The Merchant (sci-fi 1)

The sand, as it puffed up around the treads of the huge transport crawler, gave off the acrid scent of alkali. Hamjiir nodded to himself and made a mental note to make sure all of the water barrels were checked for bacteria that night. If an infection was caught early, it could be purified: a long and aggravating prospect, but better than being out in this desert without water. For sure anything they found here would be contaminated.
Hamjiir checked their forward progress by watching a tuft of wire grass as it passed the front tread and counting until it finally went by tread number eight on the left side. He did some quick calculations and frowned as he figured their speed at a few points above the Transport Guild’s regulation 35 miles per hour. He trundled his squat pyramidal body around on its axis, each of his four legs working in tandem, and headed for the control tower near the middle of the crawler. Having eyes that faced forwards and back, and a very adaptable motile structure, Hamjiir could have walked back the way he came with little problem, but most Var, as his kind was called, settled on a primary orientation when they were still young, and clung to it thereafter for convenience.
As he reached one arm forward to activate the door mechanism he felt a slight pull towards the front of the crawler and smiled. They had slowed. Sure enough, when the door opened Najef was looking guiltily at him from the drive controller.
“I am sorry, Master Merchant; I was not paying enough attention to our progress. I have corrected the error, but the burden is mine.” Najef gave the Var equivalent of a bow, squatting on all four legs and linking his long arms in front of his body, and then spreading his arms and raising up slowly, as if lifting a heavy object.
“No, no, Najef, you will carry no weight for me,” Hamjiir waved his arm under Najef’s, “I too wish to leave the desert, but we would make this trip not at all if it wasn’t for the notes to be made at the end.”
Najef’s unconscious haste in traveling was understandable – to get out of the desert was eminently to be desired – but if they arrived early, fines from the Transport Guild would wipe out Hamjiir’s profits.
“Thank you, Master Merchant. I will be more attentive,” Najef said with relief. This job was a good one for a young Var, and a bad review from Hamjiir could have spelled the end of it for him. He maneuvered himself back to the controls with a visible determination to make no more mistakes.
Hamjiir hid a grin as he slowly turned away. He remembered his years of rising through the ranks as a Merchant, doing odd jobs and errands for the masters, and occasionally, like Najef, driving over the more boring stretches of a travel route. He knew how easy it was to become impatient and lose track of speed when everything looked exactly the same, and no forward progress was obvious.
Hamjiir looked forward once more, at the unending sands, and sighed. Knowing the reasons for their slowness did not help to end it, after all.
A thin pillar of flame suddenly shot up off to the side of the crawler, and he focused his eyes on the spot from whence it came. Some creature of the desert? But no, there was a figure there waving some kind of device. It was short and lumpy, but it stretched upwards into a lankier form as he watched. A Zeequess, then. The warriors had the ability to change their shapes. It was a matter of muscular contractions moving small bones in their bodies rather than true shape-shifting, but it made them very recognizable.
Hamjiir frowned in thought. He was tempted to just pass by, but only for a brief second. Despite his long years as a Master Merchant, he had never taken to the idea that business overcame decency. The Zeequess loping towards the crawler was far from home, and he would leave no one in this bleak desert unless he absolutely had to. His profits would not be lessened by a brief stop, after all. Rising from his flat perch, he waved to the central control tower, and immediately felt the crawler slow. Quickly he trundled himself into the forward rope house, closing the door behind him. As the crawler stopped, the huge tail of dirt, sand, and alkali that was rucked up behind them would sweep forward and coat anything that was still exposed before it settled.
A few minutes after the crawler came to a complete stop he reemerged, to find the Warrior standing before him on the crawler’s deck. Hamjiir scrutinized the squat rubbery looking figure, rough skin its only covering aside from a complex battle harness and the aforementioned dust. Zeequess had no visible sex characteristics to conceal, and were hardy enough not to need clothing for either heat or cold. It had two arms ending in three powerful thumbs each, and two legs with three toes each as well. It also had four tough tendrils growing from its back in a rough square. The Warrior’s carpals – the bone fragments that could be moved inside the Zeequess’ body to provide support for various configurations of muscle - were obviously moving from the rapid climbing form it had used to ascend the ladder on the side of the carrier to a more comfortable standing posture. The heavy pack the Warrior carried with the bottom two tendrils, in addition to two small insignia on the harness, told Hamjiir he was a scout, but no other information could he glean from mere appearances. Carefully, he settled himself on his perch and awaited the Warrior’s tale.