“Well, he doesn’t sound like a killer to me, but if you think they can do what we need done, it’s worth having a talk, since that’s fairly cheap. Perhaps the two of them can force the CCA to pull back to where we were last year, no more murders, or if they can get to Egerton and Gregos, their deaths might scare the others into a truce. Lord knows we can’t force that to happen ourselves. We can manage to pay for two hired guns, but they’d better be damned good with a gun. At least we can make sure we’re seen in Plains or Bison when they stage a hit or when a raid happens. It only takes mere suspicion to get us killed and our homes burned.”
****
The ship ended its Jump several hundred miles above Chisholm, and entered orbit. It was promptly contacted by planetary traffic control, responding to the craft’s automatic identification transmission.
“Wanderer, this is Chisholm Orbital Control, what is your request?” Arriving Jump ships rarely had advance flight plans on file. It was customary to provide basic identification and registration on arrival, to the local Artificial Intelligence traffic system computer, and to enter an equatorial orbit at two hundred to five hundred miles.
“Control, I’m here on a business trip, to provide security consultations for a number of your ranch owners. I request approval for a shuttle landing at a city named Cayuga, which I’m told does not have a spaceport.”
“Roger, who in your party will be landing, Wanderer? Your ship’s AI says you are registered from Koban, a planet outside Human Space. We don’t have diplomatic relations with your place of registry. Everyone landing with the shuttle will have to meet the Cayuga sheriff for identity verification, and to discuss your business here.”
“I’m Ethan Greeves, the pilot, and my only companion on this ship is Kit Greeves, my sibling by adoption. We’ll both be landing by shuttle, and we’ll leave the ship in orbit.”
“Your ship’s configuration appears to match that of a Krall clanship, which can’t be accurate. They were defeated, and their fleets destroyed more than a year ago.”
“Your sensors are accurate, but you conclusions are not. This is one of the thousands of captured clanships, which my home world claimed as spoils of war. We use them for shipping and passenger transports.”
“Be advised that my traffic system AI did not find your name on a list of expected visitors for the Chisholm Cattleman’s Association. They have an office for Kingsland continent, located at your destination of Cayuga, but their AI in Canyon City, on Queensland, doesn’t list your names, or expect you. Are you a freelancer for security?”
“Sort of. We’re independent contractors, but the CCA is not who invited us. My only contact was with a member of another business organization. The Stock Growers Association I think they were called.”
There was a long pause, and then another voice replied on the frequency. “This is shift supervisor Wiggins, of Chisholm Orbital Control. The CCA computer does not have a record of your invitation. You are not authorized to land your shuttle at Cayuga without their approval. You need to land your ship at the Canyon City spaceport on Queensland, and prepare for inspection and to provide your entry permits.”
“Sorry, I’m going to Cayuga, and I told you that my ship will remain in orbit. I happen to know your entry rules don’t require that procedure for ships from the Planetary Union, or for shuttle landings.”
“True, but they do apply to any Rim World ship, and you acknowledged that you are not from any of the Hub worlds of the PU, so the agreement with them doesn’t apply to you.”
“You need to widen your horizons, Control. I’m from the capitol star system of the Galactic Federation, thus definitely not from a Rim World in Human Space. The GF controls many thousands of worlds and millions of stars compared the entire seven hundred twenty or so planets in all of Human Space. I wasn’t invited here by the CCA, so I don’t intend to meet with them, either in Canyon City or at Cayuga. Although, I may do so later. I was merely informing you that I was landing my shuttle at Cayuga as a matter of curtesy, not asking you for permission. It isn’t as if you have crowded skies here at Chisholm, and you do advertise you have open ports of entry for your cattle businesses. I’m here for cattle business. I’ll check in with the sheriff at Cayuga after landing.”
Wiggins wasn’t having any of that. “Negative. Land for inspection at Canyon City, or your ship will be impounded.”
“Well, you don’t have the authority or means to make me do that, but good luck if you can find her after we leave her in orbit. The stealth system on this former warship is better than that used by the PU navy, so I doubt if you’ll find her after my AI changes position. Wanderer out.” And he switched off the radio.
“Bandit,” he addressed his AI, mentally using his internal Comtap system. “Kit and I will take the shuttle down, but I want you to remotely fly it back to the ship after we disembark. I don't want to risk leaving it on the surface. You can send it back down to us if we need transportation.”
“Yes, Sir. I heard you say I will place the ship in stealth mode and change orbits after you leave.”
“Right you are, and avoid anyone if they come searching for you, and notify me or Kit.”
“Yes, Sir.”
He turned to his sister. “Kit, let’s take a ride down to the surface. Do you want to drive?”
“Very funny, little brother. That yoke and its controls assume a pilot has hands. Put simple AIs in our shuttles and I’ll use my Comtap to tell it what to do. It’s not like it should really require thumbs.”
“Not a bad idea. I’ll mention that when we get home. I’ll let you watch my masterful piloting technique, something for you to try to match in the future.”
“Hope it’s better than your stalking technique when we hunt. I’d prefer not to starve or die here.”
“Humph,” was Ethan’s miffed response to an argument he couldn’t refute.
****
Cayuga didn’t have a spaceport, but it did have an airfield suitable for light aircraft or a shuttle, if not a large or busy place. Ethan followed the published standard procedure, broadcasting on a generic Chisholm airfield radio channel in order to coordinate with other possible traffic. Flying a shuttlecraft, he had the capability of landing vertically, his radar hadn’t reported any nearby airborne traffic, and there was no sign of any movements on the uncontrolled airfield. All he did was broadcast that he was inbound for landing, and announced his position.
He was surprised to receive a reply. Not one that sounded friendly, and not particularly well spoken, either.
“You’d best fly back to yore ship, and land it o’er at Canyon City, like ya was told ta do by thet Orbit Control feller.”
“And who might you be?” Ethan asked.
“Depity Claghorn, of tha Cayuga Sheriff’s Office,” the self-important sounding voice answered, with a distinct rural accent, and who humorously pronounced office as “orifice.”
“Well Deputy, the people I came to Chisholm to meet are expecting me at Cayuga, so that’s where I’m landing. As a no-customs and Free Entry planet, for anyone that is not from a Rim World, I’m exercising my right to land there.”
“No ya ain’t. You ain’t fum any PU warld. I’s told yore fum some place called the Glactic Fedration.”
“It’s called the Galactic Federation,” Ethan corrected, “and I’m from the planet Koban, located there. Your planetary Space Craft landing regulations, section two, paragraph four, requires any arriving Rim World ship to pass through customs, and be subject to inspection. Anyway, my cargo ship is still in orbit and I’m in a small shuttle. I told you I’m not from A Rim World; I’m from the GF, which is equivalent to the PU, but much larger, and there are no restrictions listed in your regulations as to where I can land.”
He knew why the regulation exempted only the PU, because when it was written there was no such thing as the recently formed Galactic Federation.
He decided to explain why the rule existed, in a way the backwards sounding deputy might
grasp. “Deputy, the regulation is aimed at providing preference to ships from the Planetary Union, your largest customer, and not a Rim World competitor. The Federation is larger than the PU, we don’t have customs for any ships and we allow Free Entry, same as Chisholm does for the PU. That Rim World regulation doesn’t apply to me, or to my ship, and Chisholm ships could land just as freely on Koban. Therefore, I’m landing.”
This was sort of a moot point, because the location of Koban wasn’t widely known, and commercial shipping from Human Space hadn’t started yet, and certainly not from Chisholm. A normal human would be ill advised to try to land a ship there without serious motivation, and armed protection against the native animal threats. Although, a gun wielded by a normal human might not make them much safer on Koban.
The deputy was out of his depth, not having the slightest idea what his planet’s regulations said, or why. The only shuttles that used this airport were also based on Chisholm, and the deputy had probably never heard of an off-planet craft arriving at Cayuga. They were hardly a hot bed of tourism, or a center of interstellar shipping.
Nevertheless, the deputy wanted to assert his authority some way. “Er, ya best stick to yore shuttle until me ‘r Sheriff Mackinnon gets out to the arfield. Ya gotta prove who ya are and whar ya’r fum. If ya ain’t there when we gets thar, we’ll arrest ya fer disobeying a legit order fum the law. We’ll impound yer shuttle.”
“No problem. We’ll both be waiting for you. I see there’s something listed for the airport called a cantina, with vending machines for drinks and food, located in a small building next to the largest hangar. That’s where we’ll both be. How long will we have to wait?”
“It ain’t mor’n five minutes drive fum tha edge a town. Don’t ya leave ‘fore we gets thar.”
After a noticeable pause, as Claghorn assimilated what he’d just heard, he said, “Wait…, yew said two of ya? I warn’t told thar’s anyone witcha.”
“Yes. It’s me and my big sister.” He smiled at the not-so-minor deception.
Then the deputy tried to be sly. “Who ya meetn’ here? I can tell ‘em yore here, or bring ‘em out wid us.”
“No thanks, I’ll do as they asked and keep their name confidential.”
“You’ll be tell’n Sheriff McKinnon whut yore bidness here is,” he warned.
“Perhaps my business, but I don't have to say who with. I’m about to land so I’ll be busy for a few minutes. We’ll be waiting for you.” He switched off the radio.
Kit looked at him with her piercing blue eyes, and through her embedded Comtap, her humor and scorn at his claim he would be busy was fed directly into Ethan’s mind.
“Where’s that piloting skill I’m supposed to learn to match? You’ve been on autopilot the entire way down. I guess I should be happy, since now I know I’m going to live long enough to hunt on this world.”
He was a bit defensive. “Part of a pilot’s skill is to use the built-in navigation and flight controls. I’ve never been here, and the space cadet we first talked to and that last nit wit never provided me with any information.”
They settled low over the empty tarmac, and hovered on the reactionless gravity drive to move closer to the big hangar, where they touched down lightly, with only a hum of the engines. Ethan activated both doors of the double hatch, bypassing the airlock capability, and stood to exit the rear of the craft.
Kit held back and let him pass. Ethan looked back at her from the first airlock hatch. “You coming or what?”
“In a moment. I decided I want to be the one to send the shuttle back to the Wanderer.”
“You grow thumbs while my back was turned?”
“No, I have a mind. I watched you fly. I can do just as well.”
She spoke to the AI on Wanderer. “Bandit, as soon as I shut the outer hatch, I want you to return the shuttle to its landing bay.”
“Yes, Kit.”
“Crap! That isn’t you doing the flying,” her brother complained.
“It’s as much as you did the flying. I’m using an AI to use the same autopilot you used. That’s simply another step removed from your lazy method. If lazy was the goal, I win.”
She stepped out of the hatch and pressed the key pad to close it before Ethan could object. Instantly, the hum of the reactionless drive increased and the craft lifted straight up, and drifted away at increasing speed and altitude. Kit looked smug as she smoothly wandered towards the small building of the cantina, in her naturally sinuous movement.
Ethan tried to take some of the smugness out of her aloof attitude. “Nice move genius. You left my valise with several changes of clothing, all my toiletries and even my pistol aboard the shuttle.”
She didn’t even glance back. “What, you expected me to carry them? No fingers or thumbs, remember? You’re the great pilot who walked out the hatch empty handed. You have the advance you were paid, so buy more stuff here. I don’t need a tooth brush or a change of underwear, and I’m never unarmed, so it comes out of your half of our advance.”
Exasperated, he followed her to the cantina in the same oddly graceful and smooth motion, hoping she’d have to ask him for his fingers and thumbs to use the damned vending machines. He’d charge her something for his service.
****
The deputy’s promised five minute drive from town stretched into almost an hour, and the meager selection in the vending machines had been disappointing, except for a rather tangy tasting local dark beer. The machines would accept a credit chit, Chisholm credits, or Hub credits. Ethan had a credit chit that he waved past a reader that confirmed his biometrics; making certain Kit saw him pointedly using forefinger and thumb as he did that.
It was actually the first time he’d been anywhere he needed to use that method of payment. Chits were growing in use back home, but Federation credits were new monetary units, although many young Kobani still used the barter system. Fed credits, as they called them, were nearly worthless anywhere in Human Space.
He’d brought along some paper Hub credits, which was the most widely accepted currency, if you did the unusual and paid in cash. An electronic chit, with whatever amount you selected from your personal account registered on it, was the most common means of purchase. It also contained your identification, and biometrics that restricted its use. It was a common method of payment, being easier and safer to carry.
He also carried Kit’s chit, since the lack of pockets was an issue for her. Use of money was a relatively new concept for her anyway, although she knew exactly how much of her personal account was contained on her chit. She saw nothing in the cantina machines that appealed to her, and complained in a grumpy tone.
“On Koban they now stock machines similar to these with flash frozen small animals, which are heated to life-like temperature when delivered. This place is backwards.”
Ethan shrugged. “I think what appeals to you would not only seem backwards here, but barbaric even to a backwoods cowboy. They might like a longhorn steak served rare, but a raw dead animal, fur or feathers attached, would turn their stomach. At least if eaten the way you do, ripped apart and entirely consumed.”
“I always strip off feathers,” Kit defended her snack choices and preparation. “At least I didn’t waste my credits on four beers that can’t possibly intoxicate me. I wish they had fresh cream or tuna.”
Ethan sipped his fourth brew. “This beer has more than alcohol, it has a good flavor. Even if they were half alcohol, it wouldn’t matter, since I can’t get drunk. I don’t buy alcoholic drinks for anything but their taste.”
She was bored. “If we aren’t going to start walking to town, then I’m going to lie down and take a nap.” She went into the adjacent vending alcove, flicked off the overhead lights with a paw swipe, pushed the door nearly closed, and picked a spot on the floor in the now dim windowless room.
Ethan sat with his feet propped on a table and his chair tilted back precariously on two legs, and sipped his fourth pint of locally brewed Brown Dog
Porter. Eventually, he dozed for a time in this position, hand on his beer, arm on table, chin on his chest, with two chair legs straining to support his deceptively high mass body.
His exceptionally keen hearing heard the approaching vehicles when they were at least a mile away. He sipped his beer again, kept his feet on the table, and wondered why there was the sound of one truck and two cars coming towards this small airfield. They were driving fast on the gravel road, and through the grimy front window, he saw a gray dust trail rising above the far tree line at the edge of the cleared landing area.
On their arrival, an hour ago, he’d noticed there was an unusually wide-bodied shuttle parked in an open fronted large hangar. It appeared to be designed to haul livestock, and it was a very heavy lift transport. A smaller, better-built hangar next to it had a closed lift door, suggesting it probably housed a privately owned personal aircraft or shuttle. Perhaps someone was coming to use the airfield, but it seemed more likely that the sheriff and idiot deputy were coming, accompanied by more people than could fit in two cars.
Interesting, he thought.
He didn’t bother to say anything to Kit. There was absolutely no doubt she had heard the sounds, and if she didn’t feel like abandoning her nap yet, he would sip his beer and wait.
Soon, a flatbed truck with slat sides came into view; a tarpaulin rolled up and tied at the back of the cab revealed four men standing in the rear, holding onto the side slats for stability. Through the windscreen, three more men could be seen in the cab. It was obvious why the truck was leading the pack, with its uncovered rear bed, when out of the dust cloud behind them appeared two utility vehicles in trail, with their windows tightly closed to keep out the dust. The following vehicles had large gold stars painted on the front doors Ethan could see, and another one on their hoods. Sheriff and deputy, apparently, but why in two cars and following a truck?
Koban Universe 2: Have Genes, Will Travel Page 6
