Chapter 1

June 9, 2960

As the mining vessel ‘Pride of Apollo’ sat in orbit above Saturn’s moon Titan, Captain Mercer and his crew kept a close eye on the drones shuttling material from the moons surface to their ships waiting cargo holds. What was once a candidate for an alternate to Earth had now become home to one of the largest mining operations of ‘fossil fuels’ in the solar system. There of course have been some hiccups along the way.    

First was developing the technology for ships to travel vast distances in short amounts of time, followed by ships getting larger and larger to meet our ever increasing demands. While Ion engines were the first and best choice in the mid to late 2000s, it became clear rather quickly that these drives needed to be much faster for planet to planet travel. A few weeks was all well and good to travel from Earth to Mars, but when that turns into a few months to a year if you want to venture to Jupiter or Saturn, that apparently doesn’t quite cut it.

Enter the Warp Gate. Nobody can really point a finger as to where exactly the technology came from. First announced towards the end of the 2200s, the population of Earth was ecstatic by the potential of jumping on a shuttle and being on Mars in a matter of hours opposed to weeks. As with most new technologies though, with great advancements comes great cost. No single organization or government would be able to afford such a massive undertaking, so the building of two gates were the combined efforts of the US, EU, China, Russia, Canada, and Japan under the watchful eye of the UN and a committee of engineers. One gate would sit just beyond the Moon, while the other gate was placed near Mars.

While the length and cost of construction was astronomical, the time the Gates save is invaluable. The first two Gates were built large enough to compensate for the exponential growth of ships, but as with any project having the future in mind, it really comes down to guessing. Initial testing was less than successful, (drones arriving either in pieces or not at all) but it didn’t take long for it to be dialled in and more Gates constructed to stretch their reach to the outer most planets. Now it only takes roughly a week to get from Earth to Saturn instead of several months.

Mercer monitored his displays intently, keeping a close eye on the status of the drones as well as the levels in the holds. The last few trips, half dozen drones started to wander off their pre-­‐determined routes causing them to almost collide with each other or their docking ports on the Apollo. Mercer had reported this malfunction, but The Company simply shrugged it off with promises of scheduled maintenance the next time they were home. Of course to the Captain, that wasn’t good enough.

He turned his attention to his crew on the bridge while formulating a plan for the failing drones. Almost lazily, Mercer barked at the Comms Officer across the bridge.

“Comms, get maintenance on the horn. We need to sort out this mess before it turns into a shit storm”

“Coming right up Sir”

Comms officer Lieutenant Bernard sounded equally unimpressed, but it had nothing to do with the drones. She had just finished five years of service with the UN Space Authority, and now here she was on a lousy mining vessel running communications and navigation. It turned out to be far less exciting than initially promised.

While Apollo was originally designed to be operated by a much larger crew it could be run by a skeleton crew; given that they didn’t mind multi-­‐tasking. In the eyes of The Company, running skeleton crews on most of their vessels meant lower operating cost, which equals more money in their pockets. So of course they would rather do just that. Unfortunately this also meant higher stress levels on the crew and in turn a higher turn over rate of staff. Those that stuck around were the ones that didn’t have much of anything to go home to, or who had no other choice.

“Bridge to maintenance, Cap wants a word.”

The reply that followed caught Bernard off guard, as the maintenance engineer that responded had a rather sarcastic tone.

“Bridge, kindly tell the Captain to kiss my ass. We’ve been asking for parts for these minions for months. A big fat ‘I told you so’ doesn’t seem to cut it.”

Bernard glanced over at Captain Mercer, who without a doubt had heard the entire exchange. She could only imagine what was running through his head right now, she would be fuming and ready to tear this guy a new one. The blatant insult didn’t seem to faze him one bit though; he calmly made a couple swipes on his displays and pulled up the comms screen.

“I’ve had it up to here with this joker” Mercer held one hand over his head while he thumbed the screen to call maintenance, “Yves, I swear I’ll launch your ass into the abyss with the rest of the waste. Pull those drones in and get them fixed NOW!”

“10-­‐4 Sparky. Which drones would that be now? All of them, or...”

“YVES!”

“Alright alright. Sheesh. Don’t get your panties in a bunch.”

Mercer closed the comms and turned back to his displays. Bernard couldn’t believe what she had just overheard. At the UN, Yves would’ve been thrown into lock up for talking to the Captain like that. Yet, he still didn’t seem phased by any of this, as if it happens all the time.

“I swear, if I had a dollar for every time that damn kid pushed my buttons. I would’ve retired long ago, spend some time at that resort on Mars everyone raves about.”

Bernard wasn’t sure if the Captain was talking to her or just thinking out loud. Glancing around, none of the other crew on the bridge seemed to care what was going on outside of their displays nor did they seem to notice. As she turned her attention back to her own displays, her mind drifted thinking about Mars. Ads were everywhere for the resort, and anyone that stayed there talked about it for months after. She had planned on taking a vacation there herself after her stint with the UN, but The Company approached her with an offer that seemed too good to be true. It already seems as though it was. All Bernard apparently had to do was tough it out as an officer for a couple of these runs, then she could take command of her own ship. A NEW ship, not an old scrap heap like the Apollo. She had wondered just how old ‘Pride of Apollo’ actually was, as she never could find an actual launch date in the ships records or even public records. The only records she could find were refits done over the last 40 years, and surely it couldn’t be much older than that? Most vessels only have a life span of 50 to 60 years before they get turned to scrap and recycled. Compared to her last job, this was hell.

“Lieutenant if you’re done day dreaming over there, re-­‐assign drones 110, 403, and 508 to the maintenance hangar after they unload. Keep an eye on them as well, last thing we need is one punching a hole in the hull.”

“Sorry Sir, right away. Should I notify maintenance with an ETA?”

The Captain stared blankly at her as if she had said something ridiculous or offensive. He kept forgetting that she had come from a ship that had a state of the art artificial intelligence instead of the out dated dust filled banks of computers the Apollo had. The AI did most of the thinking and heavy lifting for the crew; they just had to give basic commands. ‘Pride of Apollo’ though, it was one of the last three “old school” ships left in the mining fleet. Here if you want something done, you do it yourself.

“As amusing as it would be to scare the bejesus out of maintenance, we can’t afford the set back. So yes, call down and let them know and make sure they’re ready. Keep in mind we’re not fancy enough to have a 3 inch holographic leprechaun jumping around Lieutenant, we work for a living.”

Bernard felt her ears glow red at the Captains last comment. Having the AI was something she absolutely took for granted. Not to mention how much she missed having one around. They were always so much more than just another one of a ships system. It was like having your best friend as a co-­‐worker, though of course not everyone got along with them. Most senior staff that weren’t used to it would often get into arguments with the AI, claiming they had no regard for human life and that they were just a cold calculating computer. To be fair, they weren’t far off on the computer part. The AI was set in place to make the crews life easier, make it less stressful and more enjoyable. There’s nothing worse than being on a ship in the middle of space a couple billion kilometers from home and not getting along with anyone you’re stuck with. At least with an AI, a person could carry on a conversation without being scrutinized.

As she pulled up the navigation screen for the drones, she could see that more than just those three were blinking with error messages. Surely the Captain was aware, and she was already too embarrassed to point it out to him. Bernard highlighted 110, 403 and 508 on the screen and re-­‐tasked them to unload and report to the maintenance hangar.

********

Down in maintenance, Yves and his crew of technicians were prepping the bays for the inbound drones. Once they had been re-­‐tasked, a countdown timer flashed on the main display in maintenance. While Yves started sifting through diagnostic programs to find the right one, one of his techs approached him half grinning.

“We’ve all been wondering Sir, why do you poke at the Captain so much?”

“First off Skip don’t call me ‘Sir’, I work for a living. Secondly, because I can; and lastly because I get away with it. Work with the miserable old man as long as I have, and you can get away with damn near anything.”

“Right,” The tech wasn’t really satisfied with his answer, even though it wasn’t really his place to ask in the beginning. He shouldn’t have expected any less from his superior. “So basically, because you can.”

“Right. Any more questions Skippy?”

As Yves turned his chair to face the technician, he wasn’t looking him in the face but rather watching him shuffle away to the rest of the his assigned crew who were busy cleaning the area and arranging tools. Yves just shrugged and swivelled back to his screens. These damn drones are all so old they should just be scrapped. We’re only looking at these three when there are others in worse shape running around. What’s Mercer playing at? He could only imagine what the Captain was thinking. As much as he’d love to see a drone crash

into the side of the ship and cause for some long overdue repairs, the way some of them have been acting lately; a little bump could turn into a big hole pretty quick.

“Ten minutes on the clock kids! Hatches open in five, make sure you’re ready.”

He loved referring to his crew as ‘kids’. It made him feel a little bit older, but the humour in it helped keep everyone in good spirits during the runs. The odd member didn’t find it funny; they usually either got assigned somewhere else on the ship or were ‘asked’ to leave when they arrived back at Earth. Occasionally Yves would throw one in a life pod and threaten to launch them into the abyss, but without the ‘Abandon Ship’ order from the Captain the pod wasn’t going anywhere. That was more of just a scare tactic, and was another one of his methods that Captain Mercer didn’t find all that amusing. When they were younger and just starting in command of ‘Pride of Apollo’ he would’ve laughed, and probably launched the poor sucker himself. Time passes and people change though, and the ‘Apollo’ has had a rough go over the years. From general wear and tear to rogue drones and debris colliding with her, she had her fair share of scars to match the crew that called her home.

A siren blared signalling the opening of the hatches as the maintenance crews braced themselves for the sudden drop in air pressure. It wouldn’t last for long, as the openings would be covered with a type of plasma shield that allowed drones and small ships to pass through but not much else. While the pressure in the room equalized itself back out to normal, the crew could be seen holding their noses with their mouths closed trying to pop their ears. Some were even smacking each other in the back of the head. This was a ‘trick’ that Yves shared with the first timers; it didn’t work at all other than for his own amusement. Those that had gone through the same cruel joke just stood there trying to hide their laughter as their co-­‐workers hit the back of their heads hard enough to see stars.

As amber lights started to flash around the first two of the hatches, Yves could see two of the three on approach. Turning to the displays he pulled up their respective navigation windows to see which one had assigned itself which bay. Oddly enough, they had tried to assign themselves the same bay and were now trading between two of the bays every couple seconds. Easy fix, Yves thought. Just override and assign them to bays one and three, leaving the slowpoke with bay two. The strobes changed to address the new commands while Yves kept a close eye on them as they approached the hatches to make sure they didn’t change their minds at the last second and careen into each other. It wouldn’t be the first time it’s happened. One of the Apollo’s sister ships ‘Zeus’ had a similar incident happen; only the drones hadn’t unloaded yet. When they collided with each other they crashed through the shields in a fireball of steel and methane. They knocked out power to the bays causing the shields to fail which luckily put out the fire, but subsequently also sent 15 technicians hurtling out into space killing them in less than a minute. Since then, it’s been mandatory that all drones be unloaded before entering the maintenance hangars. To most this seemed like a no brainer, especially Yves and Captain Mercer. They had both learned over the years that unfortunately not everyone had the same common sense they did.

The technicians split apart and started working on the two drones while waiting on the third to arrive. Yves had checked in on it wondering why it was so far behind, and to no surprise it had struggled docking with the unloading ports. He confirmed that it would be docking in bay two and set about running diagnostic programs.

While watching the program run its paces on drone 110, the hairs on the back of Yves neck stood on end. The heck? He brushed his hand over his neck as he turned around to face the maintenance bays when something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. Barrelling towards bay one was the drone 508. None of the warning strobes had come on to signal a ship in bound; to Yves this was one of his absolute worst fears, He had no intention of having a repeat of ‘Zeus’. Feeling frozen in time he stared wide-­‐eyed in disbelief at the approaching ship. Oh Christ. He hit the ‘Fire Emergency’ icon on the screen as the whole hangar lit up with flashing amber lights and the fire suppression system began pouring high expansion foam from the ceiling. As the technicians started looking around wildly for fire and ducking out of the foam shower, they heard Yves booming voice call out to them.

“HIT THE DE..!”