Higgs & Soap: Galaxy Delivery

Chapter 13

The docking doors closed shut and the air pumps started filling the bay with oxygen as the sleek grey single person craft powered down. Inside, the figure in the black cloak sat motionless. He hacked the station security system in seconds and noted the impound and stowaway investigation in progress on The Lucky Duck. Both a useful and worrying development at the same time. He sent a secure transmission to his boss.

"Data card stolen again. Professional job. Loss risk too high at location. Take final action to secure?"

As the "Disembark notice" flashed up on his monitor from the control centre, he got his reply.

He allowed himself a smile as he read, "Confirmed. End this."

***

"Well Mr Flim, I think our store is looking particularly fine today."

"Indeed Mr Thinsy, I concur completely. Particularly fine."

"I have to say Mr Flim, that is a nicely arranged window display of writers' desk rearrangement tools."

"Why thank you Mr Thinsy, all the better for enticing plenty of procrastinating poets into the store."

"Ha ha! Indeed. I do hope we get plenty of customers today."

"Plenty customers."

"I have to say Mr Flim, that I am most happy with our latest store location. Bang in the middle trading routes with lots of monied people willing to spend."

"You make a fine point Mr Thinsy. One might say, a Lagrange point."

"Ha ha haaa! Oh my, Mr Flim, what a card you are. You always manage to brighten the day with some hilarious witticism."

"Ah, Mr Thinsy, it appears we have a customer."

"Oh, indeed so. A delightful genetically modified cat lady by the looks of it."

"Delightful."

"Furry."

"Indeed."

"I hope she finds what she's looking for."

"She should do. All our items are arranged carefully by product type in a standard snake like fashion round the shelves."

"Excellent. Although..."

"Do continue Mr Thinsy."

"I hope she isn't expecting an alphabetical arrangement."

"I do hope not."

"In which case, she may never find what she's looking for."

"I do hope not."

"Oh wait Mr Flim, she has picked up something. She is currently turning it over in her hands. She seems to be happy with it."

"That is good news. I hope she's happy with it."

"Why wouldn't she be? All our products are top quality goods."

"Top quality goods."

"Except the ones we got off the back of that Feldian transporter for 1000 credits."

"Except those ones."

"I hope that item isn't one of those ones."

Soap walked up to the counter.

"Hey guys, I'll take this thanks."

"Ah yes Madam, the 'Grabiculator TMA-42'. This little device mimics the gravitational conditions found down the back of a sofa and, when activated, will draw any small objects towards it from within fourteen centimetres. Most handy."

"Have you lost something small Madam?"

"Well I have no problems finding it, but a friend of mine keeps losing it. Every. Time."

"A very common situation I'm afraid, Madam."

"Just when he's on top of things, 'whoop!', he's lost it again."

"A most terrible shame. Twenty four credits please Madam."

"It's the frustration that gets me the most you know? For a brief moment it's 'Yes, yes!', then all of a sudden it's 'No, no!' while he goes and hunts around for it again."

"A sadly familiar tale I'm afraid, Madam. Here is your item, with your free gift for being such a lovely customer."

"Thanks, can't wait to try it out!"

"Neither can your friend, I'm sure. Good day Madam."

"Good day Madam."

"See ya."

Soap smiled at them and left the shop.

"I hope that item wasn't one of those ones."

"If it is then we're done for, it will break in minutes or it won't function properly to begin with."

"We're done for."

"Well she's left the store now. Purchase complete. Our product is out in the wild!"

"Oh dear, there goes our reputation Mr Flim, flung out of the airlock!"

"Flung indeed."

"She will be straight onto the DataNet to give us a scathing review."

"Oh dear..."

"Then she will go to a consumer rights lawyer and sue us for selling faulty items!"

"Oh dear..."

"Our reputation, orbiting the station amongst the rings of frozen faeces!"

"Faeces Mr Thinsy!"

"Our reputation, discarded along with the doo-doo detritus!"

"Faeces Mr Thinsy!"

"A stool satellite!"

"There's no other option, we have to abandon the store. Go on the run."

"Flee to a distant planet and start up the store from scratch."

"Go on the run."

"Somewhere where nobody knows us and our utterly ruined reputation. It's the only way Mr Flim!"

"I'll pack the cases, you grab the credits."

"Oh woe is me, why do all our ventures have to end in such calamity, why?!"

"It is our curse Mr Thinsy, our curse for selling such poor quality goods that customers easily find on our superbly arranged shelving displays."

"Wait... if we were to deliberately arrange our shelving displays such that customers can't find the poor quality goods..."

"Then they shall never be disappointed with a purchase they make!"

"And our reputation will be intact."

"Oh Mr Thinsy, what a cunning plan, why didn't we think of it before?"

"Because we're fools Mr Flim, utter incompetent fools, selling junk likely to kill our own customers."

"She's going to die!"

"Oh! The guilt grabs at my throat like a Jenovian whistling crocodile."

"She's going to die!"

"But not before we make our exit and escape the authorities. Two murderers by proxy fleeing justice!"

"To the space lanes Mr Thinsy, to a life on the run, no time for delay!"

"And don't forget our chudding lingerie this time."

***

Outside the shop, Soap opened up the packet. The Grabiculator TMA-42 was a round metallic ball on the end of a folding plastic handle. Soap pointed it at a stray metal bolt lying on the ground. With a flick of a small switch, the bolt flew off the floor and stuck, upside down, to the surface of the ball.

"Works fine. Neat!"