Crimson Star
By Jorge Cervantes
Codes: Sci-Fi Humor
Species: Human Cat-taur
Synopsis: Two guys and a spaceship. Throw in casinos, cat-taur's and a race of very upset bugs and you've got yourself quite the adventure.
Copyright: ? 2004 Jorge Cervantes. All rights reserved.
Chapter 1
My groggy mind registered the sounds of a beeping alarm clock. Of its own accord, my hand reached out for the nearest heavy object, what felt like a discarded wrench, and brought it down on the offending clock. Which just happened to be in my hand at the time.
"AAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHH!!!!!" I held my hand up to my face and sat up as the computer automatically turned on the lights of my small cabin. Trying to shake the pain away from my throbbing extremity, I didn't notice the swooshing sound of the door opening.
If you've never smashed your hand with a 1 lb. wrench as hard as you could, just try it sometime and see how you feel afterwards. Shutting my eyes, I tried to not think about it, which actually had the unfortunate effect of making me think about it even more. What's worse, the damned clock was still beeping.
The sharp pain was down to a dull throb when the door opened. It was Deuce, grinning like an idiot and putting his best innocent face on, one which had actually gotten him arrested a couple of times, "You ok, Griffin? What happened?"
"Like you don't know!" I snapped back at him.
The guy was a regular smart-ass, but he was good at what he did, so I kept him around. Not to mention he was one of the only friends I had left in this universe. Right now you're probably asking yourself, 'What the hell is this guy talking about?' Well, Deuce and I are both retired army rangers, actually I shouldn't say retired, more like dishonorably discharged, but I'm getting to that. We were part of one of the best special operation units in the Federated Planets of America. That is, we were until we got kicked out for taking out the wrong target, how the hell was I supposed to know that was the governor's palace? It's hard to tell the difference between a mansion and a smuggling ring's headquarters these days. Anyway, you probably already have an idea of what happened. Deuce and myself received a crappy assignment to "terminate" a smuggling ring's headquarters on a small world situated in a fringe system. Suffice to say that Deuce and I got the wrong directions and everything just went downhill from there. Now we were on our newly bought G-Class Nebula transport ship, taking on any job we could as mercenaries, body guards, bounty hunters...you get the drift. We were getting desperate since we used up the last of our savings on this ship, which isn't even really all that good, and were starting to run low on fuel and supplies.
"Come on man, I was gettin' tired of having to buy a box-full of alarm clocks every time we stop at a station," his grin widened, "besides, it woke you up didn't it?" I figured since I still had the wrench in my hand I might as well do something constructive with it. He barely managed to duck away from the wrench as I threw it at his head. I think he figured now was not the time to piss me off and left the cabin, shutting the door behind him. Rubbing my aching hand once more, I got up and started to get ready for a brand new day.
I made my way through the cramped corridors that ran the length of the ship, my half-finished breakfast still in hand. Someday I hoped to be able to sit down, relax, and actually finish my breakfast at the table, but for some reason, every attempt was thwarted by a call from the computer. There was always something wrong with the ship, it being the equivalent of a 21st century Ghetto truck. People still give me strange looks when I make such references, but it was understandable since most people hadn't even heard of old earth, much less the modes of transportation used in that time. The reason I know so much about old Earth? It's one of the few things left that interest me that don't go boom. Of course, that sounds more like something Deuce would say, him being a demolition expert and all. I guess it's also because of all those stories my parents would tell me, it seems that my ancestors were some of the few survivors of the cataclysm that destroyed the old earth. So my family has always had a special interest in that kind of stuff.
Those thoughts were running through my head when I finally came upon the bridge of our humble ship. I reached down for the last piece of bacon only to find that I had already eaten it, so I threw the plate into the recycling disposal next to the door. As I looked around, I took in everything around me, readying myself for the exit from the worm hole and the stressful in-system flight that would follow. The bridge, flight deck, whatever you want to call it, was a cramped area at the front of the ship, most of the space taken up by computers and other vital machinery. There were two padded chairs at the front where the computer interface could feed live images and AR, Augmented Reality, to the pilots. What it does is give information, highlights, and provide an interactive interface on live images. That way, you have all the information you need, and can do anything you need, without having to look down at instruments all the time. At the moment it was flashing a big warning that was required before coming back into normal space.
Deuce barely acknowledged me with a nod as I sat down at the pilot's seat, too preoccupied with the pre-entry preparations and checks that were a part of every copilot's job. Ever since worm hole travel had been discovered, traveling from star system to star system was quick and easy. In fact, it only took a couple of days to get from one side of the galaxy to another. I didn't really understand the science of it all, but some of what my old physics teacher had taught me, or tried to, had actually stuck.
As far as I understood it, ships somehow created an enormous amount of density, as much as that of a black hole, in a fixed space in front of them for a short time. This created a rip in the space-time continuum. Then, powerful generators were used to create a massive torrent of antimatter, or antigravity, to open up the rip, which originally had the diameter of the center of an atom.
The antimatter would also dilute the immense gravity of the temporary black hole. Once that was accomplished the ship's computers used sister particles to do the same thing to a location near the desired star system. To an outside watcher, the trip would be instantaneous, we would exit the worm hole on the same second that we entered; but to the traveler the trip was that of a few days, or hours, depending on the distance traveled. You would think that people would have shorter life spans because of this, but you gotta remember that "time" doesn't exist in a worm hole, that's why the trip can seem like it lasted for days, but in fact lasted less than a fraction of a second. That's also why people don't get old in there, since time is ineffective, as are most other known physics, the process of age just doesn't happen.
I was suddenly pressed into my seat and the previously blacked out screen now showed little white stars, one big sol type star in the middle. As regulations stated, we came out of the worm hole just outside of the solar system so as to have enough time to decelerate from about 99.995% light speed. The same reason that they didn't want ships appearing inside solar systems was the same reason that had pushed me back into my seat. As I said before, physics don't apply in a worm hole, and that includes inertia. The ship's compensators prevented me from becoming a puddle somewhere on a wall on the inside of the ship once we came out of the wormhole and physics took over again, but couldn't completely stop inertia from giving me a little reminder that it was still there. Also, if the ship came out just in front of another object and crashed at the speed it was going, the resulting release of energy could have catastrophic effects on everything around it. So space travelers are required to come out somewhere outside of the solar system so as to have enough time to decelerate to a manageable 80% light speed.
The most stressful part of the trip over, there's always the chance that the compensators might malfunction, both Deuce and I leaned back on our chairs and sighed. "Hey Deuce." I said without looking away from the screen, which still showed the approaching star system.
"Yeah?" He answered back sleepily. I knew he should have gotten more rest.
"What do you think we should do when we get to New Vegas?" The planet had been named after the famous old city that had been one of the first to go during the cataclysm.
"I just wanna get rid of the cargo and go visit some of those casinos I've heard so much about."
"Huh. I was thinking more along the lines of taking a look at that resort Mr. Macloon promised we could stay in."
Mr. Macloon was our employer, and the new proud owner of a 2010 Chevy Blazer, a rare find that would make a great addition to his personal museum of ancient artifacts.
"Hey. Doesn't the resort have a casino?" He suddenly sat up and looked at me. I smiled and nodded, "Haha! We really hit it off this time, man! A whole month of vacation on a first class resort and a nice little sum of cash, all for just bringing him an old car." Of course, he'd failed to mention that we were the only people desperate enough for money to take on the job cheap. This area had lately been turned into a war zone by two of the most powerful alien races, so ships were liable to get accidentally blown up by one of the warring parties because they thought it was an enemy scout or spy. The Crepalaenids, "Creepies" for short, were a race of sentient bug like creatures that had the basic mentality of an ant. They had hives, which had queens, the most powerful of which formed a council of rulers that had complete control over every member of the species. The creatures themselves were segmented into three parts, almost as thick as they were long, and had seven pairs of legs, the last of which had claws that acted like hands. Their size varied, workers being about the size of a dog while guards could be the size of a small car.
The race they were fighting called themselves something unpronounceable by humans, so people generally settled on Felids. The reason for this was that their lower bodies and heads resembled a mix of the now extinct earth tigers and endangered lions. Between the body and head was a human-like torso, sort of like the centaurs of legend. They were completely covered in fur, whose patterns varied from Felid to Felid, though they could be inherited. Like humans, they had developed a sense of fashion for their "hair", which was actually more like a soft mane that grew on the top of their heads. Although they had hands, those four fingered extremities were equipped with retractable claws, as were the rest of their appendages, which were six in total.
No one knew exactly why these two were fighting, the war had started pretty recently and the cause was still unknown, but the Felids had always been friendly to humans, so a lot of people felt inclined to take their side. Of course, the official declaration by the senate of the Federated Planets of America was that humans were to be neutral on the subject and, though he didn't seem happy about it, the president had agreed. But that still didn't stop those who were determined to provide sanctuary and supplies.
Deuce once again sat back in his chair and closed his eyes dreamily, "It's almost too good to be true." He commented offhand.
"Careful, dude, or you'll jinx it." I replied in good humor. About three seconds later, the weapons lock alarm blared to life.
Chapter 2
I sat up from my slouched position on the captain's seat, nearly smashing my head on the overhead panel. Looking over, I saw that Deuce was already running a scan on the immediate area. If we were lucky it would be a Felid ship, the most they would do would be to run a check on us to see if we were enemy spies or smugglers then send us on our way when they saw we weren't. The Crepalaenids, however, would either board our ship and take everything we owned, killing us in the process, or blow us into space dust.
"Creepy scout-ship coming our way, Griff," Deuce answered my question before I could even ask. Reaching over, I smacked him upside the head, "Ow! What was that for!?" he winced and checked for a bruise.
"I told you not to jinx it, Deuchbag!" he opened his mouth as if to complain but chuckled instead and turned back to the weapons console. I followed his example and set the control of the ship to manual.
A scout-ship was the smallest and weakest type of military ship you could find, concentrating on stealth and speed rather than power, but even a simple scout-ship could easily overcome something as outdated as a G-Class transport. We weren't completely helpless, Deuce had called in some favors with a friend of his that specialized in heavy artillery and weaponry and had managed to get us some pretty decent firepower. Our little Nebula was equipped with 2 Nova missiles and 15 Swarmers; much more than a regular transport ship, then again, we weren't exactly regular transport crew. We also had an antimissile laser located on the underside of the ship that could be used as a weapon if we somehow managed to take their shields down. Shields could absorb large amounts of energy, but kinetic weapons went right through them. Of course, even shields could be overloaded with enough power, but because of developments in shield technology it was simply a lot easier to mag-canons or missiles. These days, lasers were
The view screen went to battle-mode and showed the weapons, shield, and armor statistics along with the scanner display. The scout-ship was about half a light-minute away and had just fired two Nova missiles in our direction, which would take a little over 45 seconds to get here. Deuce immediately activated the antimissile laser and fired, taking out both missiles in three shots. Meanwhile, I was busy trying to perform some evasive maneuvers at the same time as finding a place far away from here that we could escape to through a wormhole. Preferably somewhere close to a Felid stronghold, they wouldn't follow us there. "Uhh, Griff." Deuce tried to get my attention while he tapped away at the weapons console.
"Yeah, what is it?" I snapped hastily, not in need of any distractions at the moment.
"We've got a problem." By the tone of his voice it didn't seem like it was a small one, either. I was just about to make a witty comment (really, I was!) when I noticed that the little whine the laser makes when it's activated and ready to fire was gone.
"Oh, Hell." I said, my mouth suddenly dry.
"I'll be seeing you there if something doesn't stop those Swarmers they just fired at us." Deuce was staring intently at the scanner display, which showed a bunch of little red dots heading straight for the big green dot at the center of the 3D display.
"Imminent collision, please brace for sudden impact. Have a nice day." the computer stated in it's calm, gender-less voice that so often grated on my nerves. Then the missiles hit.
"Griff...hey Griff...WAKE UP!" I opened my eyes and sat up, only to be rewarded by a pounding headache, "We're alive, man!" Deuce seemed to be happy enough.
"How long have I been out?" I asked. It couldn't have been that long, otherwise I would have woken up with a Creepy pointing a gun at my head.
"A couple of minutes. I'm thinkin' they want to take us alive, 'cause they only hit our generators. Hell, even the antique is ok." count on Deuce to think of the job when we were about to be boarded and killed.
"Go get our guns. If we're going down, we're going down fighting." I shook my head, trying to get that incessant buzz to go away.
"Hey, how many of them could a scout-ship have, right? Maybe if we take them all out we can take over their ship and get out of here. We could even buy a new ship with the money from the antique." Deuce sounded more like he was trying to convince himself.
"Right." Hopelessness tinged my voice. I knew it wouldn't be as easy as saying it. Creepies were nearly as hard to kill as roaches and much smarter, a ship-load of them would probably overrun us in minutes.
The headache still hadn't gone away when I stood up and headed for the stash of weapons we kept in the ship for just such an occasion. Of course, we'd never really thought that we'd need to use them, most pirates wouldn't waste their time on a piece of crap like our ship. We each picked up an assault rifle. The gun was light and conformed its grip to fit my hand perfectly? it?d been a while since I had to hold one of these, but the instinct never really died.
Laser weaponry was rare, so only rich planets or star-systems with strong economies could afford to equip their soldiers with them. Even then, laser guns were large, unwieldy and could blow a hole in the hull of a ship, so most soldiers preferred the more conventional assault rifles, which used electromagnetic charges to fire alloy bullets at extremely high speeds with almost no recoil.
Glancing up, I saw the glass case that contained my dad's old plasma gun. That type of weapon had been made illegal in almost all of the star-systems a long time ago, and this is one of the very few left after most the people that used to make them were arrested and executed. They're not illegal now, but nobody really knows how to make them anymore so it doesn't really matter.
It was the gun my dad had used while he'd been a ranger in the Federation Space Force. The one he'd used in the battle of Station 13. They tell me he died bravely, firing to his last breath. I wouldn't really know, or care; the point is that my dad's never going to be there for me. The only place I can ever see him again is in my dreams. I hadn't known until then how pointless it all is, but I still do it anyway. I still fight for what I believe in because it's what my dad died doing; it's what I'll die doing someday as well.
I tore my gaze away from the glass case, I couldn't afford to have those thoughts in my mind right now. For about 10 minutes the only sounds that could be heard were of Deuce and I putting up a barricade a few yards away from the entrance, we'd need some kind of cover for what was coming next.
The ship was split into three sections, the living section, the bridge, and the storage room. We were in the latter at the moment, which was the biggest and most reinforced section of the ship. Here, we didn't have to worry so much about stray bullets hitting important equipment.
Our steps echoed off the walls, making the large room seem all the more intimidating. We hadn't bothered to paint the place, so it was still colored a dull gray that didn't help the lighting one bit. The single, powerful light at the center of the domed ceiling couldn't reach all the corners, leaving more than a few places in shadow. I began to wonder if we shouldn't have put up more lights; under current conditions the place was starting to look like an abandoned grave site. I voiced my thoughts to Deuce, who simply reached up to run his hand through his unruly black hair. My own blond hair was still nothing more than a buzz cut only because I was too lazy to comb it every morning.
"Hey, you think maybe we shouldn't have taken the job? None of this would've happened if we hadn't."
"You can't know these things, Griff. We knew the risks when we said yes, now we'll just have to deal with it like we do every time." he stopped what he was doing and looked over his shoulder at me.
I chuckled, "The glass is always half full with you, isn't it?"
"Life would be too depressing if it wasn't."
We both went back to work after that, trying not to think of what would happen in a few minutes. Hearing a slight scratching noise, I looked over at the door from where it was coming from, "Deuce, I think our guests have arrived."
He barely got to turn around and look before a large explosion rocked the ship. We both fell backwards behind our improvised barricade. Peeking my head from cover, I could see that where there used to be a reinforced Synapsium door there was now a gaping hole. Suddenly, the gap was filled by the large body of a Creepy attack drone. In one of its front claws it held a device that basically looked like a large tube with a hole on one end, almost like a handheld rocket launcher. Creepies seemed to be addicted to the large and powerful, and their weapons were proof of that. Instead of firing hundreds of shots a minute like a Federation assault rifle, it fired one big bullet that could dent the hull of an armored warship, as opposed to our assault rifles who wouldn't even scratch it.
They probably had only one drone armed with one of those, since the use of more carried the risk of blowing a hole in the ship and killing everyone in the room, including them. The rest would probably carry modified versions of our own assault rifles. I put my head down when the drone started looking around. In a few moments, it would move aside to let its companions in.
"We'll take out the one with the big gun first, ok?" I whispered to Deuce my very basic plan and he nodded in response, "On three. Ready?" he nodded again, "One...two...THREE!" We both stood up and fired, barely taking time to aim at the surprised Creepies. One of the seven was ripped to shreds by bullets before it could react, then we both ducked down as they returned fire. Our flexi-steel lined flight suits would protect us for a short time, but they were designed to withstand space, not alloy bullets.
"We got him," Deuce exclaimed, "You're sure they're only gonna have one of those, right?" he barely got to finish asking before a large explosion ripped an even larger hole in our barricade only a few feet from where we were. I shook my head, his question already answered, and would have laughed if it wasn't for the fact that the next shot might actually hit us.
"Lets move before they figure out they missed," I said and Deuce grimaced but followed anyway. We both began to crawl sideways along the barricade, trying to avoid being hit by ricocheting bullets. The constant fire stopped abruptly and both Deuce and I jumped forward as another large hole was ripped open just where we had been a few moments before.
"How do they know where we are?" Deuce quickly backed away from the gaping hole.
"Didn't you pay attention during the Anthropology lessons?" I practically had to shout to be heard above the constant fire, they should be starting to advance soon.
"About as much attention as you paid during math class." In other words, none at all.
I sighed, "They can feel the vibrations we make in the floor whenever we move, I'm surprised they missed the first time." The creepy had probably taken time to adjust to the new gravity and environment. It wouldn't be off target again, and we only had a window of a few seconds to move between the time they stopped firing to let it judge where we were, and the shot that would rip another hole in our barricade, and possibly us.
For a second, Deuce just simply stared at me, then cocked his head as the Creepies stopped firing once more. We moved and another hole appeared in our rapidly dwindling barricade. "Next time they stop shooting we'll stand up and try to take out the one with the big gun before he can fire." I said calmly. It should work.
"I hate you." Deuce stated matter-of-factly and stood up with me when they stopped firing again. We aimed and opened fire, putting several hundred holes into a Creepy exoskeleton.
"Two down, five to go." Adrenaline was rushing through my veins, we might just make it out of this alive. So far I'd only been hit three times, all of which had been deflected by the flight suit. One of their bullets had ripped through the sleeve of Deuce's suit, drawing blood but not causing any serious damage. It had only grazed the skin of his arm. Apparently they were having a hard time seeing us in the low lighting.
We stood up and opened fire for the third time, causing some damage to two more of them. Waiting a few seconds for the return fire to slack, we stood up and fired again. We could definitely get ourselves out of this little mess. CLICK-CLICK. Incredulous, I looked down at my depleted rifle then ducked when a bullet passed close enough to my face for me to feel a breeze.
I tapped Deuce on the shoulder when he ducked, "I'm out of ammo." I stated flatly.
"What are you talkin? about? You only used up half your clip." he seemed as surprised as me.
"I don't think your friend sold us fully loaded guns." Deuce grinned at my comment.
"Just like old Bobby to cheat his friends. Hell, the man would cheat his own parents if it saved him some money."
"You know, this is some information I could've used BEFORE I bought the damned guns!" I glared at Deuce, someday I'd have to teach him the basics of ?need-to-know basis?. There are just some things I need to know that he neglects to tell me until the worst possible moment. We covered our heads as another flurry of fire from the Creepies reminded us of our current problems.
Deuce grimaced and nodded, indicating that maybe this wasn't the best time for this conversation. I had to get my hands on some sort of weapon...That last thought trailed off as my eyes wondered back to the glass case holding my dad's old plasma gun, "I hope it still works." I muttered to myself.
I think he noticed where I was looking because Deuce suddenly stood up and once again peppered the Creepies with bullets, the perfect cover fire. Dashing forward, I snatched the gun, glass case and all, and ran back toward the barricade; I hadn't had the foresight of making it long enough to reach all the way over to the display case. So far, the Creepies hadn't been nearly as formidable as we'd thought they would be. Maybe it had to do with the atmosphere, or maybe they weren?t expecting a fight? their total lack of battle armor suggested the latter. Anyway, I managed to get back to the cover of the barricade without being shot, though a few bullets came pretty close.
Once back in the barricade, I opened the display case and reverently removed the gun from within. Now where was the "on" button?
"Yo, Griff! They're starting to advance, I think they finally figured out that you're out of ammo." Deuce ducked back down and spared the plasma gun a glance before peeking his head out of the barricade to check on the Creepies' position.
"Yeah, yeah. Just keep you pants on, those roaches aren't gonna like what happens once I figure out how to turn this thing on." I felt along the gun for any signs of a switch or button. Looking up, I noticed Deuce's mouth was hanging open.
"I thought it was your dad's gun!" I'm not sure whether he looked like he was about to laugh or cry.
"It is? he just never got around to teaching me how to use it," I commented offhand, "Aha! There it is!" I found the small switch just above the trigger guard and flicked it on. The short, front end of the hourglass shaped barrel began to spin. As it gained speed, it emitted a high-pitched whistling sound until it reached a climax and stayed there, by then the four spikes protruding from the front were nothing but blurs.
"Cool." Guessing that the high pitched whine meant it was fully charged and ready to fire, Deuce and I got ready to stand up and start the final assault of the invading Creepies. I found the power-setting and set it to low, not wanting to burn a hole into the hull of the ship. This thing should give me five shots on that setting, three in medium, or one in high before I had to change the cartridge. Fortunately, my dad had left plenty of spare charges... I only wish he?d left directions on how to use them damn thing.
Counting to three for the last time, Deuce and I stood up. The world seemed to slow as I aimed the pistol, Deuce and the Creepies already firing away. But I had to be more careful than that, I only had five shots. I pulled the trigger and saw a small ball of yellow energy form inside of the blurring spikes. It got bigger and bigger until I thought it would touch the spikes themselves then suddenly shot forward in a burst that burned a gaping hole through one of the Creepies and four of the six inches of synapsium steel that made up the ship's hull, all in a little less than a second.
Deuce had managed to finish off one of the ones he'd wounded earlier and concentrated his fire on the next one. I fired once more, putting a hole into another of the Creepies and again burning away most of the ship's hull where the blast hit. The last one left made an attempt to flee but was cut down by Deuce's assault rifle before it could take five steps. We'd made it. We had several scratches and bruises, and I think one of the bullets had put a gash in my right thigh because it hurt like hell and I couldn't put any weight on it. But we'd made it through, alive and generally unhurt. Deuce looked over at me with that stupid grin on his face that wasn't looking all that stupid right at the moment since I probably had the same one on my own face.
"Ok? that was easy."