Pandora’s Crew (StarWings Book 1)

by Gorg Huff

  “Then be sure he felt that it would bring him some profit. They are not all short-sighted, just utterly self-obsessed.”

  The interview continued, and there were more questions from other reporters, as well as commentary.

  Rosita flipped the channel and got another news show, with other clans arguing about what the presence of the Pandora meant to Parthia. Both Kox and Zheck were looking less than spotless but, surprisingly, everyone was quite impressed with Danny Gold and Pandora. Sort of like the human response would be, if a lion actually did lie down with a lamb, and the lamb was allowed to get up again.

  Location: Zheck Clan House, Parthia

  Standard Date: 12 12 630

  “What does Clan Gold want for the information that Goldgok says is vital to the welfare of Clan Zheck if we are to continue in space?” Zheckfiss asked once Rosita was seated with a cup of mint tea. They were in Zheckfiss’ office again, since it was the clan’s master trader, and Clan Danny Gold was now an important trade partner to Clan Zheck.

  Professora Rosita Stuard, representing Clan Gold along with Goldgok and with the assistance of the artificial brain Sally, said, “We have been thinking about that since Goldgok pointed out that your people didn’t already know it. What we’ve decided is based on our desire for an ongoing relationship between Clan Gold and Clan Zheck. We feel that such a relationship would be of great interest to both your clan and ours. Can you tell me if Fly Catcher or any of the other ships which trade with Parthia have surveyed the system for additional jumps, aside from the one route that leads back to Canova?”

  “No, they have not. None of those ships are equipped with the sort of testing equipment needed for such a survey,” Zheckfiss said. “Goldgok knows this.”

  “That’s what we were expecting to hear. However, it’s not entirely true. Any winged ship has some ability to scan for jumps and older ships like the Pandora, that use a combination of intelligent artificial brains and a tied-in crew, are better at it. Fly Catcher’s crew was not equipped with internal interfaces. Was that for some religious or cultural reason?”

  Zheckfess’ eyestalks twisted to focus on Goldgok. “Partly. But it is also because our nervous system is more distributed than a human’s. Our brains are in a sheet that sits under our upper shell. It’s concentrated in the front quarter of the shell, near the sensory organs, but it’s not nearly so localized as a human brain.”

  Rosita nodded. The answer was what she was expecting. “Yes, we have all of this from Goldgok,” she confirmed, “and we didn’t doubt it, but we wanted you to be aware of how our thoughts were flowing. As it happens, our elder male breeder is an expert in human cybernetic interfaces and has been examining Goldgok since we joined the ship. One Parthian doesn’t make an adequate sample, and there’s less data on your people’s physiology than we would like. But he thinks that he probably can work up an interface that will work on your people. This would be useful for your people and profitable for us. What we would like in exchange for information about your people is information about your people. We want Doctor Gerhard Schmitz of the Gold Clan to be able to examine living Parthians and perform autopsies on deceased Parthians, in consultation with your doctors, to learn if we can safely provide your people with interfaces.”

  Rosita hid a smile as the eyestalks and mouth-parts of the Parthians scrunched up. Even Goldgok, though he knew what was coming and had time to get used to the idea, wasn’t comfortable with it.

  “There are political ramifications to your request that you may not be fully aware of. Did Goldgok explain the reasons Clan Zheck was trying to get into the outsystem trade?”

  “Not really. At least, not that I am aware of. But it joined Clan Danny Gold before my family did, so I may have missed that part.” She turned to look at Goldgok.

  “Not in any detail. It was internal Clan Zheck business, and Captain Gold didn’t push the matter. I believe that the ship Pandora may have deduced some of it, though we haven’t discussed the matter.”

  Zheckfiss wobbled his eyestalks in acknowledgment. “There was a divide between the planet-based clans and the clans that had operations in space even before the humans found our system. For the first several years, we—the non-space-going clans—were kept almost ignorant of what was going on in the rest of our system. It divided the clans into two groups. The much larger group was the clans that didn’t have any presence in space, and only a dozen or so clans had any real presence here at all. Those clans were charging the rest of us a premium—including the Kox clan. However, the Kox clan found itself in difficulty and our council found an opportunity. We, with the backing of several other clans, rented Fly Catcher, and we had hoped that the cargo from that ship would force the prices down. Make the other space-going clans lower their prices to compete.

  “We also expected to make a great deal of profit. However, when Fly Catcher returned with records that Goldgok had left it on—what was it?—Concordia Station, taking all of our goods and leaving the crew of Fly Catcher only their own property and without the funds needed to make the trip back, Clan Zheck was left with both a financial and a political nightmare. We had to sell much of our clan property to make good the financial losses of our backers. Those properties have already been sold, and not at the best prices. We can’t get them back. Our backers were upset by the story Captain Kesskox told, and even though you have brought back goods, they aren’t much more satisfied. We bought them out at their insistence, but now they want back in.”

  “It seems to me that your backers, having already eaten their cake, want you to bake them a new one.” Seeing the confused looks on the Parthians, Rosita added, “Never mind. I simply meant they wanted it both ways.”

  “I couldn’t agree more. But there are political reasons why we can’t afford to push that point. If we do push, it will embarrass the clan councils of the clans that backed us and destroy alliances that have lasted for generations.”

  Rosita shook her head, feeling uncomfortable in the higher gravity. The Pan usually ran at a standard gravity, ten meters per second acceleration, slightly more than an Old Earth gravity, but Parthia had a gravity of 12.3 meters per second. “I’m sure that this has a bearing on our request, but so far I am not seeing it.”

  “Were we to grant your request and word got out, it would embarrass the clan at the worst possible time. Right now, things that would normally cause no more than a casual wave of the eyestalks could lead to public breaches of relations between Clan Zheck and our allies.”

  It made excellent sense to Rosita—more, in a way, than she was expecting. She was used to the political infighting of a university, and while this was more group-oriented than what she was used to, the outline of the thing was not all that different. “Let me think about it,” she offered. “There is no great hurry unless you’re planning to send your clan members to space in the near future.”

  “At this point, we aren’t planning to send our clan members to space at all.”

  “Well, I think you will change your mind about that. In the meantime, however, let’s talk about your proposal for the figuring of the running expenses of the Pandora and the percentage of the cargo that belongs to Clan Zheck.”

  Location: Pandora, Parthian Parking Orbit

  Standard Date: 12 15 630

  “We are going to be here for a while,” Rosita Stuard reported a few days later, sitting in the lounge with Danny. The lounge didn’t echo quite as much as it used to. The new Parthian wall hangings Danny purchased and installed saw to that.

  “We have a solid agreement about how much of the cargo of the Pandora is ours and how much is Clan Zheck’s.” She gestured at the lounge’s big screen and a set of graphs appeared, the functional content of the agreement. “We have agreements for the exchange of neurobiological data with Clan Zheck, though we are waiting on the possibility of autopsies.”

  Another set of data came up on screen. “The important point, though, is that Goldgok believes that he can parlay the stake we hav
e into a lot of money. He knows the local players and by now he’s up on the recent events.”

  Danny looked at the graphs and data sets on the screen for a few moments, then nodded. “What am I going to do for the next several months? I didn’t mind bringing Goldgok home, and since that didn’t work out I’m fine with it staying on. But that doesn’t mean I want to sit here twiddling my thumbs while you people play corporate raider.”

  “I think while we are here you should go out and survey the outsystem for jump points, Captain. We will want to stay on Gkok Station—at least Gerhard and myself and, of course, Goldgok—but the rest of the crew should go with you.”

  Location: Gkok Station, Trading Floor

  Standard Date: 12 15 630

  Goldgok’s eyestalks roamed in a careful pattern, examining the commerce board that was against the far wall of the trading floor as well as the couches and plants that dotted the curved floor of the large open room. It looked at the couches and the Parthian traders of dozens of clans as they worked buying and selling goods. Prices changed on the main board as individual traders made bids, both electronically and through gestures of their eyestalks and mouth-hands. It saw a trader from the Fes Clan and moved in that direction.

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  Goldgok held its temper. Barely. This was the third such remark it encountered since it entered the trading floor of the station. None of them were out-and-out refusals to deal, but all of them were, in effect, insisting that he pay a surcharge to them for them having to deal with a pervert. Still, Goldgok didn’t allow its mouth-hand to scrunch up or change its eyestalks’ motion. Its center arms didn’t assume a threatening posture. Goldgok simply assured the agent from Clan Goks that Goldgok wouldn’t bother him further, nor would Clan Gold pay any surcharge to deal with anyone.

  Goksfik made the Parthian equivalent of a smirk and turned away, confident that Goldgok would be forced to deal with him on his terms soon enough.

  Goldgok left the floor. This would take study.

  No. This would take no study at all. He’d already done it in Danworth, when he used Robert to front for him. All he needed was a new front.

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  Back in its room, Goldgok scanned the reports. He needed a trader, but not a prominent one. He went looking for clans that were in trouble. And he found one in an unusual place. Clan Kiig was invested in the equipment trade and lost quite a bit when Pandora showed up with her holds full of human-made equipment. Add to that the poor guk harvest, and Clan Kiig was in real trouble . . . and in need of funds. They were selling almost fifty of their members on the open market.

  Goldgok had Rosita and Sally make the arrangements, as the human members of Clan Gold were well thought of, unlike itself. They rented the apprentice trader, Kiiggaak. They paid a large deposit, in essence paying the full purchase price with an agreement that the Kiig could buy Kiiggaak back at any time before Pandora left, at a set price. That had the advantage that it didn’t change its name, so no one would need to know that they were dealing with Goldgok at all.

  Location: Parthia orbit, Gkok Station

  Standard Date: 12 18 630

  Kiiggaak was less than thrilled to be here, but the clan needed the money. It was all Clan Zheck’s fault, really. First seeming to lose its investment, then showing up with so much more human equipment than was expected. That trashed the market in human machinery at just the wrong time. Kiiggaak reached the lock and used its mouth-hand to push the admittance key. There was a pause, then the lock opened and he was looking at the infamous Kgok. It almost said it out loud, but caught itself and said, “Goldgok,” instead.

  “Come in,” gestured the neuter female and, unwillingly, Kiiggaak complied.

  They walked into the chamber. “I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors,” Kgok said. “They are almost entirely false, with just that half-guk kernel of truth that makes them hard to refute. Would you like to hear our side of the story?”

  Kiiggaak would rather not have anything to do with these perverts, but it gestured assent. What else could it do? For the next few hours, Kiiggaak heard a story that was both like and unlike the rumors. And at the same time, bit by bit, learned what was wanted of it.

  The ears of a Parthian are not single organs. Instead, a number of the spines on their backs near the front of their bodies are wired into their nervous system, and vibrations along those spines give them both hearing and a spatial sense. That had the effect of making any sort of ear mic difficult to produce. But Doctor Gerhard Schmitz had managed it and it wasn’t even all that visible. It did take tuning, and the sort of electronic devices that Doctor Schmitz worked up were primarily neural-net systems, so they had to be trained.

  It took a few weeks, during which Goldgok and Kiiggaak got to know each other. Kiiggaak slowly realized that the big neuter female wasn’t going to get drunk on Bangers and make inappropriate advances on it.

  Location: Parthia orbit, Gkok Station

  Standard Date: 12 23 630

  Kiiggaak walked out onto the floor and made a gesture with its right eyestalk, a tentative offer on dak fur. It got a response and made more offers, then it offered other items for sale. It was just one of many traders on the floor and was mostly unknown here. Kiiggaak represented a company that was owned by Clan Gold, but that ownership was not obvious. Kiiggaak listened politely and at the same time listened to the spine mic that it wore.

  Kiiggaak was getting surprisingly good deals. The prices were better than any of them expected, even Goldgok. Gradually, through the day, Kiiggaak realized that the traders on the floor were cutting their eyestalks to spite their mouth-hands as they attempted to punish both Goldgok and Clan Zheck for not being exactly the perverts they were painted as.

  This was all turning out to be an excellent learning experience. Kiiggaak was in quite a good mood by the time it got back to the rooms of the Gold Clan on station. Those rooms were located in the small human section of the station. It felt even better as it walked through the rooms, not noticing the aroma. The aroma was a subtle thing, not consciously noticed by most Parthians, but it felt like home.

  Location: Parthia outsystem, between TjisKee and Sikikee

  Standard Date: 01 01 631

  Danny sat in the command chair of Pan’s bridge with his control cap on and his mind linked with Pandora. He felt the wings and the space, and he felt Jenny and little Angi in the background. John was in the garden. Hirum, in his new flexsuit, was working on the hull. All that data was flowing through Danny’s mind, but in the background—an almost meaningless hum of information compared to the feel of space around him. Two weeks into the outsystem search and no jumps so far, but that wasn’t bad. They had plenty of time.

  He felt the space and thought at Pan to shift the beat pattern a little, and shift them up a bit from their previous course. Yes, there was something. It might be a jump, or it might not, but it was the closest thing so far.

  Ten hours later he knew that it wasn’t a jump and the Pan shifted back to the survey. At the very least, they were getting a feel for the space junk in the system.

  Location: Parthia orbit, Gkok Station

  Standard Date: 01 01 631

  “You drank a Banger?” Goldgok asked Professora Rosita Stuard. “It wasn’t necessary here. There are several breeders on station.”

  “Perhaps. But this is the human section and I want you and Kiiggaak, as well as any guests we have, to feel comfortable.”

  Goldgok nodded its mouth-hand. “Any word from Captain Gold?”

  “They are still surveying. So far three not-quite jump points have been found, but no real ones. That was as of . . .” She paused, consulting her internal clock. “. . . seven hours ago. They are four light hours out, and the last message was three hours ago.”

  Rooms in Gkok Station, near Rick’s

  Standard Date: 01 03 631

  “Mr. Norman of Rick’s Cafe,” Rosita told Gerhard as they lay in bed, “is at least as shifty as Jenny thinks he is. He pumps
me for information every time I enter his restaurant, and you know Sally is catching cyberattacks on almost a daily basis.”

  “Luckily,” Gerhard said, “the system computers are expert systems with very little in the way of neural net support. It gives Sally a major advantage in dealing with them.

  “I had Sally set up a ‘honey box.’”

  That was a virtual system that was designed to let probes in and make them think that they were successfully invading the main system.

  Gerhard grinned. “Sally is filling the honey box with what we want the spies to know, basically that Pandora is doing a mining survey of the outsystem, between the planets TjisKee and Sikikee, and we have hopes of selling mining bots to the Zheck and possibly other clans.”

  It wasn’t exactly information that would endear them to the Gkok, the Fkis, or the other space clans, but it prevented them from realizing that Pan was actually looking for jump routes.

  “I know. Sally told me. I’m also working with Sally to find out what the Jackson-Cordoba Trading Company is up to.”

  “I’m more concerned about the tech level of the Parthians. They don’t have anything,” Gerhard complained, changing the subject.

  “Of course they do. Their tech is different, that’s all.”

  “I’m not blaming the Parthians, Rose,” Gerhard said, still grumpily. “They were barely into solid state when they were discovered. It’s us. The Cordobas and that Jackson-Cordoba cartel that are the problem. They’ve got the whole system convinced that artificial brains are dangerous.”

  “Had,” Rosita corrected. “Having the Pandora show up has gone a long way . . .”

  “I’m not talking about the politics. I’m talking about the scientists. And, yes, they are trying since we got here. But they are so far behind . . . and their life expectancy doesn’t help.”

  The life expectancy for a non-breeder male was fifty-two standard years, fifty for a non-breeder female. Breeders lived a bit longer, but were highly focused on breeding new Parthians. When you considered the roughly ten years they spent as what amounted to tadpoles, that didn’t leave time for most Parthians to acquire more than one professional skill. Gerhard had three: cyberneticist, interface designer, and biologist as part of the interface designer.