Qimmiq Port

Krandermore, Survivor’s Refuge

4453.2.29 Interstellar

The team arrived at the frontier town of Qimmiq Port a day later. It was easy to spot on the flat, open tundra. The settlement was split between cargo yards and small clusters of air-tight yurts. Janus headed for the largest group of habitations.

Qimmiq Port wasn’t a port in the traditional sense, but rather the point of departure, where natural human habitation ended and true coldside began. Sun-side traders brought their shipments here to be loaded onto the great coldside caravans that would pass through each of the major coldside settlements. Some of them were cargo only, with the karakhan acting as a broker on behalf of the sun-side traders, while others also or exclusively carried passengers.

Janus parked his buggy in the designated area and checked his hazard indicators, now fed to him by the aspirant suit instead of his jury-rigged system, and found that the temperature was close to zero degrees C, which actually helped a little by bringing the air pressure up fractionally to 60 percent of a Standard atmosphere.

“Can you believe the locals can actually live in this?” Mick asked.

“Not indefinitely,” Janus said. “There’s some micro-adaptation from an early age—higher red cell counts, larger lung capacity, and slower respiration—but even the locals can get sick from it. That’s why the tents are designed the way they are.”

“They have airlocks?” Mick asked.

“No,” Janus said. “They use layers of smart fabrics that allow oxygen to pass through one way but not the other. Minimal wastage, at least by their standards.”

“I look forward to checking that out,” Mick said.

The Hunter had started to return to his usual self as they journeyed across the tundra. Janus wasn’t sure if it was the talk they’d had; sharing his burdens might have had an impact. But he thought it more likely that Mick was cheered because the last of the atmospheric glow was gone, allowing them to finally see the stars in the crispness of the thin, frozen air.

“Let’s not spend too long here,” Janus said. “Lira, I know you’re going to want to trade for provisions, and I think we’d all appreciate it. Ryler and I can update the data cube and take a look at the local vehicle yards—maybe we’ll learn something about how the locals deal with the ground ahead. Remember, this is not Irkalla. The ground here hasn’t seen sunlight for hundreds of thousands of years. It’s going to be more rocks than dust.”

“Got it, boss,” Mick said.

“One small complication,” Koni said, pointing.

There was a large, central yurt with several entrances at the center of the settlement, and they appeared to be flying some sort of underlit banner that featured the Verazlan colors. “What does that mean?” Janus asked.

Lira answered before Koni did. “It’s a notice for all Verazlan visitors to the Port. They’re calling for the Justice of Veraz.”

Janus stared at the banner and frowned. “It’s never easy, is it? Okay, new plan: Mick, you’re on route scouting. Take Fury with you; she should be okay for thirty to sixty minutes, but not longer. Ryler, you take care of the data cube. If there are any local wayfinders, see what you can get from them about the compartmentalists and the state of the Consensus. Koni, Lira, and I are going to find out what’s going on with this banner.”

***

Janus pushed through one thick set of hanging animal hides and then another. Once he was in the tent’s exterior, the pressure and oxygen content rose rapidly, and he was able to take off his helmet.

The yurt was a large structure for all its primitive appearance. It was broken up into several dining areas and meeting tables, as well as a central open kitchen that appeared to be serving the various parties meeting there.

Ornate iron and ceramic braziers crackled and popped, but there was no flame or coals in them. Janus assumed these were the source of the extra oxygen and heat, but what were they burning, sodium chlorate?”

A local official hurried over, looking at their aspirant suits with open curiosity. “How may we help you, travelers?”

Koni took the lead. “I saw the banner. You have need of a judge?”

The official clasped his hands and bowed his head. “The banner is customary, Honored Verazlan, but we have a local judge from your clan who handles such matters. Disputes happen frequently here, as you can imagine.”

“I’d like to review the case,” Koni said, tucking her helmet under her arm.

The official licked his lips. “No offense, Honored Verazlan, but this particular case has already been adjudicated. As you know, it can now only be altered by a higher authority.”

“There is no higher authority outside of Veraz than me,” Koni said firmly, and the official all but cowered. “You will take me to these proceedings now.”

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

“Of course,” the official said, waving them toward a large group at a long table on the far end of the yurt.

Koni started to move in that direction, but Janus touched her upper arm. “Do we need to get involved here?”

Koni gave him a sad smile. “I don’t know. This may not be worth our time, in which case we will depart, but I believe it’s something I should do.”

“Okay,” Janus said, letting her go.

Koni smiled again and followed the official.

Janus and Lira fell in behind her. “Anything I should know?” he asked Lira.

“What the official said about having a local judge? They’re usually corrupt.”

Janus frowned. “If they’re corrupt, and everyone knows they’re corrupt, why doesn’t someone do something about it?”

“Because they’ve usually been at it for a while, and they don’t let anyone else crap where they eat,” Lira said. “People accept a little corruption from Veraz to avoid being robbed blind by the clanless locals.”

“It reinforces Veraz’s image of strength, Janus,” Koni added. “We take, and no one stops us.”

Janus bristled at the comment and was about to say something heated, but Lira punched him lightly on the shoulder and mouthed, Wait.

Janus frowned, but Lira seemed certain. He scowled and looked back at Koni.

She walked as she always had, shoulders back and head straight, like there were no obstacles to her progress or, perhaps, as if the world should move out of her way.

The official led them past the cooking station and several small groups having quiet meals to what looked like an open board room with a long table piled with papers and empty glasses. A young woman in local garb was leaning on the table and pointing angrily at an older woman in a similar dress—comfortable soft robes decorated with embroidery and held closed by a wide sash at the waist—but Janus couldn’t hear her yelling. It was only when they stepped within two meters of the table that the voices finally carried through.

“—too far! I’m not going to abide by that steppe weasel’s say-so if it…” The young woman turned to look at Koni and said, “Who and the five hells are you?”

Koni ignored her and looked at the older woman. “The banner has been raised for the Justice of Veraz.”

The younger local snorted.

The older local was more cautious. “Honored Verazlan, we are fortunate to have you arrive in our time of need. However, the Honorable Tenoch Cuauhtémoc has already ruled here. We are simply finalizing the liquidation of this one’s assets to meet her obligations.”

“You are the elder of this settlement?” Koni asked.

The elder inclined her head. “I am.”

“And what is ‘this one’s’ name?” Koni asked.

“This one can speak for herself!” the young woman said, crossing her arms. “I am Khulan Naranbaatar, and until your people ruined me, I was a trader here.” Her words dripped with scorn.

Koni might have changed since they’d first met, but she was still a Verazlan. She slammed her helmet down on the table and leaned forward, raising her finger to point at the young woman, but Lira put a hand on her shoulder, and Koni stopped herself.

Lira spoke to the young woman. “Taali, I am sorry for your loss, but surely having guests is always cause for celebration?”

Khulan flinched as if Lira had slapped her. “I… I am sorry, Zochin. I would welcome you, but I have nothing left to give.”

“The clan will provide in your time of need, Zaluu,” the elder said gently. “Please, all of you sit. I will have tea brought to us.”

What followed were twenty excruciating minutes of pleasantries that had Janus and Koni almost leaping out of their chairs. Khulan, the young trader, also looked like she was about to explode. Only Lira and the elder managed to make the situation look like an effortless and casual discussion of the weather, the migratory herds, and the particular quality of snow that had blown through the village the day before their arrival.

People started to join the table. First, it was local officials of lower stature, like the one who had greeted them at the entrance. They were polite and curious, although Janus couldn’t keep track of their names or functions. Then, a flustered Pugarian in ill-fitting local clothes huffed over. “What’s the meaning of this?” He glared angrily at the newcomers, then froze as he saw Koni.

“This is Paddack Gibson,” the elder said. “He’s been with us for such a long time. I’m sure he remembers our customs.”

“Yes…” Gibson said, easing his bulk into one of the seats. “Forgive me, elder. I was in one of the sweat rooms. I was surprised to hear the deliberations were being reopened.”

“A Pugarian thinking a sale was final? Perhaps you’ve been on the steppes too long,” the elder said in a grandmotherly tone. “Let me make you some tea.”

Gibson hesitated, then said, “Thank you, Noyon. You know I rely on your counsel.”

She just told him he’s not welcome in the village anymore, Lira sent them over the team channel.

Yes, Koni answered. It was very amusing.

Janus didn’t find it amusing, but he did understand that while nothing was being said, things were happening, so he settled down.

Everything okay over there? Mick asked. Are they kicking Koni out?

Everything is fine, Janus sent.

A final guest joined the party. Janus could tell he was Verazlan by his outfit, but Janus had never seen a Verazlan move so nervously, like a herd animal walking into a predator’s den. “You sent for me, elder?”

“Welcome, honorable judge. I thought you might enjoy the company of one of your peers,” the elder said.

Tenoch Cuauhtémoc glanced at Koni and said, “I’m afraid my family could not claim peerage with one so exalted, elder.”

“How clumsy of me,” the elder said.

The nervous Verazlan sat down. By some coincidence, the only seat remaining was directly across from Koni.

“Tenoch,” Koni said.

“Honored Atl-Verazlan. I thought I’d heard you’d stepped away from official duties.”

“I was just in Veraz,” Koni said. “It seems I will be stepping back in.”

“I see,” Tenoch said. “Well, I assure you, there is nothing to review here. I judged the case strictly on the evidence.”

“What evidence?” Khulan asked. “There is only Paddack Gibson’s word!”

The Pugarian trader rapped the top of the table. “There are contracts you signed, and there is the absence of my goods. What more do we need?”

“The goods are still out there!” Khulan said, standing and shouting.

“Sit down, Zaluu!” the elder said.

What does Zaluu mean? Janus asked.

It’s a fond but exasperated word for youth, Lira answered.

“And you!” Khulan said, glaring at Tenoch. “How much did that fat Pugarian thief pay you to ruin me?”

Paddack Gibson turned red, while Tenoch turned a shade paler and glanced at Koni.

“Are you accusing a judge of Veraz of being corrupt, Khulan Naranbaatar?” Koni said over her clasped hands.

“Think carefully, Khulan,” the elder said. “This is not something that can be undone.”

Janus’s heart ached for the young trader. In his mind, it was clear something wasn’t right about how the Pugarian was treating her, but he was also aware enough of his own biases to know that didn’t mean Khulan was right. Bad things happened to the poor and powerless every day.

“I have nothing left to lose,” Khulan said, lifting her chin. “I accuse Tenoch Cuauhtémoc of corruption!”

What does that mean? Janus asked.

We’re going to be here longer than expected, Lira answered.