Space Trader (Galactic Axia Adventure)

by Laughter, Jim

  “That,” Ian said triumphantly, “is the Optiveil.”

  “I don’t believe it!” exclaimed the major.

  “You better believe it,” Ian said as he powered down and remotely released the hatch. “I suggest we go discuss this in greater detail.”

  “I think you’re right,” the major agreed shakily. “And I think a drink a little stronger than coffee might help,” he added as he exited through the hatch.

  As he got up out of the control chair, Ian found himself having that familiar tingle of avarice that came before a particularly lucrative trade negotiation.

  Chapter Twenty

  The door squeaked and Professor Angle sauntered slowly into the laboratory. The room seemed strangely quiet. He set his worn briefcase down on his desk next to the main computer console, shed his coat, and then fixed himself a cup of hot cider, his spoon clinking against the cup as he stirred in a generous portion of allspice. As he turned, the professor caught the shimmering light of something materializing in front of the main console.

  Angle never tired of seeing the holographic projection of the ancient extinct species known as Horicons. He marveled at the image of an octopedal creature with eight long, thin legs with barbed protrusions above and below its triple knees. It used six of its legs to stand on while two of its legs resembled long arms extending from either side of the creature’s spideral body, each having a forward and backward-bending elbow.

  The creature’s small head, or what appeared to be its head, was perched on a thick neck. Two stalks with an oversized eye attached to each dangled at odd angles from either side of its head. Its body was covered with thick, coarse black hair. The body appeared to have no bone structure, only dense cartilage.

  “Good morning, Professor,” Ert said as the holographic image of an ancient Horicon formed in the open space. Without batting an eye, Professor Angle sat down and leaned back in his chair.

  “And a good morning to you, my friend,” he replied, taking a tentative sip of cider. “To what do I owe this ‘appearance’ this morning?”

  “Just thought I’d stay in practice,” Ert replied through the room speakers.

  The professor noted that Ert had coordinated the action interface of the projection with the body language of the Horicon image. Although the Horicon had no mouth as humans think of it, the vestigial appendages on their heads worked for both sending and receiving sound waves. The professor was glad that Ert was speaking in human form and modulation. The one time Ert had demonstrated actual Horicon communication it had sounded like a swarm of bees had gotten loose in the room.

  “There is more to it than that,” the professor observed.

  “You know me too well. But that works both ways. You are here much earlier than normal this morning.”

  “That is true,” Angle answered.

  The professor shuffled a stack of papers on his desk then turned toward the holographic image.

  “Now I have a question for you. How do you think those extinct humans managed to understand the Horicon language?” He nodded toward the stack of books on Ert’s reader.

  “Quite simple,” Ert said. “Firstly, humans are quite ingenious. Once they reverse engineered our technology, finding and translating the Horicon language would be only a matter of time.”

  “But to us humans, the Horicon language sounds like so much buzzing,” the professor noted.

  “That is true,” Ert agreed. “But who said they spoke it? There are countless examples of human civilizations having ‘secret’ texts or languages that were only written, not spoken, and then only among a select few. The humans you refer to never had a sample of spoken Horicon language. All they had were written samples. It would have been fascinating to observe their efforts. When the Horicon sent out probes, we never expected anyone doing what those humans did. You are a most inventive and inquisitive species!”

  “Why are you working again with image projection? You haven’t done that in quite a while. It was ‘unnecessary’ as you previously put it.”

  “True again,” Ert readily agreed. “I do have some thoughts about the whole subject of imaging. But now I want to show you something. Something you humans know nothing about.”

  Cup still in hand, the professor sat up. Ert’s surprises were not to be taken lightly.

  “What are you about to do?” the professor asked. Without warning, the image of the Horicon faded away.

  “Some reverse engineering of my own,” Ert answered. “But that is not what I’m about to show you.”

  “Just so I don’t have to fill out more paperwork,” the professor retorted. “I had enough of that the last time you surprised us.”

  “I want you to meet some friends of mine,” Ert said from the speakers. Before the main console, the dark image of a space field took shape. The professor could see nothing special about the projected image.

  “What is it you want me to see?” he said, squinting at the image.

  “Let me adjust it a bit,” Ert said as the room lights dimmed completely. Now all the professor saw was the twinkle of the star field.

  “I still see nothing.”

  “That’s right,” Ert said. “Your human visual spectrum is too limited. Just one more adjustment.”

  Immediately, the stars in the projected image magnified and glowed in a radiance of colors.

  “I am adjusting the light spectrum to appear as the Horicon might see them through their probes.”

  The professor was fascinated. What had been blackness with pinpricks of light were now flowing multi-spectral waves of light.

  “Now look at the center,” Ert instructed as the intensity of light increased.

  Slowly, in the flowing waves of light, a small Ovid appeared. While he watched, it moved among the different wave colors being projected.

  “What is that?” Angle asked, his drink now forgotten.

  “That is a ship,” Ert replied. “A ship no human has ever been able to see.”

  “Whose?” the professor asked. “It’s incredible!”

  “Let me magnify it to approximately full size,” Ert said as the image shifted. Before him, Professor Angle saw the ship grow to about the size of a compact ground car, approximately ten feet by four feet by four feet, except its surfaced appeared ridged and indented, molted in a wave variation similar to the light waves surrounding it.

  “It’s awful small,” the professor commented. “Looks like a walnut.”

  “That is normal for this type of vessel,” Ert replied. “It belongs to the Jibbah.”

  “The who?” the professor asked. Instinctively, he reached for the visual recorder controls on the console.

  “Don’t bother trying to record it,” Ert said calmly. “I have deactivated any form of recording this, except for your personal optic nerves. My friends only feel safe in secret, which is the only reason they have survived the enemy you humans now fight.”

  “The Red-tails?”

  “Exactly.”

  “So why are you showing this to me?”

  “Because these friends are here to help,” Ert answered truthfully. The projected image faded and Ert brought the room lights up.

  “How can they help?” the professor asked. “If the size of the ship you showed me is any indication, these Jibbah are small. Also you imply that they are non-aggressive since they desire stealth and secrecy.”

  “Correct on both counts,” Ert said. “They are less than half the size of your smallest chipmunk,” he continued. “If you didn’t know better, you would probably label them as ground squirrels or rodents, and never even seriously consider their advanced intelligence. The home planet of the Jibbah is Tamias. A wooded planet, Tamias would probably remind you of any number of national parks and wildlife preserves right here on Mica. But what the Jibbah lack in size, they make up for by being most inquisitive. Not unlike humans in that regard.”

  “So how can they help?” the professor asked.

  “That is the question, isn’t it?”


  ∞∞∞

  “That didn’t go very well,” Lyyle commented from what had become his station aboard the Cahill Express. Ian adjusted the axis ball and advanced the throttle just a touch. Through the front windows, they could both see the two Axia scout ships cruising ahead and to one side of them.

  For two days now both he and Lyyle had been trying to explain the Optiveil to the engineering staff at the Axia base. At first, Ian thought it was only the major in command who was a born skeptic. But it hadn’t taken long to realize that the major’s attitude permeated his entire staff. No matter what Ian and Lyyle tried to show them via schematics, no one was willing to believe in the capabilities of the Optiveil. Finally, in desperation, Ian suggested this demonstration.

  As he came to expect, Ian’s suggestion was met with resistance bordering on outright scorn. ‘It was impossible’, the engineers had said. ‘Couldn’t be done, so why waste time showing us magic tricks?’

  It had taken Ian all the control he could muster to convince them to come and see. Even at that, the major had almost quarantined Ian’s ship to prevent the flight. Only the most earnest persuasion had finally carried the day for doing this one test flight.

  “You try and help someone…” Ian muttered as the two scouts peeled off on divergent courses.

  “Would you have believed it if you hadn’t seen it?” Lyyle asked from his console.

  “Nice pun,” Ian replied and cracked a tight smile. Lyyle watched the trader relax in the control chair.

  “Cahill Express,” the speaker squawked.

  “Go ahead,” Ian replied tersely. Lyyle noted his lack of protocol. Obviously, Ian was still both frustrated and angry about their treatment so far.

  “We are in position,” one of the scouts replied. “Commence prearranged flight pattern.”

  “Initiating,” Ian said. He slowed his ship and swung it on a new heading. Somewhere up ahead, both scout ships would be in position for the Cahill Express to pass between them.

  As was planned, Ian guided the Express slowly between the two scouts. Their sensors would record the signature of the Express on all available bandwidths. This would provide a baseline for later analysis. It only took a couple of minutes to complete the run.

  “Begin second run,” the voice commanded over the speakers.

  “Ready over there?” Ian asked as he brought the Express around for a second run of the previous course.

  “Anytime you are,” Lyyle said with a wicked grin. “This should be interesting.”

  “We’ll do it their way the first time,” Ian said as he vectored the axis ball to the prearrange setting. “But after that, they’re all mine.”

  Lyyle laughed. He could only imagine the surprise Ian had in store for the scout ships.

  “Commencing run number two,” Ian said into his mic.

  The Cahill Express shot forward smoothly toward the waiting scouts. At a nod from Ian, Lyyle activated the Optiveil. To Ian and Lyyle nothing appeared to happen. To the scouts, however, it was quite different.

  “Where did you go?” exclaimed one of the scouts when the Cahill Express disappeared from their sensors.

  “You lose him too?” the other scout said while the Express slid undetected between them.

  “Finishing second run,” Ian reported. “Deactivating Optiveil,” he added as Lyyle powered down the system.

  “I think we got them!” Lyyle said from his station. The speaker stayed silent for several more seconds while Ian brought his ship to a stop.

  “Could you do that again?” one of the scouts asked.

  “Sure,” Ian agreed with a grin. As requested, he again flew the Cahill Express between the two ships. Again, as previously agreed upon, Lyyle activated the Optiveil a few seconds into the run.

  “I don’t see how you do it!” one of the scouts said.

  “That’s the point,” Ian couldn’t help remarking into his mic. “You ready over there?” he asked Lyyle on an aside.

  “Anytime you are!” Lyyle laughed. This is going to be good! At a nod from Ian, Lyyle reactivated the Optiveil. Then Ian advanced the ship directly toward the nearest scout.

  “Hey, where did he go?” exclaimed a scout.

  “I lost him too,” agreed the other.

  Ian carefully advanced the Express until it was a mere twenty feet from one of the scouts. Then very slowly, he moved forward until the Express touched the repulsion field of the scout. As soon as contact was made, Ian shoved the throttle forward, spinning the unsuspecting scout off wildly into space.

  “What are you doing, Saren?”

  “Something shoved me!” Saren yelled as he brought his ship back under control. By this time, Ian had maneuvered over to the second scout. As before, he advanced slowly and also gave him a shove.

  “Had enough, boys?” Ian asked innocently as the Express shimmered back into view.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Piaffè was confused. For two cycles, he’d been on this particular course for no apparent reason. After seeing the humans in action against the red ships, he found himself longing for further activity. All that excitement had made this part of his journey even more boring by comparison. But faithful to the instruction of the Horicon, Piaffè let his ship sail on into nothingness.

  Suddenly, his comm system activated. No signal is due now, thought Piaffè. Although it was on the same frequency as used before by the Horicon, the little Jibbah was wary. With trepidation, he activated the receive mode of his equipment.

  Immediately, in the open space of his cabin, the cuneiform used previously by the Horicon appeared. Piaffè started reading it as the text began to scroll. An immediate course change was indicated but the new vector did not make sense. Then a star field appeared and Piaffè began to understand. The Horicon wanted him to establish one of the old sensor grids developed jointly by their two species so long ago.

  Piaffè started plotting out the ancient pattern when the transmission ended. In his training, Piaffè had only done this in a simulator. Now he needed to do something that had not been done in generations. Piaffè felt a little touch of the explorer come to the foreground.

  Oh, what it must have been like in the old days! he thought excitedly.

  Responding to his controls, the little scout ship began maneuvering in the prescribed pattern. Playing out behind it was the invisible monofilament line that was integral to the sensor grid. Far more sensitive that any remote or wireless system, this detector array would detect disturbances much further down the molecular scale. Now being out here in this empty sector of space made sense.

  Sometime later, Piaffè moved his little ship out away from the grid, and only by using a spectral enhancer was even his eyes able to see the lines. Satisfied with his first real deployment, Piaffè moved off to a point in alignment with the apex of the detector grid.

  Now came the hard part—waiting. But Piaffè was confident that his Horicon friend would not have him waste precious time just sitting in space.

  ∞∞∞

  Back on Mica, Ert checked his own sensor system. It wasn’t actually his per se. It was a combination of many human systems routed to his liking. He was careful in tapping those systems because he did not want to alarm his hosts.

  These humans were sensitive about their security. That was no problem for Ert. He just employed ways of circumventing those security measures that would never occur to the humans. When he was finished with any such effort, he then took the few seconds needed to restore the affected systems to their previous configurations.

  So Ert started varying which systems he used to sweep large areas of space. He happily noted that little Piaffè had finished the grid work for one of the sensor systems jointly developed by the Horicon and the Jibbah. Ert was pleased to see that though new to space, Piaffè had studied well and done an excellent job. Now he would leave the Jibbah to monitor that grid. If Ert’s calculations were correct, they wouldn’t have to wait too long.

  Now it was time to
explore the other mystery that had been puzzling Ert—the missing ship. Concurrent with that mystery was the one concerning a missing planet as well. Both were aberrations and contrary to everything else Ert knew about the cosmos. Even from this distance, he could detect the debris field from a recent battle Piaffè happened to observe. But there was nothing to account for that particular ship.

  Ert’s previous research proved useful in obtaining certain information about Ian Cahill, the registered owner of the mysterious disappearing ship. Now he wanted more. He also wanted to see what the owner of that ship might find, especially since his records showed Cahill was both inquisitive and knowledgeable about arcane artifacts found in space. With luck and some help from the Unseen One, Ert hoped this trader could find specific artifacts from the Horicon civilization. There were clues but little else to go on.

  One of those clues had come from the texts Professor Angle had allowed Ert to scan. Thanks to Ert, the professor had a working translation of those manuscripts. What the professor didn’t have was the secondary translations using the nuances in the Horicon written language. Those now extinct humans had somehow stumbled onto the second level of meaning and translated it. It grieved Ert that such talent had been lost, and most especially since it was lost due to the Horicon themselves.

  Nevertheless, Ert set his feelings aside and focused on the task at hand. The tragedy of that lost planet of humans would be set to rights if his plans unfolded properly. Although his builders were long gone, Ert felt an obligation to clean up the mess the Horicon had inadvertently made. It would take time, stealth, and help from diverse sources such as the Jibbah, but he was determined to succeed.

  A stray signal started filtering in from one of the human sensor grids. The missing ship had been found! From reading the reports from other nearby ships, Ert learned that the Cahill Express had not met with a tragic end. Somehow, it was able to veil itself from detection. Not only that, but it had been doing it on a regular basis since it had first disappeared.

  Using all available taps he could find, Ert assessed the technology utilized to veil that ship. It was fascinating! In all Ert’s vast storehouse of knowledge, he had never seen, much less considered such an advancement!