by T. R. Harris
Sharp let out a deep breath. “It’s against my better judgement, but your people are being taken down to it as we speak. Who knows, you may be right.”
“Down?”
Sharp snickered. “Relax, Captain. You knew it had to be in a secure location. And although I love you like a son, I trust you about as far as I can throw you, which ain’t far at my advanced age.”
“You could if you were on Ansid-4. Hell, you’d be a superman there.”
Sharp leaned over a little closer. “Ansid-4? I’ve never heard of it. Tell me more….”
An elevator took Arieel, Coop, Kaylor and Jym down five floors to where the Najmah Fayd—soon to be rechristened the Defiant—was stored. It was at the base of a large aircraft lift which was currently cut off from the surface by three successive blast doors. It had been moved here once the basic structural repairs were made, after the brutal beating the ship took from the trailing remains of the planet Nuor as the team returned from the Andromeda Galaxy.
They were accompanied by three Air Force MP’s and two scientists, both of which looked angry and impatient. They’d spent eighteen months working on the power system of the TD ship, and now these newcomers thought they could spend a few minutes in the ship and solve the problem they couldn’t.
The guards, on the other hand, had other things on their mind.
Arieel Bol, the Speaker of the Formilian People, was well known across the galaxy. Although most of the females on her planet could put her to shame, she was the one with the most exposure off planet. In fact, it was a pretty good bet that at least one of these young men had posters or videos of the alien sexpot in their lockers or barracks.
But it was exposure that had their attention now.
Arieel was dressed—using the term loosely—in a metallic silver outfit, comprised of a form-fitting pair of short-shorts and two pair of three-inch wide straps climbing up the front of her voluptuous body and attached to a choker around her neck. To the disappointment of the airmen, two of the straps conveniently covered her nipples—which were currently in the process of protesting the cool forced-air found on the lower floor. She and Sherri had made the outfit out of thin blanket of thermal material found in the Nautilus’ sickbay. They didn’t use more than one blanket to make the entire garment, and with material left over.
The senior guard ordered one of them to stay at the elevator while the rest of them moved down a corridor and into a large open bay where the Najmah Fayd was found. They entered through the forward hatch and moved along the spine passageway to the aft engine area.
All four members of the team knew the ship intimately and didn’t need guidance. They stopped along the passageway and Kaylor slid open a side panel in the wall, exposing a complex maze of computers and modules joined together by thick wire connectors.
“What do you think?” Kaylor asked Coop and Jym. They studied the interior with furrowed brows before nodding.
“I see,” said Jym.
“As we thought,” Coop confirmed.
“What?” asked one of the scientists.
“The lateral compensator diaphragm is misaligned.”
The two scientists buried their chins in their chests.
“That’s gibberish. It makes no sense.”
“Then perhaps the translation was not accurate,” Kaylor growled. “Let us look at the generators. I am sure it will make sense after we have a look.”
The entourage moved aft and entered the starboard engine compartment.
“Where are your McClaren connectors?” Coop asked. “They used to run from here—” he pointed to the base of the gravity generator, “—to here,” against the bulkhead.
“McClaren connectors? There’s no such thing as McClaren connectors!”
“And that is why they have not been able to solve the energy problem….” Jym said to his friends. He threw up his hands. “Well…there is nothing we can do here. It is hopeless.”
“I agree,” said Kaylor.
“Let’s get back to the ship; I’m hungry,” Coop remarked.
“Oh well, we tried.” Arieel bounced around until she found the exit and led the parade from the room. The scientists remained for a moment, stunned by the abrupt turnabout of events…and their apparent ignorance. They were the last to leave the ship.
Just as Coop pressed the up button on the elevator, Arieel squealed softly, threw her head back and passed out. Kaylor blocked the now-open door while Coop fell to his knees, separating the thin silver straps covering Arieel’s breasts and began to press down on them, performing CPR.
All the Human men stared—including the stuffy scientists—their mouths agape. Coop looked at the guard by the elevator door. “Hurry, man, start mouth-to-mouth! The gravity here is too much for her. She’ll die if we don’t get her heart pumping again.”
The airman jumped into action without a moment’s hesitation.
Kaylor moaned and fell against the elevator wall.
Coop looked up at another stunned guard. He reached out and took the man by the arm, placing his hand on top of Arieel’s very ample and firm left breast. “Here, take over. I have to get these other aliens back to the ship. Someone call an ambulance for the Formilian. Hurry…they could all die!”
Copernicus jumped to his feet and entered the elevator car. As he did, he turned sideways and activated a small vial of compressed air in his pocket, causing a life-size balloon resembling Jym to inflate on his right side. Immediately, a high-pitched squeal sang out from inside the elevator.
Coop took the inflatable doll by the head, just as the guard with his hands firmly on Arieel’s breasts turned to look.
“He does this when he gets excited. Keep pumping; she could die if you stop.”
The guard followed orders, while Coop leaned across the doorway and pressed the close-door button.
None of the guards or scientists had the wherewithal to notice the real Jym slip out of the elevator and scurry down the corridor….
22
Sherri and Riyad scampered across the dark tarmac toward the end of a series of large, round-top hangars, their ATDs tracking any surveillance cameras in the area. There were a few, but the long arcs they had to cover gave the pair time to slip into the shadows, away from the solitary light above the entry door.
It was Riyad’s job to gain entry, having spent a couple of months aboard the Nautilus honing his skills at circumventing security devices. He’d experienced the electronic locks before, when he and Adam stole the first prototype starship a few years ago. Now he traced the circuits until he found a storage file with the code. He sent the signal to the door.
Hearing the faint click, the pair ran from the shadows and to the doorway before quickly slipping inside. It was dark inside the windowless hangar; Sherri created a small static electricity ball to light the interior.
Bingo. As suspected, the hangar held a shiny new version of the Najmah Fayd—the TD starship. There was a good chance each of the other two hangars at this end of the T&D grounds held one as well.
Sherri ran to a squat aircraft tractor along the western wall and disconnected the charging cables. Her ADT reported a full charge with plenty of juice for what they needed the tractor to do. She took control of the machine with her mind and then hurried off to meet Riyad in the pilothouse of the ship.
The prototype was not much more than a shell of a starship. Although it did have a functioning gravity drive, it lacked a battery pack to start the generators or a transfer module to turn it into a dimension-jumping supership. That would come once the scientists solved the power problem.
Sherri maneuvered the tractor under the front of the ship, where it slipped into a hitch located below the focusing ring compartment. The ship rocked slightly as the units meshed and locked together. The starship didn’t have wheels, but rather skids; however, since the ship had to be moved to various locations during its outfit, the skids were up on wheeled carts. Riyad mentally activated the controls for the large hangar door direct
ly in front of the ship, and once clear, Sherri used the tractor to pull the ship from its home.
The doorway faced away from the main complex of buildings, and the security camera only scanned the front of the hangars and not around the back, allowing Sherri to pull it into the dark shadows at the back of the building. The team had checked the phases of the moon before planning their mission. There was a crescent rising later in the evening, but for now it was still below the horizon. The thieves managed to get the ship out and the door closed without being seen.
Sherri steered the tractor to the left, toward the security fence separating this part of the T&D grounds with the landing field to the east. It was a journey of five hundred yards.
When they got to the fence, the huge bulk of the rusted freighter rose up above them. The thing seemed a lot bigger as it sat on the ground, and a lot dirtier. Sherri thought it could really use a paint job.
The fence at this end of the landing field was crushed and broken—just as planned—and Sherri was able to drive the stolen starship up a wide loading ramp and into the open starboard side landing bay. Once inside, Riyad closed the huge door with the aid of his ATD.
We’re in, he reported.
Roger that, said Adam’s voice within his mind. I love it when a plan comes together.
23
Jym made it to the first intersection in the hallway without being spotted, the guards and scientists fully engrossed in helping Arieel recover. From his earlier visit, he knew there was a security camera at the end of hallway, just before entering the large underground hangar. He slid along the wall until he could see it.
Conjuring up a small static electricity ball, he moved the sparkling globe of light quickly in front of the lens, before racing to the end of the hallway and into the hangar. He dissolved the ball, its brief two-second life appearing as just a brief loss of signal in the security shack, and not worthy of further inquiry. The camera was working fine now.
Jym entered the Najmah Fayd and rushed to the hallway module compartment. He reached under the back of his jacket and removed an eighteen-inch long metal contraption made of articulated parts. He pulled it apart to form a small cart with four tiny wheels. There as a coil of twine attached to one end. He set it on the floor before turning his attention to the electronics compartment.
There was a black module facing him, with a small gauge panel at the upper left side, now dark. Securing brackets to the left and right held the module, with four levered arms locking it in place. Jym released the levers and removed the module. In Earth’s gravity, the black box was heavier than he expected. It fell through his hands and to the metal deck. A loud clank echoed throughout the starship.
Jym sucked in a deep breath and waited, listening for any signs of detection. After a few seconds, he got back to work.
He reached down and removed a one-inch diameter metal rod from the small cart. He placed it against the securing brackets on the right side of the gap where he’d removed the black box. It snapped magnetically into place. Next, Jym pulled on a small lip running the length of the rod and stretched out a thin, opaque membrane over the opening. The metal along the edge of the screen was magnetic as well and latched onto the brackets on the other side of the opening. Through his ATD, he activated the small control module in the rod and a stark, 3-D image of the black module appeared on the screen. It was a picture Jym had taken of the unit a few minutes ago with a hidden camera as he and the team examined the control compartment.
Next, he lifted the module onto the cart and tied it down with a series of cross straps. Then he took off up the corridor, pulling the cart behind him.
Jym was winded and dizzy by the time he reentered the hangar. Earth’s gravity was oppressive, even with the aid of the compensating drugs. He was reaching the end of their effectiveness…and he still had a long way to go.
He slipped under the front of the TD starship and walked rapidly to the far wall. He was beyond the ability to run—scurry, in his case—so a brisk walk would have to do. He looked up and found what he was looking for. It was an air vent set about ten feet up the metal wall—and about five feet out of his reach.
Spying a roll-away tool chest, Jym moved the red multi-drawer cart to below the vent. He climbed on top and reached for the screen. As he did, the cart rolled away, careening toward the Najmah Fayd, taking Jym with it. It slammed against the metal hull, sending another round of unwanted noise bouncing off the walls of the hangar.
Jym didn’t wait to find out if he was heard. Instead, he hopped off the cart and pushed it back against the wall, this time locking the wheels in place with the aid of built-in brakes. Panting heavily, he climbed back on top of the cart.
The vent cover was held closed by two winged levers along the bottom. He twisted them and lifted the cover away on hinges along the top. Jym’s people were tree climbers, so it wasn’t too difficult for him to make his way into the two-foot square metal duct. He sat up and began to pull on the cord attached to the cart holding the module.
This turned out to be the hardest part of his mission to date. In normal gravity, it wouldn’t have been too hard to lift the cart and unit, but Earth’s gravity was not normal. He strained and groaned lifting the load, saved only by the extra strength Fulquins carried in their arms, again a product of their tree-climbing ancestry.
When the cart was in the conduit, Jym lay on the cold metal for several moments catching his breath. But he knew his fatigue was from more than just exertion, and the longer he delayed, the heavier toll gravity would take on his body. He got to his hands and knees and began to move along the metal tunnel, towing the cart behind him.
He followed the guidance of his ATD to lead him toward the circulation system’s main control hub. This involved him climbing up vertical shafts and lugging the cart up after him. His heart was pounding and his fur soaked in sweat. Add to that the cold air sweeping over his body and he was a shivering, wet mess by the time he reached the control room.
He opened a vent screen and fell to the floor, the cart tumbling in after him. At this point, he didn’t care if the module was damaged or if anyone heard the crash of the cart; he truly believed he wasn’t going to live long enough for it to matter—at least to him.
After a moment’s rest be rolled onto his stomach and looked around the room. There had to be an intake vent bringing air in from the surface. He studied the layout of the machinery, until—there it was, on top of the main fan unit.
He figured he was only one level below the surface, having climbed four from the starship hangar. Just one more to go….
His mental cheerleading was enough to get him moving again. He climbed above the fan unit and opened a side vent on the vertical conduit. Air blasted out, nearly knocking him off his perch.
This is great, he thought. Now I will have to fight a strong inflowing current.
Or did he?
Jym accessed the control computer for the ventilation system and shut it down. Alarms may go off, but he didn’t care. He just needed to get to the surface.
Like before, he climbed the vertical shaft using pressure from both his hands and feet before coming to an opening at the end of sharp one hundred eighty-degree bend in the pipe. There was a thick metal grate across the opening.
Jym was at the point of no return. Either he was going to get through the grate or he would die here and now. Out of desperation, he brought forth a static electricity ball, placing it in direct contact with one of the bars of the grate. He tightened the ball until the light and heat were almost too much for him to bear. He didn’t care if the light could be seen from space. He just wanted the metal to melt.
Fortunately, the curve in the pipe kept the light confined to a small area of the cement below the grate, and when the bar broke, Jym created another ball on the bar next to it. Eight bars later, the grate fell away, along with Jym’s near comatose body.
This time it was a full five minutes before he moved again. The cool night air was cathartic, and he
managed to gather the strength to lift the cart holding the TD module up and out through the pipe.
But that was it; Jym wasn’t going any farther.
Adam…help.
I’m here, Jym. Are you okay?
No. I am at the point of collapse.
Where are you?
Outside a vent pipe.
I’m scanning the area with one of the ship’s cameras. I know your direction; give me a signal.
Jym’s was so exhausted even thinking came hard. Yet he was able to bring up one last energy ball, if only for a few seconds.
I see you. Locking onto your ATD. Hold on, I’ll get you out of there.
Adam had never tried to remotely create an air cushion before; he didn’t even know if he could. He was on the bridge of the Nautilus with Sherri and Riyad by his side. Copernicus and Kaylor were just now being dropped off outside by an obliging airman with a Jeep, and Arieel would be along anytime.
Closing his eyes so he could concentrate on the image within his mind, Adam focused on Jym’s ATD location, forming a circle five feet in diameter around the signal. He brought in ribbons of air along the surface of the concrete pad, and when he thought it was solid enough, began to move it upwards.
The module…it is beyond the radius! Jym called out in his mind.
That’s all right. I’ll come back for it after you’re safe.
Jym didn’t protest. Instead, his body was gently lifted into the air until he was high enough to clear the security fence. He was nearly a mile away, but soon Sherri and Kaylor greeted him at the portside landing bay with a life-saving dose of the gravity drug.
In his mind, Adam traced the path back to the vent pipe. The problem: he didn’t know where the TD module was. It gave out no energy signal and the camera aboard the Nautilus couldn’t define the image, not at that distance and at night.
So, Adam formed an air cushion twenty feet in diameter this time. He felt a break in the cushion’s integrity as it swirled around the thick metal pipe set in concrete. But once it climbed high enough to leave the pipe behind, the cushion formed up more evenly.