(---) Jim (---)
Jim paced back and forth in front of the canteen, fuming. He wanted to scream and shout - but he couldn't even do that. Not properly.
Three years. Three whole fucking years he'd endured so far, playing up the hick slang and rural background to make himself more amenable to the committee - and specifically Win.
Other prisoners might've showed their age more readily, but Jim had been through enough institutions to pick out the people that were too comfortable and too knowledgeable. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, Win was probably the person that had been in the Warrens the longest, which meant she had the most sway and the best ideas on what secrets Jim might be able to use to get out.
This prison was a tough nut to crack. He'd escaped from boxes in hard vacuum, inhospitable bio-zones, and a fully automated one in a machine-run world - and each time, he'd gotten out in under five years. All the new bullshit with Roc was threatening to break his streak. It had started flawlessly - he'd gotten a quick spot on the committee, rose through as a trusted negotiator and welcome-man. Then he put eggs in the black market basket - so he'd be able to get all the tools he needed when the time came for action.
In two weeks, that new, pale-pink, narrow son of a whore had shown up out of nowhere and derailed things. Win - who he was so close to cozying up to - took the pinky under her wing instead. Even worse, he'd just crippled the market muscle - which meant Jim wouldn't be able to leverage his way to what he'd eventually need.
Now, they were off alone, the two of them, taking out their frustration on the rocks. Talking. Taking up what should've been Jim's time to get closer to his ticket to freedom.
Either this Roc was onto Jim's grift, or he was damn lucky. In either case, Jim needed to find a way to get the situation back to his benefit. Cause a divide between Win and the newbie... Or - cause problems between Roc and his little friend.
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||+|| Win ||+||
Throwing people off was a great way to learn who they actually were, under the usual bluster and posturing and plotting and the masks. She had experienced enough of all of that firsthand to fill four lifetimes, but the skills it taught her and her ability to set people off in the right way were invaluable. Was it okay to hate your life, but appreciate what you got out of it?
The man who'd chosen the brilliant fake name of "Rocky" didn't seem like he was going to rate highly in her measure, at first. Her initial interest was just to have a fun time with him - but he'd suprised her in many small bits and pieces, and continued to spurn any advances she made. He was - in his own ways - funny, upstanding, inquisitive, and ill-informed. The man knew next to nothing about the universe.
And that included the planet he was supposedly from.
Win had learned enough to know "pinky" was a derogatory term for the Vuxarins. But when Roc had heard it, he hadn't even flinched. So she tried using it on him - in various conversations they'd had. He hadn't shown a single response, in any of her attempts to get him to react.
Then, he'd disappeared for multiple days, with nary an explanation, after 'secretly' purchasing enough rations to feed a mining group for a week. She wished she'd followed them out into the tunnels then, to figure out what was going on with Roc.
She'd visited the clinic on her own way back in, like she usually did after a multi-day outing. To her surprise, it was a bustle of activity with all manner of harsh wounds on display. Win knew violence and biology well - so she'd been able to pick up on things the other medics hadn't figured out. Yes, there were signs and flashes of savage brutality in the wounds and the breaks - but only flashes. How deep and true the damage was to muscle - how the bones themselves had snapped and fractured and in some cases been pulverized - it showed the man was stronger and tougher than should be possible down in the Warrens. It was more strength - much more - than he'd had when she tested him with an overzealous handshake.
It also showed he was holding himself back. With the level of damage on display, Win knew he could've killed the thugs as easily as he'd broken them. Maybe even more so. The injuries were haphazard - like the man had power, but little skill.
She wanted to know many things. His true name. Where he was really from. How he was so strong, and what he'd been doing when he disappeared for almost a week. But she would take a soft approach. Everyone had secrets here - and she honestly, actually liked Roc. More than that, he was the most interesting person to come through the shaft in a long, long time. She'd ask him everything. As for answers?
She'd settle for the basics.
#
The hot shaft was a place for drawing out tensions and letting anger go. Or getting anger out.
Rocks, warmed over time by geothermal vents, were almost uncomfortably hot, and the geology of this part of Denduram meant the rocks were also harder the hotter they became. The material also had the interesting property of getting darker as it became more durable - which gave good indications of what would and wouldn't give under enough force. So the tunnel acted as both a makeshift steam room and stress reliever. Hit rock as hard as you can, and then let your residual anger melt away.
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She'd decided not to give Reid the full explanation.
"Alright, pinky. You're here to blow off steam. Tell me you're not mad, I don't give a shit. Just use that axe, and smash it into the wall until I tell you to stop."
"But I'm not-"
"Mad. Right. Fine. Sure. Somebody hurt my people, I'd be ready to tear off heads, but you're golden. So, calm boy, just break off a piece of that rock on the wall there, the one that looks black, and I'll call everything good."
Roc looked ready to protest, but stomped his way over to the wall anyway. This would be good. Giving him something he couldn't break - when he expected to - would throw him off enough that Win could jump back in with questions, and hopefully have a productive talk. She twirled the vial in her pocket. No matter which way things went, she would still give it to him.
The pickaxe came down - and groaned in complaint as it cracked into the top of the rock. Win nearly dropped her jaw.
He squared his shoulders, rolled his neck, and let out a roaring shout as he smashed another blow into the rock. A piece the size of Win's tail fell away from the main body.
She knew he had to be strong, but all-god's scales, he was strong.
Another handful of roaring swings saw the entire rock fall away from the wall and onto the tunnel floor in pieces. Win walked over to it, and tried to scrape the side with a finger. Her nail chipped as it moved across the nearly black surface.
"So, are we done?"
Win's plan hadn't quite gone right so far, but she had gotten him to let out some of his frustrations... so it was worth a shot.
"We will be - when you tell me where you're really from, pinky."
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Fozzune Hoimchal watched the message through to the end again, and scratched at the piercings on his left eyebrow.
"Repeat."
He compared the ship in the recording to the half-scrapped mess sitting in front of him. If it weren’t for the graffiti, he may never have found it. The thing was atrociously damaged, cut open, and half of it had already been parted out and sold elsewhere. It was partially luck that the main shell was still around by the time Fozz had reached the recycling plant. This case had already required thorough work, and the challenge it posed made Fozz’s ears burn with excitement.
He returned his attention to the clerk shivering in front of him. “You vouch that this document is accurate – that is, that this scrap was transported here on the BTC Greenrock, out of Denduram?”
The clerk nodded. Fozz raised an eyebrow. “Yes.” The clerk practically shouted the verbal response he needed.
“Thank you.” Fozz answered. Lying to a CCE was an immediate jail sentence, so most people didn’t. Those who tried always forced themselves to seem unnaturally calm. It made it easy to pick out the truth.
"The remains of the Wheathop are now part of an ongoing investigation, and will be transported to a CCE approved holding facility. Once the case is complete, all property may be used as renumeration to damaged parties. If those parties refuse the property, you have the right to reclaim the ship as your own. Do you wish to exercise that right?"
The clerk shook their head. Fozz tilted his head, and got a short "No". He didn't expect the clerk was some sort of criminal mastermind, and didn't want to impose more than he had to.
"Your participation in this investigation is concluded. The Cross Cosmic Enforcement Agency appreciates your cooperation."
Fozz’s helmet snapped into position as his suit’s thrusters shot him through the atmosphere back to his patrol ship. Normally, a case about heritage site boundary violations and simple vandalism would have been lower on his priority list. But Walt was someone he considered a close friend – and a potential future CCE Officer. Probable future officer, really. He couldn't imagine something throwing the man off the officer track.
He’d met Walt during a CCE-sponsored training module for newly awakened worlds. Most at those modules were greedy, small people looking to find better ways to flex power over others. Fozz had kicked nearly all of them out of his group, but Walt was different to his core. He didn’t just apply himself - the man had an unshakable sense of justice. The final test during modules was one of integrity. Either seeing how the baby enforcer would react to finding great, untraceable wealth, or how they’d respond to offers to ‘make deals’ with the CCE trainers themselves. It had an astronomically high failure rate.
Walt had recorded Fozz’s ‘attempted backdoor deal’ and managed to file it in a complaint to his MSS. It was, to his knowledge, the first time a Multi-Sector-Sergeant had shown up to a module in person to greet a trainee. Fozz had grown close with Walt before the test, and after the deception was revealed, they’d gotten over the extra bit of distance and developed a true friendship with one another.
It was a good enough reason to visit Walt’s 'freshly' awakened world, and Fozz had left Earth with a handful of new names in his personal communications files. Earth was a planet with a terrible name, but very promising people. He queued up a live voice recording, like he always did.
“Good news, Walt. That case you sent me had a lead that ended up landing in my lap, so I was able to give it a look earlier than anticipated. The summary so far is that your vandal pilot - or at least his ship - did manage to get to a mining world called Denduram. From there, the ship was sent out to be scrapped. Found it on a dwarf planet’s recycling station, waiting to be melted down. If I’m honest, I think I only got to it in time because all the locals had last week off for a big wedding ceremony."
A line of mid-priority requests rolled over one of his incoming message screens. A new planetary awakening always brought with it a slew of cases. Once the tutorial for Vuxarina started, they'd slow down to the point where Fozz could catch up to things again.
“Anyway, I’ll send you more updates if I have them. I know that site meant a great deal to Sara. Give her my best, and if you have the time, bake her some of those snickerdoodles in my place. Send me some if you have extras. Hope you’re taking care of yourself, too, Walt. I know being in your job isn’t easy, and you probably don’t hear this enough, so good work. I put your case file for the Wheathop pursuit into the curriculum for the next set of training modules. Really good work.”
Fozz’s hand hovered over the end recording button. A picture - a physical thing printed on thin paper - was stuck to the top of his control console. In it, Fozz held his arm around the shoulders of the most incredible woman on Earth. His brain thought of the things he longed to say. 'And.. tell my sweet sunshine she’s a radiant beam in a sea of darkness, and I can’t wait to dance with her again.'
He let out a long sigh - and realized he'd spoken out loud. Fozz blushed hard and cleared his throat.
"Ignore that - Just... just tell her I miss her.”