by Jim Proctor
A terrible thought struck Nolan. They planted a tracking device on the ship! That’s why I got out of the system so easily. They let me get away! He sank into his chair again. Why would they do that? Because they think I know where Carl is, and they think I will lead them to him. Okay, Nolan, you are a scientist. You have a hypothesis. How do you test that hypothesis? You make another jump. If they are following you, they’ll jump, too.
He looked at the sensor screen again, verifying that his shadow was still there. He went back to the star chart and calculated a new jump that would take him farther from SACOM-controlled space. Then, after another glance at the sensor screen, he executed the new jump.
Turning quickly to the sensor screen, he noted the time and watched for his companion to appear. Seconds ticked away, and still he watched. A minute passed without any indication of the other ship, and he relaxed, accepting that the ship’s initial appearance had been a coincidence, however unlikely. He turned to his navigation screen and began recalculating the jumps to his destination when the sensor system chimed and the ship appeared on the edge of the sensor screen. A quick check of the Keyser fluctuations showed that, once again, it had come out of hyperspace in that spot.
“Son of a bitch!” he shouted. His heart was racing as panic set in. Talking out loud to himself, he said, “Science, Nolan, science. What do you know for a fact?” His right leg was bouncing as it often did when he was thinking under stress. “Well… number one, they couldn’t have followed me through a hyperspace jump. So, what does that mean? It means they have a tracking device on this ship that is capable of communicating through hyperspace. The Independence has no hyperspace comm system, so their device must have its own hyperspace transmitter.” His leg stopped bouncing, and he smiled. “A hyperspace transmitter would draw a ton of power, so I just need to check for an unusual power draw somewhere on the ship!”
Bringing up the ship’s diagnostic program, he reviewed power consumption of each active system, looking for any system that was drawing far more power than it should. There was none. That makes no sense. His right leg began bouncing again. They tracked me through hyperspace, so there must be a hyperspace transmitter somewhere. His leg bounced faster. Or… maybe not. What if they are using a simple radio transmitter that connects to their hyperspace relay network? How much power would that take? The control system for aiming the ship’s high-gain antennas is off, so they can’t be using those. That means they must have some quasi-isotropic radiator somewhere on the ship’s hull. Given the distance between hyperspace relays, using an isotropic radiator… they must be transmitting fifty watts, at least. I should be able to find that.
He looked at the sensor screen to see that the ship was still holding its position. On the last jump, it took more than a minute for them to arrive. After I execute a jump, it must take some time for the tracker to establish contact with a relay before it can send my position. Then the crew of the other ship has to calculate and enter their jump parameters. One minute sounds about right. Okay, friend, it’s time to play ‘Where the hell did Nolan go?’
Looking at the star chart, he highlighted the position of SACOM’s hyperspace relays. He calculated a series of jumps that would take him well beyond the relay network. The first two jumps would each take him near a relay. That was unavoidable. However, he would pause for no more than two seconds between jumps. If he were right about their tracking system, their game of chase would be over.
With the parameters entered and checked, he gave the ship’s core authorization to execute all three jumps in succession. The image on the main view screen shifted three times. Turning to the sensor screen, he watched and waited for the alarm.
Five minutes passed without any sign of the other ship. Still he waited. Five more minutes passed before he began to relax. As a precaution, he calculated one more jump to take him even farther from the relay network. After this jump, he would look for their tracker and disable it.
This final jump took him to the edge of the charted galaxy. With the sensor system watching for his companion, he returned to the diagnostic program and began looking for a much smaller extra power draw. Looking through the active systems, he eventually found that the food synthesizer was drawing nearly one hundred watts more than specification. It wasn’t enough to generate a warning, so he hadn’t seen it before.
Idiots! Scabbing power from the food synthesizer of a hyperspace ship was stupid. I could be anywhere in the known galaxy in a few minutes. If I had brought a bag of sandwiches and a few bottles of water with me, I could have gone anywhere without ever turning the food synthesizer on. Then there is the fact that I am alone on a ship designed for a crew of twelve. I sure as hell know I’m not preparing a meal right now. If they had tapped into the power for life support, I sure as hell wouldn’t be turning that off. Plus, an extra hundred watts on a major system would be harder to spot. Amateurs!
With the touch of a finger, he powered down the food synthesizer. There was still no alarm from the sensor system. He went through the diagnostics one more time, making sure there were no more extraneous power draws. There could be a second tracker.
Satisfied that the ship was now silent, Nolan entered the new registration data into the ship’s core. He checked the star chart and calculated a series of jumps to take him to Pax.
Chapter 8
The cabin was awash with orange light when Megan awoke. Looking through the front windscreen, she watched as dawn broke in all its splendor. “A new day, full of hope,” she said. Climbing out of bed, she dressed and brushed her hair in preparation for her visit to the diner. She opened the door and stepped out, and then closed it again. As she walked past the fueling unit, the door to the small building opened and Hank stepped out. Shelby pushed between his legs and raced to greet Megan. She knelt and held her arms out as Shelby nearly pushed her over. Her tail was wagging frantically and she licked Megan’s face. “Okay, girl, settle down! I’m happy to see you, too.”
“Morning,” Hank said as he stopped a few feet away. “She loves to say good morning to everyone she meets.”
“Well, good morning, Shelby,” she said as she held the dog’s cheeks between her palms. Shelby pushed forward and began licking Megan’s face again.
“You headed to the diner for breakfast?” Hank asked.
“Yes, I am.”
“What about your friend?” he said, nodding in the direction of her aircar.
Megan hadn’t expected to run into Hank this morning. He must sleep in that shed, she thought. “Oh, he’s still asleep. He’s not feeling well, I’m afraid. I think it’s motion sickness. He gets it every time we fly.”
“Is that all? They have medicine that prevents motion sickness,” he said.
“Yes… well… Nolan is allergic to it. He tried it, once. He broke out in a rash,” she lied.
Hank nodded, as though he’d seen this before.
“I’ll bring him something when I come back. Are you going to the diner?” she asked.
Hank shook his head. “Naw. Shelby and I already ate. Didn’t we, girl?” He pointed over his shoulder with a thumb toward the shack. “I made pancakes. Shelby loves pancakes.”
Megan smiled as she rubbed Shelby’s neck. “So do I.”
“Shelby and I have some work to do. Enjoy your breakfast,” he said. “Come on, girl, let’s go for a ride.” At the sound of the last word, Shelby jumped and spun in a circle, barking wildly. “You want to go for a ride?” Shelby barked once more and then bolted across the pads, stopping beside an old blue truck. She began pawing at the door as Hank neared. He opened it, and Shelby jumped up onto the seat. “Move over,” he said, “unless you’re planning to drive!”
Megan turned and continued on her way to the diner.
* * * *
Megan stepped into the diner and looked around. There were a few empty booths, but she took a seat at the counter and picked up a menu.
“I’ll be right with you, honey,” the waitress said as she was carry
ing a tray out of the kitchen.
The breakfast menu was about what she had expected, typical diner fare. She was deciding between hotcakes and waffles when a friendly voice said, “Okay, honey, what can I get for you?”
Megan lowered the menu and looked into the smiling face of the waitress. “Good morning…” Her eyes drifted down to the woman’s name tag, “…Alice. I think I’ll have the waffles and some coffee.”
“Okay, hon. I’ll get that for you,” Alice said. She picked up a mug from a rack, filled it with steaming coffee, and returned. “You want cream and sugar?”
“No, thank you,” Megan answered.
“Okay, hon. I’ll be back with your waffles in a couple of minutes,” Alice said as she turned and walked quickly to the other end of the counter to refill a customer’s coffee.
Megan began to suspect that Alice was the only waitress on duty. With half the booths occupied, she had her hands full, especially if this was the breakfast rush. She took a sip of her coffee and moaned. Oh, this is good, she thought as she took another sip. Holding the mug between her hands and letting the warmth soak into her fingers, she took another sip.
Alice bustled out of the kitchen with another tray, set the plates quickly on a table, and then rushed back. Megan looked out through the diner’s window. Most of the color had drained from the sky, replaced by pale blue. An aircar began to move from its pad, heading toward the taxi lane. Nearby, the lights of another aircar came on as its door was opened. A couple carrying suitcases was climbing in. Hank’s old, blue truck drove up the gravel road just inside the fence, turned in next to his shack, and stopped.
Alice came through the kitchen door again, carrying a single plate. She walked the length of the counter and set it in front of Megan.
“Here you go, honey.” She pulled a bottle of syrup from under the counter and set it next to the plate. “You need anything else? Maybe some butter or some jam?” she asked.
“No, this looks great, thank you,” Megan replied.
“Well, yours was the last order. Now I get a little break before I have to clear the empty tables and load the dishwasher to prepare for the lunch service.”
Megan looked around at the other customers. “How do you know mine was the last order?”
The waitress smiled. “Oh, there may be a few stragglers coming in from the airfield, like you, but these are all my regulars,” she said, sweeping her hand around, indicating the whole room.
“How do you know I’m from the airfield?” Megan asked.
“It doesn’t take special paranormal power, honey. I saw you come through the gate across the street.”
Megan laughed. “I landed last night, but I’m leaving again right after breakfast. Hank fueled my aircar last night, so I’ll be leaving soon.”
The waitress looked through the window to the parking pads. “Hank’s a strange one.”
“He seemed nice enough… you know, friendly and all,” Megan said with a hint of worry in her voice.
“Oh, he’s harmless. Don’t worry. He just… he’s a curious guy, likes to know everyone’s business. He snoops around, checking up on people. The nosy sort,” the waitress said.
Megan’s head snapped around to look across the street. Hank was walking toward her aircar. She quickly poured some syrup on her waffle, and then asked, “Can you put this into a box for me? I have to go now.”
“Sure thing, honey,” Alice said. She turned and retrieved a foam box from a shelf. Setting it on the counter, she picked up Megan’s plate and fork and slid the waffles into it. “Do you want me to pour your coffee into a paper cup?” she asked.
“Yes, that would be great,” Megan replied, her voice wavering.
Alice looked across the street. “Relax, hon. Hank’s not gonna bother anything.”
“Of course not,” Megan said. “I just realized that I need to get back to take care of my friend, Nolan. He’s asleep in my aircar. He’s not feeling well.”
Alice nodded. “Here you go,” she said as she put the paper cup of coffee on the counter. “That will be five credits.”
Megan stood, dug in her pocket, and pulled out some credit chips. Leaving a five and a single on the counter, she grabbed the box and hurried through the door. Alice yelled something, but Megan jogged across the street and through the gate. She came around Hank’s shack and saw him in front of her aircar standing on his toes, trying to see inside. She broke into a run. Shelby heard her heavy footsteps, spun around, and started barking. Hank dropped down and stepped away from her aircar. He looked like the kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar, and she half expected him to thrust his hands into his pockets and start whistling nonchalantly. Shelby rushed to greet her as she slowed to a stop near the edge of the pad. Her data unit was in her pocket, and if she got much closer, she knew the door would automatically open.
“Are you looking for something?” she asked.
“I was just checking on your friend. You know, to make sure he was okay,” Hank said. He quickly looked away from her angry gaze.
“Nolan is just fine, thank you. Now, if you will go about your business, I’ll be on my way,” she said firmly.
Hank looked at her momentarily, a hurt expression on his face, and then turned and began to walk slowly away. Megan walked toward her aircar, and the door opened. She climbed in and set her food down. When she turned around to close the door, she found Hank standing on the steps, craning his neck to look inside. She stepped in front of him to block his view. “Turn around and get the hell away from my aircar, now!” she yelled.
Eyes wide, Hank backed down the steps, then turned and hurried away toward his shack. She looked down and saw Shelby standing at the bottom of the steps, her tail wagging, looking up at her expectantly. “Sorry, girl. You’re not mine. I can’t take you for a ride.” Shelby’s ear went up at the word ‘ride’, but Megan pushed a button. The steps folded and the door closed. Through the window, she saw Shelby turn and walk slowly after Hank.
Picking up the box, she carried it to the front of the ship and set it on the console before slipping into her seat. Pulling out her data unit, she opened her preflight checklist and began preparing for departure.
* * * *
Having reached her assigned cruising altitude and course, Megan enabled the autopilot and picked up the foam box from the diner. Opening the lid, she realized she had no utensils. Hunger overruled daintiness. She picked up a waffle in her hand and began eating it like a piece of toast. The waffle was cold, and syrup ran down her fingers. By the time she was done, she was laughing at herself. Syrup covered one hand as well as her lips and chin. She looked for her coffee, and realized she had left it on the counter in the diner in her rush. Oh well, it would be stone cold by now, anyway.
* * * *
Megan banked her aircar to the left and lined up on the runway in the distance. The air was calm under a clear sky, which was just what she needed. Uncle Ethan’s runway had no glide-path indicating system, so she was making this landing entirely by eye. She descended over a field of trees set in neat rows and guessed it must be one of Ethan’s orchards. Clearing the last row, she pulled back the throttle a bit and let the aircar sink until it was in ground effect. Pulling the throttle all the way back, she let the ship settle onto the grass. The runway was long and surprisingly smooth for being unpaved. She applied the brakes gently to avoid skidding on the slick grass and let her aircar roll nearly to the far end of the runway. When the ship finally slowed to taxi speed, she pushed on the left rudder pedal and opened the throttle part way to spin the aircar around. Facing back up the runway, she steered straight and increased throttle, and then pushed the button to fold the wings back. She congratulated herself on a perfect unassisted landing.
Rolling to the house, she saw a man sitting on a horse, pointing her in the direction of a large building that was clearly a hangar. She turned off the runway and pulled to a stop inside an open bay. Carefully following her shutdown checklist, she powered down the ship�
��s systems. She made her way to the door and opened it. Retrieving her bag from the storage cabinet, she saw Nolan’s bag stuffed with towels and remembered his letter and data unit. Grabbing them from the pocket by the door, she stepped out into the hangar.
The man was standing there, holding the horse’s reins. He was shorter than Nolan, but of heavier build. He was a bit soft around the middle, but he still had impressive upper body strength. His grey hair was trimmed short, just visible under his broad-brimmed hat. From what she could see of his face, there was no doubt that he was closely related to Nolan.
“You must be Uncle Ethan,” she said with a smile.
The man nodded and smiled broadly. “And you must be Megan. Where is that nephew of mine?”
Her smile vanished, and his quickly faded. Her expression was enough to tell him that something was wrong. “I’m sorry. He isn’t here. He wrote you a letter, and I think it would be best if he explained things to you.” She held out the letter and walked over to Ethan. He took it and stared at it for a moment, and then handed it back to her.
“You hold onto this. I need to get this girl into the stable, brush her down, and feed her. I’ll read that when we get inside the house,” he said.
Megan put the letter and Nolan’s data unit into her pocket. “Can I come with you?” she asked.
“Sure,” he said with a smile that she knew was forced. He was clearly disappointed that his nephew hadn’t come. She wished he would read the letter to understand why.
Ethan led the horse out of the hangar and around the house until he reached the barn. The gate for the first stall was open, and he led the horse in. “This is Ginger,” he said. “She’s three years old and gentle as can be. Do you like horses?”
“I love them,” Megan answered. “I rode when I was younger, but not since.”
