Beyond the Starport Adventure (Bullet Book 1)

by Richard Fairbairn

  “What’s that there, see? That looks like damage. Like they’ve been in a scuffle. Looks like they‘ve seen some action recently. “

  Apple looked up. “What?”

  “Yes,” King said, “It looks like there’s some kind of damage. But look at this…” he adjusted the screen, zooming in on something hanging under the alien ship’s left side, “Look at that.”

  Apple bared his white teeth. A snarl. This certainly was not a ship like any he had seen before. The design was all sharp edges and anger. Yes, that was it, he thought. The ship looked angry, fierce. It was obviously a vessel that had been made for war. The object that King zoomed in on just emphasised Apple’s dark thoughts.

  “That’s a weapons pod. Those are barrels for large calibre bullet, rockets or… King, are there any signs of the USS Drake? They should have been here hours ago.”

  “Nothing,” King said, “But we’re going to be within range of those cannons in a few seconds.”

  “You think they’ll fire on us?” Barrett said, his voice an excited whisper.

  “I don’t want to find out,” Apple nodded to King., “Get us out of here. Use the reverse thrusters and head us towards… towards the debris field on the portside. What the Hell is that anyway?”

  “I’d guess that we’re looking at the remains of the Drake. And I’d also guess that this ugly bastard is responsible,” the King looked coldly and harshly at the captain, “We’re next, Vinn.”

  Glasgow was already within range of the Justice Six’s remaining bullet gun, but the engineers were having trouble reloading the eight barrelled close range weapon. A bullet had jammed during the attack on the Drake and had exploded, cutting the power line to the barrel rotation system..

  “They are fleeing,” Hazer Jaxx observed, “Running like weak the cowards they are. Fire the forward cannons and destroy them immediately. Their puny presence sickens me.”

  The remains of the Drake were scattered over an area about five miles wide, and spreading. The debris was small fragments - nothing larger than a few metres. Across. King powered the Glasgow into the debris, pushing the engines past their safe maximum as the alien ship charged its particle beam weapons.

  The twin cannons discharged at the same time, but the Glasgow was shielded by the shattered fragments of the USS Drake. The energy beams dissipated harmlessly, completely incinerating fifteen hundred pieces of debris and heating thousands more to red and white hot temperatures. The Glasgow did not come off completely unscathed. Five separate alarms sounded as the external hull suffered damage. The long range navigational sensor overloaded and shut down. A coolant line feeding the portside midsection thruster exploded, breeching the hull and exploding the passengers in the recreation room out into space before any of them had an idea what was going on. They lost consciousness mercifully quickly, screaming out their last breaths as they were ripped through the ragged edged hull breech.

  The recreation room’s decorative panels jammed into the hull breech as the emergency door closed. A fire extinguisher in the adjoining corridor came loose from its fastenings and jammed into the recreation room’s emergency door as it closed. The fire extinguisher was squeezed tight, but it stayed intact. The emergency door stayed open about six inches and the motors strained and failed. The next emergency door was at the end of the corridor, and it was already closing. But the crew’s quarters and the captain’s cabin were connected to the corridor and did not have an airtight door between them and the damaged recreation room door. Air was being sucked out of the corridor at an alarming rate. Vazquez, behind Vinn Apple’s thin plastic door, slept on oblivious of the danger.

  Ten seconds had passed. The Justice Six was recharging its cannons ready for a second shot. King was flying the Glasgow through the debris field at breakneck speed. His console was silently warning him of the recreation room breech and the slow depressurisation of the personnel area but he was too busy flying the ship. Vinn Apple was at his side, but his eyes too were focussed on the big screen. There were thumps and bumps as small chunks of the destroyed USS Drake bumped off the hull. Julian Barrett was wondering, frantically, if there was anything at the front of the ship fragile enough for the debris to smash through. Only the young Jackson noticed the flashing red lights on King’s smallest screen, almost hidden by the stain of a hundred or more slopped coffee mugs. He didn’t know what they were and stared at them blankly, wondering. Mostly he was wondering what it would feel like when the alien ship’s energy weapons fired again and killed them all. Luckily, Captain Vinn Apple noticed the youngster’s gaze and followed it to the little brown sugar encrusted screen.

  “Frank,” Apple said.

  “Vinn, I’m a bit busy right now. They‘re coming after us, and if they hit us again with that ray gun we’ll be shafted. “

  Justice Six’s energy cannons were almost completely charged. The larger Enrilean warship had entered the debris field in pursuit of the Glasgow and was closing the distance rapidly.

  Apple nodded to himself. He licked his lips and snarled, touching King’s status monitor to bring up more information.

  “Shelly,” he whispered, “God, no.”

  He furiously ran across to his own command chair and sat down on it hard. He looked at the environment systems display and touched different options.

  “Frank, we have to get out of here,” he said, almost shouting, “We’ve got a hull breech in the living section. We lost the passengers and Vazquez will die if I don’t get her out.”

  “I’m doing my best, sir,” King Frank said, “But that ship’s right behind us and whatever they hit us with… well, we’re not going to take another hit from that.”

  It was painful, but Apple wrenched his mind from his lover - his best friend.

  “What do we do?” he asked, “We’ve got to have options.”

  King gave him a sideways glance. He didn’t say a word. Apple, with all his heart, needed to be with Vazquez but the living quarters were halfway across the ship. It would take him two minutes to reach it. The environment controls had estimated that Vazquez had one and a half minutes’ worth of air left.

  “All I can do is keep her ass facing that energy weapon and hope that the shielding on the blast drive will deflect or absorb the energy from the alien weapon, but even if it does that’ll be the end of the blast drive and we’ll have nowhere to run to.”

  “I’ve got to… get to her…” Vinn strained, his knuckles white as he clenched his fists.

  “It won’t make a difference,” King said, “Go to her now, before we run out of time. Run, Vinn.”

  “Run!” the Captain slapped King on the shoulder hard, “That’s what we’re doing wrong. Turn Glasgow around, Frank. If they’re going to blast us then they’ll choke on our carcass!” he slapped King again, but this time kept his hand on the pilot’s shoulder. He squeezed it, “Stick it to them, Frank. Stuff our flaming hull down their throats!”

  Apple started to leave the bridge, running at full speed. King was turning the ship around abruptly, putting the engines into full reverse and supplying full power to the port thrusters. The ship lurched heavily and Apple fell against the bulkhead. He smiled a tight smile and pushed onwards towards the living section.

  “I really don’t want to do this,” King hissed. He stared at the looming alien spacecraft and furrowed his brow, “What the Hell is the point in this?”

  2195AD - EWS Justice Six.

  Jack Sloane was crouched behind the steering wheel of the Aston. There were voices all round. He hadn’t dared to look, but guessed that there were at least eight armed men. They were looking around the cargo bay for him. He’d heard a few shots being fired and guessed that some of the bodies were being shot at - killed a second time over in case the first death hadn’t been terrible enough. He had the short barrelled alien carbine in both hands.

  “What are you waiting for?” he whispered.

  The alien solders did not realise what that the Aston Martin was. It’s owner, retired g
raphics designer James Quinn, had forgotten to lock the passenger door. The security men from the Justice Six had no idea that anyone could be inside the Aston. They checked the more obvious places in the cargo hold - behind and between the food storage containers.

  Suddenly, the Aston Martin came alive. A shrill, shrieking alarm sounded. Sloane squeezed the carbine trigger in his surprise and a bullet blasted into the dashboard, missing the steering wheel by a tiny fraction. Sloane was about to leap out of the car, but a faint voice stopped him in his tracks.

  “Who is this?” the voice said, “Is this really my Aston”

  “Hey!” Sloane’s voice was a loud whisper, “Yes, I’m inside an Aston Martin but Christ knows where it is. Some kind of alien spaceship.”

  “You’re not stealing it You can‘t be,” Quinn said. “Where are you?”

  On the bridge of Justice Six, Hazer Jaxx watched the small ship turning to face his destroyer. He wondered, silently, why the ship had not opened fire or tried to fight back. He didn’t realise that Glasgow was an unarmed exploratory ship.

  “Why don’t they fire?” he growled. Then, to his officers, he said, “Where are the forward cannons? Burn their blasphemous hides!”

  The forward cannons were twenty five seconds away from firing.

  “I’m in your car. It’s in the… cargo hold of some kind of alien spacecraft,” Sloane heard the voices coming closer, ominously silent, “They’re not friendly,” he added, whispering loudly.

  Sloane was lying on his left side. A shadow passed him. It stopped for a moment. It was one of the guards looking into the car, but not seeing the bloodstained man hiding there. Sloane heard running footsteps. He thought he heard muffled voices.

  “I was in my room on the Spirit. It must have self-sealed when the cruise ship came apart. They took me aboard their ship and came into the room. Then, without a word, they shot me. They’re looking for me now. More of them. The cargo bay is full of them. Can you help me?”

  There were sounds of footsteps running, Heavy boots. Hard soles. Soldiers trained to hit the ground hard with their feet, just like they were trained to hit everything hard. Sloane thought the footsteps sounded more coordinated than before - but the sounds weren’t getting closer. They were surrounding the Aston Martin.

  “They’re taking up defensive positions,” Sloane said, “Christ, can you help me?”

  Quinn did not reply verbally. He used his remote and, even five million miles distant, the Aston Martin came to life. The dashboard lit up cool blue and a soft female voice welcomed him with a seductive voice.

  “Welcome to excellence,” the voice said, “Your life’s adventure begins today.”

  The dynamic gravity engine hummed to life. The deep and almost hypnotic vibration was almost comforting.

  “She’s all yours now,” Quinn’s voice said quietly, thoughtfully, “Good luck to you.”

  “He survived a bullet to the head,” Garr Neeki said, holding his rifle tightly, “I was there when it happened. Captain Jaxx emptied his quartermaster and I saw the bullet hit his head.”

  Lieutenant Joo raised his hand for silence. The other six men in his team stared at him coldly. They were keen to avenge the death of their comrade.

  “That’s enough of your nonsense,” Joo said directly to Garr, “I am warning you, so stop before you even get started. He got lucky, that’s all. Jaxx’s bullet must have grazed him. He’s got nowhere to go and nothing to fight with. He’s just a man, like us.”

  Garr Neeki was not entirely convinced. Three of Joo’s team shared Garr’s apprehension about the alien, but Garr was the only one who truly believed that the alien had survived being shot in the head. Still, the fear was enough to gather them all together - even Joo - behind the big yellow food storage containers.

  The Aston Martin crashed into the food containers, knocking Joo and Garr into the cargo door. Joo’s ribcage was crushed and, with an agonised and terrified expression he collapsed to his knees. Garr was knocked unconscious and fell to the floor, his rifle still held tight to his chest. The other six soldiers scattered in surprise, some dropping their weapons. Only one of them raised his gun to fire. His gun jammed. Sloane watched the man remove the magazine from his weapon and replace it, almost hypnotised by it. Then he came to his senses as he found himself staring down the barrel of the weapon once more.

  Sloane reversed the Aston. He was close to panic and his driving skills reflected this as Quinn’s beloved car slammed into the containers at the opposite side of the cargo bay. The containers were filled with liquid coolant reserves used to keep the particle cannons from overheating. The coolant was volatile and the metre tall cylinders were strongly designed. But the Aston ruptured one as it slammed it against the cargo bay door. The milky white liquid, thinner than water, spilled out in a high pressure stream. In a moment the cargo bay door was saturated in then liquid.

  The other cylinders rolled away; heavy and slow, bent and cracked. Sloane hit the brakes and the Aston came to a stop almost instantly. Sloane felt the brake, but not as much as he would have without the Aston’s inertial compensator. He heard gunshots. Sparks flew from the Aston’s toughened bonnet. More bullets flew past the beautiful auto car and slammed into the cargo bay door, igniting the coolant there. Suddenly the door was ablaze. Sloane did not notice. He was too busy powering the car forward - steering to the right in an effort to avoid the gunfire.

  The explosion was a surprise to everyone. The burning coolant on the door was burning its way through the metal, but would have burned out before penetration even a fraction of the way through. But the coolant splattered onto the cracked cylinder ignited and the container detonated like a small bomb. Sloane suddenly found himself in space, inside the luxury car. The Enrilean soldiers did too, gasping for breath and choking as their eyeballs boiled in their skulls.

  The Justice Six’s energy cannons fired a split second after the explosion. Two degrees off target, the charged particles missed their intended target and streaked off harmlessly and invisibly into space.

  2195AD - SS Glasgow.

  “Son of a bitch!” King Frank laughed, “They missed.”

  Vinn Apple did not hear him. He’d met Jackson as he’d entered the living quarters. Jackson was on his knees and Vazquez was crumpled on the floor beside him. Jackson, gasping for breath in the thin atmosphere, smiled when he saw his captain appear.

  “Good kid,” Apple smiled, “We’re almost there. Give me a hand.”

  Jackson, wheezing, could barely move his own body, such was the lack of oxygen. Vinn still had a good amount left in his blood and was much stronger. Jackson still managed to help, albeit very slightly. They reached the emergency door that had slammed shut behind them both and Vinn keyed in his override code. The door slid open. Shrill alarms sounded as she ship cried out in protest. Vinn dragged Vazquez through the opening and grabbed Jackson’s shirt with his left hand. Jackson was limp and cold. His eyes looked lazily through Apple, his face lazily smiling insanely into thin air. Vinn hit the emergency button and closed the door again. The air in the corridor had been depleted and there was no way to quickly restore it. Vinn dragged Vazquez another three metres into the corridor and then he too felt the effects of the lack of oxygen. His muscles became incredibly fatigued - so much so that it startled him and make him groan loudly. He tried to move Vazquez but his arms didn’t have the strength they’d had a few seconds earlier. Jackson’s face had a blue grey hue and his eyes were staring. Apple crawled across the floor to the intercom. As he scrambled for it, the SS Glasgow passed over the top of the larger Enrilean warship and narrowly avoided smashing into the Aston Martin and Jack Sloane.

  The Aston was still spinning out of control, but the stabilisers were starting to exert an influence. As the car span round, Sloane caught three fleeting glimpses of the approaching Glasgow. He recognised the ship as an Alcatraz class medium sized transporter. It streaked past him and tore through the scattered debris from the Justice Six’s cargo bay. S
loane turned the Aston Martin to follow the fleeing transporter, wondering just how sporty the DBS really was.

  Hazer Jaxx was demanding more of his ship than was possible. He wanted the main cannons to recharge faster than they possibly could. He wanted the ship to turn to engage the SS Glasgow, but the Justice Six’s flight computers were struggling to cope with the decompression of the cargo bay. He wanted the ship to fight, but Justice Six was damaged more badly than he realised. To add to the chaos, the engineering crew struggling to resolve the jammed bullet guns restarted the portside cannon too soon. The jammed bullet exploded, detonating about twenty more bullets in the near vicinity. The portside bullet gun was completely destroyed and shrapnel from the three rapid explosions peppered the main cannons and sensor array, disabling the Justice Six’s weapons and effectively blinding the ship altogether.

  The SS Glasgow was a light transport vessel designed for interstellar travel. James Quinn’s Aston Martin DBS was a luxury sports car. The Aston Martin DBS could match the Glasgow’s top speed in normal space, but not for any great distance. By the time Sloane had turned the car around the SS Glasgow was out of sight. Through the windscreen Sloane could see the massive scarred orange ball that was the third alien planet, Crantarr. Beyond it lay the Enrilean home world, but Sloane did not notice the slim blue sliver of the planet peeking out from behind the orange in his efforts to find the fleeing SS Glasgow.

  He swore under his breath. He accelerated the Aston past sixty thousand miles per hour, but the transporter was nowhere to be seen. He wasn’t even sure if he was even going the right way. Behind him, the damaged Justice Six turned slowly in a doomed effort to pursue his car and the Glasgow. A twenty thousand ahead of him, the SS Glasgow was heading towards the Enrilean home world and accelerating still. As it approached the alien world, the Enrileans were already scrambling one man fighters from the planet surface to assist the damaged Justice Six.