Space Crime Conspiracy

by Gareth P. Jones

  ‘Are you feeling all right, ma’am?’

  ‘It just seems like . . . you know, he’s telling the truth . . .’

  ‘With respect, ma’am, the boy just told us that he died.’

  ‘No, he said that’s what it felt like.’

  ‘But come on . . . talking mushrooms, hairy police officers, parrot-headed pirates . . . Don’t say you believe this stuff.’

  Lockett knows the room is soundproofed, but she still finds herself worrying about being overheard by Stanley so she steps away from the glass. ‘No, I suppose not. What I mean is that he seems to believe it himself. I don’t get any sense that he’s making it up as he goes along.’

  ‘There you are, then. Delusional. There’s a good child psychologist based nearby . . . Do you want me to contact him?’

  ‘Yes, that’s a good idea. In the meantime, I’ll let him carry on with his story. I think it’s helping him to tell it.’

  She doesn’t admit her real reason for wanting Stanley to continue with his story. She wants to know what happens next.

  .

  18

  ‘Yeah, well, someone had to do it’

  For a moment Stanley honestly believed he was dead. What else could it be? He was unable to see anything. He was unable to hear anything. He couldn’t feel pain. He couldn’t feel pleasure. It was as though he no longer existed at all. Then, in the midst of the mist, he heard a small voice say, ‘Me scared.’

  A second later, shapes began to materialise out of the blankness, appearing at first like a pencilled drawing before slowly gaining colour and texture. As the scene took shape he realised that the picaroons and Dram had gone and that he wasn’t inside the purple turtle any more.

  Instead he was in a room full of staring faces. Some were human in appearance. But there was also a Yeren and a couple of blue-faced moon dwellers, as well as aliens that Stanley hadn’t encountered before. All of them wore matching navy blue uniforms with gold buttons. At the front of this crowd stood a large man whose uniform was covered in medals. He wore a neat military-looking hat, a thick moustache and large pair of sunglasses that reflected Stanley’s own bewildered face.

  As Stanley felt the weight of existence return to his body, the group of strangers burst into applause. The man with the moustache stepped forward and grasped Stanley’s hand, giving it a firm shake.

  ‘Stanley Bound. It gives me great honour to welcome you aboard the Goodship Gusto. I’m General P’Tang, leader of the Brotherhood. You’re safe now. You’re with friends.’

  The crowded room appeared to be some kind of spaceship control deck. Panels of flashing lights, levers, buttons, gauges and screens lined the walls. A curved glass window at the front showed Dram’s ship suspended in space, with a much larger ship attached by a connecting tube. The picaroons’ ship was as ragged and intimidating as Stanley would have expected, looking like it had been cobbled together from spare parts and then heavily armed with hundreds of ferocious-looking guns and cannons so that it resembled a giant metal porcupine.

  ‘Brothers, take us out of here with haste,’ ordered General P’Tang. ‘It won’t take Captain Flaid long to realise what’s happened.’

  ‘What about Dram?’ asked Stanley.

  ‘Teleporting uses up a lot of energy. Few ships have enough battery power to teleport more than one person at a time. The battery needs to recharge itself now.’

  ‘But the picaroons will kill him.’

  General P’Tang placed a hand on Stanley’s shoulder and looked down at him. ‘Sacrifices are sometimes as necessary as they are painful.’

  ‘But you can’t leave him to die,’ protested Stanley.

  ‘You’re the priority right now, Stanley. The detective will be able to look after himself.’

  ‘But . . .’

  ‘No more buts. Right, let’s get you cleaned up.’

  Stanley realised the general was referring to a thin layer of grey-white powder that covered his clothes. ‘What is it?’

  A girl dressed in the same military uniform as the others said, ‘It’s ether dust. It’s a by-product of the teleporting process. It’s harmless, but it does get everywhere. You’ll be picking it out of your belly button for weeks.’ She was around the same age as Stanley. Her dark brown hair was tied back away from her pale face and like General P’Tang she wore mirrored glasses.

  ‘Stanley Bound, may I introduce my daughter, Jupp.’

  ‘Hi,’ said Stanley.

  ‘Stick out your tongue,’ said the girl.

  ‘I’m sorry?’

  Jupp pulled from her belt what looked like a small gun with pincers at the end of the barrel.

  ‘Please do as I say. We haven’t much time.’

  Stanley stuck out his tongue.

  ‘Yep, you’ve been tagged,’ she said. ‘Hold still, while I remove it for you.’

  ‘But they said it was impossible to remove it without killing me,’ protested Stanley.

  ‘It’s not impossible. It’s simply a matter of finding the correct individualised code, then deactivating it before removing the tag. That’s what this does. I invented it myself.’

  ‘There’s nothing to worry about. My daughter is an electronics whizz,’ said General P’Tang proudly.

  ‘Now give me your tongue.’ Jupp grabbed the end of it with one hand and carefully guided the gun’s pincers over either side of the tag.

  ‘Ah wah yah lah,’ said Stanley,

  ‘Hold still,’ ordered Jupp. ‘This won’t hurt.’

  She was wrong. A sudden burst of pain tore through Stanley’s mouth. It felt like his tongue was being ripped out. He pulled away and put a hand to it and was relieved to find his tongue was still there and the tag was gone.

  ‘Well done, Jupp,’ said General P’Tang. ‘I knew it would work.’

  ‘What’s that mean?’ asked Stanley.

  ‘Well, you were the first tagged prisoner we’ve encountered since I invented it,’ said Jupp.

  ‘So you could have killed me?’

  ‘It was pretty unlikely, but what’s worse? Death or life as an Armorian prisoner?’ asked Jupp. Before Stanley could respond she said, ‘After all, you’ve already shown your bravery and devotion to the cause by killing President Vorlugenar, which was totally brilliant, by the way.’

  ‘Brothers, prepare the ship for cutspace entry,’ said General P’Tang.

  Three crew members sitting at one of the control panels turned around and saluted. ‘Yes, General, right away, General,’ they said.

  ‘All brothers to their stations,’ he barked.

  ‘Why have you brought me here?’ asked Stanley, feeling what was, by now, a familiar sensation of utter confusion.

  General P’Tang smiled. ‘Why? Because your actions have shown you to be one of us. You’re a hero, my boy. Now my daughter will take you somewhere to clean up.’

  Stanley followed Jupp out of the control room into a busy corridor. She grabbed his hand and pulled him through the crowds of aliens all wearing the same blue uniform. ‘Who are you people?’ he asked.

  ‘We’re the Brotherhood.’

  ‘What is that?’

  ‘We used to be with the League, but Dad had a falling-out with Quil Tisket because he’s all talk and no action. Dad says that the only way to make your voice heard in this universe is to use force, not words. Like you did by killing the Armorian president. Everyone here wished they’d done that. It’s so cool. Getting past all that security must have been difficult. I can’t imagine how you did it and I’m top of political assassination class. You must be really smart. Not to mention brave.’

  Stanley didn’t know why he said what he said next. Perhaps it was because Jupp was pretty, had a nice smile and was holding his hand. Or because she looked at him so admiringly when she said that he was smart and brave. Or perhaps he was fed up that no one believed him when he did deny it. Whatever the reason, he replied, ‘Yeah, well, someone had to do it.’

  .

  19

  ‘
Growing up on a spaceship must be pretty cool though’

  Stanley had never been anywhere more crowded than the corridors of the Goodship Gusto. They were filled with hundreds of aliens of various shapes and sizes, all apparently heading in different directions. Along one of these bustling corridors, Stanley noticed a row of small doors, about knee height.

  ‘What are those?’ he asked.

  ‘Escape pods,’ replied Jupp. ‘All ships have them. If something goes wrong with the ship, you get in, shut the door behind you and they automatically take you to the nearest habitable planet.’

  Stanley bent down and peered through a window in one of the doors. Behind it was a tiny capsule big enough for one person. ‘There must be a lot on this ship for all these people.’

  ‘This is all of them,’ replied Jupp. ‘Dad only designed the ship for me and him, but everyone who joins the Brotherhood comes to live here.’

  ‘So that’s why there are so many people on board?’

  ‘Yeah. Dad gives them all jobs too.’ They passed four aliens fighting over who got to change a faulty light bulb. ‘He says that everyone has the right to work. So there tend to be at least three people for each task.’

  ‘Doesn’t that cause problems?’

  ‘Sometimes. The other day there were five people trying to steer the ship and we almost flew into a small moon. It’s a good sign though, because it means that the Brotherhood is getting stronger. We’ll have enough for an attack soon.’

  She stopped at a door.

  ‘This is my room. You can clean off the ether dust here.’

  The door opened to reveal a small room. In one corner was a shower. Along one wall was a bed. Above it there was a silver picture frame around a black centre.

  ‘Where’s the picture?’ asked Stanley.

  ‘You can’t see it because you’re an overgrounder. It’s a picture of my family on Gusto, before our city collapsed.’

  ‘Do you live underground then?’

  ‘We did, yes. Gusto is too near its sun. The surface is too hot and too volatile so we lived underground. Over the centuries our eyes have become more and more accustomed to the dark, so now what seems pitch black to you is bright enough light for me to read by.’

  Looking closely at the picture, Stanley could make out faint outlines against the darkness but no details. ‘Is that why you wear the dark glasses?’

  ‘Yeah, otherwise it would be too bright. That’s what happened when the city caved in. Millions were blinded and couldn’t find their way to safety. That’s how my mother died.’ Jupp’s voice wavered.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Stanley said, thinking about his own parents. ‘Do you think you’ll go back there?’

  ‘Dad says he won’t return until he has led the victory over the Armorians.’

  ‘Growing up on a spaceship must be pretty cool though.’

  ‘Yeah, but I still miss how things were. I miss home,’ said Jupp.

  ‘Well, I’m never going back to mine,’ said Stanley. What had he to miss? No real family and no real friends.

  ‘That’s different. People still live on Gusto. I could still go back,’ said Jupp. ‘You’re a wanted criminal. You couldn’t go home even if you wanted to.’

  .

  20

  ‘What are you doing in my trousers?’

  Before leaving, Jupp showed Stanley how a drawer that pulled out of the wall could be used to clean his clothes, so once she was gone he removed his dirty shirt and placed it inside. He shut the drawer and opened it, as instructed, and was pleased to see the shirt come out clean and smelling fresh. He undid his trousers and was about to put them in too when he remembered that the sustenance bar Dram had given him was still in the pocket. He put his hand in to get it, but came out with just the wrapper. He reached in again and felt something soft and squidgy. It wriggled. Stanley remembered the voice he had heard during the teleportation. ‘Spore? Is that you?’

  Spore’s red and black mushroom top emerged from his right pocket. ‘Hello, Stanley.’

  ‘What are you doing in my trousers?’

  Spore climbed out of the pocket and up on to the bedside table. ‘After you left me the first time me was lonely. Me didn’t want to feel like that again so me hid with you.’

  ‘You mean, you’ve been there since I left the cell?’

  ‘Yes. Me stay quiet, me not want to cause any trouble.’

  ‘They must have counted you as one of my possessions when they teleported me over.’

  ‘Spore not your possession.’ He sounded nervous. ‘Me not want to be owned by Stanley. Me scared Stanley might take away Spore’s life too.’

  ‘I’m not going to hurt you,’ said Stanley. ‘I haven’t killed anyone.’

  ‘But you said to the girl –’

  ‘I know,’ he interrupted him. ‘I know. I lied.’

  ‘Why you do this?’

  ‘Because . . . I don’t know. I suppose because Jupp seemed so impressed by what I’d done. Or what she thinks I’ve done. No one’s ever really been impressed by me like that. So I let her believe what she wanted to believe.’

  Spore stopped struggling in Stanley’s hand. ‘Has Stanley lied to me?’

  ‘No, you can trust me. I won’t lie to you. I’m your friend.’

  ‘Spore like to be friends if Stanley not take my life. Me not had friend before. Stanley is Spore’s only friend. Me will trust Stanley.’

  ‘Good. I’m glad you’re my friend too.’

  While getting clean in the shower, Stanley considered how he would come clean with Jupp. As he did up the buttons on his shirt he was working out what he would say, when the door buzzer sounded.

  ‘Me hide.’ Spore leaped into the air and landed inside Stanley’s pocket as the door slid open and Jupp entered.

  ‘Hi.’ She greeted Stanley with a warm smile.

  ‘Hi, listen . . .’ began Stanley, sensing himself redden at the thought of what he had to say.

  ‘Can you tell me on the way? Dad wants to talk to you before we arrive.’

  ‘Arrive where?’

  ‘We’re going to Quil Tisket’s place on Therapia. Quil’s the one Dad started the League with. Dad says he’s a great man but he needs to understand that actions are better than words.’

  ‘Why are we going to see him?’

  ‘Dad wants to persuade Quil to join us and wage war against the Armorians. He thinks meeting you will inspire him. There aren’t enough of us in the Brotherhood to take on the whole of the AIP, but with Quil and the rest of the League we’d be able to launch an attack, while they haven’t got a president to unite them.’

  ‘An attack?’

  ‘Dad will explain it much better. Hurry, we’ll be coming out of cutspace soon.’ She took his hand and the idea of telling her the truth suddenly seemed less pressing.

  She led him back to the bustling bridge of the Goodship Gusto. Standing in its centre was General P’Tang. He greeted Stanley with a firm handshake and a powerful slap on the back.

  ‘Well met, Stanley Bound. You look much better. Clean hair and a fresh shirt . . . Only one thing missing.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  General P’Tang picked up a box from his seat and handed it to Stanley. ‘Don’t look so worried, Brother Bound. It’s a gift.’

  Stanley looked at Jupp, who nodded and smiled encouragingly. Stanley opened the box. Inside was a dark blue jacket with gold buttons, identical to those worn by everyone else on the ship.

  ‘Made of one hundred per cent astral goat hair. Only true brothers of the Brotherhood wear these. Now you are one of us. You are equal, as all brothers are equal,’ General P’Tang beamed.

  ‘Go on, try it on,’ said Jupp.

  Stanley took the jacket and slipped his arms through the sleeves. It fitted perfectly.

  ‘I can’t wear this,’ he protested.

  ‘Nonsense. After all, by what you have done you are as true a brother as any on this ship. The Armorians have built a wall of terror around our g
alaxy for many years, but you have knocked away the first brick of that wall. Together, you and I will be able to help convince Quil that now is the time for action, I’m sure of it.’

  ‘No, I can’t.’

  General P’Tang placed a hand on Stanley’s shoulder. ‘Let me tell you something about my history, Stanley.’

  ‘I’ve already told him about the city collapsing,’ said Jupp.

  General P’Tang carried on regardless. ‘Gusto has no great mountains or oceans, but below the surface my people created an underground paradise.’

  Jupp raised her eyebrows at Stanley, indicating that she had heard this speech before.

  ‘We Gustovians are great miners and the belly of our home was rich with fuels, food and minerals, which we used to build great cities with architectural splendour and a vibrant culture. And then the Armorians arrived. We were the first inhabited planet they discovered, you know?’

  Jupp mouthed along with the next bit of the speech, forcing Stanley to stifle a giggle.

  ‘The Armorians brought great tools, which they shared with us in exchange for resources from our planet, but with this new technology, my ancestors mined deeper and faster than ever before, and soon our fertile planet was a hollow shell. What is more, our own traditions disappeared as my people became enamoured with unnecessary Armorian gadgets.’

  Jupp stopped mouthing as her father said with a wobble in his voice, ‘The collapse of Porth Methryl was the final straw.’

  ‘Did the Armorians do that too?’ asked Stanley.

  ‘Our great capital collapsed because of illegal mining beneath its foundations, mining that would never have been possible without Armorian technology. My wife and millions of others died because of Armoria. Since then, the discovery of cutspace has enabled them to travel further with greater speed and plunder ever more planets. There are many on board this ship who will tell you similar stories.’

  Stanley looked around the bridge at the aliens, all wearing the same blue uniform.

  ‘Shortly we shall arrive on Therapia and meet with Quil Tisket. Together we will convince him that now is the time to make a stand. You have shown us this with your brave action, Stanley Bound. Now is the time to fight.’