The Tau Ceti Transmutation (Amazon) by Alex P. Berg Read Free Book Online

drowsy-looking Tak stood behind a counter, its back- and forelegs hidden so only its long-armed torso remained visible. To me, the Taks had always seemed like a cross between centaurs and cows, except it was the human portion of the centaur that had been replaced with cow parts—as if a half-cow had been cut and pasted on a full one at a ninety degree angle. And if the half-cow had rudimentary hands and a creepy, square-toothed smile. Given their appearance, it’s a miracle relations with the Taks were as cordial as they were, but by all accounts their flesh tasted like sour rat meat.
    We walked to the counter, but before we could introduce ourselves, the Tak opened its mouth and jabbered at us in a deep, lilting voice. My Brain translated its speech to something recognizable, but it couldn’t do much for the alien’s broken grammar.
    “One human and one droid, perchance? I believe to be in possession of free cells. First hour collects at twenty-five SEUs, a mere eighteen an hour after that. Partial hours count as full. A steal, really. I despair as to how I will feed my children after local authorities take payments for subsidies and lodging, but my hooves are bound. I prefer Brain payment but can also swipe payslip.”
    “Whoa, hold your, um…horses, there, big guy,” I said, stumbling over my own word choice. “We’re not here to buy…what is it you sell, anyway?”
    “The sign, it is descriptive. It is a funporium.” The Tak waved a three-fingered hand, as if his statement explained everything.
    It’s an arcade, said Paige. You know, like where people congregate and play interactive Brain games together?
    People do that? I thought. Why?
    Lag, mostly, said Paige. The speed of light is only so fast, you know, and even a few microseconds can make a difference when you’re wasting zombies with digital blasters.
    I nodded sagely, as if the Tak’s explanation had helped. “Right, well, we’re not here to play any games, Mr….”
    “Keelok,” said the Tak. “Must I again point you in the direction of the sign? Is it not visible to your optical receptors? And the proper honorific in our culture is Curator.”
    “Seriously?” I asked. “You’re pulling my leg, right?”
    Keelok’s nostrils widened.
    That’s the Tak equivalent of him raising his eyebrows, crossed with a bit of a sneer, said Paige. And he’s serious about the Curator thing.
    “Very well,” I said. “My partner Carl and I are here to ask you a few questions, Curator Keelok.”
    “I do not possess a facility for your species to relieve itself of liquid waste.”
    “That wasn’t going to be my question.” I reached a hand into my pocket and retrieved the token, which I placed on the counter. “Have you ever seen this curio before?”
    “That one?” Keelok said. “I do not know. I do not inspect them at great leisure. Is this of import?”
    I scratched my head. “Um…I have to admit I lost you there. Could you run that by me again?”
    The Tak’s nostrils widened some more. “Are you going to gift me with a purchase? Did my appeal regarding the welfare of my children not yank on your arteries?”
    He means pull on your heartstrings, said Paige. And he’s getting annoyed. Offer to buy something.
    “Alright,” I said. “If I rent one of your rooms for an hour, will you answer some questions?”
    “One hour?” said Keelok. “My children shrivel and die as we speak, human.”
    I turned to Carl. “Did we remember to ask for an expense account from Valerie?”
    “She’s paying us in bear claws, remember?” he said. “Unless you haggled for an extra basketful or two, the answer is no.”
    “Drat. I guess this is coming out of my own pocket.” I sighed. “Fine. Two hours. Deal?”
    “Praise be to your deity of choice, customer,” said Keelok as Paige sent the payment. “My children live. Now, how can I assist?”
    “The token,” I said, pointing to the counter. “What can you tell us about it?”
    “It is what you