The Last Horizon

by Anthony Hartig

  Montrell sat at the same table every night surrounded by his henchmen and was visited by an assortment of characters throughout the evening. Some of his guests were older and seemed to have a dignified air about them, but I could surmise from their entourage of bodyguards that they were members of some of the city’s crime families. Montrell was connected, a ruthless up and coming boss who was getting attention in underground circles for his reputation for getting things done. It was obvious this club was just a cover for something bigger operating beneath the surface.

  The first time I saw Ms. Wells she was wearing a slightly oversized leather bomber jacket and a black fedora. Very retro, and the jacket was a good way to conceal the Cobalt automatic she carried in the shoulder holster. She didn’t dress like a typical pilot, but then again, what would I know about the younger generation. Nikki also wore heavy eyeliner and tight black leather pants and cowboy boots that made her look like she was fronting a neo-techno punk band.

  She was undoubtedly attractive, a petite brunette with a look of innocence that was out of place in this environment, but judging from the clientele’s reaction to her as she made her entrance, she was known by most in this locale.

  What I caught me off guard was the way she handled herself when someone more than twice her size physically tried to intimidate her; she defended herself in a manner that indicated training in close quarter combat. The moves she executed were precise and deadly. Not the kind taught in some woman’s self-defense course, but the kind that required study and discipline.

  As I made my way to Montrell’s table I could see that she was engaged in an argument with him about taking along a passenger to Nexus...me.

  Nikki

  “Nikki, I’d like you to meet an acquaintance of mine.” Kurlie grinned as he gestured for the stranger to sit down with us. “Fenmore Scott, this is Nikki Wells. The pilot that will get you to Nexus. Nikki, this is Fenmore Scott. Your passenger.”

  I eyed Scott as I shook his hand and sat back down. “A pleasure Mr. Scott.”

  “Likewise Ms. Wells.” Scott replied coyly.

  There was something a little off with this Scott character. After a few minutes of small talk, it dawned on me what it was that bothered me about this guy...Scott wasn’t one of Kurlie’s goons. The way he scanned his surroundings implied that he was unfamiliar with this environment. He wasn’t one of Kurlie’s henchmen.

  “Okay, Kurlie,” I resigned as I stared into his eyes hard for a sign of deception, “I think we may have ourselves a deal.”

  “Hey, great!” Kurlie’s smile widened as he clapped his hands together.

  “When do you need me to leave?”

  “Tonight. The cargo’s already being loaded into your ship.”

  “What? Tonight?” I gasped in shock.

  “Well it better be tonight, you’re due to set down in Nexus no later than the 24th.”

  “24th of what?”

  “24th of this month.”

  “Of this month? Kurlie, that’s in six days!”

  “Well, six-and-a-half if you include tonight.”

  “Have you lost your mind? Look at the chart! Kurlie, you see how far Nexus is--it’s over three parsecs!” I spouted and pointed at the map. “There’s no way I could cover this distance in six days. This trip will take six weeks.”

  “Oh come on, Nikki, you know how to get there in six days.”

  “How?”

  “All’s ya have to do is go through the Pipe.”

  “Ooooh, I see. That’s the catch.”

  “Why, what’s wrong? Now don’t tell me you’re scared of the Pipe.”

  “I’m scared out of my wits. Deal’s off, Kurl. Sorry Mr. Scott, you’ll need to find another flight to Nexus.”

  “What’s the matter, Nikki?” Kurlie grunted with dismay.

  “I’m not doing it. I’m not going through the Pipe. Forget it. No way!” I got up from the table shaking my head in disdain as I began to walk away.

  “Is there a problem Mr. Montrell?” Scott glared at Kurlie.

  “No, no,” Kurlie reassured Scott as he stood up, “I’ve got this under control.” Kurlie grinned. “Geez, I thought you were a real space jockey, Nikki. If someone would’ve told me that Nikki Wells had that little streak of yellow down her back, I never would’ve believed it.”

  “Don’t try to get a rise out me, Kurlie. I’m not yellow, I’m smart. It’s not gonna happen. I’ll see you around.”

  “Make it around eight o’clock. That’s as long as I can hold the job open.”

  “Goodbye Kurlie.”

  “Hey don’t go away mad, Nikki, it’ll just make it harder for ya to come back.”

  “I’m not coming back!” I barked as I headed for the door.

  Who did I think I was fooling anyway? I’m a smuggler, a space tick, and that’s all there is to it. I’m a runner and I’m damned good at it. I’ve taken some major risks over the years, but somehow or another the Federation never caught up with me. Sure there have been some close calls, and I’ll even admit I got a cheap thrill from being chased by patrols through asteroid fields, but they never got close enough to I.D. the Zephyr.

  I was reckless and driven by bravado back then, and to a large extent, the romantic notion of establishing a reputation among the rest of the runners; or at least to having bragging rights for my misadventures or exaggerated versions of them in dives like Curly’s Tavern.

  When I got home I grabbed the basics and stuffed them into my flight bag. The Cobalt was secured in its shoulder holster along with extra clips on my belt. A couple of other things I like to carry on my voyages were throwing spikes tucked in an ankle wrap, a tactical knife sheathed in my belt, and titanium razor knots mounted on a six foot whip disguised as a leather belt. A girl’s got to be prepared.

  I put on my flight suit and grabbed a spare that had been hanging in my closet for ages. The suit belonged to another pilot I used to mess around with until he disappeared over a year ago. To this day I still don’t know what happened to him.

  There were rumors floating around that his ship was hijacked during his last run, but nobody knows for sure. It hurts my heart when I think of him and look at the small holograph of us together. I miss his smile and voice.

  I packed a small bag, double-checked my shoulder holster and Cobalt before putting on my bomber jacket, and checked myself in the mirror one more time before putting on my hat. I had a cab drive me down to the launch port where my ship was docked.

  When I arrived at the Inter-port, Scott was waiting at the entrance wearing a flannel jacket. All he carried was a duffle bag and a backpack slung over one shoulder.

  “Good evening, Mr. Scott.” I smiled.

  “You can call me Scotty.” He replied dryly. “And good evening to you too, Ms. Wells.”

  “Nikki.” I nodded. “Here, I brought this for you.” I handed Scott the flight suit. “It looks like your size. You’re going to need it for the voyage. They’ve got lockers in the hanger where you can change.”

  “Thank you.”

  “We’d better get inside and get this clambake underway.”

  “Okay.”

  “Let me do the talking.” I said firmly as I picked up my bag.

  We walked casually through the hanger with our gear. There were a few mechanics tooling around with their maintenance droids on some of the larger commercial freighters but it looked like a slow night. It was perfect.

  When we got to the Zephyr, I set my gear down and turned to Scott. “You can change over there.” I pointed to a door that led to the pilot’s lounge. “Meet me back here in five. You can hang back and relax for a few minutes while inspect my vessel.”

  “Will do.”

  I walked slowly around the fuselage doing my preflight check on the atmospheric avionics and control surfaces along with the zero-grav retrojets when I saw Max working his way toward me from Dock 12. We had to go through “the ritual”.

  “Good evening, Nikki.” Max smiled as he offere
d his hand after tucking his c-pad under his arm. “Looks like the Blue Zephyr Starline is about to embark on another adventure, eh?”

  “How’ve you been, Max?” I nodded as I shook his hand. “They been keeping you busy around here?”

  “It’s a steady flow, and the hours are good. I’m up for a shift bid in a month.”

  “Moving to days?”

  “Yeah, like to spend some time with the family for a change.”

  “Don’t blame ya.”

  Scott had returned and nodded politely at Max as he stood quietly next to me looking casually around the hanger.

  “Max, this is Fenmore Scott, a friend of mine.” I smiled, “Fenny, this is Max, the shift manager.”

  “How do you do, sir?” Scott offered his hand.

  “Pleased to meet you Mr. Scott.” Max replied as they shook hands. “Okay, Nikki, let’s get started, shall we?” Max grinned as he looked at his pad and took a stylus from his pocket, “Name of ship?”

  “Blue Zephyr.”

  “Make?”

  “Aerodyne 1023, Series Mx40-1A Star Chaser.”

  “Propulsion?”

  “Primaries are Coltrane Plutonium Turbos with aftermarket Overture-12 retro-jets. Secondary sources are Watts & Rannon Magnetic Hyper-Drive Cores.”

  “Payload?”

  “Thirty-five thousand pounds of cosmetics and luxury consumables.”

  “Let’s go to page two,” Max said unceremoniously, “Pilot name?”

  “Nikki Wells.”

  “Age?”

  “28.”

  “License Class?”

  “Class-2 Pilot.”

  “Destination?”

  “Cassandra City, Venus.”

  “Passengers?”

  “One.”

  Max turned to Scott and pointed at him with his pen as he concentrated on the forms on his pad.

  “Name of passenger?”

  “Scott. First name, Fenmore.”

  “Passenger’s age?”

  “46.”

  “Citizenship?”

  “Earth.”

  Max turned his attention back to me. “Purpose of journey?”

  “Err, to visit friends.” I said sheepishly.

  “Aww common, Nikki,” Max replied in an incensed tone, “‘To visit friends?’”

  “Why, what’s wrong?”

  “Ya gotta gimme something better than that. The report does get read, ya know.”

  “Then what do you suggest?”

  “You could say something like ‘To visit your sick mother.’.”

  “Okay then, “To visit my sick mother”.”

  “But then you better have one, and she’d better be on Venus. Then ya gotta have the proper medical forms for confirmation…”

  “Look, Max,” I sighed, “why are you busting my chops? Just put anything down for us that sounds good. We have to get going if we’re going to make time.”

  “I don’t even want to ask the next question about having weapons on your persons...”

  “Just a Cobalt-22...”

  “I’m not hearing this.” Max grimaced as he rolled his eyes.

  “Max we’re stalling.”

  “Okay, okay, Nikki, don’t bite my head off, I’m just…” Max trailed off and looked at the floor.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “Nikki, don’t go.” Max said gravely as he looked me square in the eyes.

  “What? You telling me we can’t go?”

  “No, I’m not saying you can’t go, I’m just asking you not to.”

  “Max…”

  “Look, we both know what you’re doing and we both know where you’re going, I’m just asking you not to go. Don’t do it, Nikki. Walk away.”

  “Max, are you going to make a case out of this?”

  “Yes I am.” Max frowned. “I know how you’re going to deviate from your flightplan. I talked to Kurlie this afternoon. Don’t go Nikki.”

  “I have to.”

  “Well then don’t go through the Pipe.”

  “I’ve got no choice, Max, you know that.”

  “You know a couple of years ago I was in your shoes…”

  “Can we trade sea stories later, Max? I’ve got to get a move on.”

  “No! You’re gonna listen to what I have to say, Nikki,” Max snapped as he put his hand on my shoulder, “like I said, two years ago I was in your shoes. Like you I was gonna make a run. Like you I had to take the Pipe to make the time; and like you I had a bad feeling about it. I’d gone through the Pipe too many times before and I had demons nipping at my heels. I was scared. Scared of the Pipe, scared that I wouldn’t come back, and scared to face guys like Kurlie. But what was I gonna do? Being a runner was all I knew how to do.”

  “So what am I supposed to do?”

  “Walk away from it, Nikki. Don’t go. You can join Patrol.”

  “That’s absurd.”

  “No it’s not. Isn’t it better if people like us are in it? At least we understand, at least we’ve been there and can help out our own.”

  “I couldn’t do that.”

  “Why not? The pay is good, it’s clean…”

  “Bribery? That’s clean?”

  “Well may be not.” Max shrugged. “I’m only on the take as far as Departures and Flightplans are concerned, all the money in the world wouldn’t get the Zephyr off the pad if I didn’t think she was space-worthy. Don’t go, Nikki, or you won’t come back.”

  “What kind of thing is that to say!”

  “You heard me, you will not be coming back, Nikki. I know, you will NOT be coming back.”

  “Is there a problem here, Nikki?” Scott asked grimly as he eyed Max.

  “No. No problem, Scotty.”

  “Then we’ve better get going.” Scott interrupted.

  “Mr. Scott,” Max turned to address my passenger to try another angle, “do you have any idea what you and Nikki are about to do during your flight?”

  “No sir.”

  “Max, button it down.” I shot him a look hoping to shut him up.

  “It’s insanity...” Max insisted as he shook his head. “The Pipe can be unstable at times. You could end up only God knows where if it doesn’t tear you guys apart.”

  “Nikki, what the hell is he talking about? What is this pipe?”

  “Nothing, Scotty. Nothing to worry yourself over.”

  “You don’t know, do you Mr. Scott?” Max gasped as he shook his head unbelievingly with his eyes wide. “He doesn’t know, does he, Nikki? You haven’t told him. Remember what happened to Johnny?”

  “That’s enough Max!” I growled through clenched teeth. “That’s enough!”

  “He has the right to know!” Max blared.

  “What’s he talking about Nikki?” Scotty asked with concern as he looked at the fear in Max’s eyes.

  “Ignore him, Scotty, grab your things and let’s go.” I grimaced as I grabbed my gear. “See ya ‘round, Max.”

  “All right,” Max wilted, “You win, Nikki. I’m on the desk tonight so I’ll do what I can to keep the hounds off your trail until you get to Ceres Vesta. If you make it through the Pipe in one piece stay on the sealed frequency until you get contacted by Kurlie’s man. He’ll give you the final coordinates to a small landing strip on the outskirts of Fluture.”

  We shook hands as Scott and I stepped into the Blue Zephyr. A slight chill suspend itself in the dim cargo hold of the ship as I checked to see if Kurlie’s boys secured the payload properly while Scotty stuffed his bags in a stowage rack. One good thing about Kurlie’s goons, they knew how to pack things tight and fasten them down thoroughly. It was makeup all right. A lot of it. About thirty containers containing powders, soaps, perfume, and lipstick; padded, packed, and stacked about twenty feet high in two rows.

  Kurlie even had them pack a case of hundred year old whiskey up front with a large duffle bag containing half my money along with a note:

  Nikki,

  No hard feelings ok cupcake?
Money’s all there. Half now, and the rest when you get back home. Threw in a case of my finest booze as a bonus in case you want to whet your whistle when you get to Nexus. Yes, I know, that’s contraband too, but I figured you wouldn’t mind this kind since it’s for your personal use. Bon voyage, baby.