Galaxy's End: Book One LeRoy Clary (dark books to read TXT) 📖

It is often said, she’d heard from her father, that traders who do not keep their word find themselves turning to piracy because they cannot make a living as word of their actions spread to buyers and sellers. Thousands of trader-ships may sound like a lot in the thousands of worlds in near space. It’s not. Word of a rogue trader passes from one captain to ten others while loading and unloading cargo on a single planet. Those ten captains travel to other worlds and tell ten more. In the third telling, a thousand captains know who to avoid dealing with.

The example is something of an exaggeration because of overlapping tales to the same captains, but the point is sound. A thousand, or eight hundred, or three hundred makes a slight difference. The tales continue to spread, and the number of traders, buyers, and sellers expand exponentially until there are no worlds left for them to attempt a fair trade. After all, who does not like to spread sad tales of competitors to make themselves look better?

Her thinking went round and round in much the same fashion until she finally slept fitfully. She realized that not only her life was in the process of immediate change, but the lives of those of her crew, along with Kat, Bill, and Bert. There was a lot of change happening and she needed to consider it and guide them down the best possible path.

Not long after she went to sleep, the sounds of movement in the bunk above woke her. The digger creature shuffled, wiggled, and burrowed in the pile of clothing. She heard the tapping and clicking of claws on keyboards, the mumbling of verbal commands, and felt the slight shifts of hand motions controlling computers. It was unnerving. Who used keyboards, anyhow? She hadn’t seen one outside of a museum. And where had it gotten more computers?

She called softly, “Bert, what the hell are you doing?”

“Research.”

The answer was short, curt, and almost rude, although she suspected that was not intentional. “What could you be researching at this time of night?”

There was a pause, before Bert said softly, “It is morning on some planets, afternoon on others, and night on many. I’d think a captain of a starship would understand that. My framework of time may not be the same as yours, and I may be nocturnal.” A muffled laugh followed the words.

She said, “I’d think a rational being sharing a room with another would understand how to act when it is dark.”

“I am under layers and layers of clothing. I have no way of knowing if it is dark or light.”

Ignoring the facts that the time was probably displayed on his monitors, or that his sensitive ears heard those near him snoring as they slept, Captain Stone closed her eyes and attempted to return to sleep when they sprang open in sudden understanding. Bert had those ears! He heard her sleeping, as well as those in the next room. He was either teasing or testing her.

She whispered in the softest tones possible, “Stop screwing with me or I’ll climb up there and dig into the pile until I find you, and then I’ll reformat the memory of every computer you have, including the one embedded on your shoulder.”

A stuttering sound from under the covers may or may not have been laughter.

She continued in the whisper, “Why are you even using a keyboard?”

“It is one of my designs and works well with my manipulative digits.”

“Use a touchscreen or voice input.” Her irritation was growing.

“I do,” Bert said seriously. “I find several manners of user-to-machine interface satisfactory, however audio input only works well when using one machine, otherwise they become confused as to which one you are speaking to and carry out commands not intended for them.”

“You came aboard with nothing.”

“The crew of the ship has been most helpful. They donated a few of their personal computers in exchange for a minimum of credits exchanged between us.”

She sighed and added in a defeated tone, “I suppose my credit chip paid for all that helpfulness.”

“If I were doing my research for myself and my benefit, I should pay the costs. If I am going to work for you, as I hope to, the hardware should be at your expense.”

The tapping on the computer keys had ceased. Captain Stone relaxed but realized she wore a smile for the first time in what seemed a long time. Her thoughts shifted from Bert and Kat to Bill, the one Kat sometimes called Snotnose. She would have to ask about that name.

Bill remained an enigma. He had said little since the three of them escaped the Coliseum police and went off-planet. In contrast to the talkative Bert, he was a pleasant surprise of quiet confidence. She’d verified he had been with Kat for as long as she remembered. Again, unquestioned loyalty reciprocated.

Bill was smart in his way. He watched and learned. He would make a good crewman on any ship, perhaps a competent bridge officer one day.

If she could convince Kat to join her crew, she would not only gain an empath but the other two. Since the financial scare with the rotted fruit that had almost cost her the Guardia, hiring the right crew had been a major concern. Every person had to perform at least two essential functions, plus they needed to fit in with the rest of the crew. She had rejected numerous candidates over the years.

Traveling for months and years together in a confined space created friction among any crew. Since the incident with the fruit where many of the crewmen had departed, the remaining crew had worked well together, if short-handed. She had only brought on one new engineer and a small Triennium multi-sexed housekeeper in the time since. A ship as large as the Guardia needed