by Rob Guy
“Now was that meant for me?”
“Yes!”
“Did you hear me? I said I’ll pay you.”
A long silence. “How much?”
“Ten thousand.”
“You don’t have that kind of money. I’m your accountant, remember?”
“Headlock is paying me an extra fifty to bring this guy back from Mars, but first I have to go to Venus Station.”
Manny was heard to whistle. “Fifty K? Must be important.”
“Can you do it?”
“It’s peak season you know. Everyone wants to go to Venus and Mars this time of year. It’s quicker but not cheaper.”
An even longer silence. “Fifteen?”
“What time does the ship leave?”
“05.00.”
“Okay, you got a deal. But I’ll need five up front. I got a few strings to pull and pockets to fill.”
“And ladies to pay no doubt.”
“Hey! Trudi’s not that kind of girl.”
“Well I guess I should apologize. Thanks, Manny. Got a lot to do here. Call me with the flight details.”
“There’s a good idea.”
Click. Brrrrrrr.
Harry pulled the receiver away from his ear as though it was on fire.
“Your ship leaves for Mars in under fourteen hours,” said Larry, as he watched Harry switch off his computer, place his hands behind his head, and smile. “But we’re not going to Mars, are we?”
Harry turned slowly in his chair to grin at him. “You said it yourself. Dig deeper. Pack the tanning butter, buddy, Venus is hot this time of year.”
Part II
Onboard The Venus Freighter Dragonfly
3
Raquel
It took Manny another three hours, but he finally found Harry a berth on a freighter lifting out of New New Orleans bound for Venus Station the next morning. He also secured passage on the space liner The Infinity Wing, a StrateLine ship currently docked at the station, bound for Mars. The freighter would not have the same luxuries as the liner. These ageing stalwarts of the cosmic ocean had been retrofitted with passenger compartments, to subsidise, as Manny so eloquently put it, their dwindling income. The major downside to this was that some of the older tugs had to sub-divide the cargo hold into twenty or so staterooms, thus reducing their cargo capacity. A paying passenger was just that, however Earth commodities were still a premium for the inner planets, and so to some this action was deemed something of a white elephant.
The Venus freighter Dragonfly was carrying the latest batch of pseudo-asbestos, the new wonder material being used for the current plan to cool Venus down just a tad more, so that humans wouldn’t melt on its surface. As well as this it had the usual paraphernalia required to re-stock a Station not yet self-sufficient. Items such as stationary, foodstuffs, and safety equipment were all onboard, together with a substantial supply of prophylactics. Apparently Venus was living up to its name. It was a little trickier for Manny to falsify Harry’s boarding of the Mars shuttle, as the Irishman didn’t look remotely like his occasional employer. However, someone at the Martian Shipping Line owed him a favor, and agreed to his request, a request that turned into a threat, as Manny had to remind him he still had the holographs.
There was only one thing that could go wrong with Harry’s little deception. If Headlock had someone watching the port, confirming his boarding by a visual, then he was screwed. But Harry didn’t believe the Judge would go to the trouble, especially as he thought Harry thought this was just a routine search and pick up.
So it was that right on time, Harry Watt, would-be Bounty Hunter, boarded the Mars cruiser Flying Dart, whilst at the same time taking his seat onboard The Dragonfly.
Inter-planetary travel is boring. There is nothing to do but watch the blackness outside, which is only slightly less tedious than watching the whiteness inside. But on this particular trip there was a distraction, a 38-24-36 distraction. Harry had watched the hour glass goddess board just before him, and caught sight of a bursting khaki green flight suit with tied back black hair, being helped through the airlock by two gormless, mischievous, unctuous little grease-hands. He wanted to punch their godforsaken, sweat smeared faces as they plied their clumsy charm on the divine beauty before him. As she disappeared into the ship, they turned, grinning and talking with each other, to be confronted with Harry’s deadpan expression. Their smiles dropped away like a second stage rocket, and Harry was not averse to wreaking some revenge on these ungallant wrench heads. This took the form of accidentally breaking wind just as his backside swung round within centimetres of their heads, as he pushed through the airlock. He apologized, naturally, blaming his untimely deflation on the zero g, and the flaming tacos he had consumed on the way up.
Farting in micro gravity is not as easy as you would image, especially when you have to take into account Newton’s Third Law. However, to Harry it was a practised art, and took little effort to summon up the demon gas just at the right time.
His quarters were cramped and grimy, which he expected. There was also a double bunk, which he did not expect. He sighed as he dropped his bag, and wondered if this was the start of things to come. He went to pick up the phone, but as if to pre-empt his needs it rang, startling him.
“Hello?” said Harry.
“Is that Mr O’Hanlon?” asked a scratchy male voice.
“No. I mean yes. Yes this is Mr O’Hanlon.”
“Incoming call for you, sir. Mr Harry Watt. Reversed charges. Do you wish to take it?”
Harry sighed again. “Yes, put him through.”
Why do I get the feeling that the shit is about to hit the fan?
A few seconds of static, then Manny came on the line.
“Harry, I’ll keep this sort as you’re paying for it. Don’t ask me how, but Headlock has got wind of your duplicity. He’s going nuts. Expect a call soon. Thought I’d better warn you. I knew this would happen. Jesus, fella, you’re not with the Bureau anymore. Get your arse to Mars boy, didn’t I tell you? Instead here I am, roughing it on your behalf. I can see the Earth receding, blue and green, it’s beautiful. Could be time for a bath soon in my en-suite, and maybe a bucks fizz or bourbon from the mini bar, or some hors d’oeuvres from room service. God this is Hell. The things I do for you. Anyway, you need to be on your guard. Don’t bother replying. I hate the bloody lag. See you in about four weeks. Ha Ha!”
Harry slammed the receiver down, cursing his bad luck. After the dust had cleared from his grinding teeth, he commenced beating his fists on the wall, damning all the Bailsman Gods and practically everything to do with authority.
Once he’d settled down, he decided the best course of action was to concentrate on the one thing he could do something about, plus it was also a puerile way of getting back at Manny. He picked up the phone and dialled Customer Relations. What was the point now of using that bloody Irishman’s name? It was always going to confuse things anyway. Now he had the perfect excuse to revert back to his own identity, and stop all this covert nonsense.
“Hello, this is Harry Watt in cabin 304.”
“Who? What?”
“This is Harry Watt… Merde. I mean this is Manny O’Hanlon in room…”
“What?”
“Yes, Watt, I mean O’Hanlon. There’s a ….”
“What?”
Harry sighed. He would never have got used to this. “My name is Manny, I am in cabin 3….”
“Stateroom.”
“What?”
“I think you mean stateroom, sir. We have no cabins on-board the Dragonfly.”
“Yes, be that as it may. There are a couple of things I need straightening out. First, there is a double bunk in here, and I distinctly remember paying for a single cab…. stateroom.”
“So what do you want me to do about it?”
“Pardon me?”
“I said what do you want me to do?”
“Put me in a single cabin!”
“Stateroom.”
“Whatever. Look, can you help me or not?”
“No.”
“Pardon me?”
“What number did you dial?”
“What?”
“I said what number did you dial.”
“Yours!”
“Do you wish to change staterooms?”
“Yes!”
“Well this is the Bursar’s office. You need Guest Relations.”
“Well that’s the number I dialled.”
“You can’t have, sir, otherwise you wouldn’t be talking to me.”
Harry thought, and not for the last time, how you always seemed to meet the chief asshole in your life either on the other end of a phone, or when you weren’t carrying your gun.
He took a deep breath. “Very well. What’s the number?”
“It’s written on your stateroom wall next to the phone.”
“Can’t you just re-direct me?”
“Oh no I can’t do that. Sorry.”
“Why not?”
“It’s against regulations, sir, sorry.”
“What regulations?”
“Demarcation, sir. The communication techs can get very upset.”
“To Hell with them! What about your guests?”
“We are full up on this trip. There are only five single staterooms, and all are taken.”
“I know that. I should be in one of them!”
“I see.”
“Do you?”
“What?”
“Never mind.”
“Do you wish to register a complaint, sir?”
“No. I merely wish to be put in the room I paid for.”
“As I said. All the single staterooms are occupied. If you wish to pursue this matter further you should speak with someone from Guest Relations. Thank you.”
“Wait!”
Harry slammed the phone down and cursed. Taking a deep breath he dialled again.
“Bursar’s office.”
Slam!
He paced the room, head and hands to the ceiling in silent offering to the communication gods. Another deep breath, and he dialled a third time.
“Bursar’s office.”
“Look, I keep dialling the right number for Guest Relations but I keep getting you. Can’t you please re-direct me?”
“Who are you again, sir?”
“I’m Watt.”
“I said, who are you, sir?”
“I’m Watt, ah shit. I mean, I’m O’Hanlon in room 304.”
“Just a moment. 304?”
“Yes,” through clenched teeth. Harry could hear the faint rustle of paper. “You will have me down as O’Hanlon, my travelling name, but Watt is my real name.”
“How should I know? Are you feeling all right?”
“I’m perfectly fine. Why do you ask?”
“You just asked me what your real name was. What do you need a travelling name for anyway?”
“I was travelling incognito, but it’s no longer necessary.”
“No sir, you are in 304.”
“What?”
“We have no stateroom called Cognito, or suite for that matter. Well, we don’t have any suites actually.”
“Look, I am merely trying to inform you that I am in a stateroom with a double bunk when I distinctly paid extra for a single room. Also, I need you to change my name on the manifest to Harry Watt. Can you do that?”
“So you are saying that you wish to change your name and stateroom. Yes?”
“Yes. That is exactly right. Please, please try and understand. I am Harry Watt travelling as Manny O’Hanlon. Please tell me you can understand that. Please.”
There was silence on the other end of the line that seemed to stretch through decades. Then eventually: “Oh, your real name is Watt! Now I understand. I bet you get this all the time, eh, sir?”
“Can you help me?”
“With your enquiry or your name? Ha ha!” Silence. “Ahem. What is the nature of your enquiry?”
“I paid extra for a single room, and there’s a double in here.”
“Lucky you!”
“What?”
“That’s you name. You must get confused a lot.”
“Look, I don’t want the double bunk, okay? And I’m not feeling particularly lucky either. In fact I’m feeling quite frustrated.”
“Then you must be someWatt irritated. Ha ha!”
Harry closed his eyes and tightened his grip around the man’s throat. Actually it was the receiver, but it did his soul good to think he was slowly strangling the idiot. “Yes, I am somewhat. Very funny. Now, do you think you could please help me?”
“You need Guest Relations. The number is…”
“I know the damn number! Every time I dial it I get you.”
“We are having some teething problems with the new comms. Sorry for any inconvenience, Mr O’Hanlon.”
“Oh mon Dieu. Look….”
At that moment the door opened, and so did Harry’s mouth. It gently came to rest just above his navel as a figure dressed in khaki green led by two mountains of joy entered the room. Their eyes met. Harry tried to smile. She looked disgusted.
“Sir? Are you there?”
“Never mind. Everything’s fine.” He hung up. “Hello.”
“Not interested. What the hell is this?” The woman indicated the double bunk.
“You can have the top one, or the bottom, I really don’t mind. Lady’s privilege.”
“Save it for the whores at the Station. I’m not staying here. Where’s the phone?”
“Right here. Be my guest.” Harry genially almost moved out of the way. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling as she glided past. Yes, glided. This Siren did not require feet! She simply swept herself along, and all others with her! He caught her scent. Jasmine!
“Hello? Guest Relations? Bursar? I want Guest Relations. What? I don’t know. Didn’t it come up when I dialled? Wait a second?” To Harry; “What’s the cabin number?” To the phone; “What? I don’t give a flying fuck! It’s a bloody pigpen as far as I’m concerned. You realize I’m staff, and I’m in here with a passenger, and a male one at that! Wait!”
“304,” said Harry.
“And what are you grinning at?”
“Nothing. Carry on, please.”
She threw him a truly evil stare.
Over the next few minutes, Harry listened and watched like an eager schoolboy waiting to catch a glimpse of his favorite sports star. The woman cursed, gesticulated and shouted down the phone, only to eventually hang up close to tears. She turned to look at Harry, who was trying to appear serious.
“Damn shame,” he said, with a drawn mouth and a shake of the head. “Guess we’re stuck together.”
“Huh!” The woman fumbled in her top pocket and pulled out a cigar. She jammed it between her teeth and proceeded to roll it from one side of her mouth to the other.
“Is that a cigar?” asked Harry by way of polite conversation.
“Fuck off!” replied the woman.
“Name’s Harry, Harry Watt,” Harry said undaunted.
“Drop dead.” She started to open her kit bag, but suddenly thought better of it. Harry caught a brief glimpse of a lemon colored garment before the bag was zipped shut.
“Well I don’t plan on doing that for a while yet,” he said. “Look, I spent much longer on the phone talking with that moron. This is a shit heap, I know. But it’s getting us both to where we want to go. Ten days isn’t all that long. Ever been to Triton? That takes months.”
The woman looked astonished, and Harry prepared himself for another barrage of carnal verbs. But she visibly relaxed; her shoulders dropped and so did the act. She burst into tears. It was as natural as waking up with a hard on for Harry to walk over and take hold of her.
“There, there, it’s okay,” he said softly, patting her back. “Harry. My name is Harry.”
“Raquel. Raquel Belch,” she replied, spitting out the squashed cheroot.
“He
llo, Raquel.”
“Hello,” she sniffed, and bawled even more.
Harry took the moment. Having a woman pressed close to him was a feeling he would never grow tired of. The fact that it had been months since the last time bore no significance to the event. She was limp in his embrace, which didn’t bother him. What did bother him was the growing lump down below. He never got a chance to say goodbye to Brenda, and now here he was with this serene Helen seemingly at his mercy. The thought of them entwined flickered across his synapses for a second before disappearing. He couldn’t do it. Even he, Harry Watt, had standards. He settled for a quick, hopefully unnoticed grope, of her wondrous breasts, and let her go. He handed her a tissue.
“Why the act?” he asked.
“You have to be tough out here.” She blew hard into it, and then managed to sneeze as well. Some tiny balls of snot caught Harry on the cheek. He blinked with a fixed grin, seemingly oblivious.
“So why let those bastards grope you at the airlock?” he asked, attempting surreptitiously to wipe off the mucous with a wave of an elbow.
“Listen. I have to work with those guys, okay? Let them have their fun. Each one knows if they ever come near me uninvited with anything more than an offer to buy me coffee I’ll rip their balls off.”
“Fair enough.” Snot gone. “How about me?” Harry’s eyes were starting to mist over, and he assumed an expectant posture, just like a loyal dog about to receive a treat from its master.
“What about you?”
“Can I buy you coffee?”
Raquel scoffed. “Look, I let my guard down just for a minute. That doesn’t give you salvage rights, okay? I didn’t mind your little grope. Guess you earned it.” She pulled another cigar from her flight suit.
Now Harry felt embarrassed, and stupid. He coughed, and straightened himself. “Sorry about that. It’s just that, well, you are….”
“I am what? Fair game on this tug? Let’s get one thing straight here, bud.” She aimed her cigar squarely at Harry’s crotch. “If he comes anywhere near me again with you attached, I will personally cut off your meat and two veg, and serve it to the ship’s cat. Understand?”
