I’d spent enough time on unstabilized craft to understand what a rough landing was, but Musc had just brought us through something else. It was probably unfair to judge him for landing metal wheels on ice, but Victoria was going to do it anyway. I’d had to take a moment to remind her that, even though she couldn't understand us, we could hear her perfectly.
Over the course of the flight, night had given way to dusk as we traveled South heading toward the band of twilight that most of the Ottinio lived in. According to Musc we were only going to reach the edge of Twilight, meaning it was still colder than most of Mythellion III but our shields blocked most of the cold either way.
The base, if you could call it that, that Musc had brought us to was a motley assembly of disparate buildings that had been set up and dragged here over time, clearly assembled from spare parts. Decades of abandoned arctic research stations cobbled together into a miniature black market for the off-worlders to enjoy.
It was a scene you saw on every adopted planet, even Earth had engaged in the time-honored tradition of breaking integration policy during first contact.
Musc had gone ahead, leaving Victoria and I at his plane while he spoke to whomever ran this place. I’d assumed that it was the dealer that Dvall had pointed me toward, but I couldn’t be sure of that. In the month she’d been gone anything could have happened on Mythellion, it wasn’t like Black Markets were known for their stable leadership.
For my part, I’d spent the better part of the last ten minutes attempting to show Victoria some very basic English, combined with hand signals it was going okay, but it seemed to be testing her patience more than her language skills.
“Why?” she asked as I was in the middle of trying to explain ‘Go’, “I’m going to have my translator back in a few minutes. I don’t need to know this.”
I knew that anything I said would be lost in translation either way, so I shot a glare as opposed to a comeback.
“Hey you were talking to the Ottinio-”
“Musc,” I corrected.
“Musc, for the entire plane-ride over. You can’t be upset that I’m talking at you now.”
“Fine,” I hissed and made a show of turning my translator off.
“Ǧid olof,” she sighed to herself. Then after a moment. “Fuck you.”
“What?” I asked. She shook her head. I turned the translator back on. How had she-
“I picked that one up from you on the way over,” she explained once she knew that I could understand her again. “If it means what I think it means, you say it a lot.”
“And?”
“The other thing I said was ‘You’re crazy,” she said as she pulled the collar of her jacket close around her neck. Neither of us were dressed for the weather, and shields only did so much when it came to the mental part of keeping warm.
I clicked my tongue at the idea that she could tell me to fuck off in my own language now. Humans and Fotuans had similar vocal chords and it meant that technically we could learn each others’ core languages. If our governments weren’t at one another’s throats it might have been a common cultural exchange considering how few alien species had that privilege.
Then again, parrots could speak English so Victoria wasn’t that special. I was going to have to learn how to swear at her in Fotuan to keep things even.
Musc poked his head out of the small hovel they called a building and took a quick look around before clocking that Victoria and I hadn’t stepped away from the plane yet. He waved us over with his thick flippered hand. I went to nod to Victoria, but she was already pushing off the side of the plane.
“I’m taking my translator back,” she announced.
“Long as the gunrunner doesn’t need it,” I corrected.
“You know I can’t understand you but if you just said no I’m upset,” Victoria shot back. She was back to striding instead of walking around. For a brief moment getting shot at had humbled her but she’d reverted to needing to put on a show for a bunch of aliens who had no idea who she was.
Maybe I was going to have to shoot at her again.
“Thank you for waiting, Friend Kingston,” Musc said as we approached, “we had to preform-” the sentence finished with a series of clicks and a whistle from Musc.
“New Ottinio phrase found. Sending to database for Translation.” my PA piped up.
“Sorry,” I said, stopping in the doorway even as Musc was holding the old rusted thing open, “Didn’t catch the last part.”
“Uh,” Musc seemed confused, though I could only tell through their tone.
“Just explain it,” I asked.
“Ah! It’s an old ritual to wish someone a good flight. I find it Old Fashioned, but Yinde is a traditionalist like that.” Musc said as they held the door open for Victoria and myself. The ground made me feel remarkably short.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
“Any traditions I need to watch out for while I’m here?” I asked. Hadn’t exactly kept up on the cultural exchange notes.
“No, no Friend Kingston,” Musc refuted, “Yinde speaks money. Though perhaps you should not mention the tail.”
“Thanks for the heads up.”
Musc let the door close behind us and a single light in the middle of the room sputtered to life. There were ornate rugs set layer upon layer on the floor and walls, deep reds marked with a legacy of wet boots and snowy footprints.
“Yinde told me to bring you inside and then I should wait outside. He doesn’t like people having too many friends in the same room as him. You understand Friend Kingston.”
“I know the type,” I agreed with a nod. This seemed like a waiting room but there wasn’t anywhere to sit in it.
“Here you are Victoria,” Musc said, dipping his head and giving Victoria access to his neck to remove the small dime that was her PA. “It’s been lovely speaking to you, Friend Kingston,” he added.
“You can keep talking to me,” I pointed out, “I might just not say much back.”
Victoria snatched her PA back and placed it back on her neck. The solo light flickered, wind howled under the crack in the doorway.
Across the room from us a door flung open, with an Ottinio on the other side that had a massive bullet proof vest and an ancient looking gun at his side. If nothing else, it was clear that Yinde wasn’t sharing the merchandise.
“Would that even do anything?” Victoria asked, nodding toward his armor.
I shook my head. “They might have translators though.”
“This way,” the Ottinio commanded, stepping out of the doorframe and giving us room. The black hallway that had been behind him was actually a stairwell, dipping down below the ice, illuminated by antique incandescent lights every thirty or so feet. I couldn’t see the bottom, but I could see water dripping from the roof and wires.
If I dodged as many bullets as I had to die in a stairwell I would be pissed.
I followed orders, giving Victoria the okay to do the same. Once we were both in the Stairwell, the Ottinio that had grabbed us from the other room fell in behind, closing, then bolting the door. The clang of the lock echoed around the stairwell and I felt Victoria turn toward the now-shut exit.
“Prying eyes,” the Ottinio guard explained.
“Thanks for the explanation, but it makes you look like a scared little fish,” I answered.
“Kingston,” Victoria hissed.
“Just making sure he can’t hear us,” I pointed out. I turned to the Ottinio, “either that or you’re a very patient man.”
“Hey, I don’t have one of your fancy translators,” the Ottinio tapped the side of his head as he said it, “but I know you can hear me. Walk.”
“That’s good,” Victoria said as I started to take the first steps down the derelict stairway toward whatever was below the ice.
“Or bad,” I corrected, “means I can’t lay on the charm.”
“Do you consider yourself charming?”
“You haven’t seen me try to schmooze,” I pointed out.
“Did you have to get me as a cli-” Victoria stopped her line of questioning as we reached the first landing and continued straight. There was a locked door to our right. Great, we were going to in to tunnels. “Because I’m a Fotuan.”
“Got it in one,” I congratulated, “nicest one I’ve met for what it matters.”
“‘Am I the only one?”
“No, I’ve shot a few,” I pointed out, “and if getting off Mythellion goes poorly, I’ll have to shoot two more.”
Our footsteps and the dripping water were the only sounds for a moment. “You’re the worst human I’ve met.”
“Only human?” I suggested.
“That I’ve talked to.”
“Then I’m also the-”
“Turn right at this landing,” the Ottinio growled. As he did I felt my hand drifting toward my side but stopped it. I didn’t want to blow all of this by flashing my Hammerhead.
“This feel right to you?” Victoria asked, “it feels like a trap to me.”
I frowned, Victoria was a little bit right and a little bit green. Sure, this felt like a trap but every black-market buy felt like you were being shuttled into a room to get shot at. Most of the time you were just worth more alive as a buyer than dead.
We stopped on the landing and the Ottinio stepped out in front of Victoria and myself. Pounding on the door as he did. I took a deep breath. His gun was in reach. Not that I needed it.
Hinges squealed as the door opened for us and warm light poured onto the landing from the room beyond. For half a second I was blind, and then I could see that this room was similarly covered from floor to ceiling with ornate rugs, practically woven together.
I was going to have to ask Dvall if that was a cultural thing.
The Ottinio who’d opened the door was smaller, which meant that they were around my height. They leaned in to whisper something to our escort but my translator caught it anyway. “Are they the ones that Musc brought?”
“Yeah,” our escort confirmed, “saw him with them.”
“Bring them in,” the Ottinio pulled away from the other’s ear and turned his gaze to us, keeping the pair of black eyes locked on mine. I offered a small nod, he didn’t match it. “‘Come in,” he commanded.
“Is that a good feeling?” Victoria asked.
“It’s a feeling,” I pointed out. I'd let her know if my gut turned about any of this but, up until this point it would have barely mattered anyway. They hadn’t shown me firepower that could get through a personal shield or any wall that would stop me from shooting my way out with the Hammerhead.
Of course, all the Ottinio were almost twice my size, but you got used to being on the smaller side of the Galaxy as a human.
We got into the room and I turned to look at the direction the short Ottinio had left toward and there it was. Rather than carpet the entire far side of the room was packed with industrial boxes, the kind used to ship weaponry, though the foam used to hold it in place during shipping was clearly ripped out.
In front of the boxes was a desk that had obviously been co opted from a modern ship considering it was the only sleek holotech design in the space. Across it from us was an Ottinio draped in smooth unwrinkled leathers, a toothy smile and smoke grey skin compared to the black of those around him.
“Yinde?” I asked. The desk was preventing me from seeing the only defining feature I knew about him.
“The one and only, you must be Friend Kingston,” Indeed answered, his smile peeled somehow wider. He took a moment to look from Victoria to me, and then back to Victoria, “A human and a Fotuan. I thought Musc was just incorrect. An uncommon pairing,” he mused.
“Not as uncommon as you might think,” I lied.
“Ah,” Yinde nodded and I wasn’t sure if it was an Ottinio piece of body language or he’d done his research, “well, we only know what we read for now, but soon there will be Ottinio with you among the stars.”
“Looking forward to it.”
There was a door behind us how we were standing and I heard the hinges groan. I turned my head slightly to check and saw three more armed Ottinio come into the room. Victoria wasn’t as subtle about her glance.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Friends Kingston and Victoria,” Yinde cut in, “you must understand. We don’t know how to use all of your alien weapons, but we have seen what they can do,” he waved a flipper back toward the group that had just walked in. “They are a precaution to keep you from just walking away with my wares.”
“Understandable,” I answered, but I stopped using both hands to talk and kept my right beside the hammerhead on my hip.
“Now then, to business. What do I need to find for you travelers?”