Shadows of the Indignant by Dave Galanter

Author:Dave Galanter [Galanter, Dave]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, General, Science Fiction, Space Opera, Adventure
ISBN: 9781416534532
Publisher: Simon and Schuster
Published: 2006-01-01T08:00:00+00:00

Chapter 6

Dedir orTola was a stout figure, and that was an interesting sight for Kirk. It spoke to a rich diet, and when foodstuffs were scarce, that was what might be considered a real, live clue. If Dedir was eating well, that meant he was being paid well, and when there were people lined up for jobs, obviously trying to supplement whatever the government and help agencies could give them, a job that paid well meant someone needed very specialized skills. Hefting crates around, keeping track of them, and coordinating shipments didn’t require great expertise.

When Kirk approached him on the large platform that was dock seventeen, he was standing with an older-fashioned data slate, poking in commands to its interface with a short, dirty stylus that probably used to be white but had turned grubby with time.

“Dedir orTola?”

The Payav man looked up slowly, connected with Kirk’s eyes for a second, then looked back down. “What?”

Again, English, no need for a translator.

“I’d like to ask you a few questions- “

“I don’t got time for no questions,” Dedir snapped, and began walking toward an office cubicle at one corner of the bay.

“You speak well,” Kirk said. “You’ve mastered the double negative, at least.”

Dedir turned a half step, and Kirk could see his expression was confused. “What?”

“I’ve heard good things about you,” Kirk said. “I wanted to offer you a job.”

Chuckling, Dedir turned away again and made way for his office, and Kirk followed him. “I have job,” he said. “Get missing.”

“Get lost, you mean.” Kirk stood in the doorway of Dedir’s office as the chubby Payav folded himself into the seat behind his narrow desk. “You’ve not even heard how much the job pays. It might be much more than you make here.”

“Get lost, I said.”

“At least you learn quickly.”

“Whatever, a’sloointa Dinpayav,” he said, this time all in his own language.

Every person Kirk spoke to was different and each required his own brand of finesse. With Dedir, Kirk moved quickly across the room and pressed his hand down onto the arm of Dedir’s chair, pinning his right hand down. “I’m going to assume,” Kirk said, easily blocking a useless, leverageless blow from Dedir’s left hand, “that ‘a’sloointa’ isn’t the nicest thing you could say to a person on this planet.”

“Let me up,” Dedir struggled, and Kirk pressed down harder on his wrist.

“I have questions, Dedir,” Kirk whispered. “Starting with who pays you.”

“I work for the people who own this dock- “

Kirk shook his head and spun the chair fully toward him. With his right hand he pinned down Dedir’s other wrist to the arm of the chair and now a look of fear truly fell across the Payav’s hairless brow. He struggled, to no avail.

“You might work for them in name, but I want to know who you work for in deed,” Kirk said, and leaned close. “And don’t lie to me.”

“Get your furry hands off me!” Dedir insisted.

“No.” Kirk pressed harder still, putting as much of his body weight on Dedir’s wrists as he could.

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