Rocketship Patrol

by Greco, J. I.

  “Very good then.” Hackenthrush leaned back in his chair, crossed his legs and took a sip of coffee, pinky out. “Carry on.”

  “The source appears to be a class one life boat drifting on the edge of our patrol sector,” 8724 said as the main 25-inch black-and-amber CRT in the bulkhead blinked on with a loud hum. After a moment, the standby test-pattern faded and a long-range image of a scarab-shaped life boat appeared on the screen. “I’m detecting a hot debris field and other tell-tales of a recent explosion back along its vector.”

  “Drifting, you say?” Hackenthrush asked. “In or out?”

  “Out. Into sector 191.”

  “That’s Michaels’ and Holley’s sector,” Rikki noted.

  “What a shame,” Hackenthrush said with a snap of his fingers. “Guess they’ll have the pleasure of dealing with it.”

  “We’re not going to respond?” Loy asked.

  “You heard 8724, rookie, it’s drifting out of our sector. Which means it’s not our problem.” Hackenthrush winked at Rikki. “Or won’t be, we stall long enough, right?”

  “But they’re in our sector now,” Loy said. “It’s our call...” Her lower lip trembled. “My first call...”

  Hackenthrush sighed. “You know how much paperwork I have to do on a rescue job?”

  “I’ll do it, sir,” Loy said. “All of it.”

  “I dunno... I’d still have to initial the report.” Hackenthrush lifted his hand, his fingers bent in all directions. “I get real bad hand cramps. Nah, I saw we just skip it and have lunch–”

  “New signal coming in from the life boat,” 8724 announced. “It appears to be a live transmission. Bringing it up in the main display.”

  Rikki stared into the new image coming into focus in the CRT. His cat-like eyes went wide. “Holy Madre de Dios...”

  “Hello? Hello?” the bleach-blonde human in the CRT said, knocking a knuckle against the camera lens. “Damsel in distress, here. Could use a hand.”

  “8724, intercept that life boat!” Hackenthrush leapt out of his chair and stabbed a finger into the air. “Best possible speed!”

  THREE

  “Docking collar sealed,” 8724 announced. “The life boat is now securely attached to my hull. Normalizing atmospheres.”

  “Where’s the penicillin?” Standing in front of the airlock hatch as it began its pressurization cycle, Junior Office Loy rummaged through the medical bag slung over her shoulder. “What kind of emergency response first aid kit doesn’t have penicillin?”

  “Oh, yeah, about that,” Lieutenant Detective Hackenthrush said, stepping up beside her. “I had to use all the antibiotics we had aboard after our last shore leave. Little word of advice, if you’re ever on Drantini Six and an eighty-seven year old woman propositions you, just keep walking. Trust me, there’s a reason she has to offer such a steep discount.”

  Loy glanced up from the medical bag and over at Hackenthrush. She immediately bit her lower lip to keep from laughing. He’d thrown what was either a dead gopher or a very cheap toupee over his bald head. “…I’ll try to remember that.”

  “Please do.” He arched an eyebrow at the medical bag. “Why are you looking for penicillin, anyway? You don’t have a… you know… lady problem?”

  “No, of course not, why would you even…? No, I’m just inventorying the first aid kit.”

  “Already working on getting a hobby, are you? Good.”

  “It’s standard operating protocol to do an inventory prior to engaging in a rescue so we won’t be caught scrambling for supplies after, when time could be critical to the health and safety of the rescuee.”

  “Decontamination cycle starting,” 8724 announced, the red bulb set above the hatch snapping off and the yellow bulb next to it snapping on. On the other side of the hatch, they heard a rush of steam and a woman’s muffled giggling.

  “Oh, yes. Protocol,” Hackenthrush said, distracted. He pressed his ear against the airlock hatch to better hear the giggling amidst the white-noise of the decontamination steam. “Look, don’t worry about the penicillin. The airlock De-Con cycle will kill anything our guest has.”

  “All due respect, sir, but no, it won’t,” Loy said. “The De-Con cycle can only deal with surface contaminants. If she’s got something internal, it couldn’t do anything to help with it.”

  “Something internal? Like what?” Hackenthrush’s face went gaunt with dread and he pulled away from the hatch. “You don’t think…VD?”

  Loy scrunched her eyebrows together. “I was more thinking internal injuries, or an infection…”

  “Oh, right. But still… Can you check the kit for condoms? I think I’m out.”

  “Sir!” Loy protested.

  “Right, right. That’s hardly important right now.” Hackenthrush tried to pat the wrinkles from his jacket lapels. “How do I look?”

  “She could have been in that pod for days... weeks… months, maybe. There’s no telling what trauma she’s been through—”

  “So you’re saying she’ll be in a conveniently vulnerable state?”

  “No, I’m saying I doubt she’ll be in any condition to notice what you’re wearing—”

  “Oh, I think she’ll notice,” Rikki said.

  Loy and Hackenthrush turned as Rikki loped up the curving corridor, wearing this bright neon blue tuxedo, complete with frilly pink cummerbund. He held a bouquet of colorful Drantini roses in his paw.

  “Damn it, man!” Hackenthrush threw his hands up in exasperation. “Where’d you get flowers? –8724, do I have time to go change and start a garden?”

  “Oh, sorry, no… de-contamination is complete,” 8724 said. “–Is anybody concerned at all that our guest is armed?”

  “I’m not,” Hackenthrush said. He looked at Rikki. “Are you?”

  Rikki pushed his way between Loy and Hackenthrush to stand expectantly in front of the hatch. “Not in the least.”

  “Armed?” Loy asked. “How armed?”

  “Small sidearm,” 8724 said. “Scans as a Pocknip Model Nine-B .01 caliber needle repeater.”

  “A needler?” Loy was shocked. “Those things are at the top of the banned weapon list. –8724, can you ask her to place her weapon in the holding bin? For her own safety.”

  “Sure,” 8724 said.

  Hackenthrush cleared his throat. “Belay that.”

  “Sir?” Loy asked. “We can’t let an armed civilian aboard – especially not with an illegal sidearm.”

  “Why not? We’ve got guns–” Hackenthrush pointed at Loy’s waist-holstered service raygun and then pulled open his jacket to reveal his under-the-arm holster. His empty under-the-arm holster. He gave the empty holster an embarrassed shrug. “Okay, I left mine in the laundry… or was it the bathroom? Doesn’t matter, my point is made. We have guns, why shouldn’t she?”

  “I like a girl with a gun,” Rikki said. “It’s sexy.”

  “Exactly,” Hackenthrush said. “Why deprive ourselves of that? Anyway, we don’t want to be rude. –8724, just open the hatch already.”

  “Airlock opening,” the Ship’s Brain announced.

  The yellow bulb above the airlock hatch snapped off and the green bulb next to it snapped on. The airlock wheel began spinning, automated hydro-servos unlocking and opening the hatch.

  Rikki licked his paw and ran it over his furry head to flatten down his cow-lick. Hackenthrush adjusted his toupee.

  Loy squared her shoulders. “Sir, I have to protest.”

  “You don’t have to,” Hackenthrush said as he took a step back to let the airlock hatch swing open, “you just want to…”

  His voice trailed off as remnants of decontamination steam rolled out of the airlock, framing the bleach-blonde Charlene Cortez like a Venus rising from the waves.

  Hackenthrush and Rikki stared in at her, dumbfounded.

  “What, no one’s gonna faint?” Cortez said, casually pulling the zipper of her jumpsuit down to show off another inch of cleavage. “I usually get at least one faint
with an entrance like this.”

  Hackenthrush’s eyes followed the zipper, beads of sweat running down his forehead from under his toupee. “Humunah humunah humunah…”

  Rikki’s mouth went slack and he dropped his flowers.

  “That’s a little better,” Cortez said, adjusting the gunmetal blue cylinder slung under her arm and smiling at Rikki. Rikki’s pink nose flushed red and he demurely turned his face away, putting his paws up and letting out a coy laugh.

  “Are you okay, ma’am?” Loy asked.

  “Ma’am?” Cortez twisted around to glanced behind her. “Oh, you mean me.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.” Loy took a medical wand from her bag and pointed the whirring, glowing end at Cortez. Cortez’s vital statistics scrolled on the wand’s CRT display. “You seem to be in good shape medically, but just a few standard questions. Have you sustained a head injury? Are you feeling dizzy or in any way nauseated? Do you have reason to believe you are bleeding internally? Would you describe your hydration levels as saturated, adequate, or wanting? Are you aware that you are in possession of a prohibited weapon–”

  Dabbing at his sweat-drenched forehead with a handkerchief, Hackenthrush nudged Loy aside and smiled at Cortez. “What the rookie is trying to say is welcome to our humble little ship.” He extended a hand. “Lieutenant Detective Archibald Q. Hackenthrush, at your service.”

  “Hi!” Rikki waved over Hackenthrush’s shoulder. “I’m Rikki.”

  “I’m sure you are,” Cortez said.

  Hackenthrush elbowed Rikki back. “Never mind him, he’s an alien, Miss...?”

  “Gladys,” Cortez said, taking Hackenthrush’s offered hand. “Gladys Swartzbaum.”

  “Absolutely charming.” Hackenthrush gave her hand a squeeze. “Well, Miss Swartzbaum, my cabin’s this way.”

  “Shenanigans!” Rikki proclaimed.

  “Lieutenant!” Loy balked.

  “What? It’s the only cabin with a working shower,” Hackenthrush said. “Miss Swartzbaum is probably wanting to freshen up after her ordeal. It is Miss, yes?”

  Cortez pulled her hand away from Hackenthrush’s sweaty, tight grip. “As far as we need concern ourselves. About that shower... any chance it comes with a ham and cheese sandwich?”

  “I think we can do better than that. Right this way.” Hackenthrush gestured up the corridor and they began walking, side-by-side. “So, to what tragic circumstance do we owe the pleasure of your company, Miss Swartzbaum?”

  “Was it pirates?” Loy asked, walking after them.

  “Sexy pirates?” Rikki asked, pushing Loy out of the way so he could walk shoulder to shoulder with Cortez opposite Hackenthrush.

  Cortez grinned and shook her head. “No… not pirates.”

  “It never is, is it?” Rikki said, kicking the corridor floor with disappointment.

  “No, just a boring old reactor malfunction” Cortez said as they reached the main access ladder. Hackenthrush gestured for her to go first and she began the climb up two deck levels. “There I was, heading back to finishing school for the spring semester, paying too much attention to my books, as usual, and I go and be all clumsy.” Cortez glanced down to catch Hackenthrush, climbing after her, staring up transfixed at her behind, his tongue practically lolling out of his mouth. She sped up. “I hit the wrong button. You know how it is: New ship and I was in a rush. Still am, actually, so, if you can drop me off at the nearest spaceport so I can be on my way, I’d be eternally grateful, Archie.” She smiled down at Hackenthrush as she swung off the ladder. “I can call you Archie, can’t I?”

  “I wouldn’t have it any other way. And of course, we’ll drop you off. It’d be my pleasure.” Hackenthrush swung off the ladder and snapped his fingers at the ceiling. “8724, chart us a course for the Drantini Outer Waystation–”

  “Excuse me, sir,” Loy interrupted, coming up behind him, “but shouldn’t we check out the accident site first?”

  “Seen one accident site, seen ’em all, rookie. Really, they’re not all that interesting to look at.” Hackenthrush pointed down the corridor. “My cabin’s just down this way, Miss Swartzbaum. After you.”

  “I meant, there will be debris” Loy said, following them. “It’s a navigation hazard. We have to set up warning beacons.”

  “We do?” Hackenthrush asked as they reached the oval hatch to his cabin and stopped. “Says who?”

  “It is–” Loy began.

  Hackenthrush lifted a warning finger. “Don’t say it.”

  “–Standard operating protocol,” Loy finished.

  “You know, if I wanted to be constantly reminded about all the things I’m not doing…” Hackenthrush turned to Rikki. “Remind me again, who’s the senior officer here?”

  “8724?” Rikki guessed.

  Hackenthrush grunted. “No… me. I am.”

  “Seriously?” Rikki extended a paw. “Well, congrats, I guess.”

  “Thank you,” Hackenthrush shook Rikki’s paw then smirked at Loy. “And as senior officer, I have damn well near absolute say on what course of action we take, protocol be damned. I shouldn’t have to remind you of that, Junior Officer Five-Percent-Top-Of-My-Class.”

  Loy sighed. “If we check out the accident site, it’ll give you more time to get to know Miss Swartzbaum.”

  “Duty calls, I’m afraid, Miss Swartzbaum,” Hackenthrush said, opening the hatch of his cabin for Cortez. His cabin was bathed in soft red mood light from an artificial candle that pumped cheap musk into the air. “It won’t take long, I assure you.”

  “Let’s hope not,” Cortez said, her smile fading. She stepped into the cabin, her nose twitching with displeasure as the musk hit her.

  “Let me just show you where everything is,” Hackenthrush said, attempting to follow her in.

  Cortez put a hand on his chest to stop him on the threshold. “I think I can figure things out. Call me when lunch is ready.” She gave Hackenthrush a solid push and closed the hatch in his face, squashing his nose.

  Rikki stared at the closed door, his ear-tips flicking, agitated. “I bet she’s getting naked in there...”

  “Damn it,” Hackenthrush said, “I knew I shouldn’t have moved the surveillance cameras to rookie’s cabin.”

  “What did you say?” Loy asked.

  Hackenthrush squinted at her. “What did you hear?”

  Loy sighed. “Never mind. Anybody else think there’s something wrong here?”

  “Yeah,” Hackenthrush said, rubbing his nose. “I’m on the wrong side of this door.”

  “I mean with her,” Loy said. “She just lost a ship. A new ship. But she didn’t even ask about getting the black box. Insurance company won’t pay out without it.”

  “She’s probably in shock,” Rikki said.

  Loy shook her head. “The med scans didn’t show anything. And how do you accidentally blow up a ship by pressing the wrong button? There are safeguards. Even if there was a single button that could do it, the Ship’s Brain would never allow it without several layers of verbal authentication. Right, 8724?”

  “I know I wouldn’t,” 8724 said.

  “I’m telling you, it doesn’t add up.”

  “No, doesn’t add up at all,” Hackenthrush said. He slapped his hands together. “Oh, well, what you gonna do? I’m gonna go make her some lunch.”

  “Maybe a Cobb salad?” Rikki suggested.

  “With a nice rare steak.” Hackenthrush started down the corridor, back towards the ladder. “I think we’ve got some New Hirenk strips in the freezer.”

  Rikki caught up with him. “I have the perfect wine. Fortified.”

  Loy watched the pair disappear down the ladder. “It’s too soon to mutiny, isn’t it, 8724?”

  “It is only your first day.”

  FOUR

  “Gas. It’s all gas.”

  The rusting bulk of the Exalted Refuse drifted below the wide expanse of debris field, spotlight shafts spearing up from her dented forward probe into the cloud of sparkling du
st and slowly dissipating gas.

  “Just like I told you it would be when you spotted the explosion,” Vei continued. The Halgorian was four foot tall, hunched over under a glistening, ridged dome of a shell. Her bulging eyes were fixed on the holotank set in the rim of her majority shareholder’s nest-station, which showed an image of the debris field displayed relayed from an external camera on the Refuse’s broad back. “Something that intense doesn’t leave anything behind.”

  Her fellow Halgorian and Exalted Refuse’s junior minority shareholder, Dag, was crouched next to Vei’s nest-station. “We can tank the gas,” he suggested optimistically.

  “And we will.” Vei scratched at one of the hairy tufts of green-yellow mold growing at the edge of her shell just above the base of her neck. “But it’s all trace nobles, now. All the good stuff was either burnt off in the explosion or has already dispersed. What’s left is barely worth sucking in – not enough left to pay for half the fuel it took to get out here.”

  “I’m sorry, boss,” Dag said, his head bowing with shame. “I was sure we’d find something.”

  “We all wanted to find something – that’s why I let you talk me into checking it out. But optimism doesn’t pay the bills. It doesn’t send money back home. And it certainly doesn’t repair the air exchanger’s humidifier or cure the shell rot.”

  “Nope, no it doesn’t.” Dag absently scratched away at one of his own tufts of shell-rot mold, an irregular patch over his crotch. “Still, had to take the chance and check it out, didn’t we?”

  Vei let out a bleating sigh, her wattle swaying. “What choice did we have?”

  “Hold on.” Dag stabbed a sucker-tipped finger into the holotank. “What’s this here? That’s not gas.”

  “No, it’s not.” Vei worked a foot pedal to zoom the camera in on a knobby, slowly spinning sphere drifting in the gas. She leaned her sloped head in and her wide lips slowly curled into a cautious smile. “Looks like a ship’s data core.”

  “A data core?” Feh, Exalted Refuse’s senior minority shareholder, asked over the intercom from his engineering nest-station, all the way in the back of the ship’s cavernous hold. A field of hundreds of junk piles, some seventy feet high and scraping the hold’s ceiling, separated Feh’s nest-station from Vei’s.