by Chris Lowry
"What did you do?" Tinker sat up and stared in wide eyed wonder.
"They slipped," said the guard.
Meg screamed. She ran at the man's back, recovered knife raised to slam it between his shoulder blades.
Tinker lashed out with his foot, hooked her ankle and sent her sprawling. She fetched up against the side of the bar, knife stabbed into her palm, and screamed.
"Thanks," said the prison guard.
"I still owe you," Tinker hopped off the bar and stared at what once were men. "What is it? Marital art?"
"It is a pronoun."
"What you did?"
"No," the guard finished his beer. "The word."
He started walking toward the door.
"Hey, what's your name?" Tinker called after him.
"Bat," the man said without turning.
"I owe you Bat. I mean it," Tinker said. "You need something, you find me. I always repay favors."
The man called Bat acknowledged him with a small wave, and let in a wash of light as he disappeared through the door.
Tinker took a look around at the four dead men in the bar fight and the wailing woman whimpering against the counter. He decided it would be better to be somewhere else in case someone came along and tried to pin all of it on him.
So,he madea beeline for the door and slipped out into the street.
CHAPTER
Tinker stepped outside and blinked in the searing sunlight. He glanced around and didn't see the prison guard.
"Man must be magic," he thought. "A magic ninja."
He heard a siren blaring inthe distance, the familiar woo woo bouncing off the close packed printed buildings and decided he would be better served being elsewhere.
A short walk carried him to another pub, with a crowd gathering outside to check on the commotion up the street.
Tinker decided it would be better to be part of a curious group than a man walking away from a bunch of blood, broken bones, and at least one dead body, not to mention assault with a fruit knife.
The Peace Resource Officers might not want his version of the story, that the woman fell on her own blade while trying to stab him.
Or sorting it all out would take too much time, and he would rather just find Sue's and complete the errand he was running for Jade.
And get back into space.
Less than a day on ground and he was beginning to feel that itch. His mom called it a wanderlust when he was a kid being raised in Musk.
"Head in the stars," she could complain.
His dad just used his fists instead of talking.
Tinker would agree, he had his head in the stars.
Always had.
Always would. He loved flying. Loved the freedom of the open lanes, the sound of engines humming under his bottom as he strapped into the pilot's seat.
He loved having his own ship, and was proud of earning it all himself.
So,what is most of the credit came fromill-gotten gains.
All the official channels brought to the Red Planet were the bare essentials for survival.
But the citizens of Musk and the space stations all had wants and needs that went beyond basic survival.
Tinker just wanted a small slice of that action, and as long as he kept his head down, it had worked out.
A little here, a little there, and he had enough to buy a ship, and then select whatever cargo he wanted to haul.
Booze? Sure, carried it right into the Japanese sector of the Space Hub.
Trade it for a dozen passengers who wanted a quick trip to Musk with no official records. He had it covered.
Grab a load of Martian Red Potatoes and drop them off on the Saracen and exchange it for spice to deliver to the Chinese sector. The spice must flow, he hummed.
A little off the top always stayed behind, a rainy day fund if he needed it. Spice could be sold. Potatoes made excellent mash for his still. And people.
Well let's just say some of the ladies were extremely grateful for the trip.
Tinker smiled as he bellied up to the bar.
"What's going on out there?" A rotund man with a handlebar mustache offered a pudgy smile.
"Trouble," said Tinker. "Starts with a T, that rhymes with a D and that stands for drink."
The man had a nametag on his black vest that said Ted. Ted chuckled a polite amount of time and set a glass in front of Tinker.
"What kind of trouble."
"The whiskey kind," he selected.
Technically he wasn't supposed to mix brown and white booze in his belly. It did a number with his stomach acid. But the excitement before had raised his metabolism, so he bet he burned it all off and it would be okay.
Ted whipped up a bottle in one smooth motion, topped off the glass and made it vanish again, all while smiling at Tinker.
"Crap."
He felt his pockets.
The smile dropped off Ted's face.
"You can't pay."
"I can't pay. I left my credit chip back at-"
Tinker glanced at the crowd. As soon as he looked back at the bar, the glass was gone and so was Ted's demeanor.
"Get out of here bum."
"I'm not a bum, I swear," Tinker said. "I've got the credit."
"Then where is it?"
"It's just..." Tinker trailed off. "Damn it."
"Get out of here."
Tinker pushed off the bar.
"I'll be glad when this day is over."
"Stop mooching off hard working people," Ted advised.
"You know what Ted? Shove it out your porthole. I'm working my ass off and I keep getting the shaft."
Ted glared.
"Porthole?"
"Yeah, you know. Your exhaust pipe."
Ted's mustache bristled. Tinker got prepared for a fight, tensing his muscles and watching to see which fist Ted threw across the bar first.
So, he was surprised when the man laughed.
"You mean blow it out of my ass?"
"Yeah?" Tinker shrugged.
"Porthole? I like that. I'm going to steal it. Hey Mick," he called out across the room. "Blow it out your porthole."
"And up yours Ted!" Mick shouted back.
"Don't steal it," said Tinker. "You can have it for that drink."
Ted nodded and the full glass reappeared on thebar top.
"Just the one, then get out."
Tinker nodded and took a sip of the amber liquid, letting the burn slide down his throat and spread warmth through his belly. The ache in his head, back and when did he hurt his leg, all began todissipate.
"Ted?" he said to the bartender. "Can I call you Ted?"
"That's what the nametag says," Ted pointed. "It would be weird if you called me Bob."
"Ted," Tinker continued. "I'm looking for a place called Sue's."
Ted's eyelids dropped to half mast as he stared at Tinker with an expressionless face.
"What do you want with Sue's?"
"I'm delivering a message from one of her former co-workers."
"What kind of message?"
"The private kind, Ted."
"I think you should take your drink and leave."
Tinker took another sip.
"I'm almost done. Unless you have a to go cup?"
"Drink up and get out."
Tinker nodded.
He knew Sue from the space hub, but he wondered what kind of business she was up to planet side to elicit that kind of reaction. Did Ted know her?
Was he a customer?
A paramour?
Tinker was about to ask another question when Ted glanced over his shoulder and the passive face disappeared into a scowl.
Tinker looked up into the reflective mirror behind the bar, brought there by a smuggle like him no doubt, and saw a couple of PRO's step inside and look around.
They probably weren't searching for him. Just looking for anyone who might have witnessed something.
But he slurped down the rest of his drink and when the two officers
went one way in the pub, he circled the other and hit the door.
"Hold it right there," a massive hand fell on his shoulder as he stepped outside.
"It wasn't me officer," Tinker turned with a prepared defense.
He didn't recognize the guy behind him. Tall, lanky and mean looking, he wore a batteredStetson and a dusky coat.
"I'm Mick," the man introduced himself.
"From inside?" Tinker asked.
Mick nodded.
"I hear you're looking for Sue."
Tinker tilted his head.
"You heard that?"
"I've got good hearing."
He waited for Tinker to say more, and the pilot waited for a longer explanation. When the silence stretched almost into a minute, Mick turned.
"Walk this way," he instructed.
Tinker tried, but the tall man's stride was different from his. So, he walked his own way and followed.
CHAPTER
Mick led Tinker to a home on a cramped street, the preprinted structure built to look like all the others except for color.
"They mix a die with the cement," said Mick.
Tinker guessed he elected himself tour guide, though he had grown up in asimilar structure in a neighborhood far removed from this one.
Part tenement, part government housing, part prison cell almost all the public housing on Mars looked exactly the same.
Hesupposed that was the printer's responsibility.
He'd seen one work once. A giant machine squatted over a bare lot and printed a home in less than twenty-four hours. The printers were brought to the Red Planet in pieces and assembled on the ground.
As far as he knew, every structure on the surface was printed, except where people had cobbled together sheds, or shelters from cast off materials.
There were several on this street, though none blocked the walkway, or the doorway that led to the second floor.
Mick opened a thick metal door to a large common room. Tinker could see several doorways bathed in shadows along the walls, but his eyes were drawn to the massive table that dominated the room.
A figure sat at the head of the table, more dominating than any piece of furniture.
Sue did not look like Tinker remembered.
She looked worse. To say the years had not been kind would be an understatement. It would be better to say someone sliced her cheeks with a knife and threw acid on her face.
"Try not to throw up," she said in a hoarse voice he found familiar.
"You look...different."
Then she cackled, and he time travelled back to the first time he'd dropped his pants in front of her for the all over body inspection she gave newbies.
She'd laughed then too.
"Sue," he said. "Good to see you."
"You still lie," she smiled, though it only worked on half her cheek.
He could see it in her eyes though.
"You like my new look?"
He swallowed.
Sue liked to test folks, and sometimes the wrong answer ended up with a swift kick to the balls. She wasn't close enough to do it herself, but Mick was, and he had on pointed cowboy boots that could do some real damage.
"I wouldn't pay for it," said Tinker. "Unless you looked the other way."
"And there wasn't a mirror," she kept on smiling and he relaxed a little.
He still kept a hand in his pocket just in case he had to block a kick though.
"Mick says you're looking for me? You know I'm out of that line of work, right?"
Tinker shrugged.
"You try to get out and they pull you back in."
"Something like that. What do you want Tinker? Not many make it out here these days. And those who do, not many leave."
He couldn't tell if it was a warning.
It sounded like a warning, and if it was, he planned a shiver to shimmy up his spine. Cause with her scarred features, it was creepy as hell.
But it could have just been a statement of fact.
A statement that was just as creepy as a threat.
"I'm looking for a girl named Jinx," he said.
Mick reacted.
He wasn't sure if Sue could.
"Who sent you?"
Her voice was low and laced with gravel, and he could tell this was a warning.
"Her sister."
Then Jade stepped out from a shadow filled doorway and joined Sue by the head of the table.
It might have been Jinx.
Tinker was trying to remember if the woman told her they were twins, but he couldn't recall much but a giant woman with pink hair and an alcohol befuddled shower.
He was pretty sure he and the giant woman made sweet love in the shower, cause why else would he be so sore down in his man bits, and then he shivered a little.
The giant woman wasn't his type.
"Was that for me?" Sue grinned.
He guessed she liked shocking her guests. Reconstructive surgery could do wonders with damage like that. He'd worked with other pilots who lived through fiery crashes and came out more handsome than they went in.
So, Sue kept the look for a purpose.
"I met you on the station," Tinker stuttered.
"My sister," Jinx confirmed. "She gave you a credit chip?"
Tinker nodded.
"And you accepted the contract?"
He nodded again. It seemed like the only response.
"May I have the chip please."
This twin was politer than her sister. He hated to disappoint her.
"I lost it."
Sue sat up in her chair, all pretense of a smile gone.
"You lost it?"
"Where?" Jinx snapped.
"I got in a bar fight," Tinker indicated his wrinkled jumpsuit and the myriad collection of bangs, bruises and scrapes that lined his face and head.
"Is that what the Pro's were looking for?" Mick said from beside him.
Tinker jumped.
He didn't expect the cowboy to be so close.
"I guess," he shrugged. "People got hurt. That's what happens when people go against me."
Sue's eyes sparkled a little bit, but the smile remained hidden.
Jinx turned to her with worry in her eye.
"What are we going to do?"
"How did you lose the chip?" Sue asked Tinker.
"I bought a drink, some rough necks started a fight, I finished it and left the chip on the counter."
Sue turned to Mick.
"Would the PRO's have picked it up?"
He shrugged.
"Depends on the scene. They'd lock it down first, then try to find witnesses," he turned to Tinker. "Someone die?"
The pilot shrugged.
"I can't be responsible for what happens when I get mad."
"Don't try the tough guy act with me," Mick said. "You weren't in there alone. Some other guy came out first."
"You were watching me?"
"My sister said you were coming," Jinx worried the side of her pretty little lips. "But we thought you would have the credit chip with you."
Tinker shrugged again.
"Sorry I lost it, but if you just get me back to my ship, I'll do a run and pay you back. Sue, you know I'm good for it."
She waved him off with a wrinkled hand.
"It's not the money, idiot. There was a message on the chip."
"Yeah, I saw it."
"You saw the message?"
Her sharp eyes drilled in to him.
"Sure, your sister told me where to start looking for you."
"Was there more?"
He shook his head.
Sue turned to look at Jinx.
"There would be more to it," said the twin. Still worrying her lip, hands twisting her tiny fingers.
"Anyone want to clue me in to what's going on?"
"You ever been in a hostile takeover?" Sue askes in a sharp voice.
"I almost got boarded by pirates once," he said. "But I got away."
"You? Got away from pirate
s?" Mick scoffed.
"I'm an excellent pilot," Tinker sniffed.
"He's not lying about that," Sue agreed. "He's flown some hairy runs before."
"But he's a drunk," Mick pointed out.
"And you're a drug addict. Jinx is a prostitute," Sue added. "We don't judge.Everybody’s got a long road."
"I'm judging him," Mick muttered.
"I'll judge you right back," Tinker snapped. "I can fly circles around anything you got."
"I can't fly," Mick said.
"Well, there."
"That's it? That's the end of your argument? Just there?"
"Buddy," said Tinker. "It's no argument. You ride on the mag lev trains. I'll stick to the stars."
"Enough," Sue interjected. "You need to get the credit chip."
"Why?" asked the pilot.
"I got this in a hostile takeover from Su," said Sueas she ran the tip of her finger across the scarred features of her face. "And now it's time for payback."
Tinker scratched his head.
"Su's dead."
"She's dead? How?"
"A couple of guys showed up and shot her."
"They shot her?" Sue glared at Mick and Jinx. "Do you know why someone would shoot Su?"
"You're the only one I know of who would want to," said Mick.
"Who was in charge when you left?"
"Big Cindy," said Tinker.
"The bouncer!" Sue shrieked a cackle.
"Her or your sister. They sent me down to get you still."
Jinx broke down in tears and collapsed next to the chair. Sue reached out a hand and patted her sobbing head as tears streamed down her scarred cheeks.
"What the hell is going on?" Tinker stared at the duo.
He glanced over at Mick and saw he was a little emotional too.
"Am I missing something?"
"You're missing a lot," said Sue. "But give us a ride up to the station and we'll catch you up."
CHAPTER
Do you like bonuses?
Do you like books?
Well of course you do, you grabbed this fun little sci fi treat, didn’t you?!
So keep reading.
I’ve got the first half of PHALANX, a military sci fi story I’m toying with in the pages that follow, and I’d like to know what you think about it.
It’s not much of a comedy, more militaristic, but I’ve got a story arc planned out and can move it to the front of the queue if there’s enough interest.
