Escape Velocity: The Anthology

by Unknown

  Harris groaned loudly when the food dispenser refused his request for an extra snack. A message on the touchscreen read: Daily Limit Exceeded.

  “Same to you, Mother.” He raised a fist to pound the touchscreen into submission and then thought better of it. Since no food was forthcoming, he ducked into his sleeping cabin and crawled under the covers. He cursed his luck at being assigned to a lifer with a tough-as-nails reputation. Pulling the blanket roughly over his head, he closed his eyes and tried to sleep.

  “Stupid old man.”

  Day 2

  Harris awoke with a start. What was that noise?

  The intercom crackled. “Get up here now.”

  “My shift isn't for a couple of hours. Leave me alone.”

  “We have a problem.”

  Something in the old man's tone perked up his ears. He rolled out of bed.

  As Harris zipped up his jumpsuit, he felt an unnerving shudder beneath his feet. A couple of picture frames on the letter table suddenly dropped on their faces. One of them vibrated its way to the edge of the table and fell, shattering the frame. As he bent over to pick up the pieces, the deck pitched hard and bounced him off the nearest wall.

  He staggered to the cabin door and pressed the exit button. The door stayed closed. “Hey, old man! I can't get the door open!”

  “Stand by. I'm working on it.”

  A few seconds later, the pocket door retreated and Harris stumbled into the main cabin. It was filled with white smoke. He choked and fell to his knees.

  “Get up here!” Eastman shouted over the intercom.

  Harris crawled under the smoke as they had shown him during training and found the flight deck door. He pounded it with his fist. It opened at once and he scrambled into his seat. The door slammed closed, shutting out the smoke.

  “What the hell happened?”

  “We've been struck by a meteoroid.” The old man's face was grim. “It crashed through the engineering section. Fasten your restraints; I'm taking us out of hyperdrive.”

  “Did you notify the convoy?”

  “Can't. Antenna's gone. So is Mother.”

  Harris studied the readouts on the control panels. “Are you seeing this, old man? We have major radiation leakage back in engineering. The contamination is spreading forward, and fast. Do something, damnit!”

  “Put your restraints on.” Eastman spoke calmly with a voice as deep as the ocean. “Don't panic.”

  The Pegasus unexpectedly rolled left as something exploded behind them with a roar, shaking the spacecraft like a dog with a sock in its mouth.

  “What was that?”

  “Easy kid. We're free of engineering now. I just dropped us out of hyperspace, too.”

  The stars in the viewscreen stopped their erratic patterns and settled into stationary points of light in the darkness. Harris' stomach turned a few flips. He grunted. “What the hell do we do now? Do you even know our position?”

  Before Eastman could answer, a star exploded in the distance. It was a red supernova expanding evenly in all directions. It cast a stunning light.

  “That was engineering,” Eastman said quietly. “It could have been us. Don't worry. It's already far enough away. We're safe.”

  “Safe? What do you mean 'safe?' We just lost all the consumables. How long do you think we can survive in this tin can? The convoy's more than a month behind us!”

  Eastman studied the controls. “We're not dead, yet. We can last for about two days in here. I'm scanning for any M-class planets in this sector. If we find one, we'll land and set up the emergency com-dish. When the convoy passes by, they'll pick up our signal and send out a rescue team.”

  “What about food and water?”

  “There's a kit under your seat. It's enough to keep us alive until they catch up with us.” Eastman checked the long-range scanners with an expert eye. “We're in luck. I think we may have something in this system. One M-class body... I'm adjusting course now.”

  “How far out?”

  “Looks like fifty hours until we reach orbital capture, maybe a bit more.”

  “You said we could only last a couple of days.”

  “I can stretch out our air by cutting back the O-2 partial pressure. We might make it.” He smiled. “Try to calm down, kid. You'll use less air.”

  Harris settled back into his seat and cursed his luck for the hundredth time since boarding the Pegasus. He wriggled around for a second or two and tried to get comfortable. For the first time, he realized he had forgotten his boots.

  Day 4

  Harris' legs burned from cramping in the tiny cabin. He studied the bright blue orb in the viewscreen, suspended like a jewel in an ocean of darkness. “How long you think?”

  “We should make orbit in thirty minutes,” said Eastman.

  “Still nothing solid on the surface?”

  “No, not yet. It looks like a water planet, all right. Surface temperatures are within limits, though. At least we won't freeze.”

  “As if that's preferable to drowning,” said Harris. “How can there not be one piece of solid ground on the entire planet?”

  “I already told you. It's a water planet. I'm still scanning it.”

  “Well, find someplace we can land without swimming. I don't think we can tread water until the convoy arrives.”

  Eastman said nothing. He continued studying the scanners.

  Two hours later, the oxygen tanks finally reached zero and the cabin grew silent as the air fans ceased humming.

  “We’re into our third orbit now,” said Eastman. “Have to start re-entry soon unless you want to sit up here until we die from anoxia.”

  “Are you asking my advice?” Harris said. “I have no idea. You're supposed to be the expert.”

  “I just wanted your opinion.”

  “See anything solid down there?”

  “A blip on the screen, maybe. Then it was gone. It may have been nothing. I locked it into the navi-computer.” Eastman paused. “Well, what about it?”

  “Take us in. If I have to die, I'd appreciate a chance to stretch my legs first,” Harris replied.

  “First thing we agree on.” The old man fired their one available rocket and sent the craft on an entry angle toward the water planet.

  The Pegasus pitched and roared as it slammed into the atmosphere at twenty thousand miles an hour. Eastman tightened his harness.

  A repetitive beep-beep-beep got Harris' attention.

  Eastman pointed to something on the scanners. “Land,” he said quietly. “There is something down there. I'm adjusting course.” He added, “Doesn't seem like much.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It could be a rock sticking up out of the ocean. It can't be more than a couple of hundred square meters...”

  “Who cares? It's land!”

  “I'm putting us down right next to it. You remember the drill after we ditch, right?”

  “Sure, old man. You’ve told me enough times. I grab the food packs under the couches while you deploy the raft and load up the sat-radio. We meet in the boat.”

  “That’s right. And don't panic.”

  Harris glanced up at the circular escape hatch above their heads. It seemed too small.

  The little ship broke through the cloud cover a thousand meters above the surface. Harris saw a vast, empty blue ocean that stretched to the horizon in all directions.

  Eastman pointed out the forward window. “There it is.”

  A pathetic stretch of black stone with a single high spot stuck up out of the water. The ocean rushed up to meet them.

  “Brace yourself,” said Eastman.

  They struck the water hard, bounced back into the air, and struck again even harder. Harris felt the air rush from his lungs with a whoosh. His head banged into the control panels and he blacked out.

  When he awoke, he was sitting in water up to his waist. More water was pouring in around him and rising fast. Eastman was shaking him by the shoulders.

&nbs
p; “Come on!”

  Harris only had enough time to draw a quick breath before the water gurgled over his head. He unsnapped his restraints and opened his eyes. He saw the old man was already popping the escape hatch. A second later, Eastman was up and gone.

  Harris pushed himself free and kicked his way through the hatch and swam to the surface, choking on seawater. The ship had already disappeared from beneath him like a stone.

  A small yellow raft inflated with a soft hiss. Eastman tossed something into it, and then reached back and held out a hand while keeping a death grip on the boat with his other hand. “Take it! Take my hand, kid!”

  Harris grabbed for it.

  The two men struggled into the little boat. Harris immediately vomited seawater over the side until he got his breath back.

  Day 8

  “I'm hungry.”

  “Drink some water.”

  Harris sat and stared at the empty ocean and wished for the hundredth time he had remembered to grab E-pack number two, the one containing the rations. They had nothing to eat. Pack number one had contained a water desalinater, a knife, and the sat-radio, but no food. Eastman had managed to get it into the boat.

  Their prison was a black rock pounded smooth by the ocean, barely twenty meters long and five meters wide. They had stuffed the life raft upright into a deep groove in the rock to provide some meager shade from the blazing sun.

  Eastman sat on the ground next to the raft, assembling the radio with its umbrella-sized satellite dish.

  Harris was at the edge of the rock with his feet dangling in the water. “How's it going?”

  The old man shook his head. “Looks like the arms on the dish are broken. They got banged up when we hit the water.”

  “Will it work or not?”

  “I don't know yet.”

  Harris plucked his feet from the water and approached for a closer look. The flexible aluminum sheet for the dish was intact, but he could see what the old man meant. Two of the metal arms used to stretch out the sheet to the proper tension were shattered. “That won't work. If you can't tension the dish, the signal won't reach fifty kilometers. Don’t waste your time.”

  The old man gently replaced the broken silver umbrella into the container. “I know.”

  “Any ideas?”

  “I'm working on it. We've got twenty-seven days before they come within range.”

  “We'll die of hunger before they do.”

  “It takes a long time to die of hunger, boy.” Eastman looked up with a hard eye. “Meanwhile, we drink lots of water.”

  Day 15

  Young Harris laid down the knife and checked his hands. They were covered in blisters. He saw Eastman sitting at the far end of the rock, staring at the horizon as if he expected a ship to come sailing past. Stupid old man, he thought.

  The commander's latest idea was for them to take turns carefully chipping into a flat section of the rock. The plan was to carve a six-walled bowl into the rock and somehow fasten the dish inside. In the three days since they had started, the tough stone had only yielded a hole the size of a grapefruit. The stone was like iron, and gave ground only grudgingly.

  Harris picked up the knife and started again, trying to find the weakest spots in the rock. Patience, the old man had instructed.

  He grew frustrated and banged the stone harder.

  The knife snapped in two. The larger end of the blade fell into the hole with a soft tinkling sound.

  “Damn.”

  Day 21

  The two astronauts sat together under the shade of the raft, sipping water. Both men were thin and gaunt, with deep tans. They watched the horizon together.

  “You have a family, kid?”

  “Two sisters. And my folks.”

  “Nice to have a family.”

  “What about you?”

  Eastman shrugged. “Nah. The service. That's been my life.”

  “You ever miss it?”

  “Miss what?”

  “Wife, kids. You know.”

  “No. I've had a good run. I've seen things...”

  “We're going to die here, aren't we?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Maybe? They won't find us.”

  “I might have another idea.”

  “What is it?”

  “Forget it, kid. We'll discuss it later.”

  Day 24

  Eastman stood over the boy, blocking out the sun. “I need to talk to you.”

  “Go away.” Harris rolled over on the rock in abject misery, covering his head with an arm.

  “Get up.” He tapped Harris' arm with the desalinater tube. “Drink this.”

  “Let me alone. I don't want to go on with this. I...” Suddenly, Eastman was pulling his head up and forcing the water into his mouth. He drank.

  “Now get up and listen to me.”

  “Okay, old man. Okay.” Grudgingly, Harris sat upright and groaned. Seawater splashing against the rock had soaked both men for weeks. Sitting was painful because of the open sores on their bodies.

  When he finished explaining his plan, Eastman sat down next to Harris and stared calmly at the ocean. “That's it. It has to be done. Can you do it?”

  “You're not serious.”

  “It's the only thing that makes sense.”

  Harris looked into the commander's eyes as if he were seeing the man for the first time.

  Day 32

  The silver craft dropped out of the sky like a meteor, hovering over the island for a few seconds before landing at the far end of the rock. Two men in white jumpsuits emerged cautiously from a side door.

  One of the men fell to his knees and became violently ill. The other one cautiously approached the skeleton-man sitting at the edge of the water.

  “Ensign Harris?”

  The skeleton man turned and squinted at the figure above him, as if it were a mirage. “Are you real?”

  “We picked up your signal yesterday. We can't stay here, sir. You can tell us what happened on the way back to the convoy.”

  Harris was numb. He let the man help him walk across the rock.

  The three men climbed into the shiny rescue craft. The one assisting Harris eased him into a seat and buckled his restraints with quick and expert hands. The engine ignited with a soft whine.

  As they began to rise from a bit of stone on an endless ocean, Ensign Harris took a last look at his former prison.

  Eastman's bloody remains lay near the center of the rock. His arms were splayed out in a crucifixion pose. Next to him was the sat-radio and a dish antenna braced with carefully carved rib bones.

  Thank You for the Music

  Rosie Oliver

  “How do you like my new body?” his wife said twirling around. Anneka’s long hair lifted to reveal her sumptuous curves. She could’ve been wearing pink body spray if it weren’t for the cuffs and flared legs.

  Sven wanted to be interested, but was numb. The doctor had been blunt. He had only four weeks left to go android, otherwise a year at most to live. Damn cancer.

  “Look at these hands. Aren’t they exquisite?” She held them out palm down and wiggled her fingers. Her fingernails were painted gold to match her hair.

  He blinked. “How much did it cost you this time?”

  Her smile faded. “That’s my business.”

  “Where’d you get the money from?”

  “My savings.”

  “What savings? You said you had none left after the last time.”

  “I’ve earned a bit here and there through data processing. It adds up,” she said stepping back.

  “At the rates they pay? You’ve been selling live recordings of me again, haven’t you?”

  She kept her face serene. “What if I have? It’s not as if you’d notice.”

  “I do. How do you think I feel knowing millions of androids watch my every move? It’s creepy. It’s degrading. You’ve no right.”

  “I’ve every right living with a freak like you.”

  “
Oh, now I’m a freak?”

  “Freak. Flesher. Does it matter what we call you? You’re the only one left. Did you know that? Grace Brown died earlier this morning.”

  He was the last one, the last human on Earth. An android may have the precise neuro-glial mapped, but its body changed its personality in many small ways. He was the last human, period. He wouldn’t last much longer. A year at the most.

  She was still ranting. “... plain greedy. That’s what you are. All that water, food and energy just to keep you alive. What do you give back in terms of Earth’s resources? Virtually nothing. You’re useless, absolutely useless. And then there’s your so-called lifestyle. Listening to all those analogue recordings of music.”

  “Enough. You were human once, remember?”

  “Ugh. I wish I didn’t. Come to think of it, I’ve no use for those records. I might as well delete them to free up some mem-space.” She paused. “There, done.”

  Sven stared at her. Anneka had, on a whim, destroyed their twenty-two years together from childhood, through school and university, their wedding… he meant nothing to her now. Nothing at all.

  No, that wasn’t right. He was her gateway to paying for her upgrades. Their marriage had devolved to cold hard money.

  Her wipe-out had destroyed his last link to humanity. He was alone. Nobody to talk to. No one to understand him. Alone, now and forever. He might as well be dead.

  What right had she to cut him off? How would she like it if he blocked her comms link with androidom? She’d be alone then. Sven stepped closer to her and raised his hand.

  He stopped. This wasn’t him. It was his anger. He had to get away. Sven strode passed her out of their house, slamming the back door.

  Squishing his eyes to counter the sun’s glare, he unhooked sunglasses from his belt and put them on. Their shades blocked enough sunlight, but glints from the lake lasered through.

  His eyes were pushed towards the rowing boat knocking against the jetty. The bumps relieved his nerves, tensed from the androids’ background hum. He had become so used to the hum, he hardly heard it anymore. Exceptions were moments like these, or the hum turning any music into cacophony. He had to get away from the hum as well as Anneka, fast.