Mr. Taxi

By J.S. Frankel

Harry Yumel, rebellious teen, is stuck driving a space taxi for the inhabitants of the universe. Saddled with a huge debt, hating his life on the spaceport where he lives, he is offered a chance to smuggle items by Shayala—call me Shay—the beautiful leader of a black market ring. Knowing that the sentence for getting caught is death, he nevertheless takes a chance, and soon finds himself top dog in the space taxi business. However, things are never what they seem. Harry finds out that Shay is secretly a government operative trying to find out the real leader who is behind the black market. He also learns that this mystery man is building a weapon of unimaginable power that could rip the fabric of the universe apart. When Shay goes missing, Harry has to journey to the end of the galaxy and face off against a fearsome foe that holds the power of life and death in the palm of his hand.

• Language: English
• Publisher: eXtasy Books Inc
• Release date: Sep 1, 2015
• ISBN: 9781487404123

Book preview

Space may be the final frontier, but for Harry Yumel, he’s about to go beyond it.

Harry Yumel, rebellious teen, is stuck driving a space taxi for the inhabitants of the universe. Saddled with a huge debt, hating his life on the spaceport where he lives, he is offered a chance to smuggle items by Shayala—call me Shay—the beautiful leader of a black-market ring. Knowing that the sentence for getting caught is death, he nevertheless takes a chance, and soon finds himself top dog in the space taxi business. However, things are never what they seem. Harry finds out that Shay is secretly a government operative trying to find out the real leader who is behind the black market. He also learns that this mystery man is building a weapon of unimaginable power that could rip the fabric of the universe apart. When Shay goes missing, Harry has to journey to the end of the galaxy and face off against a fearsome foe that holds the power of life and death in the palm of his hand.

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Mr. Taxi

Copyright © 2015 J.S. Frankel

ISBN: 978-1-4874-0412-3

Cover art by Carmen Waters

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

Published by eXtasy Books Inc or

Devine Destinies, an imprint of eXtasy Books Inc

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Smashwords Edition

Mr. Taxi

By

J.S. Frankel

Dedication

To my wife, Akiko, and to my children, Kai and Ray—they make every day my greatest adventure. And to my sister Nancy, who has never given up on me and who has supported me every step of the way.

Chapter One: Who needs a ride?

Hey, anyone want a taxi? I yelled out. C’mon, I’m free!

My voice carried over the distance of the waiting line. It had probably carried beyond, but with all the noise coming from the machinery, crafts and people there, doubtful anyone heard it or bothered listening. The Departure Bay buzzed about in a constant state of activity full of various forms of life, vehicles being moved into position, techs and shuttle drivers barking orders. It was just another busy day on Star Port One.

My call for a customer went out again and that earned me a lot of dirty looks. Wait your turn, Earthman, someone said.

The speaker turned away, a sneer forming on his face as he did so. Being called an Earthman didn’t bother me anymore although it used to, but that was three months and two weeks ago. Picking me out of a lineup was easy. Outside of my dispatcher, Rhody Masterson, I was the only other human on this star port. Let’s face it, someone who was tall, slender, with green eyes, brown hair and fair skin would always be marked as different.

Okay, we all looked different, but according to them I looked more different than most. Anyone want a cab? I asked once more and tried very hard to keep the desperation out of my voice.

Shut your mouth, Earthman, one of the other cabbies said. We don’t want to hear your braying all the time.

You’d think they’d have learned who I was by now... but no. I have a name. It’s Harry, Harry Yumel.

We don’t care, another driver piped up, his voice raw and angry, probably from talking all day. Actually, all night, as we worked in space and here it was perpetually dark. Shut your mouth and wait your turn.

Okay, they didn’t like my attitude. We all knew the code. A star-driver never called for service. He had to wait until the dispatcher called his name. Screw waiting, I need a fare now! Okay, one more time for good luck. Anyone need a cab? I called out in the cheeriest voice imaginable.

A chorus of voices answered me. Wait your turn!

With a sigh, I turned my gaze to the invisible energy barrier that separated the human and inhuman elements from the cold depths of space, and looked at the uninhabited mini-moon of Endau. Everyone used Endau as a guidepost to find their way back here. The orb and I had become close buddies my first few weeks here. In fact, outside of Rhody, it became my only friend.

What could I say? Three months-plus ago I’d been leading my usual run-of-the-mill and oh-so-boring life in Tacoma, working at a part-time job and wondering where I’d go from there. In the year 2054, jobs on Earth were hard to come by. After my stepfather left home to work here as a driver, and after the accident which claimed his life, I’d been requested—actually forced—to take his place here on Star Port One in order to work off a debt he’d run up.

Star Port One—time for your mind to be blown—happened to be in a galaxy far, far away. Okay, call it a cliché, but it happened to be true. I did live in a galaxy far, far away and I did interact with a number of other life forms.

The downside of it all was that while driving remained my passion, my job as a taxi driver ranked somewhere between picking up garbage and disposing of said garbage. However, there was that debt thing to consider, and that’s what kept me here, that and the fact that I wasn’t educated to do much else.

At times, it still amazed me aliens existed, that they’d come to Earth not so long ago, and that they’d asked us to join their Alliance, the Galactic Alliance, as they called themselves. Once everyone heard about the visitors from far away, they waited for the aliens to either take them away or enlighten them as to the secrets of existence. Reality check—the aliens did neither of those things. They only asked us to wait while they prepared the rest of the cosmos for our arrival.

In the meantime, I had to work for the almighty coin. I didn’t want to think about the money thing even though it became the central focus of my life. For an eighteen-year-old guy who wanted to go on dates and meet people, it was a huge culture shock.

Dwelling on my woes just made me feel depressed, so I switched my perspective over to the vast crowd. Everyone seemed to be with someone else, which got me even more depressed. Couples with children, young people, older people, black, white, yellow or chartreuse, everyone had someone. It didn’t matter if they walked, slithered, crawled or flew. They had someone and me... I had my job. Thanks to my rotten drunk of a stepfather, it was the only thing I had...

You, Earther, tell me what your problem is.

Wonderful, Andruk the Mytonian just had to come over, interrupt my trip down washout memory lane, and make my life complete. With a voice that sounded like a cement mixer on overdrive, the dude stood six feet three inches and carried two hundred and forty pounds of elephantine-like fury on his torso. He lumbered over, shaking his head. Inwardly groaning, I knew what would happen next.

You should wait your turn, Earther.

Gravelly voice aside, his attitude bothered me more. His head always seemed to thrust itself forward in a move, which signaled pure aggression. Then again, having a shaggy head with ears like an African elephant’s and a trunk three feet long and half a foot thick would cause anyone’s head to hang downward. You can wait, he added. In your case, your turn comes last.

A bully with the biggest mouth on the spaceport, he always bragged about how many people he knew or how much money he made. That didn’t earn him many friends, but it did make him someone to watch out for. With the breath and temper of a rhino, he did his best to come across as a real hard-ass and usually succeeded. Most of the other taxi drivers didn’t want to get into a fight with him under any circumstances.

This time there would be no backing off. Jeez, I’d been here just a short time, so lighten up, already. License to drive or no, everyone considered me the lowest form of life on the cosmic totem pole. I had rights, too, so I threw his question right back at him. "Hey, you got a problem, Andruk?"

Lumbering in my direction, he shook his crooked snout at me. Mytonians had pretty short fuses and I learned the hard way not to provoke them. We’d had a fight over a disputed fare my first week of driving. You Earthers ought to know your place, he’d said at the time and pulled me over to a relatively quiet corner of the Departure Bay. His breath stank of something I couldn’t identify and didn’t want to.

What is my place? I’d asked.

Last. Then with a meaty hand, he’d sucker-punched me right in the nose.

My head snapped back, I’d heard the crunch and felt the bone break, and after seeing red—and a lot of my blood—we’d gone at it. Upshot of the fight—he got his trunk cracked in three places before the guards broke it up. Every day since then we’d gone through the same ritual of him tossing out the insults and me taking them.

Back to the present, and Andruk continued venting. Earther, you got a real stubborn streak. Maybe I should pound it out of you.

The other drivers heard his threat and snickered. Rant on, rant on, and he went through a number of foul-mouthed insults before he ran out of semi-intelligent things to say. Finally, he glared at me through his narrow eyes, his breath still coming out in great heaves of air and said, Well, you gonna answer me or what?

How’s the nose, Andruk? It still hadn’t healed properly and remained crooked, three feet of L-shaped sound and fury. The other drivers laughed louder which really got his crap hot. Andruk seemed to have a special hatred of humans although no one ever told me why. It didn’t matter.

You’re nothing but uneducated Earth scum, he tossed out, still attempting to bait me. You pretend to be a star-driver, but you’re nothing.

There it was, that term again. The general fare-paying public called us space cabbies, star jockeys or star-drivers, and tended to look down on us. They would always accuse us of using our cabs to rip them off. Maybe some of the other drivers did.

However, after my brushes with the law on Earth, something that I’d done in repeated bouts of stupidity at an earlier age, I intended to stay on the straight and narrow. Still, Andruk was asking for it, and balling up my fists, time to open up a can of whoop-ass...

Hey, Harry, cool it, and you too, Andruk!

The voice of my dispatcher, Rhody Masterson, caused us to stop and look up. He poked his head out the window of the office, which overlooked the Departure Bay. His heavy Texas drawl—he came from Laredo—got more pronounced the angrier he got, and right now he was pretty steamed. Guys, if y’all don’t tone it down ah’m a ‘gonna have to do somethin’ about it which y’all won’t like very much!

No one said anything for a moment until finally Andruk backed off. Fine, he groused. I’d have taken him anyway. He stalked off while everyone continued chuckling.

Rhody—real name, Rory—was a very tough man. He had to be. He’d started up this business about five years ago when the star port opened, had a rep of being fair, and took crap from no one. Eavesdropping on the stories the other drivers shared among themselves, it was totally awesome. In his late thirties, Rhody had been a racecar driver in his younger days. He handled a knife like a pro and fought like a demon on steroids. I once saw him take apart a much larger shuttle driver in less than a minute. That guy had picked a fight for no special reason and Rhody just clobbered him. Everyone knew better than to mess with Texas.

Sorry, Rhody, I called out.

Butt-kisser, someone muttered.

Yeah, you too, you’re just as bad as I am, chasing down credits.

Instead of replying, I turned my gaze down the line of parked space taxis. The crowd of interstellar travelers continued to grow and so did my frustration. While they searched for rides and hesitated over which mode of transportation to take, I was losing money. Pick me, pick me, I need a fare.

Up ahead, a tour guide escorted a few travelers to the upper levels. This star port operated as a combination hotel and transit system to the other planets. The Galactic Alliance had been created by a race known as the Querrans centuries ago. Tall and slender black-skinned aliens with very humanoid features, they were my bosses and also chaired the Alliance. Their organization managed all the trading and commerce throughout the galaxy including this taxi service, so what they said went.

Star Port One also happened to be the only one of its kind which meant it was overcrowded and dirty. Between the harsh rules which included no drugs, no smuggling, and no prostitution—yeah, no kidding—all the extra traffic meant a lot of tension. All that added up to even more butt-hurt feelings.

While the port served as a jump-off point for those who wanted to travel to other planets, many visitors didn’t bother. Everyone loved the service in the hotels. They stayed there, shopped or checked out the various restaurants and bars. If they wanted to visit other worlds, then they had the choice of either taking a shuttle or using a cab. That’s where I came in, along with the other drivers.

However, none of us liked each other very much. All of us different and working together in this fast-paced pressure cooker didn’t help. Even if the anger reached the nuclear level we rarely had it out, not with the armed guards around twenty-four—seven, so, as my boss said, You start something don’t bother finishin’ it ‘cuz they won’t let you.

Rhody got on the intercom and yelled out assignments. The lucky drivers immediately got into their cabs, maneuvered them into position, and stood outside in anticipation of their fares coming to them. Finally, it became a matter of minutes for the conning tower to give them the go-ahead to jet into space.

On the opposite side of the bay, the shuttles sat there, immense rectangular vehicles, which resembled beached whales. They always got priority as they carried more passengers even though they were slow. If you wanted speed, you took a taxi.

My boss’s voice intruded on my thoughts. Hey Harry, you got a fare. Get your butt in gear.

I wondered what species I’d be carrying today and checked my pocket genotype dictionary. During my flight-training period, my dispatcher-boss kindly lectured me on who to expect and what they’d be like. He also gave me a pocket computer, which listed all the extra-terrestrial genotypes and the facts about them. Study it, he’d said. Space is like a buffet table, there’s every kind of food you’ve eaten and some you haven’t.

Looking at the blue creature coming in my direction, I already knew what it was. My ride for today turned out to be a Gebbonian. No one liked carrying anyone from their race. They were roughly humanoid, tall and slender with two pairs of seven-fingered hands on each arm and a number of unsightly warts all over their bodies. They seemed nice enough, but they often got space sick and when they threw up the stink was enough to knock you out. Unlike other species, they offered to pay extra if they left a mess.

This was one of my regulars. Gila—I could never pronounce her full name no matter how many times I tried—a middle-aged lady, called out, Mista Taxi, please, I need you!

The other drivers snickered as she slunk over to me on flat, flipper-like feet. Space sickness, warts and all, I liked Gila. She’d been my very first fare when I went solo and to give her credit, she never made fun of me for being from Earth while most everyone else did. A very rich woman who ran a restaurant on her home world, she had a lot of credits to burn.

Gila often went to a pleasure world called Mirtho for shopping, relaxation and always brought back some exotic sweets which tasted like chocolate. We weren’t supposed to take gifts from anyone, but Rhody knew about her generosity and let it slide. Even though she usually got space sick, she always apologized profusely and automatically doubled my payment.

Hi Gila, are you going to Mirtho today? I asked.

She nodded enthusiastically, her head bobbing up and down. Yes, Mista Taxi man, I’m going to have some fun! You must join with me someday.

Everyone else laughed at her choice of words. The universal translator we all carried behind our left ears usually gave out a precise translation, but with some species, it didn’t work. Gebbonians always used broken English and grammar yet they didn’t seem to care what others thought, a good attitude.

"Uh, I’d like to join you someday, Gila, I said, correcting her speech, but I’ve gotta work."

She waved her hands, the warts on her body quivering. You, Earthman, you always work. You must have some fun someday, perhaps with special girl?

Her comment made my face feel hot. No girlfriend for me, not yet, anyway. Not many species up here counted as girlfriend material in my book. To hide my embarrassment, I opened the gull-wing hatch for her. No, no special girl in my life, Gila, but it’s a big galaxy, right?

She laughed, entered the taxi and sank into the worn seat. I drove a used model, a gunmetal gray craft called the Alpha, and it looked like any other star-taxi out there, twenty-five feet long and ten feet wide.

However, the seats had permanently ingrained stains and the equipment needed to be upgraded. The only reason it ran so well was because of my constant attention. It still outran the newer versions on the market.

After checking the onboard computer, everything seemed ready and I gave her a thumbs-up sign. Okay, we’re cool.

The flight deck crew gave me the all-clear wave and we shot out of the hangar. The sudden jolt pulled me back into the seat and... yeah! It always felt indescribably intense to take off, drive like an ace and rule the skies.

On the way, Gila and I chatted back and forth through the barrier, which had been installed to protect me from potentially unruly passengers. We talked about her job, her husband and her six children. The time passed quickly and soon we entered Mirtho’s orbit. You’re cleared to land, their ground control said.

As soon as we touched down Gila promptly pitched up everything in the back seat. I so sorry, Mista Taxi Man. Her eyes welled with tears. She always cried when she heaved, another common Gebbonian trait. I so sorry, I pay you now.

With a quick move, she reached into her handbag, took out a small handheld device, and entered the payment. Showing it to me, she’d tripled the rate. "This is for you, Mista