Sullivan Saga 1: Sullivan's War by Michael Rose Page B

arriving that law and order meant something different to the Bureau agents there. The planet was still young and rough, and like the non-SA planets in the neighboring star systems, sloth, corruption and kickbacks were a way of life.
    Allen had worn himself ragged trying to get Calandra’s Bureau to secure passage to Abilene. They complained of budgeting restraints, questioned his authority to make such a request, but Allen knew the real reason was that there was nothing in it for them. They had hinted that Allen might give them some of the credits the Bureau had allotted him to cover their operational expenses, but he refused. He would take no part in enriching these corrupt agents.
    Allen and Wagner eventually resorted to loitering at the commercial spaceport, trying to find a cargo ship on its way to Abilene. After a week of this, they finally secured passage aboard a ship that was loading a cargo of Dacian whiskey. Dacia had grown rich exporting their unique twist on standard grain whiskey, which included a slightly toxic extract from a plant native to the planet. The numbing effect of the extract was popular among a certain segment of the population, and shipments to Calandra and Abilene were frequent.
    In exchange for passage, they’d had to barter the four bulletproof vests, two of the bioscanners and most of the drugs from their medical kits. The freighter pilot had refused to take their SA credits. It became clear that he was often on the wrong side of the law and didn’t want a digital trail linking him to the Bureau.
    As Allen boarded the freighter, he took with him the vow that he’d see the agents in charge of Calandra’s Bureau office fired for their corruption and non-cooperation. Still, it irked him that it was likely to be a year or more before his report was filed, a decision was reached and word was sent from Earth to Calandra. For all that time, they’d be collecting Bureau paychecks and further enriching themselves by taking bribes.
    It was about a month from Calandra to Abilene. Allen had long ago come to resent this mission. So what if Sullivan got away? His actions had exposed corruption at the highest levels of government and led to dozens of arrests. He’d talked to Wagner, Takemitsu and Ives, and they were all in agreement. The mission was a wild goose chase. They’d make their investigation on Abilene as quick as possible and get home.
    The trip from Earth to Calandra had done wonders for Allen and Wagner’s relationship. With little to do for three months, they had enjoyed all the benefits of interstellar travel aboard a passenger liner: the spas, the nightly entertainment, the five-star restaurants. But now, in the cramped quarters of a slow and outdated freighter that smelled distinctly of yeast, Allen grew tense and impatient. Their host was curt and unaccommodating, and the crew berths were small and uncomfortable. He never imagined he’d look forward to landing on a planet like Abilene, but when that day came he pushed past the captain to breathe the air of Abilene’s atmosphere and clear the smell of yeast from his nostrils.
    It wasn’t much of an improvement. Allen surveyed the surroundings. Abilene was a small, hot desert planet less than point eight astronomical units from its star. The heat seemed to radiate both from the sun above and the ground below. What passed for a spaceport was little more than a three-kilometer-long stretch of cracked asphalt lined with warehouses. Row upon row of dumpsters lined the walls of the warehouses, and it was from these that Allen guessed the stench was emanating.
    Wagner exited behind him and held her nose. “Jesus, no wonder these people drink a lot,” she said as the ship’s freight door slowly opened, revealing the stacked crates of Dacian whiskey.
    Allen nodded. “Let’s get the hell out of here and find Abilene’s security chief.” He turned to the freighter pilot. “Hey, how do I get to the planet’s security