Meet the duo here, in the original No.1 post.

​

https://preview.redd.it/tek0piihlovb1.jpg?width=960&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=ea20f39e612ce1754e0d11976a1b4242af59d81d

THE PACKAGE

​

Bathed in the screen glow of an array of holos, spread out before it mid-air, the Gek waited. Index finger poised over the sell icon.

Local economic math models, dancing geometric prisms of intersecting price points. Slowly, inevitably, the system cobalt price was coalescing toward an optimum high intersection point, creating a buyback cost ratio that made its glands tingle.

The Gek watched those flickering projection lines begin to knit and feel their way toward each other. Its breath grew heavy. The light dancing across all four irises of its wide ocular crest.

It waited for the optimum moment to dump the entire stock of its accrued cobalt stores, onto the system market and perform a rapid buy back, before trade station AI core could reconfigure pricing against wider sector stocks. This was Gek verse the indefatigable complexity of a digital overseer. Flesh verse machine. Somewhere primal, a warrior spirit flickered.

The opponent, the AI intellect, was some significant distance above; two planets removed, in orbit of an ocean world, as it moved through translunar space between the latter and its two moons, threading a path to accommodate an incoming trade fleet. A dance of two suns, seven worlds, four moons and fourteen – update – fifteen starships. A heavy fighter had just jumped in behind the fourth planet.

Aboard the station however, a visitor was abusing the starship disassembler, rendering down their eighth vessel in a row. Purchasing each in turn from among the usual wax and wane of inbound waves of craft. An odd behaviour, which left the AI momentarily fascinated.

It chose to set aside the incoming barely legal, highly probable, market saturation event to a secondary trading algorithm to correct. The orbital transit task delegated to a lesser navigational core. Allowing the AI itself, as an organic would say, to sit back and watch.

Gesticulating wildly in self flagellation, the visitor had realised the more capable of the latest pair of starships it recently owned, had owned, was just disassembled. Rather than the lesser capable vessel, which seemed to be the preferred objective of the game it was playing. The lost ship pattern was still in the stations manufacturing nanite buffer, prior to mapping reusable components, but the AI chose not to notify the visitor of this reality. Besides it was too dangerous to reassemble a starship back onto the flight line when others were present.

It had warned the user. Twice. Perhaps a third, in general, was in order?

The AI allocated point zero two percent computational power to this concept. Outlined a brief. Created a low resolution game space, made an avatar to explore this simulation of procedural starships, visiting the station and binary disassembly decisions. It played this out across several hundred iterations and concluded such individuals might be doing this for modification parts, a not so easily remapped reusable, by which they increased their chances of obtaining through multiple cheap craft. Curious. The more expensive starships offered better returns individually, but sometimes; four hundred and twenty eight times in fact, multiple lesser vessels appeared a viable strategy too. Amazing use of chance it thought. Then it ran another game. So far, two warnings seemed fair.

Anyhow, it largely ignored the, already delegated, incoming commodities anomaly.

Back at the settlement, those distant two worlds away, suffering an episode of singular focus, the Gek began involuntarily chittering its beak in anticipation.

Also nearby the quivering Gek, a mere two steps away, a small format teleport receiver stood tall and unused. A mistaken multi-tool render by the Gek, which it refused to breakdown, otherwise proving it was a bad use of valuable nanites. So it stayed there for show, but largely hidden under a dust drape, which had over time, come to hang treacherously across the edge of the upper emitter.

This blew off, to settle across the kiosk and wink out the holos, in a moment of surprise activation. It was met with a rasp of anguish at the distraction. The Gek hopped down immediately to assail the traitorous machine, drape drawn away violently in one hand.

A rectangular carbon-sheathed parcel sat on the lower emitter, lit by the latent glow of the device as it spooled down, lighting the incoming warpath of the Gek with drape in tow.

Stooping over to squint at the laser etched consignment mark on the small package, the Gek realised it wasn’t a local system barcoding. It was a standardised courier format most passing intersystem freighters used for small object transmission. Since the Gek had the only public pad in the vicinity of the settlement, by dint of not bothering to privately register it originally (due to the aforementioned embarrassment), the package had transposed here first, and not officially at the settlement overseer’s office three buildings over.

This unit pinching method, when fulfilling a delivery contract, was to avoid fees. The Gek took a moment to admire that.

It dawned on the merchant, this could be a more regular service for the settlement, actually get some use out of this thing, deliver purchases anonymously for surreptitious collection here. Naturally, a fee for this unmentionable could be charged, why one could – standing bolt upright from its plotting, the Gek razzed loudly,

“Low spawn fool!” It rasped at itself.

Dashing back, a warning notification of a significant regional price correction greeted the Gek before it even hopped back onto the kiosk stool. Caught between curiosity, scheming and the original task, the rush of an opportunity lost, struck hard.

Exuding a funk so foul it would have caused gnarly starship crew to draw their beaks tight, it bit into the drape viciously, gnawing on the fabric like a porwigles pacifier, watching a market algo work and the dancing prisms frittered away from each other.

​

——

​

Trim seal was good. Engine cowling replacement finish was flush and the new thruster mod looked, well, it looked like it was an original part of the aged Alpha. The Traveller patted the side of the ship, content with the final inspection. It was good to be out of the hangar, sky above, stars beyond. Core-ward again.

The suit pinged a Gek bio-sign, already visible, approaching the landing pad.

Happy for the interruption, the Traveller slid a hand along the lengthy snubbed nose whilst walking toward the stout figure crossing the makeshift landing fields. It was the ship merchant, the only Gek in the settlement with a broad, four eyed, horizontal ocular crest. But more so the absurd roundel hat, Identifiable at quite some distance further.

“Traveller!” It rasped between breaths, again. Waving with one hand whilst carrying a small parcel.

They met several paces from the starship, in the long grass between the landing pads and the buildings. A citizen wandered by looking intent on the overseer’s office, ignoring the pair meeting up. They had become a common sight together among shipyard over many weeks, almost part of the decor.

Leaning back, the Traveller didn’t need filter readings to recognise the scent of frustration emanating from the Gek,

“Everything, okay Rixle?”

Warbling harshly under their breath, the Gek waved away the informal greeting,

“Fine, all good. Fine. Parcel ported in for you.”

Thrust forward so abruptly, the Traveller tentatively took it from the Gek.

“Ah! I’ve been waiting on this, I thought it might not arrive before I left,” the Traveller paused and looked down at the Gek, “actually its for you.”

Startled, the Gek regarded the tall alien with a mix of suspicion and curiousity. The initial aura of frustration lifted with the breeze,

“It is, for me?”

Through a series of odd gestures it somewhat recoiled.

Fussing with the packaging, the Traveller pulled out the contents,

“Yes! A momento.”

“A what?”

“Momento, keepsake, souvenir..” The Traveller began to run out of Gek explanations for it.

They were actually compound explanations, such as; a kept product, an item given without trade from a familiar Gek, or a luxury in demand item freely given; that one could never sell. Understandably the Gek looked up confused.

“An unsalable item. Sounds ..priceless. Disturbing.”

“Rixle.”

“Yes?”

“Just take it.”

Proffered in one hand, the Traveller held a clear packaged miniature statuette. To the Gek; it looked like, actually, it was like, the antique sitting out on the landing pad,

“It is your Alpha. Why do you give me a small replica of your old starship?”

The Traveller said nothing but prodded it forward. Rixle took it finally.

Tilting it over in one hand to inspect it further, the Gek looked up,

“Have I insulted you?”

Removing their helmet, the Traveller held it one hand whilst rummaging over their face with the other. If Rixle had it right, and they had learnt much in the presence of this alien, that was a sign of patience. Lots of patience. Odd, as they had replied quickly.

“No Rixle, no you have not. It’s a token to remind you of our time together. When I’m gone. Something to remember me by. Like a shrine to our trades repairing my ship. I’ve been here longer than most places; so, well, I thought it would be nice, a ..momento.”

Taking a slower pace on the new concept, the Traveller didn’t see any outward sign the Gek had taken too it yet.

“Oh,” the Gek jabbed the clear packaged object toward its larger cousin, “I will never forget that, or you.”

“Well,” the Traveller chuckled, “you now have a permanent reminder. Just in case.”

Setting the gift down on the grass somewhat reverently, perhaps the shrine explanation struck gold, the Gek took off their roundel hat and fussed the rim in both hands, eye crest cast downward,

“I confess, I brought nothing to trade you in farewell. It is embarrassing.”

Expecting this, the Traveller encouraged,

“I thought you could recommend the best place for keffle, and I am buying.”

Rixle perked up, returning the absurd hat onto its head swiftly,

“Of course!” the Gek paused to consider, “a spawn mate has a new mobile kitchen on the far side, I’m a highly valued customer.”

The Gek performed that ever-so-self-satisfied squint eyed, beak raised, wriggle.

“Of course,” the Traveller hid an amused smile, “lead on.”

​

——

​

The ever unlikely pair wandered through the settlement, during which several stops were made with suppliers, goods suggested and rejected politely. The Traveller was pretty sure these had been prearranged if chance offered. Eventually, they found the hover cart, which the Traveller recognised as the one that had a more “trade station” approach to their menu, as opposed to the traditional cookhouse one prefab-hab block over. But didn’t remark the fact and ordered four servings between them. This pleased Rixle no end, who offered a reader handheld to the owner, to be scanned for returning customer benefits.

They chose to sit on repurposed drums, about a recycled table-come-cable-roller, a few paces away from the surprisingly busy food cart. The merchant had eventually begun to tell stories from their trade ship career. Anecdotes on sourcing quality goods, bartering techniques. A bit more avid than most of their exchanges during the Traveller’s stay. As if condensing tales it had meant for a later time that was suddenly, now.

To their credit, the Gek in turn, merrily listened to the exploration based stories the Traveller shared. Interjecting when the value of an item was ill defined, or asking what a settlement, no matter how far removed, charged on certain ship parts. But mostly, marvelling at the differences between systems it had never heard of. A respect for the distance the Alpha had carried this alien, also grew.

Inevitably came the question everyone whom the Traveller spent a decent period of time around asked,

“Why core wards?”

Pausing a moment, the Traveller looked away. Seeing in an eye blink a thousand worlds, a ten thousand creatures, many times that in faces, along a journey to find a single entity encountered only a few times before. A dire appointment lay in that future perhaps. But that was a private concern. In the end a lighter explanation was offered,

“I guess, core ward is a direction.. see what’s out there. Staying put is as weird to me as not upgrading my ship class is to you.”

“No. This is incorrect. I think you have buyers regret.”

“Ah.. I’m sorry, what?”

“No need to apologise. Terrible affliction, one keeps browsing, never buying. Often questioning what to buy, perhaps.. convince oneself before even buying it, not too. Soon enough, it is one merchants shelf then another, and so on. Maybe you have issue with the merchant themself! Sometimes these customers burn down the whole store having seen nothing worthy too keep. Or worse, the merchant does having heard they have nothing of value!”

The Traveller sat quiet before the rather surprising lecture,

“Well I..”

Rixle held up a hand,

“No need to explain. I understand. It explains much,’ the Gek patted the air between them, as if calming a babe, then waved out to the landing fields,“You keep with that and reject any other starship because that first one worked and worked well enough. You repeatedly remind me of this. Perhaps a newer one might be better, but then, it might not. You only buy what you need, work with what you have. Perhaps its all you think you deserve. A sad fate if so. So much to discover and buy out there, or at least consider and buy the most valuable. Buying everything is unhealthy too.”

Sculling back their last bowl of Keffle, the Gek put it down. Seeming to finish a thought in their head alongside the meal,

“Did you not like the what was on offer, here? Anywhere?”

The two creatures eyed each other for a moment. Frankly it was slightly awkward for the Traveller being out gunned by an extra pair,

“As you say, I buy what I need.”

Rixle snipped its beak.

“What if, what you believe you need, is incorrect? Ill defined. A bad habit destined to buyer regret. Perhaps, this limits what you do have. Afflicts your sense of value?”

“My lifestyle is light and fast.”

Alright, did not expect a farewell life examination. But okay, thought the Traveller, you do you Rixle.

“Yes, but you stop many times,” it raised both hands and made scanner goggles, “whee-ping, whee-ping, all scanned, every thing. Then you go.”

Rixle threw away the imaginary scanner,

“Was the destination worth it? All catalogued. Big bug, little stone – valuing nothing enough.”

“Scans bring in units to keep going and I value that starship at least.”

Bobbing their head in thought, the Gek couldn’t disagree. Yet, Rixle razzed under their breath,

“So? A lucky find. Why not a bigger ship. Invest more into your life as you travel,” the Gek crossed their arms, “I do not suggest you go on a galaxy wide trade trap, buy everything, here and there. Filling a ship with nik-naks (Gek thing, long explanation) – but real value, invest in a crew, trade. Make units that way too. Go coreward, it is a big galaxy, travel with a bigger life.”

With a funk of melancholy, the Gek began to idly rotate the Alpha statuette on the table, having pieced it together while listening to the Traveller’s earlier tales,

“Maybe, the galaxy will give you more value. Not just a collection of receipts of past things.”

“Maybe,” repeated the Traveller, sighing, “some things have a price I don’t like too pay, repeated costs become hard to bear.”

“See. Buyer’s regret. You have an anxiety before you buy. Price fixed without thinking of the value. Perhaps you should consider a subscription model, pay as you go, when you think cost not worth it, get rid of product. Or maybe, product is so good you make it a mo’men thing and keep it. Some things have a good warranty.”

Rixkle stopped toying with the miniature Alpha and leaned away.

Looking aside also, the Traveller noted the twin suns danced low in the peach sky. The contrasting light caught the ridgeline and taller habs just so. On request the suit imager took an artfully filtered capture for later. Landscape of course. Observing something beautiful provided a welcome mental break.

“I should go Rixle. This was good keffle (a polite lie) and, well, thank you for your perspective.”

Rixle looked up, tittered something, then gathered up their gift carefully. Even keeping the packaging.

“I have valued your help,” the Traveller offered, “this journey though, that is my own, alone seems best.”

“I understand. Is here good?” The Gek positioned themselves apart from the table and more in the open laneway, “scan me before you go?”

“Rixle.”

“Pah. I am just upset.”

“Yeah, I can sense and scent that.”

The Gek razzed, then began to wander down the laneway toward the landing fields,

“Come, you need to travel again.”

They walked in a surprisingly comfortable silence through the settlement. Each in their own thoughts.

​

——

​

The canopy popped open, proudly pointing to the sky. With a boost against the hidden footwell flap along the fuselage, the Traveller hopped into the cockpit and plopped down. A practiced manoeuvre that was performed through habit more than thought.

Internal systems lit up, lat-long readouts, ship details, scanner pings and all the usual preflights shrilled and chirped. These lights and notifications flickered across the Traveller’s visor, which itself reflected the lone Gek standing at the edge of the landing pad in the tall grass. Rixle clutched the gift, gave a wave that matched the Traveller’s own. The Gek’s hat flew behind as the thrusters primed, but it didn’t flinch at the loss while watching this last launch. The canopy closed and pressured sealed.

Flickering the landing light a couple times, the Traveller smiled as the Gek waved more vigorously in understanding. The Alpha leapt skyward a clean height, pressing the Traveller into the jump seat, then began a lazy orbit of the reasonably large settlement buying time to review a vector and inspect the airspace before leaving the atmosphere.

Looking up for a time, then at the gift, the merchant snipped it’s beak and made to leave through the grass between the buildings and the landing line. Other starships boosted away as night fell and soon that burgling Alpha, still doing loops about the settlement, eventually to be lost in the audible milieu of departing starships overhead.

And yet, it was not.

Rixle stopped and listened. Yes. That was the thruster module he sold the Traveller, now cycling through a landing. It was a distinct staccato hiss which the vent array unmistakably made.

Oh no. It had failed on launch. Oh this was terrible. Not good. The Traveller had been fighting with it all this time since the takeoff! Reputation was everything for a merchant. This was so embarrassing.

The Gek shuffled through the long grass hurriedly just as the Alpha relaxed onto its landing gear. No sooner was the canopy up and the Traveller standing back on the landing pad, only to discover the Gek ferreting around underside, despite the engine heat wafting about.

“Merchant Rixle?”

“..no, it is fine. I am not sure of a problem. The boost pump, this one looks intact!”

“I’m not back because of the thruster mod.”

“Oh? – uff.” The Gek popped out, bumping their crest on the fuselage, tried to hide the mistake by doffing their roundel hat, then looked up like nothing had happened.

“Do you know someone with a bigger ship?”

The Gek was stock still for a moment, a hot spice filled the swirling warm air of the fresh landing.

“A big ship, y’know, bigger than this?” the Traveller thumbed toward the Alpha.

“I..,” the Gek gathered its thoughts, “I do in fact. I know several.”

A satisfied stretch was performed but caught in it’s infancy.

“It will need a hangar, perhaps two, maybe four.” the Traveller added matter of fact. But honestly, had no idea. Resting in the Alpha and at times, camping under the nose, had been the norm for lightyears.

“Of course. Perhaps nine. Nine is good. Other travellers will visit and trade in ship. Maybe you can buy other starships and still keep the Alpha too.”

“Ah. Okay. Pause on that last thought, but I guess I need space for bulk cargo, do this trade thing.”

“As expected. Yes.”

“Alright then.”

“Yes. Then what?” the Gek was confused.

“Then.. what’s next?”

“Oh! Yes. Very fortunate, I have a large amount of cobalt we could use initially.”

“Cobalt?”

“Yes. Base mineral. A lot. Long story, not now.”

“I know what cobalt is, but.. wait, you said We?”

“Traveller, you maintain things well. But you are no trader,” the Gek spun left then right, “Scan scan scan, pah, only thing you do. So, you will need a merchant. Help you avoid buyers regret.”

A small chuckle couldn’t be helped as the Traveller fell into line with the Gek walking the long grass back to its broad and squat hangar, standing alone to one side of the settlement.

“How many units do you have?” the Gek asked with a sudden professional lilt.

Flipping a wrist holo toward the Gek, the merchant paused, beak ever so slightly parted.

“This is just from scanning?”

“Yes, sometimes mining, but no bulk space in the Alpha beyond repair amounts, why?”

Rixle pointed at the long line of digits,

“You are indeed good at scanning. Building things is good too. We can talk more on this. Diversify.”

After they left the landing field; a lanky, exotic looking canid paused to listen for any local fauna as the twin suns finally dipped low and set all under a hint of darkness. Furtively sniffing the rear landing strut of the Alpha, when it felt safe for it to do so; it enjoyed the temporary warmth of the last ship on the field, then made to leave.

​

Whir-dik-dik-dik, ping!

​

“I now understand, the how, for the amount of units.” admitted the Gek while looking into the gloom.

If a little sheepish at doing the task, the Traveller still remained overly pleased,

“Look, it was right there!” indicating with a free hand into the increasing gloom while examining the scan result.

“Twilight Stalker,” the Traveller relaxed, showing the embedded screen to the Gek, “I have been searching for that for two cycles. Last one on the survey chart. I had given up actually. Lone hunter according to this field note, bit uninspired for a name, might submit a change.”

Rixle rasped, not as amazed as the Traveller, abruptly turning too walk inside without looking at the offered scanner readout,

“S class freighters.” the Gek added from inside the hangar, “might need to leave the system though.”

Still outside, the Traveller waved their hands (scanner included) as if to stop a charging grazer,

“S? Hold up, that sounds too large. I’ve seen some big ships out there. How big is S class in Freighter?”

“No more of this. We will deal with this buyer anxiety together. Come, before something scans you back.”

Dipping their head, then tilting it back sharply to the wakening stars, the Traveller paused a moment. Let out a small amused sigh, then gathered up their helmet, holstered the scanner, and proceeded inside with the autodoor sliding behind.

​

Observing the figures disappear, the normally quite rarely seen, Twilight Stalker \* loped along the periphery of the settlement. Eventually up onto a nearby ridge overlooking the part built conurbation. A final glance back, it padded out into the new night.

Signalling with an ululating sub-sonic cry, that reached across the valley and beyond. Eventually answered, due to the vast separation, by the whole pack. Which was itself, busily carrying parts of kills, bedding grasses and cubs in their mouths, moving together, somewhere north west of the canid. The scout sniffed the cooling night air, satisfied of somewhere to retreat too. Panting with its forked tongue, it idly sampled the scent of creatures about it, then continued faster, southward, drawn there instinctively by the season and a renewed purpose.

* ^{name change uploading.}

​

Atop my studio cabinet, in the Southern Alps of NZ.

​

​

​

​