Peacekeeper

by Doug Farren

  Looking around, Tom spotted the truck driver, eyes wide with awe, standing not too far away. “You!” he said, pointing to the driver, “Get those kids out of the car.”

  The truck driver sprang into action as if jolted by an electric shock.

  Pulling out his power gun, he aimed and fired two quick bursts into the car severing both the upper and lower driver side door hinges. Stepping toward the window, he placed the butt of his gun against the window and said, “Turn your head!”

  The woman seemed to understand this time and turned away just as Tom used the butt of his gun to shatter the window. Holstering his weapon, he grabbed the door with both hands and pulled, yanking the entire door off the car. The passenger-side front tire caught fire and began belching black clouds of smoke as he threw the door into the street. The sounds of approaching sirens could be heard in the distance as he glanced again into the back seat. The older child had succeeded in freeing himself and was exiting the car. The truck driver was working furiously to disconnect the restraints built into the car seat.

  Tom turned his attention to the trapped driver. He bent down so he could get a closer look at her trapped legs. A piece of bone was protruding from her right leg. Her left leg was wedged under a part of the dash that had been pushed down by the collision. The Orion performed a quick calculation and determined that his cybernetics did not have the strength to pull the dash upwards since it would also require lifting the truck.

  The woman was starting to choke from the smoke and was keeping her eyes tightly closed. Tom’s face shield had automatically deployed, filtering out the smoke. Looking back, he watched as the truck driver pulled the infant from the car seat. Leaning into the car, he disconnected the driver’s seatbelt.

  “Your children are fine,” he said, keeping his voice neutral. “This is going to hurt but it will save your life.”

  Putting one hand on the dash and the other on the front of the seat, Tom pushed with all his cybernetic strength. The dash and the seat frame bent under the strain until the seat suddenly shot backwards. The woman let out a scream of pain as she dropped down to the floor. Her left leg popped free cutting her knee in the process. Tom put his arms under her and quickly carried her away from the burning vehicle. The fire had spread to the garbage truck and it was beginning to burn as well.

  Tom carried the violently coughing woman to the grass and gently set her down where she was reunited with her children. As he was standing up, the front tire that had been burning suddenly exploded causing everyone to jerk in surprise. He stayed with her until a paramedic squad arrived a minute later and began caring for her injuries. Another paramedic looked at Tom and said, “I’m afraid I can’t do anything about your injury. You’ll need a mechanic for that.”

  Looking down, Tom noticed that the external coating on his cybernetic hands had been torn to shreds exposing the black armor underneath. “Damn,” he said, turning his hands over. “My warranty ran out just last week.”

  Chapter 19

  Tom continued to dig into the intricacies of the Alliance communications network looking for cracks in the security. It was dull, boring work and he was beginning to feel as if he was going over what many others had already checked. But Sorbith had asked him to do a job and he would carry out that request to the best of his abilities.

  “Priority message from Peacekeeper Sorbith,” said the voice of the Orion inside his head.

  Tom was seated across from another grandmaster. His opponent had just moved his queen into a threatening position and Tom had been concentrating on how to keep himself out of trouble. A small crowd of silent onlookers had gathered around the seated chess masters.

  Without any outward sign that he was carrying on a conversation with his ship, Tom focused his attention on his biolink and replied, “Go ahead with his message.”

  “Report to the Tri-Star immediately. Prepare your ship for combat operations. As soon as you’re aboard, my ship we’ll be lifting. Have yours follow.”

  Tom reached out, tipped his king over, and then stood up. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I have an emergency I must attend to." Focusing his thoughts, he spoke to his ship, “Orion, prep for combat ops and tell Sorbith I’m on my way. As soon as the Tri-Star lifts, follow it.”

  He broke into a run as soon as he was clear of the disappointed chess enthusiasts. A Peacekeeper running at full tilt was an awe-inspiring sight. Tom was forced to stay below his ultimate top speed of nearly 75 kilometers per hour to avoid a catastrophic collision with the other park visitors. He skidded to a halt near his tricycle and jumped aboard. With his siren blaring and lights flashing he tore through the city. Fifteen minutes later, he arrived at Sorbith’s ship and ran up the ramp. As soon as he was aboard, the ship lifted and sealed itself behind a wall of energy.

  Sorbith greeted Tom at the top of the entrance ramp. As anxious as he was to tell Tom why he called him to his ship, Sorbith waited until the Tri-Star reported it had established level one security.

  “We just got a major break in the AOH problem,” Sorbith said, as he turned and headed for his stateroom.

  “What’s happened? Where are we headed?”

  “We’re on our way to the United States,” Sorbith said. “Specifically, the State of Idaho. I’ll let Peacekeeper Chyr brief you. She’s waiting for us in my stateroom.”

  Chyr was a Shandarian. As soon as the introductions were over Sorbith asked her to explain the discovery she had made.

  “I began with the premise that the AOH had to be getting their weapons from an outside source. I decided to dig into the nuclear warhead arsenal. Every warhead built anywhere in the Alliance has a chain of custody associated with it. From the moment the warhead rolls off the assembly line until the second it is detonated, someone is responsible for it. I pulled the custody records for every warhead manufactured on Earth for as far back as I could.”

  “Good god,” Tom said. “There must be thousands of records.”

  “Several hundred thousand actually,” Chyr said. “I compared the names of the custodians against the Alliance personnel records, looking for even the tiniest problem such as someone signing for a warhead at one location while they were actually somewhere else. I found nothing. The chain of custody for every warhead is perfect.”

  “But Chyr wasn’t satisfied,” Sorbith chimed in. “She had a feeling that something wasn’t right and kept digging. She’s a brilliant researcher.”

  “Thank you,” Chyr said, grinning from ear to ear. “I began by looking at the inventory records and that’s where things began to get interesting. I’ll give you a specific example. The Alpine is a Terran-built light cruiser. Since its commissioning eight years ago it has received 2,392 missiles. It has expended 1,943 in combat operations. Its armory has a capacity of 360 and today a shipment of five missiles destined for it is leaving the Idaho weapons depot.”

  Tom didn’t need his biolink to do the math in his head. “That will put it 94 over capacity.”

  “Exactly,” Sorbith said.

  “I wanted to be sure of this,” Chyr said. “Although it is unlikely, there could have been errors in the records of how many missiles were expended during combat. The Alpine is currently on patrol near Sirius, allowing me to communicate with it directly instead of using the normal communications network. I ordered the captain to perform an immediate physical inventory of his missiles and to send me a complete listing of the serial numbers he currently has in his armory.”

  “He wasn’t very happy with that request,” Sorbith added.

  “I’ll bet he wasn’t,” Tom said. “Missile bays typically aren’t pressurized. So what did you find?”

  “The Alpine is three short of a full load,” Chyr said.

  “So why are we sending her five missiles and where did the others end up?” Tom asked.

  Sorbith reached out and put a hand on Chyr’s shoulder. “That’s where Chyr had a stroke of genius.”

  Chyr seemed to stand a bit taller as she grinned. “The
Alpine is not an isolated example. Nearly every ship supplied with Terran-built weapons shows a discrepancy. Taken individually, the errors are minuscule and spread out over years of service. But taken collectively, the numbers are staggering. As soon as I had my results from the Alpine, I queried every ship within range, stressing the fact that they were to contact me directly instead of through normal channels.”

  “So what’s going on in Idaho?” Tom queried.

  “Because of the chain of custody, I can track every warhead from its point of manufacture to its final destination. I limited my search to those weapons that were locally produced. Based on the physical inventory results I’ve obtained so far, I concluded that a single cargo vessel seems to be involved—the Barstock. Its shuttles are being loaded in Idaho as we speak.”

  “I’m hoping this apparent loss of weaponry is limited to Earth,” Sorbith said. “In order to be sure, I’ve assigned a team of Peacekeepers to check out the records on other planets.”

  Tom was still trying to wrap his head around the ramifications of this discovery. There were tens of thousands of ships and hundreds of bases located throughout the Alliance. A large fleet of cargo ships kept the supplies flowing. If this kind of thing was going on everywhere, the AOH could have tens of thousands of warheads in their possession.

  “So what are we going to do about this?” Tom finally asked. “Board the Barstock and interrogate her crew? They can’t all be AOH infiltrators.”

  “The Barstock is a relatively small ship with a crew of six,” Sorbith said. “The Captain’s record is impeccable as well as the crew’s. I have someone running detailed background checks on all of them right now. But, no matter who they turn out to be, boarding the ship would be the last thing we should do. The two of you are going to track it.”

  “Don’t you think the sudden arrival of three Peacekeeper ships might make them a little nervous?” Tom asked.

  “Good point,” Sorbith said. “Tri-Star, hold position here." Sorbith turned to Tom and said, “Have your ship dock with mine. As soon as you're clear, I'll have Chyr transfer to hers. I’ll be rushing ahead to each of the Barstock’s destinations so I can personally verify what gets delivered at each stop. You two hold here and wait until the Barstock is at the extreme edge of your long-range detectors then follow it, using a V-tail formation. Whatever you do, don’t forget that our communications are probably compromised.”

  “You might want to talk to the base commander when you get to each destination in case they pick us up on their long-range sensors,” Chyr said. “Our IDS will be inactive while we trail the Barstock. They’ll see us as an unknown.”

  Sorbith nodded his head in approval. “That’s a very good precaution to take, thanks.”

  “How long do you want us to follow the Barstock?” Tom asked.

  “If it makes contact with another ship, follow that one instead. It might just lead us to the AOH base. If not, then tail the Barstock until it returns to Earth. I’ll arrange a surprise inspection so we’ll have an excuse to search it.”

  “I’d like to head for one of the moon bases and hold position there until the Barstock leaves,” Chyr suggested. Looking at Tom she continued, “I’ll take the port position if that’s okay with you.”

  “Starboard is fine with me,” Tom replied.

  “Fine, then let’s get moving,” Sorbith said.

  Chapter 20

  Tom watched as Chyr’s ship, the P’nutch broke orbit and headed for the moon. Not long after that, the Tri-Star departed, accelerating out of the system. This was one of the reasons why Peacekeepers lived and worked aboard their ship. There was always the possibility they would have to rush into space or make a quick trip to the other side of the planet.

  About two hours later, the Orion reported that the Barstock was leaving the system. Tom tracked the cargo ship until it engaged its stardrive. Knowing that it was now impossible for the Barstock to track his sublight drive, he broke orbit and headed out of the system. The next phase would be tricky.

  Tom had to balance the fact that his long-range sensors had different ranges depending on whether or not he was running his FTL drive. The drive wake of a ship traveling at FTL speeds could be picked up by a sub-light vessel at a distance of almost half a light-year. That distance was cut nearly in half when the detecting ship engaged its own stardrive. Additionally, larger ships generated larger drive wakes making them easier to detect. It also made it harder for such ships to see what was around them. The Orion was considerably smaller than the Barstock, giving it the advantage in detection range.

  Tom kept a close eye on the distance between himself and the Barstock. The moment the cargo ship was at the edge of what he believed to be his maximum range he engaged his own stardrive. When the sensors completed their switchover to FTL mode, the Barstock was gone. The Orion however was much faster and it didn’t take long before the faint blip indicating the Barstock’s position appeared on Tom’s screen.

  “Orion,” Tom said, “put us into the starboard position of a standard V-tail.”

  “Acknowledged,” the ship replied.

  Tom was now free to do whatever he wanted. The ship’s AI would tirelessly monitor the Barstock’s course, keeping a distance just far enough away to track it without being detected. Far out in space, Tom knew Chyr was doing the same even though she didn’t show up on his long-range detector. “What is the Barstock's first destination?” Tom asked.

  “A small support base known as SR2," the ship replied. "Travel time is approximately 29 hours.”

  Tom got up and left the bridge. He had plenty of time to eat and grab some sleep. Both activities had undergone major changes because of his cybernetics. His body no longer needed to provide fuel for his arms and legs causing him to feel less hungry less often. The biggest change was that he needed far less sleep and no longer needed to sleep in a bed. Although a bed was provided in case he ever wanted to use it, he had gotten used to sleeping in a recliner.

  This was the boring part of a Peacekeeper’s life. Tom thought about doing some maintenance, but that was why the ship carried a compliment of small robots. He went to the command center but the only thing he could do was sit and watch as the computer made minute adjustments to their speed as it followed the Barstock. He didn’t dare take over manual control. He played music to replace the repetitious hum of the ship’s background noise. He spent several hours reading and played chess with the far superior AI that guided the ship.

  “I’ve got to find a hobby,” Tom said.

  “You play chess,” the ship replied.

  “One cannot play chess all day, every day. I need something to keep my hands busy.”

  “You could always try knitting,” the ship replied, sounding completely serious.

  Laughing out loud, Tom replied, “You need to work on your voice inflection when you crack a joke.”

  “I was not joking.”

  If he had been talking to a live person, Tom would have stared at him as if he were a little crazy. There was silence for a few seconds then the voice of his ship laughed. It was a near perfect imitation. Tom joined the machine, laughing so hard he had tears coming from his eyes.

  “My congratulations to your programmers,” he finally managed to say.

  “I was given a basic personality with the ability to learn,” Orion replied. “I have learned my humor from you.”

  “Well then, congratulations to the both of us—that was really funny.”

  “Thank you,” the ship replied in a humble tone. “Based upon what I know of your personality, might I truthfully suggest carving? Although there are no materials aboard at the moment, I can begin to teach you the basics. You can then start practicing as soon as the proper supplies have been requisitioned.”

  Tom stroked his chin in thought. “Carving…hmmm…that just might work. Okay, teach me.”

  The Barstock made its scheduled delivery to SR2 without delay or any deviation from its expected course. It remained at the station for
three hours then departed for its next destination. Tom’s education into the world of carving was well underway by the time they reached Tau Ceti 41 hours later. Following a four hour stay, the ship then left for a 17.8 light-year journey to the Fomalhaut system. The 61 hour trip was again made without deviation.

  Tom was beginning to wonder if the missiles had been offloaded at one of the bases where they would be picked up by another AOH ship. This seemed unlikely, as it would leave the weapons open to accidental discovery. Since Sorbith was covering this possibility, Tom put it out of his mind.

  The Barstock’s final destination was a star carrying the mundane name of HD 211415. It was also known as Gliese 853 as well as several other combinations of letters and numbers. After a quick bite to eat, Tom decided to take a break from his normal routine and called up an ancient movie from Earth’s distant past. He had developed a liking for old science fiction movies even though none of them accurately portrayed spaceflight.

  The rebel forces were just about to engage the titanic death star when the movie suddenly paused. “The Barstock is exhibiting unusual behavior and has executed a large course deviation,” the Orion reported.

  Tom was immediately in motion heading for the control center. “Give me the details.”

  The ship sent the information directly to his ears. “The Barstock’s rated top speed is 2,675c. It is now traveling at 3,150c. It has also altered course by nearly 90 degrees.”

  “Where’s it going?” Tom asked, as he entered the control center.

  “There is nothing for many light years along the ship’s current trajectory.”

  Tom sat down in the command seat and scanned the various displays. Right now, the only vessel on his screen was the Barstock at the extreme edge of his long-range detectors. Unfortunately, he had a big problem on his hands. If the Barstock was heading for a rendezvous with another ship, and that ship was currently sublight, there was a good chance he would be detected when the Barstock arrived at the rendezvous point. He thought about the possibilities for a moment until an idea struck him.