by Blaze Ward
“He was,” Aileen agreed.
“I would not want to Greco-Roman wrestle with one of his kind,” Lazarus admitted. “Probably tie me into a knot without a lot of effort. With any sort of melee weapons, however, that’s a whole different story.”
The way he said that last made Addison’s tailtip twitch. Fortunately, it was hidden inside his coil, so nobody noticed. He was studying the human’s face. Saw the depth of potential violence his kind apparently just took for granted.
“What kind of weapon are you thinking about?” Addison had to inquire. “Wybert’s spear?”
“No,” Lazarus shook his head. “Too obvious. Maybe a sap or a length of pipe about as long as my forearm.”
“Sap?” Aileen’s face was as scrunched up as Addison wouldn’t allow his to become.
“Small bag, made of either leather or a heavy cloth.” Lazarus held up his palm as if cupping a ball. “Maybe a pound of sand or lead dropshot inside. Generally not a lethal weapon in a fight.”
Generally not a lethal weapon in a fight?
Not for the first time, Addison wondered if his greed had overcome his sense. Eha might agree, by the time he saw her again at Zhoonarrim, and he had no doubts about that coming event.
But greed was all that kept him from having the human killed. Locked in his quarters with the life support cut until he suffocated, perhaps. Poison in his food. Something.
Ajax was out there. Addison had come to hang his hopes on that vessel, wherever it was.
He just hoped it wasn’t leading him and his entire species unto death.
“At Zhoonarrim, you can defend yourself,” Addison decided. “Non-lethally. Most likely, nobody will even care who you are, so I won’t confine you to the ship, but stay away from fights if you want to remain a crewmember. Am I understood?”
“Perfectly, sir,” Lazarus said. “I’ve given almost the identical speech myself.”
Yes, he probably had. Being a Director was a universal thing, regardless of species.
“Dismissed,” Addison sent them on their way with no more glower than the headache behind his eyes that stubbornly refused to leave.
At least he was being honest with himself he hoped, as they left him alone in his office. His greed had the potential to overthrow the Innruld, either in the form of an alien warship, or the sudden availability of a new species that outnumbered everyone else in space and might hopefully be friendly.
Against the risk that the Rio Alliance panicked at the discovery of Innruld Space and made common cause with Westphalia to conquer a thousand new worlds and simply replace the Innruld as the ruling class for the galaxy.
The dice had been cast.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Lazarus
“What is the purpose of this tool?” a deep voice intruded on Lazarus as he worked, so oblivious to the world that someone had snuck up on him.
He glanced up and saw only the wall of the primary cargo bay in front of him, dominated by the latest stacks of cargo that Aileen had caused him to rearrange, adding capacity when he could do things easily that the rest of the crew could not.
Movement on his left drew his eye. Ereshkiki Nisab, the Qooph Systems Mechanic, a blue-gray wheel of polished marble with arms coming out of the axle on both sides and six eyes and six mouths around the inner circumference of the twin rims.
Lazarus had been so focused, so lost inside himself, that the Qooph had rolled right up and settled on a deflated hex facing.
Sounded about right.
He held up the thing in his hands. Leather. About seven inches long and wide enough to wrap around his left forearm like a bracer. Aluminum plate from ship’s stores had been cut into strips, and Lazarus was almost done gluing them individually to the backing leather. Thadrakho had promised that his sewing machine had the necessary torque to punch through the leather that would wrap both ends and seam the design.
“It is a secret, Ereshkiki Nisab,” Lazarus replied, making contact with the central eye on this side. “A shield I can wear under my shirt.”
How did you tell which eye to look at, if three of them could all turn your way from different parts of the rim?
“Shield?”
“It will go around my left arm, strapped tight and hidden under my shirt sleeves,” Lazarus continued.
“Again, what is the purpose of this tool?” the Qooph pressed.
“If someone attacks me with a knife, I can block them without being cut,” Lazarus replied, letting some of the seriousness out of his soul. “Similarly, if they swing a club, it will not break my arm if they hit me there.”
The talk with Addison had left him more off balance than he had realized until now.
“You expect violence at Zhoonarrim?” Ereshkiki Nisab asked.
“I do not know, Ereshkiki Nisab,” Lazarus finally admitted. “Humans would probably bring some level of vendetta from Aceanx. This is not a weapon, so I fulfill my promise to Addison to only defend myself if attacked. And if the authorities arrest me, again, I am not technically armed under Innruld law.”
“You think the overlords will come for you?” Ereshkiki Nisab seemed surprised by the concept.
Lazarus shrugged, and then wondered what a Qooph might do to convey the same emotion. They had no shoulders, as the arms that reminded him of a cat’s tail, ending in six, opposed fingers, just emerged from the axle, and the central body was two, hex-shaped ribcages of struts holding everything up. Round when everything was inflated to roll.
All the internals of a Qooph were pockets and tubes that connected eyes or stomachs to centralized organs.
“I do not know the truth of your worlds, Ereshkiki Nisab,” Lazarus added. “My own are a much more violent, dangerous place, and I fear that my kind will harm you and yours when we eventually meet. For now, I need to protect myself against reprisals by bullies hiding behind authority, and later I can serve as an ambassador.”
“Addison has told me about your worlds,” Ereshkiki Nisab noted. “It is possible that one of my great-grandsires visited your Earth in the ancient times. But for the Innruld, we might have returned as you developed, and joined you with galactic civilization ere now.”
“Your great-grandsire?” Lazarus felt his mouth fall open. “How long do Qooph live normally?”
“Twelve to fifteen centuries, if nothing goes wrong,” the wheelman replied, blinking with what Lazarus felt conveyed amusement. “You ephemerals are endlessly fascinating to watch and know.”
Lazarus suddenly felt like a particularly bright dog, contemplating how many generations of humans this Qooph might know in the sequence of his lifetime.
“Do you have records?” Lazarus asked. “I meant to inquire later, but now is as good a time as any.”
“Not written archives,” Ereshkiki Nisab rumbled after a moment. “The Innruld do not permit those records, but the Elders of the Wide Road might have the oral tales, slowly handing them down.”
The Innruld do not permit those records.
Lazarus found a deep and abiding hatred of the so-called overlords flare up, though he hoped he kept it hidden. How much did that species control the rest by not allowing certain information to be free? By erasing their past?
What would these sectors of space be like if all species were largely equal, as the Rio Alliance was trying to build?
“At some point, I think it would be useful to know,” Lazarus managed through gritted teeth. “Some of our oldest written tales describe a being, an Angel sent by God, who bore a remarkable resemblance to a Qooph, depending on how you translate certain terms.”
“Indeed?” the eyes seemed to open wider.
“Ezekiel One,” Lazarus nodded.
As for the appearance of the wheels and their construction: their appearance was like the gleaming of beryl. And the four had the same likeness, their appearance and construction being as it were a wheel within a wheel. When they went, they went in any of their four directions without turning as they went. And their rims w
ere tall and awesome, and the rims of all four were full of eyes all around. And when the living creatures went, the wheels went beside them; and when the living creatures rose from the earth, the wheels rose. Wherever the spirit wanted to go, they went, and the wheels rose along with them, for the spirit of the living creatures was in the wheels.
Lazarus let his eyes come back to the present and studied the Qooph in front of him.
“If you had a spherical land craft within which you could roll, pivoting yourself as needed, that might be you,” he intoned.
“And we have used such things, back in the distant past, Lazarus,” Ereshkiki Nisab replied with a delight in his voice. “How interesting to think that the memory of Qooph explorers might have survived on Earth. I will inquire when next I am among my kind.”
Lazarus didn’t ask when that might be. As long-lived as the Qooph were, it might be decades. Or there might be an elder at Zhoonarrim. He had no way to guess.
“So you are preparing to defend yourself against violence?” Ereshkiki Nisab pivoted the entire conversation back to the start. “But not to harm others?”
“If I can, I will turn the other cheek,” Lazarus said. “But I am not above claiming an eye for an eye, under the older codes. Too much hangs on it.”
Like, perhaps, the future history of the entire galaxy.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Aileen
Whatever misgivings she might have had, Aileen had quashed them as the ship entered the inner keep of the Zhoonarrim station. She wasn’t violent, but there was the potential for trouble when they landed and had to face the authorities that would be waiting for them.
She hoped that the lurid tales from both Dormell and Aceanx had not yet made it here, so they could just drop off their cargo and figure out what Addison’s next move was. The boss had been remarkably tight-lipped about things over the last week, which was never a good sign.
Aileen glanced over at Remahle, wondering if she should have swapped him for Wybert today. The Kr’mari was a better driver of the cargo sled, but the Ilount would at least know what he was doing if things got suddenly bad.
Remahle would probably just run for cover. Aileen felt that she owed Lazarus more than just a wave goodbye if the authorities arrested the human, although she wasn’t exactly sure what she could do in that situation.
Around her Shiva Zephyr Glaive settled on the landing platform. Felt like number six from the sequence the maneuvering jets had fired. Not the best place to put someone if you wanted a public scene making an arrest. Nor if you were aiming for something quiet.
Hopefully that was a good sign.
Lazarus had been especially tight and quiet the last few days, but she understood. And he had done all the work asked of him without even the laughing complaints that were usual.
Who knew what was about to stick to their fur?
Outside, the bell sound of the airlock doors closing, transmitted through her shoes and legs into her soul. Air would start to flood the outer chamber next, until the customs officials could enter the chamber and begin their usual round of annoying questions.
Addison surprised the hell out of her by slithering into the chamber, wearing his best tunic vest, the dressy red one that reminded people he was a ship’s Director.
“Addison?” she asked, at a loss for other words.
“Maybe I’m being paranoid,” he replied. “Maybe not. We’ll find out shortly.”
Lazarus stirred uncomfortably, but remained silent. Aileen wondered if Wybert was hiding just outside the chamber, or over by the main airlock ramp, where he could charge in if the situation demanded.
Maybe the human really was part of the crew now. One of theirs.
“Thank you,” Lazarus murmured quietly to Addison.
The Director just nodded and everyone stood around waiting.
The knock came quickly enough. Three metallic bangs on one of the landing legs to indicate that the outer chamber was pressurized.
Addison nodded to her and Aileen triggered the lift to lower them to the deck outside.
First thing that caught her eye was the officer. He was Vaadwig, not Innruld. Probably a good sign.
And he was unarmed, save for the usual two goons that they were issued when they got out of bed in the morning. So, nobody being arrested today, or they didn’t warn him how dangerous a human might be if aroused.
Aileen wasn’t the only one whose sigh of relief was covered by the sound of the lift clanging into the deck below it.
The Vaadwig officer stepped forward and studied the four of them. She’d dealt with him before, but didn’t bother with names. Their kind didn’t foster socialization with civilians. He was about in the middle, as bureaucrats went, on the scale of annoying.
“Director,” he nodded to Addison, recognizing the man from the years Addison had traveled these docks, even before she had joined his crew.
She and Remahle got looks that summed up bored disdain. Lazarus got a double-take, especially due to his size, but the human just smiled without showing any teeth.
Just another sailor making an honest buck.
“Papers?” the officer demanded.
Aileen handed him the three ID cards she had. Addison added his a moment later. Then the magical clipboard with all the notes about this cargo went into the officer’s hands.
“Anything interesting?” the Vaadwig asked, trying to sound companionable from his tone.
“Couple of boxes of medicines for the hospital,” Aileen said. “One of them supposedly has radiologicals in it, but sealed up tight in lead for transit, so nothing that has shown up on any handheld scanners to date. Box seven on your list.”
One furry finger traced the page, worked its way across. She watched the man mouth the contents silently as he read them. He pulled his own handscanner and pointed it at the sled, waiting several seconds for the output to beep.
The officer nodded to himself, satisfied that the container had not ruptured in flight.
Aileen smiled. Three quarters of smuggling came down to passing the attitude check. Not being nervous or aggressive when questioned. Faking bored, when two of those boxes would get everyone on this ship executed by the Innruld.
No other species was sensitive enough to the materials to ingest them recreationally. This Vaadwig could probably get a better high just over-salting his lunch.
Deflected, the officer pulled out his stamp and inked the middle of the page with a shipping approval.
Aileen smiled up at him.
“Any news on station we should know about?” she asked.
“At the tail end of beyond?” the officer’s eyebrows went up. “If you hadn’t docked, I might not have left my office except for lunch today.”
“Huh,” Aileen shrugged. “Business slowing down around here?”
Always useful to know if a slump or recession was coming. Cargo still needed to move around, but the contents would change, even if the actual amount didn’t. More things to keep the plebes entertained so they didn’t riot over lost jobs and declining lifestyles, especially as the Innruld always seemed insulated against it.
Wealth was a wonderful thing. But only if you had it.
“Maybe a tenth, year over year,” the man said absently, handing her back the clipboard.
Aileen glanced over at Addison and caught the gleam in his eyes. Not a good sign, even if Zhoonarrim was kind of in a dead-end pocket as far as cargo transport went.
“Thank you,” Aileen said to the Vaadwig’s back as he turned and lumbered off, tail/feet/tail/feet, with his two guards in slow pursuit.
Everybody stood perfectly still until the outer hatch closed.
“Thoughts?” Aileen turned to Addison, watching him and Lazarus both relax by the way their shoulders slumped in unison.
“Shore leave is approved, as soon as you deliver this to the bonding warehouse,” Addison said. “You’ll have Wybert with you again, just in case, since anybody who doesn’t know this Ilount might actual
ly be intimidated by his presence.”
Aileen chuckled. That was God’s Honest Truth. People who knew Wybert would probably just laugh.
Then they might do something so stupid that the human got involved. Aileen knew about the thing Lazarus called a bracer. She didn’t approve, necessarily, but she understood the human’s logic well enough. It gave him options midway between surrender and killing.
What the hell did it say about Innruld Space that she even had to consider something like that?
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Lazarus
Lazarus studied the corridors as they moved through Zhoonarrim Station. Identical to Aceanx, and before that Dormell. And Brasilia. And hundreds of others he had known in two decades space-bound.
There were only so many ways to assemble corridors for tall bipeds like Innruld. The only significant difference that he saw was the fact that no hatch had a lip to step over, like humans stations frequently did. Addison could clear them, but it might be interesting to see how a Qooph handled it. Might require a rolling start and a lot of noise.
The Bonding Warehouse had been typical as well. Stacks of shelves fifteen feet tall, each of them six feet deep, and running a long distance around the station’s curve. Giant forklift-style equipment would place the boxes according to some esoteric logic of space, need, and clustering, until the people arrived to pick up their boxes.
They were almost back to Shiva Zephyr Glaive now. Lazarus had noted that the corridors also seemed more empty than Aceanx or Dormell. Fewer people moving around, which made a sort of sense if the business cycle was about to collapse along periodic waves.
Living in space was expensive. If you didn’t have a job, your savings could get eaten quickly, and Lazarus didn’t suppose that the Innruld thought enough of their servant species to maintain a nice safety net.
Too much Hobbs. Not enough Locke.
At least nobody tall and lanky had been following them around. Or waiting at chokepoints with hard eyes. Wybert might look intimidating, but Lazarus wasn’t fooled. Aileen was probably more dangerous, just because she knew how to move around tall, heavy things that might tip over on you.
