Peacekeeper 2 Read online

  Chapter 2

  Chroniech: Highly intelligent, ancient race possessing advanced technology. They are exceptionally xenophobic. Their entire body is covered in thick, black, wiry hair. They have an average height of just over 200 centimeters and have two arms and legs. A protruding jaw gives their face a canine appearance. Their society is based on a strict code of honor.

  The loud, staccato hammering of the make-shift tunneling rig abruptly stopped. Over the rumble of the refuse conveyor, the sound of falling debris quickly tapered off. On the other side of the dust barrier, Trink stared at the rig’s control screen.

  “What’s wrong with the damn thing now?” he mumbled to himself.

  “What’s wrong?” Trink heard someone yell.

  Turning around, he saw it was Masthuma, the chief engineer and his immediate supervisor.

  Trink flipped the earmuffs off his head and faced his superior. Speaking loudly so he could be heard over the noise of the conveyor, he said, “Damn thing quit again! It’s a near miracle it’s worked this long. We’re starship engineers, not miners.”

  Masthuma pushed his own hearing protection off his ears, sliding them up just enough to allow him to hear. “Just tell me what’s wrong,” he ordered. He was also not happy with this assignment but as Trink’s superior officer he could not allow his frustration to show.

  Trink sat down heavily in front of the portable control console. After wiping the dust off the screen, he tapped in a quick command. The conveyor began to slow, allowing them to speak to each other without having to yell.

  “If I’m reading this right,” he replied, “the rig shut itself down because it encountered something it can’t penetrate.”

  Leaning over Trink’s shoulder so he could see the display, Masthuma said, “That can’t be right. Have the drone run a scan.”

  Trink keyed in the command. “The drones weren’t designed for this sort of thing,” he complained, shaking his head. “The software it’s using is probably full of bugs. What kind of material would be down here that the rig couldn’t penetrate?”

  Masthuma ignored the question as the results of the scan appeared on the display. The raw data from the drone’s sensors appeared on the screen as a series of graphs. Under normal circumstances the data would be analyzed by the ship’s tactical analysis computer to provide a more meaningful summary of what the sensors had found. But nothing about their current situation was normal.

  Squinting his eyes in concentration, Masthuma said, “Looks like some sort of artificial object. I’m seeing a heavy concentration of refined metals. That can’t be possible. Maybe the sensors have malfunctioned.”

  A single tap on one of the screen’s virtual buttons brought up the drone’s diagnostic display. Leaning back and brushing the dust off his fur, Trink scanned the display with a practiced eye. “Everything appears to be working,” he said. Picking up a bottle of water, he filled his mouth, swished it around, then spat it out into a bucket next to the console.

  Coughing from the dust that Trink had brushed into the air, Masthuma said, “We’d better go take a look.”

  Trink punched in another command. “It’ll take hours for the dust to completely settle in this low gravity. Look at me,” he stretched his arms out, “I haven’t been past the dust shield since taking over the shift and I look like I’ve been rolling around in it.”

  Trink reached into a box and pulled out a pair of masks. “Here, you’d better put this on. I told the drone to pull the rig back a few meters to give us some room.”

  The two engineers donned their masks. Trink picked up a short metal tripod that was leaning against the wall as they pushed aside the dust curtain. They encountered the idle drilling rig a few meters down the tunnel.

  “Chief!” Trink yelled as Masthuma began to move past the end of the drone. “It’s not safe Sir. The repulsor beams are still active.”

  Masthuma took a step back as Trink approached. The rig was an ungainly looking contraption consisting of a large rotating disk with rows of cutting wheels mounted on one side. The end of the disk was resting on the floor of the tunnel. The back side of the cutter was attached to a dust-covered repair drone by several heavy braces. The drone itself floated in the air, held in place by three invisible beams of force.

  Trink approached the rig and placed the tripod underneath the drone. A heavy cable dangled from a box welded to the back side of the drone. It dropped down and ran along the floor of the tunnel back toward where they had just been. A single toggle switch was mounted on the box. Three slightly smaller cables ran from the box to three repulsor beam emitters welded to the drone’s outer skin. Flipping the switch caused the drone to drop onto the support with a loud bang.

  “It’s safe to proceed chief,” Trink announced.

  The engineers squeezed their way past the rig and its attached cutting wheel until they stood in front of the excavation site. Thick dust hung in the air allowing them to see the beams of their flashlights. The rock face was scarred where the cutting head had been grinding its way forward. A shiny metallic object could be seen protruding from the gray-colored rock. Trink tapped on it with his claw.

  “It’s real,” he said. His voice had a strange metallic sound from the respirator. “And if the scan is accurate, it extends all the way across this section of the tunnel and deep into either side.”

  “What is it?” Masthuma asked.

  “I don’t know,” Trink replied, rubbing the side of his head. “It’s definitely artificial.”

  “How is that possible? We’re ten meters below the surface of a rogue planetoid drifting through the depths of space!”

  “I don’t know.” Trink swung his light around to examine the rest of the tunnel.

  “Keep this to yourself,” Masthuma said after a few seconds of deliberation. “I don’t want anyone to start some wild rumor. Run a detailed scan of the entire area and send the results to my data-pad. Encrypt it with my personal code. I’ll inform the Commander.”

  “I’m going to have to unhook the cutting head from the drone to give its sensors an unobstructed view,” Trink replied. “I’ll have to back the drone out to the junction to give me enough room. Might take me a few minutes.”

  “Just do it,” Masthuma ordered.

  Chapter 3

  Gragrakch: Describes a spiritual relationship between two individuals. Most Rouldians believe that at the moment of creation, a new life is split into two complimentary halves. Like matter and antimatter, North-pole and South-pole, positive and negative charges, the two halves yearn to be whole again. Each half is trapped inside a physical body, one male, one female, incomplete, always searching for its other half. If the two halves encounter each other in the physical world, a connection is made. This belief is so deeply rooted in Rouldian culture that when two people declare themselves to be gragrakch, Rouldian law will treat them as a single individual.

  Alerted by the crunch of tires on gravel, the large Alaskan Malamute ran from behind the house barking at the intruder pulling into the driveway. The front door swung open and a man stuck his head out and waved.

  Climbing out of his tricycle, Tom waved back. The dog approached growling, her ears laid back, the hair on the scruff of her neck standing up.

  “It’s just me Rosy,” Tom said, extending his hand.

  The dog stopped growling and cautiously approached the visitor. Her demeanor changed from challenge to acceptance as she sniffed his outstretched hand.

  “I wonder what you smell like to her,” a woman yelled from the corner of the house. She was walking across the lawn pulling a pair of gardening gloves off her hands. Her long, light brown hair swirled around her face in the gentle breeze.

  “Beats me!” Tom yelled back. “Silicone and lubricating oil most likely.”

  “You’re early,” the man from the house said, intercepting his wife along the way. He was the taller of the two and dressed in a pair of shorts.

  Tom started to get back into the tricycle. “I don’t
want to inconvenience- - -”

  “Get back here!” the woman yelled, opening her arms as she approached.

  Tom reversed himself and gave his sister a hug.

  “Can’t they give you a softer body?” Cassandra asked after releasing him. “It’s like I’m trying to hug a light pole.”

  “Sorry sis,” Tom replied. “I’ll pass your concern on to the engineers who designed my cybernetics.” Turning to her husband, the two men shook hands. “How are you John?”

  “Good, good,” he replied with a slight Irish accent. “Enjoying the weather for once. It’s been raining almost every day for the past week. It quit the day you called to let us know you were back on Earth.”

  “Let’s get out of this heat,” Cassandra said, fanning her face. “There’s fresh lemonade inside.”

  “I need to finish cleaning up the grill before everyone else arrives,” John added.

  Cassandra grabbed Tom’s arm and led him toward the house. “It’s good to see you again,” she said, wrapping both her arms around his and leaning against him as they walked.

  “It’s good to see you too,” Tom replied, putting his opposite hand on her arm. Although it was awkward, they were making progress toward the house. “I told you I would come visit as soon as I got back.”

  “You always were a man of your word. Thank you for letting me throw this party,” she said, squeezing harder. “My friends have been dying to meet you.”

  “My pleasure,” Tom replied. “As long as I get to see my sister.”

  Opening the door for him, she said, “The kids said they’ll call later this evening. I guess they both have exams today.”

  “Make yourself at home,” she said. “I’ll be right back.”

  Tom stood in the middle of the living room afraid to sit down on any of the furniture. His excessive weight and metal body could easily rip the soft leather of the sofa and recliner. There was a wooden glider in one corner but it certainly would have collapsed if he’d sat in it. A television flanked by two tall bookshelves took up one entire wall. A large window opposite the sofa looked out toward the front of the house. A family portrait surrounded by smaller individual pictures took up the space behind the sofa. He walked across the carpet to get a closer look.

  Cassandra walked into the room carrying two glasses of lemonade. Tom accepted one and took a sip. “God that’s good!” he said.

  Pointing to the sofa, she said, “Have a seat.”

  “I’m far too heavy to sit on your furniture,” Tom said with a smile. “I’m perfectly fine standing.”

  “Well I’m going to have a seat,” she replied, sitting down. “I’ve been working in the garden most of the day and I need a break.”

  The two siblings chatted for half an hour before they were interrupted by the sound of the doorbell. Draining the last of her lemonade, Cassandra stood up and said, “That’s probably someone coming for the party. Think you can find your way out back?”

  “Of course I can.”

  “Then I’m going to go answer the door. I’ll see you out back.”

  Tom found his way to the back porch where John was in the process of putting hamburgers on the grill.

  “How do you like your burgers?” John asked.

  “Well done and smothered in cheese,” Tom replied.

  “Thanks for letting Cassandra introduce you to her friends. She’s been planning this party since you left Earth. It means a lot to her.”

  “It’s the least I can do,” Tom replied. “We still have a lot of catching up to do.”

  It had been almost a year since Lashpa intervened to bring Tom and his sister back together. Prior to that, he’d not spoken to her for over ten years because he blamed her for the death of his parents in a house fire. She had come home drunk late one night and thrown her coat over an old electric heater before passing out on the couch. The coat caught fire and his parents, sleeping in the basement of his aunt’s house, both died.

  “Tom?” Cassandra asked, her head poking out the partially open door.

  “Back here,” he replied, stepping into her line of sight.

  “Oh good!” The door opened farther and Cassandra, followed by another woman, stepped through. “I’d like you to meet Paula. She owns a diner just down the road.”

  Paula stepped forward, looked him straight in the eye, and extended a hand. “I’ve never met a peacekeeper before. Glad to meet you Tom. Cassandra talks about you all the time.”

  Tom was a little surprised. Most people were noticeably nervous when meeting a peacekeeper for the first time. Paula didn’t seem the least bit bothered by his deep black, shiny eyes, or the fact that he looked more like an android than Cassandra’s brother. She was the same height as he and dressed for the heat in a light shirt and shorts. Her handshake was firm and she flashed him a smile that caused him to instantly like her.

  “Glad to meet you Paula,” he replied.

  “Her diner serves the best breakfast in town,” Cassandra said. Gesturing with her thumb toward the house, she added, “I’ve got to start getting the rest of the food out. You two get to know each other.”

  Tom watched his sister as she rushed back into the house. Not wanting to be rude, he focused his attention on Paula. “She doesn’t have much practice,” she said.

  “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “At trying to be a matchmaker,” Paula said through a smile.

  Tom couldn’t help but smile back. Despite being annoyed at Cassandra, he found himself liking the person she had just thrust at him. Paula’s best attribute wasn’t her plain looks or her short, curly, brown hair; it was her down-to-earth, no-nonsense personality.

  “She means well,” he said.

  “Never thought I’d meet a cyborg,” she said, grabbing a beer out of the cooler. “What’s it feel like?”

  “It’s not that different than my old body,” he said, shaking his head to refuse the beer she offered him. “Cold and heat no longer bother me and pain has become a distant memory.”

  Paula twisted the cap off the beer and downed a healthy swallow. “So other than the obvious arms, legs, and eyes, what else has been replaced?”

  “Both ears. One of my lungs was removed to make room for an electronics package. My nasal passages have been modified to include chemical sensors and to protect me against atmospheric hazards.” Tapping the top of his head he continued, “My entire skull has been replaced with an armored head-piece that also allows me to communicate with my ship.”

  “Good Lord! You got the package deal.” Reaching out, she tapped his chest armor like she was knocking on a door. “Is this removable or are you sealed up like a can of tuna?”

  Cassandra appeared in the doorway with another couple as Tom reached up and grabbed his chest plate. A mental command directed to his biolink unlocked it. He pulled it away exposing his chest. He was wearing a gray-colored shirt that looked more like a finely-woven metal mesh rather than something made of cloth.

  Paula ran her hand over it. “It’s soft. What’s it made of?” she asked.

  “Various synthetic materials,” Tom replied, replacing the chest plate. “It cushions any impacts and protects my skin from chafing. It also acts as a thermoregulator.”

  “Mind if I ask what powers it all?” one of the new arrivals asked. He was a very tall, lanky man who towered above his considerably shorter Asian wife.

  Tom’s reply was delayed by a barely noticeable three seconds as the Orion fed him a quick bio on the new arrivals. It was like having another voice inside his head. “Oliver and Malinda Finsted. Engineer. Nurse.”

  “A network of micro power accumulators built into my cybernetics,” Tom replied. “And, before you ask, yes I have to recharge.”

  “So you’re battery powered?” Paula asked.

  “Not exactly. Power accumulators are kind of like batteries but they’re not based on a chemical reaction. They store energy in a circulating electric current using room temperature superconductors.”
r />   Paula tilted her head and made a show of looking him over. “I don’t see a plug.”

  Tom couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s an inductive connection,” he explained. “There are charging stations built into my tricycle and other places around my ship.”

  Flames and smoke shot out of the grill as John flipped the burgers. “He still has to eat though! The burgers are almost done.”

  “Is it true your skeleton has been replaced?” Oliver asked, then quickly added, “I hope that’s not classified information. I’m an engineer and from an engineering point of view it’s simply not possible for a peacekeeper to use the full strength of their cybernetics unless the skeleton has been strengthened.”

  “Most of my major bones have been replaced by duralloy,” Tom admitted. “My spine is original but it’s surrounded by a flexible duralloy tube.”

  More guests began to arrive and Tom quickly found himself surrounded. He was having such a good time he hardly noticed when Cassandra handed him a plate piled high with potato salad, beans, a deviled egg, and a perfectly cooked cheeseburger. People drifted in and out of the conversation as they left to refill their plates or grab another beverage.

  Before he knew it, two hours had passed. Tom finally had to excuse himself from the party when Cassandra’s kids called from college. By the time they were done talking, most of the guests had departed. Paula was the only one left. Tom had the distinct impression she had stuck around in order to see him one more time.

  “It was good to meet you,” she told him. “If you’re around in the morning feel free to have breakfast at the diner. I really do make a killer omelet.”

  “I’m afraid I won’t be here,” Tom replied. “But the next time I’m in town I promise I’ll stop by.”

  The door had barely closed behind Paula when Cassandra said, “I was hoping you would stick around for a few days.”

  Tom could tell by the tone of her voice she was not only disappointed but a little upset as well. “I’m leaving tonight for Glish,” he replied.