Excerpt: Galindra and the Troll
The ForeSender Chronicles
Excerpt: Fury
Excerpt: Dragon Sleuth
Galaxy Flux Series
Titles By Adrian Murphy
About the Author
1
“Welcome to the Badlands, me hearties. Though I’m not sure our arrival here is somethin’ to celebrate.” Mal’s voice had an uneasy edge as it resounded from the overhead speakers in the cockpit of the heavily modified Interstellar Coalition gunship, Adventurer. “In other news, I’m relieved to report there aren’t any contacts near our current location, arrr.”
“I guess it’s only appropriate our AI is in full pirate mode, since we’re now crossing the border into the most lawless sector of space,” Zoe said from the weapons station. She sounded subdued, her fingers never straying far from the hard light holographic display controlling the spacecraft’s primary batteries of laser and ion cannons.
Hands steady on the joystick, Jack Grady rasped his fingers across his stubbled chin and glanced over his shoulder. “Maybe he’s got the right idea. We need to blend in and find somewhere safe to set down so Squirt and Lian can continue making repairs to the fusion drive.”
He turned to face the pilot’s holo, scrutinized the readings, and flicked his gaze to the ceiling. “Mal, run a sensor scan, max range. Find me a remote spot where we can land without risk of detection.”
“Aye, aye, Cap’n,” Mal replied. “Scannin’ now.”
“Preferably a hollowed-out asteroid with full repair facilities,” Zoe said without lifting her head. “And a well-stocked bar. With nachos. And extra cheese, the gooier the better.”
“Alas, my awesome Amazonian, I am the ship’s AI, not a genie in a lamp,” Mal said, switching to his crisp, butlerlike tones. “Such a repair facility would be ideal, but I fear is beyond even my advanced abilities to conjure up. Though perhaps locating a bar in the Badlands that serves the crunchy edible you desire is not beyond the bounds of possibility. I imagine even pirates enjoy nachos.”
Zoe smacked her lips. “They certainly appreciate a good beer.” She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Darn. Now I’ll never stop thinking about hot gooey nachos dripping with cheese.” She reached for the stainless-steel mug nestled in a cupholder beside her console and went to bring it to her lips. She hesitated, seeming to think better of it, lifted the lid, and grimaced. “Ugh. Cold and stale. I need a fresh coffee.”
With a weary chuckle, Grady dipped his head and yawned into his forearm. “Might not be such a bad idea to install a beverage maker on the flight deck after all. I could use a jolt of caffeine round about now myself.” He thought of comming Tara in her quarters so she could relieve him, leave him free to quench his thirst with a hot drink—or something stronger—but decided against it.
After escaping from the Earth Galactic starcarrier Ganymede and its fighters and setting course for the brigand-infested Badlands, he had left her in command so he could meet with Professor Chalmers and Zoe in his quarters. His sister had spent hours in the cockpit and needed her rest. They all did, given the precariousness of their newfound situation and the uncertain challenges he sensed they would face if they were to find their way home again.
Following the tense meeting, he’d asked Zoe to fill Tara in on what they had discovered and, dreading the outcome, called everyone else to the lounge except for Albright and Landon. He would notify the pair of truculent diplomats in person later, ideally when he no longer entertained even the slightest temptation to space them—though Grady doubted the desire to rid himself of the duo, especially Albright, would ever completely dissipate. For now, they remained incarcerated in a cabin for their abortive attempt to hijack the vessel.
As he expected, reactions to the news he communicated were mixed. Lian’s face lit up, and she bounced on her chair, vibrating with visible excitement, when Grady informed the group that the ship had inadvertently entered an alternate reality. Her mentor, Squirt, nodded, muttering to himself. It was as if the disclosure confirmed the senior engineer’s worst suspicions for why the fusion drive was out of phase with the spacetime continuum and refused to operate as normal, disengaging at random despite his and Lian’s best efforts to apply a temporary fix. The burly Frenchman drew her to one side and launched into a more technical explanation of their circumstances than Grady had offered.
Hawthorne’s demeanor was pensive as he stroked his abundant, graying mustache. Grady suspected the doctor had drawn his own conclusions after confirming that the DNA of each person on board had somehow been altered since they began the mission to track the mysterious alien transmission and locate its recipient.
Sam looked pale and agitated—his lips parted and his eyes flitting from one person to another—but didn’t seem surprised. Chalmers had no doubt briefed her assistant after she left Grady’s quarters following the meeting with Zoe and him. She bent her head and spoke to Sam in hushed tones, gesticulating with her hands as if to emphasize her words.
The captain’s gaze rested on the young space archeologist. Chalmers, or, rather, Monika—he reminded himself they were now on a first name basis after their close brush with death during their time on Yerconam—had mentioned her subordinate had become engaged just before the mission began. Perhaps she was trying to reassure Sam that they would survive and he would get to see his fiancée again, his entire married life still ahead of him. Grady looked away. Could any of them truly make hopeful promises about their future? What if they were marooned in this dimension, doomed to never be with their loved ones again? How long would their friends and families wait before giving up hope? Perhaps some never would, and Sam’s fiancée would grow old and die, still wondering what had become of him, still hoping he would walk through the door and into her arms. Heartbroken to the end.
Grady shuddered and focused on keeping his breathing calm, letting the conversations flow around him. His gaze met that of Mbeki. The sergeant wore a stoic expression, the marine’s muscular arms folded over his chest as he leaned against the wall near the beverage station. He suspected the battle-hardened soldier would treat the news of landing in a parallel universe as just another challenge to overcome. Though Grady wondered if any training, or combat experience, could prepare them for the unknown dangers they were sure to encounter. If what the alternate Cavill told us is true concerning the shaky state of the rebellion, he mused, everything we knew from our own reality could be different here. Finding a safe dock to make repairs might be the least of our difficulties.
With a sudden frown, Grady noticed an absence: Fidelon. No matter, he would swing by the alien’s cabin after the briefing. The alien. He still found it difficult to fathom that he and his crew had been the ones to make contact with an actual extraterrestrial. He should have been delighted, celebrating, making ready to introduce Fidelon to the Interstellar Coalition’s governing council. Except now, in this alternate dimension, did the leadership even exist? Maybe it would have been best if he had never found the recipient of the strange broadcast. What if I’ve brought Fidelon into the middle of a war? One my side appears to be losing.
The group discussion went better than he anticipated. Everyone stayed calm despite the unprecedented situation. No one ranted about how they were lost in another reality, separated from friends and loved ones, possibly forever. Perhaps no one wanted to voice such hope-eviscerating fears in public. It helped that some people either knew, or suspected, the truth in advance. Instead, the debate centered on a much more practical consideration: how to return home. Grady wasn’t surprised at the outcome, everyone agreeing that their best hope was to repair the fusion drive.
Could it be stabilized, several of the group asked, so that Adventurer might safely travel at faster-than-light speeds for long enough to evade hostile forces and return to where they last rendezvoused with the alien ship? Known as Infinity Guardian Epsilon—Epsilon for short—it possessed the ability to create its own wormhole on demand, enabling them to transit back to their proper dimension, or so Fidelon had told them. That they now found themselves in a parallel universe—Epsilon’s infinity drive malfunctioning because of damage suffered during an electromagnetic storm surge—seemed to bear him out.
Squirt fingered his ample beard at this, his manner morose. “Lian and I have done all we can with the tools at our disposal. We need a dedicated space dock or, failing that, a station like New Heb with extensive repair capabilities. Otherwise, only short bursts at FTL are possible before needing to drop out and recalibrate the fusion drive.” He gave an expressive shrug, shoulders reaching toward his ears, and waved his arms. “I regret, but there is no other choice.” He tossed Grady a searching look. “The question is, where in the Badlands can we discover such a sophisticated complex, eh? And, should we be lucky enough to come across the right place, will they permit us to dock and make repairs—or seek to blow us to atoms?”
“We’re working on it,” Grady said. “Tara and Mal are scanning the sector as we speak. The real trick will be avoiding entanglements with pirates, slavers, and other unsavory characters. Adventurer can handle herself in a fight, but not if we end up battling the entire Badlands. Ideally, we need to locate a repair facility and get in and out without raising a general alarm.” He paused and let his gaze roam across the group. “The inhabitants are not likely to roll out the red carpet for us, quite the opposite. I won’t sugarcoat the challenge we face. It’s not going to be easy.”
“Then I suggest we leave you and your capable crew to get on with it,” Chalmers declared into the preoccupied silence that followed Grady’s words, her tone resolute. “The sooner the drive is fixed and we escape the Badlands, the safer I’ll feel. I’m sure we can all agree on that.” She stood, her hands on her hips and her chin lifted. “Once we rendezvous with Fidelon’s spacecraft, we’ll stand a decent chance of returning to our own reality. For now, I trust the captain to do all he can to get us home, in one piece.”
Grady sent her a grateful smile, then adjourned the briefing, promising to provide regular updates as the situation developed. On his way back to the cockpit, he stopped at the alien’s quarters and thumbed the button requesting entrance. He heard a muffled chime, but the door remained shut and there was no response from within. Tempted to try again—or use his captain’s override code to unlock the door—he hesitated. Fidelon had retired to his cabin, saying he felt fatigued after awakening from an extended sojourn in cryosleep. Grady decided to leave the alien to his rest and would bring him up to speed on the dangers they faced when he was once more up and about.
Now Grady sat deeper into the pilot’s seat and eyed the sensor holo. “Anything to report, Mal?”
“Well, the good news is we still have this stretch of the Badlands to ourselves, Matey,” said the AI, sounding upbeat and piratical.
Zoe angled her head to peer at the roof and narrowed her eyes. “I sense an unspoken ‘but’. Don’t hold back, digital dude.”
“Would I ever?” Mal said. “I was about to add, I’m not detectin’ anythin’ like a dock or suitable space station that might offer the support facilities our dogged engineers need. At least not anywhere near the border of the Badlands within sensor range.”
Grady uttered a slow exhalation, his attention fixed on the sensor display. “I was afraid of that.” He drummed his fingers on the padded arm of his chair. “It’s a long shot, but try searching the public databases, in case a helpful pilot or traveler logged the location of a viable repair facility deeper in the Badlands.”
“Your wish is my command. Or your order, as in this case. Arrr, Cap’n.”
Zoe let her head fall back and chortled. She swiped moisture from the corner of her eye and slid Grady a skeptical sideways glance. “I’ve heard of clutching at straws, Boss. But that’s more like grasping at a sliver of a toothpick. I can’t imagine somewhere as chaotic as the Badlands would have much in the way of public records or a searchable resource database.”
“I know, I know,” Grady said, fanning his hand. “But it’s worth a try. We might get a pleasant surprise. Stranger things have happened. I hope.”
