Pertumit Garundi 10

“Get us ready to clear out.” I barked into my com to Fred.  Winter looked ashen and swayed on her feet.  I all but pushed her down the still, (thank Oberonae and Dantiana,) deserted corridors of the Silver Siren.  I dragged her aboard and cycled the lock.  Fred sent a hovbed and I pushed Winter onto it, even though she protested.  Her complaint was feeble though as she rolled onto her side with a groan.  I got her to our small medical bay and let the machines do the diagnostic work.  The slice on the abdomen only needed swabbing and anti-bac.  The claw marks required sutures.  The cut on her face needed both anti-bac and micro sutures.  The botdoc started fluids for dehydration, and additional analgesics, as her core temperature was elevated.

How it knew what the core temperature of a Hashtaaleen was, I had no idea.  I assumed at some point, Winter must have provided biometric data to Fred’s diagnostic sensors and the bot could use that information for comparison. When I look at Winter, and if I didn’t know her, I would assume she was a taller-than-average human woman.  But there are small things about her that make it obvious her biology is different.  She has gills for one.  They are hardly noticeable but when you look closely at the sides of her throat, you can see the thin red line where her gill slits are visible.  She has slight webbing on her fingers, which like the gills, wouldn’t be all that pronounced unless she was in the water, I guess.  She has round pupils that tighten down into slits, like those of a feline.  She also has a nictitating membrane in her eye and I’m not sure of its function.  I can see the pupil response as useful in low-light situations.

 I think the scariest thing about her is the fangs.  She has a humanoid set of teeth, but she also has a secondary set of canines that extend down over or maybe under, I’ve never gotten a good look at them.  Narellian told me once her caste was born half in and half out of the water. Narellian also told me she should give up running around the galaxy and settle down with him, as there were not enough free Hashtaali in the universe.

I can imagine what she thinks of that idea.  She tolerates Narellian but I don’t think she likes him much.  To me, he’s an insufferable bore, an elitist, and woefully ignorant of anything outside his specialty. He’s lucky I suppose.  He’s not a product of the Hashtaaleen ghettos, Finral’s World, and Darbulatan.

The botdoc let Winter out of the infirmary and she staggered onto the bridge. “Are we going somewhere?” She rubbed her nose, and blood stained her fingertips.

“Under the circumstances? I think we should let them deal with it.  Now, Ualune sounds like a great idea.” Honestly, I wasn’t sure L’Marchonase could pull it off.  Old Bildarthian mines didn’t sound like a lucrative deal to me.

Winter half slid half-collapsed into her navigation couch.  “Fred, power down. We aren’t leaving.” She sighed.

“What? Care to explain why?” I put my hands on my hips and stared incredulously at her. “You got the chucksa beaten out of you, they’re dealing with a bunch of greedy idiots as far as I can tell, and frankly, I’ve heard about the Bildarthian tendency to mine the sojoni out of a sector and forget about them…until some unfortunate ship happens to find them.”

Winter raised her eyebrows. “Where have you heard about Bildarthian technology before?  I think it is safe to say, you and I have never discussed it.”

I shrugged my shoulders. “Around. Ships gossip, stuff like that.”  I didn’t want to tell her Darryl and I both knew Winter talked in her sleep.  She also sleepwalks which is why Fred has the override command to lock her in her cabin.  Darryl didn’t want her to have an episode, sleepwalk to the bridge, and change our course headings in the navicomputer.  Not that Fred wouldn’t catch it in time, but she could theoretically program him to ignore any other commands but hers.  Darryl wasn’t too enthralled with the idea of flying into a supernova. Fred often translated what Winter said if he understood the dialect, but only Darryl heard that part.  She’d tell me if she thought it was interesting enough. Darryl thought BB mines did bear mentioning, although I read enough from my father’s archive on Bildarthian weaponry to know what kind of havoc the weapons would cause with a ship’s systems.

I contemplated killing Darryl myself if I ever met her again at this point. Leaving us in debt was one thing, leaving me to deal with Winter’s eccentricities was unconscionable.

Winter studied me and I resisted the impulse to look at the floor.  She narrowed her eyes, and I got the impression she was probing me.  Understand the Violeteer do have telepathic and telekinetic abilities, although I’m not adept at either skill.  I’ve never heard if the Hashtaaleen had such abilities or not. I think Winter might be good at reading expressions, so I kept my guileless simpleton face on and ducked my head when she finally looked away.

“So, you would cut and run anyway? What if that was your family then?” She wasn’t looking at me, she was studying the navigational display on her console and seemed to be reviewing a star chart. 

I wondered how much she already knew about me and if this was a loaded question.  I also tried to decide how to answer without her working out I’d been listening in on her conversation with L’Marchonase. 

“They aren’t your family.  You said so yourself.” I went to my acceleration couch and sat down but didn’t strap in.

“Ah so, Marion Trafalgar regaled you with tales about his ancestor, hasn’t he?” Winter shifted her seat so she could look at me.

I decided the truth would be the wisest course.  “He mentioned he and L’Marchonase were cousins, and they were related to the Yeltsin Boudreaux family and the pirate entrepreneur John Trafalgar.”

Winter nodded her head and her expression turned contemplative.  “His name was Emerson Boudreaux.  He took the name John Trafalgar when he was framed for murder.  He was sent to the mines for his crime and was disowned by his family.  He was married to Misandre LeBranau who thought he was having an affair with her sister.  He wasn’t but she framed him for her murder.  Misandre was mentally ill, and it became obvious before it was all over,  she was the one who killed her sister.  She also tried to kill her three children with Emerson by spacing them.  Fortunately, someone had left a suit in the airlock, and all three of them got in it before the lock cycled open.  They were saved by their uncle who heard them screaming into the suit’s com. The Boudreaux’s were harsh in disowning Emerson. They forced him into an arranged marriage with a LeBranau as a political move and then because of their embarrassment over the whole murder charge disowned him.  Their collective guilt over believing Misandre over their own son is still obvious today.  I wonder if it is because of the mess with Misandre or because he made them rich after the fact. Anyway, while in the mines, he discovered the Kaprosian natives were treated appallingly by their LeBranau administrators.  He escaped with the help of his Kaprosian crew and created havoc for the LeBranau, Dellacroix, and Rossenal families who were the primary owners of Kaprosian slaves in the mines.  He laid the groundwork for the consortium by including friendly human families and Kaprosians in the organization of his network.  They eventually broke LDR Holdings Ltd by destroying their ore haulers and defense ships.  Emerson left the flagship to direct the battle himself and did not return.” Winter sounded far away, and her voice was soft.

“You were there.” I knew I was stating the obvious, but Winter nodded anyway. I had a sudden epiphany.  Winter helped coordinate the battle and probably had a lot of influence on Emerson Boudreaux. No wonder L’Marchonase had instructed Narellian to contact Winter if he saw himself as her spiritual great-grandson.  He already knew from somewhere…a family memoir probably, what she had accomplished with Emerson and what her role had been with John Trafalgar’s outfit.  “You said yourself you weren’t related to them, so…”

“I’m not, but I am.  I can’t let Emerson’s grandsons die because they did not have enough experience with Bildarthian weaponry.  I can’t do it.” She looked at me directly and she had that intense expression in her eyes.  “You can though.  You can walk away.  Take the Fred, go wherever you want.  But, know this, Ellora Grace, whatever you run from will eventually catch up to you.  Trust me.  I know.”  She bent her head and began entering commands into the navicomp as her couch moved around to face the main screens. 

I recognized the star system she programmed as it flashed up on the screens.  “Ualune. You’re sending me back to Ualune.” I blinked at her in disbelief.

“Well, you can change the registry of the Fred there and probably find a new crew for any freight hauling enterprise. Unless you’d like to go to Altamira?”

“Uh. No.” She wasn’t looking at me, but I had the strangest feeling, almost like a premonition she knew exactly why we’d avoided Altamira all these cerens and she knew who and what I was.  It was the crawly sensation on the back of my neck and my arms, the same ones I had during my visions that stopped me from commenting further.

“All right then. Let me get my gear.  Fred, transfer all command codes to Ellora Grace.”  She stood up, wobbled a bit, and grabbed the back of the chair to steady herself. “I’d avoid Rangolin, Parchense, Dar-est-tellat, and Cahraehn, because Darryl left them hanging and they’d take the Fred in a heartbeat no matter who owns him.” She made it to the door. “Oh, and avoid Chimdee and the Hiden at all costs. Chimdee’s the Hidese homeworld but their influence is everywhere.  Never get involved with them if you can possibly help it.” She started to walk out but poked her head back in. “Our passenger in the hold should probably be taken to a free Hashtaaleen colony if you can find one.”

I was out of my chair and running down the hallway after her. “Wait! A passenger? Why in the seven hells didn’t you tell me!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The child in the strangely designed pod was hardly more than an infant, at least that is how it looked to me.  Winter opened the craft with an external keycode and peeled back the covering on the pod so I could look at the face of the sleeping baby.  “Is that…?

Winter nodded. “We call them Frost Children.  In the latter stage of the war, desperate Hashtaali parents gave their children up to the hibernation beds.  Scores of them were smuggled off Hashtaal with many of them ending up on Finral’s or Darbulatan.  Such was their parent’s desperation that they knew they were condemning their child to a life of slavery.  But life as a slave was better than death.”

Not the best rationale, I thought, but then I’d never experienced anything remotely like it so I should not make judgments on a people long turned to dust.

“This Frost Child was found in the wreckage of a ship.  It had been purchased by …well, an important personage from The Realm as a companion for its own child, provided it could be thawed and make a viable playmate.  Someone found out about the purchase and re-directed the capsule to me.”

I stared at her. “And why would they do that, Winter?”

She shrugged. “I did a favor for some old friends.” She turned to leave the hold. “Probably as good a  reason as any to avoid The Realm for a while too.  There could have been media coverage of the theft since these old capsules are also considered archeological artifacts.  I understand some museums would like to acquire relics like these.” She strolled out the door.

“Winter!” I yelled at the top of my lungs.

“Yes?” She poked her head back in the hold with alarming speed.

“Fred, are you listening?”  I was sure he was, he just hadn’t commented

“Yes, I am Ellora Grace.”

“Good. Then I want this on record.  I am a pragmatist.  I think Kerlian-Pertumit Garundi doublecross to be a hare-brained suicidal caper thought up by two schoolboys with romantic notions of grandeur. I also recognize that you, Winter, have absolutely got me by the short hairs.  I have no idea where to find a free Hashtaaleen colony, I cannot go to Altamira, and I can’t thaw this kid out and raise it. So, I guess the Fred, and myself will be staying for the duration of this insane caper, may Oberonae bless us and keep us from getting killed.”

To her credit, Winter didn’t smile or acknowledge she’d outmaneuvered me.  Instead, she nodded.

“Fred, belay the warmup. Shut down engines and reattach us to The Silver Siren.” To me, she said, “Keep the command codes. I’ll be in my cabin.”

I got the impression I’d passed a test of some kind.

Pertumit Garundi 9

My very earnest doctor’s name was Marion Trafalgar. As we strolled through the ops section of the bridge, and later over a leisurely dinner, he told me about his education as a physician on Syrenacia in the Yeltsin Mining Consortium. Yeltsin does not have a royal family, but his family is one of the more prominent ones within the governance, and L’Marchonase is his first cousin.

We were seated in one of the smaller lounges, watching the movement of multiple ships in and around the Silver Siren on giant screens. “So, what made you give up a lucrative career in the consortium? Why become a pirate?” I stirred my drink with my finger, tilted my head, and gave him (what I hoped was) my most fetching smile.

He laughed, took a sip of his whiskey, and swallowed. “I have a legacy. Enri and I grew up hearing about our ancestor, who was instrumental in unionizing the miners into the consortium it is today. In those days, the human population dominated the Kaprosian miners. The Kaprosian treatment was not equitable, and they were little more than slaves. Our ancestor found out the hard way as he was accused of a crime he did not commit and was sentenced to work in the mines. He eventually escaped and was determined to avenge himself against the mining outfit he thought had set him up. He and his gang stole equipment mining payrolls and was known for spreading his ill-gotten gains around, enough to help miners with smaller claims out and struggling locals. He helped to organize the Kaprosians, so when they finally rebelled, they succeeded. Our ancestor was killed in the final battle, but we grew up hearing about his exploits.”

“Ah, storytime. A bit hard to live up to, don’t you think?” He became more attractive as I drank, so I resolved to slow down a bit on the Kaprosian shandies or whatever it was their bartender tossed at me.

“Enri could have done anything he wanted. But I can’t see him ever wanting to oversee mining operations or run a corporation. It suits him to persuade others to want to join him in some of his more hair-brained enterprises. He’s one of the luckiest individuals I’ve ever met because the crazier the enterprise is, it has a better chance of success. He’s made us rich men. Yeah, we’re outlaws on Altamira, Ualune, The Realm worlds, and a few others, but he has an uncanny knack for taking advantage of unethical situations and unscrupulous individuals.” He sipped his drink and his eyes crinkled at the corners. I decided I liked him.

“You like championing causes then?”

He laughed. “It would be simplistic to say we see ourselves robbing the rich to give to the poor because we don’t.  Not always. There’s a strong element of enlightened self-interest going on, which would negate the altruistic tendencies. Yet, we don’t forget our friends either.”

My turn to laugh. “How very noble of you.”

My perusal of the Silver Siren ended with a visit to his quarters. Like the conference room, his suite of rooms had a long redwood table, although he had an adjacent kitchen and a food synth with an on-demand menu. He also had floor-to-ceiling programmable plasma screens that could show the exterior of the ship, various planetscapes, or my favorite, Idorica, the capital city of Altamira, at dusk.

His sheets were also Parchense museli fiber, the softest you can imagine. His suite reminded me of holos I have seen of the twelve thousand auran a night hotel suite on Kell station.

I am a habitually early riser, so the ship’s clock had not reached 0500 when I stumbled into his ‘fresher and discovered the water shower. I indulged myself and lazed under the warmest setting for a good five chronos before my com chimed. I found a towel (heated no less!) and wrapped it around me. I found my fingercase with my tooth kit and stuck the brush end in my mouth while I read the system message from Fred.

Winter had also not returned to the ship. While not an immediate cause for alarm, it made me uneasy. Fred is used to her idiosyncrasies and knows how to handle them or when to lock her in her cabin when it is not safe for her or anyone else. Fred informed me that he was unaware of her whereabouts and that she had missed her scheduled communication time.

I yanked on my shipsuit as fast as I could when Marion stumbled out of bed and offered to make me breakfast and cafcoca, which I admit was tempting. The shipwide alert suddenly blaring out of every com system in the room made me wake up a lot faster than the cafcoca would, though.

“Fred crewmember Grace, report to the battle bridge conference room immediately!” The ship’s mainframe had a pleasant voice but sounded disquieted.

Fred chimed in less than a few seconds later. “Ellora, follow your tweeter to the battle bridge. You are needed there. It sounds bad.”

I waved Marion off and grabbed my boots from the vestibule by the door. I was tugging them on and waiting for the lift when he pressed a meatroll into my hand and a small thermacup of cafcoca. “You may need it.” He said and waved as the lift doors closed.

I jogged down the main passage, which seemed familiar after last night’s grand tour. I had to dodge early morning on-shift personnel, but the ship had not yet moved into mainday. I wolfed down the roll and followed it with a slug from the thermacup. I was still brushing crumbs off my wrinkled shipsuit when the second lift deposited me onto the battle bridge conference room.

L’Marchonase was standing at the back of the room, his arms folded across his chest. The rest of the room was clear, except for Winter, who was standing in the middle of a floor-sized battle holotank. I could smell the alcohol the second I walked in.

“Oh, chuksa! What have you done!” I snapped at him and skidded to a stop a healthy distance away from Winter.

He shot me an incredulous glance. “What did I do? Nothing. I found her like this.”

“Yeah, well, don’t get too close if you value your life…and keep everyone out of here. She can be volatile when she’s been drinking.”

He nodded and muttered something into his com. I stopped paying attention to him and watched her instead.

She walked in and out of the floor-to-ceiling holo projection of the Pertumit Garundi system and muttered to herself, but it wasn’t in a language I recognized. She waved a glass at something and gestured with it to various points on the map. She held the whiskey bulb loosely in the other hand, and it dripped out of the broken tip of the bulb and onto the floor. She raised her head and seemed to see me, but her eyes held the haunted glassy-eyed stare that she got during her episodes.

I heard from Darryl that Winter had spent two prolonged periods of time in hibernation sleep. The first lasted at least three hundred cerens and the second a little longer than fifty.  Hybersleep capsules, modern ones, are not designed for prolonged hibernation unless there is a reason to need sleeper beds for long-range exploration and the like. Three hundred cerens is bound to scramble your mind for a while, and if someone were willing to undergo that process a second time, well, they must have some pretty big problems if they are trying to avoid them by hibernating.

The manufacturers do not recommend using hibernation capsules for prolonged periods for a reason, and never more than once. Darryl thought her episodes were caused by hybersleep, but the longer I’ve been around her, the less convinced of that I am.

I kept my distance even though I thought I could dodge her if I had to. She has reflexes as I do. If she were human, the speed of her movement would seem unnatural and much like the legends about my people. Keep in mind I’ve seen Narellian in a fight. He’s fast but not nearly as fast as Winter, and I know Winter isn’t a Violeteer like me. My gut tells me she’s something else and perhaps not all Hashtaaleen. So, I feel my wariness is justified.

“Winter!” She flinched at the sound of her name but was otherwise unresponsive. She turned her back to me and muttered something that sounded vaguely like Hashtaali, but to my ears, it didn’t sound right.

“Winter! Speak Standard so we can understand you.” I moved back into her line of sight. Her eyes felt like they were burning right through me; such was the intensity of her gaze. She moved to turn away from me again, and I darted in front of her.

“Speak Standard! I know you are trying to tell us something about this map, aren’t you?” I guessed wildly, trying to keep her in front and facing me.

Her ship suit was torn and grimy. She’d undone the front and tied the arms of the suit around her waist, exposing the thin gray short-sleeved tunic beneath it. The shirt was also grimy, like she’d rolled around in the garbage chute for a day or so. Her knuckles on both hands were bloody. She had a cut on her cheek that was oozing blood and dripping down her chin. She wore her extendstav on a clip at her waist, and the edge of it was bloody. She, or someone, had hacked off her hair. It fell unevenly to just under her chin.

“She’s been in a fight,” I commented to L’Marchonase over my shoulder. “Check to see who’s in your morgue or infirmary.” I moved again to keep in Winter’s line of sight as she made to turn away from me again. I could see other wounds, one across her abdomen, which looked superficial but bleeding slowly. She also had parallel marks on her shoulder. They looked like claw marks to me.

“You’d better check the location of the Ni’chine delegation, just in case.” I had a hunch from Winter’s injuries she might have crossed one of them while drinking.

L’Marchonase spoke up from behind me. “One Ni’chine is dead. The other is in a hibernation pod until my cousin can figure out how to stabilize her injuries. How did you know?”

I darted in front of Winter again as she turned and gestured at something. “Winter! Focus on my voice. Listen to me. What is important about this map? Speak Standard so we can understand you.”

Winter flung her arm out, and the bulb of alcohol went flying. It smashed into the bulkhead and shattered. She slowly sagged to her knees and cradled her right arm with the other.

“Winter! You are injured. Let me check on you. I won’t harm you; you know that. You know me.” I know I was pleading with her a little bit, but the last time I saw Darryl talk her down, she would only let Darryl touch her, but that was not without a lot of hissing and growling. Darryl would repeatedly use her name, and while I wasn’t sure it would help, it wouldn’t hurt either.

“Get me a medipak.” I held my hand out as L’Marchonase rummaged through one of the emergency cases along the walls. “Winter, let me help.”

The medipak slid along the floor and stopped at my feet. I reached down and picked it up. Along with an antibiotic spray, he’d found an anti-inebriate solution.

I kept eye contact with Winter as I slowly approached her. I had no idea if her physiology would respond to the anti-inebriate medication and, moreover, how I would deploy it. Typically, it was a hypospray used in the eyes. I would have to get close to her and force her to look at me long enough to spray it in her face.

There were a few hundred problems with this idea, the least of which would be her trying to kill me. I was racking my brain for anything I could remember about what Darryl did when Fred overrode the shipwide channel on the Silver Siren and began to sing.

Fred does not have the greatest “voice” in the universe, but he does have a respectable baritone and great range. I did not recognize the song or the language he sang in, but the effect on Winter was instantaneous. She cried out and tumbled to the floor in a sobbing heap. I ran to her side and tugged her onto her back. She made no move to resist as she took in great gasping breaths. The hypospray left her blinking, and I could see the second membrane in her eyes close and reopen. It must have penetrated because she began vomiting up the remaining alcohol in her system almost immediately. I had to drag her to a sitting position to prevent her from accidentally inhaling the spent spirits. L’Marchonase, or someone, found her a receptacle, and we let her clear the alcohol from her stomach. I looked up, and Dr. Trafalgar was there with a medical crew. He handed me a blanket, and I tucked it around Winter, partially because she had the shakes and to keep her arms and hands hindered at her sides. L’Marchonase found a chair, and rather than sit in it, and she leaned against its leg. She had her eyes closed, so it was difficult to ascertain if the strange glassy look had subsided.

“Your ship has some interesting talents. But I think he can cease humming now.” L’Marchonase stood back and then began slowly pacing the room.

“Fred, you can stop. I think she’ll be alright.” I muttered into my com.

“When this incident is over, I think you should explain how your ship overrode my ship’s com system.” L’Marchonase did not sound angry. In fact, he sounded curious and slightly alarmed.

I nodded my head because I wasn’t sure myself. My best guess is something Winter programmed into him in case of emergencies.

“Winter, can you open your eyes and look at me? The doctor would like to….”

“No exams. I’m fine.” She croaked and made to get up. Instead, she struggled with the blanket.

“Winter, it is just to make sure the alcohol is completely out of your system.” I scooted closer.

“Water.” She mumbled to the floor. Trafalgar apparently heard her and handed me a careen of water. I handed it to her by the strap, and she took a small sip. She coughed. “No exam.”

“Winter…” I began.

“I said, no exam.” She moved so quickly that my eyes even had trouble catching the movement. She set the careen down, tossed off the blanket, and stood in one fluid movement, leaving me to scuttle back away from her. She opened her eyes, and the strangeness was gone.

L’Marchonase studied her for a moment. “What happened?”

“A couple of the feistier recruits wanted to collect the bounty on me. I dissuaded them.”

“Ah, that explains the injuries. We will review the internal security eyes to verify your story. In the meantime, you gained access to this room and were reviewing the star charts. Would you care to explain why, grandmere”?  L’Marchonase stopped pacing and stood over by the control console.

“Don’t call me that. I’m not related to you.” Winter snapped at him.

L’Marchonase bowed, “As you wish. But you are related to me, perhaps not physically, but spiritually. You knew my great, great, great, grandfather, Emerson Boudreaux or rather, John Trafalgar, did you not?”

Winter sighed. “As much as I try to forget, yes, yes, I did.”

“And you were the one to suggest that he unite the Kaprosians to form the mining consortium it is today.”

Winter cocked her head and glared at him. “It got him killed.”

L’Marchonase nodded. “It did, but he accomplished what no one else had thought to do about an unfair and exploitative situation. The consortium thrives because of what he did.”

Winter snorted. “Posthumously. He would never have liked to have seen himself venerated the way he is today.”

L’Marchonase’s expression softened. “You cared for him, didn’t you?”

Winter coughed, gestured at the careen, and I handed it to her. She took a long sip from it. “I did. What of it? It was a long time ago.”

L’Marchonase stroked his beard and sat down in one of the club chairs ringing the room. “When I sent word to Narellian to ask for you specifically to come to hear me out, truthfully, I did not expect you to show up. I gathered from the aftermath of events that you probably wanted nothing more to do with the Boudreaux family. Except I’d heard your captain left you with serious debt.”

“I’m solvent.” Winter shrugged.

I frowned. We were solvent on Ualune and now Fairelawn, but not anywhere else, at least not that I knew anyway. I thought hard about what I’d heard about the Boudreauxs of Yeltsin. I’d always heard one of their disinherited sons was instrumental in the forming of the consortium. The doctor’s story began to make sense to me.

“I don’t pretend I understand humans. To me, you are all nomads in the night sky, and your logic baffles me. So, no, I have no idea why your many generations’ great father did the things he did, only that they seemed to him to be the right thing to do. In my opinion, it would have been correct to stay with your loved ones, but he did not feel the same way, so there is that.” Winter took another sip from the careen, swished it around in her mouth, and spat it out on the floor. A flurry of cleaning bots scuttled out and moped it up before she sat the careen down again.

L’Marchonase cocked his head. “You think he should have stayed with you?”

Winter made a harsh sound with her mouth. “No. Your many generations mother, that’s who. A sad mess and I am not surprised he became a pirate. He was happier, and I could say more, but as I said, he’s dead, and the truth is less romantic than you think.”

L’Marchonase was quiet for a few chronos. When he spoke again, his voice was soft. “I would like to know the truth someday, though. Will you tell me or at least write it down, so the record is clear?”

Winter sighed and nodded slowly. Her expression changed to one of sorrow, and I thought, for once, she looked her age. But then she straightened her shoulders, and the stoic expression she always wears was back.

“You seem concerned about the star map. Can you tell me why?” L’Marchonase turned on the projection so that the holo generated floor to ceiling. He stood and walked over to the furthest edge showing Pertumit Garundi.

Winter pinched the bridge of her nose and rubbed the tip. I may have been the only one that saw her fingertips come away bloody. She wiped her hand on her shirt, and the blood faded in with the other stains.

“I…” She frowned, shook her head, and walked into the projection. “Would you expand outward and give me a three-dimensional view?” She glanced over at me. “Is there an analgesic in that medpack?”

I rummaged through it and found another hypospray. I handed it to her, and she used it and sprayed a bit into her mouth.

She studied the map. The star of Garundi hung in the air, as did the star of the Kerlian system. “Did you notice this?” She pointed at an area seemingly devoid of stars just below the Garundi system.

L’Marchonase nodded. “The mapmakers did not extend it out far enough. I guess they thought both systems were rather remote.”

“It is not the remoteness, although that is a factor. This broad area here,” She swept her hand along the section of darkness. “Is mined. This is the forward edge of Bildarthian space.”

“Mines? The Kerlians only mentioned they had only two solid trade routes in and out of the area.” L’Marchonase frowned.

Winter swept her hand along the broadsides of both planets in question. “Your primary and secondary routes have to be here because the rest would be too dangerous. Anything else would cross over into their space. Unfortunately, it will be difficult to tell if you have crossed into Bildarthian territory until it is too late.”

“What do you mean?” I had to ask.

Winter directed her attention to me. Her eyes didn’t have a glassy look, but she sounded as she was reciting something. I doubt L’Marchonase noticed, but I’ve known her longer. She pretended to be alright, but she wasn’t.

“They use borath-barillian mines. They attach to your hull, usually in large limpets or smaller microdust clouds. They eat through your ship’s superstructure and destabilize it. The second you charge your vanes to jump, you get peeled like a pelion egg. Or you accidentally trawl through a chain of them. They can mimic your hull signature and fool your repair sensors, so you don’t notice the damage until it is too late. Ask your liaisons from both sides how many ships they’ve lost and where. Hopefully, they’ve kept records. Ambushing their shipments coming or going from either system could be a challenge simply because of the proximity to Bildarthian space. The mines could also have drifted. It depends on how often this section of the border is maintained.”

“Chucksa venerati!” L’Marchonase swore and pulled up other star maps. I watched as Winter slowly began to sag downward. I grabbed her arm and propelled her out of the room, leaving him still cursing savagely behind us.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As a side note to this story, if you like it, please consider supporting me on Patreon. For a dollar a month, you have access to blog posts, occasional videos, and material either cut from the story completely or material for the next novel.  I publish a lot of side material there, so please consider joining me as this trilogy of stories spools out of my head and into my fingers.

Here is the link to my Patreon account.  I hope to see you there!

https://www.patreon.com/user?u=24393564&fan_landing=true

Thank you!

My next convention will be LEVEL UP in Las Vegas, Nevada.  See you then!

Pertumit Garundi 8

I was at war with myself. A part of me, probably the sensible part and the overly cautious with good reason part, said not to eat too much as a hasty escape might still be needed.  The part that had been existing on k-rations for far too long was screaming “FOOD!” at the top of its voice.  It did not help that the Silver Siren had a massive buffet wall made of lifelike dishes from which to make our choices.  We were given vouchers by a ship-uniformed attendant.  Ours were styled after an auran note but in fingercard form.  As I walked around trying to take in the sheer amount of available edibles, I noticed Winter and I seemed to be the only ones possessing the auran cards.  All the other beings around us had scarlet cards with the Siren’s logo emblazoned on them.  I left the queue for something on a stick and found another attendant. 

“What is the difference between those red cards and mine?”  The attendant glanced at me, then my card, and bowed. 

“Your card, sirra, is for visiting dignitaries, theirs is for general guests. You have unlimited access to as much as you like.  If you will follow me, please.” He escorted me to a private seating area.  Winter was already scrolling through a handheld reader and glanced up at me.  I sat down in the plush chair and stared at her.

“Were you planning on telling me we didn’t have to stand in line?” I shook my head incredulously.

Winter shrugged. “You walked away too fast.  I thought looking at all the available food would make you happy, and that you’d find out sooner or later.”

I shook my head. “So, what do we do?”

Winter held up the reader.  “Look at the pictures and descriptions. It is translated, although their Hashtaali needs work. Choose what you want, and it will join us in the conference room.”

When I was younger, I didn’t know any different, so I always thought I could have whatever I wanted whenever I wanted it.  I grew up in a palace, and without a frame of reference, my world was quite narrow.  It did not help that my father spoiled me.  He meant well, I know it, but it was an experience to discover the universe did not operate on those terms.  I know he expected me to run right back to the palace once I discovered the truth, but I’ve committed to my commoner status.  On those few and far between moments when I am treated above my chosen station, it makes my head feel strange.

“Are you alright?” Winter stared at me, her irises contracting down into slits. She tilted her head.

I gulped in oxygen and felt my face flush. “I’m alright, I’m just a bit…overwhelmed, I think.”

“Ah well.  I don’t think we have to do this here.” She stood and gestured to the reader. “Bring it with you.”

The conference room spanned across two massive corridors.  The table itself was a long oblong slab of wood.  It appeared to be from a single trunk, and I don’t know where trees that big are found in the universe.  The scarlet wood appeared ancient and was polished to a satin sheen.  Winter found her seat, from the holo floating above it.  I had my chair directly behind hers in the tiers of seats leading upward toward the ceiling.  I had a clear view of her, and of all the other chairs around the room.  We were not the first to come in and sit, although we had our end of the table to ourselves.  I saw Winter order, so I did too.  I hate to admit it, but I stuck to the dishes I like and feel comfortable eating.  So, I ordered spicy noodles.  No kitchen in the universe can screw noodles up unless they are really trying.  While I was eating, I had a good view of Winter’s dinner choices.  Since you, my too generous patron, asked about all things Winter, I made the effort to pay attention to what she ate.

What has always struck me about Winter is what she doesn’t eat.  I know my phrasing is a little strange but indulge me here.  I’ve watched her pick apart a Realmese piscina and leave the best parts of it on a separate plate.  Here she crushed the sandwich with one hand.  Golden rhomal cheese oozed from around the edges of the toasted flaxi bread.  She took her belt knife and cut the sandwich into smaller squares.  Each section of the square, she examined.  She placed four of the pieces on a separate plate.  The only thing I could determine about those four pieces is that they appeared to have more cheese on them and maybe they were slightly more toasted if that makes sense.  She did not use the ornate tableware although there was quite a selection of picks, odd sporks, lacquered sticks, and ladles.  I saw her stop, dip her head, and mutter something to the plate before she picked up one of the cheese squares and put it in her mouth. She swallowed it whole.  She repeated the action with the remaining eight squares and took a sip from her water glass.  Then, she pushed the whole plate away and got out her reader. To me, she eats with economy, and with no enjoyment.  She’s like one of the edges of my knives, honed to sharpness.

But, again, she perpetually looks like she hasn’t slept in a long time.  There’s a hollowness around her eyes and cheekbones that makes me think she’s running on reserve power.

My covert study of her was interrupted by L’Marchonase.  His appearance must have signified the opening of the gates, as beings from all over our arm of the universe entered the cavernous room and began to sit down.  Two Ni’chine females sat several seats away from Winter along with their male human slaves.  They watched everyone else in the room with faint amusement although I could tell they were puzzled by Winter’s presence above the salt.  L’Marchonase said something to Winter too soft for me to hear.  She shook her head, put away the reader, and took out a small scribepad.  She folded her hands in her lap and pointedly ignored the Ni’chine.  A Metanid lumbered over and made to sit in the chair next to Winter, and it was waved away by a guard. It glanced at the scribepad, shrugged its shoulders, and clomped back down the row of seats.  L’Marchonase waited until the rabble was moderately quiet before beginning his remarks.  Winter turned on the scribepad, and a holo of him appeared in the air above the table.  He gestured for quiet, and surprisingly, the din settled immediately. 

“We have been presented with an unprecedented opportunity.” L’Marchonase began as the holo generator cast his visage upward over the table. “The Grand Viseur of Kerlian Prime has reached a trade impasse with the neighboring world of Pertumit Garundi.  He has hired our fleet to operate as privateers between Garundi and their trade routes to the main systems in order to force the Garundi into better trading relations with them.  At the same time, the Garundi have hired gunships from the Altamirans and Sambrosians to protect their trade with the primary worlds.  The Sambrosians are, as usual, willing to subcontract, and have approached us to defend the Garundi ships.” He paused and he was replaced by a giant star chart of the warring worlds.  “The Altamirans are having problems of their own, as Teglan from Trinastar-Halcyon seems hell-bent on attacking them for reasons known only to Teglan.  Consequently, the Altamirans have their hands full at the moment and won’t be sending troops.”

I wondered if Winter knew about Altamira before this.  I hadn’t been to my homeworld in fifteen cerens even though it was our fictitious destination.  I wondered what in the seven hells the ruler of Trinastar was thinking.  Not only does Altamira have a state-of-the-art military, but the planet is also covered in a massive shield.  Any ships attempting to attack also need to get through the navigational hazards of the Altamiran system.  The planet is surrounded by asteroids. 

In my history lessons, I learned that Altamira had once been part of a set of binary planetoids.  The gravitational stresses on the system broke them apart.  Altamira was formed and the debris rings formed a natural barrier that protects the planet.  However, when my people and the humans found it, the need for a planetary shield became readily apparent.  In my musing about my homeworld, I missed a few L’Marchonase’s remarks.

“My agents have informed me there is an ulterior motive behind the Viseur’s disagreement with the Garundi.  Apparently, Garundi amber is a highly prized confection on Kerlian which affects their physiology.”

One of the Ni’chine women guffawed. “Created themselves a planet of addicts have they?”

Winter turned her head slightly and raised her eyebrows at them.  The less hirsute of the two Ni’chine shot Winter an insolent sneer.  I heard a soft intake of breath behind me and angled my shoulder to see who was breathing down my neck.

“Will she attack them for that?”  The good doctor had made himself comfortable a seat or two behind me.  I  hadn’t heard him which meant I was too focused on the Ni’chine myself.

I shrugged. “Depends on what mood she’s in when this is over.” I’m not above adding to the Hashtaaleen mystique when it suits me, and at that moment, I was annoyed he’d snuck up on me. The debate on the floor had begun, as all the invited captains discussed how to proceed, and more importantly, how to divide the spoils.

“Is that why your ship is here? To help co-ordinate?”

I shrugged again.  Truthfully, I couldn’t answer because I didn’t know, and Winter wasn’t forthcoming during dinner.

I waved him away and tried to concentrate on the conversation on the floor.  A transreader popped up in front of me from the arm of the chair.  A translation matrix ran a streamer crawl across the screen in multiple galactic languages.  I recognized Altamiran, Ramshis, and what I thought might be Hashtaali glyphs, aside from standard. “Thought you might want the translator about now.” Fred’s tone was smug.  I’d forgotten he was monitoring our suit coms, which is how distracted I was by the proceedings.  I squinted at the reader and realized I had a mild headache.

“Can you summarize?” I asked Fred.  There was a pause as the com routed back to the ship.

“Mostly a debate about principle trade routes and who is going to harass the Garundi versus the Kerlian ships.  I think the main problem some of the captains are concerned about is the value of the amber itself.  The Kerlian may prize it, but no one else does.  The one captain who has any experience with the Garundi told them the amber is so plentiful that the Garundi can pick it up off the ground.  They use it to build houses and buildings.”

I nodded my head. “Interesting.”

The shorter Ni’chine used her riding crop to encourage her human to stand.  She rode across his broad shoulders with her thighs around his ears and her clawed feet tucked back around his midsection.  She used his blond braids like reins.  “What assurances do we have that any of our brethren here won’t go running back to either side to tell them we’re coming?”

Her voice was irritating even in translation. The claw marks across her human’s waist, sides, and back were in various stages: old, bloody, and pustulant. The smell did nothing for my headache.  I grimaced but Winter remained impassive.

L’Marchonase bowed to her.  “Lady Hrrisah, they know we are coming already. But, they don’t know when. Both sides are well aware of the escalation of hostilities.  The Altamirans brokered a peace treaty between the two systems already, with the backing of the Sambrosians and Trangee.  However, the Trangee haven’t made any attempts to calm matters.  I expect the Sambrosians were only humoring the political aspirations of the Royal Houses of Altamira.”

I felt my face flush and I glanced down at the reader to cover my reaction.  When I looked up again, Winter was studying me.  She turned back to the table and rapidly coded something into her reader. 

“Winter wishes me to ask you to look at your screen and assess the bounties on multiple targets in the room,” Fred spoke softly.

The request took me by surprise as we don’t hunt bounties often.  I minimized the information scrolling across and hooded the reader to make it difficult to watch the screen over my shoulder.  Lady Hrrisah had a steep bounty of forty thousand auran for unspecific crimes against the Realm.  Her companion, Lady Mdeeph carried a respectable thirty.  I flicked through the gallery images and recognized a few others in the room whose bounties were also impressive.  I ran across my own and discovered I was down to an insultingly low amount of twelve thousand Altamiran mira.  My father offered a staggering one hundred thousand auran when I first ran away.  I guess he realized I wasn’t coming back and relented after a while.  Still, a measly twelve thousand mira was almost shameful amongst everyone else in the room.

I chewed my lip in thought.  Surely L’Marchonase wasn’t going to keep all of these people on the payroll.  The Ni’chine was an unknown quantity, and a few of the beings in the room weren’t known for their cooperation skills.  It occurred to me that the good doctor might be correct.  Winter would be useful as a battle coordinator and potential eliminator of threats to the enterprise. I wasn’t sure what use I could be, beyond a good pep talk.

The meeting broke up shortly after that with groups wandering off to discuss the proposal or get drunk whichever was most expedient.  “Winter has asked me to ask you to find out all you can about L’Marchonase’s ship and its crew.  She suggested you start with the ship’s doctor hoving over your shoulder.”

“I’ll bet she did,” I muttered and pasted on a smile.  To him, I said, “So, you wanted to show me the bridge?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As a side note to this story, if you like it, please consider supporting me on Patreon. For a dollar a month, you have access to blog posts, occasional videos, and material either cut from the story completely or material for the next novel. I publish a lot of side material there, so please consider joining me as this trilogy of stories spools out of my head and into my fingers.

Here is the link to my Patreon account. I hope to see you there!

https://www.patreon.com/user?u=24393564 Thank you!

My next convention will be LEVEL UP in Las Vegas, Nevada. See you then!