Kraken Orbital

“
Kraken
Orbital”

B
y James J Stubbs

For Dad and
For Logic

“
The Kraken Class” ©

James J Stubbs.

Copyright James Stubbs 2014

This is a work of fiction. Any similarities
to characters, events or organizations are purely coincidental.

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Chapter 1

Prologue

Part 1

I don’t even
remember hitti
ng the ground. I remember
the hyper drive cutting out and I remember the jet engines failing
as I tried to land this old crate. But I don’t remember the damn
thing hitting the surface of the planet. I suppose that’s what I
get for stealing it in the first place. But I just couldn’t work
for those jerks for another second.

I open my
eyes to be met with a belting headache.
One so bad it feels like I’ve been out on the drink last
night, and I’ve had a very good time. Shame that isn’t true. I’m
starting to wish this had all been a dream. My back hurts like I’ve
snapped every one of my vertebrae on the way to the floor and all
of my muscles are burning in pain.

I can’t even
h
ear myself think with these blaring
alarms going off either. If it hadn’t been for the sprinkler system
though I don’t think I’d have woken up at all. I’d have burned to
death instead. My face is soaking, so is my armor, and I can feel
the puddles of water rising up around me. The water is cool and
welcome though. It helps to dull the searing pain a little and it
wakes me up faster. I wish I could just lay here a while and try to
pull my head back together. But I need to get out of this burning
rig.

‘
Where are
your fire extinguisher systems?’
The
voice is alien to me.
Who said
that?
I came here alone. There was no one
on board before I took it. I checked more than a dozen times. I try
to open my mouth to talk but the numbing pain stops me dead. I
scream instead.

‘I said where are your fire extinguisher
systems?’ The voice was more desperate and demanding. I battle the
rising pain in my arm, since I can’t even open my jaw to talk, and
point vaguely at the centre console in front of me.

The bridge of
my stolen rig is pretty basic. I should have been in the pilot’s
chair when I saw the warning signs of a crash but how was I
supposed to know? The room is finished in hard black metal. I can
see the shutters down over the window
ahead. The only light swamping the place is from those
incessantly flaring red warning lights mounted to the ceiling.
There are some consoles to the left and right, but I don’t even
know what they’re for. Just dials and switches that I didn’t even
try to use.

I just point
hopefully to the one up front, mounted just before the pilot’s
chair, that has
its own hollowed out
space up front and down a little step.

I try to sit
up and take a look around for whoever my would be
savior is. My back has none of it though! I can
hear the snap even through my armor. The pain is excruciating and I
can only whimper here on the floor!

Maybe I
shouldn’t have come here. Maybe I should have thought twice before
going off the rails and stealing from my employers. I should have
listened to my Dad,
or at least to what I
thought he would have said. I should have handed my notice in like
a good boy, worked my follow up weeks too. But I wanted to stick it
to them so badly.

I can’t move
at all! I’m starting to panic
too! My
body is sweating profusely and I can feel constant shivers going up
and down my spine. At least I can feel something. That’s a relief
at least. I can roll my head too. That’s good. It takes a while for
my eyes to catch up with whatever direction my head is looking in
and my vision is still blurred beyond any kind of clarity. But at
least I can see.

The waves of
red light
swamping the room suddenly stop
and the incessant ear destroying howls of the alarm stop with it.
The main light comes back on. It’s blinding, white and clear, but
I’m glad of it. I hadn’t come all this way just to burn to death
like that!

His face
appears above my head. If I could have jumped at the sight of him,
given my current disabled state, I sure
ly
would have. He has a gas mask on and I can only just make out his
wide and bloodshot eyes behind the two glass covered holes carved
in the black face cover. The only other feature of the mask that
sticks out is the snout shaped breathing apparatus below his red
eyes.

He stares at
me without saying anything. He doesn’t even blink. He has a rifle
on him. It looks old. Really old. I study it only briefly through
my fading eyes. It looks like an
antique.
It’s a projectile cartridge weapon and there’s not even a laser
based bolt attachment welded on it to speak of. I didn’t think
anyone left in the whole galaxy used those things?

I wish I
could talk to him and ask him
what it was
but I still can’t even move my jaw. His gun isn’t the only thing
that looks old. His uniform does too. He has a disgusting brown
colored leather overall on. It is fastened around his waist by a
thick belt. His trousers are all black, baggy, and he has some kind
of orange colored emblem on his shoulder that I don’t recognize.
The leather of his apron is cracked and frayed with time worn
service.

As I slowly
come to, I figure I
’ll give talking
another shot. I manage to open my mouth this time, still laid out
on the floor in pain, with this crazed looking guy hovering
silently over me.

‘Take off
your mask.’ I demand through my veiled, croaky and shaken voice.
The man reaches down and grabs my shoulders tight. He lifts me to
my feet with ease. He must be insanely strong. It didn’t hurt me as
much as I thought it might though. I can feel a little more with
each heavy heartbeat. I can feel some strength on my feet and try
to stand on my own. I’m uneasy at first, and my odd looking savoir
makes sure I stay upright. He keeps tight hold of my shoulders. So
tight that it hurts. Nothing to how my shattered back feels
though.

‘
I’m afraid
it’s stuck on. Welded on in fact by a deadly fire that spread
through my ship.’ My
savior begins to
explain and entrusts me with my own weight. I’m amazed that I can
stand but I need to shake it off anyway. I’m just glad I’m alive
and I’m glad I’m not laid out there on the floor paralyzed with no
hope of rescue. My head is swimming, I can barely focus, and my
eyes still aren’t right. He continues:

‘So I’m afraid I can’t take it off.’

I can’t
p
ut my finger on his accent. He’s
definitely from Earth. He’s human for sure but I can’t think where
he is from. It sounded Eastern, his accent, maybe Russian or one of
the former states of the old Soviet Union. I feel sick. I must have
had one hell of a blow to the head. I probably have some
concussion. I still feel wasted. Like I have a hangover that won’t
pass.

‘
You look
terrible.’ My
savior says through his
muffling gas mask. Even through my fuzzy head I can’t resist a stab
at him.

‘Look who’s
talking pal.’ I mock him insensitively. I should probably have
thanked him. Not in my nature though. I can stand just fine now at
least. My back is still burning but I don’t think I’ve broken
anything. I think I can walk. I’m still confused though. I can’t
even remember what part of the planet I was heading for when I
crashed. It all happened so fast. One alarm started blasting, and
some warning message told me I hadn’t taken proper landing
precautions. Then another warning message saying hyper drive not
disengaged at the correct time. I wish I had listened more in the
emergency drills.

‘
Let’s get
out of here.’ My
savior tells me and puts
a firm palm back over my brittle and injured shoulder. He was kind
though. He could have left me to it.

‘Where are we?’ I manage to ask but he
doesn’t reply. He just bulldozes over my question.

‘I need your
card to access the doors.’ He demands and looks me coldly in the
eyes. He’s well spoken. I don’t know why I notice that. He hangs on
every word. Was it his accent or his tenuous grasp of the English
language? I can’t get my hand in my uniform pocket. It’s throbbing
like I just punched a wall after too much beer. I glance down to
see fresh blood pouring out of the knuckles. I must have hit it
hard on the way down. I hadn’t even noticed.

He must have
seen me try. He stuffs his hand deep into my pocket without asking
if it was ok or not. I’m not offended though. He has a more gentle
touch than some of the bosses back at work do. Those guys would
beat you across the head just for looking at them out of the wrong
eye. He brings his hand back out with my card in tow.

He has half
dragged me over to the sealed door at the back of the tiny bridge.
There isn’t even enough space to swing a cat in here. Just
th
e consoles, the Captain’s chair and the
pilot station at the front. The bridge is sealed with a massive
black blast door. There is a turning lock in the centre that
activates automatically when you hold the card up to a sensor on
the left hand side. I point to it. I can’t manage another word just
yet. Not till I get my breath back again at least. He holds the
card up and the door shunts into life. I didn’t think it was that
loud before! The turning lock starts spinning and sparks light up
the room. It must have been damaged but it eventually slides open
from the join in the middle.

The shock
hit’s me as soon as the door opens. The whole bridge has been
ejected from my rig and has landed alone in a sandy desert. The
burning light from this world’s sun hits my bloodshot and tired
eyes immediately.
It’s even amplified by
the reflection from the brightly colored virgin sand. As soon as
the insensitive light wipes over my eyes I can start to see my rig
burning in the distance. I can see the enormous five storey high
metal frame sinking tragically into the soft sand. The drilling
platform at the top is bent and snapped almost clean in half. The
drill bit itself, or the shaft that is visible, is bent too. There
go all of my plans in one sickening screen shot.

The design of
the thing
isn’t too far removed from old
oil rigs from back on Earth. It had just been mounted to an orbital
frame, had a hyper drive slammed into the bottom, and that turned
it into a makeshift space ship. The hyper drive had already sunk
below the soft dunes. The searing heat starts burning my broken
body as soon as it powers through the deep layers of my armored
uniform. I start to sweat profusely again.

‘
What is your
name?’ My accomplice asks.

‘Sam.’ I manage a short reply. ‘Sam Parker.’
I introduce myself reluctantly as I feel my dreams slip away as I
gaze longingly at my stolen rig.

‘I am Private
Kolter Gespenst.’ He announces proudly. ‘My friends all call me
Kolt. More that they
used
to.’ I pondered what he
might mean by “used to” but not for long. I can feel my
concentration going again. I can feel my eyeballs slip back into my
skull and a numbing sensation spread all over my head. I’m passing
out again.

Chapter 2

Private Kolter

I can feel
the cold compress on my forehead long before I have the strength to
open my weary eyes. I don’t want to think about it. I know when
I
do
open them that I’ll just see my rig burning and a stretch
of insurmountable desert lying in front of me. I’m not even sure I
can do it. I’m not sure I even want to try and survive. My future
was that stolen rig.

I had to
steal it. I had to. I couldn’t work for them anymore. I’m not sure
why that company gets away with what it does. I suppose the rules
of law mean little to those wr
iting them.
The bosses there were nothing more than security guards who just
keep you trapped and afraid. They sold it though. They really
did.