Dead Men Don't Disco

by Michael Campling

  ***

  A casual observer would have seen the escape pod’s outer door swing open, and may have wondered why no one emerged. A split second later, the observer might have been alarmed at the brief but dazzling glow that lit the doorway, the burst of light closely followed by a small object hurtling out into space. The object, the observer might note, appeared to be on fire, and it left a twisting trail of smoke in its wake as it vanished into the infinite darkness.

  But there were no observers floating in space that day: a fact that gave Rawlgeeb some measure of relief as he filed into the airlock. In space, he thought, no one can hear you humming dust-storm jazz to calm your nerves.

  “Sorry to keep you waiting,” Brent said. “Normal jumping-out-of-the-airlock service has now resumed. We hope that you enjoy your brief visit to the void.” He paused. “And Rawlgeeb, could you stop humming? I can hear it on my intercom, and it’s making me crazy.”

  “Sorry.” Rawlgeeb shuffled back to allow Levinson to squeeze into the compartment. “Are you all right?”

  Levinson finished sealing the inner door then gave them a thumbs up, his movement hampered by the cobbled together EVA suit. It was, at best, a motley approximation of a spacesuit: mismatched sleeves and gloves clung tightly to his arms, while the gaps between his boots and the legs of his suit were wrapped in offcuts from other suits. And everywhere, there was duct tape. It crisscrossed his body, encasing him in silvery ribbons as if he’d been gift-wrapped by an overenthusiastic but mentally unbalanced department store elf.

  Brent stifled a smirk and avoided Levinson’s eye. “Okay, we’re all set.” He waved the handset in the air. “Ellen said she’ll pick up the signal automatically. All we have to do is step outside.”

  “Go for it,” Levinson called out. “I can hardly breathe in here.”

  “Is the life support system not working?” Rawlgeeb asked.

  “It’s fine,” Levinson replied. “But even without the jetpacks, there isn’t enough room in here. Let’s go.”

  “You’re the boss,” Brent said, and he grabbed the wheel to open the outer door. It had been a little stiff when he’d kicked the space louse’s egg outside, but now, the wheel spun easily, and with a rush of escaping air, the door swung open. He patted Rawlgeeb on the arm. “You first. When you get out, you’ll need to push off from the pod. Ellen says we have to get clear of the shield. But don’t go wild. Just a gentle push, all right? And don’t worry. This is one small step for a Gloabon.”

  Rawlgeeb peered through the doorway. “Really? It feels like a giant leap.” He took a breath. “Okay, here goes.” He clambered out, disappearing from view.

  “Levinson, you’re up next,” Brent said. “I can’t risk going out until you’re ready. If I was zinged away too soon, you’d be stuck here.”

  “I know.” Levinson stepped up to the open door. “But don’t wait too long, okay? I can feel this suit leaking already.”

  “No worries.” Brent watched Levinson depart and then followed him through the doorway. Outside, Rawlgeeb and Levinson had grabbed hold of each other, and Brent pushed himself off, almost enjoying the feeling of drifting through space without effort. It’s no wonder astronauts are all crazy, he thought. This is the worst great feeling I ever had.

  He collided gently with Rawlgeeb and held tight to the Gloabon’s arm. “Are you good?”

  “Yes, but I’m worried about Levinson. He looks pale.”

  “I’m all right,” Levinson gasped. “Is your handset working? Can you check it?”

  Brent looked down at the screen. It all looked normal, but before he could say anything, a familiar tingling sensation raced along his arms. He closed his eyes tight, and when he opened them again, the lights of the shuttle’s passenger compartment seemed impossibly bright.

  Alongside him, Breamell was already helping Rawlgeeb to remove his helmet, while Levinson was removing his own as quickly as possible. Brent pulled off his helmet and then beamed at Ellen and Maisie before casting his eyes over the cabin’s only other occupant. “Sergeant Carter. Strangely enough, I am one hundred percent genuinely pleased to see you.”

  Carter lifted his chin. “You, er, you did it. You brought the Captain back. That was…a good job, Bolster. Well done.”

  Brent opened his arms wide. “Come on, Carter. Give me a hug. You know you want to. Give in to the urge. It’ll make you feel better. I’ll be gentle.”

  “Aw, forget it,” Carter grumbled. “I tried, but you always have to be an asshole. I’m going to fire up the engines. We need to get back to Earth before the Andel-Kreits start taking potshots at us for the hell of it.” He stormed out of the cabin, slamming the cockpit door behind him.

  Brent sat down heavily on the nearest seat, his limbs suddenly weak. “Man, I am shattered. When we get back home, I’m going to get the biggest steak you ever saw, and I won’t mind that it’s synthetic, I really won’t, so long as the damned thing’s big and juicy. And you’re all invited. My treat.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Rawlgeeb replied. “I wonder if we can find a place where they serve alligator. I’m starving.”

  “Sure,” Brent said. “You can choose the place, especially since you’ll be picking up the check.” Rawlgeeb started to protest, but Brent held up his hand to stop him. “You can take it out of your petty cash fund, can’t you? Call it a business meeting. Write it off one way or another.”

  “I suppose so,” Rawlgeeb said. “Breamell, you’ll come along, won’t you? Our first date went a little…awry. But perhaps you’d be kind enough to give me a second chance?”

  “I don’t know.” Breamell made a show of examining her hands, but when she looked up, her smile was even brighter than the overhead lights. “Yes. And I’ll give you a third chance and a fourth. And after that, unless you manage to get yourself arrested or attacked by an assassin or thrown in the brig, we’ll see where the mood takes us.”

  Rawlgeeb grinned, and Breamell threw her arms around him, holding him in a clinch that lifted his feet from the floor as she kissed him hard on the lips.

  Brent watched them for a moment, then he looked away, smiling at Maisie as she took the seat facing him.

  “Brent, in a way, Carter’s right about you,” she began. “You do insist on acting like an asshole. But after today…I’m starting to wonder if the man beneath the mask isn’t so bad after all.”

  “Oh, this isn’t a mask,” Brent replied. “This is me. Take it or leave it, sweet cheeks.”

  If Maisie was trying hard not to roll her eyes, she didn’t quite succeed. “I’ll come along to the celebratory dinner,” she said, standing up and straightening her skirt. “Let’s leave it that, shall we?”

  Brent shrugged. “Whatever you say.” His eyes followed Maisie as she walked away until he realized that Ellen was staring at him. “Hey, Ellen, thanks for bringing us back so fast. That zinger of yours is something else.”

  “Never mind that.” Ellen stepped closer to him and lowered her voice. “What is it with you and her?” She hooked her thumb to where Maisie was helping Levinson strip the tape that imprisoned him in his ragtag spacesuit.

  “There’s nothing to know,” Brent replied. “We’ve worked together. I’d say we were friends, but I’m afraid the Merriam-Webster people would come after me.” He offered Ellen a wry smile. “She pretends to tolerate me, but that’s all it is—a pretense. Deep down, she hates my guts, but she’s too well-brought-up to admit it. If you’re after a simpler answer, let’s just say that Maisie and me are never going to get along. End of story.”

  Ellen folded her arms. “I see. Right. So, am I invited to this shindig you’re throwing? I could sure use a very large, very full glass of red wine. Or possibly three.”

  “We’ll tell the waiter to keep them coming,” Brent said smoothly. “I don’t touch the stuff myself, but I wouldn’t dream of standing in your way.”

  “Don’t drink, huh?” Ellen looked him in the eye. “Maybe I’ll go easy on the booze myself. I wouldn
’t want to be…out of action.”

  Brent fought to keep his eyebrows on the front of his face. “Well, that’s a very…intriguing thing to say. And also, mildly terrifying.”

  “Suits me,” Ellen said. “I think people should know where they stand in a relationship, don’t you?”

  “Relationship?” Brent croaked. “I…”

  Ellen leaned forward and laid her hand on his arm. “Don’t worry your little head about it, sweetheart. I’m sure we’ll get along just fine, you and I. But if we don’t, would you prefer a bullet in the back or poison in your coffee?”

  “I’ll go for the poisoned coffee. The way Vince makes it, I won’t be able to tell the difference. The first thing I’ll notice is the pearly gates getting slammed in my face.”

  “You want to go to heaven, Brent? I could take you there without breaking a sweat.” She let out a murmur of soft laughter, her face so close now that her warm breath crept over his cheek and tickled his earlobe. “Of course, that last part isn’t entirely true, but what’s a little perspiration between friends?”

  Brent cleared his throat. “Doesn’t it bother you at all that I’m a lot older than you?”

  She smiled. “What I want to know is, does it bother you?” Her gaze traced a fiery path across his face before settling on his eyes and burning deep into his soul, then she straightened her back and walked away before he could answer.

  Okay, Bolster, he said to himself. You’re a tough guy. You’ve been hunted by a murderous alien, threatened by an android thug, lost in outer space, and repeatedly thrown behind bars until you’ve wound up as crazy as a couple of waltzing space lice. Now let’s see you do something really tough–like spending a little time with a woman without pissing her off. He jumped to his feet. Ellen was already on her way to the cockpit, but there was still time. “Hey, Ellen.”

  She stopped in her tracks and turned, her hand on her hip, her raised eyebrow doing all the talking.

  “Before you come out with us, shouldn’t you ask your parents first? I mean, it is a school night. Don’t you have homework or something?”

  Ellen narrowed her eyes to venomous slits, giving Brent a glare that ought to have cut him clean in half, then she stalked away, her head held high.

  Brent brushed his hands together. Job done, he thought as he sat down and closed his eyes. I don’t mind a reasonable amount of trouble, but that young woman…she’s an invitation to dance with the Devil. And in these boots, I don’t dance.

  EPILOGUE

  Andel

  Andelian Space Fleet Headquarters.

  Sitting beside Zeb in the lecture theater, Dex nudged his companion as the house lights dimmed.

  Zeb turned in his seat. “What do you want? I think the vid is about to start.”

  “Yes, but this is a mandatory health and safety lecture. You aren’t supposed to bring crud corn.”

  “Oh.” Zeb looked down at his enormous cardboard carton. “I’ll get rid of it. Do you want some before I put it away? I got the one with extra hog’s butter.”

  Dex hesitated. “All right. Just a little.” He grabbed a large handful of corn and stuffed it into his mouth, chewing furiously. “Put it between the seats,” he mumbled through his mouthful. “I might snack on it every so often.”

  “Shush,” Zeb replied, jamming the carton between them. “It’s starting.”

  The large screen at the front of the room glowed bright, and the titles began to roll:

  Pre-flight Emergency Procedures – Part 1.

  An Introduction to Warning Signs and Announcements.

  Sponsored by The Gloabon Institute of Technology

  Script by Gerald Martellini

  The titles were replaced by a tall Gloabon wearing a white lab coat over a dark blue jumpsuit, both items clearly displaying the letters G, I, T. Next to him, a heavy-duty android stood rigidly upright.

  “Hello,” the Gloabon began in halting Andelian. “My name is Rawlgeeb, and this is my assistant, Culler. Say hello, Culler.”

  Culler raised his hand. “Hello. We’re here to remind you about your safety. Because accidents happen, right? And you wouldn’t want to wind up permanently damaged, would you?” Culler linked his hands and flexed his knuckles, the joints screeching as metal grated against metal. “You’d better listen good, or you could all wind up dead.”

  Rawlgeeb’s smile was tight and strained. “No, they wouldn’t want that, Culler. Dear me, this is a safety film, not a death threat.” He cleared his throat and resumed. “I will be taking you through a standard pre-launch safety drill today, and we’ll be looking at all the new signs and multi-language warnings that are now standard across all known space fleets in the galaxy. But first, a quick note. During this presentation, we’ll play you a number of warning sounds, so that you can familiarize yourselves with them. I’ll always warn of this before we play them, so when you hear the somersaults, please stay in your seats. There is absolutely no reason to enjoy the ship.”

  A ripple of laughter ran through the audience.

  “Did he say somersaults?” Dex asked. “He meant warnings, surely.”

  Zeb nodded. “Yes. And he said enjoy instead of abandon. Huh, they should’ve hired a native Andelian speaker. I’d have done it better myself.”

  Dex settled back into his seat and helped himself to another huge handful of crud corn. “You know, I was pretty angry when they sent us back here for retraining, but things are starting to look up.”

  On the screen, the android was struggling to fit a safety harness to the Gloabon, but from the suppressed yelps of pain, it seemed that he was using a lot more force than was called for.

  “Yes indeed,” Zeb replied. “This is going to be absolutely hilarious.”

  THE END

  Don’t miss the sequel - The Surrana Identity

  Be notified when you join The Awkward Squad:

  Stay up to date and you’ll also get a free starter library

  Thank You for reading Dead Men Don’t Disco

  I hope that you enjoyed it.

  Want more like this? Please consider leaving a review.

  Reviews are a great way of encouraging authors to write more in a series or a genre, so if you’d like more books like this, your review will support the development of new books. Even a short review will help.

  Thank you.

  Liked it? Try this:

  Wall on Amazon (US)

  Wall on Amazon (UK)

  Wall on Amazon (Universal link)

  On this planet, the wall is safety. Go beyond it, and the settlers will die. They are lost, they are alone, but at least they're sure of their survival. Until now.

  Coming Soon

  The Surrana Identity

  A New Brent Bolster Mystery.

  New books are coming out all the time.

  Don’t Miss Out

  The best way to keep up to date with Michael’s new releases is to sign up for his newsletter at: mikeycampling.com/freebooks

  Also by Michael Campling

  One Link to Rule Them All:

  Click here to see the whole lot!

  The Brent Bolster Mysteries

  Dial G for Gravity

  Dead Men Don’t Disco

  The Downlode Trust Series:

  C0NTINUE? – A Downlode Trust Prequel

  CHEATC0DE – The Downlode Trust Book I

  The Trust – The Downlode Trust Book II

  Colony B Series:

  Skeleton Crew – A Colony B Prequel

  Wall – Colony B Book I

  Trail – Colony B Book II

  Control – Colony B Book III

  Rift – Colony B Book IV

  Colony B Box Set Books I-IV

  The Darkeningstone Series:

  Breaking Ground – A Darkeningstone Prequel

  Trespass: The Darkeningstone Book I

  Outcast—The Darkeningstone Book II

  Scaderstone—The Darkeningstone Book III

  Darkeningstone Trilogy Box Set


  The Short Horror Collection

  After Dark – Thoughtful Horror Book I

  Once in a Blood Moon – Thoughtful Horror Book II

  A Dark Assortment – Thoughtful Horror Book III

  Other Fiction

  The God Machine

  Changes

  Destiny’s Hand

  The Expanding Universe 3

  The Expanding Universe 4

  About the Author

  I am a full-time writer working across several genres, but in my largely unplanned life I have been a computer programmer, a website builder, a full-time dad, and a primary school teacher.

  Now, the kids may have flown the nest, but we have our Labrador Lottie to keep us company, and she makes sure I step away from the keyboard at regular intervals. We’re fortunate enough to live on the edge of Dartmoor in Devon, so Lottie has plenty of space to run, sniff, and chase after pheasants with no clear purpose in mind.

  I’m known to friends as Mikey, so if you’ve read this far, go ahead and drop the formality. My books are listed on michaelcampling.com, but my blog (and scintillating newsletter) are run from mikeycampling.com where you can sign up for my readers’ group, which is called The Awkward Squad, and I’ll send you free books and stories, plus a newsletter that’s actually worth reading. Here’s the only link you’ll need:

  mikeycampling.com/freebooks

  Copyright

  © 2018 Michael Campling All rights reserved.

  No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the copyright holder, except as permitted by copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.