by Drayton Alan
Finally, Kale picked up the squishy sack of food and walked away without dropping it. He joined Nigel at his table, which was suitable for humans, in the back.
“Newbers, I never seen a Warfian so mad and not take a person’s head off. What’d you say, anyway?”
“All I said was, Grotworm and a baked potato, and everyone screamed?”
“Boy, you didn’t listen to nothing I said.” Nigel was shaking his head. “You don’t never ask for nothing extra at a Warfian restaurant, that’s suicide boy. You insult the hospitality of their clan. It’s what they consider an abusiveness to their repew-a-tation. I hope Nanaberi’s family don’t hold no grudge, would be a shame if you got a Warfian death pact made on ya the first day out.”
Kale hadn’t appreciated the extent of his blunder until Nigel said Warfian death pact, then it finally sunk in. Kale was now worried with good reason.
A Warfian that had been in line behind him walked past and whacked Kale’s head with his elbow, then he shouted something. Kale didn’t understand the words, but the message was clear.
“Ignore ’em, if you want to live,” Nigel said in a low tone still smiling. Through his teeth, he said, “Your only hope at this point is to be thunk an idiot. It’s a dishonor for ’em to kill an idiot.”
He handed Kale a plate, and a cellophane wrapped set of plastic ware complete with a napkin and small packets of spices. “Just dump the food onto the plate and eat it as quickly and rudely as possible. The only thing more insulting than asking for extra is not being eager and appreciative for the meal you got. Oh, and try to burp and smile, it’s a great compliment.”
Kale dumped the bag’s contents onto his plate as every Warfian in the room looked on. Their hands on their weapons ready to repay any further insult. Kale didn’t notice a small plastic bag with two pills fall from the sack and onto the floor.
Kale was aghast. He stared in horror as what he thought would be steak turned out to be grotworms. A slimy delicacy popular with Warfians. He sat frozen until the last few grotworms slithered from the sack onto his plate. Then he looked at Nigel, who was nervously looking at all the Warfians watching them.
“Them’s the Warfian equivalent to steak. I love ’em. But you better start eatin’ ’em quick or you not gonna be able to eat nothin for weeks.”
Kale looked at the angry Warfians, and then his plate, and then at Nigel. Fortunately, he was starving and that may have saved his life. He grabbed two big handfuls of the worms and shoved them into his mouth, swallowing without chewing. The worms slid down easily, even the worm’s pincers didn’t seem to hurt much. He finished the plate, faked a belch, and smiled, a few worms hanging from his lips.
The Warfians at the next table gave their version of an approving nod and one even gave him a friendly slap on the back almost displacing a vertebra.
Nigel looked relieved they’d averted an ugly and brutal scene.
Kale pulled off a worm that had clamped its jaws onto his lip and popped it into his mouth swallowing quickly.
“Now you’re just showing off. You proud of yerself?” Nigel joked.
“Yes, actually I am, kinda. I didn’t run screaming in terror like my brain told me to do. Despite the texture, the worms didn’t taste that bad, and I didn’t throw up.” He stopped speaking abruptly, a loud ear-ringing belch erupted from deep inside of his bowels.
The Warfians at the next table gave him a cheer with sharp-toothed smiles.
Kale wasn’t hungry any more, but he was ill. “I need to go back to the ship, I don’t feel well.”
Nigel was preoccupied, examining a message on the small green device Quibbler had given him.
“Okay, that’s fine, I got to go meet some business associates. You head back to the ship. I’ll see ya in an hour.” Nigel said.
Chapter 7
Belle had been scanning the logs of the malfunctioning robots at Falcon Station all afternoon and had gotten nowhere. The robot shop on the station was a little larger than hers back on the Cosmos, but still not anyone’s idea of spacious. Life in space is anything but spacious.
The logs showed zero errors. She rechecked calibration on all the bot’s triangulation sensors, and its gyroscopic stabilizers. Everything within normal tolerances. This problem stumped her, and she didn’t like it. The robotics engineers from the Coalition’s main research facility, located at Tark industries, had all the same data and they had no theories either.
None of this changed the fact that the station’s maintenance robots were intermittently failing to replicate the station’s elemental panels in the proper location. The station’s engineers had stopped all maintenance robot replication for the time being since there had been several problems caused by the malfunction. One of the most serious incidents was when a robot replicated a new panel out of spec by nearly three millimeters. The resulting sewage leak injured over a dozen people at a soup shop near the food court. It could have been much worse; fortunately, it had been sewage and not a plasma leak. Most of the injuries were minor and sustained by people who hadn’t noticed the leak and continued eating their lunch. The soup shop suffered no permanent loss of income and has begun offering chocolate sauce.
Belle ran yet another replication test with the station’s maintenance bots. After a hundred replications, she stopped it—again it was perfect, still no errors.
“I can’t find any cause for your problem,” Belle explained to the station’s chief engineer. “It seems something is happening intermittently but, without witnessing it, I can’t determine a cause. Are there any gravity distortions in the area? Perhaps random pulses of energy from some external source?”
“We checked for that,” the engineer replied. “No energy readings on the rad-sensors and none of our gravitational sensors are detecting any kind of anomalies but they are only standard micro-gravimeters. We’ve requested the more sensitive nano-gravimetric units, but they won’t arrive for two weeks. Until then, I’m not willing to rule out gravity waves as the cause for the issue.”
“But there’s no known gravity anomalies in this part of space,” Belle said.
“True, but in my opinion, that is the only other possibility.”
“A gravity wave would have to be pretty substantial to cause the robots to move three millimeters, nano-gravity couldn’t be responsible. I suspect its cause is much simpler. Something we’ve overlooked. May I copy these telemetry files to make an in-depth analysis?” Belle asked.
“Sure thing, sweetheart, any help you can wrap your little head around is appreciated.”
More condescending crap from arrogant male engineers! Belle thought. She said nothing; to complain or respond would lead to more harassment. These guys weren’t Coalition, so a formal complaint would be useless.
Belle transferred the robot data to a level seven quarantine storage device. Seven is the highest level of quarantine used to contain suspect or corrupted data. Belle finished without a word and headed back to the ship.
In the passageway outside the Cosmos’ docking port, she found Kale bent over, retching, supporting himself against the bulkhead.
“Are you okay?” Belle asked.
Kale turned to her, green faced. “I think I ate something that didn’t agree with me. I’ll be okay.” Just then, a stomach cramp put him on the floor.
“Let me help you. I’ll take you to the infirmary, what did you eat anyway?”
“Nigel said it was Warfian steak, turned out to be Grotworms.” Even the word made him queasy now.
“Please tell me you took the recommended enzymes before you ate them. They are required to put the pills in the bag with them.”
“Enzymes?”
“Yeah, the gut bacteria that allows humans to digest Warfian food.”
“I never saw any enzyme pills,” Kale said.
“Uh-oh, without those enzymes your body rejects them. Or more correctly, projects them. It takes about thirty minutes, then you’ll be wishing for death. However, they aren’t fatal, death
is merely a false hope at that point, but you’ll survive. Best get you to sickbay fast. They might still have time to pump your stomach before the eruption. How long ago did you eat them?”
She helped Kale to his feet and supported him as he tried to walk.
“About twenty minutes ago,” Kale said, as his stomach undulated of its own accord. He was dizzy and still having severe spasms and cramping. He sat down on the deck again. Too sick to move.
“Good thing I now carry one of these.” Belle pulled out a medic evac-tag and stuck it to Kale’s chest. She pressed the button and in an instant Kale was in the ship’s med bay. Belle messaged the medical staff with details and proceeded back to her lab.
When Kale appeared in the examination room, the nurse took a moment to read Belle’s message and made a “Tsk-tsk,” sound. Then she announced, “Okay everyone, looks like another victim of Nanaberi’s cooking. Get the pump prepped.”
Working within a limited period, the nurses and medics hurried. If they didn’t get his stomach pumped soon, they’d be scrubbing grotworms off the ceiling. They placed Kale in a rigid chamber to prevent movement. It automatically conformed to his shape, soon he stood encapsulated in the center of the small treatment room. A large probe-like nozzle on the end of a robotic arm moved toward him, targeting his intestinal tract. Then it gave a familiar hum-pop sound and his stomach began to spasm. It took several minutes to get it all, but eventually his lunch had been teleported from his stomach to an undisclosed location. Kale figured it was probably back to the food storage area at the Bloated Roach.
They released him from the chamber and gave him a chalky drink. He choked it down and felt a little better.
“Go back to your room and rest. I suggest resting in the lavatory since the poisonous liquid residue has to pass naturally. The drink should neutralize its effects, mostly,” the nurse said.
Kale went to his tiny room and sat in his bathroom as recommended, good thing too. He dozed for several hours plagued by odd dreams and bouts of intense cramping. After recovering, most of the way, and sleeping until the next morning, he went to the custodian shop to thank Belle and find Nigel.
When he arrived, Belle was working in her lab. Kale entered.
“Excuse me, Tink,” Kale said. “I wanted to thank you for helping me yesterday. Sorry to have bothered you.”
“That’s okay, I was going back to the ship, anyway. You feeling better?”
“Yes, much.”
There was an awkward pause as Kale wondered what to say next. He was never sure of himself around girls. Belle didn’t look up from her task. “Did Nigel ask for me?”
“Nope, haven’t seen him.”
Kale checked the other rooms in the custodial area. He looked inside the break room and found it empty. He turned around and almost ran into Chopi, who was standing directly behind him.
“Oh, sorry, Chopi.”
“It okay, you not hurt Chopi.”
“Have you seen Nigel?”
“Yes, he is very ugly.”
“No, I mean have you seen him recently?”
“He never came back from station. Something bad happened, you think?”
Kale hadn’t thought, but Chopi made a good point. He went to see Idonna in her decorator’s room. She was sitting in her big chair at her display. Samples of carpet, upholstery, and paint colors littered her desk.
“Excuse me Idonna, have you seen Nigel?”
“Yeah, dat man is ugly,” Idonna answered without missing a beat.
“He said he would meet me here. He’s hours past due. I’m getting worried,” Kale said.
“So he’s still on the station?” Idonna asked.
“I don’t know, haven’t seen him since lunch yesterday. After lunch, I got sick and came back to the ship. I was out of it for the last several hours. He had some kind of secret business deal. I’m worried it may have gone badly.”
“Yeah, you pro’ly right. When Nigel’s not being weird, he’s bein’ bad,” Idonna said. “What’s he doing this time?”
“I’m not sure, all I know is Quibbler set him up with some customers he was eager to meet.”
“Dat man Quibbler involved?”
Kale nodded.
“Dat no good at all, we’d better talk to old Quibbler bout dis. Da ship leavin’ in two hours. Dat don't give us much time to save his pretty backside. Come wit’ me boy.”
Kale followed Idonna. They stopped by Tink’s lab on the way out.
“Ay Tink, Kale say da Goat Boy is missing after one of dose shady business deals of his. Can you track his ID tag?”
Belle did a quick computer check. “His chip didn’t respond anywhere on Falcon Station he must have shielded it for his shady deal.”
“Well we go look da old fashion way, den. You coming to help girl?”
“Sure, one sec, let me start this simulation, it can run while we’re gone.”
They left a message for the lieutenant and headed back to the station to search for Nigel.
Back on the station there seemed to be no letup in the activity from the day before. Hundreds of ships and thousands of people could be there any time night or night, since there was no day in deep space.
“So where was he last?” Belle asked.
“We ate in the food court, that’s when I got sick. He had to go to a secret meeting with friends of Quibbler. And I went back to the ship.”
“Where was Quibbler’s junk stand?” Idonna asked. “It moves around so he don’t get caught by the police.”
“It was in a maintenance alcove in a passage on the way to the food court.”
“Oh, I know da place,” Idonna said, and she and Belle took off walking.
Kale tried to keep up with the women. Idonna sliced her way through the crowd like an icebreaker. He found it easiest to stay close behind her and ride in her wake. He had to be careful, if she stopped quickly, he’d get a face full of dreadlocks.
They came to the alcove and the three of them struggled free of the moving stream of people.
Mr. Quibbler was in the process of selling another of his exclusive, rare, and illegal holovid copies to an unsuspecting customer. Upon seeing Idonna, he took the man’s money and pushed him back into the flow of people. The man was swept away, no doubt bewildered, and confused.
As Idonna approached, Quibbler’s whole expression changed. “The legendary beauty herself! Idonna, what a wonderful surprise. And you brought along my new friend Mr. Kale, and the robot tinker girl too.”
“Where is Nigel?” Idonna asked in her no-nonsense tone. “I know you got him mixed up in one dose shady deals. He’s not come back to da ship.”
“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were sweet on him,” Quibbler said. Trying to make a joke to relieve tension.
Instead, he upset Idonna even more. Now she became threatening. “I tought you knew better den to say tings dat get you kill’d mon.” Idonna wasn’t in a mood to be trifled with. “Now, what da deal with Nigel?”
For a moment, you could see Quibbler’s eyes calculating an internal profit-and-loss sheet. He was weighing danger of telling the truth, against the risk of not telling Idonna what she wanted to hear.
Once he had determined the most profitable course, he spoke. “Nigel had a number of squidman orbs and wanted to sell them. So, I set him up with some Lactarians, eager to buy.”
“Dat sounds bad. Is dere anything you not telling us, little man?”
Quibbler shook his head and kept his face in check.
“Lactarians. Aren’t they vegetarians who also drink milk?” Kale asked.
Idonna gave Kale an irritated look.
“I don’t know what you call them, Kale.” Belle explained. “We call them Lactarians since they tempt men to their doom with their tasty cheese dishes. They come from Lactosia a planet group in the Dome Nebula. The cows on their world are the most prolific milk producing bovines in the galaxy.”
“I’ve never heard of them,” Kale said. He wondered why
so many of the galaxy’s dangers were dairy related.
“Mr. Quibbler,” Belle began, “Did you see Nigel after he met with the Lactarians?”
“No Mam.”
“Have you spoken with them?”
“No, they sent me a ready pager. It was to give him instructions when they were ready to meet with him. I assumed he concluded his deal and returned to his ship.”
“Ready pager?” Kale asked.
“Don’t worry ’bout it, mon.” Idonna was tiring of Kale’s constant interruptions.
“It’s a device that gives a message when something’s ready,” Belle explained. “They use them in restaurants. Stop asking all these questions.”
Kale shut up and listened.
Idonna asked Quibbler several more questions, he claimed not to know anything else. They had all the information he was likely to share.
“I’ll go report him missing at security in the main terminal,” Belle said. “Kale, you go look in the last place you saw him and ask around. Idonna you search the docking levels.”
“Okay,” Kale said.
Idonna turned to Quibbler. “If you hear from him tell him to contact his ship.”
“I would be delighted to, my lady,” Quibbler said.
Idonna and Belle entered the stream of moving people and disappeared instantly.
Against all better judgment and common-sense advice, Kale made brief eye contact with Quibbler just before he was about to leave.
“One moment scout,” Mr. Quibbler said.
Too late. Before he realized it, Kale had been drawn into the Quibbler sales pitch.
“Have you ever heard of a Situational Transcoder Device?”
Kale shook his head.
“Now, you seem like the type of young fellow…” the pitch began. It ended with, “...it injects just below the skin on your upper arm. After a few hours, it will begin to protect you from danger. It might even help you find our friend Nigel.” Quibbler pulled out a subdermal insertion device, inserted a chip, and injected it in Kale’s upper arm.