My Life: An Ex-Quarterback's Adventures in the Galactic Empire

by Colin Alexander

  “Danny, wait a moment. Something you said, I don’t know what, reminded me of a place.” I waited, as requested, while she put her thoughts in order. “I remember Valaria saying that we had made a deal for some equipment with a gray zone station. I remember him saying that he was sure they’d gotten it from a freebooter through a station in the Outer Empire. It sticks in my mind because Kaaran has stations out there we would normally use to channel goods. This was through an independent, so it was unusual.”

  “Can you remember the system?”

  “Give me a moment.” She closed her eyes. Then, “Graudoc!” she exclaimed. “That’s where it was.”

  “Well, that’s a great start. Do you remember anything else about it?”

  “No, only the name. But if we dealt with them on Kaaran, it has to be in the computer and the entry should be reasonably current.”

  We checked and it was. Graudoc turned out to be a world in the gray zone controlled by one of the smaller kvenningari. There wasn’t much that stood out about the world. It held 2.5 billion Srihani on a surface area a bit smaller than Earth’s. A diversified range of industries made Graudoc largely self-sufficient in the necessities of life, fairly typical for a contemporary Imperial world. If the world was plain vanilla, however, the station was not. Graudoc maintained a large trading station and, according to the computer, most of the traffic was with kvenningari worlds. Visits from the Fleet were rare.

  “None of which directly states that they will deal with freebooters,” I mused, “but from what you remember they’ve done it once before, even if indirectly. I do believe it’s worth a try.”

  Graudoc was a good thirty degrees Galactic east and another five degrees off the ecliptic from where we were. Reaching it took three lengthy transits, during which I had time to lose my confidence in making the deal five times. I knew the cynta was worth a fortune, I just wasn’t sure how big a fortune.

  The approach to Graudoc went in the manner of all other station approaches. True, there was a destroyer that detached itself from planetary orbit as we came in, something that would rarely happen in the Outer Empire, but I could hardly blame them. With the station orbiting the inhabited planet, instead of an outer gas giant as it would be in the Outer Empire, they had a right to be nervous. Franny’s signature would look like an Imperial cruiser, but once she identified herself as a private vessel, the station would know she was a heavily armed, and unusual, freebooter. When we docked, I held the liberty down to ten percent of the crew at any one time. Given my preference, none of the crew would have gone on station, but a move like that would have raised suspicions about our intentions even more. The fewer of them on station the better, just in case Graudoc decided to be righteous about freebooters.

  Angel and I went off to the station manager’s office. That was another interesting custom. The captain, in person, carried out the negotiations. It probably gave the station manager some assurance that nothing was being hatched while the negotiations went on. Angel was along because the same custom allowed me a single symbolic bodyguard.

  The office was a plush suite near the station’s main hub. I had been on a ship long enough that the size of those rooms made me feel as though I was on the Great Plains. The suite took up a vertical three stories, with an immense vaulted ceiling. Eight-feet-high view ports looked out on the station’s satellite hubs and Graudoc beyond. It was a long walk from the doorway to the manager’s desk. That desk was a work of art in itself. It encompassed an arc of sixty degrees, a chord from end to end must have been twenty feet, and the solid stone top showed polished swirls of pink and red. The only item on it was a computer keyboard, set off to one side. I didn’t see a monitor and realized that it must have a virtual screen. The output would hang in the air and could be seen only from the desk chair. Such machines were not cheap.

  The Srihani who sat behind the desk was a glaring contrast to the desk, to the expanse of sparkling tiles we had crossed on our way from the door, and to the bejeweled flunkies who sat in multicolored tunics on either side of the desk. Dremmon a Hrustun, the station manager, was as fat a Srihani as I had seen, far too fat for even the memory fabric clothes to help. His tunic must have antedated his present girth; it stretched tightly over his belly and wrinkled elsewhere. Fresh grease adorned the tunic over one breast and had not been entirely wiped from his lips. The hair that remained on his balding pate was unkempt.

  “Good voyage, Captain Danny a Troy?” Dremmon inquired formally.

  “A good voyage, Station Manager Dremmon,” I replied in kind.

  The formality out of the way, Dremmon got down to business.

  “Tell me what brings a private, heavily armed ship to Graudoc.” His belly prevented him from leaning forward, but his eyes narrowed and his voice hardened. Dremmon wasn’t looking for a polite answer.

  “Trade.”

  Dremmon’s answering laugh had no humor in it. “Freebooters. What makes you think I deal with scum?”

  “Well, for one,” I said lightly, “it’s a fair bet that your hands are as dirty as your tunic.”

  Underneath the blubber, Dremmon stiffened. So did the dandies on either side of him. I could sense Angel bracing himself at my side.

  “Have a care, freebooter,” Dremmon said softly, “I directly represent Evronan kvenningar. On this station, I am supreme and my word will not be questioned. You two are very alone here.”

  I tried to look relaxed, even though I was as edgy as everyone else in the room. A leader should always look relaxed, especially if he isn’t. My high school coach had told me so.

  “Don’t get your balls in a knot, Dremmon. First of all, he,” I gestured at Angel, “isn’t my real bodyguard. The ship is and you know it. Second, unless you’re dumber than you look, you knew we were freebooters looking to trade from the moment we opened comm and you saw the specs on the ship. Now, the first deal I’ll make is this. You don’t insult me and I won’t insult you.”

  The change in Dremmon was immediate, as he decided that intimidation wouldn’t bring him a negotiating advantage. He waved a pudgy hand in front of his face and said, “Fine. What do you have to deal?”

  We went to work, one item at a time, through the cargo manifest of the ship we’d taken. At each item, Dremmon would name a price, either in credit or barter. Occasionally, he consulted his terminal before speaking. No matter what he said, I responded with screams of rage or disbelief before demanding a much higher price. Then it was Dremmon’s turn to choke in indignation, accusing me of demanding good money for worthless merchandise that he would probably have to jettison to space. Then he would make me another offer and it would be my turn again.

  This sort of bargaining depends almost as much on sitzfleisch as it does on an appreciation of what the goods are really worth. Usually, the station manager has a sizable advantage. He knows his local market better than a freebooter can. It is also much easier for him to say “no.” Which is why I found the negotiations at Graudoc odd. I was doing too well. On some items, Dremmon was agreeing to prices far higher than I knew I could obtain at stations in the Outer Empire. This was surprising, because I was clearly out of my territory and, in any case, one would expect to have to take a larger discount in close to real Imperial territory where goods were easier to obtain legitimately. By the time we had run through the manifest, I was wondering if Dremmon might be as dumb as he looked.

  “Well, freebooter,” he said, “have we finished your cargo?”

  We had, at least the conventional cargo. I said we had. It had been my intention to see how he delivered on the agreement before going any farther. Wrong.

  “All right, Captain!” Dremmon looked impatient and pouty. “What are you really dealing?”

  “Excuse me?” I asked in my best choirboy voice.

  “Don’t play games, Captain! I’m not in the mood. Your ship has never traded at Graudoc before. In fact, from what is known of your ship, you always trade in the Outer Empire. Even when you hit in the gray zone, yes,
information like that can be found. So why would you trade somewhere you know you’ll take a beating? It isn’t because your ship is damaged. No, you are dealing something that can’t be moved in the Outer Empire. Why in a black hole’s ass do you think I gave you such an obscenity of a profit on all this chaff? I want the real deal!”

  So much for Dremmon being dumb. If I withheld the cynta then, I would have to forget trading at Graudoc.

  “No offense is meant.” I think I managed a soothing tone. “As you pointed out, I’ve never dealt here, or in this region, before. I had no intention of keeping the deal from you, but I did want to do one with you first. However, under the circumstances, and as a sign of good faith and my trust in you, I am prepared to discuss my other cargo.”

  “What … is … it?”

  “Cynta.”

  “How much?”

  I told him and I thought he was going to have an orgasm right there, behind the desk. After a moment, he had himself back under control, but now there was sweat on his face, shimmering in competition with the grease. Dremmon had begun to see the potential problems with the deal.

  “This could take some time.”

  “You managed a transshipment of freebooter goods to Kaaran once, information like that can be found also. So, I know that you can do it. Of course, if you don’t want the deal …” I started to get up.

  “No! But I cannot do it instantaneously. Nobody could. If you won’t believe me, shop them around. If you haven’t been ambushed by a fleet, once the word is out, come back to me.”

  I believed him. “Quote me a price.”

  “No. Not yet. For something like this, I must have the buyer arranged first. Otherwise, it is too risky for me. Let us complete the other deal, you may have the inflated prices we agreed on. Then, as soon as I have a buyer, we can discuss the cynta.”

  “Agreed, Dremmon. But remember one thing. If anything comes through a wormhole that I don’t like, the first broadsword I fire is going to be targeted on this room.” His face was an interesting mixture of greed and fear when we left.

  It was a tense wait. Initially, there was no concern, of course. Dremmon, as promised, sent off a fast messenger boat before Angel and I were back aboard Franny. A ship through a wormhole is the faster way to send a message between stars—you can’t beam a signal through one—so, until that boat made transit, our secret was safe in the Graudoc system. We used that time to exchange the rest of the cargo and to give the crew brief liberty. Then, when the boat vanished down a wormhole, I pulled everyone off the station and put Franny into a wide parking orbit, way off the ecliptic. We kept battle stations and a close eye on the direct course to the station from each charted wormhole. It rapidly became tense and boring.

  We had been floating out there for a few days, loaded for bear and with nothing to do, when Jaenna popped into my cabin shortly after an evening watch change. We had both been busy since the approach to Graudoc and had seen each other only officially since then. The way she came in didn’t look like business. She looked like a teenager, bubbling over with a secret she couldn’t keep any longer.

  “Danny, I have to show you what I found on that station!”

  Uh-oh. While we were unloading, Jaenna must have found time to go shopping. This, I’d discovered, had different connotations than I had been used to on Earth. Jaenna went for weapons the way most girls went for clothes and jewelry. Not long before, she had come back with a customized blaster, the grip shaped exactly to her hand and inlaid with a mosaic of tiny gems. My first impression had been that it was decorative, but the pack delivered a higher intensity charge than normal and the custom grip made Jaenna’s already quick draw even faster. It seemed that if it crackled, shot or exploded, Jaenna had seen it before and wanted to collect it. I wondered what she had this time.

  “Look at this!”

  I looked. I didn’t know what to make of it. The thing was about eight inches long, shiny gray, and had about the same shape as a couple of stacked shin guards once she pulled the sheathing off it. Straps dangled from the concave side and a black glove, minus the fingers, was attached to one end.

  “What is it?” It didn’t appear to be a weapon, but it didn’t appear to be anything else, either.

  “I haven’t seen one of these since I left Kaaran, and that one was only on display. Here, feel it.” She tossed the apparatus to me. It was much lighter than I would have expected from its size.

  “Jaenna, if you saw one on Kaaran, that’s one more than I’ve seen. I give up. What is it?”

  “It’s a wrist rocket.”

  “That doesn’t tell me anything. What’s a wrist rocket?”

  “Here, I’ll show you.” Jaenna, obviously, was going to show it off, even if I had said, “Oh yeah, a wrist rocket. So what?”

  She slipped the device over her left forearm and thrust her hand into the glove. It completely covered the span between elbow and wrist, but hardly hampered her motion at all.

  “This shroud covers the launcher for a miniature missile,” she explained. “It’s tiny, but it carries a very high-yield warhead. The explosive is hard to work with, larger amounts deteriorate too fast and it’s expensive, so it’s only put into specialty items like this. It’s not nuclear, you use it in close. Just clench your fist in the glove to arm it. It launches when you open the hand.”

  I stared at the bulge over her forearm. “You’re telling me there is a live missile under that?”

  “Yes. It’s a fantastic job of miniaturization.”

  And probably not made in Japan either. Not for the first time did I think that old Haranyi, whoever he was, had been too thorough with Jaenna’s education. “It’s interesting, Jaenna, but what is it good for? I mean, is that how you plan to get through my door if I lock it?”

  That started her laughing. The peals of laughter eventually trailed off into a prolonged giggle. When she was finally able to talk, she said, “You wouldn’t lock your door, Danny. You like having me come in because I enjoy listening to your stories.”

  Which was true enough. We ended, as often before, with Jaenna curled up in one of the cabin’s large chairs, chin resting in the palm of one small hand and rocketry forgotten. I sat there and reminisced about the time I had beaten Philadelphia, after they traded me, by eluding two linebackers on a wild scramble. Jaenna did enjoy my football stories, bless her. There was a lot of cold water to recycle that evening.

  At long last, there was an incoming ship and the signal came from Graudoc Station. Dremmon had found a buyer and wanted to meet me to discuss terms. This time there was no game of make-believe. Franny didn’t dock with the station at all. Instead, I took a boat across while Ruoni kept the crew at battle stations and Jaenna’s force stood by their boats. Once again, with Angel as my only companion, I was shown into Dremmon’s office.

  Dremmon’s appearance was unchanged, right down to the same greasy tunic, which sported a new stain above the curve of his belly. This time, however, he came to the point immediately. “I have found a buyer for your cynta, Captain.”

  “Good,” I replied. “Let’s get the price agreed on and I’ll arrange to off-load it.”

  “No. Not like that. Not like that at all.”

  I could see that Dremmon was nervous, just by the pattern of sweat appearing on his tunic. I couldn’t tell what he had in mind, so I asked.

  He told me that he had no intention of ever taking the cynta onto the station. To do that would require him to buy the cargo and then transfer it to the ultimate buyer. He wouldn’t put so much credit at stake, even for a short period. I thought it was more likely that the buyer didn’t trust Dremmon as a middleman, but I saw no reason to bring that up.

  “You’ll have to come to terms directly with the buyer,” Dremmon insisted. Then, he wanted his commission from me, up front, before giving the name and location.

  Like hell I was going to put up that much. Not until I knew I had a sale. We argued over that for a while, until I finally agreed to post his commis
sion, although a lower one than he wanted. Admittedly, it was a huge sum for a ship to post. We could do it, though, having just sold Dremmon the rest of the cargo at a generous markup. Presumably, I could make it all up from the buyer. Even if the deal fell apart, it wasn’t a large risk. Graudoc Station couldn’t exactly run away, and I could always come back.

  “There’s just one thing remaining then,” I said, “who and where?”

  “Your contact is Aalaza, the Imperial governor of Calldlamm system. I will send the coordinates to your ship, if you need them.”

  I know my eyebrows shot up. “This is an Imperial world?”

  “Nominally Imperial,” Dremmon corrected me. “Aalaza’s first loyalty is with Carrillacki.”

  Chapter 16

  Franny’s computer said that Calldlamm was in the Inner Empire, not the gray zone. We had plenty of former Fleet personnel in the crew, but this still made me nervous. No matter how close to disintegration the empire was, Imperial space meant Fleet ships, both the real McCoy and the kvenningari imitations, in far greater numbers than the wretched Outer Empire ever saw. I imagine a barbarian chieftain traveling to Rome in the fifth century might have felt the same way.

  Calldlamm’s star was F5, bigger and brighter than Earth’s sun, and Calldlamm was the fifth planet out from the star, swinging around in a much wider orbit than Earth did. Okay, astronomy is nice, but I wanted to know about weapons emplacements.

  We picked those up as we closed in on the planet. Ruoni announced the presence of multiple orbital satellites and displayed their positions on the screen as he talked.

  “Calldlamm doesn’t have a moon,” he said, “so those are the only fixed space defenses. There are half a dozen ships, but they are small. Subdestroyer class at best. Info coming on surface emplacements now.”

  Figures and symbols speckled the map of Calldlamm on the screen. There was a lot, but it wasn’t quite the kind of defensive network I had expected. The ships were, small and ultrafast, but lightly armed and not equipped for interstellar travel. The satellites bristled with beams but seemed to have few missiles. Only the ground-based weapons looked heavy enough for an Imperial world.