Gareth Hughes
Copper and Chips
“Shield integrity at twenty percent! Two Scorpions disabled, three turrets damaged. Counter measures offline!” A mechanical female voice rang out of the onboard computer. Yet another blast shook the ship, tiles ripping off and clanging on the floor. “Eleven percent!” A spray of shrapnel from the metal hull and blue-green wisps of the shields floated off outside the cockpit. Another shot whipped by the right wing, sending vibrations in its wake. Gerrard jammed the stick back and the ship strained upwards. A quick shot of afterburners and the bogey was in his sights. A volley of fire from the wing-mounted guns ripped apart the pirate’s shields and made nice, neat holes in his hull. Another volley hit the enemy engines hard. The resulting explosion rocked Gerrard’s Falcon and made his sensors crackle briefly with static.
With a flicker, the surround screens turned off and the door behind slid open with a low whir. Denwu ducked in through the metal bulkhead and into the Sim. Bright fluorescent lights beamed through the doorway and glistened off of his jet black hair. “You’d think one time meeting pirates on a trade run wouldn’t turn a guy to this!” Denwu berated. “We run into the fellows once, just once! And you decide you need to practice. We’ve been on this station for, what, 10 days now? And no cash flowing in; we’ve gotta keep the cash flowing in.”
Gerrard swiveled the heavy chair around. “I wanna be ready, whatever it takes,” he said with
determination. They had come into Newark Station over a week ago with a full
load of copper and a small container of expensive optical chips. The copper, a
common merchant’s commodity, had stable prices, and the pair counted on it to
give them the majority of their income. The optical chips, however, were quite
rare, a lucky find by Denwu, and sold for massive
amounts if taken to the right corporation. Gerrard had
learned that Interspace Commerce would have a high
demand for the small chips, and he knew their main headquarters was situated on
They had found the
goods on
“There’s one on every station,” Gerrard groaned as Denwu hurried him along. Gerrard did not drink much, especially before a launch, as he felt it weakened his response time. But Denwu seemed to think differently judging from the large mug of decondensed ale he was gulping down. The bar was dimly lit from small hanging fluorescent lights. The entire room was made of hard, cold metal alloy, as was the entire station. Three walls were predominantly bare, though a few posters of bands and commercials for common beers hung limply. The fourth side was open to the main rooms in the station where merchants and traders hung around in small stalls or behind tables. On one section of wall, someone had decided his name would look good in bright blue paint, but the paint hadn’t adhered to the metal surface and dripped down into illegibility. A complex of simple speakers overhead blared out loud music to distract the clients from the poor condition of the bar counter and the evener poorer alcohol being drunk.
“You need to lighten up a bit,” Denwu shouted over the loud music. “This always staying alert and stuff. It’s nothing. We don’t need to keep awake out there.”
That’s Denwu, thought Gerrard, shaking his head, always pompous, always reckless. One of these days, something will go wrong, and I’ll have to watch out for Denwu as well as myself.
Denwu soon had his fill; two glasses of the thick brown liquid was more than enough. Stretching his arms, he got up from the bar-side seat. Gerrard jumped up from his leaning position by the near wall. His dirty blond hair was cut short above a chiseled chin and nose. Standing above Denwu by a few inches, his dark pants contrasted startlingly with his close clinging bright green and orange turtleneck. Denwu took the style further, with an orange streak in his hair and a red and yellow streaked tee-shirt above black pants with yellow stripes down the outside seam. As they walked down towards the station’s docks, Denwu greeted some of his friends made during his stay there with loud gestures and boisterous comments. Gerrard laughed with his friend but recognized few of Denwu’s apparently close buddies. A large double door, more like a garage gate than the normal bulkhead doors of the station, loomed before them. A barred window to the left opened, and a console demanded their station tickets. As they put them down, the doors slid up and a blast of chilly air came through. A huge open space, full of ships of all sizes and makes, greeted them. Their two ships sat side by side near one wall of the docking area. Their freighters were bulky but sound: thick plates of ceramic armor and metal sheets shielded the interior from the lifeless cold of space. They hopped in the cockpits, and a few key strokes later the crafts began to rise. The station’s automated launch system then took over.
The beginning of the two traders’ voyage was uneventful, as was to be expected. The trade lanes in Magellan were kept under close supervision, for pirates and others always watched for the right moment to strike an unsuspecting ship. The Independent Miners Guild worked hard to stay a reputable and profitable organization, but the pirates could run freely around such independent systems. IMG, with no backing from a large house, hired mercenaries and ex-Navy officers to patrol the lanes. Being cowards at heart, most of the pirates stayed away from the guarded lanes for fear of the ruthless hired warriors.
After release from
the station’s guidance system, the compartmentalized
Great, just great, a disturbed Gerrard thought. Somewhat disgusted with Denwu’s spontaneous drinking just before launch, he called over to him on the ship-to-ship intercom, “Denwu, you heard that announcement?”
“Huh? Wha?” Denwu’s voice was garbled and slightly slurred.
“They just said there’s Hackers in Kepler.”
After a moment, Denwu responded,”So? Aren’t there always? We never have problems – we’re not big enough.”
“I hope you’re right,” replied Gerrard. The rings loomed ahead as a voice came over the radio asking for their destination. Gerrard sent the traffic ID header, and the ring docking mechanism started up. The two freighters flew through the smaller opening and shot forward into the main lane. The ships made a small lurch and then felt the same as before, even though they were now going more than ten times faster.
Asteroids whipped by outside the trade lane’s rings, moving in a blur of motion. Smooth ripples of bluish energy – a phenomenon of the technology – floated up and around the lane as the ships hurtled by at blazing speeds. Each ring, over seven kilometers apart, passed in a second, blurring with the next one. A convoy further ahead, two large freighters and three light fighter escorts, hailed Gerrard and Denwu. They responded and chatted for the journey to the jump point to the Kepler system.
They soon reached the end of the trade lane and exited to see an enormous metallic structure – the jump gate to the Kepler system. The convoy went its own way, towards a base off a ways that neither of the traders recognized. Gerrard was nervous about the reported pirates in the next system, but Denwu forged ahead, coming near to the large gate. Gigantic beams began to rotate, increasing speed exponentially. Soon a massive swirl of white streaks and rainbow hues formed between the beams. Gerrard fired his afterburners to catch up, and the two went through the massive portal. A split second later, they arrived in the Kepler system, known for its dark clouds of nebulous gases.
The trade lanes there were less well kept and also had to be moved periodically to prevent ships from crashing into anything that floated into the lane. The undulating path through the clouds was precarious at best, and many ships had been lost to slight misalignments of the rings. Two mercenaries hired by the IMG patrolled the Kepler side of the jump gate, attempting vainly to keep the peace in a place where the notion was foreign. A quick exchange of greetings, and Denwu and Gerrard were on their way. The pair flew into the trade lane in the new system, and they were immediately on their way. All seemed well, and Gerrard relaxed as they shot through the dark nebula around them.
With a start, Gerrard jerked his head up, as an alarm sounded off on the console to his right. Five unidentified ships were closing in fast from the direction of the Magellan jump gate.
“Denwu, you awake?” he whispered over the radio. Silence answered him. “Denwu, wake up! We’ve got ships incoming. They must have disabled the lane remotely. Come on, wake up man!”
A loud sigh of relief escaped from Gerrard as Denwu answered, “I’m awake, I’m awake. When did we come out of the lane?” Denwu’s voice trembled, but Gerrard suspected it was not due to his worrying about the unknown ships coming in, but his excitement for some actual combat in his monotonous life.
“I dunno. Ship recorder says velocity dropped… a minute ago. Those ships are coming in fast… I think you’ll agree that we’d better get going.”
“You read my mind,” Denwu called back as he turned his ship towards the incoming raiders. Scanners picked up the vitals on the hostile ships. Two lightly armed fighters and two more armored ships. The last ship hung behind, but it was the heaviest of them all, a modified freighter with turrets bristling from every possible site on the hull.
“Where the hell are you going?” Gerrard cried after him. Denwu, reckless as always, ignored his pleas for them to run away. Gerrard was forced to follow after; he would not leave his friend for the lawless scum.
Luckily, just as Denwu got into range for a dogfight, four registered Bounty Hunters came onto radar. Gerrard was filled with overwhelming relief; Denwu shook his fist at both the groups. The friends realized the pirates were running from the well-equipped Bounty Hunters, whose overpowering weapons would have easily defeated them. The gunship had hung back to protect the lighter ships, but now the Bounty Hunters had caught up with all five of them. The battle was short and deadly. In one pass, the four Hunters targeted the same ships simultaneously, quickly destroying three of the lighter ones. A well coordinated turn and the lightning fast red lances from their cannons obliterated the last of the lighter pirates. One of the Bounty Hunters took a serious hit from the heavy gunship and veered away, but a volley of missiles from the other three riddled the customized freighter’s hull with explosions.
Denwu and Gerrard quickly turned around and went full burn towards the next trade lane ring. Bounty Hunters as a group were unpredictable and might turn on innocent bystanders – if they thought there was money to be made. The force of acceleration pushed Gerrard back into his seat, but it felt good to be getting away from possible – no, probable – death without even a scratch. As they approached the ring at top speed, Gerrard made up his mind to be ready for anything on their next trade run – a session in the Sim would be just the thing. They flew on, towards Interspace Commerce, Newark Station, and profit.