by Joseph Lallo
The pilot managed to catch up to his unusual host as he was headed down the main corridor toward the exit.
“Karter!” he called, hustling after him with arms loaded down, “I need to talk to you!”
“Are you still here?” Karter said as he pulled on a coat and adjusted a fresh bandage on his non-prosthetic wrist.
“Yes I’m still here! That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I need to get the hell off of this planet and get rid of this package.”
“It can wait.”
With a whistle, Karter summoned his pet and headed for the door.
“No, Karter, it can’t. This is my reputation we’re talking about. Plus, I’m pretty sure that VectorCorp has a problem with the contents of the package.”
“And you want to toss the hot potato before the music stops.”
“And collect the rest of my money, if I can.”
Karter silently considered for a moment.
“Fine,” he said, continuing toward the door, “If it will shut you up and get you out of my face for a few days, I’ll toss you a loaner. Solby needs to drop a deuce, so we’ll swing by the hangar and see what I’m willing to part with. Ma! Open the front door and pull the bus around.”
“Opening. Please remember to prepare yourself for local gravitational intensity, and move swiftly to the bus. Ambient temperature is approaching danger levels,” the voice replied.
A sudden change in gravity is a tricky thing to prepare for. Stepping out of the facility and its accompanying artificial gravity felt vaguely like climbing a staircase that has one step fewer than you’d expected. The human brain has been trained to cope with things like a sudden shift to zero g, like stepping off a cliff, or the gradual slide up and down in acceleration that you get in an old fashioned elevator. Moving suddenly from normal gravity to just a bit more than half of that locks the brain into the “Oh my God, the ground is falling out from underneath me!” mindset for a good thirty seconds. Even when you know it is coming, you find yourself taking ridiculous exaggerated steps and trying to get your stomach back down where it belongs. Or at least, that’s what happens when you haven’t been doing it day in and day out for who knows how long, apparently, because both Karter and his adorable little fur ball made the dismount flawlessly.
Once Lex had gotten a grip on the new physics and recovered from the slap in the face that the sudden cold had given him, he caught up to the others. Karter was crunching across the gravel with his hands in his pockets, head down against a stiff wind and heading toward the school bus. Solby did his business, finishing off the whole process by making a half-hearted effort to kick some dirt over the evidence. He then commenced prancing about, taking full advantage of the reduced gravity to turn his already prodigious leaps into something just slightly absurd. Once Karter and Lex had climbed into the bus, a quick pat on the leg brought the little creature bounding through the door.
“Ma! Clean up!” Karter called out before he shut the door.
Almost instantly there was a flare of light and the mess left behind vanished in a burst of smoke and flames. Lex leaned against the window just in time to see one of the roof mounted lasers shift back toward the sky
“You vaporize dog doo with lasers?!” Lex scoffed.
“Give a man access to a turd and a laser and there can be but one outcome.”
They set off toward the opposite side of the compound at a leisurely pace. Solby took the opportunity to assault Lex, diving onto his lap, flicking its little tongue over his face, and rolling onto its back to beg a belly rub. Lex ruffled its incredibly soft fur and scratched at its neck for a few seconds, to sounds of general delight.
“You know, this thing is pretty neat. Too bad about the smell, or this would be a pretty awesome pet.”
“Eh, there’s a pill I made that takes away the smell for six months at a time.”
“… Then why don’t you give it to him?”
“I realized that I don’t care. It only really stinks when he sprays, and he almost never does that anymore,” he said, adding in baby talk, “Isn’t that true, little guy? You’re too smart for that, aren’t you?”
“How smart IS he?”
“I don’t know. There aren’t any reliable IQ tests for non-verbal quadrupeds. Very smart, though. By design. Now, if you were to ask me why he’s all over YOU right now? No idea. There’s been no other people on this rock besides me in years. I’d have figured he’d be territorial and vicious.”
Currently it was gnawing gently on Lex’s fingers, which seemed to be the extent of its vicious territoriality. Lex was doing his best to resist the almost toxic levels of cuteness when something strange caught his eye. On the back of its neck, between the twin white lines of fur running along its spine, Solby had what looked to be a small glass marble. Periodically it would blink a faint red.
“What is this? Some kind of fancy collar?” he asked.
“We’re getting into proprietary information territory again.”
“Seriously? You think I’m going to steal your ideas and genetically engineer my own?
“It is called industrial espionage. It used to be a problem for me.”
“How’d you take care of it?”
“With extreme prejudice. We’re here.”
The bus dropped to the ground outside of a building that was for all appearances identical to the lab, except for the label, which was in this case an equally crude rendering of the word Hangar. Solby made his way to Karter’s shoulder, curling his enormous fluffy tail around his master’s neck like a scarf. The icy air had a vicious bite to it that didn’t seem to phase Karter or his pet in the slightest, but sent Lex sprinting for the doorway, which was opening of its own accord.
“Please brace yourself for artificial gravity,” came Ma’s voice from the new building.
Granted, this time the warning was not spitefully late, but in his haste to get out of the cold, Lex ended up playing the same trick on himself that the computer had managed last time. He crossed the threshold mid-stride and landed far more quickly and heavily than he’d expected, turning his sprint into a sprawling slide that sent his packages bouncing all over the entryway.
“Dumb ass,” Karter muttered as he stepped over Lex and into the building.
Solby hopped down and investigated the fallen guest as he hauled himself to his feet again. Lex gathered his things and ended up with the creature hitching a ride on his own shoulder as he trudged inside.
“Karter, I’m pretty sure you screwed up somewhere along the line while you were making this thing. I don’t remember reading anything about skunks or foxes hanging out on people’s shoulders,” Lex griped.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Maybe your designer creature came out better than mine. How did you deal with the nucleotide sequencing fidelity issue when you were creating yours? Oh, that’s right, I’m the only one here playing god. So quit being an armchair engineer. Man I hate people. Lights!”
The inside of the building had been pitch black, save for a small pool of light near the entrance. At his command, the vast, echoing thump of breakers engaging filled the air, and lights flickered on, revealing an interior completely unlike that of the lab. There were no walls, no ceilings, and no real floors. The whole of the place was hollow. Metal grill catwalks spiraled up and down the walls, leading to dozens, if not hundreds, of identical docking bays. Most bore a ship, though the condition ranged from stripped down framework to immaculate showpiece. The docking bays continued several stories up to the roof, at least ten floors downward, and ran half of the length of the building. The other half was filled with a mix of larger docks, benchmarking and testing rigs, massive fabrication machines, and a few launch bays.
Thirty seconds passed before Lex realized that Karter had continued walking. To another man this place might have been a curiosity, or perhaps simply an impressive sight. To him, it was a cathedral. Machines he had lusted over throughout his youth stood proud and pristine in their docks. Glorious triumphs of form and
function hung like ornaments along the walls. He felt like an explorer stumbling upon an untouched tomb of a forgotten pharaoh.
“These are all yours?” Lex uttered, his voice hoarse.
“Yep. Restorations on the right, upgraded reproductions on the left. You’ll be taking a reproduction.”
“How can you afford all of these...”
“I own the goddamn planet. A couple of ships aren’t going to bankrupt me.”
“Wait, you OWN the planet?”
“I’m pretty sure I told you that this was my planet,” he said with a scowl.
“I thought you meant it like, you know, ‘my home town’ or ‘my country.’ You can’t actually own a planet!”
“It was a hazardous waste zone. I got it for cheap. Never mind that, though. Ma! Bring down the ships I’m willing to risk on this yahoo.”
“I am unfamiliar with that particular classification of ship,” the voice replied.
“Fully functional, single seat reproductions of ships still in regular circulation.”
“You have sixty-three ships that fit that description, and only twenty-four display bays.”
“Put them up on the console,” Karter said, gesturing toward the large touch panel beside the entrance.
Lex turned to see a grid of ship makes and models appear on the screen. Evidently, Ma had a generous definition of “regular circulation.” There were ships ranging from bottom of the line econo-boxes to limited edition concept ships. The idea of any single facility having access to all of them, let alone any single man, was mind boggling. One by one, he tapped the check boxes next to the ships he most wanted to see.
“These specs are wrong. The Shetti 8080 never came near that kind of power output. All of them are kind of high,” Lex said as he browsed.
“Upgraded. Modern guts. You done?”
Lex quickly finished picking his two dozen favorites. As soon as he’d chosen the last, there was a distant whine of mechanical arms and conveyor belts. One by one, gleaming and spotless replicas of the ships he’d selected were plucked from their docks and deposited in the display bays that ran along either side of the central catwalk in front of them. He practically ran down the narrow metal walkway, eyes wide and mouth watering.
“The NVS MacDonald! This was my first ship! The Demeter 83i, I set the track record on Meedle Speed Loop in one of these. That’s the Cantrell body I built Betsy on. This Mobius Armistice was-”
“I don’t need a life story. Pick one.”
Lex jogged along the line until he stopped at a sleek, distinctive ship. In a way, it looked the way Betsy would have if she’d been designed by scientists and engineers instead of necessity and availability. A classy, smooth fuselage, aerodynamic even though it didn’t need to be, with lines that flowed like silk into a bank of purpose-built engines. More powerful than it needed to be, more streamlined than it needed to be, and bristling with weapon mounts. It was a DAR.
“The prick who shot me down was piloting one of these. It’ll be nice to see what he was working with.”
“You have selected the Delta Astro-Recon, Type D,” Ma proclaimed.
Automated lifts returned the other ships to their slots.
“Alright, Ma. Where do we stand with the debris remapping?” Karter asked.
“Approximately thirty-one hours remaining.”
“No, no, no. I can’t wait that long,” Lex said, “The sooner I get rid of this package, the better.”
“Relax. Ma, remind me, what are we remapping toward?”
“In order to maintain our status as a licensed salvage and recycling facility, we are required to comply with the Intersystem Transport Accord’s Guidelines for Navigable Debris Fields. Under current accord regulations, we must identify voids in the debris that are a minimum measurement of the ship’s maximum dimension plus five hundred percent and a minimum duration of fifteen seconds. Those are the outside requirements for autopilot navigation.”
“Are you kidding me? I could fly this building through a hole that big,” Lex snapped.
“Yeah, he could,” nodded Karter.
The pilot eyed his host suspiciously.
“Why do you believe me?”
“Because the flight computer of your ship was partially intact. I pulled the telemetry from the last few minutes of your flight. It was good stuff. Savant stuff. I think we can assume you’ll make it through a hole that an autopilot couldn’t. Ma! Make that 15% instead of 500%, and minimum duration of, say, 300 milliseconds.”
“That’s more like it,” Lex said with a grin.
“Exit windows fitting those specifications can, at this point in the processing of the data, be reliably identified to occur approximately once every seventeen minutes,” she said.
“Great. Ma, grant pilot privileges and show him the door,” Karter said. He then turned and headed back toward the entrance, snagging Solby as he went. “When I’m done with your ship I’ll let you know. Bring that thing back in one piece or I’m charging you.”
“Wait! If I’m going to be using this, I’ll need a way to turn the transponder off!”
“It doesn’t have a transponder. Just grab one from the bucket,” he said, gesturing vaguely at a crate by the door as he left.
Upon inspection, the crate was filled with dozens of metal cylinders. Each was about the size of a flashlight and had a serial number and vehicle name written on the side in permanent marker. He picked one up and twisted the base of it. A brilliant red light began to blink on one side. Lex grinned, rummaging through the crate and making some choice selections. It wasn’t the same thing as having a handy programmable transponder like Betsy had, but a pile of manual ones would allow for some interesting options. After a quick change into his freshly repaired flight suit, Lex started loading his things into the cockpit. When he started to climb inside, Ma addressed him.
“You have been given level 1 access to this vehicle. The next exit window will be at the coordinates displayed on your flight computer. I will plot a visual trajectory.”
Finally, Lex plopped down to the control seat and strapped in. It just wasn’t fair. Even the seat in this thing was better. He worked his way through the start up procedure, activating engines, running diagnostics, checking life support and communications. When the engines were purring and the systems were go, he eased it up out of its bay and toward the retracting hangar doors ahead.
“You handle the ship well,” Ma spoke over the com system.
“What can I say, Ma? There’s just about one thing in the whole universe I’m actually good at. This is it,” he said, beginning to run through his own personal start up procedure.
First he ran the ship through a series of turns, backing the inertial dampener down a notch or two each time until the acceleration felt just right. Then he reached back and popped open the access panel, letting the whine and buzz of the hydraulics and electronics fill the cockpit. He guided the ship over a long, empty expanse of rocky ground and pushed engines a bit. The sounds of the ship took on a new rhythm, like the heartbeat of a runner getting into a groove. He breathed deep, smelling the wires and lubricants as they started to warm up. He closed his eyes and let his senses take it all in. It was a symphony, a banquet. Too many pilots flew with their eyes. He wanted to feel it, hear it, smell it. Try as he might, he couldn’t find a way to taste it. That’s what the gum was for. He opened the fresh pack of gum and popped a stick into his mouth, the final sense engaged.
“The window is ahead. I have prepared a timer. It has been a pleasure hosting you, Mr. Alexander. I look forward to your return.”
“Good meeting you, Ma. Don’t let Karter get to you. You want anything while I’m out?”
“If I think of anything, I’ll let you know. Window opening now.”
With a careful nudge of throttle, Lex brought the DAR into the debris field. It wasn’t the simplest exit he’d ever made from a planet. The path that Ma traced out for him was incredibly precise, but her calculations had been sound. Not once
did a single fragment of debris larger than a speck of dust brush against his ship. It was disorienting having clusters of metal whisking by in his peripheral vision, and crisscrossing ahead and behind, yet not once being rocked by a collision. In no time at all he was into clear space. Now all he had to do was get rid of the case before anything else could happen.
Chapter 11
The DAR, or at least whatever Karter had made it into, was quite a vessel. In terms of raw speed, it was a hair faster than Betsy. In terms of maneuverability and creature comforts, the DAR left Betsy in the dust. Lex had always considered a heated leather massage seat to be a ridiculous waste of money. His lower back was now urging him to reconsider. It was just as well, because the time lost on the trash heap, coupled with the renewed sense of urgency to be rid of the package, meant that there wouldn’t be many more stops. The spicy sawdust bars that were supposed to be keeping him alive right now had mercifully been destroyed in his crash, so he stopped to dump some chips on a replacement. The best value this time came in the form of tubes of protein/vitamin fortified peanut butter. He wisely picked up more than the usual complement of water, as well. Once he was stocked up, he began a series of marathon sprints that would have made a legitimate courier go on strike. It was mind-numbing, exhausting, and left him looking and smelling like a vagrant, but in just under the six day deadline, he was watching his destination pull into view.
Tessera V was, in some ways, a lot like Golana. It was a major transit and shipping hub. Unlike Golana, it was also much, much more. The average climate was famously gorgeous. So much so that most corporations kept a campus there for employee retreats. There were also no less than three highly prestigious colleges. Perhaps the most famous and respected opera house for half a galaxy made its home there. Famous beaches, iconic national parks, and all manner of vacation destinations dotted the landscape. In short, it was a center of commerce, culture, and tourism. And since that sort of place attracts an awful lot of the criminal element, there was a considerable legal presence as well.
