Chapter 13
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“Captain Bumbalee, welcome to Roswell, the jewel of the Myon sector. My name is Riley Mumford. I have been given direction to welcome you and to assist you in your stay in any way I can. We have you staying in the presidential suite in the port hotel. I hope the accommodations will be to your liking.”
I stepped out of the Swift's hold onto the deck of the bay. It was a dull gray. As I looked around I could see many of the buildings were old and in need of repair. One of the bay hangars had recently burned to the ground.
“You will have to excuse our mess, Captain. The last six months have been difficult on our infrastructure.”
I replied, “You don't have to worry about impressing us, Mr. Mumford. Your situation is completely understandable. I would have one request though. We would prefer to keep a bit of a low profile. We like our privacy.”
The aide waved his hand. “Oh, no, I'm afraid that won't be possible. Your presence and your name have already been spread across all the comm channels here on Bullwort. You are already quite the celebrity, a hero I would say. We have about two hundred thousand citizens here. I would wager that most of them already know your name. What you did back there, it really was a lifesaver for us all.”
As I walked on the deck, a bay crewman called out, “Hey, what's your call number? Looks like it got burned off by a bolt. All I can make out is a nine. That's Human, right?”
I turned back to the aide with a request. “Is there any way to store our ship in a protected area? I would rather not have prying eyes looking her over. As I said, we highly value our privacy.”
The aide nodded and waved the crewman away from the Swift with a scowl. We were heroes, and heroes were not to be questioned.
We walked off the bay deck and into a wide hallway to the terminal building. It had begun to fill up with onlookers. Smiles and cheers accompanied our every step. Word of our landing had gotten out, and the citizens of Bullwort were coming out in droves to meet us. It was hardly the low-profile presence we were hoping to achieve, one where our enemies would have difficulty finding us.
As we moved along, humbly waving our hands, I glanced up in time to see my face plastered on a monitor. I had a black eye, a swollen nose and lower lip, a gash on my forehead from bouncing off the wall, and dried blood smeared all around. It would be difficult for anyone to recognize me from that image. I hoped that if it made its way off world, it would be that image, a bruised and battered Captain Bumbalee.
We were escorted to our suite in the port hotel. After the offer from the aide for anything we wanted, I asked for a bit of privacy so I could get myself cleaned up. He bowed graciously as he backed out of the room and into the hallway, closing the door behind him. I made my way to the washroom and began the process of tending to my surface wounds.
Frig entered shortly after. “Sir, we have been invited to dine with the governor this evening. He has offered the opportunity for us to have suits made for the occasion rather than wearing our Messenger space suits. It may be nice to get back into civilian clothes for a while.”
I agreed, and a tailor was dispatched to our room. Half an hour later he scurried away to begin his alterations. I took the opportunity to lie on the bed in my room for a nap. I was feeling fatigued after weeks of travel followed by getting tossed around inside the Swift. I was soon fast asleep.
The tailor returned several hours later with the altered suits. After a long shower, I dressed and met Frig in the main room of the suite.
“Wow, you are looking sharp! I believe this is the first time I have seen a Gambit wearing anything formal. I have to say, you look completely different. You look... what's the word... dignified. You look dignified.”
Frig turned to look at himself in a large mirror in the room. He puffed his chest out and attempted his best dignified expression.
I laughed. “You really don't have to try so hard. The suit looks good on its own. Just go with that.”
There was a knock on the door. The mayor's aide had returned to escort us to the dinner. Nearly a quarter of the inhabitants of Bullwort were Human. I was happy to have a meal with food that I recognized, food that had been a staple in human diets for as long as we had inhabited the Grid. It would beat the strange insects, mealworms, or small slimy creatures that were the norm elsewhere.
The dining hall had a full crowd. The governor, at our request, removed all cameras except for those of the official staff. We were promised that our photos would be altered so that our true identities would not be known. Governor Murphy was very accommodating to his guests of honor, who had ended the Gresshan war.
“Hear, hear...” The governor stood, tapping on his glass with a fork as he raised it in the air. “I would like to welcome our guests... Captain Bumbalee and his assistant, Mr. Chester... to the beautiful planet of Bullwort.”
The governor then turned toward us. “These gentlemen have freed us from the shackles of war, from the oppression of the Gresshan. I expect everyone to treat them with the utmost of courtesy, kindness, and respect. Their only request is that we respect their privacy. Please, do not take video or photos, and please refrain from gossiping about them. They wish to explore becoming citizens, and as such, please accept that wish with open arms and a closed mouth. It is the least we can do for our new heroes.”
The dinner and celebration continued late into the night. After a plethora of drinks, Frig helped me back to our room. “So, my friend, it seems we go from goats to heroes to goats to heroes. We are spies, warriors, and saviors of a world. And now, with the confiscation of our credit accounts back on the Grid, we are nearly flat broke.”
I wobbled as I walked. “These people, they're good people that just want to be left alone. I'm hoping we can count on how tough things are here right now to keep the number of visitors down. We don't need nosy people poking around and outing us. I... we, we need time to craft a plan of how to deal with our situation. Can't say I would enjoy being a permanent citizen out here. I like my freedom to roam, you know...”
As I stumbled and almost fell, Frig righted my balance. “Sir, perhaps you should start by cutting back on the spirits. You have a tendency to get sloppy drunk at times. We need to keep our wits about us if we plan on surviving this for long. I need you to be at your best, sir.”
I stopped and looked Frig in the eye and laughed. “Sloppy drunk? I'm in a suit... how is that sloppy?”
Frig pushed me onto the bed in my room and I was soon fast asleep.
The following morning Frig had made a visit to the Swift, now parked in hangar 8. After our request, it had been towed to the nearby hangar where it would remain out of sight. Frig's night was spent repairing minor damage from our pirate encounter. When I arrived in the late morning, he was asleep in the bunk room.
I shoved his shoulder. “Hey, buddy, wake up.”
Frig rolled over and immediately sat up. “Sir, you are back in your flight suit. Are we going somewhere?”
I put my hand up in a gesture for him to relax. “No, no, I just didn't have any other clothes in the room. Wasn't going to wear that monkey suit out here. We might want to take advantage of the goodwill we have built up and get a few sets of civvies to wear around town.”
I sat in a nearby chair. “I had a thought this morning as I was eating breakfast. This planet doesn't have much for natural resources on the surface, but it has to have something of value that can be mined. Our sensors here on the Swift are probably far more powerful than anything that has been used on this planet before. The admiral was generous with the equipment he installed, as most mining companies can't afford the technology we have.
“I'm thinking we do some deep scans of this place and maybe open up a mine or two. Lots of free land out there for the taking; all we have to do is register it. If I'm correct, and this place has ores worth recovering. We might be able to reverse our fortunes.”
Frig said, “Goats back to heroes, sir.”
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p; I nodded. “Yeah, Goats to heroes. It would also make for a great cover. No one would be looking for mining magnates. If we can locate some precious gems, we might even be able to afford to defend ourselves out here.”
Frig stood and stretched as he walked toward his console. “I can do a deep scan from here, sir. It won't be as high a resolution as if we fly overhead, but it may give us an idea of where we would want to search further. I will begin the process if you would like to go clothes shopping... sir.”
I knew Frig was just taking a dig at me for waking him up, but his remark had merit. I was soon wandering through the downtown area of Roswell.
A crowd slowly began to gather on the sidewalks as the citizens of Roswell began to look and point. I was then startled as a hand grabbed me on the shoulder. It was the mayor's aide.
“Captain, I would not advise walking out here alone, as you will get mobbed by well-wishers. Is there anything I can help you find?”
I told Riley Mumford my sizes and handed him a printout from Frig.
Riley replied, “Clothing will not be an issue, Mr. Bumbalee. We have your sizes from the suits made last evening.”
I said, “Can you find us something low-key, neutral in color, something the common Bullworti would wear? And, do you have any facial surgeons? I was thinking of getting this mug, as much as I love it, to match those doctored photos the governor has been handing out. I would like to maintain my anonymity while here. The galaxy out there is a sometimes nasty, dirty place, full of people who wish you ill.”
Riley smiled and replied, “I fully understand, Mr. Bumbalee. Many people who have come to live on Bullwort did so to escape that same hostile environment. We just wish to live in peace, a more simple existence without all the corruption and politics. If you are an officer of the government and you are caught lying or somehow cheating others, you will be quickly convicted, exiled, and placed on the next ship out of here. It happened only a handful of times before the message got out.”
I was beginning to like the Bullworties. They held to a philosophy that I found quite agreeable. The aide escorted me back to the Swift with the assurance that we would have “civvies” later in the day, and that he would inquire about facial surgeons. He was aware of only one, but would consult with the mayor and the governor's staff.
Once back at the hangar, I thanked Riley, smiled, and nodded. He quickly walked away. When I stepped up into the hold of the Swift, Frig was busy setting up his scans.
“I believe we are ready for our initial scan, sir. It took a bit longer than I expected, given the complexity of our sensors. There was much to learn. Tuning them was quite easy... once I had a full understanding of their controls. This one does—”
I stopped him mid-sentence. “I really don't need the full breakdown on how it works. That's why I made you a partner in this.”
I grinned. “Now, are we ready to take a peek at this planet or what?”
Frig turned back to his console. “I have tuned the sensors to detect emerald, sir. The computer will take approximately fifteen minutes to tell us if there are any emeralds of significant size located in this area. A deep scan of the entire planet will take several days. And the scans would be more effective from near orbit, sir.”
I scratched my head and sighed as I replied. “Yeah, I get you. But I don't think it's a good idea to be flying around a day after we saved the place. Might look a bit suspicious. I would just as soon take a little extra time and do what we can from here for a few weeks or so. We have the time to spend, so we might as well take advantage of that.”
Frig's console beeped as the computer began to develop 3-D maps from the sensor scans. The scan time passed quickly, and Frig switched programs to analyze the data.
“We have four hits in this region, sir. Three are approximately forty kilometers’ distance, with the fourth being seventy-two kilometers. The first three show a weighting of 40.7 carats combined, hardly worth an effort to extract. The fourth is... 1,800 carats, sir. a nice find. Unfortunately, that pocket is located at a depth of five kilometers.”
I rolled my eyes. “Great. Five kilometers might as well be fifty for what it would cost to extract them. Let's move on to the next stone and see what Lady Luck has in store for us.”
As Frig continued his work, I flipped on my console and began a game of Bollox. Ten minutes into a rumble with a dozen other simulated pirate ships, I shut the app down. It somehow seemed far less interesting after the exhilaration of fighting the real thing.
The remainder of the day was filled with boredom before Riley returned from his day's tasks. “Captain, I have had a number of sets of clothing in your sizes delivered to your room, all of them happily donated by the citizens of Roswell. I had a bit of a tough time keeping those gifts limited to neutral, ordinary clothing. You will find a mix of what you requested and a few more formal outfits. I hope they are to your liking.
“I also left the numbers of three surgeons who volunteered their services. Celebrity has its benefits! If you would like to make appointments, we can do that immediately. Or, if you prefer, I can just take you to see each of them whenever you desire.”
I scratched my chin as I thought about the concept of a new face. “What the heck, are they available to see me now? I've got free time at the moment.”
Riley responded with a nod. “Absolutely, Captain. I will arrange that, if you would like to change to some new clothes. I can meet you at your room in, say... fifteen minutes?”
I nodded and sent Riley on his way.
As I walked toward the hotel, I took a moment to think about what a marvel translation interfaces were. Every being of every civilized species had the implant installed at birth. The tiny biocomputer would download interpreter files, including dialects, from any number of stations on every inhabited planet I had ever visited.
I was convinced it was responsible for so many species getting along as well as they did. There were still plenty of problems, as with a “common” language, came “common” problems. But they were problems we could work together to solve.
After dressing in a new set of duds, I waited only a few minutes for Riley's knock. Twenty minutes later we walked into the office of the first surgeon. He was considered by many on Bullwort to be the most skilled in his practice. An hour later I was scheduled for facial reconfiguration surgery for the following day. I was going to be a new me.
When I returned to the Swift, I found that both diamond and ruby scans had failed to locate significant deposits. We continued through a list of the most popular gemstones before Riley showed up again at the Swift. We had been invited to another dinner celebration. As heroes of the Bullworties, we were hardly in a position to refuse. I reasoned that at some point in the future, we would have to borrow the credits needed for a mining operation. Keeping up a positive image was high on my list of required tasks.
After a second welcoming dinner, and a good night's rest, the facial surgery was performed. The doctor seemed pleased with the results, results that I would not see for several weeks. I departed his office with a recovery mask bonded to the fringes of my old face. I faced a week of eating through a straw, as movement of my jaw had been restricted.
Back on the Swift, Frig worked his way through a list of precious and semiprecious gemstones. Those found to have mineable deposits were azurite, morganite, quartz, and tourmaline. None would make us wealthy, but they would give us purpose and a viable cover should off-worlders come snooping around. We planned visits to the promising sites and soon after had registered claims in hand.
After several weeks out of the public eye, I returned to the doctor to have the surgical recovery mask removed. When he peeled it back, I stood staring at the stranger in the mirror for several minutes. As I made facial expressions, I had the sensation of being outside of my own body as the strange face moved along with me.
The doctor said, “Mr. Bumbalee, what you are feeling is common with this type of surgery. It went remarkably well, considering the
equipment I have on this planet. While the old you was not an unsightly man, I believe the ladies will not be unhappy with the new you. Your chin and cheekbones have a slightly more striking appearance and your jaw line is a bit firmer. Your eyes were slightly narrow before. They’ve been widened a bit, yielding a more pleasing balance to your face. It will take your vision a few weeks to fully correct for the change.”
I stood admiring my new face, turning from side to side. “Doc, this is impressive. It will take a bit of getting used to. But I’m sure it will grow on me.”
I continued to stare into the mirror at the handsome stranger. “You mentioned the equipment here. I take it you had an office elsewhere?”
The doctor looked away at his table for a moment. “I had a very lucrative business back on Orcon-3. Celebrities stood in line for my work. I could name my own price and that price would be paid. That all came to an end when the daughter of a wealthy shipping magnate came in with some strange requests: she wanted her cheekbones to be pointed and her nose long and thin, extraordinarily so.
“There were several other bizarre features that she desired as well. I counseled her against it. Did everything I could to dissuade her, but she insisted. Long story short, she was doing it all for a man, a vile man who had no interest in her. He had convinced her that if she got the changes he suggested, he would stay with her forever. There's no easier mark than one whose heart is controlled by someone else.
“He insisted on having her mask removed in front of him and several of his friends. It only took a couple minutes for the uncontrollable laughter of her supposed suitor to sink in. When she looked in the mirror and realized she had been made a fool of, she turned and ran out onto the balcony of his apartment, throwing herself over the rail. It was forty-eight stories to the ground below.”
The doctor sat down in a chair, looking out the window of his office as he continued. “I was shocked, shocked that she had jumped, shocked that the vile person standing before me continued to laugh uncontrollably. A disgusting, heartless Orconian, that one. Her father saw to it that he got his just reward. He then came after me.
“My brother and his wife were business partners in the practice. They each took a blaster to the face. I managed to escape and then disappeared. I've been here for fifteen years, and I've never stopped looking over my shoulder, even after drastically altering my own appearance.”
I tugged a few times on my chin before turning toward the doctor. “I feel your pain. My business partner, Mr. Chester, and I got involved in some really unbelievable activities. If I told you, you would think me a liar. Well, even though we made the right decisions, decisions that have likely altered the course of my species in a good way, there were those who disagreed.
“People in powerful places decided we were a problem. So, here we are, Doc, just looking to survive, like you.”
The doctor continued to look out the window, deep in thought about his own past.
I said, “I hope you will be discreet with that bit of info, Doc. The people who have it out for me won’t care much about collateral damage. I would hate to bring wrong upon any of the people here.”
The doctor looked up at me and nodded. “You don't have to worry about me, son. Your business is your business. I only ask the same from you in return. What you did for this planet was more than enough to buy my silence. If I haven't said it enough times already... thank you again for your help.”
I left the doctor’s office with a smile on my new face. I caught the gaze of several of the young local Bullworti women as I walked. My broad shoulders and solid frame now had a face to go with them. I had to check myself when I realized my walk was turning into a strut. I may have had a handsome new face, but my heart was still back on the Grid.