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    Space Academy Rebels: The Mind Drive
    Space Academy Rebels: The Mind Drive
    Space Academy Rebels: The Mind Drive
    Ebook496 pages5 hours

    Space Academy Rebels: The Mind Drive

    By Ian Hall

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    About this ebook

    The year is 2617, and Stacey Pencrom is on her way to Space Academy!
    Every year MacCollies, the corporate entity who control space travel, scour the Human planets for the best young minds; kids who will one day fly their vast space fleet.
    But this year is different.
    The members of the class have a far higher paranormal ability than ever before... off the chart!
    As they struggle through their first year, they discover secrets about MacCollies that would rock Humanity; it seems their conglomerate benefactor is not as squeaky-clean as they’d like to make out.
    Eventually decisions have to be made, paths taken which were never envisaged by the young students.
    They would never have guessed they would change the galaxy.
    If you like Enders Game and Divergent, you’ll love The Mind Drive.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherIan Hall
    Release dateMar 29, 2017
    ISBN9781370473052
    Space Academy Rebels: The Mind Drive
    Author

    Ian Hall

    Ian Hall is a former Commander Officer of No. 31 Squadron (1992-4), as well as being the editor and writer of the Squadron Association's three-times-a-year 32-page newsletter. He is the author of Upwards, an aviation-themed novel currently available as a Kindle download. This is his first full-length historical study, having previously penned a 80-page history of No 31 Squadron's early Tornado years.

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      Book preview

      Space Academy Rebels - Ian Hall

      For centuries the MacCollies Corporation had trolled the human planets looking for the best young minds to enter Space Academy. The successful graduates, four years later, would staff their vast conglomerate and become the officers of the giant MacCollies space fleet. It was an upward filter into the largest organization in the Galaxy; a willing skimming of the cream of human population.

      Since MacCollies virtually owned space travel, the letter of invitation was one of the most prized communiques known; students were eager beyond measure to become the newest MacCollies intake. The inductees had no age limits, no physical requirements, and no other parameters than the mind itself. Most, of course, driven by the many sweeps of the known Earth Sector planets, were young children, and as such, the majority of MacCollies Space Academy intake was an annual stocking of children from the age of ten upwards.

      Only twenty percent made it through the first year, with an extra seven percent making it to year three. By the end of the fourth, when the final tests were carried out, only around eight percent of their initial intake survived.

      Every year MacCollies called the best of humanity to the test, employed the best of the best, and let the also-ran’s drift back into society. To be dropped from a MacCollie School held a stigma for a while, but that soon passed; to the rest of humanity, even MacCollies’ cast-offs were considered the very best of employees. Many other institutes of learning were filled with the youth of MacCollies detritus. It was an annual flow of pre-screened, pre-trained intelligence that could never have been done without the large corporation’s initial tests.

      In the Earth Year 2617, one hundred and six thousand young children left their families and travelled to the MacCollie headquarters on Madagascar, Earth. Each came from differing backgrounds; each had dreams, drive and determination.

      But, unknown to the Universe, some had a destiny; a path to fame where fortune becomes an irrelevance.

      This is the story of the MacCollies Space Academy inductees of the year 2617, and how they changed the universe forever.

      NOTE: The Decimal Day.

      In the early days of space travel, the old concept of Earth ‘day’ and ‘night’ became blurred, although most space stations, spacecraft and mining operations continued to use the Earth 24 hour clock. It was an ingrained habit, but up in space it made little sense.

      This carried on for almost two hundred years. As colonization of worlds increased, every new planet or moon had either a different period of rotation from the Earth, or no rotation at all then. Some colonists used the Earth system, others used local time systems.

      As these local systems became more diverse, it was time for a new solution to measure time in space; a consensus.

      In 2250, MacCollies announced the introduction of the Decimal Day.

      Having 86,400 seconds in a normal Earth 24 hour day, it was easy to chop it into a 100,000 second day; the seconds were just 13% shorter; it was nothing that technology couldn’t adapt to.

      The solution was simple… 100 seconds in every minute, 100 minutes in every hour, 10 hours in a day. And it would still work perfectly on Earth, still the most populated planet.

      Like I say, simple.

      Of course it threw up some strange anomalies; noon was five o’clock, for instance, and half past six was actually six o’clock, and fifty minutes. The system, because it was being used by the biggest users in space, caught on; despite some reticence from some Earth communities, it was rapidly the unit of time in most of the Earth Sector.

      The rapid speed of space travel did, however, throw up some irregularities. Each ship, once slowing below half the speed of light (FTLx0.5) had to readjust their ship’s clocks to slide back in place with MacCollies Central Time, broadcast from their Headquarters on Mars.

      Only after the invention of instantaneous communications did this become more standard.

      However, some more stubborn colonies still held on resolutely to the old system.

      Introduction

      Part One: Initiation

      Chapter 1 Markus Skavenger; the Perils of Sleep

      Chapter 2 2617-019211 Stacey Pencrom; Notification

      Chapter 3 Markus Skavenger; Solitude is No Comfort

      Chapter 4 2617-102239 Willem Diakité

      Chapter 5 Stacey Pencrom; Long Distance Loneliness

      Chapter 6 Markus Skavenger; Dealing With It All

      Chapter 7 2617-0000643 Daveed Taymourian; Notification

      Chapter 8 2617-0074527 Markus Skavenger; Notification

      Chapter 9 Willem Diakité; Waking Up

      Chapter 10 Markus Skavenger; Unwilling Company

      Chapter 11 Daveed Taymourian; Studying the Academy

      Chapter 12 Markus Skavenger; the Elephant in the Cabin

      Chapter 13 2617-0074528 Kristine Skavenger; Notification

      Chapter 14 Markus / Kristine

      Part Two: Academy

      Chapter 1 Stacey Pencrom; First Day in Class

      Chapter 2 Willem / Daveed / Dickov / Zelph Faber

      Chapter 3 Markus and Kristine Skavenger

      Chapter 4 Stacey / Nelia / Lucy

      Chapter 5 Willem Diakité / Stacey / Nelia / Lucy

      Chapter 6 Markus and Kristine Skavenger

      Chapter 7 Markus / Kristine / Curt Moonrise / Axis Weeks

      Chapter 8 Stacey / Willem / Nelia / Lucy

      Chapter 9 Willem / Stacey

      Chapter 10 Stacey / Markus / Daveed / Campus Shuffle Day

      Chapter 11 Markus; the Academy PQ Experiment

      Chapter 12 Daveed; Over-Achiever

      Chapter 13 Markus / Daveed / Lessons Galore

      Chapter 14 Markus / Daveed / Kristine / Things Get Heavy

      Part Three: Breakthrough

      Chapter 1 Stacey / Willem / On the Run

      Chapter 2 Kristine / Curt / In Through a Closing Door

      Chapter 3 A Bunch of Students up in the Black

      Chapter 4 Experiments at FTL Speed

      Chapter 5 The Mystery Unfolds

      Chapter 6 The Bombshell Shatters

      Chapter 7 The Mind Probe

      Chapter 8 The Deception Grows

      Chapter 9 The Deliberate Stowaway

      Chapter 10 The Final Test

      Chapter 11 Back to Normality

      Chapter 12 Remote Control

      Chapter 13 Hunter Becomes the Hunted

      Chapter 14 Minds into the Black

      Part Four: Realization

      Chapter 1 A Tour of the Galaxy

      Chapter 2 Finding their way in the Grey

      Chapter 3 Uncharted Territory

      Chapter 4 The Revolution Starts Now

      Chapter 5 Escape Pod Time Again

      Chapter 6 The Sorcerer’s Apprentice

      Chapter 7 Keeping the Cat in the Bag

      Chapter 8 The Expected Military Coup

      Chapter 9 Ghost of the Outer Markers

      Chapter 10 The Cockroaches of Asylum

      Chapter 11 Snatching the New Batch

      Chapter 12 The Mars Heist

      Chapter 13 The Building Blocks of Society

      Chapter 14 Buzzing the Beehives

      Part Five: Outcome

      Chapter 1 The Reptilian Horde

      Chapter 2 Sleeping with the Enemy

      Chapter 3 The Voyage of the Salvesen

      Chapter 4 Making Contact

      Chapter 5 The Biggest Plan in the Galaxy

      Chapter 6 The Birth of the Pantheon

      Chapter 7 The Stakes Rise

      Chapter 8 Out of Time

      Chapter 9 The Finger of Blame

      Chapter 10 The Search for Stace

      Chapter 11 At War With MacCollies

      Chapter 12 The International Assembly

      Chapter 13 The Evidence Against the Accused

      Chapter 14 The Truth Will Set You Free

      Afterword

      Marcus Skavenger; the Perils of Sleep

      "This is Tau Ceti Launch Control, Aberdeen Colony. You have a window, LongArc, but it’s not a big one, make it snappy." The voice had probably sounded human somewhere in the early stages of its career, but boredom had driven away all traces of humanity, leaving a bored-sounding middle-aged man, not giving much of a crap for anything.

      Strap down everyone. Markus Skavenger winced at his mom’s unnecessary safety announcement. She’d just done the rounds a few seconds ago, physically checking each child’s seat-belt webbing personally, even his. At fourteen, he was the eldest of the three Skavenger children, and knew the routine; he’d done it many times before, and shook his head at her constant mother-hen attitude. He winked at Erik, his nine year old baby brother, and smiled, hoping to ease his nerves. Kristine on the far side had her eyes firmly closed.

      The Space Family Robinson is once more set to launch. Markus grinned, not hiding the sarcasm in his tone.

      TC Launch Control, Aberdeen, we hear you. His father answered, cutting off his wife’s imminent chiding of their eldest. His eyes concentrated on the myriad of screens in front of him, defying any other distracting conversation. Launching in three, two, one…

      All hands gripped the arms of chairs tightly; all sets of teeth in the control cabin were clenched. Statistics didn’t lie; if their trip was to go awry, the chances were 87% that it would do so during a launch from the planet surface.

      And everyone onboard knew the LongArc was nearly sixty years old.

      The LongArc was basically a MacCollies design, a six-berth survey-scout, morphed a few years ago by the well-renowned Jamesize Company on Sirius B. The resultant transformation was not much of a change from the original design; a few upgrades on food production, recycling and an up-to-date drive system. With last year’s addition of state-of-the-art scanners, the LongArc still had plenty life in it.

      As the engines thundered behind them, vibrating every part of the ship, Markus tapped his fingers on the chair nervously; launch from a planet was never his favorite time. He thought of a time when his grandpa told the story of how he’d spend his inheritance on a spaceship, changing the lives of everyone in the process. The whole family now talked of the LongArc being the Skavenger Legacy, passed from grandad Eriah Skavenger to his son, Pieter, then one day to Markus.

      The young boy cringed at the thought. The Skavenger Legacy meant just one thing to him; the burning desire to get the freak out of the family business before it swamped him, stripped the mind-flesh from inside his brain, and turned him into the image of his old-man.

      The screens showed the slow change from blue skies to black, and as the engines eased from the thundering roar of take-off, Markus relaxed.

      Switching on ship’s systems, His father announced of the turning-on of the Artificial Intelligence that passed for a computer that ultimately ran the ship. There was too much radiation in the upper atmosphere; poor fragile ‘Nancy’ had to be protected.

      As the family felt the lessening of gravity, Nancy came on-line.

      Good morning, Nancy, Everyone chimed. It was obvious the two younger children loved her. Markus smiled and unbuckled his harness. His mother skyed her eyes; Nancy was the name of an old flame of grandad’s from his pre-grandma days. It was an old joke, and once in place, had stuck for as long as anyone could remember.

      Erik and Kristine unsnapped their buckles, switched on their holo-screens, and raced off, their magnetic soled boots clicking metallically as they ran. They were already talking independently to Nancy, happy their tutor and friend was now on-line. The young voices chirruped as they ran to their rooms, sucked into the holo-graphic entertainment that passed for education.

      It’s a go, Nancy, we need to find a looping comet and take samples.

      Markus got up slowly, and left the control room. See y’all in a couple. He threw casually behind him.

      Remember and buckle up, Markus. His mom’s tone was absent-minded, occupied with her screens.

      Yes, Mom, He chirruped like the younger kids.

      This is the last time, He said softly to himself. In three months, on his fifteenth birthday, he could apply to the Tau Ceti Space Academy without parental permission. Four years away from his family beckoned, and he looked forward to it with a passion.

      Ignoring the holoscreen, he found his books where he’d packed them, pulled the latest, and with a harness fitted tightly, settled back in his bunk to read.

      Despite the words on the pages, his mind wandered. He had three more months to wait before breaking the family bond, and it occupied most of his waking thoughts.

      His plan was simple. Having not ever been chosen for the MacCollies intake, he’d rise to the top of his class in the Tau Ceti Academy, and prove worthy enough to transfer to Earth after the first year.

      He rested the book on his chest, listened to the distant chatter between his parents and Nancy, and dreamed of his own command. He was certain that he wouldn’t carry on the family tradition; he knew he could leave that to one of the ‘kids’.

      Pieter Skavenger was a scientist-explorer, just like his own father, Eriah. Mineral-surveying had given the family a decent income for forty years, they owned their own ship, and had contracts with some of the larger corporations on Tau Ceti, but the sedentary life of a self-employed surveyor didn’t quite satisfy Markus; he wanted more.

      And it wasn’t as if his childhood had been hard or uncomfortable in any way.

      They spent most of their lives in space, and the LongArc was a nice sized craft, lots of room for a young boy to get some alone time. He grinned. What kid could ask for a better application form for Space Academy? The phrase ‘fourteen years in space’ would look good on his résumé.

      He just had one more trip to endure. Three months.

      He heard the Faber drive cut in; a low hum that announced the beginning of the main flight plan. He popped a small red pill, the pharmaceuticals that would send him to sleep, saving his body from the strong acceleration phase of their flight. As he closed his eyes, he smiled and pictured himself waving goodbye to his family, the Space Academy gates behind him.

      Somewhere in deep hard sleep Markus remembered gunfire. The dream was vivid and brutal, and he almost woke. He remembered screams. Some Alien Empire was about to smash Grandma’s house. Someone was climbing onto his bunk. Yuk! Then he slipped into a warm bath, his head under the water to keep out the noises of Galactic turmoil.

      When he woke, his face was buried in a pillow of silk, darkness surrounding him.

      He squirmed against his nestled captivity, his legs encountering pressure, his arms tight against his body.

      Then, as realization dawned, he relaxed, and began to breathe more gently.

      He was safely in his bolt-hole.

      It wasn’t the first time nightmares had made Markus hide in the hidden compartment of his deepest closet. He felt above his head, found the cold metal of a small door, and gave it a push. Cabin light flooded inside, his bunk looming close-by and, of course, empty. With a grin he extricated himself from the cocoon of clean laundry, and clambered out, his magnetic boots ensuring he didn’t drift into the room.

      Then, as his senses returned, the silence burst into the cabin like a cannon.

      Absolutely nothing. No engine noises. No control functions. No kids.

      That’s weird, He walked to the door, almost slamming his face into the now immobile surface. Damn. He stood back, knowing the door should have opened automatically as he approached. He pressed the appropriate buttons on the panel on the wall; the door still didn’t budge.

      A red light on the small console jarred his senses. Red meant bad air in the corridor beyond, or maybe no air at all.

      Talk about a rude awakening. He pressed comms. Nancy? What’s wrong with my door?

      Nothing.

      Dad? What’s going on out there?

      Nothing.

      Mom? Markus’s voice had risen in volume and tone. By the time he’d called their names a dozen times, he was hammering on the door, his hands aching. He only stopped when he realized he was screaming, kicking the door, hearing no sound in answer.

      Freak me sideways.

      MacCollies Space Academy, Administration Division, Northern Madagascar, Earth.

      Clément Moover walked into the office of the Senior Administration Officer at exactly noon, five o’clock decimal time. The SAO looked up from paperwork from three holoscreens. Come in, Clem. Sit down, pour yourself something.

      Clément sat as instructed, and uncorked a thirty year old scotch. He’d been chided in the past for not partaking when asked; he had no intention of letting such an opportunity go by again. Bracks Obalwayo was not a man to be disobeyed.

      You said you had the final figures on this year’s intake? Obalwayo swept the hologram screens to one side to see his visitor more clearly.

      Yes, sir,

      Give me the two minute tour.

      Clément cleared his throat, he had no need to consult his own holoscreen; he knew the figures well. There’s the usual roughly one percent increase in Paranormal Quotient, and as usual we’re putting that down to better interbreeding with MacCollies employees.

      The theory was nothing new; the fact that the cream of humanity was captured every year and thrown in the one circumstance had been the general theory for PQ increase for many years.

      We’re projecting a figure of thirteen percent PQ talent this year, but that of course will probably increase as we monitor the students on campus.

      Any trouble-makers?

      Clément shook his head. Not as yet, but some will raise their heads above the parapets before commencement.

      Stragglers?

      Seven percent and change, sir. No discernable rise from previous years, and nothing untoward.

      Both men knew that such matters could have been conducted by mail, but the weekly meetings between Obalwayo and his senior staff had always been done face to face. In the shielded room they had no chance of being monitored in any way.

      Excellent, Clem. Keep up the good work.

      Moover finished his Scotch and rose to leave. He always had a feeling of reticence before every year’s intake, and 2617 was no different. He left the SAO’s office disquieted, suspicions niggling at his very soul. He shook his head and tried to dismiss the feeling… just like he did every year.

      2617-019211 Stacey Pencrom; Notification

      Stacey Pencrom was a health freak.

      Her morning routine never varied; she rose at seven, dressed in running gear, tied her auburn tresses into a tight pony tail, and took to running the forest trails. No holoscreen broke her morning reverie until she’d padded her little feet two miles. A wristband beeped when she reached her goal, and she reduced her pace to a slow walk. Only then, hands on her sides, would she allow herself to be encroached by the myriad of time-wasters waiting to beat down her holoscreen door.

      Holoscreen, Driven by the silver ring round her neck, the holoscreen appeared. The screen kept pace with her, hovering exactly 35 centimeters from her eyes. It didn’t jar as she walked; it floated serenely before her, a constant in a rough journey filled with tree limbs, roots and stones.

      Stacey has 1273 contacts.

      Around Stacey the forest had woken hours ago. She could hear the high chirruping of monkeys and parrots brought from Earth a hundred years ago. It hadn’t taken the species long to dominate the indigenous varieties.

      Spam Filter, She said, watching the majority of the waiting mail disappear from the semi-transparent screen. She noted a few mails from her friends on the other side of the planet, already embroiled in school activities.

      Suddenly her feet stopped, her eyes caught by one title in particular.

      MacCollies Corp.

      Stacey didn’t get corporate mail yet, she was only thirteen years old. She stared at the name for a moment, then realized there was a subject title too.

      MacCollies Corp. M.C.S.A. (Madagascar).

      Holy j-j-jumping b-beans, she stammered, then recovered, taking deep breaths. Open MacCollies.

      To her surprise, the mail was straight to the point. She screwed up her face in distrust, jokes from her friends were common, but this one held the MacCollies crest in the center of the heading, and no-one copied that. Or so she hoped.

      Stacey Hellen Pencrom, Eagle Creek, Argento Colony, Troy, Luhman 16.

      MacCollies Corporation, M.C.S.A. (Madagascar) are pleased to offer you a place in the 2617 intake. The course begins on Aug 1st, and students are expected to be settled onto campus before that time. Madagascar campus opens on July 16th for your convenience.

      The link below is your expenses for your journey by whatever means you decide to travel.

      XSGU-1662

      Please consult our web presence for your requirements on the course.

      We look forward to seeing you soon.

      M.C.S.A. (Madagascar)

      Stacey searched the rest of her mail for her friend’s chatter, but knew it was early for most them to be up and around. Disregarding her usual fitness regime, she took to her heels and ran home, arriving at her family home out of breath and sweating profusely.

      Mom! she roared, finding her mother lounging on the old sofa, watching the morning news on the large, wall-sized screen.

      Elena Pencrom twisted round to see her daughter, her eyes filled with concern. Yes? What’s got you all excited?

      Transfer MacCollies mail to house screens. Stacey said.

      Her mom turned back to her large screen, now showing Stacey’s email. Oh my God! Her hands flew to her face. Is this legitimate?

      Stacey nodded. Her eyes were filled with tears. I think so.

      It’s so short.

      Stacey climbed over the back of the sofa, and slid down beside her mother. I know, For the first time in her life, she was not reprimanded for her actions. I expected lots of contracts, places to sign, you know, just more filler.

      Can we check it out? Elena threw an arm round her daughter, holding her closer. You know, just to make sure.

      Go for it.

      Elena coughed to clear her throat. MacCollies Mail. Please confirm communication.

      She settled back in her seat, knowing that the local MacCollies Mail driver would be passing the message on. Breakfast?

      Sure!

      As the smell of fresh breakfast corn wafted through the house, they soon heard the padding of footsteps. Are you going away? The new arrival asked.

      Stacey winced at the barbed question. Her younger brother, Herbie, looked none too pleased. He stood in the doorway, a small model spaceship in one hand, rubbing his eyes with another. "I saw the news on my screen. It interrupted Captain Future."

      Elena strolled to the doorway, lifting Herbie and nuzzling his neck with her nose, a term of affection he’d liked since toddlerhood. He giggled delightedly. Yup, looks like it’ll just be you and me, Herb, old boy. Your sister’s off to Space Academy.

      Mom! Stacey bleated. It’s still to be confirmed.

      She moved closer to her daughter, knowing a group hug was required. Listen kiddo. No-one fakes a MacCollies communication. I know you’re still waiting for confirmation, but I’m treating it as fact. You’ve got a place; all that studying has been worth it, babe.

      For a moment they hugged, then the smell of charred corn broke their embrace, Herbie being dropped quickly to the floor As their mother raced to the stove. Nothing wasted! she boasted proudly. Get to the table.

      During breakfast there was only one topic of conversation, no matter how much Herbie wanted to interject the new plot-twist in the latest Captain Future episode. By the time they’d cleaned their plates, it was nearly time for school, and still none of her friends had either mentioned a letter from MacCollies, or admitted their part in a ruse.

      At nine minutes past the hour, a confirmation came from MacCollie (Luhman 16) confirming the authenticity of the communique.

      Their leaps of joy already done, Stacey walked to her bedroom and closed the door.

      It was time to tell her dad.

      Despite Guy Pencrom’s lengthy trips, they still had a strong father-daughter bond, and spending four years away at Space Academy was a long time for a thirteen year old to imagine. By the time I’m back, I’ll have been at MacCollies for a quarter of my life. She said to the screen image of her father’s face weeping tears of joy. Men from the spacecraft passed by his chair, patting his back, some making adult comments, some forcing their heads into view, congratulating her on her good fortune.

      And your future will be assured, babe. Guy said. No bumping around like your father, trying to get a new crew position every couple of months.

      Stacey nodded. I know. The reality of the situation was rolling over her like waves; no family, a classroom full of strangers, the long journey to Space Academy.

      How long will it take for me to get to Earth?

      Her father’s face turned away, and a mumbled conversation took place. Just over a month, we reckon. He said, returning her gaze.

      A month. She looked at the date on the top of the screen.

      May 26th.

      She swore inside her head. She had just over six weeks before the course started, and the trip would take a month. Okay, I gotta go, Dad. She closed the conversation quickly, switched off the holoscreen, and buried her head in her pillow.

      She had no more than two weeks with her family.

      Tears filled her eyes, then got soaked into the silk covering.

      Two weeks to say goodbye to all her friends.

      Two weeks before her life changed forever.

      Markus Skavenger; Solitude is No Comfort

      Having gotten no answer in five minutes of kicking, Markus stood stymied for a moment.

      Holoscreen on

      Nothing happened. He felt for the switch on his neckband, but it didn’t work.

      Sitting back down on the bunk, he tried to recall his parents’ teachings, their constant safety mantra, wishing he’d paid more attention, not been such a brat. With some effort he physically began to breath slower, trying to calm himself down. With a loud sigh, he realized it wasn’t easy.

      His father’s words wormed into his thoughts; When all else fails, trust in basic systems.

      My tablet!

      Markus crossed to his desk, finding the tablet under a pile of comics. The screen lit up on first try. He knew it wouldn’t supply the depth of information that he’d get from Nancy, but it was as a step forward from nothing at all. Ship status?

      Words typed onto the screen.

      Ship hull integrity lost. Main airlock compromised. No propulsion. Speed 120 km per second. Destination YZ-Ceti. Press here for more…

      So, just a bit slower than light speed, He said for his own benefit, liking the sound of his own voice in the silence. We must have dropped out of FTL when the engines went offline. Locate other personnel.

      Unable to comply.

      Why?

      Define question.

      Why can’t you scan for personnel?

      Scanning systems are off-line.

      Okay, show me all camera views.

      One by one the pictures cycled. Markus knew there were fifteen cameras on board, but nowhere did he see life of any kind; that was disconcerting. One view showed the outside airlock door open slightly.

      Crap.

      He knew if the air-lock was shot, maybe his mom and dad were in suits somewhere, maybe outside fixing stuff. Although at that speed, any extra-ship duties would be fraught with danger. Where were the kids? He said.

      Scanning systems are off-line.

      He sighed, then viewed each camera view carefully, unable to imagine any kind of scenario where they’d all be outside.

      It was time to look at the whole picture as logically as he could; one system at a time.

      Define hull breaches.

      Fifteen holes, each 0.7cm diameter.

      He knew holes that precise couldn’t be pinprick asteroids. Would that be the result of gunfire?

      Undefined at this time.

      His dream floated back to him. He’d heard gunfire, and a hand blaster makes a neat small hole.

      Damn if I’d slept through it. Damn pharmaceuticals. Define air-lock damage.

      Three holes, each 0.7cm diameter. Both air-lock doors are open.

      Markus nodded; that explained the loss of cabin pressure. Close inside door.

      Unable to comply.

      Why?

      Reason unknown.

      Damn your limitations. Markus thought about the situation; he highly doubted his mom and dad were outside. Close outside air-lock door.

      Unable to comply. It is obstructed.

      Damn. Show obstruction.

      The camera shifted position and Markus got a view of the outside door again, perhaps fifteen centimeters ajar, then it slowly panned to the obstruction. Near the floor a single boot was lodged in the gap.

      Markus gasped. The jagged edge of bone emerging from the boot was bloody and broken, obviously still attached to a foot. But not a Space Family Robinson foot, Markus said with a mixture of pride and relief. Our boots have red soles, He remembered the family trip to Ceylon, the nearest big town. How mom had wanted them all to have the same boots. The information made the next command easier to make. Open outside air-lock door.

      Safety protocol 106 ensues. Please repeat command.

      Open outside air-lock door.

      Markus watched as the panel slid smoothly open, releasing the boot into space. It lingered for a fraction of a second, then quickly drifted backwards out of sight. Close outside air-lock door.

      The door slid shut, the panel on the side turning

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