The Expanding Universe 4: Space Adventure, Alien Contact, & Military Science Fiction (Science Fiction Anthology)

by Craig Martelle

  I blinked at her. “You have one? You’re a street thief.”

  That earned me another eyeroll. “Even the beggars have coms. I’ll get you one so that I can tell you what I see.”

  Getting off the building was as simple as finding an alley, hanging off the side, and dropping. It was only two stories, so my knees absorbed the landing impact.

  The kid decided I was suicidal and used the stairs.

  The alleys weren’t empty, but no one stopped to stare at me. They just averted their eyes and moved along faster.

  Less than a block from the port, the kid dodged off without a word, leaving me alone for five minutes. She came back and handed me a ludicrously small handset.

  “I can’t use this,” I said, demonstrating how large my fingertips were in comparison to the almost microscopic screen.

  “You can if your life depends on it,” she said flatly. “I’ll call when I’ve seen what’s waiting for us.”

  With that, she took off.

  I worried the thugs would recognize her for a few seconds before shaking my head. She was a street rat, and the city was full of them.

  Zajac would eventually work out who she was and put a hit out on her, but not everyone in his organization would know she was the one they were wanting right now. If they were even worried about her.

  The sonofabitch was going to pay one day, I vowed. I’d make him a pet project.

  The com chimed with some little ditty that sounded like a dance club song. I pressed the accept button with the tip of my pinkie.

  “Go.”

  “I’m going to cut your balls off,” a woman declared.

  It wasn’t the first time I’d been threatened with that fate, so it barely fazed me. Oddly, it always seemed to be women who wanted to neuter me.

  The voice belonged to someone older than the kid, so I was a bit confused by the call.

  “Who is this? I’m a little busy.”

  “Seriously? I’m the bitch whose phone you just stole. You know, the one in your damned thieving hand.”

  I sighed. Of course the kid had stolen the phone. She was a thief. What had I expected?

  A tone sounded on the com, and an icon appeared indicating a second call.

  “Yeah,” I said. “Sorry about that. Got another call, so I’ve got to go. Good luck with the next phone.”

  I cut off the woman’s outraged squawk by flashing over to the other call. “Kid?”

  “Of course it is,” she said in an exasperated tone. “You expecting any other calls?”

  “Maybe. I just hung up with the lady you stole the com from.”

  “I’m impressed she noticed it was missing so fast. We’ll be gone before she can trace it. I found your pit and have some good news and some bad news.

  “The pit is under guard, but you can get over the wall, based on what I’ve seen you do. There looks to be four or five of Zajac’s men keeping an eye on your ship, but it’s still here.”

  “I’ll come in as fast as I can so they don’t have time to react,” I said. “Look for me on the opposite side of the pit from the tunnel.”

  With that, I dropped the com. Someone else would find it, and the owner could have their balls.

  Speed was key now, not stealth, so I hauled ass out of the alley and into the spaceport. It didn’t have a fence around the pits since the pits were protected from casual entry by their blast walls. There were a lot of people between pits, but none of them seemed to be looking for me. Not yet, anyway.

  I ran around another pit to come in on mine from the appropriate angle. The kid was waiting beside the four-meter blast wall.

  “Up you go. Tell me what you see.”

  I grabbed her, crouched, and leapt up as high as I could with my arms extended.

  She grabbed the edge of the wall and pulled herself up. She had good arm strength.

  “We really need to talk about touching other people without their permission,” she said in a low voice. “There are five men inside. No, six. Four are up at the tunnel and two are trying to break into your ship. Which looks like it’s ready for the scrap heap, by the way.”

  “Looks can be deceiving. She’s solid. Here.”

  I tossed her the remote. “Left button kills the security system, right button lowers the ramp. When I create a diversion, open it up and get inside. I’ll attack to distract them.”

  “What’s the big button?”

  “Panic button. Sets off the alarm.”

  She shook her head at me as if I was slow. “We’ve really got to work on your planning skills. You’ve got it backward.”

  I felt myself frowning. “What are you talking about?”

  “You need the distraction, not me.”

  With that, she made a show of pressing the panic button.

  In all the years I’d owned Razor, I’d never done that. The alarm was loud. It almost deafened me, and I was on the other side of the blast wall. I didn’t envy those poor bastards standing at her ramp.

  The kid gestured toward the tunnel and dropped herself over the wall. There must’ve been something over there, because she’d have broken her legs in a straight fall from that height.

  I didn’t have time to worry about her. The alarm would turn the guards around for me, but it would also bring everyone else running. It was time to get the hell off this planet.

  It took me fifteen seconds to run around the pit. I drew my pistol and ran down the tunnel.

  Two of the guards were right in front of me but had their backs toward me. The other two must’ve gone to the ship. Everyone had their hands over their ears because the sound levels in the pit were hellish.

  I used the butt of my pistol to crack one of them in the head while I slammed the other one against the wall of the tunnel with my free forearm. He screamed something, but it wasn’t really audible over the howling alarm.

  Once they were down, I saw that the kid had run into trouble. Too many bad guys next to the ramp. Or she’d decided on her own to wait for me. Teamwork didn’t seem like her thing, not that I was a shining example in that arena either.

  Since they weren’t actively trying to kill me, I didn’t really feel comfortable shooting them in the back. Time for plan B.

  I hunched down and ran at the men. I kept my head high to avoid goring them, but I still knocked them in every direction. Two didn’t get back up, one rolled over on his back and held his probably broken arm against him, and the last one rose to a knee, drawing his pistol.

  That was good enough for me to shoot that one dead.

  The alarm died, and moments later, the kid appeared at my side. “That’s one loud alarm.”

  “No shit,” I said as I shook my head to try and stop the ringing in my ears. “Gimme the remote.”

  I took the remote and started the ramp down. Of course it jammed partway down, causing me to use a few extra-spicy Borelian words.

  Then someone at the tunnel started shooting at us. Perfect.

  I grabbed the kid and tossed her in a high arc that just cleared the top of the ramp. Then I huddled behind a far-too-skinny landing leg and returned fire at the men in the tunnel.

  “There’s a lever up there,” I shouted. “Cycle it up and down a few times and then pull it down.”

  Rather than focus on the ramp and its lack of progress, I did my best to kill the thugs and stay unpunctured. Some went down, but more kept taking their places. The loud shots in the confined area were making the ringing in my ears worse.

  I fired rapidly, swapping magazines until I ran completely dry. The ramp was finally on its way down, but I still had to holster my pistol and use the tiny human weapons I’d taken from the gangsters. Only my pinkie really fit in the guard, and they were like little pop toys.

  Still, they kept the gangsters’ heads down, so I’d call that a win.

  The ramp finally came down enough for me to throw myself onto it and scramble into the ship. I slapped the switch into the up position and the ramp started back up.

&nb
sp; The thugs ran forward and fired into the ship, but I grabbed a fire extinguisher and screwed up their view of us. Then I emptied the little pistols into the general area where they had to be and threw them like rocks for good measure when they ran dry.

  Then I threw the empty fire extinguisher. There was a metallic “clunk,” and a man howled, so I’d hit someone.

  Once the ramp sealed and I was sure I didn’t have any unwanted passengers—other than the kid—I headed for the cockpit.

  The kid pressed herself into a bulkhead and allowed me to pass. Wise decisions, as there was little space and I was in a hurry.

  Long familiarity allowed me to get into my cramped couch in less than five seconds and start bringing the ship to flight readiness.

  “Don’t touch anything,” I told the kid when she squeezed in and plopped herself down in the spare couch beside the engineering console.

  “Like I’m an idiot.” The scorn in her voice could’ve roasted marshmallows.

  “Uh huh. Pull the strap around your waist and tighten it down good.”

  I followed that excellent advice myself. The next few minutes were likely to be hairy.

  The ship’s com was filled with demands for explanation when I turned it on. Someone was telling everyone else to shut up unless they had an explanation for what sounded like a war breaking out.

  Weighing the probable outcomes, I decided that asking for permission to take off was probably a bit much, so I brought the drives up to readiness.

  It would be dickish to fry the goons in the pit, so I pulsed the drives lightly to send any laggards running, waited twenty seconds, and put the drives into full lift mode.

  The blasts of fire couldn’t get out of the pit, and the pressure created a cushion under my ship that raised it more easily off the ground. Once I was up over the lip of the blast wall, I engaged the main drives and rocketed up into the sky.

  Below me, I could see other ships coming to life in their pits. They looked like Talons. The Sovereignty had retired those from system defense forces a couple of decades ago, but they were still more than I could handle with Razor.

  “Hang on,” I said through gritted teeth. “This is going to be closer than I like.”

  I shoved the drives beyond the point I was supposed to in atmosphere. That made for a rough flight, and it would only take me so far, but I’d need every second I could beg, borrow, or steal to get far enough out to jump into hyperspace.

  “What’s your name?” the kid grunted after the acceleration pushed us both roughly into our couches.

  “Zag. What’s yours?”

  She blinked at me and then scowled. “That is not your name! You made that up.”

  “It’s not the name I was born with, no, but it’s mine now. I figured my old name was a burden once I left home because I was never going back.”

  The kid considered than and then nodded sharply. “I like that. I’m Zig.”

  It was my turn to scowl. “That’s not a real name.”

  “It’s as real as Zag,” she said defiantly. “And since I’m going to be your partner, it sounds good. Zig and Zag.”

  “You aren’t going to be my partner,” I said repressively. “I’ll drop you off at the next planet, and you can start up whatever life there you like. I’ll make sure you have enough cash to start with. That’s the least I can do.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said haughtily. “You’re not smart enough to make it without someone keeping you from doing stupid crap. I’m staying.”

  Somewhat at a loss, I decided I’d put that fight off until later. It wasn’t as if she had much of a choice about me putting her off the ship.

  Still, she was amusing to have around. I’d been alone for a long time, and it wouldn’t hurt to make up my mind after the hyperspace jump.

  Besides, I had to get away, or none of that really mattered.

  The scanners showed the Talons finally catching up, but we were in space already. They’d need to get into vacuum before they could fire on us, and I only needed another thirty seconds to get to the minimum jump radius.

  That was the prescribed distance a ship needed to be away from a planet to make the jump to hyperspace. I’d hold out as long as I could, but I suspected that I was going to see how much of a safety factor was built into that limit shortly.

  I jammed the drives to maximum, and the kid and I both grunted as an invisible hand jammed us down. I couldn’t look at her, but I suspected she’d passed out. I wasn’t that far away, but I only needed to keep this up for twenty more seconds.

  The Talons cleared the atmosphere, missiles streaming from their sleek hulls and racing after us. Looked like I’d only have about ten seconds. I hoped I wasn’t about to kill us both, but we were out of time.

  I killed the drives and swiped my hand over the hyperdrive controls. The stars ahead of the ship seemed to reach out and grab us, yanking the ship into the gray null space with a snap that made my teeth rattle.

  That was a lot rougher than normal, but the controls indicated we were still in one piece and the hyperdrives were working as expected.

  We’d gotten away.

  I stretched the kinks out of my back and turned to examine the kid as the Wandrey antigravity plates came online. She was out.

  For the first time since I’d met her, she looked relaxed. She couldn’t have been more than fifteen or sixteen human years of age, if that.

  Could I just dump her off and go on my way without worrying I’d screwed up?

  No, I decided after a few seconds. It looked as if I had a new partner. But she wasn’t getting any named billing. It was just Zag the bounty hunter and sidekick.

  I laughed at how well that would go over and turned back to the controls. I needed a destination far enough away to spend a few days arguing with her about it.

  Based on how much I was looking forward to that, I really had been alone for too long. Well, it looked as if those days were behind me now. Time to plan for the future and start teaching a street thief to be a bounty hunter trainee.

  Author Terry Mixon

  Bio: #1 Bestselling Military Science Fiction author Terry Mixon served as a non-commissioned officer in the United States Army 101st Airborne Division. He later worked alongside the flight controllers in the Mission Control Center at the NASA Johnson Space Center supporting the Space Shuttle, the International Space Station, and other human spaceflight projects. He now writes full time while living in Texas with his lovely wife and a pounce of cats.

  Link: https://www.amazon.com/Terry-Mixon/e/B00J15TJFM

  Messenger

  Yudhanjaya Wijeratne & R.R Virdi

  Am I a man dreaming that I am a machine, or a machine dreaming of being a man?

  We looked to our neighbors in times of war to be our enemies. It was the wrong place to look. We should have turned our gaze upward, to the sky—to space. In our preoccupation with ourselves, we missed them—the others.

  Picture this, if you will. One moment, I was checking out of three years of reserve duty in the Indian Army, putting down my rifle and walking up the old beaten path to the house. My little one shrieked and bounded towards me. The wife, eight months pregnant, looked on fondly.

  The path was overgrown: it was my job to trim it, to keep the weeds from spilling over into the driveway. It needed cutting. The little one needed new shoes. The car had rusted a bit. It was mundane as far as a life goes, but I was happy have these chores to return to. A simple life—a good one.

  The next thing I remember, my wife was gone, my child was gone, my house a smoldering ruin. And I was wading through fistfuls of ocean, screaming in rage and pain as I poured missile after missile into the Enemy.

  ***

  It started, as far as we know, with an asteroid. Or what we thought was an asteroid.

  NASA did their jobs, running their instruments and coming back shaking. Ordinary asteroids are fused lumps of rock and ice that look like potatoes tumbling through space. This one looked like a sleek ciga
r of mostly metal.

  The press went wild. They called it Oumuamua, Messenger, a Hawaiian name that meant little to us.

  People who knew what it might be—or suspected—called it Rama and waited with bated breath. Messenger zipped through our solar system and left. And those who remembered their Arthur C. Clarke heaved a sigh of relief. Sometimes you don’t want it to be aliens, even if they might give you the grand tour of the universe.

  A year later, another Oumuamua—smaller, sleeker—slammed into the Moon. That first Messenger must have figured out what our instruments were like. By the time we knew it was coming, it was already too late. It hit the dark side of the Moon with the force of thirty-three nuclear bombs. A star blossomed on the dead lunar surface. The sun must have thought the Moon was winking at it.

  There were those in the space industry who wanted to go look at this thing. Launch a probe, maybe a lander, figure out what the hell happened.

  It’s the damned Moon, we thought. Who cares what happens up there? Besides, who had the money for a space industry, anyway? The economy was tanking, populations were on the rise, the world was going to shit, and the only thing I paid attention to those days was my horoscope: Goals you are trying to reach slip out of your grasp. Work harder this week.

  We should have paid attention. We didn’t.

  Within weeks, the first of Them landed. It streaked through the atmosphere, burning, screaming, and hit the south-west of India like the wrath of God. The explosion rocked the entire state of Karnataka. Downtown Bangalore became a smoking hole twenty feet deep with towers toppling around it like so many toy bricks. Glass shattered for miles around. Cars melted in the heat.

  And something stood there in the carnage. Or tried to. Something burned, like wreckage, cracked and shattered with the heat of re-entry. Something with a great head and parts that spun and moved and steamed. Something with a mouth hung open, drooling fire and slavering.

  Parts of my house cracked and steamed. From the ruins of my house came the awful smell of hair burning and flesh roasting.