by Rob Guy
Everything went grey. All was gone. Nothingness.
Harry woke to find himself face down on the ground, the noise and smells of the port beckoning him back to his senses. Almost. He managed to raise himself up sufficiently to decide it wasn’t a good idea to do so. That part of his head, just above the eyes, felt like someone was pressing as hard as they could with their thumbs. He screamed, flapping his hands in front of him, hoping this pathetic gesture would somehow restore sensory equilibrium. Nothing doing. All it did was drop him to the cold, hard floor, his hands not bothering to break his fall.
When he next opened his eyes, Harry felt something cold running into his mouth. Someone was yelling at him in a language he didn’t understand.
In a minute, bud, he tried to say, but it came out more like, ‘Burda boodu, pa.’
Think I’ll just lie here a minute, get my bearings. Ah…. Blessed oblivion.
When he woke again, a pair of black toecaps appeared at right angles to his vision. Even in his current aberrant reasoning state, Harry perceived that this did not seem to be a naturally tenable position for someone’s feet to be in. He studied them for several seconds. Nothing was coming through that would enable him to accept that what he was seeing was normal.
But to hell with that. Why was he all wet? And what the hell was that taste in his mouth?
Lifting his head, he saw a policemen, his deep blue eyes staring down at him. He was talking, and Harry had the greatest difficulty trying to understand him. He coughed and spluttered to somewhere approaching full consciousness, to realize he had been chin deep in the open culvert servicing the local eateries.
“Hey, dickless,” the policeman growled. “Port security and passengers only beyond this point. Unless you wanna change the gutter for a cell, I suggest you beat it. Now.”
Somehow, Harry managed to stagger to his feet. The policeman, being upstanding, and a friend to all in need, gave him a perfunctory jab with his electric truncheon, before pushing him to the side. Harry grabbed at the wall, and as his senses slowly returned, the first thing he did was throw up. He staggered a little way before steadying himself, and puked again. He had to close his eyes and concentrate.
Calm, calm, calm.
He opened his eyes and stared ahead. He was able once more to make out the Departures board. He fought to control himself, and to get his eyes to focus. He cursed aloud, drawing unfriendly stares from those around him. He beat his fists on the wall until his half healed hand began to throb again, allowing the adrenalin to flush the toxin out of his bloodstream. When he could finally make sense of what he was seeing, he realized his time was up. But he couldn’t possibly have been gone that long. What the hell was in that vial? He staggered away, and tried his best to remain upright, as he slouched and crawled his way from the port.
Harry had to ask three times for directions to The Hilton. When he finally arrived, he found he couldn’t gain access to the main door. He was another few minutes trying to convince the concierge to let him in, which eventually worked after he pressed his room key to the glass with a hundred credit note wrapped around it. The concierge informed him that Heidi had already checked out, but Harry wasn’t listening. He insisted he let him into the room to find out for himself. Once there, he was dismayed to discover that Heidi and Angel were indeed gone. No note, nothing. How could he have missed them? Surely they would have seen him at the port. He had little choice now but to return there. There was still time if only he could get his act together. His legs, it seemed, were finally agreeing to work with his brain, and he managed to throw water over himself and look half presentable. This included ripping off his own soiled shirt, and putting on one of the garish monstrosities that Heidi had conveniently left for him.
He quickly brushed his hair, and one look in the mirror told him he still looked like shit. He badly needed a shave and a shower, but there simply wasn’t time. It may already be too late. Just how he was going to board the ship without any identification or ticket, he didn’t know. He would just have to trust to luck. Ha ha!
As he left the room, something was nagging at him. Despite her threat to leave him behind, he felt sure Heidi would have at least left him his ticket attached to a get stuffed! message. That he would have been able to understand. But for her to leave him with nothing except someone else’s shirt, well, even in the brief time he had known her he didn’t think it was something she would do. But then he started smiling. She could only be angry with him because of Raquel. Whether she intended to or not, she had revealed her true feelings for him. He practically bounced out of the room, grinning like the proverbial Cheshire cat.
Harry was not a particularly lucky person, but on this day luck was a lady. As he approached the port once more, he spotted Raquel emerging from the Space Traffic Workers Union hut adjacent to the check-in desk. She was chatting with a colleague, and what was immediately apparent was her change in uniform. Well a change of color at least. So Larry was right. Somehow, Raquel had managed to get herself transferred to The Infinity Wing as part of the maintenance crew. Their crimson flight suits were instantly recognisable. As was she, despite her bounteous sable hair tucked away beneath an equally loud baseball cap, and her face somewhat dulled by the rigors of labor. But she was still a beauty despite all that. Harry let out a low groan as he watched her sway this way and that, her identity tag attached to its lanyard bouncing to and fro across her twin mounds of ….
Concentrate, you bastard!
As his mind returned from its latest state of blissful daydreaming, he soon realized he had only a few seconds to grab her attention before she cleared security and was gone forever. So he did what he had to.
“Raquel! Raquel Belch!”
She turned on hearing her name spoken so loudly. She squinted in his direction, and for a heart stopping moment, Harry thought she was going to continue ahead. Then recognition came over her, and she smiled somewhat hesitantly and waved at him.
“Oh Dieu, merci,” he said, and walked up to her.
He wanted to embrace her, then he wanted to hit her, but she stuck out a hand and he had to make do with a rather manly handshake.
“Hi!” said Raquel, her smile seemingly stuck between her teeth. “Fancy seeing you. I thought you would be long gone by now. God, where’d you get that shirt?”
“I need to speak to you.”
“Sure. This is Eduardo by the way.”
“Hi, Ed. Listen, Raquel, it’s important. Can we talk privately?”
“Sure. Erm, can you give us a moment, Eduardo, please?”
Raquel’s co-worker nodded and moved off to smoke a cigar. Harry looked like he was about to soil his pants as Eduardo lit up. But when his face stayed where it was, he relaxed and just had to laugh. Raquel had watched his reaction, and had turned a whiter shade of pale. This alone confirmed Harry’s suspicions. No more benefit of the doubt. He took her by the hands and pulled her to the wall.
“Ow! You’re hurting me,” Raquel protested. “Let go.”
“In a minute.” Harry made sure his groin was not within swinging distance of Raquel’s feet. “First things first. I’ve got to get on that ship, and you’re going to help me.”
“How am I supposed to do that?”
“You’ll think of something. We will think of something.”
“And second?”
“Who gave you those cigars? Don’t act dumb. In fact don’t bother. I know who gave you them. Who are you working for? Don’t bother I know that too.”
“Fuck you, Harry.”
“Oh yes please. But that’s not what you do, is it? I will say this, though I hate to admit it. You did play me, good and proper. My compliments.”
“That’s not what I am. How dare you.”
“Oh please.” Harry stopped himself from saying more as he saw Raquel’s face drop.
Is she playing me? If she is, what an act! But if she isn’t… Christ I so want to kill you, Hackman.
Harry opened and closed his mouth sev
eral times, trying to find something to say, but he couldn’t think of anything. However, he had to harden himself if he was to board the ship. “Now, unless you want me to call the police I suggest you figure out how we are both getting onboard.”
“Yes, that’ll work. Let’s get the police here. You’re the one they’ll be taking away.”
“I’ve done my bit in court, thank you. It’ll be your turn if you don’t help me.”
“What can they arrest me for?”
“Mmh, let me see. Smuggling, there’s a start, fraudulent requisition of ship’s goods, there’s another, err…”
“Fuck off. You cant prove any of that. It’s my word against yours.”
Harry stuttered. Raquel was a tough nut, no doubt. “I know about Hackman, that sonofabitch.”
“I don’t know who that is.”
“Yes you do. The guy who gave you those bloody cigars.”
“You mean Brian?”
“Brian is it? Well, to me he’s Hackman, sonofabitch, Catspeak, the bastard that killed my partner, the one who tried to frame me for murder! And,” he said, moving in closer and actually baring his teeth, “he more than likely killed Bruce as well.”
“What! How can you say that? Bruce died on duty, the way he wanted to go.”
“Huh! I can think of better ways to go.”
“Well, we can all guess how you’d like to go, can’t we?”
“What was the cause of death, then?”
“Heart attack.”
“How convenient. Has there been an autopsy?”
“No. The body’s been embalmed, ready to be shipped back to Earth for burial.”
“Ha! Doubly convenient.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that… Aw…. You know what? Forget it. I’m just too tired and hungry to think straight any more.” Harry had by now released Raquel, and stood with his back to the wall, looking up. He rubbed his hands over his face and sighed.
“Well I think you’re wrong about Brian. He’s none of those things you said. He’s been nothing but sweet and kind to me.”
“I don’t doubt it.”
“Watch it!” Harry flinched as Raquel took a step towards him.
“That’s more like the Raquel I know.”
“You better believe it. Brian said he wanted to surprise you, as a gift from an old friend. I had no idea they would do that.”
“So why did you just turn as white as a ghost just now, huh?”
“It’s all over Venus Station what you did to poor Jonny. They found one of your cigars crushed up in an ashtray. I had no idea, Harry, you have to believe me.”
“I believe you, if it means you’ll help me get onboard.”
“Go to Hell.”
“Not today, not just yet. Someday, maybe. I know Hackman visited you just after we docked. He’s not what you think he is. He has something on you, that’s what I’d like to believe. If you want to carry on lying to protect him, then, you know what? Fuck you.”
“You bastard! You know nothing about me. Don’t you dare to think otherwise.”
“Then help me, Raquel. Help me believe you.” They looked frankly into each other’s eyes. After a few seconds Harry shook his head. “You’re not going to tell me, are you? Well I’ll tell you this. When I find Hackman I’m going to kill him. Either that or he’ll kill me.” He threw up an arm and moved away. He stopped a few metres from her and slipped down the wall, squatting with his head in his hands.
The pair were silent for a long time, until finally Raquel came and squatted down next to him. “So is that it? You’re giving up?”
“I never said I was giving up.”
“Good, because I have an idea how to get you onboard, but it will cost you.”
Harry chuckled. “Go on, I’m all ears.”
Raquel cupped a hand to her mouth. “Hey, Eduardo?”
“Si?”
“What size are you?”
Part IV
Onboard The MCS Infinity Wing
21
Welcome Aboard
The MCS Infinity Wing waited patiently in her dock, as patiently as a sleek, three hundred metre long, state of the art super vessel could wait. She glistened against the sable backdrop of the cosmos, the mighty flood lights of the docking port reflecting off her bloated, pearlescent hull. Finally all passengers and crew were onboard, and the journey to Mars could begin. As she slowly withdrew from her supports, crowds gathered at the huge convex windows of the observation lounges to wave farewell to this vision of a spacecraft.
As she cleared the mooring station, her vast underbelly began to rotate, slowly at first, until it was spinning at several hundred revolutions per minute. The whole ship appeared to wobble, as the StrateLine Drive prepared to do what it was designed to do. As easily as opening a door, yet with the inevitability of sheer untapped power, The Infinity Wing ripped open space/time, and jumped from this continuum to the next. To the viewers on the Station she had simply vanished, leaving only a shimmer, an imprint of herself that lasted the blink of an eye.
The flight suit was ten centimetres too short, and clung to him in all the wrong places, but with Raquel’s help, Harry had managed to get through security, and take his place among the crew. The damn suit fitted him tighter than a condom, causing him to hunch his shoulders, and pull at his crotch constantly, an act that made Raquel titter like a school girl. The security officer had given Harry the eye, but fortunately for Harry, his unshaven and swarthy appearance held him in good stead to imitate Eduardo, who was of Latin descent. Harry had bribed Eduardo with the last of his ready cash, with the promise of more to come if he kept his mouth shut, at least until they reached Mars.
The pair talked as they made their way through the ship to their quarters. It so happened that Raquel’s transfer had only occurred a few hours ago. Two of the ship’s technicians, Greek cousins in fact, had had a disagreement over a game of cards, which had resulted in one of them receiving a concussion and a fractured jaw, whilst the other was currently awaiting trial for inflicting said injuries.
Trust did not come easily for Harry, and it had not been easy for him to trust Raquel sufficiently in order to get him aboard. Their casual conversation had certainly helped ease the tension between them, however it wasn’t until they were safely in their cabin that Harry felt he could relax, just a little. So it was that Harry found himself bound for the Red Planet, albeit out of money and out of friends.
The first thing he wanted to do once he was settled was to take a shower and get something to eat. But of course it was never going to be that straightforward.
“What do you mean I have to report to engineering?” asked a horrified Harry.
“You’re not on vacation,” replied Raquel. “You’re part of the crew now, remember? You’ve got to earn your keep.”
“What? Are you serious?”
“Absolutely I am.”
“Well what are they going to do if I don’t? They can’t exactly throw me over-board, can they?”
“No, but they have a very nice brig I hear.”
“But I’m no bloody engineer!”
“According to your papers you are. Eduardo Rodriguez, third stoker, second class.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“I outrank you.”
“Very funny. I don’t believe this.”
Harry paced the room, stopping every now and then to utter a curse in French, and pull at his shrunken flight suit. Raquel watched him with great amusement.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” said Harry.
“Whatever gives you that idea?”
He stopped and pointed a finger at her. “I am not, repeat am not, working in engineering. I should be sat in that damn suite right now,” he pointed to the ceiling, “feet up, a screwdriver in one hand, caviar nibblet in the other, eating grapes, being fanned!”
“Ah, there you go. You said screwdriver. Secretly you must desire it.”
�
��You know damn well I’m talking vodka. And the only thing I desire more than all that has blonde hair and a degree in accounting. Merde!”
Raquel bristled. “I see. Well, unless you want to draw undue attention to yourself, I suggest you shit-can all that nonsense about an easy life and get your butt down to engineering. You’ll be reporting to assistant third chief Billy No Mates.”
“Eh?”
“Well, William Numates. He’s French too, I think, isn’t that nice?”
“I’m only half French. I’ve never even been to bloody France!”
“My my, aren’t we getting tetchy?”
Harry made a noise in his throat, rather like a stalled hammer drill.
“Well I’m sure you’ll find something to talk about, though I do hear he’s a miserable bastard, hence the nick name. You two should get on famously.”
Harry lowered his head, and rubbed his troubled brow. “This can’t be happening. Once, just once, I would like to catch a break.” He laughed a sick, hollow laugh. “And it would be really nice to actually board a ship as myself for a change, instead of some, some….”
“Grease monkey? Go on, you can say it.” Raquel wasn’t put out. She was thoroughly enjoying herself. She feigned a sympathetic expression as Harry continued to doubt the fairness of everything, and pressed home her advantage. “Ah, there there, third stoker second class Rodriguez,” she said patting his shoulder, with all the sarcasm she could muster, together with a thick slice of couldn’t care less. “It’s only twelve days to Mars. You’ll be learning all about the new StrateLine Drive, won’t that be nice? And it will be a constant, constant, reminder, that without it, you would be spending twelve weeks down there. Feel better?” She squeezed one of his cheeks.
