The Criminal Streak

by Joan Donaldson-Yarmey

  Conni pushed herself up and as she did she reached into her sleeve for her knife. She pointed it at Shela. “I think it’s about time we decided this,” she said, menacingly.

  “Are you two still fighting in here?” Mat asked from the doorway.

  “Mat.” Conni quickly concealed her knife then sauntered to the doorway. She wrapped her hands around the bars. “So you’ve finally come to sample the merchandise.”

  “I’ve come to discuss a business deal with you.”

  “With me?” Conni asked, delighted.

  “With you and Shela.”

  “Oh.” Conni’s happiness disappeared.

  “What kind of deal?” Shela asked.

  “Come on over so that I don’t have to yell and I’ll tell you,” Mat said.

  Shela went to stand beside Conni, careful not to touch her. “So what is it?”

  “I’ve been asking around and there are a lot of guards who want to come and visit you girls. I’ve told them that I’m your hustler and they have to go through me.”

  “Yeah?” Conni asked. “And where are they going to get the money? I heard no one was getting paid until they returned home.”

  “A lot of them were smart enough to bring some money along for their visits to stop over planets.”

  “That does us no good,” Shela said.

  “Well, I’d give you your payment in liquor and tobacco.”

  “Tobacco?” Conni asked excitedly. “Where did you get tobacco?”

  “A police officer on the transport Condoren smuggled a bunch of tobacco and pipes on board. He’s selling them to anyone who can pay him.”

  “So you’re going to find us customers and use their money to buy us tobacco and liquor. What do you get?”

  “Well, naturally I’ll be taking a cut for my time and trouble.”

  “Yes, I’m sure you will,” Shela said wryly.

  “The deal is a good one. You’ll each get paid the same amount for every customer you have.”

  “Does that include my girls’ customers?” Conni asked.

  “You get paid per customer. Who you get to do the work is up to you, but if you use one of your girls you pay her out of your cut.”

  “And how much do we get?”

  “I’ll give you half a bottle of liquor or half a packet of tobacco for each customer.”

  “We should get a full bottle or a full packet per customer,” Conni said.

  “Not if you want to deal with me.”

  “What about the pipes?” Shela asked.

  “You’ll get them and some tobacco as a bonus for making this deal.”

  “How come you’re not afraid of getting caught like you were in the prisons?” Conni asked.

  “No one really cares here. All they’re interested in is getting you to the planet and getting home again.”

  Mat gave them a few minutes to think it over then rubbed his hands together. “So. Are we partners?”

  Conni and Shela looked at each other. Neither one wanted to be the first to admit she would work with the other.

  “Come on,” Mat said. “It’ll be good for both of you.”

  “Okay,” Shela said. “But no one tells me who I take or how many I take. If I don’t like a guy I can turn him down.”

  “Fine with me.” Mat nodded. “What about you, Conni?”

  “I’ll go along with it,” she said grudgingly. “But if you miss just one payment, I’m quitting.”

  “Great.” Mat pulled two pipes and two packets of tobacco from his pocket and handed them through the bars.

  “Looks like you were pretty sure of us,” Shela said as she took hers.

  Mat grinned. “I knew you’d want something to keep you occupied on the trip.”

  Gwin listened to the conversation. There was no way she was going to be part of the deal. She hoped Shela realized that, for if not, she would have another enemy on her hands.

  She was also wondering if she should ask Mat about a doctor. She hated to do it while Conni was there, but she knew if she didn’t soon, it might be too late for Syl.

  “When do our first customers arrive?” Shela asked.

  “I have four wanting to come this evening.”

  “That’s two apiece,” Shela said. “We can handle them.”

  “Hey,” Conni said. “That’s not for you to decide.”

  “Then bring my two and I’ll take a bottle of liquor for them.”

  “I’ll take liquor, too, for mine,” Conni said.

  * * *

  The mood of the police officers on the Condoren had not changed and there was constant bickering over the smallest item, sometimes even over future events. They’d been told that the governor of the colony had been given their records and she would decide their positions from constables to police chief. And this meant that there could be some demotions. The older officers who had been on the force longer believed they should automatically be promoted while the younger members thought promotions should be made according to each officer’s merit. This caused much debate since none of them wanted to take orders from those who had been below them on their home planet.

  The only one whose mood had improved was Curt. A few days after they were in space he’d put out the word that he had some tobacco for sale. He hadn’t expected much of a result because he had specified cash only and he didn’t think many had brought money. Those who secretly smoked had brought their own supply, but he did find customers in the ones who decided to have a party and those who now wanted to experiment since no one cared if they smoked on the transport.

  Then word had spread to the other ships and soon orders were coming in on the space clipper that travelled twice a week between them. He’d had to make a deal with the captain of the clipper, who in turn bargained with the guard contacts on the ships. Each day he applauded his wisdom.

  “You know Curt, if you’d just tell us where your tobacco is hidden we could save you some time by getting it for you.”

  “Sure, then all you’d have to do is divide it into the orders and get it to the clipper’s captain.”

  Curt shared a room with two other police officers, Mont and Dill. They were from the police station on Level Two Down and had been sent to the colony planet for demanding protection money from shopkeepers. Ever since they found out about his tobacco, they’d wanted a part of the business. Both were lounging on their beds as they watched him strap his pouch around his waist.

  “I can handle it myself,” Curt replied.

  “Maybe you should think about hiring us as bodyguards,” Dill said. He sat up. “We could guard you when you go for your tobacco.”

  “Yeah,” Mont agreed, leaning on his elbow. “You never know when someone might try to rob you.”

  “But I’m on a transport with one hundred other police officers. This should be the safest place in space.”

  Mont and Dill laughed. “I hope you don’t really believe that,” Mont said. He stood up.

  “I know some guys who would kill you if they found out where your tobacco is stashed,” Dill said.

  “I can look after myself.” Curt headed to the door.

  Mont shrugged. “Don’t say we didn’t warn you.”

  Curt left the room and headed down the corridor. He rounded the corner and stopped, flattening himself against the wall. He peeked back and saw Dill and Mont emerge from the room. They looked both ways then started in his direction. Curt resumed his walking. He’d suspected that they’d been trying to follow him on his last two trips for tobacco and today he was going to find out for sure.

  After rounding the next corner he ran to the steps leading to the level above and climbed them, making as much noise as possible. At the top, he pushed open a door that led to a supply room where the cleaning staff kept their solutions. He slipped inside, then listened at the door. He could hear Mont and Dill pause as they reached the top of the steps. Then they began whispering about which way he would have gone.

  Curt grabbed a bottle of cleaner and o
pened the door.

  “What are you guys doing here?” he asked in mock surprise.

  “Uh, n nothing,” Mont stammered.

  “We … we’re just going to the games room,” Dill managed.

  “It’s not on this level.”

  “We’re picking up one of our buddies,” Mont said, his voice more forceful.

  “Then I won’t keep you.” Curt headed to the steps and descended them.

  He resumed his route through the corridors of the transport. He didn’t have to worry about viewing cameras watching his every move. He’d found out that, to save power, all the cameras had been shut off. But, even though he’d gotten Mont and Dill off his trail for today, he still checked over his shoulder to make sure someone else wasn’t following him. For they’d been right when they’d said, there were others who wanted part of his deal.

  Many officers had approached him, some of whom were mad that they hadn’t thought of idea themselves. When he’d turned them down he’d received some threats. He knew it wasn’t hard for them to figure when his deliveries were to be made and when he was likely to be heading for his stash. So he’d begun to take a few precautions.

  When not filling orders he spent most of his time wandering the ship looking for different routes to the storage area and any hiding places along each way. And since the clipper’s travel days were the same each week, he’d taken to making his trips to the storage room on days other than when a delivery was scheduled.

  The pouch was another giveaway. He needed it carry back the tobacco. When he strapped it on, Mont and Dill knew for certain he was going for a pick up. And if he met an officer in the hallway while wearing the pouch he knew he would be followed. So he’d started putting it on every time he left his room. He wore it to meals, he wore it to the games room, he wore it everywhere. Soon, many of the officers tired of trying to follow his every move.

  Another of his precautions was the sprinkling of a fine layer of powder he’d found in one of the cleaning rooms along the corridor outside the storage room door. He did that now before slipping through the door to the landing. He stood and overlooked the storage area, which was piled high with bags, containers, and equipment. The person in charge of the loading had told him exactly where his bundles of tobacco would be and on the second day out he’d gone down to find them. What he hadn’t been told was that they would be covered with other bags that looked similar to his. He’d climbed over rows and rows of bags and lifted hundreds of sacks until he found the marks he’d painted on his bags before they were loaded. By moving a few bags around he’d brought one of his tobacco sacks closer to the top and was able to get some of the tobacco out. Once done, he replaced his sack in amongst the others and left. It was hard work but there was no way he was leaving it on top where someone might find it.

  Curt descended the steps to the floor, walked around the various pieces of equipment and then climbed up on a huge mound of sacks. It almost reached the ceiling and he had to crawl to where his tobacco was buried. He lifted off the top bags of grain and pulled his bag out. It was almost empty and he would have to dig down for another soon. He opened his sack, stuffed enough tobacco into his pouch to fill the orders he had, and closed it again. He dropped it back into the hole but because of its smaller shape, when he replaced the bags on top there was a definite dip in the row. Anyone looking for his stash would notice it immediately.

  He pulled the other bags out again, propped one on its end and carefully laid the others over it. From a distance it did the job but if anyone crawled over it, it would probably collapse. He would have to bring something to fill in the hole.

  Curt climbed off the stack, made his way around the equipment and up the steps. He opened the door and peered up and down the hallway. It was empty and there were no footprints in the faint dust he had sprinkled. He quickly slipped through. Not looking around, he hurried along the corridor, his full pouch banging against his legs.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Georg spent much of his time leaning against the wall near the door. From there, he could listen to bits of conversation as the guards passed by on their rounds. He was gathering as much information as he could about the fleet and where it was going. So far, he’d learned that there were five spaceships carrying the prisoners and two transports carrying the police force, the various craftspeople assigned to the project, and animals, and that the fleet would be making two stops for provisions and fuel on the way to the colony planet.

  Footsteps were coming down the hall. Georg strained to listen.

  “Do you want to buy some tobacco?” one of the guards asked the other.

  “Who’s got tobacco here?”

  “There’s a police officer named Curt on the Condoren who has a supply.”

  “A police officer is selling tobacco?” the second guard laughed. “Shouldn’t he be in one of these rooms?”

  “From what I’ve heard, all the police being sent to the planet were doing something illegal. They either had to take this job or go to the Fringe.”

  “So how does he get it here?”

  “The captain of the clipper takes orders and then brings the tobacco back on his next trip.”

  “How does he like payment?”

  “Cash only.”

  “Well, I’m out. I didn’t think I’d need money, so I never brought any.”

  “Too bad.”

  “So what do you get out of it?”

  “I get tobacco for each sale I make.”

  “Does he need any more dealers?”

  “Not in this area. I’ve got it covered.”

  Georg was stunned. Curt was on a transport? He was going to the colony planet, too? That was something Georg hadn’t expected. He returned to his bed to go over this piece of news.

  If what the one guard had said was true, Curt had been sent because he’d been taking bribes. And since the police chief already knew that before Georg had told him, then Davi must have informed on him. Georg grinned. He felt a little better with the news. Curt was getting his payback.

  And the news also gave him something to look forward to when they landed. Curt had tobacco and if he was smart enough to bring it with him for sale, then he should have been smart enough to bring seeds to plant at the colony.

  “I guess I’ll have to find him once we’re landed,” George said softly. “It looks like we’re going to form a little partnership.”

  * * *

  Flight Director Royd left his apartment and walked passed Thanis’ door. He expected the Pidleonian to jump out at him and was surprised when he didn’t. For the first two weeks after takeoff he’d been constantly at Royd’s side, following him wherever he went even if it was on a stroll to stretch his legs. Then, once he’d realized that Royds only important act of the day was his visit to the command room of the Nostra, he'd tapered off. Now he only opened his door to accompany Royd at random and the last time had been three days ago.

  Royd entered the command room for his daily inspection of their course and flight time. He'd given Captain Robi the first set of course coordinates when they'd left and since then, after consulting his charts and notes, only gave the few changes as they were needed.

  “How is our speed today?” Royd asked Captain Robi.

  Captain Robi shook his head. “That Treachen is still slowing us down.”

  They were now into their third week of flight and two days behind the time schedule he’d envisioned. He knew they couldn’t fly as fast as he and Gwin had done in their space clipper but he’d expected them to make better time than they were. He’d arranged the food supply around his time schedule giving them only three days extra. If they didn’t reach Lodigan within three days of his projected schedule, they would run out.

  He’d been on the ship to ship interline every day with the captain of the Treachen trying to find out what the problem was. They’d ruled out bad fuel, since all the ships had fuelled up at the same station. The engine technicians had found a blocked line and had repaired
it with no noticeable results. They’d found some broken wires and replaced them, again with no change.

  “Get me the captain of the Treachen,” Royd said to the communications officer.

  When the call had been put through, Royd donned the headset and adjusted the microphone.

  “Captain Nicc,” Royd said. “You’ve got to do something. You’re holding up the fleet.”

  “There’s nothing I can do,” Captain Nicc replied.

  “There must be something,” Royd insisted.

  “Then come over here and show me what!” Captain Nicc said angrily. “I keep telling you that nothing works right on this ship.”

  Ever since Royd began complaining that the Treachen could not keep up, Captain Nicc had been insisting that he look at the engines himself. Royd had been putting it off. He already knew what he would find. He’d just been hoping that the technicians on the ship would somehow solve the problem.

  “Are you coming?” Captain Nicc demanded. “I want it on the record how bad a ship this is and it is not my, nor my crew’s, fault that we are so slow.”

  Royd sighed. He knew he had to go. A concerned fleet leader would have been over there days ago. “I’ll take the clipper over.”

  Royd left the room and headed to the forward compartment where the clipper was serviced and refuelled.

  “I need the clipper to go to the Treachen,” he told the service specialist.

  “I just finished re-cleaning the oil,” the technician said. “I’ll put it back in the clipper and let Captain Cars know.”

  “I’ll be taking it myself,” Royd said.

  “That’s against policy.”

  “I know it is, but I’m still taking it.”

  “According to my orders, Captain Cars is the only one who is supposed to fly it.”

  “I’m in charge of the fleet. I’m overriding your orders.”

  The specialist stood uncertainly, then said. “I want it recorded that you flew it over my protestations.”

  “Done.”