My Other Car is a Spaceship (3 page)

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Authors: Mark Terence Chapman

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“And I
suppose you have some sort of stealth technology that keeps Earth radar and telescopes from picking up your ship.”

“Correct.”

“Naturally.”


Fourth, the Merchants’ Unity is an independent trade association, unaffiliated with any government, although many governments supply us with supplies and munitions to help us patrol the hyperspace routes. Fifth, there’s no ‘galactic police’ to do the job, because no civilization is rich enough to take on the task of patrolling not only its own borders but the spaceways as well.”

Running out of fingers on one hand, Kalen switched to the other and continued counting. “Sixth, the Unity is primarily funded by
tens of thousands of merchants whose businesses would be hurt by runaway piracy. Those depredations can also stunt the growth of young civilizations that would someday join the Unity and enlarge the markets for the members’ goods. All in all, it’s cheaper for the Unity to patrol the embargoed systems than to let piracy go unchecked. Seventh, your tales of alien abduction are grossly overblown, but there’s some truth to the stories. Slavers take thousands of people a year from small outposts and embargoed worlds—such as Earth—wherever they can get in and out quickly without confrontation. Over time, some escape and others are freed. Many gravitate to the Unity to help fight the slavers. That’s why there are humans on
Adventurer
. Does that answer most of your questions?”

Hal
agreed with a curt nod. “Most. So how many of these embargoed systems are there to patrol?”

Kalen held up a
hand and his eyes went unfocused. Then his body tensed and the relaxed atmosphere of the room evaporated.

“Very well.
I’ll be right there.” His gaze returned to Hal. He tapped his left temple. “My implant. I asked not to be interrupted except for urgent matters.”

“Problem?”

“Yes. Please excuse me for a few minutes. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Can I do anything to help?”

“No, not just yet. Please wait here.”

Hal frowned at the worried look on the other man’s face as he turned to leave.

 

 

“Order! Damn your eyes, this meeting will come to order!” The man shouting to be heard above the din glared at the worst offenders until the uproar subsided.

“That’s better. You all know why you’re here.” Tarl Penrod held the others’ eyes with his own, seeking agreement.

One by on
e,
those seated around the oval table nodded in return.

“Good. For the
last few years, the so-called Merchants’ Unity has kicked our asses all over this sector of the galaxy.”

He paused for the expected rumbling from the other thirteen pirate leaders assembled around the conference table aboard his ship,
Queen Anne’s Revenge
, before continuing. “You all know that’s true, despite what we tell our crews.”

“So?” a Chan’Yi Chieftain called out. “What do you propose we do about it?”

A chorus of agreement echoed in the empty cargo hold where the meeting was taking place.

“Before I answer that,” Penrod countered, “let me ask you all something: Are they
smarter
than we are?”

“Those dolts?” a yellow-orange Foren sneered. “Never!”

“Good. Are they
better equipped
than we are?”

“Not hardly,” the brick-red Sestran Captain snorted through nasal slits.

“I agree. Are they
fiercer fighters
than we are?”

The room erupted in laughter at the idea.

“Very well, then. That leaves only one possible reason why they’ve depleted our ranks by more than forty percent in the last two years: they’re
better organized
than we are.”

A quiet muttering was the only response from those around the table.

“The problem,” Penrod continued, “is simply one of coordination. We’re raiding individually, with no interaction except by accident. Sometimes two ships raid the same outpost one after the other and the second ship gets nothing out of it.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” a human Captain groused. “That’s happened to me more than once. What a waste of planning, effort, and fuel!”

“Exactly. And that’s the point of this meeting. We can’t keep doing business like this. We have to organize, share our intel, coordinate our activities, pool our spoils. In short, we need to act like businessmen—”

“And women!” a female Chan’Yi interjected.

“Of course,” Penrod conceded with a nod. “My apologies.
And
women. We need to join together, hire a professional accounting team, open bank accounts, invest in securities, buy off government officials, and so on. But we can’t do all that individually. On our own, we’re not big enough or powerful enough. Most of us don’t have more than a handful of ships. What we need is a fleet. Then we can smash the opposition and take what we want.”

“And just where do we find this mythical fleet,” asked an Alberian
. His pebbled green skin gave the appearance of being scaly, even though the Alberians had lost their true scales millions of years of evolution ago.

“We don’t
find
one, we
assemble
one. Together we’re infinitely more powerful than we are individually. We need to band together. In short, we need to incorporate.”

The room erupted in bedlam: shouts, laughter, snorts of derision, but also some nods of agreement. Penrod watched and listened, to gauge where the support and opposition were centered. After a couple of minutes, the hubbub subsided. Penrod raised his voice over the last of the commotion.

“Let’s get some idea of how much support there is for this idea. All those who agree the idea is worth discussing further, please raise a hand, tentacle, or claw.”

Eight hands, including Penrod’s, and one tentacle—the Foren Captain’s—went up.

“All opposed?”

Four hands and a claw went up.

At the press of a button, all five pirates writhed and spasmed as electricity shot up one leg of their steel chairs, across their torsos, and down another chair leg. The other pirates leapt from their seats in surprise. Two seconds later, five smoking corpses slumped forward onto the tabletop.

“Relax,” Penrod said, smiling at those standing. “The rest of you are safe. We’re all partners now, aren’t we? We’re about to change the rules of the game very much in our favor. Until now, we’ve had to limit ourselves to raiding embargoed planets, small outposts, and cargo ships. But no more. Soon we’ll be able to go anywhere and take anything we want!”

He paused for the cheering, stomping, and table-pounding. While that was going on, his underlings cleared the room of the
non
partners and the ventilation system ramped up to evacuate the stench of charbroiled meat. Then he resumed.

“Very well. Now let’s get down to the details. I’ve drawn up a draft charter of incorporation for all of you to look over. I think it’s fair to everyone, allocating shares of stock to all the partners according to their verified current net worth. We can elect a
chairman and CEO later.


Ladies and gentlemen, it’s time we went on the offensive. If we do this right, we can destroy the Merchants’ Unity in short order.”

Amid roars and hoots of approval, BAE (Buck-An-Ear) Corporation was born.

 

 

“My apologies
, Hal.” Kalen resumed his seat. “It appears we have a visitor.”

“A visitor?”

Kalen nodded. “A pirate. But the vessel is still hours from Earth.”

Hal’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Isn’t that a bit convenient, them appearing as soon as I’m aboard?
What better way to convince me of the seriousness of the situation.”

The other man snorted. “There’s nothing ‘convenient’ about it. In fact, it’s most
in
convenient from my standpoint. You’ll understand better later, but this is a very real danger, both to this ship and to Earth.”


Hmm. If you say so.”

Kalen’s answer had done nothing to address Hal concern
s, but the pilot pressed on. “As for that ship, shouldn’t you go out to intercept it?”

“It’s best we stay here, in case it’s a feint to draw us away from the planet so another ship can swoop in while we’re occupied elsewhere.”

Hal frowned. “Oh. Is that a common tactic?”

“Not at a
ll,” Kalen said. “Fortunately, the pirates tend to compete with one another for prizes. They rarely work together.” He frowned. “Still, we’re dealing with human lives here, so it’s best to err on the side of caution.”

“Of course.”

“So, to return to your question about embargoed systems: more than a hundred. The number varies from year to year, as new civilizations are discovered, while others are granted admission into the Unity. That’s why it’s so hard to patrol them all.”

Hal
whistled in surprise. “That many?” He paused a moment in thought. “Are any of these civilizations aggressive?”

“Aggressive? As in ‘might want to attack Earth’?”

Hal nodded.

“No. As I said before, the Unity was formed as a peaceful trade association. Warfare is rather coun
terproductive in that respect. So, we don’t invite aggressive civilizations to join.”


If that’s the case, why haven’t we been asked to join this Unity of yours? I’m sure we’d love to get access to some of your advanced technology. We certainly have plenty of art and music to trade. Maybe even some technology no one else has thought of. Or are we too aggressive for you? I know our history hasn’t exactly been a peaceful one.”

Kalen shook his head. “That’s not the issue. Your planet is no threat to the Unity or its members at this stage.
It’s actually for your protection. I imagine you’re familiar with the problem of cultural contamination, advanced cultures stifling more prim—, well, let’s say ‘less advanced’ ones?”

He waited for Hal’s nod.
“Our membership laws require that a civilization achieve interstellar flight before it can be offered admission. Think of it as getting your driver’s license. Earth is still years away from that point.”

Hal nodded.
“Okay. Let’s say I actually believe all this flying-saucer stuff. Now the big question: You said you needed a pilot. For
this
thing? Are you crazy? I’m just a broken-down jet jockey, not an astronaut. Besides, your technology is way ahead of anything I’ve ever heard of, let alone flown.”


You underestimate your abilities, colonel.”


And what abilities might those be? I still don’t understand how I can help you.
I
certainly don’t know how to fly this thing. You must have other people who are a lot more familiar with the technology and could learn faster than I could.”

“That
’s where you’re wrong. As you pointed out, our technology is quite advanced. In fact, the ship is controlled through an implant, a direct neural interface. This direct link to the brain eliminates all hesitation or uncertainty that might result from the hundreds of dials, switches, gauges, and other controls you’re familiar with. It also means that physical limitations, such as your bad hip, are not a problem.

Hal
’s eyebrows shot up at the implications.


The downside of this approach is that pilots are in short supply. Very few people have the ability to multitask both their own thoughts and the data input from the ship’s computer and sensors. There’s a lot to process simultaneously and most of us are incapable of doing it. Fewer than one percent of humans have this ability—what we call hypertasking—and at most two to three percent of some other races. A few species—the Foren, for example—lack the ability entirely. Either they fly the old-fashioned way or they hire pilots from other races to fly for them.

“We
’ve been scanning pilots on Earth for this ability since Tompkins died, and you’re the first we’ve found who’s suitable. That gene is part of the reason you were such an exceptional pilot. The rest, of course, was due to intelligence, hard work, and training. We only need you for seven months, before we’re relieved. Then you can go home and we can return to base and pick up some replacement pilots.”


Let’s say I believe all this. So far you haven’t said why I should risk my neck to help you.”

Kalen shrugged. “It’s very simple.
You wouldn’t be doing this for me, or the Unity, you’d be doing it for Earth. Look, you spent your entire adult life defending your country from marauders. Then you were put out to pasture before your time. I’m giving you the opportunity once again to protect not only your country, but your entire planet.
And
, you get the chance to fly an actual starship. I’m guessing that was a boyhood dream of yours.”

Hal
flashed a crooked smile. “You certainly know which buttons to push.” His smile faded. “Suppose I decline your generous offer. What then? Am I a prisoner?”

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