Heritage Lost

by S M Wright

  "Why do they have to board?" Mina asked.

  "Don't fret." Katya set the ship down and launched the shutdown sequence for all the systems—wrecking the navigation system's data along the way—while also opening the back hatch. "They want the registration. They'll input it into the Magistrate relay, adding to the slew of paperwork the cogs in the system already have to weed through. As long as the registration checks out, we'll be good to carry on our way." Standing, she waved Mina along. "We have to meet our guests."

  By the time they reached the main level, a group of officials had entered the ship and were speaking with Rein, which caused Katya to stiffen. Their greeters wore Gilga insignias and colors, not the Magistrate's. As the space between them dwindled, she heard Rein explaining that their systems had been damaged after a blind jump to escape pirates.

  "We don't have any weapons on board, except for small arms, all decommissioned military," Rein said.

  The officials turned toward Katya and Mina upon noticing their approach.

  Katya extended her hand, shaking each of theirs while making sure to meet their eyes as she did so. "I'm the captain of this vessel. Clementia. I heard my partner apprising you of our run-in. I've uploaded the registration onto my slate, but you're welcome to get it from our ship's systems if you prefer."

  One of the officials, whose insignia noted his higher rank, grabbed the slate from her hands and inserted a plug. "What colors did the pirates fly?"

  "Red and gold. They were av'Koett."

  "So you were near the wormhole?"

  "Yes."

  A beep drew the official's attention back to his slate. After sliding his finger across the screen for several seconds, he cleared his throat. "We'll still need to examine your system. Registration information on slates can be forged easily."

  "Of course. This way." Katya led them toward the engine room.

  As they walked, the sound of their footsteps resounded against the metal hall—it reminded Katya of a funeral dirge.

  "And what are your intentions on Gilga? Do you plan on leaving the spaceport?" The head official asked in a clipped tone. He fingered through the menus on his device.

  "We need a new ship," Katya said and opened the door to the engine room. "We have a potential lead for work on Horgi, so we need to find a replacement quickly, or we're going to miss that opportunity."

  "Ships don't come cheap," the official said. Meanwhile, his subordinates busied themselves, checking the ship's equipment. "How are you going pay?"

  "This ship's been on its way out since we bought her at auction. It's been an expected expense."

  The official gave no response; instead, he plugged his slate into one of the computer consoles and pored over the registry information. Next to Katya, Mina fidgeted. Stepping forward, Katya blocked her protégé from sight, elbowing her ever so slightly as she did so. A spark emitted from one of the FTL consoles after a Gilga port official entered a few commands. The man muttered under his breath that the console was fried, and Katya restrained herself from cursing the man, who could have sparked a fire or worse.

  A beep emitted from the head official's slate. "Registration clears," he said before waving to his subordinates. "The systems?"

  "Most appear to have been fried in a jump," the idiot said. "Extremely lucky the life support and gravity controls didn't go."

  The senior officer bobbed his head, swiping his pointed finger toward the door. His subordinates filed through it, leaving their commanding officer with Katya and Mina. "You have a week's clearance to remain in port. If you decide you need to enter the city or another area on Gilga, fill out the proper forms at the MGCD office. There is a four-week waiting period, during which you can attempt to extend your clearance."

  "We don't intend to stay that long."

  The official's gaze narrowed on her, and Katya clenched her jaw. A moment passed before—"I didn't expect your type to." He brushed past her.

  Forcing her fists to relax, Katya smothered the burning comment that longed to fly off her tongue. The unspoken retort burned all the more with the knowledge she would have made the same assumptions. How many times had she contemned certain captains and their questionable ships, dismissing them as second rate or smugglers?

  "I wasn't sure they were going to let us go," Mina said under her breath.

  "Good thing that idiot almost blew us all up, huh? I think that convinced them to mosey on." She squeezed Mina's arm before she left the engine room and caught up with the officials in time to see them disembark. As they exited down the ramp, which Rein shut behind them, Katya exhaled, her shoulders sagging.

  "Hilaria, get some warm clothes on. It's going to be frigid," Katya said.

  "How frigid is frigid?" Mina scrunched her lips together, resembling a fish.

  "You don't want to know." Katya approached the ladder to the ship's upper level. "Just trust me: You'll want as many layers as possible."

  Katya entered her own room to prepare herself as best as she could. Unfortunately, the majority of her warmer clothes had been Magistrate issued, so she'd hatched them all. Digging around her room, Katya scrounged up a purple knitted sweater her sister had sent from her own private label, claiming it would show off her figure; she'd never tested that—well, just the once. Frowning, she tugged on the garment and then a light jacket, which was better than nothing.

  "Now you." She lifted Aquila, wrapped him in a blanket, and deposited him into the carrier. "Once again, I'm sorry I can't do better." His head drooped against her shoulder. "We'll get a ship and then find a doctor for you." The ship had to come first; it'd be their only shot at survival.

  Aquila's weight against her back proved oddly reassuring as she returned to the main level of The Maelstrom. There Rein waited in a heavy sweater.

  "Most of your gear Magistrate issued too?" she asked.

  "Yes, but I'll be fine." He nudged his head toward the boy. "Do we have to bring him? It's going to be nothing but trouble."

  "Nothing but trouble, eh? All he's done since he's come on board is sleep." They both glanced toward Mina, who was descending to the main level. "Besides, he needs clothes and I'd rather make sure they fit."

  The closer Mina came, the louder her mutterings grew, about the cold, about her added layers hindering her movements.

  "Just be grateful you have those layers," Katya shouted over the grinding mechanisms that lowered the ramp upon Rein putting in the code.

  A gust of cold air beat against Katya's face, causing her looped braids to flop about. It also cut straight through her jacket and sweater, eliciting a shudder.

  "All right, everyone, keep your heads down and ears open." She led the way down into the spaceport. Her feet were met by frozen soil. "Ferrutius, start walking the eastern portion of the spaceport and inquire about spacecrafts for sale. Hilaria and I will do likewise on the western half." She raised her jacket's collar.

  "Are you sure splitting up is a good idea?" Rein asked.

  "We need something quick, and it's good to play the field." Katya scrunched her nose against the heavy smell of oil and exhaust. Around them, crowds moved through the narrow aisles created by spacecrafts. "We'll keep in touch via our coms."

  "Are you sure you two will be fine?" Rein pressed. "This place is rough—there are all sorts."

  "There were all sorts on Reznic. And I was just as much in the thick of it as you were. Besides . . ." Katya pulled back her jacket, revealing her service pistol. "We'll be fine."

  Rein muttered under his breath, then more plainly, "Suit yourselves."

  As Katya and Mina walked away, she made out his go-to: "confounded woman" in Reznic. Though, that was too polite of a translation. The hustle and bustle of the spaceport drowned out any remaining Reznic profanities. Shouts echoed while crews worked on their spacecrafts or blew off steam with various sports, one involving various-sized sticks and hover balls. Merchants also barked about their wares, trying to draw travelers to their booths, or in most cases, their ramps, which h
ad been transformed into impromptu marketplaces. The smell of food tickled Katya's nose, some of it nauseating her stomach while other options aroused hunger.

  The entire port, like most planetary spaceports, had been encapsulated by towering walls, separating the city from visitors. Keeping the riffraff out from the citizenry. Katya shoved her hands into her pockets. As a secondary purpose, it allowed for detailed collections of information on who went where and when.

  Katya sidestepped a woman hawking a type of fish. Her scraggly gray hair flew every which way as she screeched and waved the fish in the air. "Five bit vars! Five bit vars!" Next to Katya, Mina flinched and stepped into her, seeking shelter. Even Aquila stirred. Pulling the blanket further over his head, Katya guaranteed his face was concealed, hopefully along with his talents. The last thing they needed was an overzealous fish huckster triggering them. He wiggled against her, struggling to free himself. After they were a safe distance, she allowed the blanket to drift away.

  Katya reached back and carded his hair. Dry. The sweat that had hung to him was gone. The colder temperature. Perhaps, it had not been the failing life support systems that had caused the Aletheia to be so frigid. Oneiroi can't tolerate warm temperatures, huh? A massive flaw in one of the Magistrate's most-prized Elites. They'd hidden it well.

  "There's a hotel." Mina tugged at Katya's sleeve, pointing at the establishment, which had been crafted from white brick. "They actually have hotels in a spaceport?"

  "They're for merchants who are waiting approval to enter the city, or for travelers waiting for their next transport," she answered. She fell silent when a peace officer strode by wearing Magistrate colors rather than those of Gilga. He didn't give them a second glance. "Let's go this way." Katya grabbed the teen's mitten-covered hand to prevent her from walking into a ball-jointed automaton, which wouldn't have deviated from its intended path. "We'll speak with some of the captains and see if we can get any information about anyone looking to sell."

  They meandered closer to the rows of starships yet remained out of the way of crews loading cargo and supplies. A few ships sat unattended, their crews no doubt enjoying time off. After several rows, the pair came across a group of men, all humanoid, who had set up a card game using a crate as a table. Their interest in the game didn't waver, not even when the two women approached. Now closer, her previous summation that they were humanoid proved wrong: Their skin was actually fine scales, smooth and nonexistent at a distance. But more importantly, their clothing didn't bear the slightest trappings of the Magistrate. One of them grumbled before slamming his cards face down on the crate. He stood, cursing—or so Katya assumed from its harshness. The others hurled a few words themselves, a couple of them waving him away, while another spat at him.

  Katya undid the carrier and handed Aquila over to Mina; the boy squeaked as he changed hands. "I see you have an open seat." Katya stepped closer to the table. "What's the game?"

  The remaining three men turned to each other before breaking out into that language, and then the one at the far end of crate spoke. "For'geev a, ma'am. We aire not uz twa"—the man sighed and waved his hand through the air, making almost a 'S'—"yer ton-ed. Dradorian?"

  Katya shook her head. "I don't speak Dradorian. But I doubt we need words to play." She smiled and took the absent seat. "This is troggen?"

  A forked tongue poked out between the man's lips. "Eet iz."

  Next to him, another Dradorian shuffled the deck and dealt the cards. As players received the cards, they tossed in monetas, Magistrate hard currency. The man to Katya's left threw in some more of the coins; the one who had spoken did likewise, while also adding to the pot. Finally, the last man dropped his cards.

  "Whass ma'am du?" the man—the only one capable of Magistrate tongue, or so it seemed—asked.

  Katya removed the required coins from her pocket and settled them on the crate, adding three additional coins, certain her colors would carry the game. The remaining two in the game saw her addition with the talker adding even more coins. Katya saw his raise while the other man folded. Her opponent laid down his cards before flipping them over one at a time, displaying Magistrate blues and a few blacks. She then laid out hers—all blues with patriarchs composing the majority.

  The men around the table bristled, talking in their tongue—much like hornets who'd had their nest kicked—as Katya brought the chips toward her.

  She paused. "I could share my wealth. I just need information: Is anyone here"—she gestured around to port—"selling their vessel?"

  They glanced at each other and consulted. Finally, the one flicked out his tongue, brushing it against his upper lip before returning it to his mouth. "Ves ays, ze Vanderer rader. C-block, weny-feevs. Cap'vin Verrse-vo."

  "Thank you," Katya said. She took some of the winnings—double what she'd put down—and left the rest. Returning to Mina, she reattached the carrier to her back before she pulled out her com and activated it. "Ferrutius, I have a prospect. Meet me at C-block, space twenty-five. I'm unsure on the name, but the ship is owned by a Captain Verrse-vo . . . the pronunciation might be off."

  "On my way."

  "What type of ship do you think it will be?" Mina asked.

  "It could be anything." Katya glanced at Aquila, who he had fallen back asleep, head lolling against her shoulder blade. The lower temperature, however, did have a positive effect on him. This marked the longest he'd been able to stay awake since they'd found him. A group of Magistrate workers headed in their direction, and Katya concealed the boy's face before grabbing Mina's arm. "We need to meet Ferrutius. Let's hurry."

  Mina pressed her lips together, all the while following the path of the Magistrate workers with her eyes. She only faced forward when Katya tugged her arm. "They aren't after us yet, so act normal. Besides, we need to hurry and get our ticket out of here, don't you think?"

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The pair ran into Rein in D-Block. He rubbed his glove-encased hands together in an attempt stay warm. As they approached, he removed a second pair, slimmer, more feminine. He thrust them into Katya's hands. "I thought you could use them." He averted his gaze. "Now, what are we looking at?"

  Katya fingered the leather before she slipped them on, her fingers welcoming fuzzy interior and the protection from the cold. She ignored the smirk on Mina's face.

  "Thank you. And it's hard to say at this point. My sources didn't exactly speak proper Magistrate."

  He grunted in response.

  "Don't worry." She motioned for him to follow her and Mina. "It doesn't hurt to peek. If it doesn't pan out, all we're out is time and a few extra steps."

  They rounded the corner and entered C-Block, which was dominated by merchant ships and marked by blue pylons. Katya readjusted her jacket's collar. It boded well. A good freighter would do the trick.

  Farther down, they came upon a small D-Class Garni freighter; ships of that make had earned the nickname "Badgers" for their ruggedness and surprising amount of firepower, though they couldn't compete with larger or more maneuverable vessels, nor would they win any races. Marked as The Wandering Trader, red lines ran down its sides until they formed a circle around an emblem—a stylized badger with bags on its back—and the ship's name. It appeared to be in good shape, but exteriors were often misleading, especially when dealing with a spacecraft's many systems and miles of wiring.

  "Let's see if we can find the captain." Katya brought out her com. After shuffling through the frequencies, she arrived at one with the matching serial number in its description. "Captain Verrse-go?" She spoke into the microphone.

  "It's Whereego." Static followed and then a crackled: "Who is this?"

  "Clementia. I'm the captain of a ship called Royal Justice. I hear you want to leave the business. I have a proposition for you."

  A moment's silence was followed by the boarding ramp lowering; a fur-covered humanoid male stood at the top, wearing baggy spacer garb with a series of pockets dotting his pants and vest. "What type of propositi
on are you suggesting?" His yellow eyes examined them with a mixture of amusement and curiosity upon their approach. His posture slackened.

  "Rumor has it you want to move on to different enterprises," Katya said. "We require a new ship. Ours had an encounter with pirates recently—it's little more than scrap now. Given our situations, perhaps we can come to terms that are mutually beneficial."

  "Come, come!" He swiveled on his feet, which were exposed revealing six splayed toes, and reentered the vessel. "I'm getting far too old for this line of work," he continued as they followed. "It's funny. You start life striving to go far from home, but as you approach your end, you long for nothing but to return. Then again, all Michzes are overtaken by the longing . . . it also makes us ramble with strangers, it would seem." He chuckled into his hand, which had six long appendages. Various patterns dotted his coat, though his markings were not the bold red commonly associated with the species; no, his had dulled, taking on more of a rust-colored shade.

  "You'll find her in good working order." Whereego pointed out several of the ship's features and made other small talk along the way while guiding them through the corridors—all clean and oddly vacant, no sign of cargo having been there for quite some time. "I purchased her four years ago," he said. "Never had a problem with her, just minor kinks that were easily sorted out."

  "What about your crew?" Rein quirked an eyebrow. "None of them wanted to take over?"

  Katya tilted her head to better see the captain. A common practice was for the crew to purchase ships and routes once a captain decided to give up the title; it was that or a family member would take over command.

  "The last one left a year ago," Whereego said, a little wheeze evident as he did. "I had curtailed our cargo runs. In the end, he couldn't stand serving under a Michze with a homebound itch." He waved toward the end of the hall. "The mess hall is down here. We can discuss the details there after we complete the tour; though while we are by it, we'll just peek in. Of course, your mechanic can go over the ship. I have nothing to hide. I've lost my drive, my passion."