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Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Satire · #2315164
A satirical SCIFI story about frustration and bureaucratic red tape in the distant future.
Galactic Racket

by Damon Nomad

(Word Count 4340)



         Horris scanned the monitors to make sure they weren't being followed as the Falling Star moved away from a commercial space station orbiting Pluto. They seemed to make enemies everywhere they did business. "Tossed from the Plutonian Extraction Group." He waggled a finger at Magnus. "I knew you were running another scam. We aren't gonna be able to do business anywhere in the galaxy if we get banned by another trade station."
         Magnus reclined in his seat. "It was legit. Those chuckleheaded plutonites didn't read the fine print." He snorted a laugh. "We weren't banned; just suspended." He put his stocking feet up on the console. "There are millions of asteroid trading stations across the galaxy. Lots of opportunities. We've had a few setbacks."
         Horris shook his head. "More than a few. Keep things above board on this next job." He punched the route into the navigation computer. A quick trip to scoop up a load of stony asteroids and then a long stretch to Cygnus. "Why are we going all the way out to Cyngus Gamma One? I've never heard of asteroid haulers going out there."
         Magnus sniffed the air with a frown. "Starting to smell in here. The waste systems need cleaning."
         Horris slammed a fist on the console. "I hold up my end of things in this partnership. We barely have the credits for fuel and upkeep of the biosystems and propulsion. I'll take care of the nonessential stuff when we have more credits. " He paused a moment. "You didn't answer me. Why are we going way out there to deliver rocky asteroids?"
         Magnus sniffed the air again and glanced at Horris. We need showers. "I found a place that pays a big premium for stone roids. We're gonna make two years' worth of credits in this one run."
         "Sounds suspicious. Why they paying so much for plain stones?"
         "Cause they're so far off the trade routes. Probably doing wholesale for the entire sector. They cornered the market, but have to pay a premium because most haulers don't want to travel so far." He smirked. "I've scoped it out."
         He pointed at Horris. "You'll be thanking me when we leave the dock, flush with credits."
         "I'm serious, better not be another one of your swindles." Horris slowed the ship down to sub-light speed and contacted the dockmaster. "Falling Star requesting a portal for stone pickup."
         They both heard the response from the dockmaster. "Take Portal Five, Falling Star. Credits paid in advance."
         Magnus and Horris went quiet as Falling Star took on its cargo. Horris Droople and Magnus Klanker have been best friends since primary school on a trading station orbiting Uranus. They never told anyone they were Uranites, too many sarcastic jokes. They said they were from one of the Saturn stations, which was much cooler. They were different in many ways but made a perfect odd sort of partnership.
         Horris, a big, heavy-set guy, with a jowly face. He sported a crew cut and dark horned-rim glasses. Few people wore spectacles these days; he thought they made him look smart. Terrible marks in school but a natural when it came to fixing any sort of contraption and flying spaceships. He talked slowly and was painfully shy around women, but he was a thoughtful person.
         Magnus was a diminutive, fast-talking, lifetime schemer, with a sarcastic wit. He had a certain amount of charm along with sparkling gray eyes, puffy-coiffed hair, and an eye for women way out of his league. He was metro smart, but like Horris, had terrible grades in school.
         They never got their secondary school certificates; they were expelled their last year. They were caught cheating on a science exam. Magnus had gotten the answers beforehand and Horris didn't question the source of the study material. The secondary school principal said that the two of them almost made a complete person. A single useless idiot. Magnus worked in a poker bar and Horris in a spaceship repair shop after getting drummed out of school. They lived together and saved their credits until they had enough to buy a used cargo hauler, Falling Star. Partners for nearly twelve years now, their business model was to buy asteroids in bulk and make a profit by keeping costs low. Not an original idea and a lot of competition. They managed to get by, but just barely.
                   ***
         Nearly a Galactic Standard Solar Day later, the auto-pilot, Betsy, woke them up in their individual quarters. "Rise and shine boys, credits to be made. Dropping to sub-light speed and approaching Stone Specialty Station."
         Magnus got to the bridge moments after Horris. The large screen display showed the space station with a handful of rock haulers in docking ports. Horris tapped on some controls and eased into a slow approach. "That's a small trading post, only twenty-five ports, about half full."
         Magnus took his seat. "Niche market for stones."
         Horris announced their arrival via the coms, "Stone Specialty Station, this is Falling Star requesting a docking port."
         An older model female android voice replied, "Welcome to Stone Specialty Station, a Proud Member of the Cygnus Gamma One Good Business Bureau. Your bid for stone asteroid delivery has been received and approved. Port number nine; contract beaming to you now."
         Horris and Magnus scanned the contract on a monitor at their consoles. Magnus quickly went to the bottom line. "Got the price and the volume correct. Look at that payout. Just like I told you." He clicked approved for M&H Enterprises and beamed it back.
         Horris quickly skimmed through the contract as the port tenders pulled them into the dock. "Five hundred and three pages. Aren't they usually just a few pages?"
         "The contract is the first nine pages; the rest is just an appendix of the trade regulations. No need to read through all that legalese."
         Horris saw that every page of the contract had the same note at the bottom of the page. He read it aloud, "Payment is dependent on meeting all terms and conditions of the Cygnus Gamma One Trade Association Regulations." He stared at Magnus. "Sounds important."
         Magnus waved a hand. "Standard boilerplate language; don't worry about it. Maybe they're a bit bureaucratic. We may need to be patient and I'll make sure they aren't gouging us for any fees."
         About an hour later, they headed down the gangway to the dockmaster's office. Magnus waved a hand. "Place has some age on it, but it's in good condition. Looks like a quality operation." He waved at a door. "Dockmaster right there."
         They were surprised to be the only ones in the small office. An old model female clerk android was behind the counter. A yellow vest, matching yellow cap, and a burgundy scarf around her neck. One of the models that didn't have a lower half to her body; perpetually sitting in a chair. "Welcome to the Stone Specialty docking office, Mr. Droople and Mr. Klanker. I'm Candice. Please have a seat and I'll process your docking fees and review the terms and conditions of doing business as VIP affiliates of Stone Specialty Station."
         Magnus whispered, "VIP treatment Horris; what you think about that?"
         Horris looked around the small office. "Not bad." He leaned back in the comfortable chair.
         Candice gestured to the display monitor on the counter in front of them; her movements were a bit jerky and one of her eyes wandered randomly about. "Docking fees of three thousand credits for seventy-two hours."
         Magnus shook his head, "We're hoping to be gone tomorrow."
         "This covers you if you are delayed for any reason. You will be reimbursed the credits for any unused time."
         Magnus drummed his fingers on the counter. "What about environmental and waste processing fees?"
         Candice nodded with a crooked grin. "They are included."
         Magnus stroked his chin. "Energy, inventory, cargo offloading?"
         "Everything is included Mr. Klanker; part of the VIP package for large volume haulers."
         Magnus raised his eyebrows as he looked at Horris. "Only a thousand credits a day total for docking fees." He clicked on the approved tab on the monitor and paid the fees. "Thank you, Candice."
         Candice gestured to the monitor again. "I will review the terms and conditions for docking, portage, and final delivery. Mr. Klanker and Mr. Droople, you both have to acknowledge each item."
         The monitor flashed back to life as Candice started, "Section one environmental; item one approved lubricants."
         Nearly four hours later, Horris and Magnus clicked their last approvals, their backs, necks, and eyes aching. Candice smiled with a crooked grin and a nod for the umpteenth time. "Thank you for your cooperation." Her neck quietly creaked as she turned her head. "Would you like an optional safety check of your ship while you are in port?"
         Magnus shook his head as his temples pounded with a headache. "No safety check." Please let this be over.
          "Very good. I'll give you a hard copy of your docking receipt, confirming the volume of your cargo, that you have paid your fees for seventy-two hours, and that you have completed the terms and conditions acknowledgment. You will need this hard copy to get paid at the Mining Express Payment Service Center. You can get it stamped by the dockmaster supervisor at the exit."
         Magnus grabbed the package of papers from the countertop. "Can you recommend a hotel?"
         "We already have rooms booked for you and Mr. Doople at the Rock Hauler Prestige Inn. Right across the tube line from the payment service center. Discount Rate for VIP haulers, one hundred credits a night with breakfast buffet included."
         Magnus tapped Horris on the shoulder. "Let's go, we might have time to get paid today. Celebrate tonight, offload the cargo first thing tomorrow, and be out of here."
         Horris rubbed his back as he stood up. "That was horrible. I couldn't take much more."
         Magnus picked up the pace as they headed out the door. "Good docking fees and a discount on a nice hotel. We can deal with a little red tape."
         Horris slowly nodded in agreement. "Yeah, you're right and I love a good breakfast buffet."
         They headed for the dock supervisor's small office near the exit. There was a line of ten or eleven haulers waiting in line outside the door. Magnus waved at the crowd. "I'm not standing in that line. Who cares if the thing is stamped? Why do they need a hard copy anyway? Let's go. It's all on computer"
         They found the tube station, and Magnus studied the map. Horris watched the people milling about and walking past. "Not a lot of people here. Kind of quiet." He shrugged with a sigh. "Not a friendly bunch either."
         Magnus tapped on the map. "Okay, come on let's get to the paymaster and get our credits."
         Less than an hour later, they rushed through the front door of the Mining Express Payment Service Center. Magnus chuckled, "They're open for another hour. Should be enough time."
         They followed the signs to the reception desk. They found another droid, the same model as Candice, but with different hair and clothes. Her head was kind of at a tilt; they needed to do more maintenance on their clerical droids. "Good day, I'm Maxine. How may I help you?"
         Magnus answered, "We just came from the dockmaster. We're hoping to get our payment for a load. Where do we need to go?"
         "What's the name of your ship?" Maxine's voice was a tad garbled.
         "Falling Star." Magnus slowly drummed his fingers on the counter.
         "Ah yes, Mr. Klanker and Mr. Doople. VIP affiliates. The cargo acceptance office needs to check you in before you can see the paymaster. Do you have your space dock receipt?"
         Magnus laid it on the counter. "Right here."
         Maxine slowly skimmed through each page. "Looks like everything is in order." She paused when she got to the last page. "You don't have the dockmaster's stamp. Trade Association Regulation 354 (c) is clear; no cargo acceptance review without a stamped receipt."
         She handed the papers back. "Thank you for your cooperation."
                   ***
         The next morning, Magnus and Horris sat in a booth at the hotel breakfast buffet. Magnus poured himself another cup of strong brew. "Lesson learned from yesterday, the stamps are important here. My fault."
         Horris swallowed a mouthful of protein strips and toast. "You notice how dead this place is; not very many people. They are all so quiet."
         Magnus shrugged. "I hadn't really noticed. Kind of an out-of-the-way place. No need to rush this morning. We get the stamp and then back to get the sign-off for the cargo acceptance office." He smiled as he waved a finger in the air. "Then the paymaster."
         They finished breakfast and made their way to the tube station. There was no line when they got to the dockmaster supervisor's office. A dark-skinned man with a beard was just leaving the counter as they came into the small office.
         Horris gestured at the man. "Howdy hauler." The man barely looked at Horris and Magnus as he shuffled past. Horris muttered, "Not even a hello for fellow haulers."
         The dockmaster supervisor was a big burly guy with the look of someone who had been on the docks for years. "Hello, gents. What can I do for you?"
         Magnus noticed the supervisor's arm movement was a bit jerky as he waved them to come forward. He whispered to Horris, "Another android, a newer full-body model." He laid the dock receipt on the counter. "Yes sir, we need the dockmaster's stamp on our receipt. We missed you yesterday."
         "No problem. Vessel name and owners?"
         "Falling Star. M&H Enterprises."
         The supervisor typed on his terminal. "What's the vessel registration number for the Falling Star?"
         Magnus bit his lip. "Vessel registration?" He sighed. "Where do we go for that?"
         "We can do it right here. A simple form." He continued typing on the terminal. "Just need your vessel safety certificate."
         Magnus's voice had an angry edge, "We were told the safety check is optional."
         "That's correct. You can dock at Stone Specialty Station without a safety check. However, trade regulation 76(f) requires a safety certificate before a vessel can receive a vessel registration number. The dockmaster can only stamp dock receipts for registered spaceships, regulation 185 (k)." His head bobbed up and down. "Have to follow the rules."
         Magnus felt his anger start to boil over, but he kept a calm tone. "How many credits for a safety check?"
         "You're VIP haulers; there is no fee for the safety check. There is a VIP waiting lounge just down the walkway. Thank you for your cooperation."
         It was nearly dinner time when they finally left the lounge. More than three hundred safety checks, a list of sixty-three recommended maintenance items, and five mandatory repairs. Magnus ran his hand through his hair. "Well, we got the vessel registration certificate, vessel safety certificate, and our stamped dock receipt." He gestured with a wave. "Good price on the mandatory repairs. We lost a day, but good to have a thorough checkout of the Falling Star."
         Horris nodded slowly. "I guess so. I'm starving."
                   ***
         They made their way to the Mining Express Payment Service Center after breakfast the next morning. Magnus carried the growing package of documents. He muttered as they came through the front door, "We're getting paid this morning." He bit his lip. Surely, we have everything now.
         Maxine's voice was still a bit garbled and her head seemed to be at a more awkward tilt as she sat behind the reception desk. She slowly went through the package of documents. "Everything is in order for the cargo acceptance office." She handed the package of documents back to Magnus. "Third level and thank you for your cooperation."
         Another old model android was sitting behind the counter of the small office of cargo acceptance. "Good morning, I'm Renee. How may I help you." Her eyes were different colors and one of her eyebrows was missing.
         Magnus and Horris took a seat on the opposite side of the counter. Magnus tried something new. "Can I ask a question, Renee?"
         "Yes, of course."
         "We are from M&H Enterprises. Our vessel, the Falling Star, is in port with a load of stones. Are you the last checkpoint before the paymaster?"
         Renee typed on the computer. "Mr. Klanker and Mr. Droople, the Flying Star. Do you have your stamped dock receipt?"
         "Yes."
         "Your vessel registration certificate and vessel safety certificate?"
         "Yes, mam."
          "I am your last check before going to the paymaster. First, we need to complete the cargo review checklist. Then I will give you the invoice and you take it to the paymaster for payment. Very simple. Are you ready to complete the checklist?"
         Magnus looked at Horris with a nod. "We're ready."
         After nearly two hours, Renee announced, "Last item and we are done. Crew registration numbers for Mr. Klanker and Mr. Droople."
         Magnus squeezed his thigh as he fought the urge to scream. "Crew registration numbers?" He took in a deep breath. "We don't have those; where do we go for that?"
         "Level four, crew registration office."
         Magnus's voice trembled with frustration, "You said you were the last checkpoint before going to the paymaster."
         "Yes, if you had met all the necessary forms and registration requirements."
         "Why didn't you ask for our crew registration numbers before we got started?"
         Renee stared at him for just a moment. "It's the last item on the checklist. I'm required to follow the checklist strictly in sequence."
         Nearly six hours later, they raced back to the cargo acceptance office with all the forms including their newly acquired crew registration certificate. Less than thirty minutes later, Renee handed Magnus the hard copy of the invoice. "Take this to the paymaster on level four."
         They rushed back up to level four and towards the paymaster's office. They heard the sound of the door locking just as they got to it and the light streaming from under the door went dark. Magnus clenched his fists. "One minute late. One minute."
         Horris gestured for calm. "We got the invoice. Let's have dinner and we're outta here tomorrow." He paused a moment. "After the breakfast buffet."
                   ***
         Late the next morning, they strutted into the paymaster's office carrying their overnight bags. Magnus muttered when he saw the man seated behind the desk, "Finally, a person."
         The man stood up and gestured to two chairs in front of his desk. "Gentlemen, have a seat. I'm Mr. Woodman. What's your business today?" He sat back down.
         Magnus heard quiet creaking and popping of Woodman's joints as he sat down. Another android, but a modern model and in a better state of repair. Magnus and Horris sat down, and Magnus spoke, "We have our invoice and we would like to get our credits."
         "Let me bring up your contract. Vessel name and owners?"
         "Falling Star. M&H Enterprises."
         Woodman typed at his terminal. "Very good. Take a look at the monitor and confirm the volume and fee are correct."
         Magnus smiled as he looked at the monitor facing them. "Both are correct." The big payout number on the screen raised his spirits.
         "Docking Receipt, please?"
         Magnus handed the document over and Woodman slowly went through each page. "Very good everything is in order. Vessel registration certificate."
         Magnus handed over the certificate with the registration number. Woodman reviewed the paper. "Very good."
         They went through the same exercise for the vessel safety certificate and crew registration certificate. Woodman handed back the crew registration certificate and typed at his terminal for a few moments. "That's everything I need. Let me have your invoice, I'll stamp it and you are done."
         Magnus's hand trembled as he handed off the last piece of paper. Finally, they had jumped through all of the hoops. Woodman stamped the invoice with force and handed it back to Magnus. "Thank you for your cooperation." He typed a few moments on his terminal.
         Magnus's eyes went wide open when he saw the bold red stamp on the invoice. PAYMENT DENIED. He slammed a fist on the counter as he stood up. "Payment Denied! We gave you everything you requested."
         Woodman calmly replied as he stayed in his seat. "You are aware that payment is dependent on meeting all terms and conditions of the trade association regulations. Regulation 783 (p) requires the presentation of all the paperwork and the invoice within seventy-two hours of the spaceship's arrival at port. The Falling Star arrived in port seventy-three hours ago."
         Woodman gestured at the digital clock on the wall. "Seventy-three hours and twenty minutes."
         He handed another sheet of paper to Magnus. "In addition, you only paid docking fees for seventy-two hours. You are in arrears on docking fees. This is notice that your cargo has been confiscated as payment and penalties for overdue payment in accordance with regulation 871 (d)."
         Woodman stood up. "Thank you for doing business with Stone Specialty Station."
         A door opened behind Woodman and two large full body male androids came into the room. Woodman gestured to the two droids. "Dragoon and Loomis will escort you to the departure lounge. They will carry your bags for you; a free service for VIP haulers."
                   ***
         An hour later, Magnus and Horris slouched back in seats at the departure lounge as they waited for the clearance call for Falling Star. They had hardly spoken a word since they had been dumped here by the two goons. Horris gestured at a dark-skinned man selling drinks and snacks on the other side of the large room. "That's the hauler we saw leaving the dockmaster supervisor's office. Why would a hauler be running a snack shop?"
         Magnus studied the man for a minute. "You sure?"
         "Darn sure. He didn't even return a friendly howdy."
         Magnus looked around at the small crowd of people sitting and milling about in the lounge. He chuckled. "It's a giant racket." He stood up on the table in front of their chairs.
         Horris' eyes went wide open. "What are you doing?"
         Magnus gestured around the room with a wave of his hand. "Shut them down. You can't scam a scammer. Let's talk or our first stop will be the galactic fraud squad."
         Horris stood up. "Have you gone crazy? Get down."
         Magnus pointed at him. "Wait for it. Wait for it."
         Moments later, everyone in the lounge froze in place and the room went silent. A voice came over a loudspeaker. "Meet me on the fifth level of Express Payment, office of the president."
         Horris looked around. "Everyone in here is a droid? What's going on?"
         Magnus jumped off the table and started walking toward the exit. "Everyone in the whole space station is a droid except for us and whoever is controlling the place. All of these bureaucratic delays are just part of a computer program running the droids. A setup to keep us here past the invoice period so that they legally don't have to pay us and can impound our cargo. After we leave, they take our cargo and sell it to another station at market price."
         Magnus smiled as he shook his head. "Darn near legal. But it's fraud."
         Horris slammed a fist into his other hand. "Let's get the cargo back."
         Magnus started walking faster. "I have a better idea."
         ***
         Less than an hour later, they walked into the large and elaborately decorated office of the president. They found an older man sitting behind an ornamental desk. He had an almost professorial appearance and a thick head of unruly gray hair. He stood up and gestured to a sitting area. "Please have a seat Mr. Klanker and Mr. Droople."
         An attractive full-body female android came into the room carrying a tray of cups of strong brew. She served them and left the room.
         Magnus asked, "Who are you?"
         "I go by Professor Marvel. What is it you want?"
         Magnus took a sip of brew. "How long you been running this racket?"
         Marvel paused for a moment. "Nearly thirty-five years; you're the first one ever to figure out what was going on. I started with a partner, Zeke. I did the programming and he took care of droid maintenance and upkeep of other systems that the maintenance droids can't take care of. He also kept an eye on the marks as a background character, keeping his distance. Zeke passed away two years ago." He sighed with a wince. "Best friends since secondary school."
         Marvel took a sip of brew. "I'll give you fifty percent of what was in the contract and you keep your cargo. You keep your mouths shut."
         Magnus leaned back in his seat. "I have a better idea." He gestured at Horris. "You take us on as partners, Horris is great at maintenance and repair of any kind of equipment. He can get all of your droids back to where they should be. I'm guessing you got a lot of new model full-body background players out of service or operating at limited capability. I can keep an eye on the rubes as they arrive and make sure things are on track. You keep fifty percent and we split the other fifty percent."
         Marvel studied their faces for a moment. "There are a lot of droids out of service or not working quite right. This could work for all three of us; sounds good to me."
         Magnus smiled. "How many suckers you take in a year?"
         "Between thirty or forty. You'll be filthy rich in less than a year."
         Magnus looked at Horris with a nod. "You in? It's a scam but it's darn near legal and it's a sure thing. Ain't nobody gonna figure out what's going on. Especially with you bringing all the droids back to full life."
         Horris looked to Marvel. "We get the breakfast buffet every day?"
         "Absolutely. We can set it up in the executive dining room."





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