Floating Castles

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THREE OF THEM CAME forth from their wonderful machine and tottered toward us across the rough concrete of Industry Square. I smiled when I saw how weak they were. My mate Nefrete and a dozen of my men stood with me, waiting to greet the aliens, and we all wore the same smile.

The leader was a small, ancient biped. A few strands of dirty gray hair crossed her fragile skull. Her skin was dark; not an honest black, but not the dead white of the other two, who seemed almost mindless, two pale grubworms walking like men, their eyes empty.

"I am Kaua Moala, trader and finder," she said, holding up an empty hand.

I shook my ceremonial harquebus at her, by way of greeting. "Taladin Bondavi; call me Lord," I said in a loud voice.

The trader inclined her head, exposing a thin, bony neck. "Lord. Greetings in the name of Seed Corpo—"

"What do you want here?" I interrupted. I saw no need for courtesy. She was my inferior, after all. Attitude is everything. I used to say this frequently. I still believe it, in spite of all.

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