Terror on the Trailblazer
Book 3 of the Colony Ship Trailblazer
John Thornton
Copyright © 2017 Automacube Enterprises
All rights reserved.
ISBN-13: 978-1977636669
ISBN-10: 1977636667
DEDICATION
This book is dedicated to my wife and my wonderful daughters. That is not to exclude my sons-in-law, but my daughters have heard me tell stories since they were little babies, and now that they are all grown, I am happy I have the memories of reading books, telling jokes, and spinning tales. All the while, my precious wife was there keeping me as grounded in reality as possible. Also, for my friends from back in the 1970s and 1980s when we did sci-fi table-top gaming. That inspired many of my stories and adventures. My thanks to all of you!
This is a work of fiction, obviously. If you enjoy the Colony Ship Trailblazer series, check out the other books which are set in John Thornton’s Colony Ship Universe. The completed ten-volume Colony Ship Eschaton, or the completed eight-volume Colony Ship Vanguard, or the completed eight-volume Colony Ship Conestoga, or the stand-alone book Battle on the Marathon.
If you like audio books, please check out audible! Many of John Thornton’s books are available in audio versions done by a plethora of fine, professional narrators.
If you are a movie producer, or television producer, please contact John Thornton and discuss how to get these books made into blockbuster movies or a successful television series. Seriously!
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Cover art by Dedefox
Contents
New Arrival
Scorned Fury
Rampant Thinking
Burned Bridges
Betrayal
Ascetics?
Space Outside
Getting to Homebase
Even the Scorned
Solo Mission to Hanger 5
Alone
1
New Arrival
The indicator lights flashed in red, orange, and yellow, on the top of the gravity conduit’s truncated pyramid-shaped delivery pedestal. Those colors reflected off the permalloy walls and ceiling of the chamber in which the pedestal was located. That mixture of light made for shadows which danced around the various pipes, ducts, wiring, and utilities.
Someone rushed over and checked to confirm that, yet again, something was being shipped through the gravity conduit system. The pedestal—more like a platform in that person’s mind—was about waist-high and was fully powered. Having full power was a rare state for machines in that section of the Colony Ship Trailblazer, yet the gravity conduit was fully energized. Soon, even more lights began blinking, shifting to differing colors and patterns in their flashing cadences.
The person spoke out loud the thoughts which came to mind, “Yes, yet again, a delivery is arriving, and me alone to monitor it.” A button was pressed. “Begin audio and visual log recording. Just what manner of material is being sent here, this time? Will the habitat dwellers ever cease disposing of their unwanted junk to us here?”
Like the circulatory system of some vast creature, the gravity conduit network of the Colony Ship Trailblazer connected the eight huge cylindrical biological habitats to the even longer—yet much thinner—core of the spaceship. While many systems had once operated in various interconnected fashions, after the Encounter, only the gravity conduit was still able to consistently link and couple each section of the Trailblazer together. All parts of the Trailblazer had suffered from massive systems failures which prohibited any other single system from servicing all the diverse parts of the ship, and indeed, the gravity conduit system had not been totally spared of damage. Yet, unlike most other systems, the redundancies in the gravity conduits had not failed completely, nor did the tertiary backups utterly collapse during the Encounter. By some fluke, the gravity conduit system was less damaged than the others.
“The thing is roughly three and one-half kilograms,” the person spoke as the distant monitors reported on what was being carried through the gravity conduit. “A smaller load than most.”
The lights flashed, and the colors shifted, and whatever it was, kept moving. It moved through twists and turns, compelled through the zero-gravity of the conduit, heading for the platform. For the gravity conduit was marginally functional, howbeit, damaged, beaten, and battered. Therefore, the person watched as something was moving from a distant place in the Trailblazer, and into the more central parts. That person stood gawking at the flashing lights, reviewing the basic readouts, and pondering what was occurring.
“Yes, it will come to this specific locale,” the person stated. “I must tell someone that something is coming here.”
The person contemplated the randomness of it wall. That something, anything, would arrive at that specific platform, was not so extremely rare, only, unusual, and unexpected. Past experiences were mixed on whether it would be good or bad.
With a raised voice, the person called out, “Would you please come here? Something is happening!”
The lights flashed, and now were more in an organized sequence of strobes. That illuminated all about the room, spilling into the hallways which stretched off parallel to the direction of the ship. Had the doors operated, they could have been shut, but not everything worked on the needle ship. The person considered why the old name had come to mind, and recalled its one hundred-to-one ratio of length to width, and so nodded agreement. Needle ship it appeared from outside, something that person had never witnessed personally. The person pondered deep thoughts. Trailblazer’s core had been originally called the needle ship, but now was referred to simply as Axis Mundi. Both the inhabitants who lived right within Axis Mundi, as well as those who were called biome dwellers—the ones who inhabited the places at the distant other end of the gravity conduit—shared one idea. They thought of Axis Mundi as some bizarre broken place and extensively damaged place. That was about the only commonly held perspective. Everything else was relative and specific to various locations. The cause of the damage was fading into obscurity in many minds, while folklore was replacing fact-finding and historical accuracy. And so, the person’s thoughts raced and danced about, while the lights flashed on someone whose widely-spaced eyes were of indeterminate color, but who also knew far more than most what the truth really was.
“You summoned me?” a voice called from the hallway. “I am coming.”
“Thank you! It is the gravity conduit!” the first person answered. Their voices were of similar pitches, tones, and timbres.
“Is it biological or mineral?”
“Not quite in range to know that yet, but, I am checking. The log is recording,” the first person replied, but could not decide what the readings were showing. Both observers knew that biological life tenaciously hung on within the Trailblazer. Sure, there was life in the biomes—they had been designed to hold life—but life also survived in the mechanical shells around those habitats, as well as on the derelict and dysfunctional sections of Axis Mundi, which were far apart and separated by various issues and reasons. “I am observing and recording.”
“You are thinking too much, probably. Babbling as well, you do that too much, too.”
The lights flashed in that remote corner of Axis Mundi—where the once remains of the mighty energy concentrator which had fed the propulsion and drive mechanisms of the Trailblazer resided in ruins. They waited for the gravity conduit’s horizonal door to dilate open and belch out whatever was being sent. Emotions ran high, but expectations were a mixed bag.
“I am thinking about what it might be?”
“More trash and garbage, I suppose, but I can find out more. Move aside,” the second person stated with a snort of d
isgust. “Just who is dumping garbage today? Cockaigne, Pines, Ida, Shangri-Zerzura, Aztlan, Christianopolis, Luditestan, or Kosutava?” Reaching out with an experienced, six-fingered hand, a series of commands were entered into the small display screen on the top of the platform. More detailed readouts were taken. Measurements were established. Information was gathered.
“Helen-Yirmi? What is arriving in the frustum?” the first person asked.
“The frustum? Really, frustum?” the second person—Helen-Yirmi—replied with derision and shake of the head. “Anaya-Joaquin? Just who are you trying to impress with your techno-babble?”
“It is not about impressing anyone. I am well aware that things like that matter little to you. You are ever the utilitarian, and that is fine. Even your names for the biomes are the common ones, not the official ones. However, even though you do not aspire to follow the Outer Limits friends,” Anaya-Joaquin replied, “I do. Fortunately, we are not all so excessively lackadaisical. The friends call these depots frustums from the geometrical idea of the portion of a cone or pyramid which remains after its upper part has been cut off by a plane which is parallel to its base.”
Helen-Yirmi snorted again, “Foolish talk. Frustums, oh, yes a fancy name for a cut off pedestal? Ha! Just cut off brain more likely! Fancy words, and farcical nonsense is all that is. You think too much, and do too little. It is not lazy to be prudent and realistic. I can tell you, something is coming through here, and without me, you would not know from wince it came. Am I right? You called me here, right?”
“Yes, I was alone…”
“Right, so shall I leave? Would you like that? Nor would you know if it was safe to allow it passage from the biome to Axis Mundi? Should I halt it in the connecting place? Dump it to space? Well? What say you? Or do you aspire to be in my role as well? You want to make these decisions? Do you?”
“No, well, I mean, yes. Wait! No, forget that,” Anaya-Joaquin muttered in befuddlement. “What I mean to say is that you are correct. You have been here far longer than I have,” Anaya-Joaquin affirmed. “I defer to your obvious experience in these things. I only gathered its approximate weight, and nothing much more. You are correct.” Sensing that saying anything more would be worse than useless Anaya-Joaquin became silent. Thus, the verbal exchange ended, for the time being.
The two watched as the lights on the gravity conduit flashed and strobed, relaying information that Helen-Yirmi was analyzing while interacting with the controls and displays. Both people knew that sometimes bad things had happened at the opening of gravity conduits. Like much on the Trailblazer, accidents were an accepted fact of life. However, being at the opening of a gravity conduit, especially when the items being shipped had been properly assessed was not as dangerous as taking a journey into a biome, not by far. Nonetheless, both of them recollected what they knew of life. They knew of other people who had been maimed or even killed when a gravity conduit’s door dilated open. In comparison, they also knew of the much more frequent cases of others who had gone seeking supplies in the biomes and had never returned, some having died, and others just disappearing. Unsubstantiated rumors told by the injured who came back wounded, reporting that people had been hauled away to never be heard from again. Scary tales were told of their fates, but those who had actually been in the biomes and returned seldom spoke openly about the lost ones. Neither Helen-Yirmi, nor Anaya-Joaquin, had ever been in a biome as an adult, and neither remembered their infancies.
“Is it a…?” Anaya-Joaquin did not finish the question.
Focusing their widely-spaced eyes on the gravity conduit’s lights, they noted that the colors were changing to more greens and blues, than reds, or oranges.
“I wonder…” Helen-Yirmi adjusted the controls a bit more and said, “Tracking shows it has left Ida’s territory. Yes, Ida, those weirdos. Very strange! Some norm clinic—officially 14CFJ7—in the Isle of Pine’s shell just refused to allow it to progress there. The clinic blocked all conduits to their location, so it is coming here.”
“Well, that is not a surprise, is it? I think, it would have to pass through a swath of Axis Mundi and then return up another constituent joint to get to Medical Clinic 14CFJ7,” Anaya-Joaquin replied. “Maybe the cargo is just remedial waste or materials like that. Or something they do not want to ever leave Axis Mundi once it gets here? That is possible, right?”
“True, but why would a clinic refuse a delivery, if this is a… unless this is a threat?” Helen-Yirmi snarled back. “Recalibrating and reassessing. Hum… There are no negative readings thus far. It is in an Axis Mundi section now, moving steadily along. Yes, it will be here shortly.”
“Do you know what it is?”
“Ha!” Helen-Yirmi sneered, “I know what it is not. It is not raw materials. It is not sewage. It is not inorganic. Temperature is a tad under thirty-seven degrees, and consistent. Hence, it is not losing its warmth as it passes along.”
Anaya-Joaquin gently brushed some unkempt dark hair back, then said, “The gravity conduit capsule is well insulated, but that item must be generating its own heat, or the detectors would register the loss, right?”
“I suppose that is correct,” Helen-Yirmi answered, “and that leads me to believe this is another one of those kinds of deliveries.”
“I thought of that right away…” Nodding, Anaya-Joaquin, spoke, “If so…” but then ran a tongue over irregular, tiny teeth, paused, and pondered, then a moment later added, “Well, I will get the stabilizer and the other needed equipment. This is not a job for only one person.”
“Few things can be done alone. Yes, you do that, and not so much thinking! I will wait until we actually see this organic thing before I inform Siiri-Peter. No sense in stirring up mischief unnecessarily.”
“Well, since it came from the habitats, therefore, now they owe us more food. How are we to provide for another? There is little enough for us on Axis Mundi. Roaches do not grow in permalloy,” Anaya-Joaquin intoned a common idiom while walking away.
“Roaches do not think and blather, either. Will you be the one to collect that food?” Helen-Yirmi snapped back. “This might be a bomb which is masquerading as a delivery. Or one of those remains-sets with a steaming pile inside it.”
“Remains-sets? One of our friend’s bodies rigged with a small heat generator to confuse our readings? Surely, those tales are just legends and myths,” Anaya-Joaquin was aghast.
“This could not be a full adult body, that is true, but perhaps a brain, or other body part sent back as a message. Ida would do that, right? A graphic lesson in the mercies of the Benefactor,” Helen-Yirmi’s voice dropped to a mere whisper, “It has happened before.”
“No. It is not true, is it? An explosive device set inside body parts? Lethal ruse? Just to terrorize us? No. Those tales are just myth?”
“All legends and myths have a kernel of truth, at their core.” This time the snort was not as pronounced. “Most do, anyway. I cannot speak for absolutely all myths or folklore.”
Anaya-Joaquin tried to sound jovial, but emotions could not be expressed very well. “Anecdotes are just an account regarded as unreliable, hearsay, or confabulation. While reading, I came across ancient reports, from decades before the ship’s launch of someone named Bryant Johnson, and another named John Titor who both claimed to come from the future. It was nonsense. Stories of time travelers.”
“You think too much, and babble even more, but, one hears stories of your Outer Limits friends, the ones you are trying to impress by your reading, study, and contemplation. Strange, and bizarre stories,” Helen-Yirmi grunted. “Troubling tales.”
Still trying to be light-hearted, Anaya-Joaquin replied while pulling out a rather large case which was bright orange in color, “Oh, well, you mean you do not believe that recently some humans came from Earth in some super-fast ship—breaking all kinds of the laws of physics—and then disappeared somewhere into the labyrinths of the Trailblazer?” Bringing the orange case back to the pedestal, it was
set to the side, opened, and unpacked. “You heard that fable, did you not?”
“I heard. As I said, all legends and myths have a kernel of truth at their core. Sometimes the kernel is large and gets up and walks away on its own,” Helen-Yirmi responded.
“That account… it is a fable?”
Now the snorts were long and fast. “Focus. Stop thinking and focus. The delivery is about to arrive. All the way from Ida, and refused by a clinic. The shame of it all. No more time for idle chatter.”
“Wait, you just said…”
Helen-Yirmi barked out, “I said no more time for chatter. It is here!”
The lights on the pedestal all changed and were glowing a steady amber color. Both people took an involuntary step backward as the top of the gravity conduit dilated open. The inside was dark, but something was rising up out of that darkness. It became visible slowly, but the noises rose quickly.
“It is…”
“Yes, it is.”
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