Death Cultivator

by eden Hudson

  It wasn’t a long walk, but by the time we got to the main street, I was sweating up a storm and it felt like every piece of metal in the bag was drilling into my back. I shrugged it back up higher on my shoulder and followed the twins past buildings marked Sawbones, Stables, Distilling Co., Clothier, Dry & Gen Goods, and The Smoke and Silk Saloon.

  Rali dropped out of the group at the general store. Kest and I kept going down the road until we came to a nicer building with Universal Savings and Loan painted in gold lettering on the big front window.

  I let Kest’s bag drop onto the boardwalk. “So, when you said all the business in town is run by the local gang...”

  “You can trust USL,” she said. Then shrugged. “As far as you can trust any bank, anyway. They definitely have ties to the Big Five, but that’s every major bank in the universe. Since USL’s business is almost a hundred percent legitimate, having an account with them isn’t considered criminal activity. Anyway, they’re the only one with branches in every settlement on every known planet, so they’re going to be the most useful place to have an account if you ever get off this rock.”

  I nodded and hauled the bag full of metal inside behind her. A digital chime rang out as we walked in, and a cool, air-conditioned breeze blew across my skin, drying the sweat down my back. I shivered.

  There were three barred windows for transactions at the painted wood counter, but there was only one teller working. Some kind of humanoid with huge eyes, chalky gray skin, and six arms. With its green plastic visor, black string tie, and black vest over a longsleeved white shirt, it looked like a blackjack dealer at some intergalactic casino.

  “Howdy...Iye Skal Irakest.” The thing’s voice was female, but there was something not quite right about how her mouth moved while she talked. When the image glitched out for a second then came back, I realized what it was. She was a hologram. “Who’s your friend? I d-d-don’t have his face on file.”

  “Ursul, this is Grady Hake. He needs to set up an account. He’s never had one before.”

  “That explains it.” Her lips froze halfway between letters while she was talking, then sped up to catch up to what she’d said. She gestured a couple pairs of hands at a screen set into the wooden counter. “Place one of your hands on the data pa-pad, please.”

  I laid my hand out flat on it and waited. Nothing happened. Ursul looked frozen.

  “Connection’s not great today,” Kest said. “They’re probably having a solar storm somewhere that’s interfering. Try taking your hand off and doing it again.”

  I did.

  Ursul jumped back to life, and the data pad flashed red.

  “I’m not able to connect with your implant, Grady Hake,” she said. “Would you like to input the serial number manually?”

  “No,” I said. “I don’t have one.”

  “Would you like to register for a special implantation appointment with the Greater Universal Monitoring Community?”

  I didn’t like the sound of that.

  I must’ve made a face, because Kest said, “USL won’t report you if you say no. A lot of people get disconnected accounts and claim they don’t have an implant so creditors can’t trace them.”

  “Oh. Then I’ll pass.”

  Ursul didn’t blink a giant eye. “Would you like to link a HUD to your account today?”

  “Yeah,” I said, holding up my Winchester. “What do I need to do?”

  She leaned over and looked at the screen. Her huge black eyes started blinking blue, then stopped.

  “HUD link complete. How much will you be depositing in your account today, Grady Hake?”

  “Um...”

  “Just say zero,” Kest whispered.

  “Zero?”

  “Okay, I have one account for Grady Hake, b-b-blood type O, with a balance of zero credits, linked to Winchester Arms HUD serial number 0009926. Is everything correct?”

  I checked the number etched into the side of the HUD screen.

  “Yes.”

  “Thanks, Grady Hake, and welcome to the Universal Savings and Loan family, where we make your credits work for you!” She gave me a frozen smile, then looked at Kest. “Is there anything I can—” Her image glitched again. “—ything I can do for you today, Iye Skal Irakest?”

  “I need to withdraw a tenner in physical currency,” Kest said.

  There was some mechanical grinding inside the teller’s counter, then a section of counter flipped over, revealing a handful of silver coins the size of quarters. Kest scooped them off the edge into her hand.

  “That’s it,” she said.

  “Thanks for stopping by ... Iye Skal Irakest and ... Grady Hake,” Ursul said. “Y’all come back and see us real soon!”

  Back out on the street, I told Kest, “I’m starting to get why Rali doesn’t want to be part of this whole Big Brother thing.”

  “Rali’s not my big brother. He’s younger than me by eleven minutes.”

  “No, I just mean everything here wants to know everything about you. I feel like I got off lucky that she didn’t ask for my family tree to six generations and a fresh stool sample.”

  Kest shrugged. “It’s a system of trade-offs. Privacy for convenience.” Then she shook the coins in her fist. “Convenience for people whose brothers have their own bank accounts, anyway.”

  Rali was still at the general store when we got there, leaning on the counter and joking with the hunched reptilian guy behind it.

  “Here’s your payment now,” Rali said when he saw us. He rolled his eyes and hooked a thumb at the reptile. “Apek still isn’t accepting barter.”

  “Is ancient history,” Apek hissed. “Cash for goods is civilization.”

  “What do you even have to barter with?” Kest asked her brother.

  Sensing this was probably going to be a longer stop, I set down Kest’s million-pound bag of metal.

  “The compressor went out of Apek’s cold-air flow,” Rali said, grinning. “And I just so happen to know someone who can fix it.”

  That explained why it felt twice as hot in the general store as it had in the street. We’d only been there for a second, but already my pits were soaked. Apek didn’t seem to notice the heat—maybe he was an ectotherm like lizards on Earth—but Rali’s face and arms were lined with faint networks of black capillaries, and sweat trickled down his temples. Kest’s skin-lace was starting to fade in, too, around her eyes and the back of her neck, where fine hairs from her double messy-buns were sticking to her skin.

  “Yeah.” Apek jerked his head at Kest a couple times in a weird lizardlike nod. “You fix?”

  “You take service in trade for good?” Rali hissed back in a pretty decent imitation.

  Apek narrowed his flat eyes at the guy. “Store can’t take services in trade from non-OSS member. Can pay for outside work, though. If Kest fix.”

  “I can take a look at it,” Kest said. “If it’s the compressor, I can machine something. But if it’s the vapor, you’ll have to order a refill from the city. I’ve got to head over to the saloon right now, but I’ll come back by later and check it out.”

  “We negotiate price for service then,” Apek said.

  Rali sighed. “Pay the gentle-zard his misplaced trust’s worth in credits, Kest.”

  “How much?” she asked.

  “Two for broth cubes, one for rice flour, six for raw sugar cake,” Apek said, pointing a claw at the brown paper packages and small cloth bag lined up on the counter.

  Kest scowled. “Sugar was three credits last time we bought it.”

  “Had lots then.” Apek shrugged.

  “But Naph’s back. I just talked to him. Didn’t he bring you supplies?”

  “Space moth brought no sugar. Said Moyeaux had rolling drought destroy sugar cane on half the planet.”

  With a scowl, Kest dropped nine of the coins from the bank into the reptile’s outstretched paw, then turned to Rali and held out the last one. He wrinkled his nose like when he smelled those flesh boots th
e night before.

  “I don’t even want to sully my skin by touching it,” he said.

  “But you’ll spend six of them on sugar,” she muttered.

  “For sweet mochi. Hake said he’d never had any.”

  I put up my hands. “Hey, don’t drag me into this.”

  “Besides, you love mochi,” Rali said to his sister. “You know you’ll eat some, too.”

  Ignoring him, Kest turned to me. “Want a coffee drank?” I opened my mouth to say no thanks, but she kept talking, dumping a whole bunch of information out like she had earlier about the HUD. “I’m getting me one, and Apek doesn’t give out change for physical currency, so if you pass on yours, I’ll be wasting half a coin.”

  I shut my mouth. When she put it like that, I couldn’t say no without being a jerk, and I was pretty sure she knew it. Well, two could play at that game. I mentally added a credit to whatever I owed her for the Winchester.

  “I could go for some coffee,” I admitted. Normally, I’d have already gulped down a few cups of joe by then. Without it, the familiar no-caffeine headache was starting to set in at the back of my skull like a stiff neck that just wouldn’t pop. “Honestly, I’m really glad you guys have coffee here.”

  Apek blinked his flat eyes at me. “Course we have coffee! Think just because we in backwater-no water, Apek not carry essentials?”

  “He’s new in town,” Kest told the reptile, forking over her last coin. “Two out of the ice chest, please.”

  My forehead wrinkled up at that, because lukewarm coffee is nasty, even when it’s a million degrees outside, so I figured cold must be the worst thing ever. But caffeine was caffeine.

  The general store owner walked down behind the counter a ways, dragging a big crocodile tail behind him, and dug into a bulky wood-and-metal chest that looked like it should be holding the payroll on an old stagecoach. When he opened it, icy fog drifted over the sides. Like old iceboxes on Earth, a big block of ice sat inside, keeping everything cold. He pulled out a pair of sweating dark brown energy drink cans with COFFEE DRANK down the side in jagged yellow font.

  Understanding dawned on me. I’d thought Kest was just saying “drink” weird, like with an accent or something, but Coffee Drank was the brand name.

  “Here,” Apek grunted, coming back and shoving the cans across the counter.

  Kest popped the tabs on them, then handed me mine. I braced myself not to make a nasty face and took a drink. Instead of being lukewarm and gross, it was freezing cold with a little sweetness. Kind of like drinking iced tea, but with a smoky coffee taste instead.

  My eyebrows shot up. “This is actually pretty good.”

  “They’re my favorite,” Kest said.

  Apek pointed a claw at me. “You, new drop-off. You looking for work? Go see Cagua at saloon. He get you straight with OSS in no time. Say Apek send you.”

  “Thanks.” I definitely wasn’t going to do that.

  Rali grabbed his purchases, and with my free hand, I hauled Kest’s bag back up onto my shoulder, then we headed back out into the slightly less stifling street drinking icy-cold coffee from a can.

  Out Back of the Saloon

  KEST SAID HER SMUGGLING contact was waiting for us out back of the saloon, so I figured the meeting would go down like some back-alley deal, with the three of us skulking around in the dark, keeping a lookout for the law. When we came around the corner of the saloon, though, it was the exact opposite of dark and secluded. A huge crowd of aliens were gathered around a big chainlink cage, yelling and drinking and gambling.

  I strained up on my tiptoes and craned my neck to try to see around a ripped green alien. No luck. The dude was as tall and wide as a truck.

  “What is this?” I couldn’t see anything until a slimy-looking blue alien slammed into the roof of the cage, spewing blood and teeth out the side of his face. The crowd went nuts.

  “The OSS runs the fighting in Ghost Town,” Kest explained. “They have little miniature tourmanents every month or so to settle internal disputes and make money. It’s a good spot to meet without drawing attention.”

  “They’re the gang Apek wanted me to get in with,” I said.

  “That’s the way things usually work.” Kest took my empty and tucked it into a pocket of her bag.

  Rali shrugged. “New arrivals want to get in with a gang as fast as possible. It keeps them safe—well, safer than they would be unaffiliated—and earns them cash. Makes serving out their sentence a little more luxurious.” He leaned his cheek on his walking stick. “Everybody thinks something can save them.”

  “There’s Naph,” Kest said, looking at the spectators on the opposite side of the cage. “Come on.”

  I shrugged the billion-pound bag back onto my shoulder and followed her around the crowd.

  When I saw Kest’s smuggler friend, I realized why Apek had called him a space moth. A pair of fuzzy antennae stuck out of the guy’s head, and he had these huge black mothwings dotted with eyes and specks of color that looked like distant stars and planets. The dude attached to the wings wasn’t as impressive. He looked like some college douchebag, especially with the longneck in his hand and soul patch on his chin.

  “Irakest, as I live and respire,” he said, saluting her with the beer. His arms were so bony that his veins stood out in the backs of his hands and wrists. “Well met, pretty gal. What wonders of invention hast thou banked since I last laid eyes on thee?”

  It was the douchiest of douche greetings, but black lace filtered over Kest’s cheeks where a blush would go in a human, and she smiled at him.

  “It’s just the usual junk, Naph. I don’t have any special builds this time around,” she said, tucking some stray hair behind her ear. But talking about the bagful of junk seemed to remind her I was there, too. She turned to me. “Thanks for lugging that all the way out here, Hake.”

  The polite way to say, “I’m done with your services, packhorse. Hand over the goods and skedaddle.”

  “No problem.” I slung the bag off my shoulder and handed it over like it didn’t weigh a ton.

  I was hoping the space moth would grunt like it was heavy or lose his balance a little when he took it, but Naph didn’t even strain to hold it up. He gave the bag a shake to open the drawstring, then started digging through it.

  “Why, these are above the accustomed grade.” He hefted out the machete. “Even in haste, thy art is quality.”

  Kest tucked some stray hairs behind her ear. “It’s just some old junk I threw together.”

  Rali whispered to me, “Maketh thee want to vomit, doest it not?”

  “Yea, verily,” I said.

  “Hake and I are going to watch the violence up close so we can disapprove of it better,” Rali told his sister. He raised his walking stick to the douche. “Well met, Naph.”

  “May riches follow thee, Akarali,” Naph said, nodding. “And all the same to thee, Hake.”

  “And also with you,” I said back, bowing my head like it was a benediction.

  While Kest negotiated prices with the guy, Rali and I squeezed through the crowd until we were up against the cage. A big dude with tusks was whaling on a shark guy similar to the corpse Kest had taken those boots from in the shut-in.

  “Whoa,” I said, looking down in the cage. The floor was the top of a stone pillar, roughly oval red dirt and rock, and all around it was empty space. Way down below the floor, I could see sand and trees. “Is that a shut-in?”

  Rali nodded. “Technically, I think it’s called a slot canyon when it’s just a hole like this.”

  “What happens when one of them falls down there?”

  “They lose. That’s where most of the scavenge Kest finds comes from.”

  “People who broke their neck when they fell?”

  “Or who got lost trying to find their way out and starved. Or got crushed in a flash flood. Or killed by chaos creatures.” He gave me half a grin. “There’s a lot of ways to die down in the Shut-Ins.”

  The s
hark guy barreled into the guy with tusks, his mouthful of teeth slicing the dude to ribbons. The guy with tusks tried to get him back, but after that bloodletting he was on his last legs. A big hook punch to the jaw sent him tumbling over the side into the canyon. I flinched away and shut my eyes, my stomach flipping, but I still heard him hit rock on the way down.

  The crowd roared with approval.

  A guy wearing a bowler hat, wifebeater, black pants, and suspenders walked out on a wood plank to the stone oval. A huge pair of spectral arms grew out of his shoulders, as ripped as if they’d come off the ghost of a bodybuilding giant. One grabbed the shark guy’s bloody right fist and raised it.

  “And the winner is Ripper!” the bowler hat guy called up to the crowd. “Collect your winnings now or let it all ride on the next fight!”

  Out in the cage, the shark guy limped off, weaving dangerously on the plank of wood connecting the rock island to a door. Once he was out of the cage, two new fighters made their way in.

  “So, if you guys are trying to avoid criminals, how does that work with selling stuff to a smuggler?” I asked Rali. “Isn’t smuggling illegal?”

  He bounced his walking stick from hand to hand. “Oh yeah, super illegal. If you get caught landing a ship on Van Diemann without CPA authorization, I think it’s like ten years hard labor on one of the penal farm planets the first time, then life here the second time. But space moths have special Spirit abilities that hide them from scans, so they get around without getting caught. It’s why they make the best smugglers. Naph’s been doing it forever, and he doesn’t even have a record.”

  “But what if somebody saw Kest trading with him?”

  “That’s where Universal law gets complicated,” Rali said. “Basically, it boils down to her not accepting anything but credits from him. If she was buying or trading for contraband like the general store does, she’d be taking part in an illegal activity, but since she’s just taking money for her builds, she’s considered a seller and can’t be held responsible for how the buyer makes his money.”