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Friday, April 11, 2014

Short Story: Transfer (Chapter 1 of 3)

Team Savant is on hiatus for a few weeks. Here is an adventure of an outlaw set three centuries into the future. Have fun as you follow the adventure of Tyson. To read the previous Team Savant story click here to go to Short Story: Big Trouble in Little Hela.


The sun shone through the debris shield of his ship. The pilot’s shades Tyson wore protected his eyes from the bright light.  With life support at minimal, the light became an unwelcome furnace.  The radiation from the light reached unhealthy levels; however, thanks to his genetically enhanced, melanin rich skin, the sun was the least of his worries.

He gathered the two wires under the control panel and soldered them to the motherboard. He moved quickly to the main power panel in the cargo hold. He grabbed the railing, held on tight, pushed all of the air out of his lungs and pulled the red lever. The lights went out, the air became nonexistent and gravity ceased to exist. He would need to wait five minutes for a full reboot.

Tyson hummed a song in his head. A lullaby. He had no idea why he knew—any song. He never knew his mother and his taste in music leaned toward Jovian Rhythm and Blues. When his wrist indicator flashed he pulled hard on the lever. Gravity. Power. Oxygen, all returned instantly. He fell hard to the floor but immediately rolled up and ran to the cockpit. He re-started the engine and the main computer. Switching to manual control, a circular steering wheel appeared from the floor of the shuttle. He tilted the steering column downward and the ship gently shifted downward. He pressed a button and the ship streaked through space. “Computer, complete a full systems check,” he said.

“Full systems check complete.”

He pushed the steering mechanism away. “Report.”

“Systematic systems crash eminent.”

“How much time?”

“Seventeen United Planetary hours.”

“Tell me how to stop the cascade.”

“You cannot. You can only download my mind into another ship.”

“Closest colony?”

“Mercury is forty hours away at top speed… Tyson, serving you has been an adventure.”

“Don’t be so quick to say goodbye,” Tyson said. He pushed back from the controls and stood up. He walked into the cargo bay—his makeshift quarters. He pressed a button and a bed shot out from the wall. He lay down and relaxed. “Computer…you do know that if I can’t fix you that I will die out here too.”

“Yes.”

“I will not die. Not like this. Never like this.”

“There is a way for you to live, but you may choose death.”

“I am allergic to dying, so tell me my options.”

“There is a UP security post twelve hours away.”

“So die or go back to Europa,” he said. “Death does sound appealing… Plot a course for the security post. As soon as we are in range of their sensors download your consciousness into a sustainable crystal.”

“What are you planning?”

     “Don’t worry. I am not letting you go that easy.”

“You don’t have a plan do you.”

“No.”

Within ten hours two fighter pilots intercepted Tyson’s ship. Tyson put on a cloak to cover his black and gold pilot’s jumpsuit, a moment after the ship landed in the central bay. When he walked out the main doors, three men greeted him with power rifles. A dark contrast to their silver body armor.

“Take off the cloak, move forward and prepare to be scanned.”

Tyson stepped forward. As soon as one of the officers took his cloak, the overhead scanner bathed him with invasive rays.

“Your bone and muscular density is twice as high as an earth born human. What colony are you from?”

“Does it matter?”

“Answer truthfully or we will shoot you.”

“I don’t have a home. I am a criminal and I would like to turn myself in. That is all. I don’t really feel like having a conversation.”

“We will find your identity as soon as we get a DNA sample. Take those glasses off.”

“My eyes are light sensitive,” Tyson said.

One of the officers struck him in the back of his head with the butt of his rifle. He then grabbed the shades and ripped them off. Tyson immediately covered his eyes. The officers hit him until he stopped moving.

“Take him to the holding cell until we are ready to process him,” one of them said. “If he gives you any trouble, you may shoot him.” They proceeded to drag him to a cell. For three minutes they dragged him along the metal floor. The light reflecting off the metal floors were blinding. Tyson relied on his other senses along the way to get his bearings. He could take out the two men, but doing so would just cause even more trouble. He needed to be subtle. One guard pulled a string of hair from his head.

He needed to hurry.

It would only be a moment before they found his true identity. 

Once Tyson was in his cell, he curled up in a corner. A post like this was guaranteed to have thirty UP officers. Could he take them all? Once again, he tapped into his senses; there was only one guard on duty. The guard, too small and curvy to be a man, seemed almost disinterested in the job. He sniffed and caught the musk of a woman. It was a sweet smell like stolen candy. Still he was cautious. Even a single guard. Male or female could get lucky.

“Hey. What’s up with your eyes?” she asked.

Tyson held his smile in check. “My eyes are light sensitive.”

“Really? Are your eyes genetically enhanced? Made for working in the adamantium mines?

“Well, that was the intent,” Tyson said.

“What do you mean?”

“Let’s just say it didn’t go as planned.” He leaned back against the wall “Why are you so curious?”

“I don’t get to see much around here,” she said. “It’s rare that we even get a prisoner around here. You may be the only decent conversation that I get.”
                  
                 End of Chapter 1
Return next Saturday for Chapter 2 of Transfer.



NOTE:
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