Windjammer: The Tradership Saga Book 1

by M J Gauntlet

  After a quick inspection, Zax looked back at the tattoo festooned man with a big grin. “Looks like everything is still here! Even the expensive micro tools! It’s strange that they go through all that trouble to get the damn thing, only to throw it down like that.”

  “Not so strange really. From the amount of blood, the smaller fellow was spilling, you must have hurt him badly. I guess they simply ditched the bag, so they could make better time to the hospital,” M’Lak said, with a shrug.

  “Yeah, you are most likely right. Say, I want to thank you Messer…?” Zax said, pausing.

  “M’Lak, M’Lak Van Drayton. Think nothing of it, Messer…?” M’Lak replied.

  “Oh…sorry, the name is Zax, er, Zaxxion… McCloud,” he said hesitantly, suddenly remembering the name on his fake ID. As he spoke with the stranger, Zax had the oddest sensation that he had meet the man before. Taking a longer look at him, what he saw was a rather unremarkable, short and pudgy looking individual. He looked ordinary and unassuming. If it weren’t for the tattoos festooned over his arms and hands, he would not be noticed in a crowd.

  “Well think nothing of it young Zaxxion, I am sure anyone would have done the same,” Van Drayton said, taking a seat on one of the empty lounge chairs, slightly to the left and behind Zax.

  “M’Lak Van Draytonton?” Humm…that’s Marcosian, isn’t it?”

  “Why yes, it is. Most people would not have caught the inflection, very good. But please don’t let that distress you unduly, we are not all the monsters the Imperium makes us out to be,” M’Lak said, with a slight bow of his head. A tiny alarm bell was sounding in the back of Zax’s mind, but he was so relieved to have his possessions back, he ignored it.

  “I tend to make up my own mind about such political matters, sir. While the articles in the backpack were not totally irreplaceable, I am glad to have them back.” Then mimicking something he had seen in a Tri-D documentary on the Marcosians, Zax stood at attention, bowed slightly from the waist and touched his breast with his right hand and brought it to his forehead, touching it with the first three fingers. “I am in your debt, Shirr De ‘Dray. If there is anything that…”

  “STOP!” Van ‘Drayton said loudly, suddenly bolting to his feet. Confused, Zax abruptly snapped his mouth shut.

  “I am sorry for shouting at you like that, but you were about inadvertently place yourself in a debt of honor to myself, and this I cannot permit,” M’Lak said, sternly.

  “Wha…? I’m sorry but I thought that was the proper phrasing and gesture to express my appreciation of your efforts on my behalf. Forgive me if I have offended you,” Zax said apologetically.

  Holding up his hands, Van Drayton suddenly smiled and waved off the apology. “I’m sorry if I startled you, but Marcosians do not take a debt of honor lightly. What I did in recovering your possessions was far too trivial for you to commit yourself in such a manner. If I would have allowed you to finish the ritual, then it would have put us both under certain obligations of which I am afraid that I cannot, at this time, commit to.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to…” Zax stammered, taken aback.

  “Tut, tut. Think nothing of it, your heart was in the right place and I appreciate the sentiment.”

  That was close! If he had finished the ceremonial phrase, then I would be honored bound to spare his life until he fulfilled his ‘obligation’ to me! M’Lak thought.

  “So, tell me young Zaxxion, where are you off to, if I may ask?”

  “Plato,” Zax replied, with a wan smile. “Ah Plato is it? You are a scholar then?”

  “No, actually this will be my first-time off planet,” Zax admitted.

  “Really? Well if this is your first time, you should not waste it on a dull world like Plato! You should go to Vegas or even Fortune if you want to have some fun.”

  “I wish I could afford to visit one of the pleasure planets, but alias, my finances dictate otherwise,” Zax said wistfully.

  “So why, may I ask, are you wasting your time on a dried-up dust ball like Plato? Pardon me for saying so, but you don’t exactly look like the scholarly type.” Seeing the beginnings of a frown appearing on Zax’s face, Van Drayton placatingly raised his hands. “Sorry, sorry. I am being nosey. It is really none of my business.”

  “No, it’s alright. It’s just that I’ve been asking myself the same question over the past few days. Let’s just say that there is sort of an obligation that I have to fulfill and leave it at that.”

  “Humm…obligation is it? Yes, I do understand. We Marcosians understand all about obligation,” as he said this, M’Lak slowly reached nonchalantly beneath his cloak. “So, I’m guessing that after you fulfill your responsibility, you will be heading back here? Or do you plan to see the galaxy, as the travel adverts say so often.”

  “No, it is more in the nature of having to deliver something to an old friend of my father’s. It is a bit complicated, I’m afraid,” Zax said finally, turning his back to Van Drayton to watch the trader shuttle’s final unloading.

  “Ah…I see…yes, those types of debts can be quite… demanding,” Van Drayton said, in a quiet whisper, as he began to slowly withdraw his energy needler from beneath his cloak. M’Lak had been waiting to hear that last proclamation from his target. He was now sure that the object the Restoration Worlds searched for was indeed on his quarry.

  Finally, I can end this mission and get back to my home stars. M’Lak thought, as he put his finger on the trigger of his needler.

  “Which one of you is the passenger for the

  Windjammer?” a voice said, from behind them.

  Startled, M’Lak hurriedly shoved his weapon back into the folds of his cloak, as he and Zax turned to face the source of the unexpected question.

  The voice belonged to one of two individuals standing behind both Zax and M’Lak, who had stepped through a loading tube that was now open behind them. Dressed in the long, one-piece, color coded, spacer attire. Each was armed with a blaster, attached to a wide belt around their hip. The shoulder patching on their arms identified them as crew personnel of the Windjammer. The person speaking was a rather cute pixie of a woman, who looked like she just jumped out of some forest glade. Her long silver white hair was tied back into a braided ponytail, which accentuated her small pointed ears indicative of the people on her home planet of Xavier. She was facing both of them with her hands on her hips and an impatient look on her face. The other spacer looked as though he barely weighted seventy-five kilos, but something about the way he held himself and the fact that his blaster had a worn, used look about it, made Zax think that this was not the person to mess with.

  Half raising his hand, Zax stepped forward. “That would be me. Excuse me but I’m a bit confused.” Turning to point at the shuttle in front of him, he turned back. “Isn’t that the Windjammer’s shuttle over there?”

  “What that bucket of bolts?” the pixie faced young woman said derisively, “Naw that’s the Piquard, a corp shuttle. That’s the Windjammer back there,” she replied, while thumbing her hand back over her shoulders.

  Watching the Piquard’s majestic decent, Zax neglected to look behind him and missed the Windjammer’s shuttle arrival. The terminal portal marked ‘Berth 17” was now lit and the boarding podium had activated. Looking through the rear bubble, his heart sank. Behind him was a dull, battered looking spherical shape. It too had its cargo ramp extended, but where the Piquard was being loaded via contragrav surface transport fields, the Windjammer’s hold was unloading its cargo using what looked like an old-fashioned conveyer belt. As he watched, the loading arm that was placing a sealed cargo container on the belt seemed to jam, interrupting the loading cycle.

  Van Drayton was eyeing the two crewmen with a calculating gaze. The thin crewman’s hand wandered over to rest on the butt of his blaster as he returned M’Lak’s stare. Just then, another voice could be heard down the ship’s boarding tube.

  “Pilar! Have you located our passenger yet? T
hat damn loader arm has jammed again, and you are the only one that seems to know how to talk to the damn thing. The captain wants to get underway, so we can leave this rock as soon as we have unloaded our cargo and have boarded the passenger.” This was said by a very beefy man, sporting a comic, opera mustache, as he walked up to join Pilar and Santo.

  “Keep your shirt on Brax, I just located him,” Pilar said, in a voice that was now deep and gruff. Her companion had not uttered a single sound but was watching the Marcosian with a curious intensity. Turning back to face Zax, Pilar’s voice changed back into its melodic timber.

  “Please pardon me Messer…” she paused to consult the boarding screen on the podium, “McCloud, is it? Yes. Well, please excuse the haste, but the captain wants you to board as soon as possible. If you would give me your boarding pass, and insert you Identity card in the slot, Santo here will help you with your luggage. My name is Pilar Graff, I am the supercargo for this landfall, and I will show you to your cabin, aboard ship. If you will just tell Santo where your luggage is, he will bring it to your cabin after it is inspected.”

  “This is the only bag that I will be taking,” Zax said, hefting the rucksack up and handing it towards Santo.

  “Just put it there on the ground, sonny. I will get to it in a minute,” he said, never taking his eyes from the Marcosian.

  Turning to shield his movement from the two spacers, Zax surreptitiously slipped the force blade out of his pocket, into the side flap of the rucksack. He lowered the bag to the ground, then turned and stuck out his hand to Van Drayton’s. “Thank you for your help, sher Van Drayton, I bid you farewell,” Zax intoned, using the formal form of Marcosian address. Instead of taking Zax’s hand, the Marcosian gave a little bow.

  “Safe journeys to you, young sher. Who knows, in a universe so vast, it is possible that we might meet again, the Goddess willing,” M’Lak Van Drayton said, then with a quick motion, he turned and walked rapidly down the terminal way towards the spaceport’s main lounge, leaving Zax standing with the Windjammer’s three crew members. All during the exchange, Zax noticed that both Santo and Brax had not taken their eyes off Van Drayton until he was well out of sight, Santo then turned and picked up Zax’s rucksack, while Brax headed back up the tunnel to the stalled belt.

  “That was a Marcosian, wasn’t it?” Santo said, as though he had a vile taste in his mouth. Then without waiting for an answer, he hefted Zax’s rucksack over his shoulder and after giving Zax a parting look of slight distain, walked over to the stilled conveyer belt and then walked on it, into the bowels of the ship.

  “Don’t give Santo no mind, Messer McCloud. It’s nothing personal. He has a bug up his ass when it comes to Marcosians, ever since the Polar Mar incident. Santo lost some family there. Now could we move it along, please?” Pilar said hurriedly.

  Zax blinked once at the pixie face, then started. “Oh… sure…of course,” he stuttered, then presented Pilar with his boarding pass and fished out his ID card. Praying to the gods, he inserted it into the podium and waited. Almost immediately, its surface flashed green and extruded the card back into his hand.

  “Great, you are now ready to board. If you will follow me, I will get you to your cabin,” Pilar said quickly, almost jogging down the tubeway. “Forgive me if I’m a bit rushed, but I have to get you to your cabin, and then get back down to the cargo bay and fix that damn loading arm. We need to leave this rock and make one in system cargo delivery, before heading out to Plato. The captain wants to make sure that we reach Plato on schedule, if not ahead of time. We have just taken on a consignment that has a time bonus and/or penalty attached to it, so she is taking no chances and that méi pì yòng loading arm is putting us behind.” Zax smiled as he recognized the often-used Mandarin phrase for “useless”. Pilar stopped her monolog and smiled back a Zax (it was a pretty smile, he thought). “But that’s not really your concern, now, is it?” Pilar finished saying, over her shoulder. Wearing a slightly dazed look Zax shook his head, then found himself almost running to catch up with Pilar’s rapidly disappearing frame.

  The noise outside of the terminal might have momentarily stunned the average person, but to Zax it was a familiar, almost comforting sound. Having worked the past four years in the drydock, his ears have been bombarded by noise much louder than that. Wealthy passengers on the midliners and highliners were spared the deafening cacophony of sound by boarding through the soundproofed gangways. Trading ships who viewed passengers as more of a nuisance than a source of income, could not afford such luxuries.

  As Zax passed the spaceship’s landing struts, he saw the supercargo Pilar waiting in what looked like an ordinary lift elevator. She moved to one side, allowing him just enough room to fit in. Once he had squeezed in, she pressed an oversized green button. The door slid shut and the lift gave one initial jerk then smoothly ascended into the shuttle’s interior, evoking a startled look of surprise from Zax.

  Pilar looked at his face and snickered. “I see you haven’t been on a tradership in port before. Surprised that this is a mechanical lift, instead of a gravlift, right kid?” Zax swallowed his amazement and nodded. “Well, if you must know, while any object is using contragrav, any other object also using a contragrav field will interfere with their operation. The larger the field, the greater the interference on the lesser object.”

  “Oh, I knew that. I used to work at a space field, but I thought that spaceships had contragrav compensators to minimize the effect,” Zax said offhandedly. Pilar raised her eyes in mild surprise.

  “True, true. But besides generating heat, compensators are costly because they consume fuel. While in port or in drydock, the compensators are used by the mid and highliners to keep their passengers comfortable, and traders must use them in drydock so that the maintenance crews can work around them, but since we are not in drydock and you are the only passenger for this trip, they have been turned off,” she said eying him sideways, then continued speaking.

  “First time on a starship, huh kid?”

  Slightly annoyed by her constantly referring to him as ‘kid’, Zax started to say that he had worked on starships that were much bigger than the Windjammer, but not wanting to offend her, he only nodded his head in agreement.

  “Don’t sweat it kid, there is always first time for everything. When we get to your cabin and you get your gear stowed away, and maybe if there is time and the captain gives her ok, I can show you around the ol’ girl a bit,” Pilar said smiling.

  “Er…thanks, that would be nice,” he said, slightly ruffled at constantly being referred to as ‘kid’ by this slip of a girl.

  The lift stopped with a small jerk and the door slid open. Pilar stepped out first and started to walk briskly down the surprisingly narrow corridor. Zax exited the lift and quickly followed her. After a few turns, she stopped at a sealed door and pressed the entry plate set into the bulkhead, but the door remained shut. Frowning, holding her palm flat, she firmly pressed it again, but the portal did not open.

  “Windy?” she said into the air, “this is Pilar at passenger door A05, why won’t it open?”

  “I am sorry Pilar, but I am under direct orders from the captain to keep the cabin sealed until further notice. I am also instructed to tell you to bring Messer McCloud directly to the captain’s quarters as soon as possible,” a warm voice answered through her implant.

  With a small start, Pilar turned and looked up into Zax’s eyes.

  “Sorry Messer McCloud, it appears we might have to postpone that tour indefinitely,” she said, in an abrupt, flat voice.

  “Is there anything wrong?” Zax said, slightly alarmed at the change in her voice and the formal use of this name.

  “Dunno, but it looks like you may not be a passenger aboard this ship after all.” Slipping behind him, she motioned him to walk ahead of her, directing him where to turn. Alarmingly, Zax noticed that her hand was now resting on the butt of her sidearm. After a few turns, they reached another lift and she motioned him in,
then got in facing him this time. When the lift completed its short journey, Pilar backed out and motioned him over to a portal that opened as they approached.

  “In there Messer McCloud, Captain Ahosi is waiting for you,” she said, in that same flat voice.

  Captain Ahosi was a woman that looked to be about forty-five standard years of age, which meant in this era of age extending nanites, she could be almost double that age. She had warm olive toned skin, slanted hooded eyes and long, black hair with one vibrant streak of white hair, just to the left of midline, giving her a rakish look. Like Pilar’s, it too was swept back in a braided ponytail. Ahosi was sitting in a highbacked, swivel chair, behind a desk strewn with data chips, cards and discs. She didn’t rise to shake his hand, but instead gave Zax a curt nod.

  “Hello Messer McCloud, I am Koori Ahosi, Captain of the Windjammer, have a seat,” she said, indicating a rather plush chair to Zax’s right. Zax was uneasy at the way she said the name McCloud.

  “No thank you Ma’am, I will stand.”

  Ahosi’s eyes turned suddenly cold and there was heightened color in her face indicating her displeasure. “That wasn’t a request, young man. I’d rather not have you towering over me while we talk, so sit down. This might take a while. I have a few things I must discuss with you.”

  Crestfallen, Zax sat down and tried not to fidget while he waited for Captain Ahosi to continue.

  “Before I can let you continue to stay aboard my ship, there are a few things we need to address,” Ahosi said, staring levelly at Zax. “First…what is your real name Messer McCloud?” Zax startled, but before he could answer, she continued, “I know it is a common belief that traderships are lax when it comes to passenger identification, but that is a myth. If anything, we are more thorough than the bigger liners because having someone aboard a ship such as ours, who isn’t whom they say they are, is leaving oneself open to piracy.

  “The ID card you used has been imprinted with inaccurate data. It was good enough to pass the initial scan, but when cross-checked with the central planetary database it came up as ‘subject unknown’. Its ability to get past the initial scan, leads me to believe that it was issued by a planetary agency, rather than bought on the black market.”