The Argo: 50 Short Stories of Galaxies, Gentlemen, and Gallantry

By Noah Hartley

These are the adventures of Clayton Wade.

Serving as a Leftenant aboard the 48 gun Argo, Mr. Wade operates the gun deck as the Nelsonian Class ship journeys across the galaxies protecting galactic trade routes from a dark enemy known as Scavengers. After commissioning from the Military Academy in 2632 A.D. on his home planet Thera, Midshipman Wade cut his teeth fighting these dark forces while assigned to The Ezra. After passing the exam for Ensign before the mast and a few close calls fighting Scavengers, he was promptly assigned to the larger and more maneuverable Argo.

Modeled after the 18th century Man-o’-War frigates fighting on the high seas, the Nelsonian fleet comprises a battle configuration outfitted with solar sails, tall masts, taut lines, and massive, modern guns capable of blasting out energy converted from the light of the galaxies as the Argo travels through the stars.

Along with the Captain and Commander, Leftenant Wade navigates life aboard and amidst the universe accompanied with his counterpart, Ensign Maury. A rarity amongst the other more modern starships of the day, the Argo and her crew are somewhat of an anomaly. Dressed in long coats, cocked hats, shined boots, swords, and high collars, the Officers of the Argo are Gentlemen – volunteering and making the mark to serve on the ships most likely to fight, and be destroyed, as they sail across the universe to protect transports from Scavengers.

Star Ports and Stations, open space and known trade routes, Leftenant Wade’s daily life is a struggle just to survive. While coping with such conditions, Clayton finds himself challenged with the same troubles as everyone else in the universe, human or not.

Set sail. Hold on tight. And run out the guns.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Noah Hartley
• Release date: May 16, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005269005

Noah Hartley

It was during the pandemic that I began writing the short stories that make up The Argo: 50 Short Stories of Galaxies, Gentlemen, and Gallantry. At that time my son was barely six months old and his eczema was flaring up really bad. As we worked to combat it with medication, I had to stay in his room every night and watch him for three or four hours to make sure he didn't rub his face. Keeping a six month old from rubbing his face, it appears, is a near futile effort. After a few hours he would fall asleep completely.This went on for months, as the risk of exposing him to the virus was still too high when taking him to hospitals for more and more help, but eventually we found medication that started working. As the months went on, I think I watched just about everything I cared to watch from online streaming services before I ran into a website where people posted random short stories.After reading and enjoying a few of them, I thought I would give it a try. That's when I came up with Clayton Wade and the 48 gun Argo. As some of the early short stories gained positive reviews, I kept posting, eventually leading to the 50 short stories of the anthology. Clayton has stuck with me since then, leading to the publication of Wade. I'm now happy to also add Chelsea Vela into the stories with her spotlight role in Eternal Dawn.The Argo, Wade, and Eternal Dawn are a mix of my interests, hobbies, personal life, and experience in the military. I'm not in the Navy, but if they bring back the rank of Leftenant then I may try to switch.I hope you enjoy the stories. Set sail - and run out the guns.

Book preview

1. Two Points Off the Bow

Route Security; Route Tritera – Near Galaxy 6p8ti

Hearing footsteps echo from behind, I turn to see the First Mate. Sir, he began, better come look, sighting two points off the bow. Possible refraction, not sure.

Who’s on deck?

The Captain, Sir. Midshipman was on watch.

Clock reads 8:45pm. Damn – whatever it is, it better be something easily resolved. It’s too late in the day’s activities to go bouncing off the rails.

The Captain is overheard discussing something with the First Mate and watchman. Sir, I offer routinely, a quick knuckle to the brim of my hat. He nods in return before going about his conversation. A flickering light off in the distance – dull at first, then a flash, then dull again. Taking up a StarScope, I flip through the settings to see if anything stands out in particular. Infrared, gamma, solar wind, high resolution, cosmic rays. The same image, just different colors.

Any shapes? I ask the First Mate.

Well, he began, making a face, top watch thought he saw an edge emerge from the curve of a moon’s shadow as the light passed by, but he wasn’t certain. Nothing on the radio, Sir. No sonar signal, no pulse emission. Sent a message over the Command and Ministry net – they aren’t tracking anything around, either.

Right, I reply.

Course – nine seventy eight degrees! the Captain shouts. Our ship began to slowly turn – but the light remained two points off the bow. A sturdy and quiet glance passes between the Officers and the watch on deck. The Captain leers out to the stars, walks over to me, and calmly thinks. "Whatever it is, it’s too far out of range for the guns, theirs or ours. No sudden movements, Mr. Wade. We’re not sure if it even sees us yet."

Aye, Sir. I reply, watching the Captain and First Mate make their way back to the quarterdeck. We post a watch and pass the word amongst the crew. Keep an eye, increase speed, stay the course.

***

Buttoning my coat, I fill my glass with another beer and walk quietly out onto the quarterdeck. There it is – lingering in the distance. The same spot, seemingly the same distance away. We’ve traveled some way these past hours, but it doesn’t move. I notice Ensign Rawlings with an eager expression about him, who in turn looks my way. I give a reassuring smirk to him, shaking my head a little. We both look back to the light. Still there. Looking around the deck, I notice others doing the same. Pretending to go about their work, though lingering. A short pause in my walk before looking at the light for just a second – then back to work. Hardly a sound is heard over the creaking of the ship save the flap of a sail. I can’t blame them. Captain’s light is out – at least one of us is.

***

The sounds of his struggling could be heard from all over the ship. They had to drag him away, put him away – lock him away is more like it. The third crewman who’s had to be forced to remain in his quarters. It consumed him; never slept, incoherently mumbling the entire time he went about his duties. His screams and warnings of the imminent echoed over the sides of the ship and into space. Others watching and listening to his pleas, knowing full well not to be caught next.

Look at it. Look! There it is! Again! A shape – just the very edge! I saw it, I did, now! Gone…

Nothing on the radio – static. Slowly turning the knobs back and forth, slowly each time, only the erratic hiss and clicks of space are heard. The static of space, the occasional vibrations, just faintly – faint.

This headache is splitting. The coffee does nothing, the beer has gone flat – so has any sort of hospitality between anyone. Everyone else seems to know more than me. No one will ask the other, no one will tell each other, you just…know.

Sleep. Someone has to sleep. If they sleep then maybe we will start to feel better. Many have been found in the outer banks of space where no one ever goes. Alone, stranded, alone so long they no longer want to be found. If they were found then what would they know, who would they be? What about those who found them? What would they think? What would they do to me? The brig? No way, not me.

***

Five hands. The Captain, myself, Ensign Maury, and two hands – all the rest are locked away in the hold, pulling at the ceiling and tearing at the walls to get on deck just one more time.

Crawling on his forearms, the Captain makes his way toward the wheel. The veins in his face bulging, eyes glazed, bags under his eyes, drooling as he struggled, face turning red. Grabbing the wheel with both hands, he works his way up, struggling, turning, pressing the ship full speed. Hanging onto something, anything, we struggled as the ship lurched and turned away from the light. The Captain yells – Screams – the last of his energy draining. Back the way we came, back, away from it. Fighting the urge to jump over the side of the ship to see the light just once more, I felt my life slipping from me.

Away. Further, faster, fainter. Less – less – feeling my eyes getting heavier. Grip slipping from the rope as I do my best to hold myself still while lying on the deck from the immense pressure and pain. The blood floods to my head, eyes begin to open, then close. Sleep sets in. My body fully relaxes on the deck, hands impressed from the tight grip on the rope. Eyes close…heart beating normal…deep breath. Lying on the deck, turning my head and looking towards the wheel – the Captain is collapsed at its base, hand still holding her steady as he takes us away. Away.

‘Captain…’

2. All Away

Sailing in the Pholea Quadrant – 2786bnm SSE of star 18aU

The gun deck was alive with activity – loading fusion cannon cells, ratcheting down guns to their rails, plasma generators charging the rounds, the men hauling on the ropes and chain to heave the massive guns into open hatches, men moving about while loading and slamming the breeches shut.

Thirty minutes ago a distress signal was intercepted with a ‘Go Ahead’ from the Theranian Defense Ministry to answer the call. No signals were returned when we reached out to them – assuming the worst. Prepare every gun with double blast first round, single scatter the second, I order the Gun Master who quickly replies with a prominent ‘Aye, Sir!’ while shouting over the activity.

Making my way up the decks, I join the Captain and Ensign Maury on the bow. There! the top watch lets out. A ship was barely visible through the scope. It was a large, modern ship, seeming to be turned one way while still moving forward.

Do you think that’s it, Sir? Scavengers? I ask the Captain.

The Captain keeps looking through his scope, moves it down, then back to his eyes. Can’t be sure, but I don’t think so. It’s possible we’ve at least found what caused the distress signal. I don’t believe that’s the one that sent it. No. He looks around as quiet seconds slip past. Mr. Wade, he begins, no chances on this one. Be ready. Run out the guns.

Aye, Sir. I respond, shaking Maury’s hand and making my way back down to the gun deck. All gun stations ready, everyone in their places, the Gun Master barking words of the ready, one hand to stabilize myself against the center support.

Shouts are heard from amongst the shrouds, followed by a series of blasts. Feint at first, followed by violent percussions off the side of our ship. We hold on as the Argo lurches up in our attempt to evade, hauling left, bringing the massive enemy space cruiser into view through open gun ports.

FIRE! I shout – guns blazing, recoiling, cosmic dust swirling out of the gun ports and into the darkness, the deck creaking from the blast. The dark ship returns fire, multiple short rays scattering across our deck, peppering masts, cutting rope, and tearing through the metal hull. Devastation ensues – we can’t take many like that. People could be seen through holes in the enemy ship’s hull. Crowds, hoards really, more people than could effectively move around. It seemed to be thousands which was impossible. Either way they made great, tightly packed targets. The ship slips closer to us now, seemingly trying to make physical contact.

FIRE!

Our guns blast away once again as the men continue their relentless shouts of war cries while guns recoil, hot cosmic blasts of red and white tearing new holes in our neighbor, some detonating within the old holes – enemy bodies spewing out from new holes through both sides of the ship. Creating distance, the Argo violently traverses up and away, the enemy rolling over directly under us. Load, men! Prepare yourselves! I shout as the men haul and heave the guns back into place while they charge.

Shouts are heard on deck, orders are given. A series of loud bangs resonate all around our ship. Looking out from a gun port, I can see the enemy ship below us, hull to hull, upside down and just below us. Hooks and chain fly through the air before latching onto our port side, forcing our ships belly to belly as we hurl through space. With the holes we just punched in her, there’s no reason she should still be able to fly. Men are heard desperately chopping at the chain to set us free, but more come from the new parasite attached under us.

Prepare for boarding! the Captain shouts, shooting at the chains in an attempt to break us free.

I hurry my way to the deck, witnessing the chaos and damage strewn across our ship. Drawing my pistol, I aim at the rail to prepare for the imminent hoard sure to emerge. The ship swings around from under us, appearing beside us – holes bristling with erratic bodies packed tightly together. Firing away, we flood the holes with rounds, the dead spewing and falling down into the dark abyss below.

Board her boys! Cut chains at their ports! the Captain shouts. Our men pull themselves down through space to float along the chains, making their way forward as we fire over and around them. We continue to fire as they pull themselves into the enemy gun ports. Blasts radiate aboard the dark ship as our men toss explosives before leaping through the void in a quick fall through space to return. Ensign Maury is the first to arrive, landing hard on the deck between his shoulder and neck, covered in explosive soot. I run to Maury, helping him to sit up, a huge smile on his face.

Probably shouldn’t have survived that one, he says, patting me on the chest, coughing out the dust and smoke. Bollocks.

Others soon land on the deck, some pulling their way back on severed chain floating in space. Holding Maury and looking toward the smoking enemy, I see a man, an Officers blue coat and cocked hat – its Maury. He turns and runs back into the ship amongst the erratic crowd still brimming at the holes of the enemy. Looking down, Maury sits with my arm on him, gathering himself. Other men from our ship can be seen in the holes of the enemy, reloading chains and throwing their dead into the void of space – hundreds of dead.

Cut away from the ship, damnit! Cut sling! All away! ALL AWAAAAY!! I shout, running and firing away as more chains fly from the enemy.

Feverishly hacking away at the chains, metal splinters and sparks flying about, more rigging is cut away as additional holes rip into our ship. Looking up over the side, I can see one of the enemy leaders shouting orders to his men – our Captain. Looking to our quarterdeck stood the Captain, helping turn the wheel away from our enemy. The men hold on as the force of our ship turning breaks the chains, taking our forward mainstay and pieces of railing as they break, tumble, and crash overboard.

Crew from our ship begin to line up along holes in the enemy ship, some jumping out towards us, weapons drawn and firing away to put us out of our misery – most shot dead mid-flight. The enemy veers away from us, listing to one side. We pull away sharply, the last remnants of chains knocking carelessly in a cacophony of sharp pings and noise. We look a mess, a terrible sight. It appears, though, that most everyone was still on board. Hardly a man lost.

Running to the rear of the Argo I watch, trying to catch my breath and one more glance. No longer attached, the enemy ship lists and turns away, further away from us now, holes blasted through both her sides, the dead in her wake.

She floats.

Listing.

Slipping away.

Further into the dark.

3. The Deepest Reaches

Docked at the International Space Port Cataria – 870mnm NE Planet Jun

I was already late. The port was busier than usual this week, a large trade fleet being assembled for a five day trip across the Malek Quadrant as we were to serve as the avant-garde during our next voyage. Hurrying up the ramp and onto the deck, I situate myself with the Captain, Signaleer, Ensign Maury, and other Officers as they finish business. The Captain had not seemed to notice my mispunctuality.

You will receive three… the Dock Master began, going over the shipment paperwork with the Captain and his Staff. Looking around, I couldn’t help but notice how our ship was so overshadowed by the other large, modern space craft around us with the modern uniforms of their Officers and crew. Our men preparing the solar sails, lines being hoisted – all the excitement in preparation for the formation and launch usually found before we shipped out. …as well as your ammo and quarter ration increase. Your order’s aboard, Captain, the Dock Master finally finishes.

All’s well, the Captain replies before signing the papers. The other Staff, anxious to go about their stations one-by-one made for their posts. I began to follow suit before being stopped – And Mr. Wade! the Captain lets out – stopping in my footsteps, slowly turning around, standing straight, looking him in the eye.

Aye, Sir, I reply with a deliberate salute.

We would very much enjoy you being on time for the next loading. If it wouldn’t trouble you, of course, the Captain says coolly as he slowly, tightly adjusts my coat lapel before straightening my shoulder board, a heavy hand pressing down on my shoulder. And do make sure our guests for the voyage are well looked after. No gun deck tours, I should think.

Yes, Sir. Of course, Sir.

A quick salute, a turn on the heel, and away. Embarrassing – not impressed with myself, as was the usual.

***

Two days into our trip across the stars, we keep watch over the convoy. Uneventful at most. It seems it will be a leisure trip for our guests aboard and a vacation for the crew. Morning, Clayton, Ensign Maury says, holding his cup of coffee.

Seeing him, I let out a half smile and tap him on the back harder than necessary. Evening, I should say.

My shift was over, he had the evening watch. Poor bastard.

Making my way below, I pass through the passengers quarters before noticing an open door and a single dim light emitting from within. Glancing as I go by, I see her – sitting there – alone while going through her things. Watching as I pass, she sees me and smiles. Stopping, I take the time to exchange words.

Her beautiful face. Long, dark hair about her shoulders. Her deep blue-as-the-night-sky eyes. She was a vision – intoxicating. Inviting me to sit, we discussed the uneventful trip. Pulling out a couple glasses, she casually pours us wine. We talk and laugh while inviting the late evening hours. Later, the cabin door seeming to be closed – my cares seem to slip away – as do other such articles, those that were highly disagreeable in a stuffy room permeated by wine and the warming air between us.

The softness and taste of her cheek, the full feeling of pleasures below her neck, the inches traveled to and around the curves of her waist, along her legs. Her perfume was a sweet, dark sense – like a precious spice dipped in the dark velvet amid the deepest reaches of night. Invitingly, she enveloped my senses, slowly soothing my soul.

The tightness of knees squeezing my sides. Her back arching, shoulders and head back, eyes closed. Somewhere between smiling and grasping for air, her lip quivers – a tightening and twitching to a full body stiffness. Holding her breath for a moment, she becomes still. A low whimper. The sudden quiver – and tightening. Leaning my head back, hand on the wall for balance, I stop trying to hold back. Grasping for breath, heart pounding as the releasing pulse flows along my spine – finally a deep breath as the blood rushes to my head. Muscles weak, eyes closed, lungs full, a slow collapse. The night envelops us both.

***

The next day’s shift was one of the longest I had ever experienced. Although I woke, I felt I had hardly slept. Walking the quarterdeck, I reach into my coat pocket and feel the broach she left in the room. When I awoke earlier, she was already up and about. I watched for her during my time on deck, but she never emerged. After being relieved of duty, I went to the passengers quarters – down to her cabin. Her things were no longer there. Checking the other open cabin doors, I find nothing of hers.

That evening I couldn’t eat. Walking through the ship, not to appear too alarmed, I do not see nor hear anything of her. I make a round of the deck during the night shift, but still no sign. Returning to her empty cabin I sit, setting the broach on the nightstand with another empty glance around. The night hours set in, hour by hour. Closing the cabin door, I lay on the bed, still able to smell that deep night sensation from her. The hours go by, the sound of her voice, feeling her silk – sleeplessness sets in – hours, days go by without it.

***

Assault. An attack, truly, though only from pure exhaustion. That’s why they locked me in here. But it didn’t matter – while locked up I may finally sleep, dream, and see her. I would awaken in a cold sweat, heart pounding, senses reeling, eyes red from deprivation. Tearing off my shirt, I try to cool myself – blood boiling, veins stinging, an uncontrollable pulsing through my body. On my knees now, I lean back, letting out a deep groan, a sharp yell, a curling scream. My now hoarse voice heard gasping throughout the deck, onto the dock where we had finally arrived. Gripping the bars, I let out a deafening cry, violently pulling at the door to be free, to get away. Sweat pours from my body. Her scent was collapsing on me, contaminating my soul.

Outside of my cage, from the corner, footsteps slowly move closer. Looking out, pressing my sweating and strained face between the bars I see her – gracefully walking away, her eyes piercing my soul as I watch. She squeezes, severing my senses and enraging my burning, cutting off all circulation. Heading out the door, it slams shut and she’s gone – leaving me to the cold, steel caged darkness.

W-Wait! WAAAAIT!

***

That’s the last of it, the Captain remarks to the Dock Master, signing the offloading paperwork.

Thank you, Sir, one of the three gentlemen passengers replies to the Captain as they disembark. A safe passage and, as always, a pleasure seeing you again.

The Captain shakes their hands. Thank you, gentlemen.

Are all three passengers off the ship, Sir? the First Mate asks.

Yes, replies the Captain. Prepare the ship, Mr. Blightly. On our way.

4. Always Know

Transmitted along the Rolmet Trade Route; Ministry Security Task Force – Day 6 of 12; NE star 28iO

Dearest,

These few days have gone by so slowly. It’s difficult for me knowing that I left without seeing you as I once did. Walking up the stairs to your door, I had a sense that something was amiss. Once Alexander told me that you had left, I wasn’t sure what to expect next. The scene plays through my mind of when we last spoke. The waiting was the hardest part – not knowing when or if I would return.

Walking along the road that day – the tall grass swaying in the wind, the sun starting to retreat from the long hours, the cool air of evening beginning to settle. You didn’t take my arm as you normally would – only gently placing a hand where you usually rested your arm in mine. When a ship passed overhead, far into the sky, you didn’t ask me if I knew which one it was – where it may be going. Something was on your mind – more so than usual. I knew better than to pry.

‘Just let her be,’ I told myself, now knowing that was one of the worst things I could do. I wish you would have told me, but if not then given me some idea of how troubled your mind was that day.

Where you have gone I’m not sure. What you may be doing I don’t know. Know that wherever you are, whatever you are doing, that you are surely missed. I haven’t told anyone that you were not there. When I arrived on deck, the others asked me how you were. I smiled, of course, held up an old letter that you had once given me before – the previous letters you had slipped in my coat – and pretended it was new. Nothing had changed, nothing was the matter. All’s well. All away, then.

Things are not as well, however. I saw you here – on the ship’s deck surrounded by the dark night that only space can produce. Deep molecular clouds, bright stars in the distance, the endless void. Sitting at your desk, you were writing, hopelessly I was thinking it was something meant for me. The grass and wildflowers from the field surrounded you, the wind gently blowing at your dress and papers on the desk. I couldn’t approach you – I didn’t want to disturb your thoughts.

The way the sun’s light shone along your dress. Your soft skin slowly tanning from the summer sun. Seeing the sails above you beginning to fill, pushing the ship forward, you look upwards, around, and finally to me. The smirk on your face was one you give me when I’m up to something. You hated surprises – you always knew when I was hiding something behind my back – knowing full well I went too far, paid too much, for something so peculiar for the hope of spurring your curiosity.

We slowly danced together, holding each other close as we slowly swayed amidst the stars and summer sun. Always curious, you thought I knew every star in the sky, thought I knew the names of every planet and moon we passed. It was hard to lie, but providing a name always made you smile, making you wonder who named it and how far away we were or if you could see it from Thera. The stars reflecting in your eyes, your mind astir, adjusting your hand in mine as we steal time together. A gentle sway.

I should make port in twelve days. I know you won’t be there at the dock, but I’ll be at my usual spot as we arrive. I’ll still look for you. Regardless.

I’ll button my coat, put my hat on straight, and tighten my cuffs as you would like me to do. ‘At least try to look respectable,’ I can still hear you say, smiling as you do so, taking a deep, shuttered breath before I have to leave.

I do miss you so. Always know – wherever you may be.

Affectionately Yours,

Clay

5. A Desperate Panic

In Contact Defending the Mauridus Trade Route; 1026 degrees h3RO System

Debris pinged off the side of the Argo, tearing small holes in the sails and lodging in the hull. Engines roar as our ship tries to roll around the oncoming field of debris from another ship taking a direct hit. The destroyed ship, pulling away, can be seen rolling to one side – her crew and gear scattering out into space for a sure and irretrievable death.

Holding on tightly, we wait for our