The Journal of Caius Oakley

[Coin]

Part two Shanks pony

Waking up in strange surroundings always gives me that panicky moment of existential doubt where the hell am I, what am I doing here before the memories of the night before kick in. Urgh. Did I really say that? I lay in the huge bed, cursing myself with recriminations for a few minutes, before my bladder started making pressing demands.

I crawled to the edge of the bed, and padded across the thick carpet to the bathroom. As I made myself more comfortable, I looked around the room. A wall-to-wall mirror, a pair of deep frosted-glass sinks, a shower with a dozen spray heads, and a tub with multiple jets set into the sides. Nice I thought.

The controls of the shower baffled me. After pressing switches, turning valves for a couple of minutes, I gave up and settled for filling the tub with water. I didnt bother trying to activate the jets; settling back into the water, I contemplated the night before.

Well, she didnt actually slap me away was the most positive thought I had. Her reason gave me mixed feelings the fact that it wasnt her choice to reject my clumsy advances gave me heart, but a woman saying to a man that the situation is too dangerous for you is bad for male pride, which is a fragile thing at the best of times.

As if making decisions about my ship for me wasnt bad enough, now shes mollycoddling me.

Absently, I turned over in my mind the reasons that she would think I needed mollycoddling, and why she thought I needed the armour upgrade so badly that she would buy it without consulting me first. My toes turning pink and wrinkly told me it was time to climb out. Standing naked and dripping wet in possibly the most luxurious bathroom in Sirius, I must have presented a comical sight as I was randomly opening cupboards in search of a towel.

What the hell, I growled, scrubbing myself dry with a dressing gown. When push comes to shove

During my soak in the tub, the bedroom had been tidied, bed made, boots polished, flight suit taken. Dammit, you cant just take someones clothes I complained, and began another random search of cupboards, looking for the wardrobe, which, when I finally located it, was empty. I pulled on the damp dressing gown, and was about to go searching the resort, when the door chimed.

Your uniform, Sir.

Oh, thanks.

Theyd done an impressive job in such a short time. The stain of the coffee that Id dripped on my leg back on Cambridge had gone, a few small rips had been repaired, and the zipper of the map pocket on my left thigh had been replaced.

Hey, nice work. Uh, how do I go about giving you a tip?

Oh thank you, Sir. The bell-boy handed me a small plastic cube. Just press your index finger against one of the sides of the cube for five seconds, and it will automatically be added to your bill.

Neat, I thought. So much easier than carrying cash. Fingers, dont leave home without them. Yep, I DO crack myself up sometimes. Its a character defect that Im too busy laughing to fix. The cube had different amounts printed on each side. I held my finger on the 50 until the cube vibrated, and I handed it back.

Is breakfast still being served?

Yes, Sir. Do you have any special dietary requirements?

I thought about saying no Synth Paste, but that would a complete waste of breath on Curacao. No, none.

I dressed quickly and went straight to the restaurant, where I was met by David Johnson.

Good morning Sir, table for one?

Actually, Im having breakfast with Miss DAubeny.

Ah, Sir, I regret that Miss DAubeny has already checked out. She left earlier this morning.

What the hell? I see, well, in that case, a table for one. I needed some answers from her, and her habit of disappearing was getting really annoying. Did she leave any message for me?

Youll have to ask at the front desk, Sir.

Seething inwardly, I followed the maitre d to a table and sat down. My troubled thoughts meant that I hardly noticed what I ate. As far as I was concerned, Beatrice could go hang. All I wanted now was the 10m that she owed. It can be fun to play around with silly rich girls, but there comes a time when your patience is exhausted.

I fairly marched up to the front desk. Are there any messages for me?

The clerk took in my flight suit, hesitated, and then asked for my name. Ill just check, Sir. Here you are. He passed the envelope over.

I ran my finger down the seal, tearing it open, marvelling at the old-fashioned paper envelope. Inside was a Spa & Cruise bankers draft for the sum of almost 10m. Well, thats a start I thought. As I pulled it out, a smaller piece of paper dropped to the floor. I picked it up and unfolded it. It said Sorry, and was signed with a large B. Hmm, its gonna take more than that, but I appreciate the thought at least.

Can I cash this here, I said, waving the bankers draft at the clerk.

This is highly irregular. Why was the balance not paid directly into your neural net in the usual manner?

Beats me.

Well, I can do this for you, but in order to avoid a 10% handling charge, you will have to settle your bill at the same time.

10%?, no way in hell am I giving you a million credits just to cash a credit note! Can you tell me what my bill stands at please? Yeah, lets see if I picked up dinner last night.

At present, a little under 600,000.

Bloody hellfire. Yes, I think I will settle up.

If you would just place your index finger here, Ill deduct it from your neural net. The cooling of his manner hadnt gone unnoticed. I thought it was time I took me and my newly-repaired flight suit outa here.

I picked up the note from Beatrice, turned it over and wrote on the back, Make it up to me sometime. Well, if she could play it cool, so could I, and it wouldnt hurt me to start.

Have you got another envelope?

Here you are.

I sealed the piece of paper inside. Can you give this message to Miss DAubeny the next time she visits?

It may be some time.

Nothing I like more than someone who points out the obvious. Thats alright.

Very well. There is, of course, a 100 credit fee for this service.

I was thinking that I was being very politely mugged at this point, and I pressed my index finger on the sensor wordlessly.

Will that be all?

Yes, I think so Unless of course, youre going to charge me for breathing Spa & Cruise air?

I left the resort, and headed for the spaceport terminal, thinking about my next move. Beatrice had clearly given me the brush-off, I needed a cargo and a destination. As I arrived at the landing pad, these minor problems paled into insignificance when I realised that I needed a ship first. I grabbed a passing dock hand.

Wheres the Firefly that was on this dock last night?

It took off at first light, now geddoff me.

Wheres launch control? He jerked a thumb over his shoulder and sloped off in the opposite direction.

Launch control was as much help as a cheap thruster all noise and no results. We tracked it for a while towards the Coronado jump-hole, but we werent aware that anything was amiss, or wed have sent a fighter wing after it. This has certainly never happened on Curacao before.

Yeah, I have a lot of firsts around here. Is there anyone around here that can lend me a fighter?

I believe that the ship dealer sells both Barracudas and Sea Serpents.

I was thinking more of a loan than a purchase after all, my ship was stolen from your landing pad.

Youd have to talk to Col. Bradley, our Defence Co-ordinator about that, but hes on extended leave and not expected back for some time.

Who else might have a ride for me?

You might try the commodity dealer, Benjamin Roland, to see if he knows when the next supply ship is due. In the mean time, Ill register your loss, and if the ship docks at any Spa & Cruise resort, it will be apprehended for you.

Great, sit tight and wait for the thief to hand themselves in? At 600k per day, I could afford to stay for about a fortnight before they kicked me out for vagrancy.

Ill try Ben Roland, but thanks. For nothing I added to myself as I walked back across the landing pad.

Ben wasnt in his office, nor did his staff know where he was, or when he would be back. They didnt know when the next supply ship was expected either. I wandered out onto the landing pad, at a loss for inspiration.

A grizzled old dock hand called out to me. It looks like youms riding Shanks Pony now! he laughed.

What?

Shanks pony. The horse with ten toes. Seeing my blank look, he continued. Your legs. Shanks pony is your legs.

Well, I could hardly walk across Sirius looking for my ship, but I saw his point. I was marooned on a pleasure planet and my supply of credits was dwindling too fast for my liking here. It was a very fine creek, gold plated in fact, but my paddle had been stolen. He beckoned me over, making room on the crate next to him, and offered me a wedge of chewing tobacco, which I waved away.

Heh, youms could always become a dent-basher like us he chuckled.

Hmm, I think Ill pass on that one. This made him chuckle some more, which turned into a fleshy cough. He spat out a long green squirt of tobacco juice onto the dock, which splashed.

Whatcha goin do now then boy?.

I need a ship to chase down a thief.

You dont fancy one of them See Serpents then? Theys a tidy ship.

Bit out of my range at the moment Id only just bought the Firefly.

Heh, thats been cut down for spares before the engines were cold, Id wager.

What is it about Curacao that makes people point out the obvious? If I were to comb Sirius for the felon, it could take weeks, if not more, and that could use up all of my earnings from that ill-advised trip to Kurile that had gotten me into this fine mess. I needed to bring in the bacon, which meant a freighter as large as my credits could handle. Whilst I could afford just a large transport from South Shields Refinery in Newcastle, getting there was going to be a problem, as very few passenger liners go out that way. It looked like I was going back to driving the transport from Pittsburgh a ship that I had sold only a few days before.

There was another factor influencing my decision. If I chose the smaller transport, not only would the pirates tax be lighter, but the other trader captains would be more expansive in their gestures. All trader captains gossip, sharing information about routes, prices and pirate activity. In a smaller ship, theyd be prone to showing off a bit more to the green-horn. But if I turned up in a fighter ship, Id automatically be excluded from the club, and I needed the information if I were to track down my ship. In combat a transport is as fearsome as a kitten, but Id have a reason for flitting across the galaxy, whereas a fighter hopping from system to system would draw attention, and I didnt want the thief to see me coming. All I needed now was a ride up to New York.

After a day spent watching Curacao resort slowly turn away from the sun, help finally arrived from a BMM transport out of Stokes Station that was avoiding pirates in Magellan. Capt. Martha Parker, a heavy-set woman in her late forties, was aghast to hear of my plight.

And Spa & Cruise did nothing, just let it take off? How did the thief get past the security system?

How ever he did it, he did it quickly. Im sure the dock security would have noticed someone banjaxing the locks.

Eventually was her only comment.

She was kind enough to drop me on the surface of Pittsburgh, and waved away any mention of a fee. We traders gotta stick together she said.

Well, thank you. I hope I dont have to do the same favour for you though.

Yeah, me too. Good luck with getting your ship back.

I waved her off the landing pad, and turned to the ship dealers hangar.

---

A Day in the Life of an NPC | Coin | The Journal of Caius Oakley | Build Your Dream Boat