Robber Baron Read online

  "No, sir. Unless my girlfriend is classified as a 'planetary treasure' from back home." I pointed her out, standing near the New Planet desk.

  He winked at me. "Maybe you've got something there, son. Stay close to her, though; there's a lot of rough types around here." He stamped the passport and we left the spaceport for our hotel.

  *

  The city of Farlaya, Junxle, was quite a change from Tarkin. When you're used to a whole planet having less than a million people, one city with 1.5 million can be quite a shock. Since my toddler-hood, I had never seen a building higher than four or five stories. There were at least ten in Farlaya higher than a hundred stories, sprouting up into the sky, as if defying gravity to pull them back down. There were hundreds of others, looking as if they had been thrown together in a hurry. The streets of Tarkin, Persiphone, had been drawn out before hand, and all of them were as straight as surveying equipment could make them. In Farlaya, though, the main highways on the map looked as if a child had drawn them. In Tarkin, you could get along just by being friendly and hard working. In a city like Farlaya, it helps to have money too.

  Well, money wasn't really a problem for us.

  Another thing that wasn't a problem for us was the rotational period of sixty hours.

  Destiny and I had gotten along on very little sleep for a few years by then, sometimes not sleeping at all for several nights. I found that I could easily stay awake for the forty hours of daylight, and sleep most of the twenty hours of darkness. Most businesses in Farlaya scheduled their employees for ten-hour shifts, splitting them into six shifts a day. Most employees worked two shifts each day, for the three-day week.

  A Galactic Standard Year has 8,760 hours in it; that leaves exactly 146 Junxle days, which the Junxle government long ago divided into three-day weeks, making about 49 weeks per GS year. A lot of people (originally) had found it difficult to adjust to this, and took to sleeping twice a day. I met dozens of people who still did this; they slept once during the dark hours, and once again when the sun was straight up, keeping their biological clock more closely tuned to the human norm.

  I wasn't a normal human, I guess. Neither was Destiny. Very often, she would work her two ten-hour shifts in a row, then have forty hours before her next shift.

  One thing that was unnerving for me was the amount of people. I had spent most of my childhood and adolescence living on a farm outside Tarkin, where I didn't see anyone at all, except the other students at the small school. When I rode the bus into Tarkin, I had always thought of it as "going into the big city." Later, when I lived with Harry in town, I grew used to seeing homesteaders coming into town to buy supplies or to get their farming equipment fixed. There were many businesses and shops in Tarkin, all of which had their employees. And all of those employees had homes.

  But Farlayawas a different story altogether. Every where I turned, there were hundreds and thousands of people, scurrying about their daily business. The roads and skies were packed with vehicles of all kinds, and everyone constantly seemed to be in a hurry.

  I got used to it, I guess, but I never liked it.

  One thing that I did like was seeing so many Trayaks and Grangers. At first, I was curious -it's not everyday that a person on Persiphone sees a blue-skinned man - but soon, I realized that they were people too, each of them trying to make a living, just like everyone else.

  The fashions, of course, were different as well. Not as risqué as the comfortable nudity in Justine's resorts, but not as strict as on Persiphone either. Nudity was against the law, for both women and men, and the genitalia had to be covered. The courts had long ago determined that completely transparent clothing was the same as nudity, so that was also out. Other than that, though, quite a bit was allowed. I tried not to gawk at the women on the streets and in shops, wearing translucent tops or pants, or the women who wore completely clear blouses with body-paint underneath.

  It helped that Destiny was with me. Even when she wore more conservative clothing, I felt like a king with her on my arm. If I had been alone, I think I might have turned into some kind of sex-crazed stalker. Eventually, though, I grew accustomed to the social norms of Junxle's society, and thought nothing of it.

  *

  Within two weeks, Destiny had settled into her new office at the spaceport, and I had bought two cars. One was a Cyr Luxury Sport - a few years newer than Destiny's old one we had left back home, and the other was a Grumman Cruiser LX, for me. To buy my car, I used my new Junxle ID card, which read Philipp Kaplan. For the other, I used my passport for identification, which read Philipp Bates. I figured that way the financial records would be a little harder to track down.

  We bought the house under Destiny's name. It was nothing fancy, but definitely better than most people our age could afford. It was on a small plot by itself, on the edge of town: two bedrooms, two baths, a nice modern kitchen, and two sizable living areas. There were tall hedges all around the property, and two nice porches, one facing east into the sunrise and the other facing west, into the sunset. I had withdrawn all the money from my trust fund just before I left Persiphone, about 80,000nd worth, along with a couple of thousand from my personal savings account. I went around to several banks in Junxle, using the same trust fund paperwork to deposit 80,000nd in each one. In this way, I got rid of much of our extra cash. Destiny made several large deposits of her own, making sure we always had enough cash on hand at home to get us out of a sticky situation. I figured between the banks on Justine and the banks in Farlaya, we had about 9 million newdollars tucked away. And gaining interest too, at close to four percent, on average. Destiny used some of our money to buy some stock in the Cyr Corporation, now based on Persiphone. The Cyr family had been around for a few centuries now, and their business had prospered and grown the entire time. I bought some shares in the Colonial Commission, figuring that that could never be a bad deal, since the human race would never quit having babies and sending them to new planets.

  *

  There is a school of thought that claims criminals (like myself) are "victims of society." That may be true to varying degrees, depending on the criminal in question. There are others who blame traumatic events in the childhood years for an adult criminal life. Still others say people like me are just lazy, and are trying to "beat the system," finding an easier way to make a living. Maybe for some "criminals," all of these are true. If a certain boy experienced beatings from his father, and was constantly starved for attention as a child, then was "let down" by the government, and still later found out how easy it would be to steal; it is conceivable that he would see crime as the only "way out."

  Many of these criteria apply to me, I know. My parents were taken from me. And stealing is easier than working. But I don't think any of this is true for me, or for Destiny. We both came from good homes, although mine only lasted for thirteen years or so. We had both had good jobs on a fresh, empty planet, and found ourselves in high stations in life, with her father quickly becoming a multi-millionaire, and my "father" being the governor of Persiphone, and a good one at that.

  And I don't think the "lazy" part applies either. From as early as I can remember, I was working, either on the farm, on homework, or at the Supermarket. Destiny worked her way through Tarkin University (except for that small scholarship), and kept her job with New Planet when we moved. Greedy? Maybe a little; I could think of many things I could do with 9 million newdollars. But perhaps the main reason we got into the trade of bank robbing was the thrill, the excitement, and the blood-boiling adrenaline rush that comes when you're stuffing millions of dollars into a bag. (Besides that, we were good at it.)

  Our society really didn't have a lot to offer in the way of excitement. No wars going on, until the Sleebb threat came along. No famines, plagues, or anything like that. Sure, there were video shows, sports of all kinds, casinos, nightclubs, strip clubs, amusement parks, and so on. But are there really any new plots available for these video shows? And do the professional basketball pla
yers ever come up with any innovative moves? Is there a casino where you won't find homeless losers wasting their last dime? Are there any new pickup lines to use at the nightclubs? Is there anything at a strip club that I haven't seen before? Not really. To me, these things were to be experienced once, just to see what they were like, and then they were old hat.

  But robbing a bank gets my juices flowing every time, and I can tell that it does for Destiny, too. Her eyes light up, her cheeks get flushed, her breathing gets faster; she becomes even more beautiful - if that be possible - in the middle of a bank robbery. And afterward, she is always ready to celebrate in bed. It's robbing banks that floats my boat, rings my bell, burns my toast, gets me off - whatever cliché you want to use. And to rob banks, you've got to do other things, like learn how to hide money, and disguise your spending. You have to plan, practice, and prepare ("Proper Prior Planning Prevents Piss-Poor Performance.") You have to know your weapons, choose your escape routes, and expect the unexpected - like that one bank manager I found in the bathroom. And you might end up ending someone's life, just to save your own or that of someone you love - like when I killed Donovan, and those other two cops in Tarkin.

  Do I feel bad about ending three lives? (Four, counting Donovan's son, but of course I didn't feel bad about him!) Chief of Police Donovan was miserable, separated from his wife, his son a dead rapist, and himself a failed police chief. I may have done him a favor. The other two cops? One was single, and an alcoholic. The other was married, and cheating on his wife.

  Better that she should suffer from his death in the line of duty than to find out he was banging some teenager from the outer farms. Besides, what happens after you die? According to science, the molecules of your body rejoin the dust from whence they came. According to Christianity, you're either going to Heaven or Hell, based upon your own relationship with "God." According to other religions, you may come back to be another living creature, or spend your days in Valhalla, or rowing along the Nile (whatever the "Nile" is.)

  Either way, I didn't feel too bad about putting them down. Besides, if they had followed police procedure, all of them would be alive today. Only occasionally did I lament the fact that I, personally, had committed murder, and only because I knew my father would disapprove.

  *

  While Destiny worked, I studied. I don't mean I went to college. I mean I studied the criminal element that the Customs officer had been talking about. I had a reason for wanting to learn more about the "underworld." I didn't want to associate with them. I didn't want to be known as "hanging with that crowd." I wanted to buy a ship. And after all the trouble Destiny and I went through to cover up our car and house purchases, we didn't want to blow our cover by just calling up the Grumman Shimki Corporation, and ordering a space ship. I decided that the only way to buy a ship without some government agency finding out about it would be to go through a less-than-legal process. Especially with cash. Most of the major robbery crimes throughout history have been solved because the criminals in question spent their money badly.

  At first, I just read the police blotter in the daily papers, looking for neighborhoods that had an unusual amount of crime. Then I got a bright idea. I visited several realty offices, and acted as if I was looking for a home. At each office, I asked about bad neighborhoods, saying I sure as hell didn't want to end up in any of them. At each office, the same answers were given.

  I marked off two areas on a map as "bad places to raise a family."

  Then I began hanging around in those areas, visiting local bars and restaurants, always looking sharp, always armed, always driving my new Grumman, but not always alone. Several times, I took Destiny with me. She knew why I was doing all of this, and congratulated me for thinking on my own. She said the only thing she was worried about was my safety. I assured her that after all that time with Jason Quivers, I wouldn't have too much trouble.

  After only a few weeks, I began meeting people. I learned their names, addresses, vidphone numbers, type of vehicle - anything I could learn about them by just being observant and friendly. In return, I didn't give away much. Anyone watching could see that I dressed well for someone my age, and drove a new car. I always tipped well, and never said much. No one I met ever guessed I was only eighteen years old, since I did my best to give the impression of a refined gentleman.

  For months, I. spent at least three evenings a week in these areas of town, meeting all kinds of people, eavesdropping on conversations, making friends with waitresses and bartenders. The rest of my time I spent working around the house, checking out the list prices of new spacecraft, exercising, and scoping out the city's banks.

  I found that a brand new space ship didn't really cost that much. A middle class family could (barely) afford an a-grav space yacht in which to tour the local solar system. A new ground car, on the average, cost about 10,000nd. One of these space yachts (a control cabin, a tiny bunkroom, a bathroom, and a galley) cost about 25,000nd. Of course, these ships were limited to the solar system, having no hyperdrive, but they made good vacation vehicles.

  The cheapest hyperdrive vehicles were barely larger than these a-grav yachts, but started at 200,000nd. This extra cost is for the hyperdrive itself, plus the powerful computer that keeps track of the planetary movements all over the galaxy, plus the huge tax most planets place on hyperdrive units. Small courier/cargo ships cost about 900,000nd. A medium-sized freighter was running about 2,000,000, and a small passenger ship could cost as much as 10,000,000nd. None of which would be a problem for me. Except that I didn't want to get caught spending money that I wasn't supposed to have.

  I thought about buying a used ship - most developed planets have a used shipyard somewhere, or a ship "graveyard." In the end, though, I made a sad commentary on the state of affairs in our society by deciding that criminals were more trustworthy than used ship salesmen.

  Also, during this time, Destiny and I got married. Several times. The first time, she became Destiny Kaplan (we always considered this to be our real wedding). The second time, she became Destiny Bates. The third time, I took her name, and became Philipp Dester. In other "marriages," we switched up our names in other ways, sometimes hyphenating our surnames, or using "Kaplan" as my first name. In this way, we acquired several "legal" IDs.

  Then my lucky break came; it was early in 2489 GS, sometime in the middle of Junxle's year. Destiny and I had been sitting in a restaurant, watching people and listening, when she got up to go to the bathroom. To do so, she had to go through the bar area, where she received several whistles. Neither one of us minded that very much.

  What I minded was the ugly brute who stood up from his barstool and headed toward the restrooms at that point.

  When I saw him stop and wait, just outside the women's restroom, I got up and made my way toward him, walking at a normal pace through the half-empty establishment. I got to him just as Destiny made her exit from the bathroom. I wasn't looking for a chance to show off my fighting skills, I was merely making sure that my one and only love would not experience any unpleasantness.

  "Pardon me," she said to him, trying to squeeze past.

  He moved, so that his bulk filled the tiny hallway. Then he said something to her that made her gasp (which I won't repeat here), so I tapped him on the shoulder. "Shove off!" he roared, and moved to help me along.

  I grabbed his arm, and yanked him backward. "Look, mister. That's my wife you're talking to."

  He just grinned sloppily, and tried to move back into the hallway. "And what're you gonna do about it, punk?"

  My hand shot out, just as Jason had taught me, and hit the right spot on the man's throat. And just as Jason had promised, the mountain of flesh sank to the floor, his eyes rolling up into his head. I glanced both ways to see if anyone had seen anything. No one had. I then called out, "Bartender! Please, help this man. I believe he's had too much to drink."

  Within seconds, several employees were dragging the limp man to the front door, where they dropped him o
n the sidewalk. I walked back to our table, with Destiny clinging tightly to my arm. "My hero. Again," was all she said, in a tight whisper. After we had been sitting down for a few minutes, one of the other men that had been sitting at the bar put his cigar out, and meandered his way over to our table.

  "Do you mind if I sit down, sir?" I noticed that he too was dressed nicely, and carried himself well.

  "Not at all. Can I get you anything?" I studied him, and noticed that he was studying me in the same way. He looked to be about forty years old, short and wiry, with jet-black hair and eyes.

  "No, thank you. I saw what happened to Dan, over there." He looked in my eyes, without expression.

  "And?" I kept the expression out of my face as well, trying to find out where he was heading with his line of conversation.