Space Trader (Galactic Axia Adventure) (7 page)

Although radically different from each other, both shared a desire for knowledge and an explorer’s desire to know what lay just beyond what could be seen or sensed. Much effort was expended before they were effectively able to communicate—the large lumbering Horicon and the small, nimble Jibbah. Sharing knowledge expanded their reach, and the influence of both birthed a strong alliance. The Code of the Jibbah was the result, and succeeding generations followed its guiding precepts.

Piaffè again checked his navigational settings. Satisfied, he went back to his fiber-filled cocoon and curled up. On the hull of his small ship, tiny servos adjusted the lines of the transparent sail of his ship. Reacting to radiation in wavelengths still undetected by man, the sail tightened and the ship surged ahead at a speed that would have astonished any observer.

But here on the rim of the galaxy the Jibbah called home, there were no observers. Even if there were observers, they would have had trouble detecting the small, dull colored ship with its transparent sail. That was as it was intended, for there were also dangers out here that the Jibbah wanted to avoid. They and their friends the Horicon had witnessed the rise of the race they called Red-tails.

∞∞∞

It is said that old habits can save us. This is no less true on the surface than it is in space. The moment the warning klaxon sounded, several things happened at once and all out of habit.

First, Ian literally leaped from the stool where he was seated to the locker holding his pressure suit. At the same time he shouted “slow!” triggering another automated system to slow the
Cahill Express
to a relative crawl compared to its former speed. This old trick had proven itself to the trader more than once. It allowed more time in case the trouble was in front of the ship, which was most likely. In the less likely case that the problem was coming from another direction, it would throw off the aim of the attacker. Of course, one assumed that any unannounced appearance would be hostile. That was how you lived to a ripe old age in space.

The second thing to happen in that instant was that additional systems snapped online. Besides the most obvious one of weaponry, there was the equally important one of power.

Like almost all ships, the
Cahill Express
was powered by the same drive system that had launched the Axia thousands of generations ago. Powering that was the fusion system more commonly referred to as the green box.

One of the modifications that Ian had made to the
Express
was the addition of two auxiliary green boxes. If push came to shove in a fight, neither weapons nor propulsion would suffer from a lack of power. He could both run and fight. For good measure, one of the extra power sources was routed directly to the repulsion field protecting the ship. Overkill maybe but Ian was still alive and that was all the proof he needed.

The last thing to happen automatically when the klaxon sounded was a double sweep by the sensors, particularly in the direction of whatever had tripped the alarm. Ian just hated to be caught by surprise. Combine the extra sensor sweep with the sudden slowing of the ship and it would give him a detailed vector on whatever it was that had tripped the sensor alarm. If it was an incoming ship or object, such as a torpedo, the relativistic change put the returns farther apart on the detector screen. This told Ian more accurately where the object was coming from and if it had adjusted itself to his sudden deceleration.

Safely ensconced in the clear form-fitting suit, Ian strapped back into the control chair and assessed the situation. There was nothing there. Frowning, Ian hit the switch and performed yet another sweep. Still nothing. Out through the front windows of the
Cahill Express
only shone the light of unfamiliar stars. He was only part way into the first zone.

On a hunch, Ian brought the ship to a standstill. Spinning the axis ball, he flipped the ship end over end and started accelerating back along his previous track. Still nothing. He was beginning to think he had an equipment malfunction when the klaxon sounded its warning note again. Ian stopped the ship instantly and performed another immediate sweep. This time he found something.

Just at the edge of his sensors, he received a faint return. Ian carefully swung the
Cahill Express
around and headed toward it. Consequently, the return grew larger and stronger on the detector screen. Still, he couldn’t see anything through the front windows of the ship. He grew even more suspicious.

The klaxon blared again as a second object detached itself from the first on the detector screen and headed straight for his ship. Ian immediately reversed the
Express
.

Glancing out the front windows now that the klaxon had sounded, he thought he saw the flash of something in the distance. It was gone now but his sensors were still picking up a second return. It was acting rather strange in its flight behavior. Although heading straight at his ship, it was moving too slowly to be a regular torpedo.

On another hunch, Ian reversed course, again matching the speed of the incoming object. The return on the detector screen didn’t speed up or change its direction. Slowing the ship a bit, he let whatever it was creep ever closer. Except for that one brief flash of light, the only thing Ian saw through the windows was the star-studded darkness of space.

The klaxon sounded again and a third return appeared on the detector screen. This one was directly behind the
Express
on a collision course. Ian snapped the axis ball around and vectored the ship away on a tangent from the course lines of the two unknown objects. Neither reacted to the change and it was then that Ian saw that the third object was actually moving in the same course and direction as the other return, only slower. It had been the movement of the
Express
itself that had made it appear to be moving toward him.

A bright flash appeared again and Ian noticed the more rapid of the two objects change its heading. However, it only made it through part of the turn when it seemed to slow again. Now it appeared to be just drifting in space. Ian thoughtfully watched the action of the two moving returns.

Ian brought the
Express
to a full stop. Neither of the two moving returns changed direction or speed. Using his throttle and axis controls, he moved the
Cahill Express
toward the more recent of the moving objects and set up a course that would intercept it.

Ian watched the return grow closer and closer. It had changed neither speed nor course since that last turn. He slowed the
Express
and then reached over and turned on his outside floodlights. Nothing changed on the detector screen, except the object would now pass in front of the
Cahill Express
instead of intersecting it. Ian waited and watched.

Out front a long cylindrical object came into view in the arc of the floodlights. Adjusting the controls, Ian moved the
Express
alongside the object, moving sideways parallel but drawing no closer. Reaching to his side, Ian grabbed an optical magnifier. He zoomed in on the object and studied it.

“Well, I’ll be a monkey’s uncle!” Ian looked the object over. It was clearly a missile of some sort, though he didn’t recognize the particular type. Instead of fins on the rear, he could see small steering jets. Some of these were still angled to turn the missile toward him. Some vague warning tickled his mind and he laid aside the optical magnifier and grabbed the controls.

Ian backed the ship away from the strange missile. While he was backing away, the missile exploded but the
Express
was far enough away that Ian did not feel the shockwave. The missile clearly had some sort of proximity trigger that sensed his ship when it got close enough. A simple but effective design.

“Whew! That was close!”

He glanced again at the detector screen and noted that it still registered both the stationary object and the second one still moving. Adjusting his controls, Ian vectored the
Express
toward the second moving object. From its trajectory, he figured this had been what triggered his alarm when it was fired at his passing ship. Ian didn’t like the idea of weapons systems that arbitrarily fired at passing ships without warning.

The
Cahill Express
crept toward the moving object, this time from behind. If it were another missile, the proximity trigger would be least effective toward the missile’s tail. At least that was his theory.

Soon the tail of the missile appeared ahead. Ian could see it clearly through the optical magnifier. Satisfied, he backed off a safe distance starboard of the drifting missile.

“Can’t have that thing hanging around.”

Ian activated the control panel for one of the small side ray turrets. Taking careful aim, he neatly sliced the missile in half. The explosive must have been in the rear instead of having the warhead in the front. It exploded in a giant ball of fire.

The front half continued to float along its original trajectory. Ian decided to go give it a look. He eased the
Cahill Express
forward until the front half of the disabled derelict missile floated within easy view of his ship. His floodlights lit it clearly.

The first thing Ian noticed was that the missile was obviously designed for space-borne operation. There were no fins or ailerons as would be necessary on a missile meant for use in an atmosphere. In fact, there were odd projections all along the front that would cause drag and instability if it were flying through an atmosphere. Whoever made it had clearly designed it for this environment. Beyond that, however, there was nothing familiar about it.

After scanning it with everything at his disposal, Ian decided to bring it aboard for further study. Using a grappling arm, he snagged the remains of the missile and placed it in an airlock reserved for deep space retrievals. Securing the ship, he hurried to the back of the ship and cycled the missile head through the airlock. Using a second grappling arm, he brought it out and secured it to a worktable. It was approximately twenty feet long and about six feet in diameter. Satisfied that it wouldn’t move around, he locked down his equipment and returned to his control chair.

“Now, let’s go look at where you came from,” he said aloud as he activated the main controls of the ship. The scan return of what he assumed to be a stationary weapons platform that had launched the missiles was still on his long-range detector screen. Vectoring the
Cahill Express
toward the object, Ian warily watched for additional missiles. The ship moved closer and closer while Ian could almost feel his scalp crawl.

Suddenly, there was a flash of light and another missile launched from the platform up ahead. This one, however, didn’t get far. After sputtering for a few seconds, its rocket engine died, leaving it to drift on its last heading. When it was clear of both the object and the
Express
, Ian destroyed it with the turret ray.

That taken care of, he again moved the
Express
closer to the unknown object, passing much closer than before. The
Cahill Express
was almost on top of the platform before Ian saw it dimly in the wash of his floodlights. He let out a long, low whistle. He edged the ship closer so he could get a better look.

Reaching over to his communications control panel, he flipped on a recorder to make a visual record of what he was seeing. Floating ahead of him in space was some sort of automated weapons platform. It was coated in non-reflective material and looked like it had been out here a very long time. It showed signs of damage from space debris and possibly even battle damage. He could clearly see racks for dozens of missiles. He could tell by the shine on their racks where the three that had been launched at him had hung. However, the platform still had one missile left. Ian could not surmise why it had not launched at him on his final approach to the platform.

He circled the platform warily, careful to keep his distance. He was also careful not to get in line with that last missile just in case it decided to launch. It was an ancient design, at least as far as Ian was concerned, but its purpose was recognizable enough.

Usually as part of their initial reach into space, many civilizations go through a stage of heightened hostility, be it to other factions on the surface of their planet or as protection against whatever they perceived to be dangerous beyond the unknown. Almost all societies did it. Even Galactic Axia in its prehistory had been a bit paranoid.

Politicians preferred the word cautious, but a rose by any other name
, thought Ian.

The platforms varied in size or shape, but their menacing presence always meant a warning to the unwary. Ian knew this from his study of history. But two things were out of sorts here. First was the fact that the platform was still here. Most commonly, as civilizations grew and matured, they disassembled their protective platforms. In most cases, this stage only lasted a hundred or so years. This unit had been out here much longer than that.

The second thing out of sorts jumped out to Ian when he took a moment to reflect upon it. These platforms were always placed in synchronized orbit around a planet. They may be few or many, depending on the advancement of the planet. Their weapons may be pointed out toward space or down toward the surface. In any case, you always found them in orbit. However, there was only one problem—there was no planet.

Chapter Six

Billions of bits of information surged through the processing system in less than a second. Yet for all this, not a sound was heard. To the mind behind the processing system, it was but a small drip plinking in the empty sink of possibilities. Yet for all the searching of his own vast stores of knowledge, Ert found nothing.

Again, he pondered. Doing what no other machine could do, Ert made a moral judgment. He must find the answer, and for that, he’d again have to sneak past the security systems the humans had installed. Interconnected across countless light-years of time and space were vast accumulations of material to be sifted and cross-referenced, all for one piece of information that might not be there at all.