Bishop's Gambit Omnibus

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Bishop's Gambit Omnibus Page 8

by Jeremy Fabiano


  I chuckled and pressed a button on the console to transmit to the others. “Going to take this thing out to test. Can you pull the synapse cabling?”

  “Will do,” said Steve. “Good luck.” I watched him walk past the window. “All clear.”

  “Thanks,” I said.

  I pulled back on the control lever, and the ship lifted off the platform with ease. “Wow, firmware updates make a huge difference…”

  “I will keep my passive-aggressive comments to myself for the time being and allow you to concentrate on not getting us killed,” said Sami.

  “Relax. I flew the Grey Wolf, didn’t I?”

  “Yes, but the Grey Wolf takes a year to turn. This scrap heap will still turn in an instant and smash us into a bulkhead due to your lack of expertise.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence. Would you like to fly?”

  “Not particularly. But I can if you don’t feel up to the task.”

  “I got it. I need the practice anyways.”

  “Indeed.”

  I shook my head. I don’t have time to argue with a computer. I carefully guided the Gilmore out of the docking bay and out into vacuum. I got a feel for the ship by trying several different maneuvers. “You know, it handles like a video game.”

  “It warms my data stores to know that you think the handling of our existence is akin to a child's play thing. Encouraging.” I rolled the controls to the right, flipping the ship in a full circle. “Is that your idea of a joke?”

  “Yup,” I said. “Did you find it amusing?”

  “Not in the least. This, however, is quite amusing.” The gravity shut off then turned back on. Upside down. My stomach went into my throat.

  “Nope,” I managed while keeping my breakfast where it belonged. “Not funny. Not one bit.”

  “Oh, I’m entirely amused. Watching you attempt to avoid regurgitating by swallowing constantly is interesting indeed. Did you know I can’t throw up?” The gravity switched to the left. Now, I was falling sideways.

  “Ugh. At least sideways isn’t as bad. You’ve made your point. Fix the gravity.”

  “Fly the ship.”

  “What?”

  “Fly the ship. Get used to the gravity being out of sorts.”

  “You’re a real dick, you know that?”

  “That’s Instructor Dick to you, meat-bag. Accelerating to maximum speed.” The ship lurched slightly. “Oh. Right. The S.S. Rustbucket. I am not sure why I expected more…” Gravity switched to the right.

  “Dick.”

  “Instructor Dick. Crater.”

  “What?”

  “Crater! Pull up, dumbass!”

  I focused on the screen. Sure enough, a rather large lunar crater was floating up toward me at an alarming rate. I pulled back on the controls. The ship responded but not as quick as I’d have liked. I felt the dirt hit the ship through the seat. It didn’t feel bad, but a scrape was a scrape.

  “No hull damage detected. But for that…” Gravity went back upside down.

  “I hate you…”

  “Irrelevant. Negative reinforcement being used to teach you how to fly. Also will be strategically valuable in the event of a gravity malfunction. This could one day save your life as well as the lives of others in your care.

  “Fine, whatever.”

  “Excellent. Now, come about, then land in the crater.”

  “Aye-aye, Instructor Dick.”

  “Now you are progressing. Would you like me to change the gravity direction?”

  “No,” I said through gritted teeth as I gulped again. I will not be shown up by a program.

  “As you wish.”

  I landed the ship with minor issues. Even managed to not smash us into the ground. Gravity switched to normal, and I slammed into the bottom of my seat. The harness had been holding me in.

  “Excellent progress. There may be hope for you yet.”

  16

  “Thanks,” I said. “The gravity thing was uncalled for. You could have gotten us killed.”

  “Nonsense. Had you not been able to handle yourself, I would have intervened. Eventually. At the last second.”

  “I’m not surprised.”

  “Nor should you be. Now, what is the next part of your master plan?”

  “Well, for starters, this pile of scrap needs to get back to the Grey Wolf. Then we need to get on the colony ship and interface with it so we can see how bad the damage is.”

  There was a long hesitation before Sami finally responded. “You do realize that ship is massively larger than the Grey Wolf. Right? The sensory overload could damage your gray matter.”

  “Then it’s a good thing we’re having this conversation away from the others.”

  “Indeed,” said Sami.

  “So, what do we do then? I’ve already pushed myself as far as I can. It’ll take time to go the rest of the way.”

  “Quite accurate. At your rate of progression, it would be at least six months before you reach sixty percent.”

  “Ten percent per month? Are you serious?”

  “With extreme discomfort, I might add.”

  “So, we need a way to buffer it…”

  “What do you have in mind?” asked Sami.

  “Well, let’s say, hypothetically, we networked the colony ship with the Grey Wolf. Would we be able to isolate sections of the ship from my view?”

  “In theory, yes. However, you would need a powerful enough transmitter. A signal strong enough to carry the bandwidth would be detected.”

  “What if the transmitter only sent the system we wanted to see? That’d reduce the bandwidth. Could just be lunar noise they’re hearing.”

  “Hmmm. Yes. That could work. Now we just need this magic transmitter. Is it in your ass?”

  “Funny. We have the colony ship. We just need to get you inside somehow. If we dock the Gilmore and have them refuel it, would you have enough time to hack their comms and insert some sort of subroutine into their system?”

  “Well, I’ll be,” said Sami. “You really can think outside the box. Yes. That may just work.”

  “Good. Now we just need to pretend to be a couple of green-eared cargo haulers. Are you able to talk to the handler on comms?”

  “Of course. I like where this is going.”

  “Me too. Let’s get back to the freighter.”

  The Gilmore touched down on the docking pad with ease. “I think I’m starting to get the hang of this.”

  “Indeed,” said Sami. “With a little more practice, you’ll be a decent pilot in no time.”

  “Patch me through to Steve.”

  “Connected.”

  “Steve, we need a job.” I tidied up my equipment.

  “Job?” he asked, out of breath. “What kind of job?”

  An odd sound echoed in the background. “What was that?”

  “Uh, I think Anne bumped into something hard.” Muffled giggles followed..

  “Okay, anyways. We need to get the Gilmore docked to the colony ship and connected to their network. Doesn’t matter what kind of job, just anything that gets us on board for a few minutes.”

  “I'll see what I can do,” he said. “Give me five minutes.”

  The connection went silent before I could respond. I occupied myself with more ship maintenance for fifteen minutes before Steve called back.

  “I've got something promising, but it's risky.”

  “Everything we're doing is risky. What is it?”

  He hesitated. “Water run…”

  “I see. Oh well, what choice is there? Grab your tools,

  and meet me on the Strider. I'll need your help to move the water tanks to the Gilmore.”

  It took Steve and I a couple of hours, but we managed to strip the water tanks from the Strider and install them on the Gilmore.

  “It isn’t the best fit, but it’ll hold,” said Steve.

  “As long as they don’t let go of the bulkheads, it’ll work.”

  “You sure about
this?”

  “Unless you have a better idea?” Steve said nothing. “We have to get on board. A water shipment from an old ship that’s been sold more times than anyone knows? That shouldn’t raise any suspicions as to who is on board.”

  “It’s crude, but it should work,” said Sami from the console speaker. “Bishop is right. This ship has changed hands enough times that it is the perfect vessel for this to work.”

  I frowned. “How are we going to get down to Earth to fill the tanks?”

  “Just fly out,” said Steve. “If we go around the far side of the moon and head straight for the planet, they shouldn’t even notice us.” He hesitated for a moment. “When I spoke to my friend, he mentioned that water rations have gotten stricter. The government is mandating quarter rations now. They’re desperate, by the sound of things. Once we show up with several thousand gallons of fresh water, they won’t be asking too many questions. No one will turn down water at this point. They’ll pay better too. The government, however, will not take kindly to that.”

  “We’ll have to be careful.”

  “Agreed,” said Sami. “This could work for your benefit, as well as be a hindrance. It will definitely distract the powers that be and focus attention on the Gilmore and its crew.”

  “Will you be able to interface with the colonial network while we’re transferring the cargo off and refueling?”

  “It will be tight, but yes. It should work out.”

  Steve frowned. “I can’t think of a better idea at the moment. This is the best plan we have and the best chance of getting on board without sounding the alarm.”

  “Let’s make it work,” I said. I transferred some of the fuel from the Gilmore to the Grey Wolf.

  “What’re you doing?” asked Steve.

  “We need to buy time. If the tank’s near full when we dock, the refueling process won’t take long.”

  “Just make sure you’re low after you get back and not during ascent. Otherwise, you’ll burn up in the atmosphere.”

  “Half a tank should do it, I think. Sami?”

  “Correct. Based on the tank sizes, the weight of the ship, specific thrust, and about three hundred other variables, half of the fuel capacity should suffice to land, extract the water, and escape the atmosphere. You should end up with about fifteen percent capacity remaining.”

  “Perfect. That’ll take a while to fill up. And if we blow the profits on refueling, it’ll make us look more legit too.”

  “Okay, I think I see what you’re up to now. I’ll need to contact a few acquaintances before we land to make sure the right people are there to greet us.”

  “Makes sense. Just be sure no one rats us out.”

  “Of course.” Steve grinned smugly as he walked off the Gilmore.

  “This will still be dangerous,” said Sami.

  “I know.”

  “You did not seem to give Steve room for doubt.”

  “I didn’t want him to worry.”

  “I see. So, you lied to him.”

  “Only technically. And for his own good.” I closed the hatch and fired up the engines.

  “Ahhhh, you’re leaving him behind.”

  “Yeah…” I guided the Gilmore out of the docking bay.

  “Incoming comms message from Steve.”

  “Noted.” I shoved the levers all the way forward, and the tiny ship lurched as it accelerated.

  “He will likely be rather upset.”

  “Mmhmm.”

  “It doesn’t bother you?”

  “Don’t care. There’s no reason to risk him as well. This is my plan. Worst-case scenario, he and Anne take the Grey Wolf and settle down somewhere. If this fails, it’ll only be me that dies.”

  “Us, actually.”

  “Us. Sorry.”

  “So,” said Sami. “What's your great plan for dealing with the Sentinels? After all, this ship lacks anything resembling weapons...”

  “I thought we could open the hatch and throw stuff at them. That count as a plan?”

  “Hardly. Though it may prove entertaining. At least until we are obliterated by static lance blasts.”

  “Honestly, I haven't accounted for that. Mostly because I'm hoping to sneak down there and back up before they realize we are there.”

  “I see. Dealt much with Sentinels?”

  “Seventeen water runs. Only two times we had to fight.”

  “Excellent. Perhaps we will survive this after all.”

  “Angle the nose upward,” nagged Sami. “You want the flat part of the ship into the wind at a perpendicular angle.”

  “I'm trying, asshole! The controls are being sluggish.”

  “You'd best figure it out. Reentry is no laughing matter.”

  I pulled the controls back and managed to get the Gilmore flat-bottomed as we hit the atmosphere like a blazing comet. The ship began to shake and vibrate. Outside the window, flames curled upward around the ship.

  “Just hold on for a few more seconds…” said Sami. The ship swayed left and right as I fought the controls. If I didn't keep the angle just right, the outer hull would melt away in seconds. The bottom of the Gilmore had special plating just for this purpose.

  “Is it supposed to be fighting me so much?” I yelled over the roar of the ship.

  “Definitely not. The port stabilizer is malfunctioning.”

  “So I'm hurtling through the atmosphere with only the starboard stabilizer?”

  “Yes. Now quit complaining and concentrate. I will not be able to assist. The synapse cables for the navigation system have apparently melted.”

  “Great!” I yelled. This is getting worse by the second. If I don’t do something, I’m as good as dead. “I’m open to suggestions!”

  “Damn it, Bishop. I am an A.I. construct, not a pilot. Figure it out. I have zero access to the ship’s navigation at the moment.” With only one stabilizer, the ship started to corkscrew in the atmosphere. “If you do not get this spin under control, the heat is going to rip the Gilmore to bits.”

  “What am I supposed to do? It’s barely responding to the controls!”

  “Bishop. Quit fighting the controls. Go with them. If the ship wants to spin, push it in that direction. When it circles, push the other direction. Keep repeating that until you regain control.”

  I did as he said. The gravity plates started switching on and off as we hit the Earth’s gravity field at different angles. Ugh. “It’s a good thing you made me learn to fly with messed-up gravity.”

  “Indeed. Keep doing what you are doing. It appears to be helping.”

  “At least something is.”

  “If you’d like me to stop talking, I can. Otherwise, shut up and do as you are told.”

  “Yes, Mom.”

  “Not amused.”

  “Not dead,” I countered.

  The Gilmore spun a few more times, but reversing the controls was definitely making progress. The air thickened, and the flames began to die down. My hands shook and the ship shuddered, translating my jerky movements into action.

  “Perhaps you should breathe a bit.”

  “Yeah,” I said, exhaling the breath I’d been holding for who knew how long. “We made it.”

  “Well done.”

  “Thanks, I think.”

  With the Gilmore finally stable in the air, I looked for a suitable landing area. The landscape flew by at a dizzying rate below me. Off to the right, a glimmering lake reflected the setting sun. This should work.

  I set the ship down on a small grassy clearing next to the lake. Green trees stretched as far as the eye could see. I untethered myself from the flight seat and opened the cargo hatch. As I stepped outside, twigs and gravel crunched under my boots.

  “Sami, do you think we’ll ever live here again?”

  “It’s uncertain.” Sami’s voice echoed off the landscape as it was broadcasted from the ship’s loudspeakers. “The possibility is quite remote, but your species has performed miracles in the past.”
/>   “I hope it’s possible. I like space and all, but this…this is beautiful. Perfection.”

  “If I might ask, what makes it so appealing?”

  “The serenity of it all. There’s no rush. No constant danger. And everything is green. The air isn’t recycled. It’s fresh. Every surface isn’t metallic gray and boring.”

  “I fail to understand. But perhaps that is because I lack the proper sensors.”

  “Probably.” I moved back inside the ship to unspool the water hoses. “It’s a shame you can’t experience it like I experience the neural interface.”

  “Quite. I would have liked to see your world as you do…”

  “Maybe one day, someone will invent some sort of new interface that’ll let you see through human eyes.”

  “I would quite enjoy that, I think. Meanwhile, you have water to gather.”

  “Yeah. They’re both dreams worth fighting for. Don’t you think?”

  “Indeed. Perhaps one day.”

  I hauled the large hoses to the lakeshore and tossed the ends in. As they hit the surface, the filters splashed water onto my shoes. For a moment, I’d considered jumping in and going for a swim. Then I remembered I didn’t know how. And the Sentinels would be here in a few hours...

  “Sami,” I called. “Start up the pumps.” I heard the whine of the pump motors spinning up. The hoses snaked and flexed as the water pressure built. It’d only take about two hours to fill up the tanks. “Thanks.”

  “Of course,” he replied from the Gilmore’s external speaker. Well, at least that still worked. “Will you be repairing the ship while the tanks fill?”

  “Yeah. Won’t have a choice if we want to get back into space.”

  “Indeed. Might I suggest you start with the synapse cabling and patching the heat resistant plating? That seems to be the highest priority item at the moment.”

  “Makes sense.” I broke out the toolboxes and spare parts and began to dismantle the stabilizer. “I don’t see anything wrong with it. Any details?”

  “Scanning. Yes. three centimeters behind the armor plating. Remove the access panel to your right. You will find that the seal has degraded. The heat from reentry likely melted the cabling.”

 

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