Lawmen- Rook and Berenger Read online

  There were no notes on Ranger Berenger ever having attended any type of academy, university, or even seminar related to law enforcement. All Berenger’s experience appeared to have been gained on the job. Berenger’s only schooling seemed to have been an online ultraweb trade course through which he’d received a certification in mechanical engineering and software programming. Beyond that, there were no other educational records beyond an official pilot’s license that cleared him to operate a spaceship.

  Ranger Berenger also seemed to be quite camera shy. Though there were extensive files on his investigations, there were no images or videos of the man himself. Even news footage which had been archived in the casefiles never featured him, and any news stories that quoted him didn’t contain a picture. The only image there was of him was an old profile picture that was assigned to his IIS I.D. badge. It was the slightly pixelated image of an unsmiling man with neatly combed hair, a square jaw, and a finely trimmed moustache.

  Moustaches, thought Deckland. Why is everyone around here always sporting a moustache?

  Deckland eventually put the datapad away and laid down to get some sleep, but his excitement made it hard to do so. Not only was he in a completely new area of the galaxy, partaking in a new endeavor through the unprecedented collaboration of all the Empire’s law enforcement agencies, but his superiors had also determined he had enough potential to be partnered with one of their best investigators! Deckland wondered what his new partner would be like, and more importantly, what he could learn from such a man.

  The next morning, Deckland was up bright and early. He showered, shaved, and dressed in his best IIA uniform consisting of black boots, black pants, and a gray jacket before heading off to the closest public teleporter to make his way to Imperial Square, the location of all Landfall’s governmental offices.

  Landfall City was an eclectic collection of structures. Though the new buildings being constructed around the Twinspirit Palace, which was being built in the epicenter of the city, were extremely modern, there were still lots of hold-overs from Landfall’s time as a settlement. Many of the pod structures first erected as the city grew were still being used and hadn’t yet been replaced by actual buildings.

  Most new settlements were comprised of modular buildings constructed from plasti-steel alloy and were designed to withstand any climate and atmosphere. These modular buildings were typically referred to as “pods,” and they could be joined together to form various structures and configurations depending on the needs of the people living and working within them. It was not uncommon to see large collections of pod structures in locations which were in the process of being colonized. These types of collections were called “Pod Cities,” something Landfall most certainly used to be.

  Of course, Landfall also had its fair share of structures built from traditional building materials such as wood, brick, and metal, which gave it a very mismatched appearance. Most of the traditionally built buildings had been replaced in the new construction efforts, but the old pod structures for the most part seemed to have survived.

  The headquarters for the Imperial Galactic Ranger Initiative was in one of the pod structures on the far edge of Landfall’s downtown area. It was an oddly shaped building which looked like it had new units added to it over time as the city grew and more office space was needed. Deckland checked in at the reception desk and was escorted through security for processing and the issuing of his identification badge. He, then, made his way through the various cookie-cutter corridors of drab plasti-steel walls and fluorescent lights, eventually finding an elevator that took him to the proper floor where he searched more cookie-cutter corridors until he found an office door with a small sign that read “Galactic Ranger Initiative Offices” next to it.

  There was no reception-bot inside to direct him, just a large bullpen with various workstations separated by cubical dividers. Though his security check-in had eaten up some time, it was still relatively early in the day, so there weren’t many people around. Deckland took that as an invitation to explore his new headquarters.

  Actual offices lined the room, encircling the central bullpen area. Each one had a nameplate on the wall next to it. Deckland walked by them all, reading the signs until he got to the office marked “Imperial Galactic Ranger Braxxon Berenger.”

  The office door opened with a hiss and Deckland peeked his head inside. There was a desk in the room in front of a window showcasing more construction next door, along with some rather generic holopaintings adorning the walls. The desk contained only a visual display and a holographic nameplate that projected the words “IGR Braxxon Berenger” above it.

  This office is immaculate, Deckland thought as he examined the scene. This Berenger guy is obviously incredibly well-organized.

  Deckland was about to enter the room when he heard a female voice from behind him ask, “May I help you?” He turned and saw a young woman in a plain, yet fashionable, gray work dress, looking at him from behind a pair of infoglasses, which framed her soft face nicely. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she had a data tablet hugged to her chest as she gazed at him appraisingly.

  “You appear to be in the wrong place, sir,” she said.

  “I don’t think so,” Deckland answered. “I’m looking for Ranger Berenger.”

  “I’m afraid Ranger Berenger is out of the office at the moment.”

  “Do you know when he’ll be in?”

  “I don’t, but if you like, I could take a message.”

  “I’m sorry, but that won’t do. I’m Ranger Deckland Prescott. I’ve been assigned to partner with Ranger Berenger by Chief Ormosa himself. I’m to report to him, so I can begin my duties.”

  “Oh!” said the young lady with wide eyes. “So, you’re one of the new recruits to the Initiative, huh?”

  Deckland smiled at that. “Yes, I am,” he said.

  “I suppose I should have known. You have the look of a core worlder about you. The only time we usually see any of your type around here is if someone is in trouble or when changes that no one wants are about to be made. My name’s Tamara Tomlann, I’m the administrative manager here in the GRI offices.”

  Tamara extended her hand, which Deckland took, noticing she had a distinctly firm handshake for such a petite lady.

  “Pleased to meet you, Ms. Tomlann. So, should I just wait in Ranger Berenger’s office until he arrives?”

  Tamara frowned. “I’m afraid you’d be waiting a long time if you were to do that, Ranger Prescott. I’ve been running the GRI office for about two years now and I honestly can’t remember a single time Ranger Berenger has actually been in here.”

  Deckland raised his eyebrow in curiosity. “You… you mean to say Ranger Berenger has never come into the office?”

  “That’s correct,” Tamara replied as she pushed her loose infoglasses back up onto the bridge of her nose. “Ranger Berenger prefers to be in the field and work out of his ship. The only time I really see him in the building is when he has to meet with the higher-ups, and he usually leaves directly afterwards.”

  “That’s a bit unusual, wouldn’t you say?”

  Tamara shrugged. “I guess that depends,” she replied. “Ranger Berenger is one of the old-schoolers. Before Imperial officials began moving to the planet, we didn’t have a lot of regulation around here. Everyone just kind of worked how they wanted to, and Ranger Berenger hasn’t exactly changed with the times. But he has such seniority that we just let him continue to do as he pleases.”

  “Well, I’m going to need to meet with him so I can begin my new assignment,” Deckland said. “Can you pull up his tracker and give me his location?”

  “Oh, Ranger Berenger doesn’t have a tracker.”

  “All field agents are supposed to have a tracker implanted,” objected Deckland. “It’s regulation.”

  “Ranger Berenger refused to have one installed. Apparently, he doesn’t like people knowing his whereabouts. Says that if he wants someone to find hi
m, he’ll let them know where he is.”

  Deckland grimaced with frustration. “Do you have any idea where Ranger Berenger might be?” he asked. “Someplace he likes to work from or hang out at during office hours?”

  Tamara crinkled her forehead as she gave the inquiry some thought. “I suppose you could try My Office,” she replied.

  “Your office? But I thought you said he doesn’t come in here?”

  “No, not my personal office,” Tamara said with a giggle. “I meant to say the ‘My Office’. It’s a boozskeller. I know he drinks there quite often.”

  “A boozskeller?” muttered Deckland as he looked at the time on his datapad. “It’s not even ten in the morning.”

  “Rangers keep odd hours, Agent Prescott,” Tamara replied with a sweet smile. “I’m afraid the My Office is your best shot at finding him at the moment. But if you leave me your contact information, I’ll be sure to let you know if he ever comes by. Otherwise the best I can do is call his ship and leave a communication, but there’s no guarantee when he’ll see it. Shoot – there’s not even a guarantee he’s on the planet at this time.”

  “Understood,” said Deckland with a frown. “This ‘My Office’ place… is it far?”

  “It’s in the outskirts.”

  “I don’t know what that means.”

  “Oh, sorry,” Tamara said, bopping herself on the forehead. “I grew up here, so sometimes I just take for granted that everyone knows the area. The outskirts are the very edges of the city before you hit the wilderness. It’s extremely old and underdeveloped. There’s hardly any reason to ever go out there, so I’m afraid there’s not a lot of transportation options.”

  “Is there a public teleporter?”

  “I think the closest teleporter platform to the My Office is about an hour’s walk, if memory serves. You don’t happen to have your own hovercar or a private shuttlecraft, do you?”

  “I do not.”

  “Well then, Ranger Prescott, it looks like you’ve got a bit of a walk ahead of you.”

  “It would seem so,” said Deckland, dourly. “You’ve met Ranger Berenger before, correct?”

  “I’ve met all the Rangers on active duty,” Tamara replied. “I’m usually the one who sends them their cases.”

  “What can you tell me about him?”

  “What do you want to know?”

  “What’s he like? On a personal level.”

  Tamara shrugged. “He’s always been nice to me,” she replied. “Very polite and friendly. Though, between us, I think he fancies himself a bit of a ladies’ man. Not that he’s ever gone there where I’m concerned. Our relationship has always been strictly professional. But he has offered to have strong words with any gentleman who happens to do me wrong, as he puts it.”

  “Does that happen a lot?” Deckland asked, slightly curious. “You getting done wrong?”

  “Why, Agent Prescott? Did you have designs on doing me? Wrong, that is?”

  “What? No!” Deckland said, feeling slightly flustered. “I mean, I didn’t have any designs at all… not that you’re not… you know… but it wouldn’t be… um… um…” Deckland snapped his fingers, as though that would help him to think of the word his brain was desperately trying to recall.

  “Professional?”

  “Yes! Professional. Wouldn’t be professional.”

  Tamara giggled. “Shame. If there’s one thing you could say about us Sapphire gals, it’s that we’re extremely unprofessional.”

  Deckland pulled at his collar, clearing his throat awkwardly. “Um…” was all he could say.

  An uncomfortable silence hung in the air as Deckland simply stared dumbly at Tamara, who returned his gaze with a playful smile.

  “My, my, my,” Tamara said. “If you’re having this much trouble with little ol’ me, Agent Prescott, I shudder to think how you’re going to react when you finally meet Ranger Berenger.”

  “Well, if he’s polite, friendly, and professional, as you say… then I’m sure he and I will get along just fine.”

  Tamara nodded good-naturedly before tapping on the screen of her data tablet. “I’m sending you the location of the boozskeller,” she said, “along with the location of the teleporters you’ll want to take to get there. Landfall still doesn’t have a comprehensive teleportation grid, so the network is a tad limited. You’ll have to make a few ‘ports before you get to the one closest to ‘My Office’. If you hurry, you can get there in a couple of hours, but if you want to take it easy on your first day, you can grab a workstation here in the bullpen. Rangers spend so much time out in the field, we don’t bother to assign anyone a desk. You can just use whichever one’s free.”

  “Thank you, but I think my priority should be finding Ranger Berenger,” Deckland replied. “I’m eager to get started.”

  “I can tell,” Tamara said with a smile. “Welcome to the Initiative, Ranger Prescott. I’m sure, in time, you’ll fit in around here just fine.”

  “Um, thanks?” Deckland replied, wondering just what exactly she’d meant by that.

  With a nod, Tamara turned and began walking back toward her office. Deckland sighed, composing himself once more before starting his long trek to the outskirts of town.

  My first case as a Galactic Ranger is tracking down my own partner, he thought with annoyance. This Berenger guy better be worth the effort.

  Chapter 4

  The outskirts of Landfall City were a patchwork of newly developed buildings and modular pod dwellings left over from the city’s founding, which all gradually devolved into more run down and abandoned structures the closer one got to the surrounding wilderness of Barnholm.

  Deckland walked down the street that had given way from asphalt to loose gravel and dirt, traveling from the closest public teleporter to the location Tamara had given him. A light breeze wafted by, carrying orange dust and a stray tumbleweed with it as Deckland’s boots crunched the gravel beneath him.

  In the distance he could see a weathered wooden building, about two-stories tall, standing before the backdrop of tan mountains and rock outcroppings that formed the rugged vista beyond. The road gave way to dirt by the structure, leading on to the untamed wilderness that stretched out behind the building. Scattered around were abandoned pod units, dilapidated chain link fences, and rotting wooden structures. Next to the building was a derelict starship that appeared as though it hadn’t been flown in decades (if it could even fly at all). From the looks of the hunk of junk, Deckland guessed it had broken down long ago and no one had ever bothered to scrap it, opting to build around the monstrosity instead.

  As Deckland got closer to the building, he could see there was a softly snoring one-armed Karkovian passed out in his own filth right before the steps leading up to the front porch of the boozskeller. Two swinging wooden doors guarded the main entrance with the words “Step Into My Office” painted on them. A rusted antique greeting-bot was stationed to the side of the entrance, its trash-can sized cylindrical body marred by numerous dents. Its domed head with a single optical lens swiveled toward Deckland as he approached.

  “Greetings and welcome to the My Office boozskeller and roadhouse,” its scratchy speakers broadcast as the tinny voice it projected modulated slightly, “home of the galaxy-famous hot pea chili. Happy hour is from five to seven. Every Thursday is ladies’ night.”

  I’m sure plenty of “ladies” take advantage of that, Deckland thought sarcastically as he stepped toward the entrance and cautiously pushed through the swinging doors.

  Light from the outside illuminated the dust in the air inside the boozskeller as Deckland entered. The wooden floorboards creaked beneath him as he took stock of the place. There wasn’t much inside other than a bar, some tables and chairs, and booths toward the back. The lighting was dark and dingy. The air smelled of cheap alcohol and stale lowbacco smoke. There was a piano in the corner with digital keys that auto-played synth-shantygrass music softly, some of its keys noticeably off pitch. A large Recklec w
ith a stony orange hide sat at one of the tables, looking grumpy and nursing a large mug of beer, while some other grizzled patrons of Regal descent sat not far away playing a game of Loquir.

  Behind the bar stood a woman with sun-bleached hair. She looked like she might have been beautiful in her youth, but now her face was weathered from age and hard living. She was cleaning a glass as Deckland approached the bar, her blue eyes gazing at him suspiciously.

  “You’re in the wrong place, core-worlder,” the woman said.

  “Not if this is My Office,” Deckland replied. “In that case, I’m exactly where I need to be… however depressing that is.”

  “And why would someone like you need to be here?” the woman asked. “Unless you’re lost.”

  “I’m looking for somebody. A man by the name of Braxxon Berenger. I was told he comes here often.”

  The woman raised an eyebrow. “You got business with Berenger?” she asked.

  “I do.”

  “Is that business debt collection or revenge?”

  “Um… neither, actually,” Deckland said as he took his badge out and set it on the bar. “I’m here on a work-related matter.”

  The woman squinted at the badge and smirked. “Humph. Shoulda known,” she muttered. “You look like a suit. Which are ya? IIA or IIS?”

  “As of yesterday, I’m a Galactic Ranger, ma’am,” Deckland said, his patience beginning to wear thin. “I was told to report to Ranger Berenger, only apparently Ranger Berenger neither likes to work from his actual office nor sees fit to tell anyone where he’s going to be. So, here I am, trying to track him down so I can actually get started on my new job. Now, if you wouldn’t mind, could you please tell me if he’s here?”