Stevens Outer Marker

1. Auflage 2013
ISBN: 978-1-301-05079-6
Verlag: Distributed via Smashwords
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: Adobe DRM (»Systemvoraussetzungen)

E-Book, Englisch, 279 Seiten

In a distant galaxy in the far-off future, a combat veteran just wants to settle down, raise his kids as a single father, and earn a decent wage piloting a starship. But to former members of his old unit, his skills and knowledge are too valuable to be wasted as they attempt to uncover a deadly plot being hatched by their new masters. As he is unwittingly drawn deeper into the web of secrets, many strange and unexplained occurrences will force him to uncover clues and make him choose sides. The mystery's culmination lies in explaining how an entire planet has been made to disappear from the galaxy.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Stevens, Eric

Leseproben

Chapter One

“Hey, can you kids quiet down back there?” Jim attempted to get the first of four auxiliary power units primed and started as his kids were squirming and harassing each other right behind him.

In their seats they didn’t have much of a view, but that didn’t stop them from trying to inch up and see out the windows. Jim had just picked them up from a ten-day daycare vacation and had almost forgotten what happens when they got all riled up and anxious to go home. Too bad the trip home would be seven hours across two atmospheres.

Since arriving at this planet the previous evening, Jim had been able to pay the bills and get some errands done. He picked up lumber to fix Ariel’s cabin, seedlings that would be suspended for next year’s planting, and a whole bay full of supplies that St. Catherines would need when no one could get off-site.

He and the kids arrived at the airport. The kids’ gear was stowed. He could not believe how much crap they needed to bring for ten days away from home. For him, packing wasn’t much of a chore; but to get everyone’s baggage together and lug it around was too much for his patience. He was happy to leave them behind for this ten-day summer camp, but the trip from the camp to the ship was a pain because the kids pleaded for him to carry all their stuff.

His mind wandered. Back home at the hamlet, the warm season was ramping up and the hot rainy season would soon follow. This meant that the distillation, bottling, and shipping of their main export had to be accomplished in short time, unless the workers wanted to be miserable, overheated, and soaking wet. This meant work for Jim.

Jim did odd jobs and scheduled deliveries to make money for his family and to help the community. Occasionally, he picked up a charter load doing specific work and high-end runs, which paid very well. Transport of high-value bonded goods to dangerous regions was not left for the faint of heart. Dangerous areas pervaded multiple systems, even at the core planetary systems. A competent captain never underestimated the potential for danger, regardless of where they were traveling. Thankfully, Jim had one of the fastest ships in the region and could bid for specific delivery contracts with confidence.

Most freighter captains of slower ships did not want this responsibility. They claimed the insurance was too high for the hassle and that they would be marked by thieves, hijackers, and other unsavory characters that sought a quick payout. Jim’s ship did have some defensive systems installed, but it wasn’t much to count on, considering what the pirates and bandits were lugging around on their raiders. When faced with danger, he knew he could rely on the ship’s speed for escape. The wealthier shipping brokers knew this and trusted Jim to see that their cargoes arrived at their intended destinations safe and sound.

As he wrapped up his documentation for port authorities and helped the kids settle into their seats, he knew no one would be going anywhere before the three children received their snacks. They stared out the windows in anticipation of their snacks and of leaving. Six windows that wrapped around the nose and two windows above the pilot and co-pilot seat provided a 180-degree view and allowed those in the cockpit to see everything in front of and above the ship. Convinced there were no ships on the tarmac coasting toward him and he could walk about, he got up from the pilot’s chair and passed the kids, who occupied the other command seats. Originally when this class of ship was still used for war as a light transport and medium bomber, the front two seats were intended for pilot and co-pilot and the two seats right behind were for navigator and communications officer. Jim didn’t have a need for the two obsolete officer positions anymore and rarely asked for a co-pilot, so he and his children comfortably filled the four chairs.

His youngest daughter was checking out a screen attached to the hand-rest of her seat. She had turned it to the local meteorological station and sat quietly looking at the radar image of rainstorms that recently passed through this area. Jim had already made sure the screens and controls were set to specific tasks so no one could manipulate flight and performance of the ship. Now, if they wished, passengers who flew with Jim as paying customers could view the flight plan and progress on one of the three liquid crystal displays attached to their chairs.

Although the four flight chairs provided some comfort to Jim and fellow travelers, the flight deck was still a bit cramped. Along the sides where the fuselage made a wide slope, the chairs butted against additional flight controls, as well as the center console that took up most of the room between the pilot and co-pilots chairs. While one could relax comfortably in the chair and even stretch his legs with ample legroom, extending one’s arms out fully would mean either hitting the fuselage or the passenger next to them.

He walked to a small open area behind the four chairs. The crew-access door there was closed flush to the floor, but when the hatch was lifted by a recessed handle, anyone could engage a small lever and stairs would lower via hydraulics right behind the front landing gear. About a meter past the crew egress hatch, Jim took two paces past two aluminum-framed foldable bunks with canvas backing that hung on the port side of the ship. Stopping at the compact galley next to the small lavatory that took up the starboard side of the back bulkhead, he retrieved the zuzu fruit juice and orange and apple snacks for the kids.

Before returning to the kids, he glanced into a porthole at the rear bulkhead. The small round window of thick glass provided a wide-angle view through the large airtight hatch access to the three lower cargo bays and two remaining compartments in the back on the ship. He spied the narrow catwalk that was suspended above the roofs of each bay and determined that the back of the ship was good to go. Satisfied by his visual safety check, he turned his six-foot frame back toward the cockpit. He quietly handed each child the cup of juice and plate of cut fruit.

The children quieted and Jim began the preflight sequencing. Preflight was straightforward; he had done it thousands of times. Although his ship had a specific model type and name, he preferred to call it the Gazelle. The Gazelle was a good little ship, only 18 years old, relatively new by shipping standards. Known to be well manufactured, it had a solid frame and four good engines that, when tuned every two-and-a-half to three years, provided him all the power and reliability that he needed.

As soon as the snacks were consumed, the kids fidgeted in their seats. Fortunately, they were tightly belted; they could barely reach their fingers to one another. The twins were side by side next to one another, and next to Jim in the co-pilot seat sat Isabella. Izzy was under strict orders not to touch any of the switches, dials, and, especially, the throttles or control stick. Jim had seen how much damage could occur when the flight was suddenly and unexpectedly upset because someone decided to mess with the controls of the craft.

While waiting for the engines to warm up, he looked over his shoulder to his young son. His son was engrossed with a toy in his lap. It was a bright blue little metallic spaceship with the words Terran Express Spacelines painted along the fuselage. Jim had picked up the vintage toy while shopping in town. It was long ago when those antique ships only provided daily flights to a planet and its moon without the ability of inter-stellar travel. He knew that was how humans traveled from Earth to Luna and later to Mars in the Old Colonies. But that was ancient history with the progress made with starship design and engine development. All the same, it seemed like a novel toy to give to the kids to play with as they traveled home.

Slipping on his headphones instead of using the cabin speaker, he dialed in the control tower and asked for taxiing and clearance. Soon afterwards, he continued the preflight sequencing, getting the electrical systems online and disconnecting from external power. The air on Perseous was muggy, so Jim made alterations to prevent problems with starting up, since the contact points would be wet from the humidity.

Jim thought about the stories the three children told him earlier in the day when they were making their way to the port. They told him about trying new activities, making new friends, and wanting to come again to summer camp the following year, which would be ten months from then by Perseous’s calendar. Jim was pleased that his kids got this trip because it was a good way for them to interact with other children, considering that there weren’t many others to play with where they came from.

The ten-day camp was exactly what the kids needed. It took them away from the perceived monotony that all kids have of seeing the same people and the same trees and the same everything else every day. It provided them with stimulus, something new and unfamiliar. Now the children were excitedly discussing what they couldn’t wait to tell the other kids at home about, like the red wagon they got to play with, and new games they played, like the chicken dance.

Jim started the number two engine, followed by numbers three and one. The whine of the number four engine came on next. The familiar blue glow of the instrument panel illuminated the gauges, causing red needles and numbers to pivot to their correct positions. He finished the preflight sequencing, noting that everything was good to go, including his children and the load in the cargo bay. Once...