Generation (Shadows of the Void Space Opera Serial Book 1)

by J. J. Green

  How could she convince anyone to listen to her? Her reputation was at an all-time low. None of the officers would believe what she had to say. And if she told anyone she’d been planetside, she’d be put in the brig and dismissed, or even prosecuted and fined when they returned to Earth, assuming they made it that far. Her only hope was Lingiari. She’d asked him to come to her cabin when his shift was over. She was sure he’d show. He’d seemed enthusiastic about the idea. She had to talk him into trying to alert the others that something was wrong with Loba and Margret. If Sparks examined them, surely some medical evidence would show up.

  In the meantime, she had several hours to kill. Jas lay on her bunk and turned on her screen to access the ship’s massive database. She stroked the image displayed, scrolling through the long list of options, until she found the section she was looking for: Hostile Extraterrestrial Life Forms.

  Each species was cataloged under its Earth name in phonetic script. She’d logged a few of these dangerous aliens herself. Though humans had never encountered a species that posed a threat outside its own planet, there seemed to be plenty of nasties lying in wait for unsuspecting prospectors on new worlds. Many of the more recent additions were unfamiliar to Jas. She clicked on a promising link on surprise attacks. It was a passage on long, lithe, ground-dwelling organisms that burrowed up from the dirt and into the feet of animals walking overhead. The creatures quickly tunneled through flesh and bones and into the main body, drawn to the central nervous system, which they then devoured.

  Jas recalled the news of the life form’s discovery. It couldn’t penetrate combat suits, and neither the C.S.O. leading the LIV nor his defense units had felt or taken note of the small thumps against the soles of their boots. The C.S.O. had given the planet the all-clear. The organisms had quickly massacred the first RA team to land. Had the team been wearing combat suits, they would have been fine, but, despite their own massive salaries, Polestar Corp’s executive board had judged the provision of combat suits for RA teams to be too expensive.

  Jas scrolled on. Previously unknown intelligent life—or, more correctly, life that Polestar acknowledged as intelligent, despite the obvious disincentive— was rare, but hostile life was common. The role of chief security officer was nigh on impossible to perform well. What new horrors a planet might hold were highly unpredictable, yet after a few short LIVs, security officers were expected to clear the areas as safe for resource assessment. Though their contracts stated that they carried no personal liability if they made a mistake, the emotional toll of seeing friends and colleagues die because they made a bad call could be devastating.

  Jas counted herself lucky that, so far, no one had died on her watch, though she’d had some close calls. She couldn’t do her job properly with Loba tying her hands. It was poetic justice that it looked like the master himself had fallen victim to his own lax expediency.

  She filtered the information in the database for parasites, body possession, mind control, and influence on human behavior. The results dwindled to a handful. The only case she could find that sounded similar to what was happening on K. 67092d was an incident involving a gas in a planet’s atmosphere that scanners had failed to detect. The security officer in that case couldn’t be blamed for what had happened. Wearing his combat suit, he hadn’t breathed the local air. It wasn’t part of the job. Scientists were the testers. Security officers weren’t canaries in coalmines, and defense units don’t breath. When the RA team had arrived, the gas had entered their bloodstreams and crossed the blood-brain barrier. It’d destroyed their higher brain functions, and the team had been reduced to living, breathing vegetables within minutes.

  She closed the database screen, and rested her arm over her eyes. Despite these terrible accidents, people continued to sign up for work aboard the prospecting ships. Life on Earth grew harder every year, and the chances of achieving a financially comfortable, long life and peaceful retirement grew slimmer. Jas understood only too well why companies like Polestar had an endless queue of applicants. The get-rich-quick prospect was tantalizing to many, and employers downplayed the risks. How long would her lucky streak of protecting these crews last? Maybe it was time for her to consider another career.

  Her interface chirruped. She had a message from Sparks. Reading it, she groaned. She’d failed the mental health assessment. Of course. The doctor prescribed a muscle relaxant, an anti-psychotic, and an anti-anxiety medication. He was going to dope her up as revenge for her forceful eviction of him from her cabin. She thumped the wall with her fist so hard she hurt her hand. Damn the misborn. But she couldn’t refuse treatment. Loba—or whatever was now controlling him—could have her put in the brig, where there would be no way to sneak out. If she was restrained indefinitely, for the rest of the mission, who would protect the crew? She grimaced. She hadn’t been doing that great a job of protecting them herself.

  She turned on her side. She had to think of a plan, but nothing would come. After some time, mental exhaustion forced her eyes closed, and she slept.

  She was back in Antarctica. It was summer, and the ice was melting. The ground was slick and treacherous. Soon, there would be no ice left, they said. Great sheets had broken off over the previous few decades, floating away to slowly melt into the ocean. Billions of tons of fresh water ice, gone forever.

  Jas was looking out over the ocean. At first, she couldn’t remember why she was there, then it came to her. She was looking for something. She’d lost something in the water, and she had to find it.

  She rolled up her pants legs and took off her boots and socks. The first touch of the icy water on her toes made her suck in a breath. She waded deeper, and the waves soon soaked her pants up to her thighs and numbed her feet and calves. What was she looking for? She couldn’t remember, except that it was something important. A sense of urgency rose up in her. She went deeper in, up to her waist. She had to find it quickly, or it would be too late. A wave took her full in the face, and she choked on seawater.

  Something heavy bumped against her thigh. Was this it? She grabbed blindly in the water. Her fingers met cloth. She took hold of it and pulled. This was it. Finally, she’d found it.

  A face rose up: skin deathly pale, eyes open and still, mouth spilling water, black hair trailing. Jas tried to scream, but another wave took her, ripping the man from her grasp. It lifted her from her feet, and crushed her under its weight. She couldn’t breathe. She fought to reach the surface, but she was trapped in the rolling water. She was going to drown, she was—gasping, awakening.

  Jas sat upright in her bunk. It took her a few moments to realize where she was, that she wasn’t back at training college in Antarctica, and that it had all been a dream. The same nightmare as always.

  She lay down and, after some time, she slept.

  ***

  Her door chime woke her. Groggy with sleep, for a tense moment Jas thought Loba or Margret had come to take her to the planet so she could be possessed by an alien. She sat up, trying to figure out who was at the door. Was it a drone with Spark’s prescription? No, the pills had been put through her door slot. Her memory fully returned. She’d asked Lingiari to come over. “Door, open.”

  The rangy copilot stood in the entrance, clutching a box and looking pleased, for some reason. Maybe he’d figured out what they should do.

  “Come in,” said Jas. “What’s been happening? How are Margret and Loba acting? Has anyone else been affected?”

  “Woah, slow down,” said Lingiari. “Have you eaten? Are you hungry?” He sat down and put the box on her desk. He began to open it.

  “No, I’m not,” replied Jas, though her stomach rumbled as she spoke. What was the man doing? Didn’t he understand the situation? The copilot was peeling the lid off a foil pack. A rich, fishy scent escaped, and Jas’ mouth watered. “Tell me what happened on the RA trip today. What did you see?”

  “Eat up, and I’ll tell you all about it.” He held out the package and a fork. “It’s smoked oysters.”<
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  “Lingiari, I don’t know what the hell you’re doing, but, please, cut it out and answer me.”

  The man seemed to deflate. He took back the oysters, sighed, and started to eat them himself. “What do you want to know?” He spoke from the corner of his mouth as he chewed. “I took a team down for an RA and brought them back when they’d finished. That’s it.”

  “Where did they go? Did they enter one of the structures? Were they acting strangely like Loba and Margret when they came back?”

  Lingiari swallowed and licked his fork before plunging it into the oysters again. “They weren’t near any buildings this time. It was a volcanic zone. Pretty active. Had to get out when the ship’s scanners detected that a potential earthquake was building.”

  “That’s a relief. It sounds like the RA team was safe this time, but we’ve got to do something, Lingiari. If we don’t, the whole crew’s in danger.”

  The copilot’s attention was on a large forkful of pale brown oysters on its way to his mouth, dripping oil. “Yeah, but...” he popped the oysters in and looked thoughtful as his mouth worked, “what?”

  “We need to convince the other officers that Loba isn’t to be trusted, and they’ll declare him incompetent and take over the running of the ship. They’ll get us away from this planet. Sparks can try to find out what’s happened to the master and Margret. I might be able to convince them if you back me up. They must have noticed that Loba’s acting oddly by now.”

  “Take over the running of the Galathea?” Carl put down his fork. “Isn’t that mutiny?”

  “Not if the master’s incapacitated, it isn’t. It’s the only sensible thing the officers can do. I just need to persuade them. You’ll support me, right?”

  “I’m right by your side, Jas. Can I call you Jas, Harrington? I’m with you. In everything.” He gazed into her eyes.

  “Great,” replied Jas, wondering briefly if Lingiari had been infected too. But he wasn’t acting vacant like Loba and Margret. Just...peculiar. “In that case, you can come with me.”

  “What? Where are you going?”

  “Where do you think I’m going? The flight deck. And you’re coming with me.” She jumped up and strode past Lingiari. The copilot hastily pushed his fork into the tin of oysters, but it slipped out and fell to the floor with a clatter.

  “Don’t you think you’re being a bit quick off the mark?” he asked. But Jas was already on her way out.

  Chapter Twelve

  Her mind was made up, and Jas acted. She sped through the Galathea toward the flight deck, where Loba and other high-ranking staff could be found when they were on shift. From behind her came the sound of Lingiari’ss footsteps, half-running to keep up.

  “Harrington, hey, slow down.”

  A crew member gaped as he recognized her. The news that she’d been confined to her cabin must have been hot gossip around the ship. She brushed past him, nearly knocking the man from his feet.

  “Wait a minute, Harrington,” the copilot called.

  “We don’t have time for any more talking, Lingiari,” she said over her shoulder. “Every RA team that goes down to the planet is vulnerable. We know Margret and Loba have been infected. How many more are there? We have to convince the officers about what’s happening and get them to call a halt to the assessment trips.”

  Lingiari caught up with her and grabbed her arm. “You know, on second thoughts, I don’t think this is such a good idea.”

  Jas stopped and faced him. “Do you have a better one?” They were in a high-traffic corridor. Galathea crew members passed on either side, giving the pair looks. One woman paused at the sight of them and moved a short distance away before speaking into her comm button. When Lingiari didn’t answer her question, Jas said, “I have to get to the flight deck, now. Before it’s too late.”

  She strode away without checking if Lingiari was following. If he wasn’t going to support her, she would just have to try her best by herself. A moment later, she burst into the flight control room. All eyes turned to her as she stood at the door.

  Jas rarely went to the flight deck, but the oval area was just as she remembered it. Displayed on the walls around the room were images of the star systems and planets scheduled for investigation and assessment that mission. Below the planets that they had already assessed was a set of figures estimating their resource availability and potential revenue. The figures were red. When the Galathea claimed sufficient resources to bring in bonuses, the numbers below the planets would be green. The display had been Loba’s idea, to keep everyone’s mind on the money. It was a constant reminder to the officers to work faster and harder.

  The master was in his usual spot, seated on an elevated plinth toward the back of the room. First Mate Haggardy was to one side, reading an interface. The second mate’s seat on the other side of Loba was empty, but the rest of them—the chief engineer, third mate, pilot, quartermaster, RA team leader and a handful of cadets—were at their stations. Navigator Lee was looking at her with her mouth open.

  For a moment, no one spoke. Now that she was there, Jas wasn’t sure what to say; how could she convince them that their master was compromised, with Loba sitting right there looking exactly the same as always? But couldn’t they see there was something wrong? He should have reacted strongly to her presence. He should have commanded her removal. But he only stared like the rest of them. Couldn’t they tell, or were they too afraid of being the first to say something?

  Haggardy was the first to act. He pressed the comm link on his desk. “Security to the flight deck.” His eyes narrowed at her. “You’re disobeying orders, Harrington. You heard what the master said. If you leave your cabin, you’re to be sent to the brig.”

  “Wait, listen to me. Loba went planetside with Margret Stratton. You know that. They’ve been taken over by something on the planet. I don’t know what it is, but you have to halt the RA trips before we have more victims. The master isn’t fit to serve and should be removed from duty.”

  “Dr. Sparks forwarded your report,” said Haggardy. “You’re suffering from a mental illness. These thoughts you’re having are just one of your symptoms.”

  “I’m not sick,” Jas exclaimed. She pointed at Loba. “Haven’t you noticed he’s been acting strangely?”

  Haggardy turned to Loba, who only returned the gaze and shook his head slightly. “Stop right there, Harrington,” Haggardy said. “I don’t care how ill you are. I won’t have you accusing the master of this vessel of incompetency.”

  “What about that trip he took, Haggardy? Any of you?” She scanned their faces. From their expressions, she wasn’t convincing anyone. She clenched her fists. “When has he ever done anything like that? Look at him. He’s been acting weird since, hasn’t he?” No one would meet her eyes. Lingiari had come in with her, but he was hanging in the background, looking non-committal. “Lingiari agrees with me,” she blurted.

  “That’s enough,” said Haggardy. “Don’t start dragging other crew members into your fantasy.”

  The flight deck door opened, and Jas turned to see two on-ship security officers enter. Her officers. They looked embarrassed and a little afraid.

  “Take her to the brig,” commanded Haggardy.

  Jas swung back to face him. “I’m not going anywhere until you listen to me. You cannot leave that man in charge of the ship. You have to stop the crew from going down to the planet.”

  Haggardy motioned with his head to the security detail behind her. Hands gripped her arms. The situation was getting annoying. She back-fisted one man, breaking his nose, and drove her elbow into the solar plexus of the other. As the men staggered back, she turned and kicked the head of the man holding his stomach. He fell down senseless. The one whose nose she’d broken drew his weapon. Blood dripped from his chin, and his eyes watered.

  Jas put her hands on her hips. “Frank, really?”

  Frank quailed under her stare, and in his momentary distraction, Jas kicked the weapon from his hand a
nd moved in for a headlock. “Sorry,” she said, as she knocked his skull just hard enough against a rail that he dropped, unconscious, to the floor. She would have to improve training for on-ship security. That was much too easy. They’d gotten slack. Jas scooped up the fallen weapon and took the other man’s from its holster. “Thanks, Haggardy. Now you have to listen to me.” She swept the room with the weapons. Lingiari had backed into a corner. “Just go,” Jas told him.

  As the copilot left, Jas began to outline to the flight control room what they had to do. Loba, Margret, and everyone else who had been to the planet without the protection of a combat suit—there had to be a reason she was unaffected, despite entering the structures—was under suspicion and had to be relieved of duty while they were tested. All RA trips had to be cancelled, and the Galathea would have to return to Earth and enter quarantine while the xenobiologists figured out what to do.

  While she was speaking the assembled officers and cadets remained silent. She stopped. There was an uncomfortable pause. To her surprise, Haggardy said, “Maybe you have a point there, Harrington. Tell us some more.” He glanced at the door. He must have called another security detail while she was distracted with dealing with the first one. Damn the misborn. She’d have to fight these officers too. It didn’t matter. She could take down any of her on-ship guards. Being better than them was part of her job. Eventually, Haggardy and the others would have to listen to her.

  The two men she’d knocked out were coming around. She trained her weapons on their figures. Behind them, the flight deck door opened, and Jas’ jaw dropped. Krat. Haggardy hadn’t called on-ship security, he’d summoned two of her defense units. AX7 and AX10 lumbered onto the deck. There would be no defeating these two. No intimidation nor recourse to personal history. Defense units obeyed the highest-ranking officer’s commands unquestioningly and unrelentingly. Taking her to the brig was just another task for them.