Hal Spacejock Omnibus One

by Simon Haynes

  Hal gathered his spoils, and together they made their way through the spaceport to the departure gates.

  *

  The space elevator carried them back to Plessa's Orbiter without incident, and Hal and Clunk boarded the Luna Rose and made their way to the staff room. A few minutes later they were back in uniform.

  "How do I look?" asked Hal, setting his cap on a rakish angle.

  "Excellent. Very smart."

  "I feel like a doorman."

  "You look more like an undertaker." Clunk picked Hal's flight suit off the floor and shook it out, dislodging half a dozen sweet wrappers. "You've got chocolate stains on this."

  Hal nodded. "And I intend to add more."

  There was a rumbling noise below decks as the liner began to move. Moments later, the first call light came on, quickly followed by several more. Hal glanced up at the board, then shook his head. "It's going to be a long trip back," he muttered.

  Chapter 14

  The Luna Rose docked at the Cathuan Orbiter and Hal slipped out while Spearman was busy fielding customer service complaints. There was no point lining up for their wages, because once Clunk worked out the value of all the drinks and snacks Hal had given away, they'd ended up owing more than they'd earned.

  Hal strode up the boarding tunnel behind Clunk, his hands in his pockets to still the clinking silverware. Since they were getting nothing for the trip, he'd paid a visit to the first class lounge and souvenired a few sets of monogrammed cutlery for the Volante, but his large pockets meant it rattled with every step. Now and then Clunk paused to listen, and Hal had to cough loudly to cover the tinkling noises.

  Clanking, pausing and coughing, they navigated the Orbiter's tunnels to the ferry terminal where they found a bored attendant sitting behind a screen. Hal left Clunk gazing at Cathua through a porthole and went over to get tickets.

  The man looked up at his approach. "Sorry, mate. There's no service."

  "What do you mean, no service? Where's the shuttle?"

  "Power cuts. It's stuck on the ground and they can't refuel it."

  "There's no backup?" Hal spread his hands, jingling slightly. "What kind of tinpot operation is this?"

  The attendant shrugged.

  "There must be another way down."

  "Like a space elevator, you mean?"

  Hal brightened. "You have one of those?"

  "Nope."

  Hal turned away in disgust.

  "How did you get on?" asked Clunk, tearing his gaze from the planet spread out below.

  "We're stuffed. No shuttle and no elevator."

  "There has to be a way down."

  "Sure, we could rent a spaceship. Pity two hundred other passengers thought of it first."

  "We'll just have to settle in for the night, then."

  Hal jerked his thumb at the window. "What about my cargo? It's not getting any fresher."

  "Don't worry about that. My temporary repairs will keep it safe for now."

  "Hang on. If we're stuck up here, where am I going to sleep?"

  "Why don't we return to the Luna Rose?"

  Hal snapped his fingers. "That's it! That's how we get down!"

  "The Luna Rose won't take us to the surface. It's not built for planetary —"

  "Not the Luna Rose, the X1!"

  "The Phantom?" Clunk frowned. "They impounded it."

  "So what? It brought us up here, it can take us down again."

  "What about the five thousand credit bond?"

  "Five or fifty, we're not paying."

  "We're not?"

  "Of course we're not." Hal lowered his voice. "Listen up. Here's the plan …"

  *

  Hal pulled the cap over his eyes, adjusted his overalls and straightened his collar. "Set?"

  "My hat's too small," said Clunk.

  "Rip it up the back."

  Clunk took the cap off his head and wrenched the fabric apart. "I don't see how this outfit is going to help."

  "It's part of the plan, all right?"

  "No, it's not all right. You haven't told me what we're going to do."

  "We're going to board the X1, start the engines and fly away from the Orbiter."

  "That's your plan?" Clunk stared at him. "What about security? What about the fine? What about -?"

  "We can sort out the minor details later. Come on, put the cap on and follow me."

  "But Mr Spacejock —"

  "And try to look a bit more human."

  Clunk let his face go slack.

  "A live one would be better," said Hal. "Now stick your hands in your pockets, stay behind me and don't say anything." With that, he pushed open the door and stepped into the office.

  There were four desks crammed into the tiny space, each with a yellowed terminal and teetering piles of paperwork. Three of the chairs were empty, while the fourth was occupied by a small man in a faded blue uniform. He was picking out keys one by one with the tip of a pen, pausing to peer at the screen every three or four letters.

  Hal watched for a minute or two, then cleared his throat. "Bill asked me to move that Phantom jobby," he said, waving a folded sheet of paper.

  The man looked up. "Bill who?"

  "You know, in Accounts."

  "There are no Bills in Accounts."

  "Where else would you keep them? Ha ha."

  The man looked at Hal in distaste. "I'm short staffed, short on space and short tempered. State your business or clear off and leave me to mine."

  Hal tapped the folded paper. "I told you, I've got to move that ship. Records says it's in the wrong place, Accounts need the serial number, Enforcement wants —"

  "I'm Enforcement," said the man, drawing himself up.

  "Of course you are. So, to keep all these people happy I need to move the ship."

  "Where to?"

  "Round the other side," said Hal, gesturing vaguely. "Military want her for target practice."

  "Really?"

  Hal nodded.

  "Okay, take it away." The man gestured at a pile of paperwork. "Leave the forms there."

  "I can't. Records want them back."

  "Leave the forms or leave my office."

  Hal glanced down at the folded sheet of paper in his hands, which featured a glamorous photo of the Luna Rose on the cover. "Right on this pile, here?" he said, approaching one of the desks.

  "Right there."

  Hal nudged the pile, tipping the whole lot onto the floor.

  "You clumsy oaf!" shouted the man. "Look what you've done!"

  "Oh, sorry," murmured Hal. He crouched down and began to gather handfuls of paper, mixing them up at random.

  "No, no, no!" shouted the man, leaping up. He charged over and snatched the crumpled pages from Hal's fingers. "You're making things worse," he snarled. "Go on, clear out."

  Hal glanced at Clunk and nodded towards the inner door. The robot took the hint, and as the man gathered papers, smoothed them and arranged them into some kind of order, Hal stood up and followed.

  Beyond the door, a short flight of steps led down to a corridor with numbered access tubes. They hurried along the corridor, peering through the airlock doors until they spotted the Phantom. They cycled the airlock and passed into the bay, finding the ship just as they'd left it, with the door open and the ramp extended. Hal and Clunk hurried up the landing ramp and entered the ship, their feet scrunching on the chips of woodgrain covering the deck.

  "That was pretty easy," said Hal, taking the pilot's chair.

  "We're not out yet," cautioned the robot. "Computer, give me a status report."

  "Get it yourself."

  Frowning, Clunk applied himself to the console. A minute or two later, he turned to Hal. "Everything appears to be in order."

  "Okay, let's go."

  "There's just one minor impediment." Clunk nodded at the screen. "The docking bay doors are closed."

  "Can we open them from here?"

  "No, and the controls are on the other side of the airlock."


  Hal frowned. "I'd call that a major problem."

  "Not really. I'll go back through the airlock and open the bay doors. As long as you leave the outer door open, I can return to the ship."

  "Go on, then." Hal watched on the main screen as Clunk made his way to the airlock. The round door opened and closed, and a few moments later the red light turned to green. Hal panned the camera back to the rust-streaked bay doors and waited impatiently for them to open.

  "Incoming," said the computer suddenly.

  The speakers hissed and popped. "Orbiter to Phantom-X1, come in please."

  Hal frowned. "Yes?"

  "Phantom, are you trying to open the docking bay?"

  "That's the idea," said Hal cautiously.

  "I'm sorry, I can't let you do it."

  "But I've got to move the ship! Bill said —"

  "Listen buddy, from where I'm sitting I can see right into your flight deck."

  Hal turned to face the airlock. It was wide open, and halfway up the docking bay wall a uniformed figure was waving at him from behind a reinforced window. "That's it, you're getting the idea," said the speaker gently. "First you seal the ship and THEN YOU LET THE GODDAMN AIR OUT OF THE DOCKING BAY!"

  Hal gulped. "Thanks. I'll deal with it."

  "Bloody throttle jockeys," growled the caller. There was a burst of static as he hung up.

  Hal pushed the fire axe aside and activated the airlock seal with shaking fingers. As the green light came on, he felt the deck tremble and heard the whistling scream of air being sucked from the docking bay.

  The bay doors groaned and squealed until they were completely retracted, revealing stars as bright and hard as diamonds. Hal panned the camera and saw Clunk entering the bay through the airlock. At the same time, the screen flashed and a huge, angry face appeared. It was the man from the Enforcement office.

  "Get off that ship this instant!" shouted the man. He waved the Luna Rose brochure. "I knew there was something fishy about you. Thought you could fool me, eh? Took me for a sucker, eh?"

  Hal slid his hand along the console until he found the throttle control, and as Clunk stepped into the flight deck he pushed the lever forward to the stop. There was a roar from the engines followed by a louder roar from the screen. "Get rid of him," shouted Hal, as the ship began to move.

  Clunk crossed to the console and flipped a switch, killing the display. Suddenly there was a grating noise, clearly audible over the roar of the engines.

  "They're closing the bay doors!" shouted Hal. "Quick, get us out of here!"

  Clunk pulled the afterburner knob and the ship exploded from the bay, squeezing between the enormous doors with centimetres to spare. The tremendous acceleration threw Hal to the back of the hold, slamming him into the bulkhead, and the fire axe slipped from the console and came spinning towards him, end over end. He ducked, barely in time, and it buried itself in the bulkhead with a loud THUNK!

  Then they were clear, rocketing away from the Orbiter.

  "Another narrow escape," said Hal, eyeing the quivering axe.

  "They may come after us." Clunk's fingers danced over the console. "Hold on, I'm going to put them off our trail."

  "How?"

  The ship heeled over. "First we go around the planet. Then we'll enter low orbit for the night, and in the morning we can land right next to the Volante. With a bit of luck, they'll assume we're local traffic."

  Hal looked around the cramped flight deck. "I don't fancy spending the night up here."

  "I don't think we can land in darkness. The spaceport beacons are down and this ship is ill-equipped for unassisted landings."

  "I heard that," said the computer.

  Hal frowned. "I've got a bad feeling about this. My head's light and my feet feel like lead."

  "That's probably the gravity generators, Mr Spacejock. They're a bit flaky."

  "What a surprise."

  "Now, you must want something to eat."

  "Not just yet," said Hal, looking pained.

  Clunk looked around. "And where's that box of yours? The one with all the sweets?"

  "I left it on the Luna Rose. Empty."

  "You ate the whole lot!" exclaimed Clunk. "No wonder you look ill."

  "I don't look ill," said Hal sharply. "I feel fine. On top of the world."

  "What you need is some real food. There's not much aboard, but I did see a carton of instant pizzas."

  Hal groaned.

  "Or how about some nice thick vegetable soup with extra carrot?"

  "Will you shut up about food?" said Hal desperately. "All I need is a sleep."

  "Very well. Let me make you up a bed in the hold."

  "Old rags and a metal floor? I can't wait."

  "It's not my fault. All the bedclothes were in those suitcases. You know, the ones you wouldn't let me bring."

  Hal sighed.

  "Don't worry, Mr Spacejock. One of my previous owners had a saying for times like this."

  "Yeah? What was it?"

  "When life is getting you down, have a nap."

  "That's not much of a saying."

  "Strictly between the two of us, he wasn't much of an owner."

  Hal smiled weakly. "All right, crack out the sheets and I'll take his advice."

  Chapter 15

  Next morning, Jasmin took a cab to the spaceport. As it approached the landing field she saw two ships in the distance, one a rust-streaked wreck and the other a brand new freighter. She'd already decided the older ship had to be the Volante when she saw Barry and Ace sitting near the new one. The men were slouched on a couple of olive green boxes, which had dark patches where the serial numbers had been painted over. Put up a couple of signs, thought Jasmin idly, and they could open an army surplus store on the spot. Hadn't they heard of subterfuge?

  The cabbie stopped next to the passenger ramp and cast his eye over the men and equipment. "Planning a war, eh?"

  "We're going on a fishing trip," said Jasmin shortly.

  The cabbie snorted, but turned it into a cough when Jasmin handed him a large tip. "Thanks miss. Hope you catch a big 'un."

  Jasmin got out and watched the cabbie drive away, thinking it was just as well he'd been fooled by her deception. Silencing him could have been messy.

  "There you are!" called Barry. "Thought you said eleven?"

  "I did. It's five to."

  Barry scowled at Ace. "You and that bleeding watch. I told you it was dodgy."

  "It works mostly, 'cept when it's brass monkeys."

  "You were had, sunshine. They saw you coming a mile away."

  Jasmin watched the exchange, baffled. The men were discussing a timepiece, that much she understood, but where did monkeys and sunshine come into it? "You there. Barry."

  "Yes miss?"

  "Why is your equipment not aboard the ship?"

  "It's locked up, that's why. Nobody home."

  "Spacejock has to be aboard. He's flying us to Jordia."

  Barry shrugged. "Tell that to the computer."

  Jasmin took the passenger ramp to the landing platform, using the handholds as it flexed and swayed beneath her. At the top she found an intercom alongside the airlock door. She pressed the button and spoke into the pickup. "This is Jasmin Ortiz for Mr Hal Spacejock. Please put me through immediately."

  "Mr Spacejock will be back soon. Would you like to leave a message?"

  "Back? Where is he?"

  "Not here."

  Jasmin frowned. "How long will he be?"

  "Estimated return: some time this morning."

  "That's not very precise."

  "He is human."

  "Tell me, did Mr Spacejock sign for a delivery?"

  "Yes. Clunk stowed it in the cargo hold."

  Jasmin glanced down at Barry and Ace. She had to get them out of sight, fast. "We really need to come aboard."

  "I'm sorry, I can't allow that."

  "Not even the cargo hold? Our equipment is sitting on the landing pad."

  "The doo
rs will remain closed until Mr Spacejock or Clunk tell me to open them."

  "Is that so?" Jasmin prised the intercom away from the hull and patched into the data connection behind it. "The thing is, I really need to come aboard."

  "You're not authorised to do that!" said the Navcom. "I shall report this to the authorities!"

  Jasmin found the access code and the airlock door swung open. Next she operated the cargo ramp, and as it dropped towards the ground she waved Barry towards the rear of the ship. "Load your equipment. Quick!" Then she ducked into the Volante's airlock.

  The inner door had started to close, but she took two steps forward and pushed, driving it back until the gap was large enough to enter the flight deck. She found a data socket in the console and plugged her finger in, and immediately discovered layer upon layer of electronic shields protecting the ship's operating system from intrusion. Someone had patiently built an impregnable wall around the core functions, but as Jasmin probed she found a weakness: the crew list. Mentally crossing her fingers, she added herself to the roster and maxed her clearance for good measure.

  "Welcome back, Ms Ortiz," said the Navcom. "Did you have a pleasant outing?"

  "Wonderful, thanks. Now, I'd like you to prepare for take-off. We must be ready to leave the instant Mr Spacejock returns. And Navcom?"

  "Yes, Ms Ortiz?"

  "You can call me Jasmin."

  *

  Barry and Ace had just finished loading when Jasmin came to check on them. She found Ace sitting on a crate while Barry checked his ankle.

  "What's the problem?" demanded Jasmin. "Is he not fit?"

  "Dozy twit fell over a cable," said Barry. "Don't worry, it'll mend."

  "You don't have spares?"

  "Eh?"

  "Forget it." Jasmin looked around the hold. "Your equipment is aboard?"

  "Yep, all in."

  "Excellent. We'll be leaving shortly, so please secure —" Jasmin stopped. A battered groundcar had appeared in the distance and was making directly for the ship. "This must be the pilot. You'd better hide."

  "Why?"

  "I didn't tell him about you, that's why. Now get out of sight."

  Barry and Ace had barely hidden themselves when the groundcar drew up to the cargo ramp. The doors opened and two huge men climbed out, enormous bruisers with broken noses, close-cropped hair and shoulders as wide as an airlock door. They looked up at the ship, then unhurriedly reached into the car and pulled out a pair of baseball bats. While they were busy the rear door opened and a short man in a leather coat emerged.