Space Trader (Galactic Axia Adventure)

by Laughter, Jim

  “No problems. I promise.”

  “Are you sure you can get around the safeguards?”

  “Then you are aware of my actions,” Ert answered. “Forgive me for underestimating you.”

  “It was only a matter of deduction,” the professor said. “But if that was a confession, I’ll conveniently forget it ever came up.”

  “You are a true friend.” Ert scrolled with what appeared to be a smile onto the professor’s computer monitor. “Now, may I access those records?”

  “Why do you ask? If you have already been doing it, why ask and involve me?”

  “Because the answer to my quest will affect us both and all of humanity,” Ert said. “And it was only ethical to ask when the possible ramifications are so grave.”

  ∞∞∞

  “Hand me that spanner,” Sony called to his assistant Usa, where they were both working on installing yet another emitter on the underside of the Cahill Express.

  “Here you go.” Usa placed the tool in the outstretched hand that appeared from under the ship. It immediately disappeared as Sony snaked it back in.

  “How’d you know what size to give me?” Sony said from where he was now almost completely hidden beside one of the landing skids.

  “Just lucky I guess, boss,” she replied with an odd drawl. She looked over to where Ian and Lyyle were attaching sensors around the Expresses weapons ports and gave them a wink. Lyyle just shook his head and Ian smiled.

  “This is the last time I volunteer to install the underside emitters,” Sony said in a huff.

  “You didn’t volunteer,” Lyyle shot back from where he continued to work. “I told you to do it because you were the skinniest one among us. At least of the guys,” he said as he turned his head and winked at Usa. No one was quite sure what Sony said. All they heard was muttering from under the ship.

  “What was that?” Usa called back.

  “Just tech talk,” Lyyle answered for his friend who continued to mutter.

  “Let him answer for himself,” Usa shot back. “He’s a big boy and needs the practice.”

  More muttering, louder this time, vibrated from the last known location of Sony. Usa cocked an ear and after a second reached over and grabbed what Ian thought looked like an adjustable plumber’s wrench. With this beast in her small but obviously strong hand, she got down on the ground and wiggled in under the ship. Ian didn’t think there was enough room under there for one much less two people, but decided it wasn’t his problem.

  “How long have they been going on like this?” Ian asked Lyyle. He pondered the emotional interplay between the two technicians.

  “For the last couple of years,” Lyyle said. “You just wait a few more hours. Then you’ll see some real fireworks!”

  “Remind me to sell tickets,” Ian said dryly.

  “I’ve thought the same thing myself,” Lyyle agreed. “Several times, in fact.”

  “They ever going to tie the knot?” Ian asked when he finished double-checking the wiring connections. Normally, the exposed wires would burn away from the heat of traversing the atmosphere. Fortunately, the repulsion effect of the drive would protect them. Besides, this was only a test flight. A permanent installation would run through the inside and be clean.

  “The betting pool says anywhere from one to six months,” Lyyle said evenly. “Personally, I’m betting three.”

  “I wouldn’t have taken you for a betting man.”

  “I wouldn’t classify this as a bet,” Lyyle said, turning toward Ian. “Call it more of an investment. They don’t know it yet but the entire pool is a ruse to pull together a little money for them when they finally do get hitched.”

  “Do they know about the pool?”

  “Not really.” Lyyle wiped his hands on a rag. “But I’m sure they suspect something.”

  Ian noticed that it had gotten rather quiet under the ship. He nodded toward where Usa had disappeared and smiled at Lyyle. Lyyle flashed a mischievous grin and bent down beside of the skids. He couldn’t see much except the various fittings on the underside of the Express.

  “Alright you two!” he called loudly. “Don’t get too cozy in there! We’ve got work topside to finish.”

  A loud thud resounded from under the ship followed by Sony moaning. In short order, Usa came wiggling back out and glared at Lyyle.

  “Why’d you do that?” she snapped as she grabbed the medical kit from the tool caddy. “You made Sony bust a knuckle when the wrench slipped.”

  Before Lyyle could think of a reply, a klaxon sounded in the landing bay where the Cahill Express had been moved for the modifications.

  Sony appeared from under the ship, his hand bleeding. The alarm stopped and was replaced by a voice.

  “Attention! Incoming unidentified craft! All personnel clear the bay and report to battle stations!”

  “What’s that all about?” Ian asked as the four started running for the main bunker in the landing complex. It bothered him to leave his ship, but the Express was not flight worthy and he could do little just sitting in her. Better to follow the others to safety and hope for the best.

  “Something tripped the sensor,” Lyyle answered just when they reached the door.

  “Maybe another trader!” Sony exclaimed. He flung the door open and they raced inside.

  “Not likely,” Usa said, offering her opinion. Ian pulled the door shut and they raced for the control center. “Odds are it’s another Red-tail!”

  “Oh, you always say that!” Sony shot back as they charged up the staircase two steps at a time. “You just like the show!” They slowed and entered the control room, “Besides, it’s been over a year since we had a Red-tail. The last three alerts were just space debris.”

  “Aren’t you forgetting something?” Lyyle said to the couple with a nod of his head toward Ian.

  “Oh, yeah. I meant before you came.”

  The four entered the observation area where they could watch both the tractor ray coordinator and the main sensor screen. On it, they could see the grids marking out different sectors covered from this location. There were chairs available but everyone decided to stand.

  Ian noticed that Usa seemed more sensitive to the excitement in the air. Even while she and Sony stood at the railing overlooking the control area, the differences in body language between her and Sony were clear to his experienced eye. The thought that he could read such subtle signals in what should be an alien culture disturbed him. He filed the information away for later consideration.

  “The object is just entering the second grid from the top on the right,” Lyyle said, pointing out the details to Ian.

  “How far out is that?”

  “Our sensors reach much farther out, but the first grid would be about a thousand miles beyond the orbital missile platforms,” Lyyle said.

  “So the platforms are at the edge of the second grid.”

  “That’s rather astute of you,” Lyyle agreed. “That’s correct.”

  “I don’t see any markers indicating the platforms,” Ian observed.

  “There aren’t any left in this sector,” Lyyle answered. “You happened to come through one of the few that had any left.”

  “And truthfully, several of us were surprised that those were still operational,” Sony injected into the conversation from where he was standing. “I would have figured the magnometers in their trigger mechanisms would have grown increasingly weaker over the decades.”

  “How can you be sure it’s a ship?” Ian wanted to see if he understood what the screen was showing them.

  “By the trajectory,” Lyyle answered as he watched the screen closely. “An asteroid would normally come from the other direction.”

  “And also the speed of the object keeps changing,” Sony offered from his vantage point. “Only a self-powered ship could slow down and then speed up. Note those figures in the upper right corner. Those denote velocity, trajectory, and variation compared to the gravitational pull of the planet.”<
br />
  Before Ian could ask another question, an alarm sounded as the object crossed a line just below the second line of demarcation. Ian suspected it was the indicator of where the Optiveil took effect.

  “He’s crossed the veil,” Lyyle confirmed as if in answer to Ian’s unspoken question. Ian glanced at the figures and noticed that the number denoting course variation had gone to zero.

  “And there goes the first ray!” Usa exclaimed as a line appeared on the screen from the surface to the object.

  “If I understand your screen, it would appear this fella came from an area deep in what my charts show to be an uninhabited region.”

  “That area is far from uninhabited,” Lyyle remarked. “But what a ship is doing there, I can’t explain.”

  “What is going to happen to this ship?” Ian asked while he watched several other rays reach out and grab the now disabled vessel.

  “I don’t know,” Lyyle confessed. “Let me check.”

  He stepped over to a handset hanging on a wall behind them. Picking it up, he waited for a moment and then spoke quietly. After a few seconds, he hung back up and returned to stand next to Ian.

  “It’s definitely a Red-tail,” Lyyle announced to the four of them.

  “Originally, they were going to let it burn up,” Lyyle added to Ian while they both continued to watch the screen. The rays had checked the fall of the ship and now clearly held it stationary just inside the Optiveil. If Ian remembered correctly, this was in that fuzzy area where he was unable to see the planet or the veil just behind him.

  “But now they are considering bringing it in for examination,” Lyyle continued. “They seem to think that with you here it is now worth the risk.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Maintaining his ship in a near total shut down, Piaffè watched a particular section of starless space. It had taken many time cycles to discover this place. He was pleased when historical information had been accurate enough to give him these coordinates. Now if the ancient protocols were also accurate, all he had to do was wait.

  To pass the time, Piaffè decided to correlate the combined history of the Horicon and Jibbah with that of this new upstart civilization of bipedal creatures.

  Piaffè was delighted with this unexpected present in the last burst transmission from the Horicon. History had always held his fascination, and this treasure-trove of data was a researcher’s delight. Thanks to the reference work of the Horicon among these creatures, Piaffè’s task would be less arduous than he’d first thought.

  Piaffè was suddenly struck by a curious oversight—how had a Horicon survived these many millennia and was now living among these new creatures?

  Strangely enough, his contact with the Horicon had come not from planet Horicon itself but from a variety of locations. The frequency was the same as in the old time, but that was the only thing similar to previous contacts from that ancient race. It was as if the Horicon he was working with was either constantly moving among the stars or was trying to stay hidden. This seemed odd to the curious Piaffè and did not mesh at all with his knowledge of the ancient friends of the Jibbah.

  Setting aside his correlation work, Piaffè studied all the transmissions from his Horicon contact. Analyzing each contact with the normal protocols outlined in the joint history of the Horicon and Jibbah was the first step Piaffè set himself to. Further analysis would suggest itself after that.

  Piaffè fully understood the tragic history of the Horicon. Planet-bound due to physiological factors that neither race could compensate for or overcome, the Horicon resorted to using remote probes to search the universe around them.

  That was how they had met the Jibbah in the first place. Together they had combined their efforts to discover by whatever means possible the secrets around them. It was a golden age for both races as the strengths of both personal and remote exploration made a greater effort possible. It took generations to analyze all the data that flooded back and forth between the two races.

  Countless generations passed in partnership when the tragic news reached the Jibbah—the only world tenable for the Horicon was going to die. The scientists of both races strove to either move the Horicon or stabilize their primary star. Neither effort bore fruit, so the Jibbah slowly watched their friend’s lush home world reduced to a lifeless orb, leaving only the underground depths of the planet to provide temporary shelter for their planet-bound friends. The Jibbah faced the universe alone—a universe with a new menace.

  But now after many millions of years of silence, the Jibbah heard from the Horicon on the old frequencies. The consternation at such an unexpected event rocked even the Elder Council. The Jibbah had watched the Horicon die. They had listened and watched to the very bitter end while their galactic friends disappeared into nothingness. And now they were calling again after generations of silence.

  Correlating both time and vectors of each transmission from the Horicon, Piaffè plotted it out in his star tank. He worked backward which only led him so far in trying to identify the origination point. By further analyzing the carrier of each signal, Piaffè then was able to plot the most likely direction for each. That each transmission seemed to use a different vector was obvious. But this gave Piaffè yet another clue, and he was able to match the deterioration of each signal against known environmental factors in those sectors of space.

  Ironically, it had been the Horicon probes that first consistently plotted the weather of space. Augmenting their data with that from the Jibbah ships helped the Horicon further refine the pattern of cosmic disturbances. Soon the science of predicting what the ships and probes would find as they traversed space matured, and consequently, the safety of ships passing through space was greatly enhanced.

  But with every breakthrough came unexpected consequences. The Horicon and Jibbah were not alone exploring the universe. Piaffè shuddered at the thought of what had been unwittingly unleashed, a menace that had nearly stopped exploration by the Jibbah and threatened their very existence.

  Piaffè looked over his data and sighed as a result of the last of the signals he was analyzing. He had narrowed the possible locations of this mysterious Horicon but the possibilities were still too vast. What he would need now was a sustained transmission he could home in on rather than the short bursts he had received so far. He knew it wasn’t his primary mission to find this Horicon survivor but Piaffè was none-the-less curious.

  Putting that quest back on hold, the little Jibbah again focused on the historical information he’d been sent. Piaffè knew that the information would eventually reach the home worlds of the Jibbah for analysis, but his mission could not wait. The urgency in the first contact from the Horicon was obvious. Piaffè would have to make use of the data now in an effort to help their friends. Using the time tags provided by the Horicon, Piaffè applied his own intense scrutiny to the task.

  ∞∞∞

  Ian stared out the control center window overlooking the landing bays. To his left was the bay holding the Cahill Express. To his right and farther out was the holding bay where the tractor rays had brought down the Red-tail ship. Even from here, Ian could see the distortion field of the different rays holding the enemy ship captive.

  “I know you’ve got it grounded by the tractor rays,” Ian said to Lyyle who was standing next to him. “But what is to keep him from firing his weapons? He should have full ship systems now that he is out of the nullifying effect of the Optiveil.”

  “You can’t see the difference from here but we have a dampening field on him as well,” Lyyle answered. “It’s one of the other projects that grew out of the development of the Optiveil.”

  “You people are full of surprises,” Ian remarked dryly. “Now tell me why the decision on whether or not to let him burn was put in my hands?”

  “Maybe I should answer that,” Cap said from behind the two men as he stepped onto the observation deck. The trader was only mildly surprised at Cap’s sudden appearance.

  From what he had
observed, Cap was more than just provost for this area. Either that or Cap dabbled in areas of interest that were not normally the responsibility of a man in his stated position. Now Cap Embrel hinted that he had more authority than that of a simple provost. If Ian had read his inflection correctly, it was probably Cap that decided it should be put to Ian regarding the disposition of the Red-tail and his ship. Ian patiently waited for the explanation.

  “If you’re expecting some convoluted speech that hints at dark and mysterious secrets, you’re in for a disappointment,” Cap said. “The truth is much simpler. I just thought that since you have more experience with Red-tails than we do, you might see some purpose in his capture instead of his destruction.”

  Ian nodded.

  “Besides, I already have enough pieces of melted glass for my office.”

  Ian remembered the melted glass screen displayed in Cap’s office from the last Red-tail ship. The provost’s use of humor was quite disarming about what was in reality a very serious situation. Ian’s suspicion about Cap’s position and authority grew stronger. But again, that was for another time. Right now, they had a dangerous Red-tail to deal with.

  “Although I would be inclined to have the Red-tail destroyed just on principle, I think we need to place him in custody for the present,” Ian offered thoughtfully. “Are you able to use those tractor rays on an individual?”

  Cap nodded.

  “Believe me, don’t try to handle him with anything less than stun weapons in the hands of armed guards wearing full body armor.”

  “You make him sound dangerous,” Lyyle offered from where he was listening.

  “Dangerous would be an extreme understatement,” Ian said firmly. “Even experienced troopers only take Red-tails captive with full teams of guards. And that with fully charged weapons at the ready. You don’t want to let him have the slightest chance of breaking free or attacking anybody.”

  Cap read the coldness in Ian’s tone and again nodded as he made a mental note about the trader.

  “What do they do with captured Red-tails in the Axia now?” Sony asked. Beside him, Usa stood there wide-eyed.