Starlight: Galactic Trader

By Al Philipson

Seriously wounded, Richard ran from his pursuer and managed to make it to the local spaceport. The only shuttle there belonged to the giant trader, Starlight, and he had information they needed.

Aboard, he was hustled into their hospital where the doctor saved his life.

Things were looking good. He thought he was finally safe.

But life, no matter where you are, is not always safe, especially if your assailants have not given up on killing you — and there are bad people even in a fine community like Starlight’s.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Al Philipson
• Release date: May 20, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005332815

Al Philipson

Al Philipson was born somewhere around 1995 or later in the fevered imagination of a nerdish geek and sometimes technical writer who wants to remain anonymous when he writes fiction (including his tax return). Being a private person, he was afraid that his adoring fans (all three of them) would mob him both publicly and privately once his books caught on. Unlike his nerdy creator, Philipson suffers from none of the weaknesses of "ordinary" humans. His body puts Mr. Universe to shame. He can bench press a Kenworth, he's more intelligent than Einstein, and knock-down-gorgeous women find him irresistible.

Book preview

Books by Al Philipson

SciFi Four Pack: Four Science Fiction Short Stories

Starlight - Galactic Trader

Holy Christian Empire series:

Last Train from Earth –2206

Chandler’s Secret Princess – 2405

Reluctant Marine - 2495

God’s Assassin –2608

Starlight - Galactic Trader

Al Philipson

A Faster Than Light Book

A FTL eBook

Published by Faster Than Light Publishing

Copyright 2022 by Al Philipson

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. Published in the United States by FTL Publishing, an imprint of Faster Than Light Publishing, Washington.

You are granted a non-exclusive license to this work. You may make copies or reformat it for YOUR OWN USE ONLY. You may not resell, trade, nor give this work away.

If you have obtained this as an ebook from a torrent site, it is STOLEN MERCHANDISE (and they’ve probably stolen your identity).

Created in the United States of America

First Publication: 2022

Cover art by: innovari (Luca Oleastri)

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters are a product of the imagination of the author and any resemblance to any real person, either living or dead, is purely coincidental.

The name FTL Publishing, Faster Than Light Press, and the FTL logo are trademarks belonging to Faster Than Light Publishing

Dedication

To Mike and Pastor Marc,

who helped me when I needed it most.

Chapter 1

Richard stumbled over a bucket that someone had left in the alley.

It saved his life.

Bricks erupted from the wall next to him. The shot was aimed where his head had been.

He redoubled his speed, running as fast as he could and occasionally dodging left or right in a random pattern.

Another shot missed, but not by much.

He rounded the end of the alley and sprinted as fast as he could down the walkway.

Some idiot had parked his skimmer off the parking strip and onto the walkway, but he managed to dodge around it without breaking stride. Probably some drunk out for an evening of swilling booze, he guessed.

Where can I be safe, he thought to himself. His apartment was no good. They knew where he lived.

A cargo shuttle passed overhead, headed for the spaceport. Starport was the only city on Atlantis with a landing field that would accommodate traders’ large cargo shuttles.

Maybe the Trader will take me in if I can warn them in time. It was the only thing he could think of in a hurry.

He cut across the flyway strip to the walkway on the other side and headed for the port, but as he turned, another shot scored and took a chunk out of his side. He almost fell, but managed to stay on his feet. Pain erupted down the right side of his upper body.

Blood poured down his side and onto his pants. He placed a hand over it, eliciting another stab of pain, and pressed hard in an attempt to stem the flow. His hand almost fit inside the wound. It was bad and it hurt almost more than he could stand. His head swam, but he stumbled on until he regained his balance.

Just as he passed a theater, a crowd of people erupted from the doors and started milling around, some just talking about the show, others trying to remember where they’d parked their skimmer.

He ducked low to hide himself behind the crowd and turned down another alley. It was out of his way, but it might throw the gunman off long enough for him to make his dash for the landing field. His six-foot, one-inch frame usually stood him above others, but bent over, he hoped to nullify that problem. He hoped the feet of the theatergoers would scuff away the blood trail he was leaving.

He managed to exit the alley before the gunman picked up his trail.

He turned left and paralleled his route to the field, which was now five blocks away.

He was forced to slow down to a lope. His lungs screamed for air and the intense pain and blood loss were taking their toll. But he kept on going, using what energy he had left. If only I can make it before I bleed to death!

Every once in a while, he’d glance behind, but he saw no sign of his pursuer. His head was starting to spin again.

At long last, he made a left turn to take him to the gate to the field itself. He hoped to bypass the passenger terminal and go straight to the shuttle. He was getting very weak. Fear of dying assailed his mind. The gate was just ahead.

But there was a guard at the gate.

He turned so that his wound was away from the man.

I’m sorry, Sir, but you’ll have to check in at the terminal.

Richard’s heart fell. He’d never make it to the terminal in his condition. His bloody side would hardly go unnoticed even if he did.

Just then, a man in a military uniform and sergeant stripes on his sleeve came up behind the guard and tapped him on the shoulder.

The guard turned.

It’s all right, Sir. He’s one of our crew.

Not giving the guard a chance to react, the sergeant grabbed Richard by his left arm and hustled him through the gate. Come along now, Dick. The lieutenant is really pissed. Your leave was up an hour ago.

With that, he frog-marched him, actually almost carrying him, out to the shuttle, which stood in a pool of its own light. He didn’t give the guard a chance to realize the trader’s shuttle hadn’t been there long enough for anyone to have taken leave, let alone be late by an hour.

What? How did you know my name? Richard was confused. I came here to warn you that Startport Imports isn’t going to pay you for your cargo. They plan to grab it as soon as it’s unloaded and then try to take your shuttle.

The sergeant kept them moving. "Well, thank you for the warning, Dick. We appreciate it. We’ll take care of the problem.

Now, it looks like you need a place to hide and some first aid.

They arrived at the shuttle’s ramp that led up to the crew section. Richard’s head was spinning and his legs were getting even weaker.

It was a huge vessel. It carried six super containers in its, now opened, belly, one of which had been lowered to the tarmac between the landing struts. The crew/pilot area was just forward of the container section. Several stevedores were operating the container mechanism and three uniformed soldiers stood guard around the shuttle, carrying power rifles of some sort. They looked very competent.

The sergeant hustled him to the top of the ramp, supporting him all the way, and into an airlock. When the outer hatch closed, Richard heard a hum and some strange lights played over the two of them.

Then the inner lock opened and a fellow, who was obviously Oriental, met them. The man, who was dressed as a civilian, looked at him, and Richard felt like he was looking into his soul.

Then, before he could react, the fellow smiled, turned away, and walked towards the rear of the spacious cabin, which had seating for a lot of people.

Almost immediately, a middle-aged lady with wings above her uniform’s jacket pocket took charge of Richard and hustled him away. Welcome to my shuttle. We have to stop your bleeding long enough to get you to the ship’s hospital, young fellow. You’re making a mess on my deck. She smiled at her own witticism.

Richard looked around and the sergeant had already left the cabin.

He barely heard someone outside yelling. What’s the matter with you guys? Can’t you read barcode? This is the wrong cargo for this stop. Now get that container reloaded. We have to boost back to the ship and bring down the right shuttle. What a mess-up!

Richard could imagine the fellow pulling out his hair.

Hello, Dick. I’m Lieutenant Nancy Holland. You can call me Nancy. The lady helped him out of his damaged shirt, laid him on a bunk against the hull, and grabbed a white box with a red cross on it from an overhead locker. She used the contents to wipe away as much blood as she could, given the heavy flow, sprayed something on the wound that finally stopped the bleeding, and slapped a dressing on it to complete the process. She was very efficient.

You forgot to sterilize it. Richard was apologetic.

No need. She started cleaning up blood on the bunk. "You were completely sterilized when you came through the airlock. Even your insides. We can’t have germs or viruses going to or from one planet to another. You’ll retain your immunities and you’ll get a pill on Starlight to replant your system with the biologics your body needs to function. In any case, the foam I used contains a local sterilizer."

You’re taking me aboard? Richard was amazed. It was the best solution to his current problem. Starlight was the trader ship he had hoped to reach.

The shuttle shuddered with a clang. The container was probably now in place.

Of course. You’ve more than earned passage with your warning. You saved us a large fortune. Now, lie back and relax. Your body has been through a trauma and you need your rest. The crew will handle everything.

With that, she closed the med kit, stowed it, and went forward to the bridge. On the way, she told a crewman to swab the deck while the blood was still fresh.

Richard was very confused.

It was almost as if they knew he was coming. The sergeant at the gate to make sure he got through. The officer ready to take care of his wounds, and no questions about his warning. They just took it at face value and reloaded the cargo.

And who was the mysterious Oriental who seemed to look into his soul?

And what’s with everyone knowing my nickname? he thought.

He finally relaxed and was starting to nod off when the hatch opened and the stevedores rushed in, followed by the guy who’d done all the yelling. They were chatting amiably with each other as if the supervisor hadn’t been yelling at them just a few minutes ago.

The hatch cycled again and the three armed guards walked in, followed by the sergeant who’d rescued him.

The sergeant pushed two buttons and one of two red lights turned green almost immediately. After five seconds, the other one turned green. The sergeant keyed a comm box of some sort. Ramp stowed. Hatch dogged. Everyone aboard.

He released the key and walked over to Richard. Hold on Dick. We’ll get you to a doctor in short order. Then he helped Richard into his shirt and joined his team in the seats that ran down the center of the cabin.

No one belted in. Some just stood around.

He was wondering when they were going to take off when he glanced out the large pressure window next to him.

The view only showed clouds that were flying past in the moonlight.

He had no feeling of motion. The shuttle must have artificial gravity.

It didn’t take long for the darkness to become absolute. They must have exited the planet’s atmosphere. Stars shone brightly with no flickering.

He wondered what the mother ship looked like.

Then he saw it in the distance. The pilot must be using a matching course rather than heading straight for the ship, so it was visible from Richard’s side of the shuttle.

It looked like a cylinder with curved, blunt ends. It wasn’t pretty, like in the vids, and certainly not aerodynamic. But in space, there was no wind resistance, so it probably didn’t matter. The passenger liner he’d taken to get to Atlantis had looked more like the vid ships. Probably to appeal to the space-going public.

Even at this distance it looked fairly large.

Then they got closer.

The ship grew and grew until his jaw dropped in amazement.

It must be almost 2 kilometers long and half as wide!!!

They approached what looked like a small, lighted opening in a side of the tube, near the aft portion. It grew until it looked huge.

Richard noticed that he was feeling lighter. Maybe the artificial gravity was being reduced.

They finally sidled up to the opening and floated inside.

The opening closed, cutting off the view of the stars, and the hull seemed to rotate as the shuttle pilot found the only empty cradle, and settled onto it without a jar.

There was a bulkhead next to the crew area and something clanged against the hull, just outside the hatch. A red light changed to green over the top of the hatch.

The sergeant got up and pushed one of the two buttons. The red light above that button came back on. Then he opened the hatch. There was a short tunnel attached to the hatch with another hatch at the other end.

Another crewman walked to the second hatch and opened it while the sergeant collected Richard. Come along, hero. I’ll help you through the hatch.

Richard didn’t feel much like a hero. When he stood up, he almost fainted. He was very weak and the adrenalin that had carried him down the streets and to the shuttle was now gone. The sergeant almost had to carry him, which he did with no seeming effort.

They were the first ones off and made it through the umbilical and into a spotlessly clean corridor. A pretty woman in a nurse’s uniform waited with a hospital float chair.

Just then, he felt a mild twist in his gut. The ship must have shifted into FTL.

The sergeant guided him to the chair and helped him settle in. He’s all yours, Jackie.

Thanks, Bill. She took two steps to get behind him and grabbed the handles for the chair. Hello, Dick. Let’s get you fixed up.

She guided the chair down a short hall to an elevator and pushed a button. Ten seconds later, the light over the door came on accompanied by a short ding.

When the door opened, she pushed him inside and pushed a button. The ship is designed in rings, cylinders, if you will. The outer ring is near the hull. We just left it. We’re headed for level Twenty-two where the hospital is.

The elevator didn’t seem to be moving. It probably had gravity of its own. But the dial moved from 1 to 22 and the doors opened onto a waiting room that was mostly white and spotless like the elevator and the corridor near the docking bay. Richard had no idea which way was toward the hull and which toward the center. But the deck was down, so he had no disorientation problems.

Is the hull ‘up’ or ‘down’?

Jackie giggled. That gets a lot of people when they first come aboard. The hull is ‘down’ as far as artificial gravity is concerned. Especially if you use stairs or a ladder.

She pushed him through a hatch. The chair cleared the combing with room to spare. Then past the desk and through a pair of doors that slid aside as they approached, down a short hallway, and through another pair of doors into an operating theater which looked as complete as any planet-based facility — and maybe cleaner, if that was possible.

A woman, dressed in blue scrubs, waited for them. Another woman, also in scrubs, stood beside the only piece of furniture in the room: an operating table.

Hello, I’m Doctor Achterman. She gestured to the woman next to the table. This is Doctor Roberts, our anesthesiologist. The lady nodded.

It didn’t take long for Jackie to get him up, out of his shirt again, and his remaining clothes. He felt strange being undressed in front of three