by J G Cressey
“Whoever it was obviously thought we were scum,” Toker added. “That Lucky Deuce place definitely wasn’t upper class.”
“Well I reckon they realised their mistake,” Eddy chimed in. “That’s why we’re in this tarted-up car. Right, fancy pants?”
Meeks understandably flinched as the girl leaned forward and slapped him hard on the thigh.
“Something like that,” Meeks mumbled in reply while brushing his trouser leg with a spotlessly white hanky.
Cal continued to stare out of the window, smiling a little as he listened to his friends taunt the man. The journey was proving a bit of a blessing. The car was a smooth ride, and the comfortable seats gave his aching back some much-needed support. The pain that was ignited during the fight was rapidly dispersing, but that fact did little to encourage him. Was this the way it would always be from now on, crippling pain whenever he did anything too strenuous? He’d always been blessed with good physicality, something he’d taken for granted until it began to fail him. Cal had never been one to dwell on problems over which he had no control, but he had to admit, this problem was starting to get to him in a big way. Rubbing the back of his head, he refocused his attentions on the sights through the window.
It wasn’t long before they arrived at what Cal guessed to be a checkpoint for the upper class sector. As they slowed to pass through it, some construction work in the distance caught his eye, in particular a large ship maybe a third of the size of Big Blue. It had been upended and attached, skyscraper-like, to a mass of at least three melded freight ships. As the car once again reached its full, dizzying speed and swooped closer to the construction, huge, mechanical work spiders came into view. They were crawling up the side of the upended ship, busily spray painting over the word Queen. Cal had little doubt that he was looking at what was once Captain Nick Rail’s ship, The Swan Queen. The sight was a harsh reminder that he’d have to stay sharp. Fellow humans or not, losing their ship and becoming stranded on this floating monstrosity of a city was the last thing they needed.
Eventually, the car slowed again. Veering off the main thoroughfare, it slipped onto a single-lane track that was free of other vehicles. Moving at what now seemed a snail’s pace, the car passed under a grotesquely lavish golden arch. Cal felt the familiar electric buzz of a halo scanner pass through the vehicle. Although the halo scanners supposedly caused no harm, Cal never liked being subjected to them. Anything that made the hairs on your arms dance about in such a weird fashion surely couldn’t be good for the body.
Tall, pristine trees, brilliant green against the blackness of space—and obviously fake due to the lack of atmosphere—were neatly lining the track. The sight of the trees surprised Cal. They seemed so out of place in a city that had so far ranged from tacky to garish with not a hint of taste or beauty in between. Impressed by their realism, he leaned closer to the window to get a better look at the lush foliage and the elegant, twinkling lights buried within. Closer inspection, however, revealed that the pretty lights weren't the only things buried within. Protruding from every tree were the unmistakable hexagonal rims of Jago cannon blasters. Considering the amount of trees they had already passed, Cal estimated a heavy artillery nearing that of a midsize military attack ship. This man, Hogmeyer, was either incredibly unpopular or seriously paranoid, quite possibly both.
Many more trees later, the track came to an abrupt end. Two hefty blast doors slid open, allowing the car to slip in between. Leaving behind the starry vista of deep space, the vehicle entered a featureless, box-like room. Cal heard a subtle hum and a series of thumps, which he guessed was the artificial gravity activating. The box-like room opened up to reveal a third and final door, this one crafted from glass embedded with elaborate swirls of gold. The look of relief on Meeks' gray face as the car passed through the glass doors and came to a halt rekindled Cal’s grin.
Cal stepped out of the vehicle into a space so large it almost felt as though they were still outside. The area was contained by shimmering walls of white marble that soared as high as cliffs and were lined with giant, round pillars that looked fit to support the heavens. At the top of these pillars, an immense ceiling made from glass and supported by thick, golden struts arched its way across the vast space. Through that glass, the blackness of space offered a stark contrast to the bright interior.
In the distance, an ever-increasing line of sleek hover vehicles were coming to a stop outside a series of golden archways. Uniformed drivers were busily opening doors, allowing richly garbed men and women to spill out onto long, crimson carpets. Even from this distance, it was obvious the men and women were ludicrously wealthy. But what was wealth now? Surely, it relied on the Federation banking system, a system reliant on long-range communications. Possibly, the Federation could eventually recover from this disaster. After all, Earth had been the hub, but it hadn’t been the be all and end all; there were hundreds of large, well-established colonies. But what if the rumors of the military were correct? And what if they couldn’t re-establish communications? What then?
“This way.” Meeks was irritably waving aside two heavily armed guards to indicate a small entranceway in the marble wall before them.
“Taking us through the back entrance, Meeks,” Cal commented, nodding towards the rich guests in the distance. Meeks simply sniffed in reply and led the way through the door with his freakishly precise steps.
Once inside, the little man did his best to herd them along a spotless corridor. By the time they neared its end, however, his attempts had begun to fail. Eddy and Toker had broken away, becoming distracted by a wide glass panel that ran the length of the corridor.
“Check this out, Cal. You ever see such a big bunch of rich stinkers in one room?” Eddy asked, her grubby forehead pressed against the window.
Cal walked over and took a peek. Far below, he could see a swarming mass of lavishly dressed men and women—more of the same he’d seen streaming through the golden arches a few minutes earlier. “Not sure I have.”
True to the city’s form so far, the area below was huge, more a grand hall than a room. The walls and floor were crafted from the same gleaming white marble that Cal had seen earlier complete with the golden swirls of the glass doors. The people were swooning around a myriad of gambling tables and drinks bars, all of which were constructed in gold. In fact, practically everything non-living was either made from gold, marble, or glass, including the tentacle-like tube lifts, which spiralled up to countless pleasure pods adorning the high ceiling. In essence, the hall was the absolute antithesis of the Lucky Deuce.
“No amount of money can buy good taste, I guess,” Jumper muttered in Cal's ear as he peered over his shoulder.
Cal smiled without taking his eyes from the view. Weirdly, he found himself feeling sorry for all those people. All those privileged lives, which, in all likelihood, would soon be flipped upside down. They all seemed to be doing a good job at turning a blind eye to the situation. The chaos hadn’t reached them yet, but it would. And if it continued, power would then revert back to the fittest and the strongest and probably the most aggressive.
Next to him, Eddy peeled her head off the window and proceeded to bang her bony fist against the glass while flashing a grin at the unaware—or possibly uninterested—crowds below. “Finally got us to the right class level, eh Meeky,” she said without bothering to turn to see if the man was even listening.
“Yeah, thanks for the upgrade,” Toker added. “Now don't you go punching anyone around here, little chick,” he said, jabbing a finger at Eddy.
“You're the only one I'll be punching anytime soon.”
Toker chuckled. “Hey, you might want to consider keeping this one under lock and key, Meeks, my man,” he shouted over his shoulder.
Cal turned to look at Meeks. The little man was standing at an open door at the end of the corridor, his expression as bleak as ever. “This way,” he said in a tone that suggested more words were simply too much effort.
Cal indic
ated the door. “Shall we?” he said, knowing full well that the rest of them were unlikely to obey a man like Meeks.
The room they entered was, for once, not all that big. Almost immediately, Cal recognized it as the interior of a small ship. The consoles had all been removed, but the room’s overall shape, coupled with the large, cockpit-shaped window to his right, left him in little doubt. The window had the subtle tell-tale sheen of smart-glass, and through it, he could see the same lavish gambling hall they'd seen from the corridor. There was a vast, polished desk in the center of the room. On the other side, a tall man was busily heaving his bulk out of a spring-backed leather chair.
“Welcome. Glad you could make it,” the man said in a deep, overly jolly voice. Reaching over the desk, he held out a sweaty hand laden with gold rings. “Captain Harper, I presume.”
Cal gave the man a firm handshake and a silent nod.
“Aaron Hogmeyer. Welcome to my city,” the big man said, seemingly unperturbed by Cal’s silence. He then proceeded to turn his wide, yellow-toothed grin to each of the gang in turn. “Welcome, welcome,” he continued, stepping partway around the desk to grab Viktor’s reluctant hand and give it a rough shake. Lastly, his eyes fell admiringly on Melinda's face and shortly after, her ample bosom. The big man’s smile faltered slightly as he made an unsuccessful attempt at raising Melinda’s hand. Looking a little confused, he aborted the attempt, his seemingly naturally ruddy complexion turning a shade darker. “That's quite an arm you've got there, missy,” he mumbled as he shuffled back behind his desk.
“This is an unusual office, Hogmeyer,” Cal said, deciding it best to draw the attention away from Melinda.
“That it is, Captain—”
“Call me Cal.”
Hogmeyer nodded. “Well, believe it or not, Cal, this office used to be the interior of a ship. The Golden Nugget, I called it. A great ship it was too: a Corrin cruiser.”
“A Corrin Type Three if I'm not mistaken,” Cal replied. “A rare but admired ship.”
“I'm impressed,” Hogmeyer said, genuinely seeming so. “You must—”
“There's not much I don't know about ships,” Cal interrupted.
The man’s grin twitched.
Cal was pleased to see that the gang was embracing their naturally inquisitive natures and were spreading themselves about the office, an act that was clearly irritating their host. Jumper was standing motionless in the far corner while Toker and Eddy loitered before the huge window, giggling and pointing at something in the gambling hall far below. Meanwhile, Viktor was studying some technological device near the entrance door, Melinda close by his side.
Meeks, having never ventured far inside the room, was also standing by the door. Cal noticed the slightest hint of amusement in the man’s sharp features, perhaps triggered by the increasing annoyance of his employer.
“On the subject of ships, that's quite a ship you have yourself—” Hogmeyer’s voice faltered as something over Cal's shoulder distracted him. “Er, young lady, I'd appreciate it if you didn't press your mouth up against my viewing panel.”
“Right you are, hog man,” Eddy replied gruffly.
“Yeah, where's your respect, young lady?” Toker said with a snigger.
Eddy swung her combat booted foot at him, narrowly missing his crotch.
Cal did nothing to simmer the pair.
Hogmeyer cleared his throat and turned his eyes back to Cal, his smile now closer to a baring of teeth. “As I was saying, that's a fine ship you folks came in on—”
“You're right, it is a fine ship,” Cal cut in. “It's done us proud during the recent troubles.”
“Indeed, indeed. Terrible business,” Hogmeyer replied with a shake of his balding head.
Cal briefly considered quizzing the man on the situation but, not wanting to reveal how out of the loop they were, quickly dismissed the idea.
Hogmeyer thrust his belly forward and stretched his lower back. “Some might say it's dangerous to be roaming with such troubles. And if you ask me, they’d be right. Especially if you’re lumbering through space in a big old ship like yours. A ship that size could easily attract unwanted attention. My advice would be to settle somewhere…much safer.”
“Others might say it's the settlers on their static planets and space stations who are facing the greatest risk,” Cal said without hesitation. “If accounts are to be believed, I think we’re much safer on the move.”
“Well, everyone’s entitled to their own opinion, I guess, even if it is completely misguided.” Hogmeyer eased himself into the spring-backed chair. “Still, you have to admit, it's a big old ship for such a small crew.”
“Not so,” Cal replied. “Certainly not when you’re a creative bunch like us. All that extra space comes in handy from time to time. We're even throwing around a few business ideas. Such a huge ship could become quite the big earner, isn't that right, J?”
In the corner of the office, Jumper cracked a grin and nodded. “Yes, we're really quite blessed.”
“Maybe, maybe,” Hogmeyer replied absently. He'd been distracted again, this time by Viktor, who had wandered over to a small drinks bar at the back of the office and was tinkering with a strange-looking dispenser. “That's not for kids, sonny,” the big man said, his face now completely devoid of a smile. He followed Viktor with hard eyes as the boy sniffed and meandered back towards the door. “Meeks, maybe you want to supervise the kid.” He shot Meeks a look that promised pain if he didn't comply.
“So you agree?” Cal said.
“Agree? ‘Bout what?” Hogmeyer mumbled, turning his attention back to Cal.
“Our ship. Big Blue. We were agreeing on what a fine and valuable vessel it is.”
“Valuable? Not sure about valuable, certainly not to someone like me.” Hogmeyer replied, scratching the bulbous flesh under his chin.
Cal laughed. “A huge cargo ship of no use to a man with a city almost entirely built from the things? Come now, Hogmeyer, let's not make fools of each other. If you found someone willing to part with such a ship, a businessman like you would be cracking open the credit safe without a second thought.”
Hogmeyer returned the laugh. “Takes a lot for me to crack open the credit safe, Harper, that much I can tell you right away. Certainly not for an ugly hunk of cargo ship. Space stations, that's where my interests—”
Hogmeyer was distracted yet again. This time by a rapid thumping behind Cal's back. “Would you tell that damn brat of a girl to stop banging her fists against my window? She’ll do some bloody damage.” The big man slammed one of his meaty palms on the desk.
Cal grinned. “We have a somewhat relaxed chain of command, I'm afraid. Orders don't sit all that well with us,” he replied, taking note of the man's short fuse that was attached to a rather explosive temper. He turned to look at Eddy. She seemed totally unperturbed by the man’s sudden rage.
Also seemingly unbothered by the man’s temper, Viktor strolled over to perch on the end of the huge desk. “I wouldn't worry,” the boy said casually. “There’s no way fists could get through that window. If I'm not mistaken, which I never am, that's T4 smart-glass. Even a ten-click pulse rifle would have trouble damaging that.”
Hogmeyer peeled his eyes from Eddy to glare at Viktor instead. He opened his mouth but seemed unable to find a suitable reprimand. Before he could formulate his words, Viktor casually plucked a control wand, which had been lying idly on the desk, into his nimble fingers and began to study it.
Hogmeyer was up and leaning over the desk as fast as his long legs could manage under his bulk. “If you know what's good for you, boy, you'll hand that back immediately.”
Cal took a step forward and braced himself, not to protect his young friend—he knew there was no need—but to try and prevent Melinda from doing some irreversible damage to their bad-tempered host should he attempt to lay a hand on the boy.
“An old model,” Viktor sniffed, still quite unperturbed by the big man's new outburst. “You wanna
upgrade, get yourself a Wizard Poker 3000, twice as many functions and a far superior range.”
Hogmeyer looked in danger of bursting something vital. He was obviously unused to such lack of control over those around him. The longer the boy ignored his outstretched hand, the more the rage seemed to build. Eddy and Toker’s continued giggling wasn’t helping it any.
“Perhaps you ought to give our host his little stick back, Viktor,” Cal suggested. “You wouldn't want to upset Melinda with all the commotion, would you?”
“Right you are, Cal. All I was saying was that the range on these things sucks.” Viktor tossed the control wand back towards Hogmeyer.
Dropping well short of the big man’s reach, the wand clattered awkwardly on the desk, and a green light sprang to life on its end. Instantly, the view through the office window disappeared and was replaced with a huge grid of multiple images. Each image contained a different view of the city, ranging from sweeping, action-filled shots of the bustling arenas where spikeball games and gladiator rumble ring tournaments were taking place to mundane, static views of vehicle parking sectors and hotel lobbies.
“Some interesting surveillance you have there, Hogmeyer,” Cal remarked as he turned and scanned the grid. His eyes quickly came to rest on the rotating image of a docking hangar filled with numerous small to mid-size space cruisers. “And that's an impressive collection of ships in that hangar,” he continued, indicating the square a third of the way up “I can even see a Star Splinter nestled in there.” He turned to look at Hogmeyer, who was straining his bulky frame over the desk in a clumsy, somewhat desperate attempt to retrieve his control wand. “The new Harper 7 series if I'm not mistaken.”