“As you wish, Miss Lyydraal. I am a Star Jumper-Class vessel, model number seven, four, nine, nine, eight, two, six, designation Ess Cee Ess eight, one, nine, zero, one, five.”
SCS stood for Seryys Civilian Ship, the number represented it’s registry in order of receiving it, meaning that there were 819,014 ships commissioned before this ship. Some were still in commission; some were lost in space or classified as decommissioned for one reason or another. But it was cold, hard reminder that there were almost a million civilian ships out there either doing what they were doing or perishing.
“The Star Jumpers came out less than a year ago!” Stryyk said. “They’re the highest high-end civilian ships on the market! This thing will practically fly itself! It’s even more sophisticated the Lance-Class Dreadnaught the Navy uses!”
“Actually, it can fly itself,” Lyyn said. “But it doesn’t have the instinct of a living pilot. It can evaluate a situation and mathematically choose one of several options based on percentages, but it has no gut feeling.”
“So this is what we’re flying!” Char said, sitting down in the other seat. “Incredible! Not even the AC I used to pilot was this sophisticated!”
“She’s quite a ship,” Lyyn said with pride.
Two hours later, Lyyn had to practically drag them both out of the bridge so the engineer could continue prepping the ship. As it turned out, the engineer’s name was Bav’Haar Baar, a tall, slender girl no older than twenty, with blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, gray eyes that showed intelligence beyond her apparent age, and hardened facial features. The AI was named after her. When she shook hands with Stryyk, she had hard, callused hands with a very, very firm grip.
After another hour of getting to know the chief engineer, Lyyn escorted them back the hangar, blindfolded them and took home. Half way home, the blindfolds were removed.
“You’re engineer seems to know her stuff,” Stryyk said.
“She’s a child prodigy,” Lyyn replied, “barely eighteen years old and smarter than ninety percent of current engineers in the Seryys Navy.”
“How’d you guys score such a find?” Stryyk asked.
Lyyn’s face saddened deeply. “Her parents were killed when their ship collided with another, vying for position over a star system that was discovered by two ships within minutes of each other. When they collided, they both sent out distress signals. Her parents stuffed her into a sensor probe where she waited for three days for pick up. By the time they got to her, her parents were dead along with the rest of the crew. She survived in the airtight seal of the probe.”
“Oh my,” Char said, covering her mouth with her hand. “That’s horrible.”
“I was able to adopt her before she was drafted into mandatory service,” Lyyn said.
“How older were you guys when this all went down?” Stryyk asked.
“I was twenty, she was twelve.”
“Wow,” Char said, clearly impressed. “That’s a really kind thing you did there.”
“I know,” Lyyn said. “Given up a majority of my prime life raising a kid only eight years younger than me. But it was worth every day.”
“Nobel deeds are rewarded by the Founders,” Char said, repeating the mantra from years of learning about the Founders of Seryys from grade school on.
“I agree,” Lyyn said. “And she’s perfect for this mission. You should see the car she built when she was fourteen.”
“She built a car?” Char asked astounded. “When she was fourteen?”
“From the hoverpads up,” Lyyn beamed with pride.
“Wow,” Stryyk said, clearly impressed.
The car hovered up to their front door and door swung open. “I will contact you next week with you work schedule. Master Ryyg will be your combat instructor. He has mastered three forms of deadly arts, along with most civilian and military firearms. You’ll be in good hands.
“Now enjoy your freedom while it lasts, things are going to very, very busy in the coming months before launch. Good day.”
With that, Char and Stryyk exited the car and it sped off.
“Well,” Char said expectantly. “We have twenty thousand credits to blow, where do we start?”
“I think we should spend a weekend at one of the resorts on Seryys Three,” Char said. “I’ve heard it’s quite beautiful this time of year.”
“Let’s go right now!”
“Right now?” Char asked.
“When was the last time we did anything spontaneous?” Stryyk asked.
“It’s been over—”
“A year,” Stryyk finished. “I know. Pack your bags!”
They rushed to the lift, rode it up to their meager apartment, packed their bags, called for a taxi, took the taxi the nearest space port, and booked a flight to Seryys III. They shivered with excitement as they waited in line to board the ship. Once in their seats, they snuggled into one another. The flight administration went over the safety features of the vessel and emergency procedures, then the pilot came on and gave them an overview of their flight.
The ship thrummed to life and lifted off the ground on its hoverpads. It then angled upward towards the sky. It broke the atmosphere, and the clear blue skies gave way to the black emptiness of space. There were small ships zipping about just at the fringe of the upper atmosphere, and larger ships all lining up, waiting for their clearance to make the jump to black space and whatever destination lay beyond.
The pilot came over the PA and announced that their wait for clearance was forty five minutes. That was not unusual with thousands of ships arriving and departing daily—and all military craft got precedence above all other vessels. The flight control specialists were highly sought after and were paid more than most doctors on Seryys. It even paid more than being the Prime Minister of Seryys—minus the perks, of course. However, there were only a handful of people alive with the gift of the mental capacity that was required to track over two hundred ships at a time, and even with that gift it still took twelve years of schooling and rigorous training to learn all the minute nuances of controlling the airspace around Seryys. What looked like a complete and utter chaos of networks—intercrossing lines of flight paths both atmospheric and orbital, dozens of blossoming, pulsing waypoints for jump points to and from black space every ten seconds or so—were only a fraction of the things they had to track. To any normal Seryysan looked like a carefully choreographed dance to a finely composed, orchestrated, and expertly performed piece of music to a flight control specialist.
All pilots-in-training were required by law as part of their licensure to spend two days in a Flight Control Center, or FCC, to see the wonder for themselves. If they thought being a pilot was hard, they quickly realized that they had it easy and that their jobs merely paled in comparison. Both Stryyk and Char knew that all too well.
After the wait, the ship lurched forward as it was sucked into a black hole. Even to that day, Stryyk’s stomach always turned in that moment just before emerging on the other side of black space. But in an instant it was over, and they were in orbit around Seryys III. From their view port, they spotted the blue disk in space as it spun slowly below them. Occasionally a small patch of green, brown, and gold would come into view. One of those patches was their destination. It was an island called Hideaway. It was roughly five miles in diameter and boasted two of the nicest resorts in the Seryys System.
As they dropped down in the airspace above the island, they spotted the large tanker ships that would drop down into the water, open their large bellies, and drink up hundreds of thousands of gallons of water at a time, then lift off the water and take it to places in the Seryys System that did not have water readily available, such as Seryys IV, which was a desert planet with little or no water, depending on the time of year.
The water on Seryys III was clear and fresh. It was so clean, thanks to the bacteria and algae that lived on the bottom of the oceans and reefs, that one could drink it straight from the source without any repercussio
ns. An entire planet of water could supply water to nearly a dozen planets or colonies without. There were dangers, of course. Taking on that much water, in some cases, created too much weight in the cargo hold and made it tough for the ships to lift off.
In the early days, there had also been the possibility of local sea life getting sucked in. There were wild stories of Maal Sharks—named for the scientist who discovered them and being the top predators on Seryys III, they were lumbering sea beasts up to fifty feet long, with primary and secondary dorsal fins, two pectoral fins, a large caudal fin off the tail, dark blue skin with green spots and, of course, a mouthful of razor sharp teeth—thrashing about so violently that they ruptured hulls, or ate unsuspecting workers as they worked to release the water into basins for storage wherever it was brought.
It didn’t take long for the Seryys Combat Engineers to develop a filter that kept local fauna out of the tanks. There was a time when Stryyk wanted to pilot of one of those gigantic barges, but opted for something closer to home.
The ship touched down at the space port and the passengers debarked. They caught a ride to the hotel where they were staying and checked in. The next place they went was the beach. Stryyk had always been enamored by his wife in a swimsuit. He just stared at her splashing in the water for several minutes before finally joining her. That night they dined on the beach and were waited on hand and foot for everything they needed. At the end of the day, they turned in early because they had a big ahead of them.
Early in the next morning, they rented a motor boat to take a ride. The locals raved about a spot just ten miles out where a small, volcanic island less than a mile in diameter sat. On this island was some of the best diving on Seryys III. Their bellhop was able to point it out on map, and they programed it into their micro-comps. The other unique feature of this particular island was a fruit that was exclusive to that island. They called it snowroot, named for its flower that looked distinctly like a snowflake. The root was the coveted part, though. It would go for five hundred credits an ounce, as it was only found in one spot: that island. Though the volcano was dormant and regulated, the geothermal activity created the perfect condition for these flowers to grow. It also caused the water surrounding the island to be about ten to fifteen degrees warmer than the water out to sea. It was full of lush flora and fauna, but got too warm for the likes of larger predators that preferred the colder waters of the open ocean. The root was a delicacy, and few ever got to eat one that was fresh. They lost their flavor a couple of days after being picked. They grew out through cracks in the rocks on east cliff side of the island and along the rocky reef starting where the cliff and the reef met.
They pulled their boat ashore and sat on the beach for several hours, relishing the cool morning breeze blowing over their sweaty bodies as they made love. When they were spent, Stryyk returned to the boat to get their lunch and some champagne.
He sat back down on the blanket, popped the cork, poured two glasses, handed one to Char and held his up. “Here’s to a bright future exploring the stars!”
“And here’s to doing it with my best friend,” Char added, holding up glass to clank against Stryyks. They ate lunch, finished their glasses of wine, and packed up.
“Let’s go get dessert!” Stryyk said. “Meet me on the other side of the island.”
“What’re you going to do?” Char asked, her brow furrowing.
“Just something I’ve always wanted to do,” Stryyk answered cryptically.
“You’re going to jump, aren’t you?”
“You better believe it!” Stryyk said.
“Three hundred feet down!” He whistled like a bomb dropping.
“Well, you’d better start hiking now,” Char said. “I’ll be there long before you.”
“Don’t get in without me!” Stryyk warned playfully.
“Then move your ass!” Char said with big, playful smile.
“Yes, ma’am!” Stryyk said with a mock salute.
He started running west up the mountain, while Char pushed the boat into the water, hopped in, and started driving around the side the island. As Char predicted, she beat Stryyk there. About five minutes later, she saw his small form appear at the top of the cliff.
“Char!” he shouted. “You ready for this?”
“No!” she answered honestly. That was an awful long drop.
“Tough!” he shouted back.
With a couple steps back, he got a running start and leapt from the edge without hesitation. The free-fall caused his stomach lurch as he dropped down toward the water below. The water came rushing up to him and when he hit, the warm water enveloped him in a deafening roar of bubbles and splashing.
Eventually, the roar died down and it was only the serenity the underwater world. Small fish zipped about and larger fish swayed with the tide. Another splash broke silence and Stryyk saw Char join him in the water. Together they came up for air.
“You ready?” Stryyk asked. “We gotta go down pretty deep.”
“I’d follow you anywhere!” Char said.
“Let’s go!” Stryyk responded. “Deep breath!”
They each took a deep breath and dived down into the eighty-degree water. They had to dive down about twenty feet to reef below to find any snowroot. At that depth, they found thousands of the flowers. It looked like snow covering the reef. Stryyk reached out and grabbed one by the root, right where it met the rock. It was the stuff under the rock that was most desirable. Gently, he pulled on it, and the whole thing came out, including the six inches of root that was in the rock.
One of the things that Stryyk had forgotten to tell Char was that the rock in which these flower grew was called razor rock for reason. She reached down and grabbed the base of the flower and cut a deep gash in the side of her palm on the rock. She jerked her hand back and yelped. She started for the surface and Stryyk followed. They broke the surface together and swam over to the boat.
Stryyk helped his wife up onto the boat and climbed up after her.
She was shaking her hand and hissing through her teeth.
“Let me see it,” he said, gently taking her hand. “I think you’ll live, but we’ll need to take these fingers.” He indicated her middle, ring and pinky fingers.
“Seriously?” she asked, her mouth agape.
“Yeah, the bacteria can kill you,” he said calmly, fishing through the pack for a knife. “We need to remove those fingers before the infection spreads!”
“By the Founders!” she gasped. “You can’t cut my fingers off!”
“What choice do I have?” Stryyk asked, holding out the filet knife normally used to gut fish.
“You ready?”
“No,” she said, her voice shaking.
“Good,” Stryyk said with a boyish grin.
“Good?” she asked, clearly confused.
“I’m not taking your fingers!” he laughed.
“I can’t believe you fell for that!”
“Oh you!” she said, slapping him repeatedly with her good hand while he covered up to protect himself from the barrage that was not intended to do any real harm. He laughed the whole time.
“You jerk!”
“What?” Stryyk asked. “I was just having a little fun!”
“At my expense!” she retorted.
“Whatever! Remember the time you had me convinced that you were in jail for striking a superior officer? Remember how freaked out I was?”
“Yeah,” she said with a chuckle. “It’s still funny. I can remember the look on your face when you realized that I pulled a fast one on you.”
“See? Now come here and let me take care of that.” Stryyk wrapped it in gauze and taped it up. “There. Now why don’t you just stay here and I’ll go get us a couple more. Okay?”
“Okay,” she said, leaning back on the reclining chair and putting her good hand behind her head.
“I’ll be right back!” Stryyk said and dived into the water straight down to the reef below.
&
nbsp; As the tide softly rocked the boat, Char’s eyelid grew heavy. Every now and then, a small wave would lap up about the hull creating a clapping sound. She had dozed off when she heard a loud thump against the side of the boat. At first, she thought it was Stryyk coming back with more snowroot.
“So how many did you get?”
Nothing.
“Stryyk?” she sat up and looked around. He was nowhere to be seen, but there were several flowers on the floor of the boat. It appeared that Stryyk had made several trips down to the reef so far. Maybe it was just a big wave, she thought and sat back down. Just as she realized that she had bled through the bandages, another thump came from the other side. This time, she felt it through the floor. Immediately, she jumped to her feet and looked about frantically. That’s when she saw it: a large dorsal fin cutting through the water like a knife.
“Oh no!” she gasped.
As she watched the shark circle the boat, there was yet another thump! She rushed to the other side and second dorsal fin broke the surface of the water. Stryyk was in trouble!
He was on his fourth trip back down to the reef; he was inwardly smiling to himself as he caught his wife dozing on the boat. He was going to make one more trip down. He hit the reef, pulled out two more flowers, turned to face the boat and saw two huge sharks circling it.
Shit! Stryyk thought. His minded raced. He quickly swam to the cliff face and tried to find a way to climb up. With it being low tide the algae on the rocks went up further that he could reach, and he couldn’t get a firm grip on any holds. He ducked down into water again and surveyed the area. The sharks were still circling the boat. It was really unusual to see these big predators in such warm and shallow waters. Their massive bodies dictated that they needed deeper waters for hunting. From the depth of their current location they wouldn’t be able to get enough speed to mount a successful attack from below, which was their preferred method.
It must have been the blood! The realization struck him. They must have smelled Char’s blood in the water and come in for an easy meal on a wounded animal. He thought about his next move. He couldn’t go up, so he had to get to the boat. He came up for air and heard Char screaming his name.
Maiden Voyage (The Seryys Chronicles) Page 3