NOTHING IS MORE DANGEROUS than facing an enraged Gorgohorribilis in the enclosed confines of a space
station. The huge monster had fully engorged the air bladders that
formed the immense crest on his head and along his neck and back. The
subsequent roar could blast anyone’s eardrums into oblivion.
And do
you want to talk about the long serrated talons decorating its
fingers, the stuff of nightmares? Those claws could rip out my heart
and tear it to shreds.
How I wished I had a weapon! Anything
would do, a knife, sword, neutron blaster, or a piece of broken
glass. Well, a neutron blaster would be the preferred method for
subduing the beast, but such a device would do little good, not for
me, not now. The authorities, what there were in this region of the
galaxy, took a dim view of shooting an employer, no matter how angry
or dangerous he happened to be.
“Raddel, how could you be so stupid!”
Wharton roared at me. He happened to be not only a Gorgohorribilis,
or Gorgo per the general staff, but also the owner of Heavenly Solar
Systems, my place of employment. “Do you want to see me
ruined? My
shop reclaimed by my creditors?”
Gorgos are
carnivores. Wharton’s
breath told me what he had for dinner each day of the past week. All
Gorgos, no matter how wealthy, made wretched sales reps. They
couldn’t sell a steak sandwich to a starving Epod, one of the
few
creatures whose appetite outweighed a Gorgo’s. That explained
my
position as a sales rep but not why I ended up in a meaningless piece
of the galaxy. Gorgos were wizards of finance, which explained why he
owned the shop.
“Why don’t I throw you outside the
shop?” Wharton roared. “Maybe a dose of absolute
zero might do
you some good, inasmuch as I would never have to put up with such
idiocy. Although ... maybe it would be better to have you arrested.
A dozen years at hard labor might teach you about justice. Yes, you
are a criminal! Nothing less than a cold-blooded murderer—of
me, my
family, and all the relations who depend on my support.”
My “crime” didn’t bother me too
much one way or another. I had allowed a return, and as the senior
sales rep I had to handle all returns as well as other complaints. A
customer was totally unhappy with her solar system, which was nothing
as described. She had paid for a number of features, which were
clearly botched by our tech department, which apparently
didn’t
know a comet from a planet. Hey! It happens during the busy season,
when everyone wants a special graduation present for the offspring. I
heard that Wharton had the unfortunate techie, who was responsible
for that solar system, incinerated, so some of the Gorgo’s
threats
were real. To date, however, the boss hadn’t incinerated any
of the
sales staff or dropped them off into deep space minus a suit.
On the other hand, I knew little about
the Gorgo legal code. Maybe I had committed a crime—according
to their standards. Keeping track of all the legal systems of all the
worlds was next to impossible, so I didn’t let it worry me
too much. I was a good sales rep, even if the Gorgo forgot that fact from
time to time.
“I won’t kill you today if you make
a suitable sale to compensate for this.” Wharton
didn’t wait for
a reply. He suddenly turned away, stomped into his office, and
slammed the door hard enough to vibrate everything in the salesroom.
I would have preferred two weeks’
notice and no recommendation over death, but the monster paid better
than most. The other sales rep present, Donovan Trewood sighed.
Trewood wasn’t the victim of Wharton’s wrath, but
it might well
have been him. Trewood made the original sale, and whereas the techie
screwed up big time, Trewood’s instructions were not the
clearest
in the universe. One of these days the blame will rightfully fall on
Trewood’s shoulders. As far as I was concerned, Trewood was
the
real enemy, someone ready to steal any customer who walked into the
shop. Luckily, my seniority gave me first choice, and I never
refrained from throwing that in his face or whatever part of his
anatomy happened to be available. Unfortunately, my status had no
influence on respect, and Trewood was always attempting some sort of
camaraderie.
Trewood smiled
complacently at me.
“Gorgo really roasted you.”
“Shut
up.”
“I thought
we’d need a new sales
rep,” he said.
“Shut
up.”
Our conversations
often followed that
pattern. A merry jingle interrupted us.
Man, but was I ever
sick of that
jingle. Day in, day out, it ran through my head. If only there were some way of turning it off or sabotaging the thing. Still, the
musical spurt signaled good news: a customer had arrived at the outer airlock. A good sale today would compensate for yesterday’s
disaster.
Many people asked why Heavenly Solar
Systems was located in a space station orbiting an otherwise
abandoned planet. The wags had it that a space station allowed
limitless parking. The theoretical number of customers who could
enter our shop was endless. The truth was elsewhere. We were here
because of the cheap rent and zero real estate taxes. Limitless
parking? Don’t make me laugh. Our shop only had two airlocks
to which a mark’s ship could attach. Between those two airlocks
was a third, for those who couldn’t make a direct seal with our
station or who were too impatient and wanted to rush in and buy a solar
system. Few people ever entered through the third, and those who did
were trouble, with an impossible or ridiculous set of demands and in
the end could not afford the price. We had lots of window shoppers,
because few people could afford a new solar system. Yeah,
it’s an
unfair universe.
The overhead monitors discreetly
tracking the customer revealed a lovely scene: an Ardean Maximal
escorted by three humanoids. Seeing an Ardean anywhere meant
money—they were the species with more cash on wing than any
other
sentient race. And burn it they did, with squadrons of servants about
them. Of course, if a person happened to be for all intents and
purposes an oversize bird with wings instead of arms, you’d
need a
ton of servants. Maybe the Ardeans were the deep thinkers of the
galaxy, or happened to be luckier than any other species at the stock
market, but let’s face it. No matter how skilled one is with
that
long bill of theirs, lacing those fancy sandals up the leg would be
impossible.
I wondered what
riches they paid their
servants. Maybe I missed my calling? Maybe I should be spending time
with the better races of the galaxy? On second thought, looking at
the dull faces of the servants, either the pay was particularly bleak
or they were beaten into submission. The mysteries of an Ardean
mansion or luxury spaceship were beyond me, so I simply did what I
did best, blanking my face into a mask of welcome and well met.
Trewood would have
loved a shot at
them, but he knew that I had first call on anyone entering the shop.
It took enough cigarette burns to get that point across the idiot.
“Would sir
or madam enjoy a little
refreshment?” I asked.
The taller humanoid
answered. “Yes.”
“A little creme
de menthe?”
The humanoid nodded.
“In a shallow
bowl, please.”
And not too large, if
I remembered
correctly. It tended to be a little embarrassing when an Ardean took
a bath in a dessert treat. Of course, why crme
de menthe should be popular with Ardeans was beyond me. Call it
another one of the galaxy’s mysteries.
I snapped my fingers,
and Trewood
glared at me. Fixing the drinks was his specialty, and I happened to
know that snapping my fingers irritated him enormously. Served him
right! He should have been the Gorgo’s target, not me.
“And what
type of solar system would
madam or sir prefer?”
“Something
for the children.”
I glared a little at
the humanoid
servant. He might have made it easier on me by defining the gender of
my customer. One couldn’t tell the sex of one Ardean from
another
without looking at its cloaca, which would be as gross an invasion of
privacy as is possible. Probably against the laws of many planets
too. Of course, Ardeans can speak as well as anyone, but they refused
to make the effort to talk to any of the lesser races. Beneath them
and all that. What was the point of immense wealth if not for such
joyful habits?
“For the
children . . .” I
murmured. I knew exactly what to show, but for a successful sales
pitch, I had to pretend to be thinking intently. Ardeans like that.
Everyone who pretended to be someone liked it as well. I let Trewood
return with the drink and allowed a few minutes for the Ardean to get
a pleasant glow before I said anything more.
“What I
propose,” I began with my
best cautionary voice as if the pitch would only be made to a select
few, “is a binary system.” To turn on the virtual
display and to
impress the Ardean and its entourage, I said crisply, “Binary
display, factor 425x, inspired view, detailed, special
4001y,” and
a few additional commands of increasing complexity. In truth, I only
needed the first two stipulations, but no one likes to think that his
or her new solar system comes out of a box. Customers prefer thinking
that they’re special, and so the additional commands are hot
air
that do nothing except create a better atmosphere for my sales pitch.
The lights dimmed,
and accompanied by
suitable synthesized music, a virtual display of the binary system
and planets appeared overhead. Pointing at or mentioning any feature
would immediately enlarge its view.
“Each star,” I said, “has a
standard complement of planets, say, four rocky and capable of
supporting life, as well as three gas giants. The gas giants are so
pretty and playful. While life evolves on the smaller planets,
children enjoy watching the gas giants capture additional moons and
comets. The primary feature is that when life does evolve and forms
civilizations, there will be much war, something children enjoy. They
can watch it on a small scale of planetary development until it
peaks. Then comes the feature I like the best. Typically interstellar
travel takes a long time to develop, given the distances involved.
But with our unique binary system, by a peck at the button or a
simple word command, you can bring the two stars as close together as
you want. Your children will have all the thrills of a dramatic and
spectacular interstellar war. And I can tell you, it doesn’t
get
much better than that: entertainment throughout all stages of
development, relative to the planets and your children.”
I had them! I had
enchanted not only
the Ardean but the humanoid servants as well. Whatever I may say
about the Gorgo, his shop did possess all the latest and best
features of solar system construction. What was more, this was going
to be a big sale. Evolution is all very fine and well, but children
don’t often have the patience to wait and see it through. The
enhancer kit, which had a superlatively high price tag, would allow
the kids to skip all the dull stuff. I couldn’t see any
Ardean
settling for anything less. A glorious contract
was in sight when
that horrid, ridiculous meaningless jingle broke in over the sedate
music of the binary display. Someone new was coming into the shop. My
immediate thought was, Let Trewood handle the mark. I was busy and
couldn’t afford to be distracted, but out of the corner of my
eye I
saw that the customer was coming via the middle airlock, the one
without a spaceship docking port. I sighed inwardly. The occasional
wealthy eccentric might enter that way, or it might be the survivors
of some horrendous crash or another, but we discouraged those as much
as possible. I glanced at the overhead monitors and cursed. It was a
bug, which would be a nuisance in the best of times. I didn’t
have
time for such nonsense and hoped the creature would take forever in
trying to get out of its spacesuit, leaving me enough time to finish
my sale to the Ardean. Nope, that wasn’t to be. The bug,
which I
recognized as a Megillan, once in the inner airlock, swiped off its
spacesuit in record time.
I motioned to Trewood
to take care of
her. It would have to be a her, or at least 51 percent female:
Megillans included many different partial sexual identities. They
lived in enormous family colonies. A female Megillan in charge of the
kids would have the resources of many individuals, which was
understandable, since such family colonies had children by the
thousands. Keep in mind, the resources of many Megillans
didn’t
amount to much since they were the bottom feeders of the galaxy, at
least in terms of job description. I caught his momentary frown as he
took the Megillan aside, but as much as I might sympathize with the
situation, Trewood deserved a tough break. Having dealt with the
nuisance, I
resumed eye contact with my Ardean. I was ready to move into the kill
when Trewood appeared next to me—grinning. That idiot was
grinning!
No one ever grins before an Ardean. It was unthinkable, so I dug my
elbow into Trewood’s ribs and transformed his grin into a
suitable
grimace.
“Excuse
me,” I said as humbly as
possible to the Ardean, “while I confer with my
assistant.”
Trewood maintained
his grimace as I
dragged him by the arm behind the sales desk. “What is
it,” I hissed into his
face. “Can’t you handle the easiest
transaction—with a bug of
all people?”
His grin came back,
an evil grin. “The
bug wants to return her solar system. She says it doesn’t
work and
wants a refund.”
I looked into the
corner where Trewood
had left the Megillan, as woe-begotten a bug as ever I had seen. I
suppose there’s something about a bug alone in the corner
that
makes it look miserable. Then again, most bugs looked miserable most
of the time. Then it hit me, but it couldn’t be. Or I wished
it
couldn’t be. I had sold her a starter kit not that long ago,
or so
it seemed to me. Time in the galaxy wavered all over the place, and
our solar systems were planted in the fast loop to minimize waiting
for key events. What was the bug’s name? Ah yes, Lata. She
apparently recognized me too, since she clicked a friendly greeting.
Talk about bummers.
As the senior sales
rep I couldn’t
avoid talking to her. I had no alternative except to tell Trewood to
finish the sale with the Ardean. “And remember, I get
half.” I
deserved far more than half the commission, but that was the shop
rule. A sale divided among reps resulted in equal shares if one
started and the other closed the deal. It didn’t matter who
did the
actual work, which in this case was all mine. The only thing I
expected Trewood to do was blow the sale, something completely in the
realm of his possibilities.
I dragged Trewood
with me and went and
bowed to the Ardean. I introduced Trewood, the bastard, and explained
that he would handle all the particulars now that the Ardean was
happy with her or his binary system. Before the humanoids could
mutter a word of protest, I left the group and greeted Lata who had
remained in her corner, a proper bug indeed. I don’t know how
she
managed to do it with her compound eyes, but a steady stream of tears
streaked across her face. In between sobs, her mandibles clicked
through every last downtrodden fact about her purchase. (I
won’t
try to reproduce her clicks, so think of them as someone
irresponsibly snapping her fingers during a tale of woe.)
“I bought a
simple starter set,”
Lata sobbed. I couldn’t
imagine my selling her or
her being able to afford anything else. Megillans never save enough
to make intelligent decisions. Really, they fritter their funds over
nonsense, cosmetic surgery (they’re partial to extended
antennae),
and the like. “Of
course,” I murmured. “A most
delightful purchase. It had
nine planets and a cute
little sun.”
I agreed with her.
The attraction of
the starter set was a brilliant colorful star. Well, not particularly
brilliant, but lots of cool features, sunspots shooting out flares
and similar effects. That aided evolution no end.
“I was
promised—” Lata began, and
I cringed inwardly. No one in the shop ever made so much as a promise
of anything. Starter sets are starter sets, with various known
weaknesses, but I admitted to myself, many of our statements could be
construed as promises. That is the art of selling, and almost all the
denizens of the galaxy are aware of the fact.
I put a friendly arm
around her
carapace and urged her to continue.
“You
promised me a bug-filled
evolution, something to entertain the kiddies. You see, I’m
responsible for ten thousand of our young ones, and I expected the
burden of all the work I do would be reduced somewhat while they
enjoyed the educational spectacle.”
“There’s nothing more educational,”
I said while casting my eyes upward, “than seeing how bugs
will rule a star system.” Her eyes opened very
wide. “The first thing to go wrong was that the fifth planet disintegrated. One moment
it was there, a splendid place, and then as fast as a blink, dust and
dirt and microplanets were everywhere.” I made a mental note
to come down on
the tech department. She wasn’t the first to notice the
instability
of the planets that went into starter kits. We did have to keep costs
down, but that was no reason why we couldn’t supply our
customers
with a stable set of planets. That should be the least of it.
“A planet
breaking down happens from
time to time,” I said. “I prefer to think that it
adds to the
excitement of owning your own solar system.” Lata continued to
sob. “I wouldn’t
have minded if the poor planet broke apart and the bits stayed in
place, but it caused havoc among the inner planets.”
“Yes,”
Lata sniffed, or as best a
sniff she could do, which sounded like knuckles rapping on a table.
“The fourth planet suffered the immediate effects. It lost
its
oceans and most of its atmosphere. The second planet was progressing
in a wonderful way to a lush, tropical paradise—ideal for
arthropods—but lost its three moons and settled into becoming
a
hothouse well beyond the tolerance for anything living. As for the
first planet, it was knocked into a new orbit much closer to the
star. Trapped in such a close orbit, one half of the planet seared
into a molten desert and the other half froze beyond
endurance.”
“You
haven’t mentioned the third
planet. Surely that endured?”
“Perhaps
you could call it endurance.
The third’s development was pleasing at the outset, but
collisions
with pieces of the woebegone and broken fifth planet turned it into
something else. The end result was that it received a moon far too
large for the planet, and the tides became devastating. But I have to
say that evolution progressed at first, but then it became worse and
worse. All the beautiful arthropods had to give way to other life
forms: reptiles, mammals, and so on. The arthropods there did develop
compensating habits, but they lost the glory of developing
intelligence and civilization. Instead, humanoids dominated
everything, and you wouldn’t believe the havoc they caused.
Would
you credit it: They didn’t like or were afraid of insects.
The
humanoids called them pests and disease carriers. What chance did
insects and the other arthropods have to develop their own
civilization?”I made the mistake of
glancing toward
Trewood and the Ardean bunch, and I had to do a double-take. I
couldn’t believe it! The Ardean had starting preening, which
meant
that my beautiful sale was going down the tubes. I had to finish off
the bug as quickly as possible.
“It couldn’t be that bad,” I insisted. “It’s
worse than that.”“Let me have a look. I’m sure
something could be done to balance everything. Do you have your order
number available?”
Lata told me, and I had the shop
computer simulate the solar system’s present condition. The
simulation was far more modest than that for the Ardean, but I had
the same basic commands available and focused on life at the third
planet. After a few minutes, I had to admit that Lata was correct.
“The situation is terrible, but it isn’t hopeless. As with other
humanoid species, they’re remarkably unstable and on the brink of
self-destruction.”
“What does that mean?” Lata asked.
“All we need to do is add a few more
features, and the humanoids will provide their own solution to your
problem. If you add to your solar system the Hybrid Thermal Exchange,
which happens to be on sale this week for 20 percent off, you can
accelerate the obvious self-destruction by increasing environmental
temperatures on the third planet.” I checked the simulation.
“They’re already on that road themselves, but
let’s give them a
helping hand. Mammals become crazed when too hot and do the most
ridiculous things. The increased heat will bring all-out war. It will
be entertaining for your kiddies, and you can watch the humanoids
destroy not only themselves but also all the artifacts of their
so-called civilization. Consequently, after the nuclear winter,
arthropods will become the dominant species and be allowed the time
to fulfill their destiny.”
“How can I ever thank you?”
“Purchasing the Hybrid Thermal
Exchange, which is on sale. And there’s a bonus for buying
it.” I
lowered my voice. I didn’t want to frighten the Ardean if he
or she
happened to overhear me. Avian races can be so sensitive.
“For this
week, the Hybrid Thermal Exchange includes a free magnetic field
reverser. If you want to see the so-called higher lifeforms go crazy,
reversing a planet’s magnetic field guarantees
chaos.”
“That’s wonderful!”
With her small purchase, I not only
made a customer happy but also saved my job from the talons of a
dreadful Gorgo. As the Megillan left the station, I turned my full
attention to Trewood and the Ardean group. My so-called assistant
hadn’t failed yet. I had time to rescue the situation. I put
on my
best sales rep expression of friendly interest and helpfulness as I
went over to them and elbowed Trewood out of the way and out of his
share of the commission.
“This particular binary comes with a
magnificent Oort Cloud. You won’t believe all the splendid
features
it has.”