This is another unfinished story, largely set in the same ‘verse as Bad Ideas All Around and Free Time on Mars. It was largely conceived as a joke, in which characters from a shallow, rather mean-spirited parody of a Cold War-era rocketpunk science fiction setting are transported into a more realistic modern one. Unfortunately, while Dash Manhunk’s meatheaded awfulness was a lot of fun to write I didn’t really have a plot beyond the initial setup so it fizzled out pretty quickly. Much like a lot of my stories, now that I think of it…
I
The doors opened with a soft hiss, and Dash Manhunk strode purposefully into the Research and Development Laboratory on Space Command’s Jupiter base. As he moved his tall, muscular frame through the cluttered labyrinth of computer banks, racks of glassware, and machines that seemed to serve no other purpose than to beep and print arcane readouts Dash felt his lantern jaw clench with barely controlled disdain. He had little patience for scientists, always immersed in their theories and measurements and experiments. He was a man of action, and couldn’t help but view anyone who would rather spend their lives in these laboratories, hunched over their chemicals and screens, twisting dials and fiddling with calculations, with distrust and contempt.
“Ah, Dash, my boy!” Doctor Ekelhaft Schwachkorb looked up from a bank of readout displays as Manhunk approached. “So good of you to come!”
“Let’s skip the pleasantries Doc,” Dash said dismissively. “I’m a busy man. What did you want to show me this time?”
“Ah, yes, yes, of course,” Schwachkorb said, and laughed that irritating little laugh of his. He ran a bony hand through the thatch of wiry gray hair that stuck out in all directions from his wrinkled head and turned gestured for Dash to follow him. “Of course, of course. This way, please.”
Dash sighed in exasperation and followed the little white-coated scientist deeper into the lab. “This better not be another waste of time, Doc,” he said gruffly. “The Space Command brass doesn’t take too kindly to you poindexters wasting their dime on your silly little experiments.”
Schwachkorb made an irritated little sound, but said nothing. Dash was glad; he didn’t have time to listen to another boring lecture. Not that he ever paid attention anyway.
“Ah, here we are!” Schwachkorb finally said, as they reached a wide open area with a pointed, tube-shaped capsule of some kind resting on three backswept fins. “My greatest achievement!” he gushed as he rushed over to it, gesturing wildly for Dash to look at it as though there were anything else nearby that he might mistakenly take for the object of the doctor’s excitement.
“A rocketship?” Dash said, eyeing the thing skeptically. “We already got rocketships, Doc. Are you tryin’ to pull a fast one on me here?” He rapped a knuckle on the shining silver hull.
“Ah, but this is not just any rocketship, my dear boy!” exclaimed Doctor Schwachkorb. “For you see, whereas other rockets fly through space, this rocket flies between spaces!”
Dash rolled his eyes. Oh great, more of this science mumbo jumbo. “You lost me, Doc,” he said.
“It’s all very simple,” Schwachkorb explained. “I trust you are familiar with the theory of parallel universes?”
Dash crossed his arms and leaned against the capsule. “Doc, I’m a busy man. I can’t be bothered to read up on every silly idea you eggheads come up with.”
“Well,” Schwachkorb persisted, “imagine if all of creation were like a book. And imagine then, that all of this, all around us,” he said as he gestured expansively, “our entire universe, was but a single page on that book. Are you following me?”
Dash just shrugged.
“Imagine then, that there are other pages in this book, and that on those pages, are other universes! Not just other planets, or stars, or galaxies, but entire universes! Can you imagine it?”
“I try not to imagine things,” Dash said. “It’s too distracting.”
“Yes, well.” Schwachkorb looked tired for a moment, but quickly returned to his usual energy. “Well, Dash my boy, if everything goes as planned, none of us will need to imagine it. For you see, the reason I called you here today…” He paused briefly, as though considering how best to phrase what he had to say next.
“Out with it, Doc!” Dash said, his annoyance cleverly disguised as lighthearted mock exasperation.
“Yes, yes!” Schwachkorb blurted with a wild flurry of hand gestures. “As I was saying, I would like you to serve as test pilot for my Trans-Universal Rocket!”
Dash raised an eyebrow and cocked his head. “Test pilot this thing, Doc? Into another universe?” He jerked a thumb as the device. “This thing may be plenty shiny, but I wouldn’t wanna make it my coffin.”
Schwachkorb waved his hand dismissively. “Oh nonsense Dash, I’m certain my calculations are sound. This test flight would only be a mere formality, a ceremony to convince Space Command that my research is still worthwhile. And besides,” he added, a twinkle in his eye, “in the event that you do experience any technical difficulties, my assistant will be there to fix them.”
“Assistant?” Dash gave the doctor a wary look. “No offense to your profession Doc, but climbing into this contraption with one of you eggheads doesn’t exactly sound like my idea of a way to spend an afternoon.”
“What’s this?” said an alluring voice behind Dash. “The great Dash Manhunk, calling me an egghead? I might cry.”
Dash turned to see a young woman approaching with a coquettish smile on her face. With every step that brought her closer to the men and the rocket her hips swayed from side to side underneath her long white lab coat. Dash quickly realized he was staring as the woman laughed and breezily adjusted a golden curl of hair out of her face.
“Dash Manhunk,” Doctor Schwachkorb said, “allow me to introduce my assistant, Mathilde Umfallen.”
Mathilde reached out a hand. “It’s a pleasure, Mr. Manhunk.”
“Please, call me Dash,” Dash said with his usual lopsided smirk.
“Very well Dash,” Mathilde said. “So, can we expect you to help us?”
Dash nodded. “Of course, Miss Umfallen,” he said. “Anything to advance the cause of science.” He was so fixated on Mathilde’s face that he didn’t see Schwachkorb rolling his eyes.
“Everything ready on your end, Doctor?” Mathilde said into the radio microphone.
“As ready as we’ll ever be, Mathilde!” Doctor Schwachkorb’s voice said, his voice small and tinny out of the small speaker grille set into the Trans-Universal Rocket’s control panel. “You’re cleared for liftoff. Good luck, Dash!”
“My luck is always good Doc,” Dash said as he pulled the lever to engage the rocket’s turbo-boosters and the silver finned dart lifted vertically from the launch pad. As the rocket rode its trail of flame into the sky, leaving behind the Space Command Jupiter base and the moon it was built on, Dash glanced back at his companions. “Well Plugg, how’s the ride so far?”
“Smooth as silk old buddy,” said Plugg Hardclench, running a hand over his seat’s bakelite armrest. As Dash Manhunk’s oldest and most trusted friend, Plugg had accompanied him on many adventures and had naturally been recruited for this mission as well. He glanced around the rocket’s interior and then at Mathilde seated to his left. “She’s a real beauty.” Mathilde tittered coyly at the double meaning of his response.
“One thing I’m wondering though,” Dash said with a glance towards the lady scientist, “if this contraption’s meant to travel to another universe, why are we flying off into space? Why can’t we just activate the bridging device on the launchpad?”
“Well,” Mathilde explained, “though our calculations and small-scale tests have given us a fairly good idea of what happens when we move small objects, we don’t really have any idea what sort of effect transporting an object the size of this rocket will have in our universe. It may create a burst of deadly radiation, or a ripple in space-time that could damage the pad or the entire base itself.”
“So you’re playing it safe and trying it out at a safe distance,” Plugg finished for her.
Mathilde nodded. “Precisely. Even now Doctor Schwachkorb should be observing us through his long-range scopes, ready to record the effects of our journey on this end.”
“You hear that Plugg?” Dash said with a laugh. “Better keep your hands to yourself!”
“Until we’re safely in another universe, at least!” Plugg answered back.
“I heard that!” Schwachkorb said over the radio, and they all laughed.
It was twenty minutes later when Mathilde looked away from her screen. “Okay Dash, we’re coming up on the test point.”
“Ready when you are,” Dash said, the glanced at the radio. “You ready, Doc?”
“All ready here, my boy!” Schwachkorb’s voice said over the radio.
“Alright everyone,” Dash said, as he reached up and took hold of the lever that would activate the rocket’s bridging device, “Here we go!”
He pulled down on the lever, and a soft hum rose slowly from behind them in the ship’s engine. The hum rose quickly to a steady whine, then a buzz, and then a bright light flashed outside the viewports and they felt a rippling vibration move through them. Then it was over. The light was gone, the vibration had stopped, and the hum was swiftly dying away.
Dash glanced back at Mathilde. “Did it work?” he asked.
“I’ll have to check my instruments,” she said and began to rise from her chair. She got a step towards the sensor readouts when she let out an astonished cry and was thrown to the back of the cabin, slamming hard against the bulkhead. Plugg, who had reflexively reached out to catch her, was pushed back into his seat with a pained grimace.
“What’s….going on…?” he grunted through clenched teeth.
Dash could barely answer. He was having enough trouble just breathing. “I think…the artificial gravity must have cut out…!” he finally managed. “I’ll have to…cut our thrust…” Grunting with exertion, he forced his body towards the control panel. Finally he was able to reach the proper lever, and pushed it forward inch by agonizing inch. After what felt like an eternity the engine’s thrust decreased and finally stopped altogether, leaving them to drift about the cabin in freefall.
“Plugg, you see to Mathilde,” Dash said. “I’ll try to find out what going on.”
“You got it buddy,” Plugg said and pushed off towards Mathilde, who was now floating limply at the back of the cabin.
“That’s odd,” Dash said, tapping at the dials set into the control panel. “It says here the artificial gravity generator is working just fine, so we should have gravity in here.”
“The little lady’s fine,” Plugg said. “Just a bump on the head. She’ll come around.”
“Let’s hope it’s soon,” Dash said. “We need her to figure out what in the blazes is going on here.”
“Can we still fly?” Plugg was pulling her back to her seat now.
Dash nodded. “We’ll have to take it slow, but we should be able to move at least. Get strapped in.”
When everyone was ready, Dash pulled back on the throttle lever. The force of acceleration was noticeable, but bearable. However, when he tried to maneuver he got another unpleasant surprise. “We can’t turn!” he exclaimed.
“What do you mean we can’t turn?” Plugg asked.
“I mean we can’t turn, the maneuvering system isn’t working either! That stupid old crank built a lemon!”
“Well, may as well kill the thrust then,” Plugg said. “No use wasting power if we can only go in a straight line.”
Dash sighed and pushed the throttle forward. “Right. Why, I’m gonna have a thing or two to say to Schwachkorb when we get back…”
II
“Captain Bova to the bridge.”
The request was met with a stir and an irritated groan.
“Captain, you’re needed on the bridge.”
The groan was louder this time, but the recipient still refused to budge.
“Captain!”
Finally Hudson Bova sat up, shook the fog of sleep out of his head, and reached over to tap the comm panel set into the wall. “Yeah, okay, what is it?” He blinked and looked at the clock display. “Shouldn’t you be asleep?”
“Judi woke me up,” said the voice on the other end. “She picked up something on her scopes.”
Bova sighed and swung his legs out over the edge of the bunk. “Alright, alright, I’ll be right there” he said, the last word lost in a yawn.
There was movement underneath the blanket next to him, and a bronze-skinned hand came to rest on his arm. “Something wrong?” Moira Blish mumbled groggily from the pillow, her dark almond eyes still half-lidded and bleary.
He patted her shoulder and stood. “I’m sure it’s nothing,” he said as he stood with a tired groan in his voice. Apparently reassured, she turned her back to him, pulled the blanket over her shoulder, and went back to sleep. By the bunk, Bova swayed briefly on his feet; he was well used to the coriolis effect caused by the Ataraxia’s rotating hab section, but it always threw him off for a moment when he stood up after a while off his feet. Once his inner ear had reacclimated and the dizziness had passed, he stooped to pick up his pants off the floor and began getting dressed.
Several minutes later he was entering the bridge with a steaming mug of coffee in his hand. As usual for this hour, the room was empty; Judi, the ship’s AI, was more than capable of keeping an eye on things while the crew slept and alerting them to any issues that might arise. Bova took an experimental sip from his coffee and decided it was still too hot as he stepped over to the central display. “Okay Judi,” he said to the room, “show me what you found.”
“Certainly, Captain,” came the leisurely response and the holoprojector flickered to life. A circular icon appeared moving along a glowing green track: Ataraxia on its flight path. Further down the line, a second object marked by a red X was moving on an intercept course along a shallow perpendicular trajectory.
“Any chance of a collision?” Bova asked, flicking his finger through the point where the flight paths intersected.
“If it holds its current course and speed?” Kyrie Webster’s voice spoke over the comm. “Not a chance, too slow. It’ll be pretty close, but it’ll definitely miss us.”
“How close is pretty close?” he asked.
“About…three-hundred K,” Kyrie said.
Bova nodded. That was pretty close, but not anything to worry about. “Any idea what it is?”
At her station situated at the ship’s stationary center, Kyrie shook her head. “I’ve already checked the traffic control database and it’s not following any registered flight plans, and we haven’t picked up any distress calls.” A moment later, because she knew what he was about to ask next, she added: “Judi and I have both tried to establish comm contact, but it’s not responding to hails.”
“So if it is off course, it’s either unmanned or anyone onboard is incapable of calling for help or responding to hails.” There was a moment of silence as he thought the situation over. “Any sign of a military presence?”
“Nothing I can see” Kyrie said, double-checking her scopes just to be sure. “If there were though, I’d think we’d have been warned away by now if they were doing anything secretive. Or more likely, our flight plan wouldn’t have been approved in the first place.” She paused, as though waiting for an order. When none came, she asked: “So what’s the plan?”
On the bridge Bova massaged between his eyes. He knew exactly what she meant. The Spacer’s Law, stating that one must never ignore a ship in distress. They were all spacers by occupation, but Kyrie was one by birth; born and raised aboard a prospecting ship out in the Hildians, she had a stronger astronaut pedigree than anyone else on the ship, and she would never condone ignoring what might be another ship in distress. As captain he could easily simply order her as he pleased whether she liked it or not, but he that had never been his style. Besides, he also lived by the Spacer’s Law, and if this was somebody in trouble he had no intention of simply breezing through without investigating.
Still, everything about this felt weird. In the vastness of interplanetary space, along the boundary between the Inners and Outers, the chances of another ship just randomly happening to cross their path were just too improbable. Even with all the traffic going on out here, that simply shouldn’t happen. And when something that shouldn’t happen did, he usually knew better than to chalk it up to mere chance.
He reached over to a control panel and pulled up a sensor display. There wasn’t anything else visible, and he knew hiding from a ship’s sensors was damned near impossible. He knew that most navies had stealth ships, but such technology was so closely guarded that the chances of any nefarious groups getting their hands on it was negligible at best, and even so those weren’t truly invisible anyway; though certainly harder to detect, they left telltale signals could still be picked up if one knew what to look for. It really did look like whatever this thing was, it was alone. He sighed. “It’s gonna screw up our timetable,” he said to no one in particular.
It took longer than he would have liked, but eventually everyone had gathered in the ship’s galley that also served as a briefing area and rec room. Most of them looked just as tired as he still felt, which wasn’t surprising; it was still the middle of the ship’s night cycle, after all. Once his XO had given him the thumbs-up that everyone was here, he waited a moment for the shifting and mumbling to die down on its own. When it didn’t, he cleared his throat loudly to get their attention.
“I’m sure you’re all wondering why I’ve dragged you out of bed at this hour,” he began once they’d quieted, prompting a disorganized wave of nods and murmur of affirmatives. He turned to glance at Kyrie to his right, who in turn glanced up at the ceiling. Following the unspoken command from her cyberbrain, the recessed holoprojector came to life with a barely perceptible whine and the intersecting trajectories flickered into existence. “About an hour ago, Judi picked up an unknown object following a perpendicular flightpath to ours. At its current speed there’s no danger of a collision, but it will pass within three-hundred thousand kilometers of us. It is not following a registered path, nor is it broadcasting or responding to hails.”
The crowd digested this for a moment before Aldiss, the ship’s executive officer, spoke up. “Do we have a visual on it?”
Bova turned to the right again. “Kyrie?”
She nodded, and the looping flightpath animation was replaced by a three-dimensional representation of the object. It resembled a dart more than any spaceship they’d seen, with a smooth cylindrical body that tapered to a sharp needlelike nose. Three gracefully curving fins projecting from the back were the only protuberances they could see.
“It looks like a throwing dart,” Huang said.
“Looks like some kinda pretentious art piece,” said Acerrano.
“Looks like the universe’s worst sex toy,” Paz said.
“Any idea where it came from?” someone asked.
“That’s where it gets weird,” Bova said, and glanced at Kyrie again.
Seeing her cue, she took a step forward. “I backtracked along its current trajectory, and unless it changed course at some point it doesn’t seem to lead anywhere within the Solar System.” Before anyone could speculate, she glanced at the projection and, with a thought, changed it. “And then there’s this.” The three-dimensional dart was replaced by a field of black, studded with pinpoint stars. “This is the region of space where Judi first picked up the object. Watch.” A brilliant white light flashed in the darkness, sending out a halo that faded as rapidly as it expanded. When the flash had subsided, occupying the formerly empty area of space was a fuzzy oblong shape: the dart, as seen from hundreds of thousands of kilometers away and illuminated only by the dim light of the distant sun.
“The fuck is that?” Sullivan asked.
“Did that thing just appear?” someone else wanted to know.
Kyrie just shrugged and looked to the captain.
“Right now we don’t have any idea what this means,” he said. “We’ve gone over the readings though, and it seems to be legit. Right now our best guesses are some sort of experimental active stealth system or,” and he hesitated slightly, “some possible form of FTL travel. But keep in mind, those are guesses.”
“It’s aliens,” Paz said to Sullivan. As usual, they were standing next to each other.
“Anyway,” Bova said, “we’re the closest ship in the area so we’re going to check it out. Be prepared for the possibility of entertaining guests.”
“Excuse me sir,” Paz said, “but what if it isn’t human?”
“Then we let the Navy deal with it,” Bova said. “Don’t worry, I watch movies too.”
III
“All set for deceleration burn,” Kyrie announced. By flipping the Ataraxia end over end and pointing her engines along their flight path, the plan was to slow their progress enough to where they would be able to match courses with the unknown object and get a closer look. If it looked like there might be anyone aboard, Kyrie could then send a rescue party over on the Bolero.
“Roger that,” Bova said from the bridge. She didn’t have a holo feed running to the other parts of the ship, but Kyrie could imagine everyone strapped into their acceleration couches, waiting. Though the centripetal force generated by the hab section’s rotation would counteract some of the G-forces incurred by the deceleration, they would still feel it. “We are go for burn on your mark.”
Kyrie wrapped her hand around one of her chair’s control sticks, turned it sideways, and keyed it to the throttle. “Commencing burn in five, four, three, two…” As she counted down, the cushions in her chair filled with impact gel, anticipating the crushing effect that the burn would have on her. Here in the ship’s stationary control pod, Kyrie would have to bear the full brunt of the ship’s deceleration. “Commencing burn.”
She twisted the throttle control, and the Ataraxia’s big engines roared silently to life, announcing the ship’s approach with blinding jets of incandescent plasma longer than the ship itself. Kyrie felt herself pushed back into her chair’s warm embrace, and grinned; for someone like her, born and raised on a spaceship, there were few things more exhilarating than a good hard burn.
* * * * *
“Any luck up there?” Plugg Hardclench asked from where he floated in the back of the cabin.
“Nothing,” said Mathilde Umfallen, with her golden curls forming a halo around her head in the zero gravity. “The radio works, but there’s no response.”
“Do you suppose anybody even lives here?” asked Dash Manhunk. He floated beside her, somehow still managing to look masculine despite the undignified lack of gravity.
“If they don’t, we’re in trouble,” Mathilde said matter-of-factly.
Dash smirked at her condescendingly. “Of course, we may be in trouble if they do,” he said. “I don’t know if any of you eggheads were paying attention during the Neptune War, but I was.”
Mathilde sniffed haughtily and was prepared to say something, but Dash was spared her rebuttal by a shout from Plugg. “Hey Dash old buddy,” he said, pointing out one of the aft viewports. “Does that answer your question?”
Dash and Mathilde floated back to join him at the viewport, and looked. They weren’t sure what they were supposed to be looking at, until they realized that one of the myriad stars outside was moving. As they watched the point of light grew brighter and brighter, and they realized that whatever it was, it was coming closer. The light grew and grew, until it eventually resolved into a column of blinding flame. Just as Dash was beginning to think his eyes couldn’t take much more punishment the flame died back until it finally disappeared altogether, revealing what looked like a dish of scorched gray metal.
“Well, I’ll be!” Plugg said. “It’s a flying saucer!”
“Sure is a little thing,” Dash said. “Can’t be any bigger that a dinner plate.”
“I think it’s just far away,” Mathilde said. “Wait,” she said then, as the thing began to move. It was rotating, turning end over end, and they could now see that behind the dish was a cluster of engines and bulbous orbs, and then a thin shaft-like body that extended towards a cluster of large box-shaped containers and a rotating donut-shaped section protected within a stationary cage, the front of which was dotted with what looked like tiny radar dishes and antennae.
“What on Earth is that?” Dash said. It didn’t look like any spaceship he’d ever seen; then again, if Schwachkorb’s machine had worked he supposed that only made sense.
“Sure is an ugly thing,” Plugg said.
Mathilde, however, was fascinated. “Incredible!” she said. “Look how it maneuvers, by using those small jets placed along the length of its body. Why, that must explain why you were unable to maneuver once we crossed over, and why our artificial gravity doesn’t work here.”
Dash fought the urge to roll his eyes. “I’m afraid you’ll have to explain it to me, Miss Umfallen,” he said. “What does that mean?”
She looked away from the strange vessel and grinned at him. “It means that this universe we’re in must operate on a different set of physical laws than our own!” she said. “I’m sure of it!”
“A different set of whatnow?” Dash asked. “Doesn’t that seem a bit far-fetched to you?”
“We’re in another universe, Major Manhunk,” Mathilde said. “I’d say we’re already into far-fetched territory, wouldn’t you agree?”
“I hate to interrupt your honeymoon,” Plugg said, “but have we thought about trying the radio again?”
“Good thinking, buddy,” Dash said, and pushed off towards the control console. Taking hold of the radio microphone to steady himself, he set it to broadcast over the widest possible range and said “Unidentified vessel, do you read me? This is Major Dash Manhunk of United States Space Command, and I come in peace. Our ship seems to have encountered a problem and could use some assistance. Over.” After he finished the transmission, he turned to his companions. “Now we just hope they’re friendly,” he said.
Several moments passed, and then the speaker crackled. “Uh, this is Captain Hudson Bova of the commercial shipping vessel Ataraxia. I understand you’re in need of assistance.” Not only was the man speaking English, but he sounded a little confused.
They all exchanged puzzled looks before Dash responded. “Yes Ataraxia, we seem to be having problems with our maneuvering system and artificial gravity generator.”
There was an extended silence, before Bova finally spoke again. “Well…I’m not sure we have anyone certified to work on an artificial gravity generator, but we can give you a lift to the nearest spaceport.”
Dash didn’t like the sound of that, but he supposed he had to take it. “We’d appreciate that, thank you.”
Bova responded immediately this time. “Alright, we’ll send our shuttle over to pick you up and tow your ship in. See you soon, Bova out.”
* * * * *
“Who still communicates over the EM spectrum?” Kyrie asked over the ship’s neural comm net.
“United States Space Command, apparently,” Bova thought. “Whatever the hell that is.”
“Boss, what are you sending us into?” Aldiss asked.
“Should I bring something heavy?” Paz offered.
“We’re bringing your face, what more do we need?” asked Sullivan.
“I will beat you to death with the new guy,” she threatened.
“Alright, cut the chatter you two,” Aldiss broke in.
On the bridge, Bova sighed. There were times he wished those two weren’t among the most skilled engineers on the ship. It seemed like every time they got together they immediately derailed all conversation into a volleying exchange of insults and threats. “I want you two on your best behavior out there,” he said. “That’s an order, understand?”
“Understood,” Sullivan answered.
“Yes Dad,” said Paz.
“Rescue team ready to depart,” came Aldiss’s voice into his head over the net.
“Roger that,” Bova thought. “Kyrie, take them out.”
A slight jolt ran through the ship as the Bolero, their atmospheric shuttle, disengaged from its docking ring aft of the habitation and cargo sections. On his screen he watched the smaller craft accelerate away towards the strange vessel under Kyrie’s remote guidance. She’d wanted to fly it out by hand, but he wasn’t about to let one of his most important crewmembers run off to say hello to a complete stranger, especially one spouting such nonsense as this Dash Manhunk.
What kind of ridiculous name was that, anyway?
“ETA?” he asked her, though he could just as easily look himself. After all, one of the perks of being captain was not having to read his own screens.
“Three minutes,” Kyrie answered.
* * * * *
“Here they come,” Plugg said, and Dash and Mathilde went to the viewports to watch. A smaller craft had detached from the strange ship and was indeed approaching. It looked like a fat-bodied airplane, with wide wings, a T-tail, and massive engines. As they watched it grew and grew, until it was threatening to dwarf their own rocketship. As it drew close it flipped end over end and flared its engines in their direction to decelerate before turning, and then it was coming in so close Dash wondered if it was going to hit them. Then it stopped, and they heard something outside latching onto their hull.
There were more noises outside, a series of loud clanks and clangs, then a loud hissing sound, and then silence.
Then, someone was knocking on the ship’s hatch. They looked at it uncertainly, before Plugg shrugged and “Well, may as well get it over with,” and steadied his feet against the floor to turn the wheel and swing the hatch open. The shuttle had attached an airtight docking umbilical passage to their rocketship, and floating within were three men and two women.
“Well, I’ll be!” Plugg said. “You’re human!”
Their five rescuers looked between each other uncertainly before the lead man spoke. “That’s right,” he said, as though he were stating the obvious. He was tall and lean, with black hair and sideburns that reached nearly to his jaw. Dash was sure he could take him if things went sour. His companions didn’t look like much of a threat either; only one of the men was anywhere near his size, and the women were…well, they were women.
“You’re Major…Manhunk?” the man asked, and Plugg shook his head.
“I’m Manhunk,” Dash said. “You don’t sound like the Captain Bova I spoke to.”
“Name’s Aldiss,” the lean man said. “I’m the Ataraxia’s XO.” Dash noticed two of Aldiss’s people, the smaller man and a short dreadlocked woman with a bunch of metal in her face, leaning past him to look around the rocketship’s cabin.
“Pleasure to meet you” Dash said, though he didn’t entirely mean it. With his beatnik hair and flat-topped cap this Aldiss looked some kind of lilly-livered commie, and he didn’t particularly like the look of his people, either. That short woman in particular looked like some sort of mouthy bra-burning women’s-libber, and Dash preferred his women knew their place. Still, he supposed he had to play nice, at least until they were out of this pickle.
He introduced his companions. “This is Plugg Hardclench,” he said, and Plugg smiled and nodded. He winked at Dreadlocks, and rolled her eyes. Dash saw that but pretended he hadn’t, instead turning to bring Mathilde forward with a hand in the small of her back. “And this is Mathilde Umfallen,” he said.
“How do you do,” Mathilde said, with a proper little wave of her hand.
Aldiss waved back, then jerked a thumb back down the umbilical. “I’d like to do our introductions on the Bolero, if you don’t mind,” he said. “We’ve got a cargo that needs to get to Helium, so I’d like to get going.”
As the Bolero headed back to the Ataraxia with its new passengers strapped in and the strange little vessel held securely by the ventral docking clamps, Danny Sullivan received a message from Paz over their shared private neural channel. Though as usual she was sitting right next to him, they were not alone in the Bolero’s passenger compartment and apparently she wanted whatever it was she had to say kept between them. Which, knowing her, probably meant she had something to say about their new guests.
“Did you see that slimeball wink at me?” she asked. Danny’s cyberbrain rendered the message as a perfect, albeit slightly hollow, simulation of her voice in his ears, right down to her disgusted tone.
He glanced at her. She looked as annoyed as she sounded in his head. “I saw,” he thought back to her. “Did you see the way that woman tensed up when that guy put his hand on her back?”
Paz nodded, and turned in her acceleration couch to look back at where their passengers were talking with Aldiss. “Both of those guys give me the heebies,” she thought.
“The sooner we make them someone else’s problem the better, that’s for damn sure.”
“How much you wanna bet I end up kicking one of them in the balls before that happens?”
“If I agree to that, you may as well just pay up now,” Danny thought.
Tyrant King Press