Spaced

by Greg Curtis

  This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialog are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright © 2016 Greg Curtis

  Published by Tickety Boo Press Ltd

  www.ticketyboopress.co.uk

  Edited by Siobhan Marshall-Jones

  Cover Art by Gary Compton

  Book Design by Big River Press Ltd

  Spaced

  by

  Greg Curtis

  Published by Tickety Boo Press Ltd

  Thanks to my family without whose help and belief nothing would be possible

  Chapter One

  “Raise the field!” Carm yelled at the ship as he made it to the bridge, then collapsed into the command chair and cried out in pain.

  “Arrrgh! Sharding hell!” he swore. The timag strut lodged in his shoulder had moved and the laser burns were excruciatingly painful.

  Once the adrenaline wore off it was only going to get worse. He wasn't sure how he'd made it back. All he really knew was that he'd had to run. Run like there was a nova on his tail. And keep running.

  “Carmichael—” the ship started

  “I said raise the damned field!”

  This time he bellowed the order, both scared and desperate. It was this or death. He knew that. How could he not know that when not only had the cops come bursting into his office, shooting and killing his receptionist, but then they'd kept shooting at him even when he'd tried to surrender. That damned policebot wanted him dead! He could only assume that the rest of the Aquarian Law Enforcement Bureau did too. Why, he still didn’t know.

  “Carmichael you need urgent medical assistance. And it's affecting your thinking. You know I can't raise the field on the ground. That's madness!”

  “No, madness is staying here waiting for the police to come and blow this ship apart!” Carm yelled. “They're going to kill me! Now raise the sharding field and that's an order!”

  The ship finally did as he commanded, and a few seconds later he watched the sub-atomic polarization field being displayed on the holo. Followed instantly by any number of red and yellow lights flashing across the bridge consoles. It wasn't the field itself that was malfunctioning or threatening to. Raising the field was the first step in engaging the translation drive – which couldn’t happen on the ground.

  The ship was right. To engage the drive while still berthed at a space-port was madness. It was madness cubed. Drives were only ever used in deep space where it was safe. But more than that they had no translation coordinates for the space-port. If they jumped they weren’t just jumping blind as they did every time they went exploring, they jumped completely wild. Even if they survived, they would have no direction home. Naturally the ship reminded him of that.

  “Carmichael, you're obviously suffering severe blood loss and not thinking clearly. This is highly dangerous. Activating the translation drive within an atmosphere will cause an explosion. Potentially a large one, too. Plus the interaction between the drive and the gravitational field might destroy the ship. The power overloads will be immense. Are you sure your judgement hasn't been affected?”

  The ship desperately started going through a detailed explanation of why Carm’s intention was madness. It even started compiling a list of all the dangers. But Carm wasn't listening. He knew what the risks were, as well as everything that could and would go wrong. He’d seen it displayed in the holo as people surrounding the Nightingale ran away in terror. They understood what was happening.

  There was a panic in progress down there. Nearby ships were frantically being emptied of passengers and crew, and staff were fleeing with them. Throughout it all sirens wailed and emergency lights flashed. No one wanted to be near the Nightingale. The explosion could be enormous and if they were too close people could end up being jumped with him. Dangerous didn’t even begin to describe what he was about to do.

  But it wasn't a choice and so he gave the ship a few choice words about its daring to question him – even though that was its job.

  Normally the ship would have lifted away, heading for the safety of deep space long before jumping. But nothing about this day could be called normal, plus they couldn't lift anyway. The antigrav and the EM drive were powered by an antimatter reactor and that was down, and it would take hours to bring them online. Hours he didn't have. The police would have cut through the ship's hull long before then. And even if they hadn't the chances were that the space-port's own weapons, or worse the Navy, would shoot him down the instant he took to the skies. The Navy had probably already been told of the madman at New Andreas space-port.

  The odds were that some heavily armed ships were already racing towards them. Aquaria might be a minor world with no enemies, but it still had an efficient Navy. If nothing else they hunted down pirates and smugglers and, according to gossip, the occasional mutant, or “mutes” as they were generally called. The stars only knew what they'd do to terrorists as he was being called. Meanwhile the Nightingale was completely unarmed. No civilian ship was armed. They wouldn't survive the first salvo.

  There would be no negotiation No one was going to take any chances, especially not after he'd activated the field. But what choice did he have? They were going to kill him anyway. The locals would survive. It would take a few minutes to jump, meaning they had plenty of time to flee to safety. He had no safety.

  Instead of worrying about them Carm concentrated on his injuries, wiping some of the blood off his forehead and then checking to see how much more there was elsewhere. A lot was what he found. He was surprised he was still alive. Given that the entire front of his vest was soaked, he knew things couldn’t be too good. There was a reason his hands were bone white – there was no blood left in them. He was in a bad way. But right now he couldn’t do anything about it.

  Carm turned his attention to the piece of timag reinforcing strut sticking out of him. He hadn't had a chance to study it until then. To see how it connected so intimately with his flesh. He'd been running for what seemed like hours. But now he was starting to feel the pain. When the policebot had shoved the crude piece of timag into his body before hurling him out a fourth floor window, he’d barely registered the pain, nor in the subsequent chase with the bot continuing to fire at him. Now the pain was off the charts.

  He had been lucky to even make the ship. The only thing which had saved his life was that the pursuing bot had been damaged in the fall from the window, limping on its huge mechanical legs while firing blindly. None of the shots had hit him, but some had come close enough to scorch him. At least one had burnt him quite badly. He'd also been lucky that his office was on the periphery of the New Andreas space-port. But that hadn't helped anyone else. His memories of those three nightmarish klicks he'd spent running madly included the panicked cries of people as they'd desperately tried to avoid the policebot’s indiscriminate laser fire. Objects and buildings had been bursting into flames and exploding on all sides.

  What was wrong with these people? They were supposed to be police! That was the thought that kept coming back to him. This whole thing made no sense. First it was insanity that they could imagine he was some kind of terrorist, or believe he'd bombed the city's hydroponic reserve. Why would he do such a thing? He was a sharding geologist! He didn't even spend a lot of time on Aquaria. It had to be a mix up. But the bot hadn't given him any time to explain. It had shot first and hadn’t bothered until later to inform him what he was accused of.

  The manner of his arrest also made no sense. He would have expected that a couple of police officers would have shown up and led him away in restraints. But to simply open fire on him as he sat in his office?! There had been no warning, or no reading of his rights.
They hadn’t even opened the door but had simply fired on him through the wall. They couldn’t have known whether he was there or not, whether he had people with him. They could have killed anyone. They had killed his receptionist. Murdered her! That was simply wrong. And the one thing that had saved his life was the damned mercantile award. That annoyed him.

  He'd always hated that award. He'd thought it an insult to an extra-solar geologist that he should be given an award for business acumen. He had a PhD for shard’s sake! Not to mention advanced certificates in astro-engineering and a full masters licence. Yet they’d awarded him a plaque for being a decent trader! Nevertheless the large copper plaque hanging in his front office had saved his life, taking the initial blasts of the policebot's weapon thus giving him time to realise what was happening and throw himself to one side. But for it, he would be a mass of cinders and burnt flesh. He was going to need some considerable time covered in the regenerative goo.

  But it was wrong to even think about that. Bree hadn't been so lucky, and the thought of her lifeless body lying there threatened his sanity. He choked up with tears.

  The memory of her lying there, covered in blood her body smoking a little, was painfully sharp. The shock and grief threatened what little remained of his sanity. She’d been a good woman. Stellar. She was a good friend too. Bree and her husband had often invited him to their home for meals. And if he'd had a true home instead of a spacer’s apartment he would have done the same for them. They’d had children! Children who now had no mother. That thought threatened to leave him a screaming wreck. How could he ever apologise to them? Because even though he'd done nothing wrong, this was still his fault somehow. He felt responsible.

  Bree had worked for him ever since he'd set up his business as an extra-solar geologist. She handled his clients and ran his office, doing everything he could have ever asked of a receptionist. And now she was dead, brutally mown down by the police. It wasn't right!

  Carm moved slightly, letting the memories engulf him while the piece of metal sticking out of his shoulder sent a spasm of pain through him and brought his attention back to his number one priority – surviving.

  “Ship, call the medbot for me.”

  “You think?”

  “Just do it!” Carm didn't need the ship's sarcasm just then, even though it had a point. Maybe I should have done that first he thought. As the ship was not so subtly pointing out that it had told him to do.

  “Doctor Simons.”

  A woman's voice came from out of nowhere, and even though he was sure she would be the police, he didn't care. He needed to try and make sense of things. He needed to at least tell someone he hadn't done what he was being accused of.

  “Ship, flash her up and put everything out on the mesh.” Immediately the woman's face appeared beside an image of the Nightingale sitting on the space-port charging its field. And, just as he'd expected, she was a cop. A detective, judging by the fact that she wore civilian attire with a badge clipped to her lapel.

  She looked like a cop too he mused, wryly. Neat dark close cropped hair that wouldn't get in the way, minimal make-up, no sign of cosmetic surgery and very obviously fit. The laser strapped to her side was another hint. Who else would be so armed?

  “Officer,” he greeted her politely – a habit he'd picked up long ago and which he couldn't seem to break even now. He could insult the ship until the stars fell down, and swear at a bot, but he couldn't be rude to a human being.

  “Turn off the field and surrender. You won't be harmed and you'll stand a fair trial. If you translate however – you know what'll happen.”

  “Are you sharding nuts, officer?! Would you like me to shoot myself in the head as well just to make your day a little easier?” Carm raised his voice a little in disbelief. He shouldn't have. But how could she even say such a thing after what her people had done? How could she think he’d believe her? She had all the wit of the lobotomised. Of course he knew what would happen if he jumped. He'd end up truly lost. Spaced. If he didn't die in the jump first, that was. But it was better than the certainty of being murdered. “You're trying to kill me!”

  “Don't be ridiculous! We're the police Doctor Simons. We don't kill people without cause! You'll be treated fairly and given your day in court. We always obey the law.”

  Was he hearing things, Carm wondered? Had she actually said that or was the blood loss simply making him think she had? Maybe the ship was right, because it was too crazy to be real. Pure dark side. Or then again did she know that this was going out on the mesh and so she knew she had to say the right things? And then the ship got involved.

  “Carmichael, you should listen to her. Try to be reasonable.”

  “I am being reasonable!” Carm gave up and screamed some more. “They're trying to kill me while I'm trying to survive! Now shut up and do your sharding job!”

  “And detective, tell that tissue of lies to Bree Chambers – the woman you people murdered!” Carm was in no mood for any more insanity. Looking at his console he saw that the field was seventy percent charged. He could jump soon.

  “We haven't killed anyone, Doctor!” The officer managed to look hurt while denying it.

  But Carm knew it was an act: It had to be. And he simply couldn't stand to think about what they'd done.

  “I saw her body behind your officers as they burst into my office and started shooting at me! Dear God I saw the blood! I saw the burning! Do you think I'm sharding blind?!”

  “Now Doctor Simons you're obviously upset—” the officer began, attempting to calm him down. But that just made Carm angrier.

  “Upset?” Carm screamed at her, surprised he still had the strength to do so, but adrenaline was coursing through his system. “Ship, wide angle!”

  In an instant the detective’s face was replaced by one of her and her officers in a control room. And at the same time Carm knew she would be seeing not just his face but his entire bridge. As well as the sharding piece of a building sticking out of him.

  “Does this look like upset?!”

  Maybe his words had an effect. She looked shocked seeing his injuries. But that could be an act too. As far as he was concerned she was about as trustworthy as a short circuit.

  “Doctor—”

  “No more doctor!” Carm lost a little more self-control and yelled at her. He would no doubt hate himself for it later. “You don't have the right to call me that after what you've done!”

  “Carmichael,” she tried a more personal approach but Carm wouldn't accept that.

  “No! Be quiet you evil mute! The first I knew of any of this was when your officers started shooting at me. Only a stupid copper plaque kept me from being killed. After that a damned policebot started yelling at me to surrender while still trying to kill me. I hid behind the desk while that sharding bot tore the rest of the door off. And I saw Bree lying there, her body still smoking! After that the damned bot started shouting at me again that I'd blown up some sharding hydroponics reserve, tossed my desk aside then stabbed me with a piece of the building and threw me out the window.

  “Why would I blow up a hydroponics reserve? I'm a sharding geologist! I spend half my life in space and the rest at the space-port. I don't even know where the reserves are!”

  “We can talk...”

  “You already tried that. I tried to surrender when your tin pot bot burst through the wall and started accusing me of this dark side crap. It stabbed me! I screamed at it that I was giving up and it stabbed me with a building! And then it hurled me out of a fourth floor window!” Carm started shuddering as he added the last. He still remembered that fall. He recalled the shock and the unbelievable rush of fear while falling, thinking he was going to die. It might have only been a couple of seconds, but they had been the longest he’d ever known.

  Only luck had saved him. He’d struck the decorative awning on the building’s ground floor, slid and bounced onto a parked floater before hitting the pavement. Then e
ven while he'd been reeling from the impact he'd seen the bot burst through the outer wall of his office and smash into the concrete four floors below, shattering it, and then get up. He'd had to start running as laser blasts came flying his way. He'd had no time to deal with that crap.

  He still didn't know how to deal with it. But that didn't matter. This was about life and death. Processing events would come later – if he survived.

  A quiet whirring sound intruded on his thoughts, and he turned around to see a giant steel ball, with half a dozen mechanical arms poking out of it, rolling onto the bridge and heading his way. The medbot had finally made it so he could hopefully get some first aid. But as the medbot reached for him and started tending to his injuries, his shaking grew worse. None of the chemicals it was pumping into his veins were helping. Maybe the adrenaline was wearing off. He'd been running on it ever since the attack – both metaphorically and figuratively.

  “That's not true! You were armed and the bot acted according to his programming to protect his officer!” The police officer denied the accusation. “And then you shot him!”

  “Shot him?! Shot who?! And with what?” Carm couldn't believe what he was hearing. It was simply wrong. The exact opposite of what had happened. “Are you on drugs?! A damned DD?! I don't have a sharding gun!

  “I'm a geologist! For shard's sakes don't you understand that?! I only arrived back on Aquaria a day and a half ago! I've been in decontamination and quarantine until a few hours ago! And why the shit would I shoot someone or blow something up?!” He tried once again to make her see sense and then wondered why he was even trying. There was no point. She was lying. Covering her butt as she no doubt prepared to have him killed. Something that was confirmed a moment later as the computer showed him the plots of three ships heading their way fast. They could have been anyone, but he knew they weren't. The Navy was coming. Fortunately his ship saved him from having to try.

  “Field at strength,” the ship's flat voice rang out on the bridge telling Carm it was time. Time to live or die. And while there was a good chance he would die if he translated, he was absolutely certain he would be killed if he didn't.