Chapter 7

One day after quitting time, the cycle was at last broken by two men in three piece, black suits and dark tinted sunglasses standing like grim statues outside my door. “Agent J and Agent K, to what do I owe this visit?” I asked in a snide way.

If they got my reference they didn't acknowledge it. Instead “K” answered, “Thomas MacGaven, the High Warden wishes to meet with you.”

Well wasn't this interesting. Without explanation nor option I was escorted to a black cybercar. The MIB sat to my right and left with me in the center. A fourth man, the driver who looked just as jolly drove off beginning our journey to parts unknown.

I couldn't help but break the silence. “So where's the talking pug?”

“They didn't tell us he was mouthy,” said one of my chaperones. His companion replied dryly, “No they did not.”

I could tell trying to get anything from these guys would be a colossal waste of time so I just sat back until we reached a multi-level, sterile white building. It was here the vehicle eased to a halt and I was made to get out. I took stock of the environment and saw a fenced off complex about fifty yards adjacent to this building. It was the prison colony’s prison. So this was, as I took it, what passed as a capitol building for the colony. The glass doors were opened by guardsmen sans gas masks and my brooding companions flashed some sort of I.D.

Before I knew it I was in the spacious office of the High Warden.

A man with well combed, an all American square jaw, and a mustache that Stalin would have envied turned around in a high backed office chair and stood to his full height over a mahogany desk stacked with paperwork. I had seen this man before he was a legend on Earth, a veteran of the War of the Northern Border.

“George ‘Hardcase’ Delaney, Scourge of the Danes, How'd you end up running this outfit?”

My MIB escorts bristled like bathed cats until the Warden waved them away and they made a most welcome exit. Then he addressed me “Thomas MacGaven. They told me they were sending someone. I didn't know it'd be you.”

“Well, Sir here I am.”

“Which department are you with these days, CIA, DOGE, FBI?”

“Space Force.”

“So you're basically JAG for us stargazer types.”

Well now I guess my secrets are out. I'm not actually a conman. I'm one of Uncle Sam's truffle sniffing pigs. Only instead of edible fungus buried in dirt I sniff out corruption and malfeasance.

He invited me to sit down in a chair. I did and the thing practically ingested me but it was comfortable nonetheless. “Well, MacGaven here we are. Two legends in their own time face to face, concerned for the well-being of a forgotten piece of space rock.”

In case you're wondering, I served in intelligence during that aforementioned war. It cost me everything I held dear. It had swallowed my life and my life had become it. Adrift in an unsettled country I hopped from agency to agency never feeling at home in any of them, too much political b.s. and red tape.

“Let's not kid ourselves, Warden that Greenland business was a total debacle.”

“Maybe. Anyhow let's talk brass tacks shall we?

I've been swamped with my duties here but wanted to meet with you when the time was right. By the way did you get my gift?”

“Um, what gift?”

He made gestures to indicate that to which he referred. “About this big. Has a trigger?”

“That was YOU?”

“Yes. Once your I.D. was scanned into the system I sent one of my boys to deliver it.”

Well I guess that mystery was solved. “Tell me, how many people know who I actually am?:

“Just me and the guards in my innermost circle including the two gorillas that brought you here.”

“Good. I'd have preferred that nobody knew who I was but this is the way they wanted it in case something goes wrong. Now there's an elephant in the room we must address.”

“Ok, shoot.”

“I met Nellie.”

He twitched ever so slightly and then said rather hastily, I don't know her. I've heard rumors that her restaurant was more than that but I wouldn't know who she was.”

“Well those rumors are true.”

“Hmm.”

“She brings us to another matter. One of her girls was murdered in the park and I had to practically bend the arms of the guards who investigated it to even look for clues.

“You're toy soldiers could use a wind up. I get most of you have been here since this place was built and you're worn down. Believe me I understand but it's hard to get people to sign up for this particular branch of the military when they still think the moon landing was a gosh darn snowjob.”

“I do appreciate the effort, MacGaven. I'll see about whipping our boys into shape.”

“Good. That'll bring us to my last point: one of your men is dirty.”

“How dirty?”

“Sewer pipes are cleaner.”

“Are you sure?”

“You just had a massacre happen right? It took place in a cramped office of a warehouse in a grungier part of town. A poker game went bad. It's a total blood bath, real Jackson Pollock looking aftermath.

“Except you don't know who did it because they shot out the security cameras. Well I do know it was.”

“ Dadgum! Spit it out, MacGaven!”

“Preston, I don't know his last name.” I gave him a description.

He sat down and put his hands together in a triangle. “I've always wondered about that one. He's a vindictive s.o.b. but to think… but how do you know this?”

“I've got my sources.”

“What sources?”

“Can't say. Won't say. They are my sources.”

“Fine, don't tell me then.”

“There'll of course need to be an indictment, tribunal, the whole kit and kaboodle.”

The old war dog now looked defeated.

“If it's any consolation, George. I think aside from the apathy and complacency that most of the soldiers here are still straight shooters no pun intended.”

“Thanks, MacGaven.”

“All and all I'd say it's quite a paradise these people have made for themselves. No cell phones, no TV and a chance at a fresh start.”

He glared at me and stood up and began pacing. “Only a cynic would see this place as paradise! They managed to build a colony here but somehow we can't find a way to establish communications with Earth outside monthly supply exchanges. We're nothing more than a bandaid on the conscience of the lobbyists back home. They send us more and more criminals and then they reform but they don't go home they stay here and it'll keep happening until we don't have prison overcrowding but prison colony overcrowding. “This isn't a full size planet so there is only so far we can build out and expand until we have to encroach on the farmland. And now not only is some psycho making human pretzels out of the citizens, I find out one of my guards is a dastardly murderer.”

“I guess that puts things into perspective.”

He turned to me with a pleading face. “MacGaven is Preston the one doing those awful killings?”

“No, I've only seen two. The hooker and another the other day in an alley. That reprobate is burly but I don't think he's physically capable of doing the damage seen on those bodies!”

“I was afraid of that. The truth is this has been happening sporadically for two years. We've dubbed the perp ‘the Shadow Killer’ because they strike either in a nocturnal fashion or in alleys. Unfortunately our investigation while still active has turned up bupkis.”

He paused, then asked me, “Will you help us find this fiend?”

“It's not what I came out here to do but as a favor to a fellow veteran I'll do my best.”

“Thanks.”

“None necessary. By the way, when did that oddball cult arrive here?”

“The Lincoln fanatics? About five years ago. They formed on Earth. They tried to give some sort of tent meeting in front of the Lincoln Memorial but the cops ran them off. Eventually they hopped on a shuttle and ended up here. They seem harmless enough.”

“Maybe not. I saw one of them in the park the night that Nellie's prostitute was mangled.”

“MacGaven watch out! They don't take kindly to people snooping around.”

“Why if they're not hiding anything?”

“People are strange.”

“Sure.”

So I left there, my mission here taking a turn I had not anticipated but life doesn't come with GPS.