The Knockabouts Page 4

  Everyone but Ord was in the common room. Ned and Ursula played pelfre, a card game of galactic wide popularity and playable by nearly any skill level. Its capricious tendencies and volatility made for fast-paced and exciting games, rendering card counting and tell-readings to be of minor importance to success. Those who could stay calm, respond quickly, and adjust their strategy on the fly stood the best chance to win.

  Teller stood and stretched as he scanned the vid deck for another entertainment.

  “Would you like to join us, Captain?” Ned asked.

  Teller looked over his shoulder at him. “No thanks. I’m a bit burned-out on card games.”

  “Too much gambling during your military service?”

  Tell laughed softly. “I don’t gamble… at least not on games of skill and chance.”

  Ursula looked at him. “Are you actually a smuggler?”

  Ned’s expression made clear his surprise at her audacity.

  Teller continued to scan the selection of vid entertainment available, apparently unfazed by the question. “Smuggling is part of commerce. You telling me you never ate Pluvgeon eggs on Vachsblad?”

  “I’m not from there, but I see your point. Where is the line, though? I mean, smuggling eggs is one thing, what do you do if someone wanted you to smuggle slaves?”

  “I’d tell them to eat poog and let Ord go to town on their heads.”

  “So there is a limit. How do you determine what’s acceptable and what is not?”

  Teller tapped his head. “This. Same as anybody else. Governments pass laws, people decide if they’ll abide by that, or not. Most of us have lines we won’t cross. Some have none.”

  “You don’t respect laws passed by legitimate governments?”

  “Not if I disagree. Take the eggs as an example. Vachsblad law says they are unlawful to consume unless purchased from a government-approved vendor. There is a strict limit on sales, so they are artificially rare making them actually expensive. Demand far outstrips supply, but that’s only because Vachsblad’s government says so. The citizens say different. It’s easier to break the law and buy black-market eggs than convince government to change the law. For the record, we’ve never smuggled eggs onto Vachsblad. Never been there before.”

  Ursula nodded. “I see what you mean. Those of lower moral fiber would also smuggle other things, like the slaves we spoke of.”

  “That’s right. In some places, slavery is perfectly legal. Laws passed by legitimate governments, same as those that say eggs should cost an arm and a leg. It’s the way of the galaxy.”

  “And there is money to be made by those willing to break the law and supply the demand.”

  Teller nodded as he touched the screen as he made his selection. “Sometimes.”

  . . .

  ARC Lance transitioned from slipspace to space actual approximately one hour’s flight time from Vachsblad. The planet was a heavily populated one, and as such had a great deal of space traffic within its vicinity. Because of this, Teller chose a safe and conservative approach using the engines’ reverse thrusters to slow the Lance rather that the more aggressive 180 degree pivot and utilizing the main thrusters to brake.

  Not long after, they entered Vachsblad’s automated space traffic control system, which vectored them onto a specific course and speed, leading them to their destination, Altairia, the planet’s capitol city.

  “We’re coming in on the nightside,” Teller said over his shoulder. “You ever see a sunrise from a starship flying into the sun on the dayside?”

  Ursula knew he directed the question at her. “No,” she said.

  “When we cross into day, you’ll get to see the fastest sunrise of your life then. We’ll transition from space to aeronautical flight soon after.”

  After the usual buffeting from entering the planet’s atmosphere, Vachsblad’s air traffic control assumed direction. Teller was surprised when they directed them to Altairie Corporation Center, the epicenter of the mammoth corporation’s galaxy-wide operation.

  “I told you, this is an important project,” Ursula said.

  The surprises continued. On their decent into the center, the area controller directed them to set down at a designated pad point at the skyport on the top of the main building.

  Befitting an ex-aerospace fighter pilot, Teller brought the Lance in at the upper edge of the maximum specified speed, coming off the thrusters as Ord dropped the gear and onto the repulsors just off the pad for a swift, soft, and safe touchdown dead on the marks.

  Ned smiled and thought, showoff, but said nothing.

  Parked nearby were numerous vessels of all sorts, some of a utilitarian nature like ARC Lance, but most were luxury star-yachts, and ostentatious in-system private shuttles.

  Teller pointed at one nearby vessel as they began shutdown procedures. “The trim on that crate alone is worth more than the entire Lance.”

  “ARC Lance, this is local controller. Director Sodall would like Miz Raik to call him on his private comlink.”

  “Affirmative, control.” Teller looked over his shoulder. “You catch that Miz Raik?”

  She gave him a disapproving look. “Yes, Captain.” She stood and left the command deck as she keyed her data pad.

  “You usually land in such a fashion as just now?” Ned asked.

  “When I have a pad marked as clearly as this one? Yeah. Some of the time we’re lucky if we have an X scraped in the dirt. You don’t approve?”

  “Didn’t say that. I will say you fly a Lancer class sloop rather well.”

  Teller turned and looked at the engineer. “You spend a lot of time with these?”

  A hint of smile showed. “Enough. There’s still a great many earning their keep all over the known galaxy.”

  Ursula returned shortly, now wearing a fresh business ensemble. “We’re all to go to the reception desk in the skyport lobby, then to the director’s office.”

  “I thought my job was complete,” Jessop said.

  “Director Sodall would like to speak with you.”

  “A personal evaluation probably. He holds the purse strings.” He looked at Teller. “Mind if I leave my luggage aboard until we’re through?”

  “Not a bit.”

  “Crew not responsible for damage or loss,” Ord said. As the giant began to chuckle in his deep voice, Ned laughed heartily.

  An automated shuttle stopped near the Lance off her port side. When the quartet was ready to leave, they exited from the airlock on that side, moving down the extended ramp. Teller secured the ship and joined the other three who were aboard the shuttle.

  The shuttle quietly took them down the edge of the skyport to the executive tower, a structure several dozen stories higher than the main building from which it rose. They disembarked and walked inside.

  The lobby was a demonstration in the subtle art of the low-key display of wealth, with not a single ostentatious item in sight, yet everything whispered class and culture. The high, domed ceiling, intricately scaled tile floor, and bright yet non-glaring lights set in yellow metal frames within the wood paneled walls were all examples.

  “Wealth on show by people who are comfortable about it,” Jessop commented.

  The theme continued in the lift column, dark brown mirrors set in etched flush-mounted frames surrounded them as they rode to one of the highest floors in the tower.

  Ursula led them down the softly carpeted hall and into a large waiting area at the end of the passage. “Welcome to directors row as they call it,” she said. “I’ll check in with Director Sodall. Have a seat.”

  Teller looked the room over. Pale yellow fabrics stitched with images of flying birds covered walls edged with gray wood trim. More than a dozen offices opened off the waiting area, each with a receptionist in a cubicle controlling access. One receptionist in particular caught his eye. He looked to Ord and Ned, the older man already seated and reading something on a data pad. Ord remained standing, finding no seat likely to sustain his bulk.


  “Be right back,” Teller said as he brushed at the sleeves of his shipsuit and checked the alignment of the ARC Lance patch stix-fixed on the left breast pocket.

  Ord glared when he saw his friend on a laser-straight course for a cubicle with an attractive blonde Human receptionist occupying the station. “Never it fails,” he muttered.

  Jessop glanced up and chuckled, then returned to his reading.

  A short time later, Tell returned with a wide smile and twinkle in his eye. “She’s not a receptionist. She’s a staffer for some bigwig in the corp. Name’s Almaire DeFrisco.”

  Ord held the same glare he’d worn since his friend left. He pointed at the blonde staffer. “That wise?”

  Teller looked over his shoulder and then back to Ord. “I know what you’re thinking, old pal, but you’re wrong. She’s not our boss and we aren’t working with her like Ursula. Besides, she likes tall pilots with hot ships. I think we were made for each other.”

  Ord groaned. “This again.” It wasn’t a question.

  “What! This is completely different than any of those… few others.”

  “Few?”

  Teller’s hands went up in exasperation. “You don’t have a romantic bone in that immense body, do you?”

  “Romance is here,” Ord said tapping his chest, “and here,” he added with a tap on his forehead.

  Teller glared and poked a finger at his friend. “Sometimes you scare me.” He flopped into a chair next to Jessop. “You didn’t see the legs on her.”

  A few minutes later, Ursula stepped from the office and waved at the trio. “The director would like to meet you.”

  She led the way past the cubicle into a large and high-ceilinged office. A man as tall as Teller leaned against the front of his desk, his air and expensive business attire made it clear he was the boss, Director Blake Sodall.

  Teller made a quick glance at his own garb—a one-piece shipsuit covered in pockets and attachment points for gear, the well worn but still serviceable high and knee-guarded ranger boots he’d acquired on Arborius IV worn exposed with the pant legs tucked inside—and considered the contrast. Fresh shipsuits or no, Ord and I look like janitorial workers compared to that guy, he thought.

  A man and a woman stood nearby dressed in drab and mundane clothing. They appeared as out of place and uncomfortable as Teller felt, but they had the look of security or law enforcement operatives. Teller was betting on the former. They’re secops, guards for whatever it is we’re delivering, he thought. Four other people in business attire sat in chairs and on a sofa arranged opposite the desk. They rose as Jessop, Hawmer, and Skellum entered.

  “Welcome,” Sodall said. “We now have everyone who is privy to this operation present. We have gone to great lengths to ensure no leaks have occurred, and I wish it to remain this way.”

  He introduced Ursula’s group to the others in the room, four members of his staff and two members of the Altairie security force, Marl Limik and Helen Nix, who were the security contingent for the mission, just as Teller surmised.

  Ursula in turn introduced Teller, Ord, and Ned to the others.

  Sodall drew a small module from a pocket on his jacket and pressed a control on its face. The large framed art piece on the wall behind the desk chair retracted from view, revealing a display screen and holoprojector. “Let’s all synchronize.” Another push on the module called up a list of points on the screen and a starmap formed in the air in front of the projector. “Gather around.”

  The people in the room formed a rough semicircle in front of the desk while Sodall stepped to the side.

  “I’ll not go into the particulars of the project itself. Frankly, the less you know the better. We’ll stick to the dissemination operation. Suffice it for me to say, this is most important to the corporation and at this point in development, requires a deft and discreet handling of assets. That is where you all have a part to play, the delivery and security of five data cases.”

  Director Sodall gestured at the holodisplay star map. Five points blinked among the dozens of systems shown within the display. “We will start with the route. Once you depart Vachsblad, you will transit to the planet Marzhan, five-point-five light years away. From there you shall proceed to Jeordral, seven light years distant. The next stops will be Matai, Breelan Station over Drellick’s World, and Commerce Station over Boddan-Three, six-point-two-five, eight, and seven-point-five light years respectively. That is a total of just about thirty-four light years. The distribution needs to be completed in fifty-three hours or less.”

  “Nineteen hours for closing with planets or stations, landing or docking, delivery, and departure,” Teller said. His face revealed nothing.

  Sodall nodded. “Correct.” He looked at Ned Jessop. “You have examined the ship and seen the crew in action. What is your evaluation?”

  “The ARC Lance is a sound starship crewed by two able spacers, knockabouts to use the parlance.” Jessop noticed some confused looks on some of the staffers. “It means they are at the apex of the species. They can not only get their craft from one place to another, but they can maintain and repair it as well.”

  “Do you believe the ship can adhere to the schedule set in the contract?” Sodall asked.

  “The schedule is a challenging one, but barring outside influence or unforeseen circumstances, yes. It will be tight, but yes.”

  “Thank you Mister Jessop.” Sodall looked at Teller and Ord. “Are you confident you can meet the contract?”

  Both men nodded. “For sake of asking, what’s the penalty for tardiness?” Teller said.

  “One thousand credits per hour over,” a staffer said.

  “Don’t forget there is a bonus of one thousand credits if you dock over Boddan-Three in less than forty-nine hours,” another staffer said. “It’s probably an optimistic goal, but it bears mentioning.”

  Teller nodded. “Forty-nine hours, yes, that would be a feat.” He looked to Director Sodall. “Pardon the question, but why not send five ships? One per location. All five would be at their destination in ten or eleven hours max. You could even time simultaneous delivery.”

  Sodall smiled. “We considered it, but felt it would require more exposure than we preferred. The cases are all chronolocked for simultaneous opening by each of the five concerned parties. If there is an attempt to open them prior to a given time, the data within will be destroyed. We feel this is a better delivery option. The difficulty in the procurement of five fast ships with able crews, the increased chance of compromise because of more individuals becoming privy to our actions, not to mention several other factors… I’m sure you see why we prefer our current methods.”

  “It also means more credits for you,” said a staffer.

  Teller smiled. “I wasn’t complaining.”

  “Once you arrive at each location, delivery should not take long. The parties receiving the data are expecting it and should be ready to take possession. Miz Raik will carry each case and ensure presentation is made to the correct party. One security operative shall accompany Raik while the other maintains watch on the remaining cases. Upon delivery of all five cases, you shall return here with confirmation and the job will be complete. Is this agreeable?”

  Teller looked at Ord who gave a slight nod. He looked back to Sodall. “It is.”

  “Excellent.” He pointed to one of his staffers who held a large data pad. “Miz Nephron has the contract. Peruse it, then sign. I need to speak with Ursula.”

  Teller looked over the contract, a simple and standard shipping agreement stipulating the issues they had just discussed. Teller placed his thumb on the imprint scanner, and the agreement became binding. He checked to be sure a copy was on his own data pad, and once satisfied, he waited for Ursula and the Director to conclude their discussion. Once they did, she walked to join Teller, Ord, and Ned.

  “How long will it take us to be ready for departure?” she asked.

  “Once at the ship, half an hour to do it by the book.” />
  “If the cases arrived fifteen minutes before we leave, would that be an issue?”

  “Fifteen chrono units?” He shook his head. “Not unless there was a problem with securing the cargo.”

  Ursula gestured to Director Sodall. “Forty-five minutes, sir.”

  The Director looked to his staff and the security personnel. “See to it.” As they left the room, he approached the remaining four. “Good luck to you all, and thank you.”

  Sodall shook hands with each of them, and then they made their way to the skyport lobby, taking a shuttle back to the Lance. As Teller deactivated the Lance’s security systems, his data pad signaled an incoming communiqué. As they boarded, he checked the message and found it was confirmation of the advance payment from Altairie Corporation.

  He smiled and slapped Ord on the back, holding up the message so his friend could see it. “That’s it, old pal. Two grand in the hole and eighteen more on completion.”

  “Nineteen more.”

  Teller’s smile grew larger. “I like the way you think. The time bonus. Nineteen more.” He tapped on a bulkhead. “Twenty-one thousand. That’ll keep us going for awhile. Maybe we use this gig as a springboard to bigger things, more contracts like this. Fix the Lance up right.”

  “We keep Lance.”

  “You’re damn right we do. Those luxury dead-sleds outside could never match our crate’s performance, no matter how many Carperan Bank creds you throw at’em.”

  “How big is cargo?” Ord said. “Need rear ramp?”

  “Good question, and one we should have asked. To make sure we don’t come off as lubbers, drop it just in case.”

  Ord moved down the passageway to the cargo hold as Ned and Ursula stepped into the space behind Teller.

  “Captain,” Jessop said. “Can I ask you for a favor?”

  “We haven’t been paid much, so if it’s a loan, no dice.”

  Jessop laughed. “Not a loan. A ride.”