by Jim Laughter
Keith reached into his wallet and took out a fifty-dollar bill.
“Here’s fifty dollars,” he said, handing the crisp new note to the driver. “This is only our first stop. There’s another fifty in it for you if you’ll wait and take us wherever we need to go. Deal?”
“Ya can bet your last glass of Guinness it’s a deal, boyo,” the driver said. “I’m gonna pull up under that tree right over there,” he pointed, “and wait for ya. You boys just take your time.”
“May we leave our bags in your boot,” Darrel asked.
“Sure ya can,” the driver answered. “They’ll be safe as a shamrock on Saint Patty’s Day.”
Keith made a conscious note of the driver’s name and taxi registration number just in case they came out of the building and the car was gone, absconding with their bags. Not that there was anything of value in them, just a change of clothes and a couple of paperback books. He knew better than to leave anything concerning the Axia unprotected. He carried his portable computer with him. He certainly wasn’t going to leave it in the car, regardless how trustworthy the driver may have been.
Darrel and Keith climbed the stairs to the massive entry of the administration building and swung open the heavy oak doors. Although the building dated back probably a couple hundred years, the interior was modern.
It didn’t take long for the men to find the faculty office. A blonde girl of approximately twenty-three or twenty-four years looked up from a law book she was reading.
“May I help you?”
“Yes ma’am,” Darrel answered. “We’re trying to locate Professor Yohan Nashar. He’s a linguistic teacher on exchange from Denmark.”
The young lady activated her desktop computer.
“What’s your business with Professor Nashar?”
“He’s my uncle,” Keith answered, his voice heavily accented with a Danish lilt. “I’ve just arrived in country and was hoping to catch up with him while I’m in town.”
The young blonde stroked the keyboard a few times until she found the directory she was looking for.
“Ah yes, here it is.”
Keith’s heartbeat increased. He couldn’t believe he was this close to finding an Axia citizen that had been missing for over fifteen years.
“Professor Yohan Nashar,” the girl continued. “You know he’s a tenured professor now, don’t you? His exchange status changed five years ago.”
“I didn’t know that,” Keith answered. “I’ve not seen my uncle since my father’s funeral almost ten years ago. I’m very anxious to see him.”
The girl stroked the keys a few more time, searching for the professor’s class schedule.
“He doesn’t have any classes today.”
Keith let out a sad breath which must have been picked up by the girl. The look on his face must also relayed his disappointment to her.
“But you know,” she said, “the professor flies those little over-under winged airplanes out at that little airstrip just south of town. I can’t think of the name of it, but it’s right off of Interstate 93. You can’t miss it.”
She printed off a sheet of paper and handed it across the counter to Keith.
“If he’s not there, this is his class schedule for tomorrow. Maybe you can catch him before you have to leave.”
“You’ve been wonderful,” Keith said, bringing a smile to the young lady’s face. “I wish there were some way I could repay you.”
“It’s not necessary,” she replied. “I just hope you can get a taxi. They’re almost impossible to find one out here this early.”
“We’ve got one waiting outside,” Darrel said. “Thanks again.”
Darrel and Keith waved goodbye to the young lady who returned to her law book. She glanced up just as the boys were leaving the building.
The dark-haired one’s kind of cute. And the other one’s not bad either.
When Darrel and Keith emerged from the administration building, they looked around for their taxi. Sure enough, and true to his word, they saw the Crown Victoria parked under the tree right where the driver said he would be waiting. The boys walked over to the taxi and slid into the back seat.
“That didn’t take ya very long,” the driver said.
“We were lucky,” Darrel answered. “Do you know where there’s a small air strip south of Boston just off of Interstate 93?”
“Sure I do,” the driver answered. “That’ll be the old reserve strip. They fly those little biplanes out there for the air shows, and there’s a flight school out there too. Why?”
“Because that’s where we need to go,” Keith answered.
“It’ll cost ya another twenty.”
Darrel reached into his wallet and pulled out another crisp fifty dollar bill. “This should cover it,” he said. “Just get us to the operations building.”
“You got it, boyo.”
Darrel and Keith were pushed back in their seats again when the driver threw the powerful car into gear and accelerated down the campus street.
This guy only has one speed, Keith thought. Fast. Maybe we ought to recruit him to fly patrollers. The citizens of Boston would certainly be safer.
∞∞∞
Security Officer Rome looked up glumly from the report in front of him. Robert Hassel sat across from him. It had been a week since Delmar's disappearance.
"What've you got?" Robert asked, searching Rome's eyes for any indication of hope.
"Nothing really,” Rome replied evenly.
"Did you check out the leads I gave you?"
"Yes, I did. We even had scout ships do extra sweeps around that system in case he was hiding nearby."
"So where do we go from here?"
"Quite frankly, I don't know,” Rome replied. "Short of doing a screen-to-screen sweep of all space between here and there, I haven't a clue."
"He has to turn up someplace.”
"If he can,” Rome said. "Remember, he is on an old ship with failing systems. He has no navigation or emergency beacons. If it dies and leaves him stranded somewhere, we'd have no way to find him short of bumping into him by accident."
Robert sighed.
"I already thought of that,” he said quietly. "I only hope he turns up soon. And I hope those systems don't fail."
∞∞∞
At that very moment, Delmar was hoping the same thing. He had already shut down most of the DayStar's systems to conserve energy while he raced toward the stricken Robin Murrin. But even that didn’t seem to be enough.
He’d already lowered his life support system to minimum power and was dressed in his pressure suit in case the ship lost atmospheric integrity. Reaching over, he also turned the comm system he had been nursing down to minimum power. As much as he wanted to shut it off because of the drain it was taking on the DayStar's failing power supply, he needed it for final approach to the distressed ship.
Delmar went over the situation mentally as he understood it. The Robin Murrin was for all practical purposes a dead ship. They had totally lost control and drive capability. The comm was working fine, even though Jim Ontak, the captain of the Robin Murrin, reported the comm panel was torn out when the debris passed through the ship. Captain Ontak and his three-person crew were in suits now because of the hull breech.
Delmar had gotten the rundown on damages in hopes of helping them repair their ship. Unfortunately, the debris had severed critical control and power cables that could not be patched or replaced short of a major repair depot. As much as he disliked it, he was going to have to take the crew of the Robin Murrin aboard the DayStar. That would mean five people crammed into a ship designed for two under the best of conditions, and the DayStar certainly did not meet that criteria at the moment.
A signal from his proximity detector screen alerted Delmar that he was within visual range now of the Robin Murrin. He scanned the open space ahead of him as he powered down the detector system to save energy. Ahead and twenty degrees to port, he saw a brief flash of light as somethin
g metallic reflected starlight back at him.
"Got you in sight now,” Delmar said into his mic. "Can you blink any outside lights to confirm?"
"Roger that, DayStar,” Captain Ontak replied over the comm.
Delmar saw a small set of exterior lights blink. Adjusting his controls, he slowed the DayStar and maneuvered toward the stricken ship.
"Thank you,” Delmar said into the mic. "I'll be alongside in a minute."
"Roger that,” Ontak answered. "We see you now. And for an old ship, you look good to me!"
"I’m glad you think so,” Delmar said. "Standby."
Using the axis ball, Delmar brought the DayStar in close to the Robin Murrin. The damage from the collision with the debris was obvious. Not only were there two holes where space slag pierced the freighter, but a small cloud of shredded metal was expanding from the exit hole in the fuselage. At least there were no human remains do deal with.
Delmar shook his head while he surveyed the damage. It was unusual for a ship to stop in space without the drive system on standby. It was normal procedure to stay powered since the drive system of the ships provide a repulsion field as a byproduct that would deflect any space debris of less than meteor size. Totally shutting down the drive collapsed the repulsion field, leaving the ship defenseless.
"Are your magnetic clamps still working?" Delmar asked into the mic.
"Negative,” Ontak replied from the Robin Murrin.
Delmar sighed. Now he would have to use even more power for the electro-magnetic clamps to hold the two ships together.
"Here come my clamps,” Delmar said.
He punched a button on his control panel and heard the clamps of the DayStar pop out toward the other ship.
"Locked on,” Ontak reported a moment later.
A light on Delmar's panel confirmed the docking procedure had been successful. He opened an airlock on the bottom of the DayStar that would allow access to the ship.
"Roger that,” Delmar said. "Come on over. We've got a mess to figure out."
"On our way,” Captain Ontak reported.
The change in his tone told Delmar that Ontak was now speaking via his suit transmitter. A few minutes later, the airlock indicator flashed as someone activated the closing mechanism in the lower region of the ship. How five people were going to get by on a one-man vessel was going to be a real problem.
∞∞∞
The wind rattled the sheet metal on the roof of the old hanger. Pete twisted a final tug on the wrench and then examined the fitting.
"That’s good and tight,” he called to Yohan who was sitting in the cockpit of the red biplane. "Try them again."
"You sure you got the right fitting?" Yohan asked.
"Sure I'm sure!" Pete hollered back. "I told you it was this lower fitting on the left brake line. Now try it!"
"Here goes.”
Yohan skeptically applied pressure to the brakes of Pete's plane. At the same time, Pete hunkered down to watch the fitting he had just tightened. Red brake fluid suddenly squirted from a different fitting, hitting Pete in the neck.
"Hey! Stop!” Pete yelled as the cold fluid ran down his neck and under his coveralls.
"I said stop!” he called again, but the fluid kept flowing.
"I did!" Yohan yelled back. The geyser of fluid finally slowed to a trickle and stopped. "What happened?"
"Oh nothing,” Pete said disgustedly.
He tried in vain to wipe the fluid off of his neck with a shop rag he’d produced from his hip pocket.
"It was a different fitting."
Yohan peeked around the side of plane and caught sight of Pete now soaked in the slippery red fluid. With effort, he stifled a laugh.
"Having trouble?" a strange voice said from the front of the hanger.
"Nothing much,” Pete answered nonchalantly. Turning to face the voice, he continued to wipe fluid from around his neck. Yohan climbed out of the cockpit. The man at the front of the hanger looked out of place, certainly not an airport bum like the other men hanging around the other planes. He wasn’t wearing coveralls, and his hands did not exhibit any grease under his fingernails.
"Can we help you?" Yohan asked just as a second man appeared from around the hanger door. This second man looked even more out of place.
"We're looking for Yohan Nashar,” the first man said. "We were told at the university that he might be at this airport. The control tower manager pointed us over here."
"I'm Yohan,” Yohan answered suspiciously. "Is there a problem?"
"Not at all,” the first man said as the second man stepped into the hanger. “That is, not if you’re Professor Nashar, the exchange linguistics professor at the university.”
Yohan looked the young man over from head to toe, and the other man too. He wasn’t sure what to think about these two men asking questions of him.
“That’s me,” Yohan answered. “But who are you?”
"My name is Keith,” the man answered, speaking in Axia standard. “And I assume you are Trooper-First John Eagleman.”
∞∞∞
"So that's the situation,” Delmar said to the three men and a woman crowded around him in the main cabin of the DayStar. The others were sipping glasses of the tomato juice that he’d come to loathe.
"I have a working ship but a failing power supply. I don't know how long it will last or what the strain of four extra people will place on it. I think it’s safe to say it won't last for long."
"What if we pull the power supply out of our ship?" one of the Robin crewmembers offered.
"No good,” another crewmember answered. "You can’t just pull a green box with ordinary hand tools. It is specially designed to avoid tampering."
"Besides,” Ontak added. "Thanks to our little accident, there is a frame member twisted and in the way."
"So we're stuck here until this ship fails too?" the third man asked. "We're jumping from one sinking ship to another."
"I have an idea!" the woman offered.
"What is it, Dez?" Ontak asked, looking over at the female crewmember.
"What if we run a patch between our power supply and this ship?" Dez asked. "I've got some cable listed on the freight manifest that might work. Of course, it would drain our power cells?”
“Who cares?” Ontak said. “We’re dead in the water anyway.”
"I've heard of it being done," Delmar offered. "I even required a jump once. But I’ve never heard of it being tried under these circumstances."
"That’s why there’s always a first time for everything,” Ontak said as he got up and reached for his clear space suit. "Let's go take a look and figure this thing out."
Hours later, Delmar, floating in space, looked over their handiwork. On his left was the damaged Robin Murrin, now just a floating hulk. On his right was the elderly DayStar, showing her age compared to the newer freighter. Steel cables entwined the two ships giving the appearance of a lopsided catamaran. Between them ran the makeshift power cables.
Dez, who had turned out to be an extraordinary engineer, had been able to rig connectors so they could splice into the main power coupling of the Robin Murrin. They were forced to scavenge through the remains of the Robin Murrin and the freight she was hauling.
The tedious part had been the necessity of cutting into the DayStar's power cable. Physically, it was easy. But if their idea didn't work, they would be floating there with two dead ships instead of one. Finally, Delmar and Ontak concluded that they really had no other choice since the DayStar could not get them very far on her own.
After powering down the DayStar totally, Dez accessed the power system and located the power cable. Cutting it with a simple hacksaw, she then affected a crude splice with the makeshift cables, snaking them over from the Robin Murrin. After securing the splice physically and insulating it, she tied the cable so it wouldn't work loose and break the connection.
"We're ready,” she called over the suit comm to Delmar who now sat in the control seat of the Day
Star. The others were floating outside, watching various parts of the two ships. If something broke loose unexpectedly, they wanted to see it happen so they could stop the experiment in time to make repairs.
"Here goes nothing,” Delmar called back over his suit comm as he reached for the main power switch. Sending a silent prayer off to the Unseen One, he flipped the heavy switch. Lights flashed on around him and the power meters of the DayStar swung over to show full charge.
"We're in business!" Ontak called excitedly over the comm. "Now hang tight while we seal up your ship."
"Roger that!" Delmar replied with a grin. He heard the clang of metal as those outside the DayStar swung the heavy metal panels shut and secured them. Then they would only have to put sealer around the small hole they had cut in one panel to pass the makeshift cable through. Inwardly satisfied with their success, Delmar began the powering-up procedure of the DayStar's systems and prepared to take them to safety.
And probably to my own court-martial.
CHAPTER 18
"You mean it's all true?" Pete asked.
"Of course it's true,” Yohan said with a smile.
The two friends sat at a table in the cafeteria of the Boston underground Watcher complex. Beside them were Darrel and a smiling Keith.
"Didn't you believe me?"
"Sure I did,” admitted an incredulous Pete. "But I didn't really believe you, if you know what I mean."
"Don't be so hard on yourself,” Darrel chimed in. "It took me a while to be convinced."
"But this...!" Pete said, motioning around the room. "I mean right here under our noses."
"Been here for years,” Keith added. "I mean the Watchers. Not this particular complex."
He looked across the table at Yohan. The man was all smiles.
"Do you know what it's been like for me all these years?" Yohan asked. "And now I'm finally on my way home."
"So where does that leave me?" Pete asked. "And all of us here?"
"I don't know,” Yohan honestly admitted. "What of it, Keith?"
