Deep Space Intelligence : Complete Series

by Gary Weston

‘You still forgave Boss.’

  ‘No. I just stopped fooling myself we could be as we were. Lovers. New surgery techniques were available. This face is the result. That gave me the confidence to move on. I’m not sure how that helps you or Frank. I can tell you this. When I went through my troubles, all I had was booze. Frank has you. I don’t think he’ll ever truly get over this, but with your help he’ll learn to live with it. You are his rock, Shorty. Just love him and let him love you.’

  Shorty had to look away, not wanting Tilly to see the tears in her eyes. ‘I can do that. Tilly…’

  ‘I know. Go to your man and love him.’

  Chapter 275

  It started as a small brown stain. Sergeant Jonah Cratchet hated stains. It was his personal vendetta. He had seen his share of action as a sergeant in D S I Military, but his long term goal was to run his own business on the back of a small pension. No more being shot at. Plumbing. Cleaning. That was his destiny. To that goal, he hunted down issues, problems and stains. He had been particularly proud with the way he had risen to the challenge of urine distillation. He could just see it on the business blurb.

  “Jonah’s Commercial Property Maintenance. Ammonia supplies a speciality.”

  What he could also see was a stain on the airlock door. It had not been there yesterday. Of that he was certain. But, here it was. Brown. Dried up. And it had trickled down the paintwork. It had to go. He had never been defeated by a stain, and he wasn’t about to start now. He picked his spray bottle of choice and with a clean cloth in his other hand, he blasted the offending mark. It wiped away easily, but left a faded patch to the painted surface. Not a perfect result, but the stain had gone. He went away reasonably satisfied. He was less than amused when he checked up on the job and found the stain had returned.

  ‘This is getting stupid,’ he told himself, staring at the nasty brown stain. It had gone. He was sure of that. It was back. He was sure of that, also. ‘Ok. This is the best thing in my kit. Bye bye stain.’

  And it worked. A spray with his secret brew, and a wipe with a clean cloth. The stain was gone. Cratchet, a happy bunny, went off for a well earned dinner.

  But, before bedtime, Cratchet couldn’t resist a last look at the airlock door. The stain. It was back. Not as bad as before, but it was definitely there. The hint, the suggestion of a brown stain. A confused and dispirited Cratchet sprayed, rubbed and cursed, not in that particular order, then, with the stain gone, again, he took himself off to bed. But the next morning, the stain was back and so was he.

  ‘What the hell are you? I get rid of you, you come back. What’s that all about?’

  ‘Hrmm,’ said Millet. ‘I get a little concerned when one of my crew talk to the walls.’

  ‘It keeps coming back.’

  ‘The wall?’

  ‘The stain on the wall. See that?’

  ‘That brown smudge?’

  ‘Ah! Technically incorrect, Sir. Smudges, by their very nature, have been rubbed. Stains that have been wiped.’

  ‘I thank you for that clarification. So. This is not a smudge, but a stain.’

  ‘Correct, Sir. It was a stain. Twice. I removed it.’ He looked Millet in the eyes. ‘I did not turn a stain into a smudge.’

  It had been a hard and long couple of weeks and yet here Millet was, arguing semantics with his maintenance engineer, about the difference between stains and smudges. But Cratchet was a good man. Mostly ignored to get on with his job, he was a straight shooter and one of those who kept the wheels on the wagon.

  ‘Ok,’ said Millet. ‘So. This stain keeps coming back?’

  ‘I wipe it away, it comes back.’

  ‘We both know this is ridiculous, right?’

  Cratchet did not like his opinion on stains questioned, even by Generals. ‘Fine. Whatever. Watch this.’

  Cratchet sprayed his secret formulae on the brown stain, then wiped it away. ‘Three generations know what goes into that spray. Dragging me over hot coals will not make me reveal it. Nasty, hot sharp pointy things stuck in sensitive parts of my body will not make me….’

  Millet said, ‘Ok. You have a good cleaning product. But the stain keeps coming back?’

  Cratchet pulled himself up to a less than impressive five feet seven and puffed his chest out. ‘That is not just any old stain. That is is the Beelzebub of stains.’

  ‘Cratchet…’

  ‘Sir. I know stains. This is beyond stains.’

  ‘But how…?’

  ‘That’s all I’m saying, Sir. That stain ain’t natural. I’m off for a shower.’

  Chapter 276

  The wall, specifically the inner door to the airlock, became a source of curiosity and debate. Theories abounded.

  ‘T’ain’t natural,’ Cratchet insisted.

  ‘Mind if I take a look?’ Troy Warner asked. ‘As one professional to another.’

  ‘Be my guest.’

  Warner had been asked by General Millet to investigate the anomaly. He had brought an illuminated, high-power magnifier to examine the offending stain. Fitting the headband around his head, he turned the device on. Turning the adjusting dial on the side, he studied the stain.

  ‘Hmm. Interesting.’

  ‘What is?’ Cratchet asked.

  ‘There’s a series of holes where the smudge is.’

  ‘Stain. Not a smudge. It’s a stain.’

  Warner turned to face Cratchet, forgetting the magnifier was still turned on and had a terrifying view of Cratchet’s nose, bogey and nose hair and all.

  Flipping the magnifier out of his way, Warner said, ‘I bow to your superior experience. But, my concern are those holes. Here. Take a look.’

  Cratchet took the magnifier from Warner and placed it on his own head, and Warner adjusted it for him. Then, Cratchet took a look at the stain. ‘There are holes around it,’ he said.

  ‘I believe I mentioned that. Something has eaten through the metal. Something acidic.’

  Cratchet looked at Warner, went ‘Yuck!’ then took off the device. ‘I thought the airlock was washed out by the General and Shorty with the urine.’

  ‘They were in a hurry for us to take off at the time. Perhaps they missed a bit.’

  Cratchet said, ‘It will have to be dealt with properly. If that acid is eating the outside door as well, with the holes in the inner door already, well….’

  ‘I agree. Somebody needs to go in there and spray it all out. But to be on the safe side, we need the holes here to be patched up first. Can you do that?’

  ‘If I can’t fix it, it ain’t broken. Yep. I’ll get the door fixed now.’

  Warner left to have a word with General Millet, leaving the handy Cratchet to do his job.

  ‘Warner. You have your serious face on.’

  ‘That stain on the airlock door. Acid is seeping from inside the airlock, into the ship.’

  ‘It is?’

  ‘I checked it out with my magnifier. At the moment, there are tiny perforations. The acid keeps leaking through them.’

  ‘Right. How…? Oh. I guess me and Shorty missed hitting some with the ammonia. We need to get it all cleaned off completely.’

  ‘Sergeant Cratchet is patching the holes right this minute. He pointed out that if the acid is eating the outer door, we’ll have a serious situation.’

  ‘Wait right here,’ said Millet. Millet entered the flight-deck. ‘Captain Darron. ‘Any sign of pressure loss in the airlock?’

  ‘The airlock? No, Sir. The pressure is within normal parameters. Anything I should know about?’

  ‘We have a perforated inner airlock door. But acid is leaking into the ship. Sergeant Cratchet is patching that up, but we need to get inside and clean it up before it turns into a more serious problem.’

  ‘That’s a given, Sir. Keep me posted, will you?’

  ‘I will. I’ll go see how Cratchet’s going on.’

  As Millet left the flight-deck, he found Shorty talking to Warner. ‘Heard what’s going on?’ Millet asked.


  ‘I’ve just been told by Troy, here. A good job we found out in time.’

  They went together and found Cratchet finishing off the repair.

  ‘All done, Sergeant?’ Millet asked.

  ‘Yes, Sir. Tain’t pretty, but it will do until we get home.’

  ‘Right. I’ve checked with Captain Dorran,’ said Millet. ‘No pressure leaks in the airlock. It should be safe to enter. Sergeant. If you get the Captain to open the airlock.’

  Shorty said, ‘We had better all suit up in case the outer door has been weakened in any way.’

  ‘Right. You do the honours and tell everyone,’ said Millet.

  Shorty made the announcement and Millet and Warner waited for everyone to suit up and for Cratchet to return with the ammonia spray unit.

  ‘All set, Sergeant?’ Millet asked.

  ‘I want to fix this thing, Sir. Ready when you are.’

  ‘Ok. Captain Dorran. Get ready to…’

  ‘Wait,’ said Shorty. ‘Look. That stain is back again.’

  And so it was. Just the tiniest trickle, from the lower edge of Cratchet’s repair, was running down the door.

  ‘That,’ said Cratchet, ‘Was a clean and perfect patch. Fresh acid has done that damage.’

  Warner said, ‘General. I’ve an uneasy felling about this. We should take a look inside without opening the airlock door.’

  Cratchet said, ‘Grow a pair of X-ray eyes, now do we?’

  ‘No, Sergeant,’ said Warner. ‘You drill a nice neat hole and we poke a camera inside.’

  ‘Do as he says,Sergeant,’ said Captain Armstrong.

  Cratchet scurried off for his tools leaving the others to become increasingly anxious. They shared the same thoughts, but neither would say it out loud. Cratchet returned with his tool-belt.

  ‘Ok, Sir. Where do you want the hole?’

  ‘Here,’ said Millet. ‘Above the stain.’

  ‘Right, Sir. Stand back please and give a man some room.’

  They did that and Cratchet made a small pilot hole. Then, he went up in size until the camera he’d found, was a snug fit.

  ‘It should transmit to that terminal over there, Sir.’

  They gathered around the terminal. What they saw, made them all gasp.

  Chapter 277

  Raven said, ‘Miss Saltoe. Tell me why is it emergencies only happen at three in the morning?’

  Saltoe had called Boss and had whispered she was outside in the buggy, waiting to whisk him off to his office. ‘One of life’s imponderables, Boss. I hope I didn’t wake baby Dixon up?’

  ‘Not this time. Care to tell me what this is all about?’

  ‘No. I’ll leave that to General Millet.’

  The buggy took them to the Deep Space Intelligence building and they got out, the buggy off to park and charge itself. Don Rickets was his usual immaculate self behind the reception.

  ‘Good morning, Boss.’

  ‘Probably not, I’m guessing. Sorry, Don. Good morning.’

  Raven and Saltoe went to the elevator. Boss was ready with his thumb, but Saltoe brushed his hand away.

  ‘This door doesn’t like you.’ Saltoe pressed her thumb on the panel and the door opened smoothly. Inside, she pressed her thumb on the number nineteen. The top of the building and Boss’s offices and control room.

  ‘How can a door not like me?’

  ‘Eleven times we have had this unit replaced and calibrated. It still doesn’t work for you.’

  ‘It might have.’

  Saltoe said, ‘Did it work for you last time?’

  ‘Well. No. Don opened it for me.’

  There was a soft “ding” and the elevator stopped. Saltoe pressed the sensor and the door opened for her.

  ‘I left the channel open,’ said Saltoe. ‘General Millet should be waiting for you.’

  Boss went to his direct line communications room and settled in the seat. ‘General Millet.’

  ‘Boss. Not much of a delay, now. We have a…’

  ‘A bit of a situation. So I gather. Out with it, Frank.’

  ‘We seem to have picked up a stowaway, Boss. Off that planet.’

  Boss said, ‘Could you be more specific?’

  ‘An invisible stowaway. Except it isn’t invisible now.’

  ‘You can see the thing?’

  ‘Yes. Mostly. It must have come on board seconds before we took off. We had no way of knowing that at the time. While we have been coming on our way home, it has been penned up in the airlock. Being completely sealed up, the air was running out. To get air, it used its acid to burn little holes in the inner airlock door. But the creature is weak, possibly dying. Care to see it?’

  Boss said, ‘Very much so.’

  With still a few million miles to go, the visuals were still not great. But they were clear enough for Raven to get the picture. The being was slumped in a corner of the airlock. Raven knew the approximate size of the fighter’s airlock, so he estimated the being was roughly twice the size of a man. It was humanoid in form, legs, arms, head and eyes the regulation human number. Its skin looked more reptilian than human, and slightly orange in colour. Where it also differed from a human was that it wasn’t all there. Or at least it was. But not all of it could be seen. Its right arm, including the shoulder, was missing, but the rest of it could be seen.

  ‘It looks dead, Frank.’

  ‘No, Boss. If you look at its chest closely, you can see its still breathing.’

  ‘Can’t you just dump it out the airlock?’

  ‘Yes, we probably could. But do we want to do that?’

  ‘Frank…’

  ‘I know, Boss. Troy Warner is here. Listen to what he has to say.’

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘Warner. You have something to say?’

  ‘Yes, Boss. We know for sure that there are two species of invisible beings. Both sentient. Both with language and the ability to express ideas in the written form.’

  ‘I read your reports, Warner.’

  Warner said, ‘Boss. We saw the two creatures fighting. They hate each other. One of them I believe, is not unfriendly towards us. I think it tried in the best way it knew how, to warn us of the other lot. It was trying to help us.’

  ‘Tell me exactly what’s going on in that scientist mind of yours, Warner.’

  Warner took a deep breath. ‘Boss. We have a creature in our airlock that might be dying. It possibly tried to help us. It is also an intelligent being. Sure, we could kill it. But would we be killing a friend or a foe?’

  Raven digested that for a moment. ‘Right. We have an intelligent being in the airlock. It could be one of those who killed two of our people, or it could be a being that genuinely tried to help us. We could simply let it die, toss it out into space, or help it.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Warner.

  ‘But if you help it, it might recover enough to get inside the ship and kill all of you.’

  A pause. ‘Yes,’ said Warner.

  ‘And you pass the buck to me to decide?’

  General Millet butted in. ‘Sorry, Boss. This goes beyond my authority.’

  ‘In other words, I have to call the shots,’ said Raven. ‘If I say kill it, we could be killing a friend to humans. But, then we would never know. I say let it live, the thing could get into the ship and kill all of you. You lot got any smaller problems I can deal with?’

  ‘Not at the moment, Boss,’ admitted Millet. ‘While you think it over, what would you have me do?’

  Raven said, ‘Right. Give it air and water. Warner.’

  ‘Boss?’

  ‘I’m always open to the possibility a scientist will one day impress me. You need to find a way to communicate with that creature. It has a language. Learn it and use it. But be quick about it. If that being is a friend to humans, we need to keep it alive and learn from it. Give it water…it does drink water, right?’

  ‘They do have good water on their planet, Boss,’ said Warner.

  ‘So. Give it water. Lea
rn to talk to it before it dies. Find out what it eats. Frank.’

  ‘Boss?’

  ‘Either way. If that thing poses a threat, dump it.’

  ‘I’ll do that.’

  ‘Good. Oh. You get any more emergencies, try to keep them within normal office opening hours?’

  Millet said, ‘I’ll try to have all my emergencies make an entry in my diary.’

  ‘Good idea. Goodnight, good morning or bloody good afternoon, Frank.’

  ‘My love to Joy and Dixon, Boss.’

  ‘All of the above, Frank.’

  Raven turned off the transmission. ‘Never a dull moment, hey Miss Saltoe?’

  ‘Who the hell wants dull moments?’

  A few hours later, Raven got back home. Joy Dainty was feeding baby Dixon.

  ‘Are you coming or going?’ Joy asked.

  Raven sat heavily into his chair. ‘You tell me. I lose track.’

  ‘Want to tell me all about it?’

  ‘Telling is easy. We have an acid hurling creature in the airlock of Frank’s ship. Might be friendly. Might want to kill humans. Either way, it is a sentient being. We can kill it, or say hi, nice to meet you.’

  ‘And you said?’

  ‘Keep it alive and talk to it.’

  Joy said, ‘See what a wise and wonderful daddy you have, Dixon? Oh yes he is. Oh yes he is.’

  Dixon pulled away, looked at daddy, vomited on mom’s chest, then carried on feeding.

  ‘Not helpful,’ said Joy.

  ‘Everyone’s a critic,’ said Raven.

  ‘What a problem to be dumped on you,’ said Joy. ‘Millet couldn’t handle it?’

  ‘No. It had to come to the Boss. I sort of passed it back to him. I told him to keep it alive and learn its language. That should keep them busy.’

  ‘Smart move. But if they don’t figure it out in the next couple of days, you have to decide if you let them land with an acid spewing being who can turn itself invisible by just thinking about it.’

  Raven sighed. ‘Is that all I gotta do?’

  Joy put Dixon in his cot and took off her soiled top. ‘We could swap if you like. I’ll go rule the galaxy. You look after Dixon.’

  ‘Hell, no. You take care of our boy, I’ll do the easy job.’

  ‘Chicken.’