13 Degrees of Separation (65 page)

“Yes?”

“It's
reportedly owned by Admiral Irons.”

“Irons!”
the Captain said, sitting up straight.

The
exec nodded. “Yes, apparently he came from Antigua. Where he recovered a space
station. A factory city, Antigua Prime,” the exec said, turning the tablet so
the Captain could see it and then hitting the image gallery key. Images of
Irons report to the media were shown, including an image of the factory city.

“Are
these confirmed?”

“We're
getting it from several sources sir, but the primary one is Alice. She picked
it up on their last drop. I asked her to get a copy of the paper. She said
she'd check the library if they had time on their next drop.”

“Good,”
the Captain nodded.

“But
sir...”

“We
can't take it back number one. Which means we're committed here. But this...”
he picked the tablet up, studying it. “I wonder why Irons left?”

“He
tried to put a positive spin on it sir, but it sounded like it's being run by
hippies.”

“Hippies?”

“Peace
nuts. Make love not war. They drove him out. Not quite like Pyrax but close
enough,” the exec reported. “What are we going to do?”

“We're
going to finish here, then change our plans. I'll fill you in later. But this
does open up all sorts of interesting possibilities. In the right hands this
station... yes indeed. It definitely has possibilities. Yes, yes indeed...” the
Captain murmured, smiling.

*****

The
pilot looked up annoyed as the family of three approached them. He had enough
on his plate running fuel and supplies up to the ship and then dropping back
down. The Captain wanted it done yesterday, so he had barely enough time to
unload before he had to turn around and drop again. He'd been tempted to let
Raff take the stick a few times, the kid needed the flight time, but he had to
live up to his reputation as a stick hog. Besides, he had two more flights
before they were done. And then six months before he got to do it again. “Just
what we need,” the cargo master sighed, shaking his head subtly.

“Just
be cool, you know the drill,” the pilot said as the family drew into range.
“Something we can help you with folks?” he asked.

“Yes,”
the man said and then spat. He was nervous, but he was trying on a false
bravado to cover it up. “Me 'n mine's lookin to vamoose from these here parts,”
he said.

The
pilot looked the family up and down as the cargo master turned away to snicker.
“Me 'n mines?” the cargo master muttered shaking his head. The pilot poked him.
He turned back to the family. Each of the 3 were dressed in leather, each
outfit exquisitely made. Too bad, since the parents weren't much to look at.
The man had black leather pants on, a white linen shirt, and a brown vest. The
vest and shirt were opened down to his navel showing his curly brown chest hair
and fat beer belly. The woman might have been something a while back but she
was pretty homely now. She didn't say anything, just stood behind her husband
quietly, head down, hands clasped in front of her. They also stank a bit. The
little blond girl though...

“You
are asking for a ride? An orbital hop or...”

“To
Gaston,” the man said. He grimaced and looked back at his wife. When she didn't
look up he nudged her. “Well? Go on, say somethin!”

The
woman looked up. It was obvious she'd wasn't a looker now that they saw that
homely face. “I, um... my uncle Lew owns a spread in Gaston,” she said softly.
The pilot wanted to move upwind, the woman's breath was horrendous, rotten
teeth and a diet of garlic and onions most likely. He had all he could do not
to wave his hand in front of his face and pinch his nose. “He sent word back to
come and he'd grubstake us,” she said and bit her lip. “Jarod could get work
with Jerry the local blacksmith until he had enough to strike it out on his own
if he wanted,” she added.

“So
you've been in touch with him recently?” the pilot asked, eyes narrowing.

“Naw,
like she said, he sent word in one of them papers.”

“Letters,”
the woman murmured. Her husband glared a bit at her.

“Letters.
Right. Hodges's done his level best to run us out of town, with all his taxes
and fees and such. He used somethin called Eminent Domain to seize the farm
last week. Something bout turnin it into 'Hodges's heavenly estates' another
cemetery for rich folk,” he said in disgust.

“That's
not right,” Alice the flight engineer said, coming up behind the pilot. “Well!
Hello! Who might you be?” She smiled down, leaning forward and down, hands on
her knees as she greeted the girl. The little blond hid behind her mother
shyly. “Well ain't you the cutest thing!” she said chuckling. The little girl
peeked out at her and then back behind her mother's skirts, little hands
gripping the red leather dress tightly.

“What's
her name?” Alice asked, looking up to the girl's mom.

“Eh,”
the man said, turning. “Emma Sue. Never mind her.” He grimaced and then decided
introductions were in order. “Name's Jarod, Wife here's Loni. We're the Gronix
family.”

“And
you are from here?”

“These
parts,” Jarod replied with a nod. “Been here four, five generations,” he said,
tipping his hat back to scratch at his balding scalp. “I've been a tanner and a
pig farmer my whole life,” he said. “Best buggy whip maker on the continent.”

“So why
not stay? Set up shop somewhere else?” Alice asked, straightening and making
eye contact with Jarod.

Jarod
sighed and shrugged. “Cause of all the progress they call it. Vehicles, I think
they said. No one's interested in a buggy these days, they are all into those
mechanical contraptions. Foolish if you ask me, but...” he shrugged helplessly.

“The
most work we've had is from Snidely,” Loni said quietly. “And he doesn't even
own a buggy.”

Jarod
turned a glare on the woman and then back to the off worlders. “So, can we go?”

“Hold
on now, we've got to run it past our Captain. But first off, can you pay for
the ticket?”

“We've
got some credits and some silver,” Jarod admitted. “And I've got a couple cases
of the best tipple around. Traded it from the Dukes a while back. White
lightening, 150 proof so best cut it if you aren't from around here,” he said.

“Still
not enough,” the pilot said, cocking his head. He hadn't even heard how much
silver or credits. He didn't care.

Jarod
turned to the woman. She sighed and pulled something out of her pocket. She
held it up. “Will this do?” she asked.

Alice
and the other off worlders stared at the little black plastic box. “That
depends, what is it?” the pilot asked cautiously.

“It's
one of those e-lectronic things,” Loni said. “That admiral guy was handing them
out.”

“A
flash chip?”

“Nah,
some machine thing,” Jarod said wrinkling his bulbous nose. He scratched at a
wart on the side of his jaw. His brow was heavy, he looked almost Neanderthal
in appearance. “Supposed to be a com...” he turned to Loni.

“Computer,”
she offered softly. He nodded and grunted.

“Yeah,
one of dem things,” he said and spat again.

“What's
on it?” Alice asked, reaching for it.

“Teachin
material, pictures, words. Useless stuff to me,” Jarod said, working his jaw.
“I'm an honest man, do things with my hands,” he said, lifting his  battered
stained hands up. They were covered in calluses and cuts. “Give me a piece of
hide and I can turn it into whatever you need. Saddle, bridle, whip, or
clothes. Even seats and such. Say you need seat covers in your flying thing?”
he asked, pointing to the shuttle.

The
pilot looked over his shoulder to the shuttle and then back. He shook his head
but chuckled. “No, but thanks for the offer.”

“I
dunno, mine's been getting lumpy,” Alice teased. She shut up when he glowered
in her direction.

“I
think the credits, tipple, silver, and that computer will work. We'll have to
clear it with the Captain though,” the pilot said with a nod. “Let me make a
call,” he said turning back to the shuttle.

“Yeah,
don't go usin Hodges's stuff, he'll charge ya for everything n then some,”
Jarod growled and then spat again.

“Why
don't you folks meet us back here in say an hour or two?” Alice asked. “It's going
to take that long to get the fuel sorted out,” she said, indicating the fuel
truck nearby. It was pumping water into rubber bladders in the cargo bay of the
shuttle.

“Sure,
sure, just let us know,” Jarod said, spreading his hands to motion his family off.

When
they were out of ear shot the engineer looked at Alice. “What are you doing?”
he asked, leaning close to her and speaking quietly so they wouldn't be
overheard.

She
grimaced. Trust Serius not to figure out the obvious. “Did you see that
minicomp?”

“Yeah
so?”

“It's
probably got a couple petabytes of useful information on there. Stuff we can
use.”

“So?”

“So,
think about it,” she said and walked off.

*****

“Gronix
family?” the Captain asked over the link. “You think they are worth it?” he
asked.

“I think
what they have in trade makes it very worth it sir,” Alice replied, sitting up
straight.

There
was a squelch of static and then the Captain could be heard muttering
something. A hot mike situation, but the flight officer had no intention of
pointing that out to the Captain. She didn't need him in a foul mood. “All
right, but this better be good,” he said.

“I
assure you sir, it will be,” she replied.

“Fine,
you take care of them,” the Captain replied a moment later. “They come up on
the last flight. See too it. Prinz Zir out,” he said.

“Shuttle
one out,” the flight officer said, hanging up the mike. “And we've got
passengers,” she said.

“Gee
lucky us,” the copilot griped.

*****

“Do you
have a lot of baggage?” Alice asked the Gronix family. The Captain had signed
off on the trade, but they had been forced to cool their heels in the small
customs office and terminal until the shuttle had finished loading. Alice had
explained that they had to run the fuel and supplies up now, there was no room
for passengers.

The
little girl was still as shy as ever which still amused Alice, though she'd
managed to get the girl to wave for the watching cameras. They'd done a bit for
a bunch of cameras and reporters, stuff about a new adventure before the camera
folk had stepped back, something about getting a good wide angle for the
shuttle launch. The little girl had clung to her mom through all the questions.
Her parents had a couple trunks and some odds and ends in sacks piled with
their trade goods by the cargo hatch. The crew were busy loading things.

“No,
this is it. Never needed more than two outfits anyway. Whatever else we need
I'll make on the other side or we'll do without,” Jarod said gruffly. “Thanks
for taking us on. We'll work our keep on the ship,” he said.

“First
thing is a shower,” Alice said, wrinkling her nose. She turned to see a tall
gangly fellow looking rather melancholy, standing away from the knot of
reporters and gawkers who'd stuck around to see the shuttle take off. He was
waving a black handkerchief good bye and sniffling. “Who's that?” she asked,
nodding her chin to the guy. He was dressed for a funeral, all in black with a
cape and top hat.

Jarod
looked and then snorted. “That's just Snidely. My best customer. Guess he'll
have to be more careful from here on out,” he said. He nodded to the cargo
master who was loading the crates of tipple. There was a D and a lightning bolt
branded into the side of the wooden crates. “Careful there boys, it's in glass
that's mighty brittle. Glass that's been in use for centuries.”

“We'll
be careful,” the cargo master said. He went into the shuttle and came out with
pads. He opened the crate and stuffed the pad in, tucking it around the bottles
in an effort to cushion them. “Wouldn't want anything getting broke,” he said.

“Yeah,
that's some powerful stuff you've got there. Could fly to one of the moons and
back with half a bottle,” Jarod replied with a snort.

“Cool,”
the cargo master said, closing the lid and then waving his assistant into
action. He couldn't wait to try some when he was off duty. He was careful to
palm a bottle for his locker for later.

“What's
the hurry anyway?” Jarod asked. “Usually you ships stick around a week or two,”
he said.

“It's
um...” the cargo master shrugged. Alice was nearby, she signed off on a tablet
and then hustled over.

“Hi
folks,” she said. “Couldn't help but overhear. It's one part we've got a deal
someplace else to get to, and a bigger part Hodges's charging us an arm and a
leg every minute we're here,” she said, scowling.

Jarod
held up a hand. “Say no more. Fat bastard,” he said spitting. “Wish someone
would spit and roast him!” he growled. Alice and the cargo master laughed.