by M. Pax
The magnet. Craze looked up, studying every shadow for movement, but he couldn’t detect the mystery folks. There had to be at least one above him to get the attaché of chips off the powerful magnet. Where were the others and how many? Another wild card in tonight’s scheme. He opened his ears wide to learn all he could, hoping the aviarmen had discovered more intel on the smugglers.
Another clunk disturbed the darkness. The hum stopped, replaced by the roaring engine of a generator. The pulleys lurched, squeaking as they turned. Craze spied a cube swinging above him. Light leaking in from the lamps outside weakly glinted off the large hook and chains. Gyrating like a pendulum, a pallet of crates groaned toward the floor, landing with a solid thunk.
As commanded by the smugglers, Craze kept his hands visible and his mouth shut. He stretched his fingers wide apart, knowing the aviarmen watched for his signals, subtle motions they’d worked out earlier.
Excitement trembled through Craze’s knees as he approached the pallet. His fingers shook unhooking it from the line that had lowered it. The symbols on the crates were strange, not anything Craze had seen before. A white circle with four thick red lines. He’d heard about it though. It marked the Foreworlds.
Shit. The worse situation he’d imagined could be possible. Like chocolate, frizzers only came from the Foreworlds. Backworlders wouldn’t touch the cruel weapons that burned the skin and calcified bone. Horrid, horrid things. It was a huge bother that some Backworlders wanted those guns and would stoop to using them. That went beyond dastardly to traitorous.
He wanted to signal the aviarmen, his first two fingers snuggled tight against his thumbs, to call in the authorities, but it was too soon. The smugglers hadn’t sent the codes. He hadn’t gotten his hands on the chocolate. He desperately needed a return on his investments in this venture. Just one sack full of chocolate would help him and the aviarmen establish a great life out on the Edge.
Codes flashed in light on the floor. Craze punched the icons and numbers into the keypad on the first crate. The carton slid open with a soft whoosh. He placed the gum from his mouth over the latching mechanism to prevent it from resealing. The door opened and shut in a loop as it hit the sticky obstruction. Craze wiggled his left index and middle fingers for the aviarmen. The response came almost instantly.
Eptus streamed in from where they’d been hiding on the fourth floor. Square torsos with powerful limbs, they moved more agilely than their frames suggested. Enormous ears pivoted on their heads, which were canine in nature. So were their noses. Barking and shooting flash guns, they descended into Mr. Slade’s Emporium.
Craze covered his eyes against the blinding weapons fire. Stumbling, he grabbed onto the crate for balance. He missed. His hand sank into the chocolates, coming up with a frizzer. Craze yelped. The Eptus shot all around him, too close to be trusted. He dropped the forbidden gun and ran toward the shelf with the rice, slashing at the sacks with his fingernails.
The grains spilled out, falling to the floor as they depleted the sacks of their ballast in a rush. The bags lightened, and the jar of pickled snoink pulled them up off the shelf. The jar sank until the heavy glass hit the magnet switch and broke with a crack then a tinkle. Blackened shards, feet and tails, and pickle juice rained down, inciting the Eptus into a rage. They fought each other to snap up the brined morsels, grabbing, shoving, biting, swallowing without chewing.
The chocolates flew up, their metal foil wrappings attracted to the magnetic field. The layer of chocolate bars was thinner than Craze would have liked, but as few as thirty bars would allow him to recover the money he had spent and make a decent profit to share with Talos and Lepsi.
While the Eptus busied themselves vying for pickled feet and tails, Craze scrambled for the stairs. Two people draped in black stood under the pulley system holding a bag under the magnet. They turned off the power, chocolates dropped into their sack. The dark figures snatched up the few bars that escaped onto the floor, then their palms faced Craze, open and pale. They clenched their hands into fists three times before running down to the second floor and into the deep shadows. Craze sure hoped the chocolate takers were Talos and Lepsi. Their signals said so, but their mimicking of the smugglers was spot-on enough to stir up doubt.
He chased after them, his coveralls working hard, his lungs laboring in air not as enriched as Siegna’s. Eyelids fluttering and thoughts slowing down, his body threatened to hibernate. To avoid it, he had to slacken his pace, letting the distance between him and the chocolate grow. His lungs filled more easily and he no longer felt an overwhelming urge to sleep.
Seven seconds later, the patrol siren blasted through Mr. Slade’s Emporium. Much too early. They hadn’t made it out of the building yet. Craze shouted at the aviarmen, gesturing wildly to cut the blaring horn. They didn’t hear and didn’t see, racing toward the room with the window leading to the balcony next door.
Craze sprinted after them, a good twenty feet behind. He leapt out of the window and onto the plank, shimmying over to the restaurant terrace. About to jump over to the deli, he was stopped in mid-air. Three pairs of hands pulled him back and handcuffed him to a pipe.
Several badges flashed past Craze. Blinking red and blue lights joined the sirens. The earlier alarm hadn’t come from the toy Craze purchased at Must Have Gear for the Edge. It had come from real patrollers. Swarms of them swathed in lime green.
The brightly colored uniforms ran past him, intent on Mr. Slade’s Emporium, pouring through every door and window, raiding the failed deal. Eptus howled. Amplified patroller voices barked orders. Craze wondered about Gattar and the mystery folks in black. Had they gotten away? He doubted the Jix would pay him now and tugged at his binds. They and the pipe held solid. Shit.
Chapter 16
Five patrollers swaggered up to Craze when the noise died down. They freed him from the pipe, herded him downstairs and over to Mr. Slade’s, jabbing and shoving until Craze was surrounded by Eptus. Some of them growled, low and steadfast, giving Craze a headache. He didn’t see the aviarmen, the Jix, or the people in black.
All of the crates were upended. Patrollers quickly counted and secured the frizzers, glaring at Craze and the Eptus as they did. The only worse crimes than possessing frizzers on the Backworlds were using them, and betraying fellow Backworlders to the Foreworlders.
Craze was pissed the Jix had left him to deal with the authorities alone, but relieved the aviarmen had gotten away. Part of him clung to a small hope they’d come after him and break him out of patroller custody, but dammitall, if his own father had abandoned him, then a couple of dudes who were little better than strangers probably would, too. He’d have to get out of this mess using his wits and watched his opportunity approach.
A group of squat patrollers swaggered across Mr. Slade’s lobby and came to stand before Craze. None of them rose higher than four foot six inches. They all had wide, powerful frames, and long silky hair. All but one of the six were dressed in green. The oddball wore brown, layers and layers of brown.
The lead patroller sniffed at Craze. “You Verkinns is nutty. I don’t like when you come over here. You best stay over on Siegna.”
Great idea. “I’d be happy to leave.” Craze doubted escape would be so easy.
The patroller put his hands on his hips, pursing his lips. “This is serious trouble, boy.”
Nope, freedom wouldn’t come simply. Craze resisted sighing, concentrating on the patroller’s words, seeking an opening to poke wider that would land him at the docks and on the aviarmen’s ship.
The lawman jabbered on. “This wasn’t some small scam taking a few chips off a citizen, this crime threatens all the Backworlds. The Assembled Authorities have been notified. Frizzers bad news.”
Shit. “I didn’t know it was frizzers.” Craze had to try some truth. “You better have found every one of those guns. I don’t ever want to run into one of them things out on the Edge. I wouldn’t touch the things. Honest. I was here for the chocolate.”
“The bars. The foil bars.” Craze thrust his chin toward the small red and gold items strewn over the floor.
The lawman picked one up. “These?” His small, meaty hands unwrapped the bar, holding it out under Craze’s wide nose. “Mealworm cakes, son. That’s all these is.”
Craze smelled the brine, gawking at the red crumbly cake in the patroller’s hand. That couldn’t be right. That couldn’t be what was protected by the foils and gelatin casings. The seal... the seal embossed on the foils was used for chocolates. Yet he couldn’t argue with the reality in front of his face.
His breath suddenly left him. “No!”
The squat man in brown laughed. “He didn’t know. He honestly thought he was buying chocolate.”
The patrollers joined in the mocking. The leader said. “Verkinns sure can be gullible. Guess the aviarmen was right then.” He shook a finger at Craze. “Deal through legit channels, boy, ‘n only from folks you know. This clandestine shit only leads to bothers.”
Sometimes to great profits, but Craze kept that to himself. The aviarmen had to be Talos and Lepsi. Phew. They hadn’t abandoned him in order to get a bigger cut of the loot. Despite being cuffed by the patrollers and probably on his way to prison, Craze felt pretty good.
He regained some sense of belonging, which Bast and the council had stolen. Things would be OK. He had two good friends. Craze knew without a doubt, and he also knew the patrollers didn’t think him very bright. He’d use that. “I never tasted chocolate before. Just wanted to see what all the fuss is about.”
“That’s what your captain said. Said you often a dipshit,” the patroller replied.
“Cappy’s never wrong.” Craze was impressed by the aviarmen’s skill at manipulating the legal authorities.
“You not getting off easy, you understand.” The lawman nodded, satisfied and smug. “Your captain is pretty hot, promised us you’d help in chasing after these thugs. After he’s punished you.”
“I’m sure. The brig for me.” Craze enjoyed playing along, careful not to go too far and blow what Talos and Lepsi had accomplished, wondering how he was supposed to assist the Elstwhere law, but he didn’t press. Sooner or later he’d know everything.
“The Backworld Assembled Authorities gave me the OK to track these barbarians down,” the man in brown said. He grabbed Craze’s wrist, tugging him onto his feet. “I’ll see he finds his way to his ship. Consider youself deputized, Verkinn.”
Deputized? A funny thought came to Craze: The aviarmens’ promises, the Backworlds Assembled Authorities’ approval, being deputized meant Talos and Lepsi’s ship had been hired to pursue the smugglers. Shit. The reach of the law was long if it was to follow them out to the Edge.
The patroller leader nodded. “All right, Dactyl. You’ll find half the agreed on pay in your account when you get to the docks. If not, ping me.”
“I expect the rest when I haul those smugglers back here for interrogation ‘n trial,” Dactyl said.
“Good hunting.” The patroller saluted. “We want that scum. Want them bad. Get in contact if you need anything from us.”
Dactyl nodded. His iron grip tightened on Craze’s shackles, dragging him out into the street and toward the docks. He led Craze in such a way that folks stopped gape-jawed, pointing and whispering.
Craze became a spectacle of shame paraded off Elstwhere, not so different from how he left Siegna. Shit. “This is gettin’ to be a pattern,” he said.
Chapter 17
The ship looked sad in the well-maintained dock, hideous and long past its prime. It was an awful shade of green, chipping and peeling. And it was shaped so odd, like two beetles back to back with six cylindrical protrusions sticking out from the center that reminded Craze of worms.
He seriously questioned his sanity. Wow. That was what he would travel the Backworlds in? That was what he invested most of his chips on?
Dactyl shoved Craze forward onto the boarding ramp and into the hatch at the end of one of the worm-like extensions. Once on board, the lawman released Craze’s hands from the binds. “Yous watch youself. The patrollers told me to keep yous on probation. One wrong move ‘n yous to jail.”
Around the bend, the aviarmen stooped side by side. The confines of the entry made them appear taller than usual, creating the unmistakable impression that they owned this spacecraft. They wore serious airs, furrowing their brows, and burying their hands deep in their coat pockets. The similarity of their dress and stance gave them the guise of a uniformed crew, which made Craze feel a little left out. Although he wore mostly browns and grays too, it was in a different order and his boots were still shiny. It was of minor consequence though, as he was incredibly relieved to be back at the docks with the aviarmen.
Craze rubbed at the chafing left as a memento by the cuffs, grinning at Talos and Lepsi. “Thanks.” He raised his brows in Dactyl’s direction wondering how the patroller planned to enforce the probation. Then a horrible possibility crept to mind. Was Dactyl going with them? Craze tried to ask the aviarmen through the knotting of his forehead.
Talos’s tentative smile and tug on his prized pin, signaled their carefully crafted exit strategy had changed. “Welcome back, Second Officer Craze.” He ran a hand through his shock of blue. “Before you join us on the bridge, the Sequi could use a good cleaning.” From behind his back he brought out a bucket full of cleaning gel and some clothes.
“The Sequi?” Craze asked.
“The Backworld Assembled Authorities granted our ship the honorable name when we was deputized.”
Did that mean Dactyl was or wasn’t remaining on board? Craze clenched his jaw. It’d be about impossible to recover his lost investment with a patroller on board.
Talos kept talking. “The Authorities is short on ships ‘n since we saw the vessel the frizzer runners left in, we agreed to help out Dactyl in apprehending those despicable infiltrators.”
Translation: the lawman would stay and the aviarmen had seen the smugglers’ ship. They’d told the Authorities. The only reason to do so was to get Craze sprung. Ah, he’d prove they’d made the right decision and not screw this up. What a beautiful thing they’d engineered—thieves chasing after smugglers. Craze had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. He peered into the yellow slop, doing his best to remain somber. “Yes, Sir.”
“No more dipshit behavior, Second. I need my crew if I’m to chase those criminals down effectively. The Authorities agreed as long as I saw to it you was punished.”
The aviarmen must have emphasized Craze’s skills as essential to get the Authorities not to insist Talos hire a new crewman. Warmth spread in his chest and dimpled his cheeks. Craze saluted the aviarmen, fist to chest. “Yes, Captain.”
Talos clasped his hands behind his back, standing straighter. “Clean every inch of this ship ‘n don’t be all day about it. If you do unsatisfactory work, I’ll have to withhold your pay.”
Pay? Maybe something could be salvaged out of this mess. Wanting to know more threatened to do Craze in. He gripped the bucket handle tight, squeezing until the urge lessened into something he could control. “Understood, Sir.”
“Carry on, Second.” With a curt nod, Talos stepped down the corridor toward the center of the spacecraft. Lepsi and Dactyl followed.
Craze began his atonement at the hatch and the pressure lock. The passageway was an aging emerald green except in the spots where the reinforced carbon composite had worn. In those places, the ship was a dingy white. Gray lockers for eight crew members lined the entryway. Four of them contained spacesuits and helmets. On closer inspection, only one of the suits actually functioned. Great.
Craze moved on. The passage led to a living area the size of an efficiency. If everyone on the Sequi hung out in here, they’d be tripping over each other, and forced into each other’s faces. It’d be all the worse with a full complement on board. What if the aviarmen hired more crew?
Craze’s vision shivered. His knees soon followed. The walls sensed his fear, creeping in, eating up valuable inches. Oh jeez. He pushed at them, suspecting he might not be cut out for space travel. For the time being, however, he was stuck with it. At least until he found a place to settle. He hoped that wouldn’t take too long.
Whether it took twelve minutes or years, he needed to calm down. With determination normally reserved for scamming chips from rubes, he forced his terror into the background, imagining the tavern he would someday own, rearranging the bottles on the shelves. Gin with gin. Low quality to high. Ouzo with ouzo. Biting to flavorful. The panic faded. He took a deep breath. The Sequi reeked, rank as old shoes in a filthy barn.
Leaving the wall, he continued cleaning, expunging the grunge settled over everything in the common living space. The composite gleamed in a paler green, glossy as glass when he applied the gel. He noticed other things besides the lack of room now. Ladders in the center led up and down. Five other corridors besides the entry branched off the walls, their doorways almost flush with the living compartment. Craze peeked in one. Crew quarters.
He scrubbed the floor and the kitchenette, which was no bigger than a closet, and wiped down the table, chairs, and exercise equipment. Covered portholes were placed between the entries to the private compartments. He unhinged them and cleared each pane of smudges.
Before he finished with the windows, the ship boomed to life, vibrating with energy, enthused to get going. Craze stayed at the last porthole he had cleaned, watching as the Sequi zoomed away from Elstwhere, the planet and Siegna shrinking as the distance grew. Up ahead, cobalt burst into the heavens like a new star being born. The light opened up to reveal the portal of the Lepper System. With a small shudder, the Sequi slipped inside. The stars and planets disappeared behind the corridor of blue light leading onward or maybe backward. It was hard to tell.
