by Scott Rhine
They chatted idly over the soup, the squab, and the dessert. Max refused the after-dinner alcohol, but when he stood to leave, his back was too stiff to unbend. He resembled a girl searching the floor for a lost earring.
“A drink will help dull the pain,” the captain insisted.
“Sorry. Until I complete my mission, I won’t take anything that impairs my reactions.”
The captain touched his ear, as if receiving a call. “Perhaps. My astrogator has other talents, massage among them. She has offered to realign your spine so you can heal.”
Sounds like a geisha. “I couldn’t impose.” Max used the wall to help climb erect again. The pain almost brought him to his knees.
“You are a guest of Parro Sageworthy. It is nothing.”
“Maybe just this once.”
Zrulkesh grinned at the concession. “Minder, grant our guest access to the nav chamber. Mr. Culp, take this elevator to the lowest floor. I’d go with you, but she’s very shy. Do not look at her. She asks that you remove your shirt and jacket, lie facedown on the table, and wait. Remember, no matter how pleasant the experience, no touching the merchandise.”
Max took painful, shuffling steps into the elevator. The nav room turned out to be on its own level near the core of the ship. When the doors opened again, the walls of the spherical heart chamber were mirrored, and the magnitude of the reflected light was nearly overwhelming. As he backed away from the wall, his image grew until halfway to the center when he vanished from the curved mirror. He smiled at his lack of reflection. I guess I am a vampire after all.
Here in the dead optical zone, a cushioned cot had been prepared. Soothing harp music played overhead in contrast to ominous warnings in his head. This could be a trick to kill me.
If so, he would let them win. He was tired. Max took off his shirt and crawled onto the cot as requested. Part of him dreaded what might come next, like a spinal tap. Instead, after hearing a faint rustle of fabric, he felt a warm touch. Following a caress, someone feathered heated oils onto his skin, lingering at the round scar in his back. Then his muscles groaned as the astrogator worked out the tension.
By the end, he was limp and the pain was gone. He drifted off to sleep on the table.
****
When Max woke, he was alone and his trousers were missing. The cube! Frantically, he searched the room, but his holo vault was nowhere to be found. In his underwear, Max rode the elevator tube to the cargo complex. It was breakfast time and both Goats were chatting with the copilot.
Reuben stopped and raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you the hypocrite? I can’t go near a ewe, and the first female you meet, bam! She’s not even the same species.”
“She is very versatile, I hear,” the Saurian copilot said.
Max grabbed the Jubalasch by his neck frills. He knew how to inflict considerable pain with one twist. “Where are my belongings?”
The copilot trembled. “In your room. The astrogator noticed blood on your things. As this offends Magi, she sent them to be cleaned. My captain was gracious enough to do so.”
Releasing the ship’s officer, Max said, “Why didn’t she say something to me?”
Jubalasch grinned nervously. “She has been trained not to speak unless spoken to. After her service, she returns to her stasis unit. The energy is expensive, but she prefers it to paying for air, food, and water when we have no tasks for her to perform.”
They made her pay to stay alive?
People were staring, waiting to see if there would be a fight. “Forgive my accusation. Is there anything small I can do to make amends?”
Jubalasch licked his lips. “Your companion says you are a skilled doctor from Anodyne.”
Max glared at Reuben. “Yes.”
“You have had the life-extension treatments then?”
“No.”
“Why not? Only a fool would reject them.”
Or someone unworthy. “Your insult has been repaid with insult. Good day,” Max said, returning to his room.
His clothes and the contents of his pockets were laid out neatly on his cot. He dressed in a jumpsuit and probed his room for a safe hiding place. Unfortunately the heating and electrical access panels were affixed with screws that needed a six-sided screwdriver. Talk about obsessing over three.
Eventually, he found an adequate place in the garden to bury his cube.
He strolled up to Reuben a few minutes later, surprising his apprentice. “Gack! Boss, don’t do that! Make a little noise. No wonder the crew is afraid of you.”
“Afraid?”
“You appear out of nowhere, and nothing scares you.”
An image of a smoking pit flashed in Max’s mind. Apples. He shook his head to clear the memory. “A lot of things frighten me.”
Max led him on the morning “run” around the outer ring. In microgravity, however, their arms received more of a workout. In English, he asked, “How long would it take for them to crack my holo safe?”
“A year or two if they dedicated the ship’s computers and shut down all other functions.”
His heart rate lowered slightly as he established a rhythm to swimming through the air. “What did you find out at last night’s card game?”
“They gamble with shares of the load. Each chip represents a tiny fraction of a percent.” Reuben looked his boss over. “Are you okay?”
“Best night of sleep I’ve had in forever.”
“But?”
“I think it was a trick to get information. I’m not falling for it.” Max rolled over and propelled himself the opposite direction down the hall, just like a turn in the water. “The workers aren’t the same warrior lineage as our captain. They came from a different clan.”
“Blue Claw.”
Max nodded. “Unskilled industrial laborers, masons, road builders, scrap recyclers, and miners. Lots of arm muscle and not too much brain power. Looking for an easy score.”
Sweat poured from Reuben, clumping his fur. “This is payback for that crack about you and the masseuse, isn’t it?”
“You’re learning. Once they stop watching us, you get a sample from one of the containers.”
“What if I get caught?”
“Tell them you were trying to sneak into the desert biome to steal some of the captain’s pine nuts.”
“Oh, those are tasty.” Reuben seemed to be considering just that mission.
“I’ll pick a few tomatoes from the garden and fry them for lunch,” Max offered in Banker. “It’s not much, but it will give us a break from that hack they call a cook.”
“This trip feels more and more like a stint in prison. I’m already marking off days.”
That afternoon the Goat tried some cooking experiments of his own. The pancakes were a decided failure. Not only did the questionable batter burn to the pan, but safety bots swarmed the smoke-filled kitchen, covering him in foam. Reuben was banned from touching the stove ever again.
Chapter 8 – Discipline
The crew continued to observe Reuben’s workouts for the first week in subspace. He rarely wheezed or begged for mercy anymore. Max steered him toward monkey fist, a form suited for small, unpredictable opponents fighting larger ones. He emphasized dance and tumbling moves to avoid damage followed by bar-room blows to the eyes, throat, or groin. “Flow and deception. While your opponent is recovering, you do what?”
“Run,” Reuben said in a bored tone.
When the last rubbernecker went to perform his ship chores, Max whispered in English, “We hit the cargo tonight. Try to find a crate with a damaged seal so you don’t have to make a new hole.”
Together, they planted the three mini cameras packed in Reuben’s gear to give them eyes on the outer hall and the elevator, all the entrances to their biozone. Max watched the video feeds on his wrist unit while guarding the door to the common area.
Reuben wore the starlight goggles and a black bodysuit. The Goat was a natural mountaineer and scaled the cargo containers with no safety har
ness. He didn’t find any damaged seals, but he did find an odd device. He whispered over the headset, “Someone stuck a meter in the top of the container door that measures percent water.”
“Saurians like low humidity, below 30 percent,” Max replied over the comm.
“This one reads really low, almost zero.”
“Pull it out and see if you can get a sample from the hole.”
The device did slide free, but Reuben couldn’t reach though. He peered inside with a flashlight. “Shiny pellets, bigger than our vitamins but smaller than the last segment of my little finger.”
“So they’re probably miners, recyclers, or drug makers—either way it’s a chemical, metal, or mineral. Not radioactive, or your comm would be acting up.”
“What?”
Hisses sounded from the habitat next door. Max checked his watch. “The hunt’s started. Get back. We’ll fashion a tool to extract your sample later.”
They rushed back to their rooms to feign sleep. Max swore he could hear the meal mammal screaming as the hunters cornered it in the jungle zone. The memory of those cries kept him awake for most of the night.
****
The next morning, Max’s jaw and head ached. He took the minimum dosage of painkiller at breakfast, which he limited to juice because it hurt too much to chew. Because of his grip problems, the first cup of juice spilled. He blamed the incident on lack of sleep and cleaned up the mess. In truth, prolonged use of the vibration gloves had damaged the nerves in his hand, a fact he hid from his host because it would denote weakness. He would need to switch to a coffee mug with a lid.
While Max nursed his second cup with both hands, the copilot coolly informed him that he was invited to lunch at the captain’s table. This sounds like a disciplinary action.
Max immediately retrieved the cameras and came up short. Someone had removed the device by the elevator. He cursed in English and pulled his apprentice aside. “Reuben, didn’t I tell you to wash your hands and put on gloves before planting the surveillance camera?”
“Yeah, I thought you were kidding. I’ve placed hundreds of them and never did that before.”
“I tell you these things to save your life. If you don’t understand, then ask!” Max paced his narrow room. “Lizards have a highly developed olfactory sense, especially when they’re hunting. You’ve been busted.”
“You mean we?” Reuben said.
“No. You made the mistake. Your scent is on the camera. I’ll try to talk our way out of the hole, but if the captain makes an issue of it, you’ll have to be disciplined.”
Reuben frowned. “Like a public caning?”
“Worse. We might have to hand over your computer pad.”
“No! Please. I’ll do anything,” Reuben begged.
Max closed his eyes. Pain made thinking difficult. Grinding his teeth had caused microfractures over the years. There wasn’t a dentist on the ship and might not be any on Eden. He might see a specialist in Jotunheim’s orbital station, but becoming vulnerable or submitting to anesthesia while on a mission was out of the question. We need some theater and gossip. Confidential conversation completed, he switched back to Banker. “Stay in here for forty minutes. Then come looking for me in your tent. Try to sneak up on me.”
When Reuben crept out, several minutes early, he stepped into the snare almost immediately. Dangling upside down, he shouted until Hans came from the common area to cut him down.
From the tent, Max said, “If he had been your enemy, you’d be dead. Watch for any change in your surroundings, and stop trying to cheat with technology.”
****
Over cold cut sandwiches and a garnish like horseradish, the captain presented the missing camera and demanded an explanation.
Max lied. “The surveillance wasn’t intended for you or your crew, sir. I fear it was meant for me.”
“I had no hand in this,” Zrulkesh objected.
“My lazy apprentice has been spying on me.” Max took a sip of the iced tea and pain shot through his mouth. He tried to minimize his reaction. “You’ve no doubt heard that I have been ambushing him and placing traps for him to avoid?”
“Yes.” The captain grinned.
“He uses cameras to track where I’m hiding. I was aware of the camera over the elevator and went the other direction to plant my surprise. He needs to learn this lesson.”
The Saurian sucked on his own straw, nodding approval. “How will you manage to avoid my crew members with your surprises?”
“I rub meat sticks on the device so Saurians can’t mistake the presence. The Goat remains clueless.”
“Good teaching.” Zrulkesh shoveled more food in. “Friend Max, I cannot help but notice you are still in pain.”
“My jaw this time,” Max admitted. Saurians with broken jaws could die of starvation, which made his injury sound worse to the captain. “Nothing broken, but the muscles are misbehaving.”
“My astrogator says you have many knots to untie before you find peace. She is willing to work with you further.”
An odd fortune cookie. Why has he been asking her about me? Is he still trying to recruit me? “I’m not sure how another massage would help long term.”
“There is another … technique she offers, but it requires much manhood.” The Saurian term he repeated referred to running a gauntlet of fellow warriors to earn their respect.
“You have undergone this treatment?”
Zrulkesh nodded his tail and growled in satisfaction. “I found it most liberating. However, it must be used sparingly because it can damage her.” The captain glanced down at Max’s diamond pouch. “I extend the treatment free of charge as your host, but I need some bond posted against my servant’s safety. You would receive it back if she remains unharmed.”
Such a gauntlet would raise his status in the eyes of the crew as well as alleviate the pain in his jaw and temple. If he refused, the discussion might return to the hidden camera. Max smiled and held up his sack of stones. “How many would be necessary as a bond?”
“Her debt is approximately 1.7 million credits.”
Max’s smile fell. His trove was worth only 1.5 million. He handed the entire pouch to his host. “What could it hurt to try?”
“I’ll wake her from her artificial slumber.” Zrulkesh left the room for several moments as Max finished his lunch. When he returned, the captain said, “Return to the massage table as you did before. She will guide the experience. Be brave.”
As instructed, Max rode the elevator back to the mirrored room, now chill from disuse. The music playing was the Giraffe Dance, a medicine song of his people. Someone had been listening to his sessions with Reuben.
Once again, he lay facedown on the cot. He tried to peek when he heard rustling, but the astrogator’s image didn’t appear in the mirrors from any angle he could see.
She climbed onto his back, humming like some medicine woman. Leaning over his neck, she placed fingers against the base of his skull until he felt dizzy. Then, she pulled upward with her other arm around his throat.
He gasped. In the nearest mirror, he saw the face of a gauzily clad woman choking him. She matched the photo in her obituary. She wasn’t very strong, so he had plenty of air to say, “A towel would give you more leverage.”
The astrogator released him, and he rolled over to look up at her face, which matched the image on his holo cube perfectly. Somehow the Magi woman had become the beautiful Gina Millhouse Graham, interstellar starlet from the slums of the New Hawaii refugee camp. Gina had achieved unparalleled success in her career and married a millionaire. Her tragic end had made her even more famous.
He tried to remember everything he could about the healing ceremony. The creator God who made all things could take away sickness, physical or spiritual. His spirit was supposed to enter !kia—a kind of enhanced consciousness.
She appeared puzzled. “Why don’t you fight?”
His stomach boiled as he marveled at her face. Somehow, he was speaking
to the woman’s ghost, one of the gauwasi, the dead summoned in the ceremony. “I spent my life avenging you.”
“But I chose the form of the woman you feared the most, one you wronged.” She could have been a Roman goddess, carved from pale marble. The healing power she wielded was ancient and dangerous.
He longed for her wrath. “Yes. Complete the circle.”
“What did you do to her?”
He tried to wiggle free, but she had him pinned with her weight and her eyes. “Do not break the link before the ceremony is completed. Speak if you wish healing.”
“I told her husband how to kill her.” She wrinkled her forehead, so he explained, “In my last months of residency, I had a bad habit and an expensive one. I needed n/um.” He pronounced the !Kung word similar to “numb.”
His confession poured out to his first victim. “Anatole Graham told me that his uncle was 119 years old, terminal, and begging to die. He had moved to Anodyne to appeal for a life extension from the university. Rarely, they allow the treatments for non-citizens who have improved the lot of humanity. After his final request had been rejected, the nephew offered me money to help with an untraceable mercy killing. Anatole had been removed from the will, so I saw no crime. I gave him a theoretical scenario that no one would suspect.” Max closed his eyes, unable to face to woman. “What he failed to mention was that he had been disinherited because he married a lower-class actress who had played a tawdry role. Once he used the chemical I told him about, Gina died of an apparent heart attack. His uncle reinstated Anatole into the will, and I was paid. When I read the papers, I wanted to kill him.”
“But you couldn’t.”
His eyes opened of their own accord, longing for that perfect, innocent face. “No, but I couldn’t let you go without justice. Instead, I sold everything I had and sent it to her family along with the truth about the murder.”
“You claimed responsibility?” Gina asked.
“I told them I was an assistant medic examiner who stumbled upon the conspiracy. I gave up both my scholarship and the dorm room that went with it. Then I sent my confession to the Union authorities.”
