by LeRoy Clary
“What about you?” the woman asked.
“We’ll book passage while we wait here and buy a few clothes before leaving. You should leave before we get caught. Besides, you have a ship to catch.”
“Not yet,” the janitor said as she reached for a marker and paper on the cluttered desk. “What time is your lift-off?”
The captain flashed a rare smile and examined her tablet for the departure tables. She said, “Six.”
A few seconds later, the janitor affixed a sign to the outside of the door to the storeroom near where the confused guards had returned to their post to recover from the unfruitful chase. It said simply, Closed until 6. No Entry. She said, “I’ll put one outside the upper door, too.”
The captain turned to the other three as the door at the top of the stairs closed behind the janitor. “I planned to locate and recruit an empath. Now I find myself in an awkward position.”
“How so?” Kat asked.
“The number of tickets I need to buy. It’s becoming clear that I will need three for the trio of you and one for me. Is that correct?” Captain Stone revealed a rare smile, one that others commented upon as looking as if she was a wild carnivore that had just devoured her prey. “Is everyone here ready to take a trip to space?”
CHAPTER FIVE
Kat
The three of us exchanged smiles in the storage room, while Captain Stone bought four tickets onboard a ship named the Dreamer. It was for passage to Escobar Habitat, via a transfer to a second ship at a minor farming planet named Franklin. My smile strained the corners of my lips as I watched Captain Stone make the purchases. My heart pounded, my breath came in short gasps, and my mind raced with fantastical expectations. I had never believed I’d leave Roma, let alone with a passenger ticket in hand.
I had never felt so happy. Bill mouthed, “Is this happening?”
Captain Stone said, “There’s a lot to discuss but it can wait until after we lift off. If any of you wish to back out and do something else, I’ll understand and support your decision.” She faced me, first.
To me, the offer sounded genuine. The best thing ever. I wondered why the captain had agreed to include my two friends. Off-world tickets are notoriously expensive, yet the captain had readily paid for them with hardly any hesitation.
A dark veil shielded my mind from enjoying too much anticipation. Captain Stone had paid for our tickets; thus, she would expect repayment in some manner. That was the kicker. There is always payback. One way or another.
Before I could ask her about repayment, Bert said, “Escobar Hab is considered a myth by most law-enforcement agencies. You cannot simply purchase tickets to travel to a place that does not exist.”
“Whoever believes that is wrong. Besides, I booked tickets to a habitat with another name, one known only to those who travel there,” Captain Stone said flatly. “Many places have two or more names. And you must have a computer concealed about your body or you wouldn’t know even that much about Escobar not being listed by that name.”
“I may have heard it discussed at some time in the past,” Bert said blandly with a shrug of his muscular shoulders. “Some half-forgotten conversation.”
“There are far too many habs and planets to know the names of them all.” The tone of the captain’s voice subtly changed as her eyes narrowed. She spoke sharp and demanding. “Nobody is that smart. Where is it? The computer implant you wear.”
Bert pointed to the top of his right shoulder where the thick fur covered the fat layer under it. “Bio-implant on Brasilia’s second moon, Rio.”
“Expensive!” the captain said with obvious respect.
“Worth it,” Bert countered.
The captain made another appraising glance at the three of us and smiled as if she’d discovered a deposit of trank-oil. She turned to me. “They have my description posted everywhere. Let me transfer a few thousand credits into your account. Go to the shops in the mall and purchase luggage and clothing for the three of us. Simple travel overalls, slippers, and whatever you think best. Do not be shy about using your empathic abilities to hide your identity until we’re safely off this dangerous dirt-ball.”
I glanced at my tablet and swallowed in surprise that so many zeros could fit on the screen. I gave a smile intended to be a show of confidence to Bill, who had said almost nothing for two or three time-tenths, pretty much since Captain Stone had shown up. I had not asked him if he wished to remain with me. Bert had made his decision known, but Bill hadn’t.
If Bill decided to stay on Roma, would I?
That was a curious question to wonder about and required an immediate answer. I said softly, “Bill?”
“Yes?”
“Do we stay or go?”
“So, you finally ask me what I want?”
She smiled at him. “It’s the beer, right? Your head hurts?”
He scowled and then said gruffly, “Buy me something nice to wear that is not blue like these baggy robes. When I go off into space, I like to be dressed for it.”
I opened the door at the top of the stairs enough to peer outside wearing a smile. It indeed looked like a shopping mall. Different stores for different luxury items. I saw only one pair of strolling police and they were distracted by tourists disembarking from a passenger tunnel for a ship that had recently landed. The tourists were generally old, probably from a retirement planet, and were probably on a cruise or tour of tourist planets, and for that Roma certainly qualified.
I closed the door and remembered to turn and memorize what it looked like from the other side and note where it was located. A clock mounted high on a wall said two, which was the local time. The Dreamer left at six. I had plenty of time.
A shop directly ahead sold luggage. I entered, chin up, shoulders back, and used a scant bit of my mental powers to ease the minds of the two clerks as to my appearance as a priest or novice. I eventually purchased four large travel cases and accepted a control badge to wear on my lapel that allowed the luggage to follow me. The signal connected the luggage with the badge.
The shopkeeper, a short, furry male with an attitude, curled his upper lip as he examined my tattered priest’s robe and asked, “Why does a person of your order need expensive luggage?”
I realized I’d made a mistake in purchasing the luggage first. I said, along with a small push from my mind that he should believe my words, “They are not for me, of course. I was sent by my matron to buy these travel cases.”
I added a mental suggestion that it was not uncommon for the wealthy to send workers on missions to buy luggage while they sat in the expensive restaurants and ate off-world foods that cost small fortunes.
The clerk instantly understood and agreed with my assessment of the wealthy and her resentment of them coincided with the feelings I placed in her mind. It didn’t take much.
I walked from the luggage shop to a clothing store with the four cases following me at a discrete distance. I parked the luggage near the front counter and selected an outfit almost at random. I moved to the changing room and put on a shapeless dress suitable for many species. It fit well enough and I paid for it without raising suspicion and used a gentle nudge on the clerk to dismiss the memory of me wearing a tattered robe.
That was the key to being an unknown empath, meaning one who is alive. Nudge a memory in the direction you want a person to go. Not much. Only enough to sway a choice, often using the person’s own beliefs to secure the deal. The clerk in the luggage store hadn’t liked serving the wealthy and bowing to their every demand no matter how silly, so the suggestion that I had been ordered to do a rich woman’s shopping was easy to convey.
Once I wore the new dress, I left the shop, waited a few moments, and then reentered the same store with the same clerk. I approached her as if I was a stranger. My tone matched the callous manner the wealthy used when speaking to those of lesser means. My new expensive dress reinforced my words, “I am going to purchase traveling clothing for myself and friends. May I get you to record the char
ges and neatly place the things in my travel cases while I select more?”
“Why, certainly.”
She probably worked on commission and I’d just hinted at a nice payroll for her if she pleased me. Her mind was on that, and not on the idea that my face was familiar with her and she’d seen me only moments earlier. I haughtily strolled the aisles and gathered what I wanted in my arms, never once looking at the prices. She noticed that right away.
I carried those to the counter, dumped them by the armload, and went for more as the clerk recorded the charges and neatly packed in the travel cases as I’d asked.
When they were filled to overflowing, I returned to the counter. “If my ship departs at six, what’s the earliest I can board on this planet?”
“Four, two hours of advance boarding is normal.”
The timer on the wall now said three. “Thank you. Is there room in the suitcases for a few more things?”
“We can make room,” the clerk said with a crooked smile.
I’d spent more credits in the last hour than the clerk earned in a few years. I went for more. Captain Stone had told me to get overalls and traveling clothes. Oh, well. Then I strolled back to the doorway of the storeroom as the timer changed to four. It was time. The cases obediently followed me. Inside, the others anxiously waited for me.
Captain Stone had used the time to remove the green tint from her skin. She had also removed the green wig and combed out her long dark hair. It was like meeting a new person. I had to readjust my thinking and truthfully, I preferred her green.
I was small framed like her, but my hair was blonde and my skin fair. I was also half her age. Comparing myself to other human women seemed natural. She was almost beautiful. I was pretty. Not the same but for the first time, I wondered if the expensive clothing would make others see me differently.
I said, “Clothing for all is in the suitcases. No overalls, so I took what I could find. Change into something quickly and we can board the Dreamer now.”
The captain was smiling as she inspected my choices despite the huge amount I’d spent. Or perhaps she didn’t yet know how much it came to.
In a few minutes, we were dressed much as other tourists in the spaceport, even Bert. He had removed his gun belt and stored it safely inside a suitcase, and he’d found a vest made of a shimmering pink material that he believed accented his soft brown fur positively. With a few humorous wiggles, he managed to slip into it and looked ridiculous—so he matched the appearance of many other wealthy travelers.
I reassessed his appearance and found that perhaps he did look better in the vest. It just was not what I was used to. I couldn’t place a finger on what he looked like, but the overall impression was one of fun, wealth, and respect, a powerful combination.
We moved out of the storeroom together. My past and caution meant my eyes watched every being of every race we encountered. In my thoughts, I waited for the police to come crashing in, weapons in hand. Instead, nobody paid the slightest attention.
The captain indicated an overhead sign that pointed the way to the access tunnel for departing passengers. We tried to casually stride down a wide corridor with others dressed in expensive clothing like us and acting just as aloof as we pretended. Our act must have worked.
Besides the passengers, the spaceport gleamed with polished chrome and gold fixtures, expensive shops offering most anything a rich traveler might wish for—at prices that astounded me. A simple shirt with the logo of a franchised gladiator sold for a couple of credits in our part of town. A shop we passed had it on sale for three thousand. The sign said it was a “reduced price” sale, which was more than Bill and I had ever had in our accounts. It was near the total of all we’d ever banked, and that was the reduced price.
A fine sweat broke out. I wanted to comm Captain Stone and confirm our spending limits until I pulled up the balance she had placed in our accounts. I swallowed hard at the total. I didn’t have to buy a reduced price.
At the end of a corridor lined with lounges for passengers, a pair of smiling crewmen with little insignias on their uniforms that said “Dreamer” helped us with the luggage as if the automatic rollers required any help. They accepted and verified our tickets with a lot of teeth showing in their smiling, subservient faces.
An enclosed ramp extended from the building and reached the entry door of the ship. I found my breath stuck in my throat. This was it. If we made it another fifty steps, we were on an actual spaceship. No matter where it was bound, Bill and I were about to leave Roma.
It was like everything up until now had brought us to this moment. Make or break, as they say. Walking down the mall of the spaceport had been magnificent, the nicest building I’d ever been in. The shopping had been fun, like from a dream.
However, a few steps ahead lay the edge of the lip of the opulent ramp. Beyond that, a spaceship waited to carry us away. The idea of climbing a hillside that never seemed to end came to mind. Finally, we could see the top, just ahead.
Only a short while ago, I’d been sucking down weak beer inside a filthy tent that had more patches than original material. Water poured inside when it rained. A single credit added to my bank account was a windfall. I lived and survived on tenths of a credit. That small amount paid for all my expenses, and usually those of Bill and Bert.
My mind hadn’t yet grasped all that was happening. It felt more like an event from a powerful stim supplied in one of the drug houses. Sure, I felt good now but would awaken in our patch of woods, where Bill would grumble with a hangover and Bert would call out his irritation from his warren of tunnels. Bert hated drugs of any kind and as much as forbid us to use them.
My foot gingerly stepped over the lip of the extended passage and touched a frayed carpet with the insignia of the ship woven into the center. It was faded and old. Countless feet had walked on it.
The sour, stale, oily smell of the Dreamer almost caused me to back up and reassess the wonderland I was leaving for what lay ahead. A crust of grime coated the corners of the floor where the walls met it, and the walls were not much cleaner. The carpet was not the only thing unclean. Our tent may have been ragged but at least it smelled good.
Stone said, “Move on, Kat. This isn’t a pleasure liner, it’s a tramp transport.”
“It smells bad,” I said.
“They all do,” she said. “You won’t notice it after a day or two, although my first impression is the same as yours.”
“Is it safe?” Bill asked his nose curling and twitching.
“Smelling bad and being safe are different things,” Stone said, beginning to sound irritated. “You’ve all lived in worse.”
I walked a few steps ahead, my eyes flitting from here to there, taking it all in. A wheel used to spin, and close the outer door caught my attention. It was painted metal. The ring where crewmen placed their hands or whatever passed for hands, was shiny and worn smooth from time. How many times does a wheel like that have to be handled to wear away paint and expose bare metal? I decided many.
There was no carpet on the floor further inside. The center of the narrow passage was like the wheel, metal worn shiny from feet, flippers, paws, and whatever. Near the walls was the same accumulated dirt and grime as in the entry. The smells grew worse.
Oil, grease, rot, sweat, and burned electrical components assaulted me. The passage was wide enough for one person at a time, or if two passed each other they would have to turn sideways and after passing each other they would be intimately familiar.
“Cabins six and eight,” Captain Stone called ahead to me because I led our little troop.
Each door had a number stamped into the metal. The floor, walls, and the air vibrated with running machinery. I heard the whoosh of air pumped through conduit, the clang of a metal door closing, and angry cursing from farther along. The last was probably from another virgin traveler, like me.
Door two was on my left, door one on my right. That made it easy. I looked back at a pair of faces as u
nhappy as mine, along with the captain, and behind all of us were the four large travel cases as tall as my waist and barely narrow enough to fit through the passage.
Soon, we located cabin six and entered. The room adjoined cabin eight with a connecting door. I looked around, astonished that I was on a passenger starship.
The rooms were semi-clean and small by any measure as if constructed by and for a race slightly smaller than humans. Each cabin had a pair of short, narrow bunk beds, one above the other, freshly laundered sheets and blankets lay on top of stained, bare mattresses. We would make up our own beds. Against the opposite wall were built-in narrow drawers, about a dozen of them in each room. With the bulky travel cases waiting politely in the passage, there was little room to move, less if anyone wanted to turn around.
The Captain motioned for Bill to shut the door to the corridor. I did the same for the other cabin. When we had done that, she faced us and said grimly, “Okay, we need to do a little planning. I am in charge so listen up.”
Her eyes centered on the two pair of Bert’s eyes appearing from the fur on top of his head. She shifted her attention to Bill and me and her manner of speaking turned more official, much like I’d expect a starship captain to speak.
She said, “The initial trip will only be five days to Franklin, where we will transfer to another, smaller ship. While on this one, we will eat with the other passengers, spend time in the various lounges, where you will do no drinking, stims, or gambling. I want as little interaction with the crew and passengers as possible. Any infraction of those rules and I will bribe the medical staff to sedate you for the rest of the voyage.”
We all nodded silently, which seemed the correct response.
She continued, “Now, get these damn travel cases inside here and unpacked. The contents go in those drawers so we can put the empty cases out in the corridor. The crew will store them. Right now, I don’t have room in here to change my mind.”
“Who sleeps where?” Bill asked as his eyes flitted up and down the captain.