The Colony Ship Vanguard: The entire eight book series in one bundle

by John Thornton

  He had escaped from the airlock which had been his jail after he had attempted to help Brinley. He wondered about his freedom, for it was not really an escape so much as when he tried the airlock door again, it was unlocked. At first he had thought he had been released by Markari, but after walking only a few feet from the airlock, he discovered the slaughter. First, by the lingering smell of burned flesh, and then shortly afterward by the multiple bodies. Tennard chose mentally not to identify the names of the dead, only ascertained the certainty of their deaths. To look into so many faces of the ones he knew, loved, and cared for, was beyond his abilities to cope. It was a tricky balance, but he tried to separate out his feelings from his mission. He was only partially successful.

  He closed the door on this latest room of death and progressed onward. He had covered most of the safe zone, but still needed to inspect the perimeter and the bulkhead doors. After he had done that, he intended to depart and attempt to walk to the nearest Free Ranger location. He had already checked the hanger bays and without significant work, those hangers would never function again. He just was not physically capable of doing the multiple jobs needed to reopen the hangers. From what he was able to determine, none of the remaining shuttles were operational anyway. He wondered if the attack had come via the hanger bays, but the evidence did not seem to support that. Obviously, the people had been killed by red automacube action, and the remains of one charred and mangled red automacube was found. But it all puzzled Tennard. ‘Why would the CPO do such an evil act on such a grand scale?’ He repeatedly asked himself. ‘Certainly, the CPO murdered Free Rangers when they were caught in the habitats, but Tennard could not recall any recent times when CPO forces had progressed so deeply away from the habitats or the core drive ship. The savagery reminded him of what he as a young child had observed in the mutiny so many decades ago.

  As he worked, he also collected items he would take with him on his sojourn to find other Free Rangers. His backpack was as full as his old back could tolerate: food, water, a filter mask, a personal mini-computer, some assorted supplies, and a brick of ammunition for his handgun. He doubted he could walk the entire way, and was pondering other options.

  He was walking toward the last bulkhead on his list. This one had much more damage than the others. There had been intense fighting here, and he decided this must have been the entry point for the attackers. He saw a pile of three bodies, and was about to just ignore them when he heard a quiet moan.

  He stooped over and saw that two of the bodies were unquestionably dead, as they had assumed room temperature and were stiffening. The third body was not in such bad shape, and as he assessed it, again he heard a moan. This time he knew it came from the body. Wiping the dried blood off, Tennard recognized Sigmond.

  “Sigmond? Sigmond?” Tennard asked. He removed a small vial from his backpack and placed it under Sigmond’s nose.

  “What is it?” Sigmond said sluggishly. Then terror came into his eyes. “Do not kill me!” He screamed.

  “It is I, Tennard. You are alive. You and I are the only ones.”

  “Alive? The doctor said…” Sigmond looked around in confusion. Seeing the bodies he turned his head and retched. After that he had dry heaves for a few more minutes, and Tennard stood patiently by him, offering the comfort of his presence.

  “Sigmond, come this way. You must clean up before we leave.” Tennard led him to an apartment where there were no bodies. The former occupants of that apartment, a married couple and their child were just bullet ridden corpses a few hallways away. Sigmond used the toilet, and then washed his face, hands, and finally stripped off all his clothes and used the shower. The warm water was reviving to Sigmond’s body, but his mind reeled at what he had seen. He stood under the flowing warm water and let it wash over him. It removed the blood, grime, and sweat, but could not remove the angst, anger, and aggravation.

  Tennard looked for things Sigmond would need. He found clean clothing which would fit. He also rummaged through the storage areas near to them and found additional supplies. He placed them into the second backpack he had found. Tennard looked at the paper books which were arranged on a shelf in the apartment. Those would have to be left behind, but he deeply regretted that. Hearing that Sigmond was still showering, Tennard left the clothing and supplies out where they would be found. He then returned to the hallway.

  Approaching the bulkhead door, Tennard saw the inert form of a blue automacube. The machine had suffered serious damage; nonetheless, Tennard approached it warily.

  “Stop!” Screamed a half-naked Sigmond. “That is one of the attackers!”

  Tennard retreated back to where Sigmond stood. Sigmond was shaking in fear.

  “Sigmond, just finish dressing, then we will check it out together,” Tennard explained.

  “No! Those automacubes murdered our people! That automacube will kill again!” Sigmond’s eyes were wild in fright. “The red models will be back. They are killers! I saw them! They will kill us too!”

  “Sigmond, I am here. That automacube looks dysfunctional. The red ones are gone. I have checked everywhere in the safe zone. The only automacubes here were destroyed.” Tennard reassured him, and reached out and touched him on the shoulder.

  “They did not come from the safe zone! They came from beyond the perimeter.”

  “They are gone now. You just finish dressing and getting ready. I have some bread, cheese, and sliced meats in my pack. Eat something, and then drink. We need to depart.” Tennard’s calm manner was comforting to Sigmond. He went back to dressing, then looked for the food. He had not realized how hungry he actually was. The food stayed down, but his stomach was nauseated.

  Tennard returned again to the hallway and walked right up to the engineering automacube. There was no response from the machine. Tennard knelt down, his knees popping as he did. He connected a cable from his mini-computer to the automacube. On the screen of the mini-computer he could access the information log of the automacube. While its own lufi-amalgum batteries were inoperable, the mini-computer had enough power to view the log files, at a slow but tolerable rate.

  “So you came from E Habitat, the Wilds. Ordered by Constable Larissa. So now I know who is responsible for this atrocity, but I do not know why.” Tennard said to himself. “Shall I delve into your deeper files?”

  “Some stars all are twinkling!” a croaking voice yelled from outside the bulkhead door.

  Tennard looked up and saw the Roe stumbling down the corridor toward him. It had been a large man, before being infected. The eyes, mostly looking downward still blazed bright orange in intense hatred at the things around it. Its long dark beard was unkempt and tangled. It had no shirt on, its chest covered in multiple scars and a moderate amount of hair. The pants it wore were ragged at the cuffs. In one hand it carried a length of pipe, with a large fitting on the end. The Roe was casually scraping that club along the wall. It did not yet appear to have seen the open bulkhead door, as its gait was slow and meandering.

  Tennard automatically reached up and punched in the codes to shut the bulkhead door. It just buzzed in refusal to close. The door itself was physically damaged, and the circuits to activate it had been circumvented by E11’s final commands.

  “This is trouble,” Tennard mumbled.

  The Roe looked up. It had heard the door buzzing, or his small comment, or both. Their eyes met. The old eyes of Tennard met the crazed, orange eyes of a man who was now a Roe.

  Quickly, the Roe swung its club up over its shoulder and then raced forward. “Some stars all are twinkling!”

  Tennard pulled out his handgun. He struggled a bit with the holster, his shoulder and wrist not a flexible as they had been when he was young. He leveled the handgun at the Roe and fired.

  Blam, blam, blam

  The Roe was struck twice, once in the side and once in the left leg. It still rushed ahead, oblivious to the injuries sustained. “Some stars all are twinkling!”

  Blam, blam, blam


  This time two more of the shots struck the Roe, one squarely in the chest, and the other in the leg again. The Roe was knocked off balance and fell to the deck. “Some stars all are twinkling!” It screamed.

  Tennard stood and kept his weapon aimed at the Roe.

  From behind him he heard, “Why is this happening? What is going on? Why?” Sigmond was screaming and screaming in near hysteria.

  Blam

  Tennard fired one more shot, this one into the Roe’s head. Its last words echoed through the corridor even overshadowing the screaming of Sigmond. “Some stars all are twinkling!” It finally stopped struggling and lay still in death.

  Tennard reloaded the weapon and then holstered it. He turned to Sigmond. “We must leave now, or be trapped here. Come with me. The tagalongs will be here soon.”

  Sigmond just stared for a moment, and then slowly nodded his head. “Which hanger bay?” He asked weakly.

  Tennard pondered briefly how to answer, knowing that they could not use the hanger bays, but then just put his hand on Sigmond’s shoulder and guided him. “We will go this way. It will be safest. Just head down there, I will follow and show you where we are going.”

  Sigmond nodded and walked off.

  Tennard rushed into the apartment and grabbed the other backpack. He looked longingly at the shelf of paper books. Then he grabbed one he knew and enjoyed, labeled “The Call of the Wild” and one called “The Bible” and placed them into the backpack. He also picked up another carbine which had been in a weapon’s locked along with several pouches of its ammunition. He quickly checked the carbine to ensure its functionality. Like most Free Ranger equipment it was in pristine condition. Catching up to Sigmond, Tennard placed his hand on the young man’s shoulder. Tennard was sore from the extra weight and the quick pace. He placed the belt and backpack on Sigmond, who offered no resistance. Sigmond helped connect it, but in a distracted and out-of-touch manner.

  “Just some supplies for our trip,” Tennard assured him and patted his back. “And can you carry this carbine?”

  “It will not help,” Sigmond answered, but slipped it over his shoulder on its carry strap. “We shot the automacubes many times, but they kept coming.”

  “We will take it anyway. Just in case. Remember, I am here, and we are going away from all this.” Tennard then rubbed his short white hair with his hand. Since using the handgun, his hand and fingers were sore. Many of his joints were stiff since he had done more in the last few hours than he usually did in a full day. He tried to shake the stiffness out of his body.

  Tennard led them away from the dead Roe, and around the perimeter of the save zone. The blue horizontal stripe no longer gave him the feelings of security and peace it once had. Now it just looked shabby and faded. ‘Perhaps the paint, like the life that had lived here, was draining away?’ Tennard pondered to himself.

  They reached another bulkhead door, and it too was standing open. Sigmond hesitated. “This is not a hanger. We need to get away, right?” He mumbled his words, and he had an exhausted look about him.

  “We cannot use the hanger bays here. We need to walk to another place,” Tennard stated. He knew no easy way to say it.

  There was an uncomfortable pause.

  “That is why I need the carbine. We are going through the corridors. You need me to shoot the Roe.” Sigmond pulled the carbine off his shoulder and held it before him. “I can do that. I can shoot the Roe.” Sigmond’s brown eyes were concentrating as he said that. His lips were pulled tightly so as to almost be gone. “Yes, I can shoot the Roe. Not the automacubes, but I can shoot the Roe.”

  “Excellent!” Tennard said. “Together we will make this journey.”

  “We can also avoid the Roe. They are rather slow and awkward. I know how to avoid the Roe. They are not fast like the automacubes,” Sigmond said. “Yes, we can make it past the Roe. Shoot them, or avoid them.” For the first time since he had been found, he looked deeply into Tennard’s eyes. “They are all dead? Really?”

  Tennard looked back at him, and then grabbed the young man in a huge hug. “Yes, Sigmond, they are all dead. I checked each and every body. Only you and I remain.”

  Sigmond hugged him back, and Tennard was the first one to begin crying. Together they wept for their dead family and friends.

  After both men sobbed, they released their hug.

  “We have a long journey,” Tennard said. “I think we should head for Oasis.”

  “We are in this together,” Sigmond said, and checked the ammunition supply on the carbine.

  “I cannot walk that far, and it would take too long. We need to get a warning to the other Free Rangers,” Tennard said.

  “But you said we cannot use the hanger bays here.” Sigmond was shaking a bit as his resolve was not dissolving into anxiety.

  “That is right. And we cannot walk all the way there. My old body will not make that journey by foot. But, perhaps, there is another way. We will need some additional tools, and if you can help to carry those I think we can make it.”

  “I will help, but I do not understand,” Tennard said. “I can shoot the Roe, and I can avoid the Roe. I could fly a shuttle, but the hangers cannot be used. How else can we…get away?”

  They turned the corner of the hallway and came upon a cabinet set into the permalloy wall. There were large yellow letters across the cabinet, ESRC.

  “There should be everything we need in here in the Emergency Supply Resource Cabinet,” Tennard stated gently. He did not want to tell Sigmond that the larger and better stocked tool supply areas of the safe zone were littered with mangled dead bodies, and he certainly was not going to traumatize him by having them go to one of those tool rooms. “We will need a cutting torch, and some other tools. We will take everything we can.”

  “But where will we go? No shuttles, no walking?” Sigmond was confused.

  “We will have to walk a bit to go to a couple sublevels down from Orsk in the Wilds, to a place I know there. It is a depot for the old transport system of the Vanguard. I am pretty sure I can get one of those tube system vehicles to take us to Oasis,” he actually sounded like there was hope for his wild scheme. “We will need to cut into that portal depot, and probably cut our way out at Oasis, but it is the only way I think I can get us to safety. But I need your help. Sigmond, together we can do this. Alone, I fear we will each fail.”

  “Yes. I can shoot the Roe while you lead us to this place. I know machines too, and I will help however you direct me to.” Sigmond reached into the ESRC and pulled out a vibration saw, a compact welder’s set, and a tool kit. Tennard took the first aid package and two ponchos.

  “You can carry all that?” Tennard asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Then off we go to ride on the old transport system,” Tennard said. He put more confidence in his words than he really felt. He knew no one had ridden the tube transport system since the mutiny over sixty years before.

  8 water, music, knowledge

  Brinley piloted the small shuttle to just outside Hanger Bay 219. The journey had been uneventful, and had given her time to consider all that had happened. Being alone in a shuttle was not a new situation, but being without a place to call home certainly was new. She pondered if or when she would be able to return to the save zone and the people she knew. Markari had made it very clear she was not to return, but following the rules like a slave was out of character for Brinley. She also wondered how Tennard was doing, and what she may be able to do to help him.

  Some distance behind the small shuttle was the even smaller runabout with Paul and Gretchen. They had maneuvered the runabout better than Brinley expected. They had said they could do it, but she had had some doubts. Sure, their claims had proven true before, but Brinley still was unsure of exactly what to think of these people. They just seemed so lacking in basic knowledge, yet having incredible skills in some areas. Not for the first time, Brinley was reminded of a young man in A Habitat who had an amazing ability to calculate nu
mbers and solve mathematical problems, yet could not cloth himself or maintain basic hygiene on himself. ‘Perhaps people from that Dome 17 are just really different?’ Brinley said to herself yet again.

  “Brinley?” Paul asked through the communication system. “Is this the hanger bay you wanted to reach?”

  “Yes, Paulie. We are here. And you made it!” Brinley smiled as she teased him.

  “He had me to help out,” Gretchen chimed in. “So how do we get inside?”

  “There are sentries posted waiting for shuttles to come. We are not scheduled, but they will accommodate us.” Brinley touched the controls and flashed the external lights three times in a row. “Watch for a reply. The lights around the bay will change color. That will mean we have been seen and they know we want entry. Then when a bay is ready, the lights around it will flash in colors. That means they will be opening the door. As small as both our ships are, they will let us dock in the same hanger space. That is, Paulie, if you can manage to land the runabout?” Brinley gave a laugh.