Pet Trade
A Central Galactic Concordance Novella
Carol Van Natta
Pet Trade (A Central Galactic Concordance Novella)
Copyright © 2017 by Carol Van Natta
Published by Chavanch Press
All rights reserved.
Except for use in any review, this literary work may not be reproduced in whole or in part by any means, including electronic or photographic, in whole or in part, without express written permission of the author. All characters, places, and events in this book are the pure invention of the author; they are fictitious and have been used fictitiously, and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is strictly coincidental.
Cover design by Carol Van Natta
Illustrations by Nyssa Juneau
Contents
Description
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Also by Carol Van Natta
Free Excerpt from Overload Flux, Central Galactic Concordance Book 1
About the Author
An injured veterinarian and a cyborg with unusual pets must join forces to save their town.
The vast Central Galactic Concordance strictly prohibits genetic experimentation and alteration of humans on any of its 500 member planets. Animals aren’t so lucky.
On a frontier planet, veterinarian Bethnee Bakonin made a home for herself in the frozen north. Her minder talent for healing all kinds of animals would ordinarily assure her success, but her unwilling stint in the shady pet trade industry left her damaged and scared. She works around her limitations as best she can, and rescues pet trade castoffs.
“Volunteered” for a black-box research project, elite forces Jumper Axur Tragon now has dangerous experimental tech in his cybernetic limbs. He escaped and crash-landed a stolen freighter in the northern mountains of a frontier planet, only to discover a secret shipment of designer pets was part of the cargo. Determined to do right by them, he enlists reluctant Bethnee’s aid in caring for them—a definite challenge, considering Bethnee is terrified of him.
When greedy mercenaries come raiding, can Axur and Bethnee work together to overcome their limitations, with help from their unusual pets, and save the day?
Pet Trade is a standalone novella in Carol Van Natta’s multi-award-winning Central Galactic Concordance space opera, adventure, and romance series. Its events take place between Pico’s Crush and Jumper’s Hope, but is separate from the main story arc. Pet Trade originally appeared in the limited-edition Embrace the Romance: Pets in Space 2 anthology for charity.
1
* Location: Frontier Planet Del’Arche * GDAT 3241.155 *
Veterinary medic Bethnee Bakonin limped toward the cage slowly. The huge dire wolf inside stood and eyed her with wary interest, but not fear or anger. The wolf’s bright blue, intelligent eyes contrasted beautifully against her thick coat of charcoal grey and black fur. Bethnee reached out with another thread of her talent to get a sense of the designer animal’s health. “Where did she come from?”
A capricious, chilly wind blew a dust devil into the center of the paddock, then let it go. Fall always arrived early in the foothills of the northernmost mountains on Del’Arche.
“A boutique alpaca ranch down south. New client.” Nuñez frowned and crossed her arms. “Idiots thought a top-of-the-line, protector-class dire wolf would make a great herd dog.” She made a disgusted sound. “They were going to shoot her because she wouldn’t let the herd out of the barn. I convinced them to sign her over to me.”
Bethnee eyed Nuñez. “How much did she cost?” Designer animals from reputable pet-trade dealers weren’t cheap. Recreating extinct mammals from Earth’s Pleistocene period was perennially popular, because it avoided the Central Galactic Concordance government’s multiple prohibitions against altering cornerstone species like wolves and coyotes. Bethnee had been saving her hard credits to buy her own flitter, instead of constantly having to borrow Nuñez’s, but the rescued dire wolf took priority.
Nuñez shook her head. “Zero. They bought her cheap with a flatlined ID chip, so she’s probably stolen. I told them I’d take care of the problem for free, and that it’d be our little secret.” Knowing Nuñez, she’d pushed them with her low-level empath talent, so they’d be afraid of getting caught, and happy to be rid of the evidence. Nuñez had no compunction against using her minder talent to manipulate humans who hurt animals, which was one of several reasons why she and Bethnee got along so well.
Bethnee focused on sensing the wolf’s mind. The fleeting thoughts were complex, with deep memories. The wolf had known and felt pack love for other humans, but hadn’t seen them for a long time. The ranchers had beaten her to get her into the cage, and she didn’t know what she’d done wrong.
Bethnee contained her talent and her anger, then told Nuñez what she’d found. “She’s also got tracers in every major joint. Can I use your small surgical suite this afternoon?” The portable unit contained micro surgical tools with an AI-assist built in, and would make quick work of the excisions.
“Sure.” Nuñez tilted her head toward the doors of the vetmed clinic behind her. “Let’s get her inside.”
“Does she respond to a name?”
“Didn’t come up.” Nuñez looked at the clock. “I’ll make you a deal. After I put the flitter away, you help me feed and water the yaks, and I’ll help you with the tracers.”
“It’ll snow tonight.” Nuñez lifted the last bulky bag of feed and unsealed it. At age one hundred and nine, the woman looked like a plump rural grandmother who printed heritage quilts and baked cookies, but she was strong and smart, and could control a herd of fifty large buffalo with her minder talent.
Bethnee took the bag. “The weather AI doesn’t think so.” She angled her hip so she didn’t stress her bad leg, then reached high to pour the bag’s contents into the hopper.
“The yaks say otherwise.” Nuñez took the empty bag. “They’re huddling in the corner of the pen near the barn. Weather AI says it’ll be a bad winter.” She gave Bethnee a meaningful look. “You could move back to the clinic.”
“We’ve been…” Bethnee began, then sighed. “I’m fine where I am. It suits me.”
Nuñez continued as if she hadn’t heard. “Still plenty of room in the clinic. You could live next door, because that hateful Raloff family abandoned the property to move deeper into the mountains.” She headed for the sink to wash her hands. “If we shared the clinic again, you could actually leave town for more than a few hours and know your animals were safe, and maybe have your leg fixed. You’re too young to be a hermit. You’re homesteaded now, and the town would be happy to have you.”
“No, they wouldn’t.” Bethnee followed Nuñez to the sink. “Too many people considered my animals a nuisance.” She pointed her chin toward the big cage. “The first goat or child that went missing, they’d accuse the dire wolf. Or Jynx.” Unusual snow leopards, no matter how well behaved, scared people who didn’t know them.
As Bethnee washed her hands, Nuñez turned on the mini-solardry. “It was only the Raloffs and Administrator Pranteaux who complained, and he complains about everything.” They both rubbed their hands vigorously in the warm, forced air. “Come on. Let’s take care of your new wolf.”
Bethnee was grateful that her friend hadn’t gotten into the real reasons Bethnee couldn’t move bac
k. A lot of frontier settlers like the Raloffs had moved away from the Central Galactic Concordance member planets to get away from minders, and everyone knew she was one, because she used her talents as well as her training to treat pets. Word got around.
More importantly, even though she’d escaped her former life in the pet trade three years ago, she still couldn’t get within five meters of any man without taking the chance she’d be shaking like a leaf from mind-numbing fear. When she’d first arrived, she couldn’t even be in the same building. She’d gotten better with time, but it was bad for business when she couldn’t deal with nearly half the population of customers.
Nuñez claimed it was post-trauma stress, and just like her leg, it could be treated by competent medics and minders. Even if that were true, it would cost hard credit, and she needed every decimal she had to provide for her animal family. They didn’t care that she was too scared and too damaged to live among humans.
2
* GDAT 3241.155 *
Axur Tragon fought the rising wind to land the old runabout as gently as he could on the Tanimai community airpad. He retracted the canopy and climbed out, then stepped around back to open the hatch and untie the two covered carriers. “Almost there,” he crooned.
He slung the straps on each of his shoulders, then walked to Tanimai’s vetmed clinic. His cybernetic legs weren’t pretty, but they gave him a long, smooth gait, even when carrying a thirty-kilo load.
He’d only been in town a dozen times since he’d landed three hundred local days ago on the frontier planet of Del’Arche. Crashed, really, but his former Jumper Corps flight instructor said as long as the pilot and passengers crawled away, it counted as a landing.
He hoped the veterinary medic wouldn’t turn him away. Between his intimidating height, his long, shaggy hair, and his bizarre and heavy metallic poncho, he looked like a disaster refugee with mental issues. Throw in the scars and the visible cybernetics, and he probably scared birds from the sky.
The shallow lobby was open, but deserted. He stepped up to the wallcomp. “Hello?”
An older woman’s face appeared on the display. “Be there in a minute. Set the carriers on the table.”
He complied, after first testing the table to make sure it would hold.
Moments later, the interior sliding doors opened and revealed the woman he’d spoken to. She had black hair streaked with silver, and a pleasant smile. “I’m Aniashalaman Nuñez, the VMD. Call me Nuñez.” She looked up at him from her considerably shorter height. “You must be the ex-Jumper, Axur Tragon. You’re as tall as everyone says.” Despite her Islander complexion and facial features, her accent was pure Standard English.
He returned her smile. “I’m actually short, for a Jumper.”
Nuñez laughed and shaded her eyes as she looked up. “From down here, you all look like trees to me.” She tilted her head toward the table. “What can I help you with?”
“I have some, uh, pets, and these are sick, I think.” He shoved his hands in his pockets under his heavy poncho. “To be honest, I kind of inherited them, and don’t know much about their care, except what I read in reference manuals. They all did okay in the spring and summer, but lately, these aren’t.”
“How many pets do you have?” Nuñez crossed to the table and lifted the cover on the first cage. “Ah, birds of paradise. Three females and a male. Are they mated?”
“No clue. To answer your first question, seven if you count species, and twelve animals total. I think they’re all designer, rather than domestic.” He tilted his head toward the second cage. “I don’t even know what some of them are.”
Nuñez lifted the cover of the second carrier. “Great balls of chaos, what a...” Nuñez pulled the cover off completely. “...chimera.”
Axur suspected she’d censored a less diplomatic description. He couldn’t blame her. Kivo was German shepherd-sized, but the resemblance ended there. He had black and brown stripes in his short, sleek fur, and six legs with clawed paws for running and catching. Gigantic, bat-style swivel ears sat on his broad, flat head. He had two tails with tufts of black fur on the ends. He was a prime example of what the anti-pet-trade activists railed against: tinkering with Terran genetics to create whimsical animals that would have never survived in the wild, much less natural selection. Kivo might be a genetic mess, but he was also the sweetest, most laid-back beast Axur had ever met, and was patient with all the animals, even the miniature dinosaur that often mistook Kivo’s tails as something edible. “Kivo’s usually interested in everything, and eats anything, but not for the past week. The birds just huddle in the bottom of their cage and won’t go out.”
Nuñez made a face. “I might be able to help with the birds, but Kivo is about as far off my chart as you can get. My patients are large herd animals and the occasional terrier or tabby. You need a specialist.” She glanced up at him and sighed. “As it happens, I know one of the best in the galaxy, but she’s not…”
A cacophony of goose honking from somewhere in the building interrupted. Nuñez glanced toward the back and frowned. “Sit a minute.” She pointed to a lobby chair, then strode through the doors she’d come through and vanished. The doors slid quickly closed behind her.
He dragged the chair closer to the table and sat, putting his face closer to Kivo’s cage. The chimera rolled back in the cage and exposed his striped stomach. “Sorry, buddy, no belly rubs until they give me permission to let you out.”
Axur looked up when the clinic’s outside doors opened to admit a tall, willowy woman with shoulder-length, deep blue-black hair and Asian features. She carried several bags and a box, and walked with a pronounced limp. She glanced at him, startled. “Does Nuñez know…” She trailed off as her attention riveted on Kivo.
After a long moment, Axur answered her unfinished question. “Nuñez asked me to wait here.”
She darted a look to his face and awkwardly backed up several steps, dropping one of the bags. “Oh.”
He started to stand and reach out to help her, but froze in mid-rise when her eyes widened in unmistakable fear. Her hand visibly trembled as she awkwardly scooped up the bag, then fled through the doors to the back.
He sat down again with a sigh. It never paid to play the shoulda-coulda-woulda game, but starting a year ago, it was hard not to wish for a different star lane for his life. He’d never been nova-hot beautiful like some in his squad, but he’d never lacked for companionship and bed partners for his twelve years in the CPS Jumper Corps. Then, unbeknownst to him, he’d been secretly selected for a CPS “special project” that changed him forever, including adding valuable experimental tech to his cybernetics.
Now he was an ugly mass of biometal and hardware that made him a walking, talking satellite uplink. Only the heavy poncho he’d kludged together from salvaged supplies kept him from constantly broadcasting his unique comm signature to the frontier planet’s various satellites, and from there to the Central Galactic Concordance’s intergalactic communications network. If he uncloaked, his days of freedom remaining would be measured by how fast a CPS ship could get to Del’Arche to hunt him down.
Kivo whined. Axur stuck his fingers into the cage again and tried to shake off his melancholy. He’d lived, and so had Kivo and the others, and life was hope.
Ten minutes later, Nuñez strode back into the lobby, looking harried. “Thanks for waiting.” She put her fists on her hips. “I have an emergency, so I’ll cut to the chase. I can’t treat your pets, but Bethnee Bakonin can. She’s the woman who just came in. She’s already seen you, and that’s usually a deal-killer for her, but if you keep your distance and don’t make sudden movements, she’ll look at your animals.” Her chin jutted out pugnaciously. “She’s a pet-trade expert, but she’s also a pan-phyla animal-affinity talent, so if you dislike minders, you can jet right now, ‘cause I’m one, too.”
Axur put his hands flat on his thighs. “Minders are just people. I don’t care if she uses dark energy magic, if she can help Kivo
and the birds.” He pointed a thumb toward the front doors. “I could wait outside.”
Nuñez shook her head. “No, she’ll need information from you. Just move your chair away and stay seated.” She glanced at his stained pants and worn combat boots. “I’ll assume you’re not offering hard credit. What are you trading?”
“Fall harvest gourds, berries, and leafy greens. If it’s more than that, we can negotiate.” In the planet’s official financial transaction records, the town’s economy was barely a blip, but it did a thriving business in trade. From what he’d gathered, the settlement company took a percentage of all financial transactions, but hadn’t found a way to close the trading loophole, so they often conducted unannounced audits, trying to catch the town breaking the rules so they could levy hard-credit fines. They took a percentage of those transactions, too.
Nuñez nodded. “Fair enough.” She gave him a considering look. “Bakonin is like most high-level animal-affinity talents, better with animals than people, and like a lot of us here in Tanimai,”—she looked pointedly at the visible scars on his neck and jaw leading up to his disabled skulljack—”she’s had a hard life. Be respectful, and she’ll do right by you and the animals. Scare her, and you’ll never see her again.”
Axur didn’t miss the unspoken warning that he’d never trade in town again if he did anything to make Bakonin bolt. “Understood.”
He carried the chair to the far corner and sat, then hunched over to rest his elbows on his knees. It was as short as he could make himself.
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