by Greg Remy
“What are you doing Miss Zoe?”
Not saying a word, she turned and brushed past him, rushing back to her ship, and returning with handfuls of mechanic’s tools. She dropped them on the floor, keeping the largest of the bunch, an oversized, pneumatic hammer, firmly in her grip. Zoe darted around a corner, led by her lightcard, and began pounding away on the engine.
“What are you doing?!” the captain cried out.
“Head wrench please,” she responded, holding out her hand from around the corner, the beam from her wrist illuminating the pile of tools at Captain Henry’s feet.
Stunned, he unwittingly complied and handed her the wrench. More banging was heard; the captain never leaned around the corner, evidently afraid to see what damage the refractory girl was causing among his ship.
Zoe became a blur, moving with celerity around the captain in his engine room, removing various pipes, welding others, constantly running back to her ship and returning with more tools. The semi pilot stood helplessly watching, constantly asking if there was anything he could do. The best he received was a “hand me this” or “hold that.”
During one of the return trips from her ship, Zoe had accessed the instrument panel in the semi’s cockpit and began running programs synced from her ship. As she continued to tinker away in the engine room, an assortment lights and buzzing sounds came from his cockpit. Zoe had with her a small accompanying computer, which she constantly typed away on between clanging of the engine. After an hour of dashing around and ignoring the captain’s many pleas to discontinue her assault on his ship, she stopped and declared, “All done!”
“What?!” exclaimed the captain, his wide eyes communicating through them the unsurety of anything that happened within the last hour. Zoe smiled. He looked as if he should lay down and reawaken later, recounting all this as a wild dream.
“I have rerouted all aft-thruster major and minor systems, allowing you full control of forward flight.” She smiled and brought up her side computer. With a flick of her wrist and a few finger gestures she remotely turned on all the lights in the semi. “Though it may not fly as fast as it once had, it should get you to a close port, no problem!” Zoe slowly stretched out her entire body, creating a wave of crackling joints from toes to neck. “Just make sure to get a new lock on your outer hatch, your current one seems to be… malfunctioning.”
She piled her work tools together and began walking back to her ship with both hands full. The captain did likewise, following her with the remaining tools, still with the look of astonishment upon him. She could read his expression: This small woman, this lone space girl, had just claimed to have fixed his transport vessel. Upon entering her ship, Captain Henry dropped the tools where she pointed and hastened back to his vessel, returning momentarily with armfuls of moonshine jars.
“Miss Zoe, please accept this gift for fixing my ship.”
Zoe had just finished putting away her tools and turned towards him. She looked down at his arms holding the illegal alcohol and smiled. “It would be my honor Captain Henry.”
The two exchanged their goodbyes. Zoe retracted the vacuum seal and both vessels set off in opposite directions. While Zoe was resetting her course, as before meeting the bootleg captain of the stars, she examined her main screen to see what her ship’s progressive scanners had found of the two impacts sites on the semi. Shapes and potential velocities were computed, revealing the damage was generated by two small cylindrical-like objects of great speed. The twin meteors had penetrated entirely through the semi and left in their wake near-perfect circular wounds. Simulations determined the objects each measured just under a meter in both height and diameter and each had retained its exact dimensions during the entire encounter. She had never seen such a phenomenon before, thus knowing all she could for now, archived away the information.
Zoe set sail, her ship throttled to maximum, the thrusters burning bright and becoming one with the stars. She settled in her captain’s chair, in much the same way the semi captain had in his and all captains in their respective chairs—that singular comfort in the entirety of the infinite void, among the nameless and uncharted, containing countless mysticisms and mysteries, in which humankind was apt to contemplate the beyond. These contemplations drove the captains of old Earth-1 to circumnavigate the waters of the world until it unhanded every mystery and wheezed out every last adventure, and so once more they had embarked, taking to the skies to fulfill that deepest desire on which they sailed.
Chapter 2
A Proper Introduction
Welcome to the Milky Way Galaxy—an expanse stretching over 35,000 floating-parsecs, comprised of a Spiral-Bc galaxy, containing within its galactic disk more than 730 billion nebulas, stars, planets, exo-planets, and home to the Homo-sapian-neosapian species. Congruent to Earth-1 time, the year is currently 4243 and had you been standing on its northern hemisphere, you would have found yourself in the warmth of May. Though now long abandoned, the original home of mankind has been left as a shrine, with a single museum on its lone, lonely moon.
It has been approximately 2,000 years since the human race successfully took to the stars, colonizing first the nearest hospitable systems, and soon dappling all four quadrants of the Milky Way. Each newly discovered lush environment notching away at the memory of Earth-1, replacing in its stead, the planets, moons, and space habitations providing greater extravagances and marvels than anything it could have provided.
As an effect of these new fertile romping grounds, the human race has begun to evolve with the peculiarities of each uniquely inhabited locale. Take for example, the elongated and quaint peoples of the Vardo System, living on its two largest planets and many retrograde moons. Their tall stature, defined after generations of living within the region, has been attributed to the light compositions of their spherical worlds. Even their central star contains more helium than usual. Or, consider the ever-angry citizens of the planet Urghag, revolving around their equally scornful red sun of Cantank.
Voyages and trade between planets and systems are common and as such, disputes do arise. Though these conflicts are not common, they are the one perpetual part of humans which will never be ameliorated by evolutionary means. Ergo, diplomacy is prevalent throughout the galaxy, allowing open commerce and travel for any and all. Space-liner vessels brilliantly zip from sector to sector and upon the whole, humanity has whittled out its beloved but forgotten Earth-1 from the nothingness of space.
To travel amongst the stars, to awaken under the warmth of Sirius, to eat lunch under the moons of Jupiter, and finally, to rest among the nebulas of Orion, requires transportation capable of superluminal flight, and it is so. Though the fastest of these crafts are often massive and generally utilized by the galactic peace-keeping Copper Force, some are of smaller sizes, expensive indeed, and generally reserved for dignitaries throughout the galaxy.
Zoe’s small craft was not of this status, yet among ships of its single-manned, lightweight-interstellar class, it was the most innovative, and in particular, the fastest. Directly after purchase from a junk lot, the dilapidated vessel was completely gutted and pieced, by Zoe herself. It was then reassembled, once more exclusively by Zoe, into a craft capable of speeds nearing .511 floating-parsecs per hour, as achieved solely by her. During that daring test flight, she had nearly decorticated the ship’s exterior from its own framework and vibrated all but the ‘Terminate’ button from her cockpit dashboard. It was in those final moments of existence when Zoe mightily threw her hand down upon it, engaged the automated shut-off, and saved both her craft and herself from certain doom.
It was Zoe’s masterpiece, hers to fly through the stars, to outrun every supernova blast, to scrutinize every dark corner of every moon, and to sail amongst the radioactive and the ultra-heated. Everything, from the ship’s onboard scanners to its hybrid landing roller-pad, had been fabricated and installed by Zoe. The ship housed little: a central chamber containing storage compartments within every capable space, a
cramped cockpit for one, narrow sleeping quarters—though rarely used as Zoe preferred the cockpit, a meager lavatory and a commissary containing less than minimal necessities. This was all more than enough to suit her needs. It contained no cooking equipment or large stores for water; as such, Zoe dined on self-warming nutrient packets and remained hydrated from the external filtering system, which autonomously collected water from space dust as she flew. The ship’s inner hull was composed of a deep-space rated titanium alloy. The outer was of a single piece, cast from a special plasma-poured mixture which Zoe had concocted herself. The ship gleamed effervescently, a star by its own might, a comet of its own course. It was hers, to dream in at every waking moment of the unknown just beyond sight.
Chapter 3
The Aviatrix
Three soft tones awakened Zoe. She lazily stretched while yawning and looked down at her control panel. She pulled up the ship’s monitoring and diagnostic systems; not even the slightest abnormality to be found onboard or anywhere within the region. Zoe yawned once more and rubbed her eyes. She laid back in her captain’s chair, staring out of the fused silica window; the same scene seen for weeks now. The emptiness of space antithetically felt confining.
“Screw this,” said Zoe aloud and leapt out of her chair.
She made her way to the ship’s central chamber and began rummaging through drawers, tossing tools and equipment over her shoulders until she found what she was looking for.
“Ah, bingo!” she happily exclaimed.
Zoe held up a jar of moonshine as if it was holy in essence, reflecting the effulgence of the heavens above, though in her case, from the recessed plasma lighting overhead. She unscrewed the cap and sniffed the alcohol; her body shuddered from the overwhelming vapors.
Next, she pulled out a handheld, cylindrical device with a glass door on its top and dials along its side. Zoe headed back to the cockpit and loaded the complimentary program. She then fastidiously trickled a few drops from the jar into the toroidal spectral analyzer and closed its lid. After a moment of whirring around, the results were displayed on the projection screen. Zoe smiled; the composition was perfect.
Zoe headed back to the central chamber and continued rummaging through more compartments. A short while later, buried underneath a hodgepodge of components, she emerged like a beast from the swamp, grasping a stannic riveter, sonic welder, and scraps of electronics, with rolls of wires wrapped around her. She climbed out and crawled above the metallic mire towards the cockpit. Thanks to much experience traversing such homebrewed environments, she shortly reached the cabin and laid down the materials, soon after rigging up something new with the grin of a mad scientist on her face.
As witnessed by the ever-silent and ever-watchful eye of space, blinding lights shot out from the cockpit window at random intervals while the small craft sporadically tilted and swayed. Inside, Zoe was tinkering away, opening up control panels to link thick gauge wires, welding components, tweaking program routines, and every so often taking a swig of moonshine. She had on her favorite welding goggles, her hair was tied back, and she remained for hours deeply involved in her work.
Finally, with a short, accomplished huff and a long sigh, she drooped to the ground and draped her body across the mounds of components and equipment. She relaxed there for a few minutes and then stood up, once more approving of her work, excited and ready to begin the experiment. Zoe took her station at the helm and prompted several programs.
“Pchh. Prepped for launch. Over.
You are cleared for launch V’Ger 6.
Engaging clearance sequence. Confirm go.
Go confirmed. Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six.” Zoe typed a command on her virtual keyboard. “Five. Four. Three.” The dashboard lit up from the initial program autonomously sequencing the oncoming protocols. “Two. One.” Her ship grumbled and shook for a moment. “Pchh. We have liftoff.”
Zoe clambered out of her chair and peered through the cockpit window. Below, a hatch had opened out into the void of space and a metallic hexahedron propelled out, via a gaseous jet, and stopped several meters in front of her ship, tethered by long electric cords. Zoe leaned over her control panel and typed in further commands. Two ingresses on opposite, horizontal sides of the box began to slowly open, marked by escaping greenish smoke. Then, upon the termination of this movement, a tube laggardly extended out from each opening. Zoe watched with great anticipation. Each tube reached its maximum length and then split apart, blossoming into a parabolic dish, and pointing away from one another. Zoe looked over at the empty jar on the dashboard, feeling slight remorse and then regarded the experimental cube in space, filled with that nose-painting liquid and amalgamated with the innards of a sonic welder. I do hope this works, she thought.
Floating in vacuity, the module began emitting ethanol-based electromagnetic resonances from each dish, transmitting invisible radiation through space. Data streamed across Zoe’s main screen to which she rubbed her hands together. “Good. Good.” She let loose a maniacal laugh and then smiled, amused by her own antics. She checked over the running programs. Satisfied, Zoe initiated a subroutine and stared out. The box began to vibrate as the power input increased, continuing to do so for a minute and soon easing as the flow stabilized. She leaned forward in anticipation, arched over the control console, and then started the second subroutine.
Lights throughout her ship flickered and the module outside shook once more from the enormous amount of power surging into it from her craft. Her virtual monitors suddenly became flooded with information deluging from the module. Zoe scanned over the data and noted the synchronous effects of the two emanations, nodding in approval. The next phase may yet prove a taaad more difficult.
Zoe took in a deep breath. Holding the oxygen in her lungs, she entered in the third subroutine and tightly pressed a cupped hand over her mouth and nose. The accustomed lighting in the ship was suddenly snuffed out and replaced by red flashing lights and emergency horns. Zoe could feel the air suddenly get very cold and the air pressure reduce. Outside, she could still see the module, which was vibrating spasmodically but maintaining its construction. As it began to successfully intake the dynamism put forth into it, to which it was then outputting through the dishes, all systems inside Zoe’s ship ere long returned to normal. The recessed lights returned, and Zoe took in several luxurious breaths. The module outside seemed calm now and completely rigid in space as if tied taught by the fabric of the universe.
Zoe stared with veneration. Emanating from either dish, in so singly a path, a mesmerizing, thin, azure line, extended out as far as she could see in either direction. She slapped the console with the good nature of achievement and began evaluating the flow of data.
With a crack of her knuckles, she initiated the fourth subroutine and began following the computer with quick finger movements. The beams from the dishes began to pulse. Zoe was busy typing away, ever so slightly tuning the parameters of the device. As resonance nodes became higher, the visible pulses increased in intensity; diffuse white and light blues hues oscillated through space with perfect sine curves.
A doubled tone announced the beams had reached their predetermined lengths in space, each nearly a hundred million kilometers long. Zoe initiated the feedback loop. The ship’s computer was working hard, continuously calibrating the pulsed beacons with the aid of Zoe’s hand whilst compiling information and delivering the infinitesimal analyses. Zoe was in the zone, sitting comfortably in her seat while modifying a dozen programs at once. Her eyes remained fixed to the screen, save for a few moments to ensure there was no catastrophic malfunction of the floating box.
With third or fourth finger movements of each keystroke, she was preparing the next and last stage of the experiment. Well, there’s no time like the present. Either this will be epic… or maybe it will fizzle. Zoe took in a deep breath and pressed the Enter button on her projection keyboard, initiating the final subroutine. She sat completely stationary in anticipation, staring at the module
. Nothing happened. She furled her eyebrows and hit the enter key again. This time, massive shocks instantly reverberated throughout the ship, nearly tossing her from her seat. She was quick to regain her balance and looked out at the module and then down at her computer display. The wild steed soon abated, and she loosened the grip on her arm rests. Immense pulsing beams of cerise and white were spewing forth from either side of experimental box. The entire module was glowing a dull red. With each second, the beams enlarged, soon matching the diameter of her ship. Lights within her spaceship flickered sporadically from the growing feedback of energy. Zoe worked fervently to adjust the input signal’s resonance in order to reduce attenuation from unwanted frequencies that kept cropping up. Suddenly, three blue markers appeared on her display. She opened her mouth in near unbelief for a second and looked out to the module.
“It worked,” she whispered in awe. Zoe stood from her seat and watched with amazement.
The light emanating from the two dishes were becoming homogeneous, like two long cylinders of light. Zoe knew what was happening. Along each’s axis, at the atomic-level, particles flowing through the beams were being rearranged, flowing in a compounding resonance sequence. Despite the zettajoules of pure deadly energy being shot out just a few meters from her, it was quite a beautiful sight. Next, as hypothesized, the two beams of opposing polarities began to curve upwards, slowly becoming to a single loop, by much the same way cathode rays bend under the influence of applied voltage. Zoe watched as the two massive plasma beams slowly arced upwards and toward each other on a truly fantastic scale. The loop had not yet completed, but it was evident the diameter would be of solar system-scale.
Suddenly, red lights flashed all over her display and sirens blared throughout the ship. Zoe sprang into action, instantly in her seat with hands poised above the virtual keyboard. The loosely interacting plasma jets were becoming unstable as each licked at the other with the energy of a hundred thousand nuclear weapons. The computer could not anticipate and compensate frequencies quick enough. A giant ark of wild blue energy split out from the loop and struck her ship. This time, Zoe was thrown from her seat. Just as quickly, she was up and typing into the console to steady the experiment. Despite her efforts, more arks ripped away wildly into space.
