Wrath of the Carnelians (Europa)

by Jason Gehlert

  “Yeah, no problem.”

  “Thank you Lieutenant.”

  “Stay close to me Son, and I will protect you until we reach New Earth,” Wilkes said. He walked over the medical supplies to Logan.

  “I appreciate that.” Logan began prepping Dr. Drake for the operation.

  “Lieutenant,” Tommy’s voice chattered over the ear piece.

  “Yeah, what’s up? Is it time for departure?”

  “Yes. Donny has joined the band. All members accounted for.”

  “Excellent, I’ll be right there.” Wilkes separated from Logan and re-entered the corridor. “Logan, meet us in the cockpit ASAP,” Wilkes shouted back to the medic, while turning the corner.

  Sammy, Tommy, and Donny gathered inside the roomy cockpit and ushered towards their respective seats.

  “Okay,” Wilkes said, entering the cockpit’s confines. “What’s the set-up?”

  “I fly the ship from the Captain Kirk chair over there,” Tommy pointed to the rather large chair in the center of the cockpit. “It’s all touch sensitive.” Tommy studied the room staring at their glances as his edgy statement made them curl their mouths in attempted laughter. “Okay, bad choice of words.”

  “We sit over here?” Sammy asked pointing to the long benches that circled around the Captain’s chair.

  “Buckle in there, tight and firm, and prepare for liftoff. Once we are in the air, we will need to gather our things and then step inside the pods for the duration of the mission.” Tommy made his about the room.

  “Pods?” Donny asked.

  “Yeah, they will keep our vitals stabilized for our four-year journey,” Wilkes added while he sat down next to Sammy.

  “I see,” Donny buckled in tight, strapping the belt across his lap, clicking it firmly in the lock’s mechanism.

  “Do one final call for anybody still in the base,” Wilkes said, while he watched as Logan and pick out a seat on the other end of the bench.

  “Strap in good boys.” Wilkes patted Sammy on the shoulder. “Sammy, are you ready for this?”

  “I’m wetting myself just thinking about it,” Sammy replied.

  “Where’s Kennison?” Wilkes whirled his head around the room.

  “He’s in with the other trash,” Tommy said, approaching his own chair. He then prepared to announce the final boarding call.

  Another vicious round of explosions from above fractured the stability of the underground base.

  “We don’t have a lot of time with the rebels running rampant on the ice above. Generate liftoff right now Tommy,” Wilkes ordered his pilot.

  “Yes sir,” Tommy swung around in the chair and pulled out his purple scarf.

  Tommy’s hand graced over the touch pad and closed the ramp doors and ignited the engines. “Donny, if you would be so kind and do the honors.” Tommy readied the spaceship for immediate take-off.

  Donny withdrew a small remote control from his pocket and pressed the green button, raising the docking bay’s doors, exposing a well-lit underground runway that would eventually break through the wake of the frigid Antarctic Ocean above.

  Journey To New Earth

  The Athena began her maiden journey down the well-lit runway. The black tiles zoomed by in a frenetic pace. Everyone embraced the adventure looming ahead.

  Lieutenant Wilkes sucked in his face trying to hold back the gathering speed of the craft. The Athena’s lurching speeds had the slick military man twirling his tongue about in delirium.

  “The good doctor is strapped in well?” Wilkes asked Logan.

  “Tighter than a drum Sir,” Logan responded.

  “We are moments away from breaking the ice Sir,” Tommy called out as he guided the craft further down the runway.

  “Man, what a rush,” Donny talked up a conversation with Sammy.

  “Yeah, what a rush,” Sammy repeated the statement. “This is what I live for.”

  The ceiling finally receded to ice, leaving the craft submerged beneath the frigid ocean.

  Several of the remaining survivors gathered across the frozen ocean, watching the enormous shadow zooming by underneath.

  Riley, who hours before had shot Senator Perry dead, led his fractured team across the icy water. “Hurry,” he yelled, reaching for his weapon. “We have to board that ship at all costs!” Riley penetrated the thick ice with an array of bullets, shattering ice fragments all over the place. Suffering from the frigid conditions had left his morality defunct and eroded to the point of valid concern. His collection of ragtag survivors operated at all costs, even if that meant consorting with their previous enemies for a chance at freedom. “You lost it Riley,” one of his staunchest supporters questioned Riley’s spotty leadership.

  “Perhaps,” Riley chattered, slipping out one cartridge and sliding in another one with seamless precision. Another array of ice splinters flew about, scattering about the icy surface. Riley managed to gain an advantage on the craft below. “But, it feels so damn great.” Riley kicked through a chunk of ice, sending the frozen mass splashing below. “There she is,” Riley called out. “Come on boys, we’re hitching a ride.”

  “Where? On the wing?” Davis shouted.

  “I’ll find a way in.” Riley thrust his body high in the air, entering the water with a freakish splash. He worked his way down through the water and latched onto the outer shell of the Athena’s hull. His fingers quickly succumbed to the frigid temperature, sticking to the ship’s metal frame. Riley grimaced, but he eventually found one of the silos that housed the spacecraft’s weapons.

  Davis followed suit, but misjudged the calculation of his jump. Davis landed hard on the tail end of the craft, several feet behind Riley’s position. The cold water wrapped herself around the unsuspecting survivor, choking away his warmth with her frigid fingers. “Riley!” Davis shouted for his leader. No answer. Davis clung onto the idle thrusters, waiting for his chance. His feet dangled behind him, resembling a sperm trying to penetrate the egg.

  Riley made his move, but without consequence. His left hand became frozen to the ship’s outer shell, limiting his range of movement. Squinting his eyes, Riley enveloped one last breath as he ripped away from the craft, severing several of his fingers.

  Davis could see a thin trail of blood floating in the water. Davis then shifted his attention to a series of dismembered fingers that were still attached to the skin of the craft. But, no visible sign of Riley.

  One by one the rest of the survivors approached the ice shelf where Riley and Davis had dived in

  “Are we ready?” Tommy asked the crew. “One, two, three,” Tommy counted down as the nose of the Athena burst through the thick ice, and breaking through the atmosphere above. Tommy’s fingers worked over the engine button, igniting the thrusters.

  Davis’s eyes widened once he heard the rumbling of the thrusters warming up. “Fuck me,” he muttered as the thrusters’ raw power coursed over his entire body, incinerating Davis instantly.

  Some of the careless survivors raced to attach themselves to the departing craft, like leeches on an infected patient. As Athena ascended towards the atmospheric layers, members of the survivor camp fatally lost their grips, screaming to their icy deaths below. Their bodies splattering about like a water balloon on a concrete sidewalk.

  “We are moments from entering the space frontier,” Tommy lectured to the group.

  “Easy Captain Kirk,” Sammy taunted the fly boy.

  “You gotta love his hair,” Tommy replied. “I’d like to,” his sentence was broken in half by another one of Sammy’s comments.

  “Calm down crouching tiger,” Sammy’s timing perfectly interrupted Tommy’s endless description of the iconic science fiction actor, who’s body was frozen in a Star Trek exhibit in New York City’s Museum of Modern Art.

  “We will continue to embark until we reach Mars, then we will initiate the stasis portion of our flight,” Tommy spoke in a Shatner-esque voice while he conversed the plan with the rest of the crew.
r />   “When do we engage hyperdrive?” Lieutenant Wilkes asked.

  “Well, it takes four years to reach Europa,” Tommy replied. “We will activate stasis once we reach Mars, and enjoy a quiet trip to Europa, where we will assess the information.”

  “But, aren’t we headed to New Earth?” Wilkes prodded the pilot.

  “Yeah, but the route we need to take travels past Europa. Once there, we will again embark on yet another lengthy journey to our new home.”

  “It all sounds like a Star Trek episode,” Sammy said with a smirk.

  “It does, doesn’t it?” Tommy grazed his fingers over the LCD pad on the panel and watched as the automatic pilot light illuminated in a greenish hue. “Alright everyone, let’s stretch our legs before our well deserved hibernation.”

  The crew cautiously unlocked their belts and started milling about the cabin.

  “Don’t worry, the cabin pressure and gravitational force have been equalized. We will not be floating about in mid-air,” Tommy sanctioned the crew to follow him down the corridor . “The late Commander had a last-minute change added to the craft’s layout.”

  “Which was what?” Wilkes followed closely behind Tommy.

  Sammy, Logan, and Donny picked up their meandering pace.

  “First, we’ll check on the good old doctor.” Wilkes broke off from the group and stepped inside the medical bay.

  “I need to finish the procedure,” Logan said, walking by Wilkes. Logan’s brisk pace had brought him to his patient a step quicker than the Lieutenant.

  Laying before the crew members was the encased medical tube that held Drake’s body within. The medical structure resembled a coffin, but ironically kept the patient alive through supplemental oxygen.

  “Did the procedure work?” Wilkes asked referring to the U.S. Government’s latest medical breakthrough.

  “It should be almost finished.” Logan gazed over the comatose doctor, taking in a deep breath, releasing the latches on the protective tomb. A whispering of mist escaped from within, pouring over the crew members. Logan bent over to take a closer look, the upper half of his torso enveloped within the misty fog.

  “Is everything legit?” Wilkes demanded an answer from the young doctor.

  “Pretty much,” Logan turned around and looked over the crew. “The Swarm procedure was a giant success.”

  “How can you tell?” Sammy questioned Logan.

  “See for yourself,” Logan said, waving over the members.

  Each pair of eyes scanned over the docile Nolan Drake, taking in the doctor’s new pair of legs.

  “Nolan here also has the benefit of the Swarm’s ultimate regenerative capabilities.” Logan took Drake’s pulse, placing two fingers on the doctor’s neck.

  “His internal injuries, if any, also have been healed,” Wilkes interjected with his own wisdom.

  “How do you know that?” Sammy poised the question, impressed by Wilkes’s startling intelligence in the field of science.

  “I paid attention in class,” Wilkes cracked back.

  “He’s still in a medically induced haze.” Logan released his fingers from Drake’s neck. “His pulse is strong and we should see him up and around in no time.”

  “Will Drake have to re-educate himself all over again on how to walk?” Tommy conjectured.

  “The Swarm rebuilds the network between the severed limbs and the brain,” Logan said. “So, my fingers and toes crossed, hopefully his learning curve is shortened.”

  “Drake’s vitals are stable?” Wilkes addressed Logan. “Sometimes they seem stable, but can erode quickly.”

  “Yeah, he’s good. He needs continued rest. I’ll check on him in about an hour.”

  “So, what’s this new addition that Commander Gordon installed?” Donny spoke up from the rear of the group.

  “I’m glad you asked.” Wilkes grinned while he anxiously waved everyone out of the medical bay urging them to follow him down the corridor. “Tommy will you do the honors?” He motioned him to take the lead.

  “Commander Gordon was a big pool junkie,” Tommy began the lengthy detour highlighting the late Commander’s habits and hobbies. Tommy resembled that of a dainty tour guide leading a bunch of school kids on a zoo trip. “And, he watched “The Hustler” four hundred and seven times.”

  “Hey, Chatty Kathy, let’s move it along,” Sammy urged the tour guide to expedite the process.

  “So,” Tommy reached the desired room and placed his hand on the inside wall. With a quick flick, he lit up the expansive game room complete with a pool table in the center. Arcade machines, some dating back to the early 2000’s circled the room, and a expanded 120” Plasma television stretched across the back wall.

  “Hey, I brought some Johnny Cash,” Wilkes drooled over the screen. “Let’s shoot a few some rounds of billiards, listen to the Man in Black and get drunk.”

  “And, that’s why he’s in charge.” Tommy applauded the Lieutenant’s game face.

  “I’ll be right back with the party supplies.” Wilkes tapped Donny on the shoulder. “Come on and help me out.”

  “Yeah, sure thing Sir.” Donny grinned, following Wilkes outside to the corridor.

  “Rack em up!” Sammy and Logan circled the table like a pack of hungry sharks.

  “Oh yeah,” Tommy fingered the controls to the ancient Atari game Pole Position. “My great-grandfather had this system. I found it one day stuffed in the attic, with all the original cartridges.”

  “Shit Tommy, talk about ancient.” Sammy pulled the triangle across the fifteen colored balls.

  “Eight-ball?” Logan asked.

  “It’s your funeral Doc,” Sammy urged Logan to make the decision.

  “We’ll see,” Logan debated the issue. “I’ve always liked the Pac-Man series myself,” he added to the lively conversation.

  “I must have missed out on all the fun.” Sammy released the triangle and looked down at the tightly bonded balls. “I’ll even let you serve,” Sammy relinquished the cue stick to Logan. “I was an Xbox 360 New Generation guy all the way.”

  “Oh, and Jackal? That game kicked some serious ass,” Tommy rebutted.

  “I’ll even let you go first,” Sammy conceded his turn to the younger doctor.

  “I appreciate your generosity,” Logan said with a quick turn of a smile.

  Within a matter of moments, Wilkes and Donny returned with some beer, chips, and Johnny Cash’s classic ‘Live at Folsom Prison’ concert.

  “Are we ready?” Wilkes asked, waving around the vintage DVD. “This is what music should be and ought to be.” Wilkes walked over and prepared the plasma screen for the Man In Black.

  Donny prepared the drinks and handed out generous samples of Sam Adams and Budweiser, urging the team to relax a bit and enjoy themselves.

  “So, were your parents fans of the Cash fandom?” Donny sipped down the frothy beginnings to his Samuel Adams Cherry Wheat.

  “Yeah, my grandfather was a huge fan. We even visited Cash’s hometown.” Wilkes searched the screen for the play feature. “I am so ancient when it comes to DVD players and the like. I mean,” Wilkes interrupted his own speech to reach out for the drink from Donny. “Thanks. Like I was saying, I can shoot someone dead in their tracks and diffuse a bomb. But, when it comes to programming my television, cell phone, or anything that has technology in the title, I’m totally fucking lost.” Wilkes finished off the lengthy sentence with a strong gulp of the beer.

  Logan surrounded the expensive cherry pine pool table eager to devour his prey as a shark would in the open waters.

  Sammy also circled about in a cocky manner, quietly drinking from his own glass of dour alcohol. Logan’s simply rested on the edge of the table, slightly right of the far corner pocket.

  “Are you almost ready Minnesota?” Sammy asked Logan, referencing the character from the ‘Hustler’.

  Logan stretched out across the far end of the table, rolling the white cue ball over the smooth green felt until it
rested atop the pre-printed black dot. Stifling the cue tip with the powdered blue square, Logan prepared his opening shot. His eyes narrowed, focusing on the tightened triangle of balls on the other end of the table. He placed the cue stick between his left thumb and index finger. His right hand gripped the stick with professional attention. With a quickened release, Logan sent the cue ball barreling against the triangle scattering the balls across the table. Logan’s initial turn had landed three of the fifteen balls.

  “Lucky shot,” Sammy said finishing off his beer.

  “I suggest you sit down for awhile,” Logan remarked, sporting a grin.

  “I don’t respond well to threats,” Sammy chided him back. Sammy was busting balls, he enjoyed the frantic conversation.

  “I’ll be stripes,” Logan said while he endured another seamless turn, sending two more of his colors in the side pockets.

  “I guess you were right.” Sammy indeed did take a seat while he watched Logan expertly maneuvered his way through the battlefield of balls on the table. After a few minutes, only Sammy’s untouched solids and the black eight had remained strewn about the table.

  “Which pocket?” Logan attempted to decide where he was going to execute his winning shot.

  “I don’t care.” Sammy swirled about his empty glass. “Hey bartender, over here!” He called out to Donny.

  “I’ll let you pick the pocket.” Logan stood back and surveyed the table as Sammy made the crucial decision.

  “That’s suicide. You want me to pick my poison?”

  “I’m trying to be fair, that’s all.” Logan again bristled the edge of his cue stick with the blue chalk dust.

  “If you were being fair, you would’ve missed a few shots there.” Sammy poked at Logan.

  “Which pocket?” Logan again asked the question.

  Sammy looked over the table. “The right corner pocket.”

  “Any reason why?”

  “Yeah it’s the shortest distance,” Sammy offered his reasoning.

  “And that’s a challenge?” Logan queried while bent over preparing his shot.

  “You’ll see.” Sammy hoped his prediction would prevail.