Chapter 15
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The following morning Rita got to work bright and early. She spent hours studying the EID diagrams and Frig's implementation of them. More than once she screamed out in exclamation at what she saw. She was soon drafting up plans to modify the shielding around the ion feeds, as well as to decouple the cannon from the engines. Frig was fighting her designs every step of the way.
Rita said, “You don't want your engines wired into this cannon. That's absurdly dangerous. You have this big fat cargo space here that’s just begging for an ion generator or two. I saw the specs on one just the other day that could power that cannon. You would lose some cargo capacity, but it would be worth it for the safety, as well as taking care of your sensitivity to negative ions.
“In fact, I think we could add some inverters here and here, and make these engines switchable on the fly. Might take a two-second purge to clean out those chambers, but the negative engines would be just as efficient when tuned. And if we get that working, we should be able to apply it to that cannon. You could do some nasty things to a lot of ships with that powerful of a negative pulse. It's not something most are shielded for.”
After two days of consulting, I flew Rita back to Orcon-3. Her business was quickly sold, and she packed her things for a move. She was eager to begin the ion transformation of the Swift, and I was eager to have her do it. The Swift would be immune to the effects of the negative ion wave of the nebula and to the captive ion field frequently used by the pirates. During our trip we managed to purchase two of the ion generators Rita had mentioned. It would be her job to integrate them into the Swift's systems.
Upon our return to Bullwort, George left to find a buyer for our first load of Tantric ore and scout for any Blevin Defender hulls that might still be in existence. On his first visit to Mervid-5, he happened upon two such ships. They had been out of service for a number of years. Lacking modern computers and more efficient drive systems, they had become too expensive to fly.
George was able to purchase the ships for a fair price. They would be delivered to another system by a hired carrier, and then to a second system by a second carrier. From there, it would be my responsibility to lease and then fly a transport large enough to fit them in its cargo hold. We continued to take steps to cover our tracks.
With the sale of our first load of refined ore, we were able to begin the needed updates to our two new ships. They would be called the Fist and the Dagger. The Fist, named in honor of Rita, would be the first to undergo upgrades. It was my job to see to it that we had all the parts necessary. I had now taken on the tasks of parts runner, crew recruiter, and test pilot.
When Rita had completed her upgrades to the Swift, the ship was ready for a test of her new abilities. Gy was first to give me a rundown of what he had accomplished.
“I think this might have been my finest work. You have fourteen layers of aquamarine crystals folded into that outer plating. I took the time to grind those crystals extra fine. She should be able to take a full-on charge from one of those Milgari cannons. Keep in mind, though, each time you take a hit, the armor degrades. Tantric is tough, but it has its limits. The ship will fly like a barge through the atmosphere. It’s heavy. But get it out yonder, away from a significant source of gravity, and it should fly like a dream.”
Rita was next with her updates. “OK, the cannon and engine feeds have been split, and automated inverters added to each. Switchover takes about two seconds, and both should be equally efficient as positive or negative. I would almost say just fly negative all the time, but there are positive nebulae out there too. I was also able to boost the cannon efficiency by about 7 percent.
“The big additions are the two new ion generators and a small storage well. You should be able to rapid-fire that cannon at four pulses per second, full charge. However, you will run into a heating problem at that point, so I would advise keeping the number to a half dozen or so bursts, with a five-second rest in between. That should be a sustainable run rate. And if you're running negative, well, let’s just say whoever is on the receiving end is not going to be happy about it. A negative pulse that big could fry their electronics in a bad way.
“Now for the good news... her engines will be running at probably... 40 percent better efficiency. With Gy's new Tantric plating, I've wired in that small ion well to hold a charge that can be applied to the hull. It’ll be useful for dissipating a bolt charge of the opposite polarity, as well as for keeping snoopers away while parked. Anyone touching that hull when they shouldn’t is not going to walk away from it.
“I've wired the well to detect the source resistance of hull contact. Should provide a substantial stun, but nothing lethal. Don’t want the innocent getting all up in arms over a nosy kid getting zapped. I have to say, I wish I was flying out with you, but the Fist is in need of some major overhauling, so enjoy your ride.”
I was impressed with the team of professionals we had assembled in such a short time. All had a commitment to hard work and personalities that did not clash. Hopefully, their early accomplishments foretold what we would be capable of.
I looked over the newly updated Swift. Her hull was now a shiny bronze, and she sported a new call number, BULL488. She had gone from a bulky old fighter to a bright, clean, fast cargo hauler. That was on the outside; the inside told a much different story.
She was fast, possibly the fastest ship in the galaxy. She was heavily defended, having Tantric plating that could withstand all but the most powerful of cannons. Her armament was equal in effectiveness to that found on a ship a thousand times her size. Her computer and sensors were cutting edge, and her pilot... well, he was ruggedly handsome.
The doors of hangar 8 opened wide and I taxied out. The Swift was hovering only a few feet off the ground, but I could feel what Gy had predicted: she felt heavy, as though a wet blanket had been thrown over her. I set the coordinates for orbit and pushed the throttle to full. The Swift rocketed skyward and the brightly-lit sky quickly faded to the blackness of space.
As I left the orbit of Bullwort, she smoothly accelerated up to our new top speed. With the generators driving 100 percent, the speed gauge read 337 SOL. I targeted the first large asteroid in the system and brought the cannon online. For kicks, I switched the polarity to negative and pushed the trigger. The asteroid violently shattered and the Swift moved effortlessly through the debris.
I checked and rechecked the status of systems; all in the green. I checked the ion consumption and was impressed with a 42 percent lower burn rate than she had displayed before. I set a course for Grid space in an attempt to contact some of the other Messenger pilots. Two out of three of them, Niles Beager and Davis Holcomb, were the best pilots I knew.
Michael Felix was the other, but I was not about to involve him in our little plan. He had warned me of the warrant for my arrest and for that I was thankful, but Michael Felix never did anything without a motive, and I was unsure of his exact reason for informing me. For the time being at least, Michael Felix would remain on the outside.
After two days of tracking transponders, Davis Holcomb made an appearance. “G7902, G7902... come in.”
I waited for several seconds before getting a somewhat tepid reply. “This is Holcomb... I don't recognize your transponder code. Can you state your business?”
I had a short laugh before responding. “G7902. This is the space police. That hull color is a violation of code 221. I'm going to have to take you in.”
The comm sat silent for several seconds. “If I didn't know better, I would say that sounds like the lamest comedian this side of Marcon. Let me switch to a TC and we'll talk.”
A targeted channel was the best way to communicate securely in space. Instead of a wide broadcast, an encrypted beam sent messages directly at the receiving ship. The receiver would then send a beam back, establishing a somewhat secure comm channel that was difficult to detect.
“Whoa... Don Grange. You kind of
disappeared from this place. I didn't believe for one second you were involved with what they said. Although, they did have most people convinced, with all the credits you had been making. Not a big stretch to tie the two together.”
I listened to Davis’s take on the matter for several minutes before responding. “I appreciate that you believed in me, Davis. It's easy to believe what’s being reported when it’s coming from law enforcement and prosecutors. But it was all lies. I was involved with spying, that much is true. That spying, however, was for our side.
“It seems I caused some disruptions in somebody's plans, and this was their way of thanking me. If you have a bit to sit and listen, I would like to tell you a story and then possibly make you an offer. Some of this may be hard to believe, and you can't tell anyone else about what I will tell you. Otherwise you’ll end up with the same lies being told about you. You might spend your life in prison for treason. If you would rather not know, I'll just tell you to take care of yourself and I'll be on my way.”
Davis took a moment to respond. “Well, only an ignorant man refuses to listen. There is an errant moon about a quarter light-year to starboard. It should be on your nav display. Let's park it there and we can discuss. If anything, I'm sure whatever it is you have to say will be entertaining, and you know how much we Messengers value entertainment.”
We were soon parked on the small, drifting moon. Davis left his ship to come aboard the Swift. “Wow, what did you have done to her? You must still be doing well for yourself. Check out the electronics and generators you have in here. I don't think I've seen anything like it.”
Davis grasped my right forearm just below the elbow as he pulled himself in to pat me on the right shoulder. “Tell me what you got going on here. I want in on it already!”
I filled Davis in on many of the pieces of the puzzle of my disappearance without giving away any vital information. New members of the team would have to be brought on slowly, as there was no turning back. If anyone were to leave, they would be taking the knowledge of our entire operation with them.
There were those who would pay substantial sums for that knowledge. Loyalty could often, but not always, be bought. I believed “not always” to be the case for Davis. He was hard-core when it came to his principles. He was also a loner, which made him an easy recruit.
“We are at war, my friend. It’ll be on us again soon. This time we might not make it out of the sector on time. Our politics are rife with corruption. Our military has become complacent with important leadership being replaced by political pawns. I know it sounds crazy, but I have taken it upon myself to work for the defense of the Grid. Even with all its corruption, it's still our only home.”
Davis asked a number of questions, some that I would not answer. I assured him that if he were to commit, he would know all there was to know. I needed team members, members who were willing to give it all, members who were patriots for the cause.
Davis stood and paced the hold for several minutes with his hand rubbing his chin. “You know, I just started seeing this girl, very sweet, and with legs that go all the way up to heaven—well, anyway, I hate to give that up, but I'm not fully invested in her yet. So, I guess what I'm trying to say is... I'm in!”
I stood, and Davis again came over and grasped my forearm.
I offered an initial game plan. “Go back to your ship and set the autopilot on it to return to the Grid. Have her broadcast instructions when she gets there to be put into storage. I'll have enough credits transferred to your account to keep her there. When all of this is over, if it's over, she will be waiting there for you to do with as you will. When you get back over here, we'll head out to get you started on your training.”
On the flight back, I let Davis fill me in on the stories from the Grid. Michael Felix continued to consolidate his hold on the Messenger Service, and he was keeping company with the politicians from Alpha sector now that his wealth was growing. He had no doubt that, within the year, Michael Felix would have complete control of the Service, setting schedules and doling out jobs to whomever he saw fit.
Davis reasoned there were probably a dozen old-school pilots who would happily join the cause, if just to be rid of Michael Felix. But there were only two that he felt would be trustworthy enough to converse with. I told him there would be time in the near future, but for now we would focus on getting him fully on board. Davis was to become our new pilot trainer as our team was to grow.
I spent a day back on Bullwort introducing Davis to the team. I could see a little jealousy developing with Gy as Davis talked it up with Rita. Gy’s irritated behavior soon passed once he determined there was no romantic interest. Davis and Rita were both talkers and there was much to talk about. The following morning I lifted off, once again in search of pilots for the cause.
Davis had mentioned that Niles Beager was in the pocket of Michael Felix. I was saddened by the news, but Niles was a survivor and was only going where the credits were. So I turned my attentions toward the transponders of Barg Hullis and Milly Barber on the recommendation of Davis, both excellent pilots and both on the outs with Michael Felix.
Milly Barber's transponder was the first to light up my console. Three days later we were landing on Bullwort and I was introducing her to the team. Barg joined us two weeks later. Our force of pilots was quickly taking shape.
Upon return with Barg, I requested the status of our operations.
Frig replied, “We will have a second load of ore ready for delivery in two days. George has a buyer lined up for our next three loads.”
I don't know why, but a sudden thought came over me, and I asked Frig to stop. I questioned who would be buying our ore. Would they be using it against us? Was it being resold to the Milgari? I asked Frig to build a passive probe into the next container. It would broadcast a micropulse of its location to us once a week. Unless it was being looked for, it would be extremely difficult to detect.
Frig continued, “The Fist is coming along nicely. George managed to acquire the best commercial-grade flight computers available, and the other mods are nearly complete. We expect it to be ready for first flight in another sixteen days. Davis is eager to take command.
“The Dagger is in need of a bit more work to bring it up to standard. I have an estimate of fifty-eight days from now until it is at the same level as the Fist. If you manage to find more ships, we can keep the pipeline full. It would allow us to make the most efficient use of our time.”
I asked, “Could we make our own Blevin Defenders? Make our own hulls?”
Frig shook his head. “Sir, the Blevin was one of the few ships to use high-magnetic welding during its construction. The equipment proved costly to maintain and was one of the reasons the design was shelved. There won’t be any more Blevins rolling off the line with the same level of hull integrity as the Swift. The aging of the weld joints has only made them stronger. That hull is one of the reasons we get bounced around in there so much, sir. There's no give.”
Two days later we were loading the refined ore onto the Swift for delivery. George had arranged for a drop onto a moon in the Frellis system. He had warned that the buyer seemed suspiciously paranoid during their dealings. If something was to go wrong, I would have the Swift at my disposal, but George, in his flier, would be putting himself in jeopardy.
Four days later I touched down on the moon and pushed the container out onto the surface. I moved back to orbit to wait for verification by the purchaser and the transfer of credits.
“George, the product is on the ground, awaiting verification.”
George replied, “I have the buyer coming in right now. You should see his hauler there shortly.”
Several minutes passed before the hauler set down on the moon. A lone individual exited the ship to check the contents of the container. I was expecting a pause as the go-ahead message was delivered. Instead, a winch line was run out and the container was quickly pulled into the cargo hold of the hauler.
“Ah,
George, tell me we received payment already. They're loading the container.”
George replied, “It's a scam! The buyer has been sitting here delaying payment with every excuse in the book. I say go put a stop to that... what the heck? Mayday, Swift! I'm on the run, coming your way! This guy just sent two missiles my way!”
George continued at full throttle, eventually outrunning the missiles. I raced toward his position, abandoning my watch over the Tantric ore. When the offending ship came up on my tactical screen, it turned quickly away from George. I slowed my speed and allowed the buyer to flee the scene.
When we returned to the moon, the hauler with the Tantric ore was gone.
“Just the reason you should always have a backup plan,” I said. “I'll be shadowing them as they go, to determine where they are heading. That probe we built into the container should keep them from getting away. When I find their destination, they will be paying a heavy price.”
George headed for Bullwort. I began my chase. I had the probe we planted set to ping once an hour for a day before reverting to a weekly burst. Before the first ping was verified, I had the thieves locked into my tactical display with a visual verification. I remained at a fifteen-minute distance with my signal inhibitor on. For two days I followed the two ships as they made their way to their home port. That port was the second moon of Marcon.
Both ships touched down and immediately began to unload the ore container. As I watched from a low orbit, a transfer truck appeared and collected the container. Five minutes later it was being loaded onto a ship at a different docking bay. A ship that belonged to Michael Felix! I pounded my fist on my flight console in rage.
I dared not make a move on Michael. He had a way of always having a backup plan, a shadow ship that would be covering his every move, perhaps. But I was no longer interested in the ore. My interests lay with the criminal who had stolen from us, not with the receiver of those stolen goods. The buyer that we made a deal with had been paid with credits that belonged to us.
I sat patiently watching the thief from above. Several hours passed before he boarded his ship and lifted off toward a new destination. I followed soon after. Once we moved beyond the sensors of Marcon, I pushed up the throttle and raced to confront the culprit.
A low-level negative ion pulse brought his engines to a stop.
I hailed him. “I believe you have something that belongs to me.”
There was silence for several seconds before his engine came back online. It was a move I’d anticipated, and I followed immediately with another negative pulse from my cannon. Again the thief's engine went silent.
“I'm giving you a fair warning. Either initiate a transfer of credits for the agreed-upon amount or I will permanently disable your ship. This is Rythium territory, and I am certain they would enjoy your company.”
I waited patiently for a response, but the thief remained silent. My next pulse was at full power and aimed to only singe his starboard wing.
“OK, I'm sure if you look at the power output of that last pulse, you will see that I can turn that bucket of yours into ash. This is your last chance. Enable a credit transfer for the amount agreed upon or I will disable your ship and come and take it from you. Dead or alive; makes no difference to me.”
The thief remained silent for several more seconds before an alert sounded on my credit store. The sum of fifty million credits was transferred in an instant. “Wise choice. Now, as a consolation, I'm going to take your systems offline. I'm launching a probe with a rescue beacon.
“If you're lucky, help will arrive before the Rythium. And as a final word of advice... you are too dumb to be in this business. If you make it out of here, you might think seriously about a new occupation.”
As I signed off, I blasted the thief's ship with a series of low-level negative pulses. Most of the electronics on board the ship were likely fried. He would indeed need luck on his side if he was to survive.
I pushed the throttle to full and headed for home. When I reached Bullwort space, I contacted George to let him know that all was well. With that one ore sale, the loans he had made to the cause were repaid in full. After a brief stay, I soon lifted off in search of pilots and hulls. There were other Blevins out there... and other pilots to fly them.