This is Interlude.
Interlude is set in an alternate universe- Asimov's universe, the Foundation universe.
Asimov was one of the greatest ge-ni-ouses of the 1950's in the realm of science fiction. He's the brains behind more than three hundred stories, including the I, Robot series and the Foundation series. Interlude is based on the nuances of the latter.
Foundation is an epic that describes the creating of a scientific foundation in a Galaxy of barbarism. The details of the plot don't really pertain to Interlude, so it doesn't really matter if you haven't read it- in fact, it might be a little more fun.
There are a couple important things to keep in mind while reading Interlude.
Namely, think of Foundation like the first Star Trek. It was written in 1951- before space travel was possible. This was the height of the Final Frontier, when spacemen lived on the gentle lands of Mars and the entire Galaxy wasn't impossibly far away. Planets had oxygen that humans could breathe, food they could metabolize, water they could drink and weren't unbearably hot or cold.
It's too bad that things aren't that way, but then again Kanthia's here to give a story, not a science lesson.
So please buckle yourselves in and get ready for the ride of your lives- Kanthia believes we're about to make the first Jump into hyperspace--
.Interlude
/they talk about Space like it's empty. They don't know half of it.
Chapter 1: Interception
x x x
The alarm had only recently started ringing, and Captain Klev Randu was all ready annoyed by it.
Not that normal, everyday annoyances failed to irk him. He'd joined the Galactic Marine Force at the virile age of twenty-six and not one of those eight years of justice was without irritation, frustrating circumstances and useless interludes.
His reputation was beginning to precede him. Space pirates, swarming all through the Galaxy, feared the White Hunter and he only could guess where the ridiculous name came from. Most likely the twin cigars that constantly hung out of his lips- to everyone but his closest crew, his parents had named their strange, stone-white haired child 'Smoker' as if the name was a dramatic foretelling of things to come.
All useless things aside.
This was the galactic Age of Pirates, and none would doubt that. Ever since that damned old man Roger had followed the perilous spiral arm of the constantly shifting Galaxy all the way to the fabled planet Origin and left there all the stolen goods hundreds of planets had to offer- well, things had changed. Every fool with the two hundred credits to buy a junkheap of a ship with hyperdrive thought he'd buy into the mounting chaos.
And in the midst of all the chaos, the Space Marines- old bastards seated on the central planet Trantor leading young idiots who thought they could change something in between bribes. Smoker never turned a blind eye to anything. He was here to serve justice, not one-credit coins and damn everyone in the Galaxy if he'd let anyone get in his way.
But enough of things that bothered Captain Klev 'Smoker' Randu, of which there were many. One of which was the alarm, still beeping in the horrendously annoying mechanical female voice:
"Unknown ship in sight! Instruction required! Unknown ship in sight! Instruction required! Unknown sh—"
Smoker's face was red as he half-slammed a stony fist into the red panel that would silence the alarm (which was jokingly referred to by his crew as the snooze button) and then turned to the speaker beside it; in a similar fashion he opened the contact.
"TASHIGI!"
Several seconds too long later, his sergeant major stumbled in. Perhaps 'stumble' was too light of a word- she had tripped over the raised floor underneath the sliding airlock between rooms. Pushing those ridiculous glasses up the bridge of her nose (still stubbornly refusing to get her eyes corrected by laser- yet anything that irked those bastards in the Grand Base was fine with him), she aligned the holster of her long-barreled atomic blaster and attempted to use her free hand to drag up the last semblance of a formal salute. His almost-grin came out as a grunt of recognition. For someone so clumsy, her aim with the long barrel was quite legendary.
"—Captain Smoker!" She followed his impatient gaze to the alarm, now beginning to sound again. "We were about to make the Jump through hyperspace to the next system- East Quadrant co-ordinates Alpha-three Beta two six four point---"
He grunted a second time, a small bit more menacing.
"—And Horleggor finished computing, but we ran into an unknown craft."
"An unknown craft?" The whole encounter stank of one thing: pirates.
"Unknown, but not
pirates. It's barely large enough for a single person, space for
food and fuel aside."
"Have you scanned it?"
"Well- Joram said he was on his mid-shift meal break-"
There was a redness growing at the back of Smoker's neck as he opened a second contact beside the speaker. His orders were barked, not asked.
"Joram! Get your ass down to dock two, and I don't care if you just opened an insta-steak. Take out a lifeboat- the seven-two-seven, and don't you dare show your face again until I have a full probe scan of the ship. Entering it is strictly forbidden. Bring Sutt with you, I want the ship brought in to dock if there's no sign of life, but if there is- you do not touch it; send me a report and wait for further orders. Everyone else is on double full stations for the next two hours, and full stations for eight hours after that. Is there anyone who does not understand?"
There was a sharp reply coming from the twenty-five men and two women in his crew, not counting Tashigi.
"And Joram- after you finish, you are to return to your quarters and remain there for the rest of the week. Your duties are relieved of you for that same period. Do you understand?"
Again, the reply, only this time from a single man. It was enthusiastic enough but with the subtle dropping of shoulders. Smoker closed the contact and collapsed into a rather rigid couch, lighting up two more cigars from plain irritation.
"A whole week?" Tashigi still stood in the formal way that bothered him to no end, until he motioned to the chair beside him. "That's rather harsh, especially after two weeks of no action."
There was a haze of dangerous grey appearing above Smoker; the air filtration system whined with the extra load. His ship was infamous for having it replaced on a monthly basis. "I'll have obedience in the face of death, or it's worthless. Obedience in ideal circumstances is nothing."
"I'll go oversee the scanning, Captain Smoker."
He managed a nod as she upset the chair and stumbled out of the room.
Space! He wasn't one to use the old curse, but it seemed appropriate. He didn't have time for distractions like this- they were expected to be on the capital planet of the Logue system in two days, but with the way things were progressing they would most likely be delayed a day or so in the useless task of retrieval, scanning, tagging and ejecting. It didn't take gamma ray eyes to be certain there were no live men on that ship- according to Tashigi's primary inspection; it was too small to be comfortable. If a person was rich enough to be out in space in the first place, they usually attempted to make their quarters as comfortable as possible. And a space pirate ship would have a crew much larger than one pathetic life.
He got up, stretching his arms in the kind of fashion that projected his unease. A ship that made no sense was dangerous. At least when you faced pirates in their blast-marked piles of shitty repairs you knew what you were up against- and that was not much. But now he could be facing anything from a remnant of the old practice of ejecting trash into space to a remnant of the even older practice of ejecting coffins into space.
Pushing a rather homely button set in the polished white wall of the bridge, the huge blinds which shaded the glass dome in the front of the ship slid noiselessly open, revealing the writhing emptiness of space outside. He'd wanted to be a Marine since he saw that old man executed on his home planet. That was back when he had lofty dreams of great space battles with laser cannons and atomic blasters- he got a fair share of explosions, truthfully, but those were short and afterwards came the trying hours of paperwork to fill and forms to sign and the job of taking the pirates to the nearest base, which could be light-years away. The nine trillion kilometers of one year could be covered easily within one Jump, but still—
He turned to his left, the panoramic view from the bridge allowing him to take in the dim glare of the star nearest to them. Rather, it was a sun; since before time began and anyone could remember, solar systems with inhabited planets had suns and those without population had stars.
Just beyond the corner of his eye, it became visible when he turned. It was the ship Tashigi had spoken of. Sided up to it was the seven-two-seven, a model probably twenty years old but still almost completely functional (the air filtration had kicked out years ago).
It was too small to be anything of consequence, this heap of space junk. Vaguely coffin-shaped, it didn't resemble anything he had learned about in the Academy. There were two large tanks on either side of the main part- presumably for oxygen tanks, with nuclear rockets for interplanetary travel fixed on their backs- and what could have almost been a hyperdrive on the back. A simple atomic shield but no blasters in the belly. It could have been a merchant ship if it was bigger and had room for food and hydrogen-oxygen water.
A fear implanted itself in the back of his mind and started to grow, little by little. This ship could never accommodate a live human for more than three days. Either they had a dead body in an ancient space-coffin on their hands which would erase the need for air tanks, or a non-human species had gained enough intelligence to acquire space-travel. There were many unchecked places in the Galaxy these days, for the stars were as numerous as the people that inhabited them. Space travel meant atomics. If they weren't careful with this ship, the catalyst for some immense interstellar war may be hanging over their heads.
And there is nothing that shitty pirates like more than the mass chaos of a war.
"Captain Smoker." Tashigi's voice, slightly mechanical, came over the inter-com. "We've completed a scan of the craft. Would you like to have the data given to Ross?"
"Send it here first," said Smoker, who had a little aptitude in comprehending the mess of details given by their two-year-old scanner. "Until further orders, you are to stay sided, but do not board the ship or attempt to do anything to it. If it attempts to break free, you are to let it go and you will not follow it. Do I make myself clear?"
"Understood, Captain Smoker."
As the data began downloading the screen above the various interplanetary navigational tools, Smoker grunted quietly and stepped over to it. Best to prepare himself for the worst. There was very little chance of a race getting atomics so fast, unless it was stolen from humans, easily bribed with money or their own lives-
Download complete, the computer said in what seemed to be a bored tone.
Outer scan revealed what Smoker had discovered; nothing ordinary, but nothing out of the ordinary. Solid steel hull with a simple shield; certainly perhaps a half-century old. That was a good sign. He impatiently scrolled through the rest of the obvious details concerning the structure of the ship until the computer brought forth whatever lovely present it contained.
He translated the nonsense numbers and letters as they scrolled; his heart began to speed up. The ship was full of machinery that the scanner could hardly identify. Either it was broken or whatever was on that ship wasn't human. Here they were with another waste of time on their hands, a big annoyance, a distraction-
Craft contains carbon-based life-forms.
Well, that could mean anything. It could be food. Some goddamned person sending goddamned apples into space. On an empty ship. With oxygen to make sure their shitty apples rotted as fast as they could.
His eyes shifting back and forth over the white text on the blue screen, the symbols appearing in front of him barely making sense now; he could have prayed to the Galactic Spirit if he believed in anything. At the very end of the scan the letters and numbers coagulated into something absolutely ridiculous.
Life-form is not animate.
Life-form is not deceased.
x x x
A full two minutes later, Tashigi's voice came back over the intercom.
"C-captain Smoker? Your orders?"
The Galaxy be damned, they needed a new scanner. Until then he'd risk the ridiculous idea of interstellar war on this shitty little craft. The reading from the scanner assured that nobody in the crew, once the data was out, would want to sleep when the sleep-period was issued without first finding out what was in there.
Smoker, beet red, answered with a tone that was almost intimidating. "Give the data to Ross in Decoding. You, Joram and Sutt are to attach the ship and dock it- after that, you are to wait until I arrive, except for Joram whom I hope understands where he is to head afterward. And do not do anything to that ship once it's docked."
"Yes, Captain." The line of communication fell.
He rose quickly, with purpose and more than slightly agitated. Docking would take close to half an hour and there were things to be done before then- people to talk to, data to go through, calls from the headquarters to ignore. And their little alien in there would have to wait through it, damn him and all of his species-
Smoker was a rational man. There couldn't be an alien in there- all species that had the chance of becoming sentient and intelligent had been eliminated in the dark and confusing Black Ages; eight hundred years completely missing from the texts that detailed mankind's final leap from their home world when its location was (for reasons unknown) forgotten. Hyperdrive opened up the entire Galaxy. Planets were conquered and humans took their place in some shitty destiny someone had invented of controlling every star they could see.
Ten thousand years later, they had this mess.
x x x
He'd taken the liberty of changing uniforms before heading down to the dock. The old men at the scattered bases across the Galaxy always complained that he wasn't setting a good example as far as hygiene (whatever that meant out here in Space) went. All that clothing really was out here was a way to keep the thermoheaters down a couple of extra degrees, saving precious uranium for fuel especially now in these days where pirates controlled too goddamn many of the trade routes.
Generally, Smoker wore the standard-issue jumpsuits legendary for how nobody could possibly look good in them. His crew had the added insult of being in the White Division; all though Smoker had to admit the men in Purple were not exactly the most well-dressed. He rubbed his bare chest absentmindedly with a gloved hand before pulling the zipper up the front. Over it he draped his fur-lined jacked, well-decorated with both spare cigars and medals for feats he barely remembered.
With ease borne of usage, he casually lit one up (a cigar, not a medal, mind you).
Nervously standing before him was Tashigi with Sutt at her heals, flanked by the three men who oversaw docking and linking and who certainly weren't used to Smoker entering rooms in a state of half undress. Behind them was the coffin-ship housing their little green friend.
Tashigi was saying something that he wasn't paying attention to about the specific properties concerning the make of the craft. "—Iron, iron and what we believe to be combustion engines."
"Combustion engines?"
Tashigi pushed her glasses up higher, the slight amount of worry in her captain's voice putting her on edge. "C-combustion. Pollak remembered it from one of his Ancient Mythology lessons-"
"Pollak?"
The Linking specialist stepped forward and spoke with a heavy Kyllian accent. "M'tholgy, cap'tin. Stories, they say men used ta use sum s'range c'mbushtin 'nstead of here uran'um."
"Well, shit," said Smoker in the kind of bored tone that lets the freshies know that nobody cares about language on his ship, "Our little green friend has crap thrusters from the Galactic Spirit. Just tell me how to open it up."
Smoker was disliked amongst his superiors for constantly dirtying his hands. Tashigi nodded towards the second Docking expert, Morrow. "The latches appear to be very simple pneumatic locks, um, sir. If you'd just apply pressure right there-"
It was too late, as Smoker's half-forgotten technical background and curiosity all ready had the coffin clicking open. It had to be a coffin; what with its shape and the fact that it only opened from the outside. He couldn't remember any History class (of those he had attended) talking of space burials, but if there was one thing Smoker believed in it was that real life was much more real than whatever shit somebody made up.
There was a long and shared intake of oxygen as the ship slowly opened, hissing with the contraction of levers long unused-
-And revealed, lying on his back and seemingly dead, a rather handsome and almost completely naked young man.