Ladders were allowed because every known sentient species was essentially bipedal. Even the insects, who often had four, six or eight limbs primarily used just two to stand upright. When they wanted to move faster, a few species resorted to using multiple limbs. Forest Children often walked on all fours when in a hurry.
Even though he was born and grew up traveling in space among alien beings, Drexler still marveled at the wide variation in body design. He often wondered why the universe seemed to prefer the majority of its sentient creatures be bipedal. Maybe it was only the space-faring creatures that tended toward walking on two legs. He pondered this while he plied the busy passages on his way to the Lizard bay.
“Damn,” he muttered under his breath when he remembered the uncomfortable arrangement he made with General Fourseven about access to the captured Reptilians. “Open channel to the Protector. Get me their security,” he said in wearied tones.
After a brief pause, strange words assembled from clicks and high-frequency tones spoke in his comm implants. While he had great respect for the Arachnids who rapidly learned to use the Tradespeak language without the aid of a translating synthesizer, the voice made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. “How can help you, Captain?” the voice asked.
“Who is this?” Drexler asked without formality. The Arachnids were an affable bunch who did not stand much on formality and courtesy as did Fourseven’s Winged species. They got along well with the humanoids, once the warm-blooded creatures got past their general, seemingly ingrained discomfort in the presence of giant, talking insects. Drexler enjoyed Arachnid company more as he spent time with them.
“This Boljak. My duty this cycle security job,” he replied.
“Ah, good,” Drex said. “Fourseven asked us to inform your security when anyone visits the Lizard ship.”
“And you visit now?” Boljak asked.
“You got it,” Drex replied.
“Got? What I get?” Boljak replied.
Drex realized the Arachnid was still unfamiliar with informal Tradespeak.
“I mean to say that you understand correctly,” Drexler replied, choosing his words carefully.
“You got it,” Boljak repeated the phrase back to Drex, obviously pleased to learn some new turn of phrase.
Drexler laughed, and the Arachnid made a series of clicking sounds Drex understood to be a chuckle. Drex also marveled that nearly every species he met seemed to have some form of laughter. If not laughter, some form of humor seemed to be a universal trait among sentient beings. He felt the universe itself had a sense of humor, and he took that common trait as proof. He guessed being self-aware naturally led to jokes as an essential survival mechanism.
Drex reached the aft section via the central corridor that ran parallel with the ship’s arching dorsal frame member. He opened a round hatch at the end of the hall and began a long climb down seven decks to the cargo section.
The ship was essentially modular and divided into the tractor section and the cargo modules. In his thirty-five years on the ship, Drexler had never seen the cargo modules separated. The mechanisms to detach them were still in place, but modifications and additions over many decades made the cargo modules essentially permanent parts of the ship. Drexler stored the Lizard ship in a set of two modules that were cut open and spliced together to hold excessively large cargo.
When he reached what everyone now referred to as ‘the lizard bay,’ Drex took note that Fourseven had doubled the number of her soldiers that now stood watch. To prevent Fourseven from murdering the entire Reptilian Crew, Drexler agreed to let the Insectoid General handle security. So far, none of the Lizards had stepped out of line. They stayed on their ship.
It appeared to Drexler that the subject of trust with General Fourseven was something of a binary proposition. Either she trusted implicitly or not at all. Once the Insectoids regarded someone or something as a threat, they seemed to take extreme actions toward that threat. Otherwise, they were pleasant, extremely polite and generally benign. Drexler began to exercise greater care with his actions around the Insectoids, lest he land on the wrong side of trust.
“Captain Fleetfoot,” Drex announced, stopping inches from the Insectoid Winged guard who did not step aside to let him pass. The insectoid stood nearly two feet taller than Drex, but that did not stop the Captain from attempting to use his physical presence to make a point. The insectoid guard was unimpressed. “Let me pass. I have business with the Lizards.”
The guard slowly turned his heart-shaped, yellow-striped, black head to look down at the Captain with composite eyes. “I was not informed,” the guard said through his tradespeak synthesizer. It was impossible to tell emotion through that synthesized voice, but something told Drex that the words were not intended to be friendly.
“My error,” came the strange voice over Drexler’s shoulder. It was Boljak, rushing toward him.
“What are you doing here?” Drex asked with a smile.
“Decide come self. See you. I not tell guard. Not get here in time. Sorry. Sorry.” Boljak lost words speaking quickly.
“It’s OK, don’t worry,” Drex replied, holding out his right hand for Boljak to shake. The Arachnid took Drexler’s hand in his, wrapping his eight, hard, spindly fingers around Drexler’s. Boljak was careful to keep his razor-sharp fingertips from contacting Drexler’s skin. The ship surgeon had to correct the damage from more than a few accidents arising from botched interspecies greeting gestures. That did not stop the Professional Astronauts from shaking hands at any opportunity. That human greeting translated well across many species and was a standard that spanned centuries. Fourseven’s group was new to the custom, but they seemed to enjoy it.
The human and Arachnid turned back to the cargo bay entrance, but the soldiers still did not move. Boljak said something in the Insectoid language that got the soldier’s attention. Drexler knew enough about the Winged Insectoids to read anger in their body language. He wasn’t too sure about the Arachnids, but he was fairly certain that the six arms that waved as Boljak spoke to the guard transmitted agitation. The guards stepped aside, and Boljak passed into the bay. Drex followed.
“Idiots,” Boljak said clearly in Tradespeak. “They make me give direct order to let us pass. They know we can be here!”
“Something tells me that ‘idiot’ is not the only insult word you’ve learned in Tradespeak,” Drex said.
Boljak laughed and replied, “Yes. We Arachnids enjoy use such words. Very useful.”
“Well, thank you for clearing that up,” Drex replied.
“This your ship. Why you force ask permission on your own ship? Insulting. I do not like this security job,” Boljak said. “I come here self to show respect.”
Drex reached out a hand and placed it on one of Boljak’s eight spherical shoulders. “I appreciate that. It means a lot to me, and I won’t forget your gesture. The security arrangement is a deal I made with your General in the interest of peaceful cooperation.”
“Not my General,” Boljak replied. “Cila General. I follow Cila, not Fourseven.”
Drex cocked his head and listened with great interest. He did not realize there was a division within the Insectoid ranks. He made a mental note of that as something he could use down the road.
Two more Winged guards at the ramp to the Reptilian airlock stood still as statues as the Drex and his new friend passed.
“What smell this?” Boljack asked as the odor of tobacco, both old and freshly burnt, hit them like a wall.
“It’s called Tobacco,” Drex replied with a smirk. “Lizards love it.”
Reptilians loved tobacco so much, in fact, that their government demanded that it be classified contraband throughout the Trade Union. The substance was highly addictive to the Lizards. It was also highly profitable as a commodity on the underground market. Drexler often supplemented his income by selling tobacco products illegally. It was tobacco that now kept the Lizards pliant and docile. Drexler supplied it to them in exchan
ge for their cooperation.
So far, the arrangement worked out very well. Only the de facto Alpha of the captured Lizard crew made one minor objection by lifting Drexler off his feet by the neck. But that was a few days ago, and they had since come to an understanding. Drexler supplied tobacco and kept General Fourseven from executing them all, and in exchange, the Lizards would remain open to the idea of going to work for Drexler when called.
Every other Reptilian they passed in the corridors had a cigar, cigarette or pipe hanging from his mouth. All the space-faring Reptilians were male. Drexler had never seen a female Lizard. He recently learned that male Reptilians outnumbered females by more than fifty to one.
Drex made his way to a common area, where he found his second lead engineer playing a spirited game of mahjong with three small reptilians. Everyone smoked. Crewman Bao spoke rapid fire Mandarin, and to Drexler’s surprise, the Lizards answered in the same language. It appeared the group was gambling. They used bits of spicy Chinese sausage as currency. Drex stopped dead in his tracks, struck into silence by the surreal scene.
“Ah! Captain!” Bao exclaimed, suddenly noticing Drexler in the room. He moved to stand, but Drexler motioned him to remain seated.
“You seem to be getting on well,” Drexler remarked.
“Yes, Captain. Thank you for assigning me to the Lizard ship. Mahjong Diplomacy is progressing nicely.”
“Oh, is that what you call it?” Drex replied with a chuckle. “You’re gambling for spicy sausage?”
“Yes, sir,” Bao replied. “But these guys like to cheat! Or, at least they try.” Bao turned to the Lizard to his right and said something in Mandarin about cheating. Drexler understood only a few words.
The little Reptilian found it amusing, as he threw his head back and made the gurgling noise that passed for laughter. He bobbed up and down in his chair and waved his scaly green hand in Bao’s face as he replied. Bao found the reply equally hilarious.
“You have to watch these bastards every second!” Bao said to his captain.
“Sounds like we should teach them poker. Might be a challenge,” Drexler replied in Tradespeak so that everyone could understand.
“What is poker?” one of the lizards asked with great interest. It appeared these Reptiles enjoyed games.
“Never mind that!” Bao shouted in mock anger. “You owe me three pieces of sausage. I won that round!”
“No,” the first Lizard replied. “He only owes you two.”
“Bao, isn’t all this sausage yours anyway?” Drexler asked.
“Well, yes,” Bao replied. “I am the bank, but that is hardly the point.”
Drexler understood. Arguing was part of the fun.
“You not yet try our meat,” The second Lizard replied in Tradespeak for the benefit of all present. “Your pig meat food good, but not spicy. Our food much spicy!” The Lizard reached into his pocket and produced a small, red hunk of meat that bore a striking similarity to Bao’s Chinese sausage.
“Ah, Bao, I’m not sure it’s a good idea to eat that,” Drexler said. It was too late. Swept up in the moment, Bao picked up the hunk of meat and bit into it.
Drexler was relieved as Bao chewed and swallowed. He seemed to tolerate the alien food.
“OK,” Bao declared. “This is delicious. You are right. It is also very, very spicy. Wow!” He reached for a glass of water and his hand froze.
“Oh shit.” Drexler declared with a flat voice.
Bao lurched forward, knocking the water to the floor. He was not breathing. His face turned red and began to swell. The lizards froze for a moment, mouths hanging open. One of them upturned the table and threw it aside. In an instant, all the lizards crouched down around Bao. They rolled him onto his back as Bao began to convulse. One of the lizards shrieked.
“Friend Bao!” another Lizard exclaimed.
“Hurt!” shouted another.
“Friend Bao! Friend Bao!” they began to chant. Not knowing what to do, they shook Bao and poked him. “Help friend Bao!” they exclaimed and shrieked, raising their heads with open mouths, hands flying about.
“Comm!” Drex spoke aloud. “Get me Doctor Abiola! Emergency!”
“Abiola here,” came the Doctor’s immediate reply.
“We need you on the Lizard ship right now. Crewman Bao is down. Alien food ingestion. Looks like anaphylactic shock or much worse. It’s bad!”
The terrified Lizards wailed in high-pitched tones. Their desperate efforts to render aid began to look harmful. Drexler moved in.
“Help is on the way. Please stay calm,” Drexler said to no avail. He had never seen such emotion from Lizards before. He only knew their aggressive side. They were genuinely distraught over Bao’s illness.
Drex knelt down and pushed one of the Lizards aside. Bao was in bad shape. His face was so swollen that his eyes looked like slits. Convulsions spread in random waves across his body. White foam formed at the corners of his mouth. Drex put his hand at the back of his head to prevent him from cracking it on the deck.
A roar filled the common room, and the little lizards froze in terror. A hard, scaly hand touched Drexler’s shoulder and pushed. Before he knew it, Drex was sliding across the deck. He looked back just in time to see the Alpha Lizard scoop Bao up in his arms as if he were a small child.
“Hey!” Drexler shouted. “What the hell are you doing?”
“I help!” the Alpha shouted as he bounded through the open portal and into the hallway. Boljak and Drexler followed with the panicked mahjong players close behind.
The Reptilian medical bay was thankfully just down the hall. The Alpha placed Bao on the floor in the center of the room. Drex moved to him, but the Alpha pushed him away.
“Stay back!” he ordered in unfiltered tradespeak. The Alpha tapped a wall console with the tips of his claws. Several flexible hoses fell from the ceiling and waved around Bao. They flicked and flashed around Bao’s convulsing body like reptile tongues. Drex realized they were sensors or instruments of some kind.
The alpha retrieved a tool from a cabinet and crouched down over Bao. Too late, Drexler realized the tool was a sharp blade.
“Hey!” Drexler screamed and lunged. To his surprise, Boljak held him back.
“Wait,” the Arachnid said.
With surprising gentleness, the Alpha put one hand on Bao’s swollen forehead and flicked the blade across Bao’s throat at the space just above where his collarbones met. He grabbed one of the tubes hanging from the ceiling and quickly inserted it into the hole. Bao began to breathe again.
Drexler relaxed. “A tracheotomy,” Drexler said. He was stunned. “How did you know that …” he stammered.
The Alpha jumped up and checked the data on a display, then knelt down over Bao again. He tilted his head and placed his ear hole over Bao’s heart.
“Blood organ not good,” the Alpha said in Tradespeak, but seemingly to himself. “Not good,” he said again as he returned to the data display. His claws raced across the input screen until he found the information he was looking for. “Not good!” he bellowed, made a fist and punched the wall. He made frustrated gestures with his hands and hissed.
The Alpha entered another command, and a new tube snaked down from the ceiling. Before Drexler knew what was happening, the tube produced a long, metal needle from its end. The Alpha grabbed it and plunged it into Bao’s chest. Drexler gasped. He surely thought Bao dead.
As he stood trembling, Drexler watched Bao’s face turn from purple, to red, to pink. The convulsions stopped. The Alpha crouched down again and placed his ear hole on Bao’s chest again. He retracted the claw from his forefinger and touched it to Bao’s neck, forehead, and ear, trying to discern the Human’s condition.
“Let me look!” shouted a familiar voice.
Doctor Abiola pushed aside the little mahjong-playing lizards and crouched down beside the Alpha lizard. He removed a med scanner from his bag and ran it over Bao’s body from head to toe.
“You did t
his?” the Doctor asked the Alpha.
“Yes,” the Reptile replied.
“You saved him. He almost died.”
The big Reptile said nothing.
“Please show me what you did, so we can continue treatment,” the doctor said with surprising deference.
Before joining the company nearly thirty years ago, Doctor Samuel Abiola had been a Marine combat medic with the Pan-African Federation. He saw decades of conflict with Reptiles on many border worlds, and often professed a dislike and distrust of Reptilians. But now, his broad, muscled form seemed quite relaxed as he stood close and questioned the Alpha Reptile on the treatment administered to Crewman Bao.
“I will need to analyze the chemical you injected him with, but it seems to have stabilized his pulse and countered the allergic reaction.”
“Yes,” the Alpha said. “It is a substance our veterinarians use on food herd mammals. Sometimes these animals are bitten by venomous predators on my planet.”
“But how did you know it would work on humans?” Samuel asked.
“Humans have similar proteins in blood cells as our herd animals.”
“You are familiar with Human body chemistry?” the Doctor asked, not bothering to conceal his surprise. “Forgive me, but are you not a ship maintenance worker?”
“This is what my Alphas tell me to be. They tell me to be military, but I study medicine when I can,” the Reptile replied.
“What is your name,” Samuel asked.
“My name is Schaal,” the Alpha replied.
“Schaal, are you telling me that you learned medicine on your own? As a hobby?”
“Mostly,” Schaal replied. “There are some teachers who help Reptiles like me learn outside what we are told to be. It is not legal on my world. I know much of other species ― Simians, Forest Children even Insectoids, I study. A few weeks ago, when I learn humans a single species, I study much. Human biology very strange, very interesting to this one.” Schaal realized he was sharing a great deal and trailed off. He made a point not to make eye contact.
Rogue Messiah: Fleetfoot Interstellar Series, Book 2 Page 7
