The Forever Quest (The Forever Series Book 4)

by Craig Robertson

  “This ass is really out. Oh well, a passed out prisoner is better than an awake one, at least for now. Tell the captain his newest crewman is still sleeping like a baby. I’ll check back on him later.”

  The other fellow grunted in agreement. I heard his footsteps fade down the hall. From the generally increased level of movement in the ship, I figured the next visit to check on me would be in the morning, ship’s time.

  Sure enough, bright and early, three figures peered through the crack in the door.

  A new voice said, “Here, hand me that.”

  The next thing I knew, the SOB dumped a bucket of dirty water on my head. What is it with ships and buckets of dirty water? Why do sailors everywhere swab so much? Anyway, he must have decided that whatever drugs I’d been given should be out of my system by then. So, awaken I did. Personally, I think I put on a masterful performance. I coughed, I gagged, and I gasped. Someone should have put me on holo. I was that good.

  “All right, cupcake,” the authoritative voice yelled, “nappy-nappy is over. It’s time you started earning your keep.” He kicked me in the stomach for extra measure.

  Nice guy! I’d keep that in mind when payback time rolled around.

  After enhancing my acting with a cry of painful protestation, I staggered to my feet uncertainly. “I’m up, I’m up, you son of a bitch.”

  That earned me a punch in the mouth.

  “Come on,” Ned said to me with a shove, “let’s get you deloused and dressed in a proper uniform.”

  We went to a large communal bathroom, and Ned ordered me to take off my clothes. He was not, I’ll say straight away, on the list of people I wished would order me to strip naked and shower. In a few minutes, I was showered and dressed in what he seemed to think was a uniform. It was a dingy green, baggy jumpsuit. No emblems or markings, just ugly. When I met Ned’s criteria for preparedness, he pushed me down a set of corridors to the captain’s quarters.

  Ned knocked gently, placed a finger under my nose, and said, “You mind how you act. We’ve little invested in you, so throwing you out the nearest window wouldn’t be much of a loss.” He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “I’m guessing one in four of you scumbags do end up floating home, so weigh that prospect against your desire to lash out. This’ll be your only warning. Through these doors, whatever’s left of your life begins.”

  “Come,” came from the captain’s side of the door.

  Ned grabbed his hat and roughly balled it up in his hands as the door slid open. He put a hand on my shoulder and heaved me in. The captain was reclined on an over-stuffed chair. This was the first good look I had of him. He was definitely humanoid. Crap, he actually looked human, which was impossible, so he couldn’t be. If he had been human, he would have looked like he was in his late thirties. Six feet tall, give or take, and well-muscled. In fact, the best description I could give was that he looked like an actor in a beer commercial. Too good to be true, unless you drank that particular brand. Unlike a pampered pretty boy, however, there was a dangerous edge to the man. He exuded confidence, yes, but also ruthlessness and a generalized-contempt. His hands said it all. They were tough, working hands. A captain with calloused hands was a force to be reckoned with.

  “Leave us, Ned,” the captain said softly.

  Ned crushed his hat and fidgeted. “Are you sure, Cap? This one’s still pretty green.”

  “I’m sure. He doesn’t look like much to me. Run of the mill drunk with better than expected teeth. That’s all I see.” He turned to glare at Ned. “I’m not proud to say this man’s first exposure to onboard discipline is my second mate questioning my orders.”

  Ned was properly intimidated. I could tell from his reaction, he may have respected the captain, but he mostly feared him. To his credit, Ned didn’t piss himself, but I’m betting it wasn’t by much.

  “Sorry, Cap. My apologies. I’ll be on the bridge if you need anything.”

  “I’ll call for you shortly,” he angled his head at me, “after I’ve welcome the fresh meat.”

  Ned gesticulated as he backed out the door.

  The captain eased back in his chair and stretched. “That went poorly. So, do you have a name, drunkard, or shall I assign you one?”

  “You’re the captain, Cap. Your call.”

  “Ah. A smartass. How refreshingly different in a new conscript. I haven’t heard such disrespect since, oh, I don’t know, the last man standing in your very spot.”

  “They stamp us out of a mold on Cholarazy, sir.”

  “Did I mention the last fellow’s stay with us was tragically brief? Not five minutes into this interview I granted his wish to go home. I doubt he made it without a ship, a suit, or a prayer of a chance. Say, would you like to go check and see how he’s doing?”

  The man was serious. “No, sir. I’m fine right here. My name’s Jon Ryan.”

  “Better. I am Captain Karnean Beckzel. Please think of me as your new god. While whatever deity you worshiped heretofore may have technically steered your fate, I do so actually. People say I’m not a nice man behind my back. You know what, Jon? They’re right. Don’t cross me, don’t anger me, and don’t ever, ever fuck with me. Those are the rules. They’re really quite simple and easy to remember.”

  “Sir.” At least for the time being, I’d be a good little prisoner.

  “Do you have any questions?”

  “Just one, sir. What’s my role here?”

  “I should say a man as quick-witted as you knows that answer, Jon. You’re not fucking with me, are you?”

  “No, sir. I just want to know my place.”

  He bobbled his head back and forth with a small frown. “Fair enough. As you’re new, I’ll grant you the benefit of the doubt, this once. You, Jon, are now the lucky participant in a voyage of wonder and profit. Though the journey will be long, the work arduous, and your pay nominal, you will, before the trip is ended, thank me for allowing you to join our happy crew.”

  “You mean I’m shanghaied.”

  “I’m not familiar with that term, but I assume it fits your present condition.”

  “Why not just offer me a fair contract in the first place, sir? I was slumming in that rat hole of a planet begging for work.”

  “You look to me to be a seasoned sailor, Jon. Am I correct in that assumption?”

  “Yes, sir. As seasoned as they come.” Boy, did he not know the half of it.

  “Then I assumed correctly that if I made you an honest offer, you’d have laughed in my face and hightailed it to the nearest bar.”

  “Doesn’t sound promising, sir. Since I’m here for the duration, could you enlighten me as to why I would have laughed in your face?”

  “I like you, Jon. Yes, I’ll admit it, I like you already. You’re clever enough to knuckle under but prideful enough to still tiptoe along my line in the sand. The truth of the matter is this. Our ship is committed to a voyage many would label ludicrous, ill-advised, and far too risky. It will be longer than most merchant shuttles by a large margin. It will be more dangerous by an even wider margin. But for me, it will be profitable enough to justify those risks. Experience has taught me that finding sailors willing to volunteer for this type of voyage is not worth the effort. The only ones who’d sign-on, trust me, are the ones nobody would want to sail with.”

  “Where are we bound?” Not that I’d know the place, but I think he wanted me to ask.

  “Sir,” was his response.

  “We’re sailing for a place called Sir?”

  “No, and this will be the last disrespect I tolerate. You failed to end your query with the word sir.”

  I lowered my head slightly. “Where are we bound, sir?”

  “Better. First, we sail for Pallolo. There we will pick up merchandise to deliver to our final destination, Deerkon.”

  I was right. The words meant nothing to me. I checked Kymee’s list. Neither was on it, at least not under those names. “Sound fine to me, Captain. Where’s my bunk?”
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  Karnean sat forward, supporting himself with one leg on the floor. “Fine? You’re fine with Deerkon? I warned you, yet you fuck with me still.”

  “Easy, Captain. What? I don’t mind sailing for Deerkon, Pallolo, or the gates of hell if there’s a profit in it for me. Hey, the greater the risk, the greater the reward, am I right?”

  He stared hard at me. I could tell he was deciding whether to deep-six me or shake my hand. Fortunately, my endearing charm must have won him over. “You are a greater fool than even I am, Jon. Perhaps I’d have been better off leaving you in your rat hole?”

  “Time will tell, sir.”

  He rested back stiffly in his chair. “Two lefts, then a right. That’ll get you to the bridge. Tell Ned that you live at least one more day. He’ll show you to your quarters. Welcome aboard Desolation. Dismissed.”

  “Sir.”

  Desolation? The ship’s name was Desolation? That had to be the worst name for a ship I’d ever heard.

  I didn’t back out the door like Ned had. No, I walked out like a stud. I had to keep tiptoeing that line, now didn’t I?

  So, I was kidnapped to be the unwilling crew on a ship undertaking a foolhardy mission. My captain was a sociopath who ran his merchant ship like it a military vessel. Yup, there could be only one explanation. Karnean was a pirate. And anyone who’d pay a pirate’s price to transport merchandise was either a major idiot or truly someone I didn’t want to meet. I was inclined to favor the latter notion, based on my experience in this life. I was in a bad situation that was about to get a hell of a lot worse. Same circus, just different monkeys.

  I entered the bridge, which gave me my first clue as to what kind of ship I was on. I stepped up to the view screen and craned my neck as far I could. Okay, not a bad ship. It was no Shearwater, but not bad either. The body of the vessel was shaped like a cigar cut off at the back. She was medium sized. Along the sides were mounts for missiles, and all were loaded. Looked like conventional warheads, but I couldn’t tell for certain. One thing was certain. She packed a lot more punch than a merchant ship ever would. Yeah, it had maybe as much as, say, a pirate would need.

  Quickly one of the bridge crew challenged me. That caught Ned’s attention. He called off the crewman and waved me over.

  “So, you survived the interview process. Good. We need more able-bodied sailors. Cap’s tough on newbies. Tosses a lot out before they get a chance to prove their worth. Be aware of that. Just because he didn’t kill you doesn’t mean he won’t.” Ned shook his head. “Cap’s a good man. Tough but fair. You work hard and don’t cause no trouble, and he’ll do right by you. Half the crew were in your boots at some point. Don’t hold no grudges toward him. He’ll know, and you’ll regret it about one second too late. Has a sixth sense like that, he does.

  “I’ll tell you this. There’s no man I’d rather serve under in a pinch. He’s bold, cunning, and, what’s more important, he’s one lucky bastard. First mate’s just as sharp, though she’s a good bit better lookin’ than her brother.”

  “The captain’s sister is his first mate? That’s nuts.”

  “Wait till you see her in action before you say that. She’s good. Trust me, I’ve seen a lot in my day.” He checked to see if anyone could be listening in. “Better stick to business. Come with me and I’ll show you to your bunk.”

  “Bunk? I thought I heard Karnean mention something about quarters. I don’t get a room?”

  “Ha. Would you listen to yourself? You think the lowest of the low gets his own stateroom? Bhah! You get a bunk, and you’ll appreciate that much. I was on this ship five years, no six, before I got a room to myself.”

  We’d arrived at a hatch leading into a large common room. There were metal tables with bench seating near what had to be the mess window. He showed me the adjoining sleeping quarters. Twenty bunks, ten on each side of the room, stacked two-high. How very nautical. The head was attached to the barracks. Spartan best described the facilities.

  “You’re in bunk eight.” Ned pointed to an upper one. “Used to belong to a bloke named Riley. He won’t be needing it anymore.”

  “Why? He get promoted?”

  “Not hardly. Poor son of a bitch. No, he crossed a line and paid the price he knew he’d have to pay.”

  “Let me guess. He pissed off Karnean.”

  “Worse,” Ned lowered his voice. “He put the moves on his sister. She’s more off limits than the powder room is to a man on fire.”

  “You’re shitting me, right?”

  “No. Don’t even think about her like a woman. You’ll live a lot longer.”

  “No, I meant, we have a powder room? What, twenty-four pound cannon too?”

  “Joke if you will. But I’m serious about Kayla. Only Ned’s kind enough to warn you either. The lot of sharks here love seeing someone get caught trying to sample the wares.”

  “I’m sure I’ll not be tempted.”

  “Good. Stay that way after you see her, and I’ll buy you a drink. Now, come with me. I’ll show you your jobs and let them what’s in charge know who y’are.”

  Guess what jobs I got? Chef, pilot, fire-control for any battles? No. I swabbed decks, helped slop the mess to the crew, and, oh boy of oh boys, I got to clean the heads. Yeah, I was so honored. I’d saved humanity more times than I could count, currently held the rank of general, and had logged more hours in command than everyone on this scow combined, and I got to make sure the bathrooms sparkled. I looked forward to the time I could lay bored in my bunk and pretend to sleep.

  The one benefit of being on cleaning detail was that I could go everywhere onboard and not get yelled at. Over my first few days of scut work, I catalogued the ship, its provisions, and what little cargo it carried. Whatever we were to deliver to this awful Deerkon place must be waiting on Pallolo. I did look forward to checking those crates and getting a sense for what Karnean was up to.

  A word to the wise regarding cleaning. Things had to be clean enough to not get myself in trouble but not too clean as to keep me on the duty a day longer than necessary.

  Slopping mess, well that was a job there was but one way to do. Work like hell prepping stuff so no cook whacked me with a ladle. And when serving, never look into the crew member’s eyes. That way they can’t accuse you of shorting them out of spite. Sure, no meal would pass without some asshole barking and posturing because he or she didn’t get their share, but they couldn’t claim it was personal, so I didn’t get in trouble, or at least as much trouble as I could have.

  Most of the crew were the same kind of humanoids. Like the captain, they sure looked human. That included their private parts and habits, which I was an involuntary witness to in the head and communal showers. TMI, but it perplexed me. What were the chances that an alien race was so similar to the human race? And I’m not just talking on the outside here. I mentioned before I was equipped with a rudimentary ultrasound system. Toño figured, long ago, it might be useful in the exploration mission I was built to carry out. It allowed me to scan some of the crew, and they were human on the inside too. Weird. What else is new in my life? Take a number and wait your turn, mysteries of the unknown.

  It wasn’t until my fourth day onboard that I caught a glimpse of the first mate, Kayla. Ned was not kidding. She was stunning. Tall, sinewy frame with long black hair up in a knot. She moved with the grace of a model and the confidence of a reigning monarch. And she had those eyes us guys get all gaga over and want to lose ourselves in forever. I could understand why that Riley guy took a chance with her. She might just have been worth it. But, as an android I could make myself immune to her. I was on a covert recon mission way deep in enemy territory. I was thinking with my big head, not my little one. What? I could be focused, dedicated, and smart when it came to beautiful women. Really, I could be—you know, if I set my mind to it.

  Lucky for me, I was perfectly invisible to First Officer Beckzel. Fate would not tempt me because I didn’t exist. I guess pretty girls learned early to avoid
eye-contact with men. If they didn’t, they’d never get anything done. They’d be too busy fending of one advance after another by guys who thought she was interested only because their gazes met.

  Did I mention Kayla's lips? Wow. They were plump, looked soft as clouds in the sky, and were as red as a purest rose.

  I wasn’t allowed access to the computers, being the lowest swabbie. Fortunately, I didn’t need permission to access every scrap of data the ship had. Thank you, yet again, Kymee. I learned some interesting facts exploring the computer systems. We were bound for Pallolo. It was a planet a few light-years away, so the journey would take four years. Crap. I was putting more time into this project than I anticipated. If nothing panned out, I’d have a decade of egg on my face. Lucky for me I was immortal.

  We were picking up a lot of technical equipment on Pallolo. It seemed like we’d be carrying enough to build a university and then some. We were also picking up thermonuclear weapons, large laser arrays, and tons—literally—of intoxicants, drugs, and psychoactive compounds. One was something named gofenterate. It was designed to keep the user awake for as long as they took the stuff. Soldier juice.

  What I found out about Deerkon was bone-chilling. It was a hellhole, yes. A ruthless megalomaniac ruled it, to be sure. But the scale and extent of the atrocities I read about were staggering. Our contact was a guy named Varrank Simzle. He was up there with the Berrillians and the Listhelons in terms of horrific brutality. He lacked their technical tools—FTL speed and folding space, that sort of stuff—but what he lacked in sophistication he more than made up for in rage and cruelty. No wonder Karnean accused me of being flippant when I said I didn’t mind going there. The devil himself would have thought twice about a trip to Deerkon, as would any rational person. My captain seemed rational. That meant he was very greedy and over-confident about his ability to remain among the living. Oh boy.

  With access to the computers, I was able to determine where Deerkon was on Kymee’s list. I immediately wished I hadn’t looked it up. The Deavoriath called the planet Kolidar. Here’s what Kymee wrote:

  Avoid this planet, and the solar system for that matter. At the height of our power and lust, we went there only once and never returned. It is a cursed world. In a matter of a few short months, we lost hundreds of thousands of soldiers. Some were lost in battles with tribes we should have dominated completely. Most died invisibly and their bodies never found. I believe the planet itself is home to or possessed by an evil spirit. I realize how childish that sounds, but that, I believe, should be sufficient reason for you to not venture to Kolidar. If Uto is there, he is dead.