Hard Vacuum 1

by Simon Cantan

  Contents

  Title Page

  Amazon Copyright page

  1 - Docking

  2 - Infiltration

  3 - Shipping

  4 - Power

  5 - Darkness

  6 - Vacuum

  7 - Double play

  8 - Showdown

  9 - Recovery

  10 - Revelations

  Author's note

  Also by on Amazon

  HARD VACUUM

  HARD VACUUM

  By SIMON CANTAN

  First published December 2013

  This Kindle Edition published May 2014

  Copyright © 2014 Simon Cantan

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  The moral right of Simon Cantan to be identified as the authors of this work has been asserted by them in accordance with the Copyright, Designs, and Patents Act 1988.

  Hard Vacuum is a work of fiction. Names, places, and incidents are either products of the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously.

  Published by Simon Cantan.

  Edited by Garrett Robinson.

  Cover by Author Marketing Club.

  Chapter 1

  DOCKING

  The space station was a gaudy-looking thing, emblazoned everywhere with the WeaverCorp logo. Four pizza-slice-shaped docking rings met in the middle in a bright, flashing round hub. WC blinked out into the vacuum of space from the top.

  The troop ship, also billboarded with WeaverCorp logos, inched closer. It extended a long, flexible coupling towards the metal ring of the docking port. The coupling wrapped itself around the ring and clung on, pulling tight. The ship spurted again, matching speed with the station.

  Kyra Sarin turned off her ReadyNet connection, and the image of the ship winked out of her vision. She grinned at the flight attendant sitting opposite her and got a shy smile in return. Kyra's dozen medals, floating back and forth, abruptly fell with a clink as the station's gravity enveloped them.

  Kyra took a photo from the front pocket of her combat suit and stared at it. A static shot of her daughters, waving at the camera and smiling. They'd been four and seven, respectively, when the picture had been taken. Kyra didn't know what they'd look like now, after five long years of war. Communications in the outer solar system had been impossible. She wondered if they would even recognise her.

  The flight attendant got to her feet and said something in Mandarin, waving to Kyra.

  Kyra couldn't understand her words, but she got the message — she could leave the ship. Some genius on Earth had decided to hire English speakers to fight and Mandarin speakers as support. It was worst in supply situations, where the ReadyNet connections regularly messed up a translation.

  Kyra unbuckled her seatbelt and got to her feet, pulling out her bag from an overhead locker. She glanced back at the rows of seats behind hers— five hundred of them, all now empty. Four hundred and ninety-nine of her friends (and enemies) had died at the hands of the Xenomigrants.

  The flight attendant said something else, a little more urgently, and waved again.

  Kyra nodded and followed the woman out of the ship, across the soft coupling and into the space station.

  Five hundred soldiers were standing at attention in front of the docking port. They saluted as one. Their captain managed a weak smile, trying to hide her nervousness, and approached.

  "Sergeant, it's an honour to meet you," the captain said.

  Kyra read the woman's name — Kumar — and nodded. "Captain Kumar."

  Captain Kumar leaned in close. "I don't mean to bother you, but I wondered if you have any advice?"

  "Aim for the fucking knees," Kyra said. She pushed past the captain and walked between the soldiers, all of them still at full salute. They looked like innocent children. Some of them even wore makeup.

  "Alright you fucking swamp rats, get on the boat before I shoot you myself!" Captain Kumar roared.

  Kyra turned and watched row after row of soldiers jog inside the ship. She tried to recall the same moment, five years ago, when she'd flown out. The memory wouldn't come.

  For over a decade, five hundred soldiers had gone out every month. All of them sent to fight the Xenomigrants around Eris. Of those thousands, four had survived long enough to return home. The screens in the barracks had played endless loops of their homecomings — a futile dream that it was possible to survive. Kyra had abandoned that hope early. Soldiers who clung to it died quickly — their minds focused on Earth and not on the gigantic bug trying to eat them.

  The last soldier ran through the soft coupling into the ship, and the docking port irised shut.

  Kyra walked to a nearby porthole and looked out. She watched the ship fall away from the station, white plumes of liquid jetting from it. Somehow, seeing the ship leave made the return to Earth more real. Now there was no way of her returning to Eris. For some reason, she felt a twinge of sadness, but it was suffocated under relief.

  With the ship gone, the docking area sprang into action. Workers appeared from nearby corridors and began moving crates and connecting cables.

  Kyra pulled up a map of the station on her ReadyNet and located the barracks — a short walk from the port. WeaverCorp probably didn't want soldiers traipsing around the station, getting in the way of the support personnel.

  Kyra walked across the docking port, ignoring the shouting workers. One of them drove straight for her in a pallet-loader, a large crate blocking his view. Kyra activated the servos of her suit legs through her ReadyNet and sprang forward, vaulting four metres and clearing the crate. She glared back at the man as he sped by, oblivious.

  Reaching the edge of the dock, Kyra turned down the corridor towards the barracks. On the right side, a dozen gaudy shops blinked and waved on her ReadyNet. She keyed them off. They still had old-fashioned lights and screens, but those were easier to ignore.

  She opened the barracks door and walked inside. Row after row of bunks filled the space, all empty.

  "Hello?" Kyra called. Her voice echoed around the giant room. "Where the fuck is everyone?"

  Her ReadyNet brain implant showed the icon for an incoming video message in the corner of her eye. She focused on it to click it open.

  A short, smiling Indian man waved at her. "Hello, Sergeant Sarin. I'm Manik Dada, your liaison Earthside for your reintegration back to Earth. I'm here to help with the transition to civilian life. I'm sorry I can't be there, but all non-emergency shuttles were confined to the hubs for the past week. Your shuttle has now launched and will arrive in twenty-four hours' time, after it resupplies Kingman station. In the meantime, we've credited your account with two hundred Weaver dollars. You can spend it at any of the station shops. If there's anything else I can do for you, please don't hesitate to contact me."

  Manik grinned and the video froze, holding on his wide grin and half-open eyes.

  Kyra closed the video, throwing her bag on the nearest bunk and sighed. Typical WeaverCorp bullshit. They couldn't organise a wet dick in a whorehouse. She walked to a bunk and lay down, helmet and armour on because she was too used to it to sleep any other way. Closing her eyes, Kyra set a timer for twenty-four hours ahead. She deactivated her ReadyNet and fell asleep in an instant.

  Chapter 2

  INFILTRATION

  Kyra's eyes snapped open, and she looked around. Something had woken her. The bunk was shaking. Sitting up, Kyra scanned the room. The shaking stopped. For a moment, she wasn't sure if she'd dreamt it.

  She switched on her ReadyNet and checked for station alarms, but there was nothi
ng active. Kyra called up her shuttle timer - twenty-two hours, fifteen minutes. Grumbling, she lay back down and closed her eyes. Something had probably just fallen over in the dock.

  ***

  Her eyes flicked open again, this time to the unmistakable whisper of flak fire.

  Kyra rolled to her feet and rushed to her bag, searching for her gun. It took her a long second to remember it wasn't there. It had been taken before she'd boarded the troop transport home - needed for the war effort. It had felt like losing a limb when they'd taken it.

  Kyra dropped her bag and darted to the door. She opened it a crack and looked outside.

  Men with guns were out in the corridor, rounding up the station crew. One of the gunmen moved from shop to shop, searching for anyone hiding in the racks.

  Kyra sprinted to the rear of the barracks where she knew she'd find an airlock. The exit was standard on every WeaverCorp barracks in the solar system. It had saved her life more times than she could count. She bolted into it, checked her suit seals and pulled the door closed. As the airlock cycled, she stared through the window in the inner door.

  A gunman strode into the barracks, his gun held ready. He walked to her bag and poked at it. Seeing there were no weapons inside, the man moved on to search under each bunk.

  The airlock finished cycling and pinged. Kyra shoved the outer door open and clambered outside. She could see the man inside the barracks hurrying towards the airlock.

  She was concentrating too much on the man and almost missed the handhold on the hull. She didn't have thrusters. A missed handhold meant a slow death drifting through space. Kyra pulled herself close to the hull and waited. When she thought enough time had passed, she looked back through the window.

  The man walked away from the airlock; apparently he hadn't seen her. He reached her bag and picked it up again, slinging it over his shoulder.

  "Once I get that gun, I'm going to give you a prostate exam with the barrel," Kyra growled.

  Kyra wondered just who the men were. They were obviously military from the way they moved, but they didn't keep together like a squad. She concluded that they had to be mercs.

  Male mercs too. From her experience on the front lines at Eris, men weren't worth a damn in combat. They were too weak and too emotional to handle it.

  She closed the outer airlock door and scanned the area around her. She was clinging to the wall of the large metal wing, which extended all the way to the centre of the station. A few handholds ringed the door but didn't extend further out. A hundred metres to her right, a soft coupling tunnel connected Delta Wing to Alpha. Following the length of the soft coupling with her eye, she could see an airlock jutting out, halfway down. It was two hundred metres from where Kyra floated.

  Kyra enhanced her vision with her ReadyNet and zoomed in on the airlock. She could make out handles around it. Without any kind of propulsion, it was going to be risky, but she didn't see any other way. She lined up, planting her feet against the hull. After making a last-second adjustment, she launched herself into space.

  A hundred and seventy-five metres to go.

  A hundred and fifty.

  The space station jolted from some kind of impact, shifting to her left.

  Kyra knew she wasn't going to make it. She was going to glance off a blank section of the hull and drift away into space.

  Scrabbling, she grabbed her water bottle from her belt, ripped it free and threw it out into space with suit-boosted power. The bottle shot away from her, and she arced in the other direction. It was going to be close.

  The handhold neared. Kyra grabbed for it, catching it with her fingertips and pulling herself to the hull. With her heart in her throat, she wrapped her arms around the bar. "Let's not do that again."

  The soft-coupling airlock was smaller than the one in the barracks. She barely fit inside it with her suit. Pulling herself in, she slammed the outer door and pressed the cycle button.

  The airlock flashed red, refusing to cycle.

  "What the fuck is wrong with you, you hunk of plastic shit?" Kyra slapped the panel with her hand.

  The airlock flickered green and cycled, sending air into the compartment.

  "Yeah, that's what I thought," Kyra said. She pushed the inner door open and moved into the soft coupling.

  Kyra struggled along the plastic corridor, back towards Delta Wing. Her feet sank into the flexible surface. It had been designed for zero gravity movement, with plastic rungs extending from every side. After a few exhausting minutes, Kyra reached the airlock for Delta Wing and looked through the small window.

  She could see the man from the barracks at the far end of the corridor, her bag over his shoulder, talking to the other men. They pushed a few stragglers through an open door. Kyra accessed her ReadyNet and saw the door led to the canteen.

  She waited until they all went in, out of sight, and then opened the heavy door to the corridor. She padded to the first shop nearby and slipped inside.

  Racks of dresses and jewellery filled the shop. Nothing she could use. She padded out again and around to the next shop. Inside this store, lurid pink and purple displays contained an assortment of sex toys. Kyra ignored the luminescent vibrators and cling suits, heading for the S&M section near the back.

  She scanned the collection of spiked collars and zipped masks, but nothing seemed useful. All of the handcuffs had quick-release catches. They were designed for play, not serious use.

  "Has no-one ever wanted to get a little rough around here?" Kyra grumbled, walking for the door. She checked the corridor and stepped out.

  Alarms blared all around her.

  Kyra spun, searching for the source of the disturbance. She looked down and spotted a small bot clinging to the leg of her suit. The bot was knee-high and had an enormous phallus jutting from its groin. It humped her leg enthusiastically, but the multiple layers and vacuum-proof armour kept her from feeling anything.

  Kyra backed into the shop, and the alarms stopped. She ripped the bot from her leg and threw it into a rack of butt plugs, which scattered across the floor like bowling pins with daddy issues. Peeking out, she saw two men emerge from the canteen.

  "Ray, go check that out," said one.

  The other glanced at the ammo counter on his gun and strode towards the store.

  Kyra looked around the shop, searching for somewhere to hide. The only spot was the changing room at the back. She dashed to it and got inside, closing the swing-door behind her. It was little more than a closet. A few PVC outfits were hanging from the hooks on the walls.

  "Come on out," the man — Ray — called from the front of the store. "Don't be afraid. The guns are for your own protection. There's been an emergency, and we need to evacuate everyone."

  Kyra checked her ReadyNet. The escape pods were in the docking areas, not the canteen.

  "We won't hurt you. Come on out," Ray said, moving closer.

  Kyra planted her left boot against the back wall of the changing room, crouching down, ready.

  "If you don't come out, I have to shoot," Ray said from just outside the swing-door.

  Kyra launched herself through it, fists out in front of her. She slammed into Ray's stomach, driving the wind from his lungs.

  He stumbled backwards against a shelf of dildos. The dildos wobbled back and forth in disapproval.

  Ray brought his gun up, trying to aim.

  Kyra grabbed it and threw it aside, her suit's power ripping it from his futile grasp. She pulled Ray up by his cheap leather jacket and flung him headfirst across the store.

  He slammed into a display of cling-suits. The arms of the suits reached out to stroke his face.

  "Help!" Ray called, scrambling to his feet. He searched around him and found a novelty whip. Rolling it out, he cracked it at Kyra's face. It pinged harmlessly against her faceplate.

  She caught it with her right hand, yanking Ray so hard he flew through the air. Kyra's arm lashed out, clotheslining him as he rocketed past.

  He st
ruggled to rise.

  Kyra grabbed Ray's head and somersaulted over him, wrenching down hard. There was a loud crack and Ray went limp.

  "That was a snap," Kyra said.

  She heard boots out in the corridor, running for the shop. Kyra bolted for the door and dashed across to the barracks.

  "Hey, who are you?" someone called.

  Kyra ignored him, sprinting for the airlock. She could hear footsteps close behind her.

  "Stop now or we shoot!" someone shouted.

  Kyra reached the inner door, opening it and pushing inside. She yanked it closed and pressed the button. The airlock began to cycle.

  Kyra looked back through the window to the barracks.

  Three men with guns stood staring at her. They all brought their weapons up and fired at the window. A web of cracks spread out. The glass was thick, but not impenetrable. One of the men held his hand up, and the others stopped. He walked over to a comms unit on the wall.

  The airlock finished cycling, and Kyra pushed outside, leaving the outer door open. They wouldn't be able to follow her with the door open.

  The man at the comms unit smiled and waved at her before turning and walking away. The others trailed after him.

  Kyra looked at the airlock display. A blue lock symbol told her she couldn't get in there again. Kyra used her ReadyNet to zoom in on the soft coupling airlock and saw a blue symbol there, too. For a moment, she considered punching in the inner airlock window, but that would kill the dockworkers, and she couldn't fit through it anyway.

  She closed the outer door and activated her ReadyNet, searching the station map for any way inside. She could only find one possibility — shipping on the far side had a warehouse open to space. There might be something there to help her get inside the station.

  The problem was getting there. It was two kilometres away, and there weren't any handholds. Kyra scanned the area nearby and spotted a communications dish fifty metres above her. A plan formed, and her mind immediately screamed a thousand reasons it was crazy.