by Aaron Hubble
Malone squinted, studying the picture. It wasn’t the same boy the woman had been holding. This one was standing on top of a large rock, a red backpack slung over his shoulders. He held a smaller rock toward the camera.
Abram squatted, his knees popping and began picking up the scattered medical supplies and tossing them in the box.
Tearing his eyes away from the pictures that raised so many question, Malone bent and helped the old pilot.
“Trouble in paradise,” Abram said as he worked.
“Paradise is definitely lost,” Malone mumbled.
The last thing he wanted to do was discuss his marital problems with a stranger he didn’t yet trust, but the captive nature of the situation didn’t give him many options if Abram wanted to go there.
“I suppose you heard all of that.”
Abram grunted. “Pretty hard not to. The Olibert isn’t exactly a big ship.”
“Sorry.” Malone felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment. He was a private person and the fact that Abram had heard their marital woes made him highly uncomfortable. If there had been a quick escape route, an eject button, Malone would have mashed it right then.
They remained silent until all of the supplies were put away. Abram snapped the lid closed and put the box back into the cabinet. He pulled the bottle of Amargosan whiskey out of the cabinet and held it up in front of Malone.
“Care for another drink? I try not to drink alone.” He laughed. “Okay. That’s a lie. That’s the only time I drink.”
“How are you still upright? You’ve had a drink in your hand more than you haven’t so far on this trip.” Malone laughed and shook his head, eyes widening. “You know what. Make mine a double.”
Abram poured two glasses and motioned Malone to follow him into the cockpit.
They sipped their drinks in the quiet of the ship. The dark of space stretched out in front of him. It seemed so empty, but somewhere out there his girls were scared and alone.
“Can I give you some advice?” Abram said propping his feet up on the panel in front of him.
“Do I have a choice?”
“Not really. It’s still my ship even if you did come aboard by gunpoint.”
“I’m sorry about that by the way.”
Abram grinned, took another sip of the whiskey and waved him off. “Ah, hell, I figure the day hasn’t really started unless you’ve been held up at gunpoint.”
Malone grunted and tilted his glass. The liquor burned his throat. Some of the tension of the fight with Luana melted away.
“I don’t know you,” Abram said wrapping his hands around the glass and staring out the forward window. “But here’s what I can see. You need that woman at your side. What you’re trying to accomplish, it’s literally suicide. Stealing something back from the EC is, well, like I said, suicide. So here’s my advice. You do whatever it takes to mend things with that lady. Whatever is going on between you two is not going to help you get your girls back. I know what it’s like to lose something. Lose everything, really. Some by my own choice and some because fate just took it from me.”
Still primed from the fight with Luana, Malone became immediately defensive. The chords stood out on his neck as he steeled himself for another argument. “You don’t get—”
Abram held up a hand and the pain in his blue eyes stopped Malone. “My ship, remember. You’re going to listen to what I have to say and then you can do with it what you want.”
The old pilot took another long drink, draining the glass and set it on the console. “I lost a son to a freak accident, a wife to my drinking. A couple of years ago, a second son sacrificed himself to keep me alive.”
His steely eyes flared with intensity. “Don’t say I don’t know about loss or what you’re going through. Right now, on this ship in the middle of empty space, you have the opportunity to fix what’s been broken. Work out your issues and make it right. Or don’t. It’s no skin off my nose. My life will go on, but I’d hate for yours to fall apart. You think it’s bad now, but you need to face the possibility that you won’t get your girls back. If that happens, it will be much easier to manage if you have a woman who loves you at your side. Take it from me.”
Abram stopped talking and turned his face toward the window. Malone looked into the glass and waited for the pilot to say something more, but he seemed to be done talking.
Malone sat silently listening to the hum of the engines. His world had crashed in on him and he was struggling to hold it up. Was there a way to get it all back?
He prayed there was because the weight threatened to destroy him.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Applying the term ‘space station’ to Retem was being kind. It appeared that whoever built the station had simply taken anything they could find and welded it together to create the hulking and mismatched structure that floated above the desolate desert planet. Simply put, this was the place people went when they didn’t want anyone to know where they were.
Luana leaned forward in the co-pilot’s chair and stared out the window. “You’re actually going to make me set foot on that death trap? It’s just cobbled together junk.”
Abram wore a feigned look of hurt. “Careful. You’re talking about my home away from home. What Retem lacks in pretty, she makes up for in character.”
“You think Ekene and his ship are still here?”
Abram shrugged. “Hard to tell. I hope so. It would be a shame to leave Retem without getting into a scrape.” The pilot looked wistful for a moment. “Had some good ones here.”
Malone watched the station grow larger in the forward window. He could discern pieces of several old freighters interspersed with heavy duty cargo containers and a one ancient looking tanker with the faded words “Danger Toxic Material” painted on the side.
“What if they’ve already left?” Luana asked.
Abrams hands flashed over several controls adjusting the attitude of the ship. “Then Retem is still the best place to be. Somehow, beyond all explanation, my people are flush with information. For the right price, you should be able to find out anything you want.”
Malone arched an eyebrow. “Your people?”
“I didn’t tell you?”
“No.”
“I’m kind of a big deal here. Sort of the unofficial mayor of Retem.”
“Really?” Malone asked, skeptical.
“Well, it’s not official, but, yeah.”
Malone shook his head and stared out the window as they made their approach to the station. If Abram held any sway on the station, it could come in handy, but Malone wasn’t holding his breath. The pilot might believe he was important on Retem, but Malone wouldn’t be surprised if it was all concocted in his addled brain.
Abram guided the Olibert in. A gentle bump and the snap of docking clamps told them they’d docked successfully. There was a faint hiss of equalizing pressure in the airlock. Abram reached under the control panel in front of him and pulled out an ancient pistol. He checked the magazine and then strapped a holster around his waist.
“You still have those bang-bangs?” he said to Luana.
She patted her side. “Right here, and Malone has the other.”
“Good. You don’t step foot on Retem without packing heat.” He finished with the pistol and then looked at them. “The first rule of Retem Station is if you feel threatened, shoot first because if you don’t, you’re dead. There’s a security presence on the station, but they’re worthless. These,” he patted the pistol. “Are the only real law on Retem.”
“I thought you said you were the mayor of this place?”
Abram exited the cockpit. “Even a mayor has his detractors.”
They followed Abram through the airlock and into the station. Malone wrinkled his nose as they entered the cramped hallway. It was dirty, the walls pitted and dented. It smelled of hydraulic fluid mixed with human excrement.
“Ah, the unmistakable smell of desperation and felonious activity,” Abram said. He smil
ed and hooked his thumbs in his belt. “I love this place.” He inhaled deeply. “I need to take care of some political dealings and get some minor repairs scheduled for the Olibert. I’d suggest you two start out in Fancy’s. It’s the bar in the center of the station. Do some asking around and you’ll find the answers you need. Tell Fancy I said hi. Wait,” Abram looked up at the low ceiling, in thought for a moment. “Yeah. She’s probably forgotten about that. Go ahead and tell her I’ll try and get in to see her before we leave.”
Malone pulled his hand held out of his pocket and consulted the time. “When should we meet back here?”
“Give me three hours to take care of my business and let’s meet at the steak house on the rim of the station. We’ll compare notes and plan the next move in our glorious overthrow of the Europa Collective.”
“You mean get our daughters back, right?” Luana said.
“That too. Remember what I said.” He patted the holster at his side.
“Shoot first.” Luana smiled.
Abram’s face split into a smile and he pointed at her with his finger and thumb cocked like a gun. “Right.”
He turned and walked down the hallway. They watched him disappear around a corner and then stood in awkward silence for a moment. They hadn’t talked since the confrontation yesterday. With no place to hide from each other, they’d simply existed in proximity to each other. The tension in the ship had been almost palpable.
Malone ran his hand through his hair. “Look, yesterday was a terrible day and I know some of the stuff we said to each other, at least some of the stuff I said, came out of fear. It was wrong and I’m sorry.”
Luana’s face was a mask and betrayed no emotion. “Let’s just get through this day and get some information. As much as we both wish differently, we’re a team. Getting the girls back requires us to work together. We should get to the bar.”
She walked past him in the direction Abram had indicated. Malone put his hands on his hips and stared at the deck plating with its uneven welds. Apparently, his words had cut deeper than he thought, and Malone had no idea how to fix the wounds. He massaged his forehead and closed his eyes.
Why had he expected anything different? It had been this way for as long as he could remember. Their relationship had always run red hot. Passionate one day, at each other’s throats the next.
They’d met in a bar on another world. She’d worked there, and he’d been a drunk mine worker trying to earn enough money to get off that hell hole. They’d flirted, he’d asked her out. She’d turned him down numerous times until she made a deal with him. If he could leave the bar one night without getting drunk, she’d go out with him.
He had, and she did. The relationship went fast.
The wedding happened three months later, but there was always the fighting. Always the same argument. He thought she was hiding something, she thought he didn’t care. Around and around they went.
He let go of the frustrated breath and plunged into the crowd after her. He tried to stay alert for any signs of danger and hoped his nervousness wasn’t showing through. He assumed the type of people on Retem were like dogs, who could smell fear and see someone like Malone coming from a parsec away.
He caught up with Luana as she was entering the bar. A brightly lit sign blinked the name Fancy’s above the door. Pictures of barely dressed young women flashed past as well as images of various drinks and people having a good time.
Fancy’s was located on the outer edge of a large open atrium. The holds of two freighters had been stacked on top of each other allowing for a higher ceiling than the rest of the station. A spiral staircase went up the middle of the atrium and branched out to several balconies leading to private rooms. Malone could only imagine what went on behind those doors.
A restaurant serving Earth Asian cuisine, a weapons shop, and a jewelry broker shared the main floor with Fancy’s Bar.
The bar wasn’t quite what he’d imagined. He’d expected a small, hole-in-the-wall type of establishment. Instead, an expansive room spread out in front of him. To his left, a couple, obviously drunk, danced or rather fell over each other to the beat of thumping techno music.
A massive, circular bar sat in the middle of the room. The top glowed a dull blue and several men and a woman moved busily behind the bar serving the liquor that probably kept the space station afloat. An endless variety of liquor bottles were stacked in a tiered set of shelves that wrapped all the way around the bar.
The smell of alcohol, vomit, and unwashed bodies assaulted his nose as he stepped through the door. He was unsure if it was an upgrade over the smell in the corridor.
The pulse of music vibrated through the floor and into his feet. High above the bar floor several cages were suspended from the ceiling and scantily clad woman gyrated to the music. With effort, he tore his eyes away and focused on the people around him.
It was a motley collection of men and women in all manner of dress and level of intoxication. He was surprised to see not a few people in business suits, no doubt looking for someone to hire for a job they were unwilling to complete themselves.
Most of the patrons sat at badly worn tables, huddled over drinks.
He waded through the crowd as Luana wove her way to the bar. Malone leaned his hip against the bar and then looked out into the crowd.
After several minutes during which Malone was sure the music was going to rupture his ear drums, a middle aged woman with a shaved head, except for a long pony tail of purple and red, moved to wipe the counter in front of them.
“What’s your poison tonight?” she said.
“What do you suggest?” Malone asked.
“Listen, pal, I don’t have time to be your personal waitress telling you the specials of the day. You either know what you want or you get the hell out of here. Now, one more time, what are you drinking?”
Luana placed a several large bills on the counter. Malone’s eyes got wide. Where had she gotten money like that? More mysteries.
“Are you Fancy?”
“For that type of money I am.”
“I want a double of your best whiskey and I need you to point me to the guy in this bar who has the most information on Europa Collective activity and would be willing to give it up with a little encouragement,” Luana said.
The bartender arched her eyebrow and quickly pulled the bills off the counter and stuffed them into the breast pocket of her leather vest. She pulled a bottle off the top shelf and poured Luana a glass of whiskey. She looked at Malone.
“Just a beer for me.”
Fancy set a mug in front of him and leaned forward on the bar. “You’ll want to talk to Yago. He’s over in the corner.”
Malone looked in the direction the bartender had indicated. A small man with dark hair and a large mustache sat with his chair propped against the wall.
“He just came in and hasn’t had much time to get into the gin yet. That’s good for you because once he does, he’ll start into his conspiracy theories about the Collective, the corporations, and by the end of the night, he’s spouting off about aliens.”
Luana slid another bill across the bar. “Give me a glass of gin.”
The bar owner poured a glass and Luana nodded to her. “Our thanks.”
Malone picked up his beer. “Oh, Abram Ginnis says hi.”
The bartender’s face pinched in anger. She slammed the bottle down on the bar and pointed at Malone. “You tell that crazy SOB that if I ever see him in this bar again, I will personally remove his most sensitive organs and force feed them to him until he chokes.”
Malone backed away from the bar quickly, leaving Fancy muttering to herself. “Right. You have a good night.”
Malone led the way through the mass of humanity toward Yago. The slight man wore a frayed gray suit and sat at a table with his feet propped up and a drink in hand. His sharp features and extremely pale complexion reminded Malone of a rodent.
Malone stopped in front of him and cleared his throat.
The little man looked up.
“May we join you?” Malone asked.
The man looked him over for several long seconds. Malone got the sense Yago was trying to decide whether he owed them money or if they were someone he pissed off but couldn’t remember. His eyes flicked to the doorway looking for an escape route.
“I don’t feel much like company tonight,” the man said.
Luana set the glass of gin on the table and then Malone watched her lean forward so that the front of her shirt gaped open. Yago’s eyes moved from the glass to Luana and traveled up and down her curves. Malone felt the blood rise in his face, but forced himself to remain calm.
The bartender had specifically pointed this man out as someone who could help and the last thing he wanted to do was put things on the wrong foot. He looked at Luana and saw a small, suggestive smile play across her face. This was all a show and he was surprised at how good she was. She slid the gin toward the man.
“Fancy said you were the man to talk to for information.”
Yago eyed the glass and then looked back at Luana. “Gin’s a nice start, but information’s kind of expensive on Retem.”
“We can pay,” Luana said and flashed him a few bills.
He grunted and then pulled his feet off the table. He accepted the glass and gestured to the two empty chairs opposite him. They sat down and Yago took a big drink of the gin, smacking his lips.
“So, information. What type of information can’t you live without?”
“We’re looking for someone. Two someones, to be exact,” Malone said.
Luana nodded. “The Collective kidnapped our daughters. Ely Ekene, to be more specific.”
Yago swirled his gin. “You really should keep better track of the things that are important to you. It gets costly when you need to get information from places like this.”
Malone crossed his arms. “Is Ekene still here or have they passed through? If they did, we need to know where they went. You wouldn’t happen to have that kind of information, would you?”
“Depends.”