by Scott Rhine
Kesh grunted approval. “Max appreciates simplicity and durability. You want to go with Earth tones, something peaceful. A wall with tree greens. Perhaps a Zen stone fountain. No, something silent. Furnishings should be rugged, with plenty of places to hide weapons or information cubes. I’d recommend a fingerprint safe somewhere near his head beside the bed—firm and king-size, with a way to flip it on its side easily as a barrier against gunfire.”
Roz stared at the Saurian accountant. “You’ve put a lot of thought into this.”
“Nonsense. Just thinking out loud. I do this sort of analysis with every project.”
“Then why are you here instead of working with Reuben and Ivy on the cargo plan?”
Kesh gestured broadly with his hands. “One selects cargo like a stock portfolio. Think of a pyramid with the safest and most stable commodity on bottom. Those two can handle the core investments with references to the infobase and my oversight. I reserve my expertise for the top 10 percent of the risky, custom, high-value cargo.”
“The ones you won’t find online, or everyone would be doing it,” she guessed. “What are you thinking about buying in Flowers?”
“First, we won’t convert all our power gems immediately. We can use the replacement parts, and there’s always someone desperate enough to trade something useful for them if we wait. I also allocate a small percentage of the hold for mail. It buys goodwill with the locals. Then I look at differentials. Flowers is a decent tech world only because it’s a border planet. The next stop, Butterfly, is a low-tech fringe world. They’ll want reliable weapons, steel, tools, but the government is afraid. They’ll permit a small number of composite crossbows, but they won’t allow the import of explosives. We could try to subvert that limitation by choosing fertilizer, salt, or fish oil for the Butterfly-ians … ovians … whatevers to make the explosives themselves. They need them to lay rails, build roads, or clear farmland. However, I would need to locate a buyer who knows how to do the conversion.”
“Chemical engineers on the frontier,” Roz said. “Is this why you and Reuben were researching explosives in the ship’s library?”
Kesh had a guilty expression. “Not much gets by you.”
“I run a tight ship. I flagged certain references to make sure no one would ruin all my hard work.”
“The diplomatic packages Aviar sent with us are rigged with self-destruct charges.”
Eyes wide, Roz said, “Space them!”
“Relax,” he replied, placing a scaly hand on her shoulder to put her back into the pilot’s chair. “When the package picks up the proper signal from the navigation beacon in the target system, the charge deactivates. Inside are envelopes link-addressed to the recipient and our contacts. The first one is a real winner, Chazno. He’s a drug dealer who cuts out the eyes of people who offend him and feeds them to his dogs.”
“Ick.”
“That’s why Max has requested you stay aboard our ship when we dock at the refuel station.”
Roz frowned. “He doesn’t think I can handle myself? I can lift a Bat Deke’s size with one arm.”
“You’re too valuable to risk in an exchange like this.”
“Sweet but rather silly when I’m the one carrying the bombs.”
“Max insisted we bury the packages in the sand of my desert biome to keep them as far from the hull and you as possible.”
“Always thinking about me but never discussing things with me. We’re going to have to fix that. Be sure to max us out on fuel before the delivery, in case we have to run again.” Roz moved on to the next worry on her long list. “So why was Reuben researching religious rebellions?”
Kesh raised a single claw. “Non-violent popular uprisings of oppressed peoples. He wanted a selection of Human songs to set the mood for our music sales. We want to attract our target demographic and create a grassroots marketing swell.”
“This, I’ve got to hear.”
“I wouldn’t recommend it,” Kesh said with a sour face. “That noise frilling hurts my ears. We’ll try out our most likely candidates on the folk of Flowers. We’ll take a hundred kilos of data fobs to each stop on our tour to minimize risk and keep prices high. They’re so small and durable we can disguise them as packing foam to smuggle past customs. We’ll start selling the fobs at 50 credits a piece.”
“But we practically picked them up for free because the tourism board wanted people to visit Prairie.”
“And?”
“Do you know how many fobs you can fit in a hundred kilos? They’re like two grams each. That’s fifty thousand cheese wheels, earning us a profit of—over two million credits.”
Kesh swished his tail in amusement. “Times ten stops, which comes to twenty-two million. That’s the beauty of supply and demand.”
She bowed onto one knee. “You are the cargo king.”
As a result of her bonding time with the nominal captain of the ship, he officially named her first mate on the ship’s paperwork. “You’re the one running this place anyway. In my absence, you have complete authority aboard the vessel.”
This gave her a glow of accomplishment until she wondered why. Was Kesh worried he might not return from the underworld meeting?
Chapter 21 – It’s Raining Shoes
Before Roz left Sphere of Influence, she locked the mantle of the Enigma in Echo’s personal safe. Kesh and Reuben were selling cheese fobs like they were going out of style. He was considering raising the price.
The spaceport of Little Flowers was awash with every size and color of Bat she could imagine. Deke seemed to favor the fox-colored ladies. With the restoration of his knight status, they seemed to be appreciating him right back.
Max’s only warning was for Roz to steer clear of the priests in red robes. “Up close, they have the ability to see genetic anomalies.”
“Some sort of purity police?” she asked.
“We use the talent to keep our children disease-free, but they might be able to detect your unusual abilities,” Deke replied. “Be safe,”
Later, as Roz wandered the narrow maze of streets in the marketplace, Roz felt eyes on her, like she was being followed. Ridiculous, she told herself. You’re just overreacting to Ivy’s presence. The family outing had turned into a girls’ day out, with all the women on the ship traveling in a pack. Roz tried several times to send Ivy across the street for a coffee or to the other side of the store for a shoehorn, with no success. The spy was stuck to her like wheat on bread. Ivy also held firmly to the ditzy secretary cover, pretending to misunderstand blatant requests from Roz to piss off. The longer the farce continued, the more irritated Roz became.
Perhaps Roz was merely embarrassed by the new clingy pants Alyssa bought for her at the Moonlight Lust boutique while the rest of them were delivering a consignment of fashion clothes and furs. Roz had only agreed because the smart-pants came with an instruction manual to change the pattern on the surface. It turned out that black was the most conservative choice. “Maybe I should take these back.”
Alyssa said, “Nonsense. Kesh was right. They flatter you.”
Ivy and the salespeople at the latest boutique all nodded. The regal Alyssa created such a stir in stores that the owners usually came out to assist her personally.
“I feel naked,” Roz whispered, pulling out the tails of her uniform shirt to hang as low as possible. “At least let me buy something practical to cover up with.”
Ivy came over with dark-gray, knee-high boots. “Way ahead of you.”
Roz would have objected, but they suited her perfectly. They reached her knees and included holsters where she could keep tools. Once they were on her, the soft insides hugged her so well she didn’t want to take them off. “Oh, yes.” She flexed the ankles experimentally. The soles could be retrofitted with ship magnets.
By the time she noticed the price tag, Alyssa had already run her credit stick.
“You can’t afford this much,” Roz said.
“Please,” Alyssa said like
a duchess on a yacht. “I put a little aside for retirement, and Kesh is managing our milk money quite well. I’m thinking of having him manage all my money.”
How can I politely discourage giving her savings to an embezzler?
A shop girl came up with an emerald-green blouse with a bold plus cut in the bodice. “Here’s the top you asked about, ma’am.”
Roz’s eyes bugged. “Oh, no.”
“I told you she was too much of a prude,” Ivy said with a sneer.
“Am not. That just leaves very little to the imagination.”
Ivy chuckled. “I don’t know. Max seemed to imagine a few things when he watched the Bat woman wearing this same top.”
“Really?” Alyssa said. “Then you must wear it for him.”
Roz felt an odd flutter. Should she really encourage Max to stare at her?
The shop owner confided, “If the gentleman’s voice doesn’t drop an octave when he sees you in this, I promise to refund your money.”
Roz didn’t remember agreeing to try it on. The store was a haze of tea, jasmine perfume, and compliments until she was carrying an armload of shopping bags out of the store and onto the crowded, public plaza. Self-conscious, she hugged the large bags to her front and behind like a fan dancer. What the hell did I just do?
As they shuffled down the street, several unemployed male Bats offered to carry her bags for her. Roz refused with a squeak of panic in her voice. She needed armor to hide behind. Outside a navy surplus store, a line of destitute men waited for the store’s lunch break to be over. Roz spotted a fireproof, military-grade, engine-room coat on one of the derelict Bats—radiation and blaster resistant armor. Though she was taller than its owner, the long coat would still reach her knees to obscure her recent purchases. If she bought the personal armor from the veteran, the price would be much lower, she wouldn’t need to wait an hour, and the money would go to a better cause. She approached the Bat slumped against the wall in a daze. “How much for the coat?”
Her translator AI named a value less than a fifth what the garb was worth. She agreed and added a generous tip. The coat smelled a little, but she felt safe when it wrapped around her.
“Bad-ass accessory,” Ivy said. “Now you just need a hip holster and a pistol.”
Roz pretended to ignore the gratifying comment. As she passed the veteran a handful of local bills, she asked, “Were you an engineer?”
Showing pride for the first time, the man parting with his coat said, “Yes, ma’am. Assistant chief engineer on a destroyer class vessel.”
“How would you like to earn more money carrying my bags until we return to my ship? There might be a meal in it for you, too.”
At the mention of the word “meal,” the Bat engineer hopped to his feet. “Iirkurdy.”
Roz smile, shook his hand, and tried not to mangle the vowels too much as she repeated the name. Another man at the end of the line stood up. “I am, Yenang, a plasma technician.” That was code for weapons repairman. “I will work for the meal alone.”
Nodding her head to Alyssa, Roz said, “Take her bags.”
Shifting the conversation to Spanish, Alyssa said, “This is a bad idea.”
Roz overrode her concerns. “We were once this poor. Have compassion. God honors those who give alms. Besides, Butterfly is starving for engineers, but these men can’t afford passenger tickets to get there.”
Grudgingly, Alyssa allowed the charity to continue. “Perhaps … we could transport those who are willing and take a cut of the first year’s salary from the employer.”
“We’d need rigorous background checks before signing. These men could lead us to lots of valuable specialists.”
Alyssa shook her head. “The ship can’t hold many more people in the two staterooms.”
“We could transport up to eight Bats in the cargo stasis units. Kesh can figure out how to make the scheme pay.”
The next stop was a furniture store, where Roz picked the sturdiest bedroom set she could find, plus biometrically sealed metal file cabinets for nightstands. Alyssa chose the sheets, while Ivy bounced on mattresses until she found the best one.
****
When the ladies passed a bank, Ivy said, “That reminds me. I promised to register a legal document.” She puzzled Roz when she put a clear mask over her features. Ivy ducked inside alone, but the others could see her in the lobby through the windows.
Roz asked, “Is she robbing the place?”
The Bats seemed to perk up at this comment, so Alyssa answered in Spanish to avoid eavesdroppers. “Ivy needs to obscure her facial features so the bank cameras don’t have a record of her visit.”
“When she enters her ident codes, someone will suspect,” Roz countered.
“Echo gave her Magi codes. See? She’s standing at the concierge service desk for alien dignitaries.” This usually meant a large financial transaction.
“I know Echo can’t leave the room with the medical chamber, but why didn’t she entrust me with the task?” Roz asked, unable to keep the hurt out of her voice.
“Maybe it was last minute. Ivy is the only one Echo can appear to out-of-body.”
The teller printed and stamped a paper receipt for the transaction.
Roz blocked Ivy’s path outside. “If this is company business, I have a right to know.”
“It was supposed to be a surprise, but since you don’t trust me.” Ivy handed Roz the mystery document. “You’re now officially the heir to Sphere of Influence.”
“Thank you,” Roz said, more stunned than grateful. This is real.
Four stores later, they stopped at a Human restaurant, and Roz paid for all-you-can-eat buffet for both Bat Sherpas. Iirkurdy balked at first. The translator AI was crude as it converted his question. “Why are you so nice us?”
Roz paused for a moment. “Our—my boyfriend is a soldier like you who was also discarded by the war.”
“You are urwatchi?” Iirkurdy asked in dismay.
Ivy covered her snicker with a hand. “He means ceremonially unclean, in this case an alien sleeping in the same bed as a Bat. The purity police are pretty strict. Viruses like chicken pox or other Herpes can jump the species barrier.”
Again, I get blamed for her behavior. “I’ve never—” Roz remembered sharing quarters with Echo for a prolonged period. “Well, I’ve never slept with a Bat, just … you know. And that was spiritual—stop smirking at me. You’re just as guilty as I am. I’m glad I never used your toothbrush by mistake.”
The puzzled Bat asked Alyssa, “These two share private space?”
Unaware of the context, the older woman replied, “Frequently over the last year or so, which is why Ivy helped pick the new furniture.”
Iirkurdy turned to the other Bat and began to explain what Ivy testing the mattress had really meant.
Aghast, Roz whispered to Ivy, “Now look what you’ve done. They think we’re lesbians.”
Glancing at the short hair, the men’s jacket, and the wrench in Roz’s new boot holster, Ivy said, “I can’t imagine where they got that idea.” When Roz opened her mouth to object, Ivy planted a kiss on her in order to scandalize her audience. “Don’t be such a prude. You’re shacking up with a Magi, for pity’s sake.”
****
As they finished their meal, a runner stopped Roz at the exit. She recognized the teenager. “You delivered the furs to Moonlight Lust?”
Their profit margin on the deal hadn’t been the only obscene thing in the store. Roz coughed. “Yes. I helped lift the crates.”
“Owner wants more,” the runner explained in a jerky computer voice in her earbud. “All sold out. We pay twice previous price. Customers have stripped us bare.”
Ivy was busting a gut holding in the laughter.
Roz really hated her today. “We’ll call the ship and meet you at the Moonlight in a few minutes.”
“The quickest way back is to cut through the alley to the east,” the runner said, accepting a generous tip from Alyssa
.
She met with the others at their table and put Kesh on speaker. “Agree, but ask for a fuel surcharge. We’ll have to make a second trip down because they under-ordered.”
Alyssa chuckled at the gouging. “He is definitely managing my retirement fund.”
Turning off her translator, Roz mentioned her idea for recruiting ex-soldiers for export to Butterfly.
Max complained that the cargo stasis was never meant for sentient life.
Roz replied, “The same Magi device inhibits all organic and electrical activity inside the box. The only differences are the monitors, sterile environment, and another order of magnitude on the reliability. Medical grade is guaranteed for a century of use.” Turtles had access to the warm-blood suspended-animation technology, but both Bats and Humans were judged too immature. Each of the fledgling races had used their uplift gifts to hold people captive against their wills.
Eventually, Max agreed on a trial run of eight specialists, to be chosen by Kesh and vetted by Reuben. “Many of the soldiers have diseases, often caused by malnutrition. The government wants to prevent them from spreading.”
Frustrated during the long argument, Roz led her entourage through the designated alley, away from the hubbub of the market streets. By the dim light, she saw three Bats crouched behind dumpsters ahead, all with frayed military garb. The argument no longer seemed important. She told the others, “Run.”
Ivy spun and ran into the Bat blocking their escape with a machete. Rather than balk, Ivy attacked, disarming the Bat in seconds. One of the ambushers near the Moonlight loading dock shot her with a sonic weapon in response. Her friend collapsed on the filthy bricks, blood trickling from her lips. She didn’t look dead, but another shot at close range might end her. Due to size and armor, Roz was the only woman in the group who had a chance of surviving a point-blank blast from that weapon.
The Bat with the pistol said in perfect Banker, “I’m a poor, unemployed soldier. I have nothing to my name except this mark-seven scrambler. Now hand over your money.”
Iirkurdy couldn’t meet her eyes. Guess we know who set us up.
