by Hal Archer
"Watch your step, bub," the driver said.
"Good advice."
He glanced at the driver to see how crazy he seemed. It was hard to tell, Jake thought. He opened the door. The wind howled and pulled the door open wider. Jake held on to it, more to brace himself than out of concern for the door.
Too much to ask to move a bit closer.
He hopped out of the cab onto the platform, forgetting to close the door behind him. He quickly took about ten steps before pausing to glance back at the cab. He saw it move away from the building and tip sharply to the driver's side. The backseat passenger-side door dropped shut. The sky cab flew away, and Jake walked to the wall of tinted glass.
He stood in front of the door. He didn't see an intercom or a camera. There wasn't a button of any sort, nor was there a handle on the door.
He knocked on the glass.
While he waited for a response, he noticed how cold the wind felt. His ever-present brown leather jacket did a decent enough job fighting the chill, but his head and hands were feeling it. Cold hands make for a slow trigger finger, he thought. He didn't like that prospect. He cupped them and blew some warm air into them before rubbing them together for a few seconds.
The door opened inward.
Jake stood in front of the open door, gazing at the room just inside. It had a green marble floor, no furniture, dim lighting from recesses in the high white ceiling, and two openings at the back of the room. Hallways, Jake thought. He felt the wind come in from behind him and whirl around in front of him. A tingling sensation washed over him as he stepped through the threshold. Once inside the room, he noticed the air was still. It was quiet too. He stuck his hand back through the doorway. He felt the tingling in his hand, then the whirling wind outside. He pulled his arm back and glanced at the door jamb for any signs of the tech responsible for the charged field, but he saw nothing but the smooth black metal frame. The door closed.
"That's a clever trick," he said.
He moved further into the room and glanced around. The side walls were silver, metallic, he guessed.
"Hello?" His voice echoed in the room. "I'm looking for the Professor."
He walked to one of the two openings at the other side of the room and looked down it. Same green marble floor, white walls, high ceilings. The corridor curved to the left. He couldn't see anything past fifteen feet.
"Anyone home?"
He stood for several seconds, but didn't hear a response. He stepped to the other opening. Same situation, except it curved to the right. He could see that the curve was a semi-circle which ran back toward the center.
"Name's Jake Mudd," he said, louder than before. "I'm here to see the Professor."
No response.
Well, the door did open.
Jake headed down the right corridor. When he rounded the curve, he heard the faints sounds of a piano. Several more steps and he saw the end of the hall opening into an expansive room, twice as high as the hall. The first wall that came into view was covered from floor to ceiling with books. There was a rolling ladder leaning against the top of the second story of bookshelves.
"Professor?"
Jake stepped into the room and saw the full breadth of it. He glanced to his left, checking his flank—old habit. He saw where the other corridor joined the room. Across a red leather sofa, past an oval mahogany glass-inset coffee table, between two oversized upholstered tweed-cloth chairs a man sat before the keys of a black grand piano. Jake couldn't see his face. The top of the piano was angled open, blocking his view of the man above his chest.
The man kept playing. Jake didn't recognize the music, but then Jake had little experience with music—unless blaster fire or the sounds men made under the pain of hand-to-hand combat counted as music.
Jake stepped down into the recessed area of the floor containing the furniture and piano. He cleared his throat to signal the man at the piano, but the man kept playing.
Jake moved to the left of the red sofa, so the man could see him. "Professor?"
The man played on for another twenty seconds, finishing the piece. He exhaled and smiled. Then he rose from the bench and faced Jake.
"The cabby told me of your arrival," the man said.
Jake nodded to the man. "Jake Mudd. You're the Professor?"
"I am." He approached Jake with his hand extended. He was strikingly slender, but not frail. Jake figured it was just the way the man was built. He wore a light brown beard, almost blonde. It was long and narrow, like the Professor himself. He dressed the part, a brown suit, the kind with the crossover lapel which buttoned at the right side of the waist—old school, Jake thought.
Jake checked him for weapons as the Professor approached, shaking his hand when he stepped close enough.
"Thank you for seeing me," Jake said.
"We haven't met before, have we?"
"No. But I was told you are the man I need to talk to."
The Professor gestured to the red sofa, then stood at the side of one of the two chairs. "And what can I do for you, Mr. Mudd?"
Jake sat on the sofa, immediately feeling uneasy. It was too soft, causing him to sink into it. Not the best way to keep on your toes, he thought.
The Professor sat and Jake decided to endure the squishy sofa for the moment.
"I'm trying to get a hold of something that's hard to find," Jake said.
The Professor stared at him for a moment before answering. "Eon is a big city with lots to offer." He smiled and seemed to wait for Jake's response.
Jake decided to cut to the point, since he already had word the Professor trafficked goods considered illicit, even in Eon. "I need an anonymized galactic shipping license."
"Oh, Mr. Mudd," the Professor leaned back in his chair and crossed one leg over the other, "you do know that's illegal, don't you?"
"Look Professor, I'm not here to play games. I don't mean any disrespect, but I need the license and the word is you're the man that can help me."
The Professor stared at Jake, but kept a cordial expression. "I appreciate your candor. I'm not saying you are wrong. If anyone in Eon can secure such a thing, it would be I. However, I'm not sure why I would. After all, I have a reputation to uphold. Getting involved in such activities may not be something I'm prepared to do."
It may have been the squishy red sofa, which kept making odd noises when Jake moved, trying in vain to get comfortable, but he was getting irritated. He decided to up the ante for the Professor by playing on his rivalry with Vos.
"Look, Professor, I've spent hours walking the streets and alleys tracking someone down who can help me out with this. I'm just passing through. I'd really like to take care of business and leave Eon as soon as possible. I'd go to the other guy, but last time I tried that I got shot at. Still, maybe he's the one I need to talk to. Vos, I think was his name."
Jake watched the Professor's elevated demeanor sour.
The Professor's brow crunched slightly and his lips tightened, even quivering a little. His face reddened. He drew and released a long breath and re-established his composure. "Perhaps I've been too hasty to dismiss your request, Mr. Mudd."
"Glad to hear that."
The Professor got up and walked to the wall of books. "I'm not like that man," he said. "Vos is a degenerate, a savage, like many in Eon."
Jake said nothing, letting the Professor say what he needed to say, so long as he was going to help out with the license.
The Professor stroked his long beard as he walked, looking over the spines of his books. He nodded toward a few of them, as if remembering what important words they contained.
"You've probably never seen so many of these," he said, still gazing at the books.
Jake didn't want to confess he'd only seen three books up close. The most recent was locked away in his quarters aboard his ship Sarah—AI Merging Procedures.
"Not in one place," Jake said.
The Professor turned to face Jake. He smiled, ear-to-ear. "Years of hard work."
"I imagine so." Jake pushed himself up from the slumped position the sofa had eased upon him. "It's an impressive library."
Why the hell anyone would want so many books, I have no idea.
"Power," the Professor said. "That's what these represent, Mr. Mudd."
Right. Sure they do.
"How do you think I came to live way up here?"
Too scared to deal with people?
"I'll be honest with you, Professor. You're probably over my head. My education was always more hands on."
The Professor stared at Jake for a moment. "Yes, I suppose it was." He walked back to his chair and sat. "Well, let's talk about your license."
About damn time.
"I can help you with this," the Professor said, "but…"
Jake looked around the room, then back to the Professor. "I'm guessing credits are not the problem."
The Professor smiled. "You are sharp, Mr. Mudd. I have more credits than I need. Asking you for credits would be a poor recognition of your worth."
Jake raised an eyebrow.
"What I mean," the Professor said, "is you look like a man of action. I'd like to make a bargain with you."
"What's that?"
"I have something coming up I'd like you to help me with."
"Explain."
"Vos and I have been in a friendly competition lately. One of the other players in Eon is bowing out soon. Vos thinks he has a right to the territory, but he doesn't. I put a good deal of resources into it over the years. Investments. Now it's time for me to pull in the return on those investments. Vos isn't honoring my claim. I need to convince him—one way or the other."
"Look," Jake said, standing up, "I've been away from Eon for a long time. I don't pretend to know what's been going on here. But the last thing I want is to get in the middle of a turf war."
"I'm not asking you to fight Vos. In fact, I want you to help him out. Return to him and tell him I turned you down because I heard you were already dealing with him. Tell him I said I'm going to crush him soon. That I am making a move which will ensure he has no chance at taking over Jayna's territory."
"Like I said, I have no desire to get in the middle of this."
"You do this for me, and I'll get you the license you want." The Professor pulled a small disc from his coat pocket. "Give this to Vos." He handed the disc to Jake. It was the size of his fingernail.
"What is it?" Jake asked.
"My entire plan for taking over Jayna's territory."
"Why the hell would you want Vos to have it?"
"He needs to believe you. Tell him you stole it from me to trade him for the license."
"I don't get it."
"He'll take the bait. He knows he can't win without something like that."
"Then he gives me the license and I'm gone. How does that work out for you?"
"Maybe he can get the license, maybe not. If he gives it to you, fine. Our deal is done. If not, I'll follow through with my end of the bargain and get it for you."
Jake looked at the disc and considered the Professor's offer. "Why give him your plans?"
The Professor chuckled. "Mr. Mudd, don't you see? Those plans will ensure Vos puts his resources, including his hired guns, exactly where I want them. I've been trying to think of a way to get these into his hands without him suspecting anything. Thanks to you, my rivalry with Vos will soon be a memory."
Jake sat quiet for a moment, considering the offer. He got up and paced.
"How do you know he'll buy it?"
The Professor raised his hand, extending his forefinger. "Ah, yes. Please excuse me for a minute." He walked back to the bookshelves and pulled a volume bound in blue cloth board. The shelf, three feet wide and six feet tall, opened, revealing a room behind it. The Professor went in.
Jake waited, turning the disc over with his fingers, still considering whether this was his ticket off Eon or one of the worst ideas he's ever heard of.
He still hadn't come down solidly one way or the other on the matter when the Professor returned carrying a large metal cylinder housed in wooden boxlike frame. Jake saw he was straining to carry the piece, which was as large as half his torso.
The Professor placed it on the green tile floor. "This—" He was out of breath.
Jake looked at the encased cylinder and shook his head.
"This," the Professor said, "is what is going to make Vos believe you."
What the hell is this guy talking about?
"Right," Jake said. "You'll need to make it a little clearer."
"I wasn't surprised when the cabby told me you were coming here."
"OK?"
"I keep an eye on Vos' place. So, I knew you went there earlier. He does the same with me."
"And?"
"And that's why this is going to convince him your story is true."
Jake held his hands out and shrugged, widening his eyes. Maybe getting shot at by Vos' nephew wasn't so bad after all.
"I took the liberty of arranging another cab for you," the Professor said. "It should arrive soon. I want you to take it. When you leave," he gestured to the framed cylinder, "this will detonate. It should blow the entire platform and a good part of this room."
What the—
"You're gonna blow up your own place to get Vos to take the bait?"
"Precisely."
Jake laughed. He couldn't help it.
The Professor stared at him, and didn't laugh.
"No offense, Professor, but you're one crazy son of a bitch." Jake saw the man's face sour. "I mean that in a good way. Nobody can say you aren't committed to your goals. Gotta admire that."
The Professor looked unamused. "Are you finished?"
Jake chuckled, then quieted himself. "Yeah, I guess so. OK."
"OK?"
"OK, I'll do it. In my experience, the most ridiculous plan somehow seems to work out. And this definitely qualifies."
"Very good. Remember, I'll be watching to see that you return to Vos."
Jake glanced at the books lining the wall at the side of the room. "You're gonna lose all those."
The Professor walked over to the shelves and pulled three books out at an angle, one from each of three shelves. As he pulled out the third one, each of the massive bookshelves rotated, hiding the books in the room behind the wall. Only a smooth metal surface remained where the books had been. The Professor turned to Jake and smiled. "I spent too many years searching for these to lose them… even to defeat Vos."
Jake put the disc in his pocket. "If Vos comes through with the license, don't expect to hear from me again."
"Agreed. And if he doesn't, I'll contact you. After this goes off," he glanced to the explosive cylinder, "coming back here will be too risky for a while. Don't worry, I can find you if you're in Eon."
"Agreed."
The lights in the ceiling dimmed for a second, then returned to their normal glow.
"I believe your cab has arrived, Mr. Mudd. Perhaps you could assist me in moving this near the door before you leave?"
"Right."
Jake grabbed one side of the crating around the cylinder and the Professor took hold of the other side. They carried it to the door and set it down beside it, then they shook hands.
"I thought you'd be boring," Jake said. "I was wrong." He grinned.
"Get the disc into Vos' hands. Then we'll both get what we want." He pressed a panel on the wall and the door opened.
Jake stepped outside and walked to the cab hovering at the edge of the large black platform.
CHAPTER 9
J ake grabbed the edge of the open back door to the sky cab and hopped in.
"Where to?" The cabbie glanced in the rear-view mirror.
"Down," Jake said, with more urgency in his voice than he probably should have used.
"You got it."
The driver spun the wheel left and the sky cab tipped away from the platform outside the Professor's place.
Jake glanced at the platform
then placed his hand on the back of the driver's seat. "I'm in a bit of a hurry."
"No problem."
The driver shifted the gear stick beside him and the nose of the car dove.
Jake flew back into his seat from the sudden drop. His stomach felt uneasy.
Boom!
A massive explosion erupted from inside the Professor's place. The force knocked the sky cab hard, causing it to dip. Jake felt the shockwave.
"What the hell!" the cabbie screamed, grappling with the wheel to get the car steady.
The sky above them lit up as the fireball from the explosion billowed out the side of the thirty-third floor of the tower, or what was left of it.
Jake looked out the cab window and saw giant slabs of the black platform from outside the Professor's place dropping toward the car.
"Look out!" He grabbed the driver's shoulder and pointed skyward.
The cabbie slammed the stick shift on the car and lead-footed the pedal. Jake's head smacked against the back window of the car, then the side one, as the driver flew the vehicle wildly to avoid the falling debris. Shattered glass rained down with the platform pieces. Large chunks of bent metal and green marble fell past them. A few pieces crashed into the car, hitting the rear of it. The car jolted sending Jake off his seat. His head bumped against the roof of the car.
The driver continued to steer the car into deep pitches and half rolls. "Hope you have your seatbelt on!" he said to Jake, who toppled around in the back seat.
Most of the falling chunks of the thirty-third floor missed them. The driver steadied the cab.
He's good, Jake thought.
The cabbie took the car farther away from the building, though the debris had stopped falling by then.
Jake saw papers flying around in the hot winds of the blast. Then he saw several burned books plummeting toward the ground. He looked out the now cracked side window at what remained of the Professor's place.