Quarantine

by Pil Lee

[ Sci-fi premise by Karen: “Group of people on small ship. Xenobiologist, thief, female assassin. Smuggling alien life forms for intergalactic zoos and defying laws of quarantine and border controls.’ ]

Tandy voice cut through the bridge like a knife. “WHAT is on my shoe”.

“Crap,” winced Flynn, busying himself with the nav comm.

Paul swung around and gave her his most winning smile. “Crap it is, my dear.” He waved a Kleeno in her direction. “Wipe it off, Sweets, there’s lots more where that came from.”

Tandy hit the spare couch with all 200 kilos. Flynn winced again and nudged up the anti grav.

“I saw that,” said Tandy, wiping gingerly between her rubber treads. She flushed the cloth down the cafÈlet and poured herself a hot bulb.

“And why do we need to have animals in the cabin at all,” she asked, deliberately sloshing coffee over the floor.

Flynn huddled down further in his seat and started plotting co-ords he hadn’t even considered ten minutes ago.

Paul dropped his smile, finally sick of Tandy posturing and Flynn’s terror.

“You are being paid to do a job,” he snapped at her. “My offsider has a bladder like a hairnet but I am fed up to here with your constant complaining. Animals are our job. So animals are YOUR job. Comprende?”

“Yes well, if they’re my job, why don’t I just go and kill them, hey.” She leered at her boss. “Or you, or old hairnet. It’s getting mighty boring on this gig.”

Paul leaned as close as he could and glared into her huge, deadly green eyes. “Fuck off,” he hissed.

There was a moment’s silence and Paul wondered if perhaps he’d gone too far with one of the sector’s most expensive assassins, but she finally pulled back and gave him an appraising stare. “Hmmmm”, she said, running her tongue over her upper lip.

She got up and headed for the door. “Just stop them shitting in the corridor, hey babe? I don’t think you could even blame Flynn for that smell when we hit Quarantine.”

Paul had to agree she had a point. Flynn’s job of stealing the beasts was done, and Tandy was there to get them through the border control if things got nasty, but it was up to him to make sure the animals arrived at the Dealer safe and sound. And with Quarantine being none the wiser.

Life had been a lot easier when he was just another consulting xenobiologist, working at different zoos throughout the quadrant. But life had been a lot poorer too.

That’s when he’d surprised Flynn trying to steal five priceless Collar Hens from his current zoo to sell to another zoo on Paris Prime, no questions asked. He’d quickly realised that with his knowledge he could make more money than Flynn had ever dreamed of, and they’d been so successful over the last two years that now they had their own private yacht.

But with that success came infamy and Paul realised it was only a matter of time before Quarantine put two and two together and started to get suspicious of a well-known XenoB rich enough to never work.

Now that they’d hired Tandy to keep them alive, Paul felt a bit better, and he knew Flynn felt a whole lot better. Flynn might be a good thief but he was a lousy adventurer.

He shook his head and had just finished vacuum airing the ship and securing the animals when the proximity alerts started to sound.

He brushed past Tandy standing on guard near the main hatch and joined Flynn on the Bridge.

“What’s our status?”

“Coming up on the Quarantine Laser at Sector 509.”

“Bring us round for a sweep; keep the animal hold on the other side.”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Flynn, manouevreing them side-on to the laser.

The console sounded with the Clear signal that they always prayed for and he and Flynn let out their breath at the same time.

“Hey baby,” said Flynn stroking the console. “You are a cool machine.”

Paul righted their tangent and started the carefully confident cruise they’d mastered through the hot zone.

“What’s the upsy?” yelled Tandy through the cabin.

“We are OK to go,” yelled back Flynn gleefully.

Paul released his straps and launched over to the cafÈlet, but before he could draw a bulb the commlights lit up like a Christmas Tree.

“Oh crap,” said Flynn, going white.

“What, MORE shit!” yelled Tandy, starting to stomp down the passage between them.

Paul hit his sling again and strapped in quickly. “Tandy, get back to the hatch. Red alert. We’ve got an incoming from Q.”

Flynn stared up at him, wide eyed, as Paul reached for the relay. “You’re not going to answer them, are you,” he gasped, horrified.

“Well I can’t not,” snapped Paul. “There’s nothing Tandy can do for us if we’re bombed out of the dark.”

He flicked the switch and listened to Quarantine Control ask his identity.

“Paul de Clair,” he answered as calmly as he could. “Can I help you officers with something.”

“Routine hold check,” came the reply. “Awaiting boarding Go.”

Paul stared helplessly at Flynn then did all that he could. “Go,” he said.

He and Flynn ran back to the hold and double-checked the seals and emissions. “We must be tight,” said Flynn. “We passed the laser.”

Paul nodded his agreement as they prepared to meet the boarding party, but he had a terrible sinking feeling that they’d finally targeted him personally.

He and Tandy made eye contact and she nodded once then slowly eased back into a galley. Paul wondered briefly how such a huge woman could disappear so gracefully then focussed his attention on the AI Q-Officer entering the air lock.

The cyborg marched straight to the false door of the hold without even glancing at Paul or Flynn. It raised its laser and cut a steaming hole into the animal pen in five seconds flat. Paul felt time stop and prepared for the laser to be turned on him. His first panicked thought was a fervent prayer that Tandy was as good as all their contacts said, and his second thought was hope that the Officer would target Flynn before him.

He dropped to the ground, screwed shut his eyes and waited for the sound of gunfire, but all he heard was the loud clang of the cyborg’s metal feet on the deck grating.

He risked a quick glance and saw Tandy incapacitated where she stood by a medo-dart, and the officer about to leave the ship.

Against his better judgement he called out to it, his voice breaking slightly. “What’s happening?” he called, not being able to think of anything more intelligent to say.

“No trouble here,” was the rasping reply.

Paul’s mind reeled.

“But what about the animals,” he said, then almost doubled over in agony as Flynn’s boot caught him hard in the chest.

“No animals, just myths,” came the reply.

“Huh?” said he and Flynn simultaneously.

“Mythical creatures,” repeated the officer, still marching away. “Not a viable commodity. Myths and Old Wives Tales are to be ignored.”

It exited the air lock and they saw it air-scoot away through the porthole.

Paul and Flynn stared at each other, then turned as one to peer through the metal hole at their stinking hold full of smuggled beasts.

“What did you say they were called again?” asked Flynn.

Paul shook his head in wonder, and patted one of his retirement packages on its scaly head. “They’re dragons, Flynn, my friend, these wonderful fuckers are dragons.”