by T. R. Harris
Adam Cain frowned at the outspoken alien, not knowing if he was serious or not. After all, for an alien to say anything about the smell of a Human, well, that had to be a joke, right? Yet the more he studied the smooth pink face of the mod dealer he saw nothing but a smug, almost sadistic expression staring back at him.
Adam held his tongue, knowing his reaction would have been completely different if he wasn’t in such desperate need of the modules. But with another twelve-thousand light-years still left on his journey, it was either put up with the snarky remarks from this creature or start looking for an apartment somewhere on this rodent-infested hellhole of a planet.
Unfortunately for Adam, the rodents ran the show on Vicor, including the vital supply of gravity-drive power-modules he needed. And what made the situation even more annoying was that the Vicoreans were quite aware of their unique position in the universe—as the first civilized way-station in over a hundred thousand light-years for traffic coming to the Large Magellanic Cloud from the Milky Way. As a result, any intrepid travelers risking the incredibly long journey to Vicor would have their ships literally running on fumes when they arrived.
So the insulting rat-bastard on the other side of the counter knew he had a license to spout off. Yet even as frustrating as it was to tolerate this obnoxious alien with an attitude, Adam Cain was more concerned about the coming sticker shock. That’s when things could get really dicey.
“So do you have the units I need or don’t you? If not, then I don’t want to waste anymore of your time or mine. I understand there are six other mod dealers on this street alone. I’m sure one of them will have what I need.”
“For such a tiny beast, you are overly arrogant,” the native said. “I have had much contact with creatures from the Silean Galaxy, but I do not recall ever seeing your kind come through here before. What do you call your species?”
“Is that really important? What I need to know is whether or not we’re going to do business, rather than get bogged down with a lot of useless trivia, like where I went to high school or what’s my favorite color.”
As usual, Adam comment was lost in translation, yet fortunately the alien let it pass. His pink eyes now bore into Adam. “Yes, I stock modules that meet your specifications, yet they are hybrids, not standard. There will be a surcharge, which I am sure you were expecting.”
“How much, including installation?”
The smugness now returned to the Vicorean’s face. “Well, foreigner, that is a relative question, is it not? Since it is obvious you are not from around here, the cost will depend on what you have in exchange for the mods. And let it be known, your colorful plastic chips mean nothing to us here. I will need something of real value before we can conclude our business.”
“So what’s valuable to you?”
The native looked down at the holster Adam wore around his waist and the MK-17 bolt-launcher it held. “We are always interested in the weaponry from the S.G. We have energy weapons of our own, yet your models and technology advance much faster than ours.”
“Sorry, I don’t have any to spare. I’m just a one-man—one-person—ship, so I don’t carry a lot of extra weapons onboard.”
“That is disappointing.”
“What else? Precious metals, gold for instance? I have plenty of that.”
“I would prefer technology, but if all you have is metal, then I might consider a trade.”
“How much…for how many?”
Nurick reached under the counter and pulled out a cube of dull metal about two inches square, placing it in front of Adam. “This is called a locbar, and it represents a standard currency unit of one hundred nilabars. An amount of pure gold equivalent to six of these will purchase one hybrid module with install, so depending on the purity of your metal you will need at least six locbars for each module requested. How many mods do you need?”
Adam lifted the cube. He had no idea what the price of gold was on Earth at the time, so all he could gauge the value by was how much he’d have left after the trade. He knew that the specific gravity of planets differed, sometimes in miniscule amounts, yet on others by tens of percentage points. He took out a datapad and made a few quick calculations. According to the references, a cubic inch of gold on Earth would weigh seven-tenths of a pound. So a cube twice as big would have six times the volume, or a little over four Earth-pounds of gold per module. He carried seven hundred pounds of gold onboard the Pegasus, so for the sixteen modules he needed it would cost slightly over sixty-four pounds of gold.
The offer seemed reasonable on the surface, but a few more calculations showed he’d only have enough gold for eleven such resupplies, and not counting other barter transactions he’d have to conduct while on mission. Unfortunately, he had no idea how long he’d in the Cloud or if there would be a possibility of replenishing his supply of the precious metal while here. And then there was the incredibly long return trip to the Milky Way to consider.
“I need sixteen modules.”
Adam saw Nurick’s rodent-like head shudder slightly. “Sixteen! Why so many?” And then the Vicorean’s eyes narrowed. “Ah…you are the one, the one with the odd spaceship now in port. You will notice that news travels fast on Vicor. I did not believe it at first—eight focusing ring terminals on one small ship. And yet the need for sixteen mods now confirms the rumors, as it is a multiple of eight. How is it that you can have that many rings operating at once without overlapping oscillation? That would be impossible.”
“You’re right…it is impossible. I just wish someone had told me that before I made the trip out here from the Milky Way—I mean the Silean Galaxy. It’s obvious now that I’m not really standing here in your store.”
The sour look returned to Nurick’s face. “You have much to learn of manners, foreigner. Yet even with that, I do have access to that many modules; however for your attitude, I will add an annoyance fee to bring the total for all the units to one hundred five locbars.”
“I’ll give you half that,” Adam said. This was bartering after all, and one never took the first offer.
“Did you not hear me correctly? I stated the price; it is reasonable, considering the uniqueness of your modules.”
Adam nodded, not knowing what message the gesture would convey on Vicor. “I understand that you’ve quoted me a price based on a barter transaction, yet because of your attitude towards me, I feel that price to be arbitrary and inflated. However, since I have nothing to base that on, I think it best if I compare prices along the street before agreeing to your terms, especially for such a large order.” Adam grinned at the alien. “But I will be fair. I will state your price and who’s offering it. I’m sure your competitors will agree that it’s a fair price and allow you to make the transaction. It should only take an hour to check with the other dealers.” He turned to go.
“Hold one!” the dealer called out before Adam could reach the exit. “Others along the strip are not as honest or as knowledgeable as I. You have specific energy requirements, and if I were purchasing such units, I would seek out the most-experienced energy dealer to fill my order.”
Adam turned back to the alien. “Are you saying your competitors are not as knowledgeable—or as honest? How do I know that to be true? I know nothing of your experience or that of the others. All I have is your word. I’m sure when I ask your associates about their experience—as compared to yours—I may receive a different opinion.”
There was an awkward moment of silence as the native struggled with his next move. It was obvious he’s been caught off guard by Adam’s negotiating skills.
“The others will lie.”
“And you won’t?”
More silence.
“Unfortunately, foreigner, your counteroffer is much too low. Yet for such a bulk order I will accept ninety locbars as a minimum.”
“Sixty.”
“Eighty…and that is the best I can do.”
“Then I will return after I do my research—or I may not.�
�
“Wait, what would it take for us to consummate this transaction at this time? It would be better for me to take a marginal offer now rather than risk you being deceived by one of my associates.”
“I will go as high as sixty-four locbars, that’s four each.”
There was an anguished look on the face of the hapless creature. “At that I will barely make enough to cover the cost of business during the time we have spoken. However, if you will return for more modules, then I could consider this an investment in future transactions.”
Adam grinned again. “Of course, my friend, you will become my exclusive power-mod dealer, and I will even recommend you to others.”
The lie seemed to placate the alien, even though Adam could tell Nurick didn’t believe a word of it. “Then can we consider our business settled? With payment, I can have the modules delivered and installed tomorrow. It is too late in the day for me to make arrangements for a tech crew. And one further item,” the alien said. “I request that you do not mention the price to anyone else. I have a reputation to maintain on my homeworld.”
“Consider it done—agreed upon.” Adam grinned again, being sure to keep his teeth from being fully exposed as he did so. “And now, where I come from we have a tradition of grasping hands upon the conclusion of a successful negotiation.” He reached out his right hand.
The long-snouted alien attempted a sour smile of his own as he reached out his hand to meet Adam’s. “You are indeed a rogue, foreigner, and with your bad attitude you may find trouble on Vicor—”
Adam grasped the thin hand of the alien…and began to squeeze.
Shock and anguish suddenly filled Nurick’s panicked eyes. His mouth fell open as he took his other hand and tried desperately to pry the other from Adam’s vice-like grip. “You are crushing my hand!” he cried out. “Any longer and my bones will break.”
And that’s when Adam pulled the alien in closer, until their faces were only inches apart. “You say I may find trouble here, friend? That I very much doubt. And now a word of advice: Prior to insulting a creature you’ve never seen before, it might be wise to find out what you’re up against before you start running off at the mouth.”
The alien was still attempting to pull away, but Adam held him firm. “I do not recognize the phrase running off at the mouth, yet I do accept your overall premise. If I have offended you, then I apologize.”
Adam released the alien. “Now that’s better. See, we can all get along if we just treat each other with respect. Oh, and one more thing: If you betray me, I will find you…and I’ll do the same to your neck as I just did to your hand. Do you understand that?”
Nurick fell against the back counter, rubbing his injured hand. “Yes, I understand. I am simply a channeler of merchandise. I do not wish to engage in a contest of strength with you—no matter how small and unassuming you may appear.”
Adam turned for the door. “Good. And by the way, I’ll have the gold at my ship and you’ll get payment there when the job is complete. So get the modules installed as soon as possible, if you want to get paid quicker. I have no desire to stay on your beautiful, friendly planet any longer than I have to.”
And then just before disappearing through the doorway, he turned back to the distraught Vicorean. “And since you asked earlier, I’m a Human, and if there’s one thing you on this side of the Gulf need to learn, it’s that you don’t mess Humans—not if you want to live beyond the encounter.”
133
For creatures with gravity-drive starships—along with the means to manufacture power-modules for said vessels—Adam was surprised to find that the Vicoreans still used internal combustion engines for their surface transports. Now, as he slipped into the rear passenger seat of a local cab, he managed to take in a deep breath of the familiar-smelling hydrocarbon-filled air, while allowing distant memories to flood his consciousness.
Except for a few brief days over a year ago, Adam Cain hadn’t spent any serious time on his home planet in over five years, and even by then, electric vehicles of Juirean and Formilian design had already replaced traditional cars and trucks years before. He knew it was wrong of him, but the smells and sounds of a good ol’ fashion gasoline engine made him nostalgic for a simpler time—a time before his fateful abduction by the Klin, and before he knew anything of alien empires, galactic politics and four-thousand-year-old grudges. These unlikely events would go on to shape his destiny over the past seventeen years.
Damn, has it been that long? Adam thought, as he absently watched the alien city pass by through the window of the transport. His blasé attitude showed just how acclimated he’d become to his new reality, to the point where there was a real-life alien sitting not more than three feet from him—in the driver’s seat of the car—and he didn’t even care. The Vicorean was just another living creature, just like any cabbie back on Earth, to be used and then dismissed without a second thought.
And even the energy merchant—they call themselves channelers here—should have evoked some kind of reaction from him. After all, Nurick Nur was a six-foot-tall talking rat! Shouldn’t that have seemed odd?
Adam smiled, while thinking back many years ago to the first two aliens he’d met in this strange universe, the cargo-haulers Kaylor and Jym. He could vividly recall Jym’s emphatic statement—suspect at the time—that it was Adam who was the alien in their universe, and not the other way around. For years now, Adam had known what Jym meant; that with so many different species inhabiting the universe none were truly alien—just different.
And that’s how Adam considered the natives of Vicor; just another species, on another planet, in another galaxy, far, far away. And although he was only just now touching the fringes of the Milky Way’s small sister galaxy, he was hoping his time here would be brief.
His arch-enemy Nigel McCarthy had fled to the Cloud seeking safety and a new start for his criminal ambitions. Yet even though Adam believed his mission against McCarthy was just and necessary, he still couldn’t hide from the fact that he was growing tired of all the aliens he encountered along the way. They always seemed to put him in such a nasty mood.
The ride back to the spaceport took less than fifteen minutes, short enough that Adam didn’t have time to let his melancholy linger. Instead, all he could do was shake his head at what he saw as the cab passed through the gate and wound its way through the maze of parked spaceships towards the Pegasus.
There was a small crowd of Vicoreans surrounding his ship; someone had even brought a ladder and the butt-end of one of the rat-like creatures was sticking out of the Number Six focusing ring portal. The alien in the portal stuck his head out. “You are right, they are for focusing rings,” he called down to the others at the base of the ladder.
“Get the hell off my ship!” Adam yelled as he ran up to the Pegasus.
The natives didn’t react to his demand; rather they regarded him with curiosity. “Do you engage all rings simultaneously or are some used as backup or for special maneuvering?” the Vicorean in the portal asked, completely ignoring Adam’s protest.
Adam climbed a couple of the rungs of the ladder and grabbed the Vicorean by his long tail. He pulled, and in the light gravity of Vicor, Adam’s overwhelming strength sent the native flying out the portal and through the air, a high-pitched squeal escaping from his lungs as he flew. He hit the ground hard about ten feet way. His friends ran to help him to his feet.
“That was rude and uncalled for!” the rat said. Except for a fair amount of red dirt now on his light blue tunic, he didn’t seem to be injured.
“What was rude and uncalled for was for you to be crawling all over my ship. This is private property.”
The native and his friends were furious. “We were just curious; you could have injured me seriously.”
“You climb on my ship again and I’ll see to it that your injuries are permanent. And that goes for the rest of you. Leave my ship alone.”
“The rings probably do not even work
well,” said one of the disgruntled Vicoreans as they began to wonder away.
“How could they?” another one asked. “It is impossible to have eight rings working in unison.”
With anger in his eyes, Adam watched until the last native was a full fifty feet way before he activated the door lock mechanism and let himself into the Pegasus.
“Bastards!” he growled to the room. “I knew I should have left the security on.” After seven long months alone in space, Adam Cain was now in the nasty habit of talking to himself—at least a lot more than normal. He would catch himself doing it at times and feel embarrassed, but only after an hour or so of silence-killing conversation. But right now he didn’t care. He had to vent, and he had to do it before he lost his temper and did something everyone—including himself— would regret….
134
The next morning Adam received a link from Nurick giving him the estimated time for delivery of his energy mods; the install would take place later in the afternoon once the tech crew became available.
With four hours to kill, he went back into town to pick up some much needed supplies. Before leaving the Pegasus, he slipped several gold ingots into the pockets of his jeans, anticipating that another round of barter negotiations was in store. At some point, he knew he’d have to convert a fair amount of his gold into the standard currency for the galaxy. It would make future transactions that much simpler.
He was also still upset about the aliens crawling all over his ship, so this time when he left the Pegasus, he activated the external security measures he’d created. It wasn’t much, but any alien attempting to climb on his ship again would be in for a shock.
Two hours later, and with only a small box of food processor ingredients in his possession, he returned to the spaceport. The negotiations in town hadn’t gone as planned—the Vicoreans were pretty dim-witted in Adam opinion. He’d have to make do with what he had, and as soon as the mods were installed, he’d be on his way once again and glad to leave this backwards planet behind forever.