Mission Critical

by T. R. Harris

  Tell her to hold on, Adam said to Coop through his ATD.

  Copernicus yelled and Sherri dropped to her stomach as well, with one arm around Coop and the other around the DMC.

  Adam pulled the starship away from the building, taking broken debris with it. He gunned the jets and gained altitude momentarily before leveling out and heading north, away from the Cartel complex and the city. He maintained a slow speed, aware of his two passengers on the port wing. Five minutes later he made a rough landing—his first in this spacecraft—in a field still within eyesight of the towering central building.

  The landing sent Sherri and Coop sliding off the wing and to the grassy field below. Adam’s butt clinched when he saw the DMC crash to the ground. Fortunately, no giant black hole opened up, so he figured they were safe, at least for the moment. He activated a side hatch and his two friends rushed inside the starship, bringing their deadly dark matter prizes with them. Adam didn’t wait before activating the gravity drive, taking a huge scoop of Naviorean dirt with them into space. Once in the clear, he kicked in the overdrive, which would leave any pursuit in the dust. They were away from the planet, but that didn’t mean they were safe.

  Sherri rushed onto the bridge and threw her arms around Adam, who was still in the pilot seat, watching for any hostiles on the threat board. There were several, coming at them from all directions. The Cartel controlled this star system and had ships scattered throughout. Nearly twenty of them, of various classifications, were now trying to box in the Gracilian ship. Despite the ship’s superior speed, it was working.

  “We’re not out of the woods yet,” he said to Sherri. Coop was also on the bridge. “Someone man the weapons station.”

  “Where is it?” Coop asked.

  “Starboard bulkhead, second console.”

  Copernicus slipped into the seat at the station then raised his hands in surrender. “How do I activate it?”

  “Top panel on the left. That will light it up. I practiced a little on the way here.”

  “Then let’s trade places. At least I can pilot the ship.”

  “Good idea.”

  They ran past each other while changing stations. Copernicus was an excellent pilot and he understood flight controls. The weapons controls of a strange starship wasn’t something you learned on the job. Adam had the flash cannon charging a moment later, tied into the threat board. Ships were being targeted—lots of them—just as Adam’s single ship was being locked onto by eighteen other vessels. Eighteen-to-one odds. In a fist fight, Adam wasn’t worried. In a space battle, he was.

  “We can’t out fight them,” he said. “Time to do some fancy flying, Mr. Smith.”

  “So why did we change places?”

  “I’ll give us some room, but it’s going to be up to you to get us out of here.”

  The circle of hostile starships around them prevented a deep gravity well from forming. If they did, they could smash into a ship or suck it into a thin well that would send debris blasting into their path. They would have to work their way into the clear first before engaging the full drive. The ship was still fast and more maneuverable than their competition, but would it be enough?

  Five flash cannon barrages erupted from the Cartel ships, roiling through space in a wide spread. Coop twisted the ship in a corkscrew maneuver, sliding between two bolts, both of which scraped against the top and bottom diffusion shields. The oblique hits were easily absorbed.

  Adam then sent out a barrage of his own. The Gracilian ship was fast, but not exceptionally well-armed. The aliens were scientists, not warriors, so they saw no need for advanced weaponry. Still, Adam managed a couple of direct hits, both of which were also absorbed by the Cartel screens. The Cartel had a lot of ships, but they weren’t warships. They ran guns and slaves, and seldom engaged in space battles of any kind. This wasn’t to say they couldn’t take out Adam’s ship. They certainly could, and if they didn’t get to clear space soon, that was about to happen.

  The aft shield lit up from two direct hits. That was it for the panel, and when another five bolts contacted other diffusion screens, Adam was sitting with a third of his defenses down, as Coop angled the ship toward incoming bolts just so they would hit charged screens and not vulnerable hull metal.

  Adam was firing nearly non-stop. Three of the Cartel ships had been destroyed and two damaged to the point where they were out of the battle. That still left thirteen healthy ships against his one crippled vessel.

  Adam was about to signal their surrender when an echo sounded in his head.

  Yippee-ki-ay, mother fu—

  Riyad…is that you?

  And who else would be coming to rescue your sorry ass?

  The voice in his head was a godsend, and within seconds he saw the first blasts from the elongated, black-hulled starship coming out of their twelve o’clock. And Riyad wasn’t alone. There was a second ship on his left flank.

  Adam recognized the signature of the ships immediately. They were ancient Marauder class warships commonly used by the pirates of the Fringe. Riyad once commanded the rag-tag fleet of space raiders; it looked like he’d picked up where he’d left off.

  We were in the neighborhood and thought we’d drop by. I have Angar in the other ship.

  Welcome, both of you. But really, how did you know?

  Riyad didn’t answer until he and the second pirate ship had demolished another five Cartel ships and sent the others scurrying away in all directions. Then he positioned his two ships to either side of Adam’s.

  I got a call from Kaylor. He said he couldn’t get here in time and asked if there was anything I could do. Who was I to let a friend down in his time of need?

  Your timing couldn’t have been better, Adam thought. But we can’t stay here for long. The Cartel can bring in even more ships. Rendezvous at one-point-eight-oh, grid seven. Now break away and dip into some deep wells.

  Still giving orders, aren’t you? Well aye, aye, Sir Cain, sir.

  Asshole.

  That I am.

  12

  The three starships met up about half a light-year outside the Navior system. They powered down to minimums to keep from being spotted by any Cartel craft out looking for them. Riyad fastened an umbilical crossover tube to Adam’s ship, while Angar came over in a small, one-person transfer pod.

  Adam hadn’t seen Riyad for a year, not since he stormed off the planet Earth in a huff after learning all his money was gone. There was also talk he might be charged with some twenty-five-year-old terrorist activities he was involved in back in his old life. Adam had to admit, their homeworld was fast becoming a very inhospitable place for him and his team.

  The two old friends hugged and laughed, while the Nimorian Angar stood back looking relaxed and confident. The alien had once been the second-in-command of the sixty-ship-strong Fringe Pirates, just one position below their diabolical leader, Riyad Tarazi. When Riyad ran off to join Adam’s merry band of rebels, the alien took over and had led the group ever since. Adam greeted him warmly. Although they didn’t know each other well, they had crossed paths several times throughout the years. Adam noticed a silent strength about the husky, hairy alien he hadn’t noticed before. It had to be from age. Like the rest of them, Angar was older and wiser. He also knew Humans better and wasn’t intimidated by them like he had been in the past.

  “So what are you doing here?” Adam asked.

  Riyad flashed his trademark white smiled, enhanced by his dark, olive-oil skin. “Broke and desperate, I returned to the Fringe and looked up my old friend Angar. He was still operating a small fleet of raiders, but times were tough.”

  “When the Klin destroyed the population of Silea, it put an end to commerce in the Fringe,” Angar went on to explain. “I only had five ships when General Tarazi showed up. Three of the captains decided to stay in the Fringe, while Riyad and I sought more profitable ventures in the Kidis Frontier. It is larger than the Fringe and still wild to a degree. We have been hunting vulnerable ves
sels for half a standard year.”

  “And we’re glad you have been,” Adam said, placing a hand on the Nimorian’s shoulder. He turned to Riyad. “Did Kaylor say how far away he is?”

  “Another two days. We’ll send him our coordinates when the reunion is over.”

  The reunion—as it were—was brief, cut short when Copernicus and Sherri insisted on changing the subject.

  “Yeah, great to see you too,” Sherri said impatiently. “But look what we have!”

  Copernicus waved a hand at the grid-covered dark matter collector and the satchel holding the containers of gray cubes. “These things are worth over a hundred million credits,” he proclaimed proudly. He wasn’t afraid any of his friends would try to muscle in on his action; he was already going to share some of the money with them for the rescue.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked when neither Adam nor Riyad appeared impressed.

  Adam’s expression questioned Riyad’s reaction. “Kaylor told me,” he said.

  Adam nodded.

  “Told you what?”

  Adam stepped up to the innocuous-looking metal device. “You can’t sell it, Coop, it’s too dangerous.”

  “What!” said Sherri and Coop in unison. “You can’t be serious,” Sherri continued. “We’ve almost died several times just to keep hold of these things. I have no idea what you’re talking about…too dangerous?”

  “It’s true,” Adam said. “I came out here looking for you, to save you. Do you have any idea what you have?”

  “We know exactly what we have,” Copernicus growled. “It’s a dark matter collector that will revolutionize power production in the galaxy. Everyone wants it…and we have it. Hell, I was even going to offer you a piece of the pie for saving us, but right now, I’m not so sure.”

  “Why are you doing this, Adam?” Sherri asked, her voice pleading.

  “That’s right?” Coop said. “And what the hell are you doing out here anyway? This has nothing to do with you…or you either, Riyad.”

  Adam sat down on a couch and crossed his legs. “I was hired by the Gracilians to recover the unit—”

  “From us!” Sherri cried out. “From your friends.”

  “That’s right. But the aliens gave me information you obviously don’t have. Dark matter is extremely dangerous. Just one of the cubes you have—if breached—could destroy everything within a half mile radius. And the amount of material in the collector can create a singularity large enough to impact a tenth of the galaxy.”

  “Bullshit, Cain,” said Copernicus. “You’re just saying that…so you can keep it for yourself.”

  “I’m serious, Coop.”

  “And so what if it’s dangerous? Every power source is dangerous. We’ll let the buyers figure out how to make it safe. That’s not our job. The Gracilians were going to keep it for themselves. We’re giving it to the people of the galaxy.”

  “For a hundred million credits,” Riyad chimed in.

  Copernicus looked like he wanted to rip Riyad’s head off his shoulders. “That’s right, Tarazi. Hell, you’re a good one to talk about morality. You just admitted you and your alien friend have been out in the Frontier stalking innocent cargo ships. But I supposed that’s okay…if you do it.”

  “Adam, we’re going to sell the collector and that’s it,” Sherri stated defiantly. “Don’t try to stop us.” Her voice was a trembling mess.

  Adam remained silent, letting the news sink in.

  Sherri wasn’t giving up. “Coop is right. Every technology has its risks. Fusion reactors are extremely dangerous, yet they’re now the size of a refrigerator and nearly every building and neighborhood has one. You even have one on this ship. MK and Fazon will find a way to make the dark matter safe. They’ll have to if they want a viable product that people will buy.”

  “That’s right,” Coop said. “You’re just being paranoid.”

  “Did you ever wonder why the Gracilians didn’t accept any of the offers they received?” Adam asked. “They weren’t being greedy, as you thought. It’s because they know how dangerous the stuff it. And just think, there will be people who will turn this technology into a weapon—the ultimate weapon. Instant black holes. How do you defend against a black hole?”

  “We make black holes all the time,” Sherri countered. “And yes, they can be used as weapons—you’ve done it yourself. But they’re too valuable of a tool not to take the risk. It will be the same with dark matter.”

  Adam pursed his lips. “You’re probably right, but are you willing to take that risk?”

  “Hell yeah!” Coop shouted. “For a hundred million credits I’ll accept a lot of risk. Sherri and I took that risk when we stole the collector; we’re doing it now.”

  “And you’re willing to risk the rest of the galaxy?”

  It was Sherri’s turn to take up the argument. “Fuck the galaxy! What has it ever done for us? We’ve risked our lives for years only to get shit upon, not only by the galaxy, but our own people. We’re all out here trying to rebuild lives, lives that were taken from us against our will. None of us asked for this to happen, now or twenty years ago. But here we have a chance to make a fortune, and your high morals say no. Even if what you say is true, we could still live out pretty comfortable lives with a hundred million credits for the time we have left.”

  Adam laughed. Their arguments made sense. And they were right; he didn’t owe the galaxy anything. Conversely, he and his team were owed a lot.

  He shook his head. Still, it was too much. “You realize that if you sell this technology to Maris-Kliss, every flash weapon will become a ticking time bomb? What if a nano-pair of particles was able to meet somehow? Whole city blocks would disappear. Thousands of people would die. And imagine trillions of these tiny black hole bombs spread across the galaxy.”

  “Hypothetical bullshit,” Coop said.

  “Look at the collector, Smith!” Adam said. “It’s still producing cubes using material…from where, just from what it has inside? When that runs out and the collector stops producing cubes, do you think the companies will just say oh well, it was good while it lasted? No, they’ll reverse engineer the device and start collecting dark matter in quantity, and using their own containment methods.” Adam threw up his hands. “You know me; I’ll do just about anything for a buck, but this is too much. We have to do the right thing.”

  “And the right thing is giving the collector back to the Gracilians?” Sherri asked. “They’ll just keep working on the thing until they either figure out a way to mass produce the particles…or destroy us all.”

  “That’s why we’re not going to give it back to them.”

  “What are you talking about?” Sherri asked, dumbfounded.

  “It’s too dangerous for even the Gracilians to have—”

  “Wait a minute,” Coop said. “We haven’t decided shit. Besides, it’s not your decision to make.”

  “You’re right,” Adam said. “We all have to agree. Take some time to think it through.”

  “And then what, we just destroy it?” Sherri asked.

  Adam shook his head again. “We can’t do that, either. There are sixty cubes in the collector. If they rupture, that would be it, the end of everything.”

  “At least then we wouldn’t have to worry about all the money we don’t have,” Coop grunted, exhausted from the debate and sounding defeated.

  “If we can’t destroy it, then what do we do with it?” Riyad asked. Adam felt he was on his side, but the question was valid.

  “We have to take it someplace where it won’t be a danger to us.”

  “But to other people?”

  “That will be their problem; right now, one thing at a time.”

  13

  Meals were prepared and eaten mostly in silence. The team had a decision to make and it wasn’t going to be easy either way. About the only person above the fray was the Nimorian Angar. A few of the team asked his opinion and he just shrugged, saying the decision was theirs.
>
  Exhausted, Sherri, Copernicus and Adam retired to staterooms to get some rest. Riyad returned to his ship through the pressured umbilical tunnel and Angar slept on a couch in the common room rather than take his little pod back to his ship.

  A few hours later, Adam was awoken by an incoming CW link. He’d routed the alert to his stateroom and now staggered onto the bridge. He fought the veils of exhaustion while slipping onto the seat at the CW comm station.

  The message was from Jym on the Colony Ship.

  “Adam, a force of spacecraft has taken up positions surrounding the station,” he reported in a panic.

  Adam was expecting this. “Relax, Jym. The buyers for the dark matter collector have decided to take a more active role in acquiring the device. They feel the negotiations are dead and it’s best just to take the damn thing. They’ve traced the ship that rescued Sherri and Copernicus to me. I was expecting them to show up.”

  “You were? And what am I supposed to do? I can’t hold off a force such as this alone, even if the station was fully powered.”

  “They won’t attack. They’re waiting for me to return with the device. We’re not going to, so you’ll be safe.”

  “You’re not returning to the station?”

  “Not until we’ve disposed of the dark matter collector.”

  “Are you not going to return it to the Gracilians? What of the other half-million credits they owe us?”

  “The technology is too dangerous, Jym. You heard what they said.”

  “But they will keep it safe.”

  “Not when the most-powerful organizations in the galaxy are after it. Eventually someone will get it. After that, who knows?”

  “Who knows what?”

  “Who knows what will happen.”

  “But we can keep the credits already given?”

  “They’re non-refundable, so yeah.” Adam yawned. “I’m going back to bed now. Keep me informed. I don’t want Maris-Kliss or any of the others to get the bright idea to hold the Colony Ship hostage for the collector.”