Traders Wild - Chapter 3
It wasn’t a restful night. I spent most of it staring at the ceiling as my brain played out all the nasty ways this could end, and trust me, there were plenty of options.
When Sam knocked on my door, it was pretty obvious that he’d had just as bad a night. We made a great pair of detectives - bleary eyed and yawning, chugging caffeine for dear life.
He’d called a taxi already, and after grunting some sort of a good morning to each other, we were off to start working through our list of possible suspects. We’d gotten lucky on this one though, because the first black-market dealer on our list happened to sell out of one of the more disreputable sections of Garrula, using the tourist trade to hide his own under-the-table dealings. Not having to jump planets quite yet would save us time in the long run, and besides, I wanted a chance to make sure certain items were out of sight before letting a Coalition agent (even one that I actually trusted) anywhere near my ship.
The cabby dropped us off a few blocks from the address we had for the dealer - the streets back here weren’t exactly designed for anything wider than a moto-scooter - and I took a minute to glance over at Sam.
“Missing your suit and tie?”
He shot a wry grin my direction.
“Just a little. You get used to wearing it, you know?”
A quick smile flitted across my face, because I was pretty sure I’d always feel strangled in a tie, but then again, he’d been doing this for years.
“Whatever you say. Just remember - back there you’re not an agent, and you follow my lead. You’re just there to listen in on this guy’s thoughts and make sure he’s telling the truth. Let me do all the talking.”
He nodded, and I could see him actively try to get into his part - slouching a little, and running his fingers through his hair a few times to muss it up a bit. And I was suddenly really grateful Sam had turned out to be a decent guy, because most of the Coalition agents I’d run into over the years wouldn’t have been able to tone down the authoritative, better-than-you shit to save their lives.
But Sam wasn’t like that - it was pretty clear that he actually cared about helping people, even if he occasionally did come across a little pompous. In some ways, he really was a better person than I was… Yeah, not going there.
The alleyway we were headed down was definitely not on the list of spots for tourists to visit. Cracked pavement, pock-marked brick walls, the smell of something (or several somethings) rotting nearby - not appealing in the least. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Sam wrinkling his nose at the smell, and picking his way carefully around a puddle of some unidentifiable substance on the ground.
And then I’m not sure what happened. One minute I was trying to put together a plan for how best to pump the dealer for info, and the next I was reeling sideways, no longer able to see the alleyway. For a second, I was a kid again, running down the corridors of a Trader ship, laughing, turning back to someone behind me, to my brother, calling out.
“Come on, Sammy - try and catch me!”
The memory, if that’s what it was, disappeared in a flash of light, and then I was back in the alley, head pounding and heart racing, slumped against a grimy wall. And Sam was right there next to me, looking about as shell-shocked as I felt.
“Dean… What the hell was that?!?”
I shook my head, not quite able to speak yet. It was a memory, I was sure of that now, but it made no sense. The other little kid I’d seen - that was my brother. But I didn’t have a brother, had never had a brother, so why was I remembering someone who’d never existed? It felt so real, though, more real than all my other memories of childhood, more vivid than everything else I remembered before age twenty. And I had no idea what that meant.
“Dean - look at me. You okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, Sammy, it was nothing, quit bugging me.”
Shit. I’d called him Sammy again. I didn’t think he’d noticed though - he was too busy staring at me with a mixture of worry and confusion.
“You’re not, though.”
He’d lost me.
“Huh?”
“Not fine. And don’t try to lie - it won’t work.”
I was still trying to wrap my head around what had just happened, so it took me a second to process what he’d said, but when I got to the obvious conclusion, I was pissed.
“You promised you’d stay out of my head! That was the deal! You can’t just go looking whenever…”
“Dean. I didn’t. I swear. I’m not in your head. But what you just saw… I saw it too. It was like you were screaming it at me, so loudly that I couldn’t block it out. So whatever that was, it wasn’t nothing.”
He still looked really worried, and more than a little freaked out, and I suddenly realized that this was probably just as weird for him as it was for me. I guess I really wasn’t helping things any by yelling at him for something he couldn’t help.
“Oh. Um.”
Master of vocabulary - that’s me. But Sam did relax a little, and I made a quick effort to put together a coherent sentence.
“Not sure what that was. It’s never happened before, and with any luck, it won’t happen again. And I’m sorry for flipping out at you. It’s just…”
I stopped there, not sure what else to say.
“It’s fine. You thought I’d gone back on my word. I get that.”
With a quick smile, he dropped the subject, and moved away down the alley, tossing one last reassurance over his shoulder as he went.
“You can trust me, Dean. Always.”
Oddly enough, I was sure he really meant that. And even more strangely, I did trust him. Which was why I’d gotten so angry just a moment ago, because he really did have my trust, whether I liked it or not.
Now wasn’t the time or place to dwell on that, though, so I shook it off and followed him, focusing back on the case and what I knew about the dealer we were meeting.
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Unfortunately, this particular dealer had no useful information about the poison - apparently, it had been years since he’d dealt in that particular brand of death. So we were right back where we’d been that morning, the only difference being we were down to twenty-five names rather than twenty-six. At this rate, a war between Gordon Trade and the ISC would flare up and be over with before we had any answers. And to top it all off, I had unidentifiable substances from the alley wall smeared on my favorite jacket.
Sam chuckled softly.
“I think the jacket’s the least of your worries…”
He was in my head again. This had to stop.
“I can’t help it, Dean. Whatever happened back there, it’s like there’s a connection between us now. And it’s not like anything I’ve ever experienced. I can’t turn it off, Dean… I’m really sorry but I can’t…”
I stopped.
“So you’re telling me that you’re hearing every single one of my thoughts now, and there’s nothing you can do about it?”
He gave me a slight nod, and was about to say something when another one of those memory barrages sent me staggering.
This time was different - the fear flooding through me was intense, and I was screaming, fighting the arms holding me, struggling with all my might to hold onto someone… to hang onto Sammy. But they had him, soldiers in Coalition uniform, so much bigger and stronger than me, ripping him away, tearing his hand from my grasp, taking him from me as he screamed my name. And I was crying, screaming for him, kicking at the men keeping me from my brother…
“Sammy! Sammy! No!....”
The memory faded into blackness, and I was back in the present, on my knees on the pavement, tears streaming down my face. And Sam was there in front of me, crouched down, his hand gripping my shoulder.
“Dean…”
With an effort, I slowed my breathing and stemmed my tears, reaching up a shaking hand to wipe them from my cheeks. Sam waited patiently until I had my emotions back under control, then continued.
“Dean, I need to know - are these your memories?”
That was not at all what I had expected to be asked. And ten minutes ago, I would have said that I wasn’t sure, but now, there was no question in my mind.
“Yes. I don’t know how they could be, but they are.”
He sat back on his heels then, looking visibly shaken.
“What’s up?”
“The kid you keep seeing… your little brother… Sammy… I think he might be me.”
Well, I certainly wasn’t expecting that.
When my brain refused to come up with anything coherent to say for several long seconds, he went on.
“That last memory - at first, I saw it through your eyes, felt what you felt. But then… then, I was the little boy the soldiers took, and I could hear your screams, see your tears, and I wanted nothing more than to run to you. It was the most intense and most real thing I’ve ever felt, even though I’ve never remembered it before now.”
His earnest words finally broke through my shock, and although it was hard to believe, it was also hard to deny, now it was happening to both of us. But even though it was clear that there was a long conversation here that we needed to have, involving a lot of “how” and “why” and “what the hell?”, we also needed to get out of this sketchy part of town before some unsavory character decided we looked like good targets for a robbery. So, leaning heavily on Sam, I managed to climb to my feet, mumbling something about talking about this back at the motel. He seemed to see the wisdom in that decision, because he didn’t say anything more, just flagged down a passing cab and gave the driver the address.
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Chapter 4