Orbital Claims Adjuster Page 9

  Yup, it had been carefully opened, and the few coins and credit chip he had kept there were gone. He cursed.

  He had been robbed. The whole thing was a setup. The man must have been in on the deal. Crap. He stood up on tiptoes and scanned the crowd. It was no use. They were gone. Besides, he couldn’t leave his post. Jake internally thanked fate that at least Suzanne or Vidal hadn’t been around to see him get suckered so easily. He stepped back to his post and turned around to pick up the shot gun he’d left leaning against the wall.

  Crap! The shotgun was missing too.

  “You useless Imperial turd, Stewart!” Mr. Vidal said.

  “Yes, sir,” Jake replied.

  “Why don’t I just drop you off here with the Militia, Stewart. They can take you back and put you in jail.”

  “I’d rather stay here, sir.”

  “Do you honestly think I care what you want, Stewart?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Good. Because I don’t. Remember that.” Mr. Vidal ran his hands through his hair and shook his head. “You’re useless, Stewart. Can’t you do anything right?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “What??”

  Jake stammered. “I’m not so good with guns, sir. Or…or fighting. But I can do other things.”

  “Astound me, Stewart. What useless thing can you do!”

  “I’m…really good at accounting, sir,” Jake replied, his voice growing quieter as he spoke. “Paperwork. Research. That sort of thing.”

  Vidal stared back at him. “Well, why don’t you get started on the paperwork for losing a shotgun. It’s substantial,” Mr. Vidal said. He stalked off.

  “That could have gone better, Jake,” Zeke said.

  “Yes. I could have.”

  “It’s not so bad, Jake,” Suzanne said. “Mr. Vidal did not seem to like us much at the start. It does not matter what we do, I think he is angry we replaced his friends. This is not a big deal. Nobody on the station died. None of us died. It will be ok.” She surprised Jake by giving him a quick hug. He smelled that citrus smell again. Zeke slapped his back then he and Suzanne walked off to the mess.

  “None of us have died. Yet,” said Jake. He search for the proper forms on the computer. “Weapons, deadly, loss of.”

  Chapter 7

  Jake was sitting in the tiny galley the next morning filling out forms when Zeke and Suzanne came in for breakfast.

  “Jake, you wake up very early. Do you like your mornings so much?” Zeke asked.

  “I have a lot of work to do,” Jake replied without looking up from the table.

  Zeke frowned at the tray selection. “Work? What type of work. And what is a blue-white-orange? Is it fruit?” Zeke said, popping the foil-covered package into the heating slot.

  “Algae, super potatoes, and turnip.”

  “What is a turnip?”

  “You’ll see. I don’t like it.”

  “Why do we have so many of these strange vegetables here? Why do we not have those fruits that we see on the vids? I would like to try one of those lemons I saw in the movies.”

  “Delta is too cold for most fruits. Root vegetables and sea algae. Potatoes. Cold weather food.”

  “I would also like to try more fruits,” Suzanne said. “And Jake, you did not say what you are working on?”

  “Vidal dug into my records and found out I graduated from the Merchant Academy, so he’s got me reconciling all the cargo and fuel paperwork and filling out maintenance forms and loading manifests. It’s all part of my punishment for losing the shotgun.”

  “You can do that?”

  “Yes, I can. It’s not fun though. It’s even less fun than normal because Vidal won’t let me go dockside to check their lists. I have to do everything from here, which takes five times as long.”

  “Why is he doing that?” Zeke asked.

  “Because he’s an ass and he hates me,” Jake said. “He’s pretty angry. He was really angry about me losing that shotgun. But I suppose paperwork is better than the alternative he threatened me with.”

  “How did he threaten you?”

  “He said he’d leave me on the deck of the ship while we were maneuvering without a line. That’s as good as throwing somebody out an airlock

  “That is not good,” Zeke said.

  “I think things are not going well for him,” Suzanne said. “You probably did not notice, but we did not bring anything back. He was not able to buy those metals that he wanted. We came back with the empty hands.”

  “He didn’t? No, I didn’t notice. How come?”

  “I could not hear well, but he seems to get angry very quickly. There was some dispute about the price, so we just left. He was very upset.”

  “He didn’t offer a higher price? Or try to negotiate more? Maybe offer a trade?”

  “No, we came directly back to the ship.

  “That’s not the way it’s usually done. You appear to storm out angrily, but then you come back.”

  “That is not what we did. I do not think he has done this before,” Suzanne said. “But you should be happy, Jake. He was angry even before he learned you lost the shotgun. He was not just angry with you.”

  “Hmm. I guess so. We should be careful not to antagonize him,” Jake said. “He has a lot of power over us.”

  Zeke smiled at Jake and clasped him on the shoulder. “Too late for you, my friend.”

  ***

  Jake had gone back to his cabin to finish the paperwork. A series of angry emails kept coming from Vidal as he trudged through the papers. Apparently, Jake was not only stupid but useless and irresponsible and didn’t understand anything. Oh, and he was a poor speller.

  Zeke and Suzanne went with Vidal onto the next station. Jake stayed behind doing paperwork and was still there when they came back. He moved out to the galley again, just to be somewhere different. There was a standard gym set of folding bars and small weights at the end of the hallway. Jake had hardly been in the galley five minutes when Suzanne came out and started to stretch before her workout. The stretching was very involved and required a lot of twisting and bending over. Jake found it very hard to concentrate on his work. Did she just wait until he was out there to start her workout? And why did she have to bend over and touch her toes so often?

  “Jake, will you boost me up for my pull-ups?” Suzanne said.

  “What?”

  “Grab my legs and lift me up so I can reach the pull-up bar.”

  Jake walked over and Suzanne showed him how to lift her up so she could reach the bar. This required grasping his arms around her thighs and sticking his nose ten centimeters from her butt cheeks. She made him stay there until she had completed her set.

  “Thank you, Jake. You are very kind,” she blew him a kiss as she sauntered away. Jake was almost certain that she didn’t normally sway that much. He heard a snort and turned his head. Zeke was watching him from down the corridor.

  “Sorry, Zeke,” Jake blushed.

  “Sorry about what, Jake?”

  “She’s your sister.”

  “And a very good sister she is. But she is a grown woman, and I don’t get involved in those things. Besides, I like you.”

  “You do? Thanks.”

  “You would make a good brother-in-law.”

  “I would?” Jake perked up. Did Zeke know something he didn’t?

  “Yes. In about ten years. In the meantime, I don’t think things will work out the way you want.”

  “You don’t?”

  “With Suzanne, things never work out the way the men want. But don’t give up hope, you could be the first.” Zeke stretched his arms a bit. “You have been very helpful to us, and we appreciate it. You are a good friend, Jake Stewart.”

  “Thanks, Zeke. I need a few friends right now.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Vidal hates me. I’m a screwup in his eyes, and he’s not totally wrong.”

  “Well, loosing that shotgun could have happened to anybody.”


  Jake looked at Zeke for a moment. “No, no it could not have happened to anybody. It happened to me because I’m a dumbass.”

  Zeke sighed. “Okay, I am your friend, but that did seem kind of sloppy. But you are good at other things.

  “Hmmph. Paperwork maybe. But I want to be good at things like you guys are—shooting or burning down a bar or whatever. Every time I get an opportunity, I screw it up. I get beat up or I lose something expensive or I get sent to jail or I end up making my boss hate me.”

  “Well, at least it was only a shotgun. It is not like you shot anybody.”

  “I guess so.”

  “There is still hope for you, Jake,” Zeke said.

  Zeke looked around for a moment. Jake wasn’t sure why, because there was only the three of them locked on this small deck.

  “Vidal is very unhappy. He did not bring back any metal again.”

  “No?”

  “None at all. They sold it to somebody else. He left in a rage.”

  Jake shook his head. “They didn’t.”

  “They did not what?”

  “Sell it to somebody else. That’s a ploy. They say that they sold it to somebody else to drive the price up.”

  “Oh. I guess that makes sense. What happens then?”

  “You are supposed to tell them to go buy it back from whomever they bought it from, and that you’ll pay the difference. It’s a standard tactic.”

  “I did not know that.”

  “I guess Vidal doesn’t either.”

  ***

  They were on final approach for the next station when Vidal came down to their deck.

  “Listen up. Zeke, you are on lock guard. We’ve got more things to pick up, and we took on board a sensor computer at the last station for a TGI ship here at Refinery-77. They’re expensive and hard to get, so I need two people with me. Stewart, you and Suzanne are going to suit up in your semi’s and escort me over there. I’ll have a revolver and so will you, Stewart. Suzanne, you get a shock stick. I want a non-lethal option in case we meet some troublemakers who aren’t worth shooting.

  “Thank you, sir!” Suzanne said. “I’ve never used a shock stick before. Can I try it out on Jake?”

  Vidal laughed over the comm. “Sure, go ahead. Just make sure he’s recovered by the time we get started.”

  Suzanne stuck her tongue out at Jake and grinned.

  “Stewart, don’t lose this gun as well.”

  “No, sir. I won’t,” Jake said.

  “Excuse me, sir, but why do we have to get suited up in a semi? We’ll be inside the station. Can’t we just use a regular skinsuit?” Suzanne asked.

  “Semis are kind of like armor. Shock sticks won’t work on the panels, and it’s harder to punch you or hit you with a stick or something. Mostly because its regulations, to be honest,” Jake explained.

  “Stewart, shut your trap and come with me for your gun.”

  He followed Vidal up to the arms locker. Vidal opened it up with a thumbprint, and took a revolver, ammunition pouch, and holster out. “Take one and load it up.” He turned and began loading his own gun.

  Jake took a revolver and puzzled over the bullet selections. There were green bands on some, those were training rounds, so he shouldn’t take those. He racked his memory. He needed black bands. He grabbed them, flipped out the cylinder, and loaded six rounds. Vidal came back and, as per regulations, did a visual scan to make sure Jake had not taken one of the two shotguns or the two other revolvers there. “All set, Stewart?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Get the LaFleurs and meet me at the airlock in fifteen, suited up.”

  ***

  Jake, Suzanne, and Vidal marched through the station. Vidal led, Jake right behind him, with Suzanne bringing up the rear. The sensor computer was in a black bag slung over her shoulder. Vidal stopped and linked his comm into the station’s net. It displayed a green path to the other TGI ship.

  “Huh. Says we have to walk all the way around the outside of this cylinder, a twenty-minute walk. Some maintenance on the shafts. Let’s get started,” Vidal said, and they began to troop around the circumference of the station.

  Refinery stations were big. Giant mirrors concentrated the sun’s rays on piles of ore and heated them to boiling, driving off impurities. Different metals boiled at different temperatures, so changing the aspect of the mirrors allowed different temperatures and boiled off different metals. It was the same chemical process as distilling alcohol. Ships tended to want to stay away from liquid metals that might coat their sensors or giant mirrors that would burn them to a crisp, so there was a great deal of distance between docking ports on a refinery. A twenty-minute walk around the perimeter of a station was not at all unusual.

  The group marched past a single station crewman walking opposite them. His skinsuit looked like it had seen hard use, and it was patched all over. He slowed, looked at them carefully, then continued walking.

  Jake felt a bit uneasy. His hand reached down to clasp his holster, just to reassure himself it was still there. He had difficulties in the past on other stations with people who slowed and looked at him, and this part of the station was deserted. He turned around and looked over his shoulder. The crewman had stopped and was watching them.

  “That’s far enough,” said a voice in front of them. Jake turned back around to see a brown-haired man with a tattered skinsuit stepping out from behind a metal truss. His face was dirty, as was the shock stick he carried in his hand. A pinched-face woman stepped out behind him. She aimed a shotgun at them.

  “Give it up,” the man said, pointing at Suzanne’s bag.

  Jake felt his heart race. An ambush. He froze.

  “Easy everybody. Easy, easy,” said Vidal as he held up his open hands. “Look, we don’t want any trouble, but you don’t want to do this. This is a sensor computer, not something you can easily turn into cash. It only fits certain corporate ships, and no corporate buyer will buy it from you if you try to sell it. They’ll just turn you in.”

  Jake couldn’t seem to move at all. He knew he should do something but what. He could feel his breath rattling down his throat. His eyes focused on the shotgun. He could see the hole at the end of the barrel clearly.

  Vidal’s voice seemed to come from very far away. “We just want to deliver this and get back to our ship. We’ll chalk this down to a misunderstanding. You folks were expecting gold or something, but it’s just specialized electronics. Useless to you.”

  Draw your gun, Jake. He had to draw his gun and shoot. That was the only option. Jake began to pick at his holster. It wouldn’t open. Why not? It had a snap. Damn it, he had forgotten it had a snap. Stop being stupid and focus, Jake. He banged his chin button to magnetize his boots and grasped the handle of the revolver.

  He heard Vidal say, “Suzanne, show them what’s in the bag.” He couldn’t see him though, even though he was right behind him. All he could see was the shotgun.

  Suzanne had stepped to the side and begun to unzip the bag when Jake got a firm grasp on his revolver. He pulled it up, crouching in the two-handed stance Sergeant Russell had shown him all those weeks ago. The pinched-faced woman had lowered the shotgun while they talked. Jake faced her, covered one hand with another as he had been taught, and took careful aim at her center of mass. She saw him point the gun at her. Her face turned white as she realized she couldn’t get her shotgun up in time.

  The sergeant would be proud of him. Staring down the barrel at her chest, he began slowly squeezing the trigger. The pistol jumped up. He brought it back down. He aimed and squeezed again. The pistol jumped back up. Down, aim, squeeze. He couldn’t hear the shots at all. Was the piston even working? Were the shots silent? The woman still hadn’t fallen. Aim. Squeeze. Shit, Vidal was falling. He was down. Who had hit him? The shotgun hadn’t fired. Aim. Squeeze. Aim, Squeeze. Still up. Aim. Click.

  Click?

  Jake pulled the trigger. Another click. Again, click. He shook the gun. Empty. The pinched-face w
oman looked at her arms, her chest, down, up, then back at Jake.

  Jake stood completely still. His hearing came back with a rush as he heard people yelling and a banging noise. Why wasn’t she down?

  He realized he had just missed a stationary target from three meters away with all six shots.

  The woman brought the shotgun up and pointed at him. Jake felt something slam into his side, knocking him down. The shotgun blast roared over his head as Suzanne’s tackle knocked him down. Jake rolled over onto his back, stunned. Suzanne reached for the gun still in Vidal’s holster. She pulled it out and faced forward. The pinched-face woman had broken her gun open and was fumbling for a new shell.

  Suzanne aimed Vidal’s gun two handed and fired. The bullet pinged off the woman’s arm in a puff of dust, and she screamed and dropped the shotgun. Suzanne fired again and the hit the woman hard on her chest, knocking her backwards. The woman and man turned and ran. Suzanne turned around and aimed the gun just as Jake saw the third man behind retreating. She shot, but the bullet pinged right in the middle of the closed hatch the man had leaped through. Suzanne rolled her back to the wall and looked back to the front, but that man and woman had vanished.

  Jake shook his head. His hands and wrists hurt from the recoil, and he was a little banged up from hitting the floor. He leaned toward Vidal and saw blood pumping out from his arm. He pulled a spray can of wound-seal out of the emergency pack on his belt and pointed it at the wound. He sprayed it carefully over where the blood was pumping out, and it immediately made a sterile plastic seal. The blood ceased pumping. “It’s okay. It’s not bad. We’ll set you up,” Jake said.

  At that moment, the decompression alarm began to ring. Jake didn’t feel his ears pop, so it couldn’t be a big drop, but they needed to get out of there. Suzanne jumped up to collect the dropped shotgun and grab the comm computer.