An alien man in a flowing gray robe strode by a second later. His features were strongly humanoid, his limbs lanky and his blue skin nearly translucent. Every detail Octi had given them to identify a Corian was evident in his person, right down to the delicate ornate metal headpiece he wore as decoration, twisted and braided into his long silver hair.
Shiro made as though to approach him, but Lissa shook her head. Gesturing for their silence, she stepped into the street just as the Corian passed, following behind as he pushed his way through the bustling alien traffic.
The five of them trailed their quarry until he stopped at a kabob booth, where two tiny insectoid aliens offered what looked like a vegetarian menu. As he raised his eyes to look at the sign above the salad bar, Lissa stepped up beside him, flipped on her translator, and said casually, “What looks good today?”
The Corian didn’t even glance at her. “Oh, I never eat the glubberdatt,” he told her in a friendly tone. “But the wissstl is good, especially with the sauce of the day.”
The bot added for her benefit, “Each of his choices is safe for human consumption, Captain. But I would avoid the sauce of the day if you have any peanut allergies.”
“I’ll try it,” Lissa announced. She turned to the Corian, who glanced down at her from a height of about six feet. She nodded her thanks to him for his advice and received a small smile in response. Encouraged, she extended a hand. “My name is Melissa Phelps—Ambassador for Earth.”
Her bot’s translation of this to the Corian was long, and Lissa waited while the other learned that the proper response was to gently grasp her hand in his own. He did so, bowing over it in courtly civility.
“Your bot assures me this is an old-fashioned but entirely appropriate response to your friendly gesture of acquaintance,” the Corian told her. “We Corians prefer ancient ways to modern ones, quaint as they might seem to the young or unforgiving. My name is Krash.”
“Nice to meet you,” Lissa told him. She stepped back until her four companions were visible. “These are my friends and crew: Stephanie, Ash, Shika, and Shiro of Earth.” Each gave the Corian a nod or bow as their own customs suited them.
Krash swept his robe behind him and gave a courtly bow, stirring up eddies in the dust at their feet. “What brings Earthlings to the Bazaar at Jeropul? I had thought your planet to be ... off-limits.” He put it diplomatically.
“We are newly upgraded,” Lissa told him with a wry smirk. “And looking for a way to extend Earth commerce into the galaxy.”
“Oh?” Krash looked mildly interested.
“Do you know anyone who might be in the market to buy blueberries?” Stephanie asked him casually. She inspected her nails, as though not at all interested in his response.
Ash was eyeing the alien carefully, and Lissa saw a nerve in the Corian’s face twitch when the translator bot spoke to him.
“You have blueberries?” Krash asked, his violet eyes slightly wider now. “Perhaps,” Shiro shrugged.
“Do you?” he pressed.
Lissa turned as if to leave.
“Follow and see,” Stephanie said over her shoulder enticingly.
The five led him back the way they had come through the crowd to one of the empty areas cordoned off for MTrans travel. Lissa subtly pressed the tracker around her neck, and in the pause that followed before the air began to glow she said, “You are the first of your people to see this in thousands of years.”
“Yes ...” He sounded awed at the chance.
The world turned a soft golden glow, and then the deck of the Forty-Five was beneath them and the Corian trader looked about, taking in the view off the port bow.
Shiro took Octi on his shoulder and they transported back to the marketplace to scout out the supplies they would need for their continuing trip.
Lissa led the others below to the slave cells now packed with row after row of pints full of their luscious blueberry crop.
She opened the first glass door, lifted a plastic bin from the stack, cracked its seal with her fingers, and let the soft delicate berries run from her palm in a cascade that sent a whiff of the pungent scent in his direction. Krash’s nostrils flared; his eyes stared hungrily at those plump berries.
“Try one,” Stephanie told him casually. She reached forward and placed a single blueberry in his waiting palm.
Krash sniffed. He ran the berry between his fingertips. Slowly, he placed it on his bottom lip, taking a long breath to savor the smell of it. At last, he popped it in his mouth so quickly Lissa was sure he feared Stephanie would change her mind.
All eyes were on him as his jaw moved. His eyes went wide for an instant and then flickered half-closed in bliss.
Lissa laughed in spite of herself. “That good, huh?” she grinned at him.
He nodded eagerly, his eyes still closed, savoring the taste of that single blueberry—the first to pass a Corian’s lips in so very, very long.
“We’re interested in setting up shop here,” Stephanie told him.
“We would be willing to trade berries for the information we need to do so,” Shiro added for her.
Krash opened his eyes at last. “You will need permits,” he told them. “I can get these for you ... for a fee.” He glanced again at the berries remaining in Lissa’s palm.
Lissa frowned. The Corian was different than she had imagined one would be— slimier; his tone was oily with greed. Perhaps it was only the blueberries that made it so, she supposed.
They fell into discussion then: how many pints were worth so much information and what legal aid they would need to set up their own booth in the Bazaar. Stephanie seemed to have a special sway over him: each time she opened her mouth, he paused his longing glances at the produce to listen. She was impressed with how Shika countered every offer he made; but then, sub-Saharan Africa still existed on a barter system.
So Lissa sat back and let her friends do the haggling—the proficient teenage shopper and the African who had grown up where bargaining was a way of life, now pulling a double- team sales pitch on the Corian trader.
At last, their negotiations concluded and Krash shook hands with Stephanie over the makeshift table they had built of cartons of blueberries.
Again Lissa was struck by how different he was than what she had supposed a Corian would be. The elven folklore on Earth varied in different cultures, but most described them as an ancient race full of wisdom and grace. She could not deny that Krash had a certain smoothness of manner and a slow even stride that could be termed graceful, but there was something greasy about the way he spoke to Stephanie ... something in how his eyes flickered here and there that left Lissa wary. She did not quite trust him.
Perhaps that was why, when the Corian stood to leave the bargaining table, bowing low with a slight smile on his lips but saying nothing, she peered a little more closely at his mouth. There was something odd about the final look he gave Stephanie—something that rang alarm bells in the back of her mind as he only smirked at their polite farewells and made no reply.
She kept behind the others as they led him down the corridor toward the ladder that would take them to the upper deck, refusing to put her back to him even after he politely tried to usher her ahead. A glance in the opposite corner showed her that Ash also hung back, his eyes never leaving Krash. Did he sense it, too? Ash stalked forward, a spear in his right hand, following Krash on careful, silent hunter feet, leaving Lissa to bring up the rear.
They reached the deck. Lissa and Ash took up flanking positions behind Krash just outside the MTrans zone as Stephanie and Shika again bowed and thanked him for coming. He gave another silent bow, but this time, a single blueberry dropped from a fold somewhere in his pale silver robes.
The berry bounced once and rolled a few feet away. Lissa watched it go. Krash seemed to notice it out of the corner of his eye and his head snapped to the side as it tumbled until it came to rest at her feet.
The world slowed as Lissa suddenly realized what was wrong w
ith that strange look and the even stranger manners of Krash. Ash met her eyes and slowly nodded. Kneeling down, she picked up the blueberry and said, as casually as she could to the alien, “Did you drop this?”
He paused, trapped. The MTrans began to glow. And at that moment, Ash acted.
The spear came up, butt end first, and with a sickening crunch, it slammed into Krash’s jaw. There was a burst of blue liquid from between his lips, and in horror, the other girls cringed, thinking it was alien gore spewing from broken teeth, but Lissa only watched as he grunted and fell.
Blueberries. An entire mouthful of blueberries, which he had stolen through sleight- of-hand and stuffed into his mouth during that final cough after bidding them farewell, now spat out onto the deck as he hit the ground.
The boy warrior, who had hunted on the savannah since he was barely able to lift a spear, now lashed out with wild ferocity, landing a second blow and a kick before the Corian hit the ground.
Ash twirled his spear, the blade now pointing at Krash, his black eyes flashing with revenge and righteous fury as he aimed a killing blow at the prone alien.
At that moment, several thoughts invaded Lissa’s mind. She realized with dismay that Ash, born of a very different culture in the midst of the African savannah, absolutely considered it no sin at all to kill the would-be thief.
She also realized that the laws of space probably did not forbid it either.
It was but a fraction of a moment in which these two thoughts flitted through her mind, and she knew she had a moral choice to make instantaneously, for Ash’s hand gripping the spear was already swinging back in readiness to launch toward Krash with a blow that would mean his death.
The spear flashed in the rays of sunlight from Vega. It paused at the zenith of its swing, poised to drop. Ash’s nostrils flared, his furious gaze already boring into Krash. He began to shift his weight forward to make the kill ...
“No!” The word was a command on Lissa’s lips, and Ash halted instantly. All eyes went to her except those of Ash who, never moving his gaze from Krash, protested heatedly, “He is a liar and a thief!”
Fourteen-year-old or no, Lissa knew that middle-class morality or Christian feelings would not sway Ash’s mind, so she wasted no time arguing them. Instead, she told him, “Killing him gains us nothing.”
Turning to Shika, she ordered her to bring a bucket of water and a scrub brush. Shika hesitated for an instant, watching her brother, but then she turned and did as she ewas bidden. Stephanie stared in stunned silence at these proceedings, looking a bit uncertain as Ash continued to stand poised above the cowering Corian. When Shika returned with the bucket, Lissa gestured to the translator bot, which rolled forward dutifully, and then turned to Krash. Ash never paused in his merciless gaze down at the thief, who wisely remained on the ground and gave him no reason for concern.
“You have two choices.” Lissa spoke quietly yet her voice was forceful enough to tear Krash’s eyes from Ash to look at her. She gazed back levelly, her face one of cool indifference to his fate. “You can take that bucket and scrub the deck—all of the deck—to repair the damage for trying to cheat us,” she told him, “or you can choose not to—and I will let Ash finish what he started.”
Krash chewed and swallowed his remaining mouthful of blueberries, keeping an eye on the stewing Mursi boy. By the time he had finished, Lissa was seething at his audacity enough to be disappointed when he simply reached for the bucket and began to mop up the mess of spat-out berries. She nodded to Shika and then told him with ice in her voice, “Wise choice.”
Turning on her heel, she left the two siblings and their prisoner. Stephanie fell in behind as she approached the sterncastle and silently followed her within.
“What was that?” Stephanie hissed, grabbing the other girl’s arm the moment the door shut behind them.
“What was what?”
“That!” Stephanie sputtered. “That ... brutality! You nearly let Ash murder that Corian!”
“Do you really think I’d have let him do it? Thanks for the vote of confidence, Steph!”
“What am I supposed to think?!” Stephanie was shouting now. “Ash rammed him in the face!”
“Because he had a mouthful of blueberries, Stephanie! He was stealing from us!”
“So?” Stephanie shrieked. “They’re just a bunch of berries, Lis! That doesn’t excuse—”
“You don’t get it, do you?” Lissa shouted her down. “If we don’t sell those berries, everyone on Earth is as good as dead!”
Stephanie’s mouth slammed shut. Her eyes were like saucers in her small face as Lissa’s words sank in. The two girls stared at each other for a long moment.
“The OneWorld Government is selling them off, Steph. People are just slaves to them ... chattel, dog food, I don’t know what else. What would we have faced if Nask had sold us? I don’t know.”
“But Space Patrol ...” Stephanie protested.
“Mr. Piff said it’s not illegal. When we were a protected planet it was, but now that first contact has been made, all OWSF has to do is pretend to arrest someone and they can just sell them off-world, no questions asked. Anyone, Steph.”
Stephanie said nothing but looked conflicted.
“And then there’s GTC,” Lissa went on. “If we manage to sign a contract that says no slavery, that’s good. But if we don’t have a contract, they can send guys like Nask after us. Raid us, take whatever they please. Mr. Piff told me the Intergalactic Bank will make loans to the Jerz Empire if they decide to conquer us—lend them money for the weapons to do it!”
Tears began to glimmer at the corner of Stephanie’s eyes. Her bottom lip trembled. Lissa grabbed her friend by both shoulders and shook her slightly, staring her down.
“I don’t know what I’m doing, okay?” she admitted. “I have to just take this one step at a time. But ...” she bit her lip, “you remember third grade?” Stephanie knitted her eyebrows at this, but nodded. Lissa went on, “These aliens are like the schoolyard bully. If you show fear on the first day of school, he’s gonna pick on you the rest of your life. But if you throw a punch ...”
“He’ll leave you alone.” Stephanie nodded, wiping her tears on her sleeves.
“We’ve gotta get that contract, Stephanie. We’ve just got to.”
“Yeah.” Stephanie squared her shoulders a bit and then fixed her friend with a stern
look. “We will. But let’s not murder anybody on the way there.”
“Even if Ash thinks it’s a good idea, I never would have done that, Steph.”
Stephanie looked soberly back at her. “I know.”
Together, they strode out under the light of Vega once more and Stephanie even managed to snicker at Krash as Ash went through the many hidden pockets of his robe, discovering more blueberries, as well as gold jewelry and other odds and ends that Shika said were probably also stolen. They decided to head planetside and contact Space Patrol to turn their blue friend in.
When Krash finished scouring the deck, he was led below by Ash and Shika to the last cell in the corridor—the only one empty of cargo. Shoving him in, Ash growled, “Be glad we’re no longer a slave ship.”
Krash glowered back, tucking his three-fingered hands inside his now empty robe as he glared at them through the cell glass.
Lissa, Shika, Ash, and Stephanie transported to the surface at exactly noon Jeropul time, precisely on schedule to meet Octi and Shiro outside the dome. The guard was as bored as ever as he waved them through, and Lissa found herself wondering how truly helpful he would be if they had been space pirates.
In low tones, she explained what had happened with Krash, and Octi seemed just as shocked as she. He nodded his approval at her for locking the Corian up, although she thought he was a bit disappointed at her for stopping Ash from making that killing blow. These aliens were so bloody-minded.
Together, the six of them decided to visit one of the many open-air bars that lined the exterior dome for luncheon. T
hey took two booths, with Shika beside Lissa and Ash across from her for added protection. Neither of them had forgotten Mr. Piff’s warning.
Lissa found the catering system at the bar fascinating. With so many different aliens to feed, the proprietor had installed several instruments that ensured a good dining experience no matter one’s body type or nutritional requirements.
When they first entered, the hostess asked them if they needed to breathe while they ate. Octi said yes for them while the Earthlings stared at her in bewilderment. The pretty little alien then provided each human with a small package. Opening hers, Lissa found a pair of nose plugs with a thin hose attached. Octi showed them how to plug it into the socket at their booth once they were seated, and removing her breathing mask, she found she could now breath through her nose, leaving her mouth free. The others followed suit.
The waiter now approached them with a tray of syringes. Apprehensively, at Octi’s urging, Lissa allowed the alien man in his top hat to draw a tiny amount of blood from her arm, after which he bowed and inserted the sample into what looked like a flash drive. This he plugged into their booth as well. He then politely asked for a volunteer to stand, so she did so, turning in a slow circle before his scanner. At last, he pressed a button and a mirage shimmered to life above the table—a menu of safe options based on their biological make-up, complete with holographic pictures of each dish for them to flip through.
Octi, as an alien-type commonly known in the galaxy, was offered a chance to swim in the “hunt tank” nearby, but he declined, saying he had already eaten.
When they had ordered, Octi began to recount a tale of his exploits on Europa before he had run away from home to fulfill his “honor quest,” whatever that was. The octopus had apparently been quite the adventurer in his home ocean, and Lissa snorted straight into her drink at one point, earning a roaring laugh from Shiro at the second booth with Stephanie. There was a sudden hush in the room, starting at the doorway to the bar where four aliens had just entered. Ash twisted around to look, one hand going to his ray pistol, and Lissa watched as he gave the newcomers a quick appraisal.
Space Patrol! Page 10