by Rolf Nelson
The Stars Came Back
by
Rolf Nelson
Copyright © 2013
by Rolf Nelson
All Rights Reserved
Disclaimer: Any similarities to real people, places, events, calendars, numerical systems, languages, space aliens, politicians, technologies, scumbags, misanthropes, punctuation marks, priests, alphabets, monastic orders, recipes, or pets is coincidental, accidental, a paradoxical distortion of the space-time continuum, or by chance. Unless it’s on purpose. Your guess is as good as mine. Maybe better.
To
My family, whom I hope will always be free;
browncoats everywhere;
everyone that wants a good adventure story
with something to think about inside.
Author’s Note
I trust YOU to put a price on the book, according to the value you put on the story. This book has no DRM (Digital Rights Management), so if you bought it, feel free to convert it to whatever format is most useful to you, because you bought the story, not a particular file format or storage location. If you did NOT buy it and like the story please buy a copy so I can afford to keep writing. The book is a self-published first novel, so it is inexpensive; if you REALLY liked it, compare it to the cost of a typical 160,000 word novel written by a big name author from a big name publisher, and consider buying more than one copy accordingly.
The website for the book is, shockingly, www.TheStarsCameBack.com. Please visit!
This was written in a format somewhat similar to a movie script, though it does not strictly follow those conventions. It is much too long to be a proper movie, more like a movie of the week or half-season series. It morphed into a novel while being written. It is based on what you can see and hear. There is little getting inside people’s heads (trust me, you don’t want to go there; very cluttered). You have watched movies and know how directors and producers cut and edit dialog and action, so just pretend you’re watching a movie while reading.
A few quick formatting notes:
OC - Off camera, you can’t see the person or avatar on screen when they are speaking
VO - Voice Over, someone talking over the action, like a narrator
INSET - A quick showing of a close-up, such as a thing in someone’s hand
INT - Interior scene
EXT - Exterior scene
DAY, NIGHT - Used to indicate lighting or specific setting
Appendix I has basic ship drawings.
Appendix II has background on the universe, terraforming, some deleted “scenes,” etc.
Thanks VERY much to Paul, RabidAlien, Peggy, Michelle, Ubu, Sendarius, Defens, Joe, David, and the rest for their criticism, proof reading, editing, Latin assistance, and commentary to improve the final version. Cover art by FiscusMedia.
Contents
The Stars Came Back
Ordinary Life
Harbin
Tajemnica
Changes
Part II
First Mission
Intruders
Ammo Run
HMS Hussein
Farm
Transportation Job
Air Defense
Part III
Raptus Regaliter
Meeting Taj
The Hull Truth
Tau Piper
One Day War
Irony
L1
Star Power
Epilogue
Appendix I
Appendix II
Ordinary Life
“Landing”
White screen
Bells, sirens, klaxons, and warnings are sounding. Roars, drones, thumping, and bangs beat the air like all hell has broken loose aboard a ship.
FADE IN
INT - DAY - Bridge/cockpit of a small starship
More buzzing, danger signals, many blinking warning lights and computer voice warnings about exceeded limits and system failures. Helton Strom (clean shaven with shortish hair in his late 30s, well built, wearing a simple jumpsuit uniform), is strapped into the pilot chair with one hand on the control yoke and the other hand flipping switches and making adjustments on the controls in front of and around him. The whole cockpit is shaking him and everything in it violently. He is trying to get a ship in much trouble under control and grimaces as he struggles to get it back to normal. Things go from bad to worse with more flashing and audible warnings such as "DRIVE CORE OVER TEMP" and "Hull Breach!" Helton goes sideways, then upside down with objects falling past him, and back to hanging sideways in his harness. Smoke rises, coming straight at him from his left, and briefly he looks at in surprise. There are a couple of loud BANGS and popping as if equipment is breaking, another puff of smoke, a final lurch, then all the shaking stops. The lights in the control panels and screens blank out and go black. He hangs sideways, silently, motionlessly, an expression of tired fatalism on his face.
Instructor: (OC, drolly) Well, that's a first.
Camera pulls back to reveal that there is a man strapped in next to Helton, looking at him wondering what to say. He's also in a jumpsuit, with "Flight Instructor" where his name tag would be.
Instructor: (Slightly incredulously) You managed to crash... and break... a flight simulator doing a simulated crash landing. Impressive. Test again after it's repaired?
Helton looks blankly at the screen in front of him, shakes his head slightly, and sighs heavily through pursed lips.
FADE OUT
Kwon’s
FADE IN
EXT - DAY - Outside a diner with “Kwon’s Kosher Cajun Curry” on the flashing neon sign
Camera slowly zooms in toward the door.
CUT TO
INT - DAY - Interior of shiny, cheerful looking diner
A half dozen patrons sit here and there, a news show drones quietly on a corner screen, some Bollywood-Bluegrass music bounces in the background. A single patron (Adam, older, slender, weedy looking gent) sits at the counter in front of a cup of coffee chatting with Kwon Fogel (a mixed-race far easterner in his 60’s with a yarmulke on his head), behind the counter who is topping off Adam’s cup.
Helton walks in to the tinkling of a bell.
Kwon looks up and smiles and reflexively starts to say “Welcome,” but sees who it is and the expression on Helton’s face, and instead pours a cup of coffee, grabs a bowl full of something from behind the counter, and places it out a seat over from Adam. Helton nods a greeting to Kwon and Adam, and sits down silently at his spot, adjusts the bowl in front of him slightly, takes hold of the cup, and turns it slowly but doesn’t drink.
Helton: (Looking into his cup, to no one in particular) Nope.
Adam: Ah, you’ll pass next time.
Kwon: Well, everyone has to be bad at something.
Helton: Maybe, but not this bad… I broke the sim.
Adam: (Hides his chuckle behind a sip of coffee) Fifth time isn’t a charm, eh?
Helton: Guess not.
Kwon: (Wiping counter) Keep teaching, then?
Helton: (Shrugs) Dunno. Next cycle doesn’t start for three weeks.
Adam: Finish one more cycle, you can celebrate the same career for more than three years.
Kwon: He’s right, then that would be, what, fourth time you stayed somewhere long enough to qualify for a pay bump?
Helton: Yeah, but it’s not going anywhere.
Helton picks up a spoon and absently stirs the stuff in his bowl.
Kwon: (Shaking head in quiet exasperation) Of course it’s not; new kids each time, same material. You knew that when you started.
Helton: I know, but I thought it would be… different… each cycle. But every change I try to make gets blocked by the admin, so it grinds on the same mediocre path as th
e cycle before.
Adam: You always think that.
Helton: Huh?
Kwon: (Pointing out the obvious that been said many times before) Each job, wanting to make a difference, be unique, be really good at it. Always end up feeling-
Helton: -utterly replaceable. Yeah. Sad, ain’t it?
Kwon: You don’t need to save the world…
Helton: Don’t want to. Just want to find my place in it.
Kwon: Then pick a place, and make it work. Think I always wanted to be here my whole life?
Helton takes a drink of coffee, swirls it around, looking contemplative.
Adam: Look at the bright side.
Helton looks questioningly at him.
Adam: (Sets cup down) For the first time, in how many career attempts? Seven? Eight?-
Kwon: Nine, don’t forget that geology thing.
Adam: -Nine attempts, you finally found something that you aren’t good at, so you can quit thinking it might be the one perfect career. Maybe poetry in dead languages, maybe mechanic, maybe soldiering-
Helton: Don’t want to be too good at that.
Adam: -maybe teaching or cards or terraforming, but not piloting. It’s progress, see?
Helton looks at him, then grins and chuckles.
Helton: Well, that’s one way of looking at it, I guess.
Adam: Each person’s gotta find his own niche… you’ll find yours. Eventually. (Then, jokingly half under his breath) About the time judges are held accountable around here.
Adam and Helton sit silently at the counter for a moment sipping coffee, looking at the screen in the corner, while Kwon does busywork behind the counter. On the news screen, images of marching troops and tanks roll by for a few moments. Then a “NEWS FLASH” announcement pops up, and a pretty announcer replaces the soldiers.
Newscaster: (At higher volume) This just in: A passenger ship was forced into Bradbury Four Five One, when it caught a swirl as The Deep pulled back that left the planet accessible for the first time in almost five hundred years. Bradbury has two planets being terraformed, and some TFPs appear to still be operating on automatic. Bioactivity is level three or lower, and perhaps both planets have been returned to a state of nature. Scientists had high hopes for these worlds, as the terraforming teams were from among the best geoscientists of the day.
Sound fades down into the background and camera focus returns to Helton.
Helton: “State of nature.” (Snort, then sarcastically) Hell of a euphemism for “Everyone died.”
Adam: (Musing) Wonder what percent water it is? Five hundred years of converting silicates and carbonates into hydro is a lot of cubes. Might be worth checking out.
Helton: Depends on how many terraformers have been working, what sort of rock it had, what sort of plan they had. Could be half… Might be less than 10%.
Images of the planet flash up on the screen.
Kwon: News Full Wall.
The images now expand to take up most of the available back wall, magnifying them significantly. The planet looks mostly shades of tan, very few clouds, one tiny ice cap, and a few little slivers of equatorial water as the image rotates.
Helton: (Squinting at it a bit to see details) Ouch. Looks less than 2% water, few clouds. Plan must have been a bad one. Or else too many talkers and not enough doers.
Kwon: But they said it had good geo guys?
Helton: Maybe, but that was one of the early government-run ones, back when they were still sorting out the leftovers from the atmo CO2 fiasco. A lot of smart people have bad plans. That’s, what? A dozen terraformed planets that have come out of the Black in the last three years? Dead, hanging on, or thriving, and about the same success rate from the privately funded amateurs as the big government programs with lots of experts. Just shows most folks really don’t know as much as they think they do. Heck, this place was almost a bust early on.
Kwon: If a few top idiots in office don’t get their act together, it might be one yet.
Kwon waves at the screen and the news show goes back to a regular-sized screen and lower volume of war-related news in the corner.
Kwon: So, what now?
Helton shrugs, holds out his cup for a refill. Kwon pours some in, then goes to fill Adam’s cup. Adam pulls his away.
Adam: (Jokingly) Hey, not that stuff! I like my coffee like my women: fresh, hot, black, and sweet.
Helton: (In mock confusion) Then why are you married to old, cold, bitter, and pale?
Adam: (Straight faced) Family tradition.
From the back room a shrill voice calls out angrily.
Adam’s Wife: (OC) Adam! ADAM!!
A look of feigned fear crosses his face, and Adam downs his remaining coffee and bolts for the door.
Kwon and Helton watch him leave, grinning. It’s not the first time something like that happened.
Helton scoops up a spoonful from the bowl and pauses before he puts it in his mouth, looking at it. He looks at Kwon, a look of skepticism on his face.
Kwon: New experiment. You’ll like it.
Helton sniffs it deeply, smiles, and takes a bite. He starts chewing. He chews slower, then waves his hand to signal he wants something because the food is so spicy hot. Kwon, grinning, hands him a ready glass. Helton gulps some down.
Helton: (Breathing exaggeratedly and fanning his mouth with his hand) Holy COW!
Kwon: Here.
Kwon hands Helton a magnum sized seasoning canister. Helton looks at it.
INSET - A two liter container labeled ARMY brand “BLAND” seasoning. “Kills flavor FAST!”
Helton sprinkles some on his bowl and stirs it in. While he does this, Kwon talks.
Kwon: You said you wanted more food with some kick. So?
Helton: (Tentatively tries another sample) Success. A little less kick next time.
Kwon: Better make up your mind on the teaching contract. Pretty soon they won’t be approving job transfers unless you pay the right people more than you can afford, or put a uniform back on.
Helton grunts acknowledgment. He takes another spoonful. There is a beep, and a screen in the countertop in front of him displays the words “Message for Helton from Blondie [display] [forward] [delete]”.
Kwon looks down, sees the notice, and politely turns away to fiddle with something facing away from the counter.
(Camera view changes to counter level, looking at Helton)
Helton taps the counter and scans the message while spooning some stew into his mouth, then taps the counter again to clear the message. He looks up thoughtfully.
Helton: How far to Niven III A?
Kwon: Normally about a week each way.
Helton: (Looks thoughtful for a moment, shakes his head dismissively) Won’t work.
Kwon: (Trying to elicit more info) Recently it’s been closer to a day coming back ‘cause of a big swirl headed this way, sometimes less going out with a lucky midpoint transfer…
Helton: (Thinking out loud) Hmmm… Two days each way either end conventional, a week transit there, a day back. Less than a week grounded. Tight. (Shakes head slightly)
Kwon looks inquiringly with raised eyebrow.
Helton: Sis and her other half moved there a few years ago. She’d like me to visit, and maybe work for him for a bit. Needs a reliable techie. Things are growing fast, between kids and folks fleeing the bombings and conscriptions on III B. In any case, she definitely sounds like he needs some help to get some things straightened out. Only three weeks ‘till the next cycle starts… It could work, but…
Helton shakes his head, dismissing the idea. Kwon rapidly punches up a few things on a screen behind the counter. Popping up on a wall screen is a departure schedule at the local spaceport. He scans it quickly.
Kwon: There’s an independent in port headed out this afternoon going that way. Get away, do you good. If you’re a day or two late, they’ll hold the contract for you.
Helton: Dunno. Awful tight margin.
Kwon: (Persuasive) You
can bring back some spices that are expensive here from Nath Imp/Exp as personal baggage. Make you twenty percent, save me fifty. Pays your ticket.
Helton pauses for moment, indecisively, then stands up, pats his pockets, realizes he doesn’t have his wallet.
Helton: Ah, crap. It must have dropped out in the sim!
Kwon: (Dismissively) That’s OK, cash is a pain if they think you’re using it too often. Pay when you’re back.
Helton gives a quick wave and heads for the door in a hurry.
Kwon: (Smiling) Happy transit. Vaya con Dios!
FADE TO BLACK
Security
FADE IN
INT - DAY - Spaceport near check-in area
Port is starkly lit and utilitarian, clean but run down, not a lot of people, mostly queued up and looking resigned to fate. Focus and pan on Helton as he walks hurriedly along. He is dressed in a brown travelers coat (heavy duster with a longer cape, wide cuffs, layers, and lots of pockets), waistcoat, khaki cargo pants, hiking boots, and carries a half-full large duffel bag. Helton looks a bit rough-and-ready and tossed together. As he scans the reader boards and heads for a counter he passes a pair of security guards in light body armor carrying carbines (uniforms look like typical police-state blues). They eye him suspiciously, then exchange glances. Helton is focused on getting to the counter, oblivious to them. He reaches the counter behind one elderly man (Art, dressed very neatly and looking dapper) talking to the middle aged, bored looking, grossly overweight female check-in agent behind the counter. She wears a sharply creased but ill-fitting light blue uniform with Sam Browne belt, high collar, and various award ribbons next her badge.
Art: Yes, that’s right. Business trip again.
Checker: Job?
Art: Fine arts dealer. I’m taking several pieces of commission work for a final inspection and delivery.
