Rebuilt: A Jake Dani/Mike Shapeck Novel (Jake Dani / Mike Shapeck)

by Victory Crayne

  Our guide stopped us about two miles from our SUV and pointed. In the distance, I could see a dozen or so screechies running around a bunch of bones. Last night's dinner probably. A few screamed at each other in arguments.

  One of the screechies must have spotted us because he let out one of their famous screeches and headed toward us.

  Then the nightmare started.

  The others quickly joined in. Others joined from my left side.

  “Get ready. Here they come,” said Jeekan. “Keep an eye out for others on all sides. There could be more of them out here.”

  This was it. Kill or be killed.

  “Hold your fire until I say so, or you'll waste ammo. This clan is big. We may need all our shots.”

  If he was trying to scare us, he succeeded.

  Andy was the one who'd paid for this safari, so we let him aim ahead. Ron stood next to him.

  Per our arrangement, Jeekan and I stood back to back and kept our eyes on the surrounding grass and shrubs, with frequent glances in the direction of our attackers.

  Our guide was a brave son of a bitch and said, “Hold your fire.”

  He let them get about fifty yards away before he said calmly, “Shoot when ready.”

  Andy and Ron's rifles burst into rapid fire and I saw five of the bastards fall. That didn't stop the other twenty or so or even slow them down. I lowered my rifle and pulled my shotgun from the strap over my other shoulder. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jeekan doing the same.

  At the rate the lead screechie was running, he'd be on us in about three seconds, but his head disappeared and he fell.

  The next few seconds were a blur of gunshots and smoke. All four of us cut a swath in the middle of the approaching pack.

  I think we emptied our guns before the screeching stopped.

  Six of the two-legged bastards ran away. The ground was covered in blood and brown fur, as well as a few little bodies.

  It was over but I don't think my heart slowed down for a long time.

  Chapter 9

  I have no idea when I finally dropped off. But the next morning I took a shower and ate a breakfast of scrambled eggs, toast, and coffee. I put on my gray business suit with thin blue stripes and left my room. Despite the pain in my legs, it felt good to walk the halls on my own. I’d have to get used to the pain.

  Once outside the Rejuvenation Center, the first thing I noticed was the wind. It was winter in southern California and the wind blew chilly. I hailed an automated cab to the Orange County airport. It was nice to travel without luggage. Acorn had said he’d send the rest of my things on the next transport. On Rossa, I’d use the clothes in the ops center.

  At the airport, I used my comm to show my ticket and hopped on a commuter plane to LAX. There I went straight to the International Terminal. Not much had changed there. Of course, it was only a few months ago that I had landed at the same airport.

  I headed toward the gate of the sub-orbital flight to the Space Elevator at Macapa, Brazil. I passed several gates where families sat in rows of seats. Children ran around the chairs, which were attached in long lines of maybe a dozen seats. I smiled as I saw the kids trying to run off their energy.

  My destination was on the end and as I passed several kids, a little boy crashed into my legs. He looked up at me with wide open eyes. I must have seemed like a giant to him. In seconds his mother appeared in a pink and white-striped shirt-dress.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  She jerked the little boy’s arm and yelled at him.

  “Benny, I told you to stay by the rest of us!”

  With that she hauled the boy away. He looked back at me and I gave him a “finger gun” by pulling my right thumb down over my extended first finger while mouthing the word “bang.” He smiled. Somebody was playing with him.

  I proceeded to the counter at my gate and the gal in the blue uniform informed me, “You may board at any time, sir.” She indicated with her hand to her left and I trekked in that direction. After displaying my ticket on my comm, I lumbered along the long but narrow ramp and stooped to enter the plane.

  Then I climbed the wide spiral ramp to one of the upper floors. For a few seconds, I wondered why a ramp, then I thought of the many senior citizens and others who had to use wheelchairs.

  I was glad mine was one of the larger seats in business class. Every time I flew tourist, I had to squeeze myself into a seat. One time I dropped a plastic spoon. There was no way I could bend over and search for it. I had to eat the rest of my meal without the spoon.

  At least here in business class, I got some leg room. The food was better too. Not peanuts, crackers, and bottled water, but a hot meal of chicken, mashed potatoes, vegetables of my choice, and a fruit salad. Oh yeah, they offered wine and hard stuff but I took water instead.

  On the long flight, I memorized the details on the file on Mike Shapeck. I might have to answer some questions and it would not do to hesitate. Reading and memorizing my “cover” took four hours. During that time, I imagined I was being interrogated.

  When I finished, I laid my head back and took a short nap.

  As my plane approached the Aeroport Internacional de Macapa, I woke up to look out the window on the left side of the plane and saw the blinking lights on the space elevator.

  The long tube of the space elevator rose from the ground two-fifths of a mile from the runway where my plane headed. From my window I could not see the other end of the elevator in outer space but the chain of lights passed up to the clouds. I thought I could see dim lights for the first few feet inside the clouds.

  I avoided eating lunch at the airport as Acorn said I shouldn’t since I was going on the fast method of traveling and might experience vertigo.

  Frankly, I did not look forward to the whole thing. Acorn had told me about his drowning on his fast flights to and from Rossa but even after that, the idea disturbed me. I’d have to breathe a liquid solution so my body could endure the high acceleration to the Solar Jump Gate at the Martian L-4 Lagrange Point. Without the liquid to breathe, my lungs would end up squished and I’d be dead.

  No thanks. Being dead once was enough.

  When I showed my ticket to one of the scanners in the lobby, out popped a small card, as thin as the old-fashioned credit cards but a little large, maybe three inches on a side. It showed a map of the interior of the airport and the way to the tunnel leading to the space elevator. I used the card as a guide. When I made a wrong turn, the edges of the card flashed red and a big red “X” appeared in the image. A correct turn showed a green light on the upper right while the card displayed the path ahead. In real time too. I noticed some of the folks coming towards me gazed on a similar card.

  I took the tunnel and got on its automatic walkway. When I got to the space elevator, I went through the security checkpoint. Not having any luggage helped.

  When I got to the other end on Rossa, I hoped to get a Snap and holster. I felt naked without them.

  I checked in at the gate and waited in the small lounge area. At least fifty seats stretched in six rows. Most of the seats were taken and I selected one next to a portly fellow. I wondered how he’d feel when we arrived. A big belly indicated weak muscles.

  My wait wasn’t long when a female in uniform said, “You can board the elevator now.”

  The other passengers got up and walked through the door. I followed.

  We took seats in an elevator cab, fastened our seat belts, and the woman closed the door and sealed it.

  On the monitors in front of us, I could read the safety instructions on how to unbuckle my seat beat and use it as a flotation device when in the water. I’d seen that vid many times. Thank God viewing it was an option. Damn thing was boring after the second time.

  We waited for another two minutes before I felt pressure forcing me down into the seat as the cab rose in the air. Through the windows, I saw the Space Port recede below us and a sleek jet as it descended to the ground. As we rose, I made out several mo
re jets as they prepared to land, making a trail that stretched out over the ocean to the east.

  Chapter 10

  As the ground slipped below, I thanked the engineers for cutting the trip to an hour. I watched the telly on the monitor on the back of the seat in front of me. More news. I pressed a button and watched a short movie instead.

  When we got to the top, our arms floated. Without seat belts, I’m sure we would have become a tangled mess of humans.

  It took only a second to unfasten mine. Using the handrails provided, I pulled myself along to the door marked “Fast Travel.” Most of the others in my cab went through the door marked “Regular Travel.”

  Three others joined me as we floated along the corridor. My name flashed on the monitor as I floated by. Good ol’ biometrics.

  Not knowing how soon I’d get drowned, my heartbeat rose. We waited in a small room with padded chairs and seat belts.

  From the seats, we watched a vid of the procedure.

  “This is safe. Four thousand travelers have used this method and only two failed to make it. Both died of heart attacks before immersion in the liquid.”

  The mention of heart attacks reminded me what my boss said.

  “We’ve placed heart monitors in your suit and anyone who has a weak heart won’t be allowed to go through the procedure. So it’s safe.”

  Since I had never used the fast method of travel, I paid close attention.

  In five minutes, a man in a blue uniform of the Space Force came out a door. He pointed to me and waved his finger for me to follow him.

  This was it.

  I stood and floated through the door.

  A man held an injector in his hand as I approached him.

  “Roll up your left sleeve, please.”

  I came to a full stop in front of him and held onto a vertical bar. I put my right arm through a large loop, unbuttoned my shirt sleeve, and rolled it up.

  “This sedative will help you relax,” he said just before he pressed the applicator over the vein in my left arm.

  In ten seconds I felt my mind blur. I didn’t really care what happened to me.

  “You can change in there,” said the man as he pointed to a door.

  I let go of the bar and floated over to the door. When I opened it, I saw a tiny room with a bench seat. I swear an old-fashioned phone booth like the ones I had seen in old movies had as much room.

  A flashing white sign on one wall said, “Please take off all your clothes.”

  I closed the door for privacy and stripped to my birthday suit. In the locker provided, I placed my shirt, pants, and jacket. On the floor of the locker, I put my shoes, socks, and underwear and slid the box under my other clothes. Not easy without gravity. I had to push on the walls.

  Wondering what I was supposed to change into, I opened the locker with the title “jump suit,” where I found a black one-piece rubber suit. It looked way too small and I thought of asking for a larger one.

  I read the instructions displayed on the wall on how to put on the suit. But getting the stupid thing on was another story. Getting my arms into the small slits was easy compared to lifting them and pulling the rest of the rubber outfit up. Fortunately, the inside of the suit was coated with a felt-like surface.

  It fit tight as hell as I pulled it up over my feet, legs, and hips. It had rubber booties for my feet.

  Maybe I could afford to lose a few pounds.

  I zipped up the front of the suit. My head and hands were the only things exposed as I opened the door and pushed myself out.

  A sign said, “If you are a male, place your organ in the hole. If you are a female, place the tube close to your urinating opening. You can use this to drain your bladder during your flight.”

  A man held a matching black rubber cap out and I pulled it over my head. He pressed the edge of the cap around my neck and it sealed automatically.

  He said, “Gotta make sure you don’t have a leak.”

  The cap allowed my mouth, nose, and eyes to be exposed.

  “Nod if you can you hear me,” came a voice into my ears.

  I nodded.

  The other guy said, “Good.” He wore beige rubber gloves as he attached a drain to my male organ.

  A flashing light lit up on a white background in front of me. “Put on gloves.”

  I pulled the gloves from the racks and put them on. The cuffs closed automatically around the ends of the sleeves of my rubber suit.

  “We’re done, Mr. Shapeck. You go forward now.”

  I managed despite the extra padding in my groin from the diaper.

  Must be what a baby feels like.

  I floated behind the bot until he stopped in front of a cage, in a row of three other cages. He had no lower body and used a rail to slide on.

  “Have a seat,” he said as he pointed to the bench inside the cage.

  I went in, sat, and used the seatbelt to secure myself. The cage elongated and I found my legs stretched “beneath” me.

  He closed the door on the cage and twisted something up. I couldn’t see what it was from my position.

  Soon, water, or some such liquid, flushed in from holes in my cage. The liquid soon flooded the insides of my cage and I fought to get out, but there was no escaping.

  Naturally, I held my breath and squeezed my eyes shut. It’s not every day you get drowned.

  Claustrophobia pressed in on me. I grabbed the bars of the cage and strained.

  “Relax, Mr. Shapeck. It will be over in less than a minute,” said a male voice in his ear.

  But I held on.

  “Let it go, Mr. Shapeck. When you take in a breath, you may cough a little. You’ll feel disoriented for a few seconds. Then you’ll find you can breathe the liquid. A thousand people have gone through this and lived just fine.”

  I held out for as long as I could, maybe half a minute. Then I expelled the air and coughed as I drowned.

  Then a surprise happened.

  I could breathe.

  Chapter 11

  It was harder than breathing air but it worked. Per my uncle’s instructions, the worst part of the trip was over.

  I opened my eyes. Whatever they used as a liquid didn’t affect my vision. I wondered about that, then realized the liquid must match the density of the fluid in my eyeballs.

  Then a bot slid into my view. He pulled a cover down over my face.

  When I had taken maybe twenty breaths, my cage tilted backwards and lay flat. I focused on breathing and getting through this with my hands gripping bars. Soon I saw the other cages, each in a slot one above the other. Mine was the lowest one in the stack. I had no choice in the matter.

  In front of me was a monitor. From the vid recording, I knew I was in my final flight position for the duration. My ship would travel from an orbit above Earth to the L-4 Lagrange Point sixty degrees ahead of Mars in its orbit around Sol.

  I saw a row of buttons alongside the monitor. One of them showed how to feed myself at the specified times. The menu consisted of different flavors of shakes, each containing the electrolytes my body would need over the next twelve hours. At the bottom of the screen was a message.

  “You can urinate at any time. Just let it go.”

  A clock on the wall above the monitor counted down. When it got to zero, I felt pressure on my backside and was glad I laid flat.

  We were on our way.

  The trip lasted for hours and I soon learned that it helped to lay my arms by my sides. From the monitor, I learned we traveled at twenty gees. From my reading, I had learned that jet pilots often blacked out at nine gees when breathing air. No wonder my arms felt heavy.

  As instructed, I used my gaze to select options on the monitor.

  The first thing I read was a book titled Five Generations by Rodney Unger. Even though I had finished the book years before, it seemed new to me.

  The premise of the nonfiction book was that every five generations some old fashions were repeated. By then, most folks had forgotten
the lessons of the past. That part I remembered.

  I changed pages by looking at the lower right corner’s “Page Down” button. I wondered if there was a similar “Page Up” button and found it. Unfortunately, the monitor showed the previous page and I had to look at the “Page Down” button twice.

  After I finished the book, I watched several movies. Breathing the liquid was more tiring than I expected and I frequently dozed off.

  Then I’d wake to an alarm ringing.

  “Snack time,” showed on the screen.

  The first time this happened, I looked on the inside of my cage and found a coiled thin tube. A vid on the monitor showed how to feed myself.

  The clear plastic cover over my face made it impossible to use my hand. So I twisted my head and put my lips around the small tube.

  Nothing came out and I wondered why. A message flashed on my monitor.

  “Select a flavor by speaking or moving the pointer with your right index finger.”

  I wiggled my index finger and saw the pointer shake.

  A list came up and I spoke. My speech sounded slurred to my ears, and I marked that up to the high acceleration.

  “Chocolate.”

  “Put your lips on the tube.”

  I did. Not bad tasting either. Could use more malt but I was hungry so suck and swallow I did.

  Halfway through my journey to the Jump Gate, my weight dropped to zero as we flipped over. I took the opportunity to flex my arms. The engines fired again. My body soon pressed against my backside as before so I dropped my arms.

  We slowed down so we’d arrive at the gate with zero velocity. From the vid, I learned fast travelers like me would skip the visit to the space wheel located about a million miles from the gate and another million miles from us. That wheel rotated to keep a constant 1.15 gees on the inside perimeter to help visitors get used to the gravity of Rossa. Visitors could buy souvenirs or eat there. For those who would stay overnight, several hotels provided private rooms.

  I uttered commands and selected a vid of the hotel rooms. They were small. Space must be tight on the wheel.