by Lesa Corryn
“Please Anwell, it’s not like I’m losing customers,” I groaned. I forced my way forward as he gestured me towards his side entrance door. “I locked down everything and put a sign up saying I’ll be back in 15 minutes.”
“You never know,” he said, his dark full lips raised into a smile, “you may get another luxury cruiser.”
“You know that was just a windfall,” I sighed. About a week back, a cruise ship ported in Gersemi. They stripped my store bare and my pocket jingled with credits. But, the euphoria of the event drifted away once the lights fell and the dark realities set in. The ship only stopped at this port because the recent treasons in the Union left the galaxy a dangerous place to travel unguarded. This was merely a refueling stop on a expedited route home for the panicked travelers. I couldn’t hope for another luxury liner to stumble across our port. Only soldiers planeted anymore and their interests were far from souvenirs and trinkets. Business would continue to boom for the outpost, but not for a stall that carried the marvels of our vast galaxy or the treasures of ancient cultures.
“Most of the money has already been spent on food and rent,” I bemoaned, taking a seat upon one of Anwell’s crates as he busied himself with a customer.
Anwell ran a communications hub. He sold individual periodical screens, a popular product since most soldiers weren’t allowed to have any files transmitted to their companion units unless they came directly from the military. He had two vid screens playing the latest news as well as beverages and snacks, at a price of course, for those who wished to hang around and catch up on the galaxy’s goings on. His biggest seller was a message service. He worked as a contractor for Stellar Links Inc., a galaxy spanning empire that sent personal messages from one end of the galaxy to another. A much needed product in a time of war.
I came to Anwell’s stall for his novelty section: a stack of old tomes, ancient books made of paper and flimsy board. They sat collecting dust in the corner of his shop, useless to anyone with access to the Union’s expansive archives. But, I’m non-Union so those weathered old books granted my only knowledge into a world that I so desperately wanted to be a part of.
The Galaxian Union is a confederation of races and planets that spans the Lactea Galaxy. They form the glue that holds our stars together. They monitor trade, govern interplanetary relations, and police the vast space that lies between all the planets that dot our galaxy. When a new race is discovered, they are given the option to join the Union and reap the benefits of their government or live outside their law and have no voice in their Senate. My people didn’t see the potential in such a treatise and so I sat as a foreigner amongst the diverse population of Gersemi.
“The recent boom has brought you nothing?” asked Anwell, his back still turned towards me as he handed out periodicals to a few wearied and bedraggled military officers. “I realize soldiers aren’t your best clientele, but still the pure volume must have affected you.”
“I’m merely a trinket seller. Military personnel don’t need something to weigh their packs down. They want food in their stomachs, drink to redden their cheeks, and company to pass the time.” I glanced down the corridor; the large port gates loomed far into the distance. Above the towering stone wall peeked the fins of docked ships, most of which were simply transports from some behemoth military cruiser surfing along Gersemi’s gravitational pull. “Still perhaps the Alladians will just surrender and the Bendalurians will say it was all just a big misunderstanding,” I said with sarcasm ringing in my voice.
About a month ago, a Union fleet ship discovered that the Alladians, a reptilian race, and the Bendalurians, a feline race that sat amongst the high consul of the Union, had betrayed the government body. Though they worked independently of each other, both sought to secure a then unknown planet, currently dubbed as Ageria. Fortune had it though that a fleet ship crashed onto the planet and unraveled the two races’ misdoings.
“I actually hoped the Bendalurians would have some explanation,” said Anwell. A few soldiers diverted their eyes from the vid screens as their ears caught whispers of the war. “I mean, the Alladians, we all knew would come back and backstab us for the war ten cycles ago. But a high consul race... that just leaves you feeling a bit helpless.”
“Doesn’t bother me, I’m not Union,” I said. With that some of the soldiers sneered and walked away. I simply shrugged as they stormed off. “But, it does bother me as a merchant. Don’t much care who it is or why it’s happening, as long as it eventually finishes up and gets me back on track with my shop.”
“Brig, I can give you a job here,” said Anwell. He turned his eyes to mine. As a Lupain, a descendant race of canines, he was gifted with small, dark, watery eyes that seemed to know your feelings before you could grasp them yourself. “I won’t let you live off the streets. Who knows how long this war will take, especially when it hasn’t even been declared yet. If this is what it looks like now, imagine what it will be when we officially go to war.”
I sighed, turning away from him and his burrowing stare. The Alladians were under control as far as most were concerned. Small battles were being fought along Alladian space, but since their plot was discovered far before they intended, their war appeared more a rebellious act of a spoiled teenager than a full scale assault. But, the true darkness lay in the Bendalurians. A faithful Union race that served as executive members in the Senate. Their motives were still as dark as the reaches of space and until more evidence of their treason was brought forward, the Senate wouldn’t move on declaring war.
“Thanks, but no thanks,” I said, shaking the war from me and directing the conversation back to my original motives, “I can take care of myself. Your book on the other hand is a different matter.” I held the volume before Anwell, the worn leather cover flaking at the corners and a few yellowed pages peaking out at odd angles, torn from the binding.
“Looks much as it did when you took it,” he said, taking the book from me.
“Page 192, Doctrine of Earth Trade Regulations.” Anwell flipped the pages, while his large pointed ears turned to catch the voices of the customers still clamoring before his shopfront. For now they appeared to be riveted to a report on a local Aveslor colony not far from Gersemi. Apparently, the colony’s internal network failed, causing most of the planet’s various civil regulation programs to malfunction. Reactors all across the main city of Orielo suffered a meltdown, killing thousands. The soldiers huddled together, mumbling their theories on the cause of the devastating accident.
“By the stars, Brig, what happened here?” asked Anwell. He drew the book up to his face, sitting it just bellow his wide, bulbous nose. His nostrils twitched, his eyes drawing up, his brow pinching as he struggled with the scent. “Plains deer blood. Oh, Brig, not again.” He flashed his deep dark eyes upon me and a shiver ran along my spine. It’s never been proven, but I follow the suspicion that Lupains have an innate ability for low level telepathy.
“Geoff seems to have gotten careless with his work,” I said, derision piercing my words. “He snapped a plains deer leg off for a customer, sending bits of flesh and blood raining down upon me and unfortunately your book. It’s beyond me why he couldn’t break the joint with one of his knives.” I finished with a dramatic flair of feigned confusion, causing Anwell to sigh, shaking his head and dropping his shoulders.
“You need to get a new stall. That man is a menace and he carries a dark shadow with him,” he said, his words dropping into a whisper.
Geoff specialized in the meats and hides of the native animals. He advertised to all willing to listen that he contracted with legitimate hunters that never strayed further than the ten kilometers Gersemi’s native people granted to the Union. But, drunken lips fear not what they say and I’ve heard rumor at the local taverns that the rash of poaching plaguing the natives’ has been under Geoff’s order.
“I refuse to give in to that man,” I said, waving my hand and brushing away the matter. “Anyways, I’d like to pay for the book
.”
“You refuse to give in, yet it is you paying not him,” he retorted.
“How much?” I said, ignoring his comment.
“No, you will not pay,” he said, thrusting the book back into my hands. “I can’t sell it, even a little blood could be considered a biohazard so it’s not worth it. In the end though, it would have only brought in a few credits. It’s here for amusement not profit. Please just keep it.”
“You don’t want my money,” I said, a bit of bite in my voice, “Just because I’m not as well off as you, doesn’t mean I can’t pay.”
“Brig, you know that’s not what I mean,” said Anwell throwing out his hands, trying to catch me as I stormed out of his stall.
“I will pay you back for this book,” I said, calling to him over my shoulder, “I don’t need your charity.” Anwell shook his head, his piercing eyes still cutting into me from across the crowd. My skin crawled and I turned away just in time to notice an Aveslor standing right in front of me, his beaked mouth gapping. “Can I help you?” I growled.
“No, not at the moment,” he mumbled. He wore a heavy cloak, a hood pulled over his head, hiding his thick crown of feathers. I felt the bite of the sun upon my skin and the man’s bundled appearance sent a shiver of pity through me.
“Well then keep walking,” I snapped, pushing past him. The flock of people swallowed him up and hid him from view as I shuffled back to my stall. I still felt his eyes upon the back of my neck, however, watching me from some distant shadow.
As I reached my store, I saw a guard whispering over Geoff’s shopfront, pretending to buy a geeloo pelt. I slipped in, keeping my distance from Geoff, busying myself with opening up my crates in the far corner.
“It was a success, but the natives’ reported to Captain today,” whispered the outpost guard. I paused with my box, my ears straining to catch his words, but Geoff’s beady brown eyes caught my hesitation. A large, muscular Earther, Geoff thrust the bundled swatch of fur into the guard’s arms, knocking him several steps backwards. Taking the hint in his furrowed brow and rigid lips, the guard gave a short bow of thanks and scurried off down the road. For the rest of the day I kept to the far end of my stall and Geoff kept the mess of his victims on his own work table.
The day passed and only a few more patrons stopped by my shop. The corridor bustled with soldiers, looking for fresh clothes and fine foods to break the monotony of the military issued wares. Only a few stopped by looking for trinkets for loved ones or a souvenir to remember their expedition. They spent enough credits to buy me a dinner and get me through the next day. A small victory that failed to lighten my heart.
The sun set and the corridor cleared as troop leaders herded their soldiers back to their ships. The chill fell hard upon Gersemi at night and many stall owners rushed back to the warmth of their homes. But the cold felt like a familiar touch against my skin, pulling the mountains of my planet forward in my mind.
As usual, I packed my wares away with care. My hands passed along a necklace, the beads formed from the crystal sand of Bendalur. I tried it on every now and then, gazing into the mirror, hoping to find the reflection of Bendalur’s shoreline in the marble of the glass. I stroked the smooth leather of a small ornate satchel. The merchant didn’t know which animal the hide originally belonged to and my mind wandered to the possible beast that gave its skin for this treasure. I brushed the dust from an analog clock from Earth. Little doors guarded tiny figurines that danced along the clock’s mantle. I was still looking for a proper book to teach me how to fix it so that I could hear its chime. Each one a relic of some planet and people. I wondered of the stories they must have seen and the ones that still lay before them.
Above me, the arms of the galaxy swept through the dark blue of night like a stroke of purple paint. The stars, barely aware of the street lamps’ glow, glittered in the blanket of space. Each one a home to some system, each one a mother to an array of planets, each one holding a multitude of stories and treasures in their gravitational pull. I dreamed of leaving this planet, buying a ship and taking my trade to the stars, but with each load of soldiers pouring into our streets, those dreams seemed to wash away with the coming tide of war.
I nearly finished sealing my crates when I felt the familiar touch of a watchful gaze. I spun on my heel, ready to berate whatever soldier decided to slip out from the barracks and gawk at my foreign skin for amusement. But, the words remained caught in my throat as the Aveslor from before stepped forward, a golden statue gleaming in his hands. “Excuse me, Miss. Please. I’d like to sell you something,” he said, his voice shaking and his beaked mouth trembling with a feigned smile.
About the Author
Lesa Corryn
Lesa Corryn was born in Maryland and has spent, to this point, her whole life there. She earned a BA in Visual Arts, Animation and Interactive Media at University of Maryland, Baltimore County. After spending a few years determining that wasn’t what she wanted to do in life, she took up writing full time. She’s supported by her husband Arthur and her two cats, Cricket and Milo.
To find out more about Lesa Corryn and the Union Stories, please visit: www.lesacorryn.com
Table of Contents
Dents and Gashes
Scanner
Wires
Alarm
Asteroids
Violet
Flik
Tactics
Branches
Footfalls
Child
Yanda
Drowning
Walls
Truth
Fruit
Smile
Attack
Blood
Etchings
Ageria
Edelweiss
Translation
The Room
Questions
Flower
Madame Glade
Strawberries
Sunrise
Return
Talons
Queba
Soldier
Horizon
Epilogue
Of Trade and War
About the Author