Slipstream Messenger (Neutrino Book 1)

by Daltea Francis

  Slipstream Messenger

  Daltea Francis

  Slipstream Messenger

  Published by Daltea Francis

  Copyright © 2017 by Daltea Francis

  Cover art by Leslie M. Ball

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or other means, electronic or print, without the author’s permission.

  This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, events or places is coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Table of Contents

  Public Service Announcement

  1. Falling

  2. Panic with a Side of Regret

  3. A Rock or Hard Space?

  4. Silence in the Stream Port

  5. The Man in the Picture

  6. Darkness

  7. Desperate People

  8. Explanations and Excuses

  9. Sweet Talk and Tough Choices

  10. Self-Pity

  11. Arnasi’s Only Hope

  12. Farewell, Friend

  13. Escape

  14. A Perfect Moment

  15. Hiccups

  16. Begging

  17. Back into the Slipstream

  18. Danger Comes in Small Fuzzy Packages

  19. The Mission

  20. Realizing a Dream

  21. Moonlight and Nilfrits

  22. Night Spots

  23. Lake Effect

  24. Life in Neon

  25. A Slight Detour

  26. True Courage

  27. Telepathic Insights

  28. Reinventing History

  29. Protector

  30. Brighter Than the Sun

  31. Streamship Captain

  32. Gratitude

  33. Promotion

  Author’s Note

  For my nephew, the first fan.

  For my beta readers, thanks for all your help.

  For my sons, I hope you enjoy the adventure.

  For my husband, thanks for the constant love and support.

  Public Service Announcement

  Need to send a package half way across the galaxy by tomorrow?

  You need a Slipstream Messenger!

  The Slipstream Exploration and Messaging Service (SEMS) is here to help! Whether it's delivering an emergency medicine or simply a standard correspondence, Slipstream Messengers make deliveries anywhere quick, easy, and affordable!

  *SEMS is not responsible for lost packages due to Messenger error or death. Subject to Messenger and Slipstream availability, standard taxes apply.

  1. Falling

  After four attempts to graduate from the Slipstream Exploration and Messaging Service Academy, Neutrino had learned a few things that others seldom noticed. Like how to tell when Commander Trask was about to explode, or that the Talsuis Prime run was rigged to throw lesser cadets out into the void, or to never eat the meatloaf in the Academy cafeteria. The most notable and useful factoid was that Commander Trask assigned call signs based on his estimate of potential. Cadets named things like Sunbeam or Asteroid pretty much always graduated top of the class. Being named Neutrino, the smallest, most insignificant subatomic particle, meant that he would probably never graduate, no matter how many times he tried. Sadly, it was still preferable to his given name, although maybe not so much when the commander yelled it.

  “Neutrino!” Commander Trask snapped from across the Slipstream Training Port.

  Neutrino pushed himself off the wall that he had been trying to blend into, and averted his eyes from his snickering peers. It had been a lousy day of training and they knew he was in for another dressing down. Commander Trask had a habit of having private conversations very loudly, so everyone knew exactly where each other stood.

  “Yes, sir?” Neutrino focused his gaze somewhere in the vicinity of the commander’s chin. He didn’t dare make eye contact. That was like challenging a wild pibar cat to a duel.

  “How many times did you fall out of the Slipstream today?” Neutrino shrugged. He had stopped keeping count a long time ago. That stars-cursed Slipstream was always throwing him out into freespace.

  “Five times,” Trask continued. “Five times in three runs through the training course. I swear, in all my years as a commander, I’ve never had a cadet continue to fall out of the Slipstream as much as you! Do you just like floating in freespace? Or is using your thrusters so much fun that you purposely throw yourself into the void?!” Neutrino stared at the cleft in the commander’s chin and said nothing. What could he say? He could feel the other cadets staring. Commander Trask let out a long weary sigh and lowered his voice slightly.

  “The surprising thing is that your times, even with what you lost navigating freespace, are actually rather decent. You even beat Bolide by a fair margin, and he only fell out of the Slipstream once.” Neutrino dared a quick glance at the commander’s eyes to see if he was telling the truth. He was. And for a moment, Neutrino almost thought he looked pleased. Then the look turned and his voice rose again.

  “However, unless you can complete a clean run in the next three weeks, you won’t be graduating! Again!”

  “Yes, sir,” Neutrino mumbled and dropped his gaze once more. Trask shook his head and turned towards the class.

  “Training’s over for the day. Line up to head back to Central.” Then Commander Trask activated his air shield, punched in the pre-programmed route on the computer and stepped onto the launch pad. “I’ll be timing you from the other end, so no messing around!” With that, the glittering orange arm of the Slipstream came down and pulled him up into space. Then it was just the cadets left at the Slipstream Training Port, waiting their turn to head back to the Central Station on planet Venthall.

  Skulking back over to his wall, Neutrino slumped in defeat. There was no way he could make a clean run. He had been trying for nearly two years, but no matter what, he always lost his grip. A Messenger used their body to steer in the Slipstream’s viciously fast current. Too much movement in one direction or another and a Messenger would fall out of the Stream and into the stillness of space. Neutrino didn’t seem to have the reflexes to handle it.

  How do the others do it?

  Neutrino looked up in time to watch Eclipse shove Bolide to the ground as he tried to walk past them. Bolide was the last holdout remaining, besides Neutrino, that wasn’t likely to graduate. Not only were his scores abysmal, but his call sign said it all. A meteor that crashes and burns? That was even worse than Neutrino.

  “Don’t let them get to you,” Neutrino said, walking over to help him. He put out his hand to pull Bolide up, only to have it slapped away.

  “Don’t talk to me,” Bolide answered with a sneer, “I don’t need your help, loser!”

  Neutrino sighed. Even from the ground he was looked down on. Not that Neutrino could really blame him. Bolide, at least, probably had the good sense to just quit after this season, rather than coming back and failing three more times.

  I should have quit the first time. But becoming a Messenger was all he ever wanted to do, and after working so hard, for so long, how was he supposed to walk away now? How could he explain wasting two years without succeeding? He didn’t think he’d ever be able to face his mother again, let alone the rest of the universe.

  At this point in the season, there were only eighteen cadets remaining, most of who would be full-fledged Messengers within weeks. Neutrino watche
d them strutting around and laughing with each other. Eclipse hung lazily on Asteroid’s arm and whispered in his ear. Her long brown hair was neatly twisted on her head except for a single curl that Asteroid twisted around his forefinger. They were this season’s power couple. Both top of the class, both guaranteed fame on the most prestigious routes. But they were like the Huja fruit, beautiful on the outside, but sour and foul-tasting within. Neutrino had never seen either of them say a kind word to anyone, certainly not a lanky, scruffy haired failure like him. Few of the class superstars ever did. It had really ruined Neutrino’s illusions. He had grown up idolizing Messengers. He didn’t realize then that heroism did not necessarily equate with quality of character.

  Eclipse gave Asteroid an embarrassingly intimate kiss, then activated her air shield and stepped up to the launch pad. A portion of the Slipstream, being directed by the controls at the Stream Port, came down around her and she disappeared into space with a wink and a coy smile.

  Neutrino glanced up at the twinkling orange Slipstream through the Port’s clear dome and shivered. It flowed like a great canal of light and energy particles through all of Commonwealth space. Neutrino never understood exactly how it worked, but Messengers didn’t need to know anyway. They used the Slipstream to travel much faster than any ship could, but the science of how it worked was not their concern.

  It would be Neutrino’s turn soon. He took an anti-nausea film out of the tool kit on his belt and stared at the little green sheet of medicine that was supposed to help him deal with space travel. It didn’t seem to matter though, his stomach was always upset when he streamed, but he figured it was better than nothing. He slipped the drug under his tongue and thought of his first attempted trip into the Slipstream.

  Neutrino remembered feeling small and terrified as Commander Trask called his name. It was a horrifying experience; Neutrino had gotten crooked and didn’t even make it out of the atmosphere, but instead fell back to the ground, hard. If not for the incredible blue streamsuit he wore, he probably would have broken several bones at least. That was the same day that Commander Trask had named him Neutrino.

  Trying to set his embarrassment aside, Neutrino activated the air shield around his head. He took a deep breath in, checked the destination on the monitor, and stepped onto the launch pad. His stomach tightened and the familiar panic rose in his chest as the orange arm of the Slipstream came down around him. With a tingling sensation and sharp pull, he was yanked into the heavens. The brightly lit but now deserted Stream Port disappeared from view until all he saw was the orange glow of the Slipstream. He straightened out his body to get as much speed as possible. The sound of his harsh breathing was like a freight train inside his air shield.

  It’s just a regular trip; you’ve done it a hundred times. Focus!

  The trip from the Training Port back to Venthall was simple enough, nothing compared to the twists of the training courses, but there was one difficult turn. Well, difficult for Neutrino anyway. He could see that dreaded curve approaching; the slope and bend of particles that indicated a change in direction. He confirmed the angle with his heads-up display projecting inside his air shield. Trembling as he bent at the waist to ease into the turn, even with all of that information, he was, as usual, a little late.

  Stardust! Not enough! He put out his right hand to increase the turn.

  Neutrino was riding right along the edge of the Slipstream, but he was still in it. If he could just hold on!

  But he couldn’t. As the turn eased back into a straightaway he failed to correct the angle and he was thrown into freespace. A jarring nausea gripped him as his body was jerked free, spinning out. Neutrino ignored it and worked quickly to fire his thrusters with the controls in his gloves and get himself righted. He came to a near stop and then slowly maneuvered himself back to the Slipstream. He checked the direction with the nearest beacon and held his breath in preparation for reentry. Gah, he hated this part. Falling from the Slipstream was like running into a brick wall, but getting back into it was like being thrown, boneless, off a cliff.

  Neutrino nudged his way forward and took off down the Stream. He checked his display to see how much time he had lost; how far he was now behind the rest of his class. A nearly imperceptible grin quirked his lips as Neutrino glimpsed Bolide ahead of him.

  That must have been the fastest recovery in history.

  Then the smile vanished. A clean run. Impossible. If he didn’t manage it, he might be forced to finally give up. No one had ever attempted the Academy four times. The most Neutrino had ever heard of was two. He wondered how many more tries they would allow him. After all, the pressures of the Slipstream were hard on the body. A Messenger’s career was ten years at best, and Neutrino had already wasted nearly two of those years in the SEMS Academy. When would they finally tell him no?

  A silent explosion of light ripped through the Slipstream before him and Neutrino was once again thrown into freespace, this time much harder. Frantically he tried to right himself and fire the thrusters on his back, but whatever threw him out of the Slipstream was too powerful. He was quietly spinning out of control.

  Neutrino punched the thrusters as much as he could but it wasn’t enough, it only messed with the rotation. In between flashes of stars in a black sky, he spotted what he thought was some kind of moon or asteroid. It seemed to be getting closer, although he was so out of control, he couldn’t be sure. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t just passed out already.

  Hoping that his suit would be strong enough to protect him, Neutrino fell towards the rocky surface. The sound of his heart pounding in his ears was not quite enough to drown out the screaming terror in his head.

  What in the universe was that? What was the light in the Slipstream? An explosion? A comet? What about Bolide and the others?

  Is that the ground?

  His mind blanked as he half-landed, half-crashed on the moon. Before he could even catch his breath he clumsily stood up and swung around to look for the Slipstream. Desperately Neutrino searched the sky but saw nothing. Where was it? Had he been thrown that far away?

  Then finally he saw it. Or at least parts of it. More distant than seemed possible, loose orange particles were floating about in the sky.

  The Slipstream was gone.

  2. Panic with a Side of Regret

  Every night when Neutrino closed his eyes he dreamed of the same thing: he was falling from the Slipstream, spinning wildly through space and out into nowhere. Of course, that wasn’t much different than the reality of his waking hours. He was always tumbling from the Slipstream, but so far he had almost always found a way to right himself and maneuver back in. If he didn’t, well, there was always a rescue ship that could easily be sent to pick him up.

  Until now.

  Neutrino searched the sky for the umpteenth time, but the Slipstream appeared to be obliterated, probably by the same thing that had thrown Neutrino out into the void. Loose orange particles danced far away in the darkness above him, no longer connected, no longer flowing back to home. He shook his head to try and dislodge the sweaty brown hair that was clinging to his forehead. Considering his situation, not being able to wipe his face through the air shield was a silly thing to be so irritated over, but it was the last straw. Like stubbing your toe when you’re already late and a million other things have gone wrong.

  “Argh!” Neutrino screamed at the empty sky until he was breathless. Then he kicked the gray dirt at his feet and tried to think.

  Gah, he never should have listened to his mother. This was all her fault.

  “Slipstream Messaging is a noble profession,” his mother had always said, her messy blond curls twitching about her head and an admiring gleam in her eye. “I would have loved to have been a Messenger, if it hadn’t been for my bum knee, curse that hover driver! You know, your grandfather was one, not good for much else mind you, but he could make the Talisius Prime run better than anyone.” Neutrino had heard this same story practically every day of his life
.

  “What about my father? Was he a Messenger too?” Neutrino had asked once, not knowing any better.

  “He was nothing,” was her only response on the subject before returning to her eight-finger knitting and the latest space vid.

  Slipstream Messaging was the only thing his mother ever talked about with any passion. If Neutrino wanted her attention, he discussed the latest Messenger technology, or famous Messengers through history. Any other subject would receive a grunt or nod, but Neutrino got the distinct impression that no matter the topic, she was always thinking about space.

  When it came time for him to choose a career, Neutrino could see only one choice in his future: the Slipstream Exploration and Messaging Service. When he failed the first time his mother kept her chin up and said, “Next round, you’ll get it. I just know you will!” After the second time, she said the same thing with less enthusiasm. She’d barely spoken to him since then, their weekly breakfast a silent, mourning affair.

  Neutrino stood motionless, staring into space for an indeterminable amount of time. He knew he was in trouble. He was stranded on some kind of moon and no one knew he was there. Would a rescue mission be launched? Neutrino wondered about the others and whether any of them had made it back to Venthall. What if no one returned to base? Would anyone really know what had happened to his class?

  What am I going to do? I’m alone, if no one else survived, would anyone come looking for me?

  Probably not.

  The image of himself wasting away nearly caused him to pass out. He realized he was hyperventilating and struggled to get his panic under control. It was a familiar problem. Panic had been his constant companion these last two years. Every time he stepped up to the launch pad and felt the Slipstream come down around him to pull him into space, his heart beat faster and he fought to keep his breathing regular.