Once Upon a Blue Moon (In progress)

Prologue:

 

“Son of a bitch!” Billy cursed.  There was no avoiding the graviton streamer that seemed to form around them as Spartacus went hyper-light.  At once, the ship’s already straining inertial grid started to buckle.  Sparks and equipment flew freely about the bridge, a fifty-kilo battery pack striking his helmsman in the visor which instantly shattered.  Fortunately, he seemed to be dead when Billy freed him from his restraint and took the controls.  Tashi was a good guy and hypoxia a notoriously unpleasant death.

            Gravity, long thought a relatively weak force, is nothing of the sort.  Moving freely through higher dimensional space merely hides its full power from human observation.  When traveling through hyperspace however, bottlenecks can occur.  It was now widely believed these tendrils helped keep the galaxies together in a vast circulating web, anchored at their most massive objects.  Scylla was such an object, gatekeeper of the Rift.  A four and a half solar mass neutron star, she was one of only two in explored space and the closest to inhabited worlds.  Indeed, this very hazard helped maintain the March’s independence.

            There was no real need to shout for Kakumi to hear him, the bedlam that raged around them was mute in the vacuum, but chaos brought voices to an instinctive shout.  “We have to fight our way out of the slipstream or we’ll be torn to pieces!”

            “There’s no power to maneuver,” she yelled back, “Broden is pumping everything through the grid to hold us together!  We’re like an egg in a blender here!”

            “Get down to engineering and have him manually reset the injector!  We’ll need a massive burn to force our way through the streamer wall!”

            “The hull will be crushed if we try that!” Kakumi shouted.

            “This streamer is making a beeline for the next black hole or neutron star on its path, either of which will do a number on the paint job!  I want the injector rate doubled and the reaction lasers at four-hundred percent!”

            “They’ll burn out!” she argued.

            “NOW!” he roared and shoved her toward the gangway.  Billy was well past frustration with the intercom down, along with nearly every system on this ship.  How it was holding together at all, given the forces exerted on her combined with the horrific damage sustained when the nuke exploded, being nothing short of miraculous.

            A shame I won’t get to compliment Guy on those bracing modifications, Billy thought.  He cursed himself for a realist and resolved to go down kicking if need be–fighting the controls with the strength of a wild animal though they threatened to break his arms.  Flying under these conditions, with no real computer assistance, was just this side of utter futility but The Jersey Devil didn’t strike his colors for a little thing like futility.

            A hand touched his shoulder.  Turning to see who it was, it proved to be the dead helmsman, still floating about the cabin.  He shoved the body away only to be hooked around the neck by a leg as it spun.

            “Mother-Fucker!” he raged, trying to keep Spartacus clear of the deadly pulsing walls of the hyperspace cyclone.  He could scarcely read an instrument, which was just as well since almost none were functional.  Those that remained on-line gave nonsensical information as the invisible graviton particles coursed through the ship in waves.  They might already have absorbed enough radiation to kill them all within a few years but he would take what he could get just then.

            Kakumi returned to the bridge, “We’re all set!  I really hope this works.”

            “Me too,” Billy said casually; more cheer in his voice then heart.  He began to increase power rapidly.  The shaking became ever more violent as the red bar grew on the acceleration gauge.  With the ship now pulling forward, the corkscrew of the streamer seemed to tighten around them like a hungry python.  They were topping out at twenty G and everything was a blur, his limbs felt numb under the strain of battling the helm and the vibrations that tortured the hull increased with every moment.

            Spartacus would have to be brought into contact with the streamer wall at as shallow an angle as possible then forced through quickly.  Once under the full force of the tunnel’s shell the stresses would become incredible, but there was nothing else to do.  He had never heard of a ship surviving such a phenomenon.  Not so much as a wild drunken boast.

It’s only impossible ‘till someone does it, he reminded himself, moving on the barrier.  He made a good smooth approach but once exposed to the densest part of the streamer the tremors became overwhelming.  It felt as though they were inside a can being shaken in anger, the ship beginning to disintegrate from the inside out.

            The emergency lights flashed like strobes and strange sensory distortions could be noticed.  Objects floating about the cabin would visibly blue and red shift as they moved toward or away from him, leaving trails not only where they were but where they were about to be.  Everything seemed to stretch.  Billy felt lightheaded and his field of vision slowly compressed into a narrowing circle that seemed to move away from him, blue toward the center and red at its edge.  His body felt like taffy being pulled.  He was going to vomit.

Instinctively, he reached up and threw the latch at his chin just as the protean spill began.  A terrible cold shocked him as the air escaped from his helmet along with the bulk of the waste.  With his other hand, he pushed-in on his eyes to help keep them from dislodging.  In reality the chances of that were remote and shutting them tightly was sufficient precaution, but having seen it happen during his formative years in space he was always extra careful.  He gagged on a small volume of the bile when he snapped the visor shut but the maneuver succeeded.  His ears had popped but he was not deaf, so far so good.

            Things began to spin and the ship was cast back into the eye of the storm, bouncing off the far wall before he regained some control.  She lurched back and forth, the inertial grid ready to give-out any second under the strain.  The acceleration gauge was pinned at one-hundred G, it had to be malfunctioning.

            Might have one more shot at this, Billy thought and made his way back to the perimeter.  He focused intensely, the approach as perfect as could be expected, if not more so.  This time however the impact was even more disastrous, hurling them back into the throat of the streamer.

            Strangely, the walls of the vortex became straight and the ship appeared to float gently along its currents, the controls utterly dead.  Billy and Kakumi ripped into the consol with a tool kit stored in a floor hatch beside it, hoping to find something obvious and easy to fix.  While there was a good deal of obvious damage, nothing to account for the complete failure.  Kakumi returned to the drive room to consult with Broden but returned in just a few minutes.  Strapping herself into the seat next to him, she sat there quietly for a moment.

            “Both engines sheared away at the mounts,” she explained.

            “Clean off,” he said with a short chopping gesture; she nodded.

            Billy relaxed with the news.  “Round of drinks says we reach the singularity before the grid gives-out.”

            “Iitomo,” she agreed.

 

 

Chapter One:  The Lucky Goat

 

“Well hot damn!” Billy said as he reentered the bridge, Broden close behind.  The two men joined the ship master at the forward view port and admired the scene with reverence and relief.  The great vortex opened wide and dissolved around them, melting into the black curtain of Mother Night and leaving the gleaming band of the Milky Way stretched out before them; a glorious sight never again to be taken for granted.

“I wonder where we’re gonna die now?” he wondered aloud.

            Kakumi slapped Billy’s arm, laughing.  “There’s no pleasing some people.”

            “Likely ‘ee’s right,” Broden said, moving to a starboard porthole where a great deal of light came pouring in.  “Looks like a double system,” he remarked.  “Two big G stars, close together, probably no more than two leagues apart.”  Billy and Kakumi joined the sail master and had a look.

            “We need sensors,” the captain decided.  “What’s our power situation?”

            “I can give ya ‘bout quarter power off the batteries inside the ‘our,” Broden told him.  “The reactor looks salvageable but she’ll be a project.  Days to weeks.”

            “Get right on the batteries then,” Billy said.  “Can you spare a few hands for a project?”

            “Two or three for now, what ya need?”

            The captain turned to the ship master, “Kiki, take three engineers and whoever else you need.  I want a sun-sail rigged.  It looks like we’ll have to recharge the batteries a few times before the reactor comes back online.  Everybody move.”

            “Yarr,” they both replied and went to work.  Billy looked out the widow a while longer, staring at the monstrous nuclear furnaces before heading for the sensor suite to assess the damage.  The sight filled Billy with dread.  Odd, since deprived of their primary drives, their prospects for long-term survival were already well-past negligible.

            The door beeped apologetically over the com, but could only manage a pitiful thump and shudder when it tried to make way.  Some ten minutes later he had retrieved a hand-crank and succeeded in forcing it open.  Wire and broken conduit danced about in zero-gravity, occasionally giving off a spark when they met.  A hole he could fit through exposed the room to space and the mainframe, while he was no expert, seemed to be in more pieces then it should.

            The captained nodded, sighed, and laughed in turn.  Of course, he thought.  Well, at least I didn’t cut through the damn door.  He stood there a time and then it came to him.  The boats!

 

“Bridge to Launch, Mother is ready-steady.”

            The lead pilot responded, “Launch to Bridge, set to sail.”  With a nod from the captain the order was given and two plumes of white fire took flight, the Rapiers speeding in opposite directions to search the night.  They proceeded to a distance of half a naught and came to a stop, the ship’s jollyboats taking position a hector above and below Spartacus.

            The modest sensor net formed, Billy worked to establish the computer link.  The environment insisted on being unhelpful, a thick sphere of circumstellar dust extending a full dozen leagues out from the two primary suns.  There were four stars all told; the two giants in tight orbit of one another were attended by a second pairing of red dwarfs at some seventeen-hundred leagues away.

            The shell of gas, though defuse, reflected enough light to hinder the optical sensors; the ones of importance here.  Though much of the sky remained blocked, within the hour he had enough data to begin his search.  Star fields were compared to extrapolations of known stars from various distances and vantage points.  The main computer battered beyond repair, he connected his flip-top portable to the ruined neutrino scope’s bridge console; a convoluted but workable arrangement, though without proper software he was forced to make these comparisons manually and by eye.

            At least the hull breaches were finally sealed and the ship re-pressurized.  Sixty-three hours in a vacsuit was a personal record for him and likely everyone else aboard.  One he had no interest in breaking again.  He was covered in oily sweat and matted hair.  His own stench made him sick but luxuries like bathing were out of the question.  What resources they had were all they had.

            He took a swig of cold coffee from a plastic bottle that floated lazily nearby, tied to his harness by a string.  Suddenly, something caught his eye.  Having been at this for hours now, he ran low on reasonable starting places and tried a few unreasonable ones.  He let go of the bottle, nudging it away with a finger.  It looked almost perfect.

            The captain rubbed his face and eyes hard and leaned forward, willing himself to focus tightly on the image as he made slight adjustments to the alignment and scale.  Success; though he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

            “Any luck,” Kakumi asked as she took hold of the chair beside him and strapped herself in.  She saw the befuddled glare in his eyes as he turned to her.  He said nothing but nodded at the screen.  “Hey!  You found it!” she said excitedly.  “Where are we?”

            “Shit’s Creek,” he informed her rather bluntly; “Fucking Capella.”

            She spit out the mouthful of coffee she had just helped herself to from Billy’s tethered bottle.  “Bullshit!  We were in the streamer a little over two days, that’s…”

            “A hundred and twenty-five lee give or take,” Billy said, blowing and swatting at the tiny spheres of regurgitated coffee to keep them off the screen.  He then leaned back and crossed his arms in resignation to the bizarre but undeniable truth.

            “For real?” she asked, he nodded again.  “Fuck me…”

            “We’re really busy right now,” he told her.

 

“Okay, everybody, settle down,” the captain admonished them.  “We are all very aware of our supply situation which is all the more reason to stay calm and not breathe so fucking hard.  Alright?  Good.  Broden.”

            “I can ‘ave the reactor working at ‘aff power in a week.  We won’t be able push ‘er any ‘arder, she’s been busted up and won’t take much more than that.”  The sail master shifted uncomfortably.  No one had been getting any rest but Broden Calhoun had everyone beat in the exhaustion department.

            “What use is the reactor?” Schiller asked with bitter laughter.  “We have no place to go and no way to get there.  No maneuver drives and the hull would peal like an onion if we tried a shunt.  Black-fuckin-night, do we even know where we are?”

            “We do,” Billy told them, rising from his seat and taking a deep breath.  Every eye was on him and the news would please no one.  “We’re in wide orbit of the two primaries in the Capella system, also known as Alpha Aurigae, 13 Aurigae and the Goat Star.  Roughly a hundred and twenty-five lee from our jump point, the closest inhabited planet being Lenora, Perseus IV, a Federation world just a hair over sixteen lee from here.”  As expected, shock and dismay were promptly on the case.

            “This is insanity!”  Quartermaster Newnan rose from his chair and shook his head.  He readied a waving finger to emphasize a point that never really came.  “The navigation is wrong.  It’s just plain wrong.”

            “No, Ty.  It is not,” Chloe said with a roll of her eyes.  “The scopes, such as they are, are functioning.  The Captain, Master Schilling, and I, have all gone over it, and over it!”  Master Aara’s tone grew in intensity, doubtless keeping time with her blood pressure.  She detested the man under ideal circumstances.  Billy waved her down with a gesture and a gentle nod of understanding.

            “How is this even possible?”  Pulaski shut her eyes as she spoke, unable to get her head around it.  The bosun pinched the bridge of her nose tightly.  “That’s halfway across explored space from where we were.  How?”

            “There’s really no way to say,” Kakumi said.  “The streamer must have connected Scylla and Jormungand.  Once we were close enough to Capella the gravity well may have weakened, we were boosting the containment field just then . . .” She trailed off with a shrug, it remained anyone’s guess.

            “What do we know about Lenora?” Gun Master Schaffer asked.

            “What the fuck does any of that matter,” Schiller interrupted in furied exasperation.  “Sixteen lee might as well be the far side of the galaxy in the shape we’re in.” Schiller leaned back, shaking his head and crossing his arms.

            “We won’t be leaving the system in this ship,” Billy said flatly.  “We’re too beat up; it’s just not gonna happen.  What we need to concern ourselves with now is survival.”

            Schiller started laughing at that.  “Survival?  I’m sorry, sir.  Survival?  How do you see that happening?”

            “Easy Pete,” Kakumi told him firmly.  “You’re this ship’s chart master now; you need to keep it together.”

            “Chart master?” Schiller asked.  “That’s bristol-fucking-fashion!  Chart master of a dead ship full of about to be dead mariners.”

            “Scupper it, mister.”  Billy’s tone was mild as a lamb but it silenced the reluctant station master quickly.  The captain was ready to allow for some venting but there remained a line and Master Schiller had reached it.  He leaned forward and gripped the edge of the table with both hands.  The facts of the matter were bleak, and Schiller sadly correct in his assessment.  He did nothing more than keep them busy until it was time to die.

            Three-hundred and twelve of four-hundred and thirty mariners had survived the streamer.  They had a month’s provisions in storage.  With strict rationing they could stretch that to two, about as long as the water would last.  After that. . .

            “Captain!”  Boat Chief Devlin entered the room with an excited look on his face.  He handed the datapad to Billy and took a step back.  He rubbed his hands and licked his lips nervously as he waited for his captain to finish reading.  There was a strained and desperate air of hope about him that made everyone’s spine straighten a little, like someone had turned down the gravity.

            “This is correct?” the captain asked.  “You’ve double checked this?”

            “Yarr,” Devlin told him.  “The moment Gladius-Two reported in I sent the whole flight to check it out.”

            “Son of a bitch!”  Billy cried as he started to laugh.  “What dumb fuckin’ luck!”

            “What?  What it is?” Kakumi asked, everyone now very alert.

            “A terran moon in orbit of that big jovian,” Billy said.  People were shouting with enthusiasm now, getting up and hugging each other.  The captain, for his part, returned to his seat and buried his face in his hands.

“All right!  Everybody calm down and sit,” he told them.  “This isn’t gonna be easy.  She’s moving away from us and fast; we’ve got maneuver thrusters and the boats to work with.  It’s gonna be a bitch overhaulin’ this chase before we starve so we need to chart right and move smart!”

 

 

Chapter Two:  The Road to Ruin

 

“How bad is it?” Billy asked.  The technical explanation, though doubtless fascinating to someone who understood it, left the captain no closer to comprehension.  The algae tanks seemed no more or less slimy than usual.

            “It’s pretty damn bad,” Doctor Jankovic explained.  “The entire supply is mildly irradiated and heavily contaminated with bacteria.  Completely unusable.”

            “What, no more spirulina?” Pulaski asked.  “What a fucking tragedy. . .”

            “It most certainly is,” the doctor informed her bluntly.  “Like it or no, that nasty stuff was our best shot at feeding ourselves, to say nothing of keeping the air breathable.”

            “The scrubbers will hold out long enough to get us planetside and we have plenty of oxygen candles besides,” Billy said.  “As for food, there seems to be plenty of animals and plant life, we’ll find something to eat when we get there.  We’ll get by on E-rats in the mean time.”

            “Almost as bad as the damn spirulina,” the bosun lamented.

            “At least they don’t give you gout and kidney stones,” the captain said.  “As our problems go this is pretty mild.  Dump the entire thing, if nothing else we lose a little mass.”

            “Gladly,” Pulaski said and set off to work.

The captain watched her go and turned back to the doctor.  “You think I’m making too light of this?”

            “It’s not just a matter of hanging on until we can catch something to eat on the surface,” Jankovic said.  “This is a complex ecosystem; there’ll be all kinds of parasites and microorganisms to deal with.”

            “All of which we’d be exposed to in short order anyway,” Billy said with hands on his hips.  “It’ll happen a bit sooner than ideal but what can we do about it now?”

            The doctor chewed his lip a bit.  “If I could get some samples, I might be able to give us a head start.  A few small animals and plants would bring a wealth of information.”

            “We can’t,” Billy told him.  “We’re cutting it too close now.  Only the Rapiers could get there and back inside a week and we need them as tow-craft.  The nanobots should deal with any trouble.”

            “They’re designed to deal with limited exposures,” the doctor explained.  “We’ll likely be spending the rest of our lives down on that rock.”

            “Very likely,” the captain corrected him.  “We’ll adapt or we’ll die.  Right now the priority is catching up with the planet which, given our condition, is far from certain.  I’m not taking any action that reduces our chances of doing so.”

            The doctor took a deep breath, “Billy.”

            “No, Doc.”  The captain held his hand up.  “We’re blow by blow here and first thing’s first.  We’re hanging on by broken fingernails.”

            The doctor relented with a nod and gesture of his own.  “There’s another issue however.”

            “I’d be very shocked if there wasn’t.”

            “If we’re relying on the scrubbers, and given our power situation, it would be a good idea if we cut our hab space until we reach the planet.  I’d like to move everyone into the cargo bay and use it as a dorm.  This way we can concentrate our resources and won’t need to heat the whole ship or worry about leaking atmosphere.  There’s too much room for equipment failure as things are now.”

            Billy thought this over for a bit.  “Not the most comfortable arrangement but you’ve got a point.  It’ll let us strip out a lot of the bulkheads and save some mass if nothing else.  I’ll have Pulaski do an inspection of the cargo bay pressure junction as soon as she’s finished dumping the slime tanks.  Once we’re sure it’s solid we can start moving everyone down there.  Get to work moving whatever equipment you might need from the infirmary in the mean time.”

            “Yarr,” the doctor said.

 

The first night of communal sleeping for the star-lost pirates went far better than the captain had imagined or hoped for.  The cargo bay was packed full of stretched out bodies, each doing their best to deal with doubt, fear, and now the muggy claustrophobia of a hundred and fifty people in tight quarters, arranged and mostly smelling like sardines.  Everyone seemed in good spirits though, despite everything or perhaps because of it.  People joked and quipped, teased one-another, laughing together at themselves and the dire straits they found themselves in.  Maybe they were just happy to be alive.  Maybe even a thread to clutch at was enough for now.

Kakumi took command as Billy took her cot, collapsing under more fatigue then his bones were built to carry.  Still warm, he could smell her on their shared pillow and smiled to himself.  Taking a deep breath and drinking it in, he soon fell asleep to soft laughter and muffled conversations.  The captain slept like a babe for the first night in many, armored by the good natured defiance of his comrades and the latent body heat of his beloved mate.

 

* * *

 

“What were you two fighting about?”  Kakumi asked in English, taking the offered bottle and having a swallow.  She didn’t speak a word of it when they first met and asked him to teach her.  He agreed on condition she teach him Japanese and it soon became a competition.  Though long past correcting grammar they maintained the tradition of speaking in one another’s native tongue whenever in private.

Billy didn’t answer right away, sitting on the edge of the bed and staring out the large porthole at the far end of the cabin.  Not wanting to press the issue, she waited patiently in the big leather chair by the desk.  The brothers were known to have heated arguments frequently enough but never before in public.  More than a few eyebrows raised but none were fool enough to say anything.

            “He just…”  Billy snapped, clamming-up right away.

Kakumi made herself comfortable.  This is going to take a bit.

            He shot her a look and went on.  “I’m going to leave the wing once we’re back in the Rift and settle up.”

Her eyes went wide as she accepted the bottle again, this time indulging more substantially.  “You’re serious?”

            “I am,” he assured her.  “Are you coming with me?”

            “You need to ask that?”

            “I feel I should.”

            “You boys can’t work this shit out?” she asked.  “Or is it not about that?”

            “I’ve been Julian The Bastard’s faithful sidekick my entire life and I just feel like it’s time for me to do something on my own.”  His tone betrayed an annoyance the point should have to be made.

            “Just asking,” she told him, getting up and kissing his cheek.  “This might be for the best.  I know you love your brother but you’ve never been happy with the way he does business and there’s no question you’d be top dog in any other wing.”

            “It’s not status,” Billy said.  “It’s not Julian’s little games, it’s not feeling unappreciated, it’s not. . .”  He lay back and crossed his arms over his chest, studying the ceiling intently as if hoping some shade of sense would touch his eye, but nothing came.

“I can’t do it anymore.  I don’t wanna try.  I love my brother, I love being in space, but I don’t feel like I can do both at the same time in the same place right now.

Hell, he’s always been fucking crazy, and we’ve always gone along with it.  But, he does always find a way in the end and it’s always spectacular; crazy, absurd, and beautiful.  And there’s always the sidelong glance with Deak, wondering if this the time he gets us killed.”
            “That’s not fair, Billy,” Kakumi shook her head. “Jules is over the top a lot, and he likes to act up, but his ship runs tight.  I’ll grant he can be overly bold and he has his little moods to be polite but…”
            “You know he was after the Queen from the start at Darwin,” Billy said with a faint but weighty laugh. “Olga’s the best there is, but no fucking way unless she had some access code even the navy didn’t know about.  And then there’s Guy’s fascinating proximity.  Quite a convenience that.  Broden all but told me that Julian hearing about Guy through him was a bilge bucket.  He’s coming too by the way.”

             “What’s going on in that head of yours?”  Kakumi asked, now lying beside him.  Something more than tension with his brother was at play here.  “It’s like I saw a weight drop on you the minute we went sublight at Isabella that day.  I know you’ve never cared for surprises but it was something different this time.  I don’t know.”

            “Something’s going to happen,” he said.  “I can feel the hammer ready to drop.”

            “Don’t spoke yourself, Billy.”  Kakumi’s words were soft but full of warning.

            “I’m not,” he told her.  “But it’s so.  I felt it the day my father took me to the shuttle port, a lifetime ago, and I feel it now.”

            “You need another drink, my boy!”  She polished off the bottle and began searching for a replacement under the bed.  The first attempt resulted in a sake.  Too much of a project, and unlike her barbarian mate, she would not tolerate it cold.  A nice single malt claymore followed, just neigh its twelfth natal day.

            “Perfection!” she cried, returning to the surface.  She handed it to him and he set to task, eyes locked on some distant point well beyond the confines of the stars.  “You’re kinda freaking me out, Little Devil.”

            “Sorry,” he said after seeming startled to find her there.  “I’m just tired of killing and robbing these people.  We can butcher them ‘till the stars burn out and it’ll amount to nothing.  Nothing’s ever going to change and one day we’ll just kill ourselves off entire.”

            “That’s the spirit!” Kakumi laughed and took her turn on the bottle.  “And by ‘we’ do you mean us rowdy merchant adventurer types or the species in general?”

            “Both, but especially the latter.  I know people like to say that since we’re spread-out we’re safe, but they like to overlook how good we are at killing each other.  Think how much astronautics has advanced since we were pups.  This has all happened before, a runaway boom in technology and the madness, confusion and fear that goes with it.  It’s worse every time and we never seem to get better dealing with it.  Heavy weather is brewing, Love.  We’re all going to be swept away in it.”

            “So,” she decided to play along, “what’s out thesis point here?  Intelligence is an evolutionary dead-end?  I never took you for a primitivist.”

            “I’m not at all,” he told her.  “I just think it’s a low return venture.  Likely the vast majority of supposedly ‘intelligent’ races wipe themselves out fairly quick.  Be it by technology or because they just don’t make it off their home planets before some comet comes and wastes their sorry asses.  Or whatever they’ve got.”

            “What if we’re the first?”

            “The first intelligent race?” he asked with skepticism; she nodded.  He shrugged at that, “Someone has to be I guess, but I doubt it.  Life’s been chemically possible in our galaxy alone for billions of years, plus we’ve found life on every terran world we’ve explored and plenty of others besides.”

            “But no one we can talk to,” Kakumi noted, setting her head upon his shoulder and waving-off the claymore.

            “What about whales?”  Billy took another healthy swig and put the bottle aside.  “They had the biggest brains on the planet, and pound for pound, at least as complex as ours if not more so.  They had an intricate language we never learned, having elected to kill them instead.”

            “Both from the same planet.”  She waved a finger, ruling against the evidence.  “We know intelligence can arise on earth, but why not elsewhere?”

            “Who’s to say what constitutes intelligence?”  He asked.  “I don’t see anything unique about humans at all.  You can’t say anything about humans that you can’t say about another animal or two.  All the examples are proven wrong somewhere down the line.

            ‘Man is the animal that makes tools.’  No, apes do it.  ‘Man has technology.’  No, ants do too.  Birds have made and improved tools in experiments.  ‘Man has language.’  Spoken communication is common, to varying degrees, to most animals and we’ve already touch on our departed marine cousins who were even better at it.  The only difference I can find between man and animal is man’s insistence that there be one.”

            Billy felt a tirade coming on so he reopened the bottle and had another good belt.  “Even the negative things people like to cite, which is really just backhanded narcissism, don’t hold water on close inspection.  War?  Ants do it.  Revenge?  Elephants, dolphins, and whales have all done it, I bet apes would too.  Malicious violence?  Elephants again, and our previous list of suspects were likely just as guilty somewhere along the way.”

            Kakumi shrugged.  “What about comprehending our own mortality?”

            Billy looked puzzled.  “Check-out a small animal in the woods some time; scared shitless day and night.  Not that you can really blame the little fuckers, what with all the killing and eating each other.  And if that’s just instinct, then exactly what’s so different when it’s us?”  He sat upright on the bed and turned to face her.  “Let me tell you a story.”

            “I love a story.”  She said, sitting up as well.

            “When we were kids back on Antigua, we had this cat named Cosmo.  He was a stray that used to hang around the warehouse we had by the docks.  Jules started feeding him so he decided to take-up residence.”

            “Jules did?” Kakumi asked.

            “Yeh,” Billy said.  “He loves the furry creatures, its people he can’t stand.  Anyway, Cosmo was a rambunctious little bastard of a kitty, probably why Jules liked him so much.  One day, we’re sitting outside waiting for some girls we invited over.”

            “And just who were these sluts?” she asked.

            “Exactly,” he told her, “don’t interrupt.  As I was saying, we’re sitting outside when we see Cosmo across the road near some dumpsters.  He’d just killed a bird and was heading back to deliver it when a cargo hauler turned down the street, far off.  Cosmo looks up and sees it, stares at it a moment, drops the hapless bird from his mouth and trots over to the curb, never taking his eyes off the hauler.”

            Billy now went down on all fours at the foot of the bed, enacting the scene for her.  “He stands there at the edge of the road, eyes locked on the giant metal beast as it draws closer.  He goes down and sets himself, wiggles his hind quarters to loosen up and sure his footing.  Then, just as it’s almost on top of him, he turns his head, eyes locked forward, and –!”

Springing across the bed, he tackled Kakumi and sent the pair crashing to the floor.  She let out a surprised yelp as he grabbed her, laughing enthusiastically when she landed on top of him beside the bed.  After they settled down a bit he concluded the tale.

“So, the hauler comes screeching to a halt, skidding sideways trying to avoid the little shit.  Cosmo reaches the other side and bounds off the wall.  Jumps a meter into the air, runs in a circle and jumps up on Jules’s lap, purring away.

            Was that instinct at work?  Fuck no.  That little daredevil act went against every bit of survival programming that animal had, but he did it anyway because he wanted to.  He was a smart cat, knew all about traffic and the tragic things that could come of it.  He knew exactly what he was doing; risking his life for a cheap thrill.

That’s higher reasoning at work, my dear.  Good judgment?  Perhaps not, but definitely free will.  We’re not the only animals that comprehend our mortality; we’re just the only ones that dwell on it.  Not the same, nothing special, not impressed.”

“Alright,” she said.  “But why are we the only animals that travel through space?”

“Bacteria do it.”

“You know what I mean,” she chided.  “Why haven’t we encountered another life form that builds ships and explores the galaxy?”

“Maybe a thousand people have been two-hundred light-years from Earth,” he said.  “We haven’t been far from home at all.  There could be all manner of folk racing around out there without our knowing about it.”

            “Then why no hello?” she questioned.

            “Must have seen us coming,” he mused.  “Still, I doubt there’ more than a handful of kids on this block.”

            “Why?” she inquired, lifting her head to look him in the eye.  He glanced at her and knew she was calling him out as a gloomy pessimist.  While true, it was hardly germane to the issue at hand.  He cocked his head and thought it over a moment before responding.

            “Earth was unspeakably lucky,” he began then paused.  His hands were before his face now and looked ready to snatch something, if only it could be seen.  “It grows-up in a stable planisphere, survives massive bombardment and the collisions of the early solar system.  One glancing blow knocks off a nice piece to create a stabilizing moon.  It has lots of big jovians in the outer orbits to gobble the comets up.

            Most worlds we know about where life develops it never makes it far on.  Of those where it does, few produce higher animals.  Of those which manage that, only one has produced ‘intelligence’ on more than fifty examples of living biosystems.

            Fewer and fewer each step.  A tiny drop from one ocean, divided again and again.  Going by this trend it seems likely that very, very few sentient creatures develop, fewer still will survive long once they do.”

            “Well,” she said, “doesn’t that make it even more likely we could be first to make it this far?”

            “Entirely possible,” he conceded.  “Still, highly improbable given two-hundred billion stars and the time scales we’re talking about.  It’s far more likely that we may be one of a tiny number alive right now.  It may well be that none of us last too long out here.  I’d bet there’ no more than a handful.”

            “Alright,” she said, “but then what’s there to do but keep on?  I can’t imagine, for our admittedly many faults, that we’d really be much worse than the pack for our time in service.”

            Billy shook off a chill.  “If intelligence is prevalent in the universe I dearly hope we constitute the least of it.”

            Less ready to give up on the species, Kakumi shook her head.  “Two-thousand years isn’t a blip on the radar in the scheme of things and look where we were then.  Plowing dirt with some animal’s ass-bone ‘till dark, go to sleep in your drafty, no electricity hut then get up and repeat.”

            “Plenty of folk don’t have it much better now,” he said.  “I think part of us wants to die.  A part that refuses to live in a universe that isn’t all about us.  We presume to be the only thing that really matters like offended infants that can’t see past our own solipsism.  We make up parent figures to explain away what we can’t work out and say it’s beyond knowing or we would know it.  Deities to shoulder all burden, setting everything right for us.  Not our problem, not our responsibility.  Do the rituals and keep your head down.”

            “We made our way through that,” Kakumi said.  “We may not have done it pretty but the templers aren’t going to be in a position to do real harm again.”

            “Religion is only a symptom,” he parried.  “It’s the underlying problem we’ve never shaken or even tried to in any meaningful way.  We let our reptilian minds dictate to us all the time.  We see everything through its lens.  What have we done to improve ourselves?  We’ve augmented, nothing more.  Not the same.  We’ll kill ourselves yet, I have faith.”

            That set Kakumi to howling with laughter.  Billy was irritated but tried to conceal it.  She saw through the facade and that only made it funnier.  “Faith?” she asked for confirmation.  “You?  I hate to be indelicate but I do recall a story about you burning down a building full of people for that sort of talk.”

“There was a little more to it than that,” he said.  “In any case, do not confuse my earnest and considered beliefs with the vain repetitions of the god folk.  Faith is simply a belief in something that can’t yet be established for fact.  Not the same thing as believing in magic because you’re afraid of pitchforks.”

            “Enlighten me, please!” she begged, her voice still aflutter with mirth.

            “I shall,” he told her defiantly.  “Faith requires some basis in fact or it’s not faith at all, just every day, run of the mill stupidity.  Thinking the Earth is seven-thousand years old is not a virtue for example, though the crossers and jihadis would disagree.  There needs to be some compelling evidence at the root or it’s nothing but ignorant dogma.”

            “But with proof you inherently can’t have faith,” Kakumi argued, “so what’s the value of the word at all?”

            “Very little in most people’s mouths,” Billy decided, “but I don’t mean ‘proof,’ just a valid reason for thinking something is so, not a belief no deeper then covering your ass against punishment or simply wanting things a certain way.  Especially when it’s demonstrably untrue, as with pretty much anything any religion has ever claimed about the universe we live in.”

            “Example,” she demanded.  “And don’t just fall back on these fruits who take their holy books literally, not all of them do.”

            “Besides the age of the Earth matter we have creationism as a whole,” Billy proposed.  “The basic mechanisms that govern the development of life have been established for well over twelve-hundred years.  We’ve seen examples of it on dozens of worlds with radically different sorts of life operating by the same underlying rules.  It happened, it’s still happening, it will continue to happen.”

            Kakumi began to shake her head at this line.  “The two concepts are not mutually exclusive.  ‘How’ and ‘Why’ need not be the same thing.  Take Genesis, you can make an excellent, and even a little disturbing argument, that it’s an attempt to explain evolution and cosmology to people with no concept of science.

            Because one segment of a population lacks the sense or imagination to see past the window dressing doesn’t invalidate the entire concept.  You’re making the same case the templers did when they used to say things like ‘ninety percent of the world believes in god,’ as if that were an argument.  Ninety percent of the population thought the Earth was the center of the universe at one point but that didn’t make it so.  Plus, by your own point about diminishing returns, it’s only natural to assume the majority will always be in the wrong.  Maybe that’s the case now with rationalism.”

            “Semantic bilge water,” Billy said.  “Gravity won’t switch itself off because it’s too popular.  Respecting differing points of view isn’t the same thing as validating every last one that reaches your ear out of a desire to be amiable.”

            “True,” she countered, “but equating an entire concept with a single expression of it is wrong-headed.  It’s trying to reframe the dialog in a way that closes off an area of debate with backhanded assumptions.  Not everyone who believes in a god or something like it is an idiot crosser or jihadi.  Most?  Perhaps, I’ll grant you that, but I’d also point out most of any group of people are a tad slow-witted.  What do you believe in without proof?”

            “Three things,” Billy said, enumerating on his fingers.  “First, perpetual motion; I am fully convinced that the universe has always been and always will be, or rather that there will at least always be more universes where it came from.”

            “Why?”

            “Because our local universe begins with this ultra-massive primal nova.  It does this at a certain moment, why?  Why not five seconds earlier?  Why not a trillion years later for that matter?”

            Kakumi raised a finger in pause.  “Some would argue time began with the event.”

            “Well ‘some’ can bite me,” Billy said.  Time is a spatial dimension and exists independently of perception or interior decoration.  The most plausible explanation is that the matter involved had to accrete over time, maybe around old galactic black holes.  They just float out there, gathering up the dust and debris until they reach critical mass and go boom.”

            “All evidence says the universe will fly apart and go cold,” Kakumi pointed out.

            “Only judging by what we can see,” Billy said.  “Which is foolish to extrapolate into saying that’s all there is.  Infinite universe–infinite matter.  If one particular ‘universe’ has enough matter to pull it back together or not isn’t relevant.  We’re likely in an ocean seething with universes bursting like tiny little bubbles.”

            “But why is there anything to start with?” she pressed.

            “That presumes the need for a starting point which I don’t require of my reality.  In fact I’d rather it didn’t.”

            “Ah,” she chimed, “then are you not guilty of letting your wants color your perceptions as much as any templer?”

            “Not at all,” he said dismissively.  “I’m merely pleased by it.”

            “Alright,” Kakumi acknowledged, “but if time itself is just another special dimension, does that nullify the need for an instant of creation without excluding the possibility of it?  Couldn’t god just be the sum of living things?  Couldn’t creation just be the ongoing process?

            There’s something going on, Little Devil.  Something’s turning the worlds and no matter how fine a microscope we turn on it we always find something else we never dreamed of.”

            “Which brings me to my second item,” Billy continued.  “Infinite progression.  I firmly believe that everything will prove to be made of something smaller and that everything is ultimately a tiny elementary part of some larger construct, without end in either direction.  Thus precluding the possibility of an ultimate boss man.”

            “And the last?” she asked, a little worried to hear the answer.

            “True love,” he replied and they shared a laugh.
            “So,” she went on once it had passed, “if we’re not to be pillaging and plundering for a living, then what?  Straight job?  Hauling ice?  I know!  We can take rich cons from the core worlds and do high-priced tours of the Rift.  Then we bring ‘em to the spacer’s mall and let the refugees tear ‘em apart like wild animals.  It would be hard-core black market on their end so word would spread real slow.  We’d clean-up!”

            Billy paused a moment then went to speak, only to find himself pausing again. “Tempting,” he admitted.  “But no, not exactly.”

“I’m all ears,” she said, propping up her head with one arm.

            “I wanna see the stars, Love.”

            “You see little but stars, Little Devil,” she tightened her brows wondering what he was getting at.

            “New ones,” he told her.  “Ones no human eye has seen.    I want to step on ground that none of my kind have ever set foot on and . . .  I need to know what’s out there, I need to know if we are alone.”

 

* * *

 

Schiller woke the captain from his deeping slumber twelve hours later, handing him a bottle of coffee as he sat up and stretched his weary limbs.  “Thanks,” he said and took a swallow.  “It’s hot.”

            “I left it on the reactor for a few minutes,” the chart master told him.  “Let me know if your piss glows blue, I wanna make sure it’s safe to drink before I try it myself.”

            The captain laughed and snorted some up his nose.  Schiller winked, patted his arm and got back to work.  “I prepped your suit, its by the pressure door,” the chart master turned and added.

            “Thanks,” Billy said.  He snapped his head to the right then left, cracking his neck then rubbing it with his hand.  The pirate captain laughed again to himself.  He wanted to be an explorer.  Now he was, like it or no.  Billy had always wondered what people meant when they said “Be careful what you wish for…”  One mystery solved.

Over the next forty days the wounded frigate crept towards the inner planisphere, the ship’s boats equipped with hog lines to help drag her along.  The reactor had been returned to nominal function within a week but Captain DeVelles ordered strict power discipline, relying on the jerry-rigged solar sail Kakumi had put together for most of their consumption.  Much of their fuel had been depleted during their initial jump and what remained was needed for the launch craft.  In addition to their tugboat duties they would be all-important for shuttling supplies, performing reconnaissance, and getting the crew planetside.

            Now two days out from their goal, the number five Lagrange point between the jovian and its precious satellite, the docking bay was a riot of activity.  People scurried about loading the jollyboats for the first round of landings.  They would be busy for the next few days, Billy estimated more than twenty runs would have to be made to get the crew planetside with all the gear they needed and they were cutting things close.

            “Broden, why are we loading the power armor?”  Billy approached Sail Master Calhoun with a datapad in hand and a quizzical look on his face.

            “Just a couple,” the engineer told him.  “The hydraulics’ll make ‘em useful as construction equipment if nothin’ else.”

            The captain mulled that over a moment and nodded.  “Good thinking,” he said.  “I want the initial scouting parties armed to the teeth as well.  From the orbital scans it looks like there’s a lot of big fauna down there.”

            “Yarr,” Broden affirmed.

            “I was thinking,” Billy said.  “It might be a good idea if we landed whatever equipment we’ll need to rig a scoop and processor for one of the jollyboats so we can convert it into a tanker.  This way we’ll be able to send it to the planet for fuel to keep the boats flying.  The moon’s got a heavy magnetic field so we’re not gonna find any helium-3 down there.”

            “Aye,” Broden said.  “And for the reactor as well.”  The sail master excused himself to see to the loading as Kakumi approached them.

            “What’s that about the reactor?” she asked.

 

 

Chapter Three:  There goes the Neighborhood

 

In the high pressure, oxygen rich environment the camp fire burned tall and blue, warming the castaways in the chilly dawn.  The heavy air lent force to even gentle breezes so they took special care to clear a wide circle of any incidental fuel sources.  Fire and wind would be deadly foes on this strange world.

The surface gravity wasn’t so bad, about one point two G’s, but combined with the additional twenty-five percent atmospheric pressure it wore people down quickly.  This was mitigated somewhat by the extra oxygen but that too had its down side.  Everyone felt light-headed and their metabolisms would be pushed higher, driving up food, water and sleep requirements.

            As captain, and official discoverer, Billy had the honor of naming their new home, deciding on Tir Na n’Og for an otherworldly port from Irish folklore.  The place certainly fit the “otherworldly” bill.  The heavens, though a nice familiar blue by day, were dominated by the near-by jovian which filled near half the sky.  A weird, deep purple had usurped green as ecological color of choice and the tall forest a few kilometers away, stretching beyond the horizon, looked like some fairy tale giant’s mushroom garden.

            They had taken shelter next to a large outcropping of chalky red rock on a tall hilltop where there was room for the four Rapiers and two jollyboats to land.  With numerous large animals detected from orbit, they wanted a good vantage point and a defensible position in the event of trouble.  So far only avians had been seen, most no bigger than common earth birds, but a flight of large and menacing creatures had circled high above them for over an hour when they began making camp.

            They shrieked with terrible power, it hurt the ears even hundreds of meters away, and judging by their size they could likely lift a man with little effort.  Billy, observing with binoculars, guessed they spanned a good twelve meters tip to tip and were half again that long end to end.  A deep molted blue in color, they appeared to be smooth skinned, with a flat, kite-shaped head and an upright fin stretching back half its length.  Spotting something in the distance, they raced away in tight formation.

            Searching in the direction they headed, Billy could barely make out the tell-tale dust cloud of a large heard moving across a vast plain to the east of them.  It left the captain feeling very unsettled but there was work to do.

 

“I still don’t know if I like this idea,” Kakumi told Billy once alone in their tent.  After twenty straight hours of work, the captain was already splayed out across the bedding with his eyes closed.  He knew he’d get no sleep any time soon but needed to be still for a while if nothing else.  He also knew this conversation was coming and he didn’t want to have it.

            “I can land my ship,” he told her.

            “You’re certain of that, with only the maneuver drives and a few improvised retro-rockets?”

            “I am,” he told her.  “We need her down here.  We’re on a permanent camping trip, Love.”  Billy took hold of her hand and held it tightly, looking up at her through sleepy eyes he could barely hold open.  “If I can put her down we have the machine shop, a stocked medical bay, a water processor, a functioning power source. . .

There’s no telling what might be useful and without a working mag-field the Van Allen belt will irradiate her and anything left behind.  I’m not leaving her up there.”

            “I love that ship as much as you do, Billy,” she said.  “But she’s a ship that’ll never fly again even if you pull it off.  She’s beat all to hell, it’s a huge risk. We can survive without her.”

            She lay down next to him and rested her head on his shoulder.  “Let me come with you.”

            “No.”  His eyes opened wide now and he turned to look her in the face.  “I need you down there.  This may well not work and you’ll be in command.”

            “But–”

            “No.”

            “Damn it, Billy!”  Kakumi sat upright on the bed.  “We need you, the crew needs their captain.”

            Billy started to laugh then.  The ship master shot her mate a scornful look and began shaking her head.  “The crew doesn’t need any captain if they don’t have a ship,” he told her.  “Besides, you’re schooled in botany.  While a hobby up ‘till now, it makes you our resident expert in a now vital and esoteric field.  My skill set tends toward flying machines and blowing shit up.  We have plenty of pilots to run the boats.”

            She sat there for several long moments, trying to come up with an argument he’d listen to, a way to tell him what she really wanted to say and convince him.  Finally, she just blurted it out.  “I need you.”

            With herculean effort, he forced himself upright, placing his arms around her and leaning forward, their faces only inches apart.  “This can’t be about us or what we want.  Not at all, not in the slightest.  These people are counting on us and we have no right.”  He kissed her cheek and collapsed again on the mattress, laying his arm across his eyes.  “Now scupper the bilge before I decide you’re questioning my phenomenal piloting skills and get pissed off.”

            She snorted a laugh against her will, surreptitiously rubbing a tear from her eye before it could run down her face and expose her.  “You’ll need at least half-a-dozen hands,” she said, relenting at last and focusing now on how best to keep him alive the hard way.

            “About what I was thinking,” he told her; “Broden, Schiller, Bianco, Harrison, Lewis, and Chloe.”

            “Well,” she said, “at least Pete’ll be dead if you don’t make it.  I don’t suppose you’d consider taking Ty along.”

            “Evil bitch!”  Billy started to laugh wildly.

 

“Okay,” Schiller said.  “I think we’re set.”  He breathed deeply, eyes flitting about the cabin wondering what might kill them and have been forgotten.  It was hard to think, so much could kill them.  Indeed he was starting to suspect that Mother Night only kept him alive because she enjoyed scaring the living shit out of him.  She’d eventually get board of it.

            The captain lit up his last spliff of the lady silver-horn from Isabella II and inhaled deeply.  Schiller did a double-take, noticing from the corner of his eye.  Billy offered it to him.  “Good for what ails ya,” he said in a froggy voice, still holding his breath.

Schiller sighed and shook his head in the negative.  “Is that really a good idea?” he asked.

            “It has no negative effects on cognition or motor skills,” the captain informed him after exhaling.  “Try some, puts hair on your lungs.  You know you wanna.”

            “I’m good, thanks,” Pete assured him with a frown.

Billy shrugged and started his final checks.  “Sharp, fuck it.  Let’s crash this bitch!”

The chart master shot him an unhappy look but keep his mouth closed.  The Jersey Devil was a good a pilot as you could ask for in a tuff spot but his cavalier attitude toward death and dismemberment could be unsettling.

            “Gently now,” Broden’s voice said over the intercom. Billy flicked the thumb trigger on his stick and took control of the thrusters, rolling Spartacus over to begin her decent, the last she would make for good or ill.  The multi-thousand kilometer an hour fall seemed gentle at first, the curved horizon of the moon opening wide into a near-straight line, the windows filling with a luminous orange glow as the first tremors were felt.

            Spartacus shared more aerodynamic characteristics with a brick then most birds, but her fins flew true and held her upright with a little gentle nudging.  Well, more than a little, especially once Billy started to pitch her high for long stretches to slow their decent.  A forward surge through the body came with each, followed by the sinking feeling of the tail first drop before leveling out again.

            “We’re running low on propellant!” Schiller warned from Billy’s left.

            “I know!” the captain shouted, “Isn’t it exciting!”  Billy laughed enthusiastically and the green hue Pete turned.

 

“They’re on course and speed,” Gladius-One reported, the two Rapier fighters acting as chase craft to follow the mother ship’s progress.  Covering her mouth and nose under folded hands Kakumi clenched her eyes shut for a moment.  Lowering them to her side, she inhaled deeply and let it out in a long slow breath.  Come the worst, she would be their captain and could show no weakness.  Steeling herself, she looked skyward now, standing tall against the terrible weight of her apprehension.

“Eyes sharp hands steady, Gigin,” she softly spoke.

            Doc Jankovic and his team waited by the gravity sleds that had been loaded with medical gear and were ready to make for the site once Spartacus was grounded.  If all went perfectly the landing would not be gentle, serious injury an unspoken assumption.  The two shuttles were loaded with water and ready to play the role of fire truck.  Everyone was tense and trying hard in their own private solitudes to balance hope and trepidation.

 

The turbulence grew heavy, the bridge a blur of motion and noise as it seemed to shake itself to pieces around them.  Spartacus pitched and yawed, almost determined to thwart their efforts to land her and put an end to her misery.  Billy couldn’t blame the lady, a heeled warship wanted to end her days in glory and fire; it was only natural.  It was his task to convince her that great adventure and a life worth living still lay ahead.

            “You’re losing ventral panels off the portside fin,” Gladius-Two warned.

            “Billy, ease up!” Schiller yelped.  “We’re starting to break up.”

            “Oh, this is nothing,” Billy said.  “Wait till we hit the ground!”

            “You are such an asshole!” the chart master said.

            “Pete relax, we’re almost down.”

            “Yes!” Schiller agreed, “We are!  I’m a little concerned you’re not fully appreciating all that implies.”

            “Just be ready on those rockets,” the captain said.  “Me and gravity got the rest covered.”

Spartacus began a long a winding turn on her final decent.  The great freshwater lake near the hillsides where they camped grew from a faint spot set against the brown surface to a wide expanse of blue.  Billy began to sing as he checked his speed and adjusted his heading, aiming for the water a mile short of land.

 

“Oh, what shall we do with a drunken sailor,

What shall we do with a drunken sailor,

What shall we do with a drunken sailor,

Earl-I in the marnin’?”

 

            Schiller looked Billy over unhappily from the corner of his eye.  Glad on the one hand his captain was having such a good time and wondering on the other if they man had lost his mind completely.  Billy smiled widely at his navigator and now sang to him directly, trying to get him in the spirit of things.

 

                                                “Put ‘em in bed with the captain’s daughder,

                                                Put ‘em in bed with the captain’s daughder,

Put ‘em in bed with the captain’s daughder,

Earl-I in the marnin’!” 

 

Those waiting at the campsite lowered their binoculars and range finders, turning to the communications gear behind them.  Kakumi began to laugh and shake her head.  The others joined her nervously and resumed their vigil as they sang along:

 

                                                “Hoo-ray, Wey-hay!

                                                Heave Ho and up she rises.!

                                                Heave Ho and up she rises.!

                                                Heave Ho and up she rises.!

                                                Early in the morning!”

Schiller fired the retrorockets as they closed on the surface, they were still moving too fast and the thrusters had gone dry.  The ship rattled about with mounting force and it was nearly impossible to see through the small viewport, everything a blur.  Their improvised altimeter useless, unable to function in the violent convulsions that shook the hull, the underside cameras showing only a blue smear racing by them.

            Captain Billy, for his part, had ceased his light-hearted games.  His singing gave way to humming a few moments past and even that ended as they came within meters of the lake below.

            “Speed?” the captain asked.

            “About six-hundred KPH,” Schiller shouted back.  “That’s a guess.  Nothing’s working.”

            “Okay,” Billy said, “I’m gonna nose-up.  Set to deploy the chutes.”

            “They’re going to rupture at this speed,” the chart master said.

            The captain simply nodded.  “Take what we can get.  Ready?  Now!”

 

From her vantage point on the hillside, Kakumi saw their makeshift drag chutes unfurl behind Spartacus.  Thrown together from hog line and sheets of drop-silk taken from the hull armoring, they opened cleanly but the three smaller ones tore from their lines almost instantly, trailing behind the frigate like streamers as she made contact with the lake.  A great spray of water flew into the air and she gasped, cringing.

The chaos inside doubtless rivaled the maelstrom of the graviton streamer which heeled them in the first place.  They had torn out every piece of equipment they could and still keep her airtight, both to lighten her as much as possible but also because anything left behind might be lost when her captain tried to bring her down.  Crewmen had been injured or killed by lose equipment already and they wanted no repeat of the tragedy among the seven mariners who remained onboard.

            The single large chute that held was now released, a final blast from her main drives lending some forward momentum as she skimmed along the surface toward shore.  Moving too fast to begin with, the engine burn worried her but she saw the need for it.  The sudden drop in speed threatened to flip the vessel end-over-end, at twenty-four thousand tonnes this would have crushed her in an instant.

            Once inside two hundred meters of the shore, and still moving over a hundred kilometers an hour, the ship’s fins were angled down to act as breaks.  This sent up two massive walls of water before they broke free, sending each thousand tonne wing spinning through the air like a leaf swept up in hurricane winds.

The port fin, most heavily damaged, gave way first and tilted her to one side by several degrees.  Spartacus barely straightened out when she struck a sandbar, launching her a dozen meters into the sky.  She came down hard on her belly and skidded sideways as she hit the beach, completing two full rolls before she settled upright forty meters inland.

            The sound of groaning metal was loud, even from the hilltop, followed by the shouts of frantic crewmen who raced down the slope to the broken ship.  The rapiers were already circling above, their screeching engines making it nearly impossible for Kakumi to make anything out over her headset, pressed tightly to her head with both hands.

            There were half-a-dozen voices struggling to be heard over the confusion but the ship master was only interested in one, the voice she heard no trace of.  “Billy?  Billy can you hear me?  Talk to me, Billy.”

            “Fucking ow . . .” he said.

            “Billy!  Billy, are you alright?”

            “Ah no, not especially.”

            “Hang on, Love,” she told him.  “They’re at the site now, we’ll have you out in a minute.”

            “Okay. . .”

 

“Pete?”  Billy tried to reach over to his chart master but something had him pinned down.  It was pitch black inside the ruined hulk; at least he hoped it was, otherwise he was blind.  “Pete, can you hear me?”  Billy heard a faint groan in response but nothing more, it would have to do for now.  The captain reached for his restraint buckle and found the helm console pressing down on his chest.  He made a brief attempt at moving it but it proved fruitless, and painful enough, to be abandoned on the first try.

            “Are we dead?” the chart master asked.

            “I hope not,” Billy told him.  “This would be disappointing to say the least.  Can you see anything by the way?”

            “Not at all.”

            “Good.  Me neither”

            “Are we even right-side-up?” Schiller asked.  “I can’t tell.”

            “I think so,” Billy said.

            “Captain!”  A voice sounded from behind them as beams of light shone through the dust.

            “We’re here,” Billy responded.

            “Hang on,” the voice told them.

            “Not going anywhere,” he assured their rescuers.

 

The crew of Spartacus cheered as their wounded comrades were carried from the wreck, everyone now gathered around the crash site.  Kakumi forced her way through the crowd of bodies to the stretcher bearing her mate.  She let out a long breath when he smiled up at her and waved.

            “Is it safe to punch him in the face?” she asked Doctor Jankovic.

            “I’d give it a day or two,” Jason told her, “just to be safe.  He’s gonna need a mess of stitches though, you wanna do it?”

            “Hell yes,” she said as she leaned over him and kissed his cheek.  “Good to see you in one piece, flyboy.”

            “It’s good to be in one piece,” he said.  “How’s she look?”

            “About half as fucked-up as you,” she told him.

            The captain craned his neck to have a look at his ship.  He started to in any case; a sharp pain halted the procedure quickly.  Jankovic straitened his neck out and set to strapping it down in place, admonishing him not to try that again.  The captain gave no argument.

 

 

Chapter Four:  The New World

 

“I am in command now,” Ty said, though more in the tone of a demand then a statement of fact.  He knew full well what most of the crew thought of him.  He did have his constituency however, and the bitter laughter brought on by his remark raised their haunches.

            “That is never going to happen, Newnan,” Kakumi said flatly.  She was on her feet and the two groups faced each other down during the long and weighty silence that followed.  No weapons had yet been drawn but hands moved surreptitiously to the ready.  Eyes were eager all around though none wanted to be the one to start the blood-letting.

            “The quartermaster commands planetside,” Hilton said.  Ty’s followers voiced their confirmations loudly, hoping to overcome numbers by force of will.

            “No ship, no quartermaster,” Chloe said.

            “No captain either,” Billy remarked, limping into the discussion from the medical tent.

            “Billy, you should be in bed,” the ship master told him, moving to return him there at once.

            “And miss a good brawl?” the captain asked, holding her at bay with one arm.  “No way, no how.  So, what are you guys talking about?”

            “You know full well,” Ty said in a rough voice as he puffed up his chest and straightened his back.  “And she’s quite right; you need to get back to the med tent.”  He gestured at the captain and three of the raiders moved in to take him there.

            Kakumi kicked one in the face and put him on his back, chopping another across the throat and dropping him to his knees.  The third had a weapon drawn on her but that only summoned a dozen more sidearms from their holsters.

            “A gunfight!”  Billy shouted with enthusiasm.  “Sharp.”  He leaned heavily upon his makeshift cane and sat down on a crate.  “Oh, don’t let me stop you guys.”

            Slowly, eyes flitted about and weapons lowered.  People resumed their seats with a newfound calm, albeit shame induced.  Billy sat there with a smirk on his face, holding his walking stick before him.  Made of a strange black wood, it was just over a meter and a half long, perfectly straight and smooth, with a sharp point on one end.  Hundreds of them were strewn about in two great piles near the base of the hillside opposite the lake.

            “Alright then, are we quite finished being a bunch of bilge rat assholes?” he asked.  Taking their silence for confirmation, he went on.  “We not a crew anymore, we don’t have a ship.  It’s time for us to make a new arrangement; any thoughts?”

            “We do have an arrangement,” Ty said at once, still on his feet.  “The quartermaster commands planetside and that doesn’t require a vessel.”

            “All in favor of Ty being in charge?”  Kakumi asked the floor.  About fifty or so hands went in the air at once but no more.  Seeing themselves outmatched, they adjusted their tactics.  Volume now stood in for numbers.

            “That’s not how a proper vote is conducted,” Bianco shouted.  As the loudest of his group, his point was addressed first.

            “Fine,” Chloe said, “we’ll have a lengthy debate and hold a formal vote.  You think it’ll turn out any different?  Billy, where are you going?”

            “Back to bed,” the captain informed them.  “I’m tired, hurt, and in no mood to argue.  Let me know what you guys decide.”  He returned to the med tent and dropped himself back on his cot.  He leaned over with great labor and took his LAM pistol from its holster, readied it and slid the weapon under his pillow before lying back down with an arm across his eyes.

            “What in the bloody ‘ell was that about?” Broden asked from the next bunk.

            “Those crazy kids . . .” Billy said before passing out.

Raised voices challenged one another through the night.  Those in the tent were often awakened by some especially heated contest though no clear words could be discerned.  From the sound of things it was likely that few involved in the discussion could tell either.  The one person who seemed immune to the racket outside was Captain DeVelles himself, sleeping like a babe through it all.

 

“Wake up, Mister President.”  Kakumi’s voice was soft and cheerful.

            “Damn it,” Billy groaned.

            “What’s the matter?” she asked, worried that he was feeling worse today.  He never should have gotten up last night with his injuries.

            “I wanted to be emperor,” he said with disappointment.  “Let’s make it ‘El Presidente;’ it sounds more ridiculous in Spanish somehow.”

            “It does have that fun military junta thing going on, doesn’t it?”  Kakumi remarked.

            “Exactly.”

            “I was joking anyway,” she said.  “We never got around to giving you a title.”

            “Then emperor it is,” the captain said.  “Seriously though, what went down?”

            The ship master settled in to explain.  “We’re going to have a council of thirteen people.”

            “Good number.”

            “Thought you’d like it,” she said.  “You’re still in charge though, for the next five years at least, and then your position comes up for vote.”

            “Fair enough,” Billy said, “should be plenty of time for Ty to have an accident.”

            “Funny you should mention that.”

            Billy opened his eyes wide now.  “I was kidding and you had better be also.”

            “He’s dangerous, Billy.  That’s all I’m saying.”  She shifted in her seat as he forced himself upright, fetching a canteen of water from the crate beside his cot.  The captain stared out into space, a glaze about his eyes that she didn’t know whether to attribute to his recent concussion or an unpleasant but undeniable issue.

            “We’ll be too busy for any trouble making in the immediate future,” he said, though she could tell he was trying primarily to convince himself.  Quartermaster Newnan was capable of almost anything in the pursuit of whatever he set his greedy little heart on.

            “Let’s take a walk,” he said, reaching for his cane.

            “You should stay in bed a few more days,” she told him.

            “I need to stretch my legs,” he said.  “And I need to be seen on my feet . . .”

            As the flap was pushed away, Billy limped from the med tent and squinted under the harsh gaze of two golden eyes.  Though no bigger than the nail of his little finger held at arm’s length, the glowing orbs filled the azure sky with light and the weird creatures of Tir Na N’Og sang their praises, each in their own strange tongue.  The giant planet held the blue moon tidally locked but day and night came in even four-hundred and thirty-two hour shifts as it circled the parent world, losing sight of the brother sun gods when they moved into its shadow.  They had arrived some sixty-hours after dawn so they would have another dozen “days” of daylight to work with.

            The hillside was like an anthill, alive with motion and industry.  Working their way to the top of the crest they saw every hand fast at work.  A large still had been erected to clean water pumped from the nearby lake through a system of hollowed-out tree trunks that were glued together and submerged in a trench.  There were no tides on Tir Na N’Og and standing water was mostly stagnant and full of microbes.

The ground here rich in iron, Broden was hard at work on a way to extract it, Pulaski in charge of assembling a smelter and forge in one of the larger caves.  Men in powered armor lifted massive stones and tossed them down the slope under the watchful eyes of the sail master turned civil engineer, whose two broken legs kept him seated under a makeshift umbrella where he presided over a mass of drawings and notes.  He cursed and howled at his people over an improvised PA system, urging them to action.

            He would never be quite the same again, the injuries to his legs severe, but a crippled body only drove the man harder and his people needed to hound him constantly to eat and rest between crackings of the whip.  Even now Doc Jankovic did battle with him, trying to perform a check-up while Master Calhoun berated him and cursed his interference.  Billy laughed as they passed-by; glad the man had plenty to distract him from his condition on one hand, but noting the doctor’s admonishment he slow down.  In the alien environment, their immune systems and the nanobots carried in their bloodstream labored to adjust and the injured crewmen would be particularly susceptible to disease and infection.

            Reaching the summit, Billy and Kakumi looked out toward the lake and saw the remains of Spartacus below them on the shore.  Only a bare skeleton of framework remained, like a carcass mauled by scavengers.  The crew stripped her down for everything of use and what little remained they were cutting apart with torches even now, loading it onto the grav-sleds.

            “I need to get back to work,” Kakumi told him once the captain situated himself on a rock where he could take-in the entire site.  Numerous plants and small animals had been collected by scouts and would need to be examined if they hoped to know what could and couldn’t be eaten.  Supplies were low and soon trial and error would be the only tests available.  She left him with a portable so he could go over what they had discovered so far and checked his comlink to be sure it was working.

            “Please ask for help when you want to come back down,” she remained him.  Frowning at his canned “yes, dears,”  she approached a group of crewmen erecting a large antenna near-by, telling them to drag him off when they were finished.  She then began making her way back down the slope only to return and frisk him, making sure he wore the bio-sensors Jason had given him.  Billy kept taking them off to her and the doctor’s annoyance.  Once satisfied they were in place she retreated from his slapping hands, laughed at him, and was on her way.

            The breeze here strong and constant, Billy’s hair and clothing whipped about in the thick turbulent atmosphere.  He needed a shave and a haircut badly.  The captain still found it hard to breathe, and despite his affectations to indifference, the coming hardships left him fretting deep and dark now that he had time to dwell on them.

            Movement on the horizon caught his eye and the captain raised his binoculars, zooming out to long range.  There they were.  The giant bird-bat-whatever they hell they were creatures were making a wide orbit of the hills again.  The “Shriekers,” as people had set on calling them, never drew so close again as during that first sighting but they always seemed to be near.  Their shrill voices were barely audible from the distance they kept, but they could be heard whenever the thick, throaty winds grew still.  Sometimes you would feel the hair stand on your neck before the ears even noticed, the high-pitched sound seeming to come from all directions at once.

            “We have a storm warning.”  It was Kakumi’s voice over the com line.

            “What are we looking at?” Billy asked.

            “Some kind of cyclonic system; not big, maybe a dozen kilometers across, but she’s packing eighty plus kph winds and in this thick air . . .”

            “Where are the boats?”  Billy asked, already working his way down the hill.

            “Both jollyboats and Gladius-one are on the beach,” she responded.  “G-two reported the storm and is heading home.”

            “We need to secure them or send them off, how fast is the front moving?”

            “ETA fifteen minutes,” Ship Master Kato responded.

            “Get the rest of them in the air and out of the storm path,” the captain decided.  “Have Gladius-Two join them.  We need to batten down here, get everyone into the caves along will all the gear you can.”

            “Yarr.”

            Billy put away his com and moved down the slop as fast as he could on his bad leg.  The sky already began to darken and swell around him, winds starting to gust.  Before he reached the half-way point the crew that had been setting up the antenna had taken it down again and overtook him; one leaving the group to help him along.  Kakumi, who had gone charging up the hill to find her mate, took up human-crutch duties and escorted him into the large cave where they made ready to shelter.

            A good fire was roaring deep inside, a makeshift chimney system had been set up to help clear the chamber of smoke and people were huddled together, talking and joking.  This would be the first real trial of the planet’s new tenants and nerves were beginning to show.  Thirty meters across and perhaps a dozen high, the place was crammed-tight with boxes and equipment as well as people, about a hundred all told.

            “Where’s everyone else?” he asked Kakumi once they entered.

            “Spread out in other caves,” she said, ushering him to the rear where Doc Jankovic had reestablished his homespun medical center.

            Broden gave him a little wave, “Nice of you to join us.”

            Billy just nodded, turning his attention at once to Harrison, covered in sweat and thrashing about on her cot under Jason’s supervision.  The doctor glanced briefly at the captain before getting back to work on his patient, wiping her forehead with a cool damp cloth.  He said nothing but he didn’t need to, that brief exchange told the whole sad story.

            Tonya was hurt badly in the crash, suffering a severe concussion, a fractured arm and five broken ribs.  While none of the injuries were in of themselves life-threatening, her immune system had been weakened and she took ill within a day or two.  At least as they reckoned days before arriving here, this strange place would oblige them to rethink a great many concepts.

            Thunder raked the sky, splitting it wide.  Heavy droplets of rain began to fall, pelting the rocky ground with mounting force and whipping into the open mouth of their sheltering cave.  Thick and merciless winds lashed the hillside and howled in anger as if the blue moon itself sought to force their eviction.  No use that, they weren’t going anywhere and the sooner this little world came to accept it the better they would all get along.  The hairless space monkeys from Earth were not to be trifled with.

            “Look out!  Look out!”

Billy didn’t know who was shouting be he knew the sound of weapon’s fire.  He grabbed his coilgun and started forcing his way through the mass of bodies for the entrance.  He elbowed friends in the chest and shoved back their faces with an open palm in his rush to find the source of the commotion, even forgetting the terrible pain in his leg, now muted under a torrent of adrenaline.  As he neared the entrance he saw the source of the trouble.  He could not say exactly what it was, only that killing it seemed like an excellent idea.

            It resembled a massive armored centipede, a dozen meters long and moving with blinding speed upon a hundred or so crab-like legs.  Four sets of big compound eyes the size of fists surrounded a circular maw covered in wiry black hairs.  The captain’s first burst ricocheted off the beast’s molted blue-grey plates and re-entered the cave, doubtless hitting a few of his own.  He turned his weapon’s muzzle velocity all the way up and fired again.  The recoil nearly put Billy on his ass but the creature’s armor failed it, falling backward and spraying them with a viscous black slime which likely served as blood.

            Even in the heavy, storm-soaked air, the stench was beyond foul and everyone was choking on it.  The captain turned to assess the damage.  Half a dozen people were bent over and emptying their stomachs, covered in the oily sludge that sprayed from the dead creature.  At least two were dead; holes he could fit an arm through pierced their torsos, and their blood swirled streaks of red into the black sludge that covered the ground.  A handful of people nursed small wounds inflicted by stray bullet fragments but that seemed to be the worst of it.

            A hand rapped Billy’s shoulder with force, drawing his attention to the slope approaching the cave.  The captain’s eyes went wide in horror as he turned to his people shouting.  “Grenades!  Bring up the grenades!  Move the wounded back and put up a barricade; now, now, now!”

            Twenty or more of the things were working their way up the hill towards them.  They seemed to stop periodically, waiting for stragglers to catch up so they could move in force.  Apparently they were smart enough to see there was trouble ahead and were coordinating their next attack with more care then the first.

            The initial sounds of gunfire erupted from a group of smaller caves further down as the makeshift wall of metal boxes piled up, barely discernable over the angry winds, hammering rain, and raging thunder.  Billy forced his way through the confusion to find Broden at the rear of the cave among the wounded.

            “Where’s the armor?” he yelled.  Several suits had been unpacked to help clear boulders and move heavy equipment but those were with men now sheltered on the far side of the hill, closest to their worksites.  The sail master’s eyes lit up and he demanded to be carried among the heavier packed crates to locate them.  Within a few minutes three suits had been located and a dozen crewmen helped Billy, Boarding Master Tuttuwalla and Provost Raab suit-up.

            Now ready to confront their enemies on their own, heavily armed terms, the captain led his two most senior raiders to the mouth of the cave; just barely in time.  Half a dozen were dead, their torsos pierced by the long tongues of the giant beasts, tipped with bony spear-like heads that passed through human bodies like so much tissue paper.  The barricade had all but collapsed and the creatures were poised to swarm inside and enjoy a fine meal.

            Billy began to open fire with a ten-gauge boarding gun, taking one of the creatures’ heads off with the first shot and knocking two more back from the mouth of the cave to tumble down the incline.  A long tongue struck him in the stomach but bounced off his armored duralloy shell, cracking the spiny lance-point at its tip.  The captain grabbed hold of it with his left hand and held tight, the creature flailing about to wrench itself loose.  Raising his free arm high, Billy extended his pinky and index fingers to activate the spring-loaded cutting blade mounted under his right forearm then severed the extremity.

            Oily black blood sprayed across him as the creature writhed in agony.  Billy shot its exposed belly which erupted in a mass of blood and meat, the creature dropping at once.  Communicating the softness of their opponents’ undersides to his companions, he forced his way out of the cave with Tuttuwalla and Raab on his heels.  Explosions sent rock, clay, and bits of flesh into the furious, rain-soaked winds that lashed the rise.  Even weighing close to four-hundred kilos in hydraulic battle armor, Billy could feel the sky pushing on him, threatening to topple him over.

            The rolling storm shadows were thick, blocking the light of the dancing suns, but shafts of lightning crashed all around them, illuminating the carnage in brief gory flashes.  More raiders joined them in power armor and hardsuits.  The invaders were pushed down the grade, forced into the narrow spurs and gullies near the base of the hillside and then butchered en mass.  Soon they wandered the area look for signs of more trouble but found none.  The creatures had all been killed or else vanished in the confusion and darkness.

            Billy removed his helmet and tucked it under his arm, heading for the crest of the hill.  As he neared the prominence he looked down on the caves where his people sheltered.  There was already a rush of activity while defenses were repaired.  The dead and wounded were inside awaiting the attention of their former shipmates and fellow castaways.  Likely around twenty dead, he guessed; another dozen or so torn up all to hell.  Could’ve been worse and likely will be yet.

            He turned his gaze upon the sky, the angry face of this unreceptive new world, still roaring in derision at the little primates who presumed to make themselves at home without her consent.  Perhaps word had reached it, the trouble these hairless space monkeys could cause, but the good captain doubted it.  Surely if this hapless little moon knew who it was dealing with, surely it would show some respect.

            “You think you’re bad?” he challenged with raised fists, the torrent of air and water beating him savagely but unable to douse his ire.

            “You think you can tell us what’s what?  Hear me now, little moon:  we’ve chewed-up and shit out a hundred worlds better then you!  We are the black hand of death and not even the void of Mother Night can constrain us!  You’ve met your match now, motherfucker!  We are Man!”