M. Planck - The Kassa Gambit

It was perhaps equally sensible to extract profit from the rocks themselves, instead of merely from their less substantial counterparts in travel, but not particularly ethical. Prudence had put a stop to it after the first dozen. Why he had only sold that few was still a mystery. Perhaps he wanted to inflate their value by artificially limiting their quantity. More likely he was just too lazy to carry any more than he had to. Having divined the depth of Mauree’s pockets, Garcia had plumbed them for the easy pickings, and then told Jorgun to shovel the rest of the rocks into a dry gulch.

With so little evidence in favor of the reality of lithid eggs, Prudence was forced to conclude that Mauree had managed to sell two rocks for the posted price of fifty credits a kilo, despite the presence of a half-ton of identical rocks not a hundred meters from his front door.

Whether that made Garcia or Mauree the villain, and Mauree or the idiot tourist he had bilked the victim, was an ethical conundrum not worth solving.

What it did make clear was the futility of trying to sell Mauree the authentic alien artifact in her pocket, or even showing it to him. He would value it no more than he did Garcia’s rocks. Open to all possibilities, he had blinded himself to genuine revelation.

But she hadn’t come for money. She had come for information, information that Mauree might not even know he had. Mauree, like his shop, was a cornucopia of falsehoods and trivialities, but also of rumors, hints, and stray facts. Now that she knew what to look for, she might be able to sift a truth from the chaff.

She found him in the most unlikely place in the shop: at the register, recording a sale. Prudence always wondered about Mauree’s customers. Superficially, they looked like normal people. This one, for instance, was a large, bearded man in casual clothes. He could be anything from a low-level accountant to a short-order cook. His purchase was a large chunk of rose quartz crystal. Curious, Prudence asked him what he was going to do with it.

“Good works, my dear, good works!” He blew out his cheeks fulsomely, a sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead. “These ordinary-seeming rocks contain alien souls, trapped millions of years ago under terrible circumstances. Innocent victims of violence—destroyed by atomic fire—blind and terrified—their essences took refuge in these entrancing crystals. We meditate over them, relieving their psychic anguish and releasing them from their prison, so that they may join the cosmic dance once again.”

“A noble endeavor,” Prudence agreed dryly. Such poetry from a man in a soup-stained cardigan suggested that he knew what it was like to be a vibrant soul trapped in a dull shell. “I’m surprised that Mauree is charging you twenty-seven credits for his participation. I would have expected at least a twenty-percent discount.”

“Shipping costs,” Mauree said gallantly. “It all adds up.” Not a trace of defensiveness. That was what amazed her most about Mauree: he had no shame. Either he truly believed his own fantasies, or he was the most core-broken sociopath she had ever met.

“Just part of the cycle,” the customer said. “Everyone who helps the spirits is rewarded. When their fear is assuaged, and their prison shattered, they grant luck and favors to those nearby. I can see by the subtle colors of this crystal that the soul within is both strong and eager to be released. A handful of credits to our dear Mauree and a few hours of meditation is a small price to pay for the gratitude of such an ancient and powerful being.”

Why did the spiritual ones always turn out to be like Garcia? Long speeches about helping others, but always the inside deal, the percentage, the cut off the top. Nobility done for the basest of motives.

Prudence thought about the fat voucher she had cashed on Altair, and subdued her delusions of superiority.

“Often the pleasurable sensations of freedom at the moment of release are overwhelming,” the chubby man continued. “The spirit broadcasts them willy-nilly, and rescuers have been known to be overcome by such exalted emotion. Occasionally even to the point of sensuality…” He smiled, aiming for inviting, knowing, sophisticated. He achieved leering.

At least Prudence hadn’t flown two straight days of rescue hops merely to get laid.

On the other hand, sex was a healthy part of life. If that’s what it took for Chubby to get in the game, who was she to complain? Just because he wasn’t her type didn’t mean he wasn’t somebody’s type.

“Sounds interesting,” she said sweetly, “but that would conflict with my vow of chastity.”

Chubby wasn’t completely thick. He smiled sadly, achieving the expression perfectly this time—presumably he had plenty of practice with that one—and excused himself.

“Would you like a crystal of your own?” Mauree asked. “Perhaps you and your young man could do a cosmic good deed.”

“Why would I have a young man?” she asked him. “I just said I had a vow of chastity.”

Mauree looked over to where Jorgun was playing with some vaguely dinosaur-shaped toys, and shrugged genially. “I try not to judge.”

Given that her relationship with Jorgun was both special and chaste, it was understandable that Mauree might think they were in some weird romantic entanglement. Mauree didn’t necessarily know it was more like mother and son. Mauree wasn’t trying to offend, and he wouldn’t be offended, no matter what her relationship with Jorgun turned out to be. As always, she found his total acceptance of any arrangement, no matter how inherently unbalanced, to be itself a source of aggravation.

“No,” she said, more shortly than she intended. “I’m here for something else. Something special, Mauree. Something … new.”

“Battle tokens of the killer fleet that destroyed Kassa?” Mauree looked truly sad. “I don’t have any. The shop’s had more visitors in the last day than all of last week, but all anybody wants are Kassan souvenirs.”

“Have you gotten any new curios in, Mauree? I mean in the last few months.” If the ship had been planted, maybe they planted other evidence.

“Always, dear, always! Look at these Burgundian shamanistic feather-wands, still charged with power. And here are two ancient scrolls speaking of alien visitations, although sadly untranslatable by modern means. Or perhaps this vial of rare sea salt, said to restore youth and vigor … oh, you did say you were specifically not interested in that. Perhaps a chakratic notch filter? I understand it works off of an alien technology that enhances audio replay. A young fellow brought me some just a few weeks ago.” Mauree started to wander down the corridor, peering at objects on the shelves, as if he were not entirely certain himself what a chakratic notch filter would look like.

She would have to steer him in the right direction. It should be safe to reveal facts to him that she had concealed from everyone else. No one was going to question Mauree, anything he said would be easy to deny, and in any case, he was unlikely to remember who had told him the facts in the first place.

“What about spiders, Mauree?”

“Eh?” he said, surprised. “No, I don’t think so, dear. I had the exterminator in a month ago.”

“Giant spiders, Mauree. Giant alien intelligent spiders with spaceships.”

“Oh no, dear.” His tone was authoritative and reassuring. “You don’t need to worry about that. I’m sure this Kassan thing, however terrible it is, is just ordinary people misbehaving. There aren’t any evil aliens in the great Out.”

This answer was so utterly at odds with what she expected from Mauree the alien artifact dealer that her suspicion went into full thrust. If only she could figure out a plot that included Mauree in any capacity and still made a shred of sense.