A SEPARATE LAW: PART ONE - [Comm-Links](https://api.star-citizen.wiki/comm-links) - A SEPARATE LAW: PART ONE A SEPARATE LAW: PART ONE ======================== Undefined Undefined A Separate Law [Previous](https://api.star-citizen.wiki/comm-links/13136) [Next](https://api.star-citizen.wiki/comm-links/13139) Content ------- English Knowing it was bound to go sideways, Gates went in anyway. Sometimes, stepping directly into a situation was the only way to salvage it. Beyond that, you had to be seen trying to protect your assets. If people learned your snitches could be hurt or killed with impunity, the price of information grew too great for a poor working man. He sighed and resisted the urge to check his weapons again. The sensor blister mounted in the elevator ceiling was probably recording. And if they’re smart, Tiger Kitty has someone watching through the nets, so why give away any hints what I’m here for? The tenement elevator creaked to a stop, door opening at a decrepit pace Gates found both annoying and symbolic of the general state of the planet and its vast populace of Civilians. Impatient, he turned sideways and slid into a hall marginally less dank and dark than most Civilian housing he’d been in during his near-fifty years working this kind of operation. Lenses adjusting quickly to the dimness, Gates picked out details he would have just as soon miss: the carcass of a rat in the far end of the hall, hard by the fire door, stimstick stubs and less identifiable things littering the rest of the hall, the vacant hall. No physical sentry? Not so smart, after all. It is late, but still, I thought Tiger Kitty smarter. Gates walked past the door, put his back to the wall beside it and pulled the local-built compromiser out. He hated relying on local, untested tech, but in this case the possibility of leaving an electronic signature that could lead investigators to suspect an off-planet connection was not acceptable. He needn’t have worried — the local locks proved less reliable than the compromiser, releasing their hold on the door in a few seconds. He put the compromiser back in his pocket and drew his sidearm. The cheap door groaned along its tracks as it opened. He stepped inside, gun in the lead and sweeping the corners for targets. Short entry hall, opening on the left for a kitchenette, another opening straight ahead. He checked the kitchen: tiny, full of stinks, smears and discarded food containers, no threats. Moving on, Gates entered the main living area. A female, snoring lightly, ass-up, on an air mattress laid out in the midst of what appeared to be an incongruously pricey entertainment system. The grinding whine of a poorly-maintained waste recycling unit announced the presence of the other inhabitant and identified the room off the living area as the bathroom. Gates crossed the floor in a few strides, put his back to the wall. The bathroom door popped open, his quarry shuffling out. Tiger Kitty had looked better in the booking vids. Shortly, he would look a lot worse. Gates kicked out, hard, into the back of his knee. Kitty went down, hard, head caroming off the entertainment console’s casing and activating the system. Sataball scores and standings scrolled through the air between them. Gates closed and snapped another kick into Kitty’s face as he rolled over. Tiger Kitty collapsed onto the mattress, waking the sleeper from her doped slumber. “Wha?“ Doper asked. “Angelique sends her regards,” Gates said, stepping forward and sending his boot into the woman’s groin. Doper wheezed, rolling into a ball in a belated attempt to protect herself. Kitty was trying to shake the stars from his eyes. Gates put a stop to that by pressing the barrel of his pistol to the man’s bloody forehead. “I have money.” “I bet you do. Unfortunately for you, this isn’t about money.” “I got dope.” Gates tapped Kitty’s forehead with the pistol’s aperture, “Again, not what this is about.” “What, then?” Kitty whined. “You beat a girl bloody the other night, you and your friend here,” Gates sent a lazy kick at Doper, sending the wind from her again, “tuned her up real good, all because she had the nerve to come looking to buy from you, money in hand, no less.” “She deserv–” Gates shut him up with the gun. When Kitty was tracking again, Gates returned to his narrative: “Now, leaving aside the bad business practice of beating up customers willing to pay for their dope with cash instead of–of, what was it, again?” Gates asked, knowing the answer. Kitty opened his mouth but Gates cut him off: “Oh, yes, you wanted her to get in bed with you and your friend here.” Kitty’s only answer was the closing of his bleeding mouth. “That particular girl, the one who resisted your advances? Her saying ‘no’ should have been enough for you, but it wasn’t. Now you have been made aware she has friends. Friends who would be terribly disappointed to learn she’d been harmed, refused service, or even spoken to with less than the utmost respect. Their disappointment will lead to another visit from me or someone like me. That visit will not be a polite conversation like this. In fact, very little would be said, beyond a bit of begging on your part, if the messenger was into listening to such before he blew your brains out the back of your head.” Gates smiled, “Am I understood?” Wiping his bloody mouth, Kitty nodded. “Tell me I won’t have to come back.” Kitty spat blood. “You won’t.” “Can I trust that you speak for your friend here, too?” He gestured with his free hand at where Doper was still curled up and wheezing. Another nod. Too easy, part of him whispered. “You wouldn’t happen to be telling me what I want to hear, would you?” Gates asked. Kitty shook his head, blood spattering the floor between them. “Somehow, I don’t believe you.” “Don’t know what I can say to that.” Kitty looked into Gates’ eyes. He read angry, sure, but there was a healthy dose of fear in there as well. Gates shrugged. “Fair enough, I suppose.” He gestured at Doper, “Might want to get your girl to a medstation.” When Kitty looked at his lover, Gates backed toward the door. “Remember what we’ve discussed,” he said from the doorway. Another nod. Gates made his exit, but didn’t go far. A moment later he heard a clatter from inside followed by the sound of bare feet on the floor. Stupid. Could have got off with a warning, kid. Kitty charged out, cheap pistol in hand and a snarl on split lips. Gates, kneeling just outside the door, put him down with two shots. Blood and bone spattered the lower third of the doorway, paired snaps of coherent light superheating cartilage and making a mess of the workings of the dealer’s knees. Kitty slammed into the floor, momentum sending him sliding across the hall to slap face-first into the apartment door on the other side. Shaking his head at the stupidity of man, Gates headed for the stairs. Doper’s screams started as the fire door snapped closed behind him. Gates barely spared her a thought as he mounted the stair. Kitty would survive if Doper would unlock from panic long enough to call emergency services. Gates exited the stair on the top floor, walking out onto street level. This far into the planet’s sixteen-hour night, the streets were just beginning to return to life. He hailed a passing pedicab and boarded. “Central Station,” he said. A few blocks from the station Gates reactivated his MobiGlas. The device immediately pinged with a number of alerts, including an incoming call from Agent In Charge Mitchi Oda. Suppressing a sigh, he opened the channel, “Gates.” The Advocacy Seal was replaced by Oda’s disapproving expression. “Where have you been, Agent Gates?” “Serving my suspension, remember?” “Your suspension ended last night.” Gates covered surprise with a shrug, and a drawled: “News to me.” “Wouldn’t be if you kept your MobiGlas on.” Gates let it pass. She’s not half my age, has barely a tenth my field experience, and, frankly, isn’t worth arguing with. “I assume you aren’t calling to congratulate me on my reinstatement, then?” he asked. “No,” she answered, lips twisting as if she found her next words distasteful: ”though I am required to formally lift your suspension for the record: Special Agent Arminius Gates, you are formally reinstated to your rank and privilege as Special Agent of the Advocacy.” “Thank you, Special Agent Oda.” She tossed her head. “Wouldn’t have happened, were it up to me.” Again he let it pass, focused instead on what was important. Suspecting he’d be riding a desk, doing something boring like background investigations on potential civilian contractors, he asked her, “What assignment, then?” He hadn’t thought she could look more bitter. “You’re going back to the Black Box: Special Action Division requested you return.” Home. He couldn’t keep a broad smile from creasing his lips. “Thank you, Special Agent Oda.” . . . to be continued In dem Wissen, dass es zwangsläufig zur Seite gehen würde, ging Gates trotzdem hinein. Manchmal war der direkte Einstieg in eine Situation der einzige Weg, sie zu retten. Darüber hinaus musste man sehen, wie man versuchte, sein Vermögen zu schützen. Wenn die Leute erfuhren, dass Ihre Spitzel ungestraft verletzt oder getötet werden könnten, wuchs der Preis der Informationen zu hoch für einen armen Arbeiter. Er seufzte und widersetzte sich dem Drang, seine Waffen noch einmal zu überprüfen. Die Sensorblase, die in der Aufzugsdecke montiert ist, hat wahrscheinlich aufgezeichnet. Und wenn sie klug sind, hat Tiger Kitty jemanden, der durch die Netze schaut, also warum also irgendwelche Hinweise geben, wofür ich hier bin? Der Mietshausaufzug knarrte bis zum Stillstand, die Tür öffnete sich mit abnehmendem Tempo, Gates fanden den allgemeinen Zustand des Planeten und seiner riesigen Bevölkerung von Zivilisten sowohl lästig als auch symbolisch. Ungeduldig drehte er sich zur Seite und rutschte in eine Halle, die etwas weniger feucht und dunkel war als die meisten zivilen Wohnungen, in denen er während seiner fast fünfzigjährigen Tätigkeit bei dieser Art von Operation gewohnt hatte. Objektive, die sich schnell an die Dunkelheit anpassen, wählten Gates Details aus, die er ebenso schnell vermissen würde: den Kadaver einer Ratte am anderen Ende der Halle, hart an der Feuertür, Stickstiche und weniger erkennbare Dinge, die den Rest der Halle, die leere Halle, verunreinigen. Keine physische Wache? Nicht so schlau, schließlich. Es ist spät, aber trotzdem dachte ich, Tiger Kitty wäre klüger. Gates ging an der Tür vorbei, stellte seinen Rücken an die Wand daneben und zog den lokal gebauten Kompromissler heraus. Er hasste es, sich auf lokale, ungetestete Technologien zu verlassen, aber in diesem Fall war die Möglichkeit, eine elektronische Signatur zu hinterlassen, die Ermittler dazu bringen könnte, eine Verbindung außerhalb des Planeten zu vermuten, nicht akzeptabel. Er hätte sich keine Sorgen machen müssen - die lokalen Schlösser erwiesen sich als weniger zuverlässig als der Kompromissler und ließen ihren Griff an der Tür in wenigen Sekunden los. Er steckte den Kompromissler wieder in die Tasche und zog seine Unterarme. Die billige Tür stöhnte beim Öffnen entlang ihrer Schienen. Er trat ein, schoss mit einer Kanone in die Führung und machte die Kurven nach Zielen durch. Kurze Eingangshalle, links öffnend für eine Küchenzeile, eine weitere Öffnung geradeaus. Er überprüfte die Küche: winzig, voller Gestank, Abstriche und weggeworfene Lebensmittelbehälter, keine Drohungen. Weiter geht es, Gates betrat den Hauptwohnbereich. Eine Frau, die leicht schnarcht, auf einer Luftmatratze, die inmitten eines scheinbar unpassend teuren Unterhaltungssystems liegt. Der Schleifjammer einer schlecht gewarteten Abfallverwertungsanlage kündigte die Anwesenheit des anderen Bewohners an und identifizierte den Raum außerhalb des Wohnbereichs als Badezimmer. Gates überquerten den Boden in wenigen Schritten, legten seinen Rücken an die Wand. Die Badezimmertür sprang auf, sein Steinbruch schlurfte heraus. Tiger Kitty hatte in den Buchungsvideos besser ausgesehen. Kurz darauf würde er viel schlechter aussehen. Die Tore traten hart in den hinteren Teil seines Knies. Kitty ging unter, hart, mit dem Kopf vom Gehäuse der Unterhaltungskonsole herunter und aktivierte das System. Sataball-Tore und Tabellen scrollen durch die Luft zwischen ihnen. Gates schlossen sich und schlugen einen weiteren Tritt in Kitty's Gesicht, als er sich umdrehte. Tiger Kitty brach auf die Matratze zusammen und weckte den Schläfer aus ihrem dotierten Schlaf. " Was?" fragte Doper. "Angelique sendet ihre Grüße", sagte Gates, trat vor und schickte seinen Stiefel in die Leiste der Frau. Doper keuchte und rollte in einen Ball, in einem verspäteten Versuch, sich zu schützen. Kitty versuchte, die Sterne aus seinen Augen zu schütteln. Gates setzte dem ein Ende, indem er den Lauf seiner Pistole gegen die blutige Stirn des Mannes drückte. "Ich habe Geld." "Ich wette, das tust du. Leider geht es hier für dich nicht um Geld." "Ich habe Dope." Gates klopfte Kitty auf die Stirn mit der Pistolenöffnung, "Nochmals, nicht, worum es hier geht." "Was dann?" Kitty jammerte. "Du hast neulich ein Mädchen blutig geschlagen, du und dein Freund hier", schickte Gates einen faulen Tritt auf Doper, schickte den Wind von ihr wieder, "stimmte sie richtig gut ein, nur weil sie den Mut hatte, zu kommen und von dir zu kaufen, Geld in der Hand, nicht weniger." "Sie verdient es..." Gates hat ihn mit der Waffe zum Schweigen gebracht. Als Kitty wieder auf der Spur war, kehrte Gates zu seiner Erzählung zurück: "Abgesehen von der schlechten Geschäftspraxis, Kunden, die bereit sind, für ihr Dope mit Bargeld zu bezahlen, anstatt es mit Geld zu bezahlen, was war es dann noch mal?" fragte Gates und wusste die Antwort. Kitty öffnete seinen Mund, aber Gates schnitt ihn ab: "Oh, ja, du wolltest, dass sie mit dir und deinem Freund hier ins Bett geht." Kitty's einzige Antwort war das Schließen seines blutenden Mundes. "Dieses besondere Mädchen, diejenige, die sich deinen Annäherungsversuchen widersetzt hat? Ihr Nein hätte dir genügen sollen, aber das war es nicht. Jetzt wurdest du darauf aufmerksam gemacht, dass sie Freunde hat. Freunde, die furchtbar enttäuscht wären, wenn sie erfahren würden, dass ihr Schaden zugefügt, der Service verweigert oder sogar mit weniger als größtem Respekt gesprochen wurde. Ihre Enttäuschung wird zu einem weiteren Besuch von mir oder jemandem wie mir führen. Dieser Besuch wird kein höfliches Gespräch wie dieses sein. Tatsächlich würde sehr wenig gesagt werden, abgesehen von einem bisschen Betteln von deiner Seite, wenn der Bote solche hören wollte, bevor er dir das Gehirn aus dem Hinterkopf schoss." Gates lächelte: "Habe ich verstanden?" Als er sich den verdammten Mund abwischte, nickte Kitty. "Sag mir, dass ich nicht zurückkommen muss." Kitty spuckte Blut. "Das wirst du nicht." "Kann ich darauf vertrauen, dass du hier auch für deinen Freund sprichst?" Er gestikulierte mit seiner freien Hand, wo Doper noch zusammengerollt war und keuchte. Noch ein Nicken. Zu einfach, ein Teil von ihm flüsterte. "Du sagst mir nicht zufällig, was ich hören will, oder?" fragte Gates. Kitty schüttelte den Kopf und Blut spritzte den Boden zwischen ihnen. "Irgendwie glaube ich dir nicht." "Ich weiß nicht, was ich dazu sagen kann." Kitty sah Gates in die Augen. Er las wütend, sicher, aber da war auch eine gesunde Dosis Angst drin. Gates zuckte mit den Schultern. "In Ordnung, nehme ich an." Er gestikulierte zu Doper: "Vielleicht will er dein Mädchen an eine Meditationsstation bringen." Als Kitty seine Geliebte ansah, ging Gates zur Tür zurück. "Denke daran, was wir besprochen haben", sagte er von der Tür aus. Noch ein Nicken. Gates machte seinen Abgang, ging aber nicht weit. Einen Moment später hörte er ein Klappern von innen, gefolgt von dem Geräusch von nackten Füßen auf dem Boden. Dumm. Hätte mit einer Warnung davonkommen können, Junge. Kitty stürzte auf, billige Pistole in der Hand und ein Knurren auf gespaltenen Lippen. Gates, kniend direkt vor der Tür, legte ihn mit zwei Schüssen nieder. Blut und Knochen spritzte das untere Drittel der Türöffnung, paarweise Schnappschüsse von kohärentem Licht, die den Knorpel überhitzten und das Funktionieren der Knie des Händlers durcheinander brachten. Kitty knallte in den Boden und ließ ihn durch die Halle gleiten, um mit dem Gesicht nach vorne in die Wohnungstür auf der anderen Seite zu schlagen. Gates schüttelte den Kopf über die Dummheit des Menschen und ging zur Treppe. Doper's Schreie begannen, als die Feuertür hinter ihm geschlossen wurde. Gates ließ ihr kaum einen Gedanken, als er die Treppe bestieg. Kitty würde überleben, wenn Doper sich lange genug von der Panik befreien würde, um den Notdienst zu rufen. Tore verließen die Treppe im Dachgeschoss und gingen auf Straßenniveau hinaus. Bis weit in die sechzehnstündige Nacht des Planeten hinein begannen die Straßen gerade erst, ins Leben zurückzukehren. Er hagelte eine vorbeifahrende Pediküre und stieg ein. "Central Station", sagte er. Ein paar Blocks von der Station Gates entfernt reaktivierte er sein MobiGlas. Das Gerät wurde sofort mit einer Reihe von Warnungen versehen, darunter ein eingehender Anruf von Agent In Charge Mitchi Oda. Er unterdrückte einen Seufzer und öffnete den Kanal, "Gates". Das Advocacy-Siegel wurde durch Oda's missbilligenden Ausdruck ersetzt. "Wo waren Sie, Agent Gates?" "Ich diene meiner Suspendierung, erinnerst du dich?" "Deine Suspendierung ist gestern Abend beendet worden." Die Tore bedeckten die Überraschung mit einem Achselzucken und einem gezogenen: "Das ist mir neu." "Wäre es nicht, wenn du dein MobiGlas anbehalten würdest." Tore ließen es passieren. Sie ist nicht halb so alt wie ich, hat kaum ein Zehntel meiner Felderfahrung und ist es, offen gesagt, nicht wert, mit ihr zu diskutieren. "Ich nehme an, dann rufst du nicht an, um mir zu meiner Wiedereinstellung zu gratulieren?", fragte er. "Nein", antwortete sie und die Lippen verdrehten sich, als ob sie ihre nächsten Worte unangenehm fand: "obwohl ich verpflichtet bin, Ihre Suspendierung für das Protokoll formell aufzuheben. Special Agent Arminius Gates, Sie werden offiziell wieder in Ihren Rang und Ihr Privileg als Special Agent of the Advocacy aufgenommen." "Danke, Special Agent Oda." Sie warf den Kopf. "Wäre nicht passiert, wenn es nach mir ginge." Wieder ließ er es geschehen und konzentrierte sich stattdessen auf das Wesentliche. Er vermutete, dass er einen Schreibtisch reiten würde, etwas Langweiliges tun würde, wie z.B. Hintergrunduntersuchungen über potenzielle zivile Auftragnehmer, und fragte sie: "Welchen Auftrag dann?" Er hatte nicht gedacht, dass sie verbitterter aussehen könnte. "Du gehst zurück zur Black Box. Die Sondereinsatzkommandoabteilung bat Sie, zurückzukehren." Nach Hause. Er konnte ein breites Lächeln nicht davon abhalten, seine Lippen zu knittern. "Danke, Special Agent Oda." . ... wird fortgesetzt Knowing it was bound to go sideways, Gates went in anyway. Sometimes, stepping directly into a situation was the only way to salvage it. Beyond that, you had to be seen trying to protect your assets. If people learned your snitches could be hurt or killed with impunity, the price of information grew too great for a poor working man. He sighed and resisted the urge to check his weapons again. The sensor blister mounted in the elevator ceiling was probably recording. And if they’re smart, Tiger Kitty has someone watching through the nets, so why give away any hints what I’m here for? The tenement elevator creaked to a stop, door opening at a decrepit pace Gates found both annoying and symbolic of the general state of the planet and its vast populace of Civilians. Impatient, he turned sideways and slid into a hall marginally less dank and dark than most Civilian housing he’d been in during his near-fifty years working this kind of operation. Lenses adjusting quickly to the dimness, Gates picked out details he would have just as soon miss: the carcass of a rat in the far end of the hall, hard by the fire door, stimstick stubs and less identifiable things littering the rest of the hall, the vacant hall. No physical sentry? Not so smart, after all. It is late, but still, I thought Tiger Kitty smarter. Gates walked past the door, put his back to the wall beside it and pulled the local-built compromiser out. He hated relying on local, untested tech, but in this case the possibility of leaving an electronic signature that could lead investigators to suspect an off-planet connection was not acceptable. He needn’t have worried — the local locks proved less reliable than the compromiser, releasing their hold on the door in a few seconds. He put the compromiser back in his pocket and drew his sidearm. The cheap door groaned along its tracks as it opened. He stepped inside, gun in the lead and sweeping the corners for targets. Short entry hall, opening on the left for a kitchenette, another opening straight ahead. He checked the kitchen: tiny, full of stinks, smears and discarded food containers, no threats. Moving on, Gates entered the main living area. A female, snoring lightly, ass-up, on an air mattress laid out in the midst of what appeared to be an incongruously pricey entertainment system. The grinding whine of a poorly-maintained waste recycling unit announced the presence of the other inhabitant and identified the room off the living area as the bathroom. Gates crossed the floor in a few strides, put his back to the wall. The bathroom door popped open, his quarry shuffling out. Tiger Kitty had looked better in the booking vids. Shortly, he would look a lot worse. Gates kicked out, hard, into the back of his knee. Kitty went down, hard, head caroming off the entertainment console’s casing and activating the system. Sataball scores and standings scrolled through the air between them. Gates closed and snapped another kick into Kitty’s face as he rolled over. Tiger Kitty collapsed onto the mattress, waking the sleeper from her doped slumber. “Wha?“ Doper asked. “Angelique sends her regards,” Gates said, stepping forward and sending his boot into the woman’s groin. Doper wheezed, rolling into a ball in a belated attempt to protect herself. Kitty was trying to shake the stars from his eyes. Gates put a stop to that by pressing the barrel of his pistol to the man’s bloody forehead. “I have money.” “I bet you do. Unfortunately for you, this isn’t about money.” “I got dope.” Gates tapped Kitty’s forehead with the pistol’s aperture, “Again, not what this is about.” “What, then?” Kitty whined. “You beat a girl bloody the other night, you and your friend here,” Gates sent a lazy kick at Doper, sending the wind from her again, “tuned her up real good, all because she had the nerve to come looking to buy from you, money in hand, no less.” “She deserv–” Gates shut him up with the gun. When Kitty was tracking again, Gates returned to his narrative: “Now, leaving aside the bad business practice of beating up customers willing to pay for their dope with cash instead of–of, what was it, again?” Gates asked, knowing the answer. Kitty opened his mouth but Gates cut him off: “Oh, yes, you wanted her to get in bed with you and your friend here.” Kitty’s only answer was the closing of his bleeding mouth. “That particular girl, the one who resisted your advances? Her saying ‘no’ should have been enough for you, but it wasn’t. Now you have been made aware she has friends. Friends who would be terribly disappointed to learn she’d been harmed, refused service, or even spoken to with less than the utmost respect. Their disappointment will lead to another visit from me or someone like me. That visit will not be a polite conversation like this. In fact, very little would be said, beyond a bit of begging on your part, if the messenger was into listening to such before he blew your brains out the back of your head.” Gates smiled, “Am I understood?” Wiping his bloody mouth, Kitty nodded. “Tell me I won’t have to come back.” Kitty spat blood. “You won’t.” “Can I trust that you speak for your friend here, too?” He gestured with his free hand at where Doper was still curled up and wheezing. Another nod. Too easy, part of him whispered. “You wouldn’t happen to be telling me what I want to hear, would you?” Gates asked. Kitty shook his head, blood spattering the floor between them. “Somehow, I don’t believe you.” “Don’t know what I can say to that.” Kitty looked into Gates’ eyes. He read angry, sure, but there was a healthy dose of fear in there as well. Gates shrugged. “Fair enough, I suppose.” He gestured at Doper, “Might want to get your girl to a medstation.” When Kitty looked at his lover, Gates backed toward the door. “Remember what we’ve discussed,” he said from the doorway. Another nod. Gates made his exit, but didn’t go far. A moment later he heard a clatter from inside followed by the sound of bare feet on the floor. Stupid. Could have got off with a warning, kid. Kitty charged out, cheap pistol in hand and a snarl on split lips. Gates, kneeling just outside the door, put him down with two shots. Blood and bone spattered the lower third of the doorway, paired snaps of coherent light superheating cartilage and making a mess of the workings of the dealer’s knees. Kitty slammed into the floor, momentum sending him sliding across the hall to slap face-first into the apartment door on the other side. Shaking his head at the stupidity of man, Gates headed for the stairs. Doper’s screams started as the fire door snapped closed behind him. Gates barely spared her a thought as he mounted the stair. Kitty would survive if Doper would unlock from panic long enough to call emergency services. Gates exited the stair on the top floor, walking out onto street level. This far into the planet’s sixteen-hour night, the streets were just beginning to return to life. He hailed a passing pedicab and boarded. “Central Station,” he said. A few blocks from the station Gates reactivated his MobiGlas. The device immediately pinged with a number of alerts, including an incoming call from Agent In Charge Mitchi Oda. Suppressing a sigh, he opened the channel, “Gates.” The Advocacy Seal was replaced by Oda’s disapproving expression. “Where have you been, Agent Gates?” “Serving my suspension, remember?” “Your suspension ended last night.” Gates covered surprise with a shrug, and a drawled: “News to me.” “Wouldn’t be if you kept your MobiGlas on.” Gates let it pass. She’s not half my age, has barely a tenth my field experience, and, frankly, isn’t worth arguing with. “I assume you aren’t calling to congratulate me on my reinstatement, then?” he asked. “No,” she answered, lips twisting as if she found her next words distasteful: ”though I am required to formally lift your suspension for the record: Special Agent Arminius Gates, you are formally reinstated to your rank and privilege as Special Agent of the Advocacy.” “Thank you, Special Agent Oda.” She tossed her head. “Wouldn’t have happened, were it up to me.” Again he let it pass, focused instead on what was important. Suspecting he’d be riding a desk, doing something boring like background investigations on potential civilian contractors, he asked her, “What assignment, then?” He hadn’t thought she could look more bitter. “You’re going back to the Black Box: Special Action Division requested you return.” Home. He couldn’t keep a broad smile from creasing his lips. “Thank you, Special Agent Oda.” . . . to be continued Links ----- No links available. Images ------ 1 image/jpeg [ ![](https://robertsspaceindustries.com/media/n6ik8s2agc03ur/source/SeparateLawFI4.jpg) ](https://robertsspaceindustries.com/media/n6ik8s2agc03ur/source/SeparateLawFI4.jpg) SeparateLawFI4.jpg [Details](https://api.star-citizen.wiki/comm-links/images/640) Last Modified 12 years ago Size 1.49 MB [Source](https://robertsspaceindustries.com/media/n6ik8s2agc03ur/source/SeparateLawFI4.jpg) [Info](https://api.star-citizen.wiki/comm-links/images/640) Metadata -------- CIG ID 13137 Channel Undefined Category Undefined Series A Separate Law Comments 80 Published 12 years ago (2013-07-11T00:00:00+00:00) [RSI Article](https://robertsspaceindustries.com/comm-link/serialized-fiction/13137-A-SEPARATE-LAW-PART-ONE) [API](https://api.star-citizen.wiki/api/comm-links/13137)