Hal Spacejock 4: No Free Lunch

by Simon Haynes

  Ideally, she’d load up with some heavy firepower and go in with all guns blazing, but even Peace Force officers couldn’t shoot suspects out of hand. In any case, she was unarmed. Not only that, Herringen was a powerful man, respected in the Forzen community, and the chances of arresting him and hauling him off to Dismolle were slim. She needed proof, she needed to be clever, and she needed to be very careful.

  Walsh opened the door and stepped out into the cold air. Her shoes crunched on the frozen earth, and she struggled to keep her footing as she followed the car tracks back to the road. The leaden clouds had turned the sky dark, and hardly any light permeated the gloom beneath the canopy. Sticking to the shadows, she made her way along the drive to the mine, where she spotted Herringen’s car. The office lights were off, but she could see a glow from within. His office, no doubt. The lair.

  Walsh entered the building, slipping past the reception desk on her way to the passageway beyond. Light spilled from Herringen’s office, and her heart thumped as she approached the doorway. Rush in? Tell him to surrender? Run away?

  ‘I can hear you!’ shouted Herringen. ‘One step and I’ll blow you apart!’

  * * *

  Clunk straightened up as he finished his inspection of the ship’s systems. ‘Remarkably, our hasty departure caused no lasting damage. However, it was still incredibly foolish.’

  ‘We had to leave in a hurry, Clunk. There’s a lot at stake here.’

  ‘Sure there is. You and Mr Spearman are level pegging in the intergalactic Most Stupid Human award, although your recent efforts might just have moved you into the lead.’

  ‘If you mention that pirate again I’m really going to have a gun turret fitted.’

  ‘Arm this ship and we’ll be penniless fugitives with a terrible reputation and no chance of earning an honest living.’ Clunk hesitated. ‘Granted, that’s not a whole lot different to our current situation, but at least we’re not fugitives.’

  ‘That’s what you —’

  ‘I’m picking up a Mayday signal,’ said the Navcom. ‘Lone vessel in trouble.’

  ‘Ignore it,’ said Hal.

  Clunk shook his head. ‘We have to render assistance. It’s the most basic of all space faring laws.’

  ‘Yeah, and it’s also the oldest trick in the book. All we’ll find is a beacon playing a looped message.’

  Clunk addressed the Navcom. ‘Trace that distress signal and —’

  ‘- Change course. Complying.’

  ‘Whoa, override!’ said Hal. ‘Clunk, it’s a trap.’

  ‘It can’t be. The penalties for sending a fake Mayday are extreme.’

  ‘What about the penalties for tearing my ship apart? Faking a fire alarm? Spearman’s behind this beacon thing too, I guarantee it.’

  Clunk stood firm. ‘The Navcom has already logged the call, and we have no option but to respond.’

  Hal swore. ‘If it IS a distress beacon, I want it brought aboard.’

  ‘Why? So you can incriminate the perpetrator?’

  ‘Not incriminate. Insert into.’

  ‘Source of the distress call is now in visual range,’ said the Navcom.

  Clunk’s hands darted over the console, and the stars on the main screen panned this way and that as he sought their quarry. ‘There it is.’

  Hal studied the viewscreen, but it contained nothing but stars. ‘What am I looking at?’

  ‘It’s right in the middle,’ said Clunk, pointing out a small dark patch.

  ‘It’s a bit big for a beacon.’

  ‘That’s because it’s a spaceship.’

  ‘A real one?’

  Clunk nodded.

  ‘Where’s the identifier? And why is it dark?’

  ‘All their systems are down.’

  ‘Can you light it up?’

  A crosshair appeared on the screen, and Clunk moved it over the dark patch, turning it white. Hal squinted at the glare and realised he was looking at the rear of a large freighter. It was angled away from them, but he could just make out three chrome strips glinting on the tail. ‘Is that who I think it is?’

  Clunk nodded. ‘Kent Spearman. And he’s in trouble.’

  * * *

  ‘I-I know you’re out there!’ shouted Herringen. ‘If you move, I swear I’ll —’

  ‘You’ll what?’ demanded Walsh. ‘Set your bugs on me? Make me disappear?’

  ‘Miss Walsh? Is that you?’

  ‘Who did you think it was?’

  ‘I thought you were dead, like the others! I waited and waited, and you never turned up!’

  Walsh heard the squeak of Herringen’s chair, and she backed away from the door as his footsteps approached. What if he skipped the bug attacks and just shot her in cold blood? However, when he appeared in the doorway he was pale and frightened … and unarmed. ‘I know what happened to Margaret Cooper,’ she said, her voice hard. ‘It was your miner bugs that got her, just as they got Newman.’

  Herringen opened his mouth, and Walsh could see the denials ready to burst forth. Then his shoulders slumped. ‘I can’t keep this up,’ he said softly. ‘It’s gone too far.’

  Walsh’s pulse quickened. ‘You’re willing to confess?’

  Herringen returned to his office and poured a large drink, his shaking fingers making the bottle rattle on the glass. ‘Production was down, and the town needed income to survive. So, I -I authorised a reduction in the buffer zone.’

  ‘The what?’

  ‘Our bugs are programmed to stay at least five metres below sea level.’ Herringen gulped his drink. ‘Unfortunately, most of the untapped deposits are above that depth, closer to the surface. Shaving a few metres off the safety zone unlocked vast reserves of ore.’

  ‘What does that have to do with Cooper?’

  ‘You know she lives in a valley?’

  ‘Yes, I went to her house. A very lonely place to die.’

  Herringen set his glass down, and there was a moment’s silence before he continued. ‘Her place is just below sea level. Not much, but enough to intersect with the new buffer zone. The bugs must have come through the floor and —’

  ‘Thanks, I can picture the rest.’ Walsh frowned. ‘Wait a minute. Are you trying to tell me Cooper’s death was an accident?’

  ‘Absolutely. Margaret was doing the accounts for one of the Council members, and when he went out there to deliver some files he discovered the house empty and the kitchen floor all broken up. We searched the house, the woods … everywhere. Then we had an emergency meeting.’ Herringen blinked. ‘The decision was unanimous. Newman would reprogram the bugs, and we’d fix the damage.’

  ‘We? Meetings?’ Walsh stared at him. ‘Are you saying others are involved?’

  ‘Of course they are!’ snapped Herringen. ‘You don’t think I laid a new floor myself, do you? One of the councillors has a construction business, another runs a tile company … the repair work was spread amongst us all.’

  Walsh felt the ground opening up under her feet. ‘The Council knew the truth about Cooper’s disappearance, and they covered it up?’

  ‘You don’t understand,’ said Herringen desperately. ‘There are dozens of licensing deals in the balance. A scandal like this would have ruined everything! Forzen would have suffered!’

  ‘And what’s one woman against the needs of a whole planet, right?’

  ‘Right!’

  Walsh felt bile rising in her throat. ‘And calling me in to look for her. What was that supposed to achieve?’

  ‘When the Residents Association started making enquiries, we pointed them in your direction. We figured you’d come over, have a look around and declare Margaret a missing person. An unsolved mystery.’

  ‘What made you think I’d follow your script?’

  ‘We knew your background. Barely two years in the Force, still a trainee, no cases to speak of …’ Herringen poured himself another stiff drink. ‘It seems we underestimated you.’

  ‘And what about Newman? You’re not going
to tell me his house is in a valley too?’

  ‘No, of course not.’

  ‘Then explain his death.’

  ‘I can’t,’ said Herringen simply.

  ‘Can’t or won’t?’

  ‘I —’ Herringen stared. ‘Oh my god. Newman!’

  ‘That’s right,’ said Walsh. ‘Spill it.’

  ‘No, Newman!’ said Herringen, pointing over her shoulder. He looked like he’d seen a ghost, and when Walsh turned round she realised why. It was Newman, and he was in a bad way.

  * * *

  Clunk worked the Volante’s controls, inching the freighter towards the Tiger. They had called her again and again, but Spearman’s ship remained as unresponsive as a lump of rock. During the approach Hal was strangely silent, where Clunk had expected him to gloat, or at least chuckle quietly to himself.

  After some final positioning Clunk lined up the airlocks and extended the passenger ramp. It looked ludicrous on the screen, like a staircase leading off the side of a cliff, but it was the quickest way to link the ships in flight. Once the ramp was extended Clunk entered the airlock, putting out his hand to prevent Hal from following. ‘I’ll go across first to check he’s okay.’

  ‘You don’t think he’s —’

  ‘I’m sure he’s fine.’

  ‘But I might be able to help!’

  Clunk shook his head. ‘There’s no time to suit up. Please, I know what I’m doing.’

  Reluctantly, Hal allowed Clunk to shut the door. As soon as the indicator lights came on the outer door swung open, and the air misted and vanished, sucked into the depths of space.

  Clunk went outside and stopped on the platform to get his bearings. The thin metal ramp extended into space like a rope bridge, with a sizeable gap between the far end and the Tiger’s airlock. Below, he could see the curvature of planet Forzen, whose citizens were blissfully unaware of the trapeze act about to take place over their heads.

  Clunk stepped onto the ramp, but instead of thumping solidly on the metal his foot pedalled in space. Down and up lost all meaning as he left the Volante’s gravity field, and just in time he shot out a hand to grab the guide rail. In the interests of speed he’d spurned a safety line, and he’d been so focussed on reaching the Tiger he’d forgotten all about the lack of gravity. If he lost his grip and sailed off into space, the idea of Hal trying to scoop him up with the Volante didn’t bear thinking about - with the human at the controls Clunk was more likely to end up in the engines than back inside the ship.

  Slowly, he reached for the guide rail, and by moving hand over hand he made his way across the slender bridge. When he reached the gap at the far end he hesitated, running mass and vector calculations as he eyed the distance to the Tiger. Then he launched himself across the gap towards Spearman’s ship.

  He expected to fly in a direct line, but as he got closer to the Tiger’s hull he felt a tug, and with a shock he realised the ship’s gravity field was still functioning. No longer weightless, his linear progression became a graceful arc, and with a certain amount of resignation he realised he was going to fall straight past the ship and down towards the planet far below.

  Chapter 27

  Newman swayed in the doorway, almost falling before Herringen reacted, hurrying across the office to take the younger man by the arm. Gently, Herringen led him to the nearest armchair, then reached for the bottle of scotch. ‘Get this down you, son,’ he said, handing Newman a glass. ‘Take it easy, all right?’

  Newman was a sorry sight: His clothes were torn, there was a gash on his forehead and his fingernails were broken and bleeding. None of this bothered Walsh in the slightest. ‘You can take it easy later,’ she said harshly. ‘Tell me what happened.’

  ‘The bugs, they …’ Newman drained the glass and held it out for more. ‘They’ve got smarter.’

  Walsh nodded grimly. ‘That’s what Barney suspected.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Peace Force robot. Ex. He said the bugs had to be pooling their intelligence.’

  Newman lowered his glass. ‘Linking up? Combining their primitive brains into a hive mind? But that’s —’

  ‘Never mind the analysis. Barney said you can stop them by broadcasting a deactivation command.’

  ‘We have to get down to the workshop.’ Newman finished his drink. ‘Is there anyone else here? The cleaners?’

  ‘No, just us,’ said Herringen.

  ‘Better get on with it then.’ Newman got up, and would have fallen if Herringen hadn’t caught his arm.

  ‘You should be in hospital, man.’

  ‘Later,’ muttered Newman. ‘Save the planet first.’

  They made their way to the lift, with Herringen supporting Newman and Walsh hoping he wouldn’t lose consciousness. He looked exhausted, but they needed his expertise.

  At the lift, Herringen entered his code, but the keypad just buzzed. ‘Damn thing’s picked a fine time to play up,’ he growled, trying again. Nothing.

  ‘Let me,’ said Newman. He entered a code and the door clicked open, letting them through. They filed into the lift, where Herringen slid the doors to. Immediately, the car dropped into the darkness, the rushing wind tearing at hair and clothes.

  Walsh glanced at Newman. ‘We really thought they’d got you. How did you escape?’

  ‘You saw my place?’

  Walsh nodded.

  ‘When they swarmed through the floor I went straight out the window, leapt into my car and drove like crazy.’ Newman touched a cut on his forehead. ‘I came to hours later, still strapped into the wreck. Must have missed a corner and gone straight into the ditch.’

  ‘Lucky escape.’

  ‘Yeah, and I didn’t have a bloody great Peace Force robot to protect me.’

  The lift arrived at the foot of the shaft, and Herringen opened the doors and stepped out. Walsh went to follow, then froze. She hadn’t mentioned the attack on the Peace Force, or Barney’s efforts to save her, so how did Newman know about them? She half-turned just as his raised arm came down towards her, whacking her on the side of the head. The terrific blow knocked her off her feet, and Herringen reached out to catch her in his arms. Her last conscious thought was that Newman too had been in on the cover-up and that maybe, just maybe, she’d found out too much.

  Then everything went dark.

  * * *

  Just as it seemed inevitable he was going to miss the Tiger and plunge towards Forzen, Clunk managed to grab the rim at the base of the airlock. His body slammed into the hull, and he held on grimly as the force of the collision almost bounced him off again. As he dangled there with planet Forzen far beneath his feet, Clunk reflected that he’d made two near-fatal mistakes in the past five minutes. He was unlikely to survive a third.

  Slowly, he inched his way around the frame until he could pull himself up to the controls. The panel flipped open at his touch, and he was about to open the airlock door when he spotted Spearman through the porthole, waving to attract his attention. Clunk turned cold at the sight. Didn’t Spearman know the first thing about airlock safety? He’d almost spaced him!

  Shaken by a third near miss, Clunk waved casually to reassure Spearman that he was now safely in his hands. Then he indicated he wanted him in the flight deck. While Spearman complied, Clunk turned and gave the Volante the thumbs up, hoping Hal wasn’t zoomed right in on the action. If he was, he, Clunk, would never live it down.

  Once Spearman was out of the way, Clunk opened the door and hauled himself in. Then he shut the outer door and cycled the airlock, letting himself into the flight deck.

  ‘Thank heavens you found me,’ said Spearman, reaching out to clap him on the shoulder.

  ‘Don’t touch me!’ exclaimed Clunk, backing away quickly.

  ‘Fine. Be like that.’

  ‘I’m not being funny, Mr Spearman. I’ve been exposed to vacuum, and my skin temperature is well below zero. Pat me if you wish, but not if you value your fingerprints.’

  ‘Ah. Good point.’
r />   Clunk frowned. ‘Then again, given that little episode on Forzen, perhaps I should have let you.’

  ‘You mean the fire alarm?’ Spearman looked embarrassed. ‘I’m sorry. It’s just that Spacejock was acting strangely, like he had a trick up his sleeve.’

  ‘They sprayed my ship with foam,’ said Clunk coldly. ‘They were going to blow the hull open with explosives.’

  ‘I didn’t get far myself, did I?’ Spearman gestured at the lifeless console. ‘It’s amazing how my engines stopped working the minute I left Forzen. I bet that had nothing to do with Hal bloody Spacejock.’

  ‘If that’s the case, why did we come to your aid?’

  ‘Spacejock’s after my cargo, that’s why.’

  ‘He doesn’t need it. He found another job.’

  ‘Really?’ Spearman looked surprised. ‘You mean he’s not after my container?’

  ‘No, he has his own.’ Clunk looked around the gloomy flight deck, which was illuminated by a pair of emergency lights. ‘So, what happened?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ confessed Spearman. ‘One minute I was powering along, and then everything died on me.’

  ‘You appear to have mastered the same diagnostic course as Mr Spacejock.’

  ‘Hey, I know my ship. The engines and generators shut down, and the error logs are a mess. It’s the why that’s puzzling me.’

  Clunk inspected the console. ‘It tripped the failsafe, from the look of it.’

  ‘Is that something you can fix?’

  Clunk shook his head. ‘Mr Spacejock and I will let the Dismolle people know you’re out here.’

  ‘Here, you can’t go!’ Spearman looked alarmed. ‘You’d be leaving me in danger. It’s against your programming!’

  ‘Dismolle will send someone to fetch you in a day or two. In the meantime your survival training will keep you alive.’