by J G Cressey
“And if I'm not mistaken,” Toker added loudly, “that's a bunch of naked chicks.”
“Where?” Viktor asked a little too eagerly.
“Right up there,” Toker replied, stretching up on his tiptoes and jabbing a finger at a square halfway up the grid, which was filled from corner to corner with naked females glistening amid sauna steam. “Who's been a naughty boy then?” Toker continued, coming down off his tiptoes and turning his wide grin towards Hogmeyer.
The big man, having finally retrieved his control wand and fumbled it the right way up, wasted no time flicking away a good three or four of the images. “Purely security measures,” he mumbled, the color of his face suggesting otherwise. With a twirl of his wand, he singled out the view of the hangar in question and enlarged it so it filled the entire window. “Yes, quite right, a brand new Star Splinter, Harper 7,” he said in a swift, clumsy attempt to divert attention. Any trace of his previous rage seemed to have dwindled. “Only three of the Harper 7 series were made before Earth saw its end, and I own the best of the three. I splashed out on every upgrade on offer plus a few bespoke ones from the very best of designers.”
Cal heard a snort from behind him, which he guessed was Viktor’s response to the comment.
“How’s about enlarging the one with the naked chicks?” Toker suggested, his tone half mocking, half hopeful.
Fingering his control wand, Hogmeyer did his best to ignore him.
Cal continued to look up at the screen. “Yes, not a bad ship. A craft like that would certainly ease the blow should we decide to part with a ship such as Big Blue.” Cal didn't believe for a second that Hogmeyer would even consider such a trade. Even if he was a fair man, which Cal knew he wasn’t, it would take at least four cargo ships to warrant such an exchange. The Star Splinter ships were the very best credits could buy, and this was a brand-new Harper 7.
As suspected, Hogmeyer reacted to the comment with an explosion of mirth. “Your ship for my Star Splinter Harper 7? A fair trade indeed, assuming your big, ugly hunk of metal is filled to the brim with Casgorian diamonds.”
The big man’s laugh eventually simmered to a humorless grin. “Just because you share a name with a thing, Captain Harper, doesn’t necessarily make you worthy of it. I'd like to help you and your friends out, I really would, but I'm just not in the market for another big cargo ship.”
Cal smiled at the man. “I hate to repeat myself, Hogmeyer, but believing that an enormous ship such Big Blue isn't of considerable value to a city like this, that’s a tough one to swallow. You only have to look at those images of yours to see that this city’s bursting at the seams. You don’t strike me as the type to be turning potential custom away. Besides, I’m afraid your man here,” Cal nodded towards Meeks, “has already let it slip that you’re interested.”
Hogmeyer shot a venomous look at Meeks. Surprisingly, the thin man seemed relatively unfazed.
Turning back to Cal, Hogmeyer drew himself up to his full, considerable height. “I can assure you that Meeks was mistaken. I simply invited you here because you’re first timers to my city…simple manners. Besides, I prefer to know firsthand who’s visiting and residing in my city.” Hogmeyer planted his hands on his desk and leaned forward. “Now, Mr Harper, I too hate to repeat myself but, as I was saying before the commotion caused by your unruly crew, space stations are where my interests lie at this particular time. Unlike hulking cargo ships, they give the city a certain finesse. Too many cargo ships are cumbersome, ugly even, and to be quite honest, I'm already satisfied with the size of my city. I believe in quality, not quantity, a concept that you and your crew are perhaps not all that familiar with.”
Having recognized the failure of his nice guy façade, Hogmeyer had now abolished it entirely. Unfortunately, in doing so, he seemed to have regained a good deal of his composure. But the words spilling from his flapping mouth didn’t fool Cal for a second. A man who donned such a gross multitude of gold rings didn't know the meaning of too much or too big. From everything Cal had witnessed, he had little doubt that Hogmeyer was obsessed with excess. It was worthless beating around the bush with such a man.
“Space stations… Well, I’m afraid I can’t help you there,” Cal said with a shrug. “I don't think I know of anyone with a station. Not one they’re willing to part with, in any case. Thanks for the warm welcome, Hogmeyer, but seeing as we've got nothing to offer each other, my crew and I will be on our way.” Cal turned and slapped Toker on the back. “Right then, gang, I think we've taken up enough of our host’s time—”
“Now, now, let's not be hasty,” Hogmeyer interjected. He smiled, but it was nothing more than a poor imitation. “A good-natured man such as myself could hardly allow his guests to up and leave his city in such troubled times as these. Certainly not without first offering an act of kindness.”
Cal didn't miss the threat that simmered in the man’s words. He suspected, however, that carrying out that threat would be a last resort to a man like Hogmeyer. The man was a scam artist. Violence and force took the skill and fun out of it.
“I suppose,” Hogmeyer continued, “with the recent troubles in mind, your cumbersome ship could be made use of. A little extra space for those poor souls in need of safe harbor.” Hogmeyer pondered for a moment or at least pretended to. “In exchange for your ship, I’ll stretch to offering you some fine quarters, a safe home for each of you. Of course, for fit, young bucks such as yourselves, I’d make sure you were put in the heart of my city—the liveliest, most exciting areas.”
Cal smiled and shook his head. “Well that's a very charitable offer, Hogmeyer. Unfortunately, we'll have to decline. I have a feeling that the areas of the city you're referring to are probably a little too lively, even for those as young and fit as us. Besides, as I said before, we're travellers at heart. Adventurers if you like. And we’re rather fond of our ship. Staying in one spot for too long is not an option for us.”
“Is that so?” Hogmeyer leaned back into his chair and drummed his long fingers on his chest. After a few moments, he continued. “Well then, if I can't manage to convince you of the dangers of space travel in these dark times, how's about I offer you a faster, more maneuverable ship. At least give you a chance to outrun any trouble. It will of course be a much smaller ship than you’re used to but far more suitable and easy to manage for a crew of your size.”
This was what Cal was hoping for. However much he hated to admit it, the fat man was right; travelling in a ship as large and as slow as Big Blue was perilous even in times of peace. He still didn't trust him an inch, but at least the conversation was moving in the right direction.
“Again, a very generous offer,” Cal said. “An offer that may well be of interest, especially seeing as you're clearly a man with an eye for quality. I don’t believe you’d ever dream of offering a ship of substandard caliber.”
Hogmeyer let out a throaty chuckle. “Despite being totally misguided, Harper, you're at least a good judge of character.”
“Yes, I am. We would of course need to give the ship in question a thorough, physical inspection.”
“You don't trust me?”
“I don't know you. And, if nothing else, we'll need to ensure the ship’s suitability to our personal needs. I’m sure you understand.”
Hogmeyer sniffed and pointed his control wand at the viewing panel. Sweeping the view of the Star Splinter ship aside, he zeroed in on its neighbor, a ship of similar size. “A Delta Pinpoint, series II…in excellent condition of course.”
Cal turned to look at the image. The ship filling the screen did indeed look in good condition, nowhere near as sleek in appearance as the Star Splinter but still an impressive-looking craft.
“You realize I'm being particularly generous here, Harper. The Pinpoints are damn fast ships.”
“I’m familiar with them,” Cal replied, still studying the image.
“Nice,” Toker said. “Reckon we could get away from anyone in that little monster.”
'Hey,’ Eddy blurted. “We don't run from no one.”
Toker snorted. “Suppose with you on the crew, we won't have to; we'll just press your ugly mug up against the cockpit window. They'll abandon the chase in no time.”
Cal continued to stare at the screen in silent thought. The offer was particularly generous. Too generous. The Delta Pinpoint was a basic ship—far from a Star Splinter in quality, but it was still a decent vessel: swift, reliable…in short, perfect.
“No messing around with credits,” Hogmeyer said gruffly. “A handshake and a straight swap. I'll let you have your little inspection, and once my honesty and generosity has been proven, you can thank me and be on your way.”
Cal looked over at Jumper. His old friend was staring at the screen looking just as troubled as he felt. The ship appeared intact, and Hogmeyer seemed confident in its condition. The offer of a straight swap was more than fair, but therein laid the problem: Every fiber of his being was telling him that this man was incapable of being fair. He turned to face Hogmeyer. “I'm in total agreement that there should be no messing around. But with that in mind, an immediate physical inspection would be preferable.”
“Fine by me,” Hogmeyer replied a little too quickly. “I'll even take time out of my busy schedule to give you and your little crew the tour myself. Meeks, contact officer Dalton down in the hangar 14. Inform him that I'll be down shortly to escort a crew around the Pinpoint, dock 32.” Heaving himself out of his chair Hogmeyer shot Cal a smile that not even a loving mother would trust. “So let’s go.”
Chapter Seventeen
STURDY SHIP
Hangar 14 was gargantuan. A brightly lit dome of shiny metal and glass that housed a multitude of similarly shiny ships. Sitting neatly in docking bay 32, the Delta Pinpoint, like the rest of the ships, seemed tiny within the cavernous space. Cal sat alone at the base of the Pinpoint’s loading ramp. So far, the vessel had proven to be in the excellent condition that Hogmeyer had promised: a simple, sturdy ship that would no doubt do him and the gang proud. Right now, however, he wasn’t paying the adequate little ship any attention. Instead, he was staring thoughtfully at its neighbor.
The Star Splinter, Harper 7 gleamed almost supernaturally under the hangar’s bright lights. Cal had always loved the Star Splinters. This Harper 7 was a brand new model, and he was pleased to see that the beautifully sleek design of its predecessors still remained. It was streamlined to the extreme, a silver hull shaped like a shard of glass, so seamless it could have been molded from liquid mercury. Even the huge Vortex engine thrusters, which protruded from the rear like the gaping maws of two giant, chrome fish, had a certain grace. The sight of the ship triggered a cascade of childhood memories.
“You’re staring at the wrong ship, Cal.” Toker came bounding down the Pinpoint’s loading ramp, hopped off its side, and took a seat next to him. “Not that I blame you, bro. That Star Splinter's one hell of a looker.”
Cal smiled. “She’s a beauty.”
“So they name a ship after you or what?”
Cal’s smile turned to a grin. “Not quite.”
“Just coincidence then, huh?”
“No…not quite.”
“You’re not gonna divulge, are you?”
“Maybe later.”
Toker shook his head but grinned back all the same. “And speaking of not divulging, you still haven't told me how you got that posh English accent. I always thought my family was rich, but your folks must’ve been filthy rich for you to grow up in old England.”
“Actually, I never knew my parents, and I was brought up about as far from old England as you can get.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yep. Remind me to tell you about it sometime,” Cal said, giving his young friend the usual slap on the back. “For now though, I'm going to need your expert opinion on all things fast. This hunk of metal we're sitting under will likely be our new home and transport soon.” Cal stood up and, before Toker had a chance to dig any deeper, he strode off towards the Pinpoint's rear thrusters.
“Dude…you're so damn mysterious,” Toker shouted. He then hurried after him.
The Delta Pinpoint was similar in size to the Star Splinter. That, however, was where the similarities ended. Its hull was copper colored and, despite being smooth and structurally sound, had an unfortunate rusty appearance. The design was straightforward, and its construction was cheap but solid. When it came down to it, the Delta Pinpoint was an economic ship for those who needed speed. That speed came from its deep space thruster: a P-blast 33. That was where the ship’s value lay, and that was where Cal and the rest of the gang now stared. Far above them, the thruster protruded from the back of the ship like some sort of monstrous cannon.
“So those are the cruising thrusters?” Toker asked, pointing to the ten small thrusters that circled the main, cannon-like one.
“Exactly,” Cal replied. “They’re for economy. They’re powered by a separate, less power-hungry engine.”
Hearing loud footfalls, Cal brought his gaze down to see Hogmeyer coming out of the ship, the loading ramp bending in protest with each step.
“What do you think of those cannons, eh, girly?” the big man asked, his tone almost cheery as he strode over to join them. He seemed to be making another attempt at his nice guy façade although this time, it was decidedly half-arsed.
“Not bad I ‘spose,” Eddy replied, not bothering to look where Hogmeyer was directing his long, gold-ringed finger. “Reckon this big fat one stickin’ out the back could dish out some destruction.”
“I'm afraid that’s not a cannon, Eddy,” Cal informed her, “it’s the main thruster, used for deep space travel.”
“There, girl…look,” Hogmeyer said, attempting to point more accurately at two neat little cannons mounted high on the side of the ship. “Those babies'll punch a hole through near anything.”
Eddy squinted and wrinkled her nose. “Ya reckon? I don’t reckon.”
Hogmeyer rubbed what little hair he still had left on the back of his head and eyed the girl in annoyance. “They’d look pretty damn big if I got your blinkin' nose up real good 'un close to the barrels,” he growled quietly.
“How loud are they?” Eddy asked, oblivious to the man’s annoyance.
Hogmeyer sneered but managed to hold his temper at bay. “Bloody loud. How’s about this then?” He dug a small device out of the back pocket of his tight jeans. Pointing the device theatrically at the ship, the big man proceeded to press a button that caused the ship to all but disappear before their eyes. If you studied the space very carefully, a transparent, jelly-like impression could be seen, but it was far from obvious. “State of the art cloaking device. Your enemies won't see a thing.”
“That ain't so good,” Eddy scoffed, unimpressed. “It's old. I've seen kiddie toys that can do that disappearin’ stuff.”
Giving up on the girl, Hogmeyer turned stiffly towards Cal. “Harper, I'll give you three more minutes. Then, I want an answer.” Red-faced, he turned and strode off toward Meeks. The little accountant had remained at a distance during the inspection as if allergic to the whole affair.
“What do you think, Cal?” Jumper asked once Hogmeyer was out of earshot.
“I think that short of a long-distance test flight, we've inspected the ship as thoroughly as time and equipment will allow,” Cal replied, looking up again at the pinpoint. “Something’s not right with this ship, that much I know, but I'm damned if I can spot the scam.” He shook his head. “I tell you, Jumper, I don't trust this fat man any further than I can throw him.”
“Maybe we should get Melinda to throw him?” Jumper suggested. “That might get us some answers.”
'Tempting, but he’s damned careful, or possibly paranoid. There’re guards everywhere. Even with Melinda backing us up, we’re seriously outnumbered on this one.”
“Aren't we always?” Jumper said.
“Fair point.”
A moment later, Viktor sauntered over and j
oined them. The boy looked a touch aggravated. “I've done a diagnostic on the ship’s systems, Cal, just like you asked. Everything looks good, but to be honest, it wouldn’t be difficult for someone to jiggle around with the ship’s computer, especially a cheap one like this. Could take me quite a while to dig deeper.”
“Thanks, Viktor, I—”
“Er, sorry to interrupt,” Jumper said, sounding puzzled. “But is everything okay with Melinda? I hate to be rude, but she's looking a little…flat.”
Cal and Viktor turned in unison to look at Melinda. At first glance, the synthetic looked her usual self, standing a few paces away, her expression serene. Then Cal realized that her luscious blonde locks—usually so full of technologically enhanced bounce—were hanging limply off her head and down over her square shoulders like thin, damp curtains.
“Wha… That's weird,” Viktor mumbled with a frown. “Better take a look.”
Cal watched as the boy went over to inspect her, confident that whatever the problem, Viktor would have it fixed in no time.
Jumper put a hand on Cal’s shoulder. “I guess our three minutes are up,” he said, nodding to his left.
Hogmeyer was striding back towards them, a hard look on his face that suggested negotiations were well and truly over. “That's time enough, Harper,” he barked, coming to stand next to them. “I think my honesty and generosity has already been proven enough. So are you ready to honor our agreement and thank me?”
Cal looked the big man in the eye for a few moments then turned his back on him to face the rest of the gang. “What are your thoughts?” he asked, looking at each of them in turn. “Would you all be happy leaving here on this ship?”