Lords of Mayhem

by Angelique Anjou

  LORDS OF MAYHEM

  By

  Angelique Anjou

  © copyright by Angelique Anjou

  Cover Art by Jenny Dixon

  ISBN 978-1-60394-

  Smashwords Edition

  New Concepts Publishing

  Lake Park, GA 31636

  www.newconceptspublishing.com

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.

  Prologue

  For a time the signature particular to living things was so faint that he wondered if it was only hope that made him believe what he wanted to believe, that, at long last, he was drawing near life forms from which he could take more than sustenance. He began to wonder if his wanderings had robbed him of his sanity and left him with nothing but the imaginings of a mind deprived too long of anything to feed upon beyond itself.

  Regardless of his doubts, though, he turned to follow the faint ripples that called to him. There could be no harm in checking. He had nothing to lose but the loneliness that ate at him and seemed to drain him of will as quickly as he drew sustenance from the energy around him to maintain his life form.

  The closer he came to the star system across the vast ocean of nothingness, however, the more certain he became that it was not his mind playing tricks upon him, filling him with hope that he had found a harbor when there was none for him.

  There was life here.

  He would be content, he told himself, if it was no more than the fragile beginnings of life. Even microbes would give his mind a challenge, would give him something when he had had nothing for so long that he could scarcely bear to look into his own mind any longer. He would study them and, once he understood the seedlings, mayhap he would experiment with them for a time, see what he might do to coax them into evolving.

  Mayhap he would even build his own world, he thought.

  That thought appealed to him as nothing had in eons.

  His own world, a place in the vast universe cunningly contrived only for him where none would challenge his right to exist, where he need not forever concern himself that he trespassed. A place where he must always carefully guard what he was to keep from frightening the primitive beings that had claimed it first, or that he need worry that he might inadvertently crush.

  Mayhap he could mold it into the image of his own world—lost so long ago that his memories of it had begun to dim and he had begun to worry it might be lost even to his memory.

  It was born in upon him, however, even as he began to consider that possibility and to toy with the puzzle of how he might bring it about, that the life forms he had sensed were much more advanced than mere microbes. These were complex organisms, life forms with intelligence, far more advanced than the race of beings he had left behind.

  It wasn’t a world at all. They had devised a habitat to support their life forms far from their own world.

  How clever of them!

  The realization sent a surge of emotion through his mind that he had not felt in so long that it took him a time to figure out what it was. Excitement, he finally decided, almost disturbed that it sent such a powerful ripple through his psyche that he nearly produced a heartbeat, became aware of his corporeal form as he had not been for ages.

  He tamped it.

  The meager energy he could draw was barely enough to sustain the spark of life within him. Until he understood what sort of beings they were, he could not afford to allow them to discover him when he was so weak. He was vulnerable. In his current state, it would be all too easy for them to extinguish the life force he had so carefully husbanded throughout his long travels.

  Intelligence did not necessarily eliminate the possibility that they would be hostile to another life form, he reminded himself.

  Chapter One

  There was an air of almost hysterical excitement threading the party in progress in the dining/rec hall of the space station dubbed Last Stop by the crew. Jubilation filled the hearts of even the most levelheaded and serious among the twenty souls aboard the station on the outer rim of the solar system officially named SP-13, Staging Platform 13. And, although, technically, there was supposed to be a skeleton crew on duty to monitor the myriad of specialized equipment that had just come fully online, in actuality everyone was partying.

  Medical Officer, Anya Rambo felt a stirring of uneasiness as she spied three more of the duty crew slipping into the room and sidling as unobtrusively as possible toward the spiked punch bowl.

  That made it unanimous. There wasn’t a single soul on board the space station that hadn’t imbibed—including her. She was never really off duty, however, since she was the only medic on the station and she never drank more than ‘sociably’, not as sociably as some people who called themselves social drinkers. Rather, she accepted the drink handed to her and sipped it slowly and rarely indulged in more than one, even when she was technically off duty.

  She’d learned from hard experience that she couldn’t afford, ever, to completely relax because the moment she decided to behave irresponsibly someone got sick or someone got hurt.

  With a strenuous effort, she shook off her uneasiness. The shields were up and besides, they were at the very frontier of open space. It was highly unlikely that anything could possibly go wrong—now.

  When they’d arrived at the space station nearly a year ago to replace the previous crew, the station had only been about seventy five percent complete. They’d been expected to bring SP-13 up to one hundred percent completion within the year, and they’d done it in ten and half months.

  They had every reason to celebrate. Not only had they brought the job in weeks early, but now they could look forward to going home.

  Anya felt her own pulse quicken at the thought.

  Only three months and she’d feel real gravity pulling at her again, be breathing real air, not tanked in—sort of. At least once she set foot on Terra Firma again, she could walk outside if only briefly. It would be fall, her favorite time of the year. In the deep south where she’d grown up, it would still be hot during the day, but pleasantly crisp at night. The leaves on the trees would be turning. The sunsets would be stunning.

  Wryly, she smiled. It was the little girl still in her that got such a thrill out of the fall. Fall was festival time. The fairs and carnivals made their rounds—or at least had in her childhood. And then there were the holidays.

  Ironically, even though the ancient mythologies that had spawned the celebrations were all but forgotten by the vast majority of those who celebrated them, everyone still hailed the holidays with enthusiasm.

  She did, even though she hadn’t had anyone much to celebrate with in years. Her family hadn’t exactly been prolific and those still living were scattered to the four winds.

  She made it a point to join her sister’s family when she could, though, and sometimes her brother even made it to the ‘gathering’.

  Her niece and nephew weren’t going to know her when she got back. They’d been so young when she left, she knew they wouldn’t remember their Aunt Anya. The thought caused her a pang and she pushed it aside, smiling as Laine caught her eye across the room and began to make his way toward her.

  Captain Tim Laine had more than his fair share of charm, and he’d been kind enough to bestow it upon Anya at every opportunity. She wasn’t really interested in becoming another notch on his bedpost, though.

  Well—she was. She found him attractive. Unfortunately, their community was a painfully small one, too small for such a thing to go unnoticed. And Laine had already made the rounds among the other female crewmembers—a couple of times. She didn’t mind the idea of recreational sex. I
n fact, she was damned horny and the punch wasn’t helping, but she preferred a privacy that was non-existent aboard the space station. She supposed that made her a spoil sport, because half the fun everyone had on board was gossiping about who was getting it.

  They called her the Ice Maiden behind her back, and they weren’t terribly subtle about it either. She viewed the sobriquet with a mixture of irritation and amusement, mostly because it was so childish. One would think people would eventually outgrow the inclination to call names, but obviously they never did.

  “I’m surprised you joined us, but glad,” Laine murmured as he reached her, giving her one of his practiced ‘undressing’ gazes.

  As certain as she was that it was practiced, Anya still felt her pulse jump upwards a notch.

  He was good. She’d give him that. It didn’t hurt that he was also pretty much the best looking male on the space station—not that he had a lot of competition in that department. The crew hadn’t been chosen for their appearance but rather their expertise and beauty so rarely went with brains!

  She smiled coolly. “Mmm. Even the Ice Maiden likes punch,” she responded a little tartly, knowing he was the one who’d first coined the name the crew enjoyed bandying about behind her back.

  He had the grace to redden slightly. He shrugged. “If the name bothers you ….”

  Anya chuckled. “I’ve got nothing to prove. But thanks for offering.”

  He frowned, taking a long drink from his glass. “Recreational sex is good for morale.”

  “But I’m a bitch,” she reminded him. “You know, cold. And I’m sort of choosy about who I let inside of me.”

  His good humor vanished. “You are aware that it’s expected?”

  “Unofficially, of course.”

  “They told me you weren’t a team player.”

  Anya chuckled, but shrugged. “Individuality still isn’t a crime, though. As I said, I’m picky, and I’m just not so needy for release that I’m willing to take what’s available. I can wait.”

  Anger glittered in his eyes, but he kept his face a mask of amusement. “Mind if I ask who you’re saving it for?”

  “No.”

  “Who?”

  She smiled at him. “I said I didn’t mind if you asked. I didn’t say I’d answer. Excuse me? I think I’ll just go check and make sure the duty crew’s still sober enough to read their instrument panels.”

  That comment really ticked him off. As taken aback as he was by her abrupt departure, he fell into step beside her as she left the rec room and headed down the corridor toward main operations. “You’re overstepping your bounds, Rambo,” he said tightly.

  Anya sent him a look of surprise that was only partly feigned. “You object to me checking to make sure we don’t have a drunk manning the monitors?”

  His lips tightened. “Nobody’s had more than two drinks.”

  “So you did see them sneaking in to imbibe?”

  He caught her arm, dragging her to a stop and pulling her around to face him. “I know my duties,” he ground out.

  “Well, if my checking on them is just going to piss ….” She didn’t get the rest of the sentence out. The station’s alarm system blared to life deafeningly.

  It went through both of them like a current of electricity. For a split second, they merely stared at one another in shock. Abruptly, their brains kicked into gear almost simultaneously and they whirled and charged down the corridor to the nearest emergency suit storage. Diving through the door even as it opened, they managed to wedge themselves in momentarily.

  The hysterical urge to giggle rose threateningly in Anya’s throat as they struggled for a moment and finally managed to separate. Her hands were shaking as she grabbed a suit and began to scramble into it. In the corridor outside, despite the earsplitting alarm, she heard the stampede of racing feet. Moments later the rest of the crew, as white faced and shaken as she was, bottle necked in the doorway for several moments before they succeeded in untangling themselves and began to spill into the small room.

  About half of them were well on their way to being drunk—drunk enough they were having problems staying on their feet and figuring out closures. Directly beside her, Melanie giggled drunkenly as she lost her balance and fell into the wall of suits, landing on the floor with one foot in the sleeve of her suit.

  The incident killed Anya’s own hysteria. She stared indecisively at Melanie for a split second and finally knelt to help her get into her suit. In the close confines, it was no easy task, particularly when Melanie was in no state to be much help. Leaving her to figure out the closure for herself once she had her arms and legs in the suit, Anya wove her way down the line and grabbed two air tanks and helmets, securing her own and checking her air gauge before she headed back to help Melanie.

  Captain Laine grabbed her arm when she reached Melanie again. “Make sure everyone’s in their suits and the suits are functioning properly,” he said curtly.

  Anya nodded, but he hadn’t stayed to make sure she understood the order. As soon as he’d issued it he began to shove his way toward the door and disappeared into the corridor. A little more than half the crew managed to get into their suits without help. Most of them dashed out, however, the moment they’d suited up. Anya managed to waylay four and directed them to help the less fortunate crew members, but the moment they’d finished, they eluded her and dashed off.

  Furious to be left to manage almost a half dozen thoroughly intoxicated crew members by herself, Anya made a stab at corralling them in the Rec room and finally gave up when she saw the impossibility of controlling them.

  The alarm was reset. Her ears numb from the sudden cessation of blaring noise, Anya headed for main operations.

  Operations was in chaos when she finally reached it. Realizing almost at once that it was a waste of time to try to ask anyone what was going on, she found a place out of the way and listened and observed.

  “Where the hell did it come from?”

  “How big is it?”

  “About a meter wide, two long, half a meter deep. It’s regular. Too regular to be a meteor.”

  “A probe?”

  “Can’t tell.”

  “From its trajectory I’d say we’ll be up close and personal pretty soon.”

  “Is it going to hit us?” Laine demanded sharply.

  Carol’s face was white as she looked up at him. “I … it looks like it.”

  Anya felt the blood freeze in her veins. The shields were up, but they hadn’t been designed to withstand the impact of anything that big. They hadn’t expected to have to worry about anything but micro meteors—and not really that, if the truth be told.

  “Fuck! Fire the engines and see if we can move this fat, clumsy bitch out of its way!”

  “Engine one firing! Two firing! Three firing!”

  A faint quiver went through the floor.

  Everyone held their breath.

  “Engine four?” Captain Laine demanded, obviously too impatient to wait any longer.

  “Misfire!”

  “Reset, god damn it!”

  “It’s not responding.”

  “Fuck! Did you check that damned engine or not?”

  “It was working fine when we checked it, Sir!”

  Captain Laine stalked across the bridge and shoved the ensign out of the way, checking the instrument panel himself. On his third try he managed to get the engine to fire.

  Anya was only slightly relieved, however. The SP-13 was a space platform, meant to remain in stationary orbit, not fly. Even with every engine firing it seemed unlikely they could move the unwieldy thing out of the way in time to do them any good.

  “What are you doing here?” Captain Laine snapped.

  It took Anya a moment to realize he was snarling at her. “I didn’t know I was forbidden the bridge,” she replied finally.

  “I told you to see about the others,” he growled.

  “And I did. Everyone’s suited up—correctly. I checked them myself.�
��

  She could see his lips tighten despite the glare of the lighting on his face shield.

  “Where are they now?”

  Annoyance threaded through her. “I tried to contain them in the Rec room, but they weren’t cooperative. I’ve got no idea.”

  He glared at her. “You let them wander loose when you know they’re too drunk to be responsible?”

  Anya’s eyes narrowed. “Do I look like a fucking gorilla to you?”

  He looked for several moments as if he was contemplating violence against her. Finally, he turned and glanced around the room. “Ensign Cooper, Airman Vance—go with Dr. Rambo and help her contain the crew members who overindulged.”

  Both men came to their feet at once. “The brig?” Cooper asked.

  “Confine them to their quarters.”

  “The Rec room would be better if we have to abandon the station. They’d all be in one place for evac,” Anya suggested.

  Instead of responding, Laine glanced at the navigator, Cpl. Carol Nix. “How long till impact?”

  Carol blinked several times and began cross checking her data. “It’s moving at sub light speed. The computer estimates two hours.”

  “That’s time enough for them to sober up,” Laine said decisively. “Confine them to their quarters and let them sleep it off.”

  Dismissed, Anya led the way. They met Melanie halfway back to the Rec room.

  “Hey! Where’d everybody go? They move the party or what?”

  As irritated as she was with her friend, she managed a wry smile. “Party’s over, Mel. The captain ordered you to your quarters.”

  Melanie stared at her owl eyed for several moments. “Why?”

  Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, Anya slipped an arm through Melanie’s. “Because you’re drunk, that’s why.”

  “Oh,” Melanie said, docilely allowing Anya to lead her back down the corridor. “I thought that was the objective of the day,” she added in a slightly slurred voice.

  “It was, but we’ve got trouble now.”

  Melanie frowned. “What kinda trouble?”