Ray Gun Revival magazine, Issue 53

cutting him off. If he succeeds, he’ll
be out of your reach. If he fails,
Earth has no further use for him,
good hunting.”
Graves eyed the Director cautiously.
“Whose side are you on?”
“Earth’s, Agent Graves. Always
Earth’s.”
Graves thought it over. “What
about Red Dog and Priest?”
“It’s out of my hands. A warrant
has been issued, men have been
sent out. The best, I might add.
Daley insisted on it. I think he took
your tampering with his database
personally.”
“No deal then. They’re my responsibility.”
“I can rescind the warrant. That’s
the best I can offer. You’re really not
in a very strong position to negotiate.”
“Pull the warrant then. If Daley’s
men stay after them, my money’s on
the Cillian.” Graves hesitated. “And
I want Casey. Give me a warrant to
bring him in.”
“You know that’s out of the question,”
snapped the Director. “I’m fast
running out of patience, Agent.”
“If he drops the ball, you want me
to bring him down, right?” insisted
Graves stubbornly. “Then give me
an excuse. If not on this, then on
something else. Anything else.”
“My last concession,” the Director
warned. “If you can find evidence of
wrong-doing, large or small, then I’ll
give you a warrant.”
“As simple as that?”
“As simple as that.”
Graves nodded slowly. “We have
a deal,” he said, wondering if the
Director had forgotten or was only
pretending to forget: all warrants on
the Frontier were ‘dead or alive.’
“You are a good agent, Hyland.
I’m glad you’re sticking with us.” The
Director turned to leave. “I’ll go now
and let you have a word alone with
your former partner.”
Graves glanced down. The ruby
splotch of the laser sight was gone.
“Glad that worked out,” Lumley
said.
Graves turned, faked a punch at
Lumley’s face with his left. As the
other man jerked his arms up reflexively,
Graves unloaded a right
into Lumley’s stomach as hard as he
could swing. Lumley dropped to his
knees, retching.
“I need to borrow your comm,”
Graves said. Lumley was curling into
a ball on the tile floor, too busy gagging
to answer.
In his pocket, he carried the list
of codes and numbers he had found
in Senator Hazel’s files, his last bargaining
chip. Priest had not been
able to make heads or tales out of
the list. Graves, veteran of Earth bureaucracy,
had chosen not to inform
him. Some he recognized, like the
number and code for the Director of
ErSec and the Secretary of Defense,
others he had not.
Graves lifted Lumley’s comm unit,
punching in the final number on the
list then the access code that accompanied
it. Hearing the voice that
answered, he broke the link. He had
wondered how high the conspiracy
stretched.
Now he knew.
Calamity’s Child © 2009 by M. Keaton.
ISSUE 53
Page 44