by Jack Robuck
The Core
Jack Robuck
1st Edition
Copyright © 2015 Jack Robuck
www.jackrobuck.com
All rights reserved.
This book or any portion thereof
may not be reproduced or used in any manner
without the express written permission of the author.
This is a work of fiction. The characters, places, and events
in this story are products of the author's imagination.
Chapter 1
Matthew shivered in the corridor, alone. The narrow passage crawled with cables and conduit from centuries of patching. Dark liquid pulsed down a ribbed hose and plinked in the distance. His shoes gripped the steel grating as, wide-legged, he stuck his head into the small, deep-set window in the hull.
Just past the window's edge, when he pressed his nose against the glass, he could see it, or feel it, maybe. An orange glow. Circular. Vast.
Today is the day.
The glass felt cold against his forehead. He wiped the fog of his breath away with the sleeve of his shirt, and stared out at the glow.
I'll tell the Commander I'm staying on board. That I want to join the Fleet. Some of his men will want to join the colonists. He'll need help. Maybe they'll mutiny, like in the books.
His head churned with the fantasy. Grabbing a pistol out of some officer's holster. Standing shoulder-to-shoulder with the Commander. Shouting down the dissidents.
A low, grinding whir interrupted his thoughts. From somewhere above the darkened canopy of cables, a spinning turret ignited, searing blue and red stencils across his retinas. The scream of the alarm brought Matthew's hands to his ears.
A hatch slid open, footsteps clashed, and he was shoved to the ground. He stared up at the soldiers, disoriented. As the Troopers ran past the turret light, one was blasted red, another blue, then red. His reeling mind thought they were on different teams. The light was choking his brain, and his ears were splitting.
I've gotta get out of here!
He realized he was holding his breath, and his fingers in his ears weren't shutting out the sound. His mother would be looking for him. He looked to his right, to where the civilian quarters, and the colonists waited.
Probably being shoved into protective lock-down. I'm nineteen now. Almost. What the hell is going on?
He turned left, following the soldiers, breaking into a sprint as soon as the hatch slid open in front of him. His rubber soles gunked on the decking. He ricocheted off taller personnel coming around corners. In the dim labyrinth, he followed the pulsing light strips scrolling yellow streaks in the direction of the bridge.
He'd never been this far forward before, but he'd grown up exploring the ship's halls. No one seemed to notice his presence. As he stepped through the door of the bridge, the hushed focus of people working made him pause.
The bridge was circular, dark, and glossy. A dozen officers sat behind consoles on raised platforms surrounding the central command table. Beneath a canopy of slack cables a hundred different gauges, the only lights were a galaxy of LED buttons, and a giant screen on the far wall. It showed a planet, as orange and huge as a star. Intense faces floated above starched black uniform collars, bathed in the glow of the screen.
Long, dark slashes and chunky prisms hung suspended against the planet's glow, and tiny swarms of dots moved between them.
Ships. A whole Fleet of ships, a Fleet. A Battle Fleet, with Destroyers, and Cruisers, and Behemoths.
"Uh, Sir, we're being hailed...I think."
The Commander glared at his subordinate from under his slicked-back silver mane. "You've been trying to raise them for thirty-eight hours, and now you think they're responding?"
"Sorry...it’s just never—"
"Bring them up on screen!" the Commander interrupted.
The officer grimaced and whispered to his station partner as his fingers pecked at buttons. "It’s never happened before!"
The screen blinked and pixelated, and a gasp went up from the occupants of the room.
"Quiet!" the Commander whispered.
Before them on the screen was a vision from some distant future they had never been meant to see. A control bridge, of course, and black too, but rainbow planes sprang from its blackness. There were no consoles, only officers standing behind kaleidoscope waterfalls, walking through them, touching them, as they rippled and dazzled in response.
A man turned to face them on the screen. His uniform was strange. It felt cold. Harder. Under his gaze, Matthew felt that all the serious strangers in the room with him were like roughhousing, well-loved uncles compared to the pale reptilian face that peered larger than life down at them.
"This is Admiral Dukov of the Seventeenth Earth Fleet, Director of the Impossible System."
There was a slight pause. Was it hesitation?
"State your identity and course."
The Commander swallowed. "This is Commander Cullen of the Colony Ship Waverly. Third Earth Fleet. I'm sorry, Admiral, did you say the Seventeenth Fleet?"
There was a pause; the Admiral looked to his right, and the screen went black. The officers in the room exchanged apprehensive looks. The Commander shushed them. In a moment, the Admiral was back, wearing a smile that made Matthew wonder if he'd turned off the screen to have one of his officers bolt it on for him.
"Commander. I apologize for the rude greeting, we were a little concerned. You glided all the way up to the Fleet so quietly, and then fired up your defenses."
"Sorry, Admiral, we had some COM issues...and then we detected some firing in amongst your Fleet. I guess our weapons systems warming up ruffled your feathers; everything alright?" The Commander met eyes with his Lt. Commander for a second, but his face betrayed no emotion.
The Admiral grinned again. "Absolutely, just some target practice. You know how it is being on station duty. Can be very dull."
"Well, Admiral, we don't exactly know what that's like. We've been heading straight in your direction for three hundred and seventy-nine years, so I'm afraid that no one— that is, none of us here on this ship, have any idea."
"Yes, yes, of course, of course. Well. Our records show that you all left Earth with quite a few important cargo items on board. But, first of all, most importantly, how is everyone?"
The Commander squinted, but went on. "Admiral, I'm happy to report that we have on board over twelve thousand souls, all healthy, genetically diverse, and of the full age gradient. Furthermore..."
"Good! Good, good. And, how about the ship, is the ship...ahh...well? How is the Fusion Reactor? How are you set for armaments?"
Someone whispered to the Admiral, and a colorful light plane, like an LSD oil slick, lit up in front of him. He nodded and waved it away.
The Lt. Commander stepped back away from the command table, seeping into the darkness out of the view range, and crooked a finger at another officer, beckoning him over.
The Admiral listened to someone off to his right, then waved his hands in the air. "Doesn't matter. Listen. I'm sure you all would like to....ahh....see some new faces, maybe a bit of planet-side leave?"
The Commander broke in quickly. "Certainly, Admiral, as you wish, of course, but I'm afraid I have a few questions. You see, my predecessors left me with a lot of orders and little information. Firstly, we didn't know any Fleet would be here. Or, necessarily, a planet, for that matter. Did you say the 'Impossible System'?"
The Admiral was suddenly all business again. "Listen, Commander. When your great-grandparents departed Earth, there was no Fleet here. You traveled in this direction, and I'm sure you're right on time. But while you were gone, much more advanced technology was developed. A hell of a lot more colony ships put off from Earth. I'm afraid that other than a dusty record on
our ship's computer, we had no idea you were still out here.
"A few decades ago, we had a newer, faster ship than yours coast in under its remaining juice. That one left a century after your ship, and from all appearances, civilization had broken down in that bloody tub in a matter of decades.
"As for the system, there's one inhabited planet. It's partially tidal locked, which means there's a day side, and a dark. There's very little water, and very few natural resources, which has made progress very tough.
“The surface area comprises exactly one hundred times the surface area of Earth, and the gravity clocks in at exactly one-point-zero Earth Gs."
The Admiral crossed his arms and flashed them a toothless smile.
As if on cue, the three officers in The Waverly’s navigation and science section spun in their chairs, two of them slamming right into each other. The third stood up, leaning heavily on his console, shouting far out of turn, "That's impossible!"
The Commander held up a hand in his direction. "Williams!" He turned back to the Admiral. "With all due respect, Admiral, while we've never been to Earth, according to our understanding that would be..." He struggled for a word.
The Admiral spoke up. "Impossible." He raised both his hands in a gesture of resignation. "Welcome!"
The screen went black.
The Lt. Commander stepped forward again. "Commander, we weren't instructed how to deal with this situation. We need to buy some time, and figure out what exactly is going on here."
One of the weapons officers said, "We could slow down, keep our distance."
The lead nav. and science officer put his hands on his hips. "How would that look to our new friends? They can see us out here."
Lt. Williams looked up at the blank screen. "I don't like the looks of that guy."
The science officer murmured, "I don't like the looks of that planet."
"Silence!" the Commander shouted. "This is a military vessel. We have followed our orders. We have overcome strife and adversity, largely through nothing more than the grace and rigor of our vessel, carrying forward, ignoring whatever petty nonsense went on inside her."
He placed his big, cuffed hand on the command desk. "We have arrived at our destination. We will capitulate to the Admiral's authority. We will adapt to the situation, but we will follow orders. There's nothing to figure out."
He met eyes with the Lt. Commander. "We're all out of our depth here. We'll do our best to do our duty."
The Lt. Commander nodded. "Of course, Commander, we—"
He was interrupted as a harsh metallic screech reverberated in the grotto acoustics of the darkened bridge. It sketched the thick silence of space in a new relief, and was gone.
Did the ship....vibrate?
Matthew shrunk deeper into the shadowed doorway. They waited, unsure. In the quiet, the tromp of footsteps echoed, muffled, through a door across the room.
A blast of sparks. The door opened. A shot, two more, and a Trooper standing guard was ripped apart with his weapon still tangled in its sling. A storm of ceramic space-safe rounds filled the chamber, chipping and exploding in a hail of shards against the walls.
Several more Troopers and officers went down. An electrical fire broke out overhead, caused by a missed shot. Black masks and rifle barrels poured into the room from the far door, boots clanking on the metal grating.
The Admiral was back on the screen in a flash. "Fleet Actual to Waverly, fire on that pod! Damn it! Kill them, Commander!"
One of the black-leather clad assailants hopped up on the command table and pulled off a Fleet helmet and mask, dropping a yard of chocolate-colored hair to unfurl down her back. Matthew's eyes followed its course, down along the tight leather pants to where her heeled black boots were making unfavorable impressions on the up-lit command table.
Silhouetted against the enraged Admiral's ten foot face, she laughed. Her voice had the throaty texture of a woman who constantly enjoyed doing as she pleased. "It’s over, Admiral. You’ll never get your hands on this ship."
The Admiral's eyes narrowed, and in a blink, the planet and the Fleet were back on screen. The soldiers that had stormed in with her spread out, taking over consoles and ushering officers to the center of the room. One pulled Matthew from the shadows, and flung him to the center of the bridge, sending him sprawling against the officers.
The Lt. Commander grabbed him by the collar and pulled him to eye level. "What the hell are you doing in here, kid?"
Their assailants backed them all, encircled, against the command table. The woman jumped down, and faced the Commander, slinging her assault rifle behind her back. "I'm sorry Captain."
"Commander! You fucking people killed my men! We've got wounded, are you going to shoot us if we call for the medics?"
"I'm sorry, Commander. Yes, by all means, call for the medics. Though that may not matter very much." She signaled to one of her officers who was already at work at the navigation and science station.
The Commander stepped forward, only to be pushed back against the glass desk. "Are you going to tell me what the hell is going on here? This is a colony ship, on a peaceful mission! Who are you people?"
"My name is Rachel. And I'm trying to apologize. You're not to blame, but I cannot allow the Admiral and the Fleet to take control of this ship. With the technology on board, he would be able to destroy us once and for all."
"Who the hell are you? There're no ships on our screens without Fleet codes."
The COM officer blurted, "Are you aliens?"
Rachel laughed. "We're planetsiders. And that’s why I'm sorry. We don't have any ships. We don't have any other way to keep the Admiral's paws off you. To keep him from adding you to his slave factories, turning your weapons against us, and putting us all to work harvesting water and working his fields. We have no choice but to crash you into the planet."
"Whoa, wait one fucking second!" The Commander had lost all composure, and was gritting against the two black-clad rebels holding him away from Rachel.
A medic team came running in, bags over their shoulders.
"Send your people to their escape capsules, Commander. We don't have a lot of time."
"Kill them!" the Commander spat.
One of the rebels struck him hard in the gut, and he went down. The Lt. Commander stepped forward, holding up his hands. "Let me use the command table, and I'll send out the order to evacuate."
The rebels holding him back looked at Rachel, who nodded. They released their grip. He typed in a few simple keystrokes. He confirmed, and immediately an automated voice began broadcasting throughout the ship.
All crew and passengers to their designated evacuation zones. Abandon ship. Repeat. Abandon ship. This is not a drill. Abandon ship. All crew and passengers...
In the flash of the new red strobe, the Lt. Commander took advantage of the chaos. He reached under the command table, pulling out an assault rifle. He fired fast, killing two rebels before a third shot him in the throat. He staggered and killed his shooter before collapsing on the floor. Rachel, her one remaining guard and the technician at the console were heavily outnumbered now. The officers and crew of the ship stepped forward, but they were unarmed. The COM officer picked up the Lt. Commander's weapon, and fired off a shot, hitting the guard in the thigh before he was shot in return. He hit the deck hard.
Rachel grabbed Matthew, spinning him around, and put a strange, chrome-polished pistol to his head. In the moment of panic, Matthew writhed in her grasp.
"What the...?"
She smacked him hard across the mouth with the long, engraved barrel, and he cried out. The cold pressure against his temple returned.
Rachel and her guard—a tall, broad, bald man who had two pistols trained on the officers—retreated back to the passageway door. On screen, the Fleet and planet veered to the left, as the ship altered course. Their technician edged behind them, and Rachel screamed at him as she dragged Matthew backwards.
"Jimmy, is it done?"
&nb
sp; "It's done."
She breathed a sigh of relief. "Hard code the thrusters, and shut down all other ship functions. We don't want them firing on the planet on the way down."
He nodded and stepped back over to the console as Rachel and the wounded guard held everyone at gunpoint.
Matthew felt his stomach turn. He felt the lift, the sensation of growing slightly taller. The ship's artificial gravity was shutting down, along with the all the other systems.
The Commander looked up at the screen from where he crouched, grabbing the command desk. "Why aren't they moving to intercept?"
Rachel swayed, half holding Matthew in front of her as a shield and half using him as ballast. "They can't. Their ships that are big enough to stop us haven't drunk a drop of fuel in fifty years. It’s over, Commander. I didn't want it to be this way, but it’s done."
The screen was solid orange, stippled tan and brown with terrain. A wisp of white cloud blurred much too close. In the far bottom corner, a long straight river drove its way across the landscape.
The fire overhead was spreading. A coiled conduit burst, and a pressurized jet of hydraulic fluid torched. The heat flushed Rachel's pale face. Noticing her guard limping from his jagged thigh wound, she swung her handgun toward the nearest medic, a scruffy old grey-hair with a pot belly.
"You! Come with us, or you're dead. Bring your bag."
"You gonna kill me with that revolver, girl? I'm not afraid of you. Go to hell!"
Rachel pointed the gun at the Commander, on his hands and knees on the floor. "I'll drop him! I don't give a fuck, old man!"
Globules of flaming sealant floated toward the ground around the Commander. He looked up at the medic and nodded, closing his eyes. The doctor strapped on his bag and long-hopped past the group. The rebel guard nudged him forward with his left hand pistol, and Rachel backed away from the room down the corridor, Matthew in tow, just as the last of the gravity disappeared.
They grabbed onto the bulkheads, the grating, pulling themselves along, all sides up, and none. Matthew wondered why he was cooperating. Despite the lack of gravity, he could detect the inertia of the ship change, twisting. He grabbed onto a cable and slingshot himself down the center of the corridor. Rachel watched and did the same. She slammed into him, and grabbed on for support.
