5. Agatha Dwiddle
The arrival of a second Earth shuttle at Agatha Dwiddle's compound changed the equation substantially. Dice knew he could no longer walk in the front door with a smile. Why? Because Dice Quaid had long ago deserted from the second Earth military. Desertion carried one sentence: death, usually preceded by a short but showy trial.
Therefore, instead of marching right up to the front door bell and giving it a ring, Dice maneuvered down from the foothills and along the outer wall of the Dwiddle compound. As he moved, he could hear the sound of the shuttle first stopping then taxing toward the set of buildings.
Dice noted that the compound had obviously survived a fair number of Blue attacks; aging carcasses of flying Man-Eaters and even a few Tank Beetle shells lay strewn around the wastes outside of the walls. This did not surprise Dice, for he had just seen that big guy with the bandaged face actually punch a Blue in the mouth. No doubt the people of Dwiddle's compound survived thanks in one part to their grit and…and what else?
The shuttle, Dicey-boy. These folks are getting supplied by 2nd Earth.
That revelation came as a great surprise because the people of 2nd Earth considered all those left behind on the blue-infested globe to be 'already dead.' That made for a rather easy excuse to not supply, save, or other wise aid the 'groundlings' left behind.
A part of Dice knew he should simply walk in the other direction. He should forget about doing the 'noble' thing in trying to free Elena from Vladimir; he should forget about convincing Agatha Dwiddle to hand over corn seed to those scavengers.
Dice, be honest with yourself, the real plan is to steal it.
He pounded a fist into his head. Sometimes he could be such a pain in his own ass.
He walked along outside of the six-foot wall, occasionally moving or hopping over dead blue bodies. However, Dice stopped when he came to the body of yet another blasted tank beetle. The big, cumbersome monster had been felled—apparently—by a cannon shot to the noggin'. Dice considered it his good fortune that the shell of the dead monster had not yet crumbled away into little bits.
He slid that shell closer to the wall, stood on it, and jumped up. Dice—already a big man—needed no help to scale a measly six-foot wall but the extra leverage made things a little easier and if Dice wanted one thing in his life, it was for things to get a little easier.
Quaid hauled himself over and dropped into the compound behind a pallet of sandbags. Well, they were something like sandbags. He did not know what they were. Maybe flour?
Anyway, the grounds were cluttered enough that he had little trouble slinking across the area, behind the house, and over to the far side. On that far side the six-foot wall gave way to an open, fenced-in area; a kind of dock complete with a couple of forklifts, more packages of that flour or whatever, fuel drums, crates, and more. Just beyond that dock area waited the second-Earth shuttle, its loading bays wide open. But instead of loading items onto the shuttle, two soldiers unloaded packages from the shuttle, moving the stuff via carts from the ship's cargo hold to the dock area.
Dice stopped his slinking and observed form behind a big water tank. The bandaged guy who had punched the blue stood near the open fence of the gate observing the movement of supplies from the ship to the compound. Across from him stood a man that Dice did not recognize but he did recognize the uniform.
The Second Earth officer sported sharply-sculpted side burns, little beady eyes, thin hair, and stood maybe five-five at best. His soldiers hurried to unload whatever goods he had brought from Earth.
Dice darted from the water cooler to stack of crates marked 'animal feed'. The move put him a few yards closer to the action.
It also put him closer to the supply area and the shuttle. He could smell the lingering fumes of rocket fuel drifting from the ship's baffles, the acrid scent of chemicals coming from unloaded cargo, and a comforting aroma of fresh-baked brownies.
Huh? Brownies?Dice's attention perked.
"Oh, now hello there Captain Koal, sweetie."
The grandmotherly voice came from an equally grandmotherly-looking woman who approached the Second Earth officer wearing a flowery dress protected by a white apron with the words 'Kiss the Cook' stenciled on its front. Her hands—adorned in heavy baking mittens—carried a big pan. The aroma of chocolate goodies came from there.
Captain Koal replied in a voice that sounded far too harsh to use in addressing such a sweet old lady.
"I did not come here for brownies. You have your goods, where are mine?"
Dice got mad just hearing the fellow speak in such a tone.
"Oh, now, Captain Koal I baked this pan fresh just for you and your men. You can't tell me you get walnut chocolate chip brownies up there on that big ugly space station of yours."
The little man with the beady eyes sneered at the pan but the two soldiers who had been unloading the shipment hustled over and quickly helped themselves to squares of fresh-baked goodness.
"Thank you, Mrs., Dwiddle," they said in unison as if addressing their first grade teacher.
"Oh, now that wasn't a bother at all."
"Business. We have business to attend to."
The grandmother had had enough of Captain Koal's badgering.
"Take a god damn brownie you little fu# weasel or I'll have Roc here shove it so far up your ass you'll think it's an enema!"
Dice's ears burned.
The huge fellow with the bandages took a step forward. Apparently, he went by the name of Roc.
Captain Koal's arm shot out and grabbed a brownie.
Agatha's grandmotherly smile returned and she waited with great anticipation for reaction as the officer chewed the delightful morsel.
He spoke through a full and contrite mouth, "mmm…yes… very…mmm…tasty."
"Now, deary, did we get everything?"
One of the soldiers handed a clipboard to Agatha but only after she handed off her goods to Roc. The man whose face was covered in bandages like a mummy and who had cannoned then punched hordes of blue less than an hour before stood silently with a pan of brownies in his hands.
Agatha placed her oven mittens on a nearby box and read from the clipboard in a soft, soothing tone.
"Let's see here…hmmm…forty-seven gallons of multi-purpose fuel…one case of vitamin supplements so we have healthy bones…oh my heavens you managed to get a hold of some synthetic sugar, that will make my peach cobbler so much better…twelve cases of artificial fruits and vegetables…oh, Roc, look, Captain Koal sent along more anti-fungal powder for that nasty itch of yours…"
Roc grunted. It may have been a thank you.
"…three cases of medical supplies…two Pentium 9 computers—my daughter will love those, by the way--a drum of cooking oil…two cases of machine gun bullets…one case fragmentation grenades…one drum of viral anti-toxins…one pallet of heavy cannon shells…and an armor shrike replenishment kit. Oh, yes, and one case of artificial yeast because Captain Koal knows that while the secret ingredient in my banana bread is love, it takes yeast to make it rise in the oven."
Agatha returned the clipboard to the soldier and leaned over and gave Captain Koal a kiss on the cheek.
He did not seem amused.
"Okay, now, what about my stuff?"
"My, oh my, we're always in such a hurry, aren't we?"
Koal reminded, "I don't really have authorization for this flight, Agatha. If I don't get back soon my friends in flight control won't be able to cover my tracks."
Agatha still smiled.
"Oh, now, honey, don't you fret. If your friends in flight control want to take off on their favorite ride, they'll just have to cover your tracks a few minutes longer. I've got two pallets of their own personal rocket fuel for you."
Koal grew agitated.
"Two pallets? That's it? That's barely a month's supply!"
She growled, "Don't you raise your voice to me you snot-nosed puke. A bunch of Vladimir's thugs burned down one of my warehouses last week. Maybe you should drop a thermonuclear bomb on his little ranch and end my fu&#$ problems with that asshole."
Koal grew balls: "Or maybe I should deal with Vladimir again."
Agatha did not spew expletives but, rather, grew contrite herself.
"Oh, now, sweetie, why would you even talk like that? You know Vladimir's people haven't been delivering his poppies on time. His production operation is running by a hair. No, sonny, you stick with old Agatha here. I'll take care of you."
Dice heard the sound of approaching footsteps. After a moment, a young redheaded girl wearing a white lab coat joined the group. She could not have been any older than a teenager but she wore her hair in a tight bun and sported wire-rimmed glasses. Dice did not have to quiz her to know that girl was smart.
"Here you go grandmother."
"Oh, thank you, Sheena."
The men—all of them except Roc—eyed Sheena with dreadful leers as she handed a small container—about the size of a jewelry box—to Agatha Dwiddle.
Agatha, in turn, handed the box to Captain Koal who, judging by the corkscrew in his expression, did not expect it.
The older woman explained, "This is something special, deary. Take a look…go ahead, don't be shy."
Koal cautiously opened the heavy lid of the box. Dice realized that the case was made of heavy steel with the crisscrossing blades of a 'biohazard' symbol painted on the lid.
From his vantage point, Dice spied a series of holders in that case, but could not see much more.
"What is this?"
Dice noticed the red head girl fidget. She was nervous or uncomfortable or something.
"This, sweetie, is the future. I call it Super 2."
"Super 2?"
Koal pulled a small vial from the container, held it up at the sun, and peered at the green/blue powder inside.
Agatha recaptured the officer's attention as she waved at the shuttle's cargo bay where the two pallets of contraband had been stowed.
"That vial you're holding, sonny, is more valuable than a dozen pallets of 'new heroine.'"
Koal repeated his question with an annoyed edge, "What is it?"
"Synthetic heroine," Agatha informed with a devious growl in her voice. She then waved a dismissive hand and explained, "Oh, now, my daughter here probably can give you a whole lecture on the ingredients of this little heart throb. But, Captain, when you boil it all down you got yourself a super-potent kernel of a drug that doesn't need farms, mules, or anything more than a little processing."
Koal's face corkscrewed in confusion again.
Agatha snapped, "Listen you knucklehead, you're holding a gold mine in your hands. You ain't gunna get anything like this from Vladimir. He's still living in the Stone Age."
"Grand mother…" the red head sounded as if she had something to say.
"Hold your skirt on, honey. Now, where was I? Oh yes, Captain, forget all these heavy bags and say goodbye to weeks of cultivating and then muling poppies down from the mountains. Yes, that's right, sonny, I can do it all in the lab. And all you have to take back is a couple of vials and step on it like squishing worms and you got yourself an easy supply of one potent little hottie."
Koal started to get the picture.
"So…I take a couple of these back home instead of a ton of product, thin it out and we make the same money with less cost and risk? That right?"
Agatha turned to Roc.
"And you said he was dumb."
Koal countered, "What's wrong, Agatha, having trouble with your organization? Transportation problems? People problems?"
Agatha smiled.
"Oh, well honey, with people come a lot of problems. Like feeding them and giving them stuff to live. And, of course, the blue have been somewhat active lately. I like to think of this as cutting costs and improving the product. Kind of like…kind of like baking a better brownie."
Agatha reached over and took two more of the fresh-baked delights from the pan Roc held. She handed one each to the soldiers flanking Koal. They ate them greedily but not until after nodding a polite 'thank you.'
Koal asked, "How do I know this will do what you say it'll do?"
"Oh, deary, I wouldn't expect you to trust little old me. Consider that one a sample. Take it back to your labs up in those big ugly space stations of yours and check it out."
Koal returned the vial to the case. Before he could close the lid, the red headed girl—Sheena—stepped forward.
"Wait. Captain Koal, look at this."
Much to Agatha Dwiddle's annoyance, her grand daughter offered the officer another vial full of yellow pellets.
"Huh? What's this now?"
Sheena explained fast before her grandmother could interrupt.
"It's a genetically-enhanced corn seed. You can grow crops in just about anything and it might help with the food situation there because it's helped some people down here."
Koal held a hand up to slow the girl's enthusiastic explanation.
Dice listened even closer.
Agatha sighed and said, "Go ahead, Captain, indulge my grand daughter. Take it to your lab and see if it is worth anything to the people of Second Earth. If it is, I can have Sheena make more. As it is, that's our last vial unless I find some profit in it."
Koal asked, "Um…why'd you make it in the first place?"
"To feed the people who harvested the poppies for my grand mother," Sheena spat.
"But I don't need them now, not with this new designer drug," Agatha explained in a tone that suggested they move on to a new subject.
"Now you run along, Sheena. Get back to your lab and start…well…start working on something useful."
The grandmother shooed her grand daughter away. Sheena slung her head and moped off.
Koal took the pause to slip the corn seed vial and the drug vial back into the case. He handed the case to one of his soldiers who was forced to stuff the better half a brownie into his mouth in order to make his hands free for carrying.
The soldier walked off toward the shuttle. Dice eyed the guy—and the case—as he moved.
"Now, Captain, I have a few other things I'd like to go over…"
The conversation faded away in Dice's ears. He did not need to hear anymore. The scavengers who had sent him on this mission were, in fact, drug runners. Still, they were drug runners who had relied on Agatha Dwiddle for sustenance in exchange for muling her product from the mountains to her labs en route for sale to the addicts on Second Earth.
Drugs, Dice remembered from his life in those space stations, were always in the background. The boredom of life on the space stations—punctuated by missions of terror to the Blue-occupied earth—needed to be broken. Sex served as the number one pass time but all sorts of indulgences and over indulgences were available, most illegally but some with tacit approval from the council (probably as a means of keeping the populace from getting too restless).
Moral considerations aside, Dice wanted that vial of corn seed. He did not care about drug runners or poppies or the crooked Captain Koal running contraband to the space stations. He wanted that corn seed so he could get the power cells and free Elena and get a tank of gas so he could move on with his life.
He watched the soldier with the case disappear into the darkness of the shuttle's massive cargo hold. While Koal and Dwiddle talked, Dice darted from hiding spot to hiding spot until he managed to slip up the ramp and into the shuttle's rear compartment (as large as a small warehouse).
That cargo area, despite having unloaded so many supplies, remained well-stocked with both the two pallets of drugs as well as a plenty of other questionable items probably picked up by Koal on his way to various stops. Dice wondered who would face more trouble in front of the council—himself for deserting or Koal for smuggling.
Regardless, Dice moved through the cargo area following the sound of the soldier's footsteps.
Dice stood behind a big rectangular box and spotted the soldier. The man fumbled with some straps along the cargo bay wall trying to find a means of securing the storage box.
Now this will be easy. One guy. I nice bump on his noggin and I take the box.
Dice, a plan in mind, took a step forward.
"Hey, what are you doing?"
The new voice came from a second soldier who moved into the cargo hold from the front of the ship. Dice moved into the shadows again.
"I'm trying to strap this box in, man."
Dice eyed the men as they worked to try to secure the container. Both had only side arms.
Okay, Dicey boy, we can do this. One knock on the head, then another knock on the head, and off I go.
Dice took a deep breath, put on his game face, and stepped forward to—
"Guys, what the hell?"
A third soldier entered the hold, this one carrying an assault rifle.
Dice retreated once again.
"We're trying to strap this box in."
"No, no, Cap wants that up front with him, not back here. C'mon."
The three soldiers and the box containing both the designer drug and the designer corn disappeared out of the cargo bay and into the main compartment of the shuttle. They closed a heavy bulkhead door behind them.
"Oh, now, that just screws the pooch," Dice whispered to himself. "Now, is there anything else that can go wrong here?"
CLANG.
The cargo hold went dark as the rear doors shut. Small red emergency lights offered some illumination.
Before Dice could get his bearings, the shuttle lurched forward. He stumbled one way, then the other.
"What? Oh boy, we're taxiing."
Dice glanced about the area as if searching for answers but his rational mind had already come to one inescapable conclusion. A conclusion the rest of him refused to accept until he heard the shuttle's landing clear clamp onto the launch ramp's guide rails.
I'm going to Second Earth.
Oh shit.
Dice realized at that moment that he was not wearing a space suit or strapped into a harness. Odds were good that the cargo bay would remain pressurized, but the g-force at lift off might just crush his body.
He heard power build.
Dice's eyes darted from side to side searching…
The shuttle shuddered.
Dice saw what he needed. A set of unused cargo cables along one wall above a well-secured crate. Dice hurried to that spot, pulled the yellow and red harness tight over his shoulders and reached for the latch…
The shuttle rocked. The engines fired.
Dice stopped securing himself as something caught his attention.
He stood and darted over to a stack of supplies from which he grabbed a small carton, pulling it free from bungie straps holding it in place.
The shuttle's engines roared…
Dice hopped on top of the crate, pulled the straps over his shoulders, and found the buckle just as the shuttle raced forward. The g-forced strained everything onboard the ship including barrels and pallets and boxes and Dice Quaid, but the cargo straps held him in place…barely.
The nose cone angled up the ramp as the shuttle veered toward the sky.
Dice fought the power of the ship's acceleration to move one hand to the carton on his lap. He struggled to rip open the end…pulled out a cigarette from the carton and, with much difficulty, slipped it between his lips.
The shuttle blasted into the blue sky, through the clouds, and into the blackness of space.
Crap. Out of matches…