Flux Runners

by William Joseph Roberts

  “I’ve got Trae. Keep those guns firing,” Doug shouted as he sprinted for the gunnery platform.

  “Medic to the bridge,” Wes shouted into the comms. “I repeat, medic to the bridge!”

  “I’ve got you, brother.” Doug skidded to a halt at the top of the steps, reaching down to check Trae’s pulse. “Good, I’ve got a pulse! He’s still breathing.”

  “What about butt munch? He alright?” Rachel punched her console. “Dammit, this thing moves and steers like a dead pregnant whale!”

  “Don’t worry, you’re not rid of me yet, Hon,” Fergus said.

  “Hang on, enemy ship inbound for another pass,” Wes announced. “I have five new contacts approaching on long-range. IFF identifies them as the Betty, Aurora Tetra, Tsuro, Mauve Turtle and the Jabberwocky.”

  “Tell them to engage at will,’ Doug ordered.

  “Copy that, Cap.”

  Hydraulic motors whirred to life as the doors to the CIC opened with a sickly groan. “Who’s hurt?” Janey looked around as she entered the control center.

  “Over here,” Doug shouted.

  Janey sprinted across the CIC toward the platform steps. The ship careened sickeningly nose up rolling left with a violent shuddered. Alarms erupted throughout the command information center.

  “What in the hell was that?” Doug asked.

  “I’m not sure,” Wes said. “There’s too much showing up as damaged, already.”

  “I’ve lost Navigational sensors,” Rachel said.

  “Comms are down, too,” Wes added.

  “Bridge, this is engineering. Who the hell’s driving this train,” the Chief shouted over the intercoms. “We just lost the red section from the keel. Keep this up and they’ll chew us up in no time.”

  “Copy that, Chief,” Doug replied, moving out of Janey’s way. “I’m all ears if you have any bright ideas.”

  “You’re on your own bubba,” the Chief snorted. “That last hit really did a number on us. We have coolant leaks all over the place. We have to abandon engineering.”

  “Cap, we just lost the Mauve Turtle! The Betty, Jabberwocky and Aurora Tetra have been all been disabled,” Wes said. “Holy crap, Cap! The Tsuro is standing toe to toe with these guys!”

  “That’s it! My guns are gone!” Fergus kicked his console.

  “Get me something!” Doug hurriedly slid back into the command chair and pressed the comms button on the arm of the chair. “Everyone left on the ground, it’s not looking good up here. I don’t know how much longer we can hold them off.”

  “Cap,” Wes interrupted. “Comms are down.”

  “That’s right.” Doug sighed. “Is there any chance that anything got through?”

  “I really don’t know, Cap.”

  “Um...guys. I hate to tell you this, but at this rate, we’re screwed,” Rachel added. “There’s no way we’ll make it back to the defensive grid before these guys rip us apart. The Ethel is one slow, fat hog. There’s nothing sleek or fast about her.”

  The ship sickeningly slid starboard. The decking vibrated with an odd harmonic, then began to rattle the plating. Another gout of purple and blue arcs erupted from the rear of the CIC.

  “Cut power to that EPS distribution node,” Fergus shouted.

  “I can’t,” Wes replied. “Most of the power distribution grid software was bypassed. Those systems are running on a default factory diagnostic program that I installed since the original was corrupt.”

  Distant explosions rattled through the Ethel from deep within her superstructure. New warning alarms sounded from overhead.

  “We have a plasma fire on deck twelve and we’ve lost contact with two more of the added red engineering sections,” Wes reported.

  “She’s a dead stick,” Rachel announced. “I’ve got nothing up here, Cap.”

  “Cap...we’re abandoning…,” the intercom speakers crackled with static and distortion.

  Doug slumped down into the command chair. “Well, at least we made a good run of it for a bit.” He sighed as he watched the enemy vessel approach on the large main view screen.

  Fluorescent green Plasma erupted from the nose of the alien vessel as it fired once again on the helpless Ethel. It slowed to a stop, what looked to be a short distance away in the massive display.

  “Hu...they stopped firing,” Wes said. “I bet they are hailing us and ordering us to surrender.”

  “Suppose they’ll be boarding us next,” Fergus said matter-of-factly. He helped Trae to sit up and supported him where he sat on the upper platform.

  Five bright white flashes suddenly appeared on the screen in the darkness just beyond the alien vessel, replaced by five, very large and very ravenous looking Reds. Their grappling tentacles flailed out and their clamping maws opened wide. The alien vessel turned, zipping away off-screen before returning for a strafing run on the large alien mining vessels.

  The Reds maneuvered together in a tight formation, their tentacles connecting to form a net between them. As the enemy ship maneuvered past the group of Reds, one of the manipulation tentacles latched onto the underside of the enemy’s hull. It looked as if it were a fly struggling to escape a spiders web. It advanced, engines at full power, only to be pulled back into the fray by the numerous other tentacles that now attached to its hull. Slowly, the enemy vessel was directed to the front of the formation and entered the maw of one of the reds. They watched as the pack of alien mining vessels effortlessly devoured the alien warship.

  cHAPTER 60

  Anderson (Eltanin 2)

  The Hole / Mel’s Diner

  September 25th, 2176 / Evening (Dragon time)

  L eisurely stroked fiddle strings sang out in time with a rolling base beat and the whispered croon of a female voice as a song played from the cantina’s jukebox.

  “It’s about freaking time that my song kicked on,” Krista shouted from the far end of the cantina. She leapt to her feet and quickly pulled Maggie along with her. “See this is perfect. Just do what I do,” she instructed as she began to rotate and undulate her hips in time to the music.

  “What song is that, Krista?” Tiff asked from a few tables away.

  “The Story That Never Starts by Abney Park,” Krista said, then held her arms above her head and arched her back, doubling over backward.

  Nearly all of the colony’s inhabitants had gathered within the cantina. They sat scattered about the three stories of the open space as they ate, told stories and laughed at horribly bad jokes. The Chinchassa mingled among the colonists. Two of the younger-looking cat creatures wore white waitress aprons and happily delivered food and drinks to their awaiting customers.

  “We should open our own orbital restaurant,” Becky said through sloppy crunches of crushed ice. “Something to help draw in customers to the system. Make a real spaceport out of this place.”

  “Oooo,” Sabrina said excitedly. “It should be a blue ship with these lasers that are really purple beams of light that you use like huge spotlights to act like a beacon for the customers.”

  “I could be on board with all of that,” Tiff agreed.

  “Ugggg…,” Mel huffed. “You know that you’re probably going to make my head hurt with this idea. It already sounds like something Andy would come up with.” She pulled her hair back and smoothed the loose hairs back into place. “Ok, go ahead. I’m ready. So blue with purple energy beams. Now how in the hell are we going to talk the Captain into letting us set up shop like that? Where exactly do you crazy people come up with ideas like this that will never happen?”

  “Oh, trust me. It can happen. It’s all a matter of how we approach the Captain. But it has to be electric blue,” Sabrina said.

  Melanie groaned and vigorously rubbed her face, then took a deep, frustrated breath. “Okay, so any other bright ideas to throw at it? Should we give away door prizes or sell raffle tickets or something?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. I guess that could all work if we really wanted to do it,” Becky replied.
<
br />   “Ooo ooo ooo,” Sabrina grunted, holding a hand in the air. “Can it have a panini bar? You can’t kick alien ass on an empty stomach.”

  “What the hell is a panini bar,” Melanie said.

  “A station where you make Panini’s, silly,” Sabrina said, then drifted away in mental thought.

  “That still doesn’t tell me what the hell a Panini is.” Melanie.

  “Oh, they are these yummy grilled sandwiches that you serve with different sauces and dressings,” Sabrina said.

  “I like that Idea,” Kara added. “It sounds perfect, especially after running a shuttle back and forth all day long.”

  Mel glared across the table at Kara.

  “What? You can’t tell me that you wouldn’t want something like that on an ass-kicking ship?”

  “Mmmmm,” Sabrina and Becky hummed in unison. “Paninis,” they chanted.

  “See,” Sabrina said, pointing at Becky and Sabrina. “At least I’m not the only one that knows how to have a good time in an alien star system.”

  “I couldn’t help but overhear,” Cara said, walking over to the table with her lunch tray. She flipped her shoulder length golden mane to the side. “There are lots of precautions you’d have to put in place for an intergalactic diner if you really start to think about it. Everyone knows you’d need a proton destabilizing laser net that is activated by the presence of foreign DNA.”

  “As long as it shoots out a purple laser thingy we’ll be okay,” Sabrina said.

  “Well now, you’d need a special selector switch for your purple lasers, that way you could change it to blue or gold or even red.”

  “I’ll tell you what,” Sabrina said. “I’ll come up with the pretty stuff and you worry about the smart engineering stuff.

  “That sounds reasonable enough to me,” Cara admitted, taking a bite of her baked potato.

  “How about a shield that can pull enemies closer that also disables their ships so none of the weapons can be used?”

  “You mean a tractor beam with an emp pulse?”

  “If that's the smart way of putting it, then yes,” Sabrina said. “Oh, and a thingy that can read the kind of tech they have even if it’s more advanced and it can break down how it works, and the ship automatically updates itself by stealing the higher-tech.”

  “So, a side-scanning mechanism array, with electronic detection, auto modulation and an adaptable artificial intelligence interface to run the whole shebang,” Cara asked.

  “You two are way above my head,” Becky admitted, then took a sip of her drink.

  “I still think it should have a panini bar,” Sabrina said. “Is there a technical way to say panini bar?”

  “No.” Cara sighed.

  “Poor aliens…”

  “Oh my God. Out of my dinner! All of you crazy people! Before you run off the paying customers! This is freaking insane. Becky, Sabrina, break time is over. Get back to work.” Melanie huffed back behind the serving line.

  “I guess if I have too,” Becky groused, then turned and slogged her way back to the kitchen.

  “You had me at Panini bar,” Sabrina said with an exhausted yawn. “They sound yummy.”

  “Exactly...Aliens gotta eat too, ya know.”

  “For the love of God will you just get back to work already,” Melanie shouted from behind the bar. “Enough about the panini bar. No one cares but you.”

  “Oh my god, what is that horrible smell?” Sabrina sniffed at the air, then sniffed at her armpits.

  Becky sniffed at the air and gagged. “Oh man, that is foul.”

  “Eh, it’s not that bad. I’ve smelled worse,” Cara said, bragging. “Suck it up Chickadee. If you’re going to run an intergalactic dinner, then you’ll have different races with all of their oddities and weirdness to deal with.”

  “Evening Ladies,” Doug said as he approached the bar. “I’d like to introduce Larrs’Neytee, Captain of the,” Doug paused as he listened to the cooing growl of the seven-foot-tall Sasquatch-like creature. “Captain of the Nebula’s Jewel. He owns the five Rohʙandi ships that came to our aid.”

  “Hey Larrs’Neytee,” Cara said as she stood up and extended her hand toward the large hairy creature. “It’s good to see you again.”

  The bigfoot like alien let out an urgent gurgling growl followed by what sounded like a high-pitched whimper.

  “We will in just a moment,” Doug said to Larrs’Neytee. “Are there any issues or allergies that we need to know about?”

  “What did he just say?” Mel and the others stared wide-eyed at the massive alien before them.

  “He and his crew would love to try our food, but also wanted to know where the restroom was in case things don’t settle right.”

  Mel stared in amazement. “How the hell can you understand any of that braying?”

  “The Rohʙandi work directly for the Polsions, um…,” Doug looked around the room. “The furry possum looking aliens over there are Polsions. They sorta run things and set the rules that everyone seems to follow, kinda like if they were the head of a galactic trade guild. They are the ones that produce the translator implant that allows me to understand them and them to understand me. It’s based on some sort of ancient old empire technology from the way he explains it. Captain Larrs’Neytee,” Doug looked up at the sasquatch looking creature to assure he was getting the name right, “Has agreed to supply our entire population with the implants, free of charge, in exchange for samples of our delicacies and a trade alliance since we have set up shop and laid claim to this system as our own.”

  Sabrina clasped her hands over her mouth. She convulsed with a restraining retch.

  “Not in here,” Mel yelled. “Out! If you’re going to be sick, be sick someplace else!”

  “Um Cap,” Sabrina leaned over and whispered. “Nothing personal mind you, but your friend here may need a flea dip.”

  The massive potbellied Rohʙandi grumbled and growled in Sabrina’s general direction then grumbled something to Doug.

  Doug leaned down toward Sabrina. “He can understand everything you are saying, crewman.”

  Sabrina quickly fanned herself with both hands. “If you would please excuse me,” she gasped. “I have to go...um...powder my nose.” She started to gag as she ran out of the cantina.

  “I’m docking your pay!” Mel's glaring gaze turned back toward Doug and the massive alien captain. “If these guys can’t follow the rules of my diner, I will forcibly remove every one of them myself. That includes using the facilities and not just finding a corner in here somewhere. You make sure he understands that.” Mel jabbed a dishpan finger in the direction of the alien captain. “I am not cleaning up piles of alien shit! Got it!”

  A perturbed look washed over Doug’s face. “He and his crew are our guests and we’ll need accommodations for approximately twenty of them.” He turned to Captain Larrs for confirmation. The alien nodded. “It seems that one of the rating factors that they use when listing new trade locations is the quality of the food and its facilities. It doesn’t necessarily matter if it does anything nutritionally for them because what they are really interested in is the new flavor profiles. I know our supplies are limited, but I’d like you plan a special meal for them with as wide a variety as you can.”

  “Really,” Melanie sighed. “I’ll do what I can, but no guarantees. It’s not like I have a five-star facility here.”

  The large sasquatch looking alien chortled in agreement.

  “How about we start with two beers,” Doug ordered.

  “Coming right up.” Mel fished out two tall beer glasses and poured from an array of old tavern-style pulls. “So, they aren’t upset about the four ships that were destroyed?”

  “No,” Doug said. “We’ve shown them the recordings of the encounters and they have basically chalked it up to a misunderstanding. The way that captain Larrs here puts it; the potential profits of a new trade alliance outweighs the need for retribution.”

  Melanie handed froth
y drinks to Doug. He took a sip of the golden-yellow drink and handed the other glass to the large alien captain, who greedily accepted the tall glass into his massive hand. He drank, white foam clinging comically to the fur around his mouth. The large furry alien let out an obviously happy warbled grunting coo.

  “You could easily take back gallons of this if you like it that much,” Doug said. “We have a good bit currently in stock.”

  The Rohʙandi captain happily smacked his lips and cooed again. He quickly drained the glass and handed it back to Mel with a pleading look.

  “He’d like a refill,” Doug said between sips.

  “Hey now,” Danny shouted from across the room. “My tunes! Bad walking carpet! You don’t mess with a man’s tunes, especially when Skynyrd is playing,” he shouted at one of the large aliens that stood by the cantina’s jukebox pressing buttons.

  Doug laughed, then looked back up at the Rohʙandi captain. “It’ll take a little adjustment time, but I think once we get the mining operations in full swing, the crews will work well together.”

  Captain Larrs let out a scruffing grunt. He nodded and eagerly took the refilled glass from Melanie.

  Jouqon raced past Doug in the direction of the juke box as Casraownan approached the bar and said something in his yowling Chinchassan language to Doug.

  “Melanie, would you mind pouring another glass please,” Doug said. “Cas would like to try a beer as well.”

  “Sure,” she said, pouring another glass from the tap. “Let’s just get the aliens drunk and have a shootout in my cantina. Just like in every freaking science fiction movie ever made,” she sarcastically mumbled under her breath then placed the glass on the bar next to Cas.

  Doug held his glass high, nodding to Captain Larrs, then to Casraownan. “To good health and a long, prosperous friendship.”

  ePILOGUE

  Anderson (Eltanin 2)

  Dig Site Alpha

  September 27th, 2176 / Morning (Dragon time)