by Rachel Aukes
Throttle leaned back, frowning. She, like everyone else in the Trappist system, had been told that the Sol system had collapsed not long after the first three colony ships arrived on Alluvia. Somewhere along the line, somebody had rewritten history.
“All interstellar colonization efforts were then focused on the Proxima Centauri, Ross, Wolf, and Gliese systems.”
“We were headed to the Ross system when our ship suffered a cat fail,” she said.
“That is the nearest colonized system. At least one planet and several orbital colonies have been developed in that system.”
Throttle sat in silence for a moment. She’d often wondered if the planet they sought was habitable, but she’d never contemplated that it would already be inhabited.
“Captain, my sensors indicate crew member Michael Birkelli has left the ship and is now using a laser cutter to etch my hull.”
“His name’s Birk,” she corrected. Her brow knit together for a brief moment before she guffawed. She tapped her wrist-comm. “Birk, don’t tell me you’re naming the ship already.”
“Any ship of ours has to have a name. It’s the right and proper thing to do. Besides, it’d be bad luck to fly a ship with no name.”
She smiled. “And what name did you come up with?”
“Throttle, I’d like you to meet—drumroll, please—the Javelin,” he said with dramatic effect.
She considered it for a moment. “I like it. Now, hurry up and get inside.”
“Aye, aye, Captain.”
She could hear the sarcasm in his voice.
“Throttle?” Rusty asked.
“What?” she said.
“I thought you named me Rusty, but Birk has named me Javelin. Which is it?”
“That’s because we see you—the ship’s computer—as a part of the overall ship,” she answered.
“I understand that rationale, however I’m not separate from the ship. As much as your body requires your mind to function, the ship requires my operating system to perform. In a way, it’s like calling your mind a different name from your body.”
“Think of it this way. Your legal name’s the Javelin. Your nickname’s Rusty because I like it. Just like my real name is Halit, but I go by Throttle. Does that make sense?”
“Ah, yes. That makes sense. But I should clarify that my name is SR9104-73.”
“No one’s going to call you that because no one will be able to remember that.”
“Captain,” Eddy said.
“What’s your update?” she asked.
“I’ve had to tape a few wires together, but we should be good as long as we take it easy.”
“Good.” She glanced up at the speaker. “Rusty, can you read your nav and comm systems?”
“I’m attempting to reboot and connect my systems now.”
Long moments passed. Lights flickered.
“All systems operational, Throttle. To where should I set our course?”
“Set it for the Gabriela. Its location should still be in the Scorpia’s nav database.”
“I’ve accessed the location and am running a locator now.” A short pause. “Captain, the ship is no longer in that location.”
Throttle bolted forward. “Then where is it?”
“Energy trails indicate it is moving in a trajectory consistent with your flight path to the Ross system before you diverted to my location.”
“It’s running under its own power?”
“That seems to be the case. I’m reading two energy trails in close proximity. It’s either flying in formation with or being towed by another ship.”
“The Gabriela suffered a cat fail. She can’t fly on her own.” An icy cold built within her that slowed her breath. “Help was nearby. We never should’ve left them.”
In a sudden rush, she tapped her wrist-comm. “Attention, all crew. Wrap up what you’re doing and report to the bridge. We’re going to jump as soon as everyone’s buckled in.”
Throttle stared out the front window. Those sleepers were her responsibility, and she’d left them alone while they sought help. Whoever found them might not know how to protect the pods and could do something that would cause them harm. They had to get back to the Gabriela.
She inhaled deeply. “Rusty, plot an intercept course. We’re going after our people.”
Chapter Five
Throttle came awake to the sound of her cabin door opening. She rubbed her eyes and saw Birk’s silhouette in the doorway.
She came up on an elbow as he stepped inside the dark room.
“Rusty, turn on the lights,” he said.
The room remained dark.
“I mean it.”
No change.
Birk blew out a breath. “I’m sorry for what I said earlier.”
The lights came on.
She smirked. “What’d you say to Rusty?”
“I threatened to change the name on the hull from Javelin to Broomstick.”
“Why?”
“Because for being a computer, Rusty can be hardheaded and stupid.”
“Sylvian says it’ll work a lot better once she has a chance to install new data protocols,” she said. “I take it we’ll be dropping out of jump speed soon.”
He shook his head. “We don’t drop out for well over an hour.”
“Then why’d you wake me?”
A sly grin emerged. “I thought we could take advantage of that time.”
She smiled. “Rusty, lights off.”
The room went dark.
“Why does Rusty always do what you tell it to do?” he asked.
“Maybe because I enunciate my words. Now do you want to talk, or do you want to…”
An hour later, Throttle and Birk left their cabin and walked toward the bridge. With every step, her left brace clicked.
Birk glanced down at her leg and frowned. “One of your braces has a hitch in it.”
She shrugged. “It’s no big deal. Probably just needs to be greased.”
“I’ll take it apart later to take a look.”
They reached the bridge and found Nolin and Sylvian sitting at stations they’d each chosen for themselves.
“Even with the right numbers programmed in, Rusty tends to drift. I have to make adjustments every now and then to keep on course,” Nolin was telling Sylvian.
“I’m not surprised,” Sylvian said. “The deeper I go into uploading the Scorpia’s data into Rusty’s systems, the more holes I see. Rusty’s done a good job at patching itself, but it needs full diagnostics run across all its systems. And Eddy says it needs a lot more than two pieces of hardware that it couldn’t build for itself. If only we had the printer that’s back on the Gabriela, then we’d have the Javelin primed in a month.”
“How are we looking on this latest jump?” Throttle said as she strolled toward her chair.
“All systems are handling the jump within acceptable parameters,” Rusty said.
Nolin spoke. “We’re making faster than expected progress even with having to make shorter jumps due to not having any maps of this system. According to Rusty, the Javelin’s jump engine can achieve point three nine light speed, which is significantly faster than either the Scorpia or Gabriela could achieve. That difference adds up quickly when we’re talking about crossing multiple sectors—or quadrants in Rusty’s lingo. After we drop out of this jump, we should be back within communication range of the Gabriela.”
“We’ve been lucky,” Sylvian added. “The reno-bots may have rebuilt much of the ship, but they can’t rebuild data and protocols. Nearly every routine is running with gaps. Rusty has developed a response program that skips over any runtime error to prevent freezes. If Eddy hadn’t managed to hardwire the Scorpia’s components to the Javelin, any sort of flight would be impossible. I’ve been running an import of all the Scorpia’s data to fill in the gaps in the Javelin’s systems. But the technology is different enough, I could be just as easily introducing new problems as I am fixing the old ones. Basically, w
e’re beta testing a new ship, and we’re going to have bugs. At least we haven’t been having glitches with the environmentals like we’ve been having with our jumps.” She tapped the helmet she had placed at the edge of her panel.
“You have nothing to fear, Sylvian,” Rusty said. “The environmental system is one of my least complicated systems. I know humans can survive only within very narrow ranges of atmosphere, pressure, temperature, and gravity. Maintaining these ranges became quite simple once my hull was sealed and I established a baseline. Boosted speed, on the other hand, requires numerous variables and complicated algorithms in feeding power to the engine while simultaneously monitoring the current sector for risks. Even my advanced processors require many hours to perform virtual tests of all calibrations.”
Throttle’s wrist-comm chimed. She read the screen before tapping to accept the communication. “How’s it going back there, Eddy?”
“The Frankenstein patches are barely holding. The quadriscope shimmies and shakes every time we go into and drop out of jump speed. I need some more hands back here to help strap things down.”
She glanced at Birk, who nodded and hustled off the bridge.
“Birk’s headed your way now.”
“I could use any extra help you can send.”
“Can the bots also assist?” she asked.
“I’m using all of them already.”
“Okay. More help’s coming. Just hold it together.” She changed her comm channel to call out to three other crew members. “Aubree, Garrett, Finn, I need you to give Eddy a hand in engineering.”
“We’re nearly done unloading a crate in the galley. If we leave it, food packets could break when we drop out of jump speed,” Aubree responded.
“Then one of you stay behind and finish in the galley. The other two go help Eddy—keeping the hardware from falling apart is the priority right now. And hurry. We’ll be dropping out of jump speed in five minutes.”
“On our way, boss,” Garrett said.
On the Gabriela, hardware broke due to wear and tear. On the Javelin, they didn’t even have all the necessary hardware to begin with.
Throttle blew out a breath. “Rusty, how are the systems looking for our drop?”
“There are no red alerts. However, I have three yellow alerts, which are occurring due to incongruencies between my protocols and the Scorpia’s. My systems have found the obsolete configuration that was applied in the small ship challenging to incorporate,” the ship’s command center replied.
“That ship may seem obsolete to you, but it’s never let me down before, and it’s gotten you into jump speed. Speaking of jump speed, before we drop out, I want you to confirm that the Gabriela won’t shoot right through us.”
“Our flight path will run one hundred kilometers from the flight path of the other ship,” Rusty said.
Nolin added, “I’ve double-checked Rusty’s numbers, because we were off a smidge a couple of jumps back, but I think I’ve got the calcs zeroed in now. We have to be close enough that their systems will auto-drop them out of jump speed, but not put us in harm’s way.”
“We’ll transition from jump speed in five minutes. All crew members should be secured for their safety,” Rusty broadcast throughout the ship.
Throttle fastened her seat harness, and she saw Nolin and Sylvian do the same. She watched the countdown and grabbed onto her armrests in the seconds before the transition. The lights dimmed, the constant hum of the jump engine cut off, and the bridge rattled. A moment later, the lights returned to normal.
Throttle’s brows rose. “That was the smoothest transition yet.”
“I’ve been having Rusty work on adjusting the calculations,” Sylvian said. “The challenge is we’re using the Scorpia’s numbers for a much bigger ship, and without its full operating system, Rusty has to basically guess at where to adjust, and I’ve had to program in some wide buffers for estimates. It looks like its guesses are finally starting to work out.”
“I’m not really guessing,” Rusty said. “I calibrate my systems based on historical data and predictive analysis and then use iterations to gather new data.”
“Sounds a lot like guessing to me,” Throttle said. “Where’s the Gabriela now?”
“I have picked up an object moving at jump speed within this subsector and moving in direct line to our current position. It should intercept in eight seconds.”
Throttle’s eyes widened. “Wait. We don’t want to be in a direct line—”
The stars through the bridge window suddenly wavered, and two ships appeared just off the Javelin’s bow. The ships veered off to the right, narrowly missing a head-on collision with Throttle’s ship.
Throttle let out a breath. “Nolin, I think you need to keep tweaking those flight calculations.”
“Uh, yeah. I’ll get right on that,” Nolin said breathlessly.
Throttle slowly relaxed her fingers that had been gripping her armrest. She looked out the window to see the two ships turn back as one toward the Javelin. The larger ship was the Gabriela, which looked like a massive gray whale compared to the much smaller ship in formation with it. The other ship, similar in size to the Javelin, was painted a flat black and could’ve easily been missed if she hadn’t been looking for it.
A rock formed in her gut. Most ships were painted brighter colors to be visible from a distance. Very few ships tried to blend into the black. The Scorpia was one of them, and it, too, was painted black. She bit the inside of her cheek. “Rusty, what can you tell me about the ship next to the Gabriela?”
“I currently have no registry of space-capable makes and models. My scans indicate it is most likely a trading vessel. That’s odd for a trading vessel: it has several projectile-type weapons, likely machine guns with magnetic ammunition rounds.”
Throttle swallowed.
“Pirates,” Birk gritted out.
She swung around to see him enter the bridge with a scowl on his face.
“I hate pirates,” Nolin said. Then throwing a quick glance at Birk, he added, “Other pirates, I mean.”
Throttle pursed her lips. “They know we’re here, so let’s see who we’re dealing with. Rusty, ping them.”
After a lengthy silence, Rusty spoke. “There has been no response to your communication request even though I’m confident they received it.”
“Relay the following voice message, then,” Throttle said. “To the rescuers of the Gabriela. We thank you for your assistance. We’d like to inquire as to the health of the passengers on board the ship. Please open a communication channel so we can discuss options to retrieve our passengers.”
“My sensors show that they are opening weapons bays,” Rusty announced. “I assume that’s not a friendly response.”
“Guess they’re not interested in talking,” Throttle said. “Shields up.”
“I have no shields.”
She winced. “Old habits.”
“My hull density is four point six times denser than anything my scans pick up on their ship.”
“Does that take into account the impact power of each of those projectiles they’re about to fire at us?” she asked.
A brief pause. “There is a risk of penetration. Alert: Shots have been fired.”
Throttle nosed the ship up as she heard the peppering of metal on metal outside the Javelin.
“Did any shots breach the hull?” she asked.
“My systems report no breaches, though the rounds have dented the hull,” Rusty said. “I would also like you to know that evasive maneuvers are impractical, as the magnetic rounds travel at far greater speeds than the maneuvers my nav engines are capable of making.”
“Shut up,” Throttle said before mumbling, “I’d rather do something than just sitting around and waiting to get shot to pieces.”
“Whatever’s going on up there, make it stop. My hardware is getting jarred around back here!” Eddy’s voice came through Throttle’s wrist-comm.
She ignored him as she l
eveled the Javelin to see the pirate ship and the Gabriela turn away.
Sylvian pointed. “See how the ships are flying in perfect concert? The pirates must be running some kind of harness program that links the Gabriela’s flight controls to the other ship.”
“Can you cut the connection?” Throttle asked.
Sylvian thought for a moment. “I could broadcast noise on all frequencies. It might not work, but then again, they’re just sending a digital signal, so it might do the trick.”
Throttle pointed at the tech. “Do it.”
“Working on it,” Sylvian said.
Throttle pointed at how the stars wavered. “What’s that distortion over there?”
Rusty answered, “It appears to be a space bend.”
“What the heck’s a space bend?” Birk asked.
Throttle shook her head. “I don’t care what it is. I want to know why those ships are headed for it.”
“A space bend is a rudimentary wormhole, not unlike a primordial black hole, that shortens the distance between two nearby star systems. I believe the reason that pirate ship is out this far is because it traveled through the space bend. Otherwise, it would’ve taken them years to get out this far from any colonies whose radio chatter I’ve picked up.”
The two ships outside the Javelin’s window shuddered and then disappeared into the black.
“Damn it! Sorry. They jumped. I didn’t get it in time,” Sylvian exclaimed.
“Follow them,” Throttle ordered.
Birk leaned against the wall, his arms folded over his chest. “We’d better be careful. I’d lay bets on that pirate ship having a few tricks up its sleeve. There’s no way it randomly came across the Gabriela’s emergency beacon.”
“Then how’d it find it?” Nolin asked. “There were no ships nearby when it went into cat fail.”
Birk’s lips curled. “It probably has stealth capabilities. I bet it picked up on the Gabriela some time back, snuck up alongside, and used that harness program to mimic a cat fail. Any good hacker could pull something like that off, and pirates always have good hackers. My guess is they used the cat fail to get the crew to abandon ship so that they had a cargo ship ripe for the pickings without any risk whatsoever to themselves. It’s a smart plan. It’s exactly the sort of thing I’d try if I were still a pirate.”
