Too Young For This PlaQta'

[Joe Manning 0]

Closing in on his 27th birthday, he felt more like a man in his 50's. He leaned back in his flexible arm chair, turned away from the desk toward the viewport at the back of the office. Between the asteroids that tumbled slowly around the station, the stars of the Hyades cluster twinkled along the full spectrum of colors, a magnificent view. The only sound in the office was the trickling of the Andorian quicksilver fountain off to the side, a pleasant sound more like crystal than water. Relaxing, this office. Built for relaxation. In the palm of his right hand rested a glass of bourbon. The index finger of his left hand circled the rim slowly as he stared out at the Hyades space-vista. Why did he feel like he was 50, even in this lap of luxury? Why couldn't power come without the headache?

 

He allowed himself to melt into the stillness, fixating his attention on the twinkling of the stars, the trickling of the quicksilver, and the tickling of the glass. He wished he had something else to tickle ... something softer and warmer. Cherry was always a good time, but she we usually out doing a job for him. He could call on Sensational, the head ... 'masseuse' at the Fountain of Joy. Andorian women could truly do remarkable things with their hands. Having to pay always cheapened the experience for him somehow. What else was he going to do with the money, though -- add another ship to his fleet? No ... blue just wasn't his color. Red wasn't his color either. Now ... green ... green always seemed best. Pher. Pher was his favorite. He stopped circling the rim of the glass to rub at his temples. Twinkling. Trickling. Tickling ... tickling ...

 

"Mr. Redding is still waiting for you, sir," the speaker on the desk shattered the stillness and his concentration.

 

"I know!" he barked over his shoulder.

 

"I'm ... sorry, sir." Poor Debbie. Administrative assistant to a criminal kingpin was no easy task.

 

"Put him through."

 

The monitor behind him flickered on, but he did not bother to turn his chair. He sipped his bourbon, and then resumed circling the rim with his finger. "What do you have for me, Duke?"

 

"Still on Tranquility, Mr. Samus. The ribs are getting better. Word is the blockade will be lifted sometime today. As soon as I'm back on my feet, my crew can get back to work."

 

"Why do you sound uneasy, Duke?"

 

"Well ... bit of a problem, sir," Duke cleared his throat nervously. "I, uh, had a bit of a chat with your old buddy Joe -- "

 

"He's -your- 'old buddy,' Duke," Samus interrupted. "You've known him far longer than I have."

 

"Yeah, well, whatever ... " Duke cleared his throat again. "He put me in a tricky spot. It turns out his crew was helpin' out the Guardians with their Minos hunt. Somewheres along the way, they got hold of a data rod that has some sensitive info on it."

 

Duke waited for a response. " ... yyyes?" Samus prompted.

 

"Well, see ... turns out my name's on it. It's pretty solid proof, by the sound of it, that I been dealin' arms to the Rainmakers."

 

"I ... see." Samus lifted his glass and took another sip. Twinkling. Trickling. "And Joe intends to turn you in, does he?"

 

"No," Duke answered with a low growl to his voice. "Bastard plans to draw this out. Use the info against me. Hinted he'd want favors from me and that I'd have to pay up or he'd hand that rod right over to the Taurus boys. I don't know what he'll want from me, but I can imagine it won't be pretty and that it'll cost me and my crew more than I'm willing to pay. I ... know we've had this discussion in the past, sir ... but I think it merits revisitin' now -- I'd really appreciate your lettin' me take him and his crew out. For good."

 

"No, Duke ... I'm not going to let you do that," Samus circled the rim of his glass a little more quickly and firmly. "I think it best that you take your medicine, so to speak. After what you did to Manning and his crew in the Expanse, it might be said that you deserve whatever they dish out to you. I think it best that you do whatever he tells you to do. And do it without complaint."

 

Duke offered no response. All Samus could hear were sounds of exasperation emerging from the monitor. Samus continued, "Tell me ... Duke ... is Manning aware that you sold arms to the Rainmakers at my behest?"

 

"No. Of course not," Duke answered. "He remains as convinced as ever that Samus is a do-no-wrong, redeemed criminal who'd never hurt a fly. Whatever favors you done for him in the past, they won him over real good. But, uh ... he did mention that the Marshall here brought up your name. There might be other links between you and Minos that the Guardians picked up on."

 

"There are no links between me and Minos," Samus replied with a threatening edge in his voice.

 

"No, sir, of course not, I underst--"

 

"-You- sold the Rainmakers weapons, that is all you need be concerned with," Samus continued.

 

"I understand completely, sir."

 

"And you are going to make absolutely certain that no one is given reason to link me to Minos."

 

"Yes. Sir. I'll make sure Joe keeps that data in his pocket."

 

"I await your return, Duke. Goodbye," the screen behind Samus flickered off. He stared out at the stars, letting the silence back in, steadying his breathing, focusing on the twinkling and the trickling, relaxing his nerves and slowing his heartbeat. He raised the glass of bourbon and touched it to his head, hoping the coolness of the glass might chase away the pain. 27. Oh, to truly be 27 and to do the things that a 27 year old man should do ...

 

"Debbie ... open a channel to the Fountain of Joy."

 

Tickling ... tickling ... tickling ...