‘Wake up, Mervyn!’
‘Wozamaher?’ He rubbed the sleep out of his fourteen-year-old eyes and stretched his aching muscles as far as his jumpsuit would allow. A thick shock of red curls swam into view.
Loren thumped the side of his bunk again, ‘Wake up, Mervyn.’. She looked scared.
‘Time to jump ship already?’ He knew she dreaded transfers.
‘No, we need to hide.’
Mervyn bolted upright, cracking his head on the low ceiling in the process, ‘What’s up?’
‘No time to explain.’ Loren waved wires which she was attaching to something on the doorframe. She hid them behind her back as a bald-headed Silvin scuttled into the cabin.
The Silvin scanned them with back multifaceted eyes, like an insect, ‘Quickly, hide in the priest hole under the bunks,’ it squeaked waiving a wizened arm at the stack of bunks opposite, then it ran off.
Mervyn examined the bunks and spotted a loose bolt. He kicked it free. When he threw his weight against the beds the stack slid aside to reveal a shallow hole between decks, just large enough for two to lie in. The smell of rotten eggs assaulted his nostrils. ‘Agh,’ Silvin.’ Nothing in the galaxy smelt like Silvin, and nowhere smelt as foul as a Silvin trading ship – maybe they had smuggled a Silvin mystic recently. The smell cleared his head. He threw their kitbags, spacesuits, helmets, and Academy uniforms into the rancid hole then jumped in on top. Luckily, they had already packed for the transfer. Loren dived in beside him and together they heaved at the underside of the bunks until the floor slammed back into place and darkness enveloped them.
What would Mervyn’s father think if he could see him now. Their last conversation, more a shouted exchange, reverberated in his mind. ‘No, Mervyn,’ his father snarled across the kitchen table, ‘all this talk of racing is just stardust, and as for the Space Academy, do you really think they would let a son of mine into their midst? This hobby of yours has gone far enough. You are going to get a solid job in the mining corporation. If you work hard you could become a section manager and even take after me, become a Senator for the Republic.’
‘I’m not interested in politics,’ Mervyn shouted back, ‘I don’t want to work in the mines, and I don’t want to be a traitor, like you.’ A pregnant silence followed this last statement and Mervyn realised he had gone too far. He tried a more reasonable tone, ‘I just want to race sleds. The Space Academy turns out champions, it’s the best place to learn, and I want to be a champion. Loren’s already got her place through a science scholarship. I don’t have her brains, I need to win the racing scholarship – it’s my only chance.’
‘It’s a trap,’ his father replied struggling to reign in his temper and match his son’s reasonable tone. ‘As soon as you get into Ethrigian space they’ll kidnap you and demand I turn myself in for your release.’
Mervyn waved the e-mail at his father, his trump card, ‘This is a guarantee, from Lord Tivoli – free passage, immunity from your crimes, the Patriot’s own assurance of safety.’
‘Lord Tivoli is honourable,’ his mother murmured. She hated to see the men of her household fight. Predictably, her son’s sledding ambitions were at the route of the conflict. ‘Why not let Mervyn have his chance, follow his dreams, like you did.’
His father glared at her, ‘And who will pay to have his sled transported to the race?’
‘I’ll make you a deal,’ Mervyn said quickly as the tide turned in his direction, ‘if I lose I’ll give up sledding until I can fund it myself, and follow you into the mining corporation. If by a miracle I win, we talk again.’ If his father paid any attention to sledding he would have know Mervyn stood an even chance of winning. His father foolishly agreed to the deal.
Mervyn won the race, and the Tivoli scholarship to the Space Academy, but instead of returning to face his father he sold his beloved sled, purchased his own passage, direct to the Space Academy, and met Loren on the way. As long as he stayed in Ethrigian space, where his father was fugitive, he was safe. He would face his father’s wrath later, maybe.
Mervyn turned to Loren in the darkness of the priest hole and tried again, ‘What’s up?’
‘Watch.’ A fuzzy light glowed in the darkness. The fuzz resolved itself into a viewscreen showing the main control room of the spaceship. ‘I set up this pinhole camera,’ Loren said, ‘I can’t abide being blind.’ So that’s what she was doing. Mervyn found himself as grateful for a light in the blackness as much as a peek at the action.
He could make out the bald heads of the Silvin crew gazing at the main viewscreen, their insect eyes bulging. It is said that in the depths of a Silvin’s eyes you can see a reflection of the universe. It is also said that Silvin stink worse than the disease ridden swamps of Bocas Dorcus. Their eyes are their only interesting feature. His father argued that Silvin traders were the lifeblood of the galaxy. Mostly, though, they were scavengers – necessary, but distasteful.
A large wedge-shaped spaceship, bristling with guns, slid across the viewscreen.
‘Pirates,’ Mervyn gasped.
Loren nodded in the faint glow from the screen, ‘Yep.’
‘This close to Ethrigia?’
‘They’ve been getting bolder for a while – it’s this Nagani or Nubab of Pewitt or something.’
The view on the screen changed. A wild face, surrounded by a mane of black hair, filled the screen; feral eyes, as vacant as the Silvin’s were deep, glared into the trader; two humans stood in the background. ‘I am the Naga of Pershwin. You owe me a tithe – five per cent of the value of your cargo,’ the pirate growled, ‘but as I’m in a good mood today, I’ll offer you a two per cent discount if you’re carrying Academy students.’
Mervyn’s heart stopped. A trickle of ice ran the length of his spine. Technically, they were not yet Academy students, just on their way to enrol. Would the Naga care? He doubted it. What about the Silvin? He had lived in a Helium3 mining community long enough to know, that for a trader, a two per cent discount could make all the difference to turning a profit. What would happen to them if the Silvin handed them over? He could already hear his father saying, ‘I told you so.’ He glanced at Loren, she looked as scared as he felt.
‘Why are pirates suddenly interested in Academy students?’ he hissed, ‘it doesn’t make sense.’ With his heart pounding he watched the Silvin. He expected every head to turn towards the bunk-room at mention of the discount, but not a single multifaceted eye left the viewscreen. That was good, wasn’t it?
The Silvin captain spoke up in a thin reedy voice, ‘We can pay you three per cent... and forget to mention this trade to the authorities.’
The pirate’s eyes came alive with dark fire, ‘You have Academy students on board?’
‘We should agree a price before we negotiate discounts,’ the captain replied bravely. Mervyn heaved a sigh of relief, maybe he underestimated the Silvin – he hoped so.
The Naga stopped laughing so abruptly the sound continued without him, ‘You mention this little chat to the authorities and I’ll blast you to comet dust when I next meet yah.’ The little Silvin nodded meekly. ‘The tithe is six per cent or I take your whole cargo,’ the Naga snarled – the tithe was increasing. Mervyn willed the Silvin to settle quickly before two Academy students became a deal he could no longer refuse. He hated having no control over his own fate. All he could do was watch while they haggled over the price of his skin, like a slave at auction.
‘Four per cent,’ the Silvin squeaked, ‘and we pay in gold.’
‘Done,’ those dark eyes shone again at the though of the gold, ‘and a one per cent discount for your Academy students.’ Mervyn almost dared not breath – uh oh.
‘Your original offer was two per cent.’
‘That depends who you have.’
‘Who are you looking for?’
Anger flashed across the Naga’s face and he glared at the Silvin, ‘Impertinence – I have killed for less.’ Another being, clearly human, leaned into shot. The human murmured something to the Naga. ‘It’s none of their business, fool,’ the Naga shoved the human out of the picture. Next moment he held a blaster in his hand, pointing it off-screen. He fired. A thud sounded over the link. Calmly, the Naga turned back to the Silvin Captain, ‘You have Academy students?’ Mervyn stared, horrified at the callousness of the Naga. Stories of pirates had always conjured up tales of daring adventures not sudden meaningless death.
‘Alas... today we have no passengers, otherwise, I... I would gladly claim your discount,’ the Captain squeaked. He was shaking. ‘Your gold is on its way.’
Loren sighed in relief, but Mervyn’s heart remained stone-cold. He barely breathed at all now. The name murmured to the Naga burned a hole in his mind. Hadn’t Loren heard too?
‘I can’t believe the Silvin didn’t hand us over,’ he managed to blurt out, ‘everyone says they don’t have a shred of decency in them.’
‘They don’t,’ Loren said.
‘Didn’t you hear what that human said to him?’ Mervyn asked, his voice all squeaky like the Silvin’s.
‘The one he shot? No, it wasn’t very clear, just a mumbled. He could be looking for anyone.’
Mervyn breathed a bit easier, but his hands continued shaking. Luckily, the darkness hid them. He lay on his hands to keep them still. In the main cabin the viewscreen flicked off. Every noseless Silvin face turned towards the passenger cabin. They knew. They had heard.
A space-pirate was hunting for an Academy student named Mervyn Bright. Maybe his father had been right, maybe he should have stayed home, maybe they were after the price on his father’s head. He took a deep breathe and steadied himself: Loren was right, it was a mumble, it could have been anything – he had imagined it in the stress of the moment.
Mervyn felt the purr of the engines through the decking as the ship got underway again. He jumped as the bolt rattled free above his head. The bunks slide aside to reveal another stubby Silvin. Mervyn felt like a nervous wreck as he clambered out of the priest hole.
The Silvin studied him for a moment with those deep eyes, ‘Message from the Captain – rendezvous in fifteen minutes.’
The rendezvous meant the start of his new life. ‘Thanks for not handing us over to the pirates,’ he said climbing out of the hole.
‘Yes, very decent of you,’ Loren added.
The Silvin tried to pucker its thin mouth into a smile, ‘Discount too small,’ it squeaked, and scurried back into the main cabin.
‘I told you,’ Loren murmured, ‘not a shred of decency.’
Mervyn tried to put the thought of the Naga out of his mind – a murmur, it could have been anything. Maybe the Silvin hadn’t heard anything after all, just contemplating the loss of their discount.
‘I’m hungry,’ Mervyn said. The vile smell of the ship could only put him off food for so long. Loren kept breakfast bars in her pack; Silvin food tasted revolting, besides, passengers had to provide their own meals. He dug Loren’s pack out from under the spacesuits, pulled out a Merco bar, and tore off the wrapper. Hmm, Quaff-Quaff fruit – no one makes cereal like Merco. He perched himself on the edge of Loren’s bunk while he munched into the bitter-sweet bar. ‘Nothing refreshes like Quaff-Quaff,’ he hummed to himself chewing a large mouthful.
A young blue star twinkled on the viewscreen surrounded by a red cloud of hot gas. Streamers of dust fanned outwards as the new star’s solar wind slowly dispersed the cloud that had given it birth – like the iris of a monstrous eye. In the distance Mervyn recognised the Ethrigian constellation; four stars, known as the Prefecture, where the Patriarch, hereditary ruler of the Ethrigians, ruler over a feudal society.
Another ship, silhouetted by the new star, appeared on the viewscreen. The black dart headed straight for them. Not long now.
‘What you doing Loren?’ His friend’s pale face peered out from the shock of red curls. Her chima, the skin markings that ran down either side of her face, like a human blush, had an orange tinge. She looked excited. They had been friends since birth – there was little she could hide from him. She could almost have been human, if not for her chima – convergent evolution or something.
‘Look what I’ve found,’ she pointed to the viewscreen now taped to the bunk above her head.
Mervyn took another bite of the Merco bar, ‘Hmm?’
‘We’re famous,’ she hissed and punched the air. ‘Take a look at this.’ Mervyn squeezed into the lower bunk beside his friend.
‘Centaph Empire Swallows Up New Victim – Millions Taken into Slavery’, stated the first article. A host of similar headlines followed. ‘Centaph/Puncheon Invasion of Tanu Causes Panic in Neighbouring Ethrigia.’ ‘Only A Matter of Time Before Centaph Swarm Turns Greedy Eyes Towards The Prefecture.’ ‘Republic Will Jump to Ethrigia’s Defence, Says President Al-Zak-Uilin.’
‘That’s old news.’
‘No, down here at the bottom,’ Loren stabbed at the screen. Mervyn took another bite of his cereal bar and focused where she pointed.
‘Outworld Pair Win Tivoli scholarships: ‘I am delighted Outworlders have won the first scholarships,’ Lord Tivoli of Ethrigia says.’ Lord Dracon, hardliner and adviser to the Patriarch, condemned the result, ‘We should not reward Bright for betraying Ethrigia – even indirectly through his son. The result is obviously a fix to further the political ambitions of the sponsor’. Lord Tivoli, head of one of the most ancient houses on Ethrigia, denies the allegation. ‘The competition was open to any youngsters in the Republic of Free Nations, which includes the Mining Federation, previously part of the Ethrigian Prefecture. Mervyn Bright won the sledding race outright. Lord Dracon is just bitter because his son did not win.’ Mervyn Bright beat Rufus Dracon, heir to the house of Dracon, into second place. Demonstrations against the results continue.’
A stronger than usual whiff of rotten eggs caused them both to look up. A Silvin, no taller than Mervyn, stood in the doorway. Mervyn stared into its faceted eyes – he saw nothing except reflections of their cramped quarters.
‘Your lift is here,’ the Silvin squeaked. ‘Get ready to jump.’
