Goldie

>Authorized Access: Personal Files – Goldie Keller

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>>Archived Record//Found

>>>User: *Marigold ‘Goldie’ Keller* //03/22/2156//03:44:09>App: Journal-Entry

On the outskirts of the Compact sector, you will find Bacchus. Now, I know you’ve at least heard of it. It has been compared to the great “Las Vegas” of the old world. Towering monuments holding shows starring the greatest talents of music, magic, comedy, competitive fighting, strip clubs, etc. Gambling on every level (and I do mean every level) is everywhere. Movie stars fight to build gargantuan estates on it. Many of notorious criminals tried to steal from it, some even succeeding. Their names living on forever. It is said that the lights produced from the surface outshine our red sun. A star amongst stars. However, Bacchus has plenty of regions were the once considered ‘glamorous’ has fallen to the fitting title of ‘tacky’. It is in those regions filled with the dense stale odor of tack-smoke and stains, whose origins would shock and horrify you, that we fall upon my home. A storage unit. Say what you want but you can’t find cheaper rent. I should know because I look weekly.

I guess this all started with Juvie. I had been caught running unauthorized material to a vendor. Which was a load of bull! It’s my job to deliver. Not my fault it was untaxed alcohol! Still got a year for it though. Whatever. Got my GED in there, so it wasn’t an entire waste. When I got out, not much had changed. My older brother, David, was busier than ever. The twins were tall enough to grab things off tables. Which was a nightmare. I had to get my old job back to help pay the bills until I moved out. Some years passed and everything was running smoothly. Then Rigs, an old business rival, decided to make a move on a big score and my life went to shit. Now, my memory isn’t the best on the details, but I’ll try my best.

I had just entered the door to my router, Herald. Routers are the middleman on delivery jobs of a questionable nature. Aka, the good paying jobs. Rigs darted passed me and out the door before it even had a chance to close. “The hell is her deal?” I asked Herald as I turned back to him and walked up to the counter.

“Can’t.” Herald replied and started writing up the next delivery slip.

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Both.” Herald glared.

“I really do love our talks, Her-Her. Such vocabulary. It’s almost like poetry.” I grinned. “I buy you three rounds at the Song if you tell me. Come on, pretty please?” And I, maybe, leaned forward a bit. Gotta use what you got, right?

Herald sighed and stared hard into my eyes, which meant he was focusing his peripheral vision lower. I knew it, slick pervert. He relented, “It’s a no-slip.”

I blinked. Those jobs, while incredibly dangerous, often had huge payouts. Normally just an address, time, and vague description. The concept was often simple. Go to the location, grab the item, and deliver it to where-ever they indicated. More often than not, they held drugs or stolen goods. But the money was always great. “Four,” I snapped, “Four rounds if you tell me the specs.” Herald shook his head and opened his mouth to speak but I cut him off. “And a date.” Now Herald was the one blinking.

After a bit of time, long enough to take it a bit personal, he nodded. “One hour from now. 1631 Commons Drive. Small black book.”

“This isn’t going to be some rich kid’s dirty little black book, right? I’m not going to go through all of this just to find a hook up for some spoiled brat.” Which was a lie. Anything that took money from Rigs and put it in my pocket was worth the time.

I pulled up to an old slot machine factory a half hour later. Rigs was already leaning against her hood. She had come in her ship. Lucky rich princess. My hover-bike wasn’t fancy, but it got the job done and had been my trusty steed for years. To be extra annoying I parked in front of her. She could fly in that thing, but nothing beats pulling up on a rival when they are just about to get a good payout.

“What are you doing here, Goldie-locks? This marker is mine!” Rigs growled, like a jerk.

“Pulling up to grab my next delivery, what you- No, don’t tell me. Herald double booked again?!” I feigned shock, “What a terrible mistake?! If you wanna to go back and talk to him about it, I’ll wait right here and…”

“Buzz off! Deal is mine and you know it!” Rigs growled. Again, like a jerk.

I slid off my bike and walked a bit closer, “Maybe I’m just out here for the weather? Nice day to wonder the streets, don’t you think? Get some good pollution in my lungs.” I took a deep inhale. “Really good for the soul.”

Rigs turned sharply, mouth already spitting out her rebuttal when a cardboard box fell from nowhere and dropped between us. Then all hell broke loose.

I grabbed the box first. Rigs saw this and responded with tearing off part of her jacket and there was a loud boom. My vision shook. Ears rang. No job was worth this. I tossed the box and turned towards my bike. Which I noticed she had just shot a big hole into the battery pack. Smoke billowed out of the holes on either side. The smell of lithium gas filled the air. We were standing next to a firebomb seconds away from going off. Unfortunately, fear fled me. Big mistake. Fear makes us move to continue living. Any sane person would be in the next district by now instead of facing down someone armed. All I felt was angry. That was my bike. My bike. Sentimental value aside, it would take me months of footwork to save up for another one. Rigs was rummaging through some boxes. The box must have fell in them somewhere. Rigs smiled as she picked up the book that had fallen out. So, I turned and socked Rigs in the jaw. She went out like a light. I picked up the book off the ground as sirens chimed in the distance.

I had to act. Fast.

I rummaged through Rig’s jacket and got her keys. It was a simple Slim model. Meant for city use, but you could go to space with it. Hard push though. I was hoping I could go up there till things cooled down. Sirens from I.R.D.’s (Immediate Response Drones. Police drones.) blared closer. So, I hopped in and put the book on my lap. After blindly fiddling with the controls, a keypad flashed on the dash. I practically stabbed at the keypad till it took off. Thank the stars Rig’s was dumb enough to buy the auto-pilot version. My thanks turned into curses when I found out she cheap-ed out on inertia dampeners. I could barely breath as it ascended straight up. When the force receded, I was surrounded by space. The vast blackness that I looked up and imagined all the cool adventures I would have on most nights as a kid. I marveled for just a second.

Then warning lights filled the cockpit. The police drones were gaining on me. Got to give it to Bacchus Police, they do not cheap out on their drones.

Now, when I tell this story to everyone, I alter this one detail. I say that I roared and slammed the hyper-whatever and got out of there. What really happened? Something entirely embarrassing. I squeaked and punched the console. I must have hit something right and the Slim model shot off into the black. I was out of radar on the police drones in an eyeblink, but I didn’t know how to stop the damned thing! After a subjective eternity, I found the reverse thrusters and was able to slow down enough. Lucky for me because I was about to hit a small moon.

I landed to get my barring. And, well, because I was out of fuel. I looked at my watch. The shock of it all made me laugh so hard that I had tears in my eyes. Seven minutes. My life had changed in seven minutes. I couldn’t go back home now. Rigs would say I stole her ship, because I did, and then I’d go to jail. Plus, there was the book. Which, what was this thing anyway? With hesitant hands, I slowly peeled back the cover to reveal-

You’ve got to be kidding me.

A horrid list of women’s names, a creepy ‘score’ next to them, and with various contact information. One of them being a ‘A clean credit card’. Didn’t even want to know what that meant. All of this. Gunshot, punching out Rigs, running from the police, grand theft of a ship. All of it. Just so some rich kid could find a lay. Why use the ‘no-slip’ for something so stupid? For a moment, I wasn’t scared or worried. I was made that I was dumb enough to accept this job in the first place.

Life support read out that I had a few days left. Didn’t matter. I was toast. Once the police expanded their search, I would be an easy find. After about an hour of stoically waiting to be found and not crying about going to jail, I saw the glint of red and blue. “If I get out of this, I’m getting a different job.”

To be fair, the owner of that book paid for my lawyer.

>> Archive Record: Personal Files – Goldie Keller//Exited