by Dave Gordon
There was no such thing as petty theft on Ponal. Every crime was a felony. The authorities turned a blind eye to soliciting. Some things are constant throughout the universe. The best one could hope for in return was a nice bundle of grain. She did not even like grain.
She endured two years on Ponal before she was able to blackmail her way off the planet. A freighter Captain's compromising indiscretion had given her the chance to flee. She had to chuckle at what passed for a compromising situation on Ponal. If that was all it took, she might just turn pro, although she secretly felt that line had been crossed some years ago.
No, she wasn't above selling herself. She wasn't above stealing, cheating, or lying either. She didn't like herself for it but it was in her blood. She had been born into it. Her mother had initiated her into profession. The family business: “How to scam for a living". That was a long time ago and a billion miles way.
* * * *
“Chelsea!” Her mother was calling from across the street. She had forgotten her name was Chelsea today. That was a rule; don't call each other by real names.
“Coming mother,” she called out. The ridiculous blue and white dress with the puffy sleeves and the annoying petty coat flounced along as she hurried to her mother's side in front of the polished wood door. This neighborhood was rich, that was probably why they were there. Her mother had to talk and talk to gain entry to the sector. She had told all kinds of stories and lies. Her mother was good at it. She made men nervous; they fumbled and stuttered when she smiled at them. Sometimes they came to the hotel and Siln had to play outside until they left.
The man at the gate had finally accepted her story. A terrible identity theft had stained her reputation. A series of mishaps had led to her undocumented state. Acquiring the glider they drove had been a frightening adventure. They had gone to a place where men mostly went. Her mother made her hide in the alley under a sheet of wood. She came back and told Siln that the man was sleeping and wouldn't wake up all day. They had taken the cruiser and sped out of town. They slowly cruised through the neighborhoods. Her mom looked back and forth at each house. Her mom said they were looking for a certain type of place. Her mom gave her very strict instructions and made her repeat them back. No real names, smile and be polite, stay clean, say thank you. Siln knew well enough how important the rules were. Very bad things could happen if you didn't follow the rules. Terrible things. Bad people could get you and then you had to go to a place without your mother that was bad. Then more bad things, and more. It was very, very important to follow the rules.
Her mother straightened out her nice suit with the little coat as they stood in front of the immaculate door. The clothes they wore came from another house far away. The pretty but uncomfortable dress Siln wore fit her well. Her mom's suit was a little tight, but her mom said men liked clothes that way. She rang the bell and a prim older woman opened the door. The woman said good day to her mom and then bent down close to Siln's face. The old woman said, “Well, who is this? What's you name, sweety?”
Siln smiled sweetly and answered, “Chelsea.”
The woman said, “Well, Chelsea, what are you doing out this fine day?” The old woman was obviously glad to talk to somebody. This is going to be easy, thought Siln.
“I am selling raffle tickets for a new main interface at school,” Siln chirped.
Her mother said, “Townsend school sector is trying to improve their interface so they can get more feeds into the classrooms. I know this is a bit out of the Townsend sector, but Chelsea is trying to win the contest for who can collect the most.” Her mother smiled and patted her head. The dyed blond curls bounced in front of Siln's face as she tried to keep the fake smile plastered on her face.
“What will you win for a prize?” the old woman asked as if talking to a three year old.
“I get to go to Sky City,” Siln bubbled. Sky City was a marvelous place full of fun and wonders. There was not one single chance that Siln would ever see it. I wish I were in a real contest, Siln thought, I would win.
“Oh, how fun.” The old woman stood up and clasped her hands in front of her chest as though Sky City were the answers to her prayers. “How much are the tickets?”
That was her mom's department. The tickets were different prices depending on many things. These tickets were going to be expensive.
“Five commons. I know they are high, but the interface is so expensive. Poor little things have to go to the auditorium for Essentials.”
If they were lucky, the old woman would give them commons and not a voucher. They would have to sell the voucher on the black market. Her mother's credentials were not adequate for banking transactions. They were not adequate enough for her existence.
“Well,” the old woman said with a kindly look pointedly at Siln, “I think the poor little ones just don't get the education they deserve. Please wait here.”
That made her mother nervous. Sometimes people called the Forces instead of getting the money. This time luck was with them.
“I'll take three,” the old woman said.
Siln was so stunned by the idea that they had just won fifteen commons that she almost forgot to give the old woman the tickets.
“Give the nice woman her tickets, Chelsea,” her mother said with a hint of strain in her voice. Siln believed she would be getting another lesson in the importance of rules tonight for that mistake.
“Here you go. One, two, three. Thank you very, very much,” she said and she meant it. Getting fifteen commons meant they would be giving this game up for a while.
“Good luck with the contest,” the old woman called as they hurried away.
Oh yeah, remembered Siln, the contest. Sky City. As if she was ever going to Sky City. She was heading the other direction. They were headed for the Dives.
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* * *
Chapter 6
The Caveat
Siln stared slack-jawed and dismayed at her disheveled charge.
“This is him? I'm supposed to nurse maid this loon for the rest of my life?” She turned to face the emotionless Human Management official.
“If you decline the assignment, you will be sent to the Productivity Improvement colony for a period of five-hundred cycles. If you abandon him, you will be sent to the colony for life. If his account shows any irregularities, such as large transactions, you will be detained until the matter is explained. Are the terms of your deportation clear to you?” The Human Management official stood expressionless waiting for the pitiful creature in front of her to accept the inevitable.
Siln crumbled under the weight of the sentence. It was a bizarre paradox. She had received that which she never thought possible. She had found financial security and had a full set of credentials. She had her own ship! It was not a bad ship, either. She did not know how the freak beside her got his money, but it had been enough for a pretty decent ship. She was getting off the Lamda Sector Alpha planet scott-free. However, she had to spend the rest of her life with a person that did not even know what planet he was on. She hoped he didn't crimp her style, she was still going to need some spending money of her own.
“Yeah, yeah, alright. Just give me the credentials and we'll get out of here,” Siln said.
The official raised a small pointed device and touched it to Siln's arm. Siln recoiled at the touch.
“Cripes. Don't you people ever get tired of poking people? Did the old guy get his?” she said, jerking a thumb toward the man with the vacant expression.
“Mr. Van Ellen has been established and registered with Central Processing. You are now ordered to depart and not return under penalty of Productivity Improvement counseling.”
Siln turned without acknowledging the official. She walked across the hanger bay toward the pristine Steward Eight-Hundred that sat gleaming on the circular parking disc.
“Hey, vacuum man. Let's go,” she shouted over her shoulder.
The disheveled man in the baggy jumpsuit walk
ed to the ship with an air of dignity and saluted Siln before boarding.
“Oh yeah, welcome aboard.” she said, returning his salute.
Successful business travelers preferred the Stewart Eight-Hundred. They were nicely appointed in order to make important business travelers happy. They also carried a fine array of armament that was there to keep the customers feeling secure. Attacks were not good for business. The craft was bulky in appearance with the rear section being larger than the forward section. The styling suggested sleek efficiency. Business travelers wanted something more than a simple transport; they wanted a bit of prestige. Diamond glass inlays of various colors decorated the hull. The swirling pattern gave the impression of multi-colored winds against pearlescent sails.
Siln led her distracted charge up the rear ramp and through the rear port of the gleaming silver ship. She wanted to get a look at the engineering section that occupied the entire aft section. The ramp terminated on the first floor of the main deck. The landing ramp withdrew silently and the door shut with the reassuring sound a good seal makes. A soft whoosh followed by silence. Polished alloy handrails encompassed the walkways that ran around the edge of the two-story bay. A sleek run-about sat in the center of the deck. Siln was pleased beyond hope. It was the nicest ship she had ever seen.
She pulled her shipmate along to the crew section.
The inside of the craft was hushed. That was good. There was nothing worse than a noisy boat. All the edges of the storage lockers and bulkheads were padded. The floor was plush carbon-poly, very nice. Everything was colorful. Siln usually traveled in gray ships, everything gray. The cheapest color there is, gray.
Siln was familiar with the Steward line. She had commandeered a five-hundred series for a short hop. It had been nimble enough to evade the hapless Forces on Berhard Beta. A complete inventory on this one would have to wait. She had to get off this rock before the Forces got twitchy.
“Hey. Strap in,” she yelled to the man. He looked disoriented, confused. The man walked to the control room and strapped into the operator chair.
“Not that one. The other one,” she snapped. Did the loony bugger think he was going to pilot? She shook her head. He moved over and she plopped into the chair.
Man, this is nice, she thought to herself. She would have to train the neural interface later. Right now, she had to leave and the sooner the better.
She had to come up with a name for the ship. The word caveat popped into her head. Yeah, caveat, she thought. I have complete freedom now with one caveat. What a joke.
“Register Caveat identify,” she said.
The computer replied, “Name Caveat registered.”
Siln ran her hand across the communication panel and poked the transmit main channel box.
“Non-fleet Caveat departing vector one twenty-six by three hundred.”
The navigation unit came to life and the acknowledgement came up on the main panel.
“Okay, space man, hold on,” she said as she eased the craft off the hanger floor. The ship was smooth and responsive. “Nice,” she said to herself. She rotated the craft to face the exit port and took it out slowly. They exited the bay at twenty feet per second. Still moving slowly, she pointed the nose on the coordinates she had requested. The craft swung gracefully around. “Ok, let's mash,” she said and she rolled the thrusters up to full. Her head was thrown against the back of her chair so hard it hurt. She practically blacked out. “Good God,” she said, straining to reach the thruster dial at the lower right of the operator station. She rolled the thrusters back to one quarter. The acceleration was still impressive; they were breaking through the atmosphere twelve seconds later.
The Caveat had six ports in the crew cabin. That was a lot by most standards. The view outside faded from light brown to black. Van was suddenly overwhelmed by memories of countless, empty hours in his old ship. He desperately clawed at his flight harness. He fully intended to blow the hatch and jump out.
“Hey, space man. Easy.” Siln raced to the frantic Van and held him by his shoulders. She stooped down to look him in the eyes. “Its okay, we're fine. Everything is fine.”
The look of panic left his face. Van slumped down in the seat. He looked up at Siln as if seeing her for the first time. “Where am I?” he asked.
“Oh, man, you are a case aren't you?” she said laughing. “Don't you remember anything about getting on the ship?”
“No, I was in a fantasy. That happens to me a lot. I think I spent too much time in the sleep unit. Who are you?” he said suddenly realizing he did not know her.
“Well, my name is Siln. I am supposed to take care of you.” She released his shoulders and walked to the back of the cabin. She released the fasteners of the baggy gray jumpsuit she wore over her stretch suit and it fell to the floor. “Good riddance,” she muttered. The jumpsuits were the only clothing allowed for workers. It was very difficult to get a man, or a woman interested while wearing one of the shapeless and unattractive suits. One could put their arm behind their back and pull the suit tight enough to reveal a hint of a figure. The very act was illegal.
Van was not shocked by the sight of a human woman in her underclothes; it was a common occurrence in his fantasies. “I know I was adrift and rescued. I remember being in some kind of facility, but I don't remember much more than that. Why are you taking care of me?”
Siln explained the entire situation while she dressed. There was a disappointing lack of form-fitting material in the clothing compartment, but that would be rectified soon. When she finished, she said, “What is your name?” Siln really hadn't paid much attention through the whole sentencing thing.
Van had to think about it. He had so many names; he was not entirely sure which one was the right one. “Van, I think.”
“You think? You don't know?” Siln shook her head in disbelief. “How often does that happen to you, going off into dream land?”
“I can't be sure I'm not in a fantasy right now.”
“Okay, just try to stay out of trouble. It would probably be best if you just sat still,” she said, but Van wasn't listening. His eyes were glazed-over. “Jesus,” she said as she went to the engine room to check out the gear.
* * * *
The jungle was steamy and dense. His crash-landing had been nearly disastrous. The ship had survived but the port power cell had ruptured. He needed Diturium. The prospects of locating any on this planet did not seem good.
Small creatures scurried about his feet as he struggled through the undergrowth. He fought his way into a small clearing. He stood wiping his face as a hot fog drifted through the trees.
The silence suddenly gave way to a deep rumble. The trees in front of him shook violently as if something large was breaking through them. He pulled his weapon just as a monstrous insect broke through into the clearing.
When the creature sensed him, it raised up on its spindly legs, its sharp mandibles towering twelve feet above him. The creature reared back as if tensing for a lunge. A blinding flash of light accompanied by a thundering boom shook him. His vision returned slowly. The creature lay ruined amid entrails and body parts. He stood gaping at the smoldering remains of the creature wondering what had happened.
“Bona a mard'l puy,” a voice called.
He turned to face the speaker. A tall, dark-skinned blond woman wearing ragged skins faced him. She was holding a polished silver rod the size of a broomstick.
“Puy,” she shouted and the rod erupted in a flash and roar. The ground next to him evaporated.
He dropped his weapon and raised his arms sincerely hoping that was what puy meant.
She jerked the rod in the direction of the wasted insect and said, “Dorm to int stacy”
He began slowly walking towards the insect, again hoping he was following her directions. She came up behind him and poked him in the back hard. She shouted “Int Stacey.” He began walking briskly through the brush. They continued for some time. The jungle was radiantly beautiful. Lon
g hanging vines covered with pink and red flowers drooped from the canopy. Extravagantly decorated bird-like creatures soared between the giant trees. They walked up on a path covered in very large paw prints. The woman stepped in front of him and held a hand up. The woman crouched down, signaling him to do the same. They huddled under a broad-leaf plant for a time. She seemed assured that the creature that had made the tracks was not nearby. She put her finger to her lips and whispered “Puy.” She led him quietly though a narrow valley crouching and cautious. They exited the canyon and she signaled him to go first. His beautiful captor and savior directed his course with sharp commands and pokes with the fearsome weapon she carried.
The forest began to thin. The jungle gave way to scrub and then to a wide prairie. A gleaming city stood a kilometer in the distance. Tall glass spires rose above shining sky scrapers. Aircraft flew in all directions over the city. He wondered at the dichotomy between the savage woman that held him and the metropolis beyond.
As they neared the city the woman said, “Do.”
He stopped walking half expecting another sharp stab in the ribs. The woman stepped in front of him and spoke into the air. “Abat to dubain de arber,” she said and stood waiting.
A small silver hovercraft sped toward them from the city. It slowed to a stop in front of them. A distinguished man with gray hair regarded him openly. The man's clothing was modern but unadorned. There were no insignias or other trappings of authority. He looked at the woman and said, “Be avar. Bar.”
The woman turned and walked away. The man took a small round disk from his coat and held it in front of his face. He walked slowly forward. A flash of white light erupted between them. Ace was temporarily blinded. He tensed for an attack. When his sight returned, the man was standing at ease.
The man said, “You may enter, the force field is disabled.”
Ace was taken aback. “Who are you?” he asked.
The man said, “I am Rosan, you are in the city of Harthallen, and you are a prisoner of the woman who brought you to us. She has brought you here so that we may learn about your race. You will stay with us until we are finished, and then you will be returned to her. Her people are called the Tuvarn. They consider themselves the guardians of the planet. They are a populous race and inhabit much of the planet. They are an advanced people who choose to live primitively. The woman who took you may have looked like a simple native, but she could have destroyed the city if she chose to. You are lucky she did not vaporize you. You could do worse than being a prisoner of the Tuvarn.” The man gave him a sideways look and said, “They are a race of beautiful and strong women in need of men.”