The Great Galactic Treasure Hunt

Transcription

When the gigantic trans-galactic cargo ship Ostia entered the hyperspace Arcus Stream, it
was high noon local time right under it on a planet named Vato Lehibe. She had left the
stationary orbit around Vato Lehibe early in the morning. Vato Lehibe was a booming
mining planet. Its rock was of a deep red colour and contained high concentrations of
aluminium and other metals. As the resources’ deposits began just under the surface,
scrap mining was possible and profitable.
The Arcus Stream was a kind of swift canal through hyperspace that allowed very fast
travel, even for hyperspace terms. Outside the strong wall of the huge spaceship, wavelike
trails of misty appearance rushed by. Actually, it was the Ostia that rushed through pas
them. She was not only one of the biggest spaceships ever built but also one of the fastest.
The Ostia carried passengers, good, and even other, smaller spaceships. Going at a rate of
eighty to hundred light years per hour under good to optimal conditions, the Ostia was
several times faster than the smaller spaceships she carried as cargo in her huge belly.
Sometime in the afternoon, the Ostia was scheduled to reach Louis Homes, an equally
booming mining and plantation settlement along the Arcus Stream. Louis Homes was
home to both mining and also farming business. They grew lots of plants that had been
genetically engineered to precisely fit the needs of the final customers. The plants were
also designed to withstand whatever conditions the planet they were grown on was
subjecting them to.
On Louis Homes, a planet that got its name from a gentleman called Louis; people grew
wood that was almost as strong as steel and lots of eatables serving as foodstuff the other
mining planets further up the Arcus Stream. Not every planet was suitable for farming and
growing food in greenhouses was much more costly than transporting it. At Louis Homes,
the Ostia was due to collect some more passengers and goods.
The Arcus Stream allowed the gigantic spaceship travelling but that came at a price. In
hyperspace, there was a phenomenon that was called the energy tide. Explaining it in easy
words was something that hyperspace physicists failed to perform and truly
understanding it was something that anyone found beyond comprehension. Its effects
were quite simple and straightforward, though. When the heat wave of the energy tide
was coming along, it got hot and when the cold wave came through, it got cold. The Arcus
Stream was seemingly beloved by heat tides; it attracted them almost magically.
The heat of the energy tide combined with the excess heat from the huge spaceships
engines to forma climate not quite convenient for human being. The heat seeped from
everywhere. From the cold fusion reactors to the hyperspace drive itself, from the
artificial gravitation to the electro-magnetic field deflection shields that attempted to
keep high-speed ions from the ship, anything produced excess heat. No matter how close
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the engineers managed to get efficiency to unattainable hundred percent, some
percentage of excess heat always remained. When the total amount of the energy
throughput was big enough, even a small percentage meant huge absolute numbers. With
the hyperspace heat tide at full swing, the cooling was not sufficient to create a
convenient atmosphere on board the huge space transporter.
The Ostia had cabins of different size for those who could pay for them and then different
classes of common passenger areas. Many people travelled in the cargo bays along their
possessions, though. The Ostia had several cargo bays with the major ones being large
enough to carry along even mid-size spaceships. Because it was cheaper, people would
travel in the cargo bays, too. The containers and goods that went along as cargo were
secured and fixed safely and the passengers roamed around between them as they
pleased. There were barrels huge and small, boxes of many different sized and shapes,
standard containers and lots of other cargo and the passengers were all in between and
all around. Most of the human freight was busy trying to cope with the heat by trying to
be as un-busy as possible. Many were just lying around.
In the middle isle of the major cargo bay of the huge spaceship Ostia, a makeshift bar had
been set up. On the one side of the makeshift bar, a bartender had to endure the heat. On
the other side of the bar, a group of about twenty men was hanging around. They were
playing dices. The bartender was oozing not only sweat but also displeasure and
resentment, whenever nobody directly looked at him. He would have very much
preferred to have a rest. Why could not a robot do this job?
The men of that dice-playing group must have known each other from earlier on, as they
called each other at first name and seemed to be quite familiar with the respective
situation of the others, as they frequent jokes and banter and teasing gave evidence.
There was one man among them whom the crowd treated with respect. That man was
addressed with the rank of colonel by them. This man was tall and thin. He was cleanshaven, had sharp and pointed features and fiery red hair. The man wore silk trousers and
a silk shirt. He had taken off his silk jacket because of the heat. Silk was a good material
for clothes when the wearer is exposed to excessively warm temperatures. It wasn’t
cheap, either. The fellow did not mind, though, to lay flat on the floor with his silken attire.
He did not behave as if it had meant much to him paying for it. That was slightly odd
because the better-off folks usually travelled in cabins and not in the cargo bay.
The Ostia left hyperspace again and approach the planet named Louis Homes. The huge
ship would not land there. It was far too big for save and secure landing. The Ostia would
remain in orbit and dock to a space station. There, the passengers and good that were to
come along, too, were already waiting.
Among the passengers entering the spaceship Ostia was one tall, broad, very muscular
fellow. He wore a well-used work suite made of tough material. His hair was full and of a
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very dark brown; like the fertile mud of a good field. The tall, muscular man made his way
to the main cargo bay. He wanted to save on the fare and he was accustomed to living
without much comfort. The absence of massive disturbances often meant sufficient
comfort to him. Travelling in the main cargo bay of the Ostia was the cheapest possibility
to get quickly through hyperspace. For that man, it fulfilled the purposes.
When the huge fellow with the dark brown hair finally reached the cargo main cargo bay
and slowly walked along the middle isle, between all the stuff that was being transported,
he looked around as if he was scanning and securing his environment. His gait was steady,
but calm and in no way hurried. He carried a rough bag that obviously had been used for
long and in rough environments. His eyes were very good and even from far he saw that
there was a makeshift bar in the middle isle. The man wasn’t out for a drink but he was
mildly curious as he saw a crown of people there. So he approached slowly. When he
came close, he suddenly realised that he recognised the appearance of one of those
fellows hanging around near the bar. He did not like what he saw. His eyes immediately
turned away and he stopped going further. He just went a little to the side, as if he had
found the very one place that suited him best for resting. There, the put his bag to the
ground and sat down, too, leaning with his back against the tightly packed bag.
The red-haired man had seen the newcomer, too, and he likewise did not seem to
appreciate what he saw. He, too, tried not to show it, though. The man who was called by
the title of colonel bent to one of his comrades and whispered: Don’t look around
conspicuously. Don’t show that I told you. But the fellow who just came and now is resting
over there looks familiar. It wasn’t a pleasant experience, though. I should want to find
out what the chap is all about, why he’s around here.’
There was no opportunity in sight for such enquiries, though. What came were instead
some more new passengers. They also chose to travel on the cheapest ticket available; or
they could not afford otherwise. Whatever the reason, their choice led them to the main
cargo deck. Two red Varanoides from planet Squamata Palus had joined the colourful lot
travelling among the cargo. Squamata Palus was a planet soaked in red. The rocks were
red, the soil was red; and the sun shining at it was red, too. Therefore, the natural colour
of the Varanoides was red. Other species sometimes called the Varanoides Red Scales; a
pejorative term that was better not used toward them. At least that was what people
claimed who had been witness so what may happen if somebody did. The Varanoides
could reach almost three meters of height and well above two hundred kilogram of
muscular, lean mass, though the two samples on board the Ostia were much smaller, not
even reaching two meters. The heaviest ever heard of Varanoide was a fat free individual
of two hundred kilogram. The Varanoides were basically ectotherm beings with a certain
span of poikilothermic sustainability. They could live within a certain range of
environmental and body temperatures. Apart from that, their scales, and their colour,
they had eyes resembling those of cats and very strong hands and feet with claws. The
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extremities were extremely muscular and rather short. Their faces were fairly flat and
showed practically no facial expression; they could not show much because of their
structure. With Varanoides, the sign of imminent danger was when they bared their teeth
and that happened only an instance before they’d bite into somebody else carotid artery
or similarly sensitive area. Usually, they preferred to use their claws, though, to finish
their opponent. That came with less risk to the own head, eyes and all included.
Another passenger had just arrived, too. He came last of the new crown and walked quite
slowly. That fellow was a human of tremendous size, even a good deal bigger than the tall
dark brown-haired man in the worker suit. This newcomer had blue eyes; blue like the
clear sky. His hair was dense of the fairly pale blond that comes from intensive exposure
to sun and sea. His skin was deeply tanned, gleaming in a bronze kind of brown. His
symmetric features were strong yet delicate. He walked along the isle between the cargos
toward the bar. When he had come close enough to see what kind of people were
handing around near the bar, he took a right angle turn and sat down on the ground,
leaning with his back against his backpack. Then he changed his mind and law down flat
on the ground.
Out of hyperspace and therefore out of the influence of the energy tide, the Ostia cooled
down. This was just a short respite, though. Soon, the big spaceship went back to
hyperspace and it started getting hot again. It was the kind of heat that was induces by
hyperspace itself in any form of aggregate matter. There was no escape from it. One could
just endure it.
After some time, the two Varanoides approached the bar. Their unhasty movements
showed both the attempt to avoid warming up further and the desire to be un-noticed at
best. They were apparently shy. When they had reached the bar, kind of trying to sneak
through the crowd of rough and tough-looking men hanging around there, the bigger one
of the two Varanoides addressed the bartender. ‘Alcohol bottle two price minimum’ the
Varanoide hissed. Their different respiratory tracts made it somewhat difficult for
Varanoides to speak human languages. The second problem then came from human
language grammar, which was strange to the Varanoides.
Anyway, the bartender guessed that the Varanoide wanted to have two bottles of the
cheapest alcohol available. He slowly turned round and reached for them. The cheap stuff
was put at the most distant place where customers would see it last.
In that moment, the fellow whom the other men hanging around near the bar called
colonel intervened. ‘Why be content with the cheapest stuff?’ he asked. ‘I’ll treat you
folks for the best on offer!’ he insisted and gave orders to the bartender to hand over two
bottles of the best liquor available to the Varanoides. The bartender did as asked for. The
one Varanoide took them both and handed over one of the bottles to the other one. Then,
the aliens opened the bottles and poured the content over their heads. The alcohol ran
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from their heads over their bodies and soaked them. With alcohol evaporating at lover
temperatures than water, at 351.65 degree Kelvin, instead of 373.15 degree Kelvin for
water, it was an effective coolant. As the Varanoides could not sweat because their scaled
skin had no sweat glands, pouring liquid over themselves was a rational choice. Using
alcohol instead of water for that purpose was perspicuous and getting it from the bar was
self-evident, as the bar was close by. That this strange human had insisted on treating
them for the most expensive stuff was inscrutable to the Varanoides but they were too
courteous and shy to object. So, they had taken what they had been offered and used in in
their way.
The fellow who was being called colonel by his mates apparently could not follow all that
Varanoide logic. He could not even be bothered with trying. He did not ask what and why
but immediately turned mad in anger. He started shouting a few words at the Varanoides,
who stood motionless and in bewilderment. Then, with his madness reaching boiling point,
something in itself not advisable, but certainly no great idea on a spaceship experiencing a
hyperspace energy tide heat wave and faced with two Varanoides, the colonel struck out
at them. One of the Varanoides managed to avoid the punch by ducking down but the
other alien got a blow. It was the bigger one of the two Varanoides who had received the
punch but he did not strike back. For a moment, it looked as if the smaller of the aliens
wanted to rip the colonel in stripes as his the claws of the Varanoide’s paws flashed. On a
glance of the bigger one, the smaller alien returned to calm immediately. The fellow called
colonel by his comrades was also appeased; by the help of those very same rough and
tough folks he was travelling with. Fighting with Varanoides was anyway no decent past
time; certainly not in such temperatures and without decent arms.
The aliens, not understanding fully what had happened but with their instinct telling them
to better create some distance between themselves and those strange-behaving humans,
slowly moved backward. Those two Varanoides were not very familiar with humans. They
could see that humans were sweating, though. Thus, the two Varanoides assumed that
the humans were drinking the alcohol to sweat it out for the purpose of cooling.
Themselves being not able to sweat, it was self-evident to them that anyone used the
available means of maintaining a bearable body temperature by his own means,
appropriate to his own body structure. So the aliens did not understand why humans
would chose anything else but the cheapest alcohol nor did they comprehend why the
other fellow had insisted on treating them to it and his reaction following their actions
remained entirely alien to the Varanoides. But then, it wasn’t worth fighting on this
spaceship either. Later, some other time may come more appropriate to settle scores.
The fellow called colonel, though, was not that patient. He was still red of anger at the red
Varanoides who had wasted his expensive two bottles of alcohol. He had wanted to invite
them to a drink and they had wasted it, ostentatiously pouring it over their heads. Such an
insult! Such a waste of a fine drink! Just to show that his friendliness and generosity
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meant nothing to them. How could they dare to insult him that much; and in front of his
men? That’s what the fellow called colonel thought. And being a man not only of thought
but also of action, he decided to do something about this insult; do it right now and right
here. The alcohol he had drunken till now had not served to cool his body and certainly it
had not cooled his temper. He took an empty bottle and threw if at the retreating
Varanoides. The bottle was thrown strongly and it flew fast and far, missing its target but
hitting one of the containers, where it crashed against the steel with a cracking sound,
braking in many pieces.
An instance later, a terrible, frightening roar emerged from inside that very same
container. It was very loud and it was very strong, hinting to something being inside that
container that was huge and dangerous. With four exceptions, everybody on that cargo
deck cringed. The four noticeable exceptions were the two Varanoides, and the two tall
fellows, the one with brown hair and brown eyes and the other blonde one with the skyblue eyes. Those four had realised the roar but did not jerk at it. They were not fearful
beings and they had enough control over themselves to avoid such involuntary reactions
to surprise. None of the four had known that there was a mighty beast in that container
but all of them possessed the self-composure to remain calm even in times of danger.
With the beast well locked in a steel container, they were had certainly not entered any
times of danger, though.
Who had experienced a tremendous fit of fright, though, was the fellow whom the other
rough-and-tough looking guys addressed as colonel. Given the high military rank
attributed to him, it might have been natural to assume he could maintain his calm better,
but obviously not only his temper was on the hotter side but his susceptibility to fear and
surprise formed a pronounced feature of his character, too.
After recovering from the fit of fear that had shaken him, he started shouting in anger.
How could this be that such a beast was around here without anyone knowing it? What
was this allowed? Who had granted permission to such a transgression of adequate
consideration? All such rhetoric the colonel-called fellow poured out like an open tap. It
was apparent that he wanted to chafe a something by choice. He was creating a scandal,
albeit a small one, to later search for and finally find a culpable perpetrator. The culprit
was to serve a scape-goat and satisfy the artificially agitated fellow’s lust for hurting
someone.
As it is often, when some fellow is agitated, others joined him. Was it a kind of peer group
pressure or some form of collective understanding, the desire to be member of a group or
just the lust of some excitement, the learning from experience that those who should and
protest and show anger will be given something in return for calming down? Whatever
the reason for this phenomenon, so widely observable among human beings, the result
was that quite a few folks made quite a lot of noise. The called out for some attention and
claimed to be concerned about their safety. They demanded to know what was inside the
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container and they resolutely requested full disclosure of the container’s content. It was
none of their business. It did not affect them. They were in hyperspace and would have
many other matters to worry about if they desired to seriously be concerned. Yet, they
chose to get agitated of somebody else’ cargo.
In that moment stepped forward an elegantly dressed gentleman. This was another
sample of a person who would not be expected to travel in the cargo bay of a spaceship.
On this travel of the mighty Ostia, lots of such persons all had come together in this very
cargo bad. What a strange coincidence. The elegantly clad gentleman introduced himself
as Joe Fridger, owner of a famous circus and as such also owner of the Aisyalamese
dynaraptor in that container.
A fully-gown dynaraptor from planet Aisyalam was a splendid beast. It was a pitch-black
furry creature of the night, with big eyes and big ears and a nose son fine and sharp that it
could smell prey over distances of several kilometres.
Curiosity started to build up among the passengers. Aisyalamese dynaraptor were no
frequent sight. They were rare even on their home planet and rare where the persons
who had survived an encounter with them and who could thus tell about the beast; or
show around pictures of the sylvan predator. When the crowd that had gathered because
of the ruckus learned that there was a strong cage inside the container, providing further
safety, they started demanding to see the wild animal.
Businessman as he was, Joe Fridger was soon willing to grant that permission, under the
precondition of adequate payment, of course. Discussions ensued and it did not take long,
till curiosity had prevailed over thriftiness. Albeit the folks travelling in a cargo bay of a
spaceship usually either wanted or had to save money, enough people who were willing
to spend on a little diversion were found inside the giant spaceship Ostia’s hull.
The door of the container was opened and the crowd who had paid for the view could see
the Aisyalamese dynaraptor. They could hear the poor beast, too, because it roared at the
peak of its voice. Being suddenly exposed to much noise and even more light was no
amusement for the creature. It expresses that lack of pleasure with a sound that had
evolutionary evolved to teach any being with even a rudimentary information processing
capability to get away and leave the beast alone.
The crowd did not leave the beast alone, though. Being more or less civilised, or at least
believing to be, and having lost their trust in basic instincts, they came ever closer. The
Aisyalamese dynaraptor, who was a beat of the night, blinded by the bright light and
severely disturbed by the noise, tried to abscond but of course could not get further than
then rear end of his cage.
That cage filled out the whole container and the Aisyalamese dynaraptor filled out the
rear half of the care. It was a galactic standard container measuring on the outside 12.5
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meters in length, 2.5 meters in width and 3 meters in height. Its dray weight was
altogether 3.5 tons. It was made of very solid corrosion resistant steel that had
additionally been powder coated and its corners were clad with some tough plastic
serving as fender.
The cage inside the container probably added more than double the weight again; at least
it looked as if. The cage consisted of blank, uncoated stainless steel rods of approximately
five centimetres in diameter. The rods formed a rectangular lattice on all sides of the cage.
The bottom featured some additional rods of steel so that the beast could rest yet the
droppings of the creature would fall through. Getting into the cage for cleaning was thus
avoided.
With the Aisyalamese dynaraptor seemingly cowardly cringing in the back of his cage, the
crowd got ever pushier and courageous. Some folks started flashing their fingertips into
the cage for a tiny moment. As nothing happened, they became yet more courageous. The
rods of the cage stood in such a distance that a person could put the arm at full length into
the cage and even much of the shoulder would fit through. The gaps were somewhat
narrow for the head to fit through at ease.
Most of the crowd travelling in that cargo bay of the huge spaceship Ostia flocked around
the open door of the container with the poor Aisyalamese dynaraptor. Notably absent
remained the two Varanoides and also the two well-build humans described before. They
looked at the scene from a distance, if they devoted any attention to it at all.
When yet another fellow among the spectators felt that he had to prove his courage and
put his full arm into the cage with the beast, the endeavour ended as it finally had to.
Trying to exhaust their luck, people usually came to the point where they succeeded and
their luck finally had run out. This man’s lucky streak definitely was over. The Aisyalamese
dynaraptor proved its biological name and did what its instincts demanded. The
dynaraptorus giganteum aisyalamensis, the great dynamic predator from planet Aisyalam,
as the name ran in plain language, snatched the arm with incredible speed, accelerating
its paw beyond the believable. The beast pulled the arm through rods into the cage and
applied to much force that the man’s one shoulder and head got also torn in. With the
next move, the predator bit off arm, shoulder and head and retreated again, the
amputated dead body falling to the ground.
As was customary among people of all ages and times, the ruckus started anew and the
folks who just had tried to out-compete each other in the exhibit of their courage now
shouted again about the injuries that they had sustained. Except for the man who had
fallen prey to the predator, nobody had suffered any harm. And that afflicted fellow of
course remained silent, lacking throat and mouth and vocal cords now; and the brain to
coordinate them all. Nobody cared very much for the dead body of that man while the
crowd was much agitated about their own fate and demanded retribution. They wanted
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their money back and some compensation for the endured danger and claimed mental
agony on top of it. The people taking part in that ruckus might have felt that by shouting
and protesting, there was something to be gained for them.
Joe Fridger, the owner of the Aisyalamese dynaraptor, remained steadfast in his denial of
any recompense. He insisted that the spectators had paid him for seeing the beast. He had
made the made the view of the beast available. He had not told anyone to put any of his
or her limbs into the cage. Therefore, nothing of what had happened was within his
responsibility. Furthermore, his side of the deal had been only to let people see the
Aisyalamese dynaraptor and they had seen it. Thus, his side of the deal was fulfilled.
Actually, the valued audience had even been treated to some additional thrill, and seen
the predator life in action; something that few people ever before had survived to report
about. With such words, no matter how true, the voluntarily agitated crowd could not be
called, though. They were shouting not because of any real or perceived injury but for the
prospect of getting their money back and any reason, no matter how much wrongfully
pleaded, was doing well for them.
Alarmed by the veritable commotion all that had caused, some security fellow from the
spaceship’s crew arrived. He was accompanied by a squat of security robots. When being
told what had happened, he pulled a flat, palm-size communication device from a pocket
of his uniform and looked up the respective security cameras’ files. He soon found some
video footage and decided that nothing grave actually happened. He declined the
demands of the crowd for killing the beast as the predator was safely behind bars. It was
evident to the security chap that whoever puts himself in danger is fully liable for the
results. He proclaimed that the case was closed with that decision and refused to even
discuss the matter further. When the security fellow told the crown to disperse and let the
matter rest in peace, his humble and courteous words were supported by the far less
humble and much more martial sight of the squat of security robots. Not willing to mess
with them and understanding that nothing more was to be gained by agitation and
artificial excitement, the crowd now actually did disperse.
The security fellow returned to where he had come from, glad of having taken care of the
issue. The mess created by the beast would be a matter for the cleaning robots; and
therefore no real matter at all. The case was clear as evidence by the security cameras’
footage and he did not have to write a big report. He’d just sign the automatically created
incidence report and state that nothing else had to be stated. Accidents happened and life
would turn into a serious of inconveniences if he let himself be haunted by the bad fate of
any fool who chose to succumb to the inherent dangers of the universe.
The security guard disappeared again and with him the squat of security robots. The
people who had previously caused the ruckus now knew that there was nothing but
trouble to gain from a repetition. They anyway have had their fun, so they could retreat in
peace and let matters be. The two Varanoides kept away from all the other passengers
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due to their bad experience with some of them. They did not understand the sudden
outbreak of violence but wanted to make sure they would not be the victims again. The
rough-and-tough crowd around the fellow who was called colonel again flocked to the bar
and continued sipping strong drinks and playing weak cards and uneven dices.
In quite some distance to the makeshift bar and also to the events that had involved Joe
Fridger, the Aisyalamese dynaraptor, and the gentleman who lost his head, two big guys
looked at each other for a moment. Both had realises that the respective other fellow had
remained very calm and well clear of any commotion. There are ways for special people to
recognise each other. They had never met before but both of them felt that the other one
was not just another member of the mindless crowd that they had just witnessed but a
man of experience and intelligence; and a survivor. A good method of getting along well
through the challenges of life was to be in the company of other people who were getting
through difficulties well and who were reliable, too.
The dark brown-haired gentleman stood and moved over to the huge blond fellow. He
greeted with respect and asked if the other one would mind him to sit down nearby. The
blue-eyed fellow confirmed that courteously. They started a conversation and it turned
out that they both came from the same planet, a world named Kudal. The brown-eyed,
dark brown-haired gentleman’s name was Tom Grand and the sky-blue eyes belonged to
Ben Sommer.
It turned out both Kudalians had notices the group of twenty rough-and-tough men near
the makeshift bar and recognised them as trouble makers. It was the brown-haired Tom
Grand, though, who knew more. He told his fellow planetary compatriot that the lead of
that group was a person whom he knew as Lom Claybrinck. That man was dangerous. Lom
Claybrinck was of short temper and highly aggressive when intoxicated, when he
developed a tendency to engage in mindless idiocies. He was thus dangerous when under
the influence of alcohol but he was even more dangerous when sober. In a clear-minded
state, Lom Claybrinck was a cunning, scheming, savvy villain, bare any conscience and
capable of out-smarting the vast majority of contemporaries. ‘I have encountered that
individual before’, Tom Grand explained his knowledge about the wretch. Despite his blue
eyes, Ben Sommer wasn’t blue-eyed. He had immediately felt instinctively, when coming
close enough to see enough, that this Lom Claybrinck and his little troop were up to no
good. He had chosen to stay well clear of them but keep a watch on them.
By talking and exchanging stories and experiences and old memories from their home
planet Kudal, time passed by swiftly for Tom Grand and Ben Sommer. Soon, the giant
spaceship they travelled with left hyperspace again. The Ostia had covered huge distances
in her inconvenient though very fast travel. Now, it was approaching Station Katy Acoupa.
Station Katy Acoupa was the name of both a space station circling in orbit around planet
Katy Acoupa and the settlement on the surface of that planet itself. The gigantic
transporter Ostia was to visit the space station, as she was far too huge for landing.
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Having left hyperspace, the cooling was enabled gain. With the hyperspace heat wave
inducing energy into every atom and molecule, thus also into the cooling agent and all
parts of any air-conditioning system, cooling was a very difficult task in hyperspace. In
ordinary space, it usually was no issue, if no shining star was close by. For the passengers,
the setting-in of the cooling systems was a respite at first. Then, it turned to a nuisance
when it continued because the bodies had adjusted to the warmth and were now
sensitive to the sudden cold. The passengers wouldn’t have to endure it for very long,
though.
When approaching the space station, the Ostia had be steered with special car, even more
so than usually, because the ship was bigger than the orbiting docking and transfer facility;
and more robust, too. The huge Ostia would continue on her way ploughing the main
Arcus Stream while any travellers wanting to go further up the departing Vertmacon
Stream had to interchange at station Katy Acoupa. The on-going spaceship, named Nellie
Fortier, had already docked on Station Katy Acoupa and was waiting to receive the
passengers travelling further on up the Vertmacon Stream. The Nellie Fortier was a much
less huge spaceship than the mighty Ostia. She wasn’t quite small, though, either. Even
the Nellie Fortier was a ship of considerable size and she could travel much faster than
most ordinary smaller spaceships.
It turned out that not only the two Kudalians but also the Varanoides and the twenty men
around Lom Claybrinck, whom they called colonel, were to interchange at Station Katy
Acoupa. Because the spaceship Ostia was big, the space station circling planet Katy
Acoupa wasn’t small either, and the Nellie Fortier could not be described as tiny, too, that
was quite some walking.
When crossing the space station, the glance of the two Kudalians fell through a window
on a funny looking clunker of a vessel. It seemed astonishing that such a vehicle could
have made it up to the space station at all. Most people who had any form of technical
understanding, even some basic instinct of survival, would vehemently refuse to cross
even a mud paddle with such a derelict-looking apparatus. Yet, it was docking at the space
station and it looked as if it was operated.
Soon after the two Kudalians entered the spaceship Nellie Fortier, they were approached
by the captain-on-duty. Captain Walter Petersen had glanced over the passenger list and
seen the name of his old acquaintance Ben Sommer. To call the two gentlemen friends
would be suggesting too much but they had seen each other a couple of times and Captain
Walter Petersen had developed a good deal of respect for the adventurer Ben Sommer.
Even though both Kudalians had intended to continue saving money and travelling in the
cheapest category possible, that was with the cargo again in a cargo bay, this coincidence
of meeting an old acquaintance led to them being treated with cabins. Not all the cabins
had been booked and Captain Walter Petersen had sufficient leeway in decision-making to
allocate two of them to the admired Ben Sommer and his fellow Kudalian for a nominal
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charge. Captain Petersen felt good when he could grant favours and the Kudalians felt
good being able to have a shower after the heat they had endured when travelling on the
Ostia. The nominal surcharge for the cabins the captain still had to charge for the upgrade
from cargo to passenger area was so small that both Kudalians could not resist. Saving
money was fine but this spending was very much worth it.
The travel would most likely again turn fairly warm, as the hyperspace heat wave wasn’t
past them yet. The Arcus Stream was especially notorious for its energy tides but the
Vertmecon Stream also was known to be exposed to them; though at a somewhat lesser
degree, with lower peaks and shorter durations. A heat wave passing up or down the
Arcus Stream would find its way into the Vertmecon Stream, too, spreading into it and
then softly rolling out up its Source. Yet, it was a good thing being able to have a shower
in between getting sweat-soaked.
Both Kudalians quickly disappeared into their cabins, making use of their newly acquired
right to make use of the facilities the rooms provided. Then, soon after, they met again to
have something to eat. There was an eatery on the Nellie Fortier and they intended to
have a meal there. Taking food along through a hyperspace heat wave was tantamount to
breeding bacteria and thus did not serve well for saving money. The spaceship, on the
contrary, had stocked up at Station Katy Acoupa and now possessed a fresh reservoir of
foodstuff that would be prepared and served soon, as long as the Nellie Fortier would be
travelling in ordinary space. In less than two hours, the ship would enter hyperspace again
and then be subjected to the out-going yet still cumbrous energy tide.
To call the place where food was served a restaurant would be a little bit of a euphemism.
Yet, when the stomach growls then optical appearance is less of a dominant force in
decision making. The belly takes over the helm and the brain subsides into compliance,
steering the body toward the food.
Hardly had they settled down on to chairs in the spaceships chow hall, when it was upon
Tom Grand to greet an acquaintance. It was a fellow who wore rugged, actually more like
ragged, attire. The fallow in ragged attire was in company of a young chap, looking like
maybe sixteen years of age, who wore stuff of somewhat similar stile, though not as
ragged as the older of the two males. ‘They call him Barbie Doll because he’s looking the
opposite’, Tom Grand described his old acquaintance Seb Melch to his new acquaintance
Ben Sommer. Barbie Doll was a fellow short height and less humble waistline. Not wobbly
or fat he could best be described as sturdy or stocky. His bone structure had awarded him
with this kind of anti-hour-glass shape, with hips that were broad in comparison to his
shoulders and very strong thigh and a rear side resembling the bum of a duck. As Seb
Melch was neither cute nor handsome, the nick name Barbie Doll was a well-fitting
opposite term. Anyone could identify him soon by just thinking of the very opposite of a
Barbie doll. That contrary intention of a merciless nature had equipped the gentleman
with a huge conk. Below this hammer nose, voluptuous, full lips formed a broad mouth
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and above, two small eyes resembled those of a mole. All that was embedded in
abundantly crinkled skin alluring to the type of crocodile leather used for expansive lady
bags or boots. While any self-respecting real Barbie doll and any one made of plastic that
was intended to sell well came with an abundant mane, usually blonde, Seb Melch had
sparse dark hair with least of it on the top of his head and more remaining along a
horseshoe-shaped rim at the sides and rear of the head. This could be seen because the
gentleman was carrying his headgear in his hands rather than wearing it.
‘We’ll need a bigger table, best for five’, concluded Ben Sommer, when Barbie Doll and his
companion were approaching. Tom Grand had waved them to join himself and his
Kudalian compatriot. ‘I’m also looking forward to meet somebody here on this ship’, he
continued to explain. ‘I haven’t seen him yet but I’m confident he’ll also arrive soon and
come to the eatery before we enter hyperspace and it’ll get too warm again.’
In that moment, the two Varanoides also entered the eatery. They were soon followed by
other patrons, many of them from a host of different species. The hall slowly filled up a lot.
The eatery became a sample of all the space adventurers that were reaming the galaxy
during this time of history.
Several species had discovered hyperspace travel at a similar time and them all were both
competing and cooperating in the conquest of space; or rather planets, because the space
in between the planets was of little use. It was planets and the resources that they held
that attracted many different individuals from many different races. With hundred billion
stars in this galaxy alone, there was a lot of space to make use of.
To many places, people spread faster than institutions could follow. Thus, there were
considerable parts of the galaxy where there prevailed a certain lack of order and law.
Often, order was created before law, when people just assembled and took matters in
their own hands, setting up and enforcing the right of the stronger or the right of the
stronger group. Humans were at the forefront of the galactic land grab but some other
species were equally robust in their approach. Because there was a lot to grab, no major
conflicts had ensued between the races, though minor skirmishes were frequent. These
usually occurred in areas of the galaxy that did not firmly belong to any great state-like
unit and the incidents were mostly ignored by the large communities. It just wasn’t worth
wasting tremendous resources on a war and much smaller investments could achieve
much more. For the big states, there was no point of fighting over a planet when there
were hundreds and thousands to be discovered and claimed at marginal cost just in the
other direction.
For individuals or smaller groups, though, the economies often looked very different. A
Single person or a small group of humble means who could not afford just to call it a day,
leave and search for some other location to build up a new livelihood was much more
ready to fight tooth and nail over anything even so small. Some good place for a
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plantation or even just little more than subsistence farming or some gold nuggets to be
washed at some creek of some rocky piece of land could seem worth killing for to a person
who spent his last money on reaching there. That was true forth both the humans and
many other races. The resulting fights between individuals and small groups took place
among different species as well as within the own race. Actually, race and species had lots
importance when it came to becoming rich quick or even just making a living. It wasn’t
rare for groups made up of very individuals stemming from different species to quarrel
and fight with other equally mixed groups. This was the more the case, the higher the
stakes were. When some gold bonanza was in some individuals’ minds, then this thought
of gold or other precious resources allowing them to become rich quickly occupied the
brain so entirely that the hopefuls did not care much anymore with whom they fought
over it and against whom. It all turned into the simple yet only too familiar form of ‘you or
me’; or ‘us or them’, if groups were involved. It didn’t matter much anymore who that
‘you’ was.
For the densely settled planets, their federations and unions, their states and jurisdictions,
those free planets were usually no matter of concern. The strong states with their highly
industrialised economies and their large populations required only raw materials from
those worlds ‘out there’. These pioneer words, frontier planets, now horizons, locations of
opportunity, were delivering those raw materials at low cost. If one did not deliver, some
other would. Iron ore, bauxite, copper, nickel, all these minerals and raw materials could
be purchased in about any desired quantity at the going rate. The same held true for
agricultural commodities. There were plantations on every so many planets, farms, small
homesteads with just a single family or a single person, loggers living in tents, producers
big and small delivering anything that could only be wanted at the prevailing rate.
Controlling them, even trying to bring order and law to those places was an expensive
endeavour; not to mention the cost of actually going through with it. Dispatching a single
spaceship might to a planet for a law enforcement mission might cost more than the
annual produce of that world was worth. And then, there were so many of these planets;
so many millions. How should any government control worlds it does not even know they
exist?
In essence, the areas considered ‘out there’ were left alone, left to their own devices, be
that the law of the jungle, the rule of force, the first law or just any form of plain, bad old
chaos. For the citizen of the civilised worlds with their safety and security, it just wasn’t
worth getting engaged much with those out-lying areas. The big nations could purchase
anything from them, could sell about anything to them; and otherwise could not be
bothered to be disturbed by anything going on there. Most of what was going on anyway
never happened to be reported to those well-settled worlds. Only in cases when the
interests of a big community were affected, some reaction was ensuing. In other cases,
when the population of a planet had reached a level high enough for a more sophisticated
economy, the question of accession to a larger state unit arose. Such greater settlements
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were usually either lured or coerced into unions, alliances or accession. They were worth
it, though.
Earlier in the expansion of humanity over the galaxy, states and jurisdictions were fast to
lay claims on newly discovered planets but soon they realised, how vast the galaxy
actually was and how terribly expensive it was to really control all those areas. But actual
control was only one cost factor. Delivering all kinds of services over a large but sparsely
populated area came at a cost outpacing by far the potential revenue from that area.
Getting that revenue was anyway a huge problem because the people settling there or
just doing any kind of business on those planets were chronically reluctant to part with
any of their proceeds or property. What they held in their hands was theirs and would
never ever leave that hand voluntarily.
On the other hand, the very same people often started demanding all kinds of services
once they were officially declared to be part of a state or state-like structure. They
insisted on having rights. They not just rarely formed all kinds of organisations, trade
federations for the business owners to trade unions for the workers and all of them
heavily struggled for a bigger share of the common cake and lobbied the government to
help them the one or other way. They wanted all kinds of rights like the right to paid
holidays or free health care treatment and all kinds of facilities from hospitals to landing
platforms, fluent tap water aid after natural calamities, support against the competition
and protection against other produces, minimum standards for work and salaries. All
those were expensive and all those caused a lot of headache. Thus, among the ruling
elites of states it was often considered wise to keep these uncivilised locations out of the
own sphere of responsibility. It was much cheaper and much easier to deal with outsiders
than it was to paper the same people as insiders. At least that’s what the dominant forces
among the advanced civilisations had learned.
The same held true for claws, too. In those respects, the alien races humanity
encountered during the past centuries were similar. There were large colonies and states
of them on planets inhabited by billions of individuals. Those competed head to head in
complexity with the most sophisticated jurisdictions and state-type structures set up by
humans; in some cases surpassing them. Yet over the waste expense of the galaxy those
state-like structures had little command, either.
The free areas of the galaxy were thus the preserve of lawlessness and lack of order; if the
law of the jungle wasn’t counted as any form of structure. As a result, the free areas of the
galaxy were haunted by several peculiar forms of menaces. Within any civilised area,
those would not be tolerated at any cost but in the wide open space, there was not much
remedy. At times, people resorted to lynching but that was just another apparition of the
law of the jungle.
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The menaces haunting more or less all entrants into that great wide open space of the
galaxy came in several varieties. There were those brawlers and squabblers who were just
looking for a fight. They could not behave like that back home but once away from strict
control, they turned into violent scoundrel. They fought with each and everybody and
therefore often became victims in such altercations. Then, there were folks who preyed
on more recent new-comers. As was often the case, those with little more experience
fooled and ripped off those who lacked that knowledge. They abused trust and made a
living by parasitically absorbing other peoples’ capacity to make a living. Worst among the
troubles where those violent gangs of unscrupulous villains, brutal thugs, and casehardened criminal of all sorts who banded together for superior force. Instead of
exploiting the untouched nature of those newly discovered worlds or even to discover any
planet of their own, they concentrated on robbing and plundering from others what these
had obtained by their hard work and frugal parsimony. Those phenomena were not
limited to the humans alone but equally occurred among the other races with only some
differences in details. Over all, it was the same mess for all of them.
At times, every society was affected by fluctuations in the economy and even societies
doing well produced a certain number of people who just could not make it there. Some
of them as well as some individuals, who thought of getting rich quick by any means, no
matter how violent or abominable, took to the new worlds to force their luck. This, they
often did by forcing others to part with their property and sometimes tasking lives, too.
Actually, lives did not matter to that group.
For honest individuals, no matter of what race, the big galaxy offered opportunities to
make a living, though often at a very humble level. Somewhere or other, there was some
place where work and dedication alone could allow almost anyone to get along. Such
individuals who were driven by need but possessed decency and acted upon values turned
loggers or planters or gold diggers or miners. Some of the others turned into one of the
worst menaces ever. They joined movements of marauding vagabonds roaming across the
free areas of the galaxy where they soon devolved into forms of rawest barbarity that
humans could sink to; and individuals from other species went along the same lines.
When large communities were hit with phases of economic difficulties, the flow of
desperados to the free areas of the galaxy was swelling. Over-population at times
contributes its part. When each and every position to be held was already occupied,
people started looking for green pastures elsewhere. For them, it was not about the grass
being greener on the other side of the hill; for them it was about any grass at all. The vast
majority of these masses streaming out of the densely populated worlds toward the free,
wide open were decent, even good. Because of the total numbers involved, though, even
a tiny fraction ended up comprising astounding figures.
The most criminal and brutal elements among these desperados soon turned leaders of
the gangs they assembled from the despaired masses flocking to the outer worlds. In
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community with others, the newcomers soon lost even their last bit of remaining ethics
and turned to robbing plundering and murdering for a living. That seemed easier to them
than digging for gold or logging wood or growing and harvesting plants for themselves.
Often, it actually was easier, though of course the destined victims rarely volunteered into
their fate and often objected strongly, reverting to force to make their statement stronger.
The gangs that formed out of the criminals coming together in the free areas of the galaxy
were known to number up to three thousand heads each; humans and aliens often looting
together. The larger of these gangs could assail small settlements and at times resorted to
piracy; mostly surface based. They hi-jacked transport ships, ferries and that like when
those had landed on a planet. That was the opportunity of choice because it did not
required the pirates to have a spaceship of their own, and neither did they need any of
the skills to navigate, find and approach another spaceship. But once they had captured a
spaceship, they sometimes managed to steer it or they compelled the remaining crew to
operate it for them. Once in the possession of such a spaceship, those gangs of criminals
commonly used it to get to other places where they could commit further atrocities,
robbing and plundering. They rarely engaged in piracies for those required greater skills of
navigation and technical prowess.
That was the general situation in those free territories of the galaxy at this time. On the
spaceship Nellie Fortier, the situation was much more regulated and clear. Claybrinck and
his twenty followers were un-armed and few. Open violence wasn’t anything that could
look promising to them; even if Tom Grand was right in assuming that they were up to no
good. Therefore, they meant no direct threat to the order on the spaceship. That order
included a division of labour that worked well but wasn’t cherished by all the involved
parties.
The officers of the Nelly Fortier happened to be all humans. Most of them crew were from
an alien species widely known as Olives for their skin was of a very dark purple, like that
skin of ripe olives. The Olives themselves did not like that name and they had a different
term for their own race, of course. It was fairly difficult to pronounce for humans and
therefore, the much more descriptive term Olives was reigning supreme in spoken human
language.
The Olives came from a planet where the climate was largely hot and humid with
abundant rain. It was common for land to receive between ten and twenty meters of
annual rainfall. Like practically all other beings from that origin, the Olives had evolved
into water-resistant beings. They could stand such a climate well. They were good crew
members for those streams of the hyperspace where energy tides caused heat waves.
Many of those aliens were skilled in technical matters. They had a quick understanding of
things scientific and together with their very practical bend of mind they made good
engineers. They weakness was, though, that they found it just too hard to turn their skills
into income. Technical mastery did not translate into wealth for most of the Olives. Very
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few of them ever made it. Most of them kept on toiling on long positions where they
rendered much valuable work but did not gain equally. The other species including the
humans but also the Varanoides and anyone else were just too glad to exploit those
skilled engineers.
The Aduhika, as the Olives called themselves, of course realised that they did not get the
best deal. The Aduhika worked and worked but did not get anywhere with their toiling. At
the same time they saw members of the other species benefit from their work, that
others reap the results of their labour.
The canteen, where Tom Grand had met his old acquaintance Seb Melch and introduced
him to his new acquaintance Ben Sommer, was also run by Aduhika. The routine work was
conducted by robots, of course, but the organisation, maintenance, repair, choice of menu
and other chores remained with those aliens.
While Seb Melch was having an animated conversation with the two men from planet
Kudal, Claybrinck was talking about Seb Melch to his followers. ‘This fellow is by far not
such a big fool as he looks like. His appearance is ridiculous but actually he is a dangerous
person and we should all keep alert. I tell you that this guy is dangerous!’ he told the men
who were travelling with him.
‘Do you know that man, Colonel?’ asked one of the twenty rough-and-tough fellows. The
guy who had asked that was looking lean and very mean. His eyes were constantly
searching the surrounding. He moved smoothly and it was evident that he possessed great
agility. The skin of his hands and face showed that he had been through many adventures.
‘Do you mean that this look is a masquerade, Colonel?’ he wanted to know. As always and
like the others of that group of twenty he called his leader by that military rank.
‘Not quite a masquerade’, answered Claybrinck. ‘It’s his original style. He has made a
pattern out of looking funny; and thus harmless. But he’s one of the most dangerous spies
one could encounter’, stated Claybrinck.
‘You must be kidding, Colonel’, argued disparagingly yet another man from the group of
twenty. ‘You’re just taking us for a ride and see who’ll fall in for it!’ he claimed cocksure.
‘This fellow may be anything by no detective; not a governmental spy and not a private
detective, no bounty hunter and no hit-man either, Colonel!’, he maintained his position.
He was a strong guy, muscular and of somewhat above average height. His neck was
broad and brawny like that of a bull. His skin resembled that of a blacksmith or anyone
else who had often been exposed to the great heat of glowing iron. He was of middle age
and looked experienced.
‘Nope’, contradicted him Claybrinck. ‘No kidding’, he asserted his seriousness. ‘He’s said
to be some kind of crazy guy but actually he’s at good terms with about all the aliens. He
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knows their humour and he can connect well with them. That way, he manages to obtain
information and muster support that other investigators can’t even come close to.’
‘So, how’d you know all that, Colonel?’ echoed back the tough guy. He had not perceived
the very serious tone Claybrinck was speaking with.
‘Kind of encountered him in Derfla Station up the Mourisis hyperspace stream’, gave
Claybrinck back. ‘Didn’t really met him but have seen him from far and experienced what
he could do. We were forty men, and there for some business’, he narrated.’ Seb Melch
was after one of us; for bounty. He got the fellow and delivered him to gallows’, he told,
with some glassy look in his eyes. ‘We couldn’t do anything!’ Claybrinck stated firmly.
‘You could have stabbed forty holes in that guy!’ somebody from the group of twenty
called out. ‘Or shot forty holes in him or punched him to pulp!’
‘No, we couldn’t’, Claybrinck rebuked the caller. ‘Seb Melch was working with
cunningness more than with violence and he got the poor fellow singled out, tricked him
into a situation where he was alone and could be taken by surprise’, Claybrinck recounted.
‘He sets out with the greatest, most compelling kindness to enwrap his victim into his
machinations and lets the trap capture his prey before it’s possible for the poor guy to
even suspect a surprise attack, let alone prepare for it.’
‘Does he know you, Colonel?’ asked somebody from the group of twenty; now scared that
the presence of their leader might have attracted the attention of that horrible person.
‘I don’t think so’, Claybrinck calmed his men down. ‘Seb Melch couldn’t have known me
by that time and he must have been busy laying his trap for the other fellow’, he
commemorated. ‘Furthermore, it’s a long time ago and I have changed a lot since then’,
Claybrinck continued to assuage his followers. ‘However, I am of the opinion that it is
advisable for us to keep quiet and at ease, so that we do not attract his attention. He
should not come to believe that we’re up to something. Just see that you can avoid him
and if you happen to encounter him anywhere, just remain calm and pretend to know
nothing of him; who he is and what he did’, Claybrinck advised his companions.
The man of whom Claybrinck had warned his companions so insistently was engrossed
into a conversation with the two men from planet Kudal. All of them wore attire that was
remarkable in the one or other way but Seb Melch wore the stuff that was most unusual.
It was probably highly functional but it was certainly looking odd; and very much used.
The dress enrobing Seb Melch had many different pockets and they all looked full, holding
as much stuff altogether as other people might carry with a pantechnicon; almost. While
the attire looked worn, it wasn’t torn open anywhere. Several repaired damaged spot
could be seen, and not just a fed. All of them bore witness of the most solid, assiduous
stitching. The boots on the feet of Seb Melch were probably the most expensive part of
his visible equipment. They were definitively well worn-in. Like the other attire, they were
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kept in good marching order, mended to specification where required and creamed and
polished. It was obvious to the expert observer that Seb Melch preferred to keep his
equipment in good shape. He only carried along as much as he conveniently could by
himself. Therefore, each and every piece of equipment had to be in good shape. Nothing
should fail; nothing should turn out to be mere dead ballast.
Individuals sporting such attire were not too rare among the free areas of the galaxy. Both
the humans and those aliens who needed apparel or were culturally affected to wear
clothes could not help using what little they had as long as possible. They often remained
for years out of reach of any shop. They insisted on taking along only very reliable
equipment of high quality and then did all to keep it in order. Keeping their things in order
meant for these free-roaming pioneers that the equipment had to fulfil its function.
Optical beauty was none of the functions required from the stuff, though.
The youngster’s attire was of similar making, though of less age. As the boy appeared to
be about sixteen years of age, as therefore still growing, he could not have used the same
dress for years. The youngster had sandy blond hair, broad shoulders and massive bones.
His fingers, palms, wrists and knees gave evidence of being generously endowed by nature
with a very solid skeleton. The size of his hands and feet as well as the lack of facial hair
growth made it likely that the boy would still grow a bit taller. His face looked very serious
and he gave the resemblance of a youngster who knew to go his own way even at his
comparatively tender age. His defiant countenance was accompanied by an aura of
independence and survival skills that distinguished him from the average boy of his age,
who might feel rebellious but had never proofed the capability of going his way alone. The
youngster’s attire had pouches for ammunitions and his belt held an empty holster. It
wasn’t allowed to take weapons along inside most spaceships, though. They had to be
deposited at the time of entry. Yet, the attire’s features pointed to the youngster being
used to bearing arms.
On the table with the three other men, the boy sat silent while the others talked. He was
a good listener. That also distinguished him from many of his age group, who prefer to
talk even though they don’t know what they are saying. Currently, he heard what Tom
Grand was telling about his intentions. Tom told that he had come along the Mourisis
Stream in hyperspace and then changed to travel along the Arcus Stream where he had
met his fellow Kudalian Ben Sommer. Tom Grand wanted to join his team of loggers again
who were working on a planet named Pavana. This planet had a climate frequently
producing strong winds. At the same time, it offered largely fertile ground for plant
growth. To withstand the almost incessantly blowing strong winds, the trees there grew
very solid and strong wood. The wood growing there was nearly as hard and resilient as
average steel and came with the added benefit of not corroding. It was rich in intercalated
minerals, mainly silicon oxide, giving it tremendous resistance to pressure. The wood’s
fibres gained their strength on the molecular level from carbon double bindings and
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therefore furnished the wood with great tear-resistance. The minerals and natural oils
with highly-effective disinfectant properties made the wood very durable and helped it
resist mould and rotting. It was a great material for many kinds of furnishings and even for
construction. It sold well to many receptive markets. Wood was a commodity, of course,
and the margins after transport costs were slim. Logging allowed honest individuals with
health, strength and endurance to make a living, though; and that was what Tom Grand
and his fellow woodmen did.
It turned out that Seb Melch had intentions of taking the same way. Therefore, they
would have some more time to exchange their stories. The spaceship Nellie Fortier as
nether as big nor was fast as the Ostia and she still had to cover a good distance. That was
going to take time. Seb Melch decided that it was advisable to take care of the
accommodation for himself and his young companion. He excused himself to the others,
stood up and went away from the chow hall to the spaceship’s passengers’ office, where
he asked for two cabins, one each for himself and one for the youngster. He had not yet
booked an so he could ask for two cabins close to those of Ben Sommer and his old
acquaintance Tom Grand. To the astonishment of the quartermaster who happened to be
in the passengers’ office, Seb Melch paid with pure gold.
On the way Seb Melch accidentally spotted Claybrinck. Somehow, it struck Seb’s mind
that he must have seen that fellow before. Seb Melch had an excellent memory. It would
be wrong to claim that he never forgot anyone whom he had ever seen. To attribute such
skills to him would be a shameless exaggeration. To state that he probably remembered
people about ten times better than the average person could recall them would come
closer to the truth. That was already an astonishing ability and it was very helpful for Seb
Melch. It was good for him that he could identify many people without the need for
access to information technology equipment.
Claybrinck had also glanced at Seb Melch and he realised that the others fellow’s eyes had
rested on him for a moment longer than would indicate a casual look. Claybrinck had the
discomforting feeling that Melch might somehow still remember him. Unlikely as he had
previously perceived it to be, that risk might just have materialised. Claybrinck curses
himself. Why did he have to go that way in just that very same moment? Sure, the call of
nature had to be followed. But why could he not just have postponed his obedience for
some few moments.
On the way back from the passengers’ office to the chow hall, Seb Melch came across the
two Varanoides. They had spotted him before even Seb’s keen eyes had registered their
distinctive red. Varanoides had big, sharp eyes. They had excellent vision and could
distinguish colour much better than even humans. They eyes were adapted to very bright
light that was rich in ultra violet. The large area of binocular vision to yielded an
outstanding depth perception. That enabled the Varanoides to judge distances and
relative speed between objects much better than even humans, who were already
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decently good at it. The Varanoides’ eyes retina was covered entirely with cone cells for
enhanced colour vision. Those contained a special biological oil working as protection
against ultra violet rays. Varanoides could spot any movement superbly but were fairly
week at recognising anything that did not move. They had inferior night vision, too.
When Seb Melch walked back from the passengers’ office to the chow hall, he was moving,
of course. Therefore, the Varanoides had spotted him easily. They looked at him as if
expecting to be addresses. Seb Melch greeted them in their own language. The Varanoide
language was a heck of a difficulty for almost any human and even Seb Melch spoke it
with a terrible accept. The Varanoides, though, were glad that he tried. Melch had
acquired an astonishingly large vocabulary in the Varanoide language and his command
over the grammar of that tongue was equally good. Only his pronunciation was lacking.
Still, Melch could be understood by the Varanoides, though, and he could comprehend
about anything that was told to him.
The Varanoides recounted that they were coming back from some business Old Mubanec.
That was a planet where much commercial exchange was happening. Actually, the current
settlement there wasn’t even that old. The ad been found petrified boned and ancient
ruins, though, that pointed to earlier settlements. If those had been autochthonous of
from alien races was still a matter of debate, though most scientists now supported the
view that Old Mubanec had been home of an ancient civilisation that could not make it
through the times.
The two Red Scales reported that they had bought some goods for their compatriots with
whom they were roaming around and were no returning to them. They also told that for
them, life had been decent since they last met with Seb. There was peace among the
different clans of their tribe and also, more or less, a state of peace between the tribes of
Varanoides in all the areas where they were moving around. The two Red Scales
estimated that they would have to travel for about two weeks more till they could reach
the rest of their group. It might take a bit longer, though, because some pressing matter
had inserted itself in between their other obligations. The Varanoides remained silent
about the precise nature of that sudden issue. Seb Melch guessed that it might have
something to do with a personal obligation or possibly with a matter of honour. As they
were unwilling to give any details and he knew their habits, he did not try to enquire
further. They would tell as much as they wanted and not a single word more. That much
Melch knew about Varanoides.
Seb soon learned from Tom Grand about the likely cause and content of that pressing
matter that had inserted itself between the other tasks that the two Varanoides had in
their mind. He did not even shudder any more at the thought of it. Those were the rules of
life in the free territories of the galaxy; the law of the jungle ruled. Everyone was as right
or wrong as he could enforce. Polite manners and adherence to some rules of decent
behaviour made getting along with others easier, though. There were enough reasons for
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clashes of interest among the individuals flocking toward the free areas and roaming
around there. There was no need of making enemies by foolish show of uncontrolled
aggression. If anyone found delight in the plight of others or in putting others in any bad
situation or embarrassing them, he had to cope with the results for himself.
In return for telling him the story of Claybrinck misbehaving with the Varanoides, Seb
Melch narrated to his new travel companions some stories about those two red-scaled
aliens. They were usually moving along the Iostok Stream of hyperspace and could
regularly be seen on worlds adjoining that pathway. They were trading in all kinds of small
goods and at times ventured along other major hyperspace routes. From there, they
frequented the smaller and lesser travelled by-streams, departing from the major
hyperspace streams. Along those minor routes, they catered for the trading needs of the
scattered smaller groups and individuals of their race; if they had knowledge of their
whereabouts and considered them trustworthy for trade. A few times the bigger and
older of the two Varanoides had mentioned belonging to some group himself but he had
never detailed it to Seb Melch. Also, the Varanoide had earlier made comments hinting to
some permanent location where he had a fixed abode. No details were ever divulged
about that either; nor about the coordinates of that place and not about the resemblance
of that home.
While those gentlemen were busy discussing past and present of their own adventured
between the stars of the free areas of the galaxy; as well as those of others, Claybrinck
was busy wondering what they were all up to. There was this one fellow who he
somehow remembers of having seen before and then there was this other fellow of whom
he remembered very clearly that he saw him before but had hoped to never see him again.
In this big galaxy, all those people had to come together on this very same spaceship.
Claybrinck had never expected getting himself into such a string or unpleasant surprises
on the Nellie Fortier. Actually, he had not even known the name of the Nellie Fortier just
until he entered that spaceship on Station Katy Acoupa. That little spaceship was too
small for such a big coincidence. Claybrinck felt bad when he was wondering what was
going; especially, when he had to suspect that something not quite favourable for him
was in the making. He was the one to cause mischief on others, not those others on him.
There was something decidedly wrong. The first step of rectifying that wrong was to
acquire situation awareness.
When Claybrinck looked aground, his eyes fell on one of the Olives, or rather Aduhika.
When written with letters, the term Aduhika looks so harmless but who ever tried to
pronounce it the proper way, like the Olives themselves would say it, will remember how
hard it was. Claybrinck, though, was of astonishing ability to act according to need. He had
earlier already made the experience that the Olives detested being called Olives. They
very much cherished if they were addressed by the real name of their race. As much as
Claybrinck was a fool when intoxicated, when he would pick up useless fights and
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needlessly insult people, both human and alien alike, he was cunning when sober. Being
sober was a state that he tried to avoid but for his own benefit failed to continuously
achieve. It was to some degree the lack of supply that often kept him clear for weeks and
sometimes months. During some long stretch of sober times, Claybrinck had learned to
properly pronounce a few words of the Aduhika language; especially the term Aduhika
itself. That skill he wanted to use now.
When Claybrinck saw that the Aduhika was looking his way, his eyes met the glance.
When he was sure that the alien had recognised his view, he waved at the Olive with a
friendly gesture. The alien stopped and stood for a moment, unsure what to do.
Claybrinck stood up and started moving slowly toward the Aduhika. That broke the ice
completely and the alien came toward Claybrinck and his group.
It turned out that this Aduhika could speak the human lingua franca without any strange
accent. He could converse in standard parlance at ease. That was no mean feat for an
Olive. For them, the human lingua franca was equally difficult to learn and master as it
was for humans to acquire fluency in the Aduhika tongue.
Some of the Olives were into alcohol the same way as some humans were. They desolate
professional situation made them equally receptive to the booze as the lower classes of
human society. Alcohol had the same effects on the Aduhika body as it exercises on the
human organism; possibly even a bit more so. Claybrinck, who was very much into
spirited drinks himself, asked the Olive if he could treat him for a glass or two. The alien
was delighted and accepted with pleasure. Claybrinck saw the Olive’s eyes look at one
certain bottle among the available drinks. It was good stuff; not cheap but worth the
investment, thought Claybrinck. He took the bottle and poured generously from it into a
glass which he have to the Aduhika. Then he took for himself. They clinked their glasses
and enjoyed the drink.
It was obvious that the alien felt good about the treatment he received; even more so
than he cherished the alcohol itself. Soon, the Aduhika’s curiosity about the human’s
motivation for such friendly behaviour surfaced. ‘You folks usually aren’t that much
obliging and courteous to us’, the alien wondered. ‘May I know why you treat me so well?’
he asked.
‘All individuals should be judged by their own merit’, answered Claybrinck. ‘To me, a good
fellow is a good fellow, no matter what race. I judge them by their deeds, not by their
shape and colour’, he stated jovially. ‘According to the tools at your belt you must belong
to the crew who keeps this spaceship running. That’s certainly a demanding job and it’s so
important for us passengers that you do it well. We depend on you guys to do a good job
for us to get where we need to get safely. So, when I saw you, I thought that I would just
like to thank you for your work’, explained Claybrinck his courteousness.
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‘That’s right’, agreed the Aduhika. ‘I’m working with the machines and it’s hot there even
for me, with all the excess heat from the engines in addition to the hyperspace energy
tides. It’s tough and it isn’t well paid. But somehow they just won’t let me become officer,
no matter how hard I work’, the Olive complained.
‘I’ve had my ups and down in my life’, Claybrinck endorsed the statement. ‘I wasn’t born
with a silver spoon in my mouth. I had hard times in my life. So, I sympathise a lot with
others who are at a low, too. I’m not swimming in gold now but I have enough to treat a
good fellow well and I like to share the humble means that I have with friendly folks’,
predicated Claybrinck.
‘That’s very generous’, said the Olive and held his empty glass ostentatiously in front of
Claybrinck’s face. The human understood the cue and filled the glass up again. The high
strength alcohol, drunk quickly on empty stomach, had already taken its toll. The alien
had a slightly glassy look in his eyes and his face and body had become somewhat more
relaxed.
‘Of course, even I have to do well in my business for being able to share’, Claybrinck
stated. ‘I need to have in order to give’, he explained. ‘One of the most important factors
in business always is information’, Claybrinck went on to expound. ‘The more and the
better information I have, the better are my chances of doing well in my endeavours.’
The Aduhika looked at Claybrinck with motionless eyes. He had emptied his second glass
of the highs strength drink and had become quite slow in his motions; and possibly in his
thoughts as well. It was to Claybrinck’s advantage that individuals in this mental state
consider themselves as at the peak of their intelligence. ‘If there is anything where we
could do business together, I’m in for it’, announced the drunk Olive who now thought of
himself to be both very smart and very lucky. This might be a chance to earn some
additional income, he thought. He believed to be very cunning now.
‘You see, me and my friends, we’re going up the Vertmacon Stream for some business on
planet Satuvina Mūla’, Claybrinck started out to explain. ‘As it so happened, we got to
know that some of the people whom we wanted to meet at our destination are also on
board of this spaceship. Somebody here heard their names. They don’t know about us,
though. It’s good to have information on the people we want to do business with. When
we’re face to face with them, they might behave very different from their normal conduct.
So, we want to know how these folks demeanour really is like when they feel unobserved.
Of course, we ourselves can’t be around them and look at them all the time. They’ll
remember us when we finally meet them officially. Therefore, we need a reliable friend
who can cast an eye on them and tell us a little about how they are and what they are
really up to.’
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That sounded like easy work. The Aduhika was both drunk and flat broke. Being financially
on the rocks and with his thoughts circling around more booze, the Olive just asked:
‘What’s in for me?’ He thought himself very smart and a tough negotiation. ‘Get that ice,
or else no dice’, the alien quoted a line that he remembered from somewhere. He wasn’t
fully sure about the precise meaning but he felt it to be great to drop that line and he
reckoned that it meant that he wanted a handsome pay-out for his service.
Claybrinck answered that the reward would be proportional to the utility of the
information retrieved. The Olive wasn’t happy about that. He could not judge the value of
the intelligence he’d be able to collect and the other one could always pretend it to be
worthless. Claybrinck understood that he’d not get any further here and mentioned an
amount that he’d pay in any case and a bonus for especially valuable information
reported. Now, the Aduhika agreed. Claybrinck told him some names and gave the alien
directions to the table, where Tom Grand, Ben Sommer, Seb Melch and the youngster
were sitting. In addition, he described persons to be observed.
‘You see, there is no danger involved in my request and it’s a very easy job’, Claybrinck
told the Aduhika. Repeating the number that he had mentioned earlier, he advertised the
promised reward. ‘It’s all entirely legal, no regulations are touched, no ethics violated, no
ship rules transgressed, no harm done to anyone. We just want to know a bit better the
people whom we’re later supposed to trust. So, you see, it’s a matter of trust and I do
fully trust you, to help us out with this’, Claybrinck complimented the Olive into going. It
worked and the fairly intoxicated alien stood up and moved into the direction of the ship’s
passenger canteen.
The drink Aduhika had already an idea of how to justify his presence in the chow hall.
Some friend of him was supervising the canteen robots there, both the waiters and the
cleaners. This friend was always eager to swap some hours for exchange of some more
free time. When it came to the humans and the Varanoides, then both did not seem to
mind anyway, which Aduhika was working. Actually, it seems to this one, that the other
species just regarded all Aduhika the same; looking the same, behaving the same, talking
the same. Nothing was more wrong than that, but to many Aduhika it seemed to be like
that.
The Aduhika came in many sizes and shapes. There were tall one and short, broad ones
and slim, muscular and tender, they had different noses and different eyes and the
patterns on their skin were very individual. To see those patters on the skin, it was helpful
to have eyes that could see in the near ultra-violet. The Aduhika’s origin was a planet with
a large very moist climate. The climate was hot and cloudy and rainfall was frequent and
yielding abundantly. The atmosphere was usually saturated with water vapour to the limit.
With a largely overcast, cloudy sky, using all available light was an advantage. Water in
the gas phase, vapour in another term, absorbed near-ultra violet at about the same rate
as red light. The light that penetrated through that atmosphere best was in the colour
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range of violet and deep blue; it came in at a wavelength of 418 nanometre, where the
absolute minimum of absorption was. Having eyes that could gain additional information
from adjoining wavelengths of light was beneficial, of course. The Aduhika were able to
see in that near-ultra violet, humans could not. Therefore, the Aduhika could see the
unique patterns on each other’s’ skin while the humans were literally blind to them.
While the Olives didn’t like the feeling that they were looking all the same to the humans,
despite actually being so very different, all the humans looked very much alike to them. At
least those Aduhika who just came into contact with humans needed several months,
often more than half a year, to start distinguishing the differences between those humans.
After some time, once they were used well enough to the sight of humans, the Olives
knew them from each other. For the humans, it was the same the way round; after some
time, despite their inability to see the skin patters that were visible only in ultra-violet
light, they could know Olive from another. The same held true for the other species like
the Varanoides. Seb Melch for example knew them for so long that he could recognise his
friends from among a large crowd.
So, it was obviously possible to distinguish even the Aduhika from each other and to
remember individuals among them. But because the Olives rarely had professional
success and seldom found great wealth, their society was not frequently looked for. It was
a fact of life that successful individuals attracted others who wanted to make friends with
them. That was the case for all those species that had started discovering the galaxy at
about the same time. The Aduhika were liked for their technical talent and hired for jobs
requiring those skills. Because the Olives just couldn’t manage to make much money out
of their talents and rise up in hierarchies, they were perceived as boring and hardly ever
anybody thought it really worth the while to befriend one of them.
While the bibulous Aduhika who had been prompted by Claybrinck was on his mission to
collect intelligence about the two Kudalians and their companions, the spaceship Nellie
Fortier left hyperspace for a short stopover. Some passengers were to board the ship,
some were to leave her and good got loaded and unloaded, too. Leaving the hyperspace
with its enduring energy tidy awarded a welcome respite to anyone who had suffered
from the heat. Even the Aduhika, who could stand heat comparatively well, were glad
about the Nellie Fortier cooling down again.
The stopover took place when the small group of Sommer, Grand, Melch and the
youngster were all in their cabins and having a rest. Among the individuals entering the
spaceship was a small family consisting of husband, wife and daughter. Husband and wife
were in their later thirties and the daughter was just thirteen years of age. They had
booked cabins and quickly disappeared into them. The family’s surname was Sherbetor
and the gentleman was engineer by profession. He was to meet Ben Sommer.
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The meeting had to wait. Ben Sommer as well as the other gentlemen from his small
group including the youngster had all retreated to their cabins. They came out only after a
good sleep. On the Nellie Fortier, like on most other spaceships, a daily routine was
maintained. It had turned out that for most people, keeping up with the familiar rhythm
was most convenient. It was Mister Sherbetor for whom Ben Sommer had wanted
another chair on the table where he and the others had talked for so long just before their
long sleep. The Nellie Fortier had taken a bit longer than Sommer had anticipated and
therefore, Sherbetor had not been able to join already back then.
The two Kudalians and Seb Melch had arranged for meeting again at the breakfast table.
The Sherbetors joined them there. Ben Sommer was astonished that Mister Sherbetor had
taken his wife and especially his daughter along. In return, the gentleman explained that
he did not want to leave them alone for such a long time as the project would take.
As Sherbetor and Sommer were discussing the matter of a long stay so openly, the others
also grew curious. They were not told anything, though. Ben Sommer made a great secret
out of his plans and he had obviously told Sherbetor to keep any revealing details for
himself, too.
The Nellie Fortier was by far not as fast as the Ostia and the distance to cover was long.
The travel therefore continued for some more time. During that time, Claybrinck regularly
conferred with the Aduhika whom he had bribed to provide him with intelligence about
the group of travellers that he was interested in. By and by, Claybrinck got ever more
information that was useful for him. To the Olive he pretended to be very much
disinterested in what the alien could tell him. Claybrinck had no intention to let the
Aduhika know what precisely he was really curious about. Even less so, he desired to let
the Olive in of how he would purpose to use that information.
Through the alcohol-loving Olive, Claybrinck learned that Ben Sommer was talking a lot
about a project with an engineer by the name of Sherbetor. The Aduhika could not tell
what the discussions were about precisely but he could relay that the project must be of
non-negligible dimensions. Something was to be done on some planet and it would be
profitable to such a degree that all the involved were made men afterwards. The Olive
told Claybrinck that Sommer and Sherbetor were often looking at the engineer’s mobile
mini computer.
Claybrinck suspected that there was relevant data to be discovered on that little machine.
When his companions asked why he was so curious about what Ben Sommer, Tom Grand,
Seb Melch, and Sherbetor were doing and discussing, he answered the following: ‘Earlier, I
thought it necessary to know their intentions and actions to be safe from them. Now, I
feel that there is some nice profit to be made from knowing what’s going on. We’re just
some poor wanderers and we have to see to it that we make ends meet. We had to pay
for our travel, we had to pay for some other expenses and we will have to cover certain
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expenditures. When fate presents us with the opportunity to make some nice additional
gain on the fly, we should grab it fully determined with both hands. We’ll anyway have
good employment for all additional funds that we can get our hands on and you know
that our finances are lean.’
Some of Claybrinck’s companions were frowning and nobody from his group seemed
cheerful. ‘What can we do on-board the Nellie Fortier, Colonel?’ asked one. ‘We’ll get
caught. That’s all.’
Claybrinck raised his finger like an elementary school teacher lecturing an obstinate child.
‘Such an affair is dangerous or not, depending on how it I approached. I am not the person
to approach it the wrong way. If you follow me faithfully, everything will turn out well,
this coup as well as our other plans’, Claybrinck insisted.
‘I just hope so much that other think of yours is not a hoax, Colonel’, moaned some other
member of the gang.
‘I know perfectly well that it’s for real’, Claybrinck gave back. ‘I know what I know. It may
not occur to me to give you a detailed report now. Once we’re in place, I will inform you
to the fullest. Until then, you must give trust me and believe me when I tell you that over
there are the resources that will be sufficient for all of us for the rest of our lives; and for
our future children and children’s children and beyond. Now, we better want to avoid all
unnecessary chatter and would rather wait quietly to learn what else reports the stupid
Olive will bring us’, the gang’s leader extoled his plan and the fortune to be gained by it.
Sometime after, the said Olive confirmed to Claybrinck that there must be valuable data
on that engineer’s mobile mini computer. The information saved there must include
coordinates and details of what was to be found there. The Aduhika could not get any
information as to the coordinates themselves and information on what it was that the
coordinates pointed to. He reported that Sommer and Sherbetor kept that secret even to
their newly found companions, despite having invited them to join in on the venture. Yet
their talks revealed that whatever the treasure was, it must be substantial.
Claybrinck decided that it was time for some action. The travel would ultimately come to
an end. Following the Sherbetor and Sommer later on might prove difficult to continue.
From the drunkard alien, Claybrinck learned that the portable little computer that the
engineer was using had a wireless connection to the spaceships passenger information
system. After two glasses of booze more, the Olive revealed enough of that system’s
specifications to allow the computer hackers among Claybrinck’s gang set up a swift
intrusion. Claybrinck treated the Aduhika with all that had remained in the bottle of booze
to take care of the alien’s memory and availability for useful interrogation for at least
sometime. Then, the gang’s hackers used the Olive’s access code word and signature to
lock into the Nellie Fortier’s passenger information system and from there they hacked
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the portable small computer that Sherbetor used. The Spaceship’s passenger information
system did not pose much hindrance to the hackers. The engineer’s computer was better
protected. The later took the Claybrinck’s hackers more than two hours to get in.
The information that was retrieved by the gangsters from Sherbetor’s portable little
computer turned out to be what Claybrinck had suspected. Success proved him right and
the reputation he enjoyed among his twenty followers increased. There were coordinates
and there was geological information pertaining to the location detailed. Furthermore,
there was, among the notices that the engineer had recorded for himself, one that hinted
to Tom Grand also being involved in some profitable business of his own. That notice gave
some specifics concerning Grand’s group and their accumulated yield.
When Claybrinck had seen the information obtained, he again felt that it was required to
make a decision fast. He determined that action had to be taken swiftly in order to
outdistance the others. Being ahead of them was vital for the success of the plan that had
formed almost immediately in his mind.
Having access to one of the spaceship’s computer systems, Claybrinck searched for
vulnerabilities of the Nellie Fortier. From the fairly open passenger communication system
he could only see the lifeboats and their detailed specifications. The computer systems
controlling the lifeboats as well as the airlocks were independent. Access to them proved
too difficult for the gang’s hackers; at least for achieving it within the available time limits.
But Claybrinck soon considered that very independence of the control systems a boon and
a bane for the others whom he wanted to out-pace. After more than an hour of further
searching, he found something fitting to his ideas. It was some tiny piece of software
regulating apart of the toilet waste disposal system. Claybrinck manipulated in in such a
way that it caused constant loss of air from the Nellie Fortier.
As expected by Claybrinck, the loss of air was recorded by the spaceships control systems
and the reaction was precisely what the gangster boss had anticipated. The crew could
not find the reason for the loss of atmosphere, as Claybrinck had carefully hidden it. The
crew would ultimately discover the reason but for not, immediate action was being taken.
As usual in such circumstances, the captain of the Nellie Fortier ordered the ship to steer
to a planet with non-toxic atmosphere of equal pressure to the one that was to prevail
inside the spaceship. Soon, the Nellie Fortier would also leave hyperspace. It was a matter
of probably ten or fifteen minutes; certainly not longer than half an hour. Bringing the
Nellie Fortier into such an atmosphere with equal pressure would provide additional time
for searching the leakage and for taking care of the loss of air. That the ship was
experiencing such a leakage for still undiscovered reasons made the captain and the
officers worry. The rate of loss was such that something had to be done about it, though it
did not immediately threaten the life on board the spaceship.
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Claybrinck could see all that was going on because he was still remaining connected to the
computer systems of his interest. He rushed his gang to the airlock where the biggest
lifeboat was behind. Retaining access to the ship’s computer system, the gangster boss
found the connection of the signals cable belonging to the emergency equipment. He
opened a lid that allowed access to that cable and other stuff and cut the cable. A failure
alarm would flare up on the bridge of the Nellie Fortier but the crew would currently b too
busy to do more than take notice of it. First things first, the captain would decide,
Claybrinck estimated. He was right with his judgement. Then, a few moments later, just
before the Nellie Fortier left hyperspace, Claybrinck had the airlock forced open and
ordered his men to board the lifeboat. This lifeboat had a small hyperspace drive of its
own. Therefore, it was ideal for Claybrinck’s plan of outpacing his competitors. Just before
the gangster boss had the lifeboat detach from the Nellie Fortier, Claybrinck left some ugly
surprises back on the spaceship. He unleashed several computer vermin into diverse
systems of the Nellie Fortier. They were to create confusion and hold up the spaceship for
sufficient time to grant the gangsters a handsome advance.
Once the lifeboat with the gangsters had left the spaceship comfortable behind,
Claybrinck again looked at the information obtained from the engineer’s hacked small
portable computer. Tom Grand’s group was engaged in some exploration or preliminary
exploration activity on a site up the Sev Kerel Stream of hyperspace. It departed, or joined,
depending on the direction of travel, from the Arcus Stream of hyperspace near two
lonesome planets named Iolut and Sev Levrya. Claybrinck faintly remembered of having
passed by there once or twice. Nothing important had happened there and so he did not
remember it very well anymore. Somewhere up that Sev Kerel Stream, there was a yet
practically un-inhabited free planet where Tom Grand’s group of about twenty were doing
whatever they were doing there. The notice found among Sherbetor’s data pointed to
some form of hoarding, though, that should have a good value.
Among the same notices, there was also one suggesting that Seb Melch possessed nonnegligible resources of gold. That Seb Melch was carrying gold with him came to a surprise
for Claybrinck. He found it to be an added motivation to settle the score with Seb Melch,
who had once delivered one of Claybrinck’s associates to the gallows.
Reading through the information involuntarily provided by Sherbetor, the gangster boss
pondered for a while over sketches of several small buildings. They were embedded into
the rough draft layout of some planetary surface area with a notion of the surrounding
landscape. Claybrinck calculated how many people would live within those buildings and
for how long.
From looking at the coordinates of those two locations, the place where Tom Grand’s
group was staying and the position where Ben Sommer and Sherbetor were heading,
Claybrinck estimated that it was possible to conduct both coups one after the other.
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Actually, the way to Ben Sommer’s destination was leading past the place where Tom
Grand’s business was conducted, whatever that business consisted of.
With the small lifeboat that the gangsters had captured, they were able to navigate
smaller, much narrower streams in hyperspace than the bigger spaceships could.
Therefore, while the Nellie Fortier or other bigger spaceships were faster than the small
lifeboat on the on the major hyperspace streams, the little vessel could get along well
through many a minor flux.
Claybrinck, not in the possession of a stolen hyperspace-capable vessel, set up a route to
minimize travel time. He planned to navigate some smaller channels to come back to the
grand Arcus Stream, follow it up till the place where the Sev Kerel current was departing
and then go along that one till he would meet the planet where Tom Grand’s team was
holding out. From there, he was again planning to make his way through minor to very
minor current further up to the coordinates where Ben Sommer must have discovered a
treasure or treasure-like fortune of precious minerals, gold or whatever.
When planning his route, Ben Sommer had minimized travel cost. Tom Grand had done
the same. Taking first the grand spaceship Ostia up the Arcus Stream and then changing
over at Station Katy Acoupa to board the Nellie Fortier which was going along the
Vertmacon Stream meant a detour when calculated in light years but it also implied a
considerable saving in terms of the cost of the fare. Travelling as passenger with big
spaceships was much cheaper than going by smaller vessels booked for some individual
travel. And then, on the long-haul stretches like those following the Arcus Stream, the big
spaceships were usually much faster than the smaller ones, too. Therefore, it was cheaper
to travel over a longer distance with a big spaceship than taking the more direct with a
small one.
But before thinking of arriving at their original destination, the crew of the Nellie Fortier
had to think of reaching a decently safe place to find the leakage in their spaceship and to
remedy it, it possible at all. For that purpose, the Nellie Fortier had exited hyperspace and
was not heading toward a planet with suitable atmosphere. The gasses there had to be
non-toxic and of sufficient density, about equal to the desired level of atmospheric
pressure inside the spaceship. In between all the action, one bridge officer’s glance fell on
the control panel indicating the status of the lifeboats. According to the lights flaring up
there, another one of those lifeboats was missing. It was much smaller than the first but
still had hyperspace drive. The officer was not amused. He did not know, though, if the
indication was correct or not. For some minutes now, the control panels on the bridge had
played mad, giving all kinds of signals in rapid sequence. Those indications didn’t fit
together, made no sense and turned out to be hoaxes when checked but they were
definitively disturbing. One could never really know if an alarm was a real warning or just
the effect of some little data devil that had found its way into the system.
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The crew of the Nellie Fortier wasn’t used to such nonsense. They spaceship was usually
one of the more reliable kind. The Nellie Fortier was used for fairly calm, main-stream
hyperspace travel along decently frequented routes and over well-mapped streams. What
was happening to the crew now had not happened ever before. That a spaceship had an
emergency like an atmospheric leak happened once in a while. The usual procedure was
to reach the nearest non-lethal environment and take care of the ship there. That’s what
the crew was doing now. That the spaceship’s control panels became lunatic was truly
exceptional, though.
The officer who had seen the control panel indicating the departure of a second lifeboat
considered for a moment whether he should inform the captain or not. Remembering
standard procedures, he soon came to the conclusion that he better told the commander
about the signal. Shall the captain decide if there was anything to be done about and what
action was to be taken, if any. That’s what a captain was fore, after all. In the very same
moment, when he approached the spaceship’s commander to tell about the flashing
warning lamps, another officer also had to tell the captain something urgent. ‘Here is a
message that two Varanoides borrowed one of our lifeboats’, the other officer said. The
captain looked back with eyes telling clearly: ‘’Why me?’ Then, he turned to the officer on
his other side, because it was apparent that this one also had something to report.
‘The control panel for the lifeboats gives indications that the smaller one of the
hyperspace-capable vessels is also gone’, the officer notified his captain. Those two
messages confirmed each other.
‘We’ll get the ship to safety and only then we’ll take care about those other issues’, the
captain decided.
There was a range of other issues that pertained to different individuals and that required
being taken care of. While the Nellie Fortier was heading toward a suitable planet,
indicated as Beregana Rekata on maps of the galaxy, Sherbetor found out that his little
mobile computer had been hacked. The engineer immediately informed Ben Sommer,
who was absolutely not delighted. Sommer told Tom Grand and Seb Melch about the
hacked small computer of Sherbetor. All suspected that there might be some connection
to the Nellie Fortier’s unfortunate fate. It had not escaped the passengers that the
spaceship had left hyperspace and was heading toward a rarely frequented planet. Many
of the passengers were quite agitated. Like it was customary in such situations, several
passengers assumed it to be their expected duty to get themselves into panic. As if the
crew of the Nellie Fortier had not already enough to do, these frightened milquetoasts
bothered them with their self-important requests and kept insisting on the display of
irrational behaviour.
Luckily, not all passengers were like that. In order to contain the contagion of panic, the
crew simply turned to be unavailable to these highly emotional creatures but closing
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several doors and not opening them anymore. That wasn’t the nicest and most friendly
behaviour that a ship’s crew could show toward paying passengers but it was the only
thing they crew could do at that moment. The crew had to get the ship in safety and there
was no benefit at all in letting themselves be molested by a flood of questions and
accusations. They were literally all in the same boat. The best actions were those taking
care of the material matter, not those that involved any talking, shouting, crying; and
especially not panicking.
Other passengers, in fact the majority of them, did not panic, though. Some folks even
enjoyed the soft thrill of the diversion. Others simply remained calm, like Ben Sommer
and his group. Those experienced galactic wanderers could estimate well the amount of
danger that was imminent and they understood what they could do about it. The danger
was imminent but of limited proportions and they could do nothing about it.
To everyone’s great relief, it did not take long till the Nellie Fortier reached the planet
Beregana Rekata. It was a rocky, dry place with an atmosphere dominated by nitrogen
and containing some traces of other inert gasses, mainly helium, and some tiny fractions
of neon and argon. There were some sandy stretches of land but the captain preferred to
keep the Nellie Fortier hovering above the ground b use of her anti-gravitation engines.
He did not want to risk another leakage und he also wanted to have an un-obstructed
view of the ship’s low side.
The Nellie Fortier’s crew went through with the regular inspection routine. That routine
was somewhat hampered by the control systems that still displayed signs of the craze that
had befallen them. Soon, though, the crew had found that there was nothing materially
wrong with their spaceship. Soon after, the loss of air could be traced to a malfunction of
the toilet waste disposal system. A little later, the computer vermin that had infected the
control systems were eradicated. The passengers were informed about the progress on a
continuous basis during all those activities.
When the Nellie Fortier had taken up her hyperspace travel again and the crew and ship
were back to normal operations, the captain was accessible again, too. Ben Sommer, who
knew the Nellie Fortier’s commander from several previous encounters, took his friends
to the captain. They discussed the engineer’s hacked little portable computer and the
ship’s hacked control systems and concluded that the probability was high for those to be
instances not independent from each other. When the spaceship’s captain told the others
that at first the biggest and hyperspace-capable lifeboat disappeared and then, sometime
after, the smaller and equally hyperspace-capable second lifeboat went lose, they all
suspected a close connection with the other events. It did not take long till it became
apparent that several passengers were absent from the Nellie Fortier. Two Varanoides
had left a message, telling they were borrowing, as they had put it, the smaller of the
hyperspace-capable lifeboats. Then, checking who all had remained on the spaceship, the
number of those who were missing could be ascertained soon. Apart from the two
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Varanoides, who had absented themselves from the ship, twenty one other passengers
had also disappeared. That was close to the maximum number of people that could
reasonably well fit into the bigger of the hyperspace-capable lifeboats. The Nellie Fortier
had a number of other lifeboats, too, but none of them had hyperspace drive.
To Ben Sommer and his friends it was clear that the escaped passengers had hacked both
his engineer’s computer and the control systems of the Nellie Fortier. From Sherbetor’s
small computer, they had retrieved valuable information that included the coordinates of
a place important to Sommer and him. Then, the gangsters had sabotaged the spaceship
in order to cover-up their escape and to get some lead over their legitimate competitors.
Tom and Ben both assumed that the gangsters and the Varanoides did not work together.
They supposed the Varanoides to be taking their chances at settling their score with the
gang’s leader, whom Tom Grand and Seb Melch remembered from earlier encounters. As
he was told what had happened at the makeshift bar inside the main cargo bay of the
spaceship Ostia, Seb Melch agreed with Tom and Ben.
In short, the situation had been analysed to look like the: The gangsters had hacked the
engineers computer, stole the secrets kept there, sabotaged the Nellie Fortier to escape
with the biggest lifeboat she had. The Varanoides were following them in order to take
revenge for the insults done to them on-board the Ostia.
When Sherbetor mentioned that he had also saved some memories of the conversations
with Tom Grand on his little computer, the others of the group became very attentive. The
experienced galactic wanderers soon agreed in their perception that the robbers might be
going after the collected proceeds of Tom Grand’s group, once they had were away what
information the engineer had saved on his small portage computer. They did not even to
study any map for long till they could guess what the gangsters were up to. The route
from the Nellie Fortier’s position, the place where she was when the first lifeboat
disappeared, and the final destination indicated by the coordinates of Sommer’s and
Sherbetor’s common project, lead almost directly via the whereabouts of Tom Grand’s
group. As the information saved and illegitimately retrieved from the engineer’s small
computer indicated that both locations were holding valuables, it was likely that the
gangsters were trying to loot them both.
‘We don’t have anything here to follow them’, said Ben Sommer. ‘But at planet Nosubig
Egaso, where we wanted to depart anyway, I have a small hopper. It’s not a spaceship,
hardly even a space boat, but it has hyperspace drive and it served me well. We could use
it to follow the gangsters’, Sommer suggested.
‘The gang is going after my people’, said Tom Grand. ‘I should prevent the villains from
reaching, at least from reaching first’, he stated. ‘But are you sure that it’s the fastest way?
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Ben Sommer was fairly sure but he could imagine that the other gentleman had
knowledge beyond his own when it came to environment he was working in. Therefore,
Ben asked the captain if they could use the holographic navigation projector for some
time. The spaceships commander understood that Sommer and his friends wanted to go
after the gangsters. If those men were lucky in their pursuit of the villains, the Nellie
Fortier might get her lifeboats back. That and his respect for Ben made him agree
immediately.
Sommer quickly made the holographic projector show the relevant hyperspace streams.
‘My group is up here’, said Tom Grand and pointed to a location near the upper reaches of
the Sev Kerel Stream. ‘The Sev Kerel departs here from the Arcus Stream’, Grand
explained and showed the vicinity of the planets Iolut and Sev Levrya. ‘But there is no
public transportation going up there from Iolut or Sev Levrya up the Sev Kerel Stream’,
Grand told. ‘Therefore, my intention was to travel around there along the Vertmacon
Stream till the planet Arroak. From there, I wanted to find my way over to the Sev Levrya
again.’ With these words Tom increase the magnification of the holograph. ‘I wanted to
hitch hike from Arroak with some transporter or in the worst case, if none was going in
time, then book a passage’, he indicated. ‘You can see that there are some minor
hyperspace currents running from the Vertmacon to the Sev Levrya. These are too narrow
for any sizeable ships but hoppers will get through there, even mules.’
Mules, of course, were not meant the offspring of a male donkey, also called jack and a
female horse, known also as mare. Mules in galactic context were slightly space hoppers
used for transportation purposes. They often were hardly larger than those hoppers used
by single individuals. They were usually just stuffed full to the maximum. Hoppers were
hyperspace capable and normally offered regular seating capacity for just one person;
rarely for two. There usually was some cargo area and it was no rare event for people to
go along in that cargo area. For longer distances, that was no experience in high demand.
Yet, because it often was the only way to travel, people took what they could get. Some
hoppers were somewhat bigger, with additional cargo arear, and those were then called
camels. The terms camels and mules were predominant among the human galactic
wanders. Other species used different appellation.
‘That was definitively the route planning with the lowest associated cost’, confirmed Ben
Sommer. ‘Under the current circumstances with the involved time constraint, we might be
better off getting into my hopper at planet Nosubig Egaso. It is waiting there, fully ready
and in good shape’, suggested Sommer. ‘As you can see here, the Vertmacon and the
Arcus Stream both have bends here in this region and come quite close to each other.
There are also some small navigable currents connecting them. We anyway have to go to
Nosubig Egaso because the Nellie Fortier aims there and we don’t have any other means
of conveyance here. But from there, and via those small currents, we could have a chance
of reaching your group first and warn them of the gang’, recommended Ben.
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Tom Grand nodded. ‘Looks like a possible route’, he agreed. ‘But you have only one
hopper, right?’ he retorted. ‘For two people that’s acceptable for some time. For all of us
that one hopper is way insufficient’, Tom judged.
‘I might be of help there’, interposed Seb Melch here. Till that moment, he had not said
anything, had just listened and observed. ‘I have my own interest in going along that very
same way with you and I am in the lucky position to enjoy the availability of certain
disposable funds that I can use for that purposes. I am pretty sure that I should be able to
support our little team with the purchase of some hoppers on planet Nosubig Egaso’, Seb
proposed. ‘It would be a great disappointment if there were not some hoppers for sale
there. We can just use them and sell them later again’, Melch declared.
Ben Sommer then turned to Sherbetor. ‘You’re a man of maths and calculations’, he said
to the engineer. ‘If I’m not mistaken, your experience in fighting is very limited’, Ben
continued. The engineer did not consent but neither did he object. ‘You brought wife and
daughter along. That came as a surprise for me. Anyway, now they are with you. They
need to be taken care of, too. It will probably be best to meet later on at the plantation of
your brother’, Sommer suggested and pointed to some coordinates at the holographic
projection. ‘It’s nearly on the way from here to our final destination and you wanted to go
there anyway’, Ben said. The engineer nodded. ‘Earlier, I planned that we could from
Nosubig Egaso with my hopper to your brother’s plantation but now, with your wife and
daughter coming along, we’d need some other conveyance for you anyway’, Sommer
concluded. Then he pointed to the holographic display again. ‘It would be best for you and
your family to take the available public transportation back to the Arcus Stream. Some
way further up the Vertmacon; there is an interconnection via some smaller currents near
the planet Hatum. I remember that there are small hyperspace ferries going from Hatum
to the planet Tunker. From there, it’s not far to Sherbetor’s plantation’, Ben explained.
The engineer did not object. It was true that he was not a fighter, had no experience with
violent struggles and had his wife and daughter with him, who were no warriors either. He
agreed that it would be best to follow Sommer’s suggestions. Ben’s advice meant a lot of
more travel time for him. It was true, though, that there was a conveyance issue because
he had unexpectedly taken spouse and child along. Sherbetor had not expected the
matter to turn into a dangerous adventure. He had anticipated it to be lonesome and
somewhat inconvenient but not outright dangerous. Anyway, now the new situation had
emerged and there was no other way than to adjust and cope with how it was.
It was all agreed upon and once the Nellie Fortier reached Nosubig Egaso, Sherbetor took
his wife and daughter along with him to follow the route that Sommer had advised him to
take. Ben, Tom, Seb and the youngster then looked for some cheap hoppers to purchase.
The main settlement on planet Nosubig Egaso at that time had only just over four
thousand inhabitants. On the whole planet, there lived approximately forty thousand
individuals, most of them being Varanoides. About one tenth of the inhabitants were
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human and most of these had put up their residence in the main settlement. They were
practically all of them pioneers. Apart from wanderers, gatherers, drifters, rogues of
different varieties, mostly involuntary adventurers, and desperados of diverse species,
there were also two lawyers, a dentist, three other medicals doctors, some technicians
and a few business people. Most of these were humans.
The two lawyers gave litigious individuals the opportunity to sue each other, though it
remained unclear on the basis of what right. From time to time, as necessity arose, a court
was called in. Those people, who happened to be in any place where something had
happened or where for other reasons, like disagreements over property, a court ruling
was required, elected a judge from among their ranks. The full assembly of the spectators
served as jury and they also deliberated the final ruling. The elected judge was to preside
over the whole proceeding, take care of the organisation, and give it the appearance of
solemnity.
There were several shops in the main settlement of planet Nosubig Egaso, most of them
for technical equipment. Some of them could also repair things. There were some garages
for the maintenance of hoppers and some other repair workshops for construction,
mining, and logging equipment. Nosubig Egaso was as of yet untouched by agriculture
because enough food stuff could be found that was just growing on its own, so that there
was no need to engage into planting and tendering it.
There were several watering holes in the main settlement on Nosubig Egaso and one
establishment that had a grandiose signboard dangling over its entrance, denoting the far
less grandiose edifice as the settlement’s grand hotel. It had nothing to do with Tom
Grand. Other than alcohol, certain cervices were also available for diversion. These certain
services were provided by several small establishments, of which some worked on a
cooperative basis and some were individual businesses. The individuals who engaged in
the provision of these certain services preferred to remain unnoticed at daytime due to
reasons of marketing. They and their customers mostly belonged to the same desperate
variety of individuals who had been driven to the free worlds by need. Like on so many
planets in the free areas of the galaxy, the population on Nosubig Egaso had come here
because they had hoped they could make a living in a place where things were still for
grabs. They couldn’t make it back home, on those densely populated, well organised
worlds where they had come from. Now, they hoped to make it here; or on some other
world in the free areas. As could be imagined from that description, the crowd residing on
Nosubig Egaso as well as the people coming through here were largely of the rough-andtough variety. It wasn’t a place to settle for the usual well middle-class family.
It was in this main settlement that Ben Sommer had parked his hopper with one of the
garages. The hopper was still there and it was still in the same condition that it had, when
Sommer saw it last time. It had gained some dust but that was rather a good sign because
it meant that nobody had touched it for some time. Ben checked the engines and all the
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technical functions and all seemed to be in good condition. Sommer had left some
weapons and other equipment inside the hopper at all that was still there, too. It wasn’t
permitted to carry weapons inside the spaceships when travelling with public conveyance.
Within the main settlement on Nosubig Egaso, some of the residents had formed an
association and bought several security robots. They had formed a vigilance committee
and ran armed foot patrols in addition to the machines. Therefore, within the settlement’s
parameters, life was decently calm and safe; enough so for shops to run and to enable
basic commerce. The pure law of the jungle would otherwise not tolerate commercial
activity as there had to be some rules and enforcement thereof to guarantee that
purchases would happen instead of robbery. There had to be some basic framework to
allow contracts to be meaningful enough, so that people could deal with each other
trusting enough that contracts were kept.
After having checked his own hopper and being content with it, Ben Sommer took his
friends along to search for some decent hoppers to buy. Seb Melch had offered to buy
three more hoppers, one each for Tom Grand, for himself, and for the youngster. Four
people could travel with two hoppers but it would become extremely inconvenient after
some time. They had to expect a travel of about one week from Nosubig Egaso to planet
Naditira, where Tom Grand’s group was. Surviving a week cramped together in the cargo
area behind the pilot’s seat in a hopper was possible but it wasn’t anything that people
would do voluntarily if they had any other choice. Also, four hoppers meant that there
was reserve capacity of one or even two broke down. Finally, more equipment and
provisions could be taken along. Going from Nosubig Egaso to Naditira and back would
take at least two weeks. Once could not know how long the stay on Naditira would turn
out to be. Some reserve for safety reasons should also be taken along. That summed up to
provisions for a month. Therefore, they had to calculate at least sixty litres of drinking
water per person, plus whatever else was required. Thus, cargo space was good to have.
In case they could or had to move on from Naditira to Sherbetor’s Plantation, they also
required provisions. It wasn’t entirely clear when and where they could stock up again
during their travel. That provided another good reason to travel with several hoppers.
When it came to buying the hoppers, everybody from the small group was keen on
reliability. Anything else was useful but reliability was of paramount importance when it
came to hoppers. The hoppers had hyperspace drive and if that device stopped working,
one could be lost somewhere in space, light years away from anywhere. Without much
ability to repair and hyperspace drive and with provisions for very limited time only, that
was an event to be avoided. For reasons of the limited budget, brand new hoppers were
not within the reach. Some used device was to be bought. Therefore, the group had to
check thoroughly how good the hoppers on offer still were. Luckily, they were in good
shape. They hoppers were not quite new but their superior quality gave them endurance
and made them very robust, so that they could last long.
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All three hoppers that Seb Melch bought for himself, Tom Grand and the youngster were
from Yamaha. This age-old company was founded in ancient times immemorial back
home on planet Earth. Of course, there was a founding date but hardly anyone out there
in the free areas of the galaxy would know to name it. Actually, hardly anyone would
know, even on the very densely populated and highly civilised worlds. That founding date
lay so far back in the past that people would be hard-pressed to answer the question of
whether Yamaha dated from antiquity or the mediaeval times. Of course, anyone who
wanted to could find out that Yamaha was established in 1887 AD as a piano and reed
organ manufacturer by Torakusu Yamaha in Hamamatsu, Shizuoka prefecture of Japan, a
country on Earth, and was incorporated on October 12, 1897 AD. But who cared to find
that out? The name had become a household term and stood for hoppers of excellent
quality.
Ben Sommer’s hopper was an Imperial Galaxy Venture T. It was one of the few hoppers
with an acceptable passenger seat. Ben had intended to take Sherbetor along in his
hopper. Now, it was to be filled with additional supplies for the hunt that was before
them. After paying for the hoppers, Seb Melch had still some gold coins left over and he
intended to purchase some weapons, ammunition, and especially sufficient supplies like
water and food, as well as some spare parts that were regularly required.
Like the three other just-purchased hoppers, Sommer’s Yamaha Imperial Galaxy Venture T
had a four-tract cold-fusion generator. Those four-tract cold-fusion generators were
renowned for their superb reliability despite high power density. Dual large-capacity
radiators took care of the required cooling. Together with its famous double-feature
hyperspace drive the fly-by-wire navigation system provided well-controllable, smooth
acceleration throughout the broad performance band. The design of the hopper included
mass centralization, resulting in a machine designed to handle curvaceous hyperspace
currents with excellency. It also smoothened out the sudden accelerations that smaller
and narrower hyperspace kept in store for their users and adjusted well for varying load
capacities. The completely automatic suspension adjustability of all hyperspace ride
dampers combined delivered quick, responsive manoeuvring with excellent handling
capabilities. The intelligently designed hull provided exceptional roomy ergonomics for
great rider control and comfort.
For Tom Grand, an older type of the Yamaha W-Max hopper was found and bought. It had
only an alibi seat for a second passenger and was essentially a hopper that could be used
best by a single person alone. It was a bit faster and could accelerate stronger than the
hopper that Ben Sommer used. Grand got a hopper with a system engineered to deliver
optimum acceleration and performance under all conditions. It was a bit more swift and
agile than almost any other hopper. With its strength, agility, endurance, reliability, and
smart behaviour, its character fitted well to that of its intended rider. Tom would have
taken more or less anything, but this hopper was in decent shape and offered for a good
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price, so he did not decline to accept it. Anyway, it was his firm intention to sell the
hopper again once the adventure was over and to give back the money to Seb Melch.
For himself and the youngster, Seb Melch bought two Yamaha TDM Custom Cruisers.
Those hoppers had time-tested types of cold-fusion reactors, hyperspace drive engines,
and practically all other components. This model had ripened over a long time of
continuous improvement. Next to the resulting outstanding reliability, it also offered good
controllability and a relatively comfortable ride. Seb Melch thought that such a model
would be good for both himself and the youngster. The boy certainly could handle a
hopper but of course, different hoppers demanded different handling and there was no
reason to add any particular difficulty to life. They were heading right into an adventure
that would anyway offer its own troubles, hassles, and challenges and those might turn
out arduous enough without the added intricacies of a difficult to control hopper.
While Seb Melch was spending most of his remaining gold coin on weapons, ammunition,
supplies of different kind including provisions, medical kits, some spare parts, drinking
water, oxygen bottles and some other necessities, several light years away, twenty men
sat around a burning bonfire. They had set up a small camp on a planet named Naditira. It
was a heavily forested world. The men currently worked as loggers, though they had done
other jobs before. Gold collecting was one of the most famous occupations the
adventurers took to when they rushed out of the densely populated, crowded civilised
worlds into the far, wired open space of the free areas that the galaxy held for them. On a
planet never touched by humans or other gold-loving species, the precious metal was
often to be found easily. A little basic understanding of gold and its properties and typical
behaviour enabled adventurers to pick loose gold and gold nuggets up off the ground;
usually from the ground of rivers.
Gold usually came from what was called a mother lodge. That was the original source of
the gold where it had been deposited millions of years ago within a quartz vein by
volcanic activity. From there on, erosion turned that gold into residual gold. Residual gold
was that precious metal which had been extracted from the mother lodge, that goldcontaining quartz vein. Residual gold usually contained large quantities of loose gold and
was to be found close by the mother lodge, the original source. Large were the quantities
in terms of the general occurrence of gold; there was no expecting of cubic meters upon
cubic meters. Further erosion, especially the combination of gravity and hydraulic action
be water, washed the residual gold away from its location and into stream, rivers, creeks,
and form of flowing water. Occurring here among the water, the precious metal was
called alluvial gold. On the river bed, due to its high density gold will move along to the
lowest points of the riverbed. It is common for gold to sink down all the way down to
bedrock, where it can’t go any further, along with other heavy elements such as silver, tin,
platinum and the magnetic sands called hematite and magnetite, two iron minerals. If
gold gets carried on by the force of water through the stream it got in, the precious metal
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will tend to accumulate again wherever changes in altitude occur. The bigger the change
in elevation was, the bigger the chance to find accumulated gold there. Directly after a
waterfall, and the more, the deeper the waterfall was, the falling water frequently had
dug a deep basin. In such a basin, gold liked to congregate. Such basins were called glory
holes due to the large quantities of gold found in them. The gold that got washed further
down the stream by the hydraulic forces then had another chance to accrue where two
rivers or creeks met. The complex hydrodynamic forces that were involved at the
confluence of two streams motivated gold to drop out of the riverflow into the riverbed. If
both rivers contained gold, the find could be especially bounteous. Apart from flowing
rivers, ancient riverbeds, where earlier there was fluent water but which had tried out
over time, could contain significant quantities of gold. Another good place to look for gold
was below eddy currents. Those could be caused by any obstruction to riverflow such as
boulders and large tree roots. They caused obstructions to the flowing stream and on the
downward side of them, gold liked to settle down on the riverbed. Once a stream ran out
of mountains into flatland and started to meander, the earlier bends could contain large
paystreaks. Paystreaks were often highly lucrative to exploit but likewise somewhat
difficult to find because they were not always openly visible. Further upstream, gold
nuggets on the river bed could be spotted with the bare eye. If the river in question dug
itself ever deeper into the earth, eroding its banks and cutting in itself between high walls,
high benches were formed. Within those high benches, rich gold seams could remain high
above the momentaneous water level of the stream. Back in the river itself, large nuggets
could be found where the water flow ran over crevices and cracks in the bedrock. Finally,
when streams of water entered an ocean, they tended to deposit some of the gold they
took along in beach placers, where sometimes large nuggets could be found by dredging
just off shore.
Knowing all this, a dedicated group of adventurers could find many kilogram of gold;
sometimes even tons of gold, in just a couple of years browsing over a newly-found planet.
The team of adventurers sitting around a campfire on planet Naditira, though, was not
searching for gold there. They had found some other treasure. In their case, it was
precious, exotic wood instead of precious metals that they were collecting. There was
wood of stunning beauty on Naditira and some well-to-do people on other worlds paid a
little fortune to have their furniture made from it; or their parquet floor. Like always,
most of the price paid remained with the dealers and traders; and in some cases with the
tax collectors. Much of the price went into covering the cost of logistics. Some money at
least found its way into the pockets of the loggers who cut the trees.
At this moment, when sitting around the campfire on planet Naditira, there was not much
that these loggers could have done with their money, though. There weren’t enough
people on this world to set up anything even closely resembling an economy. While there
was not much ton buy and not many to buy from; and neither sell, either, there was lots
of logging to be done at daytime. Now, in the night, people could sit around a campfire at
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look at the moon, of which planet Naditira also had one. It was a big moon and it was
rather close. The tides in Naditira’s oceans were strong and the big moon close by even
affected the atmosphere, contributing to the strong winds. The very same strong winds
that roared customarily over that world had made floral life evolve into very sturdy plants.
The toughest trees on Naditira had very beautiful and highly solid, resistant wood. Out of
some of that wood, the loggers had built their hut. It came from frees that had some
defect, were splintered or else could not be sold at full price anymore. The hut rested on
four struck-off tree trunks. Those served as the four corner pillars of the hut. Some beams
of wood had been used to connect the remaining tree trunks with each other. Then,
overlapping planks had been attached to them to form walls and the roof. This hut served
as the fixed abode for the loggers for some time. Close by, there were two more such
shacks, created in similar ways from tree trunks and clapboards, one for the loggers’ tools
and one for their hoppers. The later one served as garage, too, where hoppers and also
tools could be repaired without exposing the mechanic to the often stormy and rainy
weather. The men had just four hoppers among them and one was current under
maintenance. On Naditira, they used their hoppers as mules; let them carry large loads
around. The hoppers would never ever be able to carry a tree trunk through hyperspace
but they were strong enough to move the wood around on a planet, if it was properly
bound to them with strong ropes. The hoppers were modified in that way; they had now
hooks to attach the ropes.
The campfire was burning in front of the hut. The door and the two windows, one each at
either side of the door, were looking toward the fireplace. The fireplace had been secured
with stones and the fire was watched carefully. The small camp had been erected in a
depression on the downwind side of some mountain range. It was decently far above a
river to be out of reach from the floods. The river banks gave evidence that strong floods
could rage through the valley occasionally. The men around that campfire wore working
suits and sturdy safety boots. They faces looked hardy, like tanned from wind and rain and
sun. They were far away from civilisation and they looked like it, too. Many of them
enjoyed it. The work was very hard. The living conditions were very hard. The amenities of
facilities that civilisation provided would have offered welcome relieve from some of the
hard circumstances. Yet, those men were usually happier in their tiredness and exhaustion
than most stressed-out office workers on civilised worlds when they finally had reached
closing time. A man’s body had evolved to bear the physical struggle for survival for
decades but the man’s mind got worn down by the struggle for the position in society.
Once the mind suffered, the body followed behind along the same lines, just with some
years of time lag.
Over there campfire, there was a big kettle, dangling down on chains from a traversing
tree trunk. The tree trunk was about as thick as of the men’s belly. The loggers had put it
to rest in two crotches of trees standing to the right and to the left of the fireplace. Inside
the kettle, some stew made of indigenous foodstuff was brewing. The loggers had learned
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quickly what eatables could be found on planet Naditira and some of those things were
just now in that pot over the fire. The loggers had started eating some time ago and their
hunger was not urgent anymore. Now, it was the time for talk.
Space loggers were a peculiar kind of people. They were more nomadic than farmers and
less mobile than prospectors, who were hunting great deposits of natural resources to sell
their knowledge. If the prospectors happened to find handsome gold deposits of other
matter of high value, they also exploited these directly by themselves. Usually, though,
they were working as scouts, being followed by large companies to whom they sold the
information about their discoveries.
The space loggers and small independent groups of gold miners, who were often the same
people, just at different times, moved from place to place and took the best and easiest
that they could find there. If gold or other precious metals were to be found, they took
these. If there were trees with precious wood, they took those. They came to one planet,
often spending the last money they had, and started looking for whatever could be found
there. On a world never touched by anyone from the outside, there usually was
something to be found. Liquid, fluent water resulted on mineral deposits, especially in
gold finding. And any planet with liquid water also had some form of floral life, some kind
of plants. The question was only if those plants were worth anything on the market.
In the case of planet Naditira, the wood was worth it. The adventurers turned loggers
would choose the best trees, those that had long, straight trunks free from knots. They
would cut them, remove the crown the bind them with long ropes to their hoppers. The
poor devices had to work hard to move the heavy weights. Of course the loggers had
chosen hoppers that were able to do the job. Their preferred brand was Yamaha, too. The
use of machines ultimately depended on available funds and what was for sale on the
market.
When enough tree trunks had been collected in one place where they could be picked up
easily by a bigger spaceship, one was called in. Sometimes, an appointment was set in
advance, too. Then, the loggers would know beforehand that on such and such day, the
transporter spaceship would come to collect their harvest. Captains and owners did such
kind of deals only with loggers whom they knew well. They did not want having to travel
back with empty or half empty cargo bay or, even worse, get lured into a trap by
prospective pirates.
The space loggers roamed around from planet to planet, ever searching for the fastest
profit. They travelled with their own hoppers, space boats, or even small spaceships, if
they were that rich. They were very independent and moved around just as the pleased;
without thinking much about whether that pleased others or not. Those adventurers did
not care if the planets they went to were claimed by anyone else. As long as nobody else
actively and effectively defended that claim with force, the adventurers regarded any
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place they could reach as free for their exploitation. Once they found a suitable planet
which appeared to be un-defended they took as much as they could from the valuable
resources that were easy to reach. In the case of gold, they collected the nuggets and
whatever gold flakes and gold sands were ready to reap. In the case of precious they cut
the best trees rapidly and sold the trunks, before anyone could get to know what was
going on. Spaceship captains and owners collaborated with them. Those did not care
either where the stuff they took on board came from or who else may claim it.
Some planets were claimed by states based on those densely populated civilised worlds.
These states then awarded land plots on the claimed planets on the basis of some
regulation or the other. In those cases, there were often people who had paid for their
land. The wandering adventurers did not care about that either. They would collect gold
and valuable trees as they pleased, operating in a kind of hit-and-run system of business.
Usually, the states were neither willing nor able to enforce their claims effectively. The
presence of their police and military was too weak on those out-lying worlds. Therefore,
the legitimate settlers, those who had bought their rights to claim plots, either had to
defend themselves or just had to endure the wandering looters and hope that they might
disappear soon.
The wandering adventurers were different from robbers in that respect that the
adventurers did not take with force from the settlers who had come in for mining or
plantations on a larger scale with a sustainable approach. Thus, the wandering
adventurers were considered more like an ephemeral nuisance than a major threat. The
wanderers would take the easiest to get gold and the nicest trees but they did not come
with the means to engage in the exploitation of new planets on an industrial scale.
Therefore, the big industrial corporations did not mind the adventurers enough to fight
them seriously.
The wanderers anyway befell only planets with liquid water. Gold deposits required
geological forces that resulted from hydraulic action; nothing else but fluent water, that
was. Trees necessitated the very same; they needed liquid water, too. A breathable
atmosphere reduced the requirement for space suits, extensive respiratory gear, and a
heck of a lot of other equipment. On a planet without atmosphere or liquid water, only
ventures commanding over bigger funds could succeed. The wanderers, though, often
came to a newly discovered world by spending their last money on the fare and possible
some tools. They came with a sleeping back, a tent, a gun to defend themselves and a big
backpack or other equipment. They often depended on finding something to eat locally.
They could not afford to get supplied from outer space. Wanderers usually were people
who mainly possessed nothing but their absolute will to survive; or at least hardly
anything more than what they could carry. Such people were no big threat for large
corporations. For some small-scale planters and miners, though, they posed a significant
danger, because the planters came with a very different approach. They wanted to use
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the land long-tern, not exploit it quickly like the wanderers. Of course, the planters and
miners objected to the wanderers taking all the easy findings but usually there was little
that they could do other than just hope that the passing over nuisance will pass over soon.
For all of them, for the prospectors, the wanderers, and the small-scale planters and
miners, those worlds with liquid water and breathable atmosphere were ideal. Making it
there required only the minimum of capital. Actually, organic individuals were superior to
machines in some crucial respects. They were much more adaptable than machines. While
machines could be optimised to fit the respective requirements, organic individuals could
adapt. When the circumstances where not clear before the adventure started, the
opportunity to bring on the optimal machines was limited. Then, the bodies of organic
individuals could heal, while machines needed spare parts in the case accidents or other
damages. Waiting for the necessitated replacement could cost too much valuable time;
and of course also financial resources, including the cost delivery. Therefore, organic
individuals were actually more cost-efficient for small scale operations on such
inhabitable planets.
It was not a question of cost effectiveness alone. The free areas of the galaxy would have
experienced the same rush even if the economic side of the equation had been different.
It was a stream of individuals who just could not make it on the civilised worlds, or who
could not make as much as they had wanted and who dreamt of more, that poured out
from the densely populated major worlds into the far, wide open. They were individuals
from the huddled masses that every well-organised, well-settled, well-governed, wellregulated society produced. Each and every such society bred great numbers of persons
who found all those regulations too confining and constricting their creativity and their
chances to achieve more. In every society there were individuals who did not succeed as
corporate warriors, who lost out in the daily office politics. There were many who were
not good at acquiring professional certifications and earn formal education degrees. In
safe, secure societies where practically all matters of daily private and professional live
were arranged with near-perfection, people who were not so talented in navigating the
oceans of bureaucratic administrations and social conventions felt that they lost out.
Those, often not endowed with large funds, and then spilled into the free worlds of which
the galaxy still had plenty. Many found out that life on these planets wasn’t easy either.
Others succeeded. They might find gold or they made a good living by logging, if and when
they found forests of especially demanded precious wood. Then, there were the smallscale planters and miners who preferred to stay in one place. They dreamt of all that what
they others had on those civilised worlds but what they could not afford there. Like in any
densely populated place, real estate was costly on the civilised planets. On one of the free
worlds, felling some trees, sawing beams, splitting clapboards, fitting them all together
and equally furnishing the house with all the tables, chairs, beds and whatever furniture
was required resulted in a nice home. Fluent water would come from the creek or well
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nearby and the soakaway pit drainage served as sewage water treatment plant; and
resulted in the production of manure. Education consisted of the school of life and every
anniversary celebrated was another self-evident degree certificate. Once more settlers
arrived; the earlier pioneers then grew into the role of the landlords and wealthy owners.
If they could survive long enough, they were made men after a few decades.
Now, in the evening, when it was too dark to work and when the men badly needed a rest,
too, was some time to sit together, stretch the limbs, enjoy the warm fire and exchange
stories and tales; some of them more true than the others. One man among the twenty
who sat around the campfire that heated the kettle with the food was just telling some
funny stories that he had experienced; or claimed to have experienced.
Lentbender, that was the man’s name, was the oldest among the group of twenty. He
couldn’t be bothered to shave and therefore had a long, full beard. He told a storey where
he had been involved in some disagreement with a number of Varanoides from one tribe
and got rescued by the interference of one Varanoide from another tribe. The relations
between the different tribes of the Varanoides were complicated; and not only that, they
were also ever-shifting. Too much ever-shifting complexity wasn’t the human’s most
beloved state of affairs and because the changes anyway only too often took place faster
than the news about the changes could reach any human ear, most did not follow these
anymore. It appeared useless. What remained in the humans’ understanding was that the
relations of the different tribes of the Varanoides among each other were a mess; a
quagmire of a mess and that it was neither worth nor advisable to get involved.
However, the old Lentbender was just telling the storey of how he had been captured by
some Varanoides. They belonged to of one of the many tribes that formed this species.
According to his storey, Lentbender was close to finding a premature and unpleasant end,
when a famous chieftain of another tribe of Varanoides took care of him and relieved
from the mortifying situation. That storey, told by old Lentbender, led the other men from
the group sitting around to start cursing the Varanoides. Old Lentbender defended the
Varanoide chieftain who had rescued him while the other men condemned those Red
Scales who had captured him and had wanted to make an end to his life.
It was true that the Varanoides often were fierce competitors. They had started to explore
the galaxy a little before the humans took off. Thus, the Red Scales, as they were called by
many humans, and also by not just a few of the Aduhika, had a bit of an advance. They
were less thorough in exploiting the resources of planets than the humans, though.
Therefore, it sometimes happened that humans came to some planet they considered free
and newly discovered because no discernible activity was going on there, while in fact
there were already Varanoides living there. The ensuing competition was sometimes
resolved by very final and irrevocable actions; one side in the conflict killed the other. At
times the Varanoides won, at times the humans won, at times mixed gangs formed. When
the Aduhika took part, too, the situation became confusing and when even more other
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species joined the struggle, it usually ended with a terrible mess for anyone involved.
These disputes took place at the level of gangs and groups usually numbering dozens to
several hundred individuals. Rarely only, the number of the involved individuals reached
several thousand. Such quarrels were normally nothing that prompted big states to take
action. It just wasn’t worth it. The dispute usually was about something below the value
of a military mission. If all required legal proceedings in the aftermath of such a military
mission were taken into account, the big state would be at a loss almost with certainty.
Therefore, all eyes were usually closed tightly. Only if some swift, decisive action involving
practically no risk would lead to near-certain success, big states sometimes could be
convinced to create order; or when they had other important interests of their own in the
respective territory. In that respect, all the species were the same. The galaxy was simply
too big yet for them to control it and they had to concentrate their resources on what was
most important for them; which was the protection of their main worlds.
With that big picture in the background, the discussion between old man Lentbender and
his comrades went on. Lentbender continued to defend the Varanoides and the other
men continued to curse them. In that part of the galaxy, there was a certain competition
between the Red Scales and the humans. In other places, they cooperated more across
the species. In this region, just a couple of dozen light years across, their common history
had led them into more quarrels where racially homogeneous groups. Therefore, many of
the humans here had no great opinion of the Red Scales.
As the discussion between old Lentbender and his fellow loggers went on, the aged man
suddenly exclaimed: ‘It was a human who killed my family and destroyed my life, not a
Varanoide!’
‘How could we know?’ responded the others. ‘You never said anything about it!’
That was true. Lentbender had never mentioned anything about his sorry history to
anyone in his team. He anyway wasn’t a talkative person. It was only this evening that he
had said so much. Before, he had rarely spoken anything else but the utmost necessary
words. He was a great man to work with, reliable and friendly in his actions. He wasn’t a
great talker, though. He was a silent person; or rather, he had been a silent person till this
very evening, when he already had said more than in all those days since the group came
to planet Naditira.
After the old man had started to narrate the story of his life, the other loggers wanted to
know all of it. Lentbender had claimed that a human had destroyed his life and killed his
family. The men who sat with him around the campfire were eager to learn the details.
They did request him to tell. They only looked at him, bent forward in curiosity and waited
for the horrific narration to continue.
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‘They were six’, began Lentbender then to report. ‘I settled my score with five of them’, he
continued. ‘Only their leader is still left over and I wish to finish my task before my life
ends’, he implored his fate. ‘I killed them the same way they killed my wife and two sons’,
Lentbender confessed. It had no legal meaning out here. There was no law and nobody to
accuse or sentence him; not even police for an arrest. Revenge was the normal form of
justice; if it could be obtained. Revenge was accepted; even expected.
‘I hunted them down and finished them off, one after the other’, Lentbender continued
with his account. ‘Only the last one, the leader of that band of bastards, escaped me. He
managed to obscure his traces and disappeared but I am sure that he is still around
somewhere. This region of the galaxy offers many similar planets and once you know your
ways around the hyperspace currents here and you get along with these typical worlds,
and then you want to reap the fruits of your experience. Also, the man was younger to me,
so he should still be alive, if nobody else has given him what he deserves. I should find him
and settle the score, an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth; and pay with interest, it I
can!’
The other loggers understood that it was a grave case that the old man was telling about.
So, at first, they remained silent. Then, somebody finally dared to ask: ‘Who did that to
you?’
‘Not an alien he was but one of our race’, Lentbender replied. ‘He was a man like us, from
then human race, but a monster, as there are none with the Varanoides. Yes, my
comrades, I tell you that he was one of us, in a way, the same was we are now, the same
as I am now, namely a logger. "
‘What?’ the men replied in unison. ‘Loggers have killed your family!’ they shouted.
‘Unfortunately, that is the truth’, Lentbender replied. ‘I had come here to this region of
the galaxy from Nosref Station in the Saposulest region which way down the hyperspace
Sourim Stream. I wasn’t a poor man; though neither was I very rich. I had heard about a
nice planet, named Aile Agir, where soil and climate were conductive for growing spices. I
had sold my property at Nosref Station and bought some good amount of equipment to
start the new life for my family on Aile Agir. We came with our own space boat, two
tractors, two hoppers, a few simple robots and a lot of other equipment. My wife and my
two sons were with me. There was nobody else in the vicinity of several hundred
kilometres. We thought that we did not need anybody because we assumed that we could
cope with the work by ourselves. And with the work, we could cope. Soon, we had built a
little blockhouse for ourselves and we had cleared some good land and started planting
the spices that we wanted to grow. Spice plantations don’t make you rich quick but they
can afford you a nice, handsome income over time, if you continue taking care of the soil
and the plants properly’, the old man explained.
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One day, one of my tractors was missing. I had sent out the tractor to do some routine job.
The machine was sophisticated enough to handle simple tasks by itself. But this time, it
did not come back. So, I want to see where it remained. I followed the trails for tractors
tend to leave obvious marks and came to find it with some loggers. They had regarded it
as a very convenient tool; and even more so because they did not pay for it. I wanted my
tractor back. They just laughed at me’, Lentbender recounted.
‘Soon after, the second tractor was missing, too. Again, it was easy to follow its tracks and
they led me to the loggers. I demanded my tractors back. They laughed at me again. I
grew angry. I had a gun with me. They had guns, too. They were more. I retreated’, the old
man told.
‘Life became harder for us. We had lots our two tractors. We still had our hoppers, the
space boat, the robots and the other equipment. We had to work even more with our
own hands now and the work slowed down. There was nobody around whom we could
have asked for immediate help, though. Also, we thought that once the loggers were done
with chopping the most valuable trees in our area, they would disappear. They could not
carry along with them our tractors, because they had, to our knowledge, no means of
conveyance sufficient for the transportation of tractors. We did not see any means of
conveyance with them at all’, Lentbender reported. He had tears in his eyes and his voice
trembled, when he continued to tell his storey.
‘We were four, all of us together, my wife and me and our two sons. The sons were not so
small anymore. They could already shoot and work well. They were youngsters, not
children. The others were six. We had weapons. We could have surprised them. We could
have sniped at them from the woods. We could have finished them off in just a moment.
We did not’, regretted the old man full of bitterness.
‘One day soon after our second tractor had been taken from us, I had taken along one of
my sons with me. We had to do some work somewhere on the woods. Then, suddenly, I
saw one of the gangsters standing behind a tree and aiming at my son, who was in front of
me. The forest was dense and probably the gangster had not seen me. But instead of
shooting him, I just shouted at him. He realised that it stood bad for him, being alone
against two. So, he retreated’, Lentbender told with increasing agitation in his voice.
The old man stood up and walked a few steps up and down. His agitation had grown
visibly. His hands were trembling, as were his lips. The red light of the campfire sparkled
in the tears that were in his eyes.
‘When we, me and my one son, came back from our work later that day to our little
blockhouse, my son went in first. I still had to do something in the garage so I went there.
I heard a surprised call from my son but somehow did not consider it anything alarming.
When I went into my house myself, it took a second till my eyes had adjusted to the
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darkness. Then, I saw my wife and both my sons bound with ropes and laying on the
ground. In that very same moment, the gangsters also grabbed me. They were six and I
was alone. I struggled but they subdued me quickly’, Lentbender detailed with the rage of
hate and the burning agony of a terrible loss in his shaking voice.
‘Obviously, those gangsters had made their way toward our blockhouse when my son and
I were still out working. The villains had overcome my wife and our other son, bound
them and waited in ambush for me and the second boy. Once all of us were subjected to
the brutes’ cruel will, the torturing started. They intended to kill all of us and they wanted
us to die under great pains.’ Here the old man stopped talking and choked. ‘I will not
mention the details’, he then continued. ‘It took long and it was terrible. More you don’t
need to know and I ask you not to request to learn more. My wife and my two sons were
already dead and I was very close to my end, too, when suddenly some Varanoides
appeared. The Varanoides did not like what they saw and expressed their displeasure
clearly. The gangsters had no choice but to flee.’ Here, the old man closed his eyes and
remained silent for some time. He was breathing in deeply to calm himself down. The
memory hurt him terribly.
‘The Varanoides took care of my wounds, treated me well and helped me to recover. I was
a strong very man by that time and despite the heinous abuse recovered. Some scars are
left on the outside from that experience and a heart that is still burning’, Lentbender gave
report about the gruesome memories those appalling atrocities had left him with. ‘Some
of the Varanoides remained with me. They helped me burry the deaths. The other
Varanoides set themselves to the trails of those villains. As you will know, some of those
aliens can read traces were well; astonishingly well. They can find and follow traces where
we couldn’t even imagine any traces to be. The Varanoides came back after about a week
to tell me that the gangsters were heading toward Dusty Downs Station. That place was
by then only a couple of shacks and a plot of flat stone ground where small spaceships
could land. I took my weapons and followed those villains. I got them one by one. Only
their leader escaped. Five are counted and the sixth is still outstanding. He was a logger,
an adventurer, a wanderer. He operated in this region of the galaxy. That’s why I’m also a
logger, a wanderer, an adventurer. It’s here and among the people of the same trade that
I foresee the best chances to meet that devil again and to get a chance to pay him back;
though I could kill him only once while he killed three of my family.’ In that moment,
something caught the attention of Lentbender. While everybody else of his group, sitting
around the campfire and closely listening to the old man’s sad narration was concentrated
on Lentbender to let not one single escape the attention, the old man’s alertness had
pointed his subconscious mind to some movement in the dark. From the depth of the
subconscious, the alarm had swiftly made its way up to the mature man’s attention.
‘What’s that?’ he hissed and gave an alarmed signal to his fellow loggers.
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Lentbender jumped up and steered into the darkness. The weapons of the men were all in
the hut. They had not seen any big, dangerous animals around here and they did not
expect other foes. Therefore, they had felt no need to carry arms. But now, they were
aware of something in the bush. Their tension did not have to last long. Moments later,
two Varanoides entered the shine of the campfire. The bigger one of them raised his hand
and directed his voice at the men staring at him: ‘Us friend. Not us foe.’ His pronunciation
was about as bad as his grammar. Therefore, he was difficult to understand. Then, The
Varanoides stood still; still holding up one of his hands. Varanoides were red by nature. In
the red, flickering light of the campfire, they were almost unreal in their redness and in
that contrast of that redness with the surrounding darkness. It was as if their redness
shone from the inside, like maybe the devil himself might shine in red, fired up from his
burning core.
Everybody was just standing still and staring at the respective others. The twenty loggers
were gazing at the two Varanoides and those were gaping back. ‘Loggers work here’, said
the bigger Varanoide. It was not clear if that was a question or a statement. The alien
could possibly not express questions with the rise of the tone or he did not know about it.
‘Loggers work here Tom Grand know’, the bigger of the two Varanoides uttered.
It was the old man Lentbender who understood first; or rather took an educated guess.
‘Yes, we know Tom Grand’, he replied.
‘Tom Grand foretime go business do assignment your’, hissed the Varanoide.
‘Yes, Tom Grand went to do some business for us. We gave him the assignment’,
responded Lentbender.
‘Tom Grand come soon. We place correct. We find people correct’, the Varanoide
confirmed that he had found whom he had been looking for. The loggers, though, had no
idea yet that they were the correct people to be found or as to why they should be those
people whom it was correct for the Varanoide to find. Nor did they have any clue as to the
identity of the two aliens or what their intentions were. ‘Fire small make’, demanded the
Varanoide. ‘Else see far from’, he tried to explain. ‘Speak silent’, the Red Scale requested.
‘Else hear far from’, he expounded. He made a few steps toward the fire and reduced by
pushing the logs apart, till only some glowing amber was radiating-out heat. The smaller
of the two aliens helped with it. When they were done with that, the bigger one glanced
into the kettle dangling from the wooden beam on chains. ‘Us give food’, he demanded.
‘Us travel long. Us eat little. Us hungry’, he tried to explain.
The unusual behaviour of the Varanoides provoked frowning faces among the men
around the campfire. Because Lentbender had spoken to the alien before, the other
loggers said nothing and let the old man continue the talking. ‘Do you have a special
reason to make such claim on our hospitality?’ Lentbender asked. The self-assured
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confidence of the Varanoides made the old suspect that there were more, perhaps many
more aliens around; and potentially well-armed aliens at that. Usually, the Varanoides
were rather shy. If they were not, something was in the bush. In this case, quite of lot of
aliens could be hiding in the bushes around the camp, armed to the teeth.
‘Us hungry food give you. Us warning tell you’, said the bigger one of the two Varanoides.
Lentbender contemplated for a short moment. If there were many more Red Scales in the
woods around them, it was better to treat those here well. If there were no other aliens
with these two, the loggers could likewise be well-advised to treat them. Varanoides had
excellent senses and knew how to survive in the wild. They could possibly share some
valuable information. If those Red Scales were mere imposters, not much would be lost
either because they could anyway not eat all of the food in the kettle; and neither could
the loggers. They had found a great quantity of edibles this day and prepared them all. By
tomorrow, the food would be stale at best; or rotten. So, why not give the two alien
fellows some and treat them as guests. Who could know what that could be good for?
‘Why not’, Lentbender therefore said. ‘Come here, sit with us and take food.’
The two Varanoides came, were given one of the deep wooden bowls that the loggers had
made here for themselves each and handed over the long basting ladle to take as much as
they wanted. They happened to want quite a lot. An old saying came to Lentbender’s
mind: ‘If you want to eat with the devil, you need along spoon!’ In the red shine of the fire,
the Varanoides looked quite devilish with their claws and their red scaled skin. They
yellow eyes were wide open, though, and did not display the typical slit that they showed
at daytime.
‘Would you tell me why lead you here?’ Lentbender wanted to know. All of the other
loggers also wanted to know that. They did not ask, though. They just wanted to hear the
answer. They did not want to hear their own voice standing out proclaiming the question.
‘Us come warn danger you’, replied the bigger alien. Then, the Varanoide stood up and
took some more food from the kettle. He moved with astonishing calm and implicitness.
Varanoides were ferocious fighters. They were usually calm, very calm. Once they got into
fighting mood, though, their unrelenting, adamant spirit made them feared opponents;
unbending and uncompromising. Yet, against twenty loggers, fully grown, healthy, strong
men, two Varanoides would stand only a small chance. Still, none of the humans wanted
to fight with them. Till that moment, the aliens had not done them any harm. The Red
Scales apparently slightly insolent demeanour wasn’t reason enough for the loggers to
incite the loggers to fight; especially not now, after they had their good fill and wanted to
relax after a full day of hard work. But in some way, the sentiment of felt misconduct had
to be expressed. Instead of breaking lose a brawl, one of the loggers let pass gas the most
clarion way. After blowing the big trumpet for an astonishingly long time, he happily
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leaned back, perfectly satisfied with his acoustic and olfactory odour signature. Another
logger burped with equal pleasure.
‘Silence!’ hissed the bigger of the two Varanoides. That was his only reaction. Some of the
other loggers, though, had to control themselves not to comment on the mighty stink that
was suddenly spreading. A few moments later, they had to control themselves not to run
away from that very same mighty stink. It was a wonder that the campfire’s glowing
ember did not light up the odorous gasses. But luckily, the camp was in the wilderness and
the stench disappeared again after some time, gone with the soft wind.
‘Wind direction other. Problem no. Enemy smell no’, uttered the big Varanoide. Then, he
turned to the smaller alien and hissed something in his own language. Nobody of the
loggers understood. They did not have to understand it, though, because the request was
meant for the other Varanoide who stood up and disappeared into the woods. ‘Lifeboat
get’, uttered the remaining alien to explain the action of the one who had gone.
‘A lifeboat you have’, said Lentbender, involuntarily adapting to the distorted grammar of
the Varanoide. The alien did not answer but looked at one of the loggers who had a small
nose, blueish black thick hair, almond-shaped, high cheek bones, fleshy, very muscular
forearms and calves, broad knees, very slim hips, and edgy shoulders. ‘Nǐ huì shuō zhōng
wén ma?‘ the Varanoide said to this man. ‘Can you speak Chinese?’
‘Shì de, wǒ kěyǐ shuō zhōngguó huà‘, answered that man.
For some reason, the one human language giving least trouble to the Varanoides was
Chinese. While the Red Scales had tremendous trouble learning the standard human
lingua franca, and cope with it on a daily basis in a fluent way, they picked up Chinese
with least trouble. Maybe that was because both Chinese and the Varanoide languages
shared some important feature of their grammar: They had hardly any. Both the Chinese
tongue in all her dialects and the Varanoide languages had very restricted, very simple
grammar. There was a whole host of Varanoide languages, seeming all very different to
the Red Scales who only remained among themselves. Those Varanoide linguists who had
endeavoured to research alien languages, found their tongues all very similar and the
alien ways of communication very different. It has to be remembered, though, that for the
Varanoides the humans were the aliens. Anyway, Varanoides found it least burdensome
to learn and speak Chinese and talking in that language was what this one alien did. He
was to speak and the man who could understand him had to translate. Thus the
Varanoide requested. The logger nodded. But first, he wanted to enlighten his
companions who were looking at him eagerly.
‘My parents taught me pure Chinese together with the general human lingua franca’, the
man explained, as everybody looked at him with amazement as he could apparently
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understand the alien. ‘The Varanoide also speaks Chinese, so we can communicate’, he
elucidate his companions.
‘We have eyes and ears’, the alien began to tell, always translated by Tiān Míngyuè, the
logger with the Chinese ancestors. ‘The villains also have eyes and ears. We could smell
and see your fire. The Villains could see and smell your fire, too’, indicated the Varanoide.
It did not come as a surprise to the loggers that villains should have eyes and ears and
could see and smell the fire, if they were here. The loggers believed themselves to be very
much alone here, though.
‘What villains?’ the loggers asked. ‘We don’t have enemies here. We’re alone here. And if
we were not alone, we would be by far strong enough to defend ourselves’, the men
insisted.
‘Lentbender from the Saposulest Region along the Sourim Stream and his friends are
wrong’, insisted the Varanoide, directing his words
‘How do you know who I am?’, the old man wanted to know.
‘We hid in the dark behind some big trees here nearby’, answered the alien. ‘We had to
make sure you were those whom we wanted to warn’, he explained. ‘We stood there and
listened and so we learned who you were.’
In that moment, the soft sound of a very gentle breeze moving the leaves of the trees was
to be heard. The other Varanoide had come back with the lifeboat. He softly placed in
next to the garage and the hut where there was a free lot suitable for landing it.
‘Gangsters are coming to rob your hoarding’, the Varanoide sitting with the loggers near
the campfire’s glowing ember continued to report.
‘Then they need to bring a big spaceship’, objected Lentbender with scepticism. ‘We have
cut quite many nice trees and amassed a good number of excellent tree trunks but we
haven’t yet sold them. Tom Grand was to organise the collection; among other matters.
It’s a good deal of work to take away such an amount of wood. People who happen to
have a spaceship big enough for that undertaking usually can’t be bothered to loot logs’,
the old man insisted.
‘The gangsters might now know that’, retorted the Varanoide. ‘They spied on Tom Grand
on-board the great spaceship Ostia, when she came up the Arcus Stream. They learned
something about a great hoarding or great wealth. They might have thought of gold or
silver. But whatever they thought, they are close to here now’, recounted the alien.
Because the loggers were curious to know more, the Varanoide gave them a detailed
description of what had happened on the big spaceship Ostia and later on the smaller
spaceship Nellie Fortier. The alien also told how he and his son, for the smaller of the two
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Varanoides was his son, were tracing the gangsters through hyperspace. Some aliens from
that race had a remarkable capability to follow objects through hyperspace. Anything
going through hyperspace left traces; some more and bigger, some less and smaller, but
traces they all left. In a mighty hyperspace stream like the Arcus or even the Vertmacon
and on the middle and lower reaches of the Sev Kerel, reading those traces was extremely
difficult to impossible. When space boats or hoppers were travelling along very narrow
currents like those spanning far away from the main streams, the traces were better to
recognise. These traces consisted of small swirls and turbulence and vorticity caused by
objects moving through those narrow tunnels. The currents remained disturbed to a more
or less conspicuous level and they remained like that for seconds, minutes, hours, or even
days, depending on the current and the object that had gone through it. The Varanoides
could make sense out of those swirls, turbulence, and vorticities which they say and felt.
Something of them was to be seen and something of them was to be felt by the
movements their forces exercised on a following object. For humans, those forces were
just nuisances, making a hopper shake and quake a little, for example. For the Varanoides,
those effects were valuable traces that could be read and followed.
The gangsters had avoided to touch ground on planet Nosubig Egaso because that location
was already too populated for their purpose. The residents there did not appreciate well
what the villains had done and if they could come to know what had happened, by
anyone complaining about their theft of a lifeboat from a star ship for example, the
inhabitants might be in the mood of conducting some quick lynching; for revenge to be
satisfied, for reasons of deterrence, and for the sake of some little diversion. The
gangsters therefore took a detour around that place and travelled further on through the
area of the Varanoide Heekarea tribe. The villains moved along the Gulwo Stream. That
was a major hyperspace current and so big, that following the traces of such a small vessel
like the lifeboat of the gangsters was seemingly impossible. Yet, the Varanoides had still
managed the feat. It came to their pass that there was no other traffic during that time on
the Gulwo Stream. Thus, the villains where the only ones to cause any disturbances in the
current. The Varanoides remained closely behind them, just out of visibility. The gangsters
then moved up the Odacatsee Stream.
It was about there, when it became apparent that the gangster’s stolen lifeboat was
making much further anymore. After all, lifeboats weren’t meant for criss-crossing the
galaxy. They were designed and built for getting out of danger and to the next inhabitable
planet for sure; and possibly till the net actually inhabited world. The villains landed on a
planet of mainly lonesome wilderness where they found a little camp of some Varanoides
from the Arru tribe. The gangsters raided that camp and obtained a number of hoppers.
Unfortunately, the villains were too fast and the pursuing two Varanoides came too late
to warn and support their fellow compatriots.
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It was a curious robbery and it underscored the dangerousness of Claybrinck and his gang.
When standing one-to-one in close-quarter combat, Varanoides were not known to
regularly succumb to human martial skills. With their claws and their tough skin, they
excellent senses and their bigger, heavier, very muscular bodies, the Varanoides were
formidable fighters. The Varanoides from the Arru tribe who had their hoppers stolen
must have been utterly surprises by the gangsters’ assault. There wasn’t any good
explanation as to how it could have happened that the Varanoides lost and the human
villains won; especially as the humans had been un-armed till that moment. Together with
the Arru tribe Varanoides’ hoppers, the villains also obtained weapons. So, from this
moment on Claybrinck and his men were armed and thus more dangerous than before.
The small lifeboat that the two pursuing Varanoides used also slowly started giving signs
of exhaustion. Luckily, they came across some other Red Scales, this time from the
Ibaiaren Jendea tribe. They could trade in some vital spare parts and got the little space
craft going on well again. The trading had taken some time, though, not least because of
the required ceremonies of respect and the need to preserve dignity but not being pushy
and too much ‘down to business’. Because of that social use of time, the two Varanoides
had been delayed a bit and the gangsters gained some advance again.
The villains lead by Claybrinck had then travelled along the fairly small and narrow
Odacatsee Stream and moved from there on toward the major Arcus Stream. They
followed the Arcus till they arrived at the lower end of the Sev Kerel Stream. It was
extremely difficult for the two pursuing Varanoides to follow Claybrinck and his gang
along the great Arcus Stream. The current was so broad and deep and wide and strong
and the energy tides were such a nuisance, that they actually lost the traces. It was only
from a combination of a lucky guess and sophisticated considerations of navigation, that
the Varanoides would come to see the tracks of the gangsters again. Because of the route
that the villains were taking, the Varanoides could approximate where they were heading.
Later on, when the Sev Kerel Stream was thinning out and splitting up into many small
and tiny and ever smaller currents, the Varanoides found the traces of their prey again.
They followed Claybrinck and his gangsters till they reached the planet Naditira. As the
villains did not immediately approach the loggers but landed and set up a little camp of
their own, the Varanoides had chosen to visit the loggers first and warn them of the
imminent danger.
Now the loggers understood. After such a detailed story they also believed. The story did
not sound like a hoax to them. Varanoides were anyway not famous for engaging is storytelling and making up hoaxes. The effects of the report upon the loggers were that the
men now eradicated the remaining glow of the campfire’s ember entirely and that they
whispered only. They poured sand and earth over the ember and looked into the
surrounding forest, listening intensely.
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‘How far is the camp site of this Claybrinck and his men?’ old Lentbender asked.
‘About half an hour of your customary time’, replied the bigger Varanoide.
‘They probably did not see our campfire but they could have smelled the smoke’,
Lentbender suspected, whom his experience had turned into the voice of his group, now
that trouble was brewing. ‘We obviously felt too save here’, he stated.
‘When did they arrive?’ the old man requested to learn.
‘About an hours of your time before sunset here’ the bigger Red Scale responded.
‘What did they do?’, asked Lentbender. ‘Did they start searching for us?’
‘Cannot tell because we should better not be in their vicinity during daytime’, the alien
gave back. ’Human eyes react strongly on the colour red and we are very red’, he
explained. ‘During the night, though, the human lose their sense of colour and then we
look dark’, detailed the Varanoide. ‘Therefore, we chose to warn you first. That was the
best option available.’
In that very moment, both the Varanoides solidified. Then the bigger alien whispered so
silently that only his translator could get the words: ‘I see a movement at the corner of
the hut. Sit still and don’t talk. I will crawl there and inspect what I there.’ With these
words, he lowered himself down to the ground and glided over the surface like a shadow.
After a few meters, he was not to be seen anymore.
A few minutes passed by. The loggers were listening carefully. Darkness surrounded them,
as the campfire had been extinguished, the forest was dense, and the clouds were thick
and hung deep. It was the sort of environment where the ears became important.
Possessing other senses, like a very fine sense of vibration, magnetic senses, a feeling for
warmth, and so on was also an advantage.
Suddenly, there was a strange sound. It was a very short, suffocated attempt of a shriek,
followed by the sound of something soft going down to the ground. Soon after, the
Varanoide came back. Had there been light, the loggers could have seen that his claws
were bloody.
‘It was a scout from the gangsters’, the alien told. ‘He won’t report anything anymore;
every’, the Varanoide stated firmly. The Red Scale had deep-crawled silently from the
fireplace away and around the hut and approach the gangsters’ scout from behind. Then,
he had grabbed his throat and slit it with his claws while slashing the claws of his other
hand into the man’s body below the ribs. The Varanoide had been efficient. Instead of
trying to strangle the scout he had slit is carotid artery and the other main blood vessels
bringing oxygen to the brain. In most such cases, the lights went off in the victim’s head
immediately. There usually was enough oxygen in the head to keep the brain going for
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another twenty to even forty seconds after the severance of the arteries but those cases
were rare. The loss of blood pressure alone normally knocked the prey off. In addition, the
claws being rammed into the scout’s back caused such a terrible shock of pain, so that the
victim could not even shout anymore, being like frozen by pain. Fractions of a second later,
the claws had severed the abdominal aorta and then closed in on the heart, penetrating it
and tearing long, deep cuts through it. The sound that the man still gave was caused by air
being pressed out of his lungs by the thrust of the Varanoide’s claws.
‘There may have been a second scout’, warned the Varanoide. ‘He might return to his
team and inform them. So you should hurry up if you want to reconnoitre the villains’, the
red-scaled alien advised.
‘That’s right’, agreed Lentbender. ‘I will come with you and you will lead me, as you
already know the place where the gangsters have set up their camp. They may not yet
know that we are informed about their presence. So, they will feel secure and maybe we
can find out more about what their plans are and how we can neutralise that threat.’
Then he asked Tiān Míngyuè to come along as translator. Tiān Míngyuè agreed.
‘Let’s be silent and clandestine, remain concealed by undergrowth and bushed’, the
Varanoide instructed the old man and the logger of Chinese ancestry. ’If there is another
scout of them here, he should not recognise that we’re going. Best, take only knives and
pistols. Long guns are just a hindrance when deep crawling’, the alien directed.
‘What will the others do in the meanwhile?’ asked Lentbender.
‘They should secure the camp and wait in total silence till we return’, said the Red Scale,
assigning the tasks. ‘My son will stay with them and help them with the defence.’
The loggers accepted the instructions and retreated carefully toward the huts and the
garage and the other positions, where they could defend themselves better against any
surprise attack. The Varanoide, the old man, and the ethnic Chinese logger slowly and
silently crawled away from the camp for some distance. It took them quite some time
because they moved carefully and tried to avoid any sound. Once they had covered a
sufficient distance from the camp, they slowly rose up and walked into the direction
where the camp of the gangsters was to be found.
The loggers’ camp had been erected in a depression on the downwind side of on the
foothills of some mountain range. It was decently far above a river to be out of reach from
the floods. The gangsters had set up their camp on a glade near the river. They initially
had not seen the loggers’ camp because the huts and other installations were protected
from view by the mighty crowns of the trees surrounding it. Only from directly above
could the place be spotted. Also, the villains had only a rough idea of the precise
whereabouts of the loggers’ temporary abode. Claybrinck had figured out the
approximate location from the hacked memory of Sherbetor’s little computer. He had
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brought his gang to that vicinity. Searching for the loggers by flying around with the
hoppers was too conspicuous. Claybrinck did not want to warn the loggers of his and his
men’s arrival. Therefore, he had decided to set up a camp first and then search for the
loggers’ location by foot.
Over much of its length, the banks of the river that was flowing near those two camps
were very steep. Where the gangsters had set up their place, there was a meadow on a
glade, bordering to the pebbled river bank on one side. On another side, there was high
reed, and then there were the bushes and trees of the surrounding forest.
The Varanoide led the two humans down to the river bank. It was a difficult trail because
it was very dark and the hill was quite steep in that place where they descended from the
higher level where the loggers had their camp down till they came close to the water
surface.
Lentbender was an experienced logger and had spent much time as an adventurer and
pioneer. He knew the surrounding because he had lived here with the other men of his
group for some time now. The Varanoide had just arrived. Still, that alien could lead the
two humans with an astonishing surety. With the Red Scale as their leader, they did not
bump into anything, did not fall or stumble, did not get stuck, and did not get hurt,
despite the pitch-black darkness of the night. The Varanoide moved along between the
trees and bushed and across the forest floor with such sureness as if it was under bright
daylight.
Silently they reached the vicinity of the river. There, the purling of the stream’s water
covered other sounds, if they remained within a certain limit. Led by the Varanoide, the
two loggers moved along the river bank. It took them about a quarter of an hour till they
came close to the gangsters’ camp site. There was a small rivulet running toward the
much bigger river. It was so small that one could stride it with a single large step. T ran
past the gangsters’ camp site, providing them with fresh water but also adding to the
sounds and noises of the environment with its gentle purling, coming from the water
softly lapping against the stones of its bed. Those sounds were not loud but they provided
a kind of noise blanket that covered other occurrences like the rattling of gravel, when the
Varanoide and the two loggers moved along the stony river bank.
Like the loggers in their own camp, the gangsters also had lit up a nice big fire. There was
dead wood enough around. The place often experiences strong storms and those broke
off branches enough. The river also broke off and then again deposited wood along its
way, leaving driftwood on its banks. All that provided a generous supply of firewood. The
gangsters made ample use of it. Planet Naditira was home to insect-like species and here,
in this vicinity, these creatures preferred the proximity of water. These insect-like beings
had molested the villains enough to incite them to ignite a veritable bonfire. That bonfire
lit up the place quite well. It also did a good job expulsing the insects with its fumes and
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neutralising them with its flames. On Naditira as on many other worlds, the small, insectlike forms of life often had the habit of flying right into any fire they could find. That was
feature of mixed blessing. It provided for molestation and it likewise enabled the remedy
of the nuisance.
‘They are very careless’, the Varanoide stated. ‘We can easily get close and approach them
without getting detected by them’.
‘We’ll be able to get close’, Lentbender acknowledged. ‘But if we can get close enough to
listen what they are talking about and to learn what their plans are is not yet certain’, he
doubted.
‘We can get close enough to listen’, confirmed the Varanoide. ‘In case they detect us, we
have to assist each other. We have to finish-off the immediate attacker and retreat to the
wood forthwith. It’s too dark for them to follow us fast. They would need to turn on
torches. With torches on, our people would see them and could snipe at them from afar.’
The others agreed and so the small team moved even closer to the gangsters’ campground.
Somewhat to the other side of the campfire, the villains had parked their robbed hoppers.
The hoppers often had alarm systems. If those hoppers here had any, nobody from the
small, approaching team could now. They did not want to risk it, though. The gangsters’
might also have used simple detection systems like thin threads connected to tin cans as
their makeshift alarm device.
The Varanoide, Lentbender, and Tiān Míngyuè lay down to the ground. Then, they
crawled yet closer to the gangsters. There were some bushes at the rim of the forest. The
approaching team used those as cover at first. Then, the alien guided his two companions
toward an area of dense reed. It grew abundantly along the small rivulet that ran past the
villains’ campsite and very close to the place where they had arranged their bonfire.
The task now was to get through those high, dense-standing stalks of the reed-type plants
without causing any distinguishable noise and without attracting attention by the
movement of the reed. If a stem of reed was moved a little near the ground, the tip of it
could move a lot more, thus producing a signal to an attentive observer that something
was approaching. Therefore, the tips of the reed should not move because otherwise it
discovery could easily be brought about.
The Varanoide reduced the risk of detection evoked by moving tips of reed by cutting the
reed near the root with his very sharp knife. Thus, he cut a way through the dense reed
for himself and his two human companions, who followed him closely. Despite the reed
being fairly hard ant tough, the alien managed to cut it in astonishing silence and without
causing more motion than the soft wind was generating anyway. The little sounds they
created were clouded by the soft murmur of the small rivulet and the gushing of the
bigger river that was also not very far.
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Clandestinely, the Red Scale, Lentbender, and Tiān Míngyuè made their way through the
reed till they came surprisingly close to the big bonfire that the gangster had set up. The
villains were continuing to throw further wood into the fire. There were lots of old, dry
wood around; driftwood and branches that the wind had broken off. Why Claybrinck, who
usually was more cautious, allowed that to happen was his secret alone.
The group of three who had broken off from the loggers’ camp where now close enough
to the bonfire listen to the conversations that the gangsters were leading, who were
keeping around the fireplace. The villains made it easy for the three scouts because they
spoke in their normal voice and made no attempts to be silent. Lentbender did not remain
behind the Varanoide and slowly made his way to come up to the alien, likewise cutting
reed. Once they were shoulder to shoulder, the old man looked at the gangsters whom he
could see from between the reed. ‘Who is the leader?’ Lentbender asked.
‘Here not leader’, replied the alien. Their translator Tiān Míngyuè had remained behind
them and using his services was not advisable now, as they either would have to speak
louder or move back.
‘Maybe the leader is searching for us’, the old man speculated.
‘Supposition’, answered the Varanoide. That probably was supposed to mean something
like ‘I suppose’. At least that was how the old man chose to understand it.
‘Did you kill the leader?’, Lentbender wanted to know.
‘No’, came immediately the confident answer.
‘It was dark. How do you know?’ the old man inquired.
‘Touch. Smell. Listen’, the alien answered.
‘So they were two and you finished off one of them’, Lentbender concluded.
‘Likely’, the Varanoide confirmed. ‘Wait we’, he continued. ‘Back come leader. Listen, see
leader do’, the alien suggested. Lentbender agreed.
For some time now, the gangsters were talking about anything but the issued that the
three scouts wanted to hear about. Finally, somebody among the villains happened to
touch the right topic. ‘Would like to know if the colonel was right with his assumption.
Would be annoying if the loggers had already left or were really never here at all. The info
could be wrong’, he griped. Obviously, he did not like the place and probably he did not
like the travel to this place either.
‘The loggers are still here’, answered another one of the gangsters. ‘They are fairly close.
There was fresh saw dust in the river. Saw it right when we came here. The light from the
evening sun came in with just the right angle to see that well. They must have worked
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upstream that day. Walked into the river and took some with my hand. They’re just a day
or two old’, explicated the more knowledgeable villain.
‘But if that’s right, we should retreat because here we’re so close to the guys that they
must perceive our presence’, concluded the first speaker. ‘They should not see us. We
want to take their treasure in surprise and then disappear again. Best, if they were out for
work while we grab the hoarding’, he laid out his stratagem.
‘We’re not gonna get it’, a third gangster grumbled discontented. ‘We attempt it so
stupidly that it will be a wonder of heaven if we succeed. It’s impossible that it will work.
Don’t you think that the loggers won’t notice us here? We’re leaving traces that are too
obvious. Just look at our mighty bonfire. The smoke is already filling half the valley. If the
loggers are anywhere the smoke is blowing, they’ll be warned. It’s probably to be smelled
for a dozen kilometres or more. When in forests, people pay attention to the smell of
burning wood. The traces that we are leaving couldn’t even be exterminated if we tried
hardest. That fireplace here, our camp site, the impression marks of our heavier stuff and
of our boots on the soft soil of the meadow. And once the loggers know about our
presence, they might guess our intentions. Even if not, they’ll be cautious. Than out plan is
down the drain’, this third villain who spoke about the scheme grouched.
‘We just shoot them’, yet another one gangster spoke up. ‘We won’t let them the treasure.
It’s our prey and we want it. Anyone between us and the bounty id death-bound’, he
ranted.
‘And you think they will just stand in line and let themselves be shot, or what?’ somebody
else rejected the approach. ‘I have told the colonel but he did not want to listen to me’,
the fellow uttered his displeasure about Claybrinck’s deficiency of regard for his views.
‘That the colonel is now gone and into the dark forest to look for the loggers is likewise
again such a nonsense. He could have waited till tomorrow. When anything is lost, a night
more or less does not matter. But stumbling during the pitch-black night through a dark
forest that we don’t know and where we haven’t ever before been does not make sense.
It’s not reasonable and we should know to do better.’ Suddenly, the man shut up. He had
seen something, a movement at the rim of the glade, from the corner of his eye.
In that moment, the person whom the other gangsters had just talked about broke in
from among the trees and approached the brightly burning bonfire. He saw the curious
eyes of his people fixed upon him. ‘Can’t bring you good news, folks’, Claybrinck said.
‘We’ve had back luck’, he declared.
‘What happened?’ everybody else wanted to know. ‘What news?’ the gangsters inquired.
‘Where is Isemek?’, they asked. Isemek was the other fellow who had accompanied
Claybrinck on the scouting mission to discover the loggers’ camp. ‘Why didn’t Isemek
come back with you?’ the villains requested to be told.
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Claybrinck sat down. ‘Isemek?’ he asked back. ‘He won’t come back at all, never. He’s
dead!’
‘Dead’, the villains shouted in anger, fear, and disbelief. ‘You must be kidding’, some
exclaimed. ‘Why did you leave him?’ others shot of in the tone of an interrogation. Their
level of stress was obviously very high because else they would not have dared to talk to
their leader in such words and in that voice. ‘Did he have an accident?’ one fellow asked.
‘Nobody could have killed him; just out there in that lonely, dark forest’, another one
speculated.
‘How smart you are!’ Claybrinck gave back. ‘Of course Isemek had an accident. He met
with the claws of a Varanoide that slit his throat and tore his heart from the rear’, the
gang leader reported.
This bad news caused great commotion among the villains. Everybody shot of his
questions concerning where and what and who and why and how and whatever else came
to the mind of the villains in that stressful moment. Claybrinck wanted to answer but he
did could not as everybody was just creating a ruckus. Therefore, the gang leader first had
to calm down the villains. He lifted his hands and gestured that he would answer all
questions one by one and tell the whole storey if left the opportunity. Once there was
sufficient calm and half-way decent silence again, Claybrinck began to recount what had
happened.
‘I took Isemek along because he’s the best scout in our gang; or rather he was the best
scout in our gang, till he got murdered’, Claybrinck justified his choice of Isemek as his
companion on that scouting mission to find the loggers’ camp. ‘Isemek did a great job and
his nose led us to the camp of the loggers’, the gang leader told.
‘His nose?’ asked the gangster who seemingly had an inclination to speak up first among
the villains.
‘Yes, his nose’, Claybrinck confirmed. ‘We had suspected the loggers’ camp to be further
up-hill because of the debris around here on the river banks. The debris is pointing to
frequent floods and therefore any camp that it set up to remain for some time would
rather be out of reach of those floods. Therefore, we went up-hill. It’s a windy place here,
as can be seen from the many broken-off tips of trees. We looked for a place that should
be somewhat protected from winds. There is a depression on one of the flanks of the
foothills around here and there we went to search for the loggers’ camp. We went into
that direction but we go on slowly only, because had to be very careful to hide among the
bushed and trees as we could easily be seen otherwise. We also suspected both wild
animals and traps set up for any such beasts to be in that forest. For this reason, we got
on even more slowly, and it was dark. I already wanted to turn back, but Isemek was not
willing to do that. He said he had seen several fresh traces and that the loggers must be
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around here fairly close by. He said we would smell the loggers, because they had to have
a fire for cooking food, warming up and against the annoying, insect-like airborne
creatures here. His perception proved to be true, because it smelled like smoke at last,
and at the height of the hill’s flank there was finally a slight glow like a fire whose light
passes through bushes and trees. We climbed up and were able to see the fire in front of
us. It burned in front of a log-house, and around the campfire sat the loggers, their faces
turned towards the flames. They were twenty, just as many as we are. To eavesdrop, we
crept closer. I was lying under a tree, and Isemek slowly crawled behind the main
blockhouse. We had not even found time to pay attention to the conversation, when
suddenly two strangers came. They were not humans from the loggers’ group, but
strangers, aliens in fact. Guess who they were? They were Varanoides very much looked
like the two Varanoides we briefly encountered on-board the Ostia.’
The gangsters were astonished to learn that those very same Varanoides should also be
here. Did not all the Red Scales look the same; more or less? How could their boss be so
certain? They asked and uttered disbelief.
One villain, though, put the blame on something else: ‘That’s the result of your damn
goodness, colonel’, the upset gangster complained. ‘You invite the fellows for a drink and
that’s how they thank it. Give ‘em a drink and lose a man. That ain’t our fairness!’
‘Yeah’, shouted another villain. ‘This damn galaxy is too damn small for all the damn
creatures in it. Every damn now and then you damn see a damn face damn again that you
damn didn’t want to damn see any damn more again, damn it!’
After cursing enough, the gangsters wanted to know more. They were not yet fully
convinced that those murderous Varanoides whom their boss reported about were really
those from the spaceship Ostia. What should they follow them and why should they kill
poor Isemek for no rhyme or reason, just because he was creeping to the loggers’ camp
and spying on them? After all, the gangsters had not yet done the loggers any harm, so it
was unfair for their future victims to start defending themselves pre-emptively, and strike
before the villains could even have a chance to start committing their own atrocities.
Making the other members of the gang shout less and listen more, Claybrinck told them
what he heard the Varanoide say. He did not here all because the alien had spoken easy
and with the customary devilish accent and terrible grammar the Varanoides were famous,
and famously ridiculed, for. After a few of the usual curses uttered by the villains,
Claybrinck continued with his narration: ‘I saw that the Red Scales completely
extinguished the fire. Then, everybody spoke so softly that I could not understand
anything anymore. By that time I definitively wanted to return here, but of course I had to
wait for Isemek. Suddenly I heard a scream so terrible, so frightening that it went through
my spine up and down. He scream came from the cabin, behind which Isemek stuck.’ Here,
Claybrinck improvised with some inventions to rally his gang firmly behind him and his
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cause. As a matter of fact, Isemek had hardly any chance to scream; and he did not. There
had been a little sound from the air that was squeezed out of the man’s lungs when the
Varanoide thrust his clags into the victim’s back. Because of the brute force of that thrust,
some air escaped through the slit throat. It did not get modulated through the vocal cords
or the throat. Yet, to make Isemek’s suffering more appealing to his fellow gangsters,
Claybrinck added some of his inventions to the truth. They should become desperately
hungry for savage revenge.
Then, Claybrinck continued with his report, remaining rather close to the reality. Even for
a frequent and in fact habitual liar, inventing some coherent story out of nothing was
cumbersome, if it had to be done fast. And there was no reason right now for doing that
either. The truth was sufficient for his purposes; or at least his slight made-up version of
the truth. ‘I was afraid for him, and so I snuck around the camp to the hut. It was so dark
that I had to grope my way forward. Here my hand touched a human body, which lay in a
pool of blood. I felt from the clothes that it was Isemek, and was shocked at the violent
fate that he had suffered. He had a slit throat and a great wound in the back, which must
have penetrated into the heart. Therefore, he was solidly dead. What could I do? I
emptied his pockets, took his knife and his pistol at me and left him alone. When I came
back to the forest, I noticed that the loggers were retiring to their blockhouse as I heard
their steps. There was nothing for me to do there anymore and I made a bolt for it.’
The gangsters indulged in terms of raw pity about the death of their companion and wild
curses against the merciless murderer who had slaughtered him. Their leader, though,
soon made an end to it by saying: ‘Let it be now! We don’t have time for it here and now,
because we have to leave immediately.’
Some of the gangsters were not creatures blessed with the utmost intelligence. Therefore,
or maybe also because they felt just so well outside after a long time of travelling on
cramped hoppers, they asked for the reason to retreat. ‘Why?’ many of the villains asked.
Just before their leader came, one out of their middle had explained to them why they
should retreat from this place. Obviously, not all the gangsters had understood the
reasoning, despite the detailed display of the facts ruling the tactical situation.
‘Why!’ Claybrinck shouted back. ‘Did you not get that those Varanoides are her at the
camp of the loggers and that they know our campsite, too? Isemek already got killed. The
Varanoides and the loggers will raid us together. They already killed one of us. They will
want to kill all of us now. Their assault is likely to happen by tomorrow early morning.
They might also suspect that we’ll be missing Isemek and thus they could come even
earlier, not to spoil the surprise. If we let them surprise us, then we’ll be in trouble. They
know the area better than we do. Therefore, we must move immediately.’
‘But more where to?’ the villains asked.
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‘Right away to Arrano Buzutane Station’, Claybrinck replied decisively.
‘All right, to collect the bounty from there; going for the accrued cash receipts of the
express company, as you had told us earlier, Colonel’, answered some other gangster. ‘But
the loggers’ hoarding we let go then’, the same fellow uttered with dissatisfaction.
‘Unfortunately’, Claybrinck responded. ‘It will be the smartest move and….’ In that
moment something had come to his attention and he stopped talking immediately. With
his hands he motioned the others to be silent but most of those villains did not
comprehend the gesture. Instead of being silent, they started asking stupid questions.
‘What’s up?’ one yelled. ‘What’s up with you?’ another one shouted. ‘Tell us more!’ a
third one demanded loudly.
For Claybrinck that ruckus meant that he had to act on his own. Oh, how hard it was these
days for a gangster boss to find qualified personnel! The quality of the available
accomplices just wasn’t going up! What the heck had happened to all those fearless,
furious felons who used to roam the galaxy? Thus, Claybrinck all thought in a moment of
intense self-pity.
After he had self-pitied himself sufficient, Claybrinck slowly stood up from where he had
sat down just moments ago. He had been sitting fairly close to the spot where the
Varanoide and Lentbender had lain in waiting. Those two, though, were not together at
this position within the dense growth of the concealing reed anymore. Only the
experienced Varanoide, a skilled scout and predator, was still at his position, which
offered the advantageous combination of a decent view and an equally decent protection
from visibility.
Other than the red alien, Lentbender had moved. For when the old man had heard the
voice of Claybrinck and his eyes had fallen on the face of the gangster boss, lit up brightly
by the exuberant bonfire, a burning lightning of recognition had struck him. A very
unusual, horrendous excitement had seized Lentbender and ghastly and heinous feelings
of revenge had taken possession of him. The eyes and ears of the old man had homed in
on the gangster boss and the face and voice of that man had taken possession of
Lentbender’s mind, which further increased with every word of the villain and every
flicker of light that hushed over Claybrinck’s features. Thus motivated by heinous hatred,
Lentbender did remain to not lie quiet, but pushed further and further forward through
the reeds. His eyes glowed of ogreish passion, and it seemed as if they wanted to pop out
of their caves. In this excitement he forgot the necessary precautions. He did not care that
his head was almost sticking out of the reeds.
The Varanoide realised that something very wrong was happening and tried to pull the old
man back by grabbing his leg and pulling it. But it was already too late. All leg pulling did
not help as Claybrinck had already seen the head that wasn’t concealed by reed anymore.
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That glance of a stranger’s face amidst the reed near his siting place at the bonfire had
been the reason for Claybrinck’s sudden silence; when he had interrupted his speech and
had stood up.
Claybrinck’s intention was to render the strange listener harmless by swift, decisive action.
He proceeded with great cunningness in this endeavour, saying: ‘It just occurred to me
that I was there with the hoppers yet forgot something.’ Here he made a little break, as if
in thoughts. ‘But, you both get even with!’ he continued then. With these words he
motioned at two of the villains who were among the best fighters and had a reasonably
quick wit. These men had been sitting rather close to him. They moved toward Claybrinck
and were ready to walk over with him to the hoppers.
‘I’m just acting in disguise’, Claybrinck said to them very silently. ‘Behind us, there is a guy
in the reed. He’s probably of one of the loggers. If he understands, that we want to catch
him, he’ll run up and away. So, we have to surprise him. Once I give the command and you
see me jumping at him, you do the same and grab him immediately. That way, we’ll
capture him and hold him tight before he realises what’s going on and has the chance to
defend himself and wound me’, the gangster boss explained, susurrating so silently that
no sound came till the ears of the three listeners who were still lying amidst the reed. Not
even the sensitive ears of the Varanoide got the message. The experienced brain of the
red-scaled alien could make sense out of what his good eyes could catch of a glimpse. The
Varanoide was an extremely cautious, experienced and even shrewd alien, accustomed to
hunting and preying, to sneaking up and hiding in ambush. He saw the gangster boss
stand up and whisper to the two other villains; he perceived that one of them made an
involuntary movement backwards. So small and almost unnoticeable this movement was,
to the Varanoide it still revealed what was in the making over there. The Red Scale
touched the old man with his hand and whispered to him: ‘Gone fast! Gangster see you.
Catch you. Fast, fast!’ Having hissed those words, the Varanoide quickly moved with
astonishing silence backward. Moments after having warned the old man, the alien had
already deep-crawled several body lengths backward. It had taken him just a few seconds
to get out of immediate danger. For the old man, it was too late, though.
‘Go’, Claybrinck shouted and jumped to the place where he had seen the stranger’s head,
when it was carelessly peeping through the reed. From his now-safe distance, the
Varanoide saw the gangster boss and his two aids jump at Lentbender.
The old man was completely taken by surprise despite its vaunted presence of mind. The
three gangsters were kneeling on him and held him down, fixing his arms and legs. The
other villains jumped up from the fire and came quickly over to the site of the struggle. It
was now more an arrest as a fight, was Lentbender was entirely at the receiving end,
without any chance or defence, as he was pressed to the ground by the overwhelming
mass of the assaulters. The Varanoide had his knife drawn to assist the old man, but he
had to admit that the virtue of a veritable fighting spirit helped little against these odds. It
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stood one to twenty and the twenty were armed, too. The red-scaled alien could do
nothing more than to see what would happen with the Lentbender and then notify the
other loggers. But avoid being discovered himself, he crawled away from the pathways
cut-out from the reed and moved far off to the side, where he hid behind in densely
overgrown mud.
When they saw the captive, some of the gangsters wanted to shout loud of triumph. Their
boss commanded them silence, though: ‘Hush! We do not know if there are others out
there. Hold him tight. I'll have a look.’ He went around in the vicinity of the bonfire and to
his relief he saw nobody.
Claybrinck commanded to bring the captive closer to the fire. This captive struggled with
all his power to get lose and escape into freedom again, but it was in vain. For his
attempts he earned only punches and kicks and grabs around his arms and legs tightened
even more. Lentbender realized that he had to submit to his fate. He hoped that his fate
would not be too hard as till date he had not caused any harm to the gangsters. Besides,
the thought of the Varanoide afforded the old man a little relief. Certainly, the Varanoide
would return to the camp of his companions and call them to his rescue. That the alien
had not alone fought all those twenty gangsters was something that Lentbender
understood. Despite the Varanoide’s strength and senses, the odds were too much tilted
against the alien to enter such a fight if it could be avoided. Furthermore, if the Varanoide
remained free, he could bring on aid. If he got also caught, he could not.
While several of the villains held old Lentbender to the ground, their leader bent down to
look the captive right into his face. It was a long, very long, sharp, and thoughtfully
inquiring gaze with which he did so. Then, Claybrinck said: ‘Guy, I should remember you!
Where was it only that I saw you last?’
Lentbender refrained himself with the utmost concentration, mastering his feelings and
controlling his expression. Ravening have was burning in the old man’s chest but he went
to great pains to show a calm, apathetic face.
Claybrinck wasn’t so easy to dissuade, though. ‘I must have seen you before’, the gangster
boss insisted. ‘Who are you?’ he asked. ‘Do you belong to the loggers who are working
around here?’ Claybrinck enquired.
‘Yes’, Lentbender replied.
‘Why did you sneak around here?’ requested the gangster boss to learn. ‘Why do you
eavesdrop on us?’
‘Weird question?’ Lentbender gave back. ‘Is it prohibited out here in the free areas of the
galaxy to look at the people coming around?’ the old man gave back a rhetoric question,
just to answer it right away by himself. ‘I mean, rather, that it is a commandment of the
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need for security to do so. There are plenty of people out here of whom one must take
heed’, Lentbender explained with a certain degree of feigned nativity in his expression.
‘Do you perhaps count us among the same?’ Claybrinck inquired.
‘Under what category of people you may be counted, that must first be seen. I do not
know you yet’, Lentbender replied.
‘That's a lie’, Claybrinck shouted. ‘You have heard all of which we have spoken, and you
will therefore know who and what we are.’
‘Nothing I've heard’, Lentbender replied. ‘I was down there by the river and wanted to go
to our camp when I saw your fire and crawled up here to see who camped here, naturally
induced by my curiosity and the need to know one’s neighbours. I found no time to hear
what was being said because I was too careless and therefore I was discovered at the
moment at which I was preparing for listening of you’, Lentbender lied.
The old man hoped that only the one gangster who had been killed by the Varanoide up
there at the loggers’ camp had seen him. Unfortunately, his hope was betrayed as
Claybrinck shouted: ‘That’s all humbug. Just some little time ago I saw you sitting up there
around your campfire with the other loggers. I heard you talk. I very well recognise you.
Will you finally confess?’
‘No way could I confess what is not true’, Lentbender replied, insisting on his testimony.
‘All what I said is the truth. You must confuse me with somebody else’, the old man
reinforces his claim.
‘So, you have been here alone’, Claybrinck concluded.
‘Yes’, confirmed Lentbender with a lie; a very firm and well-pronounced lie, though.
‘And you claim having heard nothing of our conversation’, the gangster boss recapitulated.
‘Not a single word’, the old man insisted.
‘What’s your name?’ Claybrinck asked.
‘Bertram’, Lentbender lied. He thought it much better not to give his real name.
‘Bertram’ repeated the gangster boss thoughtfully. ‘Bertram! I never knew a Bertram who
would have had your face. And yet it seems to me as if we had seen each other. Do you
know me? Do you know my name?’
‘No,’ asserted the old man again untruthfully but with all the feigned honest conviction in
his expression that he could muster. ‘But now let me go! I have done nothing to you and
hope that you are honourable travellers of the galaxy, who let other honourable people
live in peace.’
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‘Yes, but we are indeed honourable men, very honourable men in deed’, Claybrinck
laughed. ‘But you earlier ripped one of us to death and according to the rules of the galaxy
that cries out for revenge. Blood for blood, life for life. May you be whomever you want, it
is all over with you’, the gangster boss accused the old men of severe misdoings, worth
being killed for in revenge.
‘What? You want to kill me?’ Lentbender shouted out aloud. It wasn’t so much his horror
that made him raise his voice to the utmost but the hope that the Varanoide will hear and
understand. The alien should get to know how serious the old man’s situation was and
quickly collect the other loggers to come to Lentbender’s relief.
‘Yes’, confirmed the leading villain. ‘Just as you murdered our comrade’, he denounced
the old man. ‘The only question is whether you, just as he, will die by being mauled or if
we drown you in the river’, Claybrinck offered two choices for the cruel murder that he
wanted to happen. ‘We don’t have any time to lose so we won’t hold a great ceremony.
Let’s quickly vote on it’, the gangster boss now said to his fellow villains. ‘Bind him and
stuff his mouth so that he does not make so much noise’, he ordered. Immediately, some
gangsters started binding Lentbender and stuffed something in his mouth. ‘Whoever is for
throwing him into the river should raise his hand’, Claybrinck requested. That request was
of course directed at the villains. Most of them immediately raised their hands in response.
Drowning the captive victim was less of a hassle than maiming him; and it was less work.
Many of the villains had become gangsters because they were not quite so operose. If
they had the choice between committing a murder the lazy way and the messy way, they
chose the method of least resistance. Being drowned, of course, was just a terrible death;
not obviously better than being maimed.
‘So it will be drowning’, Claybrinck confirmed the sentence that the majority had issued.
‘Tighten his arms and legs a bit more so that he can’t move at all and then quickly throw
him into the river’, the gangster boss ordered his men to hurry up with committing the
crime. ‘Let’s see to it that we’ll be gone before his people have a chance to fall upon us’,
Claybrinck urged his followers.
Despite being bound, the old man resisted with all force. Winding and bending, he wasn’t
easy to grab and carry. Some of the villains got kicked and pushed hard. Filled up with
adrenalin from the fear of being murdered, Lentbender himself felt no pain anymore. He
just moved as hard as he could and struck anyone with any part of his body, even with his
head.
‘Damn it’, Claybrinck growled. ‘If you can’t control him then I will have to calm him down’,
the gangster boss upbraided his minions and took a piece of wood. He lifted it up to give
Lentbender a strong blow to the head. He did not end up following through with his
intended abuse, though. That’s because…
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Just before sunset, four hoppers had arrived at planet Naditira and had landed close to
the location of the two camps. From afar, their pilots could not know which camp
belonged to the loggers; or they both were logger camps. Both locations could also be
gangster camps. Not to stumble into inconvenience like into an ugly surprise, the four
pilots had decided to land their hoppers not directly at the camps but in a little distance,
so as to avoid being detected upon arrival. Then, they wanted to approach slowly and
cautiously through the forest to see from under cover of the dense foliage which camp
belonged to friendly individuals; it any at all.
The four pilots had descended from the clouds somewhere behind a river bend in the
deep valley that housed both camps. They had landed the hoppers downstream from both
camp sites. Then, they followed the river upstream. The four pilots were Tom Grand, Ben
Sommer, Seb Melch, and the youngster, whose name was Duref, by the way.
Slowly and carefully, the four had made their way along the river bank. They did not know
the terrain and they could not be sure if they’d meet with friends or foes. The four knew
that Claybrinck and his other gangsters had a certain advance. When thy had approached
the planet Naditira through hyperspace, Ben Sommer had estimated the advance that the
gang had to be about one hour, if those swirls and turbulences were in deed caused by the
gang and not by somebody else. But somebody had passed through those narrow
hyperspace streams, Ben Sommer was certain. Because Naditira was a rather lonely
destination that was wasn’t usually frequented by many visitors, the natural logical
assumption was that the disturbances had been caused by the gangster. That conclusion
was drawn with a great margin of certainty.
Because it was known that Claybrinck was going after some hoarding that he presumed to
be with the loggers, warning the loggers should be the first action. But when two camps
where found, the question of who were the loggers, in which of the two camps they
resided, arose. The warning should not reach the wrong bunch. The loggers had changed
their camp site after Tom Grand had left them. He knew in which area they were but
wasn’t aware of the precise location. Therefore, the saver and clandestine but again timeconsuming approach on foot through the forest was chosen. They four had covered a bit
more than half the way from the landing spot of their hoppers and the camp near the
river bank, when the night fell. From then on, they had to move even more carefully,
because to the threat posed by the gangsters came the very simple danger of getting hurt
when stumbling into something in darkness. They had purchased night-vision devices at
Nosubig Egaso but in the dense undergrowth, those did not offer much benefit.
Furthermore, fog had risen from the river nearby and crept into the forest. Especially the
stretch of land where the four moved now experienced a very thick fogbank. Again, nightvision did not help them here either.
It was on that sneaking through the forest when suddenly somebody hissed: ‘Stop!’ All
four were frightened at first. The hissing was with a very low voice. From such kind of
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susurrated communication, not much accent or voice recognition is to be derived; not
least because it’s not the usual mode of parlance, so nobody is used to hearing it.
Moments later, the hissing continued, this time very close to Seb Melch. When that man
hissed back sounds that the three other humans did not understand, it was clear to the
rest of his party that Seb Melch was speaking to a Varanoide in that species own tongue.
The Varanoide quickly told the four what had happened and what was going just now. It
was decided that the alien, who was coping best with darkness, should hurry to the
loggers’ camp and get all those to come and help with fighting the gangsters. The
Varanoide also knew the surrounding best, so he should be able to move fastest.
According to the alien’s description and also judging from the smell of the bonfire that the
villains were having, the gang camp wasn’t very far. The four humans would proceed
toward the villains. All of them hoped that the Varanoide was fast to collect the
companions of Lentbender and lead them to that man’s rescue. The odds of four having to
fight twenty did not enjoy the little group.
Soon after meeting the Varanoide, the four saw the flickering of the gangsters’ campfire
shining through the forest. The group glided down to the ground and deep-crawled closer.
They did not approach the villains’ camp via the reed but through the forest. The fire’s
light shone further into the forest than into the dense reed. Therefore, the approaching
four men had to seek cover near the ground, use the undergrowth and anything else that
afforded them cover, like big tree roots.
When the four were close enough to the gangster’s camp to see all, Ben Sommer asked
Duref to move around the camp to the site where the villains had parked their hoppers.
Sommer wanted the youngster to block the retreat of the gangsters toward their hoppers.
The youngster had a projectile rifle and knew well how to use it.
Out of that plan, nothing became. In the very moment that Ben had ended his request to
Duref and the young fellow wanted to get going, the situation changed. In that very
moment, it became apparent that the gangsters wanted to kill Lentbender right here,
right away. It was the moment when Claybrinck had lifted this big piece of wood to smash
Lentbender’s head with it.
The four rose from the ground and started shooting while rushing toward the bonfire,
around which the villains were. After the first few shots, the gangsters realised that an
assault raid had started and dropped to the ground. Claybrinck received a grazing shot and
dropped the wood. The fellows who had lifted up Lentbender also let themselves fall
down to seek cover. In that process, the old man also bumped to the ground. There was
the big bonfire and there were rocks and the uneven ground. There was firing and there
was shouting. A few gangsters started to fire back. Some other villains tried to escape.
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Among all the shooting the gangsters believed the attackers to be many more than they
actually were. Some of the projectiles smashed into the bonfire and by stirring it up and
thrusting ember and burning pieces of wood everywhere, like a hailstorm of fire, the
chaos was increased. That chaos helped some of the gangsters to escape the wrath of the
attackers who wanted to liberate the old man out of that minacious situation.
‘Don’t let them get to the hoppers!’ Ben Sommer shouted. ‘I hold the place’, he assigned a
role for himself. Tom Grand, Seb Melch and Duref ran toward the ground where the
villains had parked their hoppers. Three of the remaining gangsters had actually tried to
get into their hoppers but were so much under fire from the furiously pursuing liberators
of Lentbender, that they could not even open the hoppers and get in, so little time was
left to them. Therefore, they fled further, into the forest.
In the meanwhile, the loggers, who had been waiting in the huts of their camp, laying in
ambush and covered defensive positions, heard the noise from the gangster’s camp. The
shooting was the main contribution to that nice. Those shots that hit the bonfire and
created a shower of sparks also raised awareness. In a forest, fires and smoke and
showers of sparks do attract attention. Even some of the intense shouting made it up to
the loggers camp, because those men had been very silent now to hear any warning sign
of approaching villains. The sounds arriving at their ears were very weak, yet because of
their attentiveness and silence, the loggers could hear them. They were immediately on
high alert. Believing their companion Lentbender to be in immediate danger, they quickly
deliberated about what to do best and came almost immediately to the conclusion that
they needed help. Taking their weapons along, they were seeking to traverse the darkness
of the forest swiftly. They did not want to use lamps because that made them literally
flamboyant, eye-catching targets. They did not have night-vision devices because they
were usually not in need of any. The Varanoide who had remained with the loggers led
them, because he knew the way to the gangsters’ camp and his senses also served him
best in the night.
The weapons themselves did not issue much noise but super-sonic projectiles smacking
into hard wood and smashing on solid rock did cause some sound. There were high-speed
projectiles ricocheting between the hard tree trunks. On Naditira, most trees integrated
large quantities of quartz crystals into their wood. Thus, the wood was very hard and
projectiles were received with much resistance. Because of the high velocity of those
projectiles, some travelled quite far. A few times, the loggers could hear a projectile
hitting a tree above their heads. That was added motivation to remain moving closer to
the ground and seeking cover, where possible.
The loggers led by the one Varanoide had covered about half the distance when they met
with the other alien. Very quickly, the Red Scale gave an account of what had happened.
‘Rescue come. Shooting. Men four come us help.’ The loggers were not much wiser after
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that report. With two Varanoides to guide them through the nightly forest, they could
move a little faster, though.
The shooting and the uproar in general ceased well before the loggers, led by the two
aliens, reached the camp site formerly controlled by the gangsters. Because they could not
know how the matter stood, which side had won, they slowed down immediately before
they would exit the forest. There, covered by bushes and hidden behind big tree trunks,
they stood for a moment and looked and listened intensely. They wanted to see and hear
if there was any more danger and they wanted to find out which side had won.
What the loggers and the two Varanoides could see, that was the following scene: Ben
Sommer, Tom Grand, Seb Melch, Lentbender, and the youngster were securing the area,
in the middle of which was burning a magnificent bonfire. Over all, it seemed almost like a
wonder that such a big bonfire and the flying firebrands it issued and even more so the
shower of sparks that the shooting had caused did not light up the forest in a huge
wildfire.
Seen all the men belonging to their own side pulling security at the conquered camp, the
remaining loggers and the Varanoides concluded that their own side must have won.
Therefore, they left the forest and came closer. When approaching the fireplace, they
could see a little heap of dead bodies. Out of the twenty gangsters, nine had been thrown
to that heap. One the other side of the bonfire, the newcomers could see several bound
captive villains. Among the captives was their lead, Claybrinck.
‘Amazing’, one logger said when he had gained an overview of the scene. ‘Astounding’,
another one stated. ‘Stupendous’, was the comment that yet one more issued.
‘Fascinating’, marvelled one logger and raise his left eyebrow in amazement. ‘We believed
you in greatest danger but in fact you’re here as the master of the mess, you rule the yard’,
his companions said to Lentbender, who was holding a rifle in his hands and had a piston
in his belt.
‘I was in great danger’, Lentbender rectified the apparent view. ‘I was to be drowned in
the river. The gangster boss wanted to smash my face with a log. In that very moment,
those four gentlemen appeared and delivered me from evil. Great piece of work that was!
You can learn something from them, my dear fellows’, Lentbender reported, extoling his
liberators feat.
Then, the old men pointed to his saviours. ‘Here they are’, he said. ’You can thank them
also for your own rescue, because the gangsters wanted to attack all of us’, Lentbender
declared. ‘We heard them talking. They had evil machinations in mind of all of us’, the old
man gave an account of the villains bad intentions. ‘But think of it’, he returned to the feat
of the successful attack staged by the saviours. ‘Just four men assaulting twenty, killing
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nine and taking captive six, while they did not suffer a single casualty. And the five who
could escape probably also got some hits.’
Because of those five evaders, security had to be maintained. Here was evidence that the
gangsters did not have effective long-distance weapons, just strong short-range and some
medium-range arms, but caution was still required. With so many men around now, some
of the loggers took over the task of pulling security. They kept watch near the hoppers
and around the fireplace.
Ben Sommer and the others of his group had seen the two Varanoides. Seb Melch, who
could speak their language and knew them best, too, was soon engaged in a conversation
with them. They had followed the gangsters through hyperspace all the time while the
other pursuing group had known the villains intended destination and could approach it
on a different route. It had been a tremendously astonishing exploit to follow the
gangsters’ traces through hyperspace and Ben Sommer, one of the very best human best
hyperspace pathfinders expressed his admiration. His praise enjoyed the two Varanoides.
With great modesty, they rejected it, though. ‘With their undisciplined and unskilled
hopper-riding they left turbulences in the hyperspace streams like a bulky ferry’, the
bigger Varanoide detailed. But Ben Sommer knew haw hard following such traces could
be, especially in the bigger streams.
Then, the bigger of the two aliens asked for Claybrinck. ‘Over there he is’, answered Ben
Sommer and pointed to one of the bound captive villains. ‘He received a few grazing shots,
sustained some mild abrasion and got a few strong punched. One to his head knocked him
out. But otherwise he should be fine’, Sommer indicated.
The Varanoide drew a knife. Seb Melch translated what the alien said. ‘He attacked me on
the Ostia. He insulted me in front of my son. He threatened my child. If he did not die
from shots and blows, I will finish him here and now with my knife’, declared the redscaled alien.
‘Stop’, Lentbender shouted in that moment and tried to hold the Varanoide from
implementing his intention. ‘This man’s life does not belong to you but to me!’
The Varanoide turned his attention to Lentbender. ‘You have revenge contra wretch’, the
red-scaled alien hissed. From the pronunciation it wasn’t clear whether it was meant as a
question of a statement. Because the Varanoide could not know, just guess, Lentbender
took it as a question.
‘Great revenge!’, declared the old men, somewhat adapting to the alien’s tongue. ‘This
villain has cruelly killed my wife and my two sons.’
‘You certain’ the Varanoide hissed. The context made it likely that it was meant as a
question. The alien did not like the idea of giving up his revenge. Among the members of
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his race, taking revenge for a severe insult was considered an obligation. Claybrinck had
hit him in front of his son. That very much fitted the description of a severe insult. Back
then, on-board the huge spaceship Ostia, the red-scaled alien could not fight back. If he
killed anyone on-board, or even if he just maimed anyone strongly, he would himself get
into trouble. There were security systems and security robots on such a spaceship. He
could get arrested and even punished severely. So, back then, he had to control himself.
But if he did not want to lose all his reputation among the members of his own race, he
had to take revenge. But then, of course, if Lentbender had a much bigger cause to seek
the death of Claybrinck, brought about with his own hands, it was honourable, even
demanded by honour, to let the old man prevail with his desire and execute the felon.
Therefore, the law of the jungle had condemned Claybrinck and what remained now to
sort out were minor details like the one concerning the executioner.
‘I am certain that it was him’, Lentbender insisted on the integrity of his memory. ‘There is
no error possible. I immediately recognised him. It’s not possible to forget this face’, the
old man defended his position.
‘You kill man’, hissed the Varanoide. Again, the pronunciation left lots of doubt if that was
meant as a question or as a statement.
‘Yes, without clemency and mercy!’ Lentbender stated.
‘Me abstain’, the Varanoide confirmed. ‘You take man life. He owe life you’, concluded
the red-scaled alien. Then he looked at the destined victim about who’s fate they were
just holding their discussion. ‘He owe me honour. Me take double’, the Varanoide
resolved the issue and determined finally what he would do. Then, the Red Scale took a
broken bottle and slashed it against Claybrinck’s head twice, once from each side and
both times with a certain movement that cut of the ears of the gangster boss.
Claybrinck shouted of pain. Blood ran over his face and over both sides of his neck. The
gangster boss had never shown mercy on anyone and did much worse to people who had
never hurt him at all. Now, when he was the victim and not even an innocent victim but
one who had provoked the revenge with reckless und aggressive behaviour, he cried like a
baby who felt just pain and injustice.
The Varanoide turned around and looked at the crowd. ‘Anyone else score settle’, he
uttered loudly. Nobody else had a score to settle with Claybrinck, though. The gangsters
had wanted to raid the loggers and therefore they had an issue with the villains but
Lentbender was determined to take revenge anyway, so that issue would soon be
resolved. Many felt that it was better that they had no hand in what was to come, even
though it might benefit their own interests, too. Once that gangster boss was dead, they’d
probably live under much less of a threat.
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In the meantime, Claybrinck had recovered from his pain enough that he could complain
and plead in understandable articulated words. ‘What did I do to you that you allow this
wild alien to mutilate my head so badly?’ he asked with an accusing voice.
‘What you have done to me, we will settle soon’, Lentbender promised in return. His voice
was quivering with hate and pain together. Every moment since his eyes fell on that
gangster’s face, the memory of his this man had killed is innocent family ranted in his
mind, burned away feelings of mercy with a fellow human. The desire to take revenge
raged in him. Both combined to an emotional distress that was hardly bearable.
Lentbender was feeling as if he had to roar like a lion and cry like a little child at the same
time. Tears were running over his cheeks and the fire of utmost hatred rushed and pulsed
through his veins.
‘If we others also have some issue with you, we will soon know’, Ben Sommer now said.
‘We will search your pockets and bags and hoppers and see what all we can find’, he
decided.
The Varanoide directed some words to Seb Melch. ‘The hoppers are stolen from the Arru
tribe’, translated Melch.
‘You trust him?’, Claybrinck protested, pointing toward the Varanoide with his glance.
‘You’re done for anyway because of the murder you committed’, Tom Grand reprimanded
the gangster boss. ‘And you wanted to kill us, my fellow loggers and me, so you’re done
for double. If you’re done for thrice doesn’t matter for you anymore. You’ll be dead after
the first execution. We just want to know what other crimes you committed and whom
else you have done harm’, Grand justified his views and actions.
With these words, Seb Melch, who appeared to be an experienced criminalist, started
with the search. He gave advice to Tom Grand how to help him best with that task. Soon,
much evidence was found that Claybrinck and his gang had committed many other crimes.
It was obvious that the hoppers did not belong to them because typical marks of
Varanoide ownership were found. Inside the hoppers and among the bags of the villains,
many more items that were looted, robbed, stolen, the one or other way taken from their
rightful owners buy force or whatever else perfidiousness were found. The loggers
became ever more certain that this Claybrinck was a terrible creature, dangerous and
malicious and was best neutralised before he could do more harm to more victims.
The Varanoide saw all that and was confident that the humans would take care of this
villain according to the law of the jungle. He signalled Ben Sommer, Seb Melch, Tom
Grand, and Lentbender that he wanted to say something to them. When they all had
joined and stood closer to each other so that they could talk without having to shout, the
red-scaled alien bade farewell to the others. He explained that he had already lost too
much time with the pursuit of Claybrinck and that he needed to get to his people. Who
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and where those people of his might be, he did not detail. Then, he just turned around
and started moving toward the camp of the loggers. The Varanoides had left their hoppers
not far from there.
For the remaining men, several questions were to be answered. What to do with the
death was one such issue. After a short discussion, it was determined that the dead
bodies were simply to be thrown into the river. Nobody wanted to spend time and energy
on digging graves for them. The river, on the other hand, must at times also carry dead
local beings. Therefore, the nature of this planet should have the capacity to recycle that
organic matter. Concerning the captives it was soon agreed on kind of drumhead courtmartial; just in a private setting, though.
Some people also feared that the escaped gangsters could still cause trouble. Others
believed, though, that there were too few villains to give them much inconvenience.
Those more optimistic folks thought that the gangsters had run away as fast and as far as
they could and would not stop fleeing so soon. In no case they would want to bother a
much superior force again, thought these confident men. Still, sentinels were determined
to continue keeping a watch all the time. To make sure that the villains would not stumble
over the hoppers of Ben Sommer, Seb Melch, Tom Grand, and Duref, they soon went to
collect their means of conveyance. They asked four loggers to chauffeur them and took
four of the gangsters’ hoppers, who anyway had stolen these vehicles from the Varanoide
Arru tribe. Then they flew to the location where they had left their own hoppers and came
back with them to the camp near the river.
Claybrinck was bound and had been put to lay on the ground near to the other captives of
his gang. He whines of pain but nobody was there to console him.
Then the improvised private drumhead court-martial started. In other circumstances, it
might likewise be called a lynching court. But then, what was law and what was
jurisdiction? When law had to be democratically decided to be valid and justified, then the
majority of the current inhabitants of planet Naditira just had decided on laws and their
application. That improvised legal proceeding followed the same standards that were
applied in any such situation. Naditira was not, to anyone’s knowledge claimed by any
state. Therefore, no other law was applicable here. The law of Naditira was whatever the
majority of the planets residents decided it to be. If that was the tyranny of the majority,
the law of the jungle, the force of the superior, or the justice of the winners, remained a
futile question. In such cases, people were usually guided by a kind of common sense of
justice.
At first, the winners of the struggle convened to sit in judgement over the losers, who
were those bound and captive gang members who had survived. Those had to face the
charges. It turned out that there weren’t too many charges that they actually had to face.
They remained silent to their other crimes that they may or may not have committed
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during their lives. When it came to their crimes starting from the incidents on the mighty
spaceship Ostia to the ruckus on the planet Naditira, not much could be brought forward
against them that was easily substantiated with proof and evidence. They had stolen a
lifeboat from the Ostia and they had stolen hoppers from the Arru tribe of the Varanoides.
Neither any of the Arru Varanoides nor anyone from the Ostia was present to bring
forward any claims, though. The other two red-scaled aliens who could have spoken for
their compatriots had already disappeared. The men present hesitated to condemn the
captive gangsters to death for those thefts. There was no prison and nobody would have
wanted to build one for the villains; and then guard it for the term of then sentence.
Maiming was considered to barbaric and below the dignity of those men present.
Therefore, the choice was between death and freedom. With the crimes that could be
proven not severe enough to warrant death in the eyes of the judging community, there
would be no other choice but to grant the surviving captives freedom.
In that makeshift, ad-hoc, improvised drumhead court-martial it was ultimately it was
decided to release the captives; though later. They would have to remain bound for this
night and then the next day they were to be released. All their possessions, little of which
they actually possessed rightfully anyway, were deemed forfeited; including their hoppers
and whatever else they had brought to Naditira. The next day, the gangsters were to be
released into freedom with what they wore directly on their bodies. The planet Naditira
would from now on serve as their prison, though a very large prison on which they would
have all freedom thinkable.
After the small perpetrator had been sentenced, in their case to freedom on a free planet
in the free area of the galaxy, it was Claybrinck’s turn to be judged and sentenced. The
gangster boss had been kept at some place on the one side of the camping ground, where
the bright flames of the fire had somehow not shown his face so well. Now, when two
loggers lifted him up and dragged him closer to the bonfire, that was still burning brightly,
Duref looked straight into his face from close by and gave a stunned sound. Duref then
turned to Seb Melch and exclaimed: ‘It’s him. He’s the murderer. I recognise him. We got
him now!’ For whatever reason, Duref had not seen Claybrinck close up all the time.
Seb Melch asked a few questions to make sure that Duref was really certain. The
youngster, though, remained steadfast and reassured the certainty of him recognising the
villain with each and every question.
‘Why didn’t you recognise him already on the Nellie Fortier?’ Seb Melch wanted to know.
‘We’ve all been together there!’
‘I didn’t see him there’, replied the youngster. ‘I have seen some of the others guys from
walking past them. I must have missed out their boss, accidentally’, Duref declared.
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‘That could well be’, Seb Melch admitted. ‘Now, there is just one more question’, he
proceeded with his enquiry. ‘You described the perpetrator as having black and curly hair.
But this one here has red and straight hair!’
The youngster stepped back yet another and did not answer immediately. He put his hand
to his forehead, shook his head, took yet one more step back and said, in a tone of audible
uncertainty: ‘That's true, of course! His face is very much the same, a spitting image; but
the hair is completely different.’
‘It might be a matter of confusion, Duref’, Seb Melch conjectured. ‘People look alike; but
curly black hair and straight red hair make a striking difference.’
‘A difference that any coiffeur can bring about in just close to no time’, Lentbender
interrupted.
‘So he might be the fellow whom we’re looking for’, Seb Melch pondered loudly, looking
at Duref and then back to Claybrinck and then again to Duref. ‘Having cut of the fellow’s
ears doesn’t make recognition easier, does it?’ he deliberated. ‘We should have asked the
Varanoide to wait for some time’, Melch concluded.
‘Why that?’ Lentbender intervened again. ‘I did not let myself be fooled by the red hair.
This is the man whom I have been looking for. I hunted him for many years. He is the
murderer of my wife and my children. When this villain killed my innocent sons and my
lovely with utmost brutality, he had black, curly hair and now he had red, straight hair but
he’s still the same gangster. He speaks with the same voice and moves the same way and
he has the same face. So, I’, absolutely certain that he’s the man I’m looking for.
While Lentbender and Seb Melch were discussing the true identity of the captive gangster
boss and Duref was looking slightly bewildered and confused from one to the other and
back, the facial expression of Claybrinck changed somewhat. His eyes were clued to the
lips of the two men who were discussing his identity. Earlier, Claybrinck had looked fairly
disconsolate, as he was assuming to be literally looking into a very short and very grim
future that was to come to a violent end soon. Now, the expression of his face was very
different; much calmer. Nobody cared about it, though, because everybody was busy with
either discussing the true identity of the gangster boss of was busy watching those who
did. The sentinels who were to pull security at the perimeter of the camp were looking
outward and did not get to remark the change either.
Instead of being humble and fearful and begging for mercy, Claybrinck then started
making accusations. The face of Claybrinck had twisted into a sneer, and he cried, in a
tone of boundless hatred: ‘Well, you liar and slanderer, who am I really? Do you really
remember me or just somebody who could possibly look a little bit like me? It is easy but
very wrong to accuse a man just because of a similarity he has with another. Give
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evidence that I'm the one for whom you want to portray me! Or do you just want to kill
anyone without taking care who he really is, just to satisfy your desire for revenge?’
The old man Lentbender alternatingly looked from one to the other, sometimes on
Claybrinck, sometimes on Ben Sommer, then again to Seb Melch who seemed to have
some criminalistics understanding of such matters. Then he said helplessly to the
assembled gentlemen: ‘Please tell me, sirs, what do you think of it? The one whom I think
of was really black-haired and curly; but this is quite red-haired and straight. And yet I will
swear thousand oaths that he is the murderer. My eyes and ears can impossibly deceive
me that much.’
‘You could still wrong you,’ replied Ben Melch. ‘It seems that there is a similarity, which
could deceive you here.’
‘Then I should not dare to trust my good old eyes anymore’, Lentbender conceded in
confusion. He was sure that Claybrinck was the murderer of his family but he did not want
to kill the man before he succeeded in convincing the others that the fellow deserved
death. If he killed the gangster boss just like this, the other men would consider him a
murderer. Even if they would not act upon it and rather think of his revenge as bad
judgement or a doubtful action, that would hurt the old man. He certainly did not want to
be looked upon as a bad person. Therefore, he hesitated. He did not know what more to
do to convince the general assembly convened here of the villain’s identity and guilt.
‘Do it for better!’ Claybrinck scoffed. ‘The devil may take me if I knew something about
that story of yours that somewhere somebody murdered a mother with two sons or, as
you say, may have even tortured them to death!’
‘But you know me’, Lentbender insisted. ‘You have told me so just some time ago this
evening!’
‘Do I have to be the man you believe me to be just because I saw you once before?’
Claybrinck answered with a question. ‘Even the boy mistakes me here entirely. But the
man you have spoken about seems to be the very same man the boy mentioned. But as I
do not know the boy, I can’t be the man you’re all hunting for’, he concluded.
Then, Claybrinck stopped suddenly talking and moving, as if he was a bit shocked or
surprised by something, but recovered immediately and continued to swagger in the same
tone: ‘And I have never seen him, neither that boy who had mistaken me for somebody
else nor that man whom you are all talking about. Now, if you have complaints about me,
bring them on. Have this judgement about me but bring evidence first. If you want to
judge me because of an accidental similarity and execute me for it, then you are just
another killer. Plainly killing an innocent person without even the slightest little bit of
evidence, not to mention solid proof, that would hint to such a severe guilt that a man has
to die is nothing that honourable people are doing. I am trusting in the decency and hour
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of all those men present and I am expecting proper proceedings and a proper handling of
the case.’
That Claybrinck had experienced a sudden surprise that had interrupted his flow of
thoughts and words had a very good reason. He had been put there, where the bodies lay;
he lay with his head on one of them. When Claybrinck had been moved just recently so
that the light of the fire would illuminate his face better, the body he had to lean on had
moved a little; kind of rolled a couple of centimetres. It had been a very small movement
and not unusual as the rigor mortis could not yet have set in. Now, that body was right
behind Claybrinck; in the shade cast by his back and facing the darkness of the nightly
forest. But this body was not dead. The man was not even severely wounded. Some
grazing shot or airborne debris or whatever had knocked him out and the blood of his
comrades had spilled over them. That was the effect of shooting with high-powered,
super-sonic projectiles that they caused a lot of severe destruction in any human tissue
that they hit. When blood and tissue, bones and skin and all was bring torn apart and
thrust around, it could happen that somebody got abundantly soiled by it. If that person
was motionless, because of either a great capacity to pretend or because of being knocked
out, the body could look thoroughly dead to the layman. However it had come about, that
one gangster had looked dead but wasn’t in fact dead; far from it, he was quite well.
When the seemingly dead gangster regained consciousness, he found himself among the
dead bodies of his companions. It was the time when the loggers just emptied the pockets
of the dead to search for evidence of crimes and for useful things, too. Such needful items
as the weapons that the villains had were removed.
The gangster who had been taken for dead would initially have liked to jump up and flee,
but then he thought otherwise. Even though he counted only four enemies, the possible
escape routes were not very promising. He did not want to jump into the river a she could
neither swim very well nor dive very long. From the other side he heard the loggers
approach the camp site. That's why he decided to wait for the right moment. He drew his
knife and secretly hid it in the sleeve of his coat. Then Lentbender came to him and turned
him around, glanced at him and judged he was dead, took from him what was in his
pockets and on the belt, and pulled him to the spot where the dead bodies were to be
kept for the moment.
From that time onward, the gangster had observed everything carefully with half-closed
eyes. The villain had not been tied up because he was assumed to be dead anyway and
could therefore jump up and run away at the appropriate moment. Then, when the
loggers put Claybrinck on him, it immediately occurred to him, that he could also free his
boss. When Claybrinck was moved to sight more straight by the loggers, the supposedly
dead body rolled a bit, as if moved un-intentionally. Thus, the gangster who feigned death
came to lay behind Claybrinck; in the shade of his boss and with his hands hidden from
the loggers view by Claybrinck’s still living body. He found that the hands of his boss were
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tied together and chose to take care of that issue first. During Claybrinck’s loud speech,
while all attention was on the gangster boss, the villain who had feigned death drew his
knife from his sleeve and cut with gentle motions the shackles with which his boss was
bound. Then he shoved the knife’s handle toward Claybrinck’s right hand so that his boss
could with a quick movement get rid of the rope binding his feet together and jump up
suddenly and escape. Claybrinck had naturally felt the secret liberation of his hands; he
felt the knife handle, which he took at once, being quite clear-minded. Only for a little he
had been so surprised that he lost thought of his speech for an instant and paused in his
defensive plea, but only for a moment; then he went on, and no one else knew what had
happened behind the back of the accused.
While the others were still discussing the true identity of the gangster boss, Ben Sommer
had a closer look at the man’s belongings. He poured out the content of a bang that had
been found in one of the hoppers onto the ground near the fireplace. There was enough
light to see all things clearly there. The big bonfire was still burning high and bright and
shed light on the issue.
Ben Sommer grabbed one plastic bottle and held it up. ‘Hair dye’, he said.
‘So what?’ Claybrinck shouted. ‘You found hair dye in a bag. You found the bag in a
hopper. What proves that this was my bag? What proves that this was my hair dye? Why
do you think that I used that hopper? Why do you think that this was my bag? Why do you
think that this was my hair dye?’
Ben Sommer looked sternly at the accused gangster. ‘Because a man who is being
prosecuted for serious crimes will certainly be glad to dye his hair in red if he can save his
life with it. Not being recognised that easily with straight red hair instead of the original
curly black looks like a good motive, does it not? I am now even more convinced that you
are the wanted murderer. We will examine your head and your hair exactly and the truth
will come to light if it is dyed or not.’
Duref had stood up from his place and came closer to the others again. He had remained
alone for some time, sitting on some tree trunk that was lying around and staring into the
fire. Now, he had something to say again. ‘We do not need to wait for that long’, Fred
interrupted Claybrinck who was accusing everybody of making a severe error again. ‘There
is yet another sign of recognition. When he robbed our house and murdered my people
there, he also attacked me. He threw me to the ground and kicked me and stepped on me
hard because he could not shoot. He had run out of ammunition or his gun was jamming
or whatever. In that moment, I stabbed him with a big kitchen knife in the calf. The knife
penetrated the calf, going in on one side and sticking out on the other side. It was big and
had gone deep into the calf so that the knife got stuck there. It must have been a sizeable
wound and it should have left recognizable scars on both side of the calf. He may expose
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his lower leg.’ With these words Duref pointed to the leg he meant to be exposed. ‘If he is
the right man, which now I do not doubt anymore, the two scars should be there.’
Nothing could have been more welcome to Claybrinck than this proposal. If it was
undertaken to examine his calf, he did not have to cut the cords himself, that were
holding his ankles together. Cutting these with the knife that he had received from the
feigning-death gangster behind his back would take time; valuable time for him, because
his keepers could jump at him during those seconds. The ropes that were wrapped around
his ankles seemed solid and he did not know how long it would actually take to cut them.
He did not know how sharp the knife was that he had in his hand behind his back either.
Cutting the rope that had bound his wrists together had taken a little while. So, the same
might be due for the one holding his ankles.
Claybrinck lowered his head as if he was resigning into his fate. Actually, he just wanted
his eyes to be out of the others’ view. He looked left and right and what he saw made him
rejoice internally. There was a thick fogbank not far from the camp site. The fog had
formed over the big river and was extending along the little creek that ran past the camp
site. The fog was very dense and it stood there almost like a wall.
Everything was now to Claybrinck’s gusto. Therefore he quickly replied to Duref: ‘Very
well, my very clever boy. In this crystal clear case, you will undoubtedly convince yourself
that you are all wrong. With your admitted great cleverness I still have to wonder that you
can ask me to lover my pants. To a man to whom both hands and legs are tied up, that's
probably impossible, don’t you think?’
Duref felt indignation because of the sarcastic tone that the earless bandit boss applied.
Striking a sour note didn’t go down well with the youngster who’s people that criminal
had murdered. It went all right for Claybrinck, though, who achieved what he wanted.
‘I know that well’, Duref gave back sharply. ‘That’s why I will take care of that!’. The zeal
to identify that hated murderer without any doubt drove the youngster toward the
prisoner whom he believed to be well-bound. Duref knelt down beside Claybrinck and
fiddled with the rope, which was bound around the ankles of the villain’s legs. When rope
was cut open, Duref wanted to strip off the trouser leg. He put his knife aside and reached
there with his hands. But instead of coming to see the truth, received such a blow with
both feet of the villain that he flew away and it became black in front of his eyes. The next
moment the gangster jumped onto his feet. He had grabbed the youngster’s knife, too,
and escaped with a few steps, wielding both knifes on the way.
With few steps Claybrinck had escaped into the fogbank. Ben Sommer would have almost
caught him, despite the surprise flight, because he possessed such a great readiness of
mind that hardly anything ever surprised him for any significant time span. It was in such a
short moment, indiscernible to others, that Ben Sommer was already up on his feet, too,
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after Claybrinck kicked Duref to the head, that he almost would have recaptured the
fleeing villain within just the first few steps. That would have happened if not Seb Melch
would have had an almost equally short reaction time. Seb Melch had likewise jumped up
and turned to pursue the gangster when he recognised the attempt to escape. Because
Melch was closer to Claybrinck, jumping up he just bumped into Sommer with all his
body’s force. Sommer himself had already gained good momentum and the crash was
strong. They both could not help falling to the ground and that moment of hullabaloo
helped Claybrinck succeed in his eloping. Seb and Ben immediately jumped up from the
ground again but the fogbank had already swallowed the villain, as if there had never
been any such man as that villain Claybrinck around.
Still, Seb Melch and Ben Sommer and many of the others were ready to try to follow the
fleeing gangster. After all, he was leaving traces like footsteps and other marks when he
was moving at night through dense vegetation. Yet, they were impeded in their
immediate pursuit of Claybrinck by the urgent necessity to catch yet another villain. It was
the gangster who had been deemed to be dead who, like his leader just moments ago,
jumped up to his feet and started running. He thought that the time had come for his own
escape as it seemed that everybody else was preoccupied with the flight of Claybrinck. But
he was wrong. He could just make a couple of steps before Ben Sommer had grabbed him.
Full of anger about a second attempted escape, Sommer lifted the villain up and threw
him hard to the ground, where the fellow remained, shaken by the hard landing and
stripped of confidence by Ben’s swift reaction.
The whole action was a waste on both sides. All the villains other than their leader had
been sentenced to freedom, albeit on planet Naditira and subject to seizure of all their
belongings, and were due to be released anyway on the next morning. The same fate
would most likely have awaited the fellow who was just so foolish to try running away to
antedate his freedom by a few hours. Therefore, it was entirely useless for him to try
escaping and it was equally entirely useless for Sommer to hold him up. All had just
happened out of mindless action and reaction. The gangster was so conditioned to run
away and Sommer had likewise just reacted instinctively. The whole incident led to
Claybrinck gaining an even larger advance, though. It was in principle still possible to
follow his traces but especially in the night, the hunters were at a disadvantage over the
hunted. With night vision colour sight was not available. The night vision devices had
green or red screens, but no polychrome monitors. Using torches would tell the prey
exactly where the hunters were and would render the exercise futile.
Lentbender uttered his regret that Claybrinck could escape. ‘What a pity that the main
villain could run away’, he lamented.
‘That’s actually due to your inattentiveness’, Sommer scolded the old man. It wasn’t
particularly nice to objurgate Lentbender in this situation. After all, the cruel murdered of
his family had just escaped the revenge that was due. Yet, Ben was a man who stuck to
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facts and acted upon them; most of the time. He himself wasn’t happy about the seconds
that he had lost by catching hold of the other fugitive villain. He could have let this guy
run and follow Claybrinck instead. There had been a little chance that he could have
caught the gangster boss somewhere in the fogbank or nearby in the jungle. Even a
barrage of fire from all their guns might have done the trick. Anyway, now, it was too late
to do anything about it.
‘Why is it my fault?’ Lentbender asked with a mixture of shame, indignation, and
repentance in his voice. ‘I do not understand’, he said with some audible confusion,
though he already had a terrible suspicion. ‘Your word in great honour, sir, but would you
like to explain it to me?’
‘It's very easy to explain’, Ben Sommer replied. ‘Who had examined the gangster who
then subsequently became alive again?’
‘I Certainly’, admitted the old man.
‘You took him for dead’, Ben stated. ‘How can that happen to such an experienced logger
and adventurer as you are?’ Sommer asked. ‘And who has emptied his pockets and
removed the weapons?’, he continued to enquire.
‘I as well’, confirmed Lentbender.
‘But you left the knife with him’, Ben chastised.
‘He had none at all’, the old man defended himself.
‘He had just hidden it’, Sommer contradicted him. ‘Then, Claybrinck was put right there, in
front of that one fellow, who thus was covered by his leader. The guy continued to play
dead. He was behind Claybrinck and has not only cut the rope that had bound the hands
of that villain, but also gave him the knife’, Ben deduced.
‘Should that really be so, sir?’ the old man asked.
‘Ask him yourself’, Sommer replied.
conclusion.’
‘Because it is so, you will come to the same
‘And, by the way, this formerly dead fellow should be bound well lest he causes more
trouble over the night’, Sommer portended, pointing to the gangster whom had had
caught hold of, lifted up high and thrown down on the ground hard. That one was again
showing signs of life, as he recovered from his ungentle landing.
Lentbender did as he was told and this time he took care to do his job very well. Then,
once the villain was solidly tied up, the old man turned into a seeker after the truth again.
For that purpose, Lentbender first gave the now well-bound fellow a kick and then forced
him by threats to give answers. The old man learned that everything had been precisely as
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Ben Sommer had suspected. Then, Lentbender grabbed his head with both hands and
drove his fingers through his long, grey hair, rummaged around and said angrily with
aggravated irritation: ‘I could slap myself. Such a stupidity rarely occurred in our whole
galaxy. It's my fault that the murderer escaped. I'm all alone at fault! And I would bet my
life that he was the one for whom I held him.’
‘Of course he was the man you believed him to be’, Ben Sommer confirmed. ‘Else, he
would have waited for the investigation of his leg to indicate his innocence. The absence
of the two scars would not have proven much, as scars can be operated away surgically,
but the presence of the scars would have made it fairly clear that he was the killer. Such
coincidences like the same face and the same scars would be too big to appear probable.
Therefore, it is clear that the fellow feared discovery.’
Just when Sommer said so, Seb Melch came back to the fireplace. He had tried to follow
the fugitive gangster for some time but had finally given up the chase. It was apparent
that Melch was disappointed and a bit despondent, too.
Sommer, Melch, Grant, Lentbender as the senior most man among the loggers, and the
youngster as a major party harbouring a grievance against Claybrinck came together to
discuss the further proceedings. Duref and Lentbender were now absolutely certain that
the escaped gangster boss was the murdered that they had hunted for and they found
that the others now all believed them, too. The course of events had provided them with
sufficient evidence to persuade anyone. There was no doubt anymore that could be
interpreted as working in favour of the accused. The man was guilty beyond suspicion.
Duref and Seb Melch were determined to follow and hunt down Claybrinck as soon as the
next morning’s light allowed for it. Lentbender wanted to do the same. For Tom Grand, it
wasn’t a matter of revenge. The threat posed by the diminished number of fugitive villains,
when compared to their full strength before the violent encounter, was much reduced.
Yet, he also offered his help to trace down, find, and bring to justice the fellow who had
planned to much bad for him and who had done so much of infamous turpitudes to his
new friends. Ben Sommer also wanted to take care that Claybrinck was rendered harmless.
Roaming around on planet Naditira it wasn’t impossible that he would sooner or later find
a way to escape. Naditira was rarely visited and very sparsely populated but still, people
came here at times and the number of visitors might grow over time. Claybrinck could rob
a hopper from one of these or talk somebody into helping him get away from Naditira.
Because Claybrinck knew the coordinates of a place holding great wealth for Ben Sommer,
which should remain secret, the gangster remained a threat for him, too.
Thus, it was decided that all five, Sommer, Melch, Grant, Lentbender, and Duref, would
set out for hunting down Claybrinck with sunrise.
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When this was concluded, something else came to Ben Sommer’s mind. ‘We need to go up
to your loggers’ camp’, he said to Lentbender.
‘Why’ the old man answered with a question. ‘Why shouldn’t we stay here till the
morning?’
‘Because your property is endangered’, Ben responded. ‘Claybrinck is at large and he is
capable of anything. He knows that we are down here, and can very easily get the idea to
visit the loggers’ camp’, Sommer explained.
‘Damn it!’ Lentbender cursed. ‘That would be disastrous! We have our tools and reserve
weapons in the blockhouse and our hoppers in the garage there and also other supplies.
Quick, we must go!’, the old man hurried the others, now, that he understood what was
at stake.
‘Very well’, Ben concluded. ‘You take a couple of armed people from you team with you
and go first. You can take some of the hoppers here. Now, we don’t have to be concerned
about attention and we can freely use them’, Sommer said to Lentbender. ‘We others will
load the stuff here into the remaining hoppers and get to your camp by air.
‘Could the escaped gangsters shoot us down?’ Lentbender worried upon Ben’s request.
The old man’s sorrow was well-founded because space hoppers were peace vessels. They
had no weapons on the outside. Therefore, anyone flying in a hopper was helpless when
fired at. That’s also why the loggers had not taken the three hoppers that they had at
their disposal when they came to the rescue of their friend Lentbender.
‘The gangsters only had those weapons that they stole together with the hoppers from
the Arru tribe Varanoides’, Sommer replied. ‘We haven’t seen the villains escaping from
our assault with long-range weapons, did we?’ Ben looked around. He addressed Seb
Melch personally with the long look into the man’s face. Seb Melch seems to be some
kind of criminalist or detective or at least somebody with experience in those matters.
Therefore, Sommer hoped that Melch could give a definitive answer.
‘Not to my knowledge’, Seb answered. To make sure, he turned toward the loggers and
asked them the same question: ‘Has anyone seen any of the gangsters run away with a
long-range weapon?’ As nobody replied to the positive, the question was answered
satisfactorily. ‘It seems they just had their pistols and some other short-range guns’,
Melch told Sommer, as the tall, broad man had addressed him personally.
‘Then we can use the hoppers without much danger’, Ben concluded. ‘Do you have rifles
in your camp?’ he wanted to know from Lentbender.
‘We have some spare rifles up there’, the old man confirmed.
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‘Then we should hurry up’, Sommer urged the group. ‘We better don’t wait till the villains
can get to your camp and loot the weapons there!’
Immediately after Ben had spoken these words, Lentbender and Tom Grant went to
inform all the loggers to organise the transfer. Some of the loggers were pulling security
around the perimeter of the camp and others were exhausted and had remained near the
big bonfire, where some of them had even fallen asleep already. It was late in the night
and the loggers had worked all day long, from sunrise to sunset. They were of course
exhausted and their need for recreation had been stronger than the excitement from the
shooting and all else that had happened.
In the meantime, Claybrinck did exactly what Ben Sommer feared. Once the gangster boss
had realised that he successfully escaped the immediate danger with his jump into the
fogbank, his mind was already scheming what to do next. He had a quick mind. That
helped him with his life as a criminal. His excessive brutality at times was an asset and at
times was a burden, causing him often more trouble than good. At other occasions, being
extremely brutal had helped him. His lack of self-control when under the influence of
alcohol was definitively a disadvantage but he just could not stop himself from drinking
that booze. But now and here, he wasn’t intoxicated. His ears were missing, he had lost
some blood, his head was hurting and his hands and feet were still not feeling good again
after being bound for some time. They had bound him hard, these loggers!
Claybrinck had run through the fogbank as if he had on the race track of a school sports
ground. It was dark anyway and the fog added to that low visibility. Just a few metres
after the camp site from where Claybrinck had escaped, that visibility was so bad that he
could not see the fingers of his hand when the arm was stretched out. The big bonfire
seemed to keep the fig away; or maybe some other reason. Whatever it had been that
kept the camp site itself fog-free, out here, where Claybrinck was now, the fog was very
dense. Despite seeing nothing, the gangster had run for at least fifty meters. He had
changed his direction thrice to make it hard for pursuers to follow him. Running just
straight wasn’t a great idea. People could just shoot into the fogbank and take him down.
It was a wonder that he did not run head-on against some tree or fall into some ditch,
stumble over some root or got pierced up by some old branch that was lying around.
When his heart was hammering so strong that he felt ever pulse like a hammer’s slash in
his head and his body was burning from lack of oxygen, Claybrinck slowed down. He had
to force himself to breathe silently, though that was damn hard to do, as his body was
screaming for air. He went down and kept his mouth close to the ground to minimize the
sound of his breathing. He held a sleeve of his coat in front of his mouth to further reduce
the treacherous noise. He still almost lost conscience, just because of slowing down his
respiration a little.
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When his oxygen deficit had reduced to a level where Claybrinck could again think halfway decently, he realised that nobody was following him. What luck, he thought, that the
Varanoides had already gone. The ears of those aliens were so sharp that they would most
likely have found him despite the darkness and the fog.
Claybrinck stood up and listened around. Nothing conspicuous came from any direction.
No footsteps were to be heard and no people giving each other signals about their
location. If they had formed a chain to comb through the forest, they would try to stay
connected with each other and make a lot of noise like in a battue. For whatever reason,
the loggers and those strangers mad at him had given up hunting him, Claybrinck realised.
So, not it was upon him again to determine the next steps of his actions. He wasn’t the
driven victim anymore; he was no driving the course of events again.
Naditira was a lonely word and one where a man needed certain equipment to survive.
His own possessions other than what he had directly on his body were lost. Therefore, he
needed something else. The loggers and those strangers were at his camp. Thus, the
logical conclusion was to go to their camp. If he was lucky, there would not be any
sentinels at the loggers’ own camp, Claybrinck calculated. The camp was up-hill, in a
depression on the flank of the foothills to the big mountain range in the back. He had to
direct his steps toward higher ground, away from the river. Then, for anything else but
ascending, he would have to trust his luck and try finding the loggers’ camp site despite
the pitch-black darkness and the fog.
Claybrinck thus walked upward. He had found along stick and moved it like the white cane
of a blind. After about a quarter of an hour had passed, he came up high enough to leave
the fog again. Apparently, that night’s ground fog prevailed only closer to the valley
bottom. It was still dark in the forest but not as hopelessly dark as inside the fogbank. The
moon of Naditira shone and despite the high, thick trees with their luxurious crowns some
little light reached into the forest to recognise trunks, for example. Therefore, Claybrinck
could move a little faster. He still had to cautiously set his steps in order not to fall into
any pit that may be there, yet he could increase is speed markedly.
Better vision for himself meant also that Claybrinck could be spotted more easily, too.
Some pursuer with night vision goggles could find him rather easily. To his luck, the
people who had both reason and means to hunt him had no idea how far the fog would
reach and they had not bothered to find it out. Actually, they hadn’t even thought of it
that the fog might end somewhere and that they could then find the escaped gangster
boss easily with their night vision devices.
Claybrinck soon realised that he had accidentally taken the right course to reach the
loggers’ camp. First blindly running into a fogbank and then stumbling around with a stick
through the forest he had just gone where he wanted to go. ‘What luck!’ he thought. Soon,
he reached the loggers’ camp. He recognized it from his previous visit. With due
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precautious he warily went closer. Some loggers could have remained as sentinels or they
could already have come back again. After listening and looking for any sign of life in the
camp diligently, Claybrinck found that there appeared no sign of life that pointed to any
danger for him. Thus, he skulked silently to the blockhouse here the loggers had set up
their temporary abode. There he might find goods and equipment that could hopefully
help him survive Naditira.
When Claybrinck had reached the door of the blockhouse, he again stopped for a short
while. Reminded every single moment by his hurting head and the missing ears causing
that pain how advantageous caution was, he wanted to assure himself that there was
nobody around who could cause him more trouble. As he did not realise anyone, he
fingered for the door handle. He remembered it to be a primitive construction; simple but
effective in keeping the door closed, keeping wind and wild animals out. The simple,
stone-age type lever wasn’t meant to bar a veritable gangster boss from entering that
blockhouse, though.
But in the very same moment that Claybrinck had started pushing the door open, he was
himself pushed to the ground. It must be several men who assaulted him because he
could feel many more hands and feet than would belong to a single fellow. If he had not
become prey for some multi-limbed alien, at least two, possibly three fellows were
attacking him, he reckoned. Something was pressed on his mouth and the hands holding
his head down of course also touched the wounds that were where his ears belonged.
That pain from these hands crabbing strongly right onto his wounds added to the
discomfort that the punches and kicks caused. Claybrinck felt how hands were groping for
his throat. With all remaining force he pressed his chin against his chest to make
strangulation more difficult for the attackers; and prevent it for himself.
Then, Claybrinck heard one of his attackers say: ‘There we at least have one of them.
Since we have only this one, he should pay for it all with his life!’ The gangster boss
recognized the voice. It belonged to one of his bandits.
In his desperation not to get killed by his own men, Claybrinck made a tremendous effort
to free his throat and mouth from their hands and managed to produce some words:
‘Timberguard, you devil, let go!’
Timberguard was a kind lieutenant for Claybrinck among his gang. Timberguard
recognised the voice of his master, immediately loosened his grip, pushed and ordered
the others to do the same and then answered: ‘The colonel! Really, it’s the colonel!’ he
rejoiced. ‘Where do you come from?’ Timberguard asked then. ‘We believed you to be
captive.’
Claybrinck took a few deep breaths and recovered from the intense pain that the rough
treatment doled out by his own comrades had caused him. ‘I was captive’, he then
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confirmed. Then he slowly stood up. He felt with his hands above him if there was
anything as he did not want to bang his maltreated head against yet something more. He
felt that his nose was bleeding; and it was aching, too. He had received several strong
blows into his face and his nose had served as bumper.
‘I escaped’, Claybrinck then told his subordinate gangsters. ‘But couldn’t you have been a
bit more cautious?’ he complained. ‘You almost killed me with your fists!’
‘You can actually be glad that we didn’t kill you with our knifes or shot you with our
pistols’, Timberguard replied. ‘We believed you to be one of the loggers or one of those
other guys and wanted to take revenge for what they did to us.’
‘Good idea but wrong victim’, Claybrinck remarked. ‘Well-meant is so often the very
opposite of well-done!’ he couldn’t help adding. After all, his body was still hurting
everywhere. ‘And what did you do here?’ he then asked.
‘We met each other quite by chance down there after we got expelled from our own
camp’, Timberguard reported. ‘We were us three guys only. Where the others are, that
we don’t know. We’ve seen that the loggers and these strangers remained at our earlier
fireplace. Then we had the idea to move up here and to play a trick on them’,
Timberguard told his boss.
‘That's right!’ Claybrinck lauded his gangsters. ‘That’s my men!’ he complimented them.
‘Quite the same thought has led me here. I want burn this shack to the ground’, he
declared his intentions. ‘And I wanted to see if there was anything useful for me to be
obtained here’, Claybrinck gave full detail of his entire intentions concerning that camp.
‘We also wanted to burn it down’, Timberguard agreed with his boss, as he always did.
‘But not without having looked into it before, to see what needful bounty the hut
contains’, he demonstrated the similarity of intentions to his leader.
‘So, then let’s have a look!’ Claybrinck prodded his remaining men. ‘Anyone of you still has
some torch or any other source of light?’ he asked. ‘Those rogues too everything that I had
with me. I ran away from captivity with just two knifes that I could grab there.’
‘We do have lights’, Timberguard tried to cheer his boss up. ‘We didn’t get searched and
robbed, after all’, he added.
‘True’, Claybrinck acknowledged. ‘Dou you also have your weapons?’ he wanted to know.
‘All pistols are still with us’, Timberguard reported.
‘And you've carefully convinced yourself that there is no ambush up here?’ Claybrinck
requested to learn. He had made a number of bad experiences during the recent past and
was weary of more such painful and potentially life-threatening incidents.
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‘There is not a single lost soul up here’, Timberguard corroborated with absolute certainty
in his voice. ‘The door is easy to unbolt, as you have experienced yourself, and we were
just about to enter when you came’, he recounted the narration of their most recent reunification.
‘OK, then let’s be quick before the guys down there hit upon the idea to come up again!’
Claybrinck urged for speed.
‘Can’t we learn what happened down there after we were gone?’ some of the other
villains requested to be told.
‘Not now, later, when we have time enough for story-telling’, Claybrinck rejected the
request.
Timberguard pushed open the door again, and they all entered. After he closed the door
behind him, he turned on his little torch and shone around in the interior of the
blockhouse. There were several shelves and racks where the loggers had stored their
needful belongings; tools and reserve weapons and food, too. Some rugged apparel was
also there; as well as sleeping bags and other stuff useful in the wilderness.
Every one of the gangsters took what he wanted and as much as he could carry. Then,
they prepared for their intended malicious arson. Once everything was set up in order to
let the blockhouse burn down easily, the villains left the wooden building. They left the
door open so that air would get in and feed the fire well.
The gangster had accomplished the preparations for their malicious arson effectively.
They were hardly out of the door, when the fire had already taken possession of much of
the dry interior of the blockhouse. Beddings and clothes and then the thin, dry wooden
planks of shelves boards burned first.
‘What to do now, colonel?’ the gangsters asked their boss because that’s what
subordinate villains do when their leader is around.
‘Let’s go!’ Claybrinck replied. ‘We can’t stay here, of course. We just started burning down
their camp. They won’t like it. Despite the fog, they might smell the fire or maybe they’re
coming back here anyway. They don’t have any shack or shed down there at our old camp
site, do they?’
‘But where to go?’ the gangsters wanted to know from their leader.
‘Where we anyway wanted to go’, Claybrinck responded. ‘There is lots of rich bounty
waiting for us to loot it’, he cheered his men up. ‘We’ll go and get it!’ he destined.
‘But how do we go?’ the villains requested to learn from their boss.
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‘You’ve been up here for how long?’ Claybrinck scolded them. ‘Haven’t you seen the other
shack over there?’ he said and pointed to some building on the side. With the fire inside
the one blockhouse burning brightly and flashing over via the open door and the windows
to the outside, the other building was visible now.
What was also visible was how bad Claybrinck looked. His fellow gangsters were shocked
to see their boss as victim of such maltreatment. They had done much worse to other,
innocent people, but whenever such bad fate hit one of their own lot, they felt bad. It
reminded them of all that could happen to themselves if they would ever get caught.
‘It’s a garage’, Claybrinck said. ‘Let’s go and take whatever means of conveyance there
are!’
The villains rushed to the garage, opened it and found three decently looking hoppers and
one that had its bonnet open. One close look confirmed that the fourth hopper could not
be used now; and would probably remain out of use for some more time. The gangsters
soon managed to get the three good hoppers running. Out here, on such a lonely place,
people usually did not take any much precaution to secure their hoppers against theft.
Where there are no thieves, there is no theft. But now, of course, there were thieves and
they had found something valuable to steel.
Of all the remaining gang, Claybrinck was in the worst shape. It was apparent that he’d
better have a rest. Luckily for him, two of the three hoppers had decent passenger seats.
It was quickly decided that Claybrinck would fly as passenger together with his lieutenant
in the same hopper while the other two gang members would each take one. They quickly
loaded all their loot into the hoppers. Then the villains grabbed a few things that were
around in the garage and threw them into the hoppers, too. Then, they prepared for a
second arson, as they wanted to burn down the garage, too.
The gangsters took off just before Lentbender and his advance party were to come back to
their own camp site. Claybrinck and his fellow rogues shot off skyward, leaving back two
wooden buildings set ablaze, a lot of bad memories, and a number of their own
companions who had either been captured or been killed.
Soon, Claybrinck’s group of hoppers reached a position where they could enter into
hyperspace. There was no great choice of different current around Naditira. Timberguard
wanted to choose the most direct route to their next destination. He had an approximate
idea of the coordinates and an approximation of the ways to take for getting there.
Claybrinck told him to steer the other way, though. Timberguard was surprised. ‘Did you
change your mind, colonel’, he asked.
‘We need to be safe en-route’, Claybrinck replied. ‘Our enemies will certainly try to find
out from their captives what our plans are. Once they know our plans, they will follow us.
We’d have them always close up our necks. If we rest somewhere or if we have any
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emergency with the hoppers, we’re lost. We need some good distance between us and
them for our own security. Therefore, we need to go the other way’, he explained his
tactical thoughts to his lieutenant.
‘But that would be a big detour, wouldn’t it?’ Timberguard dissented softly.
‘Not that much’, Claybrinck responded. ‘I have had a look at the hyperspace currents
around here and by tomorrow morning; or in about just a couple of hours, we should
reach a junction where some stream is branching of that will again lead us into the right
direction. That one will later meet with better navigable currents, too.’
Timberguard understood and steered the hopper as directed by his boss. He also signalled
the other two pilots where to go. Soon, they were deep into hyperspace, racing along one
of its currents in their stolen hoppers. The vessels were all older types but still working
well. The loggers had used hoppers that were also from Yamaha. Because of their great
reliability and good performance, Yamaha was the preferred brand among all those who
had to rely on their equipment. Nobody wanted to get stranded just somewhere out there
in the galaxy. Nobody also wanted to lose lots of time because every now and then his
equipment wouldn’t work and he’d have to repair it, get it repaired, or wait for a spare
part. The cost of repairs and spares was also another factor. The less of these was needed,
the cheaper the total cost of ownership remained. For the gangsters fleeing with those
Yamaha hoppers, it was good luck that the loggers had paid heed to quality.
Claybrinck gave some advice how to navigate best in that hyperspace current that they
were going along with. Then he passed out. Pain, exertion, loss of blood, fighting and the
mental ups and downs had taken a toll. Claybrinck was a bad man but he still was a man,
suffering from the same afflictions and ills that befall good men, too. And now, he needed
a rest.
At the same time, the loggers had reached back to their old camp. They were very much
upset to see their blockhouses set ablaze and fitness their property going up in flames.
They were even angrier when they discovered that their three remaining intact hoppers
had been stolen. They cursed and swore to take revenge.
Ben Sommer calmly talked to them: ‘I assumed that Claybrinck will instigate something
like this. Unfortunately, we came too late. But don’t worry too much. I have an offer for
you. If you will accept it, you will gain much more than what you’re just losing here.’
‘How that’, Lentbender asked.
‘I will later give you details’ Sommer responded. ‘Now, we first have to make sure that no
more villains are around here. We know how many we did not catch and we know that
they took three hoppers. Therefore, at least three villains disappeared from here. It could
be more, though. It could also be less. We wouldn’t like to have anyone of them sniping at
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us from the darkness or lay traps for us or do whatever else mischief.’ With these words,
Ben took his own night vision device and distributed two more to the loggers. Seb Melch,
Tom Grand, and Duref also donned their night vision goggles and gave surplus ones to
those loggers who were keenest to search the perimeter of their camp. Seb Melch had
bought more of these gadgets, to have some spare ones for unforeseen cases like this. His
precaution paid off now. Back there on Nosubig Egaso, when they were shopping to
supply themselves with equipment needed for the hunt on the gangsters, Melch had
already considered that it might turn useful to equip the loggers, whom the wanted to
warn against Claybrinck and his gang, with such devices. He couldn’t know that they had
none, but he took that lack into account. He had been right.
After the perimeter of the loggers’ camp had been searched and no other villains were
found, everybody assembled again near its central place. There was nothing to be done
about the blockhouse where the men had lived and about the garage. Luckily, the fire did
not jump over from the burning buildings to the trees. There a lot of flying firebrands but
the trees did not catch fire. The bark of those trees was very resistant to fire and so was
the wood itself, as long as the tree was still standing and the roots were providing it with
sufficient water. As for fighting the fire, the loggers did not have the means. Their own
hoppers were with the gangsters and the villains’ hoppers were not suitable to transport
any significant amount of water up from the river to pour it in the burning buildings.
Yet, in their death, those blockhouses set ablaze by the reckless criminals who could have
caused a huge forest fire with their arson, served a last purpose. They formed the last
campfire that the loggers would have at this place, shed light on it and gave warmth in
this cool night; for it cooled down ever more.
To all those men assembled there on the central place of the old loggers’ camp, Ben
Sommer directed his words. The captive villains were not present, because they had been
brought to some spot at the rim of the camp site and bound there firmly with solid ropes.
‘First, my dear gentlemen, please give me your word of honour that you will not pass on
whatever I will tell you now to anyone else, whether you will accept my offer or not’, Ben
Sommer began with his address. ‘I rely on you all being honourable gentleman on whose
word one may trust’. Everybody attendant firmly gave the solemn promise to keep the
information that would be provided to him by Sommer absolutely confident. After that
ceremonial pledge was conducted, Ben continued with his speech. ‘Has anyone of you
ever heard about a place called Tasik Perak, deep into that region of the galaxy that is
known as Mabato Bundok, near the mighty Sabuja Nadi hyperspace stream?’ Sommer
asked.
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There was only one man who raised his voice: ‘Yes’, this single man replied to the
question, firmly and confidently. The lone voice calling out in the night belonged to Seb
Melch. ‘I suppose that everybody among us knows the name but nobody other than me
has been there, as I may conclude from the silence of all these gentleman around me’, Seb
Melch continued to recount. ‘I know that there are very rich mined up there’, he narrated.
‘Those mines are from very ancient times, from the age of the very first Varanoides or
maybe from a race that predated them but disappeared. Those first discoverers did
apparently not exploit thoroughly these very rich veins of ore. There seemed to have
happened some superficial exploration of the riches that was easy to obtain. There is
evidence that it might have continued over a long time, but on a low level of intensity.’
Ben Sommer nodded. ‘All that I can positively confirm’, he reassured his audience. ‘There
are several very rich metalliferous lodes and veins that were explored and superficially
exploited in ancient times. It is obvious that there is still so much more of the precious
metals in the rock that anyone of us could easily become very rich if he joined the
endeavour’, Ben extolled the natural treasure to be found there.
‘I have myself seen several of these rudimentary mined and I can assure you that the
metalliferous lodes they lead to are very rich’, Ben Sommer went on to tell. ‘I have been
there and I am on my return way to Tasik Perak. A very capable and competent mining
engineer will come along with me because we want to see if the business there could be
done on a big scale. We have to find out how we can get the energy supply and the
required water for the mining project and then there will be some other technical issued
to be taken care off’, Sommer informed his audience. ‘As you may understand, such an
undertaking will likely hold a range of uncertainties and might pose some difficulties that
need to be overcome in order for us to succeed. Because we, me and my engineer partner,
need a number of good people, experienced, willing, able-bodied, practical persons who
can work hard and well and who can cope with uncertainties, I am offering you the
opportunity to join us. Let your work here rest in peace for as long as you want and come
with me to Tasik Perak. You will get paid well for your work!’ Ben offered.
There was great joy among the men in the ruined loggers’ camp. They had just lost their
hoppers, their abode, their garage, most of their tools and supplies and now they were
given a much better chance to earn well; maybe even make a handsome fortune. ‘That’s a
great offer!’ Lentbender exclaimed. ‘That’s a beautiful offer!’ he rejoiced. ‘That Ben
Sommer will keep his word and treat and pay you well, that nobody can honestly doubt,
after we have experienced that great gentleman here and seen with our own eyes his
honourable actions. I am certain that any adventurer joining him will not just experience a
great time but also reap a handsome return. I myself would love to join that enterprise
immediately and I consider it a great honour that I was asked. Unfortunately, I must not
join because I have to hunt down this terrible Claybrinck first’, Lentbender regretted
having to decline Ben Sommer’s friendly and generous offer.
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‘The same holds true for me’, Seb Melch demurred. ‘As much as I would love to accept
your offer, I cannot because I have to follow Claybrinck, too’, he said to Ben Sommer.
‘Otherwise, I would join for the adventure alone and for the honour to be with such a
great gentleman who makes such munificent an offer. But it can’t be as I, too, have to
capture that execrable creature Claybrinck who has done so much harm to so many’, Seb
Melch pleaded with honest regret.
Ben Sommer only smiled. It was a fine smile, not a broad laugh. ‘The two of you share a
wish that both of you will most surely see fulfilled if you stay with me’, Sommer replied to
the pleading of both gentlemen. Then, he turned to Seb Melch. ‘Why Mister Lentbender
seeks revenge, we all know. But why you and this brave youngster Duref are behind
Claybrinck, you have not as of yet told us’, Ben stated. ‘From our conversations it’s
possible to assume and conclude but no definite information has been given’, he said,
while looking at Seb Melch and Duref. Both did not show much inclination to convey such
courteously requested elucidation at the moment. Therefore, Ben Sommer refrained from
insisting on the clarification of those gentlemen’s motives for hunting Claybrinck. Duref
had earlier mentioned that Claybrinck had murdered his people. If the youngster did not
want to talk about any details, that was understandable. The issue seemed to be murder,
again, and that or course provided a strong motive for revenge.
Understanding that, Ben Sommer thus addresses Seb Melch and Duref again: ‘I do not
want to permeate your privacy. Whenever you will want to tell your motives and history,
you can rely on me having an open ear for you. Till then, rest assured to remain
unmolested by any curiosity’, he propitiated the young man and his detective-type
companion.
Then, he continued with his talks. ‘Something I should tell you because it concerns also
that mission of yours to seek justice for the death of your people’, he said to both
Lentbender and Duref. ‘When we relocated from the lower camp ground to this upper
location here, we had to carry the bound gangsters along. The youngest of them was with
me. He told me that he was very sorry for his joining of that gang and that he just had
come along with the villains because of his older brother. He said his brother had been is
only living relative and because that senior sibling joined the gang, the younger one had
chosen to accompany him. Now, the older brother is among the dead while the younger
one has thought of changing his life let he may soon meet his fate in a similar way. This
younger one of those two criminal brothers wants to become an honest adventurer now.
He is eager to make amends and he wants to change over to our team. He told me that he
could elucidate us concerning the intentions of Claybrinck. For reasons of both humanity
and prudence I would prefer not to reject that young fellow. He may provide us with
valuable intelligence if we allow him to change the sides. May I get this young fellow and
bring him here, so that he can tell all of us what he knows?’
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The audience all agreed and approved the proposal. Seb Melch was especially curious. His
criminalistics bend of mind loved the idea of an interrogation. Questioning a defector who
wanted to change over from the villains to the good guys was just to his taste. As a young
fellow, this guy was probably just too young for being a case-hardened criminal, though
such cases did exist. Some criminals had started very early with their devilish career. Older
villains might take a situation as this one here most of their gang was either dead or
captive as a normal setback. For a young chap it might look like a total disaster and signify
that crime ultimately does not pay of; and that the term ultimately could signify a time
quite close by.
Soon after, the potential defector stood in the middle of the group of loggers and
adventurers. He was not much older than about twenty years of age. To Seb Melch, that
made it seem already a dicey that the repentance was true and heart-felt and not just
tactical. But then, if it was strategic and the fellow wanted to leave a life of evil-doing
behind and join the better adventurers, why should he object. People made mistakes and
if it was useful to accept their remorse, be it true or not, it was wise to do so on its own
right.
Ben Sommer cut open the ropes that were biding the ankles and wrists of the young
fellow together. The other gangsters were well out of sight, so that they could not notice
what was going on. Ben had already separated that one younger fellow from the other
captives, so that these would not even perceive when he was taken along to reveal his
information to the assembled adventurers. It was wise to act that way because Sommer
wanted to prevent the young fellow to fear the revenge of the other gangsters. At best,
the other villains would not even have any clue that this young guy told their plans to
Sommer, Melch, Grant, and their companions.
Ben Sommer directed his words to the young defector: ‘Well, you see now that I'm not
averse to fulfilling your request to join the good side. You have been misled by your
brother. If you promise to all of us this hand of yours to be a good person from now on, I
forgive you from that moment on. You shall be free to live a respectable life. I would help
you to become an upright adventurer’, Ben Sommer promised. It was a big promise that
he made. He had not agreed on it with the others. It was from his own right that Sommer
proposed all this. And, secretly, he had decided to take the freedom to make the
fulfilment of his promise dependent on the conduct of that young defector. He offered a
deal and that contract required adherence by both side. Should the other signatory not
align his actions with his uttered promise, the deal would lose validity and Ben would not
be bound by his words either. ‘What is your name anyway?’ Sommer then asked.
‘Revilo is my name, sir’, the young fellow replied. Then, he broke out in tears. Wiping
away the welling tears with his hand, he declared: ‘I do not want to bother you with the
story of my life. That you may occasionally learn later. But I want to promise you with my
full heart that you shall be satisfied with my conduct. If you let me re-join the good people
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of this galaxy then I want to thank you for all my life’, Revilo promised. Then, he looked
up, saw everyone into the eyes, took a deep breath and added: ‘If you were to meet my
two wishes.’
‘What?’ everybody wanted to know. The question came with a certain aggression in the
voice because the audience wasn’t pleased with this fellow who had come as a repenting
defector from the evil-doers and now dared to put forward a request; actually even two.
‘Please forgive me not only apparently, but in reality, that you found me such bad
company’, Revilo put forward his first request. ‘And give me permission to bury tomorrow
morning my brother who was shot dead. He should not be rotting in the water and torn
by the local fish’, he petitioned.
‘Those wished are granted’, Ben Sommer decided. ‘They tell me that you are serious with
your intention to change your life and become one of us. From now on, you belong to us
and you will avoid being seen by your former comrades because they may not know that
you are now with us’, Ben declared. Because his was the knowledge about the rich mine
that he had spoken about earlier, the others conceded silently. Not everybody trusted this
new chap Revilo fully. As a matter of fact, most people were not even sure if Ben trusted
him or if the experienced adventurer just played a trick. Sommer himself, being realistic
enough to take deceitfulness on the side of the defector into account, had his reservations,
too. He did not talk about them, though. But for sure, he had thought about the matter.
Yet, he had come to the conclusion that the best and fastest way to get the information
that Revilo possessed was to let the young fellow join the team. Ben could anyway offer
Revilo more than Claybrinck could offer him. So it should be a rational decision to join the
good side, too. If some action was based on both conscience and rationality, it had a solid
fundament; something to rely on decently.
After having looked around and seen the reaction of the other adventurers to the promise
he gave to the young defector, Ben Sommer turned to Revilo again: ‘You have mentioned
the intentions of Claybrinck. Do you know them?’
Revilo nodded. ‘For a long time Claybrinck kept his plans secret’, he started to present his
former leader’s intentions. ‘Yesterday evening he gave us the details’, the young defector
continued to expound the villains’ secrets. ‘He first wants to attend the great gangster
meeting, which will take place soon’, Revilo told his audience.
‘Aye’, Seb Melch shouted. ‘So it was true what I heard, namely that a lot of villains have
arranged to meet to meet somewhere near Marion Cora Station’, Melch proclaimed.
‘Hundreds of thousands of gangsters are rumoured to come together there’, he presented
his criminalistics knowledge. ‘They are supposed to discuss some bigger atrocity that
require a larger number of criminals to join and take part’, Seb announced. ‘Do you know
the precise coordinates?’ he asked Revilo.
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‘Yes, I do’, the young defector confirmed. ‘But from here, the place is well behind Marion
Cora Station, on planet Wasage Ankyun’.
Seb Melch shook his head. ’Never heard about this Wasage Ankyun’, he grouched.
‘Strange, that is’, he continued to grumble. ‘Very strange!’ It seemed as if he was in
disbelief. Maybe the young defector was a renegade of a different kind, an agent
provocateur or one who was switching sides at will, one who was sent to mislead the
enemy, one who did not really know or one who just invented something to enjoy
importance and attention. Nobody could see what Seb Melch was thinking bit everybody
could see that he was shaking his head.
‘They would hardly meet at a place that everybody knows’, Revilo interjected. ‘It’s a
gangsters’ meeting, after all. It’s upon invitation only, as far as I’m concerned.’
Seb Melch had stopped shaking his head and looked up, right into Revilo’s eyes. ‘What
kind of invitation do you mean? How does it look like?` he asked.
‘I don’t know’, the young fellow confessed. ‘I have been told by Claybrinck that I was
invited. That’s all. I doubt anyway that there would be printed invitations or even digital
ones. I have never seen anything that could be traced back among our group’, Revilo
disclosed.
Seb Melch looked somewhat disappointed. ‘I wanted to go to that meeting because I had
hoped to find the one there whom I was looking for’, he revealed. ‘Unfortunately, I had no
idea that I was on the same spaceship with the fellow; on the Nellie Fortier we both were.
Oh, that would have been great to nab him already there. Much could have been
prevented’, Melch lamented. ‘Well, then we have to catch him on planet Wasage Ankyun;
if that location exists at all and if Claybrinck really wants to go there. Would you join me,
Mister Lentbender?’ Seb asked the old man, who had his own mission of revenge to
complete.
Lentbender nodded. ‘Sure I will’, he said. ‘Sure as hell.’ Then he turned his head to Ben
Sommer. ‘But we’ll have to do without you then’, he deplored.
‘That’s absolutely not the case’, Sommer responded. ‘My own next destination on my way
to Tasik Perak is Sherbetor’s plantation. It’s on a planet that is almost directly on the way
from here to Tasik Perak. It’s no detour. Sherbetor’s plantation belongs to the brother of
the mining engineer with whom I want to exploit the metalliferous lodes on planet Tasik
Perak. The engineer is awaiting me on his brother’s plantation. So, we can stay together
till that destination for sure, because Wasage Ankyun, to my knowledge, is on the way
from here to Sherbetor’s plantation.’
Seb Melch looked at Ben Sommer with big eyes. ‘So, you know Wasage Ankyun’, he
exclaimed.
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‘I’ve heard about it’, confirmed the huge, strong man.
‘Why didn’t you say anything when I doubted that Revilo’s testimony?’ Melch questioned.
‘It discourteous to interrupt somebody else in his speech’, retorted Sommer, who did not
like to be scolded. He did not like others to be scolded either; unless he was the one to
scold and even then he did not really like it because he preferred there to be no reason for
reprimanding anyone at all. It was so much better if anyone just did his tasks well and
nobody gave reason for rebuking him.
‘Does Claybrinck harbour further plans?’ Ben Sommer asked Revilo, changing the theme of
the conversation from the issues of courtesy and his knowledge of Wasage Ankyun.
‘So he does!’ the young defector attested. ‘He wants to go to Arrano Buzutane Station to
rob the cash box of the freighter line there. He told us that Arrano Buzutane Station is a
small place of just about eight thousand to nine thousand inhabitants for the whole planet.
Yet, because it’s the central point for the Arrano Buzutane Region, which is a gold digging
area, there should be lots of got in the cash box of the freight line company there.’
Now, Seb Melch nodded again. Perhaps he remembered the bad experience that he made
with shaking his head in disbelief. But perhaps he was also according with Revilo’s
representation. ‘People there may not have other forms of money’, he tallied with the
account. ‘The same holds true for me at time. I paid often enough with gold nuggets and I
had no other ready exchange’, Melch said to say something again that couldn’t be
contradicted. Seb was a smart man and his method included hiding this intelligence to the
general public, to appear much more harmless than he was; even naïve. But he did want
the right people to acknowledge his astuteness. The scolding that he had to endure just
now did pinch his ego. Melch recognized great qualities in Ben Sommer, Tom Grand, and
even in Lentbender and he wanted to be respected by them.
‘Did Claybrinck say anything more about what he wanted to do at the gangsters’ meeting
on planet Wasage Ankyun?’ Tom Grand wanted to know from Revilo.
‘He just told us that he wanted to discuss his plan with some other people there. He was
confident that he could gather a number large enough to guarantee a good chance of
success. His intended raid on Arrano Buzutane Station required several hundred people at
least, he said’, Revilo answered.
‘Well then, now that we know what he wants to do, we can try to catch him at the
gangsters’ meeting on planet Wasage Ankyun first’, Seb Melch concluded.
‘Without any invitation?’ Revilo asked now. ‘How do you want to get admitted?’
‘As you got your invitation just verbally, I suppose it’s more of an information that a
formal and registered calling note’, Melch deduced. ‘People who are welcome to attend
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are being told about the event. That’s in my view the whole invitation. I don’t think that
there is a list of invitees. Such a thing would constitute too great a risk for the villains own
security. Anyone getting his hands on that list could round up lots of the worst gangsters
across the whole galaxy. I don’t think that they would like to risk that.’
‘Probably you’re right’, others agreed to Seb’s ratiocination.
‘So then’, Melch continued to explain his suggested course of action. ‘If we don’t catch
Claybrinck on planet Wasage Ankyun at the gangsters’ meeting we’ll meet him at Arrano
Buzutane Station.
‘If Claybrinck succeeded in attracting more villains to join his campaign, there might be a
veritable force of villains coming to raid Arrano Buzutane Station’, Tom Grand warned. ‘In
both locations, at the meeting and at the freight line’s office we’d be outnumbered by far’,
he conjured up the respective numbers involved.
‘It will be a matter of surprise and secrecy in the one place an and issue of coming early
enough, give warning to the locals and prepare well in the other location’, Seb Melch
reckoned.
‘And if you still don’t catch hold of Claybrinck in any of these locations, you can later on
nab him at Tasik Perak’, Revilo tried to abet the group of his new companions.
Those words brought about a general bout of surprise. ‘What does Claybrinck know about
Tasik Perak? What does he want to do there?’
‘He wants to recover a treasure’, replied Revilo. His many frank disclosures had made it
clear that he was probably very serious about really joining the good adventurers. To give
out so much high-quality information would be unusual for a double-agent.
‘What kind of treasure?’ the crowd asked.
‘A really big one!’ Revilo responded. ‘There are said to be immense riches buried or sunk
long ago by an ancient species in times immemorial. Claybrinck has an exact plan of the
place as which he has to search for the treasure.’
‘That may well be’, Sommer reasoned. ‘Mining went on there over a very long period of
time. It wasn’t quite the extensive mining that we have in mind for our project but over all
those many years, certainly a great amount of precious metal has been retrieved. It’s not
impossible that some share of it made remained there, either as a collection of crude,
untreated finds or in a processes form.’
‘Did you see the map?’ Tom Grand asked Revilo.
‘No’, the young man replied. ‘He does not show it to anyone.’
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‘Has he at least told you the coordinates?’ Seb Melch requested to know.
‘No’, Revilo regretted. ‘That he did not do either.’
‘We do know where Tasik Perak is’, Ben Sommer declared. ‘That’s enough for us to reach
the place. If we find a treasure there, too, then that’s an additional windfall gain. If not, it
shouldn’t be a problem either because mining will most likely pay us all well enough’, he
estimated. Then, he decided to tell all the attendees, and that meant especially the
loggers, what he had known about Claybrinck and Tasik Perak. ‘We knew since certain
incidents in the spaceship Nellie Fortier that Claybrinck wanted to get to Tasik Perak.
There, the gang he presides had hacked the portable computer of my engineer partner,
Mister Sherbetor. That computer contained, among other information, coordinates of
Tasik Perak and specifications concerning the metalliferous vein prevalent there as well as
estimations of likely achievable yields and the respective required equipment. As we
knew that Claybrinck had obtained this data, we assumed that he wanted to get to Tasik
Perak for that reason; for mining. We did not know how much sense he could make out of
the data that he got and what his exact plans are. Now, we know that Claybrinck had
another reason for his travel. That doesn’t actually change much. In fact, we can be glad
to know that, because now we can take precautions and be prepared.’
Seb Melch was still thinking about something else. His criminalistics bend of mind did not
let him just pass over an issue. If he did not find an answer soon, he would just keep on
digging longer and deeper. ‘We searched Claybrinck thoroughly and we took all that he
had, including his hopper. Nowhere had we found any map. We just left him with
whatever attire he wore. Could the map be hidden somewhere in his clothing?’
‘That I do not know’, Revilo answered. ‘But I believe that he has hidden it very well.
Actually, I believe that he doesn’t even carry the map along. Some of his remarks sounded
as if he had dug it up somewhere.’
‘May that map perhaps be a digital plan?’ Tom Grand asked.
‘I don’t think so’, Revilo replied without hesitation. ‘From Claybrinck’s talks and from the
circumstances I suppose that it was made of some solid stuff. Digital data is anyway not
really safe. You have experienced that fact with your own data that the gang I belonged to
hacked from your engineer’s portable computer.’
While Revilo was speaking, the attention of the audience was directed to his words.
Therefore, nobody took notice of the suddenly agitated mood of Duref. Seb Melch and the
youngster had their heads close together. Duref almost feverishly susurrated into the ear
of the older man. Melch looked very serious. Then, the youngster turned to the wider
audience and loudly proclaimed: ‘The map belonged to my parents.’
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Now, all eyes were on Duref. Everybody wanted to know everything immediately. Seb
Melch, though, stood up, raised his arms and declared: ‘Not now, my dear gentlemen. You
will later learn everything, the whole story you will be told. For now, I can only tell you
that the essence of the whole business consists in our desire, mine and that of Duref, to
join our friend Ben Sommer. We will be glad to accompany him to Tasik Perak and to all
the other places mentioned before, that are between here and there. Our interests are
very much aligned with those of our friend Sommer. Therefore, we will support him in his
venture because that leads us to the fulfilment of our own mission.
‘Me too’, Lentbender declared, audible to all. ‘I will also join, in any case, under any
circumstances’, he pledged. ‘We got into a host of intertwined secrets and I am damn
curious to see how that all will fall in line and everything will make sense at the end. It will
definitively be a great adventure. We’ll make a fortune going along and, of course, I have
my own bill to settle with this terrible Claybrinck’. Here, Lentbender kept silent for a
moment and looked around; saw all of his companions deep into the eyes. ‘Remember,
my friends’, he thundered, ‘it was Lentbender’s plan to finish us off and take away the
result of much hard word that we accomplished here. Ben Sommer, Seb Melch, and the
brave youngster Duref, all came here to warn us of our fate. Once they arrived, they were
in the middle of the struggle and they delivered me from evil. I was about to be killed; like
my family was killed before by the same man. I owe those gentlemen my life and I am
willing to pay my dues; with interest and interest’s interest. That along the way I can earn
some nice return and that I should be able to settle this old score should come as added
benefits. You, my friends, you are all most welcome to join, too!’
There was no holding back anymore. With Lentbender and Tom Grand already committed
to go along with Ben Sommer, and after the splendidly convincing speech that the old
man had just delivered, the other loggers all volunteered full-heartedly.
‘Well’, Ben Sommer said. ‘Then we should get going tomorrow morning. We all need some
good deal of sleep after the exertions of this evening and night. We don’t have to worry
about following Claybrinck’s traces through hyperspace either, because we do know
where he wants to go. We’ll hunt him down and render him harmless and then we can
continue taking care of our other business, namely earning handsome from mining at
Tasik Perak!’ Sommer enjoyed the applause that set in. ‘Let’s be good, faithful
companions, my dear gentleman!’
Some light years from that happy scene, something very different just went on in
hyperspace. The biggest series production hopper currently available in the entire galaxy
unhurriedly cruised along a softly rolling extra-dimensional stream. It was a custom
version of a New Triumph Hyper Rocket X. With the galaxy’s biggest production space
hopper engine the latest New Triumph Hyper Rocket X surpassed the huge performance
output of the original Rocket X by yet again a wide margin. The huge, triple-cycle engine
was designed to deliver a gut-wrenching acceleration and give the adventurous pilot any
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desired thrill to ride. Yet that hopper was easy and unintimidating to steer, despite its
massive power supply, if a disciplined pilot refrained from excesses. Its sweet handling
chassis, rigid frame and sophisticated suspension gave the rider of the latest New Triumph
Hyper Rocket X the confidence to sweep through hyperspace swirls and change direction
with an agility that belied this huge hopper’s size. It was a tremendously fast, swift,
comfortable, powerful hopper and it was outrageously expensive. The latest New Triumph
Hyper Rocket X was so expensive that hardly ever anyone bought it. Of its few customers,
just a yet smaller minority then had custom features added. The one that was cruising
gently down this rolling hyperspace stream was loaded with customs features. One of the
peculiarities were two guns mounted outside on the frame of the hopper. Because latest
New Triumph Hyper Rocket X was such a rare vessel, the adventurers in that corner of the
galaxy where it just roamed would most likely not recognize it. The folks here were used
to see and desire Yamaha hoppers. These were strong, fast, practical, came at a good
value-for-money ratio, and very reliable. It was this unique combination of value for
money, including the legendary reliability that made Yamaha hoppers the object of
craving for the local population in the free areas of the galaxy. Many of the locals,
independent of their species, not only desired but also bought these vessels. With the
latest New Triumph Hyper Rocket X it was different. There probably wasn’t anything even
distantly related to this hopper within a range of probably at least ten thousand lights
years.
The person piloting this outrageously expensive but also excellent latest New Triumph
Hyper Rocket X custom model was of average height, yet sturdy build. The gentleman
belonged to the human race, wasn’t fat but muscular and of no remarkable age; neither
very young nor very old. The open visor of his helm allowed his peculiar nose and his
funny beard to be seen.
The inside of that latest New Triumph Hyper Rocket X custom was filled with lots of
equipment. There was ample food and water, a full range of camping gear, some
laboratory kit including a microscope, a telescope as well as binoculars, night vision
devices, diving outfit, oxygen bottles, an excellent sleeping back to withstand the coldest
environments, and more. The stuff was all of the very best available. Nothing of it was old.
It must have cost a fortune to amass all that.
The pilot travelled at his leisure. He apparently wasn’t in any hurry and he let the
automatic controls of his hopper cooperate harmoniously with the gently rolling
hyperspace stream that he had chosen to travel along.
Suddenly, something changed. Two old hoppers came rushing along the same hyperspace
current. It was a slow, gently swinging current, meandering through that superposed
dimension. It wasn’t very broad, though. Especially, this stream was too narrow for pilots
of hoppers who could not navigate in sync; or did not want to. Those two old hoppers that
came suddenly rushing along obviously did not move in sync with the New Triumph Hyper
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Rocket X. Whether their pilots did not want to or could not was another question. Certain
was only that they did not. They might have been in a rush, pressed hard for some urgent
need, following whatever call of whatever superior authority, or whatever else reason.
They rushed recklessly and soon came close to the big up-market hopper. All of them
could not pass that hyperspace stream parallel to each other. Experienced and willing
pilots could travel along in row, one behind the other, flying in sync and causing least
disturbance to this current of the superposed dimension. With the two new-coming
travellers being either not experienced or not willing, all three hoppers soon plunged out
of hyperspace.
In principle, it would have been possible for the pilot of the New Triumph Hyper Rocket X
hopper to try re-entering hyperspace. The stream he had been going along with was
disturbed for a while. For how long it was to remain un-available could only be guessed. It
might as well recover soon for it was narrow but regular. Such regularity hinted to good
healing capacities. There might be other currents around, too. The expensive hopper’s
pilot came from some other place and wasn’t familiar with the local circumstances. Still,
there was no harm trying. His excellent hopper had all the latest technological features. If
there was any hyperspace current to use at all in the vicinity, this machine could make use
of it. The pilot didn’t want to return, though. He was curious.
The two other hoppers that had suddenly appeared in that hyperspace stream that had
broken down because of their rogue navigation practice appeared to try pushing the New
Triumph Hyper Rocket X toward some inhabitable planet nearby. It’s pilot used one of the
advanced custom features, a powerful telescope with superb magnification, to have a
look at both the unknown flying objects and the apparently intended destination. The
foreign hoppers were old machines, very old. They looked as if only a constant flow of
wonders kept them going. There was probably not much left on them that belonged to
the original model as it had left the factory. They were assemblies of spare-parts and they
were not armed. That wasn’t a big surprise because hoppers usually didn’t carry weapons
on the outside. Their passengers might take rifles or pistols or whatever other arms along
with them inside the cabin, of course. Because hoppers were civilian type goods, their
makers didn’t arm them, as a rule. Anyway, it was good to know that those two samples
here followed that rule. Now, it was teaching-a-lesson time in the reverse order, judged
the expensive hopper’s pilot.
Soon before the three spaceflight devices reached that intended destination, an
apparently nice inhabitable planet, the New Triumph Hyper Rocket X took a turn and
landed on that world’s moon. The two other hoppers followed. They, too, landed on that
moon. It was one of those barren, big, round, crater-littered, dusty, rocky, and convenient
moons that many inhabitable worlds had. Such moons attracted many of the comets that
passed by and incurred their wrath; saving their mother planets from a great number of
impacts. Such big moons also stabilised the rotation axis of the planets they circled and
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provided tides, stirring up and moving the oceans, if there were any, in a regular way.
They gave rise to coastal marshlands and those intertidal mudflats that were so
convenient for the development of life. Now, this big, helpful moon had come
conveniently expedient to the expensive hopper’s pilot.
The man exited his space flight device and waited to see what the others would do. He
wore full body armour or the most excellent making. The chemically stabilised carbon
material, multiple layers of graphene to be precise, was protecting its wearer from about
anything that others were usually to throw or shoot at people. Tough as the stuff was
mechanically, the technical wizardry was in chemically stabilizing it, because it had a
tendency to be highly reactive, if not protected well. Because of this feature, graphene
was not used for applications, where robust, failure-proof materials were required that
could be easily mended, was forgiving when it came to environmental distress and bad
treatment. Mechanically, though, graphene body armour was the most resilient stuff
available. It was highly expensive, too. For these reasons, it was rarely used in the free
areas of the galaxy; unpractical and costly, the usual adventurer wasn’t using it.
The pilot of the New Triumph Hyper Rocket X was very well protected by his expensive full
body armour, though. For him, it was a very practical piece of equipment in this moment.
He could face the others, whoever they were and whatever they wanted, without fear.
When those had exited their hoppers, too, he started slowly moving toward them. They
also walked in his direction.
The old, trashy hoppers had carried two men. One was very tall and thin. The other one
was very short and broad; seemed almost broader than high. They likewise wore
spacesuits because the moon they were standing on had no atmosphere; for any practical
matter. Like any such heavenly body, this moon also released a few atoms here and there,
expelled by surface sputtering in direct response to these intense and variable
environmental drivers it was subjected to. That was of theoretical importance only.
Because they wore space suits, not more than the figures of those two pilots could be
recognised. They were apparently human, despite their odd shapes that bordered to the
very extreme that this race exhibited. They carried one rifle each; long devices with
telescopic sight attached. They could do nothing to the man from the New Triumph Hyper
Rocket. Perhaps if a projectile from such rifles collided with a finger of that man’s hands,
pain would ensue, maybe even a broken finger phalanx or injured joint; nothing more.
The two men coming from the old, trashy hoppers gave hand signals to the single fellow
that he should turn his radio communication on. He followed the advice and adjusted his
radio device, which was integrated into his helmed, till it matched the frequency that the
other guys used.
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‘Where are you coming from?’ the shorter of the two foreign fellows started the
interrogation.
The expensive hopper’s pilot pointed with his hand to his back: ‘From there.’
‘That I do see’, gave the very short but very broad guy back. ‘Where do you want to go?’
‘There’, the lone gentleman replied, pointing straight in with his hand.
‘You are really a funny fellow’, said the short, broad guy in amazement. ‘But as you are
roaming around in our quarter of the galaxy, you should know the local habits and
customs. There are so many strange folks roaming around here, down to literally dubious
ragtag riffraff, that any honourable person is compelled to scrutinise thoroughly anyone
he’s coming across. Therefore, you may go back to wherever you came from but if you
want to proceed on your previous course, you must tell us what you are doing and what
your intentions are; and you must tell the truth and nothing but the truth and the full
truth; all of it.’ To add authority to his demanding words, the short fellow stamped his
long rifle to the dusty ground, from where some powder raised itself, formed a little cloud
and soon settled again. There was not atmosphere, to the dust had no chance to remain
air-born. The long fellow followed the short guy and did the same. The whole exercise led
only to those guys having a little more dust on their boots than before, nothing else.
Had they seen the minute movements that the two external weapons made, that were
attached to the customised New Triumph Hyper Rocket X, they might have felt less secure
and less sure of their superiority. These two weapons were controlled by an automated
defence system that also belonged to the custom editions of the gentleman’s special
space vessel. In the event of any serious disagreement, the two strangers would be
outgunned in the first instance by they customized hopper. That machine’s owner knew it,
and he had his body armour, too. Therefore, he could remain calm and cool. To the other
fellows, who had no idea of their situation, this single man’s behaviour seemed very
strange, though.
‘Now, tell us where you come from!’ demanded the short, broad man to be told.
‘From Zamuk Ezero’, the well-protected gentleman answered the bumptious question. He
answered with the voice of a man who was rather bored than scared; almost as if he did
not realise in what situation he was and that the odds were two against one in case a
brawl should break out.
‘I don’t know this place’, stated the short fellow, who was obviously the one who did the
talking. ‘Where is it to be found?’
‘In the New Alba Region of the Carina–Sagittarius Arm of our Milky Way Galaxy’, the
gentleman replied courteously.
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‘What weird homes people come from’, said the short fellow in amazement. ‘I don’t care
about that far-off place. But where do you think that you are going to now, from here?’
‘To Gatkali in the Ruag Region of the Scutum–Centaurus Arm’, the calm gentleman
answered.
‘I don’t know that place’, the broad guy confessed. ‘Where it is?’
‘In the Ruag Region of the Scutum–Centaurus Arm’, was the correct but useless answer; a
repetition of information already given and yet not understood. It was as futile as the
question.
‘What direction?’ the beefy guy inquired.
The expensive hopper’s pilot again pointed with his hand into the sky: ‘There!’.
‘So, today you want to go from there to there’, the burly fellow said, spread his arms and
pointed with his hands in the two opposite directions. To keep up his long rifle, he had
kept it leaning against his shoulder. That rifle was so long that it towered above the short
guy.
‘Not quite today’, the gentleman replied. For some reason he had not yet given up the
obviously funny conversation. There was something that kept him interested in talking to
that local person.
‘What are you doing here?’ the short guy wanted to know.
‘I’m travelling’, was the reply that the gentlemen gave.
‘And what are you?’ the speaker of the funny foreigners asked.
‘Human’, the customised hopper’s pilot told truthfully.
‘Are you an adventurer, too?’ the broad, sturdy guy requested to learn.
‘Yes’, the gentleman only answered with a single word, pronounced neutrally.
‘That’s all getting too much for me’, the short fellow said, more to himself and to his
companion that to the single man who had stepped out from that strange hopper. ‘I need
to have a closer look at this funny creature’, he announced and started coming closer. He
walked with measured steps, not fast, nor slow, at about the speed of a leisurely
promenade walk. His companion soon followed him at the same unhurried speed. They
did not realise that the automated weapons’ system of the customised hopper kept track
of them and followed all their moves.
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When they came closer to the well-clad gentleman he could see their space suits better.
They were rough-and-tough, solid and adapted to the environment but obviously old and
heavily worn out.
‘Don’t make any wrong move!’ demanded the talkative of the two strange fellows. ‘Lest
we have to shoot you!’ he warned.
‘Don’t worry’, the gentleman replied calmly. ‘I am not in the habit of making wrong
moves’, he asserted. ‘I wouldn’t bet on you shooting me, though’, he prognosticated. He
knew well that the automated defence system of his hopper was keeping aim at the
approaching two guys. Upon a word of him or upon anyone of them raising his rifle and
pointing at him, the automated system would solve the issue decisively and with final
consequences. Not to scare those fellows, he did not tell them, though. It was his
experience that keeping information to himself was useful at times. When to share and
when not to disclose fact was a difficult art which awarded its master with frequent
advantages.
The two men in their heavily worn-out spacesuits had reached the well-clad gentleman
now. They looked at him from tip to toe and back. Then, they circled him twice, then once
more. Despite them circling him altogether thrice, the gentleman did not move at all. He
showed no sign of incertitude. For the two strange fellows, that was weird and now they
started feeling some precariousness creeping up their spines. That single guy must either
be totally crazy and entirely out of any understanding of his situation or there was
something very wrong in their own position, slowly came to their minds.
‘So, tell us, what kind of funny fellow are you?’ the shorter guy demanded.
‘It is enough now’, the gentlemen replied. ‘Do you really consider it appropriate to behave
yourself toward me in that way? Before you answer unreflecting better imagine yourself
in the same position. You act as if the free part of the galaxy was your personal property.
There, you are wrong’, he reprimanded them. ‘Till now, you asked me and I answered’, he
recounted. ‘Now, I want to know from you who you are and what you are doing!’
The voice of the gentleman now had a determined tone and his words were clear and selfconfident. That surprised the two strange guys who had thought themselves to be in
control; and rightly so. The short one of them, who anyway was faster with both actions
and talk than his tall but silent and slow companion, moved his head to look at his rifle.
That was supposed to be a clear hint to the balance of power; or rather the unbalance of
power, as he saw it. To re-inforce this statement, the broad, short guy moved the long rife
up.
‘I wouldn’t even think of it, if I were you’, the gentleman warned with a stern voice. ‘The
muzzles of two guns are pointing at you and one wrong move from you and they will
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neutralise you in an instant’, he declared. ‘If you direct your vision toward my hopper, you
will find that you are looking right into these two gun muzzles’, the gentleman indicated.
Both such addressed fellows realized that he spoke the truth and that the balance of
power had all the time be very much in this single adventurer’s favour.
‘May we talk reasonable now?’ the gentleman requested.
‘You’re not from here, so you will not know that there has been a surplus of dubious,
shady figures recently coming along here though this this vicinity’, the talkative of the two
foreign fellows explained. ‘It’s like a tide of rogues sweeping through here and we wanted
to know what kind of person you are. We have to be cautious these days. We ourselves
are honest people. We are knows as such anywhere from all along the Muweka Oloni
hyperspace stream to planets Collin Denton and Sutro Halladie. We are honourable
adventurers and we wanted to get into the Mabato Bundok Region to find a group of likeminded persons there; for gold-digging or logging or whatever we can make a living with.’
‘Understood’, the gentleman confirmed that he heard the words. ‘May I hear your names,
too?’ he requested.
‘Please excuse this omission’, responded the short fellow who had done the talking all the
time for both of the strange foreigners. ‘My own name is Ross Stark’, he introduced
himself, pointing with his free hand to his heart. His other hand was still holding the long
rifle, the butt of which was firmly on the ground and its muzzle towering above the peak
of the broad man’s helmet. ‘This highly respectable gentleman is Honourable Boman’, he
presented his companion. ‘In his case, his generous character is honourable and his given
name is Honourable, too.’
The pilot of the expensive, customised hopper looked at both men for some time, as if he
wanted to pierce the golden visors of their helmets with his eyes. ‘As we have not come to
much more civilised terms, I presume it safe to consider you well-behaved and honest
gentlemen’, the owner of the New Triumph Hyper Rocket X announced. ‘My name is Ed
Arn and I am an adventurer of curiosity’, he introduced himself. ‘I am travelling the galaxy
looking for the peculiar, the unordinary, the singular, the unique, the wondrous and
marvellous, anything that is very special, with a focus on all forms of life. I am interested
in the smallest bacteria and the biggest fish, the fastest and the heaviest, the sturdiest
and the finest. The more extreme a lifeform is, the more interested I am to see it. By the
grace of good fortune, I am in a position to follow this curious passion of mine and collect
all those samples, carry them home and find enjoyment with them.’
That was the truth. It wasn’t the entire truth, though. Ed Arn did not lie. He just omitted
that he was making a fortune with these peculiar samples. Ed Arn was a genetic
discoverer, a biological scout, he searching lifeforms that had extreme properties for the
purpose of selling their genetic codes to different industries, mainly pharmaceutical and
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bio-chemical companies. He was making tremendous money with his adventurism. That
part of the full truth he kept for himself, though. According to his experience, it was better
that way.
‘As we have no introduced ourselves to each other, we could advance to even more
friendly terms’, Ed Arn suggested. ‘I had the impression that you wanted me to land on
that inhabitable planet nearby’, he recollected. ‘Am I right with this assumption?’
‘Our camp is down there and we wanted have a look at our visitor in a more familiar,
homely atmosphere’, Ross Stark responded. He most likely said the truth, or at least part
of the truth, because the space suits he and his companion wore made it self-evident that
they preferred a breathable atmosphere; or at least any non-toxic atmosphere with
appropriate pressure.
‘So, shall we go to your camp?’ asked Ed Arn.
Ross Stark and Honourable Boman were surprised but not antipathetic to the suggestion.
They agreed and invited Ed Arn to follow them with his hopper. Then, they returned to
their space flight devices, entered them and took off.
Soon later, all three hoppers and their captains stood firmly on the solid ground of the just
mentioned planet. More than being just breathable, the atmosphere was clean, clear and
fresh. Ross Stark and Honourable Boman had their camp in a broad valley between soft
rolling hills. A languorously purling creek flew at a leisurely pace along the vale. There was
a small fireplace, nicely done with stones. Some ember was still giving a little warmth.
There was a kettle with food over the ember. Ed Arn sat down, took a foldable spoon from
one of the pockets in his belt and started eating.
‘That’s all right!’, Ross Stark lamented. ‘Never mind any personal property or courtesy in
the free, wide open of our wide and far galaxy. No need to be ceremonious! Just forget
about formalities!’ He couldn’t trust his eyes when he saw the implicitness of Ed Arn’s
behaviour. Like a duck takes to water that fellow just pitched into their food.
‘Yes, you’re right!’ confirmed Ed Arn. ‘Formalities aren’t of so much use out here!’ he
agreed with the comments of Ross Stark, completely ignoring the sarcastic tone. ‘But
don’t you want to eat, too? Or had you already finished your meal when you took to outer
space for intercepting me?’
‘Well, we weren’t out there for you’, replied Ross Stark. ‘We couldn’t know that you were
around, or coming along. There was some other traffic and we wanted to check what was
going on. As I told you, there have been quite many rogues around here recently’, he
recounted. ‘And yes, that’s our food and we had eaten before leaving for our tour of the
vicinity and we wanted to eat again after coming back.’
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‘Sure’, Ed Arn encouraged Ross Stark and Honourable Boman. ‘There is still enough for
you!’ Then, after a couple of full spoons more that he emptied into his mouth, he said:
‘Today, it’s your treat. Tomorrow, it will be mine. As you took care of food today, I will
make sure we all have to eat tomorrow.’
Ross Stark was again surprise. ‘Do you think that we will still be all together by tomorrow?’
‘Sure’, Ed Arn confirmed. ‘You see, I came along the Arcus Stream till I reached planet
Cobb Enawlum. There, I wanted to depart from the mighty Arcus and venture along the
smaller currents passing by there in the vicinity. You will know about that nexus near
Cobb Enawlum, I suppose. Anyway, I wanted to hire some scout, or two, there but could
not find any. At least I didn’t find any whom I thought that I could trust with leading me to
what I want to see. Therefore, I continued my travel alone. But now, I met you two
gentlemen out here. I was looking for somebody who is familiar with the planets in this
part of the galaxy. I need somebody to tell me about the most peculiar lifeform around
here. You are obviously very well experienced and you must know a lot about this region
because you are making your living here. Therefore, I would like to hire you, both of you,
as I believe that you are used to working together, as my scouts’, Ed Arn declared. ‘So,
would you like to join me and come along?’
‘Come along where to?’ Ross Stark wanted to know.
‘All the way to planet Sutro Halladie’, Ed Arn replied.
‘This you say as if it was just the matter of a day’, the short, broad fellow gave back.
‘It’s a matter, for sure. Be it of a day or a year, I will pay’, Ed Arn reassured the two
adventurers who were apparently not so very well to do. ‘And you’re looking for
employment anyway, don’t you?’
Both fellows shook their heads. ‘We are looking for a group to join and work together
with, but we are not looking for positions to be employees. None of us has ever been an
employee. We’ve always been independent. I wouldn’t even know how to be an
employee and follow what I’m being told’, Ross Stark disapproved the offer.
‘Oh, sorry, there may be some misunderstanding’, Ed Arn apologized. ‘I don’t need people
to chase them around. What I need are true scouts who can show me the wonders of the
most extreme local lifeforms. I will pay your cost of life; give you a daily wage just for
spending your time and for any one curious being that you can show me, I will pay you a
bonus. Do you feel this to be a decent offer?’
Ross Stark and Honourable Boman looked at each other and nodded. Then, they looked at
Ed Arn and also nodded. Initially, they both said ‘Yes!’ with a steady voice. That was the
first time since they met that Honourable Boman spoke.
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‘And how much do you want?’ Ed Arn asked.
Ross Stark and Honourable Boman had never before been employed by anyone and so
their knowledge of the customary pay was anything buy profound. They had to discuss the
matter for a little while among themselves. Still, they were not sure what numbers to
indicate. To bring the business to an end and reach a conclusion, Ed Arn gave a suggestion
and it was accepted by his two new scouts. Then, something came to his mind. ‘If the sum
that I will be due to you will rise above what I have with me in ready cash, you will get the
excess at planet Sutro Halladie’, he promised. ‘Actually, I hope that you will be able to
show me so many curious life forms that I will soon owe you a lot more than what I have
with me’, he wished. ‘My good old inquisitiveness is giving me an itch already!’ he utterer
full of pleasant anticipation. Ross Stark and Honourable Boman found this behaviour a bit
strange but they judged the man wealthy enough to cough up all that he promised, given
his looks. They had never seen a New Triumph Hyper Rocket X, let alone such a custom
model, but it seemed new because it looked un-worn and the attire of the gentleman also
was in brand-new shape. And then, of course, there was still time to think about what to
do and if need be defect once the man ran out of ready cash. Till then, they’d have a
source for their livelihood and that was fine for now.
In this moment of general happiness and consensus the approximation alarm of Ed Arn’s
hopper barged in and ruptured the prevailing peaceful silence with its annoying sinuswave sound. A pure sinus-wave sound was among the most annoying noise that could be
produced at all and therefore it was commonly uses for alarm buzzers for it was rare that
something of such high nuisance-value was ignored.
The passive surrounding surveillance of Ed Arn’s customized hopper was the best model
available that would fit in a device of that size; like anything else in and on that New
Triumph Hyper Rocket X. It had detected the approaching object long before the proximity
alarm systems of Ross Stark’s and Honourable Boman’s hoppers would have responded, if
they were in working condition, which they weren’t. Ross Stark and Honourable Boman
relied on the galaxy being big enough for the avoidance of collisions. Out here, in the free
areas of the Milky Way, that worked decently well. In the densely populated regions
where most New Triumph models were sold as adventure machines for rich pleasureriders such equipment was life-saving.
‘It’s getting a bit over-crowded here!’ Ross Stark complained. ‘Earlier, you’d be alone for
months on end, even years, but now, every once in a while somebody is coming along’, he
grumbled. Then, looking at Ed Arn and fearing that the gentleman could be embarrassed,
he explained: ‘As mentioned earlier, there have recently been many shady figures
roaming around here; gangsters I mean, real bad people. We don’t want to be surprised
by any of them. We actually don’t even want to meet anyone of them, if we could avoid it.
And if they come our way, we want to be the first ones to spot them and we want to be in
control of what happens further on.’
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Like in my case, Ed Arn thought. Of course, to be warned early of any incoming visitor, if
awaited and welcome or not, an early warning system was useful. Ed Arn’s New Triumph
Hyper Rocket X had one. Ross Stark’s and Honourable Boman’s hoppers had none, at least
none that was functional. Being a gentleman, he abstained from rubbing that in. Till date,
Stark and Boman had got along with their personnel hyperspace surveillance. They
patrolled the superposed dimension and registered fluctuations, swirls, and turbulences in
the currents that were typical for space crafts passing through. That had served as their
intelligence and it had worked well till date. In an area where hyperspace streams were
narrow and the traffic frequency was low, this approach had its advantages; one being
that they didn’t have to spend on new surveillance devices or have the old ones repaired.
That spending would be an issue because they didn’t have the money. Also, hyperspace
patrolling covered a much larger area than passive proximity alarm systems could, even
hypothetically.
Anyway, it did not take long and the cause that had triggered the unnerving sinus sound
became visible. Something approached from outer space. Like a falling start it came down.
It’s wouldn’t be entirely wrong to describe its way of approach as falling. It didn’t burn up
by friction heat but it was visibly hot, leaving a trail through the otherwise very clear
atmosphere. The unknown flying object touched ground two or three kilometres from the
campfire of the three adventurers. There was no explosion to be heard and thus there
remained a good chance that the thing, whatever it was, did not suffer disintegration.
Ross Stark was the first one to suggest having a look at it. Ed Arn was an experienced
adventurer but his field of expertise mainly covered nature in all its forms. This vent here
clearly had to do with technology. The proximity detection system identified the unknown
fallen object vaguely as a hopper. Even with the bare eye, the metallic gloss was to be
recognised when the thing came down. Thus, the evidence spoke for an intelligent visitor,
not for a creature of nature.
When Ross Stark declared his intention to walk up the next hill and have a look from there
at what it was that had just dropped from heaven, Ed Arn told him to take a binocular
along. He quickly rushed to his hopper, grabbed three binoculars, returned to his new
companions and gave one to each, keeping one for himself, too. ‘I will also come up’, he
declared. The two scouts were not convinced that this was a good idea but there was no
time for discussions. Stark just asked Arn to stay back and stay low and to refrain from any
action that could betray them. Ed promised that. He felt a little pinch of disregard because
it seemed as if his scouts didn’t have full trust in his abilities to cope with such a situation.
Yet, he had no intention to start a discussion now. He just complied and followed Ross up
the hill, keeping always a few steps behind.
Near the top of the hill, they went down to the ground and moved on deep-crawling. The
hill was covered with high grass-type vegetation and the three adventurers could remain
almost completely concealed by the nearly hip-high, dense greenery.
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Ross Stark was the first of the three adventurers who reached the peak of the hill,
carefully stuck his head out of the grass and peeped through the binocular that Ed had
given him. Just moments after he had the binocular before his eyes, Ross jumped up and
waved with his both arms like a windmill. Then, he formed a funnel with his hands and
shouted as loud as he could. He turned his head for a moment, said ‘Achesh Akanem’ to
Honourable Boman, called at him to do make himself seen, reversed again and continued
alternatingly to shout and wave his arms. Boman only played the windmill and did not
shout.
Ed Arn was very much astonished. Hadn’t he just been told to remain invisible, do nothing
that could attract attention and were not his two scouts just creating a carnival fair?
When Boman and Stark realised that they had been seen, they ceased shooting and
waving and sat down again. ‘It’s Achesh Akanem’, Ross explained to Arn. ‘He’s a
Varanoide and a good friend of us. Actually, he’s not just any Varanoide but the chieftain
of a clan or little tribe. The clan or tribe he belongs to is called the Wasage. We’re kind of
honour members of his tribe and he helped us several times. It seems he’s in trouble and
now it’s our obligation to support him, too.’
Ed Arn reflected on the newly changed situation for a moment. ‘But you don’t forget that
we agreed on you showing me peculiar, special lifeforms, do you?’ he then said,
expressing a little disappointment.
‘Oh, don’t you worry about that’, Ross tried to put his new patron’s mind at ease. ‘The
Wasage tribe has been roaming around here for centuries, two or three hundred years at
least, and they know the region quite well. You’ll have access to all the knowledge of his
tribe about all the most peculiar and unique creatures in that part of the galaxy. Those
Varanoides strictly adhere to reciprocity in their dealings and the Wasage are an extreme
case even among that alien race. If you help them, you don’t have to worry about them
helping you. They’ll go over to top to pay you back with interest. Very honourable they
are!’
Ed Arn decided that is was the best thing to be content for the moment. Out here, matters
had different meanings. While written contracts, laws and regulations may count a lot on
the civilised planets, here in the wild openness of the galaxy’s free areas others rules
prevailed. It was best adhering to them. And then, what could he lose? Gaining access to
the biological knowledge of a whole tribe would be a tremendous asset, possibly earning
him tons of gold.
Ross Stark saw that Ed Arn had been contemplating for some moments. He thought it
wise to provide his patron with more information about whom they were expecting.
‘Achesh Akanem is only our way to pronounce his name’, Ross said about the soon to
arrive Varanoide. ‘In his own language, it sounds a bit different but hardly any human can
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speak that Wasage dialect well. I know enough to communicate decently with them and
daily matters can be discussed with sufficient fidelity to the intended meaning. But
because Achesh Akanem speaks our lingua franca quite well, talking to him is much more
of a pleasure; much less demanding. Achesh Akanem is a very brave and experienced
warrior and leader. He’s no real enemy of the humans, although the Wasage tribe are
among the wildest constituent of the anyway very much untamed Sho group of tribes. Of
all the Varanoide tribes, the Sho belong to those who are most difficult to handle. They
not evil but take great pride in their honour and reputation and defend that to the last,
upon the least incident. As I mentioned before, they are extreme in the reciprocity of their
attitude towards other. You cause them a little of offence or trouble and they give you
double; and more. If you’re friendly to them, they will be just lovely to you, the most loyal
allies you can imagine. But because our races are so different, misunderstandings are easy
to come by and then are followed by severe complications.’
Soon after Ross Stark had ended his introduction of Achesh Akanem and the tribe and
tribal group he belonged to, the Varanoide appeared in person. For an alien of that his
species he was of average height and above-average muscularity. Varanoides did not
store any significant amount of fat in their bodies. Instead of carrying an energy-storage
around, this species made do with the ability to reduce their energy consumption; like
voluntary hibernation. Therefore, Achesh Akanem looked very lean, like all the members
of his race. His white ritual attire was torn and soiled with blood. Varanoide blood was red,
like human blood and it relied on iron atoms as the functional core of the oxygen
transport system, too. The alien chieftain did not carry any weapons. When the Varanoide
had almost approached the three human adventurers, they could see that the scaled skin
at his wrists was lacerated.
Despite his bad condition, Achesh Akanem appeared calm and composed. He greeted Ross
Stark and Honourable Boman in the general human fashion. He was speaking the standard
human lingua franca without any accent; like upper-class descendant after graduating
from the most expensive private universities.
‘With great pleasure I recognised the voice and appearance of my dear friends and I am
very glad of meeting you here’, he said with the aura of a perfect gentleman. As much as it
needed getting used to seeing such big, muscular, red-scaled, and claw-armoured creature,
the more it was surprising to see such a born predator behave and talk like a perfect
gentleman. But then, according to the description that Ross Stark had just given, Achesh
Akanem was a perfect gentleman.
Contrary to his customary silence, Honourable Boman spoke some words. He addresses
them to Achesh Akanem. Arn could not understand anything but it sounded somehow
distantly similar to the Varanoide that he had heard earlier, at very different occasions. So,
Ed assumed Boman to be speaking in a Varanoide language with the alien tribal chieftain.
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Ross Stark then introduces Ed Arn to Achesh Akanem. ‘This gentleman is a new friend of
ours’, he announced. ‘We recommend him to you and your tribe’, he added benevolently.
Achesh Akanem now also greeted Ed Arn in the customary human way. Then, the alien
declared: ‘I am the friend of every good and host human. The robbers, murderers, and
desecrators of corpses shall face the wrath of my claws, though!’
‘You encountered such bad people?’ Stark asked.
‘Yes’, Achesh Akanem confirmed. ‘And you will meet them soon, too, because they are
following me!’
‘For their own good they should not’, Ross retorted. ‘How many are they’, he then asked
when on second thought it came to his mind that his confidence could be premature
because he wasn’t aware of the strength and number of the enemies.
‘Unfortunately, I don’t really know that’, the alien tribal chieftain answered. ‘I can only
guess their number, because when they must have notices my absconding, I already had a
good lead over them. From how it felt in hyperspace, there should be not more than a
dozen of them following me. That’s only based on my sense of their influence on the
streams, though.’
‘But who would dare taking the great chieftain Achesh Akanem prisoner and then even
want to kill him?’ Stark wanted to know in astonishment about the foul deed. Such
actions were certain to entail severe revenge from other Varanoides, even if the
perpetrators got through with their initial depravation.
‘They’re humans’, the alien replied. ‘There are many of them and they are getting more all
the time. They are what you call gangsters’, Achesh Akanem reported.
‘We also realised that there is an influx of such foul creatures into this area of the galaxy’,
Stark affirmed. ‘But where they are all coming from we do not know and what they all
want here in this remote location we do not understand either. Where are they now, by
the way?’ Ross enumerated his ignorance of the reasons and causes that had brought
about the issues that he and his comrade had already realised, too.
‘They are assembling at a place that you know as Wasage Ankyun’, Achesh Akanem told.
‘We also call it Candra Kornara because one of our greatest chieftains had been murdered
there together with his bravest warriors. Every time when the moon of Wasage Ankyun
has gone through thirteen full cycles, the chieftain of the Wasage tribe will go to that
place together with twelve of best warriors to perform rites to hour the deaths’, the alien
explicated. ‘Like every time when these rites are dues, I took the twelve braves warriors of
my tribe and took off for Wasage Ankyun. We reached there in time. We did perceive any
traces of previous travel in the hyperspace currents leading there. Thus, we believed us
alone and thought that we could perform our rites in peace, undisturbed by anyone. We
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were wrong. Suddenly, when we were in the middle of performing the rites, a large
number of gangsters savagely attacked us. They descended on us like the furious Valkyries
of your legend. We were so engrossed in our rites that we perceived the enemies only
when it was far too late; and they out-numbered by the hundred-fold anyway. They shot
eight of us. Despite being surprised, we fought back hard and killed several of them. I and
four other warriors were overpowered by the attackers’ sheer number. They set up what
they called a court and sentenced us to death. We were to be tortured to their pleasure
till we would succumb to the wounds and maltreatment. To keep us for the event, they
bound us to trees; all apart from each other. I could not see where my other warriors
were and in what condition. The gangsters then started digging up the site to find some
burial object which they hoped to find. From our ceremony they had concluded that there
might be a cemetery and they thought it should contain treasures. The rope they used to
bind me to the tree was no match for my claws, though I had to use force to free my arms
enough to use them and reach the rope. In that process, the rope lacerated my wrists
down to the bone at some spots but ultimately I could free myself. I used a moment when
the guarding gangsters had gone away and absconded silently. I tried to find my warriors
and wanted to free them but they were too much under scrutiny for me to reach them.
Therefore, I took a hopper and fled with the intention to call the rest of my tribe and
finish that matter; once and for all.
‘What about those four of your warriors who remained there on Wasage Ankyun?’
Honourable Boman asked.
‘I suppose that they’re still there’, Achesh Akanem replied. ‘The gangsters will either have
killed them already of they are still prisoners. I don’t think that the gangsters have moved
them away to some other planet.’
‘Yes, if you had tried to free them you would just have fallen in captivity again and that
would be of benefit to nobody’, Honourable Boman again spoke.
‘That’s unfortunately the truth’, the alien tribal chieftain admitted. ‘I would have just died
with them. Now, I was in a hopper and wanted to reach the nearest camp of my tribe but I
found that the machine that I had taken wasn’t in good shape. I expected it to break down
soon. I thought about any location that was close by and where I could get help, like
either support to free my warriors or a new hopper to reach my tribe. Thus, I decided to
fly to Sherbetor’s Plantation. The owner is a friend of mine and it’s the place closest b
where I could expect to receive support. But as you can see, the hopper broke down
earlier. I could only reach this world here, than it conked out.’
‘Shall we lend you one of our hoppers so that you can quickly to Sherbetor’s Plantation?’
Ross Stark asked. ‘You can have mine immediately!’
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‘Thank you very much for your kindness’, the Varanoide replied. ‘It will be a futile
endeavour, though’, he regretted. ‘The hyperspace stream passing by here felt like as if a
rhino had tried to use the cat flap. My rotten hopper disturbed it even more. Its dampers
and stabilisers are in shambles. They gave me a hard ride and they equally badly
chamfered the hyperspace current I came through. For some reason this current was in a
bad shape before me passing through. After my passage, it needed time to recover. That’s
why I guess that the gangsters hunting me will take some more time to arrive here,
possibly up to one hour. They will only be able to pass through that narrow hyperspace
stream leading here once it will have recovered again.’
None of the three adventurers told the Achesh Akanem that they had damaged this local
hyperspace current so much. Stark and Boman didn’t say anything because they felt
embarrassed and Arn kept quiet to avoid embarrassing them even more. It wasn’t
considered to be a heroic deed to damage a hyperspace current. It usually happened to
unexperienced pilots only, who tried to squeeze through narrow streams. Anyway,
ultimately, it might even lead to something good that this one here was now in a bad
shape: the gangsters would come late. On the other hand, it prevented Achesh Akanem to
rush on and reach Sherbetor’s Plantation or his tribe.
‘With a good hopper, it takes at least six hours from here to Sherbetor’s Plantation’, Ross
Stark demurred. ‘With a mediocre hopper it will take much longer, not to mention a
dilapidated canker’, he estimated. ‘Even if you could get out of here, you hardly could
manage to get forth and back in time to rescue your fellow tribesmen’, Stark evaluated
the situation.
‘I guess that the murder of my warriors will be postponed till the gangsters also have me
back, because they want to kill all of us’, the Varanoide chieftain presumed. ‘I guess they
will try to catch me first and then proceed. Thus, my main task is not to get caught. Then, I
should mobilise help for them as fast as possible.’
‘That may or may not be the case that the gangsters will wait with the murder of your
fellow tribesmen’, Ross Stark opined. ‘But for you it will not be required anymore to reach
Sherbetor’s Plantation because we will come along with you to liberate your warriors’, he
promised.
Achesh Akanem was delighted. ‘That much you would do for me?’ he asked for
reconfirmation of the friendly proposal of support.
‘Of course!’ Ross replied and Honourable fell in and nodded. ‘You and your tribe are our
friends and you helped us a lot already. Now, it’s our turn to support you.’
‘But altogether we are just the four of us and they are so many’, replied the Varanoide
tribal chieftain.
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In that moment, Ed Arn realised that he was into it, too. Implicitly, everybody had
assumed that he would also join the rescue mission. He was a collector of extreme
lifeforms, not a warrior. Lots of thoughts went through his mind in these very few
moments. Finally, he came to the conclusion that it was best not to try dropping out here.
Making friends with a whole tribe or Varanoides could serve him very well in the future.
Thus, it was better go along and get through with it.
It was the talkative Ross Stark dragged Ed Arn out of his deep thoughts with his next
words. ‘You know me’, he said to the alien chieftain. ‘You don’t think that it’s my
intention to attack all those gangsters frontally. Four cunning brains should be able to find
a way to infiltrate such a great bulk of gangsters. It’s impossible that they all know each
other by face and name’, he proudly started scheming. ‘What do you say about this plan’,
he addressed Honourable Boman. It wasn’t actually a plan, rather the beginning of a first
idea for the inception of a plan, but Honourable Boman still agreed fully: ‘Great plan!’, he
asserted.
Then, finally, Ed Arn was also asked. Thus, they had not forgotten him. What should he
say? He was just a collector of the peculiar and special. Well, not just, he was more, but
that’s what he said: ‘I’m just an adventurer who is looking for the most extreme lifeforms,
from the smallest to the biggest, but I also have a great sense of justice and I always stand
by my friends. It will be a great honour for me to help restore justice!’
Chieftain Achesh Akanem looked at Ed Arn with astonishment. He had never before seen
a person like this; and he had seen many humans. Varanoides enjoyed a comparatively
high life expectancy. If they avoided accidents, murder, and other such risk factors, they
could reach two hundred years of age and still be healthy. And when life finally ended for
them, it usually ended fast.
‘Those I will show you in plenty’, the red-scaled alien answered. ‘I will have my whole
tribe tell you about all the most extreme lifeforms that we all ever since found anywhere’,
Achesh Akanem promised, much to Ed Arn’s joy. Thus, all had gone well till now; at least
when it came to words. If actions were to follow the commitment, the future would have
to tell.
‘We’ll need a hopper for the chieftain’, the usually quiet Honourable Boman said.
‘I’m waiting for the order to be delivered’, his old companion Stark replied.
‘Where do you want to get a hopper from, now and here?’ Boman wanted to know, being
slightly puzzled.
‘Of course from the chieftain’s chasers’, Ross answered. ‘He said they were following him
suit. Then, with the breakdown by overload of the narrow hyperspace current here, they
were being delayed by about one hour. Now, with our talk, it’s still more than forty
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minutes left to prepare. Once we’re done with them, they won’t need their hoppers
anymore and we can chose whatever fits us best. Our own hoppers we can’t take because
we have only three of them and they’re all full.’
‘That makes sense’, Boman endorsed the plan his companion had just sketched out.
‘Achesh Akanem had no weapons’, he then observed. That was correct. The Varanoide
had white, torn attire that was soiled with blood. Wearing such dress was uncommon for
Varanoides. Having blood on them was less uncommon, though. They were predators and
out here in the free areas of the galaxy many of them lived according to their instincts. He
had no weapons, though, and for the impending events the possession of guns seemed
advisable.
‘Here I can help’, Ed Arn stepped into the breach. ‘I happen to have a few in my hopper.’
He expected the forthcoming action to turn serious and he understandably wanted to
improve his chances of victory. Having seen the long but also obviously long standing rifles
of Ross Stark and Honourable Boman, Arn preferred to lend the Varanoide one of his guns.
He also offered the two scouts to use some of his weapons but these gentlemen declined.
They insisted that their rifles were good and that they knew them very well. That
mattered much, because even a good shooter needed to get used to a new weapon first
before he could use it well; normally at least.
‘We should hide our hoppers’, Ed Arn suggested. ‘We should not let the chieftain’s
persecutor know that we’re here. They may follow his hopper’s trail and find the
destroyed machine. They should believe him to be alone.’
The others agreed. There was a grove not very far from their current location. Ed Arn had
camouflage nets in his hopper. About a quarter of an hour later, their three functional
space flight devices had disappeared in that grove and the adventurers were back to the
grassland near the downed hopper.
Ed Arn introduced the Varanoide chieftain to the use of the weapon that he gave him. In
return, the alien chieftain told him what meaning his white attire had. On the hope planet
of the Varanoide race, about anything was red. The majority of the rock was red and
therefore sand and dust were also red. The sun shining at this world was a red star, too.
It’s light had some other components, too, but the dominant wavelength corresponded to
the colour red. The Varanoides themselves were also red, at least on the outside. About
the only things that were not red were bones. Bones of Varanoides where white; like most
bones of most creatures. Thus, white had become the colour of death in the Varanoide
culture. The dress worn for the rituals to honour the deaths were spun from the fibres of a
tree that these aliens grew for that only purpose: to make that special attire. Appropriate
as such a white dress might be for rites commemorating the deaths; in a gun fight such
bright attire would attract exactly what it was to symbolise: death. To avoid that, Ed Arn
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gave the red-scaled alien chieftain some camouflage gear. It fulfilled its purpose, though it
looked terrible. Camouflage paint did the rest.
Ross Stark saw the useful efforts that Arn made to help them secure victory with great
pleasure and also with astonishment. ‘You seem to be well experiences with these
matters. Are you really here for the first time?’ Ross asked.
‘So I am’, Ed replied. ‘I came through some other places where it was useful to take care of
myself, though’, he told vaguely without mentioning any such location by name.
‘I see’, Stark said. ‘We won’t have to worry about you. I guess, that you will actually prove
to be crucial for our success’, he judged.
Then, the four of them quickly discussed their approach. All should depend on the
behaviour of the gangsters. Ed Arn did not like the idea of shooting them from an
ambuscade but the others favoured precisely that course of events. It was about them or
us, they claimed. Achesh Akanem certainly had a reason to kill the gangsters and the
other two adventurers might have found theirs in the sworn allegiance to their ally. For
Arn, the matter looked different because he was ultimately here for the money only. He
had no personal issues with the gangsters and had no revenge to fulfil. Still, he was
somehow involved and found it difficult to get out. He found, that he could not get away
without severe personal disadvantages. At the end, he came back to his earlier conclusion
to just go through with it; get it over and reap the benefits and don’t worry about the rest.
Soon, it was time to occupy the advantageous positions. They gangsters were expected to
arrive at the site where the hopper of Achesh Akanem had come down. The little space
vessel was highly visible. The four fighters of the welcoming committee had positioned
themselves on four favourable locations on the surrounding hills.
The Varanoide chieftain had estimated the time till the likely arrival of the gangsters with
a generous margin of security. The result was that all four fighters lying in ambush
remained there waiting for some time. It was boring to brood motionless under a
camouflage net, additionally covered with grass and some mud.
While he was lying there in the hip-high grass, under the camouflage net, in military
fatigue gear, with mud-like looking paint in his face, Ed Arn thought about the words of
his hew companions. Such rogues didn’t deserve any lenience, they had told him. The
gangsters killed eight Varanoides without any reason and that was proof enough of the
danger they posed, his new scouts had told him. We can’t take them prisoner, they had
opined, because we can’t carry them along with us. Releasing them wasn’t possible either,
because they’d alarm their fellow criminals. For about a quarter of an hour, Ed Arn was
lying there, brooding under the camouflage and over the meaning of it all. He fully
understood the tactical necessities. He just abhorred being in such a situation.
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Then, finally, the gangsters came. The sky was still clear and blue and the hoppers came
down like carrier pigeons, so peaceful and without fear; not even caution. Had that been a
military operation, those incoming objects had never even made it that far. If those were
the gangsters, they must have felt absolutely safe and secure. They believed to know that
their intended prey had no weapons, thought the Varanoide to be entirely helpless,
wounded, weakened by loss of blood, maybe hungry and thirsty. They didn’t have any
clue that some very different fate could await them, that they might turn from predator to
prey in no time.
Altogether five hopes came down and landed close to the broken vessel that Achesh
Akanem had used to flee. Five rogues exited and started investigating the Varanoide’s
getaway vehicle. They soon found the tracks that the claw-bearing feet of the alien had
left on the soft ground. The one who had seen the track first called the others and they
came to follow the traces to hunt the tribal chieftain down.
Soon, the five gangsters were precisely where they should be to render perfect prey. In a
military operation, they would have faced their end in exactly this moment. But they were
gangsters on the way to commit yet another crime and the four beings laying in ambush
were not in the military and had no order to shoot. It was their own decision to pull the
trigger or not. Ed Arn and the Varanoide, who both had a good understanding of tactics,
were looking through the telescopic sight of their rifles. Arn had brought very comfortable
weapons that came with double tripods. He had given one such gun to the alien. It was
only necessary to determine the target and the weapon would do the rest. Both Ed and
the chieftain had already designated all five targets. They were filed as such in the fire
control computer of their guns. If the trigger was pulled, the deadly devices would
calculate the best shooting order, swiftly move the guns to aim well and automatically
release the fatal projectiles. Demise was a matter of mathematics, physics; just
elementary.
Nobody pulled the trigger. Not even Achesh Akanem pulled the trigger of the
sophisticated fully automatic gun that Ed Arn had given him, even though he had most
reason to wipe out the gangsters. The villains had killed eight of his warrior without prior
provocation and they were following him to murder him, too. They were not even of his
own species. Yet, he did not shoot. Ross Stark who had advocated most vehemently that
the tactical situation demanded the final neutralisation of the gangsters did not pull the
trigger of his rifle either. Ed Arn, the cool, calculating, money-minded adventurer did not
shoot. The gangsters were in an ideal position to be slain. The four fellows of the villains’
welcome committee were hiding in the perfect ambuscade to finish off their enemies. Yet
they did not kill them. Through their high-powered telescopic sights devices, Ed Arn and
Achesh Akanem could see the pimple on the nose of one gangster. They could see the
diagonal scar on the cheek of another. They could see the little abrasion on the forehead
of a third villain. They saw the wrinkles around the tired eyes of an older gangster. They
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saw the golden earring of the fifth shining in the sun and they recognised the pattern on
his silk neckerchief, a floral pattern of dark green on dark violet. Ed Arn had experience
with similar situation but at that time, he had been under the command of some superior
or he had been threatened in person. The responsibility hadn’t been his. He had acted on
order or on self-defence in all those situations. Now, it would be entirely his decision to
dispatch the deadly projectiles. Achesh Akanem was a hunter and warrior. He had been in
many such situations before. But he hesitated. He felt that the first shot should be from
one member of the other, the human race, not from an alien species.
Then, suddenly and very unexpectedly, Ross Stark shouted: ‘Stop! Don’t moves or you will
be shot!
The gangsters looked around but could not see anyone. Ross had dug a little pit for
himself and covered his face, shoulders, arms and gun so well, that the villains could not
see him. His voice was only to be heard because there was no other source of sound,
except for the soft whisper of the gentle air tenderly fondling the high grass. That soft
wind was going from Stark’s position toward the gangster, increasing the reach of his
voice.
The gangsters were surprised. They looked around but could not see anyone. Stark
remained covered, lying flat and low in his dug-out ditch. Still, the situation for him and
the three other adventurers waiting in ambush had become much more dangerous.
Previously, the gangsters had moved around as if they were at home in their own house’
living room. Now, they were warned. Earlier, they believed to be hunting an un-armed
alien. Now, they knew that there was at least one armed human here, too.
The gangsters soon recovered their composure again. ‘Hey, what kind of clandestine
mugger are you, hiding there on the nowhere?’ their frontman shouted back. He was
already cheeky again but he and his comrades kept their weapons in harmless positions.
That much respect they had for an enemy whom they could not see. ‘Show yourself and
tell us upon what right you hold us up!’ the villains’ frontman demanded.
‘The good right of any man to know who’s coming his way’, Ross Stark called back. It was
already much too much shouting. Achesh Akanem and Ed Arn both felt bad about it, yet
they still did not start the shooting. Had they been at the villains’ position, they’d have
pinpointed the caller after just a few words; the experienced alien would have known his
whereabouts after only two or three called-out words.
‘We’re also men, ain’t we?’ the gangsters’ frontman insisted. ‘If you’re an honest
gentleman, show yourself.
‘Certainly I’m an honest man and I’m ready to face you!’ Ross Stark gave back. Then he
raised himself. Standing straight, he shouted: ’Here I am!’. Then he dropped to the ground.
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The gangsters raised their weapons. Their heads exploded; all five of them. Some other
projectiles hit their bodies. If Ed Arn or Achesh Akanem had pulled the trigger first,
nobody ever asked. The automated weapons had executed their task with efficiency. Five
shots had come from each. Stark and Honourable Boman had also fired some rounds. Ross
was probably the last of the four to shoot, despite being the first to call for it as a tactical
necessity. After calling ‘here I am’, he had already seen the villains raising their guns. He
let himself drop down into the ditch that he had dug for himself. When he was again
ready to aim at the villains, they already had no heads anymore. He shot or round or two
into their falling bodies and a couple more in their corpses when they were already down
on the ground. He wasn’t a murderer. He had tried to save them by negotiation. When
thinking about tactics before the action, before the gangsters had landed and before he
could see their faces, his thoughts had been all rational. When he looked into human eyes,
he didn’t have the heart to just wipe them out. He thought that if they let their weapons
down, it might be sufficient to leave them behind on this planet. They’d be kind of
imprisoned here, too. Taking their best hopper and destroying the others would be like
locking them into a prison cell and throwing the key away. Only from the outside they
could be freed again. But, his attempt had been in vain.
There was no danger anymore for the four fighters. They stood up from their positions
and walked down from the hilltops toward the valley ground. Because the Varanoide
tribal chieftain’s downed hopper was there, the villains had also landed there. Because
the alien’s tracks lead them along the valley ground, they had walked there, right into the
trap that killed them. Ed Arn and Achesh Akanem wondered how stupid the villains had
behaved. They also wondered how improvident Ross Stark had acted. They said nothing,
though. There was no using in scolding him for his sudden seizure of conscience. Probably,
Ross was now at odds with himself deeply enough, worrying about what had happened to
him during these crucial moments. But then, the alien and the biological sample collector
hadn’t shot first either.
When they had all walked down to the site where the slain villains were lying, they
inspected the dead bodies. Achesh Akanem looked at the headless corpses with
appreciation. ‘You have great weapons!’ he told Ed Arn. ‘Lightweight, powerful, capable of
rapid yet precise fire, excellent guns these are.’
Arn nodded. ‘That’s why I took them along on my travel’, he answered.
‘Would you sell this one to me?’ the alien chieftain requested. ‘I would pay very well.’
Ed Arn took a moment to answer. He remembered what Ross Stark had told him. The
Varanoides were accustomed to a very reciprocal culture. In the Sho group of Varanoide
tribes that behaviour was especially pronounced. The Wasage tribe was the most extreme
of them in this respect of reciprocity in dealing. The gun that the alien chieftain admired
was valuable, but it may be worth the expenditure to hand it over.
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‘We just fought a skirmish together’, Ed Arn thus answered. ‘How could I demand money
in return for the wish of a close ally? Please do me the favour and accept it as a present.’
Those turned out to be precisely the right words to use. The Varanoide chieftain was very
happy and he showed it. He held the gun like precious jewellery and adored it.
Ross Stark and Honourable Boman were in the meantime searching the dead villains. They
took anything useable from them and looked for hints that could tell what the gangsters
were up to on Wasage Ankyun. And actually, Honourable Boman found a small piece of
paper with some names on it. He looked at them, read on after the other and then, with
astonishment in his voice, called out for his friend Ross: ‘See here, there is your name
written on a list!’ The letters on the paper were hand written. On top of the list, four
words stood: ‘Dangerous self-righteous troublemakers’.
When Stark saw the paper, he was surprise. ‘This fellow knew my name’, he repeated the
obvious. But when I saw him through the binocular, I did not have the impression that I
knew him. I did not remember having seen any of them before.’ He paused for a moment,
thinking and looking at nowhere with empty eyes. ‘Well, maybe he had heard my name
from somebody and had never seen me in person’, he concluded. ‘Anyway, we had
nothing goo to expect from all of them. So we shouldn’t grieve too much for them. Who
knows how many further crimes we prevented by taking them out with our ambush. At
least, we have a hopper now for the chieftain and we can go to Wasage Ankyun to free his
four warriors.’
‘We have four hoppers now’, the otherwise so silent Honourable Boman interjected. ‘But
we will have to take along four more Varanoides. They are anyway bigger than we
humans and three of our hoppers are very full with all kind of stuff. How will we handle
that, even if we can free them?’
‘We could grab four more hoppers on Wasage Ankyun’, Ross Stark answered.
‘That would add another task to our mission’, Achesh Akanem said sceptically. ‘We are
four facing legions of villains. Any additional challenge endangers the whole mission. It
will be difficult enough liberating my warriors. Shouldn’t we better empty the hoppers,
leave the stuff here and then later collect it?’ he suggested.
Ed Arn did not like the idea of leaving his valuables here on this planet. The content of the
others’ hoppers might be of huge value for them, but probably had limited monetary
worth. His customised New Triumph Hyper Rocket X was already loaded with precious
findings and his remaining equipment. It wasn’t even so much the gear that constituted
the worth of that payload but the samples of extreme species that he had collected. ‘We
could couple the four empty hoppers to ours by setting their cruise controls on passive
following. They’d just imitate any movement that we do. We’d lead and they’d follow’, Ed
Arn proposed.
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‘Given the size of our bodies, it might be useful to have a single hopper for each of my
warriors’, the alien tribal chieftain agreed.
‘We’ll have to see if those hoppers cruise control systems can handle the task’, Stark said.
‘We’ll have to see if the local hyperspace current recovered sufficiently to sustain that
many hoppers to travel through’, the Varanoide indicated.
‘If we adjust the dampers and all the other suspension parts to maximum soft, we could
reduce the load burden that we put on the hyperspace current. It would last longer, break
down less easily’, Ed Arn estimated. ‘When I came here, the hyperspace current that I
used was good enough for three hoppers with cautious pilots. The gangsters made it here
with five machines. Their certainly distorted the flow again. But then, if we max out
softness, travel slow through the narrow path here, keep the application of energy to a
minimum, we might well make I with all eight hoppers.’
‘I guess the current will sustain it in some time, once it has recovered’, the Varanoide
assented. ‘My tribe has been in this region for long and we know the hyperspace currents
here very well. They are frail but recover at a good rate.’ Then, looking around from one
to the other, the alien chieftain hesitated as if something threatened to embarrass him.
‘We normally use different types of hoppers’, he finally said. ‘Is anyone familiar with
these?’ he asked, pointing to the gangsters’ machines.
Despite being an average taller and broader and heavier than humans, most Varanoides
usually preferred smaller hoppers than those favoured by humans. The red-scaled aliens
were not in the habit of carrying man things around with them. Therefore, smaller
hoppers were sufficient for their needs. With these the Varanoides could travel along
smaller, narrower hyperspace streams, where the humans with their bigger hoppers
couldn’t ride. Even in currents where the bigger types preferred by humans could get
through, the red aliens in their little swift mobiles were faster, because their machines
caused lower load entry to the hyperspace currents, disturbing them less.
Humans, on the other hand, loved to have lots of more or less needful things, supplied,
spares, replenishments, and reserves of food, water, oxygen, and what not all else with
them. They often stuffed their hoppers to the max. In times of emergencies, they typically
discovered that it was precisely what they needed now that they did not have; or could
not find, at least not fast enough. Having lots of tools, for example, that wonderfully fitted
a hopper, though of a different type, was rarely of help. Anyway, as descendants of
hunter gatherers, they still loved to gather things. The Varanoides, as pure predators,
were different in that respect; and in many others, too, as could be expected from an alien
race. In some ways, though, they were very similar to humans. One such likeness was
their desire to keep the face, to avoid embarrassment.
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‘No worries’, Ed Arn reassured the tribal chieftain. ‘I’m well accustomed with these.
They’re old models but I know them well.’
‘You may know them well with the specification they had when they left the factory’,
Honourable Boman interposed. ‘These ones have probably been changed a bit because
that’s what we do out here’, he pointed out. ‘We should look at them together, if you
don’t mind, because that could prove constructive.’
Ed Arn had no objections and they did as Honourable Boman had suggested. It soon
turned out that Boman was right. Three of the gangsters’ hoppers had been bungled
around with extensively. Two were in rather good condition, with one of them being quite
fine as it apparently had been maintained according to the prescribed standards of the
maker. The other one had at least been in the care of somebody who knew well what he
was doing. All five captured hoppers were good enough to fly, though. After all, they also
had also made it here.
Once the hoppers were all configured to ride as softly as only possible, Achesh Akanem
called the others together to some sandy place near the little creek that was flowing
through vale. He took a stick and made a few little circles in the sand and drew some lines.
‘As I know the region very well, I would like to tell you the best way to reach Candra
Kornara, or Wasage Ankyun, as you call it. We should arrive there when evening has set in
at the location where my warriors are being held captive.’ With these words, the
Varanoide draw a large circle. ‘That’s Wasage Ankyun’. He made a dent in the
sand. ’That’s where my people are.’ He drew some lines into that big circle. ’That’s a
mountain range with steep, deep valleys. If we descend on the one side and cross it
keeping low, going along the gorges, we’ll stay under the radar. I presume that the
gangsters will maintain a minimum level of security, keep a few patrols flying around their
big camp. Security will most likely not be well organised and disciplined but we should try
to avoid accidental encounters.’ Then, Achesh Akanem drew some others lines between
some other dents he had made in the sand. ‘That’s the planet where we’re now’, he
explained while pointing to one such dent. ‘That’s Candra Kornara, or Wasage Ankyun,
where we want to go.’ He drew one line connecting them. ‘That’s the most obvious
hyperspace route, which I and the gangsters all took when we came here.’ The alien
chieftain let the stick run over the sand again. ‘That’s an alternative route. It departs from
the main path here and leads to Candra Kornara, or your Wasage Ankyun, from the other
side. We should take this one. It will most likely less frequented or not used at all. You see,
there are several hyperspace currents that people can use to get to Wasage Ankyun but
the route does not bring anyone in from far away. There is no reason for anyone coming
from far away to use it because it’s longer and takes more time. For our purpose, it should
be fine, though.’
The suggestion was agreed upon immediately. It was a good plan. Then, something else
bothered Ross Stark. ‘What about the dead bodies?’ he asked.
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‘Let's just keep them lying there. Or perhaps you feel desire to let a burying place be dug
or even a mausoleum be built for these scoundrels? May they be buried in the stomach of
some local carrion eating scavenger or turned to dust by bacteria, more is not theirs!’ the
Varanoide scolded him.
‘I thought of not leaving traces’, Stark retreated.
‘What traces don’t you want to leave?’ the alien chieftain asked. ‘There are twenty to
thirty litres of blood spilled here and the debris of their heads are all over the place, with
some other body tissue adding to that. There are imprints of their hopper’s feet and there
are the tracks that we left. You’d have to dig off the earth all around here and then you’d
have a sizeable crater’, the Varanoide told. ‘There is no way of obscuring these traces’, he
asserted.
Maybe that was a hard speech, not even willing to give dignity to the death, but the wild,
free areas of the galaxy has their own kind of ethics. In an area where anywhere death
and destruction were looming, any individual with the will to survive was forced to take
into account first and foremost only himself. The tough circumstances gave rise to the
necessity of avoiding anything that put one’s personal safety at risk. Had the four
adventurers want to dwell on the corpses to bury them and hold funeral rites over the
corpses, then this would have been a pernicious waste of time, which perhaps could cost
the adventurers dearly. For the captured Wasage tribe Varanoides such a celebration of
funeral rituals would almost certainly have endangered their lives.
Therefore, nothing of that sort was done and the four adventurers took off in their
hoppers. They left one by one, always followed by an empty hopper that had been
programmed to follow suits, mimicking all the leader’s manoeuvres. They entered
hyperspace soon and then cautiously moved along the narrow, frail current till they came
to the junction that Achesh Akanem had described. Because they had to travel slowly
during the first part of their journey, it took them almost ten hours to complete the whole
stretch. For the Varanoide chieftain that meant a total of more than two days without any
sleep but with significant loss of blood. His wounds he could treat only rudimentary. Ed
Arn have given him some medical supplies that he had in his well-furnished hopper but
because of the very different physiology, only the bandages and some disinfectant could
be applied. The use of pre-emptive broad-band antibiotics wasn’t possible because
neither Ed Arn nor Achesh Akanem knew how the alien’s body would react to them.
It was already well into the evening at the place of the intended descent on planet
Wasage Ankyun. The four adventurers came down on one side of the big mountain range
that the Varanoide chieftain had described earlier. They arrived on the western side,
where big clouds had accumulated. They used the cover of those clouds to come down
and then crossed the mountain range along the steep ravines, always keeping low.
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The four adventurers landed in safe distance from the gangsters’ camp in a forest
between some high trees. At this location, the sun had long disappeared and the shadows
of the night had flooded the vales and covered the hills and enveloped the whole earth in
their dark robe. The sky was overcast and cloudless. Everybody wore night vision goggles
and carried several weapons. Cautiously securing their way, they percolated through the
dense and dark wood. The night vision devices included infrared detection capabilities.
That useful feature allowed to spot endothermic from far and even register their traces of
warmth, if they had passed by just recently. There were only very few local animals
around in that forest, though. Occasionally, the adventurers could hear some hopper
rushing along over the crows of the trees. Those most likely were not security patrols run
by the gangsters but incoming villains who were to join the meeting.
After some time of carefully crossing the pristine jungle, the Varanoide signalled his
human allies to halt. He indicated that he had heard something non-natural. The
adventurers became even more cautious in their movements and now also secured their
back. So close to the villains’ camp there could be others roaming around in those woods,
too. To everybody’s relieve, there was no stranger to be seen but still, the regular
circumspection was maintained.
Achesh Akanem indicated with hand signals that he wanted to get closer to the camp
alone to do the needed scouting. He trusted that he could move more silently than his
human companions. The Varanoide chieftain swiftly disappeared and it took about half an
hour till he returned. Despite their night vision goggles with infrared detection capabilities,
the human allies noticed his return only once he was almost right among them.
‘So?’ Ross Stark whispered. ‘Any news?’
‘Many more gangsters came’, the red-scaled chieftain reported. ‘Many, many more!’
‘Seems they’re having a grand meeting here’, Ross Stark concluded. ‘Woe betide any good
people all around here’, he apprehended. ‘Did you hear anything?
‘There are many campfires and the whole grassland in front of the forest is full of
gangsters’, the Achesh Akanem told his allies.
‘Anything else?’
‘On one place, there was a particularly large bonfire. Many gangsters were eagerly
listening to one fellow who was holding a speech. Because he seemed to be somebody of
importance, I zoomed in on him with the binocular. I saw a man standing on slightly
alleviated ground near the bonfire. He was tall and thin, clean-shaven, had sharp and
pointed features and fiery red hair’, the Varanoide reported.
‘What did he talk about? Did you understand him?
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The alien tribal chieftain nodded. ‘We have excellent ears and the man was almost
shouting’, he recounted. ‘My intention was to find my warriors, though, and therefore my
concentration wasn’t on that big-mouthed fellow for long. Thus, I noticed only little of
what he said.’
‘So, could you tell us at least about the little that you noticed?’
‘He claimed that all gangsters were brothers and that they should cooperate to become
rich quick’, the Varanoide repeated the villain’s speech with his own words. ‘He spoke
about a plan that would get them all a fortune each. They should just follow his advice
and execute his design. Then, all would go well for them.’
‘What else? Any details?’
‘I did not pay further attention to his words’, the alien chieftain recounted. He understood
that his human allies considered that information valuable and he was sorry that he could
not provide them with many more details. Then, Achesh Akanem remembered something
more. ‘He further-on spoke of the large full cashbox of some shipping company, which
must be empty. But then I have not heard his words anymore, because I smelled the place
where are my Indian brothers. You know, we Varanoides have very good noses.’
‘Where are your warriors? Did you go there?’
‘My people are being kept close to a little fire at the edge of the forest’, the Varanoide
chieftain told his human allies. ‘My warriors are bound to trees that are standing in a
semicircle. In the middle of that semicircle is a small fireplace, made of stones, with a little
wood fire burning there. Four villains are lingering around that campfire, keeping
themselves warm.’
‘So, it’s easy to sneak up?’
‘Yes, it is’, the alien chieftain confirmed. ‘Even I alone could get very close. They have
installed a few primitive motion alarm device. I could possibly get around them alone but
it’s much safer if you help me’, the Varanoide estimated. That estimation implied a
request for help, which he did not put forward but nevertheless hoped to be granted.
‘Of course we’ll come along and help you and them’, all human adventurers agreed.
‘These gangsters are just evil but they apparently don’t have any tactical comprehension’,
Ed Arn assessed the situation.
‘They must feel very safe’, Ross Stark estimated. ‘They might believe to be by far superior
in numbers to anyone else around here within a vicinity of several dozen light years, so
they don’t fear anyone’, he reasoned.
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‘Or maybe the their leaders, those of them who can think, are not among their lowly
minions because they have something bigger to do’, the Varanoide reckoned. ‘It
sometimes happens that the young and unexperienced make mistakes while the more
dangerous ones are busy or away’, he described the possible reason for the villains’ bad
tactical judgement. ‘Perhaps they believed themselves especially clever to bind my
warriors to trees because the grassland in front of them has no such facilities’; he tried to
unravel his enemies’ minds.
‘If it’s not a very cleaver trap and if they did not take unexpected precautions, it’s a big
blunder of them to keep their prisoners at the edge of their camp, not in it’, Ross Stark
opined. ‘If they’d keep them in the centre of their camping site, we’d face much more
difficulties’, he stated the obvious. ‘OK, enough talk! Let’s go’, he encouraged everybody
for immediate action.
All four adventurers checked their weapons and their other equipment again and then
they took off, following the Varanoide chieftain who led them. They sneaked from tree to
tree, remained covered by the thick undergrowth, wherever possible, made use of small
hollows and little trenches that passing water from heavy rains might have formed. Soon,
they reached the edge of the forest where the trees stood in a semicircle. The wide open
land that the gangsters had chosen for their camping site was stretching out before them.
The forest stood in somewhat higher ground and the four adventurers could again look
down on the huge surface dotted with campfires, littered with parked hoppers, tents, and
sleeping bags of individual gangsters. In the close vicinity, within a couple of hundred
metres of the semicircle of trees were eight fireplaces. The smallest of them burned
almost precisely in the focal point of the semicircle; exactly as Achesh Akanem had
reported.
What had changed, though, was the number of gangsters sitting around that fireplace.
The four adventurers halted. They zoomed in with their binoculars.
‘Now, there are several more than before’, the Varanoide chieftain complained. ‘The
fellow with the fiery red hair is also among them; the one who held the big speech I told
you about. He seems to be some leader of those villains’, he concluded. Then, he pointed
to the trees: ‘You see my people bound there to the trunks!’ That was no real question.
The four alien warriors were clearly recognizable with the night vision devices.
‘The speech that red-haired boss of theirs just held is over and now these ones here are
sitting around the fireplace to discuss the details, discretely apart from the others’, Ross
Stark suspected. ‘It could be important to learn what they are planning. That many
gangsters won’t be here for a trifle’, he reasoned. ‘Luckily, there is high grass till close to
the fireplace. I will crawl there and listen to what they’re talking’, he declared his
intention.
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‘You better don’t, my friend’, Achesh Akanem warned him.
‘Why’, Ross Stark gave back. ‘Don’t you think that I can sneak up there well enough?’
‘Of course I know that you can sneak up there to the fireplace, my friend’, the Varanoide
chieftain confirmed his trust in his ally’s skills. ‘But you could still get noticed.’
‘Noticed maybe, but caught for sure not’, Stark went strong.
‘Yes, you can run fast and you could possibly escape but then it would become very
difficult for us to free my warriors’, the red-scaled alien warned.
‘No way’, Ross dissented. ‘We’d quickly finish off the guarding gangsters, cut your
warriors fetters, run through the forest and disappear with the hoppers. Who would want
to prevent that if we’re fast enough? So, I just crawl up there through the high grass as
long as it covers me. If I’m getting noticed, you will do the rest. Nothing can happen to us!’
With these words he wanted to hand over his rifle to his old friend Honourable Boman.
‘Stop!’ Achesh Akanem signalled. ‘I can hear them talking from where we are now. My
ears are much better than yours. I will tell you what they are talking about. You remain
here and listen to their words through my mouth as well as if you were right between
them!’
Ross Stark agreed, very much to the relieve of everybody else. Ed Arn wondered about
that strange fellow who appeared so experienced and then at once came up with the
hilarious ideas; or rather with ideas, which were hilarious if they wouldn’t lead into big
disaster. Maybe the lone roaming for those many years had a funny effect on him?
Anyway, this issue was resolved and now the gangsters sitting around the fire could be
spied out. The assumption, that those villains who had appeared at this fireplace together
with the red-haired fellow were some leading figures of the villains, was soon confirmed
by their talking.
‘I can promise you a great success with ample bounty’, this tall and lean man with the
fiery red top proclaimed. It was Claybrinck, of course, and like before, the gangsters here
also addressed him with the military rank of colonel. Lom Claybrinck had arrived just a
little before sunset and had already found some of the other gangster bosses. That he had
brought only few men along caused some frowning, though. It was important for criminals
to survive their raids and stay alive to enjoy their loot. That Claybrinck had lost so many
men on the way wasn’t received as a good sign. But then, on the other hand, he spoke
about very large spoils. Greed ever since was a strong motivation. ‘There is the main cash
box of that cargo line’ Claybrinck pitched his plan to the other bosses. ‘So, are you OK with
it? Are you coming along with your men?’ he asked them.
‘Yeah!’ all three other gangster leaders answered.
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‘And what about Sherbetor’s Plantation?’ Lom Claybrinck asked the other bosses. ‘Do you
want to join us for that one, too, or shall I do that on my own, with a few other folks from
here? I’m sure there will be many who would want to join such an easy raid!’
‘Of course we’ll also join that one’, the other gangster leaders declared. ‘No need to ask
around too much here. You never know if you can trust those folks here. And if you don’t
know them, you might fall in on some big mouth who will over-commit and underperform’, they tried to dissuade him. ‘We have our own gangs with experienced,
equipoised men. Don’t let beginners and naïfs mess matters up’, they warned him. ‘We
don’t see any reason why you should have to go there alone with some random folks
collected at this meeting. Let’s us experts do the advanced stuff. As you told us, it should
be easy prey, that Sherbetor’s Plantation, if done by the right men. So, sure, we’ll join
because there ain’t any reason to let all this nice bounty fall into your hands alone, but
then, you know, we can only get it that easily if we work all together well. If you take off
with some unreliable folks, it won’t be easy anymore!’
That was precisely the mood that Claybrinck had wanted to create among the other
gangster bosses. They should want to come with him. There was no use in him trying to
persuade them to join, if they were not by themselves eager to accompany him. Best, they
thought it was their idea to come along and best, they asked for it.
‘So, how will it all happen?’ the leading villains requested to learn. ‘What’s the plan for
looting Sherbetor’s Plantation?’
‘We need to be swift’, Lom Claybrinck replied. ‘The pest I encountered on planet Naditira
is also on the way to that place. We should best arrive before them. They might not know
the ways around here so well. Therefore, we’d have a little advantage. We’ll reach there
in time, rob it thoroughly and then, if things go well, I can also have my revenge.’
‘Do you know well that those troublemakers will get there?’ one gangster boss asked.
‘Certainly’, Claybrinck responded self-confidently. ‘This Ben Sommer needs to go there to
meet some engineer whom he wants to join him for some project. This engineer should
already be there. If nothing happened to him on the way, his scheduled arrival should
have taken place some little while ago.’
‘What kind of engineer? What’s up with this guy? Why is he needed and for what?
‘Oh, that’s a very different story that has nothing to do with anything that would get you
any reward’, Claybrinck lied. ‘Just don’t worry about this fellow. He is totally harmless and
has no meaning for us or you or anyone else except for this accursed Ben Sommer’, he
dished out a quick fabrication. ‘Anyway, as you are my friends and allies, I will sometime
later tell you the whole storey, just that you know it and don’t feel that I’m hiding
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anything from you. Now, though, I’m too busy with preparing these really profitable
coups. Plotted they’re already; now only the arrangements have to be made.’
‘Ben Sommer you said?’ some other gangster piped up.
‘Does that name mean anything to you?’ Claybrinck gave back with pretended casualness.
‘Never seen the guy myself but heard some people tell stories about some other folks who
crossed him and paid a high price for it’, he recalled.
‘Do you fear’, the fiery red-haired gangster boss fleered at his colleague.
‘It’s no fear’, the jeered about villain replied. ‘Just a cogent aversion against that type of
people.’
‘What nonsense’, Claybrinck lampooned the other gangster. ‘What shall he do to us? With
all your men, we’ll have a total of more than four hundred of the roughest and toughest
guys in the free areas of the galaxy. Haven’t you collected the hardest of the hard-boiled,
brawny, most callous men to be found at all? Could our four hundred experienced
professionals cope with the worst demons of all times? Then, we should not fear a single
man, should we?’ Lom Claybrinck said and smiled with his fake, broad smile that was so
wide; almost from ear to ear.
‘Should all those four hundred plus men come along to Sherbetor’s Plantation’? the
gangsters asked. ‘Wouldn’t that be overkill? With all of them taking part, everybody could
get a loaf of bread and a corncob or whatever else they’re growing and making at this
plantation.’
‘It’s a huge operation, this plantation’, Claybrinck reaffirmed his accomplices. ‘There are
lots of machinery, lots of equipment, and lots of wages in ready specie. We should have
fun there for sure; and for all of us there should be enough to make the journey worth it
for that bounty alone’, Claybrinck made it palatable to the other bosses to take everybody
along. ‘And then, of course, Sherbetor’s Plantation is right on the way to our final
destination. It would be a detrimental waste of time to come back here just to take off
from here again with more men, because of leaving them in waiting here. And who knows,
if they’ll all remain here or of the best ones join other leaders?’
‘That’s right’, the other villain leaders consented. ‘So, when do we leave?’
‘We all need sleep’, Claybrinck asserted. ‘Even if Sherbetor’s Plantation is easy prey, we
should be fit and well-rested when we go for it.’ Then, he took a little handheld computer
out and showed his fellow gangster bosses the two planets of Wasage Ankyun and
Sherbetor’s Plantation. ‘You see the time zones’, he said. ‘When we leave here by
tomorrow early afternoon, we’ll reach Sherbetor’s Plantation when it’s already dark there.
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That should help us approach them unseen. And once we’ll have taken it, we’ll burn the
buildings down and make a nice bonfire out of them for the night.’
Achesh Akanem heard all this and passed it on to his human friends, who’s ears were by
far insufficient for that great feat of espionage. They felt that they had heard enough now
and knew what the gangsters were planning next. For a moment, the four adventurers
discussed if they should end it all right now and right here. They had the weapons to finish
off all the gangster bosses in one go. Then, nothing of these terrible schemes was to take
place anymore. After some deliberation, they chose not to dare it, though. The risk of
being detected by the other gangsters was too large. By now, nobody had seen the four
adventurers. Should they start shooting, this clandestine calm might soon be over. There
were a total of several hundred thousands of villains on this planet. Fighting one against
one hundred thousand was beyond the heroic; it was suicidal. None of the four felt
suicidal.
Then, they went to free the Wasage tribe Varanoide warriors. Because the gangsters were
sitting around the fireplace, discussing their evil machinations, there was little attention
on the captives. Sometimes some glance was thrown toward them but not more often
than once in approximately ten minutes. The four adventurers silently crept up to the four
captive Varanoides and cut their fetters. They, they put four red sheets over four long
sticks and leaned them against the trees. From afar, that should give the very same
impression that a real captive Red Scale would evoke.
For whatever reason, right in this moment, four gangster minions had the idea of
molesting the captives a bit; or a bit more. The small group of villains came from the some
other location on the big gangster fair. They approached the fireplace where some bosses
were sitting together with a group of very hard-boiled, case-hardened experienced
criminals. The gangster minions asked those sitting around the fireplace if it was true that
there were four captive Varanoides. When they learned that such aliens were really
bound to the trees nearby, they asked respectfully for permission to torture the a bit.
Once the minions had promised not to kill the Varanoides, they were given permission.
Those minions were intoxicated, walked slowly, did not see well anymore, and
understood even less of the little that they saw; at night and drunken. Yet, they posed a
threat to the four adventurers and the four freed captive Varanoide warriors. Dumb and
drunk as those gangster minions were, they would still realise that the Varanoides had
eloped once they’d be close enough to the red sheets on the sticks leaning against the
tree trunks. They’d raise alarm and set loose a nasty course of events that was to be
avoided.
The keep the course of events turning nasty, the Varanoides, all five of them, dropped
down to the high grass and crawled toward the on-coming four gangster minions. Those,
seeing nothing and being drunk, proofed easy prey. From one moment to the other, the
four villains just disappeared, all at the same time. Just a second earlier, they still have
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been there, a couple of maters away from the trees where they expected the captives and
one second later, the high grass seemed so peaceful and innocuous as any such vegetation
could only appear. The Varanoides hid the four dead bodies of the minions in the high
grass as good as possible. They did not want to haul them toward the forest because that
could make some noise and also create broader tracks in the high grass. Then, they
returned to the edge of the forest, where their human allies were waiting for them.
The Varanoides who had been captive were in bad shape. They had been abused, lost
blood, sustained cuts and abrasions; they had been beaten and kicked, punched and
poked. Fortunately, they still could walk. All eight now took off for their way back. The
chieftain formed the one-alien vanguard, his four warriors followed and the humans
secured the rear. After about forty minutes, they reached their hoppers, entered and
disappeared as unnoticed as they had arrived.
After some time, when Achesh Akanem and his friends and the freed warriors of his tribe
were already in hyperspace, somebody started missing the four minions who had wanted
to torture the captive Varanoides a bit. A first glance fell on four read figures standing at
the trees where they were supposed to stand. ‘Strange’, said one gangster. ‘We did not
hear them shout.’ Some other villain remarked: ‘They look so calm, vary much
unmolested.’ Yet another gangster grumbled: ‘What the heck are these mongrels doing’?
It wasn’t clear whom he meant with the derogative term. As a few minutes later the scene
had not changed, the gangsters started looking for their minions. They followed the traces
that those had made in the high grass. Thus, it was almost unavoidable that the dead
bodies of the minions were found. ‘Typical Varanoide kills’, grunted one experienced
gangster. The throats of the minions had been cut to the spine and the hearts had been
pricked all over; five deep claw marks were to be seen on each back. ‘The Varanoides
were tired, exhausted’, the experienced gangster remarked. ‘Had they been fresh, the
thrust would have gone deeper’, he detailed. In the face of the four mauled bodies, his
fellow villains did not want to know about those details. That gangster, being bad,
enjoyed telling even more.
Now, that four dead villains were discovered, worriedness spread across the great
gangster fair. Guards were arranged and the vicinity was searched. Nothing was found.
Claybrinck and the other three gangster bosses had a look at the four dead bodies.
Minions, he though. And better them than us, he felt But he said neither of it. That there
were gangsters of different skills and usability everybody understood. Yet, even the most
useless fools did not appreciate to be downed. Because minions were needed by bosses at
times, it wasn’t advisable for a leader to disgruntle all the morons. Actually, because
exasperating the ninnies didn’t yield any monetary benefit but flattering them could
result in useful gun-fodder volunteering for all kinds of mad missions, and came for free,
too, it was highly recommendable for a gangster boss to smooth-tongued and ingratiating
at times. It was a balancing act between scaring the minions in shape and keeping them at
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it. Oh, it was hard to be a gangster boss. So many unreliable, insubordinate subordinates!
So much lack of discipline! So damn bad work ethics; literally! Always this need to share!
Those discussions and those requirement for justification and explanation! Terrible!
‘This event is not a great misfortune for us’, Claybrinck opined toward his fellow gangster
bossed. ‘But it forces us to change of our plan for tomorrow. We have to leave very early
from here.’
‘Why?’ He was asked.
‘Because the Varanoides heard everything that we talked about’, Lom Claybrinck detailed.
‘It’s good luck that they know anything of our intention concerning Arrano Buzutane
Station because we did not speak of it here, but before, when we were over there at
another fireplace. But what we intend to do at Sherbetor’s Plantation, they do know’,
Claybrinck warned.
‘Do you believe that the Varanoides will reveal it?’ one fellow gangster boss asked.
‘Of course’, Claybrinck responded.
‘Should those savage monsters be friends of Sherbetor?’ the villain leader speculated.
‘Befriended or not; they will report it to him to take revenge on us and prepare for us a
warm welcome’, Claybrinck hypothesized. ‘After all, those Varanoides weren’t received
with exuberant hospitality here, were they?’
‘They were spies’; one gangster justified their actions against the Varanoides.
‘They were just there and we wanted to have some fun with them’, another one said,
more honestly.
‘If they are going to warn Sherbetor, we should best hurry up’, yet another gangster,
sober-minded villain, agreed with Lom Claybrinck. ‘Actually, we should be as fast as we
can’, he urged his colleagues on. ‘I just want to know where those five chaps remain who
were sent to take care of that eloped chieftain’, that gangster boss said.
‘That’s a riddle to me as well’, one of his comrades agreed. ‘They should have long caught
him.’
‘Yes, they were five and he had wounds’, the other boss corroborated.
‘Certainly, anyway’, the colleague responded. ‘But they were probably getting tired on
their way back and stayed for the night somewhere else, have encamped to take a rest
and will come tomorrow morning to join us again. Anyway, we might well meet them
again somewhere on the way, because they took exactly the direction that we must also
follow.’
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Of course, those gangster bosses were wrong. The dead bodies of those five gangsters
were already being interacted in the natural metabolism cycle of all organic matter.
Achesh Akanem, who knew the hyperspace currents in this region of the galaxy best,
guided his warriors and his human allies along those streams. The way to Sherbetor’s
Plantation led via somewhat broader, wider hyperspace currents and the little troop had
no problems rushing along with all their hoppers. The stream they were hurrying along
was subjected to soft energy tides. They were by far less forceful than those haunting the
mighty Arcus Stream but they were sufficient to wipe out the traces that those eight
hoppers were leaving. The energy tide sweeping along the path that those eight allies had
chosen was different from the one running through the Arcus Stream in another trait: It
had the property to resisting or supporting the movement of objects along the current,
depending on the direction of the fluctuation. This one, fortunately, was supportive and
therefore, the eight allies got along faster than they would have been able to travel
without that natural assistance.
Being led by Achesh Akanem and rushing along that mid-size hyperspace stream, the eight
allies after some time came to a junction where another current united with the one used
by them. It was there that suddenly a host of other hoppers appeared. They came from
that coalescent current and were equally hurrying at the limit of their capacity.
Achesh Akanem and his companions realised the sudden presence of the foreign hoppers.
They suspected them to belong to gangsters who were rushing toward Sherbetor’s
Plantation. Those peregrine hoppers had come from a direction that wasn’t precisely
logical if they had originated from planet Wasage Ankyun but caution was always better
then roseate naïveté to prolong an adventurer’s life expectancy. At the moment, though,
not much could happen because those other machines had no external weapons. The only
space flight vessel with arms mounted outside was Ed Arn’s customised New Triumph
Hyper Rocket X. Therefore, Ed Arn could have attacked and defeated any other hopper
around. He did not do it, though, because he wasn’t attacked either. The other space flight
machines were just rushing into the same direction. They did not show open hostility.
The race went on for more than one hour. Achesh Akanem led his tribal warriors and
human allies on the fastest route along that hyperspace stream and those other, foreign
machines followed at equal pace. They could catch up only gradually, coming closer at a
very low rate. There was only the assumption that those hurried travellers were gangsters;
there was no proof yet. There was only the rise in danger level, as the other space flight
machines gradually came ever closer, while all were hastening at the peak of their abilities.
Then, finally, the foreign racers were getting so close to the advance team lead by Achesh
Akanem that the tactical situation started demanding an urgent solution. The hyperspace
stream they all were hurrying through was solid enough not to break down under the load
that all those hoppers put on it. Pushing out the other hoppers by making the current
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collapse was no option. Leaving the hyperspace stream was no option either, because
Achesh Akanem and his allies had to reach Sherbetor’s Plantation. They needed to arrive
there to warn the people living at this place of the impending gangsters and to help them
defend against the menace.
Ed Arn had fallen back to take over the rear guard of the group led by Achesh Akanem.
With weapons mounted to the outside of his hopper, he could hinder anyone from
overtaking. In his rear view display, Arn saw to Yamaha hoppers, one Imperial Galaxy
Venture T and one W-Max. Those were good, fast, strong machines with excellent
capabilities. Actually, at least the Yamaha W-Max could compete successfully with his
own New Triumph Hyper Rocket X when it came to maximum speed and acceleration,
especially as the custom additions were adding weight. The other one of the two leading
machine of the pursuers wasn’t as powerful as Arn’s own hopper but it was steered very
well. The pilot perfectly well knew what he was doing. Out-running them wasn’t a likely
possibility. But as of yet, the pursuers had not opened any hostilities. Still, Ed Arn
prepared himself to fall back behind them and finish them off one after the other if they
tried to come even closer to his allies.
Then, suddenly, matters changed again. One of the two leading hoppers of the pursuers
gave signals. Ed Arn understood them well. ‘Who are you?’ Ed did not know what to do.
He wasn’t the leader of the small group. He had hired two scouts because they knew
better how to get along in this area of the galaxy. ‘Who’s your leader?’ the next message
asked. Arn still did not reply. As he wasn’t aware of what to do best, he just did nothing;
or rather, he continued doing what he had been doing ever since he kept on following
Achesh Akanem along this hyperspace current. He just rushed on. In the meanwhile, he
passed on the messages and his observations to his frontman, to have him pass it on to
their group’s leader. Shall the others know what was happening and shall they enlighten
him; if they knew what was going and had a solution for it. ‘I am Ben Sommer’, another
message came in. ‘Are Wasage tribe Varanoides with you?’ was requested. ‘Is Chieftain
Achesh Akanem leading you?’
Ed Arn felt that these pursuers might not be enemies. He passed still passed the messages
on. They could also be a fake. There were so man gangsters in this part of the galaxy now
and one could never know and be really sure before actually checking identities and
intentions.
As reaction to the messages, soon after passing them on to the fore, Ross Stark let himself
fall back till he was at the same level with Ed Arn. Some messages were exchanged
between Stark and the pilot of the New Triumph Hyper Rocket X. Then, Ross told Arn that
there was no danger: ‘They are friends! They are who they claim to be. Please move up to
the vanguard.’ Ed did as he was told. While working his way to the fore of the small group
of eight hoppers rushing toward Sherbetor’s Plantation, he passed by Achesh Akanem,
who also let himself fall back. The experienced chieftain had entrusted one of his warriors
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with leading the group. This Varanoide was also very capable and got along almost at the
same speed that Achesh Akanem had maintained when leading the group as the vanguard.
Ed Arn understood that Ross Stark and the Varanoide tribal chieftain knew this fellow Ben
Sommer and had news to exchange. Honourable Boman, who wasn’t so talkative anyway,
remained in the middle of the group rushing forward. Like Boman, Arn was informed later
what all had happen and how it made sense.
Ben Sommer and his groups, comprising Tiān Míngyuè, Tom Grand, Lentbender, Revilo
and all the loggers, had intended to visit Wasage Ankyun, too. On the way to that planet,
they had encountered a large group of gangsters travelling in their hoppers, which finally
lead to some altercation. Nobody got killed but for sure the villains now knew whom not
to like and they were expected to pass that message on; together with a description of the
group’s hoppers. It turned out that the gangsters had taken precautions to prevent the
participation of unwanted elements at their crime fair. One of these precautions was that
they did have a password for entering the grand meeting. Only the bosses knew about
that password and were to tell their minions just before reaching Wasage Ankyun. Insofar
Revilo had correctly reported as his invitation to be only verbal. There really was no
material invitation like a card or even anything digital. All was in the heads of the bosses.
Those were the ones to enunciate the invitations and to validate them later by giving out
the required password, too.
Therefore, it made no sense for Ben Sommer and his group to try getting to the big
gangster fair at Wasage Ankyun. They did not have any password and their hoppers had
been noticed as adversarial machines. If they approached this planet where all the villains
were heading and where so man had already arrived, they would be alone against
hundreds of thousands of bandits. That did not sound like a reasonable plan. Thus, they
refrained from going to Wasage Ankyun and guided their travel directly to Sherbetor’s
Plantation instead. On the way, they had then finally met with the group of hopper riders
led by Achesh Akanem. At first, Ben Sommer and his group had thought them to be
gangsters, too. Then, upon seeing a customised New Triumph Hyper Rocket X, which was
a very rare hopper anywhere in the universe but even more so in the free areas, first
doubts had arisen. Such a machine wasn’t likely belonging to a minion. Thus great hopper
was worthy of a boss. But was a boss expected to form the rearguard and safe his
companions from anyone approaching from the rear or was such a boss rather supposed
to be the leader of a pack? Then, Ben Sommer and Seb Melch had realised how well that
onward rushing group of hoppers was lead along this hyperspace current. The style of
riding for five of the eight travellers seemed alien; as humans and aliens had somewhat
different attitudes to navigating through hyperspace. Ultimately, Seb Melch and Ben
Sommer had concluded that it was best to ask those riders who they were and then, as no
reply came, introduce at least Sommer to the group in front, because they suspected that
friends might be among those urgent travellers.
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Their assessment of the situation had not betrayed Sommer and Melch as Achesh Akanem
was among those pilots and Honourable Boman and Ross Stark, too, whom Melch knew
well.
Once Ben Sommer had heard the story, he thought about trying to lay an ambuscade for
the gangster on the way with the purpose of at least slowing them down. ‘We will keep
the villains busy and you rush on to Sherbetor’s Plantation to raise alarm’, Sommer
wanted to determined. ‘Sherbetor will be just the right man to make effective
preparations for the defence of his plantation’, Ben complimented the planter. ‘He’ll just
need some time and I will make that additional time available to him with my loggers
here’, he explained his plan. ‘At some junction of a narrower hyperspace current we’ll lie
in ambush for them and then bring the stream to break down.’
‘Like always you have the best plan readily at hand’, Achesh Akanem complimented Ben
Sommer on his scheme to conquer the villains. ‘Your plan would certainly work out well
this time, too, like any time, but Sherbetor is not at his plantation’, the Varanoide
chieftain contradicted Ben. ‘On our way forth to Wasage Ankyun we came through
Sherbetor’s Plantation. He’s an old friend and we wanted to visit him. He wasn’t there,
though. His brother had come with wife and daughter and they flew together to Sicona
Ecaro Station to do some shopping for the ladies.’
‘At least I know that my engineers has already arrived’, Sommer contented. ‘Do you know
for how long more the Sherbetors all want to stay in Sicona Ecaro Station?’ he asked the
tribal chieftain.
‘A few more days’, Achesh Akanem replied.
‘Thus, I have to get to Sherbetor’s Plantation to organise the defence’, Ben decided. There
was no use in trying to hold up the gangsters if the gained times wasn’t used according to
the needs. Sending to Sicona Ecaro Station for help was most likely futile, too, because the
ways was too long. Help would arrive most likely only after the villains would already
have plundered the place.
‘Could you bring any of your Wasage warriors to help defend Sherbetor’s Plantation?’
Sommer asked the Varanoide.
‘I wanted to collect them anyway to take revenge on the gangsters’, Achesh Akanem
accorded. ‘The villains killed eight of my warriors just like this; killed them cruelly. And
they wanted to torture us to death, too. Therefore, I will wipe them out. It will take about
twenty six hours of your time to get forth to the closest camp of my tribe and back to
Sherbetor’s Plantation’, the red-scaled chieftain expounded.
‘That may be far too late’, Sommer regretted. ‘According to what you have told me, you
have at max an advance of about a quarter of that time; like six to eight hours, if we’re
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very lucky and travel much faster than the villains’, Ben calculated. ‘The gangsters may
take off immediately once they realised that your warriors were liberated or they will
sleep first and then come and attack well-rested. In the first case, our advance might be
just a short. Given that we might travel a little faster because of yours and your warriors’
leadership, we might have an hour or two for preparations. If the villains would like to be
well-rested once they attack, we could have maybe up to eight hours of advance. But
that’s the maximum. The people at Sherbetor’s Plantation would be gracious to received
relief earlier than that’, Sommer added the times. ‘How are the relations between your
tribe and the Seneya and Seoapah tribes currently?’ Ben then asked.
‘We are living in peace with each other’, the alien chieftain replied.
‘Both tribes are currently around here in that region’, Sommer told. Probably, Achesh
Akanem also knew this. But peace or not, they relations between those different tribes of
the Varanoides were complicated and nobody from one such tribe likes having to ask
anyone from different tribe for a favour. Having to pose such a request came along with a
loss of face and reputation among the Varanoides and because these concepts meant
much to them, they hesitated to ask for help.
‘Both tribes could be reached in about four hours from’, Ben mentioned. ‘Would you be
willing to help me and inform them about my situation?’ he asked. In that case, the redscaled tribal chieftain would not ask for a favour for himself but just inform those other
tribes about a third person’s troubles. He wouldn’t lose face.
Achesh Akanem agreed.
‘Please tell their chieftains that I ask them to support me and the people at Sherbetor’s
Plantation to support us with at least one hundred warriors each. If they can send more,
that would be great, of course’, Sommer briefed the Varanoide.
‘That’s the whole message’, the alien tribal chieftain wanted to have confirmed.
‘Yes’, Ben reassured him.
Soon after, at the next junction of this one hyperspace stream with another, Achesh
Akanem departed from the group and took the current that was turning into another
direction. The rest of the combines group of hopper-piloting allies kept on rushing toward
Sherbetor’s Plantation.
After a hard time of concentrated piloting, the group reached Sherbetor’s Plantation. At
that time, the plantation covered the best soil of a small contingent on that world. The
whole planet belonged to Sherbetor’s Plantation but currently only this part was
cultivated. Piece by piece, more was to follow. On the plantation, many different crops
were cultivated. Most of it was foodstuff of different kinds. It was the only agricultural
business within a radius of several light years and practically anyone who wanted to eat
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anything was ultimately supplied with foodstuff from Sherbetor’s Plantation. It was a
good business, though it was extremely labour intensive and had taken a capital
investment of considerable size to get it going. Sherbetor’s Plantation worked with many
big machines. The main locality itself consisted of several two-storey buildings, barns,
garages, silo-type bulk tanks, and more. The buildings belonging to the central location of
that plantation were looking altogether like a small town.
When the group of good adventurers around Ben Sommer arrived at Sherbetor’s
Plantation, the lady of the estate was informed first. She soon understood what the
situation was and had all lights turned offal over the property. Then, she had the
employees called together and informed anyone of the impending threat. Together with
the most experienced of her staff, Sommer, Melch, the Varanoide warriors, Grant,
Lentbender, Stark, Boman, and also Ed Arn, that courageous lady discussed the plans to
set up suitable defences. The other people were sent to sleep. Soon, once it was clear
what needed to be done, the Varanoides retreated. They had gone through very hard
times and needed recovery badly. Sometime later, anyone of the travelled companions
but Ben Sommer and Ed Arn went to sleep. Ben and Ed kept on organising the defence of
Sherbetor’s Plantation with the lady of the house. Sommer had the impression that Arn
possessed considerable military experience. What Ed owned for sure was a nice collection
of excellent weapons. He also knew well how to use them.
Because the environment was lonesome and unwanted visitors had to be expected in
such a region, the buildings were erected in ways to afford some decent defence.
Sherbetor’s Plantation was an agricultural settlement in the first place, not a military
stronghold, but it was erected with dome defence capabilities in mind. Nobody had
thought of withstanding military-type assaults but the usual criminal gangs were taken
into account; gangs of all races prevalent in the surrounding. An attack with as many men
as Lom Claybrinck was to bring on ad not been factored in when the installations were set
up, though.
During the night, the executive committee of the plantation’s lady, Ed Arn, and Ben
Sommer had organised the erection of a range of defensive measures like trenches, manholes, covers of different kind, machinery was secured, and a messenger had been sent
toward Sicona Ecaro Station to warn the two brothers Sherbetor and the engineer’s wife
and daughter of the forthcoming violent conflict.
All around the plantation buildings fields with crops reached to the horizon. Anybody
coming from above, and that was the way to approach this location from outer space,
knew that those fields stretched not just till the horizon but well beyond. A lot of
foodstuff that was good and suitable for human consumption was being grown there. One
staple was corn.
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Even Ben Sommer and Ed Arn had finally slept, while the lady of the house could not
manage to close her eyes during all the night. She had a strong will and a determined
mind and she held herself up with admirable grace but she wasn’t used to such situations
and thus far too agitated for being able to rest.
After most of them had rested well and regained some strength of concentration, the
leadership team for the defence met again.
‘When will the Varanoide warriors arrive?’ Seb Melch wanted to know.
‘According to our calculation, they might soon be here’, Sommer speculated.
‘Unfortunately, we can’t be sure of that’, Melch disagreed. ‘First, they might have to
collected from across an extended area. Then, they might have to conduct their customary
ceremonies before they get going’, Seb uttered something that gave cause for concern. He
was right about the traditions, even though the Varanoides understood the meaning of
urgency well and were capable and prepared to leave out some rituals if they had to act
immediately. ‘We should be glad if they arrive about four to six hours after they were
scheduled’, Melch estimated pessimistically. ‘And I’m not sure about the actual fighting
capacity of those warriors either’, he insinuated disparagingly.
‘That’s about equal to my own judgement’, Ross Stark agreed. ‘As to my knowledge, both
tribes haven’t been involved in serious battles anymore for quite some time. We should
better not rely and them and accept that we have to fend for ourselves’, he assessed the
situation. ‘We might face a lengthy struggle’, Stark warned.
‘We’re quite well equipped here’, Ben Sommer tried to put him at ease. ‘The storages are
full of provisions. The gangsters want to have them, too, but as long as those stocks are
ours, we can make use of them. We certainly won’t starve! We also have ammunitions
enough and can answer their assault attempts with a barrage of fire each time’, Sommer
portrayed the tactical situation favourable. ‘And remember, the gangsters can’t take too
much time because they have fear that help for us will come from Sicona Ecaro Station.
They’ve set up a militia there and the shipping lines frequenting that place also have their
own security arrangements. In case of such a massive onslaught, at least the militia will
come and possible the local corporate security will also send a detachment; after all,
Sherbetor is a big customer and without the plantation, they could close most of the
mining, gold digging and such business in this area down.’
‘What about water?’ Stark asked. ‘If else all we have but water is lacking, we couldn’t
stand more than a couple of days.’
‘No need to worry’, Ben responded calmly. ‘Under this very building there is a deep well.
There is also a covered canal going to a broad river to the north. I have already taken
precautions to secure it so that the villains are not using it to enter the compound.
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Anyway, you can see that the compound is quite well walled. This planet is home to some
big and strong animals. They’ve build this settlement to keep these out. Now, the same
walls and fences should work well to keep the gangsters out, too.’
‘And if they try to come right into the middle with their hoppers?’ Ross Stark feared.
‘You know well that hoppers are no military equipment’, Sommer responded. ‘They are
comparatively frail and a good rifle will get them down. We’ve put up some air defence in
covered positions. It’s very unlikely that anyone could get into the compound and if, he
won’t last long’, he declared sanguinely.
After that conversation, Seb Melch went to see the water canal. It was accessible via a
trap door and then led quite some distance under the ground to the big river that was
flowing well to the north of the settlement. He saw what precautions Ben had organised
and smiled cynically. Anyone trying to get into the settlement via this canal would
experience severe hardship, if not immediate extinction.
It wasn’t any specific intention that led Seb Melch to ask about the canal and inspect it
subsequently. Later on, though, his knowledge was to turn into an asset for him. It was a
solid tunnel with brickwork linin of approximately the height of a very tall man with a tophat. It was straight and fairly deep. The gradient was sloping toward the settlement. After
familiarising himself with that canal, Seb Melch returned to the group.
The volunteers who had all come to defend Sherbetor’s Plantations were treated with the
utmost of friendliness. The loggers around Tom Grand and the old Lentbender had by
themselves not much to do with this agricultural business. The had come along with Ben
Sommer and were on the way to greater richness from the abundant mines that were
promised to them. Of course, Lentbender had his personal grievance to take care of and
the loggers thought of revenge against Claybrinck, too. Yet, it wasn’t commonplace that so
many people volunteered without exception to defend somebody else and his property.
This readiness to help was rewarded by the folks who belonged to Sherbetor’s Plantation
with kindness and the most supreme hospitality that was at all possible under the given
circumstances.
When the day advanced and high noon was passing by, even Ben Sommer became a bit
nervous. Without the Varanoides, their position at the settlement was much more
imperilled and much more difficult to defend. The location offered many favourable
positions for defence stands, but these had to be occupied, too. There was no use in
having a bulwark of trenches and man-holes and sand-bag protected stands when there
was nobody using them and the enemy could just pass by unattended. Sommer had talked
to the others as if there was no problem if the Varanoides remained absent or came too
late but that was to keep up the morale. In fact, it would become extremely tough to keep
this last stand for more than a couple of days, if no support came and if the gangsters
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attacked determinedly. Ben had reckoned with the Varanoides, not least because Achesh
Ankyun had a bill to settle with the gangsters. The alien chieftain had lost eight of his
warriors and therefore was culturally compelled to take revenge. Both his personality and
his obligation toward the tribe forced him to punish such an offense. Yet, with the time
passing by, optimism concerning the timely arrival of relief also waned. Sommer did not
realise that Ed Arn was getting equally nervous. This man was also understood the tactical
situation quite well and he felt bad about it; bad and ever worse with each minutes that
passed by without the promised support arriving. Seb Melch, who was more a criminalist
than a military person, instinctively felt that tensions were building up. His assessment of
the setting was less precise but still he also felt more and more uneasy.
Then, finally, and to the great relieve of Ben, who had needed much of his willpower to
remain calm, the signal was received that Achesh Ankyun was to arrive with his
Varanoides. A few minutes later, the first hoppers landed within the premises of the
settlement. Sherbetor’s Plantation was being filled up with warriors. They had come with
the typical small hoppers that this alien race preferred. To protect the machines from bad
influence, they were put into garages, other solid buildings, or underground storages.
Unfortunately, the weaponry that the Varanoides had brought along was of less quality
and quantity than hoped for. This was partially compensated by the stocks that were
available from the plantation and from reserve weapons that Arn, Sommer, Melch and
some others carried. The loggers, over all, were quite well armed and most of them had
two rifles or even three. Huge, dangerous animals weren’t rare on newly discovered
planets and any adventurer who wanted to survive better had means to defend himself
effectively. Those of the red-scaled aliens who were not-so-well armed were given these
surplus weapons. Then, once they had familiarised themselves with the armoury, they
were shown the plantation headquarter with all its buildings and introduced to the
defence installations that had been set up.
Now, that there were a sufficient number of fighters at Sherbetor’s Plantation, some more
messengers could be sent out to warn neighbours of the villains. There weren’t that many
of them around but still it was better to let them all know that something bad was going
on. Because the Varanoides of the Seneye and Seoapah tribes had actually hardly
anything to do with the whole business, the defence committee asked them to fulfil this
service. Those were sent who were assumed to be least missing for the ground fighting,
who had not brought any good weapon of their own or who could not handle the guns
that were provided to them well.
Apart from the Varanoides, there were now twenty loggers, another twenty plantation
workers, Sommer, Melch, Revilo, Boman, Stark, Arn as well as the lady of the property
inside the premises. All the command positions were occupied. All the defence positions
were also occupied. Everybody among the defenders had at least one weapon, usually a
projectile rifle. Many also had a side gun and carried big knives.
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Then, a contact signal came in via the plantation’s radio system. The passive radar
detected a single machine, coming in slowly. The pilot of which asked for permission to
land. ‘That’s a spy’, everybody was sure. ‘We should not let him touch ground’, most
people felt.
‘Of course this one is a scout sent out by Claybrinck’, Ben Sommer said. ‘But if we act
suspiciously, the villains will know that the plantation was warned and that we’re. We
should not let them know that too early. We lose the element of surprise in that case.’
‘So, shall I give him permission to land?’ the lady of the plantation asked.
‘Yes, and act completely innocent’, Ben Sommer advised here. ‘We have no long range
weapons. We can’t do anything against them hanging around in outer space. Therefore,
we can also pretend to be harmless and play theatre for them. To keep up that chimaera,
our fighters will hide themselves.’
Thus, the permission to land was granted and an old, single, derelict hopper soon came
down right in the middle of the yard in front of the administration building of the
plantation, next to the main living quarter. Three men climbed out of that single machine.
It was very rare for three people to fit into a single hopper. Such narrowness was very
uncomfortable. After a few minutes, the whole body was hurting.
The three chaps stood in front of this old, fairly finished machine. They looked around;
and then they looked around again. There was nobody to be seen because all the
defenders had been requested to remain hidden. The men who had exited from the trashy
hopper walked in different directions. They did not know if they were being observed by
the probably expected it. They ended their forays only once they met fences and other
barriers that they could not cross. Finally, one of them ostentatious pointed to the
administration building. Probably, it had come to his mind that he could be observed and
he wanted to play harmless. Another one of the three went back to the old hopper. He
bent inward and fingered around at the radio system. He tried to cover his face and
especially his mouth. It was apparent that he was passing on information.
None of those men knew how well they were being observed, how detailed they were
being followed. The fellow who had spoken into the radio device of the trashy hopper
now joined the other two and they walked toward the administration building. They
behaved exactly as moronic minions were expected to behave if they were told by their
boss to look around and check out the place. Of course, for such a mission only morons
had volunteered; if these were volunteers at all. If they had been compelled, then their
boss had probably chosen those who were least valuable, most expendable. To have
much time to look around they walked very slowly. Finally, they reached the main door of
the administration building. They knocked at it and asked to be allowed in.
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It was Seb Melch who came to speak to those three spies. They could be armed. Therefore,
the lady of the plantation was not to be exposed to them. The gangster scouts were being
aimed at from several hidden locations. Snipers among the Varanoide and human
defenders of Sherbetor’s Plantation were keeping an eye on them. Melch opened a small
window near to the main door. ‘What do you want’ he asked. At the smallest little
instance, he would drop down to be covered and the snipers would shoot.
‘We are adventurers with agricultural experience and we are looking for a job here’, the
spies claimed. ‘We heard that there are vacancies here on this plantation. As we were
anywhere in the region, we came here to introduce ourselves and ask for work’, they lied.
‘Where did you come from?’ Seb questioned them in order to make sure that they were
spies.
‘We just came from Sicona Ecaro Station’, they fiddled. That claim was proof that they
were liars. Three men would not come over from Sicona Ecaro Station in a single, small,
trashy hopper.
‘We don’t have any vacancies’, Melch replied. Sorry. Please go somewhere else.
‘Come on, let us in and give us at least some food’, they demanded.
Seb Melch could not let them in. They might have pistols. They might have hand grenades.
They could have big knives. They should not see the Varanoides inside the house. ‘Can’t
let you in’, he said. It wasn’t even a lie. ‘We have problems with some predators here’,
Melch claimed. Even that wasn’t entirely a lie, of villains were counted among the
predators. ‘They’re roaming around here and have caused some trouble and we’re all
supposed to keep all doors closed. So, you best go again, too, lest you may meet your fate
earlier than you intend’, he warned them. The gangster scouts had no idea how true that
warning was, as several snipers aimed their rifles as them.
‘Especially then you should let us in’, the villain spies demanded. ‘If there are dangerous
predators outside, it’s against the rules of humanity to keep us out’, they protested.
‘Sorry’, Seb Melch gave back. ’I am just a little guy, a humble subordinate. I’m told not to
take any decision. The big boss set the rule and I have to obey’, he claimed. ‘And you
better also leave because those predators are really dangerous. Most people here are out
to hunt them down. Just few of us remained. We can’t guarantee for your safety.’
The three spies kept on protesting for some time. Seb Melch just closed the little window.
Finally, the gangster scouts went back to their trashy hopper. One of them again spoke
into the radio. He tried to hide it but it was clear what he was doing. Probably he received
some orders from above because the three fellows made another round over the
premises. Then, they went back to the hopper and their foreman again took the radio.
‘Hardly anybody here! You can come!’ he said. The Varanoide snipers pointing at the three
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villain scouts had understood it. Ed Arn had also understood it, because he was listening
with a special microphone that amplified sounds coming from far way. All the defenders
of Sherbetor’s Plantation were soon informed.
The gangster scouts had again received orders from above. They lingered around the old,
trashy hopper, no-credibly pretending as if something wasn’t functioning properly. They
were making a show but it was a bad who. They were just expendable minions, every one
of the defenders who was looking at them thought, sent here to do work that they did not
even know how dangerous it was; and how bad they were in doing it.
A few minutes passed by and then the passive radar system of Sherbetor’s Plantation
detected the approach of a large number of hoppers. They came directly from above.
Once these were so low that they could be seen clearly with the bare eye, the three
gangster scouts all reached into the trashy hopper that they had parked in the middle of
the central year of the settlement. They took out guns from the vessel. In that moment
when these guns became visible, the heads of these three gangsters disploded like eggs in
a microwave oven. The snipers pointing at them all the time had finally ended the farce.
Many of the hoppers descending from the height met with the same fate. At first, they did
not realise what was happening. Had not those scouts reported that Sherbetor’s
Plantation was almost deserted? Did not those spied call back their boss to let him know
that there was no hint of any defenders and that the majority of the plantation workers
had gone out to chase some wild predators? So, when the first, lower-most gangster
hoppers received projectiles, their pilots at first believed this to be some random, lucky
strike. Only when they got more hits and they saw their fellow pilots also receiving flak,
they realise that something was severely wrong. But when they had finally understood
that, there were still other gangsters coming from above. So the first pilots to come into
the range of the defenders had already found out that they needed to go back up again
while the last ones were still descending from the sky. The result was a number of crashes.
Hoppers were fragile, tender machines. They were neither designed nor built for military
purposes. As the name hopper suggested, they were originally made for short trips from a
planet to a moon or between different planets in the same solar system. Later, their
hyperspace drives became better and people started using them even for interstellar
travel. With hyperspace drives getting even more powerful, hoppers finally reached their
universal operational range, covering anything from short jaunts to interstellar voyages.
For the later, hoppers were not really the right means of transportation. They consisted of
the technical parts needed to make them move and a set. They were comparatively cheap,
though. That low price was the main argument for using them. People bought hoppers
and took them to fulfil all kinds of different tasks because they simply could not afford
anything bigger and better. Then, hoppers were also good for frequenting the narrow
hyperspace streams aside from the major currents. Thus, pilots riding these small
machines could reach places where big spaceships were not getting so easily; or rather:
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quickly. Only hyperspace travel enabled decent speed and reasonable travel time. Having
to sail through normal space was so time-consuming that people rather avoided it. Where
no hyperspace current led, people did not go.
As small, light-weight machines, hoppers were not built to resist much force. They had
front shield screens that were made to keep head wind from bothering the pilot, not
projectiles. Hoppers left the factories without weapons and they had no mounts for any
such extensions with weapons. They had none of the typical military sensor systems and
neither did they come equipped with other military-type capabilities like special
navigation skills as night-flight functionalities and more such add-ons. They were purely
small, light-weight, inexpensive, rather simple machines that were used for a host of
operational profiles that nobody had ever believed them to be capable of. They were
definitively not useful to serve as tanks or landing craft. When shot at with a powerful
rifle and hit, a hopper was broken.
From their covered places the defenders of Sherbetor’s Plantation kept on firing at the
gangsters’ hoppers. Many got hit and many fell down as a result. Many machines of the
villains crashed into each other and then many of them also fell down. Once they dashed
down, the defenders kept on shooting at them for as long as it took to make sure that no
threat originated from them anymore. That in essence meant nothing else but
neutralisation or less euphemistically death to the respective pilot.
The gangsters had no other choice than to retreat if they did not want to get entirely
annihilated. Going to Sherbetor’s Plantation had proved to be very different from the rosy
raid that Lom Claybrinck had promised all the villains who were ready to follow him.
After the gangster spies had landed directly on the main square of the plantation
settlement and reported from their scouting mission that all was well and that it would be
easy, the other villains had assumed that they’d just fly there, land their hoppers, exit
them, grab their guns and loot all they could from a few helpless subordinates and maybe
the lady of the plantation and her family, if there was any. None of the gangsters had
expected such military-type resistance.
After retreating, the gangsters assembled out of sight from the plantation settlement’s
buildings. The gangsters were agitated and complained heavily. Lom Claybrinck had to
labour arduously to turn their rage against the defenders. He also used the three scouts as
scapegoats, putting the blame on them and on the one who had chosen them. ‘How could
they be in the middle of a fortress and not see all those defences?’ Claybrinck exclaimed
furiously. Then, he cursed the recklessness and brutality of the defenders who were
shooting without any mercy and due compassion at helpless hoppers. Didn’t that shooting
prove that these people over there at Sherbetor’s Plantation were evil, Claybrinck fumed.
Weren’t those reckless deeds the proof that a planter was just a robber engaged in landgrabbing, the gangster boss incited the others hate. He had to turn fear and shock into the
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odium of hatred to make his gangsters go again. If he could add rancour to greed, he
might succeed in motivating his villains for another assault. Therefore Claybrinck argued
that such vehement defence was logically pointing to a huge treasure being kept
somewhere in the plantation’s central settlement. Who else but somebody with a huge
hoarding would defend himself so madly, he argued. ‘Who else but somebody with a
tremendous treasure at hand could afford to hire so many guns?’ Claybrinck deducted in
loud words for his audience.
Now, with this unexpected opposition hindering the gangsters from looting Sherbetor’s
Plantation without resistance, Lom Claybrinck had an opportunity to show why his
minions used to call him by the military rank of colonel. He analysed the events, drew a
map of the settlement, located the defences on it, and excogitate a new scheme for
conquering it.
This time, the gangsters were to attack on foot. Landing by hoppers had proven to be a
costly attempt for doing it the easy way. For sure, the villains did not want to walk several
kilometres across the lands to reach the central buildings of Sherbetor’s Plantation. Yet,
that was still much better than getting shot like a clay pigeon while still defenceless in the
air, Claybrinck told the gangsters. After having disseminated the map, the venerated
villain leader expounded his new plan. The gangsters were to approach the vicinity of the
settlement by hopper, flying close to the ground, out of sight from the defenders. Then,
they were to park their machines in locations where the vehicles could still not be seen
from the buildings. By foot, the gangsters were to approach the settlement. They should
keep covered by either vegetation or the uneven ground all the time, moving along
narrow defiles, gullies, any kind of hollow ways. Claybrinck detailed all those natural
conditions and showed each and every group where to move and even how to move. He
had calculated the angle of vision and the glacis that was potentially subjected to shelling
from the buildings of Sherbetor’s Plantation. He advised the gangsters on where danger
loomed and where safe places where, where they could move unseen and where they
needed to get across quickly. He described the cover that was available and how to use it
and where the people better did not go and should not remain. Then, the renewed
attempt of taking Sherbetor’s Plantation began.
As planned by Claybrinck, the gangsters moved by hopper to the rim of the combat
theatre. There, they landed, exited their vehicles and started moving closer to the
settlement. From inside the premises, the renewed attempt was recognised as such and
the leadership team of the defenders soon had analysed the new plan. Fighting back this
time would be very different from the successful repulse of the first wave. That had been
more like shooting unsuspecting clay pigeons. It was a peculiar coincidence that Ben
Sommer and Ed Arn described the events of the first assault the villains had started with
the same words that Lom Claybrinck also had used.
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The gangsters were no soldiers and they were not as disciplined as would be good for
their own health and survival. Despite their supreme boss having detailed to them here to
go and how to go there, like where to run and where to crawl and where to go ducked,
many of them believed to know it better. They paid dearly for their naïve believe. Sniping
from their secured positions between sandbags, walls, from behind rocks, out of narrow
windows, louvres and ventilation slots, the defenders sniped mercilessly at the oncoming
villains. Many of them fell before they could themselves even get close to a chance of
firing off well-aimed shots.
Yet, the situation was dangerous even for the defenders of Sherbetor’s Plantation. There
was a walled perimeter and a fence, because that planet was home to a range of perilous
predators. Such a wall, being set up against wild animals, was different in nature from
defences set up against warriors or any kind of armed assailants. A wall blocked the sight
and it could serve the enemy as cover, too. Claybrinck had well understood that and had
based his plan on that insight; among other. Yet, despite the good intellectual preparation
and scheduling of the renewed attack, the gangsters found themselves between a rock
and a hard place again. After some intense shooting, their second wave of assault failed
like the first had done.
Beaten, they ultimately returned to their hoppers and moved back to their gathering place,
where Lom Claybrinck and the other gangster bosses again analysed the situation. For the
man whom his minions addressed with colonel, the situation was clear: The failure
resulted from non-adherence to his plan. People had moved where they should not, they
had not moved where they should, they had shot from and at the wrong positions and
they had done all other kinds of nonsense. There was no use scolding them. For one, the
biggest fools had already earned the Darwin Award, the ultimate decoration for any
moron; and then, scolding people who had just received a terrible beating wasn’t usually
resulting in anything good.
For while, Lom Claybrinck pondered peeved about the difficulty to find sensible,
intelligent, willing, motivated, skilled, disciplined, and obedient personnel in these days.
In the books and in the movies, it was much easier for bosses to recruit willing and able
co-operators. In those old stories about the Mafia, the Triads, and Camorra, the Cosa
Nostra, the drug cartels, and the human traffickers, a boss would just have to give a
command and it was then it was implemented immediately and completed with great
success. The boss would give a wink and the minion would understand that it meant ‘kill
that fellow’ or ‘rob this bank’ and that fellow would be dead soon after or this bank would
be robbed with the loot delivered right in front of the respective boss’ feet. Oh, these
were the good old hay-days of crime, when able, intelligent crime leaders were not let
down by dumb gun fodder who had nothing better to do than play sitting duck for alien
snipers. Oh, that galaxy was in shambles, this world was a mess.
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Having self-pitied himself sufficiently, Lom Claybrinck started scheming again. His mind
was quick and sharp when it was not clouded by the influence of intoxication. Currently,
he was sober. Some liquid other than alcohol was in his thoughts at the moment: Good
old plan water. Not any water, though, but the aquatic substance running in the riverbed
through those rolling plains. A broad river combined with clear sky could be an impressive
sight at daytime but at nigh time, it could be source of a convenient obscuration of that
sight: fog. When the sky was clear, the air cooled down at night. Clouds kept the warmth
but a clear sky let it escape into outer space. When such a river, or any other body of
water, was nicely warm, heated up by the respective sun’s rays or by volcanic activity or
whatever, fog often formed. The bigger the difference between the surface temperature
of the liquid water and the air temperature, the more likely fog resulted. Many other
factors also determined the formation of fog, its density, and its persistence. Claybrinck
was of no expert on the climate of Sherbetor’s Plantation but he reckoned, based on
experience and his understanding of the matter, that there was a good chance to get a
foggy night.
‘Look’, Lom Claybrinck said to the other gangster bosses and some of the ordinary villains
standing around. ‘They can shoot us because they can see us. If there is fog, they cannot
see us. If they cannot see us, then they cannot shoot us. There should be fog tonight. If it’s
dense and tight, we can just stroll over leisurely and loot the place and they won’t even
know where we are and what we do before all is lost for them and all is won by us!’
This plan sounded good to the other gangsters, who were frustrated and ill-motivated
after two un-successful attempts to rob the place that had resulted in nothing but losses.
Therefore, they agreed to the new scheme and retreated to have a rest. Claybrinck
considered that a good idea. Who sleeps does not sin, he thought, attaching his own,
unique meaning to the term of sin. In this respect, sin was the act of violating his own,
personal will. In his view, it was any action that infringed the ideal relationship between a
subordinate, minion gangster and him, which consisted of complete obedience on their
side and supreme power to command on his. Claybrinck understood as sin any diversion
from the ideal order for gangster living, as conceptualised by himself. To sin he had
defined as to miss the mark of his demands.
Those were the ideas that Lom Claybrinck was harbouring concerning his fellow gangsters
and their obligations and duties and his own position. Those were his ideals. The man was
realist enough; at least as long as he remained sober, to understand that his subjects held
a significantly different opinion. They rather thought of their leader as primus inter pares,
as the first among equals. He was the guy who cased the coups, who came up with the
ideas and then had to do the organisation. Like in any organisation, the views of
importance, tasks, skills, and jobs differed between the leadership and the followers. In
Claybrinck’s gang, even the definition of who was leading and why and with how much
per he should be bestowed wasn’t universal. But as the man down-to-earth enough he did
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not talk about it. In his opinion, it was anyway useless telling a moron how moronic he
was and that he was so much better off being led by an intelligent person because the
fellow simply lacked the intelligence of understanding to grasp that simple fact. So, it was
better to lead those villains by indirect means, if and when they were slow to comply with
his directly given advice. And again, Claybrinck was in a state of self-pity. He had come to
Sherbetor’s Plantation with more than four hundred men and now just about half of them
were still fully deployable; the others had been shot; either shot dead or wounded. Many
hoppers had been lost. Had he as a leader not done everything right? Had he not sent
spies? How could he know that these were blind and deaf; must have been because they
neither saw nor heard anything. Had he not detailed his men how to approach the
settlement and had they not chose to behave suicidal instead?
That self-pity led Lom Claybrinck to some other though. There had been too much of
unpleasant surprise in his life lately. That had to end; at least it should be minimized. He
was fully aware that despite this region of the galaxy being comparatively sparsely
populated, it was not unpopulated. Thus, they were not alone. At the moment, it stood
half bad, or half good, depending on the point of view. About half the men were rendered
useless, and approximately half the hoppers, too. Yet, there were only those enemies
inside the central settlement of Sherbetor’s Plantation to fight by now. If some other folks
came along from outside, the militia from Sicona Ecaro Station for example, matters
would turn much worse quickly. Having had too many unpleasant surprises already during
the recent past, Claybrinck decided upon the necessity to reduce these deleterious events.
He therefore sent some hoppers to patrol the vicinity in hyperspace. There were a limited
number of streams passing by Sherbetor’s Plantation within reasonable reach and he still
had enough men and hoppers to keep a check on them. Those gangsters in their
hyperspace machines couldn’t prevent the militia from Sicona Ecaro Station from coming
to Sherbetor’s Plantation but they could at least warn their comrades. Lom chose the
most reliable and understanding men among the crowd. There was no use in giving that
important task to some duffer who just wanted to sleep and who would promise to
comply but actually land behind the next hill and have a calm time with a good nap. He
needed people who did what they were supposed to do. Better even, those people would
fulfil their task because they understood the importance it carried.
Lom Claybrinck wasn’t the only person thinking about the broad river, the clear sky, and
the fog that could result from their combination if the air cooled down in the night and
some other factors worked in concert to that mist. The same idea had come to several of
the defenders of Sherbetor’s Plantation; both aliens and humans. They started preparing
for that case.
Ben Sommer was discussing those counter-measures with Mrs. Sherbetor, when one
Varanoide came and said something to Ben in his own alien language, which Sommer
understood sufficiently well. Sommer froze for a moment. The message was definitively
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disconcerting. The lady of the plantation realised that something was wrong and asked
about it. Ben was almost ready to tell her, though ultimately he decided to keep the news
from her; at least for now. He Sommer told her that matters were under control and that
the Varanoide had just informed him of some minor issue that he would soon take care of.
Mrs. Sherbetor wasn’t convinced, though, that all was really well and wanted to find out if
there was reason for her to worry by insisting on a detailed reply elaborating on
circumstantial conditions of the defensive measures that were yet to be taken. It was also
her plantation and she persisted on her right to know. In that moment, when it became
tight for Ben Sommer, who wasn’t used to declining anything to a lady yet maintaining her
favourable mood, Ed Arn came to join them. Sommer used that welcome interruption to
speak about something else; not the news that the Varanoide had reported. There was
some issue and the other and Ben somehow made Mrs. Sherbetor half-way belief that
one of these was identical with the disconcerting message that the alien had brought.
When the lady of the plantation had left to take care of other matters that were pressing,
Sommer told Arn what the Varanoide had reported. Some alien patrol had seen three
hoppers being pushed out of hyperspace by several other space-faring machines. These
three hoppers had been on their way back from Sicona Ecaro to Sherbetor’s Plantation.
They were the hoppers of the plantation’s landlord, his brother the engineer, the
engineer’s wife and their daughter. The ladies had travelled together in one hopper. The
Varanoide patrol registered those three vessels as belonging to the said persons because
of their distress signals. When they were pushed out of the hyperspace current by some
rogue riders, they signalled for help. Because there was only a single alien to witness the
events and his hopper was un-armed, like practically all such machines, he could not
prevent it. He was anyway calling himself lucky that he got away because the said
hyperspace stream had broken down. It may take an hour or two till it would recover.
Though the attacking hoppers had not sent any signals, the Varanoide who had witnessed
the events was certain that they belonged to the gangsters. Ben Sommer and Ed Arn
believed the same. Thus, they had to assume that the brothers Sherbetor and the
engineer’s wife and daughter were now in custody of the villains; if they weren’t dead
already.
What had happened? As they had intended, these four people were on their way back
from shopping at Sicona Acaro Station. They had chosen to take a particular, very narrow
hyperspace current because this way passed by an especially beautiful gas planet with
clearly visible rings and some interesting moons. They did this tourist-thing and then
moved on toward Sherbetor’s Plantation. On their way back home, they encountered one
of the patrols that Lom Claybrinck had sent out. That patrol was just randomly rushing
around when they realised the three hoppers with the brothers and the two ladies.
Because the hyperspace stream they were all travelling along was narrow and not very
robust, the villains just had to manoeuvre coarsely to make it collapse. That break-down
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catapulted everybody back into normal space. There, the gangsters captured the
Sherbetors’ hoppers and the persons therein.
Seb Melch and Achesh Akanem were called to confer with Ben Sommer and Ed Arn. That
the villains now had hostages changed the whole situation. Achesh Akanem was a bit
reserved when it came to the evaluation of the changed situation and the estimation of
further event. He held the view that humans shall be better suited to predict the actions
of members of their own species. When it came to questions of tactics, defence, and
possible liberation attempts, the Varanoide chieftain was fully engaged again, though. Still,
even he agreed with the conclusion that Claybrinck and his evil followers were no going to
kill their hostages; at least not immediately. The villains may later, to make their
statement more assertive, start murdering one by one of the hostages, with the possible
exception of one captive as the last item to be for extortion. The gangsters were believed
to most likely be waiting with this for some time, though; at least till after Claybrinck had
the chance to put forward his demands.
What to do when these demand were put forward by the gangster boss; or his emissary?
Ultimately, life was more important than property. The villains could only carry along
movable possessions; they could not carry away the plantation as such; the ground, the
buildings. Those were real estate and such immovable property was safe from being
removed by its attachment to the place. Not even the valuable machines could be robbed.
It was ready coins and specie of gold and silver and some other high-value density good
that the gangsters could demand. In essence, the real question to solve was how to make
sure that nothing bad happened to the hostages.
Then, of course, also the issue with the upcoming fog remained. Evening was approaching
and the sun was soon going to set, had already reached the horizon and now sent her last
yellow rays like liquid gold across the rolling plains that surrounded the central settlement
of Sherbetor’s Plantation. Some fine mist had started coming from the broad river as soon
as its surface was covered by the shadow thrown from the river bank. The leadership
team of the defenders saw that urgent preparations had to be taken. They determined
that soon after the buildings of the plantation were covered in fog, some defenders had to
exit the fencing and install an early warning system. That was to consist of thin, fine
threads put on straws some ten to fifteen centimetres above the ground. They were to
wrap around the settlement in some distance; at best in a staggered, scaled sequence.
Those thing threads were to lead back into the defence positions and would have little
bells or other alarm systems at this end. Thus, if anyone approached from outside, he
might touch such a thin thread, causing the bell to ring, and betray his position.
These precautions were required because the gangsters could still try to sneak their way
into the premises, despite now having hostages. Nothing could be taken for granted.
Before the sun finally surrendered to the dark night and the upcoming fog, Ed Arn sent his
hopper quickly up into the sky, had it record a high-resolution, multi spectral video
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coverage of the surrounding land and then come back again. The machines was equipped
with lots of data recording and signal detection equipment, and a host of different sensors.
The data caption delivered a good picture of the current situation. The disadvantage of
that operation was to give the gangsters a potential that even more than they suspected
was strange with the defenders of the settlement. A New Triumph Hyper Rocket X was an
absolutely rare sight in this part of the galaxy and the villains might find something fishy
about one being present here. In order to avoid making the gangsters too suspicious, Ed
Arn had dismounted the external weapons of his hopper before he had it raise and drop
again in this flash-type reconnaissance mission.
When the data and the video coverage was analyse by the leadership team of the
defenders, it turned out that it was worth it. The evaluation revealed that the villains had
set up a ring of positions just outside the range of the defenders weapons. Some of the
parked hoppers were to be seen; those had not been camouflaged properly. A location
where most likely the hostages were being held captive was identified as well as the most
likely place of Claybrinck’s current headquarter; if that robber’s den deserved the title.
It was assumed among the leading defenders that the gangsters would alter their
positions once fog and darkness covered their traces. Everybody was aware of Lom
Claybrinck being addressed by his followers as colonel. If there was any reason at all to
call him so, the gangster boss could safely be assumed to order a reshuffling after his men
would become invisible from afar. He should have kept people observing the plantations
central settlement, if he was worth his title. Actually, Claybrinck had done so, he had
given that order. But because his minions looking at the defended premises had
positioned themselves in the east of those fenced buildings and the sun set in the west of
them, the observers were blinded by the low sun’s bright rays and did not see Arn’s
hopper rise up and drop down. As they didn’t see it, they didn’t report it. As they didn’t
report it, Claybrinck had not knowledge about that. Still, he had already determined to
have his men move after darkness and fog made that possible without attracting
attention. Had he known about the sudden jump to the sky of that hopper, he would have
moved them differently, though. But because he had to make do with whatever villains
wanted to follow him, even if they were not so very smart, fate was working against him
in this respect.
Still, Claybrinck had one more trump card; or as a matter of fact, he had four: Both
brothers Sherbetor and the two ladies belonging to one of them. For the moment, the
gangster boss had told those villains who guarded the hostages to treat them well. He had
also asked two of his better, more intelligent followers to try get some information out of
the captives concerning the buildings and installations of the settlement. For the moment,
though, no torture was to be applied.
It was already dark when Lom Claybrinck contacted the defenders of Sherbetor’s
Plantation. He informed them that he was holding the brothers and the ladies, mother
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and daughter, and that he wanted to exchange them against a certain valuables, mainly
gold and silver, all coins and specie, and some other high-worth goods that could be
transported easily. Claybrinck understood well that he could not keep laying siege to
Sherbetor’s Plantation for ever; in two or three days he and his followers should have
cleared out from here, because the risk was increasing that relieve was coming from
Socona Ecaro Station. Sherbetor’s Plantation was the biggest agricultural business by far
in the area and people a dozen light years around got their foodstuff from here. Such a
place was naturally frequented. Sooner or later, news would spread that something was
wrong here and then people would come to check for it. In short: Claybrinck felt under
pressure. At the moment, the pressure was still light, but he already anticipated it getting
more severe with time passing by.
Of course, once it was known that Claybrinck had taken the Sherbetor brothers and those
two ladies hostages, the defenders expected that demand. What should they do? Even if
they paid, it wasn’t clear that the hostages would be returned safely. The gangsters were
capable of taking them along and then successively demand more and more ransom,
demand the plantation to be sold for ransom and what not all else.
Therefore, the defenders’ leadership team contemplated the possibility of liberating the
hostages. It was in that context that Seb Melch remembered the canal again, that led from
the buildings to the river. Actually, it was a freshwater canal and brought water from the
river to the settlement. Anyway, it was big enough for men and aliens to pass through and
it was long enough to bring then beyond the gangster’s lines. Apart from that idea, Seb
Melch had another pleasant surprise in stock. When shopping for needful equipment way
back on planet Nosubig Egaso, Melch had acquired passive acoustic-to-optic converters.
Those were nothing but sophisticated microphones that used naturally occurring sounds
to create a picture. The transformation of acoustic data onto optical information took
place in a small processor and was pictures were then displayed in special googles. With
such devices, people could see even in extreme fog. It turned out that Ed Arn also had two
of them in his hopper. Together, the defenders of Sherbetor’s Plantation had six such
gadgets. With that equipment at hand and the knowledge about the canal leading below
the enemy lines into the back of the hostile besiegers, the decision to try a liberation
mission was almost self-evident.
To provide for the time that such an operation needed, the answer to Claybrinck’s
demand for ransom had to be of retarding character. Following this requirement, Ben
Sommer had sent a message to the gangster boss that his demands would be met by the
next morning. To make it all more credible, Sommer gave two reasons. First, he claimed
that it was taking time to collect the money and the other valuables demanded. Then,
because of the dense fog, any exchange of hostages and ransom could not take place now.
Nobody was able to see anything and no well-arranged deal was possible under such
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conditions. Ben purposely emphasised that the defenders of Sherbetor’s Plantation did
not want to act during the foggy night because they weren’t able to see.
Claybrinck was content with the reply. He felt that it was all a bit too easy, though.
Somehow, he had expected more and longer resistance; tougher negotiations. Still, he
was told that he’d get what he demanded and there was a good chance that this was to
come true. Just some little nagging feeling of something fishy beclouded his happiness.
Out of customary distrust, Claybrinck ordered his minions to get closer to the plantation
headquarter and be on alert. Maybe those defenders just wanted to win time, were
waiting for relief, knew something that he did not. For a moment, Claybrinck had
considered getting his gangsters into the defended premises by hopper. The fog should
prevent them from being detected. But then, flying around with hoppers at near-zero
visibility was not advisable at all. He might lose more men through accidents and even by
friendly fire than from enemy action. Using active radar was tantamount to suicide
because radar detectors were very cheap and thus widespread. Those could be bought for
the price of a snack and people loved to have them. So, he better let it be. Loosing too
many people was bad for morale and bad for fighting power, too, because dead gangsters
didn’t fight.
Clouded by dense mist were also the settlement and all the rolling plains to both sides of
the mighty river. The canal was long and it was inconvenient and exhausting to wade
through the chest-high water for more than two hours. The group launching for the
liberation of the hostages consisted of Sommer, Melch, Arn, Lentbender, Ross Stark,
Honourable Boman, and sixteen Varanoides. Achesh Akanem and Tom Grand remained
inside the premises to lead the defence, should that be necessary. In case of an attack
from the villains, Tom Grand was to lead the loggers and the alien chieftain was of course
commanding his warriors.
Ben Sommer and his assault detachment that set off to liberate the hostages now came to
the most dangerous part of their advance: the end of the tunnel. If the enemies had
detected it, or even if they were only suspicious of something fishy, they could have taken
counter-measures like posting sentinels, keeping snipers in waiting, or laying booby-traps.
With extreme caution and very slowly, securing diligently every small stretch of their way,
the group worked their way forward to exit. There was no sign of danger inside the tunnel,
though. At the very end, there the canal was fed by the river; a removable metal lattice
was attached. It was to prevent dangerous or annoying animals and other un-invited
creatures to enter the tunnel. The lattice was held by a latch; easy to handle for intelligent
being but beyond the grasp of the usual animal. Before moving the grid of metal bars, Ben
Sommer asked one of the Varanoides to sniff around if he could smell anything suspect.
These aliens had a wonderful sense of smell. The warrior found nothing suspicious.
Sommer used the acoustic device to search for dangers with it. No issues came up. Thus
reassured, he opened the lattice and the group left the tunnel.
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Around the end of the canal, lots of shrub and dense vegetation obscured the fact that
there was a tunnel leading from the river right into the settlement. The adventurers of the
assault detachment made their way through the thorny shrub. Then, they crawled up the
river bank. Once they were on the flat land, they first had the Varanoides sniff in all
directions again. Then, Ben Sommer, Ed Arn, and one experienced, senior warrior of the
Varanoides came together for a quick briefing. In the meanwhile, the others secured the
surrounding. The alien spoke only little of the human lingua franca and Ed Arn understood
nothing of the Varanoide language. Therefore, the conversation literally came to be very
brief. Teams were grouped with each comprising one human and three or four Varanoides.
According to sensor and video scan Ed Arn had his well-equipped hopper do just before
the sunset and the rise of the thick fog, some likely positions of the gangsters were known.
Claybrinck may have moved his men but most likely he did not move them very far.
Hoppers were not to be used under these conditions on the basis of plain sight only and
the defenders had detected no use of active radar. Because passive radar devices were
vastly more expensive and also much bigger, the defenders assumed that the villains
possessed none of these. Simple radar detectors came at a dozen a dime, were thimblesize and very wide-spread. With these, anyone could now if he was being touched by
radar or if there was any radar operating around him. Slightly bigger detectors indicated
the direction from where the beam came. Many adventurers in the free areas of the
galaxy used these; mounted them on their rifles. Much cheaper than night-vision goggles,
these gadgets worked also in foggy and even dusty conditions and safeguarded the user
from becoming easy prey of enemies sniping from the dark.
The executive team of the assault detachment shortly reflected upon the distances that
the gangsters could have moved on foot since their locations were detected last.
Claybrinck most likely had his villains come closer to the central settlement of Sherbetor’s
Plantation; and if only in an attempt to monitor it. The hostages were probably not moved
closer to the beleaguered agricultural outpost; rather the opposite. According to these
considerations, the different teams were then scheduled to search for the captives at a
number of locations. Those locations were determined by the analysis of the environment
and the gangsters’ habits and observed previous behaviour.
Then, the groups got going, each into the determined direction to check at the scheduled
places. They had laser-gyroscopes with them to know their position amidst the dense fog.
The Varanoides in each team were sniffing their way while the human used technology
like the night vision goggles and the acoustic-optical Converter. Together, the members of
each team complemented their skills and equipment to form a veritable force. The
Varanoides sense of smell directed them on hundreds of meters. The human’s technical
equipment gave them a good scope of a couple of dozen meters around their position.
The night vision devices were good for looking at traces left on the ground. Because of the
dense fog, the range of visibility was very low but when it came to looking at foot prints
and such tracks are typically being left by people moving around, the night vision goggles
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did come handy. When it came to close encounters with gangsters, then again the
superior Varanoide senses provided an advantage. With still about two hundred villains
around, it happened a few times that a troop of the liberation detachment came close to
some gangsters. If the hostile forces were superior in number, the righteous adventurers
avoided them. If the enemies were few, they were neutralised.
Because the area to be covered was large and the assault detachment that had sallied
forth to liberate the hostages was moving slowly by foot, several hours passed by. Time
was running and yet no traces of the captive Sherbetors were found. A few more villains
met with their sad fate, though. Thus, the time spend wasn’t entirely wasted. The number
of enemies was reduced and that was beneficial in case of a renewed combat. It turned
out that Claybrinck had ordered his gangsters to close in on the settlement and to keep a
watch. He did not intend to attack again this night. Possibly the villains might not have
followed him, had he demanded them to storm the perimeter defence anyway. Those
chaps wanted to live to enjoy their loot. Being promised to be handed over the ransom by
the morning of the coming day, they felt little motivation to risk their lives for what they
could get for free in just a couple of hours. Being alone or in small teams in the dark and
boring apparent calm of the night, many of the gangsters were sleeping. Radio checks
should not be done because that would betray the villain’s positions. Rolling out glassfibre cables for secure, radio-free communication wasn’t within the means of those
gangsters. Military personnel might have done it, plain old villains did not. It was to their
own detriment that they slept and that they lacked the communications network. Many
sleeping villains woke up dead in the afterlife.
It was the team of Seb Melch who finally found the hostages. Probably in order to
minimize the number of sentinels required for guarding them, the gangsters had kept
them all together. This was a mistake on the side of the villains but it was very
advantageous for the liberators. Once the small detachment of adventurers had reason to
suspect that the captives were close to them, they spread and surrounded the sentinels.
There was one more gangster guard than members of the liberation team. One of the
rescue team thus had to neutralise two of the villains. Seb Melch thought that he should
be the one to accomplish that task. One big Varanoide signalled objection, though. Luckily,
Seb Melch spoke and understood his dialect decently. Finally, Melch agreed to leave it to
that experienced warrior to make an end to a couple of sentinels. It was left to this one to
give the signal to attack. Everyone was given one herbal candy to keep it in his mouth.
Once he had reached the perfect position to strike, he should open his mouth and breathe
out orally. The aliens could smell the signal then and also know where and whom it came
from. For the human gangster sentinels, the smell was not recognisable; neither was it for
Seb Melch. Therefore, Melch was relied upon to cope with the situation alone. The most
experienced of the Varanoides guided him till he was close enough to the enemy destined
for him. Then, he left and pursued the two victims who would turn his prey.
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When every individual of the assault team had reached the optimal position, the leading
alien warrior gave the signal to attack. It was an inconspicuous sound that bare ears of
humans would not detect. Only Seb Melch was getting it, because his electronic gear
registered it for him and passed it on reinforced and modulated.
All the gangster sentinels were neutralised within less than two seconds. The liberators
caught their falling bodies and laid them to the ground softly so that no noise was made.
Then, they closed up to the captives. The hostages first feared when they saw a strange
human and several aliens whom they did not know either. They were afraid of having
gone from bad to worse. They had not seen aliens among the gangsters yet but those
Varanoides who suddenly appeared should also be villains, as they were among the
gangsters; or weren’t they? It took Seb Melch a few sentences to make the hostages
believe that they were being rescued. When the captive Sherbetors had finally recognized
what had happened, they were all ready to cooperate. It was a great relieve for Seb Melch
that the two ladies, woman and young daughter, were so marvellously composed.
Actually, they were calmer than the brothers Sherbetor. Those also held themselves up
well but the two women amazed Melch. He had feared some hysteric scenes or that the
women would have to be carried back, pleading feebleness or whatever other quickly
ready reason to extract some special favours. Yet, nothing of that sort happened. They
even asked for weapons to defend themselves in the case of an encounter with any
gangster. Seb Melch was about to falling in love. Hat the mother not been married already
and had the daughter not been too young yet, he would have asked them for their hand;
anyone of them or both, that didn’t matter to him. Women who took care of themselves
were his dream.
After a lengthy hike across the rolling plain littered with gangsters and dead bodies of
villains, the successful liberation detachment reached back to the entrance of the tunnel.
It was again a dangerous moment, because the gangsters could have discovered the canal
in the meantime. Seb Melch hat left a small detector device here. It should register the
appearance of anyone. He found it and checked what it had recorded. Several animals had
come by but apparently no humans yet. What may have happened to the other teams,
Melch thought? He looked at the time and saw that the night would remain dark for just
about one hour more. Probably, the other members of the liberation team were still out
to search for the hostages. As they could not communicates with each other, because the
use of radio would betray their activities to the villains, no group could know if the other
had succeeded. They all had gone to a certain area, demarcated before, to search there. If
they had not found the captives there, they might have increased their search radius after
covering what they were supposed to scour for the hostages.
Seb Melch considered waiting for the other groups. The experienced warrior urged for
going back to the secured premises, though. Melch also remembered that the walk
through the tunnel would take about two hours. If they entered the canal now, they’d be
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back at the central settlement of the plantation approximately one hour after sunrise. By
then, the warming rays of the morning light could have dissolved the fog enough for the
gangsters to realise what had happened, if they didn’t know it already. Then, probably, all
hell was to break lose. It was better if the freed Sherbetors were already back home. The
other adventurers would also be useful there, helping to defend the settlement against
the expected onslaught. The Varanoide also told Seb that his fellow tribal warriors were
to smell that he and the freed captives had come through here. Therefore, Melch had
himself convinced and the group entered the tunnel and made their way back to the
safety of the well-defended agricultural installations.
Somehow, perhaps by his amazing good luck alone, as the worst people are often those
who are most lucky, Claybrinck had escaped the silent nightly carnage. Like so many times
before, he had survived. This time, he did not even lose his ears or get beaten up. He got a
bad surprise, though, when he realised the full extent of the massacre. Claybrinck had
spent the night badly; he found little sleep because worries kept him awake and when he
fell asleep, he had nightmares that woke him up soon again. Claybrinck had stayed on
somewhat higher ground over the night. He wanted to be on a higher position to keep the
overview, even when there was nothing to see. Further from the river and on a higher
altitude than most of the other gangsters, he was spared from the battue, because the
dense fog did not enwrap him as tightly as it did with most of his subordinates. When the
early rays of the rising sun coyly started lightening up the horizon a bit, Claybrinck saw the
reddish lining over the hills and had a very bad feeling. With the end of the night, the
dense fog started thinning. Those gangsters who had been sent to the close vicinity of the
settlement to observe if anything fishy was going on there had to come back, lest they
found themselves well within the shooting range of the defenders, once clear sight
prevailed again. And yes, these ones who had been sent to guard the perimeter and who
had obeyed that instruction did come back. It was the lazy ones, those who had thought
that in the dense fog during the hours of darkness nobody was seeing anything anyway,
neither their boss nor the snipers inside the compound.
The defenders’ nightly assault detachment had looked for the hostages to free them.
Those captives were estimated to be kept rather away from the settlement. Therefore,
the gangsters who had obeyed their evil master and gone to the close vicinity of the
settlement’s perimeter walls had survived the night. They had not met with the avengers
because those were busy literally sniffing around for the hostages elsewhere and killing
any villain that found on the way. With the very first rays of the sun coming through the
fog, even the last of those gangsters who had spent the night under the plantation’s mural
surrounding retreated again to a seemingly safer distance. On their way back they saw
some of their killed companions. To them, it seems as if they were going into trouble
instead of getting out of looming trouble. Behind them, there was the settlement and
there were the snipers. Those would start shooting soon on anything that was within
range and had two legs. But in the direction they were going to, there were terribly
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mutilated dead bodies. They showed the typical signs of large-calibre sub-sonic dumdum
projectiles. Head were missing altogether or had burst like watermelons smashed with a
sledgehammer. Chest wounds looked like crater, as of a huge predator hat taken a large
bite out. Some bodies had slit throats.
Those bad news reached Claybrinck from anywhere. It soon became apparent that he
might have lost at least half his men during that night. But now only his men did he lose,
the hostages were also absent without leave. Asif that wasn’t already enough, some of
the defenders already started sniping at those gangsters who had not retreated fast
enough. The landscape around the settlement was formed by rolling plains. The surface of
the land was softly corrugated; the differences in altitude between the crests and the
troughs of these long, soft waves were small, consisted of just a few meters. Yet, in the
lower parts the fog remained for longer. Once a gangster walked through the fog in such a
soft vale and then moved a little uphill and his head popped out, it was immediately taken
under fire. The scene was like the shooting gallery of an amusement park; just that it
wasn’t fun for the folks who lost their head. While in the night, the assault detachment
used sub-sonic projectiles to remain silent, the defence snipers now shot with highvelocity ordnance. Shooting gallery: As soon as a gangster’s head popped out, it popped
off again, shot away by some invisible sharpshooter. Claybrinck wished he had marksmen
of that quality. If that massacre continued, he’d soon be alone again. He took a strong
binocular and looked anxiously over the field of disgrace, counting his fallen men. The
vanishing last remainders of the nightly fog released yet more dead bodies and pinned the
few guys who hadn’t yet made it out in time down. They could not cross the higher
ground and their misty cover was mercilessly torn away by the sun. Through his highresolution binocular, Lom Claybrinck saw super-sonic projectiles smashing into human
bodies.
It was time to go. His hostages had gone. More than three quarters of his men gad gone.
Many of the rest were in the processes of soon being gone, too. The chances of getting
anything out of Sherbetor’ Plantation other than a terrible beating were gone. Lom
Claybrinck clearly understood that he needed to go also; soon and fast. Having reached
that conclusion, he couldn’t even be bothered about collecting his possessions and taking
them along. His hopper was standing behind a hill, out of reach from the snipers. At least,
it was out of reach by now. If the defenders decided on a rapid excursion to conclude the
counterstrike with a crushing total victory, that may change soon. Therefore, Lom
Claybrinck ran. He did not retreat, he fled. Seeing their boss fleeing head over heels, the
remaining gangsters judged it a good idea to imitate their leader and run for their lives,
too. On the way, Claybrinck still had the quick-wittedness to inform his most important
aids and the other gangster bosses whom he could see by waving at them to come join
him in his survival.
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Lom Claybrinck ran for his life. The pulse of his panicking heart hammered in the wounds
on both sides of his head, where the ears belonged; those ears that an offended
Varanoide had cut off with a broken bottle, just because…well, the great gangster boss
dies not remember anymore what had enraged that alien so terribly. Claybrinck's lungs
were burning. The salty sweat dropped into his eyes and macerated the covering layers of
his wounds, making them burn terribly. Hastening along, Claybrinck stumbled and fell
down. Trying to catch himself with his hands, he hurt them too, sustaining some abrasions
and a few minor cuts that nevertheless started bleeding strongly. Maybe that was
because he exhausted himself so much that the high blood pressure and fast pulse rate
made his blood pour vividly out of every small wound. Whatever the reason why so much
blood flew out, it mixed with the salty sweat increased the inconvenience. Given his haste
and condition, he stumbled and fell again. Dirt came into the wounds at his hands. He
cursed and ran on. When Claybrinck finally arrived at his hopper, he had accumulated
several more reasons to feel bad. Without looking around, he jumped into his hopper and
started the machine. Just get out of here! Out of the corners of his eyes he saw that other
gangsters followed him suit. He didn’t care much at the moment. Getting away was the
priority that he had in his mind.
Later on, when his hopper had safely traversed the atmosphere and left Sherbetor’s
Planation behind, Lom Claybrinck started thinking more calmly again. Why didn’t that
plan work out well? What the heck happened to the good old days of crime when a robber
could just roam around and loot at will and get away with it, living large and prospering
happily on other peoples’ treasures? Wasn’t his plan to raid Sherbetor’s Plantation based
on his understanding of the place the riches it held? Weren’t most adventurers in several
light years around this place buying from Sherbetor? Wasn’t thus a good amount of
money to be obtained? Wasn’t it just an agricultural business settlement without heavy
defences? Couldn’t they have obtained so many needful things, from gold and silver to
many spare parts, and even scrumptious provisions for their further travel?
So, why didn’t it work? Was his plan bad? Claybrinck asked himself and subsequently
answered himself that his plan had been great; must have been great because he was a
great person. Great persons make great plans. When great plans don’t work out well, then
that’s because they’re not implemented well. A strategy can be however wonderful, if it’s
not executed properly then it will most likely not succeed. The same holds true for any
tactical approach, too. That was clear as crystal to Lom Claybrinck, now, that he thought
about it. But of course, his thinking fast led him to the deep understanding that he had
known it all before anyway; long before. There were too man duffers around who acted
irresponsibly. Wasn’t it unjustifiable that his subordinates didn’t follow him on the word;
precisely and accurately? Wasn’t it by far enough if he did what he wanted? So, then, why
did everybody else also want to do what they wanted? Wasn’t it apparent that disaster
was to ensue each and every time when the other people followed their limited
intelligence? Wasn’t it actually highly rational for small minds to follow a great soul
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because only a splendid person like Claybrinck was capable to come up with such
bodacious plans like all those that were in his mind! Thus Lom thought, filled with deepfelt self-pity, and cursed and ranted in his hopper. Nobody could hear him now, but that
was to change again, he determined. People should hear him; but nor cursing and ranting.
They should listen to his promise of the assured quick richness that they could obtain at
ease and soon; if they just followed him.
Discommoded by the burning pain in his wounds on either side of his head, on his both
hands, his knees and elbows, which he had hurt when he stumbled and fell while running
away, Claybrinck was scheming again. He understood that some of his men were still
following; most of those who had survived apparently came along with him. That was
proof that they cherished him as a leader. Those were the men he could trust. Those were
the guys who were to become rich together with him, soon, very soon, for raiding
Sherbetor’s Plantation had been just a minor item on his grand list of rewarding targets
that were just waiting to be plundered. There was sheer endless bounty to be obtained
and all he needed was a few willing and able-bodies capital fellows to follow him. He’d
have to find them and to convince them and Lom Claybrinck was certain that he knew
where to find them and he would succeed in convincing them. The other gang members,
those who were coming back from Sherbetor’s Plantation together with him, were the
living witnesses that his plans were great and that only lack of trust in his leadership,
insubordination, and a detrimental deficiency of discipline on the side of his associates
had causes those issues that had haunted his adventures for some time now.
Oh, what a pity, Claybrinck lamented in silence, that a man in his position was subjected
to working with whomever he could find; that fate did not allow him to choose the best
swashbuckler but had to make to with the poor wretches and ruffians who were just
available and willing. Anyway, all complaints to the universe helped nothing, he had to
find a new set of motivated smooth customer because he could not do tackle his next
plans alone.
Back on Sherbetor’s Plantation, the great cleaning up was going on. The fighting had left
some litter here and there, created a mess in some quarters. The premises of the
plantation’s central settlement had to be tidies up again. Wrecked hoppers were to be
removed, bullet holes had to be mended, and some equipment needed repair. The whole
location was to be secured, too. The gangsters had fled. That was to be seen. Some villains
might have remained, though, and these had to be cleared out. Therefore, work was not
yet all over for the defenders of Sherbetor’s Plantation. Of course, the alertness was going
down but that could be baneful because nothing was more dangerous than a wounded
enemy. Thus, the perimeter was searched thoroughly and then all the land was combed
through where the gangsters had been. Beyond that, an additional cordon of security was
determined where the defenders scoured for remaining villains. At the end, very few
gangsters were found who were still alive. The Varanoides could not be bothered with
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taking captives. They were born hunters and had no understanding for the human
tradition of making prisoners and keeping them in prisons. Those few wounded villains
who had the great luck of being found by humans were treated with astonishing
consideration and their wounds were taken care of. The plantation’s human defenders
had all reason to just finish off the captives; treating them demanded resources and they
were still posing a threat; if not now than in the future. Yet, the victorious defenders
simply did not to have the heart to do that. Maybe that resulted from the presence of
several ladies on the premises.
Those ladies were anyway astonishing persons, many of the adventurers thought. Even
Ben Sommer wondered if he should not have told the lady of the plantation about the
hostage-taking right away, when it happened. She had held herself up bravely, as well as
any man around; in fact, even as good as the Varanoides, who were of a very different
species and born predators.
After the cleaning up had gone sufficiently well for some time and the remaining danger
was estimated to be low enough for the defenders to afford the absence of some
leadership personnel, Seb Melch, Duref, Lentbender, and Achesh Akanem took off to
follow the traces of the bandits. The gangsters were still many enough to leave
recognisable distortions in the comparatively narrow hyperspace currents that were
passing by here. Sherbetor’s Plantation was accessible by small spaceships via some
streams but most of the pathways here were rather slender. And even if the villains had
chosen one of the less feeble currents, their number was sufficient to cause recognizable
traces.
It were those individuals who had a personal grievance against the gangsters who set of to
follow them. Ben Sommer, on the contrary, who did see Claybrinck as a threat, too,
reckoned that he served his main aim of securing his enterprise at planet Tasik Perak best
by going there and taking care. He knew what Claybrinck planned and therefore did not
have to follow him. Before the small group of bloodhounds set off, Sommer and Melch
had a short conversation about it. Seb expressed his notion that Claybrinck should be
hunted down before he could cause more harm to more people. Sommer thought that it
did not make much sense to run after a fellow who could be met at one’s own leisure at a
pre-determined place. They all being adult enough to take their own decisions, resolved to
part for the moment and join later.
Thus, Seb Melch and the human avengers followed the fled gangsters into hyperspace, led
my Achesh Akanem who was excellent in discovering traces there. They soon found that
Claybrinck had returned to Wasage Ankyun. That was a hyperspace ride of about six hours.
The gangsters had several hours of advance. When the pursuers reached the vicinity of
Wasage Ankyun, there was evidence of many hoppers leaving from there. Achesh Akanem
signalled the other members of his team that the streams felt as if a large number of small
vessels were going the other way. And really, as the small group reached the site of the
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gangsters’ fair on the planet, everybody was already gone; almost everybody at least.
With nearly all the villains having disappeared, nobody was there anymore to ask for the
password that all invitees had to name for being admitted to the great fair of crime.
Among the ember of the smouldering bonfires, on a large plain littered with rubbish and
other remains of several hundreds of thousands of coarse and crude attendants, one
single man stood next to a wrecked hopper. Being gangsters, the others had just left him
alone. If that was by some evil design, because he had messed it up with the others,
because they had plainly forgotten him or for whatever reason else, he did not tell and he
wasn’t asked when Seb Melch and the group found him. The answers to those questions
were irrelevant for them. What they wanted to know was something different. And that,
the fellow told with pleasure, being glad about receiving some help now and being mad
about not having obtained it from his comrades; or the people whom he had believed to
be his companions.
What Seb Melch and Achesh Akanem and the other eager retaliator learned from that
lonely, left back wretch was that a certain Colonel Claybrinck had come here for the
second time to recruit a number of confederates for some big plan of his. That fellow, who
spoke so grandiose about all the beautiful bounty that was just waiting to be looted did
not look so good, the forgotten scamp told. Actually, that guy looked fairly much battered;
Seb Melch and the others were told. Therefore, this single guy has had no interest in
joining him on a new raid. If somebody looked successful, he by far did not have to
actually be successful. But if some guy already looked screwed up, there was a good
chance that his fate didn’t mean it well. If something is too good to be true, it usually isn’t
true, the lone loser recited an old adage. Anyway, about two hundred gangsters had
allowed themselves to be persuaded to follow that Colonel Claybrinck to some new big
thing. As one who had chosen not to take part, the fellow didn’t know what precisely it
was and where exactly it would take part. He didn’t care about it either as he assumed the
matter to become a suicide mission like only too many before. Other bandits had
complained about Colonel Claybrinck’s literally abrasive leadership style as this boss kept
on losing his men like wood loses sawdust when cut.
Seb Melch and Achesh Akanem conferred shortly about the lone loser, the information
that he provided, and what to do with him. The avengers had posed as gangsters
themselves to sound that fellow out. He was a bandit who had come to the great
gangsters’ fair to look for some gang to join on some raid. The guy was a bad person and
leaving him on Wasage Ankyun was like leaving him in prison; and therefore right where
the wretch belonged. Achesh Akanem was against leaving the guy here, because for the
Wasage tribe of the Varanoides, this place, which they called Candra Kornara, had
spiritual meaning. They came here to perform cultic rituals. Leaving a gangster here was
desecrating that place. Wasn’t it already bad enough that the galaxy’s villains had held a
crime fair here? When asked what to do with the lonesome loser whom even his own
comrades had forgotten or wilfully left behind, the alien tribal chieftain favoured the coup
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de grâce; to deliver him from evil and ill, Achesh Akanem suggested. Seb Melch, who was
more of a criminalist and thought in terms of crime and punishment could not find any
particular fault with the man and therefore hesitated to kill him. The poor wretch had not
mentioned a single crime of his, despite the group of the avengers posing as bandits. Thus,
the human fraction of the party found no guilt with him and no reason to have him killed.
Intimately, because Achesh Akanem and the other Varanoides who had joined the
revenge drive objected to leaving the guy here, he got his hopper repaired. After mending
this man’s machine, the vengeance detachment returned to Sherbetor’s Plantation. When
they came back, tired and exhausted, Ben Sommer only said: ‘I told you so!’
Because Ben Sommer wanted to continue the voyage to his final destination Tasik Perak
with all the members of his group together, the departure had to be postponed. The team
around Seb Melch and Achesh Akanem needed to rest first; they were exhausted and
would find it hard to follow safely. Thus, more than a full day was lost. On the other hand,
some information was retrieved from that fellow whom they had met on Wasage Ankyun
that confirmed Claybrinck’s intentions. Also, it was known now that the gangster boss had
again two hundred new villains at his service again.
Far from Sherbetor’s Plantation, where honourable adventurers rested to recuperate
strength for further demanding undertakings, three men sat in a little blockhouse. The hut
made of coarse wood belonged to some settler family who had set up their new home on
a planet named Baserri. Several hundred aspiring agriculturalists formed a rather lose
settlement with everyone having his own fixed abode on his own land. Like many settlers,
these ones were not living in great abundancy. Yet, they were friendly toward visitors. At
this moment, they had these three men as visitors, of whom one had bandaged ears and
hands. Baserri Station was close to that farmhouse and the settlers earned some
additional income by providing travellers with food and lodging, if requested. Those three
travellers whom the lady of the farmland catered for at the moment had only asked for
some meal. They were not even demanding and talked courteously. This was
unfortunately rare in that location, where tough language prevailed for the majority of
time. The lady of the house was glad to have apparently civilised guests and so she
treated them with extra friendliness.
Planet Baserri was far too unimportant to have its own space station. Baserri Station
therefor was a ground station and even that term was a euphemism; a stark exaggeration
of the very humble reality. The whole station consisted of a flat concrete slab where small
spaceships could land a barn and a couple of silos to store agricultural produce, and a
blockhouse used as waiting room and storage for luggage. A freight line operating small
spaceships had established regular service to and from Baserri Station. As the planet was
well-suited for agriculture and even the toughest adventurers, miners, loggers of all races
had to eat, the produce of that place had its market. People hadn’t got rich from farming
there, though they made a humble but independent living by toiling to exertion.
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It was this freight line running regular services through Baserri Station that had led the
three visitors to this modest location. They wanted to keep their eyes and ears open and
try to find if they could gather valuable information. Especially the one man among them
with the plenty of bandages had made bad experiences with surprises recently. He was
keen on avoiding this in the future. The three men had arrived with hoppers, which they
had parked in front of the blockhouse. The meek dimensions of the little farmhouse were
emphasised by the comparison with the hoppers; those machines weren’t big either.
Baserri Station was an intermediate stop when travelling from places like Sicona Ecaro to
Philhen Station and then further on to Arrano Buzutane. It was that connection to Arrano
Buzutane that interested the three hungry men. Philhan was a place where several
narrow hyperspace currents came by and met with the bigger Afon Bryn stream. Thus,
many lines of small spaceships ended there. The Afon Bryn hyperspace stream went past
Philhan and on to Arrano Buzutane. The goods and passengers moved on with bigger
vessels on the large larger current; that was usually faster, more convenient, and even
cheaper. The bigger the spaceship, the lower the fee per light year covered and ton
transported. That was called economies of scale. Some people did not understand that
relation and opprobriated the employees serving on the small vessels for allegedly
overcharging for under-servicing because they thought that the fare on little spaceships
should be smaller and that on big ones should be high.
But whatever the complaints these people had, they could change neither the physics of
hyperspace nor the laws of technology and economics. And two such chaps who had paid
some of their last money for their tickets just walked around within the locality of Baserri
station. They had come with different spaceships. One of them was waiting to get on with
another small vessel. The other one was hoping to make some money by fooling some
gullible fellows.
The one could not afford to pay for accommodation till his terminal connection was to
arrive. The other one was used to talk his way into the hearts and minds of people and
then get such things for free; like lodging and aliment. Strolling around, the one not
knowing what to do with his time and the other one looking for easy prey, they happened
to meet each other. The place was extensive but sparsely populated and among so few
people, folks accidentally seeing each other tended to flock together and talk.
One of the two gentlemen was in much better condition than the other one, or rather in a
less ill state of affairs. This one, with whom fate had meant it a little less hard, was an
extrovert person who liked to talk and easily made the acquaintance of people whom he
had never seen before. It was his biggest talent to charm himself into the heart of people
and then retrieve favours from them; as well as money for his services, dubious as they
were. But he wasn’t an entirely cold-hearted and brutish person. When he saw that the
other guy was much worse off, he asked what the matter was. The poor fellow whom he
addresses replied that he was hungry and had not eaten for days. His face bore clear
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witness of this condition, with caved in eyes and cheeks. Even before those days without
food, the man must have lived under depriving circumstances for some time. That was
apparent. The better-off fellow drew a good ration of victuals from his bag and gave it to
the hungry guy. That one already wanted to sink his teeth into the foodstuff, driven by
hones hunger, when he hesitated again. ‘What about you?’ he asked. ‘Will you have
enough for yourself?’
‘Don’t worry about me’, the better-off man replied. ‘I will for sure get as much as I need
very soon. So just fill your stomach and then once that need is satisfied, we can talk more!’
Once the need for food was stilled, time for talks had returned. The two gentlemen
introduced themselves. The worse-off man’s name was Jo Salter and the better-to-do
fellow called himself Jeff Kaum.
After they were not kind-of familiar with each other, the turn was on telling stories. Jeff
Kaum was curious to know what Jo Salter was in such a state of despair.
‘I worked on planet Slaykin’, Jo Salter began to narrate. ‘I have been working there for
quite some time; for several years. I was engaged in a range of more or less odd jobs and
then, finally, two year ago, I was lucky enough to find work with the shipping company
there on Slaykin. Somehow, a personal animosity with that planet’s most famous public
figure developed. He used to tell a lot of rubbish about the shipping company and then
especially about me, as I was the clerk there for handling the good. All that ever went
wrong anywhere this guy blamed on me; and on top of that he invented much more that
never had happened but sounded good. He spread this nonsense all over that world. Just
a couple of thousand people live there but still it hurts a lot when everybody on a whole
planet thinks that you’re a useless fool, good for nothing. It got worse and worse and
finally, I started complaining and then defending myself. This, though, made the other guy
mad. He loved to trample on me but he could not stand me putting forward the truth and
even producing proof of it. Slaykin being in the free areas of the galaxy, the other fellow
challenged me to a duel. Never in my life I had shot anyone; I hadn’t even used a gun,
despite the difficult jobs that I had done even in the wilderness. Well, in short, it was like
this: I was given a gun from somebody, when the determined hour came. We took up our
positions and when the calling came, we both shot. I hated that guy for whatever bad he
had spread about me but I wasn’t actually keen on killing him. I was told that with the
shots, the while issue would end; it was a kind of trial of courage, I was told. You may
think of me whatever you want but you must believe me that I am not a murderer. Even
when thinking about killing a person, I shuddered and my stomach cramped. So, when the
counting came to the final command, I pointed not on the man but into the empty air next
to him. Then, we both pulled the trigger and while I wasn’t hurt at all, the projectile from
my weapon had smashed right into his heart and devastated the man’s abdomen. He was
dead before anything could be done for him by the local general practitioner. I was later
told that probably my projectile had been a self-homing one. I had no idea what that was
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but I knew for sure that I was in trouble now, because the fellow had many friends; and
influential friends. There is nothing legal or official that they can do against me but I was
told that they would want to murder me treacherously; like have me shot in the back or
run over by some heavy machinery or something like that. So, I just had to get out of
there, no matter where to. Once away from that place, I’m safe. But unfortunately, I don’t
have a fortune to rely on. I need to work for my livelihood. Before getting away from
there, I just could bid farewell to my boss. He was the one who got me out with the
earliest spaceship, too. He also gave me a personal, handwritten letter to a friend of his
who is working in a similar position on planet Philhen. Therefore, I want to get there, to
Philhen. I just hope that this other gentleman recognises his friend’s handwriting, believes
in his buddy’s judgement and hires me.’ With these words, Jo Salter sank together like a
rubber boat that had a puncture. Then, he pulled out the said letter of recommendation
and showed it to Jeff Kaum. It was good to have something like this because all computer
stuff was too easy to hack and fake. Having been handed over the paper, Jeff Kaum read
the positive referral given in it.
‘Dear Bernard,
Please received my old clerk Jo Salter well. His ancestors are from Kudalian origin and he
is an honest, loyal, diligent, and industrious fellow. He had the bad luck of operating a
good weapon and thus turned his enemy to dust in a duel. For his own sake, Jo Salter has
to stay away from Kinsley for a while, till tempers have cooled down sufficient. The guy
whom he sent to hell was somebody with friends and influence in this village here and his
kin are keen to take revenge for that slaying. There is nothing judicial against Jo Salter and
he can be employed at ease. As a duel, the incident was covered by local customs. You
could do me a great favour if you hired Salter and kept him in your service till he can
return to me. He worked well as my clerk and because he’s trustworthy, I would
appreciate to have him back in this office here in some time.
Yours sincerely,
Darren’
Impressed and also astonished about the trust that Salter had developed in such a short
time to him, Kaum gave back the letter to his rightful owner. It was a nice piece of paper;
even carried a seal. Salter folded it and put the letter back into its envelope. It carried a lot
of legitimacy. Such a personal piece of paper with a man’s handwriting was much better
than some digital data set to transfer confidential messages.
Kaum looked at Salter with a strange kind of a smile; partially ironic and partially pitying.
‘I would have believed you without even reading this letter’, Kaum declared. ‘Anyone who
sees and hears you talking, right away knows that he has a thoroughly honest man in
front of him. You look and talk as if butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth. My case, in a way,
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is similar, for I am not a great adventurer either. I very much prefer to get along with my
mental skills, not with brute force. But as much as I can understand that you are anxious, I
would not have been that much afraid, had I been in your place as. I think you have let
them buffalo you’, Jeff Kaum evaluated Salters situation.
‘Oh now, the matter was really dangerous’, Jo Salter countered.
‘And you’re sure they sought your life’, Kaum asked for confirmation.
‘Certainly’, Salter answered. ‘I have had my experiences there. Otherwise, I would not
have left Slaykin. I also made sure that nobody except my boss Mister Sutton knew where
I was going, so that they could not send an assassin after me.’
‘You are confident that you will be received well on planet Philhen and that you will get a
position there as a clear again, aren’t you?’ Kaum checked with the obviously naïve man.
‘Yes, of course’, Salter answered like a young schoolboy. ‘Because Mister Sutton, my good
boss, and this Mister Hauteroy from Philhen, must be very good friends. He told me so!’
‘Fair enough’, Jeff admitted. ‘And how much do you think that you will get paid there?’
‘The same as with my previous job’, Jo answered frankly. ‘My pay was eight standard
silver coins per week and because I will have the same job, I should also get the same
salary.’
‘Hey, that ain’t no fortune, mate!’ Kaum proclaimed. ‘I know a positon where you could
make double as much and get free board and lodge on top of it.’
‘Oh, really’, Salter exclaimed, jumping up and beaming of joy. ‘That would be great. That’s
almost like getting rich.’
‘It won’t reach that far’, Jeff tried to placate a bit, being surprised about the excessively
positive response. ‘But double is definitively more than half’, he added, testing again
whether his vis-à-vis was a skilled conversationalist. But Salter just ironed over the pun.
‘Where can I get this job?’ Jo asked, obviously very pleased.
‘You can work with me’, Kaum replied.
‘With you?’ Salter sounded disappointed.
‘That’s correct’, Jo confirmed. ‘But it seems that you don’t have that much confidence in
me. You think that I’m overrating myself, ain’t you?’
‘Well’, Jo tried to backpedal because he felt that the other guy might be a bit offended by
his obvious lack of devoutness to the other one’s promises and his suspiciousness. ‘I don’t
know you so well’, he said humbly.
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‘That can be remedied’, Jeff Kaum. ‘My name you already know. Now, I will tell you my
profession. I’m a geologist with master and doctorate. I tell people where to find
underground whatever they want to find; be it water or gold or whatever else they desire.
You can work with me as my assistant and I can pay you at the proposed rate.’
‘But I don’t understand anything about geology’, Jo Salter objected.
‘And neither do I’, the geologist with master and doctorate confessed.
‘You don’t’, Salter uttered with surprise.
‘Nothing at all’, Jeff Kaum admitted proudly.
‘But if you have a master and a doctorate in the subject, how can that be?’ Jo asked
naïvely.
‘Of course I have a master and a doctorate’, Jeff insisted. ‘Of all people in the whole galaxy
I know that best because I bestowed those titles upon myself’, he recounted.
‘But, how can you do that’, Salter said with surprised astonishment and a good deal of
serious suspicion in his voice. The good man seemed to smell that something was fishy
about the self-bestowed doctor of geology.
‘Of course I can do that!’ Jeff Kaum insisted. ‘I can be openly frank to you, because I am
confident that you will accept my generous offer. Actually, I started off my professional
life as a tailor; then, I was a hairdresser, afterwards a dance instructor; later I founded an
educational institution for young ladies, as that one went down the drain, I took up the
accordion and was wandering musician. Since then I have gloriously succeeded in ten or
twenty other industries. I've experienced life and people and got to know them, and this
knowledge culminates in the experience that a clever guy cannot be a fool. The people
want to be deceived; yes, one does them the greatest pleasure, and they are extremely
grateful for it, if you lead them up the garden path and put the wool over their eyes.
Especially, one must flatter their mistakes, their mental and physical defects and
infirmities, and that's why I put myself on the latter and became a doctor of geology. Here,
just look at my toolkit.’ With these words he pulled out some technical-looking
instruments from his bag.
Jo Salter admired the technical instruments with due respect. ‘And how do you know how
to use them?’ he wanted to know.
‘Oh, that’s really simple’, Jeff Kaum responded. ‘It’s as easy as a little child’s play. I just
have to pretend using them properly. I have to say the right words, make the right
gestures, show the right face, and then all will be fine. You would never believe what all
treasures I have already found with my great skills and these wonderful technical
instruments; and I’m not even miffed about your faithlessness because I wouldn’t believe
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it myself either. The main thing is to not wait for the natural resources to be discovered
but to collect the fees and to abscond before any doubt arises. The free areas of the
galaxy are large and wide and I we can become rich men wandering around without ever
going to the even the same planet again. Life is for free, as wherever we go, people give
generously. We eat and drink and sleep well in nice beds and once we leave, our pockets
are filled.’ Pausing for a moment, Jeff Kaum held his hand out to Jo Salter. ’So, now, what
about being my assistant in that trade?’
‘Hmmm’, Salter harrumphed and scratched himself behind the ear. ‘The matter strikes me
as questionable. There is no honesty in it.’
‘Hey, come on, don’t make a fool out of yourself’, Kaum objected. ‘Faith does everything.
My customers believe in the predictive power of my expertise and my instruments and
they are happy knowing that they sit on large treasures. Even if they don’t dig for the
abundant bounty that nature provided for them, they feel great believing it’s there. How
is that fraud? And if they actually start digging, they will find something or the other. It’s
simply impossible to dig and not find anything. Any hole drilled into the ground will
deliver something. And if they don’t find what I told them was there, they find something
else and are equally glad about having found it. But usually I tell them a depth that is so
low that they for sure will take more time to sink a drill there I take to move in.’ Here, Jeff
Kaum paused again. He took a deep breath, and then another one, and then he again
addresses Jo Salter. ‘At least try it out. Now, as you ate and feel invigorated, we can give it
a try together.
‘OK, I will give it a try’, Salter consented. ‘And if only out of gratitude for your generosity.
But I have no talent for talking people into believing something.’
‘That’s not necessary at all’, Kaum tried to put Salter’s mind at rest. ‘I will do that myself.
That’s the talent that I have and that’s what I use to make a living. You just have to remain
reverently silent and assist me with some easy tasks. You just have to endure that I will
give you some instructions and that you have to follow them’, he explained. ‘So, let’s go.
Over there is a farmhouse that looks quite suitable for a start. You see, there is smoke
coming out of the chimney, so probably people are there.’
They stood up and started walking toward the blockhouse. As they strolled at their leisure,
without any hurry, it took them about half an hour to arrive. Behind the wooden
farmhouse, small but well-made of strong, solid tree trunks, was a well-maintained, nicely
cultivated vegetable garden and an orchard with several different fruit trees. There was a
barn, too, and between that barn and the residential building, three hoppers were parked.
Those three space-faring machines were an indication for other visitors being present, too,
because few of the small-scale settlers could afford three hoppers. They’d rather buy
agricultural machinery or mining equipment, if they had the funds.
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Through one of the small windows of the hut, the other visitors, those, who were already
paying guests on the farm, saw the self-bestowed doctor of geology and his new assistant
approach. ‘What a surprise’, one of the three said to the others, calmly but not susurrating,
just keeping on the tone of the previous conversation. He was experienced enough to
know that he could say about anything without dégagé bystanders listening to it if he just
continued on the same note. Any change of the voice, though, be it louder or more silent,
or higher or deeper, attracted attention. ‘If I’m not wrong, that’s Jeff Kaum, the
wandering musician with the accordion.’
‘He’s an acquaintance of yours?’ asked one of his companions. ‘You had any business with
him?’
‘In a way’, the first fellow confirmed. ‘It was in my very early days and I saw this guy doing
good business with his accordion; good for those days and my humble existence back then.
My business then was to take upon me the fruits of his business; during one dark night.’
‘Das he know it was you?’
‘That could well be’, the predominant guy responded. ‘Fortunately, I have a very different
hair style now and my face certainly aged since those days; and the bandages also make a
difference. Just don’t call me by my name; and don’t address me as colonel either, lest this
fellow puts a spoke in our wheel by making much noise about me.
In the meanwhile, Jo Salter and Jeff Kaum had reached the farmhouse and the lady of the
land now also noticed them. She greeted courteously and asked the two travellers if they
needed accommodation or food or both. Jeff Kaum answered with an introduction of
himself and his field of expertise. The landlady immediately smiled when the heard the
news. The farm could make good use of some additional water for irrigation and it would
be interesting anyway to know if there are any valuable natural resources below the
surface of the family’s land. She bid the two travellers to enter her snuggery, where the
other guests also sat. Then, she introduced Jeff Kaum and Jo Salter as highly educated
expert geologists; one with doctorate and the other one his assistant. ‘I believe the
presence of those two erudite gentlemen will enrich our conversations’, she proclaimed
happily.
‘Highly erudite doctorate expert in geology’, the man who did not want to be addresses as
Colonel grumbled. ‘Contumelious, impertinent, brazen-faces wretch’, he added, but with
such low a voice that the sound hardly touched the ears of his two companions. ‘Would
like to show him what I’m thinking of him!’
Jeff Kaum and Jo Salter entered the room and took seats where they had been offered to
sit by the landlady. The gangster who otherwise likes to hear other call him colonel was
pleased that the Jeff Kaum did apparently not recognise him. Not even a little shade had
scurried over that man’s face, no longer glance, not involuntary movement or lack of
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motion, nothing of all that what usually betrayed a person’s strong emotions toward
another individual. Of course, that man who did not want to be recognised was Lom
Claybrinck and of course he lied when he told who he was and what he did. It wasn’t
advisable to tell this former victim of his that he once took his hard-earned money and
that he going to take much more hard-earned money from others soon.
Local time at Baserri Station was already high noon. The farmers had started working
early in the morning; at sunrise they were already toiling on their land. They were now
hungry and came home to have their lunch. The landlady’s husband returned to the
blockhouse, one son, a daughter, and one hired labourer. They greeted all the guests and
then sat down to have their meal. While eating their lunch, nobody from the farmer
family spoke. But afterwards, the landlord addressed Jeff Kaum and asked him about his
specialisation in geology. The professed professional replied that he understood all kinds
of geology and was a master in any question related to the ground, on all planets,
anywhere in the whole universe. After all, they adhered to same principles of physics and
chemistry and therefore an expert who has understood those principles once knew them
for all and could apply them to any question.
‘Well’, the farmer said, only half convinced, and took a couple of deep breath. ‘Well, then
you are the man whom I am looking for. I just hope that you are none of these dodgers
who promise heaven and earth and claim to have doctorates like others have freckles but
have never studied anything and no nothing of their professed subject.’
‘Oh, no way! Do you think that I do look like such a scoundrel?’ Jeff Kaum strutted. ‘How
could I ever have passed my PhD and Master's exams, if I were not an educated man?’ he
asked rhetorically and then pointed to Jo Salter. ‘Here sits my assistant. Ask him and he
will tell you that I helped thousands and thousands of people, who owe me all and more
and a fortune on top of that.’
‘OK, I see’, the farmer said. ‘Well, we do have several questions here that have to do with
the land. You see, once we came here, we of course could just see how it looks like from
above, how the surface is. We don’t know what’s below. If we had irrigation we could
improve our yield and harvest more. So, if you can, then please find us some groundwater
nearby. There are creeks here and there is a river not too far; that much we took care of
when we settled here. But those proved to be somewhat un-reliable, flowing nicely most
of them time by drying out when we need them most.’
‘Oh, that’s no issue at all’, Kaum boasted. ‘You don’t need to worry. If there is any water
here, then I will find it!’ Then, he went asked Salter to take out his instruments from the
bag, took them, moved out of the house, roamed around on the nearby fields and made
important-looking faces, pretended to be very concentrated, looked at the ground and a
few times also at the sky, laid down and put his ear on the earth, and pointed around with
his instruments. The farmer family observed him from a distance, followed him with
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respect but always kept some meters between him and them in order not to disturb the
expert. In the meantime, the three gangsters had to concentrate not to burst into laughter
as they knew only too well that all this was nothing but a fake show.
Finally, once he felt that he had paraded his expertise sufficiently, Kaum returned to the
farmhouse and the family followed him in single file as if it was his house and they were
the guests. With big eyes they looked at him and waited for his expertise to be presented.
Kaum did not let them wait for long; just made small break to increase the suspense and
raise the effect of his diagnosis. Then, he gave the details of where the groundwater was,
how deep it was and how many litres per second could be pumped from a well. He added
there in the rocks below one of the soft hills there was silver in some depths and that the
river nearby should have some gold at the deepest points of its bed.
The farmer too this last information as proof of Kaum’s expertise as a geologist. ‘What you
said is right’, the agriculturalist acknowledged. ‘We already found a few small flakes there.
We thought that planting crops was more steady and reliable than relying on the luck of
finding gold, but your right, there is gold. I can definitively confirm that’, the farmer
corroborated Kaum’s story. ‘Therefore, I believe that you are really a great geologist and
that the other information that you provided is also correct. We will start drilling that well
soon, when we have some more free time at our proposal. We will also see for the silver
under that hill over there that you pointed us to’, he announced. ‘Now, if I may ask, how
much do we owe you for your service?’
‘Oh, you see, usually I work on commission or share in the proceeds of the people for
whom I discover natural resources’, Jeff Kaum replied. ‘But in your case, I cannot wait till
you drill the well, irrigate your land, plant and harvest your crops and sell the yield to earn
a monetary return. Therefore, as an exception to my usual rules of engagement I am
forced to suggest that you pay me in ready coin; or in some fungible assets that you may
have currently at your disposal.’
The farmer and Kaum talked a little while forth and back and then the agriculturalist
suggested paying five galactic standard silver coins. Those were widely used specie all
over the galaxy and among all races. They were made of an allow contain thirty grams of
silver as the main and most valuable component and were thirty eight millimetres in
diameter; quite handy. Jeff took the money and was glad and the agriculturalist also paid
and was glad, too. Both thought that they had made a good deal. Only one of them was
right.
When Jeff Kaum and Jo Salter had left the farmhouse again and were in safe distance
where they could talk without being heard, Salter asked in astonishment: ‘So, you are a
real geologist, after all?’
Kaum just smiled.
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‘But you said there was gold and the farmer confirmed it, saying that gold has been found
in that river’, Salter recalled the conversation.
‘Of course there was gold in that river’, Jeff gave back. ‘The river flows through plutonic
igneous rock. Any such river, if untouched ever since, will yield some little gold; some tiny
flakes will always be there, just above the bedrock. That’s really very basic, rudimentary
knowledge. I could not find a single flake on my own and I would not know how to go
about getting any gold out of such a river but I can very well repeat what others told me.
Every gold digger will tell you that every river anywhere on any planet anywhere in the
universe will hold a little gold if it just flew for long enough through a landscape of
plutonic rock. And plutonic roc is easy to recognise’, Kaum explained.
Jo Salter nodded and said nothing. In silence, the two men walked for some time. Then,
Jeff turned to his companion. ‘A good lunch and five silver coins for some comedy, wasn’t
that good deal?’ he asked. Without waiting for the answer, he continued: ‘It will go on like
this. It has always been going on like this and I am getting ever better at this. It’s a
veritable business, as you can see. And with an assistant, I can make even more money
because it all looks so much more serious’, Kaum predicted. ‘See, over there is another
farm. We just go there and repeat the whole show once more. We’ll get our dinner,
possibly a place to sleep for the night, and if we’re lucky, another five silver coins’, Jeff
tried to cheer Jo Salter up, who was walking along with him in silence. When his
companion still did not say anything after a couple of minutes more, Kaum again
addresses him with something motivational; or so he thought. ‘I hope you will understand
now that it is in your own best interest to come along with me!’
‘Your hope is deceiving you’, Jo Salter finally answered. ‘What you offer me is a lot of
money, truly a lot of money; but I would have to produce a lot more lies than I’d make
money. Please don’t take that amiss. I am an honest man and I want to remain honest. My
conscience forbids me to accept your offer!’ Salter’s expression and voice were so serious
that Kaum understood that even the most seductive persuasion was futile.
Therefore Jeff shook his head pityingly and said with true, heartfelt regret: ‘I have been
kind to you. Too bad that your conscience is so delicate! I really like you and I think that
we could work together as a great team. But I see that your decision stands firm and I will
respect that because I respect you as a person. I just feel that you would become a rich
man if your conscience wasn’t hindering you from succeeding.’
‘I am glad my conscience is as it is’, Salter replied. ‘I would like to repay you for the food
you gave me earlier but I can’t because I have no money.’
‘Oh, don’t worry about that. There will be more for me. You saw that I’m getting along
quite well’, Kaum rejected the proposal of guilt. ‘And as you still need money for your
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travel, you can likewise come along with me to the next farm and see if there is work for
you that suits you better.’
Salter agreed and they continued walking. Now, both of them were silent. Jeff was
ashamed because of the honesty of the clerk. Till they reached the next farm, they both
did not say anything. It was a long stroll and once they knocked at the wooden door of the
blockhouse, the time for dinner was slowly approaching.
Again, Kaum gave his presentation and introduced himself as a geologist with doctorate in
the subject. Salter asked for work and was told that a farm hand was needed. Within a
couple of days, he could earn enough to move on to the next inhabitable planet where he
hoped to find work again that would allow him to advance by one more stop.
How surprised where both Kaum and Salter, when some time after their arrival at the
second farm, three hoppers landed and the same three men existed whom they had seen
at the last place, too.
Lom Claybrinck and his two comrades came to the door of the blockhouse and knocked.
When the call was answered, they asked for food and stay for the night. Like many farms
in the vicinity of Baserri Station, this one here also offered food and lodging to travellers.
Usually, they came over from the landing platform by glider, though. But Kaum had
already told that he, as a geologist, preferred to walk to get a better impression of the
ground and the rocks and all. That sounded reasonable to the agriculturalist. Farmers did
the same; they also used to walk across their fields at time to check the situation their
land is in.
When all the members of that settler family came back home from their work, it was
already too late for the big geologist show that Jeff Kaum routinely staged to persuade
people of his wondrous credentials. It was at least time to talk. Extrovert as Kaum was, he
spoke a lot. The settlers listened a lot; and they listened with amazement. Lom Claybrinck
also heard with astonishment, what all stories this fellow could tell. Finally, even Salter
spoke out. He did not disclose all but he mentioned that ultimately, he wanted to reach
planet Philhen because he wanted to work there with the freight line company. He added
that he was in the possession of a letter of recommendation that should make it easy for
him to gain employment there.
Claybrinck pretended to be fairly much disinterested in these matters. He introduced
himself and his two companions as adventurers who were not working for others but
looking for their luck on their own; be that washing gold out of rivers or cutting valuable
trees of wood that was in high demand in the civilised areas of the galaxy. After some
time, when the talk had gone forth and back and again all around, Jo Salter showed the
letter of recommendation to Claybrinck. The experienced gangster had brought back the
talk to work and jobs and how difficult it was to find honest people and how hard it was
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for hones people to find good positions and so on; the whole works, lock, stock and barrel.
When he finally held the letter in his hands, took pains to appear just Claybrinck glancing
over it quickly. In fact, he was very much interested in it but he was also fiercely
determined not to let the farmers and the two travellers know about it.
The agriculturalists went to be dearly as they had to stand up before sunrise and start
their work on their lands. Their paying guests spend a long evening with gentle talks.
Claybrinck went to so far as to suggest that he also would know a few locations where
that he would like an expert geologist to inspect. He’d pay well for it, he said. Claybrinck
new from Jo Salter, that the clerk wanted to get to planet Philhen. The gangster assumed
that the two travellers somehow belonged together and thus offered both of them, to
take them along in the hoppers because he wanted to go in the same direction. As a job
was waiting for Jo Salter on Philhen and because Claybrinck told Jeff Kaum that he wanted
to pay for his geological services, both agreed to come along. Salter was very happy about
the course of events; he felt to be finally lucky again. Kaum sensed some strange
foreshadowing that something was fishy about the whole business but he still agreed,
lured by the promised pay.
When they stood up the next morning, the farmer family was already at work. They came
back to their blockhouse for breakfast, though. Thus, Jeff Kaum gained one more
opportunity to perform his show of make-believe geological fraudulent
misrepresentations; boasting with his doctorate and the display of his feigned skills. Again,
he told about some water that just had to be drilled for, some gold in the river, and some
copper under a bigger hill that could be seen nearby. This time, he earned only three silver
coins, though, because the agriculturalists had no more.
Then, the men led by Claybrinck invited Jo Salter and Jeff Kaum to enter their hoppers.
Once they and their little luggage ware all in, they started off. Soon, they reached one of
the hyperspace currents nearby. For about two hours, they travelled along this
hyperspace stream. Then, one of the hoppers, the one that had only its pilot and no
passenger, started moving strangely. Signals were given that this machine had problems.
They had to land on some inhabitable planet and check the vessel, the men told their
passengers. The hoppers dropped out of hyperspace and steered toward a planet that
looked all red and dusty from above.
Jeff Kaum felt ever more, that the fishy component of this whole series of events smelt
increasingly stronger. There was something very wrong with all this behaviour of those
three fellows. When they first met on planet Baserri, those three guys did not seem to be
very much interested in geology. Actually, they were not just indifferent but rather
depreciative. Then, later all had changed and they talked as smooth as silk; especially the
one fellow with the bandages. That guy was almost as talented with words as Kaum
himself.
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The planet came closer and it became clear that the first glance had not betrayed the eye.
The place was of mainly solid red rock and in between, there was red sand and red dust.
Now water and no vegetation were to be seen. The hoppers landed and the pilots asked
their two passengers to exit. They told Jeff Kaum and Jo Salter to get out of the machines
and stretch their legs while they would check and mend the one that had an issue. The
two travellers did as asked. It was out on the corner of his eye that Kaum realised that the
leading person of those three guys reached for a gun. ‘Run’ Jeff shouted at Jo and ran as
fast as he could. After a couple of meters, he felt a strong impact hitting his left upper arm.
The humerus bone got shattered but Kaum continued running. He was so full with
adrenalin that he did not feel the full force of pain yet and even the loss of blood did not
bring him down. Because the place was rocky all over, Jeff managed to disappear between
the boulders.
Jo Salter was already dead. The gangsters had given him two big-calibre shots. One had
smashed his head and the other one, fired just out of principle, tore a palm-size hole in his
chest. One of the gangsters wanted to run after Kaum but Claybrinck held him
back. ’Waste of time, was of ammunition, waste of energy’, the gangster boss said calmly
and with a bored attitude. ‘The days on this planet are long and extreme. The
temperature crosses the boiling point at noon and falls well below zero at night. Hardly
anybody ever comes here and the fellow will be get killed by the climate soon. He’s
wounded anyway and losing blood. That may despatch before the heat or cold.’ Happy
and with the letter of recommendation in his hand, that was to help poor Jo Salter find a
new job as clerk at planet Philhen, Lom Claybrinck returned to his hopper. This letter
would do him great service, the gangster boss was sure. He was smiling all the way till he
and his companions reached the mass of their waiting bandits at their robbers’ camp.
In the meanwhile, Jeff Kaum felt the pain come and his blood leave. His heart rate was
high and his skin felt cold and looked pale. After some time, when he was sure that the
gangsters had left with their hoppers for sure, Kaum returned to the place where his
buddy Jo Salter had been murdered. It was a ghastly sight. Practically nothing was left of
the man’s head and his mauled chest lay in a lake of blood.
Kaum was sitting on the ground, leaning against a boulder with his back, not far from
Salter’s mortal remains, when he realised a shadow flitting over the place. He looked up
and saw a hopper. Full of panic, he ran away to hide between the rocks. He crept into a
narrow recess between the boulders and peeked at the crime scene. Two hoppers came
down and landed. But only one was with a pilot. The other one must have been put on
tracking mode, so that it copied all its leader’s movements and actions. The blood loss had
slowed Kaum’s mind down and his vision had become somewhat unclear, too. He realised
that the fellow who exited the hopper was very tall for a human and had a strange figure.
Jeff did not recognise the creature’s alien physique, his clawed hands and feet, under the
heavily armoured space suit. Only when the Varanoide turned off his helmet, Kaum
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realised him as member of a foreign species. With the blood loss from his wounded upper
arm accumulating, Jeff turned weaker and soon phased out. He was unconscious when
the Varanoide found him. The alien carried the man to flat ground and took care of his
wound, stopped the bleeding.
When Jeff Kaum gained his conscience back, he slowly moved his head, looked around,
and saw the Varanoide sitting not far from him on the ground. ‘It is good that you are
away again’, the alien spoke in accent-free, very formal-sounding human lingua franca.
‘This planet has very long days and will heat up beyond boiling point at noon. We need to
get away from here.’
Kaum realised that the gaping wound on his arm was bandaged. ‘Thank you’, he said. ‘But
how come you’re here?’
‘It is a lonely planet’, the Varanoide confirmed. ‘I would not be here were it not for you. I
was travelling along the same hyperspace current that you and the other folks took. From
the disturbances I realised that there must be three hoppers in front of me. Without them
in my way, I could have travelled faster but because the stream is narrow and they went
in the same direction that I was going to, I remained behind them. Then, they suddenly
left hyperspace. Most hopper-pilots use that current to travel to and from planet Philhen.
When these three machines that were blocking my way were gone, I was glad and wanted
to speed up. But then it came to my mind that they might have a breakdown or some
other problem. Usually, nobody comes to this planet, unless he has a good reason, like in
a case of emergency. So, I decided to have a look if anyone needs help and I found that
you were in need. The rest you already know.’
‘That’s very friendly’, Jeff Kaum answered. ‘I would rely appreciated if you could take me
away from this planet before the sun boils me. I have eight galactic standard silver coins.
That much I can pay you’, Jeff offered.
‘I did not come here to earn money but to help a person in need’, the alien replied. ‘I was
on my way toward the Afon Bryn Stream. You were on the way to Philhen. Do you still
want to go there?’
‘I need to see a physician’, Kaum stated. ‘If you drop me at any small settlement where
they have one, then that should be fine for me.’
‘I don’t know about human physicians so well’, the Varanoide said. ‘But between here and
Philhen, there are no bigger settlements and I suppose there won’t be many physicians
either. I neither want to waste my time hunting for one nor do I want to go the other way.
So, you can join me for Philhen or you may try your luck here.’
‘Then, I will come with you’, Jeff accepted.
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‘Before we leave, I want to know from you what happed’, the alien declared. ‘The people
who did that are dangerous and they were on their way to Philhen, where we will get.
Thus, I must know about them.’
Jeff Kaum told the story of how they had met the other noon for the first time and then
again in the evening and how all developed and finally came to a bloody end on this red
planet.
‘I don’t think it was about you’, the Varanoide asserted after Kaum ended his recount. ‘It
probably wasn’t even about this poor Jo Salter. They killed him because he was in their
way but what they really wanted was this letter. As you told me the content, I presume
that these gangsters want to abuse it to worm their way into the confidence of this
Bernard Hauteroy. Probably, one of them will try to present himself as Jo Salter to this
gentleman’, the alien deduced. ‘What kind of person is that? What do you know about
him?’ the Varanoide asked.
‘Must be with the shipping company there, as far as I understood and remember’, Kaum
replied. ‘Salter was with the local office of the regional shipping business on planet Slaykin
and he was assigned to do the same job on Philhen. The two gentlemen, Darran Sutton
and Bernard Hauteroy, seem to be colleagues, so it may even be the same shipping line.’
‘Then, the gangsters who killed your companion have evil machinations in their mind for
this shipping line; and for the people who work there, too. Especially, we’d have to worry
about this Bernard Hauteroy. If the gangsters want him to trust them, that’s exactly what
he should not do for his own sake’, the Varanoide concluded. ‘It seems that I should make
a stop-over at Philhen, before I can travel on along the Afon Bryn.’
‘How long is it to get there’, Jeff Kaum wanted to know. ‘I’m not sure how long I will make
it with that wound’, he feared. ‘Maybe I should still see a doctor on the way’, he
suggested.
‘The bleeding is stopped’, the alien replied. ‘It’s fairly clean here and so you probably
didn’t get many pathogenic germs into the wound. Gangrene and traumatic fever should
not be a problem at least for some time. You should be able to make it to Philhen. There,
you probably can get quality treatment. On the way, even if a physician was found, he
probably rather is a butcher than a doctor; and that if you are lucky, because then he
knows how to cut well. Many human doctors in the free areas of the galaxy are
masquerading impostors, tricking desperate patients into confidence. They have never
seen any medical seminar from the inside and bestowed their doctorates on themselves
by themselves. You don’t want to fall into such a conman’s trap’, the Varanoide warned.
He could not know how well Jeff understood that.
They went to the hoppers that belonged to the Varanoide. The alien helped Kaum to enter.
It was a small machine, typical for the Varanoides. These creatures were big but they
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preferred small hoppers. They were very keen on quality, though, and their machines
were usually very well maintained. Usually, the Varanoides travelled with very little lugs
age only. It was the same in this case. The hopper Kaum found himself in was practically
empty.
‘Try to stay conscious all the time’, the alien advised Jeff. ‘If you faint or fall asleep, you
might vomit. That’s a typical reaction to blood loss in humans. You could suffocate from
your own emesis or burn your lungs by aspirating the stomach content. You better avoid
that!’
‘Oh, don’t you worry about my falling asleep’, Kaum gave back. ‘The pain in my arm is
strong enough to keep me awake!’
The Varanoide threw a last glance on the man who had been unconscious when he found
him and then they started off with their hoppers. He returned to the same hyperspace
stream that had brought the gangsters, his current accidental ward, and himself to this
red planet. There, the alien recognised the traces that the villain’s machines had left. They
were going at a steady but unhurried pace. The Varanoide later chose a different
hyperspace current because he did not want to encounter the gangsters again. He knew
their pace now and that was well enough. The stream he selected was resulting in a
somewhat longer passage but the Varanoide was determined to go all the way in a single
stretch. He expected the gangsters to feel save. They had not hurried before. They did not
hasten after the murder. Therefore, it was likely that they would camp somewhere for a
rest.
The Varanoide was familiar with the current they travelled along and he steered his
hopper with amazing precision. The other machine, the one where Jeff Kaum was in,
followed suit. They got along quite quickly. The current was wide enough for several
hoppers to pass through at the same time and it was a smooth, peaceful, calm stream;
nice for riding.
As they were traveling along at a very good speed, some other hopper came rushing on.
Hardly had it appeared in the rear view system, that it already was at dead level, overtook
and then rushed on, disappearing in the front.
A couple of hours later, Jeff Kaum and the Varanoide who had rescued him arrived at
planet Philhen. That whole world just had one single inhabited spot and that was where a
station had been build. Mid-scale mining was going on around that location. There were
several landing platforms; nothing more than flat concrete slabs. They are solid and even
enough for small and mid-size freighters to land. Rail tracks and conveyor belts these
landing platforms. Ore was delivered via these, to be filled into the spaceships carrying it
away. Around the landing platforms and between them and the mines, a makeshift
settlement was to be seen. The vicinity of Philhen Station was rare in timber but rich in
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stone. As the mining equipment was available, buildings were made out of stone and with
the help of that machinery. For the roof, then, wood was used. Most buildings had just
one storey. There was space enough and building them low was easiest. The buildings had
thick walls and then a mostly flat roof of wooden girders, usually covered with corrugated
steel sheets. Rain was very infrequent at the location of Philhen Station and when it
rained, precipitation was marginal. The steel sheets were more useful to keep some of the
dust out than to protect against rain, little of it was there was.
The settlement consisted of a few buildings that served the administration of the place.
Then, there were all those mostly humble houses that constituted the abodes of the
general workforce. Finally, there were those edifices, often even shabbier than the
housing, which belonged to a range of different businesses. Whoever came to this place
first and saw the situation might come to the conclusion that the more battered and
dowdily a place was the more grandiose its name. There were signboards holding the title
of grand hotel above a place that would elsewhere serve as dog house; if at all; and only
as long as animal rights activists were not to find out and object.
The biggest building in Philhen Station stood on the top of a hill. It was one of the very
few two-storey places and from there it was possible to watch over the whole settlement,
see the landing platforms and the look further on toward the mines.
It was exactly that one least shabby and least small building that the Varanoide who had
rescued Jeff Kaum piloted his hopper to. He landed his own machine in front of the
entrance and the other one followed suit, placing itself next to its technical twin. There
stood already another hopper. The alien exited from his machine and looked at the other
vehicle. It was a Yamaha Imperial Galaxy Venture T. ‘It’s a good machine, worth a great
pilot’, the Varanoide said silently. He spoke human lingua franca but at such a low voice
that it wasn’t clear to whom he said it. It was early morning and the settlement had not
yet come to life. Above the entrance of the double-storey stone building, a name-board
was attached. ‘Bernard Hauteroy’, it read. The Varanoide helped Jeff Kaum to exit the
hopper. Then, the alien walked toward the entrance door, climbed up the few stairs to the
little platform before and just wanted to knock at the solid door leaf of the portal, when it
was already opened.
‘Please come in, Karumir Marudy’, a fairly young man said with a low voice. He taint was
of bronze brown and his hair was dark and curly. He had sky blue eyes, though.
If the Varanoide was surprise to be addressed with his name by a stranger whom he had
never seen before, he did not show it. Whatever went in in the alien’s brain, it happened
very fast. Without any apparent hesitation, Karumir Marudy entered the building.
‘Please come in quickly’, the young, dark man invited Jeff Kaum to enter his house. The
man did as he was told and immediately after he was inside, the door was closes gain
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behind them. Only then, the young man turned on the light in his domicile. He bid his two
guests to follow him and brought them into a small room that looked like an office. In fact,
it was an office and it belonged to Bernard Hauteroy, who was the young man. Now safely
inside the solid building, the gentleman introduced himself to his guests. Then, he offered
them to take a set and pointed at to chairs there were conveniently located in front of a
desk. He himself went around the desk and sat on a similar chair there.
‘May I ask where you know me from’, Karumir Marudy wanted to know.
‘Oh, I don’t know you at all’, Bernard Hauteroy replied. ‘But I have another guest who
does know you well. He saw you coming and told me so. He asked me to call you in right
away and avoid attracting attention. So I spoke with a low voice. But of course your ears
are sharp enough to hear me whispering.’
The Varanoide did not ask who that person might be who had seen him coming and all. He
had certain assumption about who that may be and he was anyway sure to learn about
that person’s identity soon. So, there was no need inquiring for it now. Instead, the crime
that Karumir Marudy had seen and its background were more of his concern. ‘Do you a
gentleman whose name is Darren Sutton and who currently lives on planet Slaykin?’ the
Varanoide asked.
‘Oh, sure’, Hauteroy replied without hesitation. ‘He is one of my best friends.’
‘Do you also know one clerk working under him whose name is Jo Salter?’ the red-scaled
alien inquired further.
‘No’, Bernard responded. ‘Since Darran was posted to Slaykin I have not seen him. I did
not have the time to visit him there and he could not make it here either’, he explained.
‘It’s a couple of days travel one way and we’re both very busy. The workload is very
demanding but the over-time pay is also generous. Both of us haven’t taken any vacation
for more than two years.’
‘A man will come to you soon, pretending to be Jo Salter’, Karumir Marudy predicted. ‘He
will carry a letter of recommendation written by your friend Bernard Hauteroy,
introducing and commending the bearer to you. The man who will come to you with that
letter is not the real Jo Salter. The real Jo Salter is dead. He was murdered’, the Varanoide
warned.
‘I will have him arrested’, Hauteroy said coldly. ‘We will determine his guilt and the extent
and treat him accordingly. On planet Philhen, I am the chief executive; I am to enforce
rules and order here.’
‘You may do that in your position but it might not be wise because then we will not learn
what the plans of these criminals are’, Karumir Marudy dissented. ‘You may also bring
yourself into great danger because this villain is not acting alone. There are more of them
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and the probably have something bigger in mind than just killing a poor clerk. Let us
better find out what the plans of the gangsters are and then neutralise them more easily’,
the Varanoide suggested.
‘What may they be up to?’ Bernard wondered. ‘I am the number of on the hierarchy here
and if they want to do something big, they could plan to murder me, as I am the leader
here’, he calculated.
‘Maybe they want to kill you’, Karumir Marudy supported the speculation. ‘But probably
they will kill a lot more people. There has been an influx of gangster into this area recently
and such a large number of people certainly want to commit huge crimes, too. But just
killing you, they would not get rich. They must be after something dreadful.’
‘And I should hire the fellow who murdered my friend to find out from him, or give you
the chance to find out, what the gangsters want here, right?’ Hauteroy recapitulated.
‘That seems reasonable to me’, the Varanoide reassured the young, dark man.
‘Well’, Bernard said and sat back in his chair. ‘I don’t have to find out what they want
because I already know that there are about two hundred gangsters coming here or to
Arrano Buzutane Station, that’s the next from here up the Kalukuval Streams to rob the
cash box.’
Karumir Marudy was surprised. ‘How do you know that already?’ he expressed his
astonishment.
‘I guess it will be best to let you greet and meet the man who warned me just a couple of
hours before you came instead of just speaking about him’, Bernard Hauteroy reckoned.
‘He should be available again by now.’ With these words he stood up and walked to the
door leading to an adjacent room, knocked at it and when he got the permission to enter,
he opened it.
Out of that room came Ben Sommer. He was clearly glad to see Karumir Marudy, as a
friendly smile ran over his face. ‘My old friend’, the huge adventurer said. ‘I’m really glad
to see you again, though I wish it were under more enjoyable circumstances’, he greeted
the Varanoide. ‘How long didn’t we see?’
‘I saw you when you rushed past me on your way here’, the red-scaled alien retorted. ‘You
were in a great hurry’, I understood. ’I could not see your face, of course, but just very few
people in the whole galaxy can travel along hyperspace streams at my pace; and just a
couple manage to be faster. So, my guesswork wasn’t too hard. And then I saw a hopper
outside that fits well to you’, the Varanoide explained his reasoning and the lack of
surprise on his side.
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‘Yeah’, Sommer agreed. ‘I was in a bit of a hurry because I had to warn Mister Hauteroy
here because of gangster boss Claybrinck, his gang of more than two hundred villains, and
their sinister for this freight line’, Ben gave a summary of his motivation. ‘You can imagine
that I had a hell of a ride because I was on my way for more than a full day; and I was on
my way fast. That’s was not pleasure ride. I just needed a shower and some little food for
refreshment’, he justified his absence at the friend’s entrance into the house.
Then, Ben Sommer’s eyes fell on Jeff Kaum. ‘I see that this man is wounded’, the
adventurer said. ‘I could imagine that he needs more than just a little refreshment’, he
supposed. And it was true. Among all their joy at seeing again, all their urgency about the
mad machinations of conniving Claybrinck and his vicious villains, and the exhilarating
explanations to each other and for Bernard Hauteroy, they had forgotten Jeff Kaum’s arm.
That upper arm was still wounded and the humerus bone still had a hole. Without the
bandages, that arm would just dangle from the shoulder next to the body like a
‘I will have our company doctor look after him’, Hauteroy announced.
‘The gentleman is trustworthy?’, Ben enquired.
‘Absolutely’, Bernard confirmed. ‘He has been with our shipping line for longer than I have
been around at all in this universe of ours.’
‘Before that doctor arrives and sends our guest to the kingdom of sweet dreams with
some opioid analgesic, he should tell you also his part of the story’, Karumir Marudy
proposed. As everybody else who had a say agreed, Kaum gave an account of how he had
met the real Jo Salter, what this man had told him, how the conversation with Claybrinck
went in that evening and how all developed the next day till Jo was murdered and he was
shot.
After Jeff ended, Ben Sommer also reproduced the short summary of all the important
events since the first encounter with Lom Claybrinck and the men of his gang. Probably,
many of those original bandits were not with their boss anymore, because they now
rested in peace somewhere. Anyway, Claybrinck had a great talent of finding new gun
fodder. The world just didn’t run out of not-that-bright creatures who fell in for promises
of the fast way to richness. The bad thing about this fact was the harm they did to other
till they conked out.
At the end of those stories and after detailed descriptions of Claybrinck, they all agreed
that the one and the other must be the very same person.
‘This Lom Claybrinck, colonel or not, shall find Philhen Station a nut too hard to crack’,
Bernard Hauteroy announced. ‘Our arsenals bristle with weapons and we can arm our
workers to the teeth. We even have our own little security force here. I can send a courier
up one of the Kulukuval Stream to Arrano Buzutane Station, for them to be alarmed and
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support us, too. Then, altogether, we may have four or five thousand men under weapons
and can prepare these brutes a proper reception.’
‘Two hundred of these gangsters can still cause a massive bloodshed, even if they
ultimately lose’, Ben Sommer warned. ‘We should better know what exactly they are
planning and why they are coming here now. Then, we can baulk their plans, confound
their minds, stall their advance, thwart their success, hamstring their retreat, and finally
defeat them entirely.’
‘Sounds great but how do you want to do all that’, Karumir Marudy asked.
‘We can outsmart them if we know their plans but they don’t know ours. Best, they
Claybrinck and his villains should not know at all that we are here’, Ben explained. ‘It
there anything special going on these days here or will there be something particularly
interesting for a robber in the near future?’ he asked Hauteroy.
‘We have the usual cash box here, like at every station’, Bernard, responded with a display
of the financials such an outpost had. ‘Our cash box gets collected by the shipping line
every three to five weeks in irregular intervals. Then, there are wages to be paid to lots of
workers here; mainly miners. To prevent too much ready money being around in on day,
all the mines follow different pay patters practically every day, about the same number of
people here received about the same total amount of pay. We’re enlarging the ground
bases here and on Arrano Buzutane and at a few other sites, and for that purpose, some
special funds are due within the next few days. They are scheduled to come through here
and be distributed either from here or from Arrano Buzutane to the other locations. I
guess that this bandit leader Claybrinck somehow got wind of that and wants to rob the
regular full cash box content plus these special funds all together’, Bernard Hauteroy
depainted the current situation.
Karumir Marudy and Ben Sommer both agreed with the supposition. ‘That much money
makes it worth for Claybrinck to come and try his luck.’
‘He will find it to be bad luck’, Bernard snarled. ‘I will even send for Cheysiu Barracks to
support us. Cheysiu Barracks is a station of the Allied Jurisdictions of the Beautiful Worlds.
This mighty state has a military base there. They can easily send us hundred soldiers with
space fighters. The Allied Jurisdictions of the Beautiful Worlds do a lot of business with us.
They have enough self-interest in keeping these operations here running to come and
wipe out those gangsters for us’, Hauteroy, fumed.
‘Please send for them’, Ben Sommer encouraged the young man who was already
responsible for a whole planet and everybody on it. ‘But as far as I remember, it takes
about a week to get from here to Cheysiu, doesn’t it?
‘That’s right’, Bernard admitted.
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‘So, we’re back to trying our best with using our sharpest weapon, our good old brains’,
Sommer stated. Then, he looked at Hauteroy, saying: ‘Your brain isn’t that old yet. So it’s
not as outworn as mine, for example’, he encouraged the young administrator to think.
‘What I can think of is to alarm anyone and prepare is well for the fight’, Bernard
answered, straight-forward and frank.
‘Your courage is commendable, sir’, Sommer complimented the younger man. ‘But in such
struggles, cunningness is always better than violence. If I can render the enemy harmless
by astute stratagem, why should I sacrifice so many lives here?’
‘What kind of astute stratagem do you allure to?’ Bernard Hauteroy questioned. ‘I will
gladly do what you advise me; for you are an entirely different person than I am, as you
obviously have experience in those matters. If you so desire, you may elaborate on your
artifice of war and me and my people and all the resource of this place will be at your
command for the defence of our all lives and property.’
‘Of course I will gladly share all my plans to attain our victory with you, once they are
mature’, Ben Sommer answered friendly and trustful. ‘But for now, we first have to know
more about the gangsters plans and therefore we shall not let them know that me,
Karumir Marudy, whom some of them may know, too, or even Jeff Kaum are here or that
you know anything about the looming danger. Claybrinck would change his intentions
unpredictably and thus make matters more dangerous. Once that villain with the letter
comes to town, he should not even see our hoppers. Is there a place where we can park
them out of sight?’
‘I will take care of that immediately’, Hauteroy consented.
‘But keep them where can get easily when we need to be fast’, Sommer requested.
‘I have an Aduhika working with me here. He hardly speaks with anyone else; and vice
versa. I can have him get this done’, Bernard answered in the affirmative. Then, he called
the Aduhika who was to take care of the hoppers and gave him the appropriate
instructions. The medical doctor for the treatment of Jeff Kaum’s wound also came.
Hauteroy gave Ben Sommer and Karumir Marudy a place to sleep as both were tired from
their demanding travels.
When, after some time, Sommer had recovered enough sleep, he again went to talk to
Bernard Hauteroy. He asked for the whereabouts of Jeff Kaum. Then he looked after the
fellow and found him deep asleep. The medical doctor had treated his wound and given
him a good dose of opioid painkillers. Those had knocked the guy off completely. Then, he
went back to the Bernard’s office. ‘I don’t trust that fellow and thus I did not want to go
into much detail when he was still with us and listening to what we deliberated’, he told
Hauteroy. ‘I don’t want to have anything to do with such a cheater. Now, we are among
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ourselves and we know that we share each other’s interest and that we can rely on each
other.
‘So, now you want to tell me your plan’, the young administrator asked eagerly.
‘We can design a plan only when we find out about those of the gangsters and that is not
likely to be the case before their spy is to arrive here and has spoken to you’, Sommer
regretted.
In that moment, Karumir Marudy entered the administrator’s office, too. He offered a
different idea: ‘Every warrior can fight in two different ways. He can attack or he can
defend. If I don’t know how I can defend myself and if I can do that at all, I prefer to attack.
That’s faster, safer, and even more courageous. It is best to wipe the enemy out in a preemptive strike, when he is still building up his forces, positioning them, when he is busy
with his preparations and vulnerable to a counter attack’, the Varanoide stated with great
self-confidence.
‘So, you don’t even want to know the plans of the villains?’ Sommer gave back astonished.
‘I will learn about them anyway’, the red-scaled alien asserted. ‘But why should we let
ourselves be forces to act upon the enemy’s plan when we it is so easy to force them to
act upon ours?’ he asked rhetorically.
‘You already made up your mind and contrived a stratagem?’ Ben was amazed.
‘Yes’, Karumir Marudy answer briefly. ‘It imposed itself upon me when I heard what these
gangsters have done and what they are likely to want from here. As we know what they
want, why they come here, we can guide them as we please. We can bait them into an
entrapment and neutralise them there at will’, he adumbrated his scheme.
‘What kind of entrapment are you thinking of’, Sommer requested to learn.
‘One that’s easy to imagine’, the Varanoide replied. ‘The villains are coming here for the
cash box; or the combined cash boxes of freight fares and those funds for extending the
landing facilities here and on those other planets. The gangsters will come here, if the
cash is here. They will go anywhere else, if the money is there. They will go anywhere, if
the funds are there. So, we can put the cash as the bait into the trap and then snap it. The
villains will be entrapped and nobody living here in Philhen or Arrano Buzutane or in any
other settlement around here will suffer from any inconvenience.’
‘That’s great insight’, Ben applauded. ‘May I lay the blame on my lack of sleep that I did
not come up with the same idea already?’ he apologized humbly. ‘As you have already
done the strategizing, could you let us know more about the details?’ Sommer asked
further.
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‘We are close to the Kalukuval hyperspace streams. Anyone travelling from Philhen to
Arrano Buzutane or the way round usually uses one of those currents’, Karumir Marudy
stated the obvious. ‘Those streams fan out like the fingers of a hand or the leafs of a
flower or the feathers of a bird’s tail. Because there are several of such currents, the total
transport capacity is high. But each stream can just sustain that much load. Also, the
Kalukuval hyperspace streams are not of equal properties all along their whole length but
they are especially frail at certain points. They are furthermore subject to certain energy
tides and those waves influence their robustness further. If we lure the gangsters into one
and then make it break down, we entrap all those villains in normal space.’
‘But the villains will be out there in the open space and they can flee wherever they want.
How could they be considered trapped, then?’ the Bernard Hauteroy asked.
‘They will be in hoppers with oxygen and water for just a few days’, Ben Sommer
interjected on the Varanoide’s behalf. They can’t get very far in just a few days; they can’t
even reach the closest planet, let alone the next hyperspace stream, if we shake them out
at the right point.’
‘But here on the ground they will be on my people’s home turf. We know this ground best
and we have time and means to prepare ourselves. With all the equipment, we can create
a fortress here within just a few days. The gangsters are coming with handguns, aren’t
they? Rifles and pistols won’t harm our boulder barricades’, Hauteroy propounded.
‘But we may still face casualties on our side’, Somme disagreed. ‘But if we can make them
use the very one of the Kulukuval Streams that we want them to use, we can lure them to
a location where they have to surrender without any chance to fight us and hurt our
people.’
‘That’s the big question’, the young administrator replied. ‘They may not so easy to be
baited. After all, they are cunning villains, too, operating with the same tricks as their
chosen profession.’
‘We will lure them with all the cash’, Karumir Marudy explained again.
‘So, I should have all the cash being transported at a certain time through a certain one of
the Kulukuval Streams and let anyone know about it?’ Hauteroy asked in disbelieve.
That was a question that the others would not have expected from the educated
administrator. Karumir Marudy showed his disappointment with a gesture of his hand but
Ben Sommer chose to elucidate the young man instead of insulting or scolding him.
Anyone had the right to be slow at mind at some time. Being bright all around the clock
on every day of the year throughout one’s life wasn’t a talent given to many. ‘Who would
ever expect you to do that?’ he said. ‘The gangsters just have to be convinced that the
money will travel along there. Once this fake fellow comes and pretends to be Jo Salter,
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you hire him. Then you pretend as if you trusted him a lot. You will tell him when and
where the cash will go. He’s a spy and will report whatever information he obtains to his
boss and comrades. They will come where we want them to come, when we want them to
come. They will voluntarily comply with our plans.’
‘That does not sound bad but I do not think it will be that easy as you believe’, the
administrator objected.
‘Well, what difficulties could there be?’ Ben Sommer asked. ‘Don’t you have spaceships at
your disposal for that purpose?’
‘The said number of spaceships should be available; one for the bait, and one each for
each end of the respective hyperspace stream and I would gladly take all the responsibility
upon me if I could trust in the success of the venture’, Bernard Hauteroy demurred. ‘But
some important questions remain. Who, for example, is supposed to pilot the spaceship
that serves as bait? The gangsters could turn space pirates and just shoot anybody on
board.’
‘That would be a valid objection if there had ever been any hint that Claybrinck as in
possession of a spaceship’, Sommer judged. ‘But the biggest thing that anyone from those
gangsters, beginning with their supreme boss down to the least minion, ever had, was a
stolen life boat, purloined from the spaceship Nellie Fortier. They don’t even have
hoppers with external weapons. They are basically surface-bound bandits. They get from
one place to another by hopper but they depend on ground-force operations. But then, I
understand the issue that you want to avoid. Commanding other people into danger is no
pleasure for any honourable man. As I have my own differences with Claybrinck which I
want to end once and for all, I will volunteer to steer the spaceship that will serve as bait.
The details we can arrange later. The main thing is to be prepared soon. We should not
take too long because the gangster’s spy will most likely be here soon and the main group
will arrived at Arrano Buzutane, because that’s where they wanted to go first. They will
want to take action soon and we should complete our arrangements before they get
nervous. We need to determine the precise location of the trap. We best do that
immediately. Then, we will know what to tell the spy.’ Ben Sommer was silent for a
moment, thinking about some smaller issue that had come to his mind. ‘Do you have any
inconspicuous means of hyperspace conveyance? I don’t want to use my hopper because
the gangsters could recognise it’, he said toward the young administrator.
‘Yes, of course!’
‘Then, let’s best go together, you and me, because you know the vicinity best’, Sommer
demanded swift action. ‘Karumir Marudy better remains here. He better shouldn’t be
seen as his presence could serve as a warning signal to the gangsters’, Ben suggested. ‘Do
you have work clothing for me; in my size?’ he asked Hauteroy.
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The young administrator nodded. But it was clearly visible that he felt ever worse the
more details were discussed. ‘For you, this may be just like swimming is for the fish’, he
chipped in with his remark, full of sorrow. Just recently he had favoured a veritable
ground battle and now such much more harmless preparations were already demanding.
‘To me, it does not seem to be that easy.’
‘Then let’s go through it point by point and take care of any item that hasn’t been taken
care of yet’, Sommer said with equanimous friendliness. ‘You see, that bandit who will
come and present you the letter written by your friend Darren Sutton is a scout. He wants
to get hired as a clerk to spy you out. Whatever you will tell him, or show him on written
documents, he will pass as the true information that he had obtained. We can guide him
as we please. There is no problem at all’, Ben substantiated his claim that all was going
fine.
‘But what if the gangsters chose otherwise and prefer to attack?’ Hauteroy asked. ‘You tell
me to leave Philhen Station unprepared in order not to warn the villains. But if they come
right away instead of sending the spy first, how should we cope, without precautions
taken?’
‘Even gangsters want to live’, Sommer claimed. ‘They want to loot their bounty as easy as
possible’, he stated. ‘Just see if from their side. They need to know first where the cash
boxes are. Searching a place like this here could take too long. Waging a siege with two
hundred men against several thousand miners with lots of heavy equipment isn’t an
enticing imagination, is it? So, they will try to be cunning. As we know that, we just need
to be more cunning’, he explained.
‘I already sent for the military to Cheysiu Barracks’, the young administrator mentioned.
‘If the commander there sends me some detachment in time, I shall not have any problem
at all with these villains.
‘Good that you did’, Ben complimented him. ‘How good are the folks from your local
security service here?’ he asked. ‘Can they monitor this gangster spy and control his
communications and network access?’ he wanted to know.
‘Sure’, the administrator replied. ‘We often have IT-security issues. Workers try to fake
their attendance records to get more overtime pay, hide when they were absent without
leave, increase their rations, and all other kinds of funny attempts. Some of them are
really sophisticated. And then, of course, we have the hard-core issues of sabotage from
competitors, business espionage and so on.’
‘What about the spaceship movements of your freight line?’ Sommer questioned.
‘We keep some stuff on paper’, the administrator responded. ‘Paper does not crash, it
can’t be hacked, it’s more difficult to change, you find it easily, and it can be kept safe by
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simple physical means. We send physical copies with every freighter ship stopping here.
So we have a backup and can compare and reproduce. The use of paper also is what
makes us need a clerk.’
‘Then your security team just needs to take care that our fake spy clerk does not find any
conflicting information’, Ben proposed. ‘They should also have an eye on him to prevent
that guy from going around and talking to people. He should be held under control so that
he only talks to you; that avoids contradictions. And then, the IT-security needs to watch
out for what that spy will send out. If we know that, closing the trap will be easy.’
After this discussion, Ben Sommer and Bernard Hauteroy went to inspect the most
suitable hyperspace current of the Kulukuval Stream. Later that day, and still during the
absence of the young administrator, two fellows arrived at the office building. One of
them introduced himself as Jo Salter and showed to letter of recommendation written by
Darren Sutton as proof. The trustworthy Aduhika who ran the office in the absence of his
superior was instructed to keep those two chaps waiting; and that he did. He was also
instructed to avoid talking to them; and that he did, too. In fact, it wasn’t difficult for him
as he neither spoke nor understood much human lingua franca; and nobody him because
of his heavy accent, when he tried to say something. Hauteroy had learned enough of the
Aduhika tongue to communicate sufficiently well with his alien subordinate. Yet, despite
his linguistic deficiency, the Aduhika did a good job at the office because he could
recognise optical patterns extremely well. He did not read them as in understanding the
text. This Aduhika compared the patterns, not the content. If shown, for example, the
term ‘ARRIVAL TIME’ he would find a sheet of paper soon where ARRIVAL TIME was
printed on. But it the print read ‘arrival time’ instead, he could not find it. He would not
have an idea how to pronounce the word or what it meant.
In the meantime, Karumir Marudy was given a room to rest in the administrator’s building.
Ben Sommer had told him that some common friends were not far. The loggers who were
travelling to Tasik Perak did not join the coursing-like rush of Ben to Philhen; and neither
did the other friends. They were instead camping on a planet nearby. The hyperspace
currents leading there were too narrow for spaceships; only hoppers could pass.
Therefore, that world had escaped mining. There was no use in producing anything there
if it could not be transported away. Anyway, now, this place served as the temporary
abode of Seb Melch, whom Karumir Marudy knew for long. But because the Varanoide
should not be seen on Philhen, he could not leave right now. His read colour and size
made him quite conspicuous. Thus, the alien had to stay inside till the tight offered better
chances of smuggling him out and away.
When Bernard Hauteroy and Ben Sommer came back from their inspection tour, on which
they had confirmed the existence of a hyperspace current that was suitable for their
purpose, they received a signal that the expected visitor was already waiting and that he
had brought some comrade along with him. The trustworthy Aduhika hat kept the
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gangster who pretended to be Jo Salter and the other guy safely in one room of the house,
making sure there was no risk of them accidentally bumping into Karumir Marudy. The
Olive also arranged Ben Sommer to be brought into the house with minimal risk of
suspicion. Nobody should have any reason to think that there was something irregular
going on, that some form or the other of suspicion was warranted. Sommer came in via
the back door and as he still wore the work clothing, that looked as inconspicuous as
could be. He might just be somebody who had to mend something there or who has to do
some paperwork after his shift.
The gangsters were still being kept waiting in one room which was brightly lit. The tiny
camera of the theft protection system allowed the inside of that chamber to be observed
well. Bernard Hauteroy showed his guests the video sequences that diverse security
cameras had captured of those two gangsters. Jeff Kaum identified them without any
doubt. ‘These were the ones who murdered Jo Sutton’, he said firmly. Karumir Marudy
also looked at the pictures to engrave those villains’ visual representation on his mind.
Should they somehow escape their fate and come across his way, he’d recognize them
immediately and treat them as they deserved.
Then, Bernard Hauteroy was to see those two gangsters. Sommer and the Varanoide
remained in the office, where they could see the video surveillance and follow the
conversation. Jeff Kaum was sent to continue sleeping. Because of the opioid painkillers,
he was anyway very languorous. Only Ben’s unrelenting efforts to wake him up and his
hate toward the murderers of his short-time travel-mate Salter woke him up and kept him
from falling back into sleep again. But now, after being told that all will go its pre-destined
way and the evil-doers will ultimately meet their fate, he was happy to close his eyes
again. Hardly was he on his bed again, when he was already deep in slumber.
In their secret observation Ben Sommer and Karumir Marudy saw and heard two men
who tried their utmost to be courteous. One of them handed a letter over to Bernard
Hauteroy who had been advised to play naïve and unknowing. That wasn’t easy for the
administrator but he played his role well. Sommer hat told him to speak as least as
possible, because then he had no chance to say anything wrong. He should also try to
make a neutral face; like a poker-face. That was much easier than to fake any other
emotion. Putting back the letter again, Bernard addresses the two men: ‘You were
employed with my friend Darren Sutton. How is he doing?’
‘Sorry Sir, only I was employed with Mister Sutton’, the one villain who posed as Salter
objected. ‘I just met this gentleman on the way. He told me that he was looking for work
and I suggested coming along with me. His name is Rotter, by the way.’
The other man also gave a short introduction of himself and asked if he could have a job;
any kind of job. Hauteroy promised him so, because he had nothing to lose by giving
cheap words. He’d discuss later with Sommer what to do with that guy. Then Bernard
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turned his attention back to the fake Salter. He decided to give that imposter a hard time
and asked a few questions about Sutton’s situation. The pretender told a story that had
nothing to do with the truth and that serves as confirmation to Bernard that this guy had
never in his life seen Darren at all. The imposter also told a lugubrious story about his own
fate that harmonized with the content of the letter but had nothing not much to do with
the truth.
Bearing in mind the role that he had to play, Bernard Hauteroy gave the predetermined
answer. ‘This is so sad. It excites my sympathy, especially since I see from these lines that
you have owned the goodwill and trust of my friend Darren Sutton. Therefore, this
request for an appointment for you shall not be in vain. How could I deny such a small
favour to such a great friend if he sends me a man who he describes in such positive
words? We all know how important trust and loyalty are and how rare it is to find a
person who is worthy of both. Thus, I should be so glad that Sutton sent me a man whom
he trusted and who was loyal. There are so many liars and cheaters around these days and
we all have to watch out not to fall prey to their machinations an end up in their traps,
don’t you think?’ Bernard Hauteroy just couldn’t help saying this.
The gangsters nodded obligingly. ‘All these unscrupulous liars and conscienceless cheaters
shall go to hell; to the deepest bottom and into the hottest kettle!’ the gangsters
condemned themselves.
‘Oh, yes, may their fate be what they deserve’, Bernard added to the curses. ‘But again, I
shall be so glad that honourable men be sent to me. Thus, your asking shall be granted.
Even though I do already have a clear, I have long been in need of a trustworthy and loyal
man to whom I can consign very confidential, even secret matters. Do you think that you
are such a good person?’
‘Of course’, the gangster replied. ‘Please try working with me. I am fully convinced that
you will be fully satisfied with my performance.’
‘OK, then we will try that’, Hauteroy sealed the deal. ‘We can’ talk about money yet
because I have no experience with your work. In a few days, I will know more. Please rest
assured that you will receive whatever you are due. According to your deeds, you will be
remunerated. For good work, I am very much willing to pay well.’
Then, Bernard told the two fellows when their shift would start the other day and that
they could stay in this house as there was a little room for sudden guests like these. They
were also told to have their meals here in this building. They had to obey the security
protocols, comply with the rules of the house and be indoors by ten o’clock in the evening
because the doors were all to be locked by then for security reasons. They were strongly
advised not to hang around with the rag-tag rabble frequenting the streets in the evening
hours to get drunk and incite trouble with others for no rhyme or reason. The two
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gangsters declared that they did not belong to the riffraff crowd and had no intentions to
join those worthless creatures anyway. They solemnly swore that they never had anything
to do with any bad people and gravely pledged to hold it like this for ever into the future.
After that conversation, the two gangsters were assigned their room. Then, Bernard
Hauteroy and Ben Sommer discussed the results. If they wanted to have the security
service folks intercept messages going from the fake Salter to his accomplice, the guy who
gave his name as Rotter, they needed to separate them. Two gangsters had come so that
one would pretend to be Jo Salter and the other one was to be the courier for any
messages. That’s what Sommer and Hauteroy held for most likely after their analysis of
the situation. Therefore, it was required to create a distance between those two villains to
force them to communicate. If they were together all the time, they would not have to
communicate because they’d see and hear the same things. If they were apart but could
meet occasionally, they’d also rather talk then transfer messages. Those conversations
were more difficult to intercept and had therefore to be prevented.
Thus, on the morning of the other day, even before breakfast, one foreman from the mine
that was furthest away came to the administrator’s house to ask for a worker to fill a
redundancy. Of course, Bernard Hauteroy had arranged for this. The gangster who called
himself Rotter was given time to eat and then was asked to go along with that mine’s
foreman. As Rotter had earlier asked for work himself, he could not reject it now. He also
needed a reason to be around on Philhen. After all, the villain still believed himself to be
under-cover. So, he was acting as a good agent who was trying to create a legend for him.
During the next few days, Bernard Hauteroy took care that the fake Jo Salter saw several
documents pertaining to the expected huge cash delivery. The two gangsters, the
pretender who had presented the letter of recommendation and the other guy who now
worked in the mine that was furthest away from the administration building, were kept
out of each other’s sight, too. Therefore, they had to communicate via imperceptible ways.
The local security fellows were good enough to check all of these spies’ communication
and reported the results to their superior Hauteroy, who share them with Ben Sommer.
The feigned Jo Salter had seen and passed on information indication when and where the
spaceship with the cash was to be and to travel. What he passed on to his courier, who
again transferred the intelligence to the main body of the gangsters, was such: A small
freight line transporter spaceship was to carry the cash together with certain other goods.
The craft was scheduled to reach Philhen first, pick up the regular cash box with the
revenue from the regular freight and passenger operations, then move along a certain
current of the Kulukuval Streams, land for a quick stop-over on planet Kunkutar Rami
Tarko, a place with a big name and little importance, and then move on to Arrano
Buzutane Station on the planet with the same name. There, the cash was to be distributed
and disperse with smaller vessels to the specific final destinations.
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The special feature of planet Kunkutar Rami Tarko that made it so convenient for the
stratagem that Karumir Marudy had thought of and that Ben Sommer and Bernard
Hauteroy had refine rested in the fact that it was accessible by only one single hyperspace
current. This current was one of the fingers of what was widely known as the Kalukuval
Streams. The hyperspace current leading past planet Kunkutar Rami Tarko was just big
enough for a small spaceship but frail and susceptible to disturbances. Stationing to bigger
crafts at each end and adjust their hyperspace drives to create such disturbances allowed
to collapse the current at will and to keep it down for as long as it should take to
neutralise the gangsters.
It was the central part of the stratagem to lure the gangsters to this planet Kunkutar Rami
Tarko. This was supported by presenting it as the ideal place for an assault out of an
ambuscade by the villains. Both, Philhen and Arrano Buzutane, were bigger, more
important places with higher populations, some security forces, and lots of rough-andtough inhabitants who could well be expected to take to the arms and resist and raid by
the bandits. On planet Kunkutar Rami Tarko there was practically nothing; and almost
nobody lived there. As justification for the stop-over there a delivery of geological
equipment was given. Some of the documents that the feigned Jo Salter had to handle
described the possibility of an old iridium meteorite having struck the planet long ago.
Now, a geological team was to conduct a survey and try to find the thing. The prospect of
a big iridium meteorite’s core resting a couple of kilometres under the surface of that
lonely planet served as a good rationale for a stop-over there. After all, the gangsters had
to be lured into a trap; if that trap was too obvious, they might not fall in. Thus,
everything had to be made convincing and reasonable; comprehensible rationales for all
arrangements had to be provided.
All the information that was destined for Claybrinck and his bandits found its way to them.
They had camped on a planet nearby. It was a nice place and they wondered why nobody
had settled there yet. Some of the villains even thought of staying. But then, their greed
and imperative will to get rich quick by illicit means won over their desire to have a calm,
peaceful, and restive live on their own little farm. Buying things with robbed silver was so
much more convenient than creating them with their own hands, they recollected.
Kunkutar Rami Tarko was a great location for an entrapment because, in addition to
having just one access way that was furthermore easily interruptible, it was very dry, had
not a single drop of water on its surface, and held no breathable atmosphere. The
gangsters were forces to wear space suits there. Being locked in at Kunkutar Rami Tarko
with only space suits and hoppers for sustenance was to force the villains to surrender
within just a few days at max, depending on their reserves of oxygen and water. Space
suits and hoppers usually did not hold much of these. Therefore, the first bandits were
expected to give up already after a couple of hours. To arrest all those villains who were
to surrender, a detachment of soldiers with space fighters was scheduled to hide at
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Kunkutar Rami Tarko. Two other detachments with space fighters were to secure Philhen
and Arrano Buzutane.
The fake Jo Salter dutifully passed on the likewise fake information via his courier to the
gangsters and those confirmed the receipt and replied that they would act upon it. All was
to work well and the entrapment elaborately excogitated was on due course to effect the
neutralisation of the dreadful Claybrinck gang of bandits. All was so well thought-through.
The timing was perfect on the side of the freight line and the military. What the beautiful
stratagem developed by Karumir Marudy, Ben Sommer, and Bernard Hauteroy was the
plain old phenomenon of ordinary incompetence; in this case on the side of the gangsters.
Because the villains’ timing was not perfect, the scheme went on differently. The gangster
somehow got the timing jumbled up. Once they realised that they were already very late
and had to hurry like mad to still catch the little freight line spaceship at its stop-over on
planet Kunkutar Rami Tarko, they did the needful and did hurry like mad.
Hurrying like mad with a large number of hoppers, more than two hundred in this case,
along a frail hyperspace current was an effective way of making it fail. When the bandits
had realised that they were damn late everybody among them rushed head over heels
toward their hoppers and then on to hyperspace and into that one frail stream, it was of
all things Claybrinck who belonged to those gangsters who were least fast. With his head
still hurting and his hands yet not fully healed either, rushing head over heels was neither
his most desired preference nor was he very good at it. Actually, on his way to his hopper
he stumbled and fell again, hurting his yet not fully healed hands encore. Somebody even
stepped on his fingers. For a moment, Lom Claybrinck was so frustrated that he thought
about giving up to be a villain. Then, his rage took over again, pumped adrenaline into his
body and back he was, the old boss. He considered shooting the fellow who had stepped
on his fingers, but could not remember who that was; he had not seen him so well.
Anyway, he jumped into his hopper and rushed after the others, who had already taken
off. Just a few of his very loyal old comrades remained close to him, everybody else just
got on as fast as possible.
And then, if course, what had to happen finally happened. If something can go wrong, it
will go wrong. The rule stuck to itself and the hyperspace current broke down. It collapsed
just before Claybrinck. He an about twenty of his close comrades were left back, remained
in normal space while the other villains rushed on, to collect what they expected to be the
biggest bounty in their lives. They came to planet Kunkutar Rami Tarko, then at first found
no freighter line spaceship and thus no treasure either, and soon after discovered that
their escape route was not accessible anymore. The only hyperspace current in the vicinity
had collapsed. The bandits could not get back. Just a little later, they found themselves
confronted with a detachment of military space fighters. The gangsters had no chance and
gave up. There was no hiding and there was no possibility of fleeing. The villains were
trapped and they understood it. They preferred to subject themselves to the hopeful
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mercy of an ordinary judicial system than to suffocate in their space suits or hoppers
within hours to days. Lom Claybrinck, though, who at first got terribly mad because the
hyperspace current had collapsed just before him and his most loyal comrades, was lucky
again. He had not won anything but he had not lost much, except for almost two hundred
minions who were anyway just needed for this one raid. Had the assault worked out well,
he would have had to give them their share of the loot. As the raid did not work out well,
there was no bounty, therefore he did not have to share the loot, and that was good for
him, too. After all, he did not like to part with anything.
Once had had realised what had happened and that his other men had been captured in a
trap created for them, Claybrinck retreated with his remaining comrades to an inhabitable
planet about a day's journey away. Before, he and his twenty other gangsters had to sit
out a very uncomfortable time in normal space. It took a while till the hyperspace current
re-established itself. The place where Claybrinck had been thrown back into normal space
was before the location where the freighter line spaceship was to block the stream. Yet, it
healed only slowly, despite not suffering from much further disturbance from the bigger
vessel. Anyway, at some point of time, hyperspace was accessible again and Claybrinck
could get away. It was far too late for reaching planet Kunkutar Rami Tarko. Whatever had
to happen there, did already happen. Lom’s plan had been to capture the spaceship with
the treasure when it landed on that lonely world. At first, he assumed that the other
bandits had followed that plan and the disappeared. But soon, he learned that they had
all been arrested.
Now, Claybrinck was sitting on this one inhabitable planet, about a day's journey away
and contemplating his fate. As he had rationally analysed, there was no profit; but there
wasn’t any loss either, with the hardly notable exception of his gun fodder. Given the low
quality of those villains, Lom chose not to collect any more such useless creatures. Like
always, Claybrinck found great relieve in blaming others. That was his way of not feeling
so bad. Having to blame himself for all that went wrong during the past few weeks would
really be too much for him to bear, he understood. And then, when looking closely at each
and every incident, wasn’t it evident that always others were at fault? Claybrinck knew
that blaming others too vocal all the time did not go down too well with his men, so he let
it be. But by himself, he was absolutely certain that he did the right wrong things while
the others, those fools, did the wrong wrong things. His wright wrong actions were
destined for leading to richness while their wrong wrong actions were only leading the
others to one disaster after the other. That, in itself, would be worth decorating them
with the Darwin Award, were it not to his own detriment each time, too. Therefore, Lom
Claybrinck was glad that he could be mad about his minions’ foolishness. Their lack of
intelligence and discipline delivered him for all responsibility for any failure. Oh, how good
it was to be great, he through.
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When the many gangsters were captured at Kunkutar Rami Tarko, Ben Sommer and all
the others involved in that beautiful stratagem were at first glad how well it had worked
out. But then, when it became apparent that of all villains that terrible Lom Claybrinck
whom everybody wanted for conducting revenge and setting the score even, was missing,
joy made way for disappointment. True, many bad bandits had been arrested, but the
main culprit had escaped. Rumours made their way round of how that bandit boss could
have escaped. Great intelligence, superior ingenuity, an unbeatable network of spies, the
warning by traitor, and several more such theories and ideas were discussed; and
probably even more remained unspoken. At least at first nobody thought of the simple
truth that plain old incompetency had saved Lom Claybrinck from meeting his deserved
fate. After interrogating the captured gangsters and recreating the course of event, that
ordinary, underlying truth became apparent. Karumir Marudy, Achesh Akanem, Seb
Melch, and Ben Sommer thought of trying to follow Claybrinck’s traces through
hyperspace but then considered it not worth the while; they knew where the gangster
boss wanted to go ultimately: to planet Tasik Perak. Thus, it was best to travel there
directly.
After the discussion, everybody started to feel that the last meal dated back already too
long. As master of the place, Bernard Hauteroy invited everyone to eat at his expenditure;
or rather at the cost of the shipping line. Because the united friends of Ben Sommer had
prevented the robbery of the cash box and the looting of at least one station the company
operated, a nice reward was due to everybody who had helped the right side.
When the guests were just sitting at the dining tables arranged for the in the canteen hall
of the freight line company, some man came to the venue and requested to see the
administrator. Hauteroy was slightly peeved but the man insisted on being allowed in.
Because the man was one of the foremen working at this site, Bernard permitted it. Then,
the man, whose name was Walterson, quickly explained what he wanted in here, with all
those volunteer helpers who had done the shipping line such a great service. The news
about the arrest of those many gangsters had spread wide and far. The name Lom
Claybrinck was announced as belonging to the boss of the bandits. Walterson had heard
that name before. Actually, he remembered having seen the man before. When he told
Hauteroy that Claybrinck had once tried to kill him, Bernard was all ears. He first asked
the man to tell his story. But soon after, when Walterson had just spoken a few phrases,
the administrator changed his mind: ‘You best later speak to everybody. Then, you don’t
have to tell everything twice’.
After the meal, Hauteroy asked for the attention of all the persons present. Once
everybody else was silent and was silent, he introduced Walterson as one more person
who had made an experience with Lom Claybrinck. He expressed the hope that this
information could contribute to finally catch the arch-villain; and to predict him better in
the meantime. Immediately, Walterson enjoyed the full attention of everybody in the hall.
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‘It was about two years ago that I met this terrible Claybrinck and I wish that I have never
ever come even within hundred light years of that habitual felon’, Walterson started with
his narration. ‘Together with a friend, I was following the traces of an old legend that we
had heard from some people who lived long among the Varanoides’, he continued. ‘t is
the legend of the treasure on planet Tasik Perak’, he said and immediately a lightning
struck Ben Sommer. Being very composed yet also very curios, and among friends,
Sommer did not hire his interest entirely. ‘My friend’s name was Burek, by the way. He
was originally from planet Kudal but had come to the free areas of the galaxy to try his
luck as an adventurer.’ This time, it was Duref and Seb Melch, who could not hide their
increased attention. The youngster wanted to ask something but the older man by his side
indicated him that it was better to wait.
‘We had found the planet Tasik Perak and were exploring it’, Walterson continued with
the account that he wanted to share. ‘As you may know from the legends, there is a big,
beautiful lake on this world which is called Karep Kisat. The legends have it that the
treasure is somewhere around there. Originally, we were a larger group but on the way
we had encountered some Varanoides of the Kudesh tribe and a few of our people found
disagree with some of them on something. Whatever, this minor dissension led to major
loss of blood. I and Burek had kept out of that controversy and consequential remained
alive. So, there we were, all the two of us with two hoppers on planet Tasik Perak. We had
even found the lake which is called Karep Kisat in the legends. There are other lakes, too,
so that was no mean feat, finding it. We were there but we did not see any treasure; we
did not see any of those remains either, that some of the legends talk about. The place is
entirely untouched by anybody; almost. There was a very old Varanoide who lived there
in a single house and was often visited by his grandson; already a grown-up fellow, too,
and this grandson’s own son.’ This time, the Varanoides in the room were those who
started listening with heightened attention. It was rare that those aliens showed any
emotional reaction recognizable to humans. This was one of these rare events. None of
the attending Varanoides asked any questions, though. They just listened like spellbound.
‘Burek and I had roamed around anywhere on that planet Tasik Perak with our hoppers till
we finally had found that lake, Karep Kisat. Unfortunately, both our hoppers broke down
then’, Walterson continued to tell. ‘Well, actually, one broke down first and we thought
that one would still serve us well but the second machine also quitted our service. Thus,
we were on our own there, almost. The old Varanoide helped us a lot. Planet Tasik Perak
is a tough place; very beautiful but harsh. When Burek’s and mine second and last hopper
broke down, we were at the Karep Kisat Lake. Winter was had already started. At that
location, winters are cold and snow-rich.
The two younger Varanoides who sometimes came visiting the old one living near the lake
had last come in late autumn when our last hopper was still functional. Then, winter came
and we were snowed in at that house. The old alien had been so friendly as to offer us to
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stay at his place. Food was a bit scarce, though, for three people; and fuel was also
somewhat short of our requirement. Burek and I became very thin during those long
winter month. Even for the old Varanoide, the long winter was a tough time, even though
he had certainly experienced many of those seasons. When he became weaker, we always
made sure that he had his full rations of food and that his room was well-heated. As it was
his house and because we were his guests, we felt that we had to take care of him.
Actually, without this Varanoide, I would not be alive anymore. Yet, despite our care, the
aged alien grew weaker and weaker.
Perhaps because Burek and I took care of the old Varanoide so conscientious, he told us
more about the treasure and about the ancient civilisation that it once belonged to. He
also gave us a hand-drawn map of the area with the mines on it and some other places of
interest indicated, too. That was soon before the aged alien passed away. It was still well
below the freezing point outside. Burek and I made the dead body of the Varanoide lie
frozen under snow. When some time later the two other aliens came back, they could
perform for their ancestor the traditional burial tires of their race. They also told us that
the treasure the old legends spoke about was ceremonial; nothing for adventures to
become rich with but an item of reverence for spiritual beings of their species.
Those two Varanoides later on brought Burek and me to some inhabitable planet nearby.
They told us that human adventurers used to come to that place and that we therefore
should find a way to join another group and get away, or also stay and live there, if we
wanted. They asked us, though, to leave the Karep Kisat Lake alone and best stay away
from Tasik Perak altogether.
It was on that other planet, the name was Miranaye Wanitosi, that we met Lom
Claybrinck. Burek and I did not fully trust that fellow but we trusted him still far too much.
When we saw him for the first time, he was alone there. He had a nice hopper; good
brand, fairly new, well in shape. Burek and I had to work to earn some money. We had
come with the intention of looking after the treasure and become rich. We did not want
to stick around as adventurers with logging and small-scale gold washing. So, both of us
wanted to earn just enough to get away from planet Miranaye Wanitosi and then reach
some more civilises society again. We both had our professional training. I am a skilled
construction worker and Burek was a trained miner.
As we had told Claybrinck a little about where we had been and what we had done there,
he got ever more curios. He had heard of the legends concerning the treasure, too. Over
and over again, he asked questions about the treasure. We told him that if we knew about
it and if we had treasure or the knowledge about it; we would not hang around and slog
but live lavishly the luxurious life of the rich. He did not seem to believe us, though,
because he kept on asking.
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One day, Claybrinck asked Burek to join him for some work. Claybrinck brought forward
an excuse why Burek shall come along with him. My friend went with the monster. After
about one hour, I found that the whole business was in deed very fishy and that I should
go and see for Burek. I followed the traces that they had left on the ground and then I saw
how Claybrinck was torturing my friends in order to get some more information out of
him. The villain must have surprised Burek, struck him over the head and then bound him.
I was unarmed but immediately rushed toward the criminal and my friend, to save Burek
and give hell to Claybrinck. The villain had a gun but luckily it stalled. He drew a knife and
a fight ensued. At the end, I was badly wounded, Burek was severely wounded, and
Claybrinck escaped for the moment. We somehow made it back to our camp. When we
arrived there, we learned that Claybrinck had told everyone that we had tried to kill him
and that he feared us now and therefore fled from Miranaye Wanitosi. We told our
version of the story but suspicions remained among the other adventurers there. Burek
and I both needed medical attention but there was no doctor available; and we did not
have the money either. It was a group of Varanoides who took care of us. I had a deep
chest wound and they later made me understand that I had been hovering between life
and death for two weeks; at time I don’t have any memory about anymore.
Once Burek and I had recovered enough to move on our own, the Varanoides brought us
to the local landing platform. Miranaye Wanitosi was services by small spacecraft on an
irregular basis. At time, the little transporters were frequenting the place hebdomadally,
then they announced they’d come again only after a month; just as the captains and
managers judged demand. We got the cheapest fare to the closest destination; that was
all we could afford. There, we started working again to earn more money for our return to
civilisation. We both still possessed some financial resources on our home planets but we
needed to get there at first to draw on them. Work wasn’t easy for us because we both
were weakened by the long winter where our food supply was very limited and then by
the wounds and time of convalescence. People are losing power and stamina by such
events.
Claybrinck must have kept an eye on us; or we were excessively unlucky. We encountered
him again on that next planet where we have come. Perhaps because he wanted to
eliminate witnesses, or maybe to get rid of potential competitors for the treasure of the
Karep Kisat Lake on planet Tasik Perak, he tried to murder us again. Security was decently
on that world and so he could not get close to us with a gun. Thus, he sniped at us from
afar. Burek got a grazing shot that hit him on the left side of his chest; scraped in between
his left arm and the ribs. I was lucky enough to be the second on his list and because I had
already thrown myself to the ground, the projectiles smashed in around me but did not
hurt me. The shooting alarmed the other members of our working group and they came to
our rescue. Claybrinck again left, fleeting with his hopper.
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With Burek wounded again, we decided that it was best he would return home. We
collected all our money and paid the fore for him all the way back. His intention was to
get to his brother, who must be a wealthy planter, and recover there. Later, he wanted to
return and we agreed on going to another prospection tour together. We are both not the
kind of people who can sit in one place for too long. But till date, I have not heard from
my old friend Burek anymore. I had told him that I wanted to join for the time being the
company where I am now, so that he could find me whenever he had recovered fully
again.’
When Walterson ended his narration, Seb Melch stood up, looked around, raises his arms,
till there was silence, and the spoke: ‘Now, my friends, it is upon me to tell you some
more, to make the picture complete. Till date, I have been silent as to what I am and what
I do, but now, that already half the story had been told, you may likewise know the
entirety of it.’ He made a break of silence, thinking of how best to proceed. ‘Let me tell
you the further course of events in its timely order, then it will be easiest to comprehend’,
he announced. ‘Burek did return to his family; actually to his brother, who was in deed a
wealthy planter. He lived with his wife and three children on a semi-civilised planet. When
Burek arrived at his brother’s place, he was weak and sick. It turned out that he had
contracted an infection against which no medication was found. Within eight weeks of his
arrival, he faded away.
Then, Claybrinck entered the scene again. He appeared at the home of Burek’s brother,
feigning to be an entrepreneur who wanted to do business with him. The gangster made a
very generous offer for the annual harvest and thus managed to get invited to the family’s
home.
You may remember the hand drawn map that the old Varanoide gave to Burek and
Walterson before he died. The treasure that the old legends are telling about was to
remain hidden but not forgotten. According to what I have learned, it has cultic value for
some tribes of the Varanoides and therefore shall remain to them; loosing track of it was
not desirable. Therefore, the old Varanoide, when he felt his end coming, made this map
and gave it to the only living beings around; as his descendants were absent. This was to
ensure that the treasures would not be lost.’
When Seb Melch said this, Walterson nodded and confirmed it. ‘I forgot to tell this
because I was so focused on our common enemy Claybrinck and what harm he had done
to us’, he excused himself.
‘The crimes that Claybrinck had committed against you are part of the reason that I am
here’, Seb Melch disclosed. ‘As I mentioned, soon after the death of Burek, that villain
appeared at the brother’s plantation, giving a different name and ingratiating himself into
the house and trust of the family. There, he tried to find out what Burek had told about
the treasure; and if he had told anything at all. The family was so innocent as to make a
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few comments indication that Burek had told a few stories before he died. Thus,
Claybrinck smelled blood and was determined to find out more. Once he realised that he
could not retrieve more information by persuasion and soft talks, he resorted to hard
violence. One night, he over-stayed his invitation to the house and assaulted the family.
At this time, Claybrinck was alone, had not come with a private army of gangsters. He
tried to beat the secret of the treasure out of the family. To make his point, he tortured
family members and then killed some workers; just to show that he was serious. The
oldest son of the family managed to stage a counter-attack and ultimately they drove
Claybrinck out of the house. But that was only after the villain had already shot everybody.
Only the oldest son survived; albeit heavily wounded. Claybrinck had also found and taken
along a copy of the hand-drawn map that indicated several positons if importance to the
Varanoides, relating to the treasure on Tasik Perak.’
Again, Seb Melch was silent for a moment. He thought once more if he should reveal the
rest of the story, too. Then, he decided in favour of near-complete disclosure. ‘An aunt
from the family, was is involved into the fright shipping business and commands over nonnegligible financial means put a bounty on the head of the murderer. The only surviving
son of that family, not heir to the estate, topped that up with some additional reward.
They hired me to find the slyer; death or alive. And Duref here, he is the oldest son and
only surviving family member. He joined me as witness, to identify the murderer, and to
help me bring him to justice’, Seb Melch explained. ‘And now you know it, that I am a
bounty hunter of the old school; one who brings the villain’s head on a silver place or
piled up on a stick, as shrunken on the belt or still on the body, if that is requested and
warranted. I bring murderers to court or I bring them down if legal proceedings are not
possible.’ Here, Seb Melch paused yet once more. ‘I tell you all this because I am confident
that none of you will ever appear on my listed of wanted heads’, he confided.
When Melch had ended his account, Karumir Marudy and Achesh Akanem stood up and
indicated that they wanted to speak. ‘As chieftains of the Wasage tribe and the Cuhutis
Imutay tribe, we will prevent this horrible Lom Claybrinck to desecrate the sanctuary of
our ancestors. Whatever it may take, we are devouring our resources to hunting down
that villain! That is our solemn promise to the ancestors and our offer to you all, that you
also have to settle your scores with the gangster boss. Let us work together and pool our
means and skills so that we can make an end to that menace soon!’
The proposal was accepted with pleasure and great cheers by the other enemies of Lom
Claybrinck. Now only had the alliance of all his enemies gained with Mister Walterson one
more man, who was eager to take revenge, the pact also grew deeper with everybody
knowing why the bill the others had to settle with the arch-villain. Having achieved a
cordial entente, the allies celebrated their common spirit with the good meal.
Many lights years away from that scene of fierce concordance, four hoppers were on their
way along a broad, softly waved, calm hyperspace stream. Despite its breath, the current
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was of limited load-bearing capacity and sustained only hoppers and light spaceships. The
four space crafts were piloted by four humans. For anyone looking at them it was
immediately obvious that those four gentlemen were men who had spent lots of time in
the not-so-gentle free areas of the galaxy, far away from the effects of civilisation with
their tendency to render effeminate the exposed individuals. Their hoppers were stuffed
full with equipment and supplies of all sorts, including an impressive range of weapons.
They went at pleasant cruising speed.
One of the four hoppers was new Yamaha W-Max, the same model that Seb Melch had
also bought for Tom Grand, just that his sample here had left the factory only recently. It
was in great shape and its pilot looked similar. The man was in best health, of middle age,
with a slightly golden-brown skin and dark-blond hair. As he did not shave for a few days,
his face exhibited a dark-blond beard that covered his very lean, haggard features. This
man was of slightly above-average height, had very broad shoulders, a skinny belly and
the physique of an excellent field-and-tracks athlete or a mountaineer.
The second hopper was a Yamaha YW Morning Sun 2K-B, a huge machine that could
comfortable seat two human passengers if it weren’t stuffed full almost madly with a host
of things few people would ever expect all to fit into the vehicle. The man piloting it was
of roundish shape and had some optical resemblance to a hippo. He was a human, though,
but one who had lived in the wilderness for so long that he had acquired wild manners
and a wild appearance, too. With the utmost effort, though, he was still able to pull
himself together and behave like the distinguished gentleman he once was.
The other two hoppers defied any description. They were fantastic, incredible assemblies
of spare parts mounted together in amazing combinations. While their looks defied
description, their functionality defied the rules of engineering and the laws of physics, too.
Yet, they worked; and they worked fine. But how they worked could have driven a team
of brilliant engineers into hopeless madness. Anyone post-graduate student of
engineering who tried to write his doctoral thesis about why those two hoppers could still
glide through hyperspace well would be failed by his professors because it was simply
impossible. Still, those machines served their owners decently. It should be added that
these owners knew perfectly what to demand from their vehicles and what to spare them.
That was part of the secret.
As they were riding through hyperspace at their leisurely ease, a squadron of military
fighter jet came rushing along. It was rare to see them in this region for no big state had
any interest here warranting the expenditure and no small state could afford such
ventures anyway. The squadron consisted of dozen fighter jets. They quickly closed up to
the four hoppers. The military vehicles were several times bigger than those small private
means of hyperspace conveyance. Escape would have been possible if the hoppers pilots’
had entered the narrow side-currents that were diverting into all directions every here
and there. Because the four pilots all enjoyed a clear conscience, they just carried on till
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the fighter jets closed up and signalled them to leave hyperspace. Faced with superior
military might, the four complied. Once back in normal space, the military fighter jets first
demanded identification from the hopper’s pilots. But those were useless in the free areas
of the galaxy. They anyway could be fakes. Therefore, the military jets sent out small
reconnaissance drones that approached the hoppers and lured through the windshields,
taking and remitting digital scans of all that their sensitive sensors detected back to the
fighter jets. There, toe information got processes; or maybe not. The hopper riders could
not know. After some minutes, the commander of the squadron addressed them again.
‘We are looking for several perpetrators who have caused massive trouble with the Modio
sub-tribe of the Varanoides’ Kudesh tribe’, the officer explained. ‘But you don’t fit the
description. It’s our mission to calm those issues down’, he told.
The emblem of the Allied Jurisdictions of the Beautiful Worlds was visible on the fighter
jets. This organisation was one of the few big states that occasionally had some business
in the area. They were engaged in some minor raw material trade inside the region and
they had an interest in keeping the major hyperspace streams running through it free
from obstacles. Trouble with the Varanoides could turn into such an obstacle. Therefore,
it was possible that the commander of the military fighter jets said the truth. Usually, the
adventurers living in the free area of the galaxy harboured certain distrust, sometimes
even a very deep-rooted antipathy, against the states. These adventurers had come to the
free areas exactly for that very reason: because they were free.
‘Did you see anyone recently?’ the governmental fellow asked.
He four riders had not met anyone during the past few days and they told him so.
‘Beware of the Modio Kudesh Varanoides!’ the officer warned.
‘We usually don’t have any issue with them’, the hopper pilots replied.
‘But they might have an issue with you’, the squadron leader said. ‘You see, what
happened was this: some human robbed and killed about hundred fifty or two hundred
Modio Kudesh Varanoides altogether. The first hundred or so victims were murdered at
the incident of the looting and the others at different occasions when the gangsters and
the aliens clashed again. The human bandits must have raided a camp of fairly helpless,
gold-washing aliens; thus the great number of casualties on their side. The Modio Kudesh
were upset and as they had identified the perpetrators as humans, they sent a delegation
to our base at planet Undeb Gaer to demand compensation for the damages. Actually,
they were quite reasonable but unfortunately, the request was declined; reason being
that we don’t have anything to do with the gangsters. To our knowledge, the villains don’t
fall under our jurisdiction here and we’re not responsible. Anyway, not we are conducting
a big military operation that will cost more than what the aliens had demanded as
damage compensation. To keep the bill low, the Gimee tribe of the Varanoides was
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contacted and asked for help, as they are anyway often at odds with the Modio Kudesh.
With our backing, they are given a chance to loot anyone attacking. That’s because the
Modio Kudesh are now mad at us; or actually at the humans around here in general, but
we don’t have the resources to patrol all that area here. We are, though, trying to find
those perpetrators and solved the issue. Therefore, if you see any suspicious activities or
suspicious people, let us know.’ With these words he forwarded a description of the
criminals to the four hoppers.
Then, the squadron of military fighter jets hurried on and the four private hoppers also
returned to hyperspace, being piloted into the other direction. All four travellers were
glad they were alone again. None of them felt good in the presence of that superior
military might. They were used to live alone, used to cope with matters alone, used to
settle their issues alone. Being subjected to overwhelming power did not make them feel
comfortable at all. At the civilised worlds where they all came from originally, there were
rules and regulations, laws and bureaucracies. People had to comply a lot but there were
also ways to use the system and subjects were granted some rights. Out here, in the free
areas of the galaxy, the military folks, or even more general the state powers, demanded
compliance to their will but did not grant the same procedural and legal rights to people.
Had the fighter jet squadron commander just given the order to wipe all four hoppers out,
nothing much bad would happen to him; he probably wouldn’t even have to face a formal
reprimand. The free areas of the galaxy were largely lawless and that applied to anyone.
Even the militaries of the states behaved lawless and acted at will in these regions.
Therefore, the adventurers generally did not feel good in the presence of governmental
forces.
Even those four hopper pilots, who were again cruising along the same hyperspace stream
that they had earlier travelled on, were happy to be among themselves again. Those four
gentlemen had done nothing against the law and they should not have anything to fear
from it, but yet they frowned upon that use of force. Then man in the brand-new Yamaha
W-Max grumbled most. He hated the ides of humans and Varanoides clashing. This alien
race had developed space flight a little before the humans. In terms of the universe, it was
about the same time but like twins who are born to the same mother, one came a bit
earlier. This little advance enabled the foreign race to road around wide and far before
the humans came and did the same. In other parts of the galaxy, the Varanoides had
established great civilisations with planets sustaining many more residents than even the
most advances human colonies. There, the Varanoides had reached a level of technology
and science that surpassed the best that the humans had achieved considerably. Here,
though, in the free areas of the galaxy, the Varanoides had come back to live according to
their ancient tribal structure, born hunters and skilled predators as they were, they
survived on very little. Despite having reached such a high level of science and technology
elsewhere, these aliens who came to the free areas of the galaxy were stronger and better
adapted to living in the wilderness than the humans. Thus, they could live with fewer
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things; and that’s what they did. They survived on less and they possessed and carried
along less.
The grumbling man in the new Yamaha W-Max was Vin Lakes, an adventurer as
experienced as could be. Hardly anyone else in the galaxy had seen as much as he did.
Next to him, in the Yamaha YM Morning Sun 2k-B was Kof Sakay. The two machines that
defied any description miraculously moved along with Hely Mor and Turvat Crown, two
gentlemen of very peculiar looks. Turvat Crown was very tall and very thin; very skinny
actually. In any assembly of humans standing on even ground, he was towering above
anyone else. Yet, he could hide behind anyone else as he was so skinny. Hely Mor was the
least conspicuous of all the four pilots. But then, looking so normal and ordinary among all
those noticeable individuals roaming around in the free areas of the galaxy, he was in a
way flamboyant again. Like always, he was clean shaven and well-groomed. His physique
was of tender built and he likes to dress elegantly. This, he managed to achieve even out
here in the wilderness; almost, most of the time, at least.
As these four were gliding along through hyperspace, Vin Lakes was grumbling on. ‘First,
the Modio Kudesh are raided by humans, many of them are killed, their property is
robbed. When they complain to us, they are rejected. They may have complained at the
wrong address, but still, it would be much better to comply with their demands than to
have a fight with them that will cost much more. And then, who knows if not subjects of
the Allied Jurisdictions of the Beautiful Worlds actually did commit those atrocities. About
hundred individuals killed in the first raid; and about as many more killed later in fights.
Of course, the Modio Kudesh are angry. And now, these brilliant strategists ask their
traditional competitors, the Gimee, to descend on them savagely and attack and loot
them, so that the military of the Allied Jurisdictions of the Beautiful Worlds doesn’t have
to incur such high cost. It’s no wonder that the Modio Kudesh will feel driven to the
extreme. How deep must their exasperation be? Woe betide any one human falling into
their claws. And that brings the whole nonsense to us who are travelling through the area
where they have been roaming for long now. They’ll just be eager to see us off to go to
the happy hunting ground.’ Vin Lakes was grouching and cursing and the others could just
agree. The situation was clear and their situation had become somewhat more difficult
because of the crimes committed by others. It was by no means a certainty that the four
hopper riders were to encounter any Varanoides on their travel, let alone those from the
Modio Kudesh tribe. But if the four human pilots came across these, they might face
trouble.
In the wilderness of the free areas of the galaxy, Varanoides and humans usually got along
well. The problems resulted most of the time either from newcomers who could not
behave well with the respective other sider, because they knew not enough about them,
from criminals, or from governmental actions. Being driven only too often by shortsighted domestic political pressures, governments had a tendency to misbehave toward
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the other species; all of them. That these were idiocies just causing problems and not
leading to anything good even in the medium term was something that big-state
politicians couldn’t be bothers to understand. That the Varanoides had developed into
societies surpassing the highest level of human civilisation attained yet at different
locations did not work as motivation to treat them with more respect here, where the big
human states were closer by and exercises more of a clout over the area; however weak
that influence may actually be. Just being a little stronger than the aliens in this place
motivated powerful human governments to act irresponsibly towards the Varanoides.
That those fallacies were giving rise to many troublesome issues for the adventurers
roaming around in the free areas didn’t disturb those governments the least. The
adventurers had no influence on domestic politics and thus were no part of the equation.
That the relation between the humans and the big, powerful, technologically advances
states of the Varanoides could suffer, was no concern for the local elites either.
But then, the aliens were not much smarter either. Just because some humans raided
some of their folks did not give them the justifiable right to complain to any human
settlement and demand compensation for losses. The Varanoides should also have
learned that not all humans were the same; that they looked differently from one another,
that they belonged to different entities and that some of them had nothing to do with
others of them. As well as the red-scaled aliens knew the differences between their clans
and tribes and tribal unions and federations, they should understand that humans also
belonged to different states; and that some belonged to no such jurisdiction at all and just
did whatever they wanted without anyone else being responsible for it. The Varanoides
had their own advanced civilisations, commanding over amazing technology. Even the
wild tribal aliens in the free areas of the galaxy should understand their own example and
draw conclusions to the organisation of human society. But over there, at the other end of
the galaxy, in those mighty states of the Varanoides, the wilderness was of not much
concern either. The same political mechanisms rules there as they did within the human
societies. And the aliens learned as little about the humans as these tried to understand
the other species. Everybody was just busy with his own issues and refused to gain a little
insight into the ways of the others; even though would make his own live much easier.
As the four pilots were grumbling while riding along their chose pathway in hyperspace,
they were joined by two more hoppers. Those had come from a narrow current that
joined the bigger main stream from the direction of the Atu region. Those two hoppers
were of the small variety that the Varanoides preferred. When they closed up, Vin Lakes
and his friends first believed them to be piloted by aliens. But soon, the newcomers
signalled that they were humans and would like to join the other riders on their way. They
messaged that they had heard about some trouble that certain Varanoides were giving
human and were no afraid. A bad feeling crept over the four pilots. Those two came from
the region where the atrocities against the Varanoides had taken place and they were
riding hoppers that were typical for the aliens; the machines could have been robbed from
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them. But the free areas of the galaxy were exactly that: free. Anyone could travel
wherever he wanted, at his own risk. Nobody had the right of either permitting for
forbidding anyone else to travel anywhere; unless he had the right of the stronger, though.
But none of the hoppers of Vin Lakes and his friends had external weapons and so they
were bare of the right of the stronger. For pushing the other riders out of the hyperspace
stream, the current they were gliding on along was too robust. For increasing speed and
rushing away, two of the four hoppers, those of Hely Mor and Turvat Crown, were too
frail. Taking another way was no option because Vin Lakes and his companions were on
the fastest route toward their destination, where they had to arrive in time because they
had an appointment.
Vin Lakes thought about asking those two new fellows who wanted to ride with his group
if they belonged to the bandits who had robbed the Modio Kudesh Varanoides. But if they
were those, they would hardly reply in the affirmative. If they were none of them, they
would feel insulted. Thus, asking was of no use. He couldn’t forbid it to them anyway.
Therefore, he said nothing of that sort. Because Vin Lakes was the leader of his small
group, the others left the decision to him; and therefore said nothing, too. Faced with the
choice between being rude and travelling with bandits, against whom he could not do
much anyway, Vin Lakes ultimately decided on a half-hearted reply. ‘We are going our
way. You are going your way. If we share a lag of the way, so be it.’ Apparently, it was
enough for the two other fellows. They just fell in line and cruised along with the four
riders.
Vin Lakes’ half-hearted answer wasn’t to yield him anything good, because trouble was
brewing already. Actually, trouble was boiling; in the form of boiling anger filling out heart
and mind of Seilon Boloidumor, chieftain of the Varanoide Modio Kudesh sub-tribe.
The two pilots with their small hoppers that were typically used by the red-scaled aliens
were in deed gangsters and they were not just such bandits but they belonged to those
who had assaulted the Modio Kudesh. The origin of that crime had its roots in yet another
malediction born out of Lom Claybrinck’s heinousness. Having escaped the grand disaster
of his gang with only twenty of his minions, the villains’ boss at first had decided to make
do with those few men. He was fed up with the incompetency of all those useless
creatures, as he termed them in his unspoken thoughts. Later, though, while thinking of
the difficulties yet to overcome, he changed his mind again. Having plenty of gun-fodder
readily available was a great feast for any brilliant strategist; and as such he considered
himself. Every stratagem contained some dangerous elements and danger brought risk
along with it. Risk included the probability of inconvenience; and that best borne by useful
fools who could be tricked into complying with whatever command by some motivational
speech or promises. It was easy for Claybrinck to make even the most grandiose of
promises because he never bothered himself with even a single thought of how to keep
them.
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Claybrinck’s change of mind had been affected by his consideration that he had to travel
through areas where some of the fiercest tribal Varanoides roamed and that the treasure
itself was likely to be contested. The rumours had it that the treasure originated from the
red-scaled aliens and thus in a way belonged to them; or so they might believe. Then,
Claybrinck had gained the impression that other human adventurers were also striving to
reach planet Tasik Perak. To cope with those combined adversary forces of Varanoides
and human adventurers it was useful to have sufficient manpower for overcoming those
obstacles to sheer-endless richness.
Therefore, Lom Claybrinck had collected any desperado who was willing and capable to
join. He baited them with his usual promises of fantastic wealth and they followed him
like lamb to the shambles. They did not know better and still thought themselves lucky
that they met him and much smarter than their hones contemporaries who earned their
livelihood without looting and robbing.
Two of those desperados whom Claybrinck had collected on his way through the Lori
region of the galaxy were those who just joined Vin Lakes and his friends on their travel
along that calm hyperspace stream. The names of those two not-at-all gentle men were
Gyldun and Genok. Not too long ago, they had been the leaders of a veritable gang of
blood-thirsty gangsters; all of them newly recruited villains ready to follow their big boss
Lom Claybrinck.
This big boss, as he liked to see himself, was surprise by his success. The number of
desperados who were eager to join him swelled ever more, the further he came. It was, as
if gangsters were ruled by their own law of gravity. The more there were already, the
more additionally came to join the crowd. Perhaps, this unexpected success supported by
those bandits’ ignorance about the past losses that Claybrinck’s gangs had suffered.
Travelling through an area where his fame had not yet reached in full detail, his promises
and stories of past raids met with fewer questions.
Soon, the group of gangsters was so large, that moving inconspicuously along narrow
hyperspace currents became difficult; even impossible. Provisioning became a delicate
task, too. Therefore, Claybrinck decided to divide his forces. Because Genok and Gyldun
seemed to have gained great experience in the region, they were to lead the one column
of bandits. Thus, within just a few days, those two gangsters were promoted from
ordinary, lone villains to leaders of a veritable raiding force. In their new role, they initially
succeeded. They lead their group of gangsters that their big boss had entrusted with them
well and covered a great distance. Then, matters started going wrong. Bandits being
bandits, a general mood of greed took hold among the gang. Some villains did not have
their own hopper; some wanted a better machine. Some gangsters just wanted to raid
anyone and rob anything; no matter whom and what; just out of pure aggression. Because
on their predetermined way there was nothing to loot, the gang wanted to change
direction. Gyldun and Genok still managed to prevent that but the next time the bandits
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wanted something, they had to give in. It should be just a little raid, designated to work
like an open emergency valve of a steam kettle: to let out surplus pressure.
Unfortunately for everybody, the next possible victims were a group of Modio Kudesh
Varanoides. They were harmless creatures, un-prepared for any raid, almost un-armed,
and busy washing gold in a river on some remote planet hardly ever anyone had heard
about. It was rather by accident that the group of gangsters stumbled over these redscaled aliens. Genok and Gyldun had sent a scout as advance guard in front of the bulk of
their hoppers and that fellow detected some fait traces in the hyperspace current. He
followed the tracks and came to an inhabitable planet that was densely forested. Because
of some radio transmissions, the Varanoide’s location was detected quickly. The villains,
upon learning about the alien gold-washer camp fell into a murderous frenzy of hideous
bloodlust and descended upon the poor creatures like rabid wolves on cute little rabbits.
The event was an abhorrent carnage and largely futile. It yielded some hoppers and some
little gold. It also caused the Modio Kudesh to become mad. The whole sub-tribe soon
swore revenge.
While the initial raid went well for the gangsters but terrible for the Varanoides, later
encounters ended with different results. The red-scaled aliens, after learning of the plight
of their tribal brethren and sisters, set forth to destroy their enemy. They followed the
traces through hyperspace and assailed them there. Some of the Varanoides’ hoppers
were prepared for going on the warpath; with external weapons attached to their hulls.
From that moment on, the bandits around Genok and Gyldun were the victims and the
Modio Kudesh tribal aliens were the predators. The day before, six men of the whole gang
were still alive. Then, in the evening, another four were killed in a skirmish. Now, Gyldun
and Genok were again alone, just the two of them and just like as they were before
meeting Claybrinck and subsequently becoming gang-leaders of their own column. Those
two alone had the luck of escaping the wrath of the Varanoides; till date. The difference
between now and the times before they met Lom Claybrinck for the first time consisted of
a little additional experience that they had gained during those short days and a lot of
terribly mad Modio Kudesh Varanoides who were after them to cause them discomfort; to
put it mildly.
Genok and Gyldun were exhausted. They had not slept much ever since the encounter
with the Varanoides that cost so many of their former comrades their life. At times, one of
them had taken the lead and the other one had slept, keeping the hopper on automated
control so that it followed precisely every movement the respective leading hopper made.
They could not get on at maximum speed like this, though. Spending several days in a
hopper wasn’t a holiday either; though, of course, there were worse experienced that
men could make. What the Varanoides had in stock for them, just for example, was
definitively more inconvenient than sleeping in the pilot’s seat of such a machine. Gyldun
and Genok had both captured alien hoppers for themselves; well, not alien by make but
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alien by previous owner. The Varanoides kept their machines in best condition, tending
for them almost as nicely as humans took care of their babies. Thus, alien hoppers were
usually in the very best condition. Their own, old machines had suffered a bit from the
dent of time, so new ones were a rational choice; especially when they were so cheap;
they just had to take them. Now, though, it looked as if those hoppers might have been
for sale only if the purchaser was ready to pay with his life.
That price was to be demanded rather sooner than later. It did not take long and a lot of
Varanoide hoppers were around them. Vin Lakes realised that there were more than two
hundred machines. Some of them had guns mounted on their outside. That was a custom
feature that factories usually did not offer; and especially not for private customers. Such
add-ons had to be done later; either as do-it-yourself work or commissioned from
specialist mechanics. Such work wasn’t legally done in the big states and the quality was
often lacking. Still, external weapons turned a hopper into a miniature version of a fighter
jet. The risk of technical problems was one disadvantage of such constructions. The other
potential issue consisted in the strong antipathy that all organised security forces
including the militaries of all major jurisdictions, both alien and human, had against such
self-rigged arms carriers. If hoppers with external weapons came in sight, the military
often preferred to shoot first and ask later; if at all anything remained that warranted
questions.
At the moment, though, there was no military of any state in sight but more than two
hundred hoppers belonging to the Modio Kudesh tribe. The leader of that swarm was the
enraged Seilon Boloidumor, their chieftain. Their scouts had followed the traces that
Gyldun and Genok caused when they travelled along the hyperspace currents. The bulk of
the warriors then again followed those scouts. Now, they had found their prey. Having
followed their tracks from the coordinates of the initial raid on the peaceful Varanoide
gold washers right to the perpetrators, the red-scaled aliens were certain that they had
finally found the criminals. But now there were six hoppers in total and they had believed
to be following just two. The Varanoides concluded from the traces that those two had
joined these others just a little while ago. Were those other four pilots allies of the villains
or were they just accidental passers-by? And if they were accidental passers-by, why then
had those two gangsters joined them as if they knew each other and travelled together?
Chieftain Seilon Boloidumor decided that others should decide about that question at
another time. He would just round up all of them and bring them to the main camp of his
tribe. He messaged this order to all of the six human-piloted hoppers. Vin Lakes objected
but the Varanoide chieftain insisted on obedience and substantiated his demand of
authority with a show of force. A single military fighter jet could have ended that farce
within seconds but there was no such machine around. Thus, Vin Lakes and his friends had
no reasonable other choice but to comply. Had they refused to come along, the aliens
would have opened fire.
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All six human pilots had to follow the aliens to the planet where they had set up their
base camp. Judging from the two hundred hoppers that had intercepted them, Vin Lakes
was expecting a camp of not more than three hundred families. Some of the warriors
usually remained within the vicinity of the camp, if the Varanoides were moving around
with their families. The female red-scales aliens were not less strong and dangerous than
the males, but they refrained from fighting until there was no other choice. Being equally
big and strong as the male Varanoides, the females of that species did not need to be
protected, cared for, supplied and provided with what they and the children needed. That,
they could all take care of on their own. The tribe needed the females for sustenance,
though. As long as there was even a single male Varanoide left in one tribe, the group
could continue to exist. But every lost female endangered the progeny. Therefore, the
Varanoide tribes were very much concerned about the welfare of their females. The male
members of the tribe were taking over the more risky occupations. That resulted in a
chronic shortage of males.
Vic Lakes had not much time to recapitulate the biological and cultural foundations of the
Varanoide tribal society. He and his companies and also the two gangsters were pushed to
land their hoppers are a place near the huge camp, where the red-scales aliens also
parked their machines. Then, the humans were prompted to exit their vehicles and come
along to the central place of the camp. Varanoide warriors had surrounded the hoppers
and aimed with their weapons at the humans all the time. Vin Lakes and his friend were
somewhat tensed because of the general situation. The two gangsters were obviously
afraid. Their faces and their body language showed that they felt very uncomfortable.
Lakes avoided telling them how much more inconvenient if would most likely soon get for
them.
At the central ground, a number of Varanoide dignitaries sat around a big fireplace. There
was still amber from last evening’s fire and the wood for this night was already being
collected and piled up. Seilon Boloidumor presented his captives to the tribal elders. He
was the chieftain but the elders also held a lot of power. Among the Modio Kudesh, the
chieftain was comparable to the head of the executive branch of government while the
elders were the lawmakers and judges. Ultimately, the chieftain was responsible to the
whole tribe but in daily practice, he had to answer the assembly of the elders.
Seilon Boloidumor introduced the humans as the last few remaining murderers of those,
who were guilty of the assault on the harmless Varanoide gold washers.
Vic Lakes objected in a somewhat accent-affected yet clearly understandable standard
Kudesh dialect. He did not speak the Modio variety but he could make sense of most that
was being said by the aliens. The Varanoides were impressed with Lakes’ skills. But
despite their astonishment about his command of their tongue, Seilon Boloidumor hissed
unfriendly at Vin Lakes: ‘How dare you criminal to contradict me!’
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‘I am no criminal’, Lakes insisted. ‘My friends Hely Mor, Tuvat Crown, and Kof Sakay are
no criminals either. We are all innocent travellers who were intercepted by you. We did
not provoke you and we did no harm to you. Therefore, you shall let us go!’
‘You deny that you were involved in the assault at our people that cost so many lives?’ the
Modio Kudesh chieftain shouted, full of anger. ‘How dare you defy truth so brazenly?’
‘I firmly state that neither me nor my friends have done you or your tribe or any
Varanoide any harm’, Vin confirmed again.
‘But we have followed your tracks’, the chieftain reinforced his accusation.
‘You did not follow our tracks but the traces of those two, whom we do not know and
whom we do not have anything to do with’, Lakes clarified.
‘You are travelling along with them like friends, like comrades, like accomplices’; the redscaled Varanoide bristled with anger.
‘We were travelling on our way and we have travelled on that way for a long time’, Vin
explained. ‘You will have seen that from the traces that we left. That good your skills must
certainly be. The others then joined us and rode parallel to us. We did not change our
course and we did not accommodate them in any way. They just were around us. That
was not against any rule and we had neither reason nor means to object, because anyone
may use the hyperspace streams.’
‘We followed the tracks of those villains from the point of their crime to the point where
they met you’, Seilon Boloidumor expounded. ‘You received them as friends and therefore
you must be their accomplice.’
‘I am Vin Lakes and I am not the accomplice of any criminal!’
A murmur went around among the Varanoides. They knew the name Vin Lakes. He was a
man of fame among those aliens and he was well known for being honourable and a longstanding friend of the Red Scales.
‘So, what do you say about these two comrades of yours’, the tribal chieftain questioned.
‘They are not my comrades’, Lakes repeated. ‘They rode on the same hyperspace stream
that I and my friends also used. That’s all. I have never seen their faces before.’
‘Why don’t you defend us’, Gyldun, one of the gangsters asked Vic. ‘They are accusing us
of murder and they will kill us and you pretend to be insouciant. How can you do that to a
fellow human being? Don’t you have enough honour to stand for us?’
‘I just spoke the truth, nothing more and nothing less’, Lakes gave back. ‘I shall not bear
false witness against my neighbour’, he stated firmly. ‘But I shalt not bear false witness for
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my neighbour either’, he added. ‘If you killed the Varanoides whom you are accused of
having murdered, you will receive your sentence and punishment accordingly. If you don’t
like the delivery, then don’t order the parcel. The day of judgement catches up with
anyone and if it is your fate to pay the price for your big debt, then redemption shall be
yours now’, Lakes reproached the gangster.
‘But your name seems to have weight among the Varanoides’, Genok begged. ‘We are
fellow human beings and we should hold together for the sake of our species!’
‘I take every individual by its own merit’, Lakes responded. ‘Words come easy. Words
come cheap. I do not rely on what people say. I shall know them by their deeds. Those are
what matters, because those are real. What you have done or not, I did not see. I just saw
that you joined us; when and there you joined us and from where you came. Anything
else I did not see and thus did not say.’
‘But your reputation among the aliens is obviously high and you could possibly save us
from the dire fate that does await us if you let this happen’, Genok pleaded.
‘That is not upon me to decide’, Lakes stated. He was right with his statement. Reputation
or not, there was nothing that he could do to help those two. If they were guilty of two
hundred Varanoide deaths, then practically nothing could save them from the aliens’
revenge. Should the aliens really spare them, which was about as likely as the chance of
snowball that has been thrown into a furnace the last day see the coming day, the military
of the Allied Jurisdictions of the Beautiful Worlds was still there to hunt them down and
haul them over the coals for their disturbance of the relation with the Varanoides and the
associated cost. When it came to cost and to those perpetrators causing it, the Allied
Jurisdictions of the Beautiful Worlds was about as merciless as a hungry shark smelling the
scent of a bleeding tuna.
In a last, desperate attempt to save his life, Gyldun turned to Vin Lakes and shouted: ‘Why
do you pretend that you are innocent. You were with us when we raided the Varanoides.
You were there and you were the one who commanded all of us. We followed you and
you gave us all the orders, you made the plan and you told us where to attack and how to
take those aliens by surprise. Now, you claim innocence. Why don’t you have the courage
to let your great words follow deeds and confess to those who want to hold you
accountable for your atrocities?’ Then, Gyldun turned to the Varanoide council of elders
and addressed them, pointing toward Lakes: ‘This man was the mastermind. He told us
what to do. He developed the scheme for the assault. It was his idea and his idea alone.
We all were just followers, fellow-runners who had no say, where not asked, and just had
to comply.’
‘Shut up’, Seilon Boloidumor yelled. ‘I understood your conversation earlier. I heard what
you said to Vin Lakes. It is clear that you met him here for the first time. His tracks and the
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traces of his friends’ hoppers were not to be found in the hyperspace near the assault
location. You are just a liar and you have no right to spread your infamies!’ Then, the
tribal chieftain turned to Vin Lakes again: ‘You were not there, that is clear, but you could
have been the master-mind behind the whole assault. These two villains could have come
to meet you and hand the prey over to you. They clearly did not see you before but the
idea, the concept for the atrocities could still have been yours.’
‘If those two are guilty of committing numerous murders against your people, they fall
within your jurisdiction. If you have proof to incriminate them, then accuse them. If your
council of elders judges them guilty, then condemn them. Nobody will object’. Vin Lakes
argued. ‘But I and my friends here, we are innocent. You have no proof that we were
involved in those atrocities that you tell about. If you give us the time, we can tell you
where we were back then and maybe we can find witnesses to support our testimony. If
you even dare to lay a finger on anyone of us and hurt only one hair, you will be guilty and
you will be called to account by great powers. If you hurt innocent people, you will be the
criminal and you will be punished. So, better think of what you do and whom you want to
accuse.’
‘That you did not take part in the atrocities is obvious’, Seilon Boloidumor conceded. ‘But I
repeat that you could be the mastermind behind the crime. You could have set an
appointment with those two gangsters to have them hand over their bounty to you.’
‘Be cautious of what you claim’, Lakes gave back. ‘If you have any proof, put it forward. If
you don’t, then let us go. You will know that I have powerful friends among the
Varanoides and among the humans. If you hurt us, if you even kill us, many will cry for
revenge, and many will follow up those words with actions and come after you.
The Varanoide chieftain was starting to feel insecure. It was true that he had no proof of
any wrong-doing. It was true that Vin Lakes had many good friends among the aliens and
the humans alike. Sure, he could get into deep trouble if he hurt innocent humans; and
especially this innocent human. But then, he did not want to let go his captives just like
this. Yes, he was aware that he could do with those two who were certainly guilty as he
pleased. But then, there were four others whom he captured along with those two and he
felt that somehow these should also be guilty. More than two hundred members of his
tribe had died. Taking revenge on just two murderers did not seem enough. How should
one man suffer for the death of one hundred? That was a technical problem. No man
could suffer as much as hundred had suffered when they got killed. But then, on the other
hand, risking a major conflict with other Varanoides and even with the Allied Jurisdictions
of the Beautiful Worlds, or maybe with other big states might not be worth it either. And
what if those four were really innocent? Letting them go would probably save him from
some trouble but it would also make him look like a fool, catching the wrong guys and
bringing them along to the great camp of judgement and accusing them and then being
told that they were innocent.
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Lots of such heavy thoughts went through the head of Seilon Boloidumor. Best, he
concluded, to let some time elapse. Maybe the solution came by itself. Had not fate often
enough taken care of matters? ‘You made many claims that have to be checked’, the
Varanoide chieftain thus said to Vin Lakes. ’We have to verify them and reconsider the
accusation. We shall do that tomorrow. Today, the day is already advanced and we shall
rest.’ Then, he turned around and pointed toward Genok and Gyldun. ‘These two are
certainly guilty and they deserve punishment.’ He gave some orders in his Varanoide
dialect and the two gangsters were taken away by a couple of strong aliens. More for the
formal integrity of the process he asked the elders for their judgement. The answer came
immediately and was obvious. Gyldun and Genok were guilty and would be executed.
Directing his words again at Vin Lakes and friends, the Modio Kudesh chieftain ordered
them to remain till the next morning in one tend on the camp ground. Their trial would
resume the other day. He warned them to try exiting their assigned abode and try to
reach their hoppers. The hoppers and the tent that was to serve as the remand prison
were to be guarded heavily. There were sentinels all around and they were given strict
firing order.
Vic Lakes agreed but asked to get some of his luggage. He was not allowed to take it by
himself but if he described it well, some Varanoide could get it for him. Vin accepted that
condition and gave an account of what he wanted. It was especially one bottle with some
certain oil that he needed. He told the Varanoide that this oil was a good medicine for
humans against cough. The tribal chieftain was amused that in the face of looming death,
after all he was demanding the death penalty for all the humans, these people worried
about cough. Anyway, he granted the wish and Lakes got his bottle, together with his
sleeping bag. The other three men could also get their sleeping bags. Then, they were led
to the tent where they should remain till the next morning.
When the evening was approaching, the Varanoides piled up the dry wood that had
collected during the daytime at the fireplace. Once the evening cool set in, they set the
wood ablaze and a great bonfire formed the centre of the tribal camp ground.
When they were in the tent that was to be their prison for the night, the three other men
asked Vin Lakes, why he did not seem to be worried much.
‘This is 1,8-Cineol’, Lakes replied, holding the bottle with the oil up. ‘It’s also called 1,3,3Trimethyl-2-oxabicyclo[2.2.2]octan and 1,8-Epoxy-p-menthan. More people know it as
Limonen-1,8-oxid. The majority will make sense of the term Eucalyptol’, Vin lectured.
‘It’s good against caught and common cold’, the others replied. ‘But our dead bodies will
be damn cold soon if those Varanoides don’t change their mood. They are currently so
keen on revenge that they will kill us just for the chill of it’, the men feared.
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‘They will change their mood soon’, Lakes reassured them, smiled broadly, cautiously held
the neck of the bottle out of the tent’s entrance and poured the liquid out on the ground
there. A dazzling, stunning, mind boggling smell of eucalyptus filled the tent, as the oil
evaporated.
‘What?’
‘Eucalyptol helps us against the cold but it causes the heat in the Varanoide’, Vin
explained. ‘Eucalyptol is an enormously strong aphrodisiac for these aliens. It also
increases their fertility. It works the same way as their major sexual hormone; just much
stronger. The Varanoides in a radius of up to five kilometres will spend the night of their
lives. Eucalyptol brings their females in heat and it makes the males go bonkers. That is
then re-enforced by the females’ oestrus state and so on. This night will be rutting season
for our Varanoides here; but of the supercharged version on steroids. They’ll all mate like
mad. Tomorrow, our dear Varanoides will all be very happy and very calm. The amount of
Eucalyptol in that bottle shall drive them to total exhaustion. In addition, heir mating
releases hormones that will make them feel happy and relaxed. Tomorrow, we’ll face a
very calm, very quiescent, relishing in sheer boundless felicity; if we have to face them at
all. They might be so exhausted and happy that we could perhaps walk away without
them doing anything against it.’
‘But what about these two gangsters’, Hely Mor asked. ‘Will they also escape?’
A terrible, frightening cry answered his question. The death cry came clearly out of a
human throat. Several more yell of agony over several minutes. Then, it must have been
over for Gyldun and Genok. The Varanoides had their revenge. The Eucalyptol’s effect
came too late for those two villains, but then, death was their fate anyway because of
their infamous turpitudes. Had they escaped here, sooner or later, either the Varanoides
or the big states military or some adventurers would catch them and hand them over or
kill them right away, to re-gain peace with the Modio Kudesh.
‘They can’t smell the Eucalyptol’, Vin Lakes made the thoughts return to the Varanoides.
Frightening as their death cries had been, Gyldun and Genok were history now. The fate of
the four innocent adventurers was still to be determined. ‘It goes directly into the neuritic
receptors, docks there and exercises its influence. In the males, its thousands of times
stronger than the natural scent of the females when they are ready for the mating season.
In the females, it generates a hormonal cascade that brings them into head; again it works
much stronger than the hormones of their natural cycle.’ Lakes smiled when he explained
all this. ‘They will have the night of their life and they won’t even have the faintest scent
of how that comes about’, he commented, chuckling over his own pun. ‘When I learned
about this effect of Eucalyptol, I felt that one day it could coma handy to have a good
supply if that stuff with me and ever since I took some of that ambrosial oil along.
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The night was eventful for everyone in the camp of the Modio Kudesh Varanoides. The
four adventurers tried to sleep but only so often they were woken up by the rutting calls
of the aliens in heat. Their bells of lust perturbed the healthy slumber of the adventurers
every now and then; and the physical action proved even more of a disturbance because
several times hotly mating aliens stumbled onto the tent or over the ropes that held it.
The night wasn’t half over when the tent was already half down. For the four adventurers
it was like trying to sleep in the middle of a TV shop when an all devices Discovery Channel
is set at maximum loudness with a broadcast show of – well – rutting season of very big
and very loud creatures. Given that the Varanoides were big, red-scales aliens with claws
and a shape very different from anything that humans usually find attractive, that real live
mating show would be a nuisance even from an aesthetic point of view. But the four
adventurers did not want to see it; they never peeped out of their tent. They had no
intention to disturb the Varanoides in their strenuous action but rather let them exhaust
themselves in pleasure. Just don’t make the aliens think of their captives anymore. And as
the Eucalyptol just worked on mature Varanoides, triggering the bio-chemical cascade for
mating there, all the busy participants in that alien orgy were consenting adults, from an
ethical point of view. Thus, there was nothing to worry about from that perspective, too.
And because their mating worked with scents and smell, identifying available individuals,
there was no risk whatsoever for anyone of becoming an un-natural object of attention.
Therefore, the four adventurers could all sleep with a calm mind, if they were left to
slumber. To their annoyance, that wasn’t the fact till quite late.
Toward the morning, the exuberant action outside slowly calmed down. Now, with peace
setting in, time for sleep came. Everybody was exhausted; even the adventurers who had
been torn out of their slumber time again and again by those inconsiderate aliens who
just had their bacchanal in mind. But now, that finally some opportunity for sleeping had
arrived, Vin Lakes insisted that it actually was time for going, not sleeping. He cautiously
peeked out of his tend and saw no awake sentinels but lots of entirely exhausted but very
happy unconscious aliens.
‘You know what?’ Lakes said to his companions. ‘If that wasn’t our life, if it wasn’t all of it
reality, if that was a story, people would call that deus-ex-machina, meaning god-fromthe-machine. The term has evolved to mean a plot device whereby a seemingly
unsolvable problem is suddenly and abruptly resolved by the contrived and unexpected
intervention of some new event, character, ability or object. Depending on how it is done,
it can be intended to move the story forward when the writer has painted himself into a
corner and sees no other way out. In our case, the Eucalyptol would be considered this
unexpected new object and the author would be called unimaginative, uninspired, and
choosing a cheap way to give his story a new turn’, Vin expounded in detail. ‘If later on we
will tell this to anyone, nobody will believe. I mean, who would want to hear such a story
that sounds so unrealistic and improbable?’ As he looked into the tired faces of his
companions, Vin Lakes understood that he’d talk them into sleep if he said anything more.
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They were just too tired for his high-minded, sophisticated analysis of the improbabilities
of serendipitous fate. What a pity, he thought. Just now he felt like having an entertaining
intellectual conversation. But it wasn’t the right time for it, when thinking about the
circumstances reasonable. ‘Let’s go!’ he said instead. Now, that was something that the
other adventurers loved to hear.
In order not to stretch their luck too far, the four captives crawled out of the shaken
remains of their prison tent on its rear side. Exiting through the entrance would be so
much cooler, especially when walking upright, but the adventurers aim was to survive, not
to be cool. But then, not just one of them thought, if later they were to tell their story to
anyone, they’d claim having walked out of their prison straight-spined; and goosestepping! The much less glorious and more humble fact was, though, that four men deepcrawled through the Modio Kudesh Varanoide camp toward their hoppers. They tried to
keep hidden in the remains of the high grass that had not been trampled down and they
took the visual protection of every other cover that was on their way. The senses of smell
and hearing of the Varanoides were excellent and under normal circumstances the former
captive, now turned fugitive, adventurers would have woken the aliens up. In this hour,
though, the Varanoides were so deeply exhausted and at the same time to intrinsically
happy to the core that they did not mind anything. A huge herd of mighty buffaloes could
have stages a veritable stampede through the Varanoides’ camp without bothering the
happily slumbering aliens; even if the buffaloes came twice or thrice over.
Without further hindrances on their inconvenient way, the four adventurers deep-crawled
to their hoppers. The guards that had been posted to watch over these machines were
gone, too. The four men quickly checked if their machines had been sabotaged. In that
case, they would have been forced to requisition some of the aliens’ vehicles. Fortunately,
that measure of precaution had not been taken. The adventurers swiftly entered their
hopes and exited the planet. Once they had safely reached hyperspace, Vin Lakes
remarked: ‘That gives jingle bells a whole new meaning, does it not’. He alluded to the
zoological meaning of bell for rutting call. And, being glad about the lucky escape from
deadly danger, he started singing the whole song. He sang it several times, being in deed
very glad.
Dashing through the snow in a one-horse open sleigh,
O'er the hills we go, laughing all the way.
Bells on bobtail ring, making spirits bright,
What fun it is to ride and sing a sleighing song tonight.
Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way.
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O, what joy it is to ride in a one-horse open sleigh.
A day or two ago I thought I'd take a ride,
And soon Miss Fannie Bright was seated by my side.
The horse was lean and lank, misfortune seemed his lot,
He got into a drifted bank and we [we, we] got upsot.
A day or two ago, The story I must tell
I went out on the snow, And on my back I fell;
A gent was riding by in a one-horse open sleigh,
He laughed as there I sprawling lie, But quickly drove away.
Now the ground is white, go it while you’re young,
Take the girls tonight and sing this sleighing song.
Just get a bobtailed bay, two-forty for his speed,
Then hitch him to an open sleigh, and crack! You’ll take the lead.
Not very far from the singing Vin Lakes, another group of adventurers was travelling. Their
ultimate destination was planet Tasik Perak. They were led by ben Sommer. On the way,
they wanted to meet certain other adventurers to secure their support and make avail of
their experience. This second group was much larger. They navigated on a hyperspace
streak that was soon to unite with the broad current Vin Lakes led his team along.
When the groups finally met, Vin Lakes felt that he had another reason so sing a song
because he saw his old friends Ben Sommer and Karumir Marudy again. Anyway, being an
experienced adventurer, he did not sing but quickly told the latest news, especially that
about his group’s encounter with the Modio Kudesh Varanoides and their chieftain Seilon
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Boloidumor. Upon learning about this new story, Karumir Mardi and Achesh Akanem
immediately told the others that they expected chieftain Seilon Boloidumor and his tribal
warriors to follow the fugitives once they regained conscience. There were two
possibilities how the fooled Varanoides could react to their prisoners escaping in such an
ingenious way. The first response would avoid all hard feelings and pretend that nothing
ever happened. In that case, from now on, nobody would talk about any prisoners, any
orgy, and any escape. Nothing whatsoever happened at all. But because knowledge was
so wide-spread already as thousands of Modio Kudesh knew about it from their own
experience, this way of acting collided too hard with the whole body of evidence. The
other possibility was to try to catch the fugitives and kill them, so that the disgrace of
getting duped in this ridiculous ways was erased. As Karumir Marudy and Achesh Akanem
were tribal chieftains, too, they understood the way of thinking best, that determined the
actions of Seilon Boloidumor. They were sure that the Modio Kudesh warriors were
violently enraged once they realised who ridiculously they had behaved.
The two chieftains quickly exchanged messages with Ben Sommer and Vin Lakes. Those
four individuals knew the region best. They came up with a plan. The now-combined
adventurers were to separate into two groups again. One was to rush on toward the
Ratare Kutara hyperspace stream. The other group was to drop out of hyperspace, let the
enraged Varanoides pass by and then get behind them. This should lead to the pursuing
Modio Kudesh warriors being trapped in the middle between those two groups within the
Ratare Kutara current. This was a very narrow stream where all hoppers had to pass
through one behind the other; like beads on a rope of pearls. Then, of one group of
adventures used their hoppers to create a massive disturbance one the one side of the
narrow current and the other group of hoppers did that to the first end, the stream would
break down and remain un-usable for about two days at least. It would be a tough time or
the Varanoides who were to persevere in the normal space but given their tough nature,
they should be able to stand it.
The plan contained two critical points. The first issue was how to warn the advance group
that the Modio Kudesh warriors were entering the Ratare Kutara stream. The second issue
was how to conceal the slow group from the pursuers’ attention.
For the one question, an answer was found soon. Vin Lakes and Tom Grand both had
Yamaha W-Max hoppers; some of the fastest and strongest available in the whole galaxy.
They were much faster than all the machines of the Modio Kudesh tribe and the Ratare
Kutara hyperspace stream was solid enough to make avail of these excellent hoppers. The
second question was more of a difficulty. The Modio Kudesh warriors were following the
traces that the four fugitives left. They were to realise that those four joined a great
number of other hoppers all going in the same direction. Last time, when the two villains
Gyldun and Genok had joined the four adventurers, the Modio Kudesh assumed those to
be accomplices. If this time the pursuing enraged Varanoides realised from the traces left
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in the hyperspace stream that four fugitives joined a large number, would they not also
assume that the great multitude was also consisting of accomplices? There was no way of
knowing. It just had to be found out by trying.
Those two questions were considered intensively by Karumir Marudy, Achesh Akanem,
Ben Sommer, and Vin Lakes. As they did not get further on, they called Seb Melch and Ed
Arn for their opinion, too. They had no real solutions either and so the plan was changed.
Warning the advance group of the Modio Kudesh at second thought was much more
difficult than at first anticipated and keeping the disappearance from hyperspace of a
large rear group out of sight of the pursuing warriors was equally unlikely to succeed.
Therefore, a new plan was changed. Achesh Akanem and Karumir Marudy estimated the
advance of the fugitives at about twelve hours. It took eighteen hours to pass the narrow
Ratare Kutara hyperspace current. Just before the diversion to the said Ratare Kutara,
there was a stream known as Makeresayin Laynget. It was an especially broad and
shallow stretch. If just a small number of hoppers dropped out of hyperspace from the
Makeresayin Laynget, the tracks left by the major group were not to change much. By is
shallow and broad nature, the swirls and turbulences left by travellers-by were small and
unclear to read. Therefore, changes were inconspicuous. Thus, a small group of skilled
pilots with the best hoppers was to drop out, take a rest on a near-by inhabitable planet,
then disturb the Ratare Kutara current in eighteen hours and join the main body of the
adventurers by taking loop way. Because excellent pilots with the best hoppers were
chosen, they should have a good chance to make it. The small machines of the Modio
Kudesh were much slower than the hoppers chosen for that mission. This plan was a
gamble but it had a chance to work while the other, earlier version didn’t even work out
in thoughts, when considered closely.
The group to drop out of hyperspace and close the Ratare Kutara stream from the rear
side, once hopefully all the Modio Kudesh were in that narrow stretch, was made up of
Ben Sommer, Vin Lakes, Ed Arn, Kof Sakay, Tom Grand, and Karumir Marudy, who was
one of the few exceptions among the Varanoides as he used a top-notch hopper, too. Two
of remarkable machines of the team were of course those of Tom Grand and Vin Lakes,
who piloted those famous Yamaha W-Max, some of the most powerful hoppers in the
whole galaxy. Ed Arn with his New Triumph Hyper Rocket X had the biggest hopper of the
group but Ben Sommer’s Imperial Galaxy Venture T was fairly huge, too, as was the YM
Morning Sun 2k-B of Kof Sakay. A notable exception among the hoppers was the machine
of Karumir Marudy, who used a Kawasaki YYS-Big.
Those were the big and strong hoppers that were supposed to tear down the Ratare
Kutara hyperspace current in eighteen hours’ time. But for now, they were to wait until
they were allowed to release their power again. The inhabitable planet nearby was called
Isinumi Nipase Awonona by the few individuals who knew his name at all. That, actually,
was a pity because it was a nice and pleasant location. The pilots steered their machines
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to a location where the current temperature was pleasant and where no rain was falling
at the moment. They parked their hoppers under the tall trees and set up their camp. Ed
Arn turned on the alarm system of his Hyper Rocket X to take care of big local animals, in
case there were any of them keen on exotic food or opposing the presence of strangers in
their area.
Eighteen hours passed by; eighteen hours of talking, relaxing, and trying to sleep. The
adventurers all knew that they should sleep because they had a hell of a ride before them.
After blocking the Ratare Kutara stream, they were to take a long loop way to catch up
with the main body of the adventurers again. That would mean one and a half days of
high-speed piloting, following which there most likely were not able to relax either
because they’d still have to keep pace with the group. The pattern of rest and travel for
the majority was not be disturbed lest the whole team was slowed down.
The Ratare Kutara hyperspace stream would recover in about a quarter of an hour if
disturbed at one end. Chieftain Seilon Boloidumor and his Modio Kudesh warriors
probably knew that; and if not, then they most likely would suspect it, because similar
currents behaved like this. The enraged Varanoides were experienced fighter enough to
expect the adventurers to close the Ratare Kutara once they were through. They’d factor
that in. The adventurers’ plan consisted of disturbing the current on both ends, which
would increase the recovery time significantly; two or even three days it might take then.
The real risk consisted in them suspecting another stratagem to be scheduled. In that case,
Seilon Boloidumor might despatch a squadron to go after the rearguard of the
adventurers. Ed Arn’s hopper was the only one with external weapons. In the worst case,
he’d have to defend all his companions against an angry swarm of hornet-like attacking,
armed Varanoide war-path hoppers. Also, the battle might take place on that innocent
planet Isinumi Nipase Avonona. That could happen if the despatched squadron prevented
the rearguard of the adventurers from escaping and thus nailed them down to the ground,
where they’d have to defend themselves against superior alien forces. That all were
unpleasant thoughts and together with the expected hell ride those ideas preoccupied the
thoughts of the friends too much to allow them all the required sleep. Yet, anyone
managed to sleep at least a bit. That was good because any minute of true relaxation was
to make it easier to stand what was to come.
At the end of these eighteen hours, during which luckily nothing bad had happened, the
adventurers of the rearguard were back at the entrance of the Ratare Kutara hyperspace
stream. There were many fresh traces to be spotted and they looked like those typically
left by the small hoppers the Varanoides preferred to use. Judging from those tracks, they
had one by one entered the narrow Ratare Kutara. Now, they were to get a nasty surprise.
The adventurers around Ben Sommer and Achesh Akanem adjusted their hoppers’
dampeners and hyperspace drives to exercise maximum load transmission into the
current. Then, they entered it and purposely bounced around till it broke down. The
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adventurers of the main group, those who had already passed the Ratare Kutara, did the
same at their end. Therefore, both sides of the stream were disturbed and the whole thing
collapsed, effectuating the Modio Kudesh Varanoide warriors travelling in it to be thrown
back into normal space; and keeping them there. With such severe damage done to the
Ratare Kutara, the Varanoides of Chieftain Seilon Boloidumor were to go nowhere. They
were several light days away from even the closest other hyperspace current.
The adventurers of the rearguard, though, who were also thrown back to normal space,
had to cover just a short distance till they reached back to the flat, shallow Makeresayin
Laynget stream. From there, they took a diversion that was to lead them on a loop way all
around the broken-down Ratare Kutara.
Seilon Boloidumor, the chieftain of the Modio Kudesh Varanoides was fuming of anger.
There he was, in the middle of nowhere; but in the centre of all attention, fooled again,
thoroughly. These humans had made a mockery out of him! And his warriors, what did
they say? He better did not ask. The laughter was always on the loser. And he had led
them to become a ridicule; twice. Couldn’t he have thought of the narrow Ratare Kutara
current to be turned into a trap for him and his forces? Yes, he was sure that the fleeing
humans would make the stream collapse once they were through. It would take less than
twenty minutes for it to recover. Such sabotage would give the humans an advantage of
less than twenty minutes, too. He and his experienced warriors with their little, swift
hoppers were to catch up with the fugitives later on, when the hyperspace stream became
so tender and narrow that the humans’ big, heavy machines could not travel fast; or
couldn’t travel there at all. But now, it would take two or three days for the Ratare Kutara
to recover, because these dishonourable fugitive caitiffs had obstructed it on both ends.
Damn it, Seilon Boloidumor thought. How could he not think of it? Well, because he just
did not expect them to dare dropping out, letting him overtake and then fall in his back.
Had he done so, he would be proud of his glorious stratagem. Because others did it to him,
he was mad of rage.
Two days waiting was too long; especially it was too long for anyone stewing in his own
juice; morally speaking. Wasn’t there a bumpy, difficult, very tight, gut-wrenchingly
warped way less than two days away? Seilon Boloidumor checked for points of
orientation. Yes, he remembered having been here before and some old fellow had shown
him this tight hyperspace current. It was too narrow for the big hoppers of humans to
travel through, but for his tribe’s smaller machines, it was a doable stretch. Seilon
Boloidumor remembered that is was no pleasure going along there, even though back
then they just went s short way; only to make him familiar with that stream. This lesson,
his familiarity with the environment he lived in, should not bring him closer to his revenge.
It wasn’t about the question of guilt or innocence anymore. Seilon Boloidumor had lost his
face by letting himself be fooled twice and he to make up for that. Thus, he collected his
warriors, At least those who were reachable; and set off for that tight alternative way.
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This secret path was known as Soro Ganu Ona and it was a near-total secret because it
was so inconvenient.
The Modio Kudesh warriors who had been travelling in single file through the now
temporarily dysfunctional Ratare Kutara stream were mostly spread over quite over many
light days. Only a few were within reach of Chieftain Seilon Boloidumor. Those, he had
assembled while he messaged the next ones, those who were just out of reach and too far
to join him now, where to meet later. Then, the Varanoide tribal chieftain addressed his
forces with a motivational speech, which he broadcast to them via radio communications.
‘The enemies don’t seem to know the Soro Ganu Ona hyperspace stream’, he announced.
‘It is has been a secret of my family for long. Now, we will use this to our advantage’, be
boasted. ‘We will go to the great Kudesh meeting and there recruit all our allies to help us
against the evil-doers who raided our tribe and killed so many of us!’ With these words he
dashed helter-skelter into the entrance of that extremely narrow by-pass. His warriors
followed him.
Seilon Boloidumor and the warriors following him had a very tough time. The Soro Ganu
Ona hyperspace stream was so narrow and so winding that their hoppers bounced around
strongly all the time. They could not get along fast and their bodies were collecting
contusions like a sweating man was attracting mosquito bites in a nightly jungle.
The Modio Kudesh were a sub-tribe of the Kudesh Varanoides. The Kudesh were a great
alliance of many such sub-tribes; which again were composed of clans. Depending on the
precise definition, the Modio Kudesh could also be regarded as a clan rather than a tribe,
because among the sub tribes they were rather small in number. On the other hand, there
were almost too many of them to form a clan. The different Kudesh tribes spoke dialects
that were only slightly different; if one tribe remained on its own for several years it
naturally happened that new words and pronunciations or even new grammatical usages
came up that the others did not share. Anyway, the Modio usually understood each other
well. At times, they had trouble among each other and then they fought each other with
the usual rage of a fratricidal dispute. Against other, though, they were ready to stand
together; even if just a moment ago they wished each other death. In case of a challenge
or provocation from outside, the Kadesh were very quick to form the most cordial entente;
only to be at each other’s throats again once the common enemy was taken care of.
The following two days were a tough time for many individuals. The group around Vin
Lakes rushed along the one loop way and the warriors of Chieftain Seilon Boloidumor
hurried along the other detour. After many long hours of inconvenient travel, both squads
reached their destinations. The team with Ben Sommer and the others who had formed
the rearguard met their main body of their companions again and the tribal Varanoides
reached a planet where a grand meeting of the Kudesh was held.
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Several thousands of Varanoide warriors had set up a camp site on planet named
Wakaminega Nuiotoa. The location they had chosen was surrounded by distant
mountains, held a nice lake and a fresh river feeding the lake one side and draining it on
the other. There were many old trees with majestic crowns standing there, offering shade
in the daytime and protection from views all around the clock. Had the Kudesh Varanoides
not light up many fires, they would have been hard to detect. Their hoppers were covered
by the dense foliage of the towering vegetation and the red-scaled skin of the aliens
wasn’t very flamboyant in the dark shade prevailing at the ground level. The assembled
warriors represented but a fraction of the entire Kudesh tribe. They numbered in the
thousands, still.
When Seilon Boloidumor finally landed there, at the camp ground of his tribe, he was very
much exhausted. Yet, he did not lie down but asked for the place where the chieftains
conferred. Being a chieftain himself, he was led to the location. It was a fireplace on a big
slate of black rock near the lake. The sun had nicely warmed up the rock during the
daytime and now it radiated warmth out like an underfloor heating. On that slate, there
was a ring of stones and dry wood was being piled up for one of the many nightly bonfires.
Four chieftains were already sitting at that place. They had to be chieftains because they
were assembled at the meeting place of the leaders. Other special signs of their elevated
social position they currently did not show. Later on, maybe, they might out on their
deeply read long cloaks with the hoods that kept the head so nicely warm in cold nights.
Those cloaks were a prerogative of chieftains. Like about anything else about the
Varanoides, with the notable exception of their bones and some few other items, those
cloaks were read; at least for humans eyes. As the Varanoides could distinguish clearly
between many shades of red, they could make a difference easily. And with the red-scaled
aliens seeing in the near-infrared, too, more colours were visible to them. For the humans,
though, all this was just red.
Seilon Boloidumor was allowed to join the other chieftains. He was not yet permitted to
talk, though. He was the youngest of the group of leaders and his was the smallest subtribe. He had to wait till he was admitted to the floor. One of the reigning chieftains finally
told Seilon Boloidumor to speak up. For human eyes, there was nothing special about this
one elder to distinguish him from the others, but the Varanoides clearly recognised him to
be the oldest person around. ‘Thank you, Ranugatira Tawukito!’ said the chieftain of the
Modio sub-tribe. Then, he told a storey about what had happened during the past few
days. It was truly a story that he told; no true history at all. In his narration, he looked
good, much better than he had behaved in reality. His enemies, or rather the innocent
people he determined to be his enemies, were much worse than they had really been.
That wasn’t difficult because as a matter of fact, Vin Lakes and his friends had done no
harm to the Modio Kudesh Varanoides; actually they had helped them to the most
eventful nigh of their life. Yet, Seilon Boloidumor was not grateful at all but full of anger.
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At the end of his largely invented story, he asked the other chieftains for help and it was
granted to him. That was neither nice nor wise but it was what those elder leaders did.
With the promise of support that Seilon Boloidumor had now received from the four
other tribal leaders, he set forth to develop his plan. That plan was quickly completed as it
consisted mainly of setting many warriors on the tracks of the fugitives. The simple idea
was to follow them and catch them and anyone who happened to be with them or had
any contact with them. The revenge of the Modio Kudesh shall not spare anyone. The
other Kudesh Varanoide leaders were agitated because of the atrocities committed to
their people and confident that a strong and decisive response, affected in time, was the
best means to prevent such occurrences in the future. The culprits had to be found and
treated accordingly, they felt. Doing it swiftly was the only rational solution, they
concorded. Unfortunately, they couldn’t be bothered to look into the accusations first or
have a civilised criminal investigation. For them, it was all very simple: ‘fight or flight’.
That fighting and fleeing both had their justification only when the other side was the
right enemy to fight or to flee from, did not come to their mind.
Anyway, it was concludes like it was proposed and after a night of celebrations and fierce
war dances, the Kudesh Varanoides needed the next day to sleep. Then, in the evening,
when other people would go to bed, the alien warriors took to their hoppers and started
off for their chase of the villains; and of those innocent folks whom they wrongfully
considered villains.
In the meantime, the adventurers had covered some more distance. But the over-fatigue
of Ben Sommer, Vin Lakes, Ed Arn, Kof Sakay, Tom Grand, and Karumir Marudy warranted
a recovery period for them. Because they had the strongest and fastest hoppers, they
were supposed to catch up later. They could have set their hoppers’ autopilot systems to
follow closely a pre-set leading machine and then slept in their seats. But in hoppers it
wasn’t possible to stretch out and have a really recreative rest. For individuals who were
used to stretch out and have space around them when having a nap, the limited pilot
chamber of a hopper was simply very much insufficient. Before the six adventurers finally
lied down to have their well-deserved, stretched-put nap, Ed Arn went to his customized
New Triumph Hyper Rocket X. He spent a couple of minutes inside, typing something into
the machine’s computer. Then, he took some glass ampullae out and one big bottle. He
walked with it to the leeward side of the camp and exchanged the screw cap against cork
plug that he had cut out of some tree’s bark, attached a very think thread to it and then
fixed the cap it with adhesive tape to the bottle. Despite the distance to the main camp
and the leeward side, some strange smell reached the other adventurers. Some of them
made a few remarks; only Karumir Marudy was already deeply asleep. He had just zonked
out. Ed Arn laid out the small glass ampullae around their camp and put the thin threads
around it, too. Then, before going to his own tent, he set up the one of Karumir Mardi
around him.
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The sun set and the sun rose. The human adventurers woke up after a good, long night of
sleep. They hat set up small tents and slumbered and some had slumbered in sleeping
bags. When the early rays of the morning sun started to shine through the thin fabric of
the little tents and woke up the human adventurers, they realised a strong smell. The
smell wasn’t only strong, it was also pungent; very pungent in deed. Alarmed by the
strange smell and thus curious about how their environment might look like or if there
was anything fishy going on, four of the five human adventurers cautiously opened their
tents and peeped out. They saw deeply asleep Varanoides everywhere. They whole
camping ground was literally littered with red-scaled aliens. Those were all in very deep
slumber; like narcotise. The four adventurers came out of their tents and looked around,
seeing more roosting Varanoides; hundreds of them, anywhere around, between the trees
and on the ground everywhere. There were also many alien hoppers and many pilots of
which often must fallen asleep right after opening their machines to exit. Other aliens still
found the time to lay down between some strong roots of trees.
Karumir Mardi was apparently also still sleeping as from his tent neither movement nor
sound was coming. That Ed Arn was already away could be realised by hearing him
sneezing. Something must have tickled his nose.
‘Come out and see what happened’, the others called their two companions who still
remained in their tents.
‘Will come soon’, Ed Arn replied and then he sneezed again; thrice. ‘Know already what
happened’, he added. ‘And don’t bother to talk to Karumir Mardi’, he advised. ‘Our alien
friend is still resting firmly and cosy in the arms of Morpheus. No use talking to him.’
‘What’s that sharp stench’, the other four awake adventurers wanted to know when Ed
Arn stopped sneezing and came out of his little tent. ‘And what happened?’ they asked
their friend who had just mentioned that he knew it.
‘What you smell is allyl methyl sulphide, an organosulfur compound with the chemical
formula CH2=CHCH2SCH3. The molecule features two functional groups, an allyl, which is
CH2=CHCH2, and a sulphide. It is a colourless liquid with a strong odour characteristic of
alkyl sulphides. It is prepared by the reaction of allyl chloride with sodium hydroxide and
methanethiol’, Ed Arn taught his companions. ‘And what happened is that our Varanoide
friends inhaled it and fell asleep. Allyl methyl sulphide is one of the strongest soporific,
sleep-inducing chemicals; when it comes to Varanoides. On us humans, it obviously has a
very effect; it rather wakes us up’, Ed Arn informed his friends. ‘It’s non-toxic unless
exposure is in macro-quantities; like; you shouldn’t drink of full cup of it or so. It’s
naturally antibiotic against many micro-organisms. When the sun woke me up in the
morning and I smelled the garlic-like aroma, it was clear to me what had happened. I had
secured out camp with several small ampullae of the stuff and one big bottle, with which I
had built a very rudimentary narcotic trap. I wasn’t sure the Varanoides would come but
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in case they intended to follow us further, I wanted to be the one who has the upper hand.
And that upper hand we now have, as we are standing and anyone else is sleeping’ he
explained.
‘Karumir Marudy is also sleeping’, Vin Lakes mentioned.
‘Couldn’t be helped’, Ed Arn replied. ‘Belongs to the same race.’
‘You prepared for this yesterday evening’, Ben Sommer stated more than he asked.
‘Yes’, Ed Arn confirmed. ‘I was fairly sure that the Modio Kudesh Varanoide tribal warriors
would follow us, after all that I have been told about them and the encounter Vin Lakes
and Kof Sakay and their companions had with them. I wasn’t sure, of course, but I
estimated the probability to be high. The allyl methyl sulphide isn’t an expensive
substance. I can get it again at the next semi-civilised world. So, I thought of using it. As it
happened, the stuff save our lives; or at least saved us from a lot of trouble. Had the
aliens not come while we were still deep asleep, but would they come after out departure,
having made these arrangements would provide us with an additional advance of about a
day.’ Ed Arn turned around one, looking in all directions. ‘It worked well, don’t you say?’
Pointing to Karumir Marudy, Ben Sommer replied: ‘It worked effectively.’
‘Given the comparatively small amount and the low price of the stuff and it’s
harmlessness to humans, it worked efficiently, too’, Ed Arn complimented himself on the
skilled use of the allyl methyl sulphide.
‘Thank you!’ Tom Grand interposed.
One by one, everybody else followed his example.
‘You said he’ll sleep for about a day’, Ben Sommer then said, pointing again at Karumir
Marudy.
‘Eighteen to twenty two hours on average, calculated from the end of exposure’, Ed Arn
told what he knew. ‘Then, add three to six hours of drowsiness; adds all up to about one
day. Nausea and vomiting may occur. Other complications like those commonly found in
humans after anaesthesia should not occur due to the different anatomy of the
Varanoides.’
‘We can’t wait till he wakes up’, Vin Lakes stated.
‘We’ll just put him into his hopper and set the autopilot system on following’, suggested
Tom Grand.
‘Then let’s use the communication system as baby phone to supervise his condition’, Kof
Sakay proposed. ‘Vomiting and respiration don’t go together well and if there is a risk that
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he may face involuntary, forceful expulsion of the contents of his stomach through his
mouth or even the nose, we better monitor him so that we can quickly land somewhere
and intervene once it gets tight.’
It was agreed on that and together they brought Karumir Marudy to his hopper, sat him
on the pilot’s chair, buckled his seat belts, and adjusted the autopilot to following.
Then, Ed Arn took night vision googles from his hopper, put then on and looked around,
apparently glancing over the slumbering Varanoides.
‘Ain’t it bright daylight enough?’ Kof Sakay uttered in astonishment. The others also
wondered what that meant.
‘The chieftains will have typical body paint that is visible only in near infrared’, Ed Arn
explained. ‘I would like to find them.’
‘You wanna bind them?’ asked Kof Sakay, who had obviously not woken up fully yet.
‘If I bind them, the warriors will unwind them’, Ed Arn replied. ‘I wanna take them along.’
‘The will know where we are going’, Tom Grand interposed. ’Shouldn’t we better avoid
that?’
‘The Modio Kudesh tribe’s warriors have been following us till here’, Ed Arn stated. ‘This
Seilon Boloidumor had his braves track our trails and try attack us and the group of Vin
Lakes before. They and then we all together escaped with luck; thrice. There is no
guarantee that luck will be on our side again. If we take their chieftains along and the
chieftains’ deputies, too, there is a better chance that they will let us in peace. First, the
Varanoides will hesitate to imperil their leaders. Secondly, they will have a nice little
chaos till they sort out their pecking order again. Once their leaders are gone, they won’t
be able to decide on anything until they have established a new hierarchy. That would be
fun to watch; how they sort that out. It won’t be fun to participate. It will take time and
keep them harmless for us till then. And even once they get their old chieftains and their
deputies back, confusion will continue to some degree because those who have tasted
power will want to hold on to it while the old powers will want to re-gain it entirely and
push the others back again. That should help us, too, because it prolongs their medley.’
‘Oh, yes, here he is, our darling sweetheart Seilon Boloidumor’, Vin Lakes announced.
Kof Sakay came to him and looked at the sleeping not-so-beauty. He nodded. ‘That’s him!’
‘There should be some more chieftains, I guess’, Ed Arn concluded. ‘You folks told me
about two hundred warriors but around here in this forest it looks like there could be
about two or three thousand hoppers; and at least the same number of Varanoides. Just
see how many there are lying around here.’
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‘You counted them already that quickly?’ Tom Grand asked.
‘Extrapolated them’, Ed Arn responded in a very business-like matter-of-fact tone.
‘Could well be’, Ben Sommer supported the estimation. ‘Just look down that line here
between the trees and count them and then look in the three other directions and make
the squares. That alone will be a good thousand.’
‘Then, shall we take their hoppers along?’ Kof Sakay asked.
‘That would make us thieves’, Vin Lakes responded. ‘Till date, we haven’t done them any
harm, except for some headache and hang-over from this allyl methyl sulphide. But then,
we gave them the night of their lifetime. That should more than equal each other out.
Given the rock and roll they made, they probably more than covered out their losses again.
We just need to convince them of the truth that it wasn’t us who assaulted them. If we
now take their hoppers, it will be an indication to the contrary.’
‘But it would be still good to technically make sure they will stay here a little longer’, Ben
Sommer pondered aloud. ‘I’m not so comfortable with relying only on their lack of
leadership and the ensuing chaos if we take their chieftains along.’
‘Then we sabotage their hoppers’, Tom Grand suggested.
‘See how far they are parked’, Vin Lakes said calmly. ‘It would take a lot of time to actually
sabotage them. And we still might not get all of them. They are probably spread over
about forty square kilometres. See, over there, on the side of that hill, the reflection,
that’s not natural, that’s something technical; and it’s about three kilometres away. Gives
a circle with a radius of three, a diameter of six; add some margin and arrive at my
estimation. But what we could easily do is make the Kudesh warriors believe that we had
sabotaged their hoppers. Till they make sure we did not, they’ll remain grounded.’
‘Sounds good’, Vin Lakes agreed. The others also liked the idea. Thus, apart from the still
slumbering befriended Karumir Marudy, another five Varanoide chieftains were carried
into hoppers and the autopilot systems of these machines were set to following as well.
Then, five more aliens, the chieftain’s deputies, were equally found, brought, and stowed
in five more hoppers, which were adjusted the same way, to automatically follow their
leaders. All these Varanoide warriors were bound and secured safely. Attention was given
to their sharp claws that easily cut through ropes. Thus, the ropes used to bind them were
attached out of reach of the aliens’ natural body weapons. Then, a letter was written in
Varanoide script that the five chieftains and their five deputies were taken long as safety
hostages and would be released once the travellers were securely out of reach. A warning
was added that the aliens’ hoppers were all sabotaged with a dangerous computer
malware and that therefore it wasn’t at all safe to use them. All that took some time
because those old Varanoides were all of them big and heavy. For a fully grown alien of
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this race, a height of three meters was not very rare; coming along with a weight of more
than two hundred kilogram. Those bulky creatures were thus not easy to handle; literally.
‘Let’s have a rest’, Kof Sakay joked when all preparations were finally completed;
including some superficial manipulations at a few hoppers to indicate the feigned
sabotage. Actually planting some malware into those aliens’ machines would have been a
time-consuming effort with limited chances of success, because those devices were
furnished with a ferocious computer immunity system. They were very difficult to hack
and none of the adventurers was a good hacker either. ‘OK, let’s go’, Kof Sakay
summoned everyone after seeing their faces upon his mentioning of the word rest. That
invite wouldn’t have been necessary as all the adventurers who were not deeply sleeping
were already going to their hoppers. Soon later, they took off, with the captive Varanoide
machines trailing behind them.
The group of travellers around Ben Sommer and Vin Lakes had to ride a long time till they
caught up with the main body of the adventurers. Once they finally met, they again were
at a sleep deficit. Because they had taken the Varanoide chieftains and deputies along,
they could not move as fast as they would have advanced had they been alone. Two
reasons were responsible for that reduced speed. First, the hoppers of the tribal Kudesh
aliens were not as strong and fast as those of the befriended adventurers. Secondly, when
a machine was tracings another one’s motions with its autopilot system turned on
following, the leading vehicle could usually not rush as full speed lest it may lose the
trailing machine.
When those two groups finally met, lots of information was to be exchanged. The major
body of the travellers did not experience any big adventure but of course they were
curious to know of the stratagem had worked out well. They were pleased to hear that it
did but aghast to learn that the warriors of Seilon Boloidumor had almost succeeded in
catching the members of the brave rearguard. Then, big laughter followed when the
majority learned how the minority had escaped.
In the meantime, Karumir Marudy also woke up. At first, he was still very drowsy; the
customary aftermath of anaesthesia. Then, he re-gained his conscience more and more.
His ability to feel and then his capability to speak arrived earlier than his self-composure.
He complained of nausea and terrible headache; as if a football was in his belly and
wanted out and his head was a similar ball being pumped up ever harder while at the
same time chimed with every heartbeat like a bell by its violently thrust clapper. Karumir
Marudy did not vomit but the gush of abusive terms that came out of his mouth was
equally acidic, even vitriolic. Because the communication system was used like a baby
phone, all the other travellers got to hear all the foul words. To his excuse it must be
admitted that Karumir felt foul, if not rotten, too.
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In order not to lose yet one more day, it was determined that at least once or twice,
sleeping should take place in the hoppers, with the machines running at autopilot and
following the others. That way, the travellers could rest in turns and the whole group
should safe some time. The leaders of the group calculated that despite the somewhat
lower maximum speed of such convoy-type conveyance, they could cover the total
distance faster. Nobody was happy about the inconvenience but everybody accepted it.
After some time, the trek of the adventurers reached the mighty Sonuguday Mausac
hyperspace stream. Their way led them along this grand current for about one hour.
Actually, it was more of a crossing then travelling along. They went with the drift and
covered a great distance in a short time but their primary purpose was to get to the other
side.
In the meantime, Karumir Marudy had recovered fully again. That was good because he
was needed now. On this route, he was the one to know best which ways to take. Ben
Sommer and Seb Melch were acquainted with other paths to planet Tasik Perak, but the
one the adventurers had chosen to take now, was familiar only to Karumir Marudy.
Luckily, the alien chieftain of the Cuhutis Imutay tribe was not resentful. Once fully back
to his senses, he understood what had happened and why. He had complained about
some advance warning, mentioned the possibility of gas mask or sleeping in his hopper,
but only once. He knew himself that sleeping with a gas mask on his face or cramped in his
hopper were not convenient either. He’d have slept less and woken up with aching joints
and spine. Sleeping in the machines now during their accelerated march was more than
enough; for that matter.
With amazing certainty, Karumir Marudy led the trek of the adventurers across the
extensive Sonuguday Imutay stream. That current was broad and deep and the hoppers
therefore left hardly any traces. Among the huge dimensional forces, the tiny swirls and
turbulences that these little machines caused easily blurred into obliteration within
seconds. Karumir Marudy brought the travellers to the mouth of a smaller current, which
united with the mighty Sonuguday Imutay stream. Into this smaller current, they had to
enter and then follow it for some more time; a couple of hours, depending on the
condition of that pathway. Karumir Marudy had told his companions that this smaller
current was subjected to significant temporal fluctuations in its width and load-bearing
capacity and that he therefore could not know well in advance, how fast the trek of
hoppers could get on. The name of that little stream was Kekere Enucane Alaye, the
Varanoide chieftain of the Cuhutis Imutay tribe told his companions. They travellers were
lucky and the small current was decently broad and deep enough and capable of bearing
the load of those many hoppers at an elevated pace. Up to five machines could travel side
by side with each other; no need for going in single file.
The adventurers were just a few minutes into that Kekere Enucane Alaye hyperspace
stream, when Karumir Marudy, who was still leading the trek, signalled to his companions
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that he realised traces of earlier passers-by. ‘They had bigger hoppers than our Varanoides
typically use’, he stated. ‘Therefore, they were probably humans’, he concluded. The
Aduhika also preferred bigger machines than the red-scaled aliens. There were very few of
the Olives around here in this vicinity of the galaxy, though. Thus, Karumir Marudy
assessed the traces to be those of humans piloting along this way.
Since the chieftain of the Cuhutis Imutay Varanoides discovered the traces of recent
passers-by, Achesh Akanem had joined him at the leading position. Ben Sommer and Vin
Lakes were close behind them. Those two humans were also very experienced in tracing
hoppers passing along hyperspace currents. The red-scaled aliens were still slightly better,
as their senses were sharper. All of them agreed, though, that the tracks were left by
human pilots. Given the remote location and low population density in the region, they
also concorded that there was a high probability those traces were left by Lom Claybrinck
and his gang. It was known that these bandits wanted to reach planet Tasik Perak, too.
How they might have learned about this rarely-frequented route, was a puzzle. To solve
this riddle was of low importance now, given the much more important question of how
to cope with the villains; if they in deed were the gang of Lom Claybrinck. The Varanoides
estimated the number of hoppers that had passed along the Kekere Enucane Alaye
hyperspace stream at about forty. The adventurers counted many more now, especially
because aliens from the tribe of Achesh Akanem had joined them. Still, any confrontation
with the supposed gangsters could be fatal for at least some of the adventurers. Therefore,
it was important not to run into any trap. It was decided that an advance guard should
clear the way of any ambush that the villains main have laid. From the progress of
attenuation that the swirls and turbulences caused by the previous passers-by, the two
Varanoides estimated them to have an advance of about a quarter of a day.
From now on, the adventurers had to be double as cautious because they found
themselves between two formidable foes. They assumed that the Modio Kudesh were still
following them, though probably with a large time lag and despite their chieftains and
deputies being held captive; or maybe because of that. Now, to that danger in the back,
another threat in front was added. The group needed an advance guard to check and if
need be clear the way and a rear guard to prevent being rolled up from the back. They
were facing conflicting objectives. To escape from those foes pursuing them, they’d have
to be fast. To avoid running into an ambuscade by the villains in front of them, they had to
move cautiously; and that excluded maximum speed.
Not just a few of the adventurers had a bill to settle with Lom Claybrinck. Therefore, they
were keen to pursue him at elevated speed. Yet, their more experienced companions held
them back. The gangsters also knew that others were on the way to Tasik Perak. Those
were either in front or behind them. Claybrinck could not know if others were to take the
same route but he certainly included the probability into his calculations. Several times,
the designs of that gangster boss had not worked out because of chance. Such good luck
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was nothing to rely on. Experience had shown that Claybrinck was better not
underestimated. When the villain was sober, he could think very clearly and come up with
diabolic schemes.
Because the hopper of Ed Arn was the only one with external weapons, Ed was asked to
keep close to the Sherbetor family. They were the least experienced of all the travellers
and at the same time the engineer was one of the most important members of the whole
expedition. He was the one to estimate the technical feasibility of precious metals’ mining
on planet Tasik Perak. Thus, he should reach there safely and remain protected once the
destination was reached.
After some time, the two Varanoide tribal chieftains leading the trek came up with an
idea. They had discussed it quickly among themselves and now told Vin Lakes and Ben
Sommer about it. ‘The group that travelled here before us has left very noticeable traces.
We can detect and follow them. We will also leave traces. We are about six hours later
then our forerunners. If those Kudesh warriors pursuing us follow with a greater time
difference, say a day, or even two, they might still recognize the tracks but won’t be able
to distinguish them accurately anymore. There is another way to Tasik Perak. It departs
from a junction where we can manage to leave very few and weak traces that will efface
soon. If we’re cautious and also lucky, those Kudesh warriors likely pursuing us will follow
the tracks of those bandits instead of ours. If we take this other route, we’d not be in
between two hostile groups anymore.’
Ben Sommer and Vin Lakes agreed. Soon, the place came where the other current
departed. It would later unite with the main way again. Till then, it should provide
welcome relieve from the double threat of foes in the back and at the front. Just before
the junction, the Kekere Enucane Alaye hyperspace stream broadened and became very
smooth. All the pilots of the trek slowed down to sneaking speed. As they were in
hyperspace, they still covered a greater distance than the light in normal space at the
same time, yet for their environment, they were going very slow. At all hoppers where
this was possible, the dampers and shock absorbers were adjusted to maximal softness.
With these measures, the load transmission from the moving hoppers into the hyperspace
current was minimized. Slowly and carefully, the adventures took the turn and moved into
the departing stream. It was much narrower than the broader and deeper Kekere Enucane
Alaye and the travellers had again to fly in single file, one behind the other.
‘The name of this pass-way is Dinikoko Sofona’, the Varanoide tribal chieftains informed
their companions. It was astonishing that there was a name for even the smallest
hyperspace routes that only a handful of individuals knew at all; or maybe just one or two.
As travelling in this narrow Dinikoko Sofona current was at times calm and eventless, the
leadership team could muse at the Kudesh and their mad hunt after them. The Kudesh
warriors were known to have some meeting places in the vicinity. The Modio sub-tribe
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certainly had sent messengers and asked their kin to support them. Given the bellicose
nature of the Kudesh and the fact that really big injury had been done to them, combined
with the attitude of strong social cohesion, it was likely the other warriors would join their
brethren. That the adventurers had nothing to do with the whole issue and that actually
Lom Claybrinck was at fault, at least indirectly, did not matter.
It was this a case of external effects, also called externalities. An externality was the cost
or benefit that affected a party who did not choose to incur that cost or benefit. Lom
Claybrinck had not decided to rob those Modio Kudesh tribals. He only had collected the
desperados and grouped them together and then separated their teams again to different
route columns. The one Claybrinck had appointed Gyldun and Genok to lead, then raided
the Modio Varanoides. For those tribals it had been an externality to get assaulted and for
the gangster boss it was an externality that now the Kudesh were mad at all the humans
in the region.
When six hours ago Lom Claybrinck had travelled along the Kekere Enucane Alaye stream,
he was feeling mixed emotions. On the one hand, he was confident that he finally was
reaching his aim. He and his forty robbers were approaching planet Tasik Perak where
great riches awaited them. On the other hand, he had only those forty men with him.
Those were all that had survived the tribulations and hazards that waited for them at so
many places. Actually, the trouble did not just wait for them, if followed them. The galaxy
was so big and still they would come across former victims here and there. How was that
possible? The idea behind being a robber in outer space, in the uncivilised, free areas of
the galaxy centred on the famous hit-and-run thesis. As a strategist, Claybrinck
understood that concept very well. Keep moving was the translation into a practicable
method. Take what you want and then move on so that you won’t get caught. Maybe it
was him, Claybrinck reckoned on some few self-critical moments, who was conjuring up
the risk by returning to places. But then, in order to take what he wanted, he had to know
about it first. If he learned about some beautiful bounty that was ready for pickup, but
was too weak to loot it alone, he needed to collect accomplices to get it, did he not? Being
foreseeable was creating an increased level of danger but acting consistently at random
would result only in accidental success. Planning was required but planning involved
reason and thus the risk of being predictable, if others knew motivations and aims. The
motivation of the bandits was clear to anyone: rob as much as they can as easily as they
can. The aim, in this case, was the treasures waiting for them at planet Tasik Perak. Should
he have let them go? Lom Claybrinck was greedy to lay his hands on those coveted
treasures but somewhere in the back of his mind, a little doubt was haunting him. Should
he have made up a different plan? Should he have let the adventurers get the treasures
and then collect the precious findings out of their hands?
Forty men were still with Lom Claybrinck and these were the toughest and most
intelligent; and most lucky, too. Many desperadoes had succumbed on the way to fatal
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accidents or simply to ordinary stupidities. Some did not maintain their hoppers well.
Some rode faster than was good for them and crashed into one another or got ejected
from hyperspace at inconvenient locations. Some over-estimated the speed with which a
certain curve in a certain current could be taken. Some fought amongst each other. Some
contracted diseases. They might still look well once entering their hoppers but at the next
break, it became apparent that the hoppers autopilot was chauffeuring a dead body.
These illnesses resulted to a good deal from those desperados not taking care of hygiene
or just stuffing things in their mouth, taking drugs, and so on. But Claybrinck wasn’t a
nanny and the gangsters didn’t feel like allowing anyone to take up the role of their
nursemaid either. This resulted in the large number of fatalities.
Then, of course, different encounters with Varanoides and humans of different kinds had
cost some lives; on both sides. As bandits, Lom Claybrinck and his comrades were used to
take whatever they wanted. They did not get it without resistance all the time, though.
Because they needed provisions and equipment but did not buy enough of both, they had
to rob these necessities. At least that was their logic. Honourable persons would have
renounced their need if they could not afford to saturate their requirements honestly by
purchasing the goods. Not so the gangsters. But then, they ultimately also paid; just in
blood instead of hard coin. The biggest drain on Claybrinck’s people was the Varanoides’
revenge. For the gangster boss’ opinion, that region here was littered with those tribals.
Usually, Varanoides and humans could get along quite well, if they both respected each
other. That wasn’t always easy for both sides, but it was achievable. Claybrinck had never
really wanted to commit himself to understanding the red-scaled aliens’ culture and
habits better. He had some superficial knowledge of them and his prejudiced stances
prevented him from going any deeper. Now, when he looked at the little number of just
forty bandits who were left over, the gangster boss was somewhat sorry that he
underestimated how keen the Varanoide tribals were on revenge if they had been injured
or even just insulted. An insult anyway meant to them about as much as an injury. It made
them mad and let them follow the perpetrator far longer than humans would. Maybe he
should in future operate in areas where there were more Aduhika, Claybrinck thought.
The Aduhika were less easily excited. Perhaps the red colour of the Varanoides already
gave a hint, the gangster boss considered.
Anyway, the gangster boss and his bandits were coming closer to the location where an
abundance of wealth was waiting for them. The rumours had it that some early civilisation
had spent centuries mining precious metals there in Tasik Perak and then dug it all again;
the whole stuff they just hid and then left. This cornucopia of abundance Claybrinck
wanted to obtain to further on life a life of plentiful luxuriousness. In that respect, it was
good to have just enough men for the task. Any single person too much just meant a
smaller share for anyone, especially for himself. He could not know how many men were
needed to collect the treasure but he hoped with confidence that his forty robbers should
be just enough.
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Had Lom Claybrinck know what he was up to, he would have worried much more. He was
approaching an area where Varanoide warriors of the wild, fierce, ferocious Kudesh tribe
usually held meetings. He had the Modio sub-tribe of the Kudesh Varanoides behind him,
too. That was no enviable position. But Claybrinck just didn’t know that. Because of that
lack of awareness, he was fairly careless.
The adventurers who were led by the two alien tribal chieftains Achesh Akanem and
Karumir Marudy were feeling much less happy-go-lucky but their actual situation was
much better. Because they were aware of their situation and the circumstances
influencing it, they could at least try to avoid trouble. Actually, they could even try to use
those different troublemakers against each other. By having taken the diversion into the
small Dinikoko Sofona stream, the adventurers did exactly that. Not only did they bring
themselves out of the thorny embrace of two foes, but they even made the way free for
those foes to encounter each other directly; without any peaceful travellers between
them.
Despite being already quite narrow, the Dinikoko Sofona hyperspace current still split up
here and there and branches out into even smaller streams that later on would ramify
further. Along the mainstream, the hoppers of the adventurers could all move, as long as
they remained in single file order. Only the small machines preferred by the Varanoides
could fit through the branched-off little streams. Devices that could take an individual
through the very smallest of the pathways were not among those the travellers of that
trek possessed. Despite the Varanoides’ preference for small hoppers, such tiny machines
as would be required to ride through the very narrow currents were hardly to be found in
the free areas of the galaxy. As the adventurers anyway had to stay with the Dinikoko
Sofona stream to reach their destination, there was neither occasion nor reason to
venture in any of the ways diverting from the main stream.
It was getting time for another break. The captive Varanoides had to be given water; they
were constrained with solid ropes and could not drink by themselves. Even though their
race was famous for staying alive long without drinking, nobody wanted to torture them
or expose them to any undue risk. The adventurers all needed to stretch their limbs; eat
and sleep. Karumir Marudy knew a suitable planet nearby. The name of that world was
Kanach Hacheli Arotavar, the chieftain of the Cuhutis Imutay Varanoides told his
companions. Nobody else every heard that name before. Karumir Marudy brought the
trek to a lush, green pasture in the middle of protective mountains. There was hardly any
wind, the temperature was ambient, there was no imminent rainfall to be expected, and a
nice freshwater creek ran through the pasture. The red-scaled tribal chieftain declared
that the water of that rivulet was unobjectionable for consumption by both races. He also
notified that there were no aggressive predators living in this place. There were big
carnivores on planet Kanach Hacheli Arotavar but they were shy and at this season
already full; not hungry anymore. Still, guards were posted. Some sentinels were also
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posted on the surrounding hills to avoid being surprised by either the bandits of Lom
Claybrinck or the wild warriors of Seilon Boloidumor. Even the captive chieftains and
deputies were awarded with the favour of being lifted out of their hoppers and laid flat on
the ground. They could stretch their limbs; were given water and also some food. Then,
small tents were set up to protect against the col and dampness of the night. Every human
adventurer usually had at least one such small tent stored in his hopper. Some people also
carried two or three of them, just to make sure. They were light-weight and did not take
much space.
A couple of hours of beneficial rest followed. The guards were rotated every hour, to that
they could also sleep. Of course, those hoppers that had functional alarm systems had
these turned on. Fortunately, nothing bad happened during the nightly rest.
How useful it had been to set up sentinels became apparent at the next morning. Just
with the advent of that beautiful planet’s sun, sending her first rays of the day across the
serrated horizon, a couple of small hoppers approached. It was actually a couple, because
there were two of them only. Most of the adventurers had parked their own machines
either under the few free-standing trees on that pasture where the camp site was or just
near the edge of the forest that was surrounding the meadow. As the grassland itself had
some hollows, too, some travellers had left their hoppers in those natural depressions and
covered them with camouflage nets. With the grass itself being high enough to tower
above most of the small tents, the camp site was far from conspicuous. When the
adventurers had left the Dinikoko Sofona hyperspace stream and approached this site on
planet Kanach Hacheli Arotavar, they had not directly descended but flown a bit to the
east. Thus, anyone following their tracks was to arrive on that world in the west of the
camp site. Being in the west of the camp site meant looking toward the east, when
searching for it. As the sun, like any other sun anywhere, rose in the east, because that
was the definition of that direction, it shone into the eyes of those two scouts. Having that
light shining right into their eyes and with the camp site decently camouflaged, the two
pilots saw nothing.
The sentinels whom the adventurers had posed saw the two approaching hoppers long
before those came even close to the camp site. The guards were posted on the mountains
surrounding the resting place and the approaching machines were flamboyantly
illuminated by the early morning sun. Those hoppers did not belong to the adventurers.
They did not issue any friendly identifier. There were three possibilities as to whom these
machines belonged to. They were part of the bandits group or they were scouts of the
Kudesh tribe or else they could be entirely innocent Individuals who had nothing to do
with all this. The last probability was different from zero but still very close to it. The
guards had to take a decision. Their obligation was to defend the camp ground. There
were several hundred of their companions, Varanoides and humans alike, staying down
there, which relied on being protected by those sentinels. The unknown flying objects
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approach quickly and the time for consideration was running out. A decision was taken
and the guards on the mountains shot the incoming hoppers down. That wasn’t nice;
given the fact that they could not be identified doubtlessly and that they had not entered
into any aggression. Yet, given the situation and the probabilities involved, this preemptive strike was practically compulsory. Even a saint might have done the same
because there were no only the lives of the sentinels but hundreds of lives of all their
companions at stake.
After that incident, the travel soon continued. All the experienced adventurers agreed
that those two hoppers must have belonged to scouts. They had not followed any traces
left by the long trek but they had reconnoitred. They would be missed by the main body
of their group at the end of their regular mission time. That could still be many hours in
the future. And even once the main group was starting to miss their scouts, they would
not know where to look for them.
Just to make sure that no innocent people had been killed, Ed Arn and Seb Melch quickly
wanted to have a look at the shot-down machines. Seb Melch was a criminalist and Ed Arn
gave the impression of having served long years in the military of some big state. Both
gentlemen were good at judging dangers. When they approached the downed hoppers,
they immediately saw that one of them contained any dead body. Therefore, it was likely
that the pilots were still live, roaming around in the forests of planet Dinikoko Sofona;
maybe even pointing with rifles at the machines carrying Seb Melch and Ed Arn. Thus, the
two gentlemen immediately returned to join the main group and hurried the others to get
on.
The adventurers moved up to the bright morning sky. It was almost a pity having to leave
such a beautiful planet alone again but then, great treasures awaited anyone on Tasik
Perak.
Again, the two Varanoide tribal chieftains led the trek through narrow hyperspace
streams where the hoppers had to travel in single file order; always one behind the other.
Never were the streams broad enough for two machines to fly side by side. To the pilots it
seems as if the current was getting ever weaker. It kind of became ever fainter, the
further the adventurers got.
‘We will soon reach a molecular cloud where the hyperspace streams can’t prevail’, Ben
Sommer messages to everybody in the trek. ‘We will have to cover some distance through
normal space.’
The adventurers were not used to travelling long stretched through the normal space.
When piloting their hoppers along narrow hyperspace currents, there as a lot of action.
There were curves and waves and bumps and warping. In normal space, there was
nothing like that. All was calm, all was quiet, nothing shook and nothing vibrated. They
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were just gliding along. It was boring. In order to avoid unwanted attention, they could
not even chat because using the radio would warn anyone in a wide surrounding of their
presence. They were to travel about fourteen to sixteen hours till they could enter the
hyperspace again. After returning to the fast-track currents in the superposed dimension,
they’d still have to travel a couple of hours more till they were scheduled to reach their
next resting place.
This next resting place was to be a planet known as Lemuba Rusa; known to the few who
roamed around in this usually lonely part of the galaxy. Lemuba Rusa was accessible via
two decently broad hyperspace streams. Three to five hoppers could fly next to each
other, deepening on the skills of the pilots and the softness of the dampers and shock
absorbers. Ben Sommer and Karumir Marudy, who both knew the planet from previous
visits, informed their companions about the next destination, once all were back to
hyperspace. They also told that Lemuba Rusa was within a region of the galaxy where the
Kudesh tribe Varanoides sometimes came. They weren’t quite frequently here but they
had to be factored in. And now, because of the trouble the Kudesh had with Claybrinck’s
gangsters and with humans in general, they posed a risk greater than usual. There had
anyway been rumours that the Kudesh were holding several tribal gatherings in that
region. Thus, an encounter with a large number of these red-scaled alien warriors wasn’t
to be ruled out.
When the adventurers came close to planet Lemuba Rusa, this apprehension materialised.
There were lots of tracks to be found in the hyperspace stream leading to this world.
Karumir Marudy and Ben Sommer, who knew the place, now had taken over the lead. Of
course, with his excellently sharp senses, it was the chieftain of the Cuhutis Imutay
Varanoides who discovered the traces of previous travellers first. They had gone quite fast,
without taking care not to leave tracks behind. More than thousand hoppers might have
passed through this current, Karumir Marudy estimated. He messaged his companions to
slow down to snail speed and adjust the shock absorbers to maximal softness. The
hyperspace currents around planet Lemuba Rusa had the speciality of being very strong
and robust. They were narrow; even at the broadest stretches never more than five big or
six small hoppers could cruise side by side. Along most of the distances, the width was
sufficient for two or three only. Yet, despite being so slim, those streams were very solid.
They could take a lot of load and were not easy to stir and agitate. If hoppers passed along
very slowly and with the dampers at maximum softness, even a large trek could get
through here without leaving many traces. That was especially the case because the
previous users of that current had rumbled along like a stampede of hooved mining robots;
if such an event ever happened.
Apart from the two main access ways to planet Lemuba Rusa, Karumir Marudy and Ben
Sommer knew a third one. They had discovered it at the event of their last visit when it
came handy. Had they not found it, they would not have remained around to collect all
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those other adventurers and lead them back here again. But they did discover it and it
came handy again. They found where it deviated from the other current and again
everybody had to go along in single file, because it was yet one more of these very narrow,
just wide enough hyperspace streams through which the travellers’ hoppers had to be
shoehorned.
‘With so many Kudesh warriors around, do we have to get down to Lemuba Rusa at all?’
Ed Arn messaged to Ben Sommer.
‘There is only one way known to us that leads from here onward to Tasik Perak’, Ben
replied. ‘The entrance to which may be guarded by the Kudesh.’
Ed Arn had understood that already when he heard about the single path leading further.
It had to be checked if the trek could access it freely and if not, any hindrance to free
ascent into hyperspace had to be removed. This removal might turn out to be his task,
because his New Triumph Hyper Rocket X was the only machine of all the adventurers in
the whole trek that carried external weapons.
Slowly, the trek found its way along the narrow but almost rock-solid hyperspace stream.
Finally, the adventurers reached the vicinity of planet Lemuba Rusa, where the current
ended. The last distance had to be covered in normal space. Karumir Marudy and Ben
Sommer knew where the main hyperspace streams leading to this world ended and they
were familiar with the best locations for setting up camps. They expected the tribal
warriors of the Kudesh Varanoides to have chosen one of the best and most suitable camp
sites. Therefore, they led the trek of adventurers to some other place. This other place
was a huge cavern with a comparatively easy to overlook entrance. The sinkhole was
similar to the famous cenotes on planet Earth. It was surrounded by exuberant tropicaltype vegetation. The entrance was large enough for several hoppers to pass through at
the same time, side by side. Yet, gigantic rain-forest trees stood around it and spread their
branches so far out and over the sinkhole, that it was fairly well camouflaged. The
adventurers had to approach the cenote carefully, wind their way through the strong,
thick branches of the titanic tropical-type trees. Then, they landed inside the huge cavern.
In the middle of the cenote, there was a pond; almost perfectly round and so deep that
the bottom wasn’t to be seen, despite the water being crystal clear.
Here, in this cenote, the majority of the adventurers were to wait and rest. Like always
under insecure circumstances, guards were positions near the entrance of the cavern. The
travellers were advised to preferably use night vision devices instead of turning on the
lights of their hoppers. Even torch lights were better not used. The Cenote was a nice
hideout but it could also become an ugly trap, if the adventurers were discovered and
surprised by the Kudesh warriors; or by the gangsters, for that matter.
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Ben Sommer, Achesh Akanem, Vin Lakes, and Karumir Marudy wanted to go out for
reconnaissance. Seb Melch and Ed Arn should remain at the cenote and serves as leaders
for the other adventurers. Those two gentlemen were considered the most experienced
for this task. The fulfilled their task well and soon organised the sentinels and the
proceedings inside the camp; especially those pertaining to safety and security. Tom
Grand and the old Lentbender helped with the maintenance of order on the side of the
humans while two Varanoide deputies took care of the aliens’ adherence to the rules.
Those requirements concerned mainly activities like the adherence to radio silence, nonuse of lights and instead reliance on night-vision devices, avoidance of flying around
unnecessarily, use of the lake in the middle of the cenote and more such administrational
tasks.
In the meantime, the four adventurers experienced with scouting in that region of the
galaxy left the cavern where their companions rested and tried to locate the other camps
on this planet. There might be other humans here on Lemuba Rusa and there probably
were Kudesh Varanoides present, too. Ben Sommer and Karumir Marudy, who knew this
world, already guessed where those camps could be. There were a number of convenient
sites and they were to look at one after the other.
At it so happened, the first such location turned out to be a hit right into bull’s eye. When
Ben Sommer, Achesh Akanem, Vin Lakes, and Karumir Marudy approached the first
coordinates on their list, they already realised that somebody was around long before the
fellow even came within the visibility range. Radio silence was obviously nothing that
appealed to anyone. Several hundred kilometres before the place, the scouting
adventurers were already exposed to a cacophony of Varanoide wireless messages;
especially voice signals but also lots of data traffic. The four scouts continued in lowaltitude flight to remain below the radar and also out of visibility; ultimately meandering
between the mighty trunks of tall and broad tropical trees. Then, they finally parked their
hoppers, when they came too close to the foreign camp site to continue flying. They
exited their machines and marched on by foot. They wore camouflage dress and carried
night-vision equipment, powerful binoculars, parabolic microphones and more such useful
devices. And of course, they had weapons, too.
The camp site that was to be reconnoitred lay in a huge, deep circular valley. The diameter
of that depression was about five to six kilometres and the depth was more than three
hundred meters. Ben Sommer, Achesh Akanem, Vin Lakes, and Karumir Marudy lay at the
rim of the steeply descending wall of rock and peered down with their night-vision
binoculars. They saw fog. The climate was tropical and they were in a rain forest. Clouds
and fog were natural addenda to that; actually, they belonged here as part of the
definition. To continue the reconnaissance, there was no way but finding a way down.
Taking a hopper for that matter would have been the easiest solution but also the
attempt of descendance with the lowest stealthiness factor. They decided it was better
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trying to find a way down that could be covered on foot. To discover that descend faster,
they split into two groups; one going right, the other one turning left. They determined to
be back in one hour time at the same place. If any of them had found the way down,
they’d take it. If not, they’d think of a different solution.
When Ben Sommer and Achesh Akanem came back to the meeting point, Vin Lakes and
Karumir Marudy were already waiting for them. They had discovered a path just a few
minutes after departing. They led the other two adventurers to the beginning of the way
down. The path was very steep. It was a kind of crevice along the flak of the mighty wall of
rock that surrounded the geological depression. The four scouts entered this fissure and
followed it all the way down to the lower end of the cliffs. There, when the formerly steep
ground became almost horizontal again, the cleft opened to form a kind of ceiling-less hall.
Then, it narrowed again to form one last tight split. That passage was just broad enough
for a fully grown Varanoide to pass through. Climbing plants and other greenery covered
that narrow outlet.
One by one, each of the four adventurers looked through that curtain of foliage. They
looked through a window in the rocky wall of the valley’s kettle that offered a view onto a
dense forest. As it was already dark night, no colours could be spotted by the humans as
these used night-vision devices. The Varanoides anyway had different eyes and their
visual sensations weren’t to be described properly to anyone not member of that race.
After all of the four scouts had looked through that natural window and gained in
impression of what lay before them, the one by one passed through. Behind that hole in
the wall, they had to climb over some big boulders till they reached the flat ground on
which the jungle grew.
Cautiously, the adventurers moved into the foggy, dark jungle. At first, they just
penetrated ever deeper into the rainforest. The crowns of the trees were very dense but
on the ground there wasn’t so much vegetation. Big buttress roots, one of them tall and
broad like a medium-size tree on other worlds were the greatest hindrance to
advancement. Those very same buttress roots offered great coverage, too, in case hiding
was required. The ground itself was thickly covered with rotting leaves. It was difficult to
see what was below that slippery layer of organically decomposing material. Were the
slick stones or mud paddles? Was there even quicksand or were there dangerous animals;
maybe poisonous snake-type creatures? Nobody could really know.
After some time, the tribal chieftains Achesh Akanem and Karumir Marudy reported
smelling something. The Varanoides had a fantastic olfactory sense; it was hundreds of
times better than the human nose. The red-scaled aliens could even layer scents; like dogs.
They smelled each component of a scent individually and they had a great memory for
them. Here, they smelled other Varanoides. Both human adventurers wanted to know if
there was a danger in that because the other Varanoides could then also smell those two
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here. Achesh Akanem and Karumir Marudy concordantly responded that there should be
no problem at all for the moment. According to the scent, there must be a great multitude
of Varanoides around here and two more would not matter much. The humans were the
bigger issue, especially their body odour. Luckily, Vin Lakes and Ben Sommer had taken a
quick bath in that lake that was in the middle of the cavern where the other adventurers
rested. Their camouflage dress and body wear, boots and all, contained antimicrobial
sources of copper ions, preventing bacteria from turning sweat into stink. Still, they were
issuing some scent but it was comparatively little at the moment and still well-covered by
the smells of the jungle. At least that was what their two Varanoide companions told
them.
Following the flavour of the thousands of red-scales aliens that must be in that jungle, the
adventurers went ever further. Ben Sommer remembered that there was a lake in the
middle of that depression. Once he had flown over it. The lake was making up about a
fourth or even a third of the total surface. That well he did not remember anymore. The
Kudesh Varanoides were probably camping around it. These red-scaled aliens liked water
bodies. They could stand many days without drinking fresh water; they could even survive
on mildly salty water as their bodies had special glands excreting a highly enriched salty
solution, but they preferred water to be near to them. And in deed, the surrounding of the
central lake was where the adventurers found the camp ground of the Kudesh warriors.
The Varanoides resting around the shore felt very save. That had set up big fires, perhaps
to help against the local insect-type vermin or generally to keep all unwanted creatures
away. And then, of course, Varanoides liked the warmth. They could roast on dark slates
of stone for hours on end and feel very happy all along.
The Kudesh warriors stayed well clear of the geological depression’s walls with their
temporary abodes. Perhaps they did not trust the cliffs to be solid; and not crumbling.
That from time to time a piece of rock could loosen and fall down was evidenced by those
that lay around on the ground near the edge of the cliffs; veritable boulders indeed and
sometimes slates and chunks with the size of little hills. These falling boulders and
occasional avalanches of stone had shattered and toppled trees, the trunks of which still
peered from below the rocks. Other boulders had sunk deep into the soft ground, like
with icebergs in the ocean, only their tips were still above the surface.
For the scouting adventurers, those big camp fires that the Kudesh tribals kept burning
were very convenient. The night vision goggles provided good sight in the darkness but
the fires added colour to the scene. Because the Varanoides were red, the humans could
spot them easily, looking through their binoculars. There were hundreds of fires and their
smoke filled the air above the lake and the glade in the rainforest with smoke, expelling
the insect-type pests that any tropical climate seemed to breed in over-abundance. That
was convenient for the adventurers, too. Local snakes and all kinds of autochthonous
predators and big, potentially dangerous animals were busy with their fear of flames; they
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had no interest in molesting the four scouts. Those were here to find out who exactly
these Varanoides were and what they were up to. They also wanted to find the gangsters,
whom they knew to be around, too, because their traces had led here. To achieve better
reconnaissance results, the four adventurers had to get closer to the Kudesh warriors;
they needed not only to see but also to listen.
There were hundreds of big camp fired set up around the lake. They reached close to the
edge of the tropical forest. That skirt of the wood was densely grown with lush greenery
and thus it offered good cover. On the glade around the lake, high grass-type vegetation
was also providing good camouflage. The sheer number of fire places made it advisable,
though, to pick out the more important locations for reconnaissance. They were just four
adventurers and there were hundreds of such fires. Creeping to each one and listening to
find out if the folks there were talking something of importance or not would take much
more time than was available in this one night.
To find out what camp fire was best to approach for espionage purposes, Achesh Akanem
climbed a high tree at the border of the wood and peered over the area, as far as foggy
mist and the camp fires’ smoke allowed him to see. He spotted some especially big flames
and concluded that these must lighten up the chieftains; at least he hoped so. The other
three scouts shares his expectation and together they moved to that location. The Kudesh
had taken astonishingly little security precautions and it turned out to be fairly easy to
crawl close enough to the said fireplace to reconnoitre adequately. The adventurers used
their parabolic microphones to gain a clear understanding of the conversations held there.
Indeed, as hoped for, the Varanoides around that biggest of all camp fires were the
chieftains. There were five of them. When the adventurers started listening, one of them
stood up. Even for a Varanoide he was very tall and broad. Bigger than a polar bear, he
was extremely muscular and looked fierce. His face and body were decorated with stripes
of colour, indicating that he was on the war path.
‘I know this one’, Karumir Marudy whispered. ‘His name is Dobu Wahogare and he is the
chieftain of the Kubade sub-tribe of our Kudesh folks. Just see how big and strong he is
and what huge chest and broad shoulders he has. He fought his way up and will fight like
hell to stay on the top.
The adventurers saw through their binoculars how Dobu Wahogare cued another
chieftain. This Varanoide also stood up. He was even taller than the first one and equally
muscular. This race of aliens could reach three meter of height in rare cases. The two
warriors certainly belonged to the very rare of the rare cases.
‘And this is Duso Enugotes’, Vin Lakes introduced the other chieftain to his companions.
‘He is rumoured having killed a dynaraptor with bare claws.’
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‘It was a baby dynaraptor’, Achesh Akanem specified. ‘That was still no mean feat as even
such a little one is already big and strong enough to have anyone of us Varanoides for
breakfast, lunch, or dinner, as it pleases. Yet, it was not adult’, he insisted.
Dobu Wahogare and Duso Enugotes were apparently agitated. They exchanged a few
words in their respective dialects. Then, those two moved away from the fire. Perhaps
they wanted to inspect the sentinels. That was to result in trouble for the sentinels
because there were none around. At least none had been detected by the adventurers.
They were slowly coming toward the scouts who were still hiding in the high grass,
listening and monitoring what those chieftains were doing.
‘They will pass us by’, Vin Lakes said. ‘Shall we capture them?’ he asked in full earnest.
They had small flasks of allyl methyl sulphide, previously thought of as means of selfdefence in case of emergency. Karumir Mardy and Achesh Akanem had gas masks. It was
a double-edged sword to use them, though. Wearing the respiration filters the two
Varanoide adventurers would be spared from the anaesthetic effect of that chemical. On
the other hand, Karumir Mardy and Achesh Akanem would not smell anything anymore.
The excellent sense of smell that these two aliens possessed was an important asset on a
scouting mission like this. The two chieftains of different Kudesh sub-tribes would be
important assets, too. After a quick conversation about the values of those different
assets, the decision was taken to give it a try and take the risk. Achesh Akanem and
Karumir Marudy put on their gas masks and Vin Lakes and Ben Sommer took out those
little flasks with the allyl methyl sulphide. When Dobu Wahogare and Duso Enugotes were
close enough, the human scouts opened those little flasks with the strongly somniferous
content and threw them. Even just opening them might have been enough. Ben and Vin
wanted to make sure it worked, though. The two Varanoide chieftains fell almost like
trees struck by lightnings.
Having knocked Dobu Wahogare and Duso Enugotes out was only part of the feat. Two
aliens who were as big, strong, and heavy like bulls or polar bears lay there on the ground.
They were not supposed to remain there. Taking full advantage of having administered
the devilishly smelly anaesthesia to them required taking them in custody. They should
serve as pawn against assaults of their followers. For that purpose, the peacefully sleeping
Dobu Wahogare and Duso Enugotes needed to be under the actual control of the
adventurers; at their current location, they were not. That those slumbering Varanoides
were strong like buffaloes wasn’t an issue, they were unconscious, after all. The problem
was rather the lack of strength on the side of the adventurers. They had to drag or carry
their captives back to the edge of the forest, through the forest, to the wall of rock
surrounding the geological depression and then up the cliffs. That last leg of the way alone
meant more than three hundred meters of vertical distance. Crawling to the Kudesh camp
in silence and inconspicuously was one thing. Dragging the captive Varanoides away was
another business. Vin Lakes and Ben Sommer were hardly strong enough to move those to
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slumbering tribal chieftains if they helped together. Achesh Akanem and Karumir Marudy
on the other hand wore gas masks lest they also turned into sleeping bulls. Those
respirators posed a non-negligible resistance to the flow of air in and out of an individual’s
lungs, limiting that person’s maximally possible strenuous effort. Protracted physical
activity was aerobic and as such needed unobstructed oxygen supply.
There was no good in waiting and pondering. With joint forces, all the four adventurers
pulled the two deeply benumbed Varanoide chieftains along, through the high grass and
toward the edge of the forest. It was a hell of a time for them and a purgatory of
strenuous exertion. Given the need to be silent while moving those two dazed creatures
along, Ben Sommer and Vin Lakes got far too little oxygen. Their muscles were burning
and their hearts’ palpitation would have frightened any physician; had one been around.
Achesh Akanem and Karumir Marudy were not better off with their gas masks. Thus, once
they had pulled Dobu Wahogare and Duso Enugotes into the forest, they all stopped and
breathed. Once they could think clearly again, they decided to keep those two here. No
matter how valuable Dobu Wahogare and Duso Enugotes could be as exchange object,
they were simply too heavy for carrying them all along the way through the forest and up
the cliff. Maybe later, somebody could come with a hopper or, even more ingenious, one
could just hide those two captives and yet use them for barter. As long as they were away
from their tribes, it did not matter where actually they could be found; or did it? The four
adventurers decided that it did not matter.
Dobu Wahogare and Duso Enugotes were put to the ground, arranged in lateral recovery
position, as anyone ever doing a first aid course learned, covered with some twigs and
branches and old leaves from the ground and left slumbering. Who sleeps does not do any
nonsense; hopefully. There was no known incidence of Varanoides’ somnambulism; and
even less so of such aliens sleepwalking when intoxicated with allyl methyl sulphide. Poor
creatures, these. Hopefully, there were not aggressive insect or other harmful life forms to
attack them or to feast on them. Being a Varanoide tribal chieftain was hard fate these
days.
Further temporarily inhuming the non-humans under heaps of loose fallen foliage, the
four fearless adventurers foresaw to return to the big bonfire where the remaining three
chieftains should still be; those, whom they had seen about an hour or so ago there. They
might already be missing their brethren in leadership, though. If not, listening to them
could turn out to be elucidating. And if they had realised the un-natural absence of Dobu
Wahogare and Duso Enugotes, spying on the remaining chieftains could be even more
enlightening, though more dangerous, too.
Because they had left an autobahn of a track in the grass of the glade, the four
adventurers this time took a different way. They went along the edge of the forest for
some time and then turned toward the big fire where they had last time seen the five
Kudesh chieftains; before capturing two of them. Slowly and cautiously, in order to make
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good for the exuberant luxuriousness they had afforded themselves when captivating
Dobu Wahogare and Duso Enugotes, the four scouts advanced through the high grass of
the glade towards the big bonfire place.
Karumir Marudy crawled in front of the others. They were far enough from the place
where the humans had thrown the flasks with the allyl methyl sulphide and the two
Varanoide adventurers had taken off their gas masks again. There was a very gentle
breeze, hardly to be felt, more to be seen from the direction that the smoke of the many
wood fires too, away from the place where the allyl methyl sulphide had been used. That
re-affirmed the two Varanoides that they could safely be without their breathers. They
certainly did not want to faint and wake up bound to the rack set up for them by a rival
tribe’s warriors.
Suddenly, Karumir Marudy stopped. ‘Strange smell’, he whispered. ’Dead humans!’
Achesh Akanem soon also scented the same. ‘Freshly killed’, he said. ‘Maybe three hours’,
he estimated. ‘Just before our arrival here.’
‘Lot of blood was spilled’, Karumir Marudy added. ‘And inner organs, too.’
The four scouts moved into the direction where the smell of death came from. Because
the Varanoides’ noses were so sharp, they had scented the dead bodies several hundred
meters in advance. Creeping such long distances through the high grass of that glade
around the central lake was demanding and stressful, because every moment they could
encounter one of those thousands of hostile Kudesh Varanoides who had gathered at this
camp ground to hold a big meeting of their tribe. The main reason for that coming
together was the assault on their relatives from the Modio group of Seilon Boloidumor.
Thus, the Kudesh were in bellicose mood, eager for revenge, firmly and fiercely on the war
path. If anyone of them detected the adventurers crawling around their war fair, the
Kudesh were likely to make short process. Possibly, that’s what they did with those
humans, too, whose mortal remains were starting to decompose somewhere around here
in the warm moisture.
The disgusting smell of dead, rotting meat and spilled blood grew ever stronger, so that
ultimately even the humans could recognise it. That was just meters before Karumir
Marudy accidentally touched the first corpse. He was just crawling forward when his hand
touched something that he knew was not natural; not wood or mud or anything that
usually was to be found around a swampy glade.
It soon turned out that Karumir Marudy had discovered the first corpse; or rather part of
it; for it was a human leg only that he had found. The four adventurers swarmed out and
within less than half an hours, they had found body parts belonging to approximately
forty human cadavers. All were terribly mauled, almost as I anyone had treated them with
a meat mincing machine. But it hadn’t been a masticator that had battered and torn apart
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those human bodies; Varanoide claws had been the means of choice to affect such injuries.
In the darkness and given the wounds that all found body parts showed, it was difficult to
identify anyone. Heads were found, too, but they were also disfigured and mutilated to a
degree that any attempt at ad-hoc identification was futile. A specialist in forensic
medicine could compare findings with known data, if there was any, or with the faces
recreated from memory. Here, nothing like that was available.
The four adventurers still supposed the corpses to be those of Lom Claybrinck and his
forty robbers. The numbers fitted, as the body parts belonged to approximately forty
male humans. Not many other groups of forty men were suspected to have roamed
around this part of the galaxy recently. Therefore, the assumption was reasonable.
‘What about the hand-drawn map that Revilo mentioned first and that Duref and
Walterson confirmed?’ Vin Lakes asked. Ben Sommer had told him about the document
and what the said companions had reported about it. On this sheet was the hand-drawn
map that gave the location of the hidden ancient treasure of an antique civilisation.
‘Most likely it will be lost’, Ben Sommer deplored. ‘These torn corpses are without attire’,
he remarked. ‘If Claybrinck had the map with him, then it will be where the clothes are’,
he speculated. ‘Otherwise, it will be in his hopper; that is not in the possession of the
Kudesh. And if he has buried it somewhere on the way, it will be lost together with his
life.’
‘The Kudesh might still have it’, in Lakes suspected.
‘Asking them about it doesn’t seem to be well advised, given the situation’, Ben Sommer
responded. ‘When they are after our lives, what shall we tell them for matters of
persuasion?’
‘We have some of their chieftains’, Von Lakes reminded his friend.
‘Hmm’, Ben Sommer hummed. ‘Let’s see. Those chieftains were meant to serve as paw for
us being left in peace. We might still try to be exchanged them for the map. Negotiating in
itself is a risk, though, as we have to somehow establish a connection and the warriors
could follow the threads and catch us by surprise’, he cautioned. ‘The mines and the ore
veins are still there anyway. Sure, getting the treasure as windfall gain additionally to the
ore from the mines would be nice, but let’s better not spoil it all for the sake of some
more.
‘We don’t know the relative values of the treasure and the ore that we can get out of that
place’, Vin Lakes indicated. ‘If that ancient civilisation dug for precious metals there for
centuries or even millennia and left behind a big share of their production in the form of
this treasure, the hoarding could well be the main part of what’s to be found there.’
‘You might be right’, Ben Sommer agreed. ‘But let’s still be cautious.’
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In that moment, the headlights of approaching hoppers tore through the cloudy sky and
pierced the fog coming from the central lake and smoke rising from the many bonfires.
The four scouting adventurers lay as deep as they could. They hoped that the pilots would
not see them and the traces that had left from above. They held the long grass and bent it
to cover them. They were lucky. The in-coming hoppers rusher over them and landed near
the fireplaces. Maybe the pilots did not see the adventurers; or they possibly deemed
them just some more dead bodies among the many others down there. Hiding a needle in
a stack of needles had good prospects of success. Playing dead in a pile of dead bodies
might yield similarly good results. But the four adventurers did not worry about why ever
the newcomers did not see them; they were just glad.
Out of the just-landed hoppers, their pilots exited. A great howling ensued. ‘Ayanubu subtribe’, Achesh Akanem determined. ‘Yet more Kudesh warriors.’ The howling and roaring
continued. ‘They are coming closer’, Achesh Akanem warned.
‘They will have a perambulation of the massacre ground here’, Karumir Marudy warned.
‘The newcomers want to see the slain enemies and the warriors who wreaked that
carnage want to show them the site of the glorious battue.’
‘Let’s get out of here’, Ben Sommer concluded.
‘That’s what I wanted to suggest’, Karumir Marudy seconded.
All four adventurers crawled back towards the edge of the forest. They took care to twist
only little grass and to raise and straighten up what they couldn’t avoid bending. They just
reached the border of the wood when they realised that some hoppers were landing even
between trees in the forest. There was no other way than up; the four scouts were spies
bit no moles and couldn’t dig into the ground. Both Varanoides climbed up the trees like
cats. With their strong claws they almost scurried up the arboreal plants like squirrels
back on planet Earth. The two human adventurers were harder pushed to ascend but with
their Varanoide friends pulling an arm here and a leg there, they also made it up; just in
time to be out of sight when the newcomers arrived.
The newly-arrived Ayanubu walked across the high grass of the glade toward their tribal
brethren. Those picked up burning branches from the fires and moved toward the
newcomers. They met somewhere in the middle, not very far from the venue of the
butchery where the mangled remains of the mauled humans were scattered. Now, with
the burning branches shedding some more light on the carnage, the four adventurers
hiding on the trees could see in colour the bloody battue. With their strong-magnification
binoculars with nocturnal light amplification the scouts saw. With their parabolic
microphones they heard. One utterance of the Kudesh Varanoides contained the name
Vin Lakes. One set of tribal warriors believed the mauled dead bodies to be those of Vin
Lakes and his friends. The other set of wild warriors negated that. Both were surprised.
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Had they not followed the traces of this Vin Lakes and his friends since the encounter that
was followed up by lots of encounters of a different, not at all hostile variety, between
and among many of their tribe’s members? So, how could the people leaving one and the
same set of traces change and turn out to be some other people when finally massacred?
That question caused great consternate incomprehension. The newcomers were not
content with the verbal declarations of their tribal brethren and asked for each and every
head of the mauled muckers, as they called them, to be shown to them. The request for
that gory presentation of ghastly evidence of identity caused a little commotion and a
greater embarrassment as the Kudesh warriors who had wreaked that havoc prided
themselves in killing very thoroughly. Thus, even finding identifiable head proved a
forensic nightmare. Yet, despite the obvious inconvenience the newcomers insisted. The
search took some time and the four adventurers were starting to feel some beginning
discomfort; up there in the trees on the big branches where they sat.
While an improvement in the tactical situation of the four adventurers was yet keeping
them waiting, an end to boredom was near. It approached in the form of something that
warranted a Varanoide’s death cry. Adult specimens of that species were regularly bigger
and stronger than humans and they issued death cries of bloodcurdling sound intensity.
The first horrible scream was followed by several more before the four scouts on the trees
had a chance to understand what was going on. This lack of comprehension was shared by
the Kudesh warriors who likewise only heard the piercing shrieks of extreme emergency
and fatal misery but saw no initiator either.
The attacked Kudesh on the ground and the adventurers up in the trees’ crowns realised
the identity of the death-wielding attackers at about the same time. Those assailants were
Gimee tribe Varanoides. They had come to planet Lemuba Rusa on the hunt for their
hereditary enemy, the Kudesh. The Kudesh were not the only hereditary enemy of the
Gimee; and vice versa. In addition to hereditary enemies they all lots of other, chosen
enemies; those of convenience and those of no real reason at all. As if the galaxy wasn’t
big enough, those tribes fought among each other; and within the tribes, sub-tribes
struggled and there clans had their issues with each other and then of course different
families and individuals. However, the humans weren’t better. On the contrary, it seemed
as if the humans had invented even more causes to be at odds than these red-scaled
aliens.
Who were not at odds with each other Were those four scouts sitting in the crowns of two
trees near each other. Vin Lakes and Karumir Marudy had climbed up one big tree and
Ben Sommer was helped up another one by Achesh Akanem. For climbing up trees, the
Varanoides’ claws were helpful. Now, being up in the arboreal crowns, the adventurers all
agreed that they were much better off than those individuals on the ground. There, a
battle was raging. The Gimee warriors had approached planet Lemuba Rusa unnoticed by
anyone and landed in the forests around the Kudesh settlement. Then, they had traversed
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the woods and started attacking their hereditary enemies on foot. Hoppers were no war
machines; even if some of them carried guns mounted on the outside, they were not
really very useful for the purpose of fighting. Out in space, a machine with a rifle attached
to it can score a hit on another hopper and thus be a dangerous device; especially if the
other one is un-armed. On a planet, where the frail hoppers were subjected to counter
fire, they were rather flying traps than combat equipment. Any single projectile could
bring a hopper down; almost irrespective of where it hit, because the machines were no
constructed for fighting; only for travelling. On the other hand, an individual hiding on the
ground, taking shelter behind the trunk of a tree or a boulder was a much smaller target
than a hovering hopper and he was much harder to spot in the first place, too. And then,
of course, if that space flight machine was the only means of conveyance available to an
individual, it was very precious. Having it damaged could be tantamount to life sentence
on a foreign planet; and life could be very short there. Therefore, adventurers, be they
tribal Varanoide or human or Aduhika or whatever, usually preferred to go easy on their
hoppers and space them from combat; if somehow reasonable possible.
For some short while, there was an utter clutter of confusion on the glade where the
Kudesh warriors had their camp. The first surprise of the attack was soon overcome,
though, and the defenders became more organised. They soon had their weapons in their
claws and they stirred up the fires to deny the assaulters the advantage of striking from
the dark. The fighting factions called and yelled; the forest echoed by the war cries. Shots
rang out, closer and closer to the centre of the camp on the glade. Strange, dark shapes
flitted from tree to tree and let their guns flash. The Kudesh at first responded only
individually to the assault, here and there, but then soon combined into robust groups,
supporting each other in their tactics. There was no actual, general, battlefield, if not the
whole geological depression with the glade and the forest was to be termed at the
struggle’s ground. There was no proper front line either, but a vicious pandemonium of
battling groups and individuals trying to cause the maximum carnage among the members
of the respective other twice while staying alive.
The Gimee tribe Varanoides had intended to they want to surprise the Kudesh, but had
not understood to overwhelm silently the few guards stationed at the perimeter. Where
the four adventurers had come and gone almost at their own discretion, and even
captured two mighty chieftains and taken them along, the Gimee warriors had failed. The
death cries of those unfortunately sentinels had alarmed their companions, and now it
was necessary to fight each single enemy. The decision over the battle was now taken
away from surprise and transferred to the realm of bravery; and of numeric majority. The
red-scaled aliens usually preferred to attack in the early morning hours when they
supposed their enemies’ sleep to be deepest; at least according to their conditions. Why
the Gimee warriors had made an exception to this rule and tried a different approach was
hard to be seen. Perhaps they had still hoped to penetrate unnoticed and then to be able
to shoot down the enemies who were so well-lit by the fires. When that was not
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successful, their bravery had not allowed them to retreat; they were still pushing hard to
penetrate the enemy’s positions and were now fighting with much loss.
It turned out that the Kudesh warriors were in the majority; moreover, they knew the
terrain better than the Gimee fighters. Accordingly, the latter, although they kept
extraordinarily brave, were gradually pushed back. The struggling was by means of
projectile rifles and claws, daggers and spades, clubs and hand grenades, from a distance
and nearby, with shooting and stabbing, with a knife or an axe.
For the four hidden spectators it was a very exciting scene: Wild fighting on a wild planet
in the wild areas of the galaxy in the wildest manner! In one place, two combatants fought
under most brutal howls; over there, some are slaughtered in devilish silence. Where one
fell, immediately the victorious warrior was over him was her to take his life and give him
the rest, perhaps just to lose his own life and be given the rest in the next moment.
With their high-powered binoculars, the four adventurers on the two trees could see two
of the three remaining Kudesh chieftains fighting. The adventurers had earlier spied them
out near their grand fire place and now recognised them again in the battle. The fires
were burning bright and those red and yellow flames illuminated the whole scene in
ghastly aura. Like ensorcelled the antagonized Varanoides were out to kill each other in a
fanatic murderous frenzy.
Two of the Kudesh chieftains were in the middle of that massacre and gave an example of
the utmost bravery and ferocity to the other warriors of their tribes. They fought with
barbarous savagery and incited their followers to the same fierceness.
The third chieftain, though, tried to remain out of the hot fighting and had positioned
himself on a little hillock near a big tree. The elevation was just a slight eminence
protruding from the otherwise flat glade by the height of two or three tall Varanoides.
From there, this chieftain was attempting to keep an overview of the combat theatre; he
probably was far from enjoying it, though. Despite the balance of victory already distinctly
tilting toward his Kudesh warriors, the carnage already caused and the ongoing butchery
still likely to prevail till the most pronounced victory was to force the calm of the
cemetery upon the venue, constantly made him aware of the bereavement his tribe had
to suffer.
This third chieftain, who remained under the big tree on the small hillock and tried to
pierce the smoke and fog over the battlefield with his sharp senses, gave order to his
warriors in an attempt to apply leadership to bring the troubles to a victorious end. His
position was less elevated than those of the four adventurers on the trees but he was
closer to the centre of the combat. Still, and despite the smoke and the fog limiting sight
and even sound, he had managed to bring some order into the wild fighting of his crowd.
His commands apparently resulted tactical advantages; sending support where it was
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needed and calling back forces where there was nobody much to fight, concentrating
warriors here to gain superiority and there to occupy a favourable position, he helped
push the Gimee tribals back. Once those retreated and then turned to open flight, this old
Varanoide chieftain did not follow his troops but stood still on his hill. He left the task of
finishing up the remaining enemies who could not escape the wrath of the Kudesh
warriors to the other chieftains.
As the fighting turned away from the location of the trees on which the four adventurers
sat, they found the right time for their own retreat to approach. If later the struggle might
come their way again; unexpected but not impossible as it was; or when the Kudesh were
to come back as glorious victorious vanquishers, getting down from the trees and away
from the venue of the battue could turn out to be more difficult. Thus, the four scouts
climbed down from their temporary raised hide.
They glanced a last time in the direction of the now lone chieftain who was standing
under that tree on that hillock. In that very moment, a stray projectile hit a branch just
above the head of the old tribal warrior. The branch broke off and fell precisely on the
head of that Varanoide commander. He fell down like hewn with an axe. Nobody else
seemed to realise that. The tribal chieftain, the high commander of the battlefield, had
collapsed and none of his warriors perceived anything. The four adventurers carefully
secured the vicinity. They took their binoculars and night vision devices and looked
around. There was nobody to be seen who appeared as if he had realised what fate befell
his chieftain.
‘Let’s capture him, too’, Karumir Marudy summoned the others to action.
Everybody else agreed and they followed him. They rushed over the former battlefield,
reached the unconscious Varanoide chieftain, took him and carried him away. They
reached the edge of the forest without any disturbance. They soon reached the spot
where they had left the other two captured chieftains; bound well and covered under a
heap of leaves. These were still just as they had been left; neither harm nor liberation had
come their way in the meantime.
How to get those three mighty Varanoide chieftains from their present deposit to some
secure location where they could be kept more conveniently? Carrying them up the cliffs
to the adventurers’ hoppers was not feasible. Given enough time, the four scouts could
cope with even that burden but the temporary constraint was speaking against that
attempt. Just leaving the collected chieftains here would be a waste; they were such nice
collateral for negotiations. Luckily, the solution came in the form of a light reflection,
caused by a flare emerging from one of the many great bonfires, bouncing back from
some bright part of a hopper. That little sparkle was sufficient to drag the heightened
attention of those sharp-sensed adventurers to the machine. They immediately
understood its use. The Gimee tribal fighters had come by hoppers and parked their
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vehicles in the forests around that glade. As many of the Gimee warriors had fallen, their
machines were now vacant. With the Kudesh still in pursuit of their enemies, nobody of
the mutually antagonized tribal Varanoides took care of that valuable booty at the
moment. Using it fell thus to the four adventurers. One of them quickly ran to the hopper,
checked it superficially, returned with it to the others, and then helped load the captured
chieftains onto it.
The captured hopper was small; like most of the machines preferably used by the
Varanoides. The chieftains were all big; too big for this small hopper. Even the least huge
of them would not fit in entirely and the adventurers had to keep the machine open. As
no space flight was planned, that was only a minor concerned, though. But how to
transport the other two big captives? Some quick deliberation resulted in two makeshift
stretcher-like things to be cobbled up from branches and liana-type plants lying around
nearby and attached to the hopper. Those were in return to hold the captives. Then, the
bound hostile chieftains were attached to the stretchers and the hopper’s autopilot
system was set to aim at certain coordinates, where the hostages should be collected
from.
The machine departed and the adventurers set forth to exit the deep circular valley. They
still had to climb up more than three hundred meters through the narrow ravine that
connected the ground of the depression with the surrounding highlands behind the steep
circle of cliffs. It was a demanding night for the little group of scouting adventurers. At
least, none of them got injured or even killed. The warring Varanoide tribals down there
in the deep circular valley had fared worse. While the four travellers were climbing up the
cliffs, the Kudesh were collecting their injured and deaths and doing the gleanings. Some
wounded but not yet death Gimee warriors still had to be killed and the territory had to
be inspected to make sure no hiding enemy was being omitted. The final body count was
still due and the survey and appraisal of the own inventory; weapons, hoppers, supplies of
all kinds; as well as the booties ransacked from the attackers had to be counted and
registered. While the Kudesh were busy with these bookkeeping-type of activities and
taking stock, the adventurers returned to their hoppers. Those were still where they had
been left; nobody had discovered them in the meantime. When the four scouts finally
arrived back at their own camp, they quickly gave instructions to reinforce the guards,
then had a swift bath on the warm lake that filled the centre of the cavern, and finally
went to sleep. They badly needed a rest.
They could have a rest without bad conscience. The Kudesh and Gimee tribes were busy
with each other. Now, after the assault on the grand camp of the Kudesh, those warriors
were not likely to remain here but could be expected with a high degree of certainty to try
to chase the Gimee. It was best to just let this all happen and avoid being caught in
between. The Gimee had fled. They probably did not remain on the planet but escaped to
hyperspace. Their enemies, the victims of their assault, were enraged and keen on
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revenge. It was wise to let them all get out of the way. Shall they chase each other and
settle whatever business they had. The adventurers would then later follow their own
way and try avoiding encounters with the furious fighters of the Kudesh.
For the transportation of the captive Varanoide chieftains, some more hoppers were
needed. If those Kudesh leaders where to be carried along, a suitable means of
conveyance was to be found. Because of the big battle between the Kudesh and the
Gimee tribes, a number of hoppers were supposed to remain vacant; just standing around
in the forest to be picked up by somebody. The warriors moving away from planet
Lemuba Rusa at forced pace certainly tried to take as many machines along as possible;
mainly by means of adjusting their autopilot systems to follow a leading vehicle. They
might not have found all of them, though. Also, an empty hopper on autopilot is usually
slower than an organically piloted machine. Thus, some Varanoide warriors might have
even left behind still useable hoppers in order to be faster on their flight or on their
pursuit of the fleeing. In any case, there was a decent chance that some more left-alone
machines could be found. Because Ben Sommer, Achesh Akanem, Vin Lakes, and Karumir
Marudy just had spent a tough time during the previous night, in this night some other
folks went to the deep circular valley where the glade with the former Kudesh camp was,
to scout around and if possible retrieve some hoppers.
Lentbender was one of those who volunteered for the mission. As a matter of fact, he
insisted on being part of it. He wanted to see the mauled remains of the dead devil
Claybrinck for himself. Being told that the murderer of his family was among the victims of
the Kudesh warriors’ rage served to reconcile Lentbender with a feeling of justice. Yet, he
felt that he had to see with his own eyes the evidence before he could accept the fact.
Other participants were Tuvat Crown, Kof Sakay, Hely Mor, and several Varanoides. They
had learned from their predecessors the peculiarities of the location. Therefore, they were
better prepared. The Kudesh and their enemies, the Gimee, were all supposed to have
departed but that was rather a supposition than a definitely known fact. Also, the risk of
booby traps, anti-personnel mines, improvised explosive devices; and even poison
remained. Thus, the new crew went set forth with due caution. After a long night they
came back alive, healthy, un-harmed; and successful. They have managed to find some
more hoppers and bring them along. Most of these machines had required some sort of
mending but now they all ran decently. Once in the big cavern where the adventurers had
set up their camp and under the care of hopper experts, the found machines were
improved from running decently to running well. Lentbender also had seen what he
wanted to see with his own eyes. That he now knew the cruel murderer of his family to be
dead left a strange void in him. He felt it as a reduction of pressure but at the same time,
it was an emptiness of non-negligible size that now made him feel cold and blunt. The
burning pain that had tormented him and the rage for revenge that had driven him slowly
gave way to some form of deep, cold sadness; silent and depressing. Those feelings did
not take his soul over entirely but they were strong enough to make him more silent,
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introspect; even made him seem more dégagé. He still marched on; did not give up. Yet
his drive reduced to a more moderate level; even to the extent of appearing slightly
subdued. Lentbender continued to help the other adventurers and he supported their
common cause of reaching planet Tasik Perak and to make a fortune from mining there;
yet he was more of a follower than a leader now.
After the newly found hoppers had all been checked thoroughly and put to good condition,
the captured Kudesh chieftains were put into these machines retrieved from the
battleground. Then, the adventurers took off for the final stretch of their travel to planet
Tasik Perak. The usual hyperspace travel followed; leading the adventurers along streams
that were sometimes broad enough for two and three hoppers to travel side by side. Then,
the situation changed. A part of the way had to be covered in normal space. There was a
cloud of gas and dust that exercised obliterative distortions to the hyperspace currents
with its gravitation force. The streams that elsewhere served to well for travel through the
superposed dimension just ceased here in the vicinity of this cloud. One had to cross it to
arrive at the ascension points at the other side.
It was a tremendously impressive scenery that the eyes of the adventurers came to see
when they exited hyperspace and faced the dense gas cloud which they had to penetrate.
The travellers piloted their hoppers into a void between the bulging bulbs of gas and dust
that resembled a canyon on a planet’s surface. Illuminated by the stars in the vicinity, the
masses of gasses and dust shone in a brilliancy of different colours that almost dazzled the
eye. Colossal bulges of clouds stood next to each other in one direction and formed
cascades of consecutively staggered bulbs in another; covering each other partially here
and merging into one another there; all in a myriad of different colours and forms. Like
the structural levels of large buildings they seemed to support and hold each other. Here,
the cloud looked like a pile if pillows and there more like a heap of hay bales. One view
showed bulges resembling long-unshorn sheep and another exhibited the cascading walls
of a fairy castle from the old cherished childhood tales. Here, these clouds formed pillars
and arches and there they made up radiant floors and lucent ceilings, and shiny walls
brightened up from the inside by a fantastic fire place, agleam by the courtesy of a shining
star not too far away. The alien suns of the vicinity shone at these magnificent formations
and had the same gleam in downright indescribable colours. Certain bulges of the cloud
shimmered in the brightest blue, others deep golden red; between them were yellow,
olive green and others sparkling in fiery copper, while in the furrows rested a saturated
blue shadow. But this pomp in which the spectator's eyes wanted to immerse was dead; it
lacked life, was devoid of any movement. In terms of centuries and millennia, change
would be apparent; during the short span of time a man’s memory grasped, any alteration
remained unperceived.
Their way led the adventurers through a gigantic gate formed by the cloud’s bulges and
then back into hyperspace. What boredom it was to travel along one of the usual streams
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there after having experienced that grandiose scenery! Yet, after some time of the usual
ride along one of the winding minor streams traversing the superposed dimension, the
adventurers were given another treat for the memory by Mother Nature. The hyperspace
current first narrowed down to a tight inlet, traversable for only one hopper at a time.
Then, this narrow stretch wound along for some time, leading the adventurers through a
seemingly endless sequence of narrow curves, hairpin bends, and repeated switchback
succeeding each other by yet ever more of the same kind. Then, after turning and twisting
ad nauseam, the current broadened again till it became a wide plane; broad enough for all
of the adventurers to ride along side by side; if they wanted to. The travellers crossed that
flat foil-like hyperspace structure and on the other side came again to a narrow inlet.
Again, a winding path followed.
Then, finally, planet Tasik Perak lay before the adventurers. Ben Sommer led his
companions to the location near the Lake Karep Kisat where he had found the old ore
mines operated by that mysterious ancient civilisation and the metalliferous vein still
remaining in abundance. The lake and the surrounding ore deposits were in a
mountainous region of Tarik Perak. Actually, as could be seen from above on the approach,
most of that world’s land surface was mountainous. The Karep Kisat waterbody and the
ore occurrence closest to the surface and most easily to exploit were in a geological
formation that looked similar to the figure 8 or an antique hour-glass. Both locations were
deep, round valleys with high circular mountain ranges limiting them. The most apparent
difference between them was that Lake Karep Kisat was in the middle of a green place
with trees in abundance and meadows surrounding the main water body and several
creeks while the other place was totally barren. The two circular valleys were connected
by one narrow but steep and deep gorge.
The adventurers landed in the dry place where the mines and the ore were. Ben Sommer
wanted to show his companions what they had come here for. He did not want to let the
captive Kudesh chieftains know about it. Therefore, the hoppers containing those were
made to land elsewhere and remain there for the time being.
The sight presenting itself to the adventurers was impressive. The tremendous scenery
consisted of towering walls of bare rock dazzling in opalescence colours in the morning
lights. The play of shades on the tremendous rock masses added to the effect these
formidable examples of nature’s power exerted on the meek little individuals. Colossal
crystalline pyramids, pillars, gigantic walls, frozen waves, standing next to each other here
and towering over each other behind there in consecutive cascades of bodacious boulders
and massive mountains encompassed the bottom of the circular valley and reached high
up to the cloudless sky. In one location, the rock formation looked like something just out
of proportion, so sleek and smooth that any reference point for estimating their true size
was missing. In another location, the stone pillars resembled petrified decuman denizen
of a humungous pre-human civilisation. Yet other places the rocks were to be compared
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with stone castles and fantastic citadels, with their many pillars and protruding corners,
points and edges. Unhindered by any clouds the sun of planet Tasik Perak sun splendidly
illuminated these magnificent formations and gave them a magic gleam in downrightly
indescribable colours. Some boulders and rocky walls shimmered in the most luminescent
violet, others were glowing in deepest red like freshly polished copper; between them
were golden yellow planes, boulders basking in refulgence of olive green and sparkling in
fiery overlays of brass-like embellishments, while in the furrows untouched by the direct
sun there saturated dark blue shadow, kept away from turning black by reflections from
other rocks.
It was a spectacular show of force that Mother Nature had come up with effortlessly;
unconsciously, yet leaving the impression of might and beauty on the minds of the
spectators. Those spectators were the only evident beings alive in that environment.
There dripped not a drop of water between the rocks; there flowed not the faintest trickle
between the bare boulders, not a blade of grass was to be found from the deep bottom of
the valley to the high peaks of the surrounding mountains, and to the rigid walls was not a
verdant branch, not a single leaf, which the longing eye of spectators would love to notice
as evidence of life. But that it at times there had been water was evident by the traces
that it had left on the rocks while rushing over and through them and taking boulders,
gravel and sand along, grinding gouges into the surfaces. The bottom of the valley was
filled with rounded rocks, their edges scoured off and their interstices were filled with
sand and smooth gravel.
Knowing themselves to have arrived at the final destination of their long journey, the
adventurers were excited. This was supposed to be the place where untold richness rested,
waiting for them to lay their hands on it, grab it with decisive confidence and make
themselves made men. Ben Sommer had brought his companions to this location and now
he was still to show the metalliferous lode to Sherbetor, who was the competent expert.
Sherbetor had his searching glance wander around and then said: ‘It is possible that we
find a rich bonanza here. However, if there really should be precious metals here, so it is
likely that they exist in significant quantities. This tremendous geological depression was
washed over for millennia. The water gushed through the narrow gorges between the
rocks southward, forming a whirlpool as it could go no further. This whirlpool, which
constantly moved the rock, ground it to gravel and sand. The ground on which we stand
was formed by the accrued sedimentary deposition which accumulated the heaviest
particles at the lowest level and thus shall include the leached metals which most deeply
declined as a result of their density and thus are below the sand. If we dig a few yards
deep, it remains to be seen whether our journey was successful or in vain.’
‘Perhaps we don’t need to dig deep’, Ben Sommer replied. ‘It should be sufficient to prove
that the surrounding walls of rock contain the precious metals, doesn’t it?
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‘Indeed’, Sherbetor agreed. ‘Should these walls gold or silver, then the bottom of our
circular deep valley here will certain contain them in even higher concentration.’
‘Come along’, Ben Sommer invited the engineer and all his other companions to follow
him. ‘I will show you the proof!’ He confidently walked straight on to a spot which he
seemed to remember very well. His confidence should not be put to shame. Ben
Sommer’s hand reached the a stone wall that was somewhat crumbly at this place and
where current water gushing along with his velocity had exercised sufficient force to
undercut the wall by an arm’s length. Sommer pulled out a stone from a crevice and one
more and yet one more. A cleavage came to be seen that had been closed with these
stones previously. This crack in the rock was caused by natural influence and, as the
adventurers saw now, clearly had been artificially enhanced. Ben reached into the crevice
and took something out that liked like a dark-brown corroded wire. He showed it to
Sherbetor and the other bystanders. ‘I took a sample of that and had it analysed. Now, I
would like to learn of our own engineer’s assessment is the same?’
Sherbetor took the sample that Sommer had just taken out from the crack in the rock and
looked at it closely. ‘That’s solid silver!’ Sherbetor exclaimed. ‘Has that originally been in
that crack?’
‘Yes, it was’, Ben confirmed. ‘And there was more of it. That crack was littered with it. It
seems to be going quite deep into the rock and be rich in the precious metal.’
‘Then, I can almost guarantee that we will enjoy a rich harvest here once we start
exploiting those deposits in earnest’, Sherbetor announced. ‘I’m already seeing several
other such cracks that could well contain solid silver, too.’
‘There are massive metalliferous veins of ore here, too’, Sommer pointed out. He asked
Sherbetor and the others to come along and they walked a little while till Ben came to a
place where a slate of stone was laying. He removed the slate and some fine sand and
took up a chunk of butterscotch coloured cubic crystals that had grown together. He gave
it to Sherbetor.
The engineer held it in his hands and inspected it from all sides. ‘The chemical analysis will
be much better of course, but I would bet this to be chlorargyrite’, Sherbetor conjectured.
‘That’s right’, Ben reassured him. ‘The result of the chemical analysis resulted in it being
chlorargyrite.’
‘What purity’, Sherbetor asked; and everybody else also longed to know.
‘Seventy four percent pure silver’, Ben confirmed.
‘What a superb find!’ the engineer rejoiced. ‘Where is the metalliferous lode?’
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‘Over there’, Sommer answered, indication a direction with his stretched out arm. ‘I
covered the place with pebbles and shingle; whatever was at hand. I will soon show it to
you. But first, allow me to direct your attention to something else!’ He stepped over to
some other cleft and again removed some rubble. Then, he reached into the crevice and
retrieved a few little shiny objects, each with the size of a cherry.
‘Nuggets’, Sherbetor proclaimed. ‘Are they also from here?’
‘I found them when I was hiding out here, having some controversy with some not-sogentle individuals’, Sommer told. ‘Our disagreement was about my life, which they
wanted to take and I wanted to keep. Me being here will let you guess who prevailed at
the end. Anyway, this incident gave me the opportunity to discover there gold nuggets
and some more; quite a few more. I was facing a lack of water here and I dug into the
sand to find some. I could not get any water but found several of these.’
‘Then, there are also gold-bearing veins here; as I had suspected’, Sherbetor burst out of
exhilarated elation. The other adventurers also felt the pleasure of getting rewarded for
their ordeals. ‘There is a tremendous fortune in gold and silver around here, just
everywhere in the bedrock and under the alluvial deposits of sand and gravel, too, even
concentrated here at the bottom of the valley. It’s enough so that there is a fortune for
everyone.’
‘That’s the idea of bringing you all here’, Ben Sommer declared. ‘It’s far too much for me
alone. I couldn’t even exploit that all alone. And it’s enough for anyone of us here. So,
everybody who joined the trek and helped us to reach here at all and who will support the
mining effort will get his share. I discovered it. Sherbetor is the engineer who contributes
his expertise. Everybody else can help with the other work. That’s what I brought you all
here for. The precise terms and conditions and the share that anyone will get remain to be
determined yet but I am sure that we can reach a cordial agreement on that.’
Those words evoked the general exaltation of all the adventurers. They rejoiced in the
day-dreams of sudden richness. The jubilant elations continued when Ben Sommer led the
joyous crowd to the silver vain where he had found the chlorargyrite. It was a significant
lode of silver ore. It alone was worth a fortune. The rock all around looked like there was
much more of it, though.
Many of the adventurers wanted to start digging for the fortune right away, even without
tools. They took stones and hammered at the rock to see if they could break off some
pieces and lay bare some more silver ore; long before serious excavation could ensue.
‘Please refrain from that yet’, Ben Sommer objected. ‘We still have to think of some other
issues. After all, we’re most likely not alone around here’, he warned.
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‘But we left them all behind’, Hely Mor objected. ‘And Lom Claybrinck and his gangsters
we even left behind rotting in pieces!’ The joy of imagining what all he would later do with
his share of the treasure was gleaming in his eyes and he felt reluctant to allow another
disturbance to chase away his sweet day dreams.
‘Certainly we left them all behind’, Ben Sommer acknowledged. ‘But that does not mean
they won’t come after us. You certainly remember how mad the Kudesh were on us, even
though we haven’t done them any harm in the first place. They mistook us for some
bandits. Now, after what happened, they will be even madder. The Kudesh might have
learned from Claybrinck were we are going. If the Kudesh warriors are not coming for us,
they could very well come in pursuit of the Gimee. This region here is a known refugium
for the Gimee. Other Varanoide tribes also come through here, too. Most of them belong
to our friends or at least to those who are neutral towards us but some are hostile, too. So,
we better watch out. Given the time that has passed since the battle between the Kudesh
and the Gimee, we can safely assume the later to arrive here in just a couple of hours.
Therefore, we shouldn’t lose time. We best start with our preparation.
‘I fully agree’, Vin Lakes assented. ‘But before we begin with these defensive measures, I
would still like to know what difficulties mining here will encounter. To give a preliminary
estimation, our dear engineer will just need a few minutes, won’t he? So, please, Mister
Sherbetor, tell how well mining will work out here.’
The engineer looked around once; carefully and thoroughly. ‘It’s mainly water that we still
need here’, he said then. ‘Where is the nearest location where we can get any?’ he asked.
‘That’s Lake Karep Kisat’, Ben Sommer replied.
‘How far is that from here’, Sherbetor wanted to know. He must have seen it from space
when they were approaching their destination but he wasn’t accustomed to estimate
distances from far above. He was usually working with both feet firmly on the ground; and
not too rarely deep underground.
‘It’s about fifteen kilometres’, Ben Sommer responded.
‘How is the altitude of Lake Karep Kisat relative to this place?’ the engineer inquired. ‘Is it
higher than here?’
‘Considerably’, Ben Sommer affirmed.
‘Then the required downward gradient is given’, Sherbetor analysed. ‘The next issue is
how to get the water here; if we can channel it from the lake to the precious metal
deposits. We won’t bring it in with hoppers; that would be useless. We will need lots of
water.
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‘There is one gorge, the deep valley with straight sides over there, which connects the
valley where the lake is with this deep circular valley here’, Ben Sommer explained,
pointing into the direction where the ravine was to be found. ‘The gorge ends quite close
to the shore of the lake’, he added.
‘That’s important’, the engineer stated. ‘Thus, I can assume, with my quiet conscience
sleeping in thunder, that establishing the required water supply will not face
insurmountable obstacles; literally. We will probably need a pipeline. An open channel
might do for parts of the way but I guess that we won’t make it without any pipeline.
Before we can get pipes here, we can make do with wooden tubes; hollowed out tree
trunks will serve well for the beginning. I remember having seen lots of green around here
when we came. So, may I safely suppose that there is sufficient timber?
‘Certainly’, Ben Sommer confirmed. ‘Lake Tasik Perak is surrounded with forests and
behind all these mountain ranges there are everywhere some valleys where more trees
grow. These are old and big, seventy to eighty meters high; and some even more. Their
trunks are mainly straight like the cord on a plummet.
‘That’s great’, Sherbetor was glad to know. ‘As I said, we might not have to build a
pipeline all along the whole way from the lake to here. We possibly can have an open
channel and guide the water into a reservoir somewhere above the ground level here.
Then, we would use hoses and decently pressure-proof pipes for the last stretch. On the
way we might have to bridge over some lower-laying ground waves or get the water with
pressure above some ridge. Overall, it should be fine.’
‘So, that water is all for washing gold, right?’ somebody asked.
‘You can also divert some for washing yourself’, Sherbetor joked. ‘And you may drink
some of it, too. But yes, you’re right. Most of the water will be for washing out gold. Gold
has the highest value and it is already concentrated by the forces of nature at the lowest
points of this valley. We won’t use much other mechanical power in the beginning. We
exploit the gold-containing sand here first. That will earn us enough to buy some more
equipment. Then, we can go for the solid silver and high-concentration silver ore, the
chlorargyrite that we have here. We will use hydraulic mining techniques for that matter
first; a form of mining that uses high-pressure jets of water to dislodge rock material and
to move sediment. In the placer mining we intend to use for of the gold here, the resulting
water-sediment slurry is to be directed through sluice boxes to remove the gold. We will
get the water from the Lake Karep Kisat through that gorge and redirected it into an evernarrowing channel, then through large hoses, and out through a big hard-matter nozzle;
that nozzle is what’s called a monitor. Later on we can get pumps here and use the high
pressure stream to wash entire hillsides through enormous sluices; where the rock allows
for this treatment. Where the rock is too hard and solid, we will need explosives to make
it compliant.’
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‘That’s all right but with all the water coming in here, we need a drain to discharge all the
water again’, the practical Hely Mor raised an objection. ‘We can’t carry the water out
with buckets and hoppers!’
‘Yes, we do need a drain’, Sherbetor admitted. ‘This deep circular valley here had none; as
far as I can see. Evaporation might do for the very beginning till we will have found
enough gold to buy more equipment. But soon our operations will be so big that we will
have to pump the water out of this depression here. When we approached from space it
looked as if there was a canyon over there to the other side. We will have to pump the
water up the cliffs and over to the anticline there; from that point onward it will run down
the other side again on its own. That canyon will care it away. But first I should see how
the water supply is to be done. I must inspect that gorge connecting our round valley here
with the lake there. Then I can finally tell you with certainty if and how everything can be
done. Soon, we will need machines. We can buy them with the gold that we will find here
and get them here in two months’ time. That should be no issue. But there are two other
questions that worry me’, the engineer declared.
‘Which questions?’
‘First, it’s the Varanoide Kudesh tribals. Aren’t they mad at us? Once we’re sitting here,
we will be easy prey for them and they are in the overwhelming majority. As long as we
can move, we are protected to some degree by not being where they are; or where they
are looking for us. But here, they can just all convene and give us hell.’
‘We have two befriended Varanoide chieftains among us, Achesh Akanem and Karumir
Marudy, and we also have their warriors who are many and who are veritable defence
forces, if required’, Ben Sommer assuaged. Those two chieftains, Vin Lakes and me, we
are on good terms with several other Varanoide tribes roaming around in this part of the
galaxy. We shall be able to keep those good relations up and to conclude arrangements
with them to further out mutual benefit.’
‘Well, if you are so confident that you can manage those external relations, I should be
content with your assertions’, Sherbetor endorsed Sommer’s declaration. ‘But whose
property is this planet now? Whom does Tasik Perak belong to?
‘To my knowledge, there is no territorial claim to Tasik Perak’, Ben Sommer replied.
‘Different Varanoide tribes keep coming and going and a perhaps a handful of human
adventurers have reached this place, too. Seb Melch, Walterson, Duref’s father Burek and
my humble self being the only ones I know by name and for sure. We must register our
claim with some big state and request accession to that state so that we are protected
against violent competitors, gangsters, and even roaming tribes. We saw how many
bandits assembled at their grand crime fair on Wasage Ankyun. We are just a few hundred
but we could face several hundred thousand of villains. It’s inevitable that words will
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spread, letting people know about this place. We just can’t prevent it from gaining fame.
So, we best play safe and take care of our cover and align with some big state.’
‘But that will cost a lot!’
‘Sure, it will cost a lot’, conceded Ben Sommer. ‘I suppose it will cost about one third of
our revenue because once we gained accession we have to pay tax. But on the other hand,
if we try to take care of our security ourselves, then we have to spend a lot, too’, he
demurred. ‘How many mercenaries should we hire? Can we trust them? How much
weapons should we buy? If we are part of a big state, that jurisdiction’s military will keep
up regular patrols or even set up a post here, depending on our tax payment, and in times
of heightened danger, there will be as much military support as it takes to repulse all
gangsters and such straying menaces as unprovoked enraged bands of warriors.’
‘That’s reasonable!’
‘All right’, Ben Sommer concluded the discussion. ‘Let’s now see how the water supply can
be established. We’ll just take the hoppers and fly through that gorge towards Lake Karep
Kisat. Then you can see the landscape profile closely and come to better conclusions’, he
said to Sherbetor. ‘We must prepare for a confrontation with ranting Kudesh warriors!’ he
called out to the other. ‘Let’s get going!’
The cracks in the rock where the silver had been were quickly stuffed with debris again
and the metalliferous vein with the chlorargyrite was covered with sand and gravel. Then,
the adventurers returned to their hoppers and they all followed Ben Sommer, flying
through the gorge connecting the dry valley with the precious metals deposits and the
valley where Lake Karep Kisat was. The gorge was soon reached and the hoppers were
carefully piloted through it; slowly and at low altitude, to let the engineer regard the
condition and determine how best to cope with it; and use it to the adventurers
advantage.
It was apparent that massive amounts of water had earlier rushed through that gorge. The
effects were visible everywhere. Yet by now, the ravine was entirely dry and there was no
visible form of life anywhere; no gran, not bush, no tree, no cactus, nothing. When the
adventurers had come through the deep gorge, Sherbetor declared that it should be
comparatively easy to establish the required water supply. ‘Nature is friendly to our
common endeavour’, he added, pleased and delighted by what he had discovered.
The adventurers were on a flat summit mount near the shore of Lake Karep Kisat. The
location had steep walls on three sides and a slightly slanting slope on the fourth; which
equally serves as the hill’s top. The eminence looked like an over-size ashlar block of stone,
thrown there by a colossus beyond imagination. The travellers had parked their hoppers
on the slanting plane that formed the roof of that eminence. From here, they could see
the lake to the north with its sole island in the middle. The hill that the adventurers stood
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on touched the waters with one of its steep sides. The cliff was at least three hundred
meters high, reaching straight up from the soft waves of the lake to the sharp edge at its
top. To the south, the ashlar-formed elevation reached the foothills of the grand
mountains surrounding the valley of the lake. It was a good place to land hoppers but it
turned out to be not such a great place for prolonged resistance. The adventurers
inspected it and found no caves nor water, no shelter nor any means of sustenance. Its
vegetation consisted of dense grass on its top. Its advantage rested with its inaccessibility
from three sides. The place looked secluded and lonesome, not even visited by many
animals, let alone people.
It was Kof Sakay who found out the unpleasant way that this mountain wasn’t as secluded
and lonesome as it appeared at first glance. The grass on the top slate was high and at the
lower stretched, some bushes grew. Kof Sakay had parked his heavy hopper on a bare
spot of rock that was at the lowest end of the lot. Unmotivated to walk up, when
everybody was fanning out to inspect the place, he had gone downward. The acclivity was
not steep, perhaps six to eight percent, and he knew that to go back to his machine he had
to walk up again. Yet, he had chosen to have a look at these bushed; maybe motivated by
his penchant for botany; especially anything phytological that resulted ultimately in food
supply for him. Thus, Kof Sakay ambled toward those low bushed. When he reached them
he looked for any fruits that they might bear and also broke off a twig to see if perhaps it
serves as source of water, as some plants contain much water inside, which will run out if
parts are broken off.
When Kof Sakay was so engrossed in his exploration for alimental sustentation, two
Varanoides jumped out from the bushes, grabbed him before he could shout, stuffed a
bunch of leaves in his mouth and tore him backward into the vegetation. They held him
tight like a bench vice and he could not even bite because they had stuffed that bittertasting bunch of leaves into his mouth. They knew what they were doing. Maybe one of
them had been bitten by a human before. The wounds don’t heal well.
Kof Sakay saw a third Varanoide scurrying around, scouting if anyone of the adventurers
had perceived anything. The third red-scaled alien came back after about two minutes and
all three of them carried the stocky man away, further down the slanting slope, which was
overgrown with low bushes from the place of his abduction downward. He was hauled
along for approximately fifteen minutes. Then, the Varanoides set him on the ground and
looked at him with an expression that Kof Sakay interpreted as hostile and fierce. For a
while, the aliens just looked at their captive. It was as if they did not know what to do.
‘Who’, one of them finally hissed. At least that was the word that Kof Sakay understood.
‘My name is Kof Sakay’, he answered.
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The Varanoides looked as if that meant anything to them. ‘Else who’, the red-scaled alien
who did the little talking that was being done, hissed.
Kof Sakay answered as if that phrase meant ‘Who else is with you’. He named Achesh
Akanem, Karumir Marudy, Ben Sommer, and Vin Lakes.
In that very same moment, those just-named persons broke through the bushes and were
around the group, together with a large number of other travellers, both red-scaled aliens
and humans. They pointed with guns at the Varanoides who had captured Kof Sakay.
After all, he adventurers had realised that one of them was missing. Karumir Marudy had
discovered and followed the traces and the group could quickly catch up with the
abductors and surround them.
Those three hijackers were very relaxed. Kof Sakay was full of astonishment for their cool
and relaxed attitude. After all, they were now in his position and when he was in the same
position that they were in now, he did not feel cool and relaxed; he felt very anxious.
‘The great chieftain of the Cuhutis Imutay’, one of the three Varanoides exclaimed in his
own language, looking at Karumir Marudy with friendly attention; if that was to be
distinguished in any individual of his race at all; given that his faces was covered in red
scales and did hardly move at all. ‘This gentleman apparently belongs to your group and
thus he is our friend’, this Varanoide continued to say, still addressing Karumir Marudy
only. ‘We took him along because we did not know if the group he belongs to if friend or
foe’ he explained. ‘But as you are with them, they must be our friends for you are the
great chieftain Karumir Marudy of the Cuhutis Imutay.’
‘You belong to the honourable and brave warriors of the Denudatu tribe’, Karumir
Marudy, the great chieftain of the Cuhutis Imutay Varanoides replied.
‘Yes, we are!’ the red-scaled aliens confirmed.
‘Who is the chieftain leading you’, Karumir Marudy wanted to know.
‘Tusicu Nitusasu’, the warriors responded.
The chieftain of the Cuhutis Imutay turned to his human companions, not all of whom
could understand the Varanoide language; and especially that particular dialect. ‘Tusicu
Nitusasu is well-known for his sharp sense of hearing; sharp even for our standards.’ Then,
he turned back to the three alien warriors. ‘Where is Tusicu Nitusasu?’ he enquired.
‘Down at the lake’, the three Denudatu Varanoides answered.
‘How many warriors are you have’, Karumir Marudy queried.
‘One hundred’, the aliens told him.
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‘Are there also warriors from other tribes here?’ the chieftain of the Cuhutis Imutay
continued with his questioning.
‘Not yet’, the Denudatu tribals declared. ‘But soon, more than two hundred warriors of
the Gimee will arrive to fight with us against the Kudesh’, they predicted. ‘We want to join
forces to take care of those marauding menaces.’
‘Watch out that they don’t deal with you as you intend to handle them’, Karumir Marudy
warned. ‘Did you establish more sentinels?’
‘We are the sentinels’, they responded. ‘We are all. There are not more. We did not
expect enemies and therefore we did not feel like positioning many guards.’
‘The Kudesh are probably coming your way; coming right here’, the chieftain of the
Cuhutis Imutay informed the Denudatu warriors, who were allies of his tribe; actually
subordinate allies, though he did not treat them like that. ‘There could be many more of
them coming than you might wish for.’ Then, Karumir Marudy asked for the lord of the
lake.
‘He is here, down there at the water shore’, the speaker of the tree Denudatu tribals said.
‘His son is also there.’
‘Please bring us to him’, the chieftain of the Cuhutis Imutay requested.
Everybody entered their hoppers and with the Denudatu tribal as their leaders, the trek
moved on toward the shore of the lake.
Lake Karep Kisat was embedded in a wonderful landscape. Natural bastions of rock,
reflecting the bright sunlight in rainbow of colours enclosed a valley of similar size to the
one where the precious metals’ deposits were found. Behind those bastions of immense
boulders row after row of mountains held their snow-covered head up, each one higher
than the previous, as if they wanted to have a glance of the beautiful lake they
surrounded. Almost up to the snow line, those towering mountains were not bald and
barren but covered with greenery. In the higher altitudes, there were meadows, at places
strewn with flowers to an extent that the flanks of the hills wore girdles and wreaths of
flowers like happy people on some beautiful tropical island. Those meadows and
flowerbeds merged into bush land and that descended into veritable jungles. In the
ravines, crevices, and clefts on the higher hill flanks, trees and bushed were protected
from the high altitude winds. Where those chasms were facing south, warmth from the
sun’s rays impounded and the trees and bushes had conquered some more elevation for
themselves, literally living on a higher level of existence. Around the lake, the jungle was
as dense as a forest could only be, reaching tight to the shore at most places and leaving
just a little stretch of grass in those parts of the banks where the trees had been too shy of
the water to advance right to the lake’s face.
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From the hoppers the adventurers saw the little island in the middle of the lake more
closely than from the brick-shaped mountain at its shore. The island was right in the
middle of the lake and in the middle of the island was a small house, apparently made of
precisely hewn blocks of rock; no wall joints were to be seen. Climbing plants had already
covered it half, anyway. There were a couple of small boats fastened to a rudimentary
pier. There was some field looking like a vegetable garden. A few hoppers parked on the
island and a few tents had been pitched there, too.
By now, the wind that had earlier created fine ripples on the water had ceased to blow
and the lake was resting there, flat and even and shiny, as if it consisted of mercury. The
trees’ crowns and the mountains’ peaks were reflecting in that stunning mirror.
Near the tents, about one hundred Varanoides were to be seen; those were the Denudatu
to whom the three warriors belonged whom the adventurers had encountered earlier.
Those Denudatu became quite excited when they saw so many hoppers coming their way.
Once they realised that the machines of their scouts were leading the trek, they soon
calmed down again. Just before the adventurers reached the place, two calm Varanoides
walked out of the building, moving with upright spines, exuding a majestic aura.
Karumir Marudy was the first among the travellers to greet those two. ‘Mutulupamu
Huwuyu’, he addressed the bigger and seemingly older of the two. ‘Mutulupamu
Chomusu’ he called the other one. ‘My dear friends! How glad I am to see you again!’
Those two Varanoides were the same whom Ben Sommer and Tom Grand had already
noticed on the giant spaceship Ostia, when they came across Lom Claybrinck and his
gangsters. Seb Melch and Walterson also knew those two red-scaled aliens from earlier
days.
‘Karumir Marudy, the great chieftain of the Cuhutis Imutay is most welcome’, the bigger
of the majestic Varanoides responded. ‘Wherever you come, your presence brings joy to
the hearts.’ Then, he turned to Ben Sommer and Vin Lakes. ‘Be welcome, my friends,
whom I know since our common adventures.’ Seb Melch also received a warm welcome.
The welcoming went on and everybody who knew someone in the respective other group
greeted him. Then, those who did not know each other were introduced; or introduced
themselves when there was nobody else of common acquaintance to take that over.
After most of that fairly protracted ceremonial welcoming and introducing had already
taken place, Tusicu Nitusasu, the chieftain of the Denudatu tribe Varanoides came out of
the building. He had expected to be called and then revered at least a little; after all, he
was a chieftain, too, an important person who had something to say: And he would not
only say something, it would also be done. His will was command for many; for his tribe at
least. There, he thought, he was worthy of particular respected and admiration, deserved
to be distinguished among the others. But no, nothing of that kind happened. It was, as if
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the others had forgotten him. Was he of no importance to them? Did they have so much
more pressing business to take care of that they could truly afford to neglect him?
Thus, after having waited inside the building for long enough and getting bored over it,
Tusicu Nitusasu decided that it was time to mingle with the newcomers and calm his
curiosity by feeding it with the news that those travellers brought. He was very astonished
about the arrival of that many strangers, especially of humans. He considered it way
below his dignity to show that feeling of surprise and curiosity, though. Thus, he
pretended to accept their presence as something entirely ordinary, not even worth the
special attention of a chieftain. To make that point, he remained away from the crowd
and slowly looked around and then directed his glance toward the far mountains as if
there was anything of interest happening there, and not here. He ostentatiously exhibited
his disinterest, pretending to have nothing whatsoever to do with all that excitement
going on around him.
That self-chosen splendid isolation did not last long, though. Seb Melch came to the great
chieftain of the Denudatu and right away addressed his words at the Varanoide.
‘Greetings to you, my dear Tusicu Nitusasu. Why don’t you join all of us? Don’t you want
to welcome all of the adventurers?’
Chieftain Tusicu Nitusasu uttered something incomprehensible in his dialect.
‘Come on’, Seb Melch encouraged the tribal leader. ‘I know quite well that you speak
standard Varanoide excellently. You even have a good command of the common human
lingua franca. Unfortunately, I did not learn your dialect.’
Again, Chieftain Tusicu Nitusasu murmured some unintelligible sounds.
‘Don’t dissimulate’, Seb Melch insisted. ‘As I told you, I know perfectly well that you
understand me.’
‘No’, the Denudatu leader insisted.
‘Oh, really?’ Seb Melch exclaimed with pretended perplexed puzzlement. ‘You don’t know
me anymore?’
‘No’, Tusicu Nitusasu maintained firmly.
‘You have never ever seen me before?’ the criminalist asked interrogatingly.
‘No’ the tribal chieftain again insisted.
‘Remember!’ Seb Melch demanded. ‘You must remember me!’
‘No’, the leader of the Denudatu purported.
‘We met in Station Resilience on the planet of the same name’, the criminalist declared.
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‘No!’
‘Keep your no to yourself’, Seb Melch requested. ‘I can prove that I am right. We were
three humans and eleven Varanoides. We played cards and we drank. The humans drank
and the Varanoides, who don’t consume alcohol, chewed these funny leaves that you
folks sometimes use. At the end, everybody needed sleep badly. The Varanoides slept the
whole afternoon and the subsequent night. Can you remember, mate?’
‘No!’
‘Well, at least you conform with your constant no-saying that you are getting what I am
telling you’, the criminalist claimed. ‘That’s evidence enough that you understand me and
so I will continue to report that piece of history to you. We human folks also laid down. It
was in the same shack as the Varanoides with whom we had plaid cards. There was no
other space for having a rest. When we human folks woke up, the Varanoides were gone.
Do you remember where they went?’
‘No!’
‘It is of no interest where they went’, Seb Melch said. ‘Unfortunately, my rifle went with
them. It was a gun with my name engraved on its barrel. And guess what, here on the
barrel of the rifle that you carry, my name is engraved. Do you have any idea how that
could have happened?’
‘No!’
‘I also had a bag. It was a nice bag, of good quality and with some individual embroidery
including, again, my name’, the criminalist continued to tell. And guess what, I see my
name stitched in precisely the same way on the bag that you carry. Now, that’s a
wondrous coincidence, isn’t it? Do you have any idea how my name got to be stitched on
this bag that you hold?’
‘No!’
‘At least I do have a fairly good idea of how my rifle got into your hand and how my bag
got onto your back’, Seb Melch retorted. ‘As a reputed, honourable chieftain you only
carry things that you rightfully got into his possession. Things that he just found, or that
somehow disappeared out of the rightful possession of somebody else are below the
dignity of a grand chieftain to call his property. You must be thoroughly contemptuous of
these goods. Let me help you and deliver you from those burdens. Out of our old
friendship I would take it upon me to relieve you from this disgracefulness opprobrium
lest others may dispraise your character with ignominy.’
Tusicu Nitusasu was so surprised by that speech and his brain was still so busy sorting out
everything that Seb Melch hat just mentioned that the Denudatu chieftain missed out on
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putting up any resistance to the criminalist taking away the rifle and the bag. But just a
moment later, that status of confusion was overcome by the strong will to resist and take
those things again from Seb Melch. The criminalist had already gone a few steps but the
Varanoide chieftain overtook him swiftly. ‘Stop’, Tusicu Nitusasu said in pretty much
flawless standard human lingua franca. ‘Give them back to me!’
‘No!’ was no upon Seb Melch to state.
‘This rifle is mine!’ Tusicu Nitusasu demanded.
‘No!’ the criminalist gladly triumphed.
‘The bag is mine, too!’ the Denudatu chieftain claimed.
‘No!’ Seb Melch went strong.
‘You are a thief’, Tusicu Nitusasu hissed, full of anger.
‘Says who?’ the criminalist responded sarcastically.
‘Give them back to me or I will force you!’ the Denudatu chieftain threatened.
‘No!’ Seb Melch replied, mimicking the other one’s earlier behaviour.
That was too much for Tusicu Nitusasu to bear. He flashed his claws and appeared ready
to jump at the criminalist. Anyone not familiar with Seb Melch was to assume that a
bloody fight for life was inevitable, but the criminalist just laughed instead.
‘Now, I am called the thief of my own personal property! How can you believe this to be
possible? But please, let us not argue. You are Tusicu Nitusasu and I know you; and you
remember me well. Just admit the truth and you may keep what you have taken earlier.
After all, I replaced the stuff soon after the incident. So, tell me frankly, do you remember
me?’
‘Yes’, the red-scaled alien replied short and sweet.
‘And you were with me in Station Resilience on the planet with the same name?’ Seb
Melch asked for confirmation.
‘Yes’, Tusicu Nitusasu acknowledged.
‘And did you chew those funny leaves that you folks sometimes chew and that make you
do funny things and behave in funny ways?’ the criminalist enquired, opening a door for
the other one to help him safe his face.
‘Yes’, the Denudatu chieftain attested.
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‘And then you disappeared together with my rifle and my bag? Seb Melch requested
reconfirmation.
‘Yes’, Tusicu Nitusasu corroborate the statement.
‘Then, you should have rife and bag again’, the criminalist announced and handed both
things over to the Varanoide warrior. ‘And here is my hand on it! Let’s shake hands and
let’s make friends again for we can achieve so much more through cooperation than by
feud. But talk to me in standard language, either common Varanoide or human lingua
franca, so that we can understand each other well. And remember that filching is nothing
that friends do to each other!’
Tusicu Nitusasu knew well the human tradition of shaking hands to conclude a deal. When
Seb Melch reached out to him, he took the man’s hand into his clawed paw and shook it
the customary way. Then, the criminalist handed over the rifle and the bag to the
Varanoide chieftain, presenting them formally as gifts. The red-scaled alien took them and
made an entirely straight face; which was a piece of cake for him as Varanoides naturally
had no anatomic basis for any much facial expression at all. They anyway looked the same
all the time; just their body language gave indications about their feelings; and even that
usually was hard to recognizable at all.
‘My human companion Seb Melch is my great friend’, Tusicu Nitusasu said with the
utmost of friendliness in his voice, that his command of the human lingua franca enabled
him to express. ‘Seb Melch knows what is right! He found the rifle and the bag with me
and he handed them over to me again. Therefore, Seb Melch is my friend and a friend of
the whole Denudatu tribe and I shall be grateful and my tribe will be deeply appreciative
for the gratitude.’
‘Yes, my friend’, Seb Melch answered. ‘Tusicu Nitusasu is my astute and cunny friend. And
soon, you will know how deep our friendship really is because if I and my companions had
not come here, you and your warriors were in deep danger of losing your life; most
probably most shortly!’
‘We should lose our lives without you’, the tribal chieftain was surprised. ‘Who shall take
our lives?’
‘The Kudesh’, the criminalist replied briefly.
‘They will not come. They are fleeing’, the red-scaled alien asserted. ‘The Gimee defeated
them and we will join the Gimee to loot some good haul and settle old scores.’
‘I am sorry having to confront you with the dire facts of miscreant reality’, Seb Melch
contradicted him. ‘As a matter of fact, right the opposite is correct.’
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‘But you brought several chieftains of the Kudesh as bound captives along with you’,
Tusicu Nitusasu interrupted full of astonishment. ‘They must have been vanquished.’
‘Oh, those we captured here and there when an opportunity seemed fair’, Seb Melch
declared. ‘They did not look out, were over-confident, kept no diligent perimeter security,
had themselves fooled like little children; the usual stuff’, he boasted with the apparent
demeanour of the utmost humility. It was false modesty, of course, but it served its
purpose well, much better than outright verbal boasting would. ‘We captured those
chieftains on our own account, for our own benefit, so that we can use them as barter in
case of need and as collateral for our security’, Seb Melch detailed. ‘Whether that works
or not remains to be seen. The Kudesh must have chosen new leaders and continue
striding on their war path under those new chieftains’ guidance. That’s speculation, of
course, but the fact remains that they are pursuing the Gimee, who were severely beaten.
There was a big battle on planet Lemuba Rusa; the Gimee attacked but the surprise
assault did not work out well for them, they could not advance fast enough, the Kudesh
had time to re-organise and strike back and they made it and won the day. The Gimee
were ignominiously drubbed and just made it out of there. The Kudesh are pursuing them.
Because the Gimee use planet Tasik Perak as retreat and are coming here now, they
Kudesh will follow them here, too. In fact, we’re expecting them to arrive within a few
hours. We firmly intend to make preparations for our defence.’ Seb Melch pointed toward
some other adventurers. ‘Just look over there’, he pointed the chieftain’s attention
towards a small group of people. ‘They are already busy with those preparations.’
‘Oh’, Tusicu Nitusasu uttered. His astonishment took possession of him for a moment.
Fate had switched around and turned him from predator to prey. An instant later, he had
himself under full control again. After all, he was a chieftain and used to analysing rapidly
changing situations and deciding on taking action under time pressure in serious
circumstances.
Some other warriors of the Denudatu tribe had realised that something was unusual and
came to find out what was going on. The Varanoides generally had excellent senses and
those standing in the vicinity certainly had understood some part of what Seb Melch had
told.
‘Can it be real?’ they now asked. ‘Does this strange human fellow speak the truth?’
‘Yes, it is unfortunately true’, Karumir Marudy interjected. He had also come to see if his
presence was needed when he had observed Seb Melch and Tusicu Nitusasu to have their
serious conversation. Karumir Marudy was known and well-respected by the Denudatu
for they knew him to be the great chieftain of the Cuhutis Imutay tribe. ‘We'll tell you
everything in detail, but only after we have verified that we cannot be surprised by the
enemy. Their appearance is to be expected every moment.’ He looked around, saw Vin
Lakes, Ben Sommer, Tom Grand, Walterson, Ed Arn, and others already busy with
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preparations for the defence. ‘You best join some groups and see where you can support
our common effort’, he suggested. ‘Or, you quickly come to an arrangement with the
others what arrangements they will take care of and then you do what remains to be
done’, he offered an alternative. ‘We have this island here and we must make it difficult
for the Kudesh to attack us here. Their landing on our island must be prevented. So, we
need covered and camouflaged positions to turn this island into our stronghold. Around
the lake, there are also some places that we need to secure in order to prevail here. If we
keep those places, we will make it much harder for the Kudesh to attack us.’
Mutulupamu Huwuyu, the older of the two Varanoides whom Ben Sommer had seen first
on the spaceship Ostia, was giving advice to the leaders of the adventurers concerning the
suitability of several locations for defensive positions. The Kudesh were expected to arrive
with hoppers. It was known that some of their machines had externally attached weapons.
With these, the Kudesh could shoot when still in the air. That situation resulted in two
demands. First, the defenders had to find and create positions where they were safe from
such aerial strafing. The second tactical requirement was to hinder the hoppers of the
hostiles from landing. The machines were never meant to be equipment for war and
offered only very limited resistance to projectiles shot at them. A hopper still in the air
was a frail target; much more vulnerable than a sniper hiding between boulders of solid
rock, thick logs of wood; or even piled-up sandbags, tree trunks or bulky branches. The
Kudesh were not expected to hover around long once they realised that landing was
impeded.
Once landing of the enemies on the island in the middle of Lake Karep Kisat an in the
vicinity was successfully averted, the Kudesh warriors were supposed to get down outside
the range of the defenders’ weapons and approach by foot. That was to be severely
aggravated and if possible entirely hindered, too. The valley with Lake Karep Kisat was
surrounded by high mountains and accessible by foot only through two gorges; one in the
north and one in the south. The plan for the defence of lake and valley that Mutulupamu
Huwuyu and the leaders of the adventurers agreed on thus consisted of blocking the
landing possibilities on the island an in the valley and the access routes for pedestrian
assaults through the two gorges. The island was to serve as the ultimate stronghold; like a
castle keep in ancient times. More than a dozen other places were occupied, too.
Appropriate emplacements were created in suitable positions. Given the limited time and
choice of construction materials available and the lack of heavy equipment to move earth,
stones, and timber, the result was astounding.
Ed Arn distinguished himself with competency and skills at the planning and
implementation of the defensive measures. Several of the most experienced adventurers
supposed Ed Arn to be a former military man; possibly having reached the rank of Captain
or Colonel. As he never mentioned anything like that, though, and in fact never spoke
about any event at all that dated back prior to his meeting with the adventurers, the
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others felt that he did not want to be asked about it and they respected that notion and
left him alone with his foretime. However he had come to know what he knew about
military matters and wherever he got it from did not change anything about the
usefulness his skills and knowledge carried for the adventurers.
The Denudatu warriors, who had spent already several days at Lake Karep Kisat
volunteered to provide the forces blocking the two gorges leading to the valley and to
occupy several other positions that required better knowledge of the territory. Because
one of these two ravines was in the vicinity of several good landing places for hoppers
that also needed to be secured and defended, Kof Sakay, Tuvat Crown, Hely Mor, and Seb
Melch, all of them splendid marksmen and in the possession of excellent high-velocity,
long-range projectile rifles, joined the group of Varanoides who were to close off that
route.
They took their hoppers and moved over to the narrow canyon. The Denudatu tribals
went to the place where the gorge was narrowest and where hollows and protrusions of
the rock awarded many good opportunities for shelter and ambuscade. The hoppers were
parked under overhanging rock, amid dense woods, in pits, and disguised carefully; all in
places closer to the lake, because the enemy was expected to come from the other side.
The humans also took positions closer to the lake-side of the gorge, defending the suitable
landing places lest the Kudesh warriors could touch ground behind the defenders, skirt the
road-blocks and attack them from behind; or right away turn their assault to the valley.
Because the time of arrival of the Kudesh warriors was only estimated, not known, and
the duration of the ensuing fight was not foreseeable either, the defenders took supplies
of food and water with them and also thick coats to make it well through cold nights, in
case they had to maintain their positions for that long.
Just before leaving, Mutulupamu Chomusu, the younger one of the two majestic
Varanoides who had their fixed abode here at Lake Karep Kisat, declared that he would
join the team blocking this one gorge, too. As he knew the region perfectly well, better
than anyone else, he was highly welcome. He also confirmed again that the valley was
accessible by foot only through those two deep and narrow canyons.
There was no opportunity for getting bored, because as soon as the defensive positions
had all been established and occupied according to the plan, the expected assault of the
Kudesh warriors took place. Their hoppers were multitudinous like the snowflakes in a
winter of rich precipitation and they came gliding down from the sky equally tame as
these; as if the victory was already theirs and they had nothing to fear. That behaviour
was not entirely owed to imprudent over-confidence or even outright stupidity, though,
but to the sparsity of good landing spots for such a large armada of space-faring vehicles.
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Once the Kudesh hoppers came in reach of the defenders’ weapons, the allied
adventurers started shooting projectiles at the invaders. Within the first few moments,
already numerous machines were hit and had to crash-land; or just fell down. The luckier
ones dropped into the lake or were decelerated by the trees’ branches dense foliage. The
unluckier ones were left with no choice between smashing onto a rock and crashing into a
hard place. The poor creatures’ losses were tremendous. They fell like leaves in autumn;
just harder and more painful. The while it took for Kudesh tribals to realise what was
going on already claimed disastrous sacrifices. Once they understood the situation they
had got themselves into, they immediately turned around to escape it again. Of course,
those who were already at lower altitude realised earlier the dimension of their plight and
turned to flight at first, thus moving upward while their yet un-suspecting companions
were still on their descent. Those opposing movements resulted in yet more painful
incidents, turning the event into an even more direful experience. When all the victims
who had to succumb were finally downed, the dreadful chaos of the botched attack
turned into the appalling disorder of distraught flight in frantic desperation.
Sometime after the brutal repulsion of the Kudesh attack, about a quarter of an hour later,
a single hopper slowly approached the positions of Seb Melch, Mutulupamu Chomusu,
and their allied Denudatu warriors. The machine was slowly and carefully piloted through
the gorge. Had not the defenders expected the Kudesh to try approaching the lake via that
route? Now, one vehicle came, not many tribal warriors on foot but a single individual in a
hovering hopper. The defenders aimed at him and were ready to expedite him to the
happy hunting ground of the afterlife, when Mutulupamu Chomusu signalled them to halt.
‘These are Gimee colours’, he stated, looking through his binocular. ‘There are Gimee
colours on the hopper’, he repeated. ‘It’s just one single machine. Let it come and see if
it’s a friend or fiendish foe in fancy masquerade trying to fool us.’
When the hopper came closer, it became apparent that the Varanoide inside also carried
Gimee colours; they were painted on his face and over his head and chest. He was flying
below the position of several defenders. Those threw gravel at his machine to make him
stop. The in-coming warrior realised what he was supposed to do and places his machine
on the ground. Then, he exited his hopper and looked around, raising his arms. The
defenders were hidden so well that he could not localise them, despite his sharp
Varanoide senses. He turned around one, keeping his paws up, to show that he was unarmed. It was visible that he was not only un-armed but also un-well, for he had sustained
several wounds. For human eyes, red Varanoide blood was usually difficult to recognise it
on red-scaled Varanoide skin, but this fellow was bleeding so much that even these could
see it.
From his position high up in the gorge, Mutulupamu Chomusu called down to the injured
alien warrior. The injured Varanoide looked up. The ravine carried sound further than it
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would travel in the wide open, but the canyon’s echo also made it difficult to locate its
origin. Realising that, Mutulupamu Chomusu showed himself to the other alien.
‘My brotherly friend!’ the wounded warrior exclaimed. ‘I am glad to see you’, he shouted
loud to cover the large distance and to be understood well. ‘Did the other Gimee already
arrive?’ he asked.
‘No!’ Mutulupamu Chomusu replied.
‘Then we are all lost!’ the insured creature proclaimed.
‘Wait’, Mutulupamu Chomusu prompted. ’I will come down’; he said and started
descending to the rocky bottom of the gorge.
When he had reached the lowest level of the ravine, Mutulupamu Chomusu asked the
wounded Varanoide warrior: ‘How can a member of the glorious Gimee tribe abandon the
field and admit defeat to surrender his fate into the arms of disreputable mercy, hoping
on the mercy of destiny; or worse, on the sympathy of the enemy?’
‘Our luck has left us; the universe has turned against us’, the wounded Varanoide warrior
replied. ‘The joyful felicity of good fortune is with the Kudesh now. We had assaulted
them on planet Lemuba Rusa to finish them off but our chieftains had lost their reason
and led bad and thus we were defeated thoroughly. We fled but the Kudesh followed us.
They pressed us hard all the way and plagued us with a ceaseless series of attacks all along
the way in hyperspace and on all planets where we rested. Yet, we could have maintained
our fall-back positions had not a great multitude of fresh warriors from their tribe joined
them. Now, they are four times more than we are and they pressurise us with the
ferocious importunity of their constant assaults.’
‘So, you are all lost?’ Mutulupamu Chomusu asked.
‘Almost’, the wounded Varanoide warrior replied. ‘Where I am coming from the battle
rages on. I was sent to call in support from Lake Karep Kisat for we thought that the
expected main relief force from our tribe has already reached there.’
‘Why did you not come directly to our place at the lake?’ Mutulupamu Chomusu wanted
to know.
‘When we came here, the Kudesh pestered us so severely that we had to make it down
anywhere on Tasik Perak lest we were destroyed already in space’, the injured Gimee
tribal reported. ‘The Kudesh have guns mounted to the outside of their hoppers and they
kept shooting at us, while we had not means to defend ourselves in outer space.
Therefore, we landed to fight back with our feet solidly on the firm ground. But because of
their high numeric superiority, we were defeated again, had to retreat, were pursued by
the enemy and confronted again. That’s what is happening now.’
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‘Calm down and have a rest’, Mutulupamu Chomusu advised the other alien. ‘Help will
come to your people’, he promised. ‘The Kudesh tried to approach the lake’s valley and
the island directly and we defeated them and caused them heavy losses. And here, we
have secured the canyon and the landing spots.’ With these words he turned around and
called out to his allies to show themselves.
The wounded Varanoide warrior felt new hope when the saw how many well-armed allies
he had in this place alone. The news of the battering that his Kudesh enemies had taken at
the lake’s valley sounded like music in his ears.
Mutulupamu Chomusu asked how far the other Gimee warriors were. He learned that it
would probably take about half an hour on foot to reach that place. He had an idea about
what to do but wanted to quickly confirm it with his allies. Therefore, he called Hely Mor
and one senior warrior of the allied Denudatu to come and join him and the injured Gimee
in the rock bottom ground of the gorge.
‘We should call in support from the lake’s valley’, Mutulupamu Chomusu suggested.
‘Some of us remain here to keep up our defensive positions. The others advance through
the ravine to help the hard-pressed Gimee escape to here. This location here is the ideal
place for a stronghold in the canyon. If the Gimee manage to fall back to our emplacement
here, we can afford them some rest, they can eat and drink and treat their wounds
provisionally’, Mutulupamu Chomusu explained his plan. Because he was not a
commander and his allies were no soldiers who had to follow his orders, he had to ask
them for their opinion. As not everybody could be asked, he had only called those closest
to his standing point to join him for the consultation. None of them had any objection and
they all agreed to follow through the tactics just like Mutulupamu Chomusu had
expounded them.
Hely Mor and the Denudatu Varanoide called out to their people in their respective
language to explain what was to be done. Then, they pointed out who would follow them
and who should remain. Those defenders who were positioned higher up in the canyon
and those securing the landing places were to remain as their way down and back up was
too long and thus would take too much time.
The others, those who formed the relieve force for the hard pressed Gimee warriors,
rushed forward through the ravine. They reached the place where the battle raged. The
Gimee seemed to be short on ammunition as they were shooting only after aiming very
well and when they felt certain to hit their target. Had the Kudesh understood that
situation and had they been less afraid to lose their hoppers, they could have mounted
their vehicles and flown over the Gimee to attack them from behind, too; and even from
above. Given the beleaguered warriors’ shortage of ammunition, such a bold and daring
assault would likely have succeeded. They did not attempt it, though, and preferred to
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shoot over lots of projectiles from well-covered positions. That involved much less
personal risk.
With the advent of support, the situation changed. Hely Mor and Mutulupamu Chomusu
both had excellent long-range rifles capable of shooting high-velocity projectiles precisely
hitting the target. They also were in possession of abundant ammunition. The supporting
Denudatu warriors carried their own smaller-calibre guns and some few additional bigger
ones that the adventurers had given them; mainly with the purpose of defence against
approaching hoppers mind. The advantage of the smaller-calibre weapons was the greater
number of projectiles that a single individual could carry along. With the additional
fighters, the long-range rifles, and the great amount of ordnance that came to the
beleaguered Gimee’s help, the leave turned; or at least the balance stopped tilting ever
more in favour of the Kudesh. The attackers were effectively held up and the Gimee were
informed that they should retreat till the back-up emplacement.
Few individuals as they were, the adventurers managed to hold the Kudesh warriors up
effectively. Against skilled soldiers, the same tactics might not have worked but these
warriors were neither trained nor disciplined enough to go through with the obvious
mode of attack; getting into their hoppers and launch an assault from behind and above,
too. As warriors, they were motivated by revenge, reputation, the perspective of looting,
the tales to be told about them around the fireplace in decades to come. Winning under
the risk of losing their own life did not come to their mind as long as there was no benefit
of similar magnitude attached to that risk. Like almost all other Varanoide adventurers the
Kudesh used small hoppers, just big enough for one warrior alone. If any machines got
destroyed or severely damaged, the respective pilot was effectively grounded; he
wouldn’t get away from whatever planet he was on. Therefore, the red-scaled aliens
usually protected their vehicles like their own lives; because those hoppers were what
kept their lives going. Any warrior losing his space-flight machine was condemned to wait
and hope for somebody to bring him one. That may happen or not; there was no
guarantee. There was no guarantee either that he’d survive long enough on that foreign
planet where he was grounded. Medical care was another issue affecting the Varanoides.
These aliens were robust, resilient creatures who hardly ever fell sick. Therefore, they had
very few medical doctors. At war, though, injuries were sustained at much higher rates
than during peacetime. Getting any treatment then, even if it was only basic treatment,
was often difficult. Those two factors limited the aggressiveness of the Kudesh warriors’
pressure to advance a lot. Since the advent of the adventurers and their opening fire to
support the defenders effectively, the attackers kind of cooled down. They were
definitively still boiling of anger but momentarily they did not wish to wage storm attack
at the defenders. Rather, they seemed happier to just shoot lots of projectiles over to the
defenders.
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When the defenders increased their rate of fire and had zeroed in better on the assailants,
had gained a feeling for the habits of the involved Kudesh warriors and thus hit more
often, their eagerness to fight was reduced even further. Hely Mor possessed one of these
highly efficient computerized weapons that allowed the marksman to just point out the
target and let the gun do the rest. The rifle had telescopic sight with optical pattern
recognition technology that identified potential enemies. The shooter just had to choose
the appropriate target and the rifle di the rest. It came with self-adjusting tripod stands
that aligned it to the proper angle and direction. The projectile was ejected when the
automated system forecast the hit. Several of the accompanying Denudatu allies had
similar weapons, given to them by the human adventurers. These advances weapon
systems caused the largest number of casualties among the Kudesh warriors.
Those Kudesh tribals on the other hand used their customary small, light-weight, smallercalibre guns. For close quarter combat and up to a range of about two hundred meters,
these weapons were fully suitable. They consisted of few parts, were mechanically robust,
easy to maintain and repair, forgave even severe abuse, were resistant to dirt, un-harmed
by getting submerged under water, could be cleaned by just washing them, and shot lightweight ammunition that still killed even big animals; or other Varanoides, humans,
Aduhika or whoever needed to be fired at. In forests, swamps, about anywhere these
small, light-weight weapons had their advantages. Furthermore, they were comparatively
cheap. The Varanoide tribals in the free areas of the Galaxy cherished them.
Here and now, in this canyon, leading to the Lake Karep Kisat on planet Tasik Perak, those
arms were of limited use. Hely Mor and his associated Varanoide shooters could snipe at
will at the Kudesh warriors while staying safely out of reach of their enemies’ projectiles.
That allowed the imperilled Gimee tribals to retreat. Together, Hely Mor, Mutulupamu
Chomusu, the Denudatu warriors, and the beaten Gimee moved back through the gorge
till the narrowest spot, where the other allies were maintaining their emplacements.
About sixty Gimee finally reached the relative safety of the location inside that ravine
behind the positions of the defenders. Most of these five dozen fighters were wounded
and required the attention of a medic. Dressing material and other medical supplies were
also needed. Hopefully, they would come along with the relief force.
This relief force was already on the way. Karumir Marudy and Mutulupamu Huwuyu had
organised and dispatched a group of warriors to help out those blocking the entrance to
the valley. The old Varanoide was worried. ‘When a group of Gimee came through here
earlier, I had told them to wait till they had all come together and then move as united
force’, he told the chieftain of the Cuhutis Imutay tribe. ‘But the Gimee did not want to
wait. They assumed that the Kudesh had not yet convened their clans and sub-tribes yet
and they wanted to finish them off one by one. Now, the Gimee faced the fate that they
had intended for their long time hereditary enemy, the Kudesh.’ Those two tribes had
been at odds with each other over a host of issues, minor and major, for a long time. That
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the military of the allied Jurisdictions of the Beautiful Worlds had asked the Gimee for
assistance against the Kudesh because of the rampage that these had started after Lom
Claybrinck’s men had robbed them out, was just the spark to the short fuse of the loaded
gun. Like a chain reaction one incident lead to another till those two tribes were at each
other’s throat; like so many times before. Of all the different Varanoide tribes, the Gimee
and the Kudesh belonged to those that found it hardest to get along with each other.
Despite the galaxy’s non-negligible size, members of those two tribes managed to come
across each other every once in a while and then discovered reasons to fight at
astonishing ease.
‘The Gimee forces haven’t been entirely destroyed’, Ben Sommer objected. He had joined
the discussion between Karumir Marudy and Mutulupamu Huwuyu. Those spoke in a
Varanoide dialect that Ben Sommer understood very well, too.
‘Your opinion is respected because I respect you as a great adventurer’, the old Varanoide
replied. ‘But I am holding a different view. I know the regular meeting places of the
Kudesh. When the Gimee will try to escape from here towards the mainstay of their tribal
areas, they have to pass by several of them. They cannot land on those planets but they
can be attacked from there. They can’t remain in hyperspace for too long; and neither in
normal space. They will be hunted by ever more Kudesh warriors. Even if they managed to
escape to those areas where lots of small hyperspace streams go through, they will still be
imperilled because of the great number of their enemies. But as of now, most of the
Gimee who wanted to come here to Tasik Perak haven’t even arrived. Who came here just
is an advance party. If the majority of the Gimee will ever make it here, under these
circumstances, remains to be seen. Anyway, I would not be surprise to see thousands
more of Kudesh warriors coming here.’
‘What about you?’ Ben Sommer asked. ‘Will the Kudesh regard you as their enemy?’
‘Yes’, Mutulupamu Huwuyu answered. ‘Sadly so, but they will see me as their foe. I am
living in peace with their enemies and therefore, they will regard me as their antagonist.’
‘But then you are in great danger, too’, Ben Sommer stated.
‘No’, the old Varanoide gave back with an aura of the utmost certainty.
‘You feel safe because you have the Denudatu here for your protection and you
furthermore expect at least some Gimee to make it to planet Tasik Perak and defend you’,
Ben Sommer said, with the pronunciation undecided between question and statement.
‘I do not rely on any of them, neither the one nor the other, but I do entirely rely on my
own means’, Mutulupamu Huwuyu declared firmly.
‘Your calm composure is astounding under these circumstances’; Ben Sommer paid
deference to the seemingly imperturbable alien with the royal aura.
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‘I do not have any reason to fear even thousands more of the Kudesh warriors’,
Mutulupamu Huwuyu repeated with an expression of utter defiance. ‘I just don’t have any
rationale to fear them and so I am not frightened at all.’
‘I still don’t understand’, Ben Sommer acknowledge, silently wondering whether the old
Varanoide was trying to pull his leg, was losing his sanity, or spoke the truth which just
lacked an explanation for him to comprehend it, too.
‘I just have to move one hand to eliminate them all’, Mutulupamu Huwuyu asserted. ‘In
just a little instance they would all be creatures of the past.’
‘All of them?’ Ben Sommer was wondering.
‘You don’t believe me, do you’, the old Varanoide chuckled devilishly. ‘Yes, you cannot
understand. You human folks are intelligent creatures, smart, ingenious, resourceful, but
you won’t think of my means, none of you would!’ he claimed.
Ben Sommer looked at the old Varanoide, how he stood there, with his majestic aura, on
an island in the middle of Lake Karep Kisat on planet Tasik Perak. He glanced across the
silver surface of the waterbody, over to the mountains, up to the sky and then back to the
aged alien. ‘Your means, you say?’ Ben Sommer smiled. ‘You did not come up with them.
They are in your hands now, but you did not procure them by yourself. You may be left to
your own devices and remain safe by their use but those were bestowed upon you; and
you did not create them; inherited them probably.’
‘Who told you so’, Mutulupamu Huwuyu wanted to know.
‘Nobody needs to tell me that’, Ben Sommer replied. ‘It is a matter of logic. If you’re not
telling a story, and I doubt you do, then the question is where your reason for feeling so
safe originates from. If you have any means at your disposal powerful enough to provide
you with such reliable, trustworthy security, they are likely not your own, given your
situation; your being alone with just your son, for example.’
‘Now you are talking in riddles’, Mutulupamu Huwuyu gave back. ‘So, if you think to
understand why I do not fear the Kudesh warriors or any other enemies here, speak it out,
tell me!’ he requested.
‘Should I really reveal your big secret’, Ben Sommer asked for confirmation.
‘You can’t reveal my secret because you can’t know it’, the aged alien asserted. ‘This
secret is known to only two individuals in the whole universe, to me and my son. Nobody
else has any clue about it.’
‘And I’, Ben Sommer boasted. ‘I know it, too!’
‘So tell me, if you feel so secure of your intelligence’, Mutulupamu Huwuyu requested.
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‘You must possess the technology of an ancient civilisation’, the adventurer assumed.
‘Planet Tasik Perak was earlier inhabited by an old race we do not know much about. We
just know that they conducted mining operations here for a long time, for many centuries
or a couple of millennia. They must have left some equipment because you certainly did
not bring it here yourself. I haven’t seen anything technical that is bigger than a hopper
here, and the devices you are talking about must be huge. I haven’t seen any landing
platform around here, too; or actually any place where a spaceship could land and where
heavy equipment could be disembarked. That problem could be solved by freezing the
lake but I also don’t see any traces of fresh earth movements. All the vegetation here and
the ground look like hardly touched for centuries. Therefore, whatever is here must have
been here for considerable time. You must possess the means to use some ancient
defence technology to for your protection. The old Varanoide legends have it that Lake
Karep Kisat holds a great treasure. That civilisation that buried the treasure might have
taken care to shield and shelter it’, Ben Sommer speculated.
Despite the calm that was expected from a Varanoide warrior and especially from an old
chieftain, Mutulupamu Huwuyu expressed his astonishment. ‘That’s, amazing how you
came to that conclusion by observation and reasoning alone’, he acknowledged.
‘I’m just using my brain’, Ben Sommer replied unassumingly. ‘And thinking about it I guess
that you have not discovered the secrets of this place alone by yourself. I’s of course just a
conjecture based on probabilities but according to what Walterson, one of the men in our
group, has told, your father already knew about these secrets, didn’t he? And he passed
them on to you, I presume.’
‘Again your educated speculation leads you on the right path’, Mutulupamu Huwuyu
confirmed the logical guesswork. ‘My family has provided the guardians of that place for
long; for very long. The secrets have been passed on from one generation to the next and
with each succession, the one son most willing and able to take over the responsibility
then was introduced into the features and use of the defence system later remaining at
his disposal to fulfil his duty of protecting the treasure.’
‘What kinds of security systems are installed here?’ Ben Sommer enquired.
‘I cannot tell you that’, Mutulupamu Huwuyu answered.
‘You mean you may not tell me’, Ben Sommer guessed.
‘No, I actually cannot tell’, Mutulupamu Huwuyu disagreed. ‘And I cannot even tell you
how it is that I cannot tell it to you. That’s something that you just have to accept because
you have no means of changing it.’
‘When all that has been installed here to protect the treasure, then it must be of great
worth’, Ben Sommer suspected.
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‘For you and for the other adventurers the treasure has no value at all’, Mutulupamu
Huwuyu emended the wrongly concluded notion. ‘You might not even recognise the
treasure as such’, he added. ‘If nobody told you what the treasure actually was, you
would just pass it by and not notice it. The treasure has a tremendous cultic worth for
those who left it here. To anyone else, it does not mean anything. But I am unhappy about
the legends and rumours spreading ever further because they attract adventurers and
treasure hunter from all over the galaxy. I’d prefer them not to suspect any treasure to be
here.’
‘What kind of treasure is it’, Ben Sommer was curious to learn.
‘That is another information that I cannot give you’, Mutulupamu Huwuyu responded. ‘It
belongs to an old civilisation. The treasure was left here and it is to remain here, right in
place, till the ancient civilisation will come back und devote the treasure to its designated
use.’
‘Why didn’t they take it along?’ Ben Sommer asked.
‘You have experience the hyperspace streams in the vicinity’, Mutulupamu Huwuyu
replied with a statement. The adventurer was here on planet Tasik Perak and the only
way to arrive here was via hyperspace; thus, he had experienced the local currents. ‘They
are too narrow for spaceships, just hoppers or small space boats can get through to here.
A little freight boat is probably the biggest vessel that can make it here. To get anything
big to or from Tasik Perak, it has to be dismantled into many small portions and
distributed on a large number of vehicles. Many flights are needed to bring anything
substantial in and out of here.’
Ben Sommer nodded. What the old Varanoide chieftain had told him made sense. But
something else was in the mind of the experienced adventurer. ‘You said it is very easy for
you to use the defence installations for your protects; or rather for the safety of the
treasure. But you let us fight and risk out lives. You even let your son fight and risk his life.
What hinders you to have all those enemies destroyed, if it’s as easy as you mentioned?’
he asked.
‘My friends hinder me’, Mutulupamu Huwuyu answered. ‘The guardian of the treasure
and the designated guardian will not be harmed by the defence systems. That may not be
applicable to anyone else. I do not know how well these automated installations can
distinguish between friend and foe; I suspect that they are rather crude in their approach.
If you, the other adventurers, the Gimee, the Denudatu, and the few Cuhutis Imutay of
Karumir Marudy were not here, I could have the enemies vanquished as easy as I can turn
my hand. I am not doing it because I do not want to risk my friends’ lives. So, as long as
you can stand the onslaught of the enemies, you better do it. You are right that the life of
my son Mutulupamu Chomusu is at risk. I am hoping so much that my decision to wait
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with activating the defence measures so easily at my disposal will not later turn out to be
a wrong decision and thrust me into sorrowful remorse for the rest of my life.’
‘Thank you for sparing us’, Ben Sommer said honestly. ‘Let’s see what means I have at my
disposal to end that fight soon and to our contentment. We still have many of the most
famous chieftains of the Kudesh. It is time to use that pawn for negotiations. We have
captured and taken along those chieftains for this purpose. The Kudesh should accept to
leave us in peace to get their leaders back.’
‘Then we should keep these captives safely and make sure that no attempt to liberate can
be successful’, Mutulupamu Huwuyu mentioned.
Ben Sommer agreed. The captive chieftains were given food and fresh water and then
they were brought into the building that stood in the middle of the island. Above the
ground, that building consisted only of a two main rooms. One was currently used as
kitchen and the other one as bedroom. The architecture was simple in shape but
elaborate in its fine masonry, which featured precisely cut and shaped stones closely
fitted without mortar. The cyclopean polygonal masonry looked over-sized with its very
large stones. The extra-thick walls were of silver quartzite with its distinctive, typical look
of light, whitish grey and the fine, little crystals it consisted of. There was not much
furniture in either of them, mainly two hammocks in the bedroom and a big and thick
carpet in both.
‘That’s where the captives are supposed to be kept safely?’ Ben Sommer asked.
‘No! That would not be escape-proof and liberation-resistant enough, for the doors and
window shutters aren’t very solid’, Mutulupamu Huwuyu responded. The mentioned
pieces were of wood and looked strong enough to withstand the worst winter storms but
could not be expected to last long against a crow bar, especially when forced by a fully
grown, angry Varanoide. ‘There is still a much better place’, the aged alien indicated and
moved the carped away from one part of the room, rolling it up.
A kind of trapdoor was below the carpet. It was not very big but it took all the power of a
strong Varanoide to move it up for it was very thick. It consisted of wood, too. Once this
trapdoor was open, the view was free into a large, dark opening. A notched tree-trunk led
downward, serving as ladder.
Mutulupamu Huwuyu invited Ben Sommer to come down with him. They climbed into the
darkness and when the adventurer’s eye’s had accustomed to the sparse light, he found
himself to be in a large cavern, bigger than the structure above, which were actually not
much more than a roof lantern on a much bigger vault; albeit a fairly dark bonnet. Ben
Sommer could not see any further passage, neither horizontal nor vertical, though he
suspected there to be at least one.
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The cavernous hall was big enough to contain sufficient oxygen for the captives
respiration for a long time, but just to make sure the chieftains serving as collateral
remained alive and thus of value for the intended barter, Ben Sommer asked about the air
interchanged in the dome-like structure.
‘That has been taken care off’, Mutulupamu Huwuyu replied. ‘Then ancient masters
creating that edifice knew quite well what they were doing. ‘It should serve well as safe
prison, don’t you think?’ he asked the adventurer.
At first glance, it looked all safe and sound, but as Ben Sommer suspected further
passages, he asked for them. The captive chieftains, endowed with ample time to search
for it and vested with their sharp Varanoide senses might well find an escape route where
he had discovered nothing within the available short span of time. Therefore, Sommer
asked about it. He received the response that he didn’t need to worry about that theoretic
possibility. Then, they moved up again and the captive tribal chieftains were sent down.
In the meantime, the relief force for the combined alliance of adventurers and Varanoides
blocking the beleaguered access to the lakes’ valley in the deep gorge had arrived at that
narrowest stretch that suited so well for the blockade. They arrived just in time for the
next wave of attack that the Kudesh warriors staged. Those had not seen the additional
support arriving and thought they were facing only a comparatively small number of
defenders. Not fully aware of their tactical situation, their leaders had quickly debated the
situation and come to the conclusion that a determined attack could force the access way
open for them. The conclusion was wrong, even if no support had arrived. This narrow
ravine was effectively to be shut for long by just very few defenders; even a single sniper
could hold up an army for hours here. History knew examples of a single shooter killing
more than two hundred enemies over the course of several hours in even less extreme
circumstances. The location here in this gorge was very favourable for the defenders and
an unabridged nightmare for the attackers, though these did not comprehend their
situation well enough to draw the right conclusions. They tried to force their way and,
believing they had a chance to break through, staged an assault of tremendous
vehemence. That resulted, of course, in terrible losses on their side.
Those defenders who held advanced rifles with sophisticated automated barrel-guidance
technology in their possession tried to shoot off projectiles that were aimed at wounding
their Kudesh enemies, not killing them. That method was not adopted out of mercy but
for sake of distracting the largest possible number of hostile fighters from the battlefield.
A dead body means one warrior less but a severely wounded fighter will in average divert
four others from the combat, because the seriously injured casualty needs care. Given the
numeric advantage was on the side of the attackers, the defenders used each and every
means to reduce that ratio; wounding instead of killing was one such stratagem.
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Because the resistance of the defenders was so fierce and effective and the penalty paid
by the attackers was too steep, the assault did not last long. Once it was over, the Kudesh
retreated to positions where they could hide and hold up against the long-range snipers of
the defenders. The adventurers and their other Varanoide allies did not press after the
Kudesh because they were already occupying the one location that was best do defend. In
the space between those two positions there were a frighteningly large number of
severely wounded and dead Kudesh warriors.
Mutulupamu Chomusu believed it was time to allow the hostile tribals to retrieve their
dead and their injured companions. Hely Mor, as representative of the human
adventurers involved in the defence of that gorge agreed. That would serve several
purposes. First, the Kudesh would be busy with taking care of their injured; at least for
some time. Then, the plight of the wounded could serve to reduce their willingness to
attack again. A few casualties often increased the fervour of fighting but a large sacrifice
ultimately tipped the balance in the other direction. Few groups ever fought to the last
individual; especially not from the attackers who struggled to gain something. For
defenders the situation sometimes looked different. When they were already on their last
stance and had nowhere to flee but faces certain death when falling into the hands of the
aggressor, they might continue to combat the enemy to the last one remaining. Apart
from that, the honourable gesture to let the Kudesh collect their dead and wounded
companions should also make it easier to start negotiations later on. After all, the whole
matter was a very unfortunate issue because neither of the parties involved had
deliberately caused it. They Kudesh were attacked by some of Lom Claybrinck’s bandits,
who were absolutely not any associated of either the adventurers around Ben Sommer or
the other tribal now involved in the fighting. It had all started as not being their struggle,
actually.
After the defenders had called out to the Kudesh that now it was time to collect their
casualties, those recipients of the friendly gesture did at first not trust the offer. They
believed it to be a trick to lure them into the line of fire; turning them into tantalizing
targets for the snipers. After some time and repeated summons from the side of the
defenders, the Kudesh at first sent to warriors forward to probe the trust. Those two
came, picked up one of their wounded companions, carried him back to their own
position, and then brought him out of sight of the defenders. As nothing bad had
happened to them, these two returned once more and took another injured fighter away.
Again, they were not hindered and after they could rescue another one of their
companions unhindered, more Kudesh came.
When a few of them were in good listening distance, Hely More asked Mutulupamu
Chomusu to call out to these Kudesh and enquire who, at this moment and at this war
theatre, was their supreme leader. He received the answer that a certain Mumupu
Bururenutu was the attackers’ highest chieftain. Hely Mor had the Kudesh being told that
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Chieftain Mumupu Bururenutu was invited to negotiate. When learning about some other
three tribal leaders who were also very important, Hely More had them also asked to join
the negotiation.
The unconfirmed but implicitly observed ceasefire continued. The Kudesh did not attack
and more and thus the adventurers had no reason for active defence. Everybody
remained in his positions. After sometime, Hely Mor received an answer; it was a positive
reply. Chieftain Mumupu Bururenutu and three of his chieftain colleagues were ready to
negotiate. Only the location was still to be determined. After some calling forth and back,
they came to the agreement that the middle of the way between their respective
positions in the gorge was to be the meeting ground.
It again took a while, till the actual negotiations finally took place. The leaders of both
sides had to prepare, consult and deliberate with their most experienced allies and reach
the location, too. Hely Mor, despite having been instrumental in arranging the meeting,
did not take part. On the side of the adventurers, Ben Sommer, Achesh Akanem, Karumir
Marudy, and Vin Lakes. The two Varanoides were the joining as chieftains of their own
tribes and the two adventurers were going as representatives of the humans. They were
the most experienced involved members of the defending alliance. Of those leading
defenders who did not join the negotiations, Mutulupamu Huwuyu remained at his island
because he was the guardian of the secret and had to be near the building where the
ancient civilisation had left the control unit for their defences systems. Ed Arn was to
remain away from the meeting and with the adventurers because according to the general
consensus among the adventurers leadership team, he was supposed to have the longest
and most profound military experience. He was to keep up the integrity of the defences
and long as the ceasefire continued and organise the fight, should hostilities break out
again. Seb Melch was an old criminalist and believed to be the most sceptical of all, so he
was considered to be best suited to detect any fishy actions taken by the Kudesh, like
trying to intrude on the back, via the other gorge, for example.
At the agreed time, starting off from both sides of the contested canyon, the negotiation
delegations left the protection of their respective emplacements and slowly and
cautiously advanced to the exact middle ground. There, they remained, silent and
inflexible; literally. It took a while till the talking started. The adventurers provided proof
that they were holding a number of Kudesh chieftains captive and argued that those were
to be understood as security collateral that the opponents could gain back in return for
lasting peace. Then, accusations were brought forward from one side and counteraccusations from the other. The adventurers extolled their generosity, based on the fact
they despite claiming entire innocence, they were not going for revenge and had not
attempted vengeance either. The Kudesh alleged the opposite, maintaining that the
adventurers had committed a string of misdeeds. To answer that, the adventurers
detailed what they had done and gave an account of their way and travel, to show that
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whatever injury had happened to the Kudesh elsewhere was not of their making. The
other side then reasserted the adventurers actions as hostile, while these predicated them
to be entirely defensive and thus unobjectionable. Like the waves on the ocean and the
tides at the shore, the accusations and complaints, the claims and assertions, the
pretentions and pronouncements surged forth and back. Each side insisted on their right.
The adventurers had not much leeway to give in, though, as they could not have
themselves killed just for the sake of peace, for this kind of graveyard peace wasn’t any
real solution for them. For some reason or the other, perhaps out of distrust, to keep the
face, because of excessive anger and rage still burning in their hearts, the Kudesh
chieftains did not give in either. They were listening and obverting carefully, trying to gain
more intelligence on the adventurers and their allied Varanoide friends, but they
apparently did not have the heart to yield to the realities of the situation and let the
adventurers alone. The hostile Kudesh chieftains seemed to believe that the captives held
by the adventurers were their biggest item and that the defences set up around Lake
Karep Kisat could be overcome, sooner or later. They did not know about the ancient
devices at the disposal of Mutulupamu Huwuyu and they weren’t told about them by Ben
Sommer or anyone else who knew about them. The aged alien had asked for that
information to remain confidential. Rumours and legends were neither to be confirmed
not even discussed; for that he had asked. The Kudesh chieftains somehow did not
understand how much losses they had to accept for even trying to gain access to the
lake’s valley.
Ultimately, the negotiations were broken off as they did not lead to anything and the time
was passing by, with the day coming to an end. The adventurers did not want to be out
and away from their secured emplacements during the night, exposed to the hostile
Kudesh Varanoide warriors with their superior senses. Yet, the delegations were back to
their respective own side and Ben Sommer in a short moment of reduced self-control
cursed the futility of the negotiation, Karumir Marudy emended him softly. ‘Mumutu
Bururenutu was already getting pensive, starting to contemplate the high number of likely
victims on his side when we broke off the talks’, he interposed. ‘I did not want to
contradict anyone of our side during the talks but when you and Vin Lakes were hinting
that you wanted to return to our lines, I felt that was a mistake.’
Ben Sommer did not retort anything. He felt that Karumir Marudy could be right. He had
no intention to contradict the chieftain of the Cuhutis Imutay here. There was no need to
alienate the alien allies and there was no use in debating something that relies of feeling
and can’t be proven. Finally, it was futile to speak against the truth and the Varanoide’s
opinion could well be correct. Anyway, it was late, the day had been demanding;
especially the creating of the makeshift fortifications for the defence of the lake’s valley.
Ben Sommer anyway was just about to be confronted with yet another issue. Just when
he came back to the island, Chieftain Tusicu Nitusasu approached him and complained
that he had not been taken along to the negotiations. The leader of the Denudatu
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Varanoides asked Ben Sommer, why only those four delegated had gone and why he, as
the leader of his own tribe, had not been taken along. That some people of the leadership
had to remain out of reach of the enemy did not convince him and that four delegates
from the side of the adventurers and their allies went to discuss with four deputes from
the Kudesh side, was not cogent enough for him either. He insisted that as chieftain of the
Denudatu tribe, it was a necessity to include him in negotiations with the enemy and he
maintained that he could have contributed towards finding a solution and resolving the
dispute, especially given the number and strength of his warriors. Unfortunately, Ben
Sommer was tired from the long and demanding day and fed up from the useless talks
with the hostiles, so he answered just briefly, that already too much nonsense had been
talked and that there was no use in having another one fellow talk even more. Hearing
that answer, Tusicu Nitusasu was deeply embarrassed. Because of the Varanoide’s
anatomic disability to show facial expressions, that wasn’t visible, though. Yet, the guy
was burning of anger inside. It was the second time that humans had gnawed away at his
reputation, calling into question his honour. That was extremely difficult for him to bear.
Yet, there was nothing that he could do about it at the moment, because the situation
demanded cooperation from all the defenders, lest they succumb to the superior strength
in numbers of the Kudesh warriors assembled on planet Tasik Perak, laying siege on the
valley around Lake Karep Kisat.
To prove his importance, Chieftain Tusicu Nitusasu insisted on his tribe on providing many
of the sentinels for the night watch. The Denudatu leader wanted something to show for,
some factor where he could prove that he and his warriors could not be done without.
Chieftain Tusicu Nitusasu himself took it upon him to lay in ambush at the first line of
defence in the gorge; right where the spearhead of any assault by the Kudesh was
expected to occur most likely; should they dare it at all. He’d be in the middle of the
fighting, where combat would be hottest. Chieftain Tusicu Nitusasu lay there in waiting,
his anger raging on inside of him, inciting him to hope for the battle to prove his worth, regain his glory by a stupendous victory that would keep resounding in the voices of his
races’ warriors around the nightly fireplaces for ages to come. His infuriation about the
suffered insult and his esperance for the grandiose clash with the veritable warriors of the
frightful Kudesh alternatingly took over his mind and colluded to produce a mental
exertion that was hard to bear. And all the while Chieftain Tusicu Nitusasu was waiting for
the epic struggle to begin and give him the chance to have his name elevated to the tribal
Varanoides’ pantheon of fame, nothing happened. It was a dark, calm night. His sharp
senses pried for anything suspicious but detected nothing. The enemy wasn’t moving.
Perhaps, the enemy wasn’t even there anymore. What a disaster! What should a warrior
do without war? Even worse, what should the leader of warriors do without war? War
was what warriors engaged in; without war, their very definition was preposterous, their
reason for existence lost in absurdity.
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Chieftain Tusicu Nitusasu decided that he had to do something. If the attackers weren’t to
come to molest the defenders, the defender was to go haunting the attackers. The
Denudatu chieftain told the tribal warriors laying closest to him in the ambuscade, that he
was leaving for the enemy-occupied territory to do some reconnaissance. Letting his folks
know about this intention, he immediately took off; or rather deep-crawled off. Tusicu
Nitusasu wasn’t mad enough to try attacking the enemy alone; one individual against
hundreds of fighter was a ratio that appeared glorious but remained foolish all the same.
Chieftain Tusicu Nitusasu made it unnoticed through three lines of enemy sentinels who
were positioned to block the canyon on their side of it. Ever deeper he penetrated into
the hostile territory. His situation got quite hairy when he realised only in the last
moment two Kudesh guards right in front of him. Luckily, the soft airflow in the ravine
was going into his direction, not going toward the sentinels. Also, it was conductive for his
self-chosen mission that he was a Varanoide himself, thus smelled like the enemy. A
human being could not achieve the same feat, Tusicu Nitusasu was sure; and proud of
already. Yet, the difficulties had not come to an end. The Denudatu chieftain realised that
the ground below him consisted of lose stones and gravel that could betray him by making
noise when moved. Therefore, he had to crawl on very slowly and heighten his alertness
even more. Paying attention to preying Kudesh sentinels around and loose stony rubble
on the ground meant diverting his concentration into different directions. But after some
long-time of deep crawling, that nevertheless appeared much shorter to him than the
shorter span of time he had kept waiting in ambush, Tusicu Nitusasu made it through the
lines of Kudesh guards trying to seal off the gorge and reached their camp.
The camp of the enemies had been established on a stretch of land near the rear end of
the ravine; seen from the lake’s side. It was well-suited for a war-camp, defendable and
offering protection between the massive boulders and towering cliffs. It lacked any fresh
water supply, though. Thus, the camp wasn’t meant or actually even practical to be of use
for even the medium term. Any water would either have to be brought here by hopper or
the Varanoides had to visit the sources of the essential liquid elsewhere; likewise by use
of their machines for conveyance.
The Kudesh felt safe and Tusicu Nitusasu managed to infiltrate the camp. Between the
great rocks he saw the shine of an especially bright fire. The night had cooled down and
despite the necessity that persisted even for the attackers, who were so much superior in
number, to remain without attracting attention, they had collected dry wood from
somewhere and set up a nice campfire. There, the newly-elected chieftains of the present
Kudesh tribes and sub-tribes and clans rested, warmed their limbs, enjoyed the warmth
radiated out from the flickering fire and frankly discussed their further plans.
There was one old Varanoide between the Kudesh around the fire who attracted the
attention of Tusicu Nitusasu. Usually, the members of his race were difficult to judge in
matters of age. Once they were full-grown, they did not change much anymore till very
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close to their final demise from this universe. Actually, there was hardly anything that
would bespeak adult, full-grown Varanoides of different age from one another. Thus, this
individual must be very old and also nearing his last days, as the indications of high age
had become clearly visible. But this fellow was not only old, he was also dangerous, as the
Denudatu chieftain soon was to find out, because that aged alien was either a sinister spy,
a treacherous traitor, or just some guy who one day long in the almost forgotten past
learned about an important secret, that he now freely divulged.
This one old Varanoide was telling the Kudesh chieftains sitting around the fireplace about
the land routes into the valley of Lake Karep Kisat and the best ways in the valley itself.
And, he was alluring to some other, secret possibilities to enter the area and even get
directly to the island and the building thereupon. The aged alien treacherous traitor told
the attentive chieftains about some of the facilities on the island and also of some below.
Tusicu Nitusasu had never learned about these and what he heard was to some degree
news for him, too. Then, the old Varanoide began to detail a hidden way that he claimed
to be known to him, and only to him. He indicated that the entrance to that narrow route
lay between two pillar-shaped rock formations and was a crevice broad enough just for
one person at a time; and that single person had to squeeze at places and move sideward.
That gully would later on move up to a rocky top; a fairly flat slightly sloping level; lower
on the one side and higher on the other. After the higher edge the way was again to
descend steeply into a huge and very deep cauldron-shaped gully, from where another
narrow defile going down steeply and turning into a crevice again was to lead into the
gorge just before it opened into the lake’s valley. On this route, it was possible, the old
chap advised, to fall into the defenders’ back, roll up their emplacement from behind and
turn their ambuscade into a try for themselves.
Then, after he had divulged all this information about how to get to Lake Karep Kisat
unperceived, that old Varanoide started narrating about the treasure that was being held
there. He said that by himself he had not seen anything but that he had been told long ago
by an individual who spoke with the confidence of absolute certainty that these valuables
existed. The fellow who had told him had lived in the apparently little house on the island
in the middle of the lake. But that visible part of the edifice was just like the tip of the
iceberg; the main structure was under-ground. The aged alien reported that once he could
have a glance into a huge dome-like structure below the house, into which the building on
the top would fit several times. At the time when this old Varanoide had seen and heard
all those things, he claimed to have lived for some time with the some other very old alien
in that island. That one had very slowly and cautiously started to introduce him into the
secrets but then some other person had turned up, who later on was identified to the
narrator as the son of the island’s eremite. Once this son was again present, the raconteur
wasn’t told anything new anymore. But whatever he had heard till this day he would not
release to the Kudesh. The old fellow recounted that the visible house on the island was
actually the top floor of a huge tower that once had been built into the valley. At this time,
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when the edifice was erected, there had not been any lake in that location. There were
only some small rivers and several creeks streaming through there and out through the
lower of the two gorges. This gorge was deeper at that time than it was at present,
because a dam had been built there by the ancient civilisation; and on the other side of
the valley, too. The dams on both sides were very broad, stretching far toward the centre.
Rock and debris had been thrown there by the ancients and later the forces of geology
added their give-away, too. Below the lake and below the dams, beginning from the
ravines and ending at the huge building that stood now concealed by the lake’s deep
water in the middle of the valley, tunnels led. There was a whole network of tunnels, with
the two most important being those that allowed access from outside. Actually, the aged
alien mentioned, the alternative path that he had described just a little bit earlier would
bring the Kudesh warriors so close to the entrance of one tunnel that they didn’t even
need to finish off the defenders first. They could right away get through the tunnel and
exit at the island, taking it in a swift coup de main without risking much and without
giving the defenders much chance to raise alarm and getting prepared to repel the Kudesh.
Once the attacking warriors would have captured the island, the defenders had lost; and
were lost. Nothing else would remain to them than trying to flee and escape from the
value and planet Tasik Perak.
Finally, the old Varanoide told the Kudesh chieftains of his motivation for his cooperation
with them and treason against the current guardian of the treasure. He, the aged alien,
had hoped to succeed the former sentinel of the secret. This one had told him that there
needed to be always one person to guard the treasure and keep it safe and secure.
Because the last person who was destined for the task had gone away for some business
but not returned and was long overdue, the former guardian was finally ready to prepare
the current traitor for his mission. Then, this one lost son came back and father and
offspring were again the best of bosom buddies and he was the odd creature out. Since
that day, for many decades, anger and morbid jealousy had raged in his soul, turning him
into a marionette on the strings of the green-eyed monster. He hated that old sentinel for
not continuing to induct him into further secrets and he abhorred the current guardian for
pushing him out of the role assigned to him by the heavenly fate. Therefore, he now
wanted revenge; or the re-establishment of justice. In return for his help to conquer the
valley of Lake Karep Kisat and the island and all, he wanted nothing else but being
installed as the new sentinel there by the Kudesh. Anything else the fierce warriors could
have, just the island and the building he wanted for himself. Even the treasures the
Kudesh could take; he would not mind that. He did not know what valuables these were
as he had never seen them in person, he told the chieftains, but the hoarding must be of
tremendous worth, he assured them. The chieftains believed that because the aged alien’s
words confirmed what the old legends were holding true, too.
When it became apparent that the Kudesh were preparing to get going, Tusicu Nitusasu
also disappeared from their camp. The chieftains there had stood up from the fire that
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was being kept burning high and bright for them and started giving orders to their
deputies and leading warriors. It was high time for the Denudatu to get away; fast and far.
By lots of good luck, he made it out of the camp and back through the gorge unnoticed. It
took him quite some time because he had to be extra cautious now. There was much
movement as the Kudesh started to leave their positions to fall the defenders into the
back. A trained military officer would have left the positions at the front occupied and
taken only the available forces from the rear to move them around for flanking the enemy,
but these here were tribal warriors, not a big state’s soldiers.
When Tusicu Nitusasu reached back to the positions his Denudatu warriors held in the
canyon, the Kudesh had almost reached the entrance of the tunnel already. They had
made it through the narrow path rather quickly, despite not being familiar with the way,
as they had expected there to be no defenders.
There were defenders, though. Mutulupamu Huwuyu and Ed Arn had both advocated
strongly positioning guards there, too. Mutulupamu Huwuyu had been very much in
favour of sentinels for this narrow pass-way because of his experience. Ed Arn had found
it necessary as he had scanned the surrounding of the lake’s valley with his hopper’s
multi-spectral sensors and analysed the results. He had seen this little footpath and
considered it a possible inlet for the enemies.
Exactly these enemies stumbled into the well-targeted, superbly concentrated fire of two
human adventurers. Those two gentlemen were armed with the latest long-range rifles
and possessed night-vision devices that were superior to even the Varanoides’ excellent
eyes. The Kudesh found themselves pinned down at the exit of the narrow pass-way. The
defenders’ projectiles could not reach the Varanoide warriors inside the narrow crevice
behind the cleft in the rocks. The Kudesh were not able to pass through it either, though.
The first one who had tried was not alive anymore; his chest had a hole with the size of a
finger on the one side and a gaping void with the diameter of a football on the other side.
A deadly anti-personnel projectile had struck him so hard that the two warriors behind
him were sprayed with their front-runner’s minced meat and blood. Those two had also
torn him back right after the hit but that was already too late.
The Kudesh were in a trap. The pass-way that they were in was so narrow that they stood
one after the other in a very long queue. If the defenders were able to react fast enough,
they could take prisoner all the attackers in that cleft in one go; just seal off the front and
rear and end and make sure nobody will climb out. The frontal exit, which was at the
same time the point of entrance to the canyon, was already sealed off by those two
sniping adventurers. Those were very much busy with their task of making sure nobody
came out of that little whole in the wall. They concentrated on that spot and on not
missing anyone who’d attempt to get through there or get around it somehow; or even go
after them. It took them a few minutes till they realised that they should call for
assistance and inform their leaders and the other adventurers.
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During those few minutes the Kudesh had not just understood their precarious tactical
situation but they had already taken measures not to get trapped in that location. They
had been aware of the dangers awaiting them because of the narrowness of that footpath
and looked for possible escape routes. Being Varanoides, the Kudesh desperately climbed
up the steep cliffs and walls of rock surrounding them and under the utmost exertion of
all forces some of them actually reached the roof of the rocky foothills around the narrow,
steep gully. From there, they attacked the two snipers. The Varanoides’ weapons were
not quite right for the task of engaging the two human defenders on such a distance but
there were many Kudesh with lot of such weapons and they shot off plenty of projectiles.
The relief force for those adventurers came just in time to provide backing for the couple’s
retreat. The Kudesh had suffered many casualties but the adventurers had to leave their
key position locking off that little passage. Now, the Kudesh were in the back of those
adventurers sealing off the main gorge and they could advance toward the lake.
The defenders were immediately trying to support those adventurers who were guarding
the entrance of the gorge into the broad valley of Lake Karep Kisat and also to relieve
those sentinels who were deeper inside the ravine, so that these did not get attacked
from the back. The Kudesh, though, neither pushed forward to the lake nor backward to
free the gorge from the adventurers blocking. They went for some specific location where
they started removing stones.
That happened at about the same time with Tusicu Nitusasu finally telling Ben Sommer
and Mutulupamu Huwuyu about the intelligence he had gained from his reconnaissance
mission to the Kudesh tribal warriors’ camp. Since the Denudatu chieftain had reached
back into the security of the Lake Karep Kisat valley, he did not hurry to reach the island
and tell the adventurers’ leaders about his discoveries. He had been insulted by Ben
Sommer and also by Seb Melch, who had proved him guilty of theft. How could this
dishonourable smooth-skinned creature of less than half his weight and possibly a third of
less of his strength dare to convict a Varanoide tribal chieftain of theft? That he was guilty
of the crime was a very different story. Here, the question was about honour and
reputation and nobody should dare to render moot those qualities of a veritable
Denudatu leader. And then, this Ben Sommer had also made him mad. How could this
creature of the questionable origin just exclude him, the glorious chieftain of the
Denudatu, from peace negotiation? How could this Ben, who was just like any Tom, Dick
or Harry cross him over just like this, careless and nonchalant?
For some time, Tusicu Nitusasu was imagining what beautiful revenge it would be to just
let matters happen. He did not know that Mutulupamu Huwuyu possessed means at his
disposal that rendered any danger that the Kudesh could possibly cause futile and
harmless. Nobody had told Tusicu Nitusasu about the secrets of Lake Karep Kisat; and that
was probably good, given his character and the body experience that existed with persons
of similar disposition. For the time it took him to not-too-hurriedly reach the island, the
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chieftain of the Denudatu vividly imagined a future without Ben Sommer and
Mutulupamu Huwuyu and Seb Melch and anyone of these creatures who did not treat
him with due respect. His revenge would be glorious; he would be the only survivor,
shining in the light of admiration, being sung about by the Varanoide warriors around
their fireplaces all over the galaxy; or would he not? It came to his mind that if the Kudesh
won, they would also vanquish his Denudatu. The alternative was to call his tribal warriors
together and flee with them. Retreating and leaving sworn allies alone wasn’t anything
that resulted in glory and songs being composed; and so on. But not only would he not
gather much glory with his revenge, no matter how justified it was, he would put himself
into great danger because an easy victory of the Kudesh meant that they could follow him
and his tribe and hunt them down. As the enemies were numerically by far superior, his
chances of survival were slim. Therefore, such hesitance to share his intelligence could be
assumed to very likely result not only on a lack of glory but also in the loss of life; nothing
really problematic in itself, unless it concerned his own life. Thus, it was in his own
interest to convey the message to the adventurers’ leaders that the Kudesh had a traitor
with them who had given them lots of details concerning the secrets of the location.
Having arrived at that conclusion, Tusicu Nitusasu revelled in honey-sweet imaginations of
how grateful all the other adventurers would have to be as he was to save their lives. The
glory of the bodacious chieftain of the splendid Denudatu tribe was to reach
unprecedented heights. Tusicu Nitusasu regaled in the day-dreamt vision of how surprised
the other adventurers would be and how shocked and much obliged they had to be for
the rest of their lives. That, actually, was a much better revenge than leaving with his tribe
and exposing them to their certain fate; which was to be fatal. Tusicu Nitusasu thanked
destiny for the chance to show off his noble and valiant real self and for the ultimate
redress that those who had looked down upon him where not obliged to pay him respect.
By saving their lives, he would own them for eternity, they would have to sing his praise
till their last moment and then make their children and grandchildren continue with the
obligation. Life was good! Life was just! Ultimately, anyone received what he was due and
finally it was his turn to get his reward. Tusicu Nitusasu was glad and happy as could be.
Only actually receiving his full gratification could make him even happier now.
In this beautiful state of mind he was when he told Ben Sommer and Mutulupamu
Huwuyu about the intelligence that he had gathered. But to the appalling shock of Tusicu
Nitusasu, those two leaders were not as impressed as he had previously anticipated. The
Denudatu chieftain’s imagination had gone wild and painted pictures of astounding
beauty and then reality could not cope with them. Tusicu Nitusasu did of course not know
that Ben Sommer and Mutulupamu Huwuyu were aware of the danger. Nobody ever had
told the Denudatu chieftain about the secrets of planet Tasik Perak and the defence
installations resting under the seemingly peaceful island in the middle of Lake Karep Kisat.
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Mutulupamu Huwuyu thanked Tusicu Nitusasu for the information and Ben Sommer also
expressed his gratitude and even complimented the Denudatu chieftain to his advanced
skills as a helpful scout. That was a lot short of them all falling to their knees and kissing
his feet, as Tusicu Nitusasu had imagined. Ben Sommer and Mutulupamu Huwuyu also
remained well short of recognising that he, the chieftain of the Denudatu, had saved their
lives. These unappreciative individuals had apparently not enough good character to act
upon the demands of honour and conceded to owing their lives to Tusicu Nitusasu.
‘Ingratitude is the world’s rewarding’, the bitterly disenthralled angry alien thought. Yet,
having acted the way he did was still the best choice, as for all the other arguments that
he had pondered. If those adventurers and allied Varanoides had not enough honour in
them to admit the truth that they owed Tusicu Nitusasu their lives, then the chieftain
would have to make that known by himself. These ingrates after all had thanked him and
could not revoke their compliments; they just had not expressed their gratefulness the
way that was expected.
Now, pulling Tusicu Nitusasu from his gloomy and dire thoughts, Mutulupamu Huwuyu
directed his words to the Denudatu chieftain. ‘That traitor was here when me and my son
were away for long. Our father must have feared that the island was to remain without
guardian and thus started to introduce this turncoat into the secrets. He probably did not
get very far, though. Yet, it was enough to cause some hassle’, the old Varanoide
explained.
‘What secrets?’ Tusicu Nitusasu wanted to know. He had heard about them at the camp
fire of the Kudesh chieftain when the traitor spoke. Now, he was curious to learn more.
Mutulupamu Huwuyu did not intend to induct the Denudatu chieftain into these secrets.
‘All what you heard it true’, the aged alien only stated. ‘Though it is not precise’, he
declared. ‘The island actually holds a treasure but that is only valuable for the ancient
civilisation that left it. There are many relicts of cultic meaning; they are religious items of
the old race that build the edifice, heaped up the island with boulders and some fertile
earth on top, and raised the dam by filling the gorges at the beginnings. These items have
no meaning to other being than those who made them; most individuals would not even
recognise them if they weren’t pointed to them.’ He had already said so to Ben Sommer
earlier and now repeated the same story to Tusicu Nitusasu. He did not tell the Denudatu
chieftain about the defence systems left behind on the planet by the ancient species,
though. Only when Tusicu Nitusasu started to wonder why Mutulupamu Huwuyu
remained so calm and did not hurry, the old guardian of the island felt bemused to explain
a little more. ‘The tunnels you mention can be flooded’, he said. ‘That’s to flush out
garbage, unwanted vermin, dust, and all else that does not belong there.’ Then, he
pointed to a place on the lake where some very fine waves were originating and some
bubbles rose. ‘As we are talking, the tunnel is already being flooded’, Mutulupamu
Huwuyu indicated. ‘The Kudesh will be washed out’, he forecast.
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Ben Sommer was staggered. ‘You kill them all!’ he said to the old guardian of the treasure,
suppressing his sudden feeling of abhorrence. He knew that something had to be done
about the Kudesh approaching through the tunnel but having them all drown was a stark
action. ‘Was there no other way?’ Sommer asked. ‘After all, they were kind of
incarcerated in the tunnel.’
‘They held their own judgement and sealed their own sentence’, Mutulupamu Huwuyu
responded. ‘Some things are going automatic and if somebody does not know what to do
and what not to do, he might just do the wrong thing and provoke a cascade of events
that will finally be terminating his earthly existence.’
‘What about those captive Kudesh chieftains who are in the stone dome under the
building?’ Ben Sommer inquired. ‘Should we not better get them out of there, now that
the tunnels are being flushed?’
‘The place is safe’, Mutulupamu Huwuyu answered. ‘But if you feel anxious about them,
we can get them out of there; just to afford you some relief from your worries. Now, with
the Kudesh warriors so much reduced in number and morale, their few remaining
associated will not have the strength anymore to even attempt a liberation.’ Having said
so, the aged alien gave the instruction to get the captive chieftains out from their lowlaying prison.
In that moment, Mutulupamu Huwuyu saw Walterson and that man, at the same time
looking into the direction of the old Varanoide, felt that it was time to talk again. After
their eyes hat met, he came to Mutulupamu Huwuyu so that they could also meet in
person.
‘Aged you’, the old alien said in his broken human lingua franca. Till that moment, he had
spoken with Ben Sommer in some Varanoide dialect that both of them were fluent in.
‘Still I know you’, he accidentally produced at least one decent phrase in that common
language of the humans.
‘Time years some ago was here men to winter during father my help’, Mutulupamu
Huwuyu remembered. ‘Father of care take. Thank I for grace your.’
‘Yes’, Walterson responded. ‘Burek and I were here and we stayed through one long
winter. It was damn cold and we had trouble taking care. We slimmed down a lot. We also
helped the old Varanoide who lived here but unfortunately our support was not sufficient,
I fear. Anyway, he gave as a hand-drawn map of some installations here and hinted to a
great treasure. If I understood him right he wanted to make sure the treasure does not
forgotten.’
Mutulupamu Huwuyu was not at all amused. Actually, he was worried. The more people
knew about that treasure, the more would come and ask for it; some may intend to take
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possession of it. ‘Culture of trasure is’, he thus tried to explain. ‘Ancient race cherish.
Treasure beneficial not you.’
Walterson did not fully comprehend. Be it the unfamiliar pronunciation or the
individualistic grammar, the old Varanoide’s standard human lingua franca was not quite
up to the norm. Only with a lot experience in listening to it, with knowledge of the
Varanoide languages, and with a background knowledge of the matter concerned it was
to be presumed what those words should actually mean. Walterson, though, lacked some
of that understanding. ‘He entrusted us with a secret’, he thus repeated. ‘It was a secret of
a treasure that must be hidden somewhere here. He did not want this secret to die with
him.’
‘It is a treasure of cultural value for an ancient species’, Ben Sommer explained. ‘It is of no
importance for us humans, I was told already’, he reported. ‘The treasure and the secret
around it must belong to the cultic rituals of this old race that established the edifice here
and left treasure and secret. We have the precious ore veins to exploit. That’s of monetary
value to us. Why bother about other treasures that are only in the minds of beings that
we don’t even know about?’ he tried to deflect Walterson’s interest. ‘You are my partner
in the mining operation already. That mining will bring us all, every single one of us, a
great fortune. You have seen the richness. Why then bother about something that would
not even mean anything to us if we have it?’
Mutulupamu Huwuyu was glad for the support. He now directed his words to Ben
Sommer and asked him to translate. He told that the old father had acted out of sorrow
for the treasure and the secret but also prematurely and hastily. He was not supposed to
divulge those matters. He could have feared that Mutulupamu Huwuyu and Mutulupamu
Chomusu might not come back, but still he should have kept the secret just like this. After
all, the next guardian had already been designated and inaugurated. The term guardian
was anyway the key to understanding his role, because the obligation of the sentinel is to
keep something safe and it is very different from the proprietor, who can use something
freely and do with it as he pleases.
‘So, you mean that I am not going to get anything out of it?’ Walterson asked,
disappointed.
‘We would not even recognise if we saw the treasure right before our eyes, I was told’,
Ben Sommer repeated what he had learned himself.
‘We had a drawing, Burek and me’, Walterson insisted. ‘I can still remember some of it
and I would like to give it a try and see what I can find.’
‘It will not help you because as a trustful guardian I have taken care of the treasure and
changed its location, the place where it’s being kept’, Mutulupamu Huwuyu said in the
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Varanoide dialect that he had earlier used for talking with Ben Sommer. The adventurers’
leader translated it for Walterson.
‘And may I know where that new place is?’ the man asked, insisting on what he perceived
to be his right.
‘No’, Mutulupamu Huwuyu replied in human lingua franca. That word, despite his lack of
skills in grammar and pronunciation, was understandable.
‘That is not very appreciative at all’, Walterson complained.
‘I am doing my duty’, the Mutulupamu Huwuyu tried to make himself understood via the
translation of Ben Sommer. ‘I will not forget what you have done. I cannot grant you
access to the treasure and even less so taking possession of it. But if you have any other
request, I will do my best to grant it.’
No such other request came to Walterson’s mind in that moment but Ben Sommer
reacted immediately after seeing that. ‘We, our group of adventurers that is, do have a
common request that our companion, partner and friend Walterson here shares with all
of us’, he quickly interjected. ‘It would be very much appreciated if you could grant us that
request with your full consent’, he continued. ‘Of course I may trust in your sincerity and
the validity of your words.’
‘Yes’, Mutulupamu Huwuyu responded in the affirmative, using the human lingua franca.
‘My words are always meant to represent the true content of my will’, he continued in the
Varanoide dialect that he and Ben Sommer both spoke well.
‘Then, of course, I will put full trust in you and present the common desire of the whole
group of us adventurers to you’, Sommer answered. ‘As you may know, we came here for
mining the rich reserves of the dry valley nearby’, he first explained. ‘Of course, we would
like to live in good neighbourhood with you. Would you grant us your permission to
occupy and use that land and conduct our mining activities there?’
‘Yes’, Mutulupamu Huwuyu confirmed in human lingua franca.
Walterson did not understand the Varanoide dialect and Ben quickly gave him a short
account of what he had asked for.
‘Do you have any title to the land around Lake Karep Kisat and planet Tasik Perak?’ Ben
Sommer enquired.
‘I received the role of guardian from my father and I will pass it on to my son’,
Mutulupamu Huwuyu told. ‘As sentinel, I do have the actual power over it.’
‘That means nothing was yet registered with any state’, Sommer tried to find out.
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‘The ancient civilisation that left this place behind was here long before your ancestors
started taking to the stars’, the Varanoide chieftain expounded. ‘How should they have
registered with any of your states?’
‘That’s definitively a valid argument’, Ben assented. ‘We, for our part, would register with
some big state and seek accession. That will provide us with security for our lives and
property. That property would be whatever we will register as first comers. My suggestion
would be that you do also register with the same state. Then, you won’t be bothered by
such unwanted visitors anymore as gangsters of marauding warriors can be.’
‘So, according to your judgement I should seek confirmation of property for something
that I already entirely control, physically and as a matter of fact’, Mutulupamu Huwuyu
recapitulated. ‘As far as I understand, that will cost some regular payment to the state we
register with; you call that tax, don’t you?’
‘We would pay the fee from our mining operations’, Ben Sommer proposed. ‘That was our
intention all the time anyway. You don’t have any income from the fulfilment of your
inherited duty. We just want you to be our good neighbour and live in peace with you.
And of course, given your factual power of control over planet Tasik Perak, we actually
need your goodwill to let us work and live here. But when you look at it from your side,
then you will also find considerable benefits in my suggestion’, he commended. ‘Currently,
you are alone here and you have to cope with your duty all alone. All kinds of adventurers,
both gentlemen and not-so-gentle men, come here every once in a while. This trickle will
rather not percolate but swell. The galaxy is a big place but the number of stars and
planets is counted. The number of humans and Aduhika and Varanoides and all the other
races is growing. More visitors will come and you will still be alone; and so will be your
successors. But if we register with a big state, you as the owner of the whole planet of
Tasik Perak and we as the owners of the ore mines, we will all be protected. Our property
will be safe the big state’s military will protect you from being molested by anyone; like
gangsters or marauders. And then, of course, I already mentioned that we will pay the fee
and the taxes from the proceeds of our mining.’
Mutulupamu Huwuyu remained silent for some time. He was thinking. ‘Which state do
you want to register with’, he then asked.
‘I thought of the Allied Jurisdictions of the Beautiful Worlds’, Ben Sommer responded.
‘That’s a very big state and it’s rather close by; comparatively. They also do already have
some minor trade interests in this area, so they are not entirely new to this part of the
galaxy.’
‘The hyperspace streams leading to Tasik Perak are narrow’, Mutulupamu Huwuyu stated.
‘Even the military of the Allied Jurisdictions of the Beautiful Worlds will not get anything
bigger than a heavy fighter jet through them’, he countered.
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‘Even one such heavy fighter jet could cope will all hoppers of all gangsters who could
think of coming here’, Ben Sommer claimed. ‘And of course, it would not be just one such
fighter jet.’
‘Of all gangsters’, Mutulupamu Huwuyu mimicked. ‘That may be quite a little overoptimistic, don’t you think?’
‘Sorry, my salesmanship went over-board with me’, Ben Sommer excused himself. ‘But
the fact remains that you would get a good deal of additional protection for free because
it would be us who will pay the fee.’
Mutulupamu Huwuyu remained silent for a while, again. ‘Then, so be it’, he finally agreed.
‘But I know the ways of the humans well. You need to have anything in writing in some
attested form. Therefore, we will have to do it all according to the proper ways advocated
in your administrative orders, with all the legalities done water-tight and bullet-proof.’
‘You are most welcome’, Ben Sommer confirmed. ‘That was my idea from the onset.’
‘I suppose that the registration and application for accession to the big state of Allied
Jurisdictions of the Beautiful Worlds will have to be done at one of their locations; or even
at their supreme administrational centre’, Mutulupamu Huwuyu guessed. ‘Or will anyone
from them come here?’ he asked.
‘We would have to visit their local administrational office at Filulumuru Station’, Ben
Sommer informed the chieftain.
‘Filulumuru sounds like a term from an old and rare Varanoide dialect’, Mutulupamu
Huwuyu mentioned. ‘It could be a malapropism, too, but the way you pronounced it,
there is a chance that it may be a word from the Ticukanuwa people. As to my knowledge,
there are only thirty four members of that tribe left; as it largely merged with the Cuhutis
Imutay. Just a few kept on going their own way.’
‘’You may well be right’, Ben Sommer acknowledged. ‘To my understanding, the name
was taken over from some Varanoides who had mentioned it to the humans arriving there.
But according to official history, the place had been vacant at the time of the humans’
settlement and the Varanoides had not claimed it.’
‘No wonder they did not claim it’, Mutulupamu Huwuyu stated. ‘Nomads don’t claim
territory and many of our tribes are nomadic. They just travel through places, living from
what the land has to offer them more or less voluntarily. They hunt and gather and then
leave again. Or race also established big states but those are in a different region of the
galaxy. There, property laws and claims to territory also exist. Here, we only use them
because we have to when we come in contact with your own human civilisation.’
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‘That’s the way it’s working with us’, Ben Sommer attested. ‘We may or may not like it but
we have to take it into account to get along well in life. Many of us are running away from
those rigidities but the civilisation is following them; is following us. One day, we may
have to run to the next galaxy, to Andromeda or even further, to escape from the lawyers
and regulations.’
‘But I thought you want to register your claim with a big state and enjoy the safety of its
military protection?’ Mutulupamu Huwuyu uttered with apparent astonishment.
‘It’s a logical conclusion to act upon’, Ben Sommer replied. ‘It has nothing to do with what
I want. The world does not care about what I want. I have to use my brain to cope with
the world. I use the law and the big states like I use a flint stone to make fire, a cave to
shelter me from rain, a tree trunk to carve out a boat or a fruit tree to find food. I take the
big states and their development as I take the hyperspace streams and their energy tides.
I take the laws as I take wind and rain and the waves of the oceans. They are external
factors that I cannot influence. I can stay and remain under them or I can more away. Now,
I have found some rich ore mines and those are immobile real estate. The mines don’t
move and if I want to exploit them I have to be stationary, too; at least for some time. So,
it’s not about choice but about the situation that I am in. I adapt to it and make my
decisions based on the give environment.’
‘But why don’t you simply move on?’ Mutulupamu Huwuyu asked. ‘You are an adventurer
and if you like adventures and love your freedom, if you want to live according to your
own rules, make your own choices regardless of others, then why don’t to go again to
some part of the galaxy where nobody else is, where you’re alone and uncontested
master of your fate and of all that is around you?’
‘I do love my freedom’, Ben Sommer declared. ‘But there is more to life than freedom
alone. I would never give up my freedom entirely but some degree I am willing to sacrifice
for the sake of certain other benefits’, he expounded. ‘You see, I can make do without
almost anything, but still I know what comfort is, and I do enjoy luxury, too. With the
proceeds from the mines here, I can afford a very convenient life. I can have a big
bathroom with an in-built sauna, I can have a Jacuzzi bath, I can have a kitchen like the
one of a grand hotel and I will probably be able to afford even the correspondent cook. I
can have a big, soft bed; a waterbed maybe. I can have a nice cottage with an open
chimney where I can sit in front of the fireplace and enjoy the warmth of the flames
without the smoke; because the smoke will leave upward via the chimney. I have
travelled in hoppers for many years but I would like to have a space boat with an in-built
toilet, for example. And, like anyone else, I am also getting older. We humans age over
time; slowly we are getting ever weaker and lose strength and the sharpness of our senses.
Even I will get older and weaker and less agile and my senses will deteriorate. By then, I
want a cosy home. There will be one day when adventures are no fun anymore but
burden. Therefore, I grab this opportunity to make a fortune and keep it save.’
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Mutulupamu Huwuyu nodded. He knew that among humans that signified acceptance.
‘That, of course, is to be understood’, he assented.
Soon after that conversation, another large group of Varanoide warriors of the Gimee
tribe arrived at planet Tasik Perak. Their intended meeting point was Lake Karep Kisat.
Their arrival convinced the last of the remaining Kudesh to behave peaceful. Thus, now
the defenders enjoyed such an overwhelming numerical strength that the enemy did not
have to be feared anymore at all. Yet, Mutulupamu Huwuyu and Ben Sommer agreed that
it was best to reach a formal status of peace with the Kudesh. The other adventurers
including the allied Varanoides also share that opinion. Keeping the conflict simmering
was to be avoided. Therefore, it was tried to come into contact with the chieftain of the
highest rank and greatest reputation among the remaining Kudesh. Because the
hyperspace currents in the vicinity of planet Tasik Perak were few and comparatively frail,
not even all of those Kudesh warriors who wanted to flee actually had the chance. Thus, a
good number of them still remained in the planet. They belonged, for example, to those
who had beleaguered the other gorge that lead to the valley of the lake.
After some searching, that Kudesh chieftain was finally identified and found. A meeting
was arranged and safe passage was guaranteed by both sides to the respective other
party. Of course, the adventurers’ guarantees were worth more and conveyed higher
weight because they were the superior side, consisting of well-armed humans and a large
number of allied experienced Varanoide warriors from different tribes. Somewhere on
neutral ground that seemed decently safe to both parties, Ben Sommer and the leader of
the remaining Kudesh met. They came to agree on another meeting, to be held with more
individuals attending from both sides at a convenient place near the lake. This was
conducted the other day and turned out to be a veritable conference with altogether a
sizeable flock of participants. Those Kudesh chieftains who had been captured earlier
were also taking part as well as their deputies, the leaders of the yet free-roaming
warriors from the forests and lands around the valley of the lake, deputes from the
adventurers and of course the chieftains of the allied tribes who had fought alongside the
humans for their common cause.
The Gimee had to be convinced to forego revenge and the Kudesh needed to understand
that they had to give up for good. Long speeches were held and a big bonfire was staked
up and burned down, delivering warmth and flickering light all through the whole night of
the conference. Finally, all parties promised eternal peace to each other and vowed to
keep all the articles of an arrangement that had been negotiated. Mainly for the humans’
sake, these agreed upon articles were held in writing, too. Some of the more civilised
Varanoide tribals appreciated that too, though. Not all of them were entirely devoid of
experience with more organised ways of life. Those who had seen civilisation were
assuaged to see the agreement being noted down and signed in writing.
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During the past few days, the treaty was gradually implemented. Most warriors from the
different Varanoide tribes of the Kudesh and Gimee as well as the Denudatu left planet
Tasik Perak. Because of the limitations enforced upon them by the constricted hyperspace
travel capacities, not all of the hoppers could depart as fast as they were desired to leave.
Who remained were of course the adventurers, both human and associated Varanoides,
and the two guardians of the secret; the current and the designated.
Soon after most of the former foes had left, Mutulupamu Chomusu and a small group of
adventurers started off for Filulumuru Station. The party included Ben Sommer as the
discoverer of the mines, Tom Grand as the representative of the loggers, Seb Melch who
went along with Duref to file for the bounty that had been places on the head of Lom
Claybrinck, two deputes from the Cuhutis Imutay and the Wasage tribes as those were the
equitable partners of the human adventurers in that mining enterprise. They took along a
nice collection of gold and silver to pay for the fees associated with the registration of the
claim and the request for accession to the big state of the Allied Jurisdictions of the
Beautiful Worlds. Seb Melch was of great use with the paperwork as he knew from long
experienced how to handle it. As a criminalist, he had already seen his fair share of
bureaucracy. Even Ben Sommer was glad about the help that Seb Melch provided, despite
not being an uneducated backwoodsman himself; despite living like one for long. Anyway,
those matters all got handled and taken care of properly and the party returned to planet
Tasik Perak.
During their absence, nothing bad had happened there. Ed Arn had been asked to keep an
eye on the security issued because of his military experienced; that he never spoke about
but anyone assumed him to have in abundance. Walterson, Lentbender, and especially
the energetic Tom Grand served as representatives and leaders of the human adventurers
while Achesh Akanem and Karumir Marudy of course filled out their roles as the chieftains
of their respective tribes with great excellence; as they had both done for many years.
Together with Mutulupamu Huwuyu and Sherbetor, the engineer, they organised the
adventurers’ life and work very well. Sherbetor started early with the required
explorations and soon had the plans for the preliminary constructions ready. The workers
started with their job as soon as the engineer advised them on what was to be done. With
pick-axe and shovel alone they had found enough gold and silver even before the
departure of the administrative party to Filulumuru Station to pay for the fees there. Now,
they were eager to start mining in full earnest and with more powerful equipment. The
lure of imminent wealth worked as wondrous cure for minor diseases, bad mood, little
disagreements that otherwise would easily have resulted in major quarrels, and a host of
other nuisances.
When at Filulumuru Station, Ben Sommer had already bought some needed mining
equipment and ordered other machines, devices, and supplies that were not readily
available. The stuff was to be delivered later.
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In the meantime, Ed Arn had decided to remain with the adventurers for good. His role as
the quasi-military commander suited him well and he had been offered a share of the
mining proceeds that was large and certain enough to convince him of the advantages to
remain with the enterprise. His job of collecting genetic samples had served him well in
the past, earning him nice financial rewards. His share of the mining could turn out to be
several times more lucrative, he reckoned.
About six weeks after their first visit to Filumuru Station, the ordered equipment arrived
there. Ben Sommer and a small group of adventurers travelled there to collect it. The
payment was done right away as in the meantime, enough gold and silver had been found
again. New orders were placed because further needs had arisen. Space boats were
chartered to haul the equipment along the narrow hyperspace streams leading to Tasik
Perak.
The administration of the Allied Jurisdictions of the Beautiful Worlds sent an advance
inspection team to the community that had requested for accession to their big state. The
commission enquired whether there were antecedent claims to Tasik Perak. The
government of the big state wanted to avoid getting into a conflict with another state
over allowing accession to a foreign-owned territory. Mutulupamu Huwuyu indicated that
he and his ancestors had lived on Tasik Perak for ages as the only permanent residents
and that he fully agreed to the terms and conditions of accession that had been
negotiated with him. The other Varanoide chieftains Achesh Akanem, Karumir Marudy,
and Tusicu Nitusasu corroborated that claim in the name of their tribes. The state’s
advance commission reported those findings back to the administrational centre of the
Allied Jurisdictions of the Beautiful Worlds. A small squadron of fighter jets came for a
visit even before the accession was granted, which followed soon with the confirmation of
the articles of association that the human and Varanoide adventurers had negotiated with
Mutulupamu Huwuyu and his son. After Tasik Perak became one more planet in the big
state of the Allied Jurisdictions of the Beautiful Worlds, a small permanent base of its
military was established there. As Ben Sommer had guessed previously, the taxes to be
paid to the government amounted to about a third of the net yield after cost of the
adventurers’ mining operations. In return, the big state served as a reliable night watch,
taking care that its citizen could sleep well at night without fear. No gangsters or
marauders dared to bother the inhabitants of Tasik Perak anymore.
Sherbetor’s daughter exhibited such a talent for cooking food that tasted well to humans
and Varanoides alike that she soon started running her own business. She set up her own
little makeshift kitchen, turning it slowly into a one-girl restaurant. Soon, she made about
as much with her work there as the other adventurers made with their mining. Her
revenues kept on going up, so that after some time, she was actually better off with her
restaurant and catering service than she would have been as a fellow miner. She also
showed a great talent for learning several of the different Varanoide dialects and thus
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started working as an occasional translator and interpreter, too. In that role, Tiān Míngyuè
became her partner. The same Tiān Míngyuè also worked with her when it came to
teaching the Varanoides human languages, especially the standard lingua franca but also
Chinese. Many of the red-scaled aliens anyway understood and spoke at least some
Chinese and quite a few of them had a good command of that tongue. Were it the simply
grammar of that language or the tonality that suited the Varanoides’ sharp ears so well,
they could pick up that tongue almost on the fly by. Nobody asked them about writing it
but it turned out that those aliens’ brains were well-suited for remembering shapes and
patterns, too. As original hunter-gatherers, they had a phenomenal visual memory. If they
saw a tree or hill or river bent once, they could remember it forever. That same worked
well for them with the characters of that language. Tiān Míngyuè also partnered with
Sherbetor’s daughter in the restaurant business because the Varanoides also turned out
big fans of the Chinese kitchen. Soon, that led to the requirement to grow red hot chilli
peppers on a little field near the lake. Because of the climate they did not get as hot as
they grew to be in other places but using more of them made up for the lack of strength to
some extent.
Sherbetor’s wife proved her talent of organization by taking care of arrangement and
collocation of the accruing and ever more accumulating data. Where hundreds of
individuals of different races and tribes lived and worked together, lots of important data
incurred that needed to be stored and be ready for retrieval at will. Mrs. Sherbetor made
a business out of that organisation and soon ran a kind of notary and document
management for the adventurers. Through that work, she came to get involved in
ordering spare parts for equipment and machinery including hoppers and the
administration of the stores and warehouses. Because many of the adventurers used their
hoppers very extensively, and even for transportation purposes like hauling around tree
trunks, crates of ore, and construction material for houses and mining, the machines
experienced significant tear and wear, despite most of them being Yamaha vehicles famed
for their quality. As Mrs. Sherbetor got involved with the spare parts business, she soon
grew into it every more and after some time opened up a Yamaha repair shop and
dealership. That added to the other trade she was conducting, too. She and her daughter
turned respectable and very much respected business ladies within just a few years,
making as much as good miners; and considerably more than the average.
The mines proved as productive as hope for. Actually, the yield of precious metals,
especially of silver, turned out to be well above even the previous hopes of the majority of
the miners. Still, the community gave a fairly simple and uncivilised impression for some
time, as almost everybody was fully busy with digging for the precious metallic treasures
that Tasik Perak was holding for the adventurers in abundance. Nobody felt like sacrificing
time for building nice houses an pavements and wells and soakaway trickle pools and
what all else was required in a settlement of several hundred individuals. After some time,
though, these things still came up, slowly and one by one but ultimately irresistibly. The
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settlement over time also grew in population. At the beginning, the original adventurers
tried to keep their finding rather confidential; as much as was possible within the
framework of the Allied Jurisdictions of the Beautiful Worlds. They also restricted
immigration to Tasik Perak tightly because they did not want their place to be flooded
with desperados. Under the articles of accession to the big state, that was possible within
limits for some time. After all, the adventurers of Tasik Perak paid a lot of taxes and the
government allowed them some favours in return. By the time, though, the community
experienced the need for further workers of all kinds and more individuals came to settle
there. They were from the human race as well as from the involved Varanoide tribes; an
later on from other befriended tribes, too.
Because of the relative difficulty to access Tasik Perak and the life there with its long,
harsh winters and its closeness to nature, and the forces of nature, Tasik Perak was not
run over by a flood of immigrants even when those were allowed to come in larger
numbers. The landscape was very beautiful and grandiose and the nature on Tasik Perak
showed a wide range of her capabilities by displaying endless forests and picturesque
mountains, lakes that looked like artificially created pictures, and oceans with romantic
coast-lines. Yet, life there was also hard because of the circumstances like the sheer
endless winters with many meters of snow and because only limited amounts of material
could be brought in via the limiting narrow hyperspace streams. Therefore, most of what
was required to turn the settlement there into a veritable town was to come from the
location itself. Buildings were erected with wood and stone and wood served for the
purposes of heating, too, being used to fire wood stoves in the houses. Wooden
pavements were built to allow the inhabitants walk from one edifice to the other even
during the times of heavy rain which at times turned the ground into morass half a meter
deep. Some precautions had to be taken for security against some of the wild animals
living on Tasik Perak, too. Like any other inhabitable planet, this world also was home to a
range of species big enough to be dangerous for humans and even for Varanoides.
On one days, a couple of month after the accession of Tasik Perak into the Allied
Jurisdictions of the Beautiful Worlds, Mutulupamu Huwuyu and Ben Sommer were sitting
in front of the house on the island that served the old Varanoide as fixed abode; and was
to remain his forever. ‘You have many talents’, the red scaled alien said to the adventurer.
‘I see you working incredibly hard. You are big and strong almost like a grown up fellow of
our own species. You know a lot, you are well-educated and you are intelligent. You even
come from one of the most civilised worlds, Kudal. Everywhere in the galaxy, Kudal is
known for producing excellent technology and distinguished individuals. How come that
an individual like you lived as an adventurer for so many years?’
Ben Sommer was silent for a while, thinking about what to answer. For the sake of
courtesy, he wanted to respond but he did not feel like telling all. ‘My parents invested a
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lot into me’, having decided to give the whole truth to his friend Mutulupamu Huwuyu, if
he so desired.
‘So, they hired expensive teachers for you’, the red-scaled alien tried to confirm what he
understood from his counterpart’s words.
‘Not only that’, Ben Sommer retorted. ‘I was a test-tube baby. Genetic optimization is the
key to my skills and abilities, to my strength and size.’
‘But that must be great to be made a perfect creature’, Mutulupamu Huwuyu supposed.
‘We Varanoides are what we are because we evolved to be like this; the best and fittest
survived longest and had most offspring. Therefore, we are naturally tough. You are
almost as strong and fast as one of us and your senses are almost as sharp as ours. That
must be great for you to have such an outstanding physique. I also realized that you are
very intelligent, disciplined, and resilient. You don’t fall sick either.’
‘That’s all true’, Ben Sommer confirmed. ‘My immune system must be excellent; or I am
extremely luck. You are right when you say that I don’t fall sick. I can’t remember having
been seriously ill anytime in my whole life. A few days of somewhat feeblish feeling; that’s
all that ever happened to me in terms of illness. Later on I learned that it was a disease
that easily could kill others if remaining untreated. My immune system coped with it on
its own in just a couple of days. But over all, it was extremely demanding to be like this.’
‘What that?’ Mutulupamu Huwuyu was astonished.
‘Because of genetic optimization, I am probably about twenty percent better on most
counts than the average human being; like all the physical properties that you mentioned’,
Ben Sommer estimated. ‘But the demands on me were to be at least two hundred percent
better than all the other children’, he explained. ‘You see, my parents spend a fortune to
have me made the way that I am, to have my genetic code cleansed of all defects; made
perfect, so to say. They expected from me to excel in each and every subject and discipline;
even in contradictory ones. A tall man can play basketball well but won’t be good in
artistic and apparatus gymnastics. Being a great swimmer and a great runner at the same
time is contradictory, too, as is being a great endurance runner and a great weight lifter.
In none of these disciplines I could ever be the best. I may be better than the average by
those mentioned one fifth but there will always be one person who is better than me in
each and every single discipline. And with academics it was the same. I was expected to
be the best, and the best by a wide margin, everywhere, in each subject, in each sport, in
anything that did; or rather had to do, because many of those things I did not like. Even
with excellent ears, it is tough to be a great piano and violin player if you’re also supposed
to excel in many sports. Holding iron in the fists for training muscles and boxing in the ring
does not leave a boy much time to play those musical instruments. Yet, if the boy is
supposed to be the top achiever in all of them, he must fail, even if he is twenty percent
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better than the average. These expectations were conferred to me very clearly and I was
told again and again how much I was a disappointment and that I owed my parents more
for all that they had done for me; paying for the genetic engineering, that is. There are
people who were molested during their childhood and physically abused in different ways.
I did not have to go through that. But I cannot remember having ever had any joy in my
childhood days; and throughout my youth, till I finally left planet Kudal and became an
adventurer. My family constantly demanded more and never was happy with what I could
deliver. And, believe me, I tried. I never played. I never had any free time. I was learning,
exercising, studying, training, all the time. There was no time for being a child or a
youngster and there was no time just for myself. I went away from Kudal because I could
not deliver what was demanded from me and at the same time could not stand the
pressure anymore. It was only as an adventurer when I finally could do what I wanted to
do that I experienced some peace of mind. When I am alone, then nobody was there to
exercise any pressure on me. The loneliness of the galaxy’s free areas gave me the
freedom to develop and find out who I actually am and what I really want. So, now you
know why I left Kudal and became an adventurer. I ran away from a situation where I
could never succeed because the bar was so high, and raised ever higher, that no human
at all could possibly achieve it. As I mentioned, I wasn’t only supposed to be the best in
each and every discipline, the best of all humans in the whole universe and at all times,
but be the best at a wide margin; and get ever better all the time, on top of that. It was
fight or flight and as I had to chance of winning the fight, I ultimately chose the flight.’
Mutulupamu Huwuyu had listened carefully to Ben Sommer’s account. ‘For me, in some
way, it was almost the precise opposite, to become the guardian of the secrets’; he told
his friend and partner. ‘My father was the guardian of this place already. The post had
been passed on in the family for ages. But I was not the only child of my father and there
were others who could take it over. I grew up in the free areas of the galaxy but at a fairly
young age I came to some of our own big states. You know, we Varanoides also have
highly developed civilisations; they are on the other side of the galaxy. Their technology
and level of organisations to me seems well advanced from even the most sophisticated
big states of the humans that I ever visited. I happened to live in possibly the most
modern such society that our race has produced; and I liked it. Having grown up in the
free areas of the galaxy gave me toughness and had equipped me with some skills and
experiences that proved valuable in that civilised environment. Our civilisations are
somewhat different from yours, so I cannot say if the same held true for a human
adventurer’s child going to a highly evolved human civilisation. Anyway, in our case it is
like that. There, I was doing well and I loved my life in the most grandiose civilisation that
my species has erected. But then, some unforeseen course of events led to the demands
that I came back here to Tasik Perak and get quickly inducted into all the secrets of the
treasure and the place and how to master the means of defence at the disposal of the
sentinel. I cannot say that I was glad about the task. I felt it to be a burden. Stilt today, I
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sometimes think back and day-dream about how all could have been different. But by the
years, I also came to like this place here and whenever I am away for long, I feel that I am
missing Lake Karep Kisat and the valley and the whole planet, actually. Now, maybe I am
happier here than in the great civilisations. So, you see, you ran away from the civilisation
to the free areas of the galaxy and I was called back from the civilisation into the
wilderness. Both of us did not do what we wanted but what others made us do. And now,
you, who ran away from it, are bringing civilisation to me, who was called out of it, but
who came to cherish the wilderness.’
After they had spoken about their personal experiences with each other, the friendship
between Ben Sommer and Mutulupamu Huwuyu grew ever deeper. Entrusting each other
with these very personal matters increased their understanding and respect for each
other. Their initially predominantly self-interested cooperation turned into imperturbable
confidence in the other ones honesty. The mutual understanding of their characters and
motivations helped them to avoid misunderstandings and unnecessary suspicion. As
respective leaders of the local Varanoide and human populations, their trust into each
other educed an effective and productive collaboration of the different groups. The
mining settlement on planet Tasik Perak developed very well under their common
guidance.
Of course, not everybody was only and entirely happy all the time; some issues came up
occasionally. Yet, all big problems that could have led to fissures in the fabric of friendship
were avoided pre-emptively and smaller incidents that could lead to bigger issues were
handled swiftly and appropriately. Small fallacies were not allowed to turn a mutually
beneficial and productive cooperation into a failure.
Walterson, for example, kept on for the rest of his life to have reveries about the treasure,
its fantastic worth and the notion that somehow he was entitled to it. He controlled
himself well enough to keep those ideas from causing a nuisance to anyone else. It was
day-dreams of unheard of richness, beyond even the wildest imagination, that befell him
at times. Most of the time, though, he was working together with Sherbetor and there he
learned a lot from the engineer. One single alone turned out to be way too few such
educated people for the needs and requirements of such a considerable mining operation;
let alone the other demands on his expertise, like civil construction requests concerning
edifices for housing and work and infrastructure. Walterson already possessed a good
knowledge of those matters and Sherbetor was glad to have somebody around him who
could help with the less complicated tasks. Bit by bit, Sherbetor told Walterson quite a lot;
as much as the other man would be willing and able to take up.
Privately, Sherbetor invested the proceeds from his share of the mining operation
partially back into the ore veins on planet Tasik Perak and partially into plantations. With
his brother’s help, he had a plantation set up in the vicinity of the original agricultural
business. After some time, the famous name Sherbetor’s Plantation was superseded by
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the even more illustrious term Sherbetors’ Plantations. He two brothers increased the
food production on their land enormously and sold their produce to many worlds in that
region. With the population growth in that part of the galaxy, their operations grew
enormously to become some of the biggest and most productive plantations at all.
Like the engineer, Duref also used the proceeds from his share of the mining business to
invest something into farming. He had inherited some little fortune anyway and among
his relatives where were several with decent amounts of personal property. He advised
them to invest along with him into the mining business on Tasik Perak. Part of the returns
due to his share, Duref literally ploughed into his land; and into buying some more land at
first and then lots of more land with the growing yield of silver and gold and other
precious metals flowing into his pockets. His work-based share of the mining proceeds
wasn’t even so high because he was the youngest man of the whole group and he
accordingly had comparatively little knowledge and skills in mining and construction or
anything else that was in great demand on Tasik Perak. His inheritance allowed him some
investments, though, and by helping to purchase equipment he secured a bigger share of
the proceeds for himself, too.
Being young, Duref somehow managed to cope better with the great loss that he had
suffered at the merciless hands of the devilish Lom Claybrinck than the old man
Lentbender, who continued to be calm and suffer from the emotional pain associated
with his feeling of loss and helplessness to save his family; or even bring them back. He
continued to live on and work along with the other adventurers but it was apparent that
he was just dragging himself through life. After the confirmed death of his family’s slayer,
the brutal villain Claybrinck, Lentbender had become somewhat quiet and lethargic, and
withdraw themselves from the others to some degree. He remained a faithful and
cooperative companion and supported the other adventurers with his strength and
experience and even with his calmness, as he wasn’t to be disturbed by anything much
anymore. Yet, his friends felt that Lentbender was suffering in silence. Before the death of
his arch-enemy Claybrinck, the feverish fire of fury ferociously fed his never-forgiving
fervour, the deep desire of ravenous revenge rumbled in his chest, the thought of the
abysmally abhorrent abomination who mercilessly tortured his family to death occupied
his mind. But with the death of Claybrinck those all left and a void remained that the old
Lentbender was never again able to fill. The felt too old for founding another family and
his devotion to his loved ones was not replaced by lust for gold and silver, that manages
to make other men forget anything else, at least for some time. So, of all the adventurers,
who had come together to planet Tasik Perak and who grew rich there together, too,
Lentbender was the one who was least happy, because no treasure to be found in the
whole universe could bring back the treasure he lost by the hands of the villain; and that
treasure was his family, who were irrecoverable dead.
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In contrast to the sad fate of his former logging companions Lentbender, Tom Grand never
experienced an equal loss and thus did not have to cope with the corresponding
implications; emotional and material. He felt for his friend as much as a man who was not
personally affected could feel for another man who had experienced a severe loss but he
could not help the old man either. But life went on for him, too, and his energetic
approach together with his quick wit turned him into a wealth man soon.
The Varanoide chieftains, Achesh Akanem and Karumir Marudy took care of the beneficial
used of the mining proceeds that accrued to their respective tribes. Among the
Varanoides, a certain share of those mining proceeds was not divided and handed out to
the cooperating companions but remained with the tribes as such in a common vault from
which expenses were covered that became due to pay for rituals, places of warship, and
certain tribal affairs. The humans on Tasik Perak also organised something similar but in
their case, the common vault was much smaller, containing much less, and being used for
fewer items. Apart from continuing to run their own tribes, the two chieftains Achesh
Akanem and Karumir Marudy also served the whole community in their councils by
providing good advice, supplied by their long experience and high intelligence, and
worked to create and maintain good understanding between the involved two species.
With time, more inhabitants had to be admitted to Tasik Perak. With their role and
prerogatives as the original landlords of the planet, the coalition of adventurers and the
two Varanoides who had lived there before kept on determining the fate of that world.
They voluntarily complied with the laws of the Allied Jurisdictions of the Beautiful Worlds
which they had voluntarily ascended, but they also used those rules and regulations to
their benefit and to keep Tasik Perak as they preferred it to be. The protection by the big
state’s military allowed them to live in peace and their continuous ownership in
combination with the difficult access through the comparatively narrow hyperspace
streams in the vicinity kept them from receiving of flood or un-wanted attention.
The biggest and most valuable treasure that the human and Varanoide adventurers found
on planet Tasik Perak was, that consisted of their friendship. Different as they were, they
yet created a place where they all could be as they were and still live together well. For
them, this harsh yet also very rich and overwhelmingly beautiful world turned into the
fulfilment of their dreams of wealth, peace, safety, cohesion, and mutual solidarity
because of the firm and solid friendship that they had developed during the days when
their life was tough and rough. Back then, they had learned to rely on each other and to
trust each other and that wonderful amity remained with them even once they grew
wealthy and lived in comfortable homes, having all the conveniences that life had to offer
the rich. From that time on, they lived happily on planet Tasik Perak until there came to
them the one who destroys all happiness in this world, the unavoidable death.
THE END
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The Great Galactic Treasure Hunt

Transcription

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