Chapter IX: Contact

Rick hesitated a moment in surprise, but at the gentle, yet pointed insistence of the knife, turned right, and headed down a narrow corridor of the terminal building. As they entered, the noises of the daily activities subsided. Several self-defense moves came to Rick’s mind, and he wondered if he should take the chance, when the pressure from the blade vanished.

“You can turn around now, Lieutenant Raygunn,” said the soft voice.

Rick turned in amassment to see a yellow, sand encrusted cloaked figure standing before him. “Who are you?”

The figure reached up and removed his hood to reveal a middle-aged man, gray very prominent in his black hair. “SP agent Larry Morgan.” He stuck out his hand. “Welcome to Jameson Three.”

Rick absently shook hands. “If you’re an SP agent, why the knife?”

Larry looked up at him, as Rick was at least ten centimeters taller, and shrugged. “This is Jameson Three. I wanted to be inconspicuous. If there were any observers, they would have thought that you just lost your wallet and creds.”

“Oh. How did you know I was coming?”

Larry motioned with his hand. “Come. It is not safe to talk openly.” He turned and headed for one of the many side doors in the building. He pulled out a breathing mask from under his cloak, and pulled it over his face, then covered his head with the hood of his cloak. Rick followed, placing his own mask on.

They exited the building onto a narrow street. They past other pedestrians, who were all wearing cloaks similar to Larry’s. The sand and wind whipped down the narrow path, and Rick could feel the sand entering his clothes and forcing itself beneath his mask. The wind was harsher here than in the docking berths, and Rick began to appreciate the value of wearing cloaks on this hot planet.

They moved past several buildings and went down several side streets. Everything appeared the same, with only small, lit signs indicating a place of business. After what felt like an hour of being in a combination of a sand and blasting furnace, they stopped in front of a door. Larry opened it, and Rick quickly followed him inside.

Rick saw that they were in a short hallway, with one other door at the other end. The air was still, and much cooler in here. Rick lifted off his mask and wiped the sand off his mouth and nose with his sleeve. Larry removed his cloak and mask, and hung them on pegs set in the wall by the door. He snorted in amusement. “Wassa matter, laddie? Don’t like the taste of our fair planet?”

“Not my idea of lunch, no.”

Larry laughed again. “I have an extra cloak you cin take with ya, son.” He slapped Rick on the back, raising a cloud of dust that caused Rick to cough. He waited until Rick recovered, then pointed out the pegs, indicating that Rick should store his mask. “Come on in, boy. We have a lot of things to cover.”

Rick hung up his mask and followed the agent through the other door into his abode. All of Rick’s high expectations of what a spy’s lair should look like from watching threedee holovision fell with an almost audible crash as Rick looked around the cramped and messy apartment. Larry pushed a pile of printouts off a couch and motioned for Rick to seat.

“Make yourself comfortable, kid. Let me go get us something to wash the dust from our throats.” Larry left the room through an open doorway, and Rick heard the opening of a refrigerator. Rick was amazed that someone could run an intelligence network from this hovel. Besides the couch, there were two other large chairs. Papers and printouts covered one chair, and the other was over next to a desk. The desk’s major feature was the comm terminal, placed on one side of the desk closest to the large, uncluttered chair. However, printouts covered the remainder of the desk, and there was a precarious stack of reference manuals perched on top of the comm monitor.

Sector and planetary maps from the local star systems covered the walls. There were also several holographic pin-up calendars, none displaying the same month, and all were from different years. There were various plaques and souvenirs from several holiday resorts, and a commendation award for meritorious service adding to the clutter on the walls. Rick glanced up at the ceiling, expecting to see posters, but the only thing hanging was a small crystal under the overhead light, tossing fragments of refracted light over the room, rotating with the air currents.

Rick heard the clink of bottles as Larry entered the room again. He passed over one bottle to Rick. “Drink it slow. These are my last two,” suggested Larry.

Rick glanced at the label, and noticed that it was a beer bottle. Dancing Star ale. Rick had heard it discussed by some of his classmates, but had never bothered to investigate. It was supposed to be one of the better brands of beer, and went for a high price on Earth. Rick looked up at Larry. “Uh, do you have any soda or milk?”

Larry shook his head. “All out. This is the only thing I have. Wasn’t expecting you until later, otherwise would have picked up more.” Larry looked at him suspiciously. “Wassa matter? Don’t like it?”

Rick twisted off the top to the bottle. “No, nothing like that. I just wanted to keep my head clear for the mission.”

Larry popped off his own top, and took a swig from the bottle that drained a third of it right off. Then he stared at Rick over the top of the bottle. “What mission, kid? The only clue I had to your coming was a message sent to you from the Academy, and it was coded to you.”

“There’s a message for me? Let me see it.” Rick stood up and headed for the comm terminal.

“Help yourself, son.” Larry savored the remainder of his beer as Rick gave the terminal a quick look. “The power switch is in the back.”

“Thanks.” Rick reached behind the unit, and located the switch with his hand, and flipped it on. The screen flickered, and an image of a green, nude dancer moving to seductive music appeared. Rick watched it a second, then tried accessing the commands. Nothing happened.

“Oh, sorry. I put a password in the screensaver,” said Larry as he moved over to the keyboard. He typed in a phrase, and the dancing image became two centimeters tall, and continued dancing in her holographic cube. The command set was now accessible, and Rick called up the message waiting for him. The message was from his mother and dated the previous day. Rick selected it and entered his security code. He looked surprised when the terminal requested retina confirmation. Rick looked around for the scanner, but it wasn’t visible.

Larry watched him for a second, then realized what he was looking for. He started digging in the piles next to the terminal. “Heh, the leather lady doesn’t fool around, does she. Here ya go.” Larry pulled the small flat box from the depths of the pile and handed it to Rick.

“Thanks.” Rick placed the scanner up to his left eye, and waited for the terminal to approve his security code. The terminal, however, remained quiet, still requesting a confirmation to his ID code. Rick pulled the scanner away from his eye and looked at it. The scanning LED was covered up by something. Rick rubbed at it with his finger, and felt something sticky. He pulled his finger away, and a long, thin streamer emerged as his finger moved away, connecting his finger and the scanner.

“Hey, that’s where my gum went. I’ve been looking for it,” said Larry.

Rick held the scanner out to him. “Here it is.”

“I don’t want it after you’ve has your hands on it. I saw you with that girl, and I don’t want to know where your hands have been.” He gave Rick a wink and a rude leer. Then he grabbed the scanner away from Rick and poured a little beer on it, and rubbed the scanner on his shirt. He looked at it after a minute, grunted to himself, then passed it back to Rick.

Rick wasn’t sure if he was going to throw up from Larry’s behavior or lack of respect to equipment. He took the scanner back, holding it gingerly between two fingers. The LED was visible, glowing redly in its recessed port, but Rick doubted that it would still work. He carefully held it up to his eye, and the terminal beeped as it processed the scan. The security screen vanished, to be replaced by the image of his mother. Larry stood up in mock attention as she appeared, but Rick tried to ignore his behavior as he concentrated on his mother’s message. It originated in her office on Luna, and Rick could sense from her expression and body poise that she was upset about something. He had seen her like this too many times as a child, about to get a well-deserved spanking.

The message began with Andrea looking down at her desk, then she lifted her head up to the video pickup. “Lieutenant Rick Raygunn. As you may have discovered, your mission is more than investigating a malfunctioning satellite. I was not free to discuss further aspects of your mission, as this operation in under the direction of the Psi Corps.” Rick noticed that she twitched a little as she mentioned the psi corp. He knew that she didn’t like them, but never discovered why. She always refused to discuss it with him. Rick thought that dad knew, but wasn’t willing to discuss it either.

Andrea Gunn continued. “If the predictions of the precogs is correct, you should be receiving this message at 17:30 hours, local time on Jameson Three.”

Rick glanced at his watch. It was displaying 17:33 hours. `Something really big must be up for the Psi corps and the precogs to be involved,’ thought Rick.

“You may have wondered about many aspects of this mission, such as why a newly graduated cadet was given one of our latest ships, and then sent out to deal with a disguised pirate ship. I cannot answer these questions, other than to say that it was under orders of the Joint chiefs of staff, with a recommendation by the psi corps. You have been chosen because they feel you have the best chance of discovering the answer to a mystery that you are just discovering.” Andrea paused to take a sip from a coffee mug that was sitting out of pickup range. Rick noticed that it was a crude ceramic mug with the SP logo carved on it that he made for her back when he was in the second grade. He didn’t know that she brought it to the moon with her.

“I have not been given full details of the mission, but your orders are as follows. Stay alert, and follow your strongest leads. Report when possible, and good luck. I know that they are very general, but that’s how the psis want it, and they’re running the show. This file contains special contact information which is formatted only for your onboard AIATV3 system. Download it and transfer the data. This message will be fragged after you finish.”

Andrea’s image subtly change and soften, and Rick saw his mother rather than his commanding officer. “Good luck, Rick. It’s a tough assignment, even for an experienced officer. I know you’ll do your best and make me proud. One other note. Wilma graduated as a first lieutenant, and has been assigned to the SPS Feist as science officer. It’s a scout assigned to the sector seven fleet. She should do well there. Well, that’s all. Both your father and I wish you the best. Good-bye.” The image vanished as soon as she finished, and Rick suspected that she was hiding more emotion than she showed.

“Well, that was all very touching,” commented Larry. “You gonna drink that?”

Rick glanced around and noticed that Larry was staring at Rick’s bottle of beer. He shook his head and Larry grabbed the bottle. Rick barely noticed that Larry finished off the second beer and went back into the kitchen. Also, knowing that this involved the psi corps did not cheer him up. He wasn’t sure if his negative feelings were his own, or if he picked them up from his mother, but either way, it didn’t feel good.

He had been wondering why he got the new ship, and was curious over his rather general orders. Apparently since the precogs felt it was necessary, then following his leads would allow him to stumble over something. He wasn’t sure if it meant that either he was a real good investigator, or just plain lucky. Well, he’d try to make his success due to diligent work. Rick dug around the desk and located a blank crystal storage module, and transferred the file to the crystal. He then rechecked the comm terminal to make sure that the original copy was now missing. It was, so he pocketed the crystal just as Larry returned from the kitchen.

“Well, lucky you, son. Power of the gods. A new ship, and orders to do as you please. Must be nice to be the son of the commandant.”

Rick stood up, knocking over the chair and clenching his fists. “My relationship with the commandant of the space academy has nothing to do with this mission. This is the psi corps decision. Commandant Gunn wanted me to be assigned to a capital ship.”

Larry raised his hands. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. No need to be so touchy. Who knows what lurks in the hearts of those spooks, anyway?” Larry deposited himself on the couch. “So, what’s this fantastic plan of yours that’s gonna save the galaxy this month?”

Rick uprighted the chair and sat back down. “I don’t know. All I know is that it has something to do with the Garasians, Blackcoat, and a planet called Ferlon.” Rick turned back to the comm terminal and called up the library routine. He did a general search for the name Ferlon, and up with three matches. “Aha.”

Larry shoveled out the other chair and sat down next to Rick. “Found something?”

“Maybe.” Rick called up the three entries. The first was a holiday of a local politician on a colony world in sector three. The second one was a name of a sun god on a tech three world in sector seven. The third reference was to a small trading company operating between sector one and sector four. Rick requested additional information, and got a list of planets with local offices. One office was listed as being on Jameson Three. “Here we go. This might be something. I’ll bet that Blackcoat will be making contact here at that office.”

Larry looked at him. “Are you sure? I mean, It can get pretty wild around here, but Blackcoat is very visible. He wouldn’t dare show himself in this sector. The SP would be on him in a flash, even if they have to use heavy cruisers to get to him.”

“Nevertheless, I have it on good authority that he’s on his way, and should be here the day after tomorrow. We can lay in wait and attempt to discover what his business is here. First, however, we have to learn more about this Ferlon company. Got any more reference materials?”

“Only what’s on-line in the planetary database. Just a sec, I’ll get you the access number.” Larry started going through the piles on his desk, then halfway through, changed his mind and started going through the stuff that wound up on the floor. After a minute, he pulled out a printout. “Here it is. Got it from a blackmarketeer.”

Rick looked at the code, then at the reference displayed on the screen. “This is the public access number. You got jacked.”

Larry shrugged. “So did he.”

“Oh.” Rick glanced around and then looked back at Larry. “You know, this isn’t what I thought it might be.”

“Be for what? A secret SP base?” Larry threw up his hands. “Whaga expect? Secret underground hangers? Supercomputers with the galactic databanks? Fleets of star cruisers ready to unleash their power on unsuspecting pirates? Get real, Raygunn. What you see before you is the SP’s total budget for Jameson Three. A comm terminal, this apartment, and me. I’m supposed to monitor the movements of cargoes and suspected pirates. Half the planet knew I was a SP agent as soon as I stepped off the transport. The only ones who talk to me are the stoolies and blackmarketeers trying to sell me false information.” Larry paced back and forth in the small apartment. “If you think you can do a better job, you’re welcome to it.”

Rick was taken aback by Larry’s bitterness. “I didn’t know.”

Larry snorted. “Of course not. They don’t teach you kids reality in school. If they did, half of you would never graduate. You’d all drop out and go find real jobs.”

“The SP is a real job. It’s all that stands between us and collapse.”

Larry laughed. “That’s what they want you to think, son. The truth is, the only thing keeping us going is inertia. If someone bigger came along, we’d be dead meat in a flash. The SP isn’t that strong. That’s why there wasn’t much resistance when the Alliance was formed. It was either that, or risk mutual assured destruction. If the races started picking on each other, then the jackals would descend and clean our bones.” Larry held out his hands to forestall another outburst from Rick. “I know you don’t believe me now, but wait a few years. Once you get some perspective, you’ll begin to see what I’m talking about.”

Rick was about to make his rebuttal, when the door chime sounded. Larry looked startled. “That’s odd. I’m not expecting anyone. Rick, go in the bedroom, first door past the kitchen.” Larry pointed out the way. “If you hear anything suspicious, there’s a spare air mask, blaster, and cloak under the bed.”

“Right.” Rick dashed through the kitchen and into the bedroom. He located the mask and cloak as he heard Larry open the inner door. There was the sudden sound of blaster shots. Rick slipped on the mask, and found the blaster in the folds of the cloak. He turned it on the window, and fired. Nothing happened. He heard crashing noises coming from the rest of the apartment. He checked the charge on the gun. It was full, so that meant that the meter was malfuntioning or that it something else was wrong. Then Rick noticed that the safety was still on. He flicked it off and fired at the window again.

This time, the blaster fired, causing the window to explode. Hot, sandy wind instantly filled the room, and as Rick dived for the opening, he saw a figure appear in the doorway to the bedroom. Blaster bolts flew over him as he tucked and rolled into the street. He ran down the street in a direction that he hoped the spaceport was in, while trying to get the cloak on. Once he dislodged his mask, and got a mouthful of sand.

Rick stopped in the lee of a building, and wiped his mouth and reseated his mask. He also took advantage of the shelter to get his cloak on. Now that he looked like everyone else, he decided to stroll, as not to attract attention. He stepped out of the alley, and came face to face with three figures, all holding blaster pistols leveled at him.

To Be Continued...