Detente?

[JJRSC]

Hey everyone, this is a little scene I imagined from early on in the X3TC Terran Plot. It takes place on Argon Prime. Hope you enjoy it.

One of the toughest things in writing (I'm told) is to put together a scene that's mostly discussion and a lot of exposition but still keep it interesting; so that's what I'm working on right now. Again, hope you like it.




Sam Cullough sat down, took a deep breath. He glanced around at the buildings, the tops of which scintillated in the early morning sun. Sonra had not yet risen over the skyline so that he could see it on the ground, but he could see rays of early sunshine hitting the tops of the surrounding skyscrapers.

He sat and took in the bubbling sounds from the fountain behind him, gazed out at the openness of the small park in front of him, nestled between rows of towers and complexes in the heart of the crowded city. He could reach out and touch the lush green of the lawn and the shrubs; still he only had to cross the street to be back in a bustling metropolis. It was a dichotomy he always enjoyed.

"One thing I never liked about this park... they could never keep the riff-raff out."

Cullough stood and turned. "Terry!"

"Sam, you nut. Good to see you!" The larger man engulfed Cullough in a bear hug.

They parted. Sam said, "Good to see you again, my friend."

"You too. Hell, good to see anything at this point."

Cullough nodded. "Yeah I hear you there." He sat, opened the paper bag he had set on the table. "Come, on I'm starving." He began tearing into the breakfast he had bought at a nearby deli.

Terry Houghton did the same. Houghton was a large man, nearly two meters tall, black, nearly all muscle. He and Cullough had met when Houghton Captained the Diosophos, a Titan-class destroyer in the Federation Starfleet. Cullough had been visiting Federation space on a diplomatic mission in his Osaka, two years earlier. He took a bite of his breakfast cahoona, watching Cullough devour his. "Hungry?"

"Mmmrmph Firrmirnmfff."

"Good," Houghton answered. "You may wanna check and make sure you still have all of your fingers."

Cullough took a moment to make a show of checking his hands, still clutching his cahoona, for any injuries or anomalies. Seeing nothing amiss, he shrugged, swallowed his mouthful of sandwich and took another huge bite.

"Let me know if you stop breathing. I'll call the paramedics. They should be here in about half an hour."

"Thank you for your concern," Cullough said around a mouthful of food. "How's the new job?"

"It's good... learning how to fly a desk is more of an adventure than I thought it would be. But it handles pretty well, has good pickup and lands easy at five on the dot."

"Sounds like a formidable piece of furniture."

"Couldn't fly it through a gate... but it's able to make me a lot better money than anything I ever flew that did."

"Nice. You and Cheryl?"

"Well, seeing as she knows I probably won't further than twenty light years away at any given point during the day, well... we're thinking, you know, maybe..."

Cullough smiled and nodded. "Well that sounds good, Terry. That sounds really good."

"We're thinking maybe next summer."

"Planetside or in space? And which planet?"

"Oh Argon Prime, no question. She spent her whole life here... no way in hell we're getting married anywhere else."

"Well, just give me the ring when it's time..."

"Give you the ring - what the hell for?"

"For the ceremony. That's what a best man does." Houghton gaped at him, blinking. "Look, I can see where this conversation is going. You don't have to get all nervous when you ask. Sure, I'll do it. Now relax and eat your breakfast."

"My brother's going to be my best man, you nut." Houghton said, incredulous. "What makes you think you're going to be best man?"

"Why not? I bought breakfast."

Houghton laughed. "'Cause you're a pain in the ass, that's why not." Houghton paused for a moment, said, "How's your job going?"

"Oh my God, the money's insane..."

"By insane, you mean there's a lot of money or there isn't any?"

Cullough kept going. "And oh God, the women... women everywhere..."
Houghton sensed where this was going. "Have any of them spoken to you?"

"Not that I've noticed. But everyone knows me. It's great. It's a lot fun."

"You're broke and nobody back home gives you the time of day."

"See, you knew without asking. We're," he began pointing at Houghton then back to himself, "we've got a connection. We're in tune," Cullough said. He popped the last of his cahoona into his mouth and washed it down with more coffee. "That's why you should ask me to be your best man."

Houghton guffawed. "You know for a second, I was afraid you were going to tell me I should marry you, not Cheryl."

Cullough shook his head. "Nah, I'm not into the inter-racial thing."

"Is that because I'm black or I'm because I'm Argon?"

"It's 'cause you're Jewish."

"What?!? I'm not Jewish," Houghton responded.

"You're not?"

Houghton shook his head. "No..."

Cullough thought for a moment. "Well then," he said, "doing anything later, handsome?"

Houghton shook his head, went back to eating his sandwich. "Oy veh." He took a gulp of his coffee, then said, "You know, I'm kind of surprised you came back to Argon Prime..."

"I love Argon Prime. I feel kind of like it's a second home to me. It's nice to be back, tell you the truth." He nodded to the empty foil and paper on the table. "I missed the cahoonas."

Houghton laughed. "Yeah, I can tell."

"You know what I think I love about Argon Prime?"

Houghton shook his head.

"It's like New York. That's my home town, on Earth. It's like a big, planet-sized version of New York. The energy, the bustle - but there's also this... sensibility... very laissez faire... in that you go ahead and do what you want to do as long as you're not hurting anybody, go ahead, do what you want, enjoy yourself. Nobody's judging, nobody cares as long as no one gets hurt. Very accepting, in its own way.

"There are lots of places that have one or the other, but not both. I don't know, I'm not saying it very well. I really like it here. Feels like home. Same as New York. I missed it."

"So you're saying there's a chance I could get you to defect?" Houghton asked.

"Depends on the specifics of the offer..."

"I got ten credits in my pocket..."

"Solid offer. How long you been doing this?"

"About thirty seconds."

"I'd have sworn it was forty," Cullough said. "Anyway let's resume this discussion when you come to visit in New York."

"Hmm. Sure."

"Right." Cullough paused for a moment. Suddenly there was tension where there hadn't been before. "I know, things are tense."

"Goddamm right they're tense. Hell we're looking at a full blown cold war here, Sam," Houghton said. Cullough was surprised by his intensity.

Guess I struck a nerve, Cullough thought. "I know, I'm not happy about it either." Cullough took another sip of coffee. "Our lives got a lot more complicated two months ago."

"I know, there's a whole lot of nasty words going back and forth between both sides... where the hell did this come from, Sam? Do your people really think we're working with the Xenon? Really?"

"There was some evidence there implicating your people..."

"Yes, there was. Flimsy, circumstantial evidence."

"Yes it was -"

"You know what this smells like Sam? Do you?"

Cullough shrugged.

"A pretext. This smells like a pretext and you know it."

"Christ's sake, Terry, it wasn't my idea!"

"This whole thing smells like a set up. The Earthers are looking for any excuse to..." he looked at Cullough intently for a moment, "... to what?" he asked.

"Is this an official conversation, Terry?"

Houghton stared him down a moment. "Maybe it is."

"Well, in that case, maybe, I might not be able to help you, as I'm not attached to USC in any official capacity any longer."

"Sure, you're retired, you're done now, off doing your thing... sure. I'm sure you don't do any, say, consulting, from time to time... for the company? They don't ever call you back from time to time do they? You know, a quick coffee and cake run someplace, a few extra bucks...?"

A sardonic smile touched Cullough's lips. "No, never. I'm sure that thought never occurred to you either."

Houghton's stare met his Cullough's smirk. Neither man flinched. "Never."

"Of course not." He leaned back in his chair as his smile widened. "You retire from the fleet, get a plum position, with - I imagine - a very vague title/job description, at an interstellar import/export conglomerate. No, no way that could ever be a front."

Houghton shook his head, forced a thin smile. "Think so, huh?"

"For crying out loud, Terry, I didn't just fall off the turnip truck," Cullough replied, still leaning back in his chair, smiling. "When you told me about when you first got the job I looked the company up on the coretex. I've been in defense a little while myself... I know an intel front when I see one."

"Yeah, I guess you... I mean, no comment."

Cullough rolled his eyes, took a swig of coffee. "What's your job title, anyway? 'Senior Executive Primary Facilitator,' or some bull like that?"

Houghton laughed. "Come on man, this is my job!"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah..."

"Hey Sam, there's something I gotta ask you... for real this time."

"All right."

"A few weeks back one of our outposts back east got hacked - some of your people broke in. We got the ingress vehicle but the getaway ship, well, got away. A hacker and an accomplice in the station. We don't how many in the exit vehicle. You know anything about that?"

"Terry, this discussion is starting to sound a little more official than I would like."

"Come on, man." Cullough said nothing. "Off the record."

Cullough's face hardened. He leaned in closer, dropped his voice. "Ship in question is a Teladi Vulture."

"Vulture tanker."

"The accomplice hacks his way onto the station, springs the other. Security impounds the ingress ship, the fugees have to improvise, they get suited up and dive out an airlock. The vulture scoops them both up and jumps out before sentry ships can reach them."

Houghton's eyes widened. "Go on."

"Nope, don't know anything about it."

"You are such an asshole."

Cullough offered his empty cup to Houghton. "Need fingerprints?"

"You know, you think you're being real clever and funny here, when I could have you taken in any second now."

Cullough looked Houghton in the eye. "Yeah, you could, but you won't," he said evenly.

"Yeah, and why is that?"

"Because you'd only do that if you were under orders to do so - and if the Argon government wanted to lock me up they'd have grabbed me in orbit before I even boarded the shuttle for the planet's surface.

"This conversation... they know you and I are friends. We fought Xenon together, Kha'ak, all that. I'm thinking one of your higher ups finds out you and I are meeting here today, he asks you if you think you can chat me up, get me to spill anything. Other than that, it's unofficial." He paused, studying Houghton a moment. "Am I right?"

Houghton sat for a moment, saying nothing. "You're not far off, I guess. That why you flew here in that Caiman? Afraid we'd be looking out for the Vulture?"

"Hey, that Caiman may have cleared you guys - the Federation, I mean, from any wrongdoing in this incident."

"Really? How's that? And don't think that we're scared to death of the big bad Terrans... unlike everybody else in the Galaxy," Houghton grumbled.

"No, I don't think you are scared of us. I don't. Frankly, the last thing... look, Terry," Cullough began, "Look, no bull, here, okay? Straight up, completely off the record?

"Just between you and me. Come on," Cullough pleaded.

Houghton nodded.

Cullough continued. "My own feeling on this whole thing - the accusations against the Federation - is total bull. Yeah, an accomplice - a pirate - was spotted flying a nova away from a rendezvous with a Xenon spy probe -"

Houghton cut him off. "Wait, you know that was a pirate nova?"

"Yes, I do. Please don't ask me how. But yes, it was a pirate. Try to quote me on that and I'll deny it."

Houghton glared at him, shook his head. "Fine."

"But between you and me, I don't think you guys had anything to do with the Sol Incident. Hell, I know you didn't. I've been trying to tell anyone back home who will listen. Not many people want to, but there are a few. But I do get the feeling our government is protesting a little too much.

"Just between you and me, I don't know what they're up to, but I'm not buying this crap anymore than you are. Than any of you are."

Houghton let out a long breath. "Thank you! Thank you! You don't know how long I've been waiting for someone who wasn't Argon to come out and say this is all bull. All of this Terran crap - no offense - accusing us of collaborating with the Xenon. The Xenon?!? REALLY?!?
"I mean, this is - really, this feels... well it feels good. It's nice to not be being accused, you know..."

"Yes, I know," Cullough answered. "Being accused of anything isn't fun," Cullough then added, quietly, "I know."

"Now, you said that Caiman cleared us? How's that?"

"Terry, I can't say anymore. I can't. But you guys have a much stronger case now. That's all I can say."

"If you want to see who's collaborating with the Xenon, you should try looking at the Split..."

Cullough shrugged.

Houghton saw a gleam in Cullough's eye as he shrugged. "What?"

"What?" protested Cullough. "I didn't say anything."

Houghton studied Cullough's face. "Not saying anything, huh?"

"I didn't say one thing."

Houghton let a slight smile touch his lips. It was the Split, he thought. You found evidence pointing to the Split - of course: the Split Caiman. You found evidence in the Caiman that links the Split to the Xenon incident in the Sol System. Son of a bitch.

"So, have you found anyone else who believes in our innocence?"

"A few. I know a few Senators that I've been able to speak to... on your behalf, so to speak."

"Impressive... didn't know you had such connections."

"There's also a few in the ATF Brass, believe it or not, who are a little skeptical about this witch-hunt. Been talking to them too."

"Surprising."

"A little bit. ATF tends to be a little reactionary... but there are some real pros there too. Men and women who want to catch the right people, not who want to just hang to first suspect. Smart people."

"But not as many who want to start lynching right away."

"In the Terran military? Are you kidding? We pride ourselves in making the facts peripheral."

"Never doubted that from the second I met you," Houghton answered. "Sam," he took a deep breath, "how did it get this way? I mean, things were always tense... your people weren't exactly welcoming when we first met. But, it seemed like, when you and USC began to visit the Commonwealth, it seemed like it was getting better. Your President visited Argon Prime. Our governments were talking. We were getting along. Now, everyday that goes by I'm expecting to hear that we're shooting at each other. That's how bad it's gotten. How did we get here?"

"Lot's of things, I guess. We just had elections about a year ago. President Kellar served two terms, she had to step down. The new guy, Park, is a hard-line reactionary. Congress is more conservative too. Progressives got hammered in the last election - the economy I guess, though I can't see that it's gotten any better since the election. I think the new administration really kind of wants to find somebody to start shooting at. It's happened before, a single election cycle can change the entire direction of a nation. Or a planet.

"Anyway, I'm not much happier with the President and his administration than you are. I was hoping our two nations would get along. We seemed like we might be heading in that direction a couple of years ago. A lot of different people - on both sides - have a lot of different agendas right now, it seems." Cullough sat for a moment. "I don't know. Best we can do is hope for the best, I guess. Maybe pray?"

"You really did go to bat for us, didn't you?" Houghton asked.

Cullough nodded. "Yup."

"So what happens now?"

"I don't know. We find out who's behind this Xenon incident. Ignore the political bs and do our jobs. The sooner we get to the bottom of all this nonsense the better."

"And when we do get to the bottom of this, "Houghton returned, "if we do, does that just pause this until another pretext comes up?"

"I don't know, Terry. I'm not pals with the President. I'm not even technically in the service anymore. We just do what we do and hope for the best. That's all I can say." Cullough's datapad beeped. He took it out of his pocket, studied it. "I'm afraid I need to get going."

"Need to bust some more of your people out of our jails?"

"Yeah, as a matter of fact. Some asteroid in Red Wall. Wanna come along?"

"Hah! No thanks. You've got your hands full with that one. Good luck."

"No kidding! That's why I want your help."

"Sam, you are a nut. You will always be a nut. But you're good people. Glad I didn't let the Xenon roast you two years ago."

"Then it's a good thing I saved your ass the month before."

"Heh. Let's keep in touch, okay? See what we can do to ease tensions..."

"I'd love to, Terry, but is that a good idea? One of us slips and says the wrong thing and that could be treason."

"We have to be careful, then."

"I'll think about it." Cullough held out his right hand. "Via con dios, amigo. We'll continue this discussion later. But if you ever need help, or a favor, give me a call. I'll do, well, what I can do."

They shook hands. "What was that... vy yonco...?"

"Oh, that's Spanish... one of the old languages of Earth. I don't know much. But it means, 'Go with God, my friend.'"

"You too my friend."

"And call me when you get the ring!" Cullough added.

"Sure! You can pass it on to my brother."

"Spoilsport."

"Travel safe, Captain Cullough."

"You too. Careful with that desk." Cullough waved and turned to leave.