Star Travels Tales of Science Fiction

by Rhea Rose

  He sweated. Pulled out a hanky from the inner breast pocket of the rumpled beige overcoat and dabbed his face and eyes. He ran his hand by the side pocket; felt the tiny lump in there then cast a tense glance at the black haired caryatid. Still calculating.

  He turned away from the shelf, was halfway past the woman when she spoke: "Is there anything I can show you, sir?"

  A drawer opened, slid out from the desk front like black ice. "Please take one of our catalogs." A slender, silver brochure lay there. "You will find the price list on one side."

  Had she seen him take the Koalakin? Was she stalling? He took the brochure, slipped it into his inner pocket and left.

  The next day was the same, except for the lighting. The arc was shaded, tolerable. The young woman, busy demagnetizing locks on a few small shipping trunks, gave him a porcelain smile. Her hair was different more brown. No eye shades, warm amber, honey colored eyes. It was for him. She was changing effects. Who had her last customer been?

  She left him alone. He went directly to the Koalakins, took the tiny creature from his pocket, and quickly exchanged it for a different one.

  "Their fur is genuine."

  His cane crashed to the floor, bounced twice, vibrated. Then she had his cane, placed it back under his hand. "I'm sorry," she said, sounding genuine. He groped for his hanky. "I owe you a discount for that." She selected a Koalakin from the shelf. "Twenty percent. Would you like one?" She stroked it lovingly. "Something else?"

  "How--how are they made?" He didn't look at her.

  "They're not made. Each Koalakin is selected specifically for its miniature size and quality. Taken from its nest while in its hibernation like state. Most collectors don't realize that this state lasts as long as ten years, and that the closer to the beginning of that time period an animal is selected, the better it takes to the preservation treatment. The viscera are removed and replaced with a bio-mechanical plexus -- an engine of sorts. Its ability to cry is an added feature. It doesn't do this in its natural state. The brain is also preserved. The eyes are removed, replaced with obsidian replicas. A few standard control threads woven into connection with the brain and the synthetic plexus permit the collector to turn the Koalakin on."

  "Excuse me, please. I'm not well." He moved away, as quickly as he dared, brushed his side pocket and felt the tiny swell of the stolen creature.

  He waited a day before he returned it and took another.

  His temporary home located on the outer rim, lower arc, top section of a half quarter, was dubbed Eight-ball. It had one redeeming feature; its speck of a window, no bigger than the bottom of a glass, didn't look into the hole. If he'd been able to get a bottom quarter he would have had the luxury of a floor window, too. Still he could stand up, and there was a separate sleeping area.

  The soupy green walls were freshly painted. The interior well lit. He struggled with the rubber tip at the end of the cane, removed it. Tapped the floor with the metal end, watched the entrance to the sleeping section.

  A shadow stirred, peered at him, grew paler as it moved from the back room. Its fluid hulk avalanched toward him. The Ming-thraw skittered around their tiny enclosure, like a happy dog, nearly knocking him off balance. She stopped in front of him, quiet, patient.

  Large, moist eyes, intelligent, budding delicately from her slender head, two dark beautiful worlds this gentle countenance betrayed her internal battering. But there were other signs. A crusty rim formed around her eyes. Her milky fur, soured with dark yellow stains. This station, and the others like it, were too small, too warm, her kind was meant for frost and chillier settings; he'd known the travel would be hard on her. But only she could single out her infant.

  He extracted the tiny Ming-thraw from his pocket, pushed its button, placed it in her hair, near the single swell that was her breast.

  The creature clawed blindly through her fur, then fell, thumped to the floor. She fled back to the shadows. He retrieved the Koalakin, turned it off and brought it in to her.

  She'd squeezed under his sleeping bench, forearms over her head, covering her eyes. Sorrow and despair. He knew. He slid down the wall, sat close and stroked her head. With the cane, he tapped the wall above the sleeper, explained in taps, and bangs and scratches that removed the paint, why he couldn't obtain all the infant Ming-thraws. That she'd seen them all, there were no more for him to bring to her, that he didn't know where else to look.

  He didn't tell her what the search had cost him. That he had just enough cash to get her home.

  He left to return the stolen Koalakin and arrange for her departure.

  At the duty free things had changed. A security officer, dressed in blue, strapped with vest and holster, played with the adjustment on her helmet. She stood just outside the entrance, nodded to him as he went in. The crystal shelf now seemed impossibly far, the clerk a moat he couldn't cross. He left.

  And took the long way home.

  When he got back, his place was empty, still damp with the Ming-thraw's cinnamon odor. He knew where she’d gone.

  Several people mostly station personnel in brown coveralls and tan canvas shoes, crowded outside the duty free.

  Inside, the Ming-thraw was down, sprawled against the shiny ebony; snow on jet. The blue guards let him through. He got down beside her. The Koalakins lay scattered like pieces of herself. She still clutched one of the dead infants. He pulled it away, examined it.

  "You its owner?" the woman security officer asked. "We had a report that one of these was wanderin' around here. Someone's phoned transportation for a stall."

  The Ming-thraw looked at him. Black skin rimmed her slack, quivering mouth. She shuddered, was still. "She's died," he said, slumping over her, resting his head on the warm fur. "She's died." The Koalakin slipped from his fingers.

  "It's not dead," the guard said, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. She helped him up. The stall had arrived.

  The two guards helped lift the Ming-thraw into the shipping crate.

  "Where're you taking her?" he asked, bewildered.

  "Shipping her Earthside," said one of the men, maneuvering the large red, styroacrylic box. One end had bars on the door.

  The stall barely fit through the duty free's entrance.

  Earth. He repeated the name silently.

  "It's been done before," the man continued. “A male, big bastard, walked into the meteor warning station on Alpha Mil. We caught it. Sent it Earthside. They'll be excited 'bout her. No offense, ol'man, but she'll be safer there. They'll release her into the Arctic. The whole planet's a bloody wildlife preserve. Out here she's fair game. Might be killed or captured for a pet. She's gonna live another hundred years or more. You're not so young."

  "I should go. I've lived with her. I communicated with her. I could tell those people all kinds of things about her," Kayden said.

  "Tell you what. We'll let whoever's in charge, know about you. Meanwhile she gets a free ride." They began to work the stall out.

  "Why did you bring a Ming-thraw to this station?" the duty free woman asked, a shadowy line formed between her eyes. He examined the fresh face, searched it for a ripple of real feeling.

  "She thought I'd know where to look. I figured the Koalakins would come here. I was sure, sure hers'd be here." He took a breath. "I used to hunt her kind. She caught me. Injured my leg. I stayed with her a long time and learned her ways. Left her alone after a while."

  "When I saw you taking them, I thought you might be—putting something in them or that something might already be inside them, smuggling perhaps. I warned a purchaser and one of the Koalakins was returned. Maybe that one was hers?" She collected the scattered Koalakins, handled them as if they were fragile.

  "You knew I was taking them; why didn't you report me?"

  "I did. There is nowhere to hide on Habitat."

  "She knew it'd be dead. We just wanted to do the right thing by it. I owed her that," he said. He approached the cage, looked in, and motioned for one of the men to o
pen it up.

  "Go ahead," said the one in charge.

  They'd set the temperature for her, condensation creating a soft fog. The Ming-thraw lay quietly, still sedated. He lifted her arm and tucked the Koalakin she'd been clutching back into place.

  "Can't linger. That's the ship." The man nodded toward the forward arc, to the docked Shadow Hunter. "Got to hook up with an Earth transfer in thirty minutes."

  Kayden stood back. They closed the door. He had just enough money for one passage on the Shadow Hunter. He glanced around the duty free.

  The Koalakins lay neatly on the black desk. He went over to them. The young woman was wiping the floor. He rested the cane against the edge of the table and quickly stuffed the creatures into his pockets.

  He grabbed his cane.

  "Did she have a name?" the clerk called to him.

  "Yes," he said, and pulled the rubber tip from the metal stick. He played its tip across the glistening surface of the floor, creating a delicate patina.

  She gave him a sad smile. Her eyes flicked to the empty table.

  "I hope you've found what you're looking for," she said.

  He nodded. "I have." He replaced the rubber tip, leaned for a moment against the desk, looked out at the Shadow Hunter, and wondered what it would be like on Earth.

  END

  Chronos’ Christmas

  Any minute, two more kids would be arriving at Daycare. Two replacements at once. That was unusual. Normally we arrived one at a time. Two would give us a small advantage over Deemi’s Daycare unit, but I’d already decided not to keep them both. I’d give one to Deemi. That would make for fair play, and I figured that this year my unit could still beat Deemi’s to Christmas.

  Three of us sat in different corners of the large activity room, across from Ceep who filled an entire wall of the pentagonal room. Except for his flashing red eye and the blue glow from his vidscreen, we waited in the dark; it was better for the arrivals of the replacements, less of a shock for them.

  I could hear Snuks sucking her thumb, and I tried to see where she was hiding. She must have noticed, because she leaned out of the shadows and into the vidscreen’s blue glow, looking eerie. Her round eyes made contact with mine.

  Ceep’s red eye, located at the other end of the room where Geebo waited, became a steady red.

  “They’re coming,” I said to the others.

  “Chronos?”

  It was Ceep. “Here,” I answered.

  “Stand by for replacement 1313M and replacement 1315M, both chronological four.”

  “Double chrono four?” I asked. I thought that was strange. I went over to Ceep and touched him for a pause and repee. He repeated, and I’d heard the computer correctly. Chrono fours, two of them. Snuks, Geebo and I had all arrived when we were five, and as far as I knew the kids at the other unit had all arrived when they were five, too. This Christmas I would be nine and Snuks would be six. This was her first Christmas at Daycare. “We’re ready here, Ceep,” I said. Instantly, above our heads, pink finger-thin laze shot across the room. It was a soothing, hypnotic color, and I had to walk away for a moment. The beam began to pulse, expanding in all directions and filling the room with a warm sleepy glow. A low hum caused vibrations in the floor and walls. I looked over at Snuks, her hiding place was exposed by the light, and she was really pulling on her thumb. She’d never seen the arrival of new kids.

  At the centre of the room appeared a blue dot as big as a fingernail. It hung in mid air, and then another appeared beside the first. They grew simultaneously. Snuks was engrossed by the process, or maybe she was just affected they the light. Whichever the case, she appeared to be watching very carefully. The miniature dots started to take shape the tiny human forms looked like holos suspended just above the floor. They stayed that way for a moment, and then quickly grew. The pink light intensified, became brighter, and a sudden white flash blinded us for an instant.

  “How long?” I asked.

  “Two hours before they are fully awake,” Ceep replied.

  I heard Geebo set down the gadget he’d been tinkering with while the new kids arrived. He’d been preparing the gadget for Christmas, but now that the replacements were here, he was more interested in them. He began looking the new arrivals over, checking their pockets, cutting the Velcro from their clothes and stuffing the strips into his own pockets. Ceep’s red light shone in Geebo’s hair making it almost the same color as mine. It was the only time Geebo and I ever resembled each other. We were the same age, but he was a head shorter than me. His dark eyes were almost black, while mine were pale, almost colorless. I was the only one at Daycare with freckles.

  I could see that Geebo was completely absorbed with the sleeping kids, while Snuks sat back in the shadows like she always did when something was new to her. There was little to do except wait for the arrivals to wake up so that we could orient them to Daycare and Christmas, which would be the next day. Deemi and his unit would be anxious to beat us to it, if they could. But we were ready, too.

  “You gotta see these kids, Chronos,” Geebo said. He came over to me, brushing his dark hair out of his eyes and exposing a thin, raised white line that ran horizontally across his forehead – a scar from a gadget that had backfired on him when he was younger. Geebo hadn’t been much of a talker when he first came to Daycare, and after he was killed the first time, he spoke even less. The only time I’d ever seen him excited was over a new gadget he’d created and now, with these new kids. He tugged my sleeve insistently.

  I followed him, and we crouched over the small bodies. He pulled a tube of glow grease out of his pocket, squirted some into his palms, and then rubbed them rapidly together.

  Snuks crawled over from her corner. Her long golden hair, curling delicately at the ends, became blue as she passed through the light cast by the vidscreen at her end of the room. Sitting cross-legged, she looked at the sleeping arrivals, then at me. One of her fingers was curled over he nose as she sucked her thumb. Geebo had made her a warm-doll which she held by its head in the crook of her arm. I thought the doll was dumb, with its gaping mouth exposing its large front tooth, but Snuks would fight anyone who tried to take it from her. She took her thumb out of her mouth. ‘Ith that how I came here?”

  “Yeah, ‘cept you were a pink dot, not blue,” I said.

  “Why?”

  “Cause you’re a girl.”

  “Why am I the only girl?” she insisted.

  “I asked Ceep about girls once,” I told her. She shifted her warm-doll from oone arm to the other. “He said that girls used to be a lot more popular, but for a long time now girls haven’t been requested as much.”

  “Why am I here, then?”

  “I don’t know,” I lied.

  “Doth Theep know?” She looked from me to Ceep.

  I was relieved when Ceep didn’t say anything. Sometimes he’d give answers but other times he wouldn’t, but by that time he’d only told Deemi and me about girls like Snuks. He said that she was a longlifer. All girls were. It’s the way the dults wanted them. When she was ready to leave Daycare the dults would eventually trade her to Offworlders. She wouldn’t get to be immortal like me and Geebo and the others at Daycare, like the dults. Ceep told me not to tell Snuks just yet. When I asked Ceep who the Offworlders were and why they weren’t immortal, he just stayed quiet.

  “Look.” Geebo elbowed me. He grinned and held a green glowing hand over the face of each replacement. I was surprised to see their faces were identical, and I had a feeling these two would be special. Christmas, and now the replacements, had me excited and a little nervous.

  They awoke earlier than Ceep had calculated and sat quietly in the same place they had been deposited. Fair- haired and shy, they looked up at Ceep. He was talking to them, telling them about Daycare.

  “Since the skirmishes with the Offworlders first began more than a century ago, it became economically unfeasible to restore Daycare to its original standards. When those in charge of maintenance w
ere destroyed in a particularly violent encounter with the Offworlders, the dults, who long ago lost the ability to nurture their young, also lost the maintenance knowledge needed to make sure I continued to perform the task for them. Now it is entirely up to me to make the necessary adjustments in both of you if you are to fulfill the role the dults have prescribed for you.”

  “What adjustments?” one of the replacements asked Ceep.

  “Those cannot be determined until you have spent more time at Daycare,” he replied.

  I knew that Ceep was talking about the times they’d be killed. Any desired abilities they displayed before their first three deaths would be “sharpened” by him.

  Ceep continued: “A basic foundation of knowledge is given to all of you before you come to Daycare, but the dults can never be sure, any more, what your pre-Daycare knowledge along with your adjustments and experiences at Daycare will result in. It is during your time in Daycare that your intrinsic abilities will – or will not – manifest.”

  One of the little kids turned to me. “What do you call him?” he asked.

  “Ceep.”

  “Why do you call him Ceep?”

  “He makes a noise that sounds like ‘ceep.’ But forget him,” I said. If these two were going to participate in Christmas, we would have to orient them to Daycare pretty quickly. Officially, Christmas started at 1900 hours, now only a few hours away.

  “One of you has to join Deemi’s Daycare unit. Now who wants to go?” I looked from one to the other.

  “Does Deemi have one of those?” One of them pointed to Ceep.

  “Yeah. His unit’s identical to this one, and Ceep is over there, too.”

  “I’ll go,” said the one who’d been doing all the talking so far.

  “Good. Ceep, has Deemi responded to my message about the new arrivals?”

  “Yes. He says that if you want to take Christmas this year, you should keep them both. You need all the help you can get.”

  I ignored the message. When I first came to Daycare, I arrived at Deemi’s unit. He taught me everything he knew about getting Christmas. Together, Deemi and I used to be on the same team, we were invincible. Every year, Christmas was ours. But when he started making his own rules, I left his unit.