Star Scavenger: The Complete Series Books 1-5

by G J Ogden

  “Admiral Shelby, this is Captain Hudson Powell of the Orion,” Hudson began, steeling himself for a fight. “I may not be an expert in the regulations surrounding new portal worlds,” he continued, unable to hide his disdain, “but I’m pretty sure that any system is considered neutral territory until the MP government makes an official declaration.”

  “Captain, let’s not mince words,” Shelby replied, after a brief delay. For an MP officer, Shelby was surprisingly swift to dispense with formalities. “You were spotted in formation with a hostile alien force. You have questions to answer, and I intend to get them. Remain where you are. If I must, I will further disable your already stricken vessel. It would be better – and safer – for you, if you simply complied with my directives.”

  Hudson shook his head. Shelby’s mind seemed set, but despite her threats, he wasn’t going to be pushed around. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Admiral,” Hudson hit back, forgetting for a moment just how much danger he was still in. “I was just running like hell to get away from whatever those alien ships were. Maybe you should go back there and find out, rather than harassing an honest relic hunter like me.”

  Hudson heard Admiral Shelby laugh derisively, presumably at the notion of an ‘honest relic hunter’. Then she delivered a succinct reply. “You claimed it was not hostile. You clearly know more than you are letting on, and I intend to find out what. Shelby out.”

  The channel to the MP Cruiser clicked off, and Hudson aimed an impassioned ‘up yours’ gesture at the console, before checking the cabin pressure. It had stabilized, and was steadily starting to creep upwards. However, it would still be a few minutes before the automatic seal on the cockpit door would release. And then he would still have to re-start the Orion’s drive systems before Shelby’s engineers could restore power to the cruiser.

  Hudson had done more re-starts than he cared to count, and he was pretty good at them. Even so, his record was just over twenty-two minutes – well short of Liberty’s best. He knew that the big cruisers, such as the one threatening him now, typically took longer. However, though he hated the self-satisfied arrogance of the Martian military, their confidence was not unjustified. Ultimately, which ship got their engines started first would be a close-run contest.

  Hudson rested back in the seat and closed his eyes. Until the cockpit fully pressurized again, who could restart the drive systems faster was a moot point, because at the moment he was going nowhere.

  The silence and calm in the cockpit were almost meditative, and Hudson felt himself starting to doze off. Suddenly, alarms shrieked out and the abrupt jolt of shock nearly knocked him out of his seat. His heart thudded in his chest, as he saw another damage warning light flash up. Then he checked the pressure and saw it was dropping again, this time rapidly. Looking over to the cracked window, he saw to his horror that the resin had failed. The crack was snaking wider, and there was nothing he could do about it.

  “Shit!” he cried out, scrambling to reach the pilot’s chair, where he’d left his helmet. However, he was already struggling to breathe and the sudden drop in oxygen level was causing him to become disorientated too. Hudson dropped to his knees in front of the pilot’s chair and grasped the helmet, before clumsily pulling it on. Struggling with the locking mechanism, he finally managed to secure the helmet over the collar. He waited, but there was no hiss of oxygen.

  “What the hell?” Hudson cried out, feeling the primal terror grip him fully. He stared over at the disaster pod, and realized that in his haste to put on the suit, he hadn’t connected the oxygen reservoirs. With his already oxygen-starved breaths becoming ever more frantic and labored, Hudson clambered across the deck towards the pod. But dizziness caused him to stumble and fall.

  I’m sorry, Liberty… Hudson thought, as he used what little strength he had left to roll onto his back. He knew he was finished. I really screwed this one up. I’m sorry…

  Hudson stared out at the MP cruiser, still visible through the cockpit glass. He wondered whether Shelby would try to save him, or if the Admiral would be content to let him suffocate and die. However, even if she did attempt a rescue, there was little chance that a shuttle could reach him before it was too late.

  It was fun while it lasted, thought Hudson, managing a feeble smile. If he was going to die, he was damned if his final thoughts would be as dark as the space enveloping him. I finally got to do something I care about. Then thoughts of Liberty pushed their way back into his mind. At least she’s still alive, he told himself, still fighting the darkness. She has a chance. If anyone can survive out in New Providence, it’s her.

  He continued to stare out into space while his breathing became shallower. Then the cruiser suddenly blinked out of view, as a black shadow swooped in between it and the Orion. He heard the communications system crackle on.

  “Hudson Powell entity, this is Morphus. Standby.” If Hudson had any air left in his lungs, he would have laughed out loud. Then he felt a hard thud against the hull, and the starlight vanished, as if the cockpit had just been shrouded in an enormous blanket. “Don’t worry, Hudson Powell entity,” he heard Morphus add. “I am coming.”

  CHAPTER 19

  There had only been a few occasions during Hudson’s career as a freelance pilot that he’d needed rescuing. And while floating helplessly in space was never a pleasant experience, he’d not felt truly in danger on those occasions. Certainly nothing on the scale of the near-death experience he’d just lived through.

  During his previous interstellar breakdowns, the life support systems had never failed, and he’d never been all that far from a helpful tug ship or a welcoming repair dock. He’d always felt safe piloting space ships, despite the narrow skin of metal and glass that separated him from the cold vacuum of space. However, now Hudson truly understood how dangerous space travel really was. He’d been lucky to make it past Admiral Shelby’s blockade alive. And had it not been for the truly extraordinary manner of his rescue, he would have surely perished on the Martian-side of the portal. Instead, he was alive and safe; at least for now.

  Morphus had descended on the Orion literally in the nick of time. However, unlike his chance intervention on the planet’s surface, this time Morphus had come to Hudson’s aid intentionally. The alien entity’s vessel, unlike all human-built craft, had not suffered any adverse effects from the portal transition. And, like Morphus itself, the ship had seemed to possess an ability to transform its shape. It was a far cry from the near fluid-like transitions that Morphus went through when switching between its many identities. Yet while it was a more mechanical process, the alien ship was still flexible and graceful enough to adapt to the shape of the Orion’s hull, and seal the breach.

  Not only this, but Morphus had then rapidly towed the Orion away from the portal, before Shelby’s cruiser had regained power. And, thanks to the Orion’s drive systems being offline, and Morphus shielding his energy signature, Shelby had been unable to track them. As such, their current location, hovering just above the surface inside the Stickney Crater on Phobos, was known to no-one but them.

  Even more remarkable than the nature of Hudson’s rescue, was the fact that Morphus had also managed to repair the Orion. It had taken just over a day, all in, and Hudson had slept for fully half of this time. However, when he woke up, he couldn’t believe the transformation. It would have taken a week in a repair dock to achieve what Morphus had done, alone and in the vacuum of space. Though as Hudson ran his hand along the newly-repaired cockpit glass, he realized that Morphus hadn’t just repaired the Orion – the entity had augmented it too. The glass was no longer glass at all, but some unique transparent alien compound that felt oddly warm to the touch. And all around the ship, he could see adaptations and reinforcements to the structural skeleton of the Orion, all made from the unique alien metal.

  “Your vessel is now operating at ninety-eight-point-seven percent efficiency,” said Morphus, causing Hudson to jolt around in surprise.

  “You sca
red the crap out of me,” said Hudson, pressing a hand to his chest. Then the puzzled look on Morphus’ face – currently that of a thirty-something female – made him feel the need to clarify. “Not literally, in case that’s why you’re making that face. It’s just an expression that means you took me by surprise.”

  “I apologize for causing your sudden release of glutamate and adrenalin,” said Morphus. This caused Hudson to raise a quizzical eyebrow, but Morphus went on, apparently unaware of Hudson’s confusion. “Are you satisfied with the repairs?”

  “Satisfied?” Hudson laughed. Then he spun around, looking at the cockpit of the VCX-110, which was like new. “It would have bankrupted me to get these repairs done at Deimos. I honestly don’t know how to thank you. For this, and for snatching me from the jaws of death.”

  “No display of gratitude is required,” replied Morphus. “It was necessary to augment some of your ship’s systems with technology from my vessel. But, since much of the technology contained in this ship is derived from the Revocaters, this was not a concern.”

  The mention of Revocaters reminded Hudson that he still knew little about this alien, and its history. And though he’d agreed to help Morphus retrieve the crystal, he was still keen to learn more about his new ally.

  “My presence here is to enquire if you were ready to continue our partnership,” Morphus added, filling the silence.

  “Almost…” replied Hudson, inviting Morphus to follow him along the connecting corridor from the cockpit to the living space. Hudson then shuffled onto the semicircular couch and patted it with the palm of his hand, encouraging Morphus to also sit. The alien obliged, then waited as Hudson set out a bottle of Ma’s whiskey on the table, along with two tumblers. He poured two measures, and slid one over to Morphus.

  “To you, for saving my ass,” Hudson said, raising his glass. “And to our successful partnership.” Hudson then necked his shot and slammed the glass down on the table.

  Morphus frowned at the tumbler on the bar, but then mimicked Hudson, throwing the contents back in one. Hudson expected the alien to display the same pained reaction that a human would do after experiencing Ma’s concoction for the first time. Yet Morphus seemed entirely unaffected.

  “I am detecting aldehydes, esters, ketones, fatty-acids, lactones, cellulose and thousands more curious chemical compounds,” said Morphus, slamming the glass down so hard it cracked and almost shattered. “The alcohol content of this beverage is extremely hazardous to human physiology. I do not recommend that you imbibe it.”

  Hudson poured himself another measure, “Cheers to you too,” he said, before taking a sip. This confused Morphus enough to allow Hudson to move on to the real reason he’d sat the entity down. Which was to get answers. “Before we set off again, I’d like to understand a bit more about this Goliath, and also who or what a Revocater is.”

  Morphus seemed to consider this for a moment, before answering. “To fully explain using your verbal language would require too much time,” Morphus began. “But there is a faster way for you to understand.”

  Hudson took another sip of his whiskey. “Does this ‘other way’ you mention involve grafting stuff to my skeleton?”

  “No.”

  Hudson laughed, “Well, that’s a relief!” he replied, before raising his glass again.

  “It requires me to insert an implant into your hippocampus.”

  Hudson spat a light spray of whiskey onto the table, and then coughed violently.

  “I warned you that imbibing this mixture is hazardous,” commented Morphus, coolly.

  “Hippocampus? You mean you want to stick something into my brain?” said Hudson, after regaining the ability to speak.

  “In essence, yes,” replied Morphus, “Though the procedure is not as dramatic as your emotional reaction suggests you think it will be.”

  “You don’t have to drill into my skull, or anything like that?” asked Hudson, starting to feel a little less panicky.

  “No.”

  “Or stick giant probes into my ears or any crazy shit like that?”

  “No crazy shit like that.”

  Hudson topped up his glass and immediately swallowed the contents. “Okay then, what the hell. I’m all for saving time. Let’s do it.”

  Morphus shuffled around the semicircular couch so that it was almost next to Hudson. For some reason, this made him feel uncomfortable, as if Morphus was a vampire about to feed on him. However, instead of sinking its teeth into Hudson’s neck, Morphus instead placed its hand there. Hudson felt a slight warmth and tingling sensation, and noticed that Morphus’ arm had become metallic, and was now smooth and featureless. A few seconds later, Morphus removed its hand, but remained by Hudson’s side.

  Hudson scowled, “I don’t feel any different,” he said, rubbing his neck. “Are you sure this worked…” He’d barely finished the sentence when his head was suddenly spinning like a whirlwind, as if he was drunk out of his mind. Then he blacked out completely. When he came to again, Morphus was holding the back of his head with one hand, while the other was pressed to his chest. The being released its hold once it was clear that Hudson had regained consciousness, and then shuffled around the opposite side of the couch again.

  “I don’t believe it…” said Hudson. His mind was no longer spinning, but it was fizzing with new knowledge. He understood everything, as if he’d always known. It was incredible, unsettling, and exhilarating in equal measure. He looked up at Morphus, suddenly comprehending the urgent need to recover the crystal. “We have to go. We have to find Griff, and get that crystal back.”

  “Yes,” replied Morphus. “But first we must travel to New Providence.”

  Hudson’s desire to find and rescue Liberty had not diminished, but his new comprehension of the threat Goliath posed was overwhelming him.

  “Is there time?” Hudson asked, hoping that the logical and analytical alien said ‘yes’.

  “I made an agreement and I will uphold the bargain,” Morphus replied, not exactly answering the question Hudson had asked. “Let us recover the corporeal entity named Liberty Devan. And then, together, we shall tackle Goliath.”

  CHAPTER 20

  Liberty had spent years living on her own, sometimes even on the streets. Her mother had left when she was thirteen – she’d simply walked out one day and never come back. Her father, on the other hand, was just one of the galaxy’s many unknowns. She’d learned to fend for herself. She’d learned to be tough and resilient. She’d learned to survive - because she’d had no choice.

  After her life on Earth, and her experience of the scavenger town on Brahms Three, she thought she was prepared for the worst the galaxy could throw at her. However, after only a couple of minutes on New Providence station, Liberty knew that she’d underestimated just how low the human race could sink.

  Liberty was not one to shock easily, but New Providence seemed to be home to every form of vice imaginable. Seemingly anything could be bought and sold, used and abused. And this was where Logan Griff had come to exact his revenge on her. Death would have been a greater kindness, Liberty realized. Yet, she’d survived this long, and she’d be damned if she was giving up now.

  Liberty was waiting in the main concourse of the station’s more salubrious Level Seven. Her hands were bound, she was gagged, and she was guarded by Tory Bellona. The mercenary’s hand had not left the grip of her revolver for even a second since stepping off the FS-31. No-one paid any attention to them, despite the fact that she was obviously being held against her will. This didn’t surprise Liberty in the slightest. In the ten minutes they’d been waiting, she’d seen men, women and even children in a worse condition than her, all ferried along the concourse like cattle.

  Griff and Cutler had gone ahead to set up a meeting with a member of the Council; an apparently very senior figure called Werner. During the flight from the new portal world, Liberty had overheard Cutler explain to Griff that Werner was a former relic hunter. Apparently, Cutler had done som
e underhand jobs for him in the past, and this had earned him an audience. It had also afforded them a certain level of protection on the station, not that Tory appeared to be taking any chances.

  However, while Griff and Cutler had acted exactly as Liberty expected, Tory Bellona had been subdued. The mercenary was usually a woman of few words, but even so, she hadn’t spoken at all during the trip. She had also been the only one to check on her well-being during the journey, allowing her bathroom breaks and some food and water. She'd even tended to her wounds. All these services were delivered wordlessly, despite Liberty’s attempts to engage with her. Though after the beating she’d received at the hands of Griff, her normally razor-sharp mind was dulled and slow. Her leg, while healing rapidly, was still also painful, though it could at least now take her weight fully.

  Liberty’s musings were interrupted by a group of three men, who walked up and started to look at her, as if she was a piece of meat, hanging In a butcher's shop window.

  “Now this is what I’m talking about,” the lead man said, joking and smiling to his companions. “A bit of class. Not like the gutter trash we usually get here.” The lead man was maybe six feet tall, rough shaven and had a Martian twang to his voice. However, his ankle length leather coat and tattooed hands suggested he’d abandoned the Martian culture’s more prim and proper sensibilities long ago.

  “Get lost,” said Tory. It had only been a few seconds, but she already appeared to be bored of their presence.

  The lead man scowled and then stood in front of Tory. Despite the man’s physical size, Tory’s eyes were almost level with him. “Oh, I was mistaken, boys,” the man said, cocking his head back to the other two, “the gutter trash is here after all.”

  There was barely a nanosecond delay between the man finishing his insult, and Tory swiftly kneeing him in the groin. He crumbled to the stained metal decking like a demolished tower block. One of the other men reached for a weapon, but Tory had already drawn her revolver, cocked it and shot the man at point blank range, before he’d even gotten his pistol out of the holster. The report of the ancient weapon jolted Liberty’s mind awake and, as the third man rushed at Tory, locking up with her like two warring bulls, she saw an opportunity to escape. Where she’d go, how she’d get free of the binders, and how she’d get off the station were all questions she had no answers to. However, she also knew that it could be her one opportunity to break free, and she wasn’t going to let it pass.