Flux Runners

by William Joseph Roberts

  “That's what she said,” Denise cackled.

  “Okay now,” Janey said with a narrow-eyed glare back at Denise.

  Jenny nodded and stood, pulling down the top of her skirt to expose her right butt cheek. She clenched her eyes shut.

  Janey pressed the magnajet injector to Jenny's cheek and depressed the trigger. “One...two...three. That's it. If you don't want it, I won't force you. But I don't want to hear any complaints from anyone about being sick. You can just wait and see the witches when we get back if you want to refuse any of my treatments.”

  “If it isn’t an I.V. of coffee, you can piss off,” Denise said. “You ain’t sticking me with any needles, Doctor Jekyll.”

  Trae let out a frustrated breath and shook his head. “Quit being such a whiny bitch and just do it already.”

  “Hey! If I wanted lip from you, I'd...”

  “Shut up,” Big Willy bellowed. “All of you! Come hit me next. If someone doesn't want it, then just move on. If they catch something communicable, the cure is just an airlock away.”

  Andy held his hand up as he glanced between Willy and Janey.

  “What Andy?” Willy began to slowly grind his teeth.

  “Would this have any side effects if mixed with alcohol or anything? I mean, it's not like I've been drinking or anything yet, but if I were to have a beer or something later after I'm off duty ya know.”

  “You're kidding, right?” Trae laughed. “We're always on duty on this run.

  “It shouldn’t have any reaction that I can think of,” Janey said. “Is there a particular reason why you ask?” She continued around the bridge, inoculating each of the others.

  “Oh, ok,” Andy stammered. “Just curious is all. Forget I even asked about it.”

  Denise snickered. “So ya Irished up your coffee too, hu? Cheers mate.” She held up her coffee mug in salute, then took another sip.

  The grinding of enamel became louder as Big Willy grumbled under his breath.

  “Picking up a new signal coming from that Red,” Trae said. “She's changing course and speed.”

  “Transmission recorded,” Jenny squealed. “This is so freaking exciting.”

  “Couldn't have been a refuel. Cargo drop maybe,” Trae suggested.

  “Depends. That just seems awfully quick, though,” Fergus said.

  “They could have been picking up or dropping off passengers, maybe,” Andy added.

  “I wouldn’t think that there wasn’t enough time to transfer crew,” Trae said.

  “Shit, it's gone,” Fergus shouted.

  “What? Where did it go?” Big Willy leaned forward, sitting on the edge of the command chair.

  “Looks like they jumped,” Trae said. “One second they were there, the next, poof, they are gone.”

  “Dammit! How the hell are we supposed to catch up to them if they can just disappear in a split second?”

  “It wasn't just a split second,” Trae argued. “I picked up an energy build-up. They must use some sort of capacitors or something that they have to charge before jumping. I bet they used this system as a navigational waypoint. That makes the most sense. They didn’t drop anything or even stop. They appeared, cruised through the system then popped back out.”

  “That’s as good an explanation as any other’s we have right now,” Big Willy said.

  Jenny growled in frustration. “There isn't much more that I can do from out here. I have all of these transmissions being recorded and all, but until I can actually start speaking with someone and putting the syntax into place, it isn't going to do me much good. Is there any way that we can go check out the source of the transmissions? There seems to be one large and powerful transmission coming from the vicinity of the G type star with lots of other, less powerful transmissions from other sources. Maybe nearby ships? Until we can get closer that’s the best guess that I have.”

  “Well, that's part of why we came out here, isn't it?” Big Willy scratched at his stubbly chin as he contemplated their options.

  “Cap said that he wants to establish trade routes,” Trae reminded him. “If this is a station, that would be the perfect place to strike up some allies and potential business contacts. There is something out there, I just can't tell what it is from here.”

  “A station is a station, right? Fergus said. “I mean, how many times have we stopped in at a Martian or Venutian station where we don't always understand what they are saying, but we are still able to conduct business? Business is business, no matter what you speak. You just need to know the currency and its base value.”

  “Yeah, that's true.” Willy took in a deep breath and straightened in his seat, crossing his arms. “Alright, let's do it. Take us in, Andy. Lay in a course for the source of the transmissions.”

  “Copy that. Course laid in,” Andy said to no one in particular.

  “Take us in slow,” Willy said. “We don't want them to think that we're on an attack run or anything.”

  “Will do, Willy.”

  “Jenny, go ahead and hail them. Let's see if they feel like chatting.”

  Warning alarms erupted across the bridge.

  “We're being painted,” Fergus shouted over the noise.

  “It looks like a sensor or communications buoy,” Trae said. “Twenty thousand klicks off our starboard bow.”

  “Well shit,” Fergus said with a disappointed huff. “I was hoping for some action.”

  Trae turned and glared toward Fergus. “Seriously, man?”

  “Um...We're being hailed,” Jenny said in a surprised tone.

  “Open a channel,” Big Willy ordered.

  “Channel open.”

  “I am Commander William Murphy of the...” He motioned for Jenny to cut the feed.

  “We’re muted,” she said.

  “We aren't technically part of the Commonwealth anymore,” he said. “Who should I say that we're with?”

  “We aren't with anyone. We're setting up our own planet for Christ's sake,” Fergus said.

  “Just say that we're an independent starship,” Trae suggested. “That should be fine until Doug and Lizz decide on a designation.”

  “Open the channel back up.”

  Jenny nodded and Willy continued, “I am commander William Murphy of the Independent Star Ship, Veronica. We are new to this sector of space and you are the first people that we've come across.”

  “I'm getting a visual signal,” Jenny announced.

  “Put it up on the big screen,” Big Willy said, motioning at the screen.

  The image of a blue-tinted possum-like creature was suddenly staring back at the crew from the large view screen. A stream of unintelligible jowl slapping nonsense spewed from the creature's mouth. It's large, dark eyes intently looked over the bridge crew.

  “I am Commander William Murphy ...” The creature abruptly cut him off with a long, drawn-out hiss. It reached down to the side and began fiddling with something. Willy continued.” We're explorers and new to this region of...”

  The creature held up one clawed finger toward the screen as it spit out more blubbering gibberish. The creature's shoulders visibly slumped as it exhaled in what looked like frustration. Electronic beeps and bloops muddled the transmission as the creature continued to mess with something offscreen. It spoke again pointing toward Willy with one hand while motioning with its other hand as if a sock puppet were speaking.

  Trae coughed a laugh, desperately trying to catch his breath.

  “Um…,” Fergus said. “I think it just went stupid.”

  “No, I think it wants you to keep speaking,” Jenny said.

  “Possibly,” Trae said slowly.

  “Are you kidding? The critter is F'n wacko, man. Look at it, it's talking to itself,” Denise pointed at the viewscreen.

  “Can't we just be serious for a change,” Fergus demanded.

  Looks off blank confusion painted everyone’s face as they turned to look at Fergus.

  “What? These are the first aliens
that we've encountered outside of the Chinchasa,” Fergus said defensively. “How about we get down to business and make some allies out here? Once we have that step taken care of then we'll know who the bad guys are, and we can start nuking some alien scum.”

  “Ah, there he is,” Trae said. “There's the Ferg we all know and love. You had me going for a minute there, buddy.”

  “Ooo, ooo, ooo, I've got it,” Jenny shouted and quickly stumbled over her own feet, making her way to the center of the bridge. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and began. “Greetings from the people of earth… We cast this message into the cosmos ... Of the 200 billion stars in the Milky Way galaxy, some – perhaps many –”

  The creature excitedly flashed a wide snaggle-toothed smile and began to jabber. It sorted through a cluttered shelf behind its station then looked back at the screen and motioned for her to continue.

  Perplexed, Jenny continued. “Perhaps many have inhabited planets and space-faring civilizations. If one such civilization intercepts Voyager and can understand these recorded contents, here is our message”

  “Aaaaaa dra ta doo,” the creature excitedly slurred. It returned to its seat, holding a golden disk that it proudly held out for the crew to see. It waved at her to again continue as it tapped away at its console.

  “This is a present from a small, distant world, a token of our sounds, our science, our images, our music, our thoughts, and our feelings. We are attempting to survive our time so we may live into yours. We hope someday, having solved the problems we face, to join a community of galactic civilizations. This record represents our hope and our determination and our goodwill in a vast and awesome universe.

  Denise scoffed. “What the hell kinda crap poetry are you reciting to the thing?”

  “It isn't poetry,” Fergus said. “It was a speech recorded by Carl Sagan and placed on the first voyager probe.”

  Everyone turned once again to Fergus with looks of surprise.

  “What? I do know some stuff,” Fergus said.

  “That was impressive,” Amanda quietly added.

  Jenny blushed, color creeping up her neck. “Thank you. I memorized it after leaving Earth. Thought it might come in handy if an alien race had found the probe.”

  The creature waved wildly to get their attention.

  “What the hell,” Trae said.

  The creature pointed at the crew, then pointed at its own ears.

  Willy nodded in understanding. “Ok? You want us to listen,” he asked. “So, what are we listening for?”

  A recording of a man's voice suddenly played through the video feed, reciting the same speech that Jenny had just given. The creature held up the golden disk and excitedly pointed at it, nodding.

  “Oh great,” Denise huffed. “Now the thing wants to play fetch.”

  “How the hell,” Trae gasped. “There's no way that the voyager probe could have made it this far out. Earth lost contact with it during the hell years, but back then, a random piece of space junk was the least of mankind's worries. Most just assumed it was lost forever.”

  “It could have been stolen or salvaged,” Andy added.

  “Really,” Jenny huffed. “You want to accuse them of stealing a forgotten probe? Could you please be a little more courteous? We have no idea if it can understand us or not.”

  “Everyone just shut the fuck up!” Big Willy pounded his fists on the arms of the command chair. The bridge went eerily silent.

  “Shh,” the blue alien possum began to strangely hiss. “Shhh. Shuut. Shut daaa fooock up!” It shouted, then pounded its fists on the console and pressed a button. The alien leapt to its feet and began to dance as Johnny be Goode blared from somewhere in the background.

  “Um...,” Andy said. “What the hell just happened?”

  Trae rolled out of his seat as uncontrollable laughter overwhelmed him.

  “Great first contact their buddy,” Denise said. “You just managed to teach the fuzzy little Chupacabra how to say Fuck!”

  cHAPTER 52

  Gamma Draconis System / Anderson (Eltanin 2)

  The Dragon’s Lair / Mel’s Diner

  September 17th, 2176 / Late Evening (Dragon time)

  “C

  ap,” Rachel shouted as she wheeled herself through the entrance of the cantina. “Cap! You ain't gonna believe this shit!” The chair bounced as she gripped the wheels and skidded to a shaky halt.

  “Slow down, Cheezy!” Tiff and Kara jogged behind the crippled pilot. They both bent over, hands on their knees, trying to catch their breath.

  “Tough shit, catch up ya old hags.” Rachel spotted Doug looking up from the far end of the long rectangular room. She maneuvered the wheelchair around the makeshift cantina tables that Willy and Andy had made from the ancient shelving units that once stood in this space. She wheeled herself onward toward the larger table at the back. Doug, Danny, and Chris stood around the table, leaning over a set of blueprints that were spread out over the table.

  “What's up, Cheezy?” Doug glanced up briefly, then turned back to the drawings.

  “I think that the Chief is actually The Chief, Cap. John D. Thomas kinda Chief and not just any swinging dick or regular old average John Thomas either. Look!” She excitedly held up the leather flight jacket for him to see.

  “One sec, Cheezy,” he said, motioning with a single finger. “What about rerouting all of the power inputs to be backups of all of the others? Redundancy wouldn’t be a bad thing in this Frankenstein that you guys are building.”

  “Hell yeah, man. That shouldn't be a problem,” Danny boasted. “Especially if we just run splice cables as needed. There's no reason that we have to run conduit and tuck everything away just yet. We can run power from their cores and have a fully operational gun platform in a week, max. There's lots of good salvage on the Red hulks, all four of those reactors are still intact. The main drive engines on the cat cruiser are still in good shape, too. Same goes for their reactor.”

  Rachel laid the jacket onto the table without a word. Doug looked over, scowling at Rachel. “What? Just hang on for one more second. Let me get these guys back to work.” He brushed the jacket aside and went back to making a note on the large drawing. “So, if we go this route, you think you could pull it off in a week?”

  “And hell,” Chris interrupted. “Once we figure out how their versions of jump and warp drives work, we could possibly start duplicating those too. Wouldn't hurt to have a secondary method of interstellar propulsion if the flux drive goes out. Well, that's also assuming that you want to put a flux drive on all of the ships. It just depends on what we want to use as a basis. The more uniform the design that we come up with down the road the easier fabrication will be. Once we lock down a standard, we could produce multiples to our specs.” Chris straightened, stretching his back. “You just gotta tell me what you want and get me the people to make it happen.”

  “Perfect. Let's get to it, then.” Doug held his ribs as he straightened with a groan. “I'm sure that you guys can handle this without me micromanaging it. You know what I want, and I trust you to get the job done. Use your best judgment. Get with Lizz to get crew assigned to you as you need.”

  “Freaking sweet, man,” Chris cheered.

  “You got it, boss man.” Danny rolled up the drawings and mockingly saluted with the rolled tube. “If we just weld the space frames together instead of coming up with some mounting jig system, we could save tons of time,” he said to Chris as they left the table.

  Doug stretched with a groan, then turned back to Rachel. “Okay, sorry about that. What was it that you needed?”

  Rachel let out a frustrated huff. “Do you know any of the of the Betty’s history?”

  “No. Not really,” Doug said. “I didn't really think to ask when I bought her.” He stretched in the opposite direction. “Why? What does it matter?”

  Doug flinched as the jacket suddenly reappeared, brushing against his nose. “Okay,” he replied. “I still don't know what
you expect me to see. I've seen dozens of these jackets in spaceports, truck stops, and souvenir shops before.

  “I think I know who the Chief really is.” She threw the flight jacket back at him. Doug quickly snatched the jacket from the air, catching the weight of it with a painful grunt. He cradled his ribs and gave her one of his best fatherly glares. “I’m really not feeling up to one of your games right now, Cheezy. I just want to lie down, rest and take something for the pain.

  “She’s not lying cap,” Tiff said as she and Kara approached, standing behind Rachel.

  “What was it that you were saying about John Thomas?” Doug laid the jacket out on the table.

  “Just look at it and you tell me,” Rachel demanded.

  “Okay. It's a flight jacket,” Doug said with a shrug. “What's supposed to be so special about it?”

  “Freaking seriously, Cap? You're killing me. Look at the patches, the name tape, the fight pins. Look at the Commonwealth's flag patch, Cap,” Rachel pleaded. “The last ship that John Thomas was known to have served on, according to the history books was a Nova Star class transport, the Eagle. Service number UCSS 82-0033. What is the service number of the Betty,” she tersely asked.

  “I don't know right off the top of my head,” Doug said. “I've never had to worry about it before.” He glanced over the jacket with confusion. “How in the hell could our Chief be the John Thomas? He'd be well over one hundred years old by now.”

  “The hell if I know, Cap,” Rachel admitted. “Stranger things have happened before, I'm sure.”

  “He's got to be dead by now,” Doug said. “Hell, I've visited his grave. There are statues of him all around Atlanta. There is a museum dedicated to the John Thomas, in Smyrna that has his flight jacket, his cherished harmonica and the first martian rock that he brought back to Earth.”

  “So that's where that went to,” a hoarse voice whispered from the shadows behind the cantina’s serving line. “Those fucking bastards stole my...”

  Doug shushed Rachel and pushed her away so he could stand.

  “Oh shit,” the strange voice grumbled. A figured darted from behind the serving line, heading for the main entrance to Mel's diner. The figure tripped, falling flat to the ground among a pile of pots and pans.