Plague Planet (The Wandering Engineer)

by Hechtl, Chris

  “They did?” Hodges asked, eyes wide. “Who Lawrence? Tony?” Tony had actually been amused by what had happened to Lawrence and his crew. Apparently Biscuits and Books had treaded on his territory a few times so he had been rather... unseemingly gleeful over Biscuits departure.

  “No, um, I don't think so,” the sheriff said and squirmed. “I'm not sure who boss, we're looking into it now. I didn't know about it until some of the other sheriffs and police commissioners called me this morning. Apparently someone tried to put a bomb in a hotel near Metropolis where the admiral had been staying. They thought he'd be back.”

  Hodges winced. Suddenly, his appetite deserted him. Slowly he set the sandwich down and then used his cloth napkin to wipe his greasy fingers and mouth. He loved pigs feet hoagies, but that news had just killed his appetite. “They caught them?”

  The sheriff nodded earnestly. “Yeah boss, they broke them quick.”

  “You know what this means right?”

  “Um...”

  “It means if he gets killed I'll get the blame! And the man still owes me money!” Hodges growled, balling the red and white checker napkin up and then tossing his napkin down. It was only partially true, Irons had paid his port fees and for two thirds of his fuel as well as half of his bill for his activities on the planet. Of course Hodges was charging him for room rental, security for his shuttle, shuttle parking... “Besides if the other commissioners are in on this I'll be in trouble.”

  “Do, uh, oh, um, boss, I was just thinking...” Rosco said.

  “Dangerous that,” the fat commissioner said, giving the sheriff a look. “Don't strain what little brain you've got,” he said in a sarcastic voice as he mocked him. Rosco wasn't known for thinking deep thoughts.

  “Oh, now that's plain rude!” Rosco said, rearing back affronted.

  “What do you have Rosco?” Hodges demanded, rubbing his brow, eyes closed.

  “It's just, what if someone puts a bomb here? Won't someone get hurt? Or if someone shoots at him? People around us... Lulu, you, me...”

  Hodges flinched, eyes wide in fear. He didn't like his own fat neck on the line let alone his family. “That could be me!” he said, gulping. One meaty hand went to his chest, clutching at his vest. “It could!”

  “Or they could say they were going for him and um...” the sheriff said and shrugged helplessly.

  Hodges glared at the sheriff. “You find me Lawrence.” He waved a stern finger at the sheriff. “I want him here,” he demanded, stabbing a finger on the arm of his barber chair. “You put the word out, no one goes after Irons. I want it known if this nonsense doesn't stop here and now,” he thumped the table in front of him with a meaty index finger. “Here and now,” he growled. “I'll put a contract on whoever started this mess. I'll pay double!” he growled.

  “I'll um...”

  “Get!” Hodges growled with a dismissive wave.

  “I oh, oh, I'm gone,” the sheriff said shrugging his shoulders as he rushed out to do the boss's bidding.

  Hodges stared at the hoagie for a long moment then slowly picked it up again. After a moment of studying it he turned, shrugged and then opened his big mouth wide. “I can't see letting this go to waste!” he said, growling as his he bit down.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  Hodges nodded to Fat Larry as the two bit mobster came in two hours later. Larry's posse knew the routine, they stayed outside the restaurant. No one pissed off Hodges. “Lawrence,” Hodges said, unsmiling as the mobster entered his backroom office.

  Fat Larry grimaced and gulped a little. It wasn't being called Lawrence that bothered him right now. No, it was something else. He didn't like the way Boss was looking at him with those beady eyes. Boss could ruin anyone's day with a word. He knew he was a small shark next to a big one here. A big shark that was eying him like he was lunch. He started to sweat, wondering what else had gone wrong.

  “Yeah boss, um, you asked to see me?”

  “I didn't ask, I told Rosco to get you in here. I heard a tale about a hit. An unauthorized hit in my county,” Hodges said, growling.

  “Um... if this is about Biscuits...”

  “I'm not talking about that thick headed thug. The world is better off without him,” Hodges said waving a hand. He would've appreciated it if they'd made the body disappear in the swamp, but leaving it out served as a warning to others not to get too cute. “I'm talking about who ever put the hit out on Irons. I'm getting all sorts of flack about that. I never authorized it, and won't unless he becomes a problem. So...”

  Fat Larry spread his hands apart in supplication. “Boss, you know I wouldn't go behind your back, not over something like this.” He licked his lips slightly, feeling sweat on the back of his neck. That wasn't technically true, he had tried to get Irons whacked in his restaurant, but he didn't want to bring that up now. Hodges glared up at him from his seat.

  “I hope you didn't. But you're going to put the word out that the contract is rescinded as of now,” he growled, fist banging the table. Fat Larry flinched. “I mean now. And I want whoever did put it out dead. Don't even bother with a hole, dump em in the swamp. The gators need to be fed,” the commissioner growled.

  Fat Larry's eyes were wide. Hodges really was serious! “Boss, um, I'm not sure, um...”

  “Word is its Books or someone around him. Find out. I want this nonsense dealt with fast and quiet.”

  “But um, boss, Ole Blue himself is now after Irons. He made it clear if anyone interferes he'll take them out,” Larry replied desperately. He was sweating profusely now. Talk about caught in a vice! He thought.

  “Ole Blue?” the commissioner said, eyes going wide. “Oh dear, dear me, then you're in quite a spot aren't you?” he asked sitting back.

  “Um...”

  “Ole Blue won't be interested if the contractor can't pay after all. He gets sort of uptight about that,” the commissioner said, reminding them both of a certain incident a few years ago that they'd both love to forget. Blue hadn't stopped at the contractor, he'd wiped out his entire family and everyone associated with him. Hodges had been forced to stop the killing by bribing the Veraxin with the fee, plus a penalty for not paying right away. He'd been furious over it, but he'd done it. It was either that or he'd have to go after the damn Veraxin, and he knew he'd end up a puddle if he did.

  “You just kill the contractor. I'll see to Ole Blue,” Hodges finally said. He winced internally, wondering how and who he could charge the bill to.

  “Thanks Boss,” Fat Larry said with a relieved nod. He took out a hanky and blotted his face and neck. The ceiling fan did little to alleviate his sweat. Not all of it was from the humidity. He felt like he was swimming in his suit right now.

  Hodges eyed him. “You'll thank me by paying the fee.”

  “Boss!” the mobster protested, looking up, eyes wide.

  “Yes?” Hodges asked mildly.

  Fat Larry's eyes fell. “Nothin boss.”

  “Then get out of here. You've got work to do and so do I,” Hodges said, jerking a big finger over his shoulder. Fat Larry bobbed a nod and showed himself out quickly and quietly as Hodges turned to the papers on his desk.

  After he was gone the commissioner sat back and rubbed the bridge of his nose, eyes closed. He turned back and forth in his barber chair. “Ole Blue, it had to be him,” he sighed.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  The familiar and dreaded clink, clink of a set of spurs on the ground made the fat commissioner looked up in anxiety. He'd dreaded this, but knew he had to go through with it, the other commissioners were leaning on him hard about it. He'd decided to make it official, taking the meeting in his office in town. He didn't like the idea of witnesses but it might deter Blue from getting too.... ornery. After all, even he should have some limits right? He wasn't sure if he wanted to find out. The door opened and the Veraxin assassin came through the door, followed by the sheriff.

  “You wished to speak with me Hodges?” Ole Blue asked, tipping hi
s hat back. His mandibles clicked a little, showing his annoyance. He was here out of amusement that someone would summon, him, and also avarice, the sheriff had promised him a consult fee for attending. Getting the clownish duo to pay up for a moment of his time would be child’s play.

  “Come in my friend, sit down, sit down,” Hodges said, rising and waving to a nearby chair.

  “Don't mind if I do,” the Veraxin said, coming around the chair and taking a seat. Hodges opened his mouth to say something but the Veraxin tipped the chair back and rested all four of his feet onto the edge of Hodges's desk, knocking over a photo of his precious Lulu.

  The Veraxin couldn't be very comfortable in the chair, it wasn't designed for his centaur body but he didn't seem to care. He pulled out a cigar from his right breast pocket and then lit it with a match. He waved the match out and then clenched the cigar in his mouth, puffing on it. After a moment he tossed the match over his shoulder.

  Rosco dodged the match and then pointed with a finger. “You, you, know there's a perfectly good brass spittoon right over yonder,” he said wiggle waggling his finger.

  “That a fact,” Ole Blue drawled, turning his head to pull the cigar out and spit in the opposite direction. Hodges winced. “So what do you want lard ass?” he asked, putting the cigar back in his mouth for another puff. He was enjoying this. Seeing Hodges gulp and pale was amusing.

  “I want you to change your mind about trying to kill this admiral fellow,” Hodges wheedled, coming around to stand next to the Veraxin. He crossed his arms over his fat paunch. “He's doing a lot for us. Besides, Lawrence has assured me that the contract has been canceled,” he said bobbing a nod.

  “That a fact,” the Veraxin drawled in a mechanical voice.

  “So, no payday,” the sheriff said.

  “Should he be here for this?” the Veraxin asked, not looking at the sheriff.

  “He's with me,” the commissioner said.

  “Suit yourself,” the Veraxin chattered. “Lawrence?” he asked.

  The sheriff stuttered. “He, he, he mean's Fat Larry don't cha know,” he stuttered in a small voice. He looked down at his shirt as the Veraxin finally turned to look at him.

  “That a fact,” the Veraxin drawled again. “He didn't put the contract out. But I'm curious, why do you want this Irons fella alive?”

  “He's doing a lot of good!” Hodges said with a self-effacing smile. “Isn't that enough?”

  “He means the man hasn't paid for all his fuel, and my fat little buddy hasn't squeezed more out of him,” the sheriff interjected.

  “That a fact,” the Veraxin said once more. He eyed the commissioner. “Is it a problem?”

  “No, no, I'll get my money,” the fat commissioner said waving a hand. “But it's also politics. The other county commissioners and police leaders have made it clear that Irons isn't to be touched. I do hope you understand,” he said.

  “So, all the commissioners are in on it?” The Veraxin asked. “All trying to squeeze the man?” He'd heard about the admiral's good deeds. He wasn't sure what to think about it, other than that it was a waste of time, and rather amusing. Irons knew by now his number was up, letting the man put the best spin on it was just amusing.

  “No, no, it's not like that. Irons does it all on his own. He shows up and starts fixing stuff, he doesn't even wait to be asked.”

  “So?”

  “So there isn't any point in this. No credits.”

  “You going to stop me?” The Veraxin croaked, looking at the sheriff with a cold look. The sheriff paled and gulped.

  “We're not saying that. We're saying there's no point,” Hodges said, spreading his hands in placation, sweat beading his brow. He reached up with a hanky to blot at it.

  “If this is all you've got, I expect a consult fee deposited in my account,” the Veraxin said, getting up so quickly he startled Rosco and Hodges. Both flinched. Ole Blue tipped his hat and turned. “Be seeing you around boys,” he said and walked out.

  When the door shut behind him and his shadow was gone from the glass both humans let out a sigh of relief mingled with frustration. “That is not a nice man,” the sheriff said, fingertips touching in front of his chest.

  “No truer words have ever been spoken,” Hodges replied hoarsely, rolling his eyes as he felt a wave of relief that the killer was gone. Slowly he sat in a chair. He wiped at his face again.

  “Here, let me get that little fat buddy,” the sheriff said, wiping at Hodges's face with his own handkerchief.

  “Get, get!” the commissioner said, waving his hands about in exasperation.

  “Oh, oh, I'm gone, I'm gone,” the sheriff said, moving out quick. Hodges seemed to deflate as the door slammed and then he rubbed his brow. He didn't know what he was going to do now.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  Irons tried to make an appointment to meet with Helen as well as other members of the various industrial and utility boards. The news made it difficult. Sprite was handling the details with the microcomputers and solar panels. They'd gone with the company in Gotham over the one in Metropolis. The one in Metropolis had too many shady deals tied to it. The bald C.E.O. just rubbed him the wrong way on so many levels.

  Unfortunately Helen and most of the other people he wanted to see where avoiding him. Which was incredibly annoying, he wasn't going to play the wait game forever after all, he had no intention of cooling his heels and waiting for the story to end before he got their attention.

  He sighed. Such a pity, he thought. Even with the retractions the EDP had printed it still wasn't getting through to the population or the politicians it seemed. Some of the other papers were still running the original story. The hysteria involved, tied to his good deeds... his comments about how people liked to tear their heroes down and prove they too are mortal rang through his head again.

  “Fine, if she won't see me, if any of them won't, that's fine,” the admiral said. “I'm not going to barge in to their office, knock down their door and insist they listen to me. So, what else can we do?” he asked.

  “I'm... looking into it,” Sprite said, sounding distracted.

  “Something up?” Irons asked.

  “Signal from Phoenix. A ship just entered the system,” Sprite said, voice taught. “Single contact,” she said as the admiral sat up straighter.

  “This system does get a lot of traffic,” Irons said.

  “It's a cross roads,” Sprite agreed. “According to Phoenix the ship is inbound from the B448c jump point.”

  “Okay.”

  “Eta... seventy hours to orbit.”

  “Seventy? Sounds like a fast ship,” the admiral replied. Most ships took days or even weeks to cross a system. Someone had taken good care of this old girl.”

  “Yes, should we consider offering our services to the ship? We could trade for goods and raw materials in exchange for repairs and parts,” Sprite said hopefully. “Which would further your agenda of getting the word out.”

  “And give you a peek at their data net?” he teased with a slight smile. “It's possible. That is if they are willing and if we don't get tied up with other projects.”

  “True,” Sprite replied with a sigh. “You've just received a reply from the waste management board. Someone named Snorphlax has agreed to meet you.”

  “Snorphlax?” Irons asked.

  “Gashg.”

  “Lovely. That's something that bothered me, we didn't see many in and around Hazard. And there are swamps in that area, plus that lake...”

  “Hazard was named for the lake admiral. The lake itself is a hazard. It's a swamp lake, the natural decaying biomass at the bottom occasionally lets loose lethal methane bubbles.”

  “So you're saying Hazard has gas? I thought it was just the cuisine,” Irons replied, one hand covering his belly.

  “Cute,” Sprite replied. “Apparently Hodges's ancestor came up with a way of tapping the methane for natural gas refining about sixty years ago. Crude, but it worked. It's been mai
nly used for heating and natural gas use for most of the sixty years, though lately Hodges has taken an interest in to diversifying the market a bit.”

  “Interesting. You've got to admit, the man has an eye for business,” Irons replied. “Okay, the Gashg, where and when?”

  “New Chicago today if possible, he mentioned problems with sewage. Fumes are making people sick and the contamination is ruining the natural resources in the area. And I see there's an article about a small river that has its own fire department because it catches fire every month or so...”

  The admiral grimaced, he could see where this was going. Fortunately, he unlike ninety nine point ninety nine percent of the population could shut his olfactory sense off if needed. He didn't like the idea of getting anything on a uniform though, he'd have to burn it afterward. “Lovely. Okay, time for more frequent flier miles I suppose...” the admiral said, quickly packing his few belongings in his duffel and then exiting the room. If he was going to make it to the appointment he had to check out of the hotel he was in and get into the air.

  Chapter 10

  It didn't take long for Jerry to pick the pieces of the trail of the stranger. It was a lot like tracking the mythological Sheriff Banniere. One thing immediately tallied up, though the witness's descriptions varied, all told of the man's outlander outfit. That told him right then and there it was the admiral. Of course he lacked proof, no one had bothered to get an image of this stranger.

  Still, he had enough to go on so he started feeding Perry the various stories. There were dozens, so they broke them up over the next couple of days.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  Irons picked up his copy of the paper and nodded. The headlines were boring, more about the rising temperatures and housing problems in the cities. He flipped through until he found Jerry Richard's byline.

  Jerry was apparently still running stories about a stranger doing strange things around the planet over the next two days. The admiral snorted softly when Sprite pointed them out. Most were buried on page three or four, others in the human interest or oddities stories. On the third day just as the freighter reached orbit Richards drew the conclusion that Irons was the one responsible for it all.