Outcast

by Alex Douglas

  "Unfortunate? Yes." She bared her sharp teeth. "Unfortunate for you. The Contract specifically states that the cargo arrive in Belaari space untouched. You have reneged on your obligations and failed to fulfill the conditions. Therefore, the Belaari government has no choice but to refuse payment."

  "Anything else?"

  Her violet eyes narrowed. "And you, as the one responsible for this ship and crew, will be blacklisted from any further dealings with Belaar and by default, Andra. Your career is finished, ku-tah."

  Prez chewed at his thumbnail. "Really," he said, attempting to sound disinterested even though his heart was thumping in his chest. "Because I've been reading the contract myself. I can see why your government chose us for this mission, very clever on their part. Despite the Outcast's status as an Akilian-registered vessel, we require special documentation from Andran Customs to fly it legally, since ku-tah are officially Akilian refugees with no access to governmental assistance in the event of a dispute. And of course, we would not be able to pay for mediation ourselves." He paused for a second, before going on. "So were the cargo to be damaged and payment refused, no diplomatic incidents would ensue."

  "I am not responsible for my government's decisions," Kai said. "In any case, your argument is irrelevant. You have broken the contract, and as such -- as I have already stated -- are not entitled to payment. It is not kalanu no saelah, my ku-tah friend."

  Jump gate science. "Perhaps you didn't hear, Kai. The Akilian government has passed a resolution recognizing all ku-tah as full Citizens and as such, I will be legally entitled to pursue this dispute with your government through the Andran justice system. And..." he could barely stop himself from rubbing his hands with glee, "as you are aware, any contract under dispute is no longer bound by the confidentiality agreement. I'd be forced... not that I'd enjoy it of course... to highlight this further example of Belaari intransigence... in the media."

  "In any case," Lan chipped in, "the crux of the matter is not the altered status of Captain Prez and the crew of the Outcast, but that of the princess herself. The Belaari contract names her simply as Kahalia, princess-in-exile. However, the Andrans have translated this single word as an entire paragraph. Section three, sub paragraph D -- and I quote a small phrase -- ‘regal and diplomatic representative of Belaar'. The living space of any diplomatic representative automatically falls under the jurisdiction of their planetary government. So aboard the Outcast, the princess's quarters were not the responsibility of Captain Prez, rather of you, Kai. I assume you can prove that you are not, in fact, the one who has ground his pepper into the stew."

  Kai looked as if she was about to choke. Her cheeks bulged, and for a second, Prez thought she was about to rip off his head. Then strange gleam appeared in her violet eyes. "You are aware of much," she said, her jaw clenched and a muscle twitching in her cheek. Then she sighed, and appeared to diminish slightly in size. "It is in no one's interest that this sordid affair be made public. Very well, you will receive your payment."

  Prez forced himself to appear nonchalant. "Full payment."

  "The Belaari government will fulfill all obligations," Kai said through her teeth. There was a silence, and then she started speaking again unexpectedly, in an almost conversational tone. "Of course I had hoped that I would be the first kaloha in history to escort a princess untouched, but now it appears that I will not get my wish, despite the extreme precautions I have taken. Naturally, should either of you ever reveal that information, you are aware that the punishment for breaking confidentiality is thirty years in a holding center of the Belaari government's choice. I hear there is a pleasant one on the distant sulphur moon of Izaq Four. And I shall personally rip your testicles off and feed them to the meha. Is everything clear?"

  "Very clear," Prez said. "It was a pleasure doing business with you and your government, Kai."

  She snorted and adjusted her hat so that it stuck up higher on her head. "You may not get the chance again," she said. "We do not take kindly to blackmail." Muttering to herself, she descended the access shaft and Prez heard her angry footsteps clanking away.

  When she was safely out of range, he turned to Lan and grinned. "We're going to be rich, my friend!" Then he leapt forward and grabbed Lan in a hug, kissing him all over his face. "Going to tell the others!"

  He rushed to the access shaft and gripped the rails in his hot hands. He could barely speak with excitement. And of course, he'd just experienced the intense -- and rare -- pleasure of having watched a Belaari squirm and concede. It didn't get any better than that. "Coming down?"

  "Someone needs to dock the vessel."

  "What's wrong with your face?" Prez paused. "It's coming out in blue spots."

  Lan raised a hand to his cheek. "I am...excited."

  "Well, once we're on the port, the mukkesh is on me! You'll join us?"

  "I will join you."

  Prez beamed, about to explode with happiness. "See you then," he said and descended into the corridor below.

  Chapter Ten

  The post-mission party took place in a bar with the dubious name of Grot's Vegetable Parlour. Lan studied the map of the leisure area and scratched his head, wondering what sort of vegetables would be served in such an establishment. Prez seemed to gravitate to the less fashionable and badly-kept areas where all sorts of odd beings were to be found, dodgy deals made, illegal substances traded for a high price. Then he shrugged and wandered through the busy passage, smiling to himself as he remembered the white-hot feeling of Prez's happiness in his mind. If Prez was happy, then he was too.

  He had not seen Prez since they had been assigned their quarters, which were not as wonderful as in the last port, but still more than adequate, and separate this time so Lan was happy to cast off his clothes and stroll around as naked as he pleased. Then the captain had gone shopping, and Lan had some business of his own to attend to, such as buying trousers that were more accommodating, making a few enquiries, and opening a Belaari bank account, which he had to do before he could receive his share of the payment. When he saw how much it was, he almost fainted on the spot.

  The port was much bigger than he remembered. He felt a wave of nostalgia as he remembered himself standing by the trendy boutiques, staring through the windows at clothes he could not afford and without any clue as to what was fashionable in the sector. Had it really only been a few months ago? Now he strode along in his knee-high leather boots, a roomy pair of sapphire blue trousers and matching body suit, and a simple but elegant thigh-length robe which, the Andran sales assistant had assured him, made him look like Falo Mitarb. Lan didn't know who that was, but judging by the pawing and slavering of the staff, it seemed to be a compliment. The fabric was woven from thin strands of saleosh hair, and shone in different colors depending on how the light caught it. Lan held out his arms as he walked, watching the material shimmer in the artificial daylight.

  Grot's Vegetable Parlour was at the end of the promenade behind a spectacular fountain which, according to the plaque, was a reproduction of the Loha Falls on Belaar itself. The sound of the water rushing over the fake stones was pleasant, and blended nicely with the hum of conversation and the faintly piped music that sounded very much like someone playing the faolan. The music inside the bar was not so pleasant, but it was bearable. As his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, Lan saw the crew of the Outcast sprawled on cushions in the corner around a circular table that was groaning under the weight of various bowls of food he couldn't identify -- in the center, an enormous jug of mukkesh, already half-empty.

  "Lan!" Glitch squealed, her cheeks reddened from alcohol and the heat. "Come and sit beside me. Look at you, all gorgeous in your new clothes!"

  Lan down, smiling shyly. "These clothes are appropriate?"

  "They're the most appropriate clothes I've ever seen," Kris slurred, leaning over and wrapping his floppy arms around Lan's leg.

  "Ignore the drunkard," Vaxel said, gnawing the last chunks of cooked meat off a long thick bone. "T
uck in! We ordered the Belaari Royal Surprise. Thought it was very appropriate." There was a bout of chuckling and nudging, and Lan found a large glass of mukkesh thrust into his hand.

  "To Belaari royalty!" Vaxel cried, and they all toasted and drained their glasses.

  Lan peered at the dishes and selected an inoffensive looking stick of what looked like a root vegetable. Just as he was about to nibble the end, he noticed that Prez was staring at him with an odd expression on his face. As the others made some quips about princesses and peas -- a joke Lan did not understand -- he tried to gauge Prez's mood. Happy still, but something else, that hint of darkness again.

  "Is something wrong?" Lan asked.

  "Oh, ignore the misery," Vaxel said. "He's just been to the junkyard to see if anyone wants the Outcast. What was the offer, a thousand gees?"

  "Two thousand," Prez said glumly, but then brightened. "But the new ship will be delivered tomorrow. Andran registered X59 Galactic Explorer with two shuttles and jump capability, no less! Not quite the distance capacity of the gates, but still... we can go wherever we like, my friends!" He smiled and took a sip of his drink, but Lan still felt the chill of darkness in his mind. It was time to tell Prez the result of the enquiries he had made, and he was so excited that he almost forgot how to speak for a second.

  He cleared his throat. "I have some news," he said. "I have found an Azari transport dealer staying at this port who is employed by their planetary government. It appears that Akilian vessels are in great demand at the moment among collectors, since no more are likely to be made. As the Outcast is the last of its kind, the Azari government is prepared to offer a substantial amount of money for it. It will be displayed in the transport museum in Azar's capital city. Pending an assessment of its condition, naturally, but when he heard it was still in service he seemed most excited."

  There was a silence.

  "Oh," Prez said, and his eyes started to shine. "Oh, Lan..."

  "The Outcast in a museum for all posterity," said Vaxel. "I'll drink to that."

  "To the Outcast!" Glitch cried and gulped the last of her mukkesh.

  Kris was still wrapped around Lan's leg and let out a snore. Glitch ruffled his stripe of hair. "He's happy too," she said. "That's the best news, Lan. You're wonderful, do you know that?"

  "Thank you." Lan smiled, trying to move Kris's head away from his crotch. He fished a business card from his pocket and laid it on the table near Prez. "Here are the contact details of the Azari. You will find him in the Friends' café on the promenade in the mornings. They serve very good toasted galaar."

  Prez stood up suddenly. "Bathroom," he said and ran off to a door in the corner of the bar. Lan stared after him, his mouth open slightly. It didn't seem to matter how long he spent in the company of the ku-tah, their reactions were always going to be a puzzle.

  "I do not understand," he said. "He is not happy?"

  "Oh, he's happy," Vaxel said. "He's very attached to that ship. We all are, but... well, if you knew the story behind it, you'd understand, what he went through to get us out of the compound."

  "It's not our story to tell," Glitch said, tapping her finger to her lips. Then she fixed Vaxel with an odd look. "Weren't we going to ... go to a club?"

  "But the food!" Vaxel pointed to the bowls, which were not even half empty.

  Lan took a bite of the vegetable and roared at the sudden spicy heat that seared his tongue and came blasting out of his nose. Struggling not to spit it all over the table, he grabbed his glass of mukkesh and downed it in one gulp. It took the edge off the burn for a moment, and he sat there, panting. "You may eat the food," he gasped. "I will find something more...suitable."

  Vaxel chuckled. "Should've warned you about that. Apparently the Belaari call it something like hell's carrot." He patted Kris and tried to untangle his comatose friend from Lan's leg. "Come on, brother, let's go. Look, you've drooled over Lan's good trousers."

  Lan watched them staggering to their feet and dragging the protesting Kris out of the bar, puzzled. Had they not wanted him to come to the party? He could think of no other explanation for their departure. He looked at the other bowls and settled on a creamy mash. It looked bland enough, and when he tasted it -- with some trepidation -- he relaxed and began to spoon it into his mouth. He hadn't realized how hungry he was and how good real food tasted, after three weeks of packs and the occasional brown dirt the android concocted.

  He'd finished the mash and was chewing on a green stalk when Prez came back from the bathroom. His eyes were red and shiny, but he beamed at Lan and flopped down beside him on the cushion. His outstretched hand rested against Lan's thigh. "Lan," he said. "Really. That's the nicest thing anyone's done for me in a long, long time. I'd never have thought of it, myself. Was so focused on getting the new ship, sort of kept it out of my head that I'd have to lose the Outcast. You know..." He rolled onto his side and propped his head up on his hand, looking at Lan. "That ship means the universe to me." Then he glanced around. "Where did they go?"

  "They have gone to a club."

  Prez frowned. "There aren't any clubs on Belaari ports, not that I know of."

  Even more mysterious. Lan gave up trying to figure out their actions and considered the normal order of events. Food, mukkesh, then...

  "Will you ...pup?"

  "No." Prez laughed and lay back down. "I'm too happy to go to those dives. Anyway, you wouldn't want to, would you?"

  "No."

  "Great, then you can tell me some things about Aldor. I don't know a thing about it, or you as a matter of fact. What's it like?"

  Lan considered the question. "It is difficult to tell you what Aldor is like. It is a planet. Is there an area in particular you wish me to focus on?"

  "Well, what do you do for fun?"

  "Ah. Well, sport is particularly popular on the Southern Continent, where I am from. There are some grazing beasts that are very difficult to tame. It is a challenging activity to ride them...or at least, not to get thrown off and killed. And there are many lakes for boating. In the northern continent, there is snow all year round and very few people. I have never been there to find out what they do for fun." He looked at Prez's glazed eyes and smiled. "I imagine it would be uninteresting for you, were you to visit Aldor. There is no alcohol or... pleasure establishments."

  "Is that what you think I am?" Prez said. "An alcoholic horndog?"

  "In the short time we have spent together you have consumed a large quantity of mukkesh and been to two brothels. I merely deduced that it is how... your people... enjoy their free time."

  Prez covered his face with his hands and groaned. "Yes, I suppose that's how it looks."

  "Alcohol is frowned upon on Aldor because of its dulling effect on the mind. I do not wish you to think I am..." He searched for the word for a moment. "Casting judgment. However, there is a cooking herb on Aldor that is commonly smoked. Perhaps you would like to try some."

  "Drugs?" Prez said, his eyes wide with apparent excitement. "Are you serious? Is it legal?"

  "It is legal on Aldor," Lan said. "And here, it is not illegal. I have some in my quarters. I was saving it for a special occasion."

  "Let's do it! Fun, Aldorian style. What does it do?"

  Lan's heart pounded blissfully at the thought of Prez coming to his quarters. He stood up and offered Prez a hand. When he'd hauled the captain to his feet, he slid his hand into his pocket in case Prez saw the glow his touch had caused on his skin. "I must warn you," he said as they left the bar and set off along the promenade. "I have no idea how pactishe will affect you."

  Prez laughed and linked his arm in Lan's. "You wouldn't believe what my body has been through," he said. "I'm sure I can handle a smoke of herbs."

  ***

  A couple of hours later, they were lying on their backs, gazing at the artificial starscape on the ceiling of Lan's quarters. The air was thick with the sweet smell of pactishe smoke, and Lan was almost completely numbed with pleasure. His whole body felt ligh
t and tingled delightfully, and his mind felt as if it was a door that had been flung open, and all his memories, happy and sad, floated around in his head like fireflies. He had almost forgotten how to speak.

  "I can see the universe," he said eventually.

  "I can't feel my body," Prez sighed.

  "You have a beautiful body."

  "I have a beautiful body."

  "I love my body. It has new parts."

  "New parts. What new parts?"

  Lan giggled. "The parts I showed you."

  "Those were nice parts."

  "Thank you."

  "You're a wonderful being."

  "I am a wonderful being." Lan took another rolled up smoke from beside his bed and lit it, puffing until he felt the scorch at the back of his throat. It was the best feeling in the universe. Or the second best. He remembered the night with the princess and sighed.

  "Lan?"

  "Yes?"

  "Why are you alone?"

  "I am not alone. You are here."

  "I'm here." Prez yawned and stretched, and snuggled into the bedcover.

  "Pactishe? It's the last one."

  "I think I've had enough. My brain might fly away."

  "That is the idea." Lan finished the smoke and stubbed it out on the bedside table. "What a misfortune; I missed the ash receptacle. The table is burned."

  Prez laughed. "Kai's going to rip our testicles off if we've damaged stuff. They're paying for the first two nights."

  "I am still becoming acquainted with my testicles. I will not allow Kai to rip them off."

  "So they come out when you become an adult?"

  "Something like that."

  Prez mumbled something indistinct, and Lan turned to look at him. His eyes were closed, and Lan sighed with contentment and rolled onto his side, watching Prez drift off to sleep. He hummed for a moment then whispered "Meshea que kayo, meshea te mayo, maqual mishmiyan. My heart is yours." The Words of Binding. He had practiced them so many times, until they were just another phrase like the advertising slogans that played on the audio entertainment channels. He had never noticed how much they could mean, in the right context. He stroked Prez's hair for a while, dreaming of love, until he too had fallen asleep.