Lieutenant Bart McSwain

by Frank Carey

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  COPYRIGHT

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Lieutenant Bart McSwain

  Adventures of the League Space Patrol Book 2

  By Frank Carey

  COPYRIGHT

  Copyright © 2018 by Frank Carey

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  League Tale #58

  CHAPTER ONE

  Space Patrol Repair Specialist Lieutenant Bart McSwain threw his spanner on the deck before kicking the offending food synthesizer in its base.

  "Bart, that will not repair the unit," the station computer, Charis, informed him.

  "No, but it makes me feel better," he replied. Taking a deep breath, he retrieved the spanner and calmly went back to work. "Char, what the hell was with Zoe when she built this place? You've got bioengineering systems that are beyond anything the League could build mixed with life support systems that belong in a landfill. It's like she didn't give a damn about the people she built once she was finished building them."

  "I concur. Dr. Muntz was a dictionary definition of incongruity. Look at this base: an advanced bioresearch center which she abandoned in a fit of pique, leaving several GELFs in stasis pods."

  "Yeah. I know two of those GELFs, and both would gladly end her life if she wasn't already dead... She is dead, right?"

  "Yes, Bart, she is dead, her body floating in the vacuum of the Omega Nebula space. You can stop worrying about her returning and finding you here kicking her equipment."

  "Tell me again what you are?"

  "I am an advanced biomolecular quantum computer system, the only one of my kind in the known universe."

  "Not an Alue, immortal, or Necrue?"

  "No, I am not that primitive."

  He laughed. Since arriving at Charybdis to complete repairs of the abandoned station, he and Char had become friends of sorts, even with him being a human and all.

  "There, that's got it. Char, run diagnostics, please," he asked while rubbing a pendant he wore around his neck.

  "Of course, Bart." A perfectly cooked steak dropped onto a plate followed by a pile of French fries. He carefully took a fry and tried it. "Not bad," he said while taking the plate out of the machine and walking over to a table to eat. The mess hall could easily handle a hundred people, but now it only catered to his nutritional needs. "Charis, what's next on the repair list?"

  "Video monitoring system is on the fritz again, corridor scanners are out on all levels, and intermittent glitches in the network are at the top of the list," she replied.

  "At least we can perform periodic station scans using the main array..."

  "Bart?"

  "Yes, Charis?"

  "I talked to Jinx the other day when she and Rabbit passed by on patrol."

  "Where was I?"

  "Sleeping. It was just after you finished that 72-hour repair of the gravity generators."

  "Right. Sorry I missed her. What did the two of you talk about?"

  "You. She is worried that you are withdrawing from contact with your fellow corporeal life forms."

  Bart rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Yeah, she's mentioned that. Maybe I am..."

  "You have taken leave only once in the year since Monica passed."

  "No! I've gone... Dammit, has it been that long?"

  "Yes, it has been that long, and Jinx is very worried..."

  A chime sounded. "Bart, we are receiving an all-sector alert on the priority channel."

  "Great." He got up and headed out into the corridor. "Let's take it in the control room."

  He walked down the corridor. Once inside, he walked over to stand in front of the main view screen.

  "Ah, that's where I put it," he said while retrieving a well-used coffee mug from a table. "Monica gave me this when I finished tech school. Char, open a channel, please."

  "Channel open, Bart."

  "This is Lieutenant McSwain at Charybdis Station acknowledging your priority alert," Bart said as he carefully placed the cup on a console.

  "Bart, this is Shasta over at Tralaska Command Center. How're y'all doing, Buddy?"

  "Hey, Shasta. Char and I are doing great. Everything is quiet out here in the middle of nowhere. What's going on?"

  "Good to hear. Listen, a mining survey probe over in the Olgath system detected the arrival of a ship of unfamiliar design in the system's asteroid belt. The unknown dropped into other-space just as the probe got a camera on it."

  "Can you send me a photo?"

  "Shooting one over, now."

  A grainy picture of a spacecraft appeared. "Kind of looks like a mech," he noted, "though there is something different about it."

  "Bart, you still have the best eyes in the patrol. Command picked up on those differences and have called in some specialists to investigate them. Until we figure this out, you are to go to defensive condition 3."

  "Roger that, Command, go to DEFCON 3--activate defensive systems and challenge all visitors. Do I rate reinforcements?"

  "We're going to try, buddy, but we're stretched thin. Bart, you see anything out of the ordinary, you'll get on the horn ASAP. Got it?"

  "Roger that, Command. I will scream like an overheated tea kettle."

  "You do that, Bart. Command out."

  "Char, go to DEFCON 3. Activate all defensive systems and deep scan the system until further notice."

  "Set DEFCON 3, aye. All systems read set. Scan clear. Next scan in twenty minutes."

  Bart thought for a moment. "Char, is there any risk associated with activating the internal defensive systems?"

  "No. All bots and mobile weapons systems have been reprogrammed with League protocols."

  "Activate internal defensive systems. Set to DEFCON 4."

  "Activating internal defensive systems. DEFCON 4 is now active..." The room lights, ventilators, and monitors all went black.

  "What the hell..." The lights and other systems came back on as suddenly as they had gone out. "Char, full diagnostics."

  "Working... A massive power drain occurred the moment the station went to DEFCON 4. Source... Source is sub-level six, laboratory 23A. Inventory shows L23A to be completely empty."

  "Scan station!"

  "Bart, the emergency beacon has been activated."

  "Turn it off."

  "Unable to comply. Intruder alert. Multiple bogeys moving toward your location."

  "Point of origin?" he asked, thinking a ship had somehow docked with the station.

  "Sub-level 6, L23A,"

  "Shit. Lock it down, girlfriend!" he said. "Sitrep!"

  "Unable to shutdown beacon. Bogeys are making their way past seals. Warning, a large Bogey has just appeared outside the defensive zone. It is not responding to hails."

  "Contact command on emergency channel. Arm first disaster buoy, transfer logs, and launch."

  "All comm channels are jammed. Launching buoy... Buoy has transitioned to other-space. Bart, you need to get off this level and find a place to hide."<
br />
  "Yeah, I got that, but where?"

  "The habitat area above us. The computer center is shielded from scans. Once the intruders are convinced that they are alone, you can leave via your ship. Now move, mister!"

  "Keep safe," he said as he grabbed his backpack, then ran out of the room and down a corridor to one of several gangways leading to both the upper and lower levels of the station. He ran through the access door and came to a direct stop. He had a feeling that something was very, very wrong, but he couldn't put his finger on it. He took a moment to think.

  "The beacon. Station beacons could only be activated by a button in the control room or by the computer. Since he was the only one in the control room... Shit!" Bart ran down the gangway to the lower levels.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Charis, now in her mobile form, stood in the shuttle dock reception area and waited for her creator to arrive. Behind her stood two dozen strykers, each a genetically engineered life form who worshiped the ground their designer walked on. Through the armorplex walls of the area they watched as a massive warship docked with the station. Moments later, a lone woman stepped through the lock and walked over to where Charis stood. Charis and the strykers went to one knee. "Dr. Muntz, welcome home," she said.

  "It is good to be home, Charis," the petite woman with wild eyes said as she reached down and helped her creation to her feet. "Everyone, get up and bring this station back on-line. We have much to do."

  "Mistress, how did you survive your encounter with Oliver Wilson?"

  Zoe laughed as she went to stryker form. "My armor saved me. Once outside the ship, I hitched a ride with a sympathetic mech," she said as she hooked a thumb over her shoulder. "I showed her the benefits of thinking outside the box. What is our status?"

  "Charybdis has been set aside by the League. Currently, we have one Space Patrol repair tech on board. He is hiding in the habitat area waiting for rescue."

  "Charis, vent the habitat to space. My plans do not include passengers."

  "Mistress, Bart is not a threat. He can be contained..."

  Zoe put her hand on Charis' synthetic shoulder. "Vent the habitat."

  "Yes, mistress. Habitat vented. No life signs detected."

  "Excellent. Now, let's get to work."

  Bart made it to the level below sub-level six when his wrist terminal buzzed. He looked and saw that the entire habitat level had vented. "So much for that friendship," he said angrily. He logged into the station's network through a secure back door and accessed the cameras mounted into the door locks. Separate from the main security system, the door cameras had limited feeds into a diagnostic network which was usually forgotten by everyone except the repair tech. "I hope I don't regret this," Bart said as he completed the connection. "Good, no intruder alarms." He accessed various cameras throughout the station, then stopped when he got to the shuttle dock reception area.

  It was full of strykers plus one human-looking woman with dead eyes. "Now, I wonder who would be wearing a synth body? Hmmmm..." He snapped his fingers. "Charis! It must be my old pal, Charis..." He stopped the jocular exchange with himself when the airlock door opened. Everyone in the room went to one knee, including Charis, when a petite woman wearing her hair Tralaskan-style walked in. He recognized her from the hundred or so pictures that adorned the walls of the station.

  "Dr. Zoe Muntz. The stories of your demise have been greatly exaggerated, I see." He split the screen and brought up the camera from the probe launch room where the emergency buoys were also stored. There sat buoy-1, its status lights as dead as a squirrel in a stew pot. "Dammit to hell. Charis, you and I have a problem."

  He shut down the feed before entering the level. He found a dimly lit corridor cluttered with equipment. There was no sign of life. Unfortunately. Bart couldn't risk scanning for fear of being detected by Charis. He ducked into a lab and gently closed the door behind him. "OK, Bart, what now? There's no rescue for at least 48 hours. We've got the ultimate in mad scientists planning on doing God knows what to God knows who, and she's being helped by a biomolecular quantum supercomputer and a dozen strykers. The only advantage I have is they think I'm dead. Think, moron, think!" He reached under his shirt and took out a pendant. "Damn, Monica, I'm in it deep, and I need some inspiration." He pressed it against his head. "What the hell can I do, baby? I'm a plarking repairman, not a warrior!" He held the necklace, so he could see it, then stopped and stared at the panel beyond. Sitting on the console below the panel was a partially assembled probe, one of the new ones equipped with microFTL drive and shielded data storage. On the floor next to the console was a box with three more, fully-assembled probes, each one still sealed in its shipping pouch. "Elven Industries Ltd. Mark 4 Miniprobe," he read off the labels. "Dr. Aymar is going to have a fit! Monica, baby, you're a genius," he said while grabbing one of the bagged probes and tearing-off its wrapper. "This might actually work." He stopped and starred at the pendant. "I really need to get out more."

  For the next hour, Bart removed probes from their packaging and programmed them to head out of the system on a random vector. Once clear of the station, they dropped into other-space on a heading which would take them to the nearest base, in this case Space Patrol Command Center Earth. Once the programming was complete, Bart recorded a message for Command and added video from the lock cameras. The data was copied into the probes' data banks before Bart shut the probes and loaded them into his pack. Finished, he took a bottle of water and a nutribar from his pack and had a quick snack. That's when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

  The trainers at Space Patrol Academy would have been proud of Bart as he leapt away from the console. In midair, he pulled his weapon and set it to kill before landing on the deck in a defensive stance while his water and snack landed on the console.

  "Monica?"

  Standing in front of him, her flight suit as clean and crisp as the day she had died in it, stood his late wife, Monica. In her hand was his pendant. He felt around his neck, but the necklace was gone.

  "Hey, Baby, miss me?" She reached over, picked up the water, and took a drink. "You look like you're having a tough day."

  "Identify yourself," he stammered.

  "Space Patrol Captain Monica McSwain at your service," she said with a snappy salute. "And you are my husband, Space Patrol Lieutenant Bart McSwain."

  "Monica McSwain died over a year ago while saving Altura-1 from an FTL drive overload. I was there. I saw her die."

  "Yeah, sorry about that. I really thought I could eject in time. How was the funeral?"

  He aimed his weapon at a spot right between her eyes. "I don't know who or what you are, or what you want, but I need to finish something." He thumbed the weapon's power down to heavy stun. "No offense..." Another hand touched his shoulder and put him to sleep. Monica walked over, picked him up and placed him in a chair. Bending down, she gave him a kiss on his cheek. "None taken." She straightened and looked at several silvery figures standing around the room. They walked out leaving Bart to his dreams.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Communications Specialist Lieutenant Shasta Grey was shuffling through the day's list of priority calls when her console bleeped. "Space Patrol Earth Command Center, this is Lieutenant Gray. How may I direct your call?"

  "Hey, Shasta, this is Bart," a familiar voice said as Bart's image coalesced on her center screen.

  "Hey, Buddy, what's up? Your call-in isn't scheduled until tomorrow, and your signal is damn weak."

  "I'm running off the secondary antenna. The main antenna got torn-up by a meteoroid swarm, so I've got to replace it with a spare. I just wanted to notify you that I'm bringing down the whole system for 48-hours, so I won't be calling at my normal time."

  Shasta grabbed a clipboard and noted the SOP change. "Got it. I don't know what the hell I'm going to do without your witty repartee."

  "I's only a couple of days. Hey, Monica sends her love. Charybdis out."

  Around the room, clipboards, coffee cups, and pastries hi
t the floor. Shasta reached over and slapped the panic button before rewinding Bart's message and running it through the station's computer for analysis.

  The watch commander ran over and reset the panic button. "Report."

  "Lieutenant McSwain just called to inform us his comms would be down for 48-hours..."

  "What's unusual about that?"

  "He ended the message by saying his wife sends her love. His wife, Monica, has been dead for over six months, and he hasn't talked about her since the funeral." The computer signaled its analysis, so Shasta ran the replay and analysis on her center screen.

  "There is a 99% chance that the message is fake, probably generated by Charis," the watch commander noted.

  A flashing red square appeared around the image of Bart's left eye. "His iris is changing pixel hues at a megahertz frequency that can only be picked up in the data, not visually," Shasta noted while bringing the hidden data up on her left monitor. It was a video recorded by a synth eyeball and it showed the arrival of Zoe, a room full of strykers, and... "That bitch killed Bart," Shasta said as she went full Venlanten royal. "I will personally tear her soul out and roast it over a bed of red-hot iron rods."

  The watch commander looked around the room and saw every officer standing and watching what was unfolding on Shasta's screens. "Stations! I know Bart was your friend, but we have jobs to do. Computer! Notify the station commander that we have a Priority Zero emergency!"

  The station commander joined them a minute later. When they brought him up to speed, he watched the message and hidden video feed. "Good work, Shasta. Computer, bring the station to DEFCON 3, then connect me with Recon-9."

  Alarms went off as the station prepared for action.

  "Recon-9 acknowledging."

  "Jinx, this is Commander Sole. I want you and Rabbit to proceed to Charybdis and observe the situation. It looks like Zoe Muntz has returned from the dead and has taken over the station. You are to confirm, then standby for further orders. Jinx, you are to requisition two nucleonic missiles for each ship."

  "Damn."

  "One more thing, Jinx, it looks like Zoe had Bart McSwain killed."

  A stream of invectives in Old Elf flowed from the speakers. "I will write a poem for him. It will join Monica's at the shrine. But first, Zoe must die."