The Scow: Free Flight

By A.K. Child

GalaXcow is in serious trouble. The Central Brain has gone missing, the fleet of garbage scows is drifting off into space, and Nashville Tennessee’s lunch is once again disagreeing with him.
When the universe’s most powerful garbage collection company is beset by computer problems, everyone suffers. Prophitonian power mogul, Memphis Tennessee, is on the verge of losing his paranoid mind when he’s accidently pulled into his own computer system and faces the evil lurking inside. His illegitimate son, Nashville, and the intrepid crew of GalaXcow Vessel 4 drift into space and encounter the god-like Syllestians, while GalaXcow’s Vice President of Monitoring does his best to take over the company.
Join the insanity as lives change forever and the universe is turned topsy-turvy in a riotous romp through the stars and inside the very make-up of humanity.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: May 17, 2017
• ISBN: 9781365973314

Book preview

The Scow: Free Flight

The Scow: Free Flight

By: A.K. Child

G:\Writing\Scow\Concept-4.jpg

Copyright 2017

http://www.akchildscifi-fantasy.com

In association with http://flamingaccordions.com/

ISBN: 978-1-387-12465-7

Cover Art by: Elijah Toten

http://totencreative.com

Table of Contents

The Scow: Free Flight

Chapter One: All in a Day’s Work

Chapter Two: Rattish Eyes are Smiling

Chapter Three: A Moment of Zen

Chapter Four: Pretty Boy

Chapter Five: Another Day at GalaXcow

Chapter Six: The Real Brain

Chapter Seven: The Unusual Whatnot

Chapter Eight: Ending the Monotony

Chapter Nine: Manual Override

Chapter Ten: Spaaaaaaaace

Chapter Eleven: Adrift in the Black

Chapter Twelve: Land Ho!

Chapter Thirteen: Bleeding Edge

Chapter Fourteen: OMG

Chapter Fifteen: Deep Freeze

Chapter Sixteen: Aftermath

Chapter Seventeen: Resurrection

Chapter Eighteen: Warped

Chapter Nineteen: Aboveboard

Chapter Twenty: A Walk in the Park

Chapter Twenty-One: Scheduling Conflict

Chapter Twenty-Two: Plans

Chapter Twenty-Three: Hot Pursuit

Chapter Twenty-Four: Ascension

Chapter Twenty-Five: Lost and Found

Chapter Twenty-Six: Hunter or Hunted

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Nicked

Chapter Twenty-Eight: In Memoriam

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Shut Down

Chapter Thirty: Ebb and Flow

Chapter Thirty-One: Shining Light

Chapter Thirty-Two: Inside-Out

Chapter Thirty-Three: Reunion

The Road to Happiness

Chapter One: All in a Day’s Work

I’m afraid I can’t do that, Mr. Smith. Tech Unit Alpha Beta Gamma was programmed with a pleasant male voice, that had a touch of electronic reverberation to it. The unit was a simple robotic arm with an artificial intelligence designed for ensuring that GalaXcow Vessel 4 wasn’t overloaded. Its partner, Tech Unit Omega Psi Chi was in charge of offloading, and together they managed the garbage the ship transported between the designated planets and solar drop-off point.

But you can’t put Omega on punishment, Nash Smith complained to the machine. He felt rather odd arguing with a robotic arm, but there was nothing else he could do. Alpha had an annoying habit of following the book a little too closely, even if it meant over-stepping the machine’s individual protocol. You don’t have that authority.

I am sorry, sir, the unit responded in its monotonous voice. But Tech Unit Omega Psi Chi made the unilateral decision to make an undesignated offload. This is a clear disruption of protocol and will not be tolerated.

Nash groaned and started pacing back and forth across the thin deck plating. His booted feet clunked on the grating with each step. He often wondered when he would fall through the loose plates, effectively ending his illustrious career with GalaXcow. Below him were piles of garbage that easily reached several hundred feet deep. Some of it was likely toxic but there was supposed to be a shield in place to keep the fumes from overwhelming organic life. The horrendous stench of the cargo area made Nash less than confident the shielding was completely secure, however. It wasn’t a unilateral decision, Alpha, he tried to explain calmly. I told him to do it. They were space rats. They aren’t standard cargo and they actually add to the weight of the overall haul. Even you should see the logic in getting rid of them.

The unit was silent for a moment and Nash thought he could almost hear the gears clicking inside as it considered his argument. When it finally spoke again, the robotic arm bobbed up and down as if nodding in confirmation to its own words. According to GalaXcow Company Directive 22304, all life forms carried aboard ships, if not designated as cargo, are to be considered passengers. Jettisoning passengers into the vacuum of space is considered the willful commitment of…

Nash’s orange eyes widened and he jumped forward, waving his hands at the machine as if it could see him. Whoa! Stop! They were space rats! SPACE RATS! They’re pests, Alpha! They’re a menace. They chew up the wiring, and shit all over the ship. Getting rid of them is not murder.

Tech Unit Alpha Beta Gamma continued rambling on as Nash screamed. …murder, which is punishable under the penal laws of the Consolidated Star Systems of Solara.

Nash cringed, backing away from the unit. Hold on there, Alpha. You definitely don’t have the authority to accuse, arrest, or judge any one of us, including Omega. Why don’t we just let this drop, eh? As long as you’re not keeping Omega from his duty, everything’s fine. Right? He gave a hopeful grin toward the robotic arm, which another sentient may have found charming, but had no effect on the machine.

It is the duty and responsibility of all intelligent life forms within the Consolidation to report any known crimes immediately to the authorities, Alpha said without missing a beat.

Nash gasped and looked around in a panic. But…but Alpha! You’ve never had a problem with us tossing rats out the air lock before.

The large arm swung down, putting its clawed end close to Nash’s face as if regarding him. Until the involvement of Tech Unit Omega Psi Chi, I was unaware of your miscreant behavior. Please state all previous attempts, including those involved, so I may include them in my report.

Nash hissed a curse under his breath. He shook his head and quickly grinned back up at the massive metallic claw. Er…did I say before? I just meant…um…well…just meant I’ve thought about it. I saw it done on other ships, and figured it might work here. Not that we’ve ever thrown anything, or anyone, out the air lock. That’d be inhumane and illegal…and…and, well, it’s just not right! I’d never do that, or order any of the equipment to do it either. Nope, not me.

Another long, agonizing period of silence followed as Tech Unit Alpha Beta Gamma assessed Nash’s words. Sweat beaded on Nash’s head as he waited, tapping his foot nervously. Finally, the arm swung away again to its normal ready position, hanging high over the trash heap. As no action was taken at this time, I will reconsider alerting the authorities. However, if I should become aware of other criminal activity aboard this ship, I will be obligated to make a report, including all potential prior and failed attempts. For now, Tech Unit Omega Psi Chi will remain on punishment for the attempt, and will be restricted to only performing duties for which it is intended.

Uh…yeah. Fine, Nash groaned, backing slowly toward the garbage bay doors. He wiped the sweat away by combing his long fingers through the thick mess of curly black hair that spouted from his head, tongue running over his thin lips. It wasn’t the best situation. Alpha would be on alert now, making getting rid of the rats nearly impossible. Alpha’s adherence to the rules also made other things more difficult, like the nightly poker game. Omega was set to join the crew, but now Chuck and Nash would have to coax Merile or the Central Brain in, to keep things interesting.

I’ll…uh…just be getting back to work then. Nash spun on his heel and dashed for the doorway. If he spent any more time around that machine, he was bound to really screw up. But as he made to leave, the door stayed firmly shut, and he crashed face-first into the heavy metal. Ow…damn it… he recoiled, grasping at his nose as the blood started to flow. What the…

The door’s voice was similar to Alpha’s, in its casual, monotonous tone. Crew members only beyond this point. Please identify yourself.

Nash looked down at the red drops of blood smeared across his palm, then back up at the door. What? Since when? You know who I am, you stupid piece of…

It has come to my attention that restricted areas of the ship were not being enforced, Tech Unit Alpha Beta Gamma said behind him. Nash turned and narrowed his eyes at the machine as it continued. According to GalaXcow Directive 98672, all areas that hold machinery or functions vital to ship operation should only be accessed by authorized ship crew.

Nash pulled a handkerchief out of his overalls and pressed it against his offended nose. Alpha…it’s a hallway. And my access chip is my verification. His already thick voice was muffled by the cloth and the free run of blood that trickled down the back of his throat. Nash reached up to touch the small port just behind his right ear that housed the access chip. The entire crew kept their chips on them when not using the ports for other data, and his was resting right where it belonged.

Alpha’s claw swung back around to face Nash once more. I have looked over the ship’s blueprints and discovered there are vital systems running through the corridors. This particular passageway contains the sewage piping from the crew quarters. If sabotage were to occur, there could be detrimental consequences. Voice recognition is required for double-layer verification.

As the unit spoke, Nash was certain he heard a hint of self-centered smarminess. He sighed and shook his head at the machine. You’re starting to sound as paranoid as the Central Brain. That doesn’t even make sense. What about the rats? If they’re passengers, how are you going to stop them from getting into the wiring, eh? He wasn’t sure he was making any sense either as his clogged and painful nose mutilated his words.

The machine’s response was so immediate it practically struck Nash across the face. Chief Engineer Kajigger has made a special exception for current and future rodent passengers.

Nash dropped the hand holding the handkerchief to his nose. Chief Engineer who? Who the hell is that? When did we get a chief engineer?

There was another pause as Alpha accessed the ship’s database. According to the ship logs, Mr. Kajigger has been aboard for approximately 3.7699 years. He has made numerous efficiency modifications to the ship, earning him the title of Chief Engineer, which was bestowed upon him…

That’s enough Alpha, Nash groaned as he turned back to the door. He didn’t want to know any more about this Kajigger person, whoever that was. Once he recovered from his meeting with the door, he would hunt down the self-appointed engineer and make sure no more modifications or exceptions would be made. Just tell me how I’m supposed to get through this door. It’s not like we carry ID passes or anything.

Simply state your rank and full name for the system, Alpha responded, returning to its ready position. The doors are programmed to recognize your voice signature and speaking patterns, based on the crew manifest.

Nash rolled his eyes as doubt filled his mind. At the moment, he felt like he sounded as if he was talking while trapped underneath a Holikitie whore, which, while sounding rather pleasant made voice recognition difficult. Okay door. Second Shift Pilot Nash Smith here. Open up.

A loud buzz filled the room, making Nash duck as if something was going to swoop down on him or explode. Instead, he heard the unemotional door voice. Second Shift Pilot Nash Smith not recognized. Please try again.

Nash was about to kick the door when Alpha spoke again. You must use your entire name as recorded in the crew manifest.

Nash lowered his foot and grumbled something under his breath about stupid artificial intelligent. He took a deep breath, and tried again. Listen carefully you piece of rusty bolts, this is Second Shift Pilot Nashville Smith. Let me through.

Once more the door responded with an alarming buzz and bad news. Second Shift Pilot Nashville Smith not recognized. Please try again.

Oh, you have got to be… This time, Nash did kick the door, which sent a rattling reverberation through his lanky leg and up his back, making him regret the action as soon as he did it. He jumped back, hopping on his other foot and cursing profanely.

Mr. Smith, if I may assist, Tech Unit Alpha Beta Gamma chimed behind him. As noted, you must use your full name as it appears on the crew manifest. According to the records, your name is Nashville Tenne Er Smith. You may have more luck using this syntax.

Nash glared up at the arm as he lowered his foot to the deck plating once more. I’ll give you luck…

Please note, Mr. Smith, The unit continued, paying no attention to his threat. That you only have three tries to access the area you wish to enter. After the third try, your position on the crew will be suspended and you will be required to remain where you are until the ship reaches an authorized consolidated planet and your identity can be verified by the appropriate GalaXcow officials.

Nash stopped, his jaw dropping open as his brain processed the information. I hate you, he said lowly. When Nash first joined the crew of GalaXcow Vessel 4, he decided to tweak his name slightly to avoid unwanted questions and accusations of favoritism. The computer system recorded what was a mistake and hesitation, as Nash’s actual name. It was on that day that Nashville Tennessee, son of the reclusive owner of GalaXcow, Memphis Tennessee, became Nashville Tenne Er Smith.

The misnomer also made it vitally important that Nash got through the door on this final attempt. While the other crew members knew him as Nashville Smith, he thought that an appropriate GalaXcow official wouldn’t have a clue who he was and his career with the company would be over. Then again, he wasn’t certain that would be such a bad thing. After all, his father stuck him out here to keep him from enacting a hostile takeover of the company, something he wasn’t the slightest bit interest in doing.

Nash turned back to the door, trying to calm himself. His nose stopped bleeding, but his sinuses felt as if they were stuffed with several large vegetables. He sounded like that was the case as well, but apparently the door didn’t have an issue with his voice. At least he hoped it didn’t. He took a deep breath and looked at the metallic surface, which was pock marked from years of corrosive trash bubbling down below. Listen up you putrid excuse for a door. This is Second Shift Pilot Nashville Tenne Er Smith. If you don’t let me through I’m going to find a blowtorch and…

Access granted, the door said in its monotone voice. The words felt as if they should have been cheerful, but the lack of inflection made Nash feel as if the door was disappointed that he managed to get through. The metal panels slid open, grinding in their tracks and revealing the empty corridor beyond. Welcome to corridor 653. Please have a pleasant day.

Nash’s jaw clamped shut and he glowered at the doorway as he made his way through. He reconsidered finding and killing Chief Engineer Kajigger, deciding instead to make the guy reprogram the entire ship first.

Chapter Two: Rattish Eyes are Smiling

Somewhere up above, as Nash slipped out of the bay, there was a light snigger that echoed from one of the ventilation shafts.

Chapter Three: A Moment of Zen

The woman was simply known as Merile. If she ever had a surname, or any other name, no one knew. She was listed in the crew manifest as Merile, and that was all she ever introduced herself as. Such singularity was common for the followers of Syllism. They gave up everything that may have once belonged to them, including family names. Somehow, they believed this would make them more pure in the eyes of their gods, the Syllestians.

The followers of Syllism believed there was a planet somewhere out beyond the Consolidated Star Systems of Solara where angelic, powerful beings existed. The Syllists also thought that by giving up all possessions and living a pure, unadulterated life, they would become Syllestians after death. No one stopped to consider how crowded Syllest would become if every Syllists’ desire to end up there came true. Faith seemed far more important than logic.

Merile wasn’t exactly the master of logic anyway. She was originally from Mennis, a war-like planet, which seemed an unlikely source for conversion to Syllism. Merile was typical of the Mennisians. She was large and broad, though on the wan side from years of self-denial. She towered over her crewmates, and like most Mennisians, she was dark of complexion and hair, with magenta eyes. Through her years as a Syllist and travelling through space, she lost some of her muscled girth and deep tan. Still, her fellow crewmen aboard GalaXcow Vessel 4 were fairly certain she could lift the entire ship in a +4 gravity situation. They often joked that she may not be a woman at all. Their attempts to find out were met with certain failure as she held strictly to her religious beliefs.

Spying on her was a pointless venture. Whether she was alone, on pilot duty, or proselytizing to the masses on Mennis or Loten, Merile was devoutly committed to her religion. She would meditate for hours, praying to her gods. This meditation took the place of sleep. She ate only a minimum and never in public, and she certainly didn’t spend any amount of time in the nude, which made bathing an interesting prospect, when she chose to at all.

Spying on Merile was tantamount to watching slug racing, but that didn’t stop her crewmates from doing so. They could only play so many card games and abuse so many rats before growing bored enough to watch Merile sit in her quarters and stare at a row of god-like statues for hours on end. This happened to be precisely what she did now.

The Syllestian god shrine depicted a number of different entities, one for each of the eight planets in the Consolidation. While the people of these planets were all independently developed humanoids, they did have some physical and cultural differences, allowing the casual observer to be able to tell which statue represented which planet.

In the center of the shrine was a thin, glowing creature with large wings and subtle features. This was thought to be the original Divotusian, though they were long since extinct and presumably ascended to Syllest. The Syllists were so firm in their beliefs about purity they did not even procreate to keep their religion going, relying instead on recruitment from other planets. Divotus no longer had an indigenous sentient population, and was made up of Syllest students and practitioners.

Before becoming a Syllist, Merile lived like a typical Mennisian. Debauchery and war were the only things Mennisians understood and Merile was on a fast track to becoming another statistic in the school of life. She joined the military as a youth, which was typical of her people, and fought in several notable battles against Loten before reaching maturity and earning her rank and reputation.

While stationed on Loten during the Battle of Popus Flats, a delegation of Syllists swept through searching for converts. She found their message appealing. Enlightenment through purification of the body and soul, ascension to a higher form of being, and no more worries about the harsh physical existence of war.

Merile abandoned her post, a capital offense on Mennis, and went to Divotus, seeking the truth. She spent a few more years on the planet learning all there was about Syllism and how to keep herself pure. There was no guarantee she would be a candidate for ascension due to her impure life before her conversion. That only meant she had to work all the harder to prove herself worthy to the Syllestians. And Merile did all she could to meet that goal because ascension was considered the highest honor.

When she finished her training and felt strong enough in her beliefs to leave Divotus, she ventured out into the stars to begin converting others to the cause. She wound up aboard GalaXcow Vessel 4, finding it the perfect place to begin her important work. The ship serviced the Populo star system where her home, Mennis, was located. Loten was also in the system, making the Populo system a plentiful source of new Syllists, though Merile had her work cut out for her. Most Mennisians weren’t interested in religion, and the Lotens tended to dislike her for being Mennisian. The only thing on Merile’s side were the numbers. Both planets were vastly overpopulated and there were people who were looking for any way out they could find. Still, each time GalaXcow Vessel 4 came planet side to pick up garbage, she would spend all available time prodding at people to listen.

In between her missionary work, when the ship was trundling out to the main star of the system to unload the trash into the massive natural furnace, Merile prayed to her gods to keep her strong from temptation. And temptation abounded on the ship. Her crewmates, Nash and Chuck, were easy enough to resist. She wasn’t interested romantically in either of them. But they carried a large stash of alcohol and enjoyed gambling and sports as much as any Mennisian. Her distance from them was more to keep herself pure.

Merile only allowed herself one friend aboard the ship, a hyper-intelligent space rat named Kajigger. Kajigger found Merile her the first day aboard. The temptations to break her vows were strong, and her refusal to partake, incited cruel mocking from Nash and Chuck. She escaped into the bowels of the ship. The experience made her quickly doubt her decisions to leave Divotus and join GalaXcow.

Kajigger was down in the engine room, tinkering with the thruster controls when she showed up with her face buried in the scriptures. She didn’t even noticed him. Merile paced back and forth, muttering the rules of Syllism to herself as she tried desperately not to hate her crewmates.

As she calmed down, she had a feeling that someone was watching her. Merile’s first thought was that the Syllestian gods were smiling on her for denying temptation and not lashing out against her crew mates. She made another turn in her pacing and her foot came down on a long, wiry object. Kajigger, who was following her in her paces, gave out a loud squeak as he foot landed heavily on his tail. Merile started and dropped her scriptures, the heavy tome of thou shalt nots clocking the rat on the head.

Of the religions’ many restrictions, compassion was not one. Merile immediately pulled her foot free of the rat’s tail, and knelt down to apologize profusely to the injured animal. Kajigger ran from her,