Duty, 28: The Closed Box
22 Jan 2023Meowers
Oh, where do I start... Those damned Thargoid lovers are being a pain in the arse again. Apparently, before those 'negotiators' were arrested, they managed to exchange some messages with our local troublemakers, sending them some kind of advices and directions. And now they're bugging the settlement security service, yelling that we, AXDF, are more a threat rather than a defence, we're warmongers, we should leave and that local AX fleet should be disbanded, and other kinds of bollocks I've already heard so many times. They're yelling verbally, they're writing dozens of scrupulously constructed complaints, and looks like they're trying to somehow influence the people around too. Of course, mentioning my little adventure to their mystery shack as a proof of aggression and violence against them. Sabotage evidence and meta-alloy bait? They pretend they don't know who those 'terrorists' are, they're being framed, and there's no proof of them involved personally, no names, no contacts, blah blah blah. And what's most heinous here? De jure, they're correct.
Thankfully, they still have nothing to say against us too, a 'woman in a heavy armour' that caused a bit of destruction... Was just a woman in a heavy armour, whose identity is yet to be revealed. She was smart enough to use her personal gear, without any AXDF markings.
So, that thing...
Peter called me yesterday, telling that he obtained copies of everything that was found... Well, in the place where six of those fanatics suddenly died due to the heightened concentration of plasma rifle rounds in their bodies. Invited me to his place to take a look and discuss, as 'there might be something that security missed'. Hm. How did he got to know I like meat pizza? Hah. Anyway, Peter has been usual Peter, cracking rude jokes about what kind of events made those alien lovers who they are now, and what they like to do when nobody else is looking. At least he asked his commanding officer, i.e. me, before opening his beer.
However, the guy, apart from that facade picture he tried to maintain, looked far more skilled in all that legal stuff rather than in piloting, where his expertise was quite average. Okay, 'it will do fine', but no wonders. And... It, kind of, piqued my interest. Why didn't he join the security here, apparently having good connections? What's the reason for him to spend his free time on that stuff, even if I told him to cease? Why was he so excited about joining my wing back then? So, I decided to ask him right away, hoping that being busy with the files would make him less defensive. And, of course, he made another joke about being a cop once, and then 'shit getting out of control' and him 'running away before it hit him'.
Nope. This wasn't the answer I expected to hear. Hmmm... Actually, I've had no proper 'personnel management' experience before, I never asked to be a wing leader, I never asked to be assigned to that local supply and maintenance thing, it's just... people in charge saw some potential in me, maybe. Piloting skills, tech skills, whatever. But I've never been a 'people's person'. However, with all that shady shit happening around us... I wanted to be sure that he won't become a source of another unwelcome surprise.
And, also. You know what? I can't stand slicky, dodgy people who can't be honest. And I want to know and trust people that I'm flying with.
So, I played that 'commanding officer' card once again. Stressing out that I have to be sure. I knew Christine and David longer than him, I knew what they're doing usually when we're on standby, and all that stuff. Also, he went on his investigation thing right after joining us, when the shit broke loose, and had been totally busy with it, while we did what we supposed to do, fighting Thargoids. I needed a fourth pilot in my wing, not some kind of shady deal-maker. And, those connections with the security service, it's the same security service that failed to prevent sabotage. And now... I wasn't so sure that they actually 'failed'.
"Oh. Claws out, uh? Calm down... Uh. Please. I'm on your side. And, okay, I trust you. Sad to hear you still don't trust me. I can get why, though."
So, he went silent for a minute, closed the file he was reading, took another beer and... asked me to listen. But, without that joking manner. Told that... He knew that a talk like this is going to happen soon.
He actually served in the Federal Police, and for a long time. And it's the only thing that local security knows about him, without any further details. Told me, he wanted to do something good, to make a difference. Back then, more than a decade ago, he was excited to know that he passed the exams and his thoughts about working in the law enforcement became true. And, year after year, he rose in ranks, served well and it was... A nice career, in general. Was. Until that one particular assignment. Peter had to leave his home system and work undercover, on the outskirts of the Federation space, infiltrating Delaine's criminal chain. For hell knows how long.
And, well, life far away from the core Fed systems is... Not exactly that shiny. Especially serving in the police. Underfunded, understaffed, overworking, and almost surrounded by those outlaws of all sorts who seem to have more real power over what's really happening on stations and settlements. Local police, those who weren't working undercover, had to negotiate and make deals with gangsters more often than putting them in prison, just for sake of staying alive and keeping some kind of fragile balance. And also, as you may guess, looking at the bank account status, comparing his monthly payments with the amounts of money Delaine's thugs were making, was rather... a depressing part of the job.
So, slowly, he fell to that temptation. Thought he could make some money 'working' for Delaine's group before they get busted, rather than just sending everything to the Federal accounts. Like, everybody around him were doing that, to some extent, and his insider position has been far more exploitable. Fake reports, anonymous accounts, hidden transactions, all that stuff. And... He couldn't remember when the scale got finally tipped. Delaine's figures noted his skills in finding people and information, connecting the dots, covering the tracks, etc., and... Peter was 'voluntarily' chosen for a promotion. Whatever those dipshits have for a 'promotion'. Or, translating from mafia language to human speech, he already knew too much to be left alive if he refused. And also it meant... He had to choose. Between sending every bit of data in the report and quickly leaving, putting an end to those profits he had, or accepting the offer and sending another fake rubbish in the report. And he chose the latter. Thought, he could make a bit more. To have a decent life, to start a family, all that. Just a bit more and he's out. But he wasn't the only one with those skills...
Eventually, Delaine's thugs found the place where Peter lived before the assignment, captured his girlfriend and literally put her in a slave pen. Telling Peter that this should be a test and he should prove his loyalty to the Crew. By selling her on a slave market. As she was considered his weak spot, and, working for Delaine, he should be free from any attachments.
Peter asked me for some cigarettes, telling all that. Normally, I've never seen him smoking, but... Uhh. You may guess. All that was nowhere near 'normal'. I told him that... I deeply apologise and he may stop if things are too uncomfortable, but he refused. "What's the reason in beginning a talk of that kind if you can't finish?". And said that I deserve to know.
Later, seeing Peter in person, and with slavers at his side, she screamed in his face, like, "you told me you're working in the police!". Obviously, that immediately put him in danger, he had to give his best to talk his way out. And then, next day, he almost got himself caught trying to open her cell. Told me... Like, maybe that guy was right, personal attachments were a weak spot, there was nothing especially difficult for him in getting past their guards and cracking that lock, however... Maybe, emotions that were overwhelming him dulled his vigilance. So, Delaine's guards attempted to capture him alive as well, but he managed to flee and escape the system on a public transport shuttle.
He ran for two weeks, changing places and going under fake names, until Delaine's agents finally lost his track. And, when he stopped... Without the information he gathered, without a place to live, without any measures to rescue his girlfriend, without even a way to know if she's still alive or not, having only that money he managed to raise, he dropped himself in a cheap motel room and, uh, started drinking. Totally hating himself for being a coward. And for betraying his thoughts about doing good, about making a difference, following the right path. Not to mention condemning his soon-to-be-wife to such a horrible fate.
So, he can't remember any further details well. Obviously. But there were bars, mostly. Eventually, one day he woke up in the rehab after a drunken suicide attempt. Tried to force open the emergency airlock outer door without a suit on him. And, going through all medical procedures later, decided to give this life another chance. He still had a piloting licence and some money left that was enough to buy a Cobra. Even a new one, not an old tired used rubbish. And also, he made a decision to stay clear of any law enforcement, security or detective jobs. To keep the memories at bay. To be a simple man with a simple spaceship, doing simple work here and there.
Ow.
I didn't know what to say.
"Thank... you. I... guess. For considering me a person you can share all that to."
He opened a cabinet and took a box. A strange flat box, covered with several layers of tape.
"Here. My personal datapad from those times. Messages, photos, everything. Except work-related data I had to keep on a secured police terminal. I know your type, it's very difficult to earn your trust. So, the evidence," he said, trying to reach the knife to open the box, but I stopped him.
"You had a reason to put so much tape on that box. Keep it closed. You've already opened more than enough."
I think... That was really more than enough. And, he told me, that, in joining planetary defence forces, and AXDF later, he saw a chance to return to the right path, to pursue a noble goal, to live up to the thoughts he had years ago. Without breaking the promise he gave to himself, without touching the painful memories. However, when that alien-loving crap started, it was like... a call. Like, something from above said, 'this is it, this is the chance for you to exonerate yourself'.
Anyway, I still needed him as a pilot in my wing. But, if following those trails brings him peace, he's free to do so and can count on my support if needed.
And, maybe, one day, it will be safe to open that box.