Rebel (The United Federation Marine Corps) (5 page)

Chapter 9

Michi took a sniff of the tuna casserole.  It was one of Talla’s recipes, a real recipe, with real cooking, not just punching something into the fabricator.  Michi was far from a domestic goddess, but frankly, she was going a little stir-crazy in Tamara’s apartment.  She had been Tamara’s guest for two weeks:  she had cleaned the condo five times, and this was her third attempt at manual cooking. 

It wasn’t Tamara who was the problem.  Her new roommate was funny, intelligent, and a great companion.  It was just the being cooped up, away from school and her friends, that ate at her.  She had gone to the WRP several more times, but the bustle there as the staff considered their reactions to the ever-increasing pressure being levied by the jacks pointedly bypassed her.  They didn’t have much time for a girl who hadn’t even been a member, but was merely a girlfriend of a member.

The casserole smelled good, at least, much better than her attempt at spaghetti puttanesca the night before.  Tamara had tried to dutifully eat it, but after two bites, both girls had broken out into peals of laughter before dumping the sodden mess in the recycler.  They’d dialed up breaded cutlets and a salad on the fabricator and opened a bottle of malbec instead.

Michi glanced at the old-fashioned cuckoo clock above the holo.  Tamara would be home in another ten or fifteen minutes.  She placed the casserole on the table so it would cool, then started to rush to the shower to clean up.  She had stripped off her sweat top when she had to stop. 

What am I doing?
she thought. 
We’re not married!

She shook her head as she grabbed the dirty top and pulled it back on.  She must be going crazy.  Even with Franz, Michi was far from meek and submissive.  She resisted giving her pits a sniff.  Tamara was just going to have to accept her, rank or not.

She plopped down on the overstuffed red couch and asked the house PA to turn on the news.  The lead story was the four “hoodlums” who had been arrested for “civil disobedience” the day before.  The teenagers had been taunting the jacks, and while it wasn’t reported on the news, several jacks had beaten them senseless. 

Michi felt a slight twinge of guilt, one she quickly suppressed.  She knew she had instigated the current round of unrest when she killed that jack.  She hadn’t really intended to kill anyone, merely administer a beating, and despite the thrill she had felt at the time, it was still gnawing at her.  She wished she could confide in someone.  She had almost brought it up to Cheri two days before at the WRP, but Cheri was up to her ass in alligators, so Michi just let it lie.

“Hey there, roomie!” Tamara said as she came in the door. “Um, something actually smells good.  You order take out this time?”

“Very funny, haha.  I made it, and this time, you’re going to love it.”

“You sure?  Cooking doesn’t seem to be your forte, girl.”

Tamara Veal was a Class One employee of the company, a free citizen.  She had been born on the planet to two indentureds, and her parents were still under the yoke, but that status was not something that could be inherited.  The courts had upheld that for the last 70 years, and it was accepted by even the most conservative corporation now.

Tamara still worked for PI, though.  She was a component engineer working on QC for the organics used in a series of Propitious Interstellar’s products.  The job paid adequately, enough for her to pay for the condo and make payments on her parent’s debt (which was twice as large now as when they’d signed their contracts).

Michi had been surprised at how close she had become to Tamara.  Michi didn’t make many female friends, and in many ways, Tamara was so very different than her.  Petite, hard-working, and very fashion conscious, she seemed to be a polar opposite of the large, dress-in-whatever Michi.  However, they shared a warped and wicked sense of humor, and Michi thoroughly enjoyed her company.

Tamara shucked her company overalls, leaving them in a pile on the floor.  Wearing only a white tank and panties, Michi could see her myriad of tattoos.  These were not temporary tats.  They were done the old-fashioned way with ancient tattoo guns and covered almost all of her skin that was hidden by her work clothes.  Michi had been shocked the first time she saw them, but she was also fascinated and wanted to examine them in more detail, but so far, she acted as if the tattoos were nothing out of the ordinary.  Someday, though, she was going to get the background on all that skin art.

The two roommates bypassed the table, instead sitting down on the couch with the casserole between them, each digging in with a spoon.  They finished up the previous night’s malbec while watching a game show.  Michi was smart, and she knew most of the answers to the questions, but the quicker Tamara usually beat her to the punch. 

When the host asked the three contestants for the name of the first cloned dinosaur, Michi launched into the attack, jumping on Tamara with a pillow, smothering the smaller girl so Michi could yell out “Annabelle!”

Tamara struggled underneath Michi, but the smaller girl had no chance.  Finally Michi let her up.

“You cheated!” Tamara yelled out.  “And you spilled the food!” she added, taking a small handful of the spilled tuna casserole from the seat of the couch and flicking it a Michi.

“So sue me.  I got the answer right, didn’t I?”

“You know what they say?  Payback’s a motherfucker,” Tamara said, licking the tuna residue off her fingers.

Michi was brought up in the Clan, and good Clan girls just didn’t curse.  She was somewhat fascinated at both how easily Tamara swore as well as her prodigious library of profanity.

“Hey, pass me the wine,” Tamara told Michi.

“Sorry, all out,” Michi said, holding the wine bottle upside down.  “You got any more?”

“We drank it all?  Oh well.  Have you ever had Snow Wine?” she asked.

“Snow Wine?  Never heard of it,” Michi said, wiping the bit of casserole Tamara had flicked at her off of her face.

“Oh, you’ve got to try it.  Farking brills!”

She jumped up and ran to the small pantry.  She reached in and brought out an opaque blue bottle.

“This is a new synth from Iverson Beverage.  We’re getting the license to fabricate it, so we’ve got cases of it for development,” she said, hopping over the back of the couch, landing in a sitting position.

“And you just happened to take some home?”

“QC, my darling, QC.  I’ve got half of the organics going into it, so I have to know what the distilled product is like, right?”

“Good enough for me,” Michi said, reaching for the bottle. 

She took along swig, then handed the bottle back to Tamara. 

Woah!  That is pretty good!
she thought.

“Not bad,” she said instead.

“Not bad my grandmother’s hairy snatch,” Tamara exclaimed.  “Well, if you only think it’s not bad, then I guess you don’t want any more,” she added, tipping the bottle up for a swig.

“No, no, I didn’t say that.  I think I need to taste it again,” Michi protested, grabbing the bottle.

The Snow Wine had more of a kick than Michi was used to, and she was feeling pretty comfortable when the game show ended and the hourly news minute came on.  It was a quick snippet of the head of PI security stating that after an investigation, the security team that arrested the four “hoodlums” had been cleared of any wrongdoing.

“Oh, suck my balls,” the half-drunk Tamara said to the holo image.  “Cleared my ass.”

“I feel sorry for the four boys,” Michi said.  “Seems like overkill, but they did sort of ask for it.”

“Fuck they did.  A month ago, the jacks ignore them.  But with that drug killing of the jack in the Gut, the rest of the jacks are all on edge.”

Michi’s heart faltered a beat.

“We’ve never talked about that.  What do you make of it?” Michi asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

“What, that some jack got jacked?” she said, laughing at her own little joke. 

“No, really.”

“What’s there to think?  Some stupid jack got involved with Light, taking payments, probably to look the other way.  He pissed off the wrong people and got ghosted.”

Michi felt the Snow Wine cloud her head. She knew she should just shut up and change the subject.

“No, that’s not what happened,” she said instead.

“And how would you know that, my dear friend,” Tamara said, taking another long swallow before handing the bottle back to Michi.

“Because I did it.”

“Because you did what?”

“Because I killed him,” Michi said, feeling the weight of the world lifting off her shoulders.

“Ha, right!  And I’m the Chairman of the Federation.  Bow down before me!”

“Really, I did it.  I killed him. And he wasn’t involved with Light or anything like that.”

Something in Michi’s tone must have registered through Tamara’s slightly muddled brain because she stopped, took the bottle of Snow Wine out of Michi’s hands, and placed it on the table.

“What are you saying?” she asked calmly.

“I didn’t know he would die.  I was pissed about Franz, and I just wanted to jump a jack, to pay them back.  But somehow, I kicked him too hard, and I broke his neck.”

The momentary sense of relief she felt by unburdening dissipated as Michi felt a dread creep over her.  Why had she said that?  It was her secret, and it should have gone to the grave with her. 

She risked a glance up at Tamara, who sat there mouth open in shock.

“You’re serious about this, right?” she asked her.

“Yeah.”

“Holy frack!” she finally exclaimed, jumping up.  “By St. Chuck’s ass!  You fucking ghosted a jack?  You’ve got to tell me exactly what happened!”

She sat back down on the couch cross-legged, facing Michi, taking her hands in hers.

Michi turned towards her and crossed her legs as well, their knees touching.  She took a deep breath, and then started from the beginning, with her vague concept of revenge and through all the events of the night.  Tamara was quiet the entire time, her eyes sparkling with excitement.  When she was done, she sat there, waiting for her roommate’s response.

Tamara finally broke her silence with, “Well, roomie, I thought I’d heard it all.  But you, you take the cake.  I’m truly amazed.”

“So you are OK with that?  I mean, I’m a murderer.”

“OK with it?  Michi girl, I am freakin’ impressed, and rather jealous.  You struck back at the assholes when all anyone else does it pass out leaflets and jabber at rallies.  You took matters into your own hands and got some revenge for your beau.  But it’s not over now.”

“It’s not?” Michi asked.

“No fucking way.  You and I are going to do it again!”

Chapter 10

“You really expect to attract attention in that?” Tamara asked Michi, pointing at the baggy sweats and oversized cozy Michi had put on.

“What’s the matter with what I’m wearing?”

“You look like the marshmallow man.  You’ve got the curves, so use them,” Tamara said.

“I’m not putting on rentgirl rags, if that’s what you mean.  I’m going to need to be able to move.  And we don’t want to attract too much attention anyway.  Secrecy, right?  In-and-out like phantoms, right?  Wasn’t that what you said?”

“Oh, my innocent little Michi,” Tamara said sarcastically.  “Look at my bammers,” she told Michi, turning around and pointing at the black, molecularly-thin tights that were currently in fashion.  “Shows my ass, right?  But still, not flashy enough to attract attention unless some guy is right behind me.  With your sweats, Georgina O’Merkhin herself wouldn’t turn a head,” she said, referring to the current flavor-of-the-month holo sex-kitten star.

“We need to get one of them to want to come with us, not bore one to death.  Go back to your room and put on a pair of your dance tights, at least.  And put this on,” she added, reaching to the floor and picking up one of her small tops that she had dropped there.

“Really?” Michi asked, dangling the top from one finger.  “Don’t you think it’s a little small?” 

“Of course it is, girl.  You’ve got a little more to stuff inside than I do, but so what?  You want him to be thinking about something else before you go all highlander samurai on his ass.”

Michi laughed out loud at that.  “Highlander samurai?” 

“Yeah, I thought of it last night.  Brills, right?  You’re First Family, and Clan.   You’ve got them both by birth, and samurais are pretty kick-ass.”

Tamara was excited, and her voice was a pitch higher than normal.  The thought of going out and jumping a jack had hyped her up. 

Michi went back into her room, slid off her sweats, then rooted around her dance kit for a pair of clean tights.  All were dirty, so she took the pair with the least amount of smell and put them on.  The top Tamara had given her was another story, though.  It was tiny!  She pulled it over her head and worked it down, trying to put everything in place.  She took a quick look in the mirror and almost took it right back off.  It didn’t cover much of anything, and while not a prude, Michi was still Clan, and as such, she was not as open as her roommate. In the end, she just zipped up her cozy, hiding the mini-top from view.

“That’s better,” Tamara said as Michi came out.  “Let’s go get this done.”

Michi was still hesitant about this “mission,” as Tamara kept referring to it.  Last time, she had been running on emotion and a mindless drive for vengeance.  Now, she wasn’t as driven.  Killing the jack had extinguished part of the flame that burned within her.  She had never envisioned actually killing a man, but now that it had happened, she was nervous as the two left the apartment and started downtown. 

This was not a “kill” mission, however, as she had stressed to Tamara.  In the first place, killing the jack before had been a fluke.  Unless you used a weapon of some sort, killing with one blow almost never happened, despite what was shown in the flicks.  It took endless pummelings to have the potential for death.

In the second place, Michi realized that she really didn’t have the stomach for it.  She hated the jacks and all they stood for, but killing someone took a person into another realm, one to which she really didn’t want to travel.  Michi still clung to her past self: the dancer, the treasured First Family girl, the student, the fiancé.  She liked that life, and she was afraid of the violent undertow which threatened to sweep her into a darker, more sinister world.

Without Tamara, she probably would have never ventured out again like this, eventually going back to her family and apologizing.  She knew they would embrace her return.  Instead, she was following her half-crazy roomie out into the night to jump a jack.  Maybe she was the half-crazy one for agreeing to it. 

They made their way towards the Gut again.  The lack of working surveillance vaulted it to the top of their preferred hunting grounds.  The shrine Michi had used before was on the other side of the Slab, so this time, they stopped a few blocks short of the Gut, gave each other a kiss on the cheek as if parting (for the sake of any surveillance recordings), and then split up.  Michi went into an industrial parts store where she changed cozies in the toilet before coming out and walking into the Gut itself.

There was an old statue of some ancient Scottish hero in the middle of the Gut, a testament to when this was a high-end neighborhood.  The fine townhomes had fallen a long way into disrepair.  Michi stopped at the foot of the statue and waited for Tamara.

“You want Light?” a furtive voice whispered to her. 

Michi ignored the bundled person, unsure if the pusher was a man or woman, young or old.  She kept glancing around, wondering how long she should wait.  She felt far more vulnerable this time than before.  She knew it was all in her mind, but that didn’t make her feelings any less impactful.

Tamara finally sauntered up in a bright pink cozy with silver spangles.  She stood out like a bird of paradise.  The rentgirls and boys tended to the colorful, but Tamara put them all to shame.

“Not too conspicuous there, are you?” Michi asked as they met up.

“Don’t you ever read the spy novels?” Tamara asked.  “With all this glitter, who’s gonna remember my face?”

“If we’re planning this based on novels and flicks, then we’re in trouble before we even begin,” Michi grumbled without acknowledging that what Tamara had said made sense, garnered from a fictional spy story or not.

The two women started aimlessly walking, trying to look like they fit in.  The Gut was not totally devoted to activities that pressed the boundaries of legality—or broke right through them, for that matter.  The office buildings in the center of town rose to the west of the Gut, and some of the newly renovated condos so high in demand were just to the east, so the upscale workers simply walked through the Gut to and from their condos.  It wouldn’t be long before the real estate on which the Gut perched would be taken over to build more condos, coffee shops, and hookah bars.

At this hour, most of the workers were already snug in their condos.  There were some stragglers, however, mostly people who had stayed for dinner or to put in the late hours in their attempt to rise through the drek to the upper echelons of power.  They walked with their heads down, ignoring the jetsam and flotsam that flowed throughout the Gut.  Michi wondered if they were afraid that if they looked, they’d see a fellow worker indulging in what the Gut had to offer.

“Check this out,” Tamara whispered before flouncing up to one head-down walker.

“Hey there, stud, you up for a drink?” she asked the man who merely put his head down further and sped up his pace.

“Told you this stuff works,” she said to Michi as she came back, using one hand to sweep over her pink cozy.  “I know that guy.  He hit on me last year at one of our recertification courses.”

Michi had to stifle a laugh.  Tamara was one surprise after another.  The girl had no filter.

They wandered about the Gut for over an hour, dismissing several prospects for various reasons ranging from one jack’s wedding ring catching the light as he walked his rounds to another being joined by two more jacks just before the two hunters closed in.

Michi had felt uncomfortable when they first started walking.  The Gut was not the kind of place she ever really thought she would be exploring.  But as they hunted for a victim, she forgot about the seediness of the hunting grounds as her excitement started to take over.  She had always been competitive, but this took it to a new level, one that quite frankly gave her a rush. 

A few years ago, a cousin had come back on leave from where he served as a captain in the Marines.  At a family gathering, he had started on his “sea stories,” as he called them.  He had been in the fighting during the Trinocular War, and to the rapt attention of the younger cousins, said that the thrill of combat was addictive, that nothing else matched up to it.  At the time, Michi thought that was just bluster, but as she searched the warrens for her prey, she thought she just might understand what he’d been trying to say.  Michi had been reticent about Tamara’s mission, but now that she was on the hunt, she was eager to get to it.

“Over there, at your eleven o’clock,” she whispered to Tamara, when she finally spotted a likely target.

“Eleven freakin’ what?”

Eleven o’clock. Like in the flicks.  Twelve is right in front of us.  Eleven is ahead and just to the left.  Over there, across the street.”

“Why didn’t you just say that instead of going Hollywood on me,” Tamara grumbled.  Then, “Ah, I see what you mean.  Mr. Jack seems interested in us.”

“Mr. Jack” was a thirty-something, lower-level security specialist, based on the patch on his shoulder.  He was a little old for his rank, and Michi saw something in his eyes as he took in the two women that made her positive he was the type to throw around what little authority he possessed.

Tamara immediately started crossing the street, and Michi had to hurry to catch up.  The jack’s eyes lit up as the two walked up to him. 

“And what are you two ladies doing out and about this fine evening?” he asked them as Michi could feel his gaze peeling off their cozies as he openly looked them up and down.

“Nothing, sir,” Tamara said.  “Just out for some fun.  Crunching actuarial numbers all day is
so
boring, and we need a little excitement.”

With a number of insurance firms downtown, that little comment could throw suspicion in that direction, if it came to that.  Michi had to give her roommate props.  Michi hadn’t even thought to come up with a backstory.

“Excitement?  Plenty of places for that, ladies.  The Gut, though, can be a little rough for office girls.”

“Oh, me and Stacy like it rough,” Tamara said with a throaty laugh.  “Maybe you know someplace, though, where we can go to find something exciting?”

“Maybe I do and maybe I don’t,” he said with a laugh. 

“Oh, you security guys are supposed to know all the naughty places, right?  Where things happen?  Maybe one where we could go but that’s not, too, well, dangerous?”

The jack was eyeing both of them.  Michi wondered if she should have unzipped her cozy a little, but doing that now would be too blatant.  They had to tease this fish before setting the hook.

Michi was glad Tamara was the one doing the talking.  This wasn’t her style.  Michi would rather have simply called out the man and gone at it.  Finesse was not something she had in her bag of tricks.

“What about her?” the man asked Tamara, pointing at Michi.

“Oh, she’s a quiet one, she is, out in public, but get her behind closed doors, she’s a tiger,” Tamara told him.

“Well, can you help us?  Where should we go?  But remember, we want it naughty, but not where we’re going to get in any trouble.  You know how the insurance companies are about moral standing.”

The jack seemed to be considering it for a moment before making up his mind.  He got on his radio and said, “Helmon, I’m taking my 30 now.  You’ve got it.”

He turned to Tamara and said, “Yeah, I know.  I run this section,” which Michi knew was a gross exaggeration, “so I know all the places. But two ladies like you can get into trouble getting there, so I’m going to escort you there and let them know you’re under my protection, OK?”

Hook set.

“Oh, you’d do that?” Tamara asked excitedly.  “Stacy, you hear that?  I told you this would be sparking!

“Lead on my knight,” she said, taking the jack by his arm.  “I’m so excited.”

“You excited too?” the jack asked Michi over his shoulder.

You don’t know how much
, she thought.

Michi didn’t know what the jack had planned.  It was doubtful that he would have actually led the two into danger, and 30 minutes wasn’t much time for anything.  He probably wanted to impress them with his importance and then set up something after he was off duty.  It didn’t matter.  The guy was slimy, and Michi felt her endorphins kick in.

The jack led the two down Julian Street, which was far too open for Michi to strike.  She wondered if she was going to have to fake the need to take a pee when the jack turned down a smaller alley.

“This is a shortcut, so don’t be too scared,” he said, full of self-importance.  “I’m here with you, but don’t try this way alone.”

Michi decided she hated him.  Not that hating him was necessary, but it added a certain spice to what was going to happen.

Halfway down the alley, Michi coughed twice.  It was corny, but that was their signal.

“Oh, my shoe’s coming undone,” she said, stopping and bending at the waist as if to tie her shoe. 

The jack stood over her, taking an unabashed look at her ass.

“Hey, jack,” Michi said.

The jack looked up just as Michi’s roundhouse kick caught him flush on the side of his face.  The jack stumbled, but didn’t go down.

“What . . .?” he started, coming back with his fist cocked to swing at her.

Michi leveled a front kick at his stomach, missing and hitting him on his chest harness, but knocking him back a full meter.