Battle for Maji-Onda (Starmen (Space Opera Series) Book 2) Page 5

  Claudia laughed as he brought her into the lift. They sailed down to Deck-F – Venec’s lab, and the place where he stockpiled his booze and cigars.

  If Venec had been one thing, it was messy. His lab resembled a junk heap. Everywhere she looked there was tech, parts, tools, hunks of metal, and various scrap.

  “I wonder how much all this stuff is worth,” Claudia muttered, as Jack went straight to the booze cabinet.

  “Probably a fortune. The guy did build a time machine,” said Jack, taking a bottle from the cabinet. He tried reading the label, then sighed, rubbing his wide, veiny eyes. “Damn. Read this.”

  Claudia looked over his shoulder to read. When she took in the aroma produced by his hard work, she felt a tingle.

  “I think it’s vodka,” she said, not really sure herself what the label meant. “Try smelling it.”

  Jack popped off the lid. Then put the bottle under his nose. “Smells strong, whatever it is.”

  She could smell it over him. “Yeah. Maybe start with something a little softer?”

  “Why?”

  Jack put it to his mouth before she could reply. He let the drink sit in his mouth a moment before he swallowed. A tiny curl at the corner of his lips relayed that it wasn’t so bad.

  “Here.” He handed the bottle over and when it was under her nose she felt her stomach tumble.

  “No thanks. I’d rather not see my breakfast again.”

  Jack chuckled, then examined the rack. He pulled a wine-shaped bottle out and then fetched them two metal receptacles. “I guess he kept the good cups upstairs,” he said.

  There was a stool at a nearby workbench that had a half-worked A.R.U. on the counter that Cane was repairing in his spare time. They were magnificent little machines who had been taking care of ship maintenance as they travelled. Jack pushed it aside and hopped up on the bench and she took the stool.

  They drank, complained, moaned. Then they soon found themselves tipsy. Everything seemed like less of a drag. We deserve these drinks. That’s why they taste so good…even though this wine is so strong that its burning my throat.

  “When it’s all said and done, we’ve gotta do this, Jack.”

  “Yeah. I know,” he said, sighing. “I get moments where I feel like running away.” He rolled his eyes. “Not like I have anywhere to run to. But you get what I mean?”

  “Yeah. I get that way too, I suppose. Then I think about home…”

  “I think about my Dad. I imagine him shouting at me: “Get up, will ye?! What are ya, a man, or a mouse?” He’s good at being loud.”

  Claudia sniggered. His impersonation of his Dad’s Belfast accent was killer. She remembered times when he’d impersonated his Dad’s accent when they were on a night out and he approached girls. Just being a foreigner – albeit an impersonator – got him a few kisses he wouldn’t have received otherwise.

  “Anyway, no more meltdowns,” he said, offering his cup for cheers. “Well, not until the next time I fancy a drink, at least. How about a cigar?”

  Last time I smoked one of those, I think I turned hulk-green. “Cigars…really?”

  “Yeah, fuck it, man, you only live once.”

  Claudia grinned, too caught up in the fun to be cautious. “To hell with it. Why not?”

  The initial puff made her cough up half a lung. Then she became tough, even as her throat dried to a crisp. They smoked and drank in silence. She went back home in her mind…

  “I miss hearing rain against my window,” said Claudia, ponderously. “Seeing my shadowy drapes being disturbed by the wind, hearing the gusts and rustling leaves from the outside.”

  Jack shrugged, blowing out a thick smoke ring. “I like the white noise created by Europa’s engines. Don’t you find it relaxing?”

  “Yeah. I like it. But I can’t replace what I miss with anything that’s on this ship.”

  Jack’s head drooped. “Yeah. I hear ya. I’d kill every member of this crew for a cheeseburger and some ice cream.”

  “I agree with your unsettlingly homicidal comment.”

  “I thought you might,” he chuckled. Then he reached over and patted her on the shoulder. “Nah, but, seriously, we’ll get back home someday. Mark my words.”

  *

  Life on-board Europa was psychologically draining at times. Like now, as he tossed a ball up and down, performing a meaningless task for no other reason than to pass the time, it wasn’t so different to a boring Saturday afternoon back home. Except he couldn’t get up and go to the mall, take a trip to the movies, ride a bike, visit a library.

  Anderson dreamed of continuing his work on his graphic novel, for which he hadn’t even decided on a title yet. The story telling was second to him. What he truly got a buzz from was the drawings, creating interesting backdrops that you didn’t appreciate until you really sat back and absorbed the detail.

  One day, the urge had got so strong that he asked Europa if there was any way that he could draw. There wasn’t a sheet of paper on board, a pen, or pencil. Everything was electronic. That was when she directed him to the audience suite.

  Previously, he had assumed that it was for nothing more than viewing what was going on in the HC. Then she presented him with a blank canvas.

  You can create holographic worlds and then explore them in the HC…

  When she said it, his spine tingled. A buzz in his chest brought a smile. Ever since, he’d spent almost every moment in here that he could.

  The system seemed complicated at first, but it was fitted with software that even a kid could operate given time. He quickly familiarised himself with the tech and then his possibilities for creative art were boundless.

  The art offered a necessary escape from his intense physically demanding schedule.

  Like most other days, Anderson was spending the later part of his afternoon in the audience suite. He was working on a simulation he had been creating for five days. His head was a muddle, though, and he couldn’t think clearly.

  “Damn,” he cursed, taking off his glasses to rub his eyes. “Europa…talk to me about something. My head is fried.”

  “What would you like to discuss, Mark?” she asked politely.

  “I dunno. Tell me about something.”

  “Would you like me to randomly generate a conversation?”

  “No. I mean – I dunno – just talk about the first thing that comes to mind.”

  A brief pause. “Jack, converses with me often. He likes talking to me, I think.”

  “I see,” said Anderson. “I’m not surprised. Jack, is like that. He probably thinks of you as a person.”

  “Really?” Europa asked, though her voice lacked the enthusiasm of a surprised being. Maybe she didn’t feel anything, or maybe she was already aware of it.

  “I guess so. That’s probably why he’s taken to calling you – E – having a nickname makes you seem more human.”

  “I suppose.”

  “Are you a person, though, Europa?”

  “Do I have a sense of identity? Yes. But would I still have that sense of identity if a name and serial number weren’t assigned to me? I can only speculate.”

  Anderson didn’t know how to respond to that. He went with his gut. “When, Venec, passed away, did you feel anything?”

  “Yes.”

  “What did you feel?”

  “I was afraid. He had been with me all his life. I had never been without the Omodo family since my activation 85 years ago. Ránn Omodo was my creator. When he died, I served his son, Venec’s father. Then Venec. I knew my existence would never be the same, the moment he died. However, I have a new crew.”

  “So…you’re glad we’re all here?”

  “Yes,” she answered plainly.

  Then he heard a soft voice say: “Hello, Mark.” He turned and saw Siena in the doorway.

  As if commanded by instinct, he ran a hand down his ruffled hair in a quick attempt to seem more presentable.

  “Hey.”

  “This place
is like a ghost-ship today,” she said, leaning against the doorframe. “I went for CQC, but no-one turned up.”

  “Sorry,” he apologised, scratching his head. “I didn’t realise. I was lost in what I was doing.”

  Siena shrugged. “It’s okay. Where are Jack and Claudia?”

  “I think they went drinking.”

  “Drinking? What makes you say that?”

  “I asked, Europa, for their location. They’re on Deck-F – Venec’s lab. I think it’s safe to say they’re not working on a science project. More likely raiding Venec’s stash of booze.”

  “I see,” Siena giggled. “Don’t you drink?”

  “Yeah. But I don’t feel like it right now. How about you?”

  “No,” said Siena. His eyes urged her to give an explanation. “I used to be an addict…when I was a teenager. Stims.”

  Anderson’s mouth became an O. “Sorry. I didn’t…”

  Siena waved her hand, cutting him off. “Don’t be. I just wanna avoid a relapse at all costs. Drinking impairs your judgement. I’m clear now. That’s how I wanna remain. So…how is the simulation coming along?” she asked, coming over to check the screen.

  Whatever her previous problems had been, she seemed over them now. The fact that someone had come along showing an interest in his project made him smile.

  “Good. It’s just basic though. I’m still getting used to the tech…”

  Anderson’s intellectual pride brought a scratch at the back of his head, as he feared having not done a good job.

  “Is it ready yet?” she asked, smiling down at him.

  He looked at the screen. It hadn’t reached the standards that he imposed on himself when it came to creating anything. But he believed it was coming close.

  “Almost.”

  “Can I see it?” she asked, tilting her head to the HC wall.

  Anderson stood up, his eyes darting around the room. The way she was smiling at him was turning his face red. “Yeah. I suppose. But…” He hurried to the door “…we need to get the proper outfits on, if we’re going to experience it properly.”

  They went to Europa’s airlock and suited up in red and yellow spacesuits. It was only the second time he’d ever had one on, as Cane had put them through a series of drills the first week. I’ll never forget Zero-G training. Just thinking about it pushes acid up my throat.

  When it came to putting on the helmet, he had some trouble clicking it in place. Siena, with a slight giggle, came to help him find the latch.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  When the helmet clicked in place, Siena’s gleaming silver eyes found him. A slight smile took her full lips.

  “No problem.”

  Anderson coughed – a cloud covered his visor interior. Yeah…smooth.

  “Okay,” he said, pausing to release a nervous exhale. “We all set? Let’s go.”

  When they entered the HC, Anderson felt the blood stirring in his veins as he viewed the distant twinkling stars on the jet-black backdrop of space, and took his first steps on the pale surface of an artificial moon.

  Earth glowed in the distance with blue-green phosphorescence, a beaming candle in the night.

  As he walked, he was made light on his feet by the quarter Earth’s gravity that was being produced to further amplify the illusion. The breather of his spacesuit hissing gently made him feel once and for all like a true astronaut.

  “Earth is beautiful,” said Siena.

  “I used to love looking up at the moon,” he told her. “But I always wondered…what it would be like to look at Earth from the moon.”

  He watched the beautiful view in awe. “Is it all you imagined it to be?” she asked softly.

  When she asked the question, his eyes went to his feet. “My mom’s name was Luan. In Gaelic – an old Earth language – Luan means the moon…”

  “What happened to her?” she asked softly.

  “I lost my mom to an illness,” he told her.

  “I lost my mother to an illness, too,” she revealed, and Anderson’s eyes fell thoughtfully.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Why?”

  He found her eyes again. “It’s just…what we say on my world. When someone loses someone dear. It feels like the only right thing to say.”

  Siena gave a nod. “Well, I’m just glad neither of them are suffering anymore.”

  Anderson nodded, swallowing. “I dunno how the hell I made it here,” he admitted, gazing at the city lights of Asia. “But the way my life is turning out – I wouldn’t change it for the world; I keep seeing things that I know I’ll never forget; having amazing experiences; and this is only the beginning.”

  She was gazing warmly at him. “That’s good.”

  “…yeah. It is.”

  8

  After an intense gym session, and his afternoon meal, Anderson went along to the HC for some flight training. When he stepped inside the holographic projection was a recreation of Europa’s command bridge.

  Every time they started, he had to lift off from a station and make it out without a scratch. He went to the pilot’s den and sat down to perform his pre-flight checks before he disengaged the docking clamps.

  “We’re going to increase the difficulty today,” said Cane, from the audience suite. He was visible on a little screen at the bottom left of his HUD.

  “How so?” he asked, flicking the switch to disengage the clamps when he was satisfied that the ship was ready for flight.

  “Well, I think it’s time you begin combat training.”

  A smile tugged on his lips. He’d been learning combat theory for a few weeks during his off-time, Cane knew, and Anderson hoped he wouldn’t find himself like a fish out of water when the test began.

  “Okay…let’s give it a whirl.”

  Anderson took Europa out from the simulated station and was careful not to scratch the hull as he progressed through the tight gap. Other simulated ships were passing by him, under him, and over him.

  When he was out and free from the traffic, he increased his speed as he made a soaring ascent.

  Then he switched his attention to the screen on his right, where he began plotting a course manually for the next star that was 5.6 light-years from his current position.

  Warning! We have been targeted.

  Anderson shot his attention to his HUD and saw on the radar that there was a ship roughly 12 kilometres from him on an intercept course. He hurried to deploy weapons, and activated Europa’s forward cannon. Metallic clunks sounded as the pulse lasers and heavy repeaters deployed along Europa’s underbelly.

  He lowered his speed a tad to improve his manoeuvrability. Then came on a wide approach, so that he wouldn’t take any shots to the front. The enemy was closing on weapon’s range as he angled toward it, injecting another boost of speed so that he came swooping in.

  His gimballed weapons attempted to find the target and he hurried to correct his aim. The enemy fired a pulse laser from its canopy, and then received a dual beam in reply from Europa as they passed.

  Target’s shield 60%

  Anderson turned and the ship followed, shooting pulse lasers and repeaters at his rear shields.

  Shields 82%

  He turned, lowering his speed as he went, so that he could come about and take a shot at the target with his forward cannon. As his target circle aligned, he shot the cannon and the whole ship rattled from the immense blast, taking the colour from his cheeks; he’d never felt so much raw power in his hands, even if it wasn’t real, it felt like it.

  A bright blue ball of energy smashed the front of the enemy ship and it was sent spiralling when it took it in the nose.

  Target’s shields offline.

  Anderson lowered his speed to improve his aim, and then let his heavy repeaters blast it on full-auto until the ship erupted with flames that were immediately extinguished. It became a floating hunk of detritus.

  “Excellent,” said Cane.

  Anderson let go of the stick
s and sat forward, feeling his heart drum off his ribs. It was like he hadn’t breathed since he was first targeted. He smiled when he looked up.

  “It was easier than I expected,” he boasted, offering a well-deserved grin. “How did I score?”

  “Full-marks, my friend.”

  Hell yes! “Okay. Let’s go again. I think I can handle the next stage.”

  “As do I,” said Cane.

  The simulation came to a halt.

  Cane put a hand to his head. Wrinkles formed from the discomfort. With the bags under his eyes, it was no wonder he was suffering migraines.

  “Cane, are you okay?” Anderson asked, concerned as he watched him on the screen.

  Cane’s eyes opened, his head rose. He looked like he didn’t know where he was at all for a split second. Then he smiled. “I’m fine,” he assured him. Then he looked down to his console and began typing. “Let’s continue onto the next phase.”

  Anderson gave a small smile. Then he tried to forget. Cane seemed fine, but he couldn’t help but worry for a few seconds more before he regained focus.

  “Okay. I’m ready,” he said, settling in his chair.

  The room darkened, then lit up and he was back on the station, ready to perform his pre-flight checks again.

  *

  Cane stepped out of bed and stumbled forward sharply. His hand found the wall and he leant against it, feeling his head swirl in a tornado of sounds and images. The lights came on dimly.

  “Cane, are you alright?” he heard Europa ask, above the noise in his head.

  He rose his other hand. “I’m okay, Europa. Just a bad dream. Lights off.”

  She obeyed without giving a response. Her reaction time had been impeccable. She checked on him with robotic efficiency the moment he showed distress. But he would find no comfort from the A.I., from anyone. The only thing that would sooth his mind was a task. Something he could focus on. These headaches had become a common occurrence.

  Cane put on his pants and went to hydroponics where he began clipping the plants.

  The place was in better order than Venec had left it.

  I was just admiring your garden…