The Knockabouts

by DK Williamson

“Got it.”

  “There’s also a Fargo system, so make sure you get it right.”

  “Got it.”

  “You mistakenly end up in Fargo like I did once and you’ll have a blaze of a time getting out. One thing or another always seems to divert their conversations. Odd folks those. Just want you to be aware.”

  Teller shook his head again. “Got it. Fargon system. We’ll find it in our nav system. What is this place?”

  “Meltan? They call it a planet, but it’s not like most. Don’t know what it was named before, but it’s basically a toxic rock with atmo now. It was a dwarf planet or big ‘roid one of the big geo-metallurgical outfits made barely livable via hab-forming. You can live there, but you better bring your own food, because you won’t grow anything there… not in the ground anyway.”

  “Mining?”

  “No, mineral and ore processing if I heard right. The settlement there, Jing’s Town, was originally called Lucky Strike. Somebody found a few dozen rocks rich in Ore-Four-Two, the stuff they use in all the miracle alloys. Shopped’em to the corp. They did all their processing on Meltan. Pulled the high value rocks outta the black and parked’em overhead, broke’em down, transit-lined all the useable pieces down ground side. By the time they finished, the whole place was trash and the planet ended up with a belt from all the rubble overhead.”

  “There’s still population there?”

  “Sure. Not the same folks originally there of course, but there’s still beings there. The corp left the place to rot. Most of the dwellers stay around Jing’s Town. Made deliveries there a time or four. There’s still value in the trash, if you’re crazy and desperate enough to work for it. A lotta work for a chance at a lotta creds.”

  “I take it Meltan’s off the beaten nav lanes?”

  “Sure. Don’t have much in the way of rules, don’t care who anybody is or was. Brabs said if you use it, I was to let’em know so’s they could contact you if you needed anything.”

  “Give us a unit, Peachy.” Tell turned toward Ned and Ursula. “What do you think?”

  “It doesn’t sound like the most pleasant place in the galaxy, but it would be better than hanging in space for several days,” Ned opined.

  Ursula nodded. “And no bounty hunters catching us on space stations.”

  “Agree,” Ord said as Teller turned toward him.

  “I concur,” Ho said. “There are also maintenance procedures Lance requires which we could perform while groundside.”

  Teller nodded and keyed the transmit button. “Peachy? Tell Brabs and Ty we’ll be at Meltan in a day or two. If things go well, we may be out from under this Altairie problem by the time they get there.”

  “Will do. Fair trekking.”

  Ord stood and went to the active chart and navigation display.

  “Good idea, pal,” Teller said. “Make sure Peachy knows what he’s talking about.”

  . . .

  Peachy’s description of Meltan was correct. The small planet was in the Fargon system and did have a small population groundside. ARC Lance emerged from slipspace a fair distance out to size up the situation and give those on the planet ample notice a ship approached.

  It didn’t take long before they were contacted. “Arriving vessel, this is Jing’s Town—er, Meltan control. Don’t tell me your name, don’t tell me your problems, and don’t ask for help. Put down clean, don’t cause trouble, and you won’t get much guff. Now, that said, where you bound?”

  “Vicinity of Jing’s Town,” Teller answered.

  “Returning visitor?”

  “First time. That mean I’m buying a round for the house first bar I waltz into?”

  The being laughed. “We’re not that formal in these parts. Suggest you come in high side of the ring and land near town,” he said using spacer lingo, telling Teller to come in on the polar north side of the rings that decorated the planet. “Not the most efficient way down, but it is the cleanest. Lots of hazard around.”

  “Meltan gets enough traffic to warrant a controller?”

  “No, but we get enough idiots who put down groundside where they shouldn’t and yelp for help to make it necessary we try to warn folks. Warning’s easier than rescue or listening to beings wail and moan until they die. The magnetics here play holy Hades with nav systems, sensors, and scanners, so follow the satellite signals in until you’re close, then the com beacon dirtside. We have one hundred by one hundred meter pads that will fit your ride, so pick one and put down on an open spot. For the love of all that’s blue, make sure there’s not a vehicle in the slot you take. Some lubber with a ship did that half a Standard Year ago and we’re still cleaning up the mess.”

  “Will comply. Much obliged.”

  “Whatever you do, stay out of the Guast Quadrant in the southern hemisphere unless you have access to level four cleaning and scrubber units. The atmo alone just might burn holes in your hull. Anywhere you go is at least a bit toxic though. Ground water is water in name only, so bring your own, filter your own, or buy from someone in town.”

  . . .

  Teller brought ARC Lance down as suggested and as they flew low over Meltan’s surface, they saw a dark and rugged landscape, natural ridges and hills cut and scarred by beingmade cuts and berms that crossed the flat around Jing’s Town with roads and railways passing through the collection of old machinery and buildings that existed in abundance. The landscape that surrounded the area where they put down appeared to be no different and Jessop guessed the entire planet shared similar characteristics. The landing pads were marked with reflective appliqués marked to indicate distance, useful for visually guided landings.

  They could see perhaps a dozen ships on pads around the area as Teller brought the Lance down on repulsors, choosing a pad within walking distance of the town.

  Ned looked at the pads and their surrounding berms and said, “They look like revetments military fields use where they expect attack. We can only hope they won’t be needed for that purpose.”

  As the Lance settled onto the ground, a call came over the communications system. “Ground Station Jing’s Town here, calling newest arrival. If the man didn’t mention it before, we don’t want to know who you are unless you’re staying on. Don’t care if you’re on the run, just don’t cause trouble while you’re here. We send out alerts when anyone enters the system, so if you want a head start, keep up on the coms. Have a pleasant stay. Out.”

  “Possible Ty and Brabham have been here already?” Ord asked as they performed shutdown procedures.

  “Peachy might have been off on the info he relayed. If so, Ty and Brabs might have been and gone. When we finish here, let’s go see if Jing’s Town has a spacer’s relay. Gives us a chance to look the place over.”

  Ho found that most communications bands were usable, though many had considerable interference. The bands common data pads used were free of any such problems.

  “I see why this place makes a decent place to lay low,” Jessop said. “Locating a ship via instrumentation would be difficult at best. Visual detection would be the possible, but tedious.”

  “Just in case, we have a camouflage shroud. Connects to the—”

  “Nose to winglet tips to stern,” Jessop said. “It’s the vertical fin that’s the hardest to obscure. Done it, been there.”

  “I would imagine.”

  They pulled the shroud from its stowage. Ursula was surprised a shroud large enough to cover the ARC Lance would fit into such a small package.

  “It does,” Ord assured her. “Repacking is much work though.”

  Ord lugged the pack to the front of the ship while Ned and Teller climbed atop the sloop.

  Ursula saw AERWEIGHT INC - SHROUD, LANCER STRIKE SLOOP, SLICK, MODEL L-01B stenciled across the top surface. Ord handed her a lanyard. “Step back and pull,” he said.

  She did, and with a billowy poof, the pack opened and a mound of grey-green material arose. Ord sorted though several long cords until he identified the lines he
sought, and with them in hand, he tossed one each to the two men on top.

  “If I knew then what I know now, I would have bought stock in the Aerweight company before I went to Prause,” Jessop said as he pulled the shroud toward the port winglet tip.” They made mint off the insurrection.”

  “Somebody always does,” Teller replied.

  . . .

  Teller and Ord made their way to Jing’s Town, following crude signs placed along the paths and roads that ran between berms, junk piles, and old work sites. The paths north toward the town ran more or less parallel to a ridgeline that abruptly terminated near the settled area. They entered Jing’s Town from the south, and as expected, the first place of business was a saloon, The Meltan Arms as the sign proclaimed. Based on the tower with various antennae and broadcast arrays that protruded well into the sky above the place, it was also the likely site of the controller and ground station. Visible up the curving street were a few dozen other buildings and beyond that, tall structures Ord recognized as part of the operations involved in separating and processing ore from other materials.

  Teller gestured at the com arrays. “If that’s the com center, it’s probably a good candidate to have a spacer’s relay.” The pair went inside and walked to the bar.

  “The Meltan Arms are open to all,” one of the men behind the bar said as the two leaned on the bar top. “I’m Merlon Lopez, what can I do for you?”

  “Wondering if you had a spacer’s relay ‘round these parts.”

  Lopez pointed to the opposite side of the barroom. “Not a lot of straight’n narrows pass through, but enough to have a board.”

  “They don’t have to be straight or narrow to leave a message.”

  “I suppose that’s true. Sorta figured on those that might be slippery might not want to be found. What do I know, I’m a bar owner and smelter. I ride the Big Black from time to time, but don’t drive it. You aren’t looking for work are you? You two look sturdy enough.”

  “We’re spacers, not smelters. Have our own ship and everything.”

  Lopez chuckled. “That’s obvious, but beings can get down on their luck and have to work their way out of it. No shortage of work hereabouts. Pay’s decent too. Either of you know transit lines or space elevators?”

  Teller shook his head.

  “Too bad. You meet someone that has the knowing, send’em this way. Beings to process ore too.”

  “Nasty work,” Ord said with a dour expression. “Worse because of pollutants and toxins. Scoria is hard to work.”

  “Scoria?” Teller said.

  “Refuse from reduction of ores,” Ord said. “Can contain useful material, but tough work.”

  Lopez nodded. “You know the business? You’re right about that. Smydacorp left quite a mess. Toxic waste rock and tailings, discharged processing effluent, processing solutions, three kinds of mercury, and a long list of who knows what else.”

  “Why didn’t Smydacorp clean it up?” Teller asked. “Credits?”

  “You got it. No creds in the cleanup biz unless you’re in the cleanup biz… and Smydacorp’s not. Someone has to pay for cleanup, and that eats into profits. Pick backwater worlds or habform a place like this, make credits until the numbers say to move on, then move on. That’s what Smydacorp does and without much objection. There’s more beings want processed ore than want clean planets and processes. Simple and sad fact of the galaxy.”

  “There is still value to pull out of this place?”

  “Sure… if you’re willing to work for it. For some of us, this place is home, at least for a bit… maybe permanent. Might be a viable place if enough beings throw in. There’s always those that want to be clear of the Protectorates and Syndics of the galaxy. This might be one place they go.” Lopez shrugged. “We’re talking and you’re not drinking. That isn’t any proper way to run a bar, so….

  “A couple of ales.”

  “Ah,” Lopez said with a smile, “a man who gets it.”

  Once served, Tell and Ord carried their mugs to Meltan’s version of a spacer’s relay, an old, old-fashioned corkboard with impaled pulpsheets stuck to it. One message was a multi-pass relay listing Peachy as one of the parties, but it was more than two Standard Years old.

  The pair finished their ales and left.

  . . .

  Meltan was situated in an out of the way part of a star cluster, the not-so-distant neighboring suns providing a fair amount of illumination during the darker hours of night as the pair learned when they walked back to their landing pad. In the region where Jing’s Town was located, they were currently experiencing moderate daytime temps and chilly nights.

  The five beings spent the rest of the evening—and the following day as well—performing much needed maintenance on the ARC Lance, with Ursula adding several tech skills to her starship crew log file.

  As dark came on, they completed the last of the diagnostics and prepared to venture into Jing’s Town for a decent groundside meal if one were to be had, or a drink if it could not.

  The com unit buzzed, announcing an incoming message. “Heads up on Meltan,” the local ground station sent. “Got unknown ships coming out of slipspace and bound for here. Anyone needing to run might get the thrusters warm, just in case.”

  As they had on the three previous occasions of such announcements, everyone on board the Lance gathered in the common room to listen for more information. Each time before, the vessels were no threat. A short time later, another broadcast came over the speakers.

  “Word’s out. It’s bounty-hunters folks. If they’re here for you, don’t bring it into Jing’s Town or we’ll burn you down. You’re on your own. Putting down northside.”

  “They can’t be here for us, can they?” Ursula said.

  “How could they know we’re here?” Jessop said. “Even so, if they find out who we are, they’ll come for us, right?”

  Teller grimaced. “C’mon, the way things have happened so far this trip, you know they’re here for us. Somehow, some way, somebody let it slip. Even if I’m wrong, let’s be ready just in case.”

  “To arms,” Ord said.

  Teller nodded. “Exactly.”

  . . .

  “Somebody made a very rich someone very angry,” the Jing’s Town ground station announced. “Norg Fawcett and crew are dirtside. Whoever they’re after ought to make a run at slipspace. We’ll let you know who the other parties are. To all involved, keep clear of the town. It’s well marked, so don’t whine about not knowing. Any large and armed band of baddies come strolling into Jing’s should know we have enough thump to burn you down, so don’t try it.”

  “Should we run?” Jessop said.

  Both Teller and Ord shook their heads. “If he or the others have an armed ship or two up there waiting, forget about it,” Teller said. “They’d take us down pushing out of the atmosphere and there wouldn’t be much we could do about it. If they didn’t know we were coming, that’d be a different story. Until we know what we’re dealing with….”

  “That means fighting them down here?”

  “You got it.”

  “I cannot be certain if I can bring harm to another being in ground combat,” Ho said. “It is possible I may not be able to override the inhibitions placed on me.”

  Teller nodded. “What about stunning them? We have Merry Hell’s stunner. Actually, it’s the only other weapon we have.”

  “Range is too short,” Ord said. “Ho would need to be very close.”

  Teller looked at Ho and shook his head. “And that’s risky. Too risky.”

  “Can you throw accurately?” Ord asked the Mech.

  “I can.”

  “Doomcaster warheads can be thrown. Ord has some stun grenades.”

  “Set the arming distance to zero and they’ll pop on impact,” Teller said. “We can do that in just a few ticks.”

  . . .

  The five aboard ARC Lance stood near the active chart display, surveying a rudimentary map of the Jing’s Town
area they pulled from the ground station’s open files.

  “If Fawcett is here for us, they’ll have to go around town if the warnings meant anything.” Teller said. “I’m betting they do. That means he and his merry band of beings will go west, unless they disregard the hazard warnings to the east. We should go see what they’re doing. If they are here for some other reason, we pull off the shroud and go for the black.”

  “What if a couple of us walk into town and go north to this Fawcett’s landing pad?” Ned asked.

  “They might recognize those that go,” Ord said. “If they seek us.”

  “They may welcome such curiosity with violence in any case,” Ho added.

  Teller nodded in agreement. “I think we’d be best off going west and checking the routes over there. If this map is accurate, there aren’t many.”

  “Should we leave someone here?” Ursula said.

  Ord grumbled. “No. We lose firepower and strength. One staying behind cannot fend off a force.”

  Teller nodded again. “He’s right. It’s not easy to break into a starship, and if they intend to destroy the Lance, you don’t want to be in here if it happens. Keep them as far away from her as we can, I say.”

  . . .

  The five left the Lance and followed a road that took them just south of the town. Surrounded by high ground, the bluffs, ridges, and hills visible near and far made clear how rugged the terrain was. Many of the hills appeared to be easily traversable with gentle slopes, but there were also rocky crags and near vertical faces on many of the land features and with no vegetation, erosion was evident nearly everywhere.

  “This place is definitely new to the galaxy,” Teller opined.

  Ned chuckled. “It’s still trying to figure out what it wants to be when it grows up. A few trees would really spruce the place up.”

  “Not until long after we’re gone please,” Ursula said. “We don’t need bounty-killers hiding in bushes.”

  “Be careful,” Ord said. “Intersection ahead. Hills make us blind.”

  Teller nodded. The road they traveled upon terminated ahead at a T-intersection, the routes left and right obscured by inclines of dark soil and rock.