Roberts was relaxing in a hot tub when Gloria slid in.

“So where’s your little pet?” Gloria asked grinning.

“She’s changing into her new swimsuit,” Roberts said with a laugh, “She has been staring at the pool without a suit for days. I hooked her up.”

“So she’s your dress-up doll too?” Gloria chuckled.

“Hey,” Roberts laughed, “She just needed a swimsuit. That’s all.”

Gloria just rolled her eyes.

“As a reminder, we are the ones who are doing the playing. We aren’t here to get played… especially by some porkie slut.”

Roberts’ eyes flashed with annoyance.

“Ooo! Hit a nerve there?” Gloria laughed.

“Ugh… nevermind,” Roberts grumbled. “So, I take it you aren’t just here to show off your scrawny ass and to be a pain in mine?”

“Yeah,” Gloria said, “Our evening meetings need to be rescheduled. My little piggie’s shift ends in the afternoon and you...” she said looking at him disapprovingly, “have that little slice of bacon glued to your hip twenty-four/seven.”

“That little slice of bacon just happens to be an investigative reporter who has been on the ship for days. She has a lot of useful information.”

“Sure thing, killer,” Gloria snickered. “Whatever you say. Oh, while we have a minute, I got a letter from ‘Aunt Sheila’. Everything’s a go. They will be here in seven days.”

“That long?”

“She wants Morgan to go down on a Sunday.”

“Poetic. I like it,” Roberts said nodding in approval, “So for us, say a visual check in around noon on the promenade and anything important via encrypted e-mail? Jessie’s encryption is better than mil-spec and nothing will be happening till Sunday.”

“Works for me. Oh look, your fucktoy is here,” Gloria said with a smirk.

Helena was striding along the walkway leading to the pools feeling pretty damn sexy in her new bathing suit. It was a one-piece but it showed her off very nicely. She looked around and saw Roberts and that same flaxen slut who always seemed to be sniffing around alone in one of the hot tubs. She was leaning in far too closely for comfort.

“CANNONBALL!!!” she yelled as she ran up and jumped into the hot-tub being sure to douse that little tramp. She then planted a big wet kiss on Roberts wrapping her arms around him while looking at the flaxen bimbo triumphantly.

“Why hello there,” Gloria said pleasantly and then glanced at Roberts with a little smirk. “Oh, what happened to your eye?” she asked Helena as she made a big show of looking suspiciously at Roberts.

“Oh, I just fell into a door...” Helena said immediately realizing how that sounded, “...shit… No, seriously I got-”

“Well, I’d best be moving along,” Gloria said glaring very convincing daggers at Roberts as she got out of the hot tub. “Pig,” She spat at him as she walked off grinning as soon as her face was turned away from Helena.

“It wasn’t like that you flaxen SLUT!” Helena yelled as she stood up.

“Who cares what some flaxen bitch thinks anyway? Screw her.” Roberts laughed as he pulled her back into the hot tub.

“Grrrr...” Helena grumbled, “I don’t like her.”

“Why? You don’t even know her.”

“Maybe not, but I know trouble when I see it and that slut is trouble with a capital ‘T’.”

“Sure you aren’t jealous?” Roberts asked pinching her playfully.

“I’ll show you jealous!” Helena yelled as she started to splash and tickle Roberts in response.

“I give! I give!”

***

“Ok, Logan,” Sheila said holding a tablet, “I’ll transport squads one through six. You handle squads seven through eleven.”

“You got it, boss,” Logan said giving her bottom a pat. “So how do you know where the White Star is anyway? That’s something they don’t exactly throw out there.”

“We compromised Axion Lines awhile back,” Sheila said proudly, “All we had to do was log in and look.”

“Slick,” Logan replied. “How did you pull that off?”

“You’ve been asking a lot more questions than usual,” Sheila said looking at him curiously. “What’s up with that? You usually just want to know the bare minimum and now you are...”

“Actually trying to learn something?”

“Exactly, that’s not like you.”

“Well, maybe I’m tired of being a two-bit operator and want to make a real score,” Logan said.

“Ambition? You?” Sheila said laughing.

“Hey, I’m not going to be young and beautiful forever, baby-girl. I need to start thinking about the future.”

“Who are you and what did you do with Logan?” Sheila laughed. “Good to see you are actually thinking with the other head for once,” she smiled, “I guess I could allow you to enter the Sheila Donovan School of Business. So what do you want to know?”

“So how do you set up an operation like this anyway?”

“It involves something that you truly despise,” Sheila said with a chuckle, “A lot of boring good old fashioned hard work.”

“Ugh, I was afraid you would say something like that,” Logan laughed. “So, seriously, how do you do something like this?”

“I’m busy right now getting everything moving,” Sheila said while she looked at her tablet and frowned, “Tell you what. Tonight, before we do our thing, I will start to clue you in, let you know how we set this baby up.”

Sheila looked at him and grinned.

“It’s a lot of boring detail work, intelligence gathering, planning, budgeting, resource allocation, shit like that.”

“I can’t wait,” Logan said sarcastically, “But yeah, I want to know how you bring in the big bucks.”

“Ok,” Sheila said looking at him approvingly, “I guess even you have to grow up sometime. Alright. We get started tonight.”

“Great!” Logan said enthusiastically as he walked off.

Sheila took a moment to admire the view as he left.

***

On Terra, Toby knocked on Jon Wintersmith’s hospital door and entered.

“Hey, Toby,” Jon said, “Love that eye!”

“Yes,” Toby said flexing a metallic robotic eyestalk, “I’m quite pleased with it. Should have gotten one blown off sooner.”

“Upgrades?”

“Yes, sir, quite a few,” Toby said with a smile, “I had them pack as much in here as would fit.”

“That should come in handy. Does it have a plug in for your toy gun?”

“As much as I dislike to admit it, the Juon Harbinger is a superi-”

“You shut your whore mouth!” Jon laughed, waving his new metallic cybernetic arm emphatically.

“I see that you have taken to your new prosthetic, sir?”

“Yeah, It’s pretty nice,” Jon said flexing the gray polymer covered fingers, “I’ve had to switch to ol’ leftie for my fapping needs but other than that I like it.”

“Too much information, sir,” Toby laughed. “And how is the back?”

“Fortunately the spine is intact… mostly. I won’t need any cybernetics back there but the bone and tissue regrowth is going to take a few more weeks. That bitch shredded my ass pretty good but they say I’ll have a full recovery without implants.”

“Good news, sir,” Toby said with a sigh of relief. “You looked pretty bad when we scraped you off the street.” Toby paused. “I’ve come by to bid you farewell. I’m heading out today to return to my duties.”

“Are you sure you want to do that? I’ll only be a couple of weeks. We could return together.”

“One of us needs to return as soon as possible,” Toby replied, “I do not like the thought of Patricia Hu running around my embassy unsupervised.”

“Be careful, Toby,” Jon said, “That woman is dangerous.”

“All the more reason for me to return.”

“Watch your back. I will be there as soon as I can.”

***

“You’re a professional athlete,” Helena said to Roberts as they left a comedy show.

“Nope.”

“I know! Federation intelligence!”

“Hell no!” Roberts laughed.

Helena looked around and then leaned and whispered, “Terran intelligence?”

Roberts just laughed some more. “If I was intelligence of any sort would I be hanging around with one of the few people on this ship who could blow my cover?”

“Hmm...” Helena pondered, “Well I know you were military.”

“And just how do you know that?”

“Each time I mention it you stiffen up just a little bit. Not much, but it’s there.”

“Damn,” Roberts said concealing his concern, “You should play poker instead of writing a bogus advice column. Ok, you got me. I did serve in the military at one time.”

“Which branch?”

“You tell me.”

“Come on! Give me at least a little to work with here,” Helena said as she swatted him playfully.

“You’re the investigative reporter,” Roberts laughed, “You figure it out.”

Roberts paused in front of an art gallery, walked inside, and started to examine the merchandise. He paused in front of a small glass figurine, pulled out his notebook, and jotted down its location.

“And why do you do that?”

“Do what?” Roberts asked as he started to put away his notebook.

“You write it down when you see something that you like,” Helena said grabbing for the notebook.

Roberts quickly put it in his jacket before she could get to it.

“What’s up with that?” she asked.

“It's no big deal,” Roberts said, “I see something that I like and I write it down for later.”

“That’s not how rich people do it,” Helena said looking at him oddly, “They see it. They buy it.”

“That’s not how I do it.”

“Hmm...” Helena mused. She then looked at the figurine. “Holy shit!” she exclaimed. “They want that fucking much for a little glass duck?”

“It’s very very old and worth every bit of that,” Roberts replied.

“What the hell are you going to do with it?”

“If I manage to grab it I will give it to a friend. She has a collection of these.”

“A friend?” Helena asked trying to make it sound nonchalant. “Like a wife or girlfriend sort of friend?” she asked more than a little annoyed with herself. It mattered far too much to her for her comfort. You just met the guy, she reminded herself.

“No. Just a professional associate. She likes antique glass and I thought it would be a nice thought.”

“One hell of a nice thought...” Helena said halfway to herself. If I manage to grab it? What the hell does that mean? she thought to herself.

***

“God! I hate these porkie scum!” Helena grumbled over lunch and then glared at a couple who was staring at her in disapproval. “Got something to say?”

They looked away quickly and left shortly thereafter.

“Slow your roll, Che,” Roberts laughed. “You are on the porkie express here. You are going to get us into… And here it comes...” Roberts said as a man in a ship’s uniform appeared.

“Excuse me,” the man said looking at Helena with disapproval, “We have been receiving complaints concerning your behavior on this cruise.”

“Yeah, so? I’m a paying customer so bite me.”

“That may be the case but there are limits to what is considered-”

“We are terribly sorry,” Roberts said discretely slipping the man a one thousand credit poker chip, “We will be more careful in the future.”

“Oh! Well thank you,” the man said happily pocketing the chip, “Everyone has their opinions but please do take care not to upset the other passengers.”

With that he calmly walked away.

“Why did you do that?” Helena asked in annoyance.

“What?”

“Why did you pay that asshat off?”

“Because I would like to enjoy your company a bit longer,” Roberts said with a shrug, “That happened to be the head of ship’s security. He can toss your ass off this barge and he wasn’t dropping by to ask you nicely. He meant business so I conducted some. It’s amazing what a few credits can do for someone’s patience.”

“Ugh, spoken like true porkie scum.”

“Well it worked didn’t it?”

“Gah! It always works! That’s the fucking problem!” Helena fumed. “These assholes, the same ones that-”

“Shh!” Roberts laughed, “I can only throw so many poker chips before they stop working!”

“The same ones!” She hissed a bit more quietly. “The same fucking ones-”

She was cut short by a bread stick bouncing off of her head.

“I have a whole basket of these and am not afraid to use them,” Roberts laughed, “Yes, we’ve covered this before, more than once. It’s the same scum. No argument here.”

“Oh they think they are so fucking perfect,” she hissed glaring around the dining room, “The shit they get away with and nobody ever makes them pay for it. God! Do you know they have a whole fucking bank hidden on this ship? Nothing but numbered bank accounts. Creators know how much dirty money is hidden on this ship not to mention all of the shit that is hidden in safety deposit boxes… They say there is even a vault here holding all sorts of shit that was stolen from Earth back in the day.”

“That might not be the brightest idea,” Roberts said with a grin, “Those numbered bank accounts aren’t like normal accounts. In a normal account, the credits are stored in the whole system. In one of those fancy numbered accounts the actual credits are encoded directly into the drives. If something were to happen to this ship, or those drives, the credits would just… disappear. Those bank drives are just like loading a few credits onto a crystal or a card. Lose it and they are gone.”

“Ha, wouldn’t that be nice,” Helena said with a big smile on her face, “Oh the squeals of lamentation… I would fucking love that.”

Roberts just smiled at her. “Who knows, every now and then the hammer falls on the right people...”

“How can you say shit like that with a straight face?” she snarled, “Porkie scum gets away with the same shit every day, every year, every decade, every century and the same poor saps get screwed… figuratively if you are lucky. Did you know about the human trafficking taking place here?”

“No,” Roberts said raising an eyebrow.

“Well there is this lovely spot called ‘Bruce’s Emporium’ just off of this golden promenade where the sex workers aren’t exactly there of their own free will.”

“Well, that’s definitely some bad karma there,” Roberts said calmly. “Perhaps it will catch up with them one day.”

“Yeah, well I’m going to write up an article all about it when I get back but it won’t do a damn bit of good. I got no proof, no camera, nothing,” she grumbled, “Even my tinfoil hat wearing faithful won’t care. They will just laugh because the victims are Terran.”

“Terran?," Roberts asked icily.

“Yeah, it’s sort of their whole… thing… Some assholes go on this cruise just to go there,” Helena snarled and hit the table. “Even if I manage to break the story… which I won’t be able to… Most people would just laugh. Fuck, I would probably just wind up giving them free advertising.” She looked up at Roberts helplessly. “And this, this, is why there will never be peace. We aren’t human beings anymore. We are either Terran or Federation. I’m sick of it. We start a bullshit war because some porkie scumbags want their toys back. We knife the Republic in the back after they and the Empire stopped the Collective from killing all of us. The Republic gets pissed, and rightfully so. Then, they go on a tour of ‘porkie planets’ and blast us back to the stone age. I went back to my hometown and it’s gone, like I mean gone.” She looked up from her rant. “Sorry, you probably went through the same thing.”

“Yeah,” Roberts said as he cut into his steak, “When I came back everything was ash. There was nothing left. Hardly anyone survived. It was dumb luck I wasn’t there when we got hit.”

“Oh Jesus, you were in the military weren’t you?” Helena said as she reached out and took his hand. “Fuck. Here I was about to cry into my cheeseburger over how they burned the college library and you…” She looked at him with genuine sympathy and pain in her eyes.

“Eh,” Roberts said calmly, “It was war. People die in those, you know.”

He shrugged and drained his beer.

Helena looked at him helplessly. Shit, she thought. She really put her foot in it this time. Fuck.

“You are right though,” Roberts said quietly, “It is like we are two different species now and I think that’s how it’s going to be from here on out. Despite everything,” he continued, “If I were promised another Terran-Federation war I would drop my business, my wealth, and go right back in just for the chance to… Well I guess it doesn’t matter,” Roberts said with a faint snarl, “There isn’t going to be another war, not for a long time.”

“You… You would go back?”

“In a second. We would go out of business overnight.”

“We?”

Shit, Roberts thought to himself. “Um, yeah, a lot of people that I work with were also in the military… different branches and stuff. It’s why we work so well together,” He said as nonchalantly as he could. “I think almost all of us would go back into service, or at least try to, if we could have another shot at them.” He looked over at Helena sadly. “Hate, rage, grief… They are more powerful than a lot of people, myself included and will twist you up, ruining anything that was ever good about you. You can try to move on, tell yourself that what’s done is done but deep down… No. You don’t get to choose when it is ‘over’ no matter how badly you want to.”

“Well what does?” Helena asked, “What does choose when it’s ‘over’.”

“I’ll let you know when I find out.”

***

Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck… Helena looked at herself in the mirror as she shook her head. How could she have been so stupid? Fuck! Take a nice day, and just flush it down the toilet. Hell he probably won’t even want to talk to me anymore, she thought.

Lunch went downhill after her little foot in the mouth incident. Even a real, like from a moo-cow, cheeseburger tasted like shit and she didn’t know what to say, what to do. She wanted to scream. He was hurting so fucking bad and for the life of her she just didn’t know what to to do. She wanted to hug him, shake him, tell him that it was over and that he made it and that he was a still a good person but every single line she, the self-proclaimed queen of bullshit, could come up with was well… bullshit… so she ran. She mumbled something about needing to write on her story about human trafficking but it was pretty clear that she just bailed.

He didn’t really try to stop her either.

The best guy she has met in a long time, possibly ever, and she just split. I wonder how many times someone has done that to him? She asked herself. Maybe that’s why he didn’t say much, just looked at her with those damaged eyes. She was going to fix this. She marched towards the door but as soon as her hand touched the latch she just froze. What was she going to say? Maybe give it a few hours, she thought to herself. Maybe we’ll meet for dinner and it we will be back to throwing bread sticks and bribing the cops…

Yeah, right…

She pulled out her battered laptop and opened up her notes on Bruce’s Emporium and just looked at them hopelessly.

Then she blinked and looked off into space for a little bit. Trafficking of Terrans wouldn’t mean anything without context. Her thoughts drifted towards Roberts as she sat there looking off into space, her mind drifting. How many veterans of the Terran War did she interview completely missing the point? She like just about every other word-slinger out there wrote countless articles about the “horrors” of the war and gave lip-service to the servicemembers of the Federation’s military human or otherwise (mostly human) but it was never more than just so much drum-beating and confetti-throwing.

It didn’t mean shit. It completely missed the point.

She couldn’t fix a goddamn thing but by God she could report it.

She opened a new document with a one word heading.

Hate

She started to type.

***

Roberts was leaning against the railing staring at one of the fountains. Real smooth, he thought to himself, scare off someone actually worth a fuck and damn near give away the whole operation…

I’m a fucking idiot. Probably for the best, He thought to himself. She was wonderful, damn near perfect, but then what? A few more days of being happier than he had been in a long time then… Surprise! I’m a Terran monster! Watch as we murder a whole shitload of porkies just like you! Hey, after I’m finished with the slaughter how about we go smash in some jewelry cases and raid the fridge?

Idiot.

“Trouble in paradise, killer?” Gloria said as she leaned against the railing next to him.

“Nothing I can’t handle.”

“You sure about that?” Gloria asked looking him in the eyes. “I wasn’t going to say anything but I don’t like what I’m seeing. You ok? Your head screwed on right? We can’t fuck this one up. We won’t even have a chance to warn them if we do. We fuck up and everyone goes down.”

“I think you are the last person to talk to me about professionalism.”

“Exactly what is that supposed to mean,” Gloria asked with a cold gleam in her eyes.

“Nothing… Sorry… You are right. I’m just in a piss-poor mood.”

“Well unpiss-poor your ass, killer. This isn’t like you. Come on, what’s wrong? Seriously, you can tell me and if you say ‘nothing’ I’m going to throw you over the railing.”

“Just sick of the waiting. I want this one done already.”

“You, sick of abusing the expense account? You feeling ok? Want me to ‘take your temperature’?” Gloria said as she elbowed him, “You do, don’t you? A little prostate exam maybe? Eh? Eh?” She laughed as she elbowed him repeatedly.

Roberts started to snicker.

“Keep your grease covered hands to yourself,” He laughed as Gloria gave him a quick shake.

“Look, my little piggie gets off work in just a little bit but if you are in trouble...”

“No… no,” Roberts said firmly, “I’ll survive. Do what you gotta do. I’ll be fine. We have a mission. I’ll just be a lot happier once the bullets start flying… for once. I kill a few porkies and everything will be back to normal.”

“Good,” Gloria said the concern not entirely gone from her voice. “That’s what I like to hear. Listen, these inside jobs can get a little weird sometimes. Just… just don’t do anything stupid, ok?”

“I won’t. You guys and the mission come first, as always. A fifth of bourbon and one of these high dollar escorts and I’ll be right as rain...” Roberts said with a grim smile. “Oh, speaking of ‘escorts’… My little... fucktoy…” he said unsuccessfully trying to convince himself that it was all that Helena was to him, “came across with some very interesting information. Sounds like ‘one of your jobs’ will be called for.”

“Oh?” Gloria asked with a vicious curl of her lips, “Do tell...”

As they casually chatted an elderly woman, the same one who gave Helena that high-five, idly watched them from a cafe’ across the promenade.

“Hmm...” She said to herself, “This looks interesting...”

***

Helena was on fire. She was writing, finally really writing! She was writing something real, something besides barely substantiated ‘conspiracy theories’ and rants about ‘porkie scum’, something besides make believe dating advice.

It felt good, really good. It was like she was back, finally back and she never even knew that she had left. It was still a rough draft and some research needed to added here and there but what she had on the page was something good, something real.

And perhaps even more importantly, it was something that she could show to Roberts… to Paul… She could show him that she understood. Maybe, just maybe her writing could communicate what her clumsy stammering spoken words failed to do.

Some of it was about him after all, a lot of it was actually. She couldn’t wait to show it to him over dinner. She looked at the clock.

“Fuck,” She said to herself. It was after midnight. She smiled. It had been quite awhile since she did that, lost track of time.

Maybe he is still awake, she thought eagerly, Fuck it. I’ll just wake him up.

She grabbed her laptop, jumped up, and ran to the door.

***

“So I’m just going to sit here and look pretty, then?” a redhead said as she lounged on Robert’s bed.

“I paid for the night, no sense in rushing,” Roberts said as he poured both of them drinks. “Besides, I heard a nasty rumor that not all of the escorts here are um… consensual.”

“You are talking about that fucker Bruce,” the escort said with a sour expression, “Yeah, real piece of work there. A lot of us would love to put a blaster bolt through him.”

“So why don’t you?”

“Oh, I don’t know… something about an airlock, maybe,” the escort said and then smiled, “However, I can assure you that I am fully independent.”

“Good to know. I’ll let you know if I change my mind,” Roberts said as he brought her a drink.

“So...” The escort said a little confused, “If you aren’t planning on ‘utilizing my services’ then why, exactly am I here?”

“Well...”

Roberts was interrupted by loud rapid knocking on his door. “One moment,” he said as he answered it.

“Sorry I was gone for so long I was-” Helena trailed off into silence when she realized he wasn’t alone. “Shit… Sorry… I...” she stammered.

“Yes?” Roberts asked with a polite smile, managing to keep his cool.

“Idiot… I’m such a fucking idiot...” Helena stammered as she ran off. Roberts shut the door then leaned his back against it and closed his eyes.

“Oh, I see,” the escort said as she looked at his face. “Classy.”

“I did her a favor,” Roberts said as he downed his drink.

He turned to the escort.

“So, fully independent, huh?”

***

Back on Saralan-2 Sheila stepped up to a podium and spoke into a microphone.

“Alright, assorted lifeforms, we are now at the point of no-return. If anyone suddenly feels the need for that ten-thousand credit vacation, now is the time.” she paused for a moment and then smiled. “Great! Good to see that greed has clouded your common sense!”

Laughter and clicking filled the hall.

“Load up your shit! Double-check your gear! And most importantly, everybody go now because once we are in the car we aren’t stopping!”

There was more laughter. Once the z’uush were filled in on the joke clicking and buzzing ensued.

“Ok, everyone!” Sheila shouted. “Let’s go to the White Star!”