Stellar Objects

Chapter 20: Money and Run

Shakes had seen plenty of corpses in his travels, but none like this.

Life on the road, travelling from town to town, pitching tent and mounting shows night after night, had given Shakes a perspective on the cruelty of life...and certainty of death. He'd seen bodies piled up from disease and roads littered with dehydrated corpses. He'd once played opposite an actor who'd died on stage in the middle of a speech. Apparently, he'd eaten some bad samosas before the show.

The only solace he took was that his namesake, William Shakespeare, didn't have it any easier. Shakes may have grown up in the slums of New Sydney, but ol' Bill entertained the Elizabethan masses in not-so jolly old England, distracting them from disease and poverty. And while most of the masses on modern Earth preferred to plug themselves into viseo games to get away from the real world, many couldn't afford the lecky any more so Shakes' brand of travelling theatre troupe was all the distraction they could get. And he was a master of distraction.

As he looked over the Eyptian kid's dead granddad, he couldn't believe his luck. Just hours ago, he was locked behind bars, aboard a decrepit police ship, and now he was one shuttle blast away from freedom. He'd convinced the naïve police woman and the bleeding-heart slaves, that saving the lives of a bunch of sick kids they'd never met was a mission worth risking their necks for. There's a sucker born every minute, Saint Barnum once said. And Shakes was surrounded by suckers.

"I need to borrow some money," said Rys to his dead ancestor.

"Borrow," scoffed Shakes. "More like grave rob."

"Respect, please," said Rys, stroking the stone coffin.

"Respectfully," said Andra. "Where's the money?"

Shakes smiled. He liked this girl. She got it. Maybe she wasn't a sucker after-all.

"Give me a hand?" asked Rys.

The entitled Egyptian reached his hands into the coffin and gripped the body, like he was giving the dead man a hug. But Shakes understood. They were going to carry the corpse. Shakes took the legs, and together they hoisted the mummy out of his final resting place.

"That's it," said Rys, "now carefully—"

But the body twisted in Shakes' hands. He lost his grip on the remains. The weight of the mummy must've been too much for little Rys because its torso slipped out of his grandson's grasp. In an instant, the once glorious governor of Egyptia hit the stone floor and smashed into pieces.

Shakes held his hands up, renouncing responsibility. "It was an accident!"

"You disrespectful human!!" cursed Rys.

Andra looked at the shattered remains and wondered aloud, "maybe we can put him back together? You know, like a puzzle."

"You must've played some pretty sick games on that rubbish heap of yours," Shakes said.

Rys stood over his decimated granddad and said, "this was my mistake, grandfather. I should have never brought these humans to your sacred chamber."

Strangely, Shakes felt bad for the little gypti. He had no home, and was actually trying to do something good in a universe overpopulated with bad.

"It wasn't your mistake," Shakes said. "I wasn't being careful enough. And I'm sorry, I really am. You're doing a good thing, and—"

Shakes stopped himself mid-sentence. He'd disrespected this little Egyptian and his ancestor, but why? Shakes didn't want to admit it was jealousy. He was envious that this kid had a link to his past, whereas Shakes' parents had sold him into slavery, cutting him off from whatever family he supposed used to have.

"And," Shakes continued, "I think he'd be really proud of you, wherever his soul is now."

Rys stood still, looking over the smashed remains. He hung his head, and Shakes thought he could see his lips moving silently.

Then he looked up and spoke. "He's passed into the next world and has no need for these mortal remains in the glorious after-world."

"Okay," said Andra. "But Shakes, you owe him one."

She leaned over into the coffin and started feeling around. Andra pulled at something and Shakes helped her pull up a false bottom. They yanked up three planks of wood, revealing a space below that, in the light of their torches, glimmered with gold.

"And does he need these, in the glorious afterlife?" asked Andra.

Shakes ran his hand over the cache of coins. He pulled one out; a pure gold coin with and an image of two eyes on one side and another single eye on the reverse. It was Martian gold. He knew it was blood money, stolen during Egytpia's invasion and conquering of Mars.

Shakes put the coin to his mouth and bit. He wanted to taste the gold. This coffin was stuffed full of it and that much money could buy more than freedom; it could buy power.

"We grab it all and make a run for it!" he declared.

"What?!" snapped Andra.

Rys reached out and snatched the coin from Shakes' hand. "This is sacred gold."

Andra wasn't finished with her outrage. "I can't believe you'd actually consider—"

Shakes reached in and grabbed a handful of the ill-gotten coins. "This is stolen gold. Martian. Blood money. The Egyptian empire pillaged more planets than there are coins in this coffin, so don't you ever pull 'sacred' on me, prince-boy. But it's still gold, pure and valuable. We can take it, trade it, or melt it down, and be free."

"We can't," said Andra. Maybe she really was a sucker. "We made a promise."

"This money is to help the sick children," said Rys.


 Shakes scoffed at this. "The Captain said it himself. They're gonna die some day anyway."

"But you were ill, Shakes," said Andra. "At Our Lady Of Saturn and the Captain saved you. Now it's your turn to help."

A sucker born every minute.

Shakes took a bow. 
"I acted; recounted a story I'd heard on the road. I made the Captain believe what he wanted to believe, to get off his rickety boat."

"You're that foul?" asked Andra, though Shakes knew it wasn't really a question. It was a shame she didn't seen his genius. He'd orchestrated to get off the ship, with a shuttle, a pilot, and now a tomb full of money.

"No, I'm that good," said Shakes. "Now c'mon, let's go. Us three; a clean break. New start."

"Maybe he's got a point," said Rys. The Egyptian was clearly considering the option. His home planet had fallen to the Enemy, he'd been caught, enslaved by the Galactic Navy, and his very rich grandfather had just opened up the family purse. This kid had nothing to lose.

"And the point is freedom," Shakes said, hoping to make it two against one.

But Andra crossed her arms and shook her head. "I'm not going anywhere without George."

"Fine," said Shakes. "Just me and the triangle king. Right? You and me; shoppin' spree?"

But Rys stepped back and joined Andra. "This may be blood money, but we're going to use it for good, not greed."

Shakes couldn't believe it. "By giving it to a smuggler who stole the meds in the first place, and will keep on stealing unless—"

"Unless we stop him," said Andra.

"Yes," agreed Rys. "If we hand over my grandfather's gold, he'll just keep stealing and smuggling."

"Then I know just the place," said Andra, "to put him out of business."

"That it should come to this," said Shakes, throwing up his hands.

"And you can put your acting skills to use," added Andra. "Now let's bag this gold and get to the shuttle."

"Who put her in charge?" Shakes asked the Egyptian.

"She did," Rys replied.

The Egyptian was right. Their little world was a stage, and Andra was clearly the director.