Space Crime Conspiracy

by Gareth P. Jones

  ‘Not far now,’ said Hal.

  But with the fight over, the picaroons were dispersing in all directions.

  ‘Hey, what’s that over there?’ shouted one.

  ‘It’s Hal and the boy,’ yelled another.

  ‘Run,’ said Hal.

  Stanley did his best, but he was hindered by the heavy container he was carrying. There came a terrifying clattering crescendo of noise as the picaroons gave chase, running around, over and through the bunks. Stanley and Hal stopped running when they saw that they were surrounded.

  ‘Get out of it, you filthy scoundrels. None of you would dare go against the captain’s orders,’ yelled Hal.

  The red-feathered picaroon jumped off a bunk and landed in front of them. Hal stepped back.

  ‘You want to know what I dare to do, Hal?’

  ‘Let us pass, Conur. You know what the captain said. The boy is off limits.’

  ‘And what about you, Hal? Is you off limits too? Me and some of the other pics think you’re getting too big for your boots, with your fancy disappearing tricks and your special privileges. You’re no picaroon and you’re no marauder neither. You’re nothing but a cook and cabin boy.’

  Hal swung his volt-dagger at Conur. ‘I’ll fight you any day, but not until I’ve taken the captain his dinner.’

  ‘His dinner, eh? I see you got the boy carrying that for you. Let me give you a hand with that, boy.’

  Hal stepped between Conur and Stanley. ‘You’ll back down now, Conur.’

  Conur growled. ‘No soft-beak’s going to tell me what to do.’ He went to raise his agoniser, but Hal swung his knife. Conur jumped back as the knife singed the feathers on his neck.

  ‘You should not have done that,’ snarled Conur. ‘Come on, boys.’ He turned his head to beckon his followers, but there was only one picaroon behind him now. A picaroon with blue and yellow feathers and a crack down the side of his orange beak.

  Captain Flaid smiled. ‘Mr Conur, I thought my instructions regarding this prisoner were clear.’

  ‘You won’t be captain for ever, Flaid,’ replied Conur in a low, threatening whisper.

  ‘You care to challenge me now?’ said Captain Flaid, holding his ground.

  Conur looked around for some support, but the other picaroons had fallen away. He sniffed and stepped back.

  ‘Another time then,’ said Captain Flaid. ‘Ah, and I see you’ve got my grub, Stanley Bound. Come on – you can join me in my cabin.’

  .

  33

  ‘They’re a rowdy dissenting bunch of reprobates, I’ll grant you that, but none of them has the guts to betray me’

  Captain Flaid’s cabin was behind a heavy metal door at the end of the crew’s quarters. Flaid opened the door using an electronic key attached to his belt. It was a lavishly decorated room, filled with all kinds of odd paraphernalia acquired from a long career in looting. Stanley stepped inside, but Flaid held Hal on the other side of the door.

  ‘Well done, Mr Hal. You’ve done well today. Very well indeed,’ said Flaid.

  ‘Thank you, Captain.’

  ‘Now, you watch out for Mr Conur. He’s in need of a proper dressing-down. I smell the stench of mutiny on his breath. So you mind how you go. He’ll either try to kill you or recruit you. You know which I’d prefer.’

  Captain Flaid slammed the door in his face and turned to face Stanley.

  ‘But shouldn’t you protect him from them?’ said Stanley.

  Flaid brought his face down to Stanley’s level, his beak pressing into Stanley’s cheek. ‘I see my boy Hal has won you over. Remember, if it wasn’t for him, you wouldn’t be here in the first place.’

  ‘I know, but there are hundreds of them and they don’t seem to like him any more than they like you.’

  ‘Are you suggesting my own crew don’t like me?’ snarled Captain Flaid.

  ‘They don’t seem to,’ replied Stanley.

  Flaid laughed. ‘They’re a rowdy, dissenting bunch of reprobates, I’ll grant you that, but none of them has the guts to betray me. Don’t worry about Hal. He’s survived long enough on my ship to be able to look after himself.’

  Stanley couldn’t explain why he cared so much about Hal, but he couldn’t let it go. ‘Surely if you treat him like that he’ll be more likely to betray you than give up his own life.’

  ‘Any pic that betrays me doesn’t live long to brag about it. I’ve had my fair share of challengers before and they’ve all ended up the same way. Space dust. Now, take a seat.’

  Flaid grabbed the pot from Stanley’s hands and pushed him backwards. He staggered, stumbled and tripped over a table, landing on a large black cushion in the corner of the room. Flaid set out two silver bowls. He opened the pot of broth, poured it into the bowls and brought one over for Stanley.

  ‘Here, eat this.’

  ‘I’m not hungry.’ Stanley didn’t fancy the idea of eating the disintegrated rottleblood, but he felt Spore kick him inside his pocket. ‘All right, I’ll take it.’

  ‘Good lad.’ Captain Flaid sat down at the table. ‘You first.’

  ‘What?’ Stanley had been planning to give his to Spore.

  ‘I said, you try it first. You were in the kitchen when it was made. You’ll have seen if any poison went in. And all this talk of mutiny has got me thinking. So you try it first.’

  Stanley picked up a spoon and sniffed at the broth. It actually smelt pretty good. He tasted it. It tasted just as nice as it smelt. Hal was a good cook. Stanley lapped it up, trying not to think about the dying screams of the rottleblood, until he felt Spore kick him again. Satisfied that the food was fine, Flaid gobbled down his broth too. The thick brown liquid oozed out of the crack in the side of his beak as he greedily ate.

  Stanley surreptitiously lowered a chunk of something down to Spore, but as Spore disappeared back into his pocket with it, the movement must have caught Captain Flaid’s eye because he looked over. ‘You up to something, lad?’

  ‘I was just wondering if there was a planet full of picaroons somewhere so I can avoid it,’ said Stanley as a distraction.

  Captain Flaid laughed and brought his flat palm down on the table with a loud bang. ‘There was a planet once as it happens, but that’s gone. Thanks for bringing it up. I love to dwell on the annihilation of my own planet and the genocidal destruction of its population. It makes me feel warm inside.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Stanley. ‘Was it the Armorians?’

  ‘No, it were ourselves. We were a warring kind of world, you see. We had so many wars going on that sometimes you didn’t know who you were fighting against. We spent all our time fighting or making weapons or planning our next fight. Of course, when the Armorians came along they sold us even better weapons, the problem being that once you get bigger, better weapons you get bigger, better wars. So many were dying, the population was actually going down, but that was OK because there weren’t enough farmers, see, so there was less food. Then the chemical weapons made the water undrinkable. The smart pics got off the planet at that point, because it wasn’t long before they made the air unbreathable and the whole planet collapsed in on itself. It ain’t much more than a shell now.’

  ‘So you were one of the ones who got away?’

  ‘Yep. I built this ship myself and I been here ever since.’

  ‘How many other ships are there?’

  ‘I wouldn’t know. I mean, I’ve destroyed a dozen or so of them over the years, but there’s bound to be more out there.’

  ‘You mean you carried on fighting your own people?’

  ‘Fighting, looting, pillaging and marauding, that’s what picaroons do. That’s how we are. Now, you just relax and get some sleep.’

  He pulled a lever behind him and Stanley felt braces clamp round his arms and legs. He looked down and realised that the black cushion he was sitting on was wrapping itself round him. He tried to wriggle, but felt the cushion tighten around his limbs.

  ‘I call this my crushion.’<
br />
  The crushion was now squeezing Stanley’s head as well as crushing his bones.

  ‘I’m not sure what its real name is. That’s the thing about looting – so often you take things that don’t have the proper instructions with them. I’ve figured out how it works though. The more you try to escape, the more it hurts you. I’ve seen it kill people who really wouldn’t relax. Once you learn not to fight it becomes more comfortable than you thought possible. So just lie back and catch some sleep. You’re going to need your energy to survive on this ship.’

  Stanley stopped struggling and instantly the crushion settled down. Flaid was right. It was fantastically comfortable and, in spite of his circumstances, Stanley was tired. He hadn’t slept since the night on the hard bench in the Bucket cell and this was infinitely preferable. He yawned and soon fell into a deep sleep.

  .

  34

  ‘With a hundred billion Armorian dollars, I might just buy me a planet to retire on, somewhere to grow old in a manner as befits an old space bird like me’

  ‘I thought I told you never to contact me, Flaid. You know how this would look – the commander of the AIP force talking to the most wanted marauder in the universe?’

  ‘Yeah, well, I’ve got something you need, so I have, Jax.’

  The voices drifted into Stanley’s dream.

  ‘Hold on, let me check this line is secure . . . All right. Make it quick.’

  ‘I got a guest by the name of Stanley Bound.’

  Hearing his own name, Stanley awoke. He remembered where he was. He felt the comfort of the cushion but knew that it would turn to pain if he tried to move.

  ‘If this is one of your tricks . . .’

  ‘It’s no trick. He’s sleeping in this very room.’

  The voices belonged to Captain Flaid and Commander Kevolo. Kevolo’s sounded like it was coming through a speaker. It lowered to an angry hiss. ‘Are you out of your mind, Flaid, contacting me while he’s there?’

  ‘Don’t worry. He’s fast asleep. I checked before I called you. Now, how about this reward?’

  ‘You think you can snatch a wanted criminal from our hands and then demand payment for his return?’

  ‘The boy wasn’t in your custody when we took him,’ said Captain Flaid.

  ‘My own officers were about to catch him.’

  ‘I don’t know nothing about that. I just wants my reward for being a good citizen and handing him in.’

  There was a moment’s pause before Commander Kevolo spoke again. ‘Oh, all right. Bring him to the Bucket and you’ll get your reward.’

  ‘No, not the Bucket and I wants special rates. I wants double what you’re offering.’

  ‘Double?’

  ‘Double or no deal. Now, how badly do you want him brought to . . . what’s that word you always like to use? Oh yes, justice.’

  ‘You’re a filthy fiend, Flaid.’

  ‘Just the way you like me. Now do we have a deal?’

  ‘I’ll need more time to get hold of that kind of money.’

  ‘Three Armorian days and I’ll meet you on the dead planet Lunkit.’

  ‘No. That’s too near Armoria. I can’t be seen doing deals with marauders.’

  ‘That’s the point. Being so close to home, you’ll have to be discreet, won’t you? No surprises. No ambushes. If I get any hint of a double-cross I’ll kill the boy and blow every ship out the starry sky and you know I have the arsenal to do it. How would that look on the midday news?’

  ‘You’re a conniving criminal, Captain Flaid.’

  ‘Save your sound bites, Jax. Have we got ourselves a deal?’

  ‘I’ll be there with the money.’

  ‘Music to my ears.’

  ‘But after this, things change. Once I’ve given you this money, you’re fair game. No more concessions. So you’d better spend the money on your retirement because my officers will come after you.’

  ‘With a hundred billion Armorian dollars, I might just buy me a planet to retire on, somewhere to grow old in a manner as befits an old space bird like me. As usual it is a pleasure doing business with you, Jax.’

  There was a click and Stanley guessed that the communication link had been terminated. He heard a rustling noise as Captain Flaid crossed the room. He pretended to sleep, not scrunching his eyes tight but making them seem gently closed and keeping his breathing regular. It was no easy task with his heart pounding away in his chest. He smelt Captain Flaid’s breath as he leaned over to check on him. Flaid snorted to himself and muttered, ‘Good lad. You, Stanley Bound, are going to make me a rich old bird.’

  .

  35

  ‘I may look different to the others, but when I look at you I see the same as they do: a bag of loot in a blue jacket’

  The next day when Stanley awoke, Captain Flaid released him from the crushion.

  ‘Sleep well?’ he asked, eyeing him closely.

  ‘Yes, thanks,’ replied Stanley, giving nothing away.

  Captain Flaid opened the door to the crew’s quarters. Hal was waiting outside.

  ‘Look after our guest, Mr Hal. I have business to attend to,’ said Captain Flaid.

  Stanley stayed under Hal’s protection for the rest of the day, most of which was spent in the kitchen, where they couldn’t be bothered by the other picaroons. On the occasions when they had to venture into the main body of the ship, Hal had to spend most of his time fighting them off.

  Perhaps because of this, Stanley began to think of the kitchen as a sanctuary. Even the rottlebloods seemed less disgusting. Not cute exactly, but more like strange pets than filthy intruders. He also enjoyed Hal’s company. He was easy to talk to.

  ‘So, master criminal, how did you get past the security and kill the president?’ Hal asked. He was thinly chopping some kind of round yellow vegetable.

  ‘I didn’t do it.’

  ‘I saw the footage of the president’s death on the news and it looks like you.’ He gesticulated at the TV in the corner of the room.

  ‘I know, I’ve seen it too.’

  ‘But you’re sure it’s not?’

  ‘Before I was arrested I’d never even left Earth. I think I’d remember flying to another galaxy and killing a president.’

  ‘Maybe you blacked out . . . or . . . or you did it in your sleep.’ Hal poured the chopped vegetable into a frying pan. ‘Or perhaps you were in a trance. Or . . . what about, it is you, but it’s you in the future and you went back in time so you haven’t even done it yet.’

  ‘Is that possible?’

  ‘Time travel’s tricky, but I’ve heard of people doing it. You have to fly through a supernova or something, which is risky enough, but there are other problems too. There was a funny story at the end of the news the other day about a guy who hated being born poor, so he went back to give his dad information to make him rich. You know, racing tips and that. His dad, though, he didn’t approve of that sort of thing and didn’t much like his son for doing it so as a result he decided not to have children at all. So just like that the son suddenly vanished from existence. The funny thing was that by selling his story, the dad then became incredibly rich. Not sure whether it was true, but it was a good story.’

  ‘I don’t think I would kill the president in the future. Quil Tisket said he was a good man.’

  ‘So if you’re sure it wasn’t you, don’t you want to find out who it was?’

  ‘Of course I do, but how can I? Even if I wasn’t trapped on this ship, I wouldn’t know where to start.’

  ‘If it was me I’d start with Vorlugenar. I mean, what do you know about this guy you’re supposed to have killed?’

  ‘Nothing, and it’s a bit late now, isn’t it? What with him being dead.’

  ‘The president was the most important man in the universe. There’s bound to be loads of information on him. If I knew I hadn’t killed someone, I’d try to find out as much as I could about the man everyone thought I’d killed.’

  ‘You could
help me.’

  Hal laughed. ‘No way.’

  ‘But you could at least help get me off the ship.’

  ‘Sorry, I don’t want to give you the wrong idea. I like you, but I’m still a marauder. This ship has been my home since I was a baby and I’ve got no plans to leave. Besides, you’re worth fifty billion dollars. Flaid will take most of it, of course, but we’ll get our cut, and he said that if I did a good job of keeping you alive I’d be getting a special bonus.’

  ‘And you trust Captain Flaid?’ Stanley considered telling Hal what he had heard the previous night, but he knew how dangerous that would be.

  ‘There ain’t much trust on this here ship, but Flaid has never done badly by me. He brought me up as his own when he could have had me thrown into one of his broths. He’s been like a father to me.’

  ‘What happened to your real father?’

  ‘I don’t know. Never knew him.’

  ‘Would he have been a stepper too?’

  ‘I guess so. They say it runs in families.’

  ‘But you won’t help me get off the ship?’

  ‘Not a chance. As I say, I may look different to the others, but when I look at you I see the same as they do: a bag of loot in a blue jacket.’

  ‘Then I’ll have to find my own way to escape.’

  ‘Escape from the Black Horizon? Pull that off and I’ll start believing you are a master criminal.’

  .

  36

  ‘You never heard the expression that curiosity killed the rottleblood?’

  For the rest of the day and the following one, Stanley kept an eye out for an escape plan. He saw no reason to hide this from Hal, who, far from being concerned by his intention to escape, found it extremely funny.

  Stanley’s first thought was the teleport deck.

  ‘You mean the teleport deck which is manned around the clock by at least three picaroons, all of them armed with agonisers?’ Hal smirked.

  ‘Yes,’ admitted Stanley.