Day 29, and it’s almost the end! But don’t worry, I’ll do it again in March. February I will attempt to post an entry per day from the Nineteen Galaxies Encyclopaedia I’ve been working on the last couple of years, with hopefully a quick sketch (I can’t promise it’ll be any good mind).
Anyway, this is an old cliché using two characters that were centre stage in one of the storylines of Ghosts of Earth (yes, I just did that).
The unmarked hover-car rolled to a stop, and the heavyset man jumped out and ran into the bakery shop. The other sighed, and sunk into his seat.
Mando had literally been salivating at the prospect of getting some more pastries, demanding they pull over and get some in.
“Just in case,” he had said, though Vin-Bornn knew full well that they were for no such thing. He returned several minutes later with an armful of boxes, sugar debris around his mouth, and the top box missing a few pastries.
“You’re going to give yourself a heart attack, you know that right?”
“With modern medicine?”
“Modern medicine, such as it is, only goes so far. At the very least, you’re going to give yourself indigestion, Mando.”
“Yeah, yeah, just drive, Detective.”
Ruul Vin-Bornn pulled their Department-issue hover-car into the New Amsterdam Central traffic. He dropped it down into the lower lanes, avoiding the majority of the cargo lanes.
“There’s the suspect,” Ruul said, pointing to their suspect on the platform outside the New Amsterdam Central Hall. He pulled the car into the nearest parking clamp, and the arms locked into place around the bonnet. Vin-Bornn was already jumping out of the car, walking fast and starting to blend into the car.
Mando struggled out onto the small gangway that extended out on his side of the car. He stopped; his breathing sounded like he was choking.
“Oh, gods, this is it.”
His chest hurt, and he dropped to his knees against the hood of the car.
“I’m gonna die knowing Ruul was right again.”
Ruul was by his side in moments, suspect in hand. He slammed the suspect, a known trafficker of illegal and exotic weapons, against the hood.
“Stay there!” he ordered. The weapons dealer seemed about to run, but Ruul clocked him around the back of the head with a slap. “Move and I’ll shoot you,” he growled.
“I’ve got rights,” the criminal complained.
Mando was on the floor, choking.
Ruul sighed and gave him the hardest smack on the back, right between his shoulder blades. The overweight detective coughed up the chunk of ring-shaped pastry he had swallowed too quickly, blocking his gullet.
Coughing and spluttering, Alvis dragged himself to his feet just as the suspect tried to make a run for it. He found both detectives’ feet in the way, and tripped face-first onto the platform floor. His hands were still cuffed behind his back, and his nose was now broken.
“We’re gonna need an ambulance,” wheezed Alvis.
“And tell Dokus’Do I hit another suspect,” replied Vin-Bornn groaned.