Mark “Coop” Cooper
Location: Savannah City, New Savannah, United Commonwealth of Colonies
“Is that your story?” The detective said from across the solid metal table.
Coop gave the man a once over and tried not to laugh. The man was trying to intimidate Coop into saying something. What that something was, Coop had no idea, but the detective wasn’t the person to do it. The guy was well on his way to a beer gut, about thirty centimeters shorter, and had a mustache that looked like it belonged in a porno. The more Coop thought about it, the more he wondered why anyone would grow facial hair on New Savannah. Having your face sweat profusely didn’t seem like a smart idea.
“That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.” Coop looked over his shoulder at GYSGT Cunningham. The detective might not be intimidating, but his former Basic instructor made up for that. She hadn’t said a word during the whole interrogation.
The cops who’d arrived at the Oasis after the shooting said it was a debrief, but Coop knew the difference. This was definitely an interrogation, and the detective proved it a second later when he burst out of his chair and started screaming.
“Do you expect me to believe that shit?! Are you seriously going to sit there and tell me that your mission was blown because one of the whores recognized you from back home on Earth, kicked you over a railing, and then you got in a shootout with the establishment’s security.” Spittle flew as the man yelled, and some of it stuck to the mustache.
Coop tried not to roll his eyes as the man continued to fume. Coop could feel the GYSGT’s cold gaze on his back, and hoped that she believed him. He’d explained exactly what happened and left nothing out.
“If you don’t trust me…fine,” Coop cut in when the detective’s face was red from exertion and he needed to draw a breath. “Just check the building’s camera footage. That should clear everything up, and for the love of god, say it don’t spray it.”
Coop thought that would give the detective another conniption, but it did just the opposite.
“The business that you shot up doesn’t have cameras, and even if they did, we would need a warrant to obtain them. As police officers we have rules, unlike whatever the hell you are.”
Coop had to give the overweight man that point. The cop didn’t know who Coop was. All he knew was that their captain had received a call from someone high in their own government that stated Coop was not to be charged with anything. That was great for Coop, but that didn’t mean the detective wasn’t going to hold him and try to milk him for information before he was released.
Coop was about to respond when the GYSGT beat him to it. “That’s suspicious.” The two words seemed to startle the detective. Cunningham had just been standing there silently in the corner, and he’d forgotten she was there. “This isn’t a backwater planet right after terraforming. There is no reason a business as profitable as the Oasis claims itself to be should not have some type of surveillance on the premises.”
“It doesn’t matter…”
“Of course it matters,” she cut the detective off. “The absence of something sometimes indicates something in itself. In our case, the absence of surveillance means that the Oasis didn’t want their activities captured and stored.”
“That may be the case.” The detective cooled down a bit and acknowledged the point. “But there is nothing we can do about it. The Oasis has the proper permits, is licensed as a leisurely club, and isn’t breaking any laws. Even the armed security on the premises are all licensed and on the up and up. They were responding to a disturbance, a disturbance they said your man started.”
“I didn’t start it,” Coop stated for the thousandth time. “She started it by kicking me over the railing, and some dude shot my friend with a laser pistol. Maybe we should look into that a little.”
Both the GYSGT and detective stopped their conversation and look at Coop with the same expression. That expression clear told him to shut the fuck up.
Eventually they did figure it out. Cunningham promised that they would remain available for questioning, but since the planetary brass decided no charges were being levied, Coop was free to go.
“You know where to find me.” Coop gave the man one last poke as he exited the “debrief” room.
The man sneered back but didn’t reply. A car was waiting for them at the front of the local precinct, and it took them back to the base via a roundabout way. Their path could be backtracked through the satellites watching overhead, but Coop was pretty sure the GYSGT was making sure they didn’t have a tail. After all, no one other than the security guards had been apprehended at the scene.
They passed through the gate without incident and went directly to the HQ building. Coop wanted to go see Mike at the base hospital, but the GYSGT wasn’t having any of it. She escorted him inside and through several secure areas. It took a moment until Coop knew where they were headed.
“Oh come on, Gunney. I just got finished with one of these,” Coop complained as she opened another door to find the SGM and S2 LCDR sitting there waiting for him.
“Sit,” the SGM stated, and Coop obeyed. “Tell us what happened and don’t fuck around.”
Coop didn’t even dream of playing with the SGM, and he told the story. It just happened to be the same story he told the local cops because that was the truth.
“Her name is Hailey Armstrong. We grew up together in the Toronto-Buffalo-Cleveland-Detroit Metropolis back on Earth. She was kind of my girlfriend. I didn’t expect in a million years to ever run into her again.”
The SGM and LCDR remained silent, but the GYSGT couldn’t help but chuckle. “You need to keep it in your pants Cooper. That thing between your legs keeps getting you in trouble.”
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
The LCDR ignored the GYSGT and tapped away on her PAD. “Is this her?” She showed Coop the screen.
“No.” The woman on the screen was big, had a scar, and was nowhere near as beautiful as Hailey.
“So this is her.” The LCDR swiped and a second image came into focus.
Unlike the first image, this one was taken from a distance and didn’t grab facial features well. On top of that, the person was wearing sunglasses and a hat. That didn’t leave Coop much to work with, but he scrutinized the picture closely.
“I think that is her. She’s changed since the PHA. She’s fifteen centimeters taller, probably has another fifteen-to-twenty kilos on her, and she kicks like a fucking mule.” Coop absentmindedly rubbed his chest. “She’s got bigger titties…I mean…she’s had breast enhancements, but I’d say that’s her.” Coop slid the PAD back to the LCDR.
The LCDR gave the SGM a nod and left the room. That left Coop alone with those in his chain of command. These were the people that could really ruin his day.
“I’m not going to tell you congratulations, Sergeant. Your primary objective was to infiltrate the establishment and gather intelligence. You got made, and worse, got into a gunfight with local security, so you failed your mission.” The SGM deadpanned, which hit Coop harder than he thought it would. “But we’re infantrymen, Sergeant. We make do with what we’re given and we adapt and overcome. You failed your initial mission, but you’ve gained some useful intelligence while presenting us with an unforeseen opportunity.”
“What?” Coop stared at the SGM in confusion. He’d expected the ass chewing to continue.
“The S2 was able to pick through all of the legal loopholes and identified that the Oasis is a franchise of a subsidiary, of another subsidiary, of an LLC, that is a child company owned by a parent company that was inherited by the son of the son-in-law of Madame Putinski herself.” The SGM seemed impressed at that fact.
“What?” Coop repeated, sounding even stupider in his own ears.
The GYSGT sighed from behind Coop, and the SGM just shook his head. “Madame Putinski has been under investigation by the Commonwealth for close to seventy years for everything from illegal drug synthesis, to distribution, to racketeering, prostitution, and even murder. The first photo the Lieutenant Commander showed you was for the recently identified manager of the Oasis, and we believe, Putinski crime family boss of Savannah City, or even the whole planet.” The SGM stopped to let the gravity of the situation set in. “The second photo is of a still unidentified underling in the organization’s Asset Protection department.”
“You mean like shoplifting.” Coop remembered the term from the mega stores that his father got enough money to go to once every five years or so.
“I mean they protect the organization’s assets. That could be laundered money, drug houses, illegal labs, or in our case prostitutes.” The SGM made a flick and Hailey’s disguised photo floated in the air in front of them.
“I might be wrong here, but last time I checked isn’t prostitution legal on New Savannah?” Coop asked.
He wasn’t being completely truthful. He knew prostitution was legal on the planet. It was something he checked on every new planet he arrived on. Laws concerning mankind’s oldest profession were something handled down at the planetary level. The Commonwealth didn’t hold any sway over it aside from taxation. On most worlds it was legal as long as the business was registered, the workers were routinely tested and cleared by a medical professional, and they paid their taxes. The profession tended to be illegal on planets with a strong religious connection. Coop knew it was illegal in the Papal States, Maccabee Alliance, New Caliphate, and a dozen or so other planets scattered throughout Commonwealth space, but they tended to be the exception, not the rule.
Since it was legal on New Savannah, Coop wondered what the planetary authorities, or even the Commonwealth, wanted with Hailey.
“It is legal, but the Putinski’s frequently use legitimate businesses to funnel money from other less reputable sources. Due to the incident, which we have you to thank for, the Commonwealth’s forensic accountants are going through Oasis’ books. Anything out of the ordinary and they’ll seize the assets, arrest the workers, and follow the money trail. In this regard, your little fight could have cracked open a big case for them.” The SGM finally cracked a smile. It was a small one, but it was still one nonetheless.
“So,” Coop leaned back and relaxed a little, “I guess you could say I did a good job.”
“Fuck no!” the GYSGT shouted, and Coop almost fell out of his chair. “You failed in your mission. Falling right into a positive situation doesn’t reflect on you more than the circumstances. Getting lucky doesn’t make you a good soldier, Cooper.”
Coop thought. It had been lucky that he’d been kicked over the railing by Hailey. That wasn’t what he thought at the moment, but after seeing how Mike got barbequed by whoever was in that room, Coop realized luck played a big part in staying alive in this line of work.
“Regardless of how you landed in this situation,” the SGM regained control of the conversation, “we are going to exploit the opportunity. I’m sending you back to the Oasis to make contact with Hailey Armstrong. We want you to gain any intel she may have and relay it to us.”
“Umm…how do I put this so I don’t get yelled at,” Coop wondered out loud. “I know Hailey. She’s loyal. She’s not going to turn on anyone, so trying to gain intel on the Putinski’s is a waste of time.” Coop expected the GYSGT to come down on him, but she didn’t. She and the SGM just waited expectantly for him to continue. “I suggest we stay in our lane. The SRRT is here to get the people that orchestrated and carried out the terrorist attack. I should pursue that avenue of intelligence.”
The SGM and GYSGT shared a quick look and nodded. “Proceed at your discretion, Sergeant.” The SGM passed Coop a new PAD. “Give her this to make contact.”
Thirty minutes later he was standing back in front of the Oasis, and an angry security guard, who Coop recognized as one of the ones that was shooting at him a few hours ago, looked to be itching to draw his weapon and finish the job.
“For the last time I don’t know who the fuck this Hailey is.” Despite his anger, the guard was sticking to the company line.
They’d been going back and forth for a couple of minutes, and the guy wasn’t budging on letting Coop in. “Fine!” Coop sighed. “Just give her this and tell her to call me.” Coop extended the PAD.
“I’m not taking that.” The guard made no motion to take it.
“For fuck’s sake,” Coop took out a slip of polyplast and scrolled a number on it. Coop’s barely legible handwriting straightened to form an easily identifiable call number. “Tell Hailey to call me on this number. I just want to talk, and I think it can be in both of our best interests. Tell her this is no bullshit.”
No bullshit held special meaning to Coop and Hailey. It went all the way back to their time in the PHA. On top of fucking each other, they liked to fuck with each other to the point it was hard to tell what was real and what was a prank. Saying “no bullshit” was their code to tell the other person they weren’t screwing around. Coop hoped that would get the point across to her.
“Seriously,” Coop pressed the point. “Tell her this is no bullshit. Tell her those exact words…no bullshit.” Coop realized he might sound a little crazy, but if this was the only way he was going to get to her, then he didn’t want some low-level grunt fucking it up.
The guard in question didn’t say anything. He didn’t confirm or deny Hailey presence. He just grabbed the polyplast slip and told Coop to fuck off.
It had been an interesting last few days, but the SGM wasn’t letting up on their SSRT training. Since the mission against the terrorists was a part success-part failure, he’d set up some more conventional training exercises for them to partake in.
Coop was fine with that. He’d finally be getting to put his V4 through its paces. Any more cloak and dagger shit could wait until later. Coop wanted to get back to what he was good at: blowing shit up in a big suit of armor. He enjoyed being the baddest motherfucker on the battlefield.