Voyages of the White Skull Book 1

by Jason Alan Jones

  On his way to the hospital, the admiral attempted to analyze everything in his head. He knew that the probes could only be sent to the UPG Headquarters. Unfortunately, there were many departments that could have secretly received it. He was upset at the fact that someone had gotten a hold of his security code, which allowed the probe to be sent.

  “Is there a fucking spy on my ship? I’ll have his ass hung on a yard arm!” he angrily yelled out loud.

  Three hours quickly pass as Admiral Scanlon waited back in the conference room. The doctor informed him it would take a little more time to perform his autopsy and that he would report to him as soon as he was finished. Commander Jain had reviewed Ensign Rivers’ personnel file, giving it to the admiral after he was finished with it. He was disappointed that there wasn’t much information in it. The admiral slapped the file shut just as both Captain Moore and the doctor entered the conference room.

  “Well?” the admiral asked, while leaning back in his chair. Both the doctor and the captain wore worried looks on their faces. “What have you come up with?”

  “Ensign Rivers was struck on the back of the head with a piece of wood, rendering him unconscious. I found a large lump in the back of his cranium. I believe the wood was wrapped with some thick fabric so that there would be no tearing of the skin. After he was knocked out, it appears that the same person purposely broke his neck, instantaneously killing him. There was no blood found on the body, there are no fingerprints, and no other evidence of any kind. I am sorry to say that there is nothing else I can find at this point. Furthermore, I performed a test on his blood, looking for drug abuse or anything else that may help us. He’s clean, no drug usage and no hints of brain washing,” reported the doctor.

  “A homicide on my ship. I want a full investigation, Captain. Leave no stone unturned. Is there anything else?”

  “The lieutenant took a bathroom break two minutes before the probe was sent. He must have purposely taken it so that someone could send a message. Otherwise, why would he have been killed? If he didn’t know who sent the message, why kill him. Whoever killed him didn’t want Rivers caving in,” the captain stated.

  “There is nothing in his file that would suggest he was anything other than a competent officer. The only notable piece of info in his file was that he was transferred to the Horizon by the UPG,” the commander added.

  “Shit…all right, Commander Jain, I want you to interview everyone working in the Command Bridge that night. Someone must have seen who it was that had been using the communications console. In the meantime, we should give the ensign a proper funeral service. I don’t want any of this leaking out to staff, and especially the civilians. Until further notice, we will say the cause of death was natural. Thank you, Doctor. If you will excuse me, I need to talk to the captain and commander for a minute. Thank you for your report,” stated the admiral.

  “I understand,” the doctor said, as he shut the door behind him. Without anyone seeing him, before leaving, the doctor waited, having an odd look on his face, and with narrowed eyes.

  “I want you two to alert all of your security personnel that we have a possible spy somewhere on this ship. As of right now, we are at code red. If we can’t find the person who sent the message soon, we are going to check all suspicious activity of the entire staff on the Horizon. So, find me that man, Captain, because this is a pain in my ass. There are thousands of crew aboard this ship, and something else tragic may happen before we find anything,” the admiral ordered. “Dismissed.”

  “Yes, sir!” answered both men. The captain and commander looked at each other with wide eyes as they left the admiral alone in the conference room. Admiral Scanlon sat in the room and leaned back in the chair he was sitting in. He blankly stared at the table in front of him as his heart raced. He decided that he would strangle the man who murdered another crew member aboard his ship. He greatly despised traitors and desperately wanted to know why another probe was sent to the UPG Headquarters.

  “What message was sent, and why?” he angrily whispered to himself. The admiral wasn’t looking forward to what may lay ahead. Many tedious steps would have to take place in order to find out what was going on aboard his ship. “Fuck,” he said. Being so far out in space, and having little communication with the UPG, he was concerned about someone further sabotaging their mission, or sabotaging the Horizon. He hoped they would find the answers before it was too late. The thought of anything horrific happening to the seventy thousand men, women, and children under his protection sent a chill up his spine. The admiral knew that in the meantime, he would have to continue on their mission of finding a habitable planet. The admiral couldn’t stand being in the conference room any longer, so he walked out to his command chair and sat in it. He rested his right elbow on his armrest and rested his chin on his fist.

  “Pilot, take us away from the planet and resume our previous heading. Full speed ahead,” the admiral ordered.

  “Aye, Aye, Admiral, resuming on the heading at full speed!”

  Chapter 3

  "It never got weird enough for me."

  Hunter S. Thompson

  Jesse woke from his bed, drenched in sweat. He pulled his feet over the side of his bed, rested his elbows on his knees, and put his hands over his eyes. His eyes burned from the drugs, which were making him exhausted. Jesse debated whether he should get up or lay back down. His thoughts drifted to the beautiful woman who occupied his cargo bay. It had been five days since he had first seen the woman, and the image of her burned deep into his mind and soul. He found that it was a bit difficult to sleep, knowing that he was smuggling a human being for whatever reason that he currently wasn’t aware of. It was against his nature. Jesse thought to himself that even though he was a pirate, he must surely have some morals. Slowly, she was becoming a drug that he couldn’t get enough of, an addiction that his body craved. He compared looking at her as if he was looking at a priceless treasure in a museum guarded by a thousand heavily armed guards, an elaborate alarm system, and you would still feel deeply compelled to steal a look at it.

  He had already given Luis the coordinates of where he would drop the obelisk off. Luckily, he didn’t suspect anything. As the days had gone on, Jesse was trying to convince himself of the reasons why he should just close the object up and forget about the woman who innocently stood frozen.

  “Why not keep it open for a while longer? It couldn’t hurt anything,” he said, trying to convince himself that it was okay to leave it open. The coordinates he had given Luis were four weeks away from his current position. He picked a place he knew quite well called the Trading Post. The Trading Post used to be his favorite hangout, until he and Monica had broken up. Jesse hadn’t gone back there for a little over a year. The Rusty Bucket was the name of a large bar that he and his friends would get drunk in, and exchange stories until they would pass out.

  The Trading Post was a massive space station where you can buy, sell, or trade almost anything, including drugs, weapons, women, and most definitely a wide assortment of the finest black market goods available. Many walks of life infested the innards of the large space station. It was a dreadfully dirty, grim place, harboring murderers, thieves, smugglers, pirates, and an occasional religious nut. Although the Rusty Bucket was in the Trading Post, only a select group were permitted in. It was a private bar, reserved only for the most feared men and women in the solar system. It was an excellent establishment to find work or make illegal deals. Jesse loved it because the food was outstanding and the women were vigorous. It was where the space pirate had first met Monica. That was the main reason he hadn’t returned for so very long. He heard that Monica still conducted a lot of business there.

  The only problem with the Trading Post was that if you were new, it wasn’t a good idea to get to drunk too quickly—at least until you became a little more suitably known. There have been many occasions when newcomers had disappeared and found themselves as an involuntary volunteer on an interstellar pirate shi
p—the kind of ship that wasn’t due to return for a very long time. Jesse was one month away from the Trading Post and decided not to worry about running into Monica until he arrived near the Trading Post. Nemtox 8 was only two weeks away from his current course heading. It would be an easy drop off since all he had to do was…drop it off. In the meantime, he headed to the Blue Neon Space Station. It was an excellent place to load up on supplies and have work done on a spaceship, including upgrades to weapon systems and so forth. Not to mention, the owner of the Blue Neon was his very dear long-time friend, and his best drug connection. Jesse was running low on painkillers and needed to restock before the withdrawal symptoms kicked in, like headaches and sweating.

  Jesse also decided to see if he could purchase some workout equipment. He longed to get back in shape, especially after he saw the beauty of the frozen women. Even though she would probably never see him, he still wanted to feel better about himself and how he looked. His name and reputation were legendary, and he was feared by the most ruthless of people in the solar system, but he preferred to look the part as well. He strapped on his nickel-plated guns and headed up to his flight room. Before making it to his flight room, he stopped to take a quick peek at the woman. Seeing her exotic beauty re-energized him, causing the blood to stir in his body, making him feel more alive. While sitting comfortably, Jesse called on his ship’s computer.

  “B.I., calculate how long it will take us before we reach the Blue Neon,” Jesse instructed his ship. The ship came up with the calculation, “Twelve hours and ten minutes,” he read out loud. In the meantime, he decided to get something to eat, so he made his way down to his galley, which was located under the cargo bay. Jesse had heard a rumor that the last owner of this ship had his own gourmet chief. It was an elegant galley that had two large silver refrigerators, three large sinks, and two metal tables located in the center. Above the tables were large assortments of cooking utensils, which he never used. He had a food materializer installed when he bought the Black Ice. Connected to the food materializer there was a matter disintegrator. So, all he had to do was press a button, get his food, and when he was finished, just throw the plate into the disintegrator. A most desired lazy man’s machine. The only thing in the refrigerator was beer, liquor, and a couple of sodas. He was a huge fan of Coca-Cola and knew its history quite well. The fact that Coca-Cola had used real cocaine in its original recipe in the 1800’s intrigued him. He tried putting cocaine in some Coca-Cola a few times and was satisfied by the results. It didn’t affect him too strongly, but he was jazzed that he had drunk some Coca-Cola with cocaine. That was how he was introduced to cocaine. A gypsy friend of his got him to try his first lines of cocaine a few years back. Jesse liked it too much and found that it was very hard to quit. Once in a while, he would do a couple of lines of coke, if he was at a gathering with his friends. He figured it was best to stick to his pills. He liked how the pills lasted longer, since cocaine’s effects were very short lived, and no matter how much he did, its euphoria wasn’t the same.

  Jesse pressed the salad button on the materializer, then opened the slot and took out his salad. He sat on one of the galley tabletops. After he was finished, he went back to the flight room to wait out the rest of the trip. Jesse crouched down on the deck of the flight room and tried to make an attempt at some pushups. He managed to do nine and a half, then collapsed on the deck, panting.

  “Damn, I’m out of shape,” he said. Jesse’s heart was almost beating out of his chest. He made a mental note to do pushups more often. He knew that if he could start working out, he would stick with it. It was just hard to force himself to start up again. He wanted to be known as the White Skull…who was sexy. He laughed to himself at that thought.

  While daydreaming, Jesse thought back to his days aboard the starship Hell Fire with Captain Barakat. He kind of missed his old captain. He missed how they would talk for hours about the ancient legendary pirates and their origins. Captain Barakat was a descendant of the legendary Black Beard and had taught Jesse a great many things about pirates that he never knew. Jesse was amazed to learn that pirates had been around for over three thousand years and that some of the first pirates dated back to ancient Greece. He never knew that the word pirate came from the Greek word, peirates, which means attacker. Captain Barakat had even told the young space pirate the great Julius Caesar was once captured by pirates when he was young, and before he became emperor of Rome. Barakat told him of what was known as the Golden Age of Piracy and how, at one point, thousands of pirates sailed the seas. Most of all, Jesse loved learning about the most famous pirates, like Black Beard, Calico Jack, Henry Morgan, Admiral Kidd, Long Ben, Black Bart, and Captain Barakat. Jesse’s name, the White Skull, had also been added to the long list of legendary Pirates.

  Several hours later he could see the Blue Neon slowly growing larger through his flight window. The station resembled a large black donut with a long black cylinder in the center. Half the cylinder was the owner’s apartment, and the other half consisted of a command center and some escape pods. Dark blue neon was decorated around the space station in the form of letters and in lighting. A large array of ships and cargo vessels entered and exited the Blue Neon, as well as occupying the surrounding area. As Jesse flew in closer, he could see some men in spacesuits working on a section of the space station. Sparks gleamed as the workers cut at the thick hull of the Blue Neon. The owner’s name was Haseeb, an Arabian man who Jesse was great friends with. Haseeb was also one of Elijah’s top men and a dear friend. A few years back, when Jesse had shown Haseeb the classic movie Lawrence of Arabia, he immediately started wearing white ancient Arabian robes. He even went as far as wearing a curved sword, grew a handlebar mustache and a long beard braided with gold string. Haseeb loved Jesse like a brother, especially since he had saved his life from a bounty hunter a couple years ago. Jesse thought that Haseeb looked as if he had jumped straight out of the pages of the Arabian Nights.

  Haseeb was happy with his changed appearance, and no one ever made fun of his clothing, since he was notably crazy. Haseeb took loyalty seriously and would cut someone’s hand off if they stole from him. Jesse laughed to himself, remembering that the last time he was on the Blue Neon, he saw at least ten men missing their left hand. Jesse noticed that the closer he gets to the space station, the bigger the path the other ships left for his ship. Everyone recognized his ship. It was the most unique ship in the solar system. As he approached the station, the control center contacted him, “Welcome, White Skull, it is an honor to have you back on our station. You may dock in hanger bay six. I’ll tell Haseeb you’re here.”

  “Thank you, Control, it’s good to be back among friends,” Jesse replied. Before docking, Jesse headed toward his cargo bay to check on the obelisk. The buttons were still blinking green. He placed a tarp over the obelisk, covering up the woman. After making sure the cargo hatch was locked, he typed in his security code on a small black box. Jesse didn’t want anyone poking around in his ship, especially in his cargo hold. Haseeb’s men were, for the most part, trustworthy, but he didn’t want to take any chances. Someone on the station would contact Elijah anyway to tell him that Jesse was on the Blue Neon. Elijah had many informants on almost every space station. It was a network of spies who didn’t know each other. Jesse also knew Elijah would be probing for anything out of the ordinary with Jesse’s actions, or with his cargo. Jesse smoothly docked his ship in hanger bay six, and the large hanger bay door sealed behind him, bringing oxygen into the room. His landing gear placed his ship low to the deck, making it easy for him to get out. He opened his hatch and jumped down to the dark deck. Jesse was in an immense hanger bay, one that he had been in many times. He could see others spread out, getting out of their ships as well. Always cautious, he was ready to draw his guns, just in case anyone challenged him. It had happened on more than one occasion. As Jesse stepped to a safe location, he watched as his ship, which was resting on a large conveyer belt, began to move forward. Jesse walke
d over to a red grease-covered intercom, which was placed on a wall near the hatch. The hatch, which was highly guarded by guns, was positioned above his head. The hatch led to the Blue Neon’s marketplace. He pressed a button on the dirty box and said, “This is the White Skull requesting that my ship be routed to Don’s Hanger for repairs,”

  “All right, White Skull, we will route your ship to Don’s Hanger. You may enter the marketplace. Welcome back, White Skull. It is an honor to have you in our space station,” a voice replied.

  “Thank you, the honor is mine,” Jesse said.

  Jesse’s ship began to move forward on a conveyor belt as another hanger door opened, leading to his requested location. After his ship disappeared, he began to walk through a long corridor that led to the marketplace. He first had to pass through four different guarded hatches to reach it. As he approached the last hatch, he saw through the window a bulky figure waiting for him. The hatch opened.

  “Jesse, my old friend, how are you?” Haseeb yelled. Haseeb was a round, stocky man, who almost squeezed the life out of Jesse as he gave him a strong hug.

  “Fine, how have you been?” Jesse asked, feeling pain in his ribs.

  “Wonderful, I am becoming richer every day. Elijah lets me run my station as I see fit, providing I send him his very large sum of credits every month. You know, he is becoming more and more powerful every year. He may just take over the UPG someday, could you imagine that?” Haseeb laughed out loud. He continued, “How come you don’t work for him? He is always trying to sway me to ask you to join his organization.” Jesse couldn’t take his eyes off his friends’ turban. Jesse held himself back from bowing before Haseeb in jest, but he didn’t want to piss him off.