The Magellan Apocalypse: Map Runners Read online

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Back Matter

  Ebook & Print

  Reach the Author

  About the Author

  CHAPTER ONE

  9:42 am, June 4, 2392

  Fristion Nash, a fighter pilot, stood on the observation deck of Cargo Bay 37 looking out into space at the ships gathering to defend the Magellan.

  That morning at roll call he’d volunteered to fly a load of flash frozen beef from the cattle processing plant on the port side of the ship to Cargo Bay 37 on the starboard side. The Magellan had slowed as they passed by twin planets that were rich in water but uninhabitable by humans.

  Three years into a twenty-year journey to the new solar system and there hadn’t been so much as a hint of trouble. Now their first battle was to begin and the automatic lockdown that was protocol had Nash on the bench.

  It was bad enough he wasn’t out there with his buddies but something had happened to the communications and he had no idea what sort of threat they faced.

  Nash didn’t have to wait long. His tiny window on to a minuscule fraction of the battle kept him on his feet for almost a full day until there wasn’t anything more to watch.

  Ten years later Nash still hadn’t made it back to his squadron and Cargo Bay 37 remained on lockdown.

  ***

  Fristion Nash pounded on the door and refused to use the password. “It’s me. You know it’s me. Now open the damn door.”

  The guards gave in. “The commander wants to see you.”

  “Then why were you wasting my time?”

  They ignored him.

  Nash climbed the stairs to the commander’s office and knocked.

  “Enter.”

  “You wanted to see me, Frank.”

  “Did you get through?”

  “What’s your obsession with Cargo Bay 36?”

  “I’ve explained it to you, they have...”

  “They likely have nothing but an empty hole into space, and you know it.”

  “We have no idea what state they’re in, and they have just as good a chance at having survived as we did.”

  Nash went to the map table and fired up the hologram. “I followed the same route I’ve taken the last ten times you’ve sent me on this fool’s errand. It leads to what used to be Welder’s Town. No atmosphere or gravity, and all of the doors are locked down.”

  “Did you climb?”

  “Yes, I’ve scoured every inch of the ten stories, and there isn’t a way through. We’ve been at this for three years. Two kilometers up, one out, and about one and a half down, and nothing. I’ve been over most of it twice.”

  “The scavengers are always cutting holes through walls; it’s good to go back over the space.”

  “Yes, and usually there’s a pack of those filthy bastards camped out on the other side. We simply don’t have the air tank range, and there aren’t any functioning charging stations.”

  “What if we tried going farther up?”

  “Damn it, you’re not listening. The only way to go more than two kilometers up is through Tunnel 85, and there aren’t any junctions until you get to the platform for the Jade City route. There isn’t any reason to believe life support is working along the way, and I’d need to use 85 percent of my air tank to make it to the junction. It’s a one-way trip and you know it.”

  “We need to extend the range of the tanks.”

  “That’s engineering’s thing; I can’t help you there. There are hundreds, maybe thousands, of routes we’ve not mapped. We’re wasting our time trying for 36, but you’re the boss... Just keep giving me the command, and I’ll keep banging my head against the hull. I spent seven days, like always, and when I wasn’t hiding from scavengers, I was trying to find my way through, but I’m telling you, it just isn’t there to be found.”

  The commander stared at the hologram and said with a heavy voice, “Dismissed.”

  Nash gave a mocking salute and walked out. He went down to the map runners’ locker room and got out of his suit.

  Holly walked in and said, “How’d it go?”

  “What are you doing here? Don’t you have beer to schlep?”

  “I work here now. I’m your new co-pilot.”

  “The hell you are. I’ve never had a tracker, and I don’t need one now, especially not some kid.”

  “I’m not a kid, and the commander hired me especially for you.

  Nash slammed his locker door shut and went back to the commander’s office, but this time he didn’t knock. “What the hell, Frank?”

  “Excuse me?”

  Holly came in behind Nash.

  “I fly solo. I’m not going to have one of your damn trackers buzzing around in my ear while I’m getting shot at by scavengers or the Navereen.”

  “It’s not a suggestion.”

  Holly said, “I’ve been through the training and finished with a perfect score.”

  “She’s just a damn kid.”

  “I’m twenty-six.”

  Nash looked at her and said, “I thought you were sixteen.”

  “I was, ten years ago, when we got attacked.”

  “When am I scheduled to go out again?”

  “Four days,” said the commander.

  With disgust, Nash left. Had it really been ten years? He needed a long hot shower and an even longer drunk. Nash’s time off before the next run was shorter than normal, but it was still four days. He intended to make them as blurry as possible.

  ***

  Fiel Block, Frank’s twin sister and right hand, came out of the secret door behind his desk. “Why do you keep sending him on that wild goose chase?”

  “I don’t trust him, but I have my own reasons for wanting to get to 36 that don’t concern you. I care little about whether he thinks it’s a waste of time. Plus, I like knowing what he is up to.”

  Fiel was used to her brother’s idiosyncrasies and knew he would tell her his secret in his own time. “Yes, but he’s our best map runner, and who knows how much territory could have been covered if he had been...”

  “The wrist maps weren’t done and I couldn’t risk it, but now that they are, I’ll let him get to something new...for now at least.”

  She looked at the map and said, “There’s so much to cover.”

  “It’s slow, yes, but there aren’t many who can do the job without getting killed their first time out.”

  “PJ Garnett mapped a nice little section on the other side of the smelting rooms.”

  “Did he?”

  “He reported in while you were visiting your little friend.”

  “You have your share of little friends, sister dear, so I don’t want to hear it.”

  Fiel zoomed in on a section of the hologram and pointed to a wall and sa
id, “This wall he said was cut open, and it looked like there had been a small camp on the other side. He couldn’t tell what it used to be; his best guess was storage.”

  “Scavengers?”

  “He wasn’t sure, but he’s probably too new to tell the difference between them and a Navereen camp.”

  “You think it was active?”

  “If it was Navereen, then probably not, because they tend not to return once they’ve left, but the scavengers seem to like to have three or four spots and move between them.”

  “Do we have any judgments on the calendar?”

  “There was one this morning: an electrician who got drunk and started a fight.”

  “What did he get?”

  “They gave him a week.”

  “How far was it to the area PJ just mapped?”

  “Only two days.”

  “Good, set up his wrist map so that it steers him that way.”

  “Yes, commander.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Some would say Nash was the luckiest pilot to ever get behind a stick. Nash would say he was cursed.

  For the last ten years, he’d been replaying the day he volunteered to make the supply ship run to Cargo Bay 37. He loved being a fighter pilot, but as there wasn’t anyone to fight, he would take anything he could get, just to be out in space.

  Cattle Pen 16 was one of twenty; each one was a massive operation spanning four square kilometers. Eighty percent of the cattle raised had been used to feed colonists aboard the Magellan.

  The main diet was mostly fruits and vegetables, which were grown using hydroponics in small operations spread across the ship. Again, the rule had been that eighty percent was consumed on the journey.

  The planners had carefully calculated how long it would take to get farming operations up and running on the new planet, and the stores they put away on the journey would be vital to assure the survival of the colonists.

  The G-50x or “G-Box”, as it was called by the pilots, was an unimpressive ship, designed to transfer the cryo-frozen goods to the various cargo bays on the ship.

  Many of the pilots didn’t want to be bothered with the simple flying of these “storage runs,” but Nash just wanted to fly.

  He regretted his decisions for two reasons: getting trapped in Cargo Bay 37 when the attack came and a horrible sense of guilt from watching as the fight erupted and thousands, maybe all, of Magellan’s pilots were wiped out.

  The battle had raged for over seventy-two hours. Cargo Bay 37’s communications had gone dark two hours in, and ten years later they still didn’t fully understand what had happened.

  Two things became clear, though, after the commander sent out the first scouts: the ship was severely damaged and was now adrift in space.

  Holly sat down next to Nash at the bar.

  Nash said, “Don’t even start talking. I’ve only had one drink.”

  “You’ll be thankful I’m going to be your tracker.”

  Nash looked up at Calvin Canyon, the owner of Hal’s Last Stop, and said, “And there she goes.”

  “I know the maps and will stay on top of any new sightings. I’ll keep you safe.”

  “It’s as if she can’t hear me when I tell her to shut up and leave me be.”

  Calvin said, “Another shot?”

  “Yes, please, make it between the eyes.”

  “All the other map runners have trackers.”

  Calvin poured the shot of whisky, set the bottle down, and went back to cleaning glasses at the other end of the bar.

  “What’s so awful about having a teammate?”

  “Why do you talk so much?”

  “I’ve got a lot to say.”

  “And that’s why I don’t want you in my ear when I’m out there.”

  “But I’ll be helping you...”

  “You’ll likely get me killed.”

  “How? How could I possibly get you killed? I know where all the hot spots are. I’ll have every new report the minute it comes in, and that will keep you safe.”

  Nash looked at her, drank the shot, and said, “What do you know about the Navereen?”

  “They’re the ones who attacked us. Some of their soldiers—we don’t know how many—boarded the ship during the battle. After all of their ships were destroyed, the troops who had come aboard were stranded. Now, they roam the ship, still fighting and killing everything they can.”

  “What about their hearing?”

  Holly didn’t know what he meant. She stared at him blankly and said, “I don’t understand.”

  “They can hear the slightest noise. Their armor is nearly impossible to penetrate; so a runner’s only chance is to hide or flee.”

  “What’s your point?”

  “When I’m in the field and I tell you to shut the hell up, and you keep on blathering on like you know everything in the damn universe, it will be like a friggin’ flare going off. Did I mention how fast they are?”

  “I can be quiet.”

  “Prove it.”

  “How can I prove it? I’m just saying, I’ll be able to help you if you don’t spend so much time fighting me. You just need to give me a chance.”

  “Shut the hell up.”

  “You’re going to thank...”

  “That was a test. You failed...twice.”

  Holly said, “What test?”

  “Are you kidding me?”

  “No, I never know what you’re talking about.”

  “I just asked you to be quiet. You kept talking. Not one minute after me explaining how you could get me killed by ignoring my order to shut the hell up, you ignored my order...”

  “Oh. I see what you mean. Sorry.”

  Nash said, “Please, just give me a little peace.”

  Holly didn’t say another word and left.

  Calvin came back and poured another shot from the bottle he’d left behind. “She’s a good kid.”

  “You’ll be sure to mention that in my eulogy. We don’t want her all sad and mopey after she screws me over with her incessant babbling.”

  “Sure, I can do that. I’ll have to cut out the part about you being a no good bastard, though.”

  “Don’t do that; people will be disappointed.”

  Another bit of trouble eased in behind Nash. Tempest was a singer with long legs and dangerous curves who knew a thing or two about wrapping men around her little finger.

  Nash was not the sort to be wrapped. It drove her mad, but she kept trying. She said, “Buy a lady a drink?”

  Nash gave a nod to Calvin, who started making her a martini: three olives, dry.

  “How was it out there, baby?”

  “It was the same mess it always is, and it will be no different tomorrow.”

  “You’re going back out tomorrow?”

  “Well, in four days, but I plan on drinking enough that they all blur into one.”

  “Don’t drink too much. I’ve missed you.”

  Calvin set the drink in front of Tempest and wandered away. She was a great singer and brought in the customers, but he hated how she tried to “handle” Nash.

  CHAPTER THREE

  It was late, but Fiel seemed to never sleep. She didn’t drink. She did spend time in all three bars, but only because she liked to be among the people—keeping an eye on them.

  It had been three years since her brother the commander had made the unpopular declaration that the population was to be capped at 1,200. This meant that all pregnancies had to be approved. Anyone who got pregnant without getting a “pre-birth certificate” had two options: an abortion or a “volunteer” ninety-day deep mapping tour for the father.

  Nobody had ever come back from ninety days out in the twisted metal. There were too many ways to die, not the least of which was at the hands of the Navereen and scavengers.

  It had become a morbid sort of sport. Wives and girlfriends, hands on bellies, looking up at the board over the gate for the latest status updates of those on tour, praying that the names of th
e men they loved didn’t go red.

  Gambling on the map runners and those sent out for crimes or pregnancies was strictly forbidden. The sports book was the most lucrative business in Cargo Bay 37.

  Fiel had been trying to find the source of the betting almost since day one. It was her obsession, but every time she thought she had a lead, it never panned out. This time, however, she had discovered something even more important.

  She knocked on her brother’s office door. He slept on the couch most nights unless he was visiting his lady friend.

  “What is it?”

  “I need to talk to you. May I come in? It’s urgent.”

  “Yes, but why do your urgent updates always come in the middle of the night?

  “If sleep is more important than your command, then I will gladly wait until morning.”

  “Just get on with it.”

  “There have been rumblings about the population cap.”

  “That’s not middle-of-the-night worthy.”

  “People are starting to talk. They want change. They don’t believe the food supply can’t handle a little more growth.”

  “I’ve done the math down to the last tomato. There is little margin for error, and you know it.”

  “I’m not the one complaining...or talking rebellion.”

  Frank was up now. He got a bottle of water and went to the map table. “Who’s talking of rebellion?”

  “I overheard a couple behind me saying they had heard a rumor someone was going to challenge you for your command.”

  “Who?!”

  “I’d suspect whoever has been running the gambling. They’d have the most resources and the people to back them up.”

  “We live in a damn box. How is it you can’t find out who’s taking the bets?”

  “From day one, it has been the military vs. the workers, and the bookies are careful. It hasn’t been for lack of effort.”

  “I’d like to see someone else manage this mess. I wouldn’t give them two years. The ungrateful bastards...”

  “I think most people would support you, if it weren’t for the pregnancy laws.”

  “The only thing to do on this floating disaster is drink, and...well...if we didn’t put a stop to it, it would eventually cause food shortages. You think people want to rebel now? Wait until they can’t feed those little brats they keep popping out.”