by Ward Wagher
“That's why I'm paying you the big C's, George. You can sleep when this is over with. That's what Smith & Jones will be doing.”
“Let me get busy, then,” Liston said.
“Greet the lovely Pamela for me.”
“I will. See you tomorrow.” And he disconnected.
CHAPTER SIX
Cedric Smith stepped into Frank Nyman's office on the second floor of the Nyman Trans-Space building. Frank was scowling as he reviewed accounts on his comp term.
“Jones found you a house, I think,” Smith said. “Say the word and I can arrange a viewing.”
“If we don't generate some business soon, Cedric, the only thing I'll be able to afford is the poor house.”
“These things take time, Skipper.”
“It's been three weeks. I'm on the hook for two freighters, and I've got two crews on the payroll. My stomach feels like I've been eating ground glass.”
“I thought you were a bit off your feed,” Smith said. “Do you want me to find you a doctor?”
“Naaah. This always happens to me when I start worrying about the business. If I let the bottoms chew up all my capital, there won't be anything left for Franklin when I finally depart this universe.”
“Skipper, you don't need to worry about that for another hundred years, near enough,” Smith said.
“I won't need one hundred years to lose my fortune, at the rate I'm going I won't last the year.”
The receptionist tapped on the door. “Excuse me, Mr. Nyman, there's a Woogie in the lobby.”
Stephanie Howard had arrived upon George Liston's recommendation, and had quickly become indispensable to Frank. The medium height twenty-something brunette was not only attractive in an understated way, but seemed instinctively able to run an office.
“What's a Woogie doing in the lobby?” Frank asked.
“I don't know, Sir, I think you need to talk to it.”
Frank looked at Smith and shrugged. “I guess let's go talk to Stephanie's Woogie.”
“It is not my Woogie,” Stephanie said firmly. “They are kind of creepy.”
Frank stood up and walked towards the doorway. “They don't scare me as badly as the Dimatons or Dimatae, whatever you call them.”
“At least the dimatae stay in the water,” she said as she retreated down the stair. “And they don't stink.”
Smith grinned and followed Frank out of the office.
“Got cargo got ship?”
The words coming from the Vocoder were Anglo, but without inflection and meter, they were hard to understand. The four-foot high being had five arms and five legs in a radial arrangement, but from a human perspective the strangest aspect of the Woogie was the single, four inch, human-appearing, blue eye. Not to mention the hot pink color. And the smell. The aroma of stinkweed and menthol filled the office.
“Hello, I'm Frank Nyman, may I help you?”
Stephanie, having accomplished her task, retreated to the other office on the lower floor.
“Too real, I am not helped. But I am Spanky,” the Woogie said. “Got cargo got ship?”
“Errr,” Frank temporized. “I have a ship, but I do not have cargo.”
“Woogie got cargo. Need ship.”
“Okay, I understand. Yes, I have a ship available.”
“Want to ship chemicals. Twenty-five flotzen. Woogie package. You ship.”
“What is the destination? When do you need to ship the cargo?” Frank asked.
“Destination is Woogaea. Cardiff-II. Need to ship soon.”
Frank studied the little creature for a few moments.
“What is the cubage of your shipment?” he asked.
“Twenty pallets. Standard. You ship? What charge?”
“Assuming I have other cargo, I can do it for 500 Centaurans per ton.”
“Have other cargo?”
“Not yet. We can sail whenever we reach eighty percent capacity.”
“When?”
This little pink hombre is persistent, Frank thought. I have no idea when I'll get the rest of the cargo. I hope he doesn't walk out of here.
“I am not sure. I would be happy to reserve deck space for you and refund it if we cannot ship within your time requirements.”
“Important to ship now.” While the vocoder delivered the phrases in monotone, the speed of the speech indicated some urgency on the part of the Woogie.
“Unless you want to charter the entire freighter for the trip, I probably cannot help you.” Frank said. He is going to walk. I just know it.
“The Woogie find more cargo,” Spanky said. “Don't go away.”
The Woogie thrummed out of the building on his five legs / tentacles and headed back towards the upper city with surprising speed. Frank and Smith stepped out of the office to watch him.
“What do you make of that, Skipper?” Smith asked.
“I don't know for sure, but I think things are looking up.”
As they watched, there was a disturbance in the water and suddenly Charlie the Dimaton rose up out of the water.
“Uh, oh,” Frank said.
Spanky came to a sudden halt to study the water beast. Then it sidled over to the edge of the boardwalk and started stroking the Dimaton with one of its arms / tentacles. The Woogie's ruptured plumbing sounds carried clearly over to the two men.
“That's... different.” Smith said.
Frank shook his head. “I'll tell ya, Smith, just when you think you've seen it all...”
“Yes, but having a Woogie come in is a stroke of luck. I think he's going to find you some cargo, Skipper.”
“I was thinking the same thing, but I've learned not to count my chickens..”
“You got that right. We going calling on exporters again this afternoon?” Smith asked.
“Let's go get some lunch. Maybe we can go over to Rapunzel's. That way Stephanie can come find us if the Woogie returns.”
Rapunzel's specialized in Italian fare. The food was decent and close to the office. They had become familiar with the restaurant's owner over the past couple of weeks of frequent dining.
Elias Rooste, the owner, personally took them to their regular table.
“And here we go, sirs. Your server will be with you shortly.”
“Same table again, Elias?” Frank asked.
“Yes, Sir. Is something not satisfactory?” His face wrinkled up into his bald pate in concern.
“Oh, it's fine. I like the privacy of the corner booth.” Frank replied.
Rooste looked much relieved. “Oh, that is very good, then, sirs. I usually hold this table in the expectation of your regular visits.”
“That's very kind of you, Elias, but I don't expect you to go to a lot of trouble just for me.”
“Oh, it's no trouble at all. I truly like to keep my regular clients happy.”
“In that case, I appreciate your service.”
Rooste bowed. “Your server will be here presently, Gentlemen.”
As the owner moved away, Frank leaned back in the booth. “So, Cedric, how big is the Woogie community in Gustav?”
Smith scratched his head, and then stared as the server walked up to the table.
“What may I bring the gentlemen to drink?”
“Water with lemon,” Frank said.
“The same,” Smith said.
“Very good, Sirs.”
“What's the problem, Smith?” Frank asked as the waiter walked away.
“You didn't recognize him?”
Frank gazed at the departing waiter. “No, I missed that, somehow.”
“That's our friend Fillbee; from our first day here.”
“The highwayman?”
“One and the same.”
“I didn't make the connection, Cedric. Do you think he recognized us?”
Smith shook his head. “I don't think so.”
“Then let's not remind him of it. I think you and Jones might want to do a little follow-up work. This could give you a lead into a part of
society here we don't have a handle on.”
“Good idea, Skipper.”
The server gave careful service during the meal, and betrayed nothing unusual. At the end of the lunch he brought the check.
“Here you go, Sirs. Mr. Rooste said you could just sign the check and settle up with him at the end of the month. He does that with all his regular customers.”
Frank took the opportunity to carefully study the waiter. The youth looked to be in his late teens. He was tall with an unruly shock of black hair and a beak of a nose. He was dressed neatly and the tag on his shirt had the word Fillbee.
“You've done a good job for us today, Fillbee,” Frank said. “Do you have a last name?”
“Yes, Sir. It's Murdock.”
“Very good then,, Mr. Murdock. Do we leave a tip with you, or add it to the check?”
“Either way is fine, Sir. Mr. Rooste said I should not insist.”
“Thank you Fillbee,” Frank said. He wrote a tip on the check and scribbled his signature.
As they walked out of the restaurant Smith spoke. “I'll have Jones on him when he leaves work tonight.”
“Just watch and gather information,” Frank said.
“Understood, Skipper.”
When they returned to the office, Spanky was waiting outside.
“The human said to wait here. I wait,” the Woogie said.
Stephanie probably couldn't stand the smell, Frank thought. “Well, come on up to my office. We have business to discuss, right?”
“To discuss cargo and shipment. Too true. The Woogie has a deal.”
Frank wondered how a five-legged being with radial symmetry would negotiate the stairs. The answer was very well, indeed. Spanky followed Frank up the stairs and into his office.
“I'm going to sit down,” Frank said. “Please make yourself comfortable.”
“To be honored. The Woogie is settled.”
Frank pondered the statement. Woogies could be devastatingly logical, but there were vast opportunities for miscommunication with humans.
“So, Spanky, tell me about the deal.”
“Woogie have a deal. Full cubage for freighter. Need passenger space for six Woogies. Bonus for immediate departure.”
Frank stared at the upper corner or his office as he rapidly calculated in his head. Then he looked over at Smith. “Cedric. Call Captain Plimpton and have him prepare to take on cargo and passengers.”
“At once, Sir,” Smith said. He walked out of the room.
Frank looked at the Woogie. “Two thousand Centaurans for each passenger. Since you are giving me a full load, I will discount to 400 Centaurans per ton. You said something about a bonus?”
“Ten thousand Centaurans if ship leaves in 48 hours,” the Woogie said.
“Just a moment, please,” Frank said. He stood up and walked to the door. “Smith! Tell Plimpton he's got to haul gravs in 48 hours. No excuses.”
Frank walked back behind his desk and sat down again. “There is one item that is slightly sensitive.”
“Woogie a sensitive guy,” Spanky said.
Frank looked around the room again as he thought about the statement. “Yes, well, you are asking us to put this deal together in a hurry. Is there anything about the cargo I need to know about?”
The pale blue Woogie eye studied Frank for perhaps fifteen seconds as Spanky pondered the question.
“To ask if the Woogie is illegal?”
“Uh. Yes, I guess that is what I am asking.”
“The Woogie gets tall bonus for delivered cargo. Chemicals from New Stockholm seawater. Woogie honest. Woogie does good business. You not like Woogie?”
“I like you just fine, Spanky. Most Woogies are honest and honorable.”
“Not many bad Woogies. Woogie a good Woogie.”
I guess I've got to take his word for it. How would I even know if he was trying to set me up. I'll have Jones do some quiet checking.
“I guess we have a deal, then,” Frank said.
“To have a deal. Good job well done.”
Spanky stuck out an arm / tentacle. “To Shake on good deal.”
Frank took the proffered hand(?). Spanky shook it vigorously. Rather than slimy, as it appeared to be, the Woogie's hot pink skin was dry and slightly scratchy.
“To see you at the port,” the Woogie said. “Cargo, passengers to load. Not soon enough.” And he rotated on his vertical axis and skittered out of the office.
Smith walked in, looking bemused. “So we got one freighter locked up. Not a bad day's work, Skipper.”
“Yeah, but now we got to deliver. Let's get to the starport. I can call George while we're on the way.”
He picked up the desk-communicator. “Stephanie, we will be at the starport the rest of the day, and maybe tomorrow. You can reach us at George Liston's office.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Sarah's Star boiled up out of the eastern ocean, greeting the day with an orange reflection in the high clouds. Frank and George stood outside the chandler's office at the starport, each sipping a cup of coffee.
“Another nice day, looks like,” George said.
“They're all nice,” Frank replied. “If this planet has any bad weather, I haven't heard of it. And I've asked around.”
“Without a moon, the only tides we have are from Sarah. That's not enough to affect the weather patterns. If you go down to the Old Town, and look at the docks, you maybe can measure two or three inches change in the water level.”
“That's probably a good thing,” Frank chuckled. “One decent wave would wash away our tourist trap.”
At the sound of heavy vehicles, the two men turned towards the entrance to the starport.
“George, do you have the lift capacity for all that?” Frank asked George Liston.
They stood and watched as twelve cargo lorries rolled through the gate.
“Of course not, Frank. I'm not in that business.”
“Then who have the Woogies hired to move their loot?”
“Don't know. There's just not that much lift capacity on planet, that I know of.”
Frank rubbed his chin as he watched the caravan. “I hope Spanky hasn't made some unwarranted assumptions. We might all be in trouble.”
A small jitney swung past the trucks and drove up to the office. The door opened and six Woogies climbed out, one after another.
“I think I'm glad we're outside,” Liston said out of the corner of his mouth.
“Too right,” Frank said. “Aromatic is an understatement.”
Another Woogie climbed from behind the controls and skittered around to where the two men stood.
“I greet you, Mr. Frank,” the Woogie said through its vocoder.
“Um. I greet you, Spanky.” I hope I'm reading this right. I can't tell one of these stumps from the other.
“Cargo arrived. Woogies arrived. Let's go.”
Uh oh, Frank thought, I think the wheels are coming off.
“Spanky, have you arranged for lightering?” Frank asked.
“What is this lightering?” the Woogie responded.
Liston rolled his eyes and slipped back into the office.
“You need to make arrangements to transport your cargo to the freighters in orbit,” Frank carefully explained. “You remember I told you that was your responsibility?”
Spanky stood very still and stared at Frank. An odor of vanilla infused the air. He was wondering what to say next when the Woogie spun around and began communicating with the other Woogies, using rumbles, squeals, and explosions of strange odors. Smith stepped out of the office.
“What's going on, Skipper?”
“Our friend didn't realize he was responsible for lightering.”
Smith nodded towards the conflabulating Woogies. “Reminds me of break time in a men's room.”
Frank choked. “Don't get me laughing. They wouldn't understand. I have a feeling we're going to have to sort this out for them.”
The wild Woogie conversation
continued for several minutes, then gradually died down. Spanky turned back around and motored over to Frank.
“Woogie screwed.”
Frank looked at Smith. “Get George back out here.”
He turned to the Woogie. “These things happen, Spanky, let me work on getting the cargo up to the ships. I'll have to charge you for that, but I'll do it at my cost. But I want the shipment bonus anyway.”
The Woogie flooped and waved his tentacles around, then turned and communicated with his peers. He turned back to Frank again.
“Too kind, the Frank. Not extra money for this lightering.”
“Are you saying you don't have the money, or you don't want to spend it?”
“To spend, yes. But not have.”
Frank stuck his hands in his pocket and paced back and forth. Liston stepped back outside.
“Don't go away and hide again, George. I'm trying to get us some business.”
“Yeah, well, when Woogies get excited like that, I'm afraid one of them will pull out a Woogie-Whacker. I don't want to experience that.”
“They're not going to pull out a Woogie-Whacker, George. Spanky just made a minor miscalculation.”
“Minor miscalculations for Woogies usually involve things like exploding starships and supernovas.”
Frank turned back to the flustered Woogie. “Will you be able to pay me when the cargo arrives at Woogaea?”
“Yes. Darn tootin' for sure. Woogie will get money from the nest.”
“George, what is available here for lift?”
“Just two cargo shuttles, and that's assuming they are available,” Liston said.
“Fine, go lock them up for me. Smith, call Plimpton and Müden. Have them get their shuttles down here, like right now.”
“Gotcha Skipper. Will do,” Smith said.
“Spanky,” Frank said, “I am going to pull your chestnuts out of the fire. Danica Maiden, my freighter, will break orbit on time, or somewhere close to it. And your cargo will be aboard.”
“The Woogie thanks you. What is a chestnut?”
§ § §
“Good Heavens, what a day!” Frank exclaimed.
“No argument there,” George Liston said.
They, along with Pamela Liston, were seated in a booth at Mundy's – a restaurant specializing in cuisine from the planet Harmony. Pamela was a tall, thin brunette. She was fully George's height, but lacked his bulk.