Encounters (The Spiral Slayers Book 1)

by Rusty Williamson

  Leewood puffed out the side of his mouth in mock disgust but didn’t object.

  They all knew what the first order of business was and got in line for the restrooms. Relieving yourself in an e-suit was possible but…not really pleasant.

  Twenty minutes later, they were outside airlock seven, suited up and checking each other out with the help of two of the crew members.

  Leewood, as the designated EVA leader, ran them through the safety protocols. “Radio check,” he said, and the other three responded. Finally, the two crew members helped all four through the airlock’s hatch and sealed it behind them.

  The protocols for EVAs were strict, and those who cut corners eventually paid. Accidents could happen too easily and were too often fatal. EVAs were very dangerous even without mistakes for a number of reasons. The primary danger was collision with space debris. The orbital velocity of such space debris could be up to 10 times the speed of a bullet, so the kinetic energy of a small particle—a small rock or a grain of sand—was equal to that of a bullet. Other dangers included spacesuit malfunctions, punctures, and AUS incidents (accidental uncontrolled separation, i.e. accidentally being thrown away from your vehicle with no way to get back). Fortunately radiation bursts from the sun wouldn’t be a worry this time as they were shielded from the sun by Cinder.

  Leewood, Harrington and the Edens carefully backed into the EMUs, turned them on, and ran the diagnostic test programs. Each signaled to Leewood that their EMU checked out then finished locking themselves into the units.

  “Control,” Leewood said over the radio, “we’re ready for Zero G. Please proceed.”

  The artificial gravity shut down and each took a moment to adjust to the uncomfortable feeling of falling.

  Leewood continued, “Control, we’re ready to vent.” Control acknowledged and over a sixty-second period, the air pressure was reduced until they were in a vacuum. They ran a final suit diagnostics and finally Leewood said, “Control, we’re ready. Kindly open the hatch.”

  The entire wall before them slid away revealing the Hideaway shipyard, brightly lit, in the unnatural contrast of a vacuum. With no atmosphere to defuse the light, shadows were completely black and colors were strangely flat and muted. Due to the bright lights, nothing beyond the structures was visible.

  The team exited the ship and Leewood led them across the half-mile gap to the main airlock at the base of the central control structure. They arrived without incident.

  Their plan was to enter the main structure manually. The only reason for this was that if anything went wrong with a powered entry attempt, the lock could jam and cost them time. Opening the hatches manually was far safer. Their primary mission now was to get inside, not test the airlock hardware.

  As planned, five sphere-bots met them there; three had already reconfigured themselves and locked onto the crank to manually open the airlock. Evelyn drifted up to the crank and the three bots and inspected them. Then she looked around for a minute, inspecting the surroundings. Satisfied, she looked back to the bots, then moved her hand up and down watching the small fiber optic stem coming from each bot to make sure they were tracking her movements. Then she clinched her hand twice—the universal sphere-bot sign for ‘go’. The three bots strained for a moment then the crank started to turn.

  When the airlock door opened, some air and debris were expelled. A straw bounced off Leewood’s helmet visor and a plastic fork rotated off in silence. The door slid fully open. Carefully, all four entered. The inside light was flickering and more debris floated around them: the matching plastic spoon, a plastic cup, a paper plate.

  The two free sphere-bots made sure that all of them were safely inside before coming in with them. Then they went to the manual crank for the inside door, turned it enough to confirm that it was not frozen before the outer door was closed. The careful step-by-step process went on until finally the inside door opened.

  Still using their EMUs, Leewood, Harrington and the Edens exited the airlock and entered the main control center.

  It was surreal. The inner hatch led to a large EVA ready area. The lights were bright and harsh. All manner of trash and debris slowly tumbled and danced in the cold thin air.

  “Weird,” was all Evelyn said. She turned on the atmospheric analyzer attached to her right arm and it immediately began testing the air.

  Brandon had brought the ‘nose’. He removed a thin two-by-four inch case from his carry pouch, then nudged his EMU forward to the nearest wall. Here he opened the case and planted it on the wall. It was magnetic, but also had adhesive on the back. The case contained a test nose, a few red and green LEDs, and an analog gauge showing air pressure. It read just over twelve psi. The ‘nose’ was a growth from human lung stock that “breathed.” It was very sensitive and the ultimate test to see if the air was in any way harmful to humans.

  After watching the atmospheric analyzer on her wrist for a moment, Evelyn cautiously announced, “The air looks…good.”

  Leewood moved close to Evelyn and checked the read outs, “Ok, no indication of poisonous gases or dangerous organisms,” he said more to himself. He backed away and turned and looked at the nose—it was still doing fine. The two-inch piece of flesh with a hole in the top rose up and down. Both LEDs were green.

  He looked at the others and then seemed to make up his mind. He reached up and started pulling the quick release catches on his helmet’s visor. The others just watched. With a slight pop, his visor lifted away exposing Leewood’s face to the outside air. He kept his hands on the visor ready to close it again fast if need be. At first, he held his breath and waited to see if the air burned his skin or his eyes. It didn’t, so far so good. He took a tentative breath of the cold air and blew it back out—a slight smile touched his mouth. “A little stale and very cold, but I think we’re all-green.”

  The others removed their visors and looked around at each other. Evelyn then smiled and said with exaggerated fanfare, “I declare the Hideaway Shipyard officially open for business.” They all laughed with relief.

  ---

  At the Anderson Shipyard, Radin strode across the vast assembly room. It was filled with people and activity, and to him, it looked the same as any other day which was good and as it should be.

  The thing was, not long ago, none of these people knew why they were here. Two days ago, the President’s speech had told them. But he assumed that actually they had known why in general terms: to serve and protect. Perhaps the specifics of the job really didn’t matter that much.

  A thought occurred to him. Radin looked around at the elevators, then followed the elevator shafts up the wall to the third and uppermost level before the shafts disappeared into the ceiling. At each of the three stops, walkways partially encircled the room with doors to offices. Just a few months ago, General Burnwall had led him out of the topmost elevator door and stood with him overlooking this room. Over a thousand officers had stood at attention in parade formation, in full dress uniform, on this floor he now walked on. There had been L-Class fighters interspersed among them. He turned his head and looked at the huge window at the far end of the room—it was empty now, showing only the stars. However, on that day, they had placed the ten Leviathan Battleships out there so that they could be seen trailing off into the distance.

  Burnwall had done all this to welcome him. And when he walked out of that elevator and saw it all, it had overwhelmed him. He tried to imagine what he had looked like to those down here on that day. Small, he decided.

  Of course, Burnwall had not staged all of that just for him…he had done it for everyone in the Leviathan Task Force to kick things off and to infuse every member with pride, enthusiasm and initiative.

  Anderson had not really had the facilities they needed—not enough classrooms, office space or even enough quarters to house the 1000 officers. So they had taken over the large assembly room.

  The floor of the large room was filled with activity. To his left, 10 L-fighter simulators just in from
Hideaway via a Loud Umbrella Ship were being unpacked and assembled. To his right, 20 officers were seated, taking a class. Ahead was an L-fighter—a dozen officers were gathered around it while an instructor pointed out and explained different parts.

  As far as finding places for the officers to sleep, that had been easy—they had just housed them in five of the ten Battleships. Within the week, the 1000 officers would receive their assignments and they would all relocate to their assigned battleships.

  Radin reached the elevators and pressed the call button. He was headed for the General’s office. He had made the appointment first thing this morning and he again went over the proposal in his head. He knew he was about to double the stress levels of both himself and the General but…they had a problem, and Radin had come up with a solution.

  The problem was that bringing everyone up to speed to fill the vital ship positions in all ten of the Juggernauts would take at least another eight months. Add six months of shake-out maneuvers, then say another six months travel time to Hideaway, and they were looking at well over a year and a half to coax the 10 old Battleships to Hideaway. And by any yardstick, those timeframes were ambitious.

  However, they needed to be out to Hideaway in half that time. Evelyn Eden said that in ten months, they would need to start moving five of Anderson’s battleships into the docks in order to test and fine-tune the dock’s systems. According to Mrs. Eden, they couldn’t use any of the thirty ships they already had out there for a number of reasons, all of them relating to the fact that those ships were untested…untried. Both Radin and General Burnwall had told the Edens as well as the President that they were simply asking the impossible. But obviously…Radin’s subconscious had not given up and had been working overtime.

  Radin was so focused on his pitch to sell his plan that his ride up the lift and walk to Burnwall’s office passed unnoticed, and he suddenly found himself in front of Burnwall’s secretary. “Well, hello, Talvin, how are you?” She was the only one, on this base anyway, who used his given name.

  “Is the big guy in?” he stammered.

  Jet had been General Burnwall’s secretary for twenty-three years and she was a force unto herself. She got to her feet and came around her desk smiling, “Oh…thanks for asking, Talvin…I’m fine, too.” Radin turned red and seemed to shrink in size. Jet came up to him and squeezed his arms. “Oh…I’m just kidding, Talvin… you’re just such an easy target,” she said with a twinkle in her eye. She guided him to Burnwall’s office door. “He’s waiting for you.” She gave him a puzzled look, “Since when do you make appointments to barge in here?” she asked. “This must be important.” She stretched the word important out making it sound more like “impotent.” She opened the door, guiding a somewhat verbally bruised Radin Talvin into the General’s office and closed the door.

  Burnwall smiled broadly and set aside some papers he had been working on. “Please.” he motioned Radin to the two plush chairs in front of his desk, “Sit down.” Burnwall leaned back in his chair and sighed as Radin took his seat. “How are we doing out there?” he asked.

  Radin still wasn’t used to seeing the young, well-built kid sitting behind Burnwall’s desk. Burnwall had finally taken the Loud I-pill and it had taken him back to his early twenties. The “old man” wasn’t the old man anymore and Radin was still taken aback every time he saw Burnwall. Hiding his reaction, Radin blinked and huffed, “You mean to tell me you don’t read those reports I spend hours on each week?!”

  Burnwall waved his hand, “Of course I do! But I’m busy as shit and a little behind…besides, if there was a problem, you’d be in here to tell me about it…” he gestured towards Radin and squinted, “just as you are now.” He gave Radin an expectant, if somewhat reluctant, look, “I’m almost afraid to ask.”

  Radin chuckled and replied, “It’s nothing like that, Joe. In fact, I think you’re going to like it!” Burnwall’s look didn’t change, but he opened his hands inviting Radin to go on. “We pretty much have two crews trained that could begin trials.”

  “Yes, but if we let them do that, who will continue to train the rest?”

  “You mean train them in classrooms and simulators?” Radin leaned forward not waiting for an answer, “Why not in the ships themselves?”

  Burnwall barked a laugh, “Are you nuts! They’d destroy themselves, the ships, and this facility!”

  “Not if we left enough empty space between the ships and…anything else.”

  Burnwall’s expression went quizzical and he leaned back and steeped his fingers, “We’d have to get outside the borders of the planetary system. They aren’t ready to take the ships out there. And even if they could, you’re adding the cost of fully stocking and fueling the ships…to what gain?”

  Radin got a lopsided grin on his face and he made circles in the air with his right index finger, “We have tons of empty space on almost the entire route to Hideaway…and,” Radin held his palms up to Burnwall, warding off the coming objection, “…the Leviathans have this little feature I recently learned about called…‘slave mode.’”

  Burnwall’s head twitched, “Slave mode,” he repeated, and a very thoughtful look came into his eyes. “That’s very interesting.”

  “It sure is,” Radin replied with a grin.

  ---

  Four months later…

  Wicker contacted the special team and held a very short teleconferencing meeting. He said, “In September, that’s about six months from now, I will hold a meeting, a large and top-secret meeting to discuss our defense options. I want Hideaway to host it. This is where we will hash out everything with everyone who will be involved. Information will be coming to each of you. It will be…” he inhaled, “our first counsel of war.”

  ---

  Two months later…

  From her office door in subbasement five of the capital building, Jan Parker looked over her domain. The large room was filled with the sounds of people working, people walking quickly this way and that. To her, it was the sound of happiness.

  She saw Lenny and smiled—it was time to put the boy out of his misery, but she’d make him pay just a little more first. She hid her smile, put on a serious expression and then got his attention, motioning him over. He came into her office and Jan started to close the door when she saw Woodworth and motioned him in as well. It was only fair.

  Jan walked around behind her desk and sat down still wearing her stern expression. She had decided that she was definitely going to drag this out and play it for all it was worth! She just looked at Lenny and said nothing.

  Finally, he shrugged, “Ah…er…what?” He waved his arms.

  Jan slowly shook her head. “Okay Mister…” she said in a firm voice as if she were going to dress him down. He waved his arms again, looking helplessly between her and Woodworth who had turned away and was pretending to look at some charts on the wall. However, Woodworth blew it by turning a little too much—Lenny saw the smile he was trying to hide. He looked back at Jan, a touch of excitement growing in his eyes.

  The game was up and Jan slowly let her stern look start to slip, “Okay,” she said again with the last trace of forced sternness, “you can stop your pathetic pouting and mulling around now.” She could not hide it any longer and her smile broke through.

  Lenny suddenly straightened and his eyes lit up. “I'm going! Right? I’m going…” he looked around and lowered his voice—he was really not supposed to know, “…out to Hideaway, for the meeting!”

  “Yes,” Jan said dragging the word out reluctantly, “you and Trevor as well.” Lenny was almost bobbing out of his shoes. She shook her head, her eyes twinkling, “Thank Floyd, he convinced the powers that be that, like many others, we too needed ‘our aides.’”

  Lenny, who was all smiles now, looked over at Woodworth, “Alright!”

  Woodworth smiled and said, “Well, I just couldn't stand to see it any longer…the two of you mulling around here looking like you'd both lost your best friends.�
�

  “Alright!” Lenny repeated. He bounded towards the office door, “I've got to go tell Trevor!”

  Jan spoke up, stopping him short, “Did I mention how we'd be getting out there?” Lenny spun around, his eyes widening even further.

  “Well, it seems we'll be hitching a ride with the Loud on one of their Umbrella ships.”

  “Alright!” Lenny said again. He flew out the door. As he passed the window, they saw him jump, punch the air, and yell “ALRIGHT!”

  Jan looked over at Woodworth, “Did something suddenly happen to that boy's vocabulary shrinking it to just one word?” They both chuckled.

  ---

  It had been eight months since Radin had discovered “slave mode” and discussed it with General Burnwall, a very busy eight months but it had been worth it.

  High above Amular, Captain Radin Talvin strode across the bridge of the Leviathan Battleship Lambert and stood before the captain’s seat. He looked around the bridge at the various stations and crew, then looked up and studied the holographic tactical display—a semitransparent holographic sphere 15 feet in diameter that floated in the air before him and over the heads of the eight officers stationed in the nose of the bridge. It showed all ten battleships in a widely spaced line that extended for 20 miles, starting from 10 miles above the Anderson Shipyards at the Northern pole and extending into space. The Lambert was at the front of that line. All of the battleships were currently at station keeping.

  A fully trained bridge crew of 25, including the captain, manned the Leviathan Battleship’s bridge—General Burnwall’s presence made it 26. A seat had been mounted slightly behind and to the right of the captain's chair for him. He was there as an observer only—it was Captain Radin’s show.

  The bridge was roughly a large rounded triangle with three levels, all of it encased in 12 feet of battle armor. The front and sides of the bridge held massive windows made of five-foot thick transparent poly-steel. When at battle stations, the entire bridge was lowered into the huge hollow wedge it sat on top of—basically the entire front section of the battleship. This encased the bridge with almost one million tons of hardened battle steel intermixed with structural integrity fields and force barriers—a virtually impregnable nest which theoretically could survive a direct nuclear hit, though such a hit would likely seal them inside.