Jak Phoenix

Chapter Three - The Tempest

  The Tempest’s computer had a female voice, although it was not Jak’s first selection from the three settings programmed into the operating system. Jak’s nonconformist nature subconsciously forced him to insist on an alternate choice, due to the fact that so many pilots and captains chose a female voice for their ships. He had tried the other two options. The supplied monotone, ‘generic computer voice,’ scared the hell out of him and the sophisticated male voice made him uncomfortable. He quickly realized why so many people went with the female setting.

  The billowing clouds of smoke that poured from the hull of the ship made the damage appear much worse than it actually was. Jak hopped up onto the loading ramp and opened the thick pressure sealed door, releasing a toxic plume of smoke into his face. He was greeted by the Tempest, over an integrated speaker.

  “Greetings Captain ... Minor damage logged ... Systems eighty percent functional ... Navigation data bank down ... Weapon systems down.”

  “Looks like the damage is a bit more than minor,” said Baxter, observing the craft as he heaved himself up on to the ramp and into the smoke-filled hallway. The odour of burnt metal and circuit boards stung their nostrils.

  “Data has been verified.” Baxter rolled his eyes as the computer felt the need to let him know he was wrong.

  Jak entered the corridor and took a quick look around before activating a computer panel on the wall ahead of him. The screen came to life and supplied Jak with the information he needed, regarding the key areas of the ship.

  “Looks like Murdock just took a few shots in the dark,” said Jak while he reviewed a few more reports. “Nothing major was hit. A few hull punctures and some fire. Most of the smoke we saw was the extinguisher system putting out the fire and venting it outside.” He turned to face Baxter. “Our lucky day.”

  Baxter made his way up to the cockpit in the front of the ship so he could review the full diagnostics on his main system. He fell into his worn leather chair and punched a few buttons on his console. The comfort of the thick padding on the chair was quite welcome after a morning of lying around on rock.

  In a few seconds he had pulled up an entire graphic layout of the ship, with the damaged areas indicated in red. Jak never could understand how Baxter whipped through the perplexity of the ship’s operating system. Jak tried to avoid computers in general as often as he could, but on the ship it was a whole different situation. The ship’s core computer was obsolete — as were many of its interfaced parts. Several generations of technology came together to make the Tempest’s heart beat. Its systems were mixed, matched, spliced and forced to work together. Any sane starship repairman, who didn’t know Jak, would take one look at the ship and walk away, unwilling to become involved in the flying disaster it appeared to be. Baxter had helped Jak make several additions to the ship and had practically rewritten half the software code.

  “We’ve got a problem,” said Baxter while he continued analyzing the computer logs. “The holes in the hull we can fix for now, but the thrusters are showing a power displacement, a few of the structural support beams are showing serious signs of stress and the weapon systems are toast.”

  “Can we fix it?”

  “Not here. We can get it started and get into the air, but the ship’s not going to be able to handle the stress of re-entering an atmosphere until some thorough repairs are done. The weapon systems look basically shot. We’ve fried them one too many times.”

  “So it will still fly,” said Jak.

  “After we fix the navigation system it will, but not well. The computer may say it is not that big a deal, but I don’t exactly like the idea of flying around in a spaceship with holes in it.”

  “Data has been verified,” interrupted the Tempest.

  Jak rolled his eyes and Baxter shook his head. They realized the computer system was likely right, but it may have been working with a different standard of what was safe and acceptable. They never had been able to figure out if the ship was even capable of determining the status of several of the components, which had come from other ships, or were made nearly from scratch. They decided to leave this unstated for now, to avoid any more of the ship’s verbal feedback.

  “Okay then,” decided Jak. “Let’s just get done what we can while we’re here, then we’ll head out to Rusty’s.”

  The appearance of the ship showed Jak’s love of aged technology. It was a classic RS315 on the outside with the additions of pieces of other ships mounted internally and externally. However, it was not an ugly piece of machinery. The ship had many curves and rounded edges in a time when sleek angular edges were all the rage. The hull was thick steel with dotted borders of rivet lines. It was heavy, but strong, unlike the modern ships which would break in two if you touched them the wrong way. Jak respected the ship and took care of it the best he could. It just happened that every time he would get it just the way he wanted it, a laser blast would take off a component or two.

  The Tempest was designed as a cargo transport ship and was large enough to hold a crew of ten. Even with just the two of them, most of the extra space had been used up. Engine enhancements eliminated several crew cabins and storage for their collection of equipment and salvaged items used up most of the others. Jak didn’t throw much away, so upon first glance most people would consider the ship to be a disorganized mess of junk. Jak had a pretty good mental organization system to keep track of the rooms full of planetary knick-knacks and collectibles. He had learned long ago that you will always need something the moment you throw it in the garbage.

  Jak and Baxter kept the two largest rooms for their personal quarters — neither of them being allowed in the other’s room. The center of the ship contained the common room, with its actual name depending on its current use. This room was an area in which to kick back and relax or to plan out the next money making scheme in comfort.

  Jak’s on-board bar was the envy of everyone who came aboard. He had designed the cabinets with magnetic steel and clear plexus doors to prevent the spillage and breakage of the precious spirits, while maintaining a decent visual representation of the selection. It was stocked with bottles of various beverages from various worlds; some good, some bad, mostly stolen.

  They recently picked up a small thermal water-jet relaxation pool and installed in the center of the room, in lieu of cash owed to them by the Prince of Shalen. Jak and Baxter had successfully finished a job for him before he contracted an extreme case of payment amnesia, due to his King’s request that the prince immediately discontinue dealings with ‘less-than-desirable’ types. Jak understood and had decided to help the prince again by cleaning out his fancy lake house. Thus came the thermal pool and various other products of which their aristocratic purposes remained lost on the simple natures of the shipmates.

  The combination of the tub and the bar also made this the ideal room for the entertainment of any ladies who might come their way. In the all too common event that these ladies didn’t show up, it was also a great room to drown your sorrows in before the next job. Neither Jak nor Baxter could ever really figure out how to get the tub working, so it sat — empty of water, but filled with engine parts.

  “See what you can do with the navigation system and get us a course plotted,” said Jak, “I’m gonna go do some welding.”

  Baxter nodded, turned to his console and hit a few keys. Jak turned around and headed out of the cockpit.

  “So when you’re welding this time can you try to avoid the fuel lines?” said Baxter, still facing the computer screen and observing some code.

  Jak paused just outside the doorway and winced, recalling the issue of the minor fire he had started a while back, which seemed to be brought up quite frequently. He reluctantly absorbed the friendly abuse and restarted his trip to the equipment room.

  For the next couple of hours they worked on the Tempest, welding in a few temporary panels over the blast holes and fixing anything else they could. How well these spots were go
ing to look and function in the long run depended greatly upon their finances. When they reached Rusty’s they would need to have their shoddy patches fixed professionally.

  Neither of them was amazingly skilled with repairs. With Jak’s short attention span, he usually gave up on these types of boring tasks. Baxter’s strength lied in the theory of a repair and not in the actual manual labour itself.

  The inside of the ship was an oven. Baxter had been forced to disable the air conditioning system in order to save power. The sweltering heat of the desert climate, combined with the heat generated from the welding, had made them both sweaty, dirty, frustrated and exhausted.

  An indicator light above the master flight controls began to flash red, pulling Baxter's focus off his work. He swivelled his chair around and activated another small computer screen, followed by the ship-wide intercom.

  “Jak,” said Baxter, “You might want to come up here. We’ve got a proximity sensor going off.”

  The Tempest's sensors had a limited ability to pick up readings on other vessels. It wasn’t as sophisticated as the complete radar detection systems in modern ships, but would give them the basic sizes and ranges of incoming objects. Jak figured that since it sometimes couldn’t tell the difference between a ship and an asteroid, it would help them hone their skills.

  Jak quickly made his way to the front of the ship. He wiped the sweat and black dirt from his brow and wiped his hands on a rag.

  Jak moved in beside Baxter and analyzed the screen. “Looks like three really small vessels."

  “You think it’s a glitch?” asked Baxter.

  The ship did not enjoy having its data critiqued. “Three confirmed objects approaching from south—”

  “Temporarily disable vocal feedback,” said Baxter. It was hard enough making decisions with Jak, without the interference of an overconfident computer system.

  “I don’t think so,” said Jak, “but this isn’t exactly a tourist area.”

  “What’s the chance there are more fools like us out here in this desert?” Baxter had learned that Jak’s intuition and experience could be just as useful as the computer’s information.

  “I’ll guarantee you that Murdock called in a few favours on his way out of here. Either that or he dropped an anonymous tip with one of the local gangs.”

  “They’re coming up really fast,” said Baxter, “Probably one-seaters.”

  “Start the engines,” said Jak. He dropped down into his pilot chair and started flicking switches. He flipped on the aft monitor to get a video view from the back of the ship.

  “Are we even done our repairs yet?” asked Baxter. He wasn’t yet confident in the Tempest’s ability to function correctly.

  “No, but I’m not gonna wait around here to find out who these guys are.”

  “Maybe they aren’t looking for a fight. They might be able to help us fix the ship.”

  The deep thud nearly knocked Jak out of his seat and was followed closely by a blast of sand thrown over the cockpit window.

  “Unless they’re gonna help us fix the ship with rocket launchers, you may want to start the engines,” said Jak. “And fast,” he added.

  Baxter started throwing switches as fast as he could. The surface engines sputtered a few times and caught, comforting them both with the low hum and faint rumble through the hull of the craft. The ship shook again, not from the engine start-up procedure, but from a laser blast.

  “They’re closing fast,” said Baxter, “and our hull is already starting to show weakening at the break points.”

  Jak steadied himself at the flight controls but did not move the ship even as they were rocked by another laser blast. The three small crafts came in to view on the aft monitor. It was definitely a group of three one-man-crafts, piloted by some cut-throat pirates. Murdock had probably contacted them and offered a bounty.

  “Are we leaving?” asked Baxter, panicked at the apparent lack of response from Jak.

  “Hold on to something.”

  Baxter held on to his console. Another blast hit the ship.

  “Ready.”

  A laser blast hit the sand and caused a muffled explosion, crystallizing the sand into glass and sprinkling it on the metal hull. The three all-terrain-vehicles were very close. Jak studied the viewer. He brought the engines to full power, but had secured the braking system. The powerful engines whined at the stress of restraining their own force.

  The ship rocked again as the three riders were mere meters from the rear of the ship, slowing down in preparation for a close confrontation. He could see the riders in detail now. Zeldoks –- cold-hearted and vicious.

  In less than a second, Jak pulled the pitch control lever to its maximum and pushed the throttle to full power. He released the braking system, allowing the heavy engines to expel their full energy. The ship lurched up in the front and down in the back with a fierce strength. Jak nearly fell out of his seat as he fought to grasp the pitch control to straighten the craft out. He barely reached it, narrowly stopping the ship from doing a three hundred and sixty degree turn, end over end.

  The resulting expulsion of energy directed at the ground dislodged the soil and shot up a massive wave of sand from the rear of the ship. While the Tempest made a speedy departure, the three approaching pirate riders were swamped by sand and tossed off their speeders. They were thrown blindly into each other and onto the ground a couple of meters from where the ship had been.

  Jak watched the aft viewer as they quickly left them in the distance. He could vaguely make out the three figures and their crafts as the dust cloud settled. Two of the men got up and jumped back on their sand logged ATVs. One did not.

  Baxter was wedged between the edge of his seat and a wall, with his head near the wall and his feet on the chair. He struggled out of the awkward position to figure out what was going on. Jak looked back at him with a double take.

  “I told you to hold on,” he said, annoyed at both the situation and Baxter.

  “Yeah, well I didn’t expect we’d be doing somersaults on takeoff,” said Baxter, regaining his composure and getting back into his flight chair. “I think I just broke my back.”

  “Warm up the sub-orbital thrusters, we’ve gotta get out of here quick,” said Jak, “Two of those riders are still following even after I buried them. Murdock must be offering them a lot of cash. Or, he told them we have something really good.”

  Jak moved The Tempest along at a quick pace only a few meters off the flat desert landscape. They would make a vertical climb once the thrusters were online and then make their way out of the atmosphere. The Zeldoks’ all-terrain-vehicles were open cockpit surface craft, making it impossible for them to follow.

  A blue light on the control panel lit up, indicating that the main thrusters were ready for a take off and an attempt at entering space. Jak looked again at the aft monitor and saw that the two remaining riders were again gaining speed and closing in on their ship. Jak hit a few switches and pulled the shifter to kick in the thrusters. They both unconsciously stabilized themselves, aware from past experience of the G-force generated when the sub-orbital thrusters came online.

  Jak looked at Baxter and confirmed silently that they both had in fact not felt any change in speed. While they were still moving along the planet’s surface at high speed, the thrusters necessary for breaking through the planet’s atmosphere had not come online. A laser blast hit the ship and rocked it violently, causing it to list to the side and shave the abrasive surface.

  “Computer, what is the status of the sub-orbital thruster system?” shouted Jak to the Tempest.

  “System is online and active,” the computer replied. Another blast hit the ship, causing several warning lights to sparkle.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Jak. Baxter was already flying through the system looking for a software glitch.

  “I don’t know,” said Baxter. “The ship thinks the systems are active, but they definitely aren’t coming online.”

/>   A harsh beep sounded and the message, ‘System is online and active,’ was displayed on the communication panel, as the ship stood by its findings and technically obeyed its command to disable verbal feedback.

  “You’re gonna have to go in the back and check the engine system. I’ll try to get us out of this. These Zeldoks are quick, so you’d better get a move on.”

  Jak veered the ship hard to the right making a ninety degree course change. While the responsive ATVs were easily able to keep up, it bought Jak a couple of seconds free from gunfire. Baxter pulled himself up out of his seat and headed down the corridor.

  The main engines were spread through several cramped rooms. Baxter squeezed his way into the bay housing the suspected defective components. In the cockpit, Jak made another quick manoeuvre, sending Baxter tumbling into a parts cabinet. He bounced off and flopped onto the floor as the parts cabinet dumped its contents onto Baxter. Stumbling to his feet, he shook a few nuts and bolts from the folds in his clothing as he realized he would also need to review the data on his console in the cockpit, to see if any of his changes were taking effect.

  “Jak, can you hear me?” came Baxter’s voice over the intercom.

  Jak confirmed that he indeed could.

  “I’m going need you to check a few things on the computer for—”

  Jak heard Baxter go crashing into something metallic as he made another fast turn to avoid a few large boulders on the surface. It sounded like he was throwing around steel pots and pans. Jak winced for either the thought of what Baxter was crashing into or the annoyance of the loud noise.

  Baxter was barely able to squeeze himself in and out of the various metal and plastic outcroppings of the engine components, but was narrowing down his search for the problem. Another laser blast jarred the ship, knocking his head through a thin aluminum cooling duct.

  In the cockpit, Jak surveyed his surroundings. Another rocky canyon snaked its way through the sand not far ahead. This would be his opportunity to shake the pursuers.

  Jak swung the craft around and lined up in a cross-path. Approaching the canyon at high speed, he drew the two pirates along with him.

  A mere seconds before the ledge, Jak dropped the rear of the ship dangerously close to the surface, into the sand, drawing up another cloud of sand and debris behind him. He allowed the front of the ship to pitch up and go end over end, doubling back on their route while turning the ship upside down, allowing the pirates to pass underneath. Over the noise of Baxter’s bumbling destruction in the engine room, Jak was able to quickly spin the ship back into a correct heading and make a quick turn to the left.

  The riders emerged from the dust cloud, unprepared for the canyon ahead. Looking in the aft viewer, Jak observed a small explosion as the fuel filled crafts collided into the solid rock wall of the crevice.

  Baxter sat up from the floor of the engine room and got himself to his feet. He came to the realization that he was at least twice the size he should be to be even moderately comfortable working in that room with its narrow clearances and delicate components. He kicked a path back to the engine system through the junk, tools and broken parts covering the floor. “I think I may have broken more than I fixed back here, but I think I’ve found the problem,” Baxter said to Jak over the intercom.

  “Good. Fix it up so we can get out of here.”

  “What does it say in the input matrix field on my screen?”

  Jak shifted over to Baxter’s console while trying to keep an eye on the route ahead.

  “Point six three,” said Jak, “I think.” He shifted back over to the center of the cockpit.

  “How ‘bout now?”

  Jak rolled his eyes and shifted back over to Baxter’s area.

  “Point six eight.” As Jak moved back over to his position he passed the aft viewer, catching the sight of the small dark spot on the horizon behind them. Zeldoks were persistent.

  “Baxter, hurry up; there’s one left.”

  “Just hold on, I’m trying.” A laser blast from the pirate’s craft skimmed the ship, interrupting Baxter’s work once again.

  The pursuer was gaining distance even quicker than before. The chase had likely turned into a vendetta for him, due to the loss of his two comrades. He began delivering more frequent energy blasts into the hull of the Tempest. The Zeldok no longer wanted to loot the ship — he wanted them dead.

  “Try it,’ said Baxter over the ‘com.

  Jak hit the ignition and eased the throttle back.

  “Nothing,” said Jak. He could also now clearly make out an LHC missile attached to the all terrain vehicle. If the irate mercenary decided to lose his cool and launch the banned weapon, they would all be vaporized.

  Jak saw the Zeldok reach down the side of his craft, trying to disconnect the safety clamp on the deadly projectile only meters away from the rear of the Tempest.

  “Try it again,” said Baxter.

  Jak intensely repeated the procedure and forced the throttle back.

  This time, the engines boomed and the velocity of the spacecraft tripled. Jak arched the ship upward from the baked surface of the planet toward the dead cold of space. A shockwave from below rumbled his ship slightly, but within a few moments they were ten kilometres in the sky, heading for the troposphere.

  Jak figured the pirate had chosen to test his own luck by getting ridiculously close to a powerful engine exhaust system. His luck had run completely out the moment Baxter corrected the problems with the system. The heat of the engines incinerated both the mercenary and his vehicle, which in turn detonated his LHC missile. The crystallized glass crater—all that was left of the Zeldok mercenary—would soon be filled with blown sand and forgotten forever.