The Criminal Streak

by Joan Donaldson-Yarmey

  “And I’ll be filing a complaint when we return home.”

  Royd shrugged. He didn’t care if a complaint was lodged against him. He wouldn’t be working for the Space Organization when this was over. When the oil had been replaced he punched the controls that moved the clipper from the forward to the intermix compartment. When the air exchanger had matched the inside atmosphere to the outside, Royd pressed the button to open the door and flew out.

  Each spaceship had an intermix compartment for the clipper. When Royd was close to the Treachen, a huge door opened and he steered the clipper inside. Once docked he waited for the air to be changed before disembarking. Usually the procedure took only a few minutes. On the Treachen it lasted much longer.

  As soon as Royd climbed out, the door into the main section opened.

  “One of these times that air exchanger isn’t going to work,” Captain Nicc said.

  “What’s wrong with it?” Royd asked.

  “It’s old and worn, just like everything else on this ship.”

  “It can’t be that bad.”

  “Come with me and I’ll show you,” the captain said.

  Royd followed Captain Nicc through the doorway. As they neared the mechanical room, Royd could hear the muffled rumbling of the giant engines. From the hallway they sounded fine. Captain Nicc opened the door and they stepped in. The noise was almost deafening. As they walked passed the engines Royd could hear the different underlying screeches, whines, tings and scrapings that he knew shouldn’t be there.

  “This is my chief technician, Donn,” Captain Nicc yelled as they reached a man pouring liquid from a pail into a hose.

  Donn looked up and nodded then turned back to his work. When the pail was empty he replaced the cap on the line. He wiped his hands on a cloth as he turned and looked questioningly at Royd.

  “This is Space Captain Royd,” Captain Nicc explained above the noise. “He’s in charge of the fleet.”

  “I told you I didn’t want to talk to any boss,” Donn said angrily. “I want to talk to the idiot who bought this old tub.”

  Captain Nicc looked at Royd, but if he knew the truth he didn’t say so.

  “Tell me what’s wrong,” Royd said.

  “What’s wrong? What’s wrong?” Donn sputtered, throwing the rag into a barrel. “Come with me and I’ll show you!”

  Royd followed Donn as he pointed out where the engines were failing, where parts had been replaced, sometimes twice because the first time the part couldn’t fit in the worn spot and had to be modified. He showed where the rubbing of two sections had caused the wearing of components, he showed where bolts couldn’t hold any more because constant movement had enlarged the bolt holes. They passed members of the crew who were working hard to keep the engines running. At one point three men stopped what they were doing and accosted the captain.

  “Captain Nicc,” one of them said. “We would like to request a transfer to another ship.”

  Captain Nicc shook his head. “There are no openings on any of the other ships.”

  “But we have to get off!” Another one yelled. “Or we’re going to be stranded out here in space.”

  “I don’t think it’s that bad,” Royd began.

  “Who are you?” the first one asked belligerently.

  “He’s Space Captain Royd,” Captain Nicc said. “He’s in charge of the fleet.”

  “Then you get us off of here.”

  “I don’t see any reason….”

  “Look around you,” the man interrupted. “There is plenty of reason. This whole room is reason.”

  “You’ll have to discuss this another time,” Captain Nicc said, walking away from the men. Royd followed closely, ignoring the increased yelling.

  “Let’s go into your office where we can discuss this calmly,” Capt Nicc said to Donn. He headed towards a set of stairs.

  At the top was a small soundproof room. Inside, a desk faced a large window that overlooked the huge room full of constantly moving engines.

  Donn closed the door behind them. He offered his chair to Captain Nicc who declined, sitting instead on the edge of the desk. Donn took the chair and Royd leaned against a row of cabinets built into one wall.

  “I apologize for my outburst,” Donn said. “It’s just that this old ship should never have been put on this voyage.”

  “Are you sure your crew knows what they are doing?” Royd said. “I noticed many of them are aliens.”

  “Don’t try to make this look like it’s my men’s fault,” Donn growled.

  “I’m not,” Royd said quickly. “I’m just trying to put an end to this problem.”

  “The end will come when this old tub is a scrape of junk.”

  “Tell me what’s happening.” Royd tried to inject concern and a desire to help into his voice.

  “We’ve replaced just about every part but the engines are just so old even that is of little help. And each time we change a part we have to shut down that engine so the other two are working overtime. That is why we keep falling behind.”

  There was a knock at the door. Captain Nicc leaned over and opened it. A member of the crew stood with a piece of a pump in his hand.

  “Here’s another part that should have been replaced before takeoff,” he said, dropping it on the desk.

  “Where is it from?”

  “From the environment control engine. It was shut down for thirty minutes while we changed it.”

  “Are there any problems with the air quality because of that?”

  “No. Luckily the auxiliary generator is working fine so the air purifiers remained on.”

  “Thank you,” Donn said.

  The man hesitated.

  “Anything else?”

  The man looked at Captain Nicc then at Royd. “I’d like to transfer to another ship,” he said to Captain Nicc.

  “As I’ve told everyone else, there will be no transfers.”

  The man scowled and left.

  Royd listened somewhat impatiently as the chief technician resumed his rundown of the list of parts they had changed and how they had tried to keep the engines running. He shouldn’t have come over. He should have stayed on the Nostra and let the captain of the Treachen handle the situation.

  “The engines can’t put out the power we need,” Donn concluded. “And they are using more fuel to do less work. If this keeps up we may run out before we reach our fuelling station.”

  Now Royd was paying attention. He’d made sure each ship had five extra days of fuel, thinking it would cover any delays. This was one delay he hadn’t thought about. They were behind two days, but because of travelling slower the other ships weren’t using as much fuel. This ship was. And if it ran out, they would have to send for a fuelling ship to meet them in space or else try a transfer of fuel from one ship to the other.

  “There doesn’t seem to be much that I can do under the circumstances,” Royd said, standing. “We’ll be arriving on Lodigan soon. Maybe we can make some changes then.”

  He left the room before Donn had a chance to ask what changes. He didn’t have a clue what he could do short of replacing the engines or buying a new spaceship. And he wasn’t about to do either. As he headed to the clipper he wished that he hadn’t taken the Treachen. Its unsuitability for space travel was very clear, had been clear from the beginning, but the thought of the extra money had made him careless and that carelessness just might jeopardize the voyage.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Judge Jym entered the pleasure room and looked around. He spotted Tame and casually walked over to where she sat playing her favourite computer game. He was almost at her side before she knew he was there.

  “Hello, Tame,” Judge Jym said. “Are you winning tonight?”

  Tame shook her head. “I never seem to be able to get beyond the third level.”

  “Would you like a drink?”

  “I’ve got one, thanks.” She went back to her game.

  Judge Jym stood and watched h
er play for a while, then headed to the bar for a beer. He slowly scanned the room. Ever since they’d boarded, he’d been introducing himself to the police officers explaining that they would be working together on the colony planet and should know each other beforehand. A few had been friendly, but the majority so far had mumbled their names and then gone back to drinking themselves senseless.

  Tame had been one of the friendly officers but that was as far as she went. She wouldn’t accept his offers of a drink and the one time he suggested they go to his apartment to talk in private, she’d refused. Three others had also rejected his advances. He wasn’t sure if it was because of him being a judge or because of him.

  And he was getting frustrated. He’d been sure when he left that he’d have no trouble finding someone to see on a regular basis. But, so far, that hadn’t happened. Then he saw Tame leave her game and come towards him, her glass in her hand. His heart started beating faster. Maybe she’d changed her mind. If she had, he would certainly make sure she didn’t regret it.

  “Would you like a refill?” Judge Jym asked with a smile.

  “No,” Tame said. “But if you need companionship so much, maybe you should contact a guard named Mat on the Treachen. He’s got a little business going with some of the women.” She went and sat at a neighbouring table.

  * * *

  Out of the corner of her eye Gwin saw Conni head into the bathroom. When the door was closed she bounced out of her bed and over to Syl’s. She had to give it one more try.

  “Syl, your hand is getting worse. Let me have a look at it,” Gwin said, quietly.

  “No, Conni wouldn’t like it,” Syl whimpered.

  “Conni is in the bathroom. She won’t know.”

  “She could come out at any time.”

  Gwin sighed in exasperation. “Your hand is badly infected. I can smell it.”

  “Conni said that smell means it’s getting better.”

  “I’ve dealt with infection. That smell means you are getting sicker. A doctor has to look at it.”

  Just then, Conni came out of the bathroom. “I told you to stay away from her!” she screamed as she rushed over to push Gwin away.

  “Syl needs a doctor,” Gwin insisted, keeping her balance.

  “She needs nothing,” Conni scowled.

  “She’s going to die of infection.”

  “Your hand isn’t infected, is it Syl?” Conni leaned over and asked, her voice threatening.

  “N no, Conni, it isn’t,” Syl stuttered. She cowered back against the wall.

  “Then tell this do gooder to leave you alone.”

  Syl hesitated.

  “Tell her,” Conni growled.

  “L leave m me alone,” Syl said quietly, not looking at Gwin.

  “Be more forceful,” Conni demanded. “And look her right in the eye so she knows you mean it.”

  Syl turned her head towards Gwin but still couldn’t look at her directly. “Leave m me alone.” Her voice was slightly louder.

  “You heard her,” Conni said to Gwin. “Now stop bothering her.”

  “I’ve told you before not to order my girls around,” Shela said from her top bunk.

  “Then tell her I’m the boss and she’s supposed to leave my girls alone.”

  “No one decided that you’re the Marahanee,” Shela reminded her.

  “I still decide what happens to my girls.”

  Gwin stood, uncertain of what to do. She’d seen what infection could do when she and another space officer had been exploring a planet on foot. One of their directional finders had malfunctioned and they’d gotten lost. The other officer cut his leg on a sharp rock and it began to infect before they managed to find their clipper and the medicine in it. The smell had been the same as what was coming off Syl’s hand.

  Conni glared at her. Gwin returned to her bunk. There was nothing she could do but wait for an opportunity to look at Syl’s hand again.

  * * *

  A woman was standing in the hallway when Curt rounded a corner. He had on his pouch and was on his way for a new supply of tobacco to send out this afternoon. He’d already avoided one follower; he didn’t need any delays so he could catch up. He tried to brush past her but she casually stepped in front of him.

  “Excuse me,” she said, politely. “But you’re Curt, aren’t you? The one who sells tobacco?”

  Curt stopped and looked at her. How did she know? He didn’t know her from before the flight and she wasn’t one of his regular customers now. In fact, he couldn’t remember even seeing her before. He guessed his reputation was getting around.

  “Yes,” he said. “Do you want to buy some?”

  She pressed a button on a recorder she had around her waist. “Actually, I’m Sari. I’m the historian sent to document the relocation program.”

  “What’s that got to do with me?” Curt sensed that someone had come around the corner behind him. He turned slightly and saw a woman hesitate then slowly saunter by.

  “I’m talking to a selection of the people heading to the planet to get their background as to why they are going to the colony and their feelings about it.”

  “Well, you can count me out. I don’t have time to be interviewed.” Curt started to step past her, then saw a man coming towards him. He could tell by the way he watched him that he was a follower. He smiled at Sari and took her by the arm turning her so they were walking in the same direction. “On second thought, I do have the time. Tell me why and how you plan to record this history.”

  “I’m supposed to be the one gathering the information.”

  “Yes, but I’m sure everyone you’ve talked to so far has wanted to know more about your job. And we’ve got lots of time to talk about me at a later date.”

  Sari shut off the recorder and explained her mission. Curt nodded, his mind only slightly on what she was saying. He was watching the activity around them as they walked along the corridor. Some people ignored them, while others watched intently. But no one could stay in the vicinity, nor could they double back, without drawing attention to themselves.

  “So who have you interviewed?” he asked.

  “I’ve talked to some of the police officers on this transport and this afternoon I’m heading to one of the ships to talk to a few prisoners.” She paused.

  “And then?” Curt prompted.

  “I’m really supposed to be asking you the questions.”

  “Okay,” Curt smiled. He was actually enjoying the antics of the people who were trying to follow him. One stayed just ahead of them and at each corner would peek back. Another tried to casually keep a distance behind them.

  Sari turned on the recorder again and said. “Your name is Curt and you are one of the police officers sent to maintain order on the colony planet?”

  “Yes,” Curt replied.

  “Now, the other officers I have spoken to tell basically the same story. All of you were told you had to take this assignment or risk going to the Fringe. None of them are happy with the situation. You, on the other hand, seem to have turned it to your benefit. So, what I want to ask you is how and why you decided to bring tobacco with you?”

  “You obviously know that we officers were blackmailed into coming. It seems we were not as honest as we should have been.”

  “That’s one way of putting it,” Sari smiled.

  “Like the others, I was angry at being forced to come. But then I realized I didn’t have much of a choice. My crime was taking bribes from tobacco dealers, so I contacted one for a supply to bring with me.”

  “How did you get it on board?”

  “Money has a way of getting things done.”

  “Where is it?”

  “That’s my secret,” Curt grinned.

  “To whom are you selling it?”

  “Anyone who has the cash to buy it.”

  “Do you have a partner?”

  “No, but there are a number of hopefuls.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Curt looked
over his shoulder and Sari turned her head also. They both saw a woman duck back in a doorway. It was the same one he had seen earlier.

  “There are some who think I should share my business with them.”

  Sari grinned. “I wondered why there was so much activity around us. They’re following you hoping you will lead them to your stash.”

  Curt nodded. He was slowly steering her towards one of his quick routes. “Now tell me about your job. What happens when we land?”

  “Once we’re on the planet I will record the building of the settlement and see how the people work towards establishing their new lives.”

  As they neared his exit he glanced both ways then quickly said, “It’s been nice talking to you,” then darted through a doorway beside them.

  Curt made his way to the storage area but stopped short when he saw footprints in the dust. He stared at them then relaxed with a grin. Anyone following him would be behind, not ahead. Obviously someone had passed through this corridor and left their prints.

  He entered and hurriedly filled his pouch. Because of talking with Sari he was behind schedule. He’d have to rush to divide it into the orders. He replaced the sacks and climbed back to the floor. He went to the door and opened it slowly. He glanced up and down the corridor and then at the footprints. They bothered him so, as he headed down the hallway away from the prints, he made a note that this was the last time he came to this storage room. He congratulated himself that he’d thought ahead and divided his stash. Next time he’d have to go to the other one.

  Mont and Dill peered out from the crack in the doorway down the hall. They watched Curt until he turned the corner and disappeared.

  “Smart move deciding to stake out the storage rooms instead of trying to follow him,” Mont said.

  “Yeah and next time we’ll be inside this one so we can see which pile he goes to.”

  Chapter Twenty

  When Royd returned to the Nostra he saw Thanis waiting impatiently at the door to the intermix compartment. Royd smiled in grim satisfaction. It was about time he’d been able to do a little payback.