RangeDay

Chapter 3

note – picking up right where the previous chapter left off

They stopped in the parking lot of her apartment. Before she could open the door he hit the central doorlocks.

"Do you want to explain to me what you meant by that comment earlier?"

He sounded a little dark, as if he was annoyed, or maybe what she had said was bothering him somehow. A year ago she would have gone into a panic with the thought she had pissed him off. Now she just wondered what he thought to get for an answer, and what kind she wanted to give him.

"Which one?"

"What I was getting out of 'being all nice to you'."

Oh. The margaritas forced the answer from her lips before she could help herself.

"Well usually there's a deal going on when you do that sort of thing."

Something unidentifiable washed over his face before the blank expression returned.

"I told you that there's no price for what we give each other, babe."

"You also said you were a mercenary and that everything is a deal with you. Which one is it?"

"I was…" he gestured as if to pluck the words from the air, "I am—"

Wow, Ranger speechless. That was new. A little startling, too. He was always so in control.

"Maybe we should, should, should talk about this some other time," she said, stumbling over her words. The look in his eyes was unnerving her. "Probably this is not so good with me all margarita-y and you… you…"

"I don't always know what to say, babe," he said suddenly with what seemed almost like a sad smile. "And sometimes when I think I do, it's the wrong thing."

She didn't know what to say to that, and before she could try for words he suddenly leant in and kissed her, just a brush of his lips. A slow shiver crawled its way down her spine, full of arousal and confusion. Then he pulled back and smiled at her.

"You're right. We'll talk Monday, okay?"

She nodded, feeling light-headed with the kiss and the sudden changes in his behaviour. Okay, probably the alcohol had something to do with it as well. The locks clicked open.

"I'll have your car dropped off tomorrow morning. Wave at the window when you're okay up there."

"Goodnight," she whispered before she let the car door fall shut, wondering what the hell had just happened. When she got into her apartment she had a quick look around, then opened the curtain to signal she was okay. The Cayenne drove off and she closed the curtains again, suddenly too tired to do more than kick off her shoes and crawl under the covers.

She didn't wake until noon and didn't feel bad about it for a second. Unlike in her skiptracing days, her weekends were all hers. Well, except for Saturday dinner at her parents. Her job at RangeMan paid enough to cover the rent without worries, keep her fridge full and her twice-monthly (and anytime she felt the impulse) shopping trips to Macy's without cares. There was no need to spend the weekends staking out or puzzling about skips.

Sometimes she did anyway, in Lula's apartment with a load of fast-food and some cheesy movie. She hadn't gone with Lula on a takedown since the Stiva incident, but she still enjoyed the tracing element of the work.

Last time Lula needed help, Ranger had sent Hal to help out. Stephanie suspected that they were seeing each other now, because Lula wasn't saying anything about it. Since Lula openly drooled over any man she considered hunk-material, this was probably telling.

It made Stephanie smile, because Hal wasn't saying anything either, and she hoped that meant those two were enjoying themselves together. He was a good guy and Lula deserved someone who appreciated her for what she'd become, not looked down on what she'd been.

She showered until the bathroom resembled a sauna, fixed hair and makeup, and dressed in jeans, T-shirt and fleece jacket. Time to be domestic. There were no more grapes for Rex and the fridge was starting to grow empty. Even with the whole self-improvement thing, Ranger had never told her to eat better. Or rather, never more than he had before.

It was just… well at some point a couple of weeks ago she had started to notice these cravings. Not for sugar or chocolate or icecream, but for weird things like cheese, mustard, runny eggyoke and plain yoghurt. Things she'd never cared for before.

After the initial pregnancy scare (more of a pregnancy panic, really) she had mentioned it to Tsuy, who had remarked that maybe her body was trying to tell her something.

"What would it want to say?"

"That you're not giving it what it needs?"

Uh oh, that was usually the beginning of a lecture. At least, with Ranger it was. Tsuy just gave her a look.

"I'm not your life-coach. If you want to eat like you do, I'm not going to stop you. I certainly don't plan to be your enforcer."

Stephanie had shrugged, oddly tickled by the idea that she wasn't being pushed.
"Let's say that I'm trying to learn to listen to myself. What would you recommend?"

"I'm not going to advise you, because I mainly eat rice and I have no idea about western diets. But I can send you to a friend who gives dietary advice."

Grimace. Diet. Not a good word.
"I'm not exactly Miss Willpower. I'm not up for radical changes and health-food and stuff.."

Nor for breaking the sugar habit. The last thing she needed while she tried to take control of her life was to turn into a raging nymphomaniac.

"The man who moves a mountain begins by carrying away small stones.
Successful diets don't give you the feeling that you're giving up a lot, or you'd never stick to them. He's pretty realistic."

Xander had turned out to be a weather beaten man with grey, tied-back hair. In his late fifties, also did acupuncture. A New Age man.

They had decided together that she didn't really need to lose weight and that she just needed better eating habits. Then he'd given her some pointers for healthier eating, a small cookbook with stirfry recipes, and the assurance that she shouldn't try to break her sugar habit, just bring it under control.

As she pushed a trolley through the supermarket Stephanie reflected that it was working. Stirfrying was a great way to cook – chop it all up, toss it in the wok, stir until done. No recipe needed, really. Her mother wouldn't approve of it as it wasn't Proper Burg Home Cooking, but it was a hell of a lot healthier than Pino's or MacD's and she was beginning to enjoy her 'does this go together?' experiments. Especially with the enormous supermarket selection of sauces to spice up the stirfry meals. And it wasn't like she had stopped with the fastfood completely… but lately her self-cooked meals outnumbered the times she ate fastfood.

Ranger didn't know about the latest item in her self-improvement scheme, and for some reason she wanted to keep it that way. She wasn't changing for him, and she didn't want to give him that idea.

Why not? She had no idea. Maybe because it felt like he had so much power over her already. She didn't like to give him the idea that she was doing this for him, because she really wasn't.

Staring at the packaged chicken breast it suddenly occurred to her that she was doing all these things now because Tsuy gave her the feeling that she was doing them for herself. No pushing, no indication that certain things would or would not disappoint her – she just offered options.

Ranger often got her to do things because she didn't like disappointing him. He knew it and made use of it. In a way it made her feel a little like a child anxious to please, and worried to take home a bad report card.
She did look up to him in certain aspects, but like a teenager resenting pressure she also rebelled, only carried the gun because he forced her, sometimes even – she was ashamed to admit it to herself now – took risks just to prove to herself that she could, that she was independent, that he wasn't always right.

Ridiculous really. No matter how it had grown to be this way, she vowed at this moment, in front of the cheese displays, to make it stop.

Waiting at the checkout a rebellious thought rose: was Tsuy talking to Ranger about things like diet, reading, training? Was she still being shaped, just in a more subtle way?

As she loaded the shopping into her new second-hand car she shook her head. Enough with the paranoia and puberty thoughts. Tsuy was being a good teacher, and starting to become a friend. And she could always ask if Ranger was receiving progress reports or not.

Speaking of progress reports… she wondered if the Merry Men were using the grapevine as a way to find out about rangeday. The network was infamous for carrying everything and anything that could be of interest, and though not all of them were tapped into it, she couldn't imagine that nobody would try.

Best to keep her most talkative friends out of the loop, then. Or perhaps, since there was no way Connie and Lula would accept not being told anything, she could use them to spread some tactical misinformation.

The thought of lying to her friends wasn't comfortable, but to let them know her true plans – providing she would actually have some, minor detail that – would be a sure way of letting the entire Burg know. She might as well rent one of those little airplanes with a banner behind it.

It was with that thought in mind that she evaded the subject during dinner with her parents. When Grandma Mazur asked about it, she only mentioned that she was considering mountainbiking, and changed the subject.

When she got home she rang Tsuy. A voice she didn't recognise answered in Japanese. Background noise of a car on the highway.

"Erm, hello? Is this Tsuy's phone?"

Some quick talking in the background on the other side, then the unfamiliar voice came back, clearly unused to the English language.

"One… moment.. please."

Some shuffling sounds and then finally:

"Tsuy."

"Hiya, it's Stephanie. Is this a bad moment?"

"Not at all. Sorry about that, my great-aunt speaks little English. I have you on headset now."

"Just called to let you know that I have someone to come along wednesday. Tank is looking forward to it."

She could almost hear the smile on the other side of the line.

"That is good, I will not have to bribe a cousin now."

"I also have a question…"

"Go ahead."

"I'm organising the company outing of RangeMan, and I'm trying to keep it a secret from everybody."

"Ambitious plan."

Stephanie burst into laughter at that dry assessment.
"You're telling me! I wanted to ask for your help with keeping it secret."

"What did you have in mind?" curious tone. Sounded as if Tsuy liked the idea as well.

"A postal address that I can have information sent to without anyone seeing it."

"You can use mine. Do you have email?"

She gave it, smiling as Tsuy said something in Japanese and then repeated the address letter for letter, apparently so her great-aunt could write it down.

"I'll send you my postal address and some more stuff. Is your email secure?"

"It's been declared out-of-bounds for spying."

"Ah, so there are rules to this. That's good. I'll send that email when I get home in an hour or so."

Stephanie disconnected with a smile. Not only did she now have a secure place to receive mail, she also had an ally.

So, the plan for keeping rangeday secret was starting to take shape. Now she just needed to figure out what rangeday would actually be…

One of her best ideas so far was a racing day at an actual track. The guys would definitely appreciate that sort of thing and she had more or less equal chances because it wasn't strength based. It was a little heavy on the budget, but if she didn't make dinner too crazy – and who wanted to serve the Merry Men haute cuisine anyway? – it was possible.

The only problem would be the possibility of a car blowing up… Not something she thought she would ever live down.

"What do you think, Rex?"

He came out of his soup can to accept the grape and then scurried to hide the loot.

"Yeah, I think so too," she sighed.

She jotted the idea under the header 'cool, but—' and sat staring out of the window. Ella had mentioned that it was a good idea to have at least something tiring during the day, or the guys would be hyperactive all night and no restaurant was thrilled about entertaining a group of hyperactive musclemen.

"Like when you want kids to behave themselves during dinner, you have to let them blow off steam first." She had said.

It made sense, but it didn't make her decisions any easier. With any other company group she'd find a really cool survival run/assault course, but that was the sort of thing that they were guaranteed to be extremely good at. It would set her apart as the office girl, and though she never pretended to be as good or as experienced as they, she wanted to feel like she was part of the team.

Her laptop dinged with an incoming email.

from: yatsumi.tsuyiko at dojomail
to: bombshell at rangeman
subject: Sun Tzu and the Art of Organising Corporate Outings

Stephanie,

Attached to this email you will find a decent translation of Sun Tzu's 'The Art of War'. The man was a master tactician and is well worth reading. Since I know you're not going to read it, let me give you some quotes…

"Supreme excellence consists in breaking the enemy's resistance without fighting."

"All warfare is based on deception. Hence, when able to attack, we must seem unable; when using our forces, we must seem inactive; when we are near, we must make the enemy believe we are far away; when far away, we must make him believe we are near. Hold out baits to entice the enemy. Feign disorder, and crush him."

And last… does this remind you of anyone?

"Be extremely subtle, even to the point of formlessness. Be extremely mysterious, even to the point of soundlessness. Thereby you can be the director of the opponent's fate."

The postal address is in the signature. See you Wednesday.

Tsuy

Yikes. That sounded like Ranger slept with this book under his pillow. Curious now, she opened the attachment.

Half an hour later she went to bed, leaving the rest of the book for the Sunday. She'd expected it to be ancient, dry writing full of directions on how to launch an attack and how to organise a defence. Instead, it was short, to the point and extremely practical.

'You can be sure of succeeding in your attacks if you only attack places which are undefended. You can ensure the safety of your defence if you only hold positions that cannot be attacked.'

Combined with advice about besieging cities that sounded as if it was learned from personal experience – under no circumstance lay siege to a city – she could almost see the General sitting in his tent at the end of a long day, nursing a cup of hot tea, penning down advice for those newer to warfare.

Heh. Maybe she should write a book as well. The Art of Bountyhunting. It would hold advice such as

'If an FTA is near a garbage can and you engage him, you will inevitably find yourself rolling in garbage. Create another opportunity to take him down.'

And

'The clever bountyhunter avoids the use of a stungun unless she has brought backup to carry the stunned skip into the car.'

And

'A bountyhunter must adapt to the situation. If the skip is drunk, lie to him. If he is violent, bring backup. If he is likely to flee, cut off his escape routes. If he is armed, wear a vest. If he is in a bar, wear a skirt. If he is holed up, create a division to flush him out. And finally, if he is impossible to take, do not engage.'

She fell asleep with a smile.

(to be continued)