by George Ellis
“Hello, young man,” he said, a flirting tone in his voice. We shook hands and he let the shake and the eye contact linger. “If all wreckers were this handsome, I’d sabotage my barge more often!”
I chuckled nervously and withdrew my hand. I knew I had to get used to being judged by my age, but this guy was more interested in my looks. Flattering, but not what I was looking for at the moment.
“I’m Jameson, but everyone calls me Sky,” he said. I didn’t bother to ask for the details on that one. “You are Denver, correct?”
He explained that the barge had lost propulsion earlier in the week. It wasn’t a critical situation as the power and life support systems were still functioning, and the skiffs could be used to transport people to and from Mars. The issue was one of code.
“Each day, the federation fines us for not being in compliance with the laws regarding vessels of our type. We have to maintain the ability to travel at least 500 miles per hour, even though we never really travel anywhere!” he complained. “Those feds. They could use a little more Port Lauderdale if you ask me.”
As he led me to the engine room, we passed through various areas of the mostly-empty ship. First, there was the dance club. A disco ball hung from the ceiling, slowly spinning. It was kind of sad. The bartender relaxed behind the counter, enjoying a cocktail and watching what sounded like a Purple on her handheld. She didn’t even notice us as we clicked across the wood floor and moved into the main dining hall, which was fashioned after ancient German beer gardens. Long, wooden benches on either side of a thick table. The few passengers that were still aboard seemed to be gathered here, trying to make the most of the conditions (party barges were notorious for being jam-packed with people, and when they weren’t, much of the vibe was lost). Most of them were my age or slightly older, but they all looked worse for the wear. Like maybe they’d been on the barge a few days too long. I didn’t envy their eventual crashes.
They drank beer from large steins. I was jealous about that part.
Sky noticed this and grinned. “Perhaps after you fix the engines, we can lure you into staying for a few days. You seem like you could use a vacation.”
Before I could answer, Sky swung the double-doors open and we were in a long red corridor. It was only wide enough for two people to squeeze through. The walls were lined with velvet and there were small couches positioned every 10 feet. It was dimly lit and trancing music was piped in. I didn’t have much trouble imagining what kind of debauchery went on in this particular hallway. But if I had, the videos on the screens throughout the corridor provided plenty of inspiration.
“This is the only way to the engine room?” I asked.
Sky gave me a mischievous look as we exited the hallway and finally made our way into the maintenance area of the ship. We reached the engine room, which was presided over by a tall guy with gray hair. He was dozing in a chair in the corner.
“That’s our maintenance engineer, Mickey,” said Sky as he checked the time. “Yep, it’s his mid-morning nap. Well, I will leave you to it. How long do you think you’ll be?”
I hadn’t even looked at the engine yet. Under normal circumstances, I would have been annoyed by the ship’s engineer being so lazy. Considering it was my first solo job, I didn’t mind him sleeping in the room as I worked. It meant I had a low bar to clear. Besides, one look at the engine and I knew it wouldn’t take long to diagnose the problem. If I got lucky, it wouldn’t require new parts.
“I’ll let you know once I’ve had a good look. Where will you be?” I asked.
“The beer hall, most likely. Just wake up Mickey here to give me a buzz.”
* * *
I diagnosed the problem fairly quickly and estimated about a day’s work would get the engine going again. I stirred Mickey so he could let Sky know I would be done in 8-10 hours. The old man was angry that I woke him up, but reluctantly passed along the message.
I headed back to the Stang to collect the proper tools. When I reached the beer hall, it was packed with more people. Men and women in blue suits, to be exact.
Feds.
At least 15 of them were seated at the long table in the middle of the hall, and a few more stood and talked nearby. I kept my eyes locked ahead and almost made it out the door when I heard a voice behind me.
“Hey kid, where are you off to with that toolbox?” he asked. I turned to see a fat, half-drunk soldier glaring back at me. He had a bandage across the bridge of his nose and the areas underneath his eyes were swollen. A few of the blue suits near him also looked over at me. One or two of them had some fresh injuries as well.
“Just grabbing a few more things,” I said, trying to end the conversation quickly. It didn’t work. The guy swigged more of his drink and then tilted his head at me.
“That your ship out there?” he asked.
“A lot of ships out there,” I replied.
“You being a smartass, boy?”
“No, just stating the obvious. There are at least six or seven ships out there.”
“The one with the chrome, tough guy. The wrecker ship. What’s it called, again?”
“The Mustang,” another fed answered. “Checked the call sign on the way in. He’s that wrecker that towed the North Star from Mars to Earth.”
“That was my uncle, actually,” I clarified.
The second fed hiked his shoulders. “Same difference.”
I decided to walk out before I said anything I was going to regret. They could try to intimidate me all they wanted, but I hadn’t done anything wrong, so they couldn’t stop me. I checked over my shoulder as I walked across the docking bay, but no feds were following me. Sky hustled up behind me, worried.
“Please hurry with the fix,” he begged.
“What do you care? You got your wish. A bunch of blue suits chillin’ in Port Lauderdale.”
Sky shook his head. “I was speaking theoretically, of course. As in, the feds need to remove the crowbars from their asses and loosen up. But they’re actually here now and they’ll ruin my numbers for the month unless you fix the engine soon so they have no reason to stay.”
I gave a blank look. I wasn’t entirely sure what he was trying to tell me.
“Feds are great at running up a large tab,” he said. “Paying that tab is another matter.”
Sky hurried back inside to keep an eye on the feds. My uncle always complained that the feds rarely paid their bills, and even more rarely did so in a timely manner when you could actually pry the credits from them. It turned out that rule applied to everyone, not just wreckers.
Their ship was actually docked right next to mine. It was a T-Class 405 Cruiser, the workhorse of the federation fleet. Piece of junk, if you asked me. They should just strip them all for parts, shove them into the void and start over.
“I see our friends in blue have joined the party,” Gary remarked as I boarded the Stang. “Be sure not to mention any of your illegal activities.”
I stopped what I was doing and looked at the nearest camera. “What?”
“What do you mean, what?” Gary asked.
“None of my activities are illegal,” I said. “Are they?”
After he finished laughing, Gary explained that I was breaking a variety of laws at any given time.
“Such as?”
“Operating without a license. Engaging in unsanctioned warfare. Failing to report unsanctioned warfare. Tax evasion. Treason.”
“Treason?!”
“It’s a gray area, but if the feds wanted, they could probably interpret the time you and your uncle fixed that refugee ship as an act of treason against the federation, and therefore both Earth and Mars,” Gary said.
“They were refugees,” I argued. “Trying to escape oppression.”
“Who do you think they were running from? You call it oppression. The feds call it taxes.”
My uncle had told me being an independent was risky business, but he didn’t have time to explain just how many laws we were bre
aking if anyone cared to look more closely. And the feds cared, especially if you made them angry. Part of me wanted to just forget about fixing the barge and get out of there. But I knew I couldn’t. I needed the credits. And besides, if I wanted to be a wrecker and handle jobs on my own, I was going to have to deal with the feds all the time. I decided to just mind my business, get the damn engine working, and then quietly head to the next job.
I went to the Stang’s tool shop and began loading what I’d need to fix the stalled barge.
* * *
The repairs only took five hours. Maybe I was working more quickly because I wanted to be on my way, but I had the engine up and running in less than four hours, then spent a little time making sure it wouldn’t break down again anytime soon. My uncle told me the best way to get new jobs was by reputation and referral. Do good work and word travels fast. Be sloppy and word travels even faster. The Stang already had some credibility. I wanted to build my own.
Sky thanked me and offered to pay part of the bill in services. He said I could have my pick of the crew. “Everybody who works at Port Lauderdale is available for hire, including myself,” he told me. “We are very skilled.”
I thanked him for the offer, but said credits would be fine. He was disappointed. He got over it quickly, however, and immediately transferred the credits into my account, including a generous 15% tip for getting the job done sooner than promised.
Having collected payment, I was feeling pretty good about my first completed job. I thought my uncle would be proud of me. I was enjoying that feeling of accomplishment when I saw the blue suit standing between me and the Stang.
It was the same guy that had given me a hard time earlier. The one with the raccoon eyes. He had a grin on his face that spelled trouble.
“Come with us,” he said. That’s when I noticed the other two feds standing behind me.
They escorted me onto the 405 Cruiser. I wasn’t being detained, they assured me, but they did want to discuss something with me. I could already tell I wasn’t going to like the subject of the conversation. The main asshole who did all the talking introduced himself as Chief Waters. The other two didn’t say a word. They just kept sipping from their oversized Port Lauderdale plastic cups.
Great, I thought. They weren’t just feds – they were buzzed feds and clearly not worried about their superior officers at the moment.
“So, Denver, it seems you’ve been operating without a proper license,” Waters said as we reached the ship’s kitchen. “Your ship has the proper credentials, but the wrecker license belonged to your uncle. We could fine and detain you for that.”
“But you’re not because?” I asked.
He motioned to the kitchen. It was a mess. There was food everywhere. Some of the appliances were knocked over. And I was pretty sure that was a streak of blood on the wall. I put two and two together and realized there had been a brawl of some kind on the ship.
“Need you to fix the recycler and the fridge for us. Do that and we’ll ignore the license issue,” he said.
“I’m not exactly an expert on recyclers or kitchen appliances,” I explained. “I fix engines.”
“Then that sucks for you, because our engine isn’t what needs fixing,” Waters said. It was clear if I didn’t do what he wanted, I was going to owe the feds a decent amount of credits.
“I’ll take a look.”
“Perfect!” he said, slapping me on the back, hard. “Hey maybe clean up a bit when you’re done, too, kid.”
I steamed as he strutted out of the kitchen. The two silent feds sat down at a table in the corner and lazily sipped their fruity drinks, watching me with satisfaction.
The fridge was simple, but by the time I got done fixing the recycler, I was too tired to deal with the mess. It had taken four hours and a lot of research in addition to the manual labor. One of the feds had gone back to Port Lauderdale to party, while the one that was left to supervise me was half-asleep.
“It’s done,” I said. “You can find someone to clean the damn mess.”
The fed was about to object, but he was pretty woozy, so I just walked past him, not giving him a chance to object. “I’ll show myself out.”
When I stepped off the ship, the party barge was back to nearly full capacity. Once I’d fixed the engine earlier in the day, Sky must have immediately begun ferrying revelers back to the barge from Roman Landing. I was going to just head straight from the 405 to the Stang and get the hell out of there, but as I walked toward my ship, I heard a commotion nearby. Two feds were arguing with a girl about my age. One of the soldiers was holding her by the arm. She was trying to wriggle free but he wouldn’t let go, despite her repeatedly smacking him. Finally, he smacked her right back, a glancing blow across the face.
Before he had a chance to hit her again, I planted my boot in his back and sent him flying into a nearby wall. His buddy turned and swung at me, but I took it on the chin (it was a weak punch) and swung my entire toolbox across his face. I actually saw a few teeth fly loose when he spun to the ground.
“Look out!” the girl shouted as the first fed grabbed me from behind. Luckily, the girl was ready this time. She told me to duck, which I did, and then she unleashed a full two seconds of pepper spray directly into the guy’s eyes. He instantly let go of me and clutched his face, staggering backwards in pain.
I grabbed the girl’s hand and pulled her a few steps toward the Stang. Then I stopped. Amidst the throng of partiers, I could see a group of blue suits looking right at us. They were standing by the gangway to my ship.
“C’mon, this way,” I said, urging her to follow me into the beer hall.
“Wait, who the hell are you?” she asked. A fair question, of course.
“Name’s Denver. You coming with me or you wanna deal with a whole swarm of those assholes?”
“Let’s go. I’m Debra,” she said with a toss of her dark brown hair and a gorgeous smile.
Together, we made our way through the throng of people and into the hall. The place was packed and the dim lights made it a little easier to disappear. We pushed our way through the crowd, passing a couple feds who obviously weren’t looking for us yet.
“Why are you here?” Debra yelled in my ear over the din.
“I’m a wrecker,” I said without turning back to see her reaction. That job title usually didn’t impress people much.
“Cool!” I heard her say. I looked back, surprised, and she was smiling again. She had a little blood from the cut on her cheek where the fed had hit her. I grabbed someone’s drink napkin as we passed and handed it to her. She pressed it against the scrape.
I let my gaze linger a bit too long. Before I could watch where I was going, I had run smack into something hard. At first I assumed it was a wall, but then I turned to see a blue uniform. I tilted my head up and saw the tallest, biggest federation soldier I’d ever seen standing directly in my path. He calmly grabbed me with one hand and spoke into his handheld with the other.
“I got the kid and the girl,” he said. “You messed up now, boy.”
I gave him a swift elbow in the gut. It had no effect. When I tried to swing my toolbox up, he merely batted it away like it was a fly. Debra tried for her pepper spray again, but the guy saw it and shoved her so hard to the ground, it sent the canister tumbling into the mess of drunken legs of the revelers. Gone.
I looked over my shoulder and saw more feds fighting through the crowd toward us. We were screwed. I tried to think of a way out, but the fed was too damn strong – he had me in a vice grip. Then, I caught a glimpse of Sky’s eyes across the hall. He was standing behind the bar and quickly understood my situation.
He snatched a microphone hanging from the wall. “Drinks free for the next five minutes! Happy Friday everyone!” he shouted into the mic. The place immediately erupted with cheers and a massive push of people toward the bar. While I alone wasn’t strong enough to overcome the huge fed, a hundred people were. His grip loosened just enough that I was
able to snake my body free. I dropped to the floor and crawled toward the exit, Debra right behind me.
We crossed the threshold and found ourselves in the red corridor. Like the beer hall, it was more crowded than the last time I came through. Debra and I stood up and began snaking our way past couples and triples and at least one quartet of people in various states of ecstasy. Some were naked. Others in the process of getting there.
We got about 30 feet into the corridor when I heard a commotion behind us. A couple feds were following us, ruining the fun for everyone. As we passed a threesome of people that had already disrobed, Debra grabbed their clothes and pulled me into an alcove.
“Here, put this on,” she said, handing me a gray cloak. Then she expertly pulled on the pink jumpsuit in her other hand and pushed me down onto the couch. Before I knew it, she had climbed on top of me and was kissing me, hiding both of our faces from anyone not looking too closely. I wasn’t about to complain. The kiss started out as an act, but soon, her lips softened and we found ourselves moving in rhythm to the thumping music in the corridor. For a second, I lost myself in the moment and forgot we were even in danger. All that I was thinking about was the way she smelled and the press of her body against mine. I reached my hand around her back and pulled her closer. She did the same and soon we were just another couple in the corridor enjoying ourselves. I honestly didn’t even care if I got caught at that point. Whatever the feds did to me would have been worth it.
After maybe a minute that felt like the best hour of my life, Debra licked my lips one last time and pulled back to peek around. No feds. She looked back at me and we just sat there for a moment. Her hand had been resting on my chest, and I knew she could feel my heart beating rapidly under the gray cloak she’d given me to wear. She leaned back in for another kiss, this one a slow, gentle affair. Finally, our lips parted.
“Thank you Denver, but I should probably get back to my husband,” she said.
It felt like someone had stuck me in the heart with a knife. She saw the look on my face and laughed.
