The Rackon

By Justin Fraser

A collection of six dark-humored, science-fiction/horror stories. The Rackon is a salvage ship for hire, owned by the strange and possibly mad Milk Muffin, and maintained by the cybernetically enhanced Colace. Country Kitchen joins the crew to test her abilities as a navigator, but the road ahead is marred by Other Things that seep in from the shadowy corners of space. Deadly technologies dance at the edge of mankind's knowledge. Fear-eating space dragons drift through the cosmos. Psychic parasites leech away at Country's inner child. The Rackon is a magnet for ancient terrors that have crossed the barriers of eternity, and Country and Colace face their biggest challenge in trying to keep their captain sane. Will ghosts of the past come back to haunt them?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Justin Fraser
• Release date: Jan 24, 2018
• ISBN: 9781370163397

Justin Fraser

Writer of short stories and full-length novels, some here and some elsewhere. Lifetime martial artist. Game and anime lover. Reader of many ancient tomes. Fan of sci-fi, fantasy, mystery, and horror novels. Loves writing action scenes. Draws and animates things, but very poorly. Draws most of his own covers like a buffoon. Terrifying enemy. Eats good foods.RREDIT

Book preview

The Rackon

By Justin Fraser

Copyright 2017

Smashwords Edition

Find more fun stories at:

https://www.muppybooks.com/

Table of Contents

Morellius Capsizing

Country on the Rocks

In the Clutches of Mami

The Climb

Contact Mankind

My Secret Demon

Dedicated to that forgotten thing

in the fridge - rediscovered,

still fresh, and intensely desired.

Morellius Capsizing

Country Kitchen. From Starlot Forwarding. Pleasure to be working with you.

I extended my hand to the tall woman, an absolutely beautiful woman, her skin the color of almonds and blue eyes shining like diamonds. She met the gesture with a strong grip, and I winced a little while holding my smile.

Four. she said.

I tilted my head. I'm a slightly nervous person, and when I say this woman was tall I really mean in relative terms. I'm modestly short, and I've always felt intimidated by the behemoths that constitute the rest of our fair race. Also, this was my first job since graduating from Caldier Academy. I was visibly shuddering from an inability to handle this first challenge.

Four what? I asked, insecurity causing a tremor in my syllables.

"Not 'four'. For. You work for me."

I smiled, awkwardly. Did she mean that? Was the captain greeting me personally? She laughed and said, You also get to work with me. And it'll be a pleasure. I'm Milk Muffin. I'm the captain of the Rackon. She must've noticed the skepticism in my stare. Really, I am. So you graduated from Caldier? They've only had five graduates in the past seven years. I'm impressed.

I was two of those graduates, I bragged. It was true; simultaneous accreditation in navigation and piloting. Top of my class.

Bragging was the right move. The captain said, You could be making a fortune elsewhere. I'll have to see about paying you more, if you turn out to be as good as your certificates.

Milk escorted me up the ramp of the Rackon. The ship was about the size of a three story building, lengthy like a battleship, but not very wide. I recognized the type instantly. Despite the hideous colors (it seemed the captain was partial to a girlish pink emblazoned with deep crimson) I was elated to be joining the crew of a Tarsus IV. However, I cringed at the numerous modifications made to the ship. Probably this was the first time in my life that I considered going to my father to have him cut a check, so I could buy the poor thing and restore it properly. I wanted to caress the exterior hull, whispering reassurances: You poor baby. We'll fix you up right. Don't you worry. A Tarsus IV was a...was a classic! You couldn't just go making it better. Judging from the hull modifications, the changes were significant and expensive, but that didn't make it right.

Buying the ship wasn't tenable. It wasn't even nine-able. The whole point of the last few years was to earn my own way. My father would have settled for me inheriting the business and living a comfortable life as one of the richest women in the galaxy. Unfortunately, I suffered from acute curiosity. I attended several academies besides Caldier, where I aced the piloting and navigation courses. At Atlantis Academy, I learned intergalactic cartography. My technical background came from Koolien, a university on the melnan homeworld of Latz. That qualified me as a competent engineer, and I stayed an extra year to study stretch field science and work as a lab assistant. Further, I wasn't just taking this job for the pay. Academies were great for a curious mind, but nobody even understood where the stretch fields came from. The answer was somewhere outside the classrooms. The empty space that man and melnan traversed by grace of this mysterious technology held the answer. If I could discover and harness that, I might be worthy of inheriting Navipar Co. from my father.

The Rackon was, modifications aside, the perfect ticket to the stars. A medium-sized salvage ship, it boasted two command bridges, three vertically-aligned decks, and an open-atmosphere deck outside. The Tarsus line were infamously rugged ships meant for mid-range crews and deep-space exploration. What they sacrificed in speed rebounded six-fold in shielding power and maneuverability. The Tarsus IV specialized in gravitational ionization and easily crossed stretch field snappings with its fishlike shape.

Aboard the ship, the sense of lifelessness was staggering. An electric hum could be heard in the walls as we passed the medical bay. Several shower rooms lined the rest of that hall. They seemed mostly unused. We passed no one, which did not surprise me. There would be an engine room and systems room somewhere on the lower floor, and everyone there would be busy.

We rounded a corner and took an elevator to the second deck. Here, the lights were much dimmer. The captain said she liked her eyes to stay adjusted to low starlight, and I had no objections since I was used to laboring over terminals in dark rooms. A lounge fitted with a single dining table and several padded seating arrangements looked like it could house a hundred people on its own. I noted a full kitchen through a service window, and was happy to see almost eight coffee dispensing machines, including a Beancrusher 6 Aromabot, which dispensed disposable cups with freshly ground coffee. That meant that we had access to actual beans!

Ah, the joys of terrestrial life! That's why big ships were better. A seven person crew aboard a starleaper like the Culdaskin II held all the excitement of cramming everyone into a locker room – not just to change, but to eat, sleep, and work.

Real coffee...yet I saw no traces of visitors. These were either the cleanest shipmates in the universe, or Milk Muffin was completely intolerant of messy rooms. An eerie sensation, like a creeping child with sticky hands that wanted a hug, began reaching for the alarm switch in my head. Even the hum of the automated cleaning and maintenance machines seemed hushed, as if embarrassed at themselves for interrupting the silence.

Your position will be Head Navigator. Sorry. It doesn't mean much if you're the only navigator, but it's nice to have a title. Plus, it sounds better if I have to put you in front of a client. I don't go planetside too often, but if that's an issue for you, we can get you to ground when we're between jobs. I like to stay outside planetary orbits for at least three weeks, to keep the engines stable against internal gravity. I've got landing pods, but sometimes we have to bring the Rackon down, and usually the terrain isn't friendly. Any problem with outside work? Spacewalks? Tow jobs?

I shook my head. None. I can do minor engine repairs, and some thruster modifications. I'm the only navigator?

That's right. Oh, you might have to do some recovery work, too. Not always safe, but I look out for my crew.

I already liked Milk Muffin, even if I thought her name was a little silly. Milk had a tone and manner that put me at ease, and made me feel like I was speaking to a friend rather than an employer. I hoped that manner held, because I would be working directly under her orders, probably one seat over at the controls. Milk greased me with endless smiles, lauding my reviews and my scores from the academies and seeming thoroughly impressed with my ten-year piloting background, fully certified and coming highly recommended for every class of starship, boasting manual, automatic, synchronized quad-motion, and AI-assisted 3D rotational motion and navigation. I believed that the friendliness came out of a sense of kindred connection. From what I learned through the agency, Captain Milk Muffin was sort of an ace herself. An excellent pilot in her own right, she had a career in salvage, transport, and even military contracting that, at only six years my senior, dwarfed any of my laudable achievements. I had gathered that much of her military experience involved moving in and out of dangerous war and disaster zones, and on such a regular basis that a lesser person might have cracked.

How many people are on this ship?

We turned a corner, and I just about banged my head into the wall as I fell back. An enormous android stepped forward, out of the shadows of the hall and with impossible silence for something so large. I swallowed in fright, and felt my nerve drain away as Milk caught me. I felt that hated phobia rise inside. Some people are afraid of androids. I'm not one of those people. The size of it was...beyond intimidating. The problem had been intolerable when it came to boys during my early academy days. I tended toward the smaller men even now. An android, though, was just too much. Especially this one, which had very human and handsome features. I tried to swallow my shock.

Milk laughed as I composed myself. Well, you've met Colace now. There's three of us on board. I know it seems like a ship this size should have a larger crew, but we're pretty automated. I've upgraded most of the ship to a light battleship standard. I've been in a few...rough situations. A small crew and reliable ship is best for what I do.

So you run with a lot of service androids like him?

To my surprise, both Milk and the android, Colace, burst out laughing. Androids didn't do that very often. I didn't get the joke, but the corner of my lip turned up in a defensive smile. I cast sidelong glances at them.

Colace isn't an android, Milk explained. He's human."

I looked him up and down. They had to be joking. They had to be. But...I mean...

I found myself pointing. I was struck dumb. My very soul quivered in embarrassment.

Colace waved a hand at Milk, who tried calming her laughter. He smiled gently at me. It's okay. Let's spare you the story on your first day. The short version is that I had a bad accident, and Milk saved me. Now I'm the engineer for the Rackon.

I shook his hand. It was warm. He had an internal heating element.

The three of us, huh? I said, weakly. What a blunder! Insulting the very humanity of a crewmate on the first day! The first hour! And the rest of the crew are androids?

Some robots. I've got a broken-down android chassis below, Milk said, kind of impertinently, but I don't need it for anything these days.

What about the automation? I asked.

She nudged her head toward Colace. You're looking at him. C'mon, use your eyes. Colace is completely integrated with the Rackon.

I used my eyes all right, but I was already feeling the bodyslam of realization. I'd had the wind knocked out of my inner reason. The implications were beyond reckoning. I choked.

But that would...that would mean AI integration. The time to create the neuron pathways alone would mean--

Colace held up a finger. One year of patient cognitive and motor therapy. That's how long it took.

I stood, gaping. The price tag would be out of this galaxy. Even I would hesitate before a down payment!

Even you? Colace asked, looking confused. His handsome face had lots of expression, and I realized some of it was his original face. The skin was faded to a bluish shade from artificial preservation.

Navipar Co., Milk said, She's the daughter of the president.

I shot a look at Milk. She nodded.

Did you think I wouldn't check up on an applicant? Don't worry. I'll keep it between us. We're all here for a reason, right? So what's the reason for someone with such a deep wallet? Or is it a secret?

Still staring at Colace, I uttered automatically, "Stretch fields. I want to find out more about them. And I want to know that I can make my own way without ruining my father's legacy."

Commendable. Welcome aboard.

As we left Colace to finish up a short tour, I had the feeling that I'd struck a wrong note. Milk's expression froze when I mentioned stretch fields. I couldn't imagine that I'd said anything offensive.

By my estimation, we were near the center of the ship. The halls here were lined with crew's quarters. I was shown to one of the rooms, and Milk stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame. To my surprise, she cracked open a can of something and took a drink. Where had that come from? Stuffed in the jacket of her uniform?

Beer? There's some in your cooler in the corner.

I waved a hand. Thanks. I'm okay right now.

Okay. Don't be reserved, though. She sagged and gave me a pitiable look. It's so damn lonely sometimes, and I'm no good planetside. Colace is fine enough, but he's always in the engine room. We mostly talk in the kitchen or over coms. You and I get to work side by side, though. I do most of my meals at the control panel on the bridge. No formalities. If you're hungry, eat. I could feed an army on this ship. Beer and wine is on me. I save the expensive stuff for after big contracts, though. My room is down the hall and around the corner. I chose this one for you so we could be close, but here you've got a whole hall to yourself. Just make sure to tell Colace to turn off the cameras if you plan on wandering around naked. Come to my room any time, unless Colace says not to. I'll be on the bridge for a few hours tonight, but you should get some rest. I'll run you through our operations tomorrow. Melnan clock. Twenty-six hour days. Sleep six to ten hours, depending on missions. The occasional sleepless jobs, but you know how it is. Let's share a drink tomorrow after we run some stretch field exercises. You drink?

I nodded.

Great! I do a lot, so we'll get along!

That was pretty disconcerting. She left, seeming cheerful.

I'd brought a single pack with a few changes of clothing. After placing everything in a drawer, I crashed on the luxurious, queen-sized bed, giggling into my pillow with anticipation until I fell asleep. I had no idea that things were going to take a heavy, disturbing, and awkward turn very soon.

During my first month, we undertook three missions. Milk said this was a slow period, and we should expect more business during the heavy shipping seasons. If the idea of seasons in space sounds strange, the brief explanation is that seasons are analog in nature, coordinated by standard algorithms that optimize the ebb and flow of interplanetary weather. Heavy winter on a planet meant cold and snow. In space, a heavy winter meant the high traffic planets were mostly in winter cycle. For my first mission, we coordinated a salvage from the frozen surface of Kyosk. Colace took the brunt of that mission, since his body could handle the terrain and weather with ease. I joined him on the surface in a search pod. Milk detected my nervousness and thought I should get accustomed to such missions. That operation went smoothly. I successfully connected a towing rig on our next mission, but I had lots of training for that sort of thing at Cardiel. We tackled another tow, this time pulling our client through a snapping point, the charting alone taking almost six hours. I also got to work with Colace on some engines that the client couldn't repair. I couldn't overcome my phobia, but I was sure Colace hadn't picked up on it yet, or thought I was just a nervous person.

For that brief time, things were okay. It wasn't until a certain day, when I was doing a hull checklist outside the ship, that I learned about Milk's problem. The memory is a vivid one. I was latched onto the cable that ran from the open deck to one of the lower-level cargo pod hatches. Milk's reassuring voice cut off abruptly. I waited for the connection to return. It never came. I was about to call it quits, but Colace came through my headset and called me back inside. There was no sense of urgency. I returned to the airlock to pressurize.

When I passed through the airlock and sealed the hatch, I removed my helmet and stripped down to my inner formsuit. I grabbed my uniform and slipped it on quickly, then rushed up to the bridge on the third deck.

Milk was curled up on the floor, clutching her head. I rushed to her side when I saw the blood dribbling down from her fingertips. Colace stood over her, and when he saw me, he shook his head. I came up and knelt, pulling at Milk's arms gently. She tightened her grip, and I grabbed her hands and pulled them away roughly. Milk! God, what's wrong with her?

She looked at me as if I was some stranger. Then she glanced around the room. I felt her blood pressure increasing in my grip, and her face went deep red. I'd swear I heard her heart. To my utter astonishment, she slowly pulled one arm away and reached into her pocket. He hand came out with a small injection gun, and she jabbed the needle into her other shoulder. I heard a hiss, and I released her, suspecting that the climax to this saga was over. Milk descended from the affliction, sweating profusely and breathing long, deep breaths.

She buried her face in her hands when she finally noticed me. I'm sorry, she said.

I felt an eye twitch. I don't know why it hurt so much inside my chest, but the thought hit me like a side-winding freighter. Colace caught my hand very gently as I swung my palm around, suddenly red with fury. His precise movements were the difference between stopping my assault on the captain and breaking my arm. I yielded and stepped back.

Are you serious? I muttered, clenching my fists. Are you really serious right now? I could have been out there on an important mission! I could have been relying on you for my own safety!

I gave her the full force of my enraged visage. I felt the burning of my eyes and saw that fire reflected in her frightened gaze. Drugs!? I'm taking orders from some braindead junkie?

I turned, bleating out a wordless noise of disgust. I hadn't meant to put it that way. It was shock and anger that drove me to that explosive outburst.

Colace tried to defend it, to my complete amazement. She wasn't on anything until now.

"Then I'm out there while she has some withdrawal episode? What the hell kind of joke is this?"

I'm sorry.

Her voice was a low squeak. I couldn't believe she claimed the right to make a sound. My anger wouldn't allow it. I spun on her again, shaking a finger. It's despicable! You didn't even tell me? Is this why you don't have a crew? Nobody trusts you?

I didn't let Colace get the words out this time. He started to speak, but I cut him right off. "No. I won't even listen to it right now. I don't want to hear from her, either. I'm going to my room, and she can come talk to me after the drugs wear off. After that, we'll see if I don't pack up and go home."

I left them, and Colace didn't try to stop me. What had I done? So much for being timid. Yet I couldn't help it, because I had grown fond of Milk, a passion for our sorority growing in my heart. Friendship was the appropriate description. As a crew we were responsible for each other's safety. As friends, she should have told me about her problems. I felt tears forced out by the burning anger behind my eyeballs. I hurried to my room as I considered that I am not the strong type, and that I had created a rift that would not mend easily. However, I wasn't sure I wanted to mend things. The past month felt like a lie, and the friendship I felt for Milk fell under the thin protection