Infinity Is For Losers (Space Scout Book 2)

by Will Macmillan Jones

  No sooner was I in the tiny kitchen area about to pour water into the coffee maker when the proximity alert warning went ballistic. I dropped the coffee pot and ran back to the flight deck and turned on the vidscreens.

  The Black Ops Fleet was on the move. The warning had been triggered by the sheer volume of vessels leaving this otherwise unregarded planet, rather than an immediate threat to the Speedbird. What to do? My first instinct was to drop down to the surface of the moon, but the action of moving might draw the attention of the motion sensors on the nearest Black Ops scoutship, which I noticed was an unmarked Viper class scout. Had Starker managed to get his hands on the flotilla bought from the Emporium by The Free Union? That was food for thought, if not for the rest of me. I was again glad that I hadn’t eaten recently!

  It seemed to take an age for the Black Ops ships to gather themselves together and leave. I waited until the last ship had reached VH and transitioned into hyperspace before relaxing enough to go and get some food.

  Pre-packaged scoutship food is invariably constructed and designed to be healthy, nutritious, balanced and entirely without flavour. But it is better than nothing, so I ate some anyway. As the packs all taste the same and the principal difference is the label, I grabbed something at random and took it back to the flight deck to eat. This was of course against regulations and I reminded myself to give myself a good telling-off for it at some convenient moment.

  At least eating that gave me some enthusiasm for moving to the next stage of the mission. After all, even Starker was likely to feed me better than that if I was captured. Agreed, he would almost certainly have me brutally killed after the meal, but it was a risk worth taking after a few days of living off the supplied rations.

  I raised the volume on the comms channel and scanned all the frequencies available. One caught my attention, and I returned to it. Softly, gently, one frequency was playing ‘Take Five’, an old jazz standard, on repeat. I checked the mission documents, such as they were. That was the code! That was the code signal saying that it was safe to proceed to the landing zone. I powered up the engines and slipped around the moon, with all the instruments set to detect any unfriendly movement. The defence pods were active and scanning busily.

  Across the velvet sky lay the target planet, hanging like a bright jewel. Small glittering flares passed back and forth across the atmosphere, and I realised that the lights were local traffic, restricted to operating just within the atmospheric envelope. There seemed to be no space defences at all. Of course, this was a settled planet, entirely within the Imperium’s borders and unlikely to be targeted or reached by any hostile force. Except for me, of course.

  Trying not to project any hostility at all, I let the Speedbird fall into a standard re-entry trajectory. The temperature in the flight deck rose as we entered the atmosphere and for a moment became uncomfortable. Then slowly the heat began to dissipate and the airspeed fell back. I had successfully entered the atmosphere, and now sought the designated landing zone.

  Not even the comms channels seemed to take notice of my arrival, which was a little disturbing. It is terrible to have gained such a jaundiced outlook that you feel disturbed when nothing is going wrong; but it is also a great way to stay alive, I have found.

  As the Speedbird lost altitude, the ground became visible through the clouds, and some details started to emerge. This was a world of contrasts. Deserts and seas, green areas and hills; but there seemed to be no cities. No major installations of any kind. I checked the navcomm: we were on course to land at the designated site. When the rotation of the planet brought that into view, I was astonished. There was a landing ground, true. But apart from a few local light aircraft on the ground, there was no traffic and no control tower. I scanned the frequencies again, now feeling extremely wary. Some local chatter but nothing significant.

  The Speedbird entered final approach to the landing ground. I was so nervous that I couldn’t sit still in the pilot’s chair, and by the time the landing gear touched the ground, I had generated enough friction to cause a small – but intensely worrying – fire to start in the seat of my pants. I jumped up and jumped about, cursing and beating at the dangerous conflagration – finally I grabbed my almost empty cup of coffee and threw what was left over the affected area.

  “Ahhhhhhhhh,” I moaned in relief as the flames went out.

  “Ahhhhhhhhh,” I shouted as the pain from the hot liquid hit home.

  Being an interstellar scout pilot on a secret mission has many dangers, it has to be said.

  I turned the vidscreens to examine the location and sat back in the rather wet pilot’s seat in surprise. There were few other vehicles in the landing ground, but that was not what caused my surprise. There was a large, rather ornate wall with huge, ornate gates. Above the gates was a fading sign. I read the legend aloud.

  “Imperial Interstellar Repository of Exotic Creatures and Biological Specimens.”

  I was at the Imperium’s zoo! I’ve been on secret missions before. Most scout pilots have done some. I’ve had to land in odd, out of the way, places; hide behind asteroid belts from hostile forces; meet strange men and even stranger women in public places and public houses; this was the first time I had been sent to a zoo.

  I was quite excited. The most exotic beings I normally get to see are the serving staff in the canteen. A zoo would be an exciting change. Thinking of which, I needed to change. This flight suit was somewhat stained, and a bit charred…

  Ten minutes later, in my freshest clothing, I left the Speedbird and headed to the zoo gates. There was a guard, who was more interested in the sports pages of his paper, at the door. Without looking at me, he opened the entry gate with his foot.

  “Enjoy,” he grunted.

  “Thanks,” I told him. He didn’t even look up to see that someone in a Free Union flight suit was entering what should be considered a secure facility of the Imperium. The gate banged shut behind me. I jumped in alarm, but the guard was sublimely uninterested in my presence. I wandered off down a short corridor. At the end was a concourse. Ideally, there should have been concessions selling food, drinks, and tacky souvenirs. I would have settled even for a guide to the exhibits. Obviously there had once been such things, but all the stands and shops were closed. I rubbed dirt from one shop window and tried to stare inside. The interior of the shop was so dark that I could see nothing, although I did catch a glimpse of movement in one corner. I could see nothing to tempt me into the empty shop though, so I strolled further into the zoo. On the floor was a torn and discarded leaflet printed in gaudy colours and announcing a whole range of attractions and exhibits. I looked eagerly at it, then sadly up and around at my surroundings. Like it or not, it was clear that this facility had been abandoned, at least as any sort of tourist attraction.

  Were there any exhibits though? At least there was little doubt that I would recognise my contact. It was clear that he and I were likely to be sharing the entire facility on our own. Apart of course, from any remaining specimens. The leaflet had the partially damaged remains of a map of the zoo. With some difficulty, I managed to locate the entrance and the concourse. Where exactly my contact would be waiting I didn’t know. Presumably he would find me. While I was waiting, I might as well have a look around.

  The map had lost the index that described the exhibits and the pens were numbered rather than named.

  “Eeny, meeny, miny, mo!” I said aloud, pointing at the various possible routes off the concourse. At ‘mo’ I was pointing at a wide avenue that led off to the left. Shrugging, I followed it. Weeds sprouted from the gravel walk, and the verges were overgrown. Clearly, whatever maintenance still worked did not extend to the paths.

  After a brief time, I reached the first enclosure. Chain link fencing, flecks of white paint still evident through the rust, surrounded an inner barrier of some sort of see-through plastic. Inside the enclosure was an expanse of what seemed to be a green moss, dotted with quite large stones.

  I cou
ld see no creatures inside the pen at all. I stared hopefully for some time, but nothing moved. Sadly, fearing that the enclosures might all be empty, I moved on to the next exhibit. Here there was still the rusting chain link barrier, over which I stepped easily. The transparent barrier was much, much higher though and I was intrigued to note that it was a double barrier. Clearly whatever had been kept here was considered quite dangerous. Inside the enclosure the ground was sandy, or maybe stony. Here too occasional large rocks waited with glacial patience for the end of time itself. I looked over the whole of the enclosure. Nothing. But as I turned away, there was a flicker of movement at the corner of my eye.

  “Wow. There is something alive in there after all.”

  I turned and now stared closely through the screen. One of the rocks was moving!

  Rather than hear speech, I felt words form inside my head.

  -Warm, squishy. Want. Hot, hot, blood. Want. Hungry. –

  Well, that was friendly as a start!

  -Come closer, hot squishy. Come closer. –

  I looked deeply into the enclosure, but could see nothing. The rock that had, well rocked, now was still. Was the exhibit hiding there?

  -Come closer, you know you want to. Come to me. –

  Without realising, I had stepped forward until my nose touched the outer barrier. The words now filled my head, enticing and encouraging. I pressed against the perspex. There was a flash, a crackle of electricity and other forces as something, I have no idea what, struck the inner barrier right in front of my face and was repelled, thrown back violently.

  My head filled with a silent scream of pain, coated with frustration and anger. I stepped away from the barrier and suddenly realised that I had been attacked by whatever remained in that enclosure.

  -Hot, squishy, I am hungry. –

  The words continued, fading plaintively as I walked quite quickly away from that exhibit.

  The next enclosure contained some foliage and a depressed looking goat. It turned its head and stared at me in a melancholy fashion. I confess to some fellow feeling for the poor animal, but moved along. The path curved around to the right, and I followed it. Behind me, the goat gave one plaintive bleat.

  I looked around the corner and could again see no one waiting for me. There were another few enclosures waiting for my inspection, again built to the same basic design. A chain link fence surrounded each enclosure as a guide to the visitors to keep a safe distance, then came transparent screens and finally the enclosure: designed in each case, I had to assume, to mimic the home terrain of the exhibit.

  Peering through the screens around the next enclosure gave me a view into what seemed to be a garden world. Trees, carefully selected to grow no higher than the barrier screens, had been planted in abundance. Strange plants wound around their trunks, and bizarre flowers bloomed from gnarled and knotted stems. Again, I could see no life forms. Then, as I stood still, several of the nearest flowers moved, and turned their heads towards me. With a shiver, I realised that these plants were both carnivorous, and aware of my presence. One plant spat something at me: whatever it was hit the barrier screen, and fizzled wildly. I strongly suspected that whatever it had spat was unpleasant, to say the least.

  “Missed!” I called out cheerfully. Many more plants turned towards me, and I moved along hastily. I was no longer so willing to classify a seemingly empty pen as actually devoid of any exhibit.

  The next enclosures came as a surprise. All three had been constructed to show a typical family room from some of the Galaxy’s different races. There was a Rigellian tree home, a Klingon desert sand home and a large pool that might, or might not, be intended to represent the home ocean of one of the aquatic civilisations. But the final room came as a surprise. It was a human room from one of the many star systems that supported human life. And the room was not empty. However, my cry of greeting fell on deaf ears for I quickly decided that the people inhabiting the exhibit were not real, but marionettes or robots, constructed and devised to represent a version of a civilisation from the vanished past.

  Images and symbols from the Imperial era adorned the walls and the ‘man of the house’ figure wore a fading Imperial Uniform. I watched the fake family for some time, filled with a sense of both awe and nostalgia, which quickly turned to boredom.

  Then I heard the sound of feet crunching on the gravel path. These feet were not meandering aimlessly, as I had been, but walking towards me with a firm, steady tread. I looked around frantically: there was only one place to conceal myself. Without a second thought, I crossed the rusting chain link fence, vaulted over the low perspex barrier, and entered the tableau. The robots ignored me and I slipped into a seat at the table and tried to look inconspicuous.

  From the inside, the perspex security barrier was translucent rather than transparent. I tried not to stare as the security guard from the gate walked steadily past the exhibit, but I did breathe a sigh of relief as he moved away. Then the ‘man of the house’ marionette spoke to me and I nearly died from fright.

  “He won’t be back for a while. Are you Captain Richards?”

  I tried to shove my overloaded heart back into its correct slot in my body. Speech was beyond me, so I just nodded. What I had assumed to be a robot, obviously wasn’t.

  “I’m your contact.”

  “You work for Starker?”

  “The Colonel? Yes. And for your boss, too, on occasion. Now I’m not hanging about any longer. I’ve one word for you. Twelve.”

  “Twelve?”

  “That’s it. Whatever you do, don’t forget it. I’ve risked my life to tell you that.”

  “You’ve risked your life to tell me the number twelve?”

  He froze. “They are coming. They are coming. I’m off. Run!”

  I was bemused. But in fact, the agent’s hearing was just a bit better than mine. As he vaulted over the barrier and fled down the weed encrusted gravel path that led deep into the facility, I could hear the sound of several people running. Wildly I looked around. There were some doors set in the walls of the exhibit. I wasted valuable time trying them – none of them opened. Either they were locked, or fake. Obviously staying here was a non-starter, so I followed the agent who had run now out of sight. I couldn’t blame him.

  Colonel Starker’s men were gaining on me. The path was wide, but it turned and twisted through the pens and enclosures, preventing them from getting a clear sight – or shot - of me. Panting, I realised I wasn’t going to outrun them. The next pen had a low protective wall and some bushes that would provide cover. Without bothering to wonder what was kept in there, or how hungry it might be, I jumped the wall and dived head first into the bushes.

  Peering through the fronds and foliage, I watched as five men, clad in black flight suits and all heavily armed, ran past. I waited until they had gone a good distance, then pushed out of the foliage. A low, rumbling growl came from behind me, and something with dreadfully sharp teeth grabbed at my ankle, the teeth sinking into the boot I was wearing.

  I pulled hard, not wanting to see what it was that was trying to eat my foot. The whole boot came free with an awful ripping noise, and I stumbled forward. Another growl from nearby. Terrified, I fled for the path and leapt over the wall. Teeth snapped at my retreating legs, but missed. Once over the wall I looked back. A great rule for life is this: when running away, don’t look back. It wastes valuable energy that is better used for keeping your legs going as fast as you can. The whole pen was suddenly alive with six legged things that looked a bit like alligators. One was waving the remains of my left boot in triumph, before swallowing it with every appearance of pleasure. I hope he enjoyed it: and that my footwear choked his small intestines and he died. Whatever the things were, I didn’t care if they were endangered. So was I. Cursing, I limped off back towards the entrance with one boot and a rapidly fraying sock.

  I was about to cross the wide concourse when caution suddenly got the better of me. I shrank back against the wall and looked carefu
lly at every possible hiding place. There. Near the empty shop I had examined earlier, was a dark figure. One of Starker’s men and almost certainly armed to the teeth. I had only a small hand blaster. At this range, or to be truthful almost any range, I would probably miss. He waited quietly, patiently. A professional. I waited, fidgeting and nervous and trying hard not to breathe too loudly. This was an impasse, and I didn’t know how to solve it.

  Fortunately, I didn’t need to. A volley of shots rang out on the other side of the concourse.

  “There he is!” shouted one of Starker’s men.

  I jumped instinctively.

  “Try and take him alive!”

  That sounded good.

  “The Colonel wants a long session with him!”

  That sounded very, very bad. Firing broke out again, and the lurking Black Ops operative left his hiding place and ran to help out his fellows. Muffling a glad cry, I bolted for the exit. As I reached the corridor that led to freedom, I heard a lot more shouting and several shots nearly interfered with my personal space. I accelerated down the corridor towards the gates.

  The security guard dropped his paper and left his booth in an attempt to stop my progress through the rusty and wide-open exit gate. But I had been chased, bitten, shot at and generally terrified. No overweight and out of condition guard was going to stop my escape! A couple of quick punches and I was past him and free. My trusty Speedbird was there on the landing ground, and I kept running. I might be out of condition myself, but adrenaline and terror combined can keep me going for longer than you might reasonably expect. When one of Starker’s men burst out of the zoo gates, firing wildly at me, I found an inner reserve of energy and kept going, bending over to make a smaller target. This was, I confess, a rather undignified exit, but frankly I didn’t care.

  I was just very happy to reach the Speedbird, clamber inside, and lock the hatch. Within moments I had reached the flight deck and was lifting off, away from this cursed planet.