Blackout Series Books 1-2 (A Post-Apocalyptic Dystopian Thriller)

by Adam Drake

  “Who?” Ash said as a red indicator light showed that a clamp was applied to the landing gear near the rear of the ship. “What the hell?” When he tried to override it, his heart sunk at a realization. “There's a damned clamp on one of the rear struts. It can't be unlocked from inside!”

  Movement on one of the monitors drew his attention. Stacks was running up to the hatch, and he looked angry.

  “Uh-oh,” Ash said. He tried to lock the hatch down from the cockpit but he did not have time to rewrite the security codes. Stacks simply palmed the hatch open and ran in. “Going to have a drama here in a moment.”

  Femke finally destroyed the auto-cannon and glanced at the scout. Dark worms covered its surface and gunports fired pointblank into them, yet they kept on coming. “I'll deal with the clamp, you deal with your guest!” She ran out from the cover of the bunker and raced under the belly of the transport.

  Ash dropped the engines to idle and ran down the main hall, again. Just as he approached the anti-way he saw the inner airlock hatch swing open.

  Stacks knew someone had to be in the cockpit and without bothering to look, started firing blindly down the hall.

  Ash felt a shot glance off his side and burn a hole through his suit's light armor. Shouting in pain, he ducked into a small alcove and returned fire.

  “You okay?” Femke commed.

  “Just great, honey,” Ash said looking at the smoking cauterized flesh poking through his suit. “My guest brought a welcome basket.” He fired again.

  Moving slower than she wanted Femke found the large clamp attached to one of the massive landing gears. This effectively prevented the ship from flying away without tearing a hole in the hull. As she crouched down to examine the clamp's datapad a loud screeching made her turn.

  Outside the scout was attempting to take off. But tons of angry waste-worms crawled over the ship's surface biting into the hull plating. Only one gunport remained active, the rest having been destroyed. Femke caught a glimpse of Klayd through the cockpit glass looking frantic. The ship bucked but could not lift off. The engine cells glowed hot with the effort which fried worms that got to close.

  Tearing her gaze away she refocused on the clamp. “I need an override.”

  “Give me a moment, dear, and I'll ask,” Ash said as he dived across the hall and into a small kitchen area. Stacks had stopped shooting wildly and instead waited to make more accurate shots.

  Ash rolled into a crouch behind a fixed table. A shot ricocheted off its shiny surface and bore a hole through the kitchen's auto-chef. “Mind giving me the codes for the clamp?” Ash shouted.

  “Eat slag!” Stacks hollered and fired again.

  “Sorry, honey,” Ash commed, ducking back. “You'll have to do it the fun way.”

  “It's always the fun way that sucks the most,” Femke said as she took a few steps back. Ignoring the screeching chaos outside, she aimed at the clamp's casing and started firing.

  In the kitchen, Ash tried to get a bead on Stacks, who kept popping his gun around the corner to shoot. Ash was getting frustrated. “I don't have time for this!” he shouted.

  Stacks didn't respond, but stopped shooting.

  Concerned, Ash backed away down the length of the table, then spotted a doorway leading into another hall. Thinking he could circle around and flank Stacks he bolted toward it.

  Just as he crossed into the hall, he crashed right into Stacks who was trying to do the same thing.

  After a moment of surprised confusion the men grabbed for the other's pistol. They slammed each other against the walls and bounced back and forth down the hallway.

  Ash was dismayed to realize Stacks was stronger than him and knew it would only be a matter of time before he lost this wrestling match.

  With renewed energy, Ash head-butted Stacks, but it resulted in them both seeing stars. Still in each other's grip they fell through a doorway and into the cockpit.

  They stumbled about with Ash dropping his pistol with a curse. Stacks, nose bleeding, grinned into Ash's face and heaved them both onto the cockpit's paneling. Lights flashed on and the engine roared to life, again.

  Outside, Femke's rifle shot was only damaging the casing slightly. Slinging the rifle over her shoulder, she reached into the damaged hole and began ripping the casing off with her bare hands, all while screaming profanities.

  To her surprise she pulled out a piece of an inner mechanism and the clamp popped open, freeing the landing strut.

  “Honey, I did it! You're good to-,” she started to say when the entire transport lifted up a short distance then abruptly banked. Femke barely had time to jump up as the landing gear smashed into her. Stunned she clung on for dear life as the transport moved out of the cave, its roof scraping loudly along the cave's ceiling.

  As the ship banked, Ash lost his balance and accidentally bashed his forehead into Stacks's face, again. The second time was the charm and Stacks went cross-eyed, collapsing to the floor.

  Ash grabbed the gun from the other man's limp hand and tried to focus his blurred vision on the cockpit panels which were blinking madly with proximity warnings. Somewhere a klaxon rattled off.

  The transport finally scraped its way out of the cave and shot out into the clearing.

  The Constabulary scout had managed to lift up several meters as worms slipped off its hull like nightmarish party streamers.

  Then the transport collided with it.

  Beneath, Femke screamed as the top of the scout's bubbled hull sheered off the landing strut directly opposite of her.

  Then they were lifting off. Below, the scout wobbled under the loss of lift and its engines sputtered out. As it fell to the ground, it was immediately overrun with hundreds of worms.

  Clinging to the landing gear, Femke grinned into the wind as the transport accelerated up over the hills.

  “You were right, honey ,” she shouted into the comms. “This is way more fun than our honeymoon!”

  PART TWO

  “We did it!” Ash cheered as he piloted the transport around jagged hills. “For a second there I didn't think we'd make it.”

  “Honey,” Femke commed.

  “Yeah?”

  “I'm still under the ship!”

  “Oh, right. Hang tight and I'll find a spot to land.”

  “No, don't! You're missing one of the rear landing struts.”

  “Look at that, you're right. What do you want me to do, then?”

  “Just take it low by some cover and I'll climb over to the hatch.”

  “Will do. Hang on.”

  Ash slowed the transport to a stop and descended into a narrow valley. Once he locked it into a hover he gave Femke the all clear.

  Clinging to the landing gear, Femke peered at the hull's skin for the hand-holds which lined every ship. They made repairs much safer when crews needed to maneuver around outside in space. She found the closest one and grabbed it. The wind buffeted at her with ferocity, willing her to slip and tumble into the darkness below.

  Carefully she picked her way across the ship's belly hand over hand, legs dangling. Her arms and shoulders burned with the effort.

  “You okay?” Ash asked.

  “Yup, just needed to make a detour around the damaged section.”

  “How bad is it?”

  “Bad enough that we might need a land-yard. If we did too many landings without the strut, the hull integrity will eventually be compromised.”

  She made it to the starboard side of the ship and pulled herself up so she was next to the hatch. “You lost your ramp, too.”

  “Figures. I didn't really have time to retract it since Stacks here was busy trying to kill me.”

  Femke palmed the keypad, but it beeped in protest.

  “Hatch please!” she said. Her energy was nearly gone, she could feel it. And with the wind tearing at her body it wouldn't take much to lose her grip.

  “Sorry,” Ash said.

  The hatch slid open and Femke performed a last bit of acroba
tics to get herself around the entryway and inside. She flopped to the floor on her back and the hatch closed. Merciful silence replaced the screaming wind in her ears.

  The inner airlock hatch opened and startled her out of sleep.

  Ash looked down at her with concern. “You stopped answering my comms. Are you all tapped out?”

  “Yup,” Femke said, groggy. “Gonna need a hand here.”

  Ash helped her to her feet and carried her along down the main hall. “You did good, honey.” Ash said as he kissed her cheek.

  “We both did. And did you notice?”

  “Notice what?”

  “I didn't shoot you this time.”

  Ash chuckled. “You didn't have an opportunity.”

  He guided her into the cockpit and eased her into one of the padded chairs. She sunk into it and smiled.

  “Nice and comfy,” she said, but the smile vanished when she saw Stacks hogtied and out cold on the floor at her feet. “Oh, he's still here?”

  Ash had put restrainers on the man's legs and arms, cinching them tight behind his back. Stacks looked like a sacrificial offering that nobody wanted.

  “Yeah, he is. Although I did debate tossing him out the airlock once we made orbit.”

  “Orbit won't be happening for a while, if ever,” Femke said.

  Ash patted the console. “Too hot?”

  Femke shrugged weakly. The motion made her look all the more adorable to Ash. “We can't know until we've done a complete check.” She removed her goggles and breather in one practiced motion. A long ponytail of silver-white hair spilled down to her waist.

  “Check of what?”

  “Of everything.” She looked down at Stacks and nudged him with her foot. “Is this transport hot?”

  Stacks didn't respond. Instead, he snored softly.

  Femke frowned. “His face is mashed up good. Was that you?”

  Ash nodded.

  “Good boy,” she said and then made an effort to sit up.

  “Take it easy. You need time to get your strength back. Do you want me to get you something?”

  “Yeah, a new landing strut. But, no, thanks. I'll be fine after a good long snooze.” And with that, she drifted off to sleep, slumped in the chair.

  Ash smiled at her and felt his heart beat faster. She was such a beautiful woman, he thought. And great to have around when you needed to move something heavy.

  Not happy with Stacks being so close to his sleeping wife, restraints or no restraints, Ash decided to move him. He found a utility closet barren of anything usable and dragged his prisoner into it. After double checking the restraints he closed the door and locked it. They'd figure out what to do with him later.

  While Femke slumbered away, he decided to check the rest of the ship. He routed the control panel readouts through to his pocket scanner and with scatter-pistol in hand went exploring.

  The transport was of typical design with four main decks and two subdecks. There were nine crew quarters with lots of space, the kitchen, a rec room with a massive view screen at one end, and the engine room nestled in the transport's middle.

  Everything was barren. There were no personal items or even basic supplies. It was if no one had used the ship in a very long time.

  He climbed down from a subdeck into the main cargo hold. Huge stacks of collapsed crating lined either side, meters deep. There were a couple of loaders, and lines of secure strappings and clamps.

  He checked the massive rear door's datapad with his scanner and found everything was good and tight as it should be. Other than the starboard hatch this was the only other way in or out of the ship.

  Hands on his hips, he stood in the middle of the cavernous chamber and shook his head. Junk. Complete junk. The only good thing about this transport was that it still flew. He didn't even know if it could safely break orbit, he'd have to do a deep diagnostic of its systems to be sure.

  But it did save them. Without the presence of this ship, he and Femke might not be alive right now. And despite its age, he figured they could trade it in for a small jumper or even a skipper class shuttle. He didn't care which. He'd take whatever could get them off of this rock once and for all.

  “Did you fix the landing gear, yet?” Femke's sleepy voice eased over the ship comms.

  Ash smiled. “Nope. Sorry. I know miracles are my specialty, but that one will just have to wait.” He headed back to the cockpit and found Femke hunched over the console analyzing readouts. “You should still be sleeping.”

  She shrugged. “I dreamed of giant purple millipedes chasing me. Wonder where I got that from.” She looked over at him and her eyes widened in shock. “You're hurt!”

  Ash glanced down at his burnt flesh at his side. “Oh, this? This is nothing an injection or two can't remedy.”

  She moved to him, worried. Examining the wound closer she said, “This needs to be taken care of now. Where's the medical bay?”

  Ash smiled at her concern. “I don't think they have one. Not that I saw. But I'm fine.”

  Shaking her head, Femke looked around and spotted a medical cabinet secreted in a panel. She opened it and sighed. Empty.

  “There's nothing on this boat,” Ash said. “Not a lick of anything. No food rations, or basic supplies or even fresh water.”

  “Great,” Femke said, looking frustrated. Her face tightened up like she was going to explode.

  Ash hugged her and after a moment the tension in her body melted away as she hugged him back.

  “What'll we do?” She mumbled into his chest.

  “I think we should move the ship farther away.”

  “Away?”

  “We're only ten clicks from the bunker. If the Constable was linked up before he went down then others will come looking soon. Best we put some distance from that in case they do a search of the area.”

  She nodded in agreement. “Okay, you fly, I'll supervise.”

  They eased the transport up out of the valley and moved it onwards keeping below the clouds. Whether the ship could survive in the winds above was not something they needed to test right now.

  After twenty minutes of flying Femke asked, “What do we do with him?”

  “Stacks?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  He thought for a moment, then said. “Slave trade.”

  Femke burst out laughing, a pleasant sound to Ash's ears. “You want to be a slaver now? As if we're not in enough trouble as it is. Currently, we face countless years in various penitentiaries over several systems. But you want to take on a crime which could get us the death penalty?”

  Ash shrugged with a smile. “Just a thought. Figured he deserved it after trying to kill us and all.”

  Femke shook her head, her silver-white hair glinting under the cockpit lights. “Well, we always could...” She left the sentence hanging.

  “No,” Ash said emphatically. “We're not killing him. We don't do that, Fem.”

  “He tried to kill us! Shot at me and tried to beat you to death.”

  “Yeah, but that's different.”

  “How so?”

  “We were fighting. Locked in battle. Now he can't hurt either of us, so he's not a threat.”

  “At our mercy.”

  “And mercy is what we'll show him,” Ash said with a harder tone.

  Femke knew better than to push her husband when he was like this and dropped the subject. “How are we for distance?”

  “At least a hundred clicks now,” Ash said with a shrug. “But we'll never be far enough. That scout would have snagged an image of you and even logged this transport, we won't be getting very far.”

  “I doubt it did. I was all covered up with my headgear.”

  “You now they can I.D. with less than that,” Ash said then noticed a flashing indicator on the engineering console. “What now?”

  Femke pulled the screen over to her seat and tapped at it. “Looks like there's something up with the core.”

  Ash sighed loudly. “Great! Just what we don
't need now.”

  Femke waved a hand. “Relax, it's only a fluctuation. Nothing terminal. Or, at least I hope it isn't.”

  “Should I put down somewhere? Maybe try to land the back end on a slope?”

  She shook her head. “Too risky. Would only comprise the hull integrity. Drop down into a hover, again. I'll go take a look.” She eased out of the chair like a drunk after an all night bender.