Starship Repo

by Patrick S. Tomlinson

  “Let me see your credentials,” the heavy said.

  First pointed at her face. “You see any other humans around here?”

  “Credentials.”

  “Somebody in the crowd yanked my badge while your guys were dicking around trying to break up the push on the stage. Look for a big red caterpillar trying to pass themselves off as me. It won’t be hard.”

  “Um…”

  “The encore is almost over. I’ve got maybe three minutes to do the preflight and get the tour bus ready for departure before they’re going to need it, or we’ll be running behind for the next stop. Are you helping or not?”

  “What’s a ‘minute’?”

  “A human unit of time I can’t afford to waste.”

  “Right this way, sir,” the guard said.

  First rolled her eyes. “Close enough.”

  With a renewed sense of urgency, First walked briskly toward the small hangar bay at the back of the venue, where the acts could come and go unseen by the attendees. A half dozen short-range private VIP transports sat scattered around the deck. At the center of it all, painted up in the most garish, red-, white-, and blue-wolverine-themed mural imaginable, sat the SunRunner II 2860. Fifty meters long, it was smaller than most in-system shuttles and just about the smallest hull you could mount a hyperspace portal generator on. But if you were only transporting a few people, it was a posh, if a little cramped, way to travel.

  Some enterprising fans had ducked out early just as First had and collected around the tour bus, hoping to catch a glimpse, get an autograph, or even score a fling with their idols. A trio of security guards kept them at arm’s length on the other side of a velvet rope.

  “What’s this?” one of them asked as the horned guard walked up with First.

  “Preflight checks,” her escort said.

  “Doesn’t the pilot do that?”

  “He’s busy helping with teardown. They sent me to get started.”

  “Where’s your badge?”

  “Stolen,” First said. “I already went through all this with him.” She stuck a thumb out at her escort. “If I’m not done with my prep by the time they get here, I’ll get my ass chewed. So do you mind?”

  The two guards exchanged weary glances before they waved her through the rope.

  “Thanks. I’ll just be a minute.” First pulled her deck out and walked up to the tour bus main cabin hatch, which was wide open. She didn’t even need to put in the code.

  Happy birthday to me, she thought as she dropped into the pilot’s chair. Even though it was small for a starship, it was still enormously bigger than any aircar she’d ever flown. But the controls were simplified for civilian users, so they didn’t need to get hyperspace certified to use it, and the automated systems were robust and redundant.

  First went down the start-up checklist the company had provided, bringing the bus’s systems online one by one. She was just about to cycle the pressure seals when—

  “What are you doing in here?” a resonant voice said from behind her. First spun around in the chair and came face-to-face with Eagle Independence.

  “Holy crap,” Eagle said after a shocked moment. “You’re a girl!”

  “Uh … yeah.”

  “No, I mean like, a human girl. Er, woman. Sorry. You are human, right?”

  “Last I checked.” First patted herself down theatrically. “Why, you get a lot of fake humans?”

  “You’d be shocked the length some fans will go to. Plastic surgery, gene splicing, and there’s always the shape-shifters. That was a nasty way to wake up, let me tell you.”

  “I’d rather you didn’t.” Something about his tone shifted First’s assumptions. “Wait, do you mean to tell me you’re human, too?”

  “Emphasis on the man part,” Eagle said.

  “Killing the mood now.”

  “Right, sorry. Wait. What are you doing here?”

  “Keeping the seat warm for you,” First said, trying to sound just a touch sultry. It didn’t come naturally to her, but judging by how awkwardly he was staring, it didn’t need to. The fact he was human after all opened up all sorts of ways to get her out of this jam.

  “Where’s the rest of the band?” she asked innocently.

  “They’re still signing shirts and … other things. I forgot my lucky pen on the bus and, well, how did you get in here again?”

  First could see Eagle’s brain fighting with his balls over what to do about the intruder. First decided to help the latter. But she needed to be quick, so she got out of the pilot’s chair and drew herself up, exaggerating the arch of her back and thrusting her bottom out to one side.

  “The guards thought you might like to meet me in a more private setting.”

  “Oh, um, they’re not supposed to do that anymore. Not after the changeling incident.”

  First ran the back of her hand down his exposed arm. His skin was hot and slicked with sweat from the exertion of the performance. He smelled of musk, but not in a disagreeable way. He was also young. Maybe only a year or two older than she was.

  But quite opposed to the rock star she’d just seen strutting confidently across the stage for almost two hours, in person, Eagle seemed nervous. His eyes vacillated between hunger and anxiety. How long had they been out on tour now? How long since he’d spent any time with a human girl? Probably almost as long as she’d gone without a human boy. Poor thing. First almost felt bad about how this would end.

  Almost.

  “Don’t be angry at them. They want you to have a good time. C’mon, Eagle. Are you going to show me around or what?”

  “Oh yeah. Of course. Follow me.”

  “Eagle?”

  “Yeah.”

  First pointed at the hatch. “Close the door. I’d like some … alone time.”

  He swallowed. Hard. “Right.” He swung the hatch shut and locked it. “Right this way.” He walked deeper into the bus. “Here’s the kitchen. We’ve got all the hits from home in here.” He opened a cupboard door. “Twinkies, Twizzlers, Campbell’s soup.” He moved on to the fridge. “Mountain Dew, Coke, and best of all”—he grabbed a glass bottle and twisted the cap off—“Miller Light! Want one?”

  “I’m not old enough,” First said, feigning bashfulness.

  “Me neither.” Eagle took a long pull of beer. “But nobody out here’s checking IDs. They don’t care one bit.”

  “Just a Coke, please.”

  Eagle handed her a cola bottle and continued the tour. “Here’s the bathroom and shower, real water, not that million mosquitoes ultrasonic crap. Back here is the living room where we watch movies, play games, and, ah, other things. The sofa is genuine cow leather. Really comfy. Here.” He leaned over and grabbed a couple of plastic badges off the end table. “Backstage passes. Hold on to them. You can use them anytime we’re in town.”

  First smiled warmly and put them in her purse. “Thank you sooo much.”

  “My pleasure. Next up comes our bunks.”

  “You don’t have your own bedroom?” First said, pouting. “That bed looks awfully narrow. Can two people fit on it together?”

  “Um, no, there’s, ah, not enough space.”

  “Is that the other things the living room is for?” she said coyly.

  “Sometimes, maybe. For the other guys.”

  “Mmm-hmm. I’m sure you’re a saint.” First pointed her Coke toward the very end of the hall past the bunks. “What’s back there?”

  “Oh, that? That’s just the escape pod.”

  “The escape pod? How exciting.”

  “I … guess.”

  “How big is it inside?”

  “Big enough for five. But it’s cramped.”

  “Can I see it?” First pleaded.

  “Sure. It’s actually pretty cool, all the miniaturized life support systems and stuff.” He opened the hatch. “Don’t close this door behind you. It can’t be opened from the inside.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because after
you’ve been locked in a closet floating in space for a few days, people can get cooped up and do crazy things.”

  “Like open the door to vacuum?”

  “Exactly.”

  They sat down in two of the skeletal, lightweight chairs inside the escape pod. No accommodations to comfort or style had been made in here. Just pure minimalist functionality.

  “What’s your name?” Eagle asked.

  “First.”

  “First? As in the start, the beginning?”

  “Maybe, if you’re nice to me.”

  “That’s a weird name.”

  First snorted. “Says a boy named Eagle Independence.”

  Eagle’s cheeks flushed. “It’s just a stage name.”

  “Well, mine is, too, sort of.”

  “What do you need a stage name for, First? What do you do?”

  “Oh, I just came out here for a fresh start. New life, new name, I guess you could say. Honestly, it was a data-entry error that never got fixed, and I’ve just sort of ran with it.”

  “You’re a runaway?” Eagle asked.

  “Something like that,” First said. “Kind of like you. Ran away from home to become a rock star.”

  Eagle smirked. “Something like that.”

  “Where’s home?”

  “Battle Creek, Michigan. Me and all the guys.”

  “Earth, huh? Don’t know anyone from Earth. I grew up on PCB.”

  “Hopped the first transport off that dust bowl soon as you could, huh?”

  “Damn right. Out of the frying pan, into the fire.” First sipped her Coke. “How about you? How did a kid from Battle Creek wind up way out here?”

  “Alien abduction.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Pretty much. We were all doing band practice in my folks’ garage when an honest-to-God flying saucer came down and asked if we wanted to be rock stars among the stars.”

  “And that didn’t strike you as sketchy?”

  “Sketchier than running away from home on an alien trade ship?”

  “Touché.”

  Eagle took another pull of his beer. “You know, for just a second back there, I thought maybe you were trying to steal our bus. Isn’t that funny?”

  The comment snapped First back to the then and there. She’d let herself get distracted talking to Eagle. She’d wasted valuable time. But even more surprising was, she realized she was enjoying herself.

  “Hilarious.”

  “I, um … I like your shirt.” Eagle pointed at it. “Whitesnake were legends. We sing a bunch of their songs on the tour. Is it vintage?”

  “I wish,” First said. “It’s a repro, unfortunately.”

  “That’s all right. So are most of our shirts. And the tour posters.” He froze, clearly hesitating, then found his courage and leaned in. “Here I go again,” he whispered, but First intercepted his puckering lips with a finger.

  “Not so fast.” First finished her Coke and stood up. “Wait right there, rock star. I have a surprise for you.”

  “Yeah? Will I like it?”

  First leaned over and booped his nose with a fingertip. “You’ll just have to wait and see, big boy.”

  She turned and took two steps out of the escape pod, then shut the door with Eagle still inside.

  “Hey!” Eagle pounded a fist on the window. “What the hell?”

  “I’m a repo agent. Your tour bus has been repossessed. I’ve officially taken legal custody.” First shrugged. “Surprise.”

  “Can’t say I’m a fan of the surprise.”

  “Just hold tight. You’re not in any danger.” First left him there and returned to the cockpit, past the main hatch on which several angry, panicked security guards were beating. “You’re going to want to get clear,” First said into the intercom. “I’m not waiting for you.”

  She plopped down in the pilot’s chair and completed her preflight checklist while the very large, very irate horned guard stood on the nose shouting and making what First had to assume were very obscene gestures with his hands and other appendages of likely reproductive or excretory nature. The counter-grav landing pods spooled to life at her command. As the nose lifted off the ground ever so gently, even the horned guard decided his job wasn’t worth dying for and jumped off.

  “Smart,” First said as she pinged the hangar doors to open. Within moments, she was clear of the venue and accelerating over the surface of the airless moon. Within minutes, she was in orbit and waiting for her hyperspace generator to fully charge.

  Just one more thing to take care of. First walked back to the escape pod at the end of the hall.

  “Listen, Eagle. I’m sorry about this. You seem like a really nice guy, surprisingly. But we’re pretty sure your manager is screwing you over big-time and might even be wrapped up in some nastier stuff. You should get clear of them. But for right now, you’re getting clear of here. You’ll be safe in a stable orbit until someone comes to sweep you up. Probably won’t be more than an hour or two.” She put her hand over the eject button. “Time to fly, Eagle.”

  “First, wait!”

  First’s hand hovered over the button. “Well?”

  “Caleb,” he said. “My real name’s Caleb.”

  First’s breath caught in her throat. She thought he was going to beg, or yell at her, or …

  She hesitated, staring at him as he looked back at her expectantly. First looked away and gave herself a little shake, then pushed the button. The inner door snapped shut, and for a split second, First saw Caleb’s face looking out at her. He was smiling. Then the escape pod dropped away with a whoosh of propellant gases and flew clear.

  First rubbed at her eyes, which were suddenly moist. “Dusty in here,” she told herself. “You’re just homesick, dummy. That idiot was the first human you’ve seen in a year. Besides, he smelled weird.”

  With the autopilot set for Junktion, the hyperspace projectors opening a portal, and her 3-D glasses on, First rinsed out the taste of sour grapes with a cold beer. She’d be alone here for two days, anyway. No reason she couldn’t experiment. She’d stop after one. Maybe two.

  CHAPTER 11

  “Wow,” Hashin said, looking at the commandeered tour bus as it floated in its slip on the other side of the bay window. “That is garish. The leasing company will have to spring for a new paint job.”

  “Are you kidding?” the docking attendant said. “That’s the Wolverines’ bus. Some crazy fan will pay double for it as is. I’m surprised there’s not a crowd down here already.”

  “Now that’s a scary thought. Too bad we can’t throw a tarp over it. When did that flaming-blue eyesore pull in?”

  The Ish consulted his handheld. “Two larims ago.”

  “And nobody’s come out yet?”

  “Not a shell or soul.”

  Hashin hadn’t thought to take any Forbodal that morning, or he would have experienced a really bad feeling about this.

  “Is the hull compromised? Power? Life support?”

  “No, everything’s amber. Lights are on and the air’s blowing. There’s just nobody answering the door.”

  “That’s bad. Please excuse me.”

  Hashin crossed through the airlock and jogged down the All-Seal to the main hatch. It was quite thoroughly locked, but he had the access codes from the lender. “First?” He pounded on the door, just to see if he could save himself the trouble. After three tries, he gave up and entered the code.

  It didn’t work.

  Someone had changed the lock code, and Hashin suspected he knew who. Fortunately, ignoring locked doors was one of his specialties. A brief search turned up a nearby maintenance panel. The hatch popped open with a few crossed wires. Hashin wasted no time climbing into the bus in search of his mislaid teammate. The interior looked and sounded like the deathly silent aftermath of a cyclone. Clothes, plastic wrappers, cleaned-out food containers, and empty bottles covered every flat surface.

  “Rock and roll.” Hashin waded through the mess, pausing t
o grab one bottle and smell its contents. There were a few drops left, which he dripped on his tongue.

  Fermented cereal grains, carbonation, ethyl alcohol. Oh. Oh dear, he thought. “First? Where are you, little one?”

  An answering groan came from deeper in the cabin. Hashin moved quickly, past the emptied refrigeration unit with its door hanging open, past something that could possibly be a crime scene in the bathroom, past the naked couch with its cushions strewn about the living area, and finally into a small hallway with bunked beds. One of which had its curtains drawn tight.

  Hashin ripped them open to find First, mostly naked, hair slicked with sweat, and shivering.

  “Ahhhh,” she complained as she threw a hand over her eyes against the sudden reappearance of light. “Are you trying to kill me?”

  “Of course not. Why would you even ask such a thing?”

  “Because I want to die.”

  “Lords, and I thought the outside of this thing looked like hell.”

  “Thanks.” First drew her knees up to her chest and tried to close the curtains again, but Hashin held them firm.

  “First, did you drink all those bottles of alcohol on the floor and counters out there?”

  “No.” She shook her head gently. “No, no, no. Caleb had some of one.”

  “Who’s Caleb?”

  “He’s Eagle.”

  “Caleb is an eagle?”

  “No, that’s stupid. He’s the singer.”

  Hashin grimaced annoyance. “Where is this singing eagle?”

  First smirked and pointed a finger mounted to an unsteady arm at the back of the cabin. “I dumped him. Ha ha.”

  Hashin’s alarm ratcheted up several notches. “You spaced someone?”

  “I left him in a stable orbit,” First answered defensively. “You’ll need a new escape pod, by the way.”

  Hashin sighed and went back to the living room to recover some clothes for her. Whose they were, he wasn’t in a mood to care. “Here, put these on. We’re leaving.”

  “But I did it!” First half shouted, then grabbed her head. “Ow. But I did it. I brought the bus in all by myself.”

  “And we’ll need to spend a third of the profit on a new escape pod and a good maid.” He looked again at the disaster in the cabin. “A discreet one.”