The Hell With Earthside: A Novella (STRYDER'S HORIZON Book 1) Read online

  She waited for the transport to veer back down the road before she ran to us.

  “What did they want?”

  “Pretty much what they said out here. I need to take care of a few things at my place and then I’m going to ride out to Earthside, want to come?”

  I had never figured out Alice’s story, but she shuddered at the thought of taking a trip out to Earthside. I knew it couldn’t be pleasant. Most of the people who lived in Burnside had very good reasons for being here. Before Earthside was built, there was a much more hopeful attitude about this planet. Like this was going to be the one. Like we’d all drawn the long straws and lucked out on a place we could call home. But once the planet had been drilled and colonized, it never felt like home.

  It was too expensive to leave.

  “Where’s he going?” Alice asked as Gregor had gone into his shack and returned with a stuffed pack over his shoulder.

  “With me. I just pilot drill-runners. I can’t say I know anything else about them.”

  Alice had the expression on her face like she didn’t know what to do if we were gone. I’m sure she’d hook up with some scrap at a pub or start stories about how she did beat me today. But maybe it was something else. Alice was a few years younger than me, and she probably had no idea that sometimes when people get into a Colonial Transport they do come back.

  Of course, I was smart enough not to risk that and was going to take Old Shepard all the way to the wall. Hopefully the Colonial Officers would overlook the environmental regulations and let me park it inside.

  My place was nicer than Gregor’s, but I’d still call it a shack. It just happened to stay cleaner, mainly because I spent all my time in Old Shepard or at Macy’s Pub. But it was drastic enough of a difference that Gregor always tried not to touch things as if he was afraid I’d get mad at him for dirtying up the place. I guess it was because of the way I got when people touched Old Shepard.

  I fumbled through outfits and tried to find my old roll gauge. I’d kept it when they disassembled my drill-runner and launched it into space. It wasn’t often, but sometimes I regretted not going. Like maybe I’d be happier if I was somewhere else, like maybe I did have a home out there in this galaxy.

  I think homes are like souls. At some point, God ran out of them. Now we’re just kind of here with no purpose or reason, just a slight miscalculation of excess.

  Kind of like all the junk that had filled my place. It was all stuff I didn’t really need. I just thought I did. All I ever needed was Old Shepard and enough Calcioil to keep me chasing the horizon.

  “We need to be careful in Earthside. We show them what to do and we leave,” Gregor said.

  “I’m with you on that, buddy.”

  “I mean it, Kimmie. If anything goes wrong, they will blame you. Colonial always blames someone.”

  “I know. You don’t have to tell me.”

  “I think I do. I’m only coming to—

  “Relax, if I thought there was a risk I’d have told him no. You know his little transport couldn’t keep up with Old Shepard.”

  “What about the Dessup Gang? Huh, Kimmie? This might be a little operation for them. You play with the hornets’ nest and you get stung. You better kill them all.”

  He had finally said what was in my heart. I didn’t like hearing it. This was only a win/lose scenario. There would be no second place.

  “It doesn’t matter anymore. It was in the past. I’m okay now. Let Colonial have their way with them.”

  “Really, I don’t buy that.”

  “I’m definitely going to make sure they see justice, but long ago I realized I don’t have the power to give them what they truly deserve. It’s a tough bite to chew, but I’ve been chewing it for six years.”

  “I’m just saying, Kimmie. If you are going to do this you better kill them all.”

  “Then let’s kill them all.”

  4. WHAT IS DEAD?

  Our conversation at my place had made the drive to Earthside awkward. We’d exchanged a few quips about Old Shepard’s performance, but it was like we were scared the water in the kiddie pool was too cold. Eventually I pushed Old Shepard up to 292-mph, which gave our teeth a nice solid rattle. It felt great when we finally had our feet on flat un-moving soil again.

  Look, I’ve seen what vengeance does to people. I saw what it was doing to me, and thank God, someone like Gregor had seen it six years ago as well. And as the gates to Earthside opened and Colonial officers led us in I didn’t have to remind myself of it. I was there to train someone else to take care of the Dessup Gang. That’s as dirty as my hands were getting.

  I could do this. I could keep my emotions buried.

  Of course upon entering Earthside, I wondered if there was anyway to get my hands dirty at all. I had forgotten how beautiful it was. In no way did it look like a place terrorized by the Dessup Gang. Everywhere people bounded about with tattooed smiles and friendliness. There wasn’t trash anywhere. I was glad I hadn’t fixed my hair or makeup as that seemed to invite an array of odd glances. I felt like I needed a camera to collect them all, just to show how truly varied the look of disgust could be.

  Colonial Officer Davis must’ve thought I had intended to clean up as well. The second he spotted me he quickly ushered us into a Colonial guard station.

  The looks continued as we were marched into an immaculate mechanics’ bay. Ten drill-runners waited with the packing materials still on them. I wondered what it had cost them to get them sent down on a planet that had already been drilled. I also wondered if Davis had planned to get his officers to try a run without my help. Either way, I had assumed they’d be left over drill-runners rather than brand-spanking new ones. I might be at a loss if they had changed in six years.

  “Very shiny,” Gregor approved. He began inspecting them. Davis watched him for just a moment before he directed me towards ten officers who looked about as proud as stupid could look. They must’ve volunteered.

  Of course I understood that catching the Dessup Gang was an easy motivator.

  “Officers, this is Lady Kimberly Stryder. She worked for the KorCorp Drillers for five full seasons. She is an expert in drill-running and I am told she is also a skilled pilot of anything that moves.”

  I gave a polite wave. They smiled like they had no clue what they were getting into.

  “I will turn them over to you, Stryder. I will be right over here if I can be of any assistance. Just let me know.” Davis stepped back a single step. I guess that meant he’d be breathing down my neck the whole time. So I had to keep in mind the end goal, the Dessup Gang.

  “Alright, the first thing I was ever told about piloting a drill-runner was the best advice I ever heard. It didn’t make sense at the time, but in time, if you live, you will probably find it to be an apt description of drill-running. My mentor used to say, ‘it’s not as hard as it looks but it is not as easy as it looks.’ Drill-running is done because no computerized system could survive the heat of the planet core. Instead, they jettisoned the smartest half-wits they could find with quick reflexes into a network of veins, a labyrinth of death. We’d shoot down hoping to find these tiny little slivers of 10-90a. We then had to latch a drill cup just right. Then if we were lucky, we got to navigate out of the vein, only to go back in again a few hours later when the cup was full—“

  An irritated Davis cut in, “They’ve seen the documentaries, Stryder.”

  “What I’m getting at is the fact we did this over and over, going deeper and deeper each time. We memorized the veins and unfortunately, I don’t think I could forget them. Now the benefit you all have is that first off, the tubes won’t damage any computer you have on board. I would recommend outfitting these with imaging, weapons, and anything else Colonial is willing to front.”

  “We will be,” Davis said.

  “Good, the second thing is that we can start to memorize the tubes without ever going inside since the plans for Earthside can be uploaded into a VertDeck?”

/>   I wasn’t actually sure. But Davis nodded as I looked at him.

  “But before we can do any of that, you all must learn how to turn. It goes against every single device you have ever piloted. You are going to save us all a lot of time if you just pretend right now you have never moved your arms or legs in your life. Because when you lay down in a drill-runner, that drill-runner is a part of your body. And if you start moving your body like you do on a normal basis, you’re going to end up in a wall. Dead.”

  “You can’t catch the Dessup Gang dead.” Davis added. Seeing the smiles on the officers’ faces had not changed, it was probably a good idea to remind them of this.

  So for good measure, I also added, “Dead is bad.”

  5. PIVOT POINTS

  “They’re different,” Gregor told me as I led the officers down to the drill-runners. His words stopped me dead in my tracks. I decided to try one out. It looked about the same as I remembered, like a giant wingless-hornet. I lay down and slid my arm through the calibrators and my legs through the pins. They locked down as soon as I did. Beneath me I could feel the orb ever spinning. The feeling against my stomach had not been missed until that moment. My heart raced as I remembered all my near-death experiences. I was younger then, and back then, those moments scared me. I’d had something to live for, but right now it felt like I yearned for them. Like death was what I had always wanted.

  “The first thing to keep in mind is that you are turning the orb here at my stomach. You are not turning your body the way you want to go. You’re not simply flying through a space dodging things. You have to work with this little ball that has no eyes and sure as hell doesn’t share your same perception of time and space. This ball works not unlike a magnet, but instead of basic magnetism it generates its own gravity.

  “And yes, the rumors are true. There have been people who have generated so much gravity that they were shot through space and never seen again. And there are people who generated so much that they dug themselves a grave.

  “Drill-runners are a tool that humanity is still not ready for. Maybe one day, there will be a generation who laughs at all of us silly people crashing into things, but that day is not today. Now watch.”

  I activated the drill-runner. It rose off the floor of the bay. I whipped it around so that I would be standing if my feet were on the ground, a tenth of a second and I’m upside down. Then left then right. The orb is in the exact same space the whole time.

  “You see the orb is a pivot point. There are gauges on at my fingertips, which propel it forward. As it moves forward, I turn the orb with my body to adjust the position of the drill-runner.”

  There should’ve been ooo’s and ahh’s. They must’ve seen it in the documentaries.

  “The key is to put the orb where it needs to be at all times, but because of the strength at which the orb can pull you, it is best to dodge by simply pivoting.”

  “Excuse me,” a young man said.

  I spiraled over to him. “Yes?”

  “When we go into the tubes, the gang will be armed. If they know this, then keeping a pivot point with the orb is asking to be shot.”

  I nodded, “These were not designed for combat. They were designed to navigate complex channels.”

  “And the tubes are very complex,” Davis assured us all.

  “So you’re not going to teach us how to actually survive?” the young officer asked. It was a frustration that seemed foreign in Earthside.

  “Officer Millar, please let Lady Stryder continue.”

  “No, Millar brings up a good point. There will be combat, and it is something we will have to learn together. But you can’t fight if you can’t breathe. And drill-running is breathing. Thank you, Millar.”

  The Officer nodded and gave me his full attention.

  The first lesson ended with each officer trying his or her hand at riding a drill-runner. Even using a security bubble around them did not end well. Two of them crashed into the bay wall. One of them broke their leg within the bubble, which might’ve been a first, and the rest were dizzy from spending too much time upside down.

  Colonial Officer Davis looked disappointed at the end of the session. The near-discouraged officers hung their heads as they passed. When the bay had cleared, it was just Davis, Gregor and I.

  “They can’t even do it with training wheels on,” Davis said regarding the security bubble. “There’s no way we can have them navigate through the tubes. They’d be too damn big.”

  “Au contraire,” Gregor said with a fake French accent. “If they plug up the tubes, the Dessup will have nowhere to go either.”

  “You’re a mechanic, right?”

  Gregor was proud of that fact.

  “Good, then mechanic things.” Davis turned his finger to me. “You need to step it up, show them how it’s done.”

  “It’s not easy. They need practice. It’s not going to just come to them the first time they do it.”

  “I heard you figured it out on your first try.”

  That was different. I was chucked into the deep end and told to sink-or-swim. I almost argued that point when I remembered what my ‘mentor’ had told me. The key is just feeling it.

  “They’ll be out of the security bubbles tomorrow.”

  Davis was going to say something else but liked the sound of that. He gave me a nod of approval and looked the once immaculate bay over again before leaving he told us where to go for food and sleep.

  “We’ll start first thing in the morning.”

  Gregor waited until Davis left. “Did you feel it?”

  I shook my head.

  “They’re different, they have an additional axis point.”

  “No, it felt the same.”

  “They can fold.” He pointed to the drill runner. The line in the panels was clear-cut down the center. “See you can bring your head down and you legs up without affecting the orb.”

  “I don’t see a use for that when you would go head first if the shoot you were going through was too tight.”

  Gregor smiled, “I don’t think the drilling companies designed it for that. In fact I am almost certain I know what it is for.” Gregor was a big smile from his toes to his blockhead. He was teasing my curiosity. “Think about it.”

  “I’ve got nothing.”

  “The thing the drillers hate the most is when a drill-runner dies. Two things probably happen. One. They lose a drill cup. Two. They lose 10-90a that was mined. Now look, they installed a manual heart rate sensor. If you look here…” He pointed where my chest touched the driller-runner, “and here.” He pointed where my armpits landed in the front calibrators.

  “So the driller-runner throws either the drill cup or the 10-90a if the pilot dies.”

  “Yes, I think that’s it. I’d have to have someone’s pulse stop while they are piloting to be sure but…”

  “Why don’t you just use the Earthside Library? I’m sure the Colonials have access to news briefs on drilling designs.”

  Gregor hadn’t thought of that, so I got to wear the big smile this time and no one had to die.

  “The drill-runners that the Dessup Gang has, is it the same model.”

  “No, theirs are slightly older models. I don’t know if they have this feature.”

  “Can you think of a way to make this feature work in our favor?”

  “I can try.”

  6. POPPIN’ BUBBLES

  In the morning, all broken legs were healed, and all blood had returned to its appropriate flow. It wasn’t going to last for long, but I noticed there were a lot more officers like Millar who were listening with every bone in their body.

  I made Millar my guinea pig.

  “I want you to circle this bay without hitting any of the walls.”

  “Yes, sir,” he said. Millar laid on the drill-runner for a few seconds then looked up at me. “Aren’t you going to turn on the bubble?”

  I shook my head. “Why would I do that? It doesn’t seem to be helping you an
y.”

  The look of worry on his face was so priceless that I knew my bastard of a mentor had not given me the sink-or-swim method for my benefit, but for his own devilish delight.

  Millar waited for me to change my mind, then reluctantly obeyed my order. I heard the hearts of the other nine officers stop as Millar lifted the drill-runner off the ground. It wobbled in the air for a moment, then jerked forward a few feet at a time.

  There was a gasp as he suddenly shot forward. He made two perfect turns, but really botched the third.

  The bay was silent, but it felt like Colonial Officer Davis was screaming. He was the first to reach Millar and yanked him out of the drill-runner, which lurched forward before Millar was all the way out. It put a nice dent in the bay door.

  “Your mechanic better be quick because we just lost one drill-runner!”

  “Don’t worry about that,” I said. “The good news, Millar, is that you navigated 200 feet before you crashed. Most rookie drill-runners only make it 100 feet before they die. You’re above average.”

  Millar’s face slowly earned a smile once he was sure again that I was not messing with him.

  “I think I’m getting it, can I try again?” he asked.

  I pointed at another drill-runner. He pounced on it.

  I stopped watching Millar after about a minute. Instead I watched his impressed peers. He circled back and hovered next to me.

  “Can I keep going?”

  “Get all the practice you can.”

  He took off towards the ceiling and rolled and spun, increasing his speed as he whipped around.

  “Who’s next?”

  Two officers stepped forward and hopped into their drill-runners. They bumped into each other within a few seconds of take off, then after an easy lap around the perimeter of the bay, they too went up to where Millar still played around.

  “That’s a pretty big smirk there, Stryder. You think you’ve taught them enough not to get killed in the tubes?” Davis asked.