The recycle ship approached the planet’s inner space transmitting its identity, requested permission to dock, and directions to a slip. The console binked, and Buster answered. The controller asked Buster if she would leave her vessel in outer orbit and could she take a shuttle to the civilian orbiter? Buster affirmed. Her great ship was assigned an orbit. Buster stated her identifications, told the controller that she was here on business, and asked if someone was available to talk to her about cleaning the trash out of their orbit. Was she allowed to also visit the planet for a short leave? The controller transmitted her request to customs and said the determination regarding whether she would be allowed to visit KekTan would be made as she passed through customs checks in the orbital station. If so, directions on how to get planetside would be given to her.
Good enough, Buster thought, and she transmitted her acceptance of the terms. Control terminated the contact with a cheerful, “Enjoy Civilian Orbiter Two,” which Buster hoped was a sincere and not a sarcastic comment. Only experience would tell.
The reclaimer barge settled into its assigned orbit as Buster retrieved her travel bag from quarters and then made her way to the personal transport skiff. She ran through the protocols while the hatches closed and dogged themselves. The outer bay doors opened, Buster fired up the vehicle’s engine, and lifted off. With minimal thrust, she exited the Company craft. The bay door closed and the scow secured itself.
Buster powered through space in her bubble of atmosphere encased in metal composites. She made all the ports transparent in order to gage the traffic and junk in the vicinity. Five enormous military facilities had several hundred ships docked idly, and she recognized two civilian orbiters. She wondered if Civilian Orbiter Two was for visitors and Civilian Orbiter One for locals. It seemed like an expensive security arrangement. Most planets only had one satellite, combined as a visitor and citizen station. Apparently these people simply had enough traffic, and wealth, to justify two. After watching for a while, she realized one of the orbitals had only outgoing traffic, and the other, ingoing.
There didn’t seem to be a lot of junk in their inner space. Of course that would be too much of a hazard with so many ships and satellites hanging around. No matter. She’d have a vacation, introduce herself, and maybe next time do a little recycling. Sometimes these new accounts learned to see the wisdom of having a professional collect their refuse and put it in an orbit which didn’t interfere with traffic. She could swing by every decade or two and adjust its path, or recycle it for them into whatever atoms, molecules, and/or composites they required and the components of their trash would revert to. Some of her clients paid her to collect their garbage, return only certain products to them, and take the rest away. She was usually able to find clients to sell the unwanted waste to. Often the potential new client couldn’t imagine what services they might want until she assessed their situation and informed them of their options.
Recycling for Apical was a pretty good job all around. No officers breathed down her neck or barked in her face. She had nearly complete autonomy. She was paid a flat pittance for every new contract she negotiated, a small percentage of the value of every product she sold en route or delivered back to Odoron, and there was always the mining. Space rocks and abandoned vessels were made of and often full of goodies, which reminded Buster to check the commodities markets on this planet. However, she didn’t want to flood any market with product and crash prices, so perhaps private buyers? She would query a bank for the best ways to proceed, provided she decided she liked KekTan. Surely, at the least, the bank would store her booty for a price, and the markets would likely buy something.
Every once in a blue moon her owner-employer would transmit to her a polite missive which informed her of the price she could pay them for her freedom, and the added security of a contract for employment. They’d started sending her these missives six Company years to the day after they’d purchased her. She’d since received one every Company year (seven Earth years) since, wherever she happened to be. She read them and stored them, and every so often deleted the old ones. If they owned her, they couldn’t fire her, and wouldn’t play stupid games with her. Paperwork was less lengthy for her, because of her slave status. But Buster owned so much wealth now she could do anything she wanted, anywhere that pleased her. She had been on the hunt for her future home for over forty Earth years.
Civilian Orbiter Two had been enlarging in her viewports. Two little tugboats were on their way out to meet her. They transmitted the acceptable speed to her, to which she had slowed. They politely asked her to cut engines and any independent boosters, which she did. The petite towboats attached to her hull expertly, though a slight clang, bump, and shudder occurred. The tugs, both on the same side of her conveyance, turned her small launch sideways, until the satelite appeared in her starboard viewports, and pushed.
Either the beings who occupied KekTan were tiny, or the barges were robotic. Perhaps they were remotely controlled. Either way, they effectively and expertly docked the shuttle in the assigned slip. She felt only two bumps. On the small screen beside the hatch, she could see the lights in the docking bay shining red. Her console and hatch indicators glowed orange.
Buster stood at the hatch, listening to the seal secure her craft to the dock, and then atmosphere rushed into the lock. She watched through her small view screen. The hissing stopped, the red light above the opposite dock hatch turned green, and then, twenty feet from her personal ferry, their hatch opened. The space was large enough to let in a number of security personnel.
Buster was already impressed with these creatures. Six short, wide, armed figures enter. In a moment her console binked, and the light above the hatch turned from orange to blue.
“Open hatch,” she ordered.
The aliens in the dock weren’t as small as would have been necessary to pilot the tugs, so she assumed they were remote controlled, or programmed to act autonomously. Her welcoming committee was armed. The weapons were held a little slack, not quite aimed at her; the barrels pointed somewhere between the floor and her waist’s height.
Their wide, stocky bodies appeared powerful. Militarily uniformed and helmeted, they looked almost identical to each other. Their faces were broad and appeared open and guileless, but their eyes were not the eyes of fools.
Buster stepped slowly out of the skiff into the center of the short beings and waited, her body loose and relaxed. Two of them entered her shuttle. The other four stood lacking all anxiety, but alert, all around her. After a few moments, she heard a voice from inside reporting. Another of the broad creatures arrived in the hatchway, dressed in a uniform, but not the military looking one.
“Welcome to Civilian Orbital Two,” it pronounced oddly through a wide orifice in English, which was one of the languages the scow had found in use on the planet, and the one Buster had communicated with the controller in. Buster had not used the language in a long time, since Ordoron was not a human planet and existed far away from human space. “You are orbiting the planet KekTan,” the alien continued. “We are the MekKop.”
Buster stepped through, entering, at last, the satellite. “Thank you,” she said.
“Follow me.” It turned briskly strode away. Buster followed in close pursuit, while four of the guards fell in behind her.
“You will have a continuous security escort while on this station, but the soldiers will leave you once you’ve passed through security screening. We understand that you want to visit KekTan, is this correct?”
“Yes.”
“We will assign you a personal escort if you are allowed to continue to our planet. Once you are ensconced in your temporary domicile planetside, this escort will leave you, but do not worry. KekTan is very safe. Security is a serious matter to us. Here is your customs agent. We know you will enjoy your experience with us.” She or he quietly went away with two of the guards, leaving Buster an escort of two.
Buster already had a good feeling about the MekKop.
“Hello, B-4ST327R,” said the MekKop clerk.
“Buster, if you please,” Buster replied.
“Of course,” the MekKop said, accepting the console’s query to add “Buster” as the preferred form of address.
“Buster. Welcome.”
He or she explained the customs procedure to her, including the extent of the search of her shuttle, while another MekKop took her travel bag, scanned it, and physically searched the contents.
Buster liked thorough security. Some planets were quite dangerous. Not this one though. They wouldn’t let her boots touch their soil until they’d decided she didn’t constitute a threat. This meant not one ion of the planet would be a threat to her either, except, possibly, the other MekKop, and then only if she misbehaved.
“We require a deposit of 20,000 of our monetary units, which is this amount in your currency.” The amount in Ordoron kimbooz glowed on the monitor facing Buster. She authorized the transfer with a touch.
The customs agent described the laws and customs which visitors most frequently came up against, and stated that further information would be available to her in her suite, planetside. “Please read and understand the documents regarding our further laws and customs before you leave your rooms the first time,” the MekKop emphasized. “You will be required to sign a binding legal contract of understanding and consent. We are a law and order society. You may not break the law on our planet, Buster. However, we understand certain customs unfamiliar to you may be breached unwittingly.” Another one of the sort creatures behind the agent had stilled and stared at her. She stared back. He or she lowered his or her gaze and shuffled its paperwork, and then walked through a door which closed behind. She could not see beyond the wall containing the door. The customs agent had continued reading his statement. “You will be warned only once for each infraction. Four infractions of any kind will result in your expulsion from our planet and our inner space. You will be escorted into outer space by our security personnel to what we consider to be a safe distance from our facilities and then you will be required to leave. Any other course of action taken on your part will result in your death.” He paused and looked Buster full in the face. “Do you understand the expectations and the consequences of not meeting them, which I have just explained to you?”
“Yes.”
“Please make your mark here to confirm your comprehension.” The clerk touched his or her side of the monitor, and a box began blinking on her side. She signed her name and Apical Company and Ordoron designations.
The customs agent injected a nearly invisible capsule into the skin on the rear dorsal aspect of Buster’s right forearm, closer to the elbow than the wrist, explaining the contents as her identity information, her shuttle and ship descriptions and locations, and a locator beacon. Another MekKop came up on her left side and picked up her bag. The customs agent again welcomed her to KekTan. The porter escorted her to a full body scanner, which she successfully passed through.
“Would you like to visit the restrooms before we board the bus?” The porter asked.
“I would. Do you have a name?” Buster asked.
“Oh yes. I should have told you. I am Det.”
The porter paused and Buster realized they stood in front of the entrance to the potty.
“Do I tip you, Det?” Buster wondered when would be the appropriate time, if so, to discourage Det from taking off with her bag, or taking something out of it. This didn’t seem like that kind of planet, but you never knew.
“Oh, no,” Det replied. “We don’t accept gratuities. I do appreciate your kindness in asking, however.”
Buster entered the restroom. Scrubbed air quietly shushed in from vents. A carpeted lobby of sofas, chairs, lockers, and mirrors was appointed with several attendants, who all seemed to smile at her with their wide mouths full of carnivorous teeth, or maybe this was just how they normally held their mouths when not being serious and businesslike. Hard to tell. Wide halls radiated off the main lobby, and doors lined the halls. Each potty was self contained. She chose the nearest, and entered. The air smelled fresh and clean. Thankfully, there was plenty of space inside.
She finished her business and moved to the sink. “Please place your hands on the sensors,” one of the attendants suggested, and she did. “The water temperature will automatically adjust after the sink measures your body temperature,” and it did. Buster rinsed her face. The towel that squeezed out of the wall was a soft, fine variety of real cotton. Buster felt pampered already.
The room was attractively appointed in blues, whites, tans, and mauves. The floor was made of a smooth, non porous material, which climbed three quarters of the way up the wall. The surfaces gleamed spotlessly. No water spots, dust, or odor of disinfectants marred her toileting experience.
The john in the stall she’d chosen had been the ubiquitous hole-in-the-floor style. She looked into a few other stall, because some of the doors had unusual silhouettes on them. A number of strange toilet models presented, some of which Buster couldn’t imagine how to use, and space existed for additions. As she exited back into the lobby, one of the attending MekKop slipped into the stall she’d just vacated, for what purpose she didn’t speculate.
On the planet, the MekKop would be everywhere as well, Buster surmised. Orbiters usually set the tone. This tone was pretty nice, much better than the lawlessness or inattentiveness she’d experienced elsewhere.
Det was waiting for her and gestured to a shuttle area containing several vessels. “Here’s our bus,” Det pointed.
“Is this a slow day?” Buster wondered aloud.
“About average,” Det said, and did not elaborate.
When Buster entered the bullet-shaped transport, she saw quite a few people inside, and each person had a MekKop porter. A family of six aliens included three pups, each of whom had an even smaller porter. The kids served the kids, she suspected.
Det led Buster to a seat and gestured. Buster sat. Det noticed Buster’s interested stare and said quietly, “Our older children use work study programs to come up and attend to the needs of our younger guests. This helps keep our young visitors calm and entertained. Lots of our child attendants are from the diplomatic schools. It is their best opportunity to get to know the many types of peoples who come to visit KekTan.”
Buster nodded. This craft was comfortably appointed and spotlessly clean. Buster approved.
“So, tell me where we’re going,” she suggested.
“We are going to the main transportation hub on the planet, where I’ll explain to you your choice of accommodations, and I’ll take you to your preference. On the way I will explain our various modes of moving about the planet. Transportation is free. I will show you how to use the information terminals, and how to discover the restaurants and shopping areas nearby. I will depart then, but another host will take my place. Tomorrow, I must return to the Orbiter, but you will be assigned several attendants who will be available to you at all hours. They can help you find whatever you are interested in finding, but you are not required,” the shuttle doors closed with a slight whoosh, “to take them everywhere with you, unless you would prefer to be accompanied. This is acceptable.”
The pilot spoke through the intercom. “Dear guests, we are about to take off for KekTan. Please fasten yourself in manually to avoid mishaps. Air pressure will be increased and a light artificial gravity field will be applied in a moment as well to hold you into your seats. If you have jaws, remember to move them like this - a holo popped up from the floor and showed several different types of aliens in the act of popping their ears. We will be planetside in twelve KekTan minutes.”
Det demonstrated the simple restraints and Buster mimicked her. The increased pressure and gravity kept the smaller children for the most part immobile, which made Buster smile.
These MekKop were something else. Every detail had been analyzed and clever solutions applied.
Det checked her wristband calculator for the conversion of
KekTan time into Company time and showed Buster, whose own craft had worked out the conversions and supplied them to the MekKop machinery. The team which had entered her shuttle had not only gone looking for bombs and contraband, but for the means of making Buster’s stay more convenient for her and for them. Buster found it difficult to move her arms in the increased gravity, but Det hadn’t seemed to be much bothered by it. The MekKop must be very strong.
Shortly after a bit of reentry chop, the pressure and gravity gently reduced while the shuttle came to a smooth stop on the planet. The energetic kids fumbled with their manual restraints.
Det and Buster exited the bus and headed for an information kiosk.
Buster took several deep breaths. Every planet had its own perfume; this one smelled of water, moist plant material and animal life, and quite a clean city. Again, she was impressed.
“This is how you access various directories,” Det said. “Here are your choices of accommodation. Please choose one. Take your time.” A screen had come up which showed a variety of hotels, rental housing, luxury resorts, and more, all rated, categorized by available features, with prices displayed in Mek/human “dollars”, and Ordoron kimbooz. Buster chose a hotel in the upper-middle range of pricing.
“An excellent choice,” Det said. “The Ambassador Knott Hotel is very popular. However, once we get to the hotel, if you decide to upgrade, I suggest the Nok Resort. I don’t mean to suggest that you will be unhappy at the Ambassador Knott, but we don’t know your preferences yet, and you are unfamiliar with our amenities. Of course, if you find yourself desiring more modest accommodations, perhaps in anticipation of extending your stay, you may enjoy the Cap Pon Dun Rop Hotel Spa which is comfortable as well, but you will, for instance, be doing your own laundry there.”
They’d walked to the transparent door of the shuttle facility set in a huge glass wall extending up and far to the sides. Outside, the round orb of a strong, young, and large star shined down on the lovely planet. The breezes rustled leaves on trees and shrubs preserved in tiny treasuries of native forest here and there. All around these park-like pockets ran a large variety of transportation. There was no exhaust.
Det led Buster to another kiosk. “Here is where you decide what form of ride you would like. You can see the routes, and here is the Ambassador Knott,” she or he pointed to it on the map. “These are the varieties of transportation we can take to get there from here. Please make your choice.”
The options ranged from individual jet cycles to private, chauffeured ‘copters to public ground shuttle. Buster chose the bus.
“Good choice.” Det nodded. “You have to take a short class to use the jet bikes. Public conveyance is the most interesting, although flight is advised as well if you like to view the scenery. I take the bus everywhere unless I’m in a hurry, because the view is priceless and you meet interesting people.”
Buster noted her guide’s use of the English word “people’ to refer to, apparently, both her kind and all other creatures on the planet. There seemed to be a variety of species represented here.
They took a slidewalk to the public streetcar platform.
“If you enter the wrong vehicle, your implant will pulse. Please don’t ignore the sensation, because you will end up going in the wrong direction. You will have to take other transportation to get to your destination, and your journey may end up being much longer than you had wanted.”
The customs agent hadn’t explained the transportation connection to the implant. Briefly, Buster wondered what else he or she hadn’t explained.
The container could include a poison capsule to incapacitate her in the event she decided to commit a crime or went berserk. She’d seen cameras, detectors, and uniformed and casually dressed, but alert, MekKop everywhere. Buster put those thoughts aside because those things also should mean that her vacation would be violence free. Such a safe planet.
The only place free from cameras, detectors, or uniformed guards had been the bathrooms, but twelve of the tough looking attendants had been in there.
The top of the head of tallest of the plentiful Mek she’d seen so far came only up to just under where her breasts would have been, had she had any, but every one of them looked hard as rocks. She still hadn’t figured out if they exhibited genders. There didn’t seem to be any differences, and so, how could she tell them apart? Apparently, addressing them with a gender-neutral single name was the custom she was to follow.
They arrived at the Ambassador Knott, a modernistic glass and metal structure which went straight up. Around the base, off kilter geometric structures housed the shuttle access, several restaurants, and a large gymnasium, including indoor and outdoor pools. They entered the lobby.
Those gigantic windows surrounded a huge common space. Apparently, the inhabitants liked to look at the views. Buster wasn’t sure if the transparent windows were actually the glass she was familiar with from Earth and a few other places. The panes were very large. At any rate, they looked just like glass.
At the center of the great room, a round counter surrounded busy MekKop and human hosts. Det led Buster to one.
“Welcome, Buster, to the Ambassador Knott Hotel,” the human said. “I’m Jiffy. If you take tube six to the fourteenth floor, you’ll find your room on the right, at,” she checked her wrist for the calculation, translation, and Ordoron pronunciation, “corfor ploknits la down the hall.”
As the hostess took a breath in preparation to proceed, Buster said, “Actually, I would prefer if you just used English,”
“Excellent. I speak that language natively. Then, your accommodations will be seventy-four feet to your right as you step off the lift, room fourteen ninety-six. The room number’s beside the door.”
“Thank you very much,” Buster said.
Det still had her bag. They found lift six and rode up together to the fourteenth floor. The door to room fourteen ninety-six recognized Buster. The implant tickled her briefly and the door opened.
“The implant won’t buzz anymore when you approach this door, it was just telling you that the door recognized you,” Det said.
Det put Buster’s bag on a stand just inside the door. “Now is the time for me to leave you, Buster, but here is Som to help you understand the room controls and answer any questions you might have. I’ve had a good time escorting you. I hope we meet again.”
“Thank you, Det. It’s been a pleasure,” Buster said, turning around. A different MekKop stood in the doorway Det had left through.
“Som, would you close the door, please.” Som did. “I’d like to research your full service banks.”
Chapter Six
Domestic Interlude