Andrew Saxon: Finding keepers

“Why? What’s going on?”

Jake looked at them and said, “What’s wrong, officer?”

“You say this lady asked you to hold her table and split the winnings?”

“Yeah, but not exactly like that. She just said she felt like the game was going to win.”

“Well, you can keep your winnings but we are here to apprehend a psychic that has been using her power to take the casino’s money. You actually won all of it”

Cynthia looked frightened, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The three agents left with Cynthia in tow yelling her innocence.

The pit boss put his hand on Jake’s back and leaned close, “Please, don’t let this bother you. Let me have your Realm Card and I’ll transfer the funds.

Jake continued to look at the three agents dragging Cynthia into an office behind the machines as he handed his card to the pit boss, who scanned it with a machine.

“There, all done.”

“Thank you,” Jake said, and began moving slowly at first, then more quickly, toward the front entrance. If they were looking for a psychic then he needed to get far away as quickly as possible. The money was safe. Armand would transfer it, as soon as it arrived, to an account off-planet, from which he would then transfer it to an account that could not be traced. Armand was worth every credit he charged.

“Time to leave.” He made it out the entrance without being stopped, and started walking quickly toward the teleport terminal. As he approached, he had a sudden thought, “What if she’s psychic and doesn’t know it?” He stopped his forward rush and it dawned on him that if she did have any psychic ability, she was going to be blamed for all the casinos that had lost money. He looked at the floor while people stepped around him as they entered and came out of the teleport terminal; then he remembered.

He was nine years old and already a criminal. He lived on the streets of Gambia trying to survive in the capital’s huge ghetto. He remembered the filth and stench of sewers that ran into the streets, the smell of dead bodies of those that died each day which were picked up and burned, the rags he wore that were so thin it was impossible to keep warm during the cold nights, the vacant look of his parents as they died of starvation, and the ever present hunger. He would never forget the gnawing hunger that was a constant companion, and the trash that the wind blew constantly in the huge city.

Gambia was not a member of the Stars Realm because the ruling class did not want to give up their power. Thus, there was a huge difference in the upper and lower classes: there was no middle class. You were either rich or struggling to live. Jake’s parents had died from malnutrition when he was five and a family friend took him in. Niko and Gethy also had a ten year old son of their own, and Robbie became as close as a brother. Each of them became expert thieves and “borrowed” those things that were needed to help their family survive. It was a very dangerous thing indeed to be a criminal on Gambia, which had the most brutal justice system in the quadrant. There were no trials, no long term prisons, just justice swift and sure. Steal and you lose a hand. Run from a security agent and lose a foot whether or not you’re innocent or guilty. All it took was a merchant from the upper class to accuse you to suffer barbaric penalties. However, the choice was simple; steal or starve. Hunger is a brutal mistress, and starvation has a way of removing all fear of consequences.

Jake had a gift of being able to sneak into a room unnoticed. One day he had worked his way close to the desk of a powerful merchant. When the merchant left the room, he grabbed a small bag on the desktop. He immediately made a break for the door just as the merchant reentered, seeing his back as he exited the door. He yelled, “Stop that thief!” and ran out the door. As Jake left the room running, he saw Robby in the street wearing an identical tunic. He yelled, “Run!” and Robby hesitated, not knowing what was happening. Then he turned quickly to escape, but wasn’t fast enough. The merchant emerged and grabbed Robby by the hair, yanked him off his feet, and demanded his bag. A local security agent hurried over, took Robby from the fat merchant, and asked, “Is this the one you saw?”

“Yes, it’s him.”

The officer searched him and shook his head, “Nothing on him.”

“He probably tossed it to someone who escaped.”

The officer looked at Robby who was declaring his innocence at the top of his lungs. He then looked at the merchant, “Are you positive it was him?”

“Absolutely; I saw his tunic as he turned the corner.”

Jake hid behind a huge pile of garbage and listened to what was being said. His tunic and Robby’s were made from the same piece of cloth they had “borrowed” from a restaurant’s table a week earlier. “What are they going to do?”

The officer lifted his com and called in a security vehicle. A large security floater arrived, descended to the street, and Robby was taken inside. Jake was scared; he didn’t know what he could do. Then he heard a loud scream after the discharge of a blaster.

Jake dropped to his knees, “Oh no! What have I done?”

The rear door of the security vehicle flew open and Robby was tossed out into the street. He was howling in pain from having his left hand cut off and seared with a blaster bolt. Jake could do nothing. He watched as the merchant and officer looked around, waiting for someone to come to Robby’s aid. He knew his tunic would be recognized immediately.

Jake sprinted home and yelled for Niko to go and get Robby from the city square. He quickly explained what had happened as they ran out of the house. Jake stopped before they arrived and turned back toward home to wait for Niko to return. After what seemed like hours hiding on a side street, he finally saw Niko and two other men carrying Robby. He also noticed three security floaters high over head flowing, obviously watching to see if anyone else appeared. He went out into the crowd and traded his tunic with another young boy whose clothes were in even more tatters than his own. He ran through the milling crowds while dodging the blowing trash, and arrived home just before Niko arrived with Robby.

He stayed by Robby’s bed until Robby regained consciousness. He would occasionally look out and see a security floater high overhead, but it eventually disappeared after a day. There was nothing he could do to help Robby’s pain; drugs were only available for the rich. Robby faded in and out of consciousness for two days. Finally, he opened his eyes.

“Robby, I’m so sorry; it’s all my fault!”

Robby rolled over and winced. He looked at Jake with glassy eyes, “We know the risks we take, Jake. Even if you had come forward, we would have both lost a hand. What did you take from that fat pig to get him so excited?”

Jake opened the small black bag and took out two large gold coins and two single credit coins.

Robby’s eyes grew large, “Wow! There’s a year’s worth of food in each of those coins.”

Jake took one of the gold coins and handed it to Robby, “This one is yours. I’m so sorry.”

Robby took his remaining hand and placed it on Jake’s head, “It’s ok. It was bound to happen eventually. We’ve just been lucky so far. Thank you. I’ll use this for our family.”

Jake was bumped by someone passing and he came back to his senses. He took a step toward the silver screen but then stopped as the memory he tried so hard over the years to forget came crashing in on him. He felt dizzy and moved to sit down on the small wall outside the casino entrance.

It was two weeks after Robby lost his hand that disaster struck. Robby had taken his gold coin to a market and tried to purchase food and new clothes. The merchant pressed a button as Robby was collecting his purchases. A security agent came in and stunned him with a stunner. Ten minutes later the agent that had taken Robby’s hand arrived and confiscated the gold coin. He dragged Robby out the door and threw him on the ground outside the market in a flow of sewage. There in the middle of the street, he pulled his blaster and shot off both of Robby’s arms at the shoulder. He then loaded him on a floater and rolled him into the mud in front of his house and yelled, “This is what a thief gets! Learn from it!” The agent looked slowly around at the trembling crowd, kicked Robby in the ribs, breaking three of them, and left.