Hal Spacejock: Framed

by Simon Haynes

  Hal Spacejock: Framed

  (A Short Story)

  Copyright 2011 by Simon Haynes

  A straightforward cargo delivery takes a left turn when Hal Spacejock gets sidetracked. But with 200 shares in a worthless company on offer, who wouldn't step into a makeshift teleporter which has already claimed one victim?

  Hal and Clunk, stars of the Hal Spacejock comedy series, feature in this brand new 8000-word short story. 'Framed' slots into the series any time after Hal Spacejock Second Course, but can be read and enjoyed as a stand-alone.

  www.spacejock.com.au

  Kurt took up his position in front of the robot, while Hal took up his position behind a large rock twenty metres away. With shaking fingers, Kurt reached for the cap on Clunk's head. Meanwhile, Hal's fingers were in his ears and his eyes were screwed shut.

  "It's okay," said Kurt. "It's just a solar panel."

  "Attached to what?"

  "His brain, I think."

  "Oh wonderful," muttered Hal. "He'll be thinking and talking and arguing, and he still won't be able to do anything useful."

  Four Hal Spacejock novels have been published in Australia over the past six years, earning excellent reviews and gathering a small but dedicated worldwide following. Now all four titles are available in ebook for the first time.

  The author, Simon Haynes, is currently working on a new Hal Junior series AND Hal Spacejock book five, but he took time out from his hectic schedule to write Framed after a rash promise on Facebook: to finish the story off and publish it within 48 hours.

  Hal Spacejock muttered under his breath as he strode down the Volante's landing ramp. It wasn't even lunch time and the day was already a complete disaster. First the outrageous landing fees, then the sky-high fuel prices, and finally the sealer: a one-sided 'conversation' with their customer, who was insisting on door-to-door delivery. Of course, she'd never mentioned any such thing when booking the job, and Hal would have played the original conversation back to her if he'd been able to find it amongst all the pirated software and amusing film clips crammed into the flight computer.

  So he'd searched for a freight hauler to move a container of antique furniture halfway across the city. The first three companies had laughed in his face when he revealed his budget. The last guy had been more helpful, giving Hal the address of a trucking firm where the drivers ran cash jobs whenever the boss took her secretary to lunch.

  There was a rumble from the horizon, and Hal searched the sky for the departing spaceship. Instead he saw a line of dark clouds. Lightning flashed, and as the brewing storm approached Hal realised they'd be shifting their cargo in a heavy downpour. Perfect.

  The ramp moved underfoot as a squashy-faced robot emerged from the ship. Clunk was moving even more stiffly than usual, his back as straight as an engine brace and his expression pure vinegar.

  "Are you coming or what?" called Hal.

  Clunk used his middle finger on the keypad, punching a lengthy sequence of alternating twos and eights.

  "Take your time. No rush."

  Okay, so maybe the price of fuel on this overpriced planet wasn't Clunk's fault, but he should've checked the landing charges before setting down. After all, why have a co-pilot if you had to do everything yourself? Hal crossed his arms. In future he'd have to lay down the law.

  Clunk glanced through the porthole to make sure the lights were off, then started down the ramp. Every step of his big, flat feet was deliberate and forceful, and his lips were pressed together so hard it was a surprise his jaw didn't fall off.

  "Nice day, isn't it?" said Hal lightly. It had just dawned on him that Clunk was taking things badly. "Quite warmish."

  Clunk walked straight towards him, saying not a word, and Hal realised the robot was perfectly capable of running him down. As far as Clunk was concerned, the three laws were quaint relics from a gentler age.

  Hal backed away, then turned and hurried to the safety of the landing pad. Better to face a shedload of angry customers than a fiery old robot with a short fuse and fists like boulders.

  Once on the landing pad he turned to admire his ship. The Volante's vast bulk was disguised by her graceful lines, and he felt a surge of pride at the sight. Running freight didn't earn a whole lot of money, but at least they were doing it in style.

  Inspection complete, he glanced around the landing field to get his bearings. They'd landed in the freight section, right near the customs shed and a row of warehouses. In the opposite direction there was a low-lying passenger terminal, all chrome and glass and rows of uncomfortable seats. In between was the usual collection of street vendors, hawking everything from pastries to university degrees. Despite himself, Hal gravitated towards the colourful stalls. He had more degrees than wall space to hang them on, but he could always manage a slice of cake.

  "Where are you going?" asked Clunk.

  "Essential supplies."

  "Mr Spacejock, if you must organise these underhanded cash jobs during lunch hours, don't you think we should arrive at the freight company before lunch is over?"

  "There's loads of time. It's just round the corner." Hal eyed a display of Arts degrees. "Toilet tissue is pricey in these parts."

  "They're not worth the paper they're printed on."

  "These are fake too."

  The robot unbent a little as they moved between the stalls. He was never angry for long, either because he was essentially kind-hearted, or because his memory was so flaky he forgot why he'd steamed up in the first place. Then Hal spotted a cheap solar-powered fan, and he bought it as a peace offering. "Here. Something to keep you cool."

  Clunk eyed the toy dubiously, flicking the switch on and off. Inspection complete, he nodded his thanks and stashed the fan in a chest compartment. Hal had seen odds and ends going into that compartment from day one, but he rarely saw anything coming out. He suspected they all dropped down to the robot's legs, adding to his ballast.

  They walked past a display of fresh fruit, unlocked commsets and body piercings, and then Hal came to a sudden halt. An elderly man with a shock of grey hair was standing next to a console bulging with wires and electronics. Nearby, a young man in a red skivvy sat on a bar stool, reading a book, and behind them stood an unpainted door frame.

  "I know that guy!" exclaimed Hal. "Clunk, you remember. He tried to flog us shares in a dodgy teleporter company."

  "That's not how it was," said Clunk. "As I recall, you were about to give him all your money until I exposed his little trick."

  "Something like that, yeah."

  The fake scientist had been running a neat scam involving two wooden cupboards, some impressive-looking electronics and a taciturn young man pressed into service as a helper. The young man entered the first cupboard, the scientist pulled a lever, and after some tame pyrotechnics the same young man would emerge from the second wardrobe, apparently teleported across.

  At that point the scientist would offer shares in his company, with future earnings estimated in the billions. Unfortunately for the elderly scientist, Clunk noticed a slight problem with his demonstration: The young man who entered the first cupboard had a book under his arm. The young man who emerged from the second cupboard, with the same hairstyle and dressed in the same clothes, also had a book. However, it it was a different title.

  The young men were identical twins, and the scientist was a conman.

  This time there were no cupboards, just the metal door frame, but the young man and the electronics were one and the same. Wise to the trick, Hal was about to move on when the elderly scientist spotted him. He peered through his thick glasses but obviously didn't recognise him. "Sir, you are perhaps interested in a little demonstration?"

  "No thanks," said Hal. "We gave at the off
ice."

  "I'm sorry, what was this?"

  There was a rumble from the horizon, and Hal realised the rain would be arriving soon. "You're wasting your time. I saw through this trick when it was two cupboards and a pair of twin brothers. Hans and … what was the other one?"

  A shadow passed over the old man's face. "Kurt. My other son was Kurt."

  "Was?"

  "The first test subject in my first real experiment. It was perfect how it worked, but he never came back."

  "What did you do, lose the key to the second cupboard?"

  "Cupboards … that was an early model. We made good with the venture capitalist people, and —"

  "And upgraded to a door frame. Neat." Hal glanced around. "Where's the rest of it?"

  The scientist pointed across the landing field, where a second frame was leaning against a refuelling cluster. Alongside was a small box studded with rows of flashing lights, connected to the frame with a thick grey cable. Hal snorted. So this was the new scam! The other twin must have packed it in, and whoever the scientist had roped in to replace him wasn't a perfect match. So, he'd put the second 'teleporter booth' two hundred metres away.

  "Okay, so how does it work this time?" demanded Hal. "Smoke machine? Mirrors?"

  "Trade secret," said the scientist. "It is only short distances, but … how do you say it? My design improves in bounds and leaps."

  There was a flash of lightning and a rumble of thunder.

  "We'd better be going," said Clunk. "The storm …"

  "Just a minute." Hal pointed at the door frame. "Are you telling me you can teleport something through this? Push it in one door so it comes out the other? It really works?"

  "Correct."

  "It's not a scam?"

  "But of course not."

  "All right, show me."

  "Alas, Hans will not do it. Not after Kurt."

  "So Kurt …"

  "He went through but did not come out. A small glitch, easily corrected."

  "Tell that to Kurt," murmured Clunk.

  Hal gestured at the frame. "Why didn't you go after him?"

  "I have to make with the lever pulling. You understand?"

  "Plus a good general never leads from the front," remarked Clunk.

  "So what I was thinking …"

  "Yes?"

  The scientist gave Hal a sidelong glance. "What I was thinking was maybe a reward. One hundred shares in my teleporter company for the brave soul who finds my son."

  "A hundred? Really?"

  "Mr Spacejock!" protested Clunk. "You can't risk your life for a hundred shares in a worthless company!"

  "You're right, it's a lousy offer." Hal rubbed his chin. "Make it two hundred and you have a deal."

  "My good sir, even Hans und Kurt only have fifty each."

  "That's my price. Take it or leave it."

  "Done," said the scientist.

  Clunk sighed as the men sealed their deal with a handshake.

  "Don't worry," murmured Hal in an aside. "This thing is never going to work."

  Two minutes later everything was set. Hal stood before the metal door frame, feeling like a complete goose. Despite the old guy's confidence, he wasn't convinced the so-called teleporter would move him any further than his first step through the door. Meanwhile, Clunk was leaning against the frame, rolling his eyes, shaking his head and tutting to himself. Even the weather joined in, mocking them with fat raindrops and ominous thunder. Hans had legged it for the safety of the passenger terminal, and traders were scurrying around packing up their wares. The scientist was still tweaking his electronics, oblivious to the storm.

  "Are you ready yet?" shouted Hal.

  The scientist turned a large dial, framed the distant door frame with his fingers, then turned the dial a little more. "Now we are ready. When the field appears, step through without delay."

  "Field?" Hal pictured a nice meadow with butterflies.

  "Stand by!" shouted the scientist.

  There was a loud fizz, and a milky white ball appeared in the centre of the door frame. It glowed softly, shivering whenever a raindrop broke the surface. The scientist pulled a lever and … Sproinnggg! The ball of light spread out to fill the frame, corner to corner.

  "Into the field!" shouted the scientist. "Quick! It cannot last!"

  Hal glanced at the second frame, two hundred metres away, and saw an identical white field. Then he looked at Clunk, who was slowly shaking his head.

  The next thing Hal knew there was a searing flash behind him, and suddenly he was flying towards the milky white field. He went through dead centre, arms outstretched, while a huge thunderclap almost knocked him senseless. Something grabbed his ankle, but he was flying much too fast to be stopped and whatever it was came along for the ride.

  Hal got a whirling view of grey clouds, leaves and dirt before he landed on all fours, rolled head over heels and ended up on his feet. He got another impression then: a tall, muscle-bound stranger in a fur loincloth, one arm drawn back to strike.

  Barely had he taken this in when the stranger swung at him, knocking him flat on his back with a makeshift club. Hal heard a scuffle as he drifted in and out of consciousness, and then everything went dark.

  *

  "I said I was sorry, didn't I?"

  "Your actions were most impolite. Indeed, you might have killed him."

  Hal's head was pounding, but he still recognised Clunk's voice. "I'm not dead. I'm all right."

  "You're concussed, Mr Spacejock."

  "It'll take more than a bump to put me down."

  "It was more than a bump. You stopped a tree trunk with your head."

  Hal sat up. There were three of them around the smouldering camp fire: himself, Clunk, who for some reason was wearing a fur hat, and the branch-wielding maniac. Hal eyed the stranger, who refused to meet his gaze. "Who's the caveman?"

  "Kurt."

  "Really? We found him?" Despite the blinding headache, numb extremities and double vision, Hal's spirits rose. Two hundred shares, thank you very much! Now all they had to do was get back.

  "He's safe and sound." Clunk sighed. "Unfortunately we can't get back."

  Kurt threw a branch on the fire. "I told the old buffer to keep it under eleven, but would he listen? Now we're all trapped."

  "We're never trapped," said Hal. "Clunk can whistle up the Volante and organise a search party."

  "I'm afraid that's impossible, Mr Spacejock. My communications circuits were damaged by the lightning strike."

  Hal remembered the vivid flash. "Is that what hit me?"

  "That was the first blow, yes." Clunk gave Kurt a sideways frown. "Mr, er, Kurt, has been living off the land for the past two months. According to him, this clearing is surrounded by dense forest in every direction, although he did find a settlement a few kilometres to the East."

  "Great! We'll hire a car and find out way home."

  There was a lengthy silence. Clearly, neither Kurt nor Clunk wanted to share the bad news.

  "Go on, out with it."

  "The settlement …" began Kurt. "It's not safe."

  "Why not?"

  Kurt threw a fresh log on the fire, and the whirling sparks cast his face in stark relief. "As a child I spent long hours in the woods around my home, living rough and surviving on nature's bounty."

  "Oh yeah, I like those too. Bit small though."

  "Using these skills, I built a shelter and constructed simple but effective weapons."

  Hal rubbed his forehead.

  "During my time in this place I've hunted and searched, searched and hunted. Slowly I built a picture of my surroundings, drawing crude maps with charcoal on the skins of small animals."

  "Didn't they wriggle?"

  Kurt ignored the interruption. "Then, one night, when the moon was full and the hunt was good, I followed my prey to an unexplored area to the East of this place. Was there a ravine I might plunge into? Was there a swift but deadly river ready to carry me to my doom? Was there a deadly
creature on my trail, stalking me just as I pursued my own quarry?"

  "Well? Was there?" asked Hal, leaning closer.

  "Actually, no. The going was easy."

  Hal glanced at Clunk. Kurt had obviously read one too many fantasy novels, and before long he'd be showing off his rings of power and a wooden axe with an unpronounceable name. Stick anyone in a forest for a couple of months and they were bound to go round the twist, and Kurt had really snapped. Assuming they could get him back to civilisation, the best he could hope for was a peaceful loony bin with an endless supply of world-building materials.

  "But I did find a settlement."

  "Yeah, Clunk said that about half an hour ago. You could have showed me the thing by now."

  "I was drawn by a huge fire and the sound of drums. They were very loud, shaking the ground underfoot."

  "Teenagers," muttered Hal, rolling his eyes. "Where are the parents? That's what I want to know."

  "These were not wayward youths, Spacejock. There was a large crowd around the fire, and they carried many weapons. As I watched they took one of their own and bound him hand and foot."

  "Go on."

  "They dragged the prisoner between the huts. The drumbeats grew ever more intense, then … Whoosh! Kerthunk! Blblblbl!" Kurt waggled his tongue and rolled his eyes.

  "They all tickled him?"

  "Far worse. When I could bear to look, generous portions of meat were roasting on the fire and these evil people were slaking their thirst from rough-hewn mugs of wood."

  "And then you went down there and asked if they had a commset. Right?"

  Kurt looked at Hal as if he were mad, which Hal found rather insulting.

  "So you chickened out."

  "The drums thudded once more, and even as I watched the insatiable crowd selected another of their number."

  "Oh, that's all right then. After a few more snacks there'll be one left standing, and you can put him away with your tree trunk."

  "Mock all you like. I know what I saw, and I understand danger."

  Hal turned to Clunk. "Did you get all that?"