AMP Messenger

by Stephen Arseneault

  Chapter 2

  _______________________

  Frig continued to drop matrix probes every few hours. The third sensor tagged the Delta Runner with a visual confirmation, giving us a tail number. Frig ran it through our less-than-lawful database of ships.

  “Sir, I believe we might have a problem with the Delta who is following us. The number displayed does not match up with the ship directory.”

  I replied, “And what does that tell us?”

  Frig continued to peruse the data. “Well, sir. it generally means that the ship is being used for another purpose entirely. We really only have one of two options. It is either owned by a wealthy individual who likes to take chances with his money by flagging the ship as something that it is not, or it is property of SCore.”

  Again, I rolled my eyes. The job was getting worse by the minute. If SCore was involved, we would likely be heading to the Grid's prison. It was not a friendly place. If, on the other hand, the Delta was being operated by a crew functioning outside of the law, we were being set up for a good ol’ galactic mugging. I wondered which game we were in for.

  While Frig was busy with his observation of our tracker, I continued to dig deep into the EID document I had purchased. I entered the parts required to build an EID into the ship’s computer. A quick inventory check had the answer to a question I had been asking myself: would we have the parts on board required to construct an EID?

  “Frig,” I said, “I have a new task for you. This is something you are really going to enjoy, my friend. It's an enhancement that could make our troubles go away, if we are able to put it in place quickly. Have a look at this design and tell me what you think.”

  With that I handed the document over for evaluation. If there was an engineer in the galaxy who could pull off building the contraption in that document, that engineer would be Frig.

  Grid 279 would take a full day to cross before reaching the outer edge of the galaxy. I settled in for a nice game of Bollox against the ship's computer as Frig disappeared into the hold. He would begin his study by gathering the parts on the list. That task would be followed by arranging them neatly on the floor in a pattern. It would give him insight as to how the device worked. I could almost see the little wheels turning in his wide, flat brain.

  As he sat on the deck, I returned my focus to the task at hand. Bollox was a game of skill and timing. I flew a simulated version of the Swift through a number of scenarios where I was tasked with anything from gathering intel to fighting for my life. Frig never understood the draw of the game, but it was addictive. I sometimes played for hours on end when on a long run. Frig preferred to remain productive.

  I attempted on more than one occasion to express to him that the practice I received while running the game would assist in the alignment of my thought processes should I encounter similar situations during our travels. He was not a believer in my methods.

  As I lifted off from the Grid on my first Bollox mission, a proximity alert sounded, interrupting the game. We were only four hours from the ion wall, and a second ship was fast approaching.

  Frig said. “Sir, initial sensor scans are pointing to a rather large ship approaching.”

  I looked over my shoulder as I exited the game. “How big are we talking, container ship or battle cruiser?”

  Frig hesitated before he responded. “Think bigger, sir... much bigger.”

  There were only two ships bigger than a battle cruiser. The first was a mining-colony ore hauler, the other was a full-on Grid military battleship... a Dearth-class Disruptor. A Disruptor was the flagship of each of the twenty Grid fleets. Its shielding, weapons, and speed were unmatched by any other vessel the Grid had previously encountered. The ship was expensive; only those twenty Disruptors existed. The fact that it was traveling hurriedly in our direction... was not a good sign.

  I adjusted our course, placing us on a direct path to the ion wall. I had no desire to enter the massive field of supercharged particles, but I would if I had no choice. The Disruptor quickly changed course to match our trajectory. The sensor information we had gathered over the few minutes of contact confirmed our suspicions that this was not a chance encounter. No flagship would ever travel without its entourage of support vessels. This Disruptor traveled alone.

  When the next signal was emitted from the container we carried, the Delta Runner changed course in our direction and then slowed to a stop. It seemed the appearance of the Disruptor was not something they had planned for. They would remain in position, silent and unknown to the massive ship.

  I walked back into the hold where Frig had an array of parts laid out neatly on the deck. “How's it looking? Did I blow 2,500 credits on a scam or what?”

  Frig moved several parts and then picked up one in particular, holding it up in front of his face. “It is actually a fascinating concept, sir. The ionized particles are first fully eviscerated and then spread into a completely random arrangement before being forced into a collateralized matrix the likes of which I have never seen.”

  I replied, “Can you put that in layman's terms for me, you know, so the other people on the ship can understand?”

  I was no slouch when it came to understanding ship mechanics; I just needed to have it spelled out in my own vernacular.

  Frig responded, “We should be able to use one-third of the ionized particles to achieve the same output thrust we enjoy today, or we can send a full stream of particles through our ion engines, yielding a threefold increase in speed, theoretically speaking, of course.”

  I leaned over, placing my hands on my knees as I looked over the arrangement of parts on the floor. “You have all the parts. How long do you think it would take to put that thing together and get it installed? And is there anything I can do to speed the process? Because I don't think we have a lot of free time left on our hands. That Disruptor will be all over us in a couple hours.”

  Frig again moved several parts around on the deck before picking another up. He stared intently at the part with one corner of his mouth turned down.

  “I would feel comfortable with four hours. But we would have to shut down the ion transducer for at least half of that time. I'm afraid it will not be ready before we are overtaken.”

  I gave the order to begin the work, and for him to do his best. It was a somewhat hollow add-on to the order, as the one thing Frig always did was his best. He would not attempt a job if he felt he could not do it in the best possible way. It was one of the things that made him a great engineer.

  It would be up to me to give him enough time to do his job. I felt comfortable coming up with the extra hour or two of freedom, but an hour of that would be with no engine, and I wasn't sure how I was going to pull that one off. As I looked out the cockpit window, I hoped the ion wall in front of us held the break we were in need of. If not, well... I was not one to fancy the brig.

  In the little time I had left, I decided it might be best to study up on our pursuer. The transponder code pegged it as the flagship of the fifth fleet, commanded by Admiral Michael Zimmerman. The data file on the admiral was a long one. Close ties to the officers of the SCore, our most heavily decorated war veteran, having taken out the Gurathian fleet at Dreble-3, and for toppers, he was the second cousin of the current Grid Vice President, Barns Roble. Zimmerman's creds were a mile long.

  As I dug further into the data store about the admiral, I began to develop a fondness for his methods. He had a tendency to act first and answer questions later. His decision-making during battle, and his open and friendly nature during peacetime, had garnered the undying loyalty of his crew. It seemed everyone liked Zimmerman, regardless of his sometimes rash behavior. I was sure that having a politician such as Barns Roble in his pocket was not doing him harm either.

  When the admiral's ship had closed to within a half hour of our position, we received a hail. “5509, 5509, this is the Grid fleet vessel Eldridge. Please bring your vessel to a halt. You are in a quarantined military grid sector a
nd are in violation of a number of Messenger Service and contract protocols. The cargo you are carrying is unregistered and therefore unlawful. Again, 5509, reduce your speed or be in violation of Executive Order 395-T.”

  I looked at the console for several seconds before closing the hail. To answer an order like the one that had just been given, and to then not follow it, gave the admiral a license to fire, or to take the Swift by whatever means he felt were necessary. I had no doubt he would do that either way, but I was not going to make it any more legal for him to kick my ass than it already was.

  I again walked back to check on Frig's progress. “What's your ETC? We are less than a half hour before entering that ion field out there, and there is no telling if we will be able to find a place to hide. Comm sensors will be useless, but I'm betting their visual arrays can spot and track a dirge bug from a quarter light-year. We are small, and the ion wall is as big a place as any, but we aren’t that small.”

  Frig continued to assemble the parts as he squatted on the deck. “The device will be ready in one hour and seven minutes, in line with the estimate I had given initially. There are sixteen parts that will require a brush of 442-Resin during the assembly process. The resin takes three minutes, nineteen seconds to properly cure. I have the parts set in the optimum order for assembly. It will be ready for installation at that time.”

  I was always amazed at how efficiently Frig was able to work. Every project was broken into the exact number of steps necessary for completion before it was ever begun. His estimates were usually to the minute for tasks lasting several hours or more. He was good, there was no doubt, but I would never sing his praises in front of him, as I feared his head would swell to double its size and then burst. He knew exactly how I truly felt and never asked that I show it.

  The Eldridge continued to hail and I continued to ignore it. I racked my brain for a solution to our current problem.

  How could I make us disappear? “Frig?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Do we still have that case of inflatable pallets on board?”

  Frig thought for a moment. “If you check the inventory manifest, it will show the location, unless you removed them after our prior run. I believe they were previously in compartment seven. I would be happy to check, but I am currently involved in a state of curing.”

  I pulled up the manifest on the console and then headed back across the deck to compartment seven. The inflatable pallets came in a slender tube about as long as my forearm. They had a timer for a delayed opening or an immediate switch if an instant pallet was desired, and a pressure sensor that would keep them inflated to the same height no matter the load. I was counting on that pressure sensor to do its job in the dead of space.

  As I fuddled with my pallet plan, an alarm went off on my console. We had entered the ion wall. The Eldridge was now only twenty minutes behind us. I allowed another five minutes to pass before putting my plan into action.

  I placed a pallet into the launch cylinder and gave it a three-minute delay before inflation. I pressed the launch button and the autopallet was instantly on its way. Once back at my console, I programmed in a new course, going deeper into the ion wall at a fifteen-degree angle.

  “Sir. May I ask what it is that you are doing? Sir?”

  Frig did not like to be in the dark. It had always been in my best interest to clue him in as soon as I thought it possible. If a decision was to be made, his input was always of value.

  I replied, “I am attempting to give the admiral and his boys a visual distraction of sorts. I figure that autopallet has just about the same size visual signature as the Swift. If we are lucky, it will race away from us at the speed of the ion field and they will take the bait. It may not take them long to figure it out, or it may not work at all, but we needed to do something.”

  Frig was quiet for nearly a minute. “Sir, the autopallet as a visual will only offer a 47 percent signature equivalent. Might I suggest bonding two of the cylinders together? It may just be enough of a match for them to follow until their sensors offer full definition.”

  He was right, of course. Double the size meant a signature that nearly matched our own. I got busy bonding the next five sets of cylinders together. The admiral's crew would be highly trained at evaluating the data coming from their sensors, and the better a match, the better our chances. The autopallets would provide us with an 80-20 chance of putting a significant distance between us and the Eldridge, if they were effective. If that distance was significant enough, I felt we might be able to slip away.

  I launched a pair of autopallets every five minutes until they had all been dispensed. I then watched as they disappeared from every sensor except visual. A final turn took us straight into the ion streams on a path parallel to what our course would have initially been. I crossed my fingers and made a wish for good luck. It was a tradition among Humans, and even though it was a bit superstitious for my tastes, I was all too happy to have a shot at a little luck now and again.

  We continued in the same direction for several hours with no sign of the Grid battleship behind us. The pallet trick had worked.

  After a check of all systems, I turned to Frig. “I can't believe we got away with that one. Zimmerman is probably raking his staff over the coals right now. I would love to be a fly on the wall on that bridge. From his file, it looks like he can have a good temper tantrum every once in a while.”

  Frig replied, “Sir, might I say that you handled that brilliantly for a mere Human.”

  I gave him a wink and then continued. “What's the status on that enhancement? We ready to slap it on?”

  Frig replied, “First, slapping it on would not be prudent, sir. This will require an intricate series of maneuvers on your part. You will need to exactly align the feed injectors with the chamber depressions. I have the required tools to perform this task laid out. The EID should be ready for your efforts in another four minutes.”

  I replied, “And why is it that you feel I am the one who is required to perform this task? If you know how to do it and you know which tools to use... why are you tagging me with this project?”

  Frig tilted his head slightly to one side and let out a sigh. “Sir, how often do I have to remind you of the length of my upper appendages? This task requires another extended stay under the deck plating, and it is impossible for me to reach the recombination chamber with these arms. Really, sir. I am shocked!”

  Frig knew how to pull my chain, and he knew just how hard he could pull without pushing me over the edge.

  I replied, “How about I take your short-armed torso and stuff it down through the decking with my boot? I bet if I jumped up and down on your ass enough times you would fit through that hole!”

  Frig responded, “Seriously, sir. you are in need of some new material. You have threatened to stuff me through that opening at least a dozen times in the last few months. Perhaps a kind word now and again would be more effective.”

  After shutting down the ion engine, I stepped over and removed the deck plate. I mumbled a few choice words to Frig as I leaned the grate up against the hold wall. When the four minutes had passed, I again stuffed my wide shoulders down into the hole while steadying myself with my left hand. Frig began to hand me the tools one by one as he gave concise instructions on what to remove.

  The chassis around the recombination chamber took a half hour to crack open and pull free from the chamber assembly. Three fast latches then allowed the removal of the chamber's main body. I tugged at the assembly in question and then grunted as I pulled it up through the grate hole with one arm. The chamber’s main body weighed forty pounds.

  Frig then began the process of adding the EID to the chamber body. I always found it fascinating to watch him work. Every move had a reason, and every reason had exactly one move. The new EID was assembled and attached to the main body in less than three minutes. As I returned to my position in the hole, Frig slowly lowered the altered chamber until I had a firm grip on it w
ith my right hand.

  I again let out a grunt as I stretched and hoisted the new assembly into place. Feed lines were attached and the chassis casing bolted into place. Several minutes later I emerged from the hole with a smile on my face.

  “Let's give this puppy a try.”

  I stood and walked to the console with Frig close behind.

  Frig said, “It will not be a simple start this time, sir. There are a number of status checks that need to be performed before applying full power.”

  After nearly an hour in the hole, I was ready to go.

  Frig reached for the console. “It would be best if I performed the status checks, sir. Perhaps you can press the button when the process is complete.”

  Despite his patronizing delivery, I knew the restart was a job that only he could safely perform.

  I stepped aside and flung an open hand toward the console, adding some sarcasm of my own: “Be my guest, you were the one that did all the light work on this job...”

  After a short hesitation, I made one additional comment. “I do want to be the one to press the button when you are done, though... just so you know.”

  Power was applied to the channel couplings, and the recombination chamber sensors were soon spitting out data. After several minutes of stable transmission, Frig punched in a 1 percent burst. The ship's position monitors showed a slight move forward. The process was repeated until a 5 percent level was attained.

  Frig turned to me with a wide grin. “The channel alignment appears to be optimal, and sensor data is heavily in the green. I believe we are ready for a test run, sir.”

  It was an exciting thought to have the chance to travel in a ship at a speed that had never before been achieved by anyone of our species. If the addition worked as advertised, I would be piloting the fastest known ship in the galaxy, exceeded only by the gravity drive on the Grid.

  I put my hand on Frig's shoulder. “If this works, you and I are going to be very wealthy individuals, and very soon. I can’t wait to see the look on Felix's face when we start taking all his contracts.”

  I was so excited that I decided to let Frig run the test. He had earned it, just as he had earned my friendship. As he reached for the throttle, the proximity alert again sounded. The admiral had found us and was fast approaching.

  Frig pushed the throttle to 15 percent and the ship lunged ahead with a smoothness I could hardly feel. The normal vibration that came from ramping up an ion engine was gone. Frig remarked that it was possible the alignment we had done reduced the harmonics of the recombination, but it was very likely that the EID removed those harmonics altogether—he would have to study.

  At 15 percent throttle, the admiral was still gaining. Frig moved the throttle up to 40 percent, and we had soon matched the speed of the battleship following us. We were traveling at 158 times the speed of light. The admiral’s crew then pushed their ship to its maximum speed of 186 SOL until, again, they were closing quickly on our position.

  Frig pushed our throttle to 60 percent and the ion engine responded quietly as it pushed our speed to 223 SOL. Faster than any known ship had ever traveled.

  I grabbed Frig by the shoulders and shook his bulbous frame as I belted out a loud “Whoo-ha!” and laughed. “Eat that, Zimmerman!”

  As I continued my mini-celebration, the console lit up with flashing red lights. The engine had gone into a safe-mode shutdown.

  “Sir, I am afraid the feed couplers have overheated. It was a problem I thought we might have. The alignment of the ion paths does have the consequence of expelling heat.”

  I looked Frig in the eyes. “And you didn't mention this before because of why?”

  Frig returned my stare. “I only knew that it was a possibility, sir. Without a full analysis of the diagrams and without doing the alignment myself, I believed the probability to be low.”

  We were dead in space. The military vessel that had been pursuing us was again gaining fast.

  I said, “You better get your suit on. And make it fast. I'm dumping the cargo. If it is really what they are interested in, I'm hoping they will just leave us alone.”

  Within minutes I was latching the helmet onto my extravehicular suit. When I heard the latch on Frig's helmet lock, I began to reach for the cargo controls.

  Frig placed his hand on my shoulder and said. “Sir, I would advise against opening that door while we are riding in the ion wind. Our suits are not adequately shielded for such a situation. We would be cooked from the inside out before the container was fully released.”

  I replied, “Well, we can't just sit here. They are going to be all over us in a few minutes. What would you suggest…?”

  Minutes later we moved ahead with our attempt at releasing the Tantric cargo. It was not a comfortable situation, but it was our only choice. Frig pushed and pulled the small door closed behind us.

  “I can't believe we are going to get caught hiding in the can. I mean, if I'm going to go down in a fight, I don't want it to be from here... and if they decide to take the bait, I can't believe they will just let us go. I should have never let you talk me into adding the EID thing. Gonna get us killed.”

  Frig grumbled as he brought up the remote console on his sleeve. The cargo hatch opened to a deafening roar. A metallic screech could be heard as the 1,800-pound container of refined Tantric ore slid out into the rampaging ion field. My heart sank as I thought of the consequences of losing such a cargo.

  It had happened once before with a cargo worth far less, the result of which was a three-week suspension from contracts and a dent to my reputation. The container had not been properly sealed, and the live-eel delicacy that I was carrying was dead before it arrived at the destination. I found the ensuing legal claim to be beyond my ability to pay should I have lost in court, so I settled on the suspension instead. I had not hauled a live cargo since.

  When the cargo door closed and the chime of the seal went off, I squeezed back out of the john and popped off the grate covering. The feeds were still glowing red. I turned back to Frig to request a liquid nitrogen canister. He was standing behind me with one in his hand. The can was emptied of its contents, bringing the temperature down just enough for an engine restart. I energized the feeds and then slowly pushed the throttle to 30 percent.

  Frig said, “Sir, at that throttle, we run a 68 percent chance of once again overheating. I did the math in my head as you were busy dumping our cargo. I believe we should limit the throttle to 24 percent for now.”

  I turned back to Frig and pointed to the hold. “How about you go back and see how many cans of nitrogen we have? Keep an eye on those feeds, and maybe spend a can or two to keep them cool. And connect the empty to the enviro-recycler. It should be pulling that excess nitrogen out of the air in here as we speak.”

  As we sped away from the Tantric container, I again set the ship's direction at an angle as we were heading toward the outer part of the ion wall. The stellar winds were strongest there, and I hoped the admiral would lose interest in the chase once he had his cargo.

  When we punched through the heavily ionized stellar winds of the outer wall and into the clear, calm, empty space beyond, there was no sign of the Eldridge behind us. They had their prize; the two-bit Messenger that had escaped... was of no value.