AMP Messenger

by Stephen Arseneault

  Chapter 11

  _______________________

  After giving the information from the crystal to the admiral's team, we headed back to the Grid. Just after landing, a private businessman approached with a substantial contract offer. He wanted us to gather information on a rival who was building a factory. It was a long distance from the Grid. He wanted all the information we could gather over a two-day period. I wasn't sure how a factory at that distance would be considered competitive, but it seemed like a gravy run, so I heartily accepted.

  We were told the factory was being constructed on or around Kelvin-7. It was a five-month journey under normal travel conditions, a journey that we could make in six weeks. We reloaded our supplies and lifted off early after only a night’s rest.

  The flight to the Kelvin system was peaceful... and boring. We slowed as we came to the outer reaches of the system, sending a matrix probe in to do our dirty work. It would passively gather information for a day and then blast that information back to our location using a tight microbeam transmission. If the first matrix returned data showing the presence of a factory, we would send in two more probes the following day.

  “Would you rather I call you Bartel or Frig? I mean, seems a bit strange calling you by a fictitious name now. Besides, even though you act like a Frig, you look more like a Bartel.”

  Frig glanced up from his console. “I'm not sure what you mean by that statement, sir. You may decide for yourself that which you will call me. I believe you will do that regardless of my decision. While you ponder that, sir, I do have a more relevant topic to discuss.”

  I replied, “What do you have?”

  Frig responded, “In my spare time I have been looking over the specs for the ion cannon given to us by the admiral. I'm wondering if we could apply some of the same channeling alignment updates to the cannon's recombination chamber. The cannon works on virtually the same principles, only the power is applied in a burst instead of a long, slow release. I believe an update to be achievable, sir.”

  Again, I had to remind Frig that he was a partner in this endeavor and that he didn't need my permission to do research. All that I asked was to be informed if an action was to be taken that would affect us both. I did not require that he ask to pump out the bilge, only that I be told it had been done.

  Frig continued: “If my calculations are correct, we should see a—”

  The data alarms sounded indicating a blast from the matrix probe was on its way in. Our monitors began to fill with information from the prior day’s surveillance.

  “Whoa! That is a big piece of machinery they are constructing there. I can't say I have ever seen a factory like that. What do you think that is? It's almost a hundred kilometers long.”

  Frig punched away on his keyboard, bringing up multiple simulated views. “I'm not exactly sure, sir. It does have multiple power ports along its axis. If my count is correct, that will give it the power equivalent of eight battleships. The only conclusion I can draw is that it is some type of weapon. Extrapolating from the construction completed in a day, I would have to say that it has been just over a year in construction.

  “And I believe those blips in the background are Milgari vessels, sir. We have evidently stumbled upon a forward base of theirs. I can't say I am fond of being here right now, sir. Not a good place to be caught spying.”

  I studied the images for several minutes. “That is one huge ion cannon, that's what that is! Look at the ports here and here, these four exchanges and that complex bridge at the end—that has ‘cannon’ written all over it. What are the implications of a cannon that size being used against the Grid?”

  Frig punched away at his keyboard as he scanned data estimates. “I believe you are correct, sir. It is indeed an ion cannon. Only there are a few pieces I do not recognize. This one in particular troubles me. If they have achieved integration with a harmonic focusing apparatus, the beam from this weapon would remain near optimum power when fired from half a light-year away. The Grid would have no defense against it.”

  I placed a hand behind my head to stroke the hair on the back of my neck. “And look at the back end of this thing. That is a power system if I have ever seen one. They could set this beast up just outside of our sensor range and blast away at the Grid before we had a chance to run. We’ve taken solid hits from their weapons before, but nothing like the power this thing would expel. A hit from that could sink deep into her structure.”

  I took a deep breath. “I think we need to get this information back as soon as possible. It might be time to pack up and leave the Mensa sector. We can't defend against a weapon that powerful.”

  Frig then turned toward me, speaking in a calm voice. “May I suggest an alternate plan, sir? Perhaps we should stay here for a few more days and gather more information. That weapon will not be completed for months. With the right information, it might be possible for the admiral to devise a plan to destroy it, sir.”

  I continued to rub the back of my neck as I sat back in my chair. “I don't know if he could get in close enough to do any damage. From the number of ships I can see, it looks like half of their fleet is parked out there. If you noticed, they have pickets parked all around this system, monitoring almost every inch of space. Had we not lucked out and come in behind that asteroid field, we might as well have come in flying flags.”

  After a short discussion, I bowed to Frig's reasoning. The weapon was not going to be used tomorrow. And if we could gather information that would be useful for its destruction, it was worth the wait. I twiddled my thumbs while looking over the data as Frig continued his study of upgrading our ion cannon.

  A dozen uneventful hours passed before I retired to the bunk room. I had only just dozed off into a sound sleep when a hand grabbed my shoulder and shook me.

  “Sir, I think you will want to see this. I keep rechecking my calculations for an error, but I can find none. Our ion cannon, sir. I think we should begin the upgrade as soon as possible.”

  I rubbed my eyes and then blinked twice, heavily, as I sat up on my bunk. “You had to let me fall asleep, didn't you? I would have thought you knew by now that waking a Human just after they've fallen asleep is bad luck.”

  We headed back to the cockpit. “I don't see how me waking you is bad luck, sir.”

  I grabbed his shoulder as we walked. “Well, it was bad luck for me, and since you are trapped on this bucket now with a grumpy Human, I'd say it was bad luck for you. Now, what was so important?”

  Frig pulled up an image of his modification for the ion cannon upgrade. It did indeed look similar to that of the EID we had added to our engines. What caught my eye was the new estimated power output.

  “Sir, the EID addition to the engines yielded a linear power increase. In the instance of the ion cannon, sir, that increase turns exponential. With this upgrade, our cannon should be as powerful as the battle cannon on those Milgari battleships.”

  I again blinked several times to get the sleep out of my eyes. “Well, what's the holdup? Do we have the parts on board to make this mod? And... from that look on your face... there is something else you haven't told me. What's cooking up there?”

  Frig pointed to the graph on his console. “Our problem is right here, sir. We do not have the power output on this small vessel to drive that modification.”

  I studied the graph intently. “So, you're saying we can build it, we just can't fire it. Seems like you already have the answer as to whether we do it or not.”

  Frig changed pages on his display. “Here, sir. I ran the calculations... we can fire the weapon, sir, but it will require a five-minute recharge before we can fire it again. I believe I can cut that number down substantially if I can reroute the engine feeds directly into the cannon chamber, sir.”

  Frig had a way of doling out information a piece at a time. I was sure he took satisfaction from the fact that it drove me crazy.

  I said, “If we can build it and if we can power it, then what's the hold
up? Tell me what I can do.”

  Frig looked back at his monitor. “There is one more bit of information, sir. There is a 32.4 percent chance that the diversion of the engine feeds would cause a flare-out. If so, we would have no propulsion for thirty-four seconds. Time enough for a basic engine reboot, sir.”

  There was always a catch. However, I was never one who liked to play the odds. “OK, can we do this with what we have here, or do we need to visit the admiral or the Grid?”

  Frig checked the inventory. “We have what is needed. My question to you would be, why we need to do this now?”

  I looked out the view-port in front of me. “We need this now because I'm going to lay out a plan of attack on that weapon. If you can give me three shots at that thing... one here, one here, and here, I think we can push back its production by a good six months. Those exchanges are the key complex systems of that thing. If we can take them out, they'll almost have to start over from the beginning. I'll need those three bursts spaced about eighteen seconds apart. Do you think we can achieve that?”

  Frig sat down with a troubled look on his face. He punched frantically on his keyboard and then turned toward me.

  “With the power going through those feeds, and if we are able to achieve a 98 percent transfer rate, the best we can do is twenty-nine point two seconds per shot, sir. At that transfer rate, our chances of a flare-out increase to 61.8 percent. If we can't run, sir, we will be—”

  I put my hand up for him to quit. “I know what we will be. Why don't you look to see how you could refine your diagrams there while I think for a bit?”

  I stood and began to pace the cockpit deck while deep in thought. If there was a solution, I was determined to find it.

  After three hours of pacing, I turned to Frig, still working fervently at his console, planning out every detail of the upgrade. “I got nothing. With twenty-nine seconds, we would only get off one shot before we had to turn and run. A hit on one of those exchanges might set them back what? A month? That's not worth our lives. I'm heading back to bed for a bit. When I get back, I suggest you get some rest yourself.”

  I was fast asleep in my bunk when Frig once again shook my shoulder. I squinted my eyes and rolled away from him. He continued to shake my arm.

  I responded, “Aw! How much bad luck do you need? Please tell me you have something worth waking me for. I was just about to—”

  Frig cut me off. “Sir, I believe I may have a solution to our firing problem. With the power increase of that cannon, our firing range will be increased as well.”

  I rubbed my eyes as I rolled over and sat up on the edge of the bunk. “Go on.”

  Frig continued: “If we come in at full speed, we can fire the first two shots while at a significant distance, saving the final shot for once we have reached the system. We will, however, take fire on our attempt at an exit. Depending on the response time of their crews, we could be taking the full force of one of their battleship charges.”

  I sat for several seconds, soaking in what he had said. “Have you thought about our accuracy at that speed and distance? Will we be able to strike a target that size while hustling along at 300 SOL?”

  Frig nodded. “I believe I have a solution for that as well, sir. With the proper placement of three matrix probes, I believe we can attain the accuracy required for those distance shots by feeding live probe data into our firing computer.

  “The probe positions may be compromised, but not before we have our firing data. I conclude that an attempted attack on the Milgari weapon has merit, sir.”

  I pulled on a pair of pants and headed toward the cockpit. I had some planning to do. And I was sure another trip down in the engine hole was coming my way.

  I was running on only a few minutes of sleep in the last twenty-four hours, but it wasn't my first time at a late-night party. As I began my planning, I smiled at the thought of giving a good kick in the teeth to the Milgari. I pushed myself hard, and had the flight plan, shots, angles of attack and departure mapped out and verified within an hour.

  Frig had been busy with his own task. He had a detailed installation guide ready for me to follow. I would be spending several hours of my time upside down in the hole. This time, however, it was for something that I looked forward to. We began the upgrade by pulling the parts he had listed on the manifest. The excitement of what lay before us had me grinning nonstop.

  The parts were laid out on the floor in a pattern as specified in Frig's guide. Our engines would be taken offline, the feeds coupled back to the cannon power line, after which the cannon modifications could begin.

  Following Frig's instructions, I was able to attach the feed coupling without error. The deck plates running down the right side of the hold were lifted. The cannon feeds and recombination chamber were modified in the same manner as we had modified the engines.

  Two hours later, I replaced the final deck plate and looked up at my friend. “Let's do this, Frig. Get those probes launched. Then I say we take this thing out of range and do a test firing.”

  I turned the Swift and maneuvered slowly through the asteroid field back out to free space. When I was sure we were out of sensor range of the Milgari pickets, I pushed the throttle to full and headed toward the nearest star system. I had sweaty palms as we approached a small moon.

  “OK,” I said, “we’re closing to the same distance as our third and final shot. Let’s see what this puppy can do.”

  I took aim at the center of a crater and squeezed off the first pulse from the modified cannon. Other than the normal low hum emitted by a burst, there was no indication we had fired a pulse of energy at all, much less one equivalent to that of a full battle cannon.

  Seconds later, a trench nearly a kilometer long appeared on the moon’s surface, debris lifting from its low gravitational pull.

  Frig came back with a damage report. “Sir, the target area sustained a hit that melted a trench in the moon’s surface of 1,107 meters in length, with an average depth of 75 meters. I would say that easily qualifies as a battle-cannon equivalent or better, sir.”

  I raised my fist up under my chin as I looked at Frig and smiled. He returned the Gambit salute. On our way back toward the space factory, we looked over every piece of data we could find from the ship's system monitors. All systems had remained green. Our cannon modification was a success.

  As we approached the factory, the attack plan was in place; it was time to do real damage to the enemy. I moved the Swift to the starting point of the plan.

  Frig gave an inquisitive look. "Sir? Why are we stopped here? Is there some advantage to this maneuver?"

  I replied, "No, it’s just what I wrote up, so I'm trying to stick to that. Yes, it may seem stupid, but it is what it is. I wanted to do one last check of that original matrix probe before proceeding. That data should be in any minute."

  Frig tilted his head to one side and returned his gaze to his own console. The data from the probe streamed in and filled our displays.

  “Frig? Are you seeing what I'm seeing? That looks like the Ranger coming in there. What would one of the admiral's boats be doing meeting up with the Milgari? Something is very wrong here.”

  As we watched the video playback of the stream, the Ranger pulled in close to a Milgari flagship. Its numbers had been altered, but the makeup of the forward section was unmistakable. The new frigates had an alteration that made the Ranger's profile distinct.

  A shuttle departed the Ranger and soon after returned. I was having trouble comprehending what I was seeing.

  “What would Cortes be doing here... other than selling us out? Now I have to wonder about Zimmerman too. Have we been aiding the enemy for the last year? This just can't be good.”

  Frig typed on his keyboard for several minutes. “Sensors show the shuttle density signature changed from the ride over to the ride back. Something was delivered and left with that flagship, sir. It seems Sergeant Cortes may indeed be working for the enemy. And yes... this cannot be good.�
�

  The Ranger departed. There was soon a flurry of activity around the flagship. Numerous small transports were ferrying people or materials between a number of the other ships and the flagship. I took it as a sign to begin our raid. If the Milgari were occupied with whatever Cortes had given them, they would perhaps be slow to react to our attack.

  I ground my teeth as I scowled. The Cortes deal had gotten under my skin. I wanted to show the invaders what a true Human would deliver to them. I punched up the throttle and put my plan into play.

  “OK, my friend. At the points I have designated on the screen, I want you to give your best cannon bursts. They will quickly fall behind the ship, but the second one should catch up just as we fire the last round. We should hit the two outer exchanges, with that first bolt catching up thirty seconds later. If our aim is true, that massive structure will be crippled for some time.”

  The three matrix probes that had been left in the area came to life. The aiming algorithm pulled in the data. Micro-adjustments were made to our course just before the first shot was fired. The low hum told me it was away. The first two cannon bursts had been fired by the time we dropped below light speed. It was time for the final run.

  “Sir, we have weapons systems activating. I expect the first pulses to arrive here in five... four... three... two... one. Two near misses, sir."

  I began to mumble to myself as the attack counter ticked down toward zero. “C'mon, c'mon... give me that mark so we can get out of here!” The time hit zero and Frig smashed his hand down on the fire button. The final bolt was away as I turned the Swift hard to port. A heavy bolt clipped our right wing, sending the Swift into a momentary spin. The charge inhibitor had done its job, keeping the Tantric armor of the wing intact.

  The second and final bursts from our cannon arrived at the same time. The two outer exchanges first swallowed the bolts and then exploded with a bright fury. We managed to evade two more enemy bolts before a third caught us straight on from behind.

  “Sir, that last bolt nearly overwhelmed the inhibitor and our armor. We cannot take another hit of that magnitude. I would suggest a few slight alterations in our course to counter their projected aim.”

  I had already tweaked our path twice, but I was in no position to have a discussion about it. I made a third cut just as another heavy bolt arrived, barely missing our tail. Our first bolt caught up to us, striking its target. The third exchange on the massive weapon exploded in fire as the power store was compromised. The massive ion cannon had been cut into three sections, each burning brightly at the points of impact.

  As we again accelerated through light speed, a final Milgari bolt found its mark. The couplers to our cannon were incinerated and our rear Tantric plating compromised. A further strike to any part of the ship would have been our undoing. We had escaped with our lives. Our efforts would set the Milgari effort back at least six months, but war was growing ever closer.

  As we sped away from the Schnell sector, I was grinning from ear to ear. Our raid had been a success. But that grin soon faded as I thought about the admiral and Cortes. I began to wonder what they were really up to. Perhaps that whole stealth fleet was being built to overthrow the Grid and make us into subjects of the Milgari Empire. It was an outcome that I just could not fathom any Human supporting. And yet... there were known to be spies on the Grid that wanted that very thing, Humans who had no idea of what their payoff would really be.

  We continued to swing in a wide arc away from the Milgari base, heading back toward the Grid. Our ion cannon had been damaged beyond our ability to repair it while in flight. The cannon was an unauthorized weapon on a ship that was supposed to be unarmed. We would not do repairs on the Grid. And after seeing Cortes at the Milgari base, a return to the admiral's docks was out of the question. Our options were limited to paying for the work at a third-world port, where few, if any, questions would be asked. I had one such port in mind.

  “Frig, I'm taking us to Ios-4. They let us install that signal inhibitor on here without question. I believe we could repair this cannon there.”

  Frig replied, “I believe that be an appropriate action, sir.”

  The work had been done in a small repair dock. Ios-4 was a remote mining colony on the inner edge of our arm of the galaxy. The Ios-4 authorities had to report to no one but themselves. It was an ideal location for having upgrades done to one's ship, as the Iosics were fiercely protective of the secrecy of all undertakings. Gossiping workers had been known to be executed without trial. The ride to the repair dock would take four weeks.