So it appears that there is going to be a second volume of Tales Around the Supper Table, and I've been asked for a submission. I've been having a really difficult time writing lately and my lack of posts here can serve as evidence. I've managed to wring about 1300 words or so out of my brain so far. Still waiting to see if this thing is going to develop into a story or not. If it does, I think the target is a Christmas release unless plans have changed without my knowledge.
As always, opinions and suggestions are welcome.
-Wayne
Scott was flat of his back on the creeper under
his lander realigning and cussing the "gods-be-damned hydraulics" on
the right, rear landing gear again. He
was doing that after almost every landing lately, no matter how gently he
touched down. He grabbed the hydraulic cylinder that actuated the gear and
yanked it back into place. His hand slipped on the leaking hydraulic fluid and slammed
his knuckles into the bulkhead.
"You piece of shit! Let me get one
more really good job, and I'm gonna replace your worn-out ass! If I can find another
lander that isn’t just as big of a pile and will fit in the shuttle bay of the
hunk of junk I work out of before the inspectors force me to take its damned
near obsolete ass out of service. Fuck my life."
He stabbed the wrench up into the access
to tighten everything back down only to realize he'd grabbed a twelve-millimeter
spanner instead of the ten.
"Damned ten mil wrenches have stealth
capabilities." He turned his head to the side to find the wrench he needed
only to have his gaze land on a pair of well-polished dress shoes and the legs
of an expensive looking pair of pants. "There's only about three people in
the 'verse could ever sneak up me, and two of them are dead. What do you want,
Sir?"
The voice of his former commanding
officer, Colonel Raymond Davies, a voice that up until now had only haunted his
dreams replied, "Can that 'Sir' shit. We're not Troopers anymore. Can't a
guy just drop in to check in with an old friend?"
Scott went back to tightening down the
adjustment bolt on the hydraulic ram he'd just finished aligning, locking it
into place. When he finished, he rolled his creeper out from under the lander
and sat up. "You? No, Sir. Not you. You need something, so spill it."
Davies grabbed a nearby rolling stool and
took a seat. "Ok fine. My company lost a shipment in Kovachian space. The
diplomatic atmosphere isn't all that favorable to getting it back through the regular
channels. Besides there may be a
second, undocumented cargo on the freighter that the regular channels might
find unacceptable and not return to me. I need someone in good standing with
the Kovac, and failing that I need a ghost to get it back for me. Luckily, I
know someone who meets both of those needs."
Scott took the pack of smokes out of his
shirt pocket, tapped one out, and lit it up without offering one to his
visitor. He took a long pull on the cigarette and blew the smoke at Davies. "On
any other day I'd tell you to fuck right off. Luckily for you, today is not any
other day. What's the payday?"
Davies waved his manicured hand in front
of his face to fan away the smoke. "Straight to business huh? That's what
I always liked about you, Scott. You're just so damned matter-of-fact about
everything. Half a million galactic for successful return of the cargo. You're
probably going to have to abandon that flying hunk of scrap you call a ship, so
I'll transfer the title for the one the Kovac have captured into your name.
Keep it."
Scott shook his head and took another drag
of his smoke once again blowing it towards Davies. "My impartial, down to
business approach to things is why the Kovac deal with me. How do you know they
haven't already taken the cargo and scrapped the boat? I mean, that is S.O.P.
for those knuckle draggers. May not be much of anything left for me to recover."
The
second cloud of smoke brought a cough from Davies. "Can't believe you
haven't given those damned things up. As for the ship and its cargo, we know it's
still intact because F.I.D.O. won't let them on board. It'll overload the
engines and destroy the ship before it will allow anyone, or in the case of the
Kovac, anything, to enter the ship without proper authorization."
Scott sat forward at the mention of a
Fully Intelligent Defense and Operations A.I. "A F.I.D.O.? Are you out of
your damned mind? Those things are fucking dangerous! Anyway, I thought they
were outlawed after that one spaced the entire crew of a battle cruiser because
it determined that they 'endangered' the ship."
"Don't worry, Scott. This is a next
gen version that we developed in-house. We haven't gotten clearance to give it
a crew yet, but it is allowed to make short trips into contested space on its
own provided the ship is unarmed, which is why the Kovac were able to capture
it. It's primary programming will not let it destroy the ship or cargo unless
the hull is breached. If that happens, we get a coded message notifying us of
the event. No message yet means the ship is intact, which is where you come
in."
500k
galactic plus a ship with a cutting edge A.I. What the hell are they sending me
after that could be worth that? Davies was always into some sketchy shit when
we were troopers, but there's not enough dope in the quadrant for that kind of
payday. Guns maybe? That's his legit business though, why risk that with
illegal arms? Hell, for that kind of payout, I don't really care.
"Know what? I'm in."
Davies stood up from the stool and reached
into his jacket breast pocket. He pulled out a card and handed it to Scott.
"Be at this location tomorrow at noon. Don't use your geo-locator to find
it. Gotta go 'old Earth', all analog and paper to keep this off the wrong
screens. You'll be meeting with me and my business associate. See ya
then."
Scott watched him walk away. He looked
down at the card and recognized the address as being in the warehouse district
on the west side of the city. He tucked it into his shirt pocket and rolled
back under the lander to check the other two landing struts.
This
just feels off, but it's awfully elaborate if it's a setup. Besides, why would
Davies bother with setting me up? More his style just to have me shot. Looks
like I'm gonna have to scout it tonight, so I can know what I'm walking into.
***
The warehouse district of what was once
Corpus Christi, now part of the Houston Megalopolis that covered most of what
was once Texas's coastline, served both the space port as well as the
traditional water borne shipping ports and was almost always busy. Lurking
around the area after dark without a work permit was sketchy. Merchant vessels
were always looking for crew, and shanghaies were not unheard of. Luckily Scott
had a reputation for being a person not to be trifled with. A reputation he
well deserved for leaving more than one merchant marine laying on the docks in
his own fluids.
It didn't take him long to find the
warehouse that belonged to RayCorp. It was the only clean and freshly painted
building in the area. It was also one of the largest and well-lit buildings in
the warehouse district. The entire facility including the parking area was
surrounded by an eight-foot fence that was topped with razor wire. Armed guards
patrolled inside the fenced perimeter and the only access point visible was a
guarded gate. There was also a rail gun style hull piercer mounted on the roof
of the warehouse to discourage incursion from above.
I
guess when you sell things that go bang and/or boom security is kind of important.
All that shit would be just as effective at keeping someone in as it is at
keeping them out. Davies always was overly cautious bordering on paranoid. I've
already told him I'd take the job. Guess tomorrow will show me how well and
truly fucked I am.
