by Blaze Ward
“Stand by, Shiva Zephyr Glaive,” a bored, superior voice returned.
Lazarus thought it sounded like a he, but he couldn’t really tell, given the octave range just within the crew.
“Shiva Zephyr Glaive, approach has been approved,” the voice returned. “Enter via port three for customs inspection. Your information file shows an undocumented crew member. Explain.”
Lazarus listened hard, but nowhere in there had he heard please.
“Ship-wrecked mariner, Station Control,” Kuei replied smoothly. “By the time we got to him, he had nothing but the suit on his back. All cash and credentials have been lost, and we also believe he is an alien species, as we have no records of his type.”
“Do we need isolation, Shiva Zephyr Glaive?”
“Negative, Station Control,” Kuei even smiled now as he looked over at her, ears upright and tilted a little forward in her amusement. “MedCrawler records were attached as part of the original file. Appendix Seven.”
She turned like she had felt his gaze upon her and smiled. It was a real smile, too. He had picked up the phrase Sticking it to the Man from the crew during the last few days, as an example of their opinion of Dormell Station Control. And presumably other places where the Innruld held sway.
That’s where Kuei Akeley was right now.
Lazarus could imagine the dithering over there. Bureaucrats did not like randomness. It ruined their Harmonious Approach to the All. Didn’t matter the species or the culture. And an unknown alien mariner was most certainly going to do that to somebody’s day.
“Where did you pick up that creature?” the voice demanded.
“Appendix Five, Station Control,” Kuei covered her mouth lest the microphone pick up the giggles emerging now.
Lazarus knew that Director Wolcott had already concocted a false trail of the last month’s journeys to hide his rendezvous, so they just needed to add in a mark about a lost explorer vessel of unknown provenance, a distress signal, and then perhaps write down the coordinates wrong.
Whoops. Not sure where we found him, then. Maybe we’ll have to backtrack later. We’ll let you know.
Lazarus felt his own cheeks start to hurt with the enormous grin on his face. He glanced over at Director Wolcott and saw the same sort of glow about the man. Naga. Churquen.
“You are cleared to land, Shiva Zephyr Glaive,” Station Control finally allowed grudgingly. “Expect further questions.”
“Acknowledged, Station Control,” Kuei managed to say and cut the line before she was overcome with the giggles.
Lazarus joined in, as did Addison Wolcott.
“Now what?” Lazarus asked when everything finally settled.
“Now we enter the dragon’s maw,” Wolcott said in a more serious tone. “We have to spoof the overlords and their lackeys that you are nothing worth consideration, make our next meetup, and then perhaps conduct some legitimate business. For obvious reasons, I am not about to grant you shore leave here, as we don’t want to tempt anyone to do anything stupid, so you’ll have to rely on Aileen and Thadrakho. Why did you recruit him, anyway?”
“He’s a biped, like me,” Lazarus smiled in spite of his seriousness. “Taller, too, so he can find pants that are long enough, as long as he had the circumference correct. I doubt any tailor on station would carry clothing that actually fits me without just getting it custom made. That might be a requirement, but I’m hoping Thadrakho can find something, or at least try it on if Aileen finds it. Otherwise, he’s going to buy some books on pattern-making and teach himself.”
“Thadrakho wants to become a tailor?” Kuei asked. “This I have to see.”
“It was that, or I take all of you to my homeworld to shop,” Lazarus said. “Might yet do that, but we need to accomplish some other things first.”
“Indeed, Lazarus,” Wolcott acknowledged, leaving unstated, as best Lazarus could tell, all that critical subtext that had been left in the Director’s office.
Lazarus knew there would come a reckoning, one of these days, but it didn’t have to be today.
Or even tomorrow.
First, there was a man needed sticking to.
Chapter Twenty
Addison
Dormell Station had not changed one iota since his last visit, but Addison doubted that change was ever actually allowed. The Innruld controlled everything and as long as their needs were met, up in Skycity, the port itself below would just have to make do.
He had brought Wybert along today, joining Lazarus, Aileen, and Thadrakho as they marched to the station’s control node inside a ring of a half-dozen security troopers of various species.
Wybert was armed, but everyone understood that taking a powerspear away from an Ilount required a greater reason than this. Everyone else had left weapons back on the ship, though.
There wasn’t much the group of them could do if the overlords were feeling pissy, except to submit to their authority and file whatever legal grievances were necessary for Addison to alert his own superiors somewhere that they had an agent in trouble.
And given the situation, those worthies might not react, since they currently had no idea of the value of the tall human in their midst. And Addison dare say nothing if he was in custody, as the servants of the Great Ones would be listening in, legal or not.
Addison found it amusing watching Lazarus walk. Thadrakho’s legs were only a little longer, for all his extra height, but Necherle moved with graceful deliberation they learned on the ice and snow of home at a young age, so Thadrakho’s normal speed was comparable to Aileen’s. Wybert clattered along in a noisy mass of sound, while Addison set the pace as he slithered along.
Lazarus was used to walking much faster. And it wasn’t just those long legs, although that helped. The gravity was even lower on station than the ship, but Addison kept his ship a few points high for the extra exercise of lifting yourself when you weighed more.
Lazarus must feel like he was on the verge of flying at times.
Interestingly, news of the human must have leaked, as Addison found a larger than normal number of onlookers, standing suspiciously around as his group trooped through the cold, steel corridors of the port. There were many species taller than a human. Necherle for example, to say nothing of the Innruld themselves, but Addison had never met anyone with the mass density of a human. And Lazarus claimed to be of average height and weight for a male of his species.
Addison didn’t want to think about the largest examples of humans that Lazarus had described. What species was supposed to have that great a range of normal distributions? What evolutionary pressures generated that?
But the guards kept everyone at a safe distance, observing and tittering behind raised hands for the most part. Lazarus was a kit in a candy store, head rotating every which way as he saw many more species of citizen than he had probably imagined, especially if the Rio Alliance represented a total of only four.
Addison could see more than thirty, just on this long concourse.
Finally, they came to the hatch Addison had been dreading. He had made eye contact with a few folks as he slithered along, passing subtle signals with hands and eye ridges that he had important information for folks.
As if landing at Dormell with a representative of an unknown species might have been just a minor thing.
They were met at the portal by an Innruld representative of Skycity itself, which immediately threw out about half of Addison’s plans. He had hoped that the masters paid no attention to the alien, but apparently someone had decided to inquire.
The lord was male. A little over seven feet tall, but weighed probably the same as Lazarus. Addison suddenly realized what a threat a human might represent, seeing his bulk next to the ethereal nature of the Innruld. No species had the pure beauty of the Innruld. Legend had it that they had once bred and engineered themselves to be the most beautiful creatures in space.
Addison could see a measure of truth to that. This one had the long, lean face the I
nnruld prized. Large green eyes and a tapering jaw that came nearly to a point.
Even for a Churquen, Addison could see how much heavier and brutish Lazarus looked. Unevolved, perhaps. Certainly ugly by Innruld standards, even as the two species were probably the closest in physical form.
Addison managed to suppress the giggle that wanted to escape as he considered that Thadrakho and Aileen might end up having to dress Lazarus as an Innruld, just because nobody else’s clothes would be as good a fit.
Lazarus, Director and Overlord.
Oh, what a wonderful practical joke that would be to play.
Maybe if he could convince the human to share the secrets of Ajax with them, they would dress the human as an Innruld Command Leader.
After all, Addison could only be executed for treason once.
“The rest of you will wait out here,” the Innruld officer announced.
“I am responsible for the human,” Addison pushed back subtly. “He is without papers or identity, and has only a limited grasp of the language. Plus, his accent is atrocious.”
“Do you understand me?” the Innruld demanded of Lazarus, body language a little chilled from what Addison could see. Height and weight made Lazarus a physical threat in ways no other species but a Qooph with a running start represented.
“Some,” Lazarus replied harshly. “Are authority?”
Again, Addison had steeled himself not to laugh out loud at the games Lazarus was prepared to play. The human had read three books on Innruld history and culture on the way in, and the human was pretending to be little more than a trained Wahqf.
“Fine,” the Innruld sighed in an exaggerated and exasperated manner. “You will join us and translate, Director Wolcott.”
Addison nodded to the overlord and then to the rest of his crew. They had gamed this out, so everyone had assignments and this had been the most likely scenario going in.
Now he had to convince the masters to ignore a simple human, without ever realizing that Lazarus might proclaim their doom.
If Addison played his cards right.
Chapter Twenty-One
Lazarus
How to play a bumbling fool that had no clue about much of anything and only a limited grasp of the language? Lazarus understood the need. And Wolcott had promised him greater freedom at the next station stop, once the excitement of a newly-discovered species died down.
Assuming it did.
Lazarus had spoken a few more times with Wolcott in his office. The Churquen potentially represented the same sort of rebellion against Innruld authority that the Rio Alliance did Westphalia, if Lazarus understood the subtext of certain comments correctly.
But they had to cut the Gordian Knot here first, and a blade was not necessarily an option. At least not today.
“Sit there,” the Innruld security bureaucrat gestured at a chair meant for someone taller.
Lazarus would look like a child, with his feet swinging, but he supposed that the purpose here was to reinforce the authority of the tallest species. Even Necherle weren’t quite up to the height standards of the Innruld.
But Lazarus did as he was told. And it would help him remain in character as perhaps a semi-precocious ten-year-old.
He could always stumble over words or ask Wolcott to repeat something, if he wanted to manipulate the emotions of the room.
The agent of the overlords sat behind a large desk in a chair fitted to him. The desk was also closer to something Lazarus would have stood at, rather than sitting behind.
Three of the guards had accompanied him into the large office, and stood along the wall behind the chair where Lazarus sat, with Wolcott coiled up beside him as if all this was perfectly normal.
Lazarus didn’t recognize the species of the nearest guard, but he had a couple of guesses he could make. Biped like him, but roughly five feet tall and slender in Lazarus’s eyes, although probably much stronger and heavier than most of the rest.
Having shoulders on a solid torso allowed a much greater upper body strength, and apparently the human level of musculature was rare or unknown here.
“Name?” the officer asked bluntly, a finger pointed at Lazarus.
The hand had three impossibly-long fingers and a thumb, reminding Lazarus of a hairless orangutan in a way.
“Lazarus,” he replied. Just for fun, he slowly spelled it in Interlac, and then sounded the word out slowly on the assumption that someone was recording all this and would use that to make him papers later.
Assuming he made it out of this office alive and free. Addison Wolcott had placed such odds as low, but not impossible.
“Species?”
“Human.”
“Planet of origin?”
Lazarus looked confused. Leaned his head forward and ruffled his brow together. The lips pursed. He turned to Wolcott.
“Homeworld, Lazarus?” the Director asked.
“Ah,” Lazarus relaxed and smiled. “Brasilia.”
“Coordinates?”
Lazarus just tilted his head slightly and blinked. He could even be honest here, mostly because he had made a point to not try to calculate the path home yet. He had no way to get there at the moment, and the distance would shock most of the people he might tell.
Addison Wolcott probably wouldn’t even blink, but he ran far deeper than he looked. Maybe deeper than Lazarus.
Lazarus shrugged. It was apparently a universal thing in species with shoulders. The bureaucrat grumbled.
“How can this thing not know his coordinates?” he demanded, turning his attention to Wolcott now as Lazarus watched.
“I presume he was not born on an Innruld world, Your Grace,” Wolcott’s tone got oily and supercilious in a way that conveyed the utter irrelevance of all other planets.
Lazarus maintained a wide-eyed innocence as he wondered who was on first, according to the ancient, ritual joke.
“Is this true?” The officer’s eyes came back this way.
Lazarus assumed the emotion he was seeing split the difference between outrage and confusion. Didn’t every child learn their coordinates not long after they learned their home address?
“Sir?” Lazarus couldn’t help himself.
“Where is this…Brasilia?” the officer demanded.
Lazarus let his face get big and wide and confused and sorry and whatever else he could get away with. The big, elaborate pantomime of a shrug with hands moving outwards was probably a little too much icing on the cake, but Lazarus was seeing a species that considered itself so superior to everyone else in the galaxy that he couldn’t have stopped himself if he wanted.
Sticking it to the man.
Lazarus could see a tall, stunningly-beautiful species using that beauty to intimidate the morlocks of the galaxy, like Lazarus. He would be good and not do anything about it.
Today.
“Has he any skills or training credentials?” The officer pivoted back to Wolcott like a ping-pong ball.
“He takes direction well, and has been assisting my Loadmaster with his strength,” Wolcott said. “As you note, he speaks some Innruld, but we’re not sure where he learned it, and seems to have suffered some trauma in the process.”
“There was another ship you served on?” the officer demanded, almost rising out of his chair at the apparent thought of someone not filling out the correct forms. “Whose?”
Bureaucrats didn’t know a higher crime, anywhere in the galaxy.
Lazarus shuddered in supposed fear and turned in on himself, body language collapsing into a defensive, protective shell.
Just another helpless victim, your honor.
As planned, he turned to Wolcott and blinked several times, working up a good hyperventilation act as he did.
“It’s okay, Lazarus,” Wolcott soothed. “You can tell them.”
Lazarus had no idea who Wolcott and Kuei were setting up, but the rest of the crew had a similarly low opinion, when the topic came up, even if names were never mentioned.
&nbs
p; “Akeley,” Lazarus murmured in a hard slur. “Lots of them.”
“What’s he saying?” the officer roared.
“I believe, from the bits he has been willing to share through his fear, that Lazarus previously served in some capacity aboard a cargo vessel with a crew of only Vaadwig,” Wolcott turned Shakespearean on them all. “He reacted with panic the first time he met my Helmsman, Kuei Akeley, fearing her. Only after we convinced him otherwise has he relaxed enough to be useful.”
“Vaadwig, huh?” the officer’s voice got ugly.
It was the sort of thing that promised forensic audits going back decades.
Bureaucrats thwarted. Never a pleasant experience.
Lazarus noted the glance that passed between the officer and one of the goons standing behind him. It was a look of knowing. Perhaps suspicions were being accidentally confirmed?
Someone else getting theirs?
He felt a little bad to be doing something like that to a total stranger, but Lazarus needed this ship, this crew. They had proven friendly, after the rough start for which Wybert tended to apologize for at least daily.
“So we suspect, Your Grace,” Wolcott simpered. “We might not ever know the truth.”
But from the look in the being’s eyes, Lazarus suspected that whatever ship was being set up right now would have a masterfully-rough, ugly time on their next station call.
He wondered if messages would be sent to other stations to lock that ship down, whoever they were, until someone could dissect their records sufficiently to prove that they weren’t the ones withholding evidence of a new species.
Proving the dog didn’t bark was perhaps the hardest task of all.
“So what will you do with the creature?” the Innruld asked Wolcott now, as if Lazarus wasn’t present, or linguistically capable.
“Innruld law required that we rescue him and transport him as far as our next station stop, Your Grace,” Wolcott’s voice got fearful and almost timid, which Lazarus found amusing. “From there, I need to get him papers so he exists in your systems, and determine what he would like to do next. I would hire him on with my crew, partly out of sentiment and partly because he has been a good worker. But he is presumably a free being.”