Dar's Adventures in Space 1: Space Crazy

by K. Rowe

  Dar felt a lump form in his throat. Now, at age twenty-eight, he felt an incredible bond with Gwog. “I feel honored that you called me crew; and even more honored that you’d think of me as son.”

  “You were one of my best, you’ll be hard to replace.” He reached in and unlocked a heavy metal door, pulling it open. Getting down onto his hands and knees, he leaned in and started bringing out huge, bound stacks of gold drig. “This should get the Marsuian fixed up.”

  “I can’t take that!” Dar stared at the pile.

  “You can, and you will…This is not a free gift, little one. I expect this paid back in time.” He closed the safe, collected the bundles of drig, and sat down at the desk. “I will write you a letter of reference. You show this to those who would like your services. My name, as you know, is known throughout the galaxy; and it’s a good name—don’t bring shame upon it.”

  “No, sir!”

  Gwog scribbled a letter, rolled it, and tied it with a piece of string. “Here’s three million drig. Get that sorry looking ship to Newrillis and have them fix her up proper. If there’s not enough to cover, ask to speak to Gorrin Algok, show him this letter, and he’ll give you a line of credit. Pay back the Newrillians before you pay me. Understood?”

  “Yes, sir!”

  He stood and faced Dar. “Should you ever want, or need to come back, there’s a job for you and a bunk to lay your head…I can say it has been an honor to have you as crew.”

  “Thank you, sir!”

  “Now, I highly recommend you find yourself a good engineer. With a ship of that age, you’re gonna need one—and maybe a deck hand or two in the future.” He offered his hand. “Good luck, captain.”

  Dar paused a moment before taking it. The flood of emotions going on inside him was almost out of control. “Thank you, sir,” he said softly.

  “You know, with a ship of your own, you’re competition.”

  “I’m aware of that.”

  “How about we stay friendly over the whole thing?”

  “What do you mean?” Dar asked.

  “I much prefer to do business on the light side of the galaxy. That leaves the dark side for you.”

  “You won’t take offence if I have to make a delivery to your side, will you?”

  Gwog smiled. “Not in the slightest. In fact, it would be good to see you once in a while.”

  Dar met his smile with one of his own. “Yes, it would be.”

  “Run along now, captain, your ship awaits.”

  “I must say my good-byes here.”

  “Hurry up before your docking fees get any higher.” He picked up the stacks of drig and held it out to Dar. “Have Jartis help get your things to the Marsuian—and don’t be stealing my engineer!”

  Dar laughed. “I wouldn’t dream of it!”

  After all the good-byes had been said, Jartis accompanied Dar to the Marsuian. “I can’t believe you’re leaving us,” the engineer said.

  “I kinda can’t either. The Cunik’s been my home for so many years.”

  “I’m gonna miss you—I hate to say it, but you were like a son to me.”

  Dar chuckled. “I seem to be a son to many: you, Gwog, Wenin, Barnig, Vikkis, Julaton, and Karnis. But Xetroiss considered me brother.”

  “You two were close in age.”

  They stopped at the viewing windows. “Well, there she is.” Dar pointed.

  Jartis peered out the window. “What’s her dimensions?”

  “Frankly, I don’t know.”

  He sat Dar’s things down, and with his fingers, made some strange movements. “I calculate her to be half a mile long and about a quarter mile wide.”

  “You think so?”

  Jartis held up his hand. “I know so.”

  “Certainly not the Cunik’s proportions, but I’m sure she’ll do.”

  “Single warp engine?”

  “Yup.”

  “Age?”

  “Older than the dirt in the bottom of your laundry bag,” Dar joked.

  “Very funny…So, are you gonna swing by Erotis and show Denrika your new ship?”

  “No, Gwog ordered me to Newrillis for a refit…And then after, I’ve been politely told I’m working the dark side.”

  “Ah, he fears a little competition.”

  Dar waved his hand at all the other ships. “It’s not like we’re the only game out there.”

  “I know, I know. But the dark side does hold many good trade planets.” He collected Dar’s things. “Come, show me your new ship.”

  “Certainly, my friend!”

  Dar rummaged around the control console. “Okay, where are you?” he grumbled, opening drawers and cabinets. “Ah! There you are.” He took out a comm headset and looked it over. “Hope you still work.” Putting it on, he fiddled with a small switch on the side; then he poked the communications button. He still found it ironic that the ship was Satiren in origin. Dar wondered who had owned it in the beginning.

  “This is Captain Dar Meltom of the Marsuian to Sirrixian port control.”

  “Go ahead, Marsuian.”

  “Requesting to undock and depart.”

  “Stand by.” There was silence for a few moments. “Request accepted. Docking fees are paid.”

  “Yes, thank you, I paid them just an hour ago.”

  “Mag-locks disengaging.” A loud clanking noise could be heard from the door below as the locks released. A moment later, Dar and the Marsuian were floating free.

  He switched off the comm headset and worked to bring the engine on line. “Come on, you can do it. You got fuel, I checked. Let’s make some tracks for Newrillis and I’ll get you all fixed up.” Firing the directional thrusters, Dar got the ship away from the space station. He knew what he was doing; it just felt so strange being by himself. Grabbing his reading tablet, he indexed through until he found all his coordinates listings. Spending so much time in navigation on the Cunik, Dar kept a log of where all the planets were, and how to get to them. “Okay, Newrillis, here we come.”

  Punching in the numbers, he locked it in. “Warp engine on line—check, course locked—check, no one in my way—check. Let’s go!” He pushed the throttle forward and felt the ship pick up speed. It was slow, but she was going. Dar watched the stars ahead become a streaky blur. “Warp one…two…three…” And then there was a loud rumbling from the stern of the ship. “Oh, what now?” He saw the ship slowing again. “Aw, what happened?”

  Shutting it down, Dar tromped aft to the engine room. When he opened the door, all he could see was red—red everywhere. Some of it dripped from the ceiling onto him. “Shit!” He stepped further inside, trying not to slip on the red goo. “Oh, fucking great, the mix tank for the Ceriddium blew…Now there’s no way I can jump to warp. It’s gonna take months to get to Newrillis at this rate.” He growled and took a few swings in the air, almost falling as he slipped in the Ceriddium.

  Dar stomped out, shutting the door. Later, after he cooled off, he’d go back and try and clean some of it up. Returning to the bridge, he brought the engine back on line and at least got full impulse power. Newrillis was a long way off. “Gee, what else can go wrong with this hunk of junk?” he grumbled, deciding maybe it’d be best to call it a day.

  Going to the door on the right of the bridge, Dar guessed it to be the captain’s cabin. He opened the door and found a few bits of rickety furniture and a bed. “Ah, at least this place has a bed.” Unlacing his boots, he kicked them off. “I need a nap.” He flipped onto the bed. Just as his whole body weight landed, the bed platform collapsed, leaving him in a sunken hole. “Would anything else care to break or fuck up today? Bring it on!”

  15

  Dar was stuck cruising through space for nearly three months. With no shuttle, and no space stations on his route, he’d been forced to return to Sirrix to get supplies. Adding to his misfortune, the Sirrixians didn’t possess the capabilities to fix the mix tank. So he could go no faster than full impulse.

  Now, back under
way, he had plenty of time to kill. Dar decided to make an out of the way detour to Uyoninis, hoping maybe he could find an engineer and perhaps a shuttle. After fashioning crude repairs to the bed, so he could sleep in it—the floor was proving rather uncomfortable and there were no mattresses in the crew quarters. Dar started to explore his cabin. Opening one of the cabinets, he found a log book. It was old and dusty, but he figured it might hold some information about the ship. The Satiren writing on the control console had him curious.

  As he took the log book and opened it, he found the first entries. They were written in Satiren. “Captain Rogoff Sarik. Log entry one.” He looked at the date. “Over fifty years ago!” Dar continued reading. “Pulled out of dock and set course for Erotis 3. Hauling a shipment of farming equipment, supplies, and 45. Warp engine working fine...” He sneered. “Yeah, working fine back then!”

  Deciding he wanted to try and relax, Dar got up and poured a glass of port. Settling back down, he continued reading. “…Marcy is a fine ship, probably one of the best Satiris has ever made. She’s certainly the biggest. Next trip I hope to get a full load of Ouzin caviar and deliver it to Uyoninis.” He took a sip. “Marcy, he called you Marcy, huh? Is that your name?” Turning a few pages, he looked at other entries. He noted that Captain Sarik commanded the ship for nearly fifteen years before it was evidently lost to pirates. Then there was a long break before the next log entry, one made by a Captain Ikt, written in Universal Ontarrin. “I have found this ship adrift in the Psi sector, taking it to the Delta 6 space station to see if anyone will claim it.” Dar noted the date of entry. “That was only ten years ago. Marcy, have you been drifting all that time?”

  As he read a bit more, he got to the bottom and turned the page; it was blank. Turning a few more, he realized that was where the log entries stopped. “Well, Marcy, I guess as your captain, it’s my duty to report in the ship’s log now.” He reached over and grabbed a scribe stylus. Looking at the time piece on the wall, he noted the date, time, and wrote:

  I am Captain Dar Meltom—half Satiren. This ship, the Marsuian, of Satiren origin now belongs to me after I won it in a poker game on the Sirrix space station. I’m taking her to Newrillis for a refit. Marcy is old and sorely outdated. I plan on starting a freight hauling business in the dark side, since my long-time friend and mentor, Gwog, chooses to work the light side. I hope Marcy and I will have a long, successful relationship together.

  Taking another sip of port, he set the log off to the side. Lying back further, he gazed out the large, triangular window above his bed. The stars were passing slowly. He reached his hand out, as if touching them. “Yes, mother, I do belong to the stars.” Finishing off the last of his port, he undressed and went to bed.

  Dar checked his navigation computer against his reading tablet. The computer was so old he really didn’t trust it. Then he looked out the window to the planet ahead. “Okay, Marcy, if you’re not lying to me, that should be Uyoninis.” He poked a few buttons on the control console. “Let’s get into orbit, and then I gotta figure out a way to get to the surface. It would’ve been nice if you came with a shuttle.”

  He made a slight course correction. Putting on his headset, he adjusted frequencies until he found the one for the planet. “This is freighter Marsuian to the planet Uyoninis.”

  “Go ahead, Marsuian.”

  “Uh, I’d like to come down for the slave auction, but I got a problem.”

  “Problem?”

  “Yeah, I just became captain of this vessel and it didn’t come with a shuttle…Is there a place I can land? Or perhaps a service that can come pick me up?”

  “Negative, Marsuian. No place to land, and we don’t have a shuttle service.” There was a long pause. “But you can try contacting one of the other freighters in orbit and see if they can come get you. We have an equipment auction that takes place right after the slave auction. Once in a while we get a few shuttles for sale.”

  “Ah, thanks, Uyoninis. I could sure use a shuttle.”

  “Try contacting the freighter Gokk, their captain is Urin Natto—very nice. He may be able to give you a ride to the surface.”

  “I appreciate it.” Dar flipped through some more frequencies. “Freighter Gokk, this is the Marsuian.”

  “Marsuian? Who are you?”

  “Captain Dar Meltom, I recently acquired this vessel. I used to be crew for Gwog on the Cunik.”

  “Ah, yes, Gwog. What can we do for you, captain?”

  “Are you by chance going to the slave auction?”

  “Yes, why?”

  “I’m in a bit of a bind. I need an engineer, and this ship has no shuttle. Could you possibly come pick me up? I’m hoping to get a shuttle at the equipment auction.”

  “Sure, we can do that. Two hours, okay?”

  “Yes, thank you, very much. And should we pass a tavern, I’ll buy you a round as thanks.”

  “Much obliged, captain.”

  Three hours later, Dar was on the surface, in the auction house, looking for an engineer. They’d stopped at a tavern, and Dar bought a round for everyone who came along. He realized that rule number four of Gwog’s rules of being a freighter captain applied: “Always treat your competition politely, you never know when you may need their help.” The captain of the Gokk was most gracious and even offered him a return trip should he fail to find a shuttle.

  Walking along slowly, Dar wondered if he’d even get lucky and find an engineer. Most were slaves out of the mines, or forced domestic help. Occasionally, he’d see one and ask if they had engineering skills. After a while, he was getting nowhere, and stopped to talk to the slave master, who stood guard over the cages of dangerous slaves. Dar wondered why they bothered to try selling slaves that would kill you if given the chance. “Excuse me?” he said.

  “Yes?” the slave master replied.

  “I was wondering if you might know if any of these slaves have skills in engineering?”

  “Engineering? Who are you?”

  “Captain Dar Meltom, of the Marsuian.”

  “Oh. You’re looking for someone who can work a warp drive?”

  “Yes.”

  “Dunno. Good luck finding one. I just keep ’em in line while they’re here, you know, give ’em a whipping if needed.” He pointed to the whip hanging off his belt.

  “Oh, right.” Dar looked at one of the cages. Inside, was a small, brown, furry creature about four and a half feet tall. He had a string around his neck with a piece of paper. His lot number was written on it. “Is that a Nouian?”

  “Yeah. Some rich Uyonin bought him a few weeks ago as a toy for his youngling. It seems the nasty little fur ball got mad and bit the youngling—nearly killed him.”

  “Killed?”

  “Didn’t you know Nouians have venomous bites? They got poison sacks in their mouths. When they bite, they can inject venom and either make you really sick, or kill you.”

  “Oh, that doesn’t sound too good.” He looked down at the Nouian, whose brownish-yellow eyes twinkled in the dim light. It seemed as if the creature was listening to their conversation.

  “Naw, if he doesn’t sell tonight, he’ll probably be taken out back and shot.” The slave master went on down the line of cages.

  Dar studied the creature for a moment before turning to move on. A small hand reached out and grabbed his leg. “Hey!”

  “Kaptaw,” the Nouian said.

  “What?”

  He pointed to Dar. “Je, kaptaw.”

  “I, I don’t understand. I’m sorry.”

  “Je kaptaw uk fregidor.” He pointed to the ceiling. “Fregidor.”

  “Fre-gi-dor?” Dar scratched his head. “Freighter?”

  “Ga!” the Nouian nodded.

  “Yes, I’m captain of the Marsuian.”

  He pointed to Dar. “Je kaptaw uk fregidor.”

  “I see. And you don’t speak Universal Ontarrin, huh?”

  The Nouian shook his head. “Nak.”

  “What do you wa
nt?”

  “Eg’m eginar.” He pointed to himself.

  “Huh?”

  “Eg’m eginar.”

  “I don’t know what you’re saying.”

  The Nouian stretched, trying to get a stick lying on the floor.

  Dar picked it up and handed it to him. The little alien drew a rectangle in the dirt. “Fregidor.”

  “Okay.”

  Then he drew a smaller rectangle inside the first one, toward one end. “Egin.”

  “You mean engine? Like a warp engine?”

  “Ga!” He pointed to himself again. “Eg’m eginar.”

  “You’re saying you’re an engineer?”

  “Ga!” He nodded vigorously.

  Dar shook his head. “You’ve got to be joking.”

  “Nak! Nak! Eg’m eginar!”

  “I think you’re just saying that so I’ll buy you.”

  “Nak. Je neg eginar, ag eg’m eginar.”

  Dar wasn’t exactly sure what the Nouian said, but he got the general idea that he was an engineer of some sorts. “If I buy you, you better not be lying. If you are, I’ll bring you right back here. Understand?”

  “Ga, eg unkterstundd.”

  Taking out a scribe stylus and a scrap of paper, Dar wrote down the Nouian’s lot number. He hoped the little fur ball wasn’t lying. He really couldn’t afford to come back and try selling him. Continuing, he went down the line, occasionally asking a slave some questions. Finding not much more in the way of possibilities, he went outside to view the equipment for sale. Amidst the odd lots of cargo handling equipment, farming implements, and a few things he didn’t recognize, he found a shuttle. The door was open, gangplank down, so he went in and had a look. There was a rear compartment that looked like it would hold a small amount of cargo, or maybe four or five reasonable sized passengers. Up front, a cockpit that sat two. It didn’t seem in too bad of shape, so Dar took the lot number down and decided he’d try bidding on it.

  At the end of the evening, Dar went up to pay for his purchases. The Nouian only cost three hundred drig. It seemed there wasn’t much call for a mean, venomous creature that no one could understand. The shuttle, however, cost a quarter million drig. But he sorely needed one, and figured that if necessary, he’d get the line of credit to fix up Marcy.