by Nate Johnson
Petty Officer Logan Miller shook his head. The lieutenant wasn’t as dumb as he looked. He’d just chosen the three biggest men on the ship.
Sighing, he grabbed his suit and followed Peterson towards the armory. Great. Guns and the vacuum of space never went together well. This had all the makings of a royal screw up. And he was going to be right in the middle of it.
Not for the first time, he wondered whose great idea it was for him to join the Navy.
Chapter Two
The gun felt heavy on his hip as he got into the shuttle. Like everyone else, he’d gone through the training. But spacers didn’t normally carry guns. If they ran into problems, that was what the ship's weapons were for.
“Okay,” Lieutenant Stevens said, “keep your weapons on laser only. No projectiles. No need to put a hole in the side of the ship.”
“Yeah, they don’t like that, they get all hissy,” Washington said with his permanent smile.
Peterson maneuvered the shuttle across the small patch of space and hooked up to the airlock.
As the shuttle settled down with a heavy clank, he threw the appropriate switches then watched the screen.
“We’ve got gravity sync and full atmosphere on the other side.”
Each of them relaxed a little.
“Miller, you’re with me, we’ll head forward to the bridge,” Lieutenant Stevens said. “You other two head aft and check out engineering. Report if you see anything unusual.”
Logan had to stop himself from shaking his head. What did the lieutenant think? They were going to search the ship and not report things. Keep it all a secret just to mess with him.
The airlock inner hatch opened, and Logan followed the lieutenant down the ladder and into the ship. A deathly quiet echoed off the walls. No engines, not whirling fans keeping equipment cool. Nothing but a still silence.
His shoulders began to itch with a bad feeling. He turned and watched Peterson and Washington head aft. Peterson looked over his shoulder and gave him a quick shrug. What was a guy to do but follow idiotic orders?
The lieutenant started forward, Logan fell in behind him. The ship looked new, clean, well maintained.
An obvious passenger vessel. Pipes and wires were hidden behind a false ceiling and wall panels. The deck was covered with highly polished black tiles that looked like they’d been installed yesterday. Even the air smelled fresh, with a hint of pine.
Where was that familiar smell of machine oil, burnt ozone, and men? The unique smell he associated with spaceships?
The lieutenant turned the corner and froze in place. Logan’s stomach dropped as he came up behind him and saw what had caused the sudden halt.
A man lay crunched up on the deck before them. Obviously a crewman, the uniform coveralls had the ship’s name, Voltaire, stitched above his pocket.
Logan could only shake his head as the lieutenant removed his suits glove and knelt down to place his hand against the man’s throat searching for a pulse. Sort of a useless act, in Logan’s opinion. The soulless eyes and the rather large hole in the man’s forehead indicated he was dead. Checking his pulse wasn’t going to tell them anything they didn’t already know.
“We’ve found a body,” Logan radioed his fellow crewmates.
“Yeah, we just found two of them in the engine room,” Peterson said. “It looks like they’ve been shot.”
“Yeah, our guy too,” Logan replied as he pulled his weapon from his holster. Suddenly this had stopped being a search and rescue mission.
The lieutenant caught him pulling his weapon then nodded as he too pulled his, then nodded towards the bridge.
Before he started, he provided Blackthorn an update.
“Take your time,” was all the captain said when he had received the report.
The lieutenant rogered, then began to make his way forward. Each time they passed a compartment, they would sweep it with their weapons leading the way, before moving on.
They didn’t find any more bodies until they reached the bridge. Two more men were laid out, flat on the deck. The captain and another crewman. Both with that familiar hole in their heads.
Logan’s stomach turned over. He’d seen his share of dead bodies. No one survived Corona and didn’t learn all about violent death. But this was different. Murder and space just didn’t seem to go together. Not up close and personal, like this.
If someone wanted to kill these men. Why not simply blow up the ship? Why go to the bother of stopping it, then boarding it just to kill them?
“Where are the passengers?” Logan asked.
The lieutenant shook his head. “Maybe the pirates took them. Or maybe there weren’t any onboard to start with.”
Logan felt a cold shiver run down his spine.
No, something wasn’t right, things just didn’t add up. The ship had been attacked six hours ago, yet the pirate ship had only just left. Why would pirates take passengers? There wasn’t exactly a thriving slave market in the Empire. That was one thing the empire had accomplished at least.
“Everyone spread out,” the lieutenant said. “Search the ship and see if you can find any indication of what is going on here. I’ll see if I can access the ship’s logs.”
Logan almost scoffed out loud but was smart enough to keep his mouth shut. He should be the one hacking into a strange ships command computer. But hey, let the lieutenant try. It would keep him occupied and out of his hair for hours.
Turning, he made his way back down the central passageway. At each compartment, he held his weapon with both hands as he entered. His eyes scanned for any clue as to what the hell was going on.
He stepped into the third room. Obviously one of the passenger staterooms. Luggage in the corner. Neat, clean. A single bed. If it had been the crew’s quarters, they would have been crammed in four to the room.
Nothing. No sign of a struggle. There was even a small perfume bottle on the dressing table.
Turning, he started back out when a small movement caught the corner of his eye. The compartment above the bed wiggled.
A luggage compartment that folded up to hide the bags from view. His eyes immediately swept to the two suitcases in the corner.
His heart raced as he slowly made his way towards the compartment. Holding his breath, he reached up and unlatched the compartment.
A squeal echoed through the room as a young woman rolled out of the compartment and fell into his arms.
Soft and curvy were his first thoughts as he caught the woman, hugging her to his chest to stop her from falling.
The woman twisted and turned, trying to escape. A completely useless attempt he thought. She couldn’t have weighed more than a hundred pounds.
“Are you okay?” he asked as he continued holding onto her.
Her big eyes looked up into his with pure fear and hate. As he looked down at her, he became lost for a moment in deep blue eyes that reminded him of the sky at home.
She seemed to come to her senses and screamed again as she tried to twist away. When that didn’t work, she brought her fist to his chest. Hitting him with all the strength of a newborn kitten.
“I’ve got you,” he said, trying to reassure her.
The words seemed to upset her even more as she continued to hit him while kicking her feet attempting to get away.
“I’m Imperial Navy,” he said. “We’re here to rescue you,” he added with the best calming voice he could muster. “Please. I won’t hurt you.”
She stopped struggling for a moment and looked at him again. Her eyes searched his as if trying to discern his actual intentions.
“I’m going to put you down. Okay? Are you hurt anywhere? Can you stand?”
The young woman slowly nodded.
Good, he thought. At least she could understand him.
Gently, he lowered her feet to the floor and stepped back. He should probably report this, he thought. But for some reason, he held back.
He’d been in space for two months. He wanted to keep
this to himself. At least for a moment. Long enough to savor a special minute with a beautiful woman.
Oh hell, he’d better report it, or he’d never hear the end of it.
“Hey, lieutenant, I found someone,” he said, “and this one is alive.”
The radio crackled while he waited for a reply.
“I’ll be there in a second,” the lieutenant said. “Let me check something out first.”
Sighing, Logan watched her as she watched him.
Yes, most definitely beautiful. In that elfin, feminine way some women have. Small, petite, with all the right curves in all the right places. A heart shaped face with short, collar length caramel colored hair that framed her face like a classic portrait.
His heart jumped. In all of space, and this woman falls into his arms. Someone somewhere was looking out for him.
“What’s your name?” he asked. “I’m Logan. Petty Officer Logan Miller. From the I.S.S. Blackthorn. We received your distress call.”
She continued to look at him for a moment then said, “I’m Kaylee. Kaylee Williams.” Her eyes continued to search his as if expecting that name to mean something special to him.
“What happened?” he asked. “Are you all right? Are there other passengers?”
She shook her head. “I’m the only passenger,” she said.
Logan performed the mental calculations. It would take two years’ salary to afford a private yacht like this for a single trip between planets. Who was this woman?
Her eyes suddenly got very big. “I need to check on something,” she said as she hurried towards the door.
“Hold it,” he said as he held a hand out to stop her from leaving. “I don’t want you walking into a bullet from a trigger-happy lieutenant.”
She stopped and looked at him as if he was speaking in some exotic new language.
“I’ll explain later,” he said as he stepped in front of her and reached to open the door.
His movement was interrupted by a shocked call from Peterson.
“Hey, we just found something strange,” he said over the radio. “I think it is a bo...”
A loud explosion shook the vessel, throwing the woman back into his arms.
He caught her and twisted so that he landed on his back. Cushioning her fall. Of course, that meant his back felt as if it had been snapped in two places.
But, then the soft scent of lavender washed over him, and he forgot all about the pain in his back. It was an aroma that would last with him for years. Possibly the rest of his life. He would smell that smell and think of this moment and this woman.
A loud alarm brought him back to reality. Alarms on spaceships are never a good thing. Especially when they follow an unexpected explosion.
He twisted out from under her and stood, pulling her up.
“Peterson? Washington?” he yelled into the radio.
Nothing but cold static in response.
A sudden hissing sound sent a bolt of pure fear to his heart.
Damn, this was not good.
The air of the room was leaking out from beneath the door. Not a hatch like a proper spaceship, he thought. But a sliding door like somebody’s parlor.
Whatever had exploded must have punched a hole in the ship. And they had no way to seal themselves off from the leak. He briefly wondered about Peterson and Washington. They had to have it worse
Then, he thought of the woman next to him, and his heart stopped. She didn’t have a suit. The loud hiss reminded him that they had only a minute before they were standing in vacuum.
A situation that was rather unkind to the human body.
His eyes scanned the room. Nothing. Knowing these passenger vessels, the suits were probably locked up in some locker somewhere. Out of sight, so they didn’t remind the passengers how little rested between them and immediate death.
His mind raced with options and different scenarios. Almost all of them ended up with someone dead. He’d seen what depressurization could do to a body.
If they didn’t explode outright, they tended to leak excessive amounts of blood and in some cases, actual body organs. A gruesome and painful way to go.
Taking a deep breath, he slid his flex helmet back into his suit then unzipped it from his left shoulder to his right ankle.
“Quick, get into this,” he said as he stepped out of the suit.
The woman looked at him as if he had just asked her to kiss a Valdorian flounder.
“Hurry,” he yelled as he grabbed her foot and tried to force it into the suit. Every second she wasted was placing him closer to death. The hissing had turned to a high pitch squeal. His ears popped with the loss of pressure and his heart began to race.
They didn’t have time. He wasn’t going to make it.
At last, a sense of his seriousness seemed to seep into her as she allowed herself to be folded into the suit.
It dwarfed her like a double sleeping bag, but hey, beggars couldn’t be choosers.
Once he had her zipped up and the helmet back in place, he didn’t waste time checking to make sure she was all right. Instead, a hundred emergency drills kicked into high gear.
He bent and pulled the hem of his coveralls over his socked feet and sealed them closed. Then pulled his emergency hood over his head and sealed it closed.
It was a race against time. The hiss was slowing as the pressure disappeared.
Once his hood was tight, he pulled his sleeves down and sealed himself inside. The uniform was designed for this. He had five minutes of air at best. Enough to get somewhere safe. At least theoretically.
Grabbing her hand, he started to pull her towards the door.
She pulled back. He didn’t know if it was because she was scared or just naturally didn’t like being forced to do something.
He didn’t care. Turning, he grabbed the helmet and brought his face directly in line with her. Placing her helmet next to his.
“Listen, if we don’t hurry. I die. Move your ass, or I’ll carry you.”
Her eyes got as big as the Taurus moon before she nodded.
Logan didn’t wait any longer. He slammed the door open and began to run down the passageway. His cloth covered feet slipping on the shiny black tile.
His mind flashed to worrying about Peterson, Washington, even the lieutenant. But he couldn’t afford to worry about them just yet.
His heart beat inside his chest like a hammer on an anvil, and he could feel his lungs start to burn. He had to hurry. But he couldn’t leave her there. She didn’t know how to operate his suit. Besides, there was every chance the ship could come apart in a thousand pieces. There was no way he was having a dead woman on his conscious.
As they passed the dead man in the passageway, the woman pulled back on his hand as if afraid to go on.
Her eyes grew very big as she stared down at the body.
“If you don’t want to join him. Hurry.”
Ignoring her silent hesitation, he pulled her around the corner and to the ladder leading to the airlock.
“Hurry,” he said again as he started to push her up the ladder.
The ship chose that moment to twist and turn around him as the gravity field let go for a moment. He knew exactly what had happened. The venting of air had acted like a propellant and turned the ship into a tumbling gyroscope. It had been the automatic gravity field that had stopped them for feeling the effects.
Now that the venting had stopped, the field had faltered and taken a second to catch up.
That didn’t help him though as the movement tore his hand off the ladder and threw him across the passageway.
The woman screamed as her feet left the deck. And she drifted for a brief moment.
It only lasted a fraction of a second, then the gravity field slammed back into place, throwing them both to their knees.
Logan’s lungs ached, and his world was starting to turn black at the edges. He didn’t have much longer.
Scrambling to his feet. He started once again pushing
the woman up the ladder. She looked over her shoulder, obviously upset with where he had placed his hands.
Ignoring her pointed stare, he pushed her into the airlock and climbed up in with her, pulling the hatch closed behind them as awareness began to leave him.
His last thought was that they lied to him. He didn’t have five minutes. More like three. Then blackness settled over him.
Chapter Three
Kaylee Williams gasped as her rescuer collapsed. Kneeling next to him, she waited for the airlock pressure to normalize. Under no circumstance could she let him die. Please hurry, she begged.
At last the lights turned green, and the door to the shuttle opened. She ripped the temporary hood from his suit.
The man didn’t move. He looked too young to die, she thought. Older than her, but still too young.
She held her breath. Should she start CPR? Should she force air into his lungs? Her heart raced as she tried to remember what to do.
Gently, she held a finger to his throat. A faint pulse gave her hope.
As if her touch had been a catalyst, the man gasped. Filling his lungs with precious air. Her insides relaxed. He wasn’t going to die. At least not yet. Not here with her.
His eyes fluttered open as he stared up at her. For a long moment, they looked at each other. Neither able to believe that they had made it.
He continued to take in copious amounts of air. As if rising from a deep dark sea.
Kaylee’s heart fluttered. This man had risked his life for her. Given her his spacesuit without thought or question. He acted decisively. What kind of person did that? she wondered.
He didn’t know her. Didn’t know who she was. All he had known was that she was in danger and needed to be saved.
Reaching down, she pushed the hair out of his eyes.
“You’re going to be all right,” she said
He continued to look at her as if she was some long lost treasure. The kind of look that could warm a woman’s soul.
Kaylee became aware of how disheveled she appeared. This giant space suit, his suit, she reminded herself. Made her feel like she was dressed in a giant sleeping bag. Not her best look.
