21 A New Player
Timestamp: 2813
The first couple of years after the Great Betrayal were the worst of my life, and that’s saying something. Constantly hunted. Always looking over our shoulders. Sleeping with one hand clasped to my kid and the other on a gun. Not gonna lie; I learned to hate the IXTF. They were a relentless group of assholes who obviously had no sense of decent business hours.
My boy’s earliest memories were of us stealing off in the middle of the night, pursued by masked men with guns, hounded by sirens, and hiding in ditches. Many times barely staying a step ahead of arrest and the secret alien detention centers. I had many friends in there. I probably still do.
The Woodchuck Chuck was Roen’s kind of bar. It was rundown, and looked like it was built during the first gold rush. The counter was made to look like one big log with a flat top, and there were half a dozen stuffed woodchucks arranged throughout the establishment. Best of all, they served dollar draft beers all day every day. To save the effort of making multiple trips to the counter, Roen ordered four glasses and brought them to the table near the window, where he had a clear view of Saint Alphonsus Hospital across the street.
Marco, sitting opposite him at the small round table, grabbed one of the glasses and took a swig. “Heavens man, what sort of piss beer is this?”
“It’s an American beer. I think it’s called Pa -”
“Well good God, no wonder. Is there anything else? I’ll even drink a French beer if I have to.”
“Snob,” Roen said, swiping the two glasses in front of Marco and moving them to his side of the table. “Fine, I’ll keep these babies all to myself. There, there, lovelies,” he purred, stroking the glasses. “The redcoat is just an asshole.” He put his finger to his ear, looked out the window, and then back at Marco.
The Englishman nodded. “Got it.” A smile broke out on both their faces and they gave each other high-fives. Marco took back one of the glasses and held it up. “You’re a cretinous dolt, but every once in a while, you have moments of brilliance.”
Roen didn’t know what cretinous meant, but why ruin the celebratory mood by asking? He clinked glasses with Marco and they downed their beers, both eying the other’s progress to make sure they didn’t lose. Then, they paused and listened as Elias updated them again.
“Give Prie four days to rest before we bust him out?” Roen asked.
Marco shook his head. “Nah, I say we nab him after we finish the mission. Depending on logistics, we could wrap up here anywhere from a week to a month. The longer we let the man recover in the hospital, the better off he’ll be. Besides, we swipe him early, and we’ll be smack in the middle of a manhunt as we try to complete the mission.”
“There’s risk with that plan, though,” Roen countered. “We’ll need to have him watched constantly, either by one of us, or someone on the inside. If we’re not ready when they move him, he could slip from our grasps.”
“It’s a risk we’ll have to take. We retrieve him at the last minute when we finish, not a day sooner.” Marco picked up another glass of beer from Roen’s side of the table. It seemed the bad American beer wasn’t so bad after all. “By the way, have you heard back from Jill yet?”
Roen shook his head. The line had gone dead during their meeting, and his cell phone bricked shortly afterward. That could only mean a few things. Either vulnerability in their network had been discovered, and it had to be shut down to prevent intrusion, or someone external had taken it down. Jill could have also locked the system out, but that was reserved for emergencies.
In any case, Roen wasn’t going to panic yet. The Prophus’s network wasn’t exactly what anyone would call robust. With things going the way they had for the past decade, the old infrastructure had suffered more than its regular share of failures. If the system wasn’t back in a few days, then he could start worrying.
For now, he had more pressing matters to keep him occupied. Currently, Roen and Marco were surveying the outside of the hospital while Elias and Helen pretended to be a couple going to the emergency room because she was suffering from abdominal pains. At this very moment, Helen was in one of the ER waiting rooms while Elias had wandered away and scouted the medical center for Prie.
A quick search and a few questions later, the team learned that his surgery had been successful, and he was now in stable condition. Unfortunately, due to the fact that he had suffered a gunshot wound, and that the doctors had Penetra scanned him, he was now on full lock-down. There was currently a policeman guarding his door.
Roen looked up from his beer. “Elias says he thinks it’s just a small-town deputy. With that sort of security, we could bust him out with a slingshot during our lunch break.”
“Let’s not push our luck, Roen.”
They were into their second hour of surveillance when their luck pushed back. There was a small commotion at the other end of the bar as a group of people walked into the Woodchuck Chuck and took the table at the far end. Roen, focused on counting the paths the ambulances tended to use, paid them no attention.
“Hi, could I get three pitchers of whatever you have on tap, and a glass of wine. White, please,” a woman asked.
Roen perked up. That voice sounded familiar. He slowly swiveled his head as casually as he could and saw her back profile: stocky, a charcoal business suit, brown hair down just past her shoulders, low heels.
“No, nothing too sweet. How about a chardonnay?” she continued.
Again, that voice. So familiar. Roen signaled to Marco, who had noticed his interest, to stay seated. He got up and wandered nearer to her at the bar, stealing a glance her way. Late thirties, early forties. Very athletic, but oddly stout body. Possibly military. Sharp alert eyes – she had noticed him staring right away.
He tried to think of something witty to say. “White wine in this joint. Classy.”
Oh stop talking. Insulting her is not going to get you anywhere.
At least that’s what Tao would have said if he were here. Roen meant it as a joke. Damn it. He realized how the words sounded right as they left his mouth. The woman gave him a perplexed, irritated glance and then turned her back to him.
That should be your signal to stop.
That was what Tao would say next. Instead, Roen doubled down and tried to make up for his mistake. “No, that’s not what I meant. I mean, you seem to know your wines, which is funny because I didn’t think this place, this town even, would attract…” He stopped.
The woman shot him an insulted look and then pointed at the group of men in the corner staring back at them. “You see that table over there with the four big guys? They’re with me, so I suggest you just fuck off.”
Roen swiveled his head and saw what looked like the offensive line for the Oregon State football team. They all waved in unison, none of them looking particularly friendly. Immediately, two scenarios popped up into his head. One involved shooting everyone and running out the back, and the other leaving that offensive line crippled and The Woodchuck Chuck a busted-up mess. He’d also still have to run out the back. They probably would have to find a new surveillance place too; one that didn’t serve cheap beer.
Roen grimaced and swallowed his pride. He waved back. “Sorry to bother you,” he mumbled, beating a hasty retreat.
“What the devil was all that about?” Marco asked. “I know she’s the only woman in the pub but you really are all sorts of rusty, aren’t you?”
“Shut up,” Roen said. It still bothered him. He didn’t recognize her face. Could she be a Genjix? He wished Tao was here right now so he could confirm through touch. He wished Tao was here right now for a lot of reasons. His old friend wouldn’t have let him put his foot into his mouth so badly. Heck, if Tao were here, he would just find her in Roen’s memory for him. Most of all, he just missed his friend, and it was times like this that reminded Roen of all the small things that Tao meant to him.