Maximillian Hale sat in bed, coughed into his white handkerchief, and glared at the large, wooden door. He was not blaming the door for his woes, merely hoping it might provide a solution. As if answering the unspoken request, the door creaked open and in stepped a young man, dressed in a medical outfit. Hale eyed the man with both relief and suspicion.

“Doctor Livingstone?”

“You presume?” the doctor asked with a smile.

“What?”

“Skip it. No one gets that reference anymore.”

“You’re early.” Hale said, giving no indication whether this was good or bad.

If this fact bothered the doctor, he did not show it. With scruffy, light brown hair, and a thick mat of facial hair framing his mouth, he looked more suited for a jungle then any infirmary.

“Of course I’m early!” the doctor said with a toothy grin. “I got on the first shuttle from Balsilide, faster then light all the way! Just hit the spaceport a few minutes ago. Anything for a high priority case such as yourself.”

“Oh, well I guess I approve.” Hale said with a hint of smugness, forgetting he was supposed to be sick.

“Of course you do. Now, let’s get a look at you.”

With a flourish, the doctor pulled a small handheld device from his jacket pocket and aimed it at Hale.

“What is that?” Hale asked in surprise, recoiling from the strange object.

“Relax.” the doctor said in soothing tones. “This is the latest, all-purpose, bona fide, electrified, three-point, full body scanner. Complete with full upgrade. Top of the line!”

“I see.” Hale replied, sliding back into his bed.

With a flick of a button, the doctor activated the device. Instantly, a grid of red beams fell over Hale, scanning every inch of his body. After a few seconds, the device made a series of distressed beeps. A reading popped up on the back of the device, which the doctor read.

“What is it doctor?” Hale asked. “Is it serious? Fatal?”

 “Shhhh.” the doctor replied, retiring the device back in his jacket. “All in good time. As I always say, patience makes the best patients.”

Hale did not seem satisfied with this response, and coughed deliberately, as to remind the doctor why he was here. In response, the doctor rummaged through a nearby set of drawers, until he removed a small wooden stick.

“Now open wide!” the doctor said, shoving the stick down his patients’ throat.

Hale gagged in protest, but the doctor paid no heed. He merely checked his watch and, after only a few seconds, removed the stick.

“What was that for?” Hale said, this time coughing for real.

“Oh, I could explain it,” the doctor replied, pocketing the stick, “but that would take time away from my doctoring! Now lay still, only a few more tests.”

Without giving Hale anytime to protest, the doctor administered a bevy of exams, using a wide variety of instruments. Within a few minutes, he declared himself done.

“Done? Already?” Hale asked in surprise. “What’s your diagnosis?”

“Oh, dreadful I’m afraid.” The doctor replied gravely. “You’ve got everything from Iupac, to Hypochondritis!”

“I see.” Hale lied. “What can you do about it?”

“Well, nothing right now.”

“What? Why not?”

“See this medicine here?” the doctor said, throwing open a few more drawers to emphasize his point. “This medicine is woefully out of date. It’s doing more harm then good!”

Without warning, the doctor began shoveling the medicine into a nearby bag, sparing nothing.

“You know,” Hale said, “when I requested the finest doctor in the sector, I expected someone…”

“Older? Taller? Uglier?” the doctor suggested, not turning around.

“More professional.”

“Well, you know what they say.” the doctor said with a chuckle, still rummaging. “Laughter is the best medicine!”

“Who says that?”

“Healthy people say that.” the doctor replied, sealing his bag and standing up.

Hale watched in befuddlement as the doctor quickly headed for the door, bag in hand.

“Now you just wait here,” the doctor said, “I’ll have somebody check on you in a minute.”

And with that, the doctor had disappeared behind the large wooden doors. Hale slumped back in his bed, stunned by what had happened. He waited for a minute, then five, then ten. While Hale was fuming, his door swung open once more. This time, an old man with grey hair entered the room, wearing identical medicinal gear.

“Mr. Hale? I’m Dr. Livingstone. I’m the doctor the college sent from Balsilide.”

“You’re Dr. Livingstone? But I… He…” Hale stammered, slowly making sense of the day’s events.

“Is everything alright Mr. Hale?”

 “Imposter!” Hale shouted. “He was an imposter! Thief! Someone, stop that man!”

*

Matthew Olsen ran through the city streets, imagining the screams that must be coming from Hale’s room. The job he had just pulled had been executed perfectly, even by his lofty standards, and he allowed himself a few seconds to savor the thrill of a successful con. It was these moments, after all, that made life worth living. When he was done congratulating himself, he gazed up at the surrounding skyscrapers, getting a feel for his surroundings. He rarely visited Myoria, the capital city of the Human Coalition, but every time he had come had been quite memorable. He had a feeling this visit would be no exception.

“Alright Matt, you got your goods, now how are you going to get out of here?” He muttered, patting his bag securely.

The quantity of medicine packed inside the bag could fetch millions on the black market, but only if he got them off planet. Sirens from behind him forced Matt to turn his mind away from his loot and back to reality. He could hear at least three police Cruisers heading his way, but pessimistically assumed four.

“That old guy had good connections.” Matt said as the four Cruisers appeared behind a corner. “I knew he was rich, but this is just obscene.”

Matt instinctively hugged his bag closer and bolted down the nearest alleyway. He quickly discarded his medical costume, including the barcode scanner that had served as a pseudo-body scanner. With every turn he glanced back, expecting to see the cops flying towards him.

While flying cars had never become practical for everyday use, the concept of non-wheeled transportation had been utilized by the military and, most recently, the police force of all major human controlled planets. The Cruisers sailed silently over traffic, upsetting more then a few commuters in the process.

Cruisers were the pride and joy of the Myoria Police department, and were separated into two main sections. The rear of the craft had remained the same throughout the decades, and force fields and laser bars could keep prisoners confined in the back for as long as needed. The front half, however, was where the proverbial magic happened. The forward section of the Cruiser could split from the rear, and act as two Pods, each controlled by the officer aboard. Little more then a casing for the pilot, the Pods could cruse at heights of fifteen feet, and could navigate areas no more then six feet wide, such as the alley Matt now occupied. Matt knew all this, having experience with Cruisers, both in and out of the back seat, and had not entered the alleyway to escape. At least, not in the conventional sense.

“Thanks to Myoria’s finest, looks like I’m going with plan B. Not even really sure why I make a plan A anymore.” He said to himself, searching vainly down every alleyway and corridor.

Ask anyone who knew Matt, and they would give you a list of faults and shortcomings. Matt, however, admitted to only one vice. He had an awful tendency to talk to himself. Part of it was how favorable he found it to hear his own voice. Most of it, however, was that hearing his words out loud gave him the ability to focus on the situation better then if he was thinking quietly.

“I know it’s hear somewhere. I just can’t remember… Are those sirens getting louder? Bah, no time to worry about that now. Hey, that alleyway looks familiar! Oh, that’s because I ran down it half a minute ago. Great job Matt, now you’re completely lost, and those sirens are definitely getting closer!”

With the image of handcuffs placed firmly in his mind, he stumbled through the narrow alleys. As the population of Myopia had grown and grown, the city had quickly run out of space to house the growing billions. When the city could no longer expand horizontally, it grew vertically. As such, towering skyscrapers, packed to the brim with low cost, practical housing dotted the Myopian skyline. Matt now scanned the street for three of these buildings that would suit his need. As he searched, he brought his wrist up to his mouth and spoke into a watch like device.

“Oh darling?” Matt said, “Are you up there?”

“Of course Matt.” Responded a melodic female voice from his wrist. “How are you doing?”

“Better, now that I hear your voice. Sadly, plan A and have hit unforeseen snags. I’m now moving on to the equally brilliant plan B!”

“An excellent idea.” came the approving voice through the speakers. “Where would you like it?”

“Sending the co-ordinates now.” Matt said, quickly typing numbers into the devices holographic keyboard.

“Received.” The voice replied. “Plan B is on its way.”

“Thanks doll! See you soon!”

Matt put away his device and analyzed the three buildings in front of him. He knew that breaking into any of them would set of an alarm, alerting the police to his location. With that in mind, he proceeded to break down the door of all three buildings, setting off a trio of alarms. Picking a building to enter at random, he rushed inside and bolted up the stairs.

Not risking his luck with the high-speed elevator, Matt sprinted up the stairs two steps at a time. He surrendered a few seconds to look out the fifth floor window to check on his impromptu plan. The eight officers had arrived on the scene, exited their pods, and were now analyzing the three buildings in front of them. With all three alarms blaring, there was no way for them to know which building Matt had gone in. They quickly split up, with two officers going in the leftmost building, three in the middle building, and three in the right building, the one Matt had chosen.

Matt dared a smile and continued his ascent. He had managed to get the number of officers on his tail down to only three, and with now a ten-floor head start, he decided to relax a bit. His relief was short lived, as a whooshing sound from below him caused his heart to sink. A quick look over the railing confirmed his fears.

“Jetpacks,” He muttered. “Attachable jetpacks. At least I know where all my tax money goes.”

The officers, soaring upwards through the center of the stairwell, noticed Matt peering over the edge. With a shout, they launched towards him.

“Grep!” Matt swore, looking around for any means of escape. What he spied was the twelfth floor entrance to the high-speed elevator. With a burst of speed, he erased the

short distance between himself and the entrance, and pried the door open. The officers, however, had caught up to him, and had their guns aimed at his back.

“Stop! In the name of the law!” the lead officer shouted.

Slowly, Matt turned abound, holding his arms and the bag of medicine over his head.

“Does that ever work?” he said with a smile.

The officer looked puzzled until he heard a distant rumbling coming up from the open elevator shaft. It didn’t take him long to anticipate what Matt was going to do.

“Don’t jump! There’s a car coming!” the officer shouted in vain.

Matt smiled again, and prepared to jump into the elevator shaft as the car approached. The officers, not at all confused about what would happen when a 100mph elevator car met a human body, shut their eyes from the impending horror. All they could hear was the roar of the car passing by and a blood-curdling scream. When they reopened their eyes, all was silent, save for the diminishing rumble of the car.

“What was he thinking?” the first officer asked, catching his breath. “Leaping out in front of an elevator car like that?”

“What that must have done to him… I don’t even want to think about it.” the second officer said.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t bare to watch.” the third and youngest officer added, resisting the urge to evacuate his stomach.

“It’s all right, none of us could,” said the lead officer. “Come on, let’s see if we can retrieve any of the goods.”

The three officers used their jetpacks to lazily enter the still open elevator shaft.

“He must have been crazy.” the lead officer murmured.

“I’ve been called worse.”

The three officers spun to face Matt, holding on to the medicine bag with one hand, and a steel pipe with the other. Utilizing his considerable strength, an excellent sense of timing, and some luck, he had leapt into the elevator shaft immediately after it had passed by. An acted scream, one he was quite proud of, gave the illusion that he had jumped to early and been hit by the car.

Now the officers were in position for the next stage of his plan. He leapt from the pole, grabbing on to the nearest officer. With quick dexterity, he undid the strap of the jetpack, and removed it from the unlucky officer. The officer began to free-fall, forcing his friends to ignore Matt and catch their comrade. Making sure he never let go of the jetpack or his medicine bag, he attached the jetpack to himself and blasted up the elevator shaft

“Sir, are you alright?” the younger officer said to his now helpless commanding officer.

“Yes, I’m fine. Put me down on the ground, do your job, and arrest that man!”

Matt heard the two officers below him kick their jetpacks into high gear and once more began to worry.

“Oh, I sure hope plan B is ready.” he said, eyeing the final floor exit still far ahead.

Suddenly, the elevator shaft went quiet apart from the sound of his own jetpack. Cautiously, he looked below to find that he was no longer being chased.

“Has my luck finally turned?” He asked the air.

He was answered from above by the sound of an elevator car quickly making its way down the shaft towards him.

“Ah Grep, I should’ve known.” He muttered, launching himself up.

As he flew, his mind analyzed the situation. Obviously one of the officers, probably the captain, had signaled for the car to return to a lower floor, with the intent being for it to crush Matt on its way down. He looked for the nearest exit, still a floor ahead. With his arms folded back, Matt shot forward, blasting through the exit with only inches to spare.

Matt checked his leading shoulder for damage, but found nothing injured. The same could not be said for his jetpack, which had broken upon landing. With reluctance, he took it off and threw it aside. A loud roar from beneath him let him know that the officers did not share the same problems. Matt quickly ran the last few floors to the roof, bursting through the door just seconds before the officers followed.

“Halt! Surrender your stolen goods at once!” one of the officers said, entering the rooftop with his gun raised. His partner was right behind him, weapon in hand.

“I’d rather not, if it’s all the same to you.” Matt replied.

As he talked, Matt inched closer and closer to the edge of the building, keeping his hands above his head at all times.

“If you do not surrender, we will be forced to shoot you, and these guns are not set on stun!”

“You’re going to kill me?” Matt replied, now at the edge. “Well, let me save you the trouble.”

Without hesitation, Matt took another step backwards off the edge. For what seemed like eternity, he fell through the city air. He shut his eyes, sure that his plan had failed and he was about to meet his end. Then, just when it seemed impossible, he landed on a pile of soft cushions, about a hundred feet off of the ground. The cushions had been laid out inside of a small shuttle, whose open hatch Matt had just fallen through.

None of this surprised Matt in the slightest. He himself had placed those cushions there just hours earlier, and had arranged for the shuttle to be beneath him. It wasn’t his first escape plan, but he always made sure he had a couple of backup’s waiting. In this case, the shuttle had been plan B.

“Good old Pinnacle No.3.” Matt said, patting the ship fondly. “Boy, are you a sight for soar eyes!”

There were few things in Matt’s life that he was more proud of then the Pinnacles. A series of five modified escape pods, Matt had upgraded the tiny ships using his own personal schematics. The crafts were fast, agile and well armored. This hadn’t been the first time that the one of the ships had maneuvered through small areas, but that hadn’t stopped Matt from being a little nervous about the success of his plan. Now that it had worked, he was in his own ship, and the police were a distant memory.

Or so he thought.

He leaned back in the pilot’s chair and sighed as the distant sounds of sirens confirmed what the on-board sensors had already told him. Three police cruisers, new ones, were closing in on his position.

“Alright baby, let’s show them what you can do.” Matt said, patting the little ship affectionately on the console.

The ship responded by launching into the sky with surprising speed. Still, there were very few atmospheric vessels that could outrun a police cruiser, and the Pinnacle 3 was not one of them. And even if it could, there would be nowhere to run.

“Oh sweetie? You there?” Matt said, once more brining out his watch.

“Yes Matt, I’m always here for you,” replied the sweet voice.

“I’m assuming that the Net is up?”

“That’s correct Matt. It went up a few minutes ago.”

The Net was the latest and greatest in anti-criminal technology. Once space travel became common, thieves had a tendency to steal something, and then hide in the infinite blackness of space. If a criminal managed to leave a sector with stolen goods, there was virtually nothing the authorities could do to find him or stop them. The response to that by the Myopian government was the Net. The Net was a giant web of electromagnetic energy, which no ship could pass through. In the case of a major crime, such as the one Matt had just committed, the Net would be erected with the touch of a button. While it was up, nothing electronic was getting out of the atmosphere, including the Pinnicle 3.

Matt was well acquainted with the Net, and knew that it would be activated as soon as they found out he stole something so valuable. He also knew it was useless to try to fly though it, which meant it was time for plan C. With newfound urgency, he aimed the little ship away from the city and stepped on the gas pedal. The Cruisers continued their chase, slowly narrowing the gap between them and Matt.

“You still there, beautiful?” Matt said into his watch.

“Yes dear, what do you need?”

“Going to try that little trick I told you about. Giving you the co-ordinates now, don’t leave anything in the tank.”

“Yes, honey. Good luck!”

Matt smiled, and attached a small black device to the console of the ship, then headed towards the back. He carefully strapped on a backpack, and began looking around the ship.

“Distraction, distraction, gonna need a distraction…”

Suddenly, he eyed the pile of cushions he had used for a landing pad, and smiled. One by one, he began shoveling the cushions into the main engine intake. In the Cruisers, the police stared in amazement as black smoke began to billow from the small crafts’ engine. As they closed in around the ship, the officers continued to watch as the Pinnacle 3 coughed, sputtered, and began to stall. Then, just when it seemed doomed to crash, the smoke stopped and the craft once more took off into the distance.

It took only a few minutes for the police to catch the craft for good. When their calls for surrender went unanswered, they proceeded to shoot out the engines of the fleeing ship. The ship landed roughly, tumbling through the dirt before finally coming to a stop. The officers, no longer taking any chances, got out and surrounded the wrecked craft.

“Come out with your hands up, and we will not shoot you.” the police Captain said, his gun trained at the ships’ door.

“Sir, I’m reading no life signs inside.” One of the officers said. “I think he’s dead.”

“Good riddance.” the Captain replied, holstering his gun.

The officers slowly filed into the ship, scanning the interior of the ship for both the pilot and his stolen cargo. Much to their surprise, they found neither.

“Sir, the only thing we discovered was this device we found on the console.”

The officer held up a small black device for the Captain to see, and the elder officer recognized it immediately.

“Why, it’s a remote control device. But why…”

Suddenly, everything began to make sense for the police Captain, and he didn’t like any of it.

“He bailed.” The Captain said, beginning to pace. “That black smoke was a distraction which he used to jump from his ship. Lieutenant! What were we passing over when his ship started to break down?”

“We were directly over the supply docks, sir.”

The supply docks were used to deliver food and other necessities up to the many space stations that orbited Myoria. The supplies were packed into 10’x10’ titanium boxes, then shot into orbit towards waiting space stations. The operation was simple and required only a few employees on site. Once launched, there was no way to control the flight of the supply boxes, as they were no more then metal bullets.

“The supply docks?” The captain wondered aloud. “Why would he…? Oh Grep.”

“Sir?”

“Get me a line to the supply docks! Find out if anything has happened there!”

“Actually sir, we’re just getting a report from there now. Seems like one of their men got knocked out. And I’m being told that one of the supply boxes was emptied.”

“Stolen?”

“No, just emptied. All of the supplies were just left on the floor.”

“Grep! Lieutenant, what was the serial number of the emptied box?”

“Give me a second… 4N51701FY, sir!”

“And where is that box now?”

“It was supposed to go to the space station Eclipse, but they never got it.”

“Sir! A ship just uncloaked and left the sector. Without proper authorization.” Another officer said nervously.

“A ship? Let me guess, it was positioned directly over the shipping docks.”

“Yes sir.” The officer replied, checking his notes. “About 200 miles up.”

The Captain spent the next few minutes swearing at the sky. He knew that it would be almost impossible to retrieve the stolen goods now that the criminal had gotten a head start. The medicine was gone, the criminal was gone, and there was nothing the police Captain could do but scream.

*

Matthew Olsen screamed. He screamed through the darkness and he screamed through the deafening noise that surrounded him inside the cargo box. He screamed because there was nothing else he could do. His part in the operation had come to an end when he had knocked out the launch operator, emptied the cargo box and climbed inside.

As there was no electronics in the box itself, it could easily pass through the Net,

but that was only the beginning of his vertical journey.

Using all of his strength, Matt brought his watch to his face, and continued to scream. He could not form words, and they wouldn’t be heard over all the noise anyway, so he could only hope his message was understood. He didn’t have to wait long, as within seconds the noise began to lessen as the box slowed down. Not being able to see anything inside the container, Matt could only imagine the tow beam grabbing hold of the box and bringing it on board. With a hiss of pneumatics, the lid on the box popped open, and Matt crawled out onto the cargo bay door. On shaky legs, he dragged himself over to the pilot’s chair and flopped down on it, exhausted.

“Honey, I’m home!” He said in a raspy voice. “Did you miss me?”

“Of course I did, Matt.” the on board computer replied in the same melodic female tones that had earlier come through Matt’s watch. “Did you have a nice trip?”

“A nice trip?” Matt said with a laugh. “I can’t believe I survived it!”

“You doubted that it would work?” The ship replied. “There was no reason it wouldn’t. Livestock is often transported through cargo boxes to the various orbiting restaurants. There was no reason a human could not be transported as well.”

“I knew it should work in theory, but I learned long ago that practice is much different then theory.”

“Do you not trust my processor? I should remind you that you built it yourself. If I come to a wrong conclusion, you have no one to blame but yourself.”

“‘I have no one to blame but myself.’ Well, wouldn’t that just look great on my tombstone?”

“I fail to see how…”

“Never mind. I see you’ve taken us out of the sector?”

“Yes Matt. We are on route to Zambal, as you requested.”

“Good. Let me know when we get there.

Matt smiled and got to his feet. He gave the stolen bag a quick look, making sure nothing had happened to it during the day’s events. After he was satisfied that the medicine was still intact, he grabbed a pillow and headed to his room for a quick nap. It had been a busy day, and it wasn’t over yet.

*

“We cannot thank you enough for what you’ve done!”

“Just glad I could help Ms. James.”

“Please, call me Megan.”

Matt smiled warmly as he handed over the medicine bag to the woman sitting across from him. Young, passionate and beautiful, Megan James was the leader of the Zambalan colony. Settled only three years ago, Zambal was the youngest colony in the Human Coalition, and one of the furthest from Earth. The jungle world of Zambal had showed much promise as a place to live, but its beauty was matched only by its dangers.

“Once I saw what that plague had done to your people, Megan, I just had to use my considerable talents as a thief and a general troublemaker to help,” Matt said. “Being able to steal from an egotistical hypochondriac was just a bonus.”

“Still, there are a lot of people who wouldn’t have done anything.” Megan said, grabbing the bag tightly. “The Coalition, for example.

“The Coalition just think of you as a mark on the wrong side of the budget sheet.” Matt replied. “If there’s one thing you can rely on, it’s not being able to rely on the Coalition.”

“Well then, it’s a good thing there are people like you then. You’ve saved our colony with this medicine.” Megan said, smiling warmly.

“I hate to say this,” Matt said, getting to his feet, “but my motives were not purely altruistic. There’s still a little matter of my payment.”

“I’m afraid we have no money to offer.” Megan replied, worried.

“Oh,” Matt replied, licking his lips, “I wasn’t thinking about money.”

*

Matt leaned back and took a long drink from his bottle. Zamberry Wine, the drink for which Zambal was named for, had quickly become the most sought after drink in the galaxy. The twenty cases of it sitting in Matt’s cargo bay would satisfy him for years, but the bottle he had now was reward for a job well done. A rich man got robbed, the police were left confused and angry, and a struggling colony got much needed medicine. Yes, altogether it had been a good day for Matthew Olsen. With a smile, he now headed once more to the stars, in search for what tomorrow might bring.