There were a range of living quarters, a very old fashioned but functional 'town square' arrangement, but few shops were open, and some looked as if they’d been closed for some time. They found what looked like the only pub on the station.
They went in. It was rather dark, and had a few beings sitting at tables, on stools at the bar, around the windows, and at the back. It was also very quiet. The patrons all followed the group with their eyes as they made their way to the bar.
"What’ll you have?" said the bartender, a large hippo.
"Beer?" asked Jamie.
"Four beers!" stated the barman, with what looked like a grin, as he showed his stumpy teeth through a wide-open mouth.
They soon were variously sitting and perching at the bar with four large glasses of what looked like beer. Jamie took a tentative sip.
"Beer!" he said, and took a long pull.
The others sipped theirs. There was silence for a while.
"So", said Jamie to the bartender. "What’s on around here?"
"On?"
"You know. Events, entertainment, shopping?"
"Oh."
Jamie looked at him enquiringly.
"What would you like?"
"Err…"
"We could always put something on if you make a request."
"Ok."
There was silence again. The bartender rubbed an already clean glass with his towel.
"So where are you folks from?" he finally asked.
"Lately from the Cat planet."
"Oh? Nice."
"How long have you been on this station?"
"Me? Oh a while."
"Do you mind if I ask you a question?"
"Naw. Go ahead."
"There’s not many people on this station. And no business. What’s happened?"
The barman sighed a big gruff-ling sigh.
"We used to be the only decent station on the main trade routes from the back end of sector ten, though to sector seven. Lots of people, lots of ships, lots of Gals, lots of opportunity."
"And then?"
"It all dried up when they opened the new station at the jump point on the other side of the system. Big, brand new, loads more facilities, and out on the direct routes between the jump points, so no-one needs to come in-system any more. It's been slowly going downhill from there. Be different if the planet below us was inhabited, but no-one seems to want to live there." He sighed again, his whole hippo body lifting and falling audibly. "I’d leave, but I’ll never be able to sell up here, and I’ve no credits to start up again somewhere else."
"Who owns the new station then?"
"Who else? Bhatet of course."
Of course, thought Jamie. There were more ways to conquer others and gain power than military takeover. Economic power was also a way to get what you wanted at others’ expense. Unfortunately, it put them a great deal closer to Bhatet's interests than was healthy.
"So why are you here, if you don’t mind me asking?"
Jamie replied with a slight hesitation.
"We’re traders, but new to this part of the galaxy. We’d like to find out as much as we can about the area. Anyone we should talk to for information?"
The hippo thought for a moment. His greyish skin puckered around his eyes, and lines formed on his large forehead.
"You could try Old Hootsmoon. He’s a bit of a font of knowledge about these parts, the station, the system, history, and what Bhatet’s up to." He leaned forward and said quietly. "Keep it to yourself, though. He’s not exactly in Bhatet’s good books. Bhatet has spies everywhere."
He looked from side to side as though they’d suddenly materialise.
"Where can I find Old Hootsmoon?"
The hippo looked at the timepiece over the bar.
"He’ll be in at six. Regular as clockwork."
They had too much time to wait, so they finished their beers, and returned to their suite. They talked about how to approach Old Hootsmoon. Jamie and Snark said they’d meet with him, while the others would make sure they got to the dinner in time. Jamie and Snark would see whether it was worth making a proper meeting with Old Hootsmoon, and then Sissness, Anna, and Snark could ask what they needed to know.
Fifty Four
Old Hootsmoon turned out to be an Owl. It was a bit of a shock to Snark, who hadn’t thought they were much out in this sector these days, but also he was wary as Owls were, well obstreperous, war-like, stubborn, and egocentric. When he mentioned this under his breath to Jamie as a warning, Jamie suppressed a grin. It was also how one might describe Snark without the war-like. Jamie was more serious when Snark mentioned also that Owls were responsible for, and charged in the Sector Ten Council with, mass genocide.
The old owl was perched on a stool by the main bar. There was a glass of some kind of dark brown liquid, and Jamie had the thought it probably wasn’t Guinness. His feathers were grey, and looked as if moths had been at them, while his head was bald. Sad brown eyes with multiple bags under them stared morosely into his drink. His breathing whistled in and out.
The barman saw them coming, and poured two beers. He placed them carefully on the bar next to where the owl was sitting. Jamie and Snark sat and half-curled respectively.
Jamie was next to the Owl. He tried to make eye-contact but it didn’t work, so he made out to spill his drink in the Owl’s direction.
"Sorry!" he said to Old Hootsmoon.
The owl looked up briefly, his shoulders and arms lifting momentarily, and then he subsided to stare into his drink again, without acknowledging them.
Jamie tried again. He took the direct approach.
"I’m Jamie," he said loudly, and held his hand out close to the other’s drink.
Old Hootsmoon slowly swivelled his head to look at him with his sad eyes.
"Are you?" he said, and blinked slowly.
"And this is Snark."
Jamie indicated the cat next to him. His hand was still outstretched, and he waved it about a bit, and lowered it.
"Is he?" came the reply.
The voice was weak and quiet, with a quiver in it. His head swivelled back.
"We’re here to see you."
Jamie could see the bartender hippo shaking his head frantically, and pointing to himself.
The owl blinked again and scowled at the barman. He was busily washing clean glasses. He swivelled his head to look at them again, and his beak looked sharp and deadly. His expression was not friendly.
"So?"
"We’ve heard you know a great deal about this system, and part of the sector. We’d like to talk to you."
"And?"
"And, well, find out what you know?"
The owl did not look amused. Whereas most of his kind would have shot them on sight, he was renowned for his patience. He’d lived to become old mainly because he’d avoided the purple plant, and moved as far away from his kind as he could get. They were dangerous.
But now, he was at the end of a long life, and he’d seen just about everything the galaxy had produced. He was tired and bored. A human was an interesting proposition. Cats were common. Perhaps he could learn something new from the human.
"What do you want to know?" he asked Jamie.
"Well, we’d need to explain. We’d like to make a time, convenient to ye of course, to ask some questions."
"We?"
"I have some colleagues I’ll introduce you to, as well as Snark here."
"Hmmm. Other humans?"
"One other, Anna."
The owl opened his eyes suddenly, and hooted to himself. A human called Anna. Interesting. He contemplated the request. Perhaps…
"Tomorrow," he said suddenly. "The third quartile of the station shifts."
"Where can we meet wi’ ye."
"Here."
He turned back to his drink, and stared into its depths.
"Ah, weel, Thank ye. We’ll see ye, taemorrow then."
Snark noticed Jamie’s Scots accent got stronger the more confused h
e seemed.
They finished their drinks, and left the bar.
A short time later, they both wondered if leaving the bar had been the right thing to do.
"Oh my dears! Lovely to see you all! Too, too much of a pleasure really. Come in, come in!"
They were met by Crocatich dressed to the nines in a lovely floaty number, this time in burnt orange. Against her greenish skin, it looked dramatic, indeed. Grungle the frog was next to her as they were ushered in. Anna breathed a sigh of relief to see they were suitably dressed for a small informal dinner party, as it did appear this was what it seemed to her. At one side of the apartment was a large table with assorted types of chairs for different forms, and some oil lamps were burning. The lights were very low. The apartment was decorated in a mish-mash of styles and colours. Anna was a bit overwhelmed by the effect. She turned to her hostess, and handed over a bottle of what was some kind of alcoholic beverage which had been in their suite’s cooling unit. She thought the frog would probably know, but she didn’t particularly care. It was the thought which counted, anyway. If it was any good, Anna thought it would be secreted away, while the cheap stuff was consumed; and if it wasn’t any good, they’d be served it immediately.
"Oh you shouldn’t have," squealed Crocatich, and immediately put the bottle in her cooling unit. Obviously the former. "Please do have a seat in our comfy chairs."
She indicated the lounge area, where a number of types of softer chairs were arranged. They all came in, with the exception of Sissness, who'd stayed with the ship.
Anna sat on a low white pouffe, while Snark and Patters half-curled in different sized cat bed arrangements. Jamie sat on a padded stool.
They looked around them. Variously, a strange bird-looking thing with a large, thin, hooked beak, two bats, and what Anna recognised as something which wasn’t a camel, complete with a humped back; were sitting nodding at them. Introductions followed. It seemed the lead citizens of the station had been invited, including the Mayor and his partner, (the Bats), the doctor, (the not-camel), and the local authority on everything, (the weird bird).
There was a pause, while Crocatich passed around some canape sized bites of something unnamed. It looked suspiciously like blinis, but Anna had decided a lot of the food in this part of the galaxy did. They all sat holding one, and deciding whether to eat it.
"So!" exclaimed Crocatich "We’re all dying to know what you’re doing in our poor little neck of the woods. Of course, I said to Grungle here," she briefly waved at the frog, "I said, Grungle, I said, they look too much too good to be just traders. They’re on a mission!" Anna looked mildly alarmed. "Of course, it will be something to do with the humans beings on the Sector Ten Council now. They’ll be ambassadors or some such."
She looked enquiringly at them. Anna coughed.
"We’re really only just traders. We’ve made our way here, not really by design, but because we heard of the beautiful scenery of the planet below. And I said to Jamie here, Jamie, I said, I’d love to visit that system. So here we are!"
The others looked at her blankly, including her friends.
"Of course, yes!" Crocatich looked a bit confused, but continued. "Yes there is some quite beautiful scenery. Not that we’ve visited. You know as they say, you never get to visit in your own backyard. I’ve heard there’s an interesting archaeological site tourists used to visit. But it’s all shut now." She shook her head. "Shame, but there you are!" She brightened up again. "More canapes? Grungle serve the drinks!"
The frog almost leapt up, and brought round another bottle, and some glasses for the newcomers.
Anna’s ears had pricked up at the mention of an archaeological site. She made a mental note to herself to get more information. She could see the others had picked up on it as well.
The conversation continued, with some background for each of the worthy citizens, and some general bemoaning of the decline of the station. Crocatich was sure there was a deal being talked at the sector council levels which would solve all their problems, and the general noise was made about this.
Soon they made their slightly tipsy way to the table, where a series of courses of strange food was served. Again, the friends were unsure of what to eat, and how to either refuse, or push it around their bowls without seeming too rude.
"I’m interested in this archaeological site you mentioned," Anna suggested when the dessert dishes were served. It looked like ice-cream. No it couldn’t possibly be. She tasted a bit carefully. It had the texture and frozenness of ice-cream, but unfortunately tasted like boiled cabbage.
"Oh that!" exclaimed Crocatich. "Such a good tourist draw in its time, but they shut it up, oh ages ago. There are some lovely, err, cave pictures evidently, and some kind of stones they think was some kind of temple. They don’t know who lived there really, but there was lots of information in the library here I think. Flumberly. You’d know!"
She turned to the Camel. He stroked his wisp of beard on his long nose thoughtfully, and chewed his large lips.
"Oh yes! I haven’t thought about it in years."
He proceeded to embark on a long story about an expedition he’d been on to the planet of Bungle, a jungle planet, looking for medicines.
"Err," broke in Anna, her eyes glazing over. "About the caves on the planet below us? The paintings?"
"Oh yes! Didn’t see them myself, but I believe there’s someone on the station who has had a lot to do with them." He stroked his beard again. "Hauntman? Hootsmoon? Yes that’s it! Odd fellow." He leaned forward confidentially. "An owl you know."
Soon after, they made their regretful goodbyes, and made a hasty escape.
Fifty Five
Bhatet was at his private console. He’d just had a large meal comprising of his favourite food, Mouse. He'd been extremely annoyed when the supply of Mouse was interrupted by Interloper Jane liberating and protecting the nearest source planet. He’d been so annoyed, the only way to placate him was the mass execution of a number of prisoners being held in the dungeons. He still had a frozen supply, but it was dwindling. The humans were going to be more than just a nuisance, he knew. Although there was a power vacuum in this sector now, the humans were likely to come here, and there would be a fight for supremacy. Bhatet needed to be ready.
He needed that ship. With what he'd learn about its weapons and systems, he could build a fleet which would rival the human's power, and crush everyone for sectors around.
He’d been kept up to date with the Seasprite’s whereabouts by the Brotherhood, and his own spies. They’d gone direct to the Patch system from the cat planet, and made repairs. He should have been ahead of them there, but he’d been distracted by an insurrection in one of his outer systems. He’d had to put his mind to putting it down, brutally of course. There had been some fun to be had, and he'd got a bit carried away. But he’d missed anticipating they’d need to make repairs, and so hadn’t had people waiting at every repair station in easy range. Hence he'd missed them at Patchet's station, which was a likely choice.
His information told him Patchet himself was human. Very interesting. He’d sent a fleet of three ships there, to see what information they could get out of Patchet, but he was gone. No-one seemed to know where. He’d just shut up his engineering works and vanished, straight after the Seasprite left. There was also little information on the station about where the Seasprite was headed. And logically there was no further destination which he could foresee. The jump points in that part of space perhaps could indicate a search zone, but it was large.
He'd already notified his agents and the Brotherhood in the search zone to give him any and all information related to humans and the Seasprite as possible. They would turn up. And when they did, he would be there.
He wouldn’t wait though. He'd instructed his agents to round up the usual suspects, and carry out interrogations.
Someone would know something. And if they didn’t, they'd better enjoy having a very bad day.
Fifty Six
Anna tried not to appear overly impatient. She wanted to know everything! OK slow down and take a deep breath. Sissness spoke up instead.
"We’re looking for a Stone, or a Talisman," she blurted out.
Anna looked at her angrily. She’d given the game away!
The old owl looked thoughtful, and hooted a whistling, mournful sound.
"Ah," he said softly. "Then it’s you at last."
Snark, Sissness, and Anna looked at each other in bewilderment. Old Hootsmoon whistled as he took a series of deep breaths.
They were sitting in the old Owl's small apartment on the station. Old books, papers, and printouts lay about in stacks and strewn around on tables, on shelves and on the floor. The only chairs also had piles of materials on them. They'd cleared enough seats for themselves, but they were perched awkwardly. There was a musty Owlish, bookish, smell. Of damp, dust, and mould.
"Bhatet has been after me for a long time to tell him what I know. He knows if he tries to take me, I’ll not let him interrogate me. We’ve been in a sort of stalemate, especially as I don’t think he knows I'm still here. There was a rumour going around I'd died you see. Very helpful."
"Tell me about the stone," said Anna. "The talisman." She leaned forward, almost mesmerised by his large wide-open eyes. "I’ve been Seeking the Destiny Stone. My people lost it centuries ago, and we must get it back. It has great power. It needs Custodians. I need to be the Custodian."
Snark looked at her in disbelief. She’d never said anything about this before.
The owl nodded.
"Yes, it's you. A human. Anastasia of the Romanovs."
Anna stopped breathing. How did he know her name?
"When I first came here, I was employed at the dig down on the planet. A large well-preserved cave was discovered with unbelievable frescoes of exquisite detail, colour, and movement. They were dated, but no one could agree about the dating. Out of time, they seemed." He looked up. "By that I mean the dating evidence didn’t match the sophistication of the artwork, and general execution. There was a local species there, but at no time could they have ever achieved this level of artistry. No-one agreed either on what the frescoes meant. Or how it related to what seemed to be a temple laid out in the main cave. But I looked further. I researched the station archives for the local inhabitant's records. They'd had written language, but it was very basic. And the local inhabitants themselves, I talked with the last of them before they left, to learn the local myths, legends and stories."
Snark's Quest Page 20