The 71s offer to equip them spurred Mr. Grumble into a week-long debate where his request for Makina or anti-Makina technology was consistently stonewalled by diplomatic claims of neutrality. The clones were fully intent on backing this covert operation but insisted on having no actual hand in it whatsoever. In the end, they dropped them off on a small moon in the Elipso system on the far edge of the galactic shipping lanes. The system held trading worlds, fuel refineries, and entertainment planets, but the moon Grimble suggested and the one the clones actually agreed on was nothing more than a scrapyard for recycling space-age technology. The clones left them and a crate of crustacean gold on a transport landing pad and departed without saying goodbye.
From the rusty steel platform, Grimble and Øregård looked out into an industrial wasteland. Factories spotted the bleak landscape belching fluffy clouds of atmosphere into a purple sky. The rust-colored mud of the moon's surface was covered in metallic debris; countless ship hulls, retired space stations, condemned buildings, and discarded dysfunctional robots of every imaginable configuration and size. Rolling hills of computer devices were climbed by huge sifting machines sorting out the trash of a hundred nearby worlds and the discarded waste of a galactic fleet of transport ships that passed through Elipso for refueling and a little R & R for their crews.
"Bad air," snorted Øregård.
"It's not the best, my friend, but far better than last time I was here. You can sorta breathe it," said Grimble from his perch on Øregård's shoulder.
"I don't think the clones liked us."
"I appreciate you having my back."
"They see you as small, Mr. Grimble Grumble, but I see the size of your mind."
"Thank you, my clear-eyed Gastraddar friend. Now, if we can summon a welcome droid..."
A small drone of a robot flew up, scanned them, and inventoried the big box next to them. The droid beeped, its scanner changed from red to green, and it beeped again in a more positive tone. It said, "Please wait here, someone will be with you immediately," in ten different languages then flew away.
A holographic emitter projected an image of a gorilla in spacer fatigues. The sloping head of the silverbacked great ape crumpled in distaste.
"How did a Gastraddar get his hands on such a delicious cargo? I wonder?" said the gorilla voiced through a speaker on the platform.
Øregård turned to face the image and was about to give the furry beast a piece of his mind when the animal's expression changed completely.
"Mr. Grimble? Is that you?" said the hologram.
"Samsun, my young friend, you've gotten bigger. Is Mr. Byggir about?" asked Grimble.
"He's off-world. If you've brought those lobsters to trade, there is nothing on this moon I wouldn't offer for them. It does appear you are in need of a ship?" said Samsun with a grin.
"That we are and a few other things, could we come inside before it rains?" said Grimble.
"I'll send a roller," said Samsun and his projection flickered out.
"Byggir is the son of my second cousin twice removed. He's been running this operation for a good couple of centuries. I'm glad to see Samsun in charge in his absence. A fine lad, though his people were forced into the last galactic war and it might be best if you let me handle the negotiations."
"I've never even seen his species before," protested Øregård.
"He probably only knows yours through stories and not good ones, I'm afraid."
A massive iron hauler came grinding over the landscape and pulled up to the platform they stood on. The door to the driver's compartment of the oversized dump truck opened and a tubular pilot droid blinked red eyes at them.
"Are you to take us to Samsun?" asked Grimble.
The robot twitched and beeped, "Affirmative."
A crane arm grabbed the crate of sea animals and held it above the scrap metal-filled bed of the truck. Øregård squeezed into the cab next to the driver with Mr. Grimble along for the ride on his shoulder. They drove through the wastes for an hour or so until they reached the great ship boneyard; row after row after row of space and terrestrial aviation vehicles parked in neat long lines waiting to be stripped for parts. At the center of the sprawling field of obsolete crafts was Samsun's chopshop. The gorilla licked his lips as the crane placed the crate just inside the hangar entrance.
"Well, well, well, one thousand Varan ice lobsters, the most expensive delicacy this side of Grandor 8. Are you looking for a battlecruiser? A speed machine? Hell, I've got a ten deck freighter in orbit that this stash could easily buy," said Samsun scanning the crate again. "You name it, I got it."
Samsun's hanger was full of robots disassembling and reassembling ships. The gearhead gorilla had a big welcoming grin, even for the Gastraddar.
"We're thinking of trading up to half our supply," said Grimble.
Samsun's smile actually grew with the idea that he was about to acquire so many near priceless living treasures. "My offer still stands, you can have any ship on the moon for that, we'll equip it, throw in a few pilot and maintenance droids to help you run it. I've got all kinds of makes and models, plenty of Ursa Minor ships, of course. What are you thinking?"
Grimble slid down Øregård's arm and passed from his hand to the gorilla's. He looked around as if to make sure no one overheard him and said, "We're looking for Makina tech."
It knocked the smile right off Samsun's face. "That's a dangerous request."
"Ideally we'd like a Makina ship and even more so any robotic parts, bodies, or weaponry you might have in your arsenal," said Grimble.
"I'm contractually obliged to inform you that trade in Ibi-Ero Makina technology of any kind is illegal in this sector. There is no way I could hand over Makina weapons to the Gastraddars, even if we had any. We could lose our lease on the moon!"
"Samsun, my fine young friend, meet Øregård. He and I are traveling as muscle with a pair of humans on a covert mission to Makina space."
"Humans? Come on, no one's gonna believe that," said Samsun. "Who's funding this mission, the Varan government?"
Samsun looked Øregård up and down. Samsun was a massive great ape but the Gastraddar was twice his size and looked twice as mean.
"They're Abraxian humans," said Grimble.
"Means nothing to me. Humans are humans and they don't have this kind of wealth." Samsun looked unbelieving at the gnome in his hand.
"We are going on a rescue mission to recover a human kidnapped by the Makina. The 71s have an interest in the individual. If we can recover him."
Samsun's eyes widened and he rubbed his furry chin. "Well, that explains the deep pockets and the foreign currency."
"I can add another two hundred lobsters hush money. I know Mr. Byggir once acquired two Makina ships from the battle of the FE-asteroid belt."
"It was one ship and we sold it for scrap after turning over crucial components to the proper authorities." Samsun saw a way of getting the whole crate. "The second was damaged beyond repair."
"It's still here though, right?"
"You'll never get it running again. Mr. Byggir tried."
"There were three Makina bodies in it, as I recall," said Grimble.
Samun looked at Øregård.
"You can trust him. He's no Gastraddar mercenary. He comes from an honorable clan. I'll vouch for him," added Grimble.
Samsun exhaled, scratched his side, and ran a finger around his right ear. Gorillas loved to communicate with nonverbals.
"Look, I want to build a battlesuit out of a Makina chassis. I had one but the 71s wouldn't let me keep it."
Samsun raised his free hand palm up and crinkled his forehead lifting his eyebrows.
"We need a ship that will make it to Makina space and back without drawing much attention and I need access to all the Makina tech you have and of course use of your workshop. This crate of lobsters is yours. That's the best I can do."
Samsun wiped his hand down his face. It was a big risk if it got back to him but the sheer value of the crate had more zeros than he could imagine without scientific notation. He nodded up and down several times as if saying yes to himself.
"Ok."