Starbound: Eleven Tales of Interstellar Adventure

by SM Reine

  But where were those other races? They’d encountered no one on their long walk through the facility—no Mol or anyone who might possibly be a worker. It was as if they were all hiding as far from the Graha-Es visitors as possible.

  T434 opened a door and waved a round white arm at the room—their resting quarters, a space barely big enough for them to lay side-by-side. It was luxurious compared to what the workers had the last time she was here. Pey entered first, then T434 pressed a button on the wall and Xella saw how honored they’d been to receive this space. As private as the room was, the entire thing had a clear view of the planet outside the biosphere. It must have been right on the edge of the dome to have such a view.

  Pey gasped and pressed her fore and midarms against the barrier, drinking in the landscape. Xella longed to do the same, struggling to appear professional and not like a young, untested sister rarely off her home planet.

  Arcturus 5 was stunning. The prevalence of iron on the planet colored everything in shades of red. The ever-setting sun filtered through the thin atmosphere, tinging the jagged cliffs in the distance a bright gold. The magnetic storms that slammed into the planet created the dancing streaks of white and green far off on the horizon.

  In all her orbits, Xella had yet to become jaded to the beauty around her. And she was absolutely aware of the fleeting nature of such beauty. In a few million orbits this red giant star would have depleted all of its helium and collapse upon itself, leaving Arcturus 5 a cold rock in an empty sky.

  It would still be beautiful, but it would be the beauty of death.

  T434 touched another button on the wall and a blue line appeared. “Will one tick be sufficient to rest, Tovenaressa Xella? The Donnar Mol is eager to begin.”

  She nodded. “I too am eager to begin.”

  He bowed out of the room. “Then I will return to escort you when the blue line is exhausted.”

  As soon as he was gone, Xella allowed herself a moment to feel her exhaustion. Even with The Fold, travel was tiring, and she needed to be constantly alert from the moment she arrived. It all mattered—the landing bay, the corridors, the room they’d received, T434’s gestures and words. There were so many variables in a negotiation, and what was said at the table was often the least important.

  “What did you notice, Pey?”

  The younger Graha-Es tapped her midarms against the barrier that separated them from the planet surface. “We encountered no other life-forms beyond our escort. I would have expected a high-level delegation to meet us at the docking bay, given the influence of Graha-Es in this sector. It’s either an insult, or the Donnar had an unexpected emergency. If the latter, he clearly didn’t want us to know about it, as no excuses were given for his absence.”

  “Excellent, Pey. What else?”

  She nodded in thought. “We encountered no one else on the way here, so it’s possible the emergency is requiring all the workers to assist. I also noticed that based on the biosphere layout I studied, the Mol escort appeared to take us on a circuitous route to reach our quarters.”

  “Which bypassed…?”

  Lids blinked horizontally across Pey’s black eyes in a rapid motion. “The…the product storage areas! The cargo bay where we landed was empty—no thermal cells, no helium collectors, nothing. Is the emergency in the product storage area?”

  “It’s a plausible theory.” Xella nodded in approval. “The Mol would hardly have sent out every last bit of their cargo with the Dark still traveling their shipping lanes. They would have waited until after the negotiation to ensure safe passage for their cargo. They have taken great pains to move heavy cargo away from the bay area, cargo which might be why the Donnar and all the workers are elsewhere. They’re shifting cargo to another location.”

  Pey again blinked. “But why hide cargo? The emissary from the Dark is not likely to steal directly from their outpost. And we have no interest in thermal cells or helium collectors.”

  Xella again looked out the window at the colorful polar lights. The atmosphere on Arcturus 5 was thin, and there was hardly any magnetosphere to speak of. “Pretty, aren’t they?”

  The younger Graha-Es twisted her forelimbs together in agitation, realizing there was something in all of this that she was missing. Xella watched her with affection. Pey was still young—young enough to learn.

  “We will rest, Pey, and as we do you are to think on what could possibly be accelerating those charged particles and causing such a spectacular display.”

  Pey pressed her antennae against the barrier, blinking so rapidly her eyes appeared light gray. “It’s the solar wind. Arcturus throws forth a strong solar wind.”

  “Hush.” Xella reached out again to touch the line of red stones decorating the younger’s skin. “You know as much about this planet and its sun as I do. You have read the briefings on both the Mol and the Dark with their histories. Let your mind wander through the facts. Sometimes rest brings about greater insight.”

  Pey sighed, ending the noise with a series of clicks that showed both frustration and impatience. But knowledge given was not as valuable as knowledge discovered on one’s own, so the elder Tovenaressa kept silent and curled up tight against her younger sibling on the bedding slab. If the answer hadn’t come to Pey in the one tick they had, then perhaps this sort of work wasn’t in her future.

  * * *

  There wasn’t much time left before the blue line was gone and T434 would return to escort them to the negotiation table. Xella carefully extricated herself from her sister’s many arms and studied the doorway.

  It wasn’t locked, but the sensing device that opened and closed it would send an alert somewhere when activated. It wasn’t uncommon for hosts to have this on their guest room doors.

  Which is why Xella had purchased a bypass wire many orbits ago from those crafty Dwall who knew how to get around any system, mechanical or electrical. A small amount of saliva on the wire carefully placed in the sensor and the door slid open just wide enough for her to squeeze through.

  The light still blinked as if she remained curled up next to Pey with the door firmly shut. With a quick prayer of thanks to Ammita for giving the Dwall such ingenuity, Xella made her way down the hall and through the corridors.

  It would be foolish to step foot on any outpost without a firm knowledge of the layout. Running as quickly as her legs could carry her, she was at the doors to the sections that T434 had carefully skirted while escorting them to their quarters. Again, she’d encountered no one on her journey. No one. It was as if they were the only ones in the outpost.

  In a few breaths, she’d raced through the skirted sections and stood before the areas that had been labeled on her map as long term storage. Unfortunately the doors to the rooms were locked, and Xella had used her only wire on the door to their room. She blinked in frustration, wondering how long she’d have until discovery if she forced her way in.

  She was Graha-Es, a Tovenaressa. Their word was law in the twenty sectors. In theory there would be no punishment, no retribution for entering any part of this facility. The Mol had invited them here, and thus had opened their outpost to such scrutiny as she deemed necessary. This was the bargain they’d made when they’d agreed to the arbitration.

  But still, she hesitated. They were in a remote sector. There was no guarantee the power of her race would protect her. Normally she would have been confident that every Mezadu would be sent to assist, or to avenge, but lately… She hadn’t been mated. She was still a solitary soul in a race that valued diplomatic ties and expansion of power through joining. Perhaps she would disappear and Mother would accept whatever reasons the Mol gave for it.

  With a tentative stretch of her forearms, she placed them against the door and jerked them back at the feel of cold. Bone and exoskeleton aching cold. The temperature in the biosphere was so warm she hadn’t noticed until she’d gotten her arms right next to the door.

  By the grace of Ammita, how cold was it in that room? And why would the Mo
l spend a fortune chilling that space when they were cheaper than a two coin Fustain when it came to other environmental controls of this facility?

  Xella tried two more storage areas, both locked, before she headed back to her room. There was no need for such security on thermal cells or helium collectors. None. They were not particularly valuable, which was why the Mol kept production costs so low on this outpost and why they were so concerned that each shipment made it to its destination. In such a low margin business, the loss of one freighter would take nearly a full orbit of sales to recover. Not that the Dark would be interested in such products, it would be the freighter itself, chopped up and sold as parts, that would motivate them. There was simply nothing here worth the bother of locking.

  There was no way to steal enough product from this outpost to make it worth the effort. There had to be something else behind the locked doors, and Xella had an idea of what it might be. Something the Mol did not want a representative of the Graha-Es to see. Something they feared the Dark might discover in a stolen freighter. If she was right, then it had been terribly risky of them to invite her into their outpost.

  Risky. But if they could secure the protection of the Graha-Es through their Mezadu, then it would be worth the risk. Mezadu weren’t especially intelligent. They did their job with great enthusiasm and commitment, but anything outside their narrow duties might as well have never happened. If the Mol were doing something illegal, they just needed to hide it until she ruled in their favor and left. Then they’d have the protection they needed to continue without any chance of discovery from the focused and somewhat “nearsighted” Graha-Es warrior/worker class.

  And with these locked doors, it was impossible for her to accuse them. A theory based on what she’d observed wouldn’t be enough. She couldn’t act on theory and suspicion.

  The blue line was nearly gone as Xella snuck back into the room, closing the door and removing the wire. Pey was still at rest, a somewhat pink glow tinging her fingertips. It was time. She reached down to wake her little sister, once again praying to Ammita for clear sight and a mind focused on logic and a just ruling.

  * * *

  The Donnar of the outpost was introduced by his title. The emissary from the Dark was introduced as such. There were three other Mol in the room standing behind the Donnar, their gelatinous forms remarkably still. The Dark emissary had another with him to the left. None of these others were introduced. Two beings with titles. It was so ridiculous given that both she and Pey had given their names.

  “I can’t tell them apart,” Pey whispered.

  Neither could Xella. The only way to differentiate the Dark emissary from the other was by position, and the same was true of the group of Mol. She assumed if she spent sufficient time with them, little differences would become evident, but right now the four Mol in the room looked exactly like T434.

  “It’s always evident who to address,” she assured her sister. “These are formal meetings. If we were in a social situation, I’d be in just as much trouble as you.”

  Pey stifled the involuntary click of amusement, covering up the sound with one of her forearms. It was amusing. As skilled as she was in diplomacy, Xella knew her weaknesses. Eventually her knowledge of all the differing races in the twenty sectors would grow, but she’d never be good at socializing and random small talk.

  It was the sort of defect the perfect mate could remedy. But she was done thinking about that.

  “First I need to confirm that both of you understand that although we are here in hopes of reaching compromise through negotiation, if none is reached you both agree to uphold the decision made by me, Tovenaressa Xella of the Graha-Es. This is to be considered a binding arbitration.”

  Both parties signified their agreement, but it wasn’t yet time to relax. “Good. I have heard the Mol complaint as part of the original request for arbitration, and I will allow them to restate it along with supporting detail, but first I wish to hear what the Dark emissary has to say.”

  Donnar Mol quivered with indignation, but remained silent.

  The Dark emissary shifted position, his shiny metallic face turning toward Xella. “We claim rights of passage through common space. The Mol do not own the Arcturus system or the Bootes constellation. Shipping lanes are not there for their private use. We merely wish to continue traveling through such common space in search of abandoned ships and space junk to salvage.”

  Xella wished she could read the emissary. His bipedal form was like smooth silver, as if he were a statue cast from heated metal. The face held no expression, the body did not move except to pivot about to speak in her direction. The other Dark behind him was equally unhelpful. They didn’t breathe, they didn’t appear to have muscles to move. There was nothing in their physical form to indicate what might lie behind their words.

  She had nothing to go on but history. The Dark were brutal. They’d been accused repeatedly of raider activities hidden under the legal guise of salvage. No crew ever remained alive to dispute their claims. Bodies were never recovered. Still, as distasteful as she found them, as suspect as their business interests were, she could find no fault in their claim to what were common routes, open to all races of the twenty sectors.

  The Donnar Mol, as well as his contingent, were not so stoic. Xella deliberately waited a moment before asking them to speak, watching as their quivering increased. It was somewhat hypnotic, the sway of their gelatinous forms.

  “These are private shipping lanes,” the Donnar announced. “No other race has outposts or mining operations in the Arcturus system. There is no need for them to be searching for salvage or junk where we are the only occupants. If there is a disabled ship in this system, it is ours to take care of, not the Dark.”

  True, but their initial complaint had stated they wanted sole use of far more than the Arcturus system.

  “But what are your reasons for claiming private use of the entire Bootes constellation?”

  The Donnar stilled his shaking, gold tinging his form. “No one else uses it. The Dark has no reason to be there.”

  The Dark representative made a slash motion with one hand. “Just because no one is currently using it beyond the Mol doesn’t mean there are not items of interest from many orbits ago. There is also the possibility that a junked vessel may drift into the shipping lanes. Are we to hinder our business operations just because the Mol have a prejudicial fear of us?”

  The Donnar glared. “There is a universe full of shipping lanes to search for salvage. We only ask this one to be off limits.”

  In the big scheme of things it wasn’t a request that would grossly hinder the Dark. This was a remote sector, and the Bootes constellation shouldn’t have anything worthy of the Dark’s attentions. Were they doing this to harass the Mol? To make them pay a protection fee? Why did the Dark care about this tiny system in the middle of nowhere that only served to transport items of little to no value?

  That was a series of questions that must be answered, but in the meantime, as inconsequential as the Bootes constellation was, Xella didn’t want to set a precedent for this sort of thing. If the Mol received their exclusive use, then others would want the same.

  It would be unfair to other races who shouldn’t be restricted to only a handful of shipping lanes. And it would anger the Dark, who would retaliate in a sneaky and violent fashion. War. The kind of war where the attackers claimed innocence and struck in the dark of night, vanishing without a clue as to who they were. It would be a diplomatic nightmare.

  Xella tapped one of her mid-limbs on the table. “Would it be acceptable if the Dark were to notify the Mol of any salvage they come across that relates to their shipping and mining operations? Would the Dark agree not to board or remove anything from the ship without consent from the Mol?”

  As expected, both parties exploded in speech, protesting the proposal. Finders keepers was the philosophy of the Dark, and the Mol were also unwilling to budge.

  Xella faced Donnar Mol. “Yo
u haven’t complained about Dwall or Human ships in this space. Why do you object specifically about the Dark presence here? Do you have proof that they will do your ships harm? Do you have proof that they have done so in the past?”

  Of course not. The Dark would never be so foolish as to leave anything behind that could possibly implicate them in murder or a piratical raid. This was a no-win situation. Xella knew the Dark illegally seized ships, and she also suspected the Mol of illegal operations on Arcturus 5. What to do when both parties were in the wrong? How she longed to slap them like naughty children and send them off to stasis on a cold slab as punishment.

  The Donnar Mol turned a darker shade of gold, but before he could speak, an explosion rocked the biosphere.

  There was silence as everyone in the room looked at each other. Xella felt one of Pey’s midarms touch her side.

  “What was that?” It seemed silly to ask. The collection of thermals and helium was a safe operation. Helium was inert, and none of the storage containers should have enough pressure to create a risk of explosion.

  The Mol were neon yellow at this point. The Donnar nervously fingered a button on the table.

  “Yes, what was that?” The Dark emissary seemed amused, although Xella wasn’t sure how she could tell with their lack of facial expression.

  Another explosion rocked the room. Then another. Then a series of violent blasts that sent both Xella and Pey to the ground. Something cracked, and with a sound of shattering glass, the biosphere broke.

  It hadn’t been a small breach. Emergency lights flashed and sirens wailed. The Donnar Mol pushed the button on the table and a set of containment suits shot from the floor to cover the Mol.

  How convenient, Xella thought as she struggled upright. The temperature in the room doubled. She could feel the radiation against her skin, sparking and burning.