Flux Runners

by William Joseph Roberts

Danny looked up at the camera as he leaned against the console. “What's up, Cap? You like our Frankenstein monster so far?”

  “So far, yes,” Doug said. “What you've managed to accomplish the last few weeks is an impressive feat.”

  “She's nowhere near complete, but we have nine of the twelve reactors back online,” Danny said as he untucked his shirt and wiped dirty sweat from his face. “It was going to be such a pain in the ass to add struts and cut into the superstructures that we just said fuck it and welded the sections straight to the outer hull. Then we went back over it all with the extra bits and reinforced the design from the outside with an additional superstructure. So you now have the four Red engineering sections and eight of the twelve Red's reactors online and powering those systems. We still need to eventually cross tie the EPS system between those sections, but for now, we just worried about wiring up the controls and getting that routed to the Ethel's Command Information Center. This ship is so freaking big that it warranted a military-style CIC command center over a standard bridge. We managed to salvage the engineering section of the Cat carrier also and connected it to the ass end of the Ethel. Our old girl has a big ol' butt now,” he smiled, cheesily. “That Cat-carrier reactor is still operational, and it looks like it'll easily be compatible with our power systems without too much problem. But there again, we just worried about the control systems to make the connections. The forward superstructure of the Cat-carrier was good for scrap and that's about it, so we'll end up stripping parts and wires from her as we need to down the road.”

  “So you have nine reactors online and powering this beast,” Doug said. He shook his head in disbelief.

  “Oh no.” Danny giggled and grinned proudly. “We have fifteen reactors total running onboard our prom night dumpster queen.” He lovingly stroked the nearby bulkhead.

  “Holy shit,” Wes blurted, then snorted a laugh.

  “Maybe you two should get a room,” Rachel said as she went over the helm console readouts.

  “That is impressive, Danny,” Doug said. “Will we be able to use all of that power?”

  “Once we have all of the systems cross-connected, we’ll be able to shut down reactors or turn them down to an idle state unless the power is needed,” Danny said. “We could also install battery banks and extra capacitors just because, but I think we’ll be alright without them. She’ll use the most amount of power once we fire up the induction furnaces, we’re running material through her foundry. Hell, I’d be willing to bet that we could run the furnaces and all of the rest of the foundry gear plus push her to full speed while actively firing everything that we have. The biggest problem short term will be wiring it all up to be controlled from the CIC so we won’t have to dedicate a body to each of these engineering spaces.”

  “Now what about her defensive systems?” Doug looked down at a datapad. “Are any of the railgun batteries still operational?”

  “None of us have really dug into them yet. We’ve been too busy with the structural bits. It looks like maybe over half of them were cannibalized for this or that over the years and a number of the turrets are just flat out missing,” Danny said. “Once we get these other items knocked out, we’ll be able to concentrate on offensive and defensive systems. My primary goal is to plug all the holes and get the primary systems functioning again so we can start running the ore processors. Once we have all of that taken care of then we can produce any structural members or plating that we want or need.”

  “Cap,” Wes interrupted. “I'm picking up a distress beacon and flux point Beta just opened.” He flipped through readouts that he displayed on the massive main view screen, pushing the video feed from engineering to the side.

  Static erupted from the CIC speakers. “Mayday, mayday, mayday,” Willy shouted through the interference. “Possible threat inbound...aliens...I repeat…” The signal went silent.

  “Open up all channels, Wes,” Doug ordered.

  “Attention all hands, battle stations,” Doug said. “Attention all ships in the system. Possible threat imminent. All ships airborne and all weapons hot! Tiff, fire up the defensive grid.”

  “Calls coming in from the other ships, Cap,” Wes announced. “Everyone has checked in, though the Days of Ore is heading back to the hole since she doesn’t have any weapons.”

  “That’s fine,” Doug said. “Tell her captain to get with Lizz when they get parked.”

  “Tiff also reports the defensive grid is online and ready to go,” Wes added.

  “Cheezy, get us out to the Veronica,” Doug ordered.

  Rachel turned in her seat and gave Doug a look of abject idiocy. “Are you sure that’s a good idea Cap? I mean, one, is Ethel ready. Two, is she going to fall apart around us…” she continued.

  Doug tapped the internal comms control on the arm of his chair then looked back up to the video feed from engineering. “Danny, let’s give this old girl a little shakedown run. Do you think that she’d hold up?”

  “Um…,” Danny said as he stood upright at the station and crossed his arms, head bowed in contemplation.

  “Well now, that doesn’t fill me with any warm happy feelings,” Wes said.

  “Just hold on,” Danny said. “I’m still thinking. There’s a whole lot of ship here and a lot of mismatched parts to consider. Remember, we’ve managed to pull off the greatest intergalactic redneck engineering feat known to man with duct tape and bailing wire. So just give me a minute to think.”

  “I think I’d like to go home now, Cap,” Wes said over his shoulder toward Doug.

  “Shut it, wussy boy,” Rachel growled. “We’re all in and you know it. You can’t back out now,” she said with a cackle.

  “Hey Danny,” Doug said. “Is the Chief down there with you?”

  “Yeah, man,” Danny said. “He’s crawled back down the maintenance shaft for reactor one’s injector manifold. He wanted to double-check the torque spec on the hardware before we fired her up.”

  “Then we don’t have time to wait,” Doug said. “Your call, Danny. We need to get out to the flux point and pick up the Veronica. Can the Ethel make it or do we wait for the Betty to get airborne?”

  Danny loudly sucked on his teeth as he nodded his head in slow contemplation. “I think we’ll be alright, Cap.” He looked up at the camera. “As long as you don’t try to pull any acrobatics with her, she should hold together. Keep her slow and steady and it should all be fine. No more than a quarter thrust for now.”

  “Lay in a course, Cheezy. Let’s bring our people home,” Doug ordered.

  Rachel powered up each of the Ethel’s newly acquired drive sections. The hulking junkyard monstrosity creaked and groaned under the strain of her mismatched propulsion systems as they pushed her mass out of the planet’s gravity well.

  The crew rushed about, preparing for retrieval of the Veronica and their stranded family members. Hours later, the massive superstructure of the Ethel loomed over the drifting, lifeless form of the Veronica. Grapplers meant to manipulate large asteroidal chunks or salvaged debris extended from the Ethel’s lower hull and captured the small Martian frigate.

  “She’s in and the docking bay doors are secured, Cap,” Wes reported.

  “Did you copy that, Danny?” Doug looked up at the video feed of the docking bay.

  “I copy,” Danny said. “We’re just waiting on the pumps to finish pressurizing the jetway and we’ll be able to get inside.”

  “Copy that, Danny,” Doug said. “Rachel, get us back within range of the defensive grid.”

  “Cap,” Wes said in a worrisome tone. “A new contact just appeared out of nowhere. It has a similar power signature to the Cat-carrier when it flew in on its warp drive. The contact is upspin and outward of our position but moving fast and heading straight for us.”

  “Danny, Chief, anybody in engineering. Give me everything we’ve got to the engines and weapons.” Doug leapt to his feet, frantically staring at the two dozen empty duty stations scattered about the CI
C. “Where the hell is the weapons control?”

  Wes pointed to his right toward a raised platform area. “I think the main defensive controls might be up there.”

  Doug sprinted across the bridge and scaled the few steps leading to the platform in two long strides. “What the hell…,” he cursed under his breath. Panels and console covers lay scattered and piled about the small platform area. Two seats remained mounted to their pedestals in front of the dozen defensive stations. Bundles of wires fell out or dangled haphazardly from the disassembled consoles. “Are the comms still open to Danny?”

  “Yeah, go ahead, Cap,” Wes said.

  “Danny,” Doug yelled. “Is there any way that you guys can run the defenses from down in engineering? The consoles up here are busted up something fierce.”

  “Yeah, we should be able to. Just give me a minute to get this door opened,” Danny grunted.

  “Door opened?”

  “The Veronica’s docking hatch is either jammed or not getting power,” Danny said. “So, we’re opening her the old-fashioned way.” He screamed a grunt that was immediately followed by the sound of something heavy and metallic striking the deck plating. “With a crowbar.”

  “You sure are a sight for sore eyes,” came Willy’s voice over the intercom.

  “Well don’t fall at my feet or anything yet,” Danny laughed. “The shit is about to hit the fan.”

  “Willy,” Doug said excitedly. “Is everyone from the Veronica alright?”

  “We’ve got some minor scrapes and bruises, but otherwise everyone’s fit for duty. The Veronica on the other hand,” Willy sighed.

  “We lost communications and sensors hours ago, Cap,” Trae said over the intercom. “What’s the skinny?”

  “Let me guess, we just made it into a cheezy B-rate sci-fi flick didn’t we,” Fergus added. “There’s this alien hemorrhoid that came from nowhere and is now heading straight for us, threatening to wipe out all life as we know it?”

  “Yeah, that pretty well sums it up,” Doud said.

  “Enemy hemorrhoid ETA, five minutes,” Rachel added.

  “Hey hon,” Fergus shouted.

  “Hey butt munch. Have yourself a good vacation? You know some of us actually have to work for a living around here,” Rachel replied.

  “We’ll be right up, Cap,” Trae said.

  “Willy, can you give Danny a hand down in engineering and tell everyone else to get to their duty stations,” Doug said.

  “Can do, Cap.”

  “I have a visual on the hemorrhoid, Cap,” Wes said with a laugh. “She’s big and mean-looking.”

  “Put it up on the main screen.”

  The viewscreen suddenly flashed from the numerous readouts to show a heavily armored ship. It looked solidly built and compact. Weapons hardpoints bristled across its antique brass colored surface.

  “That thing looks pissed,” Rachel said.

  “I’m picking up multiple energy signatures,” Wes announced to no one in particular. “I don’t recognize the output, but my guess would be that they are charging weapons.”

  “Hail them,” Doug ordered.

  “Channel open, Cap.”

  “This is Captain Douglas Rackham of the Dragon’s Lair Colony…”

  “See,” Wes whispered to Rachel. “I told you it would sound cool.”

  “Please state your business,” Doug said boldly.

  The image of a large, bulbous headed rhino pig looking alien appeared on the main view screen. Its beady red eyes glowered down from the massive main view screen. The creature's mouth moved in time with an unholy ear-splitting squeal mixed with snorts and heavy guttural grunts.

  Wes turned in his seat to look at Doug. Worry painted his face. “I’ve got nothing, Cap. The translation software hasn’t even been installed in the Ethel yet, let alone updated for this thing’s language.”

  “I’m sorry, but we do not understand your language. Please, if you can understand me, power down your weapons and let’s discuss our options. Perhaps we may be able to learn enough of your language to negotiate the situation.” Doug calmly motioned with his hands as he spoke.

  Another painful squeal came across the CIC’s speakers.

  “Whoa! That looks like that big son of a bitch that was following us,” Fergus said as he entered the CIC. “Hey there Quasimoto.” He waived at the alien on the screen.

  “Sorry pal, she’s not available,” Trae said to the image on the screen. “Like Willy told you before, we are sorry for the shame that she has brought upon your son, but she is part of our crew and you can not have her! Cut the feed, Wes,” Trae ordered, then stopped and guiltily looked toward Doug.

  “Cut the feed, Wes,” Doug ordered. “What the hell was all of that about?”

  “Where’s weapons control on this barge,” Fergus asked, looking over the empty stations across the CIC.

  “Up there,” Wes pointed toward the raised platform.

  “We’ll have to fill you in on the juicy details later because we’ve got other, more pressing matters at hand,” Trae said as he rushed to the weapons control platform. “Those guys aren’t going to take no for an answer, so we’ve gotta get ready for a fight. As for Denise, let’s just say that she has been dutifully improving our relations with new and interesting species.”

  “Then see what you can do with the mess of scrap over there,” Doug said. “Open a channel, Wes.”

  “Go, Cap.”

  “All ships,” Doug firmly shouted, “draw them into range of the defensive grid and engage the enemy. Concentrate your firepower, but do not go toe to toe with these guys.”

  “Anyone got any duct tape handy,” Trae shouted down from the platform as he balanced one of the disconnected fire control panels on the railing surrounding the raised platform.

  “Are you kidding me,” Fergus chided. “What respecting engineer uses duct tape in the middle of a crisis? Here, use this,” he said as he pulled a small package from his pocket and tossed it toward Trae.

  Trae caught the offered object in his free hand with ease. “Bubble gum? In all of this godforsaken mess, you toss me a package of bubble gum?”

  “Yeah,” Fergus said matter-of-factly. “If it works, don’t fix it,” he said as continued to sort through the tangled mass of wires and connectors.

  Trae shook his head and began to nervously laugh.

  “Picking up a new energy reading from the alien ship,” Wes reported. “Wow, that’s some serious output.”

  “How much,” Trae asked, looking up from his disassembled panel.

  “I don’t know,” Wes said. “Our scale stops at gigajoule.”

  Trae gasped. “They have shields,” he whispered.

  “What?”

  “I said that they have shields,” Trae said loud enough for everyone to hear. “We never really had a chance to scan them. This whole time it’s been fight, run, fight, run. Which if they are capable of shields, that means what they were pounding us with must have been an energy weapon of some sort,” he said with wide-eyed amazement.

  “Oh my God,” Doug said, wiping his face in frustration.

  The ship jarred and rocked slightly underfoot as if from an almost imperceptible earthquake.

  “Hu,” Fergus huffed, “that feels a lot different.”

  “Well no shit Sherlock,” Trae replied. “The Ethel is only about twelve times larger than Veronica.”

  “Damage report,” Doug ordered.

  “Alien vessel came in hot from upspin and strafed the upper superstructure,” Wes reported. “I don’t think that they hit anything important. It doesn’t look like anything vital was affected, but it’s really hard to tell.”

  “What’s hard to tell,” Doug asked.

  “Yes,” Fergus cheered. He placed the now powered control console face back onto the console frame. “I’ve got you now you sumbitch!”

  Wes flicked the damage control window up onto the main view screen. Red blotches slowly pulsed across most of the Ethel’s mas
sive hull.

  “Holy cow, it didn’t seem like we were hit that hard,” Rachel added.

  “We weren’t,” Wes said. “The Ethel was already full of holes and missing parts of her hull plating. She just hasn’t been fully repaired yet.”

  Heavy thuds of recoil suddenly reverberated throughout the ship.

  “Whoo-hoo!” Fergus whooped. “That’s right you alien bastards! Get some!”

  “Mass drivers nine, fifteen and forty-two are on target,” Wes reported. “All others are skewed.”

  “Remind me to boresight all of the turrets after this is over with,” Trae said.

  “They’re coming around and are lining up for another attack run from downspin,” Wes yelled. “Hang on!”

  “There we go! Time for me to show you how it’s done, Ferg,” Trae barked. He placed the now illuminated face of a weapons control panel down on the activated console. “What’s the current count?”

  “Three hits in one barrage,” Fergus said.

  “Five it is then,” Trae said as he pressed the fire button.

  The deck of the Ethel’s CIC bucked beneath their feet as if the ship had driven over an intergalactic speed bump at an unnecessarily high of a rate of speed. Ozone scented hums reverberated as blue arcs surged forth from newly ruptured EPS conduits. Sparks showered down from overhead relay panels.

  “Port foundry compartments K, L and O have been hit, but I can’t tell how much damage that attack caused,” Wes reported.

  “Haha!” Fergus shouted. “That’s right! Run away, cowards!” Fergus fired the defensive turrets under his control at the enemy vessel as it shot away from the Ethel. “Four more hits! Hell yeah! Take that, sucker!” He danced a shuffling jig where he stood and flashed both of his middle fingers toward Trae.

  “Uh, huh,” Trae said dismissively. “I hope you’re watching this.” He flicked a display onto the main view screen. Twelve targeting reticles locked onto points across the alien vessel as it and its crew endured a high-g combat u-turn and came around for another strafing pass. “Behold a master at work with his craft,” Trae boasted and pressed the fire button.

  Purple ozone exploded from the control console and engulfed Trae in a blinding flash of light. His limp form soared in reverse and into the bulkhead by the force of the explosion.