by Huw Powell
‘Why would we be heading there?’ wondered Jake. ‘What did they mean by picking up special cargo?’
‘I don’t know, but at least they didn’t say they were dropping off passengers.’ Callidus glanced out of the porthole window. ‘Whatever the reason, we’ll find out soon enough, because we’re less than a day away.’
‘How do you know?’ asked Jake. ‘Have you been there in the past?’
‘I don’t have a past,’ said Callidus. ‘At least, not one that I care to remember.’
The hatch slid open and Woorak entered.
‘Hello, valued g-g-guests. Have you f-f-finished eating?’
‘Never mind that,’ said Callidus. ‘Why are we heading to Papa Don’s? We agreed to set course for the next solar system.’
‘H-h-hey, take it easy, matey. We’re just taking a little d-d-detour, that’s all.’
‘A detour?’ scoffed Capio.
‘Aye, we were contacted by the m-m-man himself,’ said Woorak. ‘Papa Don wants us to do a job for him.’
‘What kind of job?’ demanded Callidus.
‘Seriously, calm down. It’s not a big d-d-deal.’ Woorak held up his hands. ‘All we have to do is p-p-pick up a package for delivery. It’s what we do here on the Dark Horse. We haul c-c-cargo.’
‘How long will it take?’ asked Jake. ‘What’s in the package?’
‘Sorry, little feller, I’ve told you e-e-everything I know. If you have any m-m-more questions, I suggest you ask Granny Leatherhead.’
Woorak grabbed a handful of empty food packets out of the air and left the room before anyone could ask him another question. Was he telling the truth? Whatever the reason for the change in direction, they were going to Papa Don’s spaceport, whether they liked it or not.
After twelve painfully slow hours, Jake spotted something out of the porthole window. In the distance, near the Tego Nebula, there was a large metallic object rotating in space, with the name Papa Don’s painted on its hull. It was almost as big as the naval warship they had seen over Remota, though not as well armed. Three small ships orbited the spaceport, like horses on a carousel, awaiting permission to dock.
‘The space mafia set up the port next to the Tego Nebula for protection,’ said Callidus. ‘Most nebulas are just giant clouds of space dust, but this one is special. It’s ionised with electricity, which helps to shield Papa Don’s from attacks.’
‘How come?’ asked Jake.
‘Because the static interferes with a spaceship’s computers and weapon systems, making them unreliable. It means the spaceport has difficulty with its own technology, but that’s a small price to pay for free natural defences.’
‘Won’t the Dark Horse be affected?’
‘Yes,’ said Callidus. ‘The pilot will have to steer the ship in manually. We had better strap ourselves in.’
It wasn’t the first time the Space Dogs had visited Papa Don’s and the landing was surprisingly smooth, with only a few bumps and scrapes along the way. The Dark Horse pulled up alongside a docking bay in the spaceport. Jake couldn’t see much through the porthole window, only dark metal walls and thick rubber pipes. The sound of industrial machinery and loud voices could be heard outside. A few minutes later, the hatch to their room opened and Granny Leatherhead stomped in with Farid and Kodan.
‘OK, listen up, you gutless guffoons,’ she croaked. ‘We’re stopping here to refuel and pick up cargo. I know you’ve been stuck in this room for five long days, so I’m going to let you stretch your legs. I know, I know, I’m too kind, but don’t go getting any ideas about running off, because if you try anything funny . . .’
Granny Leatherhead nodded to Kodan, who pulled a finger across his throat.
‘Thanks for the offer,’ said Callidus. ‘But if it’s all the same with you, we’d rather stay here, away from the galaxy’s most wanted criminals.’
‘I’m sorry, mister fortune stinker, but you don’t have any choice in the matter. I want you off my ship for a couple of hours. Farid and Kodan will keep you out of trouble.’
Granny Leatherhead turned and left the room.
‘Come on,’ said Farid, standing by the door and clapping his hands. ‘Let’s get moving.’
Chapter 8
Papa Don’s
Jake shivered as he walked down the loading ramp and stepped on to the docking bay, which was one of a hundred surrounding the main service hub. The spaceport was bitterly cold and it reeked of fuel, but at least there was oxygen and artificial gravity. Around him, rust-coloured condensation trickled down the walls, as though the spaceport itself was bleeding. Jake had never seen such an incredible structure – a whole city in space.
As the others joined him, he glanced across to the neighbouring bays and noticed a number of cargo haulers were docked, most of them old and damaged. He wondered if they were also pirate ships in disguise, either there on business or hiding from the Interstellar Navy.
‘Hey, I know that vessel,’ he said, pointing to a large black cruiser laden with laser cannon. ‘That’s James Hawker’s ship, the Lost Soul. It’s the most wanted spacecraft in the galaxy.’
‘Keep your voice down,’ hissed Farid. ‘And stop pointing. We don’t want any trouble, especially not with him.’
Farid was right to be cautious of such a feared and famous pirate. Jake suddenly felt exposed and moved closer to Callidus.
‘Do you think it’s safe here?’ he whispered.
‘Not in the slightest,’ said the fortune seeker. ‘Just stay close to me and don’t do anything stupid.’
Farid led them across a floating pontoon to the main service hub, while Kodan followed behind to make sure nobody strayed. Jake wasn’t used to gravity after days in space and he found it difficult to walk without dragging his feet. He wished he had removed the magnets from his shoes.
‘Where are we going?’ he asked.
‘For a stroll,’ said Farid. ‘If you’re lucky, we’ll stop for a bite to eat on the way.’
‘Will we pass a crystal dealer?’ asked Callidus.
‘That can be arranged.’ Farid waved his identification card at a wall scanner. ‘I know some people who specialise in stolen jewels. Are you buying or selling?’
‘Neither, I just need some information to help us find Altus.’
The entrance door slid open, releasing a medley of music and voices, mashed with the clatter of tools and machinery.
Capio held his nose. ‘What’s that smell?’
‘Welcome to Papa Don’s,’ said Farid, wafting the air. ‘You’ll get used to the stench of recycled oxygen and faulty sewage systems . . . after a while.’
Jake had expected the criminal underworld to be dark and scary, but the main hub was bustling with colourful characters. He had never seen so many tattoos and piercings, nor such a variety of clothes and hairstyles. There were even luminous hair dyes and spray tans that glowed in the shadows. It was like being at a space carnival.
A number of people had robotic limbs and implants and Jake guessed they must be tough veterans who had seen action in many space battles. Jake felt small and intimidated, so it was reassuring to pass two security guards in riot gear. The men carried old-fashioned machine guns and combat knives, with two-way radios clipped to their belts. It appeared that even illegal spaceports needed some level of law and order.
Kodan nodded to the guards, who bobbed their heads in reply. One of them glanced at Jake, perhaps surprised to see a teenage boy. As their eyes met, something strange happened to Jake’s vision, causing him to stop and hold on to the wall.
‘Are you OK?’ whispered Callidus.
The guards slowed down, their hands resting on their machine guns.
‘It’s my eye implants,’ said Jake. ‘There’s something wrong with them. My sight has scrambled.’
What was going on? All he could see were rough shapes swimming in a sea of static.
‘Here, take my arm. We have to keep walking.’
Callidus led Jake up the
corridor to a quieter section, away from the guards.
‘That’s better,’ said Jake, his vision clearing. ‘It was horrible, like I was going blind or something.’
‘Has that ever happened before?’
‘No, never.’
‘Perhaps it was the nebula,’ suggested Farid.
‘Yeah, maybe,’ said Jake. ‘But then why has it stopped?’
Nobody knew the answer. What he needed was a cyber-monk, but there wasn’t likely to be one in Papa Don’s. Jake rested until he was sure his eyes were OK, and then continued up the corridor.
There were ten main halls inside the spaceport, connected by long walkways. These were lined with shops and market stalls, where you could purchase everything from rare animals to illegal weapons. Jake spotted one stand advertising fake United Worlds passports and another selling stolen hover-bikes. There was even a one-armed house robot flogging hacker software. Farid and Kodan had to push away the more persistent traders.
As they passed a rough-looking bar, Jake heard a loud commotion inside. He peered through the door and saw a massive brawl taking place. At least thirty shipmates were trading punches and kicks, while others launched themselves off tables on to unsuspecting targets. Two men spilled out on to the walkway next to him, exchanging blows. As far as Jake could determine from their tattoos, it was a fight between two crews: the Starbucklers and the Crimson Hulls.
‘Watch out!’ warned Capio.
Jake ducked as a bar stool flew out of the door, missing him by inches.
‘Come on,’ said Callidus, pulling him clear. ‘We’ve got a crystal dealer to find.’
The five of them walked on through the port for an hour before they came to a row of shops set behind barred windows. Jake could see displays of jewellery and antiquities for sale, most likely stolen goods. Farid pointed to a cracked glass door.
‘Annie Teak’s,’ said Callidus, reading the sign above the window.
‘I know it doesn’t look much,’ conceded Farid. ‘But she knows her stuff. Annie used to work in a crystal museum in the first solar system, before she got caught stealing. Just don’t tell her I’m here, because I owe her money.’
Callidus took Jake inside the narrow shop, while the others waited on the walkway. The walls were covered with valuables, ranging from gold-plated pistols to ancient wrist computers. Annie was a middle-aged woman with cropped yellow hair, sitting behind the counter reading an old paper novel.
‘Excuse me,’ said Callidus. ‘I wonder if you could take a look at something for us.’
Jake pulled out his pendant.
‘Is that gold?’ she asked, squinting.
‘Yes,’ said Jake.
‘I’ll give you ten Reus dollars for it.’
Jake tightened his grip. ‘It’s not for sale.’
‘OK, twenty, but that’s my final offer.’
‘That’s not why we’re here,’ said Callidus. ‘We were hoping you could tell us something about the pendant.’
Annie put her book down and prodded the three crystals.
‘It looks old, really old,’ she said. ‘I don’t recognise the design. It’s possibly from the fifth solar system, but the gold is definitely local – that greenish tint is unique to the seventh solar system. I’ve never seen such colourful crystals. Where did you get it, boy?’
‘My dad gave it to me.’
‘A likely story. Are you sure you don’t want to sell it?’
‘Positive.’ Jake slipped the pendant back inside his top.
‘Well, let me know if you change your mind.’ Annie picked up her novel and started to read again.
Jake didn’t move. There was one more question he wanted to ask. ‘Could it be from Altus?’
Annie glared at him over her book. ‘Is that supposed to be funny, boy? I don’t have time for jokes. Take your humour elsewhere, before I call security.’
‘But –’
Callidus grabbed Jake’s arm and pulled him outside, where the others were waiting.
‘Did you get the information you wanted?’ asked Farid.
‘Not exactly,’ said Callidus.
Jake shook off the fortune seeker’s grip. ‘That was our best clue. How will we find Altus now?’
Callidus didn’t respond.
‘Cal will think of something,’ said Capio confidently. ‘He always does.’
‘He’d better,’ warned Farid. ‘Granny Leatherhead doesn’t like bad news. Let’s get some food and head back to the ship.’
It was several hours since they had last eaten. Farid knew a place nearby that sold stellar-burgers, made from real meat farmed there in the spaceport. Jake didn’t dare ask what kind of animal.
The café was just a small cabin with a few cheap tables scattered out front, but after five days of nothing except liquid meals, the sensation of eating solid food was amazing. Farid even managed to rustle up some apple sauce for Jake, which he spread generously over his burger.
‘Thanks, Farid. You know what? I don’t reckon space pirates are as bad as everyone makes out.’
‘We’re not all that good either,’ laughed the first mate, munching the rest of his burger.
‘SECURITY TO BAY SEVEN. SECURITY TO BAY SEVEN,’ boomed a loud speaker above them. ‘THIS IS AN EMERGENCY. RIOT IN PROGRESS.’
‘I don’t like the sound of that,’ said Callidus. ‘Where’s bay seven?’
‘Not far from here,’ said the first mate.
‘Which bay are we docked in?’ asked Capio, wiping his mouth.
‘Fifty-three, which is miles away,’ said Farid.
In the distance came the sound of shouting and banging. A team of security guards rushed by the café and disappeared down the walkway. As they passed, Jake felt his vision flicker. What was wrong with him?
‘SECURITY TO BAY SEVEN. SECURITY TO BAY SEVEN,’ repeated the speaker. ‘THIS IS AN EMERGENCY. RIOT IN PROGRESS.’
‘Come on,’ said Callidus, standing up. ‘Let’s get away from here.’
The disturbance grew louder and more security guards appeared, weapons at the ready. A nearby window smashed and a cloud of stun gas exploded.
‘Too late,’ shouted Capio. ‘Here they come.’
The guards retreated back up the walkway, pursued by a mob of angry space pirates in khaki combat suits. They were chanting abuse and throwing bottles. Farid shoved aside tables to create a path back to the walkway, but they were caught between the security guards and the space pirates. As Jake crouched to avoid the stun gas, his eyes flooded with static.
‘Help, I can’t see,’ he said, but his voice was lost in the uproar.
The walkway filled with smoke and fighting broke out. In the confusion, Jake felt his way through the crowd, squeezing between heavy bodies, occasionally catching a fist or elbow. He pushed his way clear and staggered into open space, his hands held out in front of him. Where was he? What was wrong with his eyes? Were the others OK?
As Jake moved away from the riot, his vision improved. He wiped the smoke from his eyes and spotted Callidus trying to break through a wall of security guards.
‘Let me pass,’ demanded the fortune seeker. ‘I’m not a rioter.’
Next to them, Capio was being restrained by two guards, but Farid was refusing to cooperate and it took four guards to hold down Kodan.
‘Hey,’ cried Jake. ‘Leave them alone.’
Two of the security guards broke away and lunged at Jake through the smoke, their arms outstretched. His vision scrambled, but he instinctively ducked their fat fingers and rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding the edge of the walkway.
‘Run, Jake!’ shouted Farid. ‘Get back to the ship and tell the captain what has happened.’
Jake leapt to his feet and ran up the walkway, barely able to see where he was going. The two guards lumbered after him, like a couple of overweight bears.
‘Stop!’ shouted one of them.
Jake cursed the magnets on his shoes for slowing him down. He threw random objects
on to the metal floor behind him, forcing the guards through an obstacle course of tables, chairs and dustbins. The traders cheered at the free entertainment.
Jake ran for what seemed like hours, chasing along walkway after walkway. He was half blind, his feet hurt and he had a stitch. If only he could stop for a moment to rest.
Just as he thought his lungs might burst, he heard a small explosion up ahead. He searched for the source of the noise, fearing another riot. Two red-faced men were sprinting towards him, pursued by a hobbling security guard.
‘Clear the walkway,’ cried the men.
‘Stop them,’ shouted the guard.
Jake threw himself into a doorway and watched the two men pass. It was only then that he noticed they were chained together. He poked his head back out and saw them charge straight into the two guards who were chasing him. Jake seized his opportunity to escape and slipped away, while the three security guards restrained the red-faced men.
When he reached the next walkway, he realised that he was alone in an illegal spaceport, surrounded by space pirates and he had no idea where he was going. This section was different to the rest. There were no docking bays or traders, only rows of iron doors with barred windows. It meant that he had either found a very secure hotel, or he had stumbled into the prison block.
Jake spotted a large hole in the wall, where there should have been a cell. Its charred edges were still smoking and a mangled iron door swung on its remaining hinge. He wondered if the riot had just been a diversion, so the two men could escape.
‘Hello?’ he called, to check the coast was clear.
Jake passed an abandoned reception desk and felt his vision worsen. A two-way radio hummed and crackled in its charger. He picked it up and held it close to his head, causing the static to dance wildly in front of his eyes.
That was it!
Most modern communicators relied on the stellar-net, but the security guards in Papa Don’s were forced to use older technology, because of the nebula cloud. It had to be the radio waves interfering with his eye implants. He switched off the device and his sight was restored instantly.
Jake ventured further inside the prison block, hoping to find another exit. He resisted the urge to peek through the cell windows, deciding that only the most despicable criminals would be imprisoned in an illegal spaceport. As he passed door after door, his ears picked up a mixture of coughs, grunts and snores.