The Magellan Apocalypse: Map Runners

by Arthur Byrne

  Four more of the Navereen who had planned on taking the same route changed their minds. They took up positions behind the huge presses.

  The injured alien had been dragged out of sight. PJ couldn’t tell where his buddy was, or if he was one of the four now taking shots at PJ’s position. A blast came from the doorway, which meant there were at least five in the room, possibly six, one injured, and an unknown number still in the hall. With the two he’d gotten with the rifle, he knew their total numbers were down by seven.

  A flurry of enemy fire covered two more Navereen bolting down the stairs for the position of the others. Then the shooting stopped. He could tell they were gathered together, no doubt working on their next plan of attack.

  ***

  Nash and the men behind him hadn’t run across even a hint of danger, and they were moving at a good clip. There were sections along the way that weren’t nearly as bad as he remembered, and he picked up the pace when he could.

  Holly had been updating him every ten minutes with the same report: “No word from PJ.”

  They arrived at the duck hole in only eighty-two minutes. The master-at-arms started giving instructions but Nash said, “Quiet. I think I hear something.”

  Everyone went silent. The unmistakable sounds of a battle echoed up from below. Nash leaned into the hole and turned on his light. “It’s clear. We jump.”

  Nash went first and landed with a loud bang. He moved to the door. The next man jumped, then the next, and soon they were all down, without any injuries.

  Tong sent four men left, and the rest followed him to the right. The sound of a huge explosion vibrated through the hall.

  ***

  Frank stood at the window, watching the crowd outside. He clenched one of the fliers that had been plastered to the outside of the closed gate. He had ordered that it remained closed at both ends for extra security, but his move had pissed off someone. He wasn’t sure why.

  Fiel knocked. He knew it was her before she even got to the door. The sound of his sister’s leather boots and confident gait were unique.

  “Come in, Fiel.”

  “I just received a report from the supervisor in tracking. It seems the master-at-arms and his team entered the duck hole five minutes ago. Communications cut out less than a minute later. The last sound that came through was a muffled explosion.”

  “Have you seen this?” he said and threw the flier across his desk.

  Fiel read the headline aloud. “Time for a Change. Time for an Election” and then dropped it back on his desk. “Where was it?”

  “There are about a hundred pasted to the gate. Have a look at this,” he said and turned back to the window.

  Fiel stood next to her brother in silence. “It seems the rumblings were true.”

  “Yes. It’s a pity you couldn’t have brought it to my attention a little sooner.”

  “Don’t get snippy with me or I’ll join them.”

  “I’m in no mood for your bitchiness today. If you’ve nothing more to add to your report, then...dismissed.”

  Holly appeared at the door, breathless. “I’ve got communications up with Nash. I was able to boost the signal by...”

  Frank turned and said, “Where is your supervisor? And why aren’t you at your post?”

  “Oh, um, I don’t know, she stepped out. I thought you’d want to know right away, so Sarah stepped in.”

  “When you see supervisor McMillan, please send her up. Dismissed.”

  Holly gave a crisp turn and disappeared down the hall.

  Frank turned back to the crowd and said to Fiel, “Can you read what the signs say?”

  “No.”

  “They’re up in arms about the pregnancy law.”

  “I told you they were...”

  “I’m well aware of what you told me. I was just pointing out that we’ve arrived exactly where you said we would be when you woke me up yesterday. The problem is we didn’t have time to implement your plan.”

  “It’s not too late.”

  “I can’t catch a break. I mean, if the Navereen had just gotten him before he could call in for help, I’d be able to let one of those ungrateful bastards have a kid and everyone would be happy. If they decide to get out of hand, we don’t have many options.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “All but four of the guards went on that damn rescue mission. It will be at least a couple of hours before they get back. Who knows what could happen before then?”

  “Dear brother, you’re not seeing the gilded forest for the trees.”

  “I don’t follow.”

  “I know, you lead, but it’s a good thing I’m here.”

  “I meant...”

  “I know what you meant. What I’m saying is you just sent your troops into battle, and regardless of whether they find PJ alive or not, you did your best to save him. Carpe diem, commander.”

  “How?”

  “You just need to go down to the balcony and tell them the that the team has reached the site.”

  “And then what?”

  “That we as a community need to stick together and pray for the men who are fighting to save PJ. That should take the wind out of their sails.”

  ***

  Nash and Tong had reached the door first. Nash signaled, and the master-at-arms opened it. A group of Navereen were huddled behind some heavy pieces of equipment. Smoke billowed from the right, and something appeared to be burning. Nash entered, moved to the left, crouched down, raised his weapon, and fired. Tong was right behind him. The four aliens all went down.

  The rest of the rescue team was close behind and secured the room. Nash found the one injured Navereen and said, “Tong, we’ve got a survivor.”

  PJ called out from behind the smoke. “Nash, is that you?”

  Nash, without taking his eyes off the injured alien, said, “I was just out for a stroll and thought I’d check up on you. How’s the mapping going?”

  “I found a couple of hallways, a big room, and some Navereen. They blew up my fort. You got a ladder with you?”

  The master-at-arms said to one of his men, “See to PJ,” and then turned to Nash, raised his weapon, and said, “I’ve got this.”

  Nash said, “Hold your fire.”

  Two of the other guards joined them, and one said, “Kill the bastard.”

  “Look at him. He’s injured, no weapon, obviously scared, and his brothers in arms are all dead.”

  Tong said, “Who cares? I just want to get out of here.”

  Nash looked at him and asked, “Why’s that?”

  “Because it’s scary as shit out here.”

  “It is, I know. I’ve spent half my life out here. But this poor bastard, he’s been here for ten years. Think about that. He boarded the Magellan ten years ago because he was ordered to do so, his ship was destroyed, and he was stuck. You don’t think he has family somewhere?

  “What’s more, the guys he’s been surviving with for the last decade—his friends, comrades—they all just died. And he’s got a nasty wound in his side. He’s had a bad day.” Nash turned to one of the guards and asked, “Did you search the others?”

  “No.”

  “Well, do it and lay the bodies out with a little respect. You got that, soldier?”

  “Yes sir.”

  The two guards went to do as they were told. Tong said, “They’re the enemy.”

  “They’re soldiers, and for all we know the Magellan passed into their space and we scared the shit out of them.”

  Tong said, “It sounds like you found religion out here.”

  “Maybe,” Nash said and pulled out a water bottle, took out the connector for his suit, and gave it a little squirt on the floor before he set it down.

  The guards returned and said, “They’ve got a lot of strange-looking gear.”

  “Could you eat any of it?” Nash asked.

  “What?”

  “Did they have any food with them?”

  “I didn’t
see any.”

  PJ came up and smacked Nash on the back. “You pulled my butt out of the fire on this one. I thought I was done for.”

  “How much air you have left?”

  “About twelve minutes.”

  There wasn’t any question that Nash was in charge. The master-at-arms almost seemed relieved. Nash said, “Tong, we need to get him to the charging station. Have your men grab what they can of the alien gear and get back up the duck hole. After they get PJ set, have all of them plug in and top their tanks off.”

  The master-at-arms gave a nod to the two guards, who did as they were told. He said, “We should hurry, who knows how many of his friends might still be around.”

  “PJ, how long was the firefight?”

  “I don’t know, over an hour at least.”

  “Then I think we can assume all of his friends are dead, or they would have joined the fight. You got your gear, PJ?”

  “Yep, right here.”

  Nash opened the bag and pulled out all of the food and water. He set it on the ground next to the injured alien and gave it a nod.

  “Let’s move out.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  As they walked back to the gate, Nash had a lot of time to think. Maybe he had found religion, or maybe, for the first time in a decade, he was starting to get a tiny glimpse of the big picture.

  Still, there were more questions than answers. The level below the duck hole hadn’t been breached, or there wouldn’t be any air. It may not have been safe for humans, but the aliens seemed fine down there.

  Holly came on his comm and said, “What’s your ETA on arrival?”

  “It’s just ETA.”

  “What?”

  “The ‘a’ means arrival.”

  “What’s your estimated time of arrival...arrival.”

  Nash smiled but not so that she could hear it in his voice. “Where did you learn to be such smart-ass?”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “We’ll be at the gate in sixty-three minutes. Now get out of my ear.”

  “Roger, over and out...out.”

  It had been over a month since he had run across the strange little repair robot, but he thought about it now. If there was a robot running amuck making completely useless repairs—the baseboards in a public restroom that was otherwise destroyed, a new set of lights in an abandoned movie theater, a single door in a housing complex that hadn’t had a resident in ten years—maybe there was hope for the Magellan. It was a thought he’d tried to avoid for years because hope was antithetical to survival when drifting through the wretched emptiness of space. Nash had tried to avoid thinking of the droids which existed to patch up fighters when they returned from battle or of the armies of robots whose job was repairing the hull damage that intra-galaxy travel tended to bring.

  At his core, he wanted only to fly again. To do that, he needed to get back to his squadron base. Of course, Nash had given up hope that any of the pilots he called friends were still alive. If even a handful had made it through the battle from any of the squadrons, there would be patrols. In ten years he hadn’t seen a single ship.

  Thirty minutes out, they were in the zone where the environmental sensors read green across the board. Nash said, “Tong, I’m going to go check on something since we’re here. Continue on without me.”

  “But won’t the commander want to see you right away?”

  “Yes he will, which is another reason to take a detour. Don’t worry, I spend half my life out here. I’ll be fine.”

  Tong put his hand on Nash’s arm. They let the rest of the group continue on, and when they were out of earshot he said, “I just wanted to thank you for handling things back there. I’m not really suited for this military stuff. Heck, I was in charge of the fork lift crew before the attack.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Like I said, this is more my world than back at 37. I’ll see you when I get back.”

  “I’ll buy you a beer at Hal’s.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Nash took the stairs two at a time. “Holly, you there?”

  “Yes, how’s it going?”

  “I’m going to go check on something that’s been bothering me.”

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s probably nothing. I’ll be back tonight.”

  “How long are you going to be?”

  “I haven’t had a curfew for years, and I’m not going to start now.”

  “You got a date, Nash?”

  “Maybe I do.”

  “What’s she look like?”

  “She turns the heads of all the guys, and turns the smiles of the girls...to frowns.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “I’ll let you know as soon as I think of one. Nash out.”

  Nash turned off his comm and removed his helmet. The next forty minutes was along a path that was relatively normal looking compared to the rest of the ship.

  When Nash said it was nothing, he meant it. At the end of the stretch was a double security door that required a password and retina scan.

  It led to a massive computer chip manufacturing facility that hadn’t been breached by Navereen or scavengers. He had been here many times before.

  A manager’s office, a walk-in safe, and two conference rooms overlooked the floor. For the last few years, Nash had turned it into his own little secret hiding place. The manager’s office had the most comfortable couch he’d ever slept on, a small kitchen, and a computer with a crazy number of games on its server.

  He had extra supplies of everything he would ever need if cargo bay life ever got unbearable. He estimated there was a year’s worth of canned food and MREs. The sink had running water, but to be safe he had over 500 bottles of his own. The personal armory he had created in Conference Room Two made the one at 37 look woefully inadequate.

  It was Conference Room One where he spent most of his time. Before the attack, if he wanted to know where something was on the Magellan and how to get there, he would call it up on the uni-holo HUD he wore on his right eye.

  The device would project a hologram of the ship in front of him. He could use voice commands to find an area, then zoom in with his hands and, once he found where he wanted to go, all he had to do was say “plot.”

  The hologram would suggest several walking routes if the location was close or show him the best combination of Magnetic High Speed Transport (MHST) to take and a precise estimate of how close to the destination he would be when he disembarked.

  It was the ultimate map.

  Nash figured the servers for the uni-holo HUDs must have been destroyed because he hadn’t gotten his or any others that he had found to work. That was the point of the map runners: to manually figure out the maze of the ship and which parts were still functioning. Nash never liked how Frank wouldn’t let anyone study his map, so he started building his own in conference room one.

  The walls were covered in pictures of the Magellan he had found on his runs. On the table, he had piles of drawings with as much detail as he could find about each section he had scouted. Nash had excelled at drafting in high school, and though his map wasn’t as good as a hologram, the exercise brought him comfort. He estimated that his map on that table represented less than one percent of the ship. He liked to imagine the rest of the ship stretched out through the window and over the production floor. It helped him with perspective.

  According to his maps, by taking a route that was almost entirely in areas that had breathable air, he could make it about 3.5 kilometers in the direction of his old squadron, which left him short by twenty.

  His secondary goal was the closest launch port for any type of ship, and that was the long-range attack bomber squadron 20. There were only two kilometers of air-safe route in that direction, but that got him to within just ten kilometers of the launch port. Unfortunately, six of those kilometers were up, which would make for a long climb. Functioning elevators were a rarity and were often traps set by the scavengers.

&nb
sp; Nash got to work drafting the area down the duck hole that he’d seen, and he sketched a rough drawing of the halls that PJ had described. He spent over an hour adding as much detail as he could recall, including the parts destroyed during the battle.

  When he was done, he put it on the table. Nash had a list of locations he wanted to map. Frank was not open to suggestions, so each time he went on a run, he divided his time between the assigned sections and his personal list. It was easy before he had a tracker. Now he was going to have to figure a way around Holly watching his every move. It wouldn’t be easy.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Frank had donned his dress blues and stood on the balcony before the crowd. He waited as a few people hurled insults and demanded answers. His stoic silence won out.

  He said, “Earlier today, we received a distress call from Mapper PJ Garnett, who was in a tight spot. I immediately dispatched the commander of the city guard along with Fristion Nash, our most senior and most knowledgeable runner.”

  Not a sound could be heard from the crowd. The commander’s tone was solemn, and he knew they feared the worst. That was by design. He continued, “We have received a report from the field, and I’d like to read it to you now.

  Arrived at duck hole and descended to lower deck. A battle was underway when we arrived. We were able to catch the Navereen off-guard and eliminate the threat. Map runner PJ Garnett has been found uninjured. We are returning to base.”

  The crowd erupted with cheers. Frank took it in for a moment and then raised his hand. “I know many of you have concerns, and we have all been living in a rather small area for a long time, so it is natural that there is some measure of unhappiness.”

  The murmurs among those gathered seemed to agree.

  “At first, our goal was to survive after the attack. Through your hard work, we have built a functioning oasis on the Magellan, and for that I applaud your efforts.

  “I have been forced to make some tough decisions regarding population control in order to prevent our food production capacity from becoming incapable of sustaining the population. I know you understand this, but it doesn’t make life any easier.