Eric Olafson: Space Pirate

by Vanessa Ravencroft

  It took me no time to free the other two and even take our chaffing collars off.

  The Kermac shook his head and said, “I am grateful that I did not have to meet you in battle; you are one resourceful young human.”

  Tirkov said, “I think I am certain he is an officer; that’s the result of their fine academy training.”

  I used the chain with the attached collar, looked through the bars as good as I could, and saw other grottos cut into the sides of sheer rock walls on the other side of this narrow canyon. As I stood there, the magnitude of this became apparent. There were these alcoves fitted with steel bars in several tiers connected with steel walkways. As far as I could see, and there was a reason to believe our side was looking the same. There had to be hundreds of these slave pens, and from the looks of it, most of them were occupied. There were dozens of guards lazily walking these catwalks swinging their prods in a bored fashion. Even though I saw guards of different species, it looked as if the Ogier had the largest numbers. The escape would not be as easy as I thought it would be. I had planned to use the collar and chain to fish for the lever and open the bars, but it was still too bright out there, and the guards on the other side would see us, raise the alarm and could shoot us.

  “It’s still too bright; we better wait till it gets darker.” I turned to the two and asked, “It does get dark here, right?”

  Tirkov nodded. “Yes, and very dark. There isn’t a moon around this world. I think they will have a few floodlights, but other than that, we will be able to leave.”

  The Kermac also looked outside. “And then what will we do?”

  The Merc said, “I am trying to scare up some clothing and a few coins. As soon as you are not recognized as a slave, we are as free as anywhere. We could try to find work, hire on as hands on a ship that goes out, but I am going to call a few friends and get me a ride off this dustball. You two are welcome to come along.”

  He gave me a glance from the side. “Someone like you could run his own outfit in no time, and there is good money in it, too.” Then he turned to the Kermac. “You could learn to pilot a walker, too, you know.”

  I said to him, “We need to get out of here first before we make plans for the future, but how would you make a call? I was told there isn’t anything here to make calls.”

  The mercenary gave me his trademark toothy grin. “Maybe the rest of the universe doesn’t have GalNet, but that doesn’t mean there is no way to communicate.”

  He made a general gesture with his hands. “I am sure there is a Myon Corresponder here. It’s not instantaneous like your fancy GalNet, and usually slower than a space ship, but it gets your message from one planet to another, and there might just be a Kermac Long Distant Telepath selling his services. And LDTs are instantaneous communication, too.”

  With a side-glance at the Kermac, I said, “I know about Myon Corresponder and Tachyon Radio. That’s how we hail mother ships when I order all channels open, but I am not so sure I would entrust a telepath with my secret messages. Every other long distant telepath can listen in, right?”

  The Kermac said, “Wrong! First of all, Long Range Telepaths are very rare naturally, so we enhance their ability technically. Second, they are social recluses and more tool than being and third, you can always use code.” With a miffed tone in his voice, he said, “Not everything the Saresii do is better or superior to our way of doing things, you know.”

  “How can anyone take Kermac serious when all they do is be arrogant, trying to enslave others with their psionics and send spies?”

  I realized I was ruder than I wanted to be, but as I spoke, I remembered the dead Garbini I saw hanging in the wreck of the Seneca. I remembered the two Kermac agents unleashing Y’All warriors at the tabernacle research facility. And, most of all, I was in this situation because Kermac were the driving motor behind my kidnapping just to get to a Narth.

  He didn’t sound offended but tired when he said, “That is why I am here and not in the great tower. I questioned some of our politics, but you should not poke the stick into the plastic roof after it rained. I mean, ever since the Union became so big, it is often perceived as being arrogant. Go ask a Togar or a Kartanian or any number of galactic council member species what they think about the Union or the Terrans.” He raised his hands and said, “I am not defending what Kermac politics and attitude did over thousands of years, and it is hard for me to accept that. I still love Ker and my culture; I don’t want it to become Union. I want it to reform; remember that we are an old race and could be respected for achievements. I disagreed with the increasing delusion, and the blindness of the rest of the wizards to the obvious facts and one of those facts is that there won’t be a Kermac culture if we continue in the same direction. They play with forces we don’t really understand. Even among the wizards, any form of discussion is no longer acceptable. Everyone has to agree with the Grand Wizard.”

  He was talking himself into a rage, and while he did so, he realized more and more, that he’d lost his home forever. Maybe it was the shock and the stress of the last days for him that kept him level, but now, he was close to a breakdown and then he started crying. I didn’t even know Kermac could cry. I still hated them, those white-skinned, meddling bastards. They had gotten me here! I had to tell myself that several times to make sure I still believed it. Maybe not all Kermac were the same and maybe shared misery like a slave prison made me realize there weren’t that many differences between him and me.

  Tirkov glanced outside. “Someone is coming. Armed guard, a dealer, and the robed ugly one again!”

  We went back to the wall and pretended to be tied. I hoped they didn’t notice that our chains were no longer attached to the wall.

  The robed man with the ugly face was accompanied by a well-fed Golden. I knew little about the Golden, who were distant cousins to the Kermac and the Blue, other than that they were merchants and maintained big bazaars in all corners of the galaxy. This one had an ugly cross-like symbol burned or etched in his otherwise bald head.

  The Kermac whispered, “That cross-shaped scar means he is a disgraced Golden and is not allowed to sell or buy anything or conduct business. If the Golden find out he deals in sentient beings, they might send assassins.”

  I simply made sure that he knew I heard his explanation. At this point, I didn’t care what kind of species the slave business owner was, I also would save the Golden the expenses. I had no plans of keeping him alive.

  The man with the brown cloak and the ugly alien face pointed at me and said, “How much for the fighting boy?”

  The Golden had a laboring way of talking, and somehow he didn’t even get all the words in Squawk right. “He caused much damage, and we think he is a troublemaker. But he brings good Polo for company when sold to the arena!”

  The ugly one had big ears, and a hairy nose that seemed, like the rest of his skin, too big for the skull underneath and hung in loose skin folds down to his chest.

  The Kermac again supplied me with some information. “That is Yotenen; they are native to what you call Downward, and I have never seen one in this part of the galaxy. Broody, mistrusting race, not pleasant to deal with.”

  What the Kermac called a Yotenen held up a heavy little bag. “Who knows what tomorrow brings, who knows if the Arena purchasers come and buy or believe your stories about him. I saw him fight and I offer 100 big Polos, full-weight.”

  “I could part with him for 200.”

  “I take him and the Saresii girl, and I give you 250.”

  It was demeaning to be there, hearing two beings haggle over you. They were still outside, and the guard was armed. They had to come in before we could rush them.

  The moneybag changed owners; the steel barrier lifted, but only the guard came in. For our impromptu plan to work, they all had to come. There was no other way; I had to jump the guard.

  As the Oghar came closer, Tirkov made a groaning sound to distract him and as he turned I rushed up, slung my chain around
the Oghar’s fat neck, twisted my body to close the loop of the chain and pulled the chain with all I had across my own shoulders. The guard gargled and choked, the Kermac jumped up took the knife from the guard’s belt and stuck him.

  Knowing we had seconds, I turned to rush after the other two when I saw the cloaked Yotenen push the owner forward and inside our prison. The disgraced Golden staggered a few more steps and fell over; several fine steel needles had penetrated deep into the back of his head.

  The Yotenen man snarled with an urgent tone, “Quick, Eric, I brought a second cloak. Let us get out of here.”

  Of course! Wasn’t it the secret ability of the Sojonites to change shape? This was the Mother Superior!

  Tirkov was already stripping the guard and putting the things on when he stopped and laughed. “It looks I am not the only one who has friends around here.”

  The Kermac was over the dead owner, pulling on the smudgy golden robe, and stopped. “You are full of surprises, human.”

  I took the offered cloak and slipped it on. The merc grabbed my underarm and looked at me with flashing blue eyes. “I am still trying to figure your rank and specialization. Age-wise you might already be full lieutenant, but I could be wrong. You haven’t told us how you ended up here, other than some cryptic remarks. I doubt you are the kind of officer herding a bunch of scientists at a distant outpost that got raided by pirates. I think you are a spacer. Come on, tell us the name of the last ship you served.”

  “I don’t think I am breaking any regulations saying that. It was the USS Devastator.” I took hold of his underarm the same way. “Good luck, Tirkov!”

  “Take care, Eric, this is a big universe, but I think we might run into each other one of these days.”

  Actually, I was more surprised about my own emotions and reaction. I took the offered hand of the Kermac and grabbed his underarm in that greeting Nilfeheim warriors reserved for each other and said, “Good luck, Wizard. I doubt we will run into each other, but you opened my eyes to a few things.”

  He bowed slightly. “I never thought I would say this, but I respect you, Union man. You, too, gave me much to think about.”

  The hooded alien slid close to me and whispered, “I am sorry it took so long to find you, but there are a lot of slave cages to go through.”

  I slipped in the cloak, and moments later, we left. It took us a while to get to the ground level but none of the guards paid any particular interest in us. There was a steady traffic of coming and going. Slaves being transferred, sold or used in work gangs for some local purpose or another. As we reached the ground, she pointed at a waiting two-legged lizard with a saddle on it.

  My new friends waved once more and disappeared moments later behind the bend the canyon wall made.

  She asked me to climb on the back, and after I did, she did the same and sat behind me. The lizard made a screeching sound as she forced it with a tug on the reins to get walking.

  The lizard moved fast, and we had soon left the Canyon of Tears as this side arm of the local canyon was called and reached a more active area. Everything was built in or at the canyon walls. Either in recesses or like balconies dotting the canyon walls all the way up. Bars, restaurants, bordellos and other small businesses advertised with illuminated signs. Here on the canyon floor was a steady traffic of carts, people on foot and lizards either pulling wagons or being ridden.

  Only now did she speak again. “You caused quite a stir, stealing a slaver ship, dropping the core directly before the feet of the local lord and his cronies.”

  “I didn’t know if you were still alive. I had planned to find the local temple as soon as I was able. I had to do something. I didn’t want to end up on a Togar table.”

  “I was worried sick about you! I promised Richard to keep you safe. That tornado was the strangest thing. Normally they don’t occur around here at this time of year and rarely if ever exceed a T4; it was our bad luck to be caught in it.”

  I frowned and said, “Bad luck isn’t even coming close; I think Loki personally is out to get me.”

  She asked, “Who?”

  “The god of mischief and trickery in the mythology of my people.” Then I asked her, “Did you get hurt? I tried to hold on to you, but it was too late.”

  She steered the lizard down a side corridor and said, “I took the form of a Heentok. That is a storm rider from a planet where hurricanes and violent storms are the norm, but I lost sight of you.”

  She made the lizard stop and jumped off. We had reached some sort of corral; a man-height fence separated about a dozen of these animals, and another one of those short three-fingered beings took our mount, and she received her deposit back.

  The lizards smelled putrid, but here it was even worse, and I was glad to follow her away from it. I almost lost her as she suddenly turned left into a narrow cleft in the rock. Here, too, were little businesses and the dwellings of individuals.

  She turned to see if we were followed and then pushed me through a curtain that hung from a cave entrance and into a sparsely lit tavern. Neither the being behind the counter nor the few patrons took any notice of our presence. They weren’t consuming drinks but ate little flower buds from small bowls. We didn’t really stop but passed through a second set of curtains, down a windy corridor that was almost completely dark.

  We resurfaced in another canyon corridor and did this sort of thing four or five times more. I doubted I could trace our way back. Finally, we went through the back door of a dirty, low-tech hotel of some kind and ended up in a room with a mattress and a few pillows on the floor. The small round window was without glass but had a set of curtains through which she looked outside, “I am pretty certain we haven’t been followed.”

  She dropped the cloak and right before my eyes the shape of the ugly skin-fold-covered alien begun to melt and shift, becoming almost like a liquid. Moments later, she was the same older Saresii woman I had seen aboard the luxury yacht.

  She opened a trunk I only now noticed and said, “You need to get changed, too. Once they discover you’re gone, this place will become a witch’s cauldron. You and your friends caused a nice little steer and the Local Lord most certainly does not want to hear you escaped before you could be sold and punished in the arena. That is why we need to change now and leave this planet, preferably before they notice.”

  She changed again into an Oghar female just as brutish looking as the males, with pronounced jaws and tusk-like teeth poking past the upper lips. From the trunk, she put on the typical leather and metal garment outfit that appeared to be common for both genders of that race.

  Her green-skinned hand with long yellowish claws and fine-scaled skin pointed at the trunk. “The other costume is for you! Get cleaned in the hygiene cell and get dressed. We are in a hurry.”

  I found the little shower and a sign in bold letters written in several languages that warned of wasting water and listed the horrendous fees for using it.

  I must have wasted almost 100 Polos worth of water. I could not remember a time when I enjoyed a shower more than now

  I doubted there was anyone more anxious than me to leave this planet, but the shower was pure bliss and rinsing my dried-out gills made me realize I still had them.

  She was standing by the window as I came out and said, “I estimate we have about three or four hours before they realize that I send the other slaves to do work they weren’t supposed to do. That happens here all the time, but when they get back, they will find the owner and the dead guard, and I am certain the local lord will prevent any ship from leaving until you and the others have been found.”

  I found that the seemingly primitive trunk had a set of controls that activated a portable Auto-Dresser unit.

  The Auto-Dresser disguised me into a humanoid feline being with fine dotted soft fur, large ears and whiskers and a twitching tail! Over it, I wore a tight brown leather bodice with a red sash.

  “You are a Togar warrior now. Virtually unknown in Union space but a f
ierce race, quite aggressive and the red sash signals that you are in heat and just killed a suitor.”

  I could not believe my ears and spouted, “I am what?”

  She crossed her muscular arms. “It keeps all nosy folks away. Togar females are even more irrational than human women during that period and kill and maim for the silliest reasons. The best thing is, every Togar we meet will instantly fight anyone to the death for giving you the slightest disrespect, and there are a lot of Togar on this world.”

  I checked my new looks in the mirror field. “I sure hope no one wants to mate with me! I don’t really want to find out what love means to a crazed two-legged Togar tomcat.”

  She actually laughed. “Not to worry; they are a strict matriarch society. The retractable claws on your costume are monofilament Ultronit. You could claw a robot to shreds. Trust me, I used that disguise many times!”

  “Only you are a Sojonit shapeshifter trained in all those secrets. I only wear a clever bio flex costume! Can I not rather be some sort of human something?”

  She shrugged. “This is what we had at the local temple. Trust me, the other alternatives would have pleased you even less. Besides, I booked us a flight on the next transport out of here, and it is for a Togar female with her Oghar bodyguard.”

  At least I could wear weapons openly; a Togar blaster and two sword-like knives were part of the disguise. I did like the claw part. I could not help being fascinated by my tail. It twitched and moved, probably part of some random neuro-impulse program incorporated into the costume. I had no control over it, and that was a good thing.

  “Stop looking at your tail. It won’t fall off.”

  “I never had a tail before!”

  “Well, technically speaking... sort of!”

  She pressed another contact on the portable Auto-Dresser, and it crumbled and dissolved before our eyes into a pile of metallic dust. All that remained was a small zero point energy cube she put in one of her pockets. “Let’s go, Maguria, my Togan beauty. The transport is leaving soon!”