by RJ Johnson
“Sir,” The ensign’s voice softened, “There is no saving them. The bolts aren’t going to budge without power.”
“Power is a funny thing,” he said, stripping the cable attached to the generator. He flipped himself upside down in the zero gravity and braced his feet against the side of the hallway. He grabbed the deck plating underneath and removed it, pushing it out of the way. As it spun, floating gently down the hallway, he grasped the cable he had stripped from the Aux generator and aimed his ArmBar cutting laser at the Higgs Generator that he had uncovered from the deck. He fired and the top sparked, exposing the thorium reactor that powered the Higgs generator. “You don’t always need brute force ensign. You just need the right kind of leverage.”
He attached the Aux cable to the Higgs generator. He then connected his ArmBar to the Higgs and watched it reboot. He fell to the deck hard as the generator began to feed power down the power cable to the explosive bolts.
He clenched his jaw and whispered, “Come on, come on…”
And then, he heard it. Like popcorn popping in the distance, the explosive bolts began to give way one by one and the colonist’s compartments were being ejected into open space. Once free, the onboard computer would immediately initiate emergency procedures automatically and guide the compartments into a stable enough orbit till search and rescue could come pick them up.
He pumped his fist in celebration, but had to quickly contain his excitement after glancing at the ship’s status on his ArmBar. Only about half of the bolts were firing, meaning that only half of the colonists were being freed from his ship and their certain doom.
“Sir!” the ensign cried out, “That’s it, you did it!”
“Half of them aren’t working. The other power cable must be cut!” he fumed.
“Sir, we don’t have time, you need to get to a rescue pod.” the ensign said, “We’re less than two minutes from impact. You need to…”
He slammed his ArmBar shut, ignoring the ensign. She might be right, but, wasn’t a captain supposed to go down with the ship? If all these people he was in charge of were about to die, then he would do no less.
The bulkhead above him exploded power surging through it from the Higgs generator which was completely incompatible with the power relays he had connected it to. He was struck by flying debris and felt his body hit the deck hard. Woozy, he tried to stand, but his legs couldn’t (or wouldn’t) corporate, and darkness began to surround him. Vaguely, he could hear shouts, and once again, he imagined he could hear the screams of all the doomed colonists he had failed to save.
When he finally lost consciousness, he found himself feeling grateful, hoping that when death came, it would be quick.
5.
Captain Gonzalez woke coughing up blood and tried to sit up, but was held down by a pair of small hands. He frantically looked around him, expecting to see the burned out remains of his ship surrounding him – or, at the very least, a pair of devils ready to escort him to his new home in eternity. But neither was true.
Instead, Gonzalez found himself inside a rescue pod, being towed gently out of orbit along with a dozen other craft by Martian Search and Rescue. He stared and attempted to connect the hands on his chest with a face – it was the Ensign from the bridge, Ensign… he searched his memory, Parker. That was it, Ensign Parker. Funny how he was able to remember her name now.
“Sir, you need to lie down…” the ensign said her face still covered with the grime of his dying ship. He could see that her hair was soaked in sweat as she sat over her captain trying to keep him still so he wouldn’t tear open his wounds making them worse than they already were.
“Water…” he choked out. The ensign quickly grabbed a bag sitting next to him and adjusted the straw so Gonzalez could take a drink. The cool liquid felt good on his raw, scratchy throat.
“Easy sir, easy does it…” Ensign Parker cautioned. She removed the straw and let Gonzalez catch his breath.
“What happened?” he asked his voice a little stronger.
The ensign looked down, and back up at her captain. “After abandoning the bridge, I went to find you and was barely able to get us to an escape pod before it was too late.”
“The… ship?” he asked, already knowing the answer.
“Lost,” Ensign Parker replied stoically. He watched a tear escape her eye. “Lost with all hands and nearly six hundred colonists.”
“Six… hundred…” he wheezed. The loss of life was staggering. He struggled to sit up and the ensign didn’t try to prevent him this time. He leaned over, looked out the window and saw they were currently flying over the Martian plains, likely headed for New Plymouth’s spaceport.
Below, he could see the wreckage of the Madera, strewn over a four mile long area. Fires and explosions peppered the wreckage and leaving little doubt that anyone could have survived.
He collapsed back in his bed, exhausted and felt his gut hollow out. He would find those pirate bastards and make every single one pay with their lives – especially the man who had shot him twice.
The ensign’s ArmBar chirped and she looked down at the incoming message. “It’s the Coalition. They’re on site and said they’d call if, or when they found something.”
Quick work, he thought to himself. Forensic tools had taken more than a few leaps forward in his lifetime, but he didn’t think they’d find something already. Hell, maybe they found a clue that could help track those bastards down.
He leaned over and tried to get a better view through the small porthole of what remained of his ship. What he saw was not encouraging. The Madera was scattered all over the Martian plain as they flew above the large swaths of wreckage strewn haphazardly across the red Martian soil. Just when Gonzalez thought that was all the wreckage left of his once proud ship, their rescue pod crested over a hill and he saw the death and destruction continue.
His rescue pod was flying close enough to the deck for him to see various emergency vehicles and rescue workers buzzing all over the wreckage in their Aerocycles (small single person flying craft that people used to get around with on Mars). He caught himself chewing the bottom of his lip as he crossed himself, looking down at the body bags that littered the side of the wreckage.
He heard Parker finish up the call with the Coalition and turned back towards the ensign. He noticed that Parker’s face was suddenly snow white.
“What did they say?” he demanded, “Did they find evidence of who sent the boarding party?”
“They did,” Parker said slowly. “They scanned the outside maintenance hatch and found the codes used to access the outside airlock.”
“Great!” he exclaimed, maybe he’d get to track down the bastards after all. “Whosever ArmBar codes were used to enter the ship should help us track down who authorized the attack.”
The ensign stood and reached for her ArmBar aiming it at the Captain. His eyes narrowed.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing ensign? Put your weapon down.”
“Sir, under UCC Coalition Military Justice Codes 1543, 1677 and 1899, I am arresting you in connection with conspiracy to capture a Coalition ship, piracy, treason and murder. Please relinquish your ArmBar, sir.”
He looked at the ensign in disbelief. “What on God’s green Earth are you talking about girl? You watched me take two rounds fighting those bastards off!”
“Sir, that’s for a judge to decide. Coalition investigators scanned the hatch you said they used and found that your codes were used to override that hatch.”
“That’s preposterous!” he shouted. “I demand…”
“Sir…” Parker said gently, “The record shows your DNA coder was used to unlock the hatch.”
He swallowed. That wasn’t possible, but if true, it was damning evidence. DNA coding was linked directly to the ArmBar every person in the Coalition wore. For higher profile individuals like ship captains such as himself, their ArmBars were encoded with the person’s specific DNA, meaning no one could operate, or ha
ck the person’s ArmBar without the original owner unlocking it and giving his full consent. If his DNA coding was what the boarding party used to get onboard his ship, he would have a hard time convincing anyone that he wasn’t involved.
“Captain Gonzalez, you are under arrest until such time you can face a Coalition judge and jury of your peers,” Parker said gently as she slid the captain’s ArmBar off his left forearm. “You have the right to remain silent at this time, and have a lawyer present when questioned by Coalition authorities. Do you understand your rights as I have described them to you?”
He didn’t respond. He just stared at the ensign, hardly believing his quick change in fortune. The rescue pod they found themselves in began its final descent to New Plymouth Spaceport.
“Sir?” Parker prompted, “I don’t…”
“Yes, goddammit, I understand them,” he snarled.
Ensign Parker sighed and opened the bottom drawer, withdrawing a security kit. She opened the kit and removed a set of plastic handcuffs and offered them to the captain. He put them on, and Parker gently zipped them shut.
The rescue pod landed with a thud and they were jostled slightly. The door slide open and three stone faced Coalition MPs stood behind holding their Gauss rifles. Ensign Parker stood and faced them.
“Captain Gonzalez has agreed to come quietly.”
The Coalition MPs moved to pick Gonzalez up off the bed much rougher than was necessary. He grimaced as a scalding blast of pain shot up his shoulder.
“Easy! The captain isn’t going anywhere. He’s also been shot twice now, so I want this man seeing the doc on the doubletime!” Parker looked at the rifles disapprovingly, “And those definitely won’t be necessary.”
The MPs looked at each other hesitantly before lowering their rifles and holstering them in the safe position. They moved to assist the elderly captain and move him onto the MedBay bed that was being wheeled into his rescue pod.
Usually it took a few hours for him to acclimate back to being on Mars, but this time, he was too dazed by the quick turn of events that had led to his arrest. He was supposed to be headed towards a comfortable retirement on a quiet patch of Martian soil. Not jail.
A short blonde woman, with closely cropped hair and bangs that lined the side of her face pushed through the crowd that had gathered around the Captain.
“Dad!” she cried out and threw herself on the bed. He clutched the woman closely stroking her blonde hair.
“Get yourself together Lieutenant,” he whispered, “I’m gonna need you to be strong.”
Her tear stained face looked up at him and suddenly she wasn’t the youngest Lieutenant Commander in the Coalition Space Forces anymore - she was his perfect little daughter who loved ballet and playing tea party with her father. At twenty eight years old, Sarah Gonzalez was practiced at hiding her feelings, but seeing her father like this had pushed the emotions through her training.
“What happened up there?” Sarah asked. “Tell me everything.”
The MPs looked at her sharply as they were escorting the Medbay bed through the dark underground halls of the New Plymouth Spaceport. “Commander, you are out of line. I’ve allowed you to see your father and check his condition. You need to return to your post.”
“But…” Sarah began to protest, but her father squeezed her wrist.
“Sarah, this is far too much for you right now. Keep your head down and we’ll talk when we get a chance.”
The MPs pushed Lieutenant Sarah Gonzalez aside and left her behind as they entered a secure doorway that undoubtedly led to the internal jail.
Sarah turned on her heel and moved down the hallway back towards the wreck of her father’s ship. Someone had set her father up, and she was going to find out who did it. All the shame and worry about her father had disappeared. She was going to convert all that energy into anger and revenge.
Sarah looked out the window of the New Plymouth Spaceport and at the wreck of her father’s ship clenching her jaw in determination. She was going to clear her father’s name, or die trying.
Other Books by RJ Johnson
Change in Management
Hi, thanks for checking out the short story Change in Management – The Curse is Cast. This was intended to be the prologue to the next book I’ve written that continues the adventures of Jim Meade, the Martian P.I.
With Change in Management, I decided to go back to Meade’s roots and find out why he became a private investigator. Here’s the synopsis of the next book for you to check out if you’d like to continue reading:
Murder, betrayal, the fate of humanity... it's all in a day's work for Jim Meade, Martian P.I.
In 2097 humanity is ruled by two major powers: The Consortium and Coalition. But Jim Meade is a Runabout - someone who doesn't care who’s running the show so long as he can earn his keep peacefully in the deadly Zero-G fights that keep the Martian colonists entertained on a nightly basis.
After one of his fights goes horribly wrong, Meade finds himself deep in debt to one of the most dangerous warlords on Mars. When a beautiful Coalition officer asks to help clear her father’s name, he seizes the opportunity to make some easy money.
However, Meade quickly finds out that he's entangled within a dark conspiracy that gets stranger at every turn and if he wants to survive the change in management, he'll need every ounce of wit, whiskey and guts he's got.
You can purchase a copy of Change in Management here
Not convinced? Here’s the first chapter…
Chapter One
The curly haired brunette woman pushed her way through the crowd of people standing in the doorway of the crowded arena. The sounds of a thousand different men and women all blended together into a dull roar that she could hear two blocks away. Inside, the place stank of stale beer, body odor and a combination of other more unpleasant smells. But that didn’t stop the miners (commonly known around New Plymouth as Moles) from packing inside the arena every night to watch the Zero-G fights.
The most popular sport on Mars, Zero-G fights had sprung up after the local warlords learned there were better ways to use the Higgs generators other than keeping humanity footing while reaching out to the stars. The warlords set up the popular no-holds-barred style of fighting after figuring out that the people loved watching their favorites battle it out in high gravity environments.
Higgs generators worked by affecting the local Higgs field (responsible for giving every particle in the universe its mass, and thus, the properties of gravity) within its range. Five concentric circles were placed within a ring with each of the smaller circles containing a patch of either high or low gravity depending on what round it was.
Gravity within the fighting circle varied from Zero-G all the way up to five times what someone would feel back on Earth. Fighters often used the gravity wells during their fights to make spectacular leaps and moves they wouldn’t normally be able to do while fighting each other in everyday gravity. During rounds with high gravity within the circles, they were often used as traps to pin opponents. Once a fighter found himself within a five plus G area in the fighting circle, it was nigh impossible for them to escape.
The Zero-G leagues were not for the faint of heart. The fights were brutal, hard and messy, with no rules and no set style of fighting. Everyone was welcome, and the pools of blood, teeth, sweat and tears on the canvas floor of the ring were testament to the fact that there was no shortage of men or women on Mars looking to prove how tough they were. Those who weren’t in peak physical condition and excellent fighters often did not survive to see their next match.
Emeline Hunan pushed her way through the crowd and looked down into the packed arena below. There, two fighters were warily circling each other during the last round of their fight. All five concentric circles inside the ring were alternating between flashing projections of Zero-G and Five-G gravity wells. The pair below had been fighting for the last fifteen minutes, and their faces demonstrated the results of the brutal punishmen
t they had been dishing out to each other.
She watched as the fighter in blue trunks retreated away from his opponent weaving his way through the gravity circles, adopting a defensive posture. She watched from a distance, knowing it was all over for the man in red shorts. The man in blue was forcing the fighter in red to follow the pattern of flashing 5-G circles.
Suddenly, the man in blue trunks stepped back into a Zero-G circle just as it flashed from 5G to Zero. He jumped impossibly high, nearly all the way up to the top of the arena. Placing his feet on the top of the cage twenty feet above his opponent, he pushed, dive bombing his opponent.
Caught unaware, the fighter in red was pushed hard into a 5G ring. The man’s body instantly bent in half, breaking the man’s back the second he crossed the threshold of the Higgs circle. The sound of breaking bones filled the arena as the crowd roared its approval for the Blue fighter’s daring maneuvers.
And just like that, the fight was over. The man in red couldn’t possibly recover from the grievous bodily injury he just suffered and the refs agreed with Emeline’s assessment. A horn sounded and the crowd exploded once again, some in protest, some in jubilation and the bookies hanging around the rail began paying off the various bets made on the match.
“Who’d you have sweetheart?” the voice had a rough, thick accent direct from the Homeworld. Emeline turned to look for the source and saw a squat, hairy man who had suddenly appeared next to her with his posse. They were slurping their beers and admiring her lithe dancer’s body.
Emeline ignored them and checked her ArmBar. A message had appeared from him.
WHERE ARE YOU?
Emeline closed the ArmBar and began moving towards the back of the arena. She was stopped before she could make her way past the mole who was still trying to chat her up, despite her obvious disinclination to engage with him. He caught her arm before she could get away.
