AmerIndian 2192

by J. Scott Garibay

CHAPTER 07

  “I think you are going to like the additions,” Kill Spotted Horse headed up the ramp of the Trighter. “Two Sand Kings, one top, one bottom. There's a training program on the Trighter’s comp. Should only take Slow Turtle an hour or two. I also added thermo and twilight options to the optical package on each of your body tanks.”

  Kill Spotted Horse finger tapped a blueprint to Wovoka’s comp set view. Wovoka’s sixty-ton transport/fighter (Trighter) was detailed at 1/20 scale.

  Fifteen meters high and twenty-eight meters from keel to stern, the Trighter had a squat, compact design. The Trighter was an amalgamation of two distinct space-faring vessels. The chassis and frame of the Trighter were from a UDA heavy fighter used for high power strafing runs and light bombing missions. The rear end of the heavy fighter, nearly a third of the entire vessel, had been chopped off. In place of the amputated rear was a massive engine, nearly five meters in length, width and height. The engine consisted of two gigantic heavy water hydrogen propulsion systems mounted on a large swivel joint. The engine was originally used to power a troop transport ten times larger than the fighter frame it was now attached to.

  This jury-rigged contraption was the brainchild of Jowato, one of Kill Spotted Horse's underling mechanics. The Trighter, the only one of its kind in the AmerIndian Confederacy's fleet, was Wovoka's first and only choice of transportation for his Infiltrator pack once he had seen it. Wovoka admired the uncompromising purpose of the Trighter - pure unadulterated speed, sacrificing maneuverability and concealability to achieve it.

  Wovoka followed Kill Spotted Horse through the entry port and through the confines of the Trighter until they entered a small room near the rear. Four body tanks surrounded him. Each mobile armor suit sported garish neon patterns, except for Cavaho's unit, which was matte black. Kill Spotted Horse smacked his hands against Wovoka's armor. “Replaced six dermal armor plates and ran a complete overhaul of the solid state frames. It's prime.”

  Wovoka stepped forward and inspected the dermal plates on his Heavy Jaguar body tank. He finger tapped a simple command to the suit. The whole surface of the suit changed color. The orange, red and green muted, disappeared and all that remained was the true plasteel chrome of the body tanks's hide. All indicator bars read normal and the performance benchmarks were well above spec. “I can't thank you enough, Kill Spotted Horse. Superb work.”

  “Hey, no thanks necessary. Your pack earns the points necessary for these upgrades. My pack makes it happen.”

  Kill Spotted Horse walked to the cockpit and sat in one of the comfortable command chairs. “So tell me about Naanac.”

  Wovoka finger tapped. “Rep Naanac. Core data.” A visual of Naanac appeared on Kill Spotted Horse’s comp set view. “It's a settled planet owned and operated by Rowan Cartel. They have kept it secret from the UDA for six years. They kept it under raps because their settlement of the planet, if you can call two hundred researchers a settlement, violates the UDA Core Space Policy.

  “Rowan is currently using the planet as private research area. It's sketchy what they are working on but limited intelligence we have suggests some type of small arms, maybe a new cloaking technology. Real trick is getting on and off of the planet. Once every year Rowan builds a chunnel through this asteroid field that surrounds the planet. The locals call the asteroid field ‘the Free Mantle.’ The chunnel they build is two kilometers of flexible plasteel fifty meters in diameter. One Rowan shuttle takes all of the research for the year back to Rowan Headquarters. The chunnel lasts for thirty-six hours. After that the asteroid belt breaches the chunnel's structural integrity and it is no longer passable by any ship. My pack will have a thirty-six hour window to penetrate the Free Mantle, take our survey and get back out before the chunnel collapses.”

  Kill Spotted Horse shook his head. “Well, the Trighter is ready. No question. I don't think you will use the body tanks if this op is done right. What you will need is some good tracking and mapping equipment suitable for severe, wet weather. You are also going to need some type of trick to get you from the chunnel down to the surface of the planet without setting off every sensor suite Rowan will have trained on the chunnel. That's not going to be easy.”

  Kill Spotted Horse called up pictures and specs of various ship anti-sensor devices. “I don't know, Wovoka. Even our best anti-sensor units won't hide the Trighter well enough with the kind of surveillance Rowan is bound to have set up on a once-a-year entry and exit project. You're going to have to give me a few hours on this.”

  Wovoka nodded and got up. “Call me when you are ready.” He exited and Kill Spotted Horse got to work.

  Wovoka joined Slow Turtle on their regular perch, third cross beam from the Kellion couplers of Wanderer. This vantage point gave an excellent view of the eliminator races. Tribal youth used the inner hull of the lodge ship as a racetrack. Large groups of male and even a few female teens dialed in their grav boards.

  The grav board races were an important activity among the tribal youth. While Wanderer’s Nez Perce youth were awarded more freedom at the races than elsewhere in the lodge ship, it was well known among the youth that pack alphas often prowled the high beams checking out young tribals soon to be recruits for their packs. Despite the AC's philosophies of brotherhood and harmony, the grav board racers tended toward cliques. The Elders fought against the term “gangs.” Violence erupted occasionally, but it never escalated to weapons. A broken nose here or there, certainly. Tribals under the age of sixteen, the age of account, were not bound by the Three Laws AC adults were. The Elders allowed the gangs (Gothoj, Edge and Skree) because each was a chaotic mix of youths from every tribe. Incorporating the sons and daughters of cross-workers with ease, the gangs actually integrated the tribes far better than any of the Elders' efforts.

  A new race was about to start and Wovoka and Slow Turtle each pointed out the young tribal they thought would win the race. The cross beam Wovoka and Slow Turtle sat on was perpendicular to the inner hull the grav board riders raced on. The grav board riders had to maintain a speed of seventy kilometers per hour to remain on the inner wall.

  The clean smooth surface of plaschrome covering the inner hull walls gleamed. At intervals of ninety meters, two-meter high structure beams divided the surface. The beams had large holes in them by design. The grav board riders had to dodge into these holes as they raced.

  The eliminator races featured packs of thirty or forty riders accelerating around the hull. The last racer to pass the start line was eliminated. The grav discs on last racer's board automatically cut out and the young tribal fell to loose netting just above the bottom of the hull walls.

  The race began, grav racers shooting out of a large opened vacuum pipe against the hull wall that was used to vent atmosphere during maintenance of the lodge ship. The riders immediately changed their orientation ninety degrees when they popped out of the pipe. All of the riders did this effortlessly and accelerated their boards.

  The pack of riders spread out across the wall so there would be less crowding at the structural beam holes they each had to pass through. This did little to reduce the carnage at the beam holes. The riders shoved, checked and jostled each other off the boards, which was legal in eliminator races. Grav racers fell like rain to the netting below. Half the racers were in the nets before the second lap was finished. Once the numbers thinned the race became more finesse than force. The riders were spaced apart and there was room to let the boards rip. The riders darted through the beam holes one after another.

  A young Kichai led the race. He pushed his board to the point of instability pegging out around 110 K.P.H., the maximum for the custom designed boards. Above 110 K.P.H. and the boards became unstable and threw their riders. If the board was made larger to accommodate more speed it became more unwieldy and could not make tight curves that were critical when maneuvering.

  Wovoka laughed as the last place rider’s board cut off and he whirled down to the net in an iron cross.
With only ten riders left and four laps to go it was now an all out speed race. The leading Kichai was tucked low, knees bent, arms thrust straight as arrows behind him. The board vibrated hard beneath him. He pulled away from his pursuers.

  Three riders dropped back and another was eliminated. Wovoka and Slow Turtle grimaced as two racers slammed together trying to get through a beam hole simultaneously. They squeezed through, avoiding the brutal breaking rewarded to any rider unfortunate enough to slam into the makeshift padding the young tribals had fitted around each hole.

  The next lap took only thirty seconds with no change in position for the riders. As the last lap began, the second place rider, a hard looking Nez Perce, pulled next to the lead rider. The Nez Perce's board shook violently. Both riders realized one of them had to go down or neither would make it through the next hole. Both riders rose slightly from their crouch and braced for an impact. Their boards scraped together, their arms flailed wildly.

  The lead Kichai rider amazed his audience by jumping lightly from his own board to his pursuer's, dislodging him. The Kichai's board and the Nez Perce rider plummeted to the net while the Kichai racer finished the race on the stolen board.

  Slow Turtle grinned at Wovoka. “Who would have thought a briefcase jockey could ride like that? Let's hope his stock picks are as sound as his riding skills.”

  The next race was only a few laps in when Kill Spotted Horse climbed up to join them. He pulled out a slate and the other two slid close to him.

  In a moment all three were looking at a detailed comp simulation of the upcoming mission for Wovoka’s pack. The simulation showed a Rowan shuttle exiting a chunnel through Naanac's Free Mantle. A moment later, the Trighter could be seen rocketing through the chunnel. The Trighter would blast through the chunnel at a speed of 3,500 K.P.H. on autopilot. No human would be able to pilot the sixty-ton Trighter through the fifty-meter chunnel without a good chance of grinding the Trighter into dust with one small mistake.

  The simulation slowed and displayed a close up of the Trighter. Just before it exited the chunnel the Trighter lit up, blazing bright white. The human eye would see only a brilliant ball of light. The comp then switched to a close up of a torpedo bay on the Trighter releasing a long, jet-black drone. The drone shot out and hovered just a few meters from the Trighter. It broke in two, dispersing sixty, twenty-centimeter spheres that shot away in all directions, each mirroring the brilliant ball of light that was the Trighter. All sixty dupes and the Trighter shot toward the ground. The simulation ended abruptly.

  Kill Spotted Horse shifted trying to get comfortable on the hard plasteel of the crossbeam. “According to Zuni intelligence there's no more than thirty aero-fighters on the entire planet. The research complex is the only man-made structure on Naanac. There are approximately two hundred Rowan employees and a garrison of twenty mercenary and corporate soldiers on Naanac. Problem is that data is eleven months old and it was stolen off an anti-UDA sub-net. It could be complete drek.”

  Wovoka frowned, “So if the data is correct they won’t have near enough man power to chase all sixty bogeys. Are you sure the drones will fool their sensors?”

  “The drones won't fail. It's all top of the line Fuchi tech, high grade. Their sensors won't break them. All part of the Fuchi 'Northern Lights' system. Should come in handy in other ways. If anyone looks at it from closer than thirty meters it will blind them for over an hour. It can also flash in any color of the spectrum and the comp can even orchestrate light patterns for communication.”

  Slow Turtle spoke up. “I've had one concern since I first looked at this mission. What if Rowan closes the chunnel early? Won't our pack be trapped on Naanac until another chunnel is built?”

  “Impossible, “ Kill Spotted Horse shook his head. “It costs Rowan twenty million creds to set up and charge the chunnel for thirty-six hours. One shuttle comes in with one year of supplies and leaves with one year of research. Rowan will not waste twenty million creds and they will not let any delay occur in receiving that data. Allowing the chunnel to close would mean a delay of at least fifty days. There’s a strict schedule. Other projects rely on this research. The chunnel closing early is simply not an option. Rowan personnel won't close that chunnel and you can't close it either, Wovoka. Rowan is not a UDA entity, so the AmerIndian Confederacy has no reason to anger them. We are there to gather a few Naanac animals for study and care, maybe some quick eco-scans, in and out, that's all.”

  “No problem,” Wovoka began to stand. “It looks like a solid plan. We'll go with it.”

  Wovoka checked his comp set. “We have twenty-eight hours before go time. The pack will go over the plan by simulator. Thank you, Kill Spotted Horse.”

  Wovoka climbed down the beams and back onto the inner hull of the lodge ship. Kill Spotted Horse scooted closer to the edge of the beam to get a better look at the next race. Slow Turtle quickly began to argue with him whether the Skree were more likely to take the Golden Hoop than Edge.