“Mikal,” Xoraya admonished him gently, “you’re smart enough to know that the laws of physics, whether they’re on the books or not, can’t explain everything. If they did, a good portion of what my people do would not be possible.”
Kati recalled how, on Vultaire, Xoraya had taken her on a quick mental trip which had included a time shift. Or two of them, actually, since they had gone slightly into the past to pass on a message, and then had returned to the present. Without doubt they had been breaking the laws of physics then.
“You’re right, Xoraya, of course.” Mikal rubbed his face with his hands. “All right,” he added, and resumed walking, that way encouraging the rest to do the same. “Let’s say that Kati has put her finger on what’s going on. What does it mean? Is it a good thing for us? Or is it something that’s going to jump up and bite us in our butts, after a while?”
“Something at the Inn is protecting us,” said Lank. “Remember Tieri’s words to Mikal this morning: ‘All of you are protected. Every one of you four.’”
“Something, or somebody,” Xoraya agreed.
“I wonder,” Kati mused. “Can the Planetary Spirits gossip? Could the Vultairian Forest Spirit or the Ocean Sister have passed on the word to some other numinous beings that we are worthy of protection? Does this notion make any sense to anyone but me?”
“It makes as much sense as any idea I can come up with,” sighed Mikal. “Which means that no, it doesn’t make much sense. But I’ve got the feeling that we’ve left rationality behind us, like it or not.”
“As long as the whatever is on our side, I’m okay with it,” said Lank.
*****
Kati was not quite certain why, but she decided against broaching the subject of the possible intermittent invisibility with Tieri. Instead, she let Mikal take the lead, and inquire of the receptionist if she could direct them to Makally’s Ship Yards via a route that would take them down less-travelled paths rather than the more commonly used main walkways. Happy to be of service, Tieri pulled out a paper map of the Space Station from under her counter, and spread it in front of them. She used what Kati would have called a marker to draw an X at their present position, about halfway along the walk which Lank had termed “Accommodation Strip”, and then drew a line from there, along the walkway, to what looked like a narrow side alley between two buildings.
“It takes you to the next parallel passage,” she explained. “The other lodgings along this street, you could just use the back exit, but our building, because it is old and not built to modern code, has no back door, so you have to use the alley. Then, just follow that roadway until you reach this particular cross street,”—she drew on the map to indicate the route—“and take it to Makally’s. It’s definitely a quieter walk, and as long as you don’t stop at any establishment between here and there, you’ll be sure to make it to the Ship Yards without being noticed.
“Good luck with your shopping at Makally’s.”
She handed the marked map to Mikal, and smiled encouragingly at them as Mikal thanked her.
“Now how did she know that we’re trying to avoid being noticed?” Lank asked immediately, once they were outside again.
“She may have guessed,” Mikal replied tartly. “I did ask for a less-travelled route.”
“I expected a route made up of more back alleys,” Kati murmured. “What she’s sending us on may not be the main drag, but it’s not really even a side street.”
“This is a Space Station, Kati,” Mikal admonished her. “There may well be no back alleys. The map shows nothing like that.”
“The Star Federation Space Station had alleys, though they were lined with shops,” Xoraya protested. “And there was the mag-level down below. I bet this Station has its equivalent; how else does stuff get transported from one place to another? She could have sent us down there.”
“Do you want to follow her directions?” Mikal asked. “Or do you want us to strike out on our own, and see if we can find this mag-level equivalent, and then find Makally’s from down there?”
“No,” said Kati in a tone that both Mikal and Lank knew to indicate finality. “We’ll follow Tieri’s instructions, and we’ll follow them to the letter. In other words, we go directly to Makally’s, no stops on the way. I bet we won’t see anything of the three brutes, if we do that.”
CHAPTER TWO
“Gunships!” The Monk image inside Kati’s mind was just about salivating.
What had attracted the Granda’s lust were a row of small, sleek, battle grey Cruisers which stretched along the pathway that Kati and her companions were following through Makally’s Yard. They were being led along by Old Man Makally himself, grey and grizzled, but agile and hearty, nevertheless.
“Shit!” Kati muttered to Mikal, beside her. “My Inner Rascal recognized some dangerous toys! He’s going to be a pain in the butt until our business is done!”
Mikal gave the Cruisers a quick glance.
“He’s interested in those things? They’re gnats, and without doubt, have been stripped of arms. A place like this isn’t going to be selling war toys worth having. The Station Authorities would have Makally out of business pretty fast if he stooped to dealing in armed vehicles. They know that the Federation would keep a Torrones ship behind the nearest asteroid, ready to blast real fire on the place if they allowed arms dealers to settle in this close to Federation Space. The big time lunatics make their homes on worlds far enough away from the Star Federation that they’re in the Wilderness, and not the Fringes.”
“Your pacifist boyfriend loves to strip the fun out of life,” The Monk subvocalized grumpily. “The two of you can be utter bores.”
“You don’t appreciate a healthy sex-life, then?” Kati subvocalized back, suppressing a grin.
“Oh don’t get me wrong,” the Granda protested immediately. “I do. But a blast of different sort of fireworks would be welcome, now and then.”
Kati shuddered. She banished The Monk to the recess of her mind into which she habitually stowed the node personality whenever it grew too annoying.
Meanwhile Makally had stopped beside a small, decrepit-looking ship. He was shaking his head at it.
“This is the only vessel I have available in the size you requested,” he said. “You did mean the size most commonly used by Free Traders, didn’t you? There won’t be much room for cargo if you’re all going to be travelling together; if that’s the case, couldn’t I interest you in something slightly larger? I have more stock, and in better repair, in the next size up. We don’t get many in the Free Trader category coming through, since those guys and gals keep their ships, and fix them, and run them to the ground before replacing them with brand new ones.”
From his tone of voice a listener might have got the impression that the Free Traders were doing this especially to irritate an honest merchant of used ships.
“Well, let’s take a look at it, anyway,” Lank suggested. “Inside and out. What kind of fuel does it use? How much fuel does it require? What’s your estimation of the work required to get it space worthy, if it’s not that already? And how much were you planning on asking for it?”
Makally had been addressing his comments to Mikal up until now, but he turned curious eyes towards Lank now.
“Well, those are good questions, indeed, to ask about a used ship,” he conceded, his eyes shifting between Lank and Mikal.
“Lank’s our expert,” Mikal told him with a slight smirk. “He understands the engineering.”
“Well, well, well.” There was new respect in his voice. “That’s a useful skill to have. Can’t say as I have it, or any of my three boys. We have to hire for that, and it does not come cheap, believe me.
“But let’s go inside this babe, and your young expert can decide what to make of it.”
He chose a key chit from a handful on a chain that he pulled out from a copious and full pocket in the front of his coveralls. Kati wondered if the pocket was filled with ship keys; that was po
ssible if all the ships in the yard had their own, separate keys. Unless Makally used some kind of a master key system, and the chain of chits was for show, a sort of a used-ship-dealer trick to inspire confidence in the buyers.
But Lank began by walking around the vessel first. He took his time, and pointed out defects in the outer skin to his companions. Sensory equipment was missing and broken, according to his evaluation.
“I told you that she was in bad shape,” Makally protested at one point during this preliminary look-see, and Kati wondered if he hadn’t hoped to unload a lemon on a group of naifs.
By the time they trooped into the ship, any hopes that Kati might have had for it had mostly eroded. It did look better on the inside than out—at least someone had cleaned up most of the mess the last owners had left in the living quarters. However, she could see that someone, perhaps she herself, would have to take a scrub-brush, soap, and water to the galley before it could be used, should they decide to buy it. Lank gave the crew’s living area only the most cursory glance before making a bee-line for the engine room. Xoraya followed close on his heels, forcing Makally to lag into third position before Mikal and Kati. He gave the Xeonsaur a sharp glance as she slid by him, to trail Lank, with the air of knowing what she was doing.
Kati found herself grinning at Makally’s back. If Lank was a surprise to him, what would he say about Xoraya, if he knew the truth?
“No, no, no, no!”
It was Xoraya’s voice.
“What have they done to the engine?”
It was a wail.
“It’s been modified,” Lank’s voice said. “To accept a cheaper fuel, is my guess.”
“It’s been ruined,” Xoraya was saying sadly, when the other three reached them. “I wouldn’t trust it to take us through a single jump like that, and I doubt that it can be saved even if the alterations are removed. These engines were meant to be powered by amber salt crystals, and someone has converted this to use liquid fuel. That’s sheer idiocy; it’ll be okay for a while, but the inner workings are gradually destroyed, until the jumping capacity is gone. Anyone running the ship had better hope that the final poof happens in normal space, and not during a jump! If the engine does die in mid-jump, the ship and its occupants will not see normal space again!”
“You’re saying the ship should be scrapped?” Old Man Makally was staring at Xoraya. “You two are a couple of weird teenagers!”
He turned to Mikal and Kati.
“They aren’t your kids, that’s for sure,” he said.
“I never claimed that they were,” Mikal responded in a light tone. “But they do know reams about ship engineering, both of them. Handy, that.”
“I guess we cross this ship off our list,” Kati said, turning to go. “We’ll have to see what else you have available, Merchant Makally. We may have to look at somewhat larger ships.”
She led the way back out, wondering to herself if they hadn’t made a mistake in letting Josh leave with the Cruiser. What if Makally’s had nothing suitable for them after all? For some reason, that possibility had not occurred to her; a ship yard that took up a third of a Space Station had seemed to be big enough to have so many vessels that she had expected to be able to pick and choose from among them. The idea that the very size which her group wanted would be in short supply had not occurred to her. Were there other repositories of used ships around, and if there were, how far away were they? Was it possible to reach them by commercial space liners?
Outside the decrepit ship, Makally eyed Lank and Xoraya—especially Xoraya—speculatively. Kati bit her lip to see that; they did not need the Xeonsaur woman blowing her cover. But when the Old Man spoke, his words surprised her:
“Where are you staying?” he asked Mikal.
Mikal raised his eyebrows.
“At The Fiddler’s Green Inn,” he replied.
Old Man Makally nodded. His eyes travelled from face to face, a look of bemusement on his features.
“Four people,” he muttered. “A man and a woman accompanied by two younglings, a boy and a girl. But the girl is not really a girl, at least not as I know girls, and she and the boy both know their way around space ship engines. And they’re staying at a non-existent Inn, or at least one that shows up only once every generation or so, and always to ensure someone’s safety.
“I suppose you’re being chased by somebody?”
“By a trio whom Kati here calls ‘the three brutes’,” Mikal replied without missing a beat. “We believe that they are in the employ of a slaver with whose business we have been interfering.”
“Well, then, I do have a ship for you. The size you want, and in good shape. Powered by those amber salt crystals your girl mentioned, and according to the fellow who checked it out for me when I took possession, with a good supply of the crystals on board. I’m supposed to sell it to you for what I paid for it, plus a fair profit, considering that I’ve been holding on to it for ten standard years. Which is exactly what I will do.”
Mikal and Kati exchanged glances. Mikal drew a breath, even as The Monk scurried back into visibility in Kati’s head.
“I don’t know who’s looking after you and yours, woman, but somebody certainly is,” the Granda subvocalized. “This ship is going to be exactly what you want, count on it.”
“Let’s take a look at it,” Kati said out loud, and Mikal nodded in agreement.
The four of them followed Makally in silence as he led them down a different route to an obscure corner of the Yard. This time they walked by a number of cargo-sized ships in various states of repair and disrepair, some of them under refurbishment by Makally’s sons and workers who were scurrying around them with a variety of equipment. Kati guessed that these were the Yard’s bread and butter, the kind of ships the Borhquans and the Paradisans had bought from Makally, and had found useful and durable. Only, certainly too large and cumbersome for the zipping about the Galaxy that her group would be doing.
The vessel Makally took them to had been cocooned into some packing material, and The Old Man made a call on his com before they reached it. Two of his daughters-in-law arrived forthwith, with satchels, and after looking over the foursome of customers curiously, took out from these some cutting tools.
“You’re sure about this, Old Man?” the younger one asked before starting work.
“They’re staying at The Fiddler’s Green Inn,” he replied gruffly, and the woman nodded.
“All right, then,” she replied, and the work of uncovering the ship began.
Mikal and Kati pitched in, and so did Lank and Xoraya, unwinding the foamy packing material after the two Makally women had had made cuts in it.
“She’s in good shape,” Xoraya commented, once the ship began to emerge from the wrappings. “Not new, of course, but someone’s taken good care of her. Lots of use in her, I bet.”
“Let’s not decide that until we’ve seen the engine room,” Lank objected. “It’s possible for a ship owner to put his funds to wrong uses. If all else is shining, but the engine has been neglected, a ship is no good, unless it can be refitted with a new engine. I learned that on the Marta, which was a cow on the outside, but whose owner had put his money where it mattered, and even had a really knowledgeable person as the engineer.”
“It’s a valuable lesson to learn, young man,” said the older daughter-in-law, “but I do think that you’ll be impressed by the engineering section of this baby. I was around when we took her in with the instructions to keep her here until the right people came looking for it.
“By the way, if you want the ship provisioned, we can do that. It’s easier for you than running around from shop to shop yourselves, and our suppliers are very good.” She grinned. “We can even provide you with coffee, and wine and beer, for a modest extra fee.”
Suddenly things seemed to be falling into place with surprising speed. Lank pronounced himself satisfied with the engines of the small ship, and Xoraya, beside him, nodded approval. Kati checked out the crew
quarters and the galley and pronounced them adequate, if not roomy. The Captain’s cabin was big enough for Mikal and her, as long as they were not fighting, as she told him, and the two other cabins would house Xoraya and Lank in privacy, if not luxury. There was an adequate exercise area; plus a small sitting-dining room open to the galley, a common space-saving feature of small ships. It could also double as an extra sleeping area, should they need to transport more people. But then, the secondary cabins could also be fitted with an additional bunk each, although Kati shook her head at the thought. Lank laughed at her.
“The cabin Rakil and I shared on the Marta was like that,” he told her. “We could barely fit into it at the same time, except when at least one of us was flat on his bunk. And you know what? We managed just fine, and Rakil, as you know, is a pretty big fellow!”
There was adequate storage space for supplies, and some, but not copious amounts of cargo space.
“Free Traders usually deal in small, high-profit items,” Old Man Makally said, as he pointed out the cargo lockers. “And they usually travel alone or in pairs, so the secondary cabins can be used for storage as well. That’s not an option for you people, however. So if you’re out to sell stuff, make sure that what you peddle is small and valuable.”
His words sent shivers down Kati’s back. Mikal noticed her shudder, and asked what was wrong.
“I was reminded of the mind-tangler,” she groaned. “It would certainly fill the requirements, if we were unethical enough to become drug-runners.”
Mikal made a face.
“If that’s your ambition,” he said, “you’ll have to find yourself some other company to keep. I have too much experience of that horror, to want to have anything more to do with it.”
“Believe me, it’s not my ambition,” Kati answered. “Although the thought did cross my mind that pretending to be running tangle-juice might be just the way to lure Gorsh into a trap.”
“You’re not chasing that creature, Gorsh, are you,” Darla, the elder Makally daughter-in-law said with a shake of her head. “He’s a many-headed snake.”
Showdown on the Planet of the Slavers Page 4