by Alan Black
Metal Boxes - Rusty Hinges
Alan Black
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
Metal Boxes - Rusty Hinges
Published by arrangement with the author.
Copyright @ 2015 by Alan Black
Cover Art: Willard (Bill) Wright at
https://www.flickr.com/photos/billwrigt1/
Cover Layout and Design: The Cover Collection at
http://www.thecovercollection.com/
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or digital form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
ISBN-13: 978-1522717928
ISBN-10: 1522717927
Copyright: 1-2949758401
Acknowledgement:
Thanks beta reader team for your quality reads and feedback. Steven, Bennett, Melanie & Melissa, you make my books much better than they would be, if left to my own imagination.
I also want to thank my editors. Melissa Manes
(www.scriptionis.com) has done her usual wonderful job. My chief editor has exceeded all expectations.
Table of Contents
Title
Legal Disclaimer
Acknowledgement
Synopsis of Other Books
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Chapter Fifty-Two
Chapter Fifty-Three
Chapter Fifty-Four
Other Books by Alan Black
About the Author
Praise for Books by Alan Black
A brief synopsis of earlier books.
Metal Boxes
Stone’s first assignment as a newly minted midshipman is on a massive warehouse ship supplying the Empire’s fleet with everything from bullets to bandages to food during the Hyrocanian War. He becomes friends with the officers of the marine contingent: Numos, Hammermill, Heller, and Vedrian. Full Commander Danielle Elizabeth Wright, the officer in charge of the vast ship’s farms, mentors him as he struggles with navy life, his duties, and his budding relationship to 1LT Allie Vedrian.
Stone uncovers a ring of thieves lining their pockets at the expense of the military and the emperor. Before he can report the theft, he and CDR Wright are kidnapped, thrown into an escape pod and jettisoned into hyperspace—a certain death sentence.
Stone reconfigures the pod engines and makes a safe landing on an unknown, hostile planet. Stone and Wright struggle to survive the harsh environment while making repairs to the pod in an effort to return to human space. Stone happens to be present at the birth of native creatures that look like a cross between a dragon and a scorpion. Two babies imprint on him after their badly injured mother dies. He calls them drascos and gives each of them a name. Wright determines their relative location in space and studies the flora and fauna of the previously undiscovered planet. Stone names the planet Allie’s World after his girlfriend.
Rather than die as their would-be killers planned, they manage to get the pod’s engines repaired and refueled. Taking the baby drascos with them, Stone and Wright return to human space where they proceed to the local Empire Military Investigative Service (EMIS) office to report their status among the living. They soon find themselves pressed into helping the EMIS agent take control of the warehouse ship to investigate the attempted murders and possible theft. When the ship’s admiral is found complicit, the EMIS agent places Stone in command of the ship with orders to plot a course for the nearest space station. The ship is on course to a combat zone to resupply the fleet fighting a desperate battle against the Hyrocanians. Stone struggles with the orders he’s been given and determines to do what is right for the navy.
Stone risks his life and the lives of his drascos in an effort to save the fleet. His actions damage the fleet warehouse ship beyond repair. Expecting to die at the hands of humanity’s enemy, he’s rescued by his girlfriend, 1LT Vedrian. His unusual problem solving solutions save the remnant of the Empire’s heavily battered fleet. The Hyrocanian fleet is soundly defeated and Stone is declared a hero.
Metal Boxes - Trapped Outside
Ensign Stone feels trapped on Lazzaroni Base while the legal issues surrounding his escape from the Hyrocanians and the rescue of the Empire’s fleet whirl around him for months on end. Meanwhile, his marine friends are transferred to systems unknown, taking Allie with them.
The medical corps continues probing, prodding, and poking him. They discover that his close association with alien drascos is affecting his DNA and they can’t explain the changes in his body, but as of yet, none appear dangerous. The drascos are classified as pets although their level of intelligence has been recognized by many.
In a fit of the emperor’s humor, his next assignment returns him and his drascos to Allie’s World as the appointed planetary governor and military commander of a mismatched group of military, medical, and civilian personnel including his marine friends and girlfriend, Allie.
Before the military can fully secure their small headquarters area, the compound is heavily bombed. The battered survivors desperately struggle to vacate the compound ahead of a Hyrocanian ground assault. While running and hiding from the Hyrocanians, the small band of survivors finds the local fauna as dangerous as the aliens hunting them.
A massive, rampaging male drasco attacks their ragged camp. Barely able to kill the beast while attempting to save Allie, Stone is infected with drasco bodily fluids, resulting in a massive growth spurt, thickening of his skin, and a heightening of his senses.
The desperate attack on the Hyrocanian base camp turns to victory as Stone manages to commandeer an alien shuttle. The humans know little about Hyrocanian physiology, language, society, c
ulture, or even why they started the war. During the battle for Allie’s World, they learn the Hyrocanians prefer eating living flesh. Stone rescues a group of creatures from the Hyrocanians who were attempting to catch and eat them, oblivious to the fighting surrounding them. The obviously intelligent, diminutive creatures bear a strong resemblance to piglets from Earth.
Bolstered by civilians, drascos, and a cluster of piglets, the military personnel succeed in a do-or-die attack to capture the alien spaceship orbiting Allie’s World.
CHAPTER ONE
The governor of Allie’s World, UEN Ensign Junior Grade Blackmon Perry Stone sat on the veranda of his new office space. He tried desperately to avoid wishing for something exciting to happen. Exciting on this planet could get a person killed. Not wishing to die, he couldn’t stop himself from wishing for anything that might take him away from the monotony of day-to-day paperwork.
He propped his bare feet up on a small wicker ottoman. The overhead fan swished back and forth with slow rhythmic repetitiveness, but the pleasant onshore zephyr overwhelmed the fan’s delicate airflow. The stunning view of the black sand beach and calm, blue ocean beyond, peeked through the thirty foot tall fern grove surrounding the building. The picturesque scene included small groups of dependent families and military personnel playing in the mild surf.
A piglet he’d named Shorty, one of his private staff, quietly entered, placing an iced smoothie on the tiny wicker table next to him, without disturbing him. Stone and the marines rescued the piglets from the Hyrocanian shuttle kitchens in the final battle for Allie’s World. Since then, he hadn’t been able to convince Shorty to stop following him around. One or another piglet had been at Stone’s side since their rescue. Originally, his plan had been to stir up a little confusion for the Hyrocanians by turning panicked livestock loose in their corridors as the remaining Allie’s World forces attempted to wrest control of the shuttle from the four-armed freaks. The piglets weren’t simple food stocks and adopted him as their savior, especially Shorty and his female companion, Sissie. Stone felt obligated to include both on his private staff.
They were not true piglets, but the small sentient creatures resemblance to Earth piglets was remarkable and to folks partial to bacon, sausage and chops, the similarities were disturbing. Stone found it unsettling that Shorty always carrying a shoulder bag filled with gods-know-what, now wore tiny sunglasses under a handmade, wide-brimmed strawhat. Stone didn’t know who made Shorty’s accessories or Sissie’s for that matter, but they were a curiosity.
Assuming the piglets had made their own hats, he wondered who made the sunglasses. He was positive that soon hundreds of piglets on the island would be wearing sunglasses. He hoped whoever was making them wasn’t gouging the little guys too much. He couldn’t ask Shorty or Sissie about the glasses because he couldn’t communicate directly with them and there weren’t any drascos around to interpret for him.
He shifted slightly in his chair as a loud screech filled the air. No strange odors wafted up from the beach alerting him to danger, but he looked anyway. A couple of oversized marines had tossed a young navy spacer into the clear, clean water. The cry was one of distress as the young man lost his swim trunks much to the glee of the female marines who grabbed them and ran away.
Stone sighed and turned back to his dataport readouts. He’d already read through the daily messages on his civilian personal assistant. Ninety-nine percent of those messages were from family and of the “let’s copy Trey on this status report to butter up the next boss” variety. There had been one distressing message from his girlfriend, Marine First Lieutenant Allison Vedrian. She was on leave and had just checked into the hotel. The message had videos of the penthouse suite, her glowing report on how excited she was, and how she couldn’t wait for him to join her in three days. The message was already a week old and his message to her saying he would be even later than their Plan B schedule hadn’t reached her yet.
He’d desperately needed to join her. They hadn’t wanted to travel separately. Plan A was to travel together, but that changed at the last minute so he could attend a newly scheduled mandatory commander’s call. Being the governor was one thing, but he was still in the navy and mandatory meant just that, so Allie and Stone agreed to Plan B. She would go on ahead and he would hop the next shuttle to Brickman’s Station, catching a ride from there on a family owned cattle hauler to join her for an extended vacation. Cattle haulers weren’t as fast, glamorous, or clean smelling as the five-star cruise liner she took to Peach’s Rest, but it was the next fastest travel option.
True to military standards, the commander’s call was a waste of time, simply confirming the rumors of command changes in the planetary system’s navy contingent. So much for military life. People were always being transferred in and out. No specifics were shared, except for Vice Admiral Temple’s upcoming promotion and assignment to Lazzaroni Station much to everyone’s disappointment, approval, or cause for celebration, depending on their relationship with the admiral.
Stone longed to join Allie. If given enough time, Stone could remember and list each time someone or something had tried to kill him, but this job of planetary governor was going to kill him faster than the Hyrocanians, rampaging male drascos, or murdering criminals ever would. He glanced around his office and realized that what was truly going to kill him was the lack of physical activity. Time with Allie would settle and sooth his aching nerves.
The governor’s office and residence was nothing less than a paradise complete with servants, but he’d always been one of those people who preferred to do, not sit and read about doing. As a child, he’d always been in the middle of activity. He’d been in the way more often than he’d been a help. Even when shifting cargo, he tried to help, although helping usually meant sitting in Grandpa’s lap while the man ran a loader.
Plan B was put on hold after Allie departed. A priority message from the emperor set alarms off on his dataport and shifted his vacation schedule to Plan C. He was told to stay put and greet a special representative who wouldn’t arrive until tomorrow. Whoever was coming — and whatever the reason for their visit — would make him weeks late in joining Allie, cutting his vacation time by half. Fortunately, time in hyperspace didn’t count against leave time unless traveling by military craft.
Living the double life of a navy ensign and a civilian governor was frustrating. The jobs and tasks were often at complete odds with each other. Both positions were now joining forces to prevent him from spending time with his girlfriend and keep him buried knee-deep in mundane reports. Against his better sense, he wished again for something to happen.
The light, warm wind blowing in from the beach brought him the fragrance of cinnamon. The odor wasn’t pleasant like cinnamon on snickerdoodles. The fragrance had overtones of burnt garlic so strong he could taste it on the back of his tongue. It made his eyes water. He knew this drifting odor. It wasn’t a good thing.
Two years ago, during an attack by a berserk male drasco, the drasco’s blood and sperm had entered into his body through an open wound on his arm. Mixing with previously acquired DNA from his female drasco companions spit and his malfunctioning military grade nanites, Stone developed some peculiarly enhanced senses.
His sense of smell was finely attuned. Previously, while in the jungles on the continent, he’d caught a whiff of cinnamon immediately before a fresh water creature attacked and killed a marine intelligence technician named Eaton. The odor of cinnamon was a clear indication of a mindless desire to kill and feed. It was a wild marine creature’s fragrance.
Stone was on his feet racing toward the beach before he could form a thought or grab his shoes. Halfway to the water he started shouting, “Clear the beach. Get out of the water.” Shorty and Sissie were following him as fast as they could.
Wild wonking drowned out his shouts. His personal bodyguard team consisted of two marines and a team of drascos. Peebee’s daughters raced past him at full speed. Ell, Tee, and Bea pounded toward th
e beach, their small vestigial wings flapping in alarm. They were about a year and a half old, but full grown — or at least, as large as they would grow until one of them died.
Stone’s improved hearing alerted him to Jay and Peebee’s wonking in the distance with Jay’s daughters — Charlotte, Emily, and Anne — wonking in chorus. They were off duty, but the shouts of alarm would have them running after him as would the marines on duty — once they realized there was a danger.
Ell, Tee, and Bea hit the edge of the beach first and slid to a stop in a spray of sand. They wonked in alarm at the danger they were unable to communicate to the humans at the water’s edge.
“Clear the beach. Get out of the water.” Stone shouted to be heard as his feet hit the sand, sprinting past the young drascos.
A clack and a whir caught his attention as the lifeguard stations started reacting to the emergency. The tiny buildings scattered along the beach rose up on their expansion knuckles, bringing their lifeguards to a high-ground protective position. The high powered, automatic, twin-barrel Gatling guns spun in an angry whisper waiting for the lifeguards fingers to twitch on the triggers.
Guard shacks ringed the island as a secondary defense against the monsters in Allie’s World’s ocean. Most were unmanned and set on automatic, but where humans played and swam, marines manned them. Charged ocean nets ringing the island hundreds of meters out to sea were the primary defense. Somehow, something had breached the nets.
Hearing the commotion, military personnel hustled fathers, mothers, and children off the sand, many grabbing weapons and rushing back to the water’s edge. Sand chairs, beach blankets, and picnic baskets were forgotten, left scattered behind in the rush to reach safety.
Stone sprinted down the beach, hit the water with a huge spray, and dove headfirst into the surf. If he’d stopped to think about it, he wouldn’t have gotten any closer to the water than his office. He couldn’t swim. He didn’t mind getting into the water, but the ability to move around without his feet touching the bottom eluded him.
