by Jay Allan
“ENOUGH!” Jason’s shout froze both of them just as Deetz looked like he was winding up for another long-winded retort. “Deetz … with the money this job paid, do you agree to send Twingo back to Breaker’s World on the first available transport?” He waited for the synth to nod his assent. “Thank you. Twingo … would you agree to this with the condition you wait for a bit to see what’s what with this Bondrass character? I know you’d rather leave, but I’d rather you not put us in danger, or mark yourself.”
“Fine,” Twingo said without conviction. Clearly he’d much rather be on the first flight away from Pinnacle, but he’d gotten all he was going to get out of the other two.
“Okay. That’s settled. I suppose we can just grab what we need and head out. I’m guessing that little guy still waiting by the door is going to show us to our rooms.” Jason didn’t wait for a response as he headed back to his quarters to grab what few belongings he had to take with him: a change of clothes and the toiletries he’d managed to coax the fabricators into producing.
He almost had everything bundled into a neat roll with his change of pants on the outside when there was a soft knock at his door. He walked over and slapped the spot on the wall that would open it. Twingo was standing there with a similar bundle to his own. “May I come in, Jason?”
“Of course. Something wrong?”
“Honestly, yes … but I don’t think you fully realize it yet.” The engineer came in and sat down in the chair at the desk. “This Bondrass is a notoriously bad, bad guy. I don’t get a good feeling about staying here any longer than necessary.”
“I can agree with you there, but I honestly don’t think we have much choice at this point. I know I’m a backworld rube to you, but I recognize a gangster when I see one. What do you think he wants with us?”
“I can’t really imagine. My first instinct tells me he’s going to want another job done, but he has to know that Deetz is more of a con artist and you, although trained as a soldier on your own world, are very much out of your element here. He could buy and sell a thousand of me so that’s certainly not it,” Twingo said, pausing as if he wanted to say more.
“Go on,” Jason prompted.
“It may be the ship. While something like this bird isn’t necessarily unobtainable, it is a bit of a rare mix of firepower and speed. It would certainly be worth getting rid of three nobodies for.”
“Something tells me you’re here because you have an idea on how to prevent that rather than to just give me a warning.”
“Very perceptive,” Twingo smiled. “I’d like to use your authority to put some locks in place on the ship’s computer. Bondrass’ people would correctly assume Deetz has been in command of the vessel, but when you were named First Officer you automatically outranked him as far as the computer was concerned. I’m not sure that he realized that when he gave you such a high rank. The locks, that only you can control, could be used as leverage for anyone who would want to take the ship, be that Bondrass or Deetz.” The last part surprised Jason somewhat. He hadn’t realized just how deep Twingo’s distrust of Deetz was. While the synth was supremely annoying, and he shared some of those misgivings, he didn’t think he would deliberately put them in danger or run out on them at this point.
“Okay, tell me what to do,” Jason said as he sat down on the foot of the bed. Over the next five minutes, Twingo talked him through the commands he needed to give the computer to gain access to the security protocols and safeguard them so only he could rescind them. Once finished, they grabbed their gear and headed back towards the cargo bay where they found a very impatient synth waiting for them.
“Where have you two been? You only have one change of clothes to your names…”
“What?” Jason asked as he walked by. “We have a schedule to meet or something?” Deetz rolled his eyes and activated the security lock up, unwittingly triggering Jason’s new subroutine, and walked down the ramp before it could raise and lock.
The concierge, who had been waiting patiently by the hangar access hatch, led them through the bowels of the lower station, his impeccable clothes clashing with the grimy surroundings. They arrived at a set of lift doors and were ushered inside. They rode the lift further and further until even Deetz’s brow shot up as they traversed into the extremely posh upper decks of Pinnacle Station. The doors finally opened and they walked out into an opulent passageway, still following the concierge until they reached an open hatchway. Walking inside, they were momentarily stunned by how well appointed their temporary quarters were. Jason was the first to speak: “We’re being buttered up for something. This can’t be cheap.”
“This is one of many suites Mr. Bondrass keeps on retainer for clients who may be passing through.” It was the first time the concierge had spoken since they had exited the hangar. “If there won’t be anything else, sirs, I’ll leave you now. If you’re needed, someone will send for you.” He spun and walked out, shutting the hatch behind him.
“Anyone want to bet that it’s locked?” Twingo asked as he sprawled out on the sofa, obviously deciding that he might as well take advantage of a little luxury while he could. Jason walked around the suite and, as on the gunship, was struck at how familiar the furnishings and fixtures were. He said as much.
“Why has everything looked like it could have come from my planet? For that matter, why haven’t the aliens I’ve met been all that exotic?”
“Aliens?” Deetz laughed at him. “Take a look around, you’re the most alien being on this station right now.” He laughed again, ignoring Jason’s glare.
“There’s a logical reason for that,” Twingo spoke up. “For whatever reason, intelligent life seems to evolve along a certain few tracts, mostly. Warm-blooded creatures all tend to be bipedal with bilateral symmetry once they reach a certain level of evolution. Some have more appendages or specialized sensory organs, but we’re all pretty similar, and as such we tend to congregate together. On some worlds, insectoid life becomes dominant, or prime, and those species tend to stick together as well. It’s more out of a lack of communication ability than any real prejudice, although some of them are a fright to look at. There’s simply no real common ground for us to meet on. Beings like us tend to be more individualistic while insectoid life is more hive-oriented with a strong group-think instinct.” Twingo took a sip of something he had grabbed from the wet bar before continuing. It looked suspiciously like a beer bottle to Jason.
“There have been some pretty nasty wars between the two, but for eons there has been a steady peace between us in this part of the galaxy. Well, more or less. We don’t really compete for the same resources and aren’t motivated by the same factors, so we’ve learned it’s better to just ignore each other. Of course, there are some truly bizarre folks out there, energy beings and what not, but you don’t get to interact with them all that much if you stick to the established worlds and space lanes.”—another sip—”Any other questions?”
“Is that a beer?”
“That’s seriously your only question?”
“Yes.”
“OK,” Twingo chuckled, raising his free hand up in mock surrender. “Yes, the cooler is stocked with a few varieties of ales from a couple of different worlds. I’m sure it’s similar to what you have on your planet. Fermenting sugars seems to be the first technological leap we all take together.” Jason walked over to the bar, opened the cooler door, and peeked inside. Sure enough, there were familiar bottles lined up, a little smaller than a twelve-ounce bottle and with a different style cap, but beer bottles nonetheless. It can’t be all that bad out here if they have beer.
Taking a long pull off the bottle, Jason tilted his head back and let the liquid play across his palate. If he closed his eyes and didn’t think at it too closely, it really did taste eerily similar to a Harp Lager from Ireland back on Earth with a little more body to it and a slightly sweetish finish. He took another drink and let out a breath. “Ahh … I really did need that,” he said, hoping the work the
ship’s medical bay had done on him so he could eat would also work its magic with the alien brew.
A loud, keening screech startled Jason so badly he spilled some of the beer on his shirt. He wiped at it as he looked for the source of the odd noise. What the hell … He spotted Twingo sitting at a computer terminal, his normally bluish hue now a sickly pallor. He looked so agitated that Jason walked over to see what the issue was. Unfortunately, he couldn’t read a single word on the screen. What he could see, however, were the images, and one of the four on the screen was of the gunship in flight over Breaker’s World, its main engines at full power. Another was of Twingo. It looked like a mug shot so Jason assumed it must have been a photo from his employer or an ID database.
“What’s it say?” he asked, unable to hold back any longer.
“I’m wanted for questioning in the deaths of three individuals and the escape of a Jepsen Aero DL7 gunship,” Twingo replied simply.
“Well that’s ridiculous. You were an innocent bystander,” Jason said, placating his friend. “That should be easy enough to clear up.”
“You don’t understand!” Twingo turned on him with an uncharacteristic ferocity. “Breaker’s World is run by the cartels. They KNOW what happened, but they don’t care. They want you guys and that ship, but all they have is a positive ID on me.” He placed his head in his hands and started moaning. “I can’t believe this.” Jason didn’t know what else to do, so he was surprised when Deetz came forward and placed a hand on Twingo’s shoulder.
“Maybe you should try to go lay down for a bit and clear your head. This is obviously about the cargo we were carrying. We can have Bondrass’ people clear this up with the local cartels on Breaker’s World,” the synth said with what seemed to be genuine concern for the little engineer. Twingo simply nodded and plodded off to one of the rooms without a word. Once the door closed, Deetz turned to Jason. “That’s probably good advice for you too. I don’t really know what’s going on and I’d like to have you rested and alert when we find out.” He looked pointedly at the half-empty bottle. “I’d really rather not have you intoxicated either.”
“Probably not a bad idea,” Jason agreed without argument. He left the bottle on the bar and headed towards one of the other empty rooms, intent on a shower and then some sleep.
CHAPTER 11
Jason awoke some time later, not knowing how long he had slept, to the sound of voices coming from the main room. One was clearly Deetz, and one was clearly not. He stayed still and concentrated, still unable to make out what was being said. “Son of a bitch,” he murmured under his breath, grabbing the translator earpiece off the table next to the bed. He stuffed it into his right ear but by the time the little device had booted up, the other unidentified voice had left. Figuring there was no point in lying there any longer, he swung his legs off the bed and stood up, pulling on his shirt. After multiple combat tours he slept in his pants and boots when he was in an unknown or potentially hostile environment. This counted as both in his book.
When Jason walked out into the main living area he saw Deetz sitting at the computer terminal reading documents at breakneck speed. Twingo was nowhere in sight, likely still sleeping. Deetz looked over at him and gestured to the larger sofa. “A gift for you. From Bondrass, or more likely his consigliere. We’re invited to dine with him in three hours.”
“An invitation would indicate we have the option to turn it down,” Jason said as he picked up what looked like two garment bags.
“A poor choice of words perhaps. I should have said in three hours we WILL be dining with Bondrass at his pleasure. I’m assuming there is something along the lines of a job he’d like us to undertake,” Deetz replied as he turned back to the display. Jason was about to retort that he wasn’t aware there was an “us” in the equation, but bit back the comment and walked to his room with the larger of the garment bags.
The clothing was fairly straightforward: pants, a shirt, and a banded-collar jacket that went high up his neck. It was actually more elegantly simple than an Earthly suit and tie. What he was amazed and suspicious about was the tailoring. The clothes fit him absolutely perfectly in every way: the neck, inseam, and even the fact that his left shoulder was minutely lower than his right. He assumed he must have been scanned at some point while walking through Pinnacle Station, something his human sensibilities took offense to for some reason.
He walked back out of his room a short time later to see that Twingo’s door was still shut, but the other garment bag was missing. Deetz was sitting on the sofa watching what must have been a newscast on the largest display he had ever seen. Jason stared for a moment, trying to figure out why a machine would bother sitting on the sofa in the first place. He walked to the bar and grabbed another beer out of the cooler, ignoring the synth’s reproachful gaze. Screw him. If I’m being forced to go along with this I’m going to do it relaxed. He hadn’t felt any ill effects from the previous half a beer he had drank so now it was bottoms up. He apparently wasn’t the only one with a case of nerves as Twingo, emerging from his room resplendent in his new suit, walked straight to the bar without comment and grabbed a bottle of something off the shelf above the counter and poured a liberal amount into a glass. He fired the drink back, winced, and then repeated the process twice more before speaking to his companions. “How much longer?”
“We’ve got about an hour and a half,” Deetz said.
“Seeing as how we’re obviously not being treated like prisoners, do we really need to wait around to be collected by an underling?” Jason set his empty bottle back on the bar and stared at Deetz.
“I’m not sure I follow you,” he replied.
“What I mean is this: can’t we go early and wait for our host? I’d sort of like to get a view of the place before I have Bondrass’ people watching my every move.”
“I know which establishment we’re going to, so I suppose it’s possible. We could wait in the lounge, I’m certain our movements will be monitored, but what you’re suggesting may not be a bad idea.” Deetz switched off the display and rose from the couch.
“So there’s really no way I can just stay here?” Twingo paled visibly now that the meeting with the crime boss went from being a hypothetical event in the future to a reality in the present.
“You know the answer to that,” Deetz said gently as he walked with Jason towards the door.
“Try and relax a bit, Twingo. If a few peons like us were simply going to be killed, I doubt we’d be getting dinner and gifts. Unless this Bondrass is one sick bastard,” Jason said, looking at Deetz, who just shrugged noncommittally.
The restaurant they were heading to was three decks below them and along the outer edge of the hull, providing diners with spectacular starscapes as they ate. Nobody tried to stop them along their way, confirming that they were probably free to roam around the station somewhat without drawing the ire of Bondrass. They were seated at a table in the lounge and the two biological beings ordered drinks. All three settled in to watch the ebb and flow of the crowd and wait for their host.
The flurry of activity near the entrance was their first indication that the main event was about to kick off. Some oversized aliens of a species Jason had not yet seen led the way in, obviously point security by the way they scanned the crowd. A couple of underlings walked in and then Bondrass appeared, all smiles and waves to the crowd, his shimmering black suit complementing his olive green skin. He spotted the gunship crew and waved like they were old friends, making several patrons look at the trio with new interest.
“Boys!” he boomed. “Starting without me? Let’s all grab another drink before we head to our table.” While his demeanor was bombastic and friendly, Jason could see through the act. It was more for the benefit of the other patrons in the lounge than to put them at ease.
A short while after Bondrass’ arrival, they were shown to their table. Only the boss and his right-hand man joined them; the rest of the entourage mingled around in the lounge or posted up di
screetly at the entrance. Once they had all ordered (Jason with the help of Deetz), things turned to business.
“I don’t always give my contractors the royal treatment like this,” Bondrass started, taking a sip of what looked like a dark red wine. “But you’ve proven that you’re able to overcome adversity and still remember who it is you work for. Frankly, I was surprised when you showed back up with my cargo completely intact. We’ve tested it and it wasn’t tampered with in the least.” Jason could tell they were on dangerous ground. He hoped Twingo would just keep his mouth shut and Deetz would find a graceful way to get them out of any future obligations to this guy. “What I was equally surprised at, Deetz, was the complete crew change. Not that I was especially partial to Klegsh, it was the ship I was hiring, but for a synth you’ve shown a remarkable self-preservation instinct and uncommonly good sense. No offense intended.”
“None taken, sir, and I thank you for the compliment. Of course it goes without saying that it never crossed my mind to try and cross you,” Deetz said. Bondrass looked unimpressed with the synth’s bootlicking.
“Of course. Which brings me to the main point, as it were.” Bondrass leaned back and took another drink. “I have an … opportunity … for you to make some serious cash for not a lot of work.”
“I’m listening,” Deetz said eagerly.
“I need some cargo and personnel moved fairly quickly from this station to another location, not on a planet. My ships are all too well known to be able to slip out of here without someone observing, but your vessel is virtually anonymous, save for that action on Breaker’s World. You could get out of here with minimal effort and be done with the job within a matter of days, paid and on your way.”
“That sounds extremely generous, sir. Do you think it’d be possible for me to discuss this with my crew and give you an answer?” Deetz’s answer completely took Jason by surprise. He assumed that the synth would jump at the chance of another job and Jason and Twingo would be the ones trying to convince him to walk away. Something had changed and he didn’t know what it was.