BUSINESS WITH PAPPY JOE
by Warren Cook
 
"I want Mommy," Shale whined for the tenth time since they left the orbiting Satellite Colony Beta, aboard the overbooked Trans World Airlines Shuttle.
"Yes, Shale, we know," Sill sighed, patting her three-year-old sister on the head.
Harry put down the business card that he had been studying to watch his daughters. Sill had only been a five-year-old little girl a few days ago and now could easily be mistaken for a thirty-year-old mother of two. Harry's eyes returned to the business card in his hand. It had mysteriously appeared in his pocket the morning after the night he spent in the bar (the day he found out his wife was abandoning her Motherness to join the Mothership: the first human research vessel -- another of the Other Worlders' so-called "Gifts"). As soon as the Earth was pronounced livable again after being the stage for the Collective War, the people, human and Other Worlders, flocked to the surface after ten years of living on the satellite colonies and the lunar settlements. Harry was surprised they only had to wait a year for the global clean-up. Just another sample of the Other Worlders' "Gift" of highly advanced technology dumped into the laps of humankind in return for humanity's aid in helping a collection of non-violent aliens fight their war for them.
Harry watched the expressionless faces of those Other Worlders aboard the Earth-bound shuttle. He had never seen any sign of emotion on their faces and wondered again if they even had souls at all. He also studied the dismal faces of the humans crammed together in the shuttle on their way to reclaim their home. He couldn't tell what the aliens were thinking, but he was pretty sure the same question was haunting most of the humans' minds:
Now What?
Before the war and the Gift, people of Earth knew where they stood in the scheme of life. They were the top of the food chain, masters of their own destinies. But now there was a new sheriff in town, a much more advanced and totally automated sheriff. Once that transition was complete, there was nothing left to do for those used to hard work to support families, build their lives, or just plain measure their position on the food chain.
The transition for Harry from cop to soldier wasn't difficult, but when it was all over there was no job to return to. When the fighting was over he found himself in a world he was not prepared for. A world where what you became was dependent upon a computer and not your blood, sweat, or tears.
"Fully automated life style," the tabloids beamed.
Humanity was castrated.
Harry flipped the card around in his fingers as his daughters fought over whose turn it was to sit by the window. Faced with no job, and citizenship on Earth costing thousands of dollars, he had been tempted to leave his children with his parents on the Lunar Retirement Colony until he could afford citizenship on his own world, but quickly gave the idea up. He felt like he, too, was abandoning them like their mother did. His excuse no better than hers.
He had to salvage what was left of his pride somehow.
The name on the business card was someone named Pappy Joe. There was a phone number and an Earth address.
Was he offered a job while intoxicated? Why would he have the card? No one sells vacuum cleaners anymore. No one sells anything anymore.
He didn't like the feel of it; his instincts as both a policeman and a soldier were warning him to never mind and move on. But he had his children to worry about; they were his sole responsibility now. Citizenship would allow them access to proper schools, housing, protected neighborhoods. Any job these days would pay little, taking years to afford citizenship. He had to start somewhere.
When the shuttle finally landed, he had changed his mind several times. After hours spent in decontamination, and another hour searching for their luggage, Harry stood in the center of the terminal with his children at his feet. They had their luggage, their clearance, and even a clear exit into the new city (that had been hastily erected after the wars destroyed all the others). But Harry could only stand there with his children peering up at him, eyes full of expectation.
Which way was he to go? No home. No job. There was nothing outside those glass doors for them.
He pulled the card out of his shirt pocket again. He had never taken the easy way out of anything, Pappy Joe seemed to be offering just that.
Changing his mind once again, he was about to return it to his pocket when Shale tugged at his shirt-tail.
"I'm hungry, Daddy-do," she sang. He looked at her older sister, who nodded back.
Harry gathered up his children and found the public phones.
* * *
After Harry had hung up the phone he and the girls took the SkyCab to the Pavilion of Worlds at the center of the city. The cab only got them half the way before it was forced down due to technical difficulties (a common occurrence with the Gift). The company computer apologized for the inconvenience and asked them to leave. So they boarded the AirTrain for the remainder of the way (a couple blocks short, actually, before it, too, malfunctioned). The meeting with Pappy Joe was set for noon, only a couple hours away, so they took their lunch at the diner where the meeting was set to take place.
The three of them were just finishing when the front doors flew open and a large, uncommonly heavy. Other Worlder walked through with two muscle-bound companions at either of his ample sides. All the other Other Worlders Harry had seen were thin and pale creatures unfamiliar with physical activity. This combo was strange even for what they were. The larger one was covered in sweat despite the Global Climate Control, which regulated the temperature (when it worked, and today it actually was). All three wore black pinstriped suits right out of an old 1940s mobster movie.
They approached Harry, faces blank of emotion.
"Harry Westling," The sweaty fat alien announced. "We have business."
Harry left the girls to their sodas to follow Pappy Joe to another booth in the back shadows of the diner. Before Harry stood up, however, Sill grabbed at his sleeve.
"I don't like this guy," she whispered in his ear, sounding more like the adult she was being forced to become.
"I know, Baby. Me neither." He gave her hand a quick squeeze and winked, but he didn't feel as good humored as he portrayed.
Pappy Joe sat in the booth with his back to the wall. His "Goons" stood one at Pappy's side and the other beside Harry, opposite Pappy.
"I have to say," Harry began, fighting down his nervousness; somehow he felt this was not the place to show weakness. "I don't remember you, Pappy, or whatever transpired the night I received your business card."
"Yes," Pappy said. His voice sounded like he would have been smiling, but his face still remained flat. As an ex-police officer, he found the lack of facial expression intimidating, for there was no way other than the eyes that gave away what was going on inside their heads.
"Well, Harry, you were pretty... distraught that night. I understand. You were looking for work."
"Were you offering?"
There was a hint of a smile in Pappy's eyes. The alien's measuring gaze made Harry's nerves twitch.
"I may be an alien to your world but believe me, I do sympathize, Mr. Westling. It must be difficult for a man of your skills, of your pride, to adapt to our so-called Gift. Change is difficult at a normal pace, let alone being dumped on you all at once. Unnatural, you know. So I like to try and make amends whenever I can."
His words dripped with sugar and honey. Harry felt an unclean feeling wash over him. He shivered, peering back at his children who sat quietly watching him.
"Really." He turned back to Pappy. "I thought your kind saw a business opportunity here. And you are a business man, aren't you, Pappy Joe? Why don't we cut the crap and get on with it?" Harry's abruptness surprised even himself.
Pappy's eyes twinkled. "You're not a blind man. I like that, Harry."
There was a silence as each in turn studied the other.
Then, Pappy spoke. "Yes, you will do, I think. Yes..."
"I'm beginning to doubt the wisdom of my presence here..."
"Now, now, Harry. I must be careful with this... sensitive matter."
"How sensitive?"
Instead of answering directly, Pappy asked, "How badly do you want citizenship on your old home planet, Harry?"
"Are you saying I will make enough for that?"
"Yes, sir, I am."
Harry's eyes narrowed. He knew if he went any further it would be too late. He hesitated.
But full citizenship in one job. It would take years otherwise. His children needed school, clean water, a safe home. And he was their father; it was up to him alone.
"I'm listening."
"There is an alien coming to Earth," Pappy said, waiting.
"So, the Earth's covered with them."
"She will be here in a day. This particular alien will... put a crimp in my business. You will have a chance to rid your planet of at least one of us, Harry. Wouldn't you like that?"
"You want me to kill her?"
"That is correct. Oh, why the look? I thought you would love the opportunity, considering your opinion of us."
Harry studied Pappy for a long time. It wasn't that he had never killed before; his last job relied on it. And it wasn't that he felt killing another alien was any worse than killing a gopher.
Then why was he even hesitating? One of the intruders' lives for his children's well-being. There really was no dilemma...
"Let me think about it," he finally replied.
"Sure, but don't take long, my friend. Time is of the essence here."
Pappy said good day and he and his goons returned to whatever cesspool they came from, leaving Harry with the questioning look of his elder daughter.
Not looking at her, he gathered them up and led them out.
* * *
Harry had told Pappy Joe that he wanted to consider the offer, but the truth was that he had already decided. The only problem was that he didn't feel comfortable at how easily he had made the decision. After he arranged for temporary housing at one of the many Immigrant Housing Centers he found a phone and called Pappy.
"Good," Pappy cheered on the other end. "Very good indeed."
Harry took his children to the Pavilion the following morning, Sill walking with her hands tightly locked in her father's. Harry knew she suspected things were not exactly all right, but he could not tell her just how wrong they truly were. As they walked through the Pavilion of Worlds they eventually passed by the great clock-tower. It was here, at this tower, that Harry was told to take position. It all looked simple enough, he assured himself. Almost too easy. It would just be one less alien. Who'd miss her? Her soulless comrades probably won't even bat an eye.
No problem.
And yet, he didn't feel assured in the least.
Relax, Harry, he told himself. They stole your life. You don't owe them a thing. Hell, your own people will probably call you a hero.
Harry stopped at another food pavilion for lunch. This one was based on an old human favorite, with lots of grease and sugar all around.
He sat across from Sill while she picked at her food.
After half an hour of this she finally spoke.
"Daddy?"
"Yes, Baby?"
"Mommy's not coming back, is she?"
"No, Baby, I don't think so. Not for a long time."
She remained quiet while chewing on something other than her food.
Then, "You would never leave us like that, would you?"
His heart sank. When their mother had left them they didn't know that he had almost abandoned them the same way, by giving them over to his parents. Until now Harry thought that his children blamed him for their mother's leaving. As he thought about it he realized it was himself who passes that blame, not the girls. There must have been something he could have done to make her stay; he didn't try hard enough; he wasn't man enough. In that moment he realized that the business with Pappy Joe was a mistake. He had only been willing to do it in hopes that his daughter would be proud of him the way she had been proud of their mother. To be looked at the way they had looked at her. But that would be impossible if he got caught or killed. He would have to swallow his pride and be a man, but mostly he would have to be a father.
He looked deep into his daughter's eyes for the first time in ages and could see his wife in there, the part of his wife he had loved. He could see himself in those same eyes as well. There was, however, mostly Sill beneath those pools of hazel, with a strength neither he nor his wife had ever known in themselves.
"No, Baby," he repeated. "I'll always be there for you girls."
Harry would phone Pappy Joe as soon as he could; there was still time to find a replacement.
The sweaty alien was not going to like it, nonetheless.
* * *
Harry took the girls back to the dormitory where he put them to bed in the cramped little room. Once they were asleep he made the call to Pappy. As expected, Pappy was not pleased. Harry apologized and hung up, not really caring if the damn alien liked it or not. Then he, too, retired for the evening.
He was awakened the next morning by a knocking at the door. He rushed up, startled by the intrusion. He opened the door to find one of Pappy's goons waiting.
"What do you want?" Harry snarled.
"It's time to get ready," the other replied.
"I told your boss I changed my mind."
"Yes, but he thinks you might reconsider." The alien pointed past Harry to the empty beds.
Harry's children were not there.
Before Harry could release his stalled breath the goon took his arm and led him out of the building into the street, Harry only in his T-shirt and boxers.
The outside of Pappy's office looked like something out of an old black-and-white P.I. movie. Stained-glass windows prevented any view of the inside and the sign hanging over the door creaked in the stale breeze. When Harry stepped inside he noticed first the greasy alien sitting behind an antique oak desk with a Tiffany lamp pushed to one side. Then his eyes locked on the top of the desk where something lay under a tattered blanket. He focused on the object but his mind could not seem to grasp what he was seeing.
The goons locked the front door.
"Where are my children?" Harry demanded.
"We had a deal," Pappy responded coolly.
"Just tell me where they are, you..."
Pappy removed the blanket.
"Oh, God," Harry breathed, his hands clenched into fists.
Sill was lying on the desk, skin pale and cold from death.
"There's no god here, Harry," Pappy said, raising to his feet and casually approached Harry. The sorrow, the rage, all mixed together in his heart and overloaded his senses. He could only stare at his dead daughter. Pappy gripped Harry's chin to force his attention.
"There is someone else, however." From behind his massive form Shale appeared. She ran to her father's arms in a wave of tears.
One of the goons yanked her away. Harry tried to rush him, but Pappy snapped him around by the back of the neck. The alien's grip was surprisingly strong. The fury in Harry's veins was only broken when Pappy said, "You have only one more chance, Harry. If you fail this time don't bother coming back."
He was then thrown out into the street, alone.
* * *
An hour later Harry Westling was crouched in the shadows of the noon-day sun atop the great clock-tower, the death-face image of his first-born daughter burning in his mind. The alien woman was expected to enter the Pavilion in a parade of followers. Harry didn't know who this woman was or why she was so important, but he really didn't care. As far as he was concerned all of them could rot in whatever alien hell they burned in. The way he saw it, it wasn't just Pappy who killed his Sill, but the whole damn race. And when this one is dead, he promised himself, Pappy Joe would soon follow.
He'd kill a thousand soulless aliens if he had to.
And a thousand more for the revenge of it.
The target finally entered the court area below the tower. He cursed the blank faces of the subjects in the sights of the targeting scope, the crosshairs weaving from one face to the other. The target was addressing the group of people, human and alien alike, but he couldn't tell what she was saying. Her audience, however, seemed enthralled by her words.
Harry hesitated, suddenly unsure.
This was wrong.
The woman paused in her speech. Her head tilted to the side.
He was about to be discovered. The image of Sill's body flashed in is mind's eye, and then that of Shale.
The woman turned to look right up the barrel of his rifle into Harry's eyes.
It was too late.
Harry pulled the trigger.
If a sound was made he didn't hear it. Watching through the sights he saw a small hole appear in the woman's forehead as if by magic. Her eyes glazed over before she fell into the crowd at her feet.
The confusion that followed allowed Harry to slip from the tower unnoticed. He had a clear exit, but instead he merged into the crowd and made his way to the center where two alien women were leaning over their fallen comrade. The woman lay on her back with her eyes open and staring.
It was the other alien women who held his attention. As they hovered over their friend, he noticed that their shoulders shook. At first he couldn't imagine what was happening. One of them turned her head up to the heavens. Her face was no longer emotionless. Harry caught the look in her eyes, and he knew that look all too well.
The look of sorrow and of a pain soul deep.
The sun glinted off the tears running down her cheek.
Apparently they were not soulless after all.
* * *
Harry found himself with his hand on Pappy's office door, not knowing how he had arrived there. He had gone into the job expecting at least a small amount of satisfaction, but the image of that alien tear left a hole in his soul. He couldn't help think of how disappointed Sill would have been. And all for what? A simple job? An easy way out? That was all it came down to.
As he was about to open the door he suddenly leaned forward, and if he had eaten anything in the last day he might have vomited on Pappy's straw welcome mat.
He wished he had.
"Do come in," Pappy's voice boomed from inside the office, oily pleasure in his tone.
Harry entered the building holding his stomach.
"Where's Shale, you bastard? I've done what you've asked."
"Of course, Harry." Pappy motioned to one of his goons, who vanished into the back room only to return a few minutes later with Sill's corpse and a scared but breathing Shale. Harry's youngest rushed into his arms and cried while her big sister was laid at their feet. When Shale calmed down enough, Harry let her down and picked up his other daughter. He turned to leave, but just before he reached the door he turned to face Pappy.
"Who was she?"
"You mean the innocent woman you killed?"
Harry was surprised that he flinched when Pappy said that.
"Yes."
"Do you really want to know, Harry? Don't you wish we were all dead?"
"Just tell me," Harry insisted, though he really did wish he hadn't asked.
"Well, Harry. She was a diplomat about to bring peace between the worlds we enlisted you to war against. I couldn't allow that, considering I deal mostly in the trade of goods from those otherwise unreachable civilizations and our own."
"You have alliances with your own enemies? You're a piece of crap even to your own people."
Pappy was almost smiling.
"And if there was no war, there would be no business, is that right, Pappy?"
"There's no money in peace, Harry."
"You would destroy peace for profit?"
Pappy's eyes turned cold.
"Don't get righteous on me. Why do you think we chose you people to take our place on the battlefield? It wasn't because we are not violent. No, it was pride. You humans will do anything for your pride. Hell, Harry, look at what you did for your own."
Harry looked down at his dead daughter in his arms.
Pappy continued. "It is the same pride that will force you to take that pistol you have hidden under your belt and try to avenge your daughter. The most pathetic part, however, is that you wish more to avenge yourself for being manipulated by some fat alien who's people have disrupted your pathetic life. Before you can even draw your weapon you will be shot down. But you know that, don't you? You aren't even thinking about your remaining child, only revenge. And all for what? Pride, plain and simple."
Pappy was sitting smugly behind his heavy oak desk. The rage inside Harry burned white hot, distorting his mind like heat waves on the desert floor.
Harry could feel the weight of the gun under his belt. Or was it just the weight of the truth?
"Do you think you're quick enough, Harry?" Pappy asked, this time his mouth slowly stretched into a smile. "Or do you even care anymore?"
Harry could see it in his mind's eye, reaching for the weapon, pulling it free and pointing it at the alien's head. Then squeezing the trigger. He could also see in his mind's eye Pappy's brains spraying against the back of his plush leather chair.
He knew he wasn't fast enough.
Do you even care anymore? Pappy's words echoed through Harry's head.
He wasn't sure if he did. All he could see was Pappy's death. All he wanted was some justification for all that has happened to him since the Other Worlder's arrival. Or was it merely for his own personal shortcomings? Whatever the case, someone had to pay. That fat greasy alien was the perfect candidate. What happened after that didn't matter.
* * *
For the first time since Sill's death, Harry began to cry. He faced Pappy, his hand inching towards the gun under his belt. He could even smell the death in the air now, and it smelled sweet.
Then Shale tugged at her father's shirt-tail and his world slammed back into focus.
"I'm hungry, Daddy," she said, sniffing at her tears
Pappy grinned. At that moment Harry wanted to kill the bastard more than ever, but his daughter's sobs penetrated his soul deeper than any hatred could. Deeper than pride itself. With a smile of his own, Harry looked Pappy in the eyes and said, "We are proud, you're right," he said, peering down into his daughter's deep brown eyes. "We are, after all, human." He took Shale's hand. "Come on, Shale, let's go find us a home."
He led his charge out of the office of Pappy Joe. 

Story copyright 2000 by Warren Cook