Mission: Blackguard Conspiracy
Page 1
Mission: Blackguard Conspiracy
By V. A. Jeffrey
Copyright © 2015
All rights reserved.
Artwork by Streetlight Graphics
An Epistle Publishing book
The stories contained in this book are works of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, past or present is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved.
If you haven't picked it up yet,
don't forget the first book in the Mission series:
Mission: Flight To Mars
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Mission series:
Flight to Mars
Lights of Langrenus
Attack on Europa
Harbeasts of Mars
Blackguard Conspiracy
Table of Contents
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
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12
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14
1
The momentum I'd gained from my jet pack had me careening into the wall and I began sliding toward the airlock. I caught myself upon one of the ship's rear support columns and frantically swung myself around and with a thump I hit the floor, snatching up the broken pipe as he bore down on me again. He grabbed my arm and swung me upwards. I hit the ceiling with a hard crack and he grabbed my legs to slam me down against the floor. I swung the pipe and bashed him on the shoulder but his strength in his rage was fantastic! It seemed to have no effect on him but I hit him again, this time across his helmet, cracking it. He slammed me against the ground and I saw white and red blurry stars spring up on the edges of my vision. Adrenaline was now the only thing that kept me going – that, and growing rage. I, too, had become stronger and more fit through my labors as a U-net agent.
He tried to stomp me while I was down. I took the pipe and jammed it into his crotch. He shrieked; a piercing, inhuman cry. I rolled across the ground and staggered up but had dropped my pistol and couldn't get to it in time. Then he started to laugh hysterically, his eyes gleaming nearly white with hatred, his mouth and tentacles full of bloody phlegm and saliva. Beside that, unfortunately, he was largely unharmed and coming at me like a hawk after prey.
“You've been a pain in my ass for too long, Astor! Die, human scum! No one is going to save you this time!” he screamed, bloody spittle flying from his mouth and bubbling on his faceplate. He pulled out a curved knife and I kicked his arm, sending it clattering to the floor behind him.
“Only in your ass? I haven't been trying hard enough!” I lunged forward, smashing into him and we both went down toppling over the storage boxes. With superior strength, he got the best of me and I soon found myself pinned under him, struggling as he laughed. His face was so badly mangled that I no longer recognized him, the human engineered skin and alien flesh and appendages fused together in a monstrous unity. He straddled me with his legs, grabbed my helmet and began bashing it against the floor trying to crack it open. The powerful sucking sound of the air emptying from the craft was becoming louder and I felt the powerful force of motion as the air pressure chamber door finally rose open completely and we both slid toward the open door. I could see the pistol only a few feet away from me again. Tantalizingly close.
If only I had listened to Magnum!
Outside, just a few feet away was black space, the soon-to-be graveyard for one of us. I yelled and pushed against him trying to lift him off me. If I didn't do something quick I would be dead matter floating in space. And then I saw my chance. His jet pack strap was sticking out from behind his arm. I grabbed the strap and pushed the forward blast button sending him careening into the opposite wall. I held on to the strip and swung him around again as he screamed in rage. I forwarded his momentum by pushing the lift off and drive buttons again as he tried to yank the strip from me. He managed to do that as I swung him further toward the open hatch trying to throw him out. Finally yanking it free he flew back down from the ceiling and charged after me, knife in hand. By then I had dropped to the floor and grabbed the pistol. I fired right before he was able to descend upon me and a stream of violet laser fire crackled from the pistol burning a large hole in his chest. He screamed again, more in anguish than pain. I fired again, this time the laser fire severing one of his arms. I watched as both he, his arm and all the blood, effluvia and fluids spewing from his body toppled end over end out the air chamber and then floated out the door into cold space.
“Yeah,” I said, sighing heavily and sinking down to my knees. “I guess it does end here.” Finally, my nemesis was gone. Forever.
I felt myself being pulled along the floor and realized that my own leg was now tangled in his jet pack strap, which had unraveled from his pack during the fight. I stood up, trying to anchor myself, looking for anything to hold on to but there was nothing in the bay but a few storage boxes which were now just out of reach. I accidentally dropped the pistol, sending it scuttling toward the door in my struggle to free myself. The pressure was becoming too strong for me to walk against it. I fell and slid helplessly along the floor as the body floated further out into space. I struggled in vain to untangle myself and shake it off. It was no use. I crawled across the floor toward the cockpit, each movement becoming ever more difficult as the force of the air and the dead weight of the body was too great. I grappled against the smooth surface of the floor desperately, then turned back to see myself sliding near the pistol. I grabbed hold of it again and shot the strip, finally severing the cord. I slid down the floor and managed to hold on to a bar against the wall of the airlock. Sliding my arm toward the emergency controls, the force of the winds forced my head down against the wall. I positioned myself awkwardly, sideways against the wall and reached the control panel, pulled the lever and the doors came down and secured the ship. I could finally feel the air around me slowly return to normalized pressure as the air lock secured itself completely.
I fell to the ground and simply remained there for a few moments. He really was gone, never to hunt me or my family again. All I had to do now was wait for someone to come and respond to the ship's distress signal. When my energy returned I eventually went to the cockpit and sat down, taking off my helmet. I turned the lights off and sat back, staring at space. There was a change in me. I was no longer afraid. Tulos had said as much would happen one day. And he'd said to savor it. To celebrate it. But then, maybe I was too dumb to be afraid. After all, who in their right mind would have followed an alien spy all the way to another planet in the first place but someone who was too dumb to be afraid? I laughed.
I think we'd won. And I felt that I could finally breathe, that whatever trials would come for the human family, and there would be many, that the future was once again bright. . .
. . .and then I woke up. Again, my dreams were becoming more like real life, as if I could smell, touch and experience the pain in them. And I realized that they were prescient dreams. Which was making me question my own sanity. This wasn't helping things with my wife, who normally took everything in stride. There had been a change in her attitude toward me lately. She was now calling everything I did into question, even my sleeping patterns! Once again, I was a hero in my dreams, saving the world only for that dream to dissipate and my ego to deflate when I woke up to reality.
2
Thursday, September 19, 2154
Pam had been listening to the news stream in the wee hours of the morning before she finally came to bed. Or I'd thought so. I'm not entirely sure. I
knew she was doing a lot of stirring in and out of bed and I heard voices in another room that sounded rather official and ultra-slick, like, you know, media announcers.
Once again, the news and every other commercial were about the new stargate to be unveiled at this year's Science and Technology convention, or Sci-Tech Con for short. The advert sent me into a state of silent panic with a searing pain shooting through my gut whenever I heard it mentioned. It was all anyone ever talked about at work or in the street.
You know when you have those nights when your mind weaves in and out of sleep? Which means you aren't actually getting any real sleep? I felt lost in this dreamlike state. Now they'd switched to a different subject. I think it was the Space Frontier Today news show. Someone was speaking about a new dynamic industry of diamond mine companies that would start springing up around Neptune within the next twenty years and the burgeoning ore mining industry on Venus.
I'd heard about this on and off months ago. And then I heard no more about it.
I had another dark dream of Jovian storms. I know what the dreams mean now. How they would come true I wasn't clear on but it was my job to find out. They spelled the doom of humanity.
I wonder about a lot of things now. Like why my family hates me.
Actually, they don't hate me but it sure feels like it. The only one who has forgiven me for my long, largely unexplained absences on Mars is my little Marybear.
Never mind that I was illegally imprisoned more than once, kidnapped and nearly murdered several times out there; nearly eaten alive, de-boned, forced to play savage games, experimented on and experienced mental torture. And never mind that I risked my life to help save the world from alien invasion plans hatching on Europa. Oh no! Mere diversions.
Never mind any of that. I wasn't there for them. I had abandoned them and that was all that mattered. No other argument would pass muster. I didn't speak much of my trials out there because no one wanted to hear about them. Except my daughter, who didn't quite understand all of it but at least listened (I didn't tell her the nastiest bits) and was glad to see her daddy back home. My wife, however, grew a scowl whenever she laid eyes on me and my son could barely speak to me.
I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. I wasn't there for them. That was the truth. And they'd had their own trials while I'd been gone, to my unhappy surprise. But anyway, this is me whinging. I'll stop now.
As a salve to them we were on a big vacation at the popular and always crowded Kipling Wonderland Jungle Park. Or Kipling Park, for short. It's even more popular then Disneyland, a marvelous feat. I'm not sure how well it was turning out. It was half fun and half stressful, and the stress seemed to be edging out lately. Kipling Park was actually several smaller parks connected by bridges and streams with Mowgli's Palace, the Kipling Park headquarters, a huge and lavish “mud hut” style resort and offices. Each of the smaller parks had a specific theme with restaurants, rides and museums to match its theme and in each park were located palatial suites, lodges or tents, depending upon how much you wanted to rough it.
We rented one of the fancier lodge suites right in the middle of Colonel Hathi Park. Kipling Park was a big hit with kids. I was hoping this would iron out some wrinkles and get us back to being a happy family again. Funny enough, things were fine with my wife and son as long as I wasn't around. So I mostly hung out with Mary while Pam and Jonah often would go far way somewhere else in the park, usually to Bagheera Gardens or the Jungle Wildlife Museum. Mary and I rode all of the rides in Colonel Hathi Park, especially enjoying the hover-cart races. We didn't see much of each other over the week until the evenings, when we got back to the lodge.
Some vacation this was turning out to be, but I held out hope that things would improve.
It was right before dawn as I turned over to glance at the clock, a rather charming antique piece in the shape of an English galley frigate, on the table. The soft chime went off six times. Six o'clock. Pam was sleeping like a log beside me. I didn't want to wake her up. If I did she'd be mad anyway.
I got up slowly, rubbing my face, put on my robe and went to the den. Somewhere not too far away I heard several elephants making various vocalizations. Our particular lodging was called Blooming Lotus Lodge. It was very comfortable and spacious and we had three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a den, dining room and kitchen and a jacuzzi. It was a couple of steps down from the luxurious Lotus Hotel nearby.
I sat in the reclining chair near the wide, gleaming desk and pressed my hand against the universal console. The lamp lights came on low and the computer started up silently. I searched the news feeds, switching between the smaller holo-screen at the desk and the much bigger holo-screen with the router pointing to its chip mounted on the den wall. I searched the weather feeds of the inner solar system. It was difficult these days to find relevant information on weather and other natural space activity outside of the asteroid belt while on Earth. Most people running these webcasts and feeds just didn't see storms on Jupiter, Enceladus or natural activity on Neptune as all that important. But I knew better. Get off Earth and travel farther out and the planetary weather reports were far more thorough, accurate and broad ranging, for good reason. I did my best to plug into an independent, non-government, non-corporate feed. Which meant WSEL and the usual satellite news feeds were of no use to me right now. In disgust, I sucked my teeth. I was looking for information on storms, current storms on Jupiter.
Mars Weather Signs, the channel I tried to find when I was on the smuggler's station Gunner's Run, had temporarily disappeared. Some sort of interference, again. Huh.
A commercial suddenly streamed on, naturally as loud as all get-out. I turned it down before Pam could wake up to yell at me to turn it down.
“Enjoying Kipling Park with your family? Something even more spectacular is coming! Vepaja! A verdant jungle paradise island city on the exotic planet of Venus! Vepaja is that place of wonder for everyone: lovers, families, business trips, personal excursions, big game hunting parties. Now exclusively open to select visitors. Opening to the public soon!”
So Venus was supposedly ready for tourists. And exclusive tourists at that!
Actually, I was pleased by the prospect. A major housing materials project which had been in the works for years was finally moving forward at work to bring more people there, as well as the lunar housing materials project that we'd recently finished.
Then came the commercial that was trumpeted everywhere these days; the approaching Sci-Tech convention and the momentous first stargate to be unveiled there. As far as the whole world was concerned this thing was the scientific Second Coming. I was sick of hearing about it.
But Venus. Now that might really be something. I wouldn't mind going on safari in a vast, Venusian jungle. I thought. Maybe I could take Jonah. If only I could drag him out of his sullen mood. My family had gotten into thinking I'd abandoned them. Irrational on its face but as I came to understand their side of the issue, understandable.
And unfair. But what could I do? Perhaps Vepaja was the answer. I don't know. I felt miserable.
I lay down on the couch and shut my eyes, trying to get a few more minutes of sleep before we started our day while an elephant trumpeted joyfully outside.
. . .
“Okay. Let's make sure we've got all our orders straight so when we get up there we know exactly what we want,” said Pam, moving her stylus deftly over her data pad, always the efficiency expert.
“Daddy, I want fish and chips and a mint chocolate chip jungle shake,” said Mary. We were standing in line at the Banana Shack Cafe and Grill. It was near noon and after spending our morning at the huge Menagerie Zoo today, Pam herded the family toward the restaurant before it got too long.
That was the problem with places like this. They could be fun, but the lines!
The lines!!
Actually, we'd only been standing here for a half hour. Not bad considering the amount of people that were showing up.
“Sounds good to me, Ma
rybear. Let mom know. Pam, I'm going to get the shrimp basket. Jonah, what do you want?” Jonah didn't answer, his face fixed with a sullen glare.
“Jonah, honey, what are you getting?” asked Pam.
“I just want curly fries. No ketchup.”
“You don't want anything else, honey?” He shook his head.
“Are you sure?” I asked. Nothing. I sighed, looking around. It was getting extremely crowded and the temperature was climbing. It was already ninety-five degrees. When we finally made the arduous journey to the counter my wife handed me the data pad with the list of meals to order while she took the kids and wound through the crowds to find a clean table. Between the babies screaming, the people laughing and talking and the radio blaring Les Baxter's “Voodoo Dreams”, I was ready to bolt. I said a silent prayer and stilled my temper. After finally getting our orders in and waiting at the other end of the counter for an interminable length of time I picked up my tray, laden with food and drinks, and snaked my way toward our table at the back of the huge – and packed – grass and wood hut-styled restaurant. Suddenly, one of the park's numerous pygmy marmosets lept down from one of the wooden rafters, spying our food, fresh from the fryer and grabbed two of my large, deep fried halibut filets from one of the baskets, tried to snatch something from my shirt pocket and turning over the bucket of curly fries onto the floor.
This elicited roars of laughter from the crowds. It was amusing to everyone in the place but me and now my son's food was all over the floor. One of the waitresses came over, profusely apologetic. I was ready to explode. I mean what if that thing decided to take a dump on top of my head? But again, I kept my temper as she apologized, cleaning up the mess.
“I'm so sorry sir! The management thinks they're cute. That's why they keep them around. I'll get you a free bucket of curly fries and fish fillets, right away!”