Multiverse 1

by Chris Hechtl

  “A real rich eccentric type?”

  “Apparently,” Laura said. “I wish now I'd paid more attention to what he was saying.”

  “Well, we might run into him here,” Roy said. She looked at him with a questionable face. He snorted and spread his hands. “Hey, we're on an alien world, transported by flying, glowing jellyfish, hiding and hunting dinosaurs and other supposedly extinct species…I think the 'stranger things can happen' has already happened, don't you?”

  She chuckled softly, as she rested her head against his shoulder. “Yeah,” she said after a moment. “You're a smart yank.”

  “For a sheila, that's a right nice complement,” he teased in a mock Australian voice, kissing her hair.

  “Oh yeah?” She growled in a mock growl. He had to fend off her suddenly vicious tickling fingers as they both laughed.

  ~~~~~O~~~~~

  Six weeks after they moved to the fortress a sudden radio report sent everyone into excited chatter. Hammy the radio operator on duty came barreling into the central chamber reporting that they were receiving an unknown transmission on guard, the emergency broadcast channel.

  The pilot hobbled in on crutches and took the mike. “This is flight 447, charlie, we're down but not out,” he reported. “We've got 232 survivors here,” he said. People were cheering and hugging each other.

  “Good to hear 447,” a voice replied. “This is Navy Poseidon 430. We're well past our bingo fuel and really could use a safe place to land. We've got nine on board,” the pilot reported.

  The incoming craft was a Navy Poseidon, tasked with finding their wreckage. “We tried to get back through the wormhole or whatever the hell it is but we can't. It's a one-way trip apparently,” the pilot said, sounding bitter.

  “Four three zero can you home in on our transmission? We're roughly three miles inland, near a river and in a cave behind a waterfall,” Zack said, looking at the others. “Um, I'm not sure of a proper heading for you; I personally haven't seen a map,” he said.

  “That's all right, we're an AWACS. We can home in on your transmission. Is there a safe strip of land around? Or should we bail out?” the Poseidon pilot asked.

  “Negative,” Zack said emphatically, “That's a negative on bailing out. The ground is crawling with hostile animals. Your safest bet is to land in the valley nearby. It's reasonably flat near the center, but you'll have to get out quick,” he warned. “Arm yourselves well,” he urged.

  They exchanged data; Zack filled them in on the animals. From the sound of it, the Poseidon pilot wasn't sure he believed them. But when he got over the shore line his tune quickly changed. “Mother of God, is that a dinosaur?” He demanded, voicing his awe.

  Zack grinned. “Told you so, four three zero,” he said smugly. The refugees guided them in to land in the field nearby.

  Klinger led the hunters to pick them up. The plane came about, did a test run, then dropped its landing gear on the second approach and landed with some breath taking bumps and jars.

  As the mighty engines spun down and the hatch opened, a pseudo apatapod herd took umbrage at the intrusion and slammed the craft with their tails. Six-legged shovel heads also got uppity, shaking their heads back and forth and knocking the plane about.

  Klinger guided the crew to him as they evacuated out of the aircraft hastily. One of the crew was squashed by the rampaging animals, another was struck by a tail and thrown through the air like a rag doll, most likely killed. The others made their way ducking and weaving to the tree line and turned to see their plane destroyed by hundreds of tons of enraged animals. When it caught fire, the animals backed off, snorting and swishing their heads and tails.

  When the animals left the area, Klinger ordered a team to carry back the AWACS crew. The guy who had been hit by the tail was found, surprisingly alive but wounded. He was put on an improvised back board and carried by his crew mates back to the fort.

  Harris's team set up a perimeter around the wreckage. The left wing was shredded and on fire, the fuselage torn apart, but salvage of some of the gear was still a possibility. Roy agreed and came with several teams to help.

  The Navy team was amazed when a crude vehicle showed up. It was made up of the landing gear of the first aircraft, powered by batteries. It had a sturdy roll cage for a frame and trundled along towing an empty cart.

  “It's not a Ferrari, but it'll do in a pinch,” Roy said, climbing out of the vehicle. He shook hands with the Navy survivors. “I know you're not happy about being stuck along with the rest of us, but we're sure glad to see you all,” he said. They nodded.

  The teams chased off a few mini-dinos and creepies that were exploring the wreck and then dived in. One team formed a bucket brigade to put the fire out; another worked on the other side, draining the remaining fuel into bladders. Fortunately, the AWACS was low on fuel when it came down; there was little fuel and only a couple hundred gallons of hydraulic fluid left.

  They stripped the wreck of all survival gear, seating, food, electronics and everything portable in the first couple hours. Some of the electronics had self-destructed after the landing, courtesy of the protocols initiated by the crew. The raw material was left behind for the time being.

  Over the next several weeks, teams returned to strip the wreckage further.

  The AWACS crew was in shock but amazed at the refugees and their base, not to mention the alien world. Comparisons were made to Land of the Lost, Lost, Earth 2, Robinson Crusoe, and other survival epics were mentioned. “That's all fiction. Here we are living it,” Allen said, shaking his head. “I'd like to say I'd rather be watching it, especially the rather, um, exciting bits,” he said making a face. “But truth to be told, I've never felt more live here, living free. We're surviving and doing our best to thrive.”

  “Well, your radio reports,” the plane's captain nodded to Zack the civilian pilot. “And eye witness reports of the, um, wormhole event created one hell of a controversy. A new Bermuda triangle, this one on the West Coast right over major population centers,” he said as he told Roy and council.

  That sparkled a murmur from the audience. “After you disappeared, an increasing number of aircraft in the area had gone missing. A video from a fishing vessel of another craft getting sucked into the wormhole lent some evidence to something unusual was going on, but it didn't show up on ground radar at all.”

  “Damn,” Gunny Usher said quietly. “More people? You are the first we've heard about,” he said.

  “The others could have gone in different directions,” Lieutenant Brooks said. “My aircraft for its sins was designated to check it out and then troll the area for wreckage. A big chunk of the area above Catalina has turned into a no-fly zone, and that's not sitting well with the powers that be,” he said.

  “But they know we're here though,” Roy said cautiously.

  Lieutenant Brooks nodded. “I don't know if they got our radio signals once we were here, but we kept up a full telemetry feed right up until we crossed the event horizon and ended up…here,” he said with a wave. “We had a chase plane with us; they probably witnessed the whole thing. They didn't follow us at least,” he said. “At least I don't think so,” he said darkly. “Hope not,” he murmured.

  Excitement over people knowing of their plight and that others had come through was brief. “So more people?” Shawn Roberts asked, eyes bright with hope.

  “Don't get your hopes too up,” the copilot cautioned. “We spotted the wreckage of one or two other craft along the rocky shore of an island north by north west of here. No signs of survivors however,” he said. That made them wince.

  “Still, there is hope,” Roy said. He turned and waved to the group. “After all, look what we've done here. If we can achieve this….” he shrugged, turning back to Brooks and the council. “We can do anything. And so can they,” he said.

  “If they are out there, we'll find them,” the skipper said. Laura nodded. Others did the same.

  “Damn straight we will!” Dennis pipe
d up.

  ~~~~~O~~~~~

  MrequeX%&? was pleased with the results of its transports. All its listed targets had survived so far, and the additional genetic material would help keep them alive until they propagated, as was their nature. Technically, in its haste MRE had erred in transporting materials not belonging to the subjects, and it would pay for that transgression by censure by the collective.

  Transport of the other crude alien transports had also been unexpected it admitted. Mre had neglected to close the rift in his haste to move on to his next selection of targets. That error had been corrected with the most recent and final passage of the vehicle that had somehow found a way to land.

  The additional genetic material was minimal. Mre judged it was a fair trade, and it could scan the new arrivals for their genetics later. Judicial alteration in their genetic structure would be made later as time allowed. A subtle alteration in those who were judge unfit to pass on their genes would keep the gene pool clear. All was well with the program. It checked the collective feed and then happily moved on to its next assigned task.

  The End

  Federation Stories:

  The following are three short stories from the Federation (aka the Wandering Engineer) Universe.

  Timeline:

  Higher for Higher: This odd love story (of sorts) takes place after the first AI war and First Terran Interstellar War.

  Siren Call: An odd story of the crew of the freighter “Yellow Bird'” in the Rho sector just prior to the opening of the Xeno War. (Also known as the Gottenburg timeline)

  Bringer of Fire and Light: The story of Prometheus's first adventures that…It starts off midway through Jethro 3 No Place Like Home.

  Founding Federation Story:

  Note: The following is in PARODY. It is not to be confused with characters established by um…multi-billion dollar corporations with a lot of legal eagles on their side. :)

  Higher for Hire

  Crew of the Duck:

  Baloo the bear: Runs a small freighter the Space Duck. Brushes with pirates in gauntlet. Coyote don pirate leader.

  Kit Cloudkicker: navigator. Former pirate (was captured).

  Rebecca Cunningham: MBA graduate. Proud single parent. She bought the business. She serves as exec or captain when Baloo is lazy.

  Molly: Daughter of Rebecca. Molly is a “blond” cub, toddler, under two years old.

  Wildcat: Chief engineer. Naive, functional autistic. Neocat. Very good at repairs.

  Bagheera: Panther.

  Mowgli: Token human teenager. Hindu decent, black hair in a bowl cut. Almost feral.

  Other characters:

  Shere Khan: Merchant tycoon.

  Loi: Neo-orangutan who runs space station with elves, monkeys, baboons, and bots. His asteroid station is neutral.

  Loise: Loi's famous explorer aunt. Very rich and eccentric.

  Don Quixote Kar'nage: Speaks with a French accent. Emphasis on Kar'nage with the N being prominent. Waves a sword. Coyote/dingo Neo canine. Chewed up ear.

  <-----/^----->

  Baloo's Shipping fell into debt. It was what Rebecca Cunningham had been looking for, a business to salvage and turn around, the perfect thing to show others how good she was at business. Her ex had been a bastard, abusive, which was why she'd cleaned his clock in the divorce. That, and her very good lawyer.

  A professor and a classmate had given her the hot tip about Baloo Shipping. She'd jumped on it. She'd done her initial thesis papers on freight companies, having anticipated a job as a junior exec. But she had to prove herself to get there. She'd let a big corporation buy her out eventually, but for now she'd enjoy being her own boss, even if it was flying without a net. She was just glad her friend at Khan banking and loans had let her know about it before anyone else had gotten word.

  There were a lot of freight companies, most of them small and didn't make it. She'd done her research; the start-ups didn't last more than a year. Many never got past a single run, which was why she'd kept her eye out for a veteran in trouble. This one had practically landed in her lap; she'd almost missed it. The money from the divorce gave her the capital she needed to buy up the debt. Now there was one rather displeasing chore to do.

  She stomped to the pier with the sheriff and his deputy behind her. She held the papers clutched in her hands, hiding her nervousness. She would be the professional, she would be…she frowned. She really could rip into this owner; after all, he was the idiot who had gotten himself so deeply in debt, right? And it wasn't like she was keeping him. No, the more she thought about it, the more being a mama bear bitch had some appeal. And it wasn't like he could do anything with the sheriff there right?

  Besides, she was a bear. No one messed with a mama bear. “Baloo,” she murmured, looking around. Waves gently lapped at the docks. A bell rang in the distance; it was attached to a mooring beacon off shore. There were a series of them leading out of the cape and out to sea.

  He should never have gotten behind on his business and racked up bills of this nature. Business 101, always pay your creditors. He had also got behind on his mortgage, which was much more serious under most circumstances. That had allowed her the opening she had needed.

  Rebecca had bought up his debt; when everything was shifted to her name, she had changed the name of the company to Higher for Hire. She saw a rather large body in a hammock under the wing of the bird. She frowned, then wrinkled her pert muzzle at the smell.

  “Phew!” she said, waving a hand over her nose. “Is that him?”

  “Probably,” the sheriff said from behind her. “Baloo was on a bender last night. I made certain he got in okay,” he said. “Well, not quite all the way in, but close enough,” he said. She turned to eye him.

  “Baloo?”

  “Baloo the bear. Nice guy. He'd give you his shirt off his back if he could. Laid back guy.”

  “I'm not going to have any issues with you doing your job, am I?” she asked.

  “No, Ma'am,” the sheriff sighed, hitching his belt up a bit. “I'll do what I'm supposed to.”

  “Fine then,” she said, moving in.

  Baloo's entire universe changed when Rebecca dumped him out of his hammock after his bender; he hadn't quite made it inside the ship the night before. He smacked his jaws and rubbed his mouth and bloodshot eyes. “What's going on?” he asked dozily, rubbing at the fur on his head. He sat back and looked at Rory with bleary eyes. “Oh hey, Sheriff. Did I, um,” he looked around in confusion.

  He had drool dribbling from his chin. He wiped at it absently along with the crust in his eyes. She was repulsed by him; he stank something awful. His yellow shirt was thoroughly stained. He bent over and picked up his hat, then went to straighten but bumped his head on the wing. He grumbled, rubbing his now sore noggin as he moved forward, out from under the wing and reluctantly into the all too bright sunlight.

  “You a new customer?” he asked.

  “No, I'm the new owner. I'm putting you on notice!” she said, holding up papers. “This is your copy. Not that I expect you to read them,” she said. She showed him the papers. He looked over to the sheriff. The human shrugged helplessly.

  “Now look, Miss,” he said, rising to his feet. That intimidated both the female bear and the human. “What?” he asked, leaning back in confusion when they shrunk away, eyes wide. The sheriff even had his hand on his pistol.

  Rebecca came forward, thrust the papers in his face. He tried to read them. “Look lady, I don't know what this is all about. I'm no good with papers and stuff,” he said, trying to read. He had a hard time reading human words though.

  “Well, I'll read them for you,” she said. “It says here you got behind in your mortgage and the bank sold the business to me. I own the company and all its assets including the..,” she frowned. “Space Duck. Really?” she asked, wrinkling her pert nose.

  “Now see here sister, the Duck is mine!”

  “No, you see here you ignorant buffoon! I paid for her; she's mine now! Consider
yourself evicted!”

  “Evicted??!” Baloo asked. “Now hold on, lady,” he rumbled, hand paws up. “Slow down here, lady,” he said in earnest, trying to sound soothing.

  “Evicted as in fired. I'm putting you on notice. The sheriff here is the witness,” the female bear said, pointing to the human in uniform behind her. Another deputy was on land near a black and white police car. “He'll give you time to pack your duffel, and he'll make sure you won't sabotage my ship,” she said with her nose in the air. It was carefully engineered to be upwind of him.

  “Come on, Baloo, don't make a scene,” the sheriff said, sighing softly. “Don't make this harder than it has to be.”

  “Easy for you to say, Rory! You aren't losing your home and lively hood all in one go!”

  “You are a pilot, Baloo, a damn good one. You can get another ship.”

  “But not the Duck! What about my crew?”

  “You mean my crew?” Miss Cunningham asked in a pointedly put down way. “Mine now. They are on probation until I can find someone better, which shouldn't be too hard,” she said, looking at the Duck in disgust.

  “Now look here, lady,” Baloo said, moving closer. “Not my baby!” he said mournfully. “Anything but that!”

  At first Baloo was confused and scared, frightened of losing his ship and crew. Then he was pissed at her prissy attitude. She had a chip on her shoulder, thought she was oh so much better than he was. He let her rant about how poor a businessman he was, poking him in the belly while she clenched the documents. She stung his pride with her tirade about how he was such a terrible businessman and therefore a terrible captain.