Space Trader (Galactic Axia Adventure)

by Laughter, Jim

  “I can see why,” Ian agreed. They went down the elevator that delivered them to the parking area of the complex. After they were in Lyyle’s ground vehicle and headed back toward the base where the Cahill Express was parked, Lyyle broached something that had been on his mind.

  “I want to ask you a question,” Lyyle began as he steered the vehicle through the lush countryside. Traffic was light so there wasn’t much distraction from seeing the sights. As much as Ian was at home in space, he never failed to appreciate the natural vistas on the different planets he visited. But while his eyes feasted on the sights, his mind remained focused on the man beside him driving the vehicle.

  “What do you want to know?” Ian asked when he thought of where this discussion might be leading.

  “You saw what we’ve accomplished on a large scale with the Optiveil,” Lyyle said. Ian nodded. “But it is the smaller scale where we’ve had our challenges.”

  “So you just keep working on the project,” Ian said

  “Of course,” Lyyle agreed. “Even though we’ve achieved much, we still need to solve the problem of making our systems work on a smaller scale. But we have one problem.”

  “What’s that?” He suspected what Lyyle was about to say.

  “We don’t have any operational ships,” Lyyle admitted. “We’ve shrunken the system down to where it can fit on one of our flitters, but we have no way to safely test it in space.”

  “What do you mean ‘safely’?” Ian asked warily. “What’s wrong?”

  “Well, we did try it on a flitter once,” Lyyle admitted. “And it made the flitter disappear to our observers,” he went on hesitantly.

  “But what happened?”

  “As you know, the flitters are powered by a ground based carrier wave,” Lyyle answered. “When the Optiveil was turned on, it cut the flitter off from its power source. It immediately dropped like a rock.”

  “I assume it crashed.”

  “No,” Lyyle replied. “That was the funny thing. As soon as the Optiveil cut off the flitter from the power source, the flitter started to fall. Since it lost its main power it went to battery, which the Optiveil drained in seconds. As soon as the Optiveil failed due to lack of power, it blinked out and the flitter again was able to tap the carrier wave from the ground transmitter. The pilot immediately pulled his flitter back up from its plunge.”

  “So he was saved,” Ian said.

  “Yes, but not before the Optiveil popped back up now that it had power again,” Lyyle said. “It took two more cycles of this before the pilot managed to turn the Optiveil off, and then after regaining control of his ship, land safely.”

  Ian had trouble trying not to laugh as he imagined the flitter popping in and out of view repeatedly. Lyyle went on oblivious of Ian’s discomfort.

  “What we were hoping is that you might let us try it on your ship,” he said in a rush. Obviously, he was afraid that Ian would say no.

  “It’s an interesting proposal,” Ian said when he regained his composure. “You need a ship that has a power source independent of the surface so it won’t crash. I might be interested. What would be my incentive?”

  “We were hoping you might see it that way,” Lyyle said with some relief.

  Ian noticed that Lyyle had taken a different road at the last junction. Now instead of heading toward the landing field where the Express berthed, they were headed toward some sort of town.

  “As for the terms, Cap can discuss those with you,” Lyyle added.

  Ian had the feeling that he’d been outsmarted at his own game.

  Chapter Ten

  Piaffè blinked to wakefulness as the vibrating alarm brought him out an induced slumber. He rapidly scanned his equipment and was satisfied to find all was as it should be. Glancing out a view port, Piaffè surveyed the emptiness of space. Again, that was as it should be. On this necessary mission, stealth was his best weapon.

  Adjusting his sensors for the greatest possible sensitivity, Piaffè let them reach out into the void. Within a matter of minutes, he received a signal return. Zeroing in on its position, Piaffè adjusted his ship’s sail to draw him nearer.

  Finding one of the Old Ones’ monitoring stations is a good omen, Piaffè thought.

  Privately, he had doubts that the old equipment would still be functioning. Apparently, the Old Ones built well and Piaffè thanked the Unseen One. This would greatly facilitate his mission. If the supplies normally left on such stations were intact, it would give Piaffè added time and resources with which to work.

  Having been chosen to serve the old alliance with the Horicon was a considerable privilege, especially for one so young. Nevertheless, in his study of the old days, Piaffè noted that many of the Jibbah’s greatest explorers had been much younger than he. Often Piaffè had thought it unfair that he’d been born so late in the history of his race. Now his dream of exploring was being fulfilled. That alone made the risks more than worth it.

  The thought of risks made Piaffè quickly scan his sensors again. Although he only knew of the great danger out here through watching historical records, Piaffè had no desire to meet the red scourge in person. He chittered in relief when all sensors showed clear space around him for many light-years.

  The red scourge was his actual reason for being out here. The message from the Horicon had come as a great shock to their friends. As far as the Jibbah knew, the last Horicon had died with their planet thousands of millennia ago.

  From space, the ancient Jibbah watched Horicon’s primary star scorch and destroy their only habitable planet. Feeling so helpless, especially for such an inventive space-faring race, had been hard. Generations of the Jibbah’s best minds had tried to overcome the limitation that kept the Horicon planet-bound, yet to no avail. Their physiology that gave rise to their great intellect had also doomed the race of giant creatures.

  Ships had even been built to fully simulate the environment of Horicon, but as soon as its giant passengers left the surface, they began to fade and die. Not even the combined efforts of two mature races could solve the problem.

  And so the Horicon died. The Jibbah mourned the loss of their friends and the universe became that much lonelier. To make matters worse, the red scourge that the Horicon and Jibbah had unwittingly unleashed still prowled throughout space. Piaffè shuddered at the thought. Even reading the old records of encounters was enough to make his blood run cold and the fur on his back bristle.

  Now the Horicon called and the Jibbah had answered. That by some miracle their old friends were still around was most welcome. Piaffè was confident that together the Horicon and Jibbah could once again try to change the universe. The hint in the message that there was now a young race in space that might be able to help had excited even the elders of the Jibbah.

  But the message from the Horicon had admonished the Jibbah in that regard. For some reason the Horicon did not want to involve this young race as a resource. Piaffè and the elders who had dispatched him did not understand but would bow to the warning from their Horicon friends.

  So now, Piaffè sailed stealthfully through space on a mission of secrecy. Much depended on the equipment left behind by the Old Ones. Was it still operational? Piaffè could only hope.

  That the signal had come through such an odd technological path was troubling. Once Piaffè made it to the monitor station, he would know. Silently, he implored the Unseen One for favor in his mission.

  ∞∞∞

  Ian leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes, tired from studying the schematics. He had been at this all day, pouring over the experiments Lyyle had proposed. Reaching for his teacup, he took a sip and frowned when he discovered that it had grown cold. He stepped over to the small kitchenette the Cahill Express boasted and turned on his automated brewing system.

  A glance at Lyyle and his technician where they were reviewing the wiring diagrams of the Express told Ian everything he needed to know. He set the brewer to make a total of three cups.

 
They had all been at this for too long a stretch. Belatedly, he called out to the other two.

  “You guys ready for a break?” he asked as he leaned against the counter. Lyyle looked up and tried to focus while his assistant, Sony, absentmindedly reached for his own teacup. Ian watched while Sony tried to take a sip and then realized that it had been empty for some time.

  Ian realized the other two men would wait for him to broach the subject of his ship.

  “What do you two think of how the Express is wired?” he asked as he sniffed his mug of tea and took a tentative sip.

  “It’s certainly different from the wiring diagrams we have from our old ships,” Sony offered.

  “Of course it is.” Lyyle snorted. “There is a difference of at least a hundred years between them.”

  “Still, from what I’ve seen,” Ian interjected, “the basic power system is, for all practical purposes, unchanged.”

  “I’m sorry,” Sony said sheepishly. “I got carried away tracing out all the secondary circuits. You have some fascinating ways of doing business on this ship.”

  “Hey, don’t blame me,” Ian replied in mock protest. “I didn’t do the original wiring when she was built. I only added a few little extras here and there.”

  “A few?” Lyyle retorted. “I’d say it looks like you’ve been rather judicious with the modifications.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment,” Ian said. “But will your emitters fit into my circuits without knocking them out of phase?”

  “As far as I can tell, yes,” answered Lyyle. “Although I do worry that it might set up a feedback harmonic with your auxiliary systems.”

  “That was one concern I had as well,” Ian agreed, taking up his mug again.

  “Could you keep them out of the circuit while the emitters are active?” Lyyle asked over the lip of his mug.

  “Yes,” Ian answered thoughtfully. “But that is only practical for testing purposes. Sooner or later we’re going to have to make all these systems compatible.”

  “But I thought we’d planned to run the Optiveil off of your auxiliary green box,” Sony said in protest.

  “We did,” Lyyle chimed in. “But not all ships are like this one. Most run off a single power supply. So like it or not, we’re going to have to make it all work off of a single cell.”

  “Speaking from my limited expertise in ship systems,” Ian said while the other two groaned, “I think we could arrange a buffering circuit or two that would do the trick. It’s not the first time and won’t be the last. Later on, we’ll let the real brains in the Axia figure it all out.”

  “Too bad we don’t have any of these mythical geniuses here to help us on this project,” Lyyle said longingly. “And I want to see this thing fly.”

  “Oh, it’ll fly,” Ian retorted. “I just don’t want it to stop flying the instant we flip the switch!”

  They all laughed.

  “Now let’s get back to work and figure out the initial test. From there we can design the buffer circuits we’ll need later.”

  “You know, it’s going to be pretty handy having the Optiveil on the Express,” Lyyle said, stepping back over to where he had been studying diagrams.

  “How so?” Ian asked as he and Sony got up. “Besides the obvious one of not having my ship seen?”

  “Because of the dampening effect,” Sony interjected. “It would disable any device coming at your ship... say a missile or something.”

  “But the drive effect also does that as a by-product,” Ian observed. “That’s been known from the first ship.”

  “What I’m wondering is if the dampening field will affect any of the other systems on the ship,” Sony said. “What if it actually neutralizes the shielding effect of the drive system?”

  “A good thought,” Ian agreed, picking up on Sony’s observation. “Or even more likely now that I think about it, what if it just causes a power drain on the drive system? That could get real interesting fast if I lost total power.”

  “We better figure that into the test program,” Lyyle added. “Maybe have you test it within range of the tractor beams. That way if it does fail, we can catch you.”

  “And what’s to keep me from popping in and out like your flitter did?” Ian asked. “I don’t like the idea of such a ride in any ship.”

  “We can wire in a failsafe,” suggested Sony. “That way if the Optiveil or the drive fails, it will stay off even if some power is restored.”

  “I just had an even uglier thought,” Ian said darkly. “What if the Optiveil works, drains my drive until it fails but stays operational itself? Would you be able to detect my veiled ship, which is falling? The first you might know that I have a problem is when you hear a loud crash and see a puff of dust when I hit the ground. Of course, then the Optiveil will fail and reveal my splattered remains for you to enjoy.”

  “Sounds to me like you are predicting some dire consequences for our little experiment,” a voice said from the open hatch of the Cahill Express. Ian, Lyyle, and Sony all turned to see Cap Embrel standing in the lock.

  “We’re just trying to head off any problems we might encounter,” Lyyle said to his superior as the man stepped fully into the now crowded main room of the Express.

  “Well, I’m not a space pilot,” began Cap, “but it seems to me that you do it in stages. First, do a low-level test where our tractor rays can catch him. Put the Optiveil on a timer so it can only operate for a few seconds. The rays can actually interweave to make a safety net directly under the ship. Then when the Optiveil cycles off, we can grab the ship if we need to and lower it to the ground.”

  “Workable,” Ian agreed. “And how about in space?”

  “I’d set it up in orbit just beyond the planet’s own veil,” Cap offered. “Again use a timer on the ship’s Optiveil. If it drains your drive dry, we can still pluck you out and bring you down since we know where to look and can track you.”

  “And even if I lose the power source for the drive, there would still be the one that powered the Optiveil to get me back off planet and back to the Axia where they can debug the system.”

  “Assuming it works,” Sony said. “I wonder what would happen if you had it on and intersected the planetary veil. Would they cancel each other out? On the other hand, would they repel each other because of phase variations or what?”

  “More interesting questions to answer,” Cap said. “How soon can you have the system installed and ready?”

  Lyyle, Sony, and Ian looked at each other. Both Lyyle and Sony nodded at Ian. He had the final say. It was his ship.

  “Oh, maybe in a couple of days to be safe,” Ian finally stated. “Sooner if everything goes right.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Billions of electrons coursed through countless circuits while Ert considered what to do next. Only moments earlier Ert had received the coded signal from the Jibbah ship. The news had not been heartening. Now the ancient Horicon computer faced a dilemma—what and when to broach this delicate subject with the bipedal creatures that now attended it.

  Engaging one of his optical sensors, Ert was pleased to see Professor Angle alone in the lab. He had hoped to keep this low key. He refrained from using a holographic image as he had done before, but instead he just preempted the screen of the computer terminal the professor was using.

  GOOD MORNING, PROFESSOR, Ert printed across the screen. He watched with amusement as the professor flinched at the intrusion.

  GOOD MORNING TO YOU, the professor wrote back. TO WHAT DO I OWE YOUR ATTENTION?

  “You always have my attention whenever you are here,” Ert answered from one of the professor’s console speakers. “But I must say that some of the habits of you creatures are most humorous.”

  Ert saw the professor redden. “Do not be alarmed,” Ert continued. “I was only referring to what I see here in the lab and on campus.”

  “You know the restrictions,” Professor Angle said with obvious relief. “I can’t have you making m
ore trouble.”

  “Trouble is exactly what I want to discuss with you,” Ert said, seizing the opportunity to broach the delicate subject.

  “And what might that trouble be? I hope it has nothing to do with the computer department again.”

  “Only indirectly.”

  “So, what is it you want to discuss?”

  “It is a matter of personal concern,” Ert answered.

  The professor was taken aback. He was still adjusting to dealing with a computer that was for all purposes alive and emotional. The thought that this ancient artifact had personal concerns and feelings was territory only recently discovered by Professor Angle and the small select team that worked on and with the Horicon computer.

  “I am no expert on matters of the heart, but I offer what services I can,” the professor replied. “However, if you need more detailed help, I will have to enlist specialists that are available here on campus. You understand, of course, that they are only knowledgeable in human conditions, not those of a Horicon.”

  “I am well aware of their limitations,” Ert answered. “Even in their own fields of human study, they are still desperately primitive. I may have to address that someday and share what the Horicon mental scientists discovered true even across different species.”

  “No! Don’t do that!” the professor exclaimed.

  He’d already had to run too many rear guard actions to defend the actions Ert had taken. Not everyone considered the help provided by this nosey ancient computer helpful.

  “Rest assured that I will consult with you before undertaking such tutorial endeavors,” Ert replied. “But when the time comes, I think you will find the interaction just as amusing as I do.”

  “What is it you want to discuss?”

  “Mutual safety,” Ert answered diplomatically. “But first, I need your permission to access historical files here on Mica. I will not disturb what is on file. Even though the temptation is strong.”

  “Only if you can do it without causing problems,” the professor answered. “I don’t need more of those.”