by Doug Farren
“You want to fill the antimatter tank as well?” Zathkra asked.
“The weapon needs a source of antimatter,” Trink explained.
“You’re out of your mind!” Zathkra exclaimed. “If the containment ever failed it would vaporize the ship.”
“The tank is designed to hold antimatter,” Trink fired back. “The gravitic suspension system is one of the few Kyrra technologies we’ve been able to understand.”
“Are you willing to trust the lives of everyone we have left to a centuries old storage tank?”
“At least I have the courage to do so,” Trink replied. Masthuma could tell by the tone of their voices and posture that this was going to develop into an argument.
Masthuma stepped between them and addressed Zathkra. “Perhaps you should bring your concerns up to the Commander. He is the one who is ultimately responsible for our lives.”
Trink apparently felt the need to have the last word. Looking around Masthuma’s back so he could see Zathkra, he added, “Just make sure you tell him, Base Commander, that without the antimatter, the weapon will be useless.”
Grabbing his computer pad, Masthuma turned and practically pushed Trink toward the door. “Let’s go,” he said. “We have a lot of data to analyze.”
Out in the hallway, Trink turned his head and said, “Zathkra’s an idiot! Do you think I would risk- - -”
“He’s also the base commander,” Masthuma replied, his voice suddenly very formal sounding. “It’s his job to look out for the well-being of us all. You could have explained things to him in a more respectful manner.”
Trink stopped so abruptly that Masthuma nearly ran into him. He was laughing so hard he could barely talk. Chroniech do not laugh like most other species because doing so would expose their teeth; something that was considered a challenge in their culture. Chroniech laughter was more of an internal event.
“You are the last person on this base I would expect to hear a lecture about respect.”
Masthuma laughed. “You’re right. And yes, he is an idiot. I was trying to prevent an argument.” Clapping his hand on Trink’s shoulder and starting back down the hallway, he added, “I can’t afford to lose my best mechanic.”
After a few steps, Trink looked at Masthuma and asked, “What about my idea of using the Kyrra fuel tanks?”
Masthuma rubbed his chin in thought. “Let’s try it,” he said after a moment. “Move the tanks to the test site and get them powered up. We’ll use the converter to load the antimatter tank with a small test sample. If it holds, we’ll do a test firing.
Chapter 22
“This is yours?” Kirth asked. His head was constantly moving as he tried to see everything.
“It is as long as I remain a peacekeeper,” Lashpa answered her father’s question with pride.
Kirth turned to his mate and said, “Our daughter owns her own starship.”
“I feel lighter,” Shava said.
“I kept the internal gravity field set lower for the sake of my guests while I was on Glish. I left it that way during the trip here so Tom would feel more at home. Would you like me to set it back to what you’re used to?”
“No, this is actually fun!” Shava replied.
Turning to Tom, Kirth said, “I’m ashamed to admit I did not take my daughter seriously when she first told me she wanted to apply for the peacekeeper academy. But now, I couldn’t be happier that she did so.”
“I’m glad she did,” Tom replied.
“I would like to meet your sister in person some day,” Shava said. “Lashpa tells me she’s very nice.”
Tom walked in silence for a moment, thinking, then said, “If Lashpa hadn’t intervened, my sister and I would still be strangers.”
“This is the ship’s control center,” Lashpa said. “It’s too small for us all to fit inside; we’ll have to take turns.”
“You go first,” Kirth told his mate. Turning his attention to Tom he said, “Lashpa has told me about your family. I’m not certain I would have been as forgiving as you. But I’m very glad it turned out well.”
“Lashpa seems to have a sixth-sense about such things,” Tom replied. “I didn’t know it, but she could tell that the rift between me and my sister was affecting my life in a bad way. I was very upset when she told Cassandra I was on Earth. Now, I’m grateful for what she did.”
“You seem to have that same ability,” Kirth replied. “I’m still amazed at Heshgerv’s change of attitude after you talked to her.”
“It’s just one more bit of evidence that you two are gragrakch,” Shava, who had obviously been listening to the conversation, said as she exited the control center.
“Father, would you like to have a look?” Lashpa asked.
“Of course.”
“You and Kirth would be more than welcome to visit us on Earth,” Tom told Shava.
“It’s a very long trip,” she replied. “But it would be worth it. There isn’t much to do on Fanish and neither of us have visited an alien planet before. When are you planning on returning to Earth?”
“I think I’ll spend a couple of days on Glish before heading back home,” Tom said. “I’ve heard quite a number of stories about it so I thought I would see if any of them are true.”
“It’s about time you decided to enjoy yourself,” Lashpa said, sticking her head out the door.
“I didn’t say what I would be doing,” Tom half-heartedly argued.
“You didn’t have to,” Lashpa replied. “Mother, if you’ll go down the hall you’ll see an open door on your right. That’s my- - -”
“Urgent communications request from the planetary governor,” the ship announced.
“Accept and display on my stateroom monitor,” Lashpa ordered.
The group hurried down the passageway and jammed themselves into Lashpa’s stateroom. The image of an elderly Rouldian could be seen on the large monitor mounted on the wall.
“How can I help you Governor Davrook?” Lashpa said as soon as she entered the room.
“An urgent matter has just been brought to my attention,” the Governor began. “We’ve received a request to deliver some emergency medical supplies to Karth. Your ships are much faster than anything we have available. Can you assist?”
An overlay appeared in Tom’s field of view. Without being asked to do so, one of the ships he was linked to had pulled up the relevant information concerning Karth and presented it for his review. The planet in question was located 13.7 light years from Fanish. Karth was a hot, massive world with a biosphere consisting of a soupy mix of organic material rich in exotic microorganisms. Several thousand Rouldians lived on the planet’s major moon which was large enough to hold a tenuous atmosphere of nitrogen and carbon dioxide. Robotic ships harvested the organic goo, delivering it to the moon for processing into a variety of useful products.
“Of course we can,” Laspha replied. “What happened?”
“There’s been an outbreak of black-mouth among the workers.”
“I thought black-mouth had been eradicated,” Shava said.
“There are still a few places where it’s known to exist,” Davrook replied. “One of the new workers was the carrier.”
Additional information appeared on Tom’s overlay. Black-mouth disease was an exceptionally contagious fungus that attacked the venom glands of Rouldians causing the normally yellowish liquid to turn black. It was an extremely painful illness with a high mortality rate.
“We’ll have to take precautions,” he said.
“The fungicide we’ll be providing is quite effective,” Davrook said. “Two doctors have volunteered to go as long as you have the room.”
Tom’s biolink flashed him a message. “My ship is making as much room as possible,” he said.
A pair of rapidly moving robots rolled by the open stateroom door causing Shava to jerk her head around. “Mine as well,” Lashpa added. “We’ll have the room.”
“Thank you! Thank you both!” Davrook repli
ed. “We’re working as fast as we can to gather the needed supplies. Luckily, black-mouth isn’t a fast killer but the sooner we can get moving on this the better I’ll feel.”
“We’ll be ready,” Lashpa replied.
“Well, I guess that means we must leave,” Kirth said.
“The ship’s robots can handle the preparations,” Lashpa replied. “We have enough time for you to see the rest of my ship.”
The tour continued for another half-hour. Kirth and Shava watched in amazement as a trio of robots quickly and efficiently prepared one of the two guest rooms, setting up two sleeping areas for the doctors. The stateroom Tom had used on the trip to Fanish was being completely cleared out to make room for three Rouldian biobeds.
As the group approached the ramp at the end of the tour, Kirth pointed to the opening in the floor and asked, “How do you keep out the cold air?”
“There’s a very weak force field across the entrance,” Lashpa explained. “It’s just strong enough to prevent the outside air from getting inside. The field also acts as an insulator.”
Kirth draped a heated blanket over his mate and then waited while she did the same for him. This was all the protection they needed from the cold. Being cyborgs, Tom and Lashpa needed no such protection. Ready for the weather, the group started down the ramp.
A truck was parked under the ship near the vertical cargo lift. Under the watchful eye of one of the ship’s robots, several workers were loading boxes onto the lift. Tom didn’t have to look over at his own ship to know that a similar truck was being unloaded there as well. At the end of the ramp, Tom and Lashpa bid Shava and Kirth goodbye.
“I’ve had a really good time,” Tom said, as they watched their two guests get into their car. The sky was clear but the still air had a crisp chill to it.
“My family likes you,” Lashpa replied. “Even Heshgerv eventually came around.”
They watched as Kirth drove the car to the edge of the starport landing field then turned around and parked. Another vehicle appeared and headed for Lashpa’s ship.
“That will be the doctors,” she announced. “We should be able to lift soon.”
“I see your parents are waiting. What do you think would impress them most, a simultaneous or a sequential lift off?”
“I think a slow simultaneous lift off with a low flyover above their car would be nice,” Lashpa replied. “I’ll inform the tower.”
Twenty minutes later, the two peacekeeper ships simultaneously lifted off the tarmac, paused as the landing struts were retracted, then slowly drifted over to where Lashpa’s parents were parked. Utilizing the ship’s exterior video cameras, Tom could clearly see Kirth and Shava standing outside the car. After pausing for just a moment, the two ships rose straight into the clear sky. The observers continued to watch until the two ships faded into invisibility.
Chapter 23
Pushing their stardrives to the limit, Tom and Lashpa raced through space at 3,950 times the speed of light. Even at this tremendous speed, the trip from Fanish to Karth would require a little over 30 hours. Tom’s two guest rooms had been converted into temporary cargo holds and were now packed with containers of fungicide and the equipment needed to apply it. According to his research, the entire base would have to be treated to prevent the deadly fungus from making a comeback.
Lashpa had offered her assistance in treating the base but a message from Karth politely but firmly refused her offer. The resident doctor had ordered a strict quarantine and nobody other than the two volunteers would be allowed to enter the base. Tom and Lashpa were instructed to land, unload their cargo on the surface, and then leave.
Despite the urgency of their unexpected trip, Tom was enjoying his time alone. With classical music playing in the background, he put the finishing touches on the house he’d been working on for weeks. It was a tiny replica of a beautiful country home he’d seen many years ago. His woodworking skills had improved and the house was allowing him to try out some different techniques.
Tom was sitting in the command chair listening to music and staring at a chessboard only he could see when the Orion said, “We’re approaching Karth. I predict checkmate in five moves. Would you like to resign?”
Tom was well aware of the impending checkmate but was still desperately trying to figure out a way to outwit the machine. “I resign,” he said, reaching out and tipping over his king. The virtual chessboard vanished as the king touched the nonexistent surface.
“Kill the music and give me a visual,” he ordered.
The soothing sounds of Bach faded away as the main screen showed a view of the monstrous planet they were approaching. The entire planet was shrouded in an atmosphere of brownish haze with streaks and swirls of lighter color sprinkled throughout. The disk grew noticeably larger as he watched. A few minutes later, a light speck appeared around the rim—the planet’s primary moon and their destination.
Lashpa’s face suddenly appeared on one of the monitors. “I have our landing coordinates,” she said. “Seventeen deaths so far and most of the population has contracted the disease.”
“How fast does this fungicide work?” Tom asked.
“The fungus will die off within minutes,” she replied. “But it will take a few days for the toxins to be cleared from those who’ve been infected. The treatment isn’t pleasant either.”
“I thought you just sprayed the fungicide around.”
“That kills off the spores in the air and on the surfaces,” she explained. “In order to kill the fungus that’s made its way inside someone’s body they’ll have to be treated with an injectable fungicide. The side effects are pretty nasty but what’s worse is that when the fungus dies it releases even more toxins. There is an anti-toxin but it’s only partially effective.”
“How did your people ever survive with this sort of disease?”
“It’s not native to our planet. It decimated several colonies before the source was discovered. Single spores can survive for many years until they encounter a suitable environment to cause germination. Even after years of extensive extermination efforts it occasionally makes an appearance.”
“Something like this could kill everyone in an entire city.”
“Even though it’s rarely seen today, all large population centers are required to maintain a stockpile of the fungicide with emergency plans to disperse it in case anyone is diagnosed with the fungus.”
“That explains how Fanish managed to come up with all the stuff we’re carrying.”
An hour and a half later, the Krish set down on the base’s small landing area. The Orion followed less than a minute later. Tom made his way to the airlock, opened a locker, and pulled out his spacesuit. It was nothing like a normal suit, consisting of only a backpack attached to a piece that fit over his chest like a vest and a helmet. The chest-piece locked itself in place forming an air-tight seal against his cybernetic limbs.
Tom grabbed the helmet off the hook and dropped it over his head. A quick twist of the locking ring sealed it and activated the interface with his cybernetics. A virtual HUD generated by the interface with his eyes appeared as the suit performed a quick diagnostic. A moment later Tom had indications that all the seals were good.
“Orion, depressurize the ship and begin unloading.”
Seeker-class ships were not designed to be used as cargo vessels; they possessed only a single personnel airlock. Opening the vertical cargo lift or the main entrance ramp would result in a rapid depressurization of the entire vessel. The light force field at the main entrance was not strong enough to withstand a high differential pressure. If it had been, it would have prevented anyone from entering or exiting the ship.
Acting on Tom’s command, the Orion’s AI closed and sealed the doors leading to most of the ship. The areas being used for cargo storage were left open. Large pumps pulled the air from the ship compressing and liquefying it so it could be stored and reused. Ten minutes later, the ramp dropped to the ground.
On
the surface, Tom looked over and saw that Lashpa was already unloading boxes from her ship’s vertical lift. “What took you so long?” she asked.
“I had to depressurize the ship,” he replied, making his way to the lift which was on its way down with its first load of cargo.
“I did that a long time ago. I didn’t want to waste any time at all getting these supplies unloaded.”
Tom grabbed a large box off the lift. “Guess I should’ve thought of that.”
It took less than 30 minutes to completely offload the medical supplies. Back aboard the ship, Tom patiently waited while the internal atmosphere was flushed and restored. As soon as the air pressure was high enough, the robots began spraying fungicide. Every centimeter of the ship both inside and out that could potentially have been exposed to even a single spore was treated with a light mist. A robot brandishing a sprayer approached. Tom put his arms over his head and slowly turned around as the robot released a fine spray in his direction.
“A robot from the base is in position to treat the landing pads,” the ship informed him.
“Go ahead and lift off,” Tom ordered.
“Acknowledged.”
The Orion lifted itself off the surface until the bottom of the landing pads were about a meter off the ground. As it hovered there, a robot from the base scraped the dirt off the pads then sprayed them with fungicide. As soon as the treatment was complete, the ship retracted the struts as it continued off into space.
“I recommend remaining suited for at least 20 minutes,” the ship suggested. “The fumes are not harmful but the smell is unpleasant. It will quickly evaporate and the smell should be tolerable by then.”
“Thanks for the warning,” Tom replied. “Set course for Glish. Match our speed with that of the Krish.”
