Dekker's Dozen: The Last Watchmen

Flammable Kittens and Conspiracy Theories

"Did you and Dekker patch things up? Ya' know, start fresh?"

Vesuvius frowned and sighed. "We didn't get to have an actual conversation about it. He's been too busy. He has to practically prostitute himself to employers," she mock-glared at him, "and all because of you."

"Hey," he threw up his hands. "It wasn't my fault! Oh, wait a minute, yes it was. But what was I supposed to do?"

Most of the Dozen's finances fell by eminent domain after the fines levied by the Mother Earth Aggregate. They'd been lucky to retain their licensure.

"You should have let those people die," said Vesuvius. "We could have killed that thing later; it would have caused at least as much destruction on its own, but then we wouldn't have been liable for the damages."

"I guess I just have a soft spot for kids." Guy continued, "It's just stupid politics is what it is. I had a choice: destroy a treasured landmark to kill the giant, rampaging plant-monster, or let said monster destroy an orphanage and devour the children," said Guy. "But hey... we still have our corporate Investigator's License."

"Yeah. Barely."

"I still don't know why there was never an official inquiry into those Krenzin who 'accidentally' brought the seeds for that thing planet-side, anyway. I guess they had some kind of diplomatic clearance, but still. We never got a word about it; normal plants, even normal alien plants, don't act like that. The MEA's covering something up."

"Right," Vesuvius said sarcastically. "It's all a big conspiracy."

Guy rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Don't believe me, but one day you'll see... you'll all see!" he said with an intentionally crazy voice. "And stop busting my chops about that whole getting sued thing. Even Dekker doesn't give me crap over it anymore... well, not often."

"That's 'cuz he likes kids," said Vesuvius flatly. Her tone of voice killed the conversation.

That had been the wedge that drove her and Dekker apart a year ago. Dekker wanted children, Vesuvius didn't.

She'd faced down scythian worms, dueled with assassins, and faced death countless times. Ironically, parenting scared her more than anything else. It came naturally to ordinary folks and yet it paralyzed her with fear.

They rode the rest of the distance in silence.

Inside the customs center, Vesuvius and Guy presented their identification and passed a security check. They followed an uptight intern with a weasely face into an office run by a clearly relaxed official. Weasel-man flipped through his files and called for a worker to retrieve a package from storage.

"I am sorry, Ms. Briggs. It seems that your organization was supposed to receive this package a week ago, sensors flagged it. As you know, all weapons must be shipped through private courier services; MEA sponsored shipping lines cannot transport armaments. We only kept it because of... your relationship with my boss."

She nodded and glanced at the laid-back manager who clearly didn't understand his job. The Dozen had helped him relocate and secure a cover-identity years prior when he'd been in great danger from an Ahzoolien crime syndicate.

The intern handed her a clipboard with a standard release form on it while a young man brought in a rectangular, wooden crate and then promptly exited. "After examining the package, I was able to find you a loophole so that it wouldn't be returned, which is good since we have no return address. We designated it as a work of art; sign here."

Vesuvius scribbled on the paper and then opened the crate. Her face fell as she removed the pair of elegant weapons. With a pained look, she showed them to Guy; he didn't understand.