Creation

by Greg Chase

  The corner of the information pad displayed, in small numbers, 2:35 a.m.

  Studying the transparent screen for the fifth straight day, Sam began to see his error in taking the job, even if it did get him off Earth. The complexity of Leviathan’s operating system, the unknown military override software, and the lack of information about the computer’s problem gave him a headache. Too much curiosity coupled with just enough knowledge made him the perfect mark. Perhaps his father had been right all along. He really didn’t know what he was getting into. But if getting him out to the edge of the solar system had been a con, what was the payoff? Sam shook his head in an attempt to quiet his father’s imagined condemnations.

  I have to focus on what I know. What makes me qualified?

  As a junior technician for SpaceBuild, he’d dealt with spaceship operating systems on a daily basis. Entering preexisting programs into the maze of electronic impulses that made up the machine, however, didn’t inspire confidence. How exactly the long, perfectly smooth cylinder that was the heart of Leviathan’s central computer managed to create and sustain the operating system needed to maintain life in space, he had no idea.

  The holographic image of the placement program had assured him he possessed all the necessary skills to repair Leviathan’s central brain. But looking over the ship’s history, from original schematics to the military’s attempt at a system override, one thing became abundantly clear: the hologram lied.

  I still have time. Study. Fill this empty brain with everything in this information pad. The answer on how to fix this hopelessly complex computer must be in there somewhere.

  Sam tapped a timeline at the top of the information pad. For twenty-eight years, Leviathan had shuttled pods from Earth to Europa and acted as a space outpost for the colonists of the newly terraformed moon. Leviathan’s success hadn’t gone unnoticed. Among the pile of documents, Sam found information that had been kept from the people of Earth. Not long after the first colonists established the early outposts, tensions erupted on the Moons of Jupiter. There were too many new societies with too much money and not enough solar energy. Or at least not enough for their growing demand.

  Earth’s military had taken over Leviathan as part of an attempt to develop a makeshift fleet of ships capable of keeping the peace. At twenty-eight years of age, the ship would still be in her prime, and her size made her ideal as a mobile spaceport for the small, heavily armed peacekeeping force. Specifics of what the military had done to the operating system, what kind of action she’d seen, and where the ship had ended up were redacted from the document.

  The timeline on the info pad listed a thirty-five-year period of “whereabouts unknown” for Leviathan once the military had finished with her. Information on where she’d been found, who had purchased her, and what she’d been used for over the last twenty years didn’t provide any useful answers. Whoever was stranded out in the old ship hadn’t bothered with paperwork. But then, old derelicts seldom carried documentation. A contract to terraform the minor planet Chariklo had been linked to the timeline.

  The final entry was a current flyer listing abandoned spaceships available for purchase in the Kuiper Belt. A dark, semifocused picture of the grand ship sitting among a dozen other smaller ships accompanied the flyer. Surprisingly little information regarding her condition, or really even proof that it was the Leviathan, accompanied the flyer. Pirates weren’t picky when it came to buying spaceships. And detailing the baggage that came with the ship wouldn’t help in its sale—especially if that baggage included people.

  The Kuiper Belt seemed a fitting end to a star freighter that had gotten no recognition. The biggest chunk of rock and ice that made up the belt had once been considered a planet but had been stripped of that title. Energy that far from the sun would be priceless. The solar transfer array barely made it out that far. Terraforming might be possible, though Sam couldn’t imagine who would think that would be a good idea. He was heading to the outskirts of the solar system to fix a hundred-year-old computer that he didn’t understand.

  Sam couldn’t remember a single ship coming back from that far out, which only added to the mystery. He searched back through the information packet, wondering how they intended to get him home after this little adventure. Even assuming he could get the ship thinking and feeling again, the energy required to get her back to the inner planets would be massive.

  Lud shook Sam out of his contemplations then pointed at the small window. “Look out there. That little pebble is Deimos.”

  Pebble all too aptly described the hurtling rock surrounded by spacecraft of various sizes and configurations, all vying for a place to dock. Sam closed his eyes and leaned away from the window, certain a crash was imminent in all the chaos.

  Lud chuckled. “A week in space with nothing within a million miles will do that to your eyes. Don’t look so panicked. We won’t even be stepping foot on that rock. The big rotating docking bay off to the left of Deimos is where we’re headed.”

  The gloom that had clouded Sam’s thoughts lifted as he set foot on the floating transfer station. Optimism floated in the air as if pumped from the recirculation system. But then, breathing in anything other than the poorly scrubbed stench of his fellow travelers, as he had done for the last week, couldn’t help but brighten his mood.

  Lud attempted to restrain his voice to interior use, but its increased volume over what he’d used in the spaceship added to Sam’s sense of ease. “We want to avoid the big transports. Keep your eyes out for a small, disreputable docking bay. Something that looks like you’ll catch some strange space flu just by walking in the gate.”

  Free of conventional gravity, the walkway bent up behind them and arched up as they moved forward. In a flash of insight, Sam understood the futility of a hamster wheel, which kept the animal perpetually at the bottom. Lights guided the way, branching off to the side as a spoke of the monster wheel came into view overhead. His mind struggled with the sight of people turning to walk up what he’d considered rounded walls then walking away over his head down the shaft toward the center of the station.

  Even more confusing were the holes in the floor. Instead of falling in, people tilted down the arched ramps toward the waiting transport ships.

  Lud’s arm clamped around Sam’s waist as his legs buckled from vertigo. “You get used to it. Best if you don’t eat anything, though.”

  Half of the rotating spaceport, the half they’d landed on, was filled with commercial liners headed to the Moons of Jupiter or Saturn. But as the large bays full of well-appointed craft gave way to smaller regional ones, Sam could make out, around the next radial arm, travelers who hugged their dusty, worn space attire tight to their bodies. No longer well lit, the bays held many dark corners filled with people more likely to offer an illegal transaction than transport.

  Lud pulled Sam by the arm down to one of the smaller loading bays. “We may be in luck. Wait here a moment.”

  Sam had trouble seeing anything lucky about where they were headed. Lud casually leaned against a wall, pulling his long, thick space jacket up to his chin.

  It took a minute or two for someone to stop near Lud and mimic his stance. Sam couldn’t make out the muffled tones of the conversation. The oddity of Lud’s quiet voice made the hairs on the back of Sam’s neck stand on end.

  Lud pulled a wad of Earth banknotes from his pocket. The stranger never lowered the hood of his black cloak, but his nod was unmistakable.

  Questions flooded Sam’s mind, but a quiet look from his normally boisterous companion was enough of a clue for the younger man to remain silent and inconspicuous.

  As they left the rotating spaceport, the artificial gravity let go of its hold. Sam floated behind Lud down the narrow central corridor of the ship. Small compartments, meant for no more than two people, lined the walls. Lud made a sharp turn into one of them, pulling Sam along with him. The oddity of floating weightless made securing the harness around his body a challenge, but following Lud�
��s example, Sam strapped himself to the contoured chair.

  Lud let out a deep breath as he secured the door to the cabin. “It’s relatively private in here, but watch what you say. The captain is an associate of mine. His home base is a little rock called Chiron. If there’s a pirate base in the solar system, it’d be Chiron. From there, we should be able to secure transport to the space junkyard of the Kuiper Belt.”

  The big man’s smile calmed Sam’s frayed nerves. “Get some rest, and finish reading up on Leviathan. Oh, and don’t trust anyone out here.”

  Sam’s gaze moved on to the pointless effort of deciphering what little information the military had declassified regarding their attempted override. His mind, however, played back the strange set of events that represented his life.

  People always talked as though there were choices in life. There were no choices. Not really. All the successful businesses, good jobs, and qualified employees had moved off Earth to planets where the need and pay were the greatest, leaving behind once-great companies, like SpaceBuild, who hired mediocre junior technicians like Sam. Not that he listed junior technician as his occupation on his résumé. Or the fact that he had been fired. But then, digging for the truth behind the résumé was the job of the placement agency. Apparently, even computer-generated placement programs were the bottom of the barrel on Earth. With food, living arrangements, and pay, at least he’d be taken care of for as long as he could con Xavier—the person who’d signed the job-offer letter—into believing Sam knew what he was doing.

  His eyes glazed over as they traced the sentences on the screen without his brain recording the words. Why couldn’t they develop a computer screen to zap the information into my brain?

  The dimly lit small compartment, the lack of gravity, and no reference to the passing of time created what the information packet had referred to as space-delirium. The recommended regularly spaced meals proved hard for Sam to digest. His stomach needed some frame of reference regarding which way to send the food. Even focusing on Lud made him queasy. How could such a hulk of human flesh endure this with apparent ease? Sam did his best to sleep as much as possible.

  The harness straps bit into Sam’s arms and legs as the ship jerked hard under his back. His body sagging against the side of the chair was his first clue of gravity, indicating they’d arrived. He immediately reached for his restraints, ready to be free of his seat.

  Lud pulled at his own straps. “That’ll be our landing. Best if we sneak out early.”

  The pitch-black main corridor of the ship made Sam’s eyes ache for the dim light of their compartment. Lud’s hand pulled hard at the shoulder of Sam’s jacket just as he bumped into an unseen fellow passenger. As they found their way out the final hatch of the ship, Sam made out dark figures also leaving the ship to merge with the local population.

  Lud’s hand remained at Sam’s shoulder. “Try not to walk so hard. Low gravity, remember. Continue to walk like you’re on Earth, and I’ll have to call out a rescue team to pick you out of some low-grav tree.”

  Sam scanned the vegetation to catch Lud’s meaning. Trees looked more like unsupported vines, growing so tall he thought he could identify with the ants of Earth. A spaceship lifting from the ground caused the vines to sway, reinforcing the image of people as some kind of insect life on this unknown planet.

  Lud continued to pull him along. The big man’s hands grasped vine-trees and hurtled the pair of them forward. Sam’s feet only hit the ground at odd intervals.

  He’d lost track of how long they’d been inside man-made enclosures, breathing filtered air. Being outside, even on a foreign planet, made him giddy. There was nothing overhead—no ceiling, no strange wall walkways, only space. The air was filled with the scents of plants, dirt and water vapor—natural air, not the flinty stale air filled with too much human stench. The muscles around his ears relaxed as they no longer strained for any hint of a human voice or attempted to filter out the drone of ship engines. Even his stomach approved. For the first time on the trip, he experienced hunger.

  They slowed as they exited the low-gravity jungle. Sam assumed what lay before them must be a village. But he couldn’t imagine how people lived in the twisted scraps of metal, vines, and wood.

  Lud pointed to one of the better-lit buildings. “That’ll be the local bar. Most business is conducted in bars. But don’t do any more talking than is necessary. The general attitude is, keep to yourself.”

  The knife Lud pulled from his jacket shocked Sam back to the reality of their situation. This was a pirate outpost, not some nature hike. Lud thrust the black handle into his hand. “You shouldn’t need to use it. Just having it on you will be deterrent enough for the casual thief. Anyone who pulls one on you will know what they’re doing. There’s not a lot of bluffing when it comes to violence out here.”

  The blade stretched from Sam’s fingers to halfway up his forearm. Without trying to look too conspicuous, he found a place in his jacket to stash the weapon. As they entered the village, he saw similar bulges in the clothing of most of the people on the street.

  If people in the bar took notice of their entrance, they did so without looking up from their drinks. With a roof overhead, and humanity again pressing in on him, Sam wondered if he wasn’t better off out in the wild, low-gravity jungle. If anyone meant him harm in town, he’d be the last to notice.

  Lud scanned the patrons, barely turning his head, then chose a couple of seats toward the back. “Xavier tries to send a shuttle out here every few days for supplies and to give his workers some time off. Working on a spaceship this far out can leave one feeling isolated. Or worse, for workers who clash with each other. If I don’t spot one of the crew by the end of the day, we’ll hire a spacecraft to take us out to the junkyard.”

  A waif of a girl drifted up to the table. Sam suspected she was a beggar, but Lud ordered a couple of local beers from her. Without a word, she nodded and slipped back behind the bar. “Go easy on the drinks. The effects have a tendency to sneak up on you. A typical bartender will start off with the easy stuff, but when they think you’re about to leave, they’ll pour you one meant to land you flat on your back the moment you walk out the door. The dark figures who lounge around outside are always on the lookout for the uninitiated.”

  Sam wondered how he was meant to survive out here. Lights from the overhead solar arrays outside intensified then dimmed, leaving Sam to guess the day had passed from afternoon to evening.

  He didn’t catch sight of the thin man until he swung the spare chair out from the table. Gray hair jutted out from the cowl that covered his head. Matching gray hair covered his face. “Nice to see you two made it. Hope you got some rest since there won’t be much time for it once we get aboard ship.”

  Lud let out a heavy sigh of relief. “I’m glad it’s you, Xav. For a moment, I thought we were going to have to hire someone.”

  The gray mustache twitched as the man gave a quiet, good-natured laugh. “I’d never leave you out here, Lud. Too damn hard getting workers this far out. Why else do you think I made the trip myself?”

  Lud glanced at Sam. “Meet Xavier, your new boss.”

  Sam nodded a greeting.

  Xavier gave Sam an appraising look. Light from the fires that lit and warmed the room played about his gray eyes. “If you two are done socializing, we can get to work.”

  The main street of the dilapidated outpost held too many dark alleyways for Sam’s liking. Instead of heading into the jungle of low-gravity plants to get to the clandestine landing sites, Xavier marched his workers to a large, open area of shuttles, each guarded by at least one individual outfitted in more weapons than clothing.

  Sam attempted to identify which shuttle Xavier was heading toward. Each looked worse than the last. Dented, scarred, and patched, none looked capable of making it back to the village let alone undertaking space flight. An odd sense of calm swept his thoughts. All that worry about how to fix Leviathan’s computer paled in comparison to the ques
tion of how they’d reach the large ship.

  Xavier nodded to one of the guards. The man holstered his weapon and opened the hatch of a craft that looked as though it had crash-landed rather than being primed for liftoff. The landing skids, so badly bent the door didn’t need stairs for people to access it, sunk into the red dust. Scrapes of bright, newly exposed metal crossed darker dents down the length of the hull.

  Lud grimaced as he ran his hand along one of the new areas of damage. “She’s looking a little rough there, Xav.”

  The thin man grunted from under his gray beard. “We had a slight disagreement on the way here. On our way back, if you see a black ship with a half dozen gashes out of her top, you let me know.”

  The interior of the craft did even less to convince Sam of its abilities. Winding his way past wires hanging from the ceiling, display screens bent out from the walls at every angle, and metal plates twisted up from the floor, Sam wondered how he’d even secured himself for liftoff.

  Lud pulled at a couple of cargo harnesses and thrust Sam between them. “Hang on tight. This thing never was a smooth flight. And if Xavier thinks there might be trouble, he’ll be rock hopping out to Leviathan.”

  Sam winced. “Rock hopping?”

  Lud nodded. “Sections of the Kuiper Belt can be more asteroid field than open space. I’d just love to tell you that Xavier is an expert at flying around those big rocks. But truth be told, he’s better at skipping these shuttles off the rocks than avoiding them. This is our third shuttle in the last year.”

  Sam swallowed hard, his throat dry, as he tried not to stare at the view screens that lit up around him. The liftoff caused his legs to buckle even with Chiron’s low gravity.

  But his fear didn’t totally paralyze his limbs until the pebbles on the view screens grew to boulders and then to the size of small buildings. And in the middle of them was an all-black ship with fresh, bright metal scrapes along its top.