The Tarantula Nebula

by David Kantrowitz

  Fernwyn struggled to remember the order of Rakhar military ranks, held over from the Empire days. Esteemed was after Adept, but before Glorious. Or was it after Accomplished? Each rank had five prefixes; there was a lot of room for promotion in the Rakhar hierarchy.

  “Do you know why you’re being held?” asked Nathalier.

  “Such a typical plank question,” Trarkek replied. “Humor me, please.”

  “Because you failed to file an intent to corral form upon arrival at Gleeful.”

  “My most humble apologies, sergeant. I graciously offer to pay the fine out of my own pocket, to avoid so much as the slightest dishonor to my guild.”

  “Good, then it’s settled,” said Durring. “Do we have the total in damages estimated yet?”

  Fernwyn and Nathalier looked astonished. The corporal yawned.

  “N... no, not yet,” said Nathalier.

  “You’d better get cracking, then.”

  “I wasn’t finished, if you’ll forgive me,” said Trarkek. “I invite you to review Chapter 18, section 930 of the Galactic Bounty Hunting codes. You’ll see that the actions of my clan are completely lawful, regardless of the missing paperwork.”

  “Allow me,” said Fernwyn, removing a small personal netcomp from her pocket. She looked up the law, read it twice to herself, and laughed lowly.

  “Care to share your source of humor with the rest of us?” asked Durring.

  “18 GBH 930: Licensed bounty hunters pursuing posted heads may refrain from contacting local law enforcement or filing domestic permission forms IF, A: The bounty heads are fixed and fleeing, AND B: The bounty has been doubled within the last two days GST, OR if the bounty has been dormant for more than five years and has been renewed in the last two days GST.”

  “So you see, my clan was justified in our actions,” began Trarkek. “As for your guard who was shot and wounded, he would of course be allowed a redress of honor against the impetuous fool who did it, as grieved as I am to admit that such a fool was ever under my command. However, since that Rakhar was killed in combat with the bounty heads, such a redress is unnecessary. The Guild will pay for his medical expenses and time lost from work.”

  “Hold it there, Commander,” said Durring. “Implicit in the law is the requirement that you divulge your bounty information to us, so that we may confirm that the conditions it sets were met.”

  “Implicit, perhaps, but not enumerated. Such a distinction is the area of attorneys, not bounty hunters.”

  “What a load of crap,” said Fernwyn. “There’s got to be a pile of case law that supports involuntary disclosure.”

  “Go find it and read it to me.”

  “Rylie, do you want to wait outside?” asked Durring.

  “No, sir,” said Fernwyn.

  “Then don’t be rude. I’ll leave it up to our superiors to decide whether or not such information is necessary. I’ll take the Commander on his word for now. Release them when their guild representative arrives.”

  “Respectfully, sir, and to you, Commander, may I ask two simple questions?”

  “You may ask,” began Trarkek, “but I may have to defer the answer to my representative.”

  “If he doesn’t mind, go for it," said Durring.

  “We know the ship that landed had an Umberian energy signature. Is it the long standing Zendreen bounty that you were following today?”

  “Yes,” said Trarkek, smiling.

  “Since the bounty was over five years old, it would have been considered dormant. That means you would have to either contact the Zendreen and ask them whether or not they were still paying out on it, or the Zendreen would have to send out a wide-net bulletin announcing the bounty’s reactivation.”

  “Correct.”

  “So which one was it?”

  “Are SPF officers getting lazy these days? Such information would be readily available on the net, if you were to look it up.”

  “For the love of the core, I was hoping you’d save me the time.”

  “I’m not going to do all of your work for you, my dear. I have to say, for a low grade patrol officer you sure do know a lot about shuffling.”

  “I used to be in the UMG in a past life.”

  “Oh! What’s your full name?”

  “Fernwyn D. Rylie of Residere Beta.”

  “I’m sorry, I’ve never heard of you. Too bad, we could have had quite a conversation.”

  The sergeant’s radio beeped at him, and he listened to it for a moment.

  “The clan’s guild rep is here,” he said.

  “Fine, they’ll need to have a word alone,” said Durring. “Prepare for the release of the detainees. Fernwyn, Orlaan, you’re with me.”

  Fernwyn, Durring, the other SPF officer and Nathalier returned to weapons locker and then to the main office. Durring turned towards Fernwyn.

  “What is your problem, Rylie? With your attitude you’re lucky he didn’t shut his jaws completely.”

  “Sir,” began Orlaan, “I don’t mean to be contrary, but Rylie knows how to deal with my kind. Polite but forceful is the way to go; it’ll earn you more respect in a Rakhar’s eyes.”

  “Well, there aren’t too many of them on this beat, outside of the Complexium and those on my squad. I’d say that this case is pretty much open and shut, anyway. I’ll file the report to the planetary oversight division.”

  “Wait a minute,” said Fernwyn. “Don’t you want to follow up on the bounty information?”

  “I don’t see why. It’s none of our business.”

  “Aren’t you the least bit curious? You’re a Kau’Rii for heaven’s sake!”

  “You are trying to get on my bad side, aren’t you? Leave it alone, that’s an order! I say this case is closed, and unless division says otherwise it’s closed. Orlaan, let’s go. Rylie, for your sake I hope I never get assigned to Beta Station.”

  Durring stormed out of the office. Orlaan shrugged apologetically before following him out to the concourse. After the door closed, Fernwyn kicked a wastebasket across the room, silencing the security personnel present. She then barked a statement that was meant to be a whisper.

  “What a fucking jerk.”

  __________

  The conference room was filled with an odd assortment of smells; not offensive, but definitely unusual. Upon entering, Byron could identify tobacco, rum, gunpowder, cleaning solvent, and blood. Through the haze, he could see Richter was already cleaning his pistol, despite the injury to his arm. Richter had used his t-shirt to bind the wound, hence the reason for Byron’s presence and cargo. Ari sat the table nearby, smoking one of her clove cigarettes, and John stood sipping from a tumbler glass next to her. Ray entered the room with a six-pack of bottled water, walking past Byron and handing one to Richter.

  “Thank you, Bailey,” Richter said, and drank from the bottle.

  “Everybody drink up,” Ray said. “I don’t want another casualty from dehydration.”

  “I would hardly consider myself a casualty,” said Richter. “I’m still combat effective. Hey kid, are you just going to stand there or are you going to give me that kit?”

  Byron walked over and handed Richter the first aid kit he’d retrieved from the cargo hold.

  “You shouldn’t be drinking at a time like this,” Ray said to John.

  “I shouldn’t be doing a lot of things,” John replied. “Like getting into a massive firefight with every new encounter.”

  “Here, let me take this t-shirt off,” said Byron.

  “Thanks, I can do it myself,” Richter shot back.

  “Byron has EMT training,” said John. “Why don’t you let him bind your wound? He might do a better job with both hands free.”

  “Fine, whatever.”

  Byron began working on Richter’s injury. Ari hopped down from the table and procured a bottle of water.

  “So what do you suppose that was all about?” she said. “The locals sure have a funny fucking way of saying hello.”

  “I�
��d prefer to wait until we hold the after-action review before we speculate too much,” said John.

  “The security guards called them mercenaries,” said Richter, lighting a cigarette.

  “Yes, but hired by whom?” asked Ray.

  “Oh, I almost forgot about these,” said Ari, reaching into her jacket.

  “Huh?”

  Ari removed five small bubble-packed items from her inside jacket pocket.

  “What the hell are those?” asked John.

  “Translation units. I managed to snag some from a kiosk during the fight.”

  “You mean you stole them?”

  “Half of the shit on this ship was stolen, John. Don’t get all high and mighty on me again.”

  Christie and Dana entered the room via the bridge.

  “We’re parked in the debris field around Macer,” Dana said.

  Christie nodded. “Seth thinks that between the debris and our invisibility shield we should remain undetected, for now.”

  “Okay, good work,” said John. “Is everyone ready for the AAR to begin?”

  There were no objections. Byron looked at John as if to ask permission to stay, but John wasn’t paying attention to him.

  “Fine. Our mission was to find some Talvanium as well as a way to purchase it. We accomplished the second objective by selling most of our hard alcohol to a local vendor.”

  “Doesn’t everybody already know that?” asked Byron.

  “The purpose of an after-action review is to make sure everyone is on the same page and has all of the pertinent information about the situation. It’s also a time to discuss what went right and what went wrong, and how we might improve upon it. So some of the information is going to seem redundant. That’s just the way it is.”

  “All right.”

  “According to our intel, Talvanium is no longer in active circulation, meaning the only place we can get it is on Residere Alpha. Seth already confirmed Alpha as the most likely source of the Talvanium, but we were hoping to save ourselves a trip over there. The good news is that we may not have to pay for it, since it’s value has apparently dropped to nothing since Umber was invaded.”

  “The Z'Sorth shopkeeper said it was two credits for about five pounds,” said Richter.

  “How much Talvanium do you need to synthesize the energy weapons?” asked Ray.

  “One hundred thirty two point two seven pounds,” Seth replied.

  “So it may be around fifty credits,” began John. “If we have to buy information to find it as well, hopefully the 252 credits that we earned will be enough. Otherwise, we’ll have to find another way. When we’ve all recuperated from the fight, we’ll travel to Alpha and begin our search.”

  “And the action itself?” asked Ari.

  “Seth, would you answer this one for me?”

  “Sure,” said Seth. “The Rakhar you fought were definitely mercenaries, bounty hunters to be precise. After Umber was taken over, the Zendreen put out a standing bounty on all transient Umberians in the Magellanic Cloud... Ari, is that a Rakhar ceremonial battle blade?”

  Ari, who had just placed her captured knife on the table, looked up in surprise.

  “I don’t know, you tell me,” she said.

  “Yes, it is. I strongly recommend against carrying that blade in the open. It sends a very clear message to other Rahkar as there’s only one way you could have gotten it.”

  “The hard way?”

  “Yes.”

  “Fine, Ari’s a bad-ass, we get it,” said Christie. “Seth, please continue.”

  “Right,” said Seth. “As I was saying, after Umber was taken over, the Zendreen put out a standing bounty on all displaced Umberians in the Magellanic Cloud. Since only licensed bounty hunters could collect on the prize, and said bounty hunters were relatively uncommon back then, those Umberians who were exiled from their home planet simply tried to forge new lives in other parts of the nebula. As time passed, however, and the true weight of the fall of the Rakhar Empire began to trickle way out here, more and more expatriated Rakhar and other adventurous types began to choose the life of a bounty hunter. It became increasingly difficult for the displaced Umberians to live in peace, and eventually all of them were captured and handed over to the Zendreen. I doubt any of them were harmed, except for the ones that fought back and died trying.”

  “How do you know all of this if you’ve been gone for ten years?” asked Ray.

  “Easy,” said Dana. “I just asked Seth to uplink to the network and update his historical database.”

  “Well done. Seth, please continue.”

  “When you reported coming under attack by black-clad Rakhar, it occurred to me to check on the status of the Zendreen bounty. Sure enough, it’s been reactivated and the monetary reward has doubled.”

  “What are we worth?” asked Ari, grinning.

  “One million credits per individual, twenty million for the Faith.”

  “Holy shit,” said John. “No wonder those guys were so gung-ho.”

  “Any time we have to drop the stealth field we risk being detected. Dana and I are still working on a way to mask or modify my energy signature. At least you have the advantage of looking unlike Umberians, which is why nobody hassled you when you first showed up at Gleeful Complexium. The mercenaries must have had access to orbital sensors around Beta. When we dropped the shield before landing, they must have found us. Like them or not, you have to admit their response time is impressive.”

  “How might you modify the Faith’s energy signature?” asked Ari.

  “We don’t know yet.”

  “I mean, in what way would you modify it if you could?”

  “We’d give ourselves the energy signature of another craft, like a Residerian transport or a Kau’Rii merchant,” said Dana.

  “Oh. That would be handy.”

  “But the Faith still looks like the Faith,” said John. “If we have to drop the invisibility field, we risk being identified.”

  “I don’t think that’s likely,” said Seth. “The Rakhar bounty hunters, this particular group is known as the Black Crest guild by the way, aren’t exactly liberal in their information sharing. It’s unlikely that another bounty hunter or a third party would know what to look for.”

  “I think we should come up with a better cover story than a bunch of tourists trying to score some Talvanium as a souvenir. If that story can go along with a modification to our energy signature, great. Let’s make it a priority. How close are you to figuring it out?”

  “I have no frigging idea,” said Dana.

  “I’d highly recommend such a course of action before attempting to land on Residere Alpha,” said Seth.

  “Why try and disguise ourselves as one of the local races?” asked Christie. “If they thought we were strangers and they left us alone, then all we should have to do is modify the energy signature enough to make the Faith unidentifiable as Umberian. Then we can claim to be from wherever we wish.”

  “That sounds like a good idea,” said John.

  “Why not simply call ourselves humans from Earth, then?” asked Ray. “Nobody seemed to care about Earth when the Z'Sorth trader reported on it.”

  “Yes, but that was one hundred years ago. If people around here learn that Earth has gained space flight technology, they might go check it out. We don’t want our friends back home to get a visit from the Zendreen or anyone else with bad intent. Even if a friendly race shows up, I think the Earth has enough problems without being dragged into the galactic community.”

  “Yeah,” began Christie, “but then again it might provide a real impetus for the countries of the Earth to put aside their differences and work towards a common goal.”

  “HA!” exclaimed Richter.

  “Hey, you don’t know.”

  Richter laughed. “If the survival of all life on Earth hasn’t been impetus enough for the last sixty years, what makes you think first contact would change anything?”

  “This is precisely w
hy I think going back to Earth to try and solicit help is a terrible idea,” said John. “Especially considering that ten years and change will have passed by the time we return.”

  “There’s simply no-one else to turn to for the kind of resources we need,” said Seth.

  “What if we could get enough Talvanium on Alpha to supply the entire fleet?”

  “I already told you that such an operation would be impossible in the current political climate of the Tarantula Nebula, even if we could get by the environmental challenges on Residere Alpha. We would have to have the support of both the Residerian government and the Solar United Faction.”

  “The Solar United Faction?” asked Ray.

  “The governmental body that oversees the whole of the Residere system.”

  “How is that different from the Residerian government?”

  “The Residerian government only has power over two moons.”

  “Oh.”

  “Wait a minute,” said Christie. “What environmental challenges on Alpha?”

  “That was another thing that I learned when I updated my historical database,” began Seth. “Alpha, like Delta and the moons of Macer, underwent atmospheric processing several decades ago in an attempt to make them habitable. Residere Delta was the only one that was a complete success. The processing of Alpha, however, was complicated due to vast, naturally-occurring magnetic zones on the surface. These zones are caused by ferrous ores and prevent all electrical devices from functioning. In order to process the atmosphere, buffer fields were generated around the processing facilities. Unfortunately, such buffer fields were more expensive to generate than the atmosphere processing itself, so once the environment had met the minimum to reasonably sustain life the atmosphere processing conglomerate called it good. The resulting desert planet allows for mining operations without special breathing apparatus or protective suits. Mining operations also require buffer fields, but maintaining them underground is less expensive since there’s no ionic interference from the atmosphere.”

  “Is this going to be a problem for us?” asked John.

  “Yes. After Umber was invaded and the demand for Talvanium all but vanished, the main mining facility producing it was closed. The buffer field was shut down. That means the closest I can land the Faith is at the next nearest buffer zone, located at a small town forty kilometers to the east.”