by Chris Lowry
“That?” Tinker grinned and clapped Bat on the shoulder. “We don’t worry about that. We’ve got our very own-”
Bat grabbed his finger and twisted, ending his thought with a yelp.
“We’re safer together,” Bat said. “That’s all he was going to say.”
Right, Mona Lisa nodded. She’d get the pilot alone later, give him an eyeful and find out what he had planned to say.
In the meantime, she watched the Farmer and his family as they pulled into the station at Musk.
The rest of her plan involved getting them settled, selling the railcars to someone who could strip them for parts, and getting the hell off Mars.
They still had a mission to accomplish.
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
“Are we gonna talk about the elephant in the room? Tinker asked.
The takeoff went off like clockwork once Tinker fed their coordinates to Junebug through the console.
“There is not enough space for an elephant in this ship,” said Junebug.
“It's a metaphor,” Tinker snapped.
“I think you mean euphemism,” Mona Lisa corrected him.
“I know what I mean and we ain't talking about it. Why?”
“What would you like to discuss Tinker?”
“You,” he pointed. “Him. What happened back on Mars.”
“Which part?”
“The part where we didn't have to sneak on a base because you are somebody who Colonels deliver hover Jeeps to apparently.”
“He was just being nice.”
“Right, said Tinker. And I'm the freaking Prime Minister of Mars.”
“I didn't vote for you,” said Mona Lisa.
“Look, I'm being serious. After you disappeared-”
“Ran away,” said Bat.
“Yeah, after that. We got the FTL drive and as we were leaving, the Troops showed up.”
“And they let you go?”
“They let me go. I mean except for the whole they can shoot you with laser eyeballs thing and the shoving at the end, they were a swell group of guys.”
“They shoved you?” Bat quirked the corner of his lips.
“Well maybe I tripped,” said Tinker. “But they invited him to go see somebody.”
“You knew somebody?” Mona Lisa glanced at the guard.
“I know a lot of some bodies," he answered.
“I bet you do."
“You don't get it,” Tinker raised his voice. They sent six of them to ask him and they were afraid of him. Him!"
Mona Lisa studied him closer.
"Why were they afraid Bat?"
"He was misreading the situation."
"I wasn't misreading nothing, Mate. I know what I saw."
"Tinker?” Mona Lisa asked in a soft voice. "Did the Troops have on their helmets?"
"Yeah."
"So is it possible you didn't see their faces?"
"I heard it in their voices."
"Voice boxes, " Bat added. "Troops use fully contained helmets and relay their commands through external speakers."
"See, how does he know that?"
"I read."
Tinker crossed his arms and settled against the bulkhead.
"Then who invited you to talk?"
"To tea."
"To what?"
"The Base Commander invited me to tea."
"He invited you to tea time?" Tinker sniffed.
"I have manners," said Bat. "I can take tea."
"One lump or two," said Mona Lisa.
"Just lemon."
"You expect me to believe the Troops just showed up to invite you to take tea with the base commander?"
" I don't expect you to believe anything. I'm just telling you what happened," said Bat.
Tinker threw up his hands.
"Unbelievable," he said and maneuvered toward the cockpit.
"He also told me something."
"Finally!" The pilot paused. " Now we're getting somewhere. What did he say?"
"The Prime Minister has issued warrants for us for theft of government property."
"Well how did he know by then?"
"That's what Base Commander thought was funny about it. He got the orders before we showed up."
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
"Tinker?"
"Yeah?"
"Why are we heading toward an asteroid belt?"
"You noticed that?"
"Junebug told me."
"Yeah, about that. I need to stop someplace on the way."
"And you're just now telling us?"
"Well you've been kinda busy mate."
"Not too busy for you to tell me we're going into Marauder territory."
"Just the tip."
"You can play that game with the whores you buy, but I don't take the tip," Mona Lisa joked.
"We're not stopping," Bat inserted himself between them. "Take us back on course."
Tinker kept his hand on the yoke.
"This is our course."
"Junebug," Bat ordered. "Adjust course."
"Negative," she answered. "I am unable to adjust course."
Bat raised his eyebrows and glared at Tinker.
"You locked her out."
Tinker shrugged.
"Guess so."
"Can he do that?" Bat asked Mona Lisa.
She shrugged too.
"It is his ship."
"I told you mate, I've got secrets. Tons of em. You forget about my rocket powers already."
"We're not going in there."
"I can't hear you over all the debris pinging off my view screen. You might want to strap in for this," said the pilot. "Bet you wish you had a nickel for every guy you've said that to."
He wiggled his eyebrows over at Mona Lisa in the co-pilot seat.
“I can unlock it,” said Bat.
He started to turn to go to the workstation in the cargo hold.
“Really wish you wouldn’t, Mate.”
“Why?”
“Cause we’re there.”
He aimed at a giant asteroid that slowly spun on a horizontal access, spraying miniscule tails of debris as it did, creating the small rock storm that currently bounced off their hull.
The view screen showed them a flat narrow surface with industrial mining equipment attached, smoke billowing from a hole in the rock.
Tinker swooped the ship in and matched the rotation of the rock, and settled the ship with a grinding shudder.
“Not bad,” Mona Lisa congratulated him.
“If I had a nickel for every woman that whispered that in my ear,” he winked at her.
“You might have two to rub together.”
“I’ll give you one to rub up on me,” he unbuckled and went to the cargo hold, not waiting for her response.
“Huh,” she said as she followed him.
She wondered why the brush off from their banter hurt her feelings a little bit.
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
Tinker began hauling his suit out of a cargo closet.
Bat stopped him.
“Why are we here?”
“Tinker has been poisoned,” Junebug stated as a hologram appeared in the middle of the cargo hold floor.
Bat stared at her.
“Your precision is getting better,” he observed. “What do you mean poisoned?”
“Back in Musk, I ran into a guy. He poisoned me to get me to deliver a package in exchange for the antidote.”
Tinker lipped his licks.
“You’re serious?”
The pilot nodded.
“There was a note and everything. Tell him Junebug.”
“There was a note and everything.”
“See.”
“No,” said Bat. “We’re in and out in ten minutes.”
Tinker nodded and finished dressing. He pulled up exterior cameras on the view screen in the cargo hold and whistled between his teeth.
"What a shithole."
"You can say that again," Mona Lisa muttered
out of the side of her mouth.
"What a shi-"
"We heard you," Bat stopped him.
"Yeah, but she's right. It's so bad it needs to be said twice."
He studied the layout through the view screen in the cockpit.
"I don't like the looks of it," he said.
"You flew us here," Bat reminded him.
"Yeah, but I don't have to like it."
"We can leave."
Tinker thought about the package in his quarters, the one he was supposed to deliver to some guy on the mining colony or die.
"No, let's get it over with."
"Us?"
He shot an alarmed look at Bat.
"You're not coming with me?"
"This is your errand."
"Yeah, but..."
"But?"
"I thought you would have my back."
"Are you expecting trouble?"
"No."
"But trouble does seem to find him," Mona Lisa said. "I'll go with you."
"Like hell," Bat said.
"What?"
"You ran away once."
"I told you I won't do that again," she pointed to the bleak exterior of the ship. "Besides, where am I going to go?"
Bat seemed to consider this and sniffed.
"Is that a yes?" Tinker guessed.
Bat nodded.
"Alright, the band’s back together. Junebug, stay here and hold down the fort."
"Do I have a choice?"
"You could go back in your cube and we could carry you," Tinker told the AI.
"I will not return to the cube," she informed him.
"Suit yourself."
"I don't know what the atmosphere's like in these bio domes," he said. "But it's probably a smart idea to stay in a helmet. The air in there is probably going to be breathable."
"Probably?" Mona Lisa hauled her second-hand spacesuit out of the storage compartment and began dressing.
Tinker stopped to watch so he could appreciate every shimmy and wiggle.
She shot a glance at Bat, who suited up and ignored her.
"These miners pop into gas pockets all the time and their air scrubbers usually aren't top of the line or maintained to begin with," Tinker said as she hid away all the good parts under the shapeless fabric of the suit.
He stepped into his quarters to retrieve the package.
"What's in it?" she asked as she returned to the cargo hold.
"I don't know."
"You didn't open it?"
"No way. That guy poisoned me just to deliver it. No telling how it's booby trapped or something."
He held it gently between two hands and carried it to the airlock.
"Will you do the honors?"
Mona Lisa checked with Bat, who sealed the helmet as she pulled hers on. Tinker maneuvered his head into his helmet by the hatch and locked it down with a practiced twist of his shoulders.
Bat gave her a nod and she opened the airlock.
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
They stepped out of the ship and landed on the crumbling surface with weighted boots.
“I don’t like this,” said Bat.
He studied the layout in front of them. There was a second vessel parked nearby, large enough for a dozen men, which was the normal contingent for a small mining operation like this.
If it held true to form, the men would use it as sleeping and living quarters, working two twelve earth hour shifts in the narrow hole below.
A metal contraption dangled over a dark hole drilled into the asteroid.
“You know what they’re mining here?” Mona Lisa’s voice came over the radio in his headset.
He glanced up at the thin temp dome sometimes used by mining operations. This one looked third hand, with visible cracks in the glass.
Better to keep the masks on, he thought.
“No idea,” he said.
“Is it explosive?”
Tinker paused mid-step.
“I didn’t even consider that.”
A lot of asteroids contained gas and air pockets that did not react well when the drill bit hit them.
It was just one of the risks miners faced in an attempt to gain a fortune. If the spinning bit hit an ore deposit and sent a spark into a gas pocket, it could blow the dome off the landing site.
If a large enough piece of debris hit the glass, it could shatter and spin them all out into the void.
“Back to the ship,” Bat said.
“We’re almost done,” Tinker whined. “I’ve got to do this.”
His voice was high pitched and scared over the radio.
“We’ll be alright,” Mona Lisa soothed. “Let’s just get it over with.”
“You, back to the ship,” Bat instructed. “It will make it easier for me to watch just him.”
She thought about arguing.
A plume of smoke shot out of the hole in the rock, followed by the bodies of six men scrambling for cover.
She nodded.
Bat was right. She would be safer in the ship, and he could focus on getting him and Tinker in and out.
Besides, it was just a delivery.
Bat watched her return to the ship and waited for the airlock hatch to close before he escorted Tinker toward the hole in the rock.
“That was nice of you to look out for her like that,” the pilot said. “Makes me feel better you’ve got my back.”
“Just deliver the package, get the cure and let’s get out of here. I don’t like it.”
“You keep saying that,” Tinker observed.
“I’ve got good reason.”
Tinker saw the reason as they got closer. Six swarthy miners glared at the interlopers as they approached. The men were hard looking. Black rock dust covered every inch of them, turning them into coal colored monsters.
“What the hell do you want,” a burly boulder looking man rested his thick mitt on the butt of a blaster pistol.
Tinker hoped he didn’t pull it and shoot, but if he did, he hoped the man shot Bat. The guard was laser proof, the pilot was not.
But no one shot them.
Tinker held out the box in his hand.
“Hakim sent me.”
One of the men in the back shouted and skipped closer to them.
“My man!” he shouted and danced around Tinker. “We almost shot you, my man. You don’t know how close you came to dying just then. We thought you were claim jumping.”
“Do you have a claim?” Bat asked.
“Don’t get technical my man,” said the miner. “What did Hakim send me?”
He took the box from Tinker and opened it, joy lighting his eyes.
“You have no idea! He sent them,” the miner called over his shoulder to the others and earned a small cheer.
“Can I get the antidote now?”
The miner tilted his head in confusion.
“Antidote?”
“Yeah, Hakim poisoned me to deliver these to you.”
The miner laughed. He shouted something Arabic over his shoulder and the others began laughing too, pointing at Tinker.
“Just give the man the antidote,” Bat growled. “And we’ll be on our way.”
"I don't think you get it my man."
"Get what?"
"What's going here my man."
"What is going on here?" Bat asked.
It was tough to get a full read on the situation due to the cloying smoke that filled the narrow confines of the cavern hewn into the floating rock.
Add to that the antiquated second hand helmets on their space suits and he was feeling on the verge of paranoid.
"You're just a delivery boy my man," the swarthy miner with the heavy accent keyed over the radio.
Bat could see the surly curl of his thin lips pucker into a sneer through the faceplate.
"You're not gonna die."
"I'm not?" Tinker blurted in confusion.
It made the radio squawk with feedback.
"no way my man. My brother just
needed to get me some of my momma's homemade cookies."
"Cookies?" Tinker's face fell.
"Yeah my man. She's got an old earth recipe and everything. Best thing you ever tasted.
"You have got to be kidding me," Bat tossed up his hands.
"No my man, they really are. I'd let you taste one, but my supply is kinda limited."
He showed them the box Tinker had passed to him.
"I got poisoned for cookies?" Tinker gulped.
"No my man. You just delivered them."
"Come on," Bat yanked the pilot's arm. "We're done here."
Tinker stumbled along behind the guard, struggling to wrap his head around the new found lease on life.
"I thought I was going to die," he said to Bat's back.
But the man in front of him stalked through the passage, boots clomping on the temporary metal deck that provided precarious footing over the uneven drilled terrain. Tinker could feel the anger washing off him in waves.
"Hey Bat?"
"What?"
"Could we maybe not tell Mona Lisa about this? I don't want her to get the wrong impression about me."
"That you're an idiot?"
"Ouch mate. That cuts deep, don't you think? No, that I, you know, can get fooled so easy."
Bat grunted but held his tongue. Tinker waited until they reached the airlock of the NS-17.
"Please Bat?"
The guard lowered his head for a moment and nodded.
Tinker broke into a huge grin and hit the pad to open the hatch.
"Cured at last! Cured at last!" he shouted in a preachy sing song as he stepped into the cargo hold. "Thank the stars I'm cured at last."
"Hey Mona Lisa," he shouted to the cockpit. "Want to make sure everything works like it's supposed to?"
Bat stepped in after him and tensed up as the airlock cycled closed.
"Somethings wrong."
There was no answer from the front of the ship. No movement either.
"Junebug," he ordered.
But the AI didn't answer him either.
Tinker took two steps and ducked down to peer into the cockpit.
"She's gone," he turned to Bat. "She ran away again."
Bat stared at the controlled chaos that was the cargo hold. No matter how often he organized, cleaned and picked up somehow it always returned to a state that resembled post Martian tornadic activity.
"Not this time," he said.