Rettic’s Log: The Sickness, Part 4
Rettic entered a small office, its downward facing windows granting a hazed view of the raucous bar. A Seibestor man sat at a desk, leaning back in a leather chair. Quite a costly item, being skinned of land-born game, noted Rettic, but by far the only article of worth in the room. This man’s attempt to project an air of status deceived him.
The escorting guards gathered behind the desk on either side of the Seibestor.
“You’re breaking a lot of rules here, Ekko,” Rettic said as he sat in the chair across from the man. “Can I still call you Ekko? Or, while we’re dismissing anonymity, do you want to tell me your real name too?”
The man immediately pulled out a handgun and pointed it directly at Rettic’s head.
“Woah, watch it!” Rettic slid back in his chair, the legs screeching on the metal floor. The bodyguards shifted their weight as if preparing to pounce on cue. “I ain’t breaking the rules here. And I’m the one gladly paying here so there’s no need to rob me. I just need my answers…”
“You fucking with me, sonny?” said Ekko in a raspy, thick accent.
Rettic stared back in a thorough state of confusion. “Ah, no. I’m going to go out on a limb here and say you’re the one fucking with me.”
“Shut… your mouth.” Ekko sat forward and spoke quietly. “Listen to me, boyo, I run a serious business here. It comes with risks, and when it comes to searching for things, namely people, we like to complete the job. Completing jobs ties up loose ends,” Ekko mockingly gestured with his fingers. “Incomplete jobs leave dust…debris…that could lead back to us. You get me?”
Rettic stayed motionless, returning the stare with equal intensity.
“So you pay me to find someone, but with some serious lookin’, all we come to find is that there ain’t no one to find. Rules was broken when you gave us a shit job. So, again, I’ma ask you. Are you fucking with me?”
Rettic’s head began to stir. Anger was boiling over in him. The feelings of the sickness climbed up his spine—the engines of disorientation fueled by rage. He closed his eyes and spoke clearly, “So you didn’t…finish…the job.”
“What I’m saying, boyo, was that there wan’t…no…job…to finish,” Ekko coughed.
Rettic jumped forward and grabbed the man’s gun, nearly breaking his wrists as he turned and shoved it under his chin before the guards had a moment to react. Ekko breathed through his teeth and he smelled the ion smoke seeping from the gun barrel. He calmly motioned his hands for the guards to stand down.
Rettic continued to speak slowly, with deliberation. “I pay you millions upon millions of kredits to simply locate my sister in any reach of known-space, and you point a gun at my head because you couldn’t finish the fucking job.” He cocked the gun. “Where is my sister?”
Ekko began to smile as realization came over him. “So, you really weren’t fucking with me huh?” He raised his eyebrows toward the two guards before returning his gaze. “You really don’t know, do you? The fuck is wrong with you?”
Rettic looked back and forth to the other men, who began to laugh under their breath. His stomach began to churn. Why is the sickness returning? It hasn’t been long enough. This clone isn’t a day old.
“…You don’t look to good neither, sonny. I’m thinkin’ it’s been a while since you got your stabilization meds? Your clone ain’t treating you too right is it?” He continued to laugh as Rettic’s loosening grip eased the gun from his neck.
“What don’t I know?” Rettic said, feigning disbelief. He already knew. He knew all along. In some depth of his consciousness, he knew all along. This was the root of his crashing mind-state. This was his sickness—the descent of time as the universe bends around him.
“Your sister…” The Locator stared at Rettic with a slight air of sympathy, as one would look at a lost child. “…she’s been dead for over fourty years, brother.”
Black.
Rettic’s Log are the accounts of Rettic in-character, his history, and the story of my experiences in New Eden as seen through his eyes. Read all of them here.
