Harris rubbed his head. “What are you suggesting?”
Tawn laughed. “I’m suggesting we try to sell these repeaters to the miners, you moron. For about six hundred fifty credits they could drill a hundred meter shaft in less than a day. That proposition has gotta have some value to it.”
“So you wanna go back and see if they bite?”
Tawn nodded. “I do. And think about this… we find someone to repackage this thing so it doesn’t look like a rifle and we could make a fortune selling them as mining gear. Think about all the charges we could sell on a regular supplier basis.”
Harris released his belt. “Well let’s go give it a try.”
Two hours were spent with the trading post owner and his brother, demonstrating the benefits of the repeating rifle as a mining tool. A single rifle and five charges were purchased for a special deposit price of three hundred credits, close to their cost. Another hour was spent conducting a test going deep into a nearby rock wall.
At ten meters the passage collapsed due to the vibrations from the plasma rounds. The explosions caused microfractures that ran deep into the rock. Duke Fizel handed the rifle back, demanding his deposit be returned. A disheartened Tawn Freely released the hold on the funds.
After returning to the Bangor, Harris strapped himself in. “Who’s the moron now? We’re down two charges and now have a used repeater to sell.”
Tawn frowned. “Really thought we had one there.”
Harris looked over with a grin as he tightened his lap belt. “You might want to snap that together and cinch it tight. I’m feeling the need for some practice about now.”
Tawn replied, “This punishment?”
Harris flipped on the retrojets as he continued his grin. “Take it however you want.”
The ride back to open space was not for the faint of heart. As the dark of space was reached, a wormhole was opened to the colony of Grendig.
Chapter 6
_______________________
Grendig housed forty-two thousand colonists, all living in a single structure. It was an ice planet with a liquid ocean just under the surface. Other than fishing, there was nothing much else to do. The harsh temperatures, rarely reaching zero degrees on the Celsius scale, left most inhabitants staying indoors.
A fifty-meter-wide hole had been drilled through the thick ice. Submersible fishing vessels with long nets were sent out daily. A cargo ship coming from Domicile twice a month, to pick up the catch they had for sale, was the only interaction with home.
Again, the locals were less than friendly and in no need of weapons. Harris’ effort to sell a repeating rifle as a drill to dig through the ice fell on deaf ears. Tawn suffered through another round of atmospheric practice as the Bangor made its way back to free space. The next jump would be made to Farmingdale.
***
The ride down to the surface, and on to Farmingdale Colony #1, was bumpy but tolerable. Harris was getting command of his ship. Tawn was still not impressed. The boxy freight-shuttle settled on the tarmac next to two other small ships. A courtesy vehicle was waiting to take them the five kilometers into Colony #1.
Twelve colonies dotted the otherwise largely flat plains of the southern hemisphere of the small planet. Reduced gravity made walking without having a hop in your step difficult. The Biomarine duo entered the local supply store. The lone clerk stood with a pursed smile on her face.
Tawn bounced up to the counter. “Who would we talk to here about selling some personal firearms to?”
The clerk’s eye’s grew wide. “Nobody here in town. You’ll have to go up to Colony #13 in the mountains. They do hunting and such up there. Down here we have no need.”
Tawn sighed. “Can you offer the coordinates to Colony #13?”
The clerk replied, “It’s the only mountain range on this continent. The colony is on the east end. You can’t miss it.”
Tawn rapped her knuckles on the counter. “Thanks.”
The Bangor was piloted toward the mountain colony. Farm after farm stretched out for kilometers as the craft moved over the plains. Five small concrete buildings made up Colony #13. The Bangor hovered and then dropped down to a grass field with a ship marker.
Tawn scowled. “Not looking promising, is it?”
A short walk had the two entering a meeting hall, where twenty of the colonists had gathered.
Tawn apologized for the interruption. “Sorry.”
A man standing at a podium spoke. “You come in for the migration?”
Harris asked, “The migration?”
The man gestured toward the outside. “The herds of boglers that will be through here in a couple hours. It’s a biannual event. Millions of those beasts will be charging right down through this valley and out onto the plains. That’s why all those farms are to the south. You had to have flown over the separation wall coming out here.”
Harris nodded. “We did. Was kind of curious as to what it was for.”
The man walked out from his podium. “In about ten days we’ll be taking down every bogler we can. Feeds us and gives us meat and fur to trade with the farmers. When the herd has passed we’ll spend the next thirty days skinning, drying and packing the meat. You interested in some work? If so, you came at just the right time.”
Tawn asked, “There’s five buildings out here. How many of you are there?”
The man glanced around the room. “This is it. Except for one on lookout for the herd. We’ll spend the next forty days right here in town, and then head back to our cabins in the mountains. There’s plenty of space out here if you want to homestead. You look like a sturdy couple; it can be rough living at times, but I’m sure you’d do fine.”
Tawn scowled. “Oh, we’re not a couple. We’re business partners.”
The man nodded. “Yeah, well, call it what you want. If you want the work, it’s coming this way. If not, you’ll want to move that ship. Of course I guess you’ll want to move that ship anyway. There’s a rock outcropping about two kilometers south of here. You could park it there.”
Harris replied, “We saw it.”
Tawn said, “We’re here to sell personal arms. Any of you have a need?”
Four hands were raised.
Harris asked, “What can we sell you?”
One of the men stepped forward with a sewn up sleeve. “I need a right arm.”
The other hunters laughed.
Harris shook his head. “Can’t help you there. We’re selling firearms. I have repeating plasma rifles… ideal for hunting bogler. Or we have standard plasma rifles and Fox-40s.”
One of the men raised a hand. “You mean zappers?”
Tawn stood silent for several seconds. “Some people call them that. You need one?”
The man asked. “How many kilos?”
Tawn replied, “How many kilos what? What are you asking?”
“How many kilograms of bogler meat? I could use me one of those zappers for the strays during the summer.”
Harris raised a hand. “You don’t have credits?”
The man replied, “Mister, everything on Farmingdale is barter. I’d be willing to trade two hundred fifty kilos of dried and packed bogler beef for a zapper.”
Tawn asked, “Does anyone have credits? Or do the farmers trade credits for meat?”
The men in the room looked around at each other. None were wearing the common account bracelet seen on Domicile and the other colonies.
The lookout raced into the door. “They’re coming early!”
The door to the building was pulled shut and locked.
Harris moved toward the door. “If you let us out, we’ll come back after.”
The man shook his head. “Sorry, too late. This door opens and we all die.”
The walls began to shake as the sound of hooves grew from a low rumble to a violent torrent of stampeding chaos.
The speaker grimaced. “Sorry about your ship. We usually have at least an hour’s notice.”
The loo
kout said, “They didn’t pool in the upper pasture this year. They just came racing down. I barely made it in here.”
Tawn asked, “So what do we do? How do we get out of here?”
The speaker replied, “You don’t. Not until it’s on the wane, which is usually eight to ten days.”
“What are we supposed to eat and drink in the meantime?” Tawn asked.
“These buildings are connected by tunnels. We’ll move over to the dining hall in a couple hours, unless you need food this instant for some reason.”
Harris looked around the room at the burly mountain men who were now their mates for the next eight or so days. “I don’t suppose there’s a deck on top of this building, is there?”
The speaker nodded. “Right over here. I’m Noff, by the way. Toby, put the ladder up for us.”
The lookout cut through the others, propping a wooden ladder against a wall that led up to a hatch. A quick climb had him through and standing on the roof.
Noff gestured toward the ladder. “Go on up if you’re curious as to what so many beasts look like. Might even be able to see what’s left of your ship.”
Harris was the first up the ladder, followed by Tawn and then Noff. A sea of gray-furred boglers covered the previously grassy valley floor that surrounded the five buildings. Colony #13 had become five tiny concrete islands in a matter of a few minutes. The grand herd rose up out of town, disappearing over a rise to the west. On the east, the gray herd was quickly spreading out on the plains. The Bangor, now upside down, sat a hundred meters from its prior location.
Harris shook his head. “That ship weighs tons.”
Noff nodded. “Holding up pretty well so far. What’s she made of?”
Harris replied, “Depleted uranium and metallic carbide. She’s dense and heavy.”
“Well, if she survives, you’re likely to have a long walk to get to her. They got her rolling pretty good there.”
One of the colonists stepped close up behind Tawn. “You look pretty and you smell good, my name’s Hobb.”
Tawn took a whiff, scrunching up her face. “I’m a slug and you’re a skunk. Sorry, the two don’t really mix.”
Tawn looked back to see three more sets of overly friendly eyes ogling her sturdy body. “Sorry fellas. Not gonna happen. I’m a city girl.”
Harris laughed. “City girl? Since when?”
Tawn returned a vicious gaze. “Mind your own business, please. Now Mr. Noff, we mentioned that we have guns for sale. Is there an exchange on this planet where we could trade that meat for credits?”
Noff thought. “We only trade with the farmers. If there’s any type of banking system here on Farmingdale, you’ll have to go ask them.”
Harris looked back at the others that were now crowding the roof. “So what do you guys do for ten days when this is going on?”
Noff replied, “We tell stories from the past year. Most of us haven’t seen another person during that time, except the few of us that have wives. Janeal, my wife, is the sister of Mardo over there. And Baka and Gandy have wives. The rest of us are loners.
“But I could tell you what’s been going on with just about any of these fellas over the last ten years. Except this past year. Haven’t heard those stories yet.
Noff crossed his arms. “Mardo and I live across the valley from each other. I see him and my sister-in-law Willia out roaming their side of the valley once every few weeks. Other than that I think this year I saw at least three others once. We never talk though as it would leave us with nothing to say during the migration.”
Noff gestured to the others. “Come on. Let’s head over to the lounge. We can get started with the stories.”
The men of Colony #13 began to climb down the ladder.
Tawn asked, “Are the women here?”
Noff nodded. “Over in the bath house. We give them their privacy before the migration. They’ll join us in the lounge shortly I’m sure. They offer some of the best stories every year. My wife, Janeal, is an excellent storyteller.”
The group gathered in the lounge. Three dozen individual chairs made a semicircle around a single highchair. The speaker, when given the main chair, would stay for up to a day, depending on the stories they had and their ability to tell them.
Noff, the elected chieftain of Colony #13, had the honor of being the first to speak. The group settled as the four women came through a hatch door from a tunnel, taking their places with their men.
“Well, we packed our meat from the last migration on our sleds and began to drag it back to our cabin. You all saw us leave. Anyway, we hadn’t gone two hundred meters and our sled broke. We had to stop to fix it. Used the twine we got… I think two migrations ago. Yep. We traded the farmers five kilos of meat for it. Still got enough for another three or four migrations. Just in case we need it.”
Tawn strained to listen over the rumble of bogler hooves as Noff droned on for two hours about every little detail of his trip carrying the meat from the colony back to his cabin. There would no doubt be an equally as boring version coming from his wife when her turn came to the speaking chair.
Tawn sat with her jaw dropped slightly while attempting to keep from rudely falling asleep. A glance at Harris yielded an image of a Biomarine slumped in his chair, eyes closed, and drool coming from the corner of his mouth. The mountaineer sitting beside him watched it curiously, waiting for the latest string of spittle to separate and drop. Tawn stopped to rub her tired eyes as Noff interrupted a particularly boring story about patching a hole in his roof. It was time for a dinner break.
Tawn shook Harris. “Stump. Get your ass up. Dinner time. And clean your mouth. You look disgusting.”
Harris checked and wiped the wet corner of his mouth with his forearm. “What’d I miss?”
Tawn returned a scowling stare. “Did you hear about his fall into the ravine? Or about the wall of the storehouse collapsing after a heavy rain?”
Harris shook his head. “I must have been out by then.”
Tawn replied sarcastically, “I’ll make sure he tells them to you personally. They were screamers.”
The dinner consisted of year-old, dried bogler strips with a home brewed beer that had an extra kick to it. The mostly quiet colonists were soon chatting away, with laughter and singing. This was followed by a ritualistic walk back to the lounge in complete silence.
As everyone took their seats, Tawn raised her hand. “Sorry to interrupt, but are we allowed to speak?”
Noff stood from the speaking chair. “How rude of us! Of course! You must have new stories from years and years worth of living. I’m certain the others would be equally as fascinated to hear them.”
Nods and agreeing mumbles went around the room.
Noff moved to the side of the chair. “Please. Come take the floor. We would be honored.”
Harris chuckled. “You gonna tell them about how Red was ripping you off? We took an oath about the war.”
“Maybe. Or maybe I have a story or two in me. You know. Both of us fought as Biomarines for sixteen years. And if you read your release papers you’d have seen that they negated all oaths and pledges. We’re free and they don’t want us back. Anyway, gotta be a few experiences to talk about from that.”
Harris sat back in his chair. “Didn’t realize they took the mufflers off us. This could get interesting.”
Tawn sat in the chair, making herself comfortable. “OK. Who here knows what a slug and a stump are?”
Several hands were raised.
Tawn shook her head. “I’m not talking about the little animal or the cutoff trunk of a tree. I’m talking about the war with the New Earthers.”
The hands dropped.
Tawn smiled. “We have to roll the clock back about fifty years. On Domicile, the war had been at a stalemate for almost a hundred fifty years. The DD, Domicile Defense, would destroy a half dozen New Earth ships in a battle and six months later they would do the same to us.
“The colonies out here… i
f they had leanings or dealings with one world or the other they would periodically get raided. I’m sure you heard about Farmingdale getting completely wiped out twice.”
Several eyes grew large.
“No? Well I’ll have to come back to that. You see, our scientists and leaders decided they needed to work on a super-soldier of sorts. Due to a plethora of spies on both sides, our weapons were equal, and our ships were equal, leaving only our fighters to monkey around with.
“Mr. Gruberg there and myself are the result of that monkeying around. We’re what you would call Biomarines. Genetically altered Humans.
“We were taken as donor sperm and eggs and fiddled with until the genetic traits the military was looking for came out. We’re strong and agile. We can run fast and have great endurance. Our metabolism is slow so we don’t have to eat as much, but we do.
“Our blood holds a slightly higher oxygen content, so we can fight in an atmosphere with about 20 percent less oxygen and still function at peak. Basically, they took a bunch of the good genes and crammed them into us. We number about ten thousand, and I believe we were part of the reason the truce was signed.
“Now, as you can see, with all that design and manipulation being geared toward war, they left off those genes that would have made us attractive to other humans. I’m referred to as a slug. I have the body of a bulldog with this flat pug face. The slug name came about during our psychological training where we were called pretty much every name in the book. Slug stuck.”
One of the colonists raised his hand. “I think you’re pretty.”
Tawn replied, “Thank you, Hobb. Might be because you only have one eye. You and I mixing would be something like trying to cross a cuddly male kitten with one of those boglers out there. Not gonna work on any level.
“Anyway. The male version, Mr. Gruberg there, he’s called a stump. All you have to do is look at him to know why. He’s got that bulbous head with a thick short neck. He’s as deep front to back as he is side to side. Again, we were bred for war.”
ARMS War for Eden Page 6
