I just wrote it as I felt it or as it came to me, usually the 'here and now' parts are that way because they feel a bit more powerful in that tense, the emotions more raw and immediate.

And, there could also be other stories to tell...

But I'd like to come back and re-work this one once I know a bit more about how to write. I have a lot to learn, I think.

[gsheriston]

Oh, all right - since people have been so patient...

Best Served Cold
Chapter Thirty-Three – Foreseeable Consequences

“Gods you’re in a bad way.”

Whoever was talking was hazy and indistinct. I could barely hear them, but it was only polite to respond.

“Hhnnnnugnnngghhhhhhh…”

“Come on, hotshot. Time to wake up.”

“Wstm? Hoooryu? Wssp?”

They were all vital questions. Wish I could remember what they were. When I opened an eye, someone stabbed me in it – they used a hell of a lot of photons, but it might as well have been a vibroblade. When I closed it, I saw Farnsworth’s suit flying out of the TP’s airlock, or his wrists breaking when he fainted, or the puddle forming beneath his feet, or… It was probably better to risk the photons.

“I told you this would happen. I knew if you did it, you’d never be the same man. Argnucrap, what am I supposed to do now?”

Another voice entered the discussion

“Val Kleppen, you should remove him if you can. I will assist, if you require.”

“Why, thank ya, Sir. Gonna need a crane at this rate, he’s nothin’ but a deadweight right now.”

I risked my eyes again, and once more they were stabbed. Opening them was pointless, I couldn’t see anything anyway – overloaded nervous systems can do strange things, after all. Just a big, bright blur. Might as well have been staring at the surface of a star… There were hands and flippers under my arms, my head and my shoulders, and I could feel movement. Just don’t ask me to describe how I moved, because I blacked out again.


“Drink this, you’ll feel better.”

I was propped up on a bed, semi-reclined. I tried to offer thanks, but I was too parched to speak. I tried to take the proffered glass, but my arms wouldn’t do what I wanted them to. Instead, a small hand held my head forward and put the glass to my lips.

“Small sips. Don’t choke on this stuff, OK?”

The room was very dim, which suited me fine. After a mizura or so, I was starting to feel a little more Argon. Not that I had any right to, not after what I’d done. I was in a sleep-cell, on a station. Beyond that, I couldn’t say very much for definite – but judging by how I was feeling I’d have to take a guess at the Space Fuel Distillery in Herron’s Nebula. There was another person in the room, and the voice identified her. Val had come looking for me.

“Rest up. When you’ve got your strength back, we can talk. For now, jus’ lie back an’ sleep. I ain’t going nowhere, you’re safe here.”

I did as I was told. It seemed the best thing to do.

It could have been mizuras, stazuras – even tazuras later when I awoke again. My head was still pounding, and my mouth still felt like it was lined with silica-paper. But I could at least move my head and arms, if I had to. Getting up might have been problematic, though.

“You’re lucky you got friends lookin’ out for you. Loli Pa reckons you shoulda never gotten hold o’ that bottle. Stick to shots, he can keep an eye on ya that way. If he’d realised you’d had the bottle, he’d’ve thrown ya out soon as look at ya. Now we got a problem. Had you checked out – the doc says you’s about two shots away from full-blown alcohol poisonin’, and that coulda done for ya. Reckons you need maybe a wozura o’ rehab just to clear your system – an’ another three to help ya with the addiction. And he don’t even know about what’s messin’ with your head. I do, though. An’ Scott, you gotta talk about it. You gotta tell me what you did. Not now, but soon – or it’ll eat ya alive, jus’ like I said. S’OK, hotshot. I ain’t gonna tell nobody. Be our secret. Guess it’s my turn to look after you, right? You’s certainly in no shape to look after yourself, that’s for sure.”

I felt that small hand on my forehead again, and it was icy cold.

“Sheesh, you’re burnin’! Try an’ drink some o’ this. Water, two parts hydrogen, one part oxygen. Mixed it my own self. That’ll help, an’ I bet you’ve got a bangin’ headache too. Dehydrated, see? This’ll see ya right. Then sleep. We’ll chat later, ‘kay?”

She was right. I did start to cool down, and it did ease my head. Enough so I could sleep again, anyway.


“How long have I been out?”

“’Bout two stazuras. How’re you feelin?”

“Uhngh. Not great. I ache everywhere and I’m drier than a Teladi bath. How about you?”

“I’m bored, an’ I’m worried ‘bout you. ‘Part from that, everythin’s in the green.”

“Anyone asked about Farnsworth?”

“Only me. An’ you been in no fit state to talk. Reckon you can manage it now?”

“Do I have to? I’m not proud of it.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I reckon you do. Might help ya see jus’ how bad you been – or not. I don’ know yet. Could be you’re beatin’ yoursel’ up over nuthin’. Jus’ start at the beginnin’, an’ if you gotta stop, then stop. I ain’t sittin’ here in judgement, hotshot. I jus’ need ya to start acceptin’ what ya did, an’ fast.”

“OK, well… He brought a couple of goons – they wouldn’t go away so I had to shoot them down. They had orders to kill, I gave them chance to leave – nothing I could have done. Farnsworth himself gave up pretty quick once he was on his own.”

Val nodded. “Figures. Big an’ bad with backup but a pure yeller-belly when he’s on his own. Go on.”

“Well, I got him into the airlock, made him ditch his guns, then locked him in a room. Showed him holos of Jak & Sarma, and got him to accept what he’d done. Tied him up and hung him from the ceiling by his wrists. Showed him Sarma’s log message, then I went to work on his mind. Lit a plasma cutter…”

“Uh… That sounds kinda nasty. What in all the hells did ya do with that?”

“Um… mostly I just warmed him up with it – it never touched him. Told him about what would happen if it did, though, got very graphic and let him get good and scared. Told him I was going to start, got the cutter a bit closer so he got hot. Then I pulled out a nitrogen drink stirrer, ran it down his spine and let his mind do the rest. He fainted.

Val’s face was a picture. She could barely contain her laughter. “Is that it? You jus’ scared him a bit? Whatcha so beat up about?”

“Well, that’s not it. When he fainted, he lost his grip on the chain – the fall broke both his wrists and dislocated his shoulders. I knocked him out with an anaesthetic, and put him back in his suit. Then I crippled his radio and threw him out of the airlock about four stazuras from a station. He had about two stazuras of air, with two dislocated shoulders, two broken wrists and Sarma’s log audio for company. Operating any controls would hurt him even more. He also had a pistol, in case he got impatient waiting for the air to run out. I didn’t actually kill him, just marooned him- but I might as well have pulled the trigger myself.”

She looked a little more serious, now. “That might’ve been a mistake right there. You shoulda killed him outright. There’s still a chance he got rescued, an’ if that happened you’re right back where ya started. Only he’d know who you are and you wouldn’t know he’s comin’. Ya can’t do half the job on a thing like that, it’ll bite ya in the ass. I hope for both our sakes ya did that half a job proper.”

Her voice shifted, softer, quieter, soothing almost. Her harsh accent was never going to be Boron-smooth, but it was certainly softer. “But… I gotta say, hotshot – you didn’t do nothin’ to get so upset about. You killed a scumbag that needed some serious killin’, an’ you done plenty o’ that already. This weren’t no different. Only thing is, this time he gave up afore ya killed him. But, ya knew that’s what ya had to do, it’s what ya were goin’ to do right from the very start. Reckon your wife woulda’ been proud of ya. You had ta do somethin’ ya really didn’t wanna do, an’ ya did it anyway in the name o’ justice. If you’d enjoyed it, maybe that’d be different. But you didn’t, did ya? Ya hated it, and the way ya felt afterwards – well, I reckon that does ya credit.”

She got up from the chair she’d been seated in, and leaned over me. “I gotta get somethin’ to eat. I’ll grab somethin’ for ya, but I don’t know if you’re ready ta eat yet. There’s only water in here, so you can go crazy on that – don’ reckon ya got the strength ta get anythin’ stronger. Rest easy, Scott. You ain’t no monster yet.”

For a sezura, she stayed there, just looking into my eyes – then I felt her lips just brush my forehead, and she was gone.

[SOTS]

Next time one of my friends complains of a hangover, I'm showing them this.