Analog SFF, January-February 2009

by Dell Magazine Authors

  They came up slowly, revealing an empty room.

  The container, with the fidelia inside, was gone.

  He nodded. Then blinked at an unaccustomed moistness in his eyes.

  "Ship,” he said. “How long has the fidelia been gone?"

  "Two hours,” the ship said.

  "What about the Fleet surrounding us?"

  "It was here for thirty minutes."

  "Why didn't you wake me?"

  "You left no such instructions,” the ship said.

  He opened his mouth to argue, then paused. While it was true he had left no instructions to wake him during that nap, it wasn't true that the ship had no instructions about waking him.

  It was supposed to wake him whenever a ship was in the vicinity, or if someone or something was trying to communicate with him.

  The ship certainly should have awakened him if someone tried to board.

  "Can you show me what the intruders did after they entered?” he asked.

  "Certainly.” The ship displayed the same image that it had when it had awakened him—all of the ships surrounding the Nebel. Then it showed him the face of the woman. He suspected, if he hadn't waved it off, he would have watched her reappear in his chair as well.

  They tampered with his systems. Now he had to figure out whether they had tampered before or after they boarded.

  "May I see what happened after they left?” he asked.

  "They have not left,” the ship said.

  His stomach clenched. All of the messages suggested that they had left. Everything they had done suggested they were long gone.

  He walked to the nearest porthole and looked out. He saw no ship. He went to the next porthole. No ship.

  They had tampered with his systems. His ship still believed it was surrounded.

  He needed to get around whatever blocks they had put into his shipboard computer. He tried a different question, one the Black Fleet probably wouldn't think of.

  "Is there some kind of trail that suggests that ships have left the vicinity?"

  "Yes,” the ship said. “More than a dozen ships have departed this area in the last twenty-four Earth hours."

  A dozen ships, like the ones on the screen.

  "When did they leave?” he asked.

  "I cannot tell from the trails, but they should thin within twelve hours. They have not."

  "Can we follow them?"

  "You have programmed in a rendezvous point and time. If you wish to make the scheduled point and time, then we cannot follow."

  He didn't want to see Athenia. “Even if the ships are close?"

  "They are not close. I can track the trails past this solar system. To chase them would mean you would miss any possibility of the rendezvous."

  "Can we find them if we follow?” Yu wasn't sure what he would do if he caught up, but he was contemplating an attempt.

  "I do not know."

  "Did the ships leave at the same time?"

  "Judging by the trails, they did."

  "And head in the same direction?"

  "Yes,” the ship said.

  "Can you make a map of these trails for me and plot a possible trajectory based on their directions?"

  "Yes."

  "Save that for me,” he said. “I might need it."

  He looked at the maps themselves, then at the images of the ships. If the images were accurate, he would have had no chance of going up against them even if he had weapons. Every one of those ships could destroy his.

  They got the better of him and he knew it.

  So he headed to the rendezvous point. Athenia was the only chance he had. Her employees were scattered all over the known universe. She might be able to get someone to chase those ships and capture them before the bloom on the flowering fidelia died.

  * * * *

  "They offered me the flower at twenty times the price of my payments to you.” Athenia stood in front of wall with clear panels showing the blackness of space. She was a large woman with flowing silver hair. She wore a matching silver gown and silver rings on every finger. Silver dots outlined her eyes, accenting her dark skin.

  Yu felt lost. He stood on a platform seven steps down from her. He could just barely see his own reflection in the clear panels. His eyes seemed larger than usual, his lips caught in a grimace. An illusion of the light made his curly black hair seemed streaked with gray. He looked older than he had just a few hours before.

  Maybe he was older. Decades older.

  He had lost the fidelia, and he knew it. The leader of the Black Fleet had tapped into his equipment and opened the ship's locks from the inside. Only one person had come on board, imprisoning him in his room, reprogramming the ship's computer, and taking the fidelia.

  "Did you take the offer?” he asked Athenia.

  "The idiots didn't know the flower could die if mishandled. They had no idea that there is a time limit on the bloom. They want payment up front, and they're too far from here to meet within the seven-day window.” Athenia stopped pacing, her skirts swirling around her. “So, no, I didn't pay them. And I'm not going to pay you."

  He had known that was coming. “I'm sorry. I had no idea they were monitoring my transmissions. It seems that they knew what I was searching for."

  "They knew what I was searching for,” Athenia said. “The moment you contacted me, they were alerted. They had plenty of time to plan their little heist."

  "I can go after them. I can find them—"

  "And we still miss the window,” Athenia said.

  Yu's palms were sweating. He resisted the urge to wipe them on his pants. “There may be more flowering fidelias in that swamp. If I found one, I can find others."

  She crossed her arms and looked down at him. “You forget our agreement. You had one fidelia. You lost it. You will not work for me again. Nor will you work for any friend or acquaintance of mine. I've already sent word through the various networks that you are inept. You should have planned for something like this."

  You should have warned me that the Black Fleet knew you were after the fidelia, he thought, but didn't say. Instead, he said, “I'm trying to make this right."

  "No, you're not. Had you done that, we wouldn't be in this situation. Now I'm out three years and more money than I care to think about."

  "You haven't paid me any fees,” he said.

  "For which I am grateful. But you will repay your expenses."

  He felt cold. He couldn't afford that. “Our agreement stipulates that I get to keep those expenses."

  "Provided you made a valid search for the fidelia. I have no evidence of such a search."

  "I found a flowering fidelia,” he said. “I notified you of that."

  "I have no proof that such notification is accurate. For all I know, you were trying to justify those inflated bills you sent me every quarter."

  "I didn't inflate the bills,” he said. “And I didn't lie about the fidelia. I have holoimages of the plant. I can prove to you that I had it."

  "But can you prove to me that you didn't already sell it to someone else? Maybe that's how the Black Fleet got it. They paid you double what I offered and are now offering it back to me at a much higher price."

  A flush rose in his face. “I'm not that kind of man."

  "No,” she said. “You don't call yourself a thief. You call yourself a Recovery Man. You don't steal. You recover."

  That flush was so deep he felt like he was burning up from the inside out. “That's right. I recover things. I'm a professional. All of my interactions are professional. I trained with botanists so I wouldn't hurt the fidelia when I recovered it. That's the sign of a professional. Another sign of a professional is that I make agreements and I keep to them. I work for other people, not for myself. I do not steal. I trust that the people I work for truly need personal items recovered."

  "In other words, you're not the thief,” she said. “I am."

  Yes. That's exactly it. You're the thief. I'm the one who works for you and asks
no questions.

  "No,” he said. “All I'm trying to say is that I work in good faith. I do the very best I can."

  "And thieves don't? It seems to me that the Black Fleet was quite prepared and very professional. They certainly got the better of you."

  And you, he thought. Especially if it was your transmissions they were monitoring.

  "Let me set this right,” he said. “I'll get you a new fidelia and I'll recover the one from the Black Fleet. Think of what you could learn from a flowering fidelia past its bloom and one in the middle of blooming."

  She glared at him. “I needed the blooming fidelia. You could not get that for me, so you're fired. On your way out, you will receive an exact accounting of the amount you owe me. I want the money within six Earth months, or I will add straight financial theft to the bulletin I sent out about you. At that point, I also will press charges through the Earth Alliance. You will be a wanted man."

  The second threat frightened him less than the financial one. He had been a wanted man off and on throughout the Alliance most of his career.

  She must have sensed that her threats didn't impress him. “You will pay me. Or at the end of six months, I will hire Trackers to find you, confiscate everything you own, and turn you in to the Earth Alliance. Is that clear?"

  Yu nodded. It was clear, and it was much more of a threat than she knew. If he cleared out all of his accounts, he would have enough to pay her back, but he would have nothing left. It had taken him a lifetime of work to compile that amount of money. The expenses had been fierce on this case, and he had paid them willingly because he never thought he would have to reimburse her.

  But she had the upper hand. She could do all the things she threatened and more.

  "Surely we can come to some kind of arrangement,” he said, his voice sounding timid even to himself.

  "We already have an arrangement,” she said and left the room.

  * * * *

  Six months was not enough time to make the money that it had taken him a lifetime to earn. He considered with various options: he could find another flowering fidelia and sell it, like the Black Fleet was doing. He could track down the Black Fleet and exact some kind of revenge. Or he could hire himself out for the large jobs he had avoided until this one.

  But it had taken him three years to find the first fidelia, and without Athenia's money, he might not be able to find another.

  He could go after the Fleet. But he was one unarmed ship against at least a dozen. And what could he do when he got there? Call the debt by asking them to return the fidelia? They said he couldn't do that. And besides, by the time he found them, the bloom would probably be gone. He would gain nothing, except maybe the Fleet's enmity.

  And that was if he could find them.

  He settled for the remaining option—hiring himself out for big jobs—only to learn that no one would take him. Athenia had ruined his reputation in all the circles that counted.

  So he did the only thing he could do.

  He went to the Gyonnese.

  Ostensibly, he went to have them repair his ship. He assumed the Black Fleet had done something—tapped in, ruined a section, figured out a weakness he didn't know—and he wanted the Gyonnese to fix it.

  But his actual reason for approaching them was to see what kind of off-the-books work they could muster for him.

  In the past, he had turned down their off-the-books jobs. Those jobs always skirted the edge of Alliance laws in ways that made even a Recovery Man nervous.

  But he couldn't afford to be so picky now.

  * * * *

  Yu understood the Gyonnese as well as a member of one species could understand the members of another. He had lived among them off and on for the past decade, not because he liked them (he really didn't) but because their engineering skills fascinated him.

  It was almost as if they saw the universe differently, as if the way things worked was an additional dimension, one that humans couldn't quite grasp. That was why he bought a ship modified by the Gyonnese, and why he did his best to gain their trust.

  New Gyonne City spread like tendrils across a flat plain. From close orbit, the city's tendrils were impossible to distinguish from the tributaries of the continent's only river.

  New Gyonne City was the Gyonnese's first colony city, founded on a moon not too far from Gyonne itself. Yu preferred the city, mostly because a section had been designed after the Gyonnese joined the Earth Alliance. That section of the city had things that Yu considered necessities—chairs, tables, a variety of human-compatible foods served in actual dishes.

  As he landed, he sent out word that he was available for work. He had never done that before.

  After he had gone through decontamination, customs, and immigration, he emerged into the main section of the port to find a group of Gyonnese officials waiting for him.

  The Gyonnese were slender creatures, as fluid as their city. They weren't much wider than his thigh, with long bodies and even longer heads.

  This group included some of the city's leaders. Most humans wouldn't have recognized them, but Yu had worked hard at distinguishing the Gyonnese's features.

  The Gyonnese had eyes, placed in roughly the same position as human eyes, but whiskers composed the rest of their face. The whiskers were tiny and varied in color and length depending on age and gender. The Gyonnese rubbed their whiskers together to create the sounds that composed their speech. To be understood by most humans, the Gyonnese had to use an amplifier.

  Yu didn't need one to understand them. He also knew that speaking in a normal human tone would hurt their ears (which were hidden somewhere in their midtorso).

  "Hadad Yu.” The Gyonnese closest to him was the one who spoke. The Gyonnese often designated one of their number to communicate with humans.

  Yu nodded toward the speaker in acknowledgement, but spoke to the entire group.

  "You have broadcast that you are available for hire. Is this thing true?” When the Gyonnese spoke, it looked like the flesh beneath their eyes undulated. In reality, it was just their whiskers as they rubbed together.

  This was the moment Yu could back out, and he probably should. To have so many high-ranking Gyonnese waiting for him did not bode well for the job they wanted to hire him for.

  But this might be his only chance at work. And the Gyonnese paid well, even if they often asked for vaguely illegal things.

  "Yes,” Yu whispered. He made sure the sound was so faint that most humans would think he was whispering to himself. “I sent a message that I am available for large jobs."

  "You have angered someone in the Alliance,” said the speaker. The others bobbed—their version of nodding.

  "I have,” Yu whispered. “I had been warned that she was an unreasonable client. I spent three years on her job, but she would not let me finish. Instead, she is spreading lies about me."

  "That you are unreliable,” said the speaker.

  Yu wished he knew their names. When he was speaking to humans, he tried to use names to put them at ease. But the Gyonnese did not use names.

  Instead, they had honorifics, which were based on what stage of life the Gyonnese was in. Some were Elders, others were Apprentices, and there was a whole list of honorifics in between.

  "She has said I am unreliable,” Yu whispered. “But an unreliable man does not work on a job for three years without payment. You know me. I have always worked well for the Gyonnese."

  "That is why we are here. We need to hire you."

  He figured as much. Normally, he would suggest a private place to discuss the work, but the Gyonnese did not meet aliens in private. Carrying on the discussion in the port was the best they would do for him.

  "Tell me the job,” he whispered, “and I will tell you if I can help you."

  "We will pay your debt to this liar,” the speaker said as if Yu hadn't spoken. “And then we will pay five times your normal fee."

  He felt cold. His normal fee for the Gyonnese was always ten
times larger than the fee he charged human clients. This job had to be huge.

  "And,” the speaker said, apparently taking his silence for reluctance, “we will pay your personal expenses in advance. Any change in the cost will work to your advantage. If the expense amount is more, you will submit a final bill. If it is less, you will keep the difference."

  The muscles in Yu's back were so tight that they ached. He had to turn this job down now, before he heard their proposal. Because he knew the Gyonnese. They understood that this job wasn't one he would want to do. They were trying to bribe him.

  And it was working. He would be able to keep his private funds, pay off Athenia, and have money enough to return to the small work that he preferred.

  "What's the job?” Yu was glad he was speaking in whispers. He wasn't sure his voice would be steady enough to ask the question.

  "We need you to recover a Fifth,” the speaker said.

  It took him a moment to understand. They didn't mean a measurement. They meant a type of Gyonnese. The Gyonnese had great trouble having children. Most Gyonnese only had one child, which was called the Original. But at the larval stage, the Original Gyonnese divided into several other matching Gyonnese. Humans couldn't tell the others apart. Biologically, there didn't seem to be a difference. But the Gyonnese could tell. A Second, Third, Fourth, or Fifth was, to the Gyonnese, an inferior creature, subject to greater rules and stricter living conditions than the Originals.

  Yu knew enough about the culture to understand that the Gyonnese who faced him now were all Originals. He was stunned that they had even mentioned the existence of a Fifth to him.

  "I'm sorry,” he whispered—and he truly was. He would have loved the money. “But while I am familiar with your culture and respect it a great deal, I am not sure I could tell a Second from a Fifth."

  He knew better than to say an Original from a Fifth, which was the actual truth.

  The Gyonnese surrounding him raised their whiskers over their eyes. The gesture made a whispery clicking sound, which was their version of laughter.

  "We do not send you after a Gyonnese Fifth,” the speaker said when after the whiskers had returned to their usual position. “We send you after a human Fifth."

  Humans don't have Fifths, he nearly said, and then he realized what the Gyonnese meant.