Excerpt from Yesterday's Frontiers: A Spacer's Story by Captain Dale Carruthers
We'd just finished flying in from Sol, guiding UGS Flight 604 to Evlei. My copilot for this trip was one Francine Thang. She was one of many women who worked for UGS, and one of the most competent. Inside rumors had her as a captain within the month, but gossipmongering isn't really my job. Besides, it's old news - she's UGS Chief Pilot now. Real go-getter. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Anyway.
One last hyperspatial flash and the green-gold planet Evlei hovered in front of our assigned ship. It was a Type I Valkyrie we had, this time.
Francine smiled at the sight of the cloudy world. "Pretty, isn't it?" she asked.
"Yup," I answered. "It's a shame we don't fly out here more often. Want to take us in?"
"Sure," she replied.
"You got it," I said.
"I have the conn," she pronounced.
I leaned back in the chair, and checked some instruments. "Can I ask a question?" I asked.
"What's on your mind, Chip?" Francine asked.
"Dale," I corrected absently. "How come you always say that conn business?"
"I used to be a helmsman on a Sigma Shipyards Leviathan," Thang replied. "Now flying that thing was like flying a gas giant," she laughed. "Anyway, the bridge was always very navy-like. 'Captain on the bridge, I have the conn,' things like that. The habit kinda stuck, I guess."
"So why'd you switch to UGS?"
"Advancement issues," Francine said. "There were a lot of very senior people on board Sigma, and promotions are few and far between. UGS was expanding, and they hired me."
"Fair," I shrugged. I pushed one of the buttons on the control board. "Evlei Orbital Control, this is UGS 604, inbound, request landing permission," I stated.
A few moments later the response came. "UGS 604 cleared for Pad 31-D. Follow Clearance 9. There's a big storm over the Sundown Sea."
"Thank you, Evlei," I acknowledged. I brought up the computer chart for Clearance 9 and directed it to Francine's Multi Function Display.
"Thanks, Dale," she said. "Buckle up."
Reentry was smooth. A few buffets, but Thang was really good. Clearance 9 took us around the worst of the weather, and aside from some scattered clouds, we could enjoy the view.The "Fasten Seat Belt" sign was on, but no worries. A few more minutes and the Valk was grounded neatly in the middle of Pad 31-D. "Nice flying, Thang," I said, starting the shutdown sequence.
"Thanks, Dale," she replied.
A few minutes later we were in the crew lounge, filling in the obligatory crew reports. The District Space Manager, some guy I didn't know, walked up to us. "Ragradah Howell," he said, introducing himself. "How was the trip?"
"Not so bad," I replied. "Evlei's pretty from space."
"Nothing unusual?" he asked.
"Nothing," I said. "Why?" I asked. I had to admit I was more curious about the DSM than his problems. Here he was, light years from Auroran space, and not one tattoo that I could see.
"UGS 4491 is a day late," Howell continued, interrupting my chain of thought. "We're sending out a search ship, but the guy who was supposed to fly one of the search 'Bridges ran into crew rest issues. Can you fill in left-seating?"
"Suppose I could," I replied. "Who's the co-pilot?
"Guy named Art Quigley," the DSM admitted.
"Any relation to the spacer family?" I asked.
The DSM rolled his eyes. "Yeah," he said. "And he doesn't waste a minute letting you know. Good guy, but an ego-nut."
"Look, if he knows his biz," I smiled. "I don't think he's anything I can't handle."
A few hours later I was beginning to wonder. Arthur C. Quigley III was a member of the Quigley family. The Quigleys had "been in space as long as there's been hyperdrive", and Art here seemed to consider himself God's gift to mankind.
We blasted off from Evlei, and headed out into space. "Right, Quigley," I said. "Plot us a course through to-"
"Course plotted as per mission guidelines," Quigley said. "Jump capacitors charged, engines online, and ready to go."
I sighed. "All right, Admiral," I grunted. "Do it."
"Jumping," he clipped. We flashed to hyperspace.
"How long you been working for UGS, Quigley?" I asked.
"Three years," he replied. "Call me Art. Shouldn't be much until I get the left seat, though," he said, matter-of-factly. "Flying buses isn't that hard, and I been around the block a few times."
"Don't get too confident," I commented. "Space doesn't like that."
"I can handle it," he grinned. "Scans complete. No sign of the ship. Next jump?"
I took a quiet, calming breath. "Listen, Junior, we're gonna have to set a few things straight here," I said, in what I hoped was a friendly tone of voice. "You know these ships have a captain, right?"
"Yeah, I noticed," he said. "And like I said, it can't be soon enough to be me. And it's Art."
"But it isn't you yet," I pointed out. "And with an attitude like that, it might not be you for a while yet."
"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that," Quigley replied, offhand. "Uncle Mort's on the board of directors. He'll smooth things over."
Oh, yes. How could I forget. Mortimer Quigley IV, senior vice president of UGS. Art was right. Not a lot was going to prevent him from getting that fourth stripe.
"Right, Junior, wanna switch now, or do you want to stay in the right seat for the duration?" I asked, annoyed.
"No, you can stay," Art laughed. He flashed another irritating smile. "No need to rush."
"Just jump, ok?" I asked.
He did.
The next planet was completely forgettable. Damned if I remember the name. The system's fuzzy too. Come to think of that, it's all kind of fuzzy...but we found her. Well, we found most of the missing Starbridge. True, the forward two-thirds of her was floating somewhere in space, but the engines and one of her wings was in orbit around whatever ice-planet it was in that system.
The bright white star shone into the flight deck off our right as we closed in on the destroyed ship. "What happened?" Art asked, eyes wide. "It looks like something ripped that thing in half!"
"Congratulations, Quigley," I commented sourly. "Observant son, aren't you?"
"You think anyone's alive on that thing?" he asked. We both winced as a slightly scorched green and white seat bounced off our viewscreen.
"Check your scanners, boy," I pointed out. "But tell the medics to stand down."
I turned the lights down on the flight deck - there was enough light coming in from the system's star that there wasn't any point wasting the power. "Why'd you do that?" Quigley asked.
"I felt like it, ok?" I retorted. "Captain's discretion, like it says in the books."
"Take it easy," he suggested. "No need to get so huffy."
I bit back the comment I wanted to make, just visualizing HNN's headlines. 'Space disaster: UGS Starbridge destroyed, idiot copilot on rescue ship strangled', or something similar. "I have the conn," I said, trying to get some kind of command prescence reestablished. I toggled the cabin speaker. "Engineers, get ready. Medics, grab a magazine or something - you won't have much to do."
A moment later one of the medics stepped into the control room. "Did we find them?" he asked. "Damn," he said, catching site of what was once Starbridge 32871. "I guess we do kick back and relax."
An engineer poked a shoulder in. "Well I'll be a Cunjo's uncle," he whistled. "I'll get the boys ready."
And that's when the cockpit went dark. "Nightside already?" Quigley commented. "That's weird." He flipped a switch, and the lights went on. "So, what orders next, Captain?" he asked, stressing the last word a little too much.
I had no idea. Not the least clue in the world. Or the system. Or the galaxy.
But it was big. Six engines. Six engines the size of my Starbridge. And two hangar-size doors inching open. And it was blocking the sun.
I fumbled for a switch, and pushed it. "Unidentified ship, this is UGS Rescue Flight 1," I said, still staring at the behemoth ship.
"I don't care who you are," a flat, monotone voice informed me. "Tell me, should I?"
It's hard talking when you've suddenly got a funny feeling in your stomach. And I had that funny feeling, right in my gut. "We're here on a mission of mercy," I said. "We're carrying medical supplies for the injured aboard that Starbridge."
The speaker laughed. It was a cold, quiet, sinister laugh, and it wasn't making me feel any better. "They don't need the supplies," he said. "We've seen to that."
"You've rescued them?" I asked, almost hopefully. "UGS would be generously grateful for any humanitarian aid rendered."
"They're in no pain," the voice said. "We take good care of...guests...on board the Glory. Here, you want to see?"
The engines on the monster ship glowed brightly for a moment as the ship adjusted its position. Then a puff of vapor emanated from the left hangar, and dozens of long, cylindrical shapes floated out into space.
And they got closer.
And closer.
Bodies.
I almost wish I could have felt a little satisfaction at seeing Art Quigley deflate like he did...but I was busy trying not to throw up on the control boards. A skinny guy hit the Bridge's nose, dried blood crusting his eyes, nose and ears...and a little girl bounced gently off his side of the viewscreen. She was still bleeding...and she left a smear on the transparisteel.
She looked so scared...small, stiff, eyes open, mouth frozen wide, looking for oxygen that was a long time too late for her.
That was about when I grabbed the thruster controls and pushed them to the stops. And the killer ship opened fire.
The ship was facing us, and I just rushed by it. A quartet of giant deck guns fired blue bolts at us, and they slammed into us. The medic and the engineer got knocked into the floor. The engineer started crawling back to the passenger bay - the medic curled up and started screaming. "STOP IT STOP IT STOP IT STOP IT STOP IT!" he cried, going on until he stopped for breath.
"Shield status!" I yelled at Quigley. I glanced over at him. He was frozen stiff in his chair, eyes riveted to the red-brown smear on the window. "Snap out of it!" I roared. Useless. He was breathing shallowly, unhurt, but shocky and practically catatonic.
The turrets on top of the enemy ship fired red balls at us. Dimly I recognized them as Auroran fusion guns. But the balls were hitting us. And the blue guns sliced through the shields like they weren't even on. I glanced over at the shield indicator. 32%. Not good. I stabbed at the hyperspace button. Still too close to the planet. Blue sparks exploded out of a panel as it blew off and hit the floor. A chime sounded as the shields gave out - but we were far enough...almost.
I'm still not sure which was louder, the hyperjump or the engines blowing.
(This message has been edited by ElGuapo7 (edited 09-27-2003).)
Nice spurt of action at the end. Nothing like dead bodies to grab the readers' attention.