by M. D. Cooper
Space Team
Cal Carver is having a bad day. Imprisoned and forced to share a cell with a cannibalistic serial killer, Cal thinks things can't possibly get any worse.
He is wrong.
It’s not until two-thirds of the human race is wiped out and Cal is abducted by aliens that his day really starts to go downhill.
Whisked across the galaxy, Cal is thrown into a team of some of the sector's most notorious villains and scumbags. Their mission should be simple enough, but as one screw-up leads to another, they find themselves in a frantic battle to save an entire alien civilization - and its god - from total annihilation.
Buy it now: http://smarturl.it/pvkwmg
Want to know the story with the mysterious old woman and the animal vac pack? Check out the companion short story, ‘Nun Shall Pass,’ in The Expanding Universe Volume 2.
About the Author
Barry J. Hutchison is a multi award-winning author from the Highlands of Scotland, and a lifelong fan of things going ‘boom’ in outer space, while laughing in the face of conventional physics. He lives halfway up a mountain with his wife, two children, and infuriatingly enthusiastic dog, and when he isn’t writing books, comics or screenplays, he can usually be found hiking through the hills, completely and utterly lost. Often while crying.
Become a member of ‘Team Space Team’ by joining Barry’s newsletter, and receive regular updates about new titles, as well as Space Team: The Holiday Special completely free.
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Social Links
Find Barry on:
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He also occasionally blogs at barryjhutchison.com
Spaceberg
by M. Pax
Spaceberg arrives without warning. The size of Jupiter, it smashes moons and sucks starships into its deadly mass.
Nikili Echols of Orbital Rescue Squad 51 is the most decorated first responder in the Solar System. Naturally, she's first on the scene. But even as she battles one disaster after another--saving people, starships, and entire worlds--Spaceberg proves to be more than one woman can handle. She's losing ground.
The likes of spaceberg has never been encountered before, and it moves toward the inner Solar System with the inexorable surety of a Monday morning. With time running out Nikili is forced to team up with her ex husband in order to rescue their daughter and to save what remains humanity and its home system.
That is, if it can be saved.
Chapter 1
Captain Khaled Castillo glared at the yellow warning light. It wouldn’t shut off. Sometimes the holographic alerts projected throughout the ship were a godsend. Sometimes they were a pain in the patooka.
“What did you hit?” he asked his ship; a hauler with the name Harene. The artificial intelligence managing the hauler had the same name, Harene. There was no real difference between an AI and the ship it managed.
Checking over the walls for immediate threats, Khaled pushed off his bunk. His quarters was only two feet larger than the two bunks stacked on top of each other. He hunched to clear the doorway, his dark hand cushioning the top of the doorframe in case his head bumped against it. His unruly curls brushed against his fingers, and he hustled the seven steps to the alcove housing his hauler’s flight control.
“Impact. Panel 13B, starboard,” Harene answered.
Khaled stopped in flight control, reading reports on the gel glass monitor about the status of the hauler.
Harene’s robotic voice had a slight lilt from a bygone dialect of a bygone era. No one had occupied the colonies on Haumea in two decades. Settling the dwarf planet had been a necessary jump in humankind’s spread into the outer solar system, but Haumea had been quickly abandoned for Makemake and Eris once several engineered ‘stars’ were ignited to light up the Kuiper Belt. The new ring of mini stars marking the boundary between the inner and outer solar system shone bright in a literal sense, and as a great achievement of engineering. Despite the pride every human ought to feel, Innlings found the new stars annoying and demanded shields be added to dim them.
Khaled thought it stupid. Light was life. At least in this solar system. There was another solar system, not so far away, with a dead star and no light except from neighboring systems. Rumors from exploration crews whispered at ravenous beings feeding on the darkness. Khaled refused to think about it. Boogie stories had no place on the Stellar Way, nor off it on untraveled flight paths either.
In the claustrophobic confines of flight control, he banged a fist against the control pliable glass monitor. The fit of violence did nothing to coax Harene to reply with a better answer. Harene needed an overhaul, an illegal one. Maybe the cargo Khaled had picked up on Serenity Sol Station—an artificial world orbiting the artificial sun, Z’ha’dum—would allow for the expensive upgrade.
“What made the impact?” he asked, wishing for the twelve billionth time the Council of Human Occupied Planets (CHOP) hadn’t ruled to hobble AIs. For one, Harene would be a better companion. For two, it’d quit playing dumb to his questions.
Shaped like a propeller—a disc with three paddle-shaped protrusions—his hauler had left Serenity Sol Station two days ago. He was headed toward Orcus for a brief stop before continuing to Makemake. Only three hours from orbit, he itched to begin landing procedures. There was a pretty gal he liked at the main settlement on Orcus, and he had enough scratch to buy her a drink. Two if he didn’t buy one for himself.
Flight control emptied into the living space, a mostly sky-blue room, twelve foot by twelve foot. Khaled barreled through it and fifteen projections of the yellow beacon alerting him to minor hull damage. Harene excelled at overkill. He rushed into cargo bay three and wove through the stacks of crates to examine the affected sector. No loss of integrity was visible from the inside.
“Complete view of panel 13B, starboard, please, Harene.”
The ship wall faded to translucent, revealing what harm had been done outside. A jagged shard of glass, ice, or maybe it was a crystal, jutted like an extra rudder. That it hadn’t sliced Khaled’s hauler in two was miraculous.
He peered closer, his nose grazing against the wall. “What is it?”
“I require a more precise inquiry, Captain Castillo.”
“Must we be so formal? We’ve been cohabiting for three years.”
Harene was Khaled’s newest hauler, yet it wasn’t new. He wished he could afford a human navigator, but he acquired crap no one else wanted on the slim hope someone would pay him for it.
Profit had been miniscule so far. However, his latest cargo was special. It came from Earth. He had purchased the crates unopened, which saved him a freighter-sized chunk of currency, and the seller had moved it onto Harene at no extra cost; a major bonus when profit margins were as slim as Khaled’s. Despite the constant gnaw of curiosity, he hadn’t dared to open a crate. If it was crap, he’d make more profit selling it the way he had bought it. He leaned against the closest stack, savoring the aroma of plastic. If it contained plastic from Earth, he’d be rich enough to attract twelve wives. Only, he wasn’t ready for a wife yet.
“Harene, whip around hard and fast port side.” Khaled gripped onto a hold molded into the composite of nanites from which his hauler had been constructed. Harene angled sharply, picking up velocity. The piece of space trash held fast.
Khaled sighed. “Do I have to go out there?”
The yellow beacon deepened, bordering on orange.
“Harene? Update.”
“Environment is compromised. Hull composition compromised.”
“What?” Khaled swiped at a gel glass panel set into the nanite composite wall. Xylomannan, an antifreeze integral to hull integrity, was being depleted. “The space rock is doing this?”
“Unknown.”
“I have to cut it
loose.” Khaled marched to the locker beside the airlock and shrugged into his spacesuit. “Check seals on my suit and send a distress call to Orbital Rescue.”
“Seals are at one hundred percent, Captain Castillo. Message sent to ORS.”
He clicked on the helmet and trudged into the hatch, sealing the inner door behind him. He hitched himself to the shortest tether, and a holographic bar displayed how depressurization of the airlock progressed. The holographic icon flashed blue when he could safely open the outer door. He swiped over a small patch on his wrist to trigger the latch release. The door slid upward. “Wish me luck.”
“I cannot wish, Captain Castillo. It is against CHOP regulations.”
If Khaled couldn’t afford the illegal upgrade soon, he’d go mad. Built-in thrusters across the back of the suit went off, gently propelling him out of the hauler. The tether jerked him back against the ship when he reached the rope’s limit. He deployed the magnets in his suit and stuck himself fast to the hull before he bounced away. One jerk on the tether line was enough. The bruising would last for a week.
He adjusted the hold strength of his mag boots and switched off the magnets in his suit. Tromping as if he walked through a pool filled with hardening gum, he made his way toward the piece of debris protruding from his hauler. After seven steps, he had to rest to keep perspiration and his breathing under control. Sweating too much would make him cold. Stressing his vitals and passing out would make the situation worse.
“Remind me I need to work out more regularly when this crisis is over, Harene.” He didn’t have any extra flesh, but he could do with improving his endurance.
“How frequently would you like the reminder, Captain Castillo?”
“Twice a day will do.” Any more than that, and his AI would push him over the edge. It was so close already.
Another ten steps and he reached his goal. The Harene wasn’t a huge vessel: three large cargo holds that could be converted to other uses when not holding freight, engineering, flight control, a small living space, and two bunk rooms made up the ship. To make it as efficient as possible, he could flip gravity on the hauler. His exercise equipment was on the ceiling of the living space. He’d have to quit being lazy about reversing gravitational orientation.
He ran his gloved hand along the jagged edge of the space trash. As ragged as it was, he’d guess it had broken off something bigger. He activated the scanner on his glove, bathing the object in electronic inquiries. The answer scrolled across the faceplate of his helmet. Ice.
“Water ice, Harene?” There were myriad types of ice, including water ice.
“Correct, Captain Castillo.”
His eyebrows rose. “Pure water ice? What type?”
“Type one, Captain Castillo.”
“What’s the best price? Where?” Pure water ice was a rare commodity in the solar system. “I’m about to become very, very rich.” A grin spread his gaunt cheeks.
“The current best market for water is the space station Ylla, between Makemake and Eris. Last currency transaction, five hundred thousand rations per kiloton.”
“How big is this chunk?”
“Calculations based on drag put it at two point five kilotons.”
“Huckamucka!” His girl on Orcus could bathe in cocktails; maybe she’d agree to be his navigator. “Deploy bots to ready cargo hold three for our icy guest.”
“Cargo three contains crates obtained on Serenity Sol Station.”
“I know. Move the crates out of there.”
“Cargo holds one and two are filled to maximum.”
“Move the boxes to the living space and bunk room two then.”
“Order given, Captain Castillo.”
“Send a bot out here with a loader and mining equipment.”
Moments later, a bot joined Khaled on the hull. Together, they spun through space, the bot more aware of the surrounding stars than Khaled. His full attention never wavered from the slab of ice. He drilled a series of holes with a plasma drill then used a blade to saw off a good chunk. A few pieces drifted free.
“Bot, retrieve fragments.”
The little droid zipped off, vacuuming up the stray bits of ice. It dumped them in the enclosed loader with the bigger chunks. When the loader was full, the bot tugged it inside cargo hold three then returned. It and Khaled repeated the process until the entire chunk was inside the ship.
He knelt and examined the hull, running his gloved fingers over the rip. “It’s not a very deep gouge. Why was the ice so stuck?”
“I do not understand the question, Captain Castillo.”
Of course Harene didn’t. Khaled wanted to kick it. “How was the ice stuck to the hull?” He turned on the scanner in the palm of his glove and ran it over the dent.
Harene displayed the results on his faceplate. Teensy rows of deeper pits lined the gouge. “What made those marks?” he asked.
“Unknown.”
“Best guess.”
“Bite marks.”
His chuckle grew into a belly full of laughter. If the helmet had allowed it, Khaled would have thrown his head back. Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes and he gripped at his stomach to calm himself. “Ice… ice doesn’t have tee…” His humor broke free for a solid two minutes. “…Teeth.”
“Agreed, Captain Castillo.”
Thank the suns for small favors. He stood and started back toward the airlock. “Bot, repair the hull. Estimated time?”
“Twenty-two minutes, nine point twelve seconds.”
“Thank you, Harene.”
He sealed the airlock and waited for the chamber to repressurize. Through the tiny view panel, the orange alert continued to flash. Khaled frowned. “Report on hull integrity, Harene.”
“Xylomannan levels dangerously low.”
Frost began to form on the composite walls. Khaled left his spacesuit and helmet on when exiting the airlock. “What’s going on?” He glanced at the hatch to cargo bay three. “Report on payload in bay three.”
“The ice is melting, Captain Castillo. Bay temperature thirty-one point nine degrees Fahrenheit and rising.”
The hair on his neck rose, tempting him to remove his helmet and rub away the chill, but he didn’t dare. He stopped in front of the door and inhaled deeply. “Open bay three, Harene.”
The seals around the door hissed as they depressurized. Water seeped out, surrounding Khaled’s boots. It instantly froze. He took a step back. The door slid upward. More water spilled. This time Khaled stood his ground.
The two plus kilotons of ice gleamed, valuable jewels that would end Khaled’s days of stressing over air rations. Off the mound of ice tumbled green mossy balls, each the size of his fist. The creature closest to Khaled snaked out a foot, much like a snail but faster, and glided to the toe of his boot. It yawned, showing a mouth of tiny, jagged teeth. Other balls of moss slithered out of the ice.
Khaled groped for the wall. “Seal… reseal the hatch, Harene. Now!” He reeled about and sprinted. The space boots kept him clumsy. He fell into the crates stacked in bunk room two. Crawling over them, he kicked at the hatch control. “Lock bunk two.”
Huddling in the corner behind a wall of crates, he could hear them, whatever they were, teeth on nanite composite. The little buggers were eating his ship. Did they want the ship, or did they eat it to get to him? Khaled couldn’t swallow. “How long until ORS arrives?”
Chapter 2
“It’s Christmas, Lucy,” Nikili Echols sang, and slapped her partner on the back. The Huey didn’t need her once it was set to respond to a distress call, yet she rechecked the distress call and the Huey’s flight path.
Her squad chief had once told her the rescue ships were called Hueys as an ode to ancient rescue operations on Earth. Why Earth needed more homage was beyond Nikili. Earth was the worst attention whore in the Sol.
“Okay, you’ve told me it’s a joke, but I still don’t understand it.” Lucy Ashida’s complexion was three shades darker than Nikili’s.
She swiped a delicate finger over the edge of the gel glass panel spanning in front of their seats. Everything about Lucy had the delicacy of a dark, exotic princess. Of what nation was hard to define. Nations and borders didn’t exist in the Outer Sol. Those were Innling issues. Lucy brought up the file about the distress call.
Nikili’s features were lighter and rounder than Lucy’s; not as refined. People dubbed Nikili as cute. “It’s from a primitive, I mean positively primitive, Earthan science fiction movie. According to their stymied imaginations, we’re beyond science fiction.” She examined the call details for the forty-ninth time and gathered her long, ebony tresses with a smart tie. On the visor of her cap, codes popped up in violet. She flicked at the number twelve. The smart tie lengthened and twisted her hair into a secure knot.
“Hull integrity issue. Says the hauler is losing antifreeze.” Nikili tugged at her thick lower lip. “What would cause a loss of antifreeze? Isn’t it built into the nanites?” The nanites on the Huey had antifreeze so innate to the composition of spacecraft, it wasn’t anything to which she had given a thought. How would the lack of xylomannan interfere with rescuing Captain Castillo? Nikili didn’t want to run into something for which she wasn’t prepared. She pulled up an archive on nanite and hull composition. It mentioned the xylomannan was part of the nanites like pigment was to her skin. “This makes no sense.”
“Maybe we should consult the salvager on call.” Lucy’s hair was the same shade of night as Nikili’s, and her wild curls had been unnaturally tamed into a lumpy cascade.
Nikili flicked at one of Lucy’s curls, heavily weighted with a substance she couldn’t identify. “What did you use on your hair?”
Lucy slapped Nikili’s hand away. “Let me be.” Her round, inky eyes crinkled into slits. “Hook Raeder’s on call, isn’t he?”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“You keep track of your ex better than a stalker.”