Oh, the stories that followed for weeks and months.
“Those were heady days, Son.”
Shad finished dressing in front of a mirror as he recounted the war’s end to Malik. Shad slipped on his favorite cape – yellow with red trim. It had become his signature fashion. When the cape arrived on the scene, clients knew Shad Abdelmani came ready to make a deal.
“Heady,” Malik mumbled, standing nearby in his father’s suite aboard the Dalliance. “Right. Father, you’ve told me this story at least a dozen times. Why now?”
Shad tied off the cape and flexed to his left and right, as if remembering dance moves.
“Origin stories matter, Son. The first and last pages have a circular relationship.”
“Right. Causality, and all that. You don’t have to revisit the topic. You’ve only been pounding it in my head for twenty years.”
Shad reached for a bowl of hand cream.
“I’d shut up about it if I thought you understood.”
“I do, Father. The problem lies in your standard of what it means to ‘understand’ anything. You perceive reality at a level the rest of us idiots never will. The Wave affected everyone differently. Most, not at all. And I was too young to have a clue.”
The cream smelled of mango and coconut. An exclusive blend. Best in the forty worlds. Worth every UCV.
“It doesn’t mean you’re incapable of seeing the streams between the stars. The shift in reality affected everyone. Its impact lingers, and it can be tapped even now – if you dive deep enough.”
Malik touched his wrist pad.
“Sorry, Father. You’ll have to settle for an intellectual meeting of the minds. I’ll never feel time and space like you.” Malik spoke into the wrist pad. “Status, Jarmin?”
“Final approach. They just sent the signal.”
“Good. Steady in. Gun ports on standby. Malik out.”
Shad finished rubbing his hands and took a large whiff.
“Wonderful.” He caught his son’s impatient eyes. “You’re still worried about this exchange?”
“You say the seller can be trusted, but people are getting desperate out there. With Code Exodus moving along, this feels less reward and more risk.”
“Oh, Malik. What have I taught you about standing pat? We can’t be sure of anything until all the pieces have moved into position.”
Malik tucked his hands into his green jumpsuit.
“This cargo ... it’s another level. Doesn’t causality prove every winning streak comes to an end?”
“Victory is claimed after the last success of the final day, but it was built on the first day.” He play-slapped Malik on the cheek. “Let’s do business, Son.”
The Dalliance cruised alongside the Heartstopper, an old transport dating back deep into the previous Collectorate. Heartstopper lacked a hangar large enough to take a Scramjet, so a transport bridge would have to do. Linking up took longer than either party wished, but the berth allowed for cargo transfer.
First, time to meet the seller.
Shad admitted he was a bit nervous.
“Been years,” he told Malik as they passed through the bridge. “We were best mates after the war, but time and light-years has a way of shifting relationships.”
The egress swung open on the Heartstopper. The man in the threshold – late forties with a full beard and a shaved head – dropped his hands to his hips and laughed.
“They told me you looked ridiculous. They were right.”
Shad feigned dismay.
“What? You don’t like my cape? This fashion is known across a thousand light-years!”
Shad hugged Alexi Babb and moaned.
“What have you been rolling in, Alexi?”
“Sorry, old friend. Hoped you wouldn’t notice. Our environmental controls are daffy. I haven’t taken a shower in five days.”
“She’s what? A century old?”
“The deed says a hundred thirty.”
“I intend to live at least as long.” He introduced his first-born. “Malik Abdelmani. Faithful and true as ever a son might be.”
Malik, a blast rifle slung over his shoulder, shook Alexi’s hand.
“My father is melodramatic.”
“So I’ve heard. The tales of Shad and his cape are legend. But there’s no more artful trader in the sector. As I’m sure you know.”
