“—you to describe the situation,” said a rather grizzled female voice midsentence.
“We’ve got about four minutes before this thing autodestructs and takes the whole ship with it,” Dan said. “I don’t want to pop the bay door, because for all we know this thing has a pirate relay out there somewhere just waiting to download the data.”
Lex activated his transmitter. “Listen, we don’t care about your data.”
“Who is this and how did you get on this channel?” the new voice demanded.
“I’m the ship’s pilot, and let’s just say I’ve got really good equipment.”
“His name is Lex, apparently, and he’s not lying. This is some of the most advanced tech we’ve seen,” Dan added.
“Well this is Captain Tripper, and let me tell you something about how we run things. No one poaches our data. No one. We are outside any borders here. Outside any jurisdictions. That means we make our own laws, and we’ve just got one. No one takes our data. Here’s what’s going to happen. We’re going to pop on a radio scrambler, then were going to pop the bay door, and then we’re going to pop your ship when it comes out. No time for broadcast, no time for rescue. Then we’re going to scrape you off our hull and finish out this contract.”
“I don’t think you’re going to be able to do that. Like I said, really good equipment. If you want your data back, you’re going to have to let me get in touch with my ship so I can tell her to dump it.”
“The only way you are getting back in your ship is by force, and you haven’t got near what it takes to start issuing commands. Clear the docking bay and stand by to—”
The remainder of her orders was wiped away by the blare of a warning tone. Lex didn’t recognize it, but he didn’t have to wonder about it for very long. A blinding burst of light not far away (in astronomical terms) drew his attention, and something almost too large to register in his mind as a ship came sliding into view.
A normal pilot making sane decisions will drop down from FTL well outside a planetary system and ease in at more conventional speeds. A daredevil with no regard for human life might drop in around a hundred thousand kilometers away. This ship showed from behind, near enough that it would have been struck by satellites if it was approaching a planet. Despite coming from behind, it was facing backward. The massive bank of engines at the rear were cranked to full in order to bring it down to match the speed of the convoy.
The communication channel exploded with a dozen voices screaming orders at once, but the captain managed to shout them all down.
“Someone tell me what just showed up on sensors! Pipe me a video feed!”
One of the security ships peeled off and dropped back to the newcomer, which was massive enough to make the survey ship seem like it could have been one of its escape pods. The small vessel drew as near as it dared, searching for some identifying aspect of the new threat.
“I’ve got a visual on its markings. It appears to have a VectorCorp serial number,” the security pilot reported.
“I see it. Whoever you are on the ship, is this your doing?” the captain said.
“If I had a massive battleship at my disposal, do you think I would have waited until I was exposed on the outer hull of one of your ships before I called it in?”
“Is that thing on com? Get me its channel, now!”
“It’s broadcasting on VC general frequencies, Captain,” stated Dan.
“Attention, survey vessel. I have reason to believe you are in possession of an unknown vessel. You will release them both to me,” wheezed a frail voice.
Lex’s blood practically froze in his veins.
“Purcell… she did make it through…” he whispered, adding, “Captain, I think this one might be on me. Whatever happens next, I’m truly sorry.”
“You VectorCorp scumbags,” growled the captain, disregarding Lex. “We’re on contract with you. Now you’re sending someone out to snipe our data rather than pay us? Is that how you’re doing business?”
“She isn’t after you, she’s after me and the ship. She’s not VectorCorp. I don’t know how she got her hands on that ship, but if you just let Coal go she’ll—oh God!”
Like a lumbering dinosaur ignorant of the creatures it was trampling underfoot, the massive VectorCorp monstrosity began to pivot, drawing ever nearer to the survey ship. Its gargantuan length swung ponderously aside, shoved by thrusters far more powerful than the nearby security ship was expecting. It flared its own engines in an attempt to escape, but the defensive shields of the VectorCorp ship struck it hard, barely flickering in response to the collision. The security ship buckled and detonated, blown to pieces like a bug that had wandered into a zapper. Just like that, a simple repositioning of the VectorCorp vessel had casually ended the lives of a pilot and gunner. A spiraling thruster struck the shields of the communication ship, collapsing them and nearly shaking Lex from the hull.
“All crew, all ships, you are ordered to aid the primary communication vessel. Use any force necessary against the VectorCorp ship! Now, now, now!” the captain commanded.
The engines of the communication vessel kicked on, preparing to perform whatever evasive maneuvers the aging science ship could manage. Within moments Lex found himself sliding along the hull, the grip of his boots not nearly strong enough to overcome acceleration of the vessel.
“No, no!” he yelped.
A raised panel on the ship’s hull caught his heel and yanked his feet out from under him, sending him tumbling backward and away from the ship. He feathered the controls for his jet pack and stopped his tumble, but the ship was pulling away, and the meager thrust of his pack was no match for its engines.
“Okay, okay. Let’s all just cool it before we blow up something I need,” barked a new voice over the communication channel.
It was Karter. Not for the first time, Lex could not decide if he should be relieved or terrified at his arrival. Based on his recent behavior, it would take one hell of an alternative for Future Karter to be considered the lesser of two evils. A crazed, possibly senile Neo-Luddite commander with a vendetta and a prototype warship was a strong contender for the biggest problem at the moment.
Directly in front of Lex, not more than a few hundred meters away, a large, egg-shaped metal canister seemed to appear from nowhere. A half second after its appearance, just as Lex swerved to avoid it, the panels on its surface burst open and a flash of violet light flooded the area. Lex’s vision dropped to complex patterns swirling in darkness, and the voices of the other ships faded from his ears. At first he thought he’d been rendered blind and deaf, but the quiet hiss of his pack and his own frantic breathing still echoed in his helmet. Slowly indicators in his HUD began to illuminate, revealing that his visor itself had gone opaque, presumably as a defense against the blinding light.
Warnings of all sorts began to scrawl up, but Lex hardly needed to read them. In the past few months he had gone from vaguely aware of electromagnetic pulses to being intimately familiar with their nuances. That his suit was still functional after being so near the source of an EMP attack suggested Karter and Ma had gone above and beyond to harden the suit and its electronics. He finally got the option to restore visibility. Once the visor cleared, he discovered the communication vessel, the security ship, and the handful of other convoy members that had been rushing to their aid had regrettably not been built with the same level of care. Each was now sliding in the same direction it had been heading, but twisting helplessly as many critical systems abruptly shut off or scrambled.
The one ship that wasn’t dead in the water was, of course, the VectorCorp ship. Its shields were shimmering but intact, and as far as Lex could tell not a single light on its hull had gone dark as a result of the blast.
“Well, well, well,” said Karter, his voice somewhat distorted over the recovering com system in Lex’s helmet. “It looks like I’m not the only one with a pulse-adapted shield.”
The section of space in front of Lex flickered
with a half-seen image, then finally dropped like a veil to reveal Karter’s ship. It was a few dozen meters dead ahead, and to Lex’s dismay, the controls for his pack hadn’t quite reactivated. After a few seconds, he collided with Karter’s windshield, mercifully at a speed slow enough for him to bounce painfully off without rupturing anything.
“You’ve got all of space to flail around in, and you manage to crash into my ship,” Karter grumbled, glaring at Lex through the window as the hapless pilot twirled slowly backward.
“Lex, please state your current status,” Ma said calmly.
“Forget about me. Coal is in the docking bay of the survey ship, and she’s started the countdown to self-destruct,” Lex said.
He was trying to stop his rotation by waving his arms and legs, which had the net result of making him look like the final logical conclusion of the three stooges.
“Why have you not instructed her to discontinue this behavior?” Ma asked.
“Never mind why, Ma,” Karter said. “Get out there and fix it.”
“Yes, Karter,” Ma said.
Lex continued to rotate, his pack occasionally sputtering and sending him in a new, usually unwanted direction.
“Karter Dee…” wheezed Purcell across the connection.
“That’s me. One of them, anyway. Remind me again, was it me or my computer you had a vendetta against?” Karter replied. “It has been a few years since I’ve had to deal with someone who thinks they are my arch nemesis.”
Purcell didn’t answer, at least not verbally. Instead she made her opinion known in the form of three potent energy cannons along the belly of the VectorCorp ship pivoting in his direction. Their barrels began to glow threateningly.
Lex worked out the trajectory of the forthcoming attacks and came to the not-altogether-unexpected conclusion that the bolts would most likely pass through him on the way to Karter’s ship. Regardless of whether it was likely to be on purpose or by accident, Lex was determined to get clear. Determination, however, wasn’t nearly enough to get his pack functional again.
“Hold perfectly still,” Ma instructed.
His rotation brought him back around toward Karter’s ship. Out from beneath it, darting like a missile, flew Ma. The nozzles of her pack glowed like flares, far more intensely than he’d ever seen. As she drew near, she pivoted, flipping all four feet toward him.
“Grab my rear paws and hold tight,” she said.
By now the power output of the VectorCorp cannons was sufficient to cause interference in the signal, but the message made it through. Lex reached out and caught her feet. Even in their overdriven state, the jets on Ma’s back and her momentum weren’t nearly enough to cancel out the momentum of Lex’s much more massive body, but it was enough to give him a shove in the right direction.
The two of them began to accelerate out of the path of the weapons and toward the still-disabled communication ship.
“I have waited far too long for this, Karter,” Purcell rumbled.
“Well get on with it, then. Let’s see what you’ve got,” Karter replied.
“Ma, faster. Much faster,” Lex said.
“We are already exceeding the safety parameters of the pack. Stand by for—”
The remainder of the sentence was blotted out by a massive burst of interference as the energy cannons launched a volley. It passed near enough to once again black out Lex’s visor, and the heat of the blast passing by raised the surface of his suit to a temperature that triggered another three alerts, but neither he nor Ma sustained any major damage. His visor slowly dialed down to a lesser tint, but that did him very little good, as the blasts were coming continuously, bathing the area in their brilliant glow such that Lex could see nothing else.
#
The VectorCorp ship unleashed volley after volley of energy bolts. One by one, additional energy cannons warmed up and joined in the fray. The shots burst like fireworks upon impact. Flecks of plasma sprayed and splashed in all directions. The color shifted in a terrible rainbow of reds, yellows, blues, and whites as the temperatures rose. Tendrils of ionized gas lashed out as though they had a mind of their own, pushed about by the constant stream of attacks.
Purcell kept the attack up as long as she could. The energy weapons, designed for short bursts, soon began to overheat. They entered a cool-down cycle, and the bolts finally stopped flying. Seconds ticked by and slowly the cloud of plasma began to cool and disperse. When the haze cleared, Karter’s ship remained. Its shields had held, not so much as a singe on its hull plating from the onslaught.
“Okay, you’ve had your fun,” Karter taunted through the crackling interference. “But now it’s my turn.”
A row of panels on either side of the cockpit opened revealing rows of missiles. Karter didn’t waste his breath on an additional threat or quip. He simply released them all at once. They didn’t seem terribly imposing, each barely the size of a banana. The bolts holding on the armor plates of the VectorCorp ship were probably larger. A dozen of the tiny missiles streaked toward their targets.
When they struck, rather than an explosion or a rush of radioactive devastation, they split into a crackling cloud of smaller fragments. Each fragment caused a section of the shields to dim and flicker. By the time the third missile hit, a great, yawning hole in the larger ship’s defenses had opened. This allowed the remainder of the salvo to slip through. They struck the hull and scattered their fragments across its surface, each becoming a pinpoint of bright slag that spread into a bright pool of molten alloy when it looped back down toward the hull. These pools sank in, eating away at the thick plates like acid before escaping air began to vent through the breaches.
“There,” Karter said. “Now that you’re softened up, let’s try the big stuff.”
In response, the VectorCorp ship’s engines surged. It roared forward, charging directly at Karter’s ship.
“Oh, so someone wants to play rough. Okay…” he said.
A dozen new panels on Karter’s ship opened, revealing an assortment of new weapons.
“Let’s play rough…”
#
Lex had been watching in awe as the battle raged behind him. That they’d not been struck by the copious amounts of stray energy and shrapnel was a wonder. The interference produced by the exchange of fire was enough to overwhelm the transceiver of Lex’s suit, treating him to little more than a series of random tones and clicks as the com system tried to make sense of the wide-spectrum noise. When they were closing in on the communication ship, Ma reached down and pressed the paw of her suit to his helmet’s visor.
“Attempting to circumvent radio interference with tactile signal transmission. If you can hear me, please respond.”
“I hear you fine! Please tell me there’s a plan.”
“There are a number of plans.”
“Have any of them got a step where we save at least some of the survey crew? They have nothing to do with this.”
“I will take no active role in their destruction unless ordered by Karter, but neither will I attempt to prevent their deaths. History must unfold as it had previously.”
“I refuse to believe the answer to the mystery of the SSS 77 tragedy was collateral damage from an insane woman from the future duking it out with an insane man from the future.”
“Your belief is not necessary. Facts are facts,” Ma said.
Their slow spiral brought Lex around to spy Karter’s ship, or at least the spot in space he’d last seen Karter’s ship. It was now entirely hidden behind the looming structure of the VectorCorp ship, which had attempted to ram its tiny opponent.
“Is he going to be okay?”
“That is not relevant to our current tasks,” Ma said. “However, my analysis of the ship while I was aboard suggested my missing influence allowed him to dedicate his full attention to his more destructive interests. It is entirely possible, despite the size disparity, Karter’s ship has the VectorCorp vessel outgunned.”
Lex felt himself sur
ge forward. “My pack just woke up!” he said, releasing her legs and taking control of the flight.
She separated from him, matching his speed before flipping over and firing a tether to attach to him.
“Resuming communication. Listen closely, Lex. I can only discuss this discreetly while in direct contact with you, and only while I am in the process of obeying my most recent order. Did you receive my coded message?”
“Yeah. The bot we’ve got is screwed up. What are we supposed to do about that?”
“You have to take it to Karter for adaptation.”
“I can’t even count the number of ways that’s a bad idea. But we’ll start with the fact that he wants me dead. And also he might be dead after this clash with Purcell.”
“The future incarnation of Karter is only interested in preventing your interference with his plans, not your death. The fact that the simplest way to prevent your interference is to kill you is, however, an obstacle. That is not relevant to the point at hand. The future incarnation is not the Karter to which I was referring.”
“Wait. You mean local Karter? Karter from the past?”
“More accurately, Karter from the present.”
“You’re letting these people die because we can’t change the past, but you’re suggesting I have a chat with Karter thirty years before I first met him?”
They reached the hull of the communication ship, which now sported a number of smoldering holes thanks to the splash damage from the energy weapons. There were minor signs of life in the vessel, scattered external lights dimly flickering and some faint radio signals from within, but it was still badly ailing from the EMP attack.
“Please lead the way to the docking bay hatch behind which Coal can be found,” Ma said.
“It’s this way I think,” Lex said. “I was unconscious when we showed up. And don’t change the subject. What’s with the hypocrisy?”
“Karter of this era is a special case. It is well known that his mental stability has been unreliable. At this point in history he worked as a military contractor. His contract dictated that he be allowed to work in isolation. In three years, the psychological assessment that will lead the military leaders to discontinue their association with him will take place. It will indicate he has been experiencing intense hallucinations and has a pronounced inability to differentiate between fantasy and reality. In short, Karter’s mental health is currently at an all-time low. As long as no evidence of our arrival is left behind, he and/or his evaluators will simply disregard our presence as another delusion.”
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