“You’ve been to these sorts of affairs?” Teller said.
“Yes. I am not a new model,” he said with a cant of his head.
Hugh laughed. “You’ve a keen sense of humor, Mister Ho.” He leaned against the railing and looked over the people below, the smile still on his face.
“You’ll be havin’ business with the council,” Rory said, his accent growing thicker.
Hugh’s smile faded. “I will, will I?”
“I told you, things are in flux. Some of those things involve you, so before you go lookin’ to split heads, we’ll go confab.”
Gus touched Hugh’s arm. “Should I go with you?”
“No, lad. I’ve business it seems. Go with Teller and Makko and see the sights. Enjoy yourself. You be seeing something many never will… to their detriment.”
Rory and Hugh descended the stairs down to the deck.
“Are Tyrrell or Brabham still around?” Teller said to Makko.
He nodded. “They’re at most Latchups in these parts and I’d wager they be here. Usually ask about you. Word is you have trouble at your back. Ty and Brabs will certainly help if they can. Goes without saying for me as well.”
“I didn’t want to drag any of you into my problems, Makko.”
“If we didn’t want to help, we wouldn’t. No dragging. You be kin, Tell. C’mon we’ll buzz the floor, see the sights, and make a little trouble along the way.”
The seven followed the same stairs down as Rory and Hugh, and in no time, they moved into the throng. Many in the crowd were taken aback by Ord’s size, but nearly everyone quickly smiled and shook his hand or patted him on the back in greeting.
Makko asked around and discovered the location of Tyrrell and Brabham. “Want me to go with?”
“I can find them,” Teller said.
Makko nodded. “I’ll ask around, see what the picture is about your situation. See you in a bit.”
“Who are Tyrrell and Brabham?” Ursula said.
Teller smiled. “A couple of no good spacers that inspired me to take up the game. They let me tag along and learn about indie rigs.”
“Should we go with you?” Ned asked.
Teller shook his head. “I’ll take Ord. You and Urs enjoy yourselves. Makko won’t steer you wrong. There’s no threat to us here, so decompress and maybe we find a way out of our predicament.”
. . .
Teller and Ord made their way across the deck while Makko led his charges a different direction.
“And who be this fair being?” a man said passing by Makko as if he wasn’t there. He stopped beside Ursula and offered his arm. “Take me arm and I’ll give ye a whirl on the dance deck.”
Makko opened his mouth to protest, but another voice beat him to it.
“Not this Latchup, Paul,” said an ebony and compact woman a head shorter than Ursula. She edged in close and held a finger near the man’s face. “You did this to me last year and to Britt last Latchup.”
“What are ye goin’ on about, Obsi? It be but a dance.”
“No, you do it to make your wife jealous. One day she’ll figure it out, but until then she takes her wrath out on your dance partners. As fun as it might be for you, it causes bad blood where there ought not be any.”
“Ye be daft. It’s not that at all. It just—”
“Paul, what ye be doin’?” said a scowling woman who closed on the group. “Ye not be makin’ me jealous, just angry!”
“Ah, ye be so fair I didn’t even need to step on your toes. Thank ye, lass.” He patted Ursula on the shoulder, turned, and walked toward the woman. “Comin’ me darlin’.
“What just happened?” a wide-eyed Ursula said as the man and woman disappeared into the crowd.
“Hopefully an end to Paul’s antics,” Makko said.
“Perhaps,” the woman called Obsi said. “You should have seen him coming, Makko.”
“So it’s my—”
Another pointed finger stopped him.
The woman offered her hand to Ursula. “You’re the only woman on a crew of seven?” she said as they shook.
Ursula laughed. “Not quite. How did you hear this?”
“It’s a Latchup. As soon as you stepped off Rory’s ship word was out.”
Ursula shook her head. “We’re seven, but not all of us are crew.”
“We’ll sort that out. You need some girl time I would guess. I’m stealing her from you, Makko.”
“All right, Obsi. Don’t forget where you got her from, and remember this be her first Latchup.”
“Noted and noted.” She gestured and the two women made their way through the crowd.
“Obsi?” Ursula said as they walked.
The woman laughed. “Muriel Makreury by birth, Obsi by moniker. Makreurys love to give monikers that beg a question.” She pointed at her face. “It’s my skin. The color of obsidian, they say.”
Ursula smiled and nodded. “Obsi. The monikers, they start conversations, don’t they?”
“They do… at least some. How did a nice corporate girl like you get mixed up with Teller and that lot?”
Ursula blinked, only slightly surprised such knowledge had already disseminated the Latchup. She paused in thought and then smiled. “I got very, very lucky.”
. . .
“Tell! Tell Skellum!” sounded over the crowd noise and music.
Teller stopped and looked for the source of the call. A hand moved up and down among the crowd, a squat man jumping with his arm extended above him.
“Bags, that you?” Teller yelled above the festive racket of the Latchup.
“It be!” The man pushed his way to Teller, his head barely coming to the spacer’s chest. “Been chasing you for a hundred meters. Your massive mate there made it easier though. I couldn’t catch you on Idor Station. Seen you, but you went gone in a hurry.”
“Hang on, first things first. Ord, Bags Makreury, Bags, Ord Hawmer.”
The two men exchanged an awkward handshake, diminutive hand meeting one magnitudes larger, much to the amusement of Bags.
“What were you doing on Idor, Bags?”
“My job. I sell, remember. The question is what were you doing? I put one and two together and figured you were part of the show with the fellow from Kwanam and were looking to slip out fast. When they said it was Malarkey did the deed, I figured you were in the clear for that and then I learned here that you’ve got other trouble.”
“If you know, then everyone here knows about Idor,” Teller said with a grimace.
“Well, yeah, Tell. You know how it is.”
“Yeah. I know.”
“So you gunfighting for creds now?”
“Freighter pilot.”
“Then who’s Malarkey?”
“Nobody. A made up name.”
“Well, he’s a famous nobody. Vid spots about him even.”
Teller laughed. “Better him than me.”
“If there’s anything I can do…. You get clear of your troubles, find me. I can steer some business your way.”
“We’ll do that.”
. . .
“Being an engineer,” Makko said over his shoulder, “you might like to see the gnashing wall.”
Jessop smiled. “Would I? I have only guesses as to what that might be.”
Makko laughed and pointed at a group of beings gathered near a bulkhead. “It’s a clearing house for those with problems of the ship variety. Mostly those who need parts, expertise, or tech data. Usually it’s things beyond their ability to fix.”
“Hence the gnashing of mandibles.” Ned laughed. “I’m no freehauler, but maybe I can help. Let’s go.”
The gathering was loud with haggles over swapping parts or arguments about the proper solution to certain problems. To one side stood a frustrated man holding a data pad in his hand.
“This be bleedin’ ridiculous!” the man said loudly. “Out of an entire Latchup, not a single solitary being knows how to stop an engine monitor from goin’ mad? Not
one?”
Ned stopped. “Maybe I can help. What’s the issue?”
“The issue is me nearly new monitoring gear is bloomin’ crazy. Reportin’ things when there’s nothin’ wrong. Reportin’ problems on gear I don’t even have!”
“Almost new?”
“Tha’s right.”
“Warranty ought to cover it. Take it to any tech that services them and you’ll have it fixed for free.”
“Grey market gear hasn’t got a warranty, y’know. ‘Sides, I be fearful o’ shippin’ with such a system on the blink.”
“I see. Unless there’s a physical defect, it should be solvable.”
“If ye have the knowin’. Me and mine don’t. There be the issue. I no canna find someone tha’s got it.”
“Specs on the hub?”
The man held up the data pad. The display showed, SPECTRADYNE ENGINEERING SYSTEMS - MONITEER MODEL QC802, STATION HUB.
“Spectradyne. The QC eight-hundred line is solid kit,” Jessop said.
“So ye be knowin’?”
Ned smiled. “Yes I be. Let’s take a look.” He turned toward Makko. “This might take a bit.”
Makko laughed and waved a hand. “Good on you. We’ll be around.”
The man slipped his data pad into a thigh pouch on his shipsuit. “So, who ye be?” he said as they walked across the deck.
“Name’s Ned. Let’s leave it at that.”
“Jessop? With Skellum are ye?”
“Word’s out?”
“Aye. Word crosses the deck as fast as slipspace’ll get you gone. This be a Latchup after all and ye likely be the only Ned here, so… narrows it down a bit. No worries. Ye be here, so no one can say a thing, least not without some dire consequences. I be Flip Makreury and the Fickle Coin be me ship. Freelance salvage be our game.”
“Our?”
“Me cousin and partner Stinky and I, plus the crew hires.”
“Stinky and Flip are your monikers?”
“Aye. I be called that because everything be a flip of a coin, good luck or bad for me, with nary a thing between. I’m ship chief. Me cousin is called ‘Stincubator’ Makreury, an ace spacewalker and the Coin’s salvage chief. Spend enough time in a suit, you’ll soon learn what an odiferous thing the Human body is. You’ll quit or become inured to it. He be the latter.”
“I’ve done my share of work in a suit,” Jessop said with a nod. “Salvage is a rough racket. You have my admiration.”
“Nice ye have the knowin’ of our work.” Flip pointed to a nearby hatch. “There be us.”
. . .
A pair of staggering drunks crossed the path of Makko and his remaining charges, one of the wayward men falling into the arms of Ho and the son of Rory.
The man looked up, his glassy eyes rolling. “Who be there?” His eyes settled on Ho, then moved to Makko. “Makko!” he slurred. “This be yer fault… more or less.”
The man and Mech stood the drunk upright.
Makko smiled. “How do you figure that, Dev?”
“Well, it really be yer mum’s fault, Makko. A fine bit o’ ale Martha be servin’. Far too fine to have but one. Course now we have nary a clue as to where we be docked. Need a bit of restoration, ye know?”
“We’ll get you there,” Makko said with a look at Gus. “The dancing will be delayed.”
“I can manage,” Ho said. “I do not dance, but I am quite sturdy and can ably assist these gentlemen.”
Makko laughed boisterously. “Gentlemen, ha. You do have a sense of humor, Ho. Meet Devlin and Pip Makreury. Their ship is over there,” he said with a point. “Thanks for the favor. Gus, it’s just us bachelors and a bevy of dance partners.”
Gus and Makko pushed through the crowd as Ho grasped a drunken Makreury in each arm. “Forward, gentlemen.”
Pip looked at Ho. “Are you a Mech? You talk like a Mech, but you’re plugged. Run aground in hostile lands?”
Despite being a Mech, Ho seemed genuinely surprised. “An astute observation. Have you experience with enslaved Mechs?”
“Enslaved… that’s the word, and yes, I have seen. Sad thing.”
Devlin pointed to the right. “Driver, tha’ way. Maggie’s got her setup there, I remember tha’ much. Sober us up right tight.”
Ho changed course and half-led, half carried the pair to an open bar, a crooked banner hanging overhead and reading MAGGIE’S confirming they were at the right place.
A woman behind the bar smiled and shook her head when she saw Devlin and Pip. “You’ve come full circle boys. Started here and now you’re back. Ready for the cure?”
“Le’me have it,” Devlin said as he pressed the side of his face to the bartop. “And get me new friend Ho whatever he wants. He be a right honorable gentlemech.”
Maggie shook her head again and looked at Ho. “Oh what fools we biologicals be. Have a seat if you like. These fellows’ll be better company in a few units.”
Maggie filled a pair of glasses with a dark brown liquid and set one by each drunk. “Have at it, boys. No time like the present.”
Devlin sat up and looked at the container with distaste. He lifted the glass and held it at eye level. “Here’s to payin’ the price.” He downed the contents and grimaced.
“What a waste of inebriants,” Pip said as he lifted his glass. “Here’s to Maggie and spit in their eyes.” He poured the brown liquid down his throat and set the glass aside. “Wake me up when I’m dead,” he muttered as he folded his arms on the bar and rested his head on them.
“That concoction will reduce the effects of the intoxicants in their systems?” Ho inquired.
Maggie nodded. “That’s it exactly.”
“The last toast referenced you and spitting. I do not understand.”
Maggie jutted her chin to her right. “It’s them. Old liners. They adhere to a great many long-outdated ideas… like women not owning property or running a business. Every Latchup I attend, I set up right beside them. I own two bars and manage one of them myself. They know it and know why I put myself where I do. It’s a… a, what do you call it? A—”
“Metaphorical spit in the eye?”
Maggie grinned. “Exactly that. I wish you could drink because I’d give you free reign at the bar for a year.”
Ho dipped his head. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“Did someone mention free drink?” Devlin said as he sat up.
“Maggie did, but I’ll guarantee you it wasn’t for us,” Pip said, also coming upright.
A group of men pushed by, some of them glaring at Maggie as they passed.
“Some of the old line?” Ho said.
Maggie glared back at the men and nodded.
“One of’em’s not,” Devlin said with a point. “Tha’s… what’s his name. The knuckle fighter.”
“Bron Dorn,” Pip said.
“Dorn, tha’s right. Seen him fight a couple o’ times. Right handy with the left jab he is. A true craftsman. Makes quite a living with his hands.” He looked around. “Where are we? Oh right, we were goin’ to our ship. I remember where she be now, but I no canna remember why.”
“Dorn must be a friend of Norman’s,” Pip said with a gesture at the group of men. “He’s chatting away with him.”
“Norm be lookin’ for a place at the top of the old liners now tha’ so many of the oldest have died or moved on. Norm’s no pro, but he be handy at knuckles himself.”
Maggie glared. “Not that handy. ‘Bandoned Skellum laid him out when they were teens and Norm had two years and ten weight units on him. He’ll do fine leading what’s left of those bastards. He’s always been one himself.”
“I remember tha’ tussle,” Devlin said. “but I still don’t remember why we were goin’ back to our ship. Ah, just as well, council’s announcin’ in a bit.”
“I believe Captain Skellum’s new moniker is ‘the Wing’,” Ho said.
Devlin tapped his head. “Tha’s right. Forgot tha’ too. Ye be a right nice fellow, Mister
Ho.”
“I’ll say,” Pip said with a nod. “Towing a couple of derelicts to a friendly berth… and strangers at that.”
“You shipped in with Teller Skellum, right?” Maggie said.
“That is correct,” the Mech said
“Word is you have trouble at your back.”
“That is correct as well.”
Devlin pointed at the Mech. “You seek us out if need be, my mechanical friend. Don’t know about gettin’ tha’ plug out, but nobody’ll be takin’ you off to work as a bot with us around. Perdition, you could stay with us now if you like.”
“I thank you for the kindness, but the people I am with may need my assistance.”
“Loyal ye are. In for a credit, in for a crown, eh? Make a fine Makreury.”
Maggie looked upward and smiled, “I know where this is going.”
Pip laughed and slapped the bar top. “A Mechreury!”
“Has tha’ been done? A Mech? Pip, me friend, we’ve got a pose for the council!”
“That we do. Ho, you be coming with us.”
“We’ll steer ye this time.”
The two men pulled Ho from his seat and led him away.
“I swear, nothing on four feet gets into more trouble than that pair,” Maggie said watching them cut through the crowd. “And they’re not even drunk anymore.”
. . .
“Nothing a cache wipe and recalibration couldn’t fix,” Jessop said as he led Flip and Stinky from the Fickle Coin. “Old data residue making the system confuse old with new. Now that you know the procedure, you’ll be well served by that engineering hub.”
“The coin surely came up for you this time, Flip,” Stinky said.
“I’ll say. A whole Latchup o’ nothin’, then in waltzes a true engineer with bona fides fallin’ outta his pockets.” Flip snapped his fingers. “Like tha’, and it’s fixed.”
“We really ought to pay you, Ned.”
“You owe me nothing. Taking pay would be bad manners considering the hospitality I’ve been shown. Glad to help.”
Flip patted him on the shoulder. “Ye be friend now. As fine a bit o’ ‘neering as I’ve seen.”
“It wasn’t really engineering, it was more—”
“Ned the ‘Neer! Tha’s ‘is clan moniker!”
The Knockabouts Page 19
