Proving True

Six days later, my perCom beeps. Is Shawna calling me from Atlas? “Hey, honey. There’s a transport setting out for Goliath. A sizable corporation is hiring all kinds of crew for scientific expeditions with a slight military twist. Freddie got a billet as a trooper, and they hired me as a ship’s vehicle pilot. They’re asking for engineers as well. Freddie, consummate namedropper that he is, mentioned you and Night Searcher and they couldn’t hire you fast enough. All you have to do is say, ‘Yes.’”

Angus and I have already discussed this. “Then I’m saying it. I’ll hop a transport to Atlas tomorrow and be there as soon as I can.”

“No need, babe. I said, ‘sizable corporation,’ there’s a Messenger class ship at the Lemuria starport. Did you think I had coin enough for an interplanetary call? I don’t but thanks for thinking I do,” she laughs. “I’m at the beach until you get here, but as soon as you say so, the jets get hot and we go to Atlas.”

“Good enough. I’ll grab a Magtrain and see you sometime tomorrow.”

“Awesome! I’ll tell Freddie. Hugs, kisses and deep tissue massage!” The connection breaks.

“Uncle Angus!” I yell. “We’re dining at the Purple Heather tonight, my treat!”

He yells back, “No, we’re not! I’ve ordered out for haggis, Athena has prepared it and you’re going to eat it! You’ve been promising me you would for weeks and ye’ve dodged every opportunity.”

Right again.

After clearing away the breakfast dishes the following morning, Athena calls for a transport to take us into town. I hug Angus and manage to hold my tears until we’re out of sight of the house. I buy the tickets at the Magtrain depot to Lemuria. Shawna didn’t give me any particulars about the courier or its location so I can’t do any of the preliminary paperwork the government requires. I can’t even supply a better location than the starport—and that’s really just a guess.

On the Magtrain I take the window seat, Athena has the aisle. I pull my perCom from my daypack and look at the contact data I have for Angus. He assured me that Mr. MacDougal was happy to be a point of contact for him. I still don’t understand why Angus won’t have a holoCom installed or buy a perCom. I don’t buy his argument that there’s no way to keep people from listening in; but there’s no persuading him.

“On the way to Lemuria we’ll pass through several library networks,” I tell Athena. “I’d like you to download any factual documents on black holes and wormholes, please. I’ll read them when we get into Transit.”

“Of course, peer reviewed only?”

“That would be preferable, but it’s not a requirement.” She nods. As an android, she’s not built for chitchat or idle conversation. The train begins the journey and I soon drift off to sleep. When the train pulls into the station, I check my perCom while Athena claims our luggage. Four hundred emails are in my inbox, all from Athena. The most recent is entitled, “Summary.” I open it and read that there are three suspected wormholes in the Ramaris sector. The first is three parsecs rimward of Morg, the second is two parsecs spinward of System 033, and the third is five parsecs trailing of System 02. There is a large black hole rumored to be in the Lucan sector but it has been neither properly investigated nor documented. “Athena, I need another thing from you, please. Can you do a patent search and see if Peter Scholnich ever patented his armor design? There’s a possibility that his work has become public domain, but if not, I want to profit from it even if he was unwilling to do so.” Captain Prowse willed me a significant amount of money, but an independent income stream is always a good thing.

Athena gets that familiar distant look in her eyes. “Accessing. There are no patents for Peter Scholnich or PeteArmor currently in effect. If he filed a patent it has expired or been rescinded.”

“According to his biography, I get the impression he didn’t file one. For him it was more about the challenge and protecting his friends. Do you have the files associated with the improvements I made, what the troopers were calling ‘SoniArmor?’ and the replication specs we used on Night Searcher?” She nods. “Good, use those to file a patent on my behalf, please. File it on Atlas, if you can. They have more lenient laws for manufacturing. Goliath is my second choice if Atlas isn’t viable.” I’m all about protecting my friends, but I don’t have a trillionaire footing my expenses like Scholnich did.

“Accessing. Filing. The filing fee for Atlas is 2,000 credits. If you wish, I can register it sector wide for 5,000 credits.”

“Spend the five, please.”

“I am registering the patent with the Danfellows Patent Office. Sonia MacTaggert has sole ownership of all rights for production of SoniArmor. Legally, no one will be able to produce a unit without your permission.”

A familiar voice splits the air, “Sonia!” I barely have enough time to turn before Shawna plows into me. For a pilot Shawna is a strong girl. On a ship, between flights, there’s not that much to do. And some of her best friends are career infantry soldiers. They are all definitely subject matter experts for physical fitness. She has wrapped her arms around me, lifted me up and twirled me around.

“Put her down, already,” Freddie growls. “She’s gonna puke.” Freddie Call was the assigned Troop Commander on Night Searcher when we left. He, Shawna, and Athena came with me. The time off ship has been good for them, but neither of them benefited from the relaxed, country life of Angus’ house. They stayed there for a week then claimed they needed to “get their freaky on” in more populated areas. The gods only know how many guys they’ve bedded. Freddie has gone back to wearing his black leather, and he still makes it look good. Thug mixed with fashion plate.

“So, my little Sonia,” Shawna asks as she sets me down and holds me at arm’s length, “did you stay at the big drafty house or did you light some young man’s world on fire?” Shawna is making her own statement in a yellow halter-top and hot pants so short they could be more accurately called a belt. She takes me by the hand and we walk through the terminal to the private berths. Through a window I see what I presume to be the Messenger courier that we’ll be taking to Atlas. The ship is very sleek; its lines practically scream speed. I know though that outside an atmosphere the actual shape of the ship is immaterial as there’s nothing to push out of the way. But even so, I like looking at this ship.

“You’ll be ashamed of me, I stayed with Angus until we left this morning. I haven’t even been leered at properly until I saw you.”

“I’m happy to help you with that, I know, I know, you’re ‘straight.’” She makes the quote signs with her fingers. “I’m just letting you know the decision is yours.” Freddie elbows Shawna to one side.

“Hey, Boss. You’re looking good. Did you color your hair? I don’t remember the red being that deep. While Shawna is drying off her chin, I’ll give you the low down. The ship, Star Chaser, will leave Atlas for Goliath 48 hours after we get there. Three days after reaching Goliath to load cargo and stuff we leave for deep space. Final destination is to be announced. So while you three are pawing over each other, I’m going to go get a cup of proper coffee while I have the opportunity. With any luck, you’ll have all your baggage aboard the courier before I get back.”

“Hey, while you’re going,” I call after him, “can you bring me one too?”

“Can I? Yes. Will I? Probably not.”

Some things never change. While he’s gone we actually do get my baggage, such as it is, into the courier. There’s not much room left in the cargo hold, it looks like both of them have picked up more than a few new possessions since I saw them last. Just as Athena bolts the cargo hatch closed, Freddie walks up. “Ah, you are finished. Shawna, if you’d be so good to pilot us back to Atlas?” He enters the courier, sits down, straps up, drains his coffee cup, leans his seat back and pulls his cap over his eyes.

Shawna looks at me incredulously. “I guess that since his highness is ready, it’s time to leave. Ladies, if you’ll board?”

We all enter the courier and Athena secures the hatch.

Habit overrides fashion. Shawna pulls a flight suit over her “take me” attire. Within five minutes we have a departure clearance. Twenty minutes after that we are on our way to Atlas.

Like most pilots, Shawna has a distrust of AutoPilot at the genetic level. The computer has control of the small ship, and even under “manual” control, a significant percentage of piloting activities are actually automated. With the ship flying autonomously, Shawna leans back and catnaps, but I don’t think she’s clinically sleeping.

“Hey, handsome,” I punch Freddie in the arm. “I have a question for you.”

“If it’s ‘how long will I last after waking you?’ I’d guess about thirty seconds.” He’s so surly if he doesn’t get his eight hours. I don’t feel like rising to his bait though.

“If you had a suit of Strike Armor that could bend light around you, making you difficult to see and almost impossible to target, would you be willing to trade some of the strength of the armor? Like downgrading penetration protection from 22mm to 7mm. If engaged, you’d be less likely to survive, but at the same time you’d be less likely to be engaged.”

He squints his eyes and looks at me, his head cocked to one side. “Typically, usually, most of the time and almost always it’s not the size of the projectile, but the velocity. So if the impact force could be directed away…oh, right. Yeah, I’d be okay with that. I’d want a little more guarantee than ‘less likely.’ I’d prefer, ‘active sighting systems would not lock on to you.’ Can you deliver that?”

“Not at this time,” I’ve known him too long to lie about it. “But I can add that to the specification research queue. I was thinking it would be used in a scout/recon type role. You’d want to be able to move quickly and stealthily. The direct combat guys, the slug throwers, would wear the more conventional armor. If there’s a way to direct the impact force around the armor, rather than try to stop it and absorb it I don’t know what it is. But I will look into it and get back to you. Okay, if you’ll stop jabber jawing, I’m going to get some sleep myself.” Oh, the look I get from him before I close my own eyes.