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belonged to an Oogar. It looked big even in his arms.

The one with the laser rifle watched Rick and Sato with narrowed eyes. Like all the others, he was dark skinned, his ancestry speaking of possibly native South American descent. He looked as hard as carbon fiber reinforced armor. Sato saw that Rick had singled him out as well and never took his glowing blue eyes off of him.

<It’s making more sense now,> Sato commed.

<What’s going on?>

<Later. I’m not sure they can’t intercept us.> He knew Rick would want to know more, but the former marine was patient. Sato didn’t think you could be a marine and not have patience. The job seemed to involve a lot of waiting.

The interior of the dropship was configured for passengers and cargo. Don Gutierrez was speaking with someone at the cockpit door, who looked up at Rick and Sato as they entered, then went back to his hushed conversation. Another crewman, maybe a loadmaster, was securing Dakkar’s container on one side of the fuselage. The other was taken up by dozens of shipping cases the size of small suitcases. They were stacked on pallets, a dozen or so to each one, and wrapped with heavy camouflage cargo netting, then secured to the floor with polybands, each having a ratchet to ensure a tight fit.

“Looks like a professional loadout,” Sato noted. Rick only nodded. The cargo master came over and greeted them.

“Please take these seats up front. You’re the only passengers,” he said in Spanish.

“What’s the other cargo?” Sato asked. The man ignored the question.

“Have either of you been on a dropship?”

“Many times,” Rick answered. The man seemed to look at him for the first time and did a double take.

“Oh, okay. Please buckle in and prepare for a STOL.”

“Roger that,” Rick said and sat in the proffered seat, which creaked slightly. Sato sat next to him, and both began buckling in. By the time they were done, Don Gutierrez had come back to them.

“Takeoff is in five minutes,” he explained. “I’ve instructed Toppo to drop you off in San Antonio, his first stop.”

“Did you plan to go into drug running when you retired from Cartwright’s Cavaliers?” Rick asked.

Sato gasped out loud and glared at Rick, shocked that the man would make such an accusation. Then he thought about the tough characters and their strange cargo. The pieces fell into place seconds after Rick had put it together.

Don Gutierrez narrowed his eyes at Rick, then laughed uproariously. He looked at Rick and shook his head. “No. If you really must know, I was recruited by the Golden Horde for this job. Safe travels, and I wish you luck.” Don Gutierrez went down the loading ramp, and it closed behind him. Seconds later the Phoenix’s engines were spinning up, and they were taxiing out of the hangar.

* * * * *

Chapter Twelve

“Do you think he was telling the truth?” Rick asked his travelling companion.

“About what?” Sato asked.

“All of it.”

“Yes,” Sato said. Rick watched as he got up and walked to the nearest stack of crates. He opened his mouth to say something then thought better of it. Sato seemed to be on a mission. The older scientist produced a little pocketknife and broke the seal on a crate he could reach through the netting. Without taking the crate out, he worked it open enough to reach inside and extract a vial, then reclosed the crate.

He turned and held it up for Rick to see. The clear glass vial was sealed with a plastic strip. On the strip was a stylized flashing star design. Inside the vial itself was a granulated material that looked like salt. Sato held it up to the nearest light, and the particles threw a rainbow of colors. “Sparkle,” he said.

Sato sat back down and quickly buckled in. The Phoenix turned tightly, and the engine noise grew to a scream. A second later it rolled forward and quickly became airborne.

Rick looked at the vial. He knew what Sparkle was. Everyone on Earth knew what it was. The government had spent billions a year on interdiction, education, and imprisonment of those involved in the trade. Sparkle had first appeared on Earth sometime after the Alpha Contracts. Rumor had it the drug was discovered on some alien world, a harmless spice to the planet’s natives. Others suggested aliens had created it to send to Earth just to fuck with Humans.

Whatever the source or the reason, it was insidious. Sparkle worked directly on pleasure receptors in the brain, creating a condition of euphoria. Depending on the purity, this condition could create deeply immersive ‘pleasure dreams,’ which eventually interfered with the user’s everyday life, becoming more desirable than real life. The name came from both the signature rainbow effect when held up to light, and a visual distortion to the user’s perceptions as it took effect. It was also highly addictive and worked on most races in the galaxy.

“That shit is bad news,” he said, nodding at the vial.

“I know,” Sato agreed.

Rick could only describe his expression as haunted. The older man opened his mouth, shook his head slightly, and closed his mouth.

“What?” Rick asked.

“Another time,” he said, his eyes losing focus.

He’s zoning out again, Rick thought.

The Phoenix leveled off after only climbing for a minute, and thrust increased. A moment later the superstructure shuddered as they passed through Mach. “Pretty low altitude,” Sato remarked.

Rick nodded gravely. Really low altitude, considering how mountainous the region was. Shortly after takeoff, their access to the global Aethernet returned, so the jamming was localized around Don Gutierrez’s hangar. Rick guessed it could have even been some device carried by the Colombian smugglers. Whatever the source, now that it was gone, he could see their location and direction of travel. North-by-northwest.

“Better tighten

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