Crumbs
Detective Vim Lithesteel
(Art source unknown)
Index: Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13
Epilogue
A contrast of consequences
In the aftermath of a failed DCPS field operation, nothing much happened. Bar fixing the battle damages of that street and outright ignoring the residential, and corpse removal, the giant, oiled to perceived perfection corporate machine of Gahen did not react. On the outside, everything appeared just as before, even though a bunch of Taksian servant militant were no more. Not even the subsequent and rather mysterious disappearance of a prison ship; DCPS crew, inmates, and everything, registered on the planet wide info-links.
CorpoSec personnel kept their leisurely stature, patrol cruisers floating around and about. There was no official investigation of this brutal battle, even though private G-Net channels were abuzz with holo-vids, slides, and even audio recs of it. Instead, the local flatfoots and their media darlings suddenly and inexplicably became fully enamored of something. Apparently, there were these gangs of unruly Taz’aran boys and girls, gliding on their grav-skids all over the town. For sure, the journos and coppers claimed, these brigands were not only to no good, but plotting assassinations, digi-coin bank hacks, and even terrorist activities.
The CEO of Gahen Inc. made damn sure that every single official channel reported about this menace to society. CorpoSec made loud, pompous announcements, claiming to ceaselessly work towards the end of these “skidders”. That more patrol cruisers were already out screening the air-lanes. That more officers were posted at important intersections and Corpo buildings. Finally, that an Anti-Skidder special task force had been assembled, its goal to make the Parkcostreets safe for all Gahen Inc. employees.
Yet, whenever one would look for the actions which followed the words, they wouldn’t see much.
True, a gaggle of hoodlums were indeed arrested for a myriad of minor infractions and on the very same day of that brutal shootout. Holo-vids of their ringleader and his top henchmen circulated on G-Net as proof that CorpoSec was on top of things. The task force worked without pause and was, as one could very well see with their own eye, efficient. Of course, the reality of it all was that no one could keep teenagers in Corpo custody forever, especially when their crimes were scuffling with other skidders, reckless air sliding, and mugging Taz’aran kids for pocket change.
Patrols, whenever they finally flew across their long abandoned air-routes, looked not for modded grav-cars, but contraband coffee. With zeal, atypical for their kind, coppers actively ignored anything streetmade. It was as if modded cars did not exist. Not even once did they scan any of the ubiquitous trash barges, even though everyone and their grandmother already knew that one such grav-vehicle was transformed into a flying tank. Try as they must, Gahen Inc. could not censor the entire planetary G-Net, and they weren’t about to spend a small fortune doing so.
“This is exactly how Corpos operate,” – Vim began his explanation, a smirk on his face, barbecuing skewers with marinated meats – “not their problem, not their expenditure. Journos are much cheaper, and able to make their patron’s failures disappear.”
Lithesteel sat Noila and her Cousins for a chat, when it became apparent that Gahen Inc. weren’t after them or the refugees. The Terran made use of discarded wood, which he employed a field energy shield projector to crisp and turn into charcoal, for fuel. A metal box appropriated from the Cousins’ storage, he made into a makeshift barbecue, cutting a pair of tongs with his vibroblade.
Reen snuck a slice and gobbled it whole with visible delight, even though he burned his lips and tongue – “Got’em... mnom... kiddos off planit ‘sterday.”
The Terran clicked thrice with his tongs before flipping a number of burgers made with mixed spices, while Noila sliced loaves of reddish bread in half, smothering their fluffy guts in something which Lithesteel called “mushroom ketchup”. Pickled veggies, Nara style, soon joined the aromatic brown goodness and lie on the bread, ready to hug the steaming hot, juicy burgers.
“Then my job here is completed,” – winked the detective, as he served each a burger – “and I’ve made my employer, quite happy.”
Vim reached for a large bowl of potato salad, Bulgarian style, filling bowls with generous portions with the same swiftness he drew his sidearm. For this meal, the Terran had to substitute a number of ingredients, like for example the mayonnaise he made from Nara flipper eggs, and instead of Terran potatoes, he boiled Taksian white-root. Everything else inside came from that small shop Noila showed him earlier. Onion-like vegetables, fresh herbs, and even the oil, unprocessed of course, came from the “Totally not Wozzie” extensive supply of locally produced or sneakily smuggled (Vim was all for it either way) goods.
“Pipsqueak... your verdict?” – asked Vim, when the little one took a bite.
“Omph... yummy,” – following a cavalcade of eating noises, the fully recovered little girl blurted out along some bread crumbs – “an’ ya call eht trash burger, this?”
“During the war, we’ve got used to eating imaginary food. Crumbs... we celebrated over having a handful of dry field ration crumbs. Calling these trash burger was something another little girl, named Greta, came with.” – Lithesteel mellowed down what would otherwise be a horrid war recollection for her.
Noila the Cousins sharing a short glare, recollecting his earlier recollection of the Sirius War. There was a couple of star-seconds spent in thought, yet while they paused, Pipsqueak kept eating. Through the Cousins, Lithesteel arranged for a telepath to help with her memories. While it was nigh impossible to wipe everything clean, at least she forgot the terrible torture during her interrogation. As far as she was concerned, the Trashman came to save her.
“Chrispeh cheez, ‘dis whut it needs!” – squealed the little girl in between huge bites of burger, holding secure with both hands, mushroom ketchup all over her face.
Vim practically inhaled his burger, he and Noila shooting each other looks. Snuul and Reen, discovering to no surprise that the “potato” salad was utterly delicious, devoured most of it, while Pipsqueak vigorously demanded a second trash burger, but with that Nara-made “cheez”. Telling the child no was not an option, and they called Jarro. While the youth escorted Pipsqueak to the “Totally not Wozzie” shop, Lithesteel found plenty of time to explain the true nature of his task.
“See, when I told Noila that I wasn’t doing anything legal, I meant it.” – he placed a croquette in her hand, fresh from the makeshift fryer he’d made while the plasma welds on his boxy barbecue were cooling – “Out here, slagging those who are in the slaving business or swindling the Corpos, could definitely land you in the slammer.”
“Dhat coffee gig was soo sweet. Corse, wiff thets partols all ovah, tis a bit too dangerous nahw.” – grinning Reen loudly sipped from a can of Taksian beer.
“Needed the coin to pay you guys, buy a ton of stuff, but mostly refurbishing an already existing refugee network. That Nara grandpa I went to see at the hostel, he was my connection in what other Taksian runaways dubbed ‘the trail of crumbs’.” – Lithesteel clicked with his tongs, again three times, making sure that the skewers did not burn as he kept talking – “We did not know each other, yet with an ingenious contact system, a widely played card collector game created by the Nara called Miasna. All cards are metal, and sport a tiny crystaline chit capable of holographic projections. Wee bits of holo-data only, like the creature stats, their levels, and gear, but for someone in need of a vessel to smuggle information, invaluable.”
Noila nodded as she listened to Vim, her eyes shifting between his face and the delicious croquette, half of which she’d already eaten – “Mister ‘mployer knows ‘is stuff! Street girls use dheze to swipe odd bits of info, sash digi-cash fer a cold day, yah knows, on dha safe sides frem pimps...”
“Cosin’ an’ me,” – Snuul shoved Reen in the shoulder and this one gave him a scratched all over Miasna card, old, stamped with his own name – “us did sume holo-data lifthien bak in our day. Same waeh Noila snuck lots’a info ‘round flien in her food deliverieh scootah’.”
Lithesteel grabbed him a couple of skewers, moved the griddle away for smoldering heat and took a bite – “Obvious places to hide precious information are the best. Especially, when everyone, billions of kids including, are playing and collecting these cards. For an agency like CorpoSec to actually find something would be one in a trillion chance. Even harder, when a detective like myself, trained in covert investigation, is involved.”
“Yet even with the data from that card, I needed extra clues to piece everything together. This is why we pulled that con with these CorpoSec starport coppers. Giving them that single crate of coffee in exchange of what they assumed a simple cargo ship list, manifests, and months worth of holo-screen time, was of great help. By combing through it using my employer’s list and holo-slides, I discovered a number of missing Taksians ended up here. Piecing all tiny details which I gathered since my arrival on this planet, including everything provided by you three, was instrumental and significantly improved my process.”
He gave Noila a gentle nudge – “Of particular importance was that digi-bank visit. There I was able to link past events, previously either loosely related or not at all, into one singular hypothesis. What we discovered at that warehouse or rather, did not, suddenly transmogrified a working theory into terrifying reality.
“The presence of a secret DCPS task force was unfortunate to say the least, and nearly cost thousands their lives.” – Vim made a sign they could continue talking since Jarro linked him that Pipsqueak was picky about her Chrispeh cheez – “Yet, with their very actions, the ‘Takers’ solidified all loose ends of my ever so real hypothesis. People from my culture often say that there rarely is smoke without a fire.”
“Whatever bureau, be it the vile DCPS or the genocidal TISD, because their field team actively meddled in these matters, this became proof of their involvement. I no longer suspect that a top sciencecrat, probably a TISD reeducation facility chief, sold his or her prisoners. Literally anyone who could afford a fee, even those who could not, all became pawns in their game for bribery and promotions.” – Lithesteel explained the mass trafficking angle, digi-bank money laundering and finance, a fake front foundation to boot – “That parasite Splunger and his cohort, they did operate with the donations of honest, hardworking people. What they did to all those people is literally, monstrous.”
“Those who trafficked you are scum and there is no argument about this.” – the Terran continued in between hefty bites from his skewers and sips of beer – “However, though they do harm and exploit many Taksians, many more are given a chance to live a life free of the Directorate. Thus, I was contracted to make sure that this traffic hub was made safer and, on a grimmer note, uncover what had occurred to all who vanished.”
“On a terraformed planet, one not that far away, there is a tiny colony of former Gahen Inc. ‘employees’. Led by Vinson, a Terran morale officer, they secured their freedom, schlocking an entire space pirate crew very, very dead. This bunch was hired by the she-corpo, a lowly exec working for the same company, desperate to secure her own career and save Gahen Inc’s face. Yet, I was not contracted by any of these men and women.” – as Vim explained, Reen screened the local G-Net node, quick to find bits of blog rumors about some snide bitch named Berul, paired with grainy holo-slides of one space pirate craft called “Wyrmblade”.
“There is that kiddo, living on another dustball. Named Dibsi he is, and his family was trafficked by the same vile network. Ended up scrappers on that no-name rock, where everyone slowly dies from inhaling that dust. Long story short, that place is cleaner and safer now, defended by former Taksian soldiers, defectors. It is their families, mostly the children, who never got there.”
Reen canted his head and wiped all traces of mushroom ketchup, reaching for a skewer – “Lem’meh guess. Vanieshed all ‘ere, on the starpoart, right at the end of their liddle travil?”
Lithesteel sighed and, eyes wincing, deliberated further – “You have to understand something about us Terrans. Token few, if any, would even explore the possibility of letting a slaver network... exist. I am I-Sec, a citizen lawman, one of these few men. We operate in secret, go undercover on distant planets or space stations in order to find missing people and subvert said trafficking rings.”
The detective produced a small list of holo-slides. Some were taken from the gene-graft company’s warehouse, others, from the crashed DCPS dropship. A device, one automatic medical tank, which appeared a prototype, was further extrapolated from all the clues Vim gathered so far. He had cobbled together a real terrifying reason why many trafficked children were vanishing straight from this planet’s starport.
“Being trafficked, there aren’t any official files on them. For all intents and purposes, just like yourself, they are, nor were ever here. Those sold into sex slavery or being chopped organ by organ, if they are very, very lucky, could be found. However, once shoved in these genetic recostructioning tanks and transformed into some gene-grafting DNA component, there is no hope. It is as if they never existed...”
Noila trembled, remembering her episode at Noverna’s building – “Wha-what would dhat Taker do wif...”
“Bringing it back to his sciencecrat masters he’d have earned a promotion. They would then reverse engineer this monstrosity and feed it countless millions of children. Through the death of the innocents, Directorate leaders and top bureaucrats could’ve lived even longer lives, their corpulent bodies stuffed full of expensive gene-grafts.” – Vim spat every word as if he was physically punching said bureaucrats in their smug faces.
“I did my job, and found the missing kiddies. Couldn’t have done it and so well without you all.” – said the Terran, allowing himself a smirk since Noila hugged his hand, and, batting her eyelashes, smooched his cheek – “Now that the main body of work is completed, all intelligence gathered, and evidence processed, I do have some news for you three.”
“Most Taksians, like you and your Cousins, they were separated from their parents, worked to the bone. Eventually, you assumed this would be your lot in life, and your kin, gone.” – the three looked at his face with such intensity, Snuul’s mouth open, Reen fiddling with his goggles, Noila quietly sobbing as she felt the hope in Vim’s voice – “Yet, against all odds, your uncle endured years of back breaking factory labor. He is alive, on that terraformed planetoid, and remarried.”
There followed a short, intense, but happy silence.
“Congrats,” – smiled the Terran, showing them a name from his list and a simple holo-slide of their uncle, his wife and two children – “you are uncles and aunt, now.”
Pipsqueak and Jarro chose this moment to return, the girl holding a tiny baggie full of Crispeh cheez, her favorite kind. Not until all food was and beverages were gone, and the kids asleep, could Lithesteel and Noila share a word about the future.
“Ye’r stayin’ or goen, eh mister ‘mployer?” – the girl asked with a smile both sad and happy as they lie in her bed.
“Oh, I am most definitely going.” – Vim was swift to reply and his grin was wide and full of joy.
Noila pouted.
“There,” – the detective snickered and ruffled her hair – “you did it again!”
“What... I did what ‘gain?” – sniffled she.
“You are going to skulk and pout or... ” – said he and looked her straight in the wet eyes – “coming with me?”
“Pinch muh cheek, poke muh nose ef I dho-eth ‘gain.” – The girl smooched him – “Promise?”
“No.” – was his reply.
“No?!”
“I’ll be all silent and mysterious like, then feed you a homecooked meal on the morrow.” – his every word promised new and delectable foods – “A fiver’s worth.”
“No.” – said she, poking his cheek.
“No?!”
“A full tenner’s worth of dinner, no more, no less!”
“Oh, already negotiated the meal price, did she?”
“Yes.”
“Yes?”
“Hon, muh gig nahw is I fly ya ‘ere and dhere, all noice and speedieh-like. Ya shoot, dho yer ‘nvestigating stuff, all noice, all goodun-like. We fly back home. Ya feed muh, I ‘elp channel all worries away using muh nightly ways.”
“Fair.” – agreed he with the same calm smile which made her grin when they met each other for the first time – “Though that very much looks like what couples do.”
“Yes?” – anxious Noila blinked, eyes locked with his.
“Yes.” – replied he, fixing her hair.
(╭ರ_•́)
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I am so glad they are staying together. And the cousins found some relatives. I definitely vote for more stories of these two. They make a really fun couple
Great ending!