Flight of the Javelin: The Complete Series: A Space Opera Box Set

by Rachel Aukes

  She jolted awake and checked her wrist-comm for the time. Four hours. She’d been asleep for over four hours. Frowning, she pushed to her feet, holding onto the bed until her legs steadied. As soon as she could stand on her own, she squeezed past the cryopods, out of her cabin, down the hall, and to the bridge.

  “It’s definitely not one of ours,” Sylvian said.

  “I’m not convinced of that yet, but I do know that she’s one slinky lady,” Birk said.

  Throttle stopped and stared at the viewscreen that filled the forward wall of the ship hull like a large window. The image displayed was grainy from the distance between the two ships, but she could make out the smooth, gray shape of a ship shaped like a slightly flattened bullet. Two large engines curved outward from its stern.

  She placed a hand on Birk’s shoulder.

  He jumped and turned to see her. “You’re awake.”

  “You should’ve woken me earlier,” she said.

  “I checked on you,” he said. “You were snoring, so I figured you needed the rest.”

  Throttle chortled. “I don’t snore.”

  “You snore like an old frigate firing up its engines,” Birk countered.

  “Frigates are loud,” Sylvian added.

  “You’ve never told me I snored.” Throttle shook her head. “I don’t snore. Now tell me what you’ve found out.”

  Birk pointed to the ship slowly coming into sharper resolution on the viewscreen. “She looks armored, but she’s too small to be a destroyer and doesn’t look to have any cannons. She’s too streamlined to be a cargo hauler or a passenger ship. And she’s sleeker and bigger than most yachts I’ve ever seen.”

  “It’s about eight times the size of the Scorpia,” Sylvian said. “It could be a high-end yacht, but I don’t know why it’d be out here so far from home.”

  “Maybe we’ve just come across an eccentric citizen with an itch to explore the galaxy and who had more credits than any of us could imagine,” Throttle offered.

  “I could imagine a lot,” Birk said.

  “I know you could,” Throttle said before turning back to Sylvian. “Anything new on the scans?”

  Sylvian shook her head but didn’t look up from her panel. “Nothing new, but we’re close enough that new scans have confirmed that this ship has been sitting there for a very long time, long enough for any energy signature from its engine to have long since dissipated. My guess is that it’s been sitting there for a couple of hundred years, at least. It also hasn’t responded to any of our pings, so it’s safe to say there’s no one on board.”

  Throttle’s eye twitched. There’d be no one on board alive. She’d been on dead ships before. The sealed systems slowed down decomposition. Corpses that should’ve rotted away in years took centuries, and their oily stench clung to every surface for far longer. She took a breath of fresh air. “Are the life-support systems operational?”

  “Our scanner can’t penetrate the ship. There are no signs that the hull is compromised, but the ship has been out here for so long that its environmental controls could’ve long since collapsed,” Sylvian said.

  “It may be dead, but it could have supplies for us,” Birk said.

  “Or its system logs might tell us where we might find help,” Sylvian said.

  Throttle nodded. “It’s worth checking out, even if just for answers as to why another ship is this far away from the Trappist system.” She motioned to Birk. “Give me an hour. I’ll put us alongside it. You’d better prep the crew. Everyone knows the drill: suit up and be ready for anything.”

  He vacated the pilot’s chair, which Throttle claimed.

  “You want all of us to go on board to check her out?” he asked.

  “No. Without scans, we don’t know what we’ll find in there. There could be a bioagent that wiped out the crew.”

  “I’ll start getting ready and will dig out the decon kit,” he said and turned to leave.

  “Take Garrett and Finn with you,” Throttle said.

  His brow furrowed. “Finn?”

  She nodded. “Consider this his entrance exam.”

  He gave a small nod and left the bridge.

  Sylvian remained quiet as she ran screens on her panel.

  “Share the viewscreen with all onboard comms,” Throttle said.

  Sylvian ran her fingers over a screen. “Everyone can now see what we’re seeing.”

  “Good. Now, get suited up. I’ll cover things up here for now.”

  Sylvian departed the bridge. Throttle switched to manual controls and added a small amount of power to close the distance faster. Every few minutes, the strange ship came into sharper resolution until its image became clear on the viewscreen. The sleek ship had no obvious armaments, which made Throttle suspect it was a luxury cruiser of some sort.

  “It has windows. Other than the Gabriela, I’ve only been on a couple of ships with windows. I bet it’s a yacht,” Sylvian said, her intrigue coming through clear in her voice.

  Throttle looked at the narrow window that encircled the ship, with a slightly wider window at the bow. Near the middle of the ship, above the windows, were large letters that read SR9104-73.

  Oddly, there were no other markings to indicate any corporation or government fleet to which it belonged.

  “At least its N-number is in the universal language,” Nolin said as he entered the bridge, wearing his dark chime suit. He took the seat Sylvian had vacated several minutes earlier.

  Throttle cocked her head. “You thought it was an alien ship or something?”

  He shrugged. “Haven’t you ever wondered if there’s other intelligent life in the galaxy? We’re farther out than anyone’s been before.”

  “Clearly, we’re not,” she said and returned her focus to flying the ship.

  The distance closed, she used nav engines to bring the Scorpia alongside the much larger ship. “I’m going to take us all the way around for a visual first. Keep an eye out for anything suspicious.”

  “What would constitute anything suspicious?” Nolin asked.

  “Someone shooting at us, for starters. Bodies floating around inside. Little green aliens waving at us.” Throttle smirked. Her smile faded as she scrutinized the ship. While it was smaller than the Gabriela, it dwarfed the Scorpia. Contoured metal covered the hull. The material looked somewhat like rilon except that she’d never seen rilon in any color except black, certainly not steel gray. And she wasn’t aware of any type of metallurgic process that was more advanced than the one that produced rilon.

  No lights blinked on the exterior, but dim corridor lighting carried out from the windows.

  Sylvian entered the bridge, wearing her suit, her cheeks flushed.

  Throttle lifted a brow. “I think you just set a new speed record for getting suited up.”

  She gave a small grin. “I didn’t want to miss anything.” She nodded to where Nolin sat. “I’ll take my seat back now.”

  He cocked his head. “It’s not your seat. If it’s anyone’s, it’s Birk’s.”

  Sylvian didn’t budge.

  After a brief stare-down, Nolin relented and stood.

  Sylvian wasted no time in claiming the seat and running her fingers over the panel.

  “Is it suspicious that this ship looks brand new?” Nolin asked. “The last time I saw a ship without any scratches, I was touring the shipbuilding yards.”

  “Could be the material used on the hull,” Throttle said while she maneuvered the Scorpia around the other ship.

  “I can confirm the scans. The ship clearly still has power,” Sylvian said. “Whether it’s enough to support environmental systems, we won’t know until we have a team on board.”

  Throttle could make out no movement through the windows, yet she felt trepidation. “Sylvian, keep an eye on the sensors. Let me know if you pick up the smallest blip of a change in its energy readings.”

  “On it,” Sylvian replied.

  Throttle steered the Scorpia out of the direct path of
the other ship’s engines as she piloted around the stern. She’d heard more than one tale of ships disabled by an engine blast from pirates.

  “Anything, Sylvian?” she asked.

  “Nothing’s changed.”

  Throttle piloted around the stern, down the opposite side, and to the bow, where she slowed to peer through the bridge window. Dim lights revealed the bridge, which had four stations, enough for her bridge crew. The seats were empty. No sign of life. No sign of bodies, thankfully.

  “If I had to guess, I’d say the crew abandoned ship,” Throttle said.

  She looked into the bridge a moment longer before taking her ship around to line up the two airlock doors. She held her breath as she brought the Scorpia within twenty meters of the other ship, half expecting the ship to have countermeasures of some kind to prevent unauthorized access. When nothing happened, she let out a breath.

  After a quick verification that her ship was in perfect spacing with the other ship, Throttle pushed to her feet. “Sylvian, keep an eye on the sensors. As soon as Birk’s team opens the airlock, I want you to run full scans on that ship, starting with environmentals.”

  “You’ve got it, Captain,” Sylvian said.

  Throttle turned to Nolin, who stood behind the two women. “Take my seat, Nolin. I want you to monitor the recon team’s comms. Broadcast their feed throughout the ship. That way, I can stay by the airlock to assist with the team.”

  Once he took Throttle’s seat, she left the bridge, stopping by her cabin to put on her suit and weapons before weaving through the narrow walkway to the airlock, where the team of three stood holding their helmets while Aubree double-checked each of their suits for problems.

  “We’re alongside the ship,” Throttle said. “The scans haven’t picked up any new information, so we need that ship’s airlock opened before we can run new scans. Are you ready?”

  Birk and Finn each gave her a nod. Garrett grinned and clapped his hands together. “Let’s do this.”

  “The suits look good, and I have everyone’s biodata feeding to my wrist-comm,” Aubree said.

  “We’re all set, then,” Birk said.

  Throttle glanced over the stacks of supplies piled alongside the walls of the airlock and frowned. “Did Eddy fix the depressurization system?”

  “No, why?” Birk asked.

  “Without depressurization in the airlock, anything unsecured is going to be sucked out,” she said.

  “I secured everything,” Birk said. “They’re fine.”

  “You did?” she asked, doubting his diligence.

  “Of course.”

  “I just don’t want something to come crashing into you guys the moment I open the outer airlock.”

  “It won’t,” Birk said.

  “If you say so. At least the pressurization system is still working. Now, I expect you to stay in comm contact the entire time you’re over there. If you run into something that feels off, I want you to bail. There’s no one out here to come to our rescue, so we can’t afford to take any unnecessary risks. If you three verify that the ship is completely safe, Birk will check the systems to see if the ship’s salvageable. If it is, I’ll have Eddy transfer over to begin getting it operational. If it’s dead, we’ll see if there’s anything worth taking before we get ourselves back on course.” She took a breath. “Okay. Get your helmets on. I’ll open the lock. Be careful. That goes for all three of you.”

  Birk’s grin could be seen through his helmet. “Always am.”

  Throttle and Aubree stepped out of the pressurization chamber, and Throttle closed the inner airlock, separating the women from the team. She watched them through the small window and pressed the comm button on the wall. “Give me a thumbs-up that your helmets are secure.”

  A moment later, three gloved thumbs were lifted.

  “Opening outer door in three—two—one.” She entered the command on the screen by the airlock. She watched through the window as the outer airlock opened. The vacuum of space pulled the team forward. A crate of supplies flung from the wall, crashing into Birk and knocking him toward the open door. Sudden fear sucked Throttle’s breath from her lungs.

  Finn leaped and grabbed Birk, who seemed limp in the zero-g chamber.

  “Stand back. Closing door!” Throttle yelled. As soon as she saw the men clear the opening, she slammed the emergency button to close the outer door. Long seconds passed while the airlock filled with atmospheric pressure, and she opened the inner door the instant the light flashed green.

  Aubree rushed around Throttle to Birk, who was now lying motionless on the floor.

  “Birk!” Throttle called out.

  Birk groaned and grabbed his shoulder. “Ow.”

  Throttle, Garrett, and Finn stood around the pair as Aubree gingerly tugged off Birk’s helmet.

  “Tell me where it hurts,” Aubree said.

  He was wincing. “Just banged my shoulder and got the wind knocked out of me, is all,” he said through clenched teeth.

  Aubree brushed his hand away and ran her fingers over his collarbone and shoulder. “It feels dislocated. I’m going to have to reset it.”

  “Ouch. I don’t envy you.” Garrett shuddered in sympathy as he took a step back and leaned against a stack of crates. Finn took a step back as well, giving Birk and Aubree more space.

  Throttle felt her own features mirror Birk’s grimace. He shot a quick, almost pathetic glance her way while Aubree gave him a shot.

  “This’ll help with the pain,” the medic said.

  Birk forced a smile in Throttle’s direction. “I’ll be right as rain in no time.”

  Throttle’s concern was tamped down by anger. “You could’ve gotten yourself killed. Luckily for you, Finn grabbed you before you could ding yourself up even worse.” She threw a glance at Finn. “That was a fast move on your part. Good job.”

  Finn gave a nod. “Just doing my job.”

  Throttle sighed when she turned back to Birk. “You’ll be no good doing recon with only one arm. I’ll get my helmet. Finn, Garrett, double-check the straps on the rest of the crates.” She turned and left without paying any heed to Birk’s string of weak assertions that he should go because he was the original pirate on the crew.

  She was returning with her helmet and a photon rifle when she heard Birk yell. She reached the airlock to find Birk on his feet, nursing his shoulder.

  “You didn’t have to pull so hard,” Birk grumbled.

  “You’re being a baby,” Aubree said. “Besides, the painkillers should’ve blocked most of the pain.”

  Birk scowled. “Trust me, they didn’t.”

  Throttle eyed Birk. “How’re you holding up?”

  He stood straighter. “I’m good with whatever needs done.”

  “Good. You can manage the airlock for us.”

  He scowled. “I’d rather go with the recon team.”

  “And I’d rather have you make it one mission without you getting yourself injured so I don’t have to hear you complain every day for the next month.”

  He frowned. “I never complain.”

  She pursed her lips and held up her pinky.

  “You’re talking about this?” He lifted his left hand where his pinky finger was an inch shorter than it should’ve been. “I was shot. Shot,” he added with emphasis. “How many people do you know get shot and stay in the fight?”

  “A whole lot more than how many people I know got shot in the pinky and acted like he was near death.”

  “It really hurt,” he said quietly.

  “I know,” she agreed and turned to the others in the airlock. “Now, let’s crack open that ship to see what goodies it’s got for us.”

  Garrett motioned to the weapon Throttle held. “Should we expect trouble?”

  “We should expect anything.” She looked each man up and down to see the weapons they’d brought. Satisfied, she gave a small nod to each.

  Birk and Aubree left the pressurization chamber, leaving Throttle alone with Fin
n and Garrett.

  “Let’s try this again,” Garrett said under his breath before slipping on his helmet.

  Throttle secured her rifle to her suit before donning her helmet. She turned to the window to see Birk watching.

  Birk’s voice came through the intercom. “You know the drill, guys. Give me a thumbs-up when you’re all set to go.”

  Throttle held up her thumb. Garrett and Finn mirrored her action.

  Birk gave a nod. “Opening the lock in three—two—one.” He blew her a kiss and the airlock opened.

  Throttle felt the vacuum pull her toward the door, but her boots held her firm. When the pressure equalized to that outside the ship, she powered down her grav boots and floated toward the door. She grabbed on each side of the opening and turned to check on the two men behind her. “You both ready for this?”

  “I was ready the first time,” Garrett said drily.

  “Ready,” Finn added.

  “I’ll lead. Remember to keep plenty of space between you. I don’t want you to play pinball and make the Scorpia come chase you down.”

  “This isn’t my first space jump,” Finn said.

  “But it’s your first with us,” Throttle said. “I’ll see you both over there.”

  She returned her focus on reaching the other ship, eyed the small airlock door across from her, and shoved off.

  She moved through the black, on target for the airlock door some distance before her.

  Most people felt out of control in zero g. Throttle felt free, as though she were sailing through a weightless ocean. There were no currents to drag her this way and that. The only movements were the ones she made.

  The purest form of action and reaction.

  In gravity, Throttle needed a mechanical aid to move around in a world where everyone around her walked. But in zero g, she was the equal of any human and superior to most. As she approached the airlock door, she reached out. Most people would power on their grav boots and lead with their feet, using magnetism to force a connection. Throttle preferred to use her hands to bring herself gently to the other ship.

  As soon as she reached a grab bar by the door, she used her strength to slow her momentum, and she pressed gently against the hull. “I’m at the door,” she announced through her comm. Holding the bar with one hand, she turned to watch the two men’s journeys. Finn reached the ship hull next, going faster than Throttle had. She could tell the instant he powered up his grav boots because they swung him around and connected hard with the hull. His grunt echoed through Throttle’s comm. He crumpled but quickly regained his stance.