by T. R. Harris
As the double doors began to separate, a powerful steam of air escaped, taking with it flailing bodies and unsecured crates and barrels. As it widened, even a few small starships were sucked out.
Coop fired the engines, spinning the Gracilian ship a hundred and eighty degrees and toward the widening exit. When he was lined up, he gunned the jets.
The abrupt change from gravity to no gravity was gut-wrenching, but the Humans were expecting it. The tiny ship sped away, catching the Maris-Kliss bridge crew by surprise. No plasma bolts followed them before Copernicus could establish a deep gravity-well and jump.
To their relief, the well formed immediately, even though it did sputter for a moment. But then it stabilized, stronger than they’d seen it since leaving the research station. Spreading the dark matter items apart and away from critical systems was doing the trick. Now they waited to see if their sabotage job on the MK ship was going to work. They would know any moment. The huge company ship was a lot faster than they were.
The white suits were in an executive suite aboard the starship, planning their experiments with the Humans, when the call came through about a fire in the landing bay. By the time they reacted, the report had been modified to include the escape of the Gracilian ship. The aliens knew the significance of the report. They called a security detail to locate the dark matter components, already anticipating the answer. If the Humans could so effortlessly escape the huge starship, then they would be fully capable of recovering the dark matter collector and cubes before doing so.
A moment later their suspicions were confirmed. They ordered an immediate pursuit.
They waited to feel the tell-tale sign of the ship entering a gravity-well, when suddenly the internal gravity failed instead. The pair grabbed onto the edges of their seats to keep from floating away. Then the comm sounded. The engines were malfunctioning. Gravity wells could not be created. Emergency crews were working on the problem.
The suits knew the problem, even if the crew didn’t. They ordered a search of the engine compartments, with special attention paid to any foreign objects they should fine. None were to be touched until the big-wigs showed up to supervise the removal.
The starship would be operational soon and in pursuit of the Humans. The aliens decided was a good chance they would not continue to Navior; that was where MK had expected them to go initially. Instead, they would select a secondary location, someplace the company would not be expecting. That would be the smart move.
However, what worried the MK reps the most was that the Humans would undoubtedly sell the dark matter device to others; the female had mentioned her intent to do just that. The suits knew there were more buyers and that was why MK acted first—and proactively—by having the device stolen from the Gracilians.
Their supervisors would not be happy with this recent turn of events. The white suits would set course for a local MK facility to await instructions. The vast network of company contacts would locate the Humans, and then they would react.
Humans! Damn Humans!
6
Even with the gravity drive working, it still took Sherri and Copernicus three days to reach the planet Navior, all the while looking over their shoulders for any sign of an approaching MK starship. They were both confused and relieved when no following signal was detected. Where did they go? The white suits knew Navior was their destination. And with a marginally-operational starship and a cargo of valuable dark matter paraphernalia, it made sense that they would want to unload the hot commodity as soon as possible. Navior was the only planet in the area where that could happen.
Sherri and Copernicus were exhausted by the time they shut down the engines of their stolen starship in a spaceport outside the city of Prannis. Bowing to Sherri’s cautious nature, the city was on the opposite side of the planet from the main concentration of Cartel activity, just in case some of Coop’s old buddies were still hanging around.
The gravity on Navior was lighter than that of the starship and the air thinner, yet rich in oxygen. As a result, they had an extra spring in their steps, in spite of their weariness. As they prepared to exit the ship, each wore an MK-17 flash weapon. Everyone on Navior was armed and they would look out of place if they weren’t as well. And even though they had two of the fancy new MK-88X weapons they’d taken from Maris-Kliss, they left them on the ship. They would attract too much attention. Their trusty ’17s would have to do.
The plan was to find a CW café and make calls to the other four buyers who had been interested in the dark matter collector. Sherri had found their names and contact coordinates while hacking the Gracilian computers after they’d already accepted the contract from Maris-Kliss. Now she had the links in a datapad, ready to cut another—and possibly—better deal.
Before leaving the ship to go in search of a CW communications facility, they scrounged together all the money they could find. It wasn’t much. Sherri was unemployed and Copernicus had only received one paycheck since arriving on the research station as their full-time gravity drive mechanic. Before that, times had even been worse.
After all their bank accounts on Earth were seized, the pair was left with no reserves and barely enough to keep a roof over their heads. Sherri had no marketable skills, having never finished her studies to become a veterinarian. And how could she? She had been abducted by the alien Klin twenty years ago and cast into a strange galaxy to fend for herself. After that she’d spent time as an alien assassin and then as an on-again, off-again member of Adam’s intergalactic team of troubleshooters and reluctant heroes. At one point, she took a break from traveling the stars and married a real estate broker from San Francisco’s South Bay area. But she grew restless and ran off once again to join Adam’s wild circus.
Copernicus Smith was another story. He had worked for a super-secret agency of the Human government as a deep-cover spy, using the legend as a starship repairman to gain valuable intel on the various criminal cartels operating within the Kidis Frontier. Even though it was just a cover, Coop was a very good mechanic, and he parlayed his reputation as a less-than-reputable character to find work repairing cartel starships that no honest company would touch. It was a pretty good gig, until he got the assignment to blackmail Adam and Riyad into stealing a newly discovered alien artifact. One thing lead to another and his next assignment involved selling the two Humans to the Klin as a means of tracking the aliens to one of their hidden Colony Ships. The mission was a success—sort of--but that was another story.
While on Earth after the Klin war—and counting all the money he and Sherri didn’t have—Coop began to put out feelers for mechanic work, eventually landing the job at the Incus research facility. It didn’t pay well and the facility was located in the middle of nowhere. But they were desperate. He and Sherri were required to live aboard the station, which suited them fine. They didn’t have anywhere else to go…which wasn’t exactly true.
By then Adam had taken possession of the huge Klin Colony Ship and offered them a place to stay. But considering the added cost of running the station with them aboard, as well as the fact that Coop and Adam would be in the same place, Sherri encouraged her current boyfriend to take the job on the distant research station. She was looking for a break, a new start without all the drama.
Of course that was before they discovered what the scientists were researching on the station. Dark matter collectors and generators; pretty fascinating stuff, especially when she got wind of the money the Incus—and their brains, the Gracilians—where being offered for the technology. And when the aliens turned down all the offers that’s when they heard from Maris-Kliss. If the Gracilians weren’t interested in letting this wondrous new technology out to the galaxy, then Sherri and Coop would help MK do it. It only seemed right. And for three-quarters of a million credits, why not?
Everything had gone smoothly, up until they were in space and bolting back to the galaxy. Then two hours out from the station, the engines shut down for the first time. After that, it was
almost every two hours like clockwork. Coop figured he’d gotten a total of twenty hours sleep during the eighteen days before they met up with the MK starship, after that, maybe another six hours or so. He was like the walking dead when he and Sherri entered a CW comm cafe to rent a station.
Continuous Wormhole communications was all the rage these days. Having been invented by the Klin ten years before, it allowed for instantaneous links between stations for up to an hour, before the natural movement of the galaxy broke the connection. But that was much better than how it used to be. The technology was still spreading across the galaxy, with nearly every starship equipped with the system. However, it wasn’t as wide-spread on the planets of the Kidis Frontier. Sure, large land-based centers had CW comms, but homes seldom did; it was far too expensive. So in every community there were CW cafes set up where individuals could rent time to make interstellar calls. Being as far out along the outer rim of the galaxy, there weren’t a lot of public facilities on Navior, with just a handful in the city of Prannis.
“The system is down,” the native clerk announced as soon as the Humans walked in.
Sherri shook her head. She had a good idea why. Although separating the dark matter components had worked on the gravity drive, it didn’t help with their CW comm. The system was affected more by subtle changes in the curvature of space around the ship, something dark matter played havoc with. The system remained down during the entire trip from the station to Navior. And now it appeared the DMC was also affecting local CW comms.
“Is there another facility nearby?” she asked, curious how far the influence reached.
“Three ribbons to the north…but they are down as well. This happens sometimes.”
“How long ago did your system go down?”
“About two local hours ago.” That confirmed it. That was about the time they landed.
“Are your normal comm links still working?” Coop asked the clerk.
“Yes.”
“May we make a link to a CW facility in a nearby city? It’s very important that we complete our communications.”
“We have an affiliated facility in Annador.”
“Where is that?”
“Fifty miles to the east.”
Coop’s embedded translation device converted the local units of distant into miles. That wasn’t too far, although they had very little money for a fifty mile trip and to make the calls they needed to.
“Can you check with them to see if their system is active?”
The clerk did and it was; a moment later Sherri and Coop were rushing down the streets of Prannis heading for the tube-train station and the cheapest fare they could find to Annador.
On the train, Sherri grew more nervous. They had at least four links to make, each to powerful entities located throughout the galaxy, and that was assuming they could reach them. That would cost money, and depending on the length of the negotiations, even more. And then they had to return to Prannis and the ship. It was going to be tight.
They arrived in Annador by mid-afternoon and found the CW café. They would be charged by the link, not the time. CW links could only last an hour at the most, so whether they talked for ten minutes or an hour, it was the same cost. They entered a secure comm booth and Coop programmed in the first coordinates. They would keep the links to audio only, not only to protect their identity, but also to save money. Audio links cost less that video comms.
The first link was to the Fazon company, the largest manufacturer of cold fusion reactors in the galaxy. They had heard of this new dark matter energy source and had contacted the Gracilians, before receiving the same summary rejection as MK. However, they weren’t as aggressive as the weapons maker. That was why Copernicus and Sherri would concentrate on energy companies, although they had to contact Xan-fi. They made the long-barrel weapons, the result of an agreement reached centuries ago between them and Maris-Kliss. MK would make handguns, Xan-fi larger weapons. The accommodation worked well on the surface, yet both companies were anxious to infringe upon the territory of the other. The other major weapons companies were on Earth and Incus. Neither of them honored any agreement with their competitors.
As it turned out, the contact links they had for the prospective bidders were private numbers and answered immediately. The companies knew the potential for dark matter technology and were anxious to speak with the two thieves.
Sherri nearly peed her pants when the first offer was made by Fazon. Coop didn’t believe his ears and asked twice for clarification before acknowledging the bid. Thirty million Juirean credits—and this was just the opening salvo. And they were going to turn the DMC over to MK for a measly three-quarters-of-a-million credits….
They knew they couldn’t accept the first offer; that would have been foolish. So they essentially placed the Fazon rep on hold and used another link to contact the next name on the list.
An hour later, Coop was still on the line and Sherri was getting frustrated, not with Coop, but with the fact that here she was counting pennies as they were negotiating what was now a sixty-million credit deal. The irony didn’t escape her.
It was obvious now that they couldn’t conclude the negotiations with the credits they had available. If they did they could be leaving millions on the table, all for the lack of a few hundred credits in their pocket. Sherri called it quits, telling Coop they had to get back to the ship and find something—anything—they could sell to come up with the thousand credits she estimated they would need to complete the negotiations.
With four very angry and desperate bidders insisting on an answer, Copernicus and Sherri apologized profusely, saying they would call back in a few hours, six at the most. They left the café and returned to the tube-train station, arriving back in Prannis with barely twelve Juirean credits in their pocket.
The spaceport was small and therefore had a series of blast baffles in the field so more ships could be packed in closer. The pair of overwhelmed and exhausted Humans made their way through the maze toward their stolen ship, almost too tired to realize how close they were to making the score of a lifetime. They needed money, even if they had to sell the ship’s fuel module to get it.
They turned a corner and entered the pad-section where the ship was kept. Or at least they thought it was the right place. Coop checked the number on his ticket; it matched the huge alien numbers on the concrete blast wall. This was the place…but the ship was gone.
In a panic, the pair ran to the control center and the alien on duty. He was a native Naviorean, a bulky creature with brown skin, eyes on stalks and a tail.
“Where is the ship in stall forty-four?” Coop barked at the alien.
The native recoiled from the intensity of the question, frowned and then checked his logs. “It received permission to lift sixty-eight minutes ago.”
“Who requested the lift?”
“I cannot reveal that—”
Copernicus had the native by the collar and pulled over the counter before he could finish his sentence. Although the alien was taller, he bent like a reed in the wind when Coop leaned in closer. “Answer me!”
“You should not be doing this, Human. It is against protocol.”
“That was my ship and I did not give permission for it to be taken.”
“I differ. The ship is registered to the Incus government, not to you.”
Coop tightened his grip on the alien’s collar, causing him to choke and barely able to breath. “Don’t play games with me. Who took it?”
“The Cartel,” the clerk confessed. “The Cartel ordered it taken.”
“Which one?”
“The Gradis. They are strong on Navior. When they make a request, we oblige. It is what is done here. Please do not kill me.”
Copernicus released him. He knew how ingrained the Gradis Cartel was on the planet. He couldn’t blame the clerk.
“I know several of the leaders of the Cartel,” Coop told the native. “Who gave the order?”
The alien hesi
tated.
“A little late to be coy; answer me.”
“It was Frandon, Frandon G’Bur. He leads the Cartel.”
Coop took a step back.
“Do you know him?” Sherri asked.
“I did, once. He was just a mid-level soldier at the time, headstrong, but smart. He leads the Cartel now?” he asked the clerk.
The alien nodded emphatically.
“Where did they take the ship?”
“I am sorry, Human, but the Cartel does not file flight plans. I have no knowledge.”
“Is their headquarters still in Vansis?”
“Yes.”
Coop turned to Sherri. “I know the landing field there; I’ve been there a dozen times. There would be no reason to take the ship off planet. That’s probably where they took it.”
He turned back to the nervous native. “You would be wise not to mention any of this conversation to anyone. Besides the fact that you’ve revealed confidential Cartel information to us, we will also come back and rip your body to shreds if we find you have alerted the Cartel to what we’ve said. You know we can do it.”
“I know of Humans. I will be quiet. You came, saw your ship was gone, and then left. You will leave, will you not?”
Coop smiled. “As soon as you give us all the credits you have on you, plus the location of your transport. We will be borrowing it for a while. Any objections?”
There were none.
7
“Still nothing?” Adam said, frustrated. It had been eight days since he left the Colony Ship and still no hits on the facial-recognition CW search.
“Correct, and the Gracilians report that negotiations have resumed as of yesterday,” Jym reported.
“They have? How?” Adam asked.
“Unknown, yet obviously not by video link.”