AMP Messenger

by Stephen Arseneault

  Chapter 12

  _______________________

  “Ship 5509, you are clear for landing bay 17. Proceed at the assigned speed to the deck and await further instruction.”

  We set down on the tarmac and taxied toward the hangar door based on the signal on our monitor. Twenty seconds later, the massive hangar doors closed behind us and the airlock system engaged. I opened the back hatch and we stepped out onto firm ground.

  “Feels good to be on something solid,” I said. “Stick with her until I get the crew chief over here. After that, we can go kick up some dust and get some real food. If I recall properly, this place had a restaurant that served up a mean Boktor steak, definitely suited for Human consumption. You can go feast on those snails or worms or whatever it is you eat.”

  Frig replied, “It is insectoids, sir. We prefer insectoids. We are not disgusting carnivores such as you Humans. Perhaps a handful of Maruvian crickets would change your mind. Maruvians in a light crème sauce. With two dollops of Fruvious. A meal fit for a king.”

  I turned and looked at Frig as I walked away. “Fruvious? That regurgitated stuff? Want to talk about disgusting? You can keep your bugs.”

  I was soon in a discussion with a crew chief and dock foreman. They had the parts needed for repairs. We only needed to negotiate a price with the general inspector.

  With the paperwork signed and a credit deposit made, we turned toward the market area and specifically restaurant row. There were all manner of aliens eating all manner of meals in a variety of establishments. The cooks were professionals and could make up a plate that looked and tasted similar to almost any meal available in the galaxy. You were best off just eating and not questioning what it actually was.

  As I finished my steak, I leaned back on the leather-like booth bench with a full belly. “Now, that's a meal! Much better than that pabulum we have to eat on the ship for months at a time. I wish someone would come up with a better system. I know reconstituted paste provides the nutrients we need, but it sure could be improved with a bit of variety.”

  Frig was gleeful as he consumed the final portion of his crickets. “Sir, I am hoping the repair to the cannon takes upwards of a week. I could get used to eating like this, for a while at least.”

  I said, “I'm a little nervous leaving the ship in someone else's hands.”

  Frig sighed. “The Iosics are protective of their privacy, but a crew chief that sees a way to make a fortune off of someone's technology; well... it might not take much for them to steal from us, sir.”

  Frig departed for the ship as I went looking for a room. With the multitude of credits in our store, we would be staying in a place with all the amenities, a suite with a view of the twin Ios moons. The suite included a concierge who would run around for those minor tasks such as snacks or a masseuse. And it came with expensive booze from all corners of the galaxy. Our stay on Ios-4 would be pleasant.

  With a hotel suite acquired, I turned my attention toward the local dive. I would throw about a round or two of drinks to loosen up the tongues of any travelers. Sometimes that bit of information gained from a stray source could make all the difference in a bad situation. I had once learned of a planned pirate raid on a facility that I was about to visit. It had likely saved my life.

  “Give me a Durian Ire and set up a round for everyone at the bar. Whatever they're having!”

  I looked around at the other species sitting beside me and soon had a conversation going with two of them. The Betazoid to my left had just arrived from Harmon. He was a fellow Messenger and had taken a few hits from the troopers at Malcon after not heeding their call for a boarding inspection.

  It seemed the troopers had been looking for someone carrying a load of refined Tantric ore. His cargo was private and he did not wish it to be known. He asked what I was doing on Ios.

  “Well, first, I would like to know the name of who I'm conversing with. And, since you asked, I'm delivering a load of refined Tantric ore.”

  The bar chatter became silent for several seconds before the Betazoid erupted in laughter. “My name is Xor. You can call me Xor!”

  After several more rounds, Xor opened up about his cargo. He was hauling Methracite. It was used as an ion fuel extender for long journeys. A large ship could travel 2,500 light-years without refueling. His employers were preparing to move their entire business to a new part of the galaxy, a part where the Milgari shadow would not be constantly hanging over their shoulders.

  Three other travelers soon joined the conversation. It seemed that talk of a Milgari war was starting to make itself known. The rumors that had been going around told of a fierce species that had superior technology and would stop at nothing to conquer all, and of a kind and benevolent species that was bringing with it technologies to share with the masses. I did my best to keep the conversation moving and was soon rewarded with a new rumor.

  “I'm telling you that it is true. I have seen it with my own eyes: a Milgari ship almost the size of one of those moons out there. It has a dozen massive cannons on it that look like they could fry this whole colony. Friend of mine stumbled into a sector where they were test firing it and barely escaped with his life. They caught up with him three weeks later, but not before he had shown me a recording. I left the system immediately after. They got him the next day.”

  If the traveler's tale was correct, the Milgari weapon we had seen was being built for a much-larger ship, something that would rival the Grid in size. It would have weapons far more powerful than any we had previously been witness to. The speed advantage would remain with the Grid, but that speed ramped up slowly, giving an attacker time to do significant damage.

  The massive cannon we had destroyed was not yet operational. According to the traveler, the Milgari had an entire ship that was. A single massive cannon bolt could penetrate deep into the Grid's structure. A dozen of them would be more than she could defend against. I was torn as to whether or not I should race the information to the admiral. I was no longer sure of whose side he was on.

  After a number of drinks, I staggered out of the bar. I was heading back to the suite I had rented when I was approached by another Durian.

  “Mr. Grange, I am here to warn you that your life is in danger. Be very careful, Mr. Grange, you are being watched. Scan your ship for a 1.337THz blip emission every fifty-seven of your minutes. Good luck, Mr. Grange. You will not see me again.”

  As quickly as the Durian had approached, he turned and left. The buzz I had been experiencing from letting loose in the bar quickly turned to paranoia. I hurried back to the room, locked the door, and sat on the edge of my bed. I laid my blaster out beside me. I had the sinking feeling that Frig was in danger as well. I stood, tucking the blaster into my belt before hustling out the door, headed for the hangar at bay 17. When I arrived, Frig was sitting in his usual chair as the repair crew continued to work.

  “Sir,” said Frig, “I wasn't expecting to see you again for another twelve hours. You haven't overdone it with the liquor again, have you, sir? I would rather not have to walk you to the room while repairs are underway. Perhaps you can just sleep it off in the bunk room?”

  I looked intently at the two Iosic crewmen as they worked on the repairs. “We have a problem on our hands. Someone is watching us and our ship may be bugged. I don't know how they found us out here, but a Durian just bumped into me on the street and gave me a warning. I think we may have gotten ourselves too deep into this spy thing. It's all starting to heat up.”

  I had been looking forward to stretching out on the big bed in our hotel suite. After an evening on the bottle, I was eager to get back and relax in style. But fate was not on my side, and I soon found myself crunched up and mumbling in my cramped bunk on the Swift. Minutes later I was fast asleep.

  The crewmen working the repairs finished their shift and left for the night.

  Shortly thereafter, Frig was standing over me shaking my shoulder. “Sir, I think you need to get up. There is someone sn
ooping around on the deck. Our rear hatch is open, sir. as part of the repairs. Sir?”

  I was dead to the world. The alcohol in my system had seen to it that I would not be disturbed. Frig turned and pulled his blaster as he watched the intruder on the bunk room monitor. Whoever it was, they were taking their time before boarding the Swift.

  The intruder moved slowly around the outside of the hangar, checking every entrance. They then began to move toward the Swift, a wide, droopy hat hiding their face. When they stepped up into the hatch of our ship, Frig was waiting with his blaster.

  “Hold it right there. If you value your life, you will tell me who you are and what you are doing here. I'm counting down from five before I blow a hole in your gut. Five... four...”

  The intruder raised his hand and began to speak. “Please, I am only here to deliver a message, a message for Mr. Grange from a friend. I was snooping around to make sure no one else was here. It is important that the message not be compromised. I need to speak directly with Mr. Grange.”

  Frig replied, “Mr. Grange is indisposed at the moment. I'm his partner. You can tell me whatever it is that you have to say.”

  The intruder began to squirm nervously. “I'm sorry, but my orders are to deliver the message to Mr. Grange only. You can shoot me if you want. I am probably a dead man anyway.”

  Frig gestured for the intruder to sit. “Well, I have time. Take a seat, and when you are ready to talk... I will listen.”

  Again the messenger squirmed. “Believe me, I wish I could just say it and go. The longer I am here, the more likely that I will be discovered. Those in power on the Grid have spies everywhere.”

  Frig cautiously stepped over to the intruder and checked him for weapons. There were none. He turned toward the bunk room and was surprised that I was standing in the doorway.

  “Sir, I tried to wake you, but you would not respond.”

  I rubbed my tired eyes and then frizzled the hair on the sides of my head in an attempt to wake up. “Who's our guest?”

  Frig turned his gaze toward the seated intruder. “He claims to have a message for you, a message that can only be delivered to you.”

  I gestured for the messenger to remove his hat. He was a young Alvari, a hired delivery boy. It was unusual to see an Alvari this far away from his home world. They weren't much for traveling.

  “What do you want? And don't worry about my friend here; you can say whatever you want in front of him.”

  The Alvari looked toward the open hatch and then back. “This message is from Michael Felix. He wanted you to know that a warrant has been issued for your arrest on the Grid and that your apartment has been seized. For whatever reason, the PRF political party has decided you need to be brought to justice. The charges are for the robbery and murder of a Gambit.”

  Someone on the Grid was turning up the heat. I wondered if word had somehow gotten back about the destruction of the massive ion cannon. Supporters of the Milgari would not be happy. We had flown right into the thick of war with our ship identifier clearly displayed on our hull. The Milgari knew who we were.

  The messenger continued: “They also raided the apartment of your friend. You have both been accused of being spies for the Milgari, of selling out Humans.”

  The forces on the Grid had the media in their back pockets. We were now considered enemies of the Human race, and as such, bounties had been placed on our heads. We would have to be ever watchful of our surroundings, as our anonymity was certain to be a thing of the past. The messenger remarked that our images had been broadcast all over the Grid, and on the home worlds of several of our key allies. Our travels had just become restricted.

  I said, “I'm curious as to why Michael Felix would go through the trouble to relay this message. That seems pretty risky for someone who hates my guts. What could he possibly gain from warning me?”

  The young Alvari replied, “He said he owed you a favor after your last dealings. He said this warning was easily big enough to pay off that favor and place you in his debt. He likes having people beholden to him.”

  Beholden was right. Michael Felix would go out of his way to do small favors so the receiver of those favors “owed” him. And he generally expected more in return than he gave. In this instance, he was undoubtedly looking to establish a large debt. I was sure he had an angle worked out as to how Frig and I would have to repay it. He always stayed one step ahead of everyone else.

  I gestured to the Alvari. “You can go. And tell Felix thanks and that we are even. That should at least get a snarl out of him.”

  The young Alvari rose and exited the Swift. He slipped out a side hangar door and disappeared into an alley. I turned my attention back to Frig.

  “It looks like we are fugitives on multiple worlds. I'm heading back to bed to sleep on it. Oh, and on a tip, scan the ship for a blip at 1.337THz, comes every fifty-seven minutes or so. We probably got tagged by that snooper back on the Grid. That kind of tag ain't cheap, so whoever that was either had a lot of power or a lot of credits. Watch the monitors just in case we get another visitor or two.”

  Frig nodded as I headed off to bed. The alcohol in my system still had my head in a fog. When I got to the bunk I threw my leg over the side to keep the room from spinning. I soon fell fast asleep, staying that way for twelve hours.

  The workers returned in the morning and our cannon repairs continued. Frig had located the offending tag and moved it to a courier ship in the next hangar. Our trackers would be wondering what we were up to. By late afternoon the crew chief was doing his final inspections. We lifted off a day earlier than planned, and I tipped the chief heavily for his excellent work.

  Shortly after our departure, we were contacted by the admiral. He was unhappy that we were now under suspicion and was asking if Michael Felix could be trusted. They were in need of a new vessel and crew for their Tantric ore runs. We would draw too much attention to the cause. I was hesitant to offer an opinion on Michael Felix. He was fully capable of making the runs, but I was not sure of the admiral's loyalties and eventually declined to support him for the position.

  With our faces plastered across monitors on the civilized worlds, we were left with few options. I set a course for an outer grid in a far sector. There was a small planet there with several thousand assorted colonists who had fled what they considered oppressive governments on their home worlds. The inhabitants were friendly, but were leery of travelers; travelers often brought trouble.

  I had hopes of setting up camp on the outskirts of their main village where we would attempt to lay low. “How long has it been since we visited Bullwort? Seven years? Eight? You think any of the same people would still be in charge? We made a delivery for one of their councilmen, and I remember he was pretty happy with whatever it was we brought.”

  Frig nodded. “Seven years, four months, sir. I believe I speculated on the crate's size and weight as possibly indicating a personal thermal generator with a laser drill. It would easily power his home and that of a few neighbors. It would also serve as a formidable defensive system. He did seem quite excited over its delivery.”

  The journey out to Bullwort was uneventful. We had taken several side trips to uninhabited star systems, where an effort was made to practice using our repaired ion cannon. In addition to the repairs, Frig had added a low-power multipulse mode to its programming. The high-power recharge time had been reduced to fourteen seconds. We had hopes of purchasing and adapting a charge well on Bullwort, if one could be obtained, to further reduce those times. A cannon was only as good so long as it could be fired.

  When we arrived at the Bullwort system, the planet and its colonists were under siege. A Gresshan warlord and his small pirate fleet had been conducting raids for several months. From the broadcasts for assistance we were receiving, we could tell the situation was deteriorating.

  I consulted with Frig about our chances. “What do you think? Those two frigates have enough firepower to threaten us? If we can send them packin
g, it will make a much better case for our acceptance down there. They would be fools to reject us with that threat hanging out there. If we leave, those Gresshans will come back and take the colony. They have to know they would all be slaves at that point.”

  Frig concurred, and I began the boot up of the cannon for a skirmish.

  I opened a channel to the pirate's flagship and gave a warning. “Invading fleet... this is Captain Bumbalee of the Bullwort Navy. Stand down from your hostilities or be prepared to meet your maker.”

  Frig responded with a question. “Bumbalee, sir. Bullwort Navy? I hardly think—”

  The pirate captain interrupted Frig. “You insult us with your one puny ship! Come in closer and I will show you hostilities.”

  I turned the Swift straight for his command ship and accelerated. “I'm thinking one warning was enough. Target those seven smaller ships with a multipulse and then line me up for a full shot on that flagship. If he is dumb enough to just sit there, he'll find out what the Bullwort Navy is capable of.”

  As we closed, the second frigate turned to meet us with her cannons blazing. The power contained in her charges was easily absorbed by the Swift's armor. The first strikes reverberated on the hull as little more than low thuds. Frig loosed the multipulse round and waited for its impact. Five of the seven small pirate vessels violently exploded.

  The second frigate continued to close and fire as we flew toward it. The concussions from the charge impacts of its weapons grew, but our armor and charge inhibitor were still too much for the weak cannons.

  Frig said, “Ready when you are, sir. We are locked on that frigate with a full charge.”

  I dodged several new pulses and gave the command. “Take her down when you're ready. Then prepare for that second frigate. Looks like it's getting ready to run. If we don't take it out now, they will just come back in six months and do this all over again.”

  The ion cannon fired with a low hum. Several seconds later a large hole appeared straight through the center of the frigate. Its engines went dead and it began to slowly spin to one side. Fires and explosions could be seen through the hole. Twelve seconds later Frig fired a second round that cut through the ship’s bridge. A burning and now lifeless frigate began to break apart.

  The ion engines of the captain's flagship came on full as he turned to run. Our next pulse cut off a protruding section on the right side of her hull. Explosions blew as fires raged. As we closed we were met with a bright flash directly in our path.

  Frig said. “Sir, we just had a flare-out of our engines, and the charge inhibitor has gone offline. We are out of power for at least thirty-two seconds.”

  At that same moment the pirate captain turned his vessel hard in our direction. The old frigate was slow to turn. We continued to drift toward it at a high rate of speed.

  “Frig, man, you gotta get us some power. I'm not sure how much we can take without that inhibitor. If they manage to do some real damage, fat chance we have of getting anything fixed out here. We need that ion generator back online!”

  Frig typed feverishly at his keyboard. “Sir, the generator is not charging. Get in the hole, and see if the coupler fuse has popped out. If so, jam it back in, sir.”

  I jumped and ran to my least favorite deck grate. It clanged heavily as I pulled up and tossed it to the side. I stuffed my upper torso through the hole and reached for the coupler cover. Once it was open, I could see that the fuse had indeed popped. As I attempted to push it back in, the first of several bolts contacted the Swift's hull.

  The shock from the bolts jolted the ship heavily. I lost my grip on the fuse and banged my hand hard on the bottom of the next grate.

  “Garrr!”

  The next bolt again hit hard, followed by repeated smaller strikes. The Swift shook violently. “If there is anything you can do, Frig, do it now. I can't get that...”

  With a final push, the fuse locked into place.

  “We're in. Get that thing charging!”

  As I stood to return to my chair, the next major strike impacted the hull. I was thrown hard into the far wall of the hold as the Swift absorbed the blow. The following strike threw me a meter in the air. I bounced hard on the plating and then began to roll backwards as the inertial system gyrated out of control.

  “Frig! Get... that... power... on!”

  Another hard hit sent me flying forwards. I crashed hard to the deck plating, scraping the right side of my face before again impacting a wall. Four seconds later the inertial system came online, followed soon after by the charge inhibitor. The next strike was greatly reduced in power. I pulled myself up and ran for my chair, spitting blood out the side of my mouth.

  “It’s time to show these animals what we are made of.”

  I pushed the throttle to full, avoiding the next hail of fire as Frig targeted the oncoming frigate. Several seconds later, the low hum of our cannon sounded and the pirate threat was no more. The shot cut through the port side of the bridge, opening a gaping hole down the length of the ship.

  The captain again fired one more negative ion bomb, knocking our system once again offline. However, it was too late for the Gresshan warlord. His frigate exploded with a bright flash, as its hydrogen tanks had been compromised. Soon after, the Swift was again rocked, this time by a large piece of debris. Our proximity sensors soon showed smaller ships approaching from the surface.

  The remaining two pirate ships turned to flee before realizing the futility of a run. They turned back to fight. Without their frigate escorts, they would not be able to return to their base. It was too great a distance. As the Bullwort ships closed on their position, the pirates went down fighting. By the time our ion generators were once again online, the battle was over. The Bullworties welcomed us to their colony.

  “Captain Bumbalee, this is Captain Monarch of the Triton. First, I would like to personally thank you for ending the Gresshan threat. We have been under siege for six months. Second, I have been asked to welcome you to Bullwort... if you are interested in attending a celebration of sorts. We don't have a lot to offer, but we can offer what we have.”

  I looked over at Frig with a smile. “Captain Monarch, we humbly accept your invitation. If you would kindly direct us to a landing port, I have a little cleaning up to do. I got banged around a bit back there.”

  The Bullwort captain responded, “If you're in need of medical facilities, I can offer what we have available. We don't have skin labs or bone menders, but will do what we can. Here are the coordinates you requested...”

  I turned back to my console as I typed in the location of the Bullwort spaceport. “Thank you for the kind offer, Captain, but medical care won't be necessary. Just have a few scrapes and bruises to tend to.”

  We dropped quickly down through the Bullwort atmosphere and were soon touching down at bay 4. The Bullwort spaceport had six small bays with one large bay capable of holding a midsize cargo hauler. The city mayor's aide was waiting on the deck to welcome us.