The Companions Unleashed
The Old Professor
Recovering
Rest at Sea
The Tunnel
A New Enemy
Run!
Fight!
Med Bots Unite
Gloria
Recharging to Go Again
A Final Battle
Bronwyn to the Rescue
A New Day
Leaving Atlantis Behind
White Beach
The Babies
Volume 7
Humans and the Intelligent Creatures
The Raid on Livestel
The President’s Warriors
The Chase Begins
A Party Divided
A Mountain Pass
Southport
The Aurochs
Trials
Delay
Tomorrow
Transitions
The Spaceship Traveler
The Fury Rises
Fight Fire with Fire
Feel the Burn
Recovery
Parting Ways
Volume 8
Land Ho!
Trent on the Eastern Ocean
Save Them from Themselves
Where did the ‘cats go?
A Mass Exodus
Reconciliation
Conquering the Beast
Desert Dust
A Welcome Unwelcome Surprise
Focus on the Objective
But First, Bring the Pain
The Plan, the ‘Cats, and Chaos
Who is in charge?
Ankhmar
The Great ‘Cat Rebellion
Volume 9
Bored
The Gathering
Friends at the Lake
A Gathering of Friends
Prepare
The Matter Transfer Chamber
Splitting Up
The First Death
When Nothing Is Something
The Fury
Run!
Ambush and Chase
A Conflagration of Wills
The Lizard Men
The Battle for Primacy
A New Day, A New Purpose
Cygnus Space Opera – Book 1
1. Fire!
Postscript
About the Author
Also by Craig Martelle
Free Trader
Books 1 - 9
1: The Free Trader of Warren Deep
2: The Free Trader of Planet Vii
3: Adventures on RV Traveler
4: Battle for the Amazon
5: Free the North!
6: Free Trader on the High Seas
7: Southern Discontent
8: The Great Cat Rebellion
9: Return to the Traveler
Copyright © 2019 Craig Martelle
All rights reserved.
* * *
Cover Illustration © Tom Edwards
Tom EdwardsDesign.com
Editing services provided by Mia Darien – miadarien.com
Formatted by Drew A. Avera
My friend Michael Anderle who provides constant encouragement
Acknowledgments
This journey started a long time ago when my brother Guy bought me the original Dungeons and Dragons® boxed set. This was early in TSR®’s existence, so we had to build our own dungeons, run our own campaigns. Then I attended GenCon in 1979 where I met James M. Ward. I bought Metamorphosis Alpha™ and Gamma World™.
I like the bio-engineered approach, the lost high-tech of modern worlds. Is there an Atlantis? Once I saw MA and GW, I was hooked. I read Aldiss & Heinlein. Post-Apocalyptic became my favorite genre.
Thank you James for inspiring this world and Guy for introducing me.
I also want to thank my good friend Bill Rough who is always there whenever I need a sanity check. This was the first sci-fi novel he’s ever read and he did it to help me out. He is the wisest man I know.
My better half Wendy had a great deal of input on the characters of this story. She was quick with ideas for what kind of animals she’d like to see and how she felt they could contribute. She wanted a companion snake, but I couldn’t do it. Snakes creep me out. We live in Fairbanks, Alaska, where there are no snakes.
1 - Ass
‘Ass!’
“You are such an ass!” Braden lay by the fire in the blanket he’d been using since he was a child. The young man’s long braid was wrapped around his neck like a scarf. He looked at the Hillcat, a scowl darkening his face.
‘It makes noises but no sense,’ the ‘cat responded over their mindlink. The ‘cat’s orange back, even with a man’s knee, had black dots and a black slash toward his tail. He was called a Hellcat by those who’d seen him make a kill, but not by Braden, his most loyal friend.
When he was a child, Braden saved a Hillcat kitten from drowning. At that moment they bonded, and instantly, Braden knew he had a lifelong partner. Many called the joining the ultimate pairing of friendship and joy.
It hadn’t taken long before Braden’s bond with the ‘cat felt like the relationship his parents had. Together their entire adult lives - annoyance, bickering, surrender, friendship, then more bickering, and intertwined throughout was a fierce loyalty. The old man would say anything about his partner, but if anyone else said something, the fight was on. Braden called the ‘cat an ass ten times a turn of the sun, but they fought their enemies together. They were there for each other.
And so it was, the relationship between a Hillcat called Golden Warrior of the Stone Cliffs, or simply G-War as Braden called him. The Hillcat had his own name, but even after ten cycles of the seasons, he hadn’t told Braden what it was. He insisted that Braden wasn’t mature enough to know his true ‘cat name.
As Braden glared at the ‘cat, G-War raised one paw in his mocking way of giving Braden the finger. The ‘cat turned around a couple times, sniffing the air, then faced away from the young man and dropped to the ground. G-War’s head was up, sphinxlike, his eyes closed. The ‘cat cut their link.
The ‘cat listened in on Braden’s thoughts, but Braden only ‘heard’ what the ‘cat wanted him to hear.
“I hate it when you do that,” Braden retorted, but knew that he could sleep now, without fear of surprise, as he did every night when the 'cat watched over him. Without G-War, Braden would have never survived his life as a Free Trader in Warren Deep.
2 –Binghamton
Braden always stopped where he could take a look, see how things were before he entered a community. Binghamton was hit or miss. Sometimes it was the best place to trade, other times, it was a great place to avoid.
Braden nudged his team of two water buffalo to a halt. He climbed down from the buckboard and walked to a small rise on the side of the road. He crawled the final few feet, not wanting to highlight himself. He took out his telescope, a gift from his father, nothing more than rough hide rolled with polished glass set at both ends, and scanned the road in front of him. He stopped at the collection of buildings that made up Binghamton. He looked from one to the other, not seeing any activity aside from the market square.
In the central square where the traders conducted their business, people gathered. Braden didn’t see any traders or their stalls. Everyone watched what looked to be a lynching. One person, probably a man, stood on a block of wood under a makeshift tripod, his hands behind him. Braden thought he could make out a rope tied to the man’s neck.
“Hey! Come over here,” Braden said to G-War.
‘So my name is Hey? Is it giving me a new name?’ Braden was never surprised how the ‘cat fixated on the trivial, when Braden was serious. He set himself up for it every time.
“Could you please come over here and take a look at this? I would like to know what you think.” Braden’s voice was laced with sarcasm. He even bowed slightly, as much as he could from his position on the ground.
The ‘cat padded lightly from under the wagon. He had been enjoying the shade. He stopped half w
ay there and squatted. Braden wrinkled his nose. He would never get used to the smell of ‘cat pee.
‘If that’s what it wanted, why didn’t it just say so in the first place? It knows how I love to say yes to its distractions.’
“Ass,” Braden said under his breath. He knew the ‘cat heard him. It heard everything. It saw everything.
G-War pinned his ears against his head as he crouched and looked over the rise.
He soon changed his position to sitting, with his ears up. He was longer than a man’s arm, not counting his tail, and had a slightly oversized head, necessary to hold a large mouth of spiked teeth and two sharp fangs. People not paired had an innate fear of Hillcats. Braden always warned potential customers to keep their dogs inside. G-War had a tendency to go after them if they barked at him. For anyone who saw a Hillcat make a kill, they would never forget the ferocity of it.
‘So the humans are killing another human. What of it?’
“But why?” Braden asked, expecting the ‘cat to have an opinion.
‘He cheated them, or so they think.’
“Did he?” Braden knew that the ‘cat could touch other minds on occasion, especially when a person was distraught. It made sense that the man’s thoughts were coming through loud and clear.
‘No.’ With that, G-War took a particular interest in licking his paw, then using it to groom the fur around one ear.
“That’s it? No?” He asked, hoping for more. No answer. “Do you think we should go down there?”
G-War stopped his grooming, looked back at the town briefly, and then turned to pad back to the wagon. ‘No.’
He didn’t think so, either. If Binghamton took to killing traders for a simple case of mistaken cheating, then he wanted no part of it. Braden would miss trading with them though. Binghamton made for a nice way point. There was always something they needed and something they had that could be traded elsewhere at a nice profit.
“Oh, well.” Braden took one last look through his telescope. “Let’s get outta here.” Braden turned his team around, facing them away from Binghamton before he climbed aboard. What he saw bothered him. Not death. He’d seen plenty of that, probably too much in his twenty cycles on the planet. What bothered him was how a town could unite against a trader. When he passed that word, no other traders would go there.
Traders were the life-link between the communities of Warren Deep. Binghamton just cut itself off from the rest of humanity.
3 - Detour
Braden back-tracked his team, then headed south on what looked to be little more than a game trail. It would take time and be slow going, but he knew it led them where he wanted to go. He grew up on the roads with his trader parents, where they showed him the ways around Warren Deep. They never allowed themselves only one way in. They never knew when they would need to avoid an area, or just disappear.
Braden’s water buffalo would never help him make a quick escape. His parents had used horses, but he couldn’t afford those. Not yet anyway. He counted on G-War’s senses to help them avoid trouble. And if all of that failed, he counted on the magical bow beneath the seat of the wagon. It wasn’t really magic. It was a relic of the past. It was a relic of the past, made in the before time. It was the Rico Bow. Its like would never be made again.
The bow was a black that seemed to absorb the light. It had a second curve at the top and bottom that helped guide the string, magnifying the power of the pull. He had seen a couple other bows like this one, but the others were modern-made of fine yew, and much longer. Very few people had the strength and size to wield one properly. Braden was not a tall man so he could never use a full-sized long bow. His Rico Bow, though, gave him a significant advantage over others in Warren Deep. No adversary could get close to him.
And that was the last thing he wanted. He preferred to be with his ‘cat, trade for a profit, and enjoy each town’s unique offerings. He liked to have a woman in each town. Many he happily paid for a few hours of their time. He was not yet ready to take a mate, for he was not wealthy enough to treat her properly.
Braden pulled out the bow as the wagon bounced along the trail. He heard G-War express his discontent with a low-throated growl as he scrabbled to regain his position on a small desk inside.
‘Stop. There are a couple rabbits that require my attention.’ With that, G-War was out the back and in a silent flash of orange, disappeared into the trees alongside the trail.
“I guess we’re stopping,” Braden said as he pulled back on the reins. Rabbit sounded good. He took out two of his precious hardwood arrows and jumped down, looking in the direction G-War had gone.
When they hunted together, a kill was almost always guaranteed. Most of the time, that meant Braden drove prey toward a waiting ‘cat that would strike from nowhere, going straight for an exposed throat. Using claws and teeth, the ‘cat made quick work of wild game. G-War avoided protracted fights or posturing. He said that was for mating rituals, not eating. When killing for food, quickest was best. When killing to survive, then kills needed to be even quicker.
Once in the woods, Braden stalked quietly, earning a harsh rebuke from the ‘cat. Braden’s idea of quiet was far different than that of a Hillcat. He stopped moving and watched. He couldn’t see where G-War was, but he could feel him close by.
The ‘cat had taught him to use all his senses. Braden sniffed the air. High country pines. Musty undergrowth. He closed his eyes and listened. A branch moving, tree bark disturbed. He looked toward the sound, squinting his eyes. About 30 strides away, a squirrel stopped running down a tree, motionless, head raised. Braden nocked an arrow, slowly took aim, and pulled back. He sighted in on the squirrel, then raised the point of the arrow slightly to account for the distance. He let go the bowstring. With a muffled twang the arrow split the air, driving through the squirrel’s neck. The body went limp, falling to the side, hanging where the arrow pinned it to the tree.
A heartbeat later, the high pitched scream of a rabbit pierced the forest calm. It was instantly silenced. A second animal ran wildly through the leaves and undergrowth as G-War closed the distance. Rabbits will bolt, zig-zag, run some more, then stop. G-War didn’t try to overtake the rabbit. He only wanted to be within striking distance when it paused. This rabbit had a little more spunk than most, possibly the smell of fresh blood and the size of the creature chasing it added fuel to its fire. But in the end, it hesitated and the ‘cat did not.
G-War collected both of his kills and headed back toward the wagon.
“Oh, you’re sharing with me? What a good kitty!” G-War hesitated for a second and then continued toward the wagon. The ‘cat didn’t waste time answering his ridiculous human. He wondered if all ‘cats had bipeds that were so inane. If only he had never fallen into that river, but alas, he was a kitten, young and unwise in the way of the world. He could have done worse, though. What if his human couldn’t hunt for itself? What if his human was a farmer - how inglorious would that have been?
Braden carefully removed his arrow from the squirrel and carried the kill to the edge of the woods. He used his trusty skinning knife to make short work of it. He used a notch in the tree to help him remove the fur. Squirrel hide is extremely tough. You have to wedge the tail into something and then pull for all you’re worth.
Once finished, it would make for a nice meal. With two rabbits, he figured G-War would have something left over. He watched the ‘cat tear into them. G-War had a particular affinity to the entrails. Braden didn’t mind as that meant there would be meat available for roasting.
He built a fire with a spit and put the squirrel on it. He checked back to see that the ‘cat had finished and was now cleaning himself. “Do you mind?” No answer. One carcass was almost completely intact. Braden made quick work of cleaning it and put it on the spit behind the squirrel.
On a full stomach, the world always looked like a better place. He heard a floorboard in the wagon creek as G-War jumped in, probably to curl up under the desk for a nap. The w
agon was mostly enclosed, on the sides by boarding and the top by a rough canvas cover, greased to keep the rain from getting through.
It was home. He could sleep inside the wagon, when they weren’t carrying a full load, or sleep outside, depending on the weather. The world was his oyster, or so his parents had told him, before they went to the great beyond. He wasn’t sure what an oyster was, but his mom made it sound wonderful.
The bow was a gift from his dad. His dad never shared where he had gotten it, even though he hounded him about it until his death. Braden didn’t like unanswered questions. Like Binghamton. What happened there?
Braden wanted knowledge. He also wanted wealth. He wasn’t afraid to take risks to achieve either.
It came to him clearly as he held his Rico Bow. He needed to find Old Tech. His routine trade route wouldn’t get him what he wanted. He needed to step outside of the norm, maybe even leave his wagon behind. A trader without a caravan. That would make him unique!
Free Trader Complete Omnibus Page 2
