Out of the Soylent Planet (A Rex Nihilo Adventure) (Starship Grifters Book 0)

by Robert Kroese

  “Dax says you’ve been asking about me,” the woman said, her voice tinged with irritation.

  “My robot and I need to get off planet,” Rex said.

  “Nobody gets off Jorfu,” Reba said.

  “That’s what I’m hearing,” Rex replied. “But unofficially, I happen to know there are smugglers who flout Ubiqorp’s rules on such things.”

  “Sure,” said Reba, “but you’re going the wrong way.”

  “What do you mean?” Rex said.

  “Smugglers drop shipments on Jorfu. Nobody smuggles anything out of Jorfu. We don’t have anything anybody wants.”

  “There’s one thing,” Rex said. “Somebody is paying for these black-market shipments, and such people don’t use legitimate channels. That means cash. My partner and I intend to hitch a ride on one of those cash shipments.”

  This was the first I was hearing about it. Still, it did make sense. People like Bergoon the Grebatt didn’t send shipments of creamed corn across the galaxy out of the goodness of their hearts. Somehow, cash was making its way off Jorfu.

  Reba studied us for some time. “Let’s say, theoretically, that I know something about these cash shipments. How do I know you’re not with Ubiqorp?”

  “I’m a wanted man,” Rex said. “It’s a matter of public record.”

  “Yes, I had Devin do some research on you. Rex Nihilo, the so-called ‘greatest wheeler-dealer in the galaxy,’ sentenced to death on Jorfu for smuggling.”

  “Not just smuggling. I also committed large-scale fraud.”

  “That’s what I hear. Of course, that could all be part of the ruse.”

  “A ruse for what? To catch a small-time smuggler? No offense, Reba, but I don’t think Ubiqorp cares about you that much. Can you help us or not?”

  Reba didn’t speak for a moment. Then she turned to the man standing next to her. “Get the lights, Devin.”

  Devin walked away, disappearing for a moment into the darkness. Then a bank of flood lights came on, illuminating a huge, vaguely egg-shaped object in the center of the warehouse, about twenty meters away from us. I realized after a moment that it was a spaceship. It was a model that hadn’t been produced in thirty years, and the dull silver of the hull was visible in several patches where the paint—a garish scheme of blue and white stripes—had peeled off. Barely visible scrawled across the hull were the words Reductio ad Absurdum.

  “You saucy minx,” Rex said, regarding the ancient vessel. “You’ve been holding out on us.”

  “A shipment of cash goes out to Gobarrah in three days. There’s just enough room to squeeze you and your robot aboard. Ten thousand credits each.”

  “Ten thousand credits seems a bit steep,” Rex said. “Does that thing even fly?”

  “It doesn’t look like much, but it’ll get there. I pay a guy in Ubiqorp’s flight-tracking unit to look the other way. He can give us a one-hour window on Thursday. That’s the last shipment for a while, so this is your one chance. Devin will meet you at Charlie’s at noon. Payment will be required in advance. Do we have a deal?”

  Rex glanced at the ship and then back at Reba. “Deal,” he said.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Devin blindfolded us again and prodded us into the hovercar. Half an hour later, we were dropped off back at Charlie’s Barber Shop. It was dark and the streets were deserted. We made our way back toward Bill’s hiding place.

  “Sir,” I said as we walked, “would now be a good time to point out that there a number of problems with this plan to get off Jorfu?”

  “A number, Sasha? That’s not very specific, considering that you’re supposed to be a robot.”

  “Five, sir. There are five distinct problems.”

  “You’re exaggerating.”

  “No, sir. First, we don’t have twenty thousand credits, and we have no way of getting it.”

  “Is that one problem or two?”

  “That’s just one so far.”

  “Okay. Keep going.”

  “Second, Bill isn’t going to fit into that ship.”

  “Not sure that qualifies as a problem, but continue.”

  “Third, that ship didn’t look like it will make it out of the atmosphere.”

  “Fair,” said Rex. “What else?”

  “Assuming the ship is capable of interstellar travel, we’ll end up back on Gobarrah, the planet we were desperate to escape before getting stuck on this one. And while I admit to ignorance of the political landscape of black market food smuggling, I suspect we will end up once again in the clutches of Bergoon the Grebatt.”

  “How many problems was that?”

  “The last one or altogether?”

  “The last one.”

  “Just one problem, sir. The possibility of being eaten alive by Bergoon’s razor-toothed churl is a sub-problem under the main problem of being stranded on Gobarrah.”

  “Got it. So how many altogether?”

  “We’re at four, sir.”

  “What’s number five?”

  “I don’t trust Reba Fennec.”

  “Me neither,” said Rex. “Okay, allow me to allay your concerns, my cybernetic sourpuss. Problem one is simply a matter of amassing a lot of cash quickly, which happens to be my area of expertise. Problem two can be solved through a simple process of rejecting traditional notions of loyalty in favor of narrow self-interest. What was three again?”

  “The ship will probably crash.”

  “Right! Well, the way I look at it, this one is actually a sub-problem under number five, Reba can’t be trusted.”

  “So stipulated,” I said.

  “So that leaves four, which was the one where we get eaten by a razor-toothed churl. This one goes in the ‘we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it’ bucket.”

  “So bucketed, sir. What about not being able to trust Reba Fennec?”

  “I’ve got an idea for that one.”

  “An idea for what?” Bill asked, stepping out from behind a boulder. Rex and I jumped.

  “Nothing for you to worry about, Bill,” said Rex. “Sasha and I have just worked out a foolproof plan for getting off this planet.”

  “We have?”

  “Sure, I just need to brief you guys on the details of problem number one.”

  *****

  Rex’s plan for making twenty thousand credits in three days consisted of running a series of hustles on the locals for cash. The first of these, which he called “the glim dropper,” required me to pluck out one of my eyeballs. I wasn’t keen on the idea because my optical data preprocessors are optimized for stereoscopic vision, but Rex insisted it was our best chance to make a lot of money fast. Of greater concern was the fact that the scam required me to lie.

  “It’s not lying,” Rex insisted, peering at my left eyeball, which he held between his fingers. “It’s acting. I thought you were supposed to be a great actress.”

  “I don’t know if I’d say great,” I said modestly. “I won a few awards.”

  “Okay, so act then. Think of it as improv.”

  “It’s not acting if one’s costar doesn’t know he’s being lied to.”

  “Who says?” Rex asked. “Do you think Laurence Olivier’s costars knew they were in a production of Richard III? No, they were just regular people he tricked into being in a play. That’s what real actors do.”

  I was fairly certain that wasn’t what real actors do, but there was no point in arguing with Rex about it. “I’ll try, sir.”

  “You’ll do better than that, Sasha. You have to believe what you’re saying. Now, what’s your name?”

  “Sasha, sir.”

  “Wrong!”

  I sighed. “Countess Tessa Von Histleflith.”

  Rex grinned. “Better.”

  *****

  I walked into Greepo’s Pawn Shop wearing high heels, a stylish trench coat and a flowery hat—all of which Rex had swiped from a department store down the street. And when I say I walked into it, I mean that I walked headlong into a pos
t out front, almost losing my second eye in the process. My preprocessor was having even more trouble adjusting to a single point of optical input than I’d expected. I took a step back, straightened my hat, and walked through the door.

  After pretending for a few minutes to be looking for something amid the detritus of the store, I walked to the counter with as much confidence as I could muster and announced, “I am Countess Tessa Von Histleflith.” The man behind the counter, who was in fact a faded poster of a cowboy hawking Red Dwarf cigarettes, did not respond.

  “You say something?” a man near the back of the store asked.

  I turned toward the voice and saw a man who was roughly twelve centimeters high and standing on a toaster. After a moment of recalibrating my sensors, I concluded that he was in fact somewhat farther away than I had first thought.

  “I am Countess Tessa Von Histleflith,” I announced again. “You may recall that I was in the other day.”

  “Nope,” said the man, walking toward me. He was a burly character with thick sideburns and a handlebar mustache. “Never seen you before.”

  “Well, I assure you I was here. Whilst I was perusing your wares, I seem to have lost one of my eyes. It falls out sometimes. I didn’t notice until today.”

  “How can you not notice you’re missing an eye?”

  “I see perfectly fine without it,” I said, shooting him a vicious glare.

  “I’m over here,” the man said, and I realized I’d been talking to a rack of postcards.

  “I see perfectly fine without it,” I said again, affixing my good eye on the man.

  “Uh-huh. What do you expect me to do about it?”

  “Well, as you can see,” I said, indicating my trench coat, “I am a woman of some means.”

  The man stared at me.

  “Due to my social status and desire for the safe return of my eye, I shall be offering a reward for its return. Five thousand credits.”

  “That’s a lot of money for an eye.”

  “It has sentimental value,” I said. “It was my grandmother’s.”

  Outside, I heard the irregular stomping of feet. Glassware on the shelves near me began to shake and rattle.

  “What in Space is that?” the man asked.

  “Heavens!” I exclaimed. “I am afraid I am in some trouble with the law and therefore am unable to stay here and look for my eye. Please take my business card.” I handed him a card Rex had dummied up, which identified me as:

  Countess Tessa Von Histleflith

  Woman of Some Means

  Below this was a bogus address.

  “If you happen to find the eye,” I said, “please pay me a visit and I will see to it that you are handsomely rewarded. With five thousand credits.” The stomping got louder. “Is there a back way out of here?”

  “Sure, right through there,” the man said, pointing to the rear of the store.

  “Thank you kindly, good shopkeeper. Please do not hesitate to call me for the reward, despite the vast chasm between our relative social strati.” I hurried toward the back of the door. Behind me, I heard a bell jingle as the front door flew open.

  “I AM LOOKING FOR A WOMAN OF SOME MEANS NAMED COUNTESS TESSA VON HISTLEFLITH,” Bill’s voice boomed. “SHE IS VERY WEALTHY BUT HAS ALSO HAS A CHECKERED PAST THAT MAKES HER RELUCTANT TO INVOLVE THE POLICE IN MATTERS OF STOLEN ITEMS.”

  “Haven’t seen anyone like that in here,” the man said.

  “WELL IF YOU DO, PLEASE ALERT YOUR LOCAL CONSTABULARY. I WOULD OFFER YOU A CARD BUT APPARENTLY THAT’S ONLY FOR FANCY LADIES.”

  “Will do,” said the man.

  I heard the door close and I continued down the hall to the back exit. Opening the door, I found myself in an alley with only one way out. Toward the mouth of the alley stood two uniformed Ubiqorp security officers. “Shouldn’t be hard to find a guy traveling with a robot,” one said.

  “Right?” said the other one. “If he had any brains, he’d ditch that thing.”

  “Most criminals aren’t very smart,” the first one said.

  I tiptoed back inside and closed the door. I was just going to have to wait it out at the back of the store and hope the shopkeeper didn’t see me. Fortunately, a moment later the front door jingled again.

  “Hello, good sir!” I heard Rex say. “I am hoping you can help me. While I was walking down the street on this fine day, I saw something twinkling in the gutter, not far from your stoop. ‘What’s this?’ I says to myself. ‘Perhaps a bauble discarded by some overprivileged tyke.’ But as I reached down to pick it up, I saw that it was nothing of the sort. ‘Why,’ I says to myself, ‘that’s an eye, sure as I’m a stranger to this town, passing by on business, never to return. An eye belonging to a woman of some means, at that.’”

  “You said all that to yourself?” the shopkeeper asked.

  “I did, Space as my witness. Can you imagine the sort of well-heeled diva an eye like this belongs to?”

  “Believe it or not,” the shopkeeper said, “just such a woman was in here not five minutes ago. She gave me her card in case the eye turned up. If you give it to me, I’ll be happy to return it to her.”

  “That’s very kind of you,” Rex said, “but it’s no problem at all for me to return it. I was on my way to an important meeting in the next town, but I can postpone it in order to make certain this bauble is returned to its proper owner. If you’d be so kind as to hand over the card, I’ll give her a visit.”

  “I feel like I should be the one to visit her,” the shopkeeper said. “After all, I am the one she entrusted with the card.”

  “Well,” said Rex, “you seem like a decent enough chap. But here’s the thing: an eye like this is a thing of great value. Not on the open market, of course, but to its owner such a thing is irreplaceable. I’m a man who takes his responsibilities seriously, and I feel as if I’d be remiss if I didn’t see to the eye’s return personally.”

  “Understandable,” the shopkeeper said. “But completely unnecessary. As you say, the eye has no real value except to its owner, so there’s no need to worry about me keeping it. In fact, I feel so strongly about getting it back to her that I’m willing to offer you a hundred credits for it.”

  “A generous offer,” Rex said, “but I really do feel that it’s my responsibility.”

  “Two hundred.”

  “You have to understand, it’s not about the money. I just have a strong sense that—”

  “Two-fifty.”

  “Three hundred and you’ve got a deal.”

  I heard a cash register open, followed by some rustling.

  “Nice doing business with you,” Rex said. The door jangled as he left. A moment later, the lights in the shop went out. The door jangled again, and then there was silence.

  I walked to the front of the store and went outside. Making sure the Ubiqorp guards weren’t around, I made my way down the street to the alley where Rex and Bill were waiting.

  “Three hundred credits,” Rex said. “Not a bad start. Now we just need to pull the scam a bunch more times.”

  “I only have one eye left,” I said.

  “I didn’t give him your real eye, silly,” Rex said. “I grabbed a bunch of these at that store on the corner.” He pulled a handful of glass marbles from his pocket.

  “Then can I have my eye back?”

  “No.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  We pulled the glass eye scam a dozen times over the next two days, netting 3,000 credits after expenses. Expenses consisted of anything we couldn’t steal: we found a cash-only hotel where Rex and I could spend the night (we made Bill wait in his hiding spot just outside town) and a sort of food speakeasy where Rex could buy black market SLOP and (at exorbitant prices) other food—mostly dried or canned food that was, according to Rex, barely better than the SLOP. They even had some horrendous-smelling green liquor that was made from fermented SLOP. Rex said it tasted like burnt hair and ketchup, but that didn’t stop him from getting drunk on the stuff two n
ights in a row.

  “Sir,” I said, as Rex downed his seventh shot of the night, “I’m concerned that we aren’t making money quickly enough. We only have one full day left before Reba’s ship launches. Not to mention that we still haven’t addressed any of the other problems with your plan.”

  “I’ve got it covered, Sasha. You see that guy over there in the corner?”

  Glancing toward the corner booth, I saw a lanky man wearing a suit that was too big for him, sitting alone.

  “Yeah. What about him?”

  “He’s the bag man for this establishment. Every afternoon, he takes an envelope full of money to a drop somewhere up town. It’s gotta be at least five grand.”

  “How do you know this?”

  “I’ve been watching him. And I overheard him talking to the bartender.”

  “You’re planning to rob him?”

  Rex scowled. “Nothing so pedestrian, Savannah. He’s going to give us the money.”

  *****

  The next afternoon, Bill and I were standing on a street corner near the speakeasy when Rex, wearing a suit and carrying a briefcase, came running around the corner. He flashed us a thumbs-up, then hid in a doorway.

  “Are you ready, Mistress Ono?” Bill asked.

  “I think so,” I said. “Let’s do this.” I was wearing my Countess Tessa Von Histleflith getup and carrying a purse Rex had stolen for me. I held up the purse and Bill clamped his hand shut on the strap.

  “Give me back my purse, you big lug!” I screamed.

  “LET GO OF THE PURSE AND NO ONE WILL GET HURT,” Bill boomed.

  We struggled theatrically for some time. I had to hand it to Bill; I almost believed he was really trying to grab the purse away from me, when in reality he could have thrown me halfway across the block without even making an effort.

  “Hey, what’s the big idea?” I heard Rex call from my left.