Mistakes
23 Sep 2017Darthjazzhands
Continued from "Of All the Gin Joints..."Looking back on it, my first mistake was walking into that bar. The second mistake was talking to the bastard. The third was letting him walk out of there alive.
It was two days ago when I finally saw the name I'd been looking for pop up on my scanner.
I was running cold & silent at full stop in deep space, well out of the shipping lane above the ecliptic so I could safely send messages home. Life support, scanner, and thrusters only. A trick I learned from Ferro, my Mum.
The canopy glass was almost fully iced over when I finished sending the message home: "I'm ok" ... The first in several days, so my parents wouldn't worry.
I was about to power up again but radio chatter broke the silence of the cockpit. Too much static to make out anything but laughter between two men. I pitched and rolled until my scanner could get a solid ID. A wing of two ships prowling the shipping lane below... One Anaconda and a Vulture. Both from the same pirate faction. One name I didn't recognize, but the other...
It wasn't the same ship but the pilot... It was him.
Ship type: Anaconda
Ship name: Freedom
Ship owner: Tony Doyle
"Bullshit, no record," I snorted.
Thanks to my adopted parents helping me find old police and inquest records, after 15 years I finally had my first clue to the destruction of the luxury liner Aphrodite that killed so many innocents and changed so many lives forever, including my own.
Doyle was a known smuggler and slaver, and his Python "The Paradox" was one of several reported to be in the area at the time of the attack. Perhaps the most damning evidence are records showing the sale of imperial slaves and escape pods within a day of the attack ... all of the pods were traced back to The Aphrodite.
I stayed cold and silent, letting them pass. There was only one station in the system and they were headed in that direction. Only when they were out of scanner range did I power up again.
I naively thought the wonderful thing about pirates is their predictability. I recognized their laughter the moment I entered the Tavern. They were at the bar drinking and sharing some private joke. I slipped in and asked the host for a small booth in the corner where I could watch them. One man was too young to be Doyle. The other seemed too old and his face too kind but it had to be him.
I struggled to concentrate on the menu as I searched through it for my next move. The server checked on me at least 4 times before I gave her my order.
And there I sat, waiting for my food, pretending to read Galnet on my tablet as I watched the men through the tavern crowd. Then it hit me... Galnet reported on the Aphrodite every year on the tragedy's Anniversary. In 2 months time, it would report on the 15th anniversary cold case.
I quickly typed a rough draft of an article on my pad. Mostly the usual facts. A few typical lines and interview quotes from the usual sources I had seen every year. As I wrote, the server returned to check on me.
"The men at the bar," I pointed, "What are they drinking?"
The server's expression was a warning as she told me. It didn't stop me. "Offer them another round on me with this message," I motioned her closer for a whisper, "Where is the Paradox?"
The look on her face went from concern to confusion, then back to concern. "Be careful with those two," she warned before turning away.
I watched as she delivered the round. She motioned toward me and both men turned to glance at me. Then she delivered the message. The younger man merely raised his drink in my direction and smiled. But the older man's head whipped back to me quickly. His glare bored through me and this time he did not turn away. He didn't touch his drink.
Got him. I thought.
The young man finished my drink and started to rise but the older man patted the younger on the shoulder and mumbled something as he grabbed my gift.
"Right, now this I gotta see!" the young man laughed loudly and watched the older man approach me.
The elder adjusted his belt and walked toward me, slipping his pinky finger down to check his zipper as made his way drunkenly across the room. His face was aged, even in the dark tavern. Gray in his stubble. Grays in his thinning hair. His face was too friendly. More of an aging, overweight priest than a pirate would have been my guess.
"Is this seat taken, Miss?" he smiled. The voice was as kind as the face.
I motioned for him to sit and saw the young man's jaw drop in disbelief. "Zoe Washburn, Galnet News," I offered my hand as he sat.
"Tony Doyle," he smiled. His hand was soft with a gentle grip, "Merchant."
"I'd like to ask you a few questions about---"
He interrupted, "The Aphrodite anniversary again so soon?"
I smiled and nodded.
He studied me for an uncomfortably long time but was silent.
"You were there, I understand?" my stylus poised over the tablet.
He didn't respond. An uncomfortable silence passed before I spoke again, "You, you..." I stuttered.
"This is bullshit," he smiled.
I was struck dumb. Frozen with no life support dumb. Like when you're watching the cracks in the canopy glass grow slowly with that sickening sound. He was on to me.
He studied the shot glass Housing the drink I bought him, spinning it slowly between his fingers, as if looking for flaws, "Every year it's the same."
Another long pause as his eyes bore through me again. My head was spinning.
"You people," his face remained friendly but his voice was an angry whisper. "Fucking let it go, already."
"What do you mean, sir?" I managed. "Reports put you there. The inquest. The attack. You... You were there."
"The inquest was bullshit! The Aphrodite exploded from the inside," he whispered angrily as if he had been repeating it for years. "We were paid to protect it, not attack it."
My mind races at this revelation. "Wait... Wait... Protect? Paid by who?"
He only shrugged, "The cruise of course. The ice geyser was in our territory at the time and they played the game."
"And the pods you sold?" I moved on too quickly.
Now it was his turn to hesitate. He finally downed the drink. To give himself time to think, I thought.
"Fed bullshit to feed their propaganda," he looked me level in the eye when he said it. "They wanted an excuse to take down our faction ... The public bought it... And they hunted us down."
Everything he told me was in earnest. It was a believable side of the story I had never heard before.
"So what's your side of the story?" I asked.
Another voice answered, "That will hafta wait," the younger man slurred. In his hands were three shot glasses. He carefully set two on the table, then offered the third to me. "You must drink with us first."
Behind him I thought I caught a glimpse of my server trying to catch my attention. She was shaking her head "no" with worried eyes.
"To the lovely lady," the younger man watched my drink a little too closely.
"To The Paradox," I raised my glass. Doyle smirked a dry chuckle at this and raised his glass.
"To Freedom," Doyle grinned. His teeth were smiling but his eyes weren't.
And the cold dark liquid burned my throat as I forced it down.
Neither man drank. They set their glasses on the table and stared at me.
The dizziness hit me quickly. Something was wrong.
(To be continued)