by Alma Boykin
Rada appeared at the gate of the spaceport and after casually glancing around, found a place to lean against a “no loitering” sign. After a minute a two-meter tall insect strolled past, then stopped. They looked at each other and he gestured toward a waiting vehicle. Rada nodded and followed the white and yellow hive representative, sliding into the back of the hover car. The driver picked up one more new arrival, another insect, and whisked them to a secluded resort-estate several kilometers from Zelowi Mar, the main city. Rada and her traveling companion skimmed over the information data packets provided for them and she noted several dealers that she wanted to visit. It had been over a century since she’d been to an arms market, since the Azdhagi built their own weapons and the Marauders had locked a contract with the Silpaki Combine early on, and Rada wanted to update some of her personal equipment.
She also wanted to find who had sent a human-Oudaveh chimera back to Earth in the mid 20th century in an attempt to start a war between the United States and Soviet Union using illegal and out-of-time technology. That was the real reason for Rada’s visit to the Zelowi Arms Fair. This was where the independents came to do business, both above and below the board, and Rada had tracked the specific technology to a dealer who would be here. After the pilot’s death she’d stripped the track-back data from the Trader timeship before destroying it, which gave her even more evidence. Now came the hard part—finding the specific guilty party and bringing them to justice. All while not revealing who she was and what she knew, and still trying to recover from her recent injuries.
The hover car stopped and the two passengers got out, led by their driver. After a moment’s consideration, First Claw Rrahsh Foe-gutter let the insect precede her into the building, where a nondescript rodent of some kind stopped them. “Welcome to the Trade Conference, gentlebeings,” he said through a translator box. “May I see your credentials?” The felinoid handed over two ID cards and the fair notice as she waited. The black-furred rodent passed the insect and the driver went back out to pick up another guest. The rodent then ran a scan on the First Claw. He chattered a bit to himself, whiskers twitching at the data that appeared on his screen. “Ah, thank you, honored First Claw,” he said nervously, returning her papers. She nodded without baring her teeth and strolled through the now-open door to the check-in and registration portal. It scanned her, confirmed her ID a second time (or at least confirmed that the biometrics on her body and ID matched), and yet another insect offered the mammal a badge with chips for her room lock and credit account.
Rada left her satchel in the room, freshened up, and put on a different close fitting blouse under her vest before walking over to the dealers’ area. She presented her ID once more and the security guard passed her into the series of rooms with various displays, holo-demos, and equipment samples. The mammal opted to skip the section with virtual reality booths. Those dealers were selling equipment either too large to bring into the fair or of such questionable legality and/or safety that the government prohibited it. Considering how relaxed the Zelowi Ruling Council was about weapons (“Pay the registration fee and don’t kill our citizens unless they shoot first and you can prove it. Have a nice day.”), Rada didn’t care to waste time on nifty gizmos that terminated their users as well as their targets. Maybe later, after I’ve perused the rest of the mart, she decided.
She started with the hand-weapons area. There were a few absolutely beautiful custom sidearms on display and she lingered over one with xibo wood grips and coordinating browning on the plasma guide barrel. But no, it was too costly for someone like her, too distinctive even if it had not been built for something with a differently shaped forefoot than hers. The felinoid perused a few other booths and displays before finding exactly what she wanted. The Sarpasigowu collective was just starting to get into the small arms market and decided to focus on small-batch sales rather than aiming for the industrial-size contracts, at least for now. They had brought a few of their demo models and “leftovers” to dispose of and Rada caught the attention of one of the attendants. “Your pardon, permission to inspect?” She inquired through an interpreter box, pointing at the object of her interest with her tail tip.
The creature entered a code into the back of the case and the dissuader-field weakened long enough for it to remove the pistol. The sales rep confirmed that the gas canister was empty before handing the pistol to Rada. The mammal repeated the safety check for herself before inspecting the weapon. It was love at first touch: the weight, balance and grips felt as if it had been crafted for her hands, and the pistol was outwardly unremarkable aside from the craftsmanship. But how did it fire? Rada decided to find out. She handed the attendant her credit marker card to hold while she went to the small test area. The rodent acting as range safety creature confirmed her identity and, after checking its records, offered her the appropriate gas receiver. Apparently the Sarpasigowu had opted for conservatism in this model, because the receiver was standard to several other weapons, making interchange and ammunition purchase that much easier. Rada waited until the range was declared active, selected her target, and fired.
That clinched it. She exchanged receivers and returned to the Sarpasigowu booth. “How much for weapon, holster, and three receivers, plus spare sights and craft tools?” The insectoid ran some numbers and handed her a flop-screen, tapping the total with its antenna. The price was high but less than she had anticipated. The sales clerk tapped lower on the “page” and Rada read the line of text. This was part of a batch that had been ordered, partly paid for, and then the customer had been defeated and couldn’t collect. Stank to be them, Rada shrugged. Some cultures would view the batch as being cursed, but Rada didn’t. Not that it would matter either way, considering how many other curses had been hurled at her head over the centuries. Rada signaled her agreement for the weapon and accessories and the insect took back the flop-screen, entered the data, and debited her account. As per show rules, her new toy’s case had a time-release seal applied to it that would expire after the show closed.
With that checked off her list, Rada threaded her way through the crowd to the armor dealers. The Azdhagi made very good body armor, but she wanted something even more discreet than usual. And that was not sewn into her clothes, unlike Azdhagi custom. Her helmet had just been upgraded so she only sighed over some of the newer designs and then kept moving. After two hours or so of browsing, Rada was about to quit in frustration until she poked her nose around one last corner. This was the least fancy and most questionable part of the armor section but Rada’s ears twitched as she spotted something of interest. It was a booth staffed by two mammals and a Sarpasig selling ultra-discreet personal protection. Ah ha, Rada thought, looking at two pieces in particular. One was an armored breast support that extended down almost to the wearer’s waist. It lapped around the back and had no seams that she could see. The other item fit over one’s abdomen and lower back and had a sleeve attached to cover the torso-tail junction.
After some measuring, the Sarpasig showed Rada where she could try on both pieces. The second would need to be replicated in her size, but even the too-large sample felt very comfortable, as those things went, and gave her full range of motion. The chest support was based on Hilorski designs and utilized lapping plates and a new super-dense but light fluid encased in a cut-resistant cover. The salesbeing helped Rada adjust the fit so that it was skin-tight but did not restrict her motion or breathing. “Come out and Husu will take the final measurements for the back-guard, honored First Claw,” the semi-reptilian insectoid Sarpasig invited and Rada did so.
As Husu, a blue-green marsupial, took careful measurements, even compressing Rada’s tail fur to be absolutely certain of the number of tail-joints involved, Rada sensed someone watching her intently. Husu finished and the felinoid turned around to face the main aisle. A Trader and another humanoid had stopped to observe the fitting and Rada gazed back at the two males. Well, she assumed that the second figure was a male. He’d had some custom body s
culpting and alteration done, but the basic shape remained male. Small, darkly iridescent scales covered his hands, head and face and he wore a very subtly cut long coat of the finest tooroi fleece Rada had seen thus far. It had to be worth at least a thousand credits and Rada made a mental note of the garment and wearer.
He in turn seemed rather interested in her, although his escort radiated discomfort. Rada flicked her tail at the unhappy Trader and returned to the changing area, put her own clothes back on and emerged to find the scaly humanoid dickering over a small item with Husu. “This one will assist you,” the Sarpasig’s translator grated and Rada ordered three of the breast supports and two back guards. Since she did not intend to wear them except as under-layers, Rada declined the decorative options. No, I do not need beads or embroidery, especially not there, she snorted.
Rada picked up her cased pistol and started to leave. Her items would be ready the next day so there was no point in lingering when there were other things to see. As she began striding off, a male said in unaccented Trader, “A moment of your time, gentlebeing?”
Rada turned and replied, “Yes?” She’d been very careful indeed and two weeks spent with audio recordings in Tobashto showed in her accent.
The Trader made a small gesture of inquiry. “Your pardon, but you are...?”
“First Claw Rrahsh Foe-gutter, security specialist and technologies coordinator for ’Krrsskalee Sebentoe,” she replied without hesitation, her Tobashtorak accent thick. She reached into her belt pouch and retrieved an old-style hard copy data card and handed it to him. He inspected and began returning it when the other male intervened.
“Your pardon, First Claw,” he said, smoothly pocketing the card. “My associate, Master Jiwal da Peerlan, is looking for a felinoid that is in Debt to several Trader tarqina.”
Jiwal shook his head, “But you are most definitely not her, First Claw Foe-gutter, and I apologize for having interrupted you.”
“Apology accepted, Master da Peerlan, gentle sir,” she pointed her tail tip toward each male in turn.
The three parted company and Rada considered going to the simulator section, then changed her mind. Instead she got something to drink and then went to another side area of the mart. Bioweapons and biomod were prohibited on a number of worlds, which of course did nothing to stop their production and use. Beneath her new pelt, Rada’s skin crawled as she thought about some of the nastier viri and nanotech infections she’d had to deal with. Her mentor abhorred weaponizing living things and refused to have any truck with them. He also insisted on learning as much as he could about them in order to treat their effects should the need arise. Rada followed his lead.
It was fortunate, the mammal thought as she looked at the first dealer’s product descriptions, that the vast majority of gen-mod techniques left identifiable traces. Chimerization did not, but the very existence of the chimera gave the process away. Rada browsed a few of the booths, even chatting up one company’s sales rep. Its products targeted reptiles specifically and, while she did not recall any being used against the Azdhagi, Rada filed away as much information as she could. The avian female offered to demonstrate one of the less lethal gasses on a lizard in a special tank, but Rada declined. She took a data file and promised to keep the firm in mind, should ’Krrsskalee Sebentoe ever have need of such wares.
Halfway down the row Rada spotted her true target. Filtak Genetics, a small subgroup of the Karoo Cartel, specialized in medical genetics. It should have had nothing to do with the creation of a human-Oudvah chimera and Rada had wondered at the time if she’d found a corrupted data set, reworked in order to protect the actual culprits. But no, only Filtak used the proprietary marker that she’d found in the chimera. Someone had been very, very sure that nothing like Rada (or Joschka) would find and sample the creatures that had been sent back to Earth. The mammal had snorted when she’d looked at the analysis: even she did a better job, and she was an amateur! So with a certain amount of trepidation the Wanderer-hybrid strolled over to the tastefully arranged booth.
The male salesbeing was talking to another customer and Rada used the time to look at the company’s advertising files. “Filtak Genetics—Your Source for Quality” sounded blander than white grain paste and Rada wondered who had squandered the advertising budget and on what. Then she read more closely into the file and watched the graphics clip. Interesting, she thought, eye narrowing in concentration and tail tip starting to flick. That’s not the sort of thing the Cartel has produced in the past. In addition to the usual products, Filtak offered custom tailored sentient and sapient organisms. But what caught Rada’s attention came under the delivery and shipping policy. Karoo does not do transtemporal shipments. Period. Over half of the Cartel’s members’ religions or philosophies forbade transtemporal activities for various reasons and the Cartel did not allow its component corporations to offer that service. But Filtak’s data suggested that it did, indeed, ship across time.
“Can I help you?” a cultured voice inquired in Trader. Rada looked up from her data receiver to find a second male salesbeing studying her. There was more than just professional interest in his look and she gritted her mental teeth.
“I’m not certain yet. My ’krrsskalee may be contracting for chem-sensitive creatures in the near future. The Strong Ones offered an initial proposal, but the larger council has yet to decide on our participation as a ’krrskalee versus a subgroup.”
The male had trouble following her explanation between her accent and the unusual vocabulary, but he caught on quickly. “Does your,” and he pronounced the word carefully, “’krrskalee envision a quantity or quality transaction?”
“Quality,” the mammal assured him. “Only a double forefoot,” and she held up her clawed hand, “but semi sapient if possible. And reusable.”
He had been taking notes and looked up from his data pad. “How about edible?”
“Of course not. Everyone knows that is forbidden,” she replied a bit too intensely.
“It is indeed and Filtak does not condone the consumption of sapient organisms,” the male agreed, making conspicuous notes. After taking more information, he sent Rada an open file with the specifics, lead times and prices for the sort of animal she’d described. “All this is, of course, subject to the appropriate treaties and regulations,” he reminded his potential customer.
“Absolutely,” she agreed, saving the file. It had a secondary data set, she noticed. “Thank you for your time,” and she stowed her data reader and picked up the weapon case.
“Thank you for considering Filtak, ah,” he raised an eyebrow in query.
She smiled at the hint, only baring part of her fangs. “First Claw Rrahsh Foe-gutter.” The felinoid flicked her tail at the humanoid male to see if he would get the hint.
“Thank you, honored First Claw,” and he picked up a small knife from the batch behind the “counter.” “A small token of thanks for considering our products.” Rada offered her hand to accept it and he caressed her palm as he gave her the elegantly decorated blade.
Rada flicked her tail again, nodded her thanks and stepped out of the way of another potential customer. She looked at a few other booths and displays before going back to her room. Once there she carefully locked the door after Zabet cautioned, «Some people are having trouble telling which room is which.»
“Bad tagging again?” the mammal inquired as she sauntered into the main room to the two-section suite.
Zabet swirled her round ears and waved her forefeet. «Management not used to dealing with non-optical sensory systems. The» and she sent an image of a quasi-crystalline shape dragging an old-fashioned suitcase, «can’t detect the devices used to indicate specific rooms.»
Rada put her new firearm down out of the way and got a container of water before perching on the edge of a sturdy-looking small table. “They are not used to those of us with a fifth limb, either,” and she gave an exceedingly over-upholstered, vaguely chair-like thing a sour look. “Unless tha
t’s supposed to be art work.” Zabet failed to take the hint and remained sprawled over the couch. “Anyway, I need your computer skills, Boss.”
«What did you find?» Rada transferred the file and secondary data from Filtak Genetics over to her partner’s portable computer. The True-dragon skimmed through the data and then started to open the second, private, file and cursed. «Amateurs. The second dataset comes with a data-tap buried in it. It is one of the shoddiest taps I’ve seen in ages.» She worked quickly, setting up a second, dummy, area for the file to open in. «You want me to burn the tap or give it false goodies?»
“Go on and feed it Rrahsh’s data but be careful. If it is that obvious there may be a secondary or tertiary code buried under the visible one.” Zabet did as asked and then read the secondary data set. Her ears flattened and her whiskers stiffened with distaste. Blue eyes narrowed and she sent the cleaned information back to Rada. She read it in turn and her tail bristled. “Well, that confirms my suspicions rather neatly. Eager bastards.”
«That’s skirting very, very close to the edges of legality.»
“Legality? From an outfit that says it will violate one of the few inviolable rules of the Karoo Cartel if a customer so desires? It certainly pushes the edges of a number of cultures’ ideas of morality, including the Tobashto.” Rada drained her water glass and rolled her neck and tail, easing some tension. “I suspect it’s a test. If I don’t come storming back and slap his face with my flop-screen, he may push the edge a little closer.”
«Nasssssty,» Zabet hissed silently.
Her Pet got up and went to the necessary before answering. “Agreed. And it means I’m closer to answering my question. So how was your day?”
«Pretty darn good. Got some nice swag,» and the silvery-blue tail pointed toward a small pile of goody boxes and bags. «Too bad the Azdhagi are so far behind with allowing personal shields, because I found two that would be perfect.» Her whiskers twirled, then went limp and she continued, «I still might get one for use elsewhere and just stash it in the ‘Hart when we’re on Drakon IV. And you might take a look at the medical section.»