by J G Cressey
Eddy stood up from the box crate she was slumped on. “Cannons are a little weedy, but at least it's got some. Reckon they could be good for a laugh, so yeah, it's all good with me, Cal.”
“I'm in too, Cal,” Toker added. “This hunk 'o junk certainly isn’t as pretty as I'd like, but I gotta admit that I’ve got a soft spot for that bloody great engine thruster.”
Cal nodded. “Viktor, what’s your vote?”
The boy was perched on the back of Eddy’s crate box, busily rummaging his fingers through Melinda's limp hair like a monkey hunting for ticks. “Whatever you say, Cal,” he replied distractedly.
Cal looked to his old friend. “And you, Jumper?”
Jumper took one last look up at the ship. “I guess I'm in agreement,” he said with an air of reluctance. “At least it’ll be good to have a bit of speed to get us away from this place.”
Cal nodded and turned back to Hogmeyer. “We'll need decent-sized transport to move our belongings between ships and of course access to the hangar tonight and tomorrow to get it done. We'd prefer to load it personally. You understand.”
At that, a smile appeared on Hogmeyer's face. “That can be arranged. Officer Dalton, my head of hangar security, will make sure such things are provided.”
“Then I believe we have a deal.”
The big man's smile spread into a fully-fledged, yellow-toothed grin. “Of course we have a deal. You're a half smart man, Harper, and only a fool would turn down such a generous offer.” At that, he held out his right hand to reveal a long gold chain. On the end was a hefty, oversized golden die. “And while we’re on the subject of my generosity, I always like to close a deal with a gift. It's an Aaron Hogmeyer lucky gold die, my gift to you and your crew.”
“Nice.” Eddy snatched it out of the big man’s outstretched hand.
Hogmeyer laughed with seemingly genuine humor. “Something to remember me by, girly. Tie it up in the cockpit of your lovely new ship, an’ it'll bring you guaranteed luck on your travels.”
“Dunno about that,” Eddy replied, swinging the gold die wildly and almost planting it in Hogmeyer’s face in the process.
“Charming little thing, isn't she?” Hogmeyer mumbled, taking a couple of steps back and chuckling softly. Cal didn’t like the man’s sudden good humor now that the deal was closed. It only acted as further proof that the deal was rotten.
“Well, that's enough charity work for one day.” The big man looked over at Meeks, who was watching the proceedings without an ounce of interest. “Meeks will introduce you to Officer Dalton so you can sort out your needs.”
Cal nodded.
Hogmeyer went to stride off then paused and turned back. “Oh, and Harper. I of course won't be letting you leave without a personal send off. Once Dalton has approved your departure, rest assured, I’ll be here to see you gone.”
Again, the threat wasn't lost on Cal. The guy was really starting to piss him off, his yellow-toothed grin looking more like a target by the second. But aggression wasn’t going to help them at this point. He needed time to think. Something was sickly about this deal. Unfortunately, there was only a day and night for a diagnosis and remedy.
Chapter Eighteen
CON
Meeks pressed the shiny silver button and looked at the comm.
“Damn you and your bloody timing, Meeks.”
Bored of explaining that he’d once again arrived at precisely the time instructed, Meeks wordlessly entered the office. Being careful not to block the big man’s view through the smart-glass window, he set his little holo-cube on the edge of the huge, empty desk.
“Believe it or not, Meeks, I'm still not in the mood for your dull graphs.”
“I see. In that case, may I ask how else you wish to use up my time?”
Hogmeyer sneered, but it was only half-hearted. “If you can manage to keep your bloody smart arse comments to yourself, I shall endeavor to explain to you the details of my latest piece of art.”
Meeks smoothed back his hair. “By art, I assume you're referring to the scam involving Captain Harper and his motley crew? To be honest, I was under the impression that it hadn't gone all that well so far.”
Hogmeyer twiddled his control wand and gave him a hard look. “That's because you don't have the skill set, Meeks. Your dullard, number-obsessed brain doesn't recognize the subtleties of my performance. It’s truly unfortunate that the manipulations I utilize are utterly lost on you.”
“Must be,” Meeks replied, allowing his sarcasm free reign. He really wasn’t in the mood for this today. Civilized society’s on the edge of oblivion, and the bastard is still obsessed with his little scams. “It looked to me like Harper's companions just kept triggering that substantial temper of yours.” Recognizing that very same temper surging again, Meeks quickly continued. “A reaction I completely understand, of course. I had to travel here all the way from the lower class with those brats of his… Close to unbearable.”
Fortunately, the big man’s temper simmered just as fast as it had risen.
“Yes, I must admit, those kids buzzing about made for a difficult crowd. And that dark man didn't move an inch the whole time. Seeing him staring at me out of the corner of my eye…would’ve been distracting to a lesser man.”
“Not to mention the tall blonde,” Meeks offered.
“Yes, her too. Certainly off-putting.” Hogmeyer shook his head and sniffed loudly. “But that just goes further to proving my talents. Not only have I managed to acquire another huge cargo ship, but I've even saved some accommodation spots.”
“Accommodation spots in the lower class slums,” Meeks wasted no time in pointing out.
“It all adds up, Meeks,” his boss replied testily. “And of course, there’s the icing on the cake. That Pinpoint ship I’m sending them off in is almost worthless. Plus, it’s set up to eradicate any potential mess.”
“Mess? I'm not sure I follow.” Meeks knew what was required of him. The words left his mouth with little thought, as if reciting from a script he’d read a thousand times before. “I'm no expert on the subject, but that ship looked half decent to me.”
“Of course you don't follow, Meeks. And you’re right, you’re not a bloody expert—certainly not in anything outside of your dull numbers. Now, if you can manage to quit your interrupting, I'll try to spell it out in a way you might comprehend.” Leaning back in his chair, Hogmeyer sniffed once again and continued. “I understand people, Meeks. I can see right through them, see how their minds work. When it came to my exchange with Harper, it rapidly occurred to me that the man is a troublemaker. And by troublemaker, I don’t mean the sort who gets his backside slung up above a stage in the Lucky Deuce. No, what I’m referring to is the worst type of troublemaker, one with half a brain. One who can think.” He pointed his control wand at Meeks. “Such a man isn't welcome in my city, Meeks. Not even in the Tin Slum jail.”
Meeks tried to stifle a yawn. “So why not shoot him and be done with it?”
“Damn it, Meeks,” Hogmeyer barked, sitting up and glaring at him. “We've been through this. Do I have to spell it out every bloody time? Any fool can have someone shot. There's no bloody skill in it.”
Meeks nodded, and after a moment, the big man leaned back and continued. “Besides, the sad fact is that if you shoot enough people, word eventually gets around. With a city like mine, I can't afford a bad reputation. Especially when it comes to my more sophisticated clientele. Believe it or not, Meeks, rich people don't like to risk getting shot.”
The way things are going, they won’t be sophisticated much longer, Meeks thought, and when that happens, they’ll likely try and shoot someone themselves. He gave the big man an automatic nod of agreement.
“I knew almost immediately that Harper wasn't going to take the bait on my accommodation offer,” Hogmeyer continued, still twiddling his wand. “I drew the talk out however, played with him a little to give myself time to get a measure of the man. And that measure turned out to be th
at I didn't want his type anywhere near my city. But, of course, I couldn’t let him leave with such beautiful, big, blue ship. That would be a crime to me and my city.”
“Indeed.”
“So, Meeks, how to dispose of such a man without attracting attention while simultaneously keeping hold of his ship?”
The big man was clearly enjoying the sound of his own voice. Meeks was enjoying it less so. “How indeed.”
“The trick is to always have a plan B, a backup plan if you like, something that is already organized and ready to go. My pinpoint instantly came to mind. That ship that you so expertly analyzed as being half decent, Meeks, is actually half dead. It’s been sitting down in docking bay 32 of my best hangar for a while now, nestled amongst my finest ships, just waiting for an opportunity to serve its purpose.” Hogmeyer snatched up his control wand and, giving it a wave at the huge window, brought up an enlarged the camera view of hangar 14.
Meeks turned stiffly and took in the image. “I see Captain Harper already has the ship on the launching pad,” he observed dutifully.
Hogmeyer’s brow creased. Grunting an inaudible reply, he pressed a few buttons on his wand that bought officer Dalton's face onto the screen.
“Do you not like being the head of my hangar security team, Dalton? Want to get yourself demoted, is that it?” The security man began to blurt an explanation, but Hogmeyer cut him short. “What the hell am I seeing? I told you to inform me the moment Harper and his crew were ready to launch.”
“Yes, sir, I was just about to contact you and let you know. In fact, I've just come off the comm to Captain Harper this very moment. He wanted to check personally that you were aware of their departure.”
“Did he now?” Hogmeyer’s brow creased a little further. “You make sure they don't move an inch before I get down there, or you'll be scrubbing Lucky Deuces' holding cells for the rest of your days. You understand me, Dalton?”
“Loud and clear, sir. They're not—”
Hogmeyer whipped the image of the still speaking man from the screen with a swish of his wand. He looked back at Meeks. “I'm surrounded by incompetent morons.”
Meeks knew the feeling.
“Where was I?”
“Backup plans,” Meeks offered, “plan Bs.”
Hogmeyer grunted and nodded. “What makes a man like me truly great at what I do is that I leave nothing to chance. I make plans, and then I make backup plans; therefore, I can be flexible simply because I'm prepared to be flexible. That dodgy little Delta Pinpoint is one of hundreds of backup plans that I’ve got readily prepared about my city. The craft may look intact even to someone like Harper, who seems to know his ships, but I know differently.”
Hogmeyer zoomed in on the launch pad and beamed a green laser pointer from his wand directly at the image of the Pinpoint. “You see, Meeks, Delta Pinpoints would be ranked pretty poorly were it not for their one redeeming factor: the P-Blast 33 thruster.”
Meeks tried his best to keep his eyes alert as he watched the green laser pointer hover over the huge, cannon-like thruster that was sticking out of the ship’s rear.
I acquired this particular craft from a crew of colonists who’d narrowly escaped a pirate attack shortly after Earth saw its end. The P-Blast thruster was damaged in the attack, and the poor buggers had to crawl through space relying entirely on the ship’s cruising thrusters.” Hogmeyer indicated a line of smaller thrusters poking out from the lower portion of the ship’s rear. “Those thrusters rely on a secondary, much weaker engine. So weak, in fact, that it took them over a month to get here. The ship’s main engine is still intact, but without the big P-Blast thruster, it’s absolutely redundant.”
“Ah,” Meeks replied and managed to turn to his boss and raise an eyebrow.
Hogmeyer grinned. If it weren’t for the yellow teeth, the grin might’ve almost had a schoolboy edge to it.
“You see, Meeks, that P-Blast thruster you see there doesn't actually exist. It was blown almost clean away during the attack.”
This statement caused Meeks’ other eyebrow to rise unforced.
The big man chuckled at the sight. “You're confused? Unsurprising. Let me explain. A man of my intellect understands the importance of acquiring useful contacts in many different fields. A few of my contacts are deeply involved in advanced technologies—technologies that are still far from being revealed to the public at large, the little people that make up ninety-nine percent of the population…little people like you, Meeks.” Hogmeyer stood up and snatched the holo-cube off the desk. “What you won't be aware of is that the technology involved in your little holo-cube here took a rather substantial leap forward shortly before Earth was destroyed. That big P-Blast thruster you're looking at is actually the very latest in hologram technology.”
Meeks took a couple of steps towards the screen and peered at the image. He couldn’t deny that a spark of interest had been piqued within his bored brain.
Hogmeyer chuckled again. “Good, eh? There’s not a hint of flicker like you see in those graphs of yours. You could have your nose right up against that bloody great thruster, and you’d never know that it didn't actually exist, not until you got close enough to pass right through it, that is.” Hogmeyer barked a laugh and sat back in his chair. “And it’s all down to a wonderful piece of technological wizardry that's not much bigger than your little cube here.”
Meeks continued to peer at the image, not entirely sure that he wasn’t the one getting conned. On the screen, the big thruster looked so real.
“Looks even better in the flesh,” Hogmeyer said as if reading his thoughts. “And there’s more icing on the cake. These new hologram devices are cheap…not cheap like your suit, Meeks, but cheap enough.”
Meeks turned to see that his boss was beaming now.
“In fact, they're so cheap, I went and stuck two of them in that little Pinpoint. You know why, Meeks?'
“A backup?” Meeks suggested, turning back to the screen.
“You're catching on. What if one of them were to malfunction and that big thruster was to suddenly disappear? I leave nothing to chance, Meeks, and that's what makes me great at what I do.”
“Forgive me,” Meeks said after a moment’s thought, “but with the main engine and the rest of the ship intact, wouldn't it be better just to replace the big, um…P-Blast thruster and keep the ship for yourself?”
“You insult me with you dumb questions,” Hogmeyer replied, his grin faltering slightly. “Don't you think such a thing would have occurred to me? The technologies and materials used in the construction of that thruster are extremely unique and costly. Like I said, the thruster is what gave the ship its impressive speed. It’s worth ten times the rest of the ship, engines included. Added to that is the fact that the factory where the bloody things were made was on Earth. Even if it had been worth replacing, it would have been impossible.” Hogmeyer paused for a moment, contemplating the image. “Still, it’s a shame to let that main engine go even if it was only worth a pittance. But it served its purpose and satisfied Harper's physical inspections—had his grubby hands all over the thing. I'm fortunate that the P-Blast thruster isn't more accessible else that thorough bastard might have tried running his hands all over that too.”
Meeks finally turned from the screen. His boss was mumbling now, more to himself than his one-man audience.
As if using the act to clear his thoughts, the big man once again leaned back in his chair and sniffed. “Now, I know what you're thinking, Meeks…”
Meeks hoped to God that wasn’t true; he’d just been thinking what a pathetic and idiotic amount of effort the whole scam was.
“…You’re thinking, ‘Very clever, but what happens when they try and use the main engine and it fails due to the lack of thruster?’”
Just shoot the bloody lot of them and get it done. “Yes, sir, you snatched the thought right out of my mind.”
His boss let the sarcasm slide, perhaps too caught up in his own genius.
“Yet another thing that an ignorant little man like you is probably unaware of is that there's a far-reaching field that emanates around my entire city, a safety bubble if you like. This safety bubble, among other things, prevents the activation of deep space engines within its borders. It helps minimize dangers of kamikaze or just plain incompetent pilots. Harper will have to wait until they’ve flown the ship out of that bubble before they get a chance to utilize the main engine and its non-existent thruster. The bubble provides plenty enough distance. They'll be well away from my city and out of the view of my more sensitive clientele.”
Meeks nodded then realized his boss was looking at him expectantly.
“Any questions, Meeks? Isn’t that dull brain of yours even slightly curious as to what’s going to stop them turning back around when the thruster turns out to be a dud? What if they come back here for some half-arsed attempt at revenge?”
All Meeks could manage was a shrug. That made the big man sneer in disgust, but it was all the encouragement he needed to continue.
“There's a rather interesting result when one attempts to activate a deep space engine—such as the one nestled in the back of that Pinpoint—when the ship’s thruster isn’t functioning or indeed when there is no thruster. I once witnessed the result myself a few years back, and I can assure you, Meeks, it’s something akin to activating a rather spectacular bomb. All I’ll lose will be one near-worthless ship. What I’ll gain is a huge blue ship and Harper and his band of idiots disposed of nice and neatly. All achieved in a way that keeps my clientele none the wiser, my reputation intact, and my artistic mind pleasantly satisfied.”
“I'm impressed,” Meeks said, still not feeling anywhere near. The hologram looked impressive, but his boss could hardly take credit for that. “And how does your little gift, the chained golden die that the grubby girl was swinging about her head, fit into your master plan?”
“Ah, very perceptive of you, Meeks. Another of my little backup plans. It’s entirely possible that Harper could play it safe and hold off using of the deep space engine until he's given himself time to do a more thorough inspection. God forbid he might unravel my little deception before he's gone and blown himself up. It would be a shame to have a man like that lurking in space with revenge on his mind. So, in answer to your question, that rather beautiful gold die has a clever little sensor and activator hidden in it. As soon as the Pinpoint craft leaves the city’s safety bubble, the sensor will automatically activate the ship’s deep space engine. Boom!” Hogmeyer bellowed the word with a theatrical wave of his long arms.