... Bargain at the Price
by
Neil Davies
"Szuilta? Who in their right mind would take a trade to Szuilta?"
Steve Drake shot an amused glance at the man who had spoken, a tall, broad, unshaven stereotype of a Trader. There were mumbles of agreement from some of the twenty or so other men and women crowded before the 'Available For Tender' holoboard.
"I can't help feeling the spirit of adventure is somewhat lacking in you." Steve tried hard to keep the laughter out of his voice. He didn't mind teasing this mountain of a man, but he didn't want to antagonize him.
The man sneered down at him.
"Adventure? I'm in this business to make a living, not to have adventures!"
He reached over Steve's head and pressed his finger to a trade with Aks, one of the ex-colonial worlds, further down the list. Having registered his interest in the job he turned, grumbling "adventure" under his breath, and pushed out of the group.
Other Traders reached forward, registering for trades and moving away, some on their own, others in small groups of two or three. Steve Drake waited, a slight lopsided grin on his lean face, his eyes fixed on the top line:
Trade to Szuilta. Assorted metal ores and chemical compounds. Non-combustible. Non-toxic. GD12,000.
It was a 'safe trade', transporting safe materials to a planet not currently at war with anyone, yet no fingers went near it. None even hesitated, considered it. Even the temptation of 12,000 Galactic Dollars, almost twice as much as any other trade on display, did not draw them. It seemed no one wanted to take on the adventure. A trade with the only truly alien intelligence ever discovered by the ever-expanding human race.
He shook his head, blonde hair in need of a cut and a wash tickling his eyes, and reached forward.
####
"So, you're the one. You're the adventurer."
The girl behind the counter chewed gum and twirled a strand of hair around her finger as she spoke.
"Word spreads fast," smiled Steve as he inserted his ID Card and waited while the Reagold Corporation IdentMac 2 scanned his retinal pattern for comparison.
"Don't you think it's kinda dangerous?" The girl's pale blue eyes flickered over Steve's slim, trackover-covered body. She frowned, as if she had expected something more impressive.
"It's just a trade." He bent to retrieve his card from the floor where the IdentMac 2 had spat it.
The girl smiled.
"The machine's screwed. We've been waiting two months for a repair man."
"No problem." Steve slid his card into the breast pocket of his grey trackovers. "Can I have my clearance now?"
"Sure. Just waiting for the computer to catch up."
She looked down at the screen, then back up at Steve, thoughtful.
"Aren't you scared? I mean, there's been all kinds of rumours in the press."
"Rumours are just rumours. I don't listen to them. It's just a trade."
She took the small encoded card produced by the computer, hesitated before handing it over.
"But they're not even, you know.... Human!"
Steve smiled as he reached out and took the card gently from her unresisting fingers.
"That's what makes it an adventure."
####
"Your mother wants to know why you haven't called."
Steve winced.
"Tell her I've been busy."
"Loans4All called. Last month's payment on your ship was refused by the bank."
Steve sighed.
"Tell them I'm on a trade and I'll pay them when I get back."
"Suzy wants to know why you haven't been returning her calls."
Steve groaned.
"Tell her I'm dead."
"End of messages."
He reached forward and clicked off the newly installed Reagold Corporation MessageComp, swivelling in the command chair to face the main flight board. Only the loans call worried him. He couldn't afford to have his ship repossessed ... again. A Trader without a ship was unemployed. He was only just getting back on his feet after last time.
"They'll wait," he reassured himself. "Once they hear how much this trade is worth, they'll wait. I'll even be able to pay a bit extra, get them off my back for a while."
"Hope there'll be some money in this for me as well. You owe me at least three months salary. And hasn't anyone ever told you that talking to yourself is a sign of madness?"
Steve swivelled again to face the doorway and the tall, gangly man standing there.
"The only sign of madness I've ever displayed is employing you."
The man grinned.
"My father, your uncle and business partner, would probably agree with you. But he wanted me off the ranch and out in the big wide world, so ..."
"... I was the lucky one. Make yourself useful and tell me how close they are to finishing loading."
Gregory Drake sat himself in the co-pilot's seat.
"That's what I was coming to tell you. They've all but finished. Just making sure everything's secure. You need to go and sign for it."
Steve smiled.
"And then we're off. Back in the money. Back in business!"
####
The Seven Deadly Sins coughed and spluttered on the gantry. Its once gleaming silver hull, now speckled with the ugly scars of too many years ploughing the trade routes, shuddered, vibrated. The engines growled to life on the third try with an angry, uncomfortable sound that made at least one of the watching ground crew take several steps backwards.
In the control room of the old ship, Steve Drake smiled as the flight board sparkled to life before him, dials swinging into place, lights glowing and then dimming to normal as each onboard system was checked by the computer.
"I still can't believe you bought this heap of junk." Gregory sat further back from the board, in the navigator's seat. He looked nervously around the shaking walls.
"She's a classic. An antique."
"Should be in a museum, certainly."
Steve frowned. "She was all I could afford."
"You do know they had to bring the gantry out of storage for this? There's no other ship in the merchant fleet old enough to need it!"
Steve grinned. "Just because she's old doesn't make her obsolete." He reached over and patted the flight board lovingly. "She'll make us rich. Trading with Szuilta."
Gregory sighed. He knew his cousin well enough to recognise the signs. The stubborn ignoring of the obvious. The sparkle in the eye. Trading wasn't Steve's profession, it was his life. The romance and adventure of a trade like this overwhelmed all other considerations.
In truth, Gregory was more than happy to ride along. He was not above the thrill of the adventure himself. And the promise of money didn't hurt either.
One thing still concerned him though.
"I wish you'd changed the name at least. The Seven Deadly Sins is just ridiculous!"
Steve laughed. "I like it."
####
Sellit control watched the ungainly ship struggle free of the launch gantry and plough its way though the atmosphere. Its aerodynamics were minimal and it wasted far too much ancient, polluting fuel dragging itself away from the gravitational pull of the planet.
The Seven Deadly Sins was an old class of trade ship, one of those built in orbit and never really expected to make landfall except in an emergency. Only a necessary refit had brought it to the surface this time, a refit ordered by its new owner.
"Drake actually bought that thing?"
"His last ship got caught in the firing line out near Greelad. A raiding party from Earth decided to drop by while he was planetside sealing a deal. He lost everything."
"Even so ..."
"Guess it was all he could afford."
"And now he's taken on the Szuilta trade? Is he crazy? Hasn't he heard the rumours?"
####
As with all interplanetary journeys on any but the most modern and luxurious of star-liners, the time spent travelling to Szuilta was long and dull.
Except in the most unusual of cases, the combatants involved in the many and varied interplanetary disputes that raged at any given time in the known galaxy stayed away from the assigned trade routes. All but the most resource-rich of planets relied heavily on imports for survival, and the traders of Sellit held the monopoly on trade. It would not do to risk their displeasure.
In consequence, trade ships travelling the agreed lanes were invariably safe from attack and seldom saw any ships except other traders. That, in turn, led to a heavy, crushing boredom.
Most relied on drugs to compensate.
Steve and Gregory did not take drugs. It was not a moral position, nor was it a health concern. They just couldn't afford them.
Gregory played chess against the computer and lost.
Steve studied star charts, listened to the small selection of music chips he had onboard, and read science fiction, dreaming of adventure among the stars. It was this that had led him into the life of a Trader in the first place. His last adventure had cost him his ship, even if he wasn't on it at the time. He hoped this adventure would be both less traumatic and more exciting.
"Human craft. Identify!"
The obviously non-organic voice blared suddenly from the flight board speaker, startling Steve from the pages of his book. Behind him he heard chess pieces clatter to the floor.
"Human craft?" Gregory leaned forward, his chin almost touching Steve's shoulder in his eagerness to get closer to the board.
Steve shrugged, nudging Gregory's chin. Grinning, he pressed the switch over to 'transmit'.
"This is the trade ship The Seven Deadly Sins out of Sellit bound for Szuilta. Consignment number..." He slid his card into the reader slot on the flight board and peered at the small inlaid screen. "SZ900X12."
"Consignment confirmed. We are now in control."
"In control?" Steve looked at Gregory and saw the same question there. How?
The ship juddered, trembled, and the ever-present background noise of the drive engines died.
A quick check of the flight board showed that they were still moving, turning in fact, presumably into position behind the other vessel.
"I'm guessing they're Szuiltans?" Gregory sat back down in his navigator's chair as he spoke.
"I'm guessing you're right. Whatever they've used to take control of us is new to me."
"Alien technology." Gregory nodded wisely. "Far in advance of our own."
"Different certainly. But however advanced they might be, they still need something we have, otherwise why pay for the trade?"
He reached for the exterior camera console
"Let's have a look at our welcoming committee."
####
The Szuiltan craft was disconcerting in its lack of visibility. At times it could only be seen by the absence of stars rather than any physical outline of its own. When it could be seen it was unnerving in its plainness.
It was long, at least three times the length of The Seven Deadly Sins, and tubular. Its diameter was barely enough for an average man to stand in. And it was smooth. Judging from the moments of clarity and the outline against the stars, there were no protuberances along the hull. Even the sleekest of human ships had satellites, cameras, probes, antennae. The Szuiltan craft had none.
"How do they see where they're going?" wondered Gregory. "No windows, no cameras, no sensors... at least none that I can see."
"Would we recognise a Szuiltan sensor or camera if we saw one?"
Gregory shrugged and stepped away from the viewscreen.
"I'm going to the head. Shout if anything happens."
Steve nodded vaguely, his eyes on the screen, a faint smile twitching the corner of his mouth at his cousin's quick acceptance of the situation. As if it were all just routine. Steve was not quite ready for that.
There was something about the Szuiltan craft that didn't seem right, beyond the obvious differences. It was an alien craft, and he was one of the few humans ever to see such a thing, but somehow it didn't seem alien enough!
He couldn't think it through clearly in his own head, let alone try and explain it to Gregory or anyone else. But the Szuiltan craft wasn't that different.
Perhaps he was just disappointed? Reality seldom lived up to expectation.
####
Almost 30 hours after they had first been taken in tow by the Szuiltan craft, its homeworld was close enough to view at only minimum magnification.
"It's ..." Gregory seemed to struggle for words as he once again leant over Steve's shoulder, peering at the viewscreen.
"What?"
"... Boring, really."
"Just another lump of rock encased in a climate dome."
Gregory turned to look at Steve, a slight smile playing at the corner of his mouth as if he were trying to suppress it.
"I thought you were all fired up with the sense of adventure?"
Steve shrugged. "Maybe when we get on the surface. After all, from this distance one planet is pretty much like another." And I can't get rid of this feeling that something's not quite right.
####
They were led along the approach path and through the climate lock of the semi-solid, constantly adjusting protective shield around the planet. There was nothing unfamiliar about it to Steve and, although he wouldn't swear to it, he thought he glimpsed the stylised curving 'R' logo of the Reagold Corporation drifting past. Perhaps that wasn't surprising? The largest, most powerful technology corporation in the known galaxy was not going to miss the possibilities of trading with an alien race, the alien race.
Both men aboard The Seven Deadly Sins were silent as the ungainly ship was guided down towards the planet surface and they caught their first glimpse of The Great Sea, as one of those explorers who made first contact with the Szuiltans so unimaginatively christened it.
The Great Sea covered, according to those first and only estimates, almost three quarters of the planet's surface and was the only surface water found on Szuilta. There were no rivers running into or out of it. If there was rainfall on the planet, and none had ever been documented, it left behind no lakes, streams or even puddles on the solid landmass, the single island where the Szuiltans lived. It was presumed by those human scientists attempting to learn more about this alien race and its planet that The Great Sea was fed by underground water sources, although none had been detected on the minimal scanning allowed by the Szuiltans.
The Szuiltans themselves showed no interest in The Great Sea, nor in their planet generally. They had a place to live. That was the beginning and end of their interest. They seemed incapable of understanding the curiosity shown by the human scientists who regularly requested, and were refused, permission to visit and study.
The Szuiltan craft ahead of them skimmed the waves, flying so low that occasional wind-flicked foam would spatter the hull. The Seven Deadly Sins, in contrast, could not be described as 'skimming' by even the most imaginative of poets. It blundered. It ploughed. It smashed through everything before it, air and sea, like an enraged bull in a particularly fine and delicate china shop.
Gregory fastened his seat belt as the ship shuddered and rattled.
"Are they trying to kill us?"
Steve, fists gripping the edges of his seat but, as yet, not belted in, let out a long, slow breath. It helped to calm him. Slightly.
"I guess they like a low approach to their island. Maybe it's screened above a certain height?" Or maybe they just like to scare the shit out of visitors!
On the viewscreen now he could see the hard line of the island cutting across the horizon. As he watched, the granite-like cliffs seemed to grow out of the water, rising higher and higher, sharp jagged peaks and gouged valleys growing sharper as they approached at high speed.
Weather erosion on a planet with so little weather?
The leading edge of the island seemed almost carved. A sculptor's idea of what a mountain range should look like. But solid nonetheless.
"If we don't pull up soon …"
Steve had almost closed his eyes, was grimacing from the expected collision, when the two ships finally rose sharply, barely clearing the topmost peaks of the mountains, and levelled out above a grey, flat, unmarked desert of a landscape.
Gregory, still unwilling to unfasten his seat belt, leaned backwards to get a clearer view of the screen on the flight board.
"Not exactly densely populated is it? Where's the spaceport?"
Steve, peering further into the distance, pointed at the screen.
"Think down."
The desert fell away beneath them and they dropped into an enormous depression in the surface. Steve estimated it to be at least five miles in diameter. Shadows thrown by the Szuiltan sun, filtered through the climate shield, seemed to gather at the centre. The deep black of the shadows concealed the ground within, only as they drew nearer, Steve realised that there was no ground within, just a hole leading down into the planet's interior.
This was their destination.
They lost external visual as The Seven Deadly Sins sank below the planet's surface. Steve tried half-heartedly to get the signal back, but he had no real doubts that the Szuiltans controlled that just as they controlled everything else about their journey here.
The descent was short and surprisingly smooth, particularly after the rough ride across The Great Sea. When they came to a stop it was sudden but not jarring. Other than a few creaks and groans, the ship settled calmly into its berth at the Szuiltan spaceport.
"Humans."
Steve jumped as the voice exploded from the flight board.
"Prepare to disembark while we unload your cargo."
Steve glanced back at Gregory who shook his head slowly.
Steve flicked the transmit switch.
"We prefer to stay with our ship."
"Humans must disembark!"
The spaceport they stepped out onto was not that different than other spaceports around the galaxy. The main area was wide, empty space for ships to land and take-off. Around the edges were loading and unloading berths, one of which now housed The Seven Deadly Sins. The whole area was surrounded by tall, windowless walls. There was no apparent way out.
Steve had time to notice that the other berths were all empty before his attention was drawn by a small floating globe. It approached them silently, stopping within three feet of them.
"You will follow me."
The voice emanated from the globe and sounded very much like the voice that had spoken to them onboard their ship.
Steve heard Gregory mumble "Like we have a choice?" before they both fell in behind the globe.
They wanted to be impressed, to be awestruck by the strangeness, the alienness of their surroundings, but other than a cleverly hidden doorway in one of the walls, they saw nothing but a plain corridor as they were led away from the spaceport.
"I don't think much of your adventure," whispered Gregory as they walked further into the featureless interior.
####
The Szuiltan President undulated on his floating slab. His shapeless form dripped over the edges and pooled on the floor, gelatinous, fluid, grey and ever changing. As he spoke in the bubbling, gurgling language of Szuilta the top of his form pulsated with the same disjointed rhythm of his speech.
"They have arrived?"
The Presidential Advisor, drifting around the President on his own slab in the circular, lazy dance that was indicative of a subservient Szuiltan in conference with his superior, pulsated in reply.
"Yes President. They are, at this moment, being led to the allotted chamber."
"Call my guards. I will not wait any longer. Take me to them!"
####
The room that Steve and Gregory were led into was as featureless as the corridor they left behind.
"You will wait here." The globe hovered by the door. "The President is on his way."
"The President?" Steve glanced towards Gregory. "Maybe now things might get interesting?"
The globe backed out of the doorway and disappeared along the corridor.
Steve waited, expecting a door to slide shut across the opening. Nothing happened.
"They're not worried about us wandering off then?" said Gregory, taking a step towards the corridor.
"Why should we?" Steve leant in what he hoped was a nonchalant way against a wall, trying not to show any of the nervousness that twisted in his stomach. "We came here to trade. They're unloading the cargo and we get an audience with their President. They've no reason to worry about us wandering off."
"I guess not." Gregory stepped back into the middle of the room. "This is not really turning out as I expected."
A wet, slithering from somewhere above them brought Steve away from the wall.
"Did you hear that?"
Gregory, about to look up, saw a movement from the corner of his eye and turned towards the doorway. The globe had returned.
"Steve."
Steve turned and saw the globe as it spoke.
"The President of Szuilta has arrived."
Neither Steve nor Gregory could do anything as the President and his Advisor dropped from the ceiling pathways. They landed on the humans' heads, their semi-fluid forms oozing over faces, filling eyes, noses, mouths.
Steve clawed at the President's body, trying to pull it away from him. But his fingers did no more than pull gelatinous lumps away that quickly flowed back to the main form. Then the President poured further down, trapping his arms, circling his waist.
As he fell to the floor, Steve was vaguely aware of Gregory also falling, cocooned in the grey slime of the Presidential Advisor.
For a moment he thought he saw something familiar drift in front of his blurred and burning eyes. A swirling 'R'. The logo of The Reagold Corporation?
He felt strangely disappointed. So much for an alien race! Then he felt nothing at all.
"A feast, President!" bubbled the Advisor.
"Indeed. Expensive but worth every Galactic Dollar."
The Szuiltan's digestive juices began their work.
"A bargain at the price!"
THE END
© 2005 by Neil Davies
Neil Davies's dark fantasy and horror stories have appeared in a number of online venues, including oncewritten.com, Whispers of Wickedness, and Estronomicon, among others. His science fiction novel, A World of Assassins, is available from www.publishamerica.com.
Website: NWDavies.co.uk
E-mail: Neil Davies
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