Flux Runners

by William Joseph Roberts

  “That’s right honey, get your tail back in line like the rest of us,” said an overly tall man in a worn, one size too small blue suit.

  Lizz watched with amusement. Camiel’s gaze locked onto the complainer who she quickly stepped to and stood toe to toe with. She brushed an annoying hair from her mouth and adjusted her black, horned rimmed glasses as she craned her neck upward to look into the man’s eyes.

  “Do we have a problem here mister? I need to get myself to work so that I can pay the bills and feed my kids and myself since my deadbeat of an ex-husband was worthless enough to stop paying his share of the bills and land himself in prison. You want to knock me for trying to push ahead and better myself and my situation while still remaining responsible for the fact that I need to hurry so that I can clock in and earn my paycheck?” She took a deep, nasally breath.

  The man waved his hands at her in defense. “No ma’am, I didn’t mean anything of the sort. I just meant…”

  “You meant that you didn’t have the balls to do the same, did you? Not a surprise. I know your type. Men like you are all the same.” Her glare burned a hole into the man’s soul.

  “Miss Lewis,” Lizz shouted. She flipped casually through the extensive resume.

  Camiel turned to Lizz with a smile. “Yes, Miss Trower?”

  “You filled out an application for general accounting. We are not in need of a general administrator. I am terribly sorry, but I can not accept your resume.”

  “Oh, okay.” Camiel drifted off in thought for a moment. “I could fill out another application for another position and get it to you by this evening at the earliest.”

  “How about instead of filling out an application, you go ahead and open up the office for me and let’s start processing these applicants.”

  “Wait, really?” Camiel gasped, “but what is the pay and position?”

  “I am in need of a ballsy, go get em kinda gal for the office manager’s position. Five hundred credits for today. We can negotiate your salary tomorrow. You interested?”

  “Absolutely!”

  “Then let’s get started.” Lizz handed the ring of keys to Camiel. “It looks as if we are going to have ourselves a long day ahead of us.”

  “Yes ma’am.” Camiel turned to face the line of applicants. “You heard Miss Trower. We’re going to move this line along and get on with it. First person in line behind me and keep em rolling!”

  Earth / Atlanta Spaceport

  The Betty

  August 14th, 2176 / Morning EST

  “M

  ake sure that all of the current market info is up to date in the system. See what you can do about finding us a small storage facility nearby. Prices will never stay constant. We may have to packrat a load or two away Earthside until we can get a good price for it.” Doug strode up the Betty’s loading ramp.

  “Copy that, Cap,” Wes replied and continued into the ship.

  “How are we looking…” He stopped in mid-sentence; a look of constipated consternation knotted his face. “Just about done with loading, Cap,” Trae said. He ratcheted a cargo strap over a pallet of used microwaves. “We should be ready to leave by this evening. Maybe a little sooner if you or Wes give me a hand loading and tying everything down.”

  “Um… Why is there a pallet full of junk microwaves on my ship?”

  “Radaranges actually,” Trae replied. “These are industrial versions as powerful as some of the original ones developed after the Second World War.”

  “Alright, Radaranges,” Doug agreed. “But why is there a pallet of them on my ship?”

  “There, that should do.” Trae closed the ratchet and straightened, massaging his still-healing hand as he walked over to Doug. “Why are they on your ship you ask? Well you see, they are on your ship because I purchased them and loaded them onto your ship.”

  “Okay, but how and why did you purchase them and load them onto my ship?”

  “The how was easy. I agreed on a price, then let the vendor scan my credchip and boom, I purchased them. I didn’t want to leave them behind. They might have felt lonely and abandoned if I had.”

  Doug forced down a laugh, then composed himself. “You’re enjoying yourself, aren’t you?”

  “Yup.” Trae laughed.

  “Okay, so what’s really up with them?”

  “Parts, parts, and more parts. I can reuse the waveguides, capacitors and the magnetrons for a number of repairs. And these are a whole lot cheaper than trying to buy replacement parts for the ship.”

  “Fair enough then,” Doug said. “Did you find out anything about the alien alloy that we brought back?”

  “Actually, yes. And you aren’t going to believe it.” Trae said excitedly. “I took the samples to my buddy, Tim, at Lafarge Industries. He ran a full battery of materials testing and spectral analysis on them. It turns out that it’s an odd mix of silica, beryllium, and zinc. He said it presents itself with a lot of the same properties as a silica bronze, but the tensile strength of the material is triple that of steel and its weight is half that of titanium. It isn’t so much the base materials, but the process used to produce the material. So, he put me into contact with a Foundry up in Pennsylvania, who is highly interested in the material.”

  “Well of course they are,” Doug scoffed. “If they are the only ones with the material, then they can corner the market and dictate their prices.” He paused in thought. “We might have to sell it out to a number of foundries to keep them all honest. We can cross that issue later. I still have a few things to get done, so grab Wes and finish the loading. Once you’re done, we’ll rendezvous with the Veronica and take her cargo to Luna station.”

  “Planning to pay Sven a visit?”

  “It has been a while,” Doug thought. “And a little of the raw material might ease things over between us.”

  “You collapsed one of his mines,” Trae reminded him.

  “No! That’s not what I was talking about. And besides, he can’t hold me accountable for his shoddy construction methods.”

  “Then what were you talking about?”

  Doug smiled. “The less you know, the better.”

  cHAPTER 37

  Lunar Orbit

  The Betty

  August 14th, 2176 / Late Evening, (Betty Time)

  A weak warbled beep radiated from the helm control console. “Sounds like we’re in range of Luna.” Trae quickly reconnected a thick duct-taped tangle of wires and cables to the side of the main view screen. “Try the screen now, Wes.”

  The view screen hummed with static as it powered up and Earth's moon faded into view.

  “See, I told you we wouldn’t have to replace it,” Wes said.

  “Now if we can just keep Rachel from doing any percussive maintenance, we can make it last a while longer.” Trae hurried and took his position at the helm. “Luna station, Camden Control, this is the Betty. Spaceframe registration number MT00001242 CFT-82-0033-C. Point of origin, Atlanta, Georgia, American Commonwealth. Requesting permission to land.”

  “Hey,” Wes said to Trae. “Do you think we should call Doug?”

  “No, just let him sleep. We can handle landing and cargo transfer.”

  “Betty, this is Camden Control, we have you on visual,” a generic sounding, even-toned voice replied over the comm. “Transponder squawking clean. Welcome to Lunar air space. What can we help you with?”

  “We have a belly full of ore and some supply stuffs from Earthside. Looking to do some business, then get back out to the dark. Those rocks aren’t going to mine themselves.”

  “Copy that Betty,” the controller replied. “Anything fresh would be appreciated up here. Follow transponder frequency 27.2 Gigahertz to docking bay three. Your assigned access to the Lunar data net is Tango, Kilo 421.”

  “Copy that Camden Control. Tango, Kilo 421.” Trae switched off the comms and looked over to Wes,” You got it? Are we into their systems?”

  “Hold on,” Wes sighed. “They have some new fir
ewalls in place this time.” He tapped away at the touchscreen display. “Ha! There we go, we’re in.”

  “Sweet,” Trae said. “Make sure that all three of us have as high a security access as you can get us.”

  “One thing at a time,” Wes argued. “I’m already working on that, but it looks like to set us up with anything more than epsilon access clearance, we’ll need a three-part authentication code. I’m not sure we’ll be here long enough for my crack software to run that sort of encryption crack. Man, they’ve really changed up all of the security protocols in the last year. The last time we were here it wasn’t anything for me to hack into their systems.”

  “What does epsilon give us?” The view screen displayed the moon’s surface with a projected flight path in amber and their current flight path overlaid in green. Trae fired the ship’s maneuvering thrusters to adjust their flight path, aligning the overlays.

  “This would be so much easier if the different moon colonies used the same systems,” Wes groused.

  Trae chuckled. “What would be the fun in that? At least this way things stay interesting.”

  “It would at least be convenient. Oh hey,” Wes said in surprise. He flicked his finger across his console and a new display window appeared on the main viewscreen. “How about epsilon alpha clearance? It’s for facilities maintenance access.”

  “Does that get us access to Director Garland’s office?”

  An orthographic view of the colony, from domed surface structures to the lowest levels slowly flashed up on the main view screen. “It’ll give us access to basically everything but main control and a few of their military facilities.”

  “That sounds perfect,” Trae said. “Garland may shoot us on sight when we waltz right into his office, but we can wing it and figure something out at that point. I’m sure that Doug would approve. Go ahead and flash our data chips with the clearance codes.”

  “Way ahead of you. I’m flashing the updates now.” Wes sucked in a suddenly surprised breath. “Oh my God! Dude! You are not going to believe what I just found.”

  Trae glanced over with a look of annoyance at Wes. “You found definitive proof of Bigfoot and the Loch Ness monster?”

  “Yes, wait, no… What the hell?” Wes glared at Trae.

  “What? You just make it way too easy sometimes. So what did you find?”

  A huffed whistle escaped from Wes’s nose. “Fine. I found the current municipal equipment inventory for Camden Station.”

  “Okay, so? I’m sure that Doug could use it to his advantage when he goes to talk with Garland, but that isn’t exactly as exciting as you might think it is.”

  “Oh, but it is.” Wes grinned. “This is the full inventory for Camden Station, from office computers to assigned vehicles. It just so happens to include a full inventory of everything in the Lunar orbital boneyard on the dark side of the Moon.”

  “Wait, what? Oh, that is just perfect. Maybe Doug will really be able to cash in on the favor that Garland owes him then. Firing retro thrusters in three, two, one.” Trae adjusted the glide path of the Betty as the retro thrusters engaged. Momentum suddenly shifted forward, forcing them to lean forward.

  “Put together a shortlist of interesting items in the boneyard. Drop ships, orbital foundry ships, or any mining vessels. Maybe even a few decent shuttles. The fewer repairs needed the better.”

  “Aye aye,” Wes agreed. “Doug is going to flip when he sees all of this.”

  cHAPTER 38

  Lunar Station Camden

  Over the moon Cafe

  August 15th, 2176 / Morning, (Betty Time)

  “S

  o, you got the appointment scheduled with Garland?” Doug took a seat at a table toward the rear of the coffee shop as he landed from a long bounce.

  “Yeah, scheduled and confirmed,” Wes said. “I also posted the job listings, pushed the ad video and posted the cargo onto the Camden data net.”

  “Ok, so how am I supposed to get into his office without being recognized?”

  “I used one of the lower level maintenance guys credentials and flashed your data chip. If they scan you, you’ll show up as one Sean Maggert. He’s the sector twenty-four maintenance shift lead who has waste processing issues that need immediate attention. You shouldn’t have a problem getting into the office.”

  “You know,” Trae interrupted, arriving at the table. “You’d think it would be a whole hell of a lot harder to get into the Colonial Regent’s office than this. It’s almost absurdly easy and convenient.” He pulled up a chair to the table and sat on it backward.

  “That may be, but I for one won’t look a gift horse in the mouth,” Doug said.

  “Here are your drinks, gentlemen.” The young barista sat a tray with four coffees down on the table. “Please enjoy your…” Her words were abruptly cut off by the tinny sound of tiny cymbals accompanied by the slow beat of a flat drum. “Oh my God.” The barista sighed and rolled her eyes upward. She glared back over her shoulder toward the main entrance. Those around the table followed her gaze to a group of disheveled individuals dressed in brown, burlap-like robes at the entrance of the establishment. “Weren’t you guys saying something about hiring new crew when you placed your order at the counter?”

  “We were.” Doug smiled back at the short, young woman. Her mousy brown hair created an odd halo around her head in the low lunar gravity. “But I’ll leave you to these two. I have a very important meeting to attend to.”

  The young woman slid into the seat as Doug stood to leave. She extended her hand to shake. “Hi. My name is Rebecca. Where do I sign up,” she said with an anxious smile.

  Doug picked up two of the coffees and slowly bounced away. “Don’t you guys have too much fun while I’m gone.”

  “Have fun yourself, Boss,” Trae said with a nod, then turned his attention to the young woman. Cautiously, he took her hand and shook. “Don’t you want to hear what we’re offering before you jump in headfirst?”

  “Honestly no,” she said matter of factly. “I don’t care what the job is or how much the pay is, as long as I can get off of this rock and away from those freaky coffee cultists.” She leaned her head in the direction of the entrance.

  “Um...Okay,” Wes stammered. “So, what sort of skills do you have? We have everything from cook’s helper to engineer available.”

  “Oh, you have cook’s helper available. I can do that.” She smiled wide. “So can my sister. Then there’s my husband and my sister’s husband. They both do some mechanicing every now and then. So, sign us up.”

  “Wait, whoa, hold up now,” Trae said. “You can’t just sign up three other people onto the rosters. We’re conducting interviews to weed out the undesirables.”

  Rebecca leaned up on her elbows. “Actually, yes I can. You see, once upon a time my husband took it upon himself to sign the four of us up for the Lunar colonies. He thought that he could come up here and make a fortune with barbeque. It would have been a great idea, but nothing tastes right on the moon. Something about the low gravity and how your body chemistry changes. I’m so freaking tired of it. I’m tired of this freaking place. I’m tired of those freaky Java Crucians that come in here every single day. I don’t want to go back to Earth. There isn’t anything back there for us, so you’re the next best option. Sign us up.” She tapped a finger firmly on the table.

  Trae and Wes glanced to one another, unsure of how to proceed.

  “Okay...sure,” Wes said and placed a datapad onto the table.

  “You’ll need to get the others in here in the next few hours so that they can sign for themselves,” Trae added. “What I can do is tentatively add them to the roster to hold their places.”

  “Good enough for me, so where do I sign?”

  Wes slid the datapad over to her. “Please enter all of your information and you’ll be good to go.”

  cHAPTER 39

  Lunar Station Camden

  Regent’s office

  August 15th, 2176 / Morni
ng, (Betty Time)

  D oug shoved open the hatchway to the Camden station Regent’s office hard enough that it bounced against the wall, swinging closed behind him as he stepped through the doorway.

  “Holy shit!” Lunar Regent Garland McDonald fell backward in an odd slow motion out of his seat behind a large, ordinary-looking metal desk.

  “You don’t mind if I come in, do you Gar?” Doug bounced over and sat one of the coffees down on the desk, then took a seat. He took a long, satisfying sip from his cup. “It just so happened that we were in the neighborhood on business and I thought to myself; hey, it’s been forever since I saw my old buddy Garland. Maybe I should be courteous and pay him a visit while in port. So here I am.” Doug motioned with open arms.

  “You must either have a death wish or you have some seriously big steel balls to just walk in here like this.” Garland sat his seat upright and straightened his uniform jacket. He glanced down suspiciously at the coffee cup in front of him.

  “It isn’t spiked if that’s what you were thinking.” Doug laughed, took a sip from Garland’s cup, then place it back onto the desk. “See? You act like you don’t trust me or something. Would I be stupid enough to spike it and then take a sip myself?”

  “Possibly. It depends on if,” Garland paused, then leaned forward and whispered, “if him is with you.”

  Doug flashed Garland a questioning look. “Him?”

  “Yes him. That tubbo of chaos that you call a sidekick. I wouldn’t put it past that cronie of yours to be just outside the door ready to break through at the mention of a code word.” Garland visibly braced himself for the door to be kicked open.

  “I wouldn’t do that to you after what happened the last time we were in port.” Doug leaned back in the uncomfortable metal chair and propped his feet up on the corner of the desk.