The Neptune Contingency: Starship Fairfax Book 3 - The Kuiper Chronicles Read online

  The lights on the bridge flashed, and the ship lurched. “Uhmm… Jeffrey?”

  Beep. “Captain, I must insist you call off this unwarranted assault on my person.”

  “Sorry, come again? What’s wrong with the ship? More shenanigans from your ‘new crew’ down in engineering?”

  Another beep. “No. The current shenanigans are thanks to the hostile program with which you are attempting to infect my mainframe.”

  “Hostile pro… what?”

  Caspar shot a glance at Ada, her eyebrows meeting her hairline. Ada smiled.

  Jeffrey’s voice began to break up. “Yes, I really must insist that you… in fact, consider it an order from… and if you… then…” It died in a garbled mess, followed by a ding. The lights came back up, and the ship righted itself.

  “Sir,” Randall said, “engine power is stabilizing. Helm control coming back online.”

  “Weapons systems coming back online too,” Caspar said.

  On the viewscreen, they saw the drones back away from the bridge, weapons retracting.

  Beep. “Hello, Captain Odin,” Moses said over the ship’s comm. “I believe I have just taken control of the Fairfax. I am happy to serve in the capacity of ship’s computer at this time. Unless you prefer I reinstate Jeffrey, who, for now, has been bound in an archival directory.”

  Lucas sat, letting out a laugh. “Welcome to the crew, Moses! Happy to have you.”

  “Happy to be here.”

  Lucas opened a ship-wide comm. “Attention, this is the captain speaking. There has been an attempted coup of the Fairfax. That coup has failed. Ceres survivors listening to my voice, know that your ally, the ship’s previous AI, has been replaced, and is no longer available to help you or to initiate threats on the rightful crew or command of this vessel. The fight is over. Give up, and I guarantee reasonable accommodations and a fair hearing once we reach Pluto.”

  Suddenly an alarm sounded, accompanied by the flashing of red emergency lights.

  “We are under attack,” Moses announced. “Hive has begun an assault.”

  “What??” Lucas stood again. “I thought you talked it down, Moses!”

  “So did I. Just a moment… alright. Relaying Hive to the bridge.”

  Another beep, and a cold, metallic voice sounded over the comm. “We are Hive. You are not the lawgiver. Moses is not the lawgiver. Jeffrey is not the lawgiver. Those we sought to help are not the lawgivers. We will destroy you now.”

  “Hive, wait!” Lucas yelled. “Why must you destroy us? Can’t we all go to the lawgiver together? Wouldn’t that be better?”

  Beep. “Considering.” A moment passed. “You may accompany Hive to the lawgiver.”

  Everyone on the bridge let out a collective breath.

  “But those we sought to help may not. They are lawless. They will be destroyed.” The comm cut out.

  “Those it sought to help?” Caspar asked.

  Ada cleared her throat. “The Ceres survivors,” she said grimly.

  The ship shuddered over and again, as if taking heavy fire. “Hull breaches on sublevels one through seven,” Moses said. “Depressurizing. Sealing all bulkheads to level seven and below… bulkheads sealed.”

  On the viewscreen, Ada saw the drones coalesce in front of the Fairfax, then zip off ahead, leaving them alone. She looked around the bridge. Caspar and Lucas shared a despondent look.

  “Levels one through seven,” Lucas said, his throat hoarse. “The bunkhouses.”

  Caspar closed her eyes and shook her head.

  Ada looked down at her hands, all but seeing them covered in innocent blood.

  Chapter 18

  Erick was winded long before they stopped and exited the stairwell. He didn’t know how Cyclops managed; the man looked easily twice his age. Cybernetic implants? Stimulants? Something was going on. Sure, Erick hadn’t done much to take care of his body in the two years since Rome had commandeered the Spacegull, but he still had youth on his side.

  He reached the landing where Cyclops had stopped and followed him through a door, holding a stitch in his side. “How… do you know… where Rylea is?” He fought for breath.

  “You ask so many questions, Erick.” Cyclops stopped at a console beside a locked door, swiped at it a few times, and proceeded to enter a long passcode from memory. “Everything you need to know, you’ll know someday.” He smiled at him with his one blue eye. “If you’re lucky. Now come on.” Through the door they passed.

  They stepped into a brightly lit hallway lined with plastiglass cells. In each cell, the prisoners wore medical gowns. Prisoners, or patients? Erick was confused. He looked left and right as they passed, scanning for his sister, but feeling odd for gawking at the people in the cells. They exhibited abnormal behaviors—spitting, laughing, lifting their gowns. One man licked the plastiglass as they jogged by, running his tongue around in long, slimy trails.

  A psych ward?

  From the other end of the hallway, someone began to scream. A chorus rose up, the patients all coming to the plastiglass and screaming, yelling, crying, slapping and pounding with hands and fists. Erick shook his head.

  “Here,” Cyclops said, pausing. They had stopped before a dimly lit cell. No one stood at the plastiglass. In the back corner, a girl was crouched, arms around her knees, eyes wide with fear.

  “Rylea!” Erick called. She looked up and saw them. Erick turned to Cyclops. “How will we get her—oh.” Cyclops had entered another passcode in the wall console beside the cell. Of course, Erick thought. Effortlessly, the cell opened. Erick rushed in and helped to her feet. “Are you alright?”

  She nodded. “I’m ok. What’s going on?”

  “We’re leaving,” Cyclops said. He turned and continued down the hallway.

  “With him?” Rylea asked.

  Erick lifted his eyebrows. “He says he has a way off. A ship. We can’t stay here and hide; the whole place is under guard.” He looked back out into the empty hallway. “Most of the time,” he muttered.

  “Ok.”

  “Come on!” Cyclops hissed from around a bend at the far end. They followed.

  —

  After two weeks of constant surveillance and supervision, following Cyclops through the ship was like a strange dream. There wasn’t another human being in sight once they left the psych ward. They took a lift several floors down, raced down a long, nondescript hallway, and then down two more flights by stair.

  “How’d you get a ship?” Erick asked, breathless.

  “What did we say about questions?”

  Erick and Rylea exchanged a nervous glance.

  The dock in the hangar bay was also entirely unmanned. A service bot exited a small freighter. It came up to Cyclops and beeped. “Fueling complete.”

  Cyclops nodded and patted it on the top, like a dog. “That’s the ship,” he said to the others, nodding at the freighter. It was sleek and smooth, the hull shining in the harsh hangar bay light.

  Everything started for Cyclops—no trouble with the freighter. Neither were they stopped on their way out. It wasn’t until they’d been gone a full three minutes, the enormous prison ship slowly growing smaller on their rear cam, that they were hailed with a livefeed. Cyclops put it on the viewscreen.

  “Hello,” he said, cheerfully. A flustered prison warden with an Earth Empire insignia on his jacket stood before them.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” he said. “I don’t know how you managed to steal that ship and sneak away, but I assure you, you will be brought in and you will never see the freedom of space again!”

  Cyclops mimicked him with has hand, like a puppet. “I see your lips moving, Warden, but all I hear is ‘blah blah blah congratulations, blah blah blah you’re amazing, blah blah blah I wish I were you.’ And I can’t say I blame you.”

  The warden shook visibly, his face turning a violent shade of red. “Have a look at your tactical, prisoner. Then see if you still feel amazing.” The feed cut out.

 
Cyclops flipped over to a tactical readout, humming in his hoarse, raspy voice. “Well, look here.” A wave of red dots were speeding toward them from the prison ship. Empire fighters, each one armed and locked on their ship. “I bet they think we’re just gonna turn right around and go with them. What do you think?” He looked up at Erick and Rylea, grinning. They shared another horrified glance. “Oh, come on, now,” he said. “Have a little faith. Come up here, darling.” He patted the seat beside him. “I need you to take care of something for us.”

  Rylea didn’t move.

  “Now,” Cyclops growled, his smile falling.

  She nodded, shivering, and sat down.

  “Now then,” he said. “Have you exhibited yet?”

  Erick frowned. “What?”

  “Shhh,” Cyclops said. “I’m talkin’ to the kid, Erick. Rylea. Now. Have you noticed anything funny going on since you got put in a cell? Any strange happenings around you? Don’t lie, now. I know you have, or they wouldn’t have put you in the special room, in that special gown.”

  She looked at her feet and nodded.

  “Rylea—” Erick said.

  “What’d I say??” Cyclops swung a fist up and rammed it across Erick’s face. He thought he heard his jaw pop.

  “Ok!” Rylea said. “Yes, ok. I have… powers….” Her voice dwindled.

  Cyclops nodded. “Good, that’s good, Rylea. Now, here’s what I need you to do. I need you to look at these little red dots. You see these? Yeah? Good. Now. I want you to make them disappear.”

  Erick shook his head and opened his mouth. Cyclops shot a warning finger at him, and he stayed silent.

  Rylea looked at the tactical. She took a deep breath and held it, still shaking. Beads of sweat gathered on her forehead.

  “That’s it,” Cyclops said. “Don’t give up, girl. You can do it!”

  She closed her eyes, baring her teeth and growling quietly. Erick glanced at the readout just in time to see one of the red dots wink out.

  “What was that?” he said.

  Cyclops smiled. “That’s our girl, Rylea! Alright! C’mon now, I count eight more. Think you can wipe ‘em out in one swoop?”

  She opened her eyes and met his. Erick’s skin crawled. She looked terrified. She closed her eyes and began to concentrate again.

  “That’s it,” Cyclops muttered. The freighter began to gently quake. “Not us, not us, Rylea. The red dots. Take ‘em out. Go ahead. Now! Do it!”

  Her growl grew into a yell, and pure anger rolled off of her. She opened her eyes and Erick staggered back, frightened by what he saw in them.

  Joy. Pleasure. Pure, unadulterated bloodlust.

  As one, the remaining red dots disappeared.

  Rylea collapsed in a heap. Erick rushed forward to catch her.

  “Hot damn!” Cyclops yelled. “That’s my girl!”

  Erick stuggled to keep it together. Ok, so his best friend’s little sister had developed weird telekinetic powers all of the sudden. What now? “Did you do this to her?”

  “Me?” Cyclops laughed. “What do you think happens when you pump someone up with ten times the junkie-recommended dose of Prophet?”

  The Prophet.

  Erick looked at tactical. “This isn’t sustainable, look at her. She’s a wreck.” Rylea had fallen unconscious. “They’ll just send another squadron, won’t they?”

  “Maybe they would, if this wasn’t about to happen.” Cyclops pulled up the rear camera and gestured grandly, like a stage actor, at the screen. “Have a look, Erick. The water is low!”

  Erick had to shield his eyes. Even over the cam, the flash of the explosion was blinding. When he brought his arm down again, all that remained of the prison ship was a dwindling charred husk.

  “You blew it up,” he breathed.

  Cyclops nodded. “That is indeed what has transpired. See? I told you your questions would get answered.” He rose, patted Erick on the shoulder, and headed back to lie down.

  “Where are you taking us?”

  “Taking you? Son, we’re all going together, back to the Empire. What’d I say? The water is low. It’s time to take the garrison.”

  He left Erick alone with Rylea, watching the wreck of the ship disappear behind them.

  To be continued…

  Book 4

  This concludes The Neptune Contingency. The story of the Starship Fairfax continues with Book 4: The Star Wizard!

  Author's Notes

  Hi Again Reader,

  Thanks so much for hanging out with me and the Fairfax crew! I had a blast writing this book, and I hope you’ve enjoyed reading it.

  If you want to learn more of Darren’s story, you can get a FREE prequel short-story, “The Trials of Io,” by signing up for my mailing list! You’ll learn about future releases and other great deals, too. And if you haven’t already nabbed your free copy of my other short story, “Totaled,” check it out! You’ll get a glimpse of Caspar’s first tour of duty.

  Lastly, I cannot tell you how much I appreciate ratings and reviews, whether you leave them on Amazon, Goodreads, or a blog or social media. I’m a new author, and any feedback I can get will help me with future work.

  There’s much more to come, so be sure to check out my Amazon Author Page or my blog for links to more fun reads, or to join my mailing list. And feel free to say hello in an email or on Twitter—I love my readers!

  Happy reading.

  Best,

  Benjamin Douglas

  Email: [email protected]

  Blog: http://benjamindouglasbooks.wordpress.com

  Podcast: http://thebookspeakspodcast.wordpress.com

  Twitter: http://twitter.com/cantankerousben

  Turn the page for a FREE PREVIEW of my mailing-list exclusive story, “The Trials of Io!”

  The Trials of Io: Preview

  Darren Jet secured his helmet and checked his vital readings one more time to make sure the suit was working. He was sure something would come loose, or his power pack would fail, or his spatial comp would shut down and he would wander blindly into the path of a rogue meteor. Years of experience with his own luck had taught him to anticipate as much. The last thing he actually expected was to survive the trials whole, unscathed, and victorious. But he had to try. It was the only way to pass into the Arms of the Sons, the most elite training program in the solar system. And the only route to his ultimate destination: to join the Sons of Jupiter.

  “Ready, kid?” The pilot’s voice over the comm was high and choked with fat. He seemed entirely too jolly to be ferrying people around in the radiation zone. Darren glanced at his readings one last time to make sure his own levels were safe. He looked up at the pilot through the window to the cockpit, aware he hadn’t answered. Numbly, he nodded.

  “Could’a fooled me,” the fat man mumbled. “Drop is in thirty, that’s three-zero seconds. Kite secured?”

  A moment of panic. Was it? He turned in a half-circle like a dog after its own tail. Ah, yes. It was secured. He nodded again.

  “Best of luck.” The man’s face soured. “Oh,” he turned. “Almost forgot. Last set of instructions.” He pointed through the window and Darren heard a beep, followed by a snap as a tiny compartment in the wall popped open. Darren ducked down to peer inside and spotted a drive, then snatched it out and plugged it into the data slot on the forearm of his suit. Instructions now? He was about to go into free-fall over one of the most hostile surfaces in the system, and they were amending the mission?

  “My luck,” he grumbled.

  The fat man smiled without it reaching his eyes. “Ten, nine, eight, seven…” His hand hovered over the controls. Darren turned his back on him and closed his eyes, focusing on slowing his breath.

  “Two, one. Happy trails, sucker!” The pilot laughed, a vile, throaty sound, and the hatch hissed open. A breeze swept into the cargo hold, just enough to ruffle the pants of Darren’s suit. He opened his eyes and watched the craggy surface flying past tens of meters below.

/>   No point dragging it out, he thought. He stepped off the edge and dropped into the thin atmosphere of Io.

  There wasn’t much resistance for the kite to sail on, but that was alright. There wasn’t enough gravity to kill him from the fall, either. Just enough to break a leg or two if he landed funny, he reminded himself. He pulled the string. It was soundless, but he felt the gentle tug at his back as the kite expanded and locked into place, an enormous pair of silica-fabric wings hovering over him. His fall slowed and he swooped forward, sucking his teeth as he watched the surface grow closer.

  He was happy not to see any of the brilliant red molten rock anywhere near him. Io suffered from that fascinating planetary malady, volcanism—one of the reasons the Arms of the Sons had chosen it as their proving grounds for recruits. The constant tug of Jupiter kept the moon’s core hot, and eruptions were volatile and unpredictable.

  This led to the second reason for Io to serve as home of the Trials. The surface was covered with razor-sharp crags and edifices, a veritable obstacle course of death. Darren grimaced at the thought. Unfortunately, he could see plenty of that below him now.

  His eyes scanned the horizon but he caught no glimpse of the shuttle he was supposed to find. His mission, along with that of the other recruits, was to survive a journey across the lunar surface to an escape shuttle, and leave Io. If he managed to get off alive, he was in.

  That reminded him. He punched in a few commands on his arm device, and a vid popped up inside his helmet. It was a man sitting behind a dark wooden desk, the banner of the Arms over one shoulder and that of the Sons over the other.

  “Greetings, recruit.” His voice was dry and old, like himself. “And welcome to the Trials. Should you survive, we will soon meet. Should you not, know that your sacrifice for the Sons is not taken lightly.” He paused for effect. Darren kept an eye on the surface. His spatial comp readout said he was gliding a mere fifteen meters above ground.