Truth. Justice. Minesweeper.

Tuesday, January 04, 2005

Ingrid and I crouched outside the door to the bedroom. We had been prepared to press our ears to the door, but it wasn't necessary. Misty was giving Fehnruller hell.

"Stop telling me everything's fine!" she said. "It ain't fine and you're not listening!"

"You don't know a goddamn thing about it," he told her. "It's business. How's about I handle the business and you get this frigging place cleaned up a little? What the hell do you think the slaves are for? Damn pigsty."

"I can't believe this shit," she said. "They're using us! You think Alterjio's your friend? Bullshit! He's setting you up to take the fall when the space cops bust your little ganja store!"

"Oh yeah? So why'd you come along on this trip, anyway?"

"That was before I knew how bad you'd screwed it up! God, you don't even speak alienish! How are you supposed to know when they're getting ready to shaft you?"

"You're full of shit anyway," he said. "Alterjio needs me. I've got experience with this shit. And the Cridegreen cops don't have a thing on us; we aren't doing anything illegal."

"He doesn't need anything now that you're set up. And what about that guy who's been poking around the store? The new guy with the thing on his ear."

It was at this point that Ingrid started punching me on the arm.

"That guy? He's like a stockboy or something Alterjio brought in. What's your problem with him?"

"He's a cop!" Ingrid whispered in my ear. I nodded and shoved her off my shoulder.

There was more yelling back and forth, but that was the important part. We skulked back to our cardboard boxes.

"I hope this guy speaks English," Ingrid said. "What's your plan for how we're going to get to him?"

"My plan?"

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