ARMS War for Eden

by Arseneault, Stephen

  Harris flashed his fake badge. “DDI investigator.”

  The attendant replied, “We need a credit deposit anyway. Sorry. The manager will comp you at the end, but our policy requires the deposit.”

  Harris looked at Tawn. “Give her the credits.”

  Tawn returned and angry stare. “Put the deposit on your account.”

  Harris leaned in with a low voice. “Just hold up your store. There’s people waiting behind us.”

  Tawn shook her head. “No. Use yours.”

  “I don’t have enough.”

  Tawn asked, “What?”

  Harris held up his store. “I don’t have enough.”

  He turned to the attendant. “Payday tomorrow.”

  The attendant smiled. “I need the deposit if you want to go in.”

  Tawn held out her wrist. Forty-four credits in her account were marked as a deposit. The attendant waved them through.

  Tawn stopped. “You have four credits to your name?”

  Harris frowned. “I spent it all on those arms. Was expecting to get paid for them.”

  Harris glanced back at a staring Tawn. “Look at all that food. You ever see anything so beautiful?”

  The stump turned to look over the fifteen meter long premium buffet line. His mouth began to water. Tawn hurried to the front of the line, grabbing three plates. A variety of steaks and various carved meats were available. Sauces ranged from traditional to spicy to insanely hot.

  Slugs and stumps were heavy eaters when they had the chance. Their metabolisms were slower than the average human, and they could easily consume twice as much. While at war, meals were often not convenient and more often not available. The two bio-engineered humans tore into their high stacked plates like ravenous animals. Several families having their meals at the tables beside them got up to move.

  Both returned for seconds with their plates piled high with more meats and desserts. Proteins and carbs were the staple diet of a Biomarine. Harris and Tawn feasted as they also consumed a dozen premium ales each. When the feeding frenzy was over, there were two full bellies protruding under the table.

  Harris leaned back with a satisfied look on his face. “I could get used to eating like that. I’d weigh five hundred pounds in three months, but it would be so worth it.”

  Tawn released a loud burp, driving another disgusted couple from a nearby table. “Yeah. That hit the spot. Any more and I think I’d split open. Go ahead and call the manager over. I don’t like the hold being placed on my credits.”

  Harris nodded, waving over a busboy and asking for a manager. Just under a minute later, a young man, neatly dressed and barely out of primary school, came to their table.

  “Can I help you?”

  Harris pulled his leather fold, flashing his phony badge. “Consider our meal a contribution to the DDI for your safety and security.”

  The manager smiled. “I’ll need to see some credentials.”

  Harris sat back, putting his arm up on the back of his chair. “I just showed you my badge.”

  The manager shook his head as he gestured toward his neatly pressed shirt. “You just showed my your discount card for the Sheriff’s Dry-cleaners. I go there too. This establishment has no problem comping the meal in support of our global defense, but I need to see some real ID.”

  The snarky young man leaned in with a grin. “There are those who would try to scam us, which is why we require a deposit. Please, sir, show me your credentials and we can all be on our way.”

  Harris stood with a scowl. “This is the last time I eat here. And if this station gets invaded, I’ll be standing outside laughing as this place burns to the ground!”

  Harris turned and walked quickly toward the exit door. Tawn looked up at the manager with a pursed smile. Standing, she hurried after Harris as he hit the exit door going out into the promenade.

  Tawn glowered. “What the heck? I just paid forty-four credits for that!”

  Harris replied, “It was your hare-brained scheme. And that’s why I always keep my requests under ten credits. Nobody cares to question that amount.”

  Tawn sighed as she looked at her account. “This is just great. I now have five credits to my name.”

  Harris laughed. “Look on the bright side. You have a full belly and more credits than me. I have a grand total of four. Had I made my sale yesterday, that number would be sitting at over eight thousand.”

  Tawn pulled back. “You make that much from a trade?”

  Harris winced. “Well… no, not really. There was the cost of the goods, about fifty-eight hundred in this case. And the cost of the regular and the jump fuel, about eighteen hundred there. That was gonna leave about eight hundred credits when I was done. That’s half a ship payment every month. Only have to do that twice a month for the next twenty years.”

  Tawn reached up, rubbing her forehead. “So my haul after we do this is gonna be about four hundred credits? For robbing someone?”

  Harris replied, “Now wait a minute. I never agreed to those terms. I’m the one who took all the financial risk here. You’re just getting paid for… well turning on your boss. I was thinking something more like ninety – ten. I need those credits to pay my debts.”

  Tawn took a deep breath. “So do I. Look. This deal doesn’t work without me. If I don’t roll over on her, you don’t get your merchandise. Why would I risk prison or possibly death over eighty credits? She would already be paying me sixty.”

  “Death? From that bag of bones? You’re a slug, I’m a stump. We were born to fight. She doesn’t stand a chance against either one of us, let alone two. I tell you what… I’ll go fifteen.”

  Tawn laughed. “You’ll go fifty or the deal’s off. There won’t be any negotiating. You screwed up and didn’t check your cargo last time. I shouldn’t have to pay for that. We’re either partners or I just go back to her and do my job. And besides, you owe me a Grand Buffet with a premium beverage. That’s twenty-two credits by itself.”

  Harris stood in silent denial for most of a minute before returning a response. “Fine. Equal shares.”

  Holding up a finger he pointed. “But we split costs. And that meal we just finished… consider that your buy-in to the partnership.”

  Tawn took in a deep breath as she scowled while thinking it over. “Agreed. Equal shares and I’ll forgive the meal.”

  Farker began to emit a tone that he was running low on charge. Harris reached up under his chin, flipping the power switch to off.

  Tawn asked, “You aren’t gonna charge him?”

  Harris replied, “Not here. They charge a premium for the power used while docked.”

  Tawn laughed. “What’s that cost you a credit? Can’t even afford to power your dog?”

  “Yep. That’s 25 percent of what I currently have. I’ll hook him up when I’m on ship’s power. It’s cheaper.”

  Tawn looked around the cramped cabin of the Bangor. “So what do we do now?”

  Harris replied, “We wait. It’s all we can afford.”

  Chapter 4

  _______________________

  During the forty hours that followed, two eating establishments were scammed out of exactly eighteen credits, not including the stiffed tips. Tawn returned to the docking slip two hours early to wait for her boss. Harris camped out just around a near corner, watching the incoming board for the Fargo to arrive.

  The Manten Yards produced trading ship pulled into port. The outer hatch opened. Baxter Rumford stepped out.

  Tawn was waiting. “You get cargo?”

  Bax nodded. “More than last time. And I have a buyer on the hook.”

  Harris rounded a corner, catching Bax off-gaurd. “Hello, Red.”

  Bax looked on nervously, not having expected ever to see Harris Gruberg again. “Goober? You want something?”

  Harris replied, “I do. I want more of what you’re selling. And I’ll pay a 10 percent premium this time. That last cargo went fast and my buyers are itching for more.”


  Bax thought for a moment. “Wasn’t expecting you back here. Didn’t think you liked me.”

  Harris smiled. “What’s not to like? Oh, and you’ll want to be careful out there. I got chased by a NE destroyer, ditched them three times before I slipped away for good.

  “Anyway, the payday was excellent and I could move as much cargo as you can provide, one trip at a time, of course. I won’t tell you what colonies or who the buyers are, but they are eager for more.”

  Bax raised her chin. “I could go 15 percent. I’ll have to pay my current buyer a residual for canceling. Just good business, you know.”

  Harris nodded. “I can go fifteen.”

  He looked around. “Although I would prefer we make our arrangements someplace else. These docking bays have eyes.”

  Bax gave a furtive glance. “You meet me in the same place as last time, six hours from now and you’ll have your goods.”

  Harris grinned. “I’ll be there.”

  The stump Biomarine spun on his heels as he turned to walk away.

  Bax turned to Tawn with a grin. “Idiot.”

  Tawn looked out toward her future accomplice in crime. “How much cargo do we have?”

  Bax smirked. “Maybe three times the last haul. This goes down and I might feel generous enough to pay you for last month already.”

  Tawn nodded. “I could get aboard with that. Wasn’t able to find anything while you were gone. There was one gig as a bouncer, but it only paid eight credits for an eight hour shift. Free booze though.”

  Bax looked her up and down. “Hope you didn’t drink them dry. You look like you put on a couple pounds. Come on. I’m feeling generous. I’ll buy you a beer at the Emporium. I need some lunch.”

  Tawn hesitated. “Yeah, thanks but they asked me to not come back there for a while. There was a bit of a ruckus, so I’ll have to pass. I can wait here at the ship for you.”

  Bax scowled as she turned. “Suit yourself. Don’t expect such a generous offer next time.”

  ***

  The docking computer took over and the Bangor was soon connected with the Fargo.

  Bax stood in the docking tube. “Before you come over I need to see proof of your credits.”

  Harris stood in his airlock. “What… you don’t trust me? After all we’ve been through?”

  Bax replied, “Just show me the credits, Stump. I don’t have time to fart around with the likes of you.”

  Tawn pressed the blaster tip of her Fox-40 into the small of Baxter’s back. “You have time today.”

  Bax turned her head slowly to look down at the weapon. “What is this?”

  Harris walked forward. “This is payback for you adding a transmitter to that last cargo. I had to dump it before I got vaporized. The way I see it, you owe me this. Any excess, I’ll be happy to pay you the fair market value for, just not until after I’ve sold it.”

  Bax scowled. “This is robbery, plain and simple.”

  Harris laughed. “Who you gonna report us to? The trade commissioner? I don’t think so. I should zap you right here and now for setting me up. All I’d have to do with this ship is aim it at that nearest star, letting nature take its course. We’d walk away free and clear. Doubt there’s anyone back there that would miss you.”

  Bax put on a pouty face. “My elderly mother depends on me. If I don’t go back, she dies.”

  Tawn spat. “That the same mother you said was a thug? Used to beat you every day? I’m thinking you’re mother probably disowned you decades ago.”

  Bax shook her head. “I have friends. They’ll catch you.”

  Harris replied as he placed the tip of his own Fox-40 onto her forehead. “Your friends, which I doubt you have any of anyhow, don’t know where you are, who you’re with, or what you’re doing. That would be sloppy business on your part given what we do. And I don’t take you as being that sloppy.

  “So here’s what’s happening. I’m gonna take that ‘pig sticker’, as you call it, off your hands. Then you’re gonna start dragging boxes over to the Bangor.”

  Bax huffed. “I don’t carry boxes. That’s what I got the slug for.”

  Tawn pressed with her weapon as she leaned in close. “Slug doesn’t work for you anymore. Now get your skinny ass over there and start moving those containers!”

  Tawn Freely and Harris Gruberg held grins for fifteen minutes as Baxter Rumford struggled with each and every package. By the time the last container was in transition, beads of sweat dripped from Bax’s forehead.

  Tawn said, “You’re gonna need a shower after this. You aren’t smelling so fresh. Hey, Harris, aren’t you glad we were engineered not to stink? I can go for a week without putting off B.O. Doesn’t seem to work that way for our lady-friend here.”

  Harris nodded. “Can’t say how many times I was disgusted by that from the regulars in the service. You non-bios have some major drawbacks.”

  Bax stopped, taking in several deep breaths as she placed her hands on her hips. “At least my face doesn’t look like somebody hit it with a shovel.”

  Tawn laughed, “You might even have to buy yourself a new outfit when you get back. Those yellow pit-stains… those aren’t gonna go over well while you’re parading yourself up and down that promenade.”

  The last of the containers was moved and stacked. An out of breath Baxter Rumford leaned over on one hand.

  Harris said, “Go. Get off my ship. You’re stinking the place up.”

  Bax passed a smiling Tawn as she stomped her way through the docking tube. Without a further word spoken, the airlock was closed, the docking tube retracted. The ships separated.

  ***

  A wormhole opened with a jump being made to the free space surrounding Chicago Port Station.

  Tawn asked, “I’m looking over the manifest. This is way more than we had last time. A hundred fifty-two repeaters. Two hundred twelve Foxes. Fifteen hundred charges. This is a gold mine. Who’s the buyer?”

  Harris half frowned, replying in a low voice. “We don’t have one.”

  Tawn asked, “What? What’d you say?”

  Harris replied, “I said we don’t have one. Last time out I was planning to freelance.”

  Tawn looked on in disbelief. “It’ll take us three months to move this stuff one at a time.”

  Harris scratched his bald head. “Best I’ve got is the rumor about Eden.”

  Tawn held up a hand. “Given what you said about the titanium and all, no way do I want to get involved in that.”

  Harris replied, “Not suggesting we do. Besides, that was just a rumor. I tell you what… I was heading to Farmingdale before. We might just jump out there to see what we can find.”

  Tawn thought for a moment. “Hold on. The first deal we had that went bad was with a Geldon trader. Wasn’t anything near this size, but we might be able to move a good chunk if nobody else has filled that hole. He must have had buyers ready.

  “And then there’s Cletus Dodger. I want to say he was heading to the colony on Bella III. Might be some ready-made sales there too.”

  Harris smiled. “I like the sound of both of those. You know, you just might make a decent partner after all.”

  Tawn nodded. “I’ll be the brains and… I’ll be the brawn.”

  Harris replied, “Yeah.” He paused. “No … wait!”

  ***

  The Bangor began to be buffeted as it entered the atmosphere of the planet Geldon. The single colony, Rumidon, located in the higher, temperate latitudes, was named after the probe that discovered the habitable area of the planet. Geldon space was on the edge of where a jump drive could reach from Domicile.

  Many of the more than twelve thousand colonists who inhabited the rocky surface were miners, hoping to make a big find of a rare mineral. The only mines turning a profit were powerstripping bauxite, a mineral that was also plentiful on New Earth.

  The truce had taken the bottom out of the bauxite market, with cargoes becoming available for trade from a much clos
er New Earth. The population on Geldon had dropped by half in the two years since the signing of the truce. The rumor was that tourists interested in sport hunting had recently become a new revenue stream.

  Tawn held the arm of the copilot’s chair. “This ship… who’s the maker? I don’t recognize it.”

  Harris nodded. “There’s only about a half dozen left that are spaceworthy. It’s a Zwicker. The military stopped surplussing them about two centuries ago. When the jump drive fails you can’t get parts to repair it. So they wind up planetside in whatever system the drive died in. Not good for much other than hauling manure when in atmosphere. They’re heavy and hard to control.”

  Tawn tapped on the near wall. “What’s this beast made of?”

  Harris gripped the joystick tightly as the ship rocked and buffeted. “Back then, before the titanium alloy and electronic shields of today, they used a mix of depleted uranium and metallic carbide. The armor was made thick back then because the weapons they used were projectile.

  “Lots of rail guns, I’ve been told. This ship has two of them. Haven’t worked in a couple hundred years. Not that they would be legal anyway. Even if we wanted to bring them online, parts aren’t available for repairs.”

  Tawn smiled. “Rail guns… now that would be something to have.”

  Harris nodded. “As a consequence of this armor, she can take about a half dozen plasma rounds before her hull cracks. At least in theory she can. In practice, I know she can take at least four. She kept me alive when that destroyer was on my tail. That and making jumps. Her drive spins up almost instantly.”

  Tawn sat with her jaw dropped. “Wait… you took a plasma round from that destroyer in this?”

  Harris grinned as his thick neck did its best to hold his big head steady in the turbulence. “Four hits. Direct ones too. This box ain’t exactly spry when you’re trying to run. You’ll see it’s even less so when we have to head into Rumidon Port. In the atmosphere, she flies like she has a hundred head of cattle stampeding around inside her. But she’ll get us there.”

  The buffeting stopped and the Bangor began to drop like a stone. Harris enabled the retrojets and the flying refrigerator-shaped ship jerked and then briefly stabilized.