Hunting Teddy Bears, page 7
“What about verbal threats? Or, perhaps someone who enters has been hypnotised.”
“Like I said, it’s complicated.”
As they were speaking, two beings approached the privacy chamber. At a distance they appeared to be humans covered in multi-coloured tattoos, but as they came closer, the differences
became apparent. Their skin was orange and covered by pimples of various colours. Their eyes had two pupils and each hand had four fingers and two opposing thumbs.
Both creatures were dressed in cloaks made of a rough, simple material, but the taller one wore a thick leather belt with metal studs, and ornate chains hung around his neck. As they reached the doors to the privacy chamber, the taller one released the clasp on his belt and let
it hang loosely in his right hand. He pointed at the doors to the privacy chamber and spoke with a firm voice.”
“Enter.”
The shorter held out his hands in supplication. “I beg the mercy of Orlax.”
“Mercy is given to those who deserve it.”
“No. Please.”
“I am trying to help you,” the taller creature said. “If you do not accept your punishment now, my vows will compel me to write your name in the Book of Heretics. Every day at sunset those names are read out loud by Her Holiness, the Priestess of Orlax. Once your name is spoken, the only way to remove the shame from your family is to submit yourself to the temple fires. Is that what you want?”
The smaller creature staggered backward as if he was about to feint, but regained his footing. He stepped forward, entering the chamber as the doors slid open.
As the taller alien followed, the doors closed and became instantly opaque.
“He’s obviously going to beat him,” Coulter said, “but I doubt we’ll hear anything. If the chamber is ‘private,’ it has to be soundproof as well.”
Qeeope glanced at Coulter. “The chamber isn’t just soundproof, it’s self -cleaning too. After the timed session ends, disinfectant is sprayed through nozzles in the wall, fluids flow into
drains in the floor and the room is dried by hot air. Bodies are removed if necessary. Like I said, you can’t be arrested for anything you do in a privacy chamber.”
Qeeope tapped Coulter on the shoulder. “Wait here, I’ll go check the lists and find where the freighter is docked.”
Coulter found a bench nearby, and had just sat down, when he heard the whirring sound of an electric motor. Moving towards him was a creature on a small disk-like vehicle, with one wheel. The creature used its tentacles, hanging over the sides of the disk, to maintain its balance. As it stopped in front of Coulter, its ring of tentacles settling on the ground.
The creature smiled at Coulter. “Greetings young human. Borax I am, and Coulter you are.”
Coulter didn’t return the smile. “How do you know my name?”
“Borax has an associate who helps him..”
“Giving out confidential information is illegal.”
Borax moved closer and spoke softly. “What I supply my associate is also illegal. She always wants more, and Borax always wants more information.”
“In that case,” Coulter said, “you two can share the same jail cell.”
Borax laughed. “Legal, illegal, right, wrong, good, bad; these words have no meaning. Everything is legal, or illegal somewhere. There are only two questions that need to be answered; ‘What does Coulter want?’ and ‘How can Borax provide?’”
“I don’t want anything,” Coulter replied. “Everyone wants something. Besides, Coulter has no idea what Borax has to offer. Walk
with me, and we can take a private shuttle to my ship. If Coulter doesn’t like what Borax shows him, he simply returns to the space station. No obligation.”
“The problem is, as soon as the shuttle leaves the dock, you aren’t protected by the laws of the space station.” Qeeope stood behind Borax, his arms folded.
“Borax will sell you to the fighting cages,” Qeeope continued, “or to one of the travelling sex shows, for the highest bidder. In fact, since humans are a relatively new species in deep space, he’ll get an excellent price for you.”
Borax’s tentacles started to curl, but he pushed them back down to maintain his balance. “Your Jorloxian friend leaves out the most important details. Borax and his team can train you to be the greatest fighter in the universe. You’ll become famous, and have more credits that you can possibly imagine.”
“Unless,” replied Qeeope, “Coulter gets addicted to one of drugs used to keep him fighting when injured. Eventually he fights for free, as long as you keep supplying him with the drug.”
Coulter laughed. “I’ll pass on the fighting cages.”
The end of Borax’s tentacles where turning a bright purple. “Perhaps you do not wish to fight, that I understand. But only a fool would reject the opportunity to become wealthy, while enjoying the pleasures of the flesh.”
“Coulter would only enjoy himself,” Qeeope said, “until he caught Versoles Disease, or something worse. Although I doubt there’s anything worse.”
Coulter glanced at Qeeope. “Versoles Disease? They never mentioned that at the Academy.”
Borax shook with anger. “Borax can make you rich! Don’t pass up the opportunity of a lifetime, just because the Jorloxian wants to poison your mind with fear.”
Qeeope smiled. “Why don’t you describe Versoles Disease?”
Borax mumbled something that Coulter’s translator couldn’t decipher, then turned, and disappeared in the crowd, the sound of the electric motor becoming fainter.
Qeeope looked at Coulter. “Versoles worms develop in the genitals and flow throughout the body in the blood stream. They eat you from the inside out. Borax is a rich flesh dealer and the worst piece of slime in the universe.”
“He wanted me to go on his shuttle.”
“His main vessel never docks,” Qeeope continued. “He doesn’t want to give authorities the legal right to board his vessel. The planets where Borax trades don’t care what you do, or who you do it to, as long as you pay bribes to the local government.”
“Now, I’m definitely becoming paranoid.”
“Good,” replied Qeeope, “you might just survive. Let’s go talk to the Captain, and get off this station. Just breathing the same air as Borax makes me want to vomit.”
As they were about to leave, the two creatures stepped out of the privacy chamber. The shorter one had welts and cuts over his face and hands. The taller one placed a hand on the shorter one’s shoulder. “You have paid the price for your transgressions. You are forgiven, go forth in the Light or Orlax.”
“I don’t think I’ll join that denomination,” Coulter said.
The elevator that Qeeope and Coulter entered had clear walls, which allowed Coulter a glimpse of the immense size of the space station. There were so many different species, every size, shape and colour imaginable. And the food... you could spend endless hours walking past
the restaurants, cafeterias, and kiosks, breathing in the aromas of a million different spices, from every corner of the universe.
Qeeope had mentioned that the idle rich of the universe would often purchase an apartment on a space station, and never leave. That wasn’t hard to imagine, because if you had enough credits, there was no limit to how you could entertain yourself; gambling, every type of virtual reality immersion you could think of, theatre, live music, and just as many brothels as religions. You could eat a meal at one of the restaurants, and then head to an exercise facility to burn off the calories.
Coulter felt overwhelmed, struggling to process everything around him. He had never imagined the learning curve could be this steep.
Qeeope looked up at the young human. “It isn’t what you know that allows you to survive in deep space, it’s how fast you adapt, to what you don’t know.”
“I’m trying,” replied Coulter.
Qeeop shrugged. “You’ll be fine. Only fools think they know everything.”
Six levels higher, they found a type of train, travelling on a magnetic rail imbedded in the floor. It wasn’t called a streetcar, but that was as close as his universal translator could manage.
Qeeope read his mind. “Don’t try and pronounce it, Coulter, you’ll just hurt yourself.”
As they approached the docking area, tourist shops selling knickknacks were replaced by stores selling parts and supplies for cargo vessels. Upscale restaurants filled with wealthy tourists were replaced by cafeterias overflowing with maintenance crews dressed in overalls. Qeeope explained that the housing units for maintenance crews, and other space station staff, were located above the docking level.
Seeing so many different species, working in various occupations, was something Coulter would have to get used to. When an alien species was discussed at the Academy, the photo or video usually showed them wearing traditional clothing; it was all about what made their culture unique. Here, they wore chef’s outfits, security uniforms, maintenance overalls, and business attire.
Coulter noticed that there were young of various species, wearing uniforms with the space station logo. He turned to Qeeope. “If you’re raising young on the space station, where do they go to school?”
“If you want to take a curriculum that’s specific for your type of species, you can study with a virtual instructor from your home world. But most young take a Universal Education Certificate. With the Certificate, you can continue studying at a college, or start in an apprenticeship program just about anywhere.”
“So, it’s like finishing high school on Earth,” Coulter added.
“I’ll take your word for that,” Qeeope replied, “haven’t been to Earth yet.”
“Have most of the species learned to live together, peacefully?”
“Yeah, most have, but some species have to be kept separate,” Qeeope replied. “If you’ve been taught from birth that another species hates you, or insults your gods, you aren’t going to forget about it, just because you’re in a classroom.”
“The universe sounds like it’s just a larger version of Earth.”
Qeeope nudged Coulter with an elbow. “This is our stop.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Leaving the streetcar behind, Coulter followed Qeeope down a long corridor. As they reached the end, they arrived at a clear wall, with a large cargo vessel behind the docking entry. Two tubes extended to the ship, the smaller one allowed crew members to enter and exit, the larger tube was used by forklifts moving materials into the cargo hold.
As they approached the vessel a black woman in her thirties, with a scar over her left eye, stepped out of the crew tube. Captain Pamela Mackay was standing next to her first officer, Kriss. “Qeeope,” she asked, “is this the new crewmember? You said he was inexperienced, you didn’t mention he’s still in diapers!”
“I may not have a lot of experience Captain,” replied Coulter, “but I graduated from the Space Academy in Calgary.”
The Captain shared a glance with her android, First Officer. “What do you think Kriss?”
“Humans aren’t the most efficient species to hire as crewmembers,” replied Kriss, “but we should probably give him a chance to prove himself.” “That’s as close as a compliment you’ll receive from my First Officer. I’m Pamela MacKay, Captain of the Challenger. If you ever call me Pam, I’ll have Kriss eject you out of an airlock.”
“Yes, Captain.”
“If you work hard and impress me, you’ll be part of a crew that always makes a profit. Who knows? After a few years in deep space, you may have enough experience to teach at the Space Academy.”
Qeeope pointed at the Captain’s face. “When are you going to get that scar taken care of Captain? I know some excellent plastic surgeons.”
“Why would I? The scar reminds me that I’m human. I don’t want to look like some stupid machine.”
The Captain turned to the Kriss. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”
Kriss shrugged. “I’m an android, I have no feelings.”
“You’re the ugliest pile of bolts and wires I’ve ever seen.”
“That hurt.”
Captain Mackay smiled.
Nearby, a species with blue skin, wearing bright yellow capes, started making loud hissing noises. The Captain walked over to the steel barrels they were inspecting. “What’s the problem?”
One of them pointed at the barrels, which had their lids removed. “That is the problem!”
“Both parties requested that the barrels remain sealed,” the Captain said, “so I left them sealed.”
The creature slapped it’s bald head, and hissed loudly. “That’s because we didn’t want anyone to see what was inside, and be tempted to steal. Barrels were to be filled with precious gems, but they are filled with nothing but rocks!”
“Do the seal numbers match the information on the packing list?” the Captain asked.
“They match.”
“Can you see any evidence of tampering?”
“There has been no tampering by your crew. The barrels were filled with rocks, by those who lied to us. We give you no blame, but we have lost many credits. They must pay with blood.”
“I want to keep doing business with you,” Captain MacKay replied, “so as a sign of good faith, I’ll take the barrels with me. I’ll dispose of the rocks for you. I just want you to know...I had no idea the seller was going to rip you off. Once I agree to accept a sealed shipment, I leave it sealed until it reaches its destination. I’m taking a risk as well; I might be carrying something illegal, or some unstable element that could vaporize my ship and crew.”
“As we have said, we don’t blame Captain MacKay.”
The Captain walked back to Qeeope and Coulter. “Just be glad you aren’t the guys who packed the barrels with rocks. You’d be slowly dissolved in acid.”
Coulter stared at the Captain. “Did you say, ‘slowly dissolved in acid?’”
The Captain leaned close to Coulter and whispered in his ear. “There are worse ways to die in deep space.”
The tour began with the propulsion system. The Captain stopped at a digital readout that rated the vessel’s power output and pointed at a small warning light next to it. “If you’re familiar with this type of drive, you should know what it means when this orange light flashes.”
“When the orange light flashes,” Coulter replied, “it means you’re at the point where the propulsion system can overheat and explode.”
The Captain turned to the android. “Kriss, how long have we run with the orange light flashing?”
“Three hours.”
Coulter opened his mouth to speak, but decided that silence was a better option.
“We do whatever it takes to deliver cargo to our customers, on time,” the Captain continued. “We were running behind schedule, so we crossed through Armax territory and ended up being chased by one of their border patrol vessels. It was either let the orange light blink for three hours, or spend the rest of our lives in prison.”
A creature about the same height as Coulter’s shoulder paused as it walked down a corridor next to the propulsion section. The Captain introduced him. “Keelatt, our navigator. This is Coulter, he’ll be working with Conzel.”
Keelatt’s red skin was covered with criss-crossing ridges. Coulter couldn’t place the name of his species, but he remembered that when their ears started flapping, it was the same as a human cursing.
“I overheard your conversation, Captain.” Keelatt said. “I can’t even begin to list how many navigation laws I broke that time. I was a respectable, law-abiding citizen of the universe, before I joined this crew.”
The Captain put an arm around Keelatt’s shoulders. “This law-abiding citizen was once a navigator on a cruise ship. When I told him how much he could earn on the Challenger, he joined this jolly crew without hesitation. He doesn’t like to admit he’s greedy, so he blames it all on us.”
Without saying another word, Keelatt turned and walked away, his wide ears flapping.
“What happens if you miss a delivery deadline?” Coulter asked.
“Qeeope’s the expert on that subject,” replied the Captain. “I rely on him to negotiate our delivery fees. He relies on me to get him out alive, if things don’t work out as planned.”
Qeeope spoke as they continued walking. “If you miss a deadline, some species will give you a second chance, and they won’t even charge you a penalty for the first missed deadline. Other species will charge you a penalty for being late the first time, and cancel any future contracts. And, with some species, you’re better off dead, than missing a deadline.
Coulter was curious. “What could be worse than death?”
“You could be added to a head collection,” Qeeope answered.
“A head collection?”
“Your head,” Qeeope continued, “is placed on a stand that supplies all the oxygen and
nutrients needed to keep your brain alive. Your head sits on a shelf, along with the rest of the collection, until you die of old age.”
Coulter had no reply.
The Captain stopped and held out her hand. “So, Coulter, do you still want to join the crew of the Challenger? Don’t shake my hand unless you’re serious. I’m old fashioned, I consider your handshake, your word.”
Qeeope looked up at Coulter. “There are other options. You’d have no problem finding work on one of the cruise ships, if that’s what you really want. With your training, you’ll be able to monitor the propulsion systems that are always kept in the safe zone, never pushed to their limits. No danger. No risk.”
Qeeope motioned for Coulter to lean down, and whispered in his ear. “But you won’t complete your mission.”
Coulter shook the Captain’s hand. She nodded, and tapped the a small communication device on her left wrist. “Hey, Conzel.”
“At your service. What can I do for you Captain?”
“We have a new crewmember, meet us at the Airlock on deck three.”
“I’m on my way.”
Qeeope slapped Coulter on the arm. “ Time to go, I have to look busy , before the Captain makes me do some real work.”
