by Tripp Ellis
Winston followed behind her, tiptoeing through the carnage. He was highly sensitive for a robot. If he could get nauseated, he probably would have been. The blood oozing from the bodies made the hallway slippery, and Winston tried to avoid stepping in the pools of crimson slime.
Max snaked through the passageways, making her way back to the cavernous cargo hold that contained the Vantage.
Finko’s eyes rounded at the sight of her. His face was bathed in a look of utter astonishment. It was like he was seeing a ghost. He shuddered, trying to decide which way to run. It was clear that he wanted no part of a pissed off special operator with a plasma rifle.
Finko took a few steps in one direction but stopped abruptly as Max unleashed several plasma bolts that exploded at his feet. The beams blasted the deck, showering molten bits of metal and debris into the air like angry volcanoes.
Finko froze in his tracks. He turned to face Max and mustered a somewhat apologetic face. He forced a smile. “I can see you’re pissed off,” he said, gingerly. “As you should be. But you can't blame a guy for trying to get his property back, can you?” He shrugged, innocently. “I’m sure you’d do the same."
Max fired another blast that exploded just before his feet. The debris pelted his shins. Tiny fragments of blistering metal embedded in his flesh.
Finko, grimaced with pain, but tried to play it off. He changed his tune with expedience. “You're totally right. It was unbecoming of me to take what is rightfully yours. My apologies. Please take the ship and its cargo. We'll call it even?” He followed the statement with an optimistic smile.
Max drew closer, aiming the weapon square at Finko’s ugly face.
"I don't think we’re quite even just yet. What about my pain, my suffering, my mental anguish?" Max asked, over dramatizing. "Look at my robot. You've upset him too.”
Finko’s eyes gazed to the neurotic android.
“He could be traumatized for life,” Max insisted.
Finko was trembling. Sweat was beading on his forehead. His slimy skin looked even more so. He knew that Max meant business. Looking into her eyes was like looking into the soul of a vicious predator. Finko may as well have been standing in front of a lion, or a grizzly, or an Alderian Fezzwort!
All deadly!
“You're right. I've been completely insensitive.” Finko chose his words cautiously. “How can I make amends?"
Max pondered this for a moment while staring down the barrel of her plasma rifle. “I'm going to take my Vantage to Hyperion 9. You are going to take this ship back to Delta Reticuli and fill it full of supplies. You are going to take those supplies to the survivors on Hyperion.”
Finko grimaced, then tried to cover it with a smile. He was absolutely opposed to the thought. Donating to a good cause, or helping those in need wasn’t his style.
"If you don't do as I ask, I will track you down. And that is the last thing you want.” The tone in Max’s voice signaled that she would accept no other answer but compliance. “Are we clear?"
Finko nodded. “We’re clear.”
Max smiled. "Good. I knew you were smarter than you looked.”
4
Hyperion looked majestic from space. It was only on her approach to the capital city of Devlaas did Max get the scope of the full disaster. The roadways were lined with stalled cars. Aerial vehicles that had fallen out of the sky lay in twisted, burning heaps. With no city services, buildings were left to burn. There was no electricity. Sewage treatment facilities were incapacitated. Even those who had extended duration fuel cells, fusion reactors, or solar collection systems were still without power as their control mechanisms had failed. Looters had pillaged every ounce of water and food from store shelves. There was no way to get food, water, or medical treatment. Even the most civilized of areas breaks down into chaos when basic infrastructure is compromised.
Max circled the city, looking for the best place to land. She found a temporary base setup by a Planetary Guard unit. They were handing out basic necessities to the civilians, but the crowd was enormous. They were keeping them at bay with a cadre of guardsmen armed with plasma rifles. But it was like a feeding frenzy in shark infested waters. And they were on the verge of becoming overrun. All traces of civility and manners vanished—the people needed resources, and they were willing to do anything to get them.
The guardsmen had set up a perimeter fence around the base, ringed with concertina wire. Civilians were attempting to climb the fences, and many were getting caught up in the razor-sharp wire. It didn't seem to deter others from attempting to scale the barriers.
Heat distorted the air beneath the massive thrusters as Max lowered the Vantage onto the temporary tarmac. The landing gear compressed under the immense weight of the vehicle as the craft touched down.
Max unbuckled her safety harness and moved to the rear of the craft. She opened the back hatch, lowering the ramp. A young sergeant greeted her on the tarmac as she marched down the ramp. “I’ve got supplies if you need them. It's a drop in the bucket, but…”
The sergeant smiled. “We’ll take everything we can get, ma'am." He shook Max's hand and introduced himself. "I'm Sergeant Stone with the Planetary Guard.”
“Max Mars. UF Navy, retired. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Likewise. We really appreciate the help.” Stone called to a few nearby soldiers. "Hawthorne, Hicks… Unload this vehicle."
“I've got antibiotics, MREs, and fresh water.”
“Everything we need.” Stone had short, sandy blonde hair and blue eyes. He had a fresh, innocent face. Not the eyes of a man who had seen a lot of combat. He looked a little frazzled. It was understandable. The temporary base was about to be overrun by a horde of panicked civilians.
“Looks like you got your hands full.”
“Yes, ma’am. It's a real SNAFU. Supply shipments are getting lost. Some of them have been hijacked. As you can see, this place is a little out of hand. This is all little new to me. Two weeks ago I was a reservist working at a desk job. After the terrorist attack on Proxima Detla 3, I was activated.”
“Seems like you're doing just fine.”
“Thank you.”
Hawthorne, Hicks, and a few other guardsmen unloaded the containers of supplies. They were on hover-pallets, making the 6 x 6 containers easier to move.”
"I can make another supply run, if you think it would be useful,” Max said.
“Like I said, every little bit counts. But I can't guarantee your safety if you come back. It's everything we can do to maintain order here. Command is talking about pulling out until reinforcements arrive.”
Max looked surprised.
“We are way understaffed for this type of thing.”
Felix sprinted down the ramp. Max caught sight of the little rascal out of the corner of her eye and scooped him up as he started across the tarmac.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
Felix meowed.
“An Antarian. That’s a very rare cat,” Stone said.
“I know,” Max said, baby talking the furry troublemaker as she snuggled him.
"I used to have one. Great animals.”
“He’s special, alright.”
“You know they live four times longer than the ordinary cat. And they don't get sick or suffer from disease. Pretty incredible.”
Hicks and the other guardsmen finished unloading the supplies from the Vantage.
“Well, I guess I should be on my way to get more supplies,” Max said.
Stone handed her a comm card. It was a thin piece of smart glass the side of a business card. It had an animated picture of the Sergeant, along with his contact information. All Max had to do was swipe the card and it would call Sergeant Stone. “Just in case you need to coordinate with me on your next supply run.”
Max wasn't sure if he was flirting with her or not. He was cute, she thought. No doubt about it. She took the card and slipped it in her pocket. She flashed a flirtatious smile, and her eyes spar
kled. "Well, it was nice meeting you, Sergeant."
“The pleasure was all mine,” he replied with a boyish grin. “Just be careful. A working ship is a commodity around here, and some of these people will do anything to get their hands on one.”
“I can handle myself, Sergeant.”
“I have no doubt about that."
Several civilians broke through the barrier. A section of the containment fence toppled as the horde stampeded forward, swarming toward supplies gathered on the tarmac.
Stone spun toward the commotion and commanded his squad to control the situation.
Max climbed the ramp and sealed the hatch. It was pure pandemonium, and there were way too many civilians for the guardsmen to control. They stormed across the tarmac and grabbed supplies. It didn't take long for fights to break out among the civilians. It was like a Black Friday sale at a big-box retailer.
The guardsmen fired CNX-30 gas into the crowd and attempted to suppress the mayhem.
Max dashed into the pilot’s seat and powered up the Vantage. It was best to get out of there before things got out of hand. The instrumentation came alive. The engines rumbled and wound up.
Cameras mounted in the hall gave Max an exterior view of the ship. Several civilians were were running towards the Vantage, hoping to catch a ride out of the chaos, or hijack the vehicle. Max pressed buttons and flicked switches. The ship’s diagnostics went through the preflight checks. After a moment, all systems came back green. A group of civilians had swarmed the ship and were beating on the hull. Some of them were climbing onto the wings. Others got too close to the thrusters and found out the hard way that they’d be roasted like a marshmallow over a fire.
Max flipped on the PA system, amplifying her voice to the outside of the ship. “For your own safety, please move away from the vehicle."
Her admonition didn't seem to deter anyone.
She engaged the vertical thrusters and lifted off the ground. She hoped people would get the hint and climb off the vehicle, but some were determined to cling on. She elevated to 10 feet off the ground. People were still trying to jump up and grab on. The ones that were clinging to the exterior of the ship weren't getting off.
“For your own safety, please get off the vehicle."
Despite the crowd control efforts from the guardsmen, the base was quickly overrun. A sea of people flooded across the tarmac. Like a swarm of locusts, they ravaged the supplies, and each other.
Max took the controls and rolled the ship side to side. It caused all the clingers to falloff—except for one. He hung onto the starboard wing, his feet dangling a few feet above the ground. Max elevated another 10 feet, but he still clung on.
“Last chance to get off. This elevator is going up.” She pitched the vehicle fore, then aft.
This guy was like a barnacle. He just wouldn't let go. She didn't want him to get hurt, but he couldn't come along for the ride. Maybe she could've taken a dozen people back to Delta Reticuli. But the crowd was anything but calm and orderly. There would've been no way to board any refugees in a controlled manner.
Max throttled up, and the Vantage lifted higher. The stowaway was going to be in over his head before long.
5
The man dropped to the tarmac and rolled as the Vantage lifted into the air. Better judgment had prevailed. Max watched as he stood up and dusted himself off, then joined the mob, fighting for supplies
The Vantage rumbled and shook as Max rocketed to the upper atmosphere. Within moments, the ship reached the exosphere, then interplanetary space. Max lifted in her seat as she left gravity behind. Her safety harness held her in place, the straps digging against her hips and shoulders.
The star field sparkled, and the planet below looked majestic. From a low orbit, there was almost no indication of the disaster.
“All of that death and destruction… It's horrible," Winston said. "I feel so sorry for those people.”
“Me too.”
Winston paused for a solemn moment. “It has gotten me thinking about death, though.”
“Why? It's not really something you have to worry about.”
“Deactivation, or mechanical failure, is always a concern.”
“True, but you won’t have to experience the pain of death.”
“Is death painful?”
“I've been pretty close on many occasions, and it was never any picnic.”
“What do you think would be the worst way to die?”
Max thought about this for a moment. There were plenty of ways she didn’t want to go out. “Suffocating. I think that's gotta be a pretty crappy way to go. Gasping for breath as your oxygen supply runs out? No thank you.”
“Since I don't breathe, I can't exactly relate. But it doesn't sound pleasurable. What does it feel like?”
Max shrugged. In Basic Space Combat Training Max went through many training scenarios where she was oxygen deprived. She had also been through plenty of real world experiences. "Well, your lungs burn like they're on fire. You get lightheaded and dizzy. Your vision begins to fade. If you're underwater, you will eventually reach a breakpoint. That's when your body overrides logic and demands you take a breath, even when you're surrounded with water. Suffocating is not a pleasant way to die.”
“It doesn't sound like it."
“If we are done discussing morbid subjects, I think it's time you plot jump coordinates for Delta Reticuli,” Max suggested.
“Aye, Captain,” Winston responded with a slightly sardonic tone.
Max gave him a look.
Winston entered data into the keypad and waited for the nav system to respond with coordinates. Max cruised the Vantage away from Hyperion. Making quantum jumps near heavy mass objects was never a good idea. You needed a minimum safe distance between entrances and exits, otherwise a slight miscalculation could place you deep within the mantle of a planet—always an uncomfortable position to find yourself in.
A light on the dash flashed. A static-filled, distorted, subspace transmission crackled over the speakers. It was an encrypted transmission—a series of beeps and buzzes.
Max's eyes perked up as they flicked to the display. “That's coming through on a restricted frequency.” Max listened intently to the coded transmission. She recognized the format. “That's a special ops message.”
“I concur,“ Winston said.
Years in project SW Ultra made Max finely attuned to such things. She listened a few more moments.
"That's a distress signal,” Winston said, deciphering the code on the fly. “I’ll see if I can locate the origin."
Winston tapped his mechanical fingers against the keypad at a blazing pace. He tabbed through navigation screens and homed in on the origin of the transmission. The signal ended just about the time he located the source. “It seems it’s coming from the Atako Nebula.”
Max lifted her brow. The Atako Nebula was not someplace anybody wanted to visit. Sure, it was beautiful and mystical, but it was also the stuff of lore and legend. In much the same way that old sailors told tall tales of giant sea creatures, spacemen for ages spun stories of haunted nebulas. It was all probably nonsense, Max thought. There was a logical explanation for everything. Still, the universe was a big place. And non-corporeal beings were certainly a possibility. Perhaps ghosts did exist, in some form or another?
It was unusual for a ship to venture into the Atako Nebula, knowing its reputation. And it was far more unlikely that someone would brave a rescue attempt. Many nebulas wreaked havoc on electrical and guidance systems. Once inside, it was almost impossible to find your way out—a thick soupy haze of stellar particles, hydrogen, helium, and other ionized gases. There were endless stories of ships that had disappeared into the nebula, never to return. Countless tales were regaled by drunk sailors in an attempt to scare young spacemen fresh out of boot camp.
Max's face tensed, torn with anguish. Maybe someone else had heard the distress call? Maybe they would venture into the nebula? But it was unlikely. The transmi
ssion would eventually reach the Joint Planetary Operations Command. They would surely send a rescue team. But the signal was weak and distorted. There were no guarantees that anyone else would ever hear it. The transmission stopped as quickly as it had started.
“How far is the origin of the signal from our current position?” Max asked.
“It's about a five hour jump from here. You're not thinking about responding, are you?"
"Don't tell me you're afraid of a nebula?"
“I am a robot. I know no fear.”
It was all Max could do to stifle her laughter. “Right. Plot coordinates for the nebula. Somebody might need our help.”
“As you wish.” Winston busied himself at the terminal. A few moments later the calculations were complete. “Ready when you are."
Max engaged the slide-space drive. The bulkheads bulged and warbled. Time dilated for an instant, then everything snapped back to normal.
Felix climbed onto the controls, taking his usual place.
“The stories aren’t true, are they?" Winston asked.
“Relax. We'll be fine." But even Max had her doubts about entering the Atako Nebula. She leaned back and relaxed, trying to get some rest. The last thing she needed to do was alarm Winston. He was high-strung enough as it was.
6
The Vantage emerged from slide-space just outside the nebula. Max scanned the area with the LRADDS (Long-Range Direction Distance and Speed). Despite the powerful capabilities of the scanners, the nebula was a blank slate.
"Program in coordinates for the source of the transmission. We are going to make a beeline for that point. Have the ship’s computer record our guidance system input. I want to map every turn and thrust vector. That way we can backtrack our way out of here.”
“Roger that,” Winston said. “But there is a possibility that the nebula is distorting our readings of the source of the transmission. It might not be coming from where we think it is.”
Max would be lying if she said her heart rate wasn't slightly elevated as she entered the nebula. She throttled up the Vantage and eased into the purple and green haze. The instruments flickered and screens went haywire. The LRADDS system was completely useless. It was a disconcerting feeling.
