"Empires": No Good Deed...

[Coyote]

"No Good Deed" is a "slice of life" story from my "Empires" universe. Enjoy.

No Good Deed...

Lindy Jahnsen stepped outside the sliding glass doors and onto the open deck of the hotel’s entryway. The casino noises followed him as he stood there, feeling the warmth of the mid-morning sun. He stretched and ran a hand through his freshly-cut hair, and felt the tingle of his freshly-shaved face. A new man, he thought to himself.

“Redcap,” he ordered, and a robotic baggage cart unhooked itself from its recharger and wheeled over to him. He picked up his single dufflebag and put it on the platform. He walked away from the hotel where he’d spent over two weeks’ worth of non-stop debauchery. He’d earned it, he felt, after his six months of being cooped up, alone, in his small freighter. Still, two weeks of casino losses offset by meager winnings-- just enough to keep a person going-- and comforted by rented love had turned out to be a remarkably unrewarding experience. The young merchantman sighed and shrugged it off, and began walking down the ramp towards the small-ship berths.

He stopped at a terminal where the security officer checked his ID card. His name showed up in comforting green letters on the console-- JAHNSEN, LINDY, CAPTAIN, INDEPENDENT FREIGHTER CCTAV 1198 “EXECUTIVE SWEET” BERTH 78. The guard greeted him.

“Good morning, Captain,” he said good naturedly. Lindy smiled. The title “Captain” was a mere technicality. Aboard his small freighter he was not only Captain but crew as well, but it sure looked good. He stepped through the doors and motioned for the robot cart to follow him. “Would you like me to get a shuttle bus for you, sir?” the desk officer asked. Lindy shook his head.

“I’ll walk, thanks,” he said, “It’s the last long walk I’ll get to have for another six months.” The guard nodded his understanding and Lindy passed into the landing tarmac, the robot trundling along behind him. The walk to his ship was almost six kilometers, but he wasn’t needed anywhere in any real hurry. He had no cargo, few R&R ports-of-call had any exports. Legal ones, anyway, which Lindy tended to steer clear of, despite enjoying the image of a gritty Contractor.

“Sir?” Lindy slowed down, convinced he’d heard something. “Sir?” repeated a choked, whispered voice. He turned around, mildly irritated. A human woman stood in an archway to one of the berths. She was a little shorter than he was, and a little older, maybe in her mid-to-late-thirties. She had shoulder length blonde hair and an athletic build. Her eyes were recently dried from silent tears. His irritation simmered a bit, replaced by some curiosity.

“Huh? Yeah?” he asked casually, trying to convey a need to be somewhere else. The robot slowed to a halt. The woman stepped forward, into the light. He could see that she had a flight suit on, a military surplus type, with a name tape over the left breast pocket. RUNYON was stenciled on it in neat embroidery. She hesitated.

“Umm,” she started, running a nervous hand through her hair. “Umm,” she tried again, “I’m really, really sorry. But, I. . . ahh. . . I need some help,” she blurted out. She swallowed and Lindy looked around, briefly paranoid of the woman being a set-up for a robbery.

“Help,” he repeated blandly. She nodded, silently, not looking him in the eye. Her hand went to her chin and formed a loose fist, which she hid her mouth behind. Her facial muscles were taught with concealed stress. Lindy resigned himself to see the minor irritation through. “What kind of. . . help. . . are you talking about?” She briefly looked him in the eye, then looked at the rest of him as if seeing for the first time that he was a human.

“I, uh, I landed here eight days ago,” she explained, “I was in the system and was looking for work. I’m out of fuel. I can’t take off until I pay my docking fees. I’m about out of money-- I didn’t know there wasn’t any cargo to lift here!” She paused, explaining it all made her upset again. “I have money for either docking fees or a fuel rod. Not both. If I buy fuel, they impound my ship. If I pay fees, I still can’t leave. I don’t know what to do!” she looked at him with pleading eyes.

“You’re new at this, aren’t you?” he said a little too sternly. She nodded, wiping at her eyes.

“My husband’s ship. It was. He handled all the piloting and business details, I just did computer work and load handling. I got the ship in the settlement, you know, a way to make a living for me and my daughter when he left us.” She said it all in a rush, and she started to get upset again. Lindy really did not want to listen to someone’s blubbering. Too many amateurs were in this game.

“Look,” he said, “as soon as you land anywhere, you take your payment and load up on fuel, provisions, and find out what the docking fees are. Then bank away twice that, ‘cause they always gouge you.” He stopped and looked at her appraisingly, his arms folded over his chest. She was pretty, in an ordinary-woman sort of way. If she was an experienced load handler and computitan, why would her husband leave her? Good help is expensive in space, good company more so. “Didn’t your husband tell you any of this stuff? What an asshole.” She made a sudden sound, but Lindy couldn’t tell if she was sobbing at the persecution of her ex-husband or barking a laugh in agreement with his appraisal.

“I know. I’m new to this. We just split, last system, about a month ago. He took out all the fuel rods but one that was already loaded in the reactor. I didn’t know. He sold them, bought passage out. . . he left me and Gabrielle. . .” she started to choke again. She was still dealing with the separation, and now this. Lindy sighed, wishing he were somewhere else.

“Well, that’s pretty rough. But what do you want me to do about it?” he asked.

“Well, I was wondering if. . . you might have a little to spare, you know, some lesats or some credit. . .” she explained, unable to look in his eyes. Lindy sighed heavily.

“Look, I’m about cleaned out myself. I got just enough to lift on and get to the Kuji trinary. There’s always cargo there. I don’t make it a habit to carry around bail money for amateurs.” She nodded understanding, and looked like she was going to cry again.

“I’m sorry. I understand,” she said quietly. She edged away, towards the docking berth she’d been standing in front of. Lindy cast an appraising look into the landing bay. A light freighter of the Commodore class rested there, a good quality ship for a crew of at least two. A child sat on the boarding ramp.

“Sorry,” Lindy said as he walked away. “Good luck.” He turned and trotted down the pathway towards his landing bay. He guided the robot to the base of his ship and keyed the ramp. The robot wheeled up the ramp and he relieved it of its burden, packing the dufflebag away in his tiny, cramped cabin. It was his home during the long voyages between the stars, that and the galley and cockpit. He could relax in the open spaces of the cargo hold as well, where he had a small exercise area set up, as long as he wasn’t lifting so much cargo that he was kept crowded in the personnel areas. He looked around his tiny world with a familiarity that was both welcome and resentful. He thought about spending the next six months in deep space, with only infrequent communication with other ships as company. That, and the copious library he had on the ship’s computer.

He felt a twinge of guilt about the plight of the blonde woman known only as Runyon, but what could he do about it? He halfway wished he had some money-- the less civil side of his mind figured that Runyon would do just about anything to secure a little cash. He’d never had a problem with the idea of going for an older woman-- he’d just never had the opportunity. He imagined her slipping out of her flight suit, his hands gently exploring her while he kissed down her throat and between her breasts. She had some nice ones, too, he thought back. What treasures did that jumpsuit hide, baggy enough to conceal her figure and make it mysterious, tight enough to be alluring and make a man curious? He smiled at the idea. Most people who spent their lives in space killed time by eating too much. When they got fat, they cut the gravity on their ships and kept eating. Obviously the blonde hadn’t had that problem. She took care of herself, as far as that was concerned.

He was now intrigued enough to begin a mental inventory of his possessions and supplies. Did he have anything worth trading? She’d have food, a Commodore class ship could carry provisions for two people for eight months. What did she do for an extra crewman? The kid was too young. It was unfortunate that Miss Runyon was not going to survive long in the business-- no financial sense, a kid to take care of, and no extra crewman. If he didn’t have his own ship, he’d hire on. He snickered. You can pay me 1,000 lesats a month, he’d say, or nine hundred a month with a weekly blow job. Or seven fifty if we share a bunk. A bargain, he figured.

The robot chirped questioningly at him. He’d forgotten. It would have to be returned to one of the recharger areas along the concourse, or the hotel gate. He thought about just sending it on its way but decided to walk outside with it. One last time, he figured.

The robot guided him along the way they’d come. The recharging terminal was just on the other side of the bay that the blonde woman was berthed in. He walked past the open hangar door and looked in, seeing if he could catch a glimpse of her. Maybe she’d be bending over to pick something up. He could only hope.

Instead, she was sitting in the shadow of the ship’s ramp. Her knees were drawn up with her crossed arms on top of them. Her head rested on her arms, eyes downcast. Her kid was nowhere to be seen. Lindy felt briefly disoriented. He tried to look at her as if she were naked, but the attitude of his subject didn’t make the fantasy any fun.

“Hey!” He called out. He didn’t know why he called out, maybe just to see her get up and walk over, catching the sway of her hips or something. She looked over at him and studied him from a distance. He walked over and the robot, not yet released from duty, followed him silently. “Hey,” he said again, although he couldn’t say why. He felt silly. Tormenting this poor woman just so he could get a look at her was a little low, he felt. “I was curious about something,” he said, filling the void. “How is it that you can operate a two-crew ship with just yourself?” She looked at him strangely, but as she got up she smiled a little, self-conscious smile.

“Well,” she said, wiping her eyes again, “I did say I was a computer specialist. I rigged a slave-monitor system to the ship’s A.I.” she said with no little pride in her shaking voice. Lindy blinked.

“But you can’t. A ship’s A.I. is too limited and besides, there’s the data encryption to get past. You bought an autopilot, right?” He looked at her, questioningly. She shot him a challenging glare.

“If I had the money for an autopilot,” she sniffed, “I wouldn’t be here now, would I? I rigged the helm and engineering boards to the ship’s normal A.I. and attached a logic box to the same jack that an autopilot would use. I just feed in the parameters and it plots a solution for me. Then I can send the commands to the helm.” Lindy nodded his understanding. A logic box was like an extra set of brain cells specifically designed for solving problems requiring intuitive thinking. But it was not artificially intelligent and was relatively inexpensive. Any stock AI could handle computations and hazard-avoidance, but minute adjustments and maneuvering insystem would require a feel for the ship, an advanced AI... or a system rather like the one Runyon had described. An arrangement like the one Runyon was talking about was not unheard of, but required a high level of expertise and familiarity with the equipment. He looked at her and smiled.

“So, look, ah. . .” he looked at her nametape and admired the way it curved over her breast. “. . . Runyon. I might be able to help you after all,” he said, doing some quick thinking. She gave him an appraising look.

“How?” she asked simply. Lindy waved towards the direction of his own ship.

“I loaded up on fuel rods when I landed,” he explained, “I got eight of ‘em. Any one of them will last me for about a year and a half. I can transfer one to you,” he said quickly. “Then you can lift out of here and go to Kuji trinary. There’s--”

“--always cargo there,” she interrupted. She smiled, showing pretty white teeth. “Thank you!” she said, throwing her arms around him. “Thank you.” She inhaled suddenly, as if she was stifling a sob. Lindy hesitated, then put his arms around her and returned her hug. “How can I ever thank you?” she said. A blow job would be nice, Lindy thought, or a roll in the sack.
“We’ll worry about that later,” he said as she broke the hug. He looked down at the little robot, purring innocently on its wheels. “C’mon, twerp,” he said, and stepped back towards his own ship. The blonde woman held out her hand.

“I’m Wendy,” she said, smiling. Lindy smiled back and shook her hand.
“Lindy,” he said, “Lindy Jahnsen. Glad I can help.”

*** ***

The engineering bay of Lindy’s ship, Executive Sweet, was split open lengthwise by the clamshell doors that allowed access to the sensitive machinery inside. He’d never done this on a planet; he’d only been back here in an EVA suit, doing minor repairs in flight. It was odd doing everything in a gravity well-- things that never used to weigh a thing to him now dragged him inexorably towards the ground. He opened the element ready bin where the fuel was loaded. The eight-slotted wheel that contained his ship’s fuel rods was exposed to him. He put on the heavy thermal gloves needed to protect his hands from the extreme cold that the fuel rods were stored at. He beckoned the robot over to him and it glided obediently to his feet. Wendy watched from nearby. She had her own thermal gloves on as well. Lindy slid one of the fuel rods out. It was much heavier than he was used to. It would barely move.

“Thyssa!” he cursed. “I hate gravity! These things are heavy.” Wendy smiled.
“Second-stable series elements usually are. They’re super dense at this stage, and the extreme cold keeps them stable.” She rushed over and grabbed the other end of the rod as it slid out. Once free of the mechanism, the rod pulled them both almost to the floor. “O-one huh-hunnerd k-kilograms! Hunh!” She said, grunting the rod up onto the robot with Lindy. The paused for a moment and looked at each other, smiling. Lindy closed the doors to his ship and took off his gloves.

“C’mon, robot,” he waved in the direction of the doorway. The robot sat there, the fuel rod on its back deck, its wheels visibly compressed. The two humans looked at each other.

“Can’t move?” Wendy asked. “Is there a load limit?” Lindy shook his head.
“That shouldn’t be a problem. It’s goddamn heavy, but lots of people carry cargo far heavier. Let’s look at the diagnostic,” he said as he kneed down beside it. “What’s the matter, little guy?” he asked rhetorically. The green glowing letters of the robot’s diagnostic readout answered for him.

FUEL RODS ARE CONSIDERED HAZARDOUS MATERIAL BY DECREE OF CENTRALITY DOCK WORKER’S GUILD. IT IS ILLEGAL TO TRANSPORT ON PUBLIC CONVEYANCE. UNDER PENALTY OF FINE: 1000 LESATS.

“Great,” he moaned. “Now it tells us.” Wendy looked at the readout as well and tsk-ed.
“Ye of little faith,” she murmured, and tore into the robot’s circuit box. She pulled wires from a pocket on her jumpsuit and attached them to the slots where the robot would have instruction chips downloaded. A minicomputer came from another pocket, which she attached the other ends of the wires to. She moved with such a practiced efficiency that it was evident she’d done this before. “There,” she said after just a few minutes of tapping away at her minicomp. “It has a memory loop for the next thirty hepts. It will think it was left sitting here, waiting for you. If we bring it back here within half an hour, it’ll think it never moved.” She produced a felt tip marker from her sleeve pocket. She marked the place where the robot’s four wheels were positioned on the tarmac. “Let’s go,” she said, smiling at Lindy.

*** ***

The fuel rod slid easily into the feeder wheel of Wendy’s Commodore. Lindy smiled in tired satisfaction as his muscles relaxed after the strain of lifting the rod up to the feeder. The wheel spun quietly and slid the rod into the reactor ready bin. Wendy looked up at the machinery and whistled in appreciation.

“Guess I better learn all this stuff,” she said, a little apprehensively. She took her own gloves off and stuffed them in her belt. She’d reminded Lindy that she was also the load handler for the ship before her husband had left. That partially accounted for her staying in shape. She looked at him for a long time. “I suppose some thanks are in order,” she said. Lindy smiled, looking again at her breasts as they rose and fell with her heavy breathing. If it hadn’t been for her, he’d never have lifted the fuel rod into place. He began to appreciate some of what the flight suit just might be concealing after all.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Let’s go back to my ship,” he said. He got up and she followed, the robot trundling alongside. They parked the robot in the exact same position it had been in before they unloaded the fuel rod and left it there. Lindy led her up the ramp to the belly of his ship. His home.

Wendy looked around at the cramped confines of the freighter. The cabin door was open. She looked at the bed for a moment while Lindy went forward to the cockpit. He returned shortly.

“I’d like to thank you,” she said softly, looking at the floor. She crossed her arms and used her hands to rub her arms, as if she were cold. Lindy stepped forward and took her hands in his.

“Here’s how you thank me,” he said quietly, as his spur of the moment decision was made. He pulled her hands away from her arms and she tensed, waiting for whatever came next. He clasped her hands in one of his, while with the other he reached for the pocket of his flight jacket. He pulled out an infochip. “Here,” he said, and pressed it into her palm. She looked up at him, confused. He smiled sheepishly. “Everywhere I go, I download libraries. So I have something to read, you know? This is something for you. It’s called Rights of the Wayfarer. It details everything a small-freight owner needs to know. Port fees. How to tell when you’re being ripped off. Easy repair for non-engineers. How to bargain. How to budget. It’s all laid out. If I hadn’t had this to act as a reference guide, I’d. . . hell, I’d’ve gone belly-up a long time ago. I made a copy for you. Take it. That’s all you need to do, okay? So you and your daughter, you know, can be okay.”

Wendy took the infochip and stared at it, then stared at him. She smiled, and laughed a little, with a profound relief. For a moment she looked like she was going to cry again, but stopped. She put her arms around Lindy and held him close. She murmured thanks into his chest and then looked up and kissed him.

“Thank you. Again.” She pulled away and Lindy gave her hands a squeeze before letting them go. He walked her back to her ship and was introduced to Gabrielle, who Lindy figured must have bore more resemblance to her father than to Wendy-- dark hair to her mother’s blonde, and green eyes to her mother’s hazel. Lindy shook his head in amazement that someone would be damn fool enough to let all this go.

*** ***

“Well, I’ll see you, I guess,” he said. “That is, of you’re going to be a regular in this sector. It’s a good run,” he explained, looking at the mother, the daughter, and their more than capable ship. Wendy nodded, smiling wide.

“I think I’ll stick to this sector,” she said. “I like the people I’ve met. They’ve been friendly and supportive. In fact, I think I’ll go to the Kuji trinary,” she said. “I’ve heard a rumor that there’s always cargo there.” Her eyes sparkled with friendly challenge.

“Well, what do you know,” Lindy replied, “I was thinking about going there myself. Maybe I’ll see you around.”
“Maybe you will.”

*** ***

Hours later, Lindy eased the acceleration seat back and announced his intention to clear orbit. The traffic control station acknowledged his request and he began plotting his course. On his monitor, a white dart with a green and gold stripe climbed out of gravity and inserted itself in orbit. He waved at the sleek Commodore class vessel and imagined its occupants preparing for the two day ride to Kuji. From there, another lonely cargo run loomed ahead. Or maybe not so lonely. She would arrive a day behind him, and he could put an extra day’s docking fee on credit, no problem.

[Evil Sadistic Bastard]

Iz vunderful story. Keep up ze good vurk.