by Doug Farren
“Then don’t. Krish out.”
Lashpa’s finger jabbed the screen harder than necessary, terminating the connection.
“Krish, set course for the Orion’s last known location.”
“Acknowledged. Be advised there is a considerable amount of debris in the area which will impede our progress.”
“Best speed possible then.”
Lashpa remained seated in the command center constantly scanning every nearby piece of debris for any sign of life. Even though she was focused on trying to find Tom’s ship, she still had a responsibility to keep an eye out for other survivors who might be unable to communicate.
Three hours later, the ship announced, “We have reached the last known location of the Orion. I have identified several large pieces of debris.”
Lashpa’s hands danced over her controls. Several screens sprang to life with images and data. “Have you found the command module?”
“Negative. Based on an analysis of the ship remains, it appears as if the module was ejected.”
“Widen the scan! It can’t be too far away.”
“Acknowledged.”
Under normal circumstances the ship’s AI would have concluded that Lashpa was acting irrationally. But these were not normal circumstances and Lashpa’s odd connection to Peacekeeper Wilks could provide a possible explanation for her current behavior. As part of its research into the odd shift in her and Tom’s deep brainwave patterns, the computer had scanned hundreds of thousands of news reports of inexplicable behavior. Lashpa’s current deep feeling that Tom was still alive fit the pattern of some of these reports. Her emotions were getting a little out of hand but the AI decided against introducing any calming drugs into her system in case they interfered with her unexplained connection to Tom.
“Command module located. It is heavily damaged.”
Lashpa’s hands became almost a blur as she focused every available sensor on the command module. Her tail was thrashing so much that the ship took control and stopped it from moving. It created an artificial feedback loop so Lashpa wouldn’t notice.
Turning around, she practically ran down the passageway toward the airlock. “Bring us as close as you can,” she ordered.
She tore her suit out of the locker, quickly put it on, and stepped into the airlock. Leaving the outer door open, she clipped a safety line to the hull and said, “Krish, get me over there.”
The AI instantly understood what she wanted. The computer performed the calculations then took over control of her legs. A gentle push launched her into space.
* * * * *
Tom had become used to the vibration of large and small things colliding with the command module. Using a knight, he took a pawn. “I got you now,” he continued his dialog with himself. Hearing his own voice was far better than hearing absolutely nothing. It was helping him stay focused.
Although it was impossible for him to know for sure, he estimated he’d been sitting in the dark for at least seven or eight hours. He was very thirsty and beginning to get hungry. His throat was parched and scratchy from his near constant talking.
A light glinted off a piece of broken glass. Looking around he saw a much brighter light moving around through a crack in the hull. Lifting his arms, he tried to wave them back and forth. But, because he’d been out of communication with his ship for so long, his cybernetics were now operating in slow motion.
“Over here!” he shouted, oblivious to the fact that there was no atmosphere to carry his voice.
The light wandered around the room then landed on him. It jiggled back and forth a few times indicating that whoever was holding it had seen him. A minute later, a glowing line appeared. The beam cut through the hull and began chewing its way through the other side of the cabin. Tom watched as the beam scribed a circle in the hull then winked out.
Tom stared at the spot where the beam had penetrated and eventually saw stars. A bright light appeared then dropped down into the cabin. The light was so bright he couldn’t make out who or what was coming for him. A hand appeared from the shadow and plugged a cord into the suit’s communication plug.
A familiar voice said, “Tom! Are you okay?”
Tears began running down his cheeks. “I am now.”
Chapter 56
The door opened and a creature never before seen in this part of the country squeezed through the entrance which was obviously too small for her to comfortably pass through. There was a scrapping sound as armor fought to move past the door frame. Customers stopped eating and stared as the new arrival stood in the entrance. The proprietor hurried to the front to great her first alien customer.
“May…may I help you?” she managed to ask.
“I’ve been told,” the alien spoke through a hidden translating device, “that this establishment serves the best breakfast in the area. I’m here to verify the authenticity of this statement.”
“People say that,” Paula proudly replied. “But I’m not sure we have anything for your palate. Would you like to see a menu?”
“Do you have any anchovies, preferably live ones?”
“Live anchovies?” Paula took a step back. “We don’t even have those in a can. Perhaps you would be better served somewhere else.”
The door opened again and a second customer walked in. He was human in appearance and also clad in black armor. “I don’t think so,” he said.
“Tom!” Paula yelled. Turning her head, she said, “And this must be Lashpa! You scared the hell out of me.”
“My apologies,” Lashpa replied. “I may also have damaged your door frame.” Turning her head around and looking at Tom, Lashpa added, “I told you I wouldn’t fit.”
“Hey everyone!” Paula raised her voice. “I’d like you to meet a friend of mine. This here’s Tom Wilks, Cassandra Wilson’s brother.”
There was a muted chorus of “hello”s and “glad to meet you”s from the seated customers.
“I’m sorry to have disturbed your breakfast,” Tom told the crowd. “To make up for it, anyone who eats here today eats for free. I’m picking up the tab.”
There was an even louder rumble of “thank you”s and several customers raised a utensil or a cup of coffee in the air in salute.
Returning his attention to Paula, Tom said, “Send me the bill at the end of the day.”
“Do you have any idea how busy I’m going to be once word of this gets out?” Paula asked, planting her hands on her hips. The smile on her face betrayed her true feelings regarding his overly generous offer.
“Of course I do,” Tom smiled. “So,” he said, looking around. “Is this a seat yourself or be seated establishment?”
“Just pick a seat. But I don’t think Lashpa’s going to fit at any of the tables. I doubt she can even get into the dining room.”
Tom pointed a thumb toward the door. “I saw a picnic table on the side of the diner. That’ll be fine.”
“Sure, I’ll bring a menu out to you.”
Lashpa quickly discovered that getting out of the diner was even more difficult than getting in. “This is the second time since I’ve known you that you’ve done something like this,” Tom chided, after discovering she had no room to turn around.
Lashpa carefully backed out the door. Although she was being as careful as possible, the door frame splintered and a piece of wood peeled away.
“I’m so sorry,” Lashpa said, embarrassed. “I’ll have it fixed.”
“You’ll do no such thing,” Paula said. “That’s proof you were here. I’m going to put up a sign. This place is going to be famous.”
Back outside, Lashpa turned to Tom, muted her vocoder, and said, “You Terrans are a strange lot. Are you sure she’s mentally stable?”
“She knows a good business opportunity when she sees one,” Tom replied. “Don’t be too surprised if she asks to take a picture of you next to the door before we leave.”
“I don’t have to,” Paula said from the doorway. She was carrying two menus in he
r hand. “There are security cameras installed so I already have all the pictures and video I need.”
Tom grabbed the wooden bench and moved it aside. Lashpa took up a position at the end of the table and extended her tail. Paula watched in amazement as Tom sat down on it.
“You’re going to get tired,” Paula said.
“Not at all,” Lashpa replied. “My tail is cybernetically enhanced.”
Setting the menus on the table, Paula assumed her role as the server. “Can I get you two anything to drink?”
“Coffee,” Tom replied, picking up the menu.
“Water please,” Lashpa replied.
“She reacted quite well,” Lashpa said after Paula left.
“She did indeed,” Tom replied. He paused for a moment, then added, “Cassandra’s calling. Someone must have tipped her off that I’m in town.”
“She’s undoubtedly going to be angry with you. You’d better answer.”
A single thought to his biolink completed the connection. The AI on Tom’s recently replaced ship took control of his eyes and ears, enabling him to see and hear his sister as if he was sitting in front of a vidphone. It also constructed a perfect replica of his face and projected the same illusion for her.
As far as Tom was concerned, his new ship was no different than his old. The AI he had grown so accustomed to was once again back in his head, resurrected from the dead through the magic of frequent backups. His own injuries had been easily repaired. For a cyborg, repairing a damaged limb was almost as easy as changing the tire on a car. However, surgery was required to replace his internal computer with recovery taking three days.
“Where the hell are you?” Cassandra demanded as soon as the connection was made.
“Sitting at a picnic table outside Paula’s diner,” Tom replied as if she had just asked him what time it was.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming to town?” she asked in a hurt tone.
“I wanted to surprise Paula and you would have spoiled it.”
“You don’t think I can keep a secret?”
“Nope.”
“You’re right you know,” she admitted. “Paula would’ve known something was up as soon as we walked in the door for our Sunday breakfast. And she would’ve been suspicious if we hadn’t shown up.”
“Can you and John meet us here?”
“We’re heading for the car now.”
“Okay, see you soon.”
“See you soon—booger breath.”
Tom started to reply but the connection between them was broken before he could get a single word out.
“You really should tell her about what happened to you and your ship,” Lashpa said.
“No,” he replied, shaking his head. “My sister’s far too emotional. I think this is one secret I’m going to keep from her.”
“I disagree. I think Cassandra is stronger than you think.”
“I’ll think about it.”
Paula had arrived and was standing in front of the table. It was obvious she had heard at least Tom’s part of the conversation.
“I was talking to Cassandra,” he explained.
“I figured you were equipped with a phone,” she replied, setting the drinks down. “What’s this big secret you’re keeping from Cassandra?”
Tom decided he couldn’t lie to Paula. The truth was always better than a lie. “My ship was destroyed in a battle. I was injured.”
“Well, you look pretty healthy to me right now. Have you two decided what you want to eat?”
Lashpa asked for a fruit tray while Tom ordered a western omelet with cheese.
“Tell her,” Paula told him after taking their order. “She’s your sister.”
“Join us for awhile if you can,” Tom said as Paula turned to leave.
She glanced at the diner then back at Tom, her indecision clearly showing.
“I’m sure they can handle things without you for a few minutes,” he prompted.
“Ten minutes, no more and only if you promise to do me a favor,” Paula said.
“Name it.”
“Cassandra loves to tell everyone about her ride in your ship. I want one too.”
“Done.”
“I’ll take my break when I bring out your food,” she replied.
Fifteen minutes later, Paula reappeared carrying a tray with Tom’s breakfast. Another server was following behind with a huge tray piled with fruit. After serving them, Paula took a seat across from Tom, a cup of steaming coffee cradled in her hands. She waited while he took a bite.
“Well?” she asked when Tom didn’t react.
“Delicious!” he replied.
That brought a smile to her face. Looking at Lashpa she said, “I hope you like the fruit. Most of it’s locally grown.”
Lashpa picked up a large piece of cantaloupe and popped it in her mouth. “It’s quite tasty,” she said.
Paula stared at Lashpa for a moment then looked at Tom. “Cassandra tells me you two have a special relationship.”
“We are gragrakch,” Lashpa replied. Noticing that the term meant nothing to her, she launched into an explanation. Paula sat and listened, fascinated.
Lashpa was just finishing up her explanation when one of the customers from inside approached their table.
“Excuse me,” he said. “I’m Frank Zimmerman. I’m a reporter for the Plainwell Post. Would you two mind stopping by our office for an interview? Our little town has never been visited by a peacekeeper before, much less one from off world.”
Paula finished her coffee and stood up. “Don’t let me get in the way,” she said. “I have a diner to run.”
“Please,” Lashpa said, indicating the recently vacated bench. “Have a seat. You can do the interview now if you wish.”
Tom raised his voice, “Paula, what time do you get off work today?”
“I think I’m going to be in for a long day after your little offer of a free meal for anyone who shows up,” she replied. “We close at eight.”
“Pick you up at nine then?”
“How about if I just meet you at your sister’s?”
“That sounds like a much better idea,” Tom replied. “See you there.” Turning to Zimmerman, he asked, “So Mr. Zimmerman, what is it you would like to know?”
Mr. Zimmerman pulled out his pocket computer and set it on the table. “Thank you!” he said, “I’d like to start with Peacekeeper Lashpa—why don’t you tell me a little about yourself.”
The interview was interrupted and placed on temporary hold by the arrival of Cassandra and her husband. Mr. Zimmerman patiently waited while the family reunion took place, making appropriate notes for inclusion into his article. A few minutes later, Lashpa broke away and resumed her interview. When they were done, Cassandra invited him to join them at her house. A small caravan of cars and tricycles made the short trip to her home and Tom gave his interview on the back porch.
Later that night, following a home-cooked meal, Paula arrived.
“Ugh!,” she exclaimed when she walked onto the back porch. “What’s that awful smell?”
Just outside the porch railing, barely visible in the evening’s fading light, Paula saw Lashpa laying in the lawn, a large tank of fish sitting on the grass in front of her.
“Anchovies!” she said, holding a squirming fish up for her to see just before dropping it into her mouth.
“Where on earth did you find those?” she asked Tom.
“John has a friend who knows a friend who raises them for a local cannery, Cassandra replied. “They were more than happy to bring some out for her.”
“They stink!”
“So does your burnt food!” Lashpa fired back, grabbing another fish from the tank.
* * * * *
“So that’s what Jupiter looks like,” Paula said. “Are you sure you don’t have a window I can look out? I thought the colors were more vivid than this.”
“Military ships don’t have windows,” Tom replied.
; “I didn’t think this was a military vessel.”
“Technically, no. But it’s built to the same specs. Windows weaken the hull and aren’t nearly as strong as armor.”
“So the only way I can look outside is with a video screen?”
“Unless you want to climb into a spacesuit.”
“Um, no thanks. So why is everything so bland? Is there something wrong with your video equipment?”
Tom chuckled. “Not at all. Most of the pictures people on Earth see have been colorized to make them stand out more. Orion, enhance with color.”
The image of Jupiter instantly changed into an eye-catching colorful image.
“Now that’s what I’m used to seeing!” Paula exclaimed.
“Where would you like to go next?”
“Can we see the rings of Saturn?”
Tom glanced at the tactical display. “That’s going to take about three hours. Saturn is on the other side of the solar system and we’ll have two gravity wells to deal with.”
“I already told Sue I probably wouldn’t be in tomorrow,” Paula said. “She can handle the diner for a day. Let’s go.”
“Course set for Saturn,” the ship announced without Tom having to say anything.
Paula glanced around the gleaming instruments of the control center. “So this is where you spend most of your time?”
“A lot of it,” Tom said.
“I’d be bored stiff. Cassandra tells me you’re a grandmaster. Care to see if I can’t raise my rating while we’re headed for Jupiter?”
“You play chess?” Tom asked, surprised. He would never have thought Paula could play.
“Just because I’m owner, cook, and chief bottle washer at a diner doesn’t mean I don’t have a brain,” she said. “I have an ELO rating of 2,015.”
The look on Tom’s face must have said a lot more than he was willing to put into words. Grabbing his hand, Paula gave him a yank and said, “Come on, you’ve got to have a chess set somewhere inside this ship.”
Tom could easily become an immovable object but allowed himself to be pulled along. “Of course I do!” he said, as they headed for his stateroom.