Jason King: Agent to the Stars 1: The Enclaves of Sylox (2 page)

BOOK: Jason King: Agent to the Stars 1: The Enclaves of Sylox
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“Very well,” the voice suddenly boomed from the speakers again after Vol’ox had relayed his professional dealer code. “Reverse course and proceed out of the region at optimum speed.”

Just then the data computer began to go spastic. “We are in the process of erasing all references and recordings of your incursion into restricted space. The rest of your data will not be harmed.”

I looked over at Vol’ox and whispered, “They can do that?”

The alien just shrugged.

Quint tapped me on the shoulder. “Get us out of here, Jason. I don’t think these guys are playing around.”

“Roger that, compadre; we’re outta here.”

**********

Two hours later I set the Noreen II down on the tarmac of the Executive Spaceport outside the Zanzibar Enclave. As the hull creaked and cooled, I stood off at a safe distance admiring the sleek lines of the starship, including the bright gold and red stripes painted along the length of the fuselage.

Quint was standing next to me, vicariously enjoying the moment as well. “Let’s get back to the office,” I said to him. “I have to get ready for the Wilson showing tomorrow. The sooner I close them, the sooner this baby will be mine.”

“Yeah, and when that happens don’t forget your friends.”

“What friends?” I said with a smile. “I have no friends – only victims.”

To my surprise, Quint didn’t find my little joke very funny, as evidenced by the skewed smirk he sent my way.

“Keep it up, smartass,” he said. “Someday you may need your friends … and I’m tellin’ ya, payback can be a bitch.”

 

Chapter 2

The transit platform was extremely crowded the next morning, with such an incredible press of flesh and a cacophony of sound as to be overwhelming to the uninitiated. That’s why when I detected Bill’s distinctive scent before actually seeing him I even managed to impress myself.

This special talent was called situational awareness, and I attributed my level of expertise to the many years I’d spent as an Army Ranger, honing that ability, plus many other, more lethal skills. Nowadays, my Army training wasn’t good for much more than staying alert and always expecting the worse. But still it was fun to play Special Forces Operative again, if only within a menagerie of aliens, while waiting for my newest clients to arrive on the Day-8 shuttle.

I knew Bill was approaching from behind but I wasn’t worried. He wasn’t a threat; however, my acute senses had also spotted the fat slob Jonk Limbor wending his way through the crowd in my direction. I shook my head, knowing that as much as I dreaded the inevitable conversation I had to have with Bill, having to deal with both him
and
Jonk in the same morning just wasn’t fair. Especially on a morning that had started off so well.

“Good morning, Minister,” I said without turning around. “I’ve been expecting you.”

Bill stopped suddenly and blinked several times. “My Captain, my Captain, is it that you now have eyes in the back of your head?” The voice was friendly and jovial. “Even so, it is fortunate that
I
spotted
you
. I have been meaning to make contact, either here or at your dwelling. Are you here today to meet new arrivals?”

Now I turned to face the tall alien. “That’s right; the Wilson family.”

“Are they destined to become our new neighbors?”

“Possibly, but you can never know about these things.”

A few years back I sold Bill his home in the Zanzibar community of Highland Estates, and even though we lived in the same Enclave, we could hardly be called neighbors. Bill’s home was easily three miles from mine, yet because of our past business association – as well as the fact that he played on my softball team – the Transit Minister felt a kinship to me that bordered on, well, creepy. I knew he meant well, and he was a
very
well-placed and powerful official within the local government. So I would indulge him, for that reason, and a couple more.

First, his frequent referrals often resulted in even more deals coming my way, and in my line of work it was always important to cultivate lasting – and profitable – relationships.

And second: Bill was a friend – creepy, smelly and quirky – but still a friend.

“How are you feeling?” I asked with genuine concern, yet not for the reason the Minister would take away from the question.

“I am completely healed and cleared for action, my Captain. And after so long without playing, I am quite anxious to take the field again with you and the rest of the team.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” I said, even though I wasn’t. “But I have to tell you, I moved Mike to second base after your accident. He’ll be pretty upset if I have to move him again.”

A look of panic came over Bill’s green-tinted face. “But I so look forward to the contests, Jason. If I cannot play at second base, then where can I play?”

For the past two weeks I had agonized over that very question, ever since Bill had taken a ball to the forehead and lay unconscious on the field for a full ten minutes. Granted, the ball
had
taken a wicked hop, one which would have flown harmless over the head of any normal second baseman. But with Bill’s reverse leg joints, the alien was able to jump ten feet straight up when startled – like when a softball was headed his way. So Bill had jumped
into
the ball, making the accident entirely his fault.

I used the injury as an excuse to sit him for the rest of the game, while also requiring a doctor’s clearance before allowing him to return to the team, sighting insurance concerns.

By the way, we won that game, as well as the two after that.

I know what you’re saying: What’s someone like that doing on a softball team in the first place? Well, it’s complicated.

To begin with, as a resident of the Zanzibar Enclave, Bill was naturally aware of the various sports teams I’d organized for the subdivision. His Zorphin race was native to the planet Sylox, yet they didn’t have any sports of their own to speak of. So soon after moving in, Bill began to badger me about letting him join the team. Eventually I gave in. Looking back on that decision now, it
was
a mistake. Yet letting him play
did
help with Human-Alien relations, and it also went a long way to enhancing my cred with the native population, as well as supplementing my bank account.

But now he was returning to the team and I had to find a place for him to play, and somewhere he’d do the least damage.

“What about catcher, splitting duties with N’xo? I know you won’t get as much field time, but I could compensate by moving you up in the batting order. Will that work for you?”

I was relieved when his knobby-skinned face lit up with joy. “I would welcome that greatly! You know how much I enjoy the thrill of batting, and I must say I feel I am quite competent at the endeavor.”

The alien had a point. Measuring in at just under seven-feet-tall, and with triple-jointed arms to go along with his reverse-jointed knees, Bill could indeed hit – just as long as the slow-pitched softball didn’t come directly at his head!

I breathed a sigh of relief, even though I could still envision both him and N’xo taking turns bumbling around the backstop like a pair of Keystone Cops trying to recover a ball. Yet there were only so many positions where I could play the four aliens on the team – and if two of the four could take turns at catching, then my problem was solved.

The other two aliens were ringers of the first-degree, products of various evolutionary processes that made them world-class players, no matter what world you were on. I
had
to play them!

“Very good, my friend, then I’ll see you in two days. It will be good to have you back on the team—”


Billork
, you are a disgrace to your race!”

I had watched the rotund Jonk Limbor approach through the crowd, flanked by his two Rulian bodyguards. To his credit, Bill had noticed him, too. Now the hulking Zorphin leaned over the much shorter alien, appearing even taller and more threatening. “Caution, Mon Limbor, I do not take well to insults.”

The Historken wasn’t intimidated. “It was not an insult, but rather an observation.”

Jonk’s voice was gravelly and hard to follow, unless one had experience with his kind. Unfortunately, I’d had plenty.

Jonk was an arrogant bastard who had been a thorn in my side for years now. He was part of a group of building contractors who fought every petition the Humans brought before the regulatory and licensing boards on Sylox. Luckily, they were held in check by a thin coalition of Human supporters I had helped form several years ago. As a result, Jonk held me personally responsible for every setback his group suffered, even though I had been out of that side of the business for over five years.

Even though we had less contact these days, I still enjoyed pushing the alien’s many buttons and watching his fat face glow red when upset. You could actual feel heat radiating out to a couple of feet from his face when this happened. It was really something to experience.

His two bodyguards were standing off a few paces from us, watching me, not Bill. I was aware of the abilities of the Rulian, so I didn’t fear them. How they felt towards me was prominently displayed on their fat, grey faces.

Jonk was continuing to dig the hole even deeper with the transit minister. “It is well-known that your race has begun to suckle from the teat of the Humans. Even you, Billork, have adopted their housing and athletic activities. You should be aware, others are beginning to talk.”

“By others you refer to those within your minority cabal in the Assembly – the Linoreans,” Bill said. “It is obvious why your group would hold such distain for the Humans; they have taken much of
your
profits for themselves. Yet do not fault them for producing a superior product—”

“Superior product?”
Jonk cried out. He began to choke, horking up green spittle in the process. This went on for several seconds until he finally recovered, only moments before his guards stepped in to help. “They build ugly boxes –
above the surface
– and creatures like you buy them. That is not the way of your people, or of many other species serving the Capital. It is bad enough that the Human plague has spread beyond the incorporated limits, yet your support is only helping to keep their malignancy alive.”

“Your constructs are dark and damp,” Bill said. “I – along with many others – now prefer to be on the surface, with space to roam as we take in the vastness of the open sky.”

“But your species have always been subsurface dwellers.”

“That was a necessity from our ancient past. Now we are safe above ground and have been for a thousand years, and yet still you insist we stay cloistered underground and not free ourselves to a more open lifestyle.”

“Disgusting, Bill—”

“That is
Minister
Billork,
Mon
Limbor. I would ask that you respect my position, if not my lifestyle.”

“So be it,
Minister
. But you must know that the time of the Humans is drawing to a close.”

This is the point where I would normally have entered the fray, teasing Jonk with some strategically-placed insults of my own. But Bill was doing such a fine job of raising Jonk’s blood-pressure that I let it ride. Besides, I still had twenty minutes before the Wilson’s shuttle arrived and it was fun watching the two aliens go at it.

“You speak of legislation your group is pushing through the Assembly; you must know that it will not pass. A moratorium on Human building in and around the Capital is uncalled for and has very little support.”

“You may be correct,
Minister
. It may not pass
this
Assembly, yet what it will do is reveal to us those who we must oppose and replace in the coming elections. We may not prevail at this time, yet we will in the near future. In fact, I am now in possession of a very interesting document which may change the minds of the Assembly and of the Council, and thereby accelerate that eventual result.”

“You are playing games, Mon Limbor, grasping for anything to disgrace the Humans. Your efforts are transparent and juvenile.”

Limbor smiled, a crooked, quivering movement of his too-small mouth. “We shall see, but this document pertains to the
Simorean Crisis
.”

Bill shook his head and frowned. “You have now confused me thoroughly, as well as destroyed what little remained of your credibility. How can an event that occurred over two hundred standard years ago affect the Member’s view of the Humans and their building activities? They have only been members of the Union for a little over ten years.”

“For the answer to that question you will have to wait,
Minister
Billork. Yet from your position within the Assembly, it will not be long, and then we shall see how long the Humans stay in favor with the Council.”

“Such dramatics will not be received favorably in the halls of government; it will only make you look more desperate.”

The reddish glow of Limbor’s face was growing even deeper and I could already feel the air temperature rise a little in his direction. “My patience with you is at an end,
Minister Billork
. Your refusal to accept reality is beyond reason.”

When Jonk turned his squinty eyes on me I smiled and said, “
Jonk
, you seem to be particularly – what word should I use –
intense
this morning. I hope that translates accurately. Did your mate reject you last night? If so, then I can’t blame her. I’m sure even Historken females have their standards.”

I knew that using his common name without the
Mon
prefix would raise the alien’s ire a little more, especially coming from such a low-life primitive as a Human. In addition, there were certain boundaries that were not to be crossed between species, and one of them had to do with sex. However, the way I looked at it, I hadn’t been consulted when the boundaries were set, so I didn’t think they applied to me, and especially not when it came to dealing with this obnoxious ball of obesity.

BOOK: Jason King: Agent to the Stars 1: The Enclaves of Sylox
3.92Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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