Down A Peg

[The Pakkrat]

Down A Peg pt. 26

The crew of the Gatherer spent a day shopping on the Market level of Serue Highport in orbit over the mainworld. Since the Highport's climate was controlled, the Vargr found no desert robes. Professor Zannun crossed his arms and spoke to Capt. Kakhskha, "I told you we wouldn't find what you are looking for up here. A shuttle down to the mainworld bazaar is where you'll find our desert robes, Captain."

"Is it hot down there, Professor?" asked the beige female from Roethoeegaeaegz.

"See the 'He' on our extended Universal World Profile or UWP, Captain?" asked Zannun. "It means Hellworld, conditions extreme edge for sophont survival. The next four worlds you intend for us to visit on the route to Zhiblchins will put us upon that edge. Deserts, corrosive atmospheres, lawlessness and more await us. I've been talking with Dead-Hex about the route your Matron has suggested. It may indeed be a crack in the Crystal Wall of Knoellighz and one a typical Trader can't cross, but the worlds are going to test us."

"Do you have further suggestion, Professor?" queried Capt. Kakhskha.

"Serue has the highest known technology in Knoellighz Sector, Captain. In addition to desert robes, if we are going to be Agents of the Ascendancy Pact, unofficial and secret, we might want to protect ourselves under the robes. It won't do to wear our ship's Hazardous Environment Vacc Suits in the Startowns of Zhiblchins. We would stand out, attracting the attention of the curious and law enforcement who might question us."

"Something light, durable, able to deal with hazardous environments, breathing requirements and yet be compact enough to wear under our robes as we explore for answers to the Matron's questions."

"Now you're thinking like an Agent, Capt. Kakhskha."

 

[The Pakkrat]

Down A Peg pt. 27

177-1105 Serue (Knoellighz 1221) A320589-F De He Ni Po Cp NaVa

"Ancients it's hot," panted Dead-Hex. As the female Vargr tried on desert robe after desert robe, the Astrogator stood under the most opaque overhang he could find in proximity to the shop at the open-air bazaar. Beside him and taller, Prof. Zannun smiled. He was panting as vigorously as Dead-Hex but continued sipping from his water canteen, a large, two-liter model. Both wore filtered respirators that concentrated the tainted, outdoor atmosphere to denser pressures, cleaned it and then released the air to the user's intake of breath. Alternating between drinking, panting and breathing was the routine of the day as the ladies compared and contrasted their finds to the Psi-Shield shemagh from the day before.

"Keep drinking water, spacer," smiled the Seruean with a straw between his lupine teeth. Though the planet's technology was on the bleeding edge, the planet's climate did not give the same indication. There was only one city on the mainworld and it surrounded the local Downport. Mountains about the white city sheltered the Vargr here from sandstorms, but the effect was likened to standing in a crucible under the glare of the twin Red Dwarf duelist primaries. Some mean-spirited, deity concept of the Leaguer's was surely aiming its burning gaze directly at the mottled Third Officer from the Infinity League. "Does the League have any worlds this hot or 'hellish'?" Zannun asked.

"Adhgurrgh and Uengsok (Knoellighz 0836 and 0832)" breathed Dead-Hex, "though I've never been to either. Desert commerce generally only suits other Desert worlds." The Merchant went back to panting, breathing and drinking water.

"We have some winners!" giggled Lt. Anghal as the female Vargr returned to the two males. Dead-Hex and Zannun had picked out their solid color robes an hour before, finding a fit that the Professor agreed would hide the suits he suggested to Capt. Kakhkha. Dead-Hex had chosen black while Zannun settled on a deep blue color that shimmered with a metallic quality. The females had a time finding checkered patterns, stripes, wave-forms, swirls and even tie-dyes that had been en vogue five years ago on Serue. Politely, the Seruean smiled at each of the purchased examples. Like an economic analyst, the Captain noted the expenditures by hand on paper. Ever the business Vargr.

"Can-can we go now?" whined the Astrogator.

 

[The Pakkrat]

Down A Peg pt. 27a

Kakhskha had never shopped for any clothing other than for pure business. On her homeworld of Roethoeegaeaegz, the females wore what suited their careers while the males were arrayed in finery to please the eye of the matriarchy perusing them for Selection. This was the norm. This was how she was raised. The so-called Traveller gene in her was taking Kakhskha places where either the female Vargr dressed to be esthetically pleasing or both genders wore fashion trends of the day. This was new to the beige female and she rode along with Lt. Anghal, her Chief Engineer the entire shopping trip. She had thought to sit out the bazaar trip and trust to Anghal for her own desert robe, but the female from Duelunogorrzuez had parried with logic that Kakhskha would be needed for fitting. Measurements were not enough in the Engineer's eyes. Though grid-iron and military, the valkyrie Ardell from Nouon was more receptive than Kakhskha to shopping. The Marine took to shopping like she was at some surplus depot.

Now back in orbit and shopping for the high-tech, tactical 'Agent' suits that Prof. Zannun had suggested, Kakhskha checked in on Lt. Anghal. The pair were generally in charge of attracting Passengers, the next destination being Souo (Knoellighz 1020). The capital of Engakhs subsector was just a single jump of two parsecs away and over the border from Irrarrdhang subsector. In the entirety of Knoellighz, Serue and Souo were the only subsector Capitals this close to each other. Kakhskha found Anghal on the concourse just outside the gate to the hangar where the Gatherer waited. The Inspection and Repair Only As Really Necessary, or IROARN, was almost completed. The Captain looked at her available funds and gasped.

Instead of the 55,000Cr she expected to see in the ship's available funds, the beige female Vargr discovered the number was much higher. She had to look at the list of deposits, payments and withdrawals to make sure she was looking at an accurate number of 126,000Cr. Matron preserve her, Kakhskha saw deposits from the other crewmembers. Each had donated their personal money with memorandums of "Mission Funds" attached to them. Surprised and bewildered, she looked down to Anghal.

Though Kakhskha had to shake the Lieutenant out of another of her miniature, mental lockups, she asked, "You and the others did this?" Added to the question was the displayed account report on the flat screen of her Portable Controller.

Lt. Anghal muffled a snicker with both claws over her muzzle. But then when she could speak after being brought back to the here and now, the chocolate-furred female reported, "We discussed it, the four of us, and decided that if our lives are on the line that we would pay any price for both safety and mission success, ma'am."

Kakhskha was beside herself. As a Merchant and in her experience, charity was unheard of. But given the nature of this mission, the Captain had to agree with the logic. She too would pay any price for the safety of her crew, the success of the mission and peace between the Ascendancy Pact and Serue. "Me too then, Anghal," she said trembling with tears in her eyes. "I'm in." The two hugged each other at the concourse gate.

 

[The Pakkrat]

Down A Peg pt. 28

The crew began donning the newly-arrived ModSHeSV-8aTePfGs. “Now that is a long string of confusion,” said Dead-Hex who read the packaging. Capt. Kakhskha had ordered that everyone was to put on the new outfits and wear them as often as they could, to break them in to their wearers.

Zannun, who had his new suit out of the box, explained, “It means Modified, Small, Hostile Environment, Suit for Vargr, Tech Level 8 with air tanks, ear protection, flash goggles and stealthy options. It’s just how everything gets truncated for a society with short attention spans.”

Minutes later, the Astrogator was tugging at the pelvic sections hugging him tightly. The entire black ensemble was likened to a close-fitting, curve-hugging bodysuit with embedded impact plastic armor plates, sealed and insulated from the outside world. He had the ear protection and flash goggles finally adjusted when he saw Zannun talking to him. He couldn’t hear a word. “WHAT?”

The Professor reached up to Dead-Hex’s covered ears and slid a simple switch that felt to him like an ear-hoop. “I said, you have to put the head piece on before the goggles, Third Officer.”

“This suit is very, uh hmm snug, especially in the crotch,” complained the mottled gray and black male.

“It’s why the Captain wants us to break in these suits,” reiterated the Professor. “A few weeks in these ‘uniforms’ as she calls them and we should become accustomed to them as a second hide and easily conceal them under the desert robes. They might save our lives either from a harsh environment or from Zhodani ire.”

Dead-Hex was still adjusting his fit and nodded, “Yeah, I get it, but I’m starting to wonder if I got a female suit.”

“Or you are having wishful thinking, Astrogator,” hummed the older male with a smile.

Dead-Hex soon forgot his cramped quarters suit upon seeing the females already suited up in the form-fitting bodysuits. His eyes grew wide at seeing the lithe bodies in an armor that made the females look sleek. Sleek and seduct-

“Look at lover-boy there!” called Marine Lt. Ardell who first saw the two males enter wearing their tight suits. “Mmm-mm Mmmm. What the ladies back home could do with that!” She giggled and thumbed a claw at Dead-Hex.

Captain Kakhskha turned to face the arriving males. Dead-Hex’ heart started thumping in his containment. Was the suit getting smaller? She was dressed in the ladies’ version of the same suit with only her head and tail exposed. The head piece was folded in a hip pouch and the flash goggles hung on the same waist belt. She was fitting her laz-pistol into a holster on her upper thigh, belting it to the same thigh. Merely seeing the females move in such lithe outfits, mundanely donning the suits, made Dead-Hex uncomfortable. The cat calls and the feasting eyes of the females, (even his friend Anghal was looking at him), was having an effect.

“Well,” said Kakhskha, “turn around, Dead-Hex. Let’s see you. Everything fit okay?”

“The reviews said that while overall satisfaction was experienced, Captain,” reported Prof. Zannun beside Dead-Hex, “it also said there were certain Drawbacks.”

“All armors have disadvantages, Professor,” answered Lt. Ardell. “Even my valkyrie Battledress had flaws that all the work under the sun wouldn’t buff out. It’s the price you pay for the protection. Male-up, lil squire. Most males back home don’t get to wear armors or protections this high-tech.”

The Scholar didn’t react to the lesser title and offered instead, “The reviews do say that if a component, say the air tanks, isn’t needed, then we can detach them and their associated Drawback. I am noticing abdominal muscle tension as we walk around with the air tanks on our backs.”

The Marine countered with, “Yeah, tell me about it. Now add that armor with all the gear and weapons a valkyrie has to tote around. You’ll buff up real nice after a few weeks of that kind of load-out. The two of you could stand to lose a few kilos, right there, above the belt.”

“Everyone is to wear at least the suit but to keep the Options at hand, all the way to Zhiblchins,” ordered Capt. Kakhskha. “You can wear loose clothing over the suits if you wish, but we are to break these in all the way there, even in front of the Passengers. You can call them uniforms if you have to field questions. Once this mission is over, we can take them off and go back to our old wardrobes."

"Aww," whined Lt. Ardell. "They look hawt in those suits, Captain."

Dead-Hex needed another very cold shower.

 

[The Pakkrat]

Down A Peg pt. 29

The crew stood as a group in their new suits. Kakhskha broke the stares and ogling between the – oh, aerodynamic was the descriptor she chose - bodies before her. She had one more announcement to make before the Gatherer could begin its mission in earnest. There was a second shakeup she had to implement and it would balance the paychecks and duties across the crew.

“New assignments, guys,” the Captain said with more firmness than during the fitting. Kakhskha produced new hardcopy sheets that she had hidden among the inventories she had received, the jump route, mission parameters, cargo manifest and other minutiae of starship operations. “Read each carefully,” she said as she distributed each sheaf of paper to its corresponding crewmember.

Lt. Ardell looked first at Dead-Hex’ sheet of assignments and said, “You’re putting Dead-Hex on helm, Captain? Wasn’t that your favorite position? It’s the best seat on the Bridge.”

Kakhskha felt the subtle, social ping on her Charisma from her Marine friend. “This ship just got real. Even Prof. Zannun is getting a new role. I’m taking over the Galley.”

Except for Zannun who seemed slightly surprised, the other crewmembers let out a satisfied sigh or took a breath of fresh air. Zannun’s cooking, for a Desert worlder, was atrocious. Nobody seemed to keep down his dirtsider meals. The Passengers had secretly posted negative feedback to Kakhskha as Captain of the Surveyor ship. He had to be taken off Steward. As the best customer service, cook and Purser, the beige female had to admit she was a Merchant first, a business Vargr before a starship operator. Her Flight School training was still sub-par to Dead-Hex’ ace piloting. In the interest of mission success, she had to bow out and give him the Pilot-Astrogator, Computer Tech and some Gunner duties. What she did have over the male from Duelunogorrzuez was the sight, SensOps was her gift.

“I know that Dead-Hex has been winging it on Sensors,” continued Kakhskha. “He’s the best of us at improvisation. A real Jack-of-Trades. But for at least this mission, I’m taking those boards back while he sits in the chair. And last on my list is Jump Engineer. I’m relieving him of that too. The 90D jumps have to be less frequent so we don’t give away our jump window capability to those watching us.” The Captain saw Lt. Anghal nod her approval and then shoot a fast and gentle glare at Dead-Hex. The new Pilot-Astrogator flattened his ears in quiet response.

“Lt. Anghal’s duties change the least,” reported Kakhskha. “Power Plant, Maneuver and HEPlaR Drives, Life Support and Gunner are your children, Lieutenant. I know that’s where you excel and I trust you’ll keep us flying.”

“Yes, ma’am,” acknowledged the chocolate-furred female.

“In addition to Medic, Counsellor and Security, Ardell,” offered Kakhkha, “you are assigned Marine duty with personal arms and armors. I want mission-status readiness on this boat until we are done with Zhiblchins. You’re now Chief Gunner of the barbettes. I need those weapons tested and rated when we have a chance during in-system commuting. Got me?”

“I get you, ma’am,” snapped Ardell with a firm affirmation. “Boo-rah.”

“Don’t take it hard, Zannun,” consoled Kakhskha. “Remember the guitar night? You said your treat was good. Well, my cooking is even better than Ardell’s.”

“Hey!” exclaimed Ardell in protest.

“Though it is a cut in pay and a cut in responsibilities, Professor,” Kakhskha noted to Zannun, “I really need you to put both eyes on your Collector Drive, the Canopy and assist Anghal with choosing the right energy source for each jump. You, Dead-Hex and I will plan out the rest of our route, its jumps and the type of jump fuel we utilize, be it L-Hyd or a Collector charge.”

“Yes, Captain,” answered the Seruean.

“Thank you, all for the donation to the mission,” Kakhskha said with genuine gratitude. “I’m throwing in my credits too. This is indeed dangerous and bigger than us, bigger than any world, bigger than subsectors. This concerns the whole of Knoellighz Sector. War may mean business, but peace means that trade, the lifeblood of our empires and world-states flows. War is quick and dirty money. Peace is stability and far safer. Now let’s get to work. Now you are dismissed.”

 

[The Pakkrat]

Down A Peg pt. 30

187-1105 Souo (Knoellighz 1020) A6B1423-C Fl He Ni Cp C:1119 NaVa
http://wiki.travellerrpg.com/Souo_(world)

“How do you do it, Anghal?” asked Kakhskha who was bewildered at the Passenger rates the ex-Navy Leaguer was garnering at the domed Downport. She had to speak up, much louder than her normal voice. Above all, corrosive rain drummed on the environment dome which created a din of white noise that made hearing a challenge. The beige Merchant leaned over to the slightly shorter, chocolate-furred Engineer, both to better hear her and to look at the Passenger fares Anghal had won.

“Engineering talk, ma’am,” answered Lt. Anghal. “You see, not everyone can afford High Passage. Not everyone wants the services of High Passage and so they are willing to downgrade from all the Steward coddling during the week in Jump Space. When I tell them that we have Luxury Staterooms normally reserved for High Passengers, but lacking the glitz and services of such, the Economy Passengers come quickly to sign up. Getting into a Luxury Stateroom and then relying on your own business or other diversions while in transit trumps the services and niceties of High Passage. You’re a good Steward, ma’am. However, we are taking on Zhodani passengers who are returning from Souo and behind the Crystal Wall. It may be that Zhodani may not like us Vargr and are willing to entertain themselves in their own way. Simple logic and Engineer haggling. How did you do, ma’am?”

Seeing that Lt. Anghal had earned a rate of 7000Cr per Economy Passenger to fill the last two Luxury Staterooms, Kakhskha could have turned from beige to green with envy. Anghal’s Admin training had made the two passengers worth more than two High Passengers at 6000Cr each. Despite her three years of Merchant experience at customer service, Anghal had landed better rates for Economy Travellers for the past three jumps.

And to hammer nails in the coffin, Dead-Hex’ bar hopping was landing better rates in the Low Berth passages. It was not anywhere competitive with the Luxury Staterooms, but the Astrogator was still keeping the desperate customers coming.

Kakhskha’s only ace in the hole was that she had found ten tons of Unusual Agriculture Imbalance that had failed to sell on Souo. With the system’s only domed city and a low-seasonal population of 30,000 Vargr and Zhodani visitors from outside the Crystal Wall of Knoellighz, she could still pull out of the deficit she had caused in losing 85,750Cr from spilling a drink on her Portable Controller. Never again! The Captain of the Gatherer could sell the ten tons of Obscure Ephemerals on Izsiqrl (Knoellighz 0921) and then sell the Imbalances on Apla (Knoellighz 0521). Each speculative cargo was leap-frogging the next destination world, keeping the credits coming. This was a good thing because soon there would be more Zhodani Passengers and less Vargr riding along inside the former Crystal Wall. The Surveyor ship would be behind the lines and at further risk of exposing their true mission. There would come a time when the ship could take on no Passengers so that the crew could make their escape from Zhiblchins without delay of searching for outbound Zhodani. If the Matron’s intelligence was accurate, there might not be Passengers bound for anywhere but inside the new borders of the Zhodani Consulate, a fact that the Humans were silent about.

The next day, the two females were welcoming the Zhodani Humans aboard the Gatherer. Women with long, straight and black hair half-smiled to learn their transport was captained by a female Vargr. The men strode up the steps with a regal satisfaction to be departing Souo, though they said nothing to the lupine crew. Kakhskha guessed it may have been that she had ordered the crew to wear their Psi-Shield shemagh loosely upon their heads, yet covered enough to properly guard their thoughts when activated. If it had any social distancing effect, the Captain-Steward and the Chief Engineer could only shrug and guess at.

 

[The Pakkrat]

Down A Peg pt. 30a

“Captain to Low Berthing. Captain to Low Berthing please,” came the overhead call. The voice was Marine Lt. Ardell’s. Kakshkha heard the call both on her personal comm device and from the integral speaker embedded in the Portable Controller she had tucked under one arm. The Captain had been welcoming the passengers alongside the Chief Engineer Anghal when the paging voice rang from her devices. The female from Roethoeegaeaegz bowed politely to her High Passengers as Anghal shooed the Captain out with a claw.

“Go on, Captain,” said Anghal. “I can continue with the ship briefing.”

“You sure?” asked Kakhskha who was already reaching for her handheld comm.

“Yes, ma’am.” The ex-Navy female came to attention.

Nodding, Kakhskha turned and activated her comm and spoke, “Captain on the way.”

In the very center of the vessel but just aft of the Clinic was the Low Berths room. Inside the room were ten inclined cryo-sleep chambers against the walls. The large capsules filled their allotted space as each was meant to be capable of housing any size sophont put to hibernation within. Entering, Kakhskha saw that Lt. Ardell, the ship’s Medic was trying to console a Zhodani female man-cub, likely in the early years of adolescence. The girl’s eyes were red with tears and she was inconsolable.

“It’s okay, hun,” Ardell tried to reassure the girl. “They’re just sleeping. They’ll wake up just like you, fresh and ready at the new world.”

“I want my father!” cried the Zhodani girl.

“What can I do?” asked Kakhskha between Ardell and the young Zhodani’s outburst.

“Get her father please,” suggested the Medic and Counsellor. “She knows.”

It was never a good idea to put younglings in Low Berths and this girl was the fifth and last to be put to rest in hibernation. Yet, Kakhskha had trouble putting such warnings to the Zhodani as she did not speak Zdetl. She nodded to the Medic and turned to find the girl’s father.

Kakhskha noted aloud in her personal voice notebook application on her comm. The voice recorder took her dictation of, “Note to self: purchase a Zdetl language Wafer on Izsiqril, if they have any left on a TL-11 world. Hopefully they’ve imported some from Spinward to such a border world on the Wall.”

The Captain reached the Commons Area and matched the name to the roster of High Passengers to procure the child’s father and make their way aft to the Low Berthing room. The very tall male with a black goatee and a mid-size turban strode behind her with a purpose. An intent stare was in his swarthy expression. Kakhskha wondered at what the parent sire would say to the man-cub. She opened the door to Low Berthing to the sound of more crying from the girl.

The man went immediately to his daughter. The two female Vargr from the Ascendancy Pact watched with interest as the elder hugged his progeny tightly. It quieted the fearful girl.

“Zenia’, you know that I love you, yes?” asked the tall Zhodani man who squatted so he was eye-to-eye with the fearful female. He wiped the tears from her cheeks.

“Yes, vafa,” answered the early adolescent. Both were speaking in Gvegh, the Vargr language of those present, except the last word which was obviously a familiar term in Zdetl.

The father looked quickly to both the female Vargr in askance of patience. Then he whispered to the girl, “Then trust me. These Vargr ladies will not harm you.” At that, the Zhodani man stared intently and deeply into the eyes of the young female.

Though still involuntarily sobbing and yet calming slowly, the girl drew content and neutral at her father’s gaze. There was care in the man’s eyes, but an unfathomable and direct communication that Kakhskha could not translate to a meaning. The girl was then gently turned by her father to the awaiting cryo-sleep chamber. With his help, Ardell was able to lift the child into the capsule while the father tucked her in.

“When you wake up, I will be here for you,” assured the Zhodani father. “It shall be like I never left your side. There is your doll. Sleep and dream, Zenia’.”

The incident was over and the girl was asleep in seconds. The Zhodani man looked to both of the female Vargr in the Low Berthing chamber. “My apologies, ladies. She will give you no more trouble. Thank you for coming to let me see her to rest, Captain.”

“Yes, sir,” nodded Kakskha who was still mentally reeling from what she had just witnessed. Soon the man was walking back to the Commons Area and had left the Captain and the Medic behind.

“Th-that was….disturbing to watch,” mumbled the valkyrie.

“No kidding,” answered Kakhkha. Neither of them had ever encountered what had just transpired. But neither would ever forget it.

 

[The Pakkrat]

Down A Peg pt. 31

195-1105 Izsiqrl (Knoellighz 0921) B1505A8-B De Ni Po ZhSh/ZhCs
http://wiki.travellerrpg.com/Izsiqrl_(world)

“Supernova!” exclaimed Kakhskha after she saw the final sale price of each ton of the Obscure Ephemerals that she had purchased back on Serue. She was supremely happy to have made back all the money she had foolishly swiped away on her Portable Controller. Now, in Izsiqrl system and inbound to the mainworld, Kakhskha had spent an hour on the Bridge. Toggling between the Gatherer’s Sensors and having Professor Zannun on Comms translate Gvegh into Zdetl for her, Kakhskha had managed to secure a buyer. And the wait paid off as the ship neared the only Gas Giant available for fuel skimming.

“Wow, Captain,” perked Dead-Hex who sat at the helm Kakhskha had relinquished. He was preparing an approach vector for a high altitude skimming run. “You pass up an entire graveyard of starships, that you found on the Visor, only to sell Desert perfumes from Serue to the Desert Startownsfolk of Izsiqrl?”

“That graveyard, Astrogator,” piped up Prof. Zannun, “was likely already marked with Zhodani beacons as claimed. Besides, Dead-Hex, even if we filled what little room we had in the cargo hold with pilfered scrap metal from the derelict hulls, it would have stood in the shadow of the numbers I see on the Comms. The Captain was wise to pass up the wrecks. They aren’t ours. It was probably some battle between Knoellighz Vargr trying to test the defenses of the Zhodani Crystal Wall. I for one am glad we did not stop to salvage while transporting Zhodani Passengers. This is a Surveyor ship not a scavenger, Third Officer.”

“Kakhskha?” asked Dead-Hex, his expression seeking a more Charismatic answer.

“What he said, Dead-Hex,” affirmed Kakhskha smiling at the confirmed numbers. On the Comms, she had made back, with interest, the money she had lost and in the tiniest fraction of time. “With one call to the mainworld’s network, small as it is, I landed a buyer for the Ephemerals. We need only sell the Agricultural Imbalances we found on Souo to another Fluid Oceans world along the route.”

“Apla, Captain,” nodded the mottled gray and black male. “But did I not hear at the planning session you, Zannun and I had that we were not stopping at Apla?”

“We need a closer look at that world, Dead-Hex and that’s why when we touch down at-" Kakskha re-read the translated name Zannun had written for her. "Izsiqrl Sands Downport. I’m going to need you to acquire charts and profiles for the worlds beyond the Wall, especially Apla and Zhiblchins. Got me?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She had done it. Kakhskha had earned back her self-esteem and integrity in making good with the Obscure Ephemerals. Though born of a shame, she felt elated and rode the high for the rest of the in-system flight, skimming and final approach to Izsiqrl, the first world on the edge of the former Zhodani Consulate.

 

[The Pakkrat]

Down A Peg pt. 31a

Kakhskha looked up to the marquee sign of the local Wafer shop on the Desert world of Izsiqrl. She was dressed in her desert robes and wore her Psi-Shield shemagh. For all intents and purposes, the Captain looked like a Traveller from Serue, which was not uncommon given this mainworld’s proximity to both subsector Capitals, Serue and midpoint Souo. At this time of year, many innovations, schematics, designs, finished prototypes, beta-tested programs and much more issued forth from Serue (Knoellighz 1221) after last year’s Technology Summit held every four years there. After the grand event, marketers, sales Vargr and Merchants were peddling what they could afford to the nearby, non-aligned worlds, the Zhodani Consulate, (still assumed to be bordered at Izsiqrl), the distant Democracy of Greats and of course the Ascendancy Pact.

“Thank the Ancients, they have the name in Gvegh too,” Kakhskha said aloud to herself. Now she could enter and speak her racial tongue and soon would own a Wafer she could slot to her Wafer Jack and then understand Zdetl.

Embarrassed as she was, Kakhskha had manipulated Dead-Hex to shopping for Universal World Profile charts for Yeplzhaf subsector, a task that would take most of the day. Kakhskha could not abide that the Infinity League male could speak Zdetl and that she could not. The Zhodani language was difficult to pronounce and even more difficult to understand. The Captain of the Gatherer had learned too that both Lt. Anghal, another Leaguer and Professor Zannun were fluent in the Human tongue. Though Kakhskha, Dead-Hex and Anghal could sign the Merchant S-lang or slang, it was a limited language that also required one have a tail and use Vargr paralanguage. Lastly, Kakhskha and her friend from Nouon spoke only Gvegh. It irritated her that though the Ascendancy Pact shunned the Zhodani psionicists, they refused to learn more about the Major Race. To not know one’s enemy was a flaw in keeping the Pact safe from Humaniti mental taint. Human psionics was something purposefully kept separate from Vargr psions' mental powers.

The beige female Vargr thus stepped through the archway entry of the Wafer shop. Immediately, she saw that there was not much choice and all the brands she saw were imports from Spinward. Izsiqrl was somewhat below TL-13 whereas other worlds could produce the cybernetic Wafers she needed. The Captain stepped to the languages section and saw that Zdetl, Anglic (Humaniti to distant Rimward), Gvegh of course and even Logaksu were represented.

Because of her digitigrade lope, her tail poking from behind her desert robes, lupine eyes and her general robed shape, the tech merchant welcomed her in Gvegh. “Welcome, wealthy Vargr. How can Ibr Ajklia Driachobl cybertechnology division help you?”

“I need to be able to speak, read and write Zdetl,” admitted Kakhskha. “Can you help me?”

“Of course,” answered the Zhodani, a tall and tanned man. His bushy black head mane was exposed and he wore Human trousers, a loose shirt and a pin on his shirt collar with the triple-rings symbol of the Zhodani Consulate. “We have a wide selection. Ma’am.” He had chosen her gender based on her lighter voice. “Each of our Modified LinguaSoft Wafers is imported from Zhiblchins, the Capital of Yeplzhaf. Please. Try any color or shape that appeals to you, ma’am. I will be happy to demonstrate by speaking in Zdetl so you can affirm your understanding back to me likewise.” The tanned face smiled and his gleaming white and flat teeth beamed.

“How much?” asked Kakhskha.

“Oh, a Merchant – er, I assume - ma’am. These models offer a Single Skill Wafer TL-13 and provide you with the equivalent of ten years of fluency in our language. It will be a joy to hear a Vargr lady speak our melodious tongue.” At that, the male bowed as his hand offered a tray of the Wafers.

For a second, Kakhskha was unsure of her Psi-Shield shemagh protection, but then slowly reached out to choose a flat black Wafer. Inwardly she liked the other colors to go with one of her outfits, but chose black instead to match the Seruean ‘Agent’ suit she wore under the desert robes. Lifting the very light casing around a flat chip, she examined the connection, a high tesla magnet that was round and flat. The contact would fit her own Wafer Jack. This was the first time since she had gone into freelance, post-Career life to try on a Wafer. Before now, she had always written Wafers off as a Want and not a Need.

“Are you sure it’s okay for me to give it a try?” asked the female Vargr.

“Not to worry, ma’am. If you don’t like this model, we can try as many as you like until you find what you can enjoy using. Your happiness is our business ethic.” The male bowed again, deeper this time.

Reaching up under her head-scarf wrapping, Kakhskha used both claws to lift the tiny cover protecting her Wafer Jack. With her free claw, she fitted the Wafer’s bare contact to her Jack. Then she looked into the mirror behind the Zhod-

 

[The Pakkrat]

Down A Peg pt. 32

I am drawn from the pandemonium inside my Wafer to a double vision of what I remember from my last host and what I see now. I blink my host’s eyes to try and dispel one of the conflicting visions. This happens when my host receives me without their eyes closed first. He might be new to Wafer use. If so, all the better.

I am a Modified Hijacker. In my life I was a Vargr Corsair named Arrtha and specializing in starship theft through deception, trickery, hacking and very rarely by violence. Why prey on spacelanes when one can acquire a ship directly from a Starport? I never liked killing. But it is an option. I was also careless that last time when my Psi-Shield Helmet ran out of battery juice in the middle of a theft. The Tavrchedl’ clocked me out and I came to cognizance as this recorded personality. It’s too long a story, so I keep to the present. Let us hope my keepers have things in order so I can do my job without blood.

It’s time to go to work. As of my last update, I’m supposed to ask in Zdetl for the date. I do so. The Zhodani Prole across the desk says it hushed in Human Imperial calendar, which is also part of the code. I ask the name of the ship, without any connotation.

“The ship you are to command is the Gatherer. It is berthed on Pad 11, here on Izsiqrl Sands Downport. We need your help, Arrtha. We have run out of money and can get no further Rimward without you.”

“Then be silent while I-“ Across the display case is my reflection in a mirror. I can tell from my claw movements. I’m dressed in some fashion of desert garb with a head-scarf wrapped around my head and face. This is like unwrapping some surprise present, perhaps for my birthday – one that I will never have again.

I reach up with beige claws, my host’s claws. I slowly unwrap the head-scarf to reveal that I am jacked into a Vargr which is a requirement, but looking at the eyes in the mirror behind my contact.

Oh no. Ancients, they’ve jacked me into a female host. I’ve told the Zhodani Proles before that I am not optimal performance when inserted into a female Vargr. This just made my next six sleeps harder. She is pretty though. Forty-something. A golden beige coloration with deep brown eyes and a lighter beige ventral fur. Not uncommon, but I’ll take it. If I have to be female this time around, at least I’m good looking.

She, whoever she is, is wearing a very tight bodysuit under this robe. I can feel it hugging me in all the curves and…..well she is female. This will take some getting used to on the first day. It is some sort of suit. I can feel armor plates as I pat myself down. A handgun of some type is on my right thigh in a holster. She’s armed and has concealed it under her robe. Tsk tsk. Ah! A hand comm unit. Good. Maybe she has notes or a user profile I can access for a name. It helps me to know as much as I can about my host. She hasn’t eaten. I’m hungry now too because of it. Is she watching her weight or something? A good frame anyway, well-endowed and doesn’t seem to have any sensory handicaps. This will do despite her gender.

 

[The Pakkrat]

Down A Peg pt. 32a

Captain Kakhskha, a Merchant from the Ascendancy Pact. I’m not familiar with Roethoeegaeaegz, but her comm unit’s profile has given me much to work with. She is the commander of an independent Surveyor ship with Merchant capabilities. Good. I like stealing smaller ships. Smaller crews and often ruled by Charisma to which I no longer am chained. I do my job, update and return to my personal pandemonium with another notch under my belt. It’s a ‘living’ after my death I suppose. As long as my Wafer survives, I’m technically immortal.

I am making my way to Pad 11 by consulting a Downport directory map. Outside, in the desert heat, is the ship I have to steal. I’ve never seen its configuration, so I don’t know the deckplan. I’ll have to be subtle and let the small crew take the lead until I can get the Proles aboard her.

My mission is to transport the Zhodani Proles, as many as a ship will safely hold, as far Rimward as I can. I don’t know why, but they are adamant about the galactic direction. I am to supplant whatever Passengers this ship has signed up and substitute my handlers.

A Vargr in a black robe and wearing a similar head-scarf is coming up to me.

“Hey, Kakhskha,” says the marbled gray and black male. He’s familiar, possibly a suitor or even a mate-husband? If so, I can use that. “I got the UWP for most of the worlds of Yeplzhaf subsector per your instructions.”

Good. “Nice work,” I say to him in her voice. I am getting used to her soprano-tenor. Used to power and authority, it’s not a light, bouncy voice. It compensates having to be female a little. I had consulted Kakhskha’s comm unit contact list and found names and images of the crew. This one, by his eyes is Dedhekhsgourz, but I don’t know his rank or position on the ship. By his familiarity, I must go with my perception that we are friends. “I have good news. We will be full of Passengers to our next destination. We can drop any that have signed up.”

“Uh. Okay, Kakhskha. I thought I was to land all the Low Berths contracts.” The male seems a little startled at my announcement, but he is acquiescing to my command. I am the Captain of this Gatherer after all.

Ancients. I forgot to close up this head-scarf. Now he’s spotted my Wafer poking out, black against her beige neck fur at the base of her skull. Dammit.

“Is that a language Wafer for Zdetl, Kakhskha?” Yes, he is familiar. Dropping my rank this often indicates such more often than not.

“Yes, I found the one I like,” I say in the Zhodani tongue.

“Excellent!” smiles Dedheksgourz before me, returning the same Zdetl to me. I don’t like him already. He speaks Zdetl. Please, Ancients, don’t let us share the same cabin. I don’t want to have to endure intimacy this time around. I keep my claws to myself as we move from the concourse to the gate leading outdoors to the Gatherer.

 

[The Pakkrat]

Down A Peg pt. 33

“Go ahead and get the Bridge prepped for departure,” I order to Dedhekhsgourz. “I have to use the fresher first. I’ll join you in a bit.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says. At last. Some professionalism aboard this ship. I use the moment alone to take off this robe, fold it and pull back the stifling head-scarf. Panting on the throne with this tight suit half-peeled off me, I commit to memory the deck I’ve seen so far.

Each of the Proles passed me the acknowledgement of “Thank you, Captain,” as they climbed aboard. Beside me had been the one the comm listed as Lt. Anghal, ex-Navy from the Infinity League a subsector to Rimward. The two of us had welcomed the Proles aboard and I stood quietly and behind the Chief Engineer as she welcomed the Passengers and briefed them on this SJL-3A32 Gatherer. Some of the Proles reluctantly acquiesced to Low Berth travel. I helped the ship's Medic, Lt. Ardell lay them down for the trip. They were desperate and out of money. That was when I saw that I was this ship’s Captain and the Purser. Even better. Now I wouldn’t have to hack the computer to change the deposits to the ship’s account. I could do it manually and with authority.

Now, in the fresher, I have a chance to talk to her, my host. There is a mirror above the fold-down sink. I gingerly do her body’s business and then stand up to zip the sealing bodysuit. Then, with the desert robe folded on closed throne, I wash my claws out of both courtesy for my host and of course hygiene. Though the conversation will be one-sided and I won’t know what she is thinking, but maybe I can clear my conscience, explain her situation and perhaps keep her from involuntarily evidencing to the others.

It is a flaw in the Wafer that while disguised as a Single Skill Wafer, it has in actuality an Emergency Personality, me, embedded in the chip. However, the Zhodani have made a design error. My host will remember everything, as if it were one of the Entertainment Wafer versions. Perhaps out of pity I should not have in this immortal state, I try to find some way to calm down my hosts so that they don’t start crying tears or getting the shakes, or some other involuntary reaction through their body.

I step to the mirror and look at the reflection. I have full control of the body for the next six sleeps, but gazing between her brown eyes and the black Wafer in the base of her skull, I speak, “Shhh. It’s okay. Don’t worry, Kakhskha. I am the Wafer you have jacked to your skull. My name is Arrtha. I’m a male, Vargr Hijacker personality. These Zhodani, these Proles are the lowest caste of their people. I don’t know how much you have learned of the Zhodani, but these Proles have their lives controlled for them. But something has motivated this small group of Passengers to tap me, through you, to transport them Rimward. As you heard, they are out of money and have defaulted to using the Wafer you slotted. Yes, I know. It's illegal and immoral to do this to you. So long as the Proles can travel Rimward, so long as your crew remains safely ignorant of you and I; I won’t have to use this.”

I draw her laz-pistol and hold it up to the reflection so she can see it. It’s a newer model with an Off switch, a safety and a fire mode setting. Nice and high-tech too. I wonder where it comes from as I replace the weapon back in its holster.

“Believe me, Kakhskha, that I have nothing against you or your crew. But these people need help and I am just the Hijacker to usurp your command and get them to the next world. Just sit back and enjoy the show for the next few days and you will get your body back, your crew safe and your ship. Hopefully, if these Proles who put me in you will keep you down long enough to retrieve me and be on their merry Rimward way. It will be a cut in revenue for your ship, but it’s for a good cause. I think. Just stay calm and we’ll do fine together.”

I step from the fresher and make my way forward. Carrying the folded desert robe, I pass the iris valve and have a look at the Bridge.

 

[The Pakkrat]

Down A Peg pt.33a

The Proles have picked an excellent ship. It has a two-jump capability, very rare for a ship this size. But it’s going the wrong direction, and I can’t change its Spinward tack without arousing suspicion of the crew. This Gatherer is on some sort of mission deeper into the Zhodani Consulate. Dedhekhsgourz is the Astrogator and Pilot I soon learned as I found him in the nicest Captain’s chair on the Bridge. What kind of Charisma did Kakhskha have to still be in command and let the mottled male to sit in her chair? In this light though, I am glad the Proles are going to fly just inside the Consulate border. Better the Zhodani than having to deal with the Vargr who are loose cannons in the equation. In my time and updates, I am moving further from what it means to be Vargr. Their chaotic behavior is something I took for natural and granted back when I still lived. I silently stand now behind Dedheksgourz with the Sensors boards to my left. Capt. Kakhskha has apparently assigned herself as the SensOp position.

“Comms, signal Tower our departure,” I order to the tall, black-furred one the crew calls Professor Zannun. What is a Scholar doing on the Bridge?

“Yes, ma’am.”

I’m still getting used to be called ma’am. With the ship now outbound from the mainworld, my stomach rumbles. When does this female eat? I’m starving!

“You all right, Catpain?” asks the gray and white female, the Medic named Lt. Ardell.

“During my shopping trip,” I guess and decide to lie anyway, “I forgot to eat. Now that we are under way, I think I should get a bite in the Galley. Dedhekhsgourz, you have the con.”

“Y-yes, ma’am.” The marbled male at the helm doesn't turn to look at me.

I am half-way down a small bowl of double-chocolate chunk, (synthesized of course for Vargr digestion), ice cream when the ship’s Medic enters the Commons. I sit in the seating area and go for another spork-full of the dessert. I haven’t an idea when I last ate a desert. So when I saw the treasure trove of flavors in the Galley freezer, I went with my craving for a triple scoop.

Lt. Ardell, a Marine I think by the way she is dressed, follows suit and serves herself a bowl of fruity strawberry icecream and joins me. Sitting down she tilts her head at me enjoying my selection. “Lady, you need to eat proper if you’re hungry. This stuff will put some kilos on ya. Minute on the lips, forever on the hips, right?”

I smile to act friendly now that I’m off the Bridge. The Commons Area on a ship is a place of informality while a Vargr gets a meal down. So, I am going to let Ardell’s intrusion slide. “Just a moment of weakness, is all,” I say.

The Medic giggles once before spooning her ice cream riddled with chunks of strawberry. We have a ‘females’ moment to enjoy the treat, I guess.

 

[The Pakkrat]

Down A Peg pt. 34

It’s almost Day 7 now and the ship has been in Jump Space for five of those days. The Proles are happier. I’ve spoken repeatedly in private with them. I will bring them my Wafer immediately after I’ve taken a heavy sedative for my host to sleep off the next 48 hours in her cabin. By then, the Proles can either lay low or they can stage a takeover. It would be nine against four.

In the shower now, I recall the last few days. I’m weary of this go-round. My Wafer’s skills degrade each day and I get clumsy until I’ve rested in my pandemonium between uses. I’m about to update and put another tally mark on the walls of my memory. I’ve had to break up an argument between Marine Lt. Ardell and Third Officer Dedhekhsgourz. In a moment of female-ness, I almost let her whup his tail in the corridor in a fit of Infighting. I haven’t seen one of those in a long time too, though Chrarisma no longer has any draw for me. The male can play pretty good guitar though. Shame that the Proles had to pick this ship. These are good folk.

I’m stepping from the fresher in shower mode and there is Dedhekhsgourz in my cabin. I should have locked the door dammit. Ancients, I have only a towel between him and me! I cover myself fast in my modesty and pretense at being female. “Dedhekhsgourz! How dare you sneak in here like this.”

He has on his close-fitting body armor suit, the male version worn by him and Prof. Zannun. But his collar is zipped down and exposes his neck ruff and the silver ring with the purple gem – I forget the name – he is wearing.

“You been ignoring me, Kakhskha,” says the Pilot-Astrogator, his eyes full of desire for this body. “Most of this jump, you’ve been an excellent Steward with the Passengers. That LinguaSoft Wafer has done you some good.”

I look around for my clothes. The laz-pistol I had left in its holster. Where is it? I’m not yet fully updated. What are his intentions?

“I-I’ve been busy,” I try to delay him. I search my mind for the right lies but it’s hard on the back end of my seven days out of pandemonium.

He’s coming nearer, very close. I nearly flinch when he wraps his arms around me and I feel his claws through my midriff fur, pulling me against his armored form. He whispers, “What’s wrong? We’re married, remember? I heard you say it just before I fell out that day I overdosed on caffeine. You put this torc, your wedding torc, around my neck, Kakhskha. By your home culture, that means I’m your subservient mate-husband, right?”

“Dedhekhsgourz, let go. I am in no mood for this now.” He’s gonna get frisky with me. Ancients! Not this time. I have to think faster than him. I look around for the sedatives I meant to take. “I’m also fighting off a supreme migrane. Since you’re my ‘subservient’ mate-husband, let me alone.”

“Except, Kakhskha,” he growls low, “I’m not from Roethoeegaeaegz. I’m not so easily won like that.”

Without warning, Deadhekhsgourz is hip-throwing me onto the bunk bed. Oh no. Not this. No frisky-business. Crashing onto the cushion, I reach down the side of the bed where my bodysuit was discarded. He is staring down into my eyes. His gray eyes are hungry locked with mine and his smile is not something I, a male personality want to enjoy, endure or experience in any form or fashion. I begin whimpering and tearing up uncontrollably. What is this fear I am feeling? His arm pins me to the bed. My claw finds the holster for the laz-pistol. Just another centimeter and I’ll have the weapon.

My laz-pistol isn’t there. I know because it’s in his free claw when I simultaneously learn it isn’t in the holster. He’s pointing it at my right temple, I think. Both our hearts are thumping hard.

“Looking for this, demon?” he asks me, the real me.

 

[The Pakkrat]

“Go ahead and update, Wafer demon,” he says to me. It’s now clear to me that this is not frisky-business. The ruse is up and I can feel my mind slipping back into pandemonium. I’m going to remember this and what not to do next time I’m called. “Don’t move though. The gun is aimed not at her, but at your Wafer. One flinch and you won’t be going back into your lamp. Got me?”

“How-…how did you know?” I ask the male on top of me. Both of us are breathing hard from adrenaline rush.

“You left a long string of clues, demon. You got a name?”

“Arrtha,” I say then gulp tightly. The upgrade is completed and I’m about to check out in minutes. I hope the Proles bust in here soon or else he might melt my Wafer with that laz-pistol.

“Arrtha,” he says to me, “She calls me Dead-Hex because I’m a badass Astrogator. But don’t tell her I said so or else I’ll never hear the end of it. She eats Neapolitan ice cream religiously and will kill me if I take another spork of her batch in the Galley. We aren’t married though I fancy her deeply. You’ve threatened her life with your very insertion into her body via her Wafer Jack. You could have killed her at any point in these last days. And that’s not all. Get up!”

I rise as he allows me to sit on the bunk with her legs over the side. I thought he wasn’t going to get frisky but now he’s got a pair of wrist binders, claw-cuffs. “Don’t look at me that way, Arrtha-demon. They’re Ardell’s and she’s Security on this boat. She and the rest of the crew are already slick to your coup. You don’t sign in Merchant S-lang, demon. But I do. So does my friend Anghal. That’s how we’ve been passing messages back and forth to each other behind your back. Kakhskha signs it too, but you don’t. Put them on.”

“What are you going to do with my Wafer, Dead-Hex?” The bracelets click around my host’s wrists.

“Oh no. You called me Dedhekhsgourz. No trying familiarity with me now, Black Tech. You, demon - your fate is hers to decide. The Passengers were clocked out by tweaking the life support system and putting them into twilight consciousness as they slept in their cabins. They may wake up with a headache, but you have no backup Arrtha. You’re done.”

He continues to explain as I struggle to hold onto consciousness, “Your accomplices looked at our destination world maybe, but they didn’t know our route. The Gatherer is jumping into an empty parsec of space, a dead hex on the map. You didn’t look either I’ll wager as you knew when you learned I was the Astrogator that it would have tipped me off. Another mistake. You’re a bad, bad demon, Arrtha.”

Instead of the Proles, Lt. Ardell bursts in, sees me bound and with a laz-pistol aimed at me. She yells at him, “Is that her or it?”

“Still an it. Take it off her. The thing inside her will remember everything.”

The angry female Marine steps over to my host and I feel her reaching and yanking my-

 

[The Pakkrat]

Down A Peg pt. 35

“Get it outta me! Get it outta me!” screamed Kakhskha the moment the demonic Wafer left her Wafer Jack. She had blinked once and realized she now had full control of her body once more. Dead-Hex caught her spring upwards at him by dropping the laz-pistol and letting her catch her manacled claws over his head and neck. He held on tight as the female screamed, cried and sobbed. The Astrogator moved away from Lt. Ardell just as the Medic nodded and stepped away from the Captain, closer to the door.

“It’s okay, Kakhskha,” Dead-Hex tried to hush the hysterical female. “It’s gone. It can’t get you. The demon’s back in its prison. It’s Black Tech from the Darknets, totally illegal and every last one of these fake Wafers in disguise should be melted down to below molecular level. Shhhh. Don’t cry. Please don’t cry. Kakhskha, you’re making me cry.” It was true. He was never happier to have back the Vargr from Roethoeegaeaegz, the one who loaned him the silver torc with her permission.

Lt. Ardell, in her most professional Medical role, asked from across the Captain’s cabin, “Do you, uh remember anything, Kakhskha?” She held the Wafer in her fist and hid it behind her back so the beige female could not see it.

“Everything! I saw it all, heard it all!” Kakshkha sobbed and shuddered now that she was fully held in Dead-Hex’ arms and claws. “He threatened me in the mirror with my own laz-pistol, said that he could kill any of you with it.” She cried some more and threw her face into the Astrogator’s neck, next to her torc.

“That motherless bast-,” declared Ardell. She was about to turn and leave the cabin with the Wafer.

“Wait!” called Dead-Hex. “Only a Captain claims a life on this ship. Arrtha’s existence is up to Kakhskha. For now we take care of her. Got me?”

“I’m gonna check on the unconscious Passengers. You will stay with her, Dead-Hex, or I’ll strangle you with her torc, Got me?”

Nodding, Dead-Hex was left alone with Kakshkha. He sat down and rocked her in his arms as she cried out seven days’ worth of imprisonment, helpless in her own body in which she had no control. They stayed that way for a long time. Gone was his hungry face, his bared teeth. He could only cry along with her sobs and shudders. “I am so very sorry, Kakhskha. I should have been there, at your side when you tried on a real language Wafer, so this wouldn’t happen. There there.”

How did you know? The demon’s question rang in the back of his head. If Kakhskha was fully aware and trapped behind the demon, she would remember that Dead-Hex had not answered the question. He was likely in for an interesting interview session with the female in his arms.

 

[The Pakkrat]

Down a Peg pt 35a

“When us IT Techs use a helpful Emergency Personality Wafer, it’s called a daemon, named after old Terran programming lingo for simpler applications, widgets, programs or mere subroutines, on a computer, that aid a User. But when they are……like that….us techies call them demons.” Dead-Hex sat on the Medical Console as he was both being examined and interviewed by the valkyrie, Marine Lt. Ardell.

It was his saddest birthday ever. The annual physical was nothing compared to what Capt. Kakhskha had been through. Dead-Hex found himself pouring out to the Medic and Counsellor. She listened and took his vital signs and other measurements.

“Ancients, Lieutenant,” said the Astrogator, “if I had known, had been told that Kakhskha was going Wafer shopping on a strange, Zhodani world – psionics or not – I would have escorted her and could have kept her safe.”

For the rest of the hour as Dead-Hex rambled on in his self-loathing phase, Lt. Ardell recorded all the measurements. She listened to him, letting him speak his fill.

“We’re only Vargr, Dead-Hex,” Ardell said at last when he looked up to the younger female. “You are a great Astrogator and an ace Pilot. But you are Vargr. You aren’t perfect. The ladies from Roethoeegaeaegz aren’t perfect. Nobody’s perfect. But you did save her, Dead-Hex. While the rest of us made sure we weren’t blindsided by the Proles, you confronted her ‘demon’. I won’t call you a hero. But you are a friend. And mine.”

Out came Ardell’s claw. Dead-Hex saw it and clasped it up to his forearm. The two shook on it for the first time. “Thank you, Ardell.”

“Don’t think I’m gonna go soft on you, Third Officer,” sniffed the valkyrie socially backing off in her bravado. “And if she calls you mate-husband while off-duty, from now on I promise I’ll smile to hear it.”

The arm clasp melted into a mutual embrace.

 

[The Pakkrat]

Down A Peg pt. 36

204-1105 Knoellighz Empty Parsec 0721

Dead-Hex had to con the Bridge during Jump Space breakout into parsec 0721. Kakhskha had not come out of her cabin in two days. He had been forced to share cooking detail with Zannun for the crew and the Proles-now-prisoners. The Captain had taken meals only from Lt. Ardell at her door, snatched the Portable Controller from the Marine’s claws and threw tantrums of screaming, tossing her stateroom upside down and then crying herself to sleep.

Then came Kakhskha’s text command to All-stop, hold position. Now, six hours after precipitation, the Gatherer sat idle, the Jump Drive long cooled down and the crew distributing the meals that Dead-Hex had kept Prof. Zannun from burning. It was too much for the Astrogator to bear.

In his cabin, Dead-Hex rummaged around in his luggage never fully unpacked. He was never a neat-freak and his room was constantly under orders to be straightened before monthly inspection at the nearest A-rated Starport. He searched and dug into travel bags, boxes, EVA cases and it was not until he looked in his nearly-empty jewelry box that he found what he was looking for.

How did you know? He was sure he was being haunted by the unanswered question from the demon before Ardell yanked his Wafer from Kakhskha. The question kept returning to Dead-Hex. A part of him hoped that, even if the Captain had been conscious behind Arrtha but unable to act or communicate, she would never call Dead-Hex on the question, demanding an answer. But the weight of the silver torc and large amethyst reminded him that he needed to come clean about his foreknowledge of Black Tech, fake Wafers and the Darknets of solar system underworlds.

The Astrogator recalled Kakhskha’s words, we aren’t the angels of commerce everyone believes us to be. So true.

He found the black, neck lanyard to which as clipped a small black, velvet pouch. Slipping the lanyard over his head, Dead-Hex then tucked the lanyard under his suit’s collar and pushed the small pouch down his chest front to hang in the small of his upper abdomen. It was just small enough to fit and would not impede his breathing. It was also small enough to hold a Wafer. Zipping up his so-called uniform, the Astrogator then exiled himself to the cargo bay after pressurizing it with air. Using a flashlight, he beamed his way through the darkness to find a small clearing where cargo containers had not been laid down and strapped in place. When he was sure of secluded, secreted solitude, Dead-Hex produced the Wafer from the black pouch.

The Vargr from Duelunogorrzuez (Knoellighz 1138) had burned almost half his Career severance pay-off toward a ship of his own to get his claws on this piece of Black Tech. The swirled, metallic red color of the impact plastic of this Wafer glimmered in the light of his torch. Dead-Hex rolled the Wafer in his claws, turning it over and watching the magnet contact flash him in the eyes more than once. Now that the female he was falling for had been threatened, possessed and traumatized by a demonic piece of Wafer technology, it would soon come time that he would have to come clean about his own bottled demon.

This Wafer was why Dead-Hex had not invested his entire severance on buying into the Gatherer upon hire alongside Anghal’s single share contribution. Even then, the refit and lift of the Surveyor did not happen until Professor Zannun had hired the ship to test-run his new Collector Drive. This Wafer, Dead-Hex had found on the Darknet, online cyberspace inside the Infinity League in one of the most dangerous hacks he’d ever performed and since then had sworn off. But, after the fact, the metallic ruby Wafer had arrived at a dead-drop location on a marked spot of a marked planetoid of Duelunogorrzuez. Even then, the Astrogator had to dupe a few belter ships into investigating a third-party rumor of a potential radioactives find in that cluster of rocks. This was so he could rent an in-system shuttle out to the dropzone and pick up his secret purchase among the belters as a smoke screen of ships. But none of his efforts described what the Wafer was in his claw. Black yes, as a descriptor only scratched the surface.

Dead-Hex held in his open claw an illegal Rage Wafer. Imported from across the Vargr Extents, the Single Skill Wafer hid a secret Talent, one honed and exhibited by the barbaric, powerful Urzaeng Vargr sub-species. The Darknet had somehow, through its own back alleys of cyberspace, scanned a male Urzaeng Vargr of extreme Rage Talent. Dead-Hex had heard of the more public Ovaghoun Rage, but when the Darknet advertised for Urzaeng Rage, he started his hack through legal and illegal channels. The mining for one of these very few Rage Wafers took much of his final term as an employed Merchant. Now freelance, Dead-Hex was lighter in the pockets, but now held a powerful weapon in his claws.

Supposedly when slotted to any Vargr, male or female, the Rage Wafer conferred the Urzaeng Talent of Rage-5 and made its wearer into a nigh-berserk combat warrior. Dead-Hex had never had the nerve to experiment with the Wafer before. But things were changing. This mission was real. Dangers were mounting. The Astrogator wondered when the day would come that he would yank this device from his black pouch and slot it to lay waste to those who threatened him or the ones he loved.

 

[The Pakkrat]

Down A Peg pt. 36a

Her ship had now illegal immigrant Zhodani aboard. It had one hell of a piece of illegal technology. Dead-Hex had called it a demon and learned its name Arrtha. By her own, stupid claws Kakhskha had unwittingly opened the doorway to her violation. That is what it was, a violation. She felt used. The lack of control over her body was one thing. The female from Roethoeegaeaegz had accepted the Wafer Jack cybernetic implant as part of her severance package upon declaring her last quarter as an employed Merchant. With such an interface, she would have been able to access just about any recorded skill she found necessary in her freelance life. And now, on her first try, Wafer technology turned into a seven day nightmare.

Wafers were supposedly to give the user a skill and let that person keep control of their body and get an important task done. It was only the Emergency Personality Wafers that had ‘people’ inside them, for emergency use only. And now, that demon that had used her body, a male Vargr long-dead, Arrtha, was offlined in his Wafer again. Lastly, like the Entertainment Wafers and the Single Skill Wafers, she had been conscious and aware the entire time the demon had control of her. It made her sick to think of what he could have done to her, with her body and inflicted on her crew, her friends. And Kakhskha had been the one to let him in, naively opening the door. She was responsible. She was the Captain of the Gatherer.

Kakhskha had, with her claws, shredded her bed sheets and the blanket Arrtha had laid her body down to sleep. He woke up in her body. She had watched, like an invalid as he addressed her in the mirror, threatening her crew with her laz-pistol. He touched her body with her own claws. Showered her and groomed her like she was a child’s doll. In her frenzy of anger, the Merchant had thrown all he had touched or come into some contact with in the corner of the cabin, near the door.

She had screamed herself hoarse and found she could not speak above a rasping whisper. Kakhkha had this time cried an order of far more tears than her screw up with the Portable Controller. The beige female had shattered her mirror and cut her fisted claw and let it bleed until it darkened her right extremity with dried blood. Her room was a disaster area.

Ardell had brought her meals and her Portable Controller when she whispered her request for it. The past two days, she had issued quiet, text commands from inside her stateroom. The crew had come to her door and spoken comforting words and hoped aloud that Kakhskha would come out and assume command again. She felt dirty having been possessed by some technological personality of a Vargr Corsair and Hijacker from long ago. For seven days, she was an infiltrating pirate. On the holovids, it might make for an interesting production to watch. But from inside her hide, Kakhskha felt stained, filthy. She had felt herself reach down and draw her laz-pistol. She had ridden alongside Arrtha’s movements and was aware of the deadly weapon in her claw. Watching her face contort to his expressions and his chosen vocabulary made her rush to the fresher to regurgitate meals prepared by Dead-Hex and Zannun if she was any judge of their cooking.

Did she have any remaining self-worth left, any Charsima to put on her armored bodysuit once more and dare to step out her cabin door? Arrtha had stripped her of her dignity and self-esteem over the course of seven days. She had screamed and raved from inside the prison of her own furred hide.
Arrtha’s reassurances were polite, down to business and time-constrained. He was a polite demon with the undercurrent of potential, dastardly evil. It was his recorded personality nature. Whether or not, as he claimed, his mission for the good of the Proles now locked in their staterooms or still sleeping in the Low Berthing chamber; Arrtha had to pay somehow. Not some banishment back to the limbo of his Wafer downtime, this technology needed oblivion.

Once Kakhskha came to that conclusion, she cackled for an hour like a mad female Vargr and strained her voice even further. She would make him pay and show him how helplessness felt. As a piece of technology that fit in the palm of a claw, she would make him understand her pain. She felt justified in getting revenge.

 

[The Pakkrat]

Down A Peg pt. 37

Captain, I know this isn’t the best of times, but could you see your way to meet me in cargo? Please? The text message popped up on Kakhskha’s Portable Controller. It was from Dead-Hex.

At this hour? Kakhskha responded through the flat device as large as any personal laptop computer. She had left it on her bare bunk bed face up and thus spotted the pop-up.

This is important. I need to speak with you privately and the topic is out here in the bay. Please? The ‘privately’ caught her attention and changed her mind to deny the Astrogator. Then came the question to her mind of what was he doing in the cargo bay anyhow? She dug through her pile of discards in the corner of her cabin and began pulling on her Seruean, armored bodysuit at the same time she tapped virtual keystrokes to respond to Dead-Hex.

I’ll be there in a minute. I have to get dressed and cleaned up.

I’ll be here. – D.

On a final whim, Kakhskha brought her Portable Controller with her before stepping as quietly as she could from her cabin and into the corridor. The cargo bay was likely the most secure place on the Gatherer because of its added capability to transport interstellar Mail. She had picked up a shipment of such from Izsirql bound for Apla to the bewilderment of the Zhodani there. They had no clue how the ship could transport their data canisters, filled with vast amounts of data, to Apla without going around for what amounted to months of travel. But Kakhskha knew about the ship’s Collector Drive and signed on the dotted line. Access to the cargo bay was through Engineering on the deck below. To get to the secured cargo containers, one had to pass through the hatch to the Power Plant room and then take an iris valve forward and into the bay. The route she followed made the Captain ask herself again why Dead-Hex was down there. Before the bay’s iris valve, Kakhskha grabbed a torch, its twin already with Dead-Hex, and stepped through and into the darkened hold.

The Ascendancy Pact female swung her torch beam between secured cargo containers until she approached Dead-Hex who was illuminating himself with his light. She approached him carefully. This was the male who two days ago had pretended? to lust after her body as he maneuvered himself close enough to subdue Arrtha in control of her body. In the Astrogator’s free claw he held a wide label sticker from one of the containers nearby. Had he removed it?

“Hey, Kakhskha,” the Leaguer greeted her with a hushed voice.

“Hey, Dead-Hex,” Kakhskha said with but a raspy, hoarse whisper. “What is it?”

“This fell off that cargo container and revealed what was underneath,” Dead-Hex explained. “What does the cargo manifest say these are?”

“Agricultural Imbalance items,” recalled Kakhskha. “This is our speculative Cargo, Dead-Hex. It’s not part of the Freight. It belongs to us.”

“Then may I unseal this container and let us have a real look at what we are about to sell off? The sticker came off and it looks like the entire lot is some sort of Pharma. All ten tons of it.”

“Go ahead,” rasped Kakhskha. “I’ll cover you.” It felt cliché to say such, but she drew her laz-pistol. The weapon grip felt like it was hers once more and not the plaything of demons.

The container at Dead-Hex’ release of the catches opened to twin torch beams revealing transparent plastic bag after bag of tiny white tablet pills. “Pharma alright, Captain. This isn’t foodstuffs, fertilizer or dehydrates.”

Kakhskha grabbed up her personal comm, keyed it and spoke in a whisper as loud as she could, “Medic to Cargo Bay. Medic to Cargo Bay please.”