HAIR: PART ONE
by Womby
I’d been sitting at Disco Lando’s waiting for a date,
and it was becoming increasingly obvious that I’d
been stood up. I was about to leave when I noticed a
lone customer get up from his table and walk to the
toilet. I couldn’t believe my luck. He had left his jacket
draped over his chair. Casually I got up and made my
way to the bar, brushing past the jacket. With expert
skill born from years of practice, I pocketed his
bulging wallet and changed course for the exit.
Pausing outside I quickly checked my haul. Identity
card for one M. Mongrel, some UEC, a picture of his
wife or girlfriend and a couple of receipts. One was
for a load of empty barrels, and the other was for 6
months rental of a deluxe hangar. Scrawled on the
receipt was a lock code. Jackpot!
There was however a problem. The guy was going to
notice his missing wallet - I had to re place it before he
got back. After retracing my steps I glanced around
the room, but couldn’t see him. Assuming he was still
in the gents, I deftly returned the wallet and headed
back outside.
Sharon and I had known each other for a long time.
She turned tricks in this area, and I occasionally
bought information from her about some of her
wealthier clients. She owed me a favor, and I figured
now was the time to call it in. I described Mr. Mongrel
to her, and she agreed to keep him occupied for a
percentage of the take.
Having ensured no unwanted interruptions, I wasted
no time in heading to the address on the hangar
receipt. It was in a deserted area, surrounded by a lot
of condemned buildings.
Keying in the lock code resulted in the access door
swinging open, and as I stepped inside I
heard it closing softly behind me.
The place was huge. I counted several smaller ships,
mostly Hornet Variants, a Cutlass and a 315P. That is
not what caught my immediate attention, however.
Right in front of me was a shiny new Constellation,
worth on its own more than I could earn in a lifetime.
Behind that I could make out a Freelancer and a
Caterpillar. All I had to do was transfer them to my
own hangar, then fly them out one by one to Spider
to get forged serial numbers. This was far better
than I could have hoped for!
First things first. I was going to need more time. I
sent a mobiglass message to Sharon, telling her
12
to “take care” of Mr. Mongrel. This was huge. Then
I boarded the Constellation to give it a pre flight
check. I had just finished powering it up when I was
overcome with fatigue, so I headed for one of the
bunks in the Constellation.
Next thing I knew, I was back at the entrance. WTF?
I must have blacked out for some reason. I checked
my mobiglass. Nothing from Sharon.
Heeding the call of nature, I headed back to the
Constellation. It was powered down. Strange.
Moving to the head, I relieved myself and washed my
hands in the basin. It was then that I glanced in the
mirror. My hair was gone!
OK, maybe someone slipped me something
hallucinogenic at Disc Lando’s, and I shaved off my
hair before blacking out. Yeah, that was almost
plausible.
Still no message from Sharon. I decided to wander
around and check the cargo. There were numerous
barrels, neatly arranged in stacks. I checked the
nearest label. “Hair: human”. If I’d had any left, it
would have been standing on end right about then.
That was the start of my current existence. It has
been months. I still can’t get out. My hair grows,
then one day I black out and I am bald again. I live on
a diet of raw fish, that is mysteriously replenished
whenever I sleep. For some reason my mobiglass is
cut off from the outside world. It stopped working
the day I arrived in this place.
I am writing this on my mobiglass, and will send it if
communications are ever restored.
Help me.
Please.