Of course, most ships came equipped with a scoop that could collect raw protium from space but that was a good way to ruin your catalytic system. It was strictly an emergency only sort of thing. Skimming off gas giants was better, but still inefficient. Processed protium was the best, and therefore costly wherever it was in short supply, such as at the boundary of the Borderlands in this particular region.
One of the things the crew of the Vishnu had acquired at the cannebec mining station Halo was an astrogation map, which not only included the standard data of the Imperium’s cartographers, but also the stars and their planets in this area of the Borderlands, a section of space known as the Xuan Wu (“Black Tortoise”) Marches. Like most marches, it was a troublesome area, home to pirates, slavers, smugglers and the like, even before the neutral Borderlands had been created by interstellar treaty. The term “march” as a border territory had given rise to the title “marquis” in medieval times on Earth as the ward of such places, as “counts” ruled over “counties” and “sheriffs” presided over “shires”.
The map had led the escapees to Commerce. It had been a circuitous voyage because of the primitive Overdrive in the Vishnu, requiring three jumps. That was the first thing they wanted to fix – upgrading the Overdrive as much as they could, for its small range severely limited their ability to move about the worlds of the Borderlands. It restricted them to a relatively small region of space, for they had to worry about being stranded without protium. The unrefined stuff was used up quickly, for there was less of it per volume due to its impurity. Much of the ship’s mechanicals needed upgrading, but the Overdrive took priority, since it was clear they could not afford everything that was necessary.
“One of our priorities should be an improved catalytic system,” Rastheln’iq had said when the group met after acquiring the star map. “This improvement will allow us to avoid re-fueling stations.” Everyone inferred his meaning: There was less chance of them being recognized the fewer places they showed their faces. This wasn’t much of a concern for Tully, for anyone who could recognize him had been dead for thirteen hundred years. However, if his crewmates were recognized and arrested, doubtless he would go with them as an accomplice to their escape. His story was too fantastic to be believed – he had survived fourteen centuries in cold sleep aboard a derelict.
The Earthman had been giving his situation some thought, for if there was one thing Tully was, it was a survivor. It was no accident that he was the sole survivor of the Vishnu’s crew of one hundred twenty.
“The Overdrive must be our priority, Wormwood,” insisted Indri Mindsinger, who had taken charge of such meetings. He was the exception to the rule in his race that was descended from herd animals – a natural leader.
“I do not disagree,” replied Rastheln’iq, who was also known as Wormwood, a name given to him as a result of various medical crimes against sentient races. His race lacking emotions, he did not mind the epithet and accepted its use by his fellow escapees. “We will also need to upgrade software for a superior Overdrive system as well. To avoid the lurching you all find so unpleasant.”
“You don’t?” inquired Tully, who was still in the process of learning the quirks of his shipmates. He had made remarkable progress in learning the tongue of the Imperium but comprehending alien psychology still stumped him sometimes.
“I do, but I accept it,” the plant man said stoically. His species did not possess the emotions of the animal races of known space.
“If we’re going to be stuck on this ship for a while,” interjected Noomi Bloodgood, “then we need a few comforts like food and clothing.”
“No argument there,” put in Tully, a short, blocky man of about thirty years of age with dark, unruly hair. “Some liquor would help, too. We’ve about used up the ship’s stores.”
“The cost of such provisions will be inconsequential compared to upgrading engine components,” pointed out Rastheln’iq. “I see no problem in stocking our larders well, as long as we do not waste money.”
“I’m glad we all agree on that,” Indri said sincerely. The Delphite race did not like conflict, though they would fight if need be. The priest was an example of that. “It would also be a wise investment to purchase some shielding. The Vishnu’s is ridiculously inadequate.” This came as no surprise, considering the ship’s age. Armaments had changed and improved enormously over the intervening centuries since the Vishnu’s construction.
“This Commerce planet may be a good place to unload our spare H.E.L. guns,” suggested Tully. These were light-based handguns of the old Republic of Earth navy, stored in the armory of the Vishnu. Civilians in the Imperium were not allowed to own lethal weapons without special permits, but the Borderlands, not under Imperium jurisdiction, was another story. Anything went in the depths of space here.
“We may want to keep them for ourselves,” countered Rastheln’iq. “We might need some form of personal protection other than Zam guns, if we can find them here. Since your H.E.L. guns no longer exist, we could never have them repaired or re-charged. Better to keep what we do not need as spares.”
“I agree,” Noomi and Indri said almost as one.
They began taking inventory of what they had to trade, now that they had found a place to trade it.
At the suggestion of Indri Mindsinger, Tully accompanied Noomi Bloodgood, for his own safety. As a group, they knew nothing about Commerce and the human knew even less about current society. Although this varied widely throughout known space, there were certain agreed upon customs for cities that had a spaceport. The Tatar could ensure that Tully committed no serious faux pas during their time on the planet.
At least that was the idea.
In the second clothing store the pair went into, Tully told Noomi, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but watching a woman shop for clothing is not my idea of fun.”
“You don’t like shopping?” the Tatar asked, missing the point. Humans were difficult for her to understand.
“No. Men of my time generally didn’t.”
Noomi shrugged and resumed picking through clothes.
“So I was thinking,” Tully forged ahead with his idea, “I’m gonna go do my own shopping. There are a few things I want to pick up for the galley.”
Noomi Bloodgood gazed sideways at the Earthman. “Indri put you in my charge.”
“Who is he to put anyone anywhere?” Tully asked hotly. “He’s not my boss and he’s not your boss.”
Noomi laughed at her companion’s annoyance. It was childish. He reminded her of a rebellious pup. “It sounded like a good idea at the time. You could get in all sorts of trouble without me.”
“Aw, I can take care of myself,” Tully retorted. “I did all right on Halo.”
The Tatar shrugged her slim shoulders. “Suit yourself.” The humans she’d known in the Templars were all reasonably tough. Though neither as strong nor as quick as Tatars, they possessed a steely determination that few other races shared. It therefore stood to reason that Tully could, as he claimed, take care of himself. And Noomi knew that he did not like fighting, so he would avoid conflict.
“I’ll see you back at the Vimana,” Tully said with a grin as he disappeared out the shop entrance.
As he strolled along the boulevard, he peeked into shop windows. Whenever he saw something that struck his fancy, he went inside, but, more often than not, he came out empty handed. The Earthman seemed to be looking for something specific.
In his search, Tully bumped into one of the many beings walking along. It was difficult not to, as he had left the wide avenues and entered the narrow alleyways where merchants set up carts or tents to hawk their wares. He had picked up a few trinkets, as well as having eaten from street vendors. In his own time, some people warned against patronizing such establishments, because that sector of the food industry was less regulated than restaurants. Tully figured that if any food cart was in same spot for two days in a row, their food must not be that bad. He assumed, by the amou
nt of business being done by these stalls and carts, that these were regulars to the marketplace.
Tully had the impression of a large being who had bumped into him, or vice-versa. This sentient said something that the human did not understand, and, rather casually, Tully responded, “Sorry, fella.”
A moment later, the Earthman flew into the air. He found himself dangling from the hand of the big alien, whose skin was the hue of a Concord grape and hairless, at least what was exposed. His head was crowned not in hair but a bumpy ridge His flesh gleamed in Commerce’s bright sunlight as he regarded Tully, whose face was now approximately level with that of his assailant. Cat’s eyes studied him.
“I said I was sorry,” Tully protested helplessly.
Suddenly, a long forked tongue flicked out between the thin lips of the giant. It came within a hairsbreadth of brushing against Tully’s skin. The human wriggled in the giant’s grasp.
A voice from behind Tully said, “He’s a Zifarian. You have to make a certain sigil of contriteness as well as saying you’re sorry for an apology to be accepted.”
The Earthman recognized the voice. It belonged to Noomi Bloodgood.
“Show me the damned sign so he’ll let me go!” Tully demanded, twisting around to look at the girl.
Tully followed Noomi’s gesture as she made it, and, satisfied, the giant Zifarian gently set his catch back on the dusty alleyway. He then went on his way without another word.
When Tully looked at Noomi, he found her grinning. “Don’t say anything,” he told her. “Not a word.”
As the pair struck off in another direction, the Earthman said, “How’d you find me?”
Noomi Bloodgood pointed to her small nose. “Tatars have a very powerful sense of smell and you don’t smell like anyone else in this city.”
Saying nothing, Tully decided to take the remark as a compliment.
Meanwhile, Rastheln’iq made inquiries about their needed engine upgrade, leaving the bartering of trading everything they could reasonably cannibalize, excess furniture from the staterooms, unnecessary metal that they had not traded at Halo, and the like, to the Indri Mindsinger. His species was a gregarious one, and its members well known for their ability to negotiate. Remaining personal items of the original crew of the Vishnu, now long since dead except for Tully, Indri took to antique shops.
When the four members of the crew of the Vishnu met three hours later at the transport Vimana, which they’d used because its nose was a cargo hold, they looked very different than when they’d parted – with the exception of Tully, who saw no reason to waste money on clothing when there was a ship full of perfectly good uniforms that were in storage when the Vishnu had made its experimental jump; he was squeamish about wearing clothing that men had died in, and suggested these be included in the salvage trade. Instead, he had returned with two wooden crates, each small enough to carry with a single hand by a corded handle. Judging by the strain he showed carrying the pair, each was somewhat heavy, but Tully did not explain as he stowed the crates aboard the Vimana, the Vishnu’s transport. He seemed, in fact, rather secretive about the whole affair.
Noomi Bloodgood looked like a different woman now, alluring and lethal at the same time. She had treated herself to professional grooming, and purchased a new garb consisting of many leathery straps covering her arms and legs and nipples and genitalia; this gave her legs the appearance of wearing very high sandals, although neither her feet nor her hands were covered. Between her small breasts lay a sheath that held a knife, and, one on each hip, Zammers in holsters; since these were non-lethal, they were legal on all but the most draconian of planets. Her H.E.L. gun was tucked into a small, concealed holster at the small of her back.
Law in the Imperium functioned in a tiered system: If the Imperium outlawed something, it was illegal – which was not to say that it could not be bought. With strict laws came a flourishing black market. Any planet could add to this restricted list, but could not legalize anything forbidden by the Imperium. These laws were enforced to varying degrees throughout the Imperium, and many was the world where a little bribe caused officials to look the other way temporarily.
Rastheln’iq was garbed in a light-colored gown of a coarse material that allowed the free flow of air through it, as well as light, upon which the plant man was more dependent than the others. Over this he wore a dark patterned floor-length vest that held many pockets, some of which now bulged with hidden contents. These were sealed shut, water- and airtight. The design of the pattern concealed the presence of the pockets to some degree, and it was difficult to detect exactly how many of them there were.
Indri Mindsinger now removed from his tall, hairless form a voluminous cloak that protected his skin from the heat of Commerce, revealing underneath plain clothing that had a vaguely militaristic quality to it. The double-breasted tunic was loose and flared out in a short skirt. He wore high leathery boots into which were tucked loose trousers. A cloth had been wound around the crown of his head. He left this in place when he spoke, “I’ve received a promise of seven thousand stellars for everything we agreed to salvage and trade.” Stellars were, as their name implied, the standard interstellar currency, though certain commodities, such as mikorn crystals, were normally accepted in most parts of known space. Seven thousand stellars would not last long for the operation of a ship such as the Vishnu, normally just a couple of months, though thus far they had reduced costs by skimming gas giants for protium, the largest expense in operating a starship outside of crew salaries, which of course there were none aboard the Vishnu.
Knowing this, Rastheln’iq interrupted, “Then what I have to say will be most welcome. I located a mechanic who will trade us a re-conditioned Overdrive 2 engine for our pristine antique Overdrive 1 engine.”
“That doesn’t sound like a good deal to me,” observed the Tatar.
“I fear it is the best we will find,” responded the plant man. “I inspected the engine. It appears to be in good condition. I suggest we take this offer.”
“And how much to install it?” asked Indri, for in many repair jobs, the cost of labor exceeded the price of parts.
“That is where we encounter a problem,” Rastheln’iq answered. “He is too busy to do the work himself. We must find a way to remove our engine and take it to him, where he will then give us the Overdrive 2 engine.”
“Is that doable?” asked the Delph.
Noomi glanced at Tully, who said, “Don’t look at me. I’m just the cook. I have to call maintenance when the stove is on the fritz.”
This puzzled the Tatar girl, for while the Earthman had studied Lingua Galactica under Pal’s tutelage and was now reasonably conversant in it, his ancient Englot expressions were sometimes undecipherable to modern ears, even pointed ones like Noomi’s.
Reading her expression, Tully explained, “I’m no mechanic.”
“Pal is equipped to oversee the work, and he could assist, but we would require a sentient being to do the bulk of the work. Pal lacks the dexterity to do the work alone. And it is probably beyond my capability, as well,” admitted Rastheln’iq. “Mechanics is not my specialty.”
“Then some of our newfound wealth must go to pay a qualified starship mechanic,” concluded Indri.
“Yes,” agreed the Vir scientist, “and a mechanic is not something to spend cheaply on. As we all agreed, Overdrive 2 is essential for our survival. There is no reason to acquire one if we do not have it installed properly.”
“Or if we can’t get the software to run it,” reminded Indri Mindsinger. “I assume you also looked into that?”
The plant man nodded. “It is out of our price range,” he stated flatly. “Even a pirated copy would likely break our finances. If we could trust it. If we had access to our old contacts, perhaps we could find a reliable copy, but dealing with strangers, I would be hesitant.”
“Then why waste our time and energy getting the O-2 engine?” asked Tully.
“Because the Overdrive 2 can
still operate as Overdrive 1 with the software we already have,” explained Rastheln’iq. “If we install the Overdrive 2 engine now, we can hope to acquire the proper software later, with no risk.”
“Huh,” grunted the Earthman.
“However, we need to think about getting a better computer,” explained the Viridian scientist. “As sophisticated as the Vishnu’s model was fourteen hundred years ago, it is primitive by today’s standards, little better than an abacus, and installing Overdrive 2 will push it to its limits. We will not be able to add any additional programs that we might find useful, and existing systems may be not a hundred percent reliable all of the time.”
“What do you mean?” Indri asked in an alarmed tone.
“We may experience delays in response time. A system or operation may crash.”
“Then some sort of upgrade to the Vishnu’s computer is also essential,” stated the Delph.
Rastheln’iq nodded. “I can jury rig the computer by upgrading certain components without replacing it, if necessary. This will likely be inexpensive.”
“You said ‘other programs’. You mean programs for defense and such,” Noomi Bloodgood offered knowingly.
“Exactly. In addition, the ship’s computer is incredibly slow. Even a modest sized modern model will be an immense improvement. However, we all know how expensive these are.”
“Maybe we could find a pirate copy of the software we need, and find some work here to get us some ready cash,” suggested Noomi. As a Templar, she was used to doing odd jobs for pay, for the Templars were mercenaries.
“That’s something to consider,” Indri agreed in a tone that did not conceal the fact he did not like the idea. He also agreed with Wormwood that a pirated copy was probably inadvisable. As much as he loathed the plant man, he had to admit that he was very, very intelligent.
“Like being bodyguards? You know that you’re the only one who’s a soldier,” Tully reminded the Tatar girl.
Four on the Run Page 9