by Blaze Ward
She had brought her own tea in a mug, unnoticed as he had seen nothing but her beauty crossing the floor. Hopefully there weren’t any police waiting to storm the building, as she might blind him completely and he’d end up in a cell.
Except Addison knew that a cell would only be temporary, once they figured out what he was really up to.
“Station gossip suggests you had an adventure on your most recent run,” Eha opined obliquely.
“It’s even more complicated than that,” Addison replied in a quiet, gruff tone. “We’re dealing with what appears to be a previously-unknown, technological species from outside Innruld Space.”
“Is it dangerous?” She leaned forward a little and sipped daintily.
“That remains to be seen,” he replied, joining her. “I have hopes that we can befriend him well enough that he will lead us to more of his kind and help us recruit.”
“So you think we should leave him in your care?” Eha asked, aiming those pretty eyes at him like a ship’s cannon.
“For now,” Addison temporized. “My crew has welcomed him and he seems to be relaxing, but the human holds many secrets that might be lost if he decided he wasn’t among allies and friends.”
Addison hoped that would be sufficient to deter her. She had the authority to order him to turn the human over to her custody, if she chose to exercise it, but Eha rarely overruled him.
She studied him now in ways that made him feel slightly uncomfortable. Like she knew his secrets and was considering revealing them.
“And your other cargo?” she finally asked, bemused, if anything.
“Dormell shortly, then Aceanx, and Zhoonarrim,” he replied, listing his next three stops. “That part proceeds according to schedule.”
Two boxes at each, termites quietly nibbling slowly away at the foundations of Innruld power, until it fell in on itself in a future storm.
“Does the human raise your profile unacceptably?” Eha asked, getting right to the heart of Addison’s personal qualms over the last week.
Ajax was out there somewhere. It was a matter of convincing Lazarus to help them in the coming war as more than just another Kreeghal bouncer, like Vallas guarding the doorway. And perhaps sending aid to the Rio Alliance in their own war against Westphalia’s human supremacists.
Or aiming the Innruld at Westphalia and letting the titans grind each other down with their supposed genetic superiority over all other species. But he didn’t dare tell Eha that. Not today.
Even those secrets could not be held long enough to protect the key players.
“It might,” Addison admitted. “The Innruld and others will certainly want to know more about human capability and coordinates, if only for the trade potentials I myself wish to exploit. I have wondered this last week if I should complete this run, but not take on any others, while I try to figure out the best way to exploit this new development.”
“Can the humans help?”
“It is my fervent belief that Lazarus might be able to tip the scales significantly,” Addison replied, focusing his eyes on the woman. “But that he might not be safe, even in your hands, because someone might come to understand the threat his mere existence presents and assassinate him to preserve other secrets.”
“How did the Innruld react to the human?” she changed topic smoothly.
“Lazarus and I had prepared an improvisational comedic routine,” Addison felt himself finally smile. “Dumb sailor, barely able to speak common. Exasperated Director just trying to follow all of the Innruld’s laws and ethical standards to get the human someplace safe. Nobody knows the coordinates of his homeworld, but Lazarus has mentioned to me two stellar nations in his sector of the galaxy, one of which might be a potential ally.”
“And this other?” Eha asked.
“According to the human, they would likely seek armed conflict with the Innruld,” Addison replied. “Enemy of my enemy who should both be encouraged to fight amongst themselves.”
“You’ve certainly landed in the pond,” she laughed lightly. “Try not to drown?”
Addison shivered in spite of himself. His kind did not swim well. A few cousin species preferred the water, but Churquen were land dwellers.
“As long as the waters are calm, there is hope,” Addison quoted the rest of the saying back to her. “Patience and care will see me to shore.”
“And after Zhoonarrim?” Eha asked. “Turn you and Shiva Zephyr Glaive into free agents for a time?”
“There is a strong likelihood, if the waters remain placid, that Lazarus will allow us to visit his homeworld, Eha,” Addison turned deadly serious. “That human can lift a hundred-pound shipping box over his head in my cargo bay and stack them three and maybe four tall, depending on the ceilings. What would a mob of such creatures do? Vallas and her kind could hold their own, but how many other species could say the same?”
“Is it safe for us?” she asked, suddenly a little breathless.
“I think so,” Addison said. “Lazarus claims to be part of a political entity made up of humans, Moah, Gnashiiley, and Atomarsk.”
“Atomarsk?” she gasped. “Is that possible?”
“He described them accurately, according to the oldest records, Eha,” Addison stated. “Before he knew that they had faded to legend in Innruld Space.”
“Then that would suggest his homeworld was located—“
Addison cut her off with a hand before she completed the thought.
“It is critical that nobody knows that information, Eha,” he leaned forward and whispered sharply. “That you not tell your superiors, lest they decide to go looking in what you and I suspect might be close enough to the right direction.”
“The human’s enemies?” she whispered back.
“Not just that,” Addison agreed. “Lazarus has secrets, even from his own kind. If we can convince him to help us then those secrets, that power, might be ours.”
“If I tell my own leaders, they will advocate for taking custody of the human, Addison,” Eha pointed out.
“And that is why I ask you to deflect them for now,” he replied. “Buy me time to find out what the human will share. We will only have one opportunity at him. If we spoil it in our haste, we will gain nothing and lose so much possibility.”
“You know things,” she accused.
“I suspect things,” he tempered. “I cannot know without Lazarus telling me. Showing me. He will not, if he feels we are potentially no better than the Innruld.”
“You demand much, Addison Wolcott,” Eha stated, but she also leaned back onto her coil and studied him. There was the hint of a smile in those golden eyes.
He watched this beautiful woman weigh his fate.
“Until Zhoonarrim, you are obligated with a previous mission,” she finally said. “After that, somebody will be in touch.”
She rose, tea in hand, and departed, slithering gracefully across the room and through an interior door into the depths of the building. Addison had never been back there to know what he might find, other than perhaps the heart of a conspiracy.
Or nothing at all. His cell leader issued orders and missions. He took them. Executed them while trying to also make an honest enough profit that he could continue working Innruld Space.
But what might await him, await them all, after Zhoonarrim?
Chapter Twenty-Four
Lazarus
Aceanx. Yet another Innruld world Lazarus had never heard of just a month ago.
He felt like a spacer finally though, as the station locks engaged and the platform the ship had landed on was pulled into a sealed chamber on a big slider, so air could flood in around them.
Aileen had found all manner of cloth bolts for him at Dormell, and Thadrakho had taught himself how to make clothing in a variety of styles. Lazarus had spent too much time in an organized military previously to appreciate the expense and effort associated with new clothing, and the impetus to make it whenever possible instead.
Clothing was something you
just requisitioned when you wore it out.
But Addison’s crew had to take care of themselves. It wasn’t even like Ajax, where there was an entire store room dedicated to spare uniforms in all the sizes his crew had represented.
Worse, nobody was shaped like a human, anywhere he had researched. Arms and shoulders reminded him of a T-Rex on many species, spindly enough to manipulate tools, but not to throw spears or carry heavy stones or swords into battle.
But he had clothing now, enough to do laundry without being naked at the time. Durable pants that even fit reasonably well, although Aileen had grinned at him when she presented the bolts of cloth she had found. Apparently, the exact same shade of crimson had been available, so now he had two pair in black and two more nearly identical to the original pants.
He had also made the mistake of suggesting a kilt to Thadrakho when the Necherle asked. Thadrakho had even managed to adapt something else into a pleated and paneled warrior skirt Lazarus could wear when he was feeling feisty.
Not today, but soon.
Shirts had gone one of two ways. Either skin-tight and stretched over him, or loose all over, with wrinkly shoulder seams.
Again, Lazarus had never considered how clothing was made, just that it was. He had developed a much greater appreciation for the people who could sew shoulder seams like this, as well as Thadrakho’s exquisite patience. The first attempt had been an utter failure, but the man had undone it, resewn it two more times, and taught himself how to attach a sleeve. That was apparently an advanced skill comparable to plotting navigational courses through deep space.
Shoes would be a necessary mission in another six months or so, but Lazarus could wait. He had money burning a hole in his pocket and Addison had allowed him station leave shortly, supervised by both Aileen and Wybert. Adventures, but first they had to deal with the cargo unloading.
Aileen smiled up at him now, as if she could read his mind. As his mother liked to say, men weren’t much more complicated than mud puddles, and Lazarus couldn’t really argue that today.
Keep Ajax hidden. Keep himself safe in an alien culture until he could return to her and get home. Learn as much as he could about these people until then.
Today, however, he was assisting with cargo unloading. Remahle was in charge of driving the lifter sled they had broken out again, perched on a stool and maneuvering it just so. Remahle and Aileen normally had the effort to unload things, sometimes with Kuei’s help if something was heavy, but Lazarus had been slotted in as Aileen’s assistant now.
And Aceanx wasn’t nearly as priggish about bureaucracy, so they could unload fairly quickly. That, or the message of an alien species had already arrived ahead of them, and all the excitement had died down.
Lazarus was still just getting used to being the tallest person around, anytime that Thadrakho was over in the Machine Room fixing things. He’d been about in the middle among the men on Ajax, and taller than most of the women.
Here, most folks were at least half a head shorter than him, excepting only the Innruld he might meet. As a dirty alien, Lazarus doubted any would come looking, unless they brought a lot of trouble with them.
Addison had explained to him that the crew would do everything they could to protect their newest mate, but that there were limits, unless the Innruld forced them to turn completely outlaw.
Lazarus hoped that it would be unnecessary. There were too many potential allies the Rio Alliance could recruit here, if they did it quietly enough that the Innruld missed ships and crews wandering off.
“Ready to be a show Galumph?” Aileen asked with a twist to her whiskers and a grin that went all the way up to her ears.
Lazarus rolled his eyes at the Yithadreph woman and sighed theatrically. Aileen and Remahle both laughed.
It felt good, belonging. Weird, but good.
The dock hissed around them loudly enough that they could hear it through the cargo hatch. After a few minutes, a hammer banged loudly on the hull, indicating that the customs inspectors had arrived outside the ship.
Aileen reached out and triggered the elevator lift to lower them to the deck outside. The rear lift connected forward to the main cargo bay and sideways to the spare bay, with Wybert’s truck stored opposite the secondary bay, on the portmost part of the curve, behind the engines.
Because they were on a station, they didn’t need the 10-wheel flatbed tracked crawler with crane and aft winch that was configured for Wybert to drive. That was for times when Shiva Zephyr Glaive had to land on a planet that didn’t necessarily have first-rate port facilities.
Lazarus wondered which job Wybert would pick, gunner or driver, if Addison added some sort of a weapon’s turret to the truck for hostile engagements. He didn’t suggest it to anyone, though.
Today, they had the simple lifter. Aileen stood to port, and Lazarus was on the starboard side, as they descended, landing on the deck with a thump.
Sure enough, an Innruld customs officer with a lot of braid on his collar and turquoise jacket had come, along with a couple of low-ranking guards in blue, representing species that Lazarus didn’t know on sight, although the short, squat one with three eyes was probably a Kreeghal, from the descriptions.
He had his passport in a pocket inside his jacket, less than half filled in with critical information, but he also knew he was the exotic on this run. Everyone would want to see.
He shrugged internally as the Innruld stepped onto the platform and towered over everyone. He looked like he enjoyed doing that to people. Lazarus had met his kind in bars a time or two.
All that height was nice, but your knees are right up where I can get to them, if I want to get mean.
“Papers,” the man demanded of all of them.
Lazarus smiled and presented his. Aileen and Remahle got a perfunctory inspection, but they’d been on this station before. Lazarus stood perfectly still with a slightly-vacuous smile as the officer compared his face to the picture.
Innruld had bluish-gold eyes with no whites. Hauntingly beautiful, in that quiet, cold manner of a lump of radioactive cobalt. They stared at him now with about the same warmth.
Growing a beard would really mess with these folks, as most species either already had fur on their faces, like Yithadreph, or didn’t possess whiskers, like the Innruld. But Addison had made him promise to behave, at least on the first run through these places. Thadrakho had made him something like a straight-razor to shave with.
Later, he might push a few boundaries, once he was no longer so strange.
“Cargo?” the officer finally handed back Lazarus’s gray passport, which got tucked away.
“Here,” Aileen replied in a tight tone that didn’t quite mimic the officer’s as she handed him the holiest of holies, a clipboard with paperwork.
The officer took it and began tracking box numbers against crates.
The sled was six feet wide and about ten long, with the last two of that being Remahle’s stool to drive and see. Under Aileen’s expert eye, Lazarus had covered over the entire surface with a jigsaw puzzle of crates, and then a second row over that.
“You will need to unload this sled,” the officer snapped peevishly.
“Understood,” Aileen smiled lethargically. “Lazarus, box 22753 first.”
Lazarus took a second to identify the one she wanted, closest to him on the front corner. Like maybe she planned it that way. He lifted it with a grunt and waddled to the side of the lift platform to set it down.
As he turned back, the two guards and the customs officer were standing there with jaws open in raw shock. Must be a universal thing. Made them all look almost comically human.
Lazarus looked at them blankly and grabbed the next crate aftwards from the first. It went perfectly aligned with 22753 on the lift deck so that he had the arrangement still set when Aileen wanted them put back. She had a genius for packing things that amazed Lazarus.
The Innruld strode over like an angry stork, clipboard in hand like he might use it
as a sword.
One impossibly-long finger tracked down the inventory until he found the note he wanted, confronting Lazarus like an angry chipmunk.
“That box supposedly weighs one hundred and seventeen pounds, human,” he demanded, maybe of the gods.
“Sounds about right,” Lazarus replied sullenly with a placid nod.
He wasn’t supposed to be enjoying the games Aileen was playing with the man.
The Innruld set the clipboard atop the box and squatted down, apparently intent on proving them all liars by showing they had packed it light. Smugglers, maybe.
Except the boxes Aileen was concerned about were on her side, bottom row, outside facing, second and fifth from the front.
The Innruld grunted. Grunted again.
“Open this crate,” he ordered, storking back up to his seven feet and change.
Lazarus glanced at the man’s boots and nearly giggled when he saw the three-inch heels the being effected.
Yeah, I got your number, buddy.
“Uh, Aileen?” Lazarus looked around blankly.
“We don’t have the authority to open the box, or even a tool,” she lied facilely up at the stupid bird of an Innruld Customs Official. “Shipper sealed at origin. The paperwork for a box opened before delivery will take a considerable amount of time to fill out.”
“I will handle that myself,” the man growled peevishly, which Lazarus found rather impressive.
Lazarus was taken aback by the man’s voice. Innruld sounded generally like humans, with the man speaking normally in a low tenor, but rage drove him up the scale like a bird.
Lazarus turned into a second bass when he was that angry.
“You, get the necessary tools,” the officer snapped at one of the guards. Not the Kreeghal.
Everybody stood around and watched as the being scampered off on reverse-hinged, bony legs that reminded Lazarus of a running chicken, as compared to the boss that looked like a mad, wet hen right now. Eventually, the being returned with a thing that looked like an oversized socket wrench, two feet long and nickel-plated with a star-torque-style head.