The Knockabouts

by DK Williamson

  Ursula laughed. “I knew that was coming, but I thought it would source from Tell. How much am I owed then for my hundreds of hours of labor?”

  “Acme Rapid Carrier has a most generous and equitable compensation package. You get paid the same as the captain and first mate.”

  Ned turned toward Teller with a smile on his face. “Really now? And what might that be?”

  “Bunk and board. Not to mention crew also keeps all they experience. Think of—”

  The speakers on the command deck buzzed. “Vessel designated Botany Bay, this is Lyrisium System Patrol Ship Lynxa. Exit traffic pattern starboard and join on my port side for escort to Ieton Station.”

  Teller snarled, angry with himself. “I should have changed the registration and transponder after our fracas with Rattray, but I figured no one knew who we were. We’ll do it on the fly.”

  “Will not be the first time,” Ord said.

  “How do we evade them?” Ursula asked.

  Teller climbed from his seat. “Don’t sweat it, Urs. It’s an old smuggler’s trick. We’ll show you, but it won’t go in the log.” He tapped Ord on the back as he moved toward the hatch. “Old pal, keep’er in the pattern until I yell, then tuck in with some heavy traffic.”

  Ord grunted in reply.

  “Botany Bay, this is Lynxa. Reply or comply,” came an impatient sounding transmission a minute later.

  “Transponder’s off,” came Teller’s shout from somewhere in the cargo bay.

  Despite Teller’s assurance, Ursula was still concerned. “Won’t they be able to track us anyway?”

  “No,” was Ord’s reply. He brought the Lance gently to port, slotting in beside a large bulk carrier and eased forward just behind a Tartar class heavy freighter.

  “They are seeking us,” Ho said. “Active scans. I have their com band. They have lost their track on us.”

  “Don’t think you’ve fooled us,” the Lynxa sent. “Exit the pattern immediately.”

  Ord rumbled in gentle laughter.

  Ursula eyed the giant uncomfortably. “Are you saying they can’t locate us?”

  “Yes. Look,” he said with a point ahead and above them.

  Ursula stepped into the space between the pilot and copilot seats, looked through the forward view panels, and saw a ship outside of the traffic pattern streaking to the left and paralleling a line of traffic branching that way.

  “That’s the Lynxa?”

  “Yes.”

  Ho brought the patrol communications up. “—and need some help here. Pinged a vehicle with fresh warrant referral from Hadley. Following the traffic pattern, but he’s gone black on the ‘ponder. Have an idea where he is, but I need another couple of patrol ships soonest or he’ll be gone.”

  Ho canted his head. “Evasion successful it seems.”

  “It working?” Teller said as he passed into the command deck slipping a registration plate into a breast pocket.

  “Chasing non-domesticated fowl, or so it would appear,” Jessop said.

  “Just so everybody knows, we’re the KRD Darby now. Flying out of Brenner’s World.”

  “I’d never heard of it until Malcolm mentioned it,” Ned commented.

  “Me neither. Mal’s notation says it’s an automatonically run place on the fringe of Protectorate and Gouss space. A bureaucratic nightmare that only machines could create. I’m guessing our Human bureaucratic overlords here in Human space envy them their mastery of convolution.”

  “And we fly for KRD?”

  “I guess so. Kyrill Redundancy Directive.”

  Ned opened his mouth to say something, but paused for a few flabbergasted seconds. “What do we do? We fly for our machine overlords?”

  Teller shrugged. “The cover story is Ursula’s department. Mal didn’t leave any suggestions.”

  “I’ll come up with something. Question is: are we still thought to be dead?”

  Teller let out a long breath, then said, “I’d like to say we are, but the way things seem to go for us, I’d bet on no. Obviously news of the fight with Rattray or the incident on Turgis beat us here.”

  “Will we still be able to see this Nikira?”

  “Why not. We might not want to travel as a group with nametags displayed, but we do have fake bona fides that will pass muster. We’ll have to see where we sit in popularity in the news cycle.”

  “Not to offend,” Jessop said with an uncomfortable look on his face, “but the most obvious person among us might—”

  “No offense,” the giant cut in. “Ord can stay. Watch Lance. Ho can go with you. No description of group with Mech.”

  . . .

  Vicimere, a planet famed in Human space for its natural beauty, impossibly tall spacescrapers, and pleasant climate, was well known through much of the galaxy for being a major media hub, home to thousands of news, entertainment, publishing, and tabloid outlets.

  The Vicimeran city of Maran-on-Dulcet-Sea was their destination, the Hyper Media Center to be precise.

  Traffic control directed them to an open spacefield a few klicks from the media center. Coming in on a vector that brought them inland over the ocean treated them to the sight of Vicimere’s epic skyline and its artfully designed and constructed buildings that followed the curling shore of a bay, itself crossed at the shoulders by an immense bridge of beauty to match the city behind it.

  Lines of vehicles crisscrossed the air over and around the city, repulsor vehicles occupying the lowest lanes, suborbital and space traffic higher, with ships climbing and descending as needed. The Lance became one of the latter as she made her way down and joined hundreds of ships on the field.

  Once down and secure, Teller, Ned, Ho, and Ursula made their way to the media center via a ground shuttle, the tapering blue crystalline building looming far above and wide over the spacefield.

  A massive building required an equally sizable lobby, one the likes of which Ned and Teller didn’t know existed. On the back wall stretched a rank of lift column doors beyond sight, with countless beings coming and going. A large chrono display on the wall showed it was just past midday local time.

  “I don’t know if I’m in awe or sickened by this,” Jessop said, shaking his head in amazement.

  “You can’t be both at the same time?” Teller said.

  “To business, boys,” Ursula scolded. “Do you know where Nikira works?”

  The knockabout shrugged. “I assume it’s somewhere in this building.”

  Ursula gave Teller an irritated glare. “We’ll check a directory. Does she have a surname?”

  “She’s a Morlok,” Teller said as the trio wound their way to a bank of directory consoles set in a nearby kiosk. “They use a taidoch. They carry their opposite gender parent’s name as an equivalent to our surname custom.”

  “I’ve met quite a few Morloks, but I didn’t know that,” Ursula said.

  “Nikira da-Daisho,” Teller said. “That’s who we’re looking for.”

  “Nikira, the daughter of Daisho, that’s what it means.”

  Teller nodded.

  “Hello and welcome gentlebeings!” a voice from the directory console said in a cheery tone. “I am Merl, your friendly and helpful directory bot, here to provide support courtesy of Hyper Media Group. How may I assist you?”

  “We need the location and data pad contact code for Nikira da-Daisho,” Teller said.

  “Data pad contact codes are confidential unless given personally by the being themself. You may contact her via Hyper Media Center’s Internal Linking System however.”

  Teller glared at the console. “And how do I do that?”

  “You request a Hyper Media Center ILS code.”

  “Must I use those exact words?”

  “Ah, a fine jest. I shall bring it to the display panel.” The code appeared. “Would you like me to say the code?”

  Teller glared again. “No. I got it.”

  He inputted the code and almost immediately received an answer.

&
nbsp; “Nikira da-Daisho.”

  “Hey, it’s your long lost cousin.”

  “Hey, you! I know the voice. Long time gone!” Nikira said without hesitation. “Sure as Hades didn’t expect to see you here and now. Where are you?”

  “The arena you call a lobby.”

  “Well hippity-hop into a lift column and come see me.”

  “Floor Seven-Zero-One,” Merl said.” Blue Sector. The floor directory will show you where you need to go.”

  “Be right there.”

  Nikira laughed. “No you won’t.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “You’ll see, cuz. See ya when I see ya.” She cut the connection.

  “Have a pleasant and safe journey, gentlebeings!” Merl gushed. “Be sure to visit the observation promenade on the eight hundredth level and partake of affordable yet tasty beverages and delectable victuals while you are there! Happy day and enjoy your stay at Hyper Media Center!”

  Teller gritted his teeth and glared at the console before turning away.

  “I’m not sure I understand. She’s a Morlok, and your cousin?” Ho asked as they walked toward the line of lift column doors.

  “Not really, but her father was close to Hugh. When Daisho passed, she went to live with relatives, a mercy I wasn’t afforded. Hugh visited every chance he got. Once he scraped me off the deck, he took me along most of the time. We’d stay with them for awhile before moving on. I mentioned it before, she was a bit of a bully, but such is family.”

  After several chrono units of transit and watching floor numbers scroll on the display above the doors, Teller began to understand Nikira’s comment. “Trapped in a moving lift column… forever,” Teller muttered. “I wonder if anyone has ever suffocated or died of boredom doing this.”

  “I know what you mean,” Jessop said with a nod. “I’m sure it has an effect on the masses that have to do this every day.”

  Ursula nodded in agreement. “I suppose the trick is to find something to occupy your time.”

  “You’re probably right,” Teller said. “Like complaining about how long it takes to get to the eight thousandth floor.”

  Some time later, a tone sounded and the doors opened, the sudden change of routine and brightness from windows directly across the walkway startling the trio of Humans from their stupor. The quartet stepped from the column and took in the view of a city incorporating supreme architectural integration. No two buildings were the same, yet all seemed to complement one another.

  “Seven hundred stories up…,” Ursula mused.

  “Seven hundred and one,” Ned corrected.

  She smiled. “Like you can tell the difference.”

  Teller shook his head. “I don’t like being this high off the dirt without wings or repulsors holding me up.”

  “Same here,” Jessop said.

  Ursula laughed softly. “Then let us go see Nikira.”

  Finding her office was easy, navigating through the rush of beings in the wide halls to get there was more challenging. They found the door to her small and disheveled office open. Her dark eyes flashed as she hopped from her seat the moment they walked in. “Gotta go,” she said to her data pad. She tossed the device onto her desk, scattering data pellets, storage disks, and memory plates across its surface.

  The Morlok raced to Teller and hugged him, her face against his lower ribcage, then gave him a hard shove as she slid her door closed, all in one continuous blur of motion. “You’re in some trouble… you do know that, right? The nations on Matai might be going to war over the surveillance program,” she said in a rapid and clear-voiced burst as she circled behind her desk.

  “That’s why we’re here.”

  “The trouble, not the war,” Nikira said as she settled into her seat. “Figures. If that’s what it takes to bring you, then that’s what it takes. Good to see you, cousin. Fighters now freighters, never tried gambling?”

  Teller laughed. “As far as card players go? I’m the best blazing pilot you’ll ever meet.”

  “Our common heritage, raised by gamblers, but don’t have the look.” Her eyes shifted to Teller’s companions as she nodded. “Jessop and Raik and… friend?” she said looking at Ho.

  “Ho,” Teller said. “Our fifth crew member. A Mech they think is a bot. He’s managed to stay off the scans so far.”

  Nikira smiled at the trio. “Welcome! Any coconspirators of Tell’s….”

  Ursula shook her head. “We’re not cocon—”

  “Oh, I know that. Humor, the best painkiller, you know. If you did what they say you did, well, I’d imagine you’d be long gone in that tramp freighter of his. Teller’s a jerk sometimes, but he’s no murderer. He was awful when we were kids though, a bully, really. He pulled my ears and was always trying to steal my toys.”

  Ned and Ursula tried not to laugh, but failed.

  “I suppose he told you I was the bully. Categorically untrue, but he always lacked my energy level… ah, the past is passed, exhaust out of the nozzles. He turned out well enough.”

  “Hugh thought you—”

  “Yeah, I heard about the Latchup,” she said, her machine gun delivery cutting off Teller. “Curses I missed it. I’m betting it was an absolute scream! Paps always said Hugh played like a Morlok, but he didn’t need to cheat to win. Sounds like it worked out famously for everyone but the old line and you. I’m guessing you ruffled some feathers.” Without pausing, she looked to the other three. “Tell has a tendency to do that, go against the grain, rub the wrong way, push buttons, flip switches. Chasing semi-noble causes, a smart mouth, and weak impulse control will trigger a lot of beings into anger.”

  Teller ignored her and tried again. “Hugh seemed to think—”

  “You know, I think I can help you… maybe. Odd tale you have brewing. There were warrants, rewards, then you were dead, which I personally found doubtful. Then you were alive again and the bounties just blew up!” she said throwing her hands forward and scattering objects across her desk. “I’ll do what I can, but you gotta tell me what’s going down. So let’s hear it, this tale of yours.”

  The four related their story, Nikira occasionally inputting things on her data pad or asking questions, but largely letting them speak.

  When they were finished, Nikira paused in thought for a moment, then said, “That’s a wad of a story if I wrote pulp. If you had vid of all this, we could make bundle in the action-adventure line, but not much to catch-and-hold an audience looking at news. Beings will see it and grump about corporations and governments and then they’ll be off to check on the latest Moorla Tentacle story. She’s starting a music career they say! We need something else. Scandal, sex, murder. Big bad corps doing evil things to the wee-beings strikes a chord, but we’ll need more. Too bad there’s no vid of your tussle with Rattray. Any more encounters with neuro-warriors?” Nikira didn’t wait for an answer. “Vidloid made a mint off your little dance and they’re working on making another now that word got out you’re Gleg Malarkey. The man behind the Malarkey, or something like that I hear. Find a similar catch and we can make this story fly.”

  Teller snarled. “How is a tabloid tale going to clear us?”

  “A true tabloid tale won’t, cuz. A news story with brain-catching bits will. This story has its moments. The shootout on Commerce Station, the duel on Idor, the dogfights at Sessler and Hadley, but otherwise it’s a Syndic corporate espionage tale—if that— with no vid. Beings like sex, violence, death, and anything to do with celebs. Occasionally we can push a story if it pops, but you gotta have drama or else you have a vid spot way down the list when it gets sent out on the info pods. Give me something that’ll catch an audience and I can run with it.”

  “What about the fight on Commerce Station. Three Altairie ops and a lot of cops were shot. There must be surveillance in the docking berths.”

  Nikira thought for a moment. “It might be worth pursuing. I know someone who went there to cover the story, a guy named John so-Nedera. Good reporter. C
ool your thrusters, I’ll contact him.”

  She keyed her data pad. “He’s in a meeting. I’ll tag him. He’ll call when he’s free.” A moment later, she tossed her data pad onto the pile of objects on her desk and turned to the data console to her left. “That Florschiemer character you mentioned, the person who was supposed to get part of the data? Doing a look-up, name’s familiar…,” she trailed off as she looked at the display screen. “Yeah… I got him now. Infobroker. He was probably supposed to disseminate it to certain parties. Probably did since it got out.”

  She swiftly turned toward the four on the other side of her desk. “You have all of the data that was in the cases, right? No damage.”

  “That’s right.”

  “That might come in—”

  A tone from Nikira’s data pad cut her statement short. She swiped the device from the pile on her desk. “I’ll put it on speaker. I’m going to cloud the truth here, so stay quiet if you would unless I need one of you to say something. Ned, you’re probably the man for the job.”

  “Wait a sec—”

  Nikira didn’t wait to hear Ned’s objection. She keyed her data pad and said, “John, thanks for the quick contact.”

  “Sure, Niki. We Morloks gotta stick, you know?” a man’s voice rattled in the same rapid manner as Nikira.

  “I’ve got you on external here. I have a man who is the uncle of one of the cops shot on Commerce Station. He tells me there are rumors flying. They say the station police are lying about what happened.”

  “Rumors Fly as Police Lie,” John so-Nedera said. “Make a good headline, but there’s no meat. There were rumors floating around that the shootout wasn’t what the police reported, but that happens all the time. Cops hardly ever tell the truth and half the rumors you hear are only half-true at best. The rest are pure fabrication. Show me some vid and I’ll chase the story, but the cops got it all and it’s all locked down.”

  “Security forces handle that,” Jessop said. “I visit Boddan-Three often and usually pass through Commerce Station. I know that much.”

  “I’m sorry about your nephew, guy. All I know is the cops are running the show and they’re not going to help you. Sorry, but that’s just the way it is. The security folks were tough-looking and closed lipped, the cops defensive and nasty. Military and cops, same-same everywhere. Wish I had better info, but them’s the facts.”