Short Cut To Farside - Part Two

     I wrote part one for this quite sometime ago. You really should read it first if you haven't already. Do a search!

     Wormholes are nice in that they not only transport you across vast distances almost instantaneously, but in doing so they boost your speed to otherwise unobtainable levels. The Edison was short as far as wormholes are concerned. It's a good thing too because they are a bit disorienting to navigate. Sniffers and shooters love to get all doped up on their favorite drug and fly through wormholes as slow as they can. You can often pick up their captivating chatter on subspace channels. You'd hear things like 'pretty colors' and 'did you see that one' and 'groovy'. You would think we were back in the nineteen sixties psychedelic age or something.

     I was never known to pay that much attention to maintenance or consider upgrade options for The Flighty One. As long as it got me to where I was going, I was happy. One thing I did upgrade on my ship was the inertia damper. I couldn't afford to do anything with the engines, and with the common use of wormholes for optimizing travel time, the inertia dampers seemed like the obvious choice for modifications.

     All the inertia dampers really did is create a personal, bubble like force field around your body to protect you from the tremendous g-forces you are subjected to during abnormal acceleration. My engines weren't capable of exerting abnormal acceleration of course, but the wormholes certainly could.

     As The Flighty One entered the Edison, the automatics on the inertia dampers kicked in and the normal blurring spatial distortion began filling the view screens. I never ate before going into a wormhole, the corkscrewing coaster ride made it difficult to keep your stomachs contents where they belonged, for me at least. One thing you didn't want to do is lose your lunch while inside the inertia damper force field. It's like trying to dodge raindrops in a torrential downpour; it can't be done.

     I could just make out the guy in the speedster on my long-range scanners as I exited the Edison. He was heading straight for the Midway Worm Cluster. I was headed in the opposite direction towards the Barium Black Hole. He must have spotted me too because he buzzed me on the com unit again.

     "Hey, dumb ass! You're going the wrong way," he laughed. "Kelly and I will be missing you at the party, but we'll find something to do while we're waiting!"

     "In case you haven't noticed, at the rate you're going, you'll be a half hour late," I shot back. "Kelly and I will have a new list made up when you get there, and you're not going to be on it."

     "You idiot, you're not going to try to fly through the Barium are you? Did you fill out the suicide permit?" He asked.

     "I don't need no stinking permit!"

     That's the only thing I could think of to say on short notice. Those old twentieth century westerns I watched sure came in handy when you needed something snappy to taunt an opponent with. Pretty boy was getting on my nerves.

     "Well I guess Kelly and I won't be seeing you after all, will we?" He asked. "And by the way, Kelly doesn't have a list anymore."

     We flew in opposite directions and out of communication range before I could taunt him further. I couldn't help but wonder about Kelly's list though. Could it be true? Was my suicidal act of devoted perseverance to make it to Kelly's a waste of time? It didn't matter. Pretty boy might just be jerking my chain. He was the one who was going to be late. I would be waiting for him, even if Kelly was through with me.

     The Barium Black Hole loomed menacingly ahead. Even though it was a favorite checkout lane for the permit carrying suicide cases, it was also a little-known fact that it could be successfully navigated. Not that normal travelers with undamaged minds would attempt such a foolhardy thing. But desperation leads one to become more creative and to push the envelope beyond the point where the lure of fame, fortune, or the possibility of a hot date overrides concern for ones safety. Or more simply put, love makes you do stupid things.

     Much to my surprise, whatever bravado it was that set me upon this insane path to win Kelly's heart over suddenly eluded me. My second thoughts came seconds to late unfortunately. The Barium had me in its greedy grasp and was not about to be denied its prize.

     The Flighty One seemed about to split at her seams as the speed gauge blurred beyond readability and shorted out. Cautionary signs flashed by requiring pilots to transmit their suicide permit registration number, last will and testaments. Violators will be prosecuted. The fact that no one was expected to survive served to point out the glaring absurdity with which us humans are governed in our daily lives.

     While my inertia damper was totally oblivious to its own inadequacies, I on the other hand was experiencing first hand what it felt like to be crushed mercilessly by a mutant grape press from hell. I had to grab an oxygen facemask, doubling the output of air to force my chest to expand because I was unable to breathe on my own. What ever made me think I could do this? I looked down at my normally bulging belly only to find it looked as though I had lost thirty pounds, but I had expanded a foot wider!

     As my tortured mind struggled to make sense of the idiocy of my decision to make the Barium run, I attempted to command my disobeying limbs to move so that I could at least be assured I was still alive. With a Herculean effort, I tried to move my hand up in front of my eyes. Just as I did, I blasted through the other side of the Barium Black Hole, the crushing acceleration leveled off and my hand flew up into my face and hit me right in the nose. The indignity of it all. I survived the black hole unscathed only to hit myself in the face, giving myself a bloody nose. The untold risks of space travel never cease to amaze me.

     Now that I was once again in full control of my facilities, I had to give serious though as to whether to continue on in my quest to put a sparkle in Kelly's eye. To show her how I adore her in such a way that I would recklessly abandon any concern for my own safety just to be by her side. Or, at the very least, if for no other reason than to punch pretty boy in the face.

     While mulling all this over, I reached for a spill cloth to wipe my bloodied nose and some unconscious force made my hand inexplicably and quite accidentally brush up against the destination override switch. A klaxon should have immediately sounded. Red lights and bells and flashing strobes should have been activated. A message should have appeared on my monitor, "Abort destination, pilot? Are you sure?"

     A sinking feeling came over me as I sat in the oppressive silence of The Flighty One's pilot's seat. I had changed my mind. I was allowed to do that, wasn't I? My hand knew that I had changed my mind before I did. That's why it had tested the abort switch. The same stupid hand that had engaged the destination navigator in the first place had tested the abort switch and it had failed.

     Ok, I can deal with this. This is what I was born for. I would either make it through the Midway Worm Cluster, or I wouldn't. I would either get to Kelly's first and punch pretty boy in the face, or they would find me drifting in space, trapped inside my inertia damper. A skeleton with the skin ripped from its frame and pooled along with all the other gore at its feet.

     No! I wouldn't let it end that way. I was already traveling faster than any human had ever gone before. I refused to waste my notable achievement in death. I still had five minutes until I reached midway. I knew I could survive this! All I had to do is figure out how...

To be continued...