The Horicon Experience (5 page)

“But what about the cost of running the fleets?” Delmar asked. “Aren’t the ships expensive to run?”

“The ships cost almost nothing to operate, thanks to the drive,” Robert said. “As for the cost of personnel, it really isn’t more expensive to have them up there than it is planet-side. Their wages and expenses are about the same no matter how you cut it.”

“There’s also the social benefit of the service,” Agnes added.

“What do you mean by social benefit?” Stan asked, perplexed. “Wouldn’t society be better served using the money to help people rather than paying troopers?”

“Since when did troopers stop being people?” Agnes responded. “What I’m saying is that the service provides a common unifying experience and standard for citizens from all of the diverse planets in the Axia. Second are the educational benefits, along with the service being a vehicle for the commonalty of culture you’ll find throughout the Axia.”

Before Stan could answer, the loudspeaker announced the boarding call for the boy’s flight. They left the café and made their way to the boarding counter.

 “Well, I guess this is it,” said Delmar as he hugged Agnes.

Agnes surprised Stan by giving him a hug and kissing him on the cheek. “Whether you want it or not, you’re part of our family now,” she said. Stan choked up too much to respond.

“At least we’re on a civilian transport,” Delmar said. “No scrubbing floors this trip!” They all chuckled at the remark.

“Take care and write soon,” Robert said, giving the boys the service salute. They both returned it, right arms horizontal across their chests with palms down. Then they were out the door and up the ramp to the ship. Robert and Agnes watched while they boarded, and remained standing together as the ship lifted toward space.

∞∞∞

Aboard another ship in a distant star system, the crew hunched over their instruments, “How’s it going?” a supervisor asked.

“Nothing has changed, Chief,” replied the first trooper. “The emissions have continued at 12-minute intervals since we started.”

“Has the strength changed any?” the chief asked a second trooper.

“No, sir,” answered the trooper, his eyes still down scanning the detector in front of him. “I did notice that the signal varies in time with their planetary rotation.”

“That’s significant,” the chief commented. “Is the source still the same?”

“As far as we can tell, sir. It’s hard to be certain at this extreme range but it still appears to come from the original location on the surface.”

“Well, we can’t go any closer. At least for now,” the chief said. “Compile a report and get it to me as soon as you can.”

“Yes, sir,” the two troopers answered together. The chief walked back to his office, frustrated by the delays in the repair of the damaged scout, but now it seemed to work out for the best. He sat down and again reviewed the readings they had collated. A knock interrupted his efforts. Looking up, he saw the captain of the scout that had brought the original report. The man was smiling.

“I take it you have good news?” the chief queried.

“Yes, sir,” George Citti replied. “The crew chief said the repairs should be done within the hour.”

“Good,” said the chief, looking again at the report. “That should make you happy.”

“Yes sir.”

“You did a fine job getting that information to us, Captain Citti,” the chief said, looking back up from his copy of the report.

“Thank you, sir,” Citti answered.

“I should have the latest recordings soon, so check with me before you leave.”

“Yes, sir,” Captain Citti answered and excused himself.

The chief resumed his study. Although the debriefing officer had gone over the original report thoroughly, he still felt there was something missing. A backward planet just doesn’t leap-frog from early post-industrial locomotion to nuclear fusion to tractor beams and deep space sensors. Either these natives had suddenly developed a generation of geniuses, or there had to be some other explanation.

Again, he pondered all the reports. Not satisfied, he returned to the listening room. Leaving the first two troopers to their sensors, he sat down by a third who was working with the recording equipment.

“You completed the spectral analysis of the signals?” he asked the trooper on duty.

“No, sir,” answered the trooper as he looked up. “But I managed to get a partial one done on the first recordings. We’re getting too much signal distortion at this extreme range for me to separate it from background noise.”

“Well, give me what you’ve got,” the chief ordered.

The trooper handed him the sheet containing the spectral graph. He leaned back in his chair and studied the readout. There was something familiar about the frequencies. He just couldn’t put his finger on it.

After going over the spectral graph a third time, he had a hunch. Taking the readout with him, he headed for the main weapons station.  Entering the compartment, he noticed that his counterpart was on duty.

“Hey, Jack! I want to get your opinion on something.”

“Sure,” Jack replied as he pushed away from his monitor station. He waved for the chief to sit down in an empty chair near his own.

“Tell me if these frequency readings mean anything to you,” the chief said and handed the readout to his counterpart. The weapons chief studied the readout for a couple of minutes and frowned. Without a word, he stood and crossed the room to the files he kept of his tests on their own weapons. After a minute, he pulled out a smaller file that he had compiled.

A moment’s search yielded what he was looking for. Taking the readout the chief had brought, he took his own file and put the two together on a comparative reader. After adjusting the settings, he called his friend over.

“I thought that readout looked familiar,” he said, indicating the similarities. “Although your readout is incomplete, I think it’s a pretty good match for the record I have.”

“What do you make of it?” the chief asked.

“I don’t know where you got this readout, but I can say with reasonable certainty that it’s from Red-tail equipment.” The chief’s face turned ashen.

“May I have a copy of your record, including where you got it?” the chief asked.

“Sure,” answered Jack. “I can have it ready in about an hour.”

“Good,” replied the chief. “Have a runner bring it to my office as soon as it’s ready.”

“What’s the rush?”

“We just got this readout from a closed hostile planet that is incapable of producing it themselves,” the chief answered. “I want to send it and all the data we’ve gathered so far to the Director of Observation on Shalimar.”

Now it was Jack’s turn to look astonished. “I’ll have it for you in half an hour,” he said, revising his previous time estimate. “I’ll also do a comparative overlay with your readout.”

Thirty-five minutes later, the chief had all the reports he had requested on his desk. Looking at the overlay, it was unmistakable that the signals matched the readings of Red-tail equipment. He put all of the material into a second pouch just as Captain George Citti came into the room.

“Just in time,” he said to George. “Is your ship ready?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. I have a copilot standing by to go with you. His name is Akir Asmed. He’s storing his gear onboard now. Meet him at your ship and get this to Shalimar at your best speed.” He handed the additional priority pouch to George.

“Consider it done,” George said. He and the chief exchanged salutes and George headed for the docking bays.

Minutes later, the moorings were clear and the hastily repaired scout lifted in the docking bay. Without hesitation, it turned into open space. As soon as it was clear of the mothership, George vectored the ship toward Shalimar. With a shove of the throttle, the
Starduster
shot away in a flash of light.

Chapter Four

Shortly after takeoff, the transport ship settled into cruise mode and the captain allowed the passengers to wander around. Being on a civilian ship, Stan and Delmar had better appointments than the regular service transports. Stan looked out a view port and spotted an Axia three-man scout ship keeping pace with them.

“Looks like we have an escort,” he remarked, and pointed out the ship silhouetted against the stars.

“I’m not surprised,” responded Delmar. “This ship is armed but it never hurts to have extra help.”

It seemed like almost everywhere they went in the passenger cabin, the boys heard talk about the attack. Later they ran into the ship cargo master and got to talk about the fight and the ship in general.

“Yep, we spotted ’im just as he come ’round some debris,” the cargo master commented. “The captain swung us ’round so’s we’d present a smaller target. His first shot is what scorched our paint but we winged ’im with return fire. Then a heavy Axia cruiser showed up and run ’im off. They was still close ’nuff for us to see ’em torch that sucker! Quite a satisfyin’ sight!”

“We noticed that some of your passengers looked a bit scared,” remarked Delmar.

“You dern tootin’ they was scared!” the cargo master smiled. “We had us some first-timer greenhorns on board. Shook ’em up real good!”

“What kind of armament do you carry?” Stan asked.

“You’re troopers,” he said. “C’mon and I’ll show ya ’round.”

He led them out of the passenger compartment and into the areas reserved for the crew. He treated them to a detailed tour of the ship, from the heavy drive system in the rear to the navigation room over the nose. Although the captain wasn’t present, Stan and Delmar toured the bridge. The cargo master was obviously proud of the ship, and rightly so. She was a fine vessel.

“Here’s the main ray,” the man said as he led them into the main gunnery chamber. Neither guest was surprised that a civilian passenger transport was so heavily armed. Better to be able to protect yourself than to become a helpless victim.

“She’s a beaut!” remarked Stan, examining the equipment. “What’s her effective range?”

“The manufacturer rated it at ’bout ten thousand miles, but we’ve stung one or two of them red critters at twenty thousand in a pinch,” the cargo master answered proudly.

All too soon, the tour was over and they were back in the passenger compartment. Delmar and Stan strolled around and found their assigned cabin.

“Boy! It looks smaller than my old wall locker,” Delmar remarked as they squeezed in.

“It’ll do,” Stan said. He examined the fold-down bunks. “We only need it for a week.”

By taking turns in the small open space, they were able to get ready for bed. Soon they were in their bunks and found that sleep eluded them.

“Hey, Delmar,” whispered Stan. “You asleep?”

“Nah. Can’t sleep,” answered Delmar through a yawn.

“What are you thinking about?”

“I’m just wondering about next week. You know, school and all. This trip to Mica is going to be a lot different from my last time.”

“Yeah, I guess it will be,” agreed his friend. They both fell silent for a while.

“Stan?”

“Yeah?” came the muffled reply.

“You didn’t tell me what you’re thinking about?”

“The future I guess.”

“What do you mean the future?”

“Just how different things turned out so far from what I expected,” Stan replied.

Delmar realized his friend was still mourning his fiancé’s tragic death. “You still miss her, don’t you?” Delmar observed with sympathy. “She’d be proud of you, you know.”

“I know she would,” Stan said quietly.

“You are looking forward to school on Mica?” Delmar asked, trying to divert Stan’s thoughts away from the sad subject. He knew Stan had not yet come to terms with her unexpected loss.

“Of course I am,” Stan answered. “Who wouldn’t be?” Delmar thought he could hear the restrained grief in his friend’s voice.

“When we get some time, there are some friends I want you to meet,” Delmar said. “They’re good people.” Stan didn’t answer for a time.

“Who are they?” Stan finally asked, his voice somber and quiet.

“Just friends,” Delmar answered as he rolled over and faced the wall. “Some very good friends.”

∞∞∞

George Citti accelerated the
Starduster
gradually at first to test the repairs made to his ship. He certainly did not want to rupture a holding tank and become stranded between star systems, especially while on a priority mission to Shalimar. Even though he was confident the repair crew on the mothership knew their jobs, it was his ship, and he was ultimately responsible for it.

Shalimar, the capital planet of Galactic Axia, was as mysterious to George as it was distant. The home of the imperial family as well as the Ebilizer Institute, Shalimar is a hotbed of scientific discovery. Rarely does a month go by that some revolutionary breakthrough in space travel, medicine, communications, or archaeology doesn’t come out of there. He had heard rumor recently that an ancient civilization that predated the Axia by possibly two million years was uncovered on a planet named Horicon. But that was out of his league and he didn’t pay much attention to that sort of thing.

However, a rumor George did pay attention to concerned a new scout ship under development that would serve as both a combat and reconnaissance vehicle. He didn’t know the exact designation but the gossip he had heard around the pilot lounge on the mothership referred to the experimental ship as a fast attack recon, or F.A.R. No one he knew had actually seen one but rumors of ship development usually had a smidgen of truth to them.
Maybe I’ll get a look at one when I get there
, George thought hopefully.

“But then again, maybe not,” George muttered to himself, trying to be realistic.
It won’t be on display on a static pad.

“What’s that, Captain?” asked Akir Asmed, the copilot the commander had assigned to accompany George to Shalimar. “Did you say something to me, sir?”

“No, sorry,” George answered. “Just talking to myself.” Akir looked at George, a quizzical sideways glance.

“Don’t worry, Akir,” George said with a smile. “I’ve been on solitary watcher duty over that closed planet for so long that I’ve started talking to myself.”