The Knockabouts

by DK Williamson

  “It’s nothing,” Teller said. “By the by.”

  “Yes, yes, by the by. Good stay. Here codes for room.”

  The four Humans left the office and went to find a place to eat.

  “The Squanj had a point about your name,” Jessop said to Ursula. “Maybe we should address that.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Spacers have a tendency to give everyone a single syllable nickname. Ord and I are already set. Teller is Tell. 7734-HO is Ho. That—”

  “Would make me Urs, correct?”

  Ned smiled. “I was going to say Ula, but yours is better.”

  “Oh joy,” she said flatly. “My spacer nickname is the same as I had in school.”

  Ned laughed. “And how many of your schoolmates have a spacer nickname?”

  . . .

  The four spacers passed a few drinking establishments before Teller pointed at one and stopped. “What do you think?”

  JOUQUL’S CANTEEN - SNACKAGE, DRINKS, INHALANTS, FREE VID-VIEWING, read the sign over the entryway. In spite of the early morning local time, the place was well populated and loud with crowd noise and a dozen vid screens showing a dozen different presentations.

  “That’s where we’re going to eat?” Ursula asked. Her tone made it clear she was not enthusiastic about the idea.

  “There’s a crowd in there for a reason. I can think of four or five as to why that is, and one of them is they serve decent food. That’s better odds than we’ll get at the cafeteria.”

  Jessop smiled. “For someone who says they don’t gamble, you use an awful lot of gambling lingo.”

  “It’s a fighter pilot thing.”

  “Is it now?”

  “That’s my story and I’m sticking to it, old man.”

  Jessop shook his head and smiled. “Maybe we should play the odds and let’em roll.”

  Tell rolled his eyes. “C’mon.”

  The canteen was busy enough to warrant a waiting line. The quartet debated over whether to leave or not, but after observing that the majority of those seated were also eating, they elected to wait for a table.

  Ursula leaned toward Tell so he could hear him over the noise. “Why do you feel it’s more prudent to meet this Farga off ship?”

  “It’s a precaution. Just in case Rael tries something or was followed here, it’s best for trouble to occur somewhere neutral and not aboard the L—Republic. Better a locker room gets shot up than our best means of escape.”

  “I see. You think Rael might betray us?”

  “Until we fully understand our situation, there are few we can fully trust. Even if he’s fully on our side, there could be problems. Maybe someone noticed him asking about us and follows him here or forces him to help them. Maybe the law leans on him. A mistake on our part could be costly, so we play it safe.”

  A portly apron-clad man walked past them and then doubled back. He stopped and paused for a moment to take in Ord’s size, then paused again at Ursula’s beauty. “Are we four?” he asked.

  “That’s right,” Teller said.

  “Come with me. We’ve a table open.”

  The man led the way with irritated words from larger miner and spacer crews awaiting seats.

  “I am Blethers Jouqul,” the man said to Teller as they wound their way through tables, chairs and beings. “You would be?”

  “Captain Randolph Bunkum and the crew of the Republic. This place yours?”

  “It would be if my father and uncles would ever get around to dying, but Jouqul’s are long-lived and hard to kill. To be honest, I like my job.”

  “How about your father and uncles?”

  “I like them too,” he said with a broad smile. “Makes it a bit awkward to talk about taking over the place.” He stopped and gestured at a small round table with four chairs. “Menu, or do you know what you’d like?”

  “Menu, please.”

  Jouqul looked at Ord and mulled his bulk, finally shrugging his shoulders. “Those chairs should hold up. If yours doesn’t, we won’t charge you for it. Have a seat everybody and don’t worry about the smell. It’ll go away… or you’ll get used to it.”

  . . .

  The four chatted as they awaited their food. Teller and Jessop exchanged stories about space stations and some of the more disgusting sights, smells, and behaviors they had encountered.

  “…and the guy says, ‘It’s not mine, but if you’ll help me soak it up, I’ll take it off your paws.’”

  The four laughed at Teller’s story. As Ned started another, Jouqul arrived with their food.

  A short time later, a squat man stopped at their table. Unsteady on his feet and obviously well into his cups, he pointed at Ord, who seated, was taller than the drunk was standing.

  “You’n me. We’re gonna go,” he said.

  Ord glanced at him and returned to consuming his food.

  “You ‘fraid? Better be. We’re gonna go. Go, go, go!”

  Ord furrowed his brow and looked at the man.

  “C’mon!” The man balled his fists. “Let’s go.”

  Ord growled, exposing large sauce-coated teeth, causing the man’s face to pale. He turned and ran into the crowd and out of sight. Ord returned to his food, saying nothing.

  Ursula looked back and forth between Teller and Ord. “What was that?”

  Teller laughed. “There’s a certain percentage of the galaxy’s beings that have no sense. Not a bit. One particular type thinks the way you earn respect in a bar is to take down the biggest being in the place. Ord there is often that being. Our recent guest is teetering on the edge between figuring things out or getting himself into trouble. Maybe he learned a lesson, or maybe he’ll take it farther next time.”

  “How often does that happen?”

  Teller twisted his face in thought. “What’s that… eleven?” he said looking at his friend.

  Ord shook his head and stopped chewing. “Twelve.”

  “That’s right.” Teller nodded and smiled. “It’s been quite awhile. We were overdue.”

  Ord raised an eyebrow. “We?”

  “C’mon, pal. I’m always there. If one of those vacuum heads takes you down, I’m the one that’ll have to shoot him.”

  Ord chuckled and wiped his mouth.

  The quartet left Jouqul’s very satisfied with the food. They decided to tour the station’s vast shopping mall, three stores on each side of a ten meter wide walkway.

  Ord expressed his dismay at the miners gear displayed in one shop’s view panel. It was obvious the mining down on Quinaar was very different from that on Gizzen. “No hammers?” he grumbled. “No picks?”

  Before he could expound on the subject, Ho messaged from the ship.

  “The Tango Express is requesting docking clearance.”

  “Message Farga. Tell him we’ll meet him in Transition Room Three-Three on C-deck.”

  A few seconds later Ho called again. “Message sent. He acknowledges. The Express is cleared and holding until another vessel docks.”

  “Thanks, Ho.”

  Ord smiled at Teller, prompting a glare from his friend.

  “What?”

  Ord’s smile grew. “Teller is less stubborn than most times.”

  “Yeah? Well Ord usually doesn’t gloat,” he said mimicking the giant’s voice. “I said I’d treat him like a sentient, didn’t I?”

  “Not gloating. Ord is proud of Teller.”

  Teller glared at the ceiling. “Well, as long as you’re happy.”

  The four of them made their way to Transition Room 33. Tell stopped Ord at the entrance.

  “You do something for me?”

  Ord grunted and nodded.

  “Hang back. Keep an eye on things from out here. Watch the hall in case some smart guy wants to interrupt our meeting. I’d like to know we have a backup plan in case Rael doesn’t come through for us.”

  “You think he sold us out?”

  “I don’t know. If it’s true we have professional bounty
hunters trying to latch us, it’s major credits. If I thought I could get away with it, I’d sell us out, so yeah, it’s within the limits of possibility.”

  Ord nodded. “Will hide and watch.”

  Teller glanced up and down the hallway looking for a space or shadow large enough to conceal the big man. Seeing nothing, he laughed softly and patted Ord on the shoulder. “Good luck with that, pal.”

  A short while later, Teller saw Farga moving down the walkway along the docking ring. He disappeared from sight as he entered the passage leading to the room. Tell watched the walkway until Farga opened the door and stepped inside. There was no one following. Farga smiled as Teller approached.

  “Tell me you have good news, Rael.”

  Farga’s smile grew as he nodded. “I do. I think things will work out just…,” he trailed off as he looked over the group and immediately became alarmed, his eyes darting back and forth. Ord’s not here, he thought.

  Teller realized something was wrong, and when Rael’s hand went for the laser pistol in his belt, Teller moved for his own weapon.

  “Or—!” was all Rael managed to yell before he fell to a bolt from Teller’s blaster, the report loud in the small space and startling to Ursula and Ned. Farga went backwards into the wall with a smoking hole in his chest and a vacant look on his face, the laser pistol still partially inside his belt. He slid to the floor.

  Ursula was shocked. “What—”

  “Drop it!” came a loud voice from the other doorway.

  Teller froze and slowly looked to his left. He saw a broadly muscular and tall woman aiming a large-bore stunner at him. He realized who she was though he’d never seen her before. Her height, build, dark red mane, and trademark blue glimmersuit and crisscrossing shoulder straps bearing a brace of custom gyromissile pistols meant one thing: Merry Hell.

  “You’re quick, Skellum, but not that quick,” she said in deep purring voice.

  Teller knew she was right and slowly placed his blaster on the floor.

  “Nobody moves or you’ll get put to sleep,” she said covering the group with the stunner. “If you’ve never been put down by one of these, I’ll tell you now, it’s the sleep of the damned.” She looked at Teller. “Kick the piece over here. You’re the crafty one, I guess. How’d you figure out your trusted old pal betrayed you?”

  Teller pushed the blaster toward her with his foot. “He always was a bad liar.”

  “You saved me from having to pay him.” She looked over the group and her expression hardened. “Where’s Hawmer?”

  “He’s hiding behind me.”

  Merry glared. “Where is he?”

  “On the ship.”

  She squinted as she gauged his answer and Teller could see his lie took. “That makes it easier,” she said with a slight smile. “Each of you, turn around slowly. No sudden moves.”

  “We are not criminals. We’re falsely accused,” Ursula said in a pleading voice, “and simply trying to clear our names.”

  “Look, if that’s true, I sympathize. It doesn’t change a thing. I get paid to bring you in. I don’t get paid for sympathy. Despite that, things could be worse.”

  “Worse?” Jessop said.

  Merry smiled. “I could have been a bounty-killer. There is a payment for other than alive.” Beyond her, a shadow crossed the wall in the passageway.

  Tell hoped Ned and Ursula had enough sense and discipline to keep their eyes on Merry as a large shape loomed behind the bounty hunter. “What might change the situation? If not sympathy, how about a blind eye? Anything we can offer to get you to turn one of those?” he asked with a cant of his head and a smile.

  Merry smirked. “I doubt it. It’ll certainly take more than a cute smile. It’d take a fortune or a miracle to get you out of the fix you’re in.”

  Tell laughed.

  “What’s so funny, rig?”

  “There’s a miracle about to occur. Check behind you.”

  Merry’s eyes narrowed, but her gaze never left Tell’s face. “You prove my point. That you think I’d fall for dungabool like that shows how bad your situation is.”

  “You haven’t fallen for it… yet.”

  Merry opened her mouth to reply, but Teller cut her off. “Ord.”

  Despite his size, Ord was by no means incapable of stealth nor was he slow. He swept his right arm up and under Merry’s gun hand as he grabbed her neck with his left. To her credit, the bounty hunter got off a single shot, the soporific beam energizing the ceiling with expanding circles of cloudy blue-lit waves.

  Ord lifted her from the deck and shook the stunner free. Even so, Merry put up a fight, kicking Ord a few times before she saw the size of him. Only then did she see the futility of struggling. Ord carried her to a row of deck-mounted chairs and set her in one of them, keeping a firm hand on one of her shoulders.

  “How in Hades did you get the drop on me? I checked the passageway.”

  “Ord hide and watch,” he said as he removed her gyromissile pistols. “You passed. Followed you into room.”

  Merry shook her head in admiration and disbelief. “Hid? Where in… oh forget it.”

  Teller found some heavy bonding tape in a drawer and bound her limbs while Ord ensured she didn’t interfere. That done, Teller tossed the tape into a sink.

  “What do we do with her?” Jessop asked.

  “We should release her… from an airlock,” Teller replied.

  “We can’t do that,” Ursula said with some concern.

  “I was speaking wishfully.”

  Merry yanked at her bonds. “If you had any sense you’d do just that. I’ll come after you, and next time you won’t be so lucky.”

  “There won’t be a next time, besides, we’re the good guys.”

  “Good guys finish up in prison cells when they have warrants and prices on their heads. You’ve got the ire of a major corporation and a handful of planetary governments. Good guys? This is the real galaxy, not a vidshow. Right or wrong is irrelevant, it’s who’s paying that counts.”

  “One thing’s for certain, we need to get clear of this place.”

  Jessop pointed at Merry. “What about her? We taking her with us?”

  Teller shook his head. “No, but we do need to get her off our tail.”

  “How do we do that?”

  Teller and Ord exchanged a quick look. Teller lifted the stunner as the giant stepped away.

  “I’ll be on you before you—” Hell managed before the soporific beam hit her. Her eyes rolled as the blue trails wisped away and she sagged into the seat.

  “We should check her for data,” Ursula said.

  Ord held up his hands. “Clumsy.” He pointed at Ursula.

  She nodded and searched the bounty hunter, but found nothing.

  “In there,” Teller said, pointing at the row of lockers.

  Ord lifted her as Teller found an unoccupied locker and opened the door. The giant placed Hell inside with her pistols and closed the door.

  Ursula shook her head. “She’ll hate us for this.”

  “Sure she will, but it pales in comparison to what she had in store for us,” Teller said. “Let’s go.”

  Ord pointed at Rael’s body. “What of that?”

  Teller grimaced. “I’m tempted to leave him here and let Miz Hell answer questions about it, but that drags us into more trouble.” He thought for a moment. “We take the body with us and space it when we’re clear.”

  Ord grunted and removed Rael’s laser pistol and tossed it into a nearby cabinet. He grasped the corpse by the clothing and hefted the body over his shoulder. “We go.”

  Ho was waiting near the hatch when the group returned. Teller thrust the stunner at the Mech with a, “Here, we got you a souvenir,” before he made for the command deck.

  A quick scan by the Mech’s photoreceptors revealed LULLA BIACTIVE SOMNOLENTIC/SOPORIFIC BEAM PROJECTOR MODEL ZZZ-72 stamped on the stunner’s side.

  Ord carried his load to the starboard airlock and ope
ned the inner hatch, placing the body inside. A quick search netted a data pad and a Carperan Bank five hundred credit plate. He pocketed them, and then closed the hatch.

  “Mister Farga?” Ho said.

  “Yes. Needs disposal.”

  “I see. The meeting did not go as planned.”

  “Not for anyone involved,” Ord said as he walked to the command deck hatch. “We will be off soon. Make ready.”

  . . .

  Teller and Ord raced through the preflight, wishing to depart as quickly as possible. Ned and Ursula secured themselves in the seats behind.

  “What do we do now?” Ursula said. “We know as much as we did three days ago.”

  Ord grumbled. “Found this,” he said as he pulled Farga’s data pad from his pocket. He turned and passed it to Ursula. “Check for news.”

  “It’s passcoded,” she said once it activated.

  “Try Tango Tango,” Ord said.

  “That’s it!” Ursula said a few seconds later. “How’d you know.”

  “He told Ord once when drunk.”

  She scanned the display for a few seconds, and then her brows arched. “I have something… I think we’re in more trouble than we thought.”

  . . . . .

  . . . . .

  6

  Pride Goes

  . . . . .

  Excerpt from, Cap’n Cosmos’ Guide to it All, the Interstellar Guide for Endeavoring Spacers.

  Cap’n, when I’m old enough to go into a spacer bar, are there things I should avoid to keep beings from disliking me?

  -Luke S.

  Luke, great question. There are many things you can do to avoid trouble. Unfortunately, every last one of them will fail a portion of the time, and some of them bring other trouble. That’s one of the great things about spacer bars, they keep a rig on their toes… or face down on a table or floor.

  One of the first things you should do before you go into a spacer bar is this: become a spacer. Some non-spacers can make it in and out without trouble, but it isn’t easy.

  You have two options if you want to avoid trouble, step lightly, or grow big and mean looking. They both have disadvantages though. Some cultures believe it is their sacred duty to stomp those who avoid trouble into a bloody pulp. These sorts like to tell you how bad they are beforehand, so you should have a bit of warning. There are also those that look for the biggest, meanest being in the bar and think if they kick its posterior, they’ll get some respect. Beware if you are the biggest. Best bet? Be courteous and be armed. Also, travel in numbers. At a minimum, find someone forceful who is old and wise in the ways of the galaxy and possesses mediation and combat skills to accompany you.