As soon as their big door-ramps hit the deck, they started rolling out large carts, followed by some type of processing apparatus. At least ten workers poured out of each of the two cargo shuttles. The workers, both men and women, did not appear as healthy as the four that had ridden with them in Tobin’s ship. Their faces were sullen and devoid of hope, their manner deliberate and paced.
“We’re gonna need power for the processors,” the old man that had sat next to Mendez in Tobin’s ship told him.
“Who are these people?” Mendez asked.
“Just workers,” the old man told him as he headed toward the cargo shuttles. Mendez watched as the old man and his companions began hollering orders at the disheveled groups of workers disembarking from the cargo ships. Some of the workers cringed and flinched in fear of the old man and his cohorts.
“Something tells me this ain’t right,” Mendez said to Sergeant Weatherly. The sergeant simply nodded his agreement. “Keep an eye on things here. I’m gonna round up a few more people to help you out. None of them leaves the hangar bay, understood?”
“Yes, sir,” the sergeant answered.
Vladimir and Danik were busy rummaging through various used parts on a vendor’s table. They had been browsing the parts dealers on the back side of the spaceport for more than an hour, and as best as Nathan could tell, Vladimir had not found anything of interest.
“Why don’t the Takarans come here?” Nathan asked Jalea.
“The resources harvested from the rings are important to many systems, including some in Takar space. Disruption of the operations here would likely result in unwanted economic repercussions within their own domain,” Jalea explained.
“And because the Takarans don’t come here, everyone looking to hide from them do,” Jessica surmised.
“Yes, but safety is not guaranteed on Haven,” Jalea warned. “As you can well imagine, spies are everywhere. I have no doubt that the Takar have operatives here. It would be foolish to assume otherwise.”
“How does the controlling family of Haven feel about that?” Nathan asked.
“I doubt they care,” Jalea assured him. “As long as their activity does not interfere with business.”
“And by business, you mean the collection of fees,” Nathan said.
“You learn quickly, Nathan,” Jalea complimented.
“Not really. Our history is full of similar examples.”
“Ah, yes. We have a saying: ‘Times change, but the human animal does not.’”
Vladimir came walking up to them, dusting off his hands as he approached. “I can find nothing here of use. Maybe, if I had more time, and I knew what most of this stuff was, I might find something. I am sorry, my friend.”
“No matter,” Nathan assured him.
“It is probably best that we head back to the produce area,” Jalea told them. “The gentleman we spoke with earlier will be packing up and leaving soon.”
“The last message I got from Ensign Nash was that they were planning to meet with some local farmer later in the day,” Ensign Mendez reported to Cameron on the bridge. “They were planning to travel out to some guy’s farm to secure a large order of something called molo.”
Cameron’s face withdrew slightly and the unknown word. “Molo?”
“Some kind of fungus or something. Jess-I mean, Ensign Nash-says it’s a cross between a mushroom and tofu,” Mendez chuckled. “I got the impression she didn’t care for it.”
“Doesn’t sound too appetizing, does it?” Cameron agreed.
“Anyway, the stuff grows like crazy. We saw whole sheets of it covering hundreds of square meters when we flew in. Tobin says it’s very nutritious, although kind of bland. He says you can do a lot with it, though. Apparently it’s the mainstay of their diet on Haven.”
Cameron was not happy that the rest of the landing party was still on the surface. With Ensign Mendez and Sergeant Weatherly back on the ship, the landing party’s security element was now reduced by half. She knew that Jessica was well-trained, and she had proven her abilities in combat twice in the last week. Cameron, however, had expected the trip to last only a few hours, and now it looked like they would be on the surface considerably longer than that.
“Did they say when they would be checking in again?”
“They plan to make contact when they get out to the guy’s farm. Ensign Nash doesn’t want to use the tight-beam array out in the open-too conspicuous and all that. Out on the farm, they can use it without attracting attention.”
“Very well,” Cameron said, the displeasure still evident on her face.
“If there’s nothing else, sir? I should get back to the hangar deck.”
“That’s all. Thank you, Ensign.”
Mendez straightened up and nodded once, before turning to exit.
Although she managed to hide her displeasure from the crew, Cameron was not comfortable with their captain and their chief engineer stuck on an alien world. As far as she was concerned, they were relying far too much on hastily made alliances. Cameron had never been comfortable relying on others, especially strangers.
“Commander,” Ensign Yosef hailed. “Take a look at this guy. He’s a maniac.”
Cameron stepped back to Ensign Yosef’s station and bent down to get a closer look at the sensor display. At first glance, it seemed like a normal-looking track of the small harvester ship that had been hired by Tobin. But as the numbers continued to update, she realized what the ensign was talking about. “Has he been flying like that the whole time?” Cameron asked.
“Yeah. At first I thought the sensors where out of calibration, but I checked. Those numbers are accurate.”
Cameron watched as the small ship weaved its way around the larger components in the rings, while scooping up the smaller ones. “He barely slows down when he scoops them up,” she declared, a bit surprised. “Can you generate a real-time 3D model of this?”
“No, sir, we’re still down more than half of our cores,” she apologized. “I could compile it later into a playback, if you’d like?”
“No thanks,” Cameron said. “Just thought it would be interesting to watch.” She watched a few more seconds, still shocked by the abrupt maneuvering of the harvester. “Whoever is flying that thing really knows what they’re doing, I’ll give him that.”
— 4 -
By the time Nathan and the others had returned from the parts market, most of the raw produce vendors had already packed up for the day.
“You have returned,” the farmer called to them as they approached. He had completely disassembled his tables and canopy, and was finishing loading them onto his vehicle. “Does this mean you are still interested in purchasing some molo?”
“Indeed it does,” Jalea answered. “Does your invitation still stand?”
“Indeed it does,” the farmer smiled back to her. “I sold well today, so there is plenty of room for you all.”
“How will we get back?” Jessica whispered to Nathan and Jalea.
“We can contact Tobin. The farms are outside of the city, so there are no restrictions on landing. He can pick us up at any time,” Jalea assured them.
The farmer tossed the last crate up onto his flatbed hauler, dusted off his hands, and returned to them. “My name is Redmon Tugwell,” he announced, extending his hand. “My friends simply call me Tug.”
“Then we should call you…” Nathan began, taking his hand.
“…If you’re going to buy a bunch of my molo, then I guess you should call me Tug as well.
“Okay, Tug. Nice to meet you. I’m Nathan. This is Jalea, Jessica, and those two back there are Vladimir and Danik.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you all. If everyone will climb on board, we can get started. It’ll take about an hour to get there.”
The vehicle was basically one big platform with wheels. At the front of the vehicle, the center portion was raised, covering the main drive section of the vehicle, behind which was a bench seat with room on either side of the driver for passengers. In the middle of the raised section was a small control console, with a steering column and a dash-mounted throttle to one side. On the opposite side of the console there was a small hand-brake lever. There were rails along both sides of the platform, with fold-down benches built into the rails. The side rails appeared easily removable, giving the flatbed vehicle the ability to haul objects considerably larger than the bed itself.