by Mark Wandrey
"Touché," he chuckled.
They chatted about nothing in particular for a few minutes until the portal flashed brightly and his console displays came alive in response. Minu sat bolt upright as he read the incoming transmission. "Sorry girl, just a merchant from Beezer." Her shoulders fell and she looked up to watch the delegation come through the portal. “Besides, he'll be coming back through the portal at Steven’s Pass,” he reminded her.
“I know, I know,” she grumbled, still hoping for a surprise. Out in the room where the portal was protected, huge forms began to appear.
The beings were easily four times her size, great hairy bipeds shambling through from a world light years away. They slightly resembled bison from Earth, only these bison rose onto their hind feet after clearing the portal, now almost three meters tall. The Beezers bowed slightly to where Jovich and Minu sat safely on the other side of a thick transparent moliplas barrier. They seemed to waiver slightly and Minu instantly knew that Jovich had activated the containment shield for safety. Not every being which came through the portal would be friendly to the humans on Bellatrix.
They regarded Jovich with dark black-on-black eyes, mouths hanging slightly open to reveal rows of blunt chisel-like teeth. Each possessed a pair of ram-like horns that curled back over their heads and were ornately decorated with alien script inlaid with rare and precious gems. These were almost certainly merchants, and quite successful ones she guessed.
"Greetings, beings," Jovich said as he rose and proscribed a bow the exact equal to the one the guests offered, "to what do we owe the honor of your visit?" Minu could just make out the grunting sound of the Beezer language echoing on the other side of the barrier before it was translated courtesy of the portal’s operating system.
"We are here to meet with Malovich, of your species, to discuss trade." the larger of the two huffed and grunted. Jovich consulted his computer before replying.
"I most humbly apologize for the misunderstanding; there are no trade delegations scheduled today."
The huge alien regarded Jovich for a long second before speaking again, this time the grunts and barks seemed less hostile. "You do your patrons well in being so diligent with your leasehold. You are correct; the timetable has changed for our meetings. Kindly contact Malovich of your species and this will be explained."
"Understood, kind being. You will await my response in the chamber as offered by the Law?"
"We shall," was the simple reply
Jovich nodded and made the window opaque to almost black. "Damn, I hate kissing their asses," he grumbled in a voice like rocks rolling inside a wooden drawer.
"Then why do you? The Beezer are the same status as we are, albeit a bit farther along their indenture than we are."
"Because we are babes in the woods, young girl." Jovich finished keying in a message to the computer and turned to her. "The Law states that each species must be provided with a portal by its patrons, but not that they have control of it. Allowing us to operate our own portal without supervision is a big thing. We Chosen take it very seriously."
"Is that why they place an old has-been like yourself in charge?"
He chuckled and nodded his head. "Not everyone can kiss an ass like your Uncle Jovich," he cocked a thumb toward the invisibly waiting Beezer, "especially an ass that hairy."
"You’re disgusting," she squealed and slapped him on the shoulder. The muscles were like steel underneath, despite his age. He grinned big and turned to read the message that just arrived.
"Old Malovich is indeed in the city proper," he said as he read the communiqué.
"I could have told you that, I ran into the jerk with his prodigal son on the trolley while heading this way."
"Thanks for letting me in on the secret." Jovich dialed the window back to translucent and stood to address the aliens. "Gentle beings, you are welcomed to Bellatrix. Our code of customs and laws are available on a data chip in the bin by the door. You are granted free access within the boundaries of the city you stand in, Tranquility. Enjoy your stay." He bowed and flipped the safety release. The shield flickered out and she saw the exit door slide silently into the wall. A second later, the two Beezer shuffled by without even looking at them. The smell soon followed.
"I never get used to the stench either," Jovich said when he saw her expression, "and I've been around the great beasties for almost three decades."
"Why do aliens always have to stink?" Minu gasped, trying not to breathe through her nose as the filtration system struggled to clear the air.
"I'm sure they say the same about us." Minu gave him s skeptical look but held her tongue. As a Chosen he'd seen more aliens in person than she had on TV. In a minute, they were alone in the building again.
"Thank goodness," Jovich said and turned back to his screens. Minu sat with her old family friend for more than an hour, hoping either her father would appear or that some word would be relayed through the off world network as to his ETA. Finally, Jovich spoke up again. "Hadn't you better be getting home?" It was more of an order than a hint.
"Yeah, it is getting late." Minu shouldered her small pack and headed for the door. It turned out Jovich wasn't done.
"You still set on taking the Trials?"
"What do you think?" she asked, brushing hair dirty from sweat away from her eyes. "It’s lucky to be between fourteen and sixteen when the Trials come."
"You don't think I've known that? I've been a Chosen through ten times of the Chosen you know."
"Really? You don't say? I'd never guess it was more than nine!" He started to smile then saw the look on her face. He suddenly growled in mock anger and jumped up to run after her. She squealed and quickly ducked through the door. Of course Jovich didn't pursue and she was soon jogging across the quad toward the Chosen Tower.
The elevator opened on the top floor and she walked down the short hall to her apartment. The door recognized her bioprint and opened as she approached. It was a rather large apartment; then again it once held three.
Minu dropped her bag by the door and went into the kitchen. With the punch of a couple buttons, dinner was cooking and she headed for her room. She shed clothes along the way and was naked by the time she reached the shower. She wouldn't have done that with her father here, not since she was five. Having the place to herself did have its advantages. The shower sensed her presence and came on, automatically setting the temperature to her preferred level. The high-pressure water spray was almost scalding. She luxuriated in the heat and steam for a scandalously long time.
Her body and hair clean she stepped from the shower to towel herself dry. The mirror wall was naturally free of steam and she surveyed the effect. Her bright red hair fell almost to her now considerably wider hips. In her mind she still expected to see a little girl in the mirror. When she looked at the woman looking back it was slightly bewildering. Gracefully sweeping hips, compact and well-formed breasts, wasp thin waste, thin but muscled arms and a patch of hair between her legs matching in color that on her head betrayed the fact of her womanhood.
"I don't feel like a woman," she mumbled as she fished a fresh pair of sweats from the automated cleaner. Minu decided she'd clean up the discarded clothes later and headed for the kitchen. The smell of roasted meat and vegetables was almost overpowering and lured her like bait. She allowed herself to be reeled in and dished up a big plate from the server then sat at the table. The apartment always felt the emptiest at times like this. As she ate, she glanced at the empty seat across from her and wished things had turned out differently. When her father was gone for weeks on end, halfway across the galaxy on some dangerous task, the apartment never truly felt empty, until last year.
After her meal was finished and plates dumped in the sink she retreated to her own bedroom. Inside she accessed the Concordia-manufactured computer terminal and checked her mail. The normal fare was messages from friends or updates on grades. Instead what she found was an encrypted message from the Chosen office. Her heart raced as
she opened the message.
To: Minu Alma
From: Office of the Chosen - Department of Trials
Re: Testing
We have received your data packet with proscribed entrance application testing, and we wish to congratulate you on obtaining a passing score. You are invited to the Chosen Trials which commence on the 5th day of Julast next. There is no opportunity for retesting. If you cannot attend, the next test will be held in four years at which you will be ineligible by your age.
Yours sincerely,
Chosen Testing System
Minu re-read the message twice so there was no question of what it said. She'd passed the entrance testing. Only one in a thousand even made it that far. She jumped up and ran halfway to her father's room before she remembered there was no one there. Her frail form came to a stop, letter dangling from her hand in disappointment. With a sigh, she returned to her room and got ready for bed. No doubt Jovich knew about this when she'd been with him earlier, the sneaky old bastard. Besides her father, there was no one else to tell of her accomplishment. None of her friends were taking the test. She thought to her father’s comment of the lack of boyfriends in her life. Maybe he had a point, if a small one. Loneliness enveloped her as sleep took over. Some minutes later the apartment sensed its sole occupant was now asleep and dutifully began shutting off lights and powering down other systems.
Chapter 3
June 29, 514 AE
Frontier Space, Unknown Star System
Where in the hell was P'ing? Chriso glanced at his tablet and quietly cursed. He'd never say anything about their Tog leader in front of the other Chosen, but he still thought it. The ten men in his squad looked at their leader and, like him, said nothing. They didn't have to; he could tell they were as worried as he was. Who wouldn't be worried? More than a million light years from home and no way to get back, stuck on a long abandoned alien space station, and being hunted by insanely powerful beings bent on their death and destruction.
"All in a day’s work."
"What was that, Eric?" Chriso asked the man, wondering how his thoughts had been read.
"Oh, I was just thinking that this is all in a day’s work. You know, flitting around the universe stealing stuff."
Chriso laughed and shook his head. "We're not stealing," he said and glanced at the reinforced dualloy backpack resting nearby, "you can't steal what someone has thrown away." There were five other such packs, each stuffed with invaluable castoffs from ancient and powerful species. One man's garbage is another's treasure. Still he hadn't found what he was looking for. The salvage was just a side job, an excuse to come so far into the frontier. He'd been trying to pry out some details on the world below while waiting for the Tog to bring them home. This planet was on his special list; it was also claimed by powerful enemies of the Tog.
"I think the T'Chillen disagree," Eric said.
"The snakes have an overdeveloped sense of ownership," Chriso said dryly, causing a few other nearby Chosen to mumble curses. And now the snakes were here and his plan was going off the tracks. "How long you been a Chosen?"
"Almost a year, sir," Eric said and looked self-conscious.
"You’re part of the reserve group, aren't you?"
"Yes."
"Nothing to be embarrassed about, son. Lots of kids don't make the final cut. You were close or you wouldn't have undergone primary training."
"Missed the cut by one percentage point."
Chriso nodded his head and then patted Eric on the arm. "Well, I for one am glad you took the reserve training. We need good men like yourself. As you know, this is a dangerous job." Eric nodded his head and turned to look at the other end of the chamber they rested in. A massive wall a hundred meters high and maybe a kilometer long stretched into the distance. The shape of the station made it appear to angle toward them as it narrowed to a point far away. On the other side was a vista of stars and a small curve of the planet below. There was more moliplas in that one window than on all of Bellatrix.
"Dangerous it might be, but I love the scenery." None of them laughed at that. The boy was right; it was the best view in the universe.
"Activity!" yelled Vance, the Chosen Chriso left to monitor the portal. Chriso jumped to his feet, slinging the armored pack over his shoulder and running to the portal. The rest of the squad followed.
"Can you tell who it is yet?" he asked Vance.
"No sir, not yet. They don't have this specific portal address." The man worked with their team’s portal control rod. A very valuable piece of equipment that the Tog rarely entrusted to them except on important missions.
"They're trying to lock in this system?"
"No doubt about it," Vance agreed. “They're probably tracing us from the last stop. Only a matter of time.”
Chriso nodded. The other nine members of his squad joined them in a rough circle and waited for their leader to speak. "We have inbound," he told them and began to prepare his weapon. Most of them had worked with him for years and needed no further prodding, except for the young Eric.
"How do we know it isn't the Tog?" he asked, his worry obvious at seeing the weapons.
"The Tog know the identification code for this portal," Chriso told him as he assembled his weapon. "Whoever is trying to find this portal only knows there is an active destination, not the specific one. They're querying each portal nearby for activity until they find the one we came through."
"Maybe they won't find the code." Chriso reached over and unsnapped the flap on Eric's pack and began to remove the gun inside. He asked Eric for a tool and finally got him involved in the process. Eventually the young Chosen took over the assembling of his own weapon and Chriso moved on to check the others.
The weapons were embarrassingly simple, but it was what they had. In his travels around the massive Concordia Empire he'd seen an incredible variety of fantastic weaponry. Unimaginable ways of killing and destroying entire cities, perhaps even laying waste to a world. His Chosen were armed with chemical-propelled firearms nearly identical to what the survivors of Earth brought with them.
What they had was Concordia-made technological improvements to their ancient technology. The bullets they fired were many times more lethal than anything ever made on Earth. Chriso not only understood the principles behind EPC bullets and programmable trajectories, he'd designed many of the improvements personally. They weren't beamcasters, but at least it gave them a fighting chance.
"What information do we have on this station?" he keyed into his computer.
"No information is available on this specific station," was the reply.
"Extrapolate based on information available," he typed. The device was often obstinate and purposely evasive when asked seemingly obvious questions. The database was a gift from the Tog and contained a vast amount of knowledge.
"The Concordian abandoned space travel more than a hundred thousand years ago in favor of the much more efficient portals."
"I don't need a damn history lesson!" Obstinate was an understatement sometimes.
"This station has been essentially abandoned for one hundred centuries and information is very limited. Based on the curvature of the viewing portal on this promenade, it could be estimated this is a Beta Class orbital transfer station, commonly used in this section of the Empire. They were used mostly to transfer passengers and cargo from planet to surface via short-ranged portal networks."
"So there should be other portals on this station?" he asked, looking around at the rubble of the station interior.
"It is reasonable to assume, however those portals will only be linked with the planet surface. This station’s presence speaks to the time prior to large scale intergalactic portal travel. In the antiquity of the Concordia chronology, planetary portals were kept on stations such as this to better facilitate defense of a world."
"Okay, that's fine," he said to himself, cutting off the computer with a cancel key before it went off on an a couple hundred pages of crap. The database m
ight be miserly with information, but once it got going on a subject they were hard to stop. "Link with our portal control rod," he instructed and quickly got up to address his team. Then a thought occurred to him. “Access file titled ‘da Vinci’. Is it possible the target in question is on the planet surface?”
“Working. You are requesting pure extrapolation.”
“Perform action.”
“It is possible. No further extrapolation is feasible.”
Chriso stared out the window for a second, thinking hard about the decision he was about to make. "All right, folks,” Chriso called to his men, “we're moving out. Leave several thermal decoys and pack everything else." Eric looked at him with a hopeful expression as Chriso accessed his tablet again. "Attempt to link with any other nearby portals though our rod."
"Link established with three other functioning portals. They range between one hundred meters and five kilometers distant."
"Directions to the closest, patch to the others in the squad." The men all started and looked at Chriso as their computers lit up, now understanding what he'd been working on.
"Information relayed. It should be noted that there will be no portals on the planet surface through which out world travel is possible."
I know that, he thought, as he holstered the tablet and took the lead, but if my objective is on the planet surface, this might be the only chance to investigate. Besides, we're in a box, and that box is floating in space. Our weapons aren't as friendly to moliplas as the T'Chillen and their energy guns.
The directions were precise and direct. Chriso guessed that the computer merged the information from the rod along with its own records of these stations to provide a proper map. The rod was both a portal control device and a database interface. He briefly entertained an idea of trying to find a space ship to escape, then remembered the last time he'd looked at a derelict Concordia spaceship. It more closely resembled a huge floating pile of dust motes. Something about the matter they used to make ships just disintegrated as time passed. The stations were somehow protected from the tests of time. The allure he felt for the contents of the da Vinci file kept him focused. The end of a lifetime quest could be at hand.