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

by Craig Martelle

  “Hey, guys, you know, sorry to interrupt you. Looks like you were just in the middle of a raging kegger. By all means, you do you, I’ll just jump in the cockpit and be on my way. Cool?”

  The lead Lestalt shook his head. “No,” it hissed. “Not cool.” His voice was harsh and jagged, like raking dried wood over broken glass.

  “Black Rock is ours now,” the creature continued. “Intruders become flayed. You are an intruder.”

  Jed took a step back. “Nah, buddy. My skin would totally clash with your eyes. Seriously. Not even worth the trouble.”

  The three advanced, the one in the lead smiling, his tongue flicking out. They drew close, following him as he stepped back again, trying to get some space between him and them. They matched him pace for pace.

  Finally the lead Lestalt lifted his rifle and sneered. “Stop. Enough. We end this.”

  Jed’s eyes darted to the right. “If you say so. Lork?”

  One of the metal grates within the curved ceiling of the cargo hold clattered and fell, smashing down to the ground and Lork slammed down on top of it, landing in a deep, low crouch, eyes glaring at the three dark aliens who all turned in unison to face him. Jed lunged left, closing his fist and pounding it against the wall, his hand striking the release for the unloading ramp embedded in the starboard wall. An alarm wailed as the door clacked, separating from the wall with a sudden screech and hiss of incoming air. Lork lashed out with his right hand, wrapping his fingers around one of the many handles embedded in the floor of the cargo hold for emergency purposes. The three Lestalts knew nothing of these handles and widened their eyes, pulling their mouths open in silent screams as the unloading ramp broke free from the wall and unfolded, creating a vacant hole in the hull of the ship, the vacuum of space screaming and rushing, reaching in with ice-cold, invisible fingers, clutching at the three dark-hued aliens, grabbing them and hauling them all out, a thrashing of boneless limbs and narrow bodies, sucking them into the vastness of open space. In one instant they were there, the next they were gone, sucked out into emptiness, the cargo hold a whipping, whirling vacuum of air.

  “Jedidiah!” screamed Lork. “I cannot hold on to this handle for long!”

  Jed was pinned against the wall, flattened to the metal, back first and lifted his left arm, moving it towards the button. He spread his fingers, positioned his palm and slapped it down hard against the glowing red, punching the button inward. Immediately the door clacked loud and ratcheted back towards them, slamming into place, locking the airlock and sealing the contents of the ship back within.

  ***

  “I must say, Jedidiah Kramer, that your insistence to continue onward towards Ultega-4 causes me grave concern!” Lork moved to port towards the weapons controls on the console, twisting his fur-covered head around to glance out one of the side windows.

  “Somehow by some freak chance of will you’ve been able to outsmart the Federation as well as the Lestalt, yet still you’re determined to land on this forsaken bag of rocks!”

  “Hey, hey, hey! Watch it, furball!” replied Jed, guiding the control sticks forward as the DeLorean entered the localized atmosphere of Ultega-4. The ship leaped downward, shuddering as it moved through the tighter collection of air nearer the surface of the rock planet.

  Lork’s dark eyes scanned the console readings ahead of him as he adjusted the various sensors, shaking his head. “This world’s atmosphere is mostly nitrogen,” he said quietly. “There’s some Oxygen as well, scattered carbon dioxide and argon. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “Yeah, me neither,” replied Jed, almost wistfully.

  The DeLorean continued its rough downward trajectory, thrashing and buckling under the increased pressure of the upper atmosphere. For a handful of moments, Lork was almost certain the ship would tear itself apart at the seams, the outer hull panels separating, popping bolts, peeling away like a ripe fruit.

  But it held, and the ride smoothed out, the smuggling ship soon coasting through the lower levels of this strange rock’s air with relative easy, surfing the air currents and riding them down towards the clumped bundles of dark gray clouds. They couldn’t see the ground from their altitude as they veered down, punching into the layers of cloud cover, the sky lightening to a consistent cascade of slate and charcoal all around them. After a few tense moments of the ship bucking and jerking again, they burst through the bottom ridge of clouds…

  …and out into the most beautiful sight Jed had ever seen.

  They dropped from the ashen chunks of dull clouds into a wide expanse of empty sky, light gray slate, cloudless and empty. Below them, lining the gentle slopes of rocky hills were rows and rows of strange devices, ornate antenna and instruments lifting up into the sky, each metallic branch ringed with organically shaped wire mesh in cascading circles. Everything looked so natural that Jed couldn’t help but smile when he saw it, rolling black fields, huge, looming mountain ranges and enough of those antennas to look like endless trees. Jed had never seen a real tree in his life, he’d lived all three and a half decades from one cramped ship to another, and seeing the wide emptiness of Ultega-4 was like nothing he had ever seen before.

  “What is this place?” Lork asked as the DeLorean continued its downward trek, angling towards a flat slab of mountain top, swinging gently around to settle. At the base of the ship the landing skids ratcheted free and clacked down into position and the ship moved towards the terrain, landing with a dull, muffled thump and gentle sagging of compressed landing gear.

  Jed didn’t answer Lork, he just pushed up from the pilot’s seat and moved starboard across the cockpit, heading towards the rear of the ship, the cargo hold to be specific. Lork took one last look at the outer sensors.

  “Jedidiah!” he shouted. “What are you doing? Don’t go out there, it could be dangerous!”

  Jed moved through the cargo hold, making his way towards the side ramp, the one they had ejected the Skin Suits out of only a short time before.

  “I don’t know if the air is safe,” Lork said, hustling after him, speaking frantically. He reached to his left and plucked a helmet and air intake system from the rack near the airlock, pulling the helmet tight just as Jed punched the large red button next to the air lock. Alarms wailed inside the ship, followed by a loud crack and hiss, and the door way slid open, extending the loading ramp in a slow, graceful arc towards the rocky surface.

  “Jedidiah, this is a mistake!” he screamed as Jed took a step out onto the ramp.

  Cool air blew past him, rolling over his bare face and running chills up both arms. Jed closed his eyes, listening to the vast, untamed silence of the place, and he could almost feel the surrounding emptiness. The wide-open air, the far-reaching sky. He felt small. Insignificant. Opening his mouth he drew in a huge, deep breath.

  Lork stood behind him, hands at his side, looking at his ship’s captain with a cocked head. His flat, dark eyes flicked with eyelids, blinking curiously at his back. Jed raised his arms gently to each side, letting the breeze roll through his curled hair, brushing his flesh, picking up his duster and flapping it gently behind him.

  Exhaling, Jed halted for a moment, let himself calm, then drew in another breath, just taking in the air, letting it fill his lungs. He stood there in silence for several moments.

  “Jedidiah?” asked Lork, his voice tinny and echoing from within the air intake system. “Are you well?”

  Jed nodded. “I’m very well, Lork.”

  He turned towards the tall, fur-covered alien, who stood, his legs bent and his arms hanging at his side, looking at the man with moderate confusion.

  “Ultega-4… it was a legend told to me as a child,” Jed said softly. “The first Earth extraterrestrial mining colony. One of the first places the citizens of Earth terraformed and settled once our home planet started deteriorating.”

  “Is that so?”

  Jed nodded. “Earth’s been gone a long time. Thing is, nobody really knows where it is or what happened, but
one thing I do know is that Ultega-4 is a piece of its history. A piece of my history.”

  “So… you are not here for anything?” Lork asked.

  Jed shrugged. “Living in space your whole life, you kind of forget what home is like. You forget how non-chemically altered air tastes. What life is like when you’re not surrounded by too many beings in too small an area. For as vast and open as space is, living in it is pretty damn claustrophobic, you know?”

  Lork shrugged. “My home is mostly forest,” he replied. “Very open. Plenty of opportunity to run, to get fresh air.”

  Jed looked at him. “So what are you doing with me?”

  The taller being tilted his head again. “You know why. The life debt. I owe you my life and am sworn to accompany you as you live out the rest of your days.”

  “Oh, right,” Jed replied, looking away again. “Thanks for the reminder.”

  Lork glanced around them, looking at the high vantage point from the flattened rock they stood upon, out into the gray skies of Ultega-4. His eyes settled on the tall, sprawling rows of antennas.

  Jed noticed his look. “They’re not real, but those are supposed to be trees,” he said. “They help produce carbon-dioxide. Help Earth people breathe.”

  “This world is empty now?” Lork asked.

  “Nobody lives here, far as I know,” Jed replied. “Federation drove them off so they could strip mine the entire planet. Then I guess the Skin Suits arrived and drove them away. Who knows what’s going to happen to it now.”

  The dim light of gray sky faded and Lork cast his eyes upwards, his muscles tightening.

  “Jedidiah Kramer, I think it is time for us to go.”

  Jed followed the direction of his gaze and locked eyes on the horizon. He could see them there, fading into visibility, descending from the clouds as they had. The two Lestalt battle cruisers. They’d moved into orbit, then further into atmosphere and in just a few minutes they’d have them bracketed.

  “It was nice while it lasted,” sighed Jed. He looked back at Lork. “Back on board, tough guy. Time to head back home.”

  Jed walked past him, his boots clanking on the metal ramp as he moved back up into the ship. Lork’s eyes followed him, a narrow smile creasing his lips, a slight nod moving his head.

  “Time to head home,” he said softly, and followed Jed back into the ship to prepare for launch.

  Author Justin Bell

  Justin Bell is a best-selling science-fiction author who specializes in post-apocalyptic fiction with the occasional brush with thrillers, space opera and military sci-fi. Writing through the lens of action and adventure, Justin uses fiction to explore his virulent imagination, an aggressive animal that seems continually starved. A voracious writer, he spends as much time as humanly possible either at the keyboard or with his wife and two daughters. When he's not writing or with his family, he can be found enjoying a fine cup of coffee in a local coffee shop in rural New England, enjoying the fall weather and bracing for winter.

  You can keep up with the latest news on Justin’s books and life at JustinBellAuthor.com.

  Daughters of Ayor

  By David R. Bernstein

  The SalvationOne’s mission was to find a new home for a dying civilization, but a massive solar flare slowly kills all but one crew member. Cut off from the command bridge for six months, Len Morrow is the sole survivor on an irradiated vessel deep in space, but is he really alone?

  Science Officer Log: SalvationOne

  Entry: 439

  I don’t give a crap anymore…

  Log that.

  -End Log-

  ***

  Nearly six months – well, five months, twenty-three days, ten hours, give or take – and I am still here. I look at the time display on the wall. Oh wait, eleven hours now. Great.

  Today’s dinner is ration pack B256 – cheese lasagna. Dried, fake cheese. Low sodium. Enough to survive, I guess. My taste buds died of boredom months ago. I guess it’s better than irradiated vegetables from the quarantined hydroponics bay. The system still provides the plants water, which annoys me to no end. How dumb is it that an advanced AI computer system would shut off eighty percent of the ship due to ionized radiation exposure, but not disable water and power systems there? Luckily, my lab has a separate and dedicated H2O system.

  Would be fun to see the mutant plants that might have developed though. Maybe I have a new, floral shipmate wandering around.

  I’m left with level 1 sleeping quarters, storage room B, and my research lab. A few hours in the rec room would’ve made the last few months bearable, but no. I have four cook books, board games that require more than one player, and three tablets with broken screens. A bounty of excitement. If I had access to engineering, I could fix the shattered devices in ten minutes. It’s like prison with no chance of parole.

  “Computer?” I grit out through my teeth.

  “Yes, Officer Morrow?” a female voice responds. She sounds slightly better than an automated attendant.

  “How about you check the radiation levels for me?”

  “Sure.” She pauses. “Radiation levels at critical. No new breaches.”

  “Computer, can you take me back to Earth now?”

  Not sensing my sarcastic tone, she replies, “Earth is unsustainable for future human life. Our mission objective prevents me from altering course. Humanity’s chance for survival relies on the success of our—”

  “Super. Thanks,” I interrupt. “Computer, play Captain North’s last log entry on screen two.”

  The communications display brightens and expands out from the wall from each side. I’ve tried to get this thing to do more than log and play video entries, but it’s beyond my skill set.

  An older woman with a short, grey haircut pops onto the display, her collar unfastened at her throat. A solemn look fills her tired face.

  “This is my final entry. From what I can tell, the rest of the crew is dead. It’s been twenty days since the solar flare forced the computer to quarantine parts of the ship. No one has attempted to contact me for a week. My body is breaking down. We have failed our mission. My hope is the S1 will maintain its course and someone will discover us. The ships protocols will still function. We are an unmanned lifeboat now. Please tell my family I love them. North out.”

  I’m not sure why I watch that video log. It only depresses me more, but I think some flickering sense of duty is trying to hold on. Captain North was a great person. I respected her, but she was wrong.

  The whole crew is not dead.

  I’m not dead.

  The solar flare disabled my commlink to the rest of the ship. Sealed off before the radiation hit, I’ve only been able to view recorded crew logs. Each one gets harder and harder to watch as they slowly wither away from radiation poisoning. One by one, I replayed their final mission logs. Their bodies are broken down, the life stripped from their dulling faces. Some handled it better than others. I’m not sure how I would’ve handled it, but watching everyone slowly die has not been great either.

  Keeping busy is all I can do to keep my mind off my dwindling rations. With each day that passes, we are thousands of miles further from Earth. Every mile is one step closer to my death. I’ve calculated that I have forty-nine days left of food at limited caloric intake levels. Just when I was getting used to our ship-grown, plant-based protein sources, it was ripped from me by the damn radiation. Today, I plan to analyze our latest deep space scans. None of them have shown any signs of organic compounds from any of the nearest star systems.

  “Computer?”

  “Yes, Officer Morrow?” she replies quickly.

  “Have you processed today’s data from the DSS?”

  “Analysis shows zero signs of organic compounds from system G-1234.”

  “This is just stupid… stupid.” I slam my fists down on the workstation, my head dropping.

  A rapid cascade of beeps floods out of the comm. “Excuse me Officer Morrow, a priority signal has pinged us f
rom an unknown location. I must attend to this.”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa.” I pop my head up and step back a few steps. “What does that mean?”

  “I am sorry sir. You do not have the clearance level for this protocol.”

  “What the,” I snarl. “I’m the most senior officer left on this ship. Fill me in, now.”

  Nothing but silence fills the room as I stare up at the ceiling. My heart races.

  “Hello? Computer?” I call out.

  A low tone pulses from the comm system, filling the silence. Nothing. My mind’s blank. I can’t recall what this specific alert tone signifies. The alarm intensifies, echoing off the hull walls now. I cringe, covering my ears. It’s hard to think.

  “Computer, what’s going on?”

  I can barely hear my own voice. The ship rattles. The gravity lock glitches, lifting me up a few inches. I’m yanked down again as it quickly re-engages. I stumble, grabbing a handle on the workbench to brace myself. The Ion drive has reversed, killing all forward momentum. I rush to the sensor panel and try to analyze system statuses, but nothing is giving me data on this alert. My access is restricted even more than normal.

  We’ve come to a full stop now.

  “Computer?” I plead. “Please analyze radiation levels on the bridge.”

  I’m hoping I can just get her to communicate with me again. I need more information and I need it now.

  My breathing becomes faster. All I can do is pace the small lab as I wait. No response. She’s not taking the bait. I need to try something different.

  “Computer, I think there’s a security breach in my lab. Please help.” This lie is all I can think of to re-engage comms with her.

  “I do not detect any breaches from the locked hatches,” she finally responds. “Please expand on your situation.”

  “Why have we stopped?” I ask.

  “Access denied. You do not have clearance.”

  This is impossible. How can I figure out what’s going on if she keeps treating me like a lowly ensign or the ship’s cook?