Dekker's Dozen #003
"Just don't screw this up, Guy."
Guy shrugged, "Who, me?" He and Dekker walked into the waiting transport skiff.
Dekker shot him a look.
"I'm telling you, that wasn't my fault."
"What wasn't your fault?"
"Whichever thing you're thinking about," Guy defended weakly.
Dekker crawled past Vesuvius and into the pilot's seat; Guy followed as far as the control cabin. Dekker wasn't exactly in a jovial mood.
Guy glanced at Vesuvius. She'd brooded quietly, moodily, for the last couple days. All morning she'd thoughtfully fingered that metal cylinder the MEA constabulary forces had given them. Her dark mood scared Guy to sobriety; he didn't want to get stabbed.
"I hear ya, Dekker. I'll drop you and Vees down at the Miyajima temple and finish the transport."
"Good. You should have just enough time to complete the job and get back to receive us. This one's all on you. Nothing should blow up."
Guy grimaced. "I dunno. Didn't you read this guy's file?"
"I read every file."
"Yeah, but the guy doesn't exist. No record, vanilla info—except that the powers that be want him ferried to a site that doesn't technically exist. They're sticking him in some deep dark hole; it's some kind of black ops, under the table thing. What little is left in the MEA intelligence community wants this guy gone."
"You're paranoid."
"Am I, Vees?"
"Not this time," Dekker said flatly. "I read every file. Both the text and between the lines."
"So you don't think I'm crazy this time?"
"Just do the job properly. You bid this one. It's your job; just don't let it reflect poorly on the Dozen. And don't blow up my skiff."
Catch Me If You Can
Dekker ran the preflight diagnostics on the transport vehicle. He looked up at the flashing alert and checked the data exchange before activating the door release.
A loud groan filled the inside of the loading bay. Two sections of wall tilted on their hydraulic axis, granting access to the team waiting outside.
Vesuvius, usually groomed meticulously, hadn't straightened her hair in days. She brushed a curly lock from her face and peered out the window and watched.
Guy jogged over to the delivery officers. The men, dressed as MEA constables, wore real side-arms and body armor—not exactly common. Guy signed the documentation and directed his colleagues Corgan and Rock escorted their new "friend" to the holding bay of the Dozen's skiff.
"Since when do these guys carry pistols? I've seen a few carry worthless 'beamers,' but those guys are packing real heat," Vesuvius observed.
Dekker peered over the console and agreed. "I gather this prisoner is... of special interest."
* * *
A plume of water shot skyward behind skiff as it raced above the ocean's surface, speeding north from Reef City. Inside, Dekker shifted out of the pilot's seat and let Corgan slide in to take the stick. Dekker took Vesuvius' hand.
"Come here. I've got something you should look at."
Viv looked up, quizzical. Curiosity replaced her gloom and she followed him to the passenger cabin.
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Dekker's Dozen: The Last Watchmen
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