Page 41 of Her Alien Cyborgs
“We are not aircraft,” Fyr’enth sounded insulted.
“Doesn’t matter to them. They’ll find something with a nice juicy fine attached and try to make it stick. We’ll knowit’s bullshit, they’ll know it’s bullshit, but that won’t change anything.”
“We are now entering normal space,” the ship’s AI announced, ending conversation on the topic.
Stars filled their viewscreens. Some of them weren’t stars at all but planets too distant to appear as more than balls of light.
“Which one are we headed for?” Kalan asked. As usual, he was behind them in the gunner’s seat.
“We’re headed for a moon orbiting this planet.” Hezza pointed to the largest monitor and then tapped on the screen to zoom in until one planet filled most of the screen. It was a nondescript place, colored mostly gray and brown.
“That is Taza Four. It’s rich in ores and minerals but short of almost everything else. Minimal water, a slightly toxic atmosphere, and not a lot of anything other than rocks. The only populations are in the mining camps and processing stations.”
She tapped the screen again, and they got their first view of the moon that was their true destination. From this distance, it wasn’t much more than a green and blue sphere.
“There’s a colony on that moon. The original goal was to be able to grow enough food to support themselves and the miners on Taza Four. It’s gone so well that now they have a surplus to sell or trade with other colonies.”
“The corporation that owns this system is okay with them trading the goods away?” Fyr’enth asked.
“There’s no corporation out here. We’re in Pheran territory, and they’ve signed over the rights to the system to a cooperative. The corporations aren’t thrilled about it, but they can’t dictate to the Pheran government the same way they can with humans.”
“We’ve only ever met one Pheran. The one that gave us that data stick.” Fyr’enth scowled. “I worry about what happened to her.”
“So do I. I got the feeling she wasn’t a willing participant in the project,” Kalan said.
“Once we land, you’re going to see Pherans, humans, and even a few Torskis. Hell, the last time I was here, a handful of Jeskyrans were trying to set up shop. Flek was not happy about that. I imagine he’s run them off by now. But in case they’re still around.”
She turned to look at them both. “If you see orange and yellow beings with lots of thorny protrusions and wearing nothing but a loincloth? Do not make eye contact. If they try to sell you something, say no and walk away. If they try to give you anything? Do not take it.”
“Noted,” Fyr’enth said.
“Who is Flek?” Kalan asked.
“Flek is the exception to everything I just said. He’s a friend and the only decent member of his species I have ever met. He’s the contact I told you about.”
“Your contact is a member of one of the most untrustworthy species in the known galaxy?” Fyr’enth gave her a sidelong look that held more than a hint of confusion.
“He is. His day job is running a local pizza shop. But his real source of income comes from buying and selling information. If anyone can get the information on that data stick to the ones who need to see it, it’s Flek. Just don’t stare at him too much.”
“He’ll take offense?” Fyr’enth asked.
“Hell no. He won’t care, but Jeskyrans are not an attractive race by any measure. If you look too long, you might lose your appetite, and his pizza is delicious. Trust me, you don’t want to miss out because you didn’t listen to me.”
Several seconds passed in silence, and then Kalan grunted. “I would like to unsee that,” he muttered.
She cackled as she realized they must have checked their onboard databanks for information on the Jeskyrans. “I warned you!”
“You did,” Fyr’enth agreed. “But that was…”
“And most of them have personalities to match their appearance. Like I said, Flek is the exception to the rule.”
The conversation faded after that, which suited her fine. She was trying to calculate if they’d need to buy another fuel cell while they were here while sending messages to traffic control to let them know about their arrival.
They were less than an hour away when she received the message she’d been waiting for. Flek’s diner was still open for business, and he’d reserved a table for them at the requested time. He also confirmed that he still served his special dessert and was happy to make her a batch. That last bit had a double meaning. It told her Flek would take the job and move the information she had. It also meant that she’d be coming back to the ship with an order of freshly baked cinnamon and sugar dusted bits of leftover pizza dough.
It was good news all around, and she happily shared it with hermahoyen.
They were still peppering her with questions about the night’s meal when they finally entered the moon’s atmosphere.
