Untold Stories of a Galaxy - Kysaek: The Beginning
Sector Seven - 1

“On the go again, Doctor?” asked Kysaek as she stepped out onto the balcony of her new accommodation and stretched. It was morning, at least by standard time.

Re’Lis was packing one of her medical cases. She was in high demand as doctors were a real rarity in the area and she was adept at treating multiple species, which made her even rarer. “Yes Nora, I have to go to Capocapo in a minute,” she said. Capocapo was one of many outskirts of Capon, a village like the one Re’Lis and the rest had lived in for some time. “It will probably take me all day. If there’s anything, contact me.”

“Will do,” Kysaek replied in farewell before lighting a cigarette and looking over her village, which was called Capona. This and the name from before, made her smile. Creative place names they weren’t exactly, and sometimes confusing. Capona hadn’t even existed until five months ago, but by now Kysaek knew some stories of the people.

Already during the war, the lower regions had been declared refugee areas and this status still remained. It was one of the reasons why the existing infrastructures were simply no longer sufficient and such settlements sprang up out of nowhere. However, the resources were very much exhausted and so Capona consisted of only a few, normal buildings, while the rest of the houses were built from the recycling of the scrap metal that was abundant in the sector. This did not make the area fundamentally ugly or run-down, however, and produced highly creative properties in places, including Kysaek’s. Half a house by normal standards, fused with the belly section of a container ship. She had to pay a lot for it when she arrived here, but in return it was one of the better dwellings.

Others, however, were not so lucky or had enough means to afford a good house and got little or no help, which is why, despite the most modern technology, they were only able to convert the scrap into cheap corrugated iron huts as if they were still in the time before space travel.

“Nora?” called Thais through the house.

“Yes?“, Kysaek echoed back.

“I’m going to the merchant on the north road now to take his package to Capon.”

“Then I’ll see you later, after I’ve taken care of the greengrocer.”

“See you later,” Thais was the last to say goodbye in the house, as Dios and Kuren were already long gone, pursuing the group’s new task. A courier service, or as it sounded more serious, a shipping company.

Kysaek could hardly believe how well her idea was going and she reluctantly left the abundant work to Thais, Dios and Kuren alone. But today it had to be, as Kysaek had an important and not cheap meeting at the market. She finished her smoke before getting ready, carrying most of the group’s assets with her as she walked through the busy streets.

Many were on their feet, but that was always the case. With no real sun and a constant dawning darkness overhead, there were no real days and nights in Sector Seven and everyone had their own rhythm. Work, however, did not necessarily mean that, as a good half lived from bartering and there was too much competition.

So beggars were not a rare sight for Kysaek and she knew that people simply had no choice but to hope for the gifts of others. There were equally few of the rationing stations that had been praised on arrival in the area. One group of four homeless people in particular, a Palan, a Davoc, a Galig and a human, Kysaek had seen more often in the last few days, as she did again now.

They were all huddled together on a blanket, dishevelled and dirty, with only a sign in front of them. One sentence in several species languages was written repeatedly on it, at least that’s what Kysaek thought from the rest of thescribblesand read in her own language -’We’ve been stripped of everything, repeatedly, and all we want is a roof over our heads and food. Please help us.

Kysaek felt sorry for her, but Thais had warned her to be on her guard, as there were enough desperados and scammers, and they were even the better kind of criminals. Crime had always been rampant in the lower regions, but thanks to the never-ending growth of new residents, the underworld had finally taken over the reins in all sectors decades ago, although the authorities were still officially in charge. However, Kysaek had not yet encountered any real criminals in Capona, and she only knew some of the rumours, reports and stories that were happening in this respect all over Sector Seven. Perhaps the village was the lucky exception.

Capona was certainly a place that offered a lot and the market was no exception if you knew where to look. Kysaek had managed that since her arrival, when she met the Hishek greengrocer Prax, and it struck her as odd that a member of that sharp-toothed species in particular did not offer meat as a commodity.

“Nora! There you are!” greeted Prax, raising his neck in the air. He was quite small in stature, for one of his kind.... “Back to buy Capona’s best vegetables?”

“But only the very best,” Kysaek replied. The exchange of theBest was only a farce to foreign eyes and ears, a Code Phrase. “What do you have on offer?”

“Oh, oh, you’ll love this,” Prax asserted, selecting acrate. “Freshly delivered from the neighbouring district, Agua.”

Agua was a dark blue salad crop and this one looked very good, crisp and fresh, but Kysaek didn’t think that was good enough. “Is this really the best or are we back to the point where the really good stuff is hidden away until the richer customers come?”

“Ha, nasty talk!” murmured Prax. He didn’t like the assertion. “I treat all customers the same!” He showed his teeth more clearly and as if on order, his two henchmen joined him. Like Prax, they were also Hishek, but they clearly towered over him and appeared grimmer.

It was no deterrent to Kysaek, however. “In that case, after all, you’ll have no problem convincing me otherwise and showing me the goods on your truck.”

The demand was reason enough for the henchmen to step forward, but Prax held them back. “If I didn’t know you had some foreign currency in your pocket, I’d bite your head off.”

“So richer customers do get preferential treatment,” Kysaek grinned before Prax led her to a small truck, a ground vehicle.

It was quiet at the back of it. “Rich people always get better treatment, a law of the universe,” Prax intoned, away from the hubbub. The lizard’s farce was half fulfilled. “Anyone who believes otherwise and complains is living in the wrong galaxy.”

“Mostly true,” Kysaek nodded, watching the second henchman stand lookout while the merchant picked out new crates of agua vegetables for them under cover of the truck walls. “But I’m not that rich either, and in Sector Seven I guess everyone is considered wealthy if they don’t go hungry in the evening.”

Instead of his short hands, Prax used his powerful runners to heave the boxes forward one by one. “Matter of opinion, but it’s true. They’re not that rich either.”

“Maybe that will change soon,” Kysaek commented after she had one of the crates in front of her and a fresh, spicy scent was wafting towards her. The goods were clearly superior to those from the market stall and more deadly. “Used?” asked Kysaek pushing away the vegetable leaves and exposing a glistening magnetic pistol barrel, wetted by the water of the Agua.

“Just as we agreed. The good weapons are unfortunately snatched up by the big gangs and criminal clans and syndicates,” Prax grumbled. You couldn’t tell the Magnet weapons were second-hand, not many of which were intended for direct use anyway.

Kysaek and her people only wanted part of the small arsenal of pistols, shotguns, assault and combat rifles. “What’s that?” she asked in wonder. One of the rifles had a shape which she did not know. The frame was made of plastic and you had to put something in the bottom.

“Never seen that before, have you? I got two dozen of these for free. It’s called an M16, a weapon from the early space age of humans.”

“Ancient firearms? Are you serious?”

Prax was a trader, through and through. “Old yes, but free for that.”

“But what good does that do us?” retorted Kysaek, disgruntled. She had made a deal with Prax to pay for the cartload of weapons and receive most of the profit from the sale. In return, Prax had to organise and sell the weapons for her, with no risk of his own on the pre-purchase, and he got a share of the earnings, although of course that would only be a fraction of Kysaek’s income. “Who buys these things?”

“Why wouldn’t anyone buy it?”

“Because with these weapons you could hardly kill a Hishek,” Kysaek opined. It was not because Prax and his men were lizards themselves, but she knew here. “Even if they dont have shields and armour, the bullet wouldn’t get through his leathery skin and certainly not through the iron parts. At best there would be scratches and I bet if you hit them with that, the gun would break.”

This was not an argument against the old guns for Prax. “There is a wide clientele. Against other species, even such primitive weapons are effective ... if they don’t have shields and similar defences,” he admitted, but the merchant saw nothing further wrong with it. “We don’t make a loss with them, and perhaps the farmers need inexpensive weapons, against wild animals and all sorts of vermin. Leave the worry of the sale to me.”

“I just wanted to share my concerns,” Kysaek replied. There was nothing more to say on the subject, as she was aware that it was Prax’s business. “Here are the foreign currency for the supplier:”

Prax received the plaque Kysaek had brought with her, where just under thirty thousand foreign currency was stored. “Perfect. My partners rarely see it paid on time,” he said, amused. “They’ll really take you to their hearts.”

“Sell well and it won’t be my last purchase.”

“You can’t have much better in the lower regions,” Prax said, jumping off the truck. Without the stretch of his neck, he was as tall as his new partner. “If all goes smoothly Nora, I’ll double your invested foreign currency and if it develops into anything more, I could imagine getting better merchandise and I’m not just talking mint. I mean possibly plasma, laser, or pressure weapons.”

The words sounded tempting, but Kysaek wanted to keep to her mantra - one step at a time. Things were going too well for her to act rashly. “For now, get rid of this load and bring me my share,” she clarified resolutely. “Then we’ll see what else turns up.”

Prax was in high spirits and yet he uttered a reminder. “I like the way you think Nora, but for your own good you should not tell anyone about our business.”

“That ... I wasn’t going to. Why should I talk to strangers about it?”

“Curious characters are always around and when some hear about. that there is a lot of foreign currency somewhere, they come like parasites and suck in,” Prax snorted. He was not afraid to repeat himself. “So keep our deal to yourself, just as your people should.”

“I’ll remind everyone, and speaking of which, I need to get back. Work is waiting.”

“For me too and as far as I know today is harvest day,” groaned Prax. That sounded like a task that was reluctantly done, although so far everything indicated that the Hishek was only selling his goods and not growing them himself. “That means I still have preparations to make.”

Harvesting, fields, farming. The galaxy’s temptations and opportunities were simply too great for Kysaek to want to earn his living by growing food. Opportunities abounded, in the form of public and private colonisation ventures, but the thought of being a farmer, in 2317, was backward to Kysaek, as if there were no galactic civilisation and no travel through space. Boring, in fact.

“Please, give us something,” pleaded a voice from the left.

Because Kysaek was playing through her thoughts, she had not noticed that she had once again passed by the beggars from whom everything had been stolen. “How?” it escaped her off guard and she looked into the eyes of the only Talin and woman among the beggars.

“Can they help us? With food? Water? Or perhaps some foreign currency?” the bedraggled Talin asked, trembling.

That the situation made her uncomfortable, Kysaek could not deny. So far she had looked but done nothing and that remained in her thoughts. “Yes, I mean no, so ehm ... yes, yes we have some food and water at our house.”

“Would you give us some of that?”

She thought about saying no, but Kysaek couldn’t. It felt wrong to refuse such a direct request when she had only cared about herself so far. “We could certainly spare food and drink,” she replied, and although the situation was not a rosy one, she felt it was an opportunity. She wanted to know what had happened to the people to avoid a similar fate. “I’ve seen you sitting here reading the sign before,” she cleared her throat sheepishly. “What happened to you, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“The thing that always happens - you have some stuff and then others come and take it away from you,” the Talin said with resentment in her voice. “The first time, it was in a colony on the border of Davoc territory. We lived there but there wasn’t much protection because it was an autonomous settlement and one day pirates came. I’m sure they can guess the rest.”

“Unfortunately, yes. What happened then?”

“We picked up remains in the destroyed colony and came to Central and were attacked by raiders on our way to Capon.”

Kysaek could probably only call that bad luck and reenacted the situation. After all, she also had to start over for the umpteenth time, only things went better for her. “And what are you going to do now?”

“Hope that things will finally get better. That’s all we have left and that’s all we can do. We are tired of building up and losing everything.”

The beggars had already given up, or were on the verge of doing so, and Kysaek was not about to accept that. “I have a suggestion for you all,” she said. It fitted into her current plans anyway and at the same time Kysaek could and wanted to do good. “Soon we will be expanding our courier service and we desperately need messengers. The work is already too much and with the expansion it will surely be even more.”

Astonishment was written all over the Talin’s face and she glanced at her people who were no less surprised. “You ... Are offering us work?” she asked cautiously.

“Sure. Surely you can all use it?”

“Indeed, but when would that be? Will it take long?”

First she needed the profits from the weapons sale. Before that, Kysaek couldn’t put her plans into action. “A certain amount of time, yes.”

“And what are we to do until then? Will we still get food and water now?” the Talin enquired slightly officiously before making a counter-offer. “Or perhaps you could help us in some other way.”

“Different? What do you have in mind?”

“I know it’s presumptuous,” the Talin apologised in advance, looking uncertain. It took her a while to get through to her question. “Could you give us foreign currency? Then we could stock up on our own and buy a cheap flat, and if you expand your business and hire us, we could pay back our debt in instalments.”

Kysaek hadn’t thought of such a thing and she liked the idea because there were only winners in the situation. “I don’t have much left, but just under four thousand I could lend you all.”

“R-really?” the beggar woman marvelled. You could tell that nothing good had happened to her for a long time because she doubted the offer. “But that’s too much and you need it as well ... why would you do such a thing?”

“Because I know what it’s like to be on the ground and a helping hand is rare. The galaxy sucks enough as it is and I’m not in the mood for this song, so I’ll play a different tune.”

“Song?”

“Not that important,” Kysaek agreed, transmitting the four thousand over her vortex cuff. Since she had a temporary identifier and new cuff, there was no danger of her being traced. What she transferred was almost the last of the group’s assets, but she considered it an investment that was also help. “I’ll be in touch when there’s work to be done. I have the data on her Vortex cuff now, after all.”

If at the beginning of the conversation Kysaek was at a loss for words, now the beggar woman was at a loss for words with joy. “This is ... I can hardly ... You’re ...”

“It’s all right. Just use it wisely. That’s thanks enough,” Kysaek said contentedly, and continued on her way home, while the four beggars gathered together, speechless as if they had just recovered a treasure of gold.

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