Loss Leader Read online

  'An old car, in a crate. Winters, he is opening other equipment. We have the old machines for washing, fridges. It is junk, this.'

  'Have you gone mad?' demanded Roth. 'What the hell are you on about?'

  They heard Winters yelling over the sound of splintering wood. 'You lousy pricks!' he screamed. Loud crash. 'I'll give you colony equipment!' Breaking glass.

  Roth jumped up and ran for the door. Erin caught him up in the hallway. 'I don't know what that idiot was on about,' he panted, as they ran along the fresh, blue carpet. 'But it sounds like Winters has flipped.'

  The equipment bay doors were open, revealing stacks of wooden crates that reached the roof, ten meters above. Roth ran through, ducking around a battered forklift chained to the floor, and headed for the banging sounds that echoed around the hold.

  Erin stopped to examine the shattered glass around the door's over-ride. She heard footsteps and looked up. Anton stopped before her, face grave.

  'What's this?' she demanded, pointing at the glass.

  Anton shook his head. 'That, it is not important.' He grabbed her hand and dragged her past the forklift and between stacks of crates. 'This, this is important.'

  The narrow passage opened out near the rear of the hold. There were splintered planks all over the floor, and several crates had gaping holes. She saw Winters swinging a fire axe at the side of a large crate, saw Roth slam into him, saw both men go down in a rolling tangle of arms and legs.

  'No!' yelled Anton. 'Stop!'

  Roth got on top and dragged Winters' hands behind his back. The older man lay on his side, his face crumpled. Erin felt disgust and pity as she saw tears running freely down his cheeks.

  'What the hell's going on?' she demanded, in the sudden quiet.

  Anton gestured towards a crate. 'See for yourself,' he said.

  Erin strode to the splintered hole and looked in. She gasped as she saw the dented, rusting vehicle inside. A hand-written label pasted to the crate read 'Tractor C'.

  'The rest, it is junk also,' said Anton.

  Erin shivered. 'What have they done to us?'

  'This could explain the food,' said Roth. He stood up and offered his hand to Winters. The scientist ignored it.

  'What about the food?' asked Anton.

  Roth snorted. 'There isn't any.'

  'Merde.' Anton glanced at a length of splintered wood on the floor. 'We must turn the ship. Someone will die for this.'

  'I'd like to get my hands around his neck and ...' Roth gritted his teeth.

  Erin shook her head. 'Long dead, by the time we got back. Anyway, we can't change course.'

  'I can hack the computer.'

  They all stared at Winters. The scientist was sitting up, his head in his hands.

  'What?' said Erin, softly.

  'I can crack the thing. My specialty.'

  'Well thanks for all the help with the colonist's database ...' began Roth. Erin silenced him with a glance.

  'Why didn't you say something?' she asked Winters.

  He shrugged.

  'Right, let's go.'

  Ten minutes later they were in the flight deck, Winters at the keyboard and the others peering over his shoulder. The scientist's fingers darted over the keys, calling up system reports and data which scrolled past faster than anyone could read it.

  Winters pursed his lips. 'The computer was right. They've hard-coded the course into the operating system.'

  Erin looked down at his tangled mop of black hair. 'What does that mean?'

  'It means we can't alter it.'

  Roth snorted. 'We already knew that. I thought you could fix it?'

  Winters shook his head. 'The data could be anywhere in the code. It's encrypted, too.'

  'What about the colonist database?' asked Erin.

  Winters typed a few commands, then examined the screen closely. 'Give me half an hour. And for God's sake, stop breathing down my neck.'

  Erin pulled Roth and Anton away. 'Kitchen,' she said.

  The galley was cramped, with barely enough room to sit between table and wall. Erin sat first, then glanced at the others. 'Let's go over this,' she began.

  'We've been screwed. End of story,' said Roth.

  Erin frowned at him. 'If I need smart comments, I'll ask the computer. Now sit down, shut up and listen.'

  Roth flushed, then plonked himself down on the narrow bench. He moved along so Anton could sit beside him. They leant forwards, elbows on the table like a pair of eager students. Erin almost laughed. 'One,' she said, holding up a finger. 'The people contracted to put the supplies on board figured they could switch the stuff with junk and pocket the money.'

  Anton stared at her, his face pale.

  'Two,' Erin held up a second finger. 'We go higher up. The people running this show loaded the ship with junk, shoved the colonists aboard and fired us off, knowing we'll never be heard from anyway.'

  'Ahh, that is impossible,' said Anton. 'The training, the colonists. It is betrayal, that!'

  'Reid Corp staked their future on these ships. We know the first half a dozen will drain them, cost them a fortune. They were open about that. But when the construction is automated and people are paying for their places ...'

  Roth nodded. 'So, they cut their costs on the first ships.' Suddenly he stared across the plastic table, face deathly white. 'I just had the most horrible thought,' he said slowly.

  'What?'

  'Well, if your second theory is correct, would they want us to arrive at our destination?'

  Erin frowned. 'What?'

  'Look, we get there, right? We ship all the crates down in the landers and open them. Junk. We've got a thousand colonists in orbit, and nowhere to put them. What if we managed to get the ship back to Earth, turned up like an ex boyfriend at a wedding? Don't you think they'd want to safeguard against that?'

  'Perhaps they believe it's too far in the future to worry about.'

  'We're talking about a company established two centuries ago, not an individual,' said Roth. 'If this ship vanished en-route, who would know about it?'

  'Roth, there are a thousand people aboard. They couldn't do it, too many people would have to be involved and if one of them blew the whistle, the Reid people would be burnt at the stake.'

  'It is true, this,' said Anton. 'Me, I think the arsehole supply companies did the switch.'

  A hidden speaker crackled, and they looked up. 'Yes?' called Erin.

  There was a long silence before Winters' voice came over the commset. 'There's nothing I can do,' he said. 'Locked up tighter than a chastity belt.'

  'That is not so secure,' muttered Anton.

  'Move over,' said Roth, pushing the Frenchman along the bench.

  'Where are you going?'

  'Into the colonists' area.'

  'It's sealed!'

  Roth shook his head. 'Not for long.'

  ***

  'Roth, no!' Erin's voice was drowned by the roar of the forklift. She stepped back, choking, as a cloud of diesel fumes enveloped her.

  The tyres skidded on the carpet before gripping and launching the vehicle forward. There was a jarring crash as Roth drove the forks into the red painted doors. They buckled, but held, and he jerked the stick back and reversed for another go.

  'Roth,' yelled Erin, as she saw him lean forward and grip the wheel. The engine coughed, then roared again, pushing the heavy machine towards the door. There was a sickening crunch as the metal forks pushed the door in, and Roth killed the engine and jumped down.

  As the echoes died away Erin, Anton and Winters stepped through the buckled doorway and peered into the darkness.

  'Computer, turn the lights on,' demanded Roth. There was a flicker at the far end of the chamber, and then the tubes began to light up, flowing towards them like an electronic wave. As each light came on, it illuminated heavy racking stacked with cryo-pods. There were a dozen rows, the door being opposite the middle two.

  Roth strode across to the end of the nearest rack and bent down
to peer into the cryo-pod. He reached for the catches and Erin's heart skipped a beat.

  'No!' she yelled. 'You can't ...'

  Roth ignored her, undid the catches and hauled the lid up. 'Empty,' he said. He stood up and glanced into the next tank. 'Empty.'

  The others ran to the racks, stared through one heavy perspex lid after another.

  'All empty!' moaned Winters.

  'Wait!' Erin held up her hands. 'The interviewer. He said half the colonists refused to come. We'll have to check all the tanks. Take three rows each.'

  They split up, and for ten minutes their hurried footsteps echoed around the cavernous hold. Then they gathered near the entrance.

  'Why?' asked Roth, gesturing at the cryo-pods. There was a long silence as each of the four crew members tried to come to terms with the sudden revelation.

  Finally, Erin broke the silence. 'The only reason I can see ...' she began.

  'Oh, it's so obvious,' cried Winters. 'The ship's running late, the colonists are having second thoughts and the company's stock is plummeting. How can they turn it around, get the media on-side? By sending the ship as if nothing has happened. No need to fill it with expensive equipment, of course. Just pack the crates full of junk, seal up the ship and send it off.'

  Anton frowned. 'This, it does not make sense.'

  'Sure it does. The first three ships were loss-leaders anyway.'

  'Loss leader?' Anton looked puzzled.

  'When they advertise goods below cost to get people into the store,' said Roth tersely. 'Go on, Winters.'

  'Right. Since the first ship departs without a hitch, it becomes easier to sign up colonists for the next. People prefer to follow, you see.'

  'Like lemmings,' muttered Roth.

  'Quite. Well, as Reid Corp. aren't charging the colonists, it makes no difference whether they go or not.'

  'But surely the ones that stayed back would talk?' asked Erin. 'They'd have told everyone they knew they were leaving.'

  'Yes, but at every stage of the selection process the colonists would have been told that others were waiting to take their place, should they choose not to go. Perhaps they even offered the defaulters a new life on another continent.'

  'But without any colonists aboard, why aim the Glory at a habitable planet?' cried Roth. 'They may just as well have pointed us at empty space!'

  There was a shocked silence before Winters spoke again. 'Let's go and find out,' he said grimly.

  ***

  'There's our course,' said Winters, tapping the flat screen with a pen. The others crowded round, staring at the three columns of numbers. 'It's programmed to take us to the first planet.'

  There was a collective sigh of relief.

  'Don't get too excited. There are no commands to stop us on arrival.'

  'What?'

  'It's going to be a very brief stay.'

  Anton frowned. 'Perhaps the second planet?' he murmured.

  Winters shook his head. 'Wrong direction. Face it: we've been sacrificed. If Erin's pod hadn't malfunctioned we'd have been sleeping centuries from now, with the ship falling apart around us.'

  'We can turn this to our advantage,' said Roth. 'We're all fit, we can use the cryo-pods overnight to feed ourselves, we just have to find a way to reverse our course.'

  'How about activating the comms channels?' asked Anton. 'Perhaps to send a warning?'

  Winters snorted. 'We're configured for deep space. The dish is behind the ablative shield.'

  'Couldn't we raise it, tell them what's happened?'

  'Look, we're light years out right now. Even if we could get the dish up it would be years before they got the signal, and there's no guarantee anyone would be listening.'

  'Do it anyway,' said Erin.

  'The dish will be destroyed.'

  'So what? We won't be needing it.' A thought occurred to her. 'What about fuel?'

  Winters examined the screen, frowning as he paged through displays, one after another, faster and faster. Finally he stopped, letting his hands fall into his lap. 'I suppose it won't come as a huge surprise if I tell you there isn't any,' he said, his voice barely audibly above the background hum.

  Erin glanced at him. 'How much did they put in?' she asked sharply.

  Winters checked the screen. 'Enough to fire us away from Earth.'

  'Back-stabbing, penny-pinching, money-grubbing ...' Roth's voice trailed off as Erin gripped his elbow. 'What?'

  'Get the communications array up, now!'

  Roth moved over to the comms panel and worked on the controls for a moment or two. Suddenly a red light began to flash.

  'Point of no return,' called Roth over his shoulder. 'If I proceed, we'll destroy the dish.'

  'Do it.'

  'Are you--'

  'In command? Yes.'

  Roth shrugged and pressed the button. 'Ok, what now?'

  'Can you pick up omni-directional signals?'

  'Yes.'

  'Computer, scan all frequencies.'

  'Complying.'

  Suddenly there was a burst of static from the speakers, followed by a barely audible voice.

  'Amplify!' shouted Erin.

  ' ... requesting clearance, pad seven.'

  'Clearance granted, Eagle Six. Have a good trip.'

  'Will do, ground. Eagle Six out.'

  Anton and Winters gaped at the speakers, their mouths open.

  'What the ...' began Roth.

  'The engines were supposed to burn for the first ten years, on and off. They must have shut down after a couple of months,' said Erin. 'We only had enough fuel to get us out of the solar system. We're barely moving.'

  'You mean we've been drifting for thirty years?' Winters was incredulous.

  'Our course was out of the orbital plane, remember? Two revolutions of the Sun then straight up. Unless they sent another ship out this way, who the hell would find us?'

  Roth stared down at the commset. 'What shall I say?'

  'Advise them to dump their Reid Corp shares,' said Erin grimly.

  About the Author

  Simon Haynes was born in England and grew up in Spain, where he enjoyed an amazing childhood of camping, motorbikes, air rifles and paper planes. His family moved to Australia when he was 16.

  Simon divides his time between writing fiction and computer software, with frequent bike rides to blow away the cobwebs.

  His goal is to write fifteen Hal books (Spacejock OR Junior!) before someone takes his keyboard away.

  Simon's website is www.spacejock.com.au

  ***

  Don't miss the Hal Spacejock series!

  1. Hal Spacejock

  2. Hal Spacejock: Second Course

  3. Hal Spacejock: Just Desserts

  4. Hal Spacejock: No Free Lunch

  5. Hal Spacejock: Baker's Dough

  6. Hal Spacejock: Safe Art

  Hal Spacejock: Framed (Short Story)

  Hal Spacejock: Visit (Short Story)

  www.spacejock.com.au

  Simon Haynes also writes the

  Hal Junior series for children

  1. Hal Junior: The Secret Signal

  2. Hal Junior: The Missing Case

  3. Hal Junior: The Gyris Mission

  www.haljunior.com