The cell door slammed on Aaron Blitzfingers, the dangerous, wild-eyed criminal finally captured due to the efforts of my partner Trace and I. I smiled to myself for the first time in months, content that with the precautions we had taken this time, Aaron could not have stolen in something to escape again, like he had back on Veryss II. We were lucky to have escaped with our lives that time. Greater men than us had died in pursuit of this kleptomaniac. We were sure not to underestimate him, but he was just far too fast, capable of moving while seeming to stand still even to cybernetic-modified eyes.
Trace slipped a glass into my hand, patting me on the shoulder. “We finally got him Jason. Now all that’s left is to get him to tell us where the loot is.” I looked down at the glass, seeing the vile mixture of synthetic gin and artificial flavors I so enjoyed. I turned, knocking my glass against his and then knocking it back, draining it. The ordeals were not over by far. We still had to interrogate Aaron, find all of his stolen goods, return as much as possible to its owners, and then transport him with the utmost of caution over several systems to the nearest police precinct. With Aaron’s skill and godlike dexterity, every hour spent was another chance for him to escape.
After the glass was empty, I turned towards Trace again, seeing his familiar long, stoic face and shoulder-length, metallic silver hair. “Now it’s time for you to get to work. Aaron isn’t going to interrogate himself. I trust you will stay inside the law.” I hated having to resort to torture for our answers, but a high class criminal like Aaron wasn’t exactly going to roll over and give up. Not after the eight months we’ve spent harrowing him, chasing him from planet to planet, always one step behind. While Trace set to work, I popped up a TerrahNet terminal to register the arrest. I logged in with a swipe of the wrist, the terminal reading the chip implanted in my arm.
“Welcome Jason Xavier DeLane,” the terminal said with green letters over its black holographic screen. I snaked out my customized neural tether, interfacing with the network and uploading the necessary information straight from my brain. I saw my reflection in the opaque hologram screen, my long, black- and green-framed eyes further framed by bags of exhaustion. My sharp jawline was dusted with a fine fuzz of neglect, and long whispy strands of my midnight black hair floated free of my ponytail. I really need some rest; this whole Aaron business has me completely frazzled. Stress like this has been known to cause some pretty crazy reactions in people. As if to punctuate my thoughts, a cry of pain echoed through the walls. What if Trace goes too far? Or worse, what if he only claims he couldn’t get the information out of Aaron so he could keep the stolen goods for himself? A voice seemed to beckon from inside of me. I shook my head and fumbled out a flask of stimulant, realizing this voice must be from exhaustion. No. That would never happen. Trace is completely loyal. Well why not? You could join him, split a mound of credits that would dwarf the yearly income of your entire barony. Trace would never do that. Then do it yourself, forget him. I shook my head again, quickly, as if I was trying to shake off a coating of mud. I then shot back the flask of stimulant, bracing myself for the sudden shock of energy through my body.
Distracted by this onset of false vitality, I didn’t notice the soft footsteps of someone approaching until they passed. I saw the blur as it rushed to the door. From the shock of lighting-yellow hair I saw, it could have only been Aaron! I reached down to draw my stunner, but realized it was across the room on my desk, next to my trench coat, both deposited there when I walked in. I realized I would have to resort to potentially lethal force to avoid his escape again. I snapped my left arm forward, deploying the crossbow-missile launcher pistol from its arm harness into my hand, but before I could fire, I felt the barrel of a pistol against my back.
“Don’t try it Jason,” I heard Trace’s voice say from behind me, and it was already too late. Aaron was long gone.
“Why Trace? We had finally caught him! We could have been heroes, and the reward was outrageously high!” I shouted, rage building in my voice.
“Not as high as a slight percent of Aaron’s hoard. Let’s just say I got a better offer…” Trace’s voice was dripping with scorn, something I had rarely heard from him. He had always seemed so calm, so controlled, so apathetic. Who knew he was just a slight temptation away from throwing away everything?
“But we’ve been partners for years!” I cried, my last appeal to the reason I had thought he possessed.
“Consider this,” he said, firing three monomolecular-edged razor discs through my back, “my resignation.” Slashes of pain tore through my insides, and I saw the discs erupt through my chest and into the wall in front of me as if I was watching it happen to someone else. I coughed, spurting blood from my mouth. Blood that had been pooling in my lungs. I inhaled, feeling my breath shallow and hindered, as my lungs were flooding with blood. I fell to my knees, then to the floor. Trace walked over my prone body, laughing with scorn. My vision faded as he closed the door, leaving me alone in a pool of my own blood. I guess this is the end. My partner, who I had trusted with my life, decided to take it.
NO! You’re not going to die here. Can you not feel your nanites already rebuilding you? Trace got arrogant, and sloppy. In just a few hours, a day at most, you can get up, hunt him down, and exact your revenge on that traitorous dog. The voice from before beckoned again, this time keeping me from death’s grasp. No, I thought to myself, not revenge. Justice. All along it turns out Trace was a criminal, and I’ll not rest till he dies as one.