by Chris Lowry
“It’s cold in here,” said Tinker. “I can’t help it.”
He felt like he was winning the first round of negotiation, so he decided to double down.
“Gerald sent me,” he said.
“Who?”
“Gerald,” said Tinker. “Big guy. Lots of purple veins on his nose. In our line of work.”
“Oh,” the man snarled. “Gerald. Why didn’t you say so? I almost blasted your ass.”
“My ass thanks you that you didn’t,” said Tinker.
“Your ass talks?”
“Only when I have gas.”
The thin tall man snickered.
“Yeah man, I know Gerald.”
“He’s good people,” said Tinker.
“He’s a son of a bitch and a thief,” the man answered. “He’d take your credit and anything else you have and never even blink.”
“Yeah, he’s rotten to the core,” said Tinker.
“But he’s my friend,” the hard eyes glared at him.
“I know,” said Tinker. “That’s why I said good people. He’s one of us.”
“Why are you skulking around my dock?”
The man had thin hair blown back from a long forehead, a thin nose that stretched down his horse like face.
His eyes were huge, almost anime, and Tinker wouldn’t swear that the man wasn’t on something at the moment. He couldn’t tell what color the eyes were since the pupils were so large.
“I’m not skulking,” he answered. “I’m waiting.”
“Gerald sent you to wait for me?” his voice sounded paranoid and wary.
“He said you could give me a ride?” Tinker asked.
He didn’t feel like explaining much more so he held out the credit chip.
The man swiped it from his hand and made it disappear.
“I’m Letch, the ship’s “captain,” said the thin man in front of him.
“Why did you make air quotes around captain?” Tinker asked.
“Aw man, you know dude, it’s all done by computer now. I just program it in and the computer does the rest.”
“I don’t trust computers,” said Tinker.
“Man, you have to trust ‘em. That’s all these new ships use.”
“I know,” Tinker shrugged. “But still, I like my hand on the stick and the ball is mine.”
“You like to handle a stick huh?” Letch leered.
“Ship yoke,” Tinker said quickly.
Letch leered some more.
“Gas, grass or ass, babe,” the shaggy haired pilot leered at the front of Tinker’s pants. “Nobody rides for free.”
Tinker could feel the man undressing him mentally and fought off a shudder.
“I gave you all my credit,” Tinker gulped.
“Don’t worry gorgeous,” said Letch. “I bet we can find something you’re good at doing.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“Oh God,” Letch moaned. “You are so good at that.”
“Told you,” Tinker mumbled.
He fumbled a refill into the half empty glass in Letch’s hand, filling it
to the rim.
“You just learned how to make this?” Letch slurred as he drained the glass again.
“Yeah,” Tinker said. “We should probably slow down.”
“I’ve only got two speeds,” Letch slurred. “Light speed and-”
He belched over the last answer, sending a wash of moonshine scented breath across the small passenger compartment of his ship.
It was a short squat frigate, and had been a passenger vessel in a past life, designed to ferry new colonists to between stations on their way to Mars.
Letch or one of his predecessors stripped the interior, the better to haul more cargo. It turned the inside of the ship into little more than a travelling tube, with massive engines in the back.
Tinker didn’t see how anyone could get to the rear of ship with a full load of cargo, in case there were problems with the engines, but he kept his mouth shut.
Letch warmed up when they boarded the ship, and warmed up even more when Tinker spied some equipment in the hold.
“I can make a still with that,” he told the “captain.”
“What’s a still?”
Tinker just looked at the man as if he couldn’t understand the words coming out of his mouth.
“A whiskey still.”
“Like moonshine?” Letch’s eyes opened in wonder, like a child anticipating a birthday present.
“I call it starshine,” Tinker said as he inspected the pieces.
The tubing wasn’t copper, but it was malleable and he thought it would still work the way the Silver Sister and Hugh told him.
While Letch prepared for launch, Tinker prepared for the party favors for their trip.
The first day had been miserable while they waited. There was supposed to be a window of opportunity, a time when the finished product mellowed and aged, according to his two absent mentors.
But Letch had talked him into a sample, and though it burned like rocket fuel going down, it spread a mellow feeling throughout his body.
He rode that buzz on slow sips just to nurse it along as the ship plowed through space toward the chop shop.
Letch exercised less caution and drank a glass where a sip would do.
He got drunk fast and Tinker thought that he might be a belligerent drinker, and he would spend the rest of their voyage ducking and hiding from violent overtures and physical innuendos.
Six jars in, Letch passed out.
“Lightweight,” Tinker snickered as he watched the man sprawl on the seat across from him.
He sat back and felt the thrum of the engines in the armrest of the seats. He let the glass of hootch rest on his leg, the slight vibration throbbing against the muscle.
His NC 17 didn’t run this rough, but the feeling was a familiar one. He could feel her moving through space, moving toward some new destination, some new discovery with an adventure on the horizon or under his belt.
That’s what he loved about his ship. HIS ship. It carried him away from wherever he was and took him to where he wanted to go.
It was home. It was safe. And he felt a thrill that the moonshine couldn’t mask, because in a short time, it would be his again.
Back where it belonged.
And he decided that once he was on board, he would search for a little job to put some fuel cells on board, and another little job to pay back Jewel and Sanya.
Then he would take his ship to some quiet out of the way station, just to chill.
There would be a bar, of course, because there always was, and a brothel if he picked right, and he damn sure wanted to pick right, so he needed enough credit to cover that too.
Maybe more than once, he grinned.
He glanced over at Letch.
“How long do you think?” he asked.
But Letch didn’t answer even as the computer chimed over the speaker.
PREPARE FOR DOCKING, it stated in a flat robotic voice.
“That works,” said Tinker.
He took one more sip to empty his glass and buckled up for the landing.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Tinker wished he had a map. Or a directory.
He’d been on a station before, one of the main ones with a large supply outfitting concourse in the main area and had seen an electronic directory of all the stores, holds and directions to everything else on the station.
He could use one right now.
Letch’s computer docked the ship without a problem, but when the airlock doors whisked open, the captain didn’t move.
Tinker saw he wasn’t breathing.
He checked his pulse and couldn’t find one.
“Huh,” he sighed and tried to muster up a little sadness.
But he barely knew the guy and the truth of it was, he kind of gave him the creeps.
He was glad for the ride, and pretty sure this was where he needed to be, and it was bad the guy was dead, but it was
no big loss to him.
He debated removing the body, but he wasn’t sure what to do with it. Set it up in the airlock dock for someone else to find?
Maybe he could find this guy in charge, Banner and let him know. Then they could give Letch a proper send off, a space funeral.
He took a jar and filled it from the still, sealed it and slipped it into his jacket in case ship hunting turned into thirsty work.
He thought about it and filled a smaller second jar, and a flask too, for the journey back in the NC 17.
He wandered out of the ship and sealed the air lock. If there were any people passing by, he didn’t want them to be startled by the sight of a dead body if they checked the ship.
That had been an hour ago, and so far, he hadn’t seen anyone.
“Guess I was a little too worried about innocent bystanders,” he said out loud, just to hear a voice.
“You should be worried,” one of three men blocked the corridor.
Tinker opened his mouth to answer and made a grunt instead.
The three men blocked the way, but they were standing next to a window that gave an exterior view of the station.
The NC 17 was docked at the next air lock over. It was right there.
Tinker wanted to cry. He wanted to laugh. He felt like jumping in joy.
“My ship,” he managed to say and pointed.
The man in the middle was a head shorter than the two men around him, and about a thousand pounds of muscle less.
His fake hair was parted down the middle, giving him a schoolboy look that didn’t fit with the snarling visage aimed at Tinker.
“What ship?”
“That one right there,” Tinker gushed.
“I don’t see a ship.”
“You just have to turn your head and look,” Tinker explained. “The one outside the window. It’s mine. That’s my ship!”
He didn’t understand why the man wasn’t as excited as he was. Then he remembered that the guy was a thief, or fence and he probably had the wrong idea about Tinker.
“I’m not here to steal it,” he explained as he took a step toward the trio. “See, it’s mine. Someone took my ship from me, so I’m only trying to take it back.”
That got a reaction.
The middle guy nudged the slab of walking muscle on the left.
“He’s just here for his ship,” he laughed.
“Exactly,” said Tinker. “Are you Banner?”
The smile faded.
“Who are you?” Banner asked.
“I’m Tinker,” he took another step closer and held out his hand. “I’m just here to get my property and I’ll get out of your hair.”
He tried not to look at the toupee.
“Toss him out an airlock,” said Banner.
“Wait! Wait!” Tinker shouted as the two men holding his arms began to drag him down the steel corridor.
“What?” Banner called for them to stop.
“Gerald sent me.”
“Who the hell is Gerald?”
“He said mention his name,” Tinker shrugged.
“I don’t know him,” said Banner.
He made a motion with his head for the two thugs to get with it.
“This is a little hasty, isn’t it?” Tinker begged. “I mean, sure, I was trying to take a ship back. But it’s my ship and you stole it from me. I was just trying to take it back, so technically, I wasn’t stealing from you.”
“Toss him,” Banner grunted.
“Hold it,” Tinker screamed. “I didn’t mean you stole it. I mean some asshole brought it here. You probably didn’t even know it was stolen.”
“That asshole was my brother,” said Banner. “You calling my brother an asshole?”
“No, no,” Tinker whined as his feet skidded against the metal plates, searching for traction and failing to find any. “Wait.”
“You got credit?”
“No,” Tinker said.
“Kill him.”
Tinker made a karate sound and jerked both arms from the two mountains holding him.
When that didn’t work, he just went boneless, hoping the sudden sagging of his body would slow them down.
That didn’t work either.
The two men were strong enough to heft him off the deck and carry him.
“I have another ship!” he called out.
“The one you came in?”
“Yeah!” Tinker craned his neck to search out Banner. “You can have it. Just let me go. We can trade. My ship for that one. See, fair and square.”
“Or we could just toss you out and keep them both.”
“Oh,” said Tinker. “I didn’t think of that.”
“Yeah, seems like you don’t do too much thinking.”
“No,” Tinker said. “You’re right. I get in my head and I over think things.”
He continued to struggle as the thugs hoisted him higher and marched toward the air lock.
Tinker could spy the cold dark of space in a viewport they passed by, far off stars pin pricks of white and blue light sparkled against the expanse.
He wondered if he would float forever, if his flash frozen corpse would one day reach a far off star and burn up or just rotate in space.
“Wait, wait, I have a question,” he squirmed.
“What is it this time?”
“Look,” he twisted. “I know you’re going to throw me out there. Is this the first time you’ve done something like that? It doesn’t seem like the first time. You fellas seem like you’ve had some practice with it, some
experience with it.”
“Are you asking if you’re the first bastard to show up out here and try to steal from me?”
“I don’t think I am,” Tinker said.
“You’re damn right you’re not. Lots of guys come out here thinking they’re going to get one over on me. You know where they are?”
Tinker struggled to point to the window.
“That’s right,” Banner smiled a mirthless grin.
“I thought so,” Tinker said. “What happened to them?”
“To who? They went out the airlock,” said Banner.
“Maybe you can ask them,” the thug on the left rumbled.
Tinker realized the man was laughing, though it sounded like a wounded animal wheezing out a final breath.
“Yeah, I know they’re out there,” said Tinker. “But are they still out there? Do they float around here or do they keep going?”
Banner looked at the window, one eyebrow up.
“You know, I don’t know. You two. You seen any bodies floating out there?”
Tinker could feel the two men shrug in unison.
“Guess that’s one of the mysteries of space,” Banner snorted. “Tell you what, you find out, knock on the lock and I’ll let you back in.”
“Do you think they start collecting space dust and become the kernel of a new planet?”
“What?”
“The bodies? Do you think space dust starts to cling to the body and then it just builds up over time and a billion
years from now, it’s a new planet with a dead guy at the center?”
“I don’t think planets are made like that,” said Banner.
“Asteroid?” Tinker said.
“Quit wasting my time,” Banner growled and made a motion with his finger.
The thugs took a step toward the airlock door.
“Hang on,” Tinker shrieked. “Hold it. Can I get one last request?”
“No.”
“Please.”
“I said no,” Banner said.
“One more drink,” Tinker flailed. “I’ll share it with you.”
He tried to move his hand to the pocket in his jacket, but couldn’t reach.
“Put him down,” said Banner. “Check his coat.”
The thug that had laughed at his own joke reached inside Tinker’s coat pocket and pulled out the flask full of moonshine.
