Cutter poured himself another round. “Look at it this way, the reason they’re divorced … you never know, might’ve been her. Hell, she might be hell on wheels, if you know what I mean. Y’know what they say … you never know somebody ‘til you live with them.”
“True,” admitted Tiger.
“Who knows … you might be shuttling damned flatfooted tourists to the Grand Orbital right now just to pay alimony and child support.”
“Jesus, I dunno what sounds worse!” Tiger croaked, downing his shot. Suborbital shuttle jobs were considered the lowest of low for a rocket pilot who deep-spaced. “That or being locked up on Penal One.”
“Women will always be a roll of the dice, bro.” Cutter reached over and poured his old mate another shot, this one more substantial than the last. “Just remember … ain’t no way you’d still be flying the Jenny Lou right now if she was still in your life and you know it.”
“I reckon not.” Tiger hated that the man was right. He’d hated that he’d had to choose. Why was life always hard choices? Why did he feel like he always made the wrong ones?
“You ever see him anymore?” Cutter interrupted his ponderings.
“Cap’n? I see him occasionally up at the service station picking up supplies and shit.”
“I miss the bastard.” This was about as sentimental as Cutter got. “How’s he doing?”
“Physically, he still looks like he could whip a twenty-five-year-old Titans linebacker. He’s startin’ to put on a little around the waist. And most of that’s whiskey.” Tiger shook his head. “We had a drink last time I saw him. ‘Ceptin’ I had a drink and he had two or three. I think leaving town’s bothered him a lot more than he lets on.”
“Fuckin’ Kraut!” Cutter snarled. “I never understood what he saw in that bastard.”
The “Kraut” Cutter was referring to was Otto “Odder” Schmidt, James’ longtime best friend. The two went all the way back to elementary school and shared a love for science, rocketry and space travel. Schmidt’s ancestors had been part of Von Braun’s original Operation Paper Clip team. This group of scientists had been spirited out of Nazi Germany by the U.S. military at the end of World War II. These men and women would go on to lay the groundwork for NASA and the U.S. space program.
Schmidt was a genius in his own right and by high school was already making a name for himself around town. Colleges and universities from all over the world were salivating over him. Many said he would be the next Einstein. Instead, he joined forces with James to help develop the ship that would revolutionize the commercial space industry. The Thor variant-pulse engines and the Moonshine XXXpress fuel cells that powered them would come from the brilliant mind of this local wunderkind.
“They went way back, I reckon. Loyalty’s a funny thing.” He decided to shift the conversation to a lighter direction. “He’s still a rock star, though. Women still go giggly over him whenever he shows up at Joe’s.”
Cutter agreed. “Women love bad boys and fast rockets.”
They do for a while, Tiger thought to himself bitterly. Yet, he remained silent as Cutter continued.
“Still, it’s sad he’s gone from where he once was to now basically runnin’ a trailer park in space.”
“It is sad,” Tiger agreed. “Y’know what he told me last time I saw him? After he’d had himself a few …”
“What?”
“Said the Space Guard had offered him a job.”
“You’re kidding!” Cutter was incredulous.
“Wanted him to get up some sort of posse of sorts. Regulators, I think they used to call them. Hunt down the McDougals.”
“Well now, that definitely comes under the heading of ironic, wouldn’t you say?”
“It gets better. They told him to name his price. Said they’d cover all expenses … whatever it took.”
“What’d he say?”
“Three simple words … go fuck yourselves!”
Cutter let out a hearty guffaw. “Now that’s the Cap’n I used to know and love! Fucking pigs! Good enough for ‘em!”
“Yeah, but those McDougals, they’re a bad lot! They’re not like you and me, trying to make a living and runnin’ a business. They’re psychos. They’re just mad dogs who like to kill and rape as much as they like to steal.”
“Yeah, that ain’t no good!” Cutter agreed.
“Sooner or later somebody’s gonna have to put ‘em down.” Tiger fished out a pack of Martian cigs. “I think the Cap will eventually reconsider.”
“Probably.” Cutter pulled an antique Zippo and leaned over the table to light Tiger’s smoke. “And when he does, will you’ll go traipsing off with him.”
“Probably.” No sense in denying it.
“Like I said, you sentimental types let your emotions get the best of you.”
“Well, y’know, O.D., we can’t all be cold-as-stone hard asses,” Tiger knew he was taking a risk, but he looked his old friend and fellow spacer in the eye. “There was a time even you used to believe in loyalty,” Tiger chided gently. “In friends.”
“Yeah well, we all change … we get older and wiser. We do what we have to,” Cutter looked away for just a second and then came right back to meet Tiger’s gaze. “We can’t be kids forever. You see where loyalty got the Cap.” Cutter’s face turned hard and nasty. “He was loyal to that fuckin’ Nazi … and now he’s gone!”
Here we go again. “I don’t think Schmidt was a Nazi.”
“His ancestor was a Nazi! Bastard worked for Hitler!”
“Yeah, but then he came over here to work for us. He helped develop our space program.”
“Right! Our nation’s space program was created by Nazis!”
“Well, I can’t argue that. They played a major role …”
Cutter tapped his temple
