Free Balance of Terror by K. S. Augustin Page A

“C’mon, let’s get everything packed up to move.”
    He walked across the bare earth to one shed and was about to reach for the access panel when someone zipped around the corner to confront him. Moon and Srin stood in place, watching the altercation.
    The alien – that much was obvious from the sloping, elongated head, slit-like eyes and skin almost as dark as Moon’s – approached Gauder and jabbered in a language Moon didn’t understand.
    “Ah, gerroff,” Gauder growled, pushing him away. “I thought I told yer! I found another driver for this trip.”
    The alien obviously objected to this. Another stream of indecipherable language streamed from its thin lips.
    “That’s not my problem,” the merchant replied. “Circumstances change. I’m running a business here, not a damned charity.”
    The ousted driver didn’t give up. He tugged at Gauder’s sleeve forcibly, the gestures timed to emphasise its words.
    Gauder eventually pulled away. “Go see Tal in that case…yes, at the tavern…I don’t care what yer think of those places, he’s in need of a part-time delivery man. He may take yer, more likely not, but that’s none of my concern….”
    The alien hesitated and Gauder took advantage of it by shoving him backwards with both hands. “Ah to hell with yer, the last thing I need is yer thanks.”
    He glared over to where Moon and Srin were still standing. “The vehicles aren’t goin’ t’ drive themselves across the planet, yer know.”
    “He’s such a gracious host,” Srin murmured, as they followed Gauder to one of the sheds, “how can we refuse?”
    Moon wasn’t mollified. She watched as the alien looked back at them then sloped off towards the front gates. “If I thought, for a moment, that there was another way—”
    “There isn’t. And who knows? We may find there’s gold under that thick skin of his.”
    “This ain’t a social club! Get yer bums over here or I’ll turf yer both out meself.”
    Srin grimaced. “Or not.”
    The shed they entered seemed a lot bigger on the inside than it appeared from the outside. Two large vehicles were parked beside a separate workshop that was outfitted with benches, shelves and several pieces of heavy equipment. Dust specks rose in eddies from the floor and swirled around the three of them, glinting in the sunbeams that stabbed through occasional frosted panels in the roof. The shed was crowded, the powdery air tickled at Moon’s nose, but everything was neatly arranged.
    Gauder pointed to the newer-looking of the two vehicles. “I’ll drive the lead. You’ll follow.”
    Srin frowned and approached closer, resting his hand on a metal plate while he peered beneath the vehicle’s heavy chassis. “Do I see…treads?”
    “Aye, treads.”
    Srin turned to their host. “You drive these on the terrain itself? These are ground vehicles?”
    “Yer’ve never had to do much manual work, have yer?” Gauder spoke as he moved, his actions quick and sure. “Fer a start, the mass of my merchandise exceeds a lot of above-ground transport specs, and I ain’t a government, able to waste money jes’ so I can hover over a road.” He periodically referred to a checklist pinned to one of the workshop pillars, but kept talking. “Second, out there, I need tech I can depend on. Engines I can repair. Parts I can cobble together. In other words, the kind o’ life that doesn’t come with fancy skimmers or low-altitude speeders.” He stopped and stared at them intently. “We travel on the ground every centimetre of the way.”
    Neither Moon nor Srin objected. The response appeared to satisfy Gauder because he grunted. “Right then, we need to load supplies. Dump yer gear in yer vehicle’s cabin, then start lifting. We’ll need fifty per cent more than I’d figured because there are two of yer, not one, so let’s get crackin’.”
    Moon knew she was a hard worker, but that afternoon in Gauder’s shed was the kind of exercise she had never