My Big Goblin Space Program

Chapter 21 - Rufus Returns

“Ahoy, Apollo! You’d not believe the journey I’ve had, o’ king!”

That was a voice I hadn’t heard in almost 10 days. While I wasn’t terminally lonely anymore, thanks to the company of some goblins with a capacity for speech that had joined my tribe in the interim, Rufus also brought critical knowledge of the outside world.

I put down the finished glider and went to the north slope, where Rufus was ascending in one of the freight baskets. The operators for the lift hooked the rope and pulled it over to the bluff where I helped Rufus from the basket. He looked down at my new legs. “His highness is a good deal more mobile than last we spoke. I see the stone-hide sloth lives on with you. But I hope this was not meant to be your idea for trade for salt and tools.”

“Just the appetizer,” I said. “Come on, let me show you around the new and improved Tribe Apollo Village.”

He marveled at the crane for a moment before we walked through the woods to the rest of the village, where he froze. “I say, you’ve certainly been busy these last 10 days.”

The sticky shelters had been replaced by mostly adobe huts made from dried bricks—though we still had night haunts coming in through the thatch and clay tile roofs. Several miniature versions of the lifts were also present, with Buzz’ goblins scrambling back and forth along the top arm to act as counterweights to lift the building materials. We even had impact hammers now, lifting logs on pullies with several goblins hauling and letting them drop to hammer terrain flat and drive poles into the ground.

It was actually a fascinating thing to watch a glorified goblin see-saw and maypole used to perform heavy construction. I had joked about it, but goblins really did make fantastic counterweights thanks to their climbing abilities, their keen sense of balance, and their immunity to falling damage when both of those qualities inevitably and spectacularly failed. We had started to develop multi-level structures with wood floors creating discrete levels for sleeping mounds. Which was good, because space atop the bluff wasn’t infinite and I wasn’t ready to risk housing goblins down at the base of the bluff. That would be just as bad as offering them up to the night haunts.

Beyond that, we’d been drying more pottery to store things like raw clay, oils, grease, and even grubs for the fishermen. Cordage of various thickness and material sat in coils under a rain shelter, and next to that an assortment of other raw materials. Goblins took what they needed, and other goblins replaced the stockpiles. It was becoming a neat little operation, though not without systematic deficiencies that needed to be addressed.

“Yeah, we’ve been getting after it,” I said.

“Quite the feat,” said Rufus.

He caught sight of one of the flex-a-pults and went to examine it. He must have surmised its purpose fairly quickly, because he immediately retreated to a safe distance. “You know, humans use a device like that to throw rocks, not themselves. I think you’ll need more than that to reach the moon, my friend.”

“That?” I said, waving him off. “That’s just a time-saver. Besides, I have no humans I need to throw rocks at. Come on, take a load off and let’s catch up. How was the coast?”

Rufus allowed me to take him to what had become something of the village square, where most of the goblins gathered for dinner at night around the primary firepit. The trader eyed the kiln curiously as we passed it, still smoldering from its second firing. Not all the parts we’d tried to make the first time had survived the process, after all. And not all of the ones that had, had worked. Ceramics were an exercise in persistence and the law of averages.

At the square, I’d had a squat bench made with Rufus’ rough proportions in mind, and he dropped onto it with a sigh and a creak of distressed wood. “Your tribe found me a league north of here and were quite insistent that we divert west. Why is that?”

I poked at the coals for a moment wondering if I was losing hunters, speed freaks, or both. Hell, even being in the village wasn’t particularly safe. Several goblins had been squashed in construction over the past few days, while Sally’s engineers often fell victim to catastrophic failures. Sometimes it seemed like a race between the two factions on who could accumulate more peg legs and hook hands. But prosthetics didn’t seem to hamper their productivity, nor their spirit. I don’t think ‘rehabilitation’ was a word anywhere in the Goblin Tech Tree. “We’ve been tracking a band of javelines that don’t seem friendly. I didn’t want you to run into them by misfortune.”

“I see.” Rufus sat pensive for a moment and poked at the old coals from the fire. “Misfortune would be the correct word, when it comes to their ilk. I wish you well. I take it they are the reason for the fortifications?”

“Not exactly,” I said, glancing at the night haunt totem. “In fact, we’ve had no direct contact. But I did see that they have metal tools, so I had considered trying to offer a trade.”

“I would advise against such an act. And not simply because I stand to profit greatly from my exclusive friendship and monopolistic trade policy with your majesty, mind.”

“Of course not. But speaking of profit. Did you bring things to trade?”

“But of course,” said Rufus, swinging his large pack down and opening the top of the ruck. He pulled out a bottle and passed it over. “That’s not to trade, o’ king, but to lubricate the negotiations.”

I unstoppered the bottle and pressed it to my lips, taking a swallow. I pulled it away, coughing. “Stout.”

Rufus grinned his badger grin and took a sip of his own before stopping the bottle and wiping his muzzle on the back of his arm. “Blackberry wine. Cheap and strong, and easily able to survive sea voyages thanks to its foul taste and tendency to remain at the bottom of cabin chests. Now, let’s see what I have for you…”

He reached back into his bag and pulled out a small, bound book. “I thought I might pack heavy, this trip, with the weight of knowledge. There are few things a learned creature covets more than more learning.” He handed it over, and I opened it at random, not even sure I’d be able to read the words. But they appeared clear as day, and I flipped back to the introduction and read it out loud.

“A treatise on the practice of harvesting and processing iron nodules in peat bogs in northern Baleron.” I looked up. “Where’s Baleron?”

“About 1500 miles east as the crow flies, across the sea and up in the foothills.” said Rufus. “That’s why I got such a good deal on it in Hobbesport.”

“I didn’t know you could find iron in bogs,” I said. “I thought you mined it.”

“Ah-ha! We find another fact the goblin king did not already know! We’re off to a much better start today.” Rufus slapped his thigh and laughed. “It can be mined as well. Harvesting it from bogs is a somewhat antiquated method, but quite effective. Would you like to see the others?”

“You brought more books?” I asked, trying to hide my excitement.

“These are quite heavy, you know. I hope you have something good to trade.”

I barked a laugh. “There’s always these,” I said, unlacing the prosthetic and handing it over for Rufus’ inspection. He turned them about. “Or at least the designs for them. These ones are fitted to me. They’re stronger and more flexible than wood. You can run, jump, and climb in them. I assume this world has soldiers, or those who were victims of illness or accidents that lost limbs.”

“Quite a trade for a simple book. And what would you want in return for such an imbalance?” asked Rufus. “A tool? A sack of pepper?”

“Just knowledge, and the promise that you’ll share this with those who need it. I’m not ready for the world to know who I am, but I won’t sit on the knowledge of advanced prosthetics, either.” I ran a hand through my hair. “Pepper, you say?”

Rufus reached into his bag and withdrew a journal. “Kindness, then, is what you ask.”

“I’ll take pepper, too.”

“Will you draw and describe them in here in exchange for a local bestiary? And, yes, perhaps a bit of pepper.”

I accepted the journal, as well as my leg back and sketched a few diagrams of the simple mechanics of the prosthetic. I tried not to let it show on my face how valuable a bestiary would actually be. It might hold secrets to defeating the night haunts, or a creature that would be useful livestock. It might even tell me more about the javeline rutters. I’m pretty sure Rufus saw through me instantly. He did have skills for that, after all. Which I needed to ask him about, later. I pulled the bladed prosthetic back on and reached into my own bag that I kept tied at my hip. “I have something else for you,” I said. I pulled out a small palm full of the ceramic balls we’d fired and handed them over. Rufus held it close to his eye and rolled it between his fingers.

“This is quite round. I may not know artifice, but I know perfectly smooth spheres are of some rarity and value. Is it clay?”

“Not quite. Try to break it.”

Rufus squeezed the bearing between his fingers, then pressed it between his palms. Finally, he got to his feet, put the bearing on the log bench, and ground at it with his boot heel. He picked it back up and furrowed his brow. “Not a scratch!?”

“We can make them by the dozens, all as strong, smooth, and as round as that.” I whistled to get my tribes’ attention. “Hey Sally! Bring over one of those finished bearings,” I said. I waited for her to bring over the small device, before casting a shy glance at Rufus and making herself scarce. I held the ball bearing out for Rufus to see. As he watched, I spun the outer part of the bearing, which rode smoothly on the ceramic balls inside. “And from what you’ve told me, I don’t think there’s many people in this land creating these.”

Rufus took the bearing, twisting the outer layer back and forth. “I’m afraid I’m not a… what would you call someone who uses these?”

“A machinist,” I said. “Sally uses them to operate the lift that brought you up to the village.”

“That, a machinist,” said Rufus. “I can’t tell you what the true value of this is. But I know artificers who might be similar to your machinists. There are those in a city to the south, beyond the plains, who create brass marvels and brook with strange contraptions such as these. If anyone will recognize the use for such a trinket, it is they.”

I was sure they would. Ball bearings were only the fundamental development that enabled complex moving parts for the entirety of the modern world—arguably one of the most important inventions in history. Along with gunpowder, internal combustion, and electric power generation.

“Keep that one, then. You don’t have to trade me anything for it, just find me a customer who will trade for more.”

Rufus tucked it into a pocket on his coat. “And what would you want in exchange for more, should I come with an order?” he asked.

I thought about it. “Copper wire,” I said.

“Not silver or gold?”

“Just copper. And magnets, if you can find them. I imagine these artificers might have some.”

“Magnets?”

I put my palms together. “Special stones that push or pull on each other from a distance.”

“Ah, lodestones.”

I unrolled a set of precision ceramic instruments next and laid them out for Rufus to examine. “Doctors and artificers might both find use in these.”

The half-badger picked up one of the small knives and tested the edge. He hissed when his finger came away with a spot of blood and stuck the digit in his mouth.

“Ah, yes, should have warned you,” I said. “That scalpel is sharp.”

“Sharp, he says. It sliced through fur and skin as though they weren’t even there! Is this the same material as the spinning ring?”

I nodded. “It’s a hard material, difficult to scratch. But it can be brittle, especially large pieces. They used it for armor where I came from. A plate of this will stop a crossbow bolt.”

“Indeed!” said Rufus. “That I could certainly find customers for.” He pulled out a small pack that turned out to contain the jewelers tools I mentioned I wanted. I’d completely forgotten that I asked for them, and I felt a bit guilty when I saw them.

“Ah, I, uh, yeah…” I said, running a hand through my blue fur at the top of my head. “Yeah, I suppose I don’t really need those, now.”

“And after I hauled them all this way,” Rufus chided, winking. “Though, others will certainly want your version. I know several chirurgeons and a dentist in Bale’s Landing who came to Lanclova in search of exotic medicinals. They surely have contacts on the mainland who could move these. Make more, and I will sell them for you.”

I smiled. Despite his animalistic appearance, Rufus was an easy-going fellow with an easy-to-like attitude. I hadn’t realized how much I missed him after our first meeting. “I’m glad you came back,” I said, surprising even myself.

“A unique oddity such as yourself certainly brooks a second visit, I should say,” said Rufus. “Begging your pardon at referring to you as odd. That aside, we had a wager. And despite the curiosities you’ve shown me, I feel as though I’m going to win it.”

I grinned up. “That’s because I saved the best for last. This one isn’t up for trade. Follow me.”