by Scott Moon
He thought about calling Mast and grabbing a dune buggy, but couldn't remember how to make a call on the tablet. His mind was mush. He probably needed sleep almost as much as Mast did.
The Mother Lode was quiet when he cut through the saloon and went up the stairs. One of Pierre's assistants was cleaning and one random miner slept at a table, an empty glass in his hand. Thad gazed into the glass to be sure it was empty.
* * *
Mast bolted upright, flailing one arm against the darkness while the other held his throat. Something had been choking him. Scrambling from his bed pallet as though the building was on fire, he ran to the window and threw it open.
Fresh air flowed across his face. He stared at the lights of the spaceport. Freighters and transport ships circled the planet and made their predictable approaches like a river of technology invading a starkly peaceful planet.
He thought of the ship at the bottom of the shaft. It had been covered with ancient dust.
Best not to think of that, he thought. A19 would kill him. Would it be today? Tomorrow?
He shuddered violently and had to lean on the window sill. "Will I die in my sleep?"
His lungs didn't feel right. He coughed into his hand, certain he would see blood, but he did not.
Mast resumed his position at the window and faced the night of Darklanding and the mountains of Ungwilook beyond the human buildings. "Thaddeus is my friend. He won't cast me away."
An Unglok only had nine dreams. His fifth had been a nightmare of many-legged creatures swarming up from the depths of the planet. Their pointed feet had stabbed him all over. The bigger ones broke his fingers and the smaller ones climbed down his throat. He hadn't been strangled, he'd been choked from the inside.
Just a dream. One of nine. Four more to go. He hoped they were more pleasant.
It made him sad that one of his dreams had to be such a dark lie. The river of arachnid monsters had proved to be a hallucination brought on by hunger, fatigue, and the poisonous gas dust of the planet's mantel. He hoped the rest of his dreams would be good. Sweet dreams meant a prosperous life for an Unglok.
The twin moons were gone. The sun would rise soon. Thad would want to start early. Mast thought his friend muchly wanted to beat his first mate to Ruby and White Skull.
Mast liked Ruby. She was very adventurous and kind. He thought she lied too much and kept secrets even from herself, but she was not as bad as some of the other humans.
He cleaned himself and prepared his gear for the day.
A cough racked his body, bending him over for several seconds before he could control it. This time, there were tiny speckles of blood on the floor when it was over.
* * *
Thaddeus descended the stairs to the saloon with one eye closed and a growing need for coffee. Hazy beams of light streamed through the windows above the front door. About a dozen miners and spaceport dockworkers ate an Ungwilook breakfast of pancakes and mystery sausage.
Mast stood rigidly at the bar.
"Have a seat, Mast," Thad said as he levered his tired body onto his barstool. "May I have coffee, Pierre, or is that against your rules?"
The barkeep and saloon proprietor smoothed his thin mustache, then looked Thad up and down. "Your rules, remember."
"Yeah, yeah," Thad said.
Pierre moved at a steady pace. His crisp apron had yet to see action and his service jumpsuit fit his lean frame perfectly. He cared about his appearance and was a powerful person in Darklanding. Thad needed to keep that in mind.
"Mast, sit down. You're wearing me out."
"I am much sorry," Mast said. He straddled the barstool awkwardly, with his long legs and exceedingly lean torso. "This is like sitting on a child's toy."
Without warning, the Unglok jerked his hand up to cover his mouth and suppress a cough until his eyes watered.
"Are you okay?" Thad asked.
"It is nothing."
"If you were human a few hundred years ago, I'd think you were coming down with consumption."
"Consumption?"
"Tuberculosis."
"Is that bad?" Mast asked. "I didn't think humans were affected by A19."
"TB is caused by bacteria, not dust. Don't see it these days.” Thad stared at his deputy. "Hell, Mast. Have you been exposed to A19?"
"It is nothing. Part of my quest. Soon I will be recovered," Mast said.
Pierre placed coffee and food on the bar for each of them.
Thad picked at the food and sipped the black drink that might or might not have been coffee. "We have to go to Transport Canyon. P. C. Dickles sent me a message. He was skittish about the details, but it must be about Ruby and White Skull. There are several other prisoners I need to round up as well when we have public enemy number one hooked and booked."
"I am not sure they could have made it to Transport Canyon without being seen," Mast said.
"I've been thinking about that all night. Barely slept. But someone should have seen the jail being moved and no one did. So I'm not making any assumptions without proof. The message from Dickles is a solid lead. We need to check it out. Eat your breakfast, Deputy Jotham. You look terrible."
Mast ate slowly and neatly, as was his way.
"Can you tell me about your quest? Is that allowed?" Thad asked.
Mast stopped chewing for a second, then finished the bite. "There is a deep shaft we must climb down. Its location is very sacred and secret. Please do not ask where it is."
Thad spread his hands. "No problem. Your secret is safe with me."
Mast nodded. "We climb down as far as we can and then come up. Some of us have visions that mean important things. Some of us just see shiny colors and imagine things."
"What did you see?"
Mast pushed his plate away and lay his silverware down on the napkin. He faced Thaddeus. "I will tell you because I have no friends now that A19 has poisoned my lungs. There is a ship at the bottom of the shaft."
"Wait a second. Did you say you were poisoned by A19? Doesn’t that kill Ungloks? And you have lots of friends, Mast." Thad leaned close to his deputy to look for signs of the sickness.
“It is Unglok way, that once death is imminent, we muchly spare our own feelings by moving away from the soon dead. That matters not so muchly. Did you hear me. There is a ship.”
"That’s just wrong. You will be my friend to the last minute which won’t happen for a very long time. And I did hear you. Who would bury a ship at the bottom of a deep shaft?"
"It is very old. I do not think it has worked for a very long time," Mast said.
"SagCon survey crews are very thorough. Hard to believe they missed something like that when they started operations here," Thad said. He couldn't read Mast's expression. Something about his eyes troubled Thad. "Maybe we should talk more about it later, after this crisis has been dealt with."
"Yes," Mast said. "Another time would be best."
CHAPTER THIRTEEN: Grandfather Cornelius
“I have a first name,” Cornelius Vandersun said. “Most people call me Grandfather.”
Comm static filled a long silence. “This is a SagCon-controlled space lane. Unscheduled approaches to Darklanding are strictly prohibited. You must correctly identify yourself and your ship before proceeding.”
“How is strictly prohibited different from just plain prohibited? Are scheduled approaches slightly prohibited?” Cornelius said. “While we are dissecting the bureaucratic nonsense of SagCon’s landing protocol, could you also clarify what you mean by correctly identify myself…yourself? See there, you’re confusing me. And what is your first name?”
“Unidentified vessel. Cut power and prepare to be boarded,” the SagCon traffic controller ordered.
“Too late, son. I’m already past your picket line,” Grandfather said as he slid one hand forward on the touch screen controls of the Red Can—a ship he had painted after his favorite soft drink. “Have a glorious day, Specialist Benjamin Parson.”
“How did yo
u know my name?”
Cornelius chuckled. “My ship is much smarter than yours. Grandfather, signing off. I’ll see you on the way out if you still have a job.”
He arched the Red Can toward Ungwilook.
“Now you’re just showing off,” Specialist Benjamin Parson said.
“I am. Nice of you to notice.” Cornelius cut the connection and swiveled around in his chair.
“Red, please locate, complete, and send a compliment form to Specialist Parson’s boss,” Cornelius said.
A woman’s voice, sensuous and raspy with sleep, answered from the computer. “The SagCon document in this division is called the Compliment / Complaint Form 22-A-5-D or Twenty-two Alpha Five Delta. Would you like him to be promoted?”
Cornelius weighed his options. “Almost. Next time we meet, he should be a rising star in shipping lane security—full of hope and a bit desperate for his big break. Use one of our better aliases. I don’t want a record of my presence in this system.”
“Done,” the Red Can said. “You shouldn’t have told him your real name.”
“He’ll keep it quiet if he knows what’s good for him. One traffic controller telling stories at a bar is different from official records, which you are going to handle with your usual efficiency,” Cornelius said. “What is it, Red? I hear something in your voice.”
“Unlikely. I’m a computer. But since you asked, I’m detecting an anomaly in the planet of Ungwilook.”
“In or on?”
“There is a vertical shaft of considerable volume underneath Darklanding,” Red said.
Cornelius waited.
“There is a ship at the bottom.”
“Who does it belong to?”
“Unknown.”
“What do you mean, unknown?”
A pause.
“I refuse to dignify your last question with a response,” Red Can said.
“Does the unknown ship present a danger to us?” Cornelius asked.
“No. It has been dormant for eons.”
Cornelius considered the information. He waggled the chair side to side as he tapped one finger against his temple. "What else is new on the mining planet? I'd rather not encounter any rude surprises."
Red used her computational power to acquire and summarize all of the recent financial and political reports from the mining operation that was Darklanding. Cornelius listened, nodding at the interesting parts.
"Tell me again about the missing jail. Did I hear you correctly?"
"Yes," Red said. "A rather devious collection of Unglok subcontractors used salvage machinery to relocate the detention facility, which seemed to be some type of temporary structure modified from a bunker originally manufactured to house mining explosives."
"Why haven't the local authorities caught these dastardly villains?" Cornelius asked.
"It does not seem that Ungloks and humans communicate effectively. The inhabitants of this planet are, by their nature, law-abiding and respectful of each other. That does not mean there has been a lack of friction between races and members of various class structures," Red said.
"Spare me the lecture," Cornelius said.
"Shall I summarize?"
"Please do. I assume that solving this crime is much easier from our vantage point with your extraordinary powers of data-gathering and analysis," Cornelius said.
"Why, Cornelius, are you trying to flatter me?" Red's voice was extra sultry. She ruined the effect by immediately moving back to her analysis. "Law enforcement and criminal investigations are handled by one person, the sheriff. It seems that he had hired a deputy who was an Unglok, but could not find this deputized interpreter.”
Cornelius looked at the planet on his enormous view screen. "I'm surprised he hired a local and got away with it. I've seen that go horribly wrong on other settlements."
"But when it works, it works," Red said.
"It doesn't seem to be working in this case. Darklanding's going to hell in a handbasket and my granddaughter is still missing. I'm going down to the surface."
"As I expected," Red said. “Please try not to make the situation worse.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN: Three Airships
Thaddeus and Mast hurried to the airport on the edge of Darklanding. Maximus loped along after them without breathing hard.
The airport was a shabby place. All the real money and engineering effort went into the spaceport, the transportation network to and from the mines, and the docks. In fact, the last time he had been here, there had been no one keeping shop. Which was how he had stolen an airship and gone on his little adventure to Raven’s Haven.
"The manager of this facility does not like Ungloks," Mast said. "Perhaps I should stay behind."
"Not a chance. See that badge on your jumpsuit? That means something," Thaddeus said. There were a lot of reasons to hurry, the least of which was his ex-wife. If he was right about where Ruby and her captor had gone, then his ex-wife would be hot on the trail and would be needing her own airship to get there.
He strode into the guard shack that served as manager's office, air traffic control tower, and entertainment center for the staff of the airstrip. It was three stories tall and barely wide enough to put a stairway in the center of it. Thaddeus thought of lighthouses and old castle towers every time he came here.
An old man hobbled toward the door and unlocked it. “Ah, looky here. Are you the sheriff? I've heard some stories about you and your…deputy.”
"I'm Sheriff Thaddeus Fry, and this is Deputy Mast Jotham. How many airships do you have that can be up and running in less than an hour?" Thaddeus asked.
The old man rubbed his chin. "I suppose, since this is probably official business, that you have a SagCon expense account. Don't suppose you can show evidence of that? The rate is a thousand credits per hour. What's it going to say when I read your chip?"
A voice rang out behind Thaddeus and he cringed.
"Donald Ingram, you're the night manager, right?" Penny said as she strode up, flashing her SagCon Special Investigator’s badge. "I have credentials and pre-approved credit.”
"How much pre-approved credit?" Donald asked.
Sledge pushed past him without seeming to try and went out the back door of the little guard shack to the airstrip. He avoided making eye contact with Thaddeus or Mast.
"Hey!" Donald said.
"Sledge, hold on," Thaddeus said.
Penny stepped close to the night manager and tapped on the lapel of his jumpsuit. She spoke in a lower voice, but Thad still heard every word. "My partner and I are currently pursuing a dangerous fugitive. That should be enough, but I might also mention there is a generous bounty for her apprehension.”
"Her? Doesn't seem right for all of you to be harassing a girl. A nice young lady came through here not long ago with a couple of rough looking characters. I didn't feel great about it, but I didn't really have much of a choice. The man looked a lot like the old sheriff and had a ridiculous amount of money on his credit chip. He bought the navigation components from almost all of my airships. He only took one, which was weird. Kinda like he didn't want anyone to follow him. Man like that seemed dangerous and I wouldn’t want to get killed."
Thaddeus stepped up and gently convinced Penny to stand aside. She was a bulldog when she didn't get her way. He thought this man needed reassurance more than anything else.
“It's my job to see that he doesn't come back to harass you. Do you have a ship large enough for the four of us?” Thaddeus asked in a no-nonsense voice. "Plus a dog?"
Donald shook his head regretfully.
Thaddeus looked over his shoulder at Penny and hoped she wasn't about to lose her cool. She was more than capable of taking a ship for herself and leaving him standing there like a fool. He leaned close to the night manager. "I'm pretty good at making things work when they shouldn't work. Maybe one of the ships without the navigation components could still be flight ready.”
Donald shrugged and considered this information. "T
here are always redundancies. If you know how to navigate properly and make calculations, I suppose you don't need the fancy computers. But SagCon regulations say nothing flies without them. Now, I know you're going to tell me you're the sheriff and you can do what you want, but rules are rules.”
Thaddeus, thinking of Pierre at the Mother Lode, looked at Mast. “Darklanding is the most rule conscientious place I've ever been, I think."
"Very muchly," Mast said.
Donald sneered at Mast like he’d tasted something foul in the air.
Thaddeus pulled the man around to him and stared into his eyes. "Do you have a problem with my deputy, Donald?"
“Uh, I suppose he's okay. Better than the other one that was here. I've seen that brute on the news and didn't want him to kill me like he did all those women and children out there in the foothills and whatnot."
"He is talking about Monnik. A very bad Unglok, but not someone who killed women or children. That is not true," Mast said.
Penny stood with her arms crossed, tapping her foot and never looking away from Donald.
Donald swallowed hard. "Maybe I should just give the last airship to the lady of SagCon.”
Sledge returned from the airfield, staring down at Donald. "Who are you calling a lady?" He faced Penny. "You’re right. There's only one that can fly. The others might get into the air, but they would be lost the moment there was a dust storm or loss of its compass heading.”
"We should take both ships and stay together. One can follow the other," Mast said.
Sledge, Penny, and Thaddeus all spoke at once.
"That's a great idea," Sledge said.
"That's a horrible idea," Thaddeus and Penny said in unison.
They were standing in a rough circle glaring at each other when a bright red shuttle swooped over them and dived into Transport Canyon. There were no words or numbers on the ship, only a twisting white line that ran its length.
Maximus sat on his haunches, pointed his head at the sky and stared as if he’d never seen a ship before. He danced after the red ship, then circled back to lie on the ground dejectedly.
“That shuttle belongs to Cornelius Vandersun,” Penny said. "If we don't move our asses, he's going to find Ruby first.”