"Yes, you look fine," said Jolo, as another shiny boat jumped out.
"Remember," Katy said. "Usually, trash haulers have one captain and no crew. So when they scan us I'm gonna say you're a ride along on a training run."
"Got it. Don't worry." Jolo opened the hatch that led to the refuse cargo hold. A horrible stench rose out of the hole. "You boys all right down there?" said Jolo.
Twenty feet down at the bottom of the hold a tall muscular waiter, and a thinner one-armed waiter, stood at the bottom, staring up at Jolo. George was unfazed by the odor, but Greeley had a sour look on his face. He was using a breather, but it didn't seem to matter. He pulled the breather away from his face. "Just get me out of here as soon as possible," he whispered. His voice echoed into the cockpit. Katy leaned down and told them all to be quiet.
Two Federation gunboats were waiting the moment they jumped into Iris. Katy didn't have to hail them, they were on the comm immediately.
"Refuse hauler C43 this is Federation gunboat Fitzgerald, what are your key codes for this run?"
Katy had taped the keycode document to the small port screen. She rattled off a 16 digit alphanumeric code and the gunboat captain told her to wait.
So they sat there quietly. Jolo could see the giant ship in the background, shiny and regal, blotting out all else. He watched Katy out of the corner of his eye. She was fidgety and nervous, tapping her hand on her thigh. He reached out, put his hand over hers.
"You're doing fine. You look great," he said.
Just then the gunboat came back on the comm. "Okay C43, you’re clear. Make it snappy. We got dignitaries coming."
Katy flashed a quick glance at Jolo. “Ask them who’s coming?” he said.
“Who’s coming?”
“Just take out the trash, C43. I see you have a ride-along. Fed guidelines state all passengers must be signed in at ops on level V.”
“Yessir,” Katy said, “he’s in training.” She let out a deep breath, then headed to the bottom of the giant ship, expertly docking to the Corsair.
When docked, the nose of the hauler was level with the ground floor of level V so Jolo could see the man in the control room through the port screen. “Ya’ll got some coffee in there?” Jolo said. The man held up his cup and waved for him to come. So Jolo climbed out of the boat and headed to ops.
He strolled into the tiny room, two older Fed employees manning the control board, and poured himself a cup. He sat down in a chair, leaned back and took a long sip, all the while eyeing the comm button on the board. It was green.
“You must be new, huh?” said the man with the coffee cup. “I’m supposed to sign you in all official.”
“Yep,” said Jolo. “First and last run.” Then he stood up, took a final swig of the coffee, pulled out his gun and put it to the closest man’s head, then turned off the comm. “Either of you touch anything on the board and I’ll kill, uh…” Jolo leaned over to check the patch on the man’s light brown coverall. Kwditzercdhiekcik. “I’ll kill Kwa—, uh, Kwud—, uh…” Jolo looked at the other man’s patch: Smith. He pointed the gun at Smith. “I’ll kill Smith.”
By the time Katy walked in Jolo had Smith and Kwditzercdhiekcik tied up and sitting in a corner. Just then Greeley and George strolled in.
"You boys ready to party?" said Jolo.
"Don't ever hole me up in a giant toilet bowl again," said Greeley.
“I suppose you won’t be making a return trip, then?” said George, patting Greeley on the back.
Jolo looked at the computer screen and checked the days’ activities. "There's going to be a luncheon in the art gallery on level IV at 11:15," said Jolo, pointing to the activity list on the port screen. That's your window. "The kitchen is on level I. So I’d go there first because they'll be carrying food up to level IV."
Greeley smiled and patted the inside of his jacket. He had a small arsenal of gas grenades and specially designed explosives made to sound big and create smoke but to do as little structural damage as possible. The shiny end of Betsy, his sawed-off shotgun, poked out under his jacket, but he held his arm down at his side to cover it up.
"We’re fine," said George. "Good luck with the drive."
“What about the dignitaries’?” said Katy.
George tilted his head and Greeley stopped fondling the handle of the shotgun. “Who’s comin’?” said Greeley.
“Don’t know. Stick to the plan,” said Jolo.
Greeley turned to the two men on the floor. “Who’s comin’?” They both shrugged. Greeley pulled Betsy out and rubbed the short barrel end along Smith’s face. “Captain, they holdin’ back. Supposin’ I make an example so’s the other’n’ll spill it.”
“Sure, go ahead,” said Jolo, watching the two mens’ reaction carefully. Greeley’s eyes lit up and the two ops workers started talking, but neither knew anything. Jolo held his hand up and Greeley backed off. Trash haulers and level V ops don’t get no info. Though one thing Smith said stuck with Jolo: a marine team had come through thirty minutes earlier and done a security sweep.
“This don’t feel right, Jolo,” said Katy. She looked at George for support.
“He don’t have hunches and such,” said Greeley.
“No, you insufferable human, I weigh the odds based on current data,” said George.
“So what do you think?” said Katy.
“Not enough data,” said George.
“We stick to the plan,” said Jolo. And that ended it. "All we need to do is get the drive, only
