Chutes & Ladders (Prosperous Book 1) Read online

  The alarm and message turned off.

  “May I speak with you Captain Barnett?” someone said, and he looked up.

  A Quair approached, getting dark looks from the crewmen he passed. The crew watched the creature as if they thought he was ‘cutting in line,’ but Tru knew Quair were incapable of such rude behavior. It was more likely that he had an official matter that required immediate attention.

  Quair didn’t wear clothes like most species, not that they needed to. They looked like Formicidae and probably had been as tiny Formicidae millennia ago. Their bodies had three segments, each with an arm attached, and their exoskeleton was brown, black, or red. They had large, black bulbous eyes, and antennae that waved in different directions. Depending on their job, some wore sashes that rested on their shoulder and against the opposite side of the bottom segment or were wound around the top of their second segment. This one was carrying a small Merchant Raitor duffel bag and wore the shoulder sash of the Merchant Raitor Xeno-Liaison division, indicating he was one of their ambassadors, and his sole purpose was to know every custom and law of every known species.

  “Yes?” Tru asked the Quair.

  “I’m Second Ambassador Teb, your xeno-liaison and familiar. Captain, there is an issue with two bunk assignments, one for a Dasparah and the other for a Basparah.”

  Tru thought for a moment before asking the Quair, “The same nation, different species, right?”

  “Yes, and as I’m sure you are aware, it is against their faith for a married male to even eat in the same room as a married female.”

  “And they’re both married?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Which bunks?”

  “Deck 5, quarters 15, bunks C and D.

  Tru pulled up the crewmen’s information on his terminal.

  “How’d I miss that? All right, Teb. Tell one of them to come back for reassignment.”

  “Yes, sir.” Teb turned to leave.

  “Teb.”

  He turned back. “Sir?”

  “Your quarters are next to mine.” Tru picked up a holo-slip five inches long and two inches wide. He held it up to a data node at the edge of his desk. “Download Teb’s key passes for his quarter and office, Gracie.” The information appeared on the slip, and Tru handed it to Teb. “Teb, I need one of the guest quarters ready by eleven-hundred. A Righel Ambassador, Samuel Mullin, has booked passage to Righel Prime at the last minute. He will arrive at eleven hundred and thirty hours. Have him settled by the time we leave port?”

  “Of course, sir. I assume by the name he is human?”

  “Correct. No other arrangements will be needed for the Ambassador.”

  Teb smiled. “Yes, sir. I will see to his quarters, sir.”

  “Thanks. And I’ll have you for supper, if you’re not busy.” Tru looked back at his terminal screen. “Extend the invitation to Ambassador Mullin, as well.”

  Teb took a timid step toward the desk. “Have I offended you, Captain?”

  Tru looked up at him. “No. Why?”

  “Then why do you wish to eat me?” Teb asked.

  Tru smiled. “I meant I’d like you to dine with me in the captain’s mess. Didn’t you learn human slang in any of your courses?”

  “Yes, but of all the human captain’s I’ve served, you would be the first to invite me to dine with him or her.”

  “Good. I like being the first to do things.”

  Teb nodded. “Of course. I will be seeing you tonight, sir.”

  Tru watched him leave. He hoped Teb was a lot more intuitive than he’d just come across. He turned his attention to the next crewman. She was a Gaxea, a strange race that reminded him of when he and his siblings played ghosts with bed sheets. Their lavender colored skin clung to the bones like those sheets had. Her elongated head and six eyes gave her the appearance of a mangled corpse. He smiled, but she didn’t return it.

  Is this line ever going to end? Tru wondered with a sigh.

  The dozens of images Teb saw through his multi-faceted eyes processed so quickly in his brain that nothing escaped his attention. Other species thought Quair were simpletons, except for the only two which had ever been on the Quair home world: Avinions and humans. Quair were artistic, intelligent, slow to temper, but their past proved they were very keen and ruthless military strategists and fighters. Modern Quair focused on helping the Merchant Raitor Union grow and developing their trade within the union.

  Teb turned into a hall, seeing the Dasparah and Basparah he’d told Tru about. He walked up to them, offering a slight head nod. Dasparah and Basparah weren’t big on smiles, which was good in Teb’s opinion because he didn’t like to see their rows of teeth. It reminded him that there wasn’t much that they wouldn’t eat, including Quair if the occasion arose, which had several times throughout the violent history between the three species.

  “Captain Barnett asked one of you to relinquish your bunk and go back for reassignment. He left it up to the two of you to decide when that will be.”

  “We’re supposed to decide this?” the male Basparah snarled.

  “That is your captain’s wishes, yes.”

  The two looked at each other.

  “Perhaps the lady should be allowed to stay—” Teb started

  “I don’t need to be coddled by a male.” She tromped off.

  Teb turned to the Basparah. “Will there be anything else?”

  “No.” He went back into the quarters, striking up a conversation with another male Basparah.

  Teb looked at the doc-slip in his hand, identifying the route to his own quarters. It was up two decks and near the bow. At the door of his quarters, Teb held the doc-slip over the biometric pad, and the door disappeared.

  Teb stopped in the center of his quarters to look it over. The room felt enormous, but he guessed it was the layout of the room that made it feel that way. The bed was a double and was set off in an alcove. There was a desk with a workstation against the opposite wall. In a half enclosed area was a dining table with a large sequencer above it. In most Merchant Raitor ships, the quarters were painted gray and dismal. This room had been painted cream with maroon trim along the baseboard. Stenciled accents framed the artwork that hung on the walls. The Berber carpet was maroon with flecks of matching cream, and the comforter and pillow on the bed were patterned with shades of maroon and cream.

  Teb walked over to the bed and sat his bag on it, watching it sink slightly. He sat on the edge, pushing down on the mattress. It was a little softer than he liked.

  Teb went into the bathroom off the bedroom. The color scheme in here was the opposite of the quarters. The floor tiles were cream colored clay and hand painted with small, maroon flowers in the four corners and centers. The fixtures looked like they were ivory, but Teb was sure they weren’t real. He almost wished he used bathrooms.

  Teb went out to the terminal, laying his hand on the high-backed chair. It looked extremely comfortable, not like the cheap desk chairs on most ships. He sat down in it, and his twig-thin body was nearly lost in it.

  “Is the computer named Gracie?” Teb asked.

  That is my reference. How may I be of service? Gracie asked.

  Teb smiled as he leaned forward and looked up. That’s where he imagined all computers were speaking from, and it was polite to look at a speaker. For most species.

  “I was wondering how I would get a firmer mattress, Gracie.”

  I will have one replicated and delivered right away, Ambassador Teb.

  “Oh? You know who I am?”

  I know every crewman aboard me.

  “I see. I suppose that for a computer it isn’t difficult to remember all the names. I will have to ask for your assistance when I don’t recall a crewman’s name.”

  I will gladly assist.

  Teb smiled, looking at the terminal. He got up and collected several framed pictures of his swarm from his bag. He sat them up on his desk, smiling proudly at them. He held up one picture of nearly fifty Quair, smilin
g as he touched each tiny face on it. His finger paused on one.

  “I miss you,” Teb told the picture.

  Who do you miss, Ambassador Teb?

  He looked up. “I wasn’t aware you were listening.”

  I am always listening. It is my responsibility to be aware of what is happening aboard me.

  “Me?”

  Yes.

  “You mean aboard Prosperous?”

  Of course. Who do you miss, Ambassador Teb?

  He looked at the picture. “One of my wives died a year ago. One of the larvae she was carrying contracted a virus that killed her and the rest of the larvae in her. I still miss her.”

  I regret to hear that. Ken Cade and Melissa also are missed.

  “Who are they?”

  Tru’s parents.

  “Tru?”

  Captain Barnett.

  “I see. Are you saying that you, a computer, misses these humans?”

  Gracie didn’t respond. Teb smiled.

  “Your programmer was wise to program emotional responses into you. I’m sure it makes the occupants of Prosperous feel much more comfortable with you.”

  I’m sure that was the reason, the computer replied with a hint of sarcasm.

  But computers didn’t have emotions, and Teb assumed the tone was either a programmed response or his imagination. Still, he asked, “What does that mean?”

  Are there any further requests, Ambassador Teb?

  “Not at this time, Gracie.”

  Teb sat the photograph down and continued unpacking.

  Merchant Raitor Union Ambassador Preparatory,

  Volume 20, “Righellian Laws and Statutes” (p345)

  Statute 213, Section 23: A male has a right to protect his property, both material and marital, from theft.

  Subsection 4A: A male may kill another male who attempts to steal his wife or slaves as long as there is substantial proof that the theft has taken place. Failure to provide proof will result in the execution of the defending male and destruction of the wife or slaves in question to prevent further legal implications.

  Chapter 07

  TRU SMILED AT TWO CREWMEN AS HE WALKED PAST THEM. They glared back. None of the crew trusted him, but he’d had enough bad captains to understand why. He’d just hoped that the first day would have gotten better before it ended – it hadn’t.

  He entered the senior officer’s mess hall where a handful of senior officers ate in silence. Tru crossed the room to the captain’s mess and found Ambassadors Mullin and Teb waiting for him. They stood when he entered, Teb bowing slightly to Tru.

  “Good evening,” Tru greeted them, sitting at the head of the table.

  Ambassador Mullin sank into his chair, glaring at the table.

  “Good evening,” Mullin stiffly replied.

  “Good night, Captain,” Teb cheerily said. “Chef Kauffman is an excellent cook; I’ve served with her before. I took the liberty of ordering the roasted beef for you. Do you wish for something else, sir?”

  “That’s—”

  Mullin rudely interrupted, asking, “Is there an Ensign Tobin aboard?”

  Tru and Teb both looked at him. There was a dark emotion in the man’s eyes, which felt even more threatening when Tru noticed he clutched his knife and fork like weapons.

  Tru answered, “I’m not sure.”

  “I was told he would be working on Prosperous.”

  “I haven’t memorized all of the crew’s names yet, Ambassador.”

  “Let me know if you find out.”

  “Is he a friend of yours?”

  With a tight smile, Mullin answered, “Sure.”

  Tru’s empathic ability to sense lying flared with such intensity that he almost vomited. It took a severe lie to elicit that response from his empathic ability. Tru discreetly inhaled and exhaled several deep breaths, attempting to soothe the feeling.

  When it was back under control, he looked Mullin in the eye. There was no feeling in them, only intense burning anger.

  A petty officer walked in, bringing Mullin and Tru’s plate. He sat them down, left, and returned with a bowl of vegetables for Teb.

  “What work will you be doing on Righel Prime, Ambassador?” Tru asked Mullin.

  Mullin looked at his plate, not answering.

  “Ambassador?” Tru asked.

  “It’s confidential.”

  Tru swallowed hard when indigestion spiked again. At least this time it didn’t make him want to vomit, meaning Mullin wasn’t telling much of a lie.

  “It doesn’t have anything to do with the religious restrictions the government is trying to enforce, does it? That’s a touchy subject, I’ve heard.”

  “I said it’s confidential.”

  Tru sawed off a piece of his roast beef and chewed if before continuing, but he didn’t take his eyes off the Ambassador. These lies were starting to unnerve Truman, and he was beginning to wonder if he should order the Ambassador off his ship. It was within his right to refuse to take a passenger, but since he was an Ambassador to a race not known to be truthful anyway, maybe Tru was jumping to conclusions. Maybe Ambassador Mullin was on a trip for the Righellian’s, and he couldn’t talk about his trip.

  “Are you married?” Tru asked.

  Mullin dropped his silverware as he stood. “If you’ll excuse me, Captain, I have work to do. Good night.”

  He walked out of the room.

  “Perhaps he is tired,” Teb offered.

  Tru watched Mullin until he was out of sight. With Mullin and his lies removed from his presence, his indigestion and nausea subsided.

  “Perhaps.” Tru ate a bite of mashed potato, contemplating how concerned he should be about the conversation.

  The ship alarm suddenly went off, and the warning lights along the baseboard and ceiling throbbed red.

  A recorded voice warned, “Malfunction has been detected in aft cannons. System overload detected, and the temperature is rising to critical. Please evacuate to the nearest lifeboat.”

  “Gracie, reset it. Again.” Tru ordered.

  Yes, Captain.

  The alarm and message turned off.

  “Get me, Commander Ag.”

  There was a short pause.

  “Ag here.” The Commander sounded perturbed.

  “I have told you three times today to find the source of that warning, Ag. What’s taking so long?”

  “I have other work to do, sir. Fixing some damn alarm is not the most important item on my list.”

  “Ag, it’s going off every four hours. No one is going to get any sleep because of it.”

  “I’ll get to it as soon as I can, sir. Ag out!”

  Tru opened his mouth to argue but stopped when he noticed how silent the communication link had become. “Commander Ag?”

  There was no reply.

  “Gracie, is he still on the COM?”

  He has closed the communication link, Captain.

  Tru sighed, looking at his food. He remembered Teb was still in the room with him and turned his attention back to him. The Quair was busy eating his vegetables, politely avoiding staring at Tru.

  “Teb, are you married?”

  “Yes. I have eight wives, all lovely.” He smiled, as much as a Quair could. “And twenty-seven children, two with their own swarm.”

  Tru smiled, glad to see his xeno-liaison wasn’t short tempered or lying.

  “Tell me about them,” Tru urged.

  Chapter 08

  AMIDIEN WAS ALONE IN THE JOINT ROOM – THE MAIN MEETING ROOM OF HIS ship – staring numbly at the orders on the holo-pad he held. When he’d read them the first time, he thought that they weren’t real or they were meant to be humorous. He ordered his communications officer to decode them four times, ordered diagnostics ran on the communications array five times, and even request them to be present under the pretense what they’d received appeared corrupted and wouldn’t decode. None of these efforts resulted in a difference.

  The orders were real.

&n
bsp; Amidien tapped the communications pin on his shoulder. “Computer, join the meeting points on the nearby Fleet ships.”

  The computer beeped and responded, Meeting points have been linked, Captain.

  “Captains and commanding officers, report to the joint room immediately.”

  Amidien read the orders again, trying to wrap his mind around them. He didn’t notice that his seven commanding officers appeared as holographs around the meeting room table. Five, then ten, then fifteen minutes, passed.

  “Captain Amidien?” one finally said.

  Amidien looked at the speaker, Major Erchan. He was five years younger than Amidien, and he wasn’t the Fleet’s best engineer, but he’d been Amidien’s best friend since he’d joined the Battle Fleet. Amidien went out of his way to keep Erchan safe by requesting him as his chief engineer on every ship he captained.

  Amidien looked back at the holo-pad. “I have received our mission orders.” Amidien looked up, hiding how anxious he felt. “By order of Emperor Lixu…” Amidien hesitated. What if he never gave this order? What if he pretended it had never been received? He knew the answer to those questions. The logs would show it had been received and if Rouchel and his bairn hadn’t made it off Tetra yet, he’d put their lives in danger.

  “The following are our mission objectives and procedures. We are to anchor a short-range distress beacon between the second and third planet. When a Merchant Raitor vessel approaches to assist, I will order either the Halitar or Traus to attack. The attack is to last at least fifteen minutes so that the responding ship’s optic sensors can clearly make out the attacking ship. When fifteen minutes have expired, they are to be destroyed. Before the ship’s destruction, the ship’s Captain and First Executive Officer are to be transported onto the attacking ship. Terallians who have been have surgical holographic nodules inserted and will be told which species they are to use during their information acquisition. Following this meeting, you will receive a list of which officers are to undergo these procedures. Once the interrogators have obtained all the information they can about Merchant Raitor and Merchant Raitor Patrol. This is to be recorded. The Captain and First Executive Officer are not to be killed by torture, but near death is permitted. After two sun cycles, they will not be sedated and their dismemberment recorded. Recordings are to be held until the Alterdain Outpost has cycled back into a clear transmission sight.”