Meteor Shooters at Relay Station #4163

By C E Chester

The Meteor Shooters Association has protected deep space colonies from the destruction of meteor showers for over eighty years. For the members, it's a competition to see who the best shooter is. Van Wilcox was behind schedule and struggled to charter a private space craft to take him the final stretch. Thankfully, he found an unorthodox pilot w

• Language: English
• Publisher: C E Chester
• Release date: Oct 17, 2023
• ISBN: 9798988722748

Book preview

1

The docking clamp’s clang against the spaceship’s hull could be heard throughout the cabin before it slid into place. It wasn’t the smoothest connection Van Wilcox had experienced, but not the roughest either. He looked across the rows of seats in the oval fuselage. Every square meter was filled with places to sit. He normally flew top tier, with more comfortable chairs and space to get comfortable. Unfortunately, the only flight available was on this smaller space craft, with only one floor of passenger seating.

Most of the people stood up, retrieved their belongings, and shuffled towards the exit. Van closed his eyes and leaned his head against the seat back. He felt tired, and not in a rush to deal with the last leg of his journey. The shuttle he was supposed to be on had left this transit hub eleven hours earlier. He knew he would have to deal with a ticket agent and they weren’t going to be pleased to see him.

Sir, do you need help disembarking? The woman next to him asked.

I’m old, but I’m not that old. I’m only one hundred and six.

Her eyes scanned his thinning white hair before she gave him a curt smile. He sighed as he watched her walk away. Then he stood up, turned around, and entered his security pin into the arm rest. There was a clicking sound as the seat bottom popped up, revealing his bag inside. Before he could get the strap over his shoulder, his ring, with three large diamonds to cool the computer micro circuitry, alerted him to a new message. He turned his palm so that it faced him, and a holographic image of Where are you? projected across his hand. This was the fifth message in a row with the same question. He knew he should respond, but wanted to wait until he knew what he was doing.

With his bag in place, he trailed behind the others disembarking. Thankfully, the lights in the concourse were dimmed, so he could look around without squinting. Traveling through space could get disorienting, with each place having its own daylight schedule, and none of them correlating with each other. It seemed he had arrived during the normal sleeping hours for the local inhabitants, judging by the lack of activity.

The only people around were those exiting his flight. They all went through the waiting area and turned right down the main walkway, following three lines of lighted flooring tiles. The green line led to the elevator that would take you down to the planet, the yellow line led to the central hub where all the concourses came together, and the blue line would take you to places to eat and get a hotel room.

Wilcox stopped, looked at his palm, and asked the computer to show him the route to his next connection. It pointed to the left. He looked that way, at a dark corridor with an empty seating area and only the faint glow of the emergency markings along the edge of the main walkway. He looked back to his right at the line of people marching off towards the bright lights in the distance. He knew going that way would take him to a warm meal and a soft bed. Instead, he turned the other way, sure he would end up back at the central hub, but he needed to at least try to get some answers before he could relax.

The lights flicked on in each section as he walked through it, and then back off when he had passed. The only sound was his ring signaling another message. He wanted to ignore it, but his kids checked in on him every day. They were grown up, moved out, and had families of their own. He knew they would worry needlessly if he didn’t respond. So, resignedly, he brought his hand up and read the hologram.

Strange things are afoot.

Thankfully that message hadn’t come from either of his offspring. It was from Ryne, one of his fellow competitors. Ryne was normally a man of few words, but this was cryptic, even for him. Rachael or Anders would explain what was going on, but he was determined to have a plan in motion before contacting either.

One of the ticket counters was lit. A quick glance at his palm confirmed that it was not the docking port he was told to report to. But he could see ahead to the one he was supposed to be at and it was completely dark. He decided to stop at this one so he could talk to a live person.

From a distance, the ticket agent appeared to be human. But as he got closer, he saw a third eye in her forehead. She stared at the computer screen in front of her, but the extra eye in her forehead kept glancing back and forth between him and the screen. He set his bag down and patiently waited for her to finish whatever she was doing. After a few seconds, she lifted her chin and all her eyes focused on him. She asked him a question in her native tongue. His ring immediately translated for him.

How can I help you?

I need to get to relay station number four one six three.

Her computer translated his Earthling into something she could understand. She smiled. One moment sir, while I look that up.

It seemed she had been doing this job for a while. He noticed that she selectively chose her wording to not promise any results. Her screen was under the counter top, so he couldn’t see what she was looking at.

She bit her lip, and her third eye suddenly looked everywhere except at him. He had already anticipated that there wouldn’t be any shuttles to that area, but didn’t say anything just in case he was wrong.

When did you want to arrive?

Yesterday.

She laughed. He didn’t.

I was supposed to leave here last night with the rest of the group, but I was on Earth when I got the message. I had to take four different space shuttles, and this was the soonest I could get here. Now I just need to make the last few light years.

She gave him the fake smile people give when they are about to say something other people won’t want to hear. All flights have been canceled. That area has been determined to be a no-fly zone due to a meteor shower.

He grinned back at her. I know. I’m part of the team that protects the relay station from being destroyed, but I have to get there to do that. He turned up his palm. Display Memo from the Quent Corporation.

The image of two asteroids on a collision course appeared over his hand. A voice explained that the third and fourth planets in the Typha system were going to take the brunt of the impact, along with the relay station. It then went on to give the estimated time of impact. You see, the storm isn’t supposed to start until tomorrow, so I should still have time to fly in today.

After sighing, she looked back down at her screen. Her fingers flew across the keyboard. She tapped the screen a couple times. She typed some more. Then she looked up at him with pursed lips.

My information says the area has already been declared a no-fly zone, and there are no flights going there.

He looked down at her name tag. Okay, Azure. I understand you don’t have any pre scheduled flights. Can I book a private ship?

She tilted her head sideways. You can book a private flight anywhere but there. There are safety protocols we must adhere to.

Van put his hands on the counter. I know all about the safety protocol. I’ve been flying out to meteor showers since your mother was a baby. The debris fields are tracked, and flights are canceled an hour before the forecasted time of arrival. We still have twenty-eight hours before it is expected. That’s plenty of time for someone to make the five hour flight out there, and return here without being in any danger.

She looked away from him. He followed her gaze to two pilots walking down the center aisle. One of them was very young, and human. The gangly one had the white skin of the Acorian people. They had originated on the other side of the galaxy, on a planet that had been lost so long ago no one could remember where it had been. Only their most intrepid explorers had gone far enough to cross into regions inhabited by humans. Some people confused them with being a tall, pale earthling that had been in space for too long. But they never acquired the immune reactions to vitamin D deficiency, and his purple hair and eyes were natural. He loosened his tunic and revealed a very colorful shirt below that was not part of his uniform. I’ll have your evaluation submitted shortly. Don’t worry, you did great.

The brunette turned and looked up in surprise. How do you know how well I did? You slept through the whole flight.

That’s how I know you did just fine. The senior pilot nonchalantly grinned. Otherwise alarms would have gone off and woke me up.

Azure waved and got the pilots’ attention. Both men turned to her, and then immediately looked at the man across from her. They glanced at each other with an expression that said ‘Now what?’. Neither of them seemed in a rush to find out.

Head back to the crew’s lounge, and relax a little. I’ll catch up to you in a bit. Once the younger man shook his head and went off by himself, the Acorian turned to the only other two people in the vicinity. He switched to the same language used by the woman behind the counter. Is there a problem here?

The desk clerk looked up at the man with relief. Janek. You just came from relay station four one six three, will you please explain to this gentleman that you cannot fly back out there until the shower has passed.

The pilot looked at the older man, then back down at her. When’s the debris cloud due to hit that area?

Azure shrugged, for the first time appearing unsure of herself. I thought it already was. My report shows that the area is already deemed impassable.

Janek frowned, and moved behind the counter. The clerk moved out of his way so he could use the keyboard. The top of her head was the same height as his elbow. This is strange. When I flew there, the report said the storm was two days out.

You mean this report? Wilcox opened his hand and brought the projection back up. The pilot looked at it and then nodded.

Yeah, that exact report. He looked up at the man across from him, speaking Earthling so he didn’t have to be translated. You must be a member of the association to have access to that information.

Van smiled with a little tilt of his head. One of the founding members.

The purple gaze examined the other man for a moment. Come on. Let’s see what we can do to get you there. Janek stepped back from the computer and motioned towards the central aisle.

But… Azure argued.

The pilot hunched down and put his hand on her shoulders, giving her full eye contact. No worries. I got this. Her eyelashes fluttered and her cheeks turned pink.

Van picked his bag up off the floor. The pilot had long strides as he came around the end of the counter. The old man fell in step beside him and followed him a few feet to where the flooring changed to indicate the main walkway. Van turned right, but noticed that the other man was no longer in his peripheral vision. He had assumed they were headed back towards the central structure of the hub, but Janek led him further down the concourse.

After a few rushed steps, he was once again beside the taller man. They came to a loading area without a check in agent. Janek walked around the unused podium and went through the connecting tube.

I thought you were going to talk to someone.

I found talking to be a waste of time. Especially if it contradicts what the computer says.

Once they were both inside, the hatch was closed. This ship was smaller than the one he had just disembarked. But at least some thought had been put towards comfort, instead of just cramming in as many seats as possible. The chairs were clustered into small groups, but could be rearranged as needed. Van recognized the familiar set up of a ship used for ‘produce runs’. The large cargo area underneath would be filled with perishable items needed in the outer colonies. The supplies were in higher demand than passenger tickets, so they didn’t need to maximize seating. More often than not, the association ended up taking something like this out to where they were needed. At least this one was clean, well maintained, and decorated with cheerful colors.

The pilot led the way to the stairs, descending into the center of an empty cargo bay. He stepped around the railing, and went to the open hatch on the far wall. Van followed him as far as the doorway, and looked into the cockpit. The seats were teal, with the traditional Acorian pattern weaved into them. Mementos from all over the galaxy filled every nook and hung from the ceiling, creating a collage of colors and shapes. The large screen was the only uncluttered area. It powered up and an up close view of the docking clamps and the space station beyond it appeared.

The old man had just about given up hope of making it to the shoot. It would have been the first one he ever missed. Despite being