Timestar

by Robert George Mertens

  As he stepped into the store, he looked around and saw an elderly Relmish male tending the counter. The male looked up at him and stared for a moment.

  "How may I be of service to you, sir?" the elderly male asked, looking a bit surprised, "Are you looking for directions?"

  "Ah… no. I need a little help getting out of the city. Are you a slave?"

  "What? Oh, no. I'm a freeperson. I served my master for thirty years and I have papers to show it. Why would you want to get out of the city?"

  "I need help. I'm wanted by the Iskolians."

  The old Relmish paused for a moment, gazing at Frank.

  "Wait here a moment, please."

  "Please, don't turn me in."

  "I won't. Let me get my son. I think he may know who you are."

  "He does?"

  "Well, maybe. He spoke earlier of a stranger coming to the city—one that might ask for assistance. But I don't know what he was talking about. The young kids are so foolish these days."

  The old Relmish wandered into the back of the store and moments later reappeared with a young Relmish male, who at once, went wide-eyed and ran around the counter to greet Frank.

  "Are you… are you… Frank Jameson?" he asked, "We had heard that you would appear as a Kinorian."

  At that moment, the Kinorian module failed and Frank became himself once again.

  "It's you!" the young Relmish exclaimed, "It's you! Come with me, quickly! We'll get you hidden."

  He pulled Frank into the back of the store and rushed back into the front of the store to have a few words with his father. Then rushed back to Frank and began herding him to the storeroom.

  "I need to get out of the city," Frank said.

  "We have preparations made for you, but you'll need to go back to your Kinorian form."

  "I cannot," Frank replied.

  "What?"

  "The module has failed. Just now. It won't work anymore."

  "Ooooh, this is bad," the young male said, a little flustered, "You have the most recognizeable face in the galaxy right now. You would be spotted the moment you stepped out any door. I must get some of my friends to help."

  "No," Frank replied, "You must do it yourself. What's your name?"

  "I'm Amok. What can I do? I must tell those who wait for you. We have been expecting you. We have a way for you to escape from the city, but we need you in your disguise."

  "You must find me another disguise."

  "I? I? I don't think I can… wait… let me think, let me think…"

  "Sure."

  "Your shape is not too unlike one of us. If you had more hair on your body and face, perhaps…"

  "Perhaps I could disguise myself as one of you."

  "Yes. Still, I will need some help with this. I must contact at least one of my friends."

  "This friend—how long have you known him?"

  "Her… she's my femfriend. She will know how to do this. There is a technique our females use to enhance their hair—to make it look fuller. I don't know how they do it, but they add more hair in certain places on their bodies to make them more attractive. I promise you, she knows how to do this. I will get her. But you must hide."

  "Very well."

  "I'll be back very soon, I promise."

  "I'll be waiting."

  Frank waited for nearly an hour for Amok to return with his girlfriend. All the while, he heard folk entering and leaving the store while the old Relmish male took care of and attended his business casually. Whatever the old ex-slave did, he seemed to take it all in stride, not even giving the slightest hint that anything was amiss in the back of his store.

  The young female Relmish had brought a basket with her, and when she saw Frank, she gasped before regaining her composure, then opened the basket and showed Frank what she had in mind.

  "This is Shim, my femfriend."

  "Hello Shim," Frank greeted her.

  "Are you really him?" she asked, in awe.

  "I am Frank Jameson, if that's your question."

  "Whoa."

  "You have something for me?"

  "It is as Amok has told me. I can help you, although I don't think I have enough shuta to cover your whole body."

  "You don't need to cover my whole body, only my arms and face."

  "And feet…"

  Frank looked down at their feet and noticed that their furry feet were unshod, which was different from the Relmish slaves on Iskol, who all wore shoes.

  "And my feet…" he replied.

  "I'll still need some more shuta. I can get started with what I have while Amok goes to get some more shuta and gidul."

  "What are those?"

  "Shuta looks like our hair, and gidul is used to hold it on your skin. We will need to cut away much of your head hair. It doesn't look like ours."

  "That's fine," Frank replied. His skinsuit allowed his scalp hair to grow through the skinsuit, exposing it to the elements. His beard and facial fair were kept shaved.

  "I haven't enough money for this much shuta," Amok said.

  "I have money," Frank replied, as he pulled out a handful of coinage.

  Amok stared at the coinage, wide-eyed.

  "Is there a problem?"

  "That is a lot of money," he said.

  "Take what you need and some extra for yourself."

  "I could buy myself back from my owner for this!"

  "You're a slave? Even here?"

  "All of us in the city are slaves, except for freepersons, like my father."

  "I'm sorry—I didn't know," Frank said.

  "But it's okay, you're here to set us free!" Amok took about a third of the coinage from Frank's hand and ran out the back of the store.

  Shim began by painting Frank's face with the gidul, which seemed to be an adhesive of some sort. Then, in little patches, she began applying the shuta. In a few minutes, he began taking on the appearance of a Relmish male. Frank's skinsuit advised him that the adhesive material had insufficient properties to maintain contact with its surface, so he instructed his skinsuit to apply additional adhesion to keep it in place.

  Thirty minutes later, Amok returned with more shuta and gidul, which turned out to be good timing, since Shim had used up almost all of her supplies. In another hour and a half, Frank was covered in his face, arms and feet with shuta and bore a striking resemblance to a Relmish male.

  "It won't pass if you are seen up close by an Iskolian, but you should be able to get by from a distance," Shim explained.

  "What about other Relmish?" Frank asked.

  "Well, not so easily, for that. But don't worry, none of them will turn you in, even if they do notice you."

  "Now we must get you to the docks," Amok said.

  "The docks?"

  "Fishing docks. By the sea! The fishermen know you are coming and they're prepared for you."

  "You told someone?"

  "I'm sorry. I had to let them know. There is nothing to fear—I've known these people all my life. I know them well. They know the plan and they're ready."

  Frank gave the young Relmish male a discouraging look, and then resigned himself to whatever this young rebel had in mind.

  "Very good. Let's go."

  They exited through the back of the store and went down back alleys, making their way casually toward the docks, which was a continual downhill walk as they approached the sea. They came upon many Relmish along the way and most of them recognized right away that Frank was not who he appeared to be. Most who saw him stared for a moment, then would have a look of realization and would look away so as not to attract attention to him. They knew who he was.

  Along the way, they came upon a few Iskolians, who gave Frank passing glances, then went on about their business.

  It was mid-morning by the time they reached the fishing docks and there was a small fishing boat waiting for him with a Relmish sea captain and a crew of three. The boat was about ten meters long and three meters wide, allowing just enough room for them to net fish and store
them. As Frank boarded the little vessel, it visibly tilted to the side he got on in, which promptly attracted the attention of its captain and crew.

  "Do you weigh so much?" the captain queried him.

  Frank realized at once that it was his skinsuit making him so heavy. He had forgotten that his own strength was multiplied many times with the skinsuit, giving him the ability to wear and walk in it. Though thin, it was made of neutronium and was very dense, thus very heavy.

  "I do," he replied, as he centered himself in the boat, causing floorboards to squeak and complain under his weight. The water line around the hull came up to a level that the captain had never seen before, even with a full load.

  "We'll need to put supports under you, then."

  "Boy! Go get me some more boards from the boatyard," he said, to Amok. Amok ran off to get the boards.

  "It won't do to have you standing there in the middle of our vessel. You'll attract too much attention. You're a bit large to appear Relmish. Maybe you'd better sit while we wait for the boy," the captain said, then, "On the other hand, maybe you'd best not move. I'll not want you capsizing our boat before we get under way."

  The support boards arrived shortly and they were placed inside the cabin on the floor of the boat. Frank took gingerly steps into the cabin and settled himself on the support boards. Amok waved to them as the crew untied the dock lines and set the boat on its way to sea.

  The boat and crew made its way across the bay at a snails pace with a small motor for propulsion that seemed barely able to push the vessel along.

  "We'll need to take you south along the coast," the captain said, "but all our vessels are monitored, in case some of us try to escape. So we'll have to get you to shore another way."

  "You don't have a plan for this?"

  "We had a plan, but now I don't think it'll work."

  "Why not?"

  "You're too heavy. Uunta knows where you've put all your weight. You look as light as any of us, but there's obviously something we don't know about you."

  "Suppose that I could get rid of my extra weight?"

  "Extra weight?"

  "Yes."

  "How is this possible?"

  "I wear a suit—close to my skin. It's nearly undetectable, but it can be removed, though I won't have any protection once it's gone."

  "The stories I've heard… it does not surprise me anymore. It's the only way we can get you away to safety. I am Korga, captain of this vessel. These are Baluka and Gorku, my crew." The two nodded as Korga introduced them.

  "Once I remove it, I'll no longer appear as one of you."

  Korga pondered this for a moment, then said, "We'll just have to take our chances. You'll have to keep inside the cabin so you won't be spotted. It's not likely the patrollers will stop us, but if they do we'll hide you. Even if they stop us, it's not likely they'll search us. If they do, we'll deal with that then. But if we keep going this slow, they will stop us and they will search us. You've got to get rid of that extra weight—it's slowing us down too much."

  Frank agreed, then instructed his skinsuit. This would be a meticulous operation. Without his resources, he could not simply drop the suit into the water, leaving it for someone to find. It had to be destroyed. Being constructed of neutronium, the only way to be rid of it without leaving technology lying about was to let it decay into ordinary matter. But doing this all at once would result in an horrific explosion, which would likely draw more attention than he wanted right now.

  It would have to be thrown off slowly and carefully. The skinsuit could manage this operation, but he would have to sit still as it took place. He decided to retain the power module—it would not weigh much and it still had some 260 gigajoules of energy left. He would also retain the primary processor—it had served him well and would be rewarded again someday with its own body. He also still needed it to translate languages for him. Finally, Frank would retain a small amount of matter so that the processor could be used to form itself into a small weapon. The power module would supply energy for this.

  The operation took about two hours to complete. As Frank sat near the center of the boat, his skinsuit formed an extension that made its way to the back of the craft and there, formed another device that would recapture the energy of neutron decay, which would be stored in the power module. Raw matter dripped off the end of the device into the water, where it sank harmlessly.

  By the end of the operation, the boat was scooting along quickly, Frank had a personal weapon and the skinsuit's primary processor was still functional. It had formed itself as a belt around Frank's waist, with a remote in his ear to provide language translation. The small, high-energy weapon was kept in a holster on his belt. When holstered, it recharged with from the power module.

  Frank looked human again. Without his skinsuit, he felt the sun on his skin and the wind on his face. He had been wearing it for so long that he had forgotten what it was to expose himself to the elements. There was danger of course, since he did not know what chemicals or biological agents existed on this world that could attack his body. He could only hope that this world was not too unlike his own. In the meantime, it was refreshing to feel human again.

  "It will be another hour," Korga said, "You will need to ready yourself to swim. Can you swim?"

  "What?" Frank said, surprised.

  "Do you know how to keep…"

  "Yes," Frank interrupted him, "I can swim. But… is that the plan?"

  "No. This was discovered on another world," Korga said, holding up what appeared to be a scuba regulator. "It is used to breathe under the water. One was brought here. We have been practicing with it. Baluka can show you how to use it."

  "I know how to use it. We have them on my home world. But you have to use it with a tank of compressed air. Do you have a tank?"

  "We have that, too." Baluka pulled the tank out of a compartment.

  Frank looked at it. It was nothing like the tanks used on Earth, but it appeared to have an analog guage. The guage indicated that the air pressure was low—perhaps no more than a thousand pounds of air left.

  "It's low on air," he said, "Do you have a way to fill it?"

  "Fill it?"

  "Ugh. It needs air. You have to compress air and fill the tank with it. Have you a way to do this?"

  "It seems you know more about this technology than we do," Korga replied.

  Now Frank was sorry he had dumped off all of the matter in his skinsuit. The skinsuit processor would be able to fashion an air compressor, but it would need suitable matter for the construction. It would need metal.

  "I'll need to make an air compressor, but I'll need some raw materials."

  "What sort of materials?"

  "Mostly something made of metal."

  "The only thing made of metal on this boat is the engine."

  Frank looked at Korga, then said, "I'll give you some money for a new engine. Will you be able to get back home without it?" He pulled some more coinage out of his pocket and handed it to Korga."

  Korga looked at the coinage, surprised. "This is a lot of money. It would buy me five new engines."

  "But can you get back?"

  "We can call some friends to tow us in."

  "Good. Now tell me, are there any sea creatures I should be on the lookout for?"

  Baluka began explaining all of the dangerous creatures in the Relm Sea that Frank needed to beware of as his skinsuit processor reconfigured the boat engine into an air compressor. His energy sidearm was converted into a speargun. A mask was constructed along with swimfins and a hydropod with a seat.

  They would be more than two kilometers from shore, and Frank knew his air would run out long before he reached it by swimming, so the self-propelled hydropod was made to move him much more quickly through the water.

  They were adrift now, a little too close to shore, and it was not long before a patroller boat became curious and started heading their way. Frank quickly donned his mask, fins and the tank with its regulato
r while Gorku sat low in the boat. It was arranged that, as Frank dropped over the side of the boat into the water, a moment later, Gorku would rise in his place so that it would appear that he had merely bent over to pick something up.

  The speargun and hydropod were dropped into the water at the end of a tether, where Frank could quickly untie them and be away. The patroller boat was still a kilometer away when Frank loaded himself onto the side of the boat and fell backwards into the Relm Sea. Quickly reorienting himself, he untied the speargun and pullpod, mounted the pullpod, locked the speargun into its mount and sped away, dropping to a lower depth.

  He was more than 50 meters down before he stopped descending. He knew at this depth that he would have to decompress before coming back up. By now, he was far enough away from the patroller boat, so he began a slow, measured ascent. At his present underwater speed, it would take him about an hour to reach the shore. At this depth, it was nearly dark, so he flipped on the underwater lights from the pullpod.

  Aiming one of the lights straight down, he stared down into nothingness. The sea bottom was much further down than he was comfortable with. It was not long before the churn from the propeller attracted the attention of underwater curiousity seekers. Baluka had called the big creatures, "chukers," but Frank had nothing to fear from them. They were water-breathers—fish—but were almost as big as the whales of Earth.

  Three chukers followed alongside him, but the danger was the little cephalopods clinging to their bodies. Baluka had called these, "chukerbuks." These had razor sharp talons that would gouge his flesh if they got hold of him. They would not be able to swim as fast as he was moving, but if they came loose in front of him, they would grab hold and sink their talons into him. Each of the chukers had about thirty of them.

  Then, as though they had spied a tastier morsel, the chukerbuks started breaking away from the chukers and going after him. So far, they would break loose, begin scooting towards him, and then drop away as he passed them. So the chukers were not all that curious after all. This was their defense mechanism—to offer the chukerbuks something else to chew on.