Running With Argentine

by William Lee Gordon

  "What I want to know, Lieutenant, is whether it was blackmail or bribery that she used to get you to bring her here?" the enforcer finished strongly.

  ΔΔΔ

  "Bring who here?" the lieutenant made a point of asking.

  "And I thought we were through playing more games…

  "You know exactly who we’re talking about. You couldn't have avoided seeing the security announcement at the terminal. You're not even a good liar…"

  "Of course we saw the security announcement. And since you've been talking about a she, I'm assuming that's who we’re discussing. But it still doesn't tell me who she is," he retorted calmly.

  After a short moment enforcer Davis pulled out a data pad, issued a few commands, and laid it on the desk in front of them both.

  "This woman," he continued. "Has major cartel connections. She is also wanted for several felonies and considered a person of interest in a dozen more.

  "Just being affiliated with her put you directly under our microscope. Aiding and abetting her will put you directly in one of our cells.”

  "If you had any evidence at all that we were working with her we'd already be in one of your cells," the lieutenant remarked. "The fact is, we haven't done anything."

  "Gentlemen, there is no way in the stellar depths of blackness that I'm going to believe that this woman didn't arrive here on your ship. The only issue I'm trying to resolve is whether you were willing accomplices or just unknowing dupes."

  "We didn't bring her here," Lieutenant Stark insisted.

  "So you want me to believe she stowed away without your knowledge?"

  "She didn't stowaway. No one traveled on our ship that we didn't know about."

  The enforcer turned to Argentine…

  "And what about you? Are you also going to add to your crimes by lying to an enforcer?"

  "Davis, I've never seen that woman before in my life," Argentine said truthfully.

  The photo of the redhead on the data pad… wasn't Mandi.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Stymied

  Platform 12

  "We are docked to a sophisticated high-tech orbital platform. Can we bloody well be sure that they can't somehow listen in on our conversations?" Barry asked.

  "We are safe," the lieutenant announced.

  "How can you be…"

  "Oh, yeah… You’re security. Right. Sorry mate."

  They were setting in the Pelican's mess. It was never designed to seat the entire crew at once; so the seven of them fit perfectly.

  "Okay, what did you guys come up with?" Argentine asked.

  They had just finished explaining to the rest of the crew their experience with the police enforcers.

  To say that everyone was disappointed was… an understatement.

  "I did some nosing around while the chief was busy and ended up buying a drink from a bartender that liked to talk," Rory spoke up.

  "From what he says, the police on Asperia are generally thought to be okay – no more than the usual complaints. But the enforcement division isn't as popular."

  "Did he think the enforcers were corrupt?" the lieutenant asked.

  "No, at least I don't think so. He didn't mention corruption for the police or the enforcers; but corruption was all he would talk about when it came to the military."

  "That's spot on with what I found out," added Barry. "I stopped off, briefly, at the Pilots Guildhall after we left Sami's. Nobody likes the military."

  "Why not?"

  "They're arrogant and gobby, was the best I can gather," he replied. It used to be that people never saw them. They're only supposed to deal with protection on an interstellar level. But more and more, people are complaining that they’re showing up everywhere. One bloke told me that if he walks into a pub and spies one bending an elbow, he walks right back out and finds a different pub.

  "For a bloke like that to allow some chav to interrupt his drinking habits, well… That's all cocked up."

  "This is all well and good, but I'm not sure how it helps us?" Argentine commented.

  "Well, there is an underground," Rory spoke again.

  "An underground? Are they that close to rebellion?" the chief asked.

  "No, not that kind of underground… More like a black market, from what I gather. I don't know if that would help us or not, but we might be able to find some unofficial work..."

  "Hmph, that sounds a lot like a cartel to me…" the lieutenant mused.

  Argentine sighed.

  Rubbing the bridge of his nose with one hand he said, "Okay, let's all get a good night's sleep. First thing tomorrow we need to come up with a plan of action and make some decisions about what we're going to do."

  A few of them nodded but nobody looked in a particular hurry to get up from the table.

  "First?" Sami asked. "What do you think it means that the enforcers showed you a picture of someone else…? Not Mandi, I mean?"

  In a weary voice Argentine said, "Sami, I have no idea…"

  ΔΔΔ

  What did it mean, Argentine asked himself.

  Try as he might, he'd been unable to find sleep. There didn't really seem to be any good solutions to their dilemma.

  They could run. They had enough food and consumables on board to get them quite a distance. They could conduct all the ship's maintenance themselves, but they'd be working themselves ragged and would have to spend an inordinate amount of time in deep space between skips.

  Even the best of astrogators plotted courses that would eventually drop them out of Dreamspace to recalibrate, re-plot, and reinsert themselves on a perfected trajectory.

  These recalibration points were purposely as far away from any gravity wells as possible – that was the definition of deep space.

  This also meant that if anything went wrong they were beyond help. The odds of any two ships dropping out of Dreamspace at the same coordinates in deep space were, well… astronomical.

  No ship's captain wanted to spend any more time than absolutely necessary adrift in deep space.

  And that brought up another issue…

  Maybe it wasn't as pressing, but still it weighed in Argentine's mind…

  Was he the captain of the Pelican?

  The practical answer was yes, of course.

  But it still just didn't feel right. He'd never asked for this. For that matter, he wasn't sure that he wouldn't be the first one to leave the crew if a stable situation ever presented itself…

  He hadn’t misled anybody; a fresh start is exactly what he was looking for.

  But now, he had people depending on him. So why didn't he just let everyone call him Captain and get on with it? It would sure make it less awkward when they made port in new systems…

  At any rate, though, that anxiety of his paled in comparison to the immediate situation they were facing.

  Asperia appeared to be exactly the type of solid, organized system they needed to make that fresh start. But boy, they weren't going to be able to start on just the bottom rung of the ladder… They were underground!

  If they were going to stay here, they were going to have to dig themselves out of this hole and start fresh.

  No matter which direction he looked, however, they still had the same problem… Their credits were frozen.

  If they could solve that, everything else would get easier. So, first things first…

  First thing tomorrow he'd look for the local equivalent of an attorney, or arbiter. Even if they were from… What did they call it here…? Arriving from unknown territory? Darkspace? That was it. Even if they were from Darkspace they should have some rights in this system.

  He just needed to find someone that could tell him what they were.

  Okay, now he had a plan, or at least a first step…

  So why didn't he feel like sleeping?

  Sitting up on the side of his bed he activated the intra-ship comm…

  "Chief, how's your supply of cognac?"

  ΔΔΔ

  "So
basically you have no rights in this system," said the arbiter.

  The arbiter that had come best recommended made his home on a different platform, so the Pelican was springing for the bandwidth of a live video link.

  Actually, Argentine had only now realized that abundant bandwidth was cheap here… Another lesson on how backwards the People's Republic of Chezden had really been.

  No rights… Another assumption of his up in smoke.

  "Esquire Dawkins, are you telling me that no matter how much I pay you there is nothing you can do to help us?"

  "Putting aside the fact that your credit deposits are currently frozen, you essentially have the right of it. Look, Captain… I'd be happy to take your credits but the enforcement division is within its rights to freeze your accounts."

  "But for how long?"

  "Usually, until they clear you from suspicion. But there is some good news you can hang your hat on… Police enforcement on Asperia has a reputation for being aboveboard. In other words, they won't make it political or personal, and they won't hold your credits any longer than necessary."

  "So the whole system is designed to give me every incentive to cooperate and help them get to the bottom of whatever it is they think we've done – even if that means inconveniencing innocent people from time to time?"

  "Yes, I would say that is a very good understanding of the system."

  "Okay, I have another question for you… Anything I talk to you about, is it confidential between us?"

  "I'm not sure I understand," the arbiter said.

  "Hypothetically, if I told you something that could incriminate me would it remain between us? Is there any such thing as Attorney-Client Privilege on Asperia?"

  After a moment Dawkins shook his head, "I'm not sure what that is, but if you revealed anything illegal to me I would be required to report it to the proper officials. I am an honorable arbiter; you wouldn't expect any less of me, would you?"

  After a moment, Esquire Dawkins spoke again, "Captain Argentine, based upon the hypothetical you just gave me, I suggest you might want to consult with a criminal arbiter. As you know, I deal with civil disputes and governmental arbitrage… But if there's any chance your needs would go beyond that…"

  ΔΔΔ

  It was the next morning and Argentine was getting off to a late start.

  He could have blamed it on the cognac, but the truth was he just didn’t felt like getting out of his bunk.

  He had fallen asleep the night before with a sense of carefully built-up confidence that he would awake with inspiration and at least the thread of a plan to build upon.

  No such luck.

  So he’d stayed in his bunk and thought it through again…

  As advanced as the Asperian system seemed to be, this platform was still a spaceport. A nice spaceport, to be sure, but in Argentine’s experience all spaceports had certain things in common.

  He still had no desire to involve his crew with the cartels, but not every man or woman that walked the gray lines of legality would belong to them… but they would know their way around the local legal system. Especially the part about which arbiter to choose…

  Even more so than on the civil or governmental side of things, this was critical. The last thing Argentine wanted to do was to pick some lowlife criminal arbiter at random. If his experience in the People's Republic was anything to go by, and it was proving out that may or may not be true, who represented you was just as important as the issue you were being represented for.

  The problem was that Esquire Dawkins hadn't been in any hurry to give them a recommendation for criminal arbiters. So…

  When he entered the Pelican’s small mess Lieutenant Stark was the only other crewman present. This wasn’t surprising as it was well past time for breakfast.

  “Have you seen the chief?” Argentine asked as he walked over to the dispenser.

  “At breakfast, he and Rory were talking about spending the day flushing the heat conversion tubes. It sounded like an all-day project.”

  “What about everyone else?”

  “Sami and Barry are off ship. I’m not sure what they had planned. You know, most captains would get up early enough to know these things…”

  “Look, Lieutenant…”

  “I told you to start calling me José.”

  “Yeah, I know… but it just doesn’t feel right,” Argentine said as he took a sip of cold coffee. “No offense…”

  The lieutenant just shrugged.

  “Anyway, I could use your help,” he said… and then explained his strategy.

  ΔΔΔ

  They’d started off by hitting all the eating establishments that were common to every spaceport - common food at cheap prices. The last one was actually called, The Greasy Spoon.

  They weren’t exactly the low-class dives he was looking for but it was only mid-day, platform time, and they did get a good idea of what to look for in the local nightlife.

  Except it wasn’t what he’d expected…

  You could get a drink anywhere, but the few establishments that stayed open past the end of the workday were all located in a closed-off section of the platform. The security was heavy and it just didn’t sound like the fertile ground Argentine was looking for to gather information.

  It was late afternoon before they figured out that Pleasure Palaces were legal.

  He’d originally been looking for a ‘seedy’ side of the platform but when he hadn’t found it he’d just assumed that certain types of establishments weren’t permitted. He’d never thought to find a whorehouse behind a sharp chrome, steel, and glass façade with elegant signage.

  Argentine and Lieutenant Stark found themselves lounging in overstuffed leather chairs (at least it felt like leather - nothing like the faux stuff of the Captain’s Bench), smoking cigars, and sipping on some type of whiskey. It was too bad they’d never heard of cognac, but, all in all, it wasn’t bad.

  By now it was late afternoon and he had to admit that he rather liked the place.

  The men and women that had discretely approached them had all been attractive; some had even been elegant. There were a few, of course, that were exotically enhanced well beyond his taste. For the most part, however, there was nothing grossly overt to distinguish this from an upper-class dinner party.

  It was certainly well outside what he’d expected to find on a spaceport platform.

  As nice as his surroundings were, he was still no closer to finding an inside recommendation to a superstar criminal arbiter.

  Reluctantly, Argentine realized that a more direct approach would be necessary…

  “Yes, please sit down,” he responded to the next inquiry. “But I should tell you that I just want to talk.”

  “Sure you do,” she said with what appeared to be a sincere smile.

  “No, really… Anyway, I need some advice. I need to find a well-connected criminal arbiter. One that knows his or her way around and can get things done. Can you give me a name? Or maybe point us to someone that can?”

  He couldn’t help but notice that she was still very pretty, even when frowning in thought… “I wouldn’t know what to tell you. Who did the guild recommend?”

  After a fairly lengthy pause, Argentine said, “You mean there’s a Criminal Arbiters Guild?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Dig Deeper

  Platform 12

  Not only was there a Criminal Arbiters Guild on Asperia, but there was an office on every platform.

  It was even open all 22 hours of the Asperian day…

  Apparently, criminal activities in this utopia weren't as uncommon as they would have you believe.

  Somehow, Argentine and the lieutenant hadn't made it out of the Pleasure Palace until closing, around 1800 local time.

  They had briefly considered heading over to the nightlife district but wisely realized it was probably the whiskey talking. So instead, they'd made their way to the Criminal Defense Arbiters Guild.

  For all the
good it had done them.

  They had spoken to Arbiter Tong at length. He had given them sage advice and had expounded on the virtues of the Asperian criminal justice system… All of which boiled down to the conclusion that they were screwed unless they cooperated with the authorities.