Four Tomorrows: A Space Opera Box Set

by James Palmer

  Exiting the elevator, he glanced both directions for any sign of the admiral. He did not see him. However, he could hear footsteps echoing farther down the hall to his left so he started off in the direction of the sound, hoping it was the right direction.

  Rounding the corner he saw the admiral.

  McKeen was standing in the corridor, having been stopped in the corridor by three people that were clearly not military. Jeffries wondered how they had gotten onto the level without security clearance.

  The admiral was talking to a beautiful young woman that Jeffries assumed was in her late twenties to early thirties. She was asking the admiral all sorts of questions, which the admiral was attempting to answer.

  Two rather large gentlemen who appeared less than pleasant accompanied her. And they were slowly edging around the admiral as the inquisitive girl distracted his attention.

  Something about the whole situation seemed off to Lt. Jeffries. It was nothing he could put his finger on, but something wasn’t quite right either. What could possibly be wrong? he wondered, but chalked it up to his being tired and in unfamiliar surroundings. Preferring to exercise the better part of valor, Jeffries decided to leave the admiral and his companions alone. He turned to leave, heading back in the direction he had come.

  That’s when he heard a loud thud. A sound similar to a body hitting hard metal.

  Like a bulkhead.

  Doing an about face in mid-stride, Lt. Jeffries ran around the corner at full speed. A cursory glance told him that the loud thud had been one of the two men landing on the metal floor.

  He hit hard too and wasn’t moving.

  Unfortunately though, the other two people were moving.

  The admiral deflected a swing from the man still standing. The block, although successful, left him open to the young woman, who took complete advantage of the opportunity. With a judo kick, she doubled the admiral over in pain as a well placed kick landed square in the older man’s mid-section.

  Against two opponents the admiral found it rather hard to catch his bearings, but he was trying valiantly to put up a fight. Lucky for him that was the moment the Calvary arrived in the form of Lt. Melvin Jeffries.

  Jeffries dove through the air and tackled the big guy, the two of them crashing to the hard metal deck. The lieutenant positioned himself to land on his opponent and let the larger man take the worst of the impact. They landed awkwardly, a jumble of hands and legs, fighting all the way to the deck.

  The girl returned her attention to the admiral, who had finally gotten to his feet.

  “Silly me,” he said, wiping a trickle of blood from his lower lip. “I was watching the guys. I should have been keeping an eye on you.”

  “That’s right, old timer.”

  “A mistake I won’t make again.”

  “That’s mighty presumptuous.”

  McKeen flashed her a smile. “Call me an optimist.”

  His opponent planted her feet, ready to fight. McKeen recognized the move and prepared for the attack. She was well trained, but so was he.

  “Who are you?” he asked, hoping to throw off her concentration.

  Without answering she kicked again.

  This time the admiral was ready for her. Feinting left while telegraphing a right move, her kick missed. Catching her off guard, the admiral grabbed her leg and twisted. The girl went down hard on the steel deck.

  McKeen held her fast, placing a knee on her back to keep her from attacking further. She let out a long string of curses.

  “Such language,” the admiral chided sarcastically.

  His attacker neutralized, the admiral allowed a second to look in on Lieutenant Jeffries. He watched as the lieutenant deftly executed a splendid roundhouse kick, which he followed up with a punch to the assailant’s jaw.

  The man fell.

  Very well done, the admiral had to admit.

  “Boy, Lieutenant,” he said through a deep breath. “Am I glad to see you.”

  “Admiral,” Jeffries said with a nod, which he regretted instantly as the corridor began to spin. “Are you alright, sir?”

  “Yes, Mr. Jeffries,” he answered between deep breaths. He let out another deep breath. “Thanks to you. I owe you one.”

  “Just remember this come promotion review, sir.” He laughed as he watched the admiral struggle to maintain his hold on his struggling prisoner.

  Pulling a hand held comm unit from his jacket pocket, Jeffries placed a call to the bridge. At least that was the plan. Before he could flip the call button he noticed the attack out of the corner of his eye.

  The new assailant came out of nowhere, moving so fast that Lt. Jeffries was only vaguely aware of him until it was too late.

  The admiral moved to help his comrade, but was not fast enough. The hilts of a hand held blaster pistol lashed across his face, striking the flesh and bone side of his face. Thrown clear of his prisoner by the impact, the admiral landed awkwardly on the deck.

  He was down, but not out.

  His attacker was startled at the speed with which the older man quickly rolled away from the attack, only to land once more on his feet in no time and ready to continue. He was winded, but otherwise none the worse for wear. The older man’s reputation was clearly earned.

  He started to make his move when the attacker pointed the business end of the blaster pistol at him.

  “Ah, ah, ah,” the owner of the pistol said. “Stand down, Admiral.”

  Not a stupid man, McKeen knew when he had been beaten. “Damn.” He muttered loud enough so all of the people in the corridor could hear. It would probably have been more effective if they were all conscious and not lying on the floor like piled up sacks of wheat. “This is turning out to be a real crappy day.”

  His assailant smiled.

  “And this is only the beginning for you, Admiral, sir.”

  McKeen stared at his enemy, hate burning in his dark eyes.

  “Your long night is just beginning, old man.”

  21

  Alliance Starship Pegasus

  Captain Virginia Harmon heard the echo of her footsteps against the corridor walls.

  When the pulses began pounding against the outer hull of the Starship Pegasus, her Captain had braced herself at the controls and plowed forward, unaware of the damage the radiation bursts were causing her ship and quite possibly her crew.

  Or if she had been aware, it might look as if she did not particularly care.

  Of course, this was not the case. Far from it. The captain knew full well the consequences of her actions. Despite the fact that she had not actually sat in the Pegasus’ command chair, she was familiar with the rules of command. The moment the danger presented itself, Harmon’s budding insecurities vanished, replaced by the experiences of her previous assignments.

  At her command, the Pegasus had forged ahead toward Space Lab. The fact that they were too late to be of help mattered little. The effort had been made. The captain made a difficult decision and followed it through. She had taken up the challenge and lost.

  All of these thoughts raced unbidden through Captain Harmon’s mind as she ran headlong down the corridor of her ship. In command for less than a day and I’ve already damn near destroyed my ship.

  “Hell of a way to start a career.” She said aloud, not really caring at this point who heard her. Her days as a Captain were surely numbered. The UPA would have to be crazy to give her another ship.

  The damn things were too expensive.

  All of these thoughts raced through her mind at breakneck speed in her own voice. Continuously replaying the events of the day over and over again in her mind’s eye, she wondered what would have happened if she had responded differently.

  Nothing.

  Funny thing, the thought was not delivered in her own voice, but that of Franklin Thorne. The thought of her mentor pushed little things that he had taught her to the fore. One of those lessons that had been drilled into her was not to second-guess ones self.

&
nbsp; “That way leads to self destruction,” the voice of Franklin Thorne said in deep monotone.

  She tried to stay positive, but it was difficult under the circumstances. There were many things that a starship captain should be doing during a crisis. She could send out a distress hail or assist the engineering teams with repairs. She could see to the few casualties aboard her ship or she could be figuring out just what she would say to the military tribunal when her court marshal begins.

  She could have been doing any of these things or a dozen other important things.

  At the moment, however, she could care less what she should be doing.

  If she had to do it all again, she would. There were lives at stake, lives that were depending on the decisions she would make in the moments to come. Not just for the space station survivors, but for the crew of the Pegasus. Her crew. The job was not finished yet.

  Not by a long shot.

  “Bridge,” she called to the empty hallway. “Are we ready yet?”

  Lt. Ronald Andersen’s voice filled the length of the hallway. At the captain’s request, he had opened the communication’s array to the entire ship so that she could stay in constant contact with the Bridge, the heart of the sleek ship.

  “We are at go, Captain,” he replied, his voice echoing loudly down the corridor.

  “Have you found my exec yet?”

  “Negative. I’ve inquired after him several times, but still no response. No one seems to have any knowledge of his whereabouts. I’m at a loss to explain it, Captain. I don’t know where else to look.”

  “Damn,” she cursed. “Where is he? He’s a licensed pilot. I could use that expertise right now, dammit! It would make this easier.”

  “Could he have left the ship before we departed from Bridger’s space dock?” The communication’s officer asked.

  “I doubt it. I would have been notified by Bridger security. At the very least, I would have been alerted to any unauthorized departures from the ship.” She stopped at an intersecting corridor to catch her breath, still wearing her workout gear from her earlier exercise session in the Pegasus’ gymnasium. Her uniform jacket was her only official article of clothing. She had felt foolish about it earlier, but now that she was running, the workout suit was a more valuable asset than her uniform slacks.

  Despite appearances to the contrary.

  “Keep trying, Mr. Andersen,” she said after a momentary breather. “I’ll be in touch.”

  And with that she was off, once again running down the open corridor at a full run.

  Usually, Engineering was a place of peace and contentment.

  The gentle, rhythmic thrum of the engines was hypnotic enough to soothe even the most savage of beasts. It was that serenity that had made Harold Thomas become an engineer. He wanted more than anything else to be a cog in the great machine. Engineering was one of the few places where he truly felt alive and whole. He felt as much at home in Engineering as a captain did on the bridge of a starship.

  On a normal day, everything was peaceful and serene in his world of propulsion coils and pulsing engines.

  Today had been anything but normal for the crew of the Pegasus.

  Smoke filled the entire section from the micro burst explosions caused by the feedback radiation pulses that struck the ship only minutes earlier. As Chief Engineer, Harry Thomas was everywhere. The staff looked to him for answers. Unfortunately, all he had were questions.

  Lots of them.

  The engineering staff consisted mostly of inexperienced officers and trainees. Most of the skeleton crew on station were all busy attending to the small fires or were working feverishly to repair the damage to the vessel they had all hoped to call home for a few years.

  Waving the smoke from his face with his long sinewy fingers, Harry unsuccessfully tried to re-engage the main engines one more time. His third such attempt since terminating communications with the bridge moments before. Each try had ended with the same sad result.

  The ship was dead in the water.

  A floating paper weight in space.

  Well, not floating exactly. More like falling.

  The low gravity of Earth’s lone moon began pulling on the relatively small vessel as soon as all forward momentum had ceased. If the engines were not restarted soon the Pegasus could end its all too brief tour of duty by crashing into, and thereby destroying the moon’s main colony.

  Alpha Colony was a major city, its population numbering in the millions.

  Harry uttered a loud curse as the engines continued their blatant refusal to cooperate. He tapped the function keys one more time, praying that this time they would connect.

  But still there was no response.

  The ship laughed at him in the form of another explosion from a transponder. The central line conduit above his station shorted out, throwing bright blue sparks across the width of the engineering station.

  Shielding his eyes as the hot glittering sparks struck his hands and head, he let out another curse as the tiny burns stung his flesh.

  “I need a vacation,” Harry Thomas groused.

  The Pegasus was a relatively small ship.

  Especially when compared to the more massive ships like the Ulysis. Next to the floating city, Pegasus was a small fish in a very large cosmic ocean.

  Fourteen decks, eight hundred cabins, twelve meeting rooms, three docking bays, two commissaries, and three storage units comprised the layout of the Pegasus. The ship was originally scheduled to hold three shuttles, one for each docking bay. Although that would have been instrumental in mounting a rescue of Space Lab’s survivors, so far only one of the three shuttles had been delivered.

  It was not as large a problem as it initially seemed, as the pilots assigned to duty on the Pegasus had not yet arrived from their previous postings. Before the crisis, while sitting in space dock, this was not an issue.

  Now they needed all the shuttles they could get.

  The only two people on board with any real piloting experience were the captain and first officer, the latter of which was presently unaccounted for. The remainder of the Pegasus’ skeleton pre-launch crew was comprised of mostly young, inexperienced officers and non-comms. For many of them the Pegasus was their first official posting.

  The captain was determined to make sure it was not their last.

  Reaching Docking Bay Two, Captain Harmon skidded to a stop outside of the massive bay door. Without conscious thought she punched in her six-digit security code. A small shaft of light emerged in the middle of the thick gray door. Ever slowly, the servo motors cranked until the door split down the middle, sliding open.

  She pushed her way through the door before it cycled completely open. Her destination was the computer station off to the left of the door. Taking a moment to do a mental checklist, she began operational procedures for uncoupling a locked down shuttle. That was the easy part.

  Cycling it out of the ship and into vacuum in one piece without a crew to man the controls was a bit more difficult.

  “God, give me strength,” she said as she tapped in the combination she hoped would begin the automatic engine start on the shuttle. Although, as a certified pilot, she was intimately familiar with the launch procedures, this was the first time she had performed every step solo.

  Closing her eyes, Harmon slapped the execute button hard.

  Nothing happened.

  Biting down on her lower lip, the captain started thinking the worst, but hit the button again.

  The piercing whine of the shuttle’s engine engulfed the docking bay, quickly followed by the loud clank of the docking clamps releasing. It was quite possibly the most beautiful sound she had ever heard in her life.

  Captain Virginia Harmon allowed herself to briefly bask in the glory of this small triumph, but only for a moment. There were lives at stake on the space station. It was her job… no, her duty, to save as many of the survivors as possible.

  “Captain?”

  “What is it, Lieutenant?
I’m fairly busy at the moment.” She answered, continuing the manual override procedure until finally releasing the shuttle’s outer hatch. Moving quickly, she sprinted toward the waiting shuttle.

  “Yes, ma’am. I know you are. I’ve found two volunteers to help with your rescue operation, Captain. They should be with you in a moment.”

  “I see them now,” she said as two young members of her crew entered the docking bay at a full run. The first was a dark haired man of about twenty. He had long, lanky legs and thin, wiry arms that were easily carrying a duffle filled with weaponry and equipment. Almost pacing him was an even younger woman who looked as though she was not even out of her teens yet.

  They’re just kids, Harmon thought, suddenly feeling a lot older than she had when she came aboard. Still, she couldn’t do this alone and she needed help. Even if they were young.

  The girl was probably nineteen. The UPA would not accept volunteers younger than eighteen. They would not let them serve on a starship until a year later. Her hair was cropped short to reveal a slender neck and muscular shoulders. Like her counterpart, she too was burdened with a full equipment pouch.

  The two quickly boarded the shuttle and strapped themselves in with no unnecessary chitchat. Their attitudes were pure professional, Captain Harmon noted. She appreciated that quality in her crew.

  The young man introduced himself. “Raymond Hanover,” he said matter-of-factly.

  His partner was equally succinct. “Stephanie Walsh, ma’am.”

  “Welcome aboard and my thanks to you for volunteering for this. I appreciate the help.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” the two replied in perfect unison.

  Captain Harmon was impressed in spite of herself. When this was all behind them, she would make a point of getting to know these two officers. They had an excellent future ahead of them. If her recommendations would still carry weight after this, she planned to put them both up for a citation.

  Completing her pre-flight set up, she opened a comm-channel to the bridge. “We’re ready, Mr. Andersen.”

  “Captain,” he said. “I’ve just picked up several small objects ejecting from Space Lab.”