Hazer Jaxx was eighty years old. By Enrilean standards, he was middle aged. Healthy Enrileans had an average lifespan of One hundred and sixty years old, though many chose to take their lives in their early hundreds. Jaxx would never reach that age. His body was that of a much older man. It had been poisoned, withered and destroyed for his beliefs. On a daily basis he wrestled with his duality over whether or not he regretted the actions that had injured his body so badly. A quick and logical daytime thought would give him no regret or remorse. But at night, when he lay awake listening to the hum of the starship’s engines, the demons in his mind made his resolve slowly give way to very undesired doubt.
He stared unblinking at the communiqué that had arrived before him. Nobody had read it – besides the communications officer, of course.
“Gods,” Jaxx whispered, his stiff lips unmoving, “Commander Ziin. The Guu destroyed. By the name of the Gods this is an outrage!”
The rage inside him dared the communications officer to mention the puny Relathon city, but no such mention was made. The bridge was silent. After all, Jaxx hadn’t said anything loud enough for anyone to hear. When he did speak to the crew, his words were loud and cold.
“The Hard Edge has been destroyed in orbit over the Relathon city of Jann Linn,” He loathed the new name for the city and he said it like it hurt his tongue to say it, “The Relathon city was also completely destroyed. There were no survivors of the Hard Edge known at this time.”
The young weapons officer was the only one who spoke.
“Was it an attack, sir?” the tone was one of incredulity, “What… happened?”
Jaxx did not answer. He gave the navigator the orders he needed. Then, after some deliberation, he turned to the weapons officer.
“It’s not known at this time what has happened. But our orders are to return to the Relathon home world. That is all you need to know.”
“Of course, sir.”
“Nevertheless, I expect all weapons systems to be ready, as ever,” Jaxx considered, “I want a full report on readiness from all senior officers and I want it within the next 5 minutes.”
Judd Finn touched Jaxx’s arm. Finn was Jaxx’s second in command. An older, more cautious man, Finn was not sure whether or not Jaxx respected him or not. In truth Jaxx was not sure either.
“Sir, we must move with caution. This has most likely been a terrible accident. Nothing more.”
“We shall see,” Jaxx hissed softly, “I don’t trust the Relathon,” He walked away towards the conference room. He said the next words so nobody could hear. “We should have destroyed them all decades ago.”
Jaxx stopped walking. He turned round and faced Finn.
“Join me in my conference room.”
The round ball of the Nimmjar’s nose was now turned at right angles from its original course. The starboard thrusters stopped and the port thrusters fired to steady the ship. The nearest wormhole was sixteen hours away – or ten hours away at emergency speed. The main engines blasted suddenly and silently in the endless void of space. The ship was on its way.
“The Hard Edge. I served with her captain, Ziin.”
“I know, sir, I’m sorry.”
“Yes,” Jaxx said, “A good captain. A friend – once.”
“Our orders, sir?” Finn said quietly, “We’re heading home? To investigate the accident.”
Jaxx’s facial features were grotesque. It was difficult to tell when he was smiling, laughing, enraged or furious. His eyes blinked. The cruel stiff lipped mouth was open and disgustingly moist. His eyes were cold and hard and small. One was blind and it stared madly through Finn. The second eye looked into Finn’s eyes with a piercing distrust.
“Accident, accident. Twice you said that. Yet the message from the Empire says nothing of an accident,” He raised his voice to a shout, “You must not suppose this is an accident! On my ship! On my bridge! In front of my bridge staff! By the Gods! We have no such news – no such news! For all we know the Relathons sabotaged the Hard Edge. For all we know they destroyed their own damned city!”
He’d taken it too far already. He stopped talking. He hadn’t looked or glanced or even turned his head towards his ceremonial crystal dagger. But it was there on the wall and its bone handle almost seemed to beckon itself towards his gnarled, paralysed hand.
Finn said nothing. He wasn’t going to say anything. But Jaxx did not allow him the sanctuary of silence and Jaxx waited for him to talk. Finn realised that whatever he said it would be wrong.
“We’ll be proceeding to second planet to recover the scientist,” Jaxx said, “That’s our mission. So take us there as quickly as we can get there, but don’t blow the engines up. Understand?”
He held Jaxx’s gaze. The menace was very obvious, very intense. Finn had pitied this horror of a man when he’d met him a mere six days ago, but not for long. Now his feelings were a distracting rollercoaster of fear, anger and disgust.
“I understand perfectly,” Finn said.
“Good, now get out of my conference room. And when we finish this mission I want you to think about a transfer. The last thing I want on my ship is some Relathon sympathising weak minded fool. They only live because we choose it. It’s our will.”
Finn nodded quietly. He left the room. The automatic sliding door clicked shut and then hissed gently as it hermetically locked – airtight.
Jaxx picked the dagger from its mount. He weighed it in his good hand.
“In a perfect world I’d run this sharp crystal blade around the neck of wise old Jann Linn,” He closed his eyes and shook his head almost imperceptibly, “Gods forgive us for not wiping out every last one of those ungrateful yellow eyed abominations.”
2195AD - Spirit of the Future Wreckage.
Sloane was getting cold. According to Pam, three hours had passed since the accident. In the past ten minutes he’d started to get cold. Pam warned him that the temperature was dropping. Sloane knew this meant that the emergency power was failing.
Three hours was a lot of time to be alone in a small coffin in space. It was a lot of time to get scared. Sloane tried to remain calm, but he couldn’t help let some of the fear creep in. He concentrated on his son, Paul. When death came, they’d meet up again.
He had no idea where he was. No idea what was beyond the door of his room. No idea about anything. There had been an accident for certain, but everything else he could only guess at.
There had been no sign of rescue. No communications besides that first and brief contact with Zoobell. She had spoken of other survivors who’d drifted away. So the ship was in pieces, and he was in one of the pieces.
Sloane wondered how long it would take the air supply to run out. At least the door was still intact – even if it bulged in the centre. There was a vacuum beyond the door, he was sure. The door was cold to the touch. Not freezing, but cold. He didn’t know exactly how the emergency atmospheric controls worked; how long would they last? How soon could help arrive? Was it even on its way?
“A new signal just moved into range,” Pamela announced, “Would you like some more information about it?”
“What?” Sloane said, “Pamela, what did you say?”
Sloane looked at Pamela’s display. He could see for himself that there was a new signal, but it was something he could barely believe. He smiled and rubbed the little device to clear the condensation from the screen. There was a dot on the screen and a bunch of information.
“Considering the circumstances,” Pamela said, “I thought it best to monitor the emergency frequencies. That’s one of my original features. However, I haven’t received anything on the emergency frequencies until now.”
“Clever girl,” Sloane muttered. He tapped her screen gently but quickly, bringing up more information, “It’s a ship?”
“I think so,” Pam said, “It’s not broadcasting on the emergency frequencies, but its radiating the normal energy that I’d associate with a ship.”
“Can you transm
it a message to it?” he considered, “Are you able to do that?”
“I think so,” the device stated, “It’s not in my original design, but I can make some changes to my communications setup to make it possible. Of course, there are regulations that prohibit me transmitting on restricted frequencies,” there was a very brief pause, “But considering that this is an emergency, I’ll just go ahead and circumvent those.”
Sloane licked his lips.
“I’m transmitting a message to the ship now,” Pamela announced, “I hope they reply.”
“Me too,” Sloane whispered. It was getting colder. The air felt different too. He wondered if the life support was failing. He wondered if he should ask Pamela if she could analyse the air to give him an answer, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.
“I think Paul would have liked Zoobell,” Pamela said. “She seemed a sensitive person. If you’re going to find a new wife, I think you should consider someone like Zoobell.”
“Thanks,” Sloane grunted, “But I’m fine for wives right now.”
“Perhaps the rescue ship has already picked her up,” Pam said helpfully, “When you are rescued you can both have a Cappuccino together.”
Sloane held the little personal assistant a foot from his face. He stared at it for a long time. Then he placed it carefully back into the inside pocket of his black leather coat.
TEN
2195AD - SS Glasgow.
The SS Glasgow’s sensors were a little bit more finely tuned than the Spirit of the Future, her crew a lot sharper. When the first wreckage within the wormhole was detected, the Glasgow was far enough away from it that there was no danger. The ship’s Captain, a handsome Israeli named Vincent Apple, awoke instantly. He was upright and alert within a few seconds. He washed his face and ran handfuls of water through his long greasy dark hair.
“Hi there,” he looked into the mirror, seeing Vazquez there at his shoulder. Her dark eyes looked sad – they always did – and one was very slightly higher than the other. It made her all the more beautiful to him. Her lips, slightly parted, always looked so inviting.
“Get your game face on,” Apple said softly. He turned round and kissed her face square on the lips, almost startling her, “Damn it Vazquez you’re just too damned distracting. We haven’t got time for your kind of tussled hair, sleepy-faced, sexy gorgeousness right now.”
“Sure, man,” Vasquez smirked, hitting him with her damnably beautiful lopsided grin.
They made their way to the bridge together. There was no need for them to leave a few seconds or minutes apart. Their relationship was common knowledge on the ship. Neither of them cared. They were oblivious to everything besides their own respective roles aboard the ship. Their professionalism was one of the things that kept them close – almost as much as their obvious and occasionally physical attraction.
His hair was wet. It kept getting into his eyes. He rubbed his hand through it again and then squeezed the back of his own neck. Vazquez took her station, relieving the younger man sitting there.
“Wormhole corruption,” Vazquez reported mechanically, “Magnitude four. Manageable. Large chunks of debris ahead. Definitely elements from the Spirit of the Future.”
“Easy as she goes,” Apple said, “Increase power to the forward deflectors I don’t want any trash getting through.”
“Already done, sir,” She said without looking at him, “Forward deflector on full power.”
The forward view screen was larger than the Glasgow’s class normally had fitted. It was twice as large, replaced a year earlier by Apple and Vazquez whilst the rest of the crew had enjoyed a two week break. The screen showed a swirling blue energy vortex that was the inside of the wormhole. Small and large chunks of debris could be seen. They moved randomly in lazy rotations that matched the wormhole’s spiralling motion. All except the shuttle.
The shuttle was clearly not just another lump of lifeless debris. It had a steady course.
“And just what do we do with this poor bastard?” Apple’s gravelly voice was quiet. “And just how does a Rabbit shuttle get into an wormhole?”
“Nothing we can do for him right now. Maybe Spirit got into trouble inside the gate?”
Vazquez, who wasn’t the engineer’s biggest supporter, waited only a few seconds before giving her retort.
“Jackson, we already know that Spirit hit something outside the wormhole. Right on the edge as it came into normal space. I’d guess that we’re looking at debris that got blown right back into the wormhole after the impact.”
Jackson, just out of his teens, was the son of one of Apple’s friends. He was immature and played video games during times when he should have been checking traffic updates, but he was a good kid. Apple constantly reminded Vazquez of this. But she still didn’t like him.
“He’s obsessed with my boobs,” She’d told Apple. The Captain had laughed and replied “So am I.”
If she hadn’t allowed the very tiny lopsided smile to illuminate her face the argument might have went on. But once his eyes twinkled she knew that the discussion was ruined.
“I didn’t know that stuff could just get into an wormhole,” Jackson said, “I thought you had to open them up using a magnetic key or something.”
“Something like that,” Vazquez admitted, “But a little more elegant. It’s possible that the accident happened as the ship was coming out of the gate. The ship would be going at near light speed. Impacting anything would be catastrophic going that fast.”
“That’s right,” Apple interjected, “And my guess is that debris was blasted back into the wormhole. Maybe this Rabbit shuttle too. Maybe,” He added thoughtfully.
“Definitely,” Jackson’s tone was cocky, “Unless the shuttle exited from a large piece of wreckage already in the wormhole.”
“That’s the most sense you’ve made all day, Perv-kid,” Vazquez said, “The chances are that some of the ship stayed intact inside the wormhole. The shuttle wouldn’t have survived being blown back inside – or at least the pilot wouldn’t. And those Rabbit shuttles don’t fly straight by themselves.”
“What I don’t know is how the Hell they’re going to get out. The shuttles don’t have the means of finding or opening the wormhole exit. We’ve got to do something.”
Apple’s white teeth showed in the grin he always made when wrestling with a logical problem. It was a habit that had got him into trouble in his younger years. Vazquez had slapped him a few times before she’d realised that his grin did not mean that he thought something was amusing.
“We can’t help them,” He said after a long time, “The Drake will have the equipment needed to extract objects from the wormhole… safely. It’s completely out of our scope. We’re a sightseeing boat, not a rescue ship.”
He didn’t like to concede defeat to reality. He didn’t like beating around the bush either. Glasgow couldn’t do anything for the shuttle and whoever was on board. Not without risking tearing the ship apart.
“Yeah I think they have remote gate keys that can attach to a damaged ship,” Vazquez supported him automatically, “We don’t carry anything like that.”
“You know… I don’t know if that’s so true.”
She turned slowly, menacingly towards the young man. He narrow dark eyes were low and they rose slowly from his brass belt buckle past his dark grey cotton shirt with the top two buttons tactfully undone. Finally, she looked him in the eye and said:
“What?”
He licked his lips nervously and looked to the Captain for support. Apple didn’t look his way. He was busy looking at one of the consoles.
“One of the passengers is carrying that kind of equipment,” King Frank was the one who spoke. He didn’t look up from his console. He just spoke softly. “He’s an amateur… I don’t know what they call themselves. But he’s got lots of equipment – including some remote gate keys.”
Vazquez looked from the King to the young hand. She found herself thinking more about the closene
ss that seemed to have formed between Jackson and the older pilot. She drew a deep breath and cleared her thoughts as she exhaled slowly.
“Alright. One of the tourists is a scientist. Is he serious? Does he know what he’s doing? I mean, does he know what he’s doing?” she said coldly, “Vinn, Vinn! Are you listening to this?”
“Yes. The only way to find out is to talk to the guy, I guess. Can we get him here?” he extended a long finger waveringly in Jackson’s direction, “Do me a favour and go get him.”
“He’s a bit weird,” Jackson said, unmoving.
Viin’s dark brown eyes narrowed slightly. “Move it, lazy bugger. he turned to the King as Jackson ran out of the control room. “What’s weird about him anyway?”
“I personally don’t find anything unusual about him,” the King said, “The kid’s just a bit confused by him, that’s all. He hasn’t met anyone that he thinks is smarter than himself before.”
“I told you he didn’t know he was an asshole,” Vazquez said quietly. Vinn gave her a dark look, but their eyes both sparkled when they met and she was sure he smiled slightly.
Jonas Jackson made his way to the communal centre, even though he was sure he wouldn’t find the professor there. He was right. The other passengers had noticed the debris and the shuttle. They were full of questions. He gave as many answers as he could in the twenty seconds or so that it took him to extract himself from the scene.
“There’s been an accident.”
“We’re trying to help. I don’t know what we’re going to do.”
“A rescue ship is on its way.”
“I’ll tell you more when I know more.”
There were angry voices calling after him as he ran off. He’d ran away from angry voices before, but he still felt that old shiver down his spine. He could almost hear his father shouting behind him.
He found Professor Barrett where he’d expected to find him – in his room. He knocked the door but there was no answer. On the third and more insistent knock, the door opened very slightly.
Beyond the Starport Adventure (Bullet Book 1) Page 19