hard
bread. Craze gobbled down double portions, his body needy after the long
hibernation.
Used to taking care of customers,
he’d prepared the food, then cleaned up after. His willingness to serve kept up
the charade that he was the lowest in rank on the Sequi. Well, that wasn’t so
much an act as he was in reality subordinate to the aviarmen.
“Not as low as the lawman thinks,”
Craze said to comfort himself. Right. He was a partner to Talos and Lepsi not a
mere lackey.
Down in the common living space, he
doused dishes with cleansing gel. He was wiping bowls and spoons dry when a
reply from Mortua came in.
The signal was weak, making the
message hard to decipher. Craze scrambled up the ladder to help, using his
better hearing to make sense of the noise. He leaned over pressing his ear
against the speaker. “He orders us to take Berth 10B.”
“Anything else?” asked Talos.
Craze listened to the repeating
missive several more times. “Nope.”
Talos waved Craze to a seat. “Get
alert, everybody. There’s some real wackos out here
on the Edge. There’s no telling what’ll be greeting us.”
The aviars maneuvered the Sequi
closer to the planet. The crags bloomed into mountain ranges and ravines,
jagged and foreboding. Ice glistened off their facades in a dark frost that
glittered only when starlight caught it. The Sequi drifted lower until the
peaks threatened to spear its hull. Craze gripped onto his seat as the ship
lurched without warning one way then the other in the air currents. The aviars
wrestled against the winds, struggling for tenuous minutes to nestle the vessel
into its assigned dock. The hiss of suction announced a secure seal.
The landing platforms and berths
ringed the outside of the dome, which appeared too flimsy to protect the inhabitants
from anything worse than a sneeze. The ship consoles read the air as cold and
thin, factors that would make Craze’s body want to hibernate. Despite his
dislike of the cramped quarters, he had even less desire to walk around Mortua .
“Maybe one of us should stay behind
‘n guard the ship,” he said.
“First Officer Lepsi will do that
once we greet the dock owner.” Talos fingered the prized pin on his lapel.
“We’ll probably need your negotiation talents, Second.”
Craze could see Talos wasn’t of a
mind to relent. Shit. Reluctantly, he followed the aviars down to the living
level and through the corridor to the hatch. Dactyl stayed close on Craze’s
heels. The door opened to reveal a stark, gray world.
The fetor of recycled air without
the introduction of anything fresh whooshed into Craze’s wide nostrils. He took
a step back, wheezing, trying to breathe only through his mouth. It didn’t
help. The air was too rank.
They walked through a short tunnel,
then into the crux of civilization on Mortua . The
clear dome arching overhead produced an eerie atmosphere, amplifying the bald
sunlight, raw and severe. The thinness of the protection made Craze feel
exposed and vulnerable, as if he’d be sucked off the surface to tumble with the
clusters of orbiting garbage for all eternity.
The hangar inside the dome could
easily accommodate five freighter-class ships. Most of the space, however, was
taken up by row after row of scrap and parts, and two partial vessels. Craze
tried to figure out whether the ships were being put back together or
disassembled, but couldn’t. Billboards winked around the perimeter, obnoxiously
advertising a code every two seconds in every color and font.
A Backworlder clad in splatters of
paint and nothing else greeted them. He was fleshy, of average height, and had
six arms. “Welcome to Mortua . Currently, I’m
refurbishing an intersystem hauler that’s not designed to go through the
Lepper. Have an old transport that is meant for Lepper travel to refit next if
you want to wait around for it. Living costs are two hundred chips per person
per day. That includes oxygen, but not water.”
Steep price for rotten
bread. Craze gobbled down double portions, his body needy after the long
hibernation.
Used to taking care of customers,
he’d prepared the food, then cleaned up after. His willingness to serve kept up
the charade that he was the lowest in rank on the Sequi. Well, that wasn’t so
much an act as he was in reality subordinate to the aviarmen.
“Not as low as the lawman thinks,”
Craze said to comfort himself. Right. He was a partner to Talos and Lepsi not a
mere lackey.
Down in the common living space, he
doused dishes with cleansing gel. He was wiping bowls and spoons dry when a
reply from Mortua came in.
The signal was weak, making the
message hard to decipher. Craze scrambled up the ladder to help, using his
better hearing to make sense of the noise. He leaned over pressing his ear
against the speaker. “He orders us to take Berth 10B.”
“Anything else?” asked Talos.
Craze listened to the repeating
missive several more times. “Nope.”
Talos waved Craze to a seat. “Get
alert, everybody. There’s some real wackos out here
on the Edge. There’s no telling what’ll be greeting us.”
The aviars maneuvered the Sequi
closer to the planet. The crags bloomed into mountain ranges and ravines,
jagged and foreboding. Ice glistened off their facades in a dark frost that
glittered only when starlight caught it. The Sequi drifted lower until the
peaks threatened to spear its hull. Craze gripped onto his seat as the ship
lurched without warning one way then the other in the air currents. The aviars
wrestled against the winds, struggling for tenuous minutes to nestle the vessel
into its assigned dock. The hiss of suction announced a secure seal.
The landing platforms and berths
ringed the outside of the dome, which appeared too flimsy to protect the inhabitants
from anything worse than a sneeze. The ship consoles read the air as cold and
thin, factors that would make Craze’s body want to hibernate. Despite his
dislike of the cramped quarters, he had even less desire to walk around Mortua .
“Maybe one of us should stay behind
‘n guard the ship,” he said.
“First Officer Lepsi will do that
once we greet the dock owner.” Talos fingered the prized pin on his lapel.
“We’ll probably need your negotiation talents, Second.”
Craze could see Talos wasn’t of a
mind to relent. Shit. Reluctantly, he followed the aviars down to the living
level and through the corridor to the hatch. Dactyl stayed close on Craze’s
heels. The door opened to reveal a stark, gray world.
The fetor of recycled air without
the introduction of anything fresh whooshed into Craze’s wide nostrils. He took
a step back, wheezing, trying to breathe only through his mouth. It didn’t
help. The air was too rank.
They walked through a short tunnel,
then into the crux of civilization on Mortua . The
clear dome arching overhead produced an eerie atmosphere, amplifying the bald
sunlight, raw and severe. The thinness of the protection made Craze feel
exposed and vulnerable, as if he’d be sucked off the surface to tumble with the
clusters of orbiting garbage for all eternity.
The hangar inside the dome could
easily accommodate five freighter-class ships. Most of the space, however, was
taken up by row after row of scrap and parts, and two partial vessels. Craze
tried to figure out whether the ships were being put back together or
disassembled, but couldn’t. Billboards winked around the perimeter, obnoxiously
advertising a code every two seconds in every color and font.
A Backworlder clad in splatters of
paint and nothing else greeted them. He was fleshy, of average height, and had
six arms. “Welcome to Mortua . Currently, I’m
refurbishing an intersystem hauler that’s not designed to go through the
Lepper. Have an old transport that is meant for Lepper travel to refit next if
you want to wait around for it. Living costs are two hundred chips per person
per day. That includes oxygen, but not water.”
Steep price for rotten
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