The Knockabouts

by DK Williamson

  “The recovery of the data cases will acquire a higher profile by pursuing such action,” Nephron said. “That is something to consider.”

  “It is, but as I said, this situation needs to be concluded swiftly. The data case is simply a cover. Should the missing case be opened, it will reveal no more than we have already leaked. It is the four people that might cause problems and their apprehension or demise removes such problems. The longer it takes, the greater the chance for compromise. Miz Raik and her band have proven to be resilient and resourceful. Overcoming a professional bounty hunter and, if the reports are accurate, eliminating an assassin on Idor Station prove that.”

  “Resourceful, certainly. We have resources as well, do we not, Director? Resources that might be better utilized than they are now?”

  Sodall smiled again. “This clan organization your summary mentioned?”

  “Possibly, sir. I was thinking of something else though. Seeing as we are raising our profile anyway, I have something for you to consider. We have assets that do not connect directly to us, assets that could be used more widely and more aggressively.”

  Sodall continued to smile, guessing the direction of Julia’s proposal. “Go on….”

  . . . . .

  . . . . .

  10

  Talking Rats and Fighting Ships

  . . . . .

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

  Cap’n, what is space combat like?

  -Landa Phi

  It’s like a sword fight in a portable toilet, Landa, awkward, dangerous, and messy, especially if the thing gets tipped over on its side and it’s near the end of the day in a high traffic area and a squad of Gorsaurians used it before you went in there and… sorry, the Cap’n was flashing back to an unfortunate incident from his youth. Oh the Humanity!

  When you say space combat, I will assume you mean ship-to-ship combat and not being-to-being or being-to-ship. The latter two are for crazies like the Kai’ka’dus in Frellian space.

  Ship-to-ship battles take many forms, from one-on-one duels to huge space battles that decide the fate of entire peoples. The former are usually quick and vicious, the latter overwhelming, longer lasting, and even more vicious.

  Space fights are wild. Imagine a massive land vehicle on ice going full throttle with a pack of idiots riding along blazing away in every direction with blasters and rockets. Now imagine that vehicle turning, spinning, and sliding in three dimensions. Got it? Good. Now imagine there are dozens or hundreds, or thousands of these vehicles in a gnarled knot in space, hard-bent on killing one another. Throw in shields flaring, beams and bolts blasting, missiles streaking, collisions colliding, wreckage wrecking, asteroids… ‘roiding, planets orbiting, and a whole lot of other things going on around you and you’ll sorta maybe get the idea.

  Sometimes these battles take place up close and personal, sometimes at distances so long it’s hard to imagine, and each one and all those in between are like no other.

  The Cap’n heartily recommends staying out of such actions, Endeavoring Spacers. A knockabout is apt to live longer, keep their bodies intact, and be able to enjoy living life… if they can stay ahead of their ex-spouses’ legal representatives that is.

  . . .

  “This is station monitoring on four-point-five. Awaiting response. This is station monitoring on….”

  “That must be him,” Teller said. “Ho, can you locate him?”

  “Yes, but I suspect the broadcast we are receiving is through a beacon. He may relay his communications via this beacon to make it difficult to pinpoint him.”

  “Difficult, meaning not impossible.”

  “Correct.”

  “Do your best, Ho.” Teller keyed the broadcast key. “Station on four-point-five, we read you.”

  “Expecting this or just passing by?” came a reply within a few seconds.

  “Referral.”

  “Sounds promising. Who’s the party?”

  “A peach of a guy, but I’m not saying unless you happen to know him too.”

  The man laughed. “We have a lot in common. We’re cautious. We have heat and data cases that are worth something and know Mister Lewis. We ought to meet over drinks or something.”

  “Risky meeting face-to-face.”

  “Only if you bring a tail. Make sure you don’t. We need to prove to one another we each actually have what we claim we have. Authenticity. There has to be at least a certain level of trust between us for this to work.”

  “Where do we meet?”

  “On Factus Station. We do it in public. B-deck concourse should do. Ever been there?”

  “No.”

  “When you get there you’ll see. It’s a large concourse with eight ways in and out. Keep your head on a swivel and you can see someone coming from a long way and there’s lots of ways out.”

  “Sounds good. How do we know we’re not walking into something?”

  “You don’t. Neither do I. Look, I’ll be solo. You’re a group. I’m a rat, not a fighter. I never took down anything more vicious than a blood gnat. You guys took down a police squad over Boddan-Three and a neuro-warrior on Idor. My contacts are my protection, you got numbers. I don’t know what else I can say.”

  Teller looked over his companions. They all nodded. “Okay, we’ll meet.”

  “Good. See you in an hour or so. Look for the most drab Human there. Brown hair, grey shipsuit with vacant stix-fix panels. I’ll sit at a table out in the open. If there’s somebody there with the same getup, I’ll put on a red hat.”

  “And if there’s a guy dressed like you with a red hat as well?”

  Feng laughed. “In the odd chance of that, ask one of them for their name. I’ll be the one that replies with ‘stacks and stacks of credits’.”

  “We’ll be there.”

  “He’s calling from near the station,” Ho said. “Likely a docked ship.”

  “That means he’ll be there before us. The question is, will he be in the concourse?”

  “Does he have friends?” Ord said.

  “We should look things over very carefully before we march in there.”

  “I should be able to do so without attracting attention,” Ho said.

  “Our resident Mech finally decides to leave the ship,” Teller said with a smile. “The Latchup did you some good.”

  Ho canted his head. “Act like a sentient….”

  Teller laughed. “Been meaning to ask, what’s with the head cant,” he said mimicking the Mech.

  “A smile,” Ord said.

  “A way of indicating he’s joking,” Ursula added.

  “Or a laugh,” Jessop said.

  Ho canted his head.

  Teller felt a pang of embarrassment, but it passed quickly. “I’m the only one aboard that didn’t know that?”

  His Human comrades stifled smiles.

  Teller looked upward and sighed loudly. “Act like a sentient….”

  . . .

  “We need a game plan for how we deal with Feng,” Ursula said to the others as they sat in the common room. “Arguably, this is a business dealing… but one I’m not accustomed to. I don’t wish to insinuate, but you may have more knowledge of how such things are conducted,” she said with a gesture at Teller.

  He nodded. “Maybe, maybe not. If he does this for a living, then he knows more about this than we do. That puts us at a disadvantage. I’d say don’t give anything away. Don’t get chatty and volunteer any information. He probably assumes we stole this case like the vid feeds portray. No reason to make him think otherwise. He may think twice about pulling something if he thinks we’re dangerous. Plus, if he knows we’re not looking to cash in….”

  “It sours the negotiation,” Ursula said with a nod. “I suppose it might tempt him to acquire our case as well. He will likely want to pool our offerings and take a percentage of the total sale, or take a percentage of our side and keep the proceeds from his i
n total. He doesn’t need to know we’re looking for a way to clear ourselves, it weakens our bargaining position.”

  Teller smiled. “How do you get a percentage of a cleared name anyway?”

  Ursula laughed. “Someone could place a value on that, but if it’s not in the contract….”

  . . .

  “Contact with Factus docking control,” Ord said. “Automated.”

  “Good,” Teller replied with a nod. “Request an A-deck exterior docking.”

  A few moments later Ord said, “Housatonic is clear for docking.”

  Once they docked, Ho made his way to the B-deck concourse and soon returned.

  “I saw no evidence of Mister Feng having any compatriots,” the Mech reported. “Provided the man I observed is in fact Mister Feng. He is seated at a table well placed to observe all entrances into the concourse. One will need to use caution and haste to move into the area without compromise.”

  “I suppose there’s no way to get near him without being seen,” Teller said.

  “I would suppose one might crawl, but that would attract attention from others I should think.”

  Teller laughed. “I think we should split into pairs. Ned and Urs approach the guy while Ord and I make sure there’s no funny business. We’ll join you then.”

  . . .

  “That must be him,” Ursula said as she and Ned stopped at one of the entrances to the concourse.

  Jessop nodded. “Nobody near him.”

  The man surveyed the concourse every few seconds in between bites of food, his head oscillating and eyes darting.

  “Not that I’m an expert at this, but I don’t see anyone else that looks like they might be with him. It appears Ho was correct.” Ned sighed. “Shall we?”

  Ursula sighed as well. “Yes. I hope Tell and Ord can handle things if we’re wrong. Let’s go.”

  The two of them walked toward the man. He spotted them within seconds, but didn’t seem alarmed.

  Teller and Ord moved into the concourse a few seconds after Ursula and Ned. They moved to a row of food and beverage dispensers, the largest a drink machine, one Teller pointed to and said, “Stay behind that, big guy. It’s the only thing big enough to keep you out of sight.”

  Teller peeked around the edge and watched as the other two walked toward the person matching Feng’s description.

  The man looked at the data pad in his hand as Ursula and Ned approached, then looked up and motioned to them.

  “Have a seat,” the man said. “You’re Raik and Jessop.”

  “That’s right. You’re Feng?” Ursula said.

  “Lyndon, please. Where’re the other two? Or is just us?”

  “They’ll be here. They took another route.”

  “Smart. Like I said, I’m solo. But I understand the caution. You want to eat?” he said with a gesture at his food tray. “I’m a synth eater, but they say the straight grub here is good too.”

  “No, thank you.”

  Teller and Ord stepped out from behind the dispensor carrying beverages with sip-tubes and approached from Feng’s right. It took several seconds before he saw them. He laughed softly and pointed at Ursula. “Almost missed them. Got distracted. Pretty women’ll do that… beauty and the luster of coin.” He gestured at the two spacers.

  “You guy’s hungry?” he said as they approached.

  “We just ate. Our drinks will do for now.”

  “Have a seat,” he said. He looked at Ord and shook his head. “I don’t think you’ll fit in here.”

  “We’ll stand if you don’t mind,” Teller said.

  “I don’t mind. Just leave some space between you so I can watch the entrance over there. You watch behind me, all right? Someone might slip in while we talk.”

  Teller nodded.

  “To business then.”

  Feng lifted a case identical to the one Ursula carried and placed it on the table. He opened it and pointed inside. “That look familiar?”

  Jessop nodded. “Same model… sans the destruction devices.”

  “That’s right, except for the inconvenience of not being able to remove the data storage out of the case. A DatCase model Seven-A, produced exclusively for Altairie Corporation to their specs. The destruction devices were never placed into this one. Mind if I see yours?”

  Ursula replicated Feng’s actions. He looked into the interior and nodded. “Looks like we have something to discuss.”

  “It does,” Teller said. “You know how we got our case. Mind telling us how you got yours?”

  “I don’t mind. It’s not nearly as exciting as your tale. I acquired it on account of someone who worked at Altairie’s corporate center.”

  “An executive?” Ursula said.

  He laughed. “Executive janitor maybe. Happens a lot. The little beings that the bigwigs ignore come across the most interesting things. My source came across some info he saw on a screen, then some more on a holo display. He made his way to me thinking it might be worth a few creds. It was, but it hinted at more. Told him he’d have to get me more and get rich or I’d turn him in and send him to prison. Faced with such a choice, the decision becomes an easy one for most.”

  “You forced him to do this?”

  Feng’s expression soured. “No. I presented him with a choice, one that superseded his choice to sell me a trifling amount of information. That’s what I do. I’m a rat.”

  “A janitor acquired so much?”

  “He did. He initially presented himself as an insider. He told me a certain program Altairie had in the pipeline didn’t work as intended. The Spiral Project. Sound familiar? Thought maybe that was worth something to somebody. I did a little digging. Turns out he wasn’t on the inside, at least not in the conventional sense. He was janitorial staff in the executive tower. Once I told him I had him figured, he tried to back out. That’s typical. I leaned on him and he agreed to play. That’s typical too. I knew a data processor that worked for Altairie and I had the janitor push everything he grabbed her way. I didn’t think he’d get much, but he snatched up enough executive chatter to make clear their program wasn’t working, but there was no technical proof. I didn’t even know what the program was at the time, just its title. What you nabbed over Boddan-Three makes my stuff more valuable, although your leaking information about it puzzles me. We can talk about that later.”

  “How did Altairie find out you were doing this? The janitor?”

  Feng nodded as he wiped his mouth with a napkin. “He finally tripped up, got as careless as those execs that left unsecured data available and it caught up to him. It was complacency on his part. I had the data processor write the janitor’s gatherings into a data case and she shipped it out. It was the only way I could think of to get it once the janitor was nailed. I picked up the case. Somewhere in the process of interrogation that followed, the janitor dropped my name, so I took off. Complacency on my part, letting him learn who I really was. I thought Altairie might like to have it back, but they didn’t want to play it that way. That’s odd. Never had a corp not take me up on such an offer.”

  “What did they do?”

  “They put a trace agency on me. Been there before. They’re easy to slip, but now… after your little caper, it’s getting too hot. Merry Hell? Norg Fawcett and Rattray? Bounty-killers? Way too hot. I’m looking to make this pay and slipspace my wealthy self somewhere else.”

  “You have buyers?”

  “Of course. The pay is better when there are several bidders and I had several. Your stunt punched up the heat though. Scared off some buyers, others knew I’d likely sell cheap to get clear, but then I get wind of you. Together we can make out.”

  “How so?”

  “The data you have is stellar. I know this because of the amount of effort being expended to recover the data and eliminate you. Since they’re after me as well, my stuff must tie in with yours.”

  Teller nodded. “Let’s say it does tie in. Why do we need you?”

  “You don’t n
eed me, you need my contacts…,” he shrugged, “so you need me. You could try and shop it yourself, but you don’t know this business. I do. There’s my value in this venture. Look, the heat’s up, and I mean way up after what happened on Boddan-Three. They’ve lumped me in with you four. I’m looking to cash in quick and make for some place nice and far away. You put in with me, it strengthens our position. I’ll take ten percent of your end. That’s all I’m asking. We’ll be looking at long time creds.”

  “For sake of discussion, why would this other party pay so much for a program that doesn’t work?” Ursula said.

  “It’s not that much… to a major corp at least. A few hundred thousand creds to do tens of millions of creds worth of damage to a rival? To smear a competitor’s rep? Maybe a look into Altairie tech? It’s a bargain to them and a retirement fund for me. You also. I’ve done the work. I can set up the deal. All we have to do is shop it. That’s worth ten percent.”

  “Let’s say we do this. How does it work?”

  Feng leaned forward and placed his elbows on the table. “It’s a little complicated, but that’s to protect all parties involved. I’ll contact the buyer and we’ll set up a meet. A lot like we did here. With your numbers we can cover more—”

  A laser beam pierced the air between Teller and Ord. Feng slumped onto the table, a cauterized hole through his head.

  Teller spun and drew and fired at the corridor where the shot originated, forcing the shooter into a nearby alcove.

  “Take cases,” Ord said as he unslung his weapon. “Run to Lance.”