The Expediter

I really wanted to look him in the eyes. I wanted to stare him down, remind him that this is my office, thank you very much, and I wouldn’t be pushed around. I wanted to tell him that I had some screenwork that really needed my attention and he was going to have to leave. Unfortunately, I couldn’t do either of these things. For one thing, his partner had a hand around my throat and was squeezing so tight I couldn’t breathe, much less talk. For another, my screen was nailed to my desk by some damn huge knife he waved under my nose about three seconds after he barged into my office. Out here on the space lanes these things happen to smuggler captains and enforcers three or four times a day. I’m not either of those, and it never happened to me.
My name is Adnan, and I’m an expediter. On a big station like Zephon there’s usually a bunch of us, but out here there’s just me. I control the movement of cargo on and offstation. Well, the official movement. The actual humping and dumping was done by more physical types, who could have made mincemeat of the little guy who was threatening me again.
“You have two choices here. Well, three, I guess.”
He jerked his head at the large one, who looked confused.
“Let him down, Jaks. He’s no good to us dead.”
Jaks let go and I slumped to the floor. It was hard work just to get air down my bruised throat, but I worked at it anyway. I could just hear the little guy over the whistling noise I was making.
“Choice number one is the good one. We send you our shipping files and you give them the ok. Everyone is happy. Choice two, we send you our shipping files, you investigate them, or flag them as suspect, and we kill you.”
I opened my eyes and looked up at him. He was smiling. Grinning really. Jaks, the big lug, was grinning back at him. Little guy looked down at me and I frowned at him.
“What?” he said, looking puzzled. I couldn’t answer yet, so I held up three fingers.
“Oh yeah, the third choice.” He yanked the knife out of my screen with a grunt and waved it at me again. “We kill ya now.”
“I’m no good to you dead.” I could barely understand what I’ve said, much less believe I said it, but little weaselly guy looks like I slapped him. He rallied quickly.
“Good. Glad you were listening to me. So, you take your pick of options one or two. And don’t keep me waiting, I’m done being nice.”
“I’ll take…” I had to break off for a brief coughing fit. “I’ll take option one. Thank you.”
Jaks rumbled with laughter, but I didn’t see anything funny. Neither did the weasel.
“Knock it off. Man can’t help it he’s got manners. And a brain, lucky for him. Now, you memorise this ident code, and when our shipping files come in with this ident on ‘em, you run ‘em straight through, understand?”
I blinked at the ident code, trying furiously to fix the string of numbers and letters in my brain. It was tricky, but I wouldn’t be a good expediter if I didn’t have a good memory. Just as well, considering what happened next.
“Got it?” The weasel grinned as he asked the question and I couldn’t help feeling that’s bad news for me.
“I got it.”
“Tell me.”
He screwed the paper up into a little ball as I reeled off the code. He asked again and I repeated it.
“Good. Now open your mouth.”
Oh boy. I thought this was coming. As soon as my mouth was open, he jammed the wadded paper inside and slammed my chin up with the palm of his hand, hard enough to rattle my teeth.
“Chew and swallow, there’s a good boy.”
Jaks laughed again, but this time there’s no rebuke, because hey, this is comedy, right? It didn’t feel like much of a joke trying to swallow a wad of paper with a dry throat, but once I’d choked it down we were all friends again. Jaks thumped a huge hand down on my shoulder and the Weasel gave me a parting shot too.
“We’ll be keeping tabs on you for a little while, just to make sure you don’t go telling any wild tales to the Security drones, right?”
“Perish the thought.”
They left, Jaks muttering “Perish duh fought. Huh huh huh!” as he went. Once they were gone I lunged for my ‘spenser and dialled a cup of water. I half expected it to break down at such an unusual request, but it whirred and clunked and down dropped the cup. Once it was full I snatched it up and drained it, hoping to ease the feeling that my throat had been scraped with sandpaper. Then I used the wall com to request a new screen from Stores.
“Requests for new equipment have to be sent by screen.”
Yeah. I’d forgotten what Stores could be like.
“Can’t do that. It’s a new screen I need.”
There was silence. I wondered if he was going through his rules folder.
“All requests for new equipment have to be sent by screen.”
Ah. We’d reached a default answer, and in the face of any new argument he’d just keep repeating this one line. I sighed and clicked off the connection. It wasn’t worth getting angry with the stores clerk, or marching down there with my shattered screen and dumping it on his desk. For one thing, producing a broken screen only proves I have a broken screen, it doesn’t provide him with the data he needs to release a new screen from stores. It helped that I had worked in stores a while back and knew how insane the stock database could be when it came to issuing new equipment. I’d have to use a public screen, and I’d have to do it soon. I really did have a lot of work to get through, and the Weasel wasn’t kidding when he said they’d be sending me some shipping files. They’d have to be cleared asap or I’d be staring at that knife again.
Ok, this is your chance to ask if I’m a man or a mouse. Go on, tell me I should be brave and go straight to the Security office and tell them I’m being threatened into co-operating with smugglers. Here’s how that would go:
“Captain, you have to help me! I’m being threatened by smugglers!”
“Really, Expediter Adnan? Have you any proof of this?”
“Look, here’s my screen. They stabbed it with a knife, then they threatened me with the same weapon!”
“All I see here is damaged Company property. Have you requested a new one from stores?”
“Look, Captain, there’s a direct Security feed in my office. Scroll back twenty minutes and you’ll see those hoods roughing me up.”
“Well, ok, if it’ll make you feel any better. Accessing security feed for your office….Scrolling back twenty minutes….How odd, there seems to have been some form of malfunction in the security feed there. I see you working away hard, then there’s a break in the recording, and then you’re gulping down a cup of water. Nothing to corroborate your wild story, I’m afraid.”
Yeah, tough life out here. Sometimes it seemed that everybody’s on the take, and the sad truth was the more useful you could be, the more you’d be worth to the bad guys. And in case you’re wondering, of course they’d come to me with money before, but I turned them down. I liked to believe I was a man with principals. But the first of those principals was to stay alive, and threatening my life was going to get them some results.
I wasn’t proud to be knuckling under to the bad guys, but until I got a new screen and some time to think there wasn’t anything else I could do. I left the office, trying to walk casually and made my way to the public lounge on the next level down There was a screen there where I could put through my request and get a new screen priority routed to my office. I didn’t look round when I heard the heavy feet falling into step behind me. It made sense that the hoods wouldn’t just threaten me and catch the next shuttle out – I might have been stupid enough to go to Security or even direct to the Station Commander. Or they might have known that I didn’t have that kind of access. There was less than no chance that I could get five minutes with the Station Commander, let alone convince him of stationwide corruption. Whatever I was going to do about this situation would have to be subtle, and subtle takes time. So I ignored the thug behind me and caught the vator down one. That caused him some trouble, as he had no choice but to squeeze in alongside me and try to act like he wasn’t following me. I avoided catching his eye, having had my fill of threats for one day.
The public screen I was aiming for had the advantage of being in the bar. The water had done nothing but wash down the wad of paper and I had a powerful need for something stronger. I rattled off the screen request at the public screen, along with a rider that would have the response patched through to the bar. Hefting the damaged screen under my arm, I grabbed the last stool at the bar, forcing my minder to take a table.
“Order?”
“Double rum.”
The barkeep didn’t comment, though his eyes flicked to the clock on the bar wall. He brought the drink over and waited just a beat too long.
“I get it, it’s early to be drinking.”
“No, just early to be drinking doubles, sir.”
“Thanks for the advice. I promise I won’t drink more than one at a time.”
He didn’t smile, but he did walk away and I took a healthy swig of the rum in celebration. My abused throat burned and my eyes watered, but the churning knot in my stomach stayed put.