by K. Rowe
face first, and dropped his knee right in the middle of Schmuff’s back. “How dare you! How dare you bite me when I showed you kindness!” Dar held the blade to Schmuff’s throat. “Why did you do that?!”
“Churee, kaptaw,” he grunted. “Eg vag efkraid.”
“What?” He got up, keeping his distance. “What are you saying?”
Schmuff skittered over to a corner and held his arms in front of his face in a protective manner. “Eg vag efkraid.”
“Afraid?”
“Ga. Efkraid je jzurt mekka.” He made motions like someone was beating him.
“Afraid I’d harm you?”
“Ga.”
“Schmuff, I only grabbed you because I wanted to know why you were running off. I had no intention of harming you. I meant what I said about not beating slaves.”
“Nak?”
“Nak,” Dar replied.
“Churee, churee, kaptaw.”
“Is that sorry?”
“Ga, churee.” He stood and slowly approached Dar. “Eg nagt tek ewebbe geed eginar.”
Dar rubbed his face. “Oh, I wish you spoke Ontarrin, this is gonna be a long few months.”
“Eg’ll treech je Nouian.”
“Are you saying you’ll teach me Nouian?”
“Ga!”
“Well, we got about fifteen months til we reach Newrillis, and I have no idea how long for Marcy’s refit. So, we’re gonna have lots of time together.”
“Kaptaw?”
“Yeah?”
Schmuff pointed to the Ceriddium mix tank. “Eg figged.”
Dar walked over and noticed a rather dodgy looking patch on the tank. “You fixed it?”
“Ga.”
“Are you sure it’ll hold? Doesn’t look very sturdy.”
“Ga, set dak.” He pointed and nodded.
“You say it will? So we can make warp?”
Schmuff nodded again and held up three fingers. “Wak treig, nak mog.”
“Warp three? No, more?” He was beginning to get the gist of Schmuff’s language.
“Ga.”
“All right, thanks. But if that patch blows, you’re cleaning up the mess, okay?”
“Ga, unkerstundd.”
Unlocking the heavy door to the outside, Dar swung it open and was met by two Newrillians. He was docked at the Newrillian space station; a place he’d been a few times before. The alien species stood roughly six and a half feet tall, had dark green skin, and walked upright. Their faces had wide noses, large blue eyes, with a heavy brow ridge above, and what looked like peshine-like gills in front of their small ears. They weren’t a water-based society, so Dar wondered what function the odd appendages served. He’d never worked up the nerve to ask them either. “Hello,” he said softly, speaking in Newrillian. Despite their small ears, their sense of hearing was very acute. Loud noises tended to startle them. “I am Captain Dar Meltom, and this is the Marsuian. I was sent by Gwog of the Cunik to request a refit.”
“Come with us,” one of them said. The Newrillians were a mostly male-dominated society; so much of what Dar encountered on his trips here were males. The females tended to stay home and care for the younglings. They were a highly advanced species, especially when it came to weaponry. Prices weren’t cheap, but the weapons always lived up to their performance specifications.
He was taken to a small office and instructed to have a seat. Several minutes later, another male came out. “I am Kerner Noh. How may I help you?” he asked.
“I have a ship in bad need of a refit and I was told to bring her here.”
“We can help you with that.”
“Good, good. I don’t know how much it’ll cost, but Gwog told me to ask for a Gorrin…Gorrin…” he couldn’t remember the last name, since not all alien species used them.
“Algok?”
“Yes, that’s it! I was told that if the refit was more than I have, I could request credit for the rest.”
“You’ll have to see Gorrin about that. My job is to evaluate the ship and draw up a refit estimate.”
“Well, the Marsuian is pretty old.”
“Shall we go have a look?” Kerner asked, grabbing a clipboard.
“Yes, please. I know she’s at least fifty years old.”
“Fifty!”
“Well, from what I can see of the log book. Gwog said that despite her age, she’s not in bad shape.” Dar led the way to the port Marcy was docked at.
“How much did he say needs to be done?”
“Engine, weapons, and the cargo holds all need upgrading.”
Kerner shifted hands with the clipboard. “So, basically everything.”
“He did say the hull is in good shape.”
“I’ll be the judge of that…And we’ll need to take your shuttle out for a look.”
“Not a problem,” Dar replied. They reached the dock. “Here she is.”
He looked out the observation window. “Quite old. Origin?”
“Satiren.”
“Hmm, Satiren. Don’t think we’ve had a ship of that manufacture in decades.”
“I won her in a poker game on the Sirrix space station.”
Kerner headed down the entry tunnel. “Won it in a poker game, huh?”
“Sounds strange, I’m sure.”
He stopped at the hatch, pulled a scribe stylus from his pocket, and commenced his inspection. Dar followed along, not saying much. He figured Kerner knew what needed to be done. They went through the bridge and over to Dar’s cabin. “Captain?” Kerner asked.
“Yes?”
“I’m sure you’d like your quarters upgraded.”
“Oh, yes! Very much so!” Dar pointed to the bed. “I have three empty crates from Priddin jerky holding my bed up.”
“That doesn’t sound particularly comfortable.”
“No, and not doing wonders for my back, either.”
“We’ll get that fixed up.”
Four hours later, Dar and Kerner finally finished. Both had a clear understanding of what the old ship needed; and Dar now felt the pain of how much it would cost: over five million drig. He groaned as he looked at the estimate. “This is far more than I expected.”
“I’m sorry, but to get your ship up to current standards, it’s not cheap.”
“I know, I know. I guess I’ll be talking to Gorrin.”
“He’ll probably finance you—with interest, of course.”
Dar sneered. “Of course.”
Kerner was silent for a few moments. “Uh, there is one thing…”
“What?”
“I happen to know our engineers are working on an advanced warp engine.”
“So?” He wasn’t sure where Kerner was going with this.
“So, say you were to agree to an experimental testing of the engine. It would give you the top of the line prototype.”
“With what strings attached?” Dar asked, rather skeptical.
“At certain time increments, you bring the ship back here for them to download the information gathered, and they will make adjustments to it as needed.”
“Doesn’t sound too bad. Can you check into that for me?”
“Certainly.” He made a few notes. “And as far as the weaponry goes, they offer a few programs too.”
Dar looked around the ship. “I’ll take all the help I can get.”
Kerner tore a scrap of paper off his clipboard and scribbled some information on it. “Here’s a contact name for Eglig Modew, he might be able to find you a few freight hauling jobs to help start making some drig.”
“Thank you, thank you very much. I appreciate all that you’re willing to do for me.”
Dar left Kerner and headed toward the engine room. He figured Schmuff would be working there. As he entered the aft bulkhead, a wonderful aroma reached his nose. “Oh, where’s that coming from?” He sniffed a few times, trying to find the source. There was only one place it could be: the galley.
He hurried along, the smell making his mouth water. Dar won
dered what it was. It smelled like braised bovidis shoulder, one of his favorites. The closer he got, the stronger the fantastic aroma got. Finally reaching the galley, he burst in the door and stopped dead. On the table was a large metal baking pan, a bovidis shoulder nestled inside with a few Gardinian tubers and some Iddrian beans. The skin on the shoulder browned to perfection.
Rubbing his eyes, he thought it was a hallucination. He swallowed all the saliva that poured into his mouth. The feast that lay before him looked like pure perfection. The only other person who could do up a bovidis shoulder like that was his mother. “Hello?” Dar called, not sure if there was someone else on board besides himself and Schmuff.
“Kaptaw, sigg doag.” Schmuff came from the kitchen. “Eg sho dignaar.”
Dar sat down at the table. “You made this? You made dinner?”
“Ga.” Schmuff grabbed a large knife and presented it to him. “Je kaptaw, je shev.” He motioned for Dar to cut the meat.
“Shev?” Dar wasn’t sure of that word.
“Shev.” He made motions of cutting the meat and serving it out.
“Ah, you want me to serve?”
Schmuff nodded, then disappeared into the kitchen. He returned with a bottle of Vigurian wine and set it on the table. Taking his seat, he patiently waited while Dar sliced the meat and served it.
“Where did you learn to cook like this?”
“Mekka mogginar.” He patted his stomach and made a motion like a youngling coming out. “Mogginar.”
“Your mother?” Dar handed a plate to Schmuff. “My mother’s a great cook too.”
“Ga, mogginar. Eg niss mekka mogginar.” He made a motion like he was being pulled away. “Mogginar frookn akway.”
“She was taken away?”
“Ga, nuuw slevea.” Schmuff pointed to himself. “Slevea—je owank mekka.” He pointed to Dar. “Je owank mekka.”
Dar took a bite of the bovidis shoulder, it almost melted in his mouth. “Okay, now you got me confused…Are
