AMP Messenger

by Stephen Arseneault

  Chapter 5

  _______________________

  After loading the parts necessary for our repairs aboard the Deveroe, we lifted off toward grid 1244. I had the same conversation with Michael Felix several times during the journey.

  “Mr. Grange, now that we're away from Grid space and Grid jurisdiction, I want to once again remind you of our agreement. Upon delivery of you and your engineer to the location of choice, you will deliver the technology for the drive to me. Any attempt at crossing me will be your last. Grid 1244 is a lonely place for a man with no ship.”

  I waved my hand and concurred with his statement each time it was brought up. He would have his precious drive adaptation when we reached our destination.

  I then added a warning of my own. “Despite what you think about my reputation, I do have friends on the Grid—friends who are not all too fond of you, Felix.”

  I continued, “I left instructions, and access to the credits needed to carry out those instructions, with a number of those friends. I can assure you that in the event of my not returning, those instructions will be carried out. And I can promise you this, whatever they do, it will be very damaging to your ability to function as you have on the Grid. Our little deal here is a two-way street.”

  Felix huffed and turned back to his piloting duties. “I hear your threats, Mr. Grange. They are of little consequence to me. I will honor the letter of the contract, as my word is my bond. If you weren't already aware, Mr. Grange, I would just as soon sell out my own mother before violating contract terms. It is one of the tenets I am governed by.”

  When we arrived at the far end of grid 1244, Felix began to get agitated. “Where is the ship, Mr. Grange? I have business to attend to back on the Grid. I don't have the time to be chasing about because you misplaced your vessel.”

  I pointed toward the ion wall. “It's just through there. We'll be sitting on it in about four hours.”

  Felix turned with an angry face. “You made no mention of going out there! That is uncharted space. I don't want to risk damage to the Deveroe in crossing through that ion bloodbath to get to your ship!”

  I took a small bit of pleasure as Felix squirmed in his pilot's chair. “Relax, Felix. It's just ions. You fly through them every day. True, it may be a bit more than usual, but it's all the same. I've been through there without incident.”

  Felix turned back and looked out the cockpit windshield toward the direction of the ion wall. “And yet your ship is not operational. I am not brimming with confidence, Mr. Grange. You should have spelled this out in the contract.”

  I smiled as I leaned forward in my chair. “Ah, Mr. Felix, I believe the contract terms state that you will deliver the cargo and personnel to the site which I would later specify. Perhaps you should have been better in your wording of hazardous obstacles that might have to be crossed. Now, I am sure you will agree that we have a firm contract. And I believe you just stated that you were in some sort of hurry to return to the Grid? Time is money, Mr. Felix.”

  Felix turned back with another scowl and then set the coordinates for the next leg of the journey. Four hours later, I felt a sense of apprehension and a sense of relief as the small moon where the Swift had been left came into view.

  As we moved in close to where the ship would have been, I stood from my chair. “No, no, no! This can't be happening!”

  The Swift was gone, along with the small downed pirate vessel.

  As we touched down, Felix turned toward me with his blaster in his hand. “I believe we had a deal, Mr. Grange. I believe this is an appropriate time to collect on my fee as stated in the terms.”

  The repair mission was a disaster. I had given up the one bargaining chip I had to get to the small moon. I reached into my jacket and retrieved the document Felix had bargained for.

  “You kept your end of the bargain, Felix. Here's your prize.”

  As I stretched out my hand, Felix snatched away the document and immediately scanned it into his ship's computer. After several minutes of bickering with his engineer, he again turned in our direction with his blaster in his hand.

  “You have fulfilled your end of the agreement, Mr. Grange, barring a full verification of this drive, of course. I have honored mine. If you would now please step over to the door at your left.”

  I looked toward the door. “That's a lifepod. What is it you have in mind here, Felix?”

  He smiled and took a step closer with the blaster slightly raised. “Our contract, Mr. Grange, was for your delivery to this moon. That contract has been honored. You should take it as a sign of my generosity that I am willing to provide you with the use of a lifepod. They are not inexpensive, you know. But I feel it is the ‘Human’ thing to do.”

  Felix continued to grin and then motioned with the blaster as the door to the lifepod opened. “Oh, and as also stated in the contract, I will be leaving you with your parts. Even though I feel they would be an even trade for the use of my lifepod, I am willing to overlook it at my own expense. This is turning out to be a wonderful day, Mr. Grange... simply wonderful.”

  As the door to the lifepod closed, Felix bellowed out his trademark laugh. The pod disconnected from the Deveroe and fell gently to the moon's surface. The radio on board crackled to life as the Deveroe began to pull away.

  “The pod is a little cramped for two, but it should keep you alive for a month, maybe a little longer if you are conservative with your finite resources. Enjoy your stay, Mr. Grange. Hahahahahaha...”

  As Felix laughed, the Deveroe disappeared over the horizon and the radio went silent.

  I leaned back in the chair and looked directly at Frig. “Well, Frig, this is another fine mess you've gotten us into. You should have seen this coming.”

  Frig responded with indignation. “Me! Sir... I believe it was you who organized and planned this event. If blame is to be placed, it belongs squarely on your shoulders.”

  I turned to the controls on the lifepod with a half grin. “Relax; I'm just pulling your chain. We should have planned for this, as we knew it was possible. The question now is, what can we do?”

  We looked over the manifest of spare parts we had at our disposal. Even with the proper tools in an operational repair bay back on the Grid, we lacked the parts required to cobble together anything that would give us propulsion. The lifepod was made to drift until such time as it was recovered. Drifting would get us nowhere.

  For four weeks we sat idle in the lifepod twiddling our thumbs. Our conservation efforts had extended our resource cache for an additional six days at most. The emergency beacon had been broadcasting our location nonstop, but we were beyond the ion wall. I had come to the conclusion that hope was a thing for fools and fairy tales. We were doomed to die, stranded in a place where no one could hear our pleas for help. Our breathing became shallow and our bodies weak.

  In my mind I was preparing the final goodbye speech I would give to my best friend. “My friend, we have been through some tough times, but I—”

  A crackle came over the radio. “Grid lifepod AN4479, this is 3011-C. Can I ask the name or names of those on board?”

  I pressed the talk button and said. “This is AN4479. I'm captain of the Swift, Don Grange, and I have my engineer here with me. That's a Human voice I'm hearing, and it sounds familiar!”

  The radio was silent for a moment. “Hang on for a few minutes while we tether you in, Mr. Grange. We can discuss pleasantries once you're aboard.”

  It was Cortes! Once again he had come to our rescue!

  The pod door opened and the fresh air rushed in. I took a deep breath. I stepped out onto the deck of the Ranger with my legs shaking.

  A corpsman grabbed my arm as I wobbled. “JC, once again you have plucked us from the jaws of death, man. Thanks, brother!”

  The sergeant stood in the hold doorway. “The admiral thought you might be paying this place another visit. He likes to cover all eventualities, and our people on the Grid were reporting that you had not co
me back. We will be in need your services in another month for another ore run.”

  Cortes continued, “Our intel made mention of a ship similar to yours being offered for salvage in grid 1253. The admiral has authorized me to offer assistance in whatever way I can, within reason, of course. It's up to you at this point, but if you want your ship, as I'm sure you do, we can make a run over to 1253 to see if that one is indeed yours.”

  I hesitated for several seconds before answering. “So... you are saying that you have been authorized to help me recover the Swift?”

  The sergeant nodded. “I have.”

  I replied, “Well, let's go get her then. That's the best news I have had in a month!”

  Frig took the opportunity to get in a dig. “Sir, I believe that is the only news you have had in a month. And Sergeant, we are thankful for your assistance.”

  The orders were given, and the Ranger turned and sped toward grid 1253. It was a day-long journey, but a day in a real ship with plumbing, food, and all the other necessities of life. Our search for the Swift had begun.

  After a long shower and much-needed shave, I joined the sergeant in the chow room for my first full meal in nearly two weeks. The Ranger had a cook assigned. The sergeant swore by his culinary skills, and he was right. When our meal was complete, I was again filled in on the progress the admiral had made toward his fleet goals. Two new fast frigates had rolled off the line and were conducting their first space trials. As the ships were produced, the supplies of refined Tantric ore were beginning to run low, reinforcing the urgency of our recovering the Swift.

  We landed at an orbiting space dock above the mining colony planet Bolo. The atmosphere on Bolo was heavily acidic, with winds that commonly raged to 130 kilometers per hour. On the surface it was a hostile and unforgiving place. By comparison, the city mines below the surface had tame environments, but the miners were a rough bunch. Mining on Bolo was a hard, grueling life, full of species that were anything but friendly.

  Cortes led the way off the ship. “Mr. Grange, I would suggest you stay close and let my translator do the talking. They will recognize me as Grid military, and as such I will be given room and a bit of respect. I've dealt with the Nuez miners before and they can be quite difficult, as well as unpredictable. If you take a tough stance with the highest-ranking member in the room, the others will generally leave you alone. Just follow my lead and we will see what we can find out about the Swift.”

  From the orbiting space dock we hopped a shuttle down to the surface. Five other craft were waiting in the winds of Bolo for the bay doors of the mining city to open. Fifteen minutes later we touched down on the deck. The giant bay doors closed above us. When sealed, and the air in the room filtered, the shuttle pilot released the hatch and stairs.

  I stepped down onto the deck with my legs still a bit wobbly. The gravity on Bolo was 0.92 that of the station, but much higher than the small moon we had been trapped on for the prior month. We followed the sergeant through a large set of doors and into a crowded hallway of merchants and bars.

  The hallway bustled with activity. The mines worked around the clock, with shifts being long and frequent. New miners worked the equivalent of sixteen-hour days until a supervisor decided they were deserving of a badge. Getting a badge was everything, as it came with reduced hours, increased pay, and shaft selection. The deep shafts were the worst; the natural heat from the planet made them extremely uncomfortable. Once a badge was earned, a miner's life became incrementally better. It was rare to see a new miner in the shops near the surface. Their off time was spent recovering from their day's toils.

  The hallway activity was a mixture of travelers, badged veteran miners, merchants, and prostitutes. The latter were aggressive when it came to new faces on Bolo.

  “Hey, Human, what do you think of these?”

  The display of six breasts on a Debron hooker was anything but appealing to a Human. The cackling laugh that came with them would drive any normal man mad. Cortes leaned in and whispered something to her. She immediately turned and left the hallway.

  The sixth alcove down the hall to the left held a salvage shop. According to Cortes, the owner would likely have connections to anyone and everyone in the salvage business on Bolo. We stopped in for a chat.

  Cortes said to the Nuez proprietor, “Mrs. Challen, I understand you are well connected on this planet and have knowledge of the parts and materials that can be obtained?”

  The old woman's eyes squinted as she looked at the sergeant. “You are Human. Don't get a lot of Humans in here, must be in need of something pretty bad, or... you are looking for someone.”

  The sergeant responded, “We are in need of a ship, and not just any ship, a particular ship. It's an old Grid Blevin-class Defender with the markings of 5509 on it. Information leading to her recovery could be looked upon favorably by the Grid. And of course, there is a healthy recovery fee.”

  The old Nuez looked at him suspiciously. “Suppose I have heard of a vessel fitting that description... tell me more about this fee.”

  Cortes continued, “The fee will be determined by the completeness of the information given and is payable when the ship is in our hands. If the information leads to another individual for more information, the fee will be divided proportionately. If you choose to offer information or a name, then all else that is required is a deposit store where your portion of the fee can be securely placed for your benefit.”

  The old woman waddled over to the door of the shop, closing and locking it. “Follow me. I don't have the info you seek, but I might know who does.”

  We followed the old Nuez woman for several kilometers, passing numerous businesses, repair docks, warehouses and the myriad of bars and eateries that came with all three. We arrived shortly thereafter at a second landing dock. This one was larger and rigged for the handling and delivery of heavy machinery and supplies. It was adjacent to a third topside landing dock, where the giant ore haulers were loaded. The old woman led us to a dock supervisor.

  She said, “Bizzo, these gentlemen are looking for something. You can decide whether or not you know anything about it. It might be worth your while to discuss it.”

  With that, the old woman turned to waddle back toward her shop.

  Cortes said, “Mrs. Challen... your store?”

  She stopped and smacked herself on the forehead. “I'm getting too old for this game.”

  She held out her store. A pending credit transfer was added to her account. She again turned and began the journey back to her shop.

  Bizzo faced the sergeant with a smile. “You must be looking for something big for Huena to walk all the way out here. Perhaps an ion cannon from a salvaged Krell destroyer? Can be had for a good price. Or maybe a new environmental system?”

  “We are in search of a ship,” said the sergeant. “A Grid ship. Markings: 5509. Would you have any knowledge of her whereabouts?”

  Bizzo looked around suspiciously and then waved us around a corner, out of the sight of potentially prying eyes. “I've heard of her. Was picked up a few weeks ago. But she's property of a nasty pirate named Vlok. His guild, mostly family members, frequents the area around Omrin-7. My guess is you'll find the ship near there. I have a cousin, Bazzo. He's the barkeep at a place called Fwellos in Port Giamma. He is sometimes a broker for larger products, such as ships. If your vessel is in the area, and for sale, he will know.”

  With that, Bizzo held out his credit store. Cortes loaded it with a pending transfer. We walked toward the shuttle port where we had landed. As we moved along, the shopkeepers, bar owners, and kiosk peddlers quickly closed their doors or pushed away their carts. I turned to see four badged Nuez miners walking the hallway behind us. Four more then stepped out in front, blocking our way. The Nuez were a short, fireplug-like species with powerful backs, legs, and arms. Their dark gray, scaled skin and rotted but sharp teeth gave them a sinister look.

  As we stopped their leader approached. “You have come here asking qu
estions without having authority. Prying Humans are not welcome. The fine for a violation of our codes is five hundred credits. You will pay or you will not leave. And before you think of using that blaster, you should know that there are more of us than you see here.”

  Cortes slowly moved his hand away from his holster. “OK, we apologize if we have overstepped our bounds. No need for violence.”

  The Nuez leader took another step forward. “You pay now, five hundred credits. If you delay any further, the new fine will be six hundred credits.”

  Cortes shook his head in agreement. “OK, OK, we'll pay your fine. Show me your store and I will make the transfer. We don't want any trouble.”

  The Nuez leader again stepped closer. “You are wise to comply. Now, make the deposit and be on your way.”

  The leader held out his hand with his store.

  Cortes nodded and reached out his hand, suddenly grabbing the outstretched hand of the miner. “Can I get your name, so that I know who to contact on our next visit?”

  The leader looked at him suspiciously. “It's Domin. Ask for Domin and I will find you.”

  As the transfer began, Domin's face turned red with anger as he screamed out, “Your taking my—”

  Cortes had his blaster up in an instant. The Nuez leader's chest exploded as the blaster bolt expanded into it. The leader fell silently to the floor. The other miners turned and fled.

  Cortes calmly turned to me with a smile. “They really aren't very bright. If you take out their leader, they tend to panic and run.”

  He then looked down at his credit store. “Not bad, our friend Domin just made a 5,233-credit donation to the cause. He really should have had his outbound filter on. It's a simple setting.”

  He then replaced his blaster and gestured forward with his arm as the shops began to reopen. “Shall we continue? Omrin-7 is a two-day trip.”

  As we walked away, two of the assailants returned and began to drag their boss's body away. Whatever they could salvage from him was theirs to keep. Adherence to the law in the Bolo mines was at a minimum. If you could not defend yourself, you had no business being there. We returned to the shuttle without incident. Thirty minutes later we were boarding the Ranger. The trip to Omrin-7 was uneventful.