Beyond the Starport Adventure (Bullet Book 1)

by Richard Fairbairn

  “My biography, believe it or not,” He laughed, “I never read it before.”

  “You were reading your own biography?” she laughed, “That doesn’t count as reading an actual book, Charlie. That’s more akin to masturbation!”

  He crushed her mouth with his own. She knew that he was trying to silence her, but she didn’t care. She wrapped her long legs around his cold buttocks and impaled herself on him. She released a long, loud sigh as his hardness filled her.

  He was thirty years old. They’d had sex two hours ago, but he was more than ready to go again. But just as he was starting to get into a good rhythm, the phone rang. The red phone. The phone that had to be answered. Bonneville knew it too. If he didn’t pick up, the door would fly open and they’d make him answer. She kissed his chin as he pulled away.

  “Goddamn fucking cock blocking fuck phone,” He muttered.

  He picked up the red receiver.

  “This is the President.”

  Rip Tranmore was on the other end of the line.

  “They’re looking for you. They’re looking for her.”

  “We’ll be right there.”

  He skinned into his tight black jeans and white shirt. He’d thrown the tie away theatrically. It had amused his partner and had been the prelude to an hour of hard, fast love making. But he couldn’t find the patterned silk strip now and gave up as Bonneville bounced by him. She was already into her knee length skirt and grey blouse. Her hair was a fantastic mess, but he knew from experience that she could sort that pretty fast. He splashed coke onto his hands before running his fingers through his hair. She saw him and shook her head. She seemed to have magical, magnetic fingers that could manipulate and shape her hair with the slightest touch. Within a few seconds she looked… passable. Rigg looked like someone who’d gotten Coca Cola in his hair.

  “Let me fix you,” She said.

  He didn’t argue.

  It didn’t take Lindsey Bonneville long to make him presentable. The phone rang again as they left the room, bumping into the They made their way together to the incident room. Kildare was there waiting. He was the only one still in the building. The camera crew wasn’t properly assembled. The sound guy was missing and the producer or director wasn’t there. Just one camera man and someone . It was three o’clock in the morning, Rigg reminded himself.

  “Where is everyone?” Bonneville said.

  “It would seem that the threat of global annihilation does not affect the same viewing figures as, let’s say, President Rigg groping your tight arse on the fly.”

  His expression didn’t change as he said the words. There wasn’t even a glimpse or flash of emotion in the back of his eyes. He just stared into the space between the President and the Secretary for Defence. President Rigg just frowned slightly and turned back to his old friend. He showed Tranmore the soft, white palms of his hands and made a pleading gesture.

  “That’s it? Nobody shows up because the camera crew isn’t here. The main camera crew, guys,” he nodded acknowledgement to the two men he’d never seen before - or at least didn’t remember seeing before, “So nobody in Free America gives a fuck about Haven anymore? I can see that. I can’t say I give much of a fucking...”

  “It’s not that,” Kildare was shaking his head, stifling anger, “This isn’t public knowledge. Nobody knows that we’ve attempted to contact the colony. If you read the notes you would know that, sir.”

  There was enough taint in Kildare’s tone to ignite Tranmore’s anger. But it didn’t take much to set that off and Kildare seemed to have a direct connection to Rip’s fuse box.

  “Damn it, where’s the respect? Your addressing the President of Free America, you Frankenstein faced fucker.”

  “Perhaps I’ve not quite acclimated to pandering to the President of popularity. Unfortunately it seems I am one of the few left in this country who still believe that it takes more than a pretty face and a predilection for anarchic, sexually depraved antics...”

  “Goddamn it, Kildare!” Rigg was between the two men, “I don’t care what you think about me, But, like it or not, I am the leader of the free world. A little respect would be nice, but if you can’t manage that just a little bit of courtesy.”

  Kildare didn’t answer. His intense distaste towards Rigg was normally painfully internalised. Tranmore had brought it to the surface numerous times since they’d met, three years after he’d been voted in as President. Rigg seemed to expect and accept Kildare’s attitude towards him. And it wasn’t even a small part of President Rigg that sympathised and even empathised with the Admiral. Kildare had served two Presidents before Rigg. He’d known that working with the new “people’s President” would be different. It had turned out that Admiral Kildare had found the camera loving clown all but unbearable.

  “We really don’t have the time for this,” Bonneville said, “We need to know what Haven’s military status is; how many ships they’re willing to contribute. Admiral Kildare, what do you have for us?”

  Kildare was stoic. He almost shrugged.

  “I’m afraid I don’t have any news from Haven, Mrs Bonneville. Jupiter station have not received a response to our message. The colonists are, in fact, three hours overdue in replying to our initial transmission.”

  “What does that mean?” Rigg was looking around for something to eat, “They didn’t get the message?”

  “It means they didn’t reply to the message. We received an automated response from the Haven operational centre, so we know they got our transmission. But we’re still waiting for an official reply from the authorities.”

  “Then am I losing my mind or something? You woke us up to tell us you’ve got nothing?”

  “No, Mr President, I woke you up to tell you that the colonists aren’t returning our calls.”

  “What?” Bonneville said, “They haven’t sent an official response at all?”

  “It’s almost as if they aren’t there, Lindsey,” Kildare smiled a thin, dead smile, “Except for the inscrutable fact that we know they are.”

  Rigg had found some coffee biscuits that had been sitting since the previous evening. He crunched down on one hungrily.

  “Well, I can’t say that I’m too surprised,” Rigg laughed, “They’ve done their best to disown the lot of us.”

  “Well, it looks as if they really have disowned us,” Bonneville said, “And that means we lose their support - their ships.”

  Kildare sighed loudly. He took a seat at the end of the long table, burying his head in the palms of his hands. He looked up and was about to speak when the intercom on the table bleeped. He waved at the sensor to activate it.

  “Admiral Kildare, we’ve just got word from the USS Shenandoah. Captain Krugger reports that they’re unable to enter the Yellow Brick wormhole.”

  The shrill, excited voice belonged to Carol Mandlebaum. Distractingly attractive, square-faced blonde bombshell Mandlebaum was a damned good commander in the field. Right now she was on board the USS Brilliant, five hundred kilometres from the large modular construction that was the Jupiter space station. Brilliant had sent the first transmission via the Jupiter station’s powerful BURST system. It had travelled through four wormholes before arriving at the Yellow Brick wormhole - a conduit that bypassed the forty eight thousand light year journey between the wormhole’s entry point and the Haven star system could be made in less than a few hours. Positioned at the edge of the wormhole, the USS Shenandoah confirmed that the final relay had performed its job correctly. The message had made its way through the wormhole It had reached the colony. But the colonists weren’t answering.

  “I think we know their answer,” Kildare said eventually, “We’re on our own.”

  TWENTY TWO

  2195AD - Jann Linn’s Ship.

  Quinn had decided to rest his eyes. He’d said that five minutes ago. Now he was leaning backwards in the seat on Matt Silverman’s left, snoring softly. He looked like a tired, old man. Silverman turned to the robot for comp
anionship. Cass Linn was still plugged into the control console. She hadn’t moved or spoken in over ten minutes. Matt had spent that time examining the inside of the ship. He’d discovered smaller chambers that had not been immediately obvious before. One door led to what was obviously a bathroom. Matt used it gratefully, washing his hands in what he would later discover to be recycled urine. He explored the other two doors that he found. One would not open, though it clearly concealed another small chamber. The third door led to a store room. Matt was pleased to discover more food containers and water bottles. There were implements and tools in the storage room. Plastic bowls, plates and metal mugs covered in pale blue paint. Knives, forks and spoons made out of a rubbery kind of wood. There were other implements. Some Matt recognised and others he could not think of a use for. It reassured him a little that the ship seemed to have enough resources to prevent thirst, hunger or bodily functions becoming an issue. The ship had warmed up and the air seemed clean It was certainly breathable. There was a terrible smell of excrement in the air. Matt had wrongly attributed this to the dead alien scientist, Jann Linn. But during his explorations of the ship he’d realised that the smell was coming from the bathroom. When the ship had taken off, the waste storage tank had cracked open. Its contents were spilling 21`

  “Are you still trying to repair the ship?”

  “I am trying to establish a connection with my sister,” Cass replied, “She can control the ship, including the automatic repair functions.”

  “Your name is Cass Linn?”

  “That’s the name my father gave me,” Cass replied immediately.

  “You shouldn’t answer so quickly,” Matt said, “I guess, in your mind, everything happens very quickly”

  “Instantly,” she said.

  “Yes, that’s what I mean. Just because your brain is working really fast doesn’t mean you have to answer so... abruptly.”

  “I don’t understand the word... abruptly,” Cass said. But she waited a few seconds before speaking.

  “Quickly,” Silverman said, though he wasn’t really sure, “It means, like, really quickly. But that was better. It was like you were... thinking.”

  “I was thinking,” the robot said without pause, “I’m always thinking. All of the time. Always.”

  “I don’t doubt that,” Matt nibbled a corner of one of the brown chew bars. It tasted like salted fudge. “It’s incredible, actually, to think about what it must be like for you.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, you’re like a living machine.”

  “I think I’m alive,” Cass said loudly, “My name is Cass Linn.”

  “That’s what I mean,” Matt said, “You think about things. Our machines don’t do that. There are some that pretend to, sure, but most of them are just… well, they’re just machines. They do things for us. They made tea, walk dogs, cut the grass. Some even help out in hospitals, schools and in the armed forces.”

  There was a long pause. Cass Linn was waiting patiently to ask the question on her mind.

  “What is armed forces?”

  “The military. People with guns who protect us, I guess,” He shrugged, “People who fight wars. They help out if there’s a disaster. Right now, the armed forces of my people will be looking for us.”

  “I’ll get to meet some of your living machines?” Cass asked.

  “I don’t know. But there aren’t any like you. They do what they’re told. Stand here, run over there. Lift that, shoot that. They don’t… consider things. They aren’t alive.”

  “Then you think I’m alive?”

  Quinn snored loudly, suddenly. It was a reassuring sound, reminding Matt of his father quite suddenly and unexpectedly. He reached out to Cass Linn and touched the robot’s burned metal face.

  “I think you must be, yes,” He said, “You think, therefore you are?”

  Another long pause. Then Cass Linn said that she did not understand.

  “I don’t know who coined the phrase,” Matt explained, “But where I come from there’s a saying. I think, therefore I am. What it means is that if you’re thinking, then you must exist.”

  “I know that I exist,” Cass said immediately, “My confusion is over whether or not I am alive.”

  “I think you are,” Matt said.

  She waited a full five seconds before speaking again. Somehow, she hoped that he would touch her face again. It had felt strangely satisfying to feel his soft skin against her damaged sensors. But Matt was looking at Quinn again, wondering if the old man’s face was turning blue or whether it was just his imagination.

  “I feel alive,” Cass finished.

  “Good,” Matt said, “Then that must mean that you are.”

  She did not think to pause. It happened all by itself. Four seconds passed.

  “I like that,” She said quietly.

  There was a long silence. Quinn was snoring. Matt put the back of his hand against Quinn’s cheek. The old man felt cold. But it was warm inside the spacecraft now. Quinn’s breath seemed to be shallow. From time to time he’d make a low moan or grunting sound. His lips twitched from time to time. Silverman stared for a long time, thinking.

  “What is it like, when you think,” Cass said.

  “What do you mean?” he turned back towards the robot. She was still standing there, like some mad ornamental lamp. She had not moved in over twenty minutes. “It doesn’t feel like anything, if that’s what you mean. There’s no… sensation. Is that the right word?”

  “I don’t know,” She said, “I want to know what it is like inside your thoughts. I’m also not sure what I mean. When I have a thought, it is like a light inside me. It just comes to me, as if from nowhere. Sometimes it is almost like a surprise.”

  “Cass, we have to do something about your father,” Matt said, “The old man is dead. We have to do something with the body.”

  Cass Linn did not speak for a full ten seconds. Thinking about her father had become very difficult, somehow. It caused a sensation that she could only think of as painful. In fact, having seen her father in pain before she thought that her own feelings were a close approximation to his own reaction.

  “I feel pain,” She said, “That makes me alive. What about your companion? Is he dead now too?”

  “No,” Silverman said, “He’s resting. I don’t think he is very well. I think he is ill. We need to get him back to Earth – to a hospital.”

  “What is Earth?”

  “It’s the planet we come from. Our home. A world far away from here,” Matt said.

  “I don’t know where that is.”

  “Neither do I. Jim might know how to get there. I should have asked him before he went to sleep. I think they’re something wrong with him. With his mind.”

  “My father is not asleep.”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  Cass Linn moved suddenly. The arm that had been useless moved with a swift motion, plucking the plug that had connected her to the console. Matt realized that the arm had repaired itself, somehow. The robot lurched towards him, only slightly more steady on its feet.

  “There is too much damage to Oss Linn’s control connections,” Cass said, uncomfortably close to Matt now, “The automatic repair system can’t cope with problems of this size. I am going to have to repair the damage manually. The ship will not be able to move until I can repair the damage.”

  “What about communications?” Matt asked, “Is there any way I can contact my people – tell them where I am and what’s happened to the cruise ship?”

  “Not without Oss Linn,” The robot replied, “The life support systems came on automatically when I restarted the emergency battery. The view screen seems to have come on by itself, somehow. I don’t know how that happened. I don’t think it was anything I did – or my sister.”

  Silverman glanced at the view screen again. He had forgotten that it was switched on. There was nothing to see now but endless darkness. Or so it seemed. There was a faint, orange glow at the bottom
right of the screen. In moments the glow dissolved leaving only the void of blackness. Then a star appeared in the top right of the screen. Faint and distant. Just a tiny prick of light. Then, as Silverman watched, another appeared. The stars moved lazily across the screen.

  “We’re drifting in space,” He said.

  “Yes, the ship is drifting,” Cass Linn replied, “Without Oss to control the ship it will just drift in space.”

  “Where are we?” Matt asked, “Did you say Orion’s belt?”

  “I did not,” Cass moved a little closer, “I like the colour of your hair.”

  “Umm, thanks,” He said, “But that’s where we are? You called it the arrow?”

  “The Enrileans call this grouping of stars the arrow,” Cass Linn said, “It is forbidden to use the ancient names – even though my father preferred them. The Relathon people named the stars Meyg, Slonne, Carkann, Risharr and Marttow. The brightest star is Carkann. It’s the nearest of the eight stars. The Enrileans call it the Apex star. They believe that their Gods live here. My father says their beliefs are wrong. We can find out, once Oss gets us moving. Once I can speak to Oss.”

  “We can find out what?”

  “If the Gods actually do exist.”

  Matt Silverman looked at Jim Quinn. Quinn hadn’t moved. His breathing seemed more shallow. He didn’t know what that meant. Was Quinn about to wake up, or not? Was he dying? Silverman reached out to touch Quinn’s cheek. It felt cold to the touch and a little clammy. He hadn’t made a real effort to wake Quinn. Perhaps he was afraid that Quinn wouldn’t wake up. Maybe he just didn’t want to disturb the old man. Finally, Matt decided to wake Quinn. He patted three fingers against Quinn’s cheek lightly, but the old man didn’t stir. He tapped harder, pressing into the thin, greying flesh.

  “Mr Quinn has died too, I think,” Cass Linn said.

  “Quinn’s breathing. The old man who created you is certainly dead,” Matt shook his head, annoyed, “Come on Jim! Wake up!”

  “Just a minute Peter,” Quinn mumbled, “Pete, just a few more minutes.”

  “There’s definitely something wrong with my friend,” Matt said, “He needs a doctor - or medicine. There will be rescue teams looking for us. We need to get back to where we were before.”