Mimic and the Space Engineer Boxed Set, Books 1 - 3

by James David Victor

  MIMIC AND THE SPACE ENGINEER BOXED SET, BOOKS 1-3

  SPACE SHIFTER CHRONICLES OMNIBUS 1

  JAMES DAVID VICTOR

  FAIRFIELD PUBLISHING

  Copyright © 2017 Fairfield Publishing

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Except for review quotes, this book may not be reproduced, in whole or in part, without the written consent of the author.

  This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual people, places, or events is purely coincidental.

  CONTENTS

  Mimic and the Space Engineer

  Mimic and the Journey Home

  Mimic and the Fight for Freedom

  Thank You

  MIMIC AND THE SPACE ENGINEER

  1

  DIGGING UP THE FUTURE

  “HIGGENS! Clean up on the base deck!”

  I jolted forward, nearly shocked out of my skin by the ship’s intercom. A sizzle from below my hands pulled me the other way, and I realized my little gizmo-project had set itself alight with my gap in attention.

  “Dammit.” I groaned, grabbing my well-used extinguisher and blasting the creation until it stopped popping and cracking.

  “Higgens! Do you read?”

  “Yeah! I read! What’s the mess?” I asked.

  “Why do you need to know? Just get down there!”

  I gave myself a few seconds while I mentally retorted with the sarcastic comeback I wanted to say, before saying what I knew I should say. “I need to know what equipment to bring, unless you want me to haul down about a ton of different bits n’ bobs. Is it a fuel spill? Post-fire recovery? Crew got sick? Injured? Bio-hazard…”

  “Alright! Alright! There was a slight rupture in the base of one of the drills and a mess of grit and debris got in.”

  “Righto. Space contamination and debris clearing it is.”

  “Whatever. Just get down there. We’re supposed to start drilling again in a couple of hours and I’m not missing out on any bonuses because of this.”

  “Yes, sir. Of course, sir.”

  If this were any other job, I would not tolerate that kind of condescension. But this was the opportunity of a lifetime, and I wasn’t about to risk being kicked off at the next station because I ticked off one of the engineers that ran this place. The pay was triple anything I’d ever been paid before and I got to travel to remote parts of the galaxy where I would never have a chance to go otherwise. As an added bonus, the crew didn’t seem to care if I picked up interesting things that came through the junk stream, which I was turning into my own little creations that I could sell at our next stop.

  I hummed to myself as I gathered up my things and headed down. The best thing about my new gig was that we were working on a massive, government-contracted mining vessel with a skeleton crew. I could go days without seeing another human being and it did wonders for the anxiety that always pooled in my stomach when I was forced into professional, polite conversations.

  It took about ten minutes to get down into the maintenance underbelly that housed the base of the drills, and the subsequent tubes where all their churned-up debris was funneled through to the sorter. Sure enough, one of the tubes had ruptured, spraying a wall with grit, goop, and who knew what else.

  One of the sensors on my cart beeped yellow so I glanced at the display.

  “Space radiation levels slightly elevated,” I said to myself. “Might as well play it safe.”

  Digging through my supplies, I found my anti-rad field and placed it onto my chest. Once it adhered to my jumpsuit, it was just a press of the button and then I was safe from any of those cancerous sorts of mutations that liked to happen when space messed with one’s insides.

  “Let’s get this party started then,” I mused, turning on my music in the earpiece implanted just under my ear. Standard fare for all government and government-contracted employees.

  A lot of people didn’t like cleaning, or repairing, but I did. It was like one of my virtual games, but with real world consequences. I set about patching the tube first. I could flush it once it was repaired and clean the rest of the room while that was going on.

  It was a fairly long, drawn-out process, and by the time it was all finished, I was covered in dirt and sweat. I took a last look around the metal-covered room, which now had a great sparkle to it if I did say so myself, and gave a nod of satisfaction before trundling back to my room.

  “Tube repaired and flushed, and the cleanup is finished. I’m on my way to dump the debris and muck now.”

  “Took you long enough. You’d think you wouldn’t mind putting a rush on it considering how much we’re paying you.”

  “Apologies, sir. I just like to be thorough and leave it better than when I arrived.”

  “Yeah, whatever. Just be quicker on the next one.”

  Maybe if you took care of your ship more, there wouldn’t be so many ‘next ones.’

  I shook that thought out of my head. I didn’t have time to be negative. It was a waste of both energy and brainpower. I turned my music up and continued to the disposal room, daydreaming of my next little project.

  It was easy to slip into a daydream, and I was only half paying attention as I pushed my cart through the ship. Making sure to put on my thick protective gloves, I reached into the waste chamber and started picking out bits to toss in.

  A sheet of buckled metal, some jelly-like liquid, it was all very ho-hum until I felt something pinch my arm.

  “Ow!” I jerked and looked into my cart, expecting to see a sharp piece of shrapnel or bit of warped equipment. Instead, I saw something hanging onto my wrist.

  I screamed, reaching an octave I didn’t know I was capable of. I reared back, whipping my hand about like a complete maniac. There might have been sensible words coming out of my mouth, but I had no idea what they were. I just knew I needed whatever the heck was touching me to let go!

  And boy, did it let go. Like a little, shiny, black missile, the thing went sailing into the far wall where it smacked into the aged, metal surface then slid down to the chemical-disposal shelf.

  I finally stopped screaming and somehow had the wherewithal to grab a piece of junk that could work as a weapon. I brought it up, totally ready to go toe-to-toe with the strange thing that attacked me.

  Except…it wasn’t attacking me. If anything, it was cowering, hurt and shivering on the shelf. Despite everything my brain was warning me, I slowly lowered the pipe in my hand. “I’m sorry, you scared me. You alright there, little guy?”

  The thing stopped shaking and turned to look at me. Or at least that was what I assumed it was doing. It didn’t have any eyes that I could discern, and yet I had the distinct impression that it was indeed seeing me.

  It was a strange critter, all angles and harsh, onyx spikes. It didn’t seem to have legs so much as it would grow random bits to move itself about, then they would shrink back into itself.

  I lowered my arms completely and took a cautious step toward it. “Hey, I’m all about the non-violence, so if you’re not going to eat my brains, I don’t see why I can’t help you out.”

  The little thing let out a trill and it was possibly the most adorable sound I had ever heard. I instantly thought of a basket full of puppies. Its color rolled from black to grey to a dark green, and it cautiously scuttled forward to the edge of the shelf.

  It was the moment of truth. I reached out, trying to quell the anxiety pooling in my stomach, and held out my hand right in front of the little alien. It stood there for several long, painful seconds before taking a cautious step forward onto my hand. When I continued to cooperate, it gingerly climbed closer and closer, u
ntil it was perched on my shoulder.

  “Well,” I murmured to myself, my head trying to wrap about everything that had just happened. “I guess I always wanted a pet.”

  2

  SHIFTING PARADIGM

  I STARED at the little creature intently, noting its movements and habits. As soon as I had arrived in my room, it had scurried off my shoulder and under my standard-issue cot. And then into my shoes. And then out of my shoes and into my own personal scrap bin. I had never thought that I would have to alien-proof my quarters, but I was beginning to think it might be necessary.

  “Higgens!” Dang it, I had still forgotten to turn my comm down. It was obnoxiously loud in my tiny space and my new guest let out a squeal of panic. “Gonzales has some expired blaster cores that need to be disposed of. We just found the case that was lost on the load up. Some idiot labeled it as stims! Can you believe that?”

  “Have them meet me at the lift on their floor. I’ll make sure to have the proper containment unit.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I’ll deliver the message. Be there in ten.”

  At first, it had been strange to me that I only corresponded with the head of crew, Francis Giomatti. Now, I was grateful for it. The thought of having all twenty members of the crew bothering me with every little thing that went wrong—and probably wasn’t even in my job description—made my stomach twist.

  “Alright, so, I gotta go, but I’ll be right back in less than half an ho—” I trailed off as I realized I couldn’t see my new alien friend anywhere. “Um, hello? Little fella?” I walked toward my worktable, looking everywhere for the obsidian guy.

  Worry started to prick at me but that quickly disappeared when I realized something had changed on my desk.

  “Since when do I have two water bottles?” I murmured to myself, reaching for one.

  Only that same water bottle exploded into a dark goop in my hand, then it solidified into the alien.

  I screamed again—I really needed to stop doing that before I blew a vocal cord—but this time, I managed not to throw my friend into a wall. “D-d-did you just…?”

  The thing wiggled, sticking two of its spikes up like little waving arms and turning a gradient of grey and deep blue.

  “Y-you can shapeshift?” I said breathlessly, my mind thoroughly rocked. “You’re like uh…uh, mimic!”

  It trilled, then crawled up my hand once more to sit on my shoulder. “I’m sorry, lad, but you’ve got to stay here.”

  I went to pick him up, but he scurried into my open collar and curled up along the neckline of my work tank underneath. “You know what, that’ll work. If you can hear me, just stay in there.”

  It trilled again and I grabbed my power source containment case then headed out. I had to admit, my heart had never pounded so hard on my way to a simple energy-disposal pickup, but I was pretty sure I didn’t want my crewmates to know that I had picked up a bit of a straggler. I knew the regulations well enough, and that would mean the spacing of an unknown danger. I didn’t want my new sidekick to be hurtled out into the void of space when we were just getting to know each other.

  There was also that thing about it being a species I had never heard of and just learning that it could shapeshift. Which I was pretty sure was impossible.

  The lift doors opened and my heart spiked when I saw Gonzales standing there, half a dozen blaster coils in her hands. She was an impossibly tall woman, and had these dark eyes that just seemed to look through everything. From what little I knew, she was a mix of Mexican and Polynesian, which apparently explained her impressive height of six-foot-six. Granted, I knew almost nothing about Earth culture, considering I had been born on a colony and lived on ships and stations my entire life.

  “Oh, hello there!” she said, professionally pleasant.

  “Hi! I hear you have some cores for me?”

  “Indeed, I do!” she said, beaming and handing them over. I went about putting them into the case, only to feel my little hitchhiker pull against my shirt. Quickly, I pressed it flat with my hand and let out a pathetic cough to cover the noise.

  “You okay there?”

  “Fine! Everything is fine!” I chirped, hastily finishing up with the cores and holding the case flat to my chest. “I’ll make sure these are taken care of!”

  With that, I turned right on my heel and rushed back into the elevator. My mimic friend was going crazy, tickling at my collar and trying to crawl directly out of the front of my shirt.

  “Relax, buddy. We just gotta get to my room.”

  It didn’t listen. Granted, it probably didn’t understand me. It wasn’t like everyone in space automatically spoke English. By the time I reached my room, I was a bit of a mess, and I set the container down and finally freed the mimic from within my shirt.

  “Geez, little dude, what is your problem?”

  It practically erupted from me and ran over to the case, which it jumped up and down on several times.

  “What? You want to see the cores? I guess if you’re that enthusiastic about it.” Leave it to me to travel all of space to find some sort of strange, shapeshifting alien who was some sort of blaster core aficionado. With a shrug, I opened up the slotted, anti-rad case.

  Everything seemed to happen at once. The mimic jumped down it, spreading itself flat in a matter of seconds. It glowed vibrantly for a moment, before suddenly expanding into a bubbling, boiling heap.

  Once more I found myself leaping back in horror. Had I just killed my friend? What if it was the last of its species? Was I a murderer?!

  I didn’t get a direct answer, but the bubbling stopped, and my friend reassembled itself, chirping quite happily.

  ….and about a foot bigger than it was before.

  “Oh my…” I murmured, once again finding myself in utter shock by this strange creature. “You just…” I took a breath. “You just ate my blaster cores!”

  It chirped again, grey and light pink rippling through its body. It had just gone from palm-sized to small dog in seconds, but it seemed nonplussed by the transition.

  “Well, I guess that’s one way to dispose of them safely.”

  I sat down on my cot, the whole day catching up to me. In just a few hours I had made a new friend that just so happened to be an unidentified species, found out it could shapeshift, and devoured things that had nuclear energy in them which would then result in a rapid growth spurt.

  The mimic… Actually, that wasn’t a half-bad name for it. Mimic.

  Anyway, Mimic didn’t seem to pick up on my anxiety and nestled up to my side, trilling with a spacy, fragmented sound that reminded me so much of a cat’s purr. And I couldn’t help but think if our first day was this hectic, that day two was going to be one heck of a wringer.

  3

  ALL YOU CAN EAT BUFFET

  I WOKE up expecting to have company in my bed in the form of a little shapeshifting alien, but instead came to with an odd gap between my arms. I sat up like a shot, my eyes scanning my room for my new friend.

  When I didn’t see him anywhere, I started to panic. That lasted for about a minute before I reminded myself that Mimic could shapeshift and looking for it in its black and spiky form was probably a waste of time.

  “Hello?” I called instead.

  There was a chirp beside my bed and a pillow that had dropped to the floor surged and buckled, warping inward on itself until my friend was sitting there.

  “Hiding as a pillow, were you?” I asked matter-of-factly. As much as I was tempted to baby-talk the cute little thing, how could I be certain that it wasn’t intelligent? Sure, it didn’t look like it, or act like it, but I preferred not to assume. Plus, if anyone overheard me, I could always pretend that I was talking to myself. Harder to do if I was using all that goo-goo-gaa-gaa talk my mother favored when speaking to anyone—or anything—under two feet tall.

  It trilled at me once more before scuttling to my junk bin. In less than a blink, it jumped up onto my desk and then dove straight in.

  “Hey
!” I yelped, stumbling out of bed and rushing to the bin. “I don’t have any energy cores in there, but I would really appreciate it if you didn’t jostle things around. I spent a lot of time collecting those pieces.”

  Two black spikes poked up, waiting there for a moment as if it was debating, before it clambered out. I could have been mistaken, but it seemed like it had grown a slight bit overnight. It was still a small dog-sized, but a very fluffy small dog.

  It chirped at me again as it stepped onto my desk. I assumed it was looking up at me, although that was hard to tell since it had no face. “What’s up friend? Do you need something?”

  It didn’t react, because of course it didn’t understand me, but I had been hoping that it might.

  “Alright, well, I have to make my rounds to the recyclers and make sure everything’s in tip-top shape. You stay here, okay?”

  Again, it didn’t move, so I shrugged and started to gather up my things. Like usual, I assembled my cart, but added my welder to my belt, along with several other miscellaneous things. After all, one never could be too prepared, right?

  When I was finally ready, I headed to my door, only to have Mimic follow me.

  “No,” I said, holding up my hand. “You have to stay here.” It took a few steps back then settled down into what I assumed was a sitting position. “Alright, very good. I’ll be back in a jiffy, I promise.”

  I stepped out and quickly closed the door in front of me, heaving a sigh of relief that it hadn’t tried to squirrel out.

  I turned to go, pushing my cart in front of me, only to hear some sort of scuffling behind me. Looking back to my door, I saw a thin, burnt piece of metal sliding out from the minute gap at the bottom. I watched, a little amazed and a little horrified, as the long strip worked itself through until it was all the way out in the hall. From there, it popped right back into my shapeshifting friend.