by T. R. Harris
“I suppose this makes me Princess Leia, or is that honor reserved for our over-sexed alien friend?”
“I don’t know what you mean—”
“C’mon, having delusions of grandeur are you, Riyad? Or should I call you Han, Han Solo?”
“What is it you are speaking of?” Arieel finally asked.
“Just a little Earth mythology, Arieel. Riyad thinks he’s some kind of dashing scoundrel of a hero. What was Solo called…a scruffy-looking nerf-herder?”
“Who’s scruffy-looking?”
“I understand nerfs are an indigenous bovine species of Jalin IV, according to the Library?” Arieel said.
“Yeah, I’m sure they are, just like George Lucas was probably an alien placed on Earth to help acclimate the population to…well, all of this.” Sherri waved her hand at the expanse of the spaceport, having just stepped through the doorway of the Najmah Fayd. “You’re really going out in public like that?”
“You have to admit, I look good.”
“I don’t recall Han having a full black beard and a swarthy complexion.”
“His loss.”
Sherri reacted to Riyad’s brilliant white smile with a shake of her head. “Save it for the uninitiated, Riyad. Been there, done that.”
Their friendly banter was interrupted by the arrival of eight burly-looking aliens representing three distinct species. Each was over seven-feet tall and barrel-chested. They wore bandolier ammo belts of flash power packs crisscrossing their torsos, and double holsters of MK plasma weapons, along with an assortment of other defensive instruments made up of metal rods and other things with spikes. Seeing the range and depth of their personal arsenals, Riyad gained a sense of confidence that his ship would remain safe while on the surface of Wokan.
One of the aliens stepped up to the trio with purpose. He eyed the females with unabashed bravado. “Is your harem accompanying you?”
“We are not his harem,” Sherri stated defiantly.
The alien met her angry eyes with a steely indifference. “As you say.” He turned his attention to Riyad: “I am Saln Xacin, of Apex Defensive Services. Is the vessel unoccupied?”
“It is…and it will remain so,” Riyad answered as he slipped a stack of Juirean credits into the outstretched hand of the Defender. “We’re heading into town for a couple of hours. No one is to attempt entry or even to approach the craft. Is that understood?”
“It is a unique vessel. It will gain much attention—and desire—here on Wokan.”
Riyad handed him an additional two chips.
“But it will remain secure.”
“See that it does. If so, there will be a bonus for all of you when we return.”
“This is your first arrival on Wokan.” The comment was a statement, not a question. “Our reputation as Defenders here is very important. We do not get hired if we allow a breakdown in security. Your vessel will be safe, although a bonus would be appreciated.”
“I thought so. Is that our transportation?”
Saln pointed to a rusty box on wheels sitting nearby. “Yes, it is reliable and affordable. One of my Defenders will accompany you.”
“Is that necessary?” Sherri asked.
The alien regarded her for a long moment before responding…to Riyad. “He will serve as your guide and protector. The transport driver also has his own Defender.”
“It could get a little crowded in there,” Riyad commented with a smile. He pulled his lips back over his teeth when he noticed a reaction from Saln. “Sorry, force of habit.”
“I would recommend you control that…habit. It would not do for you to get yourself killed over a misunderstanding.”
“Do you realize what species we are?” Sherri asked.
Again the long scrutiny. “You could be Scarpins, or possibly even Humans. I am not sure.”
“We are—”
“We are Scarpins, you are correct,” Riyad said, cutting off Sherri’s proclamation.
Saln then turned his lustful expression on Arieel. “And you are definitely a Formilian. We see your kind rarely, and even less so the females. Will you be staying on Wokan long?”
“Only as long as necessary,” Riyad said, before taking both the women by the arm and steering them toward the transport. “Keep everyone away from my ship…and that includes your Defenders. There are special security defenses attached to the hull which I’m sure you will find very unpleasant.”
In the front seat of the electric cab was the driver, and another huge alien armed to the teeth seated next to him. As Riyad, Sherri and Arieel slipped into the back, one of Saln’s huge Defenders squeezed onto the single bench seat next to Arieel. The accommodations were unquestionably tight.
“You may sit on my lap,” the Defender said to Arieel.
“Oh, that would be more comfortable.” Arieel lithely moved onto the wide expanse offered to her. She remained there only a few seconds before forcing herself back between the Defender and Sherri.
She eyed the alien with embarrassment, as the Defender stared back at her with a satisfied grin. “Forgive me,” she said.
“There is nothing to forgive. I enjoyed it.”
“Oh my God…did you just—”
“Destination?” the driver called out.
“O-Pell Energy,” Riyad announced, anxious to change the subject.
“South or east?”
“The main operation.”
“South. That will be sixty credits.”
Riyad passed him the chips, noticing how the cab’s Defender was looking into the back at Arieel. “You may now choose to sit in the front…with me,” he offered.
“No thank you. I am content to remain where I am.”
“I am a Fasson…have you heard of us? You may be impressed—”
“Leave my customers alone, Najaz,” the driver scolded. “Save your bragging for the walkers in the Dacca Sector.”
“It is not bragging…it is a fact.”
“Can we please change the subject,” Sherri asked.
The Defender in the front seat now shifted his attention to her. “I would not be opposed to even you joining me up here…”
Sherri’s MK was in her hand in a flash, the barrel pressing hard against the alien’s cheek while her free hand held his head in place. He struggled to pull away, but Sherri’s superior strength held him firm. “I said let’s change the subject.”
“No fighting in the transport!” the much smaller cab driver called out.
“We aren’t fighting, are we? Just having a meeting of the minds.”
“Yes. I mean no…no fight. You may remain where you are.”
“I thought so.” Sherri released the Defender and settled back onto her seat. She looked over at Riyad and beamed a full-tooth grin.
“One of these days you’re going to get us all killed,” Riyad said under his breath.
“Not before I teach these aliens how to respect a woman.”
“An MK does have a way of getting respect.”
“Exactly.”
********
The rest of the trip made done in silence, the occupants taking in the glorious sights of the city of Essen. As was expected, it was a real shithole. Without any government supervision, construction was haphazard and definitely not up to code. There were short buildings and tall buildings. There were tall buildings that had toppled over onto smaller buildings, only to be modified into a blend of both from the debris. And the traffic followed no orderly pattern. He with the largest vehicle made the rules, so there was a number of tank-like transports literally barreling their way through traffic. On the thirty minute ride to the south side offices of O-Pell Energy, they witnessed no fewer than three murders as angry drivers and riders engaged in full-on shootouts with the drivers and Defenders of tanks. Most often, the tank drivers—and their security guards—won out.
O-Pell Energy was located within a walled compound guarded by several hundred Defenders. The company was rich enough to have its own secu
rity force. They displayed themselves along the tops of the wall and at guard stations located at the two entrances. The transport pulled up to one of these entrances and stopped.
“You are here,” the driver announced. “Do you wish me to wait? It will be nine additional credits her hour.”
“Yes, wait. But can’t we enter the grounds? We have business to conduct inside.”
“No unauthorized entrance. Speak with the Defenders at the gate.”
The trio exited the vehicle, along with the still grinning Defender from Apex Defensive Services.
Riyad stepped up to a window in the guard shack. “We wish to meet with someone regarding the purchase of energy modules.”
“In person? Most orders are accomplished remotely,” said the guard on the other side of the glass.
“We just arrived, and we have special needs.”
“What special needs?”
“SCAC-18 mods.”
“Are you a power source buyer?”
“Yes, for a new plant being installed off-planet. We will need quite an amount. It will be a very large order for O-Pell.”
“I doubt that,” said the guard. “This is a very large company.”
“Still, it will bring a very large commission to our representative.”
“And who is that?”
“We do not have one at this moment. Please pass along our inquiry to those inside. Then let’s see who is aggressive enough to earn our business.”
“I will do so…but I too require a commission.”
“For calling over to the main building?”
“You do not have an appointment. It is how things are done on Wokan.”
Riyad slipped him a ten credit chip. The guard looked at him and frowned. Another two chips were passed under the glass barrier before the Defender made the call.
“Your Defender must remain here. He will not be needed inside.”
A few minutes later, a small golf cart-like transport arrived driven by a creature who could best be described as a large rodent-like thing. His seat had even been cut out to accommodate his long tail, while tiny, delicate hands gripped the steering wheel.
The two Humans and Arieel climbed aboard, and without a word the cart took off for the largest of the buildings within the compound.
The structures here were different from those outside the walls. These appeared to have been built by professionals, probably imported from the Expansion. The main building was over twenty stories tall, and there were six other smaller buildings filling the compound.
They were let off at the main entrance, which featured a wide, glass-paneled foyer. A thin alien with black skin watched them enter the building .
“I am Quiss. I will be your representative for O-Pell Energy,” he said as an introduction. No hand was offered.
“I am Riyad,” said the Human, following Quiss’s lead of no last names. Of course, he might not have one. Riyad didn’t know. “And this is Sherri and Arieel.”
“Will your slaves require other accommodations while we conduct our business?”
“They are not my slaves,” Riyad stated quickly before Sherri was tempted to draw her weapon again. “They are my business associates.”
“They are?” said the alien with genuine amazement. “I have heard of such things. How…unique.” He regarded the two females before turning his attention back to Riyad. “So you require a quantity of SCAC’s. They are very rare and expensive, as you must be aware.”
“I am aware. But I think it best that we conduct our business in a more secure location.”
“Of course, please follow me. Besides, I will need access to our database to check inventory…and your credit rating.”
Riyad and Arieel followed the alien. Sherri brought up the rear, her face red and her blue eyes on fire. Riyad had been to a lot of planets in the galaxy, and he had to admit, he hadn’t seen too many that were more misogynistic than Wokan. He prayed Sherri could hold herself together long enough for them to get the information they needed. Murder might be legal on the planet, but it was still a complication he didn’t need.
They entered a large conference room and were offered seats around an oblong table with three computer terminals placed on top. Quiss activated one of the terminals.
“SCAC-18’s, you say. Used primarily in city-size power plants and specialized spaceships of the Class-Six or larger variety.”
Riyad could see the dollar signs already registering in the mind of the alien. This could be a huge commission for the skinny creature. “That is true, but I also understand they are used in specialized starships of a smaller size.”
Quiss frowned. “I have not heard of such a thing.”
“My ship employs them,” Riyad countered.
“Indeed? What is the make of your ship?”
“It is a prototype. There is no brand name.”
“Is it here on Wokan?”
“Yes it is.”
“Are you seeking modules for it alone? I understood you were here to place a larger order.” Quiss pushed away from the table, a frown on his face.
“Yes, we are. Much larger. In fact, it was because of our need for SCAC’s that my ship was built. Since there would be so many of the mods available, it only made sense.”
The alien’s expression changed. “Very good. And how many units would you be needing? And will this be on a continual basis?”
“Initially, I will need two hundred, and then a maintenance amount of forty per standard month.”
Now there was no hiding it. The attitude of the salesbeing changed dramatically. He pressed a button on the table. “Please bring a testing box for refreshments.” Turning back to them, he said, “Let me provide you with the best O-Pell can offer. We also have accommodations for a longer stay within the compound. There will be no need for you to seek them within Essen. You would not want that anyway.”
“We appreciate that,” Riyad said. “But remember, along with the bulk order I will also need to place a smaller order for my ship. I will be paying for that separately.”
“What quantity do you require?”
An attendant came in carrying a small box. Each of the visitors placed a finger inside and then the attendant left.
“Five only.”
“Five? That is indeed a very small order. Normally there would be a surcharge added, but I can probably waive that in light of the larger, bulk order.”
“That would be appreciated. Do you deal in such small quantities?”
“I am not sure. I will check.”
The attendant returned with a tray of bubbling, clear liquid drinks. The trio tested them. “Not bad,” Sherri said. “Intoxicants?”
Quiss grinned. “Mild,” he said. “They should not impair your judgement, if that is your concern.”
“My concern would be for more of them. These are delicious.”
Quiss beamed. “I am glad you approve.” He nodded to the waiting attendant, who left the room to get more of the drinks.
Looking at his screen, Quiss said, “Yes, we have on occasion supplied smaller quantities of SCAC-18 mods—in fact, just recently, as I can see.”
“Really? I thought I was the only one with a ship that required them, other than the huge carrier platforms the Juireans use.”
“There appears to be another…someone local.”
Riyad shifted over so he could see the screen. Its data was displayed in an alien language so it did him no good. “For another prototype vessel?”
“That I cannot tell. But there was a delivery made only a few days ago that was subsequently picked up. Ah…I see now. It was a brokered deal.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means an independent placed the order for delivery to an ultimate end-user.”
“What end-user?”
“That I would have no way of telling.”
“Who was the broker?” Sherri asked impatiently.
Without hesitation, Quiss answered. “Syrus Jacs…I should
have known.”
“Who is Syrus Jacs?” Riyad asked.
“He is a nomad around these parts. He deals in whatever others are willing to buy. However, he does tend to specialize in exotic power sources. He took delivery of a stock of five mods two days ago.”
“I would be curious who his buyer is?”
“As would I. As I said, I would have no way of knowing that.”
“Where could we find Syrus Jacs?”
Quiss looked at Riyad with concern. “He would not be able to supply the mods for less than I can. We are the dealer. He would have to add his fees on top of that.”
“I realize that. I would just like to know what other ship uses SCAC-18’s. It can’t be a large ship, not with an order of only five mods.”
“I doubt he would be forthcoming with that information.”
“Would you mind if we asked?”
“Asked? You can ask. I can’t stop you.”
“So where would we find this Syrus Jacs?”
“He resides on Lasiter.” Seeing the blank look on Riyad’s face, he continued. “It’s about eighteen light-years from here, Z18 degrees by forty. It should be on your charts. But please, may we continue with our transaction? Discussion of Syrus Jacs and his smaller order has been a distraction.”
Riyad yawned. “Yes, it has been. But now I must impose on you. Earlier, you mentioned accommodations. My associates and I are operating on an entirely different time schedule than you are in Essen. It is quite late for us. And after these wonderful beverages, I believe it wise if we rest for a while before getting into the details of the order—the bulk order.”
Quiss looked at each of them. Then he sighed. “If that is your wish, I will make arrangements. How much rest would you require?”
“Not more than three or four standard hours. Will you still be here at that time?”
“Of course. I will not be leaving until our business is concluded.”
“Then the sooner we can get our rest, the sooner we can get back to it.”
“Indeed, and if you find you can continue sooner, please link to me. In the meantime, I will be working on the cost, taking into consideration your need for ongoing supplies of SCAC-18’s. I will make you the best deal possible—and may I add, without any annoying Expansion taxes.”