The Colony Ship Conestoga : The Complete Series: All Eight Books
Page 220
“So are we heading for those things?” Jerome asked. “Are we doomed?”
“Oh, no, I do not think so. For the Zalians heaved us, to use a crude term, away from their planet, and toward that thing you called the Cosmic Crinkle,” Eris replied. “They did warn that the Apex Predators are coming, and from the records we got, I am not sure how long until they arrive. The Zalian records show the Apex Predators have faster-than-light capabilities, and some FTL communication systems, so we must assume their automated satellite system alerted them. But the Zalians also pushed us right toward that Cosmic Crinkle. They call it a thin-place, and from what AI Ogma sent us, it is a portal or place where we will be taken elsewhere in the universe. That happened to the Conestoga on the way here, and to you when you came in the FTL scout.”
“It was very disconcerting,” Jerome answered. “Sandie said it threw us something like 1700 light years. Will that just toss us back toward Earth? Earth is dead.”
“No, Jerome, from what the Zalians did in that last push they gave us, we will intersect that Cosmic Crinkle and be thrown toward this.” Eris hit a switch on her chair.
The image of the Apex Predator disappeared. It was replaced by the beautiful, earth-like planet they had seen before.
“A new home?” Jerome asked. “Really? We will go there?”
“That is what the Zalians, those Crocks and Floaters, did for us,” Eris replied. “But Jerome, those Apex Predators are coming. Will you be the head of our weapons and defenses? The Apex Predators are not like the Crocks; we know these Jellies are vicious killers. They slaughtered all the Zalians. Unless we can defend ourselves, and vigorously, when they come we will die. We might get to the Cosmic Crinkle before they come. Siva, Peter, and a crew are working on getting the main drive going. We will need it on the other side to get into orbit. But we must have defenses. One way or the other, this will be the last flight of the Conestoga.”
The end.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
John Thornton lives with his beloved wife, two weird dogs, an ancient cat who is, as of this writing nearly nineteen years old, and needs to be in suspended animation. When John’s grown daughters and sons-in-law come to visit his emotions ascend to great heights.
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Last Flight of the Conestoga
Book 8: The Colony Ship Conestoga
John Thornton
Copyright © 2016 Automacube Enterprises LLC
All rights reserved.
ISBN-13: 978-1539008170
ISBN-10: 1539008177
DEDICATION
This book is dedicated to my family. They have been wonderful helpers to me through so many different situations.
Thanks for always being there for me. You are all so awesome.
CONTENTS
This work is a fictional account. If any of the people, artificial intelligences, synthetic brains, machines, aliens, planets, or other things in this book remind you of real life, well ok. I write from what I know so some of my history probably shows up in my writing.
If you like this book, please check out the Colony Ship Eschaton series which is complete, or the Colony Ship Vanguard series which is also complete. This book completes the Colony Ship Conestoga series. Future books will probably be written about the other colony ships as well. Also, check out the Facebook page for the Colony Ship Eschaton for all the latest details on upcoming releases. Thanks!
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Cover art by Dede Fox
1 Confronted with annihilation
Jerome’s looked down at the Willie Blaster in his sweaty hand. Its indicator showed it was low on energy and on ammunition materials. His bent knees were almost touching his chest as he tried to get even lower to the deck. ‘How can the energy be depleted so fast?’ he asked himself. Glancing at his belt, he saw no fusion pack, and his backpack was gone too. ‘Where did they go?’ More sweat dribbled down his face, to be whisked away by the RAM clothing he wore.
He looked at the strange, unfamiliar, and bizarre corridor which was lit in a pulsing purple glow. No stains on the walls, so it was not the needle ship. The walls were not recognized, nor was the location. ‘Somewhere in Alpha?’ he pondered but had no time to consider it longer. Something was coming. The purple glow was rising at the end of the corridor.
Piff.
Jerome fired toward the purple glow, but was unsure if he hit anything. There was a shaking all around him. Leaping up, he sprinted away from the glow. ‘Where are the boys?’ Jerome asked himself. ‘Are they with Monika?’ He turned a corner, and there he found the light was less purple hued, and was more a dull bluish color. He squatted down again. Heart pounding. Breathing ragged. Twisting his head from side to side, he could not distinguish anything which looked familiar. ‘Where am I?’
Something large and wet stuck the wall near him, and made a sickening, splattering sound. It slid down the wall, and piled in a heap. It had once been human, but was now a mound of shattered flesh wrapped in bloody clothing.
Jerome ran, firing the Willie Blaster behind him as he fled.
Piff. Piff.
With his other hand, he tapped for his com-link, but his ear was empty. He checked the other ear as he made it to a stairway. His com-link was gone. Fusion packs gone. Backpack gone. Ammunition nearly depleted. Energy low.
‘Where is someone?’ Jerome’s mind raced. ‘Up or down?’ He looked at the stairway. Neither option gave him any indicators of where he was or which way to go. He again looked at the Willie Blaster. He adjusted the power level, which had been at maximum. ‘I will get more shots with less power. I hope.’ Jerome checked the compartment at the back where the ammunition compressor was, and it was reading nearly empty. ‘I can feed it any substance for compression to projectiles, but what to use?’
There was no growth medium on the floor. No mushrooms growing anywhere. No chunks of wreckage, permalloy or softer metals like steel or even some kind of trash. The body had been back toward the enemy, so that was out. The stairway was almost sterile in its emptiness. ‘What is happening?’ He dared now verbalize his questions, but they raged in his mind.
Something whipped down from above him. It roughly brushed past his face, casing a raking pain. He ducked away. He had no idea what it was, but a blur of purplish-blue streaked past him.
Piff. Piff.
He fell backward as he fired, his lean and muscular body responding. With his wide-open, hazel-colored eyes, he searched for what had attacked him. The thing which had struck out at him was gone.
From somewhere below, down the stairway, perhaps, he heard a baby crying.
“I am coming Kalur!” Jerome yelled out with intensity. His baby sounded terrified. “I am on my way!”
Before the echo of his own cry faded out, the purple glow rapidly increased in brightness. It was the same color as that satellite network which had destroyed the planet Zalia. Something moved behind him. He felt air push past him. Jerome twirled and tried to fire the Willie Blaster again, but nothing happened. The trigger did not move. The gauge on the butt of the weapon was flashing red. It had no more ammunition, and the power level was almost nil. He tried to holster it, but the holster was missing. He tucked it into his belt, and sprinted down the stairs.
The landing below was lit with yellow emergency lighting, and Jerome rushed past that. He stopped and took some deep breaths. His medium complexed face was dripping in his own sweat which was running down from his short, curly, dark brown hair. He shook his head, trying to get the sweat out of his eyes. It was salty and stung. Again, he heard his baby cry, this time it was little Brink. He raced through a bulkhead doorway which led from the landing. “SB Sherman, are you here? Where are my sons?”
There was no answer.
The yellow emergency lighting behind him was engulfed the purple glow. Snapping sounds signified that the lighting fixtures were being crushed. Jerome screamed out. “Monika! Anybody! Where are the boys? What is happening?”
As he ran, he passed a doorway where the door was partially open, sticking about two-thirds out of its wall pocket. The sounds of babies crying came from that. Jerome turned sideways and shoved at the pressure door to open it further. It would not budge.
The babies were crying in frightened, frantic, and forlorn wails.
Jerome’s skin crawled and tingled as he heard the babies. He squeezed and wiggled his way through the jammed doorway. His RAM suit tore with the force of his struggle. The door’s edge ripped his chest, tearing out hair, flesh, and caused bleeding.
“I am coming! Someone help! Monika? Sandie? Eris?” Jerome yelled as he twisted and pulled himself though. He fell to the floor as he made it past the stuck door. Just as he hit the deck, the purple glow filled the corridor beyond the door. It was pulsating and undulating in deep blues and purples. The light hurt his eyes more than did the salty sweat.
“Jerome? Where are you?” a woman called.
Jerome could not tell who it was. It sounded like Cammarry at first, but then his mind said it was Monika. Perhaps it was Eris, but she was younger sounding.
“Help the boys! Get them to safety!” Jerome hollered back. “I will fight it off as long as I can! Just save the boys!”
He stood up. His shirt was in rags, and fell off his shoulders. The RAM clothing was deteriorating as it crumbled off his body. He did not have time to ponder why the tough material was now suddenly disintegrating from his frame. Something large and menacing moved on the far side of the door. Its shadow was lurking there. Its presence was ominous. The danger was coming.
His babies screamed in horror. He could not tell from what direction their piteous cries originated. He looked around, but the light was inadequate to see. It was all awash in a purple glare which blinded him. The light was so painful to his eyes he could not see what direction to go. The halls, corridors, floor, and ceiling all blurred together into a collage of ethereal, purplish, otherworldly shadows. He stepped forward and smacked into a wall which he could not see. He spun around but he struck a corner and was knocked to one knee.
“NO!”
The smells of ammonia, and rotting flesh came to him in a wave which almost physically knocked him down. The babies’ crying was so loud, so anguished, and fear-filled that his head throbbed from their cries.
“I am coming!” Jerome yelled. “Monika! Sandie! Someone! Anyone!” He looked around, but the only discernable thing was the jammed doorway with the evil, shadowy thing and its purple light glowing through. The thing on the other side of the door was watching, leering, creeping toward him.
Jerome pulled the Willie Blaster out of his belt, its indicator light was dark. Energy gone. Ammunition gone. The trigger useless. He held it by the handgrip. The barrel was tough and it would make a small, but serviceable club. He cocked his arm back, ready to strike.
The thing which lurked beyond the door was coming. The doors, for he now saw the jammed threshold was where two pressure doors met, were swelling and receding with the pulsing of the purple light. His children’s shrieking cries ascended to almost inhuman pitches.
“Someone get to them. Help the boys!”
Suddenly, just as the cries reached a zenith, they cut off.
The silent ending of their cries was worse, if that was possible, than their anguished wailing.
“Boys?” Jerome asked, trembling with worry and angst.
The doors began to melt, bend, and dribble away under the unholy purple light which was blazing toward Jerome. It was coming.
“Jerome?”
He turned his head.
“Jerome?”
“Monika?” Jerome sat up. His heart was hammering in his chest.
Monika’s gentle arms wrapped around him. “You were crying out in your sleep. I have you.”
“Monika? The babies!” Jerome swung his legs over, but Monika held onto him.
“Hush. Jerome, they are fine. I just checked them. I woke up a bit ago and could not go back to sleep. The boys are safe.” Monika reassured him and kissed the side of his head. “Oh my, you are all sweaty and smelly. That must have been a whopper of a nightmare.”
“What? Nightmare? I must see the boys. I just must,” Jerome insisted.
Monika still hugged him, but she relaxed her hold a bit. With one hand, she tapped a switch and a small, normal-colored, light came on. It lit the corner of their bedroom. “Oh, I do understand. But do not wake them yet. We need to get ready for the funeral, and it will be easier if they sleep a bit more before we leave.”
“Funeral? Oh, right,” Jerome said as he scooted to the edge of the bed. “Old Danny’s funeral. The Goat People, I remember.” He looked around the room, everything appeared normal, but he kept looking for the thing which his mind had known was after them. He looked back to Monika, and then threw his arms around her. “They are safe?”
“Yes, Jerome. Our sons are safe.” Monika was dressed in an oversized shirt; her brown hair was loose around her pretty face. In the dim light, her pale complexion was more noticeable, as she looked very white. Her greenish hazel colored eyes were large as they looked at Jerome. “You had a horrible nightmare.”
“Really? It was just a dream?” Jerome had shorts on and as he stood he half expected to see his RAM suit covering his body. Or crumbled into pieces around his feet. He looked down, and saw that it was not ripped to pieces. He shook his head, then flexed his arms a couple of time. “I need to see the boys.”
“Oh course, but they are safe. Are you?”
“I will be. Thanks.” Jerome kissed her softly.
They walked, hand in hand, into the room next to theirs where the twin boys were sleeping in their crib. Standing next to the bed, Jerome leaned over and gently touched Kalur whose arm was resting out from under the blanket. Jerome could feel the baby’s pulse beating nice and regularly. Both boys’ breathing was pleasant and even as well. Jerome’s muscles relaxed.
Monika tucked the blanket back over Kalur’s arm and led Jerome off to the bathroom.
In the bathroom, she wrapped her arms about Jerome’s neck and looked him in the eyes. “Do you want to talk about that nightmare? You have had several in the last few weeks. Has it been worse since Alpha ascended?”
Jerome kissed her on the lips, and held her close.
Pulling apart, Monika put a hand on his chest and whispered, “I wish we had more time for that, but we need to go to the funeral.” Looking into his eyes she then added, “But later we can take this up again.” She caressed him with a promise of future passion. “Now, while we shower, do you want me to soap you up first, or do you want to wash my back to start?” Her eyes were playful.
“I better shower alone this time,” Jerome replied. “But I agree, later we will be together.”
“I will hold you too that, and a lot more. So, what was your dream about? We can talk while you wash. You must wash, and use as much water as you need to. Relish it. No gritty sanitation foams.”
“I grew up with those gritty sanitation foams. It took a while to get Reproduction and Fabrication to make sanitation foam right for me,” Jerome responded.
“Call me backward and primitive, but that high-tech, lacking-in-water, grit is nasty. It might sterilize stuff, but it is not a proper way to get clean. Our sons will know how to properly bathe, even if it is the primitive way. You know, even during Beta’s long drought, we were never as stingy about water use as you are. Water is for bathing, and you should embrace that. The connection to the Alpha underground reservoir has given the needle ship, I guess I should say the Colony Ship Conestoga, more than enough water to carry us through this voyage.” Monika walked over and pulled off her sleeping clothing and began to dress.
Jerome admired her figure, but responded, “I know the water supplies are there, the Loop River, with that huge under the biome reservoir, but my old habitats from Dome 17 are hard to break. I am also aware of how few people the Conestoga has now compared to what it had at launch, but we also have seven missing habitat
s. But your point is well taken, as usual. As to the dream, well it was about those creatures, the Apex Predators. Sandie said that according to the records from the Crocks, they are some kind of aquatic dwellers.”