Shadows of the Void Books 1 - 10

Generation-3

CARL LINGIARI WISHED for a storm. A super cell or a tornado, like the ones that swept the western New South Wales plains of his boyhood. Storms he’d grown up learning to dodge while crop dusting the family farm. Oh sure, he’d encountered a few. At the last planet but one—he never could remember those strings of Kepler numbers—the place he’d mentally dubbed Arse End of Hell, there’d been a beauty of a buster to dodge. He grinned as he remembered the RA team’s cheer when they made it back to the ship. Though the passenger cabin still smelled faintly of vomit, that had been the kind of ride that made piloting worthwhile.

Not this ferry tripping. He took his feet down from his console and scanned the instrument panel. Descent was going smoothly. All readings were normal. They were nearly there. He thumbed the mic on his headset. “Touchdown in five.” The ‛five’ was drawn out as he fought to stifle a yawn. He thumbed his mic off and put up his feet again. The shuttle could just about fly itself. It did fly itself most of the time. He was like a parent holding a toddler’s reins: only there to stop the kid from doing something stupid.

One day, Carl would pilot a starship. A starship like the Galathea. Massive starjump engines below, Raptor Xs to the rear, control and living quarters long, sleek, and neat along the top. A handful of pulse cannons on the off chance they encountered a hostile space-faring life form. It hadn’t happened in the history human space travel, but you never knew. That was the kind of bird he’d fly.

Carl wouldn’t be copilot, understudy, backup-in-case-of-disaster anymore. He wouldn’t be stuck doing the school run in a rustbucket while someone else got to commute in the latest model. He stretched his arms wide, put his hands behind his head, and closed his eyes.

In his imagination, he was sitting at the control panel of the Galathea. His Polestar Corp uniform was clean, crease-free, and neatly buttoned to the neck. His pilot’s hat was on his head, set at just enough of an angle to make him look sneck. Wearing your hat while aboard ship wasn’t strictly required according to regulations, but he had the corporation’s image to consider.

Yeah, he would fly that bird through space with style.

A tall, shapely female figure appeared in his daydream. She moved to his side in the pilot’s seat on the Galathea’s bridge. Who was this? Could it be C.S.O. Harrington, in her tight-fitting combat suit? And what was she doing? She leaned down to whisper in his ear. She had to tell him something important and personal, something that couldn’t wait. As she leaned toward him, her breasts came so close to his face he could feel their warmth—

“Landing gear lowered.” The shuttle’s announcement sounded in the cabin, loud and formal. Krat. Drawn roughly back to reality, Carl’s feet landed on the floor with a thump. He checked the instruments again. No problems. Through the plexiglass window, he saw the planet’s surface rising rapidly. To one side, about five K from the landing site, was one of those hexagonal structures. The rest of the view was mostly ocean. The RA was to take place at a shoreline.

The sun was coming up, and the RA team would have about five and a half hours before it set. The day promised to be uneventful for Carl, who would wait for the team to take their samples before he had to shuttle them back to the Galathea. He wasn’t allowed to leave the immediate vicinity of the shuttle in case there was an emergency and they had to make a quick getaway, but that wasn’t so bad on this planet. He didn’t think he’d ever been anywhere so boring. The shuttle touched down and rolled across the stony beach to a stop.

“Prepare to disembark,” Carl said into his mic before pressing the switch to open the airlock. He removed his headset, undid his harness, got up, and pulled on a jacket. They were on a warmer landmass compared to some on the planet, but the temperature remained chilly. By the time he opened the cabin door, the RA team had left, and the passenger cabin was empty but for First Mate Haggardy, who was supervisor this trip. The team was sticking to the master’s orders to get a move on and gather their samples and data. Carl went between the rows of seats and out the airlock. He jumped off the ramp, landing roughly on loose pebbles. He staggered.

As he straightened up, he saw that one of the RA team was lingering by the shoreline, her back to the others, who were retrieving their equipment from the hold and setting out to get their samples. Her shoulders were shaking.

Carl went over and stood behind the woman, unsure what to do. He glanced back, but no one else seemed to have noticed her. Gently, he laid a hand on her shoulder. The woman jumped a little and turned to him, hastily wiping her eyes.

“You okay?” Carl asked.

“Yeah,” the woman replied. She looked at her feet. “It’s just...it isn’t how I imagined it would be. Space travel, I mean. I thought it would be exciting, adventurous, you know? But instead it’s...kinda...”

“Boring, right? Is this your first mission?”

“Yep. I signed up straight out of college. Everyone else on board seems to have friends already. People they know from previous trips.” She looked down again. “I don’t seem to fit in anywhere.”

Now Carl remembered her. He’d seen her sitting by herself at meals. He’d thought that was what she liked to do, or he would have sat with her. Some people were loners. Was her name Pasha or Sasha? He couldn’t remember, and it would be embarrassing to ask. He had a feeling she was with geo-phys.

“You fly the shuttle really well,” the woman said. “I hardly felt that landing.”

“Huh, the shuttle just about flies...I mean, I trained for five years...to fly starships, and...” He faltered. “Looking forward to a good day...taking...rock samples?”

She laughed. “I don’t take rock samples. I operate that.” She pointed to a large metal instrument another member of geo-phys was pulling out of the cargo hold. It looked like a device for torturing medium-sized, warm-blooded mammals. Like humans.

“Right,” replied Carl, nodding, “I see. And that’s a...”

“GPR. Ground Penetrating Radar.”

“Hmm...” He rubbed his chin. “Thought I recognized it.”

The woman laughed again. “You’re funny.” She paused a moment to look at the ocean, then back at Carl. She pulled on an earlobe. “After we get back, I don’t suppose...” She paused and looked away. “Do you want to meet up for dinner?”

His eyes widened. “Sure, that’d be great.” But where? The ship’s refectory was the last place aboard for a potentially romantic dinner. “I tell you what, meet me in the shuttle bay when you’ve freshened up, and I’ll bring something special to eat.”

Carl had been hoarding a care package his mother had sent him for the mission. She did it every time he went away. Now would be a good time to break into the tinned and packaged luxury foods.

“Okay,” said the woman, smiling. “See you then.”

Carl watched as Pasha or Sasha went to the other side of the shuttle to pick up her torture device. She wasn’t Harrington, but she seemed really nice and in need of a friend. Harrington was confined to quarters anyway. Personally, he thought the woman’s quick temper was sneck, but Loba didn’t agree. But Carl wasn’t going to pine over her. It wasn’t every day a Pasha or Sasha invited you on a date.

***

* * * *

THE DAY PASSED SLOWLY for Carl due to the promise of a pleasant evening with the geo-phys scientist. He spent some of the time watching the RA team surveying and sampling the air, plants, water, rocks, sand, and dirt of the planet. He tried not to be too obvious about paying special attention to Pasha or Sasha, but then she and the rest of geo-phys went away over the sand dunes in the direction of the hexagonal structure. After Haggardy fell asleep in the passenger cabin—he hadn’t set foot outside the shuttle the entire time—Carl played the games he’d surreptitiously uploaded to the shuttle’s console while he waited for the RA team to return.

As the sun began to set, PashaorSasha came back, walking with the rest of geo-phys as they returned from the alien structure. They’d been gone two or three hours, and Carl wondered what they had all been doing inside the building for so long. The team made their way down the beach dunes, and at the same time other RA members began to straggle back to the shuttle. The sampling session was over. Haggardy sat up and rubbed his eyes, before asking the team members vaguely how the session had gone.

When everyone was aboard, Carl put on his headset and did a final passenger check. He closed the airlock, fastened his harness, and smiled to himself at the promise of an enjoyable dinner ahead.

Chapter Four

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