IOC Raitche

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Re: IOC Raitche

Post by Amazee Dayzee »

Good thing that they found him then huh? Nice work once again Welshy!
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Re: IOC Raitche

Post by Welsh Halfwit »

TWENTY

“It always amazes me,” Solomon confided to Charlton as forensics scoured the latest battle scene, “how fast hired guns can vanish when they know the tide’s against them.”

“It helps that the Council troops were told to secure us, not kill the attackers,” Charlton replied as he looked over the char grilled wreckage of the shot vehicle. “It was only semi official and we’re going to get a bit of flack over it. Leastways,” he added, crouching to look into the blackened heap, “the attack saved several city cops too. That might get us a few credits. I’ll send our condolences for the one who died. How’s the other one?”

“Wounded,” the cross said, looking around to see if anyone else was looking at them, “but the paramedics say he’ll survive. The job’ll pay his bills.”

“There’s that at least,” Charlton agreed. “They did a pretty good job on this car,” he complained. “There’s not much we’ll be able to pull from that. Perhaps the frame will…”

“We have the plate,” Solomon advised, pointing to the nearest warehouse where a buckled and cracked licence plate was impaled in the wall. Forensics were tutting about how to get it down.

“It’ll be faked,” Charlton warned. “Or cloned. Or not on the records. Or some other excuse that tells us nothing.” He stood up, feeling the wind in his Norveggian fur. “I suppose we need to hope that Cheech will say something worth listening to.”


The multi-millionaire looked around the grey room unhappily as Hayley watched from the observation room. She was readying herself for her entry when Minika spoke from the back corner of the room. “I’d not go in tough,” the Lappinean said. Hayley looked at her and she gestured, turning her padded palm upwards. “He’s a top ranker,” she said, making Hayley thankful she’d heard that right. “He likes to be in control. Attack that with a sledge, he’ll shut down. Attack his wall with a feather and you’ll be through before he ever knows he’s under attack.”

“Thank you,” Minika,” Hayley said testily. “I’ve done interrogations before.”

“Of top ranking industrialists with government level lawyers,” Minika replied sweetly, fluttering her eyelashes. “Trust me. Softness opens doors.”

“I’ll take it under advisement,” Hayley replied. Now she was in a quandary. She’d been planning to go on the soft track but, now, if she did it it would look like she was taking instruction from the ‘prisoner’. Which wouldn’t do. She stepped out of the room, took one step in the corridor and opened the door to the interview room.


“Why am I here,” Cheech asked.

“Well, we’ve been looking to talk to you and it seemed more civilized to do it here than on the field of fire, don’t you think?”

“I want my solicitor.”

“As is your right,” Hayley agreed. “Of course, you’d only be wasting your money and their time. We’re looking for answers at the moment. Charges come later. And that’s if we’ve got enough to make them. Of course, if we don’t, we’d just have to release you pending…” She took a look at his expression as the reality of that came to him. She wanted a question of her own answered and this was the time. She wanted to know if the squad at the port was there to save this guy or kill him. The widening of his eyes and the slight skip in his tone as he said he could hold off on the solicitor for a while then told her the second option was the right one. “We’ve been looking into illegal transactions involving Raicarra and elements in the new colonies,” Hayley confided. “It’s come to our attentions that they’ve been using you and the shipping company no-one knows you own to…” She paused for a second. “Can I ask? Why DO you have a secret shipping company anyhow?”

He managed half a smile as he wrung his hands under the table. “Sometimes I like to get away without half my staff knowing, like? I’m pretty sure nothing’s wrong with that? I keep it secret for tax purposes.”

“Hmm, Well, we’ll have to let the tax office know what we know later, I suppose. But it’s not totally important.” She reached for an audio player and put it on her side of the table but didn’t turn it on yet. “Who do you think sent those people to get you today,” she asked.

“Like I’d know,” Cheech lied. “All of a sudden, everyone’s interested in me and I don’t know why. Feds, Police, Raicarra…”

“Government ministers,” Hayley added humorously. “We were there earlier,” she admitted, “got the talk on tape… Well, not tape exactly. We recorded it.”

“Was wondering what ‘tape’ was. So you’ve saved my life twice today, yes?”

“Hmm. The world’s full of assassins today and they’re all on your back. Now, we can get you out of this but we need to know what we’re in.”

“I think it’s time for a Solicitor.”

“Of course. You sure you can trust them?” Hayley leaned back in her chair and picked up her pen, which had fallen from her pocket. “I mean, we didn’t tell the killers where you were hiding so who knows about the shuttle business?”

“My… Ah.”

“There’s a few federal ones we can get over here,” Hayley asserted. “Not, possibly, as high powered but well versed in the laws. If you need to, you can always revert to your own after that.” She paused over the ‘play’ button. “Nah,” she mused, “that’d be best left for when they’re here.” She pressed her comm and asked Dalmar to get one of the duty lawyers. “You’ll like them,” she told Cheech. “They can do pro bono work.” He grimaced.
“In your case, they might do it for the ‘shop window’ effect,” she added.


Mikkel sat at Solomon’s desk, accessing his mail to see if Harvest Moon had reported in. He found that the rode...uh, the Mican had sent in a file of his musings and a small pack of pictures taken from a spy camera he must have been wearing at the time. It was beginning to become something of a web, this thing. He ignored Harvest’s comments about his landlady as that was more of an open secret these days and ploughed into the part where Moon had followed the Raitchian – Mikkel didn’t think that was co-incidence either – to the spaceport. He had a similar feeling that the Mican was important too. And he knew why. Unlike Harvest, he knew that Raicarra had arranged for a specialist to inspect and, if possible, reclaim the plates IOC Pandera was holding and he couldn’t shake the thought this Mouse was the inspector. And he was being paid cashy credits by someone who was suspected of being linked to Calavix. Were the criminals trying to steal the plates back again?


He decided to forward the report to Pandera.
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Re: IOC Raitche

Post by Amazee Dayzee »

Really am intrigued at what his report is going to end up including! Another impeccable story!
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Re: IOC Raitche

Post by Welsh Halfwit »

TWENTY-ONE

Stepping out of the licenced betting establishment, Charlton walked back to the neighbouring mini supermarket’s parking bays and got back into his vehicle. He put the printed documents into his inner jacket pocket before Nolly got into the passenger seat with two packs of sandwiches. “Any luck, boss,” she asked, selecting the seeded cheese and chives for herself.

“Won’t know for a few hours,” Charlton replied, looking with a touch of disdain at the one’s she’d bought for him. “No Salva steak,” he asked.

“Nope,” she replied. “Leastways not on any shelf I could reach.”

“Should have made you take the steps,” he grumbled, reaching over to pull his seatbelt on. “No crumbs,” he warned.

“Any word about Cheech,” she enquired.

Charlton nodded. “He’s talking with a federal approved Solicitor now. Apparently his own solicitor is one of a very few people who know he’s a silent partner in that shuttle company. Dalmar’s doing an electronic dive into that aspect. As it is, we’re going to be checking out Willar Dayley.”

“The, uh, Minister for…”

“...interstellar development, yes,” Charlton finished when he realised Nolly didn’t actually know the full title or had forgotten it for the moment. Or had she just let him finish it for politeness? Whatever. He took a bite from his sandwich. “I’ve asked Solomon to meet us there. Dayley’s likely to be guarded.”

“He wath at the meeting.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Charlton chided, reaching over with a padded cloth to clear a bit of cheese off the windscreen.

“Sorry.” She swallowed. “Reckon he’ll blame Raicarra?”

“I’d be surprised if he didn’t,” Charlton replied, opening up the console between them to reveal two small bottles of water. He’d told Nolly they were there, which was why the little Marsher hadn’t bought any. He took one for himself and squirted a little of the fluid into his mouth to wash down the bitten sandwich. She waved away the offer ofa bottle for now. “I’m wondering what he’ll say about the hitter he sent after Cheech. If, of course, he DID send him.”

“You think it was someone else,”

“What in this case ISN’T someone else?”


Solomon met them as they pulled up outside the gates to parliament and hopped in the back seat, knees up to his chin behind Charlton. He wished he’d gotten in the other side. Handing off the federal warrant to his senior, he struggled to make himself comfortable as Charlton showed the warrant to the guard. The busby hatted Raitchian unhappily allowed the car through and, Solomon reckoned, called ahead to warn everyone. He wondered how many illegal bottles of duty free were being put into hidden safes right now. He didn’t much care as he pulled up outside the main door, where a Sergeant-at-arms was coming down to meet them.


The trio got out and, after remote locking the car, followed the liveried individual up the stairs to the main building. Charlton asked for the Minister and the Sergeant said he’d need them to wait whilst he called the office. “No, I don’t think so,” Charlton replied. “I’d rather the actual target of our attentions didn’t get too much foreknowledge. If you could just show us the way?” He gestured politely. The Sergeant muttered something about people pushing their luck and led on until they came to a large, ornate, door. They waited a moment until Nolly caught up and knocked, ignoring the members of parliament walking the corridors and trying to pretend the IOC people weren’t there. One or two had even reversed course or suddenly diverted into other offices.

The door opened after a moment and the trio faced the same Human Nolly had seen at the meeting earlier. “The minister’s not here,” she said. “He’s on a trade mission with city leaders in the Southern Continent.” She offered a hand for Charlton. “I’m Helen Watters, his personal assistant. How can I assist you?”

Chartlon shook the hand to judge her strength. There was power beneath that suits price-tag, he reckoned. “We really need to speak with Mr Dayley,” Charlton told her. “We have some questions about a meeting he had this morning at a warehouse just outside the city.”

“I… can’t say I know which meeting you’re talking of,” the Human said, furrowing the little lines of fur above her eyes.

“Oh,” Nolly remarked sweetly, trying to pretend she hadn’t just seen a few crumbs of sandwich on her jacket, “you not knowing comes as something of a surprise to me.” She shrugged slightly, dislodging the crumbs onto the floor. “I mean I DID see you there, after all.”

“I cannot make any comment for Mister Dayley,” Watters remarked, clearly tensing up for a potential fight, “but what I can say is that it was a personal matter.”

“No doubt,” Charlton remarked. “It certainly sounded that way on the recording.”

“It’s beginning to sound like I need to contact our legal team,” she stated.

“With respect,” Charlton put in, adjusting his seating position, “how does a fighting Human like you end up as a Personal assistant to a Raitchian Politician?”

“Financial security,” she replied. “I needed it and he had it. I provide my support and advice and help keep him out of trouble.”

“And yet you’re here,” Solomon put in.

“It’s not like he needs support with the southern business leaders. They need him more than he does them.”

“So,” Charlton asked, “off the record, what’s your side of what happened this morning?”

“My employer met with a certain ‘asset’ this morning. The person involved has been assisting him in looking into ‘financial irregularities’ that may have been made to look like they implicated the government. Mister Cheech has been assisting him in the last few months. As for what happened to him, well…”

“Oh,” Charlton breezed, “nothing’s happened to him. We got to him before the hitter did. He’s safe for now.” Charlton stood up and took in a breath. “And he’s talking too. Wonder what he’s been saying? We should probably get back and check.” He dropped the humorous look. “We really need to speak to your boss. He needs to call us immediately.” He led the trio from the room and back out to the car. After checking it over, they got in. “When we get back, get someone to leak the information we have on him to the President’s office,” he grumbled. “I’ll not be lied to by hired flunkies.”
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Re: IOC Raitche

Post by Amazee Dayzee »

I don't think anybody wants to be lied to by any sort of lackey. That is just embarrassing. Wonderful work here!
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Re: IOC Raitche

Post by Welsh Halfwit »

TWENTY-TWO


Charlton led the team into the office and noticed the freshly steaming take out coffees on all the desks as he sat and started to check his incoming mail. “Did he tell you anything,” he asked Hayley, “and I don’t mean your barista.” He logged in to find three of his horses had come in out of five. Break even. Three requests for information from other stations. One message from his mother, probably asking why he hadn’t responded to the last three e-mail she’d sent him talking about her vegetable garden and what was going on with the neighbours. Part of the reason he didn’t respond was the fact he knew exactly what was going on with the neighbours, having spoken to the local Police about it the first time she’d told him. And they didn’t want people to know. So there they were. He took a sip from the coffee as Nolly and Solomon made their entry. He wondered if they’d guess that he was pretty sure as to why they’d delayed a couple of moments. He was sure he didn’t much care.

“Well,” Hayley replied, “according to the statement made with his new solicitor, Mr Petty, he was manipulated into working with the Minister to investigate collusion between a high ranking member of the Raicarra board and notable criminal influences in non Raitchian territories with a view to exposing them in short order. Provided his heroic efforts are acknowledged – his words, not mine,” she continued, tapping the padd at the requisite spot, “and we hide him somewhere secure, he’s quite prepared to testify to that effect and drop the CFO of Raicarra right in it. My words, not his.”

“Never did get around to that meeting with CFO Panettia,” Charlton mused. “Been a bit busy. Hopefully that’ll have Jarra thinking we’re going light on them.”

“Who,” Solomon queried.

“No-one important. So, despite what we’ve got, Cheech and Dayley have stories more or less consistent with each other.” Charlton sighed. “So we’ve still got very little concrete on the three of them and we’re being offered concrete stuff on one if we let the other two get off lightly. The price of politics. Make th…”

He paused as Nolly’s comm went off. Not the one she was wearing but her secret back up. There were only two people knew that number and Nolly was one of them. She didn’t answer it. She never did. However, she did grab her coat on her way out. Charlton indicated and Hayley followed her out.

This time they sat in the ‘cinema’ room without drinks. They weren’t planning on being there long and, of course, they’d just had some back in the office. “Why,” Hayley sang, to Nolly’s irritation, “are we waiting? Why-y-y are we waiting..?”

<”Much like contestants on vid singing shows, Agent Rogan,”> the voice said from the screen, <”your family have lied to you about your singing skills.”>

“I’ll have you know my mother said I had the singing talents of a long haul trucker,” Hayley replied, primping herself defensively.

<”Deep base and far away.”> The voice paused. <”Those people who attacked you today,”> he continued, <”they were hired guns.”>

“How did you..?”

<”Security feed, girl. Recognised a couple of them from darker days. They were high priced then and moved ‘off the market’ into long term work. Do you want to guess who for?”>

Nolly pretended to muse on the subject, tapping her front teeth a couple of times. “I’m going to guess… Raicarra?”

<”Got it on one, Agent Sun. Your reputation for brightness is not undeserved.”>

“Thank you but are we supposed to take your word for it? About the hitters, I mean?”

Behind them the printer clicked into life and hard copies of Raicarra employee records materialized on the table. “I didn’t know it was more than a food replication system,” Nolly said aloud.

<”I keep surprising you,”> the voice said, <”I’m not having people shooting at you. I have, er, too much invested in you. This does not go unchallenged. So you can deal with them as you see fit.”>

“Well,” Nolly shrugged, “thanks for that.” She stepped over and picked up the hard copy of three of their most recent assailants. “I bet they’re in hiding now, though.”

<”I doubt it, Agents. After all, Raicarra doesn’t know you know about their safe house on Yavrey Plaza, do they?”>

“What..?” Nolly rolled her eyes as a card with the address arrived in a similar fashion to the records. “Right, right. We found this during our enquiries.”


Mikkel sat in Nollys’ seat as she wasn’t there and looked around. His last check on transit in the new colonies told him the shuttle from Caldera to Pandera still hadn’t landed. Things seemed a bit quiet here at the moment so… Wait a minute, he thought, things are WAY too quiet here. He looked up and around. “Where’s Minika,” he asked, rhetorically.

“I…” Solomon paused in his reply. “I don’t know,” he admitted.

Rhew sighed and pulled a padd from his pocket. “Well, she’s somewhere in the building as the alarm hasn’t gone off.” He turned the tracking device on, stood up and started following it around the office, out of the office and to a cupboard on the next floor. “Oh, come on,” he said, rolling his eyes before opening the door to see Minika and Silmon politely kissing, hands on each other’s shoulders. He coughed. Silmon practically jumped back, stammered wildly and bolted from the room. “You’re that desperate,” Mikkel asked the Lappinean as she wiped her mouth, “that you’ll snog an office runner?”

“He’s looking to kiss a girl he knows quite soon,” she explained, shifting her left ear out of her eyeline. “He was worried he’d get it wrong. Wanted some tips.”

Mikkel nodded. “And you were happy to give it to him.”

“In a… manner of speaking. And I know he might be lying, of course.” She breezed past the Celican.

“Did you just wiggle your hips at me,” he asked.

“Did you just notice?”


Nolly was back and adjusting her seat when the pair returned downstairs. Things were moving quite rapidly now, agents grabbing weapons and shields from their desks as they were ready to move. “I’ve contacted the Police,” Charlton reported, “they’ll be standing ready to assist us in the operations. They’ll be in the area but we’re not telling them exactly where until we’re only a few minutes out. Dalmar…”

“I’ll go get Parcifal,” the Russellian finished.

“Good boy.”

“Woof!”

“Be off with you. Rhew, you keep things stable back here. Co-ordinate with Willieson over there.” A greyfur Raitchian waved his hand as the teams headed out.
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Re: IOC Raitche

Post by Amazee Dayzee »

Loved what you did with the chapter! Awesome work as usual!
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Re: IOC Raitche

Post by Welsh Halfwit »

TWENTY-THREE

Solomon led the team consisting of Nolly, Djaka, three members of a neighbouring team and several Police Officers into Raicarra tech with imperious pride. “Stay off the comm,” he warned the receptionist, before the shocked individual could jab at the switchboard. “We have a federal warrant to search these premises and computers for fraud and larceny. Any attempt to prevent us from doing so will result in immediate arrest.” He turned to one of the other Raitchians in the room. She looked quite high powered. “You,” he said, clearly enjoying his moment of power, “who are you?”

The packer gulped and stammered. “M...me? Uh, Shelley Yarnik, s..sir. Financial op...operations.”

Solomon mentally fist pumped. One shot, one score. “Excellent. Take us to your Chief Financial Officer’s offices.” he looked back at the receptionist. “You can now call the head of I.T. Tell them he has a visitor in reception and he should come immediately. Don’t tell him who. Djaka, you and some of these police go with him to the main computer terminal. Take it offnet and start checking the records.” he noticed the financial Officer was about to protest as the receptionist made the call. “We’ll have it back on as soon as we can,” he assured her, knowing they’d lose thousands for every minute the computer was offline. “Lead on,” he instructed as the senior constable in charge of the uniformed detachment allocated three officers to go with Djaka.


Somehow they picked up a lawyer on their route through the building and Nolly had the feeling they weren’t going via the quickest route. The lawyer, one Kella Musgrave, was quite happy to tell them that this was harassment, a totally frivolous accusation and she’d make sure the IOC paid handsomely if they didn’t stop and hand over the warrant for her to examine it right now. Solomon and crew kept walking, heading for the Chief Financial Officers’ office. “I’ll present the warrants there,” Solomon remarked, not adding that it could hardly be a frivolous accusation before he’d even made one.


Across the city, Parcifal and Charlton were comparing theories and battle plans. Each reckoned the others were worse than their own. Hayley was mostly keeping out of it and putting on her armour as they discussed whether going in hard or sending in a drone to check out the lay of the land was the best option. They had, at least, agreed to look at the official blueprints of the house from the land registry and Charlton had, reluctantly, given over his half of the forty credits the registry charged Parcifal for the documents so they could see the layout of the place. They were on a patch of waste ground about half a mile from the place they still hadn’t told most of the police about. The IOC Officers were keeping a discrete distance from most of the uniforms – except, of course, for Dalmar who was happily inspecting one of the rifle weapons the Typhan City police Officer had brought with them whilst they helped make sure he didn’t fire it. Hayley smirked. Dalmar had probably served with at least one of them during his training. It was why the Canid got on so well with them.

“So where we headed,” Officer Jalgrave asked him as he peered down the sights and imagined shooting a clay disc out of the sky.

“You know I can’t tell you, Hanna,” Dalmar replied, casting a glance at the safety catch. “your boss’d have my guts and my boss’d have my head before posting the remains to Freen city!” He shrugged. “Just trust me when I say it’s a biggie, will you?”

She sighed heavily. “Like back in the academy?”

“I was not responsible for the inkblot incident, as you know!”

“I need to hear about that,” Hayley chipped in.

“No, you don’t.”

“Ah,” Jalgrave said. “It started when Instructor…”


“So do we have a plan,” Charlton asked Parcifal with a tint of rhetoric in his tone. They were sending half the people around the back with a bomb disposal specialist in case of issues. They were keeping one of their own. Charlton would escort them, with the personal shield activated to cover them. As they moved, Police would flank them with energy shotguns ready. Parcifal could then use the megafone to try to talk to anyone inside.

“Sounds like one to me,” Parcifal agreed, tapping the name on the lease. “This is a Raicarra house,” he asked.

“Yup,” Charlton replied.

“Huh. No wonder you didn’t want to tell us where we’re going. What’s it about?”

Charlton started putting the padd away. “They’ve been linked to a criminal organisation and these people are believed to be the ones responsible for the firefight at the spaceport earlier.”

Parcifal, popped a piece of gum in his mouth. “Should have told us,” he advised. “Two uniforms died in that attack. The department wants blood. Could have got air support up and about thirty more cars.”

“Better not to have too many chefs,” Charlton advised, releasing the information on their final destination to Parcifal. “You want to take Dalmar with you,” he asked.

Parcifal shrugged. “Why not?”


Solomon allowed Musgrave to knock on the eight foot high panelled wood door and listened as they didn’t hear anything from inside. He put his shoulder to the door and winced as it refused to budge. “Get that door open before I shoot it off,” Nolly told Musgrave.

“You’ll pay for any damages,” Musgrave warned, using her security pass to release the door.


In the room, a Norveggan Raitchian was busy trying to make his way out of the window to the fire escape. Solomon quickly strode across and gently pulled him back in. The Norveggan did his best to put an elbow in Solomons’ face so it ended up more like an armlock and a push towards the table. “Not entirely unsuspicious,” Solomon mentioned. “I need to make this official from the get go.” He looked up at the lawyer as Nolly turned on her recorder. “For his benefit, your benefit and to cover ourselves. Yanik Brisson, I am arresting you on suspicion of financially assisting criminal enterprise, blackmail, extortion and conspiracy to murder. You don’t have to say anything but it may harm your defence if you fail to mention something, when questioned, that you come to rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence. You are permitted a solicitor. If, for whatever reason, you are unable to afford one, one will be provided. Come on,” he finished, having cuffed the Financial executive. “let’s get you back to base for questioning.” A glance up at Musgrave. “You coming?”

“I’ll… need to… consult with… uh, yes,” she decided. “I’ll follow along, Mr Brisson.”

“Right,” Solomon continued, “back to base with you.”

“Your base,” Brisson asked, looking more alarmed than usual at the idea of visiting a tower block.

“Of course,” Solomon stated, before noting the Norveggans’ face. “Why does that seem to worry you?”

Nolly thought of the people back at base and was struck with a sudden, uncomfortable, theory...
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Re: IOC Raitche

Post by Amazee Dayzee »

If his theory is correct then that will make things several times more worse. Hope his hunch is wrong!
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Re: IOC Raitche

Post by Welsh Halfwit »

TWENTY-FOUR

Minika spun around in Nolly’s chair, having adjusted it yet again and felt the air in her ears as she leaned back. The chair came to a stop whilst facing the same direction as Mikkel Rhew’s chair so she looked at him upside down as she reclined. “You know,” she told him, “I think people would be reticent about signing up for this lot if they knew how things had gone here.”

“I doubt they’d accept you anyhow,” he replied, “with your conduct.” he looked up from the bookpadd he’d been reading. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” she said, swinging around and making herself dizzy as she re-oriented herself. “Whoa. It’s raining? Well, I mean you had three targets and you’ve only got hold of one of them. That’s hardly a success.”

Mikkel let out a breath. “Well, that depends on how you look at it, doesn’t it?” He put the book away. “Not the rain, I mean. It’s definitely raining. Look, the reason we’re here was to interrupt the flow of money to your former friends…”

“Acquaintances,” Minika corrected. She was a bit surprised by the sudden realisation that she actually meant it. She might have had friends in Calavix but, apparently, they’d all been killed by the organisation. No-one there was her friend now. They were all just enemies she’d met.

“OK,” Mikkel admitted, not believing the change of heart for a minute. “Acquaintances. Anyhow, we’ve done that, haven’t we? We’ve got one of their main accounts – that’s about to be blocked. We know three of the people involved in the scenario. Two of them are going to get away with it but they’re going to have to step a lot more carefully from now on. The Minister could still lose his job and Cheech is going to lose control of his company – although it’ll still be making money for him, he won’t be able to access it whilst in protective custody. It’s not the victory we want, really,” he admitted, “but we’ve taken several players off the board.”

“It’s not chess, Mikkel,” she counselled. “It’s more like… wow,” she said, looking at the pounding rain outside, “It’s really coming down out there now, isn’t it?”

“Ye-es,” Mikkel said, levering himself up from Charlton’s chair. “It is rather. Willieson,” he called, attracting the attention of the Greyfur he was co-ordinating with. He indicated the window. “Is this scheduled?”

“Don’t think so,” Willieson replied, before looking at his computer. “I’ll just check with… Anyone else having trouble with Galnet?”

Mikkel started checking the system himself as the half dozen others in the office reported they couldn’t access news sites or, in one case, a webcomic. Mikkel’s face changed to a sterner look. “There could be reasons,” he stated, “but we have several important suspects in this building right now and we’re being cut off. I suggest…”

He was interrupted as Heston bustled in, folding away his flip phone. “Nolly’s called,” he told them, “we’ve got armed intruders coming.”

“If the net’s offline, they’re already here,” Mikkel countered.


The raid went quite as planned, with one minor problem. When they crashed through the door, after disarming two small booby traps, they didn’t find anyone in there. The entire place was empty in a way that indicated it had only recently been vacated. There was still a hint of warmth about the cup of tea on the table and the packet of flavoured chips hadn’t started to soften with exposure. The debris of bandages still lay on the floor, where they’d been used to aid the wounded. “Who warned them we were coming” Charlton stormed, casting an accusing glance at half the people with him.

“Don’t look at us,” Parcifal countered. “They’ve been gone longer than we’ve known where we were coming, judging by the temperature of that tea and the CCTV.” He pulled up the feed from the camera opposite. “They left about twenty minutes back. I’m giving camera operators the information to try and track them.”

Charlton nodded. “Right. Fair enough.”

Parcifal noted there was no incoming sign of an apology from the Federal Raitchian and snickered. “No wonder Jarra thinks so highly of you.”

Charlton stared at him intently. “You know Jarra?”

Parcifal shrugged. “Pretty much every badge in the city knows him. Straight as a die and practically rabid. He’s got a love/hate reputation with you.”

“Because he can’t do anything against me officially,” Charlton guessed.

“On the point,” Parcifal added, before looking up at the sky. “I think Weather Control’s screwing up again,” he advised, seeing the rain storm in a single section of the city.

Charlton wrinkled his nose. “That’s our base,” he said.

“Boss,” Dalmar said, hurrying up behind him, “I can’t get in touch with base to update them.”

Charlton ran towards his car. “Base is under attack!”


From the look of it on the CCTV, they’d come in through the lower loading dock three minutes back, shortly before the worst of the rain, which Mikkel assumed was to prevent locals from noticing anything going on. The truck they’d arrived in likely contained a jamming device to take out the external lines on the up to date network lines and it had only been because Heston was still using technology a few generations old that Nolly had managed to get through. They’d shot the guard down there immediately and he’d bled out as they moved into the basement. Mikkel had drawn a weapon and slapped a security band on Minika before he made to take up a defence position. “You DO like me,” she protested happily.

“I’d rather not see you dead,” he corrected her. Get down into the cell area and protect Cheech with that forcefield.”

“Don’t you need it?”

“Not enough of them for everyone,” Mikkel told her. “And no time to find more.”

“Can I have a gun,” she asked.

“I don’t trust you that much, Miss Charles,” Mikkel said, before heading off quickly, taking the stairs to where Willieson had arranged a standpoint.

“Stay alive, Celican,” Minika muttered, heading for the secure wing as the lights flicked out.
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Re: IOC Raitche

Post by Amazee Dayzee »

Hope that they can fight off the base's attacker! Every time I think there will be a lull there is another battle that has to be won! Nice work on the chapter!
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Re: IOC Raitche

Post by Welsh Halfwit »

TWENTY-FIVE

One of the eccentricities of the base was that the loading dock wasn’t as close to the cells as usual, simply to make sure attempts to steal suspects out from safe holding was as awkward as possible so Minika had a very slight advantage in time as she used her natural speed and leaping ability to take the stairs eight at a time on her way down to where she’d actually been spending the last few nights. The power had failed so she was using a handheld light to ensure she didn’t leap into the walls. She could hear shooting in the corridors. She kept on going. What was their plan here? It wasn’t as though there weren’t three entire floors of armed agents here. Even if one of them was off and about, that still left almost twenty weapons qualified agents and six security officers in the base. |They weren’t going to get out of here alive so… She sped up to get to the cells. This wasn’t an extraction, it was an execution. The ones firing weren’t the attack, they were the diversion. She came through the door to the basement floor and the cells within.


The lights were on down here, casting everything in a neon red light that gave her the disturbing impression of swimming in blood. She could hear people talking, calling for attention. The door down here were still locked by dint of needing a key that hung by the guards’ station. She could see the guard was down, slumped on his desk and took a second to check whether he was still alive before taking his weapon from his holster and heading towards the voices.


Mikkel fired on the attackers and cursed as the attack hit a personal shield. This wasn’t going to be quite as easy as he’d hoped as the assailant fired back and almost split his ears behind the cover. He wondered how many shots the shield could take and, frankly how many his cover could take. The second was weighing more on his mind than the first, if he was being honest. This was the nearest passage to the stairs so he wasn’t moving. Until the floors above got down here, he was the last line of defence for the people down in the cells. Where wa… He stopped as a higher power weapon fired over his shoulder, streaked down the passageway and impacted heavily enough on the forcefield that it threw the wearer back several feet and onto his or her back. Mikkel turned to look at Heston, holding a shoulder mounted heavy energy weapon. The old guard hunkered down beside Mikkel. “It’s on the ‘trial’ list,” he whispered. “We’re failing it. Takes a minute to recharge and it’s really hard to avoid getting it damaged near immediately.”

Mikkel pulled himself from cover and fired at the attacker. The bolt passed through what was left of the overloaded field and ploughed through the left shoulder, taking a chunk of it as it went. Not fatal, Mikkel reckoned, but not to be sniffed at. He could hear footsteps from upstairs.


“Can you get me out of here or not,” Cheech was asking Silmon desperately, as the runner fretted about the exit strategy. They’d heard sounds from the next cell over and the sound of a shot a few seconds ago and then just… silence. Silmon had no faith in them not managing to open the lock to the cell they were in and the youth put his hand across the end of Cheech’s mouth. “Shhh,” he whispered, just about keeping control of his legs and bladder in determination. “If you don’t shut up, they’re going to hear you, come in here and kill us both!”

“Oh, brilliant,” Cheech complained, “why couldn’t I get one with a gun?”

“I was just here delivering your lunch,” Silmon hissed. “Not my fault someone did ‘assault on precinct 215’ when I was here, is it? I don’t want to die here, do I?” He looked, wide eyed, as the handle on the door shook. “Against the corner,” he hissed, “quick!”

They made for the corner as the small window opened and hostile eyes looked in. They peered around, narrowed as they saw their target. “Got you this time,” the voice said, working at the door handle. After a few seconds the eyes vanished and a gun poked its way through the gap, ready to fire.

Silmon heard the shot but felt nothing. No pain, no new fear, no heat, no cold… no shot, in fact. He opened a very confused eye as nothing happened to him. What was that slumping sound? He called out in alarm and figured he wasn’t the only one reacting to a new, friendlier, eyes looking through the gap with a brown/tan pattern. Lappinean eyes. His brain brought things into focus. Minika. She’d saved them. “Miss… Minika?”

“Who else. You lot good in there?”

“I need the toilet.”

“T.M.I., Silmon. Good job there’s one in there. Neither of you are going anywhere right now.”

“GET ME OUT OF HERE,” Cheech yelled, making Silmon hold his ears.

“Not very clever,” Minika observed, “scaring poor Silmon before he’d gone to the toilet. Plus you don’t want to come with me,” she advised. “I’m not an agent. I’m a prisoner. And I used to work for Calavix.”

“I’ll st… ew!” He leapt up onto the bed. “I’ll stay in here.”

“Good boy.” Minika closed the window, stepped away from the door and turned her shield on. She figured the one underfoot had needed to turn his off to open the doors. Sounded like a design flaw to her. She stooped in the bubble and picked up the weapon. It looked like one she was holding but she wondered if… “Firing a test shot,” she called out, before shooting away from the security desk. She watched happily as the beam crackled through the security field and damaged the wall beyond. “Looks like they ‘fixed’ the issue in a way,” she remarked, heading back to the security desk to try and use the guards’ comm, turning the field off as it was pointless. She tapped a button on the unconscious Raitchian’s hand. “Minika to whoever’s here… Uh,” she added, thinking if she needed to be specific. “Minika Charles to Rhew or Heston or… what’s his name? Wilson? Willieson? Anyone picking up?”

<”Give us… a chance, Minika,”> Mikkel’s voice replied. <”We’re under fire here.”>

“Cells secure. Medic needed. Raicarra have failed on sorting the shields. Your guns aren’t going to work on theirs but they’ve worked out the frequency for their guns. You need to get one!”

<”Understood, Rabbit.”> A momentary pause. <”Thanks.”> The line cut off.
“As good as I’ll get,” she told herself, before starting to fix up the guard as best she could. She hoped a medic came soon.
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Re: IOC Raitche

Post by Amazee Dayzee »

Youn never stop writing do you? That is good because I love your stories!
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Re: IOC Raitche

Post by Welsh Halfwit »

TWENTY-SIX


Charlton didn’t bother with pulling up his coat as the car slalomed to a stop at the rear of the office and he took off at a run, past the fallen security officer and into the building, using his enhanced leg muscles to keep ahead of Dalmar. Hayley complained behind them as they outpaced her. She stopped in the rain as she checked the pulse of the guard. He was gone, she reckoned. “GET AWAY FROM THAT VAN,” she heard Charlton yell over the rain. She had the sudden idea that it was an idea to get away from a potential explosive situation. They’d need to clear the building after they’d… cleared the building.

Charlton stopped Dalmar as the Russellian was about to pass him into a passageway. An automated system scorched fire where his nose had been a few seconds earlier. “Auto guard” the leader announced.

“How do we get past it,” Dalmar asked before seeing something being held in front of his nose. He looked at it, looked away and, quickly, looked back at it. “How long have you had a EMP grenade in your coat, Hayley,” he asked incredulously.

“What part of ‘packer’ is confusing you,” she asked sweetly, handing it over to Charlton.

“I knew about it,” he said. “It’s why it has two safeties on it.”

“Cheek,” Hayley grumbled as the Norveggian disabled them. “It’s not like I’ve dropped that many things…”

“This week,” Dalmar finished as Charlton tensed and threw the device towards the autoguard. It landed close to the tripod, clanked against it and lay there, beeping. After a few seconds Hayley heard it fizz loudly and put her hand out into clear view, ready to withdraw it quickly if needed. Nothing happened. Dalmar was already running and sliding towards the target in case it had a recharge ability. He gripped the spent grenade and threw it down the next passage, just to see if another guard was positioned there.

Charlton strode over, picked the cannon off its mount and disconnected the power pack and pocketed it before removing one more part and throwing that away. “They’re not planning on an escape,” he advised.

“It’s a suicide mission,” Hayley gasped.

Charlton nodded. “Expect bombs.”


Mikkel grunted as someone new shot at Heston and himself whilst he’d attempted to get to the fallen weapon of the first assailant. He heard the old Raitchian gasp as the shot hit him in the side, cutting through the shirt and flesh before coming through the other side. His reflex pulled the trigger on his cannon and wasted the latest charge, which spun wild and impacted the ceiling above the target. Mikkel took advantage of the explosion and debris raining from the ceiling to leave his position and race forward. He dove through the falling masonry, only just avoiding a chunk of ceiling and failed to make contact with the fallen gun. His hand brushed against it and knocked it sideways so he swung around on the standing hand, wrenching his wrist badly enough that he yelped as he gripped the gun by the barrel with his free hand, spun it around, brought it up and fired. It made his new assailant jump back as the wildly aimed shot missed, penetrating the shield just as Minika had promised. Mikkel glanced up and launched himself forward as the opponent fired, scramming across his back. He landed heavily and the gun fired, almost shooting his own nose off as the beam ziffed past at floor level and made the assailant cry out and drop his own weapon. The bolt had gone clean through his foot and the Raitchian was hopping on one foot, holding the damaged foot by reflex. “Wanna shut off the forcefield or shall I shoot,” he challenged as several other agents arrived with their weapons and took aim.

After the assailant dropped the forcefield, Mikkel staggered up and over to Heston, who was having his wound seen to by a Raitchian with a little first aid training. “Not a word to how that played out,” he gasped. “Especially not to Minika or my wife.” He leaned on the side.

“I don’t.. Ow… I don’t know what you mean,” Heston groused. “I don’t… even know your wife’s number…”

“And I already know,” Minika said, standing nonchalantly by the stairs, gun free since the guard below had managed to pull himself back into the land of the living. He still needed medical help, of course, so she’d come upstairs to find it before he collapsed.


Charlton swept into the passageway and almost fired off a shot as several agents almost shot him. “Things here under control then,” he asked.

“Just about,” Willieson announced. “Four finished up here and, apparently, the Lappinean got one down by the cells.”

Charlton looked alarmed. “Who gave HER a gun?”

“I think she just… found one. Then she found out their shield weakness and let us all in on it.”

“Remind me to thank her,” Charlton huffed. “After Hayley carries out a detailed body search. Oh, get everyne out of the building via the front entrance, would you? There’s a large van parked out back and I’m not sure it isn’t going to explode. Dalmar, go with them. Soon as you’re clear, ask the USC to teleport you to weather control so you can arrest the person who’s got it pouring down. Take Nolly with you,” he added as Solomon and Nolly arrived from the front.

“Huh,” the little agent huffed, out of breath from the run in the rain from the car. “Oh, you’re kidding me!”

“Nope,” Solomon replied. “Got Mr Yanik Brisson cuffed to the front desk with Lapwing sitting guard,” he advised. “What do you want done with him, boss?”

“I can think of a few things,” Charlton mused bitterly as Dalmar and Nolly wandered back towards the soaking street. “When Parcifal arrives, take him to the Detectives’ place. I’ll be along shortly.”

“Right on, sir.”

“Don’t say ‘right on’. You’re not twelve.”

“Right ho, sir.” Solomon said, before leaving.

The rain slowed to a halt. Ambulances started arriving.
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Re: IOC Raitche

Post by Amazee Dayzee »

I like the details that you include in your chapters! Hope you continue with that!
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Re: IOC Raitche

Post by Welsh Halfwit »

The penultimate part

TWENTY-SEVEN

Solomon stepped into the interrogation room in Barstock Common Station, holding three coffees from the canteen on a small, plastic, holding tray. The Cross gave passing thought to what the Police at City Central would think of them going past their place to one of the district offices but, frankly, he didn’t care. You dealt with who you trusted in a case such as this and Parcifal hadn’t betrayed them yet. He put one of the drinks down in front of Brisson and the other he handed to Hayley, who sniffed it. “It’s Coffee,” he told her. “Probably. I’d get some for your lawyer,” he added to Brisson, “but she doesn’t seem to be here yet.”

Hayley scowled, partially at the coffee but mainly at Solomon. “And we DID tell her which station we were taking him onto, didn’t we?”

Solomon shrugged and sat himself down. “Well, we notified Raicarra legal as soon as we knew. That was, what? An hour ago? It does seem strange.” He took a sip of his drink. “Rather like this Coffee, in fact. I know it’s cliché but I think they buy from a cheaper supplier than we do.”

“Not everyone has Raicarra’s budget,” Hayley advised, tipping her drink slightly as she put it down.

“Hmm. It’s possible they’re saving on lawyers fees so they can afford better coffee. Oh, let me mop that up for you.” He produced a yellow handkerchief from one pocket, tucked it into his shirt pocket and pulled it out again, now with blue spots on it. He dabbed up the coffee.

“Are you two a double act,” Brisson snarked. “Wasting my time with these frivolous charges.”

“Thanks,” Hayley replied. “I’ve always wanted to be the glamorous assistant.”

“Oh, I’ve occasionally thought you that, Hayley,” Solomon told her. “And we’re waiting on your legal advisor,” he told Brisson. “Which should worry you. If the charges had been frivolous, she’d have been here within minutes. Within hours? Tssh, I begin to think Raicarra might be considering their support of you to save their company…”


Parcifal stood in the watching room and crossed his arms as Charlton stepped into the room. The bigger Norveggan had taken a little time to oversee the building check for devices and arrange the USC troops to take the surviving attackers back up to their ship before he’d come over to the station, leaving bomb disposal to check out the van in freedom. He kind of wished he’d asked the Council troops to teleport him as, without their help, he’d been forced to hire a taxi to get over here and he was sure Jarra had seen him. He could hardly claim the sixty credits back on expenses now, could he? “How’s it going?”

“His lawyer’s not here yet and he’s not answering anything until they get here.” The Detective nodded towards the room. “Your lot always play like kittens?”

“It’s there way of taking control,” Charlton replied, not wanting to seem like he was agreeing with the Officer. “Be professionally unprofessional. It confuses and irritates. Takes them out of their comfort zone.”

Parcifal chuckled silently, only giving the effect away by the slight shaking of his shoulders. “So the answer’s ‘yes’, then?”

“Sometimes.”


Five minutes after, Kella Masgrove appeared. Charlton stepped over and offered the Lawyer a hand, which she accepted. “Agent Hass,” she said in a friendly manner that had Charlton wondering about stiletto knives in his back.

“Miss Masgrove,” he replied. “You found us.”

“It wasn’t hard,” she replied. “I’ve been in video conference with the board for the last fifty minutes. They’ve come to a decision.”

“I thought they might.”

She smiled seductively. “Well, we do have to do what’s best for the company, don’t we?”

Charlton chuckled this time. “Of course. May I ask you to deliver a message back to the higher echelons? After you’ve told him their message to him, of course.”

She nodded demurely. “Something along the lines of ‘your investigations will continue’ to see if there are any more leaks in the company and, even if you don’t find one, you’re now watching for them?”

Charlton took a second. He’d just been torpedoed. That was almost exactly what he’d been planning to say. “Something like that. I don’t want to be enemies, Miss Masgrove…”

“Kella please, Charlton.”

“OK, Kella. I don’t want to be enemies but I won’t let Raicarra – or, indeed, anyone – to supply my enemies. You may also want to tell them to send another specialist to Pandera for those plates. They discovered he’d been paid off - by Calavix probably – so that he’d deliver them the plates.” he shrugged. “Not sure how he’d have gotten away with that. I mean, you’d have noticed, surely?”

“Of course.” She paused. “Unless, of course, he claimed they were knock-offs of our product. Then, I assume, you’d have employed a local company… say Simkins Pandera?”

“You’re kidding,” Charlton said. “That can’t be a relation to Cheech’s friend, surely?”

She tapped her nose. “That,” she said, walking towards the interview room door before swinging back around in a slightly seductive way, “is all I’m prepared to say on that subject, Agent Hass. And I didn't even say it.” She indicated the door. “Mind if I go in and tell Mr Brisson that I will in no way be representing him and he’s been immediately fired, with an application to have his accounts frozen for…” she twitched her nose, “fraudulent dispersal of funds in a way contrary to common and legal law and the interests of the company?”

Charlton gave a short laugh. Sounds like you’ll enjoy it?”

“Oh, I will,” she allowed. “There’s been a few ‘accusations’ from female employees…”

Charlton waved a hand. “Go right on in. Don’t forget to recommend a public defender.”


Charlton turned around as she went in. Parcifal was standing there, grinning. “She likes you,” he said. “You should ask her out.”

“Ask out a corporate lawyer who represents a company we’re actively watching and’s just about to eviscerate someone for sexual harassment?” Charlton mused. “Odds wouldn’t be in my favour.”

Parcifal tutted and headed away.

“Yet,” Charlton added quietly.
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Re: IOC Raitche

Post by Amazee Dayzee »

Looking forward to seeing how the finale will go! Keep on writing please!
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Re: IOC Raitche

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TWENTY-EIGHT

Raitche’s main spaceport was bustling, probably due to it being midday and Nolly, Charlton and Hayley waited as Mikkel Rhew finished sorting out his ticket back to Pandera. He was looking a little confused as he headed back across to the group. “What’s wrong, Mikkel,” Nolly asked, keeping her hands behind her back so he couldn’t see her crossed fingers.

“Apparently there’s been an error in my ticket,” the Polar Celican told the group. “I was booked in for a standard cabin but they’ve booked me into a first class cabin? I, um protested it…”

“Yup,” Hayley muttered, “yer a nut.”

“...but they told me the upgrade was irreversible and already paid for.”

“Who’d know you were on that flight?”

Rhew looked around cautiously. “No-one who’d know me here could afford it.” He sighed. “It’s probably Raicarra. I’d refuse it but…”

“No standard cabins available,” Charlton remarked.

“Not direct,” Mikkel sighed. “And then it doesn’t leave for two days. By then Jasmine will have Snowdrop a confirmed vegan.” He gave a slight grin. “Gotta stop that. So I’ll suffer luxury. Just this once.”

“You’ve got gifts,” Dalmar asked, stepping into the conversation from the direction of the duty free.

“I haven’t had time,” Mikkel said, horrified that the thought hadn’t even entered his head. Did that make him a bad father? Was he going to regret that or..? “I’ll have to get something on the ship? Do they ever have good items?”

“No,” the Russellian said, pointing behind Mikkel, “I mean you’ve got gifts.”

He turned and saw Minika coming over with a sealed duty free bag containing a bottle of Lappinean spirit and a large, plush, white bunny toy. “You won’t need to search them,” she said from underneath the ear of the fake fluffy figure, “my minder was right there when I bought them.”

She handed him back his passport. “How did..?”

“Best never to ask, Mikkel,” she said, dropping the toy to give him a chaste kiss that, to his surprise, he didn’t hate. “How’s your wounds?”

“I’m bearing up,” he replied. “I don’t feel the burns so much.”

“Pain killers probably helped there,” Hayley whispered conspiratorially to Charlton. He huffed.

"And you lot are sure about keeping Minika here,” he asked, just double checking. “I mean, I could always take her to a cell…” He gave her a wink to show he wasn’t being entirely serious.

“She’s proven moderately useful,” Charlton told him, “and has more information to give.”

“Plus I kinda like being sorta free, Mikkel,” she added. “Even if it is with a leash.”

“Better than a collar,” Nolly remarked brightly.

Minika looked at her impassively. “Are you still annoyed about your chair, little one?”

Charlton grumbled. “Despite everything, we’ll keep her. We’ll keep an eye on her and there’s even a small stipend for cash.”

Mikkel’s ear drooped. “I want my credit chit back, Minika.”

“Well, it’d hardly be a gift from you if anyone else bought it, would it,” She gave him back his card. “Contactless is such a boon to criminals.”

“Tell me about it,” Mikkel grumbled as he slotted the card back into his pocket. He tapped her on the chest with a finger. “Be. Good,” he warned.
She smirked. “Oh, I’m always good, Mikkel. YOU be careful, right?”

He nodded as his flight was called and picked his new baggage up before heading off home.

“Your dad,” Hayley asked Nolly. “The ticket?”

“I am pledged to silence,” Nolly said honestly, holding a hand, palm up, in front of her chest.

“So,” Minika asked, feeling the time right to butt in, “where am I billeted?”


Minika huffed as the door shut behind her and she pulled her bag into the two bed apartment that was to be her new home. “Can I ask you a question,” she asked as Hayley showed her to the second bedroom.

“Only if I can ignore any questions about my car,” the packer replied.

“It has a transparent top!”

“Well, yeah. It’s a bubble car.”

“Couldn’t you afford a better car,” Minika challenged. “That thing’s so cheap…”

“Hey!” Hayley tossed a glove at her new flatmate. “Don’t diss the bubble! I love the bubble! It’s got me through a lot of bad things.”

Minika chuckled bitterly. “Only because not even energy bolts want to touch it!” She sat on the unmade bed. “Can I get my own car?”

Hayley pretended to ponder it for a moment. “Not yet,” she told Minika. “You’ll need to earn the credits first. She sat next to the Lappinean and was a bit surprised when she stretched out and lay across her lap.

“I’ll have to earn it then. First thing,” she added as her ears flopped out above her head, “is to get you with that Barista. Free coffee is its’ own bonus.”

“Hah!” Hayley sat Minika back up. “You got a three mile radius, Minika. Outside of that, from here or from base, it’ll set off alarms and shock you at the same time.” She fished in one of her many pockets. “Here’s your comm,” she added, tossing the small device to the tan to attach to her hand before implanting the tiny receiver part into the left ear.

“Ow.”

“Oh, don’t be a baby,” Hayley replied. “This could be fun. Want a Coffee?”

“Only if it’s not the bubble car equivalent of Coffee.” She huffed as Hayley stood up and left the room, closing th door behind her. So, she thought, this was her life now? She lay back on the bed. It could be worse. Her comm chimed and she was panicked for a few seconds by the question of who knew she had this comm as she’d just got it. Then she heard the voice on the other end and was more annoyed than scared. “Look,” she hissed, “I told you before that I don’t want to work for you, grandfather! I got myself into that mess and I’ve gotten myself out now, with no help from you! I’ll happily chat with you. I’ll even meet with you – if no-one finds out but I’m not doing anything else for you,” she snapped, before terminating the call. She stood up, crossed to the window and looked out onto the street, looking for… Yup, there they were. Two dark figures in a car, watching. She closed the curtains. “Bloody Balbury,” she groused, before crossing to the door and putting her happy face back on.


“Ack,” she called, after trying the drink, “bubble Coffee!”
Commander Hawle. U.S.C. Loper. By the talented DDeer.
Kilo - 2-8-3-9-10-2-5
Kilo
Leslie – 4-6-4-5-6-9-7
Leslie
David Campbell - 7 – 8 – 9 – 5 – 4 – 4 – 6
Corp Davidstow 6 - 6 - 7 - 3 - 6 - 6 - 5 (reactions 7 Combat 9)
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Amazee Dayzee
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Re: IOC Raitche

Post by Amazee Dayzee »

I have heard of bubble tea and tried it but not bubble coffee. Anyway great chapter!
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Welsh Halfwit
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Re: IOC Raitche

Post by Welsh Halfwit »

As I'd never heard of it, I hoped I'd made it up.

Nope.

This does not appeal.

https://www.lifeslittlesweets.com/bubbl ... ba-coffee/
Commander Hawle. U.S.C. Loper. By the talented DDeer.
Kilo - 2-8-3-9-10-2-5
Kilo
Leslie – 4-6-4-5-6-9-7
Leslie
David Campbell - 7 – 8 – 9 – 5 – 4 – 4 – 6
Corp Davidstow 6 - 6 - 7 - 3 - 6 - 6 - 5 (reactions 7 Combat 9)
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Amazee Dayzee
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Joined: Tue Aug 12, 2014 6:24 pm

Re: IOC Raitche

Post by Amazee Dayzee »

To be fair, I didn't like the bubble tea/coffee either when I tried it.

Both of my siblings love it and drink it.
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