A Serious Man
Posted on Wed Apr 12th, 2017 @ 6:03am by Commander Jordan Gunning
Mission:
Lie Of Omission
Location: Peluu, Archa IV
[Pre-warning: contains a sweary word]
The kid Whitlam was good but it was shoe leather that was going to solve this case. Gunning had returned to Archa IV after Lazlo had enjoyed a solid twenty minutes of chewing him out and calling him every name under the sun, in a variety of different languages too, and found himself walking through the same square where he had run into Shara Ir a couple of days before.
The science officer had been able to tell him that he was looking for an Archan male with grey eyes and black hair. If it wasn't for hair dye and contact lenses he could probably have called it day after going through the phone book and looking for someone on the list who matched the description.
As it was he would have to find Kal Eck, the name underlined on the paper. He knew he was a nightclub owner from Peluu - that was about it. Still, boots on the ground approach. If he went to his own clubs he'd have to go home at some point. He shuddered at the thought momentarily. Unless he never went home and Jordan would be following him around until time immemorial.
Someone stumbled out of a bar a few yards in front of Jordan and screamed something about not even liking it anyway. It was getting to that time of the evening - the change from the tourist bars with their affectations of earth and their colourful drinks with an alcohol content that would knock the boots off a Klingon (and often did), to the nightclubs of Peluu which seemed to rise like monoliths into the night sky as the balmy evenings went on.
The drunk shouted again. "Hey buddy! Hey! You!"
Gunning knew he was being shouted at but kept walking regardless. "You know anywhere good to get a drink around here?!"
He stopped, sighed and looked around at the dozens of neon signs which could be easily reached by an enthusiastic lunge. "That one." He replied, pointing at nothing in particular. "They do a Carvallan Moonrise that'll knock you out."
"Th-thanks!" The drunk replied. There was no such drink as a Carvallan Moonrise.
Walking further down the road, Gunning stopped beside a doorman. "Billy." He nodded to the giant creature whose shoulders were more than double the width of Gunning's. Billy - a name he'd picked for reasons unknown to Gunning - had been a guard for a Federation facility on Manuar II when Gunning had met him and had helped smooth the way for his move to Archa IV. Billy owed Gunning a few favours.
"What do you want?" He may have owed him favours but he was no conversationalist.
"Need a wee favour from you Billy boy." Gunning began. "Looking for one of Kal Eck's nightclubs - preferably the one he spends the most time in." Billy knew things. Doormen heard things, either from their colleagues or from drunk idiots trying to impress them enough to get through the hallowed doors of the club.
"Kal Eck's a serious guy, Gunning." Billy growled in a low, guttural voice that was part-purr, part-roar. "He won't like you sticking your nose in his business, you get me?" This was what passed for friendly advice in Billy's book.
"I'm just looking for somewhere to get a really good Carvallan Moonrise, Billy."
"Fuck off, Gunning." Billy's massive arm swept out in front of him as though he was about to smash Gunning into the wall but instead the giant alien took a large handkerchief from his pocket. It was the size of a hand towel. He coughed into it and then used the other side to wipe a forehead you could have projected a film on. "He'll probably be at The Bakery. It's down on the main promenade."
Stupid name for a club. "The Bakery. Thanks Billy."
Jordan Gunning
Private Investigator
