Dark Tidings: Volumes I & II

By Gregory Marshall Smith

Tired of ho-hum horror and science fiction stories that fail to keep your interest? Want some tales to keep you awake at night? Then try this double anthology of original science fiction and horror.

An astronaut exploring a new world faces a terrible fate... a doctor with a revolutionary cure learns how far some will go to restrict progress... scammers in Africa get their just “desserts”... a man’s attempt to get out from under a crushing debt could cost him far more than money... how well do you truly know your neighbors... read these and other tales that will keep you awake at night.

Bonus Content: This ebook includes a sixteen-chapter excerpt from Hunters, the newest novel from Gregory Marshall Smith about modern-day vampires and the humans dedicated to eradicating them once and for all.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gregory Marshall Smith
• Release date: Aug 14, 2011
• ISBN: 9781927116036

Gregory Marshall Smith

Gregory Marshall Smith, born in Somerville, Massachusetts and raised in historic Medford, is a decorated Navy veteran. In his career, he has been, among other things, a sports writer, a national columnist, playwright, engineer, asset protection agent, editor, safety auditor, fingerprinter, training instructor and sometime actor. He is the author of the novellas Crawl, The 11th Hour, Slow Boat to China and They Call the Wind Muryah, as well as the anthologies Dark Tidings: Volumes I & II. He has had numerous short stories appear in Farspace 2, Writer’s Bump, Far Side of Midnight, Mini-World, Iriyo, Yokosuka Nights, Separate Worlds and SFH Dominion, among others. Hunters is his current novel. Ever restless, he currently resides in Columbia, South Carolina.

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Dark Tidings: Volumes I & II

By Gregory Marshall Smith

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2011 Gregory Marshall Smith

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

ISBN 978-1-927116-03-6

Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

PUBLISHER’S NOTE

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Acknowledgements

I want to thank the following people:

C.J. Ellisson – For her encouragement in getting me to re-release these short stories.

Writing.com – for providing a forum where everyday people could read, critique and comment on my writing so I could improve.

Gail Smith – My mother who has always been there for me, even if she hasn’t been a big science fiction fan.

Eric Smith Sr. – My father who has always encouraged my writing.

Ryk Smith & Katrina Jarvis Smith – My older brother who allowed me to stay with him for more than two years in Stone Mountain, Georgia (far past the cold shoulder stage).

Sydney Jelinek and Shontrell Wade – Editors with Red Hot Publishing who somehow managed to make it all the way my vast prose and long list of intricate characters, especially in areas that’s not quite in their normal fields.

Lulu, Spectacular Speculations, CreateSpace, Far Side of Midnight, SFH Dominion, Writer’s Bump and all of the other online and physical publishers who carried my various works.

Dark Tidings

Volumes I & II

Table of Contents

Volume I Science Fiction

One Last Look

Debt to Society

Eugene Nix

Your Most Urgent Attention Requested

Society’s Children

Volume II Horror/Dark Fiction

Next-Door

For G.O.O.D.

Feedin’ the Fishes

Red Herring

Dark Tidings

One Last Look © 2009

Debt to Society © 2008

Eugene Nix © 2007

Your Most Urgent Attention Requested © 2009

Society’s Children © 2008

Next-Door © 2006

For G.O.O.D. © 2008

Feedin’ the Fishes © 2010

Red Herring © 2011

All rights reserved

Copyright © 2011 by Gregory Marshall Smith

Hunters

Table of Contents:

Acknowledgements

Glossary

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Dark Tidings

Volume I

Science Fiction

One Last Look

Gayorg Marsten typed his code into the keypad as fast as his thick space gloves would allow. He squinted, trying to see past the glare of the overheads in the airlock. The lights, brighter than usual, reflected off several of the panels in the chamber. The polymer glass of his faceplate made the glare worse.

Air’s getting stale, he told himself again, wrinkling his nose at the unpleasant, though faint, odor.

He checked the chronometer on his wrist pad and saw that he still had another 10 minutes before he would need to switch over to the secondary air tank he wore on his EVA suit. On any other day, he’d have changed sooner, but today he would need every last drop of air possible.

You’re hyperventilating, Gayorg. Please calm down.

That’s okay for you to say, Gayorg thought. You guys are in the ship, not stuck inside an airlock without bathroom facilities.

Gayorg shook his head to clear his thoughts. They were right. If he didn’t keep himself under control, he surely would lose it long before any help could be found.

Sorry about that, Control, he said into his headset radio. Just getting a little antsy, that’s all.

Understandable, the voice on the radio replied after an uncomfortably long time lag. Just focus on something positive, like being rescued.

Any word on when the nearest ship will be here? he asked for the umpteenth time. It’s kind of lonely out here.

That’s it, Gayorg. Keep up the humor.

He glanced up at the overhead lights and then punched a button on his wrist pad. The lights dimmed. He wouldn’t need them so bright now. He was alone in the airlock and it didn’t look like he’d be getting into the ship anytime soon. The bright lights would only make the air inside the lock hotter, which would in turn make him hotter inside his EVA suit.

He tried to think of something other than the fact that he’d been locked out of the ship, 1100 miles above the recently discovered planet of Yadrin. Nearly forty million light-years from Earth, he faced a situation he’d glossed over in the NASA lectures – contamination.

He was an engineer. He spent most of his time in the engine room of the Caliber, a long-range exploratory vessel. He had been stuck on the Caliber since it had made planet-fall. . Everyone connected with the ship’s scientific mission had spent at least three days aboard the specially-designed science module as it conducted low orbit tests on Yadrin’s atmosphere. The module had been designed to separate from the main vessel and enter gravity-laden atmospheres. Now, today, Gayorg had finally gotten his chance to glimpse Yadrin’s lower atmosphere.

Could that have been it, Gayorg wondered. Had a few lousy hours inside the orbital module caused all of this? He’d only been allowed aboard as a courtesy because the excluded crewmembers had protested being left out. Even when the head scientists had acquiesced, Gayorg had been the last one selected.

Of course, he didn’t have what the others had – an inside edge. He wasn’t engaged to any of the scientists or seeing them on the side or married to any of them. In fact, he was a last-minute replacement for an engineer who had come down with a rare form of space sickness and the rest of the crew hadn’t let him forget it.

Sorry about the long wait, Gayorg, a voice on his radio said, bringing him back to the present. It’s just that…well, we’ve had a lot to think about.

Gayorg recognized the voice as Capt. Elamin Goto, the commanding officer whom he had had only met twice. Most communication between engineering and the bridge involved Commander Jennifer Saito, who then passed the information along.

I…I can only imagine, Captain, Gayorg finally replied, trying to keep his throat clear. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, too, sir.

Let’s forgo the ‘sir’ thing, Gayorg, Goto said, his voice cracking. My friends call me El.

Uhm, yes, sir—eh, I mean…El, a bewildered Gayorg stammered.

Was it always this way, Gayorg wondered? Did they always try to seem friendlier when they knew the end was near? It seemed like small comfort. What use was there in getting a little friendlier if there was no time to benefit from it? Still, it was a nice gesture, probably the best they could do for him now.

Gayorg, I’m going to put Doctor Kamen on, Goto said.

Gayorg, this is Doctor Kamen.

Gayorg had seen Dr. Krista Kamen many times during the voyage, but only a handful of times when she was awake. Most of the scientists had been kept in suspended animation for the yearlong trip to Yadrin, to conserve food and water supplies. The engineers had monitored the sleeping chambers. Gayorg had spent many days checking on Dr. Kamen, Commander Saito and the other women, simply because they were a lot more pleasant to look at.

I’m not sure how I can phrase this, Gayorg, Dr. Kamen said, slowly.

We’re all adults here, Doctor, Gayorg replied, bravely. Just give it to me straight. What are we looking at here?

It’s a Level Ten infection, the doctor answered, her voice filled with remorse and sadness. It apparently hibernated for a bit, just long enough to escape detection by our air filter monitors. Infection through the body has been determined to be total.

Damn, Gayorg muttered, wanting to throw up.

Level Ten was the highest level of infection. Some type of virus or bacteria had beaten the monitors. Gayorg had worried over this sort of development for the entire trip because he knew the monitors – for the ship, for the orbital module and for the EVA suits – had only been programmed for known viruses and bacteria. No one could have really known or guessed what might have existed outside of the Milky Way.

But, that’s what he had signed on for. He’d wanted to see the stars, but not just the ones that everyone else had seen since first grade. He wanted to be on the cutting edge of exploration. He didn’t have the grades to be an astrophysicist, but he knew the ships needed engineers.

His body felt like it wanted to shake uncontrollably and it took all of his strength to suppress this sudden urge to panic. Going to pieces would gain him nothing. After all, NASA instructors had spent almost a week preparing future space pioneers for just such a scenario. Still, there was a huge difference between computer-simulated scenarios and the real thing. In simulations, one could always hit stop to end the scenario and everyone would be alive and well, laughing and joking.

Please calm down, Gayorg, Dr. Kamen said, firmly. My instruments show elevated readings on all vitals. You’re not going to help yourself by panicking. Remember your training.

I…it’s just that…jeez, Doc, Level Ten…I…I…I’m sorry, Doc…I’m much better now. Thank you for your concern.

He tried to imagine what the others on the ship were thinking now. They’d signed on to search for new forms of life; however, he was sure they wanted that new form of life to be something other than a deadly microbe. Biological contamination was the nightmare of every spacefarer.

Gayorg knew that Marisa Soto must have been going nuts right about now. She had the odd combination of being a scientist and a germophobe. She scrubbed with antibacterial soap three times a day. She’d been his partner when they’d left the ship three hours earlier for the extravehicular space walk to repair a solar panel that charged her laboratory. He could only imagine her reaction to news of the discovery of the infectious virus.

Any chance of the computer finding a cure? he asked into his radio. Might as well make productive use of our time until another ship gets here.

Oh, believe me, we are trying, Dr. Kamen replied, her voice sounding uncharacteristically anxious. But, at the same time, we need to face facts. We…we have to take certain precautions, Gayorg.

Gayorg knew what the doctor was talking about. As an engineer, he serviced the machines used to cleanse infections, so he knew there was one and only one way to cleanse a Level Ten infection – complete eradication.

That thought made him sigh long and heavily. It was true that he hadn’t known the crew very long, but they had been shipmates. They’d had a camaraderie that had kept the ship running smoothly. Each man and woman aboard had a different personality that contributed to the uniqueness of the crew. It was why he took offense when the crews of other ships badmouthed Caliber.

I-I know, he sputtered, his mouth suddenly dry.

Gayorg, this is Commander Saito, a new voice said into his radio. We’ve raised Hancock on the radio. She’ll be here in less than an hour.

Good old Saito, Gayorg mused. She was the chief engineer and was always professional. Captain Goto may have offered to let Gayorg call him El but Saito would never do that. Gayorg respected that she would maintain her professionalism in such a situation.

For what it’s worth, Gayorg, Saito said. You’ve been a good engineer. And…and…you’ve been a good shipmate.

Wow, Gayorg thought, stunned. It must have cost her a lot to say that. He felt a tear running down his cheek and unconsciously tried to wipe it away with a gloved hand. Just then, his chronometer beeped and he knew he needed to change out air tanks.

Cursing silently, he began the arduous process of unhooking the straps for the air tanks. There were many days he couldn’t believe mankind had penetrated so far into deep space, yet, saddled itself with technology reminiscent of the 20th century. He unclipped the staying pins and then clumsily pulled the tanks loose.

He set the empties on the floor of the airlock and picked up the fresh ones. Carefully, he began inserting the tanks into their slots on his EVA suit, trying to make certain he got the nozzles into the intake holes. He only had five minutes to complete the maneuver before the reserve air stored in a small cylinder on his waist pack ran out.

He replaced the stay pins and then tightened the straps again. Moments later, a light on his wrist pad turned green and he felt cool air stream into his helmet. He breathed deeply – he never realized just how sweet a breath of fresh air could be. He then refilled his reserve cylinder before turning it off.

Sorry about that, ma’am, he said. Had to change air tanks. Hello? Commander?

She had to go, Gayorg, the voice of Alexander Wooten stated. How you doing, buddy?

Gayorg grinned a little. Wooten was the chief cook. He was friendly to Gayorg; but then again, he was friendly to most of the crew, despite the constant complaints about the food. He had a thick skin and was always quick with witticisms and advice for certain new guys.

Air’s fresh anyway, Gayorg replied. Wish I had some of your cooking out here. Standing around in airlocks can make a man hungry, you know.

Yeah, I know, Wooten answered. Especially FNG’s.

Gayorg shook his head and suppressed the urge to laugh. FNG meant, freakin’ new guy. Well, actually the F stood for something a little harsher but Wooten always substituted the milder curse, which still seemed strange to Gayorg seeing as how Wooten was the son of a Marine general.

Look, Gayorg, Wooten said. I…I want you to do something, okay? The computer can download final thoughts. Yeah, I know it sounds morbid but the captain’s going to mention it in a moment and I didn’t want you to be blindsided. Just be ready, buddy. And…and…well, you know.

Suddenly, Gayorg didn’t feel like grinning anymore. Every crewmember was required to record goodbyes and prayers to be downloaded and sent home to Earth in the event of death. It made things easier for loved ones back home, but was hard as hell on the nerves of even the strongest person to have to record such a thing. Gayorg had needed nine hours and forty-one tries to record his thoughts on the trip to Yadrin. The captain did allow extra time for final thoughts (which had helped greatly in this matter) before transferring the file to the nearest ship or space station that could get a message back to Earth.

He sighed again and checked his chronometer. It wouldn’t be much longer before Hancock arrived. Then he’d have to do what he had to, but didn’t want to – take one last look. He couldn’t, no, he didn’t want to imagine what the rest of the crew would be doing in those final moments. He hoped they would not be looking at him through the monitors and portholes. He didn’t know if he could stand the longing looks, the thought of them crying.

It wasn’t that he was afraid of death. He had just imagined it happening differently, much faster. He’d always wanted to die quickly, not linger in some hospital bed, knowing that death was getting closer. His father had jokingly referred to his fear as the taxman cometh.

Gayorg, this is the captain, Goto blurted, bringing Gayorg back to the present. Download of final thoughts to Hancock is complete. She’s here. It’s…it’s time.

Gayorg gasped as he looked at his chronometer. My God, he thought, time has flown by. He quickly hooked his wrist pad and tried to access the computer again. Surely there had to be one last attempt by the computer to find a way around the contamination. Alas, the computer had no answer except for the already established protocols for Level Ten contamination – complete disintegration.

He closed his eyes and tried to think happier thoughts, but couldn’t. Caliber was a science vessel and had no armament. Hancock was a rescue ship. She carried laser cannon capable of destroying asteroids and meteors. In fact, if she diverted half her available power to her cannons, she could destroy a space freighter, the largest ship in NASA’s deep space fleet. Obviously, nothing approaching that level would be needed here.

I guess this is goodbye then, he said, slowly. I never thought it would end like this. I guess I’ll just take…

Caliber, this is Hancock, ready for procedure, a deep voice interrupted. Please have subject open outer airlock doors and activate EVA suit jets.

Hancock, this is ‘subject’ and I can hear you, Gayorg snapped, more than a little miffed at the interruption at such a delicate moment. I am opening the outer airlock doors. I am now activating my rockets.

Gayorg had made his decision. He really had no choice. If he hadn’t fired his rockets, Captain Goto would have ejected the entire airlock. Still, it was a measure of how well he had come to terms with his situation that he didn’t panic, bawl or suddenly suffer a streak of yellow down his spine.

We have you on monitor, Mr. Marsten, reported the deep voice from Hancock. You are clear of Caliber. Please accept my apology at being so inconsiderate of the situation. Is there anything we can do for you?

I…eh, thank you, Gayorg blustered. Can you give me one last look at her?

Yes, sir, came the reply. We can do that for you, sir.

Thank you.

Gayorg had always hated free-floating. He’d never liked jetting around space with small rocket packs instead of being attached to the ship with tether lines. One slight mishap with a rocket pack meant slow death as one spun wildly away from the ship, something unlikely for a man or woman tethered to the mother ship.

Now, however, as he floated freely away, the rockets keeping him from tumbling, he couldn’t help but feel at peace. He knew he’d finally come to terms with what was about to happen. Maybe it was because he knew what was about to happen. Maybe it was some sort of genetic code that allowed a feeling of tranquility at such moments. Whatever it was, it made the final moments pass peacefully.

He looked down and saw Caliber sitting in orbit around Yadrin. God, she’s beautiful, he thought unabashedly. He watched the ship’s sleek outlines fill the curved view of his helmet visor. Much longer than Hancock by at least three hundred feet, she was 796 feet high at her most elevated position, atop the radio tower. Three powerful engines could thrust her forward at one-tenth of the speed of light in an emergency, though those same thrusters now lay silent.

A crew of one hundred-thirty kept her in tip-top condition. He looked to his left and tried to peer into the red haze of Yadrin. He was too far away to see the empty orbital module that floated in low orbit. He wanted to spend at least a few more minutes inside her, to experience the feeling of being so close to another planet, but he knew it was impossible. Caliber had pulled out of orbit right after discovery of the contamination, per NASA protocols.

Captain Goto, Commander Saito, this is Gayorg Marsten, successfully detached from Caliber, Gayorg reported, his voice on the verge of breaking. Godspeed to all of you.

An alarm went off inside his helmet and he glanced down at his wrist pad. There was a fantastic energy source behind him and he knew it was the rescue ship’s cannon. Figures, he muttered to himself. To save him the dread of knowing the end was about to come, the rescue ship was going to fire before he finished his last look.

So be it.

A massive beam of energy filled his visor and he closed his eyes. Pleasant memories of happier times with the crew filled his mind. Jokes, conversations, arguments, even getting dressed down a time or two by Saito, these all played out in his mind.

This is Hancock. It’s done.

Gayorg opened his eyes and sighed heavily. Caliber was nothing but a million shards of flaming debris that would eventually get caught up in the gravitational pull of Yadrin. No piece would be big enough to survive the intense friction of uncontrolled entry into the atmosphere.

If only, he thought. If. If. If. What was the saying? If ‘ifs’ and ‘buts’ were candy and nuts….

If the scientists hadn’t compromised the security of the orbital module by collecting dust from Yadrin’s atmosphere without the proper equipment…

If the crew hadn’t become lax and had done the required full scan of the science module before it returned aboard…

If Dr. Kamen and her staff had activated isolation procedures when the first crewmembers exhibited strange symptoms instead of treating the illness like the common cold…

If Marisa Soto hadn’t been so in love with one of the sick men that she abandoned Marsten on the EVA walk to go back inside the ship to check on him…

…then maybe they’d all be alive right now, enjoying one of Wooten’s fantastic meals.

But, there would be no more moments for the crew of Caliber. They’d slipped up and contaminated the entire ship with a Level Ten infection. Earth science had yet to come up with procedures to stop it. Thus, the only way to prevent spread of the infection was complete destruction of the infected subjects, be they individuals or entire ships.

Mr. Marsten, this is Hancock, the deep voice said into his radio. Caliber reported that because you were outside of the ship when the infection came aboard that you weren’t infected. Computer tests confirm it, but regulations require us to isolate you in a reserve airlock until our own computers and doctors can clear you sir. I can’t imagine how much you’ve been through today, so I offer my sincerest condolences and my apology at having to quarantine you again.

Gayorg barely heard any of the man’s words.

Acknowledged, Hancock, he answered, his voice choking up. I’ll be here. With my memories.

Debt to Society

"All rise. The Honorable Melvin Roy presiding."

You may be seated. Good morning, Joseph, how is my favorite bailiff today? Looks like it’s gonna' be a tough one today. Okay, what’s first on the docket?

First up on the docket, Your Honor, People versus Catherine Steelo, Mandel Oceanographic Institute, Andelbay Resorts and Amex Corporation. Depraved indifference, twelve counts.

Twelve counts, Joseph? Really? Okay, who’s here for the People? Miss Imesworth, is it, our newest assistant district attorney? And Mr. Ainsley, for the defense?

Your honor, the people request a high bail.

Ah, you picked up that tactic a lot quicker than your predecessor, Miss Imesworth.

Objection, your Honor. My clients are upstanding pillars of the community. Miss Steelo is one of the world’s most renowned marine biologists and works for the prestigious Mandel Oceanographic Institute. Andelbay Resorts has a first-class reputation and Amex is a Fortune 500 company. We request a release on personal recognizance.

So noted, Mr. Ainsley. I take it you have some objections, Miss Imesworth.

Your honor, the defendants are charged with twelve counts of depraved indifference. They are culpable in the deaths of seven people and the maiming of five more.

Whoa, those are some serious allegations, Miss Imesworth. What exactly are they alleged to have done?

They forgot to tell beach-goers about the supposedly extinct Megalodon that had set up camp in the area.

What, pray tell, is a Megalodon, Miss Imesworth?

"Ancestor to the Great White Shark, your Honor. It’s about seventy-five feet long. They knew it was in the area, but still sent a yacht full of investors out into the middle of its feeding ground. Miss Steelo and Mandel wanted the publicity of being the first to find a Megalodon. Andelbay and Amex were in the midst