By the Time I Get to Pellax

by Keith Dersley

  - 14 -

  The king-pin among the Achelarans, Tarbo, had his hash settled by Kalat Hertig. As soon as he heard that Gugat and his accomplice had been eliminated, Hertig paid the lofty kingpin a visit and garrotted him. It was an easy task, as Tarbo had suspected nothing. With Hertig at his side, Erl Spurgo contacted all the members of Tarbo's mob he could track down. None of them, not even the remaining three red-skinned Achelarans, seemed surprised or unhappy when they realized that Tarbo, Gugat and the other man had been blotted out,. The wiry little popinjay who proposed to take on the leadership did not appear to be a joke so far as any of Tarbo's men were concerned. They were happy to enrol anew under the leadership of Erloch Spurgo. Spurgo now had a good chance to establish himself on Jycona as he had on Pluron. He brought new men in to join those who had previously followed Tarbo, and he moulded them into a tight-knit band. From the outside they looked like a chaotic and unbridled force, but Spurgo taught them to respond to his orders without hesitation by using a combination of ruthlessness and indulgence. He knew how to read people from no matter what planet. The lanky, cherry-skinned Achelarans were the exception, and he soon weeded these individuals out. Two of them he stranded on an asteroid and he got the other thrown into one of the prison hulks, convoys of which were sent sailing on a massive parabola through desolate areas of space. It was not that these gloomy redskins had felt bad because they had lost an Achelaran boss, they were simply impossible to deal with. Pep talks or penalties imposed on them did not make them change their ways any more than they would respond with gratitude to an extra ration of Silerian grog. Spurgo concluded that he could do nothing with them, and as opportunities presented themselves he brought their time in his ranks to a swift end. As well as Tarbo's gang members, Spurgo claimed the Achelaran's holodoll called Mitzi. Kalat Hertig brought her to his hotel room. 'She turned a head or two,' he told Spurgo as he poured them all drinks. Mitzi herself could drink, and even eat, all in the interests of appearing lifelike and 'to provide those little touches required by the connoisseur of android interaction.' 'She even sings, man,' said Kalat. 'Listen, I hope you didn't try her out in the elevator, or anything like that. You didn't have her cooing in your ear?' Hertig reddened. 'Of course not, Erl. You'll find her almost as if untouched.' 'Practically virgo intacta, is that it?' 'No, but, uh, she has been thoroughly fumigated, like. Laundered too, and has had a complete software update since Tarbo, plus a reboot.' 'Pity we can't all get the same, I sometimes think. She's got clean clothes too, yes?' Spurgo shyly looked over at the soft-skinned android. 'Like to get yourself a toy like this, Kal?' 'Who wouldn't?' said Hertig. 'Look at her face,' whispered Spurgo. 'She's even showing embarrassment, man. You'll be lucky if she don't slap your face.' Spurgo had Mitzi programmed to be a secretary, cook, and hostess, all functions she had fulfilled before. He also included a weight-training and martial arts module so he could work out with her. The android, according to the company's website, would rapidly learn by interaction numerous tricks and habits which would delight its owner. Soon the first of the craft he designated Fish Eagle started preying on freighters and passenger craft on the interstellar routes. Around many a gateway and wormhole, Erloch Spurgo began to be spoken of in terms of fear and admiration.

  * * * * * *

  For Lonnie Pascoe it was all a sort of dream, his time with Latonia in Pine Valley. But he found out you get gutter trash even in Pine Valley. After their meal they left the restaurant and were swanning along arm in arm. Lonnie bought himself a comical-looking straw hat while Latonia spent ten minutes dithering between a number of classy-looking headbands offered for sale by a stallholder. The massive, broad-brimmed straw was soon attracting looks, but to Lonnie this was good. He was, after all, a showman. He was known for his top hat of course, but a straw was great in an informal situation. A tough-looking guy came towards them on the pavement and refused to give any ground to let them go by. He had short red hair and a scrubby beard, more jaw than bristles. Lonnie would not have worried for himself, but he was not going to see Latonia slighted. 'Do you intend to take over the whole road, man?' he asked. The guy did not like this rebellious streak, and with a swift blow of the hand which narrowly missed Lonnie's nose, he knocked the straw off the showman's head. Lonnie was nonplussed. He was ready to fight, but this guy was a chunky, mean-looking so-and-so. 'You're with a good-looking a girl you don't deserve, and it will never do,' said the fellow, with a laugh. 'You're out of your league, man, way out. Come over here.' He turned down an alley between two mansions and Lonnie was about to follow him when Latonia jumped in. 'Don't go down there, he's probably got his mates waiting for you,' she said. Fortunately, at that moment a police officer on foot was making his rounds and the bully boy decided to move out before any intervention could be made by the heat. 'Wow, Tonia, you really know what's what,' said Lonnie. He realized how close he had been to getting his lights put out, and she was woman of the world enough to stop him from co-operating with his enemy. It appeared to him to be pure white witchcraft. Maybe she even cared. He took her hand. 'Of course I wasn't going to let a thug like that hurt you,' she said, but something in her voice, the pity probably, didn't hit Lonnie right. He knew what hell it could be to love a woman against the grain, when she is in effect telling you not to bother. On the other hand the lover, especially when he's a showman, is the eternal optimist. They got a flying gondola from Pine Valley back to the taxi-rank for the Tortuga. It was a sort of large alcove cut into a hill with a room nearby where people could also come in by transporter beam if they chose. People were sitting around chatting, happy, tired from enjoying themselves in Krayko City. Kids were overwrought and tearful, some of the younger ones were dozing. Lonnie and Latonia arrived in good time. 'Would you like a sandwich or a drink?' he said. 'You kidding? I'll be on water, powders and pills for the next day or two after that spread we put behind our cravats,' she said with a laugh. 'I will have some iced Krayko champagne though.' Pleased, as he always was when doing something for his idol, Lonnie went into the refectory part of the Embarcation Suite. So much of the stuff at Krayko was real that there were queues everywhere. This was regarded as part of the charm of the place. There were was very little use of replicators, and food was fresh and hot and you had to stand in line to get the chestnuts while they were toasty, or the draught beer while it it was still on tap. The whole Krayko City experience was an exercise in old-time reality and made the little man sentimental about Earth. Conscious of his heritage, he held himself a little more erect than usual, standing in the queue. 'Hey, fucker, I wondered if you would show up here.' Even without the silly straw hat which he had just put among the luggage pods to be returned to the ship, Lonnie found himself recognised. It was the tough guy from Pine Valley. With that short beard and broad, sneering face, he could have been wearing a devil mask.

  - 15 -

  'Are you on the Tortuga?' Lonnie asked the ruffian. 'What's it to you, you want to make something of that now?' said the individual, two or three people ahead of him in the line. Though it was a blow having to deal with this turkey when he thought the guy had disappeared, Lonnie felt a weary acceptance. Your fate is your fate. He had to deal with what he had been too easily delivered from. With hands wide spread as if to show that he had no blade, the aggressor stepped out of the line and invited Lonnie to do the same. Which he did. This time Lonnie launched straight at that charmless face with his two fists at once, a move the fellow was not expecting. The right fist, at least, connected with the fellow's left cheekbone. There were shrieks from the women. Men drew back, interested. Here was the reality of the old Krayko days, the spirit of the pioneers. Was it another show? The guy touched his cheek and looked at his hand. Blood. 'Ha ha! I got some more for you, Jack' said Lonnie, ducking his head back smartly as a haymaker battered the air in front of his nose. I'm more nimble than he is, thought Lonnie, I'll just stay away from his punches and deliver a few of my own. He was hoping that another copper or security guy might come past and deliver him. He was a
showman, not a fighter. 'Small fry like you dry up and blow away in front of me every day of the week,' said Pig-Beard. A cordon of spectators had formed around the two. Among them, Lonnie saw Lupo Venner. Ven nodded and pulled a face, willing him on. Of course, he could not intervene. This was man against man, and primal. This was a real thrill the paying public had not expected. Lonnie took a punch to the gut that bent him over. That was the price for taking in Venner's face too long. Be evasive, he thought to himself as he moved his head back and felt that big fist get too close, fanning the breeze. Pig-Beard did a lot of that, he was not so big on accuracy but had but plenty of power. Old-fashioned haymakers coming in by telegraph. That was going to be his downfall, but at the moment Lonnie had to get his wind back. Another gut punch and the fight would be over. The guy would stomp him before anyone could separate them. Footwork seemed a good idea, and the man from earth could dance like Astaire. Luckily, Pig-Beard seemed intimidated and put off his stroke by the crowd. He looked into it as if he dreaded to see a particular face, or maybe it was just the forces of law and order he was fearful of. Aware of this weakness, Lonnie was smiling from between his two upraised, loosely clenched fists. Boy, did they look small in comparison with Pig-Beard's. 'Help him!' called out a woman's voice. Yes, help him, thought Lonnie, help the underdog. A wash of sympathy came from the crowd. Lonnie dared not look up this time to see who the woman was who had spoken, but then he flicked his eyes across as his opponent took a deep breath and appeared to be gathering his wits. It was a young woman standing with Latonia. He remembered seeing her on the taxi in from the Tortuga. 'Hold on, this is not right,' said a worldly and authoritative voice. Straight up to the side of Pig-Beard strode the robust figure of Hollis Pierpoint. He was wearing a light grey suit and had a hat pushed back over his thinning hair. His sunglasses glinted as he shook his head. 'What do you mean? Let 'em sort it out!' said someone nearby. 'No,' said Pierpoint, sizing up Pig-Beard, 'this guy shouldn't be here.' He consulted a paper from inside his jacket and at that, Pig-Beard ran into the crowd, which scattered before him. Pierpoint's friend Drax ran after him. Lonnie had last seen Drax when they all arrived at Krayko. Latonia came running up to Lonnie and dabbing at his fat lip and well-bruised nose with her handkerchief. The other girl looked on pityingly. 'This is Helen,' said Latonia. 'Hi Helen,' said Lonnie, 'pleased to meet.' 'Pleased, I'm sure,' said Helen, blushing. 'I couldn't catch the guy,' said Drax to Pierpoint, shaking his head and swearing to himself. 'Thanks, Hollis,' said Lonnie, clapping Pierpoint on the shoulder. 'what was the guy, a mass murderer?' 'I don't know,' said Pierpoint. 'But what was that you got out of your jacket, a Wanted poster?' 'Ha ha ha! No, I was bluffing him. This is just an old bill that needs paying. But the guy had a guilty conscience for sure, the way he took off.' 'And thank you too, Drax, for what you did. I was showing him though, wasn't I? Not doing too bad?' 'I'm not sure who was showing whom,' said Drax. Then Venner appeared. Latonia and Helen both turned to look at him, then at each other. 'What did you think of the fight?' asked Lonnie. 'I just saw arms milling about,' said Venner. 'I was way back in the crowd.'

  - 16 -

  The rise of Spurgo in his piratical career was swift and steep. Many typers and vloggers of the day celebrated his life story. It was fashionable to regard him as a prodigy because he was only twenty-one. The gutters of Pluron were starting to look glamorous. The man seemed to have a confidence that most folk believed was found only in the graduates of universities and the Space Academy. When he had the chance, Spurgo contributed to the fog of strangeness that had formed around his name. He had people circulate the rumour that he was the incarnation of one of the trickster gods of Pluron. The more reports there were about him, false ones preferably, the happier he was. He kept building on the knowledge of rocketry that had earned him a living in the garages and body shops of Pluron. The boy had had a flair for piloting and improvising with any vehicle that had so much as a joystick. The number of machines that passed through his hands for a tune-up and modification was enormous. The engine pits and turbine shops were his university. As his father knew, Erl could tinker with anything and make it run. He loved to take things apart. He would rig up the tiny computers in household implements so as to make them misfunction in a way that he considered comical. Erloch Spurgo also studied human and anthropomorphic nature. As a brigand, he made use of chivalry and always tried to show panache. They were part of his tool box. The grown-up Spurgo made it seem like a joke when he took a convoy 'into his custody', and he did not kill except when he was directly threatened. Many said if he ever were taken he could not be charged with any crime of volence because he never fired a plasma slug except in self defence. The trio became famous: Spurgo, his amanuensis and (some believed) lover, the android Mitzi, and the inscrutable Kalat Hertig. Where Hertig came from was anyone's guess. But he was perhaps behind some of Spurgo's stellar reputation because he knew how to ply propaganda. His method was to withhold the truth but not stray too far from it. As for his personal ambitions, Hertig had no desire to be top dog among Spurgo's current mob any more than he had whilst under the domain of Tarbo. (Of course, he had been instrumental in the bringing-down of Tarbo, but in reality that was because he detested the fellow, not because he wanted to get into his shoes.) It was aboard the first ship that he named Fish Eagle that Spurgo came up against a dangerous case of that great force in the world known as retribution. At twenty-one he believed he had a charmed life and could strike without taking much account of anybody's retaliation. The recoil came in the shape of Krain and Doonar, the two gloomy Achelarans he had consigned into the cosmic garbage can. Anybody else might have pulverised them or given them a laser across the throat to spare any future trouble, but Spurgo had said, 'Bye bye, boys,' and abandoned them on an asteroid. There for several months they had festered away with their grievances. Asteroids may move according to many unaccountable and invisible forces. In this case some unforeseeable propulsion or gravitation had as it were shaken down the duo's prison walls. A pair of lanky, single-minded Achelarans were on the loose, and Spurgo knew nothing. Not burdened with any ideas of getting retaliation on behalf of the late Lord Tarbo, these two decided nevertheless to descend with all their available weight on Spurgo, who had destroyed the domain Tarbo had ruled for some years in Kellagad. Spurgo had somehow, in his ignorance of their culture, slighted the sense of honour of these warriors. The Achelarans had a complicated chivalric code. It made them tricky as enemies and unpredictable as friends. Their niceties were too complicated for Spurgo to understand. He had, in his way, dealt fairly with them, and it is true that no one apart from an Achelaran ever seemed to feel that Erloch Spurgo trampled on their inmost and most sacred feelings. Even if he threw you into the dust, he had respect for you as an enemy. You could hate him, but he would respect you and vice versa. Gratuitous insult was unsatisfying to deal out and extremely expensive in the long run. Spurgo had learned that lesson years earlier, back in the schoolyard on Pluron. So it was that after a few early raids and before his reputation had started hitting the high spots, Spurgo saw the first ship to bear the name Fish Eagle attacked while in space by these gloomy Achelarans. The two of them came in on 'Speed Wings' or 'Surfboards' as they were sometimes known. These contraptions were single alloy wings that had to be launched into the black from a space vehicle. They had magnetic limpets that allowed them to attach noiselessly to any ship. The rider leaned, as it were, or surfed through space. Atomic batteries powered the adjustable thrusters which guided the flimsy craft. Two or more of these wings could be linked whilst in flight. The wings had not cost Krain and Doonar as much as the silk-like space suits they had to wear. These had to be tailor-made to fit the lanky Achelarans. One was almost nine feet from helmet to boot sole. Standing on the bridge that day, Spurgo had no idea he was about to be boarded in an ingenious and impertinent raid that had no real right to succeed.

  - 17 -

  Mitzi was at a console that had just been vacated by a senior hand of Spurgo's, a renown
ed thief and a capable crewman. Mitzi was no slouch herself, though. The living doll turned her head as she played with the keys and buttons of the console. 'Captain, I am sure there is an alien presence aboard.' Spurgo looked up. 'Why do you say that?' As soon as Mitzi sat at the console she had run through a number of readings on screen, a practice she routinely followed as she had diagnostic scanning software inbuilt. The technology of the Fish Eagle was inferior to Mitzi's. 'The humidity reading has gone up, so has the avoirdupois of the ship's company, by around 460 pounds.' Spurgo signalled to Hertig and two of the guys who were on security duty. Mitzi's fingers had been flying over the keys again as she searched the corridors with the ship's monitors. 'There are discarded suits in the waste disposal bay.' 'What, the shit hold?' Mitzi cleared her throat. 'Yes, the ship's backside.' A man came running towards the bridge. 'Cap'n, I've just seen Krain.' 'Really?' Spurgo grinned. 'Krain? Where Krain is I don't expect Doonar is far away,' said Hertig. 'That fucking asteroid! You should have listened to me, Erl, and vaporised the pair of them.' An explosion rocked the ship. Screams and smoke came wafting through the stairwell beside the elevator. 'They mustn't get near the coils or the fusion plant,' said Spurgo. The Achelarans would think nothing of blowing themselves to cinders if they could destroy their enemy at the same time. A man hurtled out of the stairwell. 'We killed Doonar, Cap'n. But Krain has got Brett as a hostage.' Brett, the cook, was loved by them all. Spurgo sighed, realizing that the man would in all likelihood have to be sacrificed. 'I'm bringing him down!' someone shouted out of the stairwell and then they saw Brett, with Krain looking over his shoulder. 'Shoot through me, boys!' said Brett, with that old carelessness they knew so well. Spurgo racked his brains. They could supply no answer. There was a rustling beside him and he turned to se the face of Mitzi, registering concern. 'Do not forget that Kalat has good diplomacy skills, especially with the Achelarans,' she said. Spurgo turned. Yes, there stood the ever-cool Kalat Hertig, hair fluffed back, in his scuffed hide jacket with the studs missing. That somehow grounded him, made him seem vulnerable, even likeable, and he knew it. 'Kal, do you want to have a word with him,' asked Spurgo. Hertig nodded. Beside them now stood a half-dozen of the brigands who made up Spurgo's crew. Some had weapons in their hands which, if they went off, could easily pierce the hull and kill the lot of them. 'Mr Krain,' said Hertig, 'why have you come back here? You could have got clean away and no one would have thought the worse. Now you've put yourself in danger.' 'I am where I want to be. I can send you all to Hades and that I fully intend to do.' 'Calm down and we can work something out.' 'You killed Doonar!' Evidently Krain was not the instigator and driving force of this little raid. He must have been following Doonar. He seemed at this moment almost ready to fall in and shake hands all round. But the Achelaran temperament was risky. If you made the wrong move (and you probably would not know what it was), the bugger would regard it as a treat to be able to fry himself with the ship's company alongside. 'What can we give you? A gift, a privilege, your freedom? You can fly away as swift as you came,' said Hertig with a big grin. He moved a little closer. He could see that Brett the cook's eyes were revolving like electric clocks going haywire. The deadly plasma pistol in Krain's elegant, long-fingered mitt threatened rapid depressurisation. The Fish Eagle had no fail-safe compartments and everyone on the ship would feel his blood literally boiling into the blackness of the void. 'The longer he keeps them talking, the better angle I can get for this shooter,' whispered Mitzi. Spurgo saw she had a dart-shooting revolver, the classic weapon for close quarters on a ship. Spurgo was in awe of this android. She was a real problem-solver, and it looked as if here too she would come up with the answer. He knew she would experience no trembling of the wrist at the vital moment. Cannily, she was sizing everything up in nanoseconds. Literally, she could not miss. Even now that pretty little brain of hers was sizing up the movements of the Achelaran, measuring the angles, calculating the trajectory of the dart, its weight, the charge it had behind it and the fatal inner convulsion it would deliver, confident it would not pierce the side of the Fish Eagle if despite everything it missed its target. But before the beautiful doll could make her move, a crewman called Rick O'Keeley shouted a distracting curse into Krain's face, at the same time lunging forward to grip the wrist of the Achelaran with steely fingers. Brett took the opportunity to bellow too, and he stamped on the tall Achelaran's instep. Through the inspiration of these two brigands the mighty Krain was thrown to the deck, weaponless and floundering. Not that this made him harmless. Like the rest of his breed, Krain did not know when to stop, and he began to thrash, kick and bite at the empty air in his frustration. 'This time you had better not maroon him,' said Hertig, darting forward with a laser dart from a rack on the wall which he pushed deep into Krain's chest. With a shout the dying Achelaran went to join his friend Doonar. At that everyone threw their hats at the ceiling, or if they had no hats they punched thin air with their fists like students at a varsity match. As a reward, Spurgo gave O'Keeley his choice of clothes from a shipment they had intercepted some weeks before. First he grabbed a black blazer and charcoal grey trousers, then a white shirt and a red tie. Of course, he immediately slit the sleeves of the jacket four inches and turned them back. He dealt similarly with the trousers and rolled them neatly to the knee. The best thing, to him, was the handsome red, black, and gold badge showing a lion rampant and the poops of three ships on the breast pocket of the blazer. There were also red ribbons around the cuff of the jacket, the insignia of a school prefect. 'Wow, that turned out great after all, thanks to O'Keeley, but it was great to see that you were about to spring into action, Sphinx,' said Spurgo to Mitzi. Happy to see it had all turned out well and that Brett was saved (he too was allowed to choose new finery from the war chest of the Fish Eagle), Spurgo hugged the hunk of silicone. The doll's beautiful face registered pleasure and a blush. There was a brief calculation, and she said, 'I have that emotional module that has not been initiated yet. Would you like to try it out tonight, Captain?' 'No, thank you,' said Spurgo, embarrassed. Hertig had caught the exchange. 'The bridge is yours, Mr Hertig,' said Spurgo, leaving for his quarters. Hertig stared into Mitzi's brown, almond-shaped eyes. 'They were the first boarders the Fish Eagle has dealt with,' she said. 'We may first congratulate ourselves and then find measures to put into place that will prevent a recurrence.'