by Thadd Evans
Wanting to avoid him, I hurried by a group of slender Dseo men, beings with amber faces. Thousands of Dseo Astronomers had studied many stars, particularly Alpha Centauri A and B. A Dseo passenger might share their maps with us. None of them looked at me.
Next to a row of chairs, Ulthe men strapped laser cannons onto their shoulders, preparing for a fight. Then they reached down and grabbed their L82 multi-directional laser rifles. Because of its long-range optical interferometric telescope, an L82 could hit a starship that was eighty miles away. One of them shouted, "Your damn tickets are expensive!"
I veered to the right. Not far away, several Mlaan men with silver epaulets on their bronze space suits kept cleaning their automatic rifles.
Mlaan men and women, beings with strong legs and arms, excelled at fighting in the mountains. A muscular one hollered, addressing his companions, "Uin, aih!"
Near the bottom of my tablet, text scrolled. I'm tired of running! Harcus, the tyrant, the leader of the LN, must be conquered. At the same time, my sign switched to Mlaan. But they kept staring off to my left.
According to my database, new information, Harcus had organized the LN robots because he wanted to rule P L Five, Brynin and all the surrounding moons.
Not far away, an Amboa pulled a tablet out of his liquid-like hips. On my tablet, the response field remained blank. Despite the Amboa text and prices on my sign, he didn't want to buy a ticket. Damn, another failure!
I reminded myself that unless we filled up ST7 with paying passengers, cargo and paid a low price for one hundred and ninety milligrams of stable Level A tritium, we might be stranded at our next destination, the planet D24.
"A man without desire is a walking corpse."
Dseo proverb
Chapter Three
I stepped over a backpack as an orange male humanoid stood and aimed his face toward mine. Suddenly, he shook his tablet. On his cheeks and nose, I noticed many tiny scars. Although he resembled a Qoowo, his forehead was too narrow, he wasn't a member of that race.
I sent a message to him. Near the top of my sign, text and prices faded, and were replaced by the orange humanoid's message. My name is Pohum. Your ticket price is acceptable.
My tablet sent him an S.P. thank you message. After organizing archives, my tablet exported the guidelines for buying a ticket.
I walked by Aito teenage boys. Behind them, a short gray Aito male humanoid, a being in a sand colored jumpsuit, stood, trying to get my attention.
Close to the bottom of my screen, his message enlarged. My name is Deat. I need to buy a ticket.
I sent him purchasing guidelines.
His response popped up. I agree to your terms.
I walked, assuming that Pohum and Deat were close behind me. Then I circled several Aito men as a beautiful Dseo woman with shoulder-length indigo hair, and scaly fish-like skin, lifted her tablet.
Along the edge of my tablet, her message brightened. I wish to buy a ticket. My name is Bemme.
I sent her a text message, offering her instructions.
She nodded.
I meandered by Qoowo women as they began inspecting their helmets. Soon I glanced at Ulthe men as they frowned at my sign. Behind them, an attractive human woman in a violet spacesuit held up her tablet.
Near the bottom of my screen, her message brightened. My name is Tia. I need a ticket.
I responded. Tia accepted my terms.
Ulthe men, beings who were holding L21 pistols, ready to fight someone, started heading this way. I moved in another direction, hoping they wouldn't attack me.
Turon men with rocket launchers on their backs pivoted and frowned at me. Hopefully, they wouldn't follow us.
I glanced to the right as two nearly identical pale-yellow male humanoids, seven-foot tall beings with fan shaped ears, raised their tablets, wanting to get my attention. Although they resembled many Mlaan, beings who had dark cream-colored skin, these men's skin was lighter.
On my screen, text enlarged. My name is Palk.
He is Paley. We wish to purchase tickets.
I responded with the same message. Both of them agreed to my terms.
As we meandered through a dense crowd of tall Etite men and women, I glanced to the left, wanting to find one more paying passenger and packages. Otherwise, we wouldn't have enough money to pay our expenses.
Next to several Etite men, Ulthe women began complaining to a Qoowo male, "We're low on protein wafers, but we don't have enough money to buy more."
I veered in another direction, hurrying toward the exit while the smell of onions grew stronger.
Behind two Qoowo males, a short humanoid male with a white moustache and a large jaw, a member of an unknown race, began staring at me. Much to my surprise, he yelled, trying to get my attention.
His message appeared on my screen. My name is Yeliv. I wish to buy a ticket.
My tablet sent him a message. He accepted my offer.
Near the top of my sign, Ontx humanoid phrases, and shipping prices for D24 and Icir, replaced ticket fees.
The Ontx phrases faded---Aito text popped up. Sometimes the Aito, Qoowo, Ulthe, Glemal, and Etite couldn't communicate effectively because their languages were so different. The problem was that these were the only translation software applications I had.
Not far away, a short human with ebony hair raised his arm, requesting that I speak to him.
In the corner of my sign, his Aito response enlarged. I want to ship five packages. I will deliver them to your Series 7 in eight minutes, S.P. I will pay half now. The recipient on D24, a man named Dortan, will give you the rest of the money. I hope you can deliver the packages within a six-month deadline.
I sent him a message, explaining that I was interested. After examining my document, he exported a down payment into my tablet.
Close to the bottom of my sign, his message brightened. I will deliver the packages soon. He hurried away. He didn't pay enough to satisfy me, but I wanted to leave Brynin soon.
I walked as crowds of Aito men and women and their children swarmed around me. Behind them, an Etite male raised a tiny box, a fragmenting transmitter, a device used to slow down remote servers. He kept staring at it, the man didn't have any packages to ship.
I hurried toward the door as it opened. I went outside, headed for ST7. All around me, the pavement was empty. Everyone had gone inside the terminal.
Far away, beyond my peripheral vision, the sound of a Series Six engine roared louder. I looked up. But the sky was empty, no ships anywhere. I glanced to the right, trying to find out what was making the noise. Closer to the ground, four large black oblong starships, interstellar vessels with narrow fins and tiny oval windows, landed, about two hundred yards behind ST7.
The black spacecraft that was nearest to the terminal enlarged, making it easier for me to see the Series Six. There wasn't a logo or any letters on its starboard side. They were keeping their identity a secret.
On the belly of the Series Six, a ramp dropped to the pavement. As chills ran down my spine, silver robots, six foot tall androids with round faces, small noses, and a mahogany colored trapezoid shape in the middle all of their foreheads, started marching down the ramp. I looked more closely and observed that each one had a human-like neck and shoulders. In the center of their stomachs, there was an eleven-inch diameter hole, a cavity serving an unknown purpose.
Thirty robots reached the bottom of the ramp and pivoted, headed for the terminal. These might be combat soldiers, not routine maintenance androids.
I glanced to the right and noticed that the potential passengers were staring at them.
Deat complained, "I'll bet it's the beginning of an invasion. We'd better get out of here fast!"
Yeliv hollered, "Calm down or else you'll drive us crazy."
Deat scowled. "Two weeks ago, an LN destroyer shelled my home town, Hutow, for three days and destroyed most of it. I hate the LN!"
Feeling more worried, I hurried toward my ship. As Deat grumbled
to himself, I paused near its port side. "Everyone, form a straight line. Then I'll look at your ID, accept your payment, and issue tickets."
As my screen became bigger, everyone began staring at me, gloomy expressions on their countenances.
In back of them, a triangular spacecraft touched down on the runway. As I watched in horror, it flipped over, and exploded!
Everyone except Bemme flinched. After glancing over their shoulders, all of them turned away, and began staring at the burning wreckage.
Soon the flames, vermillion and amber, rose higher. Everyone pivoted, and glanced at me.
Tia cleared her throat. "I hope our ship doesn't crash."
Yeliv blinked nervously.
Bemme gnashed her teeth, but didn't smile or frown.
Everyone else remained stony faced. Perhaps they were too numb to care about the burning wreckage.
I walked, moving toward one end of the line, and halted in front of Pohum. A floating screen appeared, close to his tablet.
The information displayed said, Pohum Xis, a civil engineer who was born on P L Five, had a Masters of Science degree. In the last six years, his team had designed and erected several huge bridges in Butow, a town near the Orr River, just north of the equator. His ID portrait, an RGB device that matched his face, began turning clockwise.
After his portrait rotated ninety degrees, I was almost satisfied. It didn't seem as if he was an impostor.
Beneath it, ID text, S.P. amber, an official color, enlarged. This was the real Pohum.
I imported his payment and exported a ticket into Pohum's tablet.
I walked and halted in front of Deat. Like Pohum, his video began rotating. He had a small nose and tiny eyes. He was a biochemist from P L Five. For the last nine years, he had altered DNA and peptides for a pharmaceutical company named DCI.
Although the letters were somewhat hazy, they were authentic.
After a ticket had been exported, I took a few steps, and stopped, close to Tia. This woman, a female with a chiseled jaw line and a pointed chin, glanced at me.
Above her bracelet, a floating video, one with ID information, began rotating. She was a nutritionist from Uboz, a small town near the Oir swamps, a place that was just south of P L Five's equator. For two years, after studying the Glemal, Maar, and the Aito's eating habits, she realized that the lack of free radicals in these humanoid's meals helped them live much longer.
She was not an impostor. After exporting her ticket, I moved on, and halted in front of Bemme.
She spat, "Hurry up. Let's get out of here. Iqu."
She was a freelance interpreter from M3, a female who spoke Aito, Qoowo and English. She rarely translated books, ebooks, or emails. Her video began turning clockwise. It was authentic. I accepted her payment and issued a ticket.
I remembered that Iqu referred to the Noin's, a bat-like creature's, excrement.
I took several steps. Palk, a man who was a foot taller than me, had a small chin, magenta eyes, a long slender nose and a high forehead. He was half Qoowo, half Aito, an Aito history teacher from P L Five, a being who lived in a small town, Rirm.
In one of his classes, he talked about the relationship between the Gontile and the Braens, two humanoid races who insisted on building more tanks for wars. The Braens also demanded that everyone be computer literate. For the last thirty years, these two cultures struggled to reach agreements.
He was not an impostor. I exported the electronic ticket.
I walked. Paley taught Aito Statistics, probabilities, which detected patterns in buying habits, street violence, and Litor's effect on P L Five's three largest bodies of water, the Na Ocean, the Bib Sea, and the Gulf of Yole. Like Palk, he came from Rirm.
My tablet issued a ticket. I headed toward Yeliv.
He was an architect, a Gdii humanoid from Tis, a suburb on P L Five, 92.258N latitude -41.11W longitude. The pink skin around his jaw was lighter than his sunken cheekbones. Everything was authentic. He blinked as a ticket was exported.
I announced, "Everyone, we'll be taking off in about an hour. We'll open the doors fifteen minutes before we leave."
All of them nodded because their earplugs had translated my announcement.
Wanting to know what the robots were doing, I pivoted and faced the opposite direction. On the left side of the terminal, more of them started down the ramp.
A few hundred feet beyond the right side of the terminal, five black space ships, all of them nearly identical to the ones that had just arrived, touched down. Near the top of my screen, all of them enlarged as the tablet's telescopic lens zoomed in.
Close to one ship's nose, I noticed rows of large protuberances, housings designed to protect radio and optical interferometric telescopes. On the bellies of all five ships, ramps dropped. At the top of the ramps, robots, all of them resembling the androids on the opposite side of the terminal, started down, marching quickly.
Near the center of my tablet, Greg's name flashed, indicating that he was calling me.
"Can you hear me?" I blinked.
"It's busy, but I..." His voice began distorting.
"I..." It was replaced by a soft crackling sound.
I yelled, "Greg, where are you?" "I..." a garbled voice shouted. Perhaps he had been shot.
On the right side of the terminal, 15 more robots stepped off the ramp, moving toward the building.
In my mind's eye, years ago, after we reached Moon 21, Greg left ST7 and began speaking to Ulthe warriors. Instead of killing him, they told him where to buy fuel.
Today was different, his luck might have run out.
I imagined that Greg was wandering through Rawn, surrounded by crowds of frantic Aito and Ulthe.
I turned and faced ST7. At the same time, the passengers peered up at my ship.
Behind me, stomping footsteps grew louder.
Everyone glanced over my shoulder, staring at someone I couldn't see.
Tia and Yeliv's eyes opened wider, shocked. I pivoted, wanting to know whom it was.
Not far from me, I spotted a seven-foot tall robot with a smooth face, an android that kept marching toward us.
As chills ran down my spine, Deat sprinted past me, and began spitting a narrow stream of liquid at the robot's face. Deat leaped forward while his arms, legs and head shortened. He was changing into a gray blob. The blob struck the robot's chest---the robot fell backward---crashed to the pavement! Soon the blob spread out, covering the robot's head and chest as vapor rose out of the blob.
Close to the edge of the robot's shoulder, a small pole lifted several inches. At the top of the pole, a tiny sphere enlarged. A line of flame shot out of the sphere---hit the blob.
Then the center of the gray blob darkened. It started burning. As flames spread out, the robot grabbed the blob---threw it to the pavement. In a quick motion, the robot stood while the blob started crawling up his foot. The android reached down while a tiny ball emerged from its wrist. As a crackling sound, a noise coming from the ball, grew louder, a spark jumped out of the ball---hit the blob. The blob rolled down and bounced across the pavement. Without warning, the robot did an about face, and marched away, headed for the terminal.
After wiping sweat off my forehead, relieved, I pivoted and looked at ST7 as most of the passengers walked away from it.
Yeliv 's face tightened. "Jason, we're going inside the terminal to buy more food and supplies.
We have to."
"Understood. I hope the robots don't stop you."
Paley, Yeliv, Palk, Bemme, and Pohum, all of them with solemn expressions on their countenances, moved faster, not responding to my comment.
Wanting to know what Tia was doing, I looked to the right.
Beneath ST7's wing tip, she frowned at me.
"Every student in my computer lab is a C clone. They are the elite, the smartest human clones ever created. After graduation, each one will fly an OTA starship to a different planet in the OTA corporate empire. Because of their extensive training, C cl
ones can maintain plasma fusion engines, and interstellar computer networks."
T. T. Brown, 201.1 Object Methods instructor
Chapter Four
Tia started walking toward me while grumbling to herself.
After taking a deep breath, frustrated, I glanced at the pavement. The blob was still smoldering. I didn't know if the robot had been searching for Deat. It didn't matter. My first priority was leaving Brynin as soon as I could.
There was another problem. If the remaining passengers fought any robots, the rest of us might get killed.
I thought about the fact that all of my scanners were slow, outdated. Although my HMR tablet, a high-speed memory recall device, was faster than any of them, Deat's cloaking device had caught me off guard. I had spent too much money on photonic software, polymer resin computer cables, telescopes, spectrometers, and other equipment. Anyone with a superior tablet could fool me.
I looked up at Tia. She began watching me.
"Hiee. I'm Tia."
My earplugs translated part of her comment, "Hiee, an Aito word, means hello."
"I remember your name. I'm Jason Six Sixty Four."
"I'd like to leave now."
"We'll have to stick to our schedule."
Her eyes narrowed. "More LN robots may be invading Brynin soon."
"They're LN, not RIR?" RIR, Routine Installation Robots, stand-alone androids, maintained starships so they wouldn't break down. LN were Local Networked, their orders came from a nearby server.
"Probably LN."
"Are they pulse or continuous?" Pulse lasers fired in intervals. Continuous lasers never stopped, making it possible for them to carry far more data, trillions to quadrillions more bytes.
Tia scowled. "My tablet can't tell the difference between pulse or continuous."
I turned and faced the terminal. Near the edge of my screen, an LN robot enlarged. Text, the results of a recent scan, appeared below the robot. LN's TCP protocol cannot be deciphered.
