by Isaac Hooke
“I seem to recall you wearing your guns back at that terminal,” Tane said.
“About that,” Nebb said. “Well, see, the terminal is considered private property. I pay the necessary bribes to the terminal owner, I can bring my guns with me anywhere on the property. It would be like you on your hydroponics farm. You carry guns around there wherever you please, hey? I’m assuming you live on a hydroponics farm... seeing as your profile says you’re a hydroponics farmer and all. Anyway, if I decided to leave the terminal behind for the city proper, I’d have to surrender my weapons. See how that works?”
“Go back to our quarters, Farmer, and call your parents,” Jed said dismissively.
“I was just about to,” Tane said, a little indignantly. The Bander wants to order me about, does he? Tane paused. “Wait, our quarters? Don’t tell me I’m sharing it with you and Lyra?”
“Not Lyra,” Jed said.
“Good,” Tane said, relieved.
“Just me,” Jed finished.
“Ah,” Tane said. Not so relieved. But then he smiled suddenly. “Good luck fitting in there with that armor.”
“I’ll fit,” Jed said.
Tane shrugged. “I don’t need a babysitter.”
“He’s not there to babysit you,” Lyra said. “There really isn’t much room aboard this ship. There are two guest quarters. In the one I’m staying in, the bed is essentially vertical. With the artificial gravity vector pointing straight down, it’s not very comfortable to say the least. I’d be happy to give it up to you.”
“Actually.” Tane said. “You know what? That’s all right.”
“After I make the jump I’ll have no problem sleeping vertically,” Lyra said. “Believe me.”
“The exhaustion is that bad, huh?” Tane asked.
“More than you could ever imagine,” Lyra replied.
With that, Tane left.
He made his way back through the tight passageways to his quarters and squeezed in beside the bunk bed. He still couldn’t see Jed fitting in here. Unless he could shrink his armor down to the skin, he’d have to take off gear entirely before coming inside. Maybe that was what he planned.
Tane sat down on the lower bunk and composed a message to his parents.
“Mom, Dad,” Tane said. “I got away. I’m not supposed to say much, as the authorities are apparently listening in.” The ship’s AI was probably eavesdropping at that very moment as well. So that ruled out any mention of the aliens. “But anyway, I’m all right. We’re headed toward our destination. The person I’m with says she’ll arrange passage for you when we arrive. So I’ll see you soon. Stay safe.”
Tane finished his recording and selected the “send” option on his HUD.
10
Tane joined Nebb for supper in the tiny compartment that served as a “wardroom” that evening. A long table set with a stained cloth used up most of the available real estate in the rectangular room. On the table, a small metal tray contained silver utensils stacked together, and dispensed napkins on one side. Lyra and Jed excused themselves when Tane arrived. Probably because the place could only sit three, and neither Lyra nor Jed wanted to remain alone with Tane and Nebb. Or maybe they both finished at the same time.
Lyra was in bad shape. Her face seemed pushed-in in places, with huge dark circles under her eyes, and her complexion was somewhat sallow. She walked with a slight limp, and hunched visibly. Making the second jump had obviously been extremely taxing on her. She hadn’t been kidding when she said she’d have to rest for most of the day afterward.
As Jed squeezed past, Tane noticed that his armor was gone and he was dressed in simple blue fatigues, like one might find aboard a military vessel. Either the Bander had removed the armor, or it had the ability to retract entirely. Maybe into his belt? Tane didn’t know. Earlier Tane had tried IDing the gear, but all he had gotten was the title “Battle Armor” and everything else was unknown.
The pair left tall glasses on the table, the insides coated in a thick, milky substance. The serving robot must have already taken their plates.
Tane maneuvered into the tight space between the table and the bulkhead and took a seat. He stared hungrily at the dish of cooked fowl Nebb was enjoying. The smuggler had the whole bird on his plate.
“So when do I get some chicken?” Tane said.
“Oh, you don’t get chicken,” Nebb said. “We don’t carry enough in the freezers for the passengers.” He glanced at a side entrance and whistled. “Laser Bait!”
Tane’s HUD labeled that side entrance “galley.”
A serving robot rolled in. It looked like a small metal cylinder on treads, with arms ending in pincers. It had a digitally animated visor on the head region that displayed two eyes via 2D vector graphics. The thin lines composing those eyes were currently situated wide apart, as if the robot were either scared or eager to please. Maybe both.
Tane glanced at its profile.
Name: Laser Bait
Nickname: El Bee
Race: Robot.
Model: Alfred valet droid Mark III Rev a.
Level: 3
Class: Service and Maintenance
Tane realized this must be the second robot crew member Jed had reported after his inspection of the ship.
“Laser Bait?” Tane said.
“At your service!” the robot said in a proud male voice. Eager to please, then.
Tane glanced at Nebb. “You called your service and maintenance robot Laser Bait?”
The smuggler shrugged. “From time to time, when things get tough, we’ve been know to send him out into a firefight to provide a distraction. We give him an energy shield before doing so, of course. He’s quick on his wheels.”
“Quick on wheels!” the robot echoed.
Tane stared at the robot with a furrowed brow. “Certainly a feisty one.”
“You may call me El Bee if you wish,” the robot said.
“If you wouldn’t mind, Big El, fetch our guest his meal,” Nebb said.
“Yes boss!” El Bee said with affected breathlessness. The robot wheeled from view and returned a moment later carrying a tray in one arm. It promptly deposited a tall glass of thick milky liquid in front of Tane. El Bee retrieved the two empty glasses Lyra and Jed had left behind and departed.
Tane stared at the glass in confusion. “Drinks first?”
“Mmm?” Nebb said between mouthfuls. “Oh. No, that’s your dinner.”
“Um. As paying passengers, I guess I assumed we’d be getting real food.”
Nebb winked at him. “Only the captain gets real food. Sometimes my jump specialist, too, when I’m feeling generous. What do you think this is, the navy?” He chortled as if that were the funniest thing in the world.
Tane lifted the glass to his lips and smelled. The contents gave off no noticeable odor. He tilted the glass slightly to one side, and the liquid flowed like a thick milkshake. He salivated at the thought, but when it reached his lips and he took a sip, he nearly gagged at the flavor. This was anything but a milkshake. It tasted like a cross between dirt, eggs, and raw fish. The texture was fairly gross, too: slimy, gritty, and outright lumpy in places.
Tane swallowed, and some of the icky liquid went down the wrong way. He coughed frantically.
“Try not to hack up a long or anything,” Nebb commented, chewing away contentedly at his chicken.
When the coughing fit finally subsided, Tane exclaimed: “What the hell is this!”
“It’s your standard ship-side meal replacement,” Nebb said. “Quit your complaining. It’s got all the nutrients and calories you need.”
Tane shook his head. “I can’t drink this.”
Nebb downed a piece of smoking white meat. “Starve then.”
Tane gazed at the chicken but realized the smell no longer appealed to him, not with his taste buds soured by that foul substance.
He gazed once more at his glass, then held his nose and forced himself to swallow in small sips because he needed the s
ustenance.
“Goes faster if you chug it all at once,” Nebb said.
Tane shook his head. “I’m good.” He was content with sipping. He didn’t think he’d be able to hold it down if he drank it all at once.
“Well well well.” A female voice drifted into the wardroom from the direction of the galley. “Looks like you bought us some fresh meat.”
Tane recognized the voice of the jump specialist, and he felt suddenly nervous, his heart rate picking up.
A woman sat down beside him, carrying a glass of that thick milky liquid. She glanced at him and gave him a somewhat weary smile. When she did so, her cheeks dimpled, and the corners of her eyes crinkled in the cutest way. Her hair fell to the center of her back in a tight braid, but loose ringlets in front tumbled carefree down her face. She smelled like cheap perfume. Tane liked it.
She wore a flowing white dress that covered her shoulders and revealed no cleavage. Her arms were bare, though. A black utility belt surrounded her waist, and like Nebb had promised, she carried a plasma pistol strapped to her hips.
She was far too young to be Nebb’s lover. Daughter, maybe.
“Kid, meet our resident jump specialist, Girly Girl,” Nebb said with his mouth full.
She frowned. “It’s Sinive. And I’m the furthest thing from a Girly Girl. Me, pink lipstick, and glue-on nails, let’s just say we don’t get along.”
“Whatever you say, Girly Girl.” Nebb grinned and bit into another piece of chicken.
Sinive rolled her eyes. “And you know I hate it when you talk with your mouth full.”
Nebb purposely opened and closed his mouth while leaning toward her. “Ga ga ga.”
“Ah!” She looked away in disgust. “I have to drink this crap with that imagery in my mind? Keep it up and this table will be covered in milky white vomit.”
Nebb finally stopped. He calmly cut himself another piece. “That’s what the table cloth is for.”
Sinive glanced at Tane and said: “Stop looking at me like you’re in awe of me.”
“Is that what I’m doing?” Tane said.
“Yes!” Sinive said.
Tane looked away. “Sorry. You’re the first jump specialist I’ve ever met.” And cute as hell.
“Don’t get out much, do you?” she commented.
“No,” Tane admitted. He was starting to feel a little less nervous. He glanced at her again, accessing her public profile.
Name: Sinive Ruggiero
Race: Human
Level: 4
Class: Jump Specialist
His eyes dropped to her flowing white dress. “You know, your dad has a point.”
“He’s not my dad,” Sinive said.
“Your boss, then,” Tane said.
“He’s not my boss, either,” Sinive said.
Tane looked at her in confusion. “Then what is he. Your husband?”
“No!” she said in frustration. “He’s my mentor.”
“Your mentor?” Tane said.
Nebb glanced at Tane and grinned. “I’m teaching her the ways of smuggling.”
“In exchange for room and board, I jump him from system to system,” Sinive said. “He’s teaching me all the routes. The best places to buy and sell for profit.”
“So you’re not getting paid...” Tane said.
“Like she said, her payment is learning,” Nebb said.
“Though eventually, if you want to keep me, you’re going to have to start giving me a salary,” Sinive said.
“Eventually,” Nebb agreed.
“How long have you been working for him for free?” Tane said.
“A year and a half now.”
“Don’t you think it’s time for a salary?” Tane said.
“It costs money to maintain a starship,” Nebb told him between mouthfuls of chicken. “I’m barely breaking even as it is.”
Tane addressed the jump specialist. “You know we’re paying him eighty thousand credits to bring us to Talendir, right?”
“What!” Sinive said. “He told me it was five thousand.”
Nebb’s face became a stark crimson. Tane wasn’t sure whether it was because he was embarrassed or angry.
“I’m not completing the final jump unless you pay me,” Sinive said.
Nebb shrugged. “Fine. The Volur will do it.”
“Then I quit,” Sinive said. “Good luck finding someone to jump out of Talendir for free.”
“All right,” Nebb said. “I’ll pay you five thousand when we reach Talendir.”
“Five!” Sinive said. “More like fifty thousand.”
“You’re not worthy fifty thousand,” Nebb said. “For twenty I could hire a replacement to work for me for a year.”
“You really think you could trust them not to report you to the TSN for smuggling?” Sinive said. “In fact, I might just do that. Consider my payment part hush money, and part back pay.”
Nebb turned on Tane and said, sourly: “You and your big mouth.”
Tane shrugged. “If you can’t pay your crew properly, maybe you shouldn’t be running a ship.”
“I already told you, I was training her,” Nebb said.
“That’s a good point.” Tane turned toward Sinive. “Maybe he shouldn’t owe you as much back pay. His training has to count for something.”
“That’s right,” Nebb told her.
“I learned most of the routes a year ago,” Sinive said. “You haven’t taught me anything new since then. Fifty K in back pay, or I leave. And report you.”
“I’ll think about it,” Nebb grumbled.
The three of them remained quiet for the next several moments. Tane listened to the smack of Nebb’s lips as the smuggler ate the chicken. Sinive glared at Nebb the whole time.
“Maybe one of the requirements of your staying on is that you get to eat a whole chicken for supper, too,” Tane told Lyra.
“Yeah,” she said. She was stilling glaring at Nebb. The smuggler ignored her.
With a sigh, she averted her gaze, and took a sip of the milky liquid contained in her glass. She grimaced, shaking her head slightly as she swallowed.
“It doesn’t get any easier downing this stuff, does it?” Tane commented.
She looked at him, a milky mustache decorating her mouth. “It’s an acquired taste, apparently. And I still haven’t acquired it after all this time.”
Together they sipped in silence, watching Nebb eat. Tane found himself wanting to talk more to this mysterious woman who could work the Essence well enough to create distortion tunnels for a ship, but he wasn’t sure where to start. He was also still nervous: she was fairly cute after all, and he usually stumbled over his words when talking to an attractive member of the opposite sex for the first time. He had done okay earlier because he had dived in immediately without thinking about it too much. But now that he sat there, pondering what to say over and over in his mind, he found himself getting more nervous by the second. It didn’t help that Nebb was throwing him dirty looks every few bites now, as if trying to warn him not to speak to her again; perhaps he was worried Tane might give her more ideas. Or maybe he considered himself kind of a father figure to Sinive, a protective father figure at that, and he didn’t want the likes of Tane talking to her.
I’m just a hydroponics farmer, after all, a part of his mind told him.
Yes. But they’re smugglers, the more confident part of him chimed in.
Finally he screwed up his courage and opened his mouth.
“You know, Nebb has a point,” Tane told her. There, that wasn’t so bad.
She merely looked at him, seeming annoyed above her glass of liquid grossness. The frothy white mustache on her lip helped make her seem less intimidating.
Tane swallowed. “If you’re not a Girly Girl, then—”
“Don’t call me that!” Sinive said.
Not the reaction he was expecting. “If you’re not a Girly Girl,” Tane repeated. “Then why do you wear that long, flowing dress?”
“And who are you to judge me?” she said. “Outrimmer? You with your archaic laws and regulations. Maybe I like how dresses fit. Maybe I like the freedom of movement. Maybe I find shirts and pants uncomfortable.”
He decided to ignore the Outrimmer comment. “Maybe you do,” Tane said. “So... okay, never mind.”
He took a sip of his drink and the disgusting liquid helped distract him. The nerves were fading again.
“So...” Tane said. “Jump specialist. You trained with the Volur?” He couldn’t help the slight awe that slipped into his voice. Anyone who wielded the Essence was only slightly removed from the divine, in his eyes.
She gazed at him crossly. “I told you not to look at me in awe like that.”
“Sorry.”
She stared at him a moment longer, then her features softened. She gave him a patient smile. “The Volur? Naw. I was never powerful enough in the Essence for the Volur to even consider me. I trained with the TSN. Did my five years. It was either that or become a sore-whore-ity girl.”
“Sore-whore-ity girl?” Tane asked.
"Yeah, sorority,” Sinive replied. “Never mind."
"No, I get it,” Tane said. “Though I always thought the military was just one big fraternity—or sorority—anyway."
"A sorority on steroids, maybe," Sinive said. “When my service term was up I didn’t renew. Started working for private companies and individuals. And here I am.”
Tane processed everything she had said, then asked her: “If you weren’t powerful enough for the Volur to consider you, how are you able to open a distortion tunnel?”
