Pathways - Jeri Taylor [162]
And then he remembered. He propped himself up against the wall and stared at Wix, recalling the horror of the ordeal he’d been through, his rage at Wix and his conviction that Wix was insane . . .
Wix continued to bathe his face with the warm towel as he chattered. “I know it was awful, but you’re through with it. It’s over. We’ll see about getting you bathed and finding some clean clothes . . .”
At last, Neelix understood the extent of the great gift Wix had given him. He had been addicted to the crystals— their withdrawal wouldn’t have been so devastating to him had he not—and Wix had forced him to cleanse his system, had sat patiently and taken care of him, had endured his abuse and his threats, and was there to revive him when the ordeal was over.
It was a gift he could never repay. Tears of gratitude welled in his eyes, and he put out a hand and clutched Wix’s arm, squeezing it tightly, all he could manage because at this point he didn’t trust himself to talk.
Wix smiled, and cuffed him gently on the temple. “We have to get you up and moving, Neelix. You and I have a business to run.”
And they did, for almost a year. Gone were the Rhuludian crystals, to be replaced by hard work, long hours, occasional chicanery, and a lot of laughter. They didn’t become wealthy, but they always ate well, and if they had to keep moving because sometimes there were disgruntled customers left behind—well, they had no burdens to keep them tied to any one place. All of space was their home, and they enjoyed forging new trails, heading into the unknown, surviving by their wits.
Their once-dilapidated vessel had been refitted and now was tidy and trim. The quarters had been personalized and made into small, cozy havens where they would sit and plan and scheme. Neelix felt, for the first time since the Metreon Cascade, a measure of peace, and the challenges of survival kept him keen and buoyed.
The Ubean incident, which was to put an end to all this, was never anticipated as more than a routine trade negotiation. The Ubeans did have a fearsome reputation, that much they had gleaned from stops at stations along the way, but Neelix and Wix had met menacing species before and discovered that everyone has basic needs: clothing, shelter, food, and the ability to travel through space. They were scrupulous about staying well out of political discussion and maintaining neutrality above all else. In this way they were even able to travel among warring species without being put in harm’s way.
The Ubeans should have been no different. And when Neelix and Wix first met with a scouting party from their homeworld, they were encouraged by the stiff formality of this quadrupedal race, with their long snouts and their small, curious eyes. Although bristling with weaponry, the Ubeans maintained a polite dignity, and Neelix soon discovered that they had a pressing need for microarc thrusters, for which they were more than happy to provide pure tantalum ingots.
Perhaps it was their reserve, their seeming courtesy, that lulled the duo into taking a risk that was perfectly unnecessary but, in their minds, quite acceptable. Neelix and Wix had assembled several crates of microarc thrusters, but didn’t have enough of the necessary magnetic pumps to render the units functional. They could have traded only for the complete thruster assemblies, but they knew the tantalum the Ubeans would be giving them was highly prized in the sector, and they hated to see their profit margin slashed. So they reasoned that they could stack the functional units on the top layer of each crate, so when the Ubeans inspected the merchandise, they’d encounter the complete units and not bother checking the rest.
A bit risky, perhaps, but then all business requires a certain amount of risk, and theirs perhaps more than some. They were confident they