by Alma Boykin
The man smiled, revealing badly twisted teeth. “That’s her. What’s she doing now?”
“Married out of the Komets before Krather died, had four kids and a happy husband, last I heard. He does all the finances for the family.”
Davoud leaned back and laughed. “Well I’ll be feathered. You served with her?”
“For a while, sir. She got out a year or so after I joined the Komets.”
“Damn, it’s a small galaxy.” He stopped. “Wait. How long ago did Krather die?”
Rada tried to remember. “Twelve years ago? Yes, sir, twelve years Standard.”
Davoud’s face seemed to close in on itself. “Its been twelve years since . . . Damn it. She promised ten and I couldn’t ask for more. We never . . . shit. Go away.”
Whatever was going on, Rada decided obeying would be better than asking questions. “Yes, sir.”
Lt. Ki’kwali filled her in at the main meal the next “day.” “It’s like this, ma’am. They contract for a set time, with a renewal ceremony if they want to go on. Never heard of a human and a Rubyor contracting but,” he made a complicated gesture with his forelegs. “It’s a big universe.”
“That it is. I’ve heard of stranger. No, belay that, I’ve heard of less likely. Humans and Rubyor live on similar worlds and have similar physiologic processes. I’ve heard of a human and a Grilkwor floater who partnered up.”
Ki’kwali’s eye lids slid up over his faceted black eyes, then lowered again. “Don’t Grilkwor live on a low-grav, chlorine atmosphere world, ma’am?”
“Yes. I didn’t ask how. Other people’s relationships are not my concern.”
“Point, ma’am. Humans are strange.”
No argument here.
Rada was not in the least surprised when one of the Rubyor medical personnel approached her after the meal. “Captain, you are certified in mammalian medicine?” The bird-like bipedal entity stood with relaxed forelimbs, its feather-like sensory organ a calm greige, brownish grey. It looked a bit like the Scouts did after getting dusty, in fact, and Rada resisted the urge to tell it to get cleaned up.
“Yes, but emergency medicine and trauma care only, sir.”
The Rubyor’s color shifted, more grey than tan. “Ah. I had hoped you could explain the new illness of the human. He refuses to eat and has developed a negative emotional state.”
I can but will you understand? No, I’ll give a general explanation and leave broken hearts out of it. “He inquired about the difference in years between Standard and Holpanki. The number surprised and upset him, and humans often respond to unpleasant surprises by losing their appetite and turning their thoughts inward for a short period of time.”
“Ah. The opposite of birth Rubyor behavior. Thank you, Captain. You are most useful.”
Rada winced inside at the literal translation, but made a gesture of gratitude. And that, Scouts, is why translation software has caused more wars than anything but the quest for mates. She decided that she agreed with Yori. If someone wanted to fight against the Holpanki, she’d volunteer. Well, maybe not, but she’d give them a discount on her usual fee and expense base rate.
* * *
“Captain dar Ohrkan, didn’t the government tell the people about what happened on Holpan?” The size of the gathered crowd made Rada concerned and a little nervous both. People tended to attack the bearers of bad news. And there were a lot of people shown on the images from the news feed.
“Yes, they did. But no one believes anything from Holpan, apparently, and so all the families who had members taken prisoner sent representatives.”
At least he looked as uncomfortable as Rada felt. Especially since she only had her sidearm (and usual back-up surprises) and no body armor. They’d left their heavy kit on board the transport, per mission orders, and Rada felt naked. Being naked in front of a crowd made her unhappy. Rada unhappy made her troopers unhappy, and they gave the two senior officers more space than usual. The Rubyors ignored the mercenaries, too interested in the virtual window showing their atmospheric approach and descent into the main landing area designated for the meeting. Davoud ignored everything, wrapped in the proverbial black fog. He wasn’t one of Rada’s troopers, so she couldn’t tell him to be glad he got off without kitling-support payments or honor fees and to find another female. That also made her unhappy.
The two captains had already decided on the disembarkation order. Yori first with his guards, then the Rubyors and all the Scouts who were head blind, then Rada and her two guards. The restriction Rada put on the Scouts left them with only twenty troopers, but Rada and Yori both felt it was for the best. They waited for the shove of the landing brakes, then the thump of touchdown. After the usual period for atmospheric equalization and external cool-down, the safety harness off-light flashed and everyone unstrapped. The emergency hatches unlocked and opened, and the passengers began filing toward the main hatchway. Yori handed Lt. Ordo the hard copies of all the documents, and they stepped out into a damp, misty dark day. Rada sniffed the cold air and barely stopped a sneeze. Ugh. Super-fine particulates, the kind that are supposed to be so good for you. Blagh. She counted heads, and noticed that Davoud had worked his way in with the Scouts. Sgt. Gulibi made a “question” hand-sign at her, and she answered “disregard.” He got the hint and the Scouts pretended that this had been part of the plan all along. They probably knew at least part of the story—it was as old as male, female, and warfare and exploration.
All went well until the first of the containers appeared. Many of those in the crowd that Rada could see began shifting from pale green to dark grey, then black, and a sound like a keening, whistling cry began. It hit Rada, cutting knife-like into her soul, and she reinforced her shields as much as she could. The sound affected the nineteen survivors as well, and those waiting for them, and they joined in the keen. Rada wanted to clamp her hands over her ears, to flee to the ship. The sense of hope shattered and hearts broken needed no translation. Damn, I hate being an empath. Pure telepaths have it so easy. I really do want to go kill someone for causing this much pain. It didn’t matter who’d started it.
Most of the crowd followed the containers away from the ship and the survivors. Government officials divided, some going with the crowd, some urging the “lucky” families over to waiting vehicles, and three disappearing with Yori into a small office building to finish the confirmation of completion of the contract. Rada hoped they weren’t going to take their anger out on the Scouts. That never ended well for the other side.
As she turned to check on the Scouts and order them back away from the perimeter, Rada noticed a lone Rubyor standing and watching. Davoud had been talking with one of the other huminoid Scouts, and now he turned, hands jammed in jacket pockets, head down, and began walking toward the pedestrian departure gate. The Rubyor whistled, bouncing on its feet and waving one foreleg.
The human man looked over and froze. The Rubyor female also stopped moving, foreleg high, her feather-like tactile organs held mid-flutter. Davoud swallowed hard, and extended one hand. “You,” he licked his lips and whistled a complicated sequence of notes. The female made a sweeping gesture and responded with the same sequence, but in reverse. “Yes.” He moved forward one hesitant step, then another, and a third. She surged through the gate toward him, color shifting from greenish-grey to a warm peach-pink that radiated welcome and love. She swept him into an enfolding embrace, as a human would, and Rada turned away, dragging Lt. Ordo with her.
“Come on,” Rada hissed.
“Don’t we need to get a signature—”
“No.”
The Scouts who had seen the reunion starting all turned their backs, giving the pair privacy. In fact, once Rada saw Yori emerging from the conference room, she waved the soldiers toward her. They gave the couple plenty of room, eyes and visual organs turned away from the scene.
Yori raised one eyebrow, asking Rada a question. She coughed, clearing her throat of the lump that had suddenly developed. “Dav
oud was wrong.”
“Huh?”
“She waited.”
He blinked at Rada, then looked past her at the pair. Rada turned her head in time to see male and female walking slowly away, her color now a deeper pink, his hand held by her tactile feathers, both of them quietly whistling and humming. “Let’s go,” Yori ordered. He turned and Rada and the other Scouts fell in behind him.
No one spoke until they were well outside the atmosphere.
Winter’s Wonders, Major’s Woes
No matter the species, certain physical gestures conveyed the same emotion, in this case a blend of resignation and dread, enhanced by a sense of woeful familiarity with the general outline of the thus far untold tale. Senior Major Ahriman Gupta rested one broad forefoot over his left eye, exhaled loudly, and asked, “How did it start?”
Major Soliman Szilliar stuck the tip of his forked tongue out and said, “Sir, it started when Capt. Ni Drako and Capt. dar Ohrkan went on leave at the same time.”
“They went together?” Gupta’s voice rose an octave, from a bass rumble to a near baritone bellow.
“No, sir, not together, just simultaneously. Along with a few other Scouts and three troopers from the sappers.”
“Scouts and sappers on the loose, at the same time.” Gupta inhaled and exhaled once more, rubbing the broad horn on his flat grey nose. “Is the planet still intact? And will insurance cover it?” Probably not, he knew. Lloyds Interstellar didn’t write general policies for mercenary companies, just mission and contract specific policies, because of creatures like Ni Drako and dar Ohrkan.
Szilliar blinked. “Well, sir, not only is it intact, but the Merchants’ Guild and the municipal government have offered official commendations and votes of gratitude for the troopers’ conduct. Um, well, it seems they disrupted an attack by Hourami separatists that would have . . . ah, sir, I think you should see the files and read the report for yourself. And they didn’t even break anything particularly expensive this time, sir,” the reptile reported, wonder filling his voice.
Gupta located the files, sorted them into time order, and hit “play.”
* * *
You know, Rada thought, swishing her tail in frustration, there has to be an easier way to buy one of these. A faster way, but not here, not today. Alas for her patience, there was not a faster way to negotiate the purchase of new harp strings. The instrument specialist, a reptilian who reminded Rada very much of one of those super-slow armored Palgolians, could not be rushed. And whoever had designated him (or her?) the booth salesbeing in a cold climate ought to be shot. Although the pain from lost sales would probably hurt worse. The creature, its hands wrapped in electrically-heated mitts, separated the metal strings with dreadful slowness. I’m glad I only need three this time. Rada had discovered the hard way that frustration and wire harp strings led to broken strings. Lots and lots of broken strings over the years since she’d acquired the instrument. Although not quite as many once I discovered you play with the nail and not the finger pad. You bleed less, too.
At last, the sales being tied the seal onto the tape, showing that Rada had paid for the item, and slowly pushed the bundle across the counter and through the mild repulsor field set up to discourage the light-fingered. “Thank . . . you. . . Have . . .a . . . lovely . . . Mid-. . .winter . . .feast.”
“You are most welcome,” Rada enunciated with care. The local dialect of Trader had some interesting quirks of pronunciation, as Yori dar Ohrkan had discovered two local weeks before. Only Yori could start a fight by asking for directions to a temple, Rada sighed. Although it had not been his fault for once, wonder of wonders. Rada swished her tail again, tucked the new strings deep into an inside jacket pocket and strolled off, following her nose to a stand selling stuff-on-a-stick. It looked and smelled meatish, so she bought one. Yup, meat, or a close enough facsimile that it didn’t make her sick. She strolled and gnawed, ignoring one or two of her fellow Scouts. They ignored her as well, intent on their own pleasure or purchases.
She wanted to look for ribbons and trimmings, and to see if a knife-maker had a stall. Some of the wood carvings and beaded jewelry caught her eye, until she remembered the incident with Corporal K’leeshi and the courting necklace. Col. Adamski almost had to perform a mating ceremony, and the corporal did have to pay a considerable sum for breach-of-promise. All over a red necklace with three blue beads, Rada shook her head a little as she deposited the now-empty stick in the proper bin. Another reason to avoid shiny things of unknown provenance.
She sighed and her breath steamed out in a long plume. The planet’s sun hung very far to the north, marking the day before Midwinter, and the pale, low light provided no heat to speak of. Her winter pelt and heavy socks helped, and a scarf kept the thin, biting wind away from her bare skin. That left her nose, which felt rather red and tingly. She ignored it for the moment, intent on weaving her way around a large, warmly-dressed group of locals also making their way through the festival fair. The organizers had insisted on re-creating a semi-mythical trade gathering from one of the culture’s early epic tales. It felt a bit like the great Trade Marts and Meets Rada had visited a century or so before, in a primitive, quaint sort of way. But the thick crowds showed how much the natives liked it, and no one refused to take Rada’s coin.
Rada stopped at one booth, looked at the little sign and moved on. She didn’t want to commission a custom piece, but to buy pre-made ribbons and trim. Her business partner, Zabet, had a True-dragons’ hoarding habit in spades. Luckily, she hoarded trims, ribbons, and notions, all small, light, and rather more portable than some collections Rada had heard about. Who was it that collected stone statuary? Oh, yes, one of Yori’s distant cousins, the one who luckily happened to work for a quarrying company. Rada drifted along with the cheerful crowd, looking at a few things but not stopping for long. No space in her quarters, no space on the transport ships, too much sense to buy that, and she had undershirts that sported more material than the barely-there gauzy skirt-like garments on sale at one little shop. On the other hand, if she were trying to solicit attention of a certain sort . . . Nah. Freezing to death while waiting for a client was not the way to fortune, although you might have a brief moment of fame as the bad-example-of-the-week.
Two stalls down, Rada finally found her target. The place specialized in beads and cut stones for jewelry making, but it did have a rainbow of embroidered and beaded ribbons and bands of cloth intended to be sewn onto other things. Rada loitered, eyeing a few items, listened to the male on sales duty discuss something with another customer, and then approached. “Good day, gentle being,” she said. “I would like to look at the beaded ribbon on rack number four.”
“Racknumberfour? Icandothat. Cash or credit and is it for day or evening?” Rada’s ears smoked from trying to catch his words as they tumbled past her. He turned, unlocked the case, and turned back around with four spools that he set out on a black cloth. Rada tried to remember what Zabet didn’t have, and gave up. Zabet probably could not remember what she did or did not have, so why should Rada bother? “The spools on the end, please, and cash.” Rada decided, speaking at her normal tempo.
The salesman gave her an odd, sideways look as he accepted her cash and counted out the local coin. “You have no accent,” he observed. His red and purple faceted eyes opened wider, then expanded sideways. “You a Trader-born?”
Oh chit. “No, but I learned Trader Talk from a Wanderer.” True but not exactly honest, Rada knew.
The male made a noncommittal noise. “My boss has a problem with Traders. But you say you’re no Trader?”
“No, gentle sir. My mentor had a falling out with them, went his own way. I do not care much for them myself.” And Master Thomas did have a bone to pick with the Trader tarqina, several centuries’ worth of bones if the truth be told.
“Good. Mark ye this, they’re nothing good.” He slid the two spools into a protective bag, spun it closed, and sealed the neck. “Short darkness to you.�
�
“And bright, swift dawn to you,” Rada said. She stepped sideways, out of the next customer’s way, and hid the parcel in with her other purchase. The bulge was not too noticeable, and it matched the less harmless bulge on the other side of her jacket.
She needed a drink. Before she could go looking, she sensed someone too close beside her and twisted, barely dodging a shove. “Excuse me!”
“No excuse for your kind,” a red-tabby Feltara yipped. She poked an extended claw at Rada’s chest. “Out of the way, tangle fur.”
Rada replied in Feltari, “I am in no one’s way, oh proud originator of the galaxy’s largest hairball. May your kittens all be puppies.” A large knot of broad-shouldered locals pushed past and Rada ducked behind them, using the group as cover to escape before the tabby came after her. Red tabbies had terrible tempers, for all their skills with numbers and languages. Rada eased between booths, slipped along with another group, and found a bar in the process. At least, it looked like a bar.
Rada poked her nose inside, then followed with the rest of her when she saw the taps.
“You got ID?”
Rada showed the large individual behind the bar her identity card. “That works. What can I get you?”
“Keritang. Tap, please.”
A snifter of the high-protein intoxicant appeared. Rada pushed her coins across the bar, with a little extra. Her fingers tingled as they brushed a low-setting forceshield. She approved of the precaution. A paw-like forefoot swept the coins away, then gently pushed the snifter to Rada, careful not to shake it.
Rada picked up the bowl-like glass and cradled it in both hands. She inhaled with great care, baring her teeth and opening access to her palate as the first tendrils of scent reached her sensitive nose. Rada savored the bouquet, then lightly swirled the snifter, releasing more of the scent and flavor. After another long inhalation, she sipped. “Aaaahhh.” The keritang hit her stomach, bounced, ricocheted off the inside of her skull, and a delicious warmth filled Rada down to her toe-claws and the tip of her tail.
