Sex: Yes, by popular demand, there will be sex between two women in this story.  It will be a little graphic, but don't expect a porn story here.

Violence: Yup. It's an integral part of the story, sorry.  I don't plan to make it too graphic, but there are a few scenes of torture and gunplay.

Language: Shit, yeah.  It's part of the characters' personalities.

Thanks: Many thanks to my bud Xenalicious for introducing me to the wonderful world of fan fiction.  Without her prodding I might never have sat down to write this little tale. When you're done with this story, jet over to her page and check out her fiction. Also, thanks to Redxena, my excellent beta reader. Her input is most welcome.

I'd also like to thank the following bards, whose fiction inspires and awes me: T Novan, Tonya Muir, XWPFanatic, Nene Adams, Frost, Sword N' Quill,  BL Miller, and of course Missy Good.

Comments: I love to get email.  Feedback on my story would be most appreciated.  Nasty comments will be sent to that great electronic wastebasket in the sky.   EMAIL ME!

Chapter 3

When Quinn said the seats were good, she wasn’t kidding.  Riley managed to pick her jaw off the ground long enough to murmur, “Good God, look at these seats.  Front row, center court.  I can’t believe it.”  She looked questioningly at her companion.  “Quinn, how in God’s name did you get these tickets?”

Her only response was a sly grin and a casual, “Oh, I have many skills.  Ticket acquiring is just one of them.”

Yeah, I’d love to find out about some of those other talents, Riley thought with a faint smile.  She slid into the seat next to Quinn, who was already busy summoning over the snack vendor.  She accepted the offered beverage with a smile and sat back to watch the game.  Soon, the lights dimmed in the arena, and loud music blared from the speaker.  A multitude of colored spotlights began dancing about the court, as the two opposing teams charged out to the roar of the crowd.

The game turned out to be a fierce match.  Both teams played hard, zipping around the court with fast, furious movements.  The little silver game ball flew back and forth so quickly that it was sometimes hard to keep track of.  The crowd was practically in a frenzy, caught up in the intensity of the game.

Quinn watched the action, detached from the emotion around her.  Her sharp eyes followed the game, as she mentally assessed which plays were good and which were not.  She remained silent though, clapping occasionally when a good play was made.  Much to her amusement, her little companion had no such reservations about voicing her opinions.  Riley had spent a majority of the game practically jumping out of her seat.

“Learn to block, number 47!” Riley bellowed.  She dropped back into her seat, muttering, “Goddamn players can’t even freaking block a simple cross shot…”  At Quinn’s chuckle she turned and grinned weakly.  “Sorry.  I just get a little…caught up in the games sometimes.”

“Good,” Quinn replied, smiling affectionately.  “I’d hate to think I’d wasted these tickets on someone who didn’t appreciate the game.”

“Let me reassure you, those tickets were definitely not wasted on me,” Riley said, before she was quickly swept up by the game again.  “Woo hoo!  Run with it, 54!  Wow, did you see that shot?”

Quinn settled back in her seat, content to bask in the energy of the woman next to her.  She could practically feel it surging between them when their arms brushed accidentally on the armrest between them.  It was exhilarating – and more than a little frightening – experiencing such a feeling.  It was certainly something she had not felt for quite some time.  Finally the game ended, and the players began emptying the court.  Riley turned then and looked at Quinn, her face flush with excitement and her green eyes sparkling with unrestrained joy.  It was a sight that almost took the taller woman’s breath away.

“You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”  The thought slipped out before Quinn could stop herself.

Riley blushed furiously.  “Liar.  I know you’ve looked in a mirror at least once in your life.”  This is the part where someone is supposed to pinch me.

One dark eyebrow shot up and Quinn’s lips quirked into a slight smile.  They stood like that for what felt like forever.  The tension in the air thickened, until Riley thought she couldn’t take it anymore.  Suddenly the moment was promptly shattered by the deep voice next to them.

“Hey, Quinn!  How’re you doing?”  They both turned to face the speaker and, for the second time in one night, Riley found herself picking her jaw off the ground.  The man was huge – he would’ve dwarfed even Gabe.  His brown hair was chopped neatly into a crew cut and he had a rugged face.  Riley would’ve recognized that crooked nose – the result of one too many body checks into the boards – and strong features anywhere.

“Whoa.  Chris Wilson,” she murmured, almost reverently.  Okay, I was wrong…this is the place where someone is supposed to pinch me.  She stared at the large team captain of the Spartans, not bothering to hide her look of awe.

Quinn grinned at her friend’s expression.  “Chris, this is Riley.”

He reached out one hand and engulfed Riley’s in a friendly shake.  “Nice to meet you,” he rumbled.  “Did you guys like the game?”

Riley found her voice somehow.  “Oh yeah,” she gushed.  “That spinning power shot you took in the second quarter was just awesome.  You totally caught their right flanker off-guard.”

Chris shrugged, looking almost shy.  “Aw, that was no big deal.  I just got lucky.”

“No, really, that wedge-and-2 play was sheer brilliance!”  Riley exclaimed.  “You blew their pressure defense out of the water.”

“Hey, thanks,” Chris said, breaking into a broad grin.  “Wow, you really know your arenaball.”  He turned to Quinn, “Anytime this little lady wants to put up with your company to go a game, just give me a call and I’ll gladly hook you up with tickets again.”

“Careful, Chris, I might just take you up on that offer” Quinn replied.  She saw the smile bloom even larger on Riley’s face, and she mentally thanked the arenaball player.  She remembered something, and asked, “Hey, have you been working on that spin I showed you?”

“You’ve been giving arenaball advice to Chris Wilson?” Riley asked her comrade, confused.

 “Quinn playing arenaball?” He laughed.  “That’d be a sight.  Nah, she’s talking about shuttle flying.  That’s how we met, you know.  I tried to out fly her in the Box a few months ago.  After she ran my shuttle into the ground, she was kind enough to at least give me a ride back to the city.”

“She crashed your shuttle?” Riley eyed Quinn with surprise.

“Ah, I was asking for it,” he admitted humbly.  “I was being reckless and probably would’ve hurt someone the way I was flying.  Crashing was the best thing for me.  Anyway, since then she’s been giving me some pointers on how to be a better pilot.  And yes, oh grand master poobah supreme of shuttle flying, I have been working on the spin.”  Chris bowed floppily to Quinn.

“Ha, you wish you were half the pilot I am,” Quinn retorted, giving him a playful punch to the shoulder.

“You’re damn right I do,” he replied.  He turned to Riley, jerking one thumb in Quinn’s direction.  “She’s the best pilot I’ve ever seen.  She could probably fly the Gauntlet with one hand tied behind her back.”  A loud group of players yelled from across the court, attracting Chris’s attention.  “Look, I’ve gotta run.  The boys are waiting for me.  It was really nice meeting you, Riley.”

“Me too,” she replied, shaking his hand.

“You guys should come to another game,” he said.  “Anytime, just give me a call, I’ll hook you up.  Talk to you later.”  He loped off across the court, waving over his shoulder.

Riley stood there in stunned silence, watching his retreating figure.  Finally she turned to Quinn with a bemused smile.  “You are incredible.  I can’t believe you know Chris Wilson.”

Quinn winked.  “I have many secrets, my dear.”  She took Riley’s hand and pulled her towards the exit.  “Come on, there are two barstools downtown just calling our names right now.”

Riley complied, still a little dazed from her larger than life encounter.  They were almost to Quinn’s car when she said, “I got a little lost there with all that shuttle pilot talk.  What the hell was all that about the Box and the Gauntlet?”

Quinn opened the passenger door for Riley and then slid into the driver’s seat.  “Well,” she said, starting up the engine, “the Box is the nickname for the practice area outside of the city.  People go out there to do acrobatics and act like idiots in their shuttles.”

“You included?” Riley asked slyly.

“Sometimes,” Quinn admitted.  “I always keep it safe though.”

Riley nodded, mentally picturing Quinn in the role of a dashing pilot, like the ones from the old starfighter movies.  She smiled at the image.  “What about the Gauntlet?”

“Only idiots fly the Gauntlet,” Quinn frowned.  “You know those old city ruins to the south?”  Riley nodded in reply.  “Well, someone got the bright idea to draw up a flight path through there.  You know, under bridges, through old buildings, into the old tunnel systems, and then back up again.”

“Isn’t that dangerous?” Riley asked.

“9 out of 10 pilots crash.  9 out of 10 of those suffer some kind of injury.  A lot of people get hurt trying to be hotshot pilots in the Gauntlet.”

“Have you ever flown it?”

Quinn hesitated.  How much of the truth do I tell her?  “Once.  But I only did it because I was in a bad state of mind at the time.”  That, of course, was an understatement.  Quinn had just come out of surgery, the bandages still fresh on her aching back.  Pain and anger had over-ridden all common sense; but then again, maybe on some level she had wanted to crash and burn.

Riley noticed the tension in Quinn’s neck muscles, as the other woman refused to unlock her eyes from the road, and asked cautiously, “Did you crash?”

“By some miracle, no,” Quinn said tightly.  “I scraped my shuttle up big time, but I did manage to make it through the course.”  Then I landed and sobbed uncontrollably for about four hours…The memory darkened her good mood, and she fell silent.

They rode without talking for a while.  Riley wisely decided not to pry into the obviously sensitive topic, even though she was dying to know what her mysterious companion was holding back from her.  I’ve only known her two days; I have no right to dig into her past.  God, I should learn not to pry so much.  She rummaged in her bag for a piece of gum – anything to keep her mouth occupied on something other than talking – softly humming to herself.

Quinn inclined her head to the right a little at the sound.  It was a tune she recognized, and she smiled faintly.  “That’s a pretty nice rendition of that Penguins song,” she remarked.  “I had no idea you were musical.”

Riley smiled mischievously, still digging around in her bag, “Miss Quinn, you are not the only one with many skills, you know.”  She sighed, “Shit.  I forgot my id card.  Do you mind if we stop at my place to get it?”

“The bar probably won’t card you,” Quinn said.  She glanced over and looked at Riley’s features more closely.  “Then again…okay, hang on, we’ll stop.  It’ll be fine, it’s on the way anyway.”

Just as Quinn pulled the car over by Riley’s apartment, her cell phone rang.  “Quinn here,” she said, watching Riley jump out and dash into the building.

“We have a problem.”

Quinn knew immediately from sound of Stephanie’s voice that her evening was going to end much differently than she would have wanted.  “What’s going on, Steph?” she asked, dreading the answer.

“Neron’s up to something.  He’s moved the date of the arms shipment up.  It’s going down in six hours.”

“Fuck!” Quinn slammed her free hand against the steering wheel.  She shook her head with annoyance. “Did you contact my team yet?”

“Yeah, they’re already on their way in.  Look, Quinn…” Stephanie paused for a minute, “…I’m really sorry about this.  If I could change things…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Quinn interrupted.  “It’s not your fault.  Have my people start reviewing the mission plan.  I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”  She snapped the cell phone shut violently and tossed it in the backseat.

Riley got in the car just in time to see Quinn sigh and run her hand through her long black hair.  Uh oh…she thought.  “Um, something the matter?” Riley asked, though she already had a good idea what the response would be.

“I’m really really sorry, Riley,” Quinn began, unsure of how to explain the situation.  “Uh… something’s come up and it’s sort of an emergency…”

Riley’s heart sank all the way down to her feet.  I knew this was going too well to be true.  She hesitated, torn between wanting to understand and wanting to beg Quinn not to go.  Asking her to stay would be unreasonable, though, and she knew that.  Riley quashed the rising wave of disappointment in her gut and did her best to look unperturbed.

“I understand,” Riley said, plastering on a fake smile.  “Work emergencies wait for no one.  Believe me, in my line of work I know what it’s like.”  Quinn looked relieved.  “But, I expect us to finish this evening up on another date.”  Before she could think better of it, Riley leaned over, quickly kissed Quinn on the cheek and murmured, “Goodnight,” into her ear.  Then she disappeared just as quickly back into the apartment, leaving behind a very stunned Quinn Windsor, who reached up with one hand to feel where the light kiss had seemingly burned into her skin.

Oh my God, I can’t believe I just did that, Riley thought, as she collapsed against the inside of the door.  She heard Quinn’s car pull away from the curb.  I sure hope her emergency was worth it.  With a sigh, she climbed the stairs to her apartment, already debating which of the 600 television channels she wanted to fall asleep to.

 *  *  *  *  *

Quinn slid a fresh clip of ammo into her gun, half-smiling at the reassuring click that it made.  She donned her black padded jacket over her dark sleeveless shirt and stuck a few spare clips into the cargo pockets of her pants.  Clad all in black, her pistol strapped to her hip, her blue eyes glittering in the darkness, she looked like a vision of death.  She crouched down, resting her chin on her interlaced fingers, and inhaled deeply.  She closed her eyes and focused on the task at hand, pushing away all thoughts of her evening with Riley.  The energy flowing through Quinn was purely her own now; the adrenaline crackled inside her, begging to be released.

She stood in one fluid motion and moved back up into the cockpit of the tiny attack shuttle.  She slid into her seat and looked over at her co-pilot, Justin.  He smiled easily at her, showing no signs of anxiety.  He had taken the news of the last minute mission in stride, climbing into the shuttle without a second thought.  Quinn secretly wished she felt half as composed as her young companion looked.

“Captain, Alpha group engaged the convoy exactly three minutes ago,” he said, adjusting a few random controls.  “We should have about a fifteen minute window to get it done.”

Quinn nodded.  “Good.  You know the plan.  We infiltrate the transport and snag the crates.  If we can do it without them raising an alarm, great.  If not, well, we might have to fight our way out.  You ready?”

“Definitely,” he said, his mouth fixed in a grim smile.

“Then let’s do it.”  Quinn took control of the shuttle and eased it down from the cloudbank where they had been hiding.  They were directly above the huge transport ship that was their target.  Quinn lowered her craft gently, setting it down on the top of the unsuspecting transport in a flawless landing.  She adjusted her headset communicator and moved back into the cargo area of the shuttle.  “Wait for me to open the cargo bay doors before you make your move,” she instructed Justin, before slipping through a hatch in the floor.

The wind whistled past her, as she clutched the bottom of the shuttle with one hand and worked on entering the access code on the keypad below her with her other hand.  The keypad beeped its acceptance and a hatch opened in the roof of the transport.  She eased herself down and dropped soundlessly to the floor below, as the hatch slid back shut.

All her senses were on edge now.  Quinn could feel the air moving around her, her ears picked up every little sound.  She was in a vent directly above the cargo bay area.  She crept forward until she reached the access grill.  Peering through, she made out of the shapes of the two Tabon sentries below, leaning against the wall with boredom.  She didn’t see any guns in sight, though one of the sentries was absently fiddling with a long bladed weapon.  She flashed a savage grin as she unsheathed her knife – if she could make the kill silent, she might be able to prevent the pilot from calling for help.

She removed the grill carefully and waited for her chance.  Just as one of the sentries passed under her, she dropped down, her feet connecting with his head and slamming his face into the ground.  She rolled on impact and came up running, closing the distance between her and the other sentry quickly.  The Tabon whirled to face her, lashing out with one of his wings.  Quinn dodged beneath the strike and tackled the Tabon to the ground.  He struggled, but she held on, knowing that the long reach of the sentry’s wings gave him the advantage in a hand-to-hand contest.  Her best chance was to keep the fight up close.  A well-placed jab with her knife ended the fight abruptly.

She stood and strode over to the cargo bay door control on the wall.  She activated the doors.  Almost immediately, the ship shuddered, as Justin began opening fire from somewhere outside.  Quinn knew he was probably targeting the starboard engine, judging from the way the ship was starting to lurch.  A minute later, the tiny attack shuttle slipped into the cargo bay and landed gently.  Justin leapt out and started loading up crates into the back of the shuttle.  Quinn turned and made her way up to the cockpit to take care of the pilot.

“Mayday!  Mayday!  This is transport Alpha-Niner-Niner.   We have suffered heavy fire and are going down!”  The transport pilot frantically tried to maintain control of the spinning ship, punching buttons as fast as he could.  He never heard the door of the cockpit slide open behind him, and so was completely unprepared when Quinn brought the butt of her pistol down on his skull.  He slumped bonelessly out of his seat and onto the floor.

A quick look outside confirmed that the escort shuttles were nowhere in sight.  Quinn smiled grimly – it meant the other shuttles in her group were doing their jobs, keeping the escorts distracted while she did her work here on the transport.  Still, she didn’t have much time before the escort shuttles would figure out what was really going on and come racing back.  She glanced around the cockpit, noting that the pilot’s efforts to restore control had not been in vain; the ship was already beginning to correct itself.

“Not bad, flyboy,” she said absently to the unconscious man.  She tapped the communicator hooked onto her right ear.  “Justin, I need a status report on those crates.  Are we loaded up and ready to roll?”  She waited for the reply.  “Good, then fire up the engines, I’ll be there in a sec.”

Effortlessly, she reached down and hefted the large steel box stored behind the pilot’s seat.  Then she lifted her automatic pistol and liberally sprayed the control panels with half a clip’s worth of bullets.  She blinked slightly, as bright sparks exploded all over the place.  She felt the ship start to lurch again and she exited the cockpit quickly.

She ran all the way down the long cargo bay to where her shuttle was waiting at the other end.  Even dragging her heavy load she made it in record time.  Justin had already finished prepping the shuttle.  He leapt out and slid the shuttle door open.  “Here, Captain, toss it in the back for now.  We need to get the hell out of here before the ship crashes.”

She and Justin quickly deposited the box in the back with the crates.  Suddenly, the hairs on the back of Quinn’s neck stood straight up, as she detected the slightest stirring of the air around them.  Acting instinctively, she shoved Justin to the floor as she flung herself backwards.  A white blur flashed right over Justin’s head and struck Quinn in the shoulder, causing a sharp ripping pain.  She stumbled backwards, firing blindly at the shape.

Quinn hit the floor the same time as the Tabon sentry five feet away from her.  Unlike him, though, she was able to stand back up and assess the situation.  Justin looked slightly stunned as he saw the dead sentry lying in a pool of blood, the tips of his white wings twitching faintly.  “Get in the shuttle,” Quinn ordered the young man.  She eyed the wicked razors mounted along the edge of the Tabon’s wings; they were probably what had nailed her arm.  I can’t believe I didn’t scan for extra sentries.  Quinn shook her head at her carelessness, before jumping into her side of the shuttle cockpit.

“Let’s blast out of here, kid,” she said, her hands sliding around the controls.  The engines hummed and the tiny shuttle sped out of the cargo bay.  Behind them, the transport ship was already beginning to tilt and lose altitude.  In less than a minute, the huge ship plummeted into the ground below, exploding in a massive fireball.

“Alpha Team, this is Beta,” Quinn said into her communicator.  “We’re all clear.  Lose those escorts and head home.  We’ll meet you there.”  With a sigh, she activated the autopilot and leaned back.

Justin glanced over at Quinn, as she wearily removed her jacket.  “Jesus, Captain,” he exclaimed, “you’re bleeding all over the place.”

Quinn looked down at her left arm, which sported a wicked four-inch gash.  Justin dug out a med kit and was at her side in an instant, tending to the wound.  She smiled – the young man’s progress as an agent pleased her.  He was scarcely more than a boy really; his curly blond locks were cut short in the latest teen fashion and he still insisted on wearing his pants cut a size too big and his shirts a size too small, just like every other kid she saw at the mega-mall.  Still, he was surprisingly efficient and levelheaded when on a mission, and she considered him a valuable team member.

“You did good in there, kiddo,” she told him.

He shook his head, not looking up from his task.  “It’s my fault you got this,” he indicated her wound, sounding disgusted at himself.  “I didn’t see that sentry at all.  If you hadn’t pushed me out of the way…well, you really saved my ass.”

“Hey,” she grabbed his shoulder, “don’t you dare get down on yourself.  You kept a clear head, did your job well, and we got the mission done.  In my book, any mission that I don’t get killed on is a good mission.  Understand?”  It was true - despite the last minute planning, everything had gone off fairly well.  “Hey, I even managed to grab the transmission coder on my way out of the cockpit.”  The heavy steel box, which would allow them to decipher enemy communications, was worth its weight in food rations.

Justin nodded slowly, “You’re right.”  His normal cheerful expression was already creeping back to his face.  The kid bounces back faster than anyone I know, Quinn thought.  Sure enough, soon he was prompting her to tell him some of her war stories.  She finally gave in, filling the time back to headquarters with the tale of her first battle experience.

Quinn had just finished wrapping up her tale when they landed in the main hanger.  She climbed out to find Stephanie waiting there impatiently.  “It took you long enough, Quinn.  What, did you and Justin stop for burgers on the way home or something?”

“I had to make sure we weren’t followed,” Quinn replied.  “I like to be cautious.”

Stephanie nodded.  She signaled with one hand and three men hustled into the shuttle and began unloading the crates with rapid-fire precision.  She noticed the bandage on Quinn’s arm and asked, “Did you run into trouble?”

“There was an extra Tabon guard in the cargo bay.  I shot him, but not before he got me first.”

“An extra guard?” Stephanie was surprised.  “Since when did they start putting extra security on routine transports?”  She paused.  “Well, you’re lucky the guy had lousy aim, or you would’ve gotten shot in a much more uncomfortable place.”

“He didn’t shoot me.  He had a pair of wing blades on,” Quinn said.  “He didn’t even have a gun.  None of the guards did.”

Stephanie scowled at this new piece of information, clearly disturbed.  Before she could comment though, she was notified by one of the workers that the crates were unloaded.  She hefted a crowbar in one hand.  “Well, let’s crack these babies open and see what we’ve got.”  She walked over to one crate and began prying it open.  She grinned at Quinn, “I have to admit, this makes me feel like a kid at Christmas again.”

“I don’t remember Santa ever bringing me firearms in my stocking,” Quinn said wryly, moving over to open another crate.

Stephanie laughed and popped the top off.  She reached in, pulling a deadly looking rifle from its protective foam.  “Looks like we’ve got a box of Sig SG-551’s.”  She turned the rifle over appraisingly, hefting it to look through the mounted scope.  “Nice.  Justin, empty this crate out and give me a count.”  The man scrambled over to take care of the crate.

“I’ve got a box of Super 90’s over here, Steph,” Quinn called, holding up a shotgun for her friend to see.  “And a few Glock M-34 pistols too.”

“I take back what I said earlier,” Stephanie said.  “This is way better than Christmas.”  She pulled a heavy automatic pistol from another crate and tossed it to Quinn.

Quinn snagged the weapon easily with one hand.  “Ooh.  An SP-89.  My favorite.”  A roguish smile crossed her face, as she lifted the pistol, testing its weight.  “I think I might just keep this.”  She slid the gun under her belt, making a mental note to visit the shooting range later to try out her new toy.  She moved onto the next crate, this one marked “Fragile” in large yellow letters on the side, and pried off the top.

“Holy shit.”  Quinn’s crowbar clattered to the ground.  Stephanie turned in the direction of the sound and saw the look of shock on Quinn’s face.

“Quinn, what do you have there?”  Stephanie jogged over.  She looked into the crate and froze, a single word escaping her lips, “Jesus.”

Quinn’s lips twisted in a grimace, as she examined one of the flat metallic cylinders in the crate.  “High tech explosives.  Powerful stuff; only the military uses this model.”  She waved Justin over.  “Hey, kid, do you remember how many crates were marked like this in the transport?”

He thought about it for a minute.  “Uh, probably about 80 percent of them.”

A low whistle emitted from Stephanie’s lips.  “Well,” she commented, “I guess we know why none of the guards had guns.  One bad shot and the ship would have been vaporized. But…what we don’t know is what the hell they need this many explosives for.”

“Whatever it is, it can’t be good,” Quinn said, still frowning.

“It looks like we’ve set back whatever plans they have,” Justin observed.  “It’s going to take them at least a couple weeks to replace that many explosives.”

Quinn nodded briskly.  “Well, that gives us about two weeks to figure out what they’re planning and how to stop it.  Let’s get cracking, people.”  She strode away, trying to ignore the feeling of dread that was building in her stomach.  I have a very, very bad feeling about this…

 *  *  *  *  *

Riley sat in the uncomfortable wooden chair outside the Chief’s office, anxiously watching the second hand of the clock make revolution after revolution.  The noise of the bustling police station, normally a comforting sound to her, seemed impossibly irritating.  She glanced again at the closed door.  If the Chief doesn’t hurry up, I think I’m going to explode.  Again, she looked at the clock, silently bemoaning every lost second that passed by.  Quinn was supposed to be picking her up in a few hours, and she hadn’t even showered yet.

Riley couldn’t help but smile at the thought of the beautiful pilot.  She had worried that she had been too forward with Quinn the other night.  Those fears were quelled, though, when a bouquet of flowers and a little package arrived at her apartment the next day.  A note was tucked into the flowers.

Sorry about running off the other night.  Let me make it up to you tomorrow.  Dinner and dancing, 7:00, my treat. Please say yes.
                                                                                      -Quinn

The handwriting was bold and dynamic, the letters slashing across the paper in clear, even strokes.  Somehow, it fit Quinn perfectly.  Riley had stuck the card safely away in her jewelry box, after re-reading it about twenty times.  With a faint sense of giddiness, she unwrapped the package, discovering a silver game ball signed by the entire Spartans starting team.  If this keeps up, I may have to permanently tape my jaw shut to keep it from dropping every time I’m around her, Riley had thought, shaking her head at the incredible gift.

Riley shifted in her chair, glancing again at the clock.  I’ve been waiting for over fifteen minutes, so this can’t be that important, she reasoned to herself.  He won’t mind if I just slip away.  She eyed the exit and reached slowly down to grab her duffle bag.

The door slid open behind her, cutting off her plan for escape.  “Get in here, Cameron,” a gruff voice called.

“Shit,” she muttered under her breath.  She stood and entered the office, coming to attention before the Chief’s desk.  “You wanted to see me, sir?”

Chief Johnson nodded.  “Sid down.”  Riley complied, taking a seat across from the desk.  The Chief lit one of his trademark cigars, taking a long drag before speaking.  “Cameron, I’ve got a job for you.”  He reached into a desk drawer and produced a stack of data pads, handing them to her.  “We know there are several terrorist cells operating in Capital City right now.”

“You mean the resistance, sir?” Riley asked, shuffling through the pads with interest.

The Chief snorted, “Call them whatever you want.  Those data pads contain all the information compiled both by our force and by the Tabon authorities.  I want you to review them carefully.  I’m assigning you to be part of an investigative team.  We’re going to wipe the city clean of the resistance element.”

“Forgive me for asking, sir,” Riley said hesitantly, “but why the sudden interest in the resistance now?  They’ve been around long enough and we’ve never really tried to bring them in before.  And why choose me for the team?  I’m just a beat cop.”

The Chief released another large cloud of smoke, before roughly stubbing out the remainder of his cigar.  He leaned back slowly, narrowing his eyes at Riley.  “You like to ask a lot of questions, don’t you, Officer Cameron?”

“You could say that, sir,” she replied cautiously.

“In fact, you applied for detective training last year, didn’t you?”  Riley nodded mutely, her head dropping a little.  He continued, “But, unfortunately, you failed the placement exam.”

“By one point, sir,” Riley said softly, trying to ignore the sudden bitter taste in her mouth.  Becoming a detective had always been a dream of hers.  Failing the placement exam had been one of the worst days of her life, as years of striving and effort became worthless, all because of one wrong answer too many.

“I know.  I get all the test results.”  The Chief paused, as he pulled out another cigar.  “The Tabon president will be visiting our city in a month to begin negotiations with the Council.  Needless to say, it is imperative that nothing goes wrong while he’s here.  The mayor was quite clear that he won’t tolerate any terrorist actions impeding the negotiations.  That’s why we’re going to round up all the resistance agents we can find, to reduce the chance of something going wrong.”

He leaned forward, locking eyes with Riley.  “You’re a good cop, Cameron.  You think quick and you pay attention.  I like that.  Plus, we believe the resistance has a cell located somewhere in your sector.  I want you to see what you can find out, and submit a formal report to me.  If I continue to like what I see, well…” he paused, then winked at her, “…maybe we can just forget about that little placement exam.”

Riley gaped at him.  “Sir, that would be fantastic.  I promise, I’ll do my best.”

He nodded.  “Good.  You’ve got two weeks.  Make something happen.  Now, get out of here, so I can enjoy my cigar in peace.”

Riley came to attention and marched out the door, clutching the data pads in her arms.  The door slid shut behind her, and she immediately sank back down into the wooden chair, trembling.  She took a deep breath, trying to collect her thoughts.  She tucked the data pads into her bag, slowly rising to leave.  She left in a happy daze, swearing to herself that this time she would not waste her chance.  I’ll personally arrest every resistance agent one by one, if that’s what it’ll take.  I have a feeling this case is going to change my life…

TBC...