The Tarantula Nebula

by David Kantrowitz

  “Okay!”

  “Listen, we could use your help. We’ve never been here before and we’re looking for a few specific things.”

  “Like what?”

  “Do you know where we can trade for Talvanium?”

  “Never heard of it.”

  “It’s an ore. Do you know of any Z'Sorth shops that sell ores or metals?”

  “Geez, swing a Rakhar and you’ll hit one. There have to be two dozen Z'Sorth shops at Gleeful.”

  “Where’s the nearest one?”

  “Level ten, I think. Or was it twelve? I’m not sure.”

  “Where can we find out?”

  “There are information kiosks every five levels, or you can talk to any Rakhar wearing blue uniforms. They’re with Empire Security.”

  “Thank you.”

  “No problem.”

  The Kau’Rii walked off in search of better business. Richter moved over to John.

  “Hey, Scherer,” he said in low tones.

  “Yeah?”

  “Talvanium is used to make weapons. We don’t know if it has any other applications. It’s probably not such a great idea to go broadcasting our desire to buy some all over the complex.”

  “Shit, you’re right. I guess that rules out asking security about it. Let’s go down to level one and find the information booth.”

  “I think those are elevators over there,” said Ray, pointing.

  “Let’s go. Keep your eyes open.”

  The others nodded and John led the way. The elevators were on the outside wall of the concourse. When the doors opened, the team could see that they were in fact facing the outside of the building. The areas that the shops occupied jutted out on either side, but the walls receded at an angle of thirty degrees and afforded a good view of the landscape. The four team members moved into the elevator.

  “I bet this place has a booming vacation industry,” said Ray.

  The elevator buttons, arranged on a pressure-sensitive touchpad, had unknown markings on them.

  “Seth, this is John. Can you tell me which button to press for level one?”

  “I can’t see what you’re seeing, John,” came the reply.

  “I meant can you describe the Residerian symbol for ‘one,’ please?”

  “It’s a single vertical line.”

  “Figures.”

  John pressed the touchpad, and the elevator began to move. The doors opened smoothly and the team exited. The first level was a shipping and receiving area. One side was dominated by loading docks, and larger cargo elevators lined most of the remaining wall space. An anti-gravity skid began to move a large piece of equipment upward through the atrium. A food vendor barely got out of the way in time, and swore at the other craft in an unknown language. There was only one kiosk on this level; the space was wide open save for the activity. There was quite a bit going on, but the atrium above seemed to absorb some of the noise.

  “Over there,” said John.

  The team moved carefully through the shifting sea of commerce over to the information booth. A large touchscreen displayed a great deal of information, all of which was foreign to the human observers. John stroked his chin as he considered the screen.

  “Look, this might help,” said Ari.

  One of the many choices on the screen was a pictogram of a mouth with lines around it. John shrugged and pressed the button. A small holographic image of a smiling Residerian appeared in front of them. There was a slight delay as Seth translated the message.

  “Welcome to Gleeful Complexium, the largest and most diverse marketplace in the system! How may I help you today?”

  “We’re looking for Z'Sorth shops that sell metals and ores,” John said.

  “Entering new language into database,” the hologram said. “Please state in one word the name for your language.”

  “English.”

  “English language registered. Thank you. There are twenty-two Z'Sorth shops in Gleeful Complexium. All of the shops list ores and metals in their inventories. Please be more specific.”

  “We’re looking for ores and metals that are available only on Residere Alpha.”

  “Careful,” muttered Richter.

  “There are six shops that meet your criteria,” the hologram said. “They are located on levels ten, fifteen, thirty-seven, fifty-one, ninety-seven and one hundred.”

  The touchscreen changed to a cross-sectional image of the complex, highlighting the six shops.

  “This could take some time,” said Ari.

  “Is there anything else I can help you with?” asked the hologram.

  “No, thanks,” said John.

  Richter motioned for the team to move away from the kiosk. When they’d done so, he spoke.

  “That information may not be helpful to us. If Talvanium is a restricted material, then I doubt the holographic cherub there would know who had it.”

  “Well, at least we have somewhere to start now,” Ray replied.

  “All right,” said John. “I don’t want to spend too much time dicking around. The longer we’re here, the greater chance someone will start asking unwanted questions. Let’s split up into two groups. Ari, Chance, you start on level one hundred and check the upper three shops. Ray and I will start on level ten and work up. Remember to stay in contact every ten minutes. If you get a good lead we’ll discuss it in person.”

  “Understood,” said Richter.

  “Ari, you’ve got a pretty good idea of what’s aboard, right?”

  “I wrote the manifest you’re holding, didn’t I?” Ari replied.

  “Right. Start off any conversation by offering things we can trade. You know what we can spare. Offer a couple of our spare rifles if nothing else interests them. Then bring up the Talvanium.”

  “I can handle the dealing,” said Richter.

  “Good. Let’s get moving. And Ari, go easy on the free samples.”

  A few minutes later, John and Ray had arrived on level ten. There was considerably less foot traffic on the concourse than either the food court or the loading docks. Music from a stringed instrument played at a low volume.

  “I can’t put my finger on exactly why,” began Ray, “but it feels really good to be back on solid ground again.”

  “Really? I hadn’t noticed. I’m glad to breath fresh air again. Seth’s filtering system is pretty good but this planet smells just wonderful.”

  John and Ray passed by two Rakhar from Empire Security. They were wearing bulky blue uniforms with unknown markings, and carried some sort of large, capable-looking sidearms. The guards watched the humans walk past them without a word. When they were out of earshot, Ray leaned over to John.

  “I can’t believe they didn’t say anything,” he said. “We don’t look like anything else in this place.”

  “There must be some other humanoid race that more closely resembles us,” John said. “Either that or they really don’t care about newcomers.”

  “I hope you’re right, and they’re not just waiting for a better chance to... hey look at that.”

  Ray stopped walking and motioned towards a shop. It was a brightly lit Kau’Rii store and it was filled with many different kinds of bottles.

  “Looks like a liquor store,” said John.

  “I bet it’s just that. I also bet they’d be quite interested in some unique alcohol, something we happen to have plenty of.”

  “You’re going to have a hard time convincing anybody on the Faith to give up their liquor.”

  “Do you include yourself in that assessment?”

  “No, I don’t. I’ve been going easy on the Elijah Craig, you know. I still have five bottles left.”

  “What does the manifest say?”

  John pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and reviewed it. “There’s the Elijah Craig, four bottles of Laphroaig, three bottles of Bombay Sapphire, one bottle of Barbancourt, and six bottles of Ipswich Ale.”

  “We’re out of wine?”

  “Completely. It
was the first thing to go.”

  “I also find it hard to believe that Ari drank eleven bottles of Barbancourt in six weeks.”

  “Me, too, now that you mention it,” said John, and keyed his microphone. “Ari, this is John, over.”

  “Yo,” Ari’s voice said.

  “Hey, how come there’s only one bottle of Barbancourt listed on the manifest?”

  “Because I only have two bottles left, and I’m not giving up both of them.”

  “How in the hell did you drink ten bottles of Barbancourt in six weeks? You would have been drunk twenty-four seven!”

  “Fuck you I drank them all! I lost two of them to Christie and two of them to Richter.”

  “All right, I’m sorry. Forget it. John out.”

  Ray laughed. “You torqued her up on that one.”

  “Like she needs much help. Come on, let’s find out what this guy thinks of our wares.”

  John and Ray walked into the shop and were greeted by a five foot tall Kau’Rii with gray and white fur.

  “Well, if it isn’t two of those genmod Residerians I’ve heard so much about. Those procedures must be getting quite popular.”

  “I beg your pardon, sir,” began John, “but we’re not Residerians. We’re humans from Earth.”

  “You have nothing to fear, I think we’re gonna like it here,” said Ray.

  “This is my friend T-Bone Burnett,” said John. “Also known as Ray Bailey. I’m John Scherer.”

  “A pleasure, sirs. I am Graheim.”

  “Pardon my ignorance, Mister Graheim, but is this a liquor store?”

  “It ain’t mother’s milk.”

  John smiled. “We have some alcohol from Earth that we’d like to sell. Are you interested?”

  “Alcohol from a planet nobody’s ever heard of? I suppose I can sell it to some of those rich snobbish Rakhar playboys who like to vacation here. They’re always buying the most expensive stuff whether it’s worth it or not. If it’s really good stuff I may even be able to get the locals to buy it.”

  “Well, we could certainly let you sample it. We have four varieties of grain alcohol, but very limited quantities.”

  “Bring it in, and I’ll try some. No guarantees I’ll buy it, of course.”

  “Great! We’ll be back in ten minutes.”

  John and Ray exited the store and headed for the elevators. John spoke into his radio.

  “Ari, this is John, over.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “We’re going to try and sell some of our alcohol. We’ve got a shop that may be interested. Ray and I are returning to the ship to get it. How are things on your end?”

  “The store on the hundredth floor was closed for renovations. We’re on our way to the next one.”

  “Okay, thanks. John to the Faith.”

  “Christie here,” said Christie’s voice.

  “Have you been monitoring our communications?”

  “Of course.”

  “Gather up all the liquor in the galley, not counting the beer, and put it in a box. Include one each of the bottles that are already open. Meet us on the ramp; we’ll be back momentarily. Over.”

  “Roger, out.”

  “John, there’s something I’ve been hesitant to bring up with you,” said Ray.

  “What can’t you talk to me about, Ray? We’re best friends.”

  John hit the button for the elevator. Seconds later the doors opened and the men stepped inside.

  “Ten years will have passed on Earth by the time we get back. Christie observed earlier that she doubts any Earth government will agree to the mission parameters. How do we know that going back to Earth won’t be a big waste of time?”

  “I guess we don’t. I simply don’t know of any other options right now.”

  “I think we should try and find another way to help the Umberians. I’m not looking forward to another six weeks in superspace, and I’m sure the Umberians would rather not wait another ten years to be liberated.”

  “I agree. Seth’s answer to the issue shows the emotional detachment of a computer. There may be other options, but like he said the most important thing right now is to upgrade our armaments. We still have six weeks to explore the nebula and collect information. Hopefully a better alternative will be found.”

  Arriving at the second level, John and Ray exited the elevator. They headed towards the archway to the landing platform.

  “I can’t help but wonder if liberating Umber is completely beyond our ability.”

  John looked at Ray. “It’s our duty to do everything we can towards that end.”

  “I know that. I just hope the rest of the crew agrees.”

  “It’s a little late to back out now.”

  The men arrived back at the Faith. Christie, Dana and Byron were standing at the bottom of the ramp. Byron was holding a cardboard box.

  “Hello,” said John.

  “Next time you guys stay here,” said Dana. “This is too boring.”

  “I’m sorry about that, but we need you here.”

  “We’ve been watching video broadcasts over the galactic network,” said Christie. “Would you believe all of the news channels are by subscription only?”

  “That doesn’t surprise me,” said Ray, taking the box from Byron.

  “Hopefully this will give us the cash we need,” said John.

  “Christie and Dana don’t like being on the ship alone with me,” said Byron. “I think it would be better if I came with you.”

  “Tough shit, kid,” said Ray.

  “The ladies can handle you, Byron,” said John, “and we don’t need an untrained puppy following us around.”

  “Kiss my ass,” said Byron.

  “We’ll be back soon. Remember to keep your eyes peeled out here.”

  “No problem,” said Dana.

  “Good luck with the booze,” said Christie.

  John waved goodbye and turned around. He and Ray headed back across the causeway.

  “I can’t believe Byron is still being such a jerk,” said Ray.

  “Isn’t that box heavy?” asked John. “Do you want some help with it?”

  “I’m fine.”

  Back on the food court levels, things had calmed down quite a bit. A few Residerians with softly humming vacuum cleaners were tidying up.

  “Byron is Byron. I was rude to him, and he was rude back. It’s no big deal. I don’t have a problem with him standing up for himself in matters of pride.”

  “Yeah, except it seems like everything is a matter of pride for him. Maybe we should leave him here. Give him some of our credits and let him fend for himself.”

  “What, seriously?” asked John, pressing the key for the elevator.

  “I don’t know. This is the first chance we have to get rid of him short of homicide, right? We don’t owe him anything.”

  “It’s not like you to propose such a thing, Ray.”

  “Perhaps not, but I’m concerned about Christie in particular. Byron is right about one thing: neither she nor Dana likes being around him.”

  The elevator arrived and the men boarded.

  “Byron is still responsible for betraying us to the CIA. Nothing he’s done since then has convinced me to forgive that. Now that you mention it, leaving him here might be a good idea. However, without knowing how much money we’ll get, if any, and not knowing how Byron could survive here alone, I’m not sure leaving him here is any better than killing him. From an ethical standpoint, I mean.”

  Ray shrugged. “In a place this big, I bet we could find him a job.”

  “Maybe.”

  The elevator came to a stop, and the men exited onto the tenth level. John stepped a little closer to Ray.

  “Continue looking straight ahead,” said John quietly. “I think we’re being followed.”

  “Empire?”

  “No, but they are Rakhar. Two of them. They were on this level as we were coming out of the liquor store. I saw them in the food court. And they ju
st stepped off of another elevator on this level.”

  “Roger that.”

  “Let’s get this deal done. If they’re still on us when we’re finished we’ll have to decide on a course of action.”

  “Okay.”

  John and Ray entered the liquor store. Graheim greeted them. Ray put the box on the counter and began removing bottles from it.

  “I’ve got four glasses here,” he said.

  John nodded. “Good. Let’s start with the most mild and move up from there. This first bottle is of Bombay Sapphire. It’s gin, distilled from grain and infused with a berry called Juniper.”

  Ray poured a small amount into the first glass. Graheim pointed a hand-held device at it and pressed a few buttons.

  “Ethyl alcohol, plant extracts, water,” Graheim said, “nothing dangerous. Looks good.”

  Graheim smelled the gin, then sipped it.

  “It’s usually served ice cold,” said Ray.

  “Hmm. Not my thing, really, but I have several customers who like this sort of thing. Next?”

  Ray poured some Barbancourt into the next glass.

  “This is Barbancourt, a kind of rum. It’s distilled from molasses and sugar cane.”

  Graheim pointed his device at the glass before tasting it.

  “Mmm, delicious. I like it.”

  Ray poured the bourbon next.

  “This is Elijah Craig, a bourbon. It’s distilled from corn and filtered through charcoal.”

  “Not bad, not bad. Smoky, I like it.”

  “Last up is Laphroaig, a scotch. It’s distilled from grain.”

  Ray offered Graheim a small amount. He sniffed the glass and turned up his nose at it.

  “My goodness, that’s strong stuff isn’t it?”

  Graheim pointed his device at the scotch.

  “It’s perfectly safe,” said John.

  Graheim tentatively tasted the Laphroaig. He was visibly displeased.

  “I hate it, but I know some people will buy it.”

  “Good. What can you offer us for the lot?”

  “I’ll say eighteen credits each. I’ll take the open bottle of rum for myself, if you don’t mind. That’s 252 credits total.”

  “Excuse me for a moment, Mister Graheim. John to Seth, over.”

  “Seth here.”

  “Seth, can you tell me how much a credit is worth in terms of dollars?”