《Murder on the Base》 Murder on the Base 31 - Bad Karma (Stall # 3 Home of # 2) Duval Dirtbag Murder on the Base Ch 31 - Bad Karma (Stall # 3 Home of # 2) Michael¡¯s day began uneventfully. He checked all the S¡¯s (Shit, Shower and Shave) off of his morning routine in the community bathroom of the barracks he shared with his Pack. It was amusing to him that he felt so comfortable showering with and audibly using the bathroom around the women of the Pack, but not Bill. With Bill, he still preferred to keep his privacy. Michael¡¯s father would have liked for people to believe that he never even had to use the restroom. He would have preferred to have had a soundproof, odor proof vault where he could do his private business. Michael tried to emulate that as much as possible. It was difficult, to be sure, to do so in college with the community bathrooms in the dorm. He¡¯d tried to go when no one else was in there, or they were showering so at least there was a muffling of his noises. However, one day the unspoken rules were written on the stall wall. Who knows what instrument was used, but in clear handmade scratchings the wall read, ¡°STALL # 3 HOME OF # 2¡±. Well, there it is, Michael thought. But here, on base, things were different. The Rakiri, when walking around doing their daily duties, wore the Shil¡¯vati standard Army Combat Uniform and, to Michael, blended in with his idea of what officers in the military looked like. However, in the bathroom, with their clothes off, they were human-sized but dog-shaped enough that he could block off their sentience for just long enough to get his business done. I mean, Ssgt Remington passing by me with a bright red rocket, giving a casual ¡°Good morning¡± was jarring; but that was the cost of doing business, Michael figured. Michael had done lots of naked things in front of his pets in the past, it couldn¡¯t be helped. Amongst dogs and babies, privacy was not a shared value. Michael took his turn. Bill took his. They got their business done in shifts and both in time to get to work, mostly. Today, Bill was dragging. ¡°Bro, we gotta get moving.¡± Michael urged Bill. Bill rolled grumpily. ¡°Ok dude, I don¡¯t know what the repercussions for not going to duty are exactly, but-¡° Bill cut him off in a pillow-muffled growl, ¡°I do.¡± He turned his head so as to be heard better. ¡°It¡¯s fine. I¡¯ll deal with the consequences. See you later, dude.¡± ¡°See ya,¡± Michael saluted sloppily and left the barracks. *** ¡°So what¡¯s going on with you two and Bill?¡± Linnet asked as she, Harley and Fala were getting ready in the community bathroom. ¡°I thought things were going well and then,¡± she cracked the door to make sure Bill wasn¡¯t also on his way to the bathroom but still spoke in a more hushed tone. ¡°Then poof, you all aren¡¯t, uh, commingling as it were.¡± Harley mumbled through toothpaste-foamed teeth, ¡°Fala¡¯s over it.¡± Linnet applied deodorant powder to herself and scoffed, ¡°Fala¡¯s over it?¡± Fala flushed the toilet in reply. She came out of the stall looking at Linnet through heavy lids, ¡°Do you remember us moving Bill¡¯s stuff to the base?¡± Linnet stood in front of the mirror, in line with the other two Rakiri. ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°Do you remember the disproportionate number of boxes that Bill had?¡± Fala began to wash her hands. ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°What does that tell you about a person?¡± Fala asked rhetorically. Linnet shrugged her shoulders and tilted her head, ¡°I don¡¯t know, he¡¯s got a lot of stuff? He¡¯s older so he¡¯s got more stuff?¡± Fala turned from washing her hands to look directly at Linnet. ¡°Recall that I am a Rakiri Noble. I come from a House humbled by the Shil¡¯vati invasion. Yet, I do not get to carry my banner. I have you all with me, but you¡¯re not my subjects.¡± Harley and Linnet lowered their heads in practiced deference. ¡°Per se.¡± ¡°What does that have to do with Bill?¡± Linnet pursued. ¡°A man like Bill,¡± Fala said with an aristocratic air, ¡°who cannot let go of his ¡®stuff¡¯ cannot let go of his past. He¡¯s living in the past.¡± She dried her hands and straightened her uniform into the proper place. ¡°A man who is living in the past will not be able to see the possible futures he could have.¡± Linnet asked skeptically, ¡°Are you saying that he¡¯s below you?¡± Fala grumbled audibly, ¡°Not that, but I don¡¯t see someone of my status having an ongoing relationship with a man who lives in the past is all.¡± ¡°But he didn¡¯t do anything?¡± ¡°He doesn¡¯t have to do anything. He just is.¡± Linnet flattened her expression at Fala. If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Fala rolled her eyes at Linnet. ¡°Don¡¯t look at me like that! You ought to take a good hard look at where you think you and that Michael will end up before you keep on cavorting with him.¡± Linnet squinted at Fala then at herself in the mirror. Her expression softened. She chuffed air through her nose and walked out of the bathroom with the other Rakiri women. *** It was still cool in the morning, which was quickly making it Michael¡¯s favorite time of the day. The afternoons got oppressively hot, and who could stand to stay awake long enough for it to get cool in the evening? He could smell the saltwater of the St. John¡¯s, the intercoastal, and the Atlantic beyond that. It had taken him a year to get used to the heat. When he¡¯d first moved to Florida, stepping outside of his house would cause him to be instantly drenched with sweat. An aura of moisture enveloped him until he got inside, where it was usually frigid enough that some people brought light sweaters to wear at work. Michael had anticipated seeing Drill Sergeants marching Privates along the inside border of the base¡¯s walls, like one might see in military movies. He knew it happened sometime, but it was much more likely to happen earlier in the morning than he¡¯d had to go to work. That was another college memory that popped in his head, being awoken by the ROTC some mornings when they¡¯d march and yell when passing his dorm room window. A lot of memories on this walk, Michael thought, is this what it means when people take a walk to clear their heads? The practicality of that notion wasn¡¯t something that Michael had experienced for himself. Walking was for the birds. Well, flying was, but¡­like, it¡¯s an expression, ok Brain? He fussed at himself. His internal struggle was halted when he saw the gathering happening at the building that housed his office. The structure held a handful of administrative offices; though it had the same metallic purple brick-like architecture of most things Shil¡¯vati, Michael had come to think of it as a tape dispenser. A lot of red tape seemed to be doled out from his building. That was metaphorical tape of course, actual tape was holding the doors to the building closed. When that was blocked, he changed tack and headed to where the other folks were going. He had a feeling he wasn¡¯t welcome but no one seemed to notice him. There were four or five Shil¡¯vati officers standing around another officer who was on the ground. Amongst them was Joph¡¯rena. Michael didn¡¯t have to get too close to the body on the ground to know that that poor soul was dead. It didn¡¯t take a rocket surgeon to figure that out. For some reason, this scene reminded Michael of his father. Watching someone you love go from a living being to not in a period of a few short months is jarring. Seeing a dead body wasn¡¯t yet a natural part of his life. He¡¯d seen several people die firsthand, but they were gone in a flash. He¡¯d never watched the clean up. With his father, it was six months of clean up; professionals surrounded his body, trying to force it to work for its best interests. Cancer doesn¡¯t care. Cancer cares about Cancer. He thought about how his mother would recall stories regarding his father¡¯s treatment for him; Michael was only fifteen at the time and too naive to etch the details into his brain. However, his mother reasoned that the medical professionals who treated Michael¡¯s father knew they were just going through the motions. Similarly, there was no saving this poor dead Shil¡¯vati. Dead on an alien planet. Dead surrounded by family. Death wasn¡¯t something that Michael could get himself to celebrate. Surely some of Earth¡¯s people would be happy to hear that a Shil¡¯vati invader had perished. Michael disagreed. None of the Shil¡¯vati, as individuals, deserved random death in a back alley. Michael watched numbly as Joph¡¯rena grabbed the hilt of a knife that stuck out from the body. It didn¡¯t come out cleanly. She had to ask another officer to put a boot near where the tip was buried to keep the body steady. She wrenched the knife back and forth a bit before giving it the final tug that released it. Now freed from the body, Joph¡¯rena thanked the officer who¡¯d helped her and looked around at the other officers around her. It was then that she looked beyond them to see Michael. He felt his guts gird up inside of him when their eyes met. I didn¡¯t do this! Why do I feel like I need to defend myself? Or is that still my gut reaction when Joph¡¯rena looks at me? His stirring continued as she was handed a plastic bag to contain the weapon. Closing it, she walked toward Michael. The blood had mostly dried on the blade, but some that had been pooling was disturbed when she¡¯d forcibly removed it. That blood smeared the sides of the bag. Contained, Joph¡¯rena held the blade up and looked at the hilt. ¡°Hello there, Michael.¡± She held the knife, hilt side forward toward him. ¡°This symbol mean anything to you?¡± She fingered the end cap. Michael frowned at her but looked anyway. ¡°It looks like a snowflake to me.¡± ¡°Mean anything?¡± Michael¡¯s eyes widened, ¡°Not a clue.¡± He held his hands up as if to further distance himself from an obvious murder weapon. ¡°Calm down big guy,¡± Joph¡¯rena eased placatingly, ¡°I know you didn¡¯t do this.¡± Suddenly offended by her words and her tone, Michael answered curtly with a single word, ¡°Neat.¡± She looked at the snowflake symbol curiously, ¡°You don¡¯t have the strength to dig a knife like this into bone.¡± ¡°Thanks.¡± Michael replied flatly. ¡°I don¡¯t even know what kind of knife that is. Looks kinda like the kind of thing Rambo had, but it¡¯s smaller.¡± Joph¡¯rena tweaked her tusk, ¡°Rambo?¡± ¡°It¡¯s a movie. Series of movies.¡± He corrected himself, ¡°Well, maybe I¡¯m thinking of Crocodile Dundee.¡± ¡°Ok Movie Man, your expertise here has been noted.¡± Jophrena brushed him off, ¡°We¡¯re going to be looking around and inside your office building today. Looks like you get the day off.¡± Michael watched with morbid curiosity as two of the officers lifted the body and the other two held open a large bag; they performed a well-choreographed dance of dead body removal behind Joph¡¯rena. ¡°Yeah, thanks for that, I guess.¡± Joph¡¯rena turned away from Michael to follow the other officers. More questions lurked in his mind, but he didn¡¯t feel like pushing his luck; she didn¡¯t think it was him, which was enough for him. There was a shiny, slick spot where the officer¡¯s body had lain. Michael turned away from the scene and started walking back to the barracks. His mind went back to his father. In his mind¡¯s eye, he remembered being told that if he had any last words for his father, he needed to go tell him now. Dad can probably still hear you. Michael was 15. He didn¡¯t have any last words to say. He didn¡¯t have any first words. He had even fewer words when he saw his father for the last time. He¡¯d counted how many tubes were going into his father¡¯s still, swollen body. He¡¯d promised himself at the time to remember. He didn¡¯t now. Shame colored his face as he walked. Michael had put his fathers hand into his own. They were turgid with fluid; heavy but lifeless. Memory Michael¡¯s young eyes filled with tears. The finality of death was not something he was ready for at the time; as if I¡¯m ready for it yet now, he thought in rueful reflection as tears fell freely from his cheeks now. Young Michael had been hopeful that his father would have recovered from his illness: renal cancer. ¡°I mean, we¡¯ve all got two kidneys, right?¡± Young Michael had reasoned when his mother had told him the diagnosis. His innocent belief had kept her from telling him that it was terminal. She¡¯d prayed, perhaps, that if he¡¯d had hope, maybe there was hope. There was not. Having confronted death one more time, Michael mourned his father. Mourned this murdered Shil¡¯vati officer. Mourned for their family, wherever they were. Taking a deep breath, Michael wiped his eyes with the collar of his shirt and stepped back into the barracks. He sniffled sharply before he opened his and Bill¡¯s door. Bill had sat up in his bed; he¡¯d leaned forward to stretch his back. He straightened up and turned his head as far as he could in one direction then turned his head in the opposite saying to Michael, ¡°Who knew a threesome could leave you with such a crick in the neck?¡± ¡°Fuck me.¡± Michael buried his face in his hands and put his stuff down on his bed. Bill snickered, ¡°Nah, I¡¯m good.¡± He gingerly rolled his shoulders forward and backward. ¡°What¡¯s up? Why aren¡¯t you in the office?¡± Michael sat down with his legs crossed on his bed. ¡°Someone was killed behind our office.¡± ¡°Do you know who?¡± Michael shrugged, ¡°No, no one we¡¯ve talked to. Nothing too unique that I could see from what I saw that would help me identify them.¡± Bill¡¯s interest was piqued, ¡°So you saw the body. Anything else?¡± ¡°Meh,¡± Michael shuffled through his work bag and grabbed his phone, ¡°there was a knife stuck pretty good into their neck.¡± ¡°What kind of knife?¡± ¡°Fuck if I know, like, you remember Crocodile Dundee?¡± Bill drawled into a caricature, ¡°That¡¯s nawt a knoyfe.¡± ¡°Yeah, like, but, smaller?¡± Michael reckoned. ¡°So a KBAR.¡± Bill confirmed. ¡°Sure.¡± Michael agreed unknowingly, ¡°it had a snowflake on the hilt.¡± Bill straightened up, ¡°A snowflake?¡± ¡°Yeah, I mean, I guess it wasn¡¯t the hilt. It was like, the ¡®buttcap¡¯?¡± ¡°The pommel.¡± ¡°Yeah, sure.¡± Michael answered without looking up from his bag. ¡°You sure it was a snowflake? How do you know it was a snowflake? Did it have like, points to it?¡± ¡°Yeah, like, six or eight, I don¡¯t know.¡± Bill asked as serious as death, ¡°Was it six? Or was it eight?¡± Michael shrugged until he saw the look on Bill¡¯s face, ¡°I really don¡¯t know.¡± Bill grabbed his phone and dialed up an image. He thrust his phone out to Michael. ¡°Did it look like this?¡± Michael took the phone from Bill and made sure his glasses were on straight. What he saw didn¡¯t look like a snowflake at all. It looked more like a sun with eight rays coming out of it. Michael admitted, ¡°Yeah, it looked a lot like that.¡± Looking up, he asked, ¡°How did you know?¡± ¡°Bad Karma.¡± Bill named aloud. ¡°That the name of the symbol?¡± Bill looked Michael in the eye, ¡°No, the symbol is the sun on the Filipino flag. Bad Karma is what I called my KBAR.¡± Murder on the Base Ch 32 - Where is it? (鈥楰iri Lover) Duval Dirtbag Murder on the Base Ch 32 - Where is it? (¡®Kiri Lover) Michael stormed into the room that he shared with Bill. ¡°The fuck! Did you fucking kill some fucking Shil¡¯vati last night?¡± ¡°No,¡± Bill rebutted, ¡°but I fucked some fucking Rakiri.¡± Michael¡¯s exasperation did not decline, ¡°Ok humblebrag, but what¡¯s your fucking knife doing in a fucking Shil¡¯vati patrolwoman¡¯s fucking neck!?¡± ¡°I have no idea.¡± Bill was not to be bullied, ¡°and before you go and blow a gasket, let me go check my storage.¡± Michael scratched his head, thinking about the storage. It was stationed in another building on the far northern end of the base. ¡°Do you know where to even look?" Bill put his hands on his hips, ¡°I have a fair idea.¡± Michael¡¯s hands melted down the side of his face in continued dismay, ¡°You have so much shit.¡± ¡°I do. But I know where it all is.¡± Bill said with confidence. Michael waved his hands in a northerly direction, ¡°Then by all means, let''s go check. We¡¯re not going to work.¡± Bill twisted his body in the direction Michael was pointing. ¡°Ok. Let''s go then.¡± Bill and Michael headed toward the storage facility like the Duke Boys going off on another adventure though their pace slackened rapidly. Bill would like to say that the speed of their pursuit curtailed because they didn¡¯t want to be suspicious. Michael would admit that they quickly ran out of speed. No matter the reasons, intentions, or realities of their travel, they did arrive, though not in the speedy manner that they¡¯d set off. Bill got to his particular unit and put his hand up to the biometric scanner to unlock it. ¡°This seems like overkill for a lot of your shit.¡± Michael commented. Bill held his hand to his chest, ¡°These are my precious memories, keepsakes, and tchotchkes.¡± When the door opened, he proceeded to unceremoniously shove a pile of boxes out of his way with a foot. He stepped further in, beyond what he knew weren¡¯t where the suspected weapon would be. He came upon a stack of munitions consisting of swords, sabers and rifles packed in a pyramid whose peak touched the corner of the storage unit. Bill knelt down and found an empty sheath. Michael saw that embossed in the leather, the sun that he had mistakenly identified as a snowflake. Three stars surrounded the sun, two toward the hilt and one toward the tip. ¡°What¡¯s all that about?¡± ¡°You know I¡¯m asian. Though the way most white folks around here think I might as well go with the flow and say I¡¯m Mexican.¡± He traced the rays of the embossed sun with his thumb as he spoke. ¡°I did write a lot of essays in school.¡± Smiling, he looked up at Michael for a second. ¡°I wrote my Ese in Chicago. I wrote my Ese in Oakland. I wrote my Ese in Miami.¡± ¡°Woof. Yes, I am aware.¡± Michael continued, ¡°This symbol, I thought it was a snowflake. You say it¡¯s a sun. What is it?¡± Bill scooted the ends of the weapons that were on the floor to see if it had fallen down under something in the move. ¡°It¡¯s on the flag of the Philippines. It¡¯s got eight rays to represent the provinces and this has the three stars to represent the island groups.¡± He shrugged, ¡°I get it, but it¡¯s mostly from my mom. She¡¯s from there and she¡¯s kind of a big deal in the Filipino community in Daytona.¡± Michael let that sink in a moment. ¡°Where is my goddamn knife?¡± Bill asked his storage unit. Michael put his hands in his pockets, ¡°It¡¯s with Joph¡¯rena at this point.¡± Bill huffed, ¡°Fuck.¡± ¡°I know right?¡± Michael¡¯s ill ease with Joph¡¯rena was somewhat abated, but he didn¡¯t like what this looked like for Bill, ¡°Fuck.¡± ¡°Fuck fuck fuck.¡± Michael decided to take a running go at another angle, ¡°But you were with Fala last night. I know with Fala, I assume with Harley too. They could vouch for you.¡± Bill moved to another unlikely candidate for a KBAR hiding place in his storage. ¡°Yeah, but we ended on kinda shitty terms.¡± ¡°Shitty terms?¡± ¡°Yeah, they kinda kicked me out.¡± Michael grunted, ¡°Huh?¡± Bill turned to Michael, ¡°They said that I took advantage of them.¡± Michael was confused, ¡°How could you take advantage of them?¡± Bill reiterated, ¡°That¡¯s what I said!¡± Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon. Michael pointed to one side and then the other, making token space of the two sides of this equation, ¡°You¡¯re like half of their size.¡± He stayed on the one side, ¡°They are fucking wolves¨Cwolf peoples.¡± He corrected himself mid statement, then pointed in Bill¡¯s direction then to himself, ¡°You¡¯re half my size.¡± Bill pointed out his military experience, ¡°Ok, ya fat bastard, that means nothing. I¡¯ve taken out dudes twice my size and four times as ugly. I could take down a Shil.¡± Michael backed up a bit, ¡°Alright, but you¡¯re saying that you didn¡¯t and you¡¯re saying that the girls in the pack aren¡¯t going to be a helpful alibi.¡± ¡°Right.¡± Bill slapped the leather knife holster against his thigh. ¡°Well fuck.¡± ¡°Right. Fuck.¡± Bill felt himself going deeper into the shit. Michael could see Bill¡¯s spirit flagging, ¡°Well, no one has actually accused you.¡± ¡°But it doesn¡¯t look good.¡± Bill admitted. Michael quietly responded, ¡°No.¡± Bill thought further, ¡°But who could have done it?¡± Michael rolled his eyes and strummed his fingers along a row of DVDs in a box near him. ¡°Any of the hulking orc women on base.¡± Bill looked around with an ounce of hope, ¡°Probably.¡± Michael stuck his head outside of the storage unit to see if anyone else was around before he closed the door slightly and turned to Bill, ¡°You know, Joph¡¯rena thinks there¡¯s a spy or a mole or whatever you wanna call them here in base. I think it¡¯s actually why she¡¯s here.¡± Bill had no response. His face was blank. Michael offered, ¡°Maybe it¡¯s something that we can help with.¡± He pointed at the leather sheath Bill was holding, ¡°maybe you could give that to Joph¡¯rena and they could do some kind of alien forensics and-¡± ¡°Fuck that.¡± Bill stuffed the leather handful into his pants. ¡°This shit is staying with me.¡± ¡°Um, is that helping your case?¡± ¡°I¡¯m not going to be admitting guilt any time soon.¡± ¡°Understood, but I don¡¯t know that we can¡¯t trust Joph¡¯rena; I mean, she ruled me out immediately.¡± Michael suggested. ¡°Yeah, you¡¯re too much of a pussy to kill anyone.¡± Michael scrunched his face, ¡°That¡¯s not what I meant.¡± ¡°It¡¯s what she meant.¡± Michael didn¡¯t have anything to say in response to that. *** By the time the office opened up for business, word of a Human knife being used to kill a Shil¡¯vati had permeated the entirety of the base. Interviews did not go well thereafter. Michael recalled some of the comments with the Pack at the end of the week. ¡°I ain¡¯t sayin¡¯ shit to a couple of murderers!¡± ¡°Fuck you fat pink pieces of shit!¡± ¡°Good luck sleeping, Pink Dicks.¡± Michael became used to the office door slamming in their faces. The pressure was also applied to the Pack, as they shared in the barracks. ¡°Keep up, ¡®Kiri!¡± Harley recalled someone in the shop saying. Ssgt Remington reported that after he¡¯d dropped his omnipad when someone knocked into him as they passed, ¡°Don¡¯t fuck up like Fuzzball here.¡± Linnet overheard someone at chow exclaim, ¡°Ugh, I¡¯ve got a ¡®Kiri hair in my mouth.¡± Bel¡¯a was changing a tire and asked a Shil in her pod to hand her some odd tool and they called over across the garage that ¡°Shit-for-Breath over here needs some help¡±. Finley said that Shil¡¯vati officers had openly told him not to drop the boxes he was filing away in the evidence locker with all his shaking. He shook and blinked like a slot machine, ¡°¡®You Palsy Rat¡¯ they said to me.¡± ¡°Fuck¡± Michael breathed, ¡°I¡¯m sorry to have gotten you all into this.¡± Bill stewed, ¡°You all know I didn¡¯t do this.¡± Fala, who¡¯d seen fewer patients than usual during the week, had to admit that it was odd timing, ¡°I know we upset you, but we can¡¯t imagine that you were that upset.¡± Harley followed, ¡°Not upset enough to kill.¡± ¡°It sucks being rejected,¡± Bill conceded, ¡°but I¡¯m not twisted enough to kill someone else because I was upset.¡± ¡°That¡¯s some high grade projection.¡± Michael chimed. Ssgt Remington opined, ¡°That said though, it is suspect that your knife was used in the murder.¡± ¡°Do you not keep an eye on your munitions?¡± Finley questioned blinkingly, ¡°Are they not kept in a regulation weapon safe?¡± ¡°No,¡± Bill admitted, ¡°I do have trigger locks on everything.¡± He thought back to his storage unit as it stood, ¡°and ammo is stored separately, with me.¡± Michael exclaimed, ¡°You¡¯ve got ammunition in our room?!¡± Bill defended himself. ¡°I can¡¯t keep them together and I¡¯m not keeping it where I can¡¯t keep an eye on it.¡± ¡°Besides,¡± Ssgt Remington interjected, ¡°kinetic munitions are basically useless on a Shil¡¯vati base.¡± ¡°You say, as someone lays dead from a melee weapon.¡± Linnet had her doubts. Ssgt Remington shrugged, ¡°Extenuating circumstances.¡± Michael asked, trying to rally the troops, ¡°We all agree that I didn¡¯t do it.¡± Nods all around. ¡°We all agree that Bill didn¡¯t do it.¡± The response there was less strong there. Bill implored them with a forlorn look. Bel¡¯a nudged at Finley, the ticking holdout, who eventually acquiesced when everyone else¡¯s eyes were on him. ¡°And we all agree that none of us did it.¡± There was a unanimous nodding at that statement. ¡°Then we¡¯ve got to work together to figure out who it could have been. The Pack¡¯s reputation depends on it.¡± ¡°Still, even if we did solve this mystery, the unveiling of the speciesism on base is disturbing.¡± Fala buried her eyes in her paws. Harley and Bel¡¯a came to her side. Michael didn¡¯t know what to say. ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s troublesome for sure.¡± As a white male, the epitome of privilege up until the invasion, what could he say? He found himself the holder of different privileges in this new world. As a male, he still had certain cach¨¦ within mixed company, though it wasn¡¯t as much authority now that the mostly female Shil¡¯vati were here. And in this scenario, he couldn¡¯t imagine anyone who didn¡¯t love dogs. I mean, sure, they were a lot of work; but he¡¯d not seen any of the problems out of the Rakiri that he¡¯d experienced owning dogs. They didn¡¯t bark all night. They cleaned up after themselves as well if not better than other species that he¡¯d met and better than most people. The terrible, unjustified things people could say just to feel superior to others. Ridiculous, Michael thought, the Rakiri have shown me more care, appreciation and love than anyone, Humans included. But I wouldn¡¯t have gotten this family without the Shil¡¯vati invasion. What a mess. Conditions on base would not get better any time soon. Murder on the Base Ch 33 - Back to the Office (Inside Baseball) Duval Dirtbag Murder on the Base Ch 33 - Back to the Office (Inside Baseball) As hard as he¡¯d tried to rally the Pack, Michael couldn¡¯t help but have his doubts. I can¡¯t believe I can¡¯t trust Bill, Michael thought to himself before he got himself out of bed. Can I? Here¡¯s the thing, I had only known Bill for about three months before I asked if he wanted a roommate. I knew that living with Jessica was becoming untenable. I¡¯d have to find something new to do. It was foolhardy to jump into living with someone, but I was so ready to get out. There wasn¡¯t another woman for me to shack up with; there wasn¡¯t another close friend who I wanted to move in with either. For the better part of the last decade, Jessica had been my friend. My best friend. My only friend. Well, that wasn¡¯t entirely true. There were friends back home and friends online. None of whom were anywhere near Jacksonville. Bill was a cool dude, that¡¯s for sure. He didn¡¯t fall into the usual pitfalls that he¡¯d usually run into with people. It seems gauche to call myself an empath, but I read people pretty well. Sometimes too well. There were times when my experience with people was further honed by predictive skills practiced in interpreting when I know what people will say. I couldn¡¯t do that with Bill. He had enough life and different experience from me that I couldn¡¯t tell what he would say or do next and it was always amusing or lighthearted or worthwhile enough that it kept me interested. Our first year in an apartment was the best thing I could have done. There was one particularly bad drop off with Jessica where she tore me apart. I¡¯d tried to keep it together when I got in, but Bill could see it all over me. He¡¯d said something to me and I¡¯d clearly not responded in the right way so he said¡­ ¡°Nope,¡± Bill¡¯d said, ¡°Go change clothes.¡± ¡°What?¡± I¡¯d asked, dumbfounded. ¡°We¡¯re going out.¡± Bill¡¯d commanded as he stood up and put his Playstation controller down. ¡°Aww dude, I don¡¯t think I¡¯m in the right place to go out.¡± He practically ran up to me, ¡°Oh no, you¡¯re in the exact right place to go out right now. Go change clothes.¡± I couldn¡¯t say no. Being charged by a squat veteran is enough to change anyone¡¯s mind. I was filled with a new energy, well, more like I was swept up by this new ¡°going out¡± energy, as opposed to my previous ¡°fuck this, fuck you, fuck living¡± energy I¡¯d had. When we got there, Bill was all ears. ¡°What happened, man?¡± I told my story. It was punctuated by drinks. My sadness eventually drowned out. I started hearing things. There was a Shil¡¯vati presence, but it was still tentative. Jacksonville was a Red Zone at the time, so everyone kept to themselves. However, there was a small contingent of Shil¡¯s trying to order drinks. My sorrow was being overtaken by curiosity. What were they ordering? Their body language was cautious but interested; they¡¯d been watching the Humans drink and were wondering if they were willing to try. It was less that I knew the words, but I knew what they were saying. The words came later. But approaching Shil¡¯vati was too big a step at that time. Baby steps. Bill had scoped out a table of Human women about my age who seemed to be having the same evening we were having. I had no clue. Bill gave me another couple of drinks before talking me into it. Then he lined my body up in their direction and sent me on my way like a toy boat, shoved out to water, bobbing along without any way of stopping itself. I asked if I could join them. They must¡¯ve allowed it because the next thing I knew, I was having a conversation with women at a bar! This was my first. I met Jessica the first day of college. I¡¯d just made my bed when Jessica and two of her friends showed up at the door of my dorm room. They¡¯d met my roommate during orientation and went looking him up. Over a short period of time and an unexpected pregnancy later, Jessica and I were together before I was even old enough to drink. Now here I was drunk, talking to women at a bar, after I¡¯d been crushed by my first love that same afternoon. And they were entirely willing to talk and share! It was fascinating to my drunk mind. Things seemed to go great until a broad gesture on my part knocked a flight of beers over on the ladies. It didn¡¯t matter. My confidence was restored. Well, my lack of confidence was replaced by a modicum of confidence that I wasn¡¯t trapped in my relationship with Jessica; there was hope for me. I could find happiness, a partner, someone who was interested in me beyond the young love I¡¯d experienced so far. Michael sat up in bed. His memories and the confidence they gave him were enough to stir him. Bill was already up. He could hear some flavor of Final Fantasy playing in the common room. But can I trust Bill? Michael continued pondering. He did have dreams about me dying. He was surprised in the one dream not by how hard he was stabbing me, but by how many times he stabbed me in his dream. He does seem to enjoy my suffering. I¡¯d thought that that was some kind of dude culture that I hadn¡¯t really experienced. I just get along with women better than I do with men. I¡¯ve always had friends who are girls. Not girlfriends, mind you, but girls had always been easy to talk to; which was likely because they¡¯d never seen me as a partner. Much after the fact, someone had come up with the term ¡°friendzoned¡±. I didn¡¯t feel friendzoned by the women at the bar; so why was that a term I identified with? Something to ponder some other time. Michael looked around the room that he and Bill shared. Bill had pictures and banners and sports memorabilia decorating his side. Michael had very little. A few pictures of his kids, pictures of former coworkers, but nothing else that could be described as decorations. Michael observed though, that the floor was littered with trash. He¡¯d left his own fair share of cups, cans and chip bags but Bill¡¯s side was a bell curve of bottles and cans. Bill¡¯s drinking was how he was coping with the Damoclean sword, or rather, customized KBAR that seemed to be threatening him. Gathering his trash, Michael managed to keep Bill''s debris in his arms. He pulled up the back of his shorts before emerging from their room out to the common room. He padded his bare feet from his room toward the bathroom and a chute to dispose of his trash. On his way, he saw Bill on the couch, playing the newest iteration of Final Fantasy. His hair was a mess. His stubble was beyond his usual attempts at facial hair, though it grew in uneven patches. Michael saw the bottles on the coffee table and at least one on the floor between the couch and the coffee table. Michael dumped his trash, trying to close the door to the chute audibly enough to be heard so that it didn¡¯t seem like he was sneaking around but not so loud that it might disturb anyone else who might still be sleeping in their rooms. He cleared his throat and addressed Bill, ¡°Hey dude, what¡¯cha doin¡¯?¡± Bill¡¯s head lolled to the side, he paused his game and turned slowly to look at Michael. He squinted in the relative darkness of the rest of the room, ¡°I¡¯m playing games, drinking and enjoying my day.¡± ¡°You know, we should probably head to work.¡± Michael tried to be gentle. ¡°Work?¡± Bill muttered sloppily, ¡°It¡¯s Shel! We don¡¯t have any work.¡± He turned his head and returned to his game. Michael stepped down and placed himself just to the side of the TV screen, ¡°It¡¯s totally not Shel, dude.¡± He looked around and grabbed two empty bottles. ¡°How about this: I¡¯ll tell them you¡¯re not feeling well and you can stay here and clean up?¡± Bill grumpily paused his game and sneered in reply, ¡°How about you do that?¡± Michael rolled his eyes, ¡°Cool cool cool. Ok. Well, I¡¯ll see you later, then.¡± Bill accentuated his voice in a deep vocal fry, ¡°See you later, broooo.¡± He unpaused his game and set back to saving some fictional sovereign nation. Michael went on to work knowing that nothing was going to get cleaned. Maybe Bill would clean up around the couch as a common courtesy, but he would do little beyond that. *** When Michael arrived at his office, he was surprised to see that he had a new partner. Much less of a partner and more of a purple uniformed Shil¡¯vati was rooting around in Bill¡¯s desk. Michael wasn¡¯t sure what his authority was or how to put on the fa?ade of authority, but he gave his best attempt. ¡°Heads up, soldier!¡± Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. The rummaging stopped. The purple camouflaged camel¡¯s hump in his vision stirred and then shook with laughter. The mound of marine turned to reveal themself to be Joph¡¯rena. She wiped her newly wetted eyes saying, ¡°Oh boy! Big bad Michael coming to put me in my place!¡± Her tears and laughter hadn¡¯t stopped. ¡°I always get the drop on you. This is the first time you¡¯ve snuck up on me!¡± ¡°You must be busy,¡± Michael stated inquisitively. ¡°Find anything good?¡± He asked as he put his bag down on his desk. As she caught her breath, Joph¡¯rena pulled a package of gum out of one of Bill¡¯s desk drawers. ¡°This will be the death of us.¡± She opened the lid and took a whiff. Michael stumbled over his words as he watched Joph¡¯rena¡¯s eyes seem to dilate. ¡°I, Uh, knew it was a thing for y¡¯all, but I didn¡¯t know it was that big of a problem.¡± Joph¡¯rena slurred a bit as she replied, ¡°This is contraband.¡± She took another snuff at the lid of the cylindrical container. After a beat, she looked at Michael with a wide eyed suddenness that should have made Michael run. ¡°Michael, darling, your armor idea is moving up the chain faster than anything I¡¯ve ever seen. Well, there was that ¡®mouse¡¯ thing some other Human made, but this armor of yours, could be revolutionary.¡± She breathed the word more than said it. Michael couldn¡¯t tell whether she was excited about the armor or feeling whatever effects the mints gave the Shil¡¯vati, but he couldn¡¯t tell whether he should be excited or frightened yet. ¡°Great?¡± Michael¡®s voice pitched higher, still unsure how to respond to his new purple, gigantic, amplified officemate. ¡°I must show you!¡± Joph¡¯rena exclaimed, grabbing her omnipad off of Bill¡¯s table. Within a few taps and swipes, she was ready to turn the screen to show Michael. What he saw was magnificent. The Shil¡¯vati model wearing the armor looked fabulous. The helmet had a distinct crystal luster with several spiking angles of cleavage. Any light would reflect off of it like a disco ball. Joph¡¯rena leaned in a little faster than either of them were prepared for, all the same, she wrapped around Michael in a conspiratorial embrace. He tried not to notice the press of her bust. ¡°Yes, great,¡± Joph¡¯rena breathed in seductive tones, ¡°We¡¯re going to be rich.¡± Again, her extended, breathy extension of the word rich: riiiiiiiich. Michael winced at her closeness. He held his ugly memories of Joph¡¯rena and her big purple ilk being so close to him, holding him in place against his will. Suddenly, without releasing him, Joph¡¯rena looked toward the door of the office. ¡°Where¡¯s Bill?¡± Michael found himself in fear of being smothered by her. Wary of his position shifting further under her he hated the only reply he had, ¡°Bill¡¯s not well. He¡¯s taking the day off.¡± ¡°Ooh,¡± Joph¡¯rena replied, her eyes seemed like fiery suns going down in the horizon of her eyes, moving from the door and setting down on Michael¡¯s face framed by another pair of her heavenly orbs. Michael saw Joph¡¯rena¡¯s backlit face, dark but for her eyes and light reflecting off of her tusks. Michael worried, Were her tusks glistening with drool? Between her hushed tones, amplified impulsive behavior and her muscular arms, Michael feared what would come next. ¡°Well then, should the two of us continue your interviews?¡± She straightened up and flipped through some folders that Michael and Bill had set up on a nearby filing cabinet to be ready for the next day. Michael remained in his scrunched up position even though Joph¡¯rena had moved away from him. He opened his eyes carefully and saw that she was over at Bill¡¯s desk instead of surrounding him. He relaxed at his desk. I¡¯m glad that business didn¡¯t continue. Taking a deep breath in and out, Michael replied. ¡°I guess so. I didn¡¯t know you¡¯d be willing to join me,¡± he hesitated, ¡°in person.¡± Joph¡¯rena twisted her tusk and opined dismissively. ¡°Oh sure, why watch it on camera when there¡¯s a spot available today and I can sit in?¡± ¡°Ok¡­¡± Michael cringed at the thought. ¡°You have a camera? In my office?¡± ¡°Oh Michael,¡± she spoke to him as if he were a child, ¡°I have cameras everywhere.¡± Michael winced. ¡°Including the bathrooms?¡± ¡°No, not on Imperial property. Maybe through an infrared drone camera-ah, it doesn¡¯t matter. No.¡± ¡°You told me that you work in ¡®Intelligence¡¯. That means something different for the Shil¡¯vati, doesn¡¯t it?¡± ¡°Yes. I think your people called them the FBI or the CIA or FDA or something. I¡¯m a member of the Interior.¡± Michael expected her to procure a badge. She didn¡¯t. That¡¯s disappointing. ¡°What does that mean exactly?¡± Joph¡¯rena smirked, ¡°No, you don¡¯t get to know exactly what I do, but I¡¯ll tell you that my job is to know things.¡± ¡°What do you¨C¡± Michael stopped himself. ¡°What do you need to know, specifically from what I¡¯m doing?¡± ¡°I¡¯ve suspected that someone on the base was a member of the rebels that Ssgt Remington told you about on his way station. That somehow they¡¯ve infiltrated our ranks. I don¡¯t know who it is, but through your interviews I¡¯m hoping we can comb through everyone and come up with a list of suspects.¡± She twisted a tusk and continued in a disappointed tone, ¡°I have the power to authorize all the frills you give to our soldiers after their interviews.¡± ¡°The frills?¡± Michael scoffed. ¡°The air conditioning, the literal creature comforts you find out about your interviewees and promise them.¡± ¡°Call them ¡®quality of life¡¯ improvements. You have a diverse population on base, you can¡¯t expect them all to abide by a single species¡¯ preferences.¡± Joph¡¯rena spat, ¡°You think soldiers get to choose where they sleep or what they eat when they¡¯re at war?¡± Michael replied with as much verve as he got, ¡°We¡¯re not at war!¡± Joph¡¯rena got close enough that Michael thought she would strike him. ¡°Oh, but we are, Human.¡± She stayed too close to him for a moment. He could see her pores, smell the mint she had acquired from Bill¡¯s drawer. He felt a bead of nervous sweat travel from his neck down to the small of his back. Michael deliberately took a breath. ¡°Are-¡± His voice was too quiet. He spoke up, ¡°Are the soldiers not happier and therefore doing their jobs better?¡± Joph¡¯rena¡¯s expression softened and she withdrew a bit. ¡°The numbers are up. We can¡¯t tell the higher ups that it¡¯s because they¡¯ve got an Interior Agent handing out goodies.¡± ¡°They¡¯re not goodies, they¡¯re accommodations. They¡¯re a means of evening the playing field so that everyone can be equally productive.¡± Michael retorted. ¡°This is what I do. I don¡¯t give out ¡®treats¡¯, I treat everyone equitably, no matter who they are or what setbacks they have had or their background. They have the right to equitable treatment instead of the Imperium¡¯s ¡®one size fits all¡¯ policy.¡± ¡°Equity.¡± Joph¡¯rena mocked. ¡°Yes, I¡¯m familiar with the concept.¡± ¡°Great.¡± Michael stated. ¡°Fine.¡± Joph¡¯rena punctuated. Did I just talk back to a Shil¡¯vati Spook? Who the hell are you, Michael? He thought as he swiveled his chair so that he faced the door. *** Work proceeded as though there was a dark cloud looming over the interviews. A dark cloud named Joph¡¯rena. Michael tried to plow through, he let in the first scheduled interviewee. ¡°So, Su¡¯Palla, what do you do on base?¡± Michael asked with genuine interest. Su¡¯Palla, a scaly skinned Helkam blinked one set of eyelids. She was dressed in purple fatigues that fit her a little tighter than Michael was used to seeing. She wasn¡¯t nearly as tall or as muscular as the average Shil¡¯vati, but for all that litheness he observed, she must¡¯ve been wirey. ¡°Ssupplies¡± she hissed with a flick of her tongue. Michael started to write and then looked back up with a puffed out lower lip. Understanding that expression as one that needed more explanation, Su¡¯Palla continued, ¡°I overssee our supply of bedding, foodstuffs, maintenance equipment including replacement parts as well as ammunition.¡± Michael squinted his eyes ¡°So I can thank you for the snails we had a bit ago.¡± He heard Joph¡¯rena¡¯s stomach growl. ¡°Thank you for reminding me, Michael,¡± Joph¡¯rena put her hands on her abdomen as if to try to shush her innards. She looked at Su¡¯Palla, ¡°When might we have that delicacy again?¡± Michael saw Su¡¯Palla¡¯s eyes widen horizontally as she spoke, ¡°Oh sssure, I cannot say for ccertain, but I sussspect that it will be quite a while.¡± ¡°Why?¡± Michael asked in relief while Joph¡¯rena asked the same word at the same time in despair. Su¡¯Palla recoiled a bit, ¡°We acquired that from a shipment from the Consortium or some such unlucky pirate that was intercccepted and requisssitioned for our usssse.¡± She flicked her tongue, ¡°Our luck may win out at any moment, but when that will be is anyone¡¯sss guess.¡± Joph¡¯rena closed her eyes and tweaked her tusk. Sighing, she replied, ¡°Our sisters should have no problem making that kind of requisition.¡± She opened her eyes and looked at Su¡¯Palla with renewed passion, ¡°I¡¯ll check in with some contacts higher up.¡± Su¡¯Palla¡¯s appreciation shown in her scales as they seemed to shimmer, ¡°Oh thank you, Joph¡¯rena!¡± Michael took a deep breath, ¡°Ok y¡¯all, this is too much inside baseball for me.¡± He stood up and grabbed his stuff and looked at the Halkan. ¡°Su¡¯Palla, have you found the shallows we set up on the waterfront adequate for your purposes?¡± Su¡¯Palla¡¯s smile spread wide ¡°We have found the accommodations primitive, but we¡¯re burrowing them to our satisfaction.¡± Her vertically oriented pupils took a barely perceptible turn toward Joph¡¯rena, she then lowered her head a fraction and clarified, ¡°On our off duty hours, of course.¡± She made a stuttering hiss that seemed to indicate that she was joking. ¡°Grand.¡± Michael said pointedly and turned to Joph¡¯rena. ¡°It seems like you have the reins here, Joph¡¯rena. Is it cool with you if I take off? Kind of a personal emergency has come up.¡± Joph¡¯rena wrinkled her eyebrows, ¡°A personal emergency? During this conversation?¡± It started before the conversation, when I found you in my office, Michael thought. Instead he grabbed his stomach and offered, ¡°Yeah, right around the eating snails part.¡± Joph¡¯rena rolled her eyes, ¡°Yeah, sure, your loss.¡± She gave him an inquisitive leer, ¡°Though I would have liked to have observed you at work in the flesh.¡± Michael chuckled apologetically. ¡°Yeah, sure, take a raincheck?¡± He asked while he backed out of the door, not waiting for an answer. After the door closed, Su¡¯Palla flicked her tongue in the air briefly before asking, ¡°Um, Joph¡¯rena, what does ¡®inssside baseball¡¯ mean?¡± Joph¡¯rena looked back at Su¡¯Palla and shrugged, ¡°What¡¯s a raincheck?¡± The two shook their heads and opted to continue their conversation where they left off about bringing more delicacies to the base. Murder on the Base 34 - Bill鈥檚 Self Care (I am Batman) Duval Dirtbag Murder on the Base Chapter 34 - Bill¡¯s Self Care (I am Batman) ¡°I can¡¯t believe this thing is supposed to take three days to beat.¡± Bill exclaimed to no one in particular. No one was listening anyway. And if they were listening, they were pretending they couldn¡¯t hear him. Bill had found himself to be the loneliest number. Part of the Pack, ha! Bill thought to himself. He cut his eyes to all the closed doors around him. He sat in the center of the common room, Playstation controller in his hand. Maybe Mike is part of ¡°the Pack¡±, I¡¯m just his two-bit sidekick? His Robin? His Sancho Pizza? Or whatever the fuck his name was. Fuck that. I¡¯ve had a full life without Michael. I¡¯m not second fiddle to anybody. I am Batman. Bill stood up from the sectional and put his hands on his hips. He almost pulled the PS4 from the entertainment center when he did so. He immediately gave the remote some slack so he wouldn¡¯t yank the Playstation completely off and stepped forward to push it back to its place. He then unplugged the cord. ¡°It¡¯s probably charged enough anyway.¡± He looked around to make sure no one saw him then put his hands to his hips, ¡°I am Batman,¡± he said aloud. Bill sat back down and continued taking turns with the screen-sized monster for another minute or two before he resigned himself and the Final Fantasy game he was playing. ¡°Man, this sucks.¡± He turned off the TV and went back to the room he shared with Michael. He looked at his side of the room. His sheets were disheveled. His clothes had made a stinky mound in his laundry basket. Papers were strewn about on various flat surfaces. There were two or three Taco Bell cups half filled with watered down sodas. He saw where one cup had spilled on a spread of papers and breathed a slow, sullen ¡°Fuck.¡± He took another, more cleansing breath and got to work. Bill grabbed some dirty socks that hadn¡¯t made their way to the laundry basket yet and dabbed at the spilt drink. Saw that that was fruitless and picked the soggy papers up to throw them into a trashcan. He gave the wet floor a half assed swipe with the socks and tossed them with the rest of the mound of clothes. He tore the bedsheets off of his mattress tiredly, capping the laundry basket in doing so, grabbed the basket at the handles and put it on his bare bed. He took a laundry bag to cover the lip of the basket and overturned the whole thing. He tightened the string and swung it toward the door. He picked up the plastic cups, poured them into one cup and stacked the others under the newly filled one. He took them to the latrine and dumped its contents down the sink. He gave the cups a toss into the trashcan in the bathroom. He covered his mouth and made faded crowd-cheering noises, whispering to himself, ¡°three points.¡± Coming back into his room, he picked up the loose papers, licking his fingertip to better grip the bottom ones and slid them into a pile that stopped on his stomach; he put them on a side table he¡¯d crammed in at the foot of his bed. Through some careful fat man acrobatics, Bill wrangled a fresh fitted sheet on his bed. He unfurled a fresh top sheet and tucked the bottom corners in hospital style. He grabbed his Batman comforter out from storage under his bed and let it float into place. I am Batman. He looked over to Michael¡¯s side of the bed. It needed some similar help as well, but fuck him Bill thought, grabbing the string of the laundry bag, slinging it over his shoulder and made his way out to the wash. Into the common room, still seeing closed doors, he looked back into his room. I feel better, Bill mused, no matter what anyone else thinks about me. Walking loosened his thoughts as well. How did I get here? This fucker, Mikey, was going through his own shit show and I, Batman, stepped in and suggested he become my roommate. We were doing fine for a bit, I had to batwinch him up from the sorrows a bit with some liquid courage and we hunted for short skirts. Then he got us involved with the Shil¡¯vati. Bill shook his head and took a deep breath. Looking around he continued, And here we are on the fucking Shil¡¯vati base! I was out of the game thanks to that IED that broke my back. I didn¡¯t want a desk job. But here I fucking am working a desk for an alien military. Goddamn. Bill carried his laundry and trash bags to just outside of their pod of rooms to the grounds. Bobbling shadows made him turn his head toward the tight military bodies jogging along the inside border of the base. There are some perks to be sure. Bill smiled to himself thinking pervertedly, Privates. When Bill¡¯s eyes eventually made their way to theirs, he saw that they were all scowling at him. What did I do? He lugged his laundry over from one shoulder to the other. Oh yeah, they think I¡¯m a murderer. Surely the murder investigators didn¡¯t just out with their suspects, but there are only two new kids on the block and I¡¯m the one with the weapons who also happens to be lecherously leering at the Privates. Hmm¡­But, like, I didn¡¯t do it. Everyone here may think that I did, but I know I didn¡¯t. Speaking of people assuming I did something wrong, what the fuck did I do to Fala and Harley? We were having a good time, I thought, and then we weren¡¯t. Women, sheesh! But they cut me off before the murder. So what gives? I mean, they helped make my room a mess, so that¡¯s not it. My room. Their room. The couch in the common room. Bill rolled his eyes, I¡¯m getting off track. If those closest to me are keeping their distance and other random personnel on the base have their doubts as well; then that probably means that the interviews won¡¯t go well for a bit. Maybe that¡¯s why I decided to take a sick day today. Maybe I knew that I was the turd in the punchbowl. Bill growled to himself before he opened the door to the base laundry. But I didn¡¯t do it, no matter what anyone else thinks; how do I prove it? He opened the door and found himself face to face with a giant snake-faced figure. ¡°Gah!¡±, he shouted involuntarily and dropped his laundry bag. The Helkan backed away from the counter. ¡°Excuse me?¡± ¡°Oh shit, sorry, I just¨CI was preoccupied. I wasn¡¯t prepared to see a non-Shil¡¯vati manning the desk.¡± Bill apologized, scrambling to pick up his laundry, half making sure he didn¡¯t need to add the pants he was wearing to the bag. The attendant hissed, ¡°I¡¯m jussst as much a part of the Imperium as you are, Pink Dick.¡± Once he was certain he was unsoiled enough to continue, he continued, ¡°Yeah, yeah, my bad. I¡¯m sorry. My mind was somewhere else. What¡¯s your name?¡± The Helkan crossed her arms, maintaining her disappointed stance, ¡°Yo¡¯Landa, but you ought to know that. We¡¯ve met. You and Michael spoke to me last week.¡± Bill gave his forehead a thud with his open palm, ¡°Of course, Yolanda, I-¡± ¡°Yo¡¯Landa,¡± the Helkan woman corrected. ¡°Yo¡¯Landa?¡± Bill enunciated, ¡°Not ¡®Yolanda¡¯?¡± Yo¡¯Landa¡¯s tongue flicked out as if that were a sufficient answer. Bill gave his own pained smile that he tried to make not look like a grimace, ¡°Yo¡¯Landa, of course¡­I need to drop off some clothes. Can you tell me when they might be ready?¡± Yo¡¯Landa took the bag as he slid it across the counter to her, tore off a ticket and handed it to him, saying, ¡°Maybe the end of the day.¡± She pulled it over to another table behind her, ¡°Depends on if there¡¯s any evidence in here. Like a bloody shirt or something like that.¡± Bill stiffened but gave no further reaction. ¡°Best of luck with that.¡± He held up his end of the ticket in the air in salute before planting it in one of his pants pockets and stepping outside. You¡¯re all alone on this one, Batman. Time to use those detective skills to find the perpetrator of this dastardly deed. Bang! Boom. Bill shadowboxed his unknown adversary who stood outside of the base laundry. His eyes shifted from the guilty party¡¯s beatdown in his mind to what was really in front of him: Michael was practically running out of the office. Michael had no reason to look in Bill¡¯s direction, but there they were, not 20 yards apart. Michael started closing that distance when he happened to turn and see Bill. A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. Bill tried to seem nonplussed, ¡°Hey Mikey, what¡¯s up, dude?¡± Michael huffed a bit but was trying to not show it. ¡°Hey, huh, you, uh, you doing some laundry?¡± Bill retrieved the ticket he¡¯d just put in his pocket to show as proof of action, ¡°Yessir.¡± ¡°Cool.¡± Michael tried to take a settling breath, ¡°You grab anything of mine while you were at it?¡± ¡°Nope, just the one ticket.¡± Bill stated matter of factly. Michael gave Bill a jocular smile. What¡¯s gotten into him, Bill wondered. Michael came out with a question, ¡°You think maybe we could get the heck out of Dodge?¡± Bill frowned, ¡°Who¡¯s taking care of the office if you¡¯re running out of there?¡± Michael chuckled, ¡°Joph¡¯rena. She¡¯s an intelligence officer. She can do our job without us for a day or two. Right?¡± Bill shrugged, ¡°Why not?¡± Then he looked around before starting, ¡°I¡¯ve been thinking, Michael, the last time I saw my KBAR was¨C¡± Michael cut him off. ¡°Yeah, well, I think that¡¯s something we need to keep to ourselves for now. Is there someplace we could go where you could feel safe?¡± ¡°Safe?¡± Bill scoffed, I¡¯m Batman, ¡°What were you thinking?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know, I was thinking we could take a field trip. You, me and the rest of the Pack.¡± A field trip, huh? With the Pack? I don¡¯t know that I¡¯d want to take them all with us, but fuck it, the more the fucking merrier right? Bill¡¯s conspiratorial thoughts considered the choices he had: stay here and wallow in my sadness, go drink it all away, or maybe there¡¯s someone we could see who could make things a lot better or a lot worse. We shall see¡­ ¡°Sure thing, Bud.¡± Bill stepped closer to Michael and put his hand on Michael¡¯s shoulder and thought, Maybe I¡¯m not Batman after all. ¡°You know what we ought to do? Let¡¯s go visit Mom.¡± *** ¡®Twas Shel and the Pack was ready to roll. Michael asked one last time before they all piled into what amounted to a Shil¡¯vati version of a Ford Transit, ¡°Anybody gotta go potty before we go?¡± Fala shook her head dismissively, ¡°Michael, we have traversed the stars; distances inconceivable to you and your world less than a decade ago; been stationed around planets that have never graced Human eyes with a catalog so extensive that not all of it has not even been translated into a Human language. Trust that we know how to ready ourselves for travel.¡± She was dressed casually but seemed less put upon than the other Rakiri who were still strapping luggage to the side and back of the vehicle. The luggage were all matching pink with tiny repeated designs that looked like hound''s tooth, though a closer inspection would reveal tiny overlapping crowns and dog bones. Ssgt Remington gave a resounding tug at the tie down and gave it a final pluck. He looked at Bill and gave him a wink. Bill replied to Remy with finger pistols and turned to Michael, ¡°Those bad boys ain¡¯t goin¡¯ nowhere.¡± Michael pursed his lips and made his way to the very back seat of the van. ¡°Sure. But I promise you that if I were driving, I¡¯d make you hold it until we got to our destination.¡± Linnet gave Michael an amused look, ¡°Hold it?¡± Michael scrunched his face, ¡°Hold your pee!¡± Linnet reached for Michael¡¯s crotch but he swerved a little so her fingernail made a zipping sound as it ran over the thigh of his jorts. ¡°I¡¯ll hold your pee.¡± ¡°That¡¯s my ¡®Pee pee¡¯ and no you will not.¡± Michael protested. ¡°Maybe later.¡± Linnet grinned. Michael drew his eyebrows together in faux disapproval but said nothing more. ¡°Why do you call it a ¡®Pee pee¡¯?¡± Bel¡¯a inquired. ¡°That¡¯s not what Billy calls his,¡± Harley interjected, ¡°He calls his ¡®His Little Soldier¡¯. It wears a helmet and everything.¡± "What do you call yours?" Fala asked Ssgt Remington. Bill smirked at him, ¡°I bet you¡¯re packin¡¯, huh, big man?¡± Ssgt Remington turned the key in the ignition. ¡°No comment.¡± He said curtly. Bill cracked open a coke bottle and put his eyes on the road, ¡°Yeah, I bet.¡± ¡°The Red Rocket!¡± Finley blurted out of nowhere. All eyes turned to him. He shook severely at the onrushing attention. ¡°That¡¯s uh, what I call mine.¡± The retinue quickly averted their eyes from where he was seated in the middle right seat as he was the last one in the van and dropped the subject completely. The van soon ran out of base roadway and they were on the Buckman on their way south to Daytona. Michael noted the change in intensity of the van noises, as though someone had turned the fans from high to low suddenly and then it resumed at a speed still below where it was before. ¡°Have you ever been to Daytona, Michael?¡± Linnet asked. ¡°Once, when I was young. Maybe 11.¡± Michael recalled writing about the trip he took with his parents to Disney world before he went into middle school. He remembered the delicious breakfast he had had every morning. He recalled that his mother had said something along the lines of ¡°we must¡¯ve burned all those calories standing in line¡± she had reported after weighing herself when they got back home. He remembered a later time when friends and family had commented that the picture Michael had taken off his father on the skyline with the castle in the background was one of the best ever taken of him at his funeral. Linnet saw the sadness pass through Michael¡¯s eyes and held his hand. ¡°Oh, I made you sad. That wasn¡¯t my intent.¡± ¡°Oh no, it''s not your fault at all. Damn this noggin and its content.¡± Michael took a deep breath and tried to not cry. Linnet squeezed his hand, ¡°Maybe a talk for another time then,¡± she suggested as she could tell he felt suddenly claustrophobic. Michael smiled sadly and nodded his head. ¡°So what¡¯s up with Daytona?¡± Harley asked Bill. ¡°Oh you haven¡¯t heard of it?¡± Bill turned from the navigator¡¯s seat to face her excitedly, ¡°There used to be a big race there. NASCAR.¡± ¡°NASCAR?¡± Harley and Bel¡¯a leaned forward. ¡°The Daytona 500. Big time race.¡± Bill said wistfully. ¡°500 miles per hour was the top speed?¡± Ssgt Remington snickered. ¡°No, it was a race to 500 laps.¡± ¡°Ah, endurance as opposed to speed then?¡± Fala posited. ¡°Yeah,¡± Michael groaned, ¡°I don¡¯t know how people watched that shit. ¡®Oh look, they''re all turning left. And they¡¯re turning left again. And again a left.¡¯¡± Bill looked through the mirror in the visor at Michael, ¡°Man, you don¡¯t understand the drama and the dance that is NASCAR racing.¡± Harley looked into the middle distance out the window. ¡°Imagine it, it¡¯s just a woman in a car racing at a hundred miles per hour with another couple women.¡± ¡°Couple?¡± Bill countered rhetorically, ¡°it¡¯s like 30 cars!¡± Harley was steadfast. ¡°Still, my mind is not swayed.¡± ¡°And women? Ha!¡± Bill scoffed. ¡°There¡¯ve only been like two women in professional racing. And they sucked.¡± ¡°You mean to say that there were only men driving?¡± ¡°For a long time and for the most part, yeah.¡± ¡°But what about their families?¡± ¡°That¡¯s how they kept their families. Their whole career was racing.¡± ¡°But that seems dangerous! Shouldn¡¯t the more numerous members of the species be risking themselves for profit?¡± ¡°That may be how it works out in space, but here on Earth, the men have always done the riskier work.¡± Harley balked, ¡°That¡¯s not logical.¡± Bill retorted smugly, ¡°Men never are.¡± Men never are. Michael agreed, still not quite out of his memories. His dad had cancer, a rare kind of kidney cancer that overtook his body with a quickness. He was diagnosed in August and had passed away the next March. Seven months of sudden and awful agony. It didn¡¯t make sense. It wasn¡¯t logical. Cancer never is either. Grief fluttered in Michael¡¯s stomach. He looked up at the continuing discussion of gender and politics and mechanics of NASCAR and recalled Bill¡¯s diagnosis. He had prostate cancer. It wasn¡¯t going to take him as quickly as Michael¡¯s father¡¯s cancer did, but it wasn¡¯t logical either. How does someone who volunteers himself to go into war and defend his people survive that, only to come home to find out that his body wants him dead as well. The battle never ended. Having thought that, though, Michael took stock of himself right now. He was well enough. He was holding hands with a woman¨Clet¡¯s not quibble over the hairy details¨Cwho loved him. Well, she at least lusted after him. That could be enough for now, right? He squeezed her hand gently twice then let go of it so he could burrow himself into her for the remainder of the ride. He wasn¡¯t much for napping, but at the moment, he needed to close his eyes, ignore the inane conversation happening around him and let the world turn around him. The drive to Daytona took a little over an hour. Michael broke from his meditations when the vehicle slowed down from highway speeds when they got off on the exit. He wiped his mouth from the drool that accidentally escaped his mouth onto Linnet. He hoped she wouldn¡¯t mind. He could tell that Bill and Ssgt Remington were navigating through the neighborhoods where Bill¡¯s mother lived. Michael reflected as his ears came back into the tune of conversation that he hadn¡¯t blocked out people like he¡¯d used to do. He used to find people predictable and annoying, yet his current job was to make sure he took the time to listen to people. His job at the moment was to listen to people who felt like they weren¡¯t being heard and do what he could to advocate for them. What a weird, wild life he was living. He hadn¡¯t closed off the world on purpose like he¡¯d just done in a while. It used to be so easy and now he had to put effort into it. At Bill¡¯s prompting, Ssgt Remington pulled into the driveway of a house that looked like any of the others in the neighborhood. Its stucco was painted a bright yellow with dulled red terra cotta tile on its roof. The grass was wellkept and the bushes trimmed. If it were any better kept one might confuse it for a Hobbit hole. Soon after the van parked, a short old Asian woman came out of the garage. With an accent that stubbornly kept its hooks in her voice she exclaimed ¡±William!¡± Bill strode over to give her a hug. When he was finished, he kept her at his side but turned to the assembly who had gathered from the van. ¡°Everybody, this is my mom.¡± Turning to his mother, ¡°Mom, this is everyone.¡± Bill¡¯s mom addressed Bill quietly, ¡°Tak¨¢, your friends are taller and hairier than I¡¯d imagined.¡± Murder On The Base Ch 35 - It鈥檚 Good to be Home (OWB) Murder On The Base Ch 35 - It¡¯s Good to be Home (OWB) ¡°Yeah, I thought I¡¯d told you. They¡¯re Rakiri, Mom,¡± Bill tried to explain quietly to his mother while the Rakiri Pack, including Michael, stood between the Transit they¡¯d ridden to Bill¡¯s mom¡¯s house and herself and her house. Bill saw the look that his mother was not removing from her face, ¡°And they¡¯re my friends.¡± The short woman didn¡¯t roll her eyes but it seemed like her whole body shifted in a manner similar to rolling eyes: a short dip down, then up and back to center; Bill¡¯s mother shifted back into host mode, ¡°Yes, of course, now what are your names?¡± Before they could start, an old but spry man came out through the inner door of the garage to approach the garage entrance in earnest. ¡°Hell of a tranny you got there, Willy!¡± Before lifting his eyes he added, ¡°What? Did you bring the whole damn football team?¡± Bill¡¯s mother shrank into the background. Fala exclaimed, ¡°Who are you calling a tranny, sir!?¡± The old man¡¯s smile dissolved for a moment before it grew anew. He removed his flat cap to place it on his chest with his left hand then extended his right to his accuser, ¡°Oh, my dear, I did not mean to offend!¡± His hand extended further toward the Transit behind them, ¡°I was referring to your vehicle there. Please excuse me, but I would never confuse a marvelous countenance such as yours with such a dreadful moniker.¡± He returned his hand to Fala and bowed his head. ¡°I¡¯m Bill. Enchant¨¦e.¡± Fala gave this Old White Bill her hand with equal parts confusion and polity, ¡°Oh, the pleasure is mine.¡± She looked at Bill snubbingly, ¡°This is more like it.¡± Bill leveled his lips in disgust. Michael cut the tension, ¡°Hey Bill, uh, nice to meet you.¡± He reached his hand out to Old White Bill, ¡°I¡¯m Bill¡¯s roommate. I¡¯m pretty used to calling him Bill, what should I call you to avoid confusion?¡± Old White Bill clasped hands with Michael, ¡°I¡¯ve been going by ¡®Bill¡¯ since I got off the ship after Dubya Dubya Two.¡± He released his grip and craned it over to Bill to shake his hand as well, ¡°We¡¯ve been calling him ¡®Willy¡¯ at home. I guess Sharon has called him ¡®William¡¯ to be formal with y¡¯all.¡± Bill¡¯s mother reemerged from beside Bill, pointing at him, ¡°This is my baby boy, Willy.¡± She stepped over to join Old White Bill¡¯s side, ¡°This is my big boy, Bill.¡± She shimmied and bumped hips as best she could with their height disparity. Linnet offered her hand, ¡°I¡¯m Linnet. Um, hi White Bill?¡± Old White Bill looked at Linnet with a measured combination of confusion and offense. Linnet squirmed, ¡°Bill? Hi Bill.¡± Michael squirmed a bit himself. Uh oh. Old White Bill¡¯s fa?ade broke quickly after he looked at all the shocked faces in front of him. Laughing, he took Linnet¡¯s hand, ¡°My girlfriend is Filipino, you aren¡¯t the first one to call me ¡®White¡¯ or even ¡®White Bill¡¯.¡± Michael took the moment of broken tension to put his hand on Old White Bill¡¯s forearm to get his attention away from Linnet¡¯s embarrassment and his own guffawing. He then pointed out the rest of the group to the old man. They all gave some degree of salutation to the old man. ¡°Well, I¡¯m not going to remember any of your names. I hope you don¡¯t take offense. The old steel trap,¡± Old White Bill said while tapping his temple, ¡°Is a little rustier than it used to be.¡± ¡°None at all, sir.¡± Michael shook the hand of the forearm he was holding. When he let go, he was surprised to see Old White Bill give a sturdy salute to the company. Unsurprised, the Pack all saluted him back. ¡°It¡¯s been a long time since I was enlisted but we get some practice out at the VFW.¡± He winked at Bill then looked back at Michael, ¡°I take it you didn¡¯t serve.¡± Michael didn¡¯t enjoy being the odd man out but it had happened enough times that he wasn¡¯t phased. ¡°No sir, but I work on the base up in Jax, does that count?¡± ¡°I heard that you and Willy had racked up in the base. Have you discharged a firearm?¡± ¡°Not in battle.¡± Michael felt his neck crane a little lower. ¡°Have you been dressed down by a drill sergeant?¡± ¡°Not exactly.¡± Michael¡¯s neck craned lower. ¡°How many laps have you run around the base?¡± Michael¡¯s head couldn¡¯t get any lower. Old White Bill slapped Michael¡¯s back making Michael¡¯s head bob up reflexively. ¡°Citizen soldier is enough for me. Why are we standing out in the heat? Let¡¯s go inside. Sharon, lead the way!¡± Bill¡¯s mom shimmied then turned in place to let everyone in through the garage. Michael noticed that the garage was well organized. Plenty of room to maneuver the cobalt Buick Enclave beside a car that was blanketed by a University of Florida Gators car cover. He assumed it was Old White Bill¡¯s sports car. Corvette? T-bird? Micheal didn¡¯t know anything about brands or models of cars except he knew when he saw something pretty. The garage door led them straight into the kitchen. There was a very large pot stewing on the stovetop. The smell made more than Michael¡¯s mouth water. There was a machine that looked like a miniature R2-D2 on the island, and there were various stirring implements neatly arranged here and there. From the front of the house in the kitchen to the back of the house, a large beam was the only thing supporting the ceiling; the rest was all open space. The beam held several white porcelain statues of various shapes, mostly koi and cats. A hand-cast and hand-painted statue of a bald eagle interrupted the flow of more tasteful figures. The dissonance led Michael¡¯s eyes from the beam to the living room. Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. The living room had plenty of seating for the group. There were also more potted plants than Michael cared to count. It felt like someone had put living room furniture in a jungle. Other walls closed up the length of the ceiling on either side, framing the kitchen and living room as a unified space. There seemed to be just enough room for everyone. How? Michael thought, immediately followed by Why? Who is Bill¡¯s mom that she needs this much room? He was just about to sit down on one of the large white leather couches when he noticed he was the only one in the living room. Everyone else had formed a huddle around the island in the kitchen. Almost everyone; Old White Bill had slipped away to another room. ¡°Hey, what¡¯s up?¡± Michael asked with the caution of someone who was out of the loop. The gathered loop was appreciatively sniffing at the pots covering all four burners of the stove. Bill spoke around the salivating corners of his mouth, ¡°Adobo chicken.¡± He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, ¡°I miss being home.¡± Bel¡¯a drooled onto the corner of the island. Fala elbowed Bela, ¡°We are guests! Guests don¡¯t drool on the table. Get it together!¡± Sharon had a wooden spoon in hand and was within melee range of Bel¡¯a when she saw that Fala had addressed her concerns. Sharon looked sideways at Bill, ¡°I like this one,¡± pointing the spoon at Fala. Bill smiled broadly at his mother. He gave Fala a wink. ¡°I had no idea your mother did magic.¡± Michael gaped. ¡°What do you mean?¡± Sharon asked. ¡°You¡¯ve entranced everyone in the room with your cooking.¡± Sharon scoffed, ¡°Oh please, Willy asked me if I could whip up a little something.¡± ¡°A little something?¡± Michael laughed ¡°I haven¡¯t seen anyone cook something on all four burners at the same time since my own grandmother. You could feed an army with this much food.¡± Ssgt Remington tipped his head at Michael and took off his beret. ¡°This may be one of the best smelling meals I¡¯ve had on Earth. It beats army food any day.¡± ¡°Thank you!¡± Sharon gleamed with pride. Old White Bill came out of what Michael assumed was a bedroom wearing a different Hawaiian shirt. ¡°Well don¡¯t just stand there sniffing, we gotta eat if we¡¯re going to make it to karaoke!¡± Sharon clapped with excitement and wiggled a little bit. Michael tried not to stare. Linnet noticed and hip checked him. Michael pursed his lips at her and gladly took a plate. ¡ª The crew made it out to the VFW as the sun was going down. The Rakiri entered through the foyer and milled about into various rooms designed for gatherings ages ago. Michael could see plywood replacing drywall in some parts of the walls. Faded old posters supporting the American war effort in various wars covered some of the naked walls. Rows of pictures filled the rest of the walls. The membership photos evolved over the years. Some years held a few good men. The next few held more. The membership¡¯s age ebbed and flowed depending on the era. Photos from postwar years filled the assembly halls more than others, Michael noticed. As he walked down a hall he saw the number of members and some of the members themselves had thinned out a bit. The most recent ones held a healthy number of veterans, but not nearly as many as had been in the pictures from previous years. Pictures of VFW presidents stared down at him from just under the crown molding. They made their way to what amounted to a bar across from what was clearly the chow hall. The bar was dimly lit by various neon alcohol advertisements. ¡°No Red Grail?¡± Harley balked. Her statement turned heads. A room full of veterans gave the group of Rakiri some of the strongest stink eye Michael had ever seen. Old White Bill raised his arms to wave and get the room¡¯s attention. ¡°They¡¯re with me, everybody. Everybody,¡± he turned to his fine furry friends, ¡°Willy¡¯s friends. Willy¡¯s friends,¡± he turned back to the room of old folks who were already half in the bag, ¡°Everybody.¡± Everybody¡¯s demeanor immediately relaxed. In a Norm from Cheers manner, Everybody cried, ¡°Willy¡¯s friends!¡± The crew bellied up to the bar and started drinking as well. Eventually the bar merged into one cohesive unit with some liquid courage. ¡ª ¡°When I got back from the great war, they had me go out to Las Vegas. Didn¡¯t know it at the time, but they had me hanging from the bones of the Hoover Dam!¡± An old timer named Jack slurred at Harley, who had seemed to cozy up to the Yuengling on draft. Jack updated his Untappd app absently. ¡°Tell me about it. I¡¯m not really sure what I¡¯m going to be qualified to do when all this Earth settling business gets settled.¡± Harley spoke circularly, then remembered where she was when she saw Michael¡¯s shocked face, ¡°No offense!¡± ¡°Oh, none taken, we¡¯ve all been in an occupation of some kind or another.¡± Jack looked up, ¡°And look who¡¯s occupying the microphone!¡± Harley and Michael turned to where the veteran had pointed a crooked finger. Old White Bill was already swaying to a jazzy tune. He started crooning some Sinatra hit that had faded from popular culture everywhere outside of Old White Bill¡¯s sphere of influence. Michael had heard his father describe some old men¡¯s voices as ¡°pretty good, but you can tell that they used to sound much better¡±; Michael finally understood what that meant. Old White Bill could crow, but his voice frayed a bit at the end of some lines as though he used to be able to hold the note just a little longer than he could anymore. While he was bringing the hits back from the past, he still couldn¡¯t help but show his age. Jack¡¯s smile turned back to Harley. The aging veteran asked conspiratorially, ¡°Look, we¡¯ve all been enlisted before and served under some shitty COs; how do you feel about the Shal¡¯vantis?¡± ¡°Shil¡¯vantis?¡± Harley wrinkled up her face in confusion. Jack looked from side to side, ¡°The purple ones.¡± Harley followed his gaze and also noted that there weren¡¯t any ¡®purple ones¡¯ around. ¡°Well, I mean we¡¯re Rakiri. We were conquered by them too. I can¡¯t say that we have any particular love for them, but we have learned to live with them.¡± Jack nodded with a deliberately muted expression. ¡°I don¡¯t speak for everyone, but it seems to me like those purple Shil¡¯vanti bitches need to get a new perspective on things.¡± Michael squinted as he pondered what that could mean. Old White Bill had finished his song and was thanking his throng of drunken fans and walking toward the door. The crew looked at each other and finished their drinks, settled their bills and headed toward the door as well. Old White Bill put on a tweed coat that Michael didn¡¯t remember him bringing, donned a matching trilby cap and waved at everyone. ¡°See y¡¯all tomorrow!¡± ¡°Tomorrow?¡± Michael asked, having already forgotten why they came south in the first place. Sharon swung away from Old White Bill¡¯s embrace for just long enough to address Bill, ¡°Oh yes, we¡¯re coming back here to watch the race tomorrow.¡± ¡°Which race?¡± Michael asked. Old White Bill fingered the rim of his hat and pointed at the crowd. In reply, Everyone shouted, ¡°The Daytona 500!¡± Murder On The Base Ch 36 - The Daytona 500 (Ricochet) Duval Dirtbag Murder On The Base Chapter 36 - The Daytona 500 (Ricochet) Oh what the fuck is this? Finley bellowed in his mind palace. His eye twitched and he aggressively licked the crust at the corner of his mouth. He couldn¡¯t move his left leg and his right hand was numb. He shook the pins and needles from his hand and looked down at the bottom half of his body. He had been under a dog pile all night. Not a sexy one though. Like one of your earlier chapters. ??? No, not like one of the earlier chapters. The Pack had plenty of places to sit in Bill¡¯s mom¡¯s house, but while the living room and kitchen were voluminous, there weren¡¯t more than two bedrooms in the house. So some of them had to sleep on the floor. Being the gentleman that he was, Ssgt Remington had volunteered himself and Finley to the floor. So ¡°Princess¡± Fala could have a bed. I hope there wasn¡¯t a pea under the mattress. Boo hoo hoo-oow ow, Finley thought as he pried his foot from under one of Ssgt Remington¡¯s massive haunches. What are we doing today? Oh right. The race. Whooptyfuckin¡¯doo. If I wanted to watch a bunch of rednecks run in circles, I could be stationed at Fort Knox. Finley shook his left leg until some of the feeling came back. He hobbled to the kitchen island and found a bowl into which he could draw some water. My mouth is the Sahara. He thought as he eagerly tongued the bowl. Sharon entered the kitchen in a bright pink kimono with two orange, black, and white koi swimming circles around the front of it as though to help close the ornamental robe. At least someone else here is awake. Sharon smiled formally at Finley and poured some coffee from the time set pot. Ooh¡­coffee. Finley tipped the bowl into his mouth until it was empty and proffered the bowl toward Sharon. She looked at the bowl and then at Finley with distaste. He shivered and blinked nervously. Make with the coffee, bitch! Bill tramped sleepily into the kitchen. Where the hell did you sleep? Finley internally questioned, still holding out the bowl for coffee. Sharon didn¡¯t take her eyes off of Finley as Bill opened a cabinet and pulled down a coffee mug that was shaped like Darth Vader¡¯s helmet. ¡°I don¡¯t know that I trust this one, Willy.¡± ¡°He¡¯s fine, Mom,¡± Bill said nasally. ¡°He just wants some coffee.¡± With bleary eyes, Bill poured himself some coffee and then reached out to the bowl Finley was still holding. That¡¯s fuckin¡¯ right, pink dick. Finley nearly dropped the bowl but grabbed it with both hands to still the shaking. Bill emptied the pot into the bowl. ¡°Better make some more,¡± Bill honked. ¡°You know where it is,¡± Sharon almost sneered. Bill lolled his head back to his mother. He looked at her for a beat as if to say ¡°really?¡± but he didn¡¯t. He dropped his head a moment, took a sip of the hot beverage and went to another cabinet to grab more coffee, powdered creamer and the sugar. He swapped out the damp wad of spent grounds and filter and replaced it with a new one. He sprinkled more sugar than he should have into his coffee. He started to turn the top of the powdered creamer to open it, then thought to ask, ¡°Do we have any other creamer in the fridge?¡± ¡°I think Billy has some french vanilla in there,¡± Sharon sipped, ¡°But you know I like mine black.¡± Yeah, I bet. Finley burnt his tongue trying to sip the steaming beverage from his bowl. Shit! How? Bill saw Finley wince more than usual and pried open the refrigerator door. He grabbed the jug of french vanilla creamer and doused Finley¡¯s bowl. ¡°You want some sugar too?¡± Fuck yeah I do. FInley flapped his burnt tongue in front of his open mouth and shakily nodded his head. ¡°Yeah, you do. I gotchu buddy,¡± Bill said after splashing his own coffee with the cold creamer. He handed the plastic container labeled sugar over to Finley. I don¡¯t know about the others, but I appreciate you, motherfucker. Finley savored his flavored and sweetened coffee. The others got up over time and eventually made themselves ready to go watch the race. Finley rolled his eyes at each late, probably comfortable, riser. *** Wait¡­ Finley pressed his face against the rear passenger window of the Shil¡¯vati vehicle, this isn¡¯t the VFW we were at last night. This is something different. ¡°Hey Bill?¡± Michael asked aloud, ¡°Where are we going?¡± Bill was driving, as he was the only one familiar with the Daytona area. ¡°We¡¯re going to watch the race. You forget again?¡± ¡°Naw man, I just thought we were going back to the FTW,¡± Michael replied dumbly. ??? ¡°You mean the VFW?¡± Bill rolled his eyes. ¡°We¡¯re going to another place.¡± Bill repl¨Cdidn¡¯t fucking clarify. Excuse me for this break in narration. Hi, this is Wasted Hope, the author of this fanfic, speaking directly to you, Finley. Yes? I¡¯m trying to write a narration here, sir. Yes. Could you¡­like, not edit this document for me? Could you¡­like, fucking narrate what these idiots are doing accurately? I¡­I am. Fuck you, Wasted, I¡¯m taking over from here on out. ¡­ So anyway, turns out we didn¡¯t go back to the nest of empty nesters, we went to another community center. Sharon, the shitty host, had us drive out to the Filipino Community Center. Which was fucking awkward. And I¡¯m a psychotic shivering half-pint of a dog person, so think about how incredibly fucking awkward that must be. Bill walked us into what was clearly Sharon¡¯s domain. She was the queen in her queendom. No wonder she didn¡¯t want to serve me coffee. She doesn¡¯t serve others. I thought the Purple Bitches were bad, but Sharon could probably give them a run for their money. The Filipino Community Center was not dissimilar from the VFW but for the fact that it was newer. There was a modest foyer, office space, a gathering space and instead of a kitchenette there was an honest to goodness industrial sized kitchen. They were ready to feed an army. Even more than Sharon had done the first night we were there. There was a gigantic tv in the center of a fucking gymnasium. This community center had a real audi-gym-ateria feel to it. It was for sure a multi-purpose room. In the center of the room, tacked highest on the wall, was the flag of the Shil¡¯vati Imperium. What-the-fuck-ever, we all do what we have to do to keep the peace. Staggered downward was the American flag and down from that was the flag of the Philippines. Before things could really get going, the attendees had to sing the ¡°Shil¡¯vanti¡± Imperial Anthem, then the American National Anthem, then the National Anthem of the Philippines, Lupang Hinirang. I noticed that they did the USA song a little more wholeheartedly than the others, but they¡¯ll catch the fuck up eventually. The Shils will grind it into their bones. The Old Bill put his cap back on and crossed over the middle aisle of cafeteria tables to get a drink. Michael sat down across from Linnet, of course, and the others filled the rest of the seats at the table. Everyone seemed to stick to their own kind with the exception of Sharon, she floated like a butterfly between tables talking some sort of petty fucking small talk with everyone. Michael turned to Bill and pithily whined, ¡°So¡­we¡¯re going to watch these cars turn left for how long?¡± Bill had grabbed his own drink before he sat down, he took a swig and smiled, ¡°As long as it takes.¡± He gave Harley a wink. She didn¡¯t respond. Unconsciously, Finley said, ¡°Interesting.¡± ¡°You say something, Fin?¡± Michael asked. He thinks he can call me Fin, huh? Grrr. Finley shook his head negatively and shivered violently. ¡°Anyway,¡± the Idiot continued yammering, ¡°these cars don¡¯t look like I remember.¡± Bel¡¯a looked at the Idiot like he was an idiot. ¡°No, there¡¯s been a,¡± she hesitated, ¡°a change in management.¡± ¡°Are the cars floating!?!¡± The Idiot clabbered idiotically. Is ¡°idiot¡± the only insult you know, Finley? No. All the same, I¡¯m taking back over. Whatever. Old Bill leaned into Michael with his hand on his shoulder. ¡°Yeah, the Shil¡¯vanti took over, and it looks a little funny nowadays.¡± He chuckled, ¡°They started out as car-sized bricks until they figured out that long cubes aren¡¯t as aerodynamic as the NASCAR rigs so they shaved them down into more of a car shape.¡± If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Michael leaned back in his plastic seat, ¡°I should¡¯ve known from all the purple cars.¡± He stupidly leaned forward again, ¡°Where¡¯s the Wonder Bread car?¡± Tex, a veteran friend of Old Bill¡¯s, waved nonchalantly at the projection on the wall, ¡°Oh, Ah¡¯m sure Elliot¡¯sout ¡®ere some¡¯ere.¡± Tex was a leathery-skinned cuss who spoke with a heavy accent. He swirled his Corona before taking a big draw, the beer fell into his mouth like a hurricane. Fala folded her paws together, ¡°Bo Elliot has been the favorite since he won the Disappearing Derby.¡± ¡°The Disappearing Derby? What¡¯s that?¡± How dumb could this guy get? ¡°How long¡¯s it been since you watched NASCAR, son?¡± Tex asked. Michael stood up awkwardly, ¡°I guess it¡¯s been a while.¡± He turned to leave the table. ¡°I¡¯m going to get a drink. Save my seat!¡± Almost as soon as Michael had passed the end of the adjacent table, Old Bill sat down. He turned to Bill with a face more serious than he¡¯d given since the Pack had met him. ¡°Now, Willy, how well can we trust your Shil¡¯vanti friends?¡± He eyeballed the others who sat at the table. ¡°I¡¯m not sure what you mean, but¨C¡± Bill glanced anxiously at Fala and Harley, closing his eyes as if to shore up his resolve. ¡°Yes, you can trust them.¡± ¡°They are Rekeyri.¡± Old Bill gave the table a half nod. ¡°Another people subjugated by the Purple Bitches.¡± Fala winced as if in pain. Ssgt Remington saw her reaction and scowled. The rest of the table grumbled in halfway agreement. Old Bill inhaled harshly, ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s what I thought. Ok, so I talked to my people this morning after our meet up last night and assumed that y¡¯all seemed on the trolley, but I wanted to make sure for myself.¡± He twisted in what was Michael¡¯s seat to face the table squarely. ¡°We¡¯ve got some people on the pit crew. This race is going to make a statement. I think you will all appreciate it.¡± He locked eyes with everyone at the table individually, as if giving a conspiratorial handshake to them all. He only broke when Sharon walked by, ¡°Sharon, my love!¡± He smiled enthusiastically, all seriousness was wiped away from his expression. Sharon waved him toward her while also shushing him, ¡°Come over here, the Mendozas want to talk to you!¡± The old man got up creakily, but spryly followed her. Michael set himself down in ¡°his¡± seat that Old Bill had recently vacated. Food at center and drink to his right, Michael looked up at everyone, ¡°I miss anything?¡± Idiot. The table found themselves unable to meet his smile. Michael looked at Bill questioningly. Bill shrugged his shoulders in a ¡°I dunno¡± manner. Michael also shrugged his shoulders in an idiotic acceptance of the situation and started eating. The race had begun with what seemed to be an organized march of cars whizzing over the track in a uniform pattern, as if they¡¯d agreed to this formation in rehearsal. ¡°What¡¯s the shimmering happening on the edges of the track?¡± Michael asked between mouthfuls of chips and wings. ¡°That¡¯s the repulsors around the track,¡± Harley answered matter of factly. ¡°They keep the cars from floating up into the stands.¡± Linnet followed up, ¡°Yeah, there was a terrible accident a few years ago.¡± Fala continued, ¡°The owner of the only Human racing team, Greg Owens, was a racer back then. He flipped a car into the stands. It was awful.¡± Michael¡¯s eyes hadn¡¯t left Linnet¡¯s since she¡¯d been on this bandwagon of NASCAR cronies answering him as if he were the odd one out. ¡°Et tu Linnet?¡± Linnet¡¯s eyes widened, ¡°What? A girl can¡¯t get into racing?¡± Michael shook his head and looked down at his plate, ¡°No, no, I just didn¡¯t know how out of the loop I was.¡± No joke, Finley thought as he blinked involuntarily. The announcer mentioned something about the Human driver Bo Elliot thinking it was a good time to take a pit stop. The projector panned over to the Human pit stall. Michael made a double take, ¡°Is that Rachel!?!¡± He saw her angelic face under the Wonder Bread cap before he got confirmation from the reflective purple arm that was shown in the opening under the sleeve of her jumpsuit. She was deftly maneuvering a pneumatic drill along the back end of the vehicle, doing God knows what, then gave a quick thumbs up to the pit chief. ¡°She¡¯s got a thumb!¡± Michael exclaimed, mouth agape, ¡°not a hook!¡± Bill leaned toward Michael, ¡°Seems she got an upgrade.¡± ¡°She was so against it!¡± Michael wrinkled his face in confusion. ¡°Why would she do that?¡± Linnet pointed her plastic fork in Michael¡¯s direction, ¡°Maybe she saw how it turned you off and decided that boys like hands.¡± Michael blushed. ¡°Not everything¡¯s about me.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t always seem to know that,¡± Linnet prodded at her food. Trouble in paradise? Finley looked around the table. It seemed like not only had Fala and Harley gone cold with Bill, but Linnet wasn¡¯t looking at Michael with anime eyes anymore. Come to think of it, where did Michael and Linnet sleep last night? Finley thought. Before he could get much further in his deduction, a loud explosion came from the speakers. Everyone looked at the projection. The camera had been on the leading Shil¡¯vati vehicle, but the view switched to a more panoramic view from behind the rows of cars. Ahead of them in the oncoming turn, one of the posts that held the repulsors in place had exploded forward onto the track, the fusion of the combined repulsors down on to the track was disrupted and caused the broken post to launch up and out of the stadium in an arc that flew parallel to the stands. The onlookers who could be seen on the projection above the smoke of the initial explosion all ducked in fear. Soon the next post blew up. Then the next and another final explosion sent shockwaves through the stands. The timing of the explosions and the disruption of the repulsors¡¯ force caused the posts to erupt from their mooring in increasingly shallow angles. The second post impaled the spectators who hadn¡¯t moved out of the way all the way up and out of the stadium. The third flew directly into the middle of the stands making an impact crater that took out everyone in a 12 feet radius until it buried itself halfway up the rows. It was unclear how deep it had gone from the projector, but the damage was palpable. The fourth repulsor post shot directly backwards from where it stood between the track and the stands. The racers tried to veer away from the turn, a few of the leading cars managed to successfully, though their overcorrection caused them to run into the lee side of the track at a perpendicular angle, they were mostly stopped in their tracks and repulsed back down to the ground. The speed of their cars was met equally with the repulsing force from the still standing posts. These cars ricocheted backward; their elevators didn¡¯t factor in the driver¡¯s avoidance of the inevitable accident. Turns out, this ricocheting of forces shot them backwards from the wall, down to the ground then up off of the ground with roughly equivalent force. These cars launched backward up and out of the protective dome the repulsors provided. However, the repulsors only covered so much of the airspace above the track. The center of which was completely uncovered. These cars shot at racing speeds above the infield and into the opposite stands. Four cars in total became weaponized. Helpless drivers, who thought they were doing the right thing by avoiding the hole in the repulsors, were actually being used as ammunition in what was a planned attack. The following cars erupted predictably into the stands. Cars in between the inside and outside lanes of the track had nowhere to go but up. Floating purple plasteel shaved the tops of the stands from the opening left by the missing repulsors from the track all the way up the seating and out to the surrounding parking lot. The only cars left on the field were the leading Shil¡¯vati vehicle who could see what was happening without a car floating in front of them and was going fast enough to stay on the track and the number Three car. Bo Elliot had entered the traffic after the pit stop, but wasn¡¯t going fast enough to get caught up in the lemming race out of the Daytona International Speedway. Finley looked at the carnage on the projector. There were screams from people in the community center. Then there were cheers. The cheers were led by Old Bill who had removed his hat and was waving it around. ¡°Take that Shil¡¯vanti whores!¡± Finley¡¯s shaking stopped. He was overjoyed! His tongue lolled out of his mouth as he panted with excitement. Old Bill pointed at Finley, ¡°I knew you¡¯d enjoy it you little rat bastard!¡± Finley was so caught up in his joy that he hadn¡¯t noticed the rest of the Pack staring at him aghast. A shrill sound that Finley had been hearing since the explosions started died down. It was his own voice. ¡°What the fuck was that!?!¡± Michael exclaimed. Old Bill clapped his hat back on his head and replied, ¡°Payback, my boy!¡± ¡°Are you kidding?!¡± ¡°Look around you, son, what do you see?¡± Michael saw a room full of people of various ages and colors, a motley crew of Rakiri with an array of reactions: from Ssgt Remington¡¯s look of horror to Finley¡¯s panting, drooling, shrieking excitement. He started to recognize the faces of the veterans he¡¯d seen the night before, showing yellowing teeth in broad smiles under red caps. Michael hadn¡¯t paid attention to what Old Bill¡¯s cap had said until now. He¡¯d tried to ignore it. But unconsciously, he knew what it was; it was a banner that people had taken up signaling a desire to return to how things were, before the invasion. They¡¯d seen many things as political problems before, that Michael thought were piddling semantic issues,l that had never had any impact on him. Now he saw just how wrong he was. He also saw that Fala was taking inventory as well. He saw her initial utter shock dissolve into recognition of a plot. It was subtle and it went away when she saw that he¡¯d seen it. ¡°I acknowledge that you ¨C all of you ¨C have been wonderful hosts and shown us all a great deal of hospitality. And I know that you took great pains to make sure that we¡¯d all be on board with this¡­fucking atrocity that you¡¯ve set up here. I don¡¯t know that we are.¡± Michael looked around at the Pack nervously, suddenly unsure of where he stood. ¡°Speak for yourself.¡± Fala said calmly. ¡°Yeah, speak for yourself.¡± Finley echoed. Michael almost tripped over himself standing up. ¡°So, what? We¡¯re onboard with killing innocent people?¡± ¡°Michael, take it easy,¡± Old Bill held his hands up to Michael. ¡°It¡¯s collateral damage. Can¡¯t you see that all of those people who bought tickets from the Shil¡¯vanti were funding the enemy? Because for sure, the Shil¡¯vanti are the enemy.¡± Michael thought about Serca. He thought about Joph¡¯rena. He thought about Pennar¡¯dun. So far, his experience with the actual Shils was hard to paint in a happy light. Old Bill saw Michael wrapping his head around what he¡¯d said so far. ¡°Look at your Pack, Michael, and take a look at yourself.¡± He paused for dramatic effect, ¡°We¡¯re all victims here. Even you.¡± ¡°And that¡¯s what victims should do? Retaliate?¡± Old Bill smiled slyly. ¡°Sometimes newcomers need a nudge to remind them who came first.¡± ¡°This was more than a nudge!¡± Bill stood up beside Michael. Michael was immediately relieved to see that someone was going to back him up. He¡¯d been looking at Linnet desperately, but so far she had not reciprocated. She saw her Alpha agreeing with what was going on, Fala was the leader and Linnet was going to follow her through what flames may come. ¡°Oh come on, you¡¯ve been at war, Willy! And we¡¯ve only seen hell on one planet,¡± Old Bill pointed at the ground then swept his arms around the room. ¡°These monsters have swept up entire species into their war machine; their ¡®Imperium¡¯.¡± Michael thought back to the pit crew. ¡°And you found a stooley to carry out your plans for you. How¡¯d you get Rachel into this?¡± ¡°Oh, it was her idea. She¡¯d been wanting to strike back at the Shil¡¯vanti for a long time and didn¡¯t have anyone with the know-how and munitions lying around to fulfill her vision. Turns out, there¡¯s a lot more people out there who think like her.¡± Old Bill flicked the bill of his cap. ¡°And with a firebrand like her there will be more.¡± ¡°Fuck this,¡± Bill said, impulsively grabbing Finley by the arm, ¡°C¡¯mon, let¡¯s get out of here!¡± Bill¡¯s instinct to grab the smallest of the Pack turned out to be a bad idea. He felt the pressure of the impact on his arm before he saw the blade poking out of the top of his forearm. He looked down as Finley let go of the hilt. ¡°DON¡¯T touch me!¡± Finley gasped. His eyes blazed in laser focus on Bill. His body was perfectly still. The grotesque sight of the knife through Bill¡¯s arm caused him to involuntarily lick his lips. I wish I had my golden mouthpiece, Finley thought to himself before being able to tell if he¡¯d said that out loud or not. He started looking around. His nearly bulging eyes darted between members of the Pack. He tried to right his ship, ¡°I, I, I-I don¡¯t like to be touched like that.¡± Ssgt. Remington lurched forward to comfort Finley. Fala shushed Finley¡¯s stuttering. Bill took a half step back when he saw Remy coming forward. The knife shuttered in place and he felt a trill of pain ride lightning to his fingertips and back up his shoulder. ¡°Your first fucking reaction to being grabbed is to stab who¡¯s grabbing you?¡± Michael accused. Finley bared his teeth at Michael. Ssgt. Remington lifted Finley so that he¡¯d put himself between Michael and Finley. ¡°We all react differently when threatened.¡± Remy said to Michael but into Finley¡¯s face. Finley sheathed his teeth for the most part, but still directed a snarl at Michael¡¯s general direction. Michael stepped toward Bill and got a good look at the knife. Bill turned his arm so that they could see the pommel. There were the eight rays of the sun looking back at him. Their eyes met with recognition. His arm was aflame but so was his heart and his face. ¡°Bad Karma.¡± He whispered to Michael. ¡°This dumb bitch just stabbed me with my own Goddamn knife!¡± Murder On The Base Ch 37 - Pin the Tail on the Billy (Holy Shit!) Duval Dirtbag Murder On The Base Chapter 37 - Pin the Tail on the Billy (Holy Shit!) There was a collective Holy Shit! from the assembly. Bill¡¯s own knife was poking straight through his forearm. Finley had struck from below so the blade pointed up in a way that if Bill were to look at a watch on that arm, he could have stabbed himself further by accident. He turned his arm so that he could see the pommel, shown briefly before a rivulet of blood could cover it shown the Star of the Philippines. Finley wiggled away from Ssgt. Remington and skittered over to Fala. Her mouth was agape. There was a short but rich storm of emotions that plagued her face. She settled on deciding she should offer help. ¡°Bill, don¡¯t take that thing out. We¡¯ve got to get you to a hospital!¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± Bill noted with steely calm, ¡°I figured that much.¡± ¡°Hang on, I¡¯ve got something.¡± Fala reached into her bag. Linnet and Bel¡¯a were in each other''s arms in shock. They both looked at Finley who defaulted to standing nearer to Ssgt Remington while Harley still stood off to the side. Finley was crouched in a defensive position but had a stillness that Michael had never seen him have before. Finley looked relaxed. He noticed Bill¡¯s blood on his tan hand and drew it unconsciously to his mouth. He licked the blood and shivered in a new way to Michael. A shiver of pleasure? Michael cringed. Bill¡¯s mom, Sharon, made moves to a hallway bathroom, ¡°I¡¯ll get you some gauze and some iodine!¡± but Fala stopped her before she got that far. Bill gave a breathy grunt hearing his mother mention iodine. ¡°No need, Sharon, I keep a first aid kit in my bag.¡± Fala reassured Sharon, straightening the older woman to a more stable stance after almost knocking her over. Still Sharon ran to fetch the iodine. Bill grumbled under his breath. He held his hand under his forearm to keep more blood from spilling on the carpet. He had the presence of mind to step backward to the bar sink. Old White Bill swept around the bar and started to turn on the hot water. He grabbed a towel that was mostly white with koi fish who swam at the milky ends. ¡°No! For God''s sake, don¡¯t use that towel!¡± Bill shrieked with more horror than when he¡¯d been stabbed, ¡°That looks like one of Mom¡¯s towels. I bet she donated some to the Community Center. There¡¯s got to be something else we can use!¡± Michael had been standing aside, trying to stay out of the way, but grabbed a red napkin from a nearby table, emptied the clean utensils and tossed it to the elder Bill. Old White Bill caught it and swiped it under the steaming water. Bill glared at him, almost daring him to touch him with it before he grabbed it out of the elder Bill¡¯s hand. He started to dab at the base of the wound. Fala came forward and mostly approved of the work being done. Bill looked at Fala with a half glare, half pleading look, ¡°Don¡¯t use the iodine.¡± ¡°Goddess, what is this, the Dark Ages? No, of course not.¡± Fala procured an aerosol bottle and sprayed it on the underside of Bill¡¯s arm. It foamed up even as she turned Bill¡¯s arm to spray the top of his wound. The foam kept the knife and the blood in place. When she was satisfied that it had cured, she stepped back. Bill gave his arm a little wiggle, ¡°That sucker ain¡¯t goin¡¯ nowhere.¡± ¡°But you still need to get to a medical professional. You can¡¯t just keep a knife in your forearm for the rest of your life.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know, it¡¯s kind of badass.¡± Bill smirked though the wiggling had made the pain in his arm known. ¡°I¡¯m kind of like a reverse Batman, you know?¡± He took a swipe at the air with his Batman arm and immediately regretted it. Michael weakly smirked back at Bill. ¡°Where do we go? I don¡¯t know Daytona.¡± ¡°We¡¯ll figure it out. I¡¯ve got the keys.¡± Bill glared at Finley, who simply glared back, no shivering Michael noted. ¡°I¡¯mma let you drive though.¡± ¡°Um, ok.¡± Michael agreed hesitantly. ¡°Oh Willy, I¡¯ve got the iodine!¡± Sharon called bopping back into the cafegymatorium where the assembly had been watching the race. ¡°No thanks, Mom, we¡¯ve got it taken care of. We¡¯re going to have to go a little earlier than planned.¡± Bill gave her a side hug with his unarmed arm. ¡°Everyone?¡± Sharon¡¯s eyes widened eagerly. ¡°I¡¯m not sure about everyone.¡± Michael squinted at Finley then softened his eyes at Sharon, ¡°And I don¡¯t know how long this will take, but we¡¯ve got to get this taken care of, Mrs. Zornosa.¡± Bill¡¯s lips popped when he said, ¡°Welp, time to go.¡± He pointed to the front exit. ¡°Anyone who¡¯s coming needs to come on.¡± The Pack looked to Fala. She slowly recoiled away from Bill. She looked at Old Man Bill and said, ¡°I think I want to hear what Bill has to say.¡± The old man whistled shrilly and gave Bill finger pistols, ¡°See you later, Slick.¡± Michael looked at Linnet. Linnet met his eyes, then turned to Fala as if to say that she was going to stay with Fala. She was, after all, her queen. Michael¡¯s expression slacked then hardened into a flat determination. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡± Bill and Michael strode from the Filipino Community Center to the big Shil¡¯vati vehicle like the Reservoir Dogs leaving the restaurant. *** ¡°MIKEY GET ME TO THE HOSPITAL! HOLY SHIT THIS HURTS!¡± Bill wailed. ¡°Right! Right! Of course!¡± Michael squealed, ¡°Which way do I go?¡± ¡°Turn right here! Then left, get on that main road and keep going!¡± ¡°Shit man, I know it hurts, but like, what does it feel like?¡± ¡°Ya know, once the shock that that chihuahua looking motherfucker stabbed me subsided, it really fucking burned.¡± ¡°Did that spray help?¡± Michael proffered. ¡°It helps where Fala sprayed, but there¡¯s a lot of blade in here.¡± Bill flexed his fingers, ¡°I can still feel my fingers, so I¡¯ve got that goin¡¯ for me.¡± Michael drove forward, barely noticed the change in the road, but he saw the dashboard get brighter; ¡°Oh dude, look, we must be back on the Shil¡¯vati grid because we¡¯re charging again.¡± ¡°Good thing, this might take a while.¡± Bill pointed in the direction of what looked like a hospital. There was a steady stream of ambulances queued up under the Emergency Department signage and doors. ¡°Oh shit man, the people from the race¡­¡± Michael slapped the steering wheel, ¡°Shit! What do we do now?¡± Bill started to pound the dashboard with his right fist and pulled it in time to not jar the knife in his arm. He looked at the knife again. ¡°Dude, this is the knife that was used for the murder on the base. We gotta get this thing back home.¡± ¡°Can you tolerate it that long?¡± ¡°I¡¯m going to wait in this line at the ER as long as it will take me to get back to the base at Jax.¡± He held his arm up to show Michael, ¡°And who¡¯s going to suspect me of murder using my own knife that¡¯s through my own arm?¡± ¡°Pretty compelling argument in my book.¡± Bill spoke gravelly, ¡°To the Batcave!¡± *** Once they were through the gate, Michael drove straight for their office. They tore through the door and interrupted Joph¡¯rena¡¯s current interview. ¡°JOPH¡¯RENA, WE NEED YOUR HELP!¡± Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. Joph¡¯rena dismissed her interviewee and led Bill in the office to his desk and stretched his arm across his own desk. ¡°This is the knife that killed the soldier a few nights ago.¡± ¡°It is.¡± Michael confirmed. ¡°It¡¯s mine.¡± Bill stated. Joph¡¯rena twisted her tusk, ¡°So it is.¡± She squinted at Bill. ¡°Why is it in your arm?¡± Bill balked, ¡°I didn¡¯t put it in there, bitch!¡± ¡°No, bitch, it¡¯s supposed to be in our evidence locker.¡± Joph¡¯rena pointed out the door. Bill growled. ¡°Take it up with Finley! He¡¯s the one who stabbed me with it!¡± Joph¡¯rena¡¯s eyes widened like saucers, ¡°Finley?¡± She pulled out her omnipad and started swiping through files. Michael looked between Joph¡¯rena¡¯s hot pursuit and Bill flexing his hand. ¡°Could we get Bill seen by someone while you do your thing here?¡± ¡°Oh,¡± Joph¡¯rena took a cursory glance at the knife still in Bill¡¯s arm, ¡°Sure.¡± She led the way out the door and yelled, ¡°Medic!¡± She turned back to Michael and Bill and said, ¡°I already called for the medic on my omnipad, but I wanted you two to think I did it with urgency since pressing a button didn¡¯t seem to garner your respect.¡± She looked up at Michael and asked snidely, ¡°Where¡¯s the rest of the ¡®Pack¡¯?¡± Michael rolled his eyes at Joph¡¯rena. ¡°Finley stabbed Bill and we kinda ran.¡± ¡°And left them in Daytona?¡± Joph¡¯rena asked menacingly. ¡°After that terrorist attack?¡± ¡°How do you know it was a terrorist attack?¡± Michael asked. ¡°Parts of the track don¡¯t randomly blow up exposing the patrons of the race to flying cars on purpose, Michael.¡± A medic was already rolling up to meet them when they picked up their pace a little bit after the yelling. They grabbed Bill under his hand and elbow and led him to the back of their odd purple metal golf cart cube. Bill inquired, ¡°Can I get a cool cyborg arm like Luke Skywalker?¡± ¡°For this?¡± the medic asked. Bill nodded his head. ¡°And could we put a cool like, vibrator function in it?¡± One of the two medics who helped him onto a seat that spun out of the back of the metal cart looked skeptically at the other. ¡°You know, like a deep tissue gun for my sore muscles?¡± The other medic pulled out an aerosol can from a compartment in the side of the cart. ¡°I don¡¯t know that this is that serious.¡± Michael pointed out, ¡°Fala already sprayed that stuff on him back in Daytona.¡± Joph¡¯rena looked up from her frantic swiping, ¡°You two were in Daytona?¡± ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s where my mom lives. We took a little¨C¡± Bill winced as the spray covered his arm. ¡°Hey! That burns!¡± The medic responded, ¡°It¡¯s removing the aforementioned spray.¡± They kept spraying. ¡°That was to seal the wound. This is to remove that poultice so that we can properly get the knife out.¡± ¡°Hmm,¡± Bill grimaced. ¡°So how bad is it, doc?¡± The medic wiped down the mix of chemicals off of both sides of the knife before answering with a brief, ¡°Well¡­¡± She then pulled out a syringe gun from another compartment in the cart. She prodded Bill a few times on both sides of his arm, injecting some unknown substance. ¡°Sorry if this stings, but you¡¯ll appreciate it on the other side of this injury.¡± She then nodded at the other medic who placed her hands firmly on Bill¡¯s hand and elbow. ¡°On three?¡± she asked as she held Bill¡¯s wrist and grabbed the hilt of the knife. ¡°Oh shit.¡± Bill whispered. He glanced over at Michael and Joph¡¯rena. Michael tensed up. Joph¡¯rena tapped on her omnipad absently. ¡°One.¡± Bill tensed. The medic continued, ¡°Two.¡± Then without any more preamble, she pulled the knife out of Bill¡¯s arm. Michael turned away. ¡°Waaah!¡± Bill gasped, ¡°What happened to three?¡± Michael whined, ¡°What happened to threeeee!¡± The medics looked at Joph¡¯rena. They merely shrugged at one another. ¡°That¡¯ll do?¡± Joph¡¯rena asked them directly. ¡°It¡¯ll burn, but it¡¯ll do.¡± the medic replied and handed the knife to Joph¡¯rena. She then turned to Bill. ¡°It¡¯s going to burn for a while, but that¡¯s just the nanites stitching you back together internally.¡± ¡°Nanites!?¡± Bill shrieked. ¡°Oh, don¡¯t be silly,¡± Joph¡¯rena scoffed, ¡°I¡¯m sure it¡¯s calibrated for Humans and not Shil¡¯vati.¡± She turned to the medics, ¡°Right?¡± She tweaked her tusk cheekily. Michael squinted at Joph¡¯rena and the two Shil¡¯vati medics who towered over him and more so over Bill. They laughed together a little too much. ¡°I¡¯m sure it¡¯s fine.¡± She chided. She then waved off the medics so she could return to business that seemed more pressing to her. ¡°Come on back inside.¡± Bill repeated, ¡°Nanites?¡± As Joph¡¯rena led the other two back into their office, she tried to ease the burn of her teasing, ¡°It¡¯s fine. Think of them as little medical residents who will go in and fix whatever¡¯s the matter with you. In this case, your arm.¡± Michael scrunched his face at that, pondering what ¡°fixing whatever¡¯s the matter¡± could really mean. Bill watched his arm seemingly seal itself, he whispered ¡°Mother. Fucking. Nanites.¡± Joph¡¯rena moved on, ¡°Finley had your knife, you say?¡± She pressed into a hidden panel that had gone unnoticed by Michael in the seemingly solid wall behind his and Bill¡¯s desks and slid it aside. She pressed a button that dropped a wedge containing a lens that pointed to the opposite wall. After a moment, a light projected from the lens she then made a grabbing gesture over her omnipad and flicked her hand toward the light projecting on the opposite wall as though she were throwing seeds like an ancient farmer. It became obvious that she was sharing the information from her omnipad through the projector onto their office wall and controlling it from her omnipad. ¡°Yeah,¡± Bill replied, still pressing on his injured forearm. ¡°He must¡¯ve swiped it when the Pack helped us move onto base. Or when I was unpacking. Or packing? Hell, I don''t know at this point.¡± ¡°So that¡¯s how he got it to use it to kill the patrolwoman.¡± Joph¡¯rena flipped through pictures of the murder scene. Michael didn¡¯t care for images of an actual dead body. He mentally held his hands up, but kept them down physically, let¡¯s hope I don¡¯t have nightmares about this, he thought. Joph¡¯rena held up Bill¡¯s KBAR to compare the blade in her hands with the one projected in monster size on the opposite wall. ¡°Same knife.¡± She looked over at Bill. ¡°Your knife?¡± ¡°Mine.¡± Bill finally let go of his arm. ¡°It was a gift from my mother.¡± ¡°How sweet.¡± Joph¡¯rena clucked. Michael thought back to his time these past few days. ¡°Your mom kind of is the glue of the Filipino community in Daytona. She give you that as a protection charm or something?¡± Bill shrugged, ¡°You say ¡®charm¡¯ as if it¡¯s some kind of Ugga Bugga.¡± He fidgeted with his arm a little more, ¡°I don¡¯t know. Maybe it¡¯s some kind of a reminder of where we came from. But I was born here. So that part of me, I¡¯ve kind of let go.¡± ¡°What we expect you all to do as you become a part of the Imperium.¡± Joph¡¯rena said plaintively. ¡°Mmm,¡± Michael intoned. Joph¡¯rena swiped to a picture of Finley. ¡°Finley does inventory at the evidence locker, so he would have access to the knife and likely would be able to keep anyone from knowing it wasn¡¯t there.¡± ¡°Except that it was in my fucking arm.¡± ¡°Except that it was in your fucking arm. Good thinking to keep it there. We¡¯ve got plenty of film, I¡¯m sure, of how you kept it holstered: through the gate, onto base, in this office.¡± Holstered. Michael thought in horror. Jesus. ¡°Did you think it was me who killed the patrolwoman?¡± ¡°We couldn¡¯t rule you out.¡± Joph¡¯rena admitted. ¡°It was your knife. The possibility was there.¡± ¡°But you let me go.¡± Bill pondered out loud. Joph¡¯rena echoed, ¡°We let you go.¡± Michael¡¯s mind raced. ¡°It could have been Bill, but you think you¡¯ve got a bigger fish on the line¡­¡± Joph¡¯rena just smiled. Michael continued to think aloud, ¡°You think someone in the Pack is the rebel.¡± Bill and Michael looked at Bill¡¯s arm, then each other then at Joph¡¯rena and all three said together, ¡°Finley.¡± ¡°Well fuck, what do we do?¡± Michael asked exasperatedly. Bill exclaimed, ¡°Let¡¯s go get them!¡± ¡°Yes.¡± Joph¡¯rena practically purred. ¡°Look,¡± Michael interjected, ¡°Finley¡¯s the ¡®bad guy¡¯ here. He killed the patrolwoman. He stole the knife. Twice! And he stabbed Bill.¡± ¡°It¡¯s likely that he¡¯s committed a dozen other crimes. We¡¯ll have to comb through the inventory to see what else is missing.¡± Joph¡¯rena added. Michael couldn¡¯t help himself but to say, ¡°You know how we left the Pack at Daytona?¡± ¡°Yes, we were interrupted by Bill¡¯s boo boo. What were you saying?¡± Joph¡¯rena urged Michael to continue. While twiddling his two pointer fingers, Michael did continue. ¡°So it turns out that Bill¡¯s mom¡¯s boyfriend Bill is kind of connected with Rachel.¡± ¡°So Bill¡¯s mom is sleeping with a Human rebel who is helping the rebel that you slept with and they¡¯ve committed a terrorist act and they have a rebel from a faction already rebelling against the Imperium?¡± Joph¡¯rena summarized. ¡°Yes?¡± Michael said in a high pitch. Joph¡¯rena waved her hand, closing the projection and pressed the buttons on the wall to turn off the projector. ¡°Ok, explain it to me again on our way to Daytona.¡± ¡°We¡¯re going right now?¡± Michael gasped, ¡°We just got back here.¡± Joph¡¯rena smirked at him and led the way out of the office. ¡°This time, we¡¯re going in style.¡± She started walking toward a bay of big purple Shil¡¯vati space bricks. Murder On The Base Ch 38 - To Catch a Murderer (You鈥檙e Insured) Duval Dirtbag Murder On The Base Chapter 38 - To Catch a Murderer (You¡¯re Insured) Style was, of course, a subjective opinion. For instance, the vehicles that Michael grew up watching every Sunday when his father truly took over the TV were very fast. Formula One cars looked like sharks, or bullets, on wheels. NASCAR cars looked like cookie cutter copies of cars that one could see on the highway or a car show; though Michael knew that was only the outside. Besides the types of cars, the races themselves were dynamically different. Formula One tracks were dynamically shaped with sharp curves and nearly complete circles within the track itself. As well as straight-a-ways where the engines could really show off. And rarely did the drivers seem to turn the wheel. The speed at which they were traveling could not physically allow for the kind of steering wheel action that one saw on car chases in movies. In NASCAR, you mostly turned left. Michael had a preference. But his father did not. Dad watched it all: Formula One, NASCAR, drag racing, funny car racing. That was what Sundays were, just watching Dad watch racing. Other dads watched golf. That was their style. Stylistically, the new floating racers looked, to Michael, at worst like PT Cruisers; at best like Plymouth Prowlers, a discontinued hot rod-looking car from way before the Shil¡¯vati invasion. Either way, not really Michael¡¯s style. Michael could appreciate different kinds of cars, but they weren¡¯t necessarily a part of his aesthetic. What he needed from a car was something that could get him to and from work. So when he found himself inside a Shil¡¯vati spaceship, the fact that it looked like a shiny purple brick didn¡¯t matter to him. That it was going to get him from the base in Jacksonville to Daytona faster than how he and Bill had made the return trip was awesome. Sure, there were bells and whistles and screens and buttons and readouts and obvious controlling mechanisms; Michael still felt like a kid in the backseat watching adults driving. There¡¯s no way I could even reach the pedals! He thought in a mix of amusement and frustration. The average Shil¡¯vati was seven feet tall. Michael was the American average of five nine. He chuckled to himself imagining Bill¡¯s even shorter Filipino frame jumping up to try to grab levers that the Shil¡¯vati pilot reached with ease. Bill was strapped in beside Michael. Their seats didn¡¯t seem like a part of the crew compartment. You know how you can drive through town and see offices that previously served another purpose? Say it¡¯s an office where you could get help filing your taxes but you can tell it used to be a Pizza Hut. They were in seats that sat them easily, but this clearly used to be a holding cell for captives unlucky enough to get snatched by the Imperium¡¯s claws. Stains of various hues of blood left their indelible mark. Michael tried not to think about it. Bill helped distract Michael: he looked like a kid in a candy shop. His eyes were bright and tried to absorb everything. His smile was agape with wonder. His nose was wet. Well, that was exaggeration, but Michael imagined that Bill''s expression was the human equivalent to a dog hanging its head out of the car window on a Sunday drive. Michael had time for these musings as their ship went up through the troposphere. The thinning atmosphere revealed an ominous number of shining purple specks of light in the distance and not so distance. Michael¡¯s stomach sank while thinking, Lord, how many of them were there? Outright rebellion was ridiculous. Nothing could withstand the shear numerical¨Clet alone technological¨Csuperiority of the Shil¡¯vati. This was the first time that Michael recognized the depth the word ¡°Imperium¡± held. And this was just on Earth. There¡¯s no telling how many ships would orbit a planet more established within the Imperium. Michael¡¯s stomach rose then as the Shil¡¯vati ship started its descent toward Daytona. This was completely psychosomatic, as the Shil¡¯vati tech adjusted pressures within the ship so that no passenger ought to be affected. But Michael had been on the Hellevator before and knew what this was supposed to feel like. On his seat¡¯s armrest was a handle with a knob on top, like an upright dumbbell. He grabbed on for dear life. His hand was met with another. He shared an armrest with Bill. They both seemed to be having the same reaction. They met eyes for a fraction of a second and then both gripped harder. Gradually, they descended to the street in front of Sharon¡¯s house. Joph¡¯rena marched toward the front door. Bill followed as fast as he could behind her. Michael lagged behind, thanking the ground for it¡¯s solidity. ¡°Hey! You can¡¯t just knock the door down!¡± Bill protested, still trying to get ahead of Joph¡¯rena though her strides easily out measured his. ¡°This is a military investigation.¡± Joph¡¯rena replied nonplussed by Bill¡¯s protestations. ¡°I¡¯ll do what I have to do.¡± Michael looked up, ¡°Meet in the middle, knock on the door like the damn po lease.¡± ¡°I am the police.¡± Joph¡¯rena grinned. ¡°Imperial police.¡± She then proceeded to knock on the door vigorously. There was a deliberate time between the onset of the knocking and the door opening a taut chain lock¡¯s distance. Sharon called out in an oddly sing-song voice, ¡°Do you have a warrant?¡± Michael asked ignorantly, ¡°Jeez, how many times have the cops come to your door?¡± ¡°I guess you grew up WASP.¡± Bill replied snarkily, ¡°Sit down, Pale Face.¡± Old White Bill popped up behind Sharon, ¡°Or when a goddamn Shil¡¯vati ship lands in your front yard, protocol comes to the forefront of one¡¯s mind.¡± Bill turned back to the door, ¡°Mom, we need to talk to the Pack, are they still here?¡± Fala poked her head into view at a window along the frame of the door. ¡°Yes, we¡¯re here.¡± Michael mumbled to himself, ¡°You had from the time we left for a hospital, then drove to Jax, then to get back here¨Cwhich was, admittedly, faster¨Cbut you all chose to hide out at Sharon¡¯s house?¡± Joph¡¯rena got back to business. ¡°Fala! Let me in, we need to talk.¡± Fala gave it a moment¡¯s consideration. She put a hand on Sharon¡¯s shoulder, ¡°Very well. Will you give me your word that no harm will come to myself or anyone else in this house?¡± ¡°I can make no such promise,¡± Joph¡¯rena twisted her tusk and replied, ¡°But I will do my best.¡± Fala and Sharon shrugged at each other. ¡°I guess that¡¯s the best we can get.¡± They then let Joph¡¯rena, Bill and Michael into the house. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. The Pack sat in an array that began with Ssgt. Remington on the left and ended with Finley on the right. Fala scooted herself into the center of the farthest most couch so that she had Harley and Linnet flanking her. Bel¡¯a stood between couches nearer to Ssgt. Remmington. They had cushioned their Princess in layers of protection. Sharon, meanwhile, attended something in the kitchen. Old White Bill sat himself in the breakfast nook and opened a newspaper. Bill stood to Joph¡¯rena¡¯s right as she stood facing the Pack so that he was between them and his mother. Michael stood to Joph¡¯rena¡¯s left. Joph¡¯rena addressed the crowd, ¡°You all aren¡¯t technically AWOL, as it¡¯s been less than five business days, but know if you choose to set up camp here in Daytona after that time it will be a court marshallable offense.¡± She twisted her tusk as was her habit when being dramatic. ¡°I doubt that you all will do that when you hear what I have to say to you.¡± She drew up her omnipad quick enough to make Linnet flinch. She tried to grab and fling the display up to a wall out of habit and failed miserably. She grumbled and turned her small screen to the Pack and continued. ¡°As you all know, the Imperium is wrought with various intergalactic adversaries-trading partners: the Consortium and the Alliance. As well as various pirate groups who prey on our trade lines. ¡°Sometimes we are able to anticipate such attacks and are able to turn the tables, as was the case with the bounty of slugs we were able to consume recently.¡± Joph¡¯rena held for a moment to savor her memory before she continued. ¡°At other times, however, they remain a thorn in our side. One such thorn is the Armed Aurums.¡± Ssgt. Remington growled throatily. Joph¡¯rena looked directly at Remy, ¡°Yes. Those pirates.¡± She then turned to the Pack who also had their ears bent backward in irritation. ¡°We have long suffered their attacks. They are small scale in the grand scheme of things but I know from your files and the files compiled by our friends Michael and Bill here, that they have had a particular impact on your¡­¡± Joph¡¯rena fumbled for the right word, ¡°crew, as it were.¡± ¡°I have been tasked with finding any lingering vestiges of the Aurums as the higher ups have narrowed the likely suspects down to our duty station. Lucky for me, I was able to delegate the menial task of combing through the company to these two. ¡°For whatever reason, when I interview people outside of the Shil¡¯vati members, you all hold out on the details. But given neutral parties like Michael and Bill here, you all pour your hearts out.¡± Michael frowned at that particular delivery, but Joph¡¯rena continued. ¡°And I had my suspicions but when Bill showed up on the base skewered by his own knife¡ªthe weapon used in the murder on the base, I knew who I was looking for at last.¡± Ssgt. Remington clenched his fists and demanded. ¡°Who?¡± Finley¡¯s shaking had been fine tuning itself to a steady tremor the further into her explanation Joph¡¯rena went. He sprang into action at the sound of Remy¡¯s yelling question. He left a Finley-shaped cloud of dust leaving the living room and heading straight to the garage. Bill had positioned himself to intercept but found himself in no condition to catch Finley, let alone hold him if he¡¯d caught him with his recently stabbed arm. ¡°Dammit!¡± He cried. Ssgt. Remington¡¯s fists and jaw opened in shock having seen Finley bolt from the room. ¡°What?¡± Joph¡¯rena didn¡¯t budge. Bill¡¯s hands slipped uselessly on the now locked door to the garage. ¡°Dammit!¡± was the balm he applied to this new failure in his plans. Michael saw that that was a dead end, so he started toward the front door. Old White Bill happened to be getting up at the same time and bungled Michael¡¯s attempt to get to the front door by walking the same way while pretending to read his newspaper. Old White Bill smiled slightly exclaiming over dramatically, ¡°Oh, pardon me young man!¡± Michael glared at him in frustration before looking out the window along the door frame to see Finley speeding off in a metallic orange Corvette. Its sleek angles glinted brightly in the sun as it sped out of the driveway and onto the main road of the neighborhood. Ssgt. Remington quavered, ¡°He¡¯s been an Armed Aurum this whole time!?¡± The roar of the car held Joph¡¯rena from answering immediately, ¡°We haven¡¯t pinpointed when exactly he came into the Aurums¡¯ fold, but we¡¯ll get it out of him eventually.¡± There was a high pitched squealing sound of tires slipping on pavement followed shortly by the heart wrenching sound of metal crunching. Joph¡¯rena chuckled, ¡°Oh, well that was quick. I had this whole plan for low orbit ships to monitor the neighborhood if he thought he could slip away from us again. Ships. Drones. Heat seeker cameras. Just, a whole plethora of equipment aimed at this house, at the ready¡­¡± ¡°Goddammit!¡± Old White Bill snarled. ¡°My beautiful baby!¡± Joph¡¯rena sighed, ¡°...For him to just fuck it up and wreck a sports car before he got out of the neighborhood.¡± ¡°Oh calm down, Bill,¡± Sharon pooh poohed Old White Bill¡¯s lamentations. ¡°We¡¯re insured.¡± Old White Bill huffed, ¡°Yes. I know. I-I just¡­my baby¡­¡± Fala got up, ¡°I hope Finley is ok.¡± Joph¡¯rena swiped at her omnipad and showed it to the Rakiri. ¡°Finley left Bill¡¯s knife at the scene of the crime.¡± She twisted her tusk. ¡°There are two reasons I can think of for him to have done that. One, he knew that if it was Bill¡¯s knife, we would immediately suspect the knife¡¯s owner to be the murderer. However, the second reason showed his hubris and led to his downfall; he knew the proof of his crime would be turned in to the department on base where he worked. He could sneak it out of the evidence locker whenever he wanted and no one would be the wiser. Who knows how many trails went cold because he had access to any and all material that could tip off his involvement with the Aurums and any of their assorted interests?¡± ¡°Oh fuck him and all those gold-toothed bastards!¡± Remy growled as he headed toward the door. ¡°I¡¯ll kill him if he didn¡¯t die in the wreck!¡± The big Rakiri practically pushed Michael over before bursting through the door. He was rendered motionless as soon as his body crossed the threshold. Shiny rhinestone-armored Shil¡¯vati soldiers from the landed Shil¡¯vati spaceship tased him before anyone in the house could stop him. Joph¡¯rena dropped her head, ¡°Unfortunately, I had already planned for that reaction as well.¡± She raised her head again and looked at Fala. ¡°I understand from your interview with the boys here that you¡¯re some kind of Rakiri royalty. I¡¯m sure that it must rankle you and your¡­¡± Again, Joph¡¯rena struggled to find an appropriate word, ¡°...kin, that you¡¯re a lowly cog in the Shil¡¯vati Imperium. But there¡¯s only one Empress.¡± She saw the annoyed looks on the assembled and conscious Rakiri faces, looked over at Michael who had recovered from being shoved by Remy and followed up, ¡°I will see what I can do about a special assignment or something if that will satisfy you and your¡­people. Linnet looked at Fala and at Michael before admitting, ¡°Look, this is a lot to take in at once. Can we have some time to think about what has happened and where we could go from here?¡± Joph¡¯rena squinted at Linnet then looked at Fala, ¡°How about this: I¡¯ll give you until midnight Friday to return to the base. If you aren¡¯t back, there will be a warrant for your arrest and you¡¯ll face a military tribunal, which will likely be me or others from the Interior like me.¡± ¡°Fair enough,¡± Fara accepted, ¡°We will see you sometime between now and then.¡± She looked over at Bill, who had sat himself on a stool at the island. ¡°You took our ride. How are we going to get back?¡± Bill shrugged, ¡°I rode in a spaceship.¡± Joph¡¯rena tapped on her omnipad a few times. ¡°I have open orders with the Daytona station to either assist your return to Jacksonville or your arrest for insubordination.¡± She looked back at the soldiers who had Ssgt. Remington settled on a cot in the driveway. ¡°Do you think you can get the big guy back into the house or should we take him with us?¡± Harley stepped forward, ¡°We¡¯ve got him. What are you going to do with Finley?¡± As if on cue, more soldiers in the gaudy bright armor had the unconscious Finley on another floating purple metal cot and were angling him up a ramp into the landed Shil¡¯vati spaceship. Joph¡¯rena nodded solemnly, ¡°He¡¯s mine.¡± Michael looked sadly at Linnet. Her ears bent forward as if she could hear his silent calls for her to come back to Jacksonville with him. She looked back at Fala and then again at Michael. Her face showed him where her loyalties lay. Michael took a deep breath and turned to Joph¡¯rena, ¡°Are we done here?¡± ¡°As far as I¡¯m concerned.¡± Joph¡¯rena tucked her omnipad under her arm. Michael gave Sharon a slight bow and Old Man Bill an even slighter smile, ¡°Thanks for having me over. Again. I guess?¡± Bill kissed his mom on the cheek on the way out, ¡°I¡¯ll call you later on.¡± ¡°Sure thing, Willy.¡± Sharon smiled absently. ¡°What about my car!¡± Old White Bill whined in Joph¡¯rena¡¯s direction. Joph¡¯rena smirked over her shoulder as she stepped out toward the driveway. ¡°Didn¡¯t you hear? You¡¯re insured.¡± Murder On The Base Ch 39 - A Murder on the Base (If you like Pi?a Coladas) Duval Dirtbag Murder On The Base Chapter 39 - A Murder on the Base (If you like Pi?a Coladas) The vibrations of Michael¡¯s phone against Linnet¡¯s plasteel bedside table rang him out of his slumber. He was mildly disoriented being awoken in someplace not his room. Then he remembered that the pod was empty. The pack, for the most part, was still in Daytona, with the exception of Finley of course. Finley lay in what he assumed was some form of discomfort somewhere in the on-base prison. There was a word for it, but Michael couldn¡¯t think around the vibrating of his phone ringing on silent against what amounted to a metal table. He picked it up, ¡°Hello?¡± ¡°Michael, sorry for calling you so late at night but I¡¯ve got an emergency at work and I need you to take the kids.¡± ¡°Oh Jess, you don¡¯t have to wake them. I can head down to the house if you¡¯ll give me a minute.¡± ¡°No, no need. I¡¯ve got to get off planet for this so I¡¯ll drop them off on my way to the spaceport.¡± ¡°Oh, sure. Whatever works for you.¡± ¡°Great. Thanks. We¡¯ll see you soon.¡± ¡°Cool. See you soon.¡± Michael sat up and looked around the room, wondering what the repercussions of staying in Linnet and Bella¡¯s room would be. Would it be worse if he picked up a little bit? Ought he take a shower? Woof. *** Finley sat on a cold bare plasteel bench. It¡¯s not so bad. Oh? You¡¯re shivering. Of course I¡¯m shivering. I¡¯m a short hair breed sitting on a metal bench. But not shivering for the usual reasons? ¡°No.¡± They got me. Busted. In the clink. ¡°No reason to hide anymore. I don¡¯t have to HOLD ALL THIS RAGE INSIDE!¡± ¡°Hey! Pipe down in there!¡± A guard yelled from their desk. Oh stuff it you blue twat. ¡°Who are you talking to?¡± The guard growled toward Finley. ¡°Myself. Leave me alone!¡± Anyway, where were we? In the brig. Not shivering for the usual reasons. Ah yes. Well we¡¯re here. Why are you here? Your story isn¡¯t over yet. Oh? Not quite. ¡°Not quite.¡± Ok. Let me get some rest then. Best of luck. *** Michael met Jessica at the gate to the base. He¡¯d borrowed a cart to keep her from having to go through security. He piled their backpacks in the back, put Katherine in the front passenger seat and Doug in his lap. They woke just enough to get out of their car seats. ¡°I hope everything is ok.¡± Michael offered. ¡°Well, it¡¯s not,¡± Jessica glared at Michael¡¯s dimwittedness, ¡°I¡¯m leaving for an emergency in the middle of the night.¡± ¡°Yeah. I get that.¡± Michael lowered his face toward Jessica, ¡°For you. I mean. I hope you''re taking care of yourself.¡± ¡°Yeah, sure. I am.¡± Jessica pinched the bridge of her nose. ¡°Sorry. I¡¯m punchy from lack of sleep and this news. I didn¡¯t know that going off planet in the middle of the night was what I¡¯d signed up for with this new position but it looks like it is.¡± ¡°Well, best of luck.¡± ¡°Thanks again for taking them on short notice.¡± ¡°No problem.¡± Michael said as he gave Jessica a half hearted wave goodbye. Jessica returned his valediction with a resolute nod and turned back to her car. Then Jessica left and Michael carted the kids back to his pod. He put Doug in Fala¡¯s bed and Katherine in Harley¡¯s. He went out to the couch in the common room and pretended like he¡¯d be able to go back to sleep. *** ¡°¡®You¡¯re insured,¡¯ what a condescending cunt.¡± Old White Bill said to the rest of his veteran guerrillas as he put on a black ski mask. He, Jack, and Tex crossed the road from where they parked to the outer wall of the Shil¡¯vati base. They pressed against the wall so that none of the exterior cameras could detect them. ¡°Ain¡¯t that Michael?¡± Tex asked Old White Bill. ¡°That it is. What¡¯s going on?¡± Old White Bill asked before the answer made itself apparent. ¡°That¡¯s his kids.¡± He looked at the ground in calculation. He turned back to his crew. ¡°This changes nothing. We continue the operation.¡± The others nodded in agreement. They waited for Michael to head back to the interior of the base before sneaking around the guard station in silence. ¡°Now if I were a brig, where would I be?¡± Jack pondered. Tex was already looking around with his binoculars. ¡°They all look funneh. Like not a squahre.¡± ¡°Hmm.¡± Jack pondered. They saw the lights of Michael¡¯s cart. ¡°So it¡¯s not there. What¡¯s that nearer the center of the base? Does that look right?¡± ¡°We won¡¯t know until we find out.¡± Old White Bill stated John Madden-ingly. Though they did try to avoid the pivoting of the security camera¡¯s views, their night vision was not so accurate. On more than one occasion, one of them tripped over a drainage grating or a gradient change, causing them to make a loud scuffing noise with their shoes. However, no one was ever the wiser. These bungling banditos were bound to unbind their new brother from the brig. *** Doug woke up freaking out. Incoherent screaming filled Fala and Harley¡¯s room. Michael sat bolt upright and oriented his head to face that room in the dark via echolocation more than the tiny lights of electronics scattered about the common room. Michael made his way blindly at first but gathered his footing as he went. ¡°Hey Buddy! What¡¯s up?¡± He tapped the lights on to show Doug¡¯s desperate crying. Doug had a particular way of crying: he curled his lips over his teeth so that you saw two bleary, tear-filled eyes, rosy red cheeks and a wide, toothless maw. Michael looked over at Harley¡¯s bed to see Katherine rocking her body back and forth like a full body battering ram. This is how she¡¯s always soothed herself but she was rocking in overdrive at Doug¡¯s cries. Doug wailed, ¡°WaaaaahdonnowwhereIamuuuh!¡± Through parental experience or divine intervention, Michael was able to piece together a reply. ¡°I know my dude, this isn¡¯t your room. You¡¯re ok though. Here,¡± he knelt onto the bed, ¡°I¡¯m here. I got you.¡± He wrapped his still screaming son into his arms. Gradually, shudderingly, Doug caught his breath. Michael reassured him, ¡°You¡¯re ok. Dad¡¯s here. Your mom has a thing and had to go so she brought you to me.¡± Doug huffed, ¡°This isn¡¯t your room.¡± ¡°It isn¡¯t.¡± Michael looked around at all of Fala¡¯s stuff: pictures and mementos of people and events that Michael couldn¡¯t guess about, but got the impression were notable if you knew what was up. He didn¡¯t. ¡°But I had the opportunity to give you a room to yourself for the night and I thought you¡¯d appreciate that.¡± ¡°Oh yeah, thanks Daddy.¡± Doug lied. ¡°Next time though, can I just stay in your bed?¡± Michael caught a smell he recognized. ¡°Maybe.¡± He lied, knowing that he¡¯d rather Doug pee in Fala¡¯s bed than his own. ¡°You can move over to my bed if you want.¡± He fumbled around to find Doug¡¯s backpack. ¡°Is there anything in here you¡¯d be willing to change into, Bud?¡± Katherine¡¯s rocking dwindled but did not subside in Doug¡¯s transition from crying and wet into calm and new clothes. ¡°C¡¯mon, let¡¯s get out of here.¡± If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. *** Old White Bill leaned into the punch that laid the Shil¡¯vati who was guarding Finley¡¯s cell out. He chuckled to himself, ¡°Still got it.¡± ¡°Nice¡¯n.¡± Tex winked at Old White Bill. Bill reciprocated with a thumbs up. Jack grinned, ¡°With her out of the way, we can figure out how to get this door open.¡± Old White Bill rifled through the guard¡¯s pockets. ¡°Nothing in her pockets. No carabiner either.¡± Tex sidled down at the guard¡¯s desk. ¡°I¡¯m going to see if there¡¯s a way to open up a menu or a computer screen or something.¡± Jack poked a finger through the eyehole of his mask to scratch at his temple. ¡°I hated technology before, I can¡¯t tell heads from tails with this Shil¡¯vanti bullshit.¡± Old White Bill stood straight up with the guard at his feet and planted his fists on his hips. He allowed himself a therapeutic hula hooping motion to stretch himself out; it¡¯d been a while since he¡¯d been out this late. Tex¡¯s fumbling, pressing and eventually pounding at the guard¡¯s desk got Finley¡¯s attention. He sniffled drowsily and stretched his legs out to their full extension, toes splayed in his boots. He started to speak gravelly, but cleared his throat and called out to the trio, ¡°Try the wall. Is there a light on the wall?¡± ¡°Oh thank the Lord, Finley.¡± Jack called, then started to scan the wall. ¡°We were getting nowhere fast.¡± After a few moments he saw a big neon red English text on the wall: LOCKED. To the right of that was a big neon blue symbol that looked like a closed lock. Jack turned to the others and said, ¡°I might¡¯ve found something.¡± Tex practically burst up from where he was seated and pushed Jack away from where he stood. ¡°Don¡¯t touch nothin¡¯, ya fool!¡± Jack recovered without falling but clambored back to stand beside Tex. Tex adjusted his glasses in frustration, ¡°I can¡¯t quite make this out. What¡¯d you say this thing says?¡± Jack straightened out his black turtleneck, ¡°I¡¯m no expert, but it looks like it might could open up the cell.¡± Finley rolled his eyes and huffed at what he imagined was happening. ¡°No time for a debate.¡± Old White Bill juked his way between Tex and Jack to press two fingers against the blue lock symbol on the wall. ¡°Let¡¯s just go.¡± The bars to Finley¡¯s cell clacked loudly. He stepped forward and gingerly pushed them away from one wall. They slid easily. A little too easily, Finley thought. He darted his eyes to every corner before stepping out. ¡°That¡¯s our boy!¡± Old White Bill clapped Finley on the back. ¡°Now let¡¯s get out of here.¡± Finley¡¯s eyes didn¡¯t stop searching. What¡¯s the hitch? Where¡¯s the guards? Do they think I¡¯m so little of a threat? The masked men moved Finley out of the building and maneuvered their way toward the gate. Finley ended up grabbing each of the three men in turn before they knocked over anything too loud. They left much more stealthily than they¡¯d arrived thanks to Finley¡¯s guidance. They managed to sneak past the gate and on to the blue Buick Enclave with disabled veteran plates. Finley didn¡¯t shake outwardly, but that didn¡¯t stop his internal unease. Hmmm. *** Katherine¡¯s rumpled and knotted hair was the first thing Michael noticed when she came out to the common room. ¡°Hey hon!¡± He smiled sleepily at her from the couch. ¡°How¡¯re you doin¡¯?¡± Katherine¡¯s grimace knitted her face with horizontal lines. ¡°Where¡¯s Linnet? Where¡¯s Bel¡¯a? Where¡¯s everybody?¡± She walked over to Michael and heaped herself into a bundle nestling at his side. Michael wrapped his arm around her and kissed the top of her head. ¡°They had some business out of town. They¡¯re entitled to have some time away.¡± Katherine harrumphed with her whole body. ¡°Do you know what¡¯s going on with mom?¡± ¡°Work?¡± Michael answered as best he could. Katherine¡¯s face knitted up again and she shook her head. ¡°Yeah, I know.¡± Work was Jessica¡¯s top priority. ¡°Hey, you wanna come with me to the mess and get some grub?¡± Katherine shrugged sleepily, ¡°I guess.¡± Michael cracked the door to his and Bill¡¯s room. Doug was snoozing soundly. Bill stirred enough to pry an eye open at Michael. Michael pointed to his bed so that Bill saw Doug; then he gave a questioning thumbs up. Bill gave a sleepy thumbs up. Michael shut the door, grabbed Katherine by the hand and headed to the Mess. When they arrived, Katherine¡¯s mouth was agape. There were tall, busty Shil¡¯vati marines. There were shiny-scaled busty Helkam marines. There were a handful of other Rakiri marines who were also busty. Seeing the diversity of the Imperium in one place had become old hat to Michael. After they¡¯d picked up trays of foods that satisfied both of them, they sought out a table. Michael couldn¡¯t help but see that Joph¡¯rena was waving them over to her table. A month ago, that would have rankled him, but since his Pack had practically forsaken him, he would have to endeavor onward into the future. Who know who he might meet in the future? ¡°Hey Michael!¡± Joph¡¯rena greeted, ¡°and who is this?¡± Michael tried not to think about how much Joph¡¯rena probably already knew about him, his life, his kids, but she was willing to play the game to keep up the charade. Plus civility didn¡¯t allow for an almost twelve year old to know that people could just know about her. ¡°This is Katherine.¡± He turned to his daughter, ¡°This is Joph¡¯rena. She¡¯s kind of my boss.¡± He said with eyes narrowed. ¡°Oh heavens no! I¡¯m not your boss. We are all but servants of the Empress.¡± Joph¡¯rena smiled placatingly. ¡°We do work together.¡± She crossed her arms under her bosoms, placed her elbows on the table between herself and her own breakfast tray, cleaving herself more fully. ¡°Closely together.¡± Joph¡¯rena¡¯s display did not go unnoticed by Katherine, who tried not to look for too long and instead picked at the waxen folds of her milk carton. Michael also did his best to appear oblivious, ¡°What do you have going on this morning?¡± Joph¡¯rena leaned forward, accentuating herself further, ¡°You¡¯re friend, Finley, has escaped.¡± Michael scalded his tongue and throat on his coffee, ¡°HE WHAT?¡± ¡°No worries, Michael, no worries!¡± Joph¡¯rena smiled glowingly. ¡°We are aware and are taking steps to take care of the issue.¡± Michael looked around making sure that anyone within earshot wouldn¡¯t hear him, then hissed, ¡°Taking care of it? Sounds like this could have been taken care of by not letting him escape!¡± Joph¡¯rena drew her eyes to Katherine, though Katherine did not get her eyes far enough up to make contact with Joph¡¯rena¡¯s. ¡°Is your father always this dramatic?¡± Katherine drank her milk anxiously, ¡°He can be.¡± ¡°From the mouths of babes!¡± Joph¡¯rena chided. ¡°Michael, we could have easily prevented his recovery, but when we saw who we were dealing with, we felt it would be more efficient to let him go.¡± ¡°Letting him go would be easier?¡± ¡°Michael, you will come to see that this is the right decision.¡± Joph¡¯rena lifted her arm to twist her tusk, jiggling herself distractingly. ¡°I think your people have a phrase about flies and honey, but we have our own using Turox shit instead. You¡¯ll find it a bit more effective.¡± Michael took a recovery sip of his coffee. ¡°Ok, well, there¡¯s not anything I can do about it. So, best of luck?¡± Joph¡¯rena beamed at his acceptance. She looked over at Katherine and back to Michael, ¡°It is so nice to see a father who knows his place.¡± Michael cocked his head to the side in a mannerism he¡¯d seen on the Shil¡¯vati. ¡°My place?¡± Joph¡¯rena gave him a wink, ¡°Taking care of the children. Of course.¡± Michael got defensive, ¡°Are you saying that my place is rearing the children?¡± ¡°It¡¯s not in battle,¡± Joph¡¯rena looked away and forked politely at her food, ¡°that¡¯s for sure.¡± Katherine chuckled under her breath. Michael was getting offended, ¡°I can push a button from an orbital station as easily as anyone else.¡± ¡°Oh ho!¡± Joph¡¯rena smiled toward Katherine, ¡°He is feisty this morning!¡± Michael huffed. ¡°I don¡¯t even know why I¡¯m upset. I don¡¯t even want to be in battle.¡± ¡°Maybe not,¡± Joph¡¯rena winked at him, ¡°But you may end up helping us win a war.¡± Michael had had enough. ¡°Ok. Will I see you in the office?¡± ¡°No. Take the day. Hopefully, Jessica will be on her way.¡± Joph¡¯rena grinned, ¡°Though from the looks of things, I¡¯d say you¡¯ve got it handled.¡± Michael wasn¡¯t sure how to take these compliments and her overt flirting. He chose to overlook it. ¡°Hey hon,¡± he said to Katherine, ¡°What do you think your brother would want for breakfast?¡± Katherine cast a furtive glance at her father, ¡°Beets and snails?¡± Michael straightened up, ¡°Oh? Escargot to go?¡± Joph¡¯rena looked to the distance wistfully, ¡°We had them. Not long ago. It seems so long ago though.¡± Michael and Katherine giggled to themselves and walked away to get a box for Doug. Michael gave Joph¡¯rena a congenial nod, ¡°Thank you. See you later.¡± When they arrived back at their pod, Doug was awake and had happily taken the PlayStation on the TV in the common room. Michael hoped Doug would eat before the food got colder. Katherine looked around sadly, ¡°It¡¯s so empty in here. Where¡¯d everyone go?¡± Michael thought quickish, ¡°They are in Daytona. They have the right to take a vacation.¡± Bill spoke from a cocoon of blankets on the section of couch perpendicular from Doug. ¡°R & R.¡± Michael attempted to interpret this comment, ¡°Rail and Road?¡± Bill¡¯s blankets rumbled, ¡°Rest and Relaxation. They¡¯ll be back later in the week.¡± Then, under his breath he added, ¡°Hopefully.¡± ¡°Agreed.¡± Michael said while reaching for his vibrating phone. It was Jessica. ¡°Hello? How¡¯s things?¡± ¡°Hey, I was going to ask you the same thing.¡± Jessica responded without answering the question. ¡°We¡¯re good.¡± Michael turned away from the kids, ¡°Doug had another overnight accident.¡± ¡°Hmm.¡± Jessica replied. ¡°Can I talk to the kids?¡± ¡°Sure. Doug is playing but Katherine is right here.¡± Michael said before handing Katherine his phone. ¡°Mommy!¡± Katherine squealed. Jessica spoke from the other side of the phone. ¡°Oh, no I slept alright, but someone got busted outta jail here last night! So that¡¯s exciting.¡± Bill¡¯s cocooned figure blossomed into a fully in-shock flower of Bill. Michael reached for his phone. ¡°Hey! Um, hey Jessica, sorry about that.¡± ¡°Did she just say that someone broke out of jail on the base?¡± Jessica repeated. Michael pinched the bridge of his nose. ¡°Clearly, this was not something that I could have anticipated. This is all poor timing.¡± ¡°Who would be in prison on a military base?¡± Jessica asked. ¡°We uh, had a-¡° Michael saw Bill stand up, shaking his head No and waving his arms accordingly, but was already saying the words, ¡°A murder on the base¡­¡± Jessica screeched loud enough to be heard clearly from Michael¡¯s end of the phone line, ¡°You¡¯ve had my kids on base with some murderer!?¡± There it was. The damage was done. No going back now. ¡°To be fair, it is a very recent development.¡± Michael tried to repair it in vain. Bill¡¯s hands fell to his face to hide his eyes. He slunk down to retrieve his blankets and folded himself back into a burrito on the couch. Jessica continued on for a bit longer than was comfortable but the gist of what she said was that she was coming back as soon as possible. Murder On The Base Ch 40 - Meetings of the Minds (Vibes were off) Duval Dirtbag Murder On The Base Chapter 40 - Meetings of the Minds (Vibes were off) Finley pondered his escape the whole ride down to Daytona in Old Man Bill¡¯s Enclave. There was room enough for himself, Jack, and Tex while Old Bill drove. They¡¯d ditched the masks, but the mere view of their black woolen turtlenecks made his skin itch. It¡¯s not like I wanted to stay in prison, but I don¡¯t know what the next steps will be. Now that it¡¯s been revealed that I¡¯ve been a member of the Aurums, how will the rest of the Pack react? I already know how Ssgt Remington reacted. Not well. Who would Fala side with? It seemed obvious that she would follow the rule follower and not a, um, strong silent type like me. Finley pondered where things would lead the entire trip from the base to the Veterans of Foreign Wars in Daytona. ¡°Why are we back here?¡± he asked. ¡°Well we can¡¯t take you back to Sharon¡¯s house, that¡¯s where they picked you up.¡± Old white Bill explained. Finley nodded in acquiescence. ¡°Don¡¯t worry though, we¡¯ve arranged for the Pack to meet us there.¡± Bill assuaged. Finley couldn¡¯t tell whether he was happy to hear that or not but what choice did he have? He was already on the run. Until he could get away from his rescuers and the Pack, he wasn¡¯t sure what his options were. He followed the old men into the VFW. The Pack was already inside greeting him with various degrees of familiarity. Though none by touch, Finley noted. Ssgt Remington was just shy of confrontational; he didn¡¯t growl, but there was no tail swishing or familiar movement of any kind: Remington stood still as a statue when Finley walked into the room. ¡°Welcome back to Daytona.¡± Fala smiled diplomatically. ¡°Thank you.¡± Finley replied with his tail between his legs. ¡°We¡¯ve given this a lot of thought¡ª¡± Fala began before she was interrupted. ¡°I¡¯m going to stop you right there.¡± A voice rang out from the door to the kitchen. ¡°I heard your little conference about what to do and what to say.¡± A round feminine form wearing overly tight fatigues emerged from the kitchen, followed by a cherubic face. ¡°It¡¯s all bullshit, Finley.¡± The whole Pack turned to see what was going on at that point. Harley gasped in recognition, ¡°You were at the race.¡± ¡°Was I?¡± The woman feigned clutching pearls with a shiny prosthetic that wound its way up her sleeve. ¡°You were a part of the sabotage that killed and hurt so many people!¡± Linnet cried. The woman shook her head and recoiled from Linnet¡¯s cry. ¡°I don¡¯t know about all that. I don¡¯t even know that I was at the race.¡± She straightened up and pointed at the sky. ¡°But I do know it seemed like someone sent a message to the Shil¡¯vati and that¡¯s good enough for me.¡± Finley recalled the carnage and beamed admiringly at the woman. ¡°We have no love for the Shil¡¯vati either,¡± Fala implored, ¡°but murder is not the right way to¡ª¡± ¡°Murder is how they got where they are on a galactic scale. Murder may be the only language they understand.¡± The woman pointed at herself, ¡°If you don¡¯t remember me, I¡¯m Rachel. I¡¯m called a ¡®rebel,¡¯ but Finley knows as well as I do that ¡®rebel¡¯ is what the bad guys call the little guys. The ones getting stepped on but refuse to be crushed. One person¡¯s rebel is another person¡¯s ¡®hero¡¯.¡± Rachel scanned the Pack. ¡°Who wants to be a hero?¡± *** Michael and Bill sat across from each other in their room on the Shil¡¯vati base in Jacksonville, Florida. Michael was gathering the children¡¯s dirty clothes into a plastic bag which he would then send back in their luggage to their mother. Bill added to his stack of shirts as he drew them out and folded them. Doug was soaking in too much screen time, bathing the common room in the sounds of gunfire and explosions. Katherine sat just outside of Bill and Michael¡¯s room with earbuds in, listening to It¡¯s a Small World for the millionth time while drawing on her iPad. They were all biding their time until Jessica came to pick them up. Michael tied off the top of the Publix bag and looked up at Bill, ¡°Are you concerned about your mother being amongst terrorists?¡± Bill breathed deeply, considering what he said before he said it. ¡°Did Mom tell you the story about when she was still in the Philippines and an American soldier took her on a motorcycle ride?¡± ¡°Refresh my memory.¡± Michael requested. ¡°She got on the back of the motorcycle and the dumbass yanked the throttle of the bike so hard that mom fell off the back of the bike.¡± Bill smiled at the mental image. ¡°Left her in the dust.¡± Michael cocked his head to the side, ¡°What¡¯s that got to do with this?¡± Bill grabbed his stack of shirts and walked over to a purple dresser across the room from his bed. ¡°Mom¡¯s seen hard times, but she¡¯s a survivor. She¡¯ll do what she thinks is best for her.¡± He put his shirts away, walked back to his bed and plopped down admiring a job well done. ¡°We may not see eye to eye, but she¡¯ll do what she¡¯s got to do to get by.¡± Michael continued. ¡°Don¡¯t you worry about her?¡± Bill rubbed at where he¡¯d been stabbed and then wiped his face, from his nose down opposite sides of his mouth before answering. ¡°Of course I do, but she¡¯s got her shit together better than me or you.¡± Michael pondered that for a moment when he heard the main door to the pod building open. He heard the footsteps take a minor hesitation before heading straight to his door. Joph¡¯rena popped her head in and hissed, "Michael!" She then turned to Katherine and gave her a pleasant smile and wave. Michael glanced at Bill, then looked at Joph¡¯rena. ¡°Yeah?¡± Joph¡¯rena hooked a thumb toward Doug, ¡°Are you going to let him play that trash all day?¡± Michael half smiled and half frowned, ¡°I mean, he can get some mindless entertainment until his mom gets here.¡± ¡°Goddess,¡± Joph¡¯rena rolled her eyes, ¡°Just when I think you¡¯re not a half bad father, you go off on this Turox shit.¡± She glared at Michael, ¡°The boy is going to rot his brains. He needs to learn about morals and family values that he¡¯ll have to teach to your grandkids.¡± She leaned her head back to try to make eye contact with Katherine but she had her nose to the grindstone drawing in her iPad. ¡°You ought to give her a chance with the violence. A woman¡¯s place is on the battlefield.¡± Bill closed his eyes and didn¡¯t speak. Michael let out a frustrated breath, ¡°Is there a reason beyond criticizing my parenting that you¡¯re here?¡± This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. ¡°Yes actually. I need to talk to your ex.¡± As if on cue, the main pod door opened and Jessica walked into the common room. ¡°Mom!¡± Doug hollered, pausing Call of Duty and tossing the PlayStation controller on the couch cushion beside him. He ran up to and hugged Jessica. ¡°Hey, my baby.¡± Jessica started then bent down to gently remove one of Katherine¡¯s earbuds. Katherine pressed the iPad to her chest and made eye contact with her mother. ¡°Babies.¡± Katherine smiled up at her mother, ¡°Mommy!¡± And hugged Jessica¡¯s nearest leg. Michael got up, zipped the kids¡¯ luggage closed and went out to meet Jessica. Joph¡¯rena offered Jessica her hand, ¡°Hello! Nice to meet you Jessica.¡± Jessica was caught off guard, all the same she reached up and clasped hands with Joph¡¯rena. ¡°Hi. Sorry, I don¡¯t know your name.¡± Joph¡¯rena tried to soften her face, ¡°Oh no, I don¡¯t imagine I come up much in your and Michael¡¯s conversations.¡± She looked at Michael with an expression that looked like she wanted to spit at him. ¡°All the same, I¡¯m Joph¡¯rena. I am an Interior Agent here on the base. I try to make sure the ship keeps sailing smoothly as it were.¡± Michael watched Jessica put on her business face. ¡°That¡¯s not dissimilar from my role. I make sure my company¡¯s operations run smoothly as well.¡± Michael could see through the mask; Jessica was exhausted. Joph¡¯rena smiled knowingly. ¡°Yes. About that, I wanted to catch you here while we have you on base.¡± ¡°Oh?¡± Jessica gave the kids a squeeze then ushered them to collect their things, go potty and otherwise get ready to leave. Joph¡¯rena looked at the floor a moment until the adults were alone and could speak freely. ¡°How are operations coming along on Mars?¡± ¡°I¡­¡± Jessica looked accusingly at Michael. ¡°¡­I don¡¯t believe I said where I was going. How do you know where I was?¡± ¡°Fuck if I know.¡± Michael said with his hands in the air. ¡°You only told me that you were going ¡®off planet¡¯.¡± ¡°Yes.¡± Joph¡¯rena said with the superior air of a member of a conquering race. ¡°Perks of being an Interior Agent.¡± She winked at Jessica. Jessica measured how much she should actually admit to Joph¡¯rena. ¡°I might as well tell you, since you¡¯re poking your nose into my business and I don¡¯t have any answers.¡± She looked at Michael to see if she could really trust Joph¡¯rena. Michael nodded in an affirmative. Jessica continued, ¡°I work for a company that¡¯s primarily invested in paper.¡± Bill fake coughed, ¡°Toilet paper.¡± Jessica gave him a hateful look. Joph¡¯rena didn¡¯t break her focus from Jessica to answer the hateful look. ¡°He¡¯s a charmer.¡± Annoyed but undeterred, Jessica continued, ¡°Yes, toilet paper is a major product. Paper towels. But that¡¯s not the only thing we make¡ª¡° ¡°There¡¯s no need for paper on Mars.¡± Michael wondered out loud. ¡°Not yet,¡± Jessica paused, ¡°but there is a need for an atmosphere. And the way we make an atmosphere is through terraforming. Terraforming means trees. Trees mean paper. We know how to manage the renewable resource of trees. Therefore, we were asked to play a role in the development of trees on mars.¡± ¡°Shut¡­up.¡± Michael said in amazement. ¡°No, for real.¡± Jessica said to Michael in a manner that seemed all too familiar for a relatively recently unmarried couple. ¡°Then what¡¯s going wrong that you got called in at such short notice?¡± Michael asked, genuinely interested. ¡°There was an explosion near enough to the dome to interfere with the seal and a couple of people got hurt.¡± ¡°An indirect hit caused enough trouble to get people killed?¡± Joph¡¯rena inquired. Jessica shrugged. ¡°Terrariums are self-sustaining on the inside but any imbalance outside of it can cause havoc inside.¡± ¡°Sensitive buggers, eh?¡± Bill suggested. ¡°So it seems.¡± Jessica agreed, not quite sure whether she appreciated Bill¡¯s involvement in the conversation. He had struck her as a sarcastic wildcard. ¡°I had to go out and make sure the repairs were going according to our standard operations.¡° Michael wanted to hear more. ¡°Any idea what caused the explosion?¡± ¡°Not particularly.¡± Jessica mused, ¡°Meteorite? We don¡¯t know.¡± Leans in toward Joph¡¯rena. ¡°Do you?¡± Joph¡¯rena hesitated to answer. ¡°We suspect it might be pirates. Specifically the Aurums.¡± ¡°No way!¡± Michael blurted out. ¡°For real.¡± Joph¡¯rena copied the energy she¡¯d seen Jessica¡¯s display to Michael¡¯s previous reaction to revelations. ¡°In fact, we have reason to suspect that Finley may have directed his gang of toughs to seek out gold on the asteroid belt.¡± Jessica looked confused. ¡°Then why were my domes attacked?¡± ¡°I doubt they were attacked.¡± Joph¡¯rena twisted at her tusk. ¡°I imagine it was more like collateral damage.¡± ¡°They don¡¯t give a fuck.¡± Bill rubbed his arm again. ¡°Especially if they¡¯re anything like Finley.¡± Jessica took a quick look at the kids. They were almost ready. ¡°I take it the murderer was this ¡®Finley¡¯ character.¡± Joph¡¯rena turned to look at Michael as if to say, this question is for you, big boy. Michael looked around the pod at the empty rooms sheepishly. ¡°Yeah, um, so the reason we ended up living on the Shil¡¯vati base is because we were kind of adopted by this group of Rakiri.¡± ¡°Linnet and Fala invited him.¡± Katherine interjected while slipping her hand into her mother¡¯s. ¡°Finley gave me the willies.¡± Doug said absently as he drug his bag to his mothers feet. ¡°Yeah, the vibes were off.¡± Katherine said to no one in particular. ¡°You hear that?¡± Jessica half chuckled as she looked at Michael. ¡°¡®Vibes were off.¡¯ Where do you learn these things?¡± Katherine looked up at her mother, ¡°I have too much access to the internet.¡± Joph¡¯rena looked down at Doug. ¡°Yes and this one has too much screen time with violent video games.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sure he does.¡± Jessica replied, looking squarely at Michael. Michael looked at the floor, trying to disappear. Jessica resigned, assuming that was the end of the conversation. She squeezed Katherine¡¯s hand and looked down at her. ¡°You ready to go home, baby girl?¡± ¡°Yup!¡± The children replied cheerily. There was a brief cacophony outside the main door before it entered the pod. Michael recognized the voices fast enough to shift his family and their belongings out of the way of the door before they got ran over. Fala led the Pack through the door. She took one look at Joph¡¯rena and spouted, ¡°They¡¯re crazy! Wherever you need. We¡¯re in.¡± She took in the rest of the room and noticed Jessica and the kids being cordoned to the side by Michael and put two and two together. ¡°Oh! My. Where are my manners?¡± Her body somehow relaxed and stiffened at the same time. ¡°I¡¯m Fala. This is Linnet, Bel¡¯a, Harley, and Ssgt Remington.¡± She gestured to each of them in turn. They all acknowledged Jessica in their own guarded ways. Katherine broke from her mother¡¯s hand and went over to Bel¡¯a to hug her. Placing her face distinctly in her ample bosom. Jessica looked at Michael admonishingly. Michael could only shrug. Linnet picked Katherine up to unlatch her from Bel¡¯a. The rest of the pack touched her lovingly. Fala stroked her hair. Harley gently scratched her back and Ssgt Remington gave her hand a gentle squeeze. Meanwhile, Doug tried to grapple Ssgt Remington but missed. Bel¡¯a swept around to pick him up to hold him upside down. Jessica made a move to retrieve her children, but Michael held her back. ¡°This is how they say ¡®hello¡¯.¡± Remington gave Doug soft punches to his upside down tummy. Harley held back Remington¡¯s blows, but ¡°accidentally¡± swished Doug¡¯s face with her tail. Fala grabbed Doug¡¯s arms for Bel¡¯a to let him go. He swung right side up and clapped the floor with his shoes. Linnet lunged down to bring Katherine to her feet and returned the two of them gently to their parents. Joph¡¯rena, like Jessica, was all done with this display. ¡°Now isn¡¯t the time to make plans. Let¡¯s regroup later in the week. I¡¯m glad to hear you all are back on board.¡± She said to the Pack. She turned to Jessica, ¡°If it is alright with you, I¡¯ll get your contact information from Michael so we can investigate the incident on Mars.¡± Jessica nodded in agreement. Then she waved farewell and left. Jessica and the children followed Joph¡¯rena out. ¡°Nice to meet you all. Have a good week!¡± Everyone turned back to return to their rooms. Michael tried to digest all that just happened. Finley, the little twitchy pipsqueak was a killer. He had recently escaped imprisonment on the base and Joph¡¯rena knew about it. He had likely also been feeding information to the other Aurums and their recklessness had caused trouble for his ex wife. Where was this going to go? Little did Michael know, he had more pressing matters. A rumble grew from Fala and Harley¡¯s room. Fala emerged and looked directly at Michael. ¡°Why did you let Doug piss in my bed!?!¡±