Surviving The Theseus

by Randy Noble

  Surviving The Theseus

  Randy Noble

  Copyright 2010 Randy Noble

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Chapter 1

  Regina Valensky walked down a wide, open corridor, watching people excitedly go about their vacations. Her mind slipped back and forth on why she picked, of all vacation spots she could have picked, a space cruise ship called Pyramid One.

  The cheese factor was not without its charm, but it became too much, too gaudy, too "in your face." Bright neon, spot, and laser light flashed all around her, from the various businesses touting their bounty, whether food, souvenirs, or gambling.

  She caught a few guys checking her out, which brought a smile to her face as they walked by her. Regina never went on vacation, and the only reason glowing lights surrounded her now was because her superiors forced her to take vacation. Not because she built up too many days off, but because her peers were getting picked off at an alarming rate.

  Regina was a Search Out and Destroy officer, a SOAD or killer, murderer, widow maker. Take your pick. She had heard them all and worse, much worse.

  As much as she distrusted just about everyone, she needed to be around people, to study them, their mannerisms, interactions, and idiosyncrasies, which made everyone so unique and so damn hard to understand. But understand she must, or die she would. Hunting the worst of the worst took understanding others so she could blend in, become what she needed to be to get closer to her goal: the kill.

  But, Regina was not on Pyramid for business, just forced pleasure. She looked for a place to go eat and have a drink, walked by Pyramid Burgers, The Pyramid Palace, King Tut’s, and kept going, one after the other of restaurants and bars with some sort of reference to the cruise vessel. Each restaurant's flashy façade, adorned with a gold ten-foot pyramid for an entrance, or a golden likeness of King Tut, or the Sphinx.

  Finally, near the end of restaurants, she found a lounge called The Club, which had a large golf club decorating the entrance. She stopped, her black running shoes squeaking on the black and white tiles, and then walked inside.

  Inside the bar, Regina was transported back in time, back to the sports bars of old, where televisions of varying sizes were hung all over the bar showing golf, football, baseball, hockey, basketball. All the sporting events shown were from the past as well. She walked by several pool tables, video games, and then towards the bar. The bar was an island of stools, glasses, and liquor bottles. Regina sat down.

  After ordering a steak, baked potato, and a beer, she found a booth, sitting back to relax for awhile.

  “Hello, Miss,” came a voice beside Regina.

  Regina looked up to see a short, thin man in his forties. The first thing she noticed was his nose, because of a large bump on the middle of it. “Hello?” she said.

  “Sorry to bother you, but I was hoping you might let me buy you a drink,” said the man, standing in front of her, his eyes on her breasts.

  Regina tried making eye contact, because it said so much to her, but his eyes on her breasts said even more. “I don’t think so.”

  The man sat down across from her. “My name is Roy.”

  Regina scrunched her face in a bemused fashion, a slight smile on her face. She couldn’t believe the audacity of the man. “Look . . . Roy, I really just want to be by myself.” A strange vibe emanated from Roy. The guy just felt wrong.

  Regardless of what she was doing, she always carried her weapon. She was used to wearing it in a holster around her shoulders, but didn’t want strange looks from people if she wore her trench coat. Instead, she hid the gun in a holster on her leg. She would rather have a large bulge around her calf, instead of the inevitable questions she got wearing a trench coat in the middle of a space ship. She figured she wouldn't need it with this guy, probably just some perv.

  “A beautiful woman like yourself shouldn’t be all alone,” Roy said.

  “Nice one, Roy. Cheesy, but nice. Look, really, I’m trying to be nice about it, but you really need to go away now. I won’t ask again.”

  Roy stared at her, silently for a few seconds, and then he stood up. “Sorry to bother you. I had to try.”

  Several beer bottles or glasses smashed, from behind Regina. She turned to look, watching as a waitress scrambled to catch her tray as it toppled over with the rest of the glasses still on it. They crashed to the ground. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” the waitress said, as a young, male patron shrugged his shoulders innocently. Regina lost interest and turned back around. Roy was gone.

  Regina finished her beer, and had one more with the intention of going back to her room, but she didn't remember going back to her room, or where she put her gun that was in the holster on her leg, or anything after that second beer.

  Chapter 2

  A small, diamond shaped ship with a blue-steel shine sped through the black void of space, chasing another ship just like it. Behind them were three more, close in pursuit.

  “Are they stupid, or is it just me?” asked Cindy Everette.

  “They’re stupid all right,” replied Michael Steen, steering the ship chasing the one in the lead.

  The cockpit seated four, and a rear holding area fit eight, but Cindy and Michael were the only two on their ship.

  Both Cindy and Michael were strapped in with shoulder harnesses, Michael with one hand on a large joystick-like yoke controlling the ship, and his other hand on a small, gray handle controlling his speed. Both the yoke and the throttle were holographic controls; the only way they became tangible was with the black gloves he wore. The gloves were covered in small, clear beads.

  Cindy checked a three dimensional navigational screen, scanning the area of space within the vicinity. She also wore the same type of black gloves.

  Cindy looked up as the runner took a hard left. Michael had no problem following every movement the runner ship took -- every twist and turn no match for Michael’s experience as a pilot.

  All the other ships followed suit, giving Michael a slight lead.

  “I betcha anything they’re kids, and probably SPARS kids,” Cindy said. SPARS meaning Space Patrol and Rescue Squad. What Cindy and Michael were and their buddies behind them.

  Another left.

  It baffled Michael how anybody could think they could lose you in space. There was nowhere to hide. “You’re probably right. Although, it wouldn’t be hard for someone to find out how to access one of our ships, including the controls. It’s posted all over the Universal Network.”

  Michael, young at twenty-eight to have the SPARS rank that most don’t see until they are at least thirty-five, pissed off other SPARS, or at least those that didn't know him. They thought of him as an ass kisser, but all it took was a crapload of time on duty and dedication. He commanded a 1D ranking, just three positions away from the highest rank of 1A. There were four number one rankings, from 1A to 1D, standing for Alpha, Bravo, Charlie, and Delta. From there, rankings went up in number, from 2 to 10, but only number one had the sub-rankings.

  A voice spoke up in Michael’s ear, his leader, George Pratt. “Mike, are you gonna just follow him around all night, or take some fucking initiative? Do something soon, or I’ll pull out in front of you.”

  He didn't actually know what he was waiting for. Bored and nothing better to do. They had all been c
ooped up for days, running the same drills over and over again, getting ready for security on the Planetary Games. This was their real first chance to get out and let loose. Well, most of the others wouldn't call it that, but Michael would.

  All of the SPARS wore the same gear, including what looked like a pair of round-rimmed glasses, speakers in the handles, a microphone in the front band, communication controls activated by voice, vision control for normal vision and infrared, and a camera, too small to see, recording everything.

  “The boss man has spoken,” Michael said to Cindy, even though he knew she got the same message.

  George spoke up again. “Ahh, Mike, I can still hear you.”

  Michael smiled, knowing George heard him as he was well aware of the eight-second delay after no one spoke, before the communication channel cut off and would have to be re-initiated. A “Comm Off” command would have cut off communication immediately, but George never gave it.

  The runner pulled up and over them. Michael followed.

  The chase offered so little challenge that Michael looked down at his olive green cargo pants and shirt fatigues, making sure there were no food stains.

  “Let's give these guys a Flat Fanny,” Michael said.

  “You got it, boss man,” Cindy said, the lowest ranked person in the group, at a 9, but stronger than others with higher ranks, by Michael's standards.

  Cindy touched a floating icon of a gun on the navigation screen. A weapons information screen came up, with two options: short range and long range. Cindy touched short range. Now the screen displayed a three dimensional, rotating image that looked like a flat bullet, with a listing of five classes beside it, from Class A to Class E. Cindy clicked on Class C.

  After Cindy selected the class, a radar-like screen popped up, showing all of the SPARS ships and the runner. She touched the runner, and a confirmation message popped up: Target acquired. What area do you want to target? The words hovered above the panel in her three dimensional display. Several options popped onto the screen next and Cindy picked Engines. A final confirmation came up: Locked and loaded. Fire? YES NO

  Cindy chose Yes.

  “Class C Flat Fanny on its way,” Cindy said.

  Michael continued to match every move the runner made.

  Chapter 3

  Regina woke the next morning, still clothed in the jeans and white t-shirt from the night before. Twelve hours went by and she had no memory of the events that passed.

  Showering took some of the fog away, and fresh clothes. She knew she didn't get pissed on two beers so Roy was her only suspect at the moment. Attempt at a failed date rape. He definitely never got under her clothes, but her skin crawled nonetheless at the thought of it. So what the hell happened?

  When Regina stepped out into the hallway from her room, not a person was stirring, not even a ship's employee anywhere. No noise. Deathly quiet. It was odd. Very odd. Since she boarded the vessel two days before, it had always bustled. Always. No matter the time.

  Regina walked cautiously down a long corridor on the fourth passenger level. The only sign of any activity, strange as it was to see, were piles and piles of clothing strewn or flopped down on the carpeted floor, as if everyone on board went on a naked tirade.

  Some of the passenger room doors were open, as if several people had left in a hurry, and apparently naked as it appeared to her that people were forced to take their clothes off. Regina couldn’t understand it. She had experienced many strange things in her life, but nothing like this.

  Was Roy part of something bigger, maybe? Some ploy to rob thousands of people stuck on a huge ship? She never found her gun, not her primary weapon anyway, the one from the night before. It was gone. Roy must have taken it.

  The hallway was wide and rounded, like a tunnel, with dull light emanating from the sidewalls. The whole wall glowed with light, which under normal circumstances felt very soothing to Regina. The night before, on her walk to eat out, the tunnel walls were alive with images of forests and wildlife. Now she felt the tunnel closing in on her, the soothing nature images gone, and just a dim light revealing a now creepy hallway before her.

  Regina continued down the hallway, listening for anybody. She did not stop at any of the open doorways, only quickly glanced in to see if anyone was around.

  She was alone, but couldn’t get rid of the feeling that she was being watched, a nagging feeling that would not go away.

  Regina wondered if Roy killed everyone. The gun Roy stole from her was fully loaded, but there was not enough ammunition to kill everyone. Besides, there was no way he could use it. The gun, her primary weapon, had never been hacked by anyone, and no one but a SOAD could use one. That allayed her fears somewhat, but not about how the hell she got back to her room. All these thoughts were superseded by what lay before her.o

  Regina came across the biggest pile of clothes she had seen yet, as she walked by an intersecting hallway, a t-section. Right at the cross point, there were white pants, shorts, t-shirts, boots, shoes, socks, underwear, and hats lying everywhere.

  When she looked left, down the hallway perpendicular to the one she came from, she saw more clothing. She wanted to go left, to get to the center part of the level where there was transport to either end of the ship via an automatic train. Regina decided to keep going straight.

  Regina figured to be at least half way across the ship now, making it over half a mile, going forward toward the cockpit.

  She hated not knowing what happened, hated the thought of Roy murdering everyone on the ship. And he would have had help; of that there was no doubt in her mind. But where was the blood? More than anything, she hated herself for letting Roy get the drop on her. Granted, her mindset at the time consisted of trying to have fun, not a high alert looking for a killer.

  When a deep, orange light emanated from under a door in front of her, all thoughts of hatred and killing flew from her mind. Regina pulled her secondary weapon, a silver-plated 45-caliber handgun, with a twist. If you get shot with this thing, not only do you get a large exit wound, but a shock to go with it, a high voltage and high amp current that would most likely kill you if the bullet didn't.

  Regina slowly walked towards the door, her gun in front of her. This wasn't her job, her task, but if someone was getting hurt, that she wouldn't stand for. Fear creeped in at the thought of opening the door to what waited on the other side, a fear she had not felt since her rookie year as a patrol cop in a city full of drug addicts, rapists, and murderers.

  Cursing herself for being a coward, she walked by the door, never taking her eyes from the bottom where she saw the orange flash. As Regina walked by, she turned and walked backward, watching the door and trying not to blink.

  Orange light filled the hallway, no sound, Regina just outside the range of the light.

  Chapter 4

  On the ship behind and to the left of Michael sat George Pratt, the commander, with a rank of 1B, and Travis Deckstill with a rank of 4.

  George, tall, heavyset, in his early sixties, gray crewcut hair, and a kind-looking face, came across as a big teddy bear the first time Travis met him. Travis, twenty years younger than George, short and in shape, blonde hair and an infectious smile -- at least he thought so -- did not get intimidated easily. But when he heard George talk for the first time, with a raspy voice that commanded attention, coming across as angry all the time, he did a double take. George just sounded tough. That was the easiest way for Travis to describe it.

  “Comm Set.” As soon as George spoke this, the communications channel on his eyeglasses, and everyone else’s in the group, opened up. ”Mike, before you try it, Travis is going to try and contact them again.” George looked over at Travis, who smiled back at George.

  Travis leaned over the console, a communications screen before him, the runner ship displayed. Travis touched the screen to open a channel with the runner ship. ”Ahhh, this one goes out to all those who forgot to put their brains back in their head after a night of shenaniga
ns. This is your last warning. Cease and desist or we’ll blow you up. Oh yes, we will.” Travis closed the channel as George looked over at him with a frown and narrowed eyes.

  The runner did not stop. It veered up, down, left, right, and every which way, zigzagging through space.

  Chapter 5

  Regina turned and ran away from the orange light. The light diminished in less than a second.

  Her heart pounded. In all her life, she had never felt more threatened, like the light itself meant to attack her, like it had a consciousness of hatred and malice so deep you would not survive its wrath if one iota of it made contact. It felt like something was there, yet nothing was, nothing visible, unless the orange light concealed it. But then wouldn't it be there now? She chanced a glance back, seeing nothing. She kept running, watching a stairwell sign get closer.

  Regina took a hard left into the stairwell, grabbing the edge of the open doorway to whip herself around. Her long legs helped her leap up three steps at a time.

  After climbing six flights, going up two levels, she bolted through the open doorway.

  Regina came out of a pyramid-shaped housing for the stairwell, into an open area of glassed courts for basketball, beach volleyball, and many different kinds of racquet sports. There were a couple of large, square rooms sealed all around by black glass, which Regina knew were Flash rooms for playing a game involving floating in a dark, weightless environment as you shot at holographic images of asteroids coming at you.

  There was no cover and going back was not an option. She kept on, zigzagging through the different hallways that surrounded all the courts, trying to find another stairwell.

  Regina took a left, behind a tennis court, and finally ran into a nontransparent structure. It seemed to be quite large, running left and right across the width of the ship. She ran toward a large, golden door with a holographic sign above it reading: The Kill Zone: An Adult Adventure.