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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Science Fiction
- Subject: Character Based
- Published: 08/15/2024
An Honest Junk Trader
Born 1990, M, from Trail, BC, CanadaTonight – I’ll finally have a ship.
This thought sprang to Corvo’s mind as he gathered various pieces of junk in his arms. A flux-capacitor here; a thermocouple unit there; and any display panels he could spot. It was easy to maneuver around the space-barge, Corvo’s slight stature allowed it. Plus, he came to search this particular junk pile often.
“Doing a run for spare scrap?” A voice from behind him asked.
“No, -already completed my run. I’m trying to locate hardware to tune-up a Scimitar class fighter.” Corvo responded, continuing to rummage.
“Which Scimitar class fighter?” The voice asked.
“You know the one.” Corvo said simply.
“Where’s the credits?” The voice asked gruffly. “It is after all my space-fighter.”
“Right here!” Corvo Cassius whirled around, stuffing the pieces of spaceship debris into the humanoid’s arms.
The blue humanoid that was speaking to Corvo was named Gr’ikkta. He wasn’t that different from his human counterpart – blue skin aside – the junk-dealer was nearly biologically identical to the earth dweller. But his eyes were more akin to a Terran reptile and he had a much thinner frame than the average human; but beyond that they were very similar. Some minor differences in the organs, but Corvo couldn’t remember the specifics right now, he was too anxious.
“But this is my junk.” Gr’ikkta dropped the refuse to the ground. He crossed his arms in a show of mild irritation and incomprehension.
.
“Exactly.” Corvo replied, smiling. “Here, let’s go sit in the flight-cabin and I’ll explain what I mean.”
***
Gr’ikkta with his lanky physique sat at a triangular table, inside the control section of the barge. His feet were propped up on a trunk – a small cage was sitting on the floor housing a fluorescent plant; which was currently emitting an alarmingly noxious smell. Corvo Cassius worried that he might need a mask. Surely, his long-time friend wouldn’t be neglectful enough to not mention it. Surely.
“Are my lungs the same as yours? I can’t remember.” Corvo inquired of Gr’ikkta.
The junk-dealer looked down at the plant, and then back at the human.
“Why?” Gr’ikkta asked. The blue-skinned man looked at Corvo for a moment and then smiled wryly. “Because of this little thing?” He knelt down beside the cage. “It’s not poisonous – the perfume it creates helps with the smell of mech-oil, plastics, and other pollutants.”
“It smells much worse than everything you just listed.” Corvo, plugged his nose to illustrate.
“Ahh, but it cleans the air my friend. Makes it – much healthier.”
Yeah maybe for you, but how about me? Man, I should’ve read up more on his species back at home – on earth. These outer-region computers are way out of date. His mind was running away with him. He told it to relax; it must be the nerves.
“Okay – let’s drop it. What I really need to know: how much do you want for that old bucket of bolts, that dysfunctional Scimitar – that you got out back rusting. How much? And if you say more than 700 cred-relics, I’ll walk right outta’ here.”
Gr'ikkta stroked a patch of blue whiskers attached to his chin before answering.
"How about 650 CR?" The junk-trader responded to Corvo, leaning back further in his chair.
"Fine." The young man dumped a gilded pouch onto Gr'ikkta's desk. Several octagonal pieces of metal slid forth from the receptacle. The older man's eyes lit up, evidently this piqued his interest. His skin even became a darker shade of blue, or maybe it was just Corvo's imagination.
"Great Jelite! Where did you get all this?" Gr'ikkta inquired while running a handheld device across the cred relics to check denominations and authenticity. It was impossible to know the amount left on the digital ledger of the discs; unless one was in possession of a "cred scanner" – the device that the junk-dealer was currently employing.
Corvo explained, hurriedly. "Someone, prepaid me for passage through the slip-gate. They have a ship meeting them on the other end; I'm fairly certain I can have that old bird flying with the pieces I've collected from your scrap-piles." Corvo got up from his seat and started to pace back-and-forth. "So, is it a deal or what – you old mizer?"
Gr'ikkta also stood up swiftly – extending his azure coloured hand. "Yes, it is a deal, small earthling. Congratulations; you are the proud owner of a broken down Scimitar class fighter."
The young space-pilot stood, shook hands with his trading partner, and watched as the other man gathered the money into a small ornate box. After this trip — Corvo Cassius would be well on his way to earning a living among the interstellar reaches; instead of scavenging like some outer territory bum. Corvo left the control section and began the repairs/upgrades on his vessel. It would take most of the afternoon, and he had to hurry to meet his deadline. He would be cutting it very close.
But right now, with visions of the endless expanse of universe before him — almost anything seemed possible.
An Honest Junk Trader(Lee Fenton)
Tonight – I’ll finally have a ship.
This thought sprang to Corvo’s mind as he gathered various pieces of junk in his arms. A flux-capacitor here; a thermocouple unit there; and any display panels he could spot. It was easy to maneuver around the space-barge, Corvo’s slight stature allowed it. Plus, he came to search this particular junk pile often.
“Doing a run for spare scrap?” A voice from behind him asked.
“No, -already completed my run. I’m trying to locate hardware to tune-up a Scimitar class fighter.” Corvo responded, continuing to rummage.
“Which Scimitar class fighter?” The voice asked.
“You know the one.” Corvo said simply.
“Where’s the credits?” The voice asked gruffly. “It is after all my space-fighter.”
“Right here!” Corvo Cassius whirled around, stuffing the pieces of spaceship debris into the humanoid’s arms.
The blue humanoid that was speaking to Corvo was named Gr’ikkta. He wasn’t that different from his human counterpart – blue skin aside – the junk-dealer was nearly biologically identical to the earth dweller. But his eyes were more akin to a Terran reptile and he had a much thinner frame than the average human; but beyond that they were very similar. Some minor differences in the organs, but Corvo couldn’t remember the specifics right now, he was too anxious.
“But this is my junk.” Gr’ikkta dropped the refuse to the ground. He crossed his arms in a show of mild irritation and incomprehension.
.
“Exactly.” Corvo replied, smiling. “Here, let’s go sit in the flight-cabin and I’ll explain what I mean.”
***
Gr’ikkta with his lanky physique sat at a triangular table, inside the control section of the barge. His feet were propped up on a trunk – a small cage was sitting on the floor housing a fluorescent plant; which was currently emitting an alarmingly noxious smell. Corvo Cassius worried that he might need a mask. Surely, his long-time friend wouldn’t be neglectful enough to not mention it. Surely.
“Are my lungs the same as yours? I can’t remember.” Corvo inquired of Gr’ikkta.
The junk-dealer looked down at the plant, and then back at the human.
“Why?” Gr’ikkta asked. The blue-skinned man looked at Corvo for a moment and then smiled wryly. “Because of this little thing?” He knelt down beside the cage. “It’s not poisonous – the perfume it creates helps with the smell of mech-oil, plastics, and other pollutants.”
“It smells much worse than everything you just listed.” Corvo, plugged his nose to illustrate.
“Ahh, but it cleans the air my friend. Makes it – much healthier.”
Yeah maybe for you, but how about me? Man, I should’ve read up more on his species back at home – on earth. These outer-region computers are way out of date. His mind was running away with him. He told it to relax; it must be the nerves.
“Okay – let’s drop it. What I really need to know: how much do you want for that old bucket of bolts, that dysfunctional Scimitar – that you got out back rusting. How much? And if you say more than 700 cred-relics, I’ll walk right outta’ here.”
Gr'ikkta stroked a patch of blue whiskers attached to his chin before answering.
"How about 650 CR?" The junk-trader responded to Corvo, leaning back further in his chair.
"Fine." The young man dumped a gilded pouch onto Gr'ikkta's desk. Several octagonal pieces of metal slid forth from the receptacle. The older man's eyes lit up, evidently this piqued his interest. His skin even became a darker shade of blue, or maybe it was just Corvo's imagination.
"Great Jelite! Where did you get all this?" Gr'ikkta inquired while running a handheld device across the cred relics to check denominations and authenticity. It was impossible to know the amount left on the digital ledger of the discs; unless one was in possession of a "cred scanner" – the device that the junk-dealer was currently employing.
Corvo explained, hurriedly. "Someone, prepaid me for passage through the slip-gate. They have a ship meeting them on the other end; I'm fairly certain I can have that old bird flying with the pieces I've collected from your scrap-piles." Corvo got up from his seat and started to pace back-and-forth. "So, is it a deal or what – you old mizer?"
Gr'ikkta also stood up swiftly – extending his azure coloured hand. "Yes, it is a deal, small earthling. Congratulations; you are the proud owner of a broken down Scimitar class fighter."
The young space-pilot stood, shook hands with his trading partner, and watched as the other man gathered the money into a small ornate box. After this trip — Corvo Cassius would be well on his way to earning a living among the interstellar reaches; instead of scavenging like some outer territory bum. Corvo left the control section and began the repairs/upgrades on his vessel. It would take most of the afternoon, and he had to hurry to meet his deadline. He would be cutting it very close.
But right now, with visions of the endless expanse of universe before him — almost anything seemed possible.
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- 5
Cheryl Ryan
08/30/2024This is a satisfying sci-fi story. I like how the author combines the abstract and the possible to achieve a satisfying ending.
Thank you for sharing!
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Lee Fenton
08/31/2024Glad you noticed, thank you Cheryl.
This will be the shortest short story I'll write, 800ish words. That made the ending a wee bit challenging to formulate.
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Joel Kiula
08/30/2024A good story to read. I would love to get more of this story because i think we deserve alittle bit of fun.
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Shirley Smothers
08/30/2024Loved your story. I like sci-fi stories especially ones with a promising ending. It is nice to imagine a cool future. Congratulations on Short Story Star of the Day.
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Denise Arnault
08/15/2024This looks like it could be a fun part of a larger tale. I liked it. Is there more to come?
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
Lee Fenton
08/15/2024Possibly, not entirely sure yet. I would certainly like to continue the narrative.
Thanks for the comment and praise, Denise!
COMMENTS (5)