Terror on the Trailblazer

by John Thornton

“We are safely docked, and that is the important thing,” Janae said, as she observed all around the hanger bay. She was expecting some kind of response, like some automacubes rushing at the runabout, but that did not occur. The runabout was pointed in the same direction as the other shuttles in the bay, but it was the smallest of all of them. The others were a glossy light-teal color, pristine looking, and hauntingly desolate in appearance and feel. The only motions in the hanger bay were the operations of the derricks, and the message on the display. The black shuttle continued being pulled into the hanger, and additional harpoons were launched from various places in the bay. Now that they were closer, Ken noted that the harpoons had some kind of attachment mechanism which either magnetically connected to the black shuttle or stuck on it with an adhesive. For one of the two original cables disengaged, and where the harpoon—now revealed as a small rocket—had been, the surface of the black shuttle looked undamaged. The cable then wound back into its drum-like reel, and the rocket-harpoon resettled itself into its launching tube. The new cables that attached were from ceiling, floors, and walls, and some cables were slack, while others were drawing on the black shuttle. As soon as the black shuttle was inside the hanger bay, the huge external doors began to close. The derricks adjusted their positions, and the black shuttle was gently, and efficiently placed into a stall marked “#7” and the docking clamps were seen attaching to the underside of the black shuttle.

  Ken too, wondered and considered when something would rush out and surround the runabout, and he thought a great deal about this landing as compared to the FTL scout’s arrival, or when Butterfield had been the pilot of that other shuttle. This landing was better than the crash, that was a certainty.

  The display at the rear of the bay switched messages, and flashed, “Decontamination beginning.”

  Multicolored foams shot out from spigots, and the runabout was covered over in the foam. Looking out the viewport, it was a spectrum of colors, and for some reason, Janae thought of the old rainbows which she had seen in historical records from Earth prior to the Great Event.

  “Still no communications. The link to Johannes is not reading active anymore. I think we lost that,” Ken said as he adjusted the controls, seeking a signal. “It does all seem automated, even robotic.”

  “Right, robotic it is, but better impersonal and mechanical than someone coming after us with hate and terror in mind. We can sit inside here and let this play out,” Janae replied. “I have put the shuttle’s systems into stand-by mode, and will shut them down, or invigorate them as needed.”

  “How will we know when it is finished? Our ports are all covered over.”

  Before Janae could answer, sweeping liquids splattered all over the viewports and the foam was sprayed off. It floated away in large globs, condensing together into big globes which became a sort-of yellowish color. They all migrated through the hanger and collated into a grille at the far end. When the viewports were clear, they noted that the external door had closed completely, and the large display was visible again. It was flashing, “Final Decontamination Completed.”

  “Easier and faster than coming in from outside of Dome 17, and no yucky physical effects,” Ken commented. “I felt ill for days sometimes after a mission outside Dome 17.”

  “But did the Trailblazer’s decontamination actually work? That is the tricky question. Did this place get rid of that radiation, or not?”

  “Cycling of atmosphere in hanger bay. Gravity manipulation activated,” the display read in green lettering.

  “I see no reading of radiation on the shuttle’s scanning systems, and we still have our RAM suits on underneath. When the cycling finishes, I think we could step out of the shuttle, and maybe find out what part of Ida we are in. It is not Hanger 5, but it does not seem hostile, so far.”

  “And there it is,” Janae pointed with her spacesuited hand.

  “Atmosphere established. Gravity manipulation normal,” the large display flashed the message a few times and then it stayed illuminated for a few moments and faded to nothing.

  “It does not say anything about radiation, but we have the RAM suits,” Janae said and popped open the canopy.

  Ken disconnected his spacesuit from the cockpit, unstrapped himself, and climbed out, “I can run some scans with this suit, but I would feel better if the RAM suit could do a reading before we are both exposed. With the hood and goggles not in place, there is some risk when I remove my helmet. You keep in the spacesuit, and let me run the risk.”

  Janae sighed out, “Trying to be… what was the term? Chivalrous? Gallant? But you do make a point. Especially since we lack our medical kit, I suppose I could drag you all the way back to some primitive medical clinic, or those angakoks in the Isle of Pines, right?” she was half-serious, but also her words contained some undertones of concern. She stepped down from the runabout. From her vantage point, on the deck, the two larger shuttles blocked much of the view, but the black shuttle was still visible as she looked between the other shuttles. She was wondering what had happened there, and if that craft had brought radiation in with it. Back in Dome 17, no equipment of any kind ever came from outside and back into the dome. Only people did that, and only after rigorous decontamination. Of course, information was sent back from data sticks and such, but the physical parts of all the equipment were destroyed to prevent contaminating the dome.

  “Janae? Janae? You have a faraway look, even as I see you though the bubble helmet. Is something wrong?”

  “Oh, no, I suppose not. Well, no worse than the terrors we have already faced. I was just thinking… never mind. Go ahead, and get a reading with the RAM suit just to make sure, but I think…”

  “Thanks!” Ken responded quickly and unlatched the seals on the bubble helmet. He hung it on a stud on his spacesuit and with his hands pulled the hood and goggles of his RAM suit on. Checking the readings, the hanger bay was clear of excessive radiation, and yet, Ken checked it twice more before he pulled the hood down, and slid the goggles back into storage. He spoke to Janae, but she shrugged her shoulders, and tapped at her helmet.

  Ken touched his comlink, and then spoke again, “Sorry, I forgot. All the readings are normal, so we can get out of these spacesuits.”

  Janae pulled her own helmet off, and took a breath of the hanger bay’s air. There was a slight aroma, but not unpleasant, and far less pungent than what she had smelled in various other places on the Trailblazer. “So, now, we find out where we are, and how to get back to Hanger 5.”

  “Oh, I can show you that,” a voice came from behind them.

  Chills ran up Ken’s spine, and Janae’s anger raged.

  “Turn around slowly. Keep your hands out to the sides. I can slice through those fancy new suits easily.”

  Ken and Janae kept their arms outstretched and gradually turned about. Ken considered reaching for his revenger, but knew it would take a moment to pull it from the pouch, and he had no doubt in his mind that moment would be a fatal mistake.

  “Oh, yes. My dearest, pretty, Ken. Along with Janae. We have had quite the little adventure, have we not? Oh, yes we have.”

  Ken and Janae looked toward the rear of the runabout, and the person who was standing there in a green spacesuit. Her energy weapon was pointed directly at them.

  “Butterfield!” they said in unison.

  8

  Getting to Homebase

  Butterfield stood there, aiming her energy weapon at them both. She was clad in a green spacesuit, with its bubble helmet resting on the deck near her feet. Her face was bare, without the customary red stripe of cosmetics that Ken and Jane both expected. Ken’s first thought was that she was strikingly beautiful, but then his eyes dropped to the energy weapon, and he reconsidered.

  “How?” Janae spewed out.

  “Because I am smarter than either of you, or even both of you combined,” Butterfield replied with a sneer. “My security automacube took olfactory readings on you both, and then you were dusted with tracking
compounds. Those fancy suits of yours do a fine job of stopping radiation, but do nothing about gado-beryithoic hybrids. Dusting you with a bit of that was easy while you were restrained. Oh, do not look hurt, my pretty man, my compounds do not harm people, not like tant radiation, but they do allow me to track whoever I want with my multiceiver. The neutrino matrix tracking is very good.”

  “You followed us through that Christianopolis biome?” Janae asked, genuinely surprised, angered, and puzzled all at once. “Why?”

  “Oh, my motives are my own, and will be revealed in due time. Right, my pretty man,” she leered at Ken. “The chase is part of the merry fun, right, honey?”

  “Nothing fun about killing people,” Ken snapped back.

  “Tants are not people, they are rubbish. As for those religious fools back in Christianopolis, well, they may pray to some Sacrificed One, but they know nothing about security and tactics. I never had to leave the shell, but just monitored where you were going and used my countermand to make their own systems do my bidding.”

  “Countermand?” Janae asked, dripping with sarcasm. “Is that the suit you are wearing, or some confederate, like your Benefactor? I heard how well Diego worked out as a friend. Did you un-paint your face in mourning?”

  “Oh, Diego is being dealt with, yes he is. Trust me on that.” She stared at Ken, “I did have to blend in with the primitives, and so now you are seeing me naked.” Her face actually blushed, right up to her russet colored eyes. Her brown hair was pulled back into a single ponytail, and she looked much younger as she blushed. But it faded away quickly. “I knew you would see me this way, but not under these circumstances, and more on my own terms. Alas, some fantasies must be put aside.”

  “You are hardly naked, covered over by that spacesuit. Your face is lovely, and…” Ken stammered. “… please let Janae go free, and I will go with you… willingly.”

  Butterfield’s laugh echoed across the hanger bay. She bent over from the hilarity, but never lost the aim of her energy weapon, “Oh, that is rich, my pretty man. You trying to charm me? Ha-ha! You actually think you have a choice? Well, I did not ride in some cramped cargo compartment, in this stale spacesuit, listening in on your bizarre flights of ideas, just to come out and negotiate! Not at all. Oh, such silliness, Ken, cute, built, but not very smart. Now, we will be leaving and going to that FTL scout of yours. There are some things I need to find out. Turn around and walk away. If either of you runs, be aware, I can burn off your legs, and you will still be useful for what I need. I know I can hit both of you before you get three meters away.”

  Ken considered rushing her, and allowing Janae an opportunity to escape, but he restrained himself. He had seen Butterfield in combat, and knew she was not frivolously boasting. She was deadly accurate with her weapon, and Ken was unsure how much armor the spacesuits would have against a blast from her weapon.

  At the same time, Janae was considering drawing out her own revenger and shooting Butterfield in the face, but she doubted she could draw it quickly enough to make the shot, before Butterfield would fire. She also calculated that if Butterfield could actually lead them to the FTL scout, there might be a better chance for reprisals, at a later time. Therefore, she too restrained her impulse to act.

  “Neither of you are moving, and I truly hate to repeat myself. Now, shall I burn off Janae’s arm, to prove my point, or shall I just char one of pretty Ken’s feet? Feet and hands are not essential, and I have this set to where it will cauterize whatever flesh it eats through. It might be a tad messy, what with melting through the spacesuit and all. What is a bit more pain but a better motivator?”

  Ken turned around, not knowing what Butterfield would do. The look in her eyes was deadly serious. Janae too turned about.

  “Finally, you people from Earth must learn to quickly obey commands, yes you need to learn that lesson for sure. The main exit from hanger bays like this are back by the observation deck. Now, slowly walk around this shuttle and head that way.”

  “Your told us many times you thought we were primitives, being manipulated and controlled by someone else,” Janae stated. “What changed your mind?”

  “My mind, is for me to know, and for you to fear,” Butterfield replied.

  As they walked around the custom runabout shuttle, and got to where they could see the light-teal colored shuttles, and the rest of the hanger bay, Butterfield gasped. Janae thought they were about to be executed, and Ken did twist about, but when he saw Butterfield’s face, he was stunned. She was in shock, and her lips were trembling.

  “No, no!” Butterfield cried out and pushed past Ken and Janae. “No, it cannot be! No!” She sprinted between the teal colored shuttles, and raced over to the dull black shuttle which was sitting where the grappling lines had landed it. “Oh, no, please, no!”

  Janae pulled her revenger out, and Ken was shortly behind her with his own out. Both were shocked by the tones and lost confidence oozing from Butterfield’s words and mannerism.

  She was clambering up the side of the large black shuttle. “It must be a mistake, it cannot be.” She slid down, losing her footing a bit, but then activated something in her boots and was able to walk along the slick wing surface of the shuttle, and she scrambled inside through the gaping hole in the side.

  “Ken, this ends now,” Janae said as she aimed the revenger right at Butterfield. It was set on maximum power.

  Ken quickly grabbed her spacesuited arm and lifted it up. Janae did not fire the revenger, relaxing her grip on the trigger, and glaring at Ken. “What are you doing? She tried to kill us! A murderer. She is a human version of a bruin.”

  “She is a human, yes,” Ken said, “a human who knows how to get us to Kimberly.”

  “We will find the scout ourselves. She is a crazed animal!”

  “Janae, she is a human. We are not her prisoners. We are armed. There are two of us, and she just went into that shuttle. We take her captive, and she leads us to the scout,” Ken stared back at Janae.

  Wailing and weeping came from inside the black shuttle.

  “If we do take her captive,” Janae said between clenched teeth, “we disarm her first. If we cannot do that, we kill her. No more chasing us around, and no more threats. Understand?”

  “Yes. I am with you in this,” Ken affirmed, nodded, and aimed his revenger.

  They sidled up to the black shuttle. As they got closer, the damage was more evident. The side where the gaping exit damage was riddled with small holes as well as the large ripped open one. Janae looked at Ken, and he nodded again. She stepped up onto the wing of the shuttle, and her boots connected and allowed her to grip. She was thankful for the abilities built into the enhanced spacesuit, and wondered about the differences between the brown suit she wore, and the apparently less sophisticated green one worn by Butterfield, then she shook her head and pushed those contemplative thoughts aside, telling herself now was not the time.

  The weeping was non-stop, and as Janae got closer to the gaping hole, she could hear some sobbed words between the tears.

  “Daddy?” Butterfield wept out. “Daddy, why? Why?”

  Janae peered inside. Butterfield had a lamp shining down from the shoulder of her spacesuit. The light lit up another spacesuit which was strapped into the pilot’s seat. It too was green and was similar to what Butterfield was wearing. On the back was the stenciled word, “Froncek” in white lettering. Janae was unsure what that meant. The light reflected off a coating of pink residue which led from the front of the pilot’s spacesuit, starting under the restraining straps, leading in a fan shape all the way across the suit, wall, ceiling, and over to the gaping hole in the side of the shuttle.

  Butterfield was kneeling next to the pilot, her head down, weeping, wailing, and crying uncontrollably, inconsolably. The only audible words were, “Daddy?” and “why?” which she repeated at intervals between gasps and sobs.

  Jane rushed forward, revenger aimed at Butterfield, as she looked for the energy weapon. It w
as sitting on a nearby seat, as if tossed there without care. Janae picked it up, switched it off, and slid it into the same pouch inside the neck of her spacesuit.

  Ken’s voice came from behind Janae, “Butterfield, get up.”

  The weeping and sobbing continued unabated. The persistent agony in the tears was heart wrenching, and Ken felt pity rising in his heart.

  “Ken said get up!” Janae barked out. “Get up now!”

  Butterfield did not respond, and the weeping just kept on. Its angst filled the ruined cabin, and echoed off the walls which were still intact. Janae stepped forward. She prodded Butterfield in the back of the head with her revenger’s muzzle. “I said get up.”

  “Or…” sobbed Butterfield, “what?” Her body was rocking back and forth as she wept. “Daddy!”

  Janae wrestled with just shooting Butterfield and leaving, or grabbing her and yanking her up. She knew Butterfield’s knowledge was important, but she had been a terror to them, and she was extremely dangerous as well.