Henderson Applied Genetics: Professional Courtesy -7
12 Sep 2023Wild Jim Gruden
Part 6: Call of the Valkyries It was dark. The Valkyries whispered, their voices like a low static. Then one said, louder than the others, “I’ll be damned. It’s Wild Jim Gruden.”
Not quite the welcome I expected from a Valkyrie, and certainly not a Valkyrie with a male voice. Slowly, I became aware that I was slumped in a corner. My head felt like a water balloon lolling around on my shoulders. I opened my eyes to an out of focus world and the light stabbing straight into my brain. I raised my hand to cover my eyes.
“Take it easy, Jim. You probably have the mother of all concussions and moving around sure as hell aint going to help what little brain you have left.”
Still shielding my eyes, I looked between my fingers at three human shapes slowly coming into focus. The voice of the center shape now seemed familiar. “Reggie? Last I saw you was at Deslanders Relay. What the hell are you doing here?”
“Painting the walls,” said Reg. The shape to his right pointed a rifle at me but Reg slowly lowered the muzzle with his hand and told the shape. “I got this one, you go help the others. And tell Reynolds to let me know as soon as the gene samples are secured.”
The merc acknowledged the order with a “Roger that, Captain,” and left.
A few meters behind Reg, the departing merc stepped over Gulati’s corpse at the foot of the lone blast door leading out of the security center.
“Our last stand?” I asked Reg.
“A damn good one from what I hear.” Reg glanced around at the blast marks and scarred walls. “Fighting your way in, securing comms. Sending a distress signal. It took more than a few blast grenades to finally shut you up yelling about the Valkyries. Epic shit like that belongs in a movie because no one would believe it.”
Reg unholstered his P-15.
I sighed and lowered my hand to my thigh holster, but the sidearm was gone. I hoped the Valkyries had chosen Gulati just as they had chosen Hashimoto, but part of me was angry they left me alive only to be shot as an afterthought. “Well, I suppose it is time you finish painting the walls.”
Reg nodded and pointed the gun at me. I could hear the regret in his voice. “Yeah, Jim, it is. Sorry about this, but a job is a job.”
I tried to stand but the concussion made me dizzy and I fell onto my side.
“Dammit, prop him up,” said Reg to the person still standing there. Reg always was a decent guy. He had enough respect for me to look me in the eye when shooting me, instead of putting a round in the back of my head.
I’d forgotten about the other person lingering at the edge of my distorted vision. They set me up in the corner so that I would not fall over. It was Smith. I remembered he was in Control when the attack started. We stared at one another and I understood why there were no alarms; why control did not detect the incoming craft; why the defense guns never fired; why Hashimoto and Gulati were dead; and why I was about to be shot.
I grunted. “Inside job.”
I did not hear Reg’s gun fire. Warm spatter, like needle rain, speckled my face and neck when the round exited Smiths right eye, taking part of his face with it.
“A job’s a job,” repeated Reg and put another three rounds into Smith’s corpse. “All Henderson employees terminated. Job complete.” Reg holstered his P-15. “I remember what you did at Deslanders Relay, Jim. Consider us even and this a professional courtesy.”
I closed my eyes, the light and the blurred vision making me dizzy. I again heard the static-like whispers of the Valkyries as they departed. They had not claimed Smith.
Reg was met by a merc just outside the room. “Captain Smith, the samples are secured. We have maybe thirty minutes before a Henderson reaction team arrives.”
“Alright. There’s nothing but corpses here, so let’s button up and move out.”
Part 8: Aftermath (The End)