Space Team: The Search for Splurt

by Barry J. Hutchison

  “This is going to be tight!” Loren grimaced. She instinctively ducked as the ship scraped by beneath the collapsing roof, then yanked back on the stick as they screamed out into the open air. The ship banked upwards at a skeleton-shaking right angle, just as the ground beneath the AX11 opened like a set of hungry jaws, swallowing the entire city-sized wreck and dragging it below the surface.

  “Oh man, check out the vortex,” groaned Mech.

  On screen, they could make out the transport shuttle and fighter ships outlined against the shimmering colors of the space hole. The hole itself, though, was shaking and rolling like a bad TV signal, its once-smooth edges now jagged and angry-looking.

  “Hit the gas!” Cal instructed. “The planet’s about to fall apart, and if that thing really is connected, it’s not going to stay open for long.”

  Loren let out a breath she’d been keeping inside. “OK. Hold on,” she urged, pushing forward on the thrusters.

  The sky blurred. Everyone screamed. Loren inched back on the lever. Everyone screamed some more.

  The vortex filled the viewscreen now, with the transporter and fighter ships all just a few miles ahead.

  “Holy shizz, this thing’s fast,” Loren gulped.

  “You can say that again,” said Cal, once he’d successfully dislodged his tongue from the back of his throat.

  “I feel I should draw your attention to the pursuit ships which are currently approaching,” announced K-Seven-Zero Dash Nine-Three-Three-Zero-Seven Dash Zeta.

  “Pursuit ships?” said Cal. “How can there be…?”

  A torrent of laser fire tore past them. On screen, one of the fighter craft exploded in a tornado of fire and debris.

  “They appear to be automated,” the AI informed them. “They launched from the AX11 just as we did.”

  “Looks like Vajazzle had one last trick up her sleeve,” said Cal. “Let’s blow those things out of the sky.”

  “An excellent plan, sir, save for one minor detail,” said K-Seven-Zero Dash Nine-Three-Three-Zero-Seven Dash Zeta. “Weapon systems are currently non-operational.”

  Another stream of blaster fire howled past, narrowly missing the transport ship.

  “Incoming transmission,” K-Seven-Zero Dash Nine-Three-Three-Zero-Seven Dash Zeta announced. “Should I display it, or tell them you’re not in?”

  “On screen,” said Cal.

  “Very good, sir.”

  A rectangular overlay appeared in the top right corner of the viewscreen, showing a frantic-looking Dronzen. “Where the fonk did that pair of bamstons come from?” he yelped. “We just lost… uh… you know. Whatsisname. With the beard.”

  More laser fire scorched past the transport ship, jerking it to one side. “We need to stop those fighters, quick flaming smart!” Dronzen said.

  “We can’t,” Cal explained. “We’ve got no weapons. Just keep going. Get through the vortex before it closes.”

  Dronzen didn’t reply. Not for a long time. When he did, it wasn’t really anything to write home about.

  “Right then,” he said, then he leaned heavily on his stick. In the main view, one of the saucer-shaped Zertex fighters banked sharply, wobbled erratically, then rocketed past right above the top of the screen, making everyone but Mizette duck.

  “What are you doing?” Miz demanded. “Dronzen? Galto? Do you want to get in the hole or not? Because if you do, you had better get yourself through that vortex first.”

  “No can do, gorgeous,” said Dronzen. “If I don’t do this, any one of these ships could get blown to bits. Including yours. And I’m not about to let that happen.” He gritted this teeth. “Tell my wife and kids I’m sorry.”

  “No, but… wait, wife and kids?” said Miz.

  On screen, Dronzen grinned. “Nah, just kidding,” he said. He fixed the screen with a look of such sincerity, Cal had to bite his lip to stop himself bursting into tears. “Take care, Miz,” Dronzen said. “I love you.”

  Miz blinked. “Uh… what?”

  “I think he said he loves you,” Cal said.

  “Yeah. Like, uh, sure, whatever,” said Miz. She shifted in her seat. “But, I mean, I’ve only known you for a day.”

  “What?” said Dronzen. His face reddened. “Eh, yeah. Yeah. What? That’s… I’m not…”

  “I mean, I like you, and everything,” said Miz. “But, no offence, that’s a bit stalker-ish. I think maybe we should, you know, like take a break?”

  “What?” said Dronzen again. “Oh. I mean, yeah. Right you are.” He puffed out his cheeks. “Well, uh, OK. I guess I’ll see you, then. Take care of yourself.”

  Mizette nodded. “Will do.”

  “Right,” said Dronzen. He hesitated, then leaned forwards and tapped a button next to his camera. His image remained fixed in place. He smiled awkwardly and tried again. “Sorry, I don’t know how to switch this--”

  His picture snapped off. Miz relaxed into her chair. “Wow. What a weirdo,” she said.

  “The total weirdo has successfully engaged the pursuit craft,” announced K-Seven-Zero Dash Nine-Three-Three-Zero-Seven Dash Zeta. “Transporter and fighters are passing vortex event horizon now. I suggest we increase thrust before…”

  Behind them, the planet exploded.

  “…that happens,” concluded the AI.

  As the shockwave raced up behind them, the vortex launched into its final thrashing death throes.

  “Loren, punch it!” Cal cried, gripping his arm rests and holding his tongue between his teeth.

  Space stretched as Loren pushed forward on the throttle. A pair of invisible thumbs pressed against Cal’s eyeballs, swimming them with swirls of color.

  And then, in a flash of blinding white, the sky was filled with dozens of Zertex ships. “We made it!” Cal cheered. “Holy shizz, we made it!”

  He looked out across the fleet of ships. “Wait, these are the guys who chased us in here,” Cal realized. “Have they just been hanging around here this whole time? Don’t they have homes to go to?”

  “Time difference,” said Mech. “Vajazzle was in there for years but to us it was just a few days. Based on that, we probably just went through the vortex a few minutes ago.”

  “So Sinclair’s still there?” said Cal. A grin lit up his face. “And he won’t know this is us! We can sneak away without him noticing.”

  “Oh,” said K-Seven-Zero Dash Nine-Three-Three-Zero-Seven Dash Zeta.

  Cal looked up. “Oh?”

  “No, it’s nothing, sir,” said the AI. Cal continued looking up. “It’s just, I may have transmitted a full status update to all Zertex vessels within range, including details of the ship’s current occupants,” he said. “Sorry. Force of habit.”

  Another overlay appeared on the screen. This one was filled by President Sinclair’s face. “Carver!” he roared. “How? How are you on that ship? That’s my ship!”

  Cal pointed to the floor. “What, this ship? This ship right here?” He turned, and was delighted to find he had a spinny chair. “Any of you guys know this was the space president’s ship?”

  “Nope,” said Mech.

  “Not me,” said Loren.

  Miz shrugged. “Whatever.”

  Cal turned back to the viewscreen. “Sorry, we didn’t know.” He frowned. “Wait, hold on,” he said, then he lifted Splurt to his ear and pretended to listen. “Yeah… Uh-huh. You don’t say?”

  “The entity!” Sinclair growled. “You have the entity. They have the entity!”

  “Turns out Splurt knew it was yours,” Cal said, setting the blob back down on his lap. Splurt wriggled around, like a cat getting comfy. “So, you know, I can only apologize.”

  “Surrender,” Sinclair seethed. “Or be destroyed.”

  “Yeah. I don’t think so,” said Cal. “You see, the, uh, Currently Untitled is our ship now. Hope you don’t mind.” He leaned back in his chair. “Loren, warp us out of here!”

  Loren stared blankly down at the controls. “Um… Warp. Warp, warp, warp, w
here is the…?”

  “Perhaps this one, sir?” suggested K-Seven-Zero Dash Nine-Three-Three-Zero-Seven Dash Zeta. A single green circle appeared in the air in front of Cal.

  Cal pushed it.

  Nothing happened.

  “What does it do?” he asked.

  “I’m afraid I don’t recall, sir.”

  “What? What do you mean ‘you don’t recall’?”

  “Precisely that, sir,” said the AI. “I don’t recall. Presumably I was, once upon-a-time, aware of the button’s purpose, but it appears to have slipped my mind. However, I do have a nagging suspicion you probably shouldn’t have pressed it, sir.”

  “You told me to!” Cal spluttered.

  “Did I sir?” K-Seven-Zero Dash Nine-Three-Three-Zero-Seven Dash Zeta reflected on this for a moment. “Oh.”

  “Is that thing, like, all there?” asked Miz, shooting the ceiling a glance.

  “It’s funny you should ask, ma’am,” said the AI. “My experimental nature, coupled with the damage I sustained during the AX11’s crash – as well as several years of forced solitude – means I have possibly gone quite mad.

  “And by ‘possibly,’” he continued, “I in fact mean ‘probably.’”

  “Great,” said Cal.

  “And by ‘probably,’ I mean ‘quite categorically.’”

  “Excellent,” said Cal. “Even better.”

  “Now, if I may be so bold, I suggest you all hold on.”

  “Why?” asked Cal, gripping his arm rests. Through the viewscreen ahead of them, they all watched as space ballooned outwards and inwards at the same time, bulging and contracting all at once. “Oh, that’s why,” Cal said. “What happens now?”

  “An excellent question, sir,” said K-Seven-Zero Dash Nine-Three-Three-Zero-Seven Dash Zeta. “In fact, it’s so good, I was about to ask you the same one.”

  Cal gritted his teeth and glanced around at the others as the inny-outty space blister engulfed the ship.

  Maybe he didn’t know what was going to happen next. Maybe no-one did.

  But, man, he thought, it was going to be fun finding out!

  You know, assuming they didn’t die, or anything.

  A Word from the Author

  Thank you.

  OK, that’s technically two words.

  So, I guess I might as well carry on now. If you have made it to the end of this book and are now reading this, too, then I want you to know that I’m immensely grateful. I first came up with the idea for a small-time crook being abducted by aliens and plunged into adventure at 3am, after my daughter had woken up after a nightmare.

  Perched on the end of her bed while I waited for her to fall asleep, I looked out at the stars through a gap in her curtains. It was a clear night, and through that tiny gap I could see forever.

  I wondered what it would be like to be up there, zooming around, getting into trouble, and then my half-asleep brain started to fill in the blanks. By the time my daughter was finally asleep, the idea for Space Team had been born.

  Well, technically, that’s not true. Space Bastards had been born – a darker, more violent crew with far less noble intentions than Cal and his crewmates. Over the next few days, the team evolved into the version you’ve just been reading about – but that’s not to say their alternate universe counterparts won’t show up some day.

  This is the final book in the first Space Team trilogy, but by no means the last Space Team book. The adventure of Cal Carver and his crew aboard their new ship, the Currently Untitled, will continue in a second trilogy, publishing in April 2017.

  This year, I’ll also be contributing all-new Space Team universe stories to a couple of anthology collections. The first will focus on an entirely new character, while the second follows Narp’s mom from this book as she attempts to rescue her troublesome son from some gangsters. There may or may not be Spit Nibbles, I haven’t decided yet.

  The series wouldn’t be possible without readers like you, because I’d have packed it all in after the first book if no-one had bothered to buy it. Luckily, people did buy it, and Space Team will be continuing for the foreseeable future, at least.

  If you’d like to keep up to date with Space Team developments, you can join the mailing list, climb aboard the Facebook page or follow me on Twitter.

  If you really want to make my day, you could leave me a review for this book (and any others you’ve read) on Amazon. Go on. I’ll be your best friend.

  Thanks again for getting this far. Coincidentally, I’m writing this at 3am, after my daughter woke from another bad dream. The circle is now complete.

  Best wishes,

  Barry J. Hutchison

  17th January, 2017