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<-- BROWNFINGER Part 2
Moya
“John, you are going to have to stop bringing every woman you save back to Moya. Our payroll is stretched past the limit as it is.” D’Argo did not have any more positions for everyone as it was and where he could place her was anybody’s guess.
“Jool could use some assistance. Why don’t you have Chiana help her.” John suggested.
“We’ll see. So that’s how Brownfinger is building his Chocolate Empire. We need you to get to know Brownfinger and learn of his plans. Our intelligence suggests he is trying to corner the market on Snickers.” D’Argo said.
“Won’t he need to capture the Snickers factory on Mars? Those coordinates are an Earth secret!” Crichton prayed Brownfinger didn’t have the coordinates. John also enjoyed the irony of the plant moving from Mars, Pennsylvania to the planet Mars for security purposes.
“You’re correct. But secrets can be leaked. We need to know if he is planning a raid on Mars. If he stops the manufacture of Snickers and has the stock we think he has, well, you can imagine the damage he can do.” D’Argo was extremely worried. Snickers became the monetary standard ever since Earth was located and the rest of the universe discovered chocolate. Brownfinger was capable of bringing the economy of the entire known universe to its knees. “Brownfinger has a complex on S’hangra where he is also a member of the exclusive ‘Burningham Fairway’ Golf Course. One of our operatives, Stark, is a caddy there. He will set it up for you to replace Nebishil who is Brownfinger’s regular opponent.” D’Argo handed Crichton a Snickers six-pack. “You will be expected to play for currency. Don’t lose. The agency has this on loan from The Bank.”
Crichton sounded a low whistle knowing the value of the Snickers six-pack. It had become the most valued currency in the universe. * And I used to wolf these puppies down at fifty cents a pop. Who’d a thunk! * John thought. “I’ll leave immediately.” He meant it too. Jenevia was out on a mission and there was no one else he was interested in seeing at the moment.
“And John… “ D’Argo said as John was leaving.
“Yes?” Crichton stopped in the doorway.
“Don’t eat the cash.”
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S’hangra: Burningham Fairway
Crichton walked up to the bartender at the club, “I’ll have a Raslak, shaken, not stirred.” When he was handed the drink, John asked the bartender, “I’m looking for Stark. Can you point him out to me?”
The bartender pointed to a raggedy man with a mask covering half his face. Crichton couldn’t believe his eyes. * How can this guy caddy with only one eye? Well there’s nothing to do but talk to him. * John Crichton approached Stark. He had many doubts but he was determined to make the best of it. “Are you Stark?” John continued when this person who looked nothing like a caddy nodded. “Name’s Crichton, John Crichton. D’Argo instructed me to find you. He said you would be able to set me up with Scorpius Brownfinger.”
“Yes. Come with me.” Stark spun around and walked directly to the locker room. “He has a date with Nebishil in a half an arn. Nebishil agreed to give up his time when you arrived. He’s been losing too much lately anyway. Get ready while I notify him.”
John changed into his golf clothes and shoes while Stark contacted Nebishil. John tucked the Snicker six-pack into the golf bag just as Stark walked back.
“Where did you get that? Don’t bet the Snickers! Brownfinger cheats.” Stark was pacing. “He doesn’t use a club caddy.”
“Whose his caddy?” John said.
“Furlow. She’s not a very good caddy but she is very good at protecting Brownfinger and at cheating. We think they cheat. We’re convinced they cheat. They are very good at it because it is nothing we can prove.” Stark stopped pacing and sat down.
“Keep sharp and maybe we can beat them at their own game.
“Why do you wear that mask?” John sat down next to Stark.
“I need it because I’m Stykera. It holds my energy in. I would disperse without it.” Stark shifted his mask so that a small amount of the energy field became visible to Crichton.
“I have an idea. I may ask you to use that. Are you willing?” John said.
“I need to be careful. But, yes, I will help where possible.” Stark stood up. “Brownfinger should be arriving in just a few microts.”
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“Mr. Crichton, I only play for currency. Nebishil and I have a standing bet. Will you cover it?” Brownfinger was not dressed for golf. The only exception was his shoes.
“I will do better.” Crichton pulled the Snickers six-pack out of his golf bag and threw it like a gauntlet at Brownfinger’s feet.
“That is acceptable. I will put up the equivalent currency.” Brownfinger said.
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“I see what you mean Stark. There is nothing I can really pinpoint. I too am convinced Brownfinger has been cheating. Furlow seems rather inept but twice when Brownfinger sliced the ball into the trees she was able to miraculously find it in the rough. I’m sure they were lost in the wooded area and not in the rough. My eyes are better than 20-20. I would be ahead by two strokes if she had not been able to find the ball.” John was worried. They were down to the green on the last hole with a tied score. John had the easier putt and played through. He managed to get four strokes on a par five. “Stark, I think it’s time for you to do what we discussed.”
Stark nodded and walked away from the green. He positioned himself such that he was not conspicuous but he would catch Brownfinger’s eyes at the moment he made contact with the ball. Crichton fiddled with his golf bag to distract Furlow so that she could not see what Stark was doing. Stark lifted his mask a fraction and released some of his energy just as Brownfinger hit the ball, throwing it off course. No one but Crichton knew what Stark had done. Crichton finished one point lower than Brownfinger.
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Brownfinger’s expression was more sour than John thought possible. “Furlow, give Crichton the currency.” Furlow brought a box to John, which he examined. Satisfied the bet was covered, he began walking to his transport.
Brownfinger stopped him. “Crichton! You may have won this golf game, but I will get it back three fold.” Brownfinger signaled Furlow. She put a large object down and unhooked her chinstrap. Furlow sent her chinstrap sailing like a boomerang towards a marble statue. The chinstrap spun through the air and decapitated the statue. “I own this club, Crichton. You are not welcome here. Leave at once.”
