by Doug Hoffman
M'tak, I expect these furry little rug merchants to double-cross us at the earliest possible opportunity. But there must be great wealth to be gained at this other station or the head weasel would not have ponied up an antimatter egg of his own.
I heartily concur, Captain. These creatures seem eminently untrustworthy.
Right, so let's seal the deal. “JT, tell the Trader that he has a deal. We will give him 24 hours to present his representatives, their supplies and the antimatter at the boarding tube for departure.”
“Aye aye, Captain. Wait one...”
“...Captain, it seems that the traders would appreciate it if we could provide them with an escort to the boarding tube and transport for the egg and other gear.”
Sigh. “Fine, Lieutenant. Tell them they are limited to a metric ton of personal effects and that we will come and collect them in 24 hours.”
“Aye, Sir. Will do.”
Bower of Keneesh-ka-ka-kar
A breathless Ooshnar reported to his leader, having just agreed to the final terms of the deal with the Earthlings. It was not that the traders lacked communicators, but that no trader worth his salt would conduct business over one. “Uncle, we have concluded the deal with the aliens. They will send an escort to pick up our delegation tomorrow around noon station time.”
“Good, nephew. I am putting you in charge of this expedition, since it was you who brought us the opportunity. I believe a 10% share would be fair remuneration.”
“Thank you, uncle, you are most generous.”
“Naturally, since it is my antimatter at risk, I will be sending one of my subordinate traders as well. You can pick the third member of the party.”
“Of course, Trader. With your permission I will go and make the preparations.” With that and a parting bow, Ooshnar-tar-rak-ra left his great uncle's bower and headed back to his own to prepare for the journey.
After his grandnephew departed, the Trader called out. “Poonta-ta-ka! Attend me you worthless git.”
Shuffling into his master's presence, Poonta-ta-ka bowed obsequiously. “Yes, Trader?”
“I am sending you on the mission to the Ring Station. It will be your job to watch after my interests. I expect my grandnephew to try to double cross me if the opportunity arises so it will be your job to double-cross him first.”
“How should I do that, Trader? Is not the plan to have the aliens kill your cousin's enemies for a hefty fee?”
“I expect my cousin to double-cross the aliens and try to capture their ship, perhaps after they have killed off his enemies and had their own ranks thinned out in the process. You will have to be nimble and alert to thread the needle between Ooshnar-tar-rak-ra and the station Trader, both are shrewd merchants and practiced deal makers.”
“And if I fail?” Poonta-ta-ka asked in a quavering voice.
“Then I will be out a container of antimatter and you will no longer be a burden to me. Now go!”
Poonta-ta-ka quickly scurried off to make his own preparations. From behind the tapestries to one side of the Trader's chair Zooshnarak-kak-ka appeared.
“Are you sure Poonta-ta-ka is up to this task, Trader?”
“Probably not, but my senior wife promised his mother I would give him a chance to prove his worth.”
“The stakes are certainly high enough.”
“Truly. The way I see it, Ooshnar-tar-rak-ra will try to double-cross the station Trader who will try to double-cross him. If Poonta-ta-ka can play them against each other he might come out on top. If Ooshnar-tar-rak-ra wins out he will naturally return here to his family. Of course the improbable could happen and the deal go down as planned. Regardless, I will profit.”
“And if your cousin the station Trader triumphs?”
“Then we will have at least rid ourselves of these dangerous and unpredictable aliens, before they attract a visit by the minions of the Dark Lords.”
“A wise ordering of possible outcomes, Trader,” Zooshnarak-kak-ka said with honest admiration. Indeed, if there was one thing a scavenger of wealth admired more than a double-cross it was a double-double-cross, or was this a triple-double-cross?
Bridge, M'tak Ka'fek
Collecting the trader delegation, their baggage and, most importantly, the antimatter went without incident the following afternoon. The Captain sent Hitch and Jacobs with a pair of hover sleds to carry the party back to the ship. He also sent Aput, Brown and Samuels to guard the procession. This gave Aput a chance to get off the ship and broaden his experience. It also kept the grumbling Lt. Bear on board at the main weapons console.
Also on the mission was Mizuki Ogawa, carrying instruments to check out the antimatter egg before they brought the potentially explosive container on board. This caused Bobby a bit of anxiety as she climbed into the lead sled next to Matt Jacobs. She wore the same light armor as the SEALs, with Yuki Saito's katana sticking up behind her suit's bubble helmet. Yuki had given her the sword as a gift when she left to accompany the Captain to the M'tak Ka'fek in the Sirius graveyard. That had only been a few months ago but now seemed like ages in the past.
Sensing his helmsman's disquieted mood, Jack offered the junior officer words of comfort. “Relax Bobby, she is surrounded by a Marine fire team and two armored sailors, she'll be fine.”
“Yes, Sir. I know, but I still can't help worrying.”
Thinking back to all the times he had felt the same way about letting Ludmilla go off on a mission without him, Jack sympathized with the young officer. He remembered Ludmilla's insistence on being her own person, taking risks that caused him to worry every second she was not by his side. “You can't protect the ones you love from danger by sealing them off from the world. They must be free to be who they are, and face life's challenges on their own terms.”
“Besides,” added Bear from his console, “she's got that sword Yuki gave her. Anything that tries to mess with her will end up looking like sushi.”
This caused Bobby to smile. “Yes, Lieutenant, that they would.”
Jack looked at Bear and Bear winked. I do believe that Bear is starting to figure us humans out—at least the males. The last relationship advice he gave me was to bite Ludmilla on the back of the neck.
“On top of the escort, I've sent the SEALs forward to scout the route for possible trouble. The thing I'm most worried about is that egg. Our AM supply is on empty and we need that container full to pull off this mission.”
The ship's voice commented on the coming procedure. “I will be able to fully assess the condition of the antimatter container when Dr. Ogawa places the quantum sensors on it. I will also be able to detect if it has been tampered with, making it unsafe to bring aboard.”
“Good, M'tak. What is the status of the Kieshnar-rak-kat-tra quarters?”
“They are complete, Captain. As specified they are completely self-contained and isolated from the rest of the ship. The traders will only be exposed within the portside shuttle bay as they board, and I will vent that to space once they are sealed in their habitat.”
“You really think the fuzzy little twerps are that dangerous, Captain?”
“You never know, Mr. Bear. They could transmit disease or a toxic substance—unintentionally or otherwise—and kill or incapacitate the crew.” And I would not put it past them to try and hijack the ship, even if there are only three of them. “No, Lieutenant. I will not feel at ease until all personnel are back on board, our guests are safely locked away in their quarters, and the ship is well away.”
* * * * *
The antimatter container proved to be intact and 96 percent full—not short by enough to quibble about. The traders—Ooshnar-tar-rak-ra, Poonta-ta-ka and a third referred to only as Feeshkar—were quickly hustled into their quarters along with their pile of rugs, pillows, and trunks. The ship's AI sealed the traders in and proceeded to make them as comfortable as possible, adjusting temperature, gravity and lighting to suit the aliens.
JT and Mizuki were back on the bridge, the Japane
se physicist with a grin on her face that threatened to become a permanent fixture.
“Great job out there,” Bobby whispered to her. She glanced sideways at him and her grin became even wider.
“Lt. Taylor, have you entered the coordinates for the first alter-space transit?”
“Aye, Captain. This first one will be a long one, M'tak calculates 21 days. All combined, the three transits will take us a month an a half, two including crossing the systems involved in 3-space.”
“At least it should be a peaceful two months,” Jack replied. “Mr. Danner, take us out of here.”
“Aye aye, Captain.” Bobby grinned, eyes twinkling mischievously. “Departing Mos Eisley Station for parts unknown.”
“Mos Eisley Station?” the Captain queried.
JT chuckled and replied in his best Alec Guinness voice: “You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy.”
“Indeed,” Jack laughed, “certainly a fitting appellation. But I think I will reserve judgment on it being the galaxy's worst until we see this next space station.”
“Alter-space transit in four hours and twenty seven minutes, Captain,” Bobby called from the helm.
“Very good, Mr. Danner.”
Four hours and twenty seven minutes later the M'tak Ka'fek shimmered and fell out of 3-space into the hidden dimensions of alter-space.
Chapter 15
M'tak Ka'fek, Alter-space
The T'aafhal cruiser neared the end of the third leg of its voyage. It had been an uneventful journey so far, the two intermediate systems being both uninhabited and unremarkable in their composition. The Marines and crew spent most of the time in alter-space preparing for combat—either at the ship's weapon stations or in their suits of space armor. They had taken to playing a version of zero-gee rugby in one of the ship's cavernous shuttle holds, a rough and tumble game that even the bears enjoyed.
The trip for the confined traders was even more monotonous than for the earthlings. At first they passed the long days playing scheneek, a form of gambling played with three multifaceted dice. When Feeshkar went on an extended winning streak the others accused him of cheating and refused to play further. This left the three with nothing to do except look forward to the sporadic visits by the ship's officers.
The senior officers took turns conversing with the Kieshnar-rak-kat-tra via holographic projection. In one-on-one sessions, each of the three aliens attempted to cut private deals with the Captain and JT. Evidently it was every trader for himself in their culture. All three assured the Earthlings that the head trader of the station they were traveling to would be as ethically flexible as they were.
When it came to sounding out the Kieshnar-rak-kat-tra, Bear proved an exception. He received no offers of great wealth or untold riches in exchange for betraying his friends and throwing in with the alien merchants. He only conversed with the furry traders by himself on one occasion...
* * * * *
“Hello, my furry little prospective hors d'oeuvres,” Bear had greeted them on his first and only holographic visit to the traders' enclave. Since the Kieshnar-rak-kat-tra were about half the size of a human, the full grown male Ursus maritimus was a towering monster in their eyes. And though they did not know what hors d'oeuvres were, the toothy carnivore's smile gave them a strong hint.
“I was wondering about your home planet,” Bear asked them. “Are there a lot of your kind there? Do you have any natural predators? And what about climate? Does it ever snow?”
The traders' nervously clutched their tails and chittered to each other. Then, being senior, Ooshnar-tar-rak-ra replied, “We have no real home planet, Great Sir. Our people have been scattered among trading stations across this arm of the galaxy for as long as we can remember. Why do you ask?”
“Oh, just wondering. See back on Earth, the humans and my kind compete for space and food. I always keep an eye out for new hunting grounds—some place with plump prey and cold weather.” Again, Bear favored them with a toothy smile.
The traders commendably held their ground, but Feeshkar sidled sideways until the senior trader was between him and the frightening white apparition.
“If we think of any worlds that fit your requirements we will gladly let you know,” the senior trader replied, recovering his poise. “For a modest finder's fee we can search our network of contacts on other stations. I'm sure we can find something to fit your discriminating tastes.”
“You do that, Trader. And remember, taste has a lot to do with it.” With that Bear's projection faded out like the Cheshire Cat, his toothy grin the last part of his image to disappear. This caused Poonta-ta-ka to flee the audience chamber and seek shelter in his room.
Bear had arranged the special departure effect with the ship's AI, convincing the sentient computer that it was a common gesture of friendship on Earth, citing the works of Lewis Carroll as historical precedent. The frightened Kieshnar-rak-kat-tra found themselves alone in their quarters, feeling very far from home, with visions of polar bear smiles dancing in their heads.
* * * * *
Though it became apparent to the traders that the visiting Earthlings were only some form of projection, they none the less had been badly frightened by the massive white carnivore that called itself Loo-ten-nant Bay-er. After Bear's visit Poonta-ta-ka went catatonic for two days and Feeshkar developed a nervous tic. Only senior trader Ooshnar-tar-rak-ra seemed unfazed by the encounter with the large white carnivore, though the ship's AI reported that his caloric intake dropped precipitously for a week.
It took the Captain several days to figure out why the traders were suddenly so skittish when he or JT visited them. When he asked the other officers about their guests' behavior Bear claimed he had simply questioned the aliens about habitable planets in the area. A quick conversation with M'tak and Jack put two plus two together. Not wishing to fray the excitable aliens' nerves further, he excused Bear from future visits, which was exactly what Bear had wanted in the first place.
Base Operations, Farside
Billy Ray had just returned from a shakedown cruise of the latest ship to emerge from Farside's shipyard. The five day trip had been a pleasure cruise compared to his previous voyage. Captain Curtis had commanded that mission, the month long space trials of the frigates Constitution and Constellation. With Capt. Curtis in command on board the Constitution and Billy Ray captaining the Constellation, the new warships had traveled to the asteroid belt, out to Jupiter, and back to fly by Mars before returning to base. Though there were a few rough edges and minor equipment malfunctions, both captains were pleased with the performance of the new frigates.
They returned to resupply and exchange crews. Then, after only four days in port, Gretchen took the frigates out again, with new captains and crews—a training mission in preparation for the completion of the next pair of ships, due in just over two months. Though Billy Ray would have loved to command of one of the frigates again, he understood the necessity to get several crews, and several captains, trained on actual vessels. Besides, the newly designated Fleet HQ had other plans for the lieutenant commander from Texas.
In the month the frigates had been away—occupied by running their engines at flank speed, blasting small asteroids into rubble and other naval past times—two more spaceships had been completed. These ships were much less glamorous than the sleek and deadly warships. They were, in fact, rather unlovely: 200 meter long cylinders, 40 meters in diameter, rounded at either end. Inside their decks were arranged one on top of another, like a layer cake.
The two ships, named the Issac Asimov and the Arthur C. Clarke, were freighters, intended to haul hundreds of passengers and associated equipment to the new base on Mars. It was on the bridge of the Issac Asimov that Billy Ray spent the past five days, ensuring that the freighter could be reasonably expected to deliver its cargo and passengers to Mars, intact and alive. In its empty condition, the Asimov managed to pull a sustained 4G acceleration, topping out at 6G under emergency power. Wh
en heavy laden she was only expected to boost at a single gravity—a far cry from the +60G of the new frigates. Still, being in space, commanding a ship, was much preferred to being stuck on the shore.
That was because Beth was also spending much of her time in space, training corvette crews. Indeed, it seemed like fate and the high command were conspiring to keep the couple apart: Beth had departed on a two week training flight, but before she returned Billy Ray sailed on the Constellation; he returned a month later, but before the Constellation made port Beth departed on another extended training flight; then she returned, only to find that Billy Ray had departed on the Asimov. Continuing the frustrating game of ships passing in the night, Billy Ray returned the Asimov to port only to find a message from Beth on his communicator. She had been pulled off on yet another mission and would not be there to greet him when they docked.
Reporting in at HQ, a squeaky clean new ensign told him that he was to report to Col. Tropsha's office. “Colonel Tropsha?” Billy Ray asked, “not Chief Administrator Tropsha?”
“That is what the memo says, Commander, 'Lcdr. Vincent report to Col. Tropsha's office. Urgent.'”
“Right,” he said with weary resignation. After quickly getting directions from the data display in his jumpsuit's sleeve he was on his way. The new woven in units were rapidly replacing the formerly ubiquitous personal pads and smart phones. Only civilians and new recruits could still be seen carrying around network access devices.
There was yet another wet behind the ears ensign guarding the entrance to the Colonel's office. This one wore data glasses and welcomed him by name before he could introduce himself.
“Good afternoon, Commander Vincent. Go right in, she's expecting you.”
Entering Ludmilla's office Billy Ray had a sudden moment of indecision. Normally the Navy did not render the hand salute when indoors, but one was expected to salute when under arms or when reporting to the commanding officer. He was guessing that the reference to Col. Tropsha meant that Ludmilla was in command of the HQ in the military sense. Better safe than sorry, he thought.
