The Falken Chronicles

by Piers Platt

Shep strolled into the room a moment later. He pounded his chest with a fist. “Let’s do this!”

  “Where’s your brother?” Falken asked.

  “Bathroom,” Shep said, glancing over his shoulder. “He should be along any minute.”

  “Okay. Let’s get you strapped in,” Falken said, patting Shep’s pod.

  Shep took his helmet off its hook and then stepped up, twisting as he sat down in the pod. Falken checked that his harness was in place, and the pod was connected to Shep’s proxy down on the surface. Then he gave Shep a fist bump.

  “See you down there,” Falken said, and shut the lid.

  He soon fell into the familiar rhythm of helping the guests into their pods, and when they were all snugged inside, he climbed into his own pod. Greban shut the lid over him, and Falken felt the warm gel ooze up beneath him. He slipped the helmet down over his eyes, and took a deep breath.

  *

  Falken checked the map on the truck’s display panel, and then pulled to a stop. The vehicle settled down to the ground as the hoverfans slowed. The slope of Mount Olympus loomed overhead, steep and foreboding. Falken checked the sky in all directions, then slipped his door open and stepped carefully outside. He walked several feet, then stopped to bend down, touching several small mushrooms, and a patch of lichen. He straightened up and hurried back to the truck, closing himself inside the canopy quickly.

  “Okay, guys,” he turned in his seat. “I’ve got multiple faun tracks and some fresh spoor, which means a herd of fauns passed this way less than an hour ago. If the dragons aren’t here already, they will be soon.” He eyed the guests in the truck, smiling. “You guys ready?” he asked.

  “Hell yeah!” Kuda said.

  “No,” Vina said, but she smiled nervously, and took the noise cancellation staff from Falken’s outstretched arm.

  Raynard reached for his own staff, then stopped. “What was that?” he asked, steadying himself with an arm against the seat. “I thought I felt the ground move.”

  Falken spun in his seat, frowning. “I didn’t see anything …”

  … but I sure felt it. A big lurch, like the truck got hit by something. What was that?

  “Earthquake?” Shep guessed.

  Falken shook his head. “We would have had some advance warning if there was going to be seismic activity today.”

  “Now I feel dizzy,” Vina said. “Like … vertigo or something.”

  “… like we’re falling,” Raynard finished.

  Falken’s eyes went wide. He searched the sky frantically for a moment. Then he saw it: past a thin patch of clouds, a dark form trailing smoke and fire was plummeting toward the ground.

  Ed caught sight of Falken’s horrified gaze and turned to look. “What’s that?”

  The dark form deployed several parachutes, and Falken saw retro-rockets firing on full blast, trying to slow its rapid descent. But the ship was heavily damaged, and falling too fast.

  “Falken, what is that?” Vina repeated, fear creeping into her voice.

  His voice was hoarse. “That’s the Ecolympus. That’s us.”

  The ship disappeared behind a rock column, and then everything went dark.

  Chapter 10

  Commander Jiyake sipped her latte, and then skimmed through another newsnet article on the display screen mounted into the wooden bar counter. Over the back of the bar, the day’s scheduled arrivals ticked upward on a large vidscreen. Jiyake knew them by heart, but still mentally checked them off as each familiar ship name scrolled upward. A soft thump distracted her, and she turned to see a duffel bag dropped onto the floor. Captain Muir of the Liberty Belle stood next to the bag, smiling amiably.

  “Mind if I join?” Muir asked.

  “Hey, welcome back,” Jiyake said. “Take a seat.”

  The barista wandered over. “Coffee, black, one sugar?” she asked Muir.

  “Yes, please,” Muir confirmed.

  “You need a refill?” the barista asked Jiyake.

  “No, thanks,” Jiyake said. She turned on her stool as Muir sat next to her. “Good trip?”

  Muir shrugged. “Can’t complain.”

  “Any unwanted hitchhikers this time?” Jiyake asked.

  “Dragons?” Muir asked. “No. They decided to leave us alone. It’s a crapshoot – some trips they’re all over us, tearing at the hull, flapping everywhere. Other trips, nothing. Talus swears it has something to do with the weather.”

  “Hm? In what way?”

  “It’s just his theory,” Muir said. The barista brought her mug of coffee over, and Muir thanked her. “I don’t put any stock in it, but if it’s sunny and clear, Talus thinks they stay away. Then whenever it’s overcast, he’s like, ‘storm clouds, Captain, that’s a bad sign.’ ”

  Jiyake smiled. “He’s getting to be like an old fisherman. ‘Barometer’s dropping, I can feel it in my bones – we’re in for a gale’!”

  “Right? He sees some cloud cover and immediately gets worried that the dragons are going to make a run at us.”

  “Have you asked the research team if there’s any truth to that?” Jiyake asked.

  Muir chuckled. “No. I haven’t checked the ship’s log, but I’m ninety percent sure he’s full of crap. Talus is just superstitious.”

  “Great pilot, though,” Jiyake observed.

  “That he is,” Muir agreed. “And good stick-jockeys are allowed to have some quirks. I think it’s part of the job description. Anyway, how have things been around here?”

  “Same old,” Jiyake said, stifling a yawn. “Yesterday’s big excitement was when we found a cargo transport whose reactor inspection was overdue.” She sipped her latte again. “In other words, Harrison’s Waypoint was completely quiet and uneventful while you were gone.”

  “You sound disappointed,” Muir said.

  “Not at all,” the Colonial Guard commander replied. “Quiet and uneventful is exactly how I like things. It means I’m doing my job right.”

  “Or maybe the bad guys have all figured out how to sneak things past you,” Muir teased.

  Jiyake frowned. “You think so? I hadn’t thought about it like that.”

  Muir laughed. “Jiyake, relax. I’m kidding – this has to be the most well-policed pit-stop in the colonies. Last year you wrote me up for a typo on my passenger manifest, for God’s sake.”

  “Yeah, sorry about that,” Jiyake said. “But I couldn’t go easy on you just because we’re friends.”

  Muir laughed. “I know. But you can buy me another coffee to make it up to me.”

  “Oh no,” Jiyake said, wagging her finger. “That was a fifty dollar fine. I’ve bought you way more than fifty dollars’ worth of coffee by now.”

  At the same instant, both women’s wrist-mounted datapads vibrated. Jiyake’s glowed red, as well. She frowned. “That’s an emergency alert,” she said.

  “Mine too,” Muir said, tapping on the wristpad’s screen. “Did you guys have a drill planned for today or something?”

  “No.”

  “Talus is paging me,” Muir said, reading from her wristpad. “What do you want to bet we’re both getting called about the same thing?”

  “Seems likely,” Jiyake agreed, standing up from her stool. “Olympus?”

  “Shit, I hope not,” Muir said. She grabbed her duffel bag and the two women hurried through the coffee shop, emerging into one of the space station’s pedestrian corridors. A uniformed Colonial Guard petty officer hurried over to them.

  “Commander, distress call from Olympus,” he said.

  Muir pointed across the way to a docking tube. “I’m docked right here at Gate Seven,” she said. “Talus has gotta be monitoring the same transmission.”

  Jiyake nodded. “Lead the way.”

  They found Talus half-dressed in a vacuum suit, standing by a communications terminal in the Liberty Belle’s cargo hold.

  “Hey, Commander,” he said, greeting Jiyake.

  “Talus, what’s going on?” Muir asked.


  “I was getting ready for a spacewalk to go check out that thruster,” Talus told her, gesturing at his spacesuit. “Then I got a call from Hylie. The Ecolympus just crashed.”

  “Crashed?” Muir said, aghast.

  “What happened?” Jiyake asked.

  Talus turned to his screen. “Hylie, I’ve got Commander Jiyake and Captain Muir here now. Want to catch them up?”

  On the screen in front of him, Jiyake and Muir saw Captain Hylie nod. “I’ll tell you what I know, but it’s not much,” she said. “We were prepping our guests to displace down to the surface for the morning safari tour, and then our computer alerted us that the Ecolympus was dropping out of orbit. By the time I got up to the bridge, they were already on the ground, it happened that fast.”

  “Are they alive?” Jiyake asked.

  “I don’t know,” Hylie said. “I’ve been trying to raise them for the past five minutes, but I’m not getting any answer.”

  “How hard did they hit?” Talus asked. “Are we talking full free-fall, or did they still have some thrust?”

  “More crash than landing, I think,” Hylie said. “Our sensors lost visual on them when they descended past the drone patrol, but their engines were still operational at that point. The drones lit them up, though – they thought it was an unauthorized entry, I guess.”

  “Let’s hope the drones didn’t knock out whatever power they had left,” Talus said.

  “Mm,” Hylie said.

  “Have you got visual on the crash site?” Jiyake asked.

  “Thermal only,” Hylie said. “There’s a layer of clouds up now. The ship looks like it’s still intact. It didn’t explode or break up, at least.”

  “That’s a good sign,” Muir said. “If they’d been coming in too fast, the wreckage would be spread over a couple miles, at least.” She checked her wristpad, noting the time. “Talus, are we refueling?”

  “Not yet,” he said.

  “Go, now,” the captain urged him. “I want a full tank.”

  “Roger,” he said, jogging back down the craft’s docking tube, shuffling awkwardly in the spacesuit.

  “You think they’re alive?” Jiyake asked Muir.

  “I think we have to assume they are.”

  “Agreed. But search-and-rescue is my responsibility. It’s one of the Colonial Guard’s primary missions ….” Jiyake said, biting her lip.

  “… except the Extremis doesn’t have the armor to land on Olympus,” Muir continued. “And you know it. The Liberty Belle’s the only ship that can do it. Hell, it has to be us.”

  “I can’t order you to go,” Jiyake said, frowning.

  “You don’t have to. I’m going either way,” Muir said. “You’re in command – you coordinate the overall mission, we’ll execute.”

  Jiyake sighed with relief. “Okay. But I’m thinking I might bring the Extremis along with you – or at least have it on standby back here, in case you need us. What’s the travel time to Olympus?”

  “Three hours,” Muir said.

  Jiyake shook her head. “We can’t do much good back here on standby, then.”

  “You mind tagging along?” Muir asked.

  “Not at all,” Jiyake said. She turned to the petty officer that had brought them the news in the corridor. “Send out a mobilization alert. I want everyone at their stations in fifteen minutes, and I want to be launching fifteen minutes after that.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, and turned to go, activating his wristpad’s communications system as he ran.

  “Captain Muir, you’re cleared to launch as soon as you’re ready,” Jiyake said. “We’ll be right behind you. The Belle will land and attempt to recover any survivors of the Ecolympus, while the Extremis serves as the mobile command center for the operation. And we’ll be ready to put our sick bay to use if the survivors need medical assistance.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Muir said. “Hylie, we’re going to launch just as soon as we can, okay?”

  “Good,” Hylie said. “Let me know how we can help.”

  Muir turned and looked at Jiyake.

  The Colonial Guard commander frowned. “For starters, stay off the surface, at least for the time being. My apologies to your guests, but we don’t need any of your proxies down there stirring up trouble while lives are at risk.”

  “Absolutely,” Hylie said. “They’ll understand.”

  “Keep trying to raise the Ecolympus on the radio, and relay any news back to me if you can,” Jiyake said. “If you guys have footage of the crash, even if it’s just their initial descent, I’d like to review it, too. We might be able to learn something that will help with the rescue.”

  “I’ll have Quiss send it now.”

  “I better go start our pre-flight checks,” Muir said.

  Jiyake held out her hand. “Good luck. Be careful out there,” she said.

  “Yeah,” Muir said, shaking her hand. “I’ll see you in orbit over Olympus.”

  Jiyake started to leave and then stopped, turning back to face the resupply ship captain. “Muir?”

  “Yeah?”

  “The Ecolympus crew – they took good care of their ship, right?”

  “Sure,” Muir said, frowning. “The ship’s pretty new, but I’ve seen them doing hull maintenance. And Greban had them in dry dock for services just a couple months ago. Why?”

  “Just wondering what could have caused a top-of-the-line luxury liner to suddenly fall out of the sky,” Jiyake said.

  “I imagine we’ll find out,” Muir said.

  “Yeah. Keep your eyes peeled,” Jiyake said, and then disappeared down the docking tube.

  *

  “Crew’s mustered and at their stations, ma’am,” Chief Risley reported, greeting Jiyake as she entered the bridge. He was a short, barrel-chested man, with a bristling black mustache.

  Jiyake nodded. “Thanks, Chief.”

  According to her wristpad, it was now seventeen minutes after she had sent out the mobilization order. Several of the crew on the bridge were sweating and breathing hard – she guessed that a number of them had been asleep, while others had likely been spread out across Harrison’s Waypoint, conducting routine inspections and carrying out their administrative duties.

  Fifteen minutes was overly optimistic, she told herself. They did well to make it here as fast as they did.

  Jiyake picked up a wireless headset and slipped it on over her head, before taking a seat at her command station, overlooking the patrol ship’s crescent-shaped bridge. Through her ear-piece she heard snippets of radio chatter from the various ships docking at the deep-space station. She tapped a button on her armrest, and then cleared her throat.

  “The Ecolympus just crashed with seven souls aboard,” she told the crew, over the ship’s PA system. “The Liberty Belle’s headed to Olympus to try to effect a rescue, and we’re going to follow to provide support. I’m sure you have questions, but time is of the essence – we’ll do a more detailed briefing en route. For now, all departments, run final flight diagnostics and report status.”

  The bridge burst into noise – Jiyake tuned it out, letting her chief of the boat handle reports from the ship’s various departments. Instead, she switched channels on her microphone, and hailed space traffic control.

  “Harrison’s Control, this is CGS Extremis,” she said.

  “This is Control. We’re putting inbound traffic on hold to keep the lanes clear for your departure, Commander.”

  “I appreciate it,” Jiyake told them. She glanced out the forward windshield, and saw the Liberty Belle pull away from the station, its engines flaring briefly as it headed toward deep space. Farther down the line of parallel docking arms protruding from the station, a larger ship pulled away soon afterward.

  Who the hell is that? She frowned. That’s bad form, launching in the middle of a rescue op.

  “Ma’am?” a signalman asked. “I’ve got Captain Hylie on the line for you.”

  “Put her through,” Jiyake said. Let
’s hope she has good news for us.

  Chapter 11

  Falken opened his eyes, but the darkness still pressed in around him.

  I’m alive, at least. That’s something.

  He tried to move, but a firm, warm liquid resisted him – it took nearly ten seconds for him to bring his hand to his face. He felt something hard and smooth under his fingers, and realized it was the faceplate to his pod helmet. Falken pulled it off and gel rushed in, covering his nose and mouth. Falken gagged, choking. He flailed ineffectually in the liquid, and felt his arm brush against something hard. He grabbed it instinctively, and suddenly the gel slid away, draining rapidly out of the pod. He could see now – the unit’s lid was just above him, still wet from the gel that had filled the pod.

  Falken grunted and pushed against the lid, and it swung open. From the pod around him, the remaining gel dripped upward toward the room’s ceiling, and after a moment of gut-churning disorientation, he realized he was upside down, the pod hanging in the air from what had been the floor.

  Ship must have rolled when it hit. But it looks like the safety systems kicked in.

  He shook his head to clear it of any lingering confusion, and then reached for the straps to his harness.

  Christ. I haven’t felt this disoriented since waking up from my time on Oz.

  Falken lowered himself out of the pod and crossed the floor – formerly the room’s ceiling – to the next pod over. He fumbled with the pod’s latch and gel gushed out, pooling around his ankles. Inside, Ed hung from the machine’s harness, groaning.

  “You okay?” Falken asked, helping him climb down.

  “I think so,” Ed replied. His face was ashen. “Where are we? What happened?”

  Falken ignored him and continued on to the next pod, letting the gel drain out, before helping Raynard out of it. The journalist looked shaken, but relieved to see Falken.

  “I thought I was going to drown in there,” he said.

  “They’re designed to flood with gel in case of an emergency,” Falken said. “Keep you safe like a chick inside an egg. But they’re supposed to drain after a few seconds – something must have malfunctioned.”