“That’s right.”
“That’s all I need to know. Let’s go find a doc.”
The five beings made their way toward Jing’s Town, passing hydroponic units, greenhouses, and ag chambers along the way.
A few minutes later, the quintet passed by a crooked sign announcing they were entering Jing’s Town. A man noticed them as they passed near the first of a cluster of buildings that made up the core of the settlement. “You folks need something?” he asked.
“A doc or medbot,” Teller replied. “Maybe a decent place to eat, if you have any recommendations.”
“Doc Lurl’s. Go straight, last one on the left,” the man said with a point down the street. “Good doc ‘cept when he’s drunk, but he’s got a top notch medbot for such occasions. Best place to eat is Jenkin’s. Next building right. See? The sign says Jenkin’s. That’s how you’ll know it.”
“Let me guess, you’re Jenkin?”
“That’s right. That don’t mean I’m not right. If it weren’t the best place to eat, I’d eat somewhere else. Say, you get caught up in the merc fracas?”
“You might say that.”
“What was it all about?”
“A bunch of greedy and violent beings fighting over something worth far less than they thought it was.”
“Something worth everything to their foes,” Ord added.
Teller performed a perfect double take at his friend. “Sometimes you scare me,” he said.
. . .
Teller and Ord closed the port airlock as the ramp retracted. The pair had just returned from on last bit of business they needed to attend, leaving a message on the spacer’s relay for Peachy, Brabs, and Ty, in case one of them happened by. It read,
FOR THE CREWS OF TBS MUM’S LAMENT II OR PS DARDANAL - ATTENTION: ARC LANCE LEFT MELTAN BECAUSE OF WORLD WAR. SHIP AND CREW STRAC. WILL EXPLAIN NEXT TIME.
Ned and Ho had ARC Lance ready to go as soon as the pair of knockabouts walked onto the command deck. Within minutes, they were ready to leave.
“Jing’s Town, this is ARC Lance departing,” Teller said as the Lance rose from the ground on repulsors.
“Fair travels and don’t knock anything over on the way out.”
“We’ll try and keep the damage to a minimum.”
“Give us fair warning next time by.”
“Will do. Thanks for having us. It was a blast.”
The Jing’s Town commo operator laughed.
Teller brought ARC Lance over Hell’s Belle’s position and carefully brought her down with the port engine oriented with its thruster pointed directly at the other ship’s engines. There was but five meters of space between the nose of the Lance and the dirt berm ahead.
“Isn’t there a danger to Merry Hell?” Ursula asked.
“Not that I care, but if I do this correctly, no,” Teller said. “I’m not going to torch her whole ship. I’m going to burn through the couplers and field projectors on her starboard engine exhaust nozzles… and probably a few other things, but that’s it. Nothing any decent shipmech couldn’t fix.”
“And where will she find one here?”
“Maybe they have one. It’ll be her problem, not mine.”
Teller deftly regulated the thrust and reverse thrust to equalize, the engines rumbling for but a moment and then silence as he brought the thrust levels back down. He smiled and took the Lance straight up on repulsors. Once high enough, he placed his hand on the thrust controls again. His smile grew bigger. “I have a hunch we won’t be on her good side… ever.”
. . . . .
. . . . .
17
All Bad Things must come to an End
. . . . .
Excerpt from, Cap’n Cosmos’ Guide to it All, the Interstellar Guide for Endeavoring Spacers.
Cap’n, what does a deflector shield do?
-Whes Weaton
Nothing, Whes. There are no deflector shields. That term is one among the many misnomers used to refer to the dissipater shield, which is the correct term, but most everybody simply calls them shields. Not that it really matters, but you can use that as a way to start a fight - a free tip from the Cap’n.
When something hits a dissipater shield, the effects of whatever that something might be is supposed to be spread across the surface of the shield like a bug splatting on a windshield or a raindrop hitting a sidewalk. I could tell you how it all works, but that would remove all of the mystery from it, wouldn’t it, and where’s the fun in that?
Truth is, the Cap’n doesn’t know either. Generally speaking, those that know how all the gadgets and gizmos on a starship work aren’t regular spacers. They are techs. A spacer knows how to finesse a ship through space, a tech knows how to whine and complain about how the spacer exceeded specs and they got stuck fixing it. That always sticks in the Cap’n’s craw, I mean, it’s their job to fix things! Like my old friend, Todd Ball likes to say, “I don’t know what makes’em work, man. I just fly the thing.” That about sums it up. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not knocking knockabouts. Those beings that can fly and fix their own ships are the finest of folks and deserve our admiration. Crazy as Mandoly Ragebeasts, but still fine folks. The Cap’n’s advice? Be a spacer by heck, not a lubber or a tech.
Back to your question, if you have shields, they’ll fend off beams, bolts, slugs, rocks or whatever might try to punch a hole in your starship. Whatever they throw at you, you’ll be okay. Well… unless you run out of power, or they overwhelm your shields with firepower, or strip them with anti-shield weapons. If that happens, I hope you know some maneuvers that will help you evade any further hits. I’m not talking about some slow drift in one direction or another, either. That stuff might have worked in some far off galaxy a long time ago, but it doesn’t fly in ours.
Don’t say the Cap’n didn’t warn you.
. . .
“Director Sodall’s office. I am sorry, he is not available at this time,” said the man who operated the call center in the access control cubicle in front of former Director Sodall’s office. “I cannot take a message. He no longer works at Altairie Corporation.”
Almaire DeFrisco had heard the same delivery repeated all morning as she headed up a small group tasked with sorting through the Sodall Tech Group’s data and correspondence concerning the Spiral Project, now commonly referred to unofficially as the Sodall Debacle.
The Hyper Media video segment was the first indication something was awry. Tasked by the chairman of the board and Chief Executive Officer of Altairie to coordinate with corporate security and get to the bottom of the issue, it didn’t take long for DeFrisco’s people to learn Director Sodall was misleading in his presentations to the board of directors. The farther the investigation progressed, the more evidence amassed against the Sodall Group. The final blow came when the two most junior staffers that served Sodall agreed to come clean in exchange for continued employment and waivers to any future criminal proceedings.
The main concern for Altairie Corporation was now controlling damage to their public image and heading off any potential legal or financial issues that might arise.
Almaire’s data pad notified her of an incoming call. The display showed it was the CEO.
“Yes, Mister Chairman,” she answered.
“Anything new?” he asked.
“Nothing, sir. I think we’ve found all we can here. We should conclude within the hour. The data devices will take longer I am told.”
“Good. You have handled this very well, Almaire. You are to be commended.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Earlier you mentioned something about the starship crew Sodall and his people were trying to lay blame upon…?”
“Yes, sir. It was suggested a financial compensation be offered to Miz Raik as she was under contract when the attack on Commerce Station occurred. I am aware Mister Jessop was also discussed in this light as well.”
“Yes. We have yet to agree upon how we shall do this, but something will be do
ne. You have a suggestion regarding the crew of this ARC Lance?
“Yes, sir. The contract stipulated a payment of nineteen thousand Carperan Credits for the job, with one thousand of that sum being a bonus payment for completing the task well under the stipulated limit. This is still in arrears. It is a small financial outlay to a crew and vessel that has proven to be rather resourceful. It seems to be a small price to pay to smooth over any ill will. A way to foster an asset rather than create enmity.”
The CEO laughed softly. “Why would they wish to work for a corporation that tried to kill them? Then again, they might, knowing we’ve dealt with those responsible. Surely an amicable parting with such resourceful beings is more likely to create an asset than enmity. See to it.”
The CEO disconnected. Almaire smiled.
. . .
ARC Lance was ready to leave Flaran, a sleepy little planet whose major source of income was quiet resorts for those who wished to escape from the rush and stress of the modern lifestyle, and as the five beings on the Lance discovered, those who had been pursued over half the galaxy by corporations, cruisers, betrayers, and bounty hunters. The cost was shocking, but the credits they’d acquired on Meltan paid for more than a full tenday of stress—and threat—free living, but now it was time to depart.
“Following the Hyper Media Group story that nearly toppled a major corporation,” said an announcer’s voice over the Lance’s vid deck, “Hyper Media’s own Nikira da-Daisho now says Altairie Corporation has done a little housecleaning.”
The vid cut to a shot of Nikira speaking with a tall blonde in front of the Altairie Corporate Center.
“This is Nikira da-Daisho, on Vachsblad. I am with Almaire DeFrisco, spokesbeing for Altairie Corporation.”
Niki turned toward Almaire. “Miz DeFrisco, is it true all charges against Ord Hawmer, Ned Jessop, Ursula Raik, and Teller Skellum have been lifted?”
“I can say with confidence that all Syndicate space wants, warrants, and bounties on those four are no longer valid. All contracts with tracer agencies and mercenary companies are cancelled. The actions of a small group has placed our corporation in a bad light and harmed numerous people. This sort of behavior is not tolerated at Altairie Corporation and steps have been taken to see that such incidents will not occur in the future. I would like to thank those four and say Altairie Corporation owes them a debt of gratitude for possessing the courage and forbearance to help bring to light this—”
Teller shut off the vid deck with a smile. “It’s the same vid segment you’ve watched five times. Altairie stock is down, politicos on five worlds are feeling heat, half the cops on Commerce Station are under investigation, Boddan-Three’s Space Forces claim they lost four fighters in a training accident, and we’re clear as we were before this whole thing went down. It’s not going to change.”
“This is actually over,” Ursula said in amazement. “A part of me doesn’t believe it.”
“You better. We’re ready to lift out of here. Vacation’s over and it’s back to work. We’ll take you wherever you want to go… unless you want to stay on as crew.”
“I think my starship crewing days are over. Crewing an office for awhile has a certain appeal just now.”
“It gets in the blood, so don’t be surprised when you miss it,” Teller said with a smile. “Where to?”
“I need to see if I still have a career as a freelancer. I’ll need a liner to take me to the DeLisle system.”
“Maurdoc Station is ten hours away. Major liner hub. They ought to have what you need.”
. . .
Ord carried Ursula’s meager baggage as he and the other three from the ARC Lance walked her to the station’s boarding dockway.
“To fly on a ship other than the Lance seems… strange,” she said. “Even my business attire feels odd.”
“ARC Lance was home for a time,” Ord said. “Home for a different life. You return to the old now.”
She smiled. “You’ll scare Teller if you keep that up, but you’re right. ARC Lance was home. In spite of all that happened, I’ll miss her.”
“And she’ll miss you.”
The audio system announced final boarding.
“I almost forgot,” Teller said as he fished a yellow metal plate from his shipsuit and handed it to her. “It’s your crew bona fides. Got the local spacer’s guild here to produce that. Make a nice souvenir, or maybe the corporate gig gets tiresome….”
Ursula’s eyes welled with tears. “I’ll miss you guys.” She kissed each of them, man and Mech. “Stay in touch… and I don’t mean just using spacer’s relays either. The Lance was home and you were family. You always will be.”
She moved into the dockway and stopped at the hatch, then turned and waved one final time before she passed from sight.
The four stayed until the liner was underway.
“Family,” Jessop said. He sighed loudly. “She’s right. Anyone else want a drink?”
“I do not,” Ho said with a cant of his head, “but I will accompany you.”
“Ord as well.”
“I’m game,” Teller said. “We’ll drink to Urs and Ho’s new warbot arm.”
“And its color-matched faded Carica orange finish,” Ned added. “I’ll buy.”
. . .
The following day, ARC Lance put down at Zemke Spacefield on Asmar, a desert world on the outer reaches of the Clarion Confluence. Ned was due to catch a flight from the field shortly. His baggage was stacked in the shade of the Lance’s hull as he and the remaining three from the ship awaited a field shuttle that would take him to his ship.
“You’re headed for Tarlan? Another resort?” Teller jested.
Ned smiled. “As a matter of fact, yes. My daughter manages one of the concerns there. I’m going to visit. We’ve always been close, but the last few years we don’t talk as much as we used to. After all this, after seeing you reuniting with family, the brushes with death… I think I need to tighten the connection. It’s important.”
He looked at the plate Teller had presented him, detailing his ship hours and tasks imprinted on its face. He smiled as he pushed it into a pocket on his satchel. “Some of the best spacer time I ever put in… and we got to win this time. Been awhile since I logged any time on a Lancer class sloop.” The shuttle came into sight. He patted the side of the Lance’s hull and looked up and down the length of the old warbird. “It was grand to serve on you again,” he said with genuine affection. Teary-eyed, he turned to Tell, Ord and Ho. “You take care of her… yourselves as well. A finer ship and crew I’ve never seen.”
The two men and Mech shook hands with the engineer before he picked up his bags and climbed in the shuttle. “Urs was right. We’re family,” he said as the shuttle got underway. He waved before it went out of sight behind one of the buildings on the field.
Teller turned toward Ho. “So what about you?”
“Ho should stay with the Lance,” Ord said, “unless he has a better place to go.”
“I do not.” Ho said.
Ord grunted. “Then stay.”
“A third? On the Lance?” Tell said with a wink at Ord. “I guess we can try it, besides, he eats a lot less than you.”
Ord rumbled a chuckle. “Speaks Syndicate Standard better too.”
“That he does. Well, what do you say, Ho?” Teller said.
“I accept,” Ho replied. He smiled with a cant of his head, “With thanks, friends.”
Teller smiled. “A sappy Mech… that’s all we need. Let’s see about lifting off this rock. But first, we need to find out how broke we are. Maybe we should have saved a little of the merc creds.”
. . .
“Traffic control is up and we’re in queue. Medium freighter lifting out now, seven more ships, then us,” Ord said.
“We wait then,” Teller replied. He drew his data pad from a pocket on his shipsuit and looked at the screen. What he saw brought a smile to his face. “Our query is answered. Nineteen thousand Cs added to
the account!” He clapped his hands in his enthusiasm. “Don’t ever say my efforts don’t pay off… sometimes. We got paid, and we still have a pair of data cases that ought to be worth something to somebody.”
“Not ours,” Ord said.
“I’m hurt, pal,” he said with a sly grin. “I’m not talking about shopping the things, I’m saying we return them to their rightful owner, Altairie. In fact we should take them straight to the corporate center. We’ll have to stop by Vachsblad next time we’re in that region of space.”
Ord growled, fully understanding his friend’s plan.
“What? We owe Miz DeFrisco a debt…,” he said as his grin cracked into a smile, “one that should be paid in person.”
Ord growled again.
“Ord, c’mon. She really came through for us. Nineteen thousand creds worth. Who do you think did that? Any exec that’ll do that for a knockabout like me is aces… and I won’t even mention her legs. Legs like that are worth a trip through slipspace, pay or no. What do you say, old pal?”
Ord growled once more and shook his head. “This again.”
“I have found there is another vid concerning us on the latest vid log feed,” Ho said. “Should it be of interest.”
“All right. Let’s watch it while we wait.”
“It is Vidloid.”
“Let’s watch it anyway.”
An animated logo lit up a control panel screen, a spinning V that burst into flames and exploded to a driving music beat. A backlit figure came on the screen as the music faded, speaking in the same deep-voiced near-yell they’d heard before. “Vidloid, galactic violence, crime, and scandal brought to you so you don’t have to go to it. Vidloid!” The V logo flashed on the screen once more.
“Dateline now, the known galaxy,” the backlit figure said. “Gleg Malarkey and Teddy Skelter, one and the same? Infamous duelist and blastoleer also notorious smuggler?”
The vid cut to blurry stills from Idor Station. “A story so staggering it demands a two-question lead-in. Rumored to pal around with a dreaded Tyko named Orry and a high-powered crimebot while shipping in a converted military brig, Skelter and Company seem to be—by all accounts—a trio destined for trouble. Blasting down assassins and blowing up Latchups are but the latest tales making their way across the galaxy. If true, Gleg/Teddy is one very busy bad boy. And what of the massive and murderous meltdown on Meltan? Were they there? Did they have a score to settle with soldiers for hire and a brutal beef with bounty-killers? Don’t sweat it inquisitive beings! Vidloid’s on it, and you know we’ll slide you the lowdown in low time. When we get it, you get it. Got it?” The V logo flashed on the screen and the silhouette returned.
The Knockabouts Page 41