While my childhood friend and long-term business partner Capt. Rufus Dixon was out on Ventana 5 with me, the kind of thing that had been happening to us since we took a kidnapped Beamerling home happened again … the word was just getting around that Kirk and Dixon, whatever type of beings they might be, would make things right.
“We've got another return project on our doorstep,” I said to him on the first business day he was at the office.
“Again?” he said, but after this many years there was no protest left.
“You know that contract we're trying to get to ship through Tulirnarn space?” I said.
“Yes.”
“We're not going to get it unless we solve a big problem – the Tulirnarni are demanding the return of a particular artifact that is in route to Earth. Apparently, the body of one of their kings was stolen and sold, and one of our competitors ships' did it.”
“So, they are shutting their space down entirely,” he said. “Any idea which of our competitors out here has done the dastardly deed?”
“I've got a few leads, given who ships through there,” I said, “but more to the point: I just got the price offered for it, and by whom.”
Dix looked, and just shook his head.
“Well, the human colony on the other side of that space, if Thybirn Fever really picks up over there, can pack it in – that's worth every run a single company would do in a year. So, what does the True Roots Society want with the artifact?”
“According to V.T. [my wife, Admiral Vlarian Triefield Kirk], the True Roots Society is interested in the pseudo-scientific work of showing that all sentient life is such because of human DNA being the basis. The Tulirnarni skeleton has what appears to a casual viewer to be a skull and vertebrae like ours, and thus could harbor evidence that even this far out, humanity is the model.”
“They've never even been out of the Solar System, have they?” Dix said.
“Of course not,” I said.
“Anybody with any sense of creature design can look at that setup and tell that's not a humanoid setup, although, granted, no human has yet seen a living Tulirnarni,” Dix said.
“I did say pseudo-science, didn't I?” I said. “Anyway, V.T. said the fleet is aware and is on the hunt, and if we can figure out a clue or two or head the sale off, that may help.”
“Average commercial and passenger ship from this far out is doing Warp 6 if going to Earth – how long was the news in getting to you?” Dix asked.
“We just got back from Hypahradys yesterday, so, I just got it today – at least three days old.”
“Then we have 15 or 16 days more before that artifact reaches the Solar System,” Dix said, “and that also means that unless a ship is missing from one of our competitors' runs, someone has taken a month's vacation, or quit.”
“I hope the individual has quit,” I said, “for that money, and also since it gives his former employer more time and less embarassment to replace him in an orderly fashion than his just being snatched up and arrested while still employed. Our research department is already working from the Commercial Ship Call Sign Database to find out what ships were running those runs last week and what ships this week – we'll know if a ship is missing shortly.”
Dix smiled.
“This is why our competitors didn't want us to put that database together in the first place … they feared we would know their every move.”
“And they would also know our every move,” I said. “We gave up a lot for the safety of everyone because we have been leading the van out here, boldly shipping where no one has shipped before – now, they can see what we are doing and try to undercut us a lot quicker.”
Dix's smile became a grin.
“A pity they aren't keeping up, though – they have the capacity, but we are using it.”
“And we don't undercut them because you and I said we don't do business that way all the way back at the beginning,” I said. “We don't have to play dirty, and we don't.”
“It was our first company slogan,” I said. “We don't lie, we don't steal, and we don't deal with those who will.”
“Which is why we are where we are today, saving shipping for everybody,” he said, shaking his head.
My computer pinged.
“Here's the word from the research department,” I said, and turned my monitor so he and I could read together.
“Oh, snap – it's Captain Robertson!” Dix said, and I felt his dismay. “Just 35, spending money like water, but on early retirement or extended vacation?”
“And his cousin George Robertson is an officer in the True Roots Society,” I said as the information flowed up. “Stay on the feed; I've got an idea.”
Sometimes, a simple question to your employees can let you know a lot.
“Why didn't somebody tell me Dane Robertson was retiring? Even though he doesn't work with our company, he's such a character that we should have had some kind of acknowledgement for him!”
“Yeah, maybe a swift kick in the tush and saying 'good riddens'!”
But my captains and crews were all laughing … Capt. Robertson was known to be generous, a man you could have a good time with, and some of the Kirk and Dixon men had been to his retirement party. It had been quite the party, at which it was confirmed: the captain had gotten a position with his cousin George, and he was heading out to take it.
So far so good – you would think the fleet would take over at that point, and Dix and I would go on running our business.
Nope. The Tulirnarni themselves were looking and listening, and apparently had a man listening inside Kirk and Dixon Shipping and help from allies outside – so, the Tulirnarni king's skeleton literally ended up on the doorstep of our Ventana 5 outpost, carefully secured in a roll of black velvet with a note: “We trust you. Take the king home.”
George Robertson received a black velvet roll with his brother Dane's skeleton in it, and the True Roots Society ended up being exposed and George himself escorted to a psychiatric hospital after the society began publishing the similarity between Tulirnarni and human skeletons and someone who knew human anatomy confirmed it was indeed a human skeleton, rearranged. DNA then confirmed it was indeed Dane Robertson's skeleton.
Meanwhile, Dix and I went out to the edge of Tulirnarn space, and stopped as all the ballistic drones they had out there got into formation to let us know not to come in there.
I had all my crew members in dress uniform for Kirk and Dixon Shipping so that when we opened communications, we looked like what we were saying … we had come to provide His Majesty safe passage to his rightful resting place.
The drones powered down instantly, and in another hour, a Tulirnarni vessel arrived to receive His Majesty's bones. They beamed the roll of velvet aboard their ship, and beamed back a tablet on which there was an agreement allowing Kirk and Dixon Shipping to ship through Tulirnarn space. There was some solemn, careful negotiation, given the occasion, but the contract was fair, and frankly, priceless, given the situation lying beyond it for the human colonies involved. Everyone agreed, and that was all that.
There was one last thing – a surprise, actually – the Tulirnarni beamed a great tapestry back to us, and said all that they would ever say in the hearing of humanity to this point.
“THANK YOU.”
No human being yet has seen a living Tulirnarni. Yet, Dix and I were allowed to put to bed all the speculation about them being humanoid. This is the portrait of His Majesty in life, as remembered by his people's weaving, so vivid that you can almost see his eight wings flying:
Two sibling fractals made in Apophysis 2.09 ... the one slightly resembling a human skull with a few vertebrae and the suggestion that there may have been wings ... the second, in just the right palette, with all the details!