The bright blue flash of a nomad weapon brought my attention sharply back up to the glass dome separating me from the cold unfriendly vacuum of space. Where the hells did they come from? Did they just uncloak?
In all probability, they had probably snuck up on me when I was tractoring in the nomad powercell, but that was no consolation now I had four nomads on my tail, my shield was being shredded and I was in deep... trouble. As I jinked and turned, trying to get a lock on one of them, I spammed the radio.
This is Legionnaire Mudslinger; I am in Omicron Alpha, by the jump hole to the Nomad system. I have four, no make that eight nomads crawling all over me. Can anyone assist?
...Crackle... ...Fizz...
Just static from the radio? Was I being jammed by the nomads or was I alone? Was this a test on my first day as a Legionnaire?
All other options exhausted I had to choose between fighting or fleeing. Saving the second option for when things got really tough, I ploughed back through the tight wing-formation of the nomads, diamondbacks blazing, nomad guns flickering back from the blue hulls across the rapidly closing gap. Have a taste of your own medicine! The load-out that my new rank entitled me to was beautifully balanced, delivering awesome firepower. Diamondbacks strike hard.
They broke formation, scattering like leaves in the wind, only to form up behind me. The pounding on the hull of my eagle was setting up vibrations that bucked and jerked me against my harness.
Time to make a graceful exit.
I turned towards them, blasting away, and flicked the engine kill-switch. Pulsing my thrusters, I dove and swooped around the wrecks and asteroids, until I was out of range of those terrible guns. I kicked into cruise, and checked the rear-view. Nope. Still there.
Danger. Entering suns Corona
My attention zapped back to the forward view, and I hauled back on the controls, watching my shield dissolve in the nuclear and magnetic radiation of the White Dwarf. The pounding my hull had taken earlier meant that I didnt want to take any chances here: certain death ahead, uncertain death behind.
Shield Failed.
The veins were popping out from my forearms as I struggled to lift the nose of the ship out of the gravity well of the sun, the heat from which was making my hands and face slick with sweat, making me lose my grip and stinging my eyes. I blinked to clear the sweat, and saw the blue flash of a nomad ship pass me, tumbling into the undeniable hunger of the sun. The ship started to brighten, then flashed actinic-white, so bright it hurt my eyes through closed lids, and the explosion rocked my ship.
Hull breach imminent.
In the flick of an eye, I felt the forces rip through my fragile body the sudden and undeniable tug of the vacuum, pulling my limbs from their sockets, the immeasurable crushing from the gravity of the sun, the acid burning of the hydrogen, the freezing of the blood in my hands and feet.
Blue.
The pain was gone. The weight lifted from my heart. I felt as light as a feather, with about as many worries.
Blue.
How long I floated in this blue state, Ill never know. I do remember, in a lucid period, smiling to myself that a navicomputer probably feels this calm when its showing the bluescreen-of-death.
Blue.
A point of light: white, in the centre of my vision.
A noise: scratch scratch squawk scratch scritch
Sensation: a tickle, building to an itch, blossoming into red-hot searing pain.
Blue.
Slowly, the blue faded into black, then gradually into grey. I could see shapes moving about me, like shadows cast upon a curtain. A fuzzy blob centred, gradually resolving into a face, lit from below, like a creature from a nightmare. I screamed, and passed out.
Black.
Gradually, I became aware of my surroundings. I was lying in a bed, immobilised. There was a window to a corridor in front of me, and a door to the left of it. A small sink was set in a recess in the wall to the right.The door opened, and a man came into the room, wearing the uniform of the Liberty Navy, followed by a woman in white.
Sir, you really shouldnt be in here we need to run some tests on him before you interrogate him.
He passed the Nomad test, thats all I need to know. He stomped into the room, and sat on the bed. Name?
Paul Masterson, call sign Mudslinger, Rank: Legionnaire, Number: 6229348.
Well, Mudslinger, what were you doing in Connecticut, in an Eagle, with nomad weaponry in your hold?
Paul Masterson, call sign Mudslinger, Rank: Legionnaire, Number: 6229348.
You can forget the name-rank-number stuff here, son. We want to know how you came by those weapons, and why are you flying a Zoner ship with no ID card?
The weapons I gained by trial of combat, the ship was assigned to me when I was promoted to Legionnaire.
What outfit?
The White Tigers'
'The what now? Never heard of them son. Try again.
The White Tigers? The WT? How can you not have heard of us when every pirate in Sirius hates us because we go out hunting them to stop them hunting pirates? Have you never heard a WT decry his Vindicata across system broadcast channel? Our motto is 'No quarter will be asked, none will be given' - Do you understand that means we are ALWAYS on the front line, in the line of fire, taking hits so that the traders can continue unmolested? Whilst traders and freelancers may have the hearts of tigers, it's us that they look to provide the roar? We regularly have recruitment drives have you been under a rock for a while?'
Sarcasm had no effect on him.
This is the worst attempt at an insanity plea Ive ever heard of, but enough already. I get it, you're a regular stand-up guy, in that you're a comedian. The weapons are a moot point, as they were destroyed, but you haven't answered my question about the ID card'.
'ID card? What are you on about?'
'Your id-tag controls the tractor beam.
'What? How do they control it? They work well enough without?
Well I would say that you could get back into your ship and try it, but weve had to impound your ship as you were unable to pay the 5m credit fine for bringing contraband into Liberty Space. However, due to the lily-livered liberals who wrote the Liberty Security Code, denying you the right to travel is in contravention of your human rights, and is tantamount to imprisonment. As we have no solid evidence against you, we are not only letting you go, but were giving you your very own Starflier. Arent we nice?
An evil grin split his face. And so you can try to work a tractor beam without an id after all.
He stood up, shoved a tablet in front of me, saying Put your right index finger here, and here. The ship will be waiting for you on the landing dock, when sickbay let you go. If they let you go, that is. He whirled around on his heel, and marched out. No sooner had the door closed when the nurse re-entered the room.
What did he mean if you let me go?
I dont know any details, but the doctors were talking about wormholes and radiation, and something about a powercell signature. The ship we pulled you out of was like a colander the emergency teams were able to tear it like paper. That navy officer was lying; there wasnt even scrap value left. As for guns, well, there were some strange melted shapes the Navy were getting excited about, but Ive never seen nomad weaponry up close before. The doctors will know more.
When can I leave?
If it were up to me? As soon as possible, we need the space for the navy boys they scrape up from the war with Rheinland.
War? Rheinland?
Yes. The war'.
What war?
She looked at me, expressionlessly for a while. Ill go fetch the doctor, shall I?
As she left the room, I reflected on the fact that nurses seem to come in two shapes, stick-thin or dumpling, like theres a machine somewhere, producing nurses by the thousand, in two efficient flavours. I dozed.
Good morning Mr. Masterson. The balding heads reflection dazzled me for a moment, until it resolved into an avuncular face with half-moon glasses supported by a green and red striped bow-tie.
Im not a civilian, so dont call me Mister. Dont call me Masterson, call me Mudslinger. In fact, this early in the morning, dont call me at all.
Come come now, Mudslinger, Im fitting you in as a favour for nurse Eversden, she seems to have taken quite a shine to you. I suppressed an inward shudder at my dumpling-magnet abilities.
Tell me what you can remember. Whats your first memory?' His voice droned on and on, and at some point I struggled to stay awake. No Paul, Im hypnotising you to gain access to your memories, dont fight it, just let it drift past you in a wave. Breathe in out relax. Thats it. Now then. Tell me about your training
I awoke in the dead of night, the room lit by a soft glow from the corridor. Thats it, no more trick-cyclists messing with my head. Im for getting out of here. I swung up out of the bed, and crossed to the door. Prodding and poking, sliding my hands around the door frame, looking for the switch that opened it. Defeated, I slumped on the bed, and looked at the wall above the headboard. A green button and a red button flanked a light switch. Deducing that the red button might bring hordes of paramedics carrying needles with intent - after all, I was sitting in a backless gown - Why do these medical folk need to get to your bottom in such a hurry anyway, I thought as I poked the green button, hoping for an orderly. The slap-slap-slap of soft shoes announced someones arrival. The door swished back, and a stick-insect nurse stood in the door-way.
Yes?
Can I have my clothes? Id like to get out of here before that baldy head-shrinker gets back to prodding around inside my brains again.
She smiled at my description. Dr Williams isnt so bad. Hes baffled the Navy by declaring you sane, and youre free to go.
Great. Clothes?
Burnt.
What? Why? When?
When you decided to dive into the wormhole inside a sun, I presume. First time I ever washed the ashes of clothes off any patient.
I blushed. Its not that I mind women seeing my nakedness, its just that Id like to be able to remember it. At the very least, have a say in who gets to see the goodies'.
If you wait until the morning, well arrange something from the lost-and-found, and maybe some breakfast too.
Grumbling, I settled back onto the bed. The door closed, leaving me alone with my thoughts until sleep claimed me.
The flight-suit had had several previous careless owners, but if the choice was between looking like a scarecrow and going naked, well, its not really a choice. Leaving the med-bay, I walked over to the landing pad and took stock:
Assets, one flight-suit, and apparently a starflea. Debits, nil. Prospects, nil.
The Starflier was waiting for me on the landing pad, as promised. I crawled all over it, and noted the slot in the tractor beam for an id card. Pulling out the stiff square of plastic, I noted the words Civilian and some stuff about level 40, what ever that meant. Just a glance at the equipment dealers inventory told this Toto that this wasnt Kansas anymore. The technology behind some of these new weapons amazed me things that had been impossible to implement back home where commonplace here. Likewise, the coffee-pot shaped CSV in the ship dealers hangar told me I was a long way from home.
Suddenly seized by a blast of overwhelming panic, I ran to the landing pad, and blasted out of the docking ring. Ships of all shapes and sizes lurched at me, and I weaved between huge destroyers interrogating a mercenary where he got his order-cruiser from. I broadcast a general enquiry to the whereabouts of the Connecticut System, and jumped straight in. I dont know what I was hoping for maybe a flash of light and a return trip to my own universe, but I crawled all over that system, looking for the slightest evidence of a jump-hole to the space-time I called home.
Several hours later, almost weeping with desperation and frustrated beyond belief, I docked with Manhatten, and went to drown my sorrows in the bar. Even the bar tender stopped me short. He was the same guy as back home! How? Knowing him to be a soft touch on the down-and-out, I approached him.
Well, if its not our very own deep-fried Buck Rogers he quipped.
If its all the same to you, Id prefer it if you didnt say its not every day a man gets a chance to start again I retorted.
He laughed, and slid a Liberty Ale over the counter. This one's on me if you promise not to ask for a Sidewinder Fang...
I propped up the bar, nursing the beer, and let my ears fill with the chatter of Keepers, Das Wilde, XA, OPG, skirmish in Texas, and the like. I felt like a chess player sitting down to a hexagonal board, with many different pieces, facing an opponent who wont tell you the rules, and who grins all the time. I needed money, that was clear. I probably couldnt even afford to be a vagrant here. I was separated from my regiment, with no clear idea how or if I would ever get back. I truly was a stranger in a strange land. I thought of my parents, and the girlfriends I'd left behind. I thought of my friends, and my uneventful childhood on Cambridge, where I'd always railed against the boredom of a humdrum life. It seemed that the universe had been saving up adventure for me, and had delivered it in huge dollops. Sitting around moping wasn't an option; I had, literally, to get myself a life.