Using the astronomical instruments aboard the Vishnu, he was able to locate and chart a course for the nearest star. Although this solar system was uninhabited, it did hold a gas giant that allowed the Vishnu to replenish its protium supply by skimming the stuff from its atmosphere with a scoop. This increased the number of jumps the ship could make, and, by voyaging to other nearby systems, and so on, it had eventually reached Halo some two months after it had departed Perga’s system, where the prison planet Purgatory lay.
Leaving Pal the robot in charge of the ship, three of the four sentient beings that comprised the crew of the Vishnu disembarked into Halo’s dock; mining operations were clustered around a large, stable asteroid that did not rotate much, unlike most in the field; stabilizers helped keep it in place. They arrived via the Vimana, the Vishnu’s transport, which was considerably more than a passenger shuttle; the front half of the lower deck was a cargo hold, used to ferry materials and supplies onto the Vishnu while it was in orbit above Earth, waiting to begin its maiden voyage fourteen hundred years earlier, a voyage that had sent it off course into the Borderlands.
Indri Mindsinger, a priest of the Delph race, which was descended from cetaceans, was best qualified to speak for the trio of escaped convicts, as he was intelligent and outgoing – and psychic, like all of his race. The Mindsingers were the most skilled at this, having been bred for thousands of years for this ability.
He was accompanied by the rest of the crew, Noomi Bloodgood, a female member of the chimera-species Tatars, who were animalistic born fighters, and Joseph P. Tull, a human crewman who had been found aboard the derelict Vishnu and revived from cold sleep. The Earthman was the only one of the bunch who was not a wanted criminal in the Imperium. Rastheln’iq, a plant man from the planet Viridium who was best known as the renegade scientist “Wormwood”, stayed behind to continue his work on the ship’s main computer. He had jury-rigged a repair to the malfunctioning system that had thrown the Vishnu into deep space to be lost for fourteen hundred years.
Halo lay on the edge of Imperium space in a ward – a cluster of stars with legal affiliation, usually based on shared economic, spiritual or military goals – of the Xuan Wu (“Black Tortoise”) Marches. This troublesome stretch of space lay between the Borderlands and Earth, and was largely underdeveloped due to the proximity of enemy territory – the Layeb Instrumentality.
“We have goods to trade,” Indri explained to the harbormaster, a bulky male of a ruddy-skinned race known as Urhu-qorts. He had a long snout and short, broad horns that curved back over his ears.
“You’re traders?” enquired the goat-like harbormaster, tugging at his beard as he studied the three visitors to Halo.
“Not by vocation,” admitted Indri, eager to avoid trouble. “We’ve just come from a salvage job. We have souvenirs … antiques.” He referred to the various personal items of the Vishnu’s former crew.
“You’re not going to find much of a market around here for that type of thing.”
“Also, plenty of refined metal,” Indri added quickly.
“That’s another story,” said the harbormaster. “This is a cannebec mining operation, not an ore mine, so we can use all the metal we can get our hands on for repairing equipment. A lot quicker and cheaper than freighting it in or mining it ourselves. Be no point to it, anyway. We don’t have a smelting facility.”
Cannebec was a spice valued throughout known space. It was not precisely rare, but uncommon enough that a man could make a small fortune with a few years of labor. There must be a lot of it here to support such a large operation, the Delphian priest reflected.
“What are you looking for … just of out of curiosity?”
“Food, parts, money … even cannebec.”
“We don’t sell cannebec,” warned the harbormaster. “We’d be undercutting ourselves if we did that.”
“You don’t think anyone would trade with it?” Indri thought if they could get even a small portion of cannebec, they could sell it for a tidy profit at some other world.
“I don’t think – I know it. We’re a co-op. We all work together and we share in the profits. It’s against our laws to sell cannebec on an individual basis,” explained the goat-like being.
“I understand. We can be satisfied with the other things I mentioned.”
“Just so long as you understand the rules,” said the harbormaster. “I’m the law around here. Welcome to Halo.”
Rastheln’iq had appropriated a cluster of rooms in the aft of deck 3 next to sickbay as his own, which included dual laboratories there. Since none of the others were scientists like the Vir, no one had objected, taking other quarters on the same floor. There were plenty of these on deck 4, as well as others. There seemed to be an unspoken cause for the four to stay close together. If any realized this, they did not give voice to their opinion.
One of the pair the plant man had turned into a medical lab, the other electronics, in which he was more of a dilettante than an expert. Near his quarters he had plans to cultivate a garden, which would serve both his physical and spiritual needs.
The Viridian scientist was currently laboring in one of the other rooms he’d claimed, quarters he used for computer work, since he did not need to physically be at the main computer on the uppermost deck of the Vishnu to rewrite its programming. His job now was to overwrite the vessel’s faulty operating system with the fully functional and vastly superior system of the prison shuttle on which the three non-humans had escaped their fate on Purgatory, a top-secret penal colony. This would free the shuttle for its intended use; while the Vishnu’s computer was slaved to the shuttle’s, the small ship was stuck in the hangar bay, unavailable for flight.
Rastheln’iq had to take care not to alter or disturb the programs that actually ran the ship. It was a delicate and time consuming job, for some things, once done, could not be undone. Expecting his crewmates to keep themselves occupied for a few days bargaining for whatever they could get, it seemed prudent to do the computer work while he had the opportunity. This arrangement had the added attraction of leaving him alone to do his work.
“Alfred,” Rastheln’iq said aloud, “increase the temperature in this room by two degrees.”
“Of course, sir,” replied the Vishnu’s interface in cultured tones. Unlike Pal, the vessel’s robot that serviced ship operating systems, Alfred was an Artificial Intelligence installed for the purpose of aiding the human crew in minor tasks. He could appear as a hologram, though normally responded only as a voice. He was essentially a personal assistant, and was programmed to be respectful and helpful. He monitored various systems on the ship, but did nothing without being told by one of the crew. Pal, on the other hand, was an active participant in the running of the ship, responding to alerts from Alfred, as well as commands by crewmen. Without him, a crew of four could not hope to operate such a large ship. He – as Tully insisted Pal was – was programmed to interact with the crew, not merely advise it as Alfred was. Thus, his personality was outgoing, to an uncomfortable degree for some.
Rastheln’iq shed his clothing, which was the uniform of the old Republic of Earth navy, a dark blue tunic and trousers with an undershirt that the plant man had not adopted. He disliked clothes, and avoided confining garb whenever possible.
Thus freed, he went back to work.
Indri Mindsinger, Noomi Bloodgood and Tully did not have much luck with their enterprise, managing only to unload the equivalent of trinkets on Halo miners. They had gone into a saloon named Agrittii’s to hawk their wares. This was on one of the upper levels; the mining town was multi-leveled, following the natural passages of the asteroid, which had been sealed to keep in air. This was mechanically recycled to keep it fresh, though such air always had a medicinal odor to it. The Tatar girl, with her hyper-keen sense of smell, scrunched up her nose at it as the trio had made their way through the main concourse of the port in search of a tavern until they’d found Agrittii’s, and gone in.
Luxuries
were hard to come by in remote a place as this, but the escapees did not have much that was unused, having raided the limited ship’s stores, and did not get much for what they had. Still, it would pay for a few days’ stay at Halo, the food and drink of which were superior to the rations aboard the Vishnu, and they had real entertainment. Tully had seen all of the 3V films the Earth ship had to offer, and he was not much of a reader, not having tapped its enormous library. Rastheln’iq, on the other hand, found human fiction fascinating. It was difficult to discern when he was being sarcastic, and Tully wasn’t sure if he actually enjoyed the novels in the spirit in which they were written, or found them to be silly fairy tales. Not that he honestly cared. The Earthman’s nature was that he did not give much thought to anything that did not affect him directly.
He did, however, feel a small swell of pride that humans had made it this far out into the Milky Way – they were more than three hundred light years from Earth, based on what Indri had learned from the constable about Halo’s location. In his day, mankind dreamed of making it to Alpha Centauri, the star nearest Earth at just over four lightyears, in less than a lifetime.
“I can’t say I’m surprised that we should have to deal with the governing body of Halo,” Indri said without rancor. “The best customer for our scrap metal will be the central authority.” This was a civilian board composed of elected officials.
Indri’s gaze fell upon Noomi, whose attention was plainly elsewhere. Her small, pointed ears had swiveled in the same direction – toward a table a few yards away. The Delph said nothing for the moment, studying the girl.
Finally, she noticed she was being observed by her companions and explained, “Something’s been happening to miners recently.”
“What do you mean, ‘something’?” asked Tully suddenly. He didn’t like danger of any kind.
“They’ve been disappearing,” Noomi elaborated.
“What do you mean, disappearing?” the Earthman pressed. “Where could they disappear to? This ain’t a planet where they could get lost. This is asteroid mining. The men live and work inside asteroids. We had this even back in my time. They aren’t just drifting off into space by accident.”
“I’m just repeating what I heard. The workers are getting afraid to go into the mines. There’s talk of shutting down the whole operation.”
“Puzzling,” Indri said, agreeing with Tully. “But it has no bearing on our plans. Let us make an appointment to sell our scrap metal.”
“I hope it has no bearing on our plans,” grumbled Tully as the trio got up and left Agrittii’s. “I’ve already lost too much of my life to go disappearing.”
With the meager amount of cash – local scrip for use only in company stores in Halo – Indri Mindsinger had collected for the personal items of the dead crew of the Vishnu, things like combs and cosmetic make-up and soap and books and such, he decided to buy a few necessities. He did not mention this to the others, for he did not feel it necessary; what he had in mind would probably not occur to the others until it was too late.
Not finding what he was looking for on the main concourse, which was called Mainway, the Delph headed off into one of the side concourses, neither of which were as wide as Mainway, and their shops were neither so large nor as well kept as those on the bigger concourse. The specialty shops lay on these two side streets.
These lay on either side of the city square, which was neither a square nor served a city proper. The fourth side of the square was home to the co-op administration building of Halo. Towering over the place, this contained both the offices of the government and the mining company, for these were one and the same, in effect.
Indri soon found what he was looking for – an apothecary – about midway along the side concourse. Apartments sat above the street front stores in a honeycomb complex that used every cubic yard of space in the natural caverns of the asteroid and then some. These rose to the roof, carved into the rock face.
“Good afternoon, sentient,” greeted the druggist, whose eyes sat at the end of stalks like blossoms on flowering plants. There were four of these, in two sets of two, each pair sprouting from a temple of the individual’s head. “My name’s Tytod. What can I do for you, friend?”
The Delphian priest rattled off a list of things – a painkiller; an antiseptic, a speed healer; and others. Routine medications that belonged in any standard medi-kit. Indri was no doctor, but these were common items. All the medication in the Vishnu’s sickbay, in addition to being rather primitive, had spoiled fourteen centuries earlier. It was imperative that they had such supplies on board.
His work done, he went to meet his two compatriots for their meeting with the co-op materiel committee.
After their meeting with Halo’s committee, the three returned to the Vishnu, for they had yet to be paid, and there was no good reason to waste money on accommodations below. A deal had been struck, and, as soon as it could be done, the Vimana was to be loaded with all the scrap metal they had managed to salvage and delivered to the materiel office at Halo City. They would receive the equivalent of 1200 stellars, which was the currency of the Imperium. Since the Borderlands was not part of the Imperium, it was a hit-or-miss proposition where it would be accepted, so Halo paid in mikorn crystals, which were used in modern control devices. They were natural data storage, needing very little work to make them usable in computers. While 1200 stellars was not a lot, the crystals might have more value elsewhere. They might also possess less.
With the Spartan existence they had been living for weeks now, not to mention the three aliens’ time in captivity, Indri, who had negotiated the deal, gave each crewmember a single crystal for personal use, putting the rest away for ship operations and repairs. He took Rastheln’iq’s to him.
The door to each suite of quarters was marked with green, yellow and red lights. According to ancient Earth custom, Tully had explained, green meant the door was unlocked and every visitor was welcome. Yellow meant that visitors were welcome provisionally, and the occupant required knowledge of who was at their door. Red meant the occupant was not to be disturbed unless it was an emergency. The four members of the Vishnu’s crew adopted this convention.
The light at Rastheln’iq’s door was now yellow, and the Delph priest announced himself upon seeing this. After a moment, the door slid open, revealing the plant man, naked, at a desk. Indri had never seen the Vir without clothes before, and found him very plant-like. Clothing gave him a man-like appearance that was not wholly justified by what lay beneath. He was green all over, though of a multitude of hues, from bright chartreuse to dull olive, with what resembled muscles in his limbs, long and thin. These were slightly striated. He possessed no visible sex organs.
For the first time, Indri fully realized that the Vir were not “plant men”, but plants in the general shape and form of the majority of sentient beings of the Orion Spur – upright, four limbed, bipedal with lateral symmetry. The reason for this uniformity had been debated for centuries, with no satisfactory explanation ever given. It simply was. All that was agreed upon was that evolution did not solely produce it, did not favor the physical model.
It was only when he got over the surprise of seeing Rastheln’iq naked that the Delph noticed the elevated temperature, which was a few degrees above standard. His own race preferred cool, moist climates, and his own quarters were kept a few degrees below standard, which was not chilly nor uncomfortable to most species.
“I have sold the scrap metal,” Indri announced. “Twelve hundred stellars’ worth of mikorn crystals.”
“A reasonable sum, I think,” said the plant man half-heartedly. His attention was focused on his work, although he could carry on two independent actions with his mind, as his brain was less centralized than that of mammals.
“I am putting most of it aside for future expenses,” Indri explained. “Each of us will have one crystal for our personal comforts.”
“Very good,” Rastheln’iq murmured in a pleasant tone. “A cryst
al will improve the performance of the Vishnu’s computer.”
When the Vir fell silent, Indri Mindsinger laid the mikorn crystal on a table and departed.
That evening found Tully at Yodin House, a gaming establishment in the lower level of a smaller concourse of the city that had no name other than Halo. Everything was Halo – the system, the asteroid belt, the mining operation and the settlement. The city wasn’t even officially known as Halo City, but residents had to call it something to differentiate it from the mining operation as a whole.
Tully took Noomi with him, just in case. He was still ignorant enough of modern ways that some would try to take advantage of him. He’d already been overcharged for a drink while the Tatar girl’s back was turned – while he could passably speak Lingua Galactica, he could not read it so was ignorant of what signs said. She quickly rectified the situation, demanding a partial refund, then let everyone know that she was watching how Tully was treated.
The Earthman claimed to be an excellent gambler, and intended to parlay his single crystal into a small fortune, as small fortunes went in this section of space. If he could quadruple his stake, he’d be happy.
Noomi was skeptical but was interested to see what Tully could do. And, after all, it was his money.
His crystal, fitting into the palm of his hand, was small, about the size of half a finger, but worth 200 stellars on Halo. Since there was not much use for them here, Tully thought he could get more for it elsewhere – and even more if he acquired more before the Vishnu moved on. Needing a frame of reference, he’d learned that the lowest paid officer earned a thousand stellars a month in the Imperium navy. Private ships paid better or worse, depending on a number of factors, so the thought of making a month’s pay for a few hours’ work appealed to Tully.
He was happy to find cards still in use.
Tully watched for the better part of an hour, studying the mechanics of the game. It was similar to gin rummy, where you had to get sets of matching numbers or sequential numbers in a suit, but rather than holding these, you played them, setting them on the table. Other players could discard onto your exposed cards, but they could not dispose of their final card this way. There were numerous other details to be learned but Tully thought he could do this as he played. He was wrong: By midnight, he had lost his stake.
Four on the Run Page 6