by J G Cressey
After a few moments of tracking its path, Jumper swore out loud. He was no expert on ships or indeed flying, but even to his untrained eye, it was plain to see that the little craft was on a collision course. Slinging his longeye rifle over his back, he glanced up one last time then snatched up his pack and set off at a run.
Chapter Three
REJECT RAFT
Cal’s eyes flickered open and struggled to focus through the ice-covered glass of the coffin-like cryo-capsule. A flow of warm air had begun to fill the capsule whilst an impossibly smooth female voice issued instructions. Remain calm. An early awakening from your cryo-sleep has been deemed necessary. Please lay still, breathe deeply, and—
Shit.
Cal slammed his elbow into the cryo-capsule’s manual override and stiffly kicked it open to let a rush of cold air shock his body into action. Something was wrong, seriously wrong. Waking a crew early from a cryo-sleep was a last resort, especially a crew of rejects. The sudden recollection of his situation made him wince. A fucking reject raft. Still, he had to be thankful he was at least being ferried back to Earth. Decker could have just as easily sent him to one of the thousands of subpar colonies or even a fringe space prison planet.
Stumbling onto his bare feet, which partially stuck to the near frozen metal grating, Cal looked around the ship’s interior and attempted to assess the situation as fast as his foggy brain would allow. The rest of the crew were still in their capsules, probably caught in the grip of panic and oblivious to the ship’s soothing instructions. Everything else appeared normal. Quickly, he moved to the flight controls, his cold limbs protesting all the way.
“Where the hell are we?” he muttered whilst hitting the shield release for the exterior viewing panel. The thick barrier lazily slid upwards to reveal the dazzling glare of an outside world. Cal’s eyes took a moment to adjust then grew wide. Two things were immediately apparent: The first was that he and his fellow rejects had not arrived at Earth, and the second was that they were in deep shit.
The hover beacon, which was rapidly filling the viewing panel, had a ludicrous number of lights, none of which were illuminated that suggested that it was offline, something that Cal had never encountered in all his years of piloting. The beacon wasn’t even being detected by the ship’s systems.
Ignoring the supplied hammer, Cal punched his fist through the protective glass covering the manual controls. Shoving his hand into the flight glove, he braced himself against the console and twisted the glove hard right, causing the ship to bank sharply. A second later, the ship’s left landing wing tore into the beacon, and a stabilizer was wrenched clean out of its housing. Cal’s grip within the flight glove instantly failed him as his body was launched sideways. Pain exploded in his side as he collided with a cold, unforgiving wall. The impact turned his vision into a color-filled haze, which, once dissipated, allowed him a blurred view of shuddering metal and glass. A screeching warning alarm filled the ship’s cramped interior, an excessive sound that seemed entirely redundant in a ship that was quiet obviously crashing.
The ship was listing severely and Cal had to dig his fingers into the deck’s metal grating in order to drag himself back towards the flight console. It was an effort that wasn’t helped by the hale of dislodged ice fragments that were now freely raining down on him. Hauling himself into the flight chair and jamming his hand back into the flight glove, he did his best to level the ship. Blood trickled down his forehead. He wiped it away and fixed his eyes on the vast canopy of lush jungle vegetation that was rushing by below.
Too much ground, not enough sky, he thought grimly as he heaved back on the flight glove.
Heat created by the ship’s entry into the planet’s atmosphere had finally reached the interior walls and was causing any remaining ice to melt and drip freely. Cal wiped a mixture of this melted ice and his own blood from his eyes and risked a glance back at the cryo-capsules. Only one of them had opened, out of which a young man with tanned skin and a tangle of long, blond hair was sitting up and staring at him with wide eyes. He was fiercely gripping the side of his shuddering capsule.
“What the hell?” the young man yelled over the piercing alarm.
Ignoring him, Cal turned back to the flight console and hit a control, which promptly closed the capsule’s lid on the man’s head, forcing him to lie back down as the vacuum seal muted any further cries of distress. Before turning his attentions back to the outside world, Cal quickly locked the other three capsules.
The hull of the ship was skimming the tops of the trees now. With his free hand, Cal fumbled at the manual crash restraints on the top of the flight chair. He was used to smart-straps that closed around the body at the touch of a button. Unfortunately, it seemed rejects weren’t worth the expense. Unable to fasten the restraints, he tried loosening his grip on the flight glove, but the ship immediately started to tip.
A huge branch thudded into the front of the ship, and the resulting lurch threw Cal painfully against the controls. Well aware that he could soon be sharing a similar fate to the bugs smeared on the viewing panel, he unlocked the flight seat with his free hand, spun it around so it faced the rear of the ship, and locked it in place. Sitting reversed in the chair, he braced his legs beneath the arm rests.
As the ship bored its way through the canopy, Cal caught a brief glimpse of huge, pillar-like tree trunks bestrewn with twists of thick, knotted vines. Exactly how I remember it, he thought as he buried his chest and face into the back of the chair and waited for the inevitable impact.
Chapter Four
AN UNLIKELY TRIO
Cal clung to the flight chair like driftwood in a stormy sea. With his eyes shut tight and his face pressed hard against the worn padding, every bang and bump seemed painfully amplified as the ship barrelled its way through a seemingly endless array of branches and tangled vines. Eventually, the ship slowed, then Cal felt it flip and begin to drop upside-down. He gritted his teeth and clung tighter still, horribly aware that if his grip failed him, his head would pay the price. Thankfully, the landing turned out to be surprisingly and mercifully soft.
The inverted ship had turned dark. Doing his best to drop gracefully to its ceiling, Cal peered through the gloom and tried to assess the state of the craft. It seemed relatively stable, but the viewing panel was mostly blocked, and only a few dim, blinking lights offered any illumination. Every inch of his body throbbed painfully as he made his way to the ship’s external door. Fortunately, his head had stopped bleeding, and nothing felt broken. He activated the opening mechanism, and the thick, metallic door hissed and groaned eerily as it attempted to slide open. After a moment of mechanical strain, a tall gap about two feet wide opened up to the bright outside world. Satisfied, Cal stiffly made his way to first cryo-capsule—the one from which the young blond man had made a brief appearance—and reached up to its control panel. A shower of dried crash foam rained down on Cal as the blond man spilled out. Shielding his eyes from the foam, Cal did his best to break the man’s fall.
“What the hell’s going on?”
“Relax, you’ve been in a crash,” Cal explained as he pulled the man to his feet and directed him towards the partially opened door. Some of the dried foam had turned to floating dust and was making the already dim cabin darker still.
“I can’t bloody see.”
“It’s just the dust. Head towards the light.”
Turning back around, the young man felt for Cal with panicked hands. “Am I dead, bro?”
Cal almost laughed. “No, you’re very much alive,” he said and firmly turned the man back towards the door. “Just head towards the bright gap. It’s a door, not the afterlife.”
By the time Cal had opened the other two capsules and helped the surprisingly small occupants down and out of the gap, the interior of the ship was literally filled with thick dust. Coughing loudly and avoiding the temptation to wipe his eyes, Cal exited the ship into the brightness of day and took a moment to suck in a couple of deep br
eaths. His bewildered companions were already a dozen paces from the ship, sprawled out on a bank of soft, rusty colored mud. He looked around at the surrounding jungle then glanced up at the sky. Christ. Why the hell had they been redirected here?
Brushing himself down, Cal made his way over to his new companions. They were certainly not what he had expected. He’d been a last minute addition to the reject raft and hadn’t seen the three who had entered the cryo-capsules a good hour before him. They were the most unlikely trio to have come from a Class One Military Starship that he could possibly imagine even if they were rejects.
The young, blond man looked half asleep, possibly a little dazed from a knock to the head. Cal guessed that he was probably in his late teens or maybe early twenties. He certainly appeared strong and healthy enough to be a soldier, but Cal thought him more suited to riding a surfboard than firing a pulse rifle. Next to him was a girl of a similar age. She was pretty; petite; and, if it weren’t for her military style buzz cut and combat fatigues, would have appeared straight from the cover of a teen fashion shoot. The girl seemed unhurt and was already climbing to her feet. The last member of the crew was definitely just a boy, Cal guessed maybe fourteen or fifteen.
This trio wasn’t going to get far without him, not on a planet like this. Cal shook his head and smiled at the irony. No more giving orders, no more responsibility. Fate could be a bitch. He rubbed the back of his head. “Well, I got us on the ground,” he said, glancing back at the inverted ship.
“Crappy landing,” the boy mumbled. Cal noticed he was clasping his left shoulder.
“Are you hurt?”
Before he could get an answer, the girl with the buzz cut straightened up and gave a ridged salute. “Sorry, sir, didn’t recognize you. Private Cole, division one ten.”
Cal waved her hand down, finding himself a little taken aback by the volume of her voice. “No need for that. What’s your first name, Private Cole?”
“Edwina, sir, friends call me Eddy.”
Cal nodded. “Okay, Eddy, you mind doing something for me?”
“Name it, sir.”
“First, call me Cal, and second, have a rummage around the ship for a med kit?” More of a request than an order.
“Right away, sir,” The girl replied before eagerly darting back towards the wrecked ship.
Cal turned back to the boy. “She’s a live one, eh?”
The boy shot him a small, unconvincing smile.
“Mind if I take a look at that shoulder?”
“S’no big deal. I reckon it’ll be okay in a minute,” the boy replied, a wobble in his voice.
“Good, but it won’t hurt to check it just in case.” Before the boy could protest, Cal bent down and began to examine the injury. “What’s your name?”
“Viktor.”
“Well, Viktor I’m afraid your shoulder’s dislocated.”
The boy shook his head, allowing a couple of tears to escape. “It’ll be okay, don’t worry about it.”
“You’re right. It will be okay once I deal with it.”
Looking fearful, the boy awkwardly shuffled back a little way.
“It’ll be quick,” Cal assured him.
The boy screwed up his face. “Will it hurt?”
“A little.” A bloody lot.
Cal turned to see that the girl named Eddy was already exiting the ship. She ran towards them, holding up a small, white box as she did so. The boy had also turned to look. Taking advantage of his distraction, Cal reached down, grabbed his skinny arm, and gave it a quick, hard yank, expertly popping it back into its socket.
The boy yelped. “What the hell, you bloody psycho!” He scrambled out of Cal’s reach, teeth gritted.
“Sorry, but a dislocated shoulder’s better sorted out sooner rather than later,” Cal said as Eddy bounded up, holding out the med kit. Cal took it and, after a quick dig around, pulled out a small white disc. He looked down at the boy, who was now watching him with an understandably wary eye. “You’re a brave chap, Viktor. Most soldiers cry like babies after having their shoulders popped.” He tossed the little white disc to him. “This pain patch will get rid of the burning; just slap it on the front of your shoulder.”
Viktor snatched the pain patch up without a second thought and managed a small nod of thanks.
Passing the med kit back to Eddy, Cal saw that the young, blond man was on his feet and was peering over the girl’s shoulder. “Got any of the good stuff in that kit?’
“You hurt?” Cal asked.
“No, not really. But I’ve a keen interest pharmaceuticals,” he replied, reaching over towards the kit.
“Get your damn junky fingers outa there, blondie, or I’ll break ‘um off,” the girl warned.
The blond man chuckled at that.
“What ya laughin’ at, idiot?” she snapped.
“Chill out, little chick, I just—”
Cal never thought it possible that such a delicate-looking girl could pack such a powerful punch. The blond man hit the mud with a dull thud. Understandably, it seemed to take him a few moments to register what had just happened, but eventually, he propped himself up on one elbow and glared at the girl. “What the hell?” he protested, cupping his bloody nose.
“Don’t call me chick,” Eddy replied simply as she casually returned her attentions to the med kit.
The blond man wiped some blood off his chin roughly with his sleeve. “Okay, point taken.” He looked up at Cal, bemused.
Definitely not getting far without me. Cal offered the young man a hand up which was promptly accepted.
“Thanks. At least someone around here’s got some manners,” he said, his voice slightly muffled as he pressed his sleeve up under his nose. “I’m loving the old school English accent by the way.”
Cal replied with a smile. “Sorry for shutting the cryo-capsule on your head earlier, but you’d have been far worse off otherwise.”
“Reckon you’d be right on that score, um, Cal right?”
“That’s sir to you, blondie,” Eddy interjected.
The young man removed his arm from under his nose to reveal a broad, white-toothed grin. “Despite being proud of my fine blond locks, I prefer the name Toker,” he said. “How’d a pretty little thing like you get so damn hostile?”
The girl scowled.
“Actually, Eddy, I never did like being called sir,” Cal said as he turned on the spot to have another good look at their surroundings. “But let’s finish our introductions later. Our crash may have attracted attention.”
At this statement, the odd trio fell silent and joined him in looking about. At first, the surrounding jungle seemed quiet and still. After a few moments of peering into the huge trees, however, life became obvious shuffling, creeping and fluttering in just about every direction. High above them, small birds streaked through the jungle canopy in colorful, aerobatic displays, the odd one swooping down to the jungle floor where a myriad of insects busied themselves amongst the red mud and fallen fruits. In contrast, large, slow creatures, full of fur and long, curved claws, lazily crawled among the mammoth tree trunks and vines with seemingly little enthusiasm.
The boy Viktor was the first to break the silence. “Does anyone even know where we are?”
Cal noted a dreamy tone in his voice from the fast-acting pain patch.
“Well, it certainly ain’t Earth,” Toker replied as he ran a hand through his long hair. “Too many trees and too damn hot.”
“He’s right; it’s not Earth,” Cal said, continuing to scope the surrounding trees. “Don’t ask me how, but we’ve ended up crashing deep in the Big Game Zone.”
“Mars…? The Big Game Zone…?” Toker asked, his tanned skin rapidly losing its colour. “You’re screwing with us, right?” Suddenly, a great deal of the cool edge had left the young man’s voice.
“Afraid not,” Cal replied. “We’ll be okay, but we should get moving.” He glanced at each of them. “Best collect anything useful from the ship. But bear
in mind we’ve a long trek ahead and might have to run at times.”
Toker and a wobbly looking Viktor wasted no time hurrying back over to the ship, leaving Cal and Eddy standing alone.
“Nothing you want from the ship, Eddy?” Cal asked, keeping his attention on the trees.
“No, sir. Bastards wouldn’t let me take me guns on board.”
Cal nodded. “Bastards indeed. Would’ve been handy having a few guns.”
“You reckon there’s hostiles nearby, Cal, sir?”
“If you mean animals big enough to tip us off the peak of the food chain, then yep.”
“There’s a scalpel here in the med kit. D’you wannit?” she asked, eagerly pulling out the tiny, silver blade.
“Er, you hold onto it for now,” Cal suggested. He was beginning to suspect that size was of little importance to this girl. “So how did you end up on a reject raft, Eddy?”
“Permission to speak freely, Cal, sir?” she asked after a slight hesitation.
“Sure. And just call me Cal.”
“Right, yeah… Cal… sorry,” the girl said, looking a little conflicted. “Thing was…my commanding officer was a bit of an arsehole, thought I was out of control, endangering missions cos I was too eager to kick arse. Said I was nuts.”
“And he put you on the reject raft for being over eager?’ Cal asked, puzzled. Even for the military, the punishment seemed a little harsh.
“Well, he had a real go at me one day, talked at me all high and mighty like…so I kinda ended up kicking his arse.”
Cal grinned.
“Well I never let any of my brothers get away with talkin’ at me like that,” she continued, “not even big Frank or Joe, so I don't see why I should let some poncy officer get away with it.”
“Sounds like he had it coming.”
The girl beamed. It was a radiant smile that took Cal by surprise.
“And you, sir. On some sort of secret mission, are you?”
“No,” Cal shook his head. “No, I was given the boot too.”
The girl eyed him, seemingly unsure if he was jesting. “But you’re Lieutenant Harper. You won that Federation bravery award like three times.”