A Fistful of Trouble (Outlaws of the Galaxy Book 2) by Paul Tomlinson (books on motivation TXT) 📗

otherwise it was empty. My wrists were in steel manacles, held above my head by a chain that was fastened to a loop in the ceiling.

“Did you really think you could get away?” Colonel Hodge asked.

“No, but I felt obligated to try,” I said.

“Had you succeeded, it would have meant the deaths of two more of my men. Do you want that on your conscience?”

“That doesn’t seem to worry you,” I said. “How many deaths have you been responsible for? A dozen? A hundred?”

“Leaders of men must accept many responsibilities – including choices of life or death.”

“I would never be comfortable with that.”

“Some men are destined to be leaders – to be kings – while others are merely followers or fools. You, I am afraid to say, fall into the latter category.”

“You’re not the first person to say that.”

“I have encountered many fools in my time. You are one of the most persistent – and the most annoying.”

“If you’re going to be a fool, be the best fool that you can be.”

“Bravo, Quincy. That’s the spirit. In recognition of your achievements, I’m going to award you a special honour. I shall crown you King of Fools.”

He went over to a workbench and picked up a stainless steel ring a bit over a foot in diameter with four bolts screwed into it. Rising around this ‘crown’ at equal intervals were five cylinders that looked suspiciously like explosive rifle cartridges.

“This is modelled after a device that was used by surgeons long ago,” the Colonel said. “They used it to stop their patients moving. I have a similar purpose in mind. It is primitive but effective.”

He placed the metal ring on my head. The four bolts were cold against my skull. The bolts had little wings on them so they could be tightened by hand. The Colonel began tightening them. The bolts dug into my skin. On one side I felt blood trickle down my forehead. The pain was intense, but nothing like the pressure the robot had applied to that poor man’s skull.

“How is it sitting?” the Colonel asked.

“It’s a little heavy.”

“A crown always is.” He stepped back to admire his handiwork. “Individually, those charges won’t do much more than give you a headache. But if they are detonated together, they will take the top off your skull and scramble its contents.”

“Just do it,” I said.

“You think I’m here to kill you? No, no. That’s for tomorrow. I have a little job for you first. This is just to make sure you behave. I’m sure you can guess how it works.”

“You have a remote control to detonate it.”

The Colonel nodded.

“If I tamper with it, it will explode.”

Another nod.

“And you’re going to keep me chained up so I can’t deliberately tamper with it and kill myself.”

“Top marks. You missed dinner, I’m afraid. Can I get you anything?”

“A bottle of cola and a very long straw,” I said.

The Colonel looked down at the concrete floor and then back up to my face. He laughed. “I do admire your spirit, Quincy. The council meeting is scheduled for nine o’clock tomorrow morning. You should try and get some rest.”

“Could you get someone to bring me another pillow?” I said.

Colonel Hodge wandered out laughing. He was easily amused.

I hung there in the semi-darkness wondering whether the lump on my forehead was bigger than the one on the back of my skull. They were throbbing in counterpoint. Sadly, the pain of one didn’t cancel out the other. It just felt like my head was being kicked backwards and forwards.

Despite the pain and the awkward position, I somehow managed to dose off. I’m not sure how long I was unconscious. The sound that had woken me came again – a key in the lock. Surely it couldn’t be morning already? Perhaps it was someone bringing my pillow.

When the person entered and walked into my field of vision, it was the person I least expected to see there. If it had been Bertie the Bear himself, I would have been less surprised. She was wearing shapeless oily overalls and her hair was tucked into a greasy cap. She must have been moving about the compound pretending to be one of the support staff.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

“Sneaking around,” Harmony said. “What’s that on your head?”

“It’s my crown.”

“You look ridiculous.” She took a step closer. “Is that blood?”

“Just a flesh wound.”

“Let’s get that thing off you.”

“No, no, no! Don’t touch it. It will explode.”

“You mean I could lose a hand?” she asked, backing away.

“Yes. And I could lose a head,” I said. “How did you get here?”

“The same way as you.” She looked around the room and then went to examine the equipment on the table.

“I thought you were in the middle of the desert somewhere,” I said.

“What? Oh, no,” she said. “I jettisoned the pod to make Casey think I was gone. But I stayed on the freighter. Why have they done this to you?”

“I tried to escape.”

“Oh. What else have I missed?”

“Not much. The Colonel is going to torture me to death.”

“Haven’t they started that yet?”

I shook my head. “I think the Colonel’s struggling to come up with something nasty enough.”

“Some men have no imagination. I made some calls,” she said, “an old friend is going to drive your Trekker back to town.”

“He doesn’t have the keys.”

“He doesn’t need keys.”

“How do you know he won’t just steal it?”

“If he does, I told him I’d hunt him down and neuter him.”

“And he believed you meant it?”

“I did mean it.”

“This is the second time you’ve rescued me,” I said.

“What? Oh, this isn’t a rescue,” she said.

“It isn’t? Why not?”

“I don’t want them to know I’m here.”

“What are you planning to do?”

“I was going to blow the container up, but they’ve taken the robots out of it.”

“They’ve all been activated?”

“Yep. They’re marching around like creepy tin soldiers.”

“There must be some way to stop them. Or at least delay them,” I said.

“I’m sure you’ll come up with something. I’ll leave