Space Trader (Galactic Axia Adventure) (21 page)

“Glad to meet you, sir,” Ian said, taking the major’s hand. “This is my friend Lyyle from the planet Vogel.”

“Never heard of it,” the major said. “Let’s relax and make this informal as possible. I’ve had enough of stiff collars to last a lifetime!”

“With pleasure,” Ian agreed as they all headed over to a grouping of chairs and couches.

“Refreshments, gentlemen?” the major asked.

One of the junior enlisted personnel headed for the wet bar. “I’d say we owe you that at least after the help you gave to the picket ships. They said you torched three Red-tail ships before you broke off?”

“Yes, that’s correct,” Ian agreed. “If you’ve got some strong tea, I’d appreciate it. And coffee for my friend.” Lyyle nodded his agreement but kept quiet and let Ian do the talking.

The major nodded toward the waiting trooper at the wet bar. The man immediately started preparing the requested drinks.

“Tell me how you managed to get those three ships,” the major continued. “From what I heard, our pickets didn’t know you were there until you’d already torched one.”

“I’m not surprised,” Ian said with a wink toward Lyyle. “Tell me, did any of your ships pick us up at all?”

“Now that you mention it, no. I expect better of my picket ships.”

“Don’t be too hard on them. We were veiled against visual and sensor detection when we entered the fray.”

“What do you mean ‘veiled’?” the major asked, perplexed. Just then, the enlisted man brought over the drinks and set them down on a table.

“Exactly what I said,” Ian answered. “Veiled.”

“I think I can clarify what he means,” Lyyle said. “To put it bluntly, on our planet, Vogel, we developed the technology to mask a ship from sensor or visual detection.”

“An entire ship?”

“Yes sir, an entire ship. And much more.”

“Impossible,” the major said sternly. “I know it’s been in fiction for years beyond number but it’s just not possible.” He waved his hand in a jester that said they were wasting his time talking this nonsense.

“No sir, it’s not only possible,” Ian said with a smile, “it’s very real.”

“Just for sake of argument, let’s say that I believe you,” the major said as he reached for his drink. “I know a little about physics. To mask a solid mass object would take enormous amounts of energy. If, and I mean if it was possible, you could only do it for a very small object.”

The major looked around the room then extended his hand brandishing his cup. “Something the size of this cup, for example.”

“Let me show you something,” Lyyle said. Reaching over, he took Ian’s cup from his hand. With his other hand, he picked up a sugar cube.

“We can all see this cube, correct?” he asked. Everyone nodded.

“Now we drop it into the tea,” Lyyle continued, following his words with action. “We can still see the lump at the bottom of the cup.”

“What’s your point?”

“But if I stir it even a little, it dissolves. Now I can argue that the sugar is still there, but of course, we don’t see it. In effect, I masked it in plain sight.”

“So you dissolve the sensor signature of an object in the surrounding space?” the junior enlisted trooper asked from behind the wet bar. The major cast a dangerous sidelong glare at the trooper.

Ian looked astonishingly at the young trooper.
From the mouth of babes,
he thought.

“Exactly!” exclaimed Lyyle, ignoring the disdainful glare cast by the major.

“Wow! What perception! Why don’t you join us over here, young man?”

“You just stay right where you are!” the major ordered. “I think we can handle this.” The trooper lowered his eyes and continued to clean glasses behind the bar.

Uh-o,
thought Ian.
Lyyle is getting excited. They’ve had it now.

Lyyle continued with his explanation. “To mask the object, we use what I call the scatter effect of normal molecular interaction.”

“But it’s still impractical,” the major rejoined.

“Tell me, major,” Ian said, jumping into the conversation as he retrieved his sweetened tea from Lyyle. “Can you explain how the basic bedspring drive system works on Axia ships?”

“Of course not,” the major replied. “Many have tried and a few have even come close, but even less retained any form of coherent expression in their explanation.”

“You sure do love to turn a phrase,” Ian commented to the nodded agreements of the other troopers present. The major frowned.

“But I digress. You can’t explain the bedspring drive and neither can I, but that doesn’t stop us from using it, correct?”

“Correct,” the major agreed tersely. Ian saw that they were not going to get anywhere just talking about it.

“Would you be willing to accompany me to my ship?” Ian asked. “I’d like to show you something.” Ian stood and motioned the major toward the door.

The major hefted himself up. “Let’s get this over with.”

“I assure you that I won’t waste your time,” Ian said as they all headed out of the lounge. Only the young trooper stayed behind, collecting cups and glasses from the others as they departed.

The only one that understands the basic concept stays behind to do the dishes,
Ian reasoned within himself.
That
f
igures!

It only took a couple of minutes to reach the
Cahill Express
. Ian and the major entered the ship while by unspoken agreement, Lyyle and the others headed for a viewing window looking down on the docking bay floor.

“Have a seat, major,” Ian said, strapping into the control seat.

“You didn’t say we were going anywhere,” the major said. He made to head back out the airlock but the warning light came on, indicating that the remote lock-down was active. The major turned and glared at Ian.

“Relax, major,” Ian said. He powered up the ship’s systems. “I only strap in out of habit. It’s obvious that you haven’t been in a small ship for a while.”

Too much time sitting behind a desk drinking coffee and eating pastries,
Ian really wanted to say.

“What are you up to?” the major asked suspiciously. “I thought you wanted to show me something.”

“I do,” Ian said. “Please tell me what you see on the main viewing screen.” Ian adjusted the visual sensor controls.

“I see the viewing window where your friend and my staff are watching us,” the major said. “What of it?”

“Notice their expressions?” Ian said as he magnified the image. Zooming in, it was now possible to see their facial expressions quite clearly. Except for Lyyle, they looked bored.

“I see them,” the major answered sullenly.

Ian keyed his microphone. “You ready up there, Lyyle?” While Ian and the major watched, one of his staff activated the intercom next to the viewing window.

“Ready when you are.”

Ian reached for a side control. “What do you see now, Major?” he asked as he powered up the Optiveil.

The image on the screen showed the simultaneous expressions of disbelief on the faces of all of the major’s staff. Lyyle stepped aside when panic ensued and created a circus-like atmosphere of people rushing around. Pandemonium had broken out in the viewing room.

Only Lyyle was calm. He was explaining something to a lieutenant.
Looks like that circus clown act with the little car and bucket of confetti,
Ian thought.

“What’s going on up there?” the major demanded.

Before Ian could answer, alarm klaxons sounded and the dock master’s voice came on the comm. “
Cahill Express,
please respond!”

“
Cahill Express
here,” Ian replied calmly. “Is there a problem?”

“Uh…” was all the dock master said for a moment.

“What’s happening?” demanded the major. “Let me talk to them!”

Ian nodded toward the comm unit near the major.

The officer stabbed the send button roughly and shouted into the mic. “This is Major Armada!” he shouted. “What’s going on up there?”

“Where are you, major?” the dock master asked.

“What do you mean, where am I? I’m captive in this lunatic trader’s ship!”

“What ship, sir?” the dock master queried.

“What do you mean ‘what ship’?” the major demanded angrily. “Have you lost your senses? It’s sitting right here on your dock floor!”

“I think my senses are fine,” the dock master replied anxiously. “The only thing I seem to have lost is that ship. It’s gone!”

“No it’s not!” the major shot back. “We didn’t lift or anything! We’re right here!”

“Maybe this will help,” Ian said to both the major and dock master. With the flip of a switch, the Optiveil powered down. To those watching, the missing ship shimmered into existence right before their eyes.

“How…?” was all the dock master said over the comm while the major looked more confused than ever.

“Tell the major what you just saw,” Ian suggested quietly to the poor dock master.

“Go ahead,” the major agreed suspiciously.

“Sir,” the dock master began. “I saw you enter the ship a few minutes ago. Then the ship disappeared. Dock sensors noted the change and went into warning mode. All they could indicate was that somehow a ship was no longer present without any departure clearance.”

“You’re saying they couldn’t read our presence?” the major asked in disbelief.

“Yes sir,” the dock master stammered. “I mean, no sir,” he stammered again. “I really don’t know what I mean, sir, except that I conducted a full sensor sweep since I couldn’t believe my own eyes. Everything indicated you were gone.”

“Not even the dock’s load mass detectors?”

“Not even those,” the dock master answered. “Nothing registered except your comm transmission until the ship shimmered back into view. How did it do that?”

“That,” Ian said triumphantly, “is the Optiveil.”

“I don’t believe it!” exclaimed the major.

“You better believe it,” Ian said as he powered down and remotely released the hatch. “I suggest we go discuss this in greater detail.”

“I think you’re right,” the major agreed shakily. “And I think a drink a little stronger than coffee might help,” he added as he exited through the hatch.

As he got up out of the control chair, Ian found himself having that familiar tingle of avarice that came before a particularly lucrative trade negotiation.

Chapter Twenty

The door squeaked and Professor Angle sauntered slowly into the laboratory. The room seemed strangely quiet. He set his worn briefcase down on his desk next to the main computer console, shed his coat, and then fixed himself a cup of hot cider, his spoon clinking against the cup as he stirred in a generous portion of allspice. As he turned, the professor caught the shimmering light of something materializing in front of the main console.

Angle never tired of seeing the holographic projection of the ancient extinct species known as Horicons. He marveled at the image of an octopedal creature with eight long, thin legs with barbed protrusions above and below its triple knees. It used six of its legs to stand on while two of its legs resembled long arms extending from either side of the creature’s spideral body, each having a forward and backward-bending elbow.

The creature’s small head, or what appeared to be its head, was perched on a thick neck. Two stalks with an oversized eye attached to each dangled at odd angles from either side of its head. Its body was covered with thick, coarse black hair. The body appeared to have no bone structure, only dense cartilage.

“Good morning, Professor,” Ert said as the holographic image of an ancient Horicon formed in the open space. Without batting an eye, Professor Angle sat down and leaned back in his chair.

“And a good morning to you, my friend,” he replied, taking a tentative sip of cider. “To what do I owe this ‘appearance’ this morning?”

“Just thought I’d stay in practice,” Ert replied through the room speakers.

The professor noted that Ert had coordinated the action interface of the projection with the body language of the Horicon image. Although the Horicon had no mouth as humans think of it, the vestigial appendages on their heads worked for both sending and receiving sound waves. The professor was glad that Ert was speaking in human form and modulation. The one time Ert had demonstrated actual Horicon communication it had sounded like a swarm of bees had gotten loose in the room.

“There is more to it than that,” the professor observed.

“You know me too well. But that works both ways. You are here much earlier than normal this morning.”

“That is true,” Angle answered.

The professor shuffled a stack of papers on his desk then turned toward the holographic image.

“Now I have a question for you. How do you think those extinct humans managed to understand the Horicon language?” He nodded toward the stack of books on Ert’s reader.

“Quite simple,” Ert said. “Firstly, humans are quite ingenious. Once they reverse engineered our technology, finding and translating the Horicon language would be only a matter of time.”

“But to us humans, the Horicon language sounds like so much buzzing,” the professor noted.

“That is true,” Ert agreed. “But who said they spoke it? There are countless examples of human civilizations having ‘secret’ texts or languages that were only written, not spoken, and then only among a select few. The humans you refer to never had a sample of spoken Horicon language. All they had were written samples. It would have been fascinating to observe their efforts. When the Horicon sent out probes, we never expected anyone doing what those humans did. You are a most inventive and inquisitive species!”

“Why are you working again with image projection? You haven’t done that in quite a while. It was ‘unnecessary’ as you previously put it.”

“True again,” Ert readily agreed. “I do have some thoughts about the whole subject of imaging. But now I want to show you something. Something you humans know nothing about.”

Cup still in hand, the professor sat up. Ert’s surprises were not to be taken lightly.

“What are you about to do?” the professor asked. Without warning, the image of the Horicon faded away.