by J. S. Morin
“Please! Please! Don’t,” Brewster pleaded, cupping both hands over his genitals.
Esper rolled her eyes. “I really don’t relish the idea of discussing your personal grooming area with the universe today. I’m not here to kill you, to take everything you own, or to commandeer your ship. I want the Tal Geru, one hundred fifty thousand terras in hardcoin, and a little bit less arguing. Got it?”
“Not terrible,” Mort observed, stroking the stubble of a beard that never seemed to either shave clean or grow any longer. “Would’ve hurt him at least a little to prod him along.”
However, even without the physical harm Mort advised, Brewster was quick to retrieve both items Esper wanted. She popped the case and admired the crystalline beauty of the Tal Geru. Brewster opened another and displayed row upon row of tightly packed hardcoin currency, good at any planet in ARGO space and most of the ones nearby.
“Thanks,” Esper said with a smile. “Now let’s fuzzle up this ship of yours a little, so you don’t go anywhere before the ENV Nottingham shows up to collect you.”
“But… we had a deal!” Brewster protested.
“No,” Esper observed. “We had an ultimatum. Now, show me where your life support is, and I’ll see about leaving it intact while I magic the rest to gibbering idiocy.”
# # #
Carl watched through the common room door to the cargo bay. The klaxon’s repeated honking was loud enough that the air had to be breathable by now. But if it were done re-pressurizing, the klaxon and the strobe would have ended.
Roddy jostled him from behind.
“Hey, watch it,” Carl warned.
“Quit hogging the window,” Roddy shot back.
“My ship; my window,” Carl retorted.
Amy dragged Carl from in front of the door. “Play nice, boys.”
“Ooh, foreplay,” Roddy sing-songed. “I never get tired of watching you humans rile each other up before a little sport.”
Amy flushed, and Carl put an arm around her before she slunk away. “Hey, I don’t need any pre-riling. I come riled, right out of the gate.”
The klaxon stopped, and someone grabbed the door in the mad rush to get down to the cargo bay. The whole crew was there, with only Rai Kub hanging back, probably out of concern that he might flatten them all if he won the race.
“Did you get it?” Carl shouted to Esper as she set down a pair of cases.
“She’s got something,” Yomin added.
“Two somethings, if you want to get technical,” Archie chimed in.
“Can we let her catch her breath?” Shoni asked.
“She’s got Mort’s widget. She’s been breathing this whole time,” Roddy replied, dodging around the pack as they reached the bottom of the stairs and dropping to all fours to get there first.
The laaku mechanic grabbed the case on the right, but Esper scooped it from his hands. “Wrong one.”
Without pause, Roddy took the case on the left and set it down. Popping the catch, he lifted the lid and started giggling. “Real terras! We can eat food on a planet with a nutrient mixer! Hell, we can install a nutrient mixer.”
“I still refuse to have that shit on my ship,” Carl snapped. But the laaku’s joke could sour his mood. It was more money in hardcoin than they’d seen since he couldn’t remember when.
Nine ways that was only sixteen large apiece, plus some loose change. But it was money they could spend and maybe even sock a little away for a solar flare.
Carl paused as fifty-terra coins waterfalled through his fingers.
Had he just mentally decided to save money as a contingency fund? In the history of the Mobius, there had never been a contingency fund, just money that hadn’t had a chance to be spent yet. Terras fled the Mobius like air from a breached hull.
“Excuse me,” Rai Kub’s melodic bass carried through the scrum for hardcoin. “We have a matter to attend to.” He pointed to the airlock.
With the smuggler’s ship disabled, the Mobius had been able to safely dock. That meant it was time for a parting of ways.
Carl sauntered to the airlock door and put a finger to his lips, silencing the crew. The rest of them gathered close enough to hear Carter from inside.
“Hey, Carter. We just undid your job.”
“Screw you, Ramsey,” Carter replied. “You’ve got no idea who you’re messing with. When that gift-shop reject doesn’t show up at its destination, there’s gonna be a fuckstorm of trouble.”
“A whole storm of ‘em?” Carl asked flippantly. “Who needs an umbrella on fuckstorm day? But seriously, you wanna tell us who signed you up for this job? You are a middleman, after all. Cutting us in on that action might be enough to bargain for a ride up front with us.”
“You’ve got a horse’s ass down your throat because everything you puke out is bullshit.”
Carl tapped a finger to his lips as he thought that one through. There seemed to be a farm animal error somewhere in the middle of that insult, but this wasn’t the time for distractions.
“Well, we’ve got what we came for anyway. Earth Interstellar can sift through the rest of your computer core. For you, it’s the airlock. Can’t say it’s been fun.”
Fists pounded on the inside of the airlock. “Wait! Ramsey, don’t you dare! Ramseeeeeeeeeeey…”
The crew laughed as Carl cycled the airlock and flushed the annoying broker across to the Harpoon Gale.
Esper harrumphed. “Those two deserve one another.”
Without having met Jonie Brewcakes, Carl couldn’t be sure of that.
# # #
Beer flowed, and popcorn popped. The crew gathered in the common room to celebrate a job well done. They watched My Week on Mars on the holo-projector and played cards. They congratulated one another on a job having gone right for once.
Amy was the last to arrive because she still had work to do. The Mobius wasn’t in a rush, but they had a destination: Agos VI. Recovering the Tal Geru wasn’t the end of their journey. If they were going to snip the split ends off this job, that relic needed to get home in one piece. Passing it off to the ENV Nottingham along with the smugglers and Carter’s computer core would end up with the relic tagged as evidence, maybe never to return.
With the Mobius on course and there being no need to leave the 7.5 AU depth that Jonus Brewster had drawn them to, Amy’s work as pilot was done. She locked in the autopilot and slumped back.
Just one final task. Keying the text comm, she fired off a message to the ENV Nottingham.
Nottingham, please be advised. Howie Carter and Jonus Brewster are the only life forms aboard the derelict Harpoon Gale. Computer core with all relevant evidence is decrypted and floating approx. 2km off the port side of the vessel. Exact coordinates to follow.
Amy punched in the location of the Harpoon Gale and sent the comm.
She felt drained. The mission hadn’t been like a naval sortie or any of Carl’s previous “jobs.” This was good, honest vigilante work. All those exceptional skills spread among the crew had been put to honorable, if not legal, use. No one had gotten killed. Two criminals who weren’t members of the crew were about to get arrested. Plus, they’d made a tidy profit.
The pilot of the Mobius rose from her seat and headed for the party to fill back up. There was nothing quite like a couple beers and some nacho-flavored popcorn to fortify the constitution.
Roddy pressed a beer into Amy’s hand the second she entered the common room. She popped the top absently and crinkled her nose at the first sip. Earth’s Preferred always had that effect on her; it went away by the end of the first can, but those first few mouthfuls were brutal.
“Hey, babe,” Carl greeted her as he swept over, picking Amy up and swinging her a full spin around him while he kissed her.
Gasping for breath at the end, Amy grinned at her boyfriend. “We’ve gotta have successful missions more often.”
Carl grinned right back. “I’ve been telling these loafers for years, but they never listen.”
An empty beer can clanged off Carl’s head, followed by simian commentary. “Care to dig into why our jobs go into meltdown, Peachfuzz? My bet for the leading cause of disasters is a certain know-it-all ex-pilot who thinks he can out-clever the laws of probability.”
“Hey,” Amy cautioned. “No time to be bringing math into this. Speaking of math… where’s our retired math teacher?”
Roddy scratched at his scalp. “Huh. Woulda sworn she was here a minute ago. The little human’s room, maybe? She’s a lightweight; beers go right through or come back up.”
“She was asking whether Daisy and Chet were going to couple up just a minute ago,” Yomin commented, glancing away from her cards at the kitchen poker game. The techster looked relaxed, and without her datalens on, a lot more human.
“I thought she got up for a snack,” Shoni reported from the couch.
Archie laid down his cards. “Miss Richelieu retired to her quarters eleven minutes ago.”
“She say why?” Amy asked. Esper was the only relatable one on the ship that she wasn’t already sleeping with. It wasn’t like she needed a girl-to-girl talk right at the moment, but Amy enjoyed Esper’s company.
Rai Kub cleared his throat. “I believe she may have been in a contemplative mood ill-suited to the noise and merriment out here.”
Carl’s brow wrinkled. “Weird.”
Amy didn’t think it particularly weird. Esper was a wizard, and wizards just had different things going on in their heads than everyone else.
# # #
Whether it was artwork or artifice, Esper couldn’t contain her fascination with the Tal Geru. The little holovids on the omni and the accompanying descriptions didn’t give the little miracle the credit it deserved.
Carved from white quartz, the Tal Geru was the size of a bowling ball but much lighter. In fact, it was so unnaturally light in Esper’s cupped hands that she wondered whether it would even fall if she were to let go of it.
But Esper didn’t want to let go.
There was a warmth to the vish kinah relic that was more than temperature. Esper wanted to shrink herself down until she could climb the tiny steps, slip through the pinhole door, and curl up inside forever. It warmed the soul itself.
“Miserable little brick,” Mort griped from the foot of the bed, scowling down as Esper admired the relic. “Primitive workmanship, that’s what it is. Some otter, thousands of years ago, must have whittled it with his teeth.”
Esper didn’t look up. “The vish kinah are otters as much as we’re apes. Whoever made this had his hands guided by God’s design.”
Mort leaned close and squinted as if he had physical eyes. “God needs some lessons in architecture, then. This spud is a muddle of styles.”
Turning the relic in her hands, Esper could see Mort’s point but did not share his conclusions. “You can see elements of Mayan and Greek styles. But, if anything, that just highlights its magnificence. This craftsman heard the same cosmic voice as the ancient civil engineers of Earth. Doesn’t that just send a shiver down your spine?”
“No,” Mort observed. “But as you’re so keen to point out, I don’t have a body. So, at the moment, I’m suffering an acute spinal deficiency. If only there were some cure for that…”
“Mort, this is no time for your sarcasm,” Esper scolded. “This is one of the galaxy’s true spiritual wonders.”
“That’s what wizards call something when they forget how it works,” Mort grumbled. “Fella forgets the keys to his horseless carriage… Presto! Instant modern art. Rescue a heretic and squirrel him away without food or water for a few days? Incinerate him and let the dust blow in the desert wind. Bam! Instant miracle. These otter-evolved mountain goats probably don’t even know what this Tal Geru of theirs does. Way you’re fixated on it, my guess is that it’s an early precursor to the holovid.”
“Are you quite done?”
Mort shrugged.
Esper set the Tal Geru back in its case with the reluctance of a mother sending her firstborn off to college. “This miniature crystalline temple is filled with the light of God’s love. You can’t even imagine the inner peace just holding it brings.”
“I could if you just let me—”
“No!” Esper snapped. She cringed, hoping no one heard her over the din in the common room. Lowering her voice, she continued. “No, you’re not getting control. And as soon as I figure out how, I’m putting an end to these little field trips of yours. You’re not a figment of my imagination, but you are a resident. You’re there for a reason.”
“You keep me a prisoner,” Mort said with a shrug. “I’d stay out all the time if it wasn’t so much work. Nothing for me in there but an angry mob wishing I had a real head to chop off.”
“And your grandfather,” Esper pointed out. “If you need a respite from reconciling with your murder victims, spend some time with him.”
“Nebuchadnezzar and I don’t see eye-to-eye on the subject of Grandma.”
A slimy sensation crawled over Esper’s brain at the thought of what went on while she wasn’t supervising. “Well, just leave him be then.”
Mort snorted. “I would, but he keeps trying to convince me to recreate Nancy there.”
“Please don’t,” Esper said quickly. She cleared her throat. “Um, maybe you can make amends with one of your lady victims?”
Mort shot Esper a warning scowl, then vanished.
She let out a sigh of relief. One more item in her arsenal to use against the ornery dead wizard.
# # #
The priest Pavel bowed at the waist and cupped his hands to receive the Tal Geru. Despite Esper’s objections, Carl was the one to hand over the priceless artifact.
As the otter took custody of the relic, Carl shot the former priestess a smug grin. It was as if she’d expected him to drop it or to demand a reward before relinquishing it.
The gathered priests and local dignitaries chittered, puffing their cheeks rapidly in the otter equivalent of applause. Carl raised a hand in the gesture of acknowledgment used by guys in parades who didn’t quite know how else to respond to a crowd continuing to focus attention on them.
“We cannot begin to thank you,” Pavel said reverently. “Despite our faith that the Tal Geru would be returned, we could not have hoped that it would be so soon and without the suffering that many had predicted. The souls of Agos will rest easy once more.”
Carl opened his mouth, but before he could get a word out, Esper launched into a reply.
“We are honored to restore the Tal Geru to its rightful place in the Temple of the Half-Year Sun,” the former priestess said, sounding more like a current priestess than usual. “Even in my brief time as caretaker of the Tal Geru, I was filled with reverence for it.”
Carl scowled. If this were a normal mission, this would be the point where they realized that Esper was being controlled or possessed by the relic. There would be a fight or maybe a betrayal once they were in the deep end of the astral. It would take everyone to restrain her, then they’d have to launch some long, expensive, dangerous expedition to free her from the relic’s influence, which in the end would end up resulting in a net loss on the job.
Carl really hoped he was wrong. Times like this were why he didn’t mind being wrong so often. It meant that his instincts for how badly a job was likely to botch didn’t play out the way he feared.
“You are all welcome guests of the Temple of the Half-Year Sun and of the vish kinah people,” Pavel announced to more chittering.
The crew shuffled self-consciously behind Carl. The presence of so many of the pint-sized otters was beginning to make Carl a little uneasy as well. So, he concocted a Carl Who Gets Honored by Religious Xenos All the Time.
Carl stepped forward and offered Pavel his hand. The priest passed the Tal Geru over to one of his attendants and shook it. More chittering ensued.
There was a humble feast—heavy on the seafood—to follow, cooked by the priests. Pavel and his brethren made speech
es and offered toasts. A few planetary occupation officials attended as well, and the tesuds seemed both remarkably versed in vish kinah traditions and totally nonplussed by dining with outlaws.
Something had to go wrong, but it never did. Oh, there was the minor matter of the poverty-stricken clergy not offering a wet terra for bringing back the Tal Geru, but Carl and his people had gotten their money. He’d gone in expecting to get paid in blessings and little trinkets and left without even the trinkets.
Still, it wasn’t a bad evening. As the crew filtered out of the party and back to the ship in ones and twos, Carl found himself alone in the freezing cold with Amy, en route to the tram station.
“You’re taking this better than I imagined,” she said, the words coming out with puffs of steam. “The not getting paid, that is.”
“Priests,” Carl said with a shrug. “What can you do? They’re hard-wired to thinking that doing the right thing is its own reward. Besides, those priests can cook a mean salmon. The crab cakes were the best I’ve had outside of Earth.”
Amy chuckled. “Well, I steered clear of the crab, but the salmon was perfect. You should have tried the kelp.”
“I barely like terrestrial veggies,” Carl replied.
Amy grabbed Carl and turned him. “I’m just so proud of you.”
Her eyes glistened in the moonlight. If it weren’t twenty degrees below freezing, he’d have kissed her right then and there. As Amy’s lips parted, Carl realized she wasn’t thinking things through.
Carl leaned away. “We’ll freeze together. Romantic but painful.”
Amy ran the tip of her tongue along her upper lip. “There was this arctic lip gloss at the gift shop. Anti-chapping, plus a few other benefits.”
Before Carl could react, she pounced. Amy took his collar in both hands and pulled him to her. In the biting cold, a point of warmth entered Carl’s mouth. He let out a grunt, and she moaned in response.
Reaching around her, Carl lifted Amy, still locked together mid-kiss, and toted her for the tram station. He would pay for it later, but a little delayed backache was a small price for getting them somewhere warm.
The sooner Carl got Amy back to their bunk, the less chance of him waking up and finding out this mission had all been a dream.