Windjammer: The Tradership Saga Book 1

by M J Gauntlet

  After making the blunder of dispatching his attackers without wearing his mimic gloves, he didn’t want to compound the mistake by having the authorities link their deaths to this building. He was sure that they were part of a local gang and would be identified as such by the police, who would most likely they would write it off as gang on gang violence. In such cases, the local authorities seldom took the time to bring in expensive sweepers and sniffers on such a low priority case.

  With a grunt, he decided to accelerate his timetable. Walking up to the vestibule, he scanned the faded directory and pressed the call numbers on the antique button pad. He felt the slight tingle on his gloved index finger that told him that the pseudo skin had absorbed traces of DNA from whomever had used the pad just before him.

  “Ca…ca…can I help y…you...” a tinny mechanical voice began, only to be immediately interrupted.

  “Messer Grayson, I thought I made it clear that…” a peeved sounding voice began, then abruptly ceased as the foyer camera above him whirred and focused on the figure standing before it.

  “Excuse me sir, but do you have an appointment?” the new voice said, in a professional tone.

  “No, I do not…Ms. Alicia Wilkerson Esq. is it? I do hope I shall have the pleasure of making your acquaintance. I am here on a business matter that I believe will be to our mutual benefit. My card…” with that, he shoved a voucher worth five thousand eunits into the scanner beneath the speaker. There was a moment’s pause, then he heard the click of the door release. Smiling, the man walked through the portal.

  Passing through the second doorway, the man seemed to take no notice of the opulence of the inner office. Ignoring the archaic mechanical receptionist, he walked straight up to female simulacrum and offered his hand. Glancing down at the bare palm and backhand, she saw no identifying planetary tattoos. Nodding her head in greeting, she offered the man a seat.

  “I see you are from off-world and I must admit I am a little curious as to how you found your way to me, Messer…” she said, pausing as she sat down opposite of him.

  “You can call me Mr. Hunter, and to answer your question, we have a mutual acquaintance, a one Zaxxion Grayson. The young man who has just left,” he said, in a straightforward manner as he leaned forward. “Ms. Wilkerson, I’m a man who believes in being as forthright as possible. I would like to put you on a rather generous retainer, so that you can provide me with assistance while I am on planet. To be frank, I arrived here by following that young man who has just left, and all I want is the most basic of information concerning him, simply put: where he is headed and for what reason.”

  Startled, the android started to rise in indignation, but Hunter put up his right hand, forestalling her outraged replay.

  “Of course, I realize that what I’m requesting of you is slightly unethical, but I am willing to offer you a very generous recompense for the information.” With that, he placed three Imperial placards, worth ten thousand units each, on the table between them.

  The android’s eyebrows rose, and it actually licked its lips, moistening them as she stared down at the chits.

  “I must say, Ms. Wilkerson your avatar is the most life-like I have ever encountered. It is quite remarkable.”

  The comment seemed to snap Alicia out of her daze and her eyes seemed to refocus on the man sitting next to her.

  “That is a lot of money for such a basic amount of information and it does require a lot of units to maintain my chosen lifestyle,” she responded, looking around at her surroundings. After a thoughtful pause, she slowly shook her head in the negative. “But…I do have some integrity Mr. Hunter and as his attorney it would be highly unethical to reveal any information about my client without his approval. I’m so sorry.”

  Mr. Hunter sighed, and offered a drawn smile, “To tell the truth, I am glad to see that there is still some integrity left in the world.” Reaching down, he picked up his briefcase and sat it on his lap as though to open it. “But, maybe there is something more I can do to change your mind Ms. Wilkerson.”

  “I’m afraid not Mr. Hunter, now if…” the android had started to rise when Hunter, still sitting, pressed a stud on the case’s latch. There was a shrill whine that rose in pitch, and when it reached its ear-splitting apex, it ended with an intensely bright flash as the highly illegal mini- EMP embedded in the case released its charge. Several things happened at once:

  The android halted in mid speech, then stiffly tilted forward until it hit the floor with a loud thump. This was followed by a bright flash, which caused the room to undergo a remarkable renovation. A strobing flicker passed through the entire room causing the ornate pillars, the paintings on the walls, and the domed ceiling to rapidly disappear and then re-appear. Everything finally dissolved completely, leaving behind bare walls, cracked columns, and a plain unadorned roof. Yet this wasn’t the most startling transformation, the portrait festooned rear wall suddenly vanished, revealing a huge hospital bed, upon which reclined a grotesque human form.

  The body must have weighed over two hundred and seventy kilograms and was covered with thousands of hair thin leads, which trailed upwards into a large black sphere positioned directly over the blubbery mass of heaving flesh. There were, what looked like, suction devices attached to each of her (at least it looked like a female) enormous breasts, and a flexible tubular probe of some kind disappeared between her thighs. Surrounding the bed were a bevy of devices: micro-bots, fluid filled bags (some of which were clear, while others contained a brownish liquid) and various monitoring appliances. All the devices were now powered down and quiescent.

  A gasping moan escaped from flaccid lips as the helpless figure turned its puffy eyes in Hunter’s direction. The fear filled, watery eyes were the same hue as those of the android. They followed Hunter as he rose off the couch and walked toward the defenseless figure.

  “Now Ms. Wilkerson, let me ask you my questions again….

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Zax returned to his hotel after his meeting with Ms. Wilkerson and sat down in one of the lobby’s plush overstuffed chairs. He was on the last day of his forty- eight-hour hotel stay, courtesy of the police department, and was undecided as to his next course of action. The same night clerk from the previous evening, was visually giving him the once over, but Zax was too deep in worried thought to notice. After tonight, he wasn’t sure what his plans would be. It was nearly the end of the Tenday week and he was due back at work this upcoming Firstday. But what reason did he have to go back to work? Now that his dad and most of his possessions were gone, it didn’t make sense to keep working himself to death for Large Ass Slater.

  All he had left was a beat-up second-hand floater and a safe deposit key card, that at most only held a few sentimental trinkets his father had put away and long forgotten. Blowing out a puff of air through his cheeks, he decided he could at least spend this next night in relative comfort. First, Zax checked to see how much of the police credit chit he could exhaust, beginning with ordering a sumptuous room service meal on the police’s tab. Having made up his mind to throw caution to the winds, he walked up to the charming night manager, presented his hotel chit and asked the her to send up an order of two sand lobsters, an organic steak (none of that reconstituted meat for him), and a chocolate mousse made with real imported off-world chocolate. The night manager looked over his rather plain attire, slightly raised her eyebrows, took the chit, and slotted it. There was a muted ping causing her eyebrows to climb further up her forehead. This time when she smiled at him, her smile was genuine.

  “Yes, sir. Right away sir, and if I may be so bold, I would like to suggest that you take advantage of our vast selection of first-rate hotel wines to complement your meal. I suggest a Bright Cordon de Blanc, a favorite of mine. It would all be credited to your room.

  “You know I think I will add that. Thank you…er… Ms. McAlister wasn’t it?” Zax squeaked, as he felt his mouth remembering how to smile again. Jinn’s infectiously, cheery disposition,
slightly eased the painful heaviness he felt in his heart. A heaviness that threatened to overtake him and push him into deep depression, as the incredible events of past two days began to sink in.

  “No problem at all sir, and if there is anything, we can do for you to make your stay more comfortable, please let us know, and please… call me Jinn.”

  “Well…Jinn…” Zax began hesitantly, “that’s an awful lot of food and I’d hate to eat it alone. Nor am I a good judge of wine. Do you think you might know someone who might want to share it with me?”

  “No sir,” she said, her face looking businesslike. “But in about a half hour, when I’m off duty, I think I might know of someone who would be delighted,” she added, as her face relaxed into a mischievous a grin. “But you might want to make it just one sand lobster. You wouldn’t want to get too full, now would you?” she asked, with a shy smile. Zax cleared his throat as he smiled back at her. Maybe things were looking better already.

  Zax woke up with the feeling that something was crawling along his chest. Blinking the sleep out of his eyes, he looked down to see the grinning face of Jinn McAlister, the hotel’s night shift clerk. Pleased, he took her palm kissed it, noticing the tattoo. Jinn saw the look and frowned slightly.

  “Please don’t tell me you are one of those ‘Firster’, ‘Laster’ idiots.” When he didn’t answer right away, her frowned deepened. “I hate those assholes. Seriously, what does it matter if you have some god forsaken tattoo on your palm or backhand. As a matter fact, why should it matter if you have a tat at all? Well fuck ‘em.” Zax sat up in the bed bemused. She obviously was one of the ‘Firsters’ she was railing against, so what made her so venomous against her own class?

  “I want to bet that your ‘Firster’ supervisor, what was his name again? Lard Ass, or something like that, was one of the ones who drew a plot of land somewhere atop a mountain, right?”

  “Well actually, it was in the middle of the Sacrum desert, absolutely useless,” Zax said, laughing, “He sure whined about it enough.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I figured. It is always the ones who get the shaft, that suddenly point the finger and make it a ‘Lasters’ fault. I can hear him now: ‘Fucking Lasters, they’re the ones who keep diluting the LAG pool.’ Never mind that somehow, it is always a ‘Firster’ that tends to get the best vacant plots. Nor, do they care about the hell a resident has to go through, just to become a nationalized citizen, just to be eligible for the lottery!” Jinn retorted angrily, as her tirade became louder and louder.

  She stopped, when she saw the bemused look on Zax’s face, then chortled.

  “Sorry about the rant,” she said sheepishly, “but both my parents were ‘backhanders’ and they had to give up their spot in the lottery, to be able to afford the costs of my naturalization. Luckily, they both made it. It’s the only reason why I now have a palm tattoo, instead of a backhand one like yours. As a little girl, I would sometimes catch them covertly trying cover their hands out of embarrassment, and it sorta got to me I guess.” With a loud sigh her eyes softened, and she laid back down on top of his bare chest.

  Softly moving her hands, she said, “C’mon lazy man, get up.” Feeling no response, she began tickling the hairs on his chest. “Although after last night I can see why you might feel a little knocked out,” Jinn added, with a knowing smile. “I know I’m a little wobbly in the knees.” She gave a slight tug on one of the tightly curled blonde chest hairs, eliciting a soft grunt from Zax.

  “You know,” she continued saying, “I wasn’t sure that you were what you looked like. So many people today think it is fashionable to have the Nubian look. They will darken their skin and dye their hair blond, as a fashion statement. But when I saw that you ‘cuffs’ matched your… em…’collars, I realized that you were the real thing.” She looked into his eyes and blushed, (he thought it looked sexy on her) “I must admit I found it a little of a turn on when I saw that you really were the real deal,” Jinn said huskily. Then seeing the confused look on his face, she rolled her eyes in exasperation and pushed down on his chest, “A Nubian, silly!”

  Yawning luxuriously, she stretched out her well- proportioned frame atop of his and began nibbling on his ear.

  “You know you really know how to make a girl feel wanted,” she said, whispering into his ear, “That was quite a…rugged experience.” She looked up and saw a note of apprehension cross Zaxxion’ face. She quickly shook her head and grinned , “No…no, believe me, it was kinda nice to be feel desired like that. Most men will yammer on telling you the things they think you want to hear when you are in the sack with them. You don’t talk much, but you made me feel that you would consume me if you could. It was very, very nice, believe me. It was almost as though I was the only woman in the world, as though it was both our first time…” She stopped talking when she felt, rather than saw, his heart skips a beat. Putting both hands on his chest, she pushed herself up erect and considered his face. This time, it was Zax who was blushing.

  “Don’t tell me…” she paused for a moment, “that I was…that this was…” she began to stutter. Her eyes went wide and then she smiled dreamily.

  “Wow!” she exclaimed. “If that was your first time, I’m not sure I want to be around when you finally grow into that body of yours,” Jinn finished saying, with a wide- eyed invitation.

  “Well actually,” he began reaching around and grabbing her buttocks, “I was hoping you would stick around for the second time.” With a mischievous smile, Zax drew her close. Jinn laughed and with another giggle, she dove under the covers.

  Two hours later, Zax was awakened by a soft chiming. He rose to find the spot next to him empty. Sleepily, he raised his head and noticed that the sound was coming from the hotel’s holotab, which was propped up on the desk with a message on its screen. Sliding out of the bed, he went over and read it.

  “Dear Zax, I don’t know what time you need to get up and go to the bank, but if you are as worn out as I am, then I figured I had better set your alarm. Call me when you have finished your business. I put my number in your pad under ‘personal’.” Jinn’s image sexily winked at him as the message ended.

  Zax smiled contentedly, then abruptly looked at time displayed on his tablet.

  “Shit,” he exclaimed out loud, “it’s later than I thought.”

  Quickly, Zax jumped into the fresher, then hurried over to the clothes valet cabinet, removed his freshly cleaned jumpsuit, and put it on. Throwing his rucksack over his shoulders, he exited the room and headed for the lifts back down to the lobby. In the lobby, he walked over to the check-in desk (a different clerk was there, of course) and handed his chit to the man. The clerk took it, placed it in a receptacle that pinged after a second or two. With a deft move, he then removed the chit and placed it in a receptacle to his left. Noticing Zax’s confused frown, the clerk gave him a conciliatory look and smiled.

  “As I’m sure you are aware, the time stamp on this chit has expired. We are obliged to return it to the issuing party. If you would like, we can generate an itemized bill for your records.” When Zax nodded in the affirmative, there was an almost inaudible whirring sound and a short sheet of plasticine emerged from the top of the desk. Tearing it off, the clerk offered it to him. Zax took the thin sheet, folded it and put it in the top pocket of his jumpsuit. As he turned to leave, the clerk tapped his console then turned back to Zax.

  “It shows here that you have a floater parked in the garage. Were you planning to leave it there, or will you be taking it with you? I must inform you, that additional charges will be accrued if it is there past second sunset.”

  Zax hesitated for a moment. The Imperial bank in Plex was too far away by floater. He had intended to leave it at the hotel and then retrieve it after his trip to the capital, but now decided against it. He wasn’t sure how it was going to be at the bank, or how long he would be in Plex, so he might as well have the floater with him.

  “I think I will take the floater with me, tha
nk you for your courtesy,” Zax said.

  “Of course, sir,” the clerk replied. “If there is any way we can be of further assistance, please let us know and thank you for choosing the Westland Hotel.”

  Zax went to the garage and stepped up to retrieve his floater. After first checking its charge meter to make sure it was reading full, he reached down, disconnected the recharge plug and watched it retract into the floater’s rear compartment. Reaching behind the seat, he depressed a green button and the seat and its support rods, slowly began to collapse, folding down to lay flat inside the floater’s base. Zax then hefted up the floater and turned a dial on its upper side, to the first notch. The floater emitted a low-pitched thrum and Zax could feel it becoming lighter in his arms. Its countergrav generator reduced the floater’s weight. That, along with its now compact size made it easy for him to sling it over his shoulder, without too much discomfort. He thought about giving Jinn a call but decided that he should first find out about whatever it was that was waiting for him at the bank.