Circuit, who was the next to appear on the bridge, mumbled to himself down the ramp and went to the navigator’s seat where Krabbel was sitting. He held up a scanner. “Sorry, captain, but the navigational sensors are off by 0.05 percent to the true course that is selected. I pinpointed the problem to the navigational console.”
I leaned forward. “What you are doing is not affecting our plan to land on Alvor’s Cove, right?”
“No, captain, but 0.05 percent can amount to many light years off the course. It has not affected us because Krabbel is so good he noticed and compensated. Sometimes, I think our Archa friend has a nav-tank implanted in his body somewhere. What bugs me is that the discrepancy is hardware-caused.” He crawled basically under Krabbel’s seat.
Krabbel was visibly proud and basked in the praise of his friend. “I always envision the star charts like the nets we used to make before our industrial revolution; it’s somewhat genetic with us and therefore easy.”
I got up and looked over Krabbel’s torso and onto his panel. “I still think we have the best navigator. Having the Heinemann display open on your readouts instead of the more common Natuuk-Ult display shows that.”
Shaka piled it on. “There is never even the slightest error; we are always down to the meter scale where we are supposed to be.”
Krabbel balled up and chirped something in his high-pitched voice and then said, “It’s not even my egg sac crawling day and you are so nice to me. I am so proud.”
I patted his furry torso and then I watched the brownish desert planet grow larger on the screen. “Say, Krabbel, are you wearing a scent? It smells really fruity and sweet.”
He produced a pinkish-looking spray bottle from a pocket of his uniform. “That is Thomson’s Bubble Gum shampoo. Mao got it for me, and it smells like vanilla and strawberry ice cream to me.”
“Well, you’re taking your addiction very seriously, I must say!”
Elfi giggled. “You haven’t seen his ice-cream cone print bed sheets or his ice-cream themed pajamas.”
I rolled my eyes. “If there was ever a more unusual image before my inner eyes than Krabbel in pajamas then I sure don’t remember!”
Elfi became serious and said, “We are being hailed, captain.”
I returned to my seat, completed my costume with the mask, and Elfi put the caller on the screen.
A gruff-looking Oghar with unusual brown skin color instead of the common green said, “Who are you and what is your business here?”
“This is Black Velvet of the Silver Streak and my business is whatever I make it.”
I noticed that both of his tusks were broken and filed to uneven nubs. Even for an Oghar, he looked particularly unkempt, and I could almost smell him even through the visual.
He scratched his chin. “All right, you are known, and if you want, you can land here. However, there isn’t much space left on the landing field, so put her down anywhere you like. Landing fee has increased to 200 polo chips and every day you are here, there is a water tax of 50 polos. Regardless if you have your own or not, you are to obey the Rules of Local Lord Sihoc, the sole owner of this world.”
He looked at an actual list written on a piece of cardboard, and he dragged his long finger claw across the list as he said, “We sell fuel for 1,400 polo full weights per standard Nogto bulb. If you sell slaves, there is a five percent slave sales tax. Buying slaves is tax free, of course.”
“Not that I need any fuel at the moment, but isn’t 1,400 polos for a single bulb a little pricey?”
“Don’t know where you have been, Black Velvet, but demand commands the price and we have got limited supplies and lots of customers.”
I said to my helmsman, “Take us down then.”
Shaka landed not far from the Red Dragon. The landing field was crowded with ships.
He powered down the main engines with an elegant sliding move with his right hand and raised his helmet. “Looks like a regular who’s-who of crooks and pirates out there.”
Hans was already busy comparing them with Union databanks. “Eighteen of the ships out there are on wanted lists, mostly for acts of piracy, and there are 21 smaller vessels, privateers and scavengers, of which six are known to be operated by wanted criminals.”
I got up and said, “I wonder what they are all living off of and why there are so many pirates in Freespace.”
Har-Hi said, “Freespace is almost as big as our core Union Space and there are many independent civilizations, colonies, mining and industrial centers. There is trade and lots of spaceship traffic. Civilian companies of the Big Four do business here, so there are rich pickings for pirates and, of course, there is no cohesive or united law enforcement of any kind.”
Hans added, “Captain, there are over 3,000 known pirate ships operating on this side of the Galaxy and that is not counting the Dai.”
I sighed. “If that is the case, we are going to be hunting pirates forever.”
Har-Hi grinned. “If there wasn’t a war going on, there would be nothing I’d rather do for the rest of my life, and I am convinced that the crew thinks so, too.”
Elfi said, “I could be stuck in a boring palace and attend boring state affairs.”
Mao turned and said, “Or we could be doing duty as first-year ensigns somewhere in the bowels of a battleship or even a planetary base or something.”
Xon, who stood in the back, growled, “By the rate you are eliminating pirates and criminals, it might not be all that long.”
I had to admit they had a point and, truth to be told, if there wasn’t all this mystery in my own life, I would also enjoy this much more.
Mao pointed to the pirate ships we could see on the main viewer and said, “We should simply blast them all, bomb the entire planet, and at least this quadrant of space would be clean.”
I also looked at the ships out there. “I am tempted to do just that. I have been here before. This place is worse than Sin 4 in many regards. Maybe we can get a few before we leave by picking a fight, but for now, we’re going to stick to the plan. Har-Hi, Hans, Sobody, and TheOther, you’re with me. We’re going to pay the landing fee and keep your eyes open. I doubt they have forgiven us for the dinner surprise yet.”
Circuit had unloaded one of our camouflaged landing tanks and we crossed the landing field.
While Har-Hi sat behind the controls and steered the vehicle across the glaring landing field, I remembered how I ran across it, getting sunburned, trying to escape. To my disdain, I actually saw that Velorian slave trader among the other ships. I recognized it by the shoddy repair work to its ceramic hull. I wondered how many miserable poor souls had been transported to this hellhole of a planet only to be auctioned off and sold to death on Togar dinner plates or to a short life of hard work and misery.
While I was brooding over that and wondering what I could to do change it, we reached the mouth of the canyon and a collection of buildings made out of local rock. A crowd of beings had gathered under a sun roof extending from the largest building. A collection of flyers, other landing tanks, and similar surface vehicles were parked in a semi-circle before that building. A hand-painted sign declared this building to be the Alvor’s Cove Port Authority.
As we got out, I recognized Red Dragon, Crimson Curse, and Captain Meateater. Even though both were Oghar, I had learned to differentiate and Crimson Curse looked more affluent and cleaner.
The crowd parted as we approached and created an opening to the door of the building.
Red Dragon, who was standing with his back toward us, turned and said, “Ah, the formidable Black Velvet made it out in time as well. I bet the Union would have had a field day with you, having a live Y’All in your crew and all, so I had already feared you fell victim to those Union bastards.”
I played the uninformed and said, “Well, I guess with the Union violating Freespace, there will be war and this place won’t be safe either.”
He laughed dryly. “With all those treasures in your rust bucket, you
should invest in some sort of FTL comm equipment. It looks like your ship lacks good FTL comm or you didn’t listen to the right channels. Sin 4 became a Union planet; the Freespace Treaty was not violated. A Terran crook who was hiding on Sin 4 by the name of Fusionbeam or something like that managed to smuggle a delegation of Stik natives off the planet. They traveled to Pluribus and applied for membership, asking for help. Normally, it takes the Union many months to complete the PUMA process, but the Stik were declared members basically overnight. Then the Union Fleet jumped on that opportunity. I bet none of our planet-bound friends managed to see another day.”
“PUMA process?”
“Whoever you are, I am now convinced you didn’t grow up in the Union. Potential Union Member Assessment. A whole set of tests and investigations to see if the new member understands what Union membership means; that with all the rights and privileges also come responsibilities. Mind you, not everyone is accepted. These Union bastards are very picky who they let in their midst.”
Meateater growled, “I heard Stahl was there himself and that means their hangmen have to run shifts to string up everyone who is on some list somewhere.” He touched his own throat. “Nasty way to go; it takes an Oghar hours to die on the rope.”
A man wearing a brown dustcloak and goggles said, “It won’t happen here. There are no sentient natives and since the Local Lord has no desire to be hanged, he sure won’t ask for Union membership.”
The Dragon asked the goggle-wearing man, “How about the Brown People? Aren’t they native?”
“No, they came here a long time ago, but they are from somewhere else.”
Har-Hi, Sobody, and I went in the building. There, behind a wooden counter, sat the brown-skinned Oghar and two beings that looked like large pill bugs.
Har-Hi whispered, “Those are Velorians; they hate the Union with a passion. The brown being is an Or-ghe.”
“Another one?”
“A species can have many races and yes, another one.”
“You sound just like Narth.”
“Thank you, captain.”
Sobody argued with the brown Or-ghe and managed to haggle down the landing fee. He paid the being. One of the Velorians counted the polos and scanned them while the other hammered a colorful stencil mark on a sheet of paper and handed it to me.
“Here is your landing permit and your proof that you paid your water tax for five days in advance.”
While Sobody talked to the Or-ghe, I took a moment to look around this one-room building. There were large paper displays; I think they were called posters. One featured a color image of Tirkov the Mercenary and a bounty of 50,000 polos. I doubted anyone would risk their lives for that kind of money. Right next to it was another wanted poster with a grainy picture probably taken through a long-range optic of cheap quality. It was me, or better, it was Eric Olafson, standing before the freight ramp of the slaver ship. I only recognized myself because of the others standing there with me. The text referred only to a Human slave of unknown, probably Terran, origin and there was a bounty of 15,000 credits plus the offer of tax-free living on Alvor’s Cove. The poster was only one of a dozen featuring the images and descriptions of escaped slaves and wanted persons.
Other prints advertised fuel prices, with the prices crossed out by hand several times and new ones written below.
The Mulwhur Trading Company offered trade deals and discounts for slave dealers. The text and the offers offended me quite a bit.
A man huddled in the usual local garb of a sand-colored dustcloak with hood and goggles entered. He lowered the hood and pushed the goggles and to my surprise revealed a Dai Than. His red skin was much darker than Har-Hi’s, and it looked as if he regretted his decision to reveal himself as he saw my Dai friend.
Har-Hi also appeared to be astonished to see a Dai. While his right hand dropped to his blaster, he made a series of signs with his left.
One of the Velorians behind the counter said, “If you want to fight then you need a Kill License that you can purchase right here for 5,000 polos.”
The newcomer raised his unarmed hand and bowed. “I am of the Clan Tun-Ha that no longer exists. I am Okthi and I surrender. There is no honor lost to yield to a Hi master, even if he, too, appears to be Okthi.”
Har-Hi looked down his nose and was about to say something offensive I was certain, but then my friend visibly changed his mind and said, “There is no purpose in slaying the last of the Tun-Ka Clan as our numbers dwindle. Let us share a Thil and exchange words.”
To me, Har-Hi said, “Captain, may I ask permission to leave your side for a few hours?”
I didn’t like him to go unescorted, but he was well armed and able to contact the ship and us. In order to get information and to do our job, we could not simply stay inside the ship and I could not do everything myself.
“Be careful and raise a mug on my behalf as well and return when you are done.”
He turned and left with the other Dai.
Sobody said to me, “We are done here as well, captain.”
I said to the Velorian, “This Kill License, what does it allow me to do?”
The being said, “You can kill someone and the local guard will be on your side and clean up the mess, too.”
“Just one?”
The Velorian had two short antennas-like appendages on his insectoid head that stuck out the segmented armor of his body and these antennas wiggled excitedly. “We do have the Grand Maximus Permit. Unlimited kills, maiming, and torturing included and it also includes any brawls or fights. But no one has ever bought it as it costs 10,000 polos.”
“I’ll take it.”
The antennae wiggled so hard I thought they were about to fall off. The brown-skinned Or-ghe opened a locked chest and retrieved a colorful piece of paper and a different wooden stamp thing. Hans stomped in after I called him to bring the money, and Sobody counted the polos on the counter.
The smudgy Or-ghe performed almost a little ceremony out of stamping the paper and then handed me a metallic badge. “I am a big fan of yours, Black Velvet. I have seen your fight with the Stomper, and we heard a lot about you. Everything they say seems true. Kill anyone you want. The Local Lord will applaud and cheer and won’t care whoever bites the dust.”
I took the paper and the badge, and we went back outside. The news that I’d purchased this permit had already spread between the beings still gathered there.
The Red Dragon eyed the crude metal badge. “Anyone in particular?”
I shrugged. “No, not really. I am just not in the best of moods this time of the month and getting no fuss from the locals when I express my displeasure is worth a few polos.”
He glanced at TheOther and Hans and said, “With such a crew for backup, I doubt anyone will try.”
“That doesn’t mean I intend to support the local economy with my water tax for very long. I came to hear if you still have something to say to me and if there is a future with me following you around. If not, there is business to attend.”
He spread his arms. “Yes, I want to offer you to be part of my endeavor, now more than ever as I am convinced you are the right fit. You are indeed a mystery but are as hard-boiled as the rest of us. We came here as Captain Meateater still has to do some work on his drive. Then we are off to Itheamh to discuss our planned endeavor. Does that suit you?”
“If he can’t even make it across a few light years, how does he hope to make it across 25,000 light years?”
Red Dragon turned to the Oghar. “It is a valid question, you know.”
Meateater grunted something about insults and squeezing my head off and then with a louder voice and clear language he said, “I need three days; my engineer will have them patched up good enough so we can reach Itheamh, where I will purchase new engines.” He then extended his clawed hand and pointed at me. “You better be careful, Velvet. No one survives long making fun of me.”
I stepped forward. “And I have not forgotten your conduct aboard my
ship. The next time you so much as utter a threat against me it will be the last thing you do, and you won’t need engines for the journey I am sending you on.”
He wanted to say something but TheOther stepped closer. Hans picked up a head-sized rock and it exploded to a cloud of dust and pieces as he crumbled it in his immense fists. “I can do that to skulls, too!”
Meateater stepped back, almost as if trying to find cover behind the Red Dragon.
I polished the badge I just received and said, “You were saying something, Meateater?”
The Red Dragon laughed. “I am not sure what to make of you, Black Velvet, but as I said, I like your style.”
“I’ll wait three days. No longer.”
“Three days, Captain Velvet.”
We returned to the ship. Circuit watched the Intruder, Meateater’s ship, over high-definition optics and said, “His engineer seems capable in a mediocre way, but he has a major job to do and from the looks of it, only marginal skilled help. I think he is going to be lucky if they make it in four days, working around the clock.”
So, I called a conference and switched to ship wide for those who could not attend.
“It appears we will be here for three or four days. If anyone has an idea how we could close this miserable place forever without blowing our cover, I am all ears. Just as we returned, I saw a group of slaves herded to the slave pens. Some of them might be Union citizens.”
Narth said, “Maybe the Local Lord is the key to this as he is the sole authority here if we could convince him of his wrongful ways.”
“That would need some serious convincing; I doubt he will go for that.”
Shea said, “We have to be careful. The Togar are not far from here, and they are not signatory to the Freespace Treaty. If they suspect Union tinkering or influence they might declare war and this is not a good idea in the current situation. Or they might simply move in and take over this place.”
The Golden said, “We need to find out more about this place. I know you don’t want to hear it but maybe you let me go and get a feel for the place. Narth will come along and everyone will be robed and hooded. We will blend in just fine.”
Eric Olafson Series Boxed Set: Books 1 - 7 Page 123