Fighting the War on Drugs IN SPAAAACE!
My name’s Max Power. I’m a vice cop. I’m here on some backwater planet called Kether, in search of a ring of dope manufacturers. It’s pretty heavy stuff, Benadryl-D, or Cetaphil B, or whatever it’s called. Remember how Marijuana nearly destroyed all life on Earth back in the 20th century? Satyr Fill D is twice as bad.
I arrived in the Kether system a week ago, and spent the first several days orbiting the moon, Rispin’s End. That turned out to be a dead end, though: nothing to find but some geologists and tourists. I can’t believe I wasted a week there.
I finally gave up, and came down to Kether’s only spaceport. I figured there would be some shady folks, derelicts and down-and-outs, you know the type. But no, the spaceport is clean as a whistle, which itself is suspicious… but not so suspicious that I decide to hang around. I’m supposed to be undercover, so I headed to a sleazy cantina nearby to look for the scum and villlainy.
Being a master of disguise, versed in gang and underworld etiquette, able to blend in and vanish into any crowd, I made my subtle entry. I bellow to the dame behind the counter “HEY, I MAKE DRUGS! WHO WOULD I TALK TO ABOUT BUYING THEM?” Not at all put off by such bizarre behavior, she pointed out a few unsavory looking folks for me to chat up. The guy I talk to instantly fingers me as a narc, cuz yeah I guess it was kind of obvious. Also apparently not put off by such bizarre behavior, he invited me back to his place to talk. These folks really tolerate a lot of weird behavior from tourists.
I gave him a few minutes of a discreet lead, but I wish I hadn’t. I showed up just in time to find someone leaving, and found him in a pool of his own blood. Dead men don’t talk, not for more than a few moments anyway, but it was enough to give me my next lead. He and someone else were in cahoots to shaft some other kingpin (a female kingpin? a queenpin?), and had set up a meet for the next morning. I decided that I would make that meeting the next morning… but the guy never shows. I looked up the guy in the phone book and visited his house, and instead found a very distraught dame. She was hardly coherent, but I caught that the fella has gone missing, that she thought that I’m one of his “colleagues”, and that she thinks those colleagues are why he’s gone.
Damn. My list of leads keeps getting shorter, and bodies keep piling up.
Still, she let slip the name of the dive where he and his “coworkers” meet, and I decided to pay a visit. I walked right into a nest of snakes too — one second in the door, and I got goons pointing a gun at my belly. Apparently their boss wanted to talk with me, so we’re going for “a little ride.” Finally, a solid lead! By way of being their prisoner…
They took me out to a rich manor house in the country, and introduced me to their boss. She has a job for me, she said, and if I don’t wanna play ball…
Well, I didn’t wanna play ball. So I took a bullet to the back of the head.
Not even one combat. Not even one skill roll. Didn’t touch the dice since page 1.
My crime noir adventure, ended here.
First published September 6, 2019. Last updated December 15, 2020.