Beyond the Starport Adventure (Bullet Book 1)

by Richard Fairbairn

  The first building was a complete shambles. It had once been much taller, but had collapsed hundreds if not thousands of years before. The elements had reduced it to a windowless, featureless shell. There were skeletons buried amongst the rubble. Humanoid skeletons like the few he’d found on the road into the city, but hundreds of them.

  There were gold coloured weeds growing up the side of the ruins and more of the shiny leather pumpkins quivering amongst them. Green grass grew in clumps amongst the rubble and skeletons. Sloane could see wild flowers that reminded him of dandelions. Bright yellow flowers, but larger than they should have been. More cacti that he couldn’t recognise. Some purple flowered creeping vines climbed the walls of the old building, but they were almost completely covered by the yellowy weeds. He kept walking, though it was difficult to take his eyes away from the building.

  The edge of the city was much more eroded than it had seemed from a distance. Many of the peripheral buildings had worn away completely and Sloane, once more, found himself in the blazing sun. There seemed to be more sand beneath his feet. The sand was much lighter than sand he’d seen before. When he looked down at it he could see it sparkling, almost as though there were tiny diamonds there.

  The road was blocked by debris. Vehicles, once, or some large metal structure that had become swamped by plant life. He edged past it carefully, watching out for the lashing pumpkins, and headed for the shade of the next building about a hundred metres away.

  The next building was a hollowed out husk; a carcass of bright marble stone that had collapsed on top of itself. Sloane clambered on top of the debris to study the building further. He could see that a thick, long rooted tree was growing in one corner of the ageing walls. The tree didn’t look as alien as the rest of the plant life he’s seen and looked more like something from Earth. The thick roots provided firm handholds for him to climb easily to the top of the ruin and the further he climbed the more he realised that the tree was holding the structure together.

  The view from the top of the building didn’t reveal much more than Sloane expected. A dead city. Dusty, ancient, dry and dead. It had been this way for thousands of years. But Sloane was more interested in water, and plant life meant water. In the distance, deeper into the heart of the desert city, there was more green. More trees like the one he was sitting alongside.

  Jack Sloane walked for another hour. His eyes were dirty and sore. He had to stop for ten minutes to clear the dirt from them and he had a brief moment of panic when he imagined that there wasn’t enough moisture left in his eyes to clear the dirt out. But he kept calm and persevered and soon he was on his way again.

  He reached the oasis in the middle of the city ruins. He sensed the water before he heard it. Strangely, the rainbow still seemed far ahead and deeper into the city. He didn’t care. He’d found water.

  The three stinging pumpkins were easy to spot, but one of them still managed to lash out at him. The long black tongue whipped towards his face but missed as he pulled away from it just in time. He pushed through gold coloured clinging vines and then, surprisingly, he was looking at a large body of water.

  “This is…” he licked his lips. He shook his head. The rainbow seemed brighter, more colourful. He stared at it, laughing for an insane fleeting moment. The rainbow looked artificial. “Mental,” He finished

  The lake was about a quarter mile long and two hundred metres wide. There were some familiar looking trees growing along the edge along with masses of the gold vine and other multi-coloured plants. Sloane walked carefully into the water, not bothering to remove his shoes and tossing his coat behind himself onto the orange grey banking. He moved cautiously, worried that strange alien creature might leap out of the water at any moment. But as the water reached his knees he realised that there wasn’t any animal or aquatic life in the small lake.

  He tested the water with the tip of his tongue and was pleasantly surprised to find that it did not taste salty as he’d somehow expected. He dipped his head into the water, pushing his fingers through his hair and opening his eyes under the lake.

  The water was clear and cool. He tentatively touched his forehead - the first real time he’d taken to examine his wound – and felt the gouge stinging to his touch. He winced and rubbed the dirt and debris from the inch long wound. It started to bleed again, but he kept splashing water on his face to keep the blood out of his eyes. The bleeding wasn’t too bad, he guessed.

  “I’d warn you not to drink the water,” The tall woman said, “But I’m too late.”

  She was standing with ahead of him. The sun was behind her and her golden hair shone in its brilliance. She smiled at Jack Sloane. He was about to speak, but she spoke again and silenced the words before they could leave his throat. He recognised the voice immediately.

  “Do you like my rainbow?” she said, “Isn’t it just absolutely amazing?”

  She skipped down the rocks towards him lightly. Her mouth smiled, but her eyes were cold. She was wearing the same green dress he remembered from Earth.

  “You…”

  She smiled. Close enough to touch him now. Waist deep in the water and her dress floating around her hips. She reached out to touch his face. He pulled back instinctively, but somehow relaxed enough to allow her long fingers to find the wound on his forehead. She touched it lightly as he stared into her deep green eyes. He felt a pang of something like hope, but it was crushed under the weight of his astonishment. He didn’t even wince as she probed the bullet wound on his forehead. Somehow, it just seemed natural that she would want to touch him there. Her expression was one of an inquisitive child’s. He could feel her fingernails now, painful, as she poked one into the gouge above his eyebrow.

  “Ouch!”

  He reached up and put his hand around her wrist. He pulled her hand away from his face. She seemed to resist at first, but then she relaxed.

  “That hurts!” he said.

  She smiled. The water made her dress cling to her attractive, athletic frame. He resisted the urge to look down, even though he could tell she was not wearing a bra. Instead, he licked his lips and spoke once again.

  “That hurts, you know.”

  “I know,” She smiled with her eyes. There was a fire there, he noted. A passion. Something a little bit naughty. “Doesn’t it feel wonderful?”

  2195AD - SS Glasgow.

  The SS Glasgow was powering towards the nearest Wormhole. It was an unmapped entry point. Bashir had pointed out that this meant the wormhole might lead anywhere in the galaxy’s current quadrant. The safeties were off and the old Alcatraz class transport ship was approaching eight tenths the speed of light. Apple wasn’t concerned about where the wormhole might lead to – he just wanted it to lead away from the approaching fighters.

  “Even at emergency speed – we’re still forty minutes from the nearest wormhole. Those fighters are going to overtake us and…”

  “Blow us to shit,” Vazquez slapped her console.

  “Maybe,” Vinn Apple grunted. He squeezed her right knee. They made eye contact and she nodded her head gently. He looked away. Julian Barrett was looking in his direction. He held the nervous man’s gaze. Barrett looked like he might start crying at any moment. Apple smiled awkwardly and tried to think of something useful to say to the man. “Maybe not,” He conceded, “Maybe they just want to check us out…”

  “No,” Barrett was shaking his head, “I’m not, I mean… I think there’s something we can do. Can… can I ask you to change the main screen display?”

  “Professor, in case you didn’t notice we’re a little bit busy now,” Vazquez spoke harshly and she shrugged at Apple’s chiding expression, “What? I have to be Miss Polite and Perfect in the last few minutes of my life?”

  Apple elbowed her almost playfully above her elbow. She elbowed him back harder and laughed. Then Jackson was speaking and standing beside the nervous looking scientist.

  “We should listen to the professor,” The youngster said, “I think he
’s onto something.”

  “Okay,” Apple said, scratching his chin, “You’ve got the main screen. George, can you manage without it?”

  “Sure. I’m just watching the show right now anyway – the engines are doing all the work and we’re on a straight line all the way. Kind of keen to see what the prof has on his mind. What do you want me to put up there, doc?”

  Barrett was embarrassed. His cheeks were blushing red. He was about to remind everyone that he wasn’t a professor but thought better of it. Instead he said something to the navigator about it being easier for him to show than it was for him to tell. The words came out jumbled and stuttering, but somehow King George seemed to read his mind.

  “Sure. You’ve got the console, dude.”

  Julian slid into the worn plastic seat almost before Frank could get out of it. Brooks pushed his silver flecked dusty brown hair out of his eyes and touched the young man’s shoulder gingerly. Barrett was already working feverishly. He typed furiously into the coffee and muck stained keys – hammering hard at the letters which had stuck for months.

  “I… “ Vazquez leaned forward too now, “What the Hell is this? Let a guest pilot the ship.”

  “I’m not driving the ship. I’m showing you something about our pursuers. I’m quite surprised, in all honesty, that you didn’t notice it before – especially you,” Barrett looked Frank Brooks right in the eyes with a sudden and almost insane confidence that belied his sweating ferret face, “I mean… look at this…”

  They looked at the screen. Jackson once more managed to find himself just a little too close to Vazquez. His face stared bewildered at the console. Only Frank Brooks and the captain realised what was happening on the screen before them.

  “It’s a replay of the navigational sensor record. This is the SS Glasgow – the red dot – right in the middle. The alien craft are here and here. But the interesting thing is this wide arc that this cluster of ships makes when it changes course to intercept us. They can’t change direction the way that we can. Whatever propulsion system they are using – it isn’t anything like our Altered Momentum drive system.”

  The SS Glasgow’s secondary navigation display did not work. It was a blank and cheese stained screen that served as a vanity mirror for Frank when he thought nobody was paying attention. Next to it the primary, slightly larger, display had everyone’s focus. Frank licked his lips and patted the amateur scientist on the shoulder, leaving his hand there. He made lingering eye contact with Julian and nodded respectfully.

  “I want some ideas,” The captain growled, “How can we use this? Correct me if I’m wrong, but aren’t we heading in a straight line towards the wormhole?”

  “Yeah, that’s right,” Vazquez drawled, “We’ll need to draw them in closer. Get a little more personal with them,” She turned sharply and made the young Jackson jump back an inch, “You like that idea, Jonas?” she smiled cutely.

  “I… I guess,” He muttered.

  Apple grinned and his eyes sparkled.

  “Stations everyone. Professor, stay with Frank. You guys can work on this together.”

  “Umm, work on what?” Barrett said, genuinely confused.

  “Staying out of the line of fire – by getting into the line of fire,” Apple grinned.

  “Risky, Vinn,” Michelle Vazquez said, pushing away from the console and throwing her arm round Vinn’s shoulder, “We got no way of knowing what kind of weapons they got – the range, type or anything.”

  “That’s a chance we’re going to take. Now reduce our speed to eighty percent and run a long diagnostic on the inertial compensator and emergency systems. I don’t want to end up splattered all over the walls.”

  Julian turned to Apple, frowning.

  “Actually, if the compensator malfunctioned we’d feel the effects immediately – at least for a very short time. That’s why they have redundant safety systems. So I’m sure we’re safe enough.”

  Vazquez was the one who laughed. She slapped Barrett on the shoulder.

  “You’re absolutely right, professor. Or at least you would be if our compensator hadn’t been hotwired a dozen or so times.”

  “Alright,” Apple grunted, irritated, “It hasn’t let us down yet. But we haven’t pushed it like we’re going to.”

  The SS Glasgow surged towards the invisible wormhole entry point. The Enrilean fighters were close behind, twelve javelin shaped single seat fighters with a powerful missile on either side and huge plumes of fire trailing behind them as their powerful fusion engines strained to catch the slower passenger craft. Glasgow was minutes away from the wormhole entry point when the lead fighters released their missiles.

  “Incoming missiles,” Frank reported immediately, “They’re moving real fast,” He shook his head, “Shit, they accelerated quick enough that they might have AM engines. If they do then we’re completely screwed.”

  The missiles streaked towards the fleeing SS Glasgow, thin white streaks of light in the vast ocean of darkness. Each missile left a thin trail of consumed propulsion elements as it accelerated towards the earth ship. Brooks was right. The Enrilean missile systems were augmented with a form of propulsion similar to that used on the Glasgow, but the missiles’ main propulsion system was a fusion system like all of the ships in the Enrilean fleet.

  “We’re going to have to try to dodge them – obviously,” Vazquez said, “But that’s going to give away our party trick, isn’t it?”

  “If they haven’t already figured it out,” Jackson said, “Maybe I’m wrong, but aren’t those dots the alien ships?” he stabbed his finger repeatedly at a group of four fighters that had broken off from the main group.

  “Yes,” Frank hissed, “Maybe they’re getting ready to catch us if we jink to a new position.”

  “Okay, well space is pretty big so I’m sure we’ll manage to stay clear of them,” Vazquez said.

  “Don’t be so sassy, Shelly,” Apple almost shouted, “Prof’s got a point. If we’re going to outmanoeuvre the missiles we’re going to have to make a radical course change at high speed. I’m not sure how the engine will stand up to that.”

  “The missiles are getting closer,” Jonas reported, “And it looks like the first few ships are putting their foot to the floor too – look at them go.”

  Jonas’ observations were correct. The lead Enrilean fighters had increased their engines to emergency power, such was their haste to catch the fleeing SS Glasgow. The gap of a handful of minutes had become narrower.

  “The missiles are bunched together, so we should be lucky enough to avoid them all if we make a last minute course change. But that’ll leave us two minutes short of the wormhole even at our highest speed – assuming we don’t overload the AM drive avoiding the missiles.”

  “Let’s assume,” Apple said. Frank only nodded. The young scientist was staring at the navigation screen again. His crooked index finger jabbed once more at the little dots that were rapidly encroaching on the Glasgow’s larger blob of light.

  “These fighters might reach us before we can make it into the wormhole,” Frank looked at Julian, who nodded his agreement quietly, “What else can we do? There’s nowhere left to run to.”

  “Well it doesn’t mean we give up,” Vazquez said, “So let’s come up with some ideas before they get on top of us.”

  Michelle Vazquez had just finished her sentence when the three Enrilean Javelin fighters got within railgun range. An instant later the first blast from each of the three ships impacted the rear section of the SS Glasgow.

  The ship vibrated only slightly, but everyone on the bridge felt it.

  “Something hit us,” Frank said, “Not a missile. An energy weapon, maybe.”

  “Who knows what the hell kind of weapon these sons of bitches will have,” Michelle hissed, “Is there any damage?”

  Brooks looked at his screen. He raced across to another panel where Jonas occasionally sat.

  “I can’t tell,” Frank admitted, finally, “But I’m sure
something hit us.”

  The ship was slowing down. One of the railgun sabots had destroyed one of the Glasgow’s four engine nozzles and thrust chambers. The engine had shut down automatically.

  Frank had just noticed the engine problem when the Enrilean fighters fired a second time. Two dense metal projectiles streaked towards space towards the earth ship. The third railgun did not fire as it should have and, instead, the sabot tore into and through the lower electromagnetic rail. The super strength material exploded with so much energy that the front third of the Dart fighter’s nose was torn away. The rail shattered in fragments, but one half metre fragment rocketed backwards through the small craft. It severed squadron leader Liann Pann’s legs just above the knees and then tore the cockpit off as it continued its lightning fast route through the ship The Enrilean pilot was killed before he even realised that something was wrong. The remains of his spacecraft were scattered like a firework in the darkness of space.

  A large hole appeared in Jonas Jackson’s midsection. A surprised, confused expression surfaced on his face as his body began to sway to the right. Nobody noticed the hole until Jackson was falling over and backwards towards the floor. Frank moved to catch him instinctively, but he was too late. Jonas stared at him, his mouth open and moving like he was speaking – but no sounds were coming out. Julian Barrett turned away as if he’s been slapped. His face was buried in his long flat hands and he was making a sound that was something between a gasp of shock and a choked grunt of pained horror.

  “Jackson!” Vinn Apple shouted.

  Apple rushed forward, but Vazquez was closer and she knelt beside the younger man. Jonas’s eyes were staring upwards towards the bright fluorescent light strips above Brooks’ station. For a moment Apple thought that Jonas was already dead, but then the young man’s eyes slowly swivelled in his direction and Jonas’ lips moved again. Apple started to speak but the words died in his throat. He picked up Jonas’ right hand, which was quivering, and gripped it tight.