by Yunker, Todd
The pair below provided the leg power; they held on to each other with their inside arm around their partner’s shoulder. The pair above held on to their partner’s shoulder with their inside arm, too, and wrapped their legs around the neck of the individual below them. The pair below used their free arms to hold on to the leg from above. Together, they must have weighed in at 187 kilos — at least — each. They started toward him. He knew he had to defuse the situation. “I haven’t run out on Kasdan. I’m going to complete a transaction that will provide me the funds to pay Kasdan in full.” Alec knew his only chance was to convince them that his word was good. “You can trust me.”
“Make a report to Kasdan. One time, we trust you. Then we come for your ship.” The two thugs ambled down the street.
“Wolfgang Gray must have a bounty on us. We’d better conclude business quickly. Rhetorically speaking, of course,” Alec said as he watched the thugs vanish into the crowd. “How did they know we were here so fast?”
Dancer looked at the girl as they got moving again. “Alec, her name is Electra.”
“What?”
Dancer turned to Electra. “What is your name?”
Alec smiled at the girl.
She smiled back at Alec, “Electra.”
He needed to find a way to make that happen more often; he felt much more toward her than he thought possible. “She can speak Standard,” stated Alec curiously.
“So far, that’s all she’s said. I don’t know how much she understands.” Dancer analyzed his partner’s physiological indicators and noted elevated central dopamine and a spike in central norepinephrine — Human Brain Chemistry 101.
Alec looked from Dancer to Electra, trying to fathom her understanding. “Well, Electra, you’re with us.” Electra nodded happily. Alec looked into her eyes, shaking his head a bit as he muttered, “You can trust me.”
The locals began crowding around — it wasn’t every day they saw a human, much less two in one place. The galaxy was a big place, and, wherever the bright center of civilization was, this place was far away, in the backwaters. The human community remained as best they could where the governments were strongest and their policies to protect refugees most favorable. Dancer was wary of the attention. “What are we hanging around here for?”
“Right, come on.”
“Where to first?”
“Convert the cargo to credits; then we’ll see about finding Electra’s people. I’m not going to let humanity go silently into the night without waking the rest of the galaxy.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
A chime of the communication panel interrupted Captain K’Dhoplon’s meditation. He looked at the red flame of the ceremonial urn; the moment was broken, his mind-state gone. His amphibian form had widened as he lay flat on the cool, tiled stone floor from his home world. Captain K’Dhoplon rose from his prone position and covered his naked form with a flowing, green robe. “Yes,” he said indignantly as he walked out to his reception room.
The screen filled with a communications officer who answered smartly, “Communication from home world, Captain. The Prime Minister.”
“Put him through.”
“Yes, sir.”
The screen changed the image to Prime Minister Ental. “Captain K’Dhoplon, your devotion to the Exalted One is impressive.”
“I live for the One.”
“Yes. I have news of the human Shackleton. We have made arrangements for additional intelligence resources. I am sending the data on a sub-channel.”
“I die for the One.”
“Captain, your efforts are commendable, but results are required — and soon. The Exalted One has limited time available for thought about this matter and would like the situation concluded.”
“I understand, Prime Minister.”
“For the One.”
“For the One.” Captain K’Dhoplon pulled his robe from his body as the screen went blank. He reentered the Room of Devotion in the manner prescribed and again lay on the floor before the sacred urn, chanting the holy words. The flame flared up and released a large belch of white smoke that rolled down from the stonework and across his body like an ocean wave. Awareness-altering narcotics filled his lungs, and his vision warped as foam formed at the corner of his mouth. He convulsed as his vision became his reality.
*
Wolfgang Gray exited his cabin — if one could call it that. It was the smallest compartment available in the area of the ship furthest away from the main bridge. It took a good 45 minutes for him to work his way up, out of the bowels of the ship. The crew’s hatred of humans was part of the gauntlet he had to manage daily. He had worked out five different paths to the bridge so far, and he employed them randomly in order to avoid the inevitable confrontations, which were mostly verbal, though they had recently been getting physical. He knew that, if he were to fight back, the whole crew would be fighting for the right to kill him and take his head, and he wasn’t ready for his head to be anyone’s wall trophy.
The lift held at the bridge level; the doors remained closed. Gray shook his head. “Captain K’Dhoplon, may I report to the bridge?” The doors remained closed. “Captain?” he said again, the doors finally opening.
Gray addressed the communications officer. “Any word on Shackleton?”
The officer sneered, “We received this message from home world.” He held out the datapad. Gray reached for it, and, just before he had a hold of it, the datapad dropped from the officer’s hand. “Sorry. Ah, but you are used to being at the bottom — aren’t you, human? You don’t deserve to live, human.”
Gray looked at the officer with malice. He bent over and took the datapad from the floor. He read it. “Put me in touch with this ‘Largo’ person mentioned in the communiqué.” The communications officer didn’t move. “Either put me in touch with Largo, or the next time your Exalted One asks me about our progress, I’ll have to relate your personal interference.” The communications officer managed the connection. The screen filled with Largo’s pug-like face.
“Are you Largo?” asked Gray.
“I am Largo.”
“Has the Koty Union purchased the debt of the human Shackleton?”
“Yes, I have been well compensated for my troubles,” replied Largo.
“Do you have agents in the field?” asked Gray.
“I have Skiptracers,” stated Largo.
“Since the Koty Union has purchased the contract from you, I would like your Skiptracers to report to me.”
“I will inform them that you are their client for this contract,” said Largo, bluntly.
“Acceptable. I want all the information they’ve sent you.” Gray stood back from the monitor, and the screen went blank.
*
The bridge of the Skiptracer’s ship was a collection of technologies that were never meant to be on the same ship. Gino was working on a fiber optic harness when the communication display chirped.
Worrell activated the screen. Wolfgang Gray looked out at them. “I am Doctor Gray. Have you received your new orders?”
“You new boss; ready we are for instructions.”
“Largo had you following Shackleton to recover a debt, correct?”
“Yes, we follow and report his location. Largo tells us what to do,” nodded Worrell.
“Good. I want you to keep following him and reporting back to me as you did for Largo. Understand?”
“Understand, yes,” replied Gino.
Gray’s face cracked a smile. “Where is Shackleton’s ship now?”
*
The Illia and the Saleen arrived at a small system. The battleships deployed ten troop carriers each that made for the third planet, Ferrar; their heat shields lit up, and the carriers descended quickly and burned through the sky to Port Gallardo. The carriers deployed their landing gear, cut their engines, and dropped heavily to the spaceport’s tarmac.
The war-hardened ground troops hit the ground running and secured a perimeter around their landin
g zone. Ground skimmers of commandos floated from the bowels of the carriers and pushed out to gain control of the nearby squat, gray warehouses. Additional Koty carriers carried heavy troop transports, and ground support staff burned through the sky and descended into the secured landing zone.
The Koty Union ground troop’s Lieutenant Ella signaled for the commando force to take charge of the spaceport’s administration buildings. A pre-fabricated headquarters was slid into a warehouse close to their ships. The headquarters went on-line as the lieutenant crossed the threshold.
Armored heavy troop transports were offloaded, and the first of the Koty Union security platoons were sent into the city to establish authority.
Wolfgang Gray disembarked from the latest Koty Union troop carrier to hit the planet. He waved a Sergeant over. “The intelligence from the Skiptracers was good. The Quest is here. Sergeant, I need some of your best breaching specialists to come with me.”
The Sergeant was about to blast the human when Lieutenant Ella barked at him, “Is this what you call following orders, Sergeant? He said he needed Koty to complete the mission. What more do you need, Sergeant?” The Koty turned and double-timed it away.
“Lieutenant, just doing my part in this mini-invasion of yours. I could use troops to secure our prize right about now.” Gray didn’t look away as the lieutenant contemplated his options.
“Of course, human — I will get you the breaching specialists you need. This mission will be the easiest part of this raid.” Lieutenant Ella walked away slowly, talking into a communications system embedded into his body armor.
A moment later, a detachment of commandos filed into armored skimmers. Gray hopped into the lead craft. Lieutenant Ella nodded to the driver, and the convoy left headquarters behind. The skimmers crossed a couple hundred meters of open field and passed two rows of parked starships. Their speed dropped quickly at the edge of the tarmac, and then they headed a little north before stopping outside the Quest. The breaching specialists disembarked and deployed in a tactical fashion, encircling the ship.
“Sergeant, this ship’s owner will have alarms and countermeasures that will be a problem for what we are looking for,” explained Gray.
“My specialists will have you in shortly; this is child’s play.” The Sergeant signaled his troops, and they deployed sensing equipment and jammed all signals in or out of the Quest.
Gray had plenty of time to walk the perimeter of the Quest. Explosions from a building in the distance did not faze the breaching specialists trying to break into the ship. Time went by slowly.
The specialists took turns using energy weapons on the exterior systems, blackening the metallic hull and burning some external systems to slag. The breaching specialists finally cracked Quest’s security, and the doorway opened. The specialists ran inside.
“Easy, then?” asked Gray, examining the access panel.
A specialist sounded very impressed as he answered. “No, I have never seen such a system on such a small ship. This is capital-ship quality and sophistication.” The specialist patted the panel he’d been working on.
“But you opened it.”
“The ship’s A.I. sensed us as soon as we arrived. The only reason it has given in is that it has been trying to contact its owner, and our jamming has made that impossible. I gave it an option: Open or face total destruction. We fired on the ship, damaging systems until it gave in to us.”
Gray looked impressed as he glanced at the Quest. “I want a full scan and search of the interior compartments. What we want will be well hidden.”
“It will be found — we have a lot of experience in contraband recovery,” said the specialist.
Wolfgang entered the ship. Koty troops, having secured the ship, were now making way for other specialists to join them. The search for the inscription piece in full swing, Gray walked through the ship, avoiding the items that had been thrown to the deck. They were not the prize the Koty were looking for. Gray looked in at a mess, where the bulkhead near the pilot’s chair had been searched with plasma cutters. Glassified cylinders ripped from walls were strewn all around the deck in pieces. There had to be many hundreds still packed into the bulkheads and a hundred broken on the floor. Wolfgang picked one up and read the etched name — Arthur Clarke. The cremated remains were extremely compressed, mixed with silica, chromium, tin oxide, and arsenic; add some heat to yield a small emerald green cylinder about three centimeters across and eight long for transport. These were the last mortal remains to be buried in the soil safe for humanity.
Gray knew about the mission Shackleton was on. Everyone did. Shackleton had promised to find humanity’s new home world. It would be safe for humans again to live and raise their families and grow old. For those who would die before it was found, their remains would enjoy a burial service on that world once it was. You just had to have your mortal remains reduced to one of these cylinders and have it sent to Shackleton.
It was his father’s folly, until he was killed himself. Now his son had taken up the cause and made the same offer. If you died, you could have your remains buried on the legendary world of a mythical human tribe.
It was preposterous to think that such a civilization had ever been on Earth. The historical record was an open book. No roads, cities, or technology had ever been found of an ancient civilization. If a lost tribe had migrated to the stars, how could they leave absolutely nothing behind to tell of their achievements?
“Human, we have found it. Follow me,” came the bellowed order from the Koty specialist.
Gray said grimly, “I’m on my way.” He put down Arthur’s cylinder on a countertop and followed the Koty.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The two humans and the android made their way through the bustle of a spaceport. At a crossroads, the street opened into the grand bazaar. The three were enveloped by a kaleidoscope of sights, sounds, and smells of exotic foods and spices. They were strolling down the first block of merchant stalls when Electra noticed a peculiar smell from an alley ahead of them on the right.
They saw alien traders enter the alley, the air crammed with noises quite different from the normal hustle and bustle of the bazaar. It wasn’t the calls and chatter of animals in cages. It was the wails of suffering and despair from intelligent beings. Electra closed the distance between herself and Alec, and she saw that his expression was more serious than she’d witnessed before. His face spoke volumes to her. “Stay close to Dancer. Understand?” Electra nodded, and Dancer drew her closer.
A slave trafficker coming from the other direction arrived at the alley just as they did and flicked a switch. A number of the slaves who were following the trafficker cried out, reeling from the pain anklets. They grabbed and pulled at the devices until the pain stopped.
Alec stopped where the end of the alley intersected with the street. He stood to assess what he saw. Slave Alley was filled with all shapes and sizes of aliens wearing slave anklets. A particularly foul-looking slave trafficker, a bug-eyed, oversized, hairless rodent, came from his booth. Its bodyguards, who looked like great orange beavers and were a good 20 centimeters taller than Alec, kept an eye on their boss. He sidestepped Alec and Dancer to examine Electra.
Nader squeaked with joy, “We have seen this one before. Dolk has this female entertaining at Temple Coffee Shop. I will take what is mine, human.” He signaled to his bodyguards. “Bring some anklets for the female.” One grabbed a set from behind a belt slung from its shoulder to its hip.
Electra’s face seethed with rebellion, but her body remained still. The slave trafficker was about to prod her with an appendage when Alec grabbed Nader and spun him around so they were nose to snout, pulling a pouch until its leather tie snapped from Nader’s neck. Alec slowly poured out its contents. The golden grain was blown about by the wind.
“She is no property of yours,” Alec said coldly, as he took the trafficker’s shoulders in hand and spun him around. When his backside presented itself, Alec kicked it, knocking him
sprawling to the ground.
The trafficker screamed, “We will kill you for your disrespect! You have dishonored us.”
The trafficker’s bodyguards approached Alec slowly, pulling projectile weapons from shoulder holsters. Alec removed the wrist bracer from his forearm; it closed upon itself, making a solid ring and telescoping instantly into a two-meter staff. The bodyguards faltered for a moment, arms outstretched and weapons pointed at him. As Alec spun his body and staff, it became an extension of his being. Alec stopped the staff’s spin, with the end thudding into the ground, and, then, he used it in an overhead arc to crack bone that was encircling a gun handle pointed at Dancer and Electra. “No, you don’t,” said Alec. The first bodyguard dropped his weapon, its paw smashed; it wailed, its pain and rage echoing from the walls of the buildings.
Alec missed the paw of the second bodyguard as it crashed into his skull, propelling him toward one of the buildings. His knuckles were smashed between the staff and the concrete. The staff flew from his hands into the crowd of spectators. Dancer managed to grab him before his face met the concrete wall. The second guard roared as Dancer held Alec up. Dancer scanned his friend, looking for brain damage. “Are you alright?” Alec nodded his head a bit. “I’ll make it.” He stood on his own.
A group of spectators fought over Alec’s staff, and Electra threw herself into the scuffle. She threw a roundhouse kick, clipping the biped in the side of its head. The staff dropped to the ground. Electra dove for the staff amongst the crowd groping for the weapon. The staff became a smudge of color as bodies flew before the expert wielding it. Electra stepped over four unconscious forms and offered Alec his staff back. He took it — and her hand — firmly. “Thank you.”
The beavers stood at full height. “I have no argument with you,” said Alec to the beavers. “I will leave with only what I came with.”
Alec knelt beside the trafficker. “You try to claim my kind as a slave again, and I will see to it that you join the gods then and there.” He moved closer to the creature’s ear. “Count on it.”
