by Marcus Sloss
CHAPTER 1
“Sit, please. What brings you to my booth?” The alien across from me shifted in a large cedar rocking chair as his lips peeled back, revealing rows of serrated teeth. I was starting to think movie directors must have had inside knowledge of aliens. This fellow in front of me was a blue-skinned climbing species. His clawed, seven-fingered hands gripped the armrests as his long ears twitched to catch a random noise that came from behind me. Something flickered in my peripheral vision, and my eyes darted to see his tail correcting a plaque’s placement until it was exactly where he desired it.
As he spoke, my integrated translator noted that he did not have an English-assigned name. I noticed his species was another nine on the rating scale. I was overwhelmed by the information the alien controllers were giving me access to. There was still so much to understand.
“My name is Eric Yang; my friends call me Cap. I would like to call you Winston. A friend of mine lost his name recently. His owner informed us he was called Felix. Does that work?”
“The translator takes the name you pick and substitutes my name perfectly. I am honored you chose a respectable replacement. Since I am not busy, why don’t you tell me why you are here, and a little about yourself. I do have this sign for a reason.” Winston’s tail flicked towards another plaque on his wall. It read We reserve the right to refuse service and was hung above a cute nine-tailed kitten. The alien was certainly particular.
“I do not have much experience in fighting aliens. At first glance, I thought you were a mercenary captain, based on the footage playing behind you that showcases so much information on so many different aliens. I sent a query to my friend downstairs to figure out if we could hire troops. We learned you can only exit the portal you came in from, meaning no mercenaries marching between worlds during golden portals. When I gave your booth a second inspection, I realized you have knowledge that may very well save the lives of people I care about,” I said.
The video broadcasting behind Winston caught my attention. The screen flipped left to right like a slideshow. A new alien would appear with detailed information about them indicated in sections of the image: how fast they were, how high they could jump, level of technology, strengths, weaknesses, and more side notes; it even had stats with scoring. “You turn invisible. Which makes you a prime candidate for detailed surveillance.”
“And why should I sell to you?” Winston said. He locked his long blue fingers. I felt his stare as he gazed over his knuckles. “I have refused humans before.”
There were scars etched into his lean naked body. I assumed Winston’s kind did not wear clothes when shifting to invisible. Nudity was common among the aliens I saw at the great market.
“I have over a thousand noncombatants I need to protect. Two species now,” I said while proudly holding up two fingers. Winston raised what could only be assumed was an eyebrow. “When the containment ship arrived, humanity panicked. I had a powerful friend who loves me; she funded our stronghold and used her position of power to make sure we were safe. The gates activated before we were even close to prepared. We still are not. We encountered three alien species, as only three of our gates shined blue. The puroon, they decimated a small stronghold. I see you smirking. They died to buxen.”
He gave a hearty, odd laugh. He held his seven blue fingers out, stopping my speech as he generated an image. I saw the species Nancy had named the buxen. He started flipping through images of the race in all sorts of variations. I picked out the one with the right gravity sleds after thirty or so images. Winston then brought up images of mounted puroons.
“Worm skin, centipede bodies. Monster size,” I said.
There were variations he flipped through, but the giveaway was the background. I saw the same planet, with the moon close in the sky, as when the gates had first opened.
“These were the puroons we faced. The vegetation and moon are very distinct. The sole survivor gifted us his tavers in need of a home. Those we brought to Earth have improved immensely under our protection since moving into our lake. I even let the little bastard who controlled them go.”
Winston clicked his teeth together with a throaty purr of happiness. “It is rare I come here and am given free information. I am not a moral high ground species. I would have taken the tavers back to my home planet, and I would have also enslaved that puroon you let go. He was lying. Their kind was once the most prosperous among we who vie for survival. The puroon are now remnants of a lost age. Tell me about the third gate, please—and before you get sour about free information, remember that I just informed you that you were tricked by that puroon. I will offer you more free information if you cooperate.”
“What is free to give and does no harm, can help. I read a fortune cookie with that on it once… maybe? It could have been an angry lover ranting. Regardless, the flapions and gargoyles were in the other gate.” I sighed heavily, recalling the fight. Two good soldiers had died that night, along with a lot of innocent humans. “The flapions arrived with a scout. I think they were testing the area to see if there were any worthy targets. The next night they pushed almost two dozen gargoyles through. They’re nasty creatures. We expended vital missiles to repel their attack. Many died, while some slunk back to their home planet. Since that night we have been preparing for this day. Probably, for this moment. We had no idea what was valuable to a bunch of universal aliens. We are adjusting to find value to trade with as we learn.”
“I am not a charity. You are different than the humans I normally encounter. Your ancestors are less…” Winston paused as he struggled to find the correct verbiage. “Rational. They tend to be just as cunning, but more impulsive.”
“I would like to meet them. So far we have not seen any.”
“They tend to not trade. They are mighty raiders. Why trade for items today when you can just take them in eleven days? I am glad you are low on funds. With a proper army, you, Eric, will be a mighty foe. Right now, you are correct. You will be crushed by a majority of those who oppose you, unless…” Winston paused while stroking the fluff on his tail, deep in thought. Was I being baited into a sales tactic, or about to be told to leave? “I will not sell to you. But I will help you, slightly. You are not a maniac, but I sense it in you. Show me your potential deals.”
We had only promised to buy three sets of armor for my two girlfriends and one sort-of girlfriend. There was no “seal the deal” agreement yet; our tavers-crafted rocking chairs were on the way. Outside of that, we still had teams scouring the market. I willed my potential deal to him from the translator.
“This deal is good. Turzok, as you call him, will make a lot off those chairs. They fit his kind perfectly and will be unique, while comfortable. I feel I still owe you. What would you like to know?”
“I feel I would never hear the end of it if I asked for chickens. Give me a moment to think about it,” I said. My Gpad was stuffed with updates. Instead of opening it, I sighed. I could understand not giving a potential enemy vital warfare information. Then it hit me. “If you document everything, would a map of the market be allowed?”
“Ah… that would cost you.” Winston stood and I grimaced. The alien was male; I knew this because I happened to be sitting at cock height. I leaned back as he scoffed.
“What!? That was terrible phrasing,” I said with a light chuckle.
He pointed at the chair he previously occupied. I understood now. “Yes, I doubted you thought tavers would be so fruitful. I want three chairs custom made,” Winston said with a giggle. “I am after the chairs, they are indeed rare.”
“Wait, I am confused. I thought we could not be held to agreements beyond today?” I asked.
“True, you would be honor bound, not contract bound. Contract-wise, your end of
the bargain would be fulfilled. I am taking a risk. Why I asked for three instead of one.” Winston sent a spark of electricity from his translator to mine.
There was a contract for a map of the market, plus a chair for information already given. A side note indicated that we agreed to the future delivery of three chairs with the return of the original. I agreed to the terms. The chair behind Winston vanished without a shimmer or any indication of the how. The mysteries of the peaceful overlords.
I went to shake his hand and he shook his head. “I will be in this location next golden portal. I hope to see my chairs. If you bring extras, I will buy them with rare minerals. Our planet does not habituate tavers. If I were you, I would purchase as many as you can. Making unique furniture is infinitely easier than digging rare metals.”
“I appreciate your time, Winston. Maybe later we can trade information for information. If I return, I expect to have your chairs,” I said and meant it.
“Until then, Cap.”
I waved and walked for the exit box across the hall. I had been touring the exterior of the market while waiting for updates, figuring it would be better than just waiting around with Goldie. I was transported to the gray grid room. My Gpad had reports from everyone inside the market, but instead I opened the map that Winston delivered. I wanted to sit in his chair that rocked in the storage area by the plants Jill traded for.
“Oh, I am surprised he gave you that information,” Goldie said the moment the file opened on my Gpad.
“Can you verify it?” I asked with a raised brow at my childhood goldfish. The market would manifest something you found endearing as a communication tool. I happened to have a giant version of a tri-tailed fish. They were limited in what they could disclose.
“No, I cannot. However, I can state that the being you call Winston thrives on selling information,” Goldie said with a smile. “It would harm his reputation to mislead others. He would avoid giving information before deceiving.”
I hefted the chair out of the storage roof to the exterior. The alerts kept pinging on my Gpad. I readied a send all.
“I have a working map of the market. Everyone return to Earth so we can decide what to buy.” - cap
I included the map with the message. My quick review of the alerts revealed a lot of information that was verified on the map. Perfect. Time to information dump this news to the community. I stepped through the shimmering golden portal.
Portals were magical to me. To some advanced alien species, they were science. I theorized I was broken down and recreated each time I shifted through a portal. I had this hunch it worked that way because there was a slight second where I felt nothing and only the color of the portal could be seen. When my vision returned, I saw Gary, our builder, and Bradley, our firefighter, waiting with a truck bed stuffed full of old electronics.
I smiled; they waved. A new message was sent out to the entire community, including the other strongholds.
“We at Stronghold Mansion want all humanity to succeed. With that in mind, here is a layout of today’s market, with price lists and costs. I see it even has current conversion ratios. Subject to change, good luck.” - Captain King Eric, Stronghold Mansion
Gary walked over while tossing a thumb over his shoulder. “You want this into the portal?”
“Go over first and get your translator. Then Bradley will go, but yes. Just toss it in. There is a sapient AI in there. Maybe an actual being. Not sure,” I said with a confused shrug. I walked over to the truck bed. DVDs, gaming systems, stereos from cars, old batteries, and even a projector TV. I started chucking items into the gate. “Anyway, we toss in the items and they will be sorted for us on a shelf. Really neat.”
Gary stepped into the light without a qualm. When he vanished, a body appeared right as I tossed a cell phone. Whap! I nailed Perci in the boob with the phone.
“Ouch, what the fuck, Eric. Right on the nipple,” Perci complained.
I let out an eek as she chased me for payback. Additional team members returned to pick up my slack. I let Perci catch me and she slugged my arm. I kissed her boob through her bra and shirt.
“Sorry, we should gently place items in when we know people may be coming out,” I said while rubbing my arm. “Or throw them over five feet high.”
“Hey, I get it. I’m short. There is so much to buy I don’t know where to start,” Perci said with a grunt.
Willow exited with Nancy. The two were getting closer lately. They walked arm in arm toward Perci and me. When they were near I said, “A good offense is your best defense. If we can find long-range, accurate weapons then we might be able to end a fight before it starts. I have not even dove into looking at—”
“What the fuck, Cap,” Gary shouted while rubbing his translator. “Could warn a guy.”
“I thought I did?” I replied with furled eyebrows. The translator was installed with brief pain that vanished once the device was firmly set.
Perci typed out a send-all message.
“Everyone needs to get translators. It will hurt but the pain is short.” - Perci
“Okay, sorry, Gary. I need the rest of you to go in now. Hurry up; you’re doing a second run once this is over.”
I went to the bed of the truck. My cybernetic hand grasped an old Vboxseven. The elbow rotated at an unnatural angle as I chucked the device high into the portal. My robotic arm flung the old electronic items faster than a human hand ever could. Gary, Bradley, and three helpers squeezed into the truck with new translators on. I went to the passenger’s side where Gary was studying the market map.
“Gary, I have no idea what you need. Let me know if you find vital items,” I said to the man, who never looked up.
“Eric, this has competing prices and everything. I will give it a look. No idea what half this stuff does. I did already find wooden boards in sheet size for sale. Can we toss in a tree and get plywood?” Gary asked with his eyes lighting up.
“If we can turn concrete mix on the bottom of sign poles into bricks, then I bet we can. The problem is, will trees hamper our limit?” I said with a pause. We were not far from a copse of thirty trees a few hundred feet away from the Xgate. “Would you want plywood over trusses?”
“Umm… hell no. So much to think about. I will come up with something while we drive. Take us out, Bradley,” Gary said. The whine of the electric motor was minimal as they jostled over the rough terrain.
The rest of my teams exited the portal. I waved them over to form a group. Before I could address them, my Gpad rang. I was being invited to a group call from Mayor Isaac, the Cornerstore Stronghold leader, and Colonel Reinhardt, the Aspen Stronghold leader. I accepted while Perci continued gathering our troops into a talk.
“Gentlemen, is there a problem?”
“No, we are saying thank you. You not only divided our looting lines fairly without fighting, but you also gave us vital information. So thank you,” Isaac said. The man had aviator sunglasses over his dark face, with salt-and-pepper hair. It was clear he was driving as his background zoomed by.
Colonel Reinhardt was the typical military man. Short-cut hair and a stern, shaved face that went well with his urban fatigues. He shifted into a smile. “I will admit you are exceeding my expectations. Even after I bought all the dockens, as we call the large chickens. So, is there a side cost? Nothing is ever actually free.”
“Peace among the three of us. That is my goal, and what I hope to buy. I killed enough humans to haunt a man for a lifetime. I… I… Peace.” My words may have stumbled, but my message hit home. Both men frowned but nodded.
My time in Saudi Arabia changed me. Our three strongholds had a common goal: survival. We had a common enemy in starvation, raiders, and fulfilling our general needs. I felt together we would stand a better chance than fighting each other.
“I need to figure out what to buy. I will update the market list if we buy something out,” I told my two counterparts. “Happy looting. Cap out.”
I closed the connec
tion. The lush green grass was trampled under my boots. The bright sunny day with scattered clouds gave a warm spring feeling. Birds trilled in the distance, not caring there was a massive Xgate in the rolling field. I stuffed my hands into my pockets and rejoined the group.
“I am saying if the Cap wants long range, a gravity sled is the answer. They hit hard, use solar to recharge, and have little downside besides minimal rounds fired per day. Hell, we can even blast trees out of the ground with these,” Larry, a recent addition from the Aspen refugee camp, said.
A buxen gravity sled was pulled up on my Gpad. I looked it over. A thousand road signs in cost. Or about thirty cell phones. Wow, not bad.
“How is this possible at this price?”
“Earth, apparently, was really good at extracting rare raw materials. Think about trying to do that post-Xgate arrival. You would have to travel for days to a dig site. Dig while exposed to raiders, then make it home. The entire process would change every eleven days when new aliens swap into blue-portaled Xgates. The ability to dig away from a stronghold makes it hard. These gravity tanks do not require many rare materials,” Willow said.
She swapped the image to a rifle of some kind. There was a rock container on the back of the weapon. I used my index finger to rotate the image. The more I studied the weapon, the less sense it made.
“There are a lot of heavy-chitin animals, aliens, and pets that we will face. Plasma is the answer for them. At least, that’s what the gun dealer told me. These speed-projectile guns may counter hard shells. It depends on the species. The peeblenator takes a small rock, melts it down in plasma, then propels the round forward with electricity. The plasma lasts about a hundred rounds depending on how much altering the ammunition needs. The electricity will persist for about a dozen shots before it needs a recharge. You can swap packs or plug a power charger into our battery system. Leaving it out in the sun will also recharge it. These are sniper rifles better than a fifty caliber that uses rocks for ammo. The only issue is the plasma. Simple to store, but expensive to buy.”
