The 71s offer to equip them spurred Mr. Grumble into a week-long debate where his request for Makina or anti-Makina technology was consistently stonewalled by diplomatic claims of neutrality. The clones were fully intent on backing this covert operation but insisted on having no actual hand in it whatsoever. In the end, they dropped them off on a small moon in the Elipso system on the far edge of the galactic shipping lanes. The system held trading worlds, fuel refineries, and entertainment planets, but the moon Grimble suggested and the one the clones actually agreed on was nothing more than a scrapyard for recycling space-age technology. The clones left them and a crate of crustacean gold on a transport landing pad and departed without saying goodbye.
From the rusty steel platform, Grimble and Øregård looked out into an industrial wasteland. Factories spotted the bleak landscape belching fluffy clouds of atmosphere into a purple sky. The rust-colored mud of the moon's surface was covered in metallic debris; countless ship hulls, retired space stations, condemned buildings, and discarded dysfunctional robots of every imaginable configuration and size. Rolling hills of computer devices were climbed by huge sifting machines sorting out the trash of a hundred nearby worlds and the discarded waste of a galactic fleet of transport ships that passed through Elipso for refueling and a little R & R for their crews.
"Bad air," snorted Øregård.
"It's not the best, my friend, but far better than last time I was here. You can sorta breathe it," said Grimble from his perch on Øregård's shoulder.
"I don't think the clones liked us."
"I appreciate you having my back."
"They see you as small, Mr. Grimble Grumble, but I see the size of your mind."
"Thank you, my clear-eyed Gastraddar friend. Now, if we can summon a welcome droid..."
A small drone of a robot flew up, scanned them, and inventoried the big box next to them. The droid beeped, its scanner changed from red to green, and it beeped again in a more positive tone. It said, "Please wait here, someone will be with you immediately," in ten different languages then flew away.
A holographic emitter projected an image of a gorilla in spacer fatigues. The sloping head of the silverbacked great ape crumpled in distaste.
"How did a Gastraddar get his hands on such a delicious cargo? I wonder?" said the gorilla voiced through a speaker on the platform.
Øregård turned to face the image and was about to give the furry beast a piece of his mind when the animal's expression changed completely.
"Mr. Grimble? Is that you?" said the hologram.
"Samsun, my young friend, you've gotten bigger. Is Mr. Byggir about?" asked Grimble.
"He's off-world. If you've brought those lobsters to trade, there is nothing on this moon I wouldn't offer for them. It does appear you are in need of a ship?" said Samsun with a grin.
"That we are and a few other things, could we come inside before it rains?" said Grimble.
"I'll send a roller," said Samsun and his projection flickered out.
"Byggir is the son of my second cousin twice removed. He's been running this operation for a good couple of centuries. I'm glad to see Samsun in charge in his absence. A fine lad, though his people were forced into the last galactic war and it might be best if you let me handle the negotiations."
"I've never even seen his species before," protested Øregård.
"He probably only knows yours through stories and not good ones, I'm afraid."
YOU ARE READING
Space Wizards
Science FictionUsually, they say not to judge a book by its cover but....
