‘Incoming message for Stanley Bound.’
Stanley followed the voice, which was coming from his room.
‘Hello?’ he said, unsure where it was coming from.
‘Recipient located. Putting call through,’ said the voice.
A hologram of Dram Gurdling appeared. His eyes were a vivid shade of yellow.
‘Dram, you’re all right. How did you escape the picaroons?’
Dram’s eyes whitened. ‘When you’ve been knocking around space as long as me, you have a few tricks up your sleeve to get you out of situations like that. But it ain’t me I’m worried about.’
‘How did you find me here?’
‘Never mind that. Kevolo knows your location.’
‘Apparently he can’t touch me here. We’re out of Armorian jurisdiction.’
‘I wouldn’t bank on that. Kevolo’s pretty narked about you jumping bail. You need to get on a ship and hand yourself in before you get rearrested and dragged back to the Bucket.’
‘Why would I do that?’
‘Because otherwise you’ll be charged with jumping bail, removing a tag and attempting to pervert justice by leaving Armorian jurisdiction. Remember, I used to be a cop and I can tell you, even if it wasn’t for the president’s murder, this is enough to put you away for the rest of your life, no questions asked. If you turn yourself in, you can claim that you were kidnapped and taken against your will.’
‘You want me to go back so I can be thrown in a tiny cell that doesn’t even have a proper toilet, tried for a crime I didn’t commit and defended by a lawyer who doesn’t believe I’m innocent. Funnily enough, that’s not the most appealing offer I’ve ever had.’
Dram’s eyes reddened. ‘It’s the best offer you’ll get today, kid.’
‘No. I’ll stay with the Brotherhood. They don’t get caught,’ argued Stanley.
‘That’s because no one’s trying to catch the Brotherhood.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘For all their big talk, P’Tang’s band of merry souls have never done anything wrong. Kevolo keeps an eye on their activities, of course, but so far they’ve never broken a law. Or at least they hadn’t until they helped you out. You’ll be putting them in as much danger as you’re in if you stay with them.’
‘Then I’ll stay here on Therapia with Quil.’
‘Hah!’ Dram snorted. ‘You’re not the first criminal on the run to have that idea. Therapians may seem pretty laid back now, but they have the toughest immigration policies in the galaxy. You don’t build an artificial paradise like this by letting any old alien crook in. Besides, they only retain their independence from Armoria because they refuse to harbour illegals.’
‘I don’t care what you say, I’m not handing myself in. I’d rather take my chances on my own.’ Stanley turned to leave the room.
‘Listen, kid. It’s a big universe out there and you’re going to get lots of people telling you lots of different things, but bear this in mind: I have no ulterior motive.’
‘Everyone’s got ulterior motives.’ Stanley slammed the door on Dram’s hologram.
.
27
‘I have absolutely no idea. Isn’t that marvellous?’
Stanley knocked on Jupp’s door but there was no reply. He called out her name. ‘Jupp . . . please.’ He wanted to explain to her why he had lied, but what would he say? That he enjoyed the way she looked at him when she thought he was a hero?
He stepped back from the door.
‘Ah, Stanley, just the man, just the man indeed.’ Professor NomVeber’s large head poked round the side of a door frame. ‘What a remarkable mystery our little friend is. Come on in, please. Come in.’ He beckoned Stanley inside.
Professor NomVeber’s room was filled with bubbling test tubes, beeping machines, huge microscopes and other pieces of technology and machinery that Stanley didn’t recognise.
‘I thought you said you only had a few bits with you,’ said Stanley.
‘That’s right, just the basics,’ said the professor.
‘Hello, Stanley,’ said Spore, who was standing apparently happily in a dish of bubbling water.
‘Are you OK, Spore?’
‘I OK, Stanley.’ Spore smiled. ‘Professor big-head says I one of a kind. He says Spore special.’
‘Very special indeed. Look.’ Professor NomVeber enthusiastically grabbed a pile of paper from his bed and thrust it under Stanley’s nose.
‘What does it mean?’ Stanley couldn’t understand a word of it.
Professor NomVeber grabbed the paper back off Stanley and looked closely at it. ‘Sorry, I don’t know how I expect you to read my scrawl. I was so excited while I was writing it, you see.’ He threw the paper over his head with both hands. ‘Look, I’ll show you. Where’s my pen?’
‘In your pocket,’ said Stanley.
‘Ah yes.’ He pulled a pen from his top pocket, clicked the end, then began to scribble away in mid-air. As he wrote, the pen left a blue trace behind it, lingering in the air. Intrigued, Stanley reached forward to touch it. ‘Don’t do that,’ said Professor NomVeber. Stanley took his hand away and saw that some of the blue ink had rubbed off on his finger. ‘You’ll want to wash that. It’s anti-gravitational ink. If you don’t wash it now, it won’t ever come off.’
Stanley went to the bathroom. By the time he got back the professor had written profuse notes across the middle of the room.
‘Look, see this.’ He pointed out various sketches and equations. ‘I did some basic species identification, DNA codes, carbon testing, and I was able to establish that my original guess was correct. Spore is of the species Gomphus mobilus.’ He jumped to the next bit of scribble. ‘I did litmus tests for radiation and light exposure and learnt that he was born and grew up inside a space station without any exposure to natural gases or sunlight.’
‘Didn’t we already know this?’ said Stanley.
‘Did we? Did we, Stanley? Yes, I suppose we did, but can we ever really know anything?’
‘I thought the question was how he’s able to speak,’ asked Stanley.
‘Exactly. How’s he able to speak? Or, to put it another way, how did his cognitive awareness manifest itself in the form of verbal communication? Actually, no. I preferred the way you put it.’
‘I only speaking spore.’
Professor NomVeber clicked his fingers. ‘And therein lies the key. Gomphus mobilus, like all fungoid species, breeds in damp dark places such as refuse rooms on space stations like the Bucket. They have even been known to adapt to their environment. For example, many rubbish rooms have airlocks which operate on timer systems, ejecting the waste into space, and certain types of fungus have developed ways of clinging on, and even sometimes hiding in anticipation of this happening. I read a very interesting article in What Scientist? about this very recently. However, not one of the examples cited demonstrated such an advanced level of development.’
‘I a quick learner,’ said Spore.
‘Exactly. Or, put another way, Spore’s ability to learn exceeds that of even much higher evolved beings. Spore has leaped several stages of his natural evolutionary progress. How? You may well ask.’
The professor paused.
Stanley waited. ‘How?’ he asked eventually.
‘What?’
‘What’s the answer?’
‘This is the wonderful thing. I have absolutely no idea. Isn’t that marvellous?’
‘Is it?’
‘Oh yes. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had absolutely no idea about something? Not a clue. Not a hypothesis. Not a theory. It’s a complete mystery to me.’
‘And this is your discovery?’
‘Exactly. I have discovered something I don’t know, but something I very much mean to find out.’
.
28
‘Stanley, look, hairy-faced meanies’
Stanley left the professor and went back to Jupp’s door. Again he knocked and called her n
ame, but to no avail.
‘I don’t think the girl with shiny eyes is in there,’ said Spore, poking his head out of Stanley’s pocket.
‘She is. She just doesn’t want to speak to me,’ he replied.
‘Why she not want to speak to Stanley? I like to speak with Stanley.’
‘I told her the truth – that I didn’t kill the man everyone thinks I killed.’
‘I not understand. She not want to speak to you for telling the truth?’
Stanley turned away from the door, certain now that Jupp wasn’t going to appear. ‘I think she’s still upset about the lie.’
‘Ah, that make sense.’
Stanley went back to his room. Spore climbed out of his pocket and on to the windowsill, where he could see the blue-jacketed Brotherhood climbing over the Goodship Gusto.
‘What is that?’ asked Spore, pressing his face against the window.
‘That’s the ship that brought us here.’
‘We will leave on it as well, yes?’
‘No, I don’t think so. I think now they know the truth we’ll have to find another ship to leave on.’
‘We not stay here?’
‘No.’ Stanley couldn’t imagine Quil throwing him off the planet, but he believed what Dram had said about the planet’s immigration laws.
‘So where we go?’ asked Spore.
‘I don’t know,’ said Stanley sadly. He thought about something Jupp had said on the Gusto. He remembered her saying that being on the run he wouldn’t ever be able to go home. He looked out at the white fluffy clouds that filled the sky. They reminded him of when he used to sit at his bedroom window and look out at the sky and imagine he was far from home. Now that he was further than he could ever have imagined, he wished more than anything that he could go home to the poky flat above the grotty pub in south London. Life had felt pretty bad at the time, but at least no one there wanted to convict him for murder.
‘Perhaps we can fly in that ship instead.’
Stanley looked up to see what Spore was talking about and saw a silver spaceship breaking through the clouds. It was smaller than the Gusto, and its metallic body glinted in the sunlight. The workers on the Gusto stopped what they were doing and watched it approach.
‘There were ships like that flying around outside the Bucket,’ said Stanley.
‘That’s not surprising, since it’s an AIP shuttle.’
Stanley turned round to see that Jupp was standing behind him. From the hard edge in her voice he could tell that she was still angry with him.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said.
‘I heard what you said outside my door. You’re right, you should never have lied,’ said Jupp. ‘Who were you talking to, anyway?’
‘Stanley talk to me. I Stanley’s friend. Stanley not lie to me,’ said Spore, jumping off the windowsill, bouncing on his head and landing on the bed.
Jupp bent down to inspect Spore more closely. ‘Hello,’ she said, her voice softening. ‘What planet are you from?’
‘I not from any planet. I from rubbish.’
Jupp laughed.
‘So are we still friends then?’ asked Stanley.
The smiled dropped from Jupp’s face. ‘Friends? No, I’m not your friend. You betrayed my trust and put the Brotherhood in danger.’
‘Well, I didn’t ask to be teleported on board the ship,’ said Stanley.
‘Oh, I see. You’d rather have taken your chances with the Marauding Picaroons, would you?’ shouted Jupp.
‘At least they’re not all talk, like your dad,’ yelled Stanley.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Why you two speak so loudly?’ asked Spore.
Stanley ignored him. ‘It means that for all your dad’s big talk, his precious Brotherhood has never actually done anything.’
‘My dad is a great man. He’s biding his time, that’s all.’
‘Hah. Your dad is scared of Armoria. He just talks tough to impress all those people he’s got working for him while he pretends that everything is fair and equal.’
‘Stanley, you must look,’ said Spore, who had bounced back over to the windowsill.
‘Not now, Spore,’ said Stanley.
‘My father will lead the Brotherhood in battle against the Armorians, and I’ll be by his side when he does and we will liberate the universe.’
‘But, Stanley, look, hairy-faced meanies,’ said Spore.
Stanley and Jupp turned to see that outside the window the shiny ship had now landed just in front of the Gusto. The back had opened and down the ramp marched two orderly lines of Yeren AIP Officers.
‘They’ve come for me,’ said Stanley.
‘But they can’t arrest you outside of their jurisdiction. They have no power here.’
The guards were standing in two lines with guns at the ready, surveying the area for any potential danger. In between the two lines came more hairy-faced officers and one short fat man in a smart uniform.
‘Something tells me that he’s not bothered about details like that,’ said Stanley.
‘Commander Kevolo,’ said Jupp. ‘You need to hide. You can’t let them catch you here.’
‘Why should you care?’ snapped Stanley.
‘Because if they find you here, it’ll be Quil and us that get into trouble. Now, hide.’
‘Where?’
‘You can climb out my window. That’s on the other side of the building. You’ll be able to get on to the roof and stay hidden until they’ve gone. Come on.’
.
29
‘The name’s Hal Shorn, and you might want to hold on to your thanks’
Stanley hurriedly followed Jupp into her room.
‘Why you have to joggle me around?’ asked Spore.
‘Stay quiet, and stay out of sight,’ said Stanley, shoving him back inside his pocket.
Hearing voices coming up the stairs, Stanley pushed the door shut behind him. Jupp pressed a button to the side of the window and the glass disappeared. Stanley leaned out. It was only the first floor, but it still looked like a long way down.
Jupp ran to the door, where the voices were getting louder.
‘Hurry,’ she whispered. ‘I can hear Kevolo.’
Stanley put a foot on the windowsill and climbed out. The wall was built on a sharp gradient and the moss and other plant life that covered it didn’t feel particularly strong, but he edged out and pushed himself flat against it.
Jupp stuck her head out of the window. ‘There’s a ledge above you where the roof flattens out. Climb up and hide.’
She went back inside and the glass reformed. Stanley felt his heartbeat quicken with panic. The roof had looked much more climbable than it was. He could see the ledge that Jupp was talking about, but when he moved his hand to reach it his foot slipped and he slid down a couple of centimetres. Inside the room, he could hear familiar voices.
‘Hey, Kevolo, man, you got no right to come barging into my pad. No right, man,’ Quil Tisket was saying.
‘You will address me as Commander Kevolo, and I have reason to believe that you are harbouring a dangerous criminal, which gives me the right to search your premises under section 413b of the Therapian Independence Agreement.’
‘On what grounds do you believe that, man?’ asked Quil.
‘They brought the boy with them on their ship,’ said the distinctive voice of Boosky Retch.
General P’Tang said, ‘You are a wretched little creature, aren’t you?’
‘I like him even less when he’s on our side,’ said Officer Grogun.
‘Section 413b of the Therapian Independence Agreement still requires you to get a warrant,’ said Quil.
‘You seem remarkably well informed,’ Commander Kevolo said.
‘I helped draft that bit of the agreement.’
‘It’s a shame that you’re not up to date on some recent changes in the law, then.’
‘Changes? What changes, man?’
‘As a direct con
sequence of the murder of President Vorlugenar, the recent disappearance of the suspect Stanley Bound and the ongoing problem of the Marauding Picaroons, I have declared a state of emergency. This means no warrant is necessary and that you and your Gustovian cohort will not have time to hide the murderer you’re harbouring.’
‘That’s completely out of order. I do not recognise your authority,’ said General P’Tang.
‘Yeah, it’s totally spurious, man,’ said Quil. ‘You still got to say why you’re searching my pad, man.’
‘I’m searching your pad, man, as you put it, because of your known links with the disruptive organisation known as the League,’ said Commander Kevolo.
‘The League is a legitimate protest group, man. We’re just holding up a mirror to you guys.’
‘We’ve tolerated your little protests, Quil, but now you have taken to hiding criminals the League will be outlawed. You will be forced to disband the group or else be treated as common criminals yourselves.’
‘You have no right to do this,’ said General P’Tang.
‘And that goes for your pathetic Brotherhood too . . . Yes, I know all about you. And now I have a witness that you helped Stanley Bound jump bail.’
‘You call this snivelling crook a witness?’
‘Watch who you’re calling snivelling,’ said Boosky.
‘Shut up, Boosky,’ said Grogun.
‘Enough of this. Senior Officer Grogun, conduct a full search for the criminal Stanley Bound.’
Stanley considered sliding down the wall but, looking down, he could see that directly beneath him an AIP officer was now standing with his back to the wall. He reached a hand up, but as he did so put too much pressure on his foot and managed to dislodge a tuft of moss which rolled down the sloping wall, landing on the guard’s head. Thankfully, the tuft was small enough to land on the Yeren’s thick head of hair without attracting his attention.
Stanley had to get away from the window. Any second now, Grogun would open it and find him. Stanley stretched up again, trying to reach the part of the roof where it flattened at the top, but the small shrub he grabbed had thin roots and came away in his hand. Not wanting to let go of it in case it attracted the attention of the guard below meant Stanley was now hanging on with only one hand. He lost his grip and had begun to slide down the wall when he felt a hand grab his wrist. He looked up. The hand belonged to a teenage boy with dirty blond hair and cold grey eyes. He wore colourful ragged clothes and Stanley recognised him as the one who had held a volt-dagger to his throat on the Purple Turtle. The boy held a finger to his lips to motion that Stanley should stay quiet, then pulled him up on to the flat roof of the building.
Space Crime Conspiracy Page 10