Art:Space Pirates/Edny's Story
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Edny's Story
Edny's First Adventure
by Daynarius
The day had started like most Mondays, except that I was a bit groggier than usual. The 112th installment of the Harry Potter series had been released the week before (Harry Potter and the Curse of the Arthritic Joints), and I’d stayed up most of the night re-reading it. As I stumbled out the door to go to work, my cat gave me a look that clearly said, “Missed your bedtime, did you? Tsk tsk.”
It was a typical Intergalactic Trade Federation work-day. I spent most of the morning at the Calliope Station office processing commodity-transfer requests, completing and filing the proper documents. Sure, I was a little drowsy, but lunch was imminent, and a strong cup of coffee would fix me right up. It was as I was sipping the coffee that the entire course of my life changed.
If I hadn’t been so tired, I probably would have noticed her rush into the front office. I would have called security and locked my door, and the whole adventure would have been avoided. But I was, and I didn’t, and she came barging through my door with an overwhelming sense of urgency.
“You’ve got to come with me! Now!”
“Wha . . .” was all I managed to get out, before she grabbed my arm and punched the button on her transporter node. We rematerialized on the main deck of a grungy freighter. I gaped. It was all I could manage at the moment. From the equipment I could see, I guessed I was on a smallish merchant vessel. There was a crew of seven or eight manning the various consoles. Everyone looked haggard, as though they’d been working round the clock for one too many hours. I took a good look at my kidnapper. She was slightly built, ivory-skinned with thick black hair. She wore an eye patch with an X insignia entwined by a snake. She was beautiful, and intimidating, and engaging, all at the same time. My heart gave a small unexpected leap, and then plunged back down to my stomach when she told me why I was there.
“We’re the ship Oliver’s Folly . . . ”
I gulped.
“. . . and we’re about to be attacked by a navy vessel.”
I gulped again.
“You need to call them off, Edny.” She said this in a tone that did not brook refusal, but a rising panic had finally put my vocal chords into action.
“Look, I don’t know how you know my name, or why you grabbed me from my office, or what you think I can possibly do about a Navy attack. I’m an ITF agent! I do paperwork! I can’t tell some military captain what he can and cannot do with your ship, which, by the way, I happen to know is a pirate ship.”
“Tell them that you’re on board, doing an official ITF inspection, that we’re under your jurisdiction. We know you have enough rank to pull this off. If you do not call them off, you will soon be nothing more than flotsam and jetsam floating through space, along with us and our ship.”
My mind raced to find another solution to this problem, but it came up empty.
“We’re turning on the video-com. You must act, or we all die. It’s up to you.”
An imposing figure in uniform suddenly filled the view screen, and a voice boomed over the speakers. “I am Captain Nicholas Worthington of the Galactic Navy vessel President Bartlet. Surrender your ship and its cargo, or be destroyed.”
“Uhhh, Captain, sir, I’m, uh, I’m Tier 5 ITF agent Edny Pachenga.” My voice hadn’t broken so much since junior high. “The Calliope Sector ITF office has taken jurisdiction over this ship, and I’m on board performing a comprehensive inspection. I must ask you to stand down.” An untimely squeak made my statement sound far more like a question than a command.
One of the pirates murmured just loud enough for me to hear, “Bartlet’s got all five phaser banks trained on us, and they’re charged to full power. We will not survive a direct hit.” I decided I’d better sound a little more authoritative.
“Stand down your weapons, sir, and let me go about my business.” I got that out without a single crack in my voice, and did my best to look Captain Worthington straight in the eye. “I can provide you with the documentation verifying our authority in this case, but you will stand down, now. I really must insist.”
Captain Worthington looked at me through the screen. He seemed to take a moment to size up my statements, and perhaps my determination. Somehow, I held his gaze, and I saw a change in his expression that told me he was about to relent.
“Very well, Mr. Pachenga,” he said, in a slightly disgruntled tone. “Carry on with your little inspection. But I’m sending my trans-com ID down to your office, and I expect to be notified the minute, the minute your inspection is done. Will that do?”
“Yes, thank you, we’ll keep you informed. Good day, sir.” The video-com went black, and I nearly collapsed.
“Well done, Edny. I knew you could do it.” Her voice was as beautiful as her face, but I steeled myself against the sudden butterflies in my chest and resolved to find out why she’d dragged me into her mess.
“Who are you? How do you know my name? Why did you drag me into your mess?” I groped my way to an empty chair and waited for answers. For a long time, her good eye bored into me in a most disconcerting manner. I tried to distract myself from the heart-flutters brought on by the emerald flecks in the deepest blue I’d ever seen; I stared at her patch, and counted the dents in the wall above her head, and imagined what my cat would think if he knew where I was. Despite my efforts, my gaze was pulled back to hers.
“My name is Prasti Centra,” she began slowly. “We’re trying to transport something to the Geneval system. The Galactic government knows about our cargo and its destination, and although they support the mission, they cannot acknowledge it. That’s why we need your help.”
“How do you know my name?”
“Before we started, I made myself familiar with the names and stats of all upper-level ITF agents we might meet en route. Just in case we had to talk ourselves out of any comprehensive inspections.” A hint of smile of played about her face, then faded. “Now that we’ve got Captain Worthington on our tail, we may need you and your connections to help us reach our destination. We should be there in two days.”
“What’s the cargo?”
After a moment of deliberation, Prasti turned to leave the bridge. She beckoned for me to follow. As we walked through the dimly lit corridors, she told me a little bit about her passion for all things mechanical.
“I’ve been fascinated by how things work for as long as I can remember. Whenever my parents gave me a new toy, I’d take it apart and try to put it back together. I developed little patience for things that required chips and processors, but I learned to love real, tangible mechanisms. Pulleys and levers, wheels and gears and belts. Real things that I can build with my own hands, without a computer telling me what to do.”
I’d tasted a little of what she felt in my own mathematical studies. The fact that I’d not specialized in physics had long been a source of quiet regret.
She continued. “I’ve spent many years searching for a mechanically-driven power source. I’d read about them in ancient history texts, about devices that can harness the energy of water. And now I’ve built one.”
I exclaimed, “But all that information was lost almost two centuries ago, in the wreckage of the First Galactic War.”
“Knowledge is never truly lost, as long as there are those who search for it. The essential parts for a fully functional hydropower plant are sitting in the hull of this ship.”
We walked through a door, into a cargo locker. The names on the containers were relics from another time. Wicket Gate. Rotor. Turbine Generator Shaft. They conjured up images not far removed from cavemen and typewriters. I was fascinated, but still a little skeptical. “What purpose could this ever serve? The Stellar Power Complex delivers all the energy we need, and, anyway, everything is designed to run off solar cells.”
She pulled some papers from one of the boxes, and showed me a basic schematic for the hydro plant. “There’s a small planet on the edge of the Geneval system that is run by a tyrannical dictator. He hoards solar cells, distributing the power only to those loyal to him. A society of resistors are trying to overthrow him, but they need energy. This ancient device can be the key to their progress. We must get it into their hands.”
She led me out of the locker and up to the mess deck. We didn’t talk much on the way, which was just as well. I had a lot of information to process, and my exhausted brain was wistfully thinking about the cup of coffee sitting on my office desk.
“Coffee?” She offered me a mug as we sat at a table. “Our meals are all the prepackaged stuff, but we do keep the coffee hot, fresh, and always available.
“You will help us?” she asked, after a pause.
I sat in silence for a bit, considering my life, my options, and my mug. “If the government won’t officially acknowledge your mission, then my ITF career basically over. When my supervisors find out about the charade I pulled on Captain Worthington, I’ll be lucky to get a job in the mail room. I’ll help you make the delivery. After that, I might want to stay on with your crew, and learn what you know about mechanics.” I silently added, “No woman has ever fascinated me the way you do, so I’d also like to spend hours and days and months getting to know you.”
She pierced me with that magnificent eye, and gave me a single nod. Another smile snuck across her lips. That was all the encouragement I needed. I knew I had begun a brand new chapter in my life, and for the very first time, the prospect of actually participating in real adventure excited me.
“I’ll just need to pick a few things up from my apartment on our way back through Calliope. I’ve got some books I don’t want to leave behind, and then there’s also the matter of bringing my cat . . .”
