Girls in Space: Hear No Evil See No Evil Speak No Evil

By William Douglas

Girls in Space is a chronological tale of three women and their adventures in the dawn of space travel. On crude but powerful ships they venture out into space to risk it all for a chance at being the first to get into the wealth of of our slice of the galactic pie. First there is Shaniqua who is rescued from a wreck as an infant only to find at age five she is an heiress to all her parents ship carried. Wealthy beyond her dreams. Second there is Piglet whose mining colony has been sabotaged and now must exit With the help of the ship and crew that is Candide always looking for the best of all possible worlds. She joins the crew and her adventures begin there. Last There is Nikita Bowman whose Freewheeling Cowboy ways and Admiral father put her in places none would dare to tread. She is first officer of Candide and she loves to look after Piglets Miners. Three women. Three adventures.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Apr 11, 2023
• ISBN: 9798823003674

Book preview

CONTENTS

Girls In Space

Shaniqua And Leon

One

Two

Black Hole Drive

Preface

Book One: Thor 47

Section One: Thor 47

Section Two: Piglet’s Pride

Section Three – Back Against The Wall

Book Two: Black Hole Drive

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

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Return Of The Dark Star

The Game Preserve

The Game Preserve – II

Black Hole Drive: Part II

GIRLS IN SPACE

When we found you, you were a one-month-old baby, strapped to the inside of a ‘one-person’ spacesuit. The collision took out all the inhabitants of the ship. You were a space orphan so they brought you here.

Do you know who my parents were? the little girl asked.

No, but your spacesuit was an armored Omicron Twenty model. It was valued at two hundred seventy thousand credits in value. It was sold to pay for your stay here at Vega Station. People came out of the woodwork to claim you when they found out you were the heir to a fortune, but we investigated them all, and all turned out to be frauds.

What should I do, Mrs. Jefferson? the girl asked, with her braided hair and dark skin contrasting her bright-blue eyes.

Well, Shaniqua, you’re going to get an education. You have another fifteen years to live until you can claim your inheritance. That means a decade and a half until you can do anything foolish like sign onto a prospector’s ship or a crew of mercenaries. You have money; you don’t have to do anything risky or foolish. You were found crying, with a full diaper, strapped to the inside of that adult suit. She paused for a moment, visibly shaken.

We here at the Vega Center Children’s Home will become the regents for your parents’ estate. The crashed ship they were piloting had both a wealthy cargo and an expensive hull, drive, and controls. The reason we are talking about this is one of the salvage vessels seems to have located the ship’s computer log. We should know who you are soon. The drive seems to have had minimum damage. It should be worth seventy million credits. The computer should bring in another ten million credits. That means you are now the richest little girl at the Center. As sole survivor you get first choice on what to do with the salvage. I am your regent apparent. The computer files on the computer log I have ordered duplicated. From there we should be able to see who your parents were, or could be, if anyone disembarked prior to the ship being wrecked. You are classed as a ward of the Center until your sixteenth birthday. We can only estimate that until we do a DNA search using your ship’s computer.

She continued. We are placing your spacesuit’s sale and its funds into a trust fund for you. We purposely avoided telling you of any of this until now. You will be schooled in Galactic English and Pacioli Accounting. You will need to learn how to count your pennies and make wise decisions.

Shaniqua went outside to the playground. She found her friend Leon and began playing hopscotch with him. When they stopped he said, So what did Mrs. Jefferson want with you? You haven’t been bad enough to earn her wrath.

She looked at him. He was taller and wore short pants. A sort of ritual what remained of his family put him through. It was late summer on Vega Six. He had been born on Deneb Twelve and so this cooler planet was a treat for him. Deneb Twelve was mostly desert. Tea in the Sahara was not as much fun as skiing on Vega Six.

I am an heiress. They might have my parents’ names from the wreck where they found me.

That was six years ago, he said. Are you sure you want to know?

Oh, I want to know. They just scare me. Mrs. Jefferson is one of the more mild ones. Apparently there are a lot of people who want to be my friend. I am rich. As the last survivor of the ship my parents were on, I am heir to all the salvage value of all of the wreckage and uninsured cargo.

So you’re rich. What’s so bad about that?

Bad people will want me. For all the wrong reasons.

That’s a bit odd. Nobody wants me. I am an average spacers’ orphan. All I have ever known is the Center. He was visibly fumbling for words. So what do you do?

Well, the first thing I want to do is find out who my parents were and what my name was back then, she said.

Dr. Polowski looked at Mrs. Jefferson and said, Do you think she’s ready for this? I mean, her father was a genius-grade mathematician and serving as navigator. Her mother was a cargomaster. A bit of royalty getting randy with the hired help. Her mother was mixed-race Chinese and Irish. She got those eyes from the Irish side. He coughed and cleared his throat. You know Dublin had its start as a Viking colony, he said.

She replied, Well, as far as I can tell those eyes are the only thing white about her. She will need a regency until her sixteenth birthday. She belongs to the Center. We are to meet her needs. We are to provide the security guards for her and her millions. She will soon have those eighty million credits. Her name was Aiesha Patricia Taylor. Her father was African royalty on his mother’s side.

That implies that Mr. Taylor and his cargomaster mate knew things were dire. Has there been any analysis of the wreckage to find out how it crashed? he inquired.

She said, We have found several Morgoth ripper torpedoes. They are cruise missiles designed to rip open the hull of a ship traveling at hyper lightspeed.

Morgoth attack, eh? But that could be faked. Morgoth sell torpedoes for two thousand apiece. And they have been at peace for over two decades, he replied.

All in all, it meant that Mr. Taylor and the cargomaster had time to put this cherub into a suit before the pressure hull was breached. Then give Ms. Taylor, the smaller, three days to breathe in the results of a full diaper. I would say she could have lived three days to ten, tops. The Omicron is a rebreather. It recycles and cleans the air. That and a gallon jug of liquid rations and she is messy and alive for ten days. With a baby it could have lasted until hunger and thirst made for an upset child. She’s a very lucky girl: to have one’s parents die so suddenly, and then survive so wealthy.

The Center was an administrative orphanage used to teach abandoned children how to survive in a brave new world.

Shaniqua was six years old and just learning how to spell and sound out words. She had no idea the storm clouds were swirling about her.

The drive maker, GE Kuznetsov, had placed a claim on the ship’s drive on the grounds it was the last physical evidence of a possible malfunction of their technology. That claim would be dismissed as two pieces of evidence said the drive was not at fault.

Morgoth ripper torpedoes had been found in the wreck. Signs of beam weapons were also found. An outer hull panel was found with high-energy beam weapon scars on it. That implied the ripper torpedoes were a decoy.

The cargo had been simple gold; 27-ton cubes, 132 of them, had been the cargo. All but five of the cubes were gone. That spoke to the crash as being a deliberate case of 24th-century-space highway robbery.

As sole survivor Shaniqua had inherited the captain’s share and the pilot’s share (her father being pilot/navigator). She inherited the crew’s share. Drives went to sole survivors or parties of survivors. The ship’s computer also went to the sole survivor.

Shaniqua also had some relatives. They filed claims too. Most were filed on the basis of Shaniqua needing to be with her family. They had made no claims until it was reported that Shaniqua was heir to 84 million credits. They circled the Center like sharks waiting for a sacrifice to be made.

In her own way Mrs. Jefferson became a sort of surrogate parent. She saw to Shaniqua going to school. She saw to Shaniqua getting Asian martial arts training. She saw to Shaniqua learning about the stock market. They even played a game called paper trading where Shaniqua could make imaginary purchases of stocks and see them grow in value. It was imaginary and done to teach but Shaniqua learned well.

That was life for Shaniqua until the age of 13. She and Leon ate pizza and Chinese food every Christmas.

But the Center was rapidly getting too small for Shaniqua. They looked at schools on Earth. Whatever school was picked would need security of its own and welcome accommodations for extra security just for the girl.

Mrs. Jefferson had served as regent for Shaniqua’s fortune in space salvage.

Whoever had destroyed the ship had looted the cargo. They forgot to do an analysis of life on board. The Immortal Warrior had died a quick death.

The sensory equipment used by the pirates had concentrated on looking for adult-sized life forms. They had simply overlooked Shaniqua and her one-month-old size.

Shaniqua would need a group of bodyguards with her at all times. With more than 80 million credits to her name and three years left until her sixteenth birthday, she would need her bodyguards for three years minimum. Probably they would be needed for life.

So Mrs. Jefferson, you have come to New York to serve as Shaniqua’s protector. I am Shaniqua’s great-grandmother and grand duchess of the royal family of the Earth nation you call Ivory Coast. My personal fortune is roughly equivalent to that of Aiesha Patricia Taylor. It is a miracle she survived at all. Our country has a yearly budget of one point nine trillion credits. Shaniqua can rest assured she will have a place to visit where she is welcome. New York is for busy young people. Ivory Coast is for a relationship with the Earth. Ivory Coast is old. What is this I hear of New York, ‘gone in a New York minute’? said the duchess.

We have the Friends School of the Peaceful Alternative. Its student body is comprised of mostly corporate CEOs’ children and consulates’ children of foreign nations and planets. That means a lot of security guards. For the next three years Shaniqua will attend the Friends School. I have left the Center school on Vega to come here and tend to Shaniqua’s investments. We have increased her wealth to one hundred forty million credits.

You mean you have kept up with inflation, the duchess said.

It’s not easy at this level. To have increased it by sixty million credits is better than just what inflation would take her down with, Mrs. Jefferson said.

This is all fine and well, but I came to your New York to see my great-granddaughter. Produce her for me, please, said the duchess. She looked aged, about 80 years, with gray dreadlocks and smooth skin, the type brought on by facelifts.

I will have her sent for after her noon meal, said Mrs. Jefferson.

Naturu waited in the office Mrs. Jefferson offered to her. She thought about her great-granddaughter. Odd, she thought, that her descendant was as rich as she at one-tenth her age. She reached into her satchel purse and withdrew a small flask of brandy. She unscrewed the cap and took two swallows of the warming fluid. She recapped the flask and put it back in her bag.

A spiritual experience. Like collaborating with God, she said.

A knock come at the door, and Mrs. Jefferson and Shaniqua appeared at the doorway.

"Come in, child. I am Naturu, your great-grandmother. Your father was my golden child. He was a great mathematician. That helped him become a great navigator. He served on the Immortal Warrior for the last two years. This woman, this Joss O’Malley, his cargomaster, was your mother. My family is royalty on the African continent. Ms. O’Malley was an ordinary citizen. That makes you royalty."

She paused and looked Shaniqua in the eye. My grandson was named Michael Nelson Taylor. He was thirty-two years old when you were born. That was thirteen years ago. And by a fluke of maritime salvage law, you were sole survivor of a ship that was attacked and destroyed by pirates. If you don’t mind, I will have my attorneys look into your case to make sure you are truly secure. My bodyguards will work with your bodyguards. It is said that a girl like you has diamonds on the soles of her shoes.

If I am so rich, then why can’t I get what I want? Shaniqua said.

Well, what do you want?

I want my friend Leon. We have been friends since I was six. I want his tuition paid and him to be sent here to New York. I want to be able to go to school with him, said Shaniqua in a forceful tone.

Mrs. Jefferson replied first. Shaniqua, do you think that’s wise? I mean he can be a kidnapping target or worse. Your food is analyzed by poison detectors and sampled before you eat it. This change would double our guard mission. You’re just doing this to have somebody to share a pizza with.

My bodyguards cost three hundred thousand credits per year. Assuredly this just means expanding the protection envelope from one person to two.

Naturu spoke. This boy is your friend?

Shaniqua replied, He is my only real friend. He is at the Center on Vega Station. I need to have my friends with me, here.

Naturu said, If he is truly your friend, he won’t mind coming here. He will have to be vaccinated and inspected. He probably won’t like that but it’s the only way.

I got expensive vaccinations. I got the ones where there were minimal needles. I want him to get the same.

But Shaniqua, they cost twenty thousand credits. Are you sure you want to use that kind of money just to have somebody to have a pizza with? said Mrs. Jefferson.

I know what I want, Mrs. Jefferson. Please don’t feel rejected. I play video games with Leon. I go over financial documents with you. I appreciate you and Naturu. I know you want only my best welfare, but I need somebody my own age.

Mrs. Jefferson said, But you will have people here at the Friends School that are on your level to bond with. How would Leon feel if he knew his only reason for being here was to keep you company?

Shaniqua paused for a moment and said, "But he is my friend. I did not ask to be the heiress of the Immortal Warrior. I am such by luck and the survival instincts of Joss O’Malley and Michael Nelson Taylor."

Naturu was taken aback. Such strong words for such a small girl.

Great-grandmother, give me my friend. Put him into my bodyguard. I want to do some collaborating with God and play video games with Leon.

Naturu was dismayed. Do you know what you are saying, girl? You would prefer life with a gamer to the real thing with your family?

Shaniqua looked at her great-grandmother and said, But I am also the daughter of Joss O’Malley. I have heard nothing about those relatives.

Naturu spoke, It has been fortunate you did not see them until now. I caution you against getting involved with them. Those who aren’t in prison have been circling you like sharks surrounding a human diver. It is they who have been trying to collaborate with the Almighty and devour you in a gulp. Of those not in prison, most are drunks and addicts. We can indulge your desire to see them for an interview, but I wouldn’t want them allowed in here without supervision. They are scoundrels who would kill you in a heartbeat for a ten-thousandth of your fortune. In all relevance, your friend Leon will cost you a starliner’s ticket to Newark on Athena Spaceways. The scoundrels you call your relatives will reliably want to kill you for an inheritance. You may see them for an interview but only under supervision. You can have your friend Leon. If Mrs. Jefferson will sign off on it, we could have the boy here in two stellar weeks.

Leon said, Biggest thing to happen around here since yesterday.

The limousine will meet us at the terminal. Do you have bags to pick up? said the bodyguard.

Yes, we should stop at the carousel, Leon said to the bodyguard. They walked to the baggage claim area. Leon instantly recognized his two duffel bags. He told the bodyguard, who snatched the duffels and put both over one shoulder.

Now, sir, we are off to the limousine. He walked out the door with Leon in tow. The black ground car appeared from around the corner, and its folding gullwing door moved up. Leon stepped inside and the bodyguard followed.

Take us to the Friends School, Charles, the bodyguard said to the driver. The car sped off to cross the closest bridge into Manhattan, an island overpopulated with 35 million souls.

Leon looked out of the smoked, bulletproof windows and was marveling at the towers built to scrape the sky. As soon as they arrived at the Friends School on the Upper West Side, the limousine got into line with several other long, black cars of various vintages. In all cases young children emerged and went inside the terracotta arches near the northeast corner.

We can get out here and walk, said the bodyguard. The door folded up and he carried Leon’s duffels over one shoulder. Leon caught a glimpse of a gun under the bodyguard’s coat. A chill ran down his spine. He got out but kept very close to the bodyguard.

The bodyguard leaned into a plate with a microphone behind it and said, Leon Harrison for intake. The doors quickly opened and Leon and the bodyguard stepped in. The doors closed quickly behind them.

The bodyguard tended to the bags and disappeared. A woman appeared with an aluminum clipboard. You are Leon Harrison?

Yes, that’s me, replied Leon. He looked at the clipboard and dreaded what it meant. Invariably he would be asked about a lifetime of diseases and medical conditions.

I am Mickey, I will be doing your intake here at the Friends School. I am a nurse with pediatric training. I am certified as a counselor, so if there is anything that distresses you, you can track me down and we can talk about it.

Sounds good. When do I get to see Shaniqua?

Ms. Taylor is in class right now, she replied. She has a break in about thirty minutes. That will give us just enough time to go over your medical history. I had your documents sent over from Vega Center. That means this should be just a formality.

She listed 40 diseases he could suffer from, all communicable viruses. She checked him for mental illnesses. She checked him for surgical implants. She did a drug and alcohol screen. On a thirteen-year-old boy, she said under her breath. The school wanted such exams done.

After 25 minutes had gone by, she escorted Leon to a room on the school’s sixth floor. A loud bell rang out. Children poured out of the doors and walked down the hallway to other classes. Shaniqua appeared and Leon said loudly, Hey, Shaniqua, who turned and smiled, instantly recognizing the voice of Leon, master of games and pizza ordering.

Leon, you goof. When did your flight get in?

About an hour ago. We flew into Newark and I got screened by Mickey.

"We all get screened by Mickey. That old aluminum clipboard has a lie detector