The Hunt for Reduk Topa by Barry J Hutchison

Author:Barry J Hutchison [Hutchison, Barry J]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Zertex Media Ltd
Published: 2019-03-02T16:00:00+00:00

Nineteen

“Welcome to the Viaview Network Station Alpha. Our Vision, Your View. How may I direct your inquiry?”

The image on screen hadn’t changed to show the person talking, but Cal sat up straighter all the same. Some distance ahead of the Currently Untitled—Cal had no idea how much—a crystalline space station hung like a diamond against the reds, blues, and purples of space.

“This is Captain Cal Carver of the Currently Untitled,” he replied. “We have a delivery for, uh…”

“The Controller, sir,” said Kevin.

“We have a delivery for the Controller. Two crates from the planet Floomfle.”

Loren half-turned in her chair. “They’re not from the planet Floomfle.”

“They’re not?” asked Cal, dropping his voice to a whisper and leaning closer. “What was it called?”

“Tolgor,” Loren hissed. “One of Trogol’s moons.”

Cal sat back. “Sorry, my mistake. It’s from…”

His eyes crept back to Loren.

“Tolgor.”

“Tolgor,” said Cal. “Not the planet Floomfle. Which, uh, doesn’t exist. As far as we know.”

There was a pause, then the female voice returned.

“One moment, please.”

There was a soft buzz for a moment, and then muzak chimed from the speakers. Cal bobbed his head in time with it as they waited.

“Not calling it ‘the planet Floomfle’ seems like a missed opportunity on their part,” he said, after a while.

He tapped his toes and drummed his fingers on the armrests.

“They should rebrand,” he mused. “I bet tourism would skyrocket.”

He knocked his knees together in time with the beat.

“It’s like, ‘Hey, want to go on vacation?’ ‘I don’t know, where to?’ ‘The moon of Tofu, or whatever?’ ‘Fonk, no! That sounds terrible.’ ‘You’re right. How about the planet Floomfle?’ ‘Hell, yes! With all the Floomfles?’ ‘Of course with all the Floomfles! It’s the planet Floomfle.’ ‘Count me in! I am there!’”

He looked around at the others. “You know what I mean?”

A tiny metal hammer flew across the room and cracked him on the back of the head.

“Ow! What the fon—?”

“Thank you for your patience,” said the voice from the speakers. “You may proceed to Gate Seven-Oh-Niner-Niner-Eight-Six.”

“Thank you,” Cal began.

“Four-Four-Echo-Niner-Seven…”

“Fonk. Pen. Someone get a pen,” Cal whispered.

“…Five-Oh-Three-Niner-Two.”

Cal smiled hopefully at the speaker. “Uh, could you possibly repeat—”

“Thank you for visiting Viaview. Our Vision, Your View. Have a great day.”

There was a click. Cal waited a moment.

“Hello?” he asked, but the only reply was the soft hiss of static. “Great,” he said, throwing his arms up. “Did anyone get that number?”

Mech and Loren both shook their heads. Cal hadn’t even bothered to look at Miz, knowing full well that she wouldn’t have been listening in the first place.

“OK, new rule, from now on everyone has to carry a pen,” Cal said.

“Don’t worry, sir,” said Kevin. “I’m able to recall the gate number.”

“You are?” asked Cal, sounding a little dubious.

“Indeed, sir. My databanks are almost limitless. I have the capacity to remember anything. A fifteen-digit number is unlikely to cause me any problems.”

Cal nodded, impressed. “OK. Well, great.

“Or was it sixteen?” Kevin wondered.

Cal’s cheeks deflated, as did his spirits.

“Not to worry, sir,” Kevin said. “I’m sure we’ll figure it out.

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