(Covalex shipping platform Xenia in the Baker system, June 17, 2943)
Across the room somewhere behind me I hear someone say just loudly enough, "Who let the slink in here?" followed by a bit of hostile laughter.
I look towards the entrance and sure enough, striding powerfully towards me is Kree'Gna, my friend and sometimes partner.
I rise and offer a modest bow, "Kree'Gna, Shē'sueren."
I see his expression change to what I know is his version of a warm smile, "Shawn Ryan, Shē'sueren."
I step away from my chair and offer it to him as the eldest present. "I would be honored if you would take my place."
He nods in return and replies, "I would be honored if we agree all chairs are equal among friends. Please, keep your seat today."
"Thank you. Will you sit, my friend?"
He does and I then resume my seat.
"How have you been?" I ask while signaling to the waitress that I would now like her service.
"Chash'anori (Pretty good). Business has been much as usual. And you?"
"Chash'ambosari (Good enough). Had to get the 315p replaced after it got shot up on a guard run, but the new one will be fine once the replacement upgrades get in. You having your usual?"
"Yes, if they have it."
The younger waitress arrives. Okay, younger is a state of mind... let's just say I'm old enough to be her dad and leave it at that. She knows me and has at least met Kree'Gna before, so she isn't shy and knows I'm not going to hit on her. Not that she isn't hot, you understand, but I already know I'm too old for her tastes.
"Mariel, have you met Kree'Gna?"
"Yeah, TOG, I... er... yes, I have had the honor." She remembers her courtesies and offers a slight bow his way.
"This will all be on my tab," I explain before Kree'Gna has a chance to do the same.
He smiles, "Are you sure? I've been eating Torreele and our version for weeks... I have quite the appetite for real food."
I smile and look up at the woman waiting with her orderglas, "Two of your best 600 gram porterhouse, boneless and raw, with Xi'rrahn sauce and a pitcher of Glee'ha for my friend and I'll have that half kilo prime rib, medium well, small red potatoes, no other veggies, and one of your Earth Guiness pint bottles, cold."
She checks that the voice recognition on her glas has gotten the order right, makes a correction of some sort, and looks up, "Will there be any desert?"
"Let's wait until we've finished, but maybe."
Mariel smiles indulgently and nods. "I'll get right on it, TOG," she says before whirling away.
"I will never get used to that, Shawn Ryan."
"What's that, Kree'Gna?"
"So many use your call name to acknowledge you in conversation."
"Well, I figure it's good for business. Since 'TOG' means 'The Old Guy', folks know that it is most likely me."
The Xi'An's laughter is more guttural than ours, but it is merry nevertheless, "Old? You are a young lizard even compared to me."
"Yeah, but there aren't many other graybeards among our pilots, now are there?" Laughing, I add, "Besides, if I were green, my laugh lines wouldn't show as well."
He laughs again, "Oh, forgive me. I thought they were just wrinkles from you wearing out..." He pauses, than asks with sudden seriousness, "Would you rather I call you 'TOG' also?"
"No, my friend. I am most honored that you pronounce my name."
Nodding again, he replies, "Yes, Shawn Ryan is a name known to come with honor by the many traders of the Xi'An."
I bow a bit to acknowledge his compliment and respond, "Just as Kree'Gna is known as a Xi'An of the highest intellect and courtesy by the corps and pilots between here and Terra."
Mariel has returned with our meals and as the smells waft on the gentle air currents, we share a moment of appreciation before each digs in with gusto.
…..
"So, I wish to inquire if your new craft is available for an escort run?"
"Well, I still need the upgraded jets and my scanners are still the stock ones... you in a slug or something faster?"
"I am flying a Xress, can you keep up?"
"Oooh, the sleek new thing? I thought they only made what we call 'racers'."
He chuckles, or at least that's what the sound he is making translates into. "You are observant, Shawn Ryan. And if you did not waste your income on poor investments, you would have the like also, would you not?"
Ouch. "My tea plantation is a good investment."
"You refuse to use slaves and you pay your workers too much. Have you ever made a profit?"
"Well... no, but my white jasmine is even appreciated at the Xi'An court, isn't it?"
"Yes, of course. But only by the females."
I blow a raspberry at him.
"Ah, the maturity of your race. Perhaps you should not finish your ale."
"Stout," I shake my head. "Guinness is a 'stout'." He is right, though. I seem to be a little lighter headed than I expect.
"So, Shawn Ryan, the question still stands: can you keep up?"
"Can you wait a day to at least let me get my main thruster right?
He looks thoughtful, "I will only wait a sleep. Maybe sixteen hours?" He pauses then asks, "Perhaps I should check for another. Would you mind, my friend?"
I look down at my glas; it shows that the shuttle with my parts should be here in three hours, installation is nine if I do it solo, but I could halve that if I hire some help. If the parts don't make it in time, I'll stash them in my little cargo box and put them on later. Glancing back up at him, I can tell from the expression that he knows I'm at a disadvantage right now; I think he's trying to give me a way to save face. "My friend, I would fly your wing any time, but your Xress has at least a half percent of light speed more than I can be sure of... I would be an anchor unless you can leave me if we get in trouble."
He considers my position. "If I am willing to accept that risk, are you?"
I smile, "Yes, Kree'Gna. I will be your wing."
"You are a good human and a good friend, Shawn Ryan. I trust you and am glad for your protection."
"Then I'll be ready with whatever I have in six hours."
I reach for my Guinness and watch his eyes track the bottle all the way to my lips. "Is that wise?" He asks just before I can take a swallow.
He is going to be depending on me soon... "Perhaps not," I admit as I lower the remains to the tabletop.
While I'm paying the bill, I hear another meal-head mutter "slink" as well as some other even less savory words. I glance at Kree-Gna and am once again impressed that he is impassive to the remarks; not that many decades ago, he might have expressed himself with some impressive physical or verbal display.
"You have matured with grace, my friend," I opine as we walk to the exit.
He looks briefly my way and replies, "Thank you."
Out into the long gallery we go. I can't see his craft, but in border stations they often segregate Xi'An to their own area.
We turn to face each other. "So, Shawn Ryan, I will be on our green-blue link. I can leave whenever your craft is space-worthy."
"Thank you for your consideration, Kree'Gna. Blue-green it is," I smirk.
He grins and allows himself a moment to roll his eyes, "Green-blue."
I smile in return. Bowing, I offer, "Kree'Gna, athle-korr."
He returns the bow, "Shawn Ryan, athlē-korr."
I wince as I realize I mispronounced it... again. "Sorry, didn't mean to butcher the 'ē' again."
Uncharacteristically, he reaches out and drops his hand on my shoulder, "It is enough to me that you work so hard trying to learn it. There was a time when you couldn't be bothered."
"I'm glad you didn't give up on me."
"It is no big deal, my friend. We are both learning that these things take time."
"Yup. See you in a while."
"Gath." With that he turns and strides away.
I, too, turn to where my new 315p sits waiting for a name and her maiden flight.
…..
"Not a lot of room on her, is there?" Danny Marsten, the tech I've hired to help asks.
"Nope. Don't really need it," I answer.
"You must be one of them courier types?"
"Escort on occasion."
"What's in the pylon pods?" he asks. "They ain't stock."
I'm starting to get annoyed by the questions. "Just things to help me stay alive."
"Oh. I see."
"Hold that side steady, Ok?" I'm trying to get the thruster to afterburner adapter collar lined up with the retaining bolts, but it just seems bent on driving me nuts... pun not intended.
"Yeah, just tell me where."
"Up a centimeter." I can see the opening becoming less occluded, there... ooops, "Too far. Back up just a smidge."
"What the heck is a smidge?"
"Start with a hair."
He does and stands there waiting.
"One more."
Now the hole is almost perfectly aligned, I jam the bolt against the threads and try to start it. YES! Turning it enough times for it to hold if we slip while getting another one in. Moving to the other side, I'm almost face to face with the freckled teen holding up his end of the bargain.
"Ok, up a millimeter or so?"
It moves and Danny asks, "You're pretty old for a pilot, aren't you?"
"Yup. That's why the call me TOG."
"Terribly Ornery Goat?"
I chuckle. "Up another millimeter. And no, 'The Old Guy', though if I had thought of it I might have gone with your guess."
"Bob in parts guessed that."
Thinking of the ways the named gentleman converses, "I'm surprised that Bob in parts wasn't a bit more salty or creative. One more millimeter up." The hole aligns and I repeat establishing a firm bolt to thread relationship. "Got it."
"You going out in her soon?"
"Yeah, need to give her a shakedown, but I need a nap, too. Here's your hundred," I add as I make the transfer on the mobiglas.
His chimes and once he sees the deposit, he is grinning like a teenager. No, he is one... er... he is grinning like a well paid prost... um, no, bad example... how about grinning like a Master's Champion. Well I hope that example will do; in the time I've wasted getting my example correct, he has headed off with the credits all but literally burning a hole in his pocket.
I settle into the pilot's chair and lay the chip with my AI software onto a connection pad. Okay, it isn't a truly smart, self aware AI, but it has an exhaustive database of serious and not so much so info, status, and pseudo conversational quips and comments, professionally voice recorded by the guy who played the "famous" voicecaster Duncan Fischer from my favorite pastime game. The program loads and a flat voice announces, "Spacecraft Voice companion with George Ledoux. To install, say 'Install'."
"Install."
The voice changes to the more familiar one, "Do you want a complete install, or the more complex version of the whole thing for morons who think 'complete' and 'the whole thing' are different?"
"Just do it."
"Complete installation commencing. You know, there are a lot of folks who like the sound of my voice; you're obviously one of those smart ones. Why I can..."
I press the mute button and watch the ancillary app display as it indicates the amount completed. When it is almost complete, I unmute it.
"... was completely fried! What a loon. Oh, your installation is complete, ready for setup?"
"Yeah, give it to me."
"Pilot name?"
"Shawn." The screen voice-types it correctly.
There is a pause, then the program says "Shawn?" in Duncan Fisher's voice.
"Yup. Next."
"Banter on?"
"Yes, please."
"Banter termination phrase?"
"Bite m e."
"Confirmed. Duration?"
"One minute."
"No banter mode?"
"Yes, 'Combat mode'."
"Confirmed. Do you wish to run the cockpit security menu?"
"Yes, set up voice authorization."
"Greeting or pass-phrase first?"
"Greeting, use number 14."
"Well, it's about time you got you fat ass into the chair."
"Well, who died and made you boss?"
"Confirmed. Further challenges?"
"Yes, number 71."
"You don't look like a pilot to me, you best jump back out before the real boss shows up and kicks your sorry rump."
"Bite m e, Duncan."
"Confirmed. Further challenges?"
"No."
"Welcome ack?"
"Yes, standard."
"Welcome back, Shawn."
"That works for me."
"Confirmed. Continue with security menu?"
"Yes..."
We go through the complete setup, my program and I. Duncan has "been with" since '26, cockpit doesn't seem the same without him. Once the installation is complete, I return the chip to my glas case. This bird still has that new ship smell, need to correct that soon, but at least I will feel more at home now that Duncan will be there to launch with me when I follow Kree'Gna out.
…..
"I didn't think those things took so much fuel," the attendant monitoring my pumping seems a bit more curious than I would like.
"Yeah, I'm flooding my cargo space, don't you know?"
He looks at me like I must be daft, then catches the implied humor and just shakes his head.
I continue, "I bet they put a larger tank on the new models when we get the afterburner package."
He kinda shrugs while nodding, effectively saying, "Whatever... I could care less as long as you have the credits to pay for it."
I hear the warning beeps and stop fueling. There are several things to do while disconnecting, and I do them all while still under Mr. Nosey's overly watchful eye. He checks that my account pays the station, nods almost in my direction, and heads off to pursue whatever is more interesting than me finishing my preflight.
With the exception of my more powerful sensors and the thruster upgrade I installed a little while ago, the insurance has indeed replaced the entire ship. No, it isn't an M50, but then again, I didn't have an M50 to start with. Somehow, the idea of that sleek Origin racer brings me back to Kree'Gna's Xress... he and I started out all but broke with just one ship between us, my Advocacy provided 315p, and just his knowledge of the Xi'An embassy and consulate courier needs. I don't even remember how we got together in that state... no, wait, I do remember.
I had tried to bounty hunt my way across the sector without thinking about the difference between collecting bounties and repairing equipment shot up while trying to bag the folks those bounties were for. I was sitting in a Covalex speedbump, one quite a bit smaller than this one, trying to decide if I should just sell the bird and use the proceeds to buy a farm somewhere... or maybe even a small deep-water sailboat on Terra. I seem to remember I had ordered the cheapest thing on the menu and gotten something Xi'An; it looked like a cross between week old road-kill and something a cat might offer.
As I sat there wondering what the hell the waiter had brought, who should happen upon my table but a rather hungry young Xi'An who begged for half. Hey, I figured, "Why let food go to waste?" and gave him the whole meal. Let's be honest: the donation gave me a good excuse to order something I could eat and it somehow gave me a friend when I otherwise had none. He had had some kind of trouble with the crew he had been working for, and they had stranded him without pay. He was too proud to send word back home; though I have always wondered that he wasn't too proud to ask if I would share my... er... whatever it was.
Bet you've guessed already, that was a much younger Kree'Gna. Somehow, while he ate, I let myself just talk... comfort from strangers and all that. Heck, I bet if you had asked me, I would simply have said I was getting my money's worth and I sure never expected to see the greenie again. I didn't even think he was listening until he said, "You have fed me and taken me into your confidence. I am honored at such trust from a human. I am named Kree'Gna."
"Oh, um... I'm Shawn Ryan. Pleased to meet you, Kree-Na."
I remember that his expression changed, I now know he was smiling, but then I had no clue. He responded with something like, "I am also honored to know your name, Shawn Ryan. And my name is Kree'... Gna... more glottal stop at the start of the Gna."
I remember how quaint it sounded when he spoke, he seemed to double the first sound in each sentence and the first sound in my name, too... but not his. I understand it a bit better now, but at the time is was my first face to face with one of his kind. I tried the second part of his name again, "Gna?"
"Yes. Kree'Gna."
"Kree'Gna?"
"You learn quickly."
"It's my first Xi'An name."
"You have a Xi'An name?"
I chuckled while thinking this might be harder than it seemed.
"No, no, your's is the first Xi'An name I have learned."
I remember that he made what seemed incongruous sounds that seemed a cross between grunts and pants, now I know they were just part of what laughter sounds like.
"If you do not know many Xi'An, why did you order..." well, he said something there but I'll be shot if I can remember what to tell you... it was at least the name of the 'food' I had originally ordered. Anyway, I had no clue what to tell him, so I just admitted what happened.
Solemnly, he responded, "You have not lied. Again, you have shown greater honor than most of your kind. You said you have a ship; do you have enough fuel to reach the border?"
"The Xi'An border?"
"Yes. If we can get to an embassy or consulate, I will get you work if you will have it."
"Just like that?"
"Well, I would go with you as a partner. When we have made enough to go our own ways, we go."
I thought over my lack of options. "I won't run contraband," I insisted.
"No, just courier contracts. Are you interested?"
"Well, does it pay for more than fuel?"
Again, the grunt/pant thing as he laughed, "Yes, Shawn Ryan, it pays us well."
"Well, then, Kree'Gna, I guess that makes us partners."
We actually flew together for several years, first with him as my copilot and later with him in his own craft. He was always shrewd with his income, while I... er... well, didn't invest wisely when I invested at all. Anyway, we have been friends and sometimes a team many times since... much as this run promises to be.
…..
This is one of those things I never get tired of; I'm sitting about a kilometer off Xenia's lower shipping bays, facing out at the stars. I've done the quick checkout shakedown and everything seems to work, but I haven't called Kree'Gna yet. It is always the same; sitting in the cockpit in space after having been on the ground or otherwise not out here, even if it has only been a few days, and suddenly I'm just an awestruck kid all over again.
Most of the familiar constellations are different here, but the Blazing Banner still reaches across my vision like sand made of billions of fiery embers. Somewhere down and to my right is Earth, Terra is just above my eye-level and almost straight ahead... albeit many dozens of light years out.
"Radio check? Are you asleep, Shawn?" Duncan asks with a rather impatient tone.
"Sure am. You're imagining my answer."
"No, I'm imagining going somewhere."
"I'm enjoying the view."
"Whew... for a minute there I thought you said you were enjoying the view... no, wait... that IS what you said."
"Yup."
"As in not moving."
"Correct."
"Okay, I want to be installed in someone else's ship, you're batty."
"Bite m e."
Silence returns.
Unfortunately, the spell has been broken. I type the keys for each color code onto my right controlglas, finishing just as Duncan speaks up again, "Codes entered for seven color sequences. Now, do you actually mean to use them or should I call for someone to explain them to you?"
"You're in rare form today."
"It is the 16.7.02 upgrade: more banter, more me."
"Ah, well, I guess that works."
"Of course it does. It's me... unlike some pilots I know."
"Open comm one with sequence green-blue."
"Opened."
I key comm one and ask, "Kree'Gna? Are you on the sequence yet?"
Almost as if he has been sitting with his hand on the key, he instantly replies, "Yes, Shawn Ryan. Are we ready to depart now?"
"I'm stationary a kilometer off the main bay. She checks out for simple tests, might as well get to the real shakedown cruise."
"Affirmative. Heading out now."
Almost before I know he is there, the exotic shape of the Xress is floating just above and to my left.
"Transmitting route."
I see the transfer indicator and then the stellar map updates with a clean path. Five jumps out and back to the northwest Terran jumppoint, piece of cake.
"Got it, just remember I only have the one class 4."
"Afterburner?"
"Yup. Extra fuel in the pylons."
"You get your fancy thruster nozzle in?"
"Mounted and ready."
"Then let us roll and rock."
"Rock and roll?"
"Whatever."
There is something of a flash as he accelerates, leaving a glowing fusion trail. Throttle up, I feel the Gs shove me back against the seat. She handles like a 315p, just smells too new. I'll grab something on Terra to freshen her up a bit.
I don't catch him right away, Xi'An seem to handle higher Gs better than we humans and I hate the military style pressure suits... but I still make four and stay in the power curve until I gain on him. At about three hundred meters, I feather the throttle and take a standard wing right, staying roughly as far to his right as I am behind... kinda the far point of an isosceles right triangle.
"First jumppoint in 137.4 stamin (standard minutes)."
"Copy. The new bird is trim and stiff. Stable wing right."
"Very good.
…..
We are making our turn-around jump after receiving some kind of transmission from the vicinity of Shorvu. There is the rush of insane motion, hurricanes of light, tornadoes of colors... along with that ever present sense of evading something. I have the sense of a most complex symphony married to the blistering pace of a maglev bullet train.
Almost before it can be appreciated, it's over.
"Clean here, Go for next."
"Copy, Clean here, go f..." I stop mid sentence and make the call, "Two, no, four pings almost on top of us dead ahead, Burner ready."
"My lead, throttles up."
The Xress pulls quickly away, I have the throttles open and am at two gs before we hear the hail, "Alien vessel, stand to and prepare to be boarded." The three Cutlasses are firing, but rather wildly, they didn't expect us to be running through them. I can't quite make out what the other ship is, but there are muzzle flashes there, too.
"I do think you have pirates on your ass," Duncan remarks.
Without keying, I reply, "Combat mode, Duncan. Aft shields at half."
"Confirmed. Banter off."
I'm at three Gs and we have them trailing as they turn and try to regain ground. My acceleration is still slow compared to the trail ghost of Kree'Gna's Xress, but I'm at four G and still haven't kicked the afterburners. The gentle corrections to keep any long range lasers from testing my shields are barely noticeable.
"Missile launch detected."
"Thanks." I have to feather the throttle until the Gs subside just a bit... okay, down to 3.5. The missiles are getting closer, but I'm not exactly parked right now, either. "Duncan, Alert me when the missiles are at three hundred meters.
"280 meters already."
Now I punch the burners... "HeeHaw!" I yell through the hot general comms for the benefit of our pursuit. They are about to see their prey and their munitions disappear in what will look like a blaze of glory as the missiles melt and detonate in my super-heated burner wash.
"One missile detonation. Correction, two."
"How many more, Duncan?"
"I have just two, threshold is back a ways after the burner."
I let off the burner and recognize that I have neither passed out nor caught Kree'Gna. On our sequence, "So far so good, boss. Two missiles down, two more still in pursuit."
"You are way back there." Kree'Gna offers. "Run out of fuel?"
"Nope, want to roast the darts so no one else gets them by accident."
"Are they onto you yet?"
"The darts or the slugs?"
He laughs over the channel, then, "The slugs, you should have no trouble with the darts."
"Nah, they're amateurs. They were all facing the wrong way, no one prepivoted for pursuit if we broke through. I think..."
Duncan interrupts, "Missile at 300 meters."
"Hang on a minute, Kree'Gna. It's roasting time." With my finger off the comm key, I ask, "Duncan, how far back is the second one?"
"342 and closing."
"As fast as the first."
"They are closing at the same speed."
"Great, let me know when the second one gets to 300."
While I wait, I check the rear view for the other ships, but we're all traveling at full bore and I don't see them.
"Second missile at 300 meters."
"Thank you, Duncan." I kick the burners again, and we likewise lunge forward: I am but a blurry streak across the sky.
"Both missiles have detonated."
"Copy." I leave the burner on until I'm at the 315p's frame max, then let it off. The fuel has held well, I may not need all the extra I put on, but it is a lot nicer to outrun the enemy than come up short.
"We seem to be in the clear," I state to my partner.
"Good, next jump point now 322 stamin."
"Probably three twenty-nine for me."
"No, I am slowing just enough for you to catch me in seven stamin."
"Works for me."
It seems we lucked out, this time through. Where, oh where will the next challenge be?
…..
The Xi'An Embassy is a floating tumble of elliptical shapes, reminding me most of the way some mountains rise behind others. The only thing missing from the scene is a waterfall... well, actually, the way some of the lights link and stretch out, it really takes care of that visual element, too.
The remainder of our trip here was uneventful. These are main lanes and there have been a fair number of Agents and Naval patrols out. I'm keeping a respectful distance from the embassy, casually watching the bay Kree'Gna entered maybe ten minutes ago.
"So, you back to being boring again?" Duncan quips.
"Yup, that's me; boring, boring, boring."
"You can say that again."
"Yup, that's me; boring..."
"Forget I said that, please don't say it again."
I think Duncan's new version is indeed "smarter"... at least the heuristics recognize sarcasm and have comebacks appropriate to even more sophisticated snideness.
"Duncan, please set autopilot to station-keeping, I need to step in back."
"Copy. Position locked in. Gentle-float station-keeping is engaged."
I unbuckle from the seat and stretch my legs. With gravity off, magnets keep me on the floor until I make the head, then the seatbelt does the trick. Feeling better, the bunk calls and I fall for the chance at a quick nap.
"Duncan, wake me if Kree'Gna calls or anything serious comes up."
"Understood."
The gentle sounds of the ship and the occasional thruster firing are a lullaby and the containment sheet is a zero G womb... in moments, my eyes close and I relax.
…..
"Shawn Ryan, are you there?"
I'm half awake, still in the bunk.
"Shawn Ryan, you are being hailed by Kree'Gna." Duncan doesn't exactly shout, but the volume is up enough that short of deafness, I will wake completely... and I'm not deaf.
"Yeah, okay, patch me through."
"Done as requested."
"Kree'Gna? I was taking a nap, let me get back into the seat."
"No problem, Shawn Ryan," comes the reply.
Back in the saddle, "Yeah, boss, what's up?"
"I am required here for at least 72 hours, can you entertain yourself for that long?"
"I'll flash over to the corp island for fuel, grub, and gravity. Want to meet me there or have me back at a certain time?"
"I will meet you there or update you if the situation changes. Is that acceptable, Shawn Ryan?"
"Works for me, Kree'Gna."
"Should you be offered other work, please let me know but don't feel like you need to sit and wait for me. Do you still use the same credits account?"
"Yup."
"Good. Sending payment for your efforts to date... now."
"Thanks. Talk with you soon. Kree'Gna, athlē-korr."
"Shawn Ryan, athlē-korr."
…..
"Well, aren't you sweet?" the waitress comments more than asks.
I'm on the public orbital platform with the local runners, hangers-on, and riffraff. I've just tossed out a meaningless compliment to this thirty-something woman, but now I almost think she's flirting with me. "Well, Ma'am, whether I am or not, you sure are."
She has a wide smile that almost seems genuine and she is doing what we used to call batting her eyelashes.
"Why thank you, kind sir. Now, what'll you have?"
"That depends..." She is quite attractive, might be worth a risk. "You interested in dinner later?"
Her expression changes to a look I know all too well: condescension. "No offense, I'm sure you're important and all that, but I'm like seriously NOT into old."
"Okkkkaayyyy," I accept the rebuff, I've heard something like it often enough. "How about the Indigoberry pancakes with a side of bacon?"
Her smile returns, "Two strips or four?"
"I'll be bad, give me four. Oh, no syrup on the pancakes, just several bags of 2sweet."
"And anything to drink?"
"Distilled water if you have it."
"We do. Any desert?"
"Nah, the bacon is my indulgence this time."
"I'll get right on it." She smiles and walks off.
My mobi chimes and does it's little vibrating dance. "Yellow?"
"Shawn Ryan, Shē'sueren."
"Kree'Gna, Shē'sueren."
"I have a proposition for you. There is a large contract coming my way that I wish your companionship on, but you would need a faster craft. If I could loan you enough to cover, say, a new 350r after a reasonable trade-in on the 315... would you be interested?"
"I don't know... I hadn't even considered that craft. Would I still be able to keep the tractor beam?"
"You would have to ask the dealer. They might even have a late model used."
"Well, how long would I have to find out?"
"If you can let me know in the next day or so, that would be best."
"I'll get right on it... well, after a meal and some sleep."
"That will be most acceptable. I look forward to your decision. Shawn Ryan, athlē-korr."
"Kree'Gna, athlē-korr."
My meal arrives and I dig in with gusto. Mouthful follows mouthful, even though there are hardly enough berries to have one in each bite; what flavor there is is appreciated.
Maybe this would be a good juncture to hop down to the plantation and see how things are doing... and maybe pick up some fresh ghost peppers and other spices. Kree'Gna's dig about the lack of profit strikes me as I think about the place. Maybe I could sell it and have enough to get a racer for whatever he has planned and still keep my 315 for less arduous activities.
I kind of miss the runs with my first 315p. Back in those early days, before I knew better, I'd go harvest minerals from the asteroid fields, then try to survive long enough to make it back with my haul. Heck, I even tried Orion once... though if there hadn't been a UEE naval patrol, I wouldn't be telling this story now.
Still, there was so much beauty to enjoy. I really...
"Mind if I join you, pilot?" A tall hairless woman... I think... sits opposite me. Contralto voice and stronger than normal features leave me wondering, even though the outfit is a synth that could be almost painted onto her well proportioned figure.
"Well, it's a free platform. How may I help you?"
"Not having much luck with the waitresses, are you?"
Hmmm... disturbing turn of events. I play it dumb for the moment, "No, she got the order right."
"But not the desired end."
I think I can guess where this is leading, but I'm reticent about having been listened in on. There is a professional look in those eyes and probably not the profession appearances would otherwise suggest.
"Well, I've had a good meal now, so it doesn't matter."
There is a hint of hesitation, I'm not responding as she anticipated. "We could have plenty of time for that to settle. I'm Gloria, by the way."
"Hello, Gloria, folks call me TOG," I reply. "Look, I think I know where this is going, but now that I've stuffed myself I really need to get some sleep... been in the sky too many hours to make it worth either of our time to let this play out."
There is an unexpected shrewdness in her expression and not even a clue of disappointment, "Okay, some other time, then. Have fun, TOG." With that she rises and walks past me. A reflection in my water glass tells me she just keeps walking.
My waitress comes by and while I credit my check, I casually ask, "That Gloria person a regular?"
"Who?"
"The woman who just came to my table?"
"Nope, never seen her before."
"Fair enough, have a good evening."
"It is morning by our clocks."
"Ooops, so it is. Well have a good one anyway."
