Mitchell's Revenge

Flex McElroy left the boarding house he’d been staying in since he arrived planet side. He couldn’t afford the hotel rates in Covington, so the boarding house was the next best thing. It was cheap, clean, and close to the facilities he needed. He made his way down the street to the only bar that was open in Covington at eleven in the morning.

Flex completed his research into the IGM weeks ago. The public library gave up all its secrets. Now he filled his days with exploring the city, drinking coffee in the small coffee shops that populated the place, and trying to avoid spending too much time and money in the local bars.

He thought a lot about what he was going to do next. His meagre store of credits was declining by the day. He knew he would have to repay the money he owed the IGM one way or another. If not in cash, then in kind. He had nothing left to trade. He had no desire to join the IGM or to meet an untimely end at the hands of one of Yuri Orlov’s mercenaries.

For now, he was stuck. He couldn’t leave the Karhu system until Rufus competed in the pylon race, Flick and Bolter returned from the damage control mission on board Mitchell’s Revenge, and Grabb fulfilled his part of the bargain in rescuing Anja. His most recent crew member, Lou Pejic, was recovering in hospital after breaking her arm during the earthquake. He had a re-built and re-stocked ship with a state-of-the-art FTL drive, but no crew.

He stopped outside Regor’s Hide and debated whether or not to go in. The bar was empty of patrons. The blue skinned barman was polishing glasses behind the floating perspex bar surface at the rear of the room. The surface pulsed gently with variations of blue. The bar stools hovered in disarray in front of it, as if waiting to be occupied.

“What the hell,” thought Flex, and motioned for the clear glass door to open. He stepped through into a dim interior that pulsed with the blue light from the bar. He sat on the closest bar stool, which floated towards the barman. He turned around and smiled as Flex approached. His yellow eyes crinkled with good humour.

“Mr McElroy,” he acknowledged. “You’re early today. You look depressed.”

Flex put his hands palm down on the surface in front of him and glared at the barman. His name tag identified him as Udo.

“Thanks for reminding me,” he said. “I’m about ready to get off this damn planet. I’d rather be anywhere than here.”

“Do you want to tell me about it?” asked Udo. “We’re just the two of us alone. No one else is going to hear your story. I assure you I am discreet.”

Udo poured a glass of the local vodka and placed it in front of Flex. He downed it in one swallow. Udo refilled the glass. Flex let this one sit in front of him as he contemplated what to say. Then he downed that one too. Udo refilled it. Flex looked at him.

“You sure you won’t repeat this to anyone?”

“Absolutely,” he replied. “My reputation as a counsellor would be at stake if I did!” He grinned at Flex. Flex took a deep breath, and downed the third glass of alcohol. Udo refilled the glass again.

“That stuff’s powerful,” said Flex. He rubbed his eyes.

Before he thought better of it, Flex McElroy related the whole story of just how he came to be sitting in this particular bar on this particular day in Covington on EQ2. It was such a long story that Udo summoned a stool and sat next to Flex with the bottle of vodka on the bar between them. He poured himself a drink but did not touch it during the hour or so the story took to tell.

“I see why you are so unhappy,” said Udo. “You have a dilemma. If you don’t pay, you are sunk. And it seems that you have no way to get the money so you are sunk anyway.”

It was now after twelve and a few more customers drifted in. Udo poured Flex another drink, picked up the bottle and returned to his position behind the bar. He leaned towards Flex and grinned at him.

“Don’t look so depressed,” he said. “I’m sure you’ll think of something!” He began pouring drinks for the newcomers. When they were all served, he disappeared into the kitchen behind the bar. A short while later he returned with plates of fried seafood and crispy potato skins.

He put a plate in front of Flex. Flex picked at the crispy, salty morsels, savouring the crunch and the taste of the sea. He felt tired and old. The alcohol simply served to magnify his feelings. He was tired of running, tired of having to negotiate his way out of every situation, tired of having to find funds for his every move. He leaned his elbows on the bar top and put his head in his hands. He hadn’t realised just how tired he was until he stopped, here in Covington.

He felt relatively safe here, despite the earth tremors and the somewhat seedy characters who populated the Sagitta boarding house. When he finished his research he’d slept a lot. He found it hard to get out of bed each day without a specific focus like running the Guardian Angel. He hated to admit it but he missed his crew, especially Flick.

“Dammit,” he said quietly to no one in particular. “Pour me another one Udo.” He pushed his empty shot glass towards the barman.

As he downed the next shot he became aware of someone sliding onto the stool next to him. He turned and looked blearily at a tall, dark haired, brown eyed man. The man observed him carefully for a few moments.

“Flex McElroy?” he asked quietly. Curious, Flex nodded.

“Who the hell are you?”

The man smiled at him and put his hand forward in the universal handshake gesture. “I’m Tim Stern’s brother, Erik. I’m the financial controller at Universal Starship Enterprises.” Flex shook hands with the man who looked nothing at all like his brother.

“Sorry you’re finding me in this condition,” said Flex. “I don’t usually drink this much. Drowning my sorrows with Udo here.”

“So I heard,” said Erik.

Flex looked from Erik to the barman and back again. “Can’t go anywhere in a small town without someone finding out what you’re up to can you?” he said ruefully. “What can I do for you Erik?”

“A favour.”

Flex sat up straighter. “And why should I do a favour for you? What’s in it for me?”

“A solution to your problem.” Erik smiled at Flex. Flex frowned at him.

“And what would you know about that?”

“Quite a lot, actually,” Erik smiled at him again. “And no, you don’t want to know how I know what I know! You’ll just have to take my word for it.”

Flex shook his head and screwed up his eyes in an attempt to clear the alcohol muzziness. Udo put a large tumbler of water in front of him. Flex drank it down thirstily. The barman re-filled it. Erik waited.

“OK,” said Flex. “Tell me your solution.”

“That pilot of yours, young Rufus, is a genius,” said Erik.

“I already know that!”

“Yes, but what you don’t know is that he’s taken to pylon racing like a duck to water. Lucy is sufficiently convinced of it that she’s left him training on his own. I want to put a bet on him for the race. I think he can win.”

Flex downed another glass of water. He could feel it dissipating the alcohol already.

“So what has your wanting to put a bet on Rufus to do with me?” he asked.

“Because we’re hosting the race, I can’t be seen to be betting on any of the competitors, whether I know them or not.” Erik explained. Flex nodded his understanding.

“I want to place a very large bet,” Erik went on. “And I need someone else to do it for me.”

“You want me to place the bet,” observed Flex. “So what’s in it for me if I do?”

“A cut of the takings.”

“How much are we talking about here?”

“Five percent of seventeen million credits,” replied Erik. “If he comes into the race as a total unknown, and we place the bet before qualifying, we stand to make a lot of money.”

Flex stared at Erik. He didn’t need to think about it at all. “I’ll do it. Now tell me how we’re going to set it up.”