missile and laser banks removed.
Alex stared at it. It looked nothing like the Cobra that had destroyed his father's ship. That vessel had been bristling with all the extra things that good money could buy, to defend and to attack, and to make the trading game an easier prospect for the elite trader.
A light on the Cobra winked at him.
Alex blinked, then looked again. Sure enough, a small, red light was flashing on and off, a brief sequence of code.
LAND ON DOR PL
'Land on the dorsal plate'—That was clear enough.
Alex manoeuvred his tiny craft above the arrow shape of the Cobra, and touched it gently onto the heat- blistered hull. He looked around guiltily.
Touching monuments wasn't permitted and the cemetery was patrolled by Kraits, small and deadly security craft, with instructions to blast away any man, woman or child seen tampering with a mausoleum…
But the graveyard was huge, and the shadows of the great tombs transferred this miniature world of the dead into a place of hide-outs, and shifting, occasional safety.
An entry port opened, and a green light quickly blinked the message 'Come aboard'. Alex flew the tour-ship into the hull space and when he got the
'pressure green' signal stepped out and walked cautiously towards the main control area. He opened the sliding door and blinked for a moment at the bright control displays and scanners. Ahead of him, the main screen was wide, and filled with a view of Fleischer's crystal tomb.
Silhouetted against the gleaming brightness of the crystal was the shape of a man, wearing full space suit. One hand rested on the navigation console, the other hovered above the laser button.
'I'm aboard,' Alex said, and walked up behind the silent pilot. The man made no movement, said nothing.
For a moment Alex stood beside him, staring out into the wreckplace, at the slowly shifting monuments, at the stars glimpsed in the background.
Then he turned to greet his host.
And nearly died of shock, taking a quick, horrified step backwards!
It was the drawn, mummified face of a corpse that half looked up at him from behind its visor, the rictus smile of death stretching wide across its lips.
'Do you think we should take him with us?' a voice asked from across the cabin. Alex started again with surprise and watched the figure which emerged from the shadows. 'As a sort of totem. A lucky charm.'
Alex tried to smile, but neither relief nor the new arrival's charming grin could relax him enough. Too much had happened too fast, and he stood rooted to the spot, watching as the woman came over to him.
She was quite small. Her skin was olive, her eyes dark. She wore her hair in a fashionable series of spikes, like a porcupine. Dressed in the light green coveralls that most traders sported, she seemed swamped by clothes.
Her hand-touch was cool and confident, and she kept the contact as she looked up at Alex Ryder, still smiling disarmingly.
'So you're the man that Rafe has chosen. Well, Alex. So far it seems that star-riding with you is at least going to be quiet. You do…er…' she frowned. 'You do have a speech function?' She turned him slightly and felt up his back for the switch. 'Or are you one of the early 'semaphore and gormless grin' models?'
'Sorry,' Alex said. 'You took me by surprise.'
'Oh God,' the woman said. 'Where's the off-switch? I think I prefer you silent…'
'Who are you?' Alex asked, irritated by her levity and keen to find out why Rafe Zetter had summoned him here? Where was the old man?
'Trader Fields', she said, and touched the heel of her right hand to her left shoulder by way of salute. 'My given name is Elyssia. Elyssia Fields.'
She smiled again. 'My brood mother's little joke. She discovered Greek mythology at age 9 when she was incubating her first cluster.'
Brood mother? Greek? Incubating clusters? That meant that Elyssia Fields was from Teorge, the so-called 'clone-world'. Alex struggled to remember what he'd been taught about Teorge… an inhabited world… settled by two colony ships that had proceeded to clone a select few of the crew and colonists, killing the others. For centuries Teorge had been a world apart, cut off from the normal flow of trade and commerce, and banned from sending representatives into space.
Elyssia Fields was clearly a fugitive.
'I'm Alex Ryder,' Alex said. different combinations of food and drink each time you play), night ensues, 'I know,' the woman said back, breaking the gaze with which she'd been fixing him. She patted the corpse on the shoulder, an oddly affectionate gesture. 'This is — or rather was — Space Trader Henry Bell. We're going to purloin Mister Bell's coffin. Of all the people who are going to object, he's going to be the most objectionable. This rust bucket is set up with holo-projections of our man here, warning of dire consequences for invading his sanctity. I've turned most of them off, but I expect I've missed a few.'
'We're going to steal this ship?' Alex said quietly, checking the flickering control display panel. Witchlight fuel registered enough for a
0.1 light-year jump, hardly sufficient to clear the Tionisla system.
Elyssia stared at him, a half smile on her lips. 'We could pass the time chatting if you'd prefer. Plant some flowers, clean the tomb up…'
'I meant,' Alex said drily, 'How the hell are we going to get away with it?' He found himself staring at the pert features of the humanoid female.
The shadow of gloom and grief that had haunted him for the last few hours seemed to fade a little. The girl interested him. He added, 'And just why are you helping me, anyway? Where's Rafe?'
With a quick laugh, Elyssia said, 'Funny thing about Rafe. Wherever you go in the galaxy, he's always there, a shimmering white holoFac… but where he really is… that's something you're about to find out.' she glanced up at Alex. 'Why am I helping you? Who says I am. We'll be helping each other, in fact. You have a father to avenge. I have some things to avenge too. Maybe I'll tell you about them one day. But without you I cannot fly this ship.'
Surprised, Alex said, 'Cobras were made to be flown by a single pilot.'
'But I'm a single Teorgeon. I'm not supposed to be here. I can fly this bucket with my eyes closed, but your face fits. Listen, Alex, this craft wouldn't survive the first attack by a pirate with a peashooter, no matter how good we are behind the laser button. We need shields, missiles, defences and cargo space. How d'you think we're going to get them? They don't grow on silvery moons, you know.'
'Trade for them,' Alex said gloomily, and the vista of his family's long life trading through the stars swept before his eyes.
Elyssia was right. He couldn't go hunting a Cobra without the proper equipment, and it would take too long to sort out his inheritance, bearing in mind the circumstances of his father's death.
He felt utterly overwhelmed with frustration. A part of him wanted to kill right now. A part of him wanted to rip out onto the space-lanes, and hunt his father's killer. But the best part of him knew that would be a recipe for disaster, that patience was called for, that a tactical appraisal of how he would set about the hunt was essential… and that a protected ship was the barest necessity!
'I've got a hundred credits in all the world,' Alex said, referring to the Galactic Emergency Services loan that he had been given to get him home.
'It's a start,' Elyssia said. 'It's a start in the trading business. As Rafe would say, we'll give this old lass an iron ass.' Her face darkened though the flickering lights from the console were bright in her eyes.
'Then we'll go to a place that I suspect only Rafe Zetter knows, and we'll watch a lot of heartache burn up courtesy of some fine shooting by the both of us. 'We'll get the ship that put an end to your father. It's a ship that has a lot to answer for…'
But she would say no more than that.
For anyone reckoning on beginning a space trading career from scratch the hardest task is finding a ship. Each planetary system has its floating junk yards, its second-hand craft, its impounded vessels, eventually
