TheTraveler - book 1 Read online

  Book one

  The traveler, and the lost colony from Earth

  77 Points of interest

  Page

  1 a new beginning 93 ancestral ground

  3 the drink drunk 94 meet the mayor

  5 Station security 101 much to do

  6 story buyers of generosity 115 Kitty cooks

  7 metal mountain 117 lunch with the mayor

  9 what's in a name 121 time to reflect

  12 the sanitation police 123 what's up Doc?

  13 nude shopping 125 the party and a power revealed

  14 back to the drink drunk 128 the day after

  17 the old riddle 138 paper day

  15 blue goo 144 crystal clear,& plans

  21 the mess 148 doc gets a house

  25 the device 158 night talk

  29 a visit to med lab 159 drilled up, & pancakes

  31 new gloves 161 morning treasure in the sand

  32 too many drugs 164 practice makes juice

  40 one hole then another 170 no light flight

  42 new arms for Owsee 174 trader Sam

  44 Nibor gets a new suit 178 the upper room

  46 a trip to the ice mines 181 Kitty’s return

  49 swimming pool 188 lasagna?

  52 back to the drink drunk, again 190 table upgrade

  55 blue goo two 194 cave shrooms

  60 backdoor 201 it was just a nap

  66 goodbye tech guy 205 up before Kitty

  66 the offer 207 preparations & a new plan

  76 as the station dies 212 a rebels mission

  79 a rude goodbye 214 is there anybody out there?

  80 star gate bound 214 meet the Ranger

  82 401-1=406 222 meet Kilroy

  84 a stop on the way 226 the freedom ship stands ready

  86 last stop before home 227 the Ranger and the RATS

  87 Hyperspace tripping 229 Mr. Gripper

  91 dawn on a new world 232 the freedom ship’s at station E2

  236 E1 & mercenary fun 237 gray play

  238 trade for a liven ship 241 fish fry & smoke

  243 not just another day 248 a gift

  251 joy ride

  Days start on pages 1, 12, 91, 101, 115, 128, 138, 159, 205, 338, 243. 11 days.

  The traveler, book 1 back cover read.

  A traveler, that is both a poet and writer, has worked his way towards the center of our galaxy; from planet to planet and ship to ship, for about 30 years. Then he meets someone that promises great wealth; if he will go back with him to his planet, to teach it to read and write. His fortunes have changed as our traveler gets everything he ever wanted, and more responsibility than he needed. Our hero must protect the rights of the individuals; while saving his part of the galaxy from invasions, his world from attack, his new family from harm, his friends from danger, and himself from the numerous attempts on his life! All while writing down what happens to him each day, so he can sell it to the people on this planet that treasure stories as the highest form of barter; which gives new meaning to the phrase, "I'll buy that." The traveler starts with his first book of chronicles, with the 11 days from when he first meets the story collector. A chapter of his life begins as we read what he writes, and he writes as we read. Dramatic and full of action, our character will take you where you have never been, and you’ll want to be one of the characters that will put an ache in your side from laughing at the things they say.

  If you can't imagine where else you rather be, then let this book do it for you.

  R. Miller 8/4/09 –posted

  BOOK ONE

  “The Traveler,”

  and the lost colony from Earth

  By R Miller

  Day One, Chapter 1

  Entering the gravitational field, of this third moon of a planet whose name I did not know, I dropped my solar sails as I looked for the spaceport I was told was here. Being low on maneuvering gases, and still no communications, I hoped I would spot the spaceport before the need to abort my mid-orbit.

  Without more air, food and water I would not last another week and would have to call for rescue. I had not expected my trip to of taken so long, or that I would have trouble calling the base.

  After falling toward the moon for near to seven hours I spotted the base. The low gravity made for an easy landing, and the partial atmosphere was good enough that I did not need to worry about my docking fittings being compatible.

  Now comes the fun part; negotiating with the locals without a translation box. I was near the center of the galaxy out here, not too many humans had been so far.

  It had only been three weeks ago that I had to trade all that I had for this old solar sail ship; and enough food, water and air to get this far. I

  could've taken another job with the corporate mining company; but I wanted to move on, and they didn’t have anything in the direction I wanted to go. I had heard there was work on this moon and thought I would give it a shot, or barter my skills as a pilot for a ride father on.

  Besides, spending some time alone sounded like a good idea at the time. But I didn't think it would take me three weeks to get here.

  As I left my ship -- this nonthreatening looking fellow, unless you count his four arms with claws instead of fingers, greeted me. He was only about five feet tall and wearing a silver cloak from head to toe, with a small black box hanging from a chain around his neck.

  He said to me, "Owpa.”

  I put my fingers to my lips, then to my ears and said, "No translator.”

  He then tapped the box, hanging from the chain around his neck, and it turned yellow. Then he put one claw to his mouth and then to his head, and extended it to me. I took this as urging me to speak.

  I said, "I am human, from Earth, and I speak English.”

  The box translated it to his language and he said, "Owpa.” The box translated it as, "Greetings.”

  I replied, "Greetings.” The box translated it as he, or it, stretched out all four claws to his side, started to click them very fast, and screamed something the box translated as, "We communicate!”

  Lucky for me, as for moment I thought I had pissed him off.

  Then he said, through the translation box, "I am guide, negotiator, trader in goods, services and stories.”

  "Stories?” I said.

  "Yes, stories,” he said, "When I have enough I will go back to my home planet a rich man. My race regards stories more valuable than anything else. But let us talk about you. Your ship is small. You come from the first moon?"

  I said, "No, I come from the fourth planet in the system.”

  "The fourth planet,” he said, "that's a long way in such a small ship. You need supplies I think .”

  I said, "Yes, oxygen and hydrogen -- gas not liquid, water and food; if I use this ship to go anywhere else.”

  He said, "You need more than that, I think. From here you are going nowhere in such a small ship, but back where you came from. And that is only if you get a tow. The solar winds only blow one way me thinks.”

  I said, "So what you're saying is that I'm pretty much done with this ship.”

  He said, "I might be able to sell your ship, get you transport to another system. Do you have any data crystals with stories on them you want to sell me?”

  I said, "I'm sorry but I didn't bring any with me, but I remember a few stories if you would like to hear them.”

  "You are a storyteller?” He said, "I have never met a true storyteller outside of my home planet. Everyone here has facts, figures, places and dates, but none of them can tell a story -- it's just not in their nature.”

  I said, "Oh, well you obviously never met an earthling before. We tell stories all the time, we even write them down and sell them to each ot
her.”

  He said, "Writers, you are from a race of writers of stories?”

  I said, "Yes, we write stories.”

  He said, "And you can do this?”

  I said, "Yes, don’t your people write your stories?”

  He said, "No, we have learned of the concept of writing, from other races, but thought it was only for facts and figures. I have never met a race that could write a story.”

  I said, "Well I don't know about teaching you to write stories, but for a good meal and a couple of stiff drinks, I'll tell you some stories if you like.”

  He said, "Yes, of course, I'll pay for your stories. But I only have water at my place. Alcohol and all other mood changing drugs are forbidding, everywhere on the station but at the Drink Drunk place. You are not to do drugs or be under the influence anywhere else. I will give you 100 credits for the promise of a story later.”

  I said, "Okay, that's a deal. I'll go to this Drink Drunk place and be back in a few hours to tell you some stories.”

  After giving me a credit chip, he told me to follow the main corridor toward the sound of music.

  As I walked inside the station I could hear some noise, not far off, that may pass for music in a place like this. I saw two rather large things, in what may pass for uniforms, dragging someone, or thing, away. I thought to myself, "This must be the Place!”

  I was standing in front of the hatch, trying to figure out how to open it, when an orange skinned little man kicked a white ball of fur, the size of a cat, out the door yelling, "Baba fuja!”

  I figured that meant stay out. I slipped past him, and looked for a safe place to sit down. The door closed behind me was a whoosh. The little orange fellow reached up to tug on my sleeve, and pointed to a large tree root at this end of the bar; at least I think it was a tree root.

  The fellow said, "Baba, Baba,” as he urged me to sit there.

  It moved a bit at first; I was not quite sure if it was trying to make me more comfortable, or it.

  The little fellow climbed over the next, well -- thing, which was sitting just a few feet away from me, and jumped behind the bar. He slapped the edge of the bar and a yellow light came on; I figured that to be a translator.

  He said, "Baba fodo," as he waved his hand over the yellow light. So I said, "human, earthling, English.”

  It started to blink on and off, so he hit the light until it stopped blinking. He then waved his hand over it again, as to indicate I should try once more. So I spoke to it again and this time it was working.

  "Sorry for the delay," he said, "These translators are sometimes temperamental. What will you have?"

  I said, "I'm not sure, I've never been to this part of the galaxy before. I don't want to poison myself, at least not too much. The last place I was at had a drink called cartarering ale."

  He said, "I don't have cartareing ale, but I do have something like it called Go Joe juice. If you don't like it there will be no charge."

  As he went for the bottle and started to pour it, the alien next to me said, through a translator, "I know what humans drink, their mother’s milk."

  There was some laughter from a number of the others, but the bar keeper said, "Be careful Junka. This one is from Earth, a heavy gravity planet. He could rip your arm off if you insult him."

  This made Junka sit up straight, and move a few inches away from me.

  "It's all right," I said to Junka, "I'll even share a riddle with you. How do you keep a stupid alien in suspense?"

  He said, "I don't know, how?"

  I said, "I'll tell you tomorrow."

  Junka said, "okay, you will tell me tomorrow."

  As soon as the translation went through, a bunch of aliens started laughing. I took the glass of Go Joe juice and started to sip it at the joke sank into Junka’s head.

  "Wait a minute, "Junka said, "I get it, stupid alien in suspense."

  For the next three hours or so we drank and told jokes. The Go Joe juice was cheap but had a good punch to it.

  Then the bar keeper, whose name was totally unpronounceable, gave me a slap on translator patch before I left. He said it only had power for about an hour, so not to use it unless in great need.

  I was planning to go down the hall to a shop that I was told sold translators for only 20 credits. But I thanked him anyway and put it in my pocket; little did I know how soon I would need it.

  I left the Drink Drunk bar, and was walked past the security guards to get myself a mid-Galactic translator, when they grabbed me by my arm. Saying something, I could not understand, they started to walk or drag me toward the landing docks. I didn't know what was going on, so I reached in my pocket and pulled out the translator patch.

  Slapping it on the back of my hand, I said, "Where are you taking me, what have I done?"

  The translation came back clear and simple, "Station security cannot be responsible for your actions, or your security, while you are drunk or under the influence of drugs. You're being taken to your ship. Please stay there until the drugs or alcohol has worn off."

  I didn't want to piss these guys off, so I didn't ask any, what-if questions. I just smiled and said, "Thank you for your courtesy."

  When we got near my ship they let me go. As I walked towards it one of the guards turned and said, "better change your clothes before the sanitation police get to you."

  Sanitation police? What, did I stink or something? I had been in the bar for about three hours, sitting on God-knows-what. Oh well, that would have to wait until I could get to a shop; and that would have to wait until I was no longer drunk.

  Right now I was looking forward to that good meal I had been promised. But how to find the story collector without leaving the docking area? I did not want to piss-off the Station security.

  I remembered what the bar keeper said, only about an hour of power to the slap-on. So I figured I had better ask around the docks a bit before my slap on ran down. I found someone loading cargo onto a ship, and asked if he knew how I could find the dock negotiator.

  He slapped a badge on his shoulder, said something and something came back, then he said, "he will meet you at your ship in a little while."

  I said thank you, and went back to my ship, feeling glad I got my message out before my slapper when dead.

  It always feels strange when I go someplace new. You never know what the limits are, or how safe you were going to be.

  It was not long before the story buyer showed up with a friend. A tall, sort of translucent looking thing with hundreds of legs; sort of an eleven-foot Caterpillar. He took one look at my ship and said, "you came from the fourth planet in that?"

  I said yes, and he said, "Hum, humans are braver than I thought." And with that, he left.

  The story buyer said to me, "You got a slapper."

  I said, "yeah, but it's almost out of power."

  He said, "No problem, this methinks you need."

  He reached into a bag on his side and pulled out a silver amulet, with a crystal circle in the center, on a gold chain. Giving it to me he said, "This is too fancy for me to wear while I work. You can wear it for the time you are here."

  I put it on and thank him. He then asked if I was ready to eat. I said yes, and we started to walk to his place. I told him I hoped it was not too far, as the sobriety guards had brought me to my ship less than an hour ago. He said his ship was at the end of the docks, and reminded me that he said drinking and being drunk was allowed only in one place on the Station.

  We passed ship after ship as we got closer to the mountain at the end of the dock; that seemed to have some kind of control tower at the top of it. The last ship didn’t seem to be very big for someone that was the main negotiator on the docks, but then we passed it as well. So I asked where his ship was and he raised his hands, or clause as it were, out in front of him and said, "This is it!"

  We came to a door in the mountain, when it hit me, the mountain was metal. The whole mountain was his ship, and it was bigger than half of the docks
or most of the Station. I no longer had any questions in my head about how rich this guy really was. With a ship like this, he probably owned most of the Station.