Beyond the Starport Adventure (Bullet Book 1)

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Beyond the Starport Adventure (Bullet Book 1) Page 21

by Richard Fairbairn


  There was a long pause. Michelle could almost see Apple's strained expression. She imagined he wouldn't want to know the damage the ship was acquiring. She sure as hell didn't want to hear it.

  “Alright,” Vinn replied eventually, “Just... try not to crash into something bigger than us.”

  “Something bigger than a baseball would probably be enough,” King said matter of factly. Jackson almost laughed. Vazquez squinted her slightly lopsided left eye and scowled at them both. Barrett was very proud of his device, even if Vinn could see that it consisted of several stolen ideas bolted together. Still, the remote gate keys were a useful idea and without them anyone who might possibly be alive on board the shuttle probably would not be for much longer.

  “You see, this is the clever part,” Barret explained as if to himself, “The remote gates have a semi-autonomous logic centre that can seek out and attach to a damaged craft all on its own.”

  Vinn turned the Frisbee shaped heavy disk over in his hands. He fingered one of the four small bulbous protrusions that ran round the edge of the disk.

  “Be careful with those,” the professor said, “They're the propulsion and guidance systems all rolled into one.”

  “They're new to me,” the captain observed. It was the first thing about the remote gate keys that was, “I haven't seen these before.”

  “Well, you wouldn't have, sir,” Barrett said chirpily, “Not unless you'd done some deep sea exploring. These used to be part of deep sea exploration robot.”

  “Interesting,” Apple said. Barret, encouraged, started to speak again but Vinn interrupted, “Okay, how many of these should we load into the tube? All of them?”

  “One at a time,” the professor said, “Otherwise we risk entanglement. I mean, we're likely to get that anyway but adding more than one tether to the situation.”

  The ship lurched to port. Barrett fell into the captain's strong arms. He caught the younger man easily and steadied him.

  “Sorry,” it was King, “That was a panel from the shuttle. I didn't see it coming until it was too late. We've lost our standard navigation system. I can't tell how badly damaged it is or if it's even still part of the ship. Sir, we really have to get on with this or get the Hell out of this.”

  “I'm with you,” Vinn barked back at the intercom, “Okay, professor. One at a time, It’s your show now let’s get on with it,” he pushed Barrett back onto his feet.

  It took five minutes to load the torpedo tube and a further eight minutes for Captain Vinn Apple to disable the jettison mechanism. Barrett had explained that the launcher would most likely damage the delicate components within the gate key. As he worked on the tube Vinn learned that the standard navigation controls had been damaged beyond repair – most likely. This meant that high speed navigation outside of the wormhole was practically impossible and extremely risky at best. Vinn tried to imagine how much it would cost to repair the array. The thought made his head start to ache so he shook it to clear it and shelved the thought. He'd speak to Vazquez later and together they'd work something out. Maybe there would be a reward for rescuing the shuttle crew – if there was anyone left alive on board.

  2195AD - Spirit of the Future Wreckage.

  Pam was lying on the floor – frozen solid by his sweat and tears. Her screen was illuminated, but her face was sad. Her voice was silent. He wanted to pick her up – to speak to her – but he couldn't move. He was too cold.

  He'd been cold before. Many, many years ago. But it hadn't been like this. He'd been uncomfortably cold. At the time he'd been worried for his safety but now, twenty five years later, he realised the agony of real coldness. There was no end to it. The pain just kept getting worse. He thought that he'd lose sensation at his extremities, but he hadn't. He could feel himself freezing to death and it was agonising. And he was terrified.

  It was like every nerve in his body ached beyond any ache he'd ever experienced. Everything pained. Everything agonised.

  Jack Sloane was frozen to the blankets he'd wrapped around himself. He did not realise that the gravity had returned until the blanket shattered around him and he was rolling along the floor as more debris tumbled on top of him.

  He could still think. That was more of a curse than a blessing. Thoughts. Thinking. He thought that the area he was trapped in – a room, a corridor, a section of the ship god knows how big – was tumbling over. It took him a minute to realise that the gravity had returned. He saw Pam lying just beside his estranged left arm. He reached for her and for a few seconds his fingers didn't seem to want to move, but they did and then he was prising Pam off the floor.

  “Wh... wh..,” he tried to speak, but his voice had gone. The clever little electronic box registered his attempt with an apologetic squeak. A frowning, apologetic face appeared.

  “I'm sorry,” she said, “I can't understand what you're saying.”

  He tried to lick his lips, but his tongue was a thick piece of rubber stuck in his mouth and only vaguely under his instruction.

  “I didn't want to wake you,” Pam said, “But I've sensed some interesting electronic and radio signals. Would you like me to tell you about them?”

  He didn't imagine being able to reply, but didn't try and managed to use his left thumb to press the screen.

  “Eight different radio signals. Very high frequencies and out of my reception range, sorry. I can be upgraded to receive them if you like. I'm not sure of the upgrade Alexanders right now as I don't seem to be able to contact the upgrade store.”

  “sss.... alright..,” he managed to say, “Wh...wh...”

  “I'm sorry, you'll have to speak a little more clearly,” Pam said coldly.

  He couldn't speak much at all, but somehow he eventually managed to ask Pam to elaborate on the signals she was picking up. Just as she was about to, the room shook and there was a loud dull clang. He blinked hard and his eyes stuck shut. He had to rub them to open them. Pam was talking and he listened.

  “There are ten signals. Some are consistent with the running signals produced by the Spirit of the Future. It’s possible that they're the gate key frequencies, but without my upgrade I can't tell you anymore. Sorry. The other six signals are data transmissions of a type I'm not familiar with. But they seem to be using a consistent modulation. I'm getting something that might be speech, but without the upgrade I can't decode it – sorry.”

  Sloane wondered whether this meant she couldn't decode the signals or wouldn't due to the lack of upgrade. Then he realised that both meant the same thing to Pam and, insanely, he felt sorry for her.

  The door of his room was no longer where it had been. He wanted to wipe his eyes but his arms wouldn't move. There was a cloud of smoke or dust. The stinging on his face was a large piece of the door that smacked against his body after bouncing off the bedframe.

  Jaxx stepped through the doorway. His quartermaster was held tightly in his good hand. His hand was sweaty and cold. His finger was on the trigger of his platinum plated sidearm. He was ready to shoot something – anything – that lay beyond the strange doorway,

  “Name of the Gods,” he growled, “What is this?”

  “Crew quarters,” Finn speculated. His voice was full of excitement, anticipation. It sickened Jaxx.

  They stepped into the room together. Jaxx was ready to shoot. Finn's gun was a token gesture.

  Jaxx hadn't seen anything like the scene before him. The room was full of debris, but most of it made no sense to him. Bizarrely patterned curtains draped over a fake and flickering telescreen of sorts. There was a bed that did not look unlike Jaxx's own bed. There were sheets strewn around the room and their colours matched the drapes. A lamp fitting was placed ineffectually in the centre of the room. It seemed to be made of something that looked like glass but was more like some kind of plastic. Everything in the room looked like a cheap attempt at something grand.

  Jaxx's gun made a clicking sound. Finn glanced across to him. Jaxx's glass eye stared coldly back. His good eye cha
llenged the younger man. The safety catch was off. Finn had already seen the shape in the corner of the room. Jaxx's hate became almost orgasmic to think that his second in command hadn't immediately pointed out the alien's presence.

  Sloane saw the three figures moving slowly through the room towards him. He'd been unable to make out the words they were exchanging and his own voice was frozen somewhere deep and down in the back of his throat. But he sensed that something was out of place. His tremendous relief at his imminent rescue and the terrible pain of coldness dulled is senses. Suddenly he saw something that looked like a handgun being aimed at him. He tried to speak, but he couldn't. There was a crack. He felt the bullet pass close by to his ear. Now terror had entered the scene, pushing pain and cold aside like they hadn't ever been there.

  Finn was shocked. He was reaching for the shaking hand even as Jaxx fired the second shot. The 20mm bullet from the four barrelled revolver blasted out of the hand cannon. It whizzed past Sloane's head on the opposite side.

  “Sir! What are you doing?” Finn had his hand around Jaxx's wrist as the third bullet fired. It hit Sloane's head above his left eye, glancing off the ice that had once been sweat. The bullet exploded spectacularly, fragments of it tearing half of his eyebrow off and ripping a half inch gouge like a valley in his temple. Sloane's head snapped backwards and the back of his skull cracked against the wall of his room, making a large hole in the plastic panel.

  The fourth bullet was a reflex. Jaxx squeezed it off an instant after the third and it missed his target by more than a metre. Finn was wrestling with Jaxx by now and the two men's faces were less than five inches apart. Jaxx was snarling with rage and Finn, suddenly alarmed at the ferocity of his captain's reaction, felt a sudden coldness climb from his neck to the top of his head.

  “Sir… I…” he didn’t know what to say. He'd made a terrible mistake. His mind raced and he struggled to think of something to say. Jaxx was still beside him. The heavy revolver in his right hand was steady and aimed, still, towards the bleeding body in the room. Then the arm was lowering and the silver Quartermaster was being holstered.

  “Commander Finn,” Jaxx said quietly, “What makes you feel that you have the right to put your hand upon mine? To affect my aim? To spare this abhorrence?” he nodded slightly towards the motionless body in the room, “What makes you dare to presume you have the authority or the… righteousness… to make such a bold, authoritative assertion of your opinions over mine?”

  Finn did not know how to answer. He was afraid. He could feel the security men behind them. Their silence was overpowering. Their breathing was the only sound in the horrific studio he found himself in.

  “I don't believe in cruel Gods. That's what you said. That's what you believe. Well, my young colleague, I don't believe in cruel Gods either. I believe that life itself is cruel. Life is hard. Survival of the fittest is what I believe in. Those the Crystal Warriors would choose and those whom they would not. We were the chosen. And whatever that is…” he gestured towards the body of Jack Sloane, “Whatever that abomination is… it is not us. It wasn't chosen. Gods, what am I wasting my time talking to you for. I have better things to do.”

  Jaxx moved with a speed that defied his age and disabilities. The ceremonial crystal dagger was somehow in his right hand and then it was buried deep in Finn's chest. In a sudden burst of anger, Jaxx had punched the sharp edge of the crystal weapon through the hard breast plate. The weapon embedded right to the hilt, seven inches of razor sharp fury severing the pulmonary artery and popping Finn’s rapidly beating heart like a balloon. Finn felt nothing but surprise. There was no immediate pain, or even any considerable fear. He turned his head to his Captain and opened his mouth in slow motion, his heart fibrillating madly as his chest cavity filled with blood. Jaxx seemed to have suddenly gained the strength of a madman. He withdrew the dagger in a powerful motion and jerked it into Finn’s chest a second, third and fourth time. Tiny specks of frothy blood splashed against Jaxx’s paralysed cheek. Finn made a small sound which might have been the beginning of the explanation or a complaint, but then his eyes started to roll backwards in his head. His knees collapsed, as if he were a puppet and a great unseen master had cut the strings. The massive chest wounds sucked and gurgled as his body crumpled to a trembling mass on the plastic coated floor of the ship.

  There was an impossibly long moment. Jaxx was holding the knife in front of his face. He examined his subordinate’s blood without making any sounds. His arm ached from the sudden exertion. The pain helped keep his rage from simmering down completely. The redness in his mind remained. He wanted to kneel to wipe the multi-faceted blade on Finn’s uniform, but he thought he might fall over. He swished the blade against the taut fabric of his uniform trousers. Once, then twice. Most of the blood came away from the blade, disappearing into the thick fibres of the black, woollen material. He looked down at Finn, then he examined the alien survivor.

  “Dispose of them both,” Jaxx said to the men behind him. He didn't even turn to look at them. “Please clean my dagger before returning it to me. I don't want that Relathon loving scum's blood near me.”

  The security men behind him gave loud affirmative responses. They dragged Finn's dead body away as his left leg kicked lifelessly and a red trail of blood marked his exit. Jaxx stepped further and pensively into the alien room.

  “What are you?” he said to the icy, stony face that lay crumpled against the wall, “What challenge have the Gods brought for me today?”

  He started to reload the Quartermaster. It was especially difficult with his withered left hand hindering more than helping, but he managed to slide the four fresh bullets into the chambers and he slid the cylinder back into place. The gun felt heavy in his hand. He liked the feeling.

  2195AD - SOTF Rabbit Shuttle.

  “Easy now,” Jim Quinn said, “That's it, easy now.”

  He was talking to himself. Silverman was staring. The pilot had passed out about an hour ago. One of the passengers said they thought he might have had a heart attack. But he was still breathing.

  Something was happening. There was something else in the wormhole with them. Another ship, Silverman hoped. He knew Quinn thought that too.

  “There it is!” Quinn said, “I knew someone was fishing. Look! Can you see?”

  Alice Krige was calmer. She'd exhausted herself with her stress level. Now she was glassy eyed and staring. But her hair was tidier, Silverman noted. She wasn't looking at the strange disk that appeared again in front of the shuttle. Silverman looked at the disk carefully and he smiled as he turned towards Quinn.

  “They are fishing,” He grinned, “You're right.”

  “Yes,” Quinn said quietly, “And I'll wager that someone's trying to rescue us.”

  “Is there anything we can do to help them? To let them know that we know they're there?”

  Quinn studied the controls. His hands were on the attitude handlebars and he twisted them left and right in a lazy, knowing manner, “We can't send a signal in the wormhole - it’s just not scientifically possible. Likewise, I can't adjust our position in the wormhole. The manoeuvring controls won't function until we're back in normal space.”

  “I just hope they're good at fishing,” Matt said, “But its promising, isn't it?”

  Quinn's eyes sparkled. “Oh yes, its promising. Maybe you'll get your Southern Comfort after all.”

  2195AD - SS Glasgow.

  The Glasgow was at a relative distance of five hundred metres from the shuttle. Professor Barrett's remote wormhole was flopping around on the end of its tether. It was the third device of six that Barrett had stowed aboard the ship. The first two had joined the swirling debris field in the wormhole.

  “There are a lot of forces involved,” He told Jackson, who somehow found it all fascinating, “The tether needs to be re-engineered. I understand that now. It’s just not strong enough. No, it’s not that. Not elastic enough. There's much more buffeting in the wormhole than I first reali
sed. It’s really, very interesting…”

  “It’s all very amazing,” Vazquez smiled thinly, but her eyes were cool, “But we need to focus a little bit, professor. We can't afford to lose another one of your flying saucers. Got it?”

  “We won't. I was getting a little bit carried away before. You might have noticed,” His small eyes sparkled and crinkled around the edges. Vazquez stared at him, unblinking, her mouth slightly open. “My, what lovely dark eyes you have.”

  Vazquez didn't move her face. She glanced sideways at Jackson. The right corner of her mouth moved upwards slightly in the ghost of a smile. Jackson noticed and he started to laugh. Her face hardened and the laugh died in his throat.

  Apple's voice sounded over the intercom.

  “I'm glad we're all being so professional down there. King tells me that we need to finish this up and get out of the wormhole. The scanner's giving some pretty interesting readings. Hang on a minute…”

  Barrett wasn't paying attention to the intercom. He was adjusting the controls for the remote wormhole key. Jackson was watching him closely and Vazquez realised that Jackson was more interested in his hair than anything else. Or at least that’s the way it seemed. And once she'd followed the youngster's eyes to Julian's hair she found herself mesmerised by it too - for a moment. Poor bastard. If he ever got a girlfriend that would be the first thing she'd have to work on.

  King's voice was always calm and casual. It was difficult to tell if he was under pressure using only his voice as a guide. His words were steady, slow and deliberate.

  “I'm just wondering if Professor Barrett has any idea what might happen if the wormhole collapses.”

  Barrett didn't even look up. He merely doffed his head from right to left as he briefly considered the question. Then he made a slight grimace and said, “Well, sir, it probably wouldn't be a great idea to be in the wormhole when that happened. That's all I'm saying.”

  Michelle Vazquez smiled broadly. Her white teeth caught Jackson's eye and he looked away quickly before she scolded him yet again.

 

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