Freedom: A Futuristic Fantasy

by Jim Proctor

  “Considering how long it took for you to get here, the fuel should have been free, too,” Dolus said.

  Turning on Dolus, the young man said, “Begging your pardon, sir, but seeing as my master towed your ass in from certain death out there, all for free gratis, I might add, I’d say the fuel is a bargain.”

  “You are quite right. Please accept my apology for my first mate’s ingratitude. We are deeply indebted to your master for rescuing us,” Venandi said. Turning to Dolus, he said, “Go aboard and prime the fuel injection system. I want to be ready to leave as soon as possible.”

  “Yes, Captain,” Dolus said as he turned and climbed aboard the ship.

  The fuel technician climbed into the truck and started the engine.

  “Do I need to request clearance to depart from here?” Venandi asked the young man.

  “If the sky is clear, and you head to the north, you don’t need clearance. Go north until you’re outside the traffic pattern, and then you can go where you will.”

  “Thank you. Please, excuse my friend’s rude remark. Give my thanks to your master,” Venandi said and then turned and headed toward the gangplank. The fuel truck pulled away and after a wide turn, headed back down the road toward the port.

  Venandi entered the engine room and sat on a bench. Dolus was busy moving levers and fiddling with valves.

  “Almost ready, sir. Just another minute or two, and we’ll be ready to go,” Dolus said.

  “I’ve been thinking, Dolus. If that was Beaph’s airship, he left more than four hours ago. We won’t find him tonight. I think we should go into town to do some shopping. We’ll pick up some supplies, and we’ll ask some questions. We might learn something to our benefit,” Venandi said.

  “All done. Give me a few minutes to wash up, and I’ll be ready to go.”

  Venandi nodded. “I’ll wait for you on deck.”

  * * * *

  Venandi and Dolus walked along the crowded lanes of Port Zebron’s market district. They had been to many ports over the years, but this was the best market they had been to anywhere. Seeing a grocery store, Venandi tapped his partner on the arm and pointed. Dolus nodded and followed him into the store.

  The pair walked up and down the aisles, picking up a few things that they could carry. Eventually, they made their way to the front of the store and piled their goods on the sales counter.

  “Is this everything?” a middle-aged woman asked.

  “I also need four cases of bottled water,” Venandi said.

  Dolus tapped his shoulder and then whispered something.

  “Oh, and a case of toilet tissue, too,” Venandi added. “Can you deliver this stuff?”

  “Sure, no problem. Which pad are you on?” the woman asked.

  “We’re in the field north of the port,” Venandi said.

  “Oh, well… I don’t know if we can deliver there,” she said.

  Venandi sighed. “Let me guess, it costs a lot extra.”

  “No, it’s not that. It’s just, well, our delivery guys use hand trucks. They take goods to the port on foot. We don’t have a delivery truck to get things to the north field,” she explained.

  “I see. Well, do you know anyone who owns a truck who might want to make some extra cash taking this stuff to my ship for me?”

  The woman smiled. “If I owned a truck, I’d deliver for you, honey.”

  Venandi smiled. “That’s very kind of you. However, I assume you don’t own a truck.”

  “I wish I did,” she said. “Still, I’ll take care of it. I’ll have it all there within the hour.”

  Venandi presented his payment card.

  “Oh, Bank of Terrania. What brings you to our lovely port?” she asked.

  “I’m here to visit a friend of mine. We go way back. Maybe you know him. He frequents this port. His name is Angus Beaph.”

  The woman looked thoughtful for a moment. “No, can’t say I know anyone by that name.”

  “He’s a small man, about a meter tall, blond hair, bright blue eyes,” Venandi said.

  “Oh, yes, I know him. He’s a regular customer,” she said.

  “Do you happen to know where he lives?” he asked.

  The woman eyed him suspiciously. “He’s your friend, and you’re asking me where he lives?”

  “We’ve been out of touch for some time,” Venandi said.

  “We don’t discuss our customers’ private information with anyone,” she replied. “You’ll need to find someone to pick up your order. Good luck with that. Good day.”

  “Thank you,” Venandi said as he turned and headed out of the shop.

  “Wow. It seems folks here get a bit touchy when strangers ask questions,” Dolus said as he stepped up beside his boss.

  “So it seems. I’ll have to be more careful with my questions. Still, I did learn one thing. Angus Beaph is a regular customer here.”

  “Oh, right. Good job, boss.”

  “The witch says he loves the ocean, so I’ll bet he lives somewhere along the coast not far from here,” Venandi said.

  “Right. Stands to reason,” Dolus said. “I mean, I wouldn’t get in my airship and fly someplace hours from home just to grocery shop.”

  Venandi nodded and began walking through the market. Dolus hurried after him.

  “Unless I didn’t want anyone to know where I live,” Dolus added.

  Venandi stopped short and looked at him thoughtfully.

  “Did I say something wrong, boss?” Dolus asked.

  Venandi shook his head and began walking again. “We know where he buys groceries. What else would Beaph be likely to buy here regularly?”

  “Alcohol,” Dolus suggested.

  “Excellent idea, Dolus.”

  Stepping into a spirits shop, Venandi casually browsed the beer and wine. He had asked Dolus to wait outside, hoping one stranger would be less intimidating than two.

  “Can I help you, sir?” a man asked.

  “I hope so. My friend’s birthday is coming up, and I was hoping to buy a case of his favorite beer to take to him for the party,” Venandi said.

  “And which brand would that be?” the man asked.

  “You see, that’s the problem. He told me, but I forgot. I should have written it down.”

  “I see. Well, I can suggest a few very good brands,” the man said.

  “No, he was very specific. It had to be his favorite brand. It’s his birthday, after all. I can’t take him something else,” Venandi said. “Perhaps you know my friend. Angus Beaph is his name.”

  The spirits shop owner smiled and nodded. “Mr. Beaph is one of my regular customers. His favorite brand is Gordon’s Gold Ribbon.”

  Venandi smiled. “Yes! That’s it. Thank you. Gordon’s Gold Ribbon. I’d like to buy two cases. Can you have it delivered to my airship? It’s in the emergency landing field.”

  The shop owner’s smile vanished in a flash. “I can deliver to the platforms, but not to the north field.”

  “Oh. I see. Well, I can pay extra for your trouble,” the bounty hunter said.

  “I’m sorry. I just don’t have anyone who can carry it that far,” the man said.

  “Well, let me work on that problem. Maybe I can arrange for a truck to take all my purchases to my ship later. I’ll come back for the beer. Thank you.”

  “My pleasure, sir. I’m really very sorry I can’t help you,” the man said.

  “It’s quite all right. I’ll arrange for a driver, and then I’ll come and pick up the beer. Thank you for your assistance,” Venandi said as he turned and exited the shop.

  Looking around, he spotted Dolus and headed toward him.

  “Beaph is a regular customer there, too. We’ll catch him, Dolus. We’re going to be rich.”

  Dolus smiled. “I’d like that… to be rich, I mean. I’ve never been rich.”

  “Me neither, my friend. We’ll learn what it’s like to be rich together,” Venandi said, patting Dolus on the back.

  “Are we done
here?” Dolus asked.

  Venandi looked thoughtful for a moment. “No. I want to find out something more about the port master, Captain Watson.”

  “What do you want to know about him for?” Dolus asked.

  “He went to great lengths to make us think that was his ship towing us, and that it’s tucked away, out of sight in some hangar now,” Venandi said. “Now, why would he do that? That’s the question I’ve been wrestling with since we got here.”

  “Well, maybe he’s a close friend of Beaph’s,” Dolus said.

  “Yes, I believe that to be true. However, that alone doesn’t explain anything. Why would he feel the need to hide Angus Beaph from us? The only explanation I can come up with is that Beaph was on that airship, and somehow he knew we were after him.”

  “But we never saw him once. Plus, he don’t know us from Adam, sir. Even if he caught sight of us, how would he know we were after him?”

  Venandi frowned. “Because he’s a wizard, Dolus. The witch told me. Maybe he has some special powers of perception. I don’t know. Anyway, I think he was spooked, and he had his friend cover for him.”

  “Wait a minute. If he’s a wizard, how are we supposed to capture him? He could… turn us into frogs, or something.”

  “I don’t think we need to worry about that, Dolus. The witch said he can’t do anything harmful to us.”

  “According to you, that witch does plenty of bad things to people. It’s practically her hobby. I don’t see what’s to keep this Beaph fella from doing the same to us,” Dolus objected.

  “He’s not like her. She said they’re like opposites. He can only use his magic for good.”

  “Yes, well, if I were him and we were after him, I’d figure turning us into frogs would be a pretty good thing,” Dolus said.

  Venandi nodded. “I see your point. However, the witch assured me he won’t do anything to harm us. If we present him with adequate force, he’ll come with us.”

  “I don’t see why. I wouldn’t. Your ass would be a frog at the first sign of force, begging your pardon, sir,” Dolus said.

  Venandi laughed. “Trust me.”

  “So, what you’re saying is, you trust that black witch with your life,” Dolus said.

  Venandi sighed. “No, of course I don’t. However, she wants Beaph and his cumulus, whatever that is. She’s been after it for a long time. She isn’t going through all this trouble just to see us turned into frogs.”

  “Okay, but maybe she’s never got him because a couple of frogs can’t drag him back to Terrania!” Dolus said.

  Venandi opened his mouth to reply, but found he had no words to say. Dolus had a point, he had to admit. Finally, he said, “Let’s not bother finding out about this port master. Let’s just find someone with a truck who’s willing to take our goods to the ship.”

  * * * *

  The sun was below the trees when the truck rolled to a stop near the gangplank. Venandi opened the door and climbed out. Walking to the back of the truck, he met Dolus, who was just jumping down from the truck bed.

  “Do you want any help getting things aboard?” the driver asked.

  “No, just help us unload here,” Venandi said.

  The three men quickly unloaded the truck.

  Venandi handed the driver two gold coins.

  The young man looked at them, eyes wide. “Wow! Thanks, mister. Hey, if you ever need a delivery again, you know where to find me!”

  Venandi nodded. “Thank you.”

  The man climbed back into the truck and drove away. Dolus was already lugging a box of groceries up the gangplank. Venandi picked up two cases of beer and followed.

  “Are we heading out tonight?” Dolus asked as they headed down the steps to the galley.

  “I think we’ll wait until morning. I have something I want to check on tonight,” Venandi said. “After we get this stuff stowed, I’m going out for a while.”

  “What, alone?”

  “Yes, Dolus, alone. You keep an eye on the ship. I’ll be gone for a couple of hours,” the captain said.

  “Very well, sir,” Dolus said.

  * * * *

  Venandi walked across the field and down the road to the port. He strode casually past the pads, occasionally stopping to chat with a captain or a deck hand, though he didn’t learn much. Mainly, he was killing time, waiting for the full darkness of night after the dock hands went home and the crews boarded their ships for the night. Then, making his way through the port and past the control tower, he reached the grass-covered dunes.

  The dark shape of a hangar lay directly ahead. Lights from the port owner’s home dimly lit the front of the hangar, but Venandi kept to the deep shadows behind the structure. Dim light shone out through a small window in the back wall. Reaching the hangar, he slipped along the wall until he stood beside the window. He risked a peek through the window, looking around for any sign of movement. The building seemed to be unoccupied. Directly ahead was the hull of an airship. In the dim light, he couldn’t see much detail. The bow of the ship was facing him. Looking up, the envelope of the balloon was lost in darkness. He needed to know if this was the ship that had towed them to port. Going around to the front of the hangar to see the aft of the ship was out of the question. There was too much light on that side. He could go back to his ship without the answer to his question, or he could break into the hangar.

  Venandi pulled on the window. It remained closed. Moving slowly along the wall, he came to a locked door. Pulling out his pocketknife, he slipped it between the door and the jamb and fiddled with the latch. To his astonishment, the door popped open. Pulling the door slowly, the hinges creaked loudly. The trick he had learned as a teenager coming home after curfew was that the best way to open a door with squeaky hinges was to yank the door open quickly while lifting on the knob. He held his breath and yanked the door open wide. No alarm sounded. No guard shouted. The hangar was silent. Leaving the door open to facilitate a quick exit if necessary, he stepped inside and looked around. Crossing the open space quickly, he threw himself to the floor up against the hull. Then, crawling on his belly, he made his way toward the stern of the ship. Moving out away from the hull, he looked up. The port propeller was directly above him. He saw the narrow housing and the chain drive leading into the ship’s hull. This was a diesel airship.

  Moving back to the hull, he crawled along the floor to the bow. The sound of a key being slipped into a lock echoed around the huge room. Venandi sprinted across the open floor, ran through the door, and continued into the dark dunes and grass, leaving the door wide open. Better for them to find the open door several minutes from now and wonder why it was open than to hear it close and come running immediately to check it out.

  Near the control tower, he dropped to the ground, then crawled to the top of a dune and risked a look back. The hangar lights were on, a golden strip of light illuminating the sand outside the door. Crouching low, he turned and moved farther away, working his way back toward the port. He passed the control tower and the entrance to the operations office. Standing up, he began walking casually toward the port.

  Dolus jumped off his stool when Venandi opened the wheelhouse door and stepped inside.

  “You scared the daylights out of me, sir.”

  “Some lookout you are,” the captain said with a smile.

  “Well, sir, I wasn’t expecting anyone to come sneaking up on me,” Dolus said. “Anyway, did you find what you were looking for?”

  “Indeed, I did. That airship that towed us to port did not belong to Captain Watson, as he said.”

  “Then it really was Beaph’s ship,” Dolus said.

  “I think so. It certainly wasn’t Watson’s.”

  Dolus nodded. “And the only explanation for lying about it was to cover for Angus Beaph.”

  “That is the most likely explanation,” Venandi said. “Come. Let’s get some sleep. Tomorrow, we search for Angus Beaph.”

  Chapter 18

  Jazeen walked toward th
e hotel carrying four bags of groceries. It was Friday night, and she was feeling proud of herself. She was living on her own and had worked a full week at her first job. Looking at the sky, she wished Angus were coming to pick her up. His fishing trip would last a few more days, she knew, so it would be next weekend before she saw him.

  As she crossed the hotel lobby, the din coming from the restaurant indicated they were busy. She had been planning to go to her room and then come back down for a quick dinner, but she decided against it. Taking the elevator to the second floor, she went to her room and put her groceries away. After turning on the shower, she went to the dresser and laid out jeans and a comfy shirt.

  The bathroom was steamy when she entered and slipped out of her work clothes. After adjusting the water temperature, she stepped under the spray. The steam was a blessed change from the dry, air-conditioned mall, and she inhaled deeply. The hot water felt wonderful as it ran over her tired body. Soon, hunger reminded her she couldn’t remain in the shower forever. She washed and shampooed, then enjoyed a last moment under the hot water before stepping out and wrapping herself in a towel.

  Dinner was uninspiring. Jazeen was a good cook, and she liked to cook when there were others to enjoy her labors with her. Cooking for herself wasn’t the same. So many of her favorite dishes simply weren’t practical to make in small portions, especially in this tiny kitchenette.

  Turning on the television, she climbed into bed, propped herself up with pillows, and ate as she flipped through the channels.

  Several minutes later, there was a knock at her door. Jazeen set her plate on the nightstand and quietly crossed the room. Looking through the peephole, she saw two police officers. Her heart raced as an officer knocked again. She hooked the chain onto the door and opened it a crack.

  “Can I help you, officers?” she asked.

  “I’m Lieutenant Pierce and this is officer Brown. Are you Jazeen Florence?”

  “I am,” she said.

  “We’re following up on a missing person’s report. Your parents reported you missing last week, and we’ve been looking for you,” the lieutenant said.

  “You can tell my parents that I’m fine. Thank you for checking on me,” she said.