Fool's Gold: Carson Lyle's War - Part One by Thomas J. Rock
Authors: Thomas J. Rock
Tags: Military science fiction
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like something out of Greek mythology. In a few moments, it had moved back into place perfectly.
Lyle grunted and struggled again, trying to kick Two in the knee caps, anything to get him to release his grip. He needed air!
He saw Two raise an eyebrow and, in that moment, his body seized and froze. Lyle’s grunts turned to panicked squeaks and wheezing. His eyes darted back and forth as he tried to grasp what was happening. It was like all of his muscles had cramped all at once. Pain, on top of the burning in his chest, lit his entire body on fire. He tried to scream, but nothing came out. Lyle felt the grip loosen slightly, but he still couldn't move. Air! His rapid breaths were restricted, but air was flowing. The pained scream that had been building up was finally released. It didn't help.
Two leaned in close. Lyle was baffled and almost horrified by what he saw. Gashes on the man's face, opened by fists, didn't bleed…and they appeared to be sewing themselves closed. No blood. No scars. And the eyes. They were different. There was no sign of a pupil or an iris, but they were moist and fleshy like normal eyes and had what looked like a pattern of circuitry but it...moved.
"What…the hell…are you?" Lyle said, forcing the words through his pain and fatigue.
Two didn't respond.
One stood up, finally, and walked over. Lyle's muscles were still locked in Two's grip.
"You help us. You get your life back," One said. "You don't. You disappear."
"There's another option," Two said.
One looked at his partner.
"We can just let you go."
Lyle grunted.
"Just throw you out in the street. Impounded ship. Revoked credentials. Frozen assets. Someone will find you. Maybe the Grey Corporation will come looking for their cargo? Maybe even the 501st? They'll have some very direct questions for you. What will you tell them?" Two said.
Lyle struggled to get the words past his clenched throat. "Wh…what…if I told them what you want…me…to do?"
"You could do that," Two said. "And whether or not they believed you, your corpse would be found in an alley somewhere." His tone was one of smug satisfaction.
One added, "You'd be dead and the rogues would continue on without answering for wiping out Wagner. Have you forgotten that?"
Two released his grip from Lyle's throat. He immediately dropped to the floor in a crumpled heap at Two's feet, coughing and sucking in deep gulps of air at the same time. Movement crept back into his muscles like a wave of needles washing from his extremities, inward. Lyle laid there for several long moments. He couldn't believe what he was thinking. What they were saying, as much as it sickened him, it was a chance. A chance at...something. A chance to not have to keep one eye over his shoulder everywhere he went. But he was Carson Lyle now, and he did have a good life. He helped people. He was fulfilled in that life.
But Sarah...
Chapter 11
The loss of his wife hit Carson Lyle harder than anything ever could. The first couple of years were the most brutal - trying to cope with the loss and trying to make a living as a hauler at the same time. There was more than one occasion, when he was most down on his luck, where he was a trigger pull away from being with her. He had his service sidearm with its last government issue round in the clip. It seemed fitting that since the Authority caused her death, an Authority-issued gun should finish the job with him.
Laying on the floor with the agents standing over him, Lyle found himself remembering a time when he'd bottomed out and came closest to reuniting with Sarah. It was shortly after he'd met Mad Jack and Betty. He'd only been hauling for a year or so, at the time. Knew everything and still wet behind the ears. Jack had undercut him for a job that was agreed to under the table. It had Lyle on the edge of losing his small ship,
Lyle grunted and struggled again, trying to kick Two in the knee caps, anything to get him to release his grip. He needed air!
He saw Two raise an eyebrow and, in that moment, his body seized and froze. Lyle’s grunts turned to panicked squeaks and wheezing. His eyes darted back and forth as he tried to grasp what was happening. It was like all of his muscles had cramped all at once. Pain, on top of the burning in his chest, lit his entire body on fire. He tried to scream, but nothing came out. Lyle felt the grip loosen slightly, but he still couldn't move. Air! His rapid breaths were restricted, but air was flowing. The pained scream that had been building up was finally released. It didn't help.
Two leaned in close. Lyle was baffled and almost horrified by what he saw. Gashes on the man's face, opened by fists, didn't bleed…and they appeared to be sewing themselves closed. No blood. No scars. And the eyes. They were different. There was no sign of a pupil or an iris, but they were moist and fleshy like normal eyes and had what looked like a pattern of circuitry but it...moved.
"What…the hell…are you?" Lyle said, forcing the words through his pain and fatigue.
Two didn't respond.
One stood up, finally, and walked over. Lyle's muscles were still locked in Two's grip.
"You help us. You get your life back," One said. "You don't. You disappear."
"There's another option," Two said.
One looked at his partner.
"We can just let you go."
Lyle grunted.
"Just throw you out in the street. Impounded ship. Revoked credentials. Frozen assets. Someone will find you. Maybe the Grey Corporation will come looking for their cargo? Maybe even the 501st? They'll have some very direct questions for you. What will you tell them?" Two said.
Lyle struggled to get the words past his clenched throat. "Wh…what…if I told them what you want…me…to do?"
"You could do that," Two said. "And whether or not they believed you, your corpse would be found in an alley somewhere." His tone was one of smug satisfaction.
One added, "You'd be dead and the rogues would continue on without answering for wiping out Wagner. Have you forgotten that?"
Two released his grip from Lyle's throat. He immediately dropped to the floor in a crumpled heap at Two's feet, coughing and sucking in deep gulps of air at the same time. Movement crept back into his muscles like a wave of needles washing from his extremities, inward. Lyle laid there for several long moments. He couldn't believe what he was thinking. What they were saying, as much as it sickened him, it was a chance. A chance at...something. A chance to not have to keep one eye over his shoulder everywhere he went. But he was Carson Lyle now, and he did have a good life. He helped people. He was fulfilled in that life.
But Sarah...
Chapter 11
The loss of his wife hit Carson Lyle harder than anything ever could. The first couple of years were the most brutal - trying to cope with the loss and trying to make a living as a hauler at the same time. There was more than one occasion, when he was most down on his luck, where he was a trigger pull away from being with her. He had his service sidearm with its last government issue round in the clip. It seemed fitting that since the Authority caused her death, an Authority-issued gun should finish the job with him.
Laying on the floor with the agents standing over him, Lyle found himself remembering a time when he'd bottomed out and came closest to reuniting with Sarah. It was shortly after he'd met Mad Jack and Betty. He'd only been hauling for a year or so, at the time. Knew everything and still wet behind the ears. Jack had undercut him for a job that was agreed to under the table. It had Lyle on the edge of losing his small ship,
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