k and the Impossible Forest #4
By John Stevenson
Copyright 2013 John Stevenson
The planets location was the first indication of its strangeness. It circled one of two dim red dwarves, in a highly elliptical orbit; remaining all times, in one or both habitable zones. It was medium sized; mountainous; and where the mining vessel KallagahnIII had crashed.
It had been what was reported as a controlled crash, and loss of life was minimal. Within a short time the crew had been rescued, and what deemed necessary had been recovered. In all it had been an unfortunate event, but a common one in the dangerous environment of space.
That was where the story of the KallagahnIII should have ended and remained, but the ship held a secret.
Jet stepped off the Silver Flyer and looked around. New Frisco was quite a bustling place and one where he felt exposed. It was well within the jurisdiction of the galactic militia, and there were plenty of them around. It was the first time Jet and the crew had exposed themselves since their flight from Culver City, and to descend into a metropolis after the tranquility of the hideout was an unnerving experience; but they had no choice. One could hide but not completely: not if you wanted the things that civilization offered; and medical supplies were one. They had given much of the reserves they had to the inhabitants of Kiriligiantiaz; even more had passed its safe date and needed replacing. They all agreed it had to be done and while none of them admitted the fact they needed to see new face's, and here they could; of every conceivable shape, colour, and creed.
"Okay Rosie?" said Jet expectantly.
"I have the list, it shouldn’t take long"
"Chub?"
"Same; all the spares and stuff we should need for a while."
"And I'll settle all the credit forms. Hopefully it shouldn’t be too involved but to be sure we should give ourselves an extra bit of time: say around..," Jet pullout his timepiece.
"Jet?" Chub said suddenly. "I can't be sure how long I'll be."
They both looked at him.
"You know what it's like, maybe some things are not in stock, or maybe they can't be delivered straight away?"
"And you're suggesting what?"
"No time limit; well by dusk tomorrow, at the latest," he said sheepishly.
"Tomorrow," Rosie almost snapped. "You want us stuck here until tomorrow?"
Chubs reply was less uncertain. "It's hardly stuck Rosie, This is civilization."
"And that’s what it's all about isn't it?" she retorted.
"It's okay Rosie," Jet said passively. "He could be right, we've had nobody for company but ourselves, maybe a night on the town won't be a bad thing?"
"Do I have to remind you too that we are wanted thieves?"
"Technically; yes," he said nervously.
"Just because Benedicts claimed the Flyer blew up doesn’t mean were not zooming around in the evidence."
"No, but salvaging flotsam in space is not something that concerns the galactic militia."
"Salvaging?" she grunted. "Well do whatever you want I'm getting my side done and I'll come back here."
They watched her storm off before Jet turned to Chub. "Work first."
"Definitely Jet," he said with a broad grin.
"And we meet where?"
"Clancy's bar."
Jet looked at him doubtfully. "Clancy's Bar; I have feeling I'm going to regret this?"
"Oh I guarantee you will Jet."
As Chub had predicted Jet did regret being talked into what he desperately tried to forget he had been His mind was still occupied as they walked back into the spaceport and a man stepped in front of them. "Mr. Black?" he said pleasantly.
Jet looked at Chub furtively. It seemed every person with the vicinity was looking at them. "Who needs to know?" he said as innocently as he could.
"James Rackham; I'm an investigator for the Three Galaxies Insurance Alliance."
Jets heartbeat stopped.
"Mr. Black please don’t cause a scene; the galactic militia's interest is minimal at this point so any occurrence would be unfortunate; and not just for yourselves."
Jet gritted his teeth. "What do you want?"
"I would have thought that obvious Mr. Black: our spaceship."
"And If I refuse?'
Rackham began to laugh. "Mr. Black please; the spaceship is already in lockdown and your crewmember is in civilian custody."
Jets body sagged; it was over: it had been good; no it had been wonderful, but it was over. "So what happens now?"
"That depends on you."
"And only me," Jet stared at Rackham. "It was my idea entirely," he glanced towards Chub. "My crew is: are just that, people who I convinced to join me. It wasn't their idea"
"He's not going to believe that Jet," Chub said to his side. "You don’t believe that do you; anyway it was my idea; Jet's just taking the credit. I convinced him to join me."
Rackham had stopped laughing but was still smiling. "And I suppose the young lady convinced you both. Look lets be civilized and go over to the terminal; you can all discuss your parts together."
Rosie was at on a lounge when they walked in; she looked as glum as they felt. They sat; Chub beside her, Jet opposite. Rackham sat beside Jet.
"You are aware Mr. Benedict has lodged an insurance claim for the Silver Flyer in its entirety?" Rackham said in a businesslike manner.
"Are we being recorded?" demanded Chub.
"This discussion is..," Rackham shrugged a little, "Is informal; nothing that is said will be used in any evidence, though I should point out there isn't a court in the systems that needs any more than we already have."
Jet felt even glummer.
"My clients have instructed me to clarify and make sure a few points are agreed before any civil or financial charges are presented."
Jet stood, "Where's the coffee?"
"Through that door," Rackham pointed towards an anteroom.
"As I mentioned," Rackham continued. "The galactic militia is not at this time involved, but any number of charges from theft to embezzlement; from deception to perjury could possibly apply."
"Just get on with it," snapped Chub.
"Ah Mr. Hubly, obviously a man with your background will agree that a penal colony is not the place where a young woman would survive for very long."
"I told you," snarled Jet, "She has nothing to do with it; it was all me."
"And half me," added Chub.
"Of course, but a court may not be so willing to accept your words, especially after Mr. Benedict has claimed the young lady tried to kill him."
Jet heard Rosie gasp and dropped the half-filled mug back onto the bench as he turned to face Rackham. "That’s dead wrong; he wanted me to kill her."
Rackham seemed unfazed. "You can prove that Mr. Black?"
Jet felt his throat thicken.
"I imagine not," Rackham held his stare.
"Actually I have a recording,"
"Mr. Black digital technology is supportive and not prime evidence. It's quite easy to replicate any audio or vision."
"Then I'll demand to give evidence under lie detector."
"Whatever you chose it is your right, but it is also the right of the Three Galaxies Insurance Alliance to explore every avenue we can; and we will: The value of the Silver Flyer is of nothing to us, we can spend its value multiple times and be completely satisfied with your conviction. On top of that there's Mr. Benedict; if what you say has even a grain of truth he would not hesitate to use the resources at his disposal to keep you quite." Rackham stood and stepped away from them before he looked back solemnly. "Mr. Black; all of you; I just need to convey the seriousness of your po
sitions. The courts will strip you of your financial and personal possession in compensation. You will spend extended, and I'm sure with Mr. Benedicts influence consecutive and continuing periods in prison. Your lives won't just be hell, they may arrive at those very gates sooner than you expect."
Jet could hardly speak but at last he did. "You're enjoying this?"
"On the contrary, but as I said you need to know the alternative." Rackham was silent for long enough for any of them to speak but nobody did. "Very well I think we all understand our own positions." He sat down again. "Mr. Benedict is an extremely important and valued customer of the Three Galaxies Insurance Alliance. His various policies bring vast amounts in payments to the Alliance, so the last thing we want to do is accuse him of being a crook."
Jet stared at the man dumfounded.
"Insurance companies expect corruption; it's why the policies are so high; the fact is your just stealing back your own money. Now while that's something we will make every effort to stop we realize it happens. In fact the odd claim here and there is; to be honest, too trivial for us to waste our time chasing; obviously claims like Mr. Benedicts don’t fall under this category."
Jet shook his head, "Then if you think he is a crook why don’t
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