by Thadd Evans
"Verra, is there anything else?" My stomach muscles tensed up, a nervous reaction.
Six miles due north of here, beneath two igneous rocks, there are four strains of E coli. Six million years ago, gamma rays hit Brynin, and telomeres in all four mutated. As a result, all of them are more lethal.
"When's the last time it rained anywhere on Brynin?"
Six years and five months ago.
"Did any of your probes overlook mutated Sarcoma or Cholera? They may be obscured by igneous rocks or granite."
It's possible that they missed the Sarcoma and Cholera, but not probable.
Greg announced, an irritated look on his face, "According to my scan, there are trace amounts of Sarcoma and Cholera eighty miles from here. In this case, we got lucky, they're ninety feet below the sand. I'll assume that Brynin is safe. The question is why would anyone want to live on this dry moon?"
"Time will tell."
Greg shook his head, disgusted. "Brynin is a worthless shit hole. Everything has to be shipped in. If you stay here for too long, your skin would dry up and peel off."
I nodded.
Near the edge of an ivory screen, in front of a trapezoid spacecraft that was closer to the runway than ST7, a sphere-like ship missed the runway, and crash-landed---exploded. In an instant, the trapezoid spacecraft flew through the flames, and touched down.
I shoved my hand through floating vectors---we went through the flames, and touched down on the runway, nose up. Then our bodies slammed forward while the ship slowed down.
We reached the opposite end of the runway and turned left and rolled across a strip, headed for the terminal. After reaching wider pavement, I pushed my hand through coordinates, and the ship veered left, and stopped, parked.
In my mind's eye, I was on Cyan, a planet known for its huge oceans and snowcapped mountains, talking to a beautiful Turon woman with blue skin and wide shoulders. Our romance lasted for five weeks. I had to leave Cyan because we had packages to deliver. That was six years ago. Thinking about her made me feel lonely.
"The Ulthe, a race of humanoids, are killers. But if you have the time, and gain their trust, they can be relied on in any circumstance."
Jason_664
Chapter Two
Brynin
A male voice came out of my tablet, colored with a formal accent. "This is the control tower. My name is Impla. Welcome to Brynin, the last bastion of freedom in the war."
My paranoia increased. "We don't know much about the war."
"Within the last eight hundred days, after reaching Litor, RO and M3, the LN robots attacked the Etite, Qoowo and many others humanoid races. Sources indicate that battles on RO, Litor and M Three are still raging.
"The good news is that LN troops haven't come here."
"Where are the interferometric telescope communication services?" I listened carefully.
"In the main lobby. I will send a map to your tablet."
"Should I pay now? How long can we stay?"
"Pay now or tomorrow morning, when S Fourteen rises. Stay as long as you wish."
"We need to buy tritium and find some passengers."
"There are passengers in the Brynin terminal and in Rawn."
"Thanks. We'll pay now."
"Inte is acceptable."
"I'll pay inside, if that's acceptable." I remembered that Inte, transferring funds by optical interferometric telescope, was a standard payment procedure on Moon 21, Indigo 3, and Red Ten.
"It is acceptable."
On my tablet, the terminal's floor plan enlarged. But the exact location of the ISCO office, the place to drop off our packages, didn't appear. I would have to walk inside the terminal and look around.
I stood. "Greg, I'll search for passengers and deliver the packages. Why don't you look for tritium?"
"Remember Red Ten?" He frowned.
"Yes, but you did find two hundred milligrams of it."
Greg sighed. "Those two Virts almost killed me with their L Twenty-Ones."
"What about those aggressive Teng humanoids?" In my mind's eye, many years ago, a Virt humanoid with an L21 laser pistol raised the weapon and it automatically switched from stun mode to kill.
"Forget the Teng. They were loud, but they never tried to shoot me."
"Why didn't they shoot you?"
He scowled. "That's a long story, longer than Red Ten's anthem. I'd rather not think about it."
I nodded.
After Greg and I left Ea7, our home planet, we got along despite our different backgrounds. He had parents and brothers. I did not. I was one C human clone, almost identical to 4021 other ones. OTA's PCR Lab 122 has created us because they needed pilots for their starships. PCR, polymerase chain reaction, a molecular biological technique, enzymically replicated DNA without using yeast or a living organism. The technique enabled a small amount of DNA to be amplified exponentially. As an in entro technique, PCR could be used on most DNA. A scientist could take human hair or fingers and manipulate the DNA.
I remembered my childhood. It was time when I studied constantly, hoping to become the captain of an OTA starship.
I began daydreaming about Steve-313 and John-508, my classmates from school. They were the only friends I ever had on Ea7.
Steve, a tall blond boy always squinted when he studied computer network programming. After many years, he learned how to set up and maintain local, wide, spherical, interplanetary computer networks.
After studying eighteen object programming languages for years, John was adept at setting up TCP-like protocols for thousands of wireless space networks.
As a computer hummed louder, Greg left the bridge.
Near the top of a taupe screen, after going down the hall, and entering the passenger compartment, he climbed down the steps, hurrying toward Rawn.
I sniffed Brynin's pine-like air. It smelled better than the ship's stale air.
For the last three hundred days, Greg and I hadn't been to any planets or moons in the R1 planetary system. The only thing we ate was artificial beef wafers, synthetic carrots, and spinlock. Although all of them were healthy, they tasted like cardboard.
In my mind's eye, an asteroid barely missed our starboard wing. Despite the danger posed by the high velocity asteroids, I felt contented because we were far from Ea7, a crowded planet, the place where I was created. Even if you went to a beach or a mountain, there wasn't any privacy.
Near the edge of the screen, Greg rushed past the terminal, a nervous expression on his face.
I spoke into my tablet, "Greg, Impla didn't tell us about the war until we were about to land."
"That's true."
"My guess is that he assumed that we were a spy ship. If he said the wrong thing, we would bomb the terminal."
"Impla sounded nervous. Something is wrong. But I'm not sure if they were expecting a spy..." and his voice dissipated.
"Greg, I lost the connection! Can you hear me?"
White noise erupted from my tablet. It wouldn't pick up his signal.
I didn't feel safe. It was best to go inside the terminal, drop off the cargo, then search for potential passengers immediately. After following me to ST7, I would check their ID, and they would pay me. Then cargo would be loaded and all of us would board my ship and leave Brynin. I wanted to get off this moon within the next few hours.
There was a problem. If Greg didn't return with fuel, we couldn't take off.
Above my tablet, on the floating ionized screen, DNA, RNA, and x-ray and cardiovascular scanning modes enlarged. In DNA mode, my tablet scanned faster than x-ray. But if any potential passenger were hiding a pistol, DNA scanning wouldn't detect it. There wasn't enough time. DNA scanning would have to suffice.
At the center of a monitor, close to ST7's nose, tiny spider-like nanorobots began stripping off a burnt layer of carbon nanotubes. When they were finished, they would spray on a new one. If everything went according to plan, they would be finished in one hour and nine minutes.
Oran
ge text appeared. Ninety-eight percent, ASR complete. Despite the reading, the ASR software was plagued by viruses. Although this disappointed me, I wanted to believe all 200,603 software applications, the landing gear, interferometric telescopes, network cables, navigation software, servers, and spectrometers aboard my ship were functioning properly.
Unfortunately, about twice a week, at least one of the computer cables came off because the hull never stopped vibrating. Perhaps a broken photonic cable would show up in a cross-reference check.
I left the bridge. After entering the passenger compartment, I watched as a storage room door opened. Two carts, transport devices that were filled with boxes, flew out and went down the stairs.
After reaching the bottom of the steps, I hurried toward the terminal as both carts started following me.
Near the edge of my tablet, a map of P L Five's four continents, Woon, Nef, Sars, and Eorn, enlarged. There wasn't enough time to study them.
Beneath a nearby umber colored saucer-like ship, two Aito men in gold space suits pointed at the sky. Much to my surprise, they began staring at me. Although they resembled humans, their foreheads were several inches higher than ours.
According to my database, many Aito were obsessed with homeostasis in pituitary glands, understanding gravitational pull, mapping constellations, and neutrinos. Using spectrometers, Insigi and Thou, two Aito astrophysicists, had studied Alpha Centauri A, a main sequence star, for thirty years, and concluded that it was stable. It wouldn't explode or emit any gamma rays. Just about every Aito had read about Insigi and Thou. An Aito passenger might tell us if there were any flaws in our star maps.
Beyond them, Aito women in magenta coats, beings with angular faces and long narrow chins, glanced in my direction, curious looks on their faces.
Behind the women, groups of humanoids, Turon, Qoowo, and Ontx kept walking in different directions, searching aimlessly.
Unlike humans, Turons had blue skin.
Although Turon women and men were passionate lovers, many of them were short tempered. It was best to search for passengers of another race.
The terminal door opened. Qoowo women and their children walked out, whispering to each other.
I entered the crowded building. The two hundred foot diameter waiting room smelled like sweat and burnt food. To my left and right, humanoids of different races scurried toward the curved wall, headed for stores, their boot heels making clicking sounds on the speckled granite floor. Above the stores, near the top of video billboards, food advertisements in Qoowo and Turon began pulsating.
A floating sign, my advertisement, appeared close to my tablet.
Tickets For Sale.
First destination, the planet D24. Ticket price,
500.00 M's.
Second destination, the planet Icir. Ticket price,
1000.00 M's
My Series 7 starship, ST7, leaves later today. Ask
me for more specific information.
In a smooth motion, the sign began rotating, making it possible for it to be viewed from different parts of the room.
Aito men began staring at me, puzzled expressions on their faces. Unfortunately, my sign was in English. Soon the letters morphed until they resembled infinity symbols, stacked dashes and carefully arranged dots, hieroglyphics that were part of the Aito alphabet. My tablet had responded to their scanners.
An Aito man's voice, a translation, came out of my earplugs. "We want to leave Brynin within the next four days because the LN are coming. But your tickets are much too expensive."
Behind him, tall Ulthe men with narrow eyes were dressed in gray camouflaged battle fatigues. Ulthe always carried laser pistols and swords. Although they talked too much, they were loyal to each other. Unlike humans and Turon, Ulthe blood thinned without taking any medication. They were less likely to get heart attacks as my ship accelerated. The Ulthe were interested in serotonin levels within the bloodstream. If your serotonin level were too low, you would become depressed. However, because many Ulthe argued constantly, they would make lousy passengers.
Over my right shoulder, broad shouldered Turon men frowned at me. One of them growled, "Lower your prices." "I can't." I scowled.
"Then forget it!"
Next to them, for an unknown reason, several tall Embas women, beings in paisley jackets, grasped their hip mounted L66 pistols. These weapons could shoot pulsed laser blasts or fire tiny grenades, ones that would kill humanoids or destroy light machinery within a one hundred and ten foot radius. Like many Embas, these women had pale mocha skin, and large hands.
After Embas hieroglyphics appeared on my sign, every Embas, beings with copper colored eyes, glanced at me. Within an instant, they raised their hands. Near the tips of their fingers, glands sprayed mist that smelled like a swamp.
According to my tablet, the odor meant they weren't interested in my tickets. Unlike any other race, Embas used different sprays to tell stories. Normally, a urine-like spray evoked mental images of disagreements. In many cases, a cinnamon odor provoked a desire to speak about Haip, the god of empathy and good will.
I walked. All around me, Aito, Embas, Turon, and unknown humanoids spoke louder, complaining about the war. But no one paid attention to my sign for more than a second or two.
Directly ahead, a short, bronze skinned Maar raised his three-fingered hand, and began adjusting an L14 pistol. The Maar race worshiped Sie, a God of the sky, Dene, Lord of the forest, and Foa, a deity of the ocean. Just about every Maar tried to convert anyone who didn't agree with them. He shook his head. "Your tickets are too costly."
Not far away, a six-foot tall Argone male humanoid with slate skin, a man with an exasperated expression on his face, glanced in my direction. There was a common saying among the Argone, do not fear your inner demons of loneliness. He aimed one thumb down, he didn't care what I was doing.
Behind him, a five-foot tall Irn humanoid with a long snout turned toward me and blinked, trying to figure out who I was. According to my tablet, the Irn, shepherds, lived in P L Five's northern Ise Mountains. "I don't have enough money to buy a ticket."
Not far from me, a group of humanoid silhouettes began shouting, "Oh genki de skah!"
Along the bottom of my tablet, blue text, a translation appeared. Make sure your laser rifles don't misfire.
Someone yelled, "Orin, eya."
Near the center of my tablet, an Ulthe translation enlarged.
We'll fight to the death! Destroy the LN!
At the edge of my tablet, a map of this floor enlarged. According to the map, the ISCO window, the spot where my parcels had to be dropped off, was close by. I hurried toward it. Above ticket counters, in the middle of a huge sign, orange Lim text scrolled faster. Nee how.
For an unknown reason, the text vanished--- was replaced by mauve Ulthe text. She shea.
Unfortunately, the text didn't say where the ISCO window was located.
As boot heels scraped louder, I looked down, curious, and slender Mlaan men with copper skin, Lim women in battle fatigues, and four-foot tall amoeba-like Amboa humanoids crossed my path, moving toward an unknown destination.
The Mlaan, a race who loved poetry, and song, would make good passengers. Noil, a dead Mlaan poet, wrote six hundred sonnets about loyalty, sincerity and compassion. But none of the Mlaan men paid attention to me.
Not far away, on top of a headless robot's short neck, near the edge of a platform, a structure that was surrounded by a railing, a four-inch tall Saima man, a humanoid species from Beig, a Jupiter sized planet, announced, "Nuus ot."
A translation appeared on my tablet. "I don't want a ticket."
If the Saima man, someone whose race was small because Beig's 5 g pull wouldn't allow any larger species to survive, wished to buy a ticket, ST7's rapid acceleration would destroy the headless robotic body.
The headless android, a transportation device that the Saima used to get around, walked off.
Off to my left, four tall Qoowo males with shoulde
r-mounted SK rocket launchers began mumbling, upset. Many of them worked in mines and became addicted to drugs, and died young. Then they shook their heads, none of them cared about my advertisement.
After turning off my sign, I shoved the tablet in my pocket, and stopped next to the ISCO counter. "Can I help you?" an Ontx man with purple skin, a clerk who was behind the counter, asked.
"I'm here to deliver packages."
He nodded.
A section of the counter opened. Both carts rolled through it. As an electronic hum grew louder, the left side of each cart lowered, and the packages slid down a ramp.
The Ontx announced, "All packages are accounted for. Full payment has been exported into your tablet."
I walked away while both carts flew by me, moving toward my ship.
My advertisement, the one I had used a few moments ago, appeared and began rotating.
I spotted the Fee Station counter, and hurried toward it.
After reaching the counter, my sign moved until it was above my shoulder, making it possible for me to see the Qoowo clerk. Behind the counter, he frowned. Because his pink eyes, ones without black pupils, or blue or brown corneas, were all one color, it was impossible to tell if he was looking directly at me.
"I'll use Inte Three to pay for ST Seven at dock fifteen," I said, my tablet aimed at his scanner. Inte Three meant that the telescope inside my tablet would send a payment into his scanner at close range. When I was on Red Ten, I emailed a payment to a scanner that was two miles away. But the scanner never got it.
"Payment received. Thank you."
I smiled. Although I felt disappointed because no one was interested in my tickets, I pivoted, and headed toward Ulthe men as they began inspecting their body armor. One man raised an L59 pistol, inspecting it, making sure it would shoot laser beams simultaneously in sixty-one directions.
Another Ulthe man spoke to another member of his race, "After adjusting the mode, squeeze the trigger, and two laser beams will shoot straight ahead, and then move to the right. At the same time, another beam will fire to the left."
