Set the Terms

by Mia R Kleve

  Hoping to gain some distance, he used his right mid-hand to grab the laser pistol from his equipment belt and fire a shot back at them, just to scare them and show he wasn’t going to be an easy mark. His luck proved consistent for the day. His hit the leader of the group behind him directly in the face, killing him instantly.

  “Well that’s torn it,” he moaned. He was a terrible shot; what were to odds he’d get a kill shot? Too high, apparently. He unleashed several more pulses toward his pursuers. Naturally, now that he was aiming, he missed every one of them. He clipped the gun back in place and concentrated on moving.

  Jondar never even saw the Altok who hit him from the side alley; he just felt the impact and tried to roll into a ball. Being built with a head, thorax, and slightly elongated abdomen and segmented joints between body parts didn’t lend to a flexible rolling design. He crashed through an abandoned storefront and into a pile of discarded old clothing.

  He was lucky enough, the main impact was on his abdomen, which was flexible. If he’d hit the window head-first, it probably would have broken or cracked his antenna or even crushed his head. As it was, he managed to recover into a crouch and had his laser pistol in hand. By the gods, if they mean to have me, I’ll take as many with me as I can!

  The Altok who’d tackled him rushed up to the window. Jondar shot it through the torso, the energy of the beam igniting its fur. The being thrashed and screamed, causing his fellows to slow just outside the window. Jondar fired twice more at the others, making them dodge out of his view. Jondar swapped magazines even though the one in the gun still had four shots. Now he had ten in the gun, ten more in another magazine, and four in the original. Twenty-four shots against who knew how many pissed off little mammals.

  One of the furry devils poked its head around the ruined window; he shot at it and missed, of course. He wondered if he shouldn’t aim. It worked the first time. The whole thing was tiring.

  “Come on you scum,” he yelled. “Come see what Altar are made of!” He could hear them chattering to each other and hoped he didn’t sound as terrified as he was. Survive a galactic war and get killed by little simians, he thought.

  A sudden roar caught Jondar completely by surprise. It was utterly unlike the Altok vocalization, and sounded ten times their size. Whatever it was, the Altok immediately opened fire on it and were the recipients of a massive amount of return fire. Jondar skittered to the side and found some overturned metal shelving to shield behind as guns blazed. The white-hot beam of a particle weapon burned through the shelving just above his antenna, making Jondar scream in alarm. A peacekeeper? It wasn’t possible, was it? The AI were all inoperable, and without AI they would remain that way.

  Another particle beam didn’t burn him in half, for which he was immensely grateful. As the sounds of Altok gunfire fell off, the cracking of the particle weapon became more evident. It was further away than he expected. Then it was over.

  Jondar crawled slowly out from behind the clutter, letting just the tips of his antenna poke over the edge of the window he’d crashed through. The basic image they gave him was of a slaughter. A few of the Altok still moved, but none were going to survive.

  The same roar echoed toward him. The sound receptors carried it clearly this time, and he used his Mesh to find a translation. It wasn’t a common language, which he’d expected by the strange sound. Almost a minute later he finally found it.

  “Who’s in there?” By the time he had the correct translation matrix loaded, the speaker sounded pissed.

  “I was just caught in the crossfire!” he yelled back, without exposing himself.

  “Altaran?” the stranger asked. “You are a long way from home.”

  “You are nowhere near your home either, Equiri.”

  “You have a point. You may come out.”

  “No offense, noble, but I value my carapace.”

  A laugh came back in reply. “No offense, either. However if I wanted your carapace, it would be mine.”

  Fair enough, Jondar thought and stood. The Equiri was 50 meters away, at the corner of a nearby street. His Mesh said the alien was female, and she was cradling a very nasty looking particle rifle of a design Jondar had never seen before. The weapons were rare enough outside of peacekeepers, anyway. He’d seen a Dusman with one, once.

  “May I go about my business?” he asked, keeping all four hands where the equine alien could see them.

  “I was actually looking for someone.”

  “Who?”

  “Why, you, of course.” Jondar cocked his head in confusion. “A TriRusk named Qorr said you had a ship and wanted off this world.”

  Jondar was too surprised to do more than nod. The Equiri smiled. Even from 50 meters, the sharp predator’s teeth were not a happy sight.

  * * *

  Chapter 4

  The Equiri’s name was Lossh. She wore an interesting design of armor he’d never seen before, obviously custom manufactured to fit her massive bipedal frame. He’d never seen or met an Equiri, but knew they’d fought for the Kahraman. Not as servitors, though somewhat faithfully if he remembered correctly. He believed they’d evolved the way she appeared before him, over two meters tall, decidedly equine in appearance, nearly hairless except a long flowing mane which Lossh had braided to fall over her dark green armor. The red-tinged eyes and sharp carnivore teeth made her a formidable being.

  The Equiri led Jondar through the streets, which were now choked with rioting Altok and Skeshu. As night was approaching the two groups were escalating their warfare. If Jondar had been alone, he doubted he would have made it a block. With the towering Equiri leading him, he barely got a sidelong glance.

  He wasn’t surprised when they approached the bar where he’d met Qorr. The TriRusk was waiting when they arrived. He raised a big hand in greeting. Jondar waved back; Lossh just nodded. He sat far off to one side. As they entered, Jondar couldn’t help looking to where the Pushtal’s body had been. He was glad the glitchy bar’s computer had removed the corpse, though he wondered what had become of it.

  “I see Lossh found you!” Qorr said, shaking his big head happily.

  “She saved me, actually,” Jondar said as he took a seat with the two. “Though I now wonder why?”

  “She was looking for transport off the planet, and I mentioned you had one of the best ships.”

  Jondar considered for a minute, then decided his fate wasn’t as bad as some. “K’ka’s ship is better, and he would work for next to nothing.” He looked at the Equiri. “Assuming you have something of value to trade?”

  Lossh reached into a pocket of the vest she wore, removed a small vial, and set it on the table. It was a blueish crystalline vial with unbroken seal. A vial of pure F11. “I have this, and more. But the Caroon is not available.”

  “Did he get another job?” Jondar wondered.

  “He is dead,” Lossh said. “His ship was destroyed by Pushtal pirates three days ago, when I arrived.”

  “Pushtals,” Qorr spat. Lossh nodded.

  “That is unfortunate,” Jondar said. He used the little terminal on the bar and found they still had alcoholics he could drink, so he ordered one. Lossh produced a card of some sort and interfaced it with the bar.

  “Your drink is on me, Altaran.” He glanced at Qorr. “You as well.”

  “My thanks,” Qorr said.

  “Yes, I thank you, but I cannot promise help.”

  “Will you listen to my offer?”

  “Of course,” Jondar said. A bot delivered their drinks. Qorr’s smelled a little like beer while Lossh’s looked suspiciously like blood.

  “I am here looking for a war criminal.”

  Both Qorr and Jondar stared at the Equiri, unsure how to respond. Jondar recovered first. “Doesn’t a war criminal suggest some sort of justice system? Is the Republic regaining control?”

  “There is no more Republic,” Lossh said. Jondar and Qorr looked at each other. They weren’t surprised, but it wasn’t what they expected t
o hear.

  “How can it just be gone?” Jondar asked.

  “Call it suicide,” Lossh said.

  Jondar wanted to ask more, push for details, but something about the Equiri suggested she wasn’t interested in telling stories.

  “Who has charged you with hunting criminals then?”

  “The Dusman’s and the Kahramans’ departure has created a power vacuum,” Lossh explained. “Something always fills a vacuum.”

  “What is it called?” Jondar asked.

  “It doesn’t really have a name yet. But some races have begun talking instead of fighting. There is peace in places, and it’s growing. Slowly.”

  “So, you do have someone behind you?” Qorr asked. Lossh nodded her long head and took a drink. She considered the half-empty glass, judging, then shrugged.

  “If I help you, where are we going?” asked Jondar.

  “I cannot say until we leave Feesta,” she replied. “After I have completed my mission, you will drop me on another world, and you can be on your way.”

  Jondar held up the vial, examining how the bar’s light shone through its rare contents. “How much?”

  “As much as you need.”

  “How do you have F11?” Jondar asked.

  “Does it matter?”

  Qorr shrugged.

  “What’s in this for you?” he asked the TriRusk.

  “My finder’s fee is a ride off this rock.”

  “Sounds like she doesn’t know where we’re going, or at least she’s not talking.”

  The TriRusk shrugged again. “Have you looked around? It doesn’t matter; this place is going to burn.”

  Outside there was a flash of light and the sound of an explosion rolled over the bar. Jondar couldn’t have asked for a clearer signal. “Okay, we have a deal.”

  * * *

  The next morning, Jondar was back at Grand Za, finishing preparations to depart. He’d not bothered to have the ship in trim for flight since he’d landed. An amazing amount of stuff was just lying around. Once he’d secured everything, he reconfigured the forward compartment for two additional staterooms. It cost him half his observation deck, but he was able to keep the cargo hold intact. It was still full of ammunition he’d never delivered. Maybe it would be worth something to someone.

  He was on the bridge, going over his ship’s power condition, when he saw a small cargo truck making its way across the huge open starport picking its way between ships. It had to be his Equiri and TriRusk passengers. So, he checked the power situation one more time. The reactor reported stable at 2% output, sufficient to keep the ship’s basic systems working. F11 was at 97.5% saturation. If he increased power by even 1%, the fusion core would begin to heat up. He hoped the Equiri had more than the few milliliters of F11 she’d shown off.

  By the time Jondar reached the main lock at ground level, the cargo truck was pulling to a stop. Qorr was driving the vehicle, which held four beings, not two. The Equiri was first out, a huge duffel bag over one shoulder.

  “I don’t have room for four,” Jondar said as soon as the Equiri was close enough.

  “These are my associates,” Lossh explained. “They aren’t coming with us.”

  Jondar saw they were unloading the truck. One was an Oogar, a race he’d only seen once before. A simply massive ursine race with improbably purple hair color. The other was smaller, a Cochkala. It examined Jondar with beady eyes over its black-and-white-striped facial fur. What Jondar found most interesting was that they both had the same highly polished and well-engineered green tinted body armor. They were both armed, as well, and carried themselves with confidence.

  He watched the Oogar and Cochkala unload a standard container module, a cubic meter on a side with regular interlock points and a surprisingly high-tech locked interface. The Cochkala keyed something into the interface and nodded to the Oogar who simply picked up the module and carried it to the ship.

  “Where do I put this?” he growled at Jondar.

  Jondar opened the cargo door and indicated a free section of floor. The Oogar grunted and set the module in place, then expertly secured it. He’d apparently worked in the cargo section of a ship before, which itself was unusual. In most civilized corners of the galaxy, such work was done by bots. Jondar had four nearly new cargo bots himself, which were now useless with the dead AI.

  The Oogar barely glanced at Jondar as he went back outside and talked with the Cochkala and Lossh. Afterward, they closed their eyes and lowered their heads.

  What’s this, some religious ritual? For a moment, Jondar wondered if Lossh was part of a church. He didn’t consider a religious government moving in after the Republic to be an improvement. His race hadn’t gone in for superstitions since their dark ages.

  After a moment, they looked up and nodded to each other. In a moment of clarity Jondar realized they were communicating with their Mesh. He was surprised because the AI was no longer working, which meant communicating that way was many times more difficult.

  The Oogar and Cochkala got back in the truck and drove away, leaving Lossh and Qorr with their bags standing outside Grand Za. “We are ready to go,” Lossh said.

  “I need the F11,” Jondar reminded the Equiri.

  “May I access your engineering systems?”

  “Of course,” Jondar said and led the Equiri inside.

  The alien left her bag by the lock and followed Jondar to the engineering control system where he opened a Tri-V screen and entered his captain’s code, something he would have done with his Mesh before. Lossh examined the controls for a moment before grunting and working through the controls.

  “You have written manual controls,” she noted. “Albeit rather badly.”

  “I haven’t done any programming since school,” he admitted.

  “I will help you improve them,” Qorr said, “if you wish. It will be a small repayment for your hospitality.”

  “I would appreciate it. You are a pilot, yes?” The TriRusk nodded.

  “As am I,” Lossh said.

  “Good, I’ll need the help flying Grand Za.”

  “No problem.” Lossh finished with the computer. “Your F11 is at 97.5% saturation.”

  “That sounds correct.”

  She took a fluid transfer cable and attached it to the container she’d brought. Confirming Jondar’s theory, the Equiri activated the container without using manual input. F11 flowed into his ship which automatically processed it. In five minutes, he was up to 15% F11. Before everything went to oblivion it would have been enough to get him halfway across the galaxy. Now, who knew?

  “Sufficient?” Lossh asked.

  “Yes,” Jondar said, then glanced at the container. If it were full it would contain a thousand liters of F11. His mandibles clicked excitedly.

  “It is all yours,” Lossh said, then put a hand on it. “When we are done.”

  “Then let’s get started.”

  * * *

  Chapter 5

  Leaving Feesta was both a moment of great relief and sorrow. The only thing the planet still had plenty of was reaction mass. Jondar had tanked up as soon as he landed, even before he realized the magnitude of what was happening.

  The entire forward section of Grand Za was reconfigured for his two passengers, including the formerly tiny bridge. Now there were three workstations and both of his guests quickly made themselves at home with a familiarity you only saw among experienced spacers.

  “Flying ships is going to be complicated now,” Qorr said, “unless the AIs start working again.”

  “I’d just get used to it,” Lossh said.

  Jondar didn’t like the sound of her statement, though he suspected there was a lot of truth in it. Since Grand Za was his ship, Jondar piloted. Lossh handled the ascent engines while Qorr managed their navigation. The entire process felt unnatural and left him feeling even more trepidatious about the future of space travel. What happened when a hundred ships were all vying for takeoff and landing positions at a busy starpo
rt? He rode the controls with white-knuckled intensity, missing the ability to simply tell Grand Za to land or takeoff.

  “Clear of the field,” Qorr announced.

  Jondar took a moment to look back toward the starport now falling away behind them. The field of battle was hundreds of kilometers wide and long, a collection of burned and devastated lands pockmarked with dead Raknar and Canavar. It was a tableau frozen in time and would forever be his memory of Feesta.

  He took one last look at the starport city. Fires were visible in many places; the riots had steadily increased in intensity as the last of the food was consumed and desperation overtook anger. He wondered if anyone would be alive on the former paradise world in a year. Then clouds swallowed the view.

  “We have escape velocity,” Qorr said.

  “Reactor and ascent engine power are both nominal,” Lossh said. Her businesslike demeanor reminded Jondar of how the computer once sounded.

  It took an extra burn to circularize their orbit then another to set course for the system’s stargate. Finally, they were coasting through the void, and Jondar had time to take in the space around Feesta. As he’d heard, the near orbit was cluttered with dead ships, though not as many as he’d expected. The Dusman and Kahraman had fought over the system for many months. All functional warships were long gone, and those which remained were little more than gutted hulks. A fortune in future salvage if anyone remained to claim it.

  Passage through the stargate was more routine, though he had to manually talk with the gate master and transfer the required coin. Lossh took care of programming the hyperspace computer, the first of the promised modifications to Grand Za she would do.

  The first leg of their trip took three hyperspace jumps, each lasting 120 hours. Jondar was curious about the 170-hour shorter range jumps he’d heard about, as was Qorr. However, Lossh wasn’t interested in explaining, merely saying the interruption of AIs had many secondary consequences.