Hal Spacejock 4: No Free Lunch

by Simon Haynes

  Startled by Hal’s outburst, she began to apologise. ‘I’m sorry, I know we said the gates, but —’

  ‘No, it’s fine. I’m sorry, I thought you were one of the workers.’

  ‘Yeah, I always polish ships in this outfit.’

  Hal realised he was staring. He snapped his mouth shut and offered his gifts. ‘It’s not much,’ he said gruffly. ‘Sort of useful, though.’

  ‘Nice socks!’ Walsh turned the packet over. ‘They’ll keep me lovely and warm in winter.’

  ‘And I thought you could use the polish on your badge. You know, when they give you one.’

  ‘Thanks, Hal. I’m sorry, I didn’t bring you anything.’

  ‘Hey, don’t worry about it.’ Hal glanced down the ramp and saw the Peace Force cruiser. No wonder the workers had disappeared. ‘Shall we?’

  Once they were strapped in Walsh started the engine, and Hal was impressed as a deep rumble shook the vehicle. ‘What have you got under the bonnet?’

  ‘Dual matter converters with a custom afterburner.’

  ‘Fast?’

  ‘Hang on to your hat,’ said Walsh with a grin. She tapped a button on the touchscreen and the car shot away from the Volante, tearing past the hangars at speed.

  ‘So where are we going?’ asked Hal as they whizzed through the gates. ‘The Governor’s Ball?’

  ‘No, it’s a business do at the local function centre, but the food’s good and they usually have a band.’

  ‘Did you say business?’

  ‘Yeah, a renovations firm.’ Walsh made a face. ‘The owner’s a bit of a cow, but she knows how to throw a party.’

  With a shock, Hal connected the dots. ‘This owner. It’s not Miranda Morgan is it?’

  ‘Yes! Do you know her?’

  ‘Only in a business sense. And you?’

  Walsh nodded. ‘She’s a backstabbing witch. Dishonest, deceitful and vicious.’

  ‘So, a good friend then?’

  Walsh laughed. ‘She only asks me along so she can put me down in front of everyone. I usually swallow my pride … along with her posh grub.’

  ‘Nothing better than free,’ remarked Hal. Then he remembered Clunk, and his breathing stopped as he realised he and the robot were attending the same function. Could he talk Walsh into a restaurant instead? But no, he was broke and couldn’t even afford a takeaway joint. It was Morgan’s or nothing.

  * * *

  Walsh threaded the cruiser through the traffic with little fuss and a lot of speed. Most other vehicles cleared out of their way, due in no small part to the flashing lights and wailing siren.

  ‘I could really use some of this gear on my ship,’ said Hal, visibly impressed.

  ‘Why, what sort of traffic do you meet in the depths of space?’

  ‘It’s not deep space, it’s all the queuing up for landing slots.’

  ‘Does that happen often?’

  ‘Not really. But when it does, I’d love to blast them with a horn or two.’

  ‘But sound doesn’t travel in space.’

  ‘Er, no. Of course not.’

  ‘Just as well, really. If it did you’d have inconsiderate morons blasting their crappy music all over the galaxy.’ Walsh sounded the horn at a slow-moving car, and when the driver turned to look she gestured at him. Then they were past, rocketing down the wrong side of the road at breathtaking speed.

  Hal gripped the armrest and said nothing.

  A few minutes later they turned into the car park and drove towards the function centre, which had a broad staircase leading up to a grand entrance. A crowd had gathered at the top of the stairs, a group of grey-haired couples greeting each other prior to entering the function room, and they turned to stare as the Peace cruiser roared by.

  ‘I like to make an entrance,’ said Walsh, oblivious to Hal’s discomfort. ‘Show the badge. Let them know I’m around.’

  Hal shrunk under the disapproving glares. ‘Trust me, they know.’

  Walsh slotted the car into a loading bay, killing the siren. She checked her reflection in a mirror, pursed her lips and teased up her hair, then smiled at Hal and got out.

  They met at the front of the car, where Hal offered his arm. Walsh took it, and they crossed the car park and climbed the steps to the entrance, passing under an archway decorated with coloured streamers. Under the battery of twinkling lights Hal felt like a movie star on opening night, and as they approached the other guests he drank deeply from their envious glances. Who was this handsome stranger? Was he really a pilot, criss-crossing the galaxy without a thought for the incredible danger? And didn’t Harriet Walsh look gorgeous? Hal couldn’t hear the actual words but they were written plain as day in the watching faces, and he nodded graciously as the crowd parted to let them through.

  Miranda Morgan was waiting at the door, sheathed in a glittering blue-green dress with a plunging neckline and a deep split up the side. A jade necklace and matching earrings set off the deep green of her eyes, and as she spotted Hal she squealed and stepped forward with outstretched arms. ‘Why, it’s Mr Spacejock!’ she cried. ‘You’re Harriet’s mercy date? But don’t you look simply divine!’ She folded him into her embrace, and he froze as she whispered in his ear. ‘Leave now or you can kiss that cargo job goodbye.’

  Hal extricated himself. ‘Yes, er, it’s great to be here. Fantastic.’

  Morgan turned her attention to Walsh. ‘Harriet, how delightful.’

  ‘Miranda,’ said Walsh curtly.

  ‘Such a charming outfit,’ gushed Morgan. ‘It’s amazing what you can pick up on a budget.’

  ‘Yes, and they even remembered to sew the sides up.’

  ‘It’s so good to see you out of that ghastly uniform, my dear. I swear, sometimes I wonder if you sleep in it.’

  Hal winced as the grip on his arm tightened. ‘So, you two are pretty close then,’ he said, working desperately to break the ice.

  ‘Like sisters,’ said Morgan.

  ‘Mother and daughter,’ said Walsh.

  Morgan flushed, but Hal got in before the inevitable retort. ‘Bit chilly out here. Shall we go in?’

  ‘Is that wise?’ Morgan frowned at him. ‘I thought you had urgent business at the spaceport?’

  ‘Just another problem customer. It can wait.’ Hal turned and led Walsh towards the door.

  ‘Mind the step,’ called Morgan. ‘It’s a bit tricky if you’re not used to high heels.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I left mine on the ship,’ Hal called over his shoulder.

  Walsh giggled.

  They walked into a crowded room, where a group of musicians on a raised platform were playing a soft little number. The mood lighting gleamed on their instruments, bouncing off the polished wood and brass, and then Hal’s attention was captured by the lavish spread on the buffet table at the far end of the room. Despite the dim lighting he identified a whole range of delights: dishes of cold meats, great bowls of salads and a gigantic roast right in the middle. Behind the table stood a chef in full whites with a big floppy hat drooping over his face. He was sharpening a huge carving knife, drawing the blade across a whetstone with a slow riisk, riisk that penetrated the crowd noise and set Hal’s teeth on edge. The movement was methodical, almost mechanical, and then he realised the chef was a robot. As if it had registered his gaze, the robot lowered the knife and stared right at him. It was Clunk. Hal turned away quickly, pretending not to have seen him. ‘Fancy a drink?’ he asked Walsh.

  ‘Thanks! I’ll have an orange juice.’ Walsh stood on tiptoe and peered over the crowd. ‘That buffet looks good.’

  ‘I wouldn’t go near it,’ said Hal. ‘Really. You can get all kinds of horrible bugs when food’s left out like that.’

  ‘I didn’t know you were a health nut.’

  Riiisk!

  ‘I’m not putting my life in danger for a bit of cold meat.’

  ‘Go on. It looks great. And the chef’s about to carve something!’

  ‘I know,’ muttered Hal.
>
  ‘All right, why don’t I get the drinks while you go to the buffet? Load me up a plate, and pick out a few safe things for yourself.’

  ‘No, you wait here. I’ll get the drinks.’ Hal made a dash for the bar, almost knocking several elderly couples flying in his haste. When he got there a cocktail waitress was pouring drinks for a tall, dark-haired man in a classy dinner jacket. The man looked out of place, and it was a moment or two before Hal realised why: apart from himself and Walsh, he was the only other guest in the place under retirement age.

  Meanwhile, the man nodded his thanks and passed the waitress a couple of credits. ‘Something for your trouble.’

  The woman looked surprised. ‘Thank you, sir!’

  The man turned with his drinks and almost collided with Hal. ‘Watch where you’re going,’ he snapped, barely saving himself from a shower.

  ‘Watch it yourself,’ muttered Hal.

  The man looked Hal up and down, his gaze lingering on the suit. ‘Do they extrude those in batches or pump them out to order?’ he said with a smirk.

  Before Hal could react the man was gone. He put him out of his mind and ordered his drinks, then returned to Walsh. She was holding a couple of plates, and Hal’s heart sank at the sight. One was laden with ham and roast beef, potato salad, pasta salad, tuna salad, egg salad and several kinds of cheese, while the other held a lettuce leaf, a small carrot and a celery stick. ‘I thought these looked pretty safe,’ said Walsh, offering Hal the latter.

  Reluctantly, Hal took it. ‘You shouldn’t have,’ he said, with a longing glance at the cold meats.

  Walsh tucked into her meal, putting the food away with surprising speed. In fact, by the time Hal finished his lettuce she was mopping her plate with a bread roll. ‘Delicious,’ she said. ‘Time for seconds.’

  Hal took her arm. ‘Wait a bit. Let it go down.’

  ‘Don’t worry about me. Cast iron stomach.’

  Rrrisssk!

  ‘So, did the chef say anything?’

  ‘He recommended the ham.’ Walsh gave him a curious look. ‘You know, he looked remarkably like your robot.’

  Hal choked on his carrot, and Walsh thumped him on the back as he wheezed and spluttered. ‘What’s the matter? Is there something I should know?’

  ‘It is Clunk,’ managed Hal, when he could breathe again.

  ‘Really?’

  Hal nodded. ‘Hired him out to Morgan.’

  ‘Why are you avoiding him then?’

  ‘He thought he was invited to serve an ambassadorial role. Instead, he’s serving rolls to ambassadors.’

  ‘Is that why you didn’t want anything from the buffet? ’

  Rrrisssk!

  Hal nodded.

  ‘So you made up all that rubbish about killer meats?’ Walsh laughed. ‘I knew you weren’t a fussy eater.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I —’

  ‘Give it here,’ said Walsh, taking his plate. Before he could stop her she returned to the buffet and piled it high with cold chicken, pasta and slices of roast beef. She topped it off with a dollop of pickle and made her way back through the crowd. ‘Here,’ she said, passing the plate to Hal. ‘Wrap yourself around that, you big dummy.’

  Chastened, Hal did as he was told. The food was excellent, several cuts above the recycled dishes served by the Volante’s AutoChef, and the plate was clean in no time.

  ‘More?’ asked Walsh.

  Hal shook his head.

  ‘Right. Let’s dance.’ Walsh took his hand and led him to the middle of the room, where couples moved gracefully to the music. Hal protested his lack of skill and the large dinner, but Walsh would have none of it. She took his hand, placed it firmly on her waist and smiled up at him. ‘Think of it as a voyage of discovery.’

  Much later, when Hal was reminiscing about the evening, he was sure they’d only danced for a few minutes, and was stunned when Clunk told him it was close to an hour. At first he was clumsy, treading on his partner’s toes and barging into other couples, but he gradually got the hang of it until they twirled around the room with abandon, Walsh’s laughter only serving to spur him on.

  Then the music stopped, and Morgan took to the stage with a microphone. Walsh squeezed Hal’s hand and whispered a thank you, but before he could reply Morgan launched into her speech.

  ‘Darling guests, thank you so much for your presence tonight. Give yourselves a round of applause!’

  The clapping was enthusiastic, and when it died down she continued. ‘Thank you, thank you. Now, I know many of you have enjoyed my service in the past —’

  ‘You’re not wrong,’ muttered Walsh.

  ‘But there are many more of you I’ve yet to work for. I’m sure there are decorating disasters just waiting for my professional touch, and when you look at that sagging wallpaper and cracked plaster I want you to think of me.’

  Walsh laughed explosively, then turned it into a cough as several guests frowned at her.

  Morgan paused. ‘Harriet, dear. Please don’t choke yourself. And that reminds me, I’ve yet to see the inside of your apartment, though I’m guessing it could really use some work.’ Her lip curled. ‘Perhaps your gentleman friend can give me a damage report in the morning?’

  The crowd snickered, and the blood drained out of Walsh’s face. For a moment Hal thought she was going to launch herself at the stage, but then she relaxed. ‘Is afternoon okay with you? I like my breakfast in bed.’

  The crowd laughed, and Morgan looked like she’d swallowed a boiled egg. Then she recovered. ‘So, I’d like you all to pick up one of my new brochures, and if I don’t hear from you in the next few days I’m going to be very, very cross! Now, eat up and enjoy the wine!’

  Morgan handed the microphone to the nearest musician, and the crowd applauded as she left the stage. ‘What the hell was that all about?’ Hal asked Walsh.

  Walsh sighed. ‘She’s always had it in for me. Treats the whole planet like her own little social club, and I don’t fit the membership profile.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘She sees me as competition. It’s stupid, really. I mean, I wouldn’t touch the blokes she fancies with a ten foot pole.’ Walsh snorted. ‘Did you know she tried to get up a petition to have me thrown out of the Peace Force?’

  ‘No!’

  Walsh nodded. ‘I gave her a couple of speeding tickets and she claimed I was harassing her.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘She only got one signature on the petition.’ Walsh grinned. ‘And I gave her three more speeding tickets.’

  ‘So why does she invite you to her parties?’

  Walsh looked away. ‘She thought I’d have to come alone. Again.’

  ‘That explains something.’ Hal lowered his voice. ‘I’m supposed to be doing this cargo job for her. When we arrived tonight she said she’d take the job away unless I stood you up.’

  ‘And you stayed anyway?’ Walsh squeezed his hand. ‘You’re a gentleman.’

  Hal looked pleased. ‘I’ve never been called that before.’

  ‘You know, I could probably dig up some dirt. We could blackmail her into giving you the job back.’

  ‘Isn’t that illegal?’

  ‘Depends how I fill out the paperwork.’

  ‘Even so …’ Hal’s voice tailed off as he spotted Morgan talking to the tall, dark-haired man he’d bumped into at the bar. They were deep in conversation, and Hal led Walsh through the crowd until they were just within earshot.

  ‘I’ll do the transfer before you leave,’ he heard Morgan saying.

  ‘But you promised —’ Then the man noticed Hal, and gave Morgan a warning glance.

  ‘So, it’s the lovely couple in person.’ Morgan turned to the man beside her. ‘This is Jonathan Newman, a VIP from the Panther Mining Company on planet Forzen, and he’s come all the way to Dismolle for my little gathering!’

  ‘From what I’ve heard,’ said Walsh, ‘it’s not that little.’

  Newman looked Hal up and
down. ‘So you’re the pilot, eh? I’d have thought clumsiness was a bit of a drawback in your line of work.’

  Morgan’s laughter was like a shower of broken glass. ‘Oh, Jon!’ she said, laying a hand on his arm. ‘You’re such a card!’

  ‘Not quite,’ said Walsh. ‘He won’t have patterns on his back until after you’ve played him.’

  ‘And this is our tame copper,’ said Morgan. ‘They won’t give her a real gun, so she goes around shooting her mouth off instead.’

  ‘Peace Force, eh?’ Newman sipped his drink. ‘Do you catch a lot of evildoers?’

  ‘Not many on Dismolle, no. Most people are very well behaved around here.’

  ‘I saw you dancing earlier.’ Newman put his hand out. ‘Would you do me the honour?’

  ‘Me?’ Walsh glanced at Hal. ‘I, er …’

  ‘Go on. Enjoy.’ Hal watched them leave, then realised his fists were clenched.

  ‘Now it’s just you and me,’ said Morgan.

  ‘No, it’s just you,’ said Hal, turning for the bar.

  ‘Wait!’ Morgan grabbed his arm. ‘Why didn’t you dump her when I told you to? I warned you I’d take the job away!’

  ‘I don’t take threats from anyone, least of all customers. Anyway, I made a promise to a lady.’

  ‘Oh, nice comeback!’ Morgan grinned. ‘I like you, Spacejock. You’re a cut above the usual wimps. You’ve got balls.’

  Over the crowd, Hal could see Newman and Walsh dancing together. Just then, Walsh laughed at a joke, and Hal felt a tightening in his throat.

  Morgan followed his gaze. ‘They make a good couple, don’t they?’

  ‘Isn’t he with you?’

  ‘We do business together. I’m amazed he’s still single, though. Wealthy, a stable job, good prospects … eligible bachelor doesn’t begin to cover it.’

  Hal said nothing, but the lights seemed to have lost their sparkle and the music was grating on his nerves. Wouldn’t they ever stop?

  ‘You look like you could use a drink,’ said Morgan. ‘What do you flyboys take? Doubles or trebles?’