By David C. Daoust
Noreen had eyes throughout the Solar System. Omnipresent, her systems touched, almost, everything. Her current interest, however, was on the small manned vehicle soaring through the Iopa System. The small ‘space-tanker’ was sent from the colonized moon, Umbrie, to a Collecting Station resting in orbit around the Gas Giant, Iopa. It was long trip. Quite a few weeks, in fact. The only grace was that it was only made once a year.
The space-tanker’s name was ‘the Atlas’. Those manning it, a freighter Captain named Pete, his son Danny, accompanied by the one bot aboard, goes by the name ‘Rosie’. ‘Currently Rosie was ‘navigator’ of this ‘Iopa Run’. She was actually a ‘Rogue Aspirant’. More aptly called the Rogue Aspirant, considering she was the only one of her kind– as far as anyone on Umbrie knew anyway. Aspirants ‘aspired’ to be human, it was their whole thing. Rosie, however, was known for a different aspiration.
Given that Umbrie was a Royal Alliance moon- the oversized tank they were there to pick up, was more of an allotment, maybe a ‘ration’…
That is, when the Atlas began its trek, Umbrie was a Royal Alliance moon.
That was before the United Moons formed, cleared away the capital landing-pad, and built a State Building– right there on the moon. A novel idea to those of the Onion. A major statement from those colonists making their stand against the Tyranny of the Confederation.
Yet, that was only half the changes that had taken place since the Atlas had left space-dock for its annual trek to Iopa.
The Zhou family had reemerged… Seized control of the Royal Alliance holdings within the Iopa System, rechristened it all the ‘Protectorate of Second States’. Soon after, started to pass down mandates to all those deemed ‘Second States’.
That left Pete, Danny, and Rosie, pretty well in the lurch, Noreen doubted they even knew it yet.
Whether they did or not- they really did not have much choice but to finish the job…
The Atlas was a real basic design. It was like a short, stout tube. Cut through the middle with a deck of metal grating, which separated the upper compartment from the lower. The deck fell short of filling the forward section of the ship. More like a platform, one could drop back down to the lower sections from the front. The tube itself was capped with massive transparent dome that encapsulated the divided tube. Jutting from the ceiling was a massive mechanical arm, the end of which held the pilots chair. The arm allowed for the pilot to be shifted from high to low portions of the ship, and allowed for a good look at the forward locking clamps, just outside the dome. Locks that would eventually hold the massive tank, once attached. Usually a one-man ship, the hammock strung-up in the lower compartments allowed for his son to join, to learn what he could of the entire process; to one day take over the job itself.
Noreen found this chair was currently occupied by the Captain, Pete. His young son, Danny, made his way from the lower compartments. Heavy space boots clumped up the metal grating of the ships deck as the young boy hauled up the upper portion of his space gear. He let it fall off to the side as he took in the sight of the massive purple planet.
“Oh, am I glad to see that!” Danny announced as the small Collecting Station was finally close enough to see with the naked eye. Massive tanks were brought up from the submersed stations within the atmo of the planet, itself, and attached to these smaller outer-stations for pick-ups.
“Yep!” Pete called back to his son, “Not too far now!”
“Captain,” the small tin voice of Rosie interrupted, “I detect three ships, incoming.”
“Put them on my screen, Rosie,” Pete said simply.
The small holo-screen appeared before Pete as Danny made his way to one of the side terminals to get a look at what was going on as well. Three small ships could be seen hanging in the black of space.
“Those are Constable ships, aren’t they?” Danny asked- guessing from the ship’s markings. “I never saw them so small.”
“That would be my guess as well,” his father answered, then thought aloud, “They look like fighters. Haven’t seen those in a while…” then mumbled to himself, “Not since the Factions War…”
Noreen doubted the boy heard his rambling. By his elevated heart rate, she knew the father was now nervous. Considering the central ship had just sent a request to take control of the Atlas, Noreen thought he may have reason.
“What the?” Danny reacted to the very same fact.
“What is it son?” Pete asked.
“It looks like they are trying to hack our ship!” Danny announced as though it was ludicrous.
“Seriously?” Pete asked, “Rosie, can you confirm?”
“Yes,” the tin voice returned from the console, “Yes, they are. They are not succeeding though.”
“Of course not,” Dany said smugly, “I built that firewall myself!”
Noreen knew Danny had, indeed, built that firewall. She also knew the young pilot currently within the Protectorate Fighter was having a heck of a time trying to make his way past it.
“Young people and their hacking,” the father said to himself, “every generation thinks they finally ended the ability to hack other systems. Yet the young still manage to easily tackle the tangle that came before.”
There was a reason that children were so good at hacking. Anyone, that young, that can successfully code a request from the computer, should be rewarded for such. This was the philosophy of the AIs, that is. Of Noreen.
“Rosie,” Pete ordered, “Let’s try and jam that rude bastard.”
Fact was, both, the central-ships pilot and Danny, were young, but Noreen decided to favor the boy on the Atlas. The boy who had taken the time to put up such a strong firewall. And when the boy turned the tables, and requested to take control of the less protected fighter, Noreen rewarded his savvy…
“Oh, woops!” Danny said feigning an accident.
“What is it son?” Pete queried.
“Well, I may have something better,” Danny informed, cautiously, “I have access to that whole ship!”
“Good work, son,” Pete said, clearly impressed, “Shut it down.”
“Yes, Captain,” Danny stifled a laugh.
Noreen allowed for the central ship to lose all power, as requested; it started to drift.
“Okay, Rosie,” Pete ordered, “Hail the others.”
After a quick series of beeps and a new holo-screen appearing before the Pete’s chair… a Constable’s head filled the screen, before the officer could say a word:
“What the hell is your problem?” Pete appeared livid, Noreen was fairly confident it was a show, “Trying to hack my ships’ system? Are you guys serious?”
“Restore our ship and dock immediately!” The constable, ignoring Pete’s protests, commanded sternly.
“I’ll consider it— I got a job to do,” Pete shot back, “We got to hook that tank up before we can put in…”
“No, sir,” the constable interrupted, “That won’t be happening any time soon,”
“Excuse me?” Pete seethed.
“Orders from the Prime Constable of the Protectorate,” the officer proudly declared before relaying, “Umbrie ships are to be turned away– empty handed.”
“The who of the what now?? Hey, buddy, we aren’t just some ship looking for a refill,” Pete went into more detail, “I’m responsible for the pickup for the entire moon… that includes the space-stations orbiting, and every port on that moon…”
Noreen knew it was one, one port; no need to specify.
“We are aware of that,” the Constable confirmed then restated, adamantly, “We need you to power our ship back up and dock immediately.”
The silent grumble that followed the suddenly cut communication, left Pete with zero options.
“Danny, power that ship back up,” Pete said as he brought his chair down to the lower section, “Rosie, call in to the station for a dock location.”
“We are already assigned a dock, Captain,” the tin voice of Rosie informed.
“What the hell is going on?” Noreen heard Pete mutter to himself.
Discussion ¬