The Blarmling Dilemma (Hearts in Orbit Book 1)

by S. C. Mitchell

  Oolo sat on the steps in front of the large, human-sized door. In her lap she held Kirtl, her son, the Blarmling baby she’d handed to Rigel for first nurture.

  Seeing Rigel, Kirtl disengaged from his mother and toddled toward him. Blarmlings matured at an incredible rate. In just weeks Kirtl and his siblings had reached the equivalent of a five-year-old human child.

  “Surprise, Rigel,” Kirtl announced in his high-pitched voice. “New home.”

  Rigel picked up the young Blarmling. “You made this for me?”

  Kirtl gave him a warm hug. “Whole world helped.”

  Oolo opened the front door and motioned Rigel in. Inside Rigel found a comfortable, clean living space with thick rugs on the floors, upholstered human sized furniture, even running water.

  The Blarmlings were content to live in stick and mud huts, yet they’d built him a mansion. Rigel couldn’t believe his eyes. “You shouldn’t have . . .”

  Oolo shook her head. “Necessary. The new Blarmling Ambassador is very important person. Needs appropriate living place.”

  “Ambassador?” Rigel had a feeling he was about to be railroaded.

  Now that the Blarmlings could communicate with humans, he’d been thinking of pulling back. Letting them handle the negotiations. He still didn’t have a clue how he was going to get Phoebe back, but he knew he needed to start working on a plan. He missed her so badly.

  “No, Rigel. Don’t be sad.” Kirtl put a paw on either side of Rigel’s face and pulled him to the side, looking him right in the eye. “You help us. We help you.”

  Oolo looked up at him, her purple eyes whirling in determination. “We still need you, Rigel.”

  Chapter 34

  Negotiating with a Blarmling at his side, gave Rigel a unique advantage. At first Lart pretended to not be able to speak Common, and would talk in Blarmish to relay to Rigel everything Senator Landus was thinking. In the early meetings, Landus proved himself an honest man, genuinely interested in bringing Blarm into the Federation. Rigel developed a good feeling for the man and finally confessed that Lart, and indeed most of the Blarmlings could speak Common.

  “You are a shrewd dealer, Antares,” the Senator said, a quirky half smile playing across his face. “So these creatures really can read minds?”

  “Your assistant, Sizzanne, resigned last week, and you are frustrated she is not here to help you,” Lart offered as proof.

  “Amazing!” Landus’s eyes went wide. “Though now I have to mind my thoughts as well.”

  “Think of how advantageous a Blarmling would be in a court of law, or in the Federation’s negotiations with the outer worlds.” Rigel didn’t need to read minds to see the wheels turning in the Senator’s head.

  “Tell me,” Senator Landus queried Lart, “how is it that you can speak our language so well. I’m led to believe you didn’t utter a word during your unfortunate incarceration at United Research and Technologies.”

  Rigel was wondering the same thing.

  “We couldn’t speak then.” Lart answered. “We can now, because of Rigel.”

  That took Rigel by surprise.

  “Me? You’ve had dozens of humans land on Blarm over the years. Why didn’t you pick up our speech from them?”

  Lart raised an eyebrow. A gesture he’d picked up from the Senator. It amazed Rigel how quickly Blarmlings learned things.

  “When humans first came to Blarm we could hear their minds, but we did not understand their speech. We pulled broad concepts, but lacked specifics and a frame of reference. They were completely alien to us.”

  Lart gestured toward Rigel. “Then you came to us and you learned our language. We understood humans more, but while you were here you talked, and even began thinking, in Blarmish. I did not know you then, but word spread through the world mind of the human living among us, who could speak to us.”

  Lart turned back toward the Senator. “Then Rigel departed, and humans left us alone for many years. When United Research and Technology sent its trappers, we welcomed them, unprepared for what they would do. We could not understand their thoughts.”

  Senator Landus turned to Rigel. “You can actually speak and understand their language?”

  Rigel nodded.

  “When Oolo and I encountered Rigel,” Lart continued, “I found in his head the complete translation in his mind. Words in each language, lined up, easy to translate. When we landed on Blarm I was able to give this knowledge to my planet.”

  Landus shook his head. “Amazing.”

  Definitely sabotaged.

  It was the fourth time in three months Phoebe’d had to climb up on Ghent’s roof to fix the air conditioning unit. He’d always paid her well, and hadn’t accused her of anything. He’d even offered her a drink and spent time talking with her after. Still, she was worried he would accuse her of padding her pocketbook by orchestrating these return visits.

  The last time the unit had broken down she’d suspected foul play, and had gone over every system from bottom to top to put everything in perfect order. Plus she’d placed a special seal on the inside of the closure, which had been broken, and the faulty wiring looked purposely tampered with.

  “I think someone has got it in for you,” she told Ghent as she descended the ladder. He was waiting at the bottom. “It wasn’t roachworms this time. Those wires were purposely tampered with. You might want to put up some surveillance. Obviously the protectdroids aren’t doing their job.”

  Not that they ever do when you need them to.

  “I’m shocked!” Ghent said. “On a prison world, there are criminals around?”

  His jovial attitude took her by surprise. Wasn’t he worried someone had it in for him?

  “Or perhaps,” he continued, “it was just a lonely old man messing up his own unit, to get the attention of a certain lovely young lady.”

  Phoebe hit the ground and turned toward him. “You?”

  “Guilty.” Ghent shrugged. “I’ve decided to stop being subtle. You haven’t seemed to be picking up on it anyway.”

  Phoebe shook her head, holding out her hands. “Look, I’m not—”

  “No, no, no. Of course not.” Ghent was suddenly all seriousness. “I’m sure you can do better than a washed up old cat burglar. I’m talking a business arrangement here. You warm my bed at night and live in the lap of luxury. Or at least what passes for luxury on the festering dung heap of a planet.”

  Phoebe paused, her mind whirling. What Ghent was offering seemed a good deal, especially in her current situation. Still, she found even the thought of sleeping with anyone other than Rigel repugnant. She wouldn’t be able to do it.

  “Listen, Phoebe.” Ghent’s voice hardened. “I know people. People who can move things along. Get you off this planet faster. Surely that should interest you. I can promise you movement to Theiler 3 by the end of the year . . . and contacts that will speed things along after you arrive there. Let me help you. All I’m asking—”

  “Sounds a lot like the agreement you made with me eight years ago.” A feminine voice drifted across the steamy winds from behind Phoebe. “And look! I’m still here.”

  Ghent’s gaze moved over her shoulder, his eyes going cold and intense. “Constance, what are you doing here?”

  Phoebe turned to see an older woman standing a ways behind her.

  “Well, I’m sure as hell not here to see you, Ghent.” Constance turned to look at Phoebe. “I’m here to see her.”

  Her face was careworn, showing the lines of a hard lived life, yet a radiance shown through. Still attractive, this woman would have, at one time, been a real beauty. There was a stern grace about her.

  Then she smiled at Phoebe. “Yes, I can see what he sees in you.”

  Her smile was genuine, and Phoebe caught a twinkle in the old wo
man’s eyes. And those eyes drew her. There was something familiar about her eyes.

  She held out her hand in greeting. “Phoebe, my name is Constance Antares.”

  And Phoebe knew. “You’re Rigel’s mother.”

  “We don’t really need article seventeen, you know. I don’t plan on breaking any Federation laws, and I doubt any of you will after you replace me. I’m not even sure why you put that in.” The negotiations were going well for the Blarmlings, and acceptance into the Federation was almost assured, but Senator Landus had asked for a few more concessions.

  Oolo, Lart and Tuka, the village elder, had joined Rigel around the dining table in his new home. They poured over the documentation, weighing each provision.

  “Article seventeen stays,” Oolo demanded, pounding the table. “It’s more important than you know. We need to protect you.”

  Tuka nodded. “Diplomatic immunity is somewhat of a standard for ambassadors across the galaxy it appears, at least from what I’ve picked up from the Senator.”

  Lart agreed. “Landus doesn’t have a problem with that. Let’s just leave it and move on.”

  At Rigel’s feet, Kirtl played with some crafted Verrilwood toys. The Blarmling child had adopted Rigel, and pretty much moved right in with him. Oolo and Lart didn’t seem to have a problem with that, and in fact encouraged the relationship.

  Rigel reached down and ran his fingers through the soft fur on the top of Kirtl’s head. The boy seemed to enjoy the caress, cooing softly. Rigel found the motion comforting.

  “You know, now that you can speak Galactic Common, you don’t need me to negotiate at all.” Rigel was thinking it was time to start concentrating on how he was going to free Phoebe from the Theiler prison worlds. It wasn’t going to be easy, but he knew he’d never give up until she was back in his arms again.

  “We need you, Rigel,” Lart said. “And you need us. We’ll help you get Phoebe back.”

  Rigel shook his head. He didn’t see how the Blarmlings could help, and they had enough problems of their own right now. He needed to concentrate on the here-and-now. Get the treaty ratified.

  Meetings, diplomacy, and paperwork were a far cry from his life as a bounty hunter, and even farther from his circus life. It had been a strange path that brought him here, but for the first time in his life he felt settled, at ease. And he felt the work he was doing important to more than just himself.

  The only thing missing was Phoebe.

  “Rigel was probably the only thing I did right in my whole life.” Constance was on her third Volkan Vodka, and well on her way to inebriation. Phoebe had probably had a few too many Tanglefruit Martinis herself, but it felt so comfortable sitting and talking with Rigel’s mother.

  “He was a scamp, that one. Early on he caused me no end of worry.” There was such warmth in the way she talked about her son. Her eyes glazed and she smiled broadly. Phoebe couldn’t help getting caught up in her stories.

  “Keep your nose out of other people’s business, I’d tell him, but he’d never listen. Always taking some kid’s side in a fight with someone bigger’n both of ‘em. He took a few good beatin’s from the local thugs, but it learned him to fight back proper . . . if a bit sneaky.”

  Constance had her own home on the edge of the community. The small cottage had a cozy, lived in atmosphere. She’d offered Phoebe the guest room for as long as she’d like to stay. Phoebe felt incredibly blessed.

  “He saved me, you know, though he’d say it was ‘tuther way round. It was only after I had that little guy that I realized what a terrible waste my life had been.”

  She took another sip. Phoebe just let her talk, enjoying the woman’s stories and the comfort of her home.

  “He still writes me every once in a while, tells me what he’s up to. When I got that post about you . . . my how he carried on. Well, I knew I had to hunt you down. Good thing I did too. That Ghent’s a no-good snake-in-the-grass. He’s a smooth one, no doubt about that, but he’d just use you and throw you away when he’s done.”

  Yeah, Phoebe didn’t have any problem believing that.

  “Now I’m not one to spread rumors, but I heard these ‘people’ he talks about knowing are really deep space pirates.”

  “Pirates?” A tingling started at the back of Phoebe’s neck. Le Piere? Surely there were thousands of pirate groups in deep space. There was no reason to think . . .

  “And they’re sayin’ a couple of weeks ago, just before you landed here, a marshal . . . a frackin’ galactic marshal landed in Ghent’s back yard and had a little talk with him. They’re not supposed to be able to do that. Theiler worlds are off limits even to them.”

  Phoebe sat up, her mind clearing as adrenaline pushed back the effects of the alcohol she’d consumed. “Did anyone get a look at that marshal?”

  Constance nodded. “Short . . . heavy set, they say. Didn’t look much like a marshal at all, ‘cept he wore the uniform. And he had bright red hair.”

  Phoebe whispered the name under her breath. “O’Callaghan.”

  Chapter 35

  “Rigel, can we swing in the Verril trees today?”

  Rigel opened one blurry eye and tried to focus on Kirtl’s face. The Blarmling’s bright purple eyes whirled with excitement. A broad smile played across the creature’s face. “Please?”

  In the course of six short months Kirtl had grown from baby to the equivalent of a human pre-teen, and Rigel had become his favorite playmate. Kirtl seemed to grow more enthusiastic with each passing day, spending as much time with Rigel as he could wrangle. But Rigel loved his new little friend.

  The Blarmlings telepathy and internal radar alerted them when another Blarmling wanted to talk with them, and they would instantly awaken if sleeping. For whatever reason, Kirtl always treated Rigel as just another Blarmling. Oolo and Lart had had a number of ‘talks’ with their son about bothering Rigel when he was sleeping, but Kirtl just seemed to forget. Walking in and starting up a conversation with a sleeping Blarmling was a perfectly acceptable activity in Blarmling society.

  Rigel groaned and rolled. “Not right now, Kirtl. I need to sleep more.” He’d been up late, finalizing the agreement that would admit Blarm into the Galactic Federation. At long last the MXX Schlising had blasted out of orbit and headed back toward the central planets where the agreement could be ratified by the full Senate.

  “Oh.” Rigel could hear the hurt in Kirtl’s voice. “I’m sorry. I forgot again.”

  Rigel shook his head. It was kind of nice that at least one of the Blarmlings didn’t see him as the poor, mind-dark human. At times like this, however, not being a Blarmling should have netted him a few hours of badly needed sleep.

  “It’s okay, Kirtl. I’ll come find you when I wake up. We’ll play in the trees.” He heard the Blarmling’s footsteps recede, as silence once again filled the room.

  Rigel was exhausted. He should have been able to fall back to sleep, but his mind started moving, keeping him from dropping off once again. The agreement was done. The Blarmlings would be declared a people, and protected from the likes of U.R.T. Today he would turn his attentions to getting Phoebe back.

  The void in his life felt like an all-consuming black hole. The past six months had been sheer torture, and would have been even worse if he hadn’t been so busy. As things stood it could be years before he saw Phoebe again. He had to do something to change that situation. But what?

  In his mind he saw himself flying in to the Theiler system, passing through the myriad of defenses. Avoiding plasma bolts and hundreds of drone ships, he would swoop down to the surface of Theiler 4 and sweep Phoebe away to a hideaway on some distant asteroid, where they’d never find him.

  I’m not asleep. I should quit dreaming.

  But reality hurt, more than he’d ever imagine he could be hurt.


  A gentle beep came from the other room, and Rigel dragged himself from the bed. Oolo had begun reconstructing the flight deck of The Blarmlings’ Hope and installed the small desk with its touch display from the holding cell here in Rigel’s house for his convenience.

  “How did you learn all this technology stuff,” he’d questioned her.

  “I spent a lot of time in Phoebe’s head. Learned many useful things,” Oolo told him. She’d been quite proud of herself when she got the display up and running here, relaying it through The Blarmlings’ Hope to provide him with full spacenet connectivity.

  A message displayed on the screen: Anomaly found in declaration paperwork. Starship KXL Grotto dispatched. Please meet with representatives in orbit.

  Rigel checked the airspace and found the starship just entering orbit around Blarm.

  “Frack!” He’d completely shut down The Blarmlings’ Hope to save fuel. There’d be barely time to get dressed and warm up the ion drive before he’d be expected. He hadn’t needed his ship in weeks. The Senator and his advisors always shuttled down to the planet’s surface for negotiations.

  Why hadn’t these diplomats, whoever they were, planned to shuttle down to the surface? True, if it was just a few changes in the paper work, it would be just as convenient to handle it up on their ship. Still, they knew The Blarmlings’ Hope was the only space worthy ship on the planet, and Rigel the only one who could pilot it. What if he’d been indisposed?