by Paul Barrett
“I can’t say that I am. I’m sure it’s something quite severe, and you may bring the full wrath of the law on any time.”
Laura, with a glance at Hawk, said. “Well, are you aware of the commission attached to a Research Survey?”
“Commission?” the commander asked. His eyebrows lifted slightly, and Hawk suppressed a groan. The conversation had just turned expensive.
“Yes,” Laura continued, “in consideration for the inconvenience to a station Commander during our surveys, the University offers a commission of―” she looked at Gerard, “―what is it these days, Doctor Pretari?”
“Somewhere in the area of five thousand, I believe,” Gerard answered without hesitation. Hawk wanted to kick his pale-skinned friend. He didn’t mind spending money; he hated giving it away.
The commander reconsidered the documents.
“That commission is, of course, in advance,” Laura said.
The commander returned his attention to the group. “What about these two?” he indicated Ashron and Wolf. Wolf had a large backpack in one hand.
“Actually, I think the commission was closer to six thousand,” Laura offered.
“Very well,” the commander said after a moment of hesitation. “And the child?”
Surprised, Hawk saw Trey standing with the crew, almost hidden behind Wolf.
“The child is my valet,” Laura said before Hawk could say anything.
“I don’t think the planet is safe for a child,” the Commander said. For once Hawk heard something other than imperiousness in the man’s tone. It sounded almost like concern.
“It is my responsibility,” she said, flashing Hawk a warning glare when she saw him about to speak. Hawk kept quiet, but someone would have to offer him a damn good explanation for Trey’s presence when they got a moment alone.
“Yes, he is,” the Commander told Laura, his brief moment of openness gone. “May I see your papers as well, for the record?” he asked Gerard.
Gerard handed over the papers with his left hand, keeping his cybernetic hand in his pocket, his arm hidden beneath a long sleeve shirt.
The commander gave Gerard’s documents a cursory inspection before handing them back. He kept his hand out and Hawk, taking the hint, handed over his credit stick. The commander slid it into a slot on his desk and deducted the appropriate amount. He handed a printed receipt to Hawk. “For the University’s records,” he said.
He pushed a button on the desk. “Arlan, please get the shuttle ready. Destination?”
“The city-state of Tralsac will do for a start,” Hawk said.
The corner of Motash’s mouth turned up in what may have been an evil smile. “The city-state of Tralsac.”
“Yes, Commander,” a disembodied voice answered.
“What do you have in the pack?”
“Trade goods,” Laura said. “Do you want to inspect it?”
“That won’t be necessary,” Commander Motash said as he walked from behind his desk. “Follow me.” He marched through the open doorway. They followed him down a short, white hallway. The commander paused before two doors, one on either side. “You will find proper clothing in here, although the child and the large one may be difficult to outfit. Men on the left, women on the right. I will wait here.”
Hawk opened the door and found a surprisingly large room filled with various articles of clothing. Unlike the rest of the outpost, this room appeared unkempt and smelled musty and disused. He stepped inside. The others followed. When the door closed, he turned on Trey. “What do you think you’re doing?” he asked in a low voice.
“I’m going with you,” Trey said, not moving. “I didn’t want to be left alone.”
“You wouldn’t be alone. Ship would be with you.”
“It’s not the same,” Trey protested. “Laura said I could come.”
“Well, Laura and I are going to have a talk when this is done. This is a dangerous situation and no place for a child.”
“I’m not a child,” Trey said through clenched teeth, surprising Hawk by balling his fists and taking a step forward. “I haven’t been a child since…”
He stopped and stared at Hawk, his pale face a strange mixture of anger and sadness. “I can take care of myself.” He walked away and began rummaging through the clothing.
“Let him go,” Gerard placed an arm on Hawk’s shoulder and guided him toward clothes on the opposite side of the room. “He has a valid point. He did survive on Kel for months without our help.”
“That’s not my point,” Hawk looked at the dusty clothing hanging on thin wire racks. “He needs to ask my permission. I run an open ship, but I’m still the captain. He needs to learn that. Laura should know better, too.”
“Speaking in defense for both of them, Trey was rather adamant, much like when he refused to go into ripsleep. Laura is strong, but in his way, Trey is even stronger. He has willpower that will serve him well if it’s properly channeled. I think you can help by treating him less like a child and more like a member of the crew.”
“But he is a child,” Hawk insisted.
“Physically, yes. Mentally and emotionally? I think he’s teetering. You’ll get a better response if you approach him as an adult. Think about how Tahorton taught you.” Gerard moved away and began pulling clothes from the rack.
Hawk considered Gerard’s words as he studied the clothing, everything a muted shade of yellow, brown, or red. He suspected all the clothes were at least a decade old.
Maybe Gerard’s right. Hawk pulled a brown linen tunic and rust-colored pants off the rack. Trey was always seeking ways to show he could be part of the crew. The few chores they gave him he did with no complaint. In many ways, the young boy was the perfect crew member, far more mature than most twelve-year-olds. Only certain things set him off, and most of them could be traced back to Kel. His fear of being alone was apparent. His reluctance to enter ripsleep had been discovered and overcome. There were other, more minor things Hawk could remember. In all of them, someone else had solved the problem, while Hawk had only reacted—and poorly—to Trey’s seeming childishness.
As he put on his new clothing and tried to shake off the smell of dust and mildew, it occurred to Hawk that he and Trey were much alike in certain ways. Both stubborn, both used to things their way, and both with a fear of being left by the people who loved them.
Hawk grabbed a pair of brown boots that were his size and slipped them on. Finished, he turned and saw the others already dressed: Ashron in red, Gerard in yellow, and Trey in an overlarge brown shirt, rust-colored pants that he had cinched to his waist with a strip of cloth, and dusty brown boots.
He picked the same colors I did, Hawk thought. Whether he did it before or after he saw Hawk’s choices didn’t matter. Hawk experienced a sudden closeness with this orphan child he had never felt before, despite their similar situations. He smiled, and Trey offered a tentative grin in return.
Wolf, finding nothing that fit, had fashioned a toga from several yellow shirts and wore it draped over his massive grayish body. Hawk broke out into a laugh and said, “You look like a mutant canary.”
“What’s a canary?” Wolf asked.
“Never mind,” Hawk walked over to a woefully understocked rack of weaponry and said, “You have a choice: broadsword or scimitar.”
Hawk passed out the weapons, giving a scimitar to Ashron and a broadsword to himself. Wolf took a broadsword, which looked like a metal toothpick in his large hand. Gerard accepted a dagger as Hawk handed them to everyone, even Trey.
When he finished, Hawk said, “Let’s get out there and see if Laura looks as stupid as we do.”
Ashron opened the door. They stepped out to find Laura waiting for them. She wore dark blue pantaloons with fluted leggings and a cream colored shirt with bloused sleeves. A slender rapier in a black sheath hung from her side. Hawk thought the outfit suited her, unlike the rest of the crew, himself included; they reminded him of rejects from an acting troupe.
&n
bsp; The commander stood nearby. “Is everything okay?” he asked, his tone full of derision. Hawk suspected he had overheard some of their dressing room conversation.
“Fine,” Hawk answered, eager to get out of the station and away from this petty bureaucrat. “We’re ready to go.”
“Follow me.”
They walked another twenty meters around the hub until they reached the round hangar airlock on the station’s outer side. The door opened as they approached and the Commander stopped at the portal. “Arlan will take you planetside. Exactly how long will you be on planet?” he asked Laura.
“No more than a week,” she answered.
“Very well,” he said, then turned and walked away.
“‘Rudeness is the weak man’s imitation of strength’” Gerard quipped as they headed for the shuttle.
“All civil servants are not like that, Trey,” Laura told the boy.
They walked across the hanger and into the open shuttle, which, like the rest of the station, was exceptionally well-maintained and clean.
“Does the phrase anal retentive strike a chord with anybody here?” Ashron asked.
“Commander Motash can be a bit of an ass sometimes,” a voice said from the cockpit doorway. All heads turned to see a short, slender man with thick, black hair and a bushy mustache leaning against the doorframe. Like Waren, his Protection Service uniform marked him as ex-Marine. “But he’s a good officer and a decent person once you know him.”
“That’s what they said about Atilla the Hun,” Laura murmured.
The man frowned, looked prepared to say something in defense, and then seemed to reconsider. The ends of his mustache curled up as he grinned. “I’m Arlan. If all of you will strap in, I’ll launch us. The trip will take about twenty-five minutes.”
“Why so long?” Hawk asked. A standard shuttle trip from station to planet lasted ten to fifteen minutes.
“The cloaking generator is an older model; it takes ten minutes for the shielding charge and noise mufflers to disperse evenly.” He turned, stopped, and turned back to the group. “Don’t think too badly of the commander. He has things to consider you wouldn’t understand.” He walked into the cockpit and the door shut behind him.
“Well, that was cryptic,” Ashron said as the others stared at the closed door.
“Why do we need a cloaking generator?” Trey asked.
Hawk started to answer. Gerard stopped him. “Why do you think we need a cloaking generator?”
“Is this a psychological test?” Ashron asked, smiling. “Can we play word association next?”
“No,” Gerard offered Ashron an annoyed glance. “This is an exercise in reasoning ability.”
He turned back to Trey. “A good manipulator must be like a detective. If you can learn to draw conclusions from the known facts and order your thoughts accordingly, it will make learning manipulation much easier.”
As the others took seats, Trey’s eyes narrowed in concentration as he thought things through. The shuttle was designed to hold twenty passengers, so they had plenty of room. Although Wolf had to content himself with sitting on one of the benches along the wall since the standard seats were too small. He used two separate belts to strap in.
As the low whine of the engines reverberated through the cabin, Trey sat down between Laura and Hawk and his face lit up. “We’re going to a low-tech planet, so they have to hide any sign of technology,” he said triumphantly. “The cloak will cover us up, and the noise mufflers will disperse the sound so if anybody is nearby it will sound like distant thunder.”
“Very good,” Gerard said. “From now on, before you ask a question like that, see if you can come up with your own answer.”
“Kind of like when I ask Laura for help with my homework and she tells me to work it out for myself.”
“Very much like that,” Gerard said, smiling.
The engine grew louder, vibrating the cabin and making conversation difficult. Trey closed his eyes, swallowed, and grabbed Hawk and Laura’s hand. Hawk knew once they were in open space Trey would be fine, but takeoff and docking always made the boy nervous. Hawk didn’t know if this was a symptom of his experiences on Kel or merely the same reaction many people had to shuttle flight.
Hawk regarded the boy, dressed like a miniature version of himself, with his head nestled against Laura’s shoulder, and realized they had become the boy’s surrogate parents. Trey relied on them. It was a startling revelation that made Hawk feel, surprisingly, good. He sat back and grinned, wondering if this was the feeling Tahorton had gotten from all his adopted children over the years.
With a slight lurch, the craft pulled away from the station’s docking ring. After a brief acceleration, the engine noise dropped to a moderate level, allowing conversation to resume.
“Gerard, would you clear us?” Hawk asked as Trey released his hand.
Gerard nodded, spoke an equation, and moved his cybernetic arm around the cabin. “We’re sealed.”
Free to speak without fear of being overheard, Hawk said, “I’m going to have to talk to Ship. Her forging skills are slipping,” Hawk told them.
“No, they’re not,” Gerard assured him. “The commander had no clue if our papers were forged or authentic.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Number one, Ship’s forgeries are not perfect, but the flaws are so minute that just the naked eye would reveal nothing. Our commander did not have a cybernetic eye so that rules out any visual enhancement. He made a pretense of studying them for a long time in the hopes of making us nervous. Number two, he had a credit slot on his desk. And even though the administrative setup of Protection Outposts is not my specialty, I’m positive desk-mounted credit slots are not standard issue.”
“What about accepting research commissions?” Ashron asked. “I know those exist.”
“True,” Gerard agreed. “They’re handled through the Sector Command. The outposts never see the money.”
“So that was a bribe?” Trey asked.
“A rather tactless word but, yes,” Gerard told him.
“You mean we could have gotten away without paying him?” Hawk asked.
“Doubtful,” Gerard said. “He would have found one way or another to keep us there until some money changed hands. Be thankful. We got off paying only six thousand.”
“Only,” Hawk said.
They spent the rest of the trip to the planet discussing trivial matters. As Trey went back to his finger exercises, Hawk considered reprimanding him for his belligerent behavior in the dressing room, then decided to let it slide for the moment. Even though he better understood the boy’s behavior, he could not condone it. He would deal with it back on Ship, away from the others, showing Trey the same courtesy he would any other crew member.
“Doesn’t that hurt?” Ashron asked, watching Trey.
“It did for the first couple of days, but my tendons have stretched out, so it’s not a problem now.”
Arlan’s voice came over the shuttle’s intercom. “We’re about to hit the atmosphere; there may be a little chop.”
As the shuttle began vibrating, Trey’s breathing suddenly became ragged. “Why is the air so thick?”
“How do you mean, thick?” Gerard asked Trey.
“My head feels stuffy and my chest hurts. Everything is tingling.” Trey shook his head as if trying to clear it. He suddenly looked startled. He glanced around and, noticing everyone staring at him, blushed as he placed his hands over his crotch.
Hawk suppressed a smile and thought about telling Trey that none of them could see anything in the loose clothing he wore. He decided that would only embarrass the boy further.
“What’s happening to him?” Ashron asked.
“He’s sensing aether,” Gerard said.
“Does it always feel like this?” Trey asked, his voice hoarse, as if he had a cold. “It’s getting worse.” He laid his head back against the shuttle.
“Ripspace is thin here,” Gerard said
. Hawk sensed that wasn’t the full reason for Trey’s reaction. “The planet is saturated in aether. That explains why it’s restricted.”
“I’m glad that explains it for you,” Ashron said. “I don’t have a clue.”
“Do you know what the Trans-Federation is?”
“Sure.” Ashron offered his pointy-tooth smile. “It’s an evil coven of witches and warlocks.”
Gerard sighed. “It’s an offshoot of the Planetary Council in charge of laws and regulations concerning Trans-dimensional manipulation. They can place aether-heavy planets on a tech-restricted list so no outside technology can be introduced.”
“Why?”
“With a few exceptions, such as my arm and the ripspace drive, aether and technology mixed can create unpredictable results,” Gerard said. “The more aether, the more volatile—and potentially dangerous—the consequences. There is also a balance problem. Too much technology too fast will destroy the aether and could have its repercussions. Therefore, to keep things simple, the Council puts such planets off limits and allows them to advance at their own pace. As they develop, the aether will recede, or may remain such a strong presence that the planet never develops past a certain level.”
“When you say dangerous, what do you mean?” Ashron asked.
“The most extreme result would be a tear in the divide between normal space and aetheric space, which would allow things into our space that you don’t want to meet.”
“No, you don’t,” Trey said with a chill in his raspy voice.
“What about this shuttle?” Ashron asked.
“It’s a matter of scale and time,” Gerard explained. “If a colony ship landed here loaded with technology and settled in, there would be problems. A shuttle landing for a few minutes doesn’t create enough disturbance to be significant. The truth is no one knows where the boundary is, so that’s why these planets get a blanket restriction. That does lead to a concern, though. The commander ignored our backpack after our ‘donation.’ We could have any manner of contraband in it. If he’s done this with others, it could eventually lead to problems. We may need to report him and have him watched.”