AMP Messenger

  Chapter 7

  _______________________

  The Messenger business continued to grow at a torrid pace. We jetted straight for the Gonk system and the pirate stalking grounds. Once out of sensor range, we would turn, going around the hostile space, cruising at our top speed to make up for the time lost. To an observer on either end of the journey, it looked as though we were flying straight through the worst part of the system. Inhibitor fields were frequent around Gonk, sometimes stretching out a quarter light-year’s distance.

  After a four-day run to grid 987, a run that normally took three weeks, we were slated to pick up a delivery for the admiral. I grew uncomfortable when we arrived at the designated destination only to find a Durian ship waiting. A Durian warship, to my prior knowledge, had only been a thing of rumor.

  The ship was jet black with features like an evil bird I remembered seeing in the Grid archives as a kid. It was a vulture with a nasty look to it. The four forward and two aft ion cannons were mounted on massive turrets that would provide the ship with coverage in any direction. The ship was the size of the Ranger, but her firepower was far beyond that of the Grid frigate.

  We received orders to pull around to the port-side docking bay and were soon setting down on the deck. I had never seen a Durian soldier before. As the door to the Swift opened, four Durian Helgrons stepped up to escort us to our prearranged meeting with an officer of their fleet. The Helgrons wore jet-black, armored exo-suits and carried strange-looking ion blasters. The dark tint on their helmet masks was intimidating. Only an insane person would have interest in ever meeting a Durian in battle.

  We were escorted to a conference room and asked to be seated at a table. The Durian officer came through the door several minutes later. His black uniform fit tightly on his tall, thin, but muscular, torso, giving the impression of someone who was in good physical condition. He sat down at the table, directly across from us.

  “Mr. Grange, I am here as a representative of the Durian people. This meeting was not my choice. The High Council of Elders, however, thought otherwise. As I am sure you know, the Durian home world is not located in this sector. I am not at liberty to discuss that fact any further; however, the coming Milgari war will have an effect on our trade, and as such, has been deemed of a priority interest to the Council.”

  The Durian had an annoyed look on his scaly blue face. “We have been following the workings of your Admiral Zimmerman and, as a result of the coming war, have taken an interest in his... shall we say, success. I have been authorized by the Council to make a technology transfer to your Admiral. This technology will be immensely helpful to your species in the coming war.”

  The Durian pulled out a data cube and set it on the table in front of us. “This cube contains the plans for a charge-dampening system for your ship hulls. It will dissipate approximately half of the charge from a direct hit of a Milgari reaction cannon, a weapon used against your ships in the last war with devastating effectiveness.”

  The Durian leaned toward us. “I am not comfortable with this technology transfer, Mr. Grange, but my government feels that it is necessary to maintain a power balance. The cube is encrypted. Your Admiral has the codes to unlock it. If tampered with, the data will be corrupted to the point of being useless. We have also taken the precaution of adding a validity timer to it. In four days, the data will be scrambled beyond retrieval. Make sure your Admiral gets the cube intact, Mr. Grange. The technology will not be offered again.”

  The officer rose and left the room. The Helgrons gestured with their blasters for us to make haste back to the Swift. I felt a sense of relief when we lifted out of the port docking bay. The Durians were not a friendly people. I had the feeling the Durian officer we had met was on his best behavior for our visit. For relations toward Humans, that was not the norm.

  Frig leaned over the console. “Sir, I think we may have a problem. The validity timer on that cube expires in ninety-six hours. I mapped the course to the admiral's facilities. At top speed, it will take us sixty-eight hours, twelve minutes.”

  I pushed the throttle to full and looked at Frig. “Well, there we go. We'll have one day, three hours, and forty-eight minutes to goof off, then. What would you propose we do with that time?”

  Frig looked back with consternation. “Sir, our speed is not the problem. We will be passing through grid 1108, through the Fasture nebula. The Fasture nebula is known for its negative ionic fluctuations that sometimes emanate as a series of waves. Our engines, no matter how aligned, may stall if we were to be hit by one of those waves.”

  I turned back toward the nav console to plot a new course. “Well, fine then, we’ll just go around.” Frig waited patiently for my reaction. “Hmm. Looks like that will place us half an hour late. How about this way... hmm.”

  Frig turned toward me. “Is there a problem, sir? Perhaps we are going to have to alter a different part of the course?”

  I looked over the waypoints that Frig had entered. There was only one set that was not at the optimum, the set that traveled around the Gonk system.

  I looked back at Frig. “You have any other suggestions? I would almost rather take my chances with the nebula.”

  Frig shook his wide head. “I'm sorry; sir... the only way we can ensure that we arrive on time is through the Gonk system. I have been studying up on the inhibitor field, sir. I believe I can alter one of our enviro-sensors to detect it. The speed we will be traveling at, however, may cause a problem. By the time the sensor gain rises to a level that I would argue means detection, we may not be able to correct our course in time. I have run the rudimentary calculations on the probability, if you would like to hear them... sir.”

  I punched in the waypoint alterations for a path through the Gonk system. “Of course you have run the calculations. It's what you do. What is it, 22 percent, 44.8 percent? Does it even matter?”

  As Frig began to reply, I raised my hand with the palm facing him. “Don't answer. I'm sure it's not a number I would like anyway. Get to work on your sensor. We'll be needing it tomorrow.”

  The following day we entered the pirate stronghold. Our ride through the field-infested stretch of space would take us sixteen hours. Frig had worked feverishly on the inhibitor field detector, but was unsure of its reliability. We would soon find out if it would be effective.

  Our sensors had picked up two small ships on the outskirts of the known pirate area, likely pickets, parked for the purpose of keeping tabs on all ships that entered the space surrounding the Gonk system. I hoped our signal inhibitor system had done its job in keeping us from being detected, as our visual signature was still small. We had not detected any broadcasts from those ships since our passing.

  We journeyed into the fray for nearly two hours before Frig's sensor began to give readings. The numbers were unreliable and seemed to fade in and out as we moved forward. That is, until they went full tilt.

  Frig yelled, “Sir, I suggest we bank hard left immediately! There is a field directly in our path with the capacity to halt our forward progress!”

  I pulled the joystick toward a new heading, but the speed at which we were traveling made the turn a slow, wide arc. The numbers on Frig's sensor continued to climb.

  “Sir, we are now right on the edge of the field. We will begin to see a reduction in speed very soon unless you are able to steer us away from this. The field appears to be wide, and we were about to hit it almost dead center. We should begin to feel the effects in five... four... three... two... one...”

  The Swift began to slow rapidly as she arced into the turn. The field prevented the normal attraction of an ionic charge, which in turn made most engines useless. At the same time, the field worked to hold a ship in place due to a reversal of those same ionic forces. It was the pirates’ most prized technology, and therefore their most highly guarded secret. Our science had not yet been able to understand how it worked beyond the most rudimentary principles. Our forward progress quickly dropped below light
speed, and we soon found ourselves at a full stop.

  “This is bad, very bad, Frig. I hope you have a few more tricks up your sleeve. If so, now would be a good time to use them. I'm detecting the movement of three pirate cruisers. It will take them half a day to get here, as they are using conventional engines, so we have approximately eleven hours to figure this thing out. Tell me you have some ideas.”

  Frig continued to work at his console as I got up and paced the cockpit floor. We were sitting still as the enemy approached. It was an enemy that was merciless, and we had invaded their space. Our ion engines and our stealth ion cannon were useless so long as the inhibitor field was enabled. Our only meager defense was the peashooter coil gun that we used for destroying small debris when flying at speed. I was not looking forward to an encounter.

  I stopped and looked over Frig's shoulder. “What do you have for us?”

  He continued to punch keys on his console. “I am attempting to tune the sensor modifications to better detect the field next time. If we are caught in it, as we are now, I can only assume they will move other ships in, and new fields will be established around us should we somehow escape this one.”

  I understood the importance of the detector, but I was unhappy with his reasoning. “So, you're working on the sensor while we sit here already trapped in this field? Don't you think it would be a better effort to try to get us out of this first? We have three cruisers bearing down on our position and we can't move. What am I missing here?”

  Frig stopped his typing and turned toward me. “Sir, I do not have a solution to our current dilemma, because I do not have an understanding of how the inhibitor works. If I can improve my sensor, I should be able to gain some insight into possible fixes to our problem. But I first have to gain that understanding... sir.”

  Frig turned back and continued to type on his console keyboard. I returned to my pacing. First six, then eight hours passed without a solution to our dilemma. The pirate cruisers closed to within three hours of our position. They were now visible on our optical sensors.

  “Those things don't look too friendly, Frig. Looks like they are packing coil guns and missiles while in the field. Those weapons are pretty useless except for extremely close range. But close range is exactly where we are going to be in a couple hours. You sure we can't just throw these engines in reverse and back out of here?”

  Frig stopped his typing and stared at his console. “Sir... are you suggesting we reverse the ionic charge of our engines? That would normally not be possible... but with the alignment and the feed modifications we added to her... there is a possibility...”

  Frig turned back to his console and began to punch keys at a feverish pace. He was on to something, something that might just get our butts out of the sling we were in.

  I replied, “Tell me what you got, my friend, tell me what I can do to help.”

  Frig stopped his typing. “You can start by letting go of my shoulder, sir. Your grip is a bit uncomfortable. As far as help, you can get six inverter coils from our parts stock. Separate the ones with the 12KV ratings, as they will not work. If we can reverse the ion flow by use of the inverters, we might be able to do exactly as you said, sir — run our engines in reverse. The power generated will be limited, but it should be sufficient to move us toward the field's edge. We won't know if we can reach that goal before the pirates arrive unless we have actually started to move. That is, if we move at all.”

  I ran to the parts storage and began to sort through the cabinets. “Frig! Where do you keep the coils?”

  He responded quickly: "Cabinet C, third shelf, right-hand side, second box."

  I pulled the box and began sorting through the coils within. Three minutes later I had identified five of the necessary coils.

  I yelled back, “We only have five of the inverter coils! Can we do it with five?”

  Frig responded, “Sir, I show six of those 22F coils in my inventory. Please look again.”

  I dug into the box and removed the other adjacent boxes to continue the search. After another five frantic minutes, I looked up at the wall in front of me.

  I again yelled, “Frig! I don't think we have six of the coils anymore.”

  Again Frig responded, this time with an irritated voice. “Sir, my inventory shows six. Please look again.”

  I walked up behind him with the five inverter coils in hand. “We only have five. It's been about six months, but I remember Mark Powell coming over while we were parked at Alpha Bay on the Grid. He was asking for a 22F. Things were going well, and I thought it might be a good gesture on our part to help out a fellow pilot. He was under a deadline, so I did him a favor. We only have five.”

  Frig let out a sigh and then turned back to his console. “We will have to improvise for the sixth. Get me four of the 12KV coils. We will also need about six feet of tunneling cable and a dozen 12G splices. Take those parts and set them next to the engine feed deck plate, along with my blue toolbox. You are going to have to stuff yourself down in the hole one more time, sir.”

  As I worked to remove the feeds, Frig welded the four low-level inverters into a single configuration. I passed each feed up to him and the inverter was installed within a few minutes. The last upgraded feed was bolted into place with only half an hour to spare.

  I said. “The pirate cruisers are big. And they have fighters attached to their sides. I count about thirty per cruiser. If we don't get moving, they're going to be all over us.”

  Frig sat at his console, again punching keys wildly. “I have to reprogram the feeds for the inverse flow, sir. Without some automatic governance, they will overheat in a matter of minutes, leaving us without engines at all. One thing we have not discussed, sir... what do we do if they actually catch us? We cannot allow this drive technology to fall into their hands.”

  It was a point I had not contemplated — and it was not only the drive technology we had to protect. We had Grid military computers, active Tantric armor, and a host of other updates that could give the pirates a formidable force. We already had one war to contend with. A second war would be one that we could not win.

  I replied, “I'd rather not discuss that possibility at the moment. Don't want it to interfere with my thought processes. That decision can be made when the battle is over. With luck, we won't have to deal with that eventuality. How's that drive coming?”

  Frig continued with his efforts. “We should have an answer in ten minutes, sir. The reversal will either happen and build up to a level that will allow us to move, or it will fail, and we will be faced with another engine fire... sir.”

  I sat in my pilot's chair and rocked back and forth as I swiveled. “Well, I guess we've done our best. Either you get us out of this fix... or we die. I would hate it if the last thing you ever accomplished was to get us killed.”

  Frig turned with indignation. “You always know just the wrong thing to say at the wrong time, don't you, sir. I'm doing my—”

  I cut him off. “Relax. Keep your hair on. You've never let us down before, and you won't do it this time. Spin back around and finish the job so we can get out of here.”

  Several minutes later the modifications were complete.

  Frig said. “Sir, please bring the initiator setting up to 12 percent. And set the coordinates for a waypoint to the closest edge of the inhibitor field.”

  I did as instructed and was soon rewarded with four green indicators on the console.

  Frig continued, “Now, please move the throttle to 8 percent and monitor the temperature change of the feeds. If any temperature rises above 15 percent of normal, please let me know as quickly as possible.”

  The adjustments were made and the ship began to move… slowly. I let out a cheer of celebration.

  Frig shook his head. “Sir, I would not be celebrating just yet. Unless we can achieve a significant enough speed, those cruisers are going to be upon us. When we exit the field, they will be able to return to their ion engines while we will have to re
configure ours.”

  I reported status of the temperatures, and kept any further smart remarks to myself. I needed Frig's full attention on the task at hand if we were to have a chance. The temperatures remained in the normal range until we had reached the edge of the inhibitor field. I was then stuffed back down in the deck plate hole, attempting to undo the modifications we had only just installed.

  I quickly had four of the six feeds reconfigured when Frig reported on the pirates’ status. “Sir, we have sixty-five fighters bearing down upon our position. They will be within five kilometers of the Swift in fifty-two seconds. Please hurry, sir. we don't have much time.”

  I yelled back from the hole, “Well, buy us some time, then. We are out of that field, so make use of that ion cannon. We can suck up a few hits from those fighters. It's the cruisers I'm worried about.”

  Frig replied, “Very well, sir. You have approximately four minutes and eighteen seconds before the cruisers are in firing range. Please hurry.”

  “I'm on the last one now. Just buy us those few minutes I asked for. If I can just get this one bolt in... Grrrrr! Gaw! Dropped it! Get me a new number fifty-seven bolt! The old one is wedged just out of reach!”

  Frig raced to the parts bin and quickly retrieved the bolt as the first of the fighters opened fire.

  The pings from the coil guns soon turned to thuds from their small ion cannons. Our active Tantric armor was more than a match for the fighters’ weapons. But there was a problem. With each strike from a cannon, the hull of the Swift jerked hard, making it nearly impossible for me to place the final bolt in its hole.

  “Frig! Clear those things off us! I can't get that bolt started with all the bouncing around!”

  I heard the first of the ion rounds leaving our military-grade cannon. One of the fighters exploded, the others quickly scattered. “Got it! Hallelujah! We are back in business, boys! Give me five more turns and then punch it up.”

  “Go, go, go!”

  Frig began pushing buttons on the console as the fighters converged for another attack. I slammed myself down in my pilot’s chair and took control of the cannon. Seconds later, another fighter exploded in a bright flash as the ion charge incinerated its hull.

  As the Swift began to move, Frig said, “Sir, I'm afraid we are going to take some hits from those cruisers. Our charge is not going to build fast enough to keep us out of their range.”

  I blasted a second and then a third fighter as I responded. “You just keep that throttle at full and let me worry about those cruisers. If I can get in a few well-placed shots with this cannon, they're going to back off. I have a hard time believing they would risk a cruiser on a little bucket like this. If I can take out one of those—”

  The Swift rocked hard and jerked violently as the first of the pirate cannon rounds impacted the hull. Smoke began to billow out of the enviro-recycler. Frig scrambled for the helmets as I fired off three pulses at the nearest cruiser. One was a direct hit on a forward turret. The other two sank into her hull, where the ensuing damage was not apparent.

  The Swift continued to accelerate as a second round slammed into our hull. Again the ship shifted wildly, knocking Frig from his feet as he carried the helmets. His own helmet slipped from his hand as he tried to steady himself. It clanged hard as it bounced on the deck plating before starting its roll toward the back of the hold.

  The ship’s interior continued to fill with smoke from the damaged recycler. As I fired another ion round, Frig plopped a helmet in my lap and then returned to retrieve his own.

  I snapped the helmet in place as a third pirate round struck the Swift. When the air in my helmet cleared, I turned to look for Frig. He had disappeared into the smoke.

  “Hey, you OK back there? Frig?”

  I snapped off two final rounds as our speed matched that of the lead cruiser. The first round struck her broadside, while the second clipped an array of antennae off her nose. The cruiser quickly dropped back from the battle.

  Seconds later we began to pull away and were soon out of range of the remaining cruiser's weapons. We had escaped! I jumped up from my chair and raced through the smoke in search of my friend. I found him unconscious on the deck, his helmet in his hand.

  “Hang on, buddy, I'll get this thing on you and you'll be breathing fresh air in no time. Don't worry about the repairs, that recycler isn't going anywhere. I can handle it if need be.”

  As the helmet snapped in place, the air behind the face shield quickly cleared. I was soon rewarded with the sounds of a live but coughing Gambit. I carried him forward and set him upright in his chair before returning to the hold to deal with the enviro-recycler.

  The burned circuits were removed and I began the search for spares. Twenty minutes later the air inside the Swift began to clear. I set new waypoints and reviewed the calculated trip time. We would not make it to the admiral's facility in time. Our plans would again have to change.