CHAPTER 1 – THE TRADER

Kael strode aboard onto the platform that sat beneath his ship.  He had a full cargo hold of medical supplies, each box designated for some distant world from the civilized planet he was leaving.  The rituals of docking and departure were much simpler in the far out systems.  Slamming his fist on a large button, the dirty, scarred elevator rose into the belly of the Jagged Edge, sealing the ship’s interior.  He normally took the cargo elevator when he made deliveries, and this time it had been hard to find room.  A good, full load meant a good, full bank account and Kael was happy about the mass of crates.

As soon as he could step up into the rest of the cargo hold Kael had nearly ran to the stairs up to the overhanging catwalk.  After he slid his cargo listing into a computer and flipped a few switches, the computer automatically categorized the cargo and cranes began arranging it for easy delivery.  Straps automatically applied themselves to secure for takeoff and landing.  Leaving the cranes to do their work, he left the large cargo hold via one of two side doors.  This led to a series of parallel hallways, which ultimately led him to the cockpit.  He walked by the medical room, the normal entrance for crew, his small, personal kitchen, his sleeping chambers, and the computer room and opened the hatch that led into the messy cockpit.  

Sitting heavily in the pilot’s chair, Kael strapped himself in and powered up the side engines of the ship.  Starting with a low hum, the engines rose to a roar that shook the cockpit violently.  A small flashing light told him he had an incoming message.  He flipped a switch and a vidscreen showed a docking official.

“N20-94 ‘wasp’ class shuttle, you are not cleared for takeoff.” The official warned solemnly.  The man had lines creasing his face from spending far too much time worrying about every aspect of the world’s many checkpoints and regulations.

“Urgent delivery of medical supplies, not a minute to lose.” Kael said, reaching above himself to adjust the power of the main thrusters.  Not that a few seconds really mattered, but he didn’t want to deal with the hassle of docking authorities.  The official began to complain, but Kael switched off the communication and adjusted the angle of the ship using the side engines.  The four main thrusters then kicked in, blasting the pad where he had been docked with intense heat and rocketing Kael’s ship into the sky.  

Kael felt the subtle shift in pressure that came with the inertial dampening unit and felt his head throb slightly with the change.  Then, as he broke the atmosphere, the silence hit him.  The engines no longer made the loud roar, only the hum of them working from the engine room.  He pulled a lever on the controls in front of him and the ship gently trailed forward at a mere fifty meters per second.  Leaving the cockpit, Kael retraced his way into the computer room.  This was no easy feat for most, as the artificial gravity unit was still warming up, and he had to kick off of surfaces to reach the small, hot room.  Punching in a few coordinates on a large panel, the computer began the complex calculations needed to plot a safe way through hyperspace.  Gravity had reached the norm now, and Kael set down on the ground with practiced ease.  Setting the computer to an “alert when ready” status, he went to his small bedchamber and grabbed his dataslate novel off of the floor.  It had been tossed in takeoff, but it was undamaged, so Kael sat down to read his newest piece of dataslate fiction, The Pirates of Vernus.  

After he read several chapters, a soft orange glow came from a light overhead, telling him the computer had finished running its calculations.  He hurried to the cockpit, as if he waited too long, the computer might have to recalculate.  Sitting and strapping himself back into the pilot’s seat, he hit the button that began the warp into hyperspace.  The side engines worked automatically, maneuvering the ship to the exact point it needed to be at for the equation to work.  For about a second, the ship was perfectly still, and Kael grew tense.  This was his least favorite part of travel: Jumping.

At first, it felt as if there was some driving pressure setting in on his chest, pushing him into his seat.  Next, his stomach turned and twisted, making a sick feeling pass over him as stars began to fade into blurs as the streaked by.  Lastly, the pressure left immediately, leaving him reeling and slightly nauseous.  It was the price one had to pay for long distance travel, and he was lucky to even have a hyperspace drive.  Now in hyperspace, he had plenty of time to reorient himself until he reached his next destination.  600 hours of silent travel through hyperspace until he reached the distant Sicher system.  The system only had two inhabitable worlds and one moon, and he was bound for the forsaken rock known as Eston.  The world had an odd sort of luck, as it was the nicest of the three options in the system, and the system was in a good place for a military outpost.  Because of this, Eston was a world with more men in its fleet then living on its surface.

Eston was a long ways away, however, so Kael sat back in the now working gravity and scratched his unshaven face and decided to read some more of his dataslate.  The large man brushed his long hair, messy with neglect on his long journeys, aside and opened the hatch to the hallway.  When the door to his room slid open he tossed himself on his bed and picked up the dataslate and begun to read.  He finished in quickly, chuckling to himself as he read the ending where the moral, upstanding pirate saved a young girl from his sinister former master.  A swordfight, of all things, was the climax of the story.  It was so stereotypical, first off for portraying Vernus as such an evil place, albeit it did have a very high crime rate.  Highest in the galaxy in fact, but that was no matter to the thirty-four year old man that had been born on Trelden, Vernus’ primary world.  Home was home, no matter how rough it may be.

Kael stood up and left his room to go to the dining room, just a short distance down the narrow corridor.  The room was small, as were most rooms on the Jagged Edge, and a table and two chairs sat bolted into the floor.  A large system of drawers covered one wall, and all of his food supplies were thrown into them according to flavor.  He grabbed a can of an unidentified meat flavored proteins and set the can on the counter.  Cutting off the lid with the ration opener, he grabbed a small knife from his belt and began to dine.  The food had a hint of flavor to it, but it was bland, as was all long-term healthy food one could find.  Kael now regretted not eating while he was on the surface of the last world.  He might have got a decent meal, no doubt one better than the chunky paste he was eating now.  

Finishing his can of proteins, he opened up the waste disposal and dumped it inside.  Wiping off and sheathing his knife, he left the room and entered one of the two stairways that led up to the top level of his ship.  He entered a large room with a round table in the middle of it and a shower stall in the corner; this room served as a common area for the ship when it had more than one man on board.  It was tiny, with a small table with a holographic map projector on it and two chairs.  Kael had been alone on his ship ever since he threw his old mechanic off.  The man was lazy, and Kael had always ended up doing the work anyways.  Since Kael could maintain the mechanical and basic electrical functions of the ship, he didn’t need the drain on his pay.

His pay was rather low, as many people who wished to be acquainted with Kael soon realized.  One would expect that Kael would have a substantial amount of money as he was the grandson of the owner and founder of the largest delivery service in the galaxy: the Donner Shipping Lines.  Ships bearing the large brown “D” on the port side were found all over, and the Jagged Edge had one as well.  Since Kael’s grandfather, Neth Donner, was barely over a hundred years old and still had half his life ahead of him, he had decided that he still needed all the money he could get, hoarding it for himself and his wife.  His children and grandchildren were offered better positions and slightly larger than average pay if they worked for the Lines, but Neth had never once given anything out of good will to his family.  To top it all off, Neth made no effort to hide he did not like Kael or his sister Veler.  His part of the family had fallen out of the old man’s favor once Kael’s father Arden moved to Trelden.

Kael’s reaction to the whole thing had been to make a rude gesture whenever he departed a Donner waystation.  Fortunately, his father was not as miserly, and had spent quite a few zircs to ensure Kael got the ship he wanted.  His Wasp class ship was a rare find as it was very unpopular.  While it was a great ship with advanced computers, powerful engines, and even twin torpedo bays, it was small and rather cramped.  There were only two rooms for crew, meaning two people would have to be able to perform all the tasks onboard unless makeshift bunks were made somewhere.  In Kael’s case, he was the only one doing the work, and he had developed a large variety of skills in the process.  He had a sharp mind, even if he was a slow learner, and after ten years of traveling and delivering supplies, Kael had learned how to maintain his ship effectively.  Even if he sometimes needed to replace a part that a better mechanic might be able to fix, the cost was by far cheaper than hiring a better mechanic.

Kael slid open a hatch into the surprisingly spacious exercise room.  Such rooms were standard on ships as to prevent muscular atrophy from long journeys.  The room looked empty save for several handles and scorch marks that covered the walls.  Each handle could be pulled down to reveal some sort of exercise machine that was hidden in the wall.  He grabbed the handle labeled “vertical press” and pulled.  The weight machine folded out and Kael began his workout routine.  After the weight exercise, he ran for a while on a treadmill.  Bored of the mundane exercises, he slid open a small compartment that housed his low-powered practice pistol.  While even a high-powered handheld laser could not penetrate the walls, there was no sense in pressing one’s luck in deep space.  Kael started up a target practice program via a small panel next to the door.  Taking his time, he picked the small holographic discs off of the far wall with ease.  The targets disintegrated as the beams hit them, and a running total of his accuracy was displayed to his left.  As he expected, every one of his shots hit the stationary targets.  He then booted up a second program where the targets would move and different rates.  This was a bit trickier, but Kael still shot down every one with ease, and he still had perfect accuracy for the exercise.

Next, he loaded his own custom program.  A ten second countdown began and he walked into the middle of the room.  When the timer ended, targets began to appear in random locations of the room, moving at random speeds.  Kael whirled, snapping shots off in every direction.  While many fizzed out, a few buzzed and turned the telltale red that told him he missed.  After a couple of minutes, the program ended, and the panting Kael looked up at his hit percentage.  The number 88 was displayed on the back wall of the room, and he smiled with satisfaction.  He was getting better at this.  Placing the pistol back in its usual place and shutting down the program, Kael returned to the common area.  Taking advantage of the shower in the corner of the room, Kael cleaned up and then gathered his clothing and went into his private quarters.  One of the nice things about being alone on a ship was you didn’t have to worry about decency, and the man walked nude back to his room, his clothing and pistol under one arm.  When he got to his room, he donned a pair of soft pants and laid down on his bed.  He was tired from the exercise, and allowed himself to drift to sleep.

This became the standard routine over the many cycles it took to get into communications range of Eston, and he made the call to the planet happily.  He loved being in space and being alone, but he still cherished the times he was on the ground.  He broke out of hyperspace and got a good view of the planet, both through the thick window and on his scanners.  After going through some docking procedures, much simpler in this far out system than in the more civilized worlds, Kael prepared to enter Eston’s atmosphere and strapped himself into the pilot’s seat.  He began to skim the edge of it, and the front of the Jagged Edge began to heat up.  Engaging several breaking systems, he began to slow his ship down from its tremendous velocity.  The ship’s computer had worked out the mathematics for the proper entry point and direction, but it was up to Kael to slow the ship down to fit the equations.  The ship shook violently as he entered the system, and he saw the nose of the ship turn red with heat.  Managing to pull the ship to a normal atmospheric cruising speed, he used the two side engines to maneuver his ship to the dirty, charred, docking pad.  He lowered the landing gear and set the ship down gently onto the square pad.

Leaving the cockpit, Kael walked out to the cargo bay.  The shipment for Eston had been loaded onto the elevator while everything else was placed in the other half of the room.  The trader stepped onto the elevator and pressed some buttons, lowering him and the cargo to the pad.  An official came out to greet him, and handed him a dataslate.  After finishing the official work, the port’s crew began to unload the cargo.  He left the port, satisfied with the amount of guards assigned to his ship and his cargo.  Medical supplies were very valuable and caught a high price on the black market.  As such, the government, both local and galactic, was very protective of the supply that existed.

Wondering what the city had to offer him, Kael wandered the streets for a short time.  He found a little pub and entered.  Some of the locals shot him nasty looks, but they knew better than to mess with the spacefarer.  The reaches of space were dangerous, and the men that traveled them had a reputation for being equally so.  Kael sat down in a booth in the corner and ordered the local brew.  He was not disappointed with the large mug that came his way, and drank the dark liquid with relish.  It was very strong and bitter, and Kael lounged on the seat, enjoying the time he had off.

He was about halfway through his drink when he noticed a massive ferdanian walk through the door.  One of the two intelligent alien races mankind had found in their travels, ferdanians were tall and generally thin.  This one stood straight despite being short for a ferdanian, standing at about seven and a half feet tall.  His dark blue skin glistened in the low light of the bar and his chest was covered in a solid reflective plate.  The hairless, enormous creature surveyed the people in the bar and found Kael shortly.  The trader stood out in his foreign clothes and lighter skin.  The ferdanian came over to Kael and sat down across from him.  His arms bulged underneath clothing as they sat to rest on the table, and Kael found two small, yellow, eyes staring at him.  The ferdanian was extraordinarily muscular, and the table stressed under what must have been tremendous weight.  The alien’s faces were generally rather easy to read, and the subtle facial expressions found on humans clearly visible in the thick, smooth skin.  The six tendrils that came from the back of the being’s head resembled a man with long hair, but they allowed the ferdanian to sense subtle vibrations in the air around him, and could even somewhat sense the feelings of humans and other creatures.  Kael suppressed any notion of fear, and looked at the ferdanian without expression.  The large being ordered a drink, his tendrils stretched out a few inches and tasting the air.

“Good day, trader.” The large being said, looking down on the smaller man.  The normal accent found in ferdanians was non-existent, and the man spoke standard perfectly.  People generally know both standard and a local language, and in some cases, such as Kael’s, people would know several.  Kael even knew ferdanian common, and considered responding in the being’s native tongue.  His face was as stone, and Kael could not help but express his shock.  For a race known for their inability to hide emotions, this one was a brilliant actor.

“You too, stranger,” Kael replied warily.  Any ferdanian with this good of an ability to hide emotion was a dangerous creature indeed.

“I am Piva Lezaku.  I am wondering if we could strike a deal.” the man spoke clearly and distinctly.  Kael guessed that there was some sort of training in the ferdanian, possibly even military level.

“Hold’s full.” Kael responded, taking a swig from his mug to hide any sign he was lying.  While ferdanians usually had a difficult time reading humans, this one seemed to be different.  “Hardly a quarter ton left.”

“I am sure.” Piva said with what was unmistakably a patronizing tone.  The waitress brought him his drink, and he ignored it for the time being. “I am also sure that two million zircs could open up a ton or two.”  Kael gave the man a hard stare in response.  While traders would often accept outside assignments while they were making deliveries, Kael usually did not.  This was due to a mixture of limited space and Kael’s natural distrust of others.  It was something he had developed growing up in the most criminal part of the galaxy.

“It might,” Kael said at length, scratching his chin thoughtfully.  He took a slip from his drink and though for a bit.  While he usually didn’t deal with strangers, he could use the money.  “What’s the cargo?”

“Myself and two others.  They are human, so there should be no trouble fitting us onboard, even on a small ship.  I will pay two million zircs for us to board, and we will discuss our destination after you have completed you current deliveries.” Piva said, finally picking up his drink and bathing one of his tendrils in it.  This was a common way for a ferdanian to drink and still be able to speak, as the tendrils could absorb nutrients.  Unfortunately this filtered out the alcohol.

“I only have one room free.” Kael replied, and took another sip of his drink.

“That is more than adequate.  I do not need a bed and I am sure one bunk is sufficient for two humans.”

“I suppose so.” Kael shrugged.  He still felt suspicious about the whole deal. “Why don’t you three get a transport?”

“We wish for a level of discretion.” Piva said, his first smile cracking his face.  The smile was broad and showed the long, rounded teeth of the ferdanian.

“Is there any level of risk?” Kael replied with a snap.  Piva instantly became stone-faced again, the smile completely disappearing behind his wide lips.

“None beyond that of ordinary travel through space,” Piva said, “and we will gladly help you with any trouble that arises.”  Kael had no doubt that he could, and his eyes strayed to the massive arms that Piva had folded in front of himself.

“Are you fugitives?” Kael asked, still staring hard for any betraying sign of emotion.

“No fugitives.  Nothing illegal.” Piva said, and remained emotionless.  Kael maintained a hard stare, but the ferdanian was unbreakable and kept his cold expression for a while, but he saw the tug of Piva’s cheeks as a smile began to sneak its way onto his face.

“No.” Kael said, turning his attention back to his drink.

“No?” Piva asked, his cold demeanor completely falling away.  He was simply astonished, and it was easy to see.  

“Not for two million.” Kael responded, draining the last of his drink and ordering a second.  Piva realized what was going on and his face settled into a grimace.

“How much do you want then?” Piva asked with a trace of disgust.

“Ten.” Kael snapped as soon as Piva finished what he had said.

“Ten!” Piva replied, nearly shouting and rising from his seat.  Realizing he had just attracted the complete attention of the bar, he leaned towards Kael and whispered fiercely. “I am not a bank!  I will give you four, and that is my limit!”

“Ten.” Kael responded, completely calm.

“Four!” Piva snarled, and then realizing he was losing his cool, began to regain his composure and sat back down.

“Then we don’t have a deal,” Kael said with a shrug. “The next trader is bound for Eston in 244 cycles.  Hope you aren’t in a hurry.”  He knew this was his masterstroke.  The ferdanian would raise his payment as much as he possibly could now, and Kael would be gaining quite a bit of money.

“Very well.  Six and-“ Piva cut off suddenly as the waitress dropped off Kael’s second drink, which he began to chug heartily.  His tendrils bristled and searched the air for any movement.  If anyone got within ten feet he would know their exact movements. “Six and this.” He removed a small tube from his jacket and set it on the table.  It resembled one of the adrenal implants Kael kept in the medical ward on the Jagged Edge.

“I’m not interested in drugs.” He said with an air of obvious disgust.

“This is not a drug.  Look at it.” Piva urged.  Kael waited a second and then looked down at the item.  It appeared to be a vaccination of some sort with a pressure-driven needle.  Not quite the same as the stimulant pack he had taken it for, it was much more like something found in a hospital.  

“What is it then?” Kael asked.  The man was willing to use it as a bargaining chip, so it must have had some value.  Maybe even beyond monetary.

“An MNAI.  Medical Nanomachine Augmentation Injection.”  Kael’s eyes widened and he felt his hands tremble uncontrollably.  He looked up at the ferdanian, who now had his toothy grin back on his face.  The injection in his hand would extend Kael’s life past a thousand years, not to mention bolster every aspect of his health and accelerate recovery time.  He honestly did not know how long the nanomachines would keep him alive, as the oldest man was now well past his 1200th year and still counting.  What was in his hands was the most precious item in the galaxy, and it was only available to Terrans.  A nonhuman with medical nanomachines was unheard of, and Kael estimated there was less than a hundred of them in the Milky Way.

“I think we may have a deal, Mr. Lezaku,” Kael said, “but there is one more condition.”  Piva looked confused.  No doubt he expected the deal to be finished right there and then.  

“Fine.  What condition is that?” Piva replied.  Kael responded by chugging down the rest of his drink and slamming his mug on the table.  A crooked, toothy grin broke across his face that startled Piva.

“Pick up my tab.”