AMP Messenger

by Stephen Arseneault

  Chapter 16

  _______________________

  Over the months that followed, the Fist and the Dagger were made operational and ready for flight. Both ships performed flawlessly, including their crews. They were better than I had ever thought possible.

  During the flight tests, George managed to find three additional Defender hulls. They were purchased and clandestinely delivered to Bullwort. With the new hulls moving through our upgrade process, the size of our fleet would soon number six.

  My pilot recruiting had also gone well. We now had eight team members who were qualified as pilots, and five ship engineers. George had leads on four additional hulls he was tracking down. Our new pilots were Jon Baumer, Dance Pilgrim, and Vette Stephens, all disgruntled Messenger pilots, and all excellent fliers.

  The ore-mining operation continued at a rapid pace. Four new loads of refined Tantric ore had been delivered. For such a small operation, we had an impressive credit store that was still growing. We could purchase supplies and parts for our operations without worry. Accounts had been set up for each team member, and profit-sharing contributions had begun. There had not been a grumble of dissatisfaction from any member of the team. Everyone worked hard to accomplish our goals.

  With our small fleet growing, it was decided the time had come to put it to use. Intel had to be gathered on Milgari operations. Their numbers in the sector were growing, as well as word of new bases. The rumors of a massive Milgari ship with ultrapowerful ion cannons had not been proved. However, after seeing one of the cannons being manufactured, I had no doubt that at least one of those ships existed. Our first task would be to find out where it was.

  With our small fleet coming together, it was time to pay a visit to the Grid. I would use George's flier so as not to attract unwanted attention. Rex Bumbalee was a mine operator from Bullwort looking to sell his product and acquire mining equipment. With my new face and my recent experience in mining, I felt it was a decent cover.

  I landed in Alpha Bay 7 and proceeded to Jasper's. As I entered, I was floored by what I saw. Ashley Elizabeth was sitting with Michael Felix. I had the sudden urge to race over to punch him. Instead, I turned and walked away in search of the Gambit who had given me the package to deliver to his rebel Gambit friends. When I arrived at his apartment, I found there was a new occupant.

  I knocked on the apartment next door in an attempt to gather information on his whereabouts.

  The Human neighbor answered. “Yes?”

  “Excuse me, but I was looking for the Gambit who used to live next door. Would you know where I can find him?”

  The neighbor looked down the hallway both ways before responding. “You are better off just walking away. The guy was a spy; they came and shot him dead. The news reported there was a struggle, but I was right here and all I heard was a knock on his door, followed by three shots when the door opened. If he was a spy, he deserved what he got. But it all sounded a bit suspicious to me.”

  The neighbor continued, “Oh, by the way, if anyone asks, I will deny ever talking to you. I would recommend you go as far away from this place as you can, because the thugs who got him shoot first and ask questions later. That's all I can offer. Please go now.”

  The door was closed in my face. The neighbor was scared and suspicious. I repeated the process with the adjacent apartments. Two neighbors slammed their doors, but a third offered up the Gambit's place of employment.

  Mars Tallon had worked the last decade in a retail shop in the first mainstay of the Beta section, just under a kilometer from his apartment. His supervisor was a chatty, middle-aged woman who took immediate notice of me when I walked through the door.

  “Yes, I worked with Mars for the last ten years or so. He was a sweet guy, never any trouble and always on time. I just could not believe that he was a spy. Right here under my nose the whole time!”

  The Gambit's boss was batting her eyes and touching my arm as she continued to talk. “He was a hard worker, that one. Always polite and helpful, kept his schedule like clockwork. Every day except Tuesday he would leave for lunch at 11:55 and return precisely thirty minutes later. On Tuesday, he took a one-hour lunch. He would meet his Gambit friend Dearest Kreed at the doorway and walk her to the cafe four doors down. I think he was sweet on her, but he never made the move. I always told him, if you see something you like, reach out and grab it!”

  She smiled as she squeezed my arm.

  I replied, “Well, Miss... Walker, I would like to thank you for your time and the enlightening conversation. I would stay and chat, but I have other appointments to attend to.”

  The expression on her face turned to one of coy sadness as she poked out her lower lip. “If you need anything else at all... anything, just stop in and say hi. I'm here every day but Saturday!”

  I nodded in agreement as I backed out of the store. I had a new lead to track down. I checked the Grid registry and found that Dearest Kreed lived a short distance away, in Beta section. I was soon at her apartment door knocking.

  A voice could be heard through the door. “Don't want none. Now go away or I'll call Section Patrol!”

  I could only guess she had been harassed repeatedly since the story broke about Mars. “Miss Kreed? I'm a friend of Mars. I spoke to him just before... the incident. He placed a package in my care for delivery.”

  I heard the door lock flipping, and Dearest Kreed was then standing before me. “Come inside. Quickly!”

  She pulled on my arm as I passed her. She peered up and down the hallway before closing the door behind her.

  “Mars gave a package to a Messenger, but that wasn't you. I saw him give it to Don Grange. He left the Grid with it immediately. You have the same build, but you aren't him.”

  George's surgical skills were outstanding. I was the same man, but I was unrecognizable to a species that had a keen eye for detail. I took a mental note to once again thank George for his fine work.

  “I can only guess that from your close acquaintance to Mars, you knew what was in the package. I was the one who delivered it, just as he wanted. But there were problems. The ship I delivered it to was destroyed.”

  Dearest's eyes sank as she sat down in a chair. “I told him it was a bad idea. It was too dangerous. It got him killed, and now I have confirmation of others too.”

  I pulled a chair over and sat down in front of Dearest. “Miss Kreed, if it helps, I was able to deliver the item to the Free Alliance. Just before the ship was destroyed, I received coordinates for a second drop. The information reached its intended target.”

  Dearest looked up with a hopeful, but still sad expression. “If you delivered the object as you say, then perhaps there is still hope. It contained information that is vital to the Alliance. War is coming, Mr. Bumbalee. And the enemy will be revealed from within. This place you call home, just as we once had a home, will be in ruin before the Milgari reach here. Plans are being developed to take the Grid's only real defense offline. The drive, Mr. Bumbalee, they are targeting the drive!

  “And if we somehow manage to overcome the internal threat, there is a new one coming from the Milgari. They have forward bases in the Pichik and Felgar sectors. If you are who you say you are, then you already know about their new weapons. If they hit the Grid with those... well, there is nothing we have that can stop them.”

  I got a sudden chill from having the knowledge of possible sabotage. She was right. The best defense the Grid had was its gravity drive. When our fleets neared utter defeat, we would pull up anchor and set sail for a new sector of space, a sector that would take the Milgari many years to find. My fleet of Blevins now somehow felt diminished in usefulness, even though I had acquired information about the Milgari bases.

  The most powerful ship in the galaxy could not stop an attack from within. I began to wonder if we were in need of a new strategy. I thanked Kreed and slipped out of her apartment through a back hallway. I had an uncomfortable feeling of being alone and vulnerable. That feeling set
tled when I once again stepped into a busy hallway.

  The halls of the Grid, and the occasional open garden, bustled with activity 24/7. I moved down a stretch of shops and ducked into a retailer, carefully watching the doorway for any sign I was being followed. After a short pause, I moved back into the bustle and closer to my destination in the Alpha section. When I happened into a stationery shop, I took a moment to purchase a pad and pen to jot down some notes.

  I wrote out a small letter detailing the possibility that a plot was afoot to disable or destroy the gravity drive. Once back in the hallway, I found two boys who were roughhousing. I asked them if they were interested in doing spy work. They of course were. Any activity that would break the monotony that came with the month off from school for Celestial break, was eagerly sought and accepted. I held a mock swearing-in ceremony and gave each five credits for the service they would conduct.

  There was a SCore office just down the hall, and they were to dash in, drop off the note, and then run back out. If caught, they were to say it was given to them by a Mushan trader; the halls of Alpha were often teeming with Mushans from a nearby system. When my instructions were complete, the boys turned and ran to the destination I had given. Seconds later, they were running back into the hall and off in the opposite direction. Their task was complete and they were off to spend their hard-earned reward.

  I wrote an additional note and transcribed it into an encrypted data cube, which I then sealed in a small package. I made my way to Jasper's in search of a courier. The instruction was to travel to Marcon and have a third party deliver the cube to Michael Felix for further delivery to the admiral.

  Michael would want details, but the deliverer of the package would have none to offer. In my message to the admiral, I said he was to leave a further message for a man named Mars Tallon in the main terminal on Omrin-7. I would easily be able to check that a message was waiting with complete anonymity. It would be my way of knowing that he received it.

  I was taking a chance with the admiral, but everything I knew of his past did not point to a man who was a traitor. If he was indeed an agent for the Milgari, the plans for disrupting the gravity drive on the Grid would be compromised, possibly bringing an end to the threat. If he was a true patriot, he would do what he could to eliminate those involved before the plan could be put into action.

  I was uneasy at leaving something so important in the hands of others, but I did not have the means to carry out an operation of that scale on my own. I was soon back in the flier and on my way home. I fretted over the idea of the information falling into the hands of Jose Cortes. He had met with the Milgari in a place where enemies would not go. He had saved my life, but my trust in him had been broken.

  When I arrived at Bullwort, the Frost was now fully operational, and the Hammer was only weeks behind. We added two new team members who were responsible for integrating the new capabilities with the commercial flight computers. They had been snaked away from the manufacturer with the offer of many credits and a chance to help the cause. The new computers lacked the rugged makeup of the military-grade rig on the Swift, but they more than made up for that ruggedness with speed and programmed abilities.

  Rita was busy crafting new ion shielding that would place the new computers on par with the old when it came to ionic protection. The solid-state aspect of the new commercial computing module made it nearly impervious to shock, with which the Blevin-class hulls had always had trouble.

  Rita was also working with Gy on a new inertial dampening system that would reduce the impact that large ion pulses had on the ships. I looked forward to not being bounced around with every strike to our hull. On more than one occasion, I had thought my brain was going to rattle out of my skull.

  As the weeks rolled on, George and I continued our search for Blevin hulls, pilots, and engineers. After several weeks of no finds, I was becoming antsy about the Milgari building bases. The pilot recruits were eager to test their mettle and that of their new ships. A trip out to the Felgar sector was planned for the purpose of intelligence gathering.

  We would take all five Defenders in an attempt to practice coordinated attack and defense drills along the way. The sixth Defender was still under restoration. While each pilot had been selected for their skills, you could never have enough practice. I felt sorry for any number of rogue asteroids that happened to be in our path along the way.

  It was a two-week journey, and the team was apprehensive but excited. “This is Frost. I have a bogie at minus three-dot-two d-k-five-zero-zero.”

  Minus three-dot-two was coordinate-speak for three degrees port, two degrees pitch. D-k-five-zero-zero was a distance of five hundred thousand kilometers.

  “Target tracking is locked. Passing control to the Dagger for commitment.”

  The Dagger veered to the left and lifted its nose slightly. Seven seconds later, the ion cannon sent out a burst that turned the forty-meter-wide asteroid into vapor. The Dagger followed with a roll and was quickly back in formation.

  The captain of the Frost said, “Thank you, Dagger, we look forward to the next call.”

  The captain of the Dagger replied, “You are welcome, Frost. Target tracking has been released. Command is back in the cycle.”

  Our two new computer geniuses had modified the collision-avoidance software of the commercial flight computers. When active, the program would track multiple targets and assign ships in the cycle to engage those targets. You were designated as being in the cycle if you had no current targets.

  If no ships were available, a target was stacked on the queue of the ship that was best positioned to engage it. The Grid military had made use of targeting computers for centuries, but most pilots preferred to fly freehand, as the algorithms for target selection and assignment would occasionally get confused. On more than one occasion they had shut down entirely.

  We repeated our target runs until we reached the outskirts of the Felgar sector. Our pace was slowed and our sensors brought fully online to analyze all objects and any movement that lay before us. For five days, the sensor yield was fourteen star systems, thirty-eight planets, ninety-six moons, and other assorted debris.

  On the sixth day we had our first hit. A Milgari picket out on patrol. We formed our ships into a single-file line to reduce our visual signature. The Milgari frigate continued away from our position and was soon beyond our sensor range. I selected a nearby star system as a rendezvous point and then handed out assignments.

  “Fist, you have grids 66 through 70. Dagger, 71 to 75. Frost, 81 through 85, and Hammer, 86 through 90. I'll be cutting the center at 76 to 80. You each have two days to scan your grids. I can't say this enough times: we are not in a rush here. Take every precaution to stay unknown. Do not, I repeat, do not broadcast for any reason. If for some reason you are disabled, let us come find you.

  “If you are spotted, hightail it out of there at full speed and do not look back. If they can't catch you and do not identify you, chances are they will let it go. We meet back here in two days to review our information. You are all pros, and the Grid is in need of your skill and determination. Now go keep your eyes open and heads down as much as possible. See you in two.”

  With that, the five ships headed for their designated grids. The two days passed slowly, and each of the ships returned with no information. Each sector was divided into 1,600 grid locations. We had only scratched the surface in our hunt for the Milgari base.

  On our fourth grid hunt, we hit pay dirt. The Frost observed a large contingent of ships and activity around a planet orbiting a yellow star. The site had likely been selected for the high mineral content of the planet. The local, preindustrial population had been enslaved to work the mines as the Milgari engineers assembled the manufacturing docks in space. From the data gathered, the docks had only recently come under construction.

  It would be nearly a year before production of one of the massive ion cannons neared completion. With that information, it was decided our time
would best be spent in search of the supposed base in the Pichik sector. Pichik was on the far side of the galactic arm we inhabited. After a three-week journey, we again located a rendezvous point and began our systematic search. We had covered nearly half the sector before the Fist came back with a confirmed sighting.

  It was quickly evident the Pichik base had been in operation for nearly two years. Three massive ion cannons had been completed, with two others well under way.

  Barg panned to the left. “Over here, we have the beginnings of a ship big enough to make use of those cannons. It will be quite some time before it is ready to be in service.

  “The interesting part, however, is yet to come. Let me move over here, just to the left of this moon. Tell me what you see.”

  I looked intently at my monitor. There was nothing on the left side of the moon. There were multitudes of ships moving in and about the moon itself, but nothing of interest around it. I gave him an inquisitive look.

  Barg let out laugh and continued, “Sir, I had the same reaction when I first studied this visual feed. It's not a moon, sir. It's a station, a station that is either already complete or nearing completion. I would bet if we could get in a bit closer, we would see the ports for the cannons it's already carrying. It would also give us a better idea of its surface defenses.

  “If we plan to take that thing on, we will want to know exactly what it can do. And I would bet, unless they have a new drive technology, the ion drives on that barge are not going to be moving it anywhere fast.”

  After looking through the information we had, I gave orders for a second round of observations. We would encircle the star system, with the Hammer moving in as close as a neighboring planet. Terrance Parker would fly in close behind the planet using the planet itself as cover, always staying on the dark side, hiding in its shadow. We gathered intel for two days before slipping away back to our rendezvous.

  Terrance was the first to speak. “That is one huge ship. The rumors you heard were true. If you zoom in to level three, I count eight of those gun ports, all on the same side. This thing is made to fire in one direction and one direction only.

  “And there are medium-sized ion cannons spaced about every kilometer around that entire hull; every fifth one is full size. Given the curvature of her, I would say a single attacker would be facing at least twenty of the fulls and one hundred or so of the mediums. I know these Defenders are tough, but I can't say I fancy flying into that kind of fire. That's a suicide mission, if you ask me.”

  Milly offered her opinions and observations. “We all gotta die sometime, Terrance. At least death by ion cannon would be quick and painless.”

  The other pilots and engineers broke into separate discussions.

  I asserted my command. “Hey, listen up. We won't be charging in there, at least not without a fully mapped-out strategy. Milly and Terrance spent time in the Marines. I would assume they have some opinions on the type of tactics that might be used for an assault of this type.

  “But before we go charging in, or before we throw up our hands and run away, I would like us to study this information and to bounce a few ideas off of each other as to whether or not we can do anything at all. I have no interest in dying unless we have a good shot at taking that thing out. Let's catalog what we have here and then discuss options.”

  Our five Defenders parked in the shadows of a crater on a small, rocky planet. We kept communications between ships at an extremely low signal level, with our signal inhibitors all working in conjunction to deaden any signal that would bounce its way to freedom. We had time on our side, time to think and plan for our next move, time to allow the information we had acquired to soak in. We reasoned the Milgari would still be there whenever we were ready.