Chapter 40 - The Rescue

Statistics show that every single gambling institution in the galaxy is a hot bed for time displacement theft. It happens so frequently that most of these businesses have insurance to help them cover the losses. It’s a victimless crime. Usually.

This was what Micah Rogers had been told by the dark space forums where he got the fake id matrices. Turns out, that’s practically all you need. Go in one day with your legitimate ID, gather intel, and choose a spot to pick up the intel. Go back in time once you have the info, and drop it off to yourself in the secure location. If he was successful today, he’d be hitting multiple casinos around Earth all month with this pattern. Never large enough takes to arouse suspicion; but easily large enough to cover the costs of the fake ID’s, renting an ITSTU, and get a hefty profit.

Of course, there was a little risk that the displaced person gets sloppy, forgets exactly where they were every step of the day before, and bumps into themselves. This had to be part of the planning. Make sure you don’t end up too close to yourself. Grafting didn’t just ruin the take. It was a death sentence.

The only other risk was two completely unrelated displaced parties accidentally bumping into each other. Every instance of displacement occurring simultaneously only increased the chances of a paradox happening outside of, “acceptable tolerance,” or so he was told.

As he pushed his way through the casino to his intel drop point, he passed by a young woman in flashy immediattire surrounded by security. He eyed them suspiciously, but grinned. It was perfect, security was distracted and he would take advantage of that. He walked over to the slot machines next to the Odd’s End, and saw himself drinking at the bar. He’d technically arrived early, but he wanted to see the look on his own face as he came up with the idea. He sat at the slot and fed it some tender, rolling his eyes as it told him that he’d lost. He grinned. The slot might disagree, but today was going to be his lucky day.

Kayla jogged into the casino and finally paused, leaning over to catch her breath. She was pretty sure this would count as, “pushing it,” as far as her surgery recovery was concerned. She glanced up and began searching for a server or anyone who might be able to give her answers to Craig’s whereabouts. She spotted a kaiseichan in gold and black carrying a tray of champagne flutes walking past and she attempted to wave them down.

THOOOM!

A security guard hit the ground directly in front of her, having leapt down from the rafters. She yelped and jumped back from the giant eagle, who squared up and posed threateningly, blocking her from proceeding further into the casino.

THOOM! THOOM!

Two more landed next to her on either side. She instinctively reached into her purse, grabbing for her mace. Her hand touched the grip of the pistol she had almost forgotten she’d pilfered from the alley and she shuddered, removing her hand and holding them up complacently instead.

“Kayla Grant?” the first guard to drop asked. Her eyes widened. Had they been expecting her?

“Um, yeah,” she answered, smoothing out her skirt and folding her arms, “I’m here for my friend, Craig Bello?” She glanced between them looking for a sign of recognition, hyper-vigilant for any sign they were going to advance on her.

“He’s in custody. If you come with us, we’ll take you to him,” the first guard replied, gesturing towards the back of the casino. She immediately took a step back from them, distrust filling her.

“No, tell me what’s going on first,” she insisted, “I’m not going anywhere with you until I know where you’re taking me or where he is.”

“This isn’t the place to have that discussion,” the guard dodged her demand cagily, “It will make much more sense if you see for yourself. Come with us and we can...”

“No,” Kayla insisted, fear spiking in her, “You can tell me where we’re going and what you’ve done with him first!” They glanced at each other and the first guard stepped towards her menacingly.

“Well ... let me explain this,” the guard said, leaning close to her. He lifted his wing to scratch his head with a talon and she saw the gleam of his beam pistol holstered in his wingpit, “Your friend got himself into some trouble. If you want to help him, or to just help yourself avoid a painful detention process, you’ll come with us quietly,” panic roiled through her as she considered her options.