To Infinity

by Darren Humphries

  “And you used to live here?” Keely asked as they exited the ship having watched the orientation information one last time.

  “I spent some time here,” Haynes replied, shrugging deeper into his nondescript raincoat and looking around them suspiciously. The docking area was run by the Spacing Guild and so was probably the safest place on the colony asteroid (the largest and only one that hadn’t been mined in the whole field), but that gave him no comfort, “but I wouldn’t call it living.”

  As they emerged out into the interior of the cavernous reception area, Keely commented, “When I left Hochnar to see the sights of the galaxy I had rather hoped that some of them would be worth seeing.”

  The asteroid, largest though it had been, had long since run out of space. Buildings crowded around every walkway, shouldering others out of the way in the search for the visitors’ credits. Hotels, restaurants, shops and entertainment venues were jammed together, each trying to use its limited space to make its presence felt. Neon signs were popular, the colours clashing and blinking on and off with no co-ordination.

  “What are you talking about?” Haynes challenged. “This place is unique.”

  “Yeah because the rest of the galaxy has some semblance of taste,” Lyssa decided.

  “Can you see an optician’s?” Keely asked. “I think I’m suffering third degree retina burns.”

  “I know it’s a bit rough around the edges,” Haynes admitted, “but...”

  “But what?”

  “I was just trying to think of something good to say about it, but I’ve come up blank. Come on,” he set off confidently into the interior.

  Away from the main tourist areas around the docking area (it didn’t really qualify as a spaceport since visiting ships were saved the need for planetfall) the caverns became progressively smaller and even more packed. Here, living quarters were squeezed into any available space no matter what shape or how many ladders had to be climbed to reach it. The establishments in these back caverns offered services that were more swimming upstream than mainstream, the kind that you did not advertise in neon lights. Everywhere was jammed with people and walking was often more a case of just managing to get into the right flow of human traffic.

  Keely stared at it all in wide-eyed wonder as she was pushed along. There were few enough tourists in the parts of the asteroid they were travelling. She realised this from their rough working clothes, their no-nonsense gait and the fact that no-one was staring around themselves in wide-eyed wonder.

  Haynes steered them through it all with surety and confidence. His attitude was much like that of all the other residents, just a man going about his, probably less than lawful, business. Nobody bothered them.

  “Here we are,” he said finally, stopping outside a run-down shack crowbarred in between a shop that promised to provide high-quality food whilst doing your laundry at the same time and the rough rock of the cavern’s curving wall. It was, at least, at ground level.

  On the door, in paint that was half peeled off and had rusted over, a sign announced that this was the home of BIOFORM PLAYTHINGS GALACTIC (Inc).

  “You just know all the best people don’t you?” Lyssa quipped slyly.

  “You might be surprised.” Haynes reached up and pulled the bell cord. The handle came straight off in his hand, followed by the cord. There was a note attached. “The bell’s broken please don’t pull it,” he read.

  Keely stifled a giggle.

  Haynes knocked on the door with the side of his fist, but it swung open at the first contact.

  “That doesn’t look good,” Keely commented.

  “Could just be that there’s nothing worth stealing,” Lyssa supposed.

  Haynes ignored them both and went inside. The interior was much cleaner and tidier than the outside appearance might have suggested, but that wasn’t immediately obvious because it was so gloomy. The only light came in through the gaps where the walls didn’t quite match the shape of the cavern wall.

  “Maybe nobody’s home,” Keely suggested, following him tentatively inside.

  Lyssa reluctantly sidled in after them “Yeah, we can come back after we’ve seen the sights,” she paused, “or in half an hour, whichever is the longer.”

  “All right, all right I’m here! I’m coming for galaxy’s sake!” a voice came from the gloom, yelling loudly. “What’s all the fuss? There’s no bloody need for all that shouting you know!”

  “Who’s shouting?” Keely whispered, sharing a puzzled glance with Lyssa. “Apart from him?”

  “You are, damn it!” A small figure emerged from the shadows. The owner of the voice was old, wizened and suffused with an energy that his small frame could barely contain. “That’s who!”

  “But I’m not...”

  “You can argue with me if you like, but just stop shouting!!” the little man roared, shaking inside his white lab coat.

  Haynes reached out swiftly and yanked a cord at the man’s neck. Two earpieces detached themselves from his ears.

  “Who’s shouting now?” Haynes asked.

  “Ah, right,” the old man’s ire moderated a little, “I sometimes forget I’m wearing those.”

  “What are they?” Keely whispered to Lyssa.

  “Sound enhancers,” the old man told her sharply. He grinned at her surprise. “There’s nothing wrong with these ears girlie. Lots of other things don’t work, but my ears are fine. I use these,” he indicated the dangling earpieces, “when I’m working on some of the really delicate stuff. Now then,” he turned his attention back to Haynes, “have you got those batteries I sent you out for?”

  “Professor, that was fifteen years ago,” Haynes reminded him.

  “Well, been taking your time about it then haven’t you?” the old man protested.

  “I’ve done a few things....”

  “Now wait a minute there,” the Professor stepped to one side so that he could see past Haynes to where Lyssa was standing. “Oh my, what a sight, if I could see, that is.” He bustled off into the dark and suddenly everyone was blinded by a glare so white it was almost atomic. “Sorry about that, sorry.” There was some fumbling and stumbling and then the lights dimmed down to a more bearable level.

  The Professor reappeared, screwing a pair of glasses down onto the bridge of his nose with some force. The lenses were thick and magnified his eyes until they appeared four times too big for his face. “Now, now then,” he was muttering to himself. Fixing his overlarge gaze on Lyssa, he beckoned her towards him, “Come on then, come here and let’s have a closer look at you then. Don’t worry, I don’t bite. Haven’t got my own teeth you see and these ones hurt.”

  Lyssa looked questioningly at Haynes who shrugged non-commitally.

  “Well come on girl. I may have all my life ahead of me, but as you can see that doesn’t give us too long.”

  Lyssa stepped gingerly forward and the Professor leaned towards her, peering through the glasses and getting more excited.

  “Oh yes, oh yes, just as I thought,” he rambled on to himself, “such a face, such a bone structure, perfect skin, fine colouration and such clean, well-defined features.”

  “Thank you,” Lyssa was taken aback by his enthusiasm, but flattered at the same time. “You, erm, look nice as well.”

  The Professor whirled around to face Haynes, almost losing the glasses from his nose as he did so. “Oh you’ve got to let me have her. You have to.”

  “Not mine to give,” Haynes informed him.

  “Really?” the little man frowned in puzzlement.

  “Really,” Haynes confirmed.

  “Well then young woman it seems that I must deal with you directly,” the Professor decided effusively, muttering to himself “which is most unusual.”

  “I’m not for sale,” Lyssa told him quite firmly.

  “Oh everyone’s for sale,” he waved aside her objection with flapping hands. “It’s only a matter of the price. And anyway, it’s not you that I need precisely,” he added, “
but rather your image.”

  “My image?” Lyssa was wrongfooted. “You just want my picture?”

  “Picture? Pah!” the Professor bellowed derisively. “A scanning laser will perfectly model every dimension from every angle. High definition computer imaging will map every inch of skin, every colour change, every blemish. Cat scans and MRIs will mark out every pore, every gland, every tiny body function. Finally, motion capture cameras will catch, copy and retain every movement you make, every gesture, every expression, every blink, wink and wrinkle. Pictures? Pah!”

  “But why?”

  “You’ll make us rich,” the Professor declared. “With the way you look and my technology we will make millions.”

  “I like the sound of millions,” Lyssa admitted.

  “I shouldn’t be too quick to make the deal,” Haynes warned conversationally.

  “Why not?” Keely asked. “It’s just fancy pictures.”

  “How will you make us rich?” Lyssa queried. “It’s not like I’m a galactic glamour model or anything.” She looked around the workshop, looking for clues. “What is it that you make here?”

  “Leisure automatons,” the Professor revealed proudly.

  “Leisure whatatons?” Lyssa frowned.

  “Recreational androids,” the Professor clarified.

  “Recreational?”

  “Sex robots!” Keely translated loudly, brandishing a slightly dog-eared brochure she had found behind a counter.

  “Sex robots?” Lyssa seemed to still find it hard to come to terms with the concept until... “Ewwwww! Sex robots?”

  “Yes, if you must use the term,” the little man said in an offended tone, “but only of the very highest quality. None of those mass-produced rubberised things here.”

  The more Lyssa thought about it, the more scandalised she became, “And you wanted it to look like me!”

  “Of course. You would be our most popular model. What man wouldn’t want his own you, except a more biddable, pliable you? Will you do it?”

  “By all that’s good, holy or legal in this galaxy no,” she refused, adding, “and once again, ewwww.”

  “Professor,” Haynes interrupted brusquely, his patience running out, “fun though it has been to see my friend here discomfited, I’ve come here for some information. Where’s Caspian?”

  “Caspian?” the Professor queried.

  “Yes, Caspian,” Haynes repeated, exasperated, “the computer whizz, the kid who’s so good at setting up invisible bank accounts and laundering money through them. Your son.”

  “Oh him, he left a while ago,” the Professor told him, “a long time ago.”

  “I know that,” Haynes continued to press the little man. “The official records show that he was caught and sentenced to life on Srindar Djem. I have reason to know that this is not true. So where is he?”

  “I don’t know,” the Professor told him.

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “No I really don’t know,” the Professor insisted. “He moves around so much and I don’t have time to read the society feeds to keep up with him.”

  “Society feeds?”

  The Professor nodded emphatically, “Yes. He calls himself Abner Millward now.”

  “Abner Millward the playboy adventurer?” Lyssa interrupted. “Abner Millward the richest man in three spiral arms? That Abner Millward?”

  The Professor shrugged, “Probably. I told you I don’t have time to read those feeds. All I know is he never phones, never writes.”

  Haynes turned to Lyssa, “Tell me about this Abner Millward.”

  “He appeared about two years ago, fabulously rich, wonderfully wealthy and comfortably well-off. He’s seen in all the right places with all the right people. What do you know about him?”

  “He owes me money.”

  “Oh I hardly think so,” she demurred. “I mean he’d pay. Did I not mention how rich he is?”

  “It’s a lot of money.”

  “Professor,” Keely asked sidling up beside the little man, “you haven’t asked me.”

  “What?” the old man was nonplussed.

  “You haven’t asked me,” she repeated and then waited expectantly.

  “Asked you what?”

  “You haven’t asked if you could use my image,” she clarified for him.

  “What for?”

  “Oooh, men!” was all that she could say through her gritted teeth and she stormed off.

  “You know, Professor I find it hard to believe that Caspian would just leave you like this,” he waved a hand at the shabby interior.

  “Why would I want to go with him to lie on sandy beaches drinking cocktails served by naked handmaidens when my work is here?” the Professor demanded.

  “I can’t imagine,” Lyssa said dryly.

  “But to leave you all alone,” Haynes objected.

  “Perhaps not quite alone.” The new voice came from the doorway. An impossibly handsome young man dressed in rather less handsome overalls walked into the room. He was followed by two other equally good-looking companions who were dressed in the same fashion. Haynes realised that they were trying to blend in with the general populace. It was a wasted effort because looks like theirs were going to make them stand out anywhere that wasn’t running the Mr Galaxy contest. All three of them were carrying long blades in the confident manner of someone who knows how to use them.

  “Who are you?” the Professor demanded.

  “We have been watching over you,” the leader of the three newcomers replied, “like guardian angels.”

  “Only with bigger knives,” Haynes commented.

  “Consider us a gift from your son,” the man said, ignoring the comment.

  “For himself, you mean,” Haynes contradicted him. “He knew I’d come looking for him, so he left you to keep a watch for me.”

  “Also true,” the man agreed approvingly.

  “And the blades are for?” Haynes prompted.

  “To hold you here, pending instructions on your ultimate disposition.”

  “What’s that in galactic?” Lyssa whispered.

  “Until they’re told whether to kill us or not,” Haynes translated.

  “If I ask another question that has an answer like that,” Lyssa suggested, “please feel free not to answer it.”

  The trio of intruders advanced and used the long knives to guide their captives deeper into the building. The Professor trailed after them, giving orders that were ignored and shouting whenever they came close to any delicate equipment. There was a lot of delicate equipment for them to come close to.

  Finally, they came to a storeroom with a sturdy-looking lock on the door. It also sounded sturdy as it thunked into place after they had been shoved inside. The door itself also qualified as sturdy, budging not a millimetre as Haynes applied his shoulder to it. There were no windows to break or air conditioning vents to crawl through

  “Why is there’s always a room that’s perfect for locking people up in?” he wondered frustratedly. “Do they design it in or what?”

  “Got a lot of experience of this have you?” Lyssa queried, sitting down on a crate.

  “More than my fair share,” he admitted.

  “Really? This is my first time.”

  “It’s not time to panic just yet,” he reassured her, giving up the search for an elusive escape route. Only purpose-built jail cells seemed to have those.

  “What is the correct response to being locked up by a trio of madmen whilst they decide whether to kill you or not?” she demanded. “Mild concern?”

  “We still have one advantage,” he told her.

  “Really? I’m completely failing to see what that might be.”

  “Keely’s out there and not in here,” he pointed out.

  Lyssa was immediately concerned. “Oh my goodness,” she declared, “I completely forgot about Keely.”

  “Don’t worry, everybody does sooner or later,” a voice said from beyond the door, “forget about m
e that is.”

  “Keely is that you?” Haynes rushed to the door in relief.

  “No, It’s the Easter Bunny,” Keely replied sarcastically from the other side. “That’s the thing about being the young one, the plain one, nobody notices you.”

  “That’s not true Keely...”

  “You fade into the background...”

  “Keely, please...” Lyssa tried.

  “...become part of the furniture...”

  “Keely you’re not...” Haynes also tried to interrupt the flow.

  “...like an old carpet or perhaps a forgotten chest of drawers...”

  “Keely could you stop the self-pity for long enough to look for some way of opening the door?” Haynes shouted.

  “The key in the lock might do that,” Keely supposed, disinterestedly.

  “If you turned it, it might,” Haynes agreed.

  “What, so that you can go and ignore me from somewhere else?” Keely asked. “What’s the difference.”

  “Keely, I don’t believe that we ignore you, but it’s going to be pretty hard to mend our ways after we’ve been shoved out of an airlock,” Haynes pointed out. Why had his life suddenly become about dealing with female tantrums? How had that happened? It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t something he was equipped to handle.

  There was a silence from the other side of the door that was almost palpable and then the key turned, slowly. The door slid open a little way to reveal the snout of a small gun. Haynes backed away, pulling Lyssa behind him. The door came the rest of the way open. Keely was stood on the other side with an impatient look on her face.

  “Well, are you coming or what?”

  “Would you like to point the gun somewhere else?” he suggested.

  “What? Oh sorry.” She did so and both Haynes and Lyssa sighed with relief.

  “What are you doing with a gun?” he asked as they exited from the store room.