New Recruits excerpt "What the hell it is you do?"

Here is an excerpt from Dr. Wallo: New Recruits. To get both Dr. Wallo short stories, New Recruits and Top Men, buy them here or order the print version of Dr Wallo: Designation 8.

 Floyd had followed Neal much farther into the café terminal of the spaceport. He began to realize how large the spaceport was as the view over walkway rails made him dizzy. Giant voids of space that must have been thirty-floor drop-offs came from nowhere. Even though Floyd could make out the transpernets that must have been set every three to four floors, he was still nauseated. Neal’s pace didn’t help much. He wasn’t rushing, yet his stride was tough to keep up with as he darted through the crowd in what felt like random directions.

 The ceiling offered an epic view of space, full of stars and enormous ships floating, zooming, and in some cases, careening by. Eventually Floyd found himself watching Neal and nothing else. He hoped this wouldn’t go on for long.

 “No, this is it,” Neal said as he raced towards another restaurant.

 Floyd had heard this several times already; however, this time Neal didn’t stop at the door. They made it all the way in and Floyd exhaled deeply. It was as if he had been holding his breath. Either Floyd’s relief came from the nice slow jazz music playing at just the right volume, or from the fact, he was no longer ready to vomit at the dizzying heights of the spaceport’s walkways. The joint was dim and windowless. Floyd moved to a nice, quiet, out of the way table and plopped down. His exhaustion felt new, but thinking back, he knew he earned it. He had gone from thinking he was going to be arrested to thinking he was kidnapped, back to thinking he would be arrested, to being led through a terrifying maze of high platforms. He watched Neal walk to the bar to order and wondered if he could trust him.

 Neal had placed an order but came to the table with only two drinks. “Ever had a flop burger?” he asked as he set a drink in front of Floyd.

 Floyd knew he wouldn’t be able to eat, but would certainly try the drink. “Can’t say as I have. Do I want to know what it’s made of?” He took a sip of the drink.

 “Flops, I guess. Never asked. They’re damn good though.” Neal sipped his drink and looked around the restaurant.

 “Great. Want to tell me what the hell it is you do?” Floyd set his drink down and set his bag in the chair beside him.

 “Huh?” Neal turned to Floyd. “Oh yeah, I’m a fixer.” He took a bigger swig from his drink.

 “Right, like a fixer of spaceships or lifters or what?” Floyd asked, simultaneously realizing his drink was much stronger than he thought. He reached for it again.

 “Ha, no. I wish. I fix planets, governments, people and stuff.”

 “You mean like a doctor?”

 “Well, that’s the position before fixer, but I technically skipped it and went straight to fixer after my first mission.” Neal’s face contorted with frustration, as if he had been insulted. “I’ve been one for a while now.” He looked at Floyd contemptuously. “It is not as close to your line of work as the name may suggest.”

 “Wait, so are you going to take me to an interview or are you the guy who does the hiring?” Floyd looked at his glass and he was certain it now contained more than it had before his last sip.

 A big smile came across Neal’s face. “You came all the way here and you have no idea what we do, do you?”

 Floyd huffed out a laugh. “No.” A shameful stupidity fell over him as his eye went to his drink, his hands went to his lap and his shoulders sank.

 Neal sat down across from him, placing his drink at the center of the table. “Well, my friend, what we do isn’t for the faint of heart.” He leaned back and slowly reached forward with his right hand, spinning his glass. “On occasion things go wrong, on a global level and in ways that can have galactic consequences.” He leaned forward, putting his elbows on the table. “That’s where we come in. With subtlety, resolve, a bit of optimism and whatever else,” he waved at Floyd, “you can come up with, we fix it.” He grabbed his drink and pulled it closer. “We stop those from taking too much before the rest feel deprived. We restructure the plans of those who would rule worlds at just the moment before corruption reaches their heart. We inspire those to stand up who may lead thousands to build a better future. In short, we save the day all over the universe.” Neal leaned back with his drink and took a strong swallow.

 Floyd was watching him with his mouth hung slightly open. “Wait,” his eye narrowed at Neal “you’re serious?”

“Hmm,” Neal shook his head.” I thought that was good.” He stood up and finished his drink. “You want another? Our food will take a minute.”

 “Wait, what do you mean ‘we’?” Floyd looked at Neal again.

 “I’m getting another. Do you want one?” Neal shrugged.

 “No, you said, ‘in short WE save the day all over the universe.’ ” Floyd pointed at him.

 “Oh, yeah, me and you. Kind of like Dash and Metzle, the Lone Ranger and Tonto, Buck Rogers and that little robot thing.”

 “So, who is Dash?”

 “Come on, you don’t even know where we are. Of course, I’m Dash. But Metzle was always cool.”

 Neal said pointing at Floyd.

 Floyd took the last gulp from his drink and set it down. “Okay, yeah, I’m in.”

 “Great, I’ll get you another just like that one.” Neal said turning back to the bar.

 “I mean I’ll take the job.” Floyd called out to him.

 Neal slowly turned back to him. He grinned widely, then shook his head and chuckled, walking back over to the table. “You haven’t been offered the job yet.” Neal said softly. His hands reached out and gripped the sides of the table as he bent towards Floyd. “You still have to prove you can do it.”

 Floyd huffed and leaned back and away from Neal. “No problem,” he said without any idea of what it would mean to prove himself.

 “Really? Well, I tell you what. The first thing you can do to prove your ability: Get me a ship.” Neal stood up straight again as he finished. “Steal one. I’m not saying buy or borrow one, that’s easy. I want one taken without consent. And I tell you what else. The more you can prove to me afterwards that you took a design you knew little about, the better. Cause you’re going to fly it too.” His hands went into his pockets and he rocked gently on his toes.

 Floyd’s face twisted with confusion, but as soon as Neal finished speaking, he said, “Fine.” He reached for his bag, wondering to himself what might be in there that would help him steal a spaceship.

 “I’ll give you three hours,” Neal said, placing his hand on the back of his chair.

 “Fine,” Floyd said again as he peered into his bag.

 Neal shrugged. “Cool.” He headed back to the bar.

 Floyd’s computer was in the spaceport’s security system before the bartender took Neal’s order for their second drinks. He had access to every dock on it, including control over departure and arrival allowances before the drinks were placed on the bar in front of Neal. Floyd was scanning a list of vessels for a prospective target as Neal set Floyd’s new drink in front of him.

 “The drinks and meal are on me if you can get us a ship,” Neal said through a smile as he stood across from Floyd, looking around the restaurant.

 If Floyd knew even half of the ship designs on the list, he would be laughing a loud, knowing he was almost finished. Instead, he cross-referenced the list with a search engine he found more commonly used on the spaceport’s browsers. They would have access to the relevant information. It took him a few moments to understand their interface, too. “I’ll have our ride narrowed down before your burger flips its last flop.” As he finished he looked curiously at his drink. Why was he saying so many things he didn’t quite understand?

 “Good. As soon as I finish my burger, I’m going to find our mark. About an hour after that, we will need to get out of here fast.” Neal sat down and took a healthy swig of his fresh drink.

 “Do I get the details of this mission? Or am I not at that level of trust yet?” Floyd asked, surprising himself with what he thought was a good question.

 Neal leaned in closer to Floyd. “If you don’t get us a ship and a way out of here, it won’t make much difference.” He smiled with a hint of regret in his face.

 Perhaps Neal doubted Floyd’s ability. More likely, Neal was worried about their mark. Could their mission simply be to kill somebody? That didn’t seem very noble for his new career, but the thought of killing someone he didn’t know wasn’t horrible enough to deter Floyd. He wasn’t certain that’s what Neal would do, anyway. It was the thought that Neal would do the killing that made it seem less immoral to him. He eyed his drink suspiciously again. Floyd then looked back at Neal. Somehow, Floyd was finding it easy to trust him. Yet, even with the slight buzz from the strong drink, he could tell that was going to get him into a lot of trouble.

 Their food arrived on a platter and smelled wonderful. With his first bite, Floyd could tell that a flop must be some kind of vegetable, maybe the thick, meaty leaf of a plant. The chef had cooked it to perfection and stuffed it into some sort of toasted roll. Halfway through it, Floyd wanted a second one. Two-thirds through, he knew the one would be satisfying enough.

 Within moments of finishing his meal, Neal was up. “Alright, I’m off. Find us a ship,” he said,
pointing at Floyd.

 “Wait, what?” Floyd looked up from his screen. “Are you coming back here?”

 “No, no, I’ll find you. Don’t worry. I got your info. I’ll shoot you a message or something,” Neal said, heading off.

 Floyd began to get up and then sat back down. Just as his focus returned to his computer, he wondered if Neal had paid their tab. He slowly looked at the bar to see the bartender looking at him. He smiled and then quickly looked down at his computer.

 He never gave Neal his solecomm code.