Terror in Zero-G

I’ve neglected this journal the past few weeks but I definitely feel the need to keep you up to date with all the strange happenings around the old lighthouse. 

It was coming up to Halloween and all across the galaxy humans were getting ready to dress up as aliens, and aliens were getting ready to dress up as humans. Honestly I’ve always adored this time of year. It’s the time for strong dark beer, woolly jumpers and crackling fires. All loves of mine. 

I’d been racking my brains trying to think of a good costume. I considered all the old favourites, werewolves, zombies, hellspawn from the ninth dimension. But none of them really grabbed my attention. This year I wanted something special. Of course I always say that. Every year I fantasize about constructing an amazingly elaborate costume, only at the last minute to cobble something together out of bin bags, cereal boxes and sticky tape.

For instance, last Halloween I decided I’d go as a robot, but not any old tin man, no no no that would be far too easy. I wanted to be some kind of high tech mecha-king with flashing lights, pneumatic legs and a fully functional jet-pack. I spent about a half an hour tinkering away in the garage before I threw a sheet over my head, said I was a ghost and called it a day.

The truth is, I enjoy fantasizing about a good party far more than I actually enjoy attending them. In theory they’re joyous events full of laughter, mirth and friendship. In practice they’re crowded, loud and someone inevitably gets sick on your best sheet. Before I know it, I’m pining for a warm bed, a cup of tea and a good night’s rest.

But this year I was determined to make a real go of it. I sat in my miniature arboretum racking my brains. The ground was covered in red leaves fallen from a solitary tree from my home-world. As I stared at the bare, thorny branches I drifted back to my childhood and suddenly it hit me.

I would be Chromium Dex, Space Rogue, Pirate, Heartbreaker, Lifetaker and Wanderer amidst the Stars.

When I was a young lad back on Urth, Chromium Dex was just about the most popular kids show on television. His adventures beamed weekly around the solar system. The format was always the same, pretty much. Dex would touch down on some strange planet, become acquainted with the locals and their plight, and by the end of the episode he’d have bedded a princess or two, blasted a tyrant and set off again, searching for the center of the universe.

When I think of it now Chromium Dex is probably why I got interested in the great black yonder to begin with. Okay, so a lighthouse isn’t exactly a silver starfighter but you can’t always get what you want in this life. The best thing about the costume was that it was remarkably achievable for the spaceman on a budget.

I did the boots first. Chromium’s were a bit more ruggedly militaristic but with some superglue and a few old belt buckles my wellingtons were transformed. A wet-suit and a holster sufficed for his figure hugging bodysuit. The helmet I made by attaching some sunglasses to a bike helmet, affixing a fin on top and then spray painting the whole thing cherry red.

I might not have cut as dashing a figure as Mr.Chromium but with my gut sucked in I was sure I could woo a galactic princess or two if the need arose. Picasso doubled as Galaxian Rex, Chromium’s trusty alien pooch. I don’t know which the cat enjoyed less, the green leotard or the suggestion he was now a dog.

On the food front I laid out a great spread. A big bag of monkey nuts, two bowls of fun-size chocolate bars and three entire liters of full fat, high caffeine, sugar loaded Quantum Cola.

I even fished out the basin so we could bob for apples. I encouraged Picasso to join in, he pawed the apples around the water for a minute and then looked up at me as if to say is that it? As was custom I accidentally ate the ring in the barmbrack.

Around eight we settled in for the evening’s entertainment. A triple threat of terrific terror. Fear is the 4th Dimension, Space Vampires from Phobos and last but not least, Beast of the Black Hole. I turned off the lights and Picasso climbed up on my belly. Eerie music filled the Lighthouse.

Deep Space. A solitary craft approaches an enormous derelict ship. No signs of life Captain. They dock, flashlights out, it’s obvious something terrible has happened. No, don’t split up you fools, you’re in a dimension of fear.

We were just getting to the good bit when a beeping came from the computer in the corner. I threw Picasso off me and rushed over in my Chromium Dex outfit to investigate.

Hmmmm, it was a distress signal, barely two clicks out, in Galactic terms, right on top of me. Radar sweep told me it was a Centium-Z, a small cargo vessel. No registered owner. Strange but not unheard of. I pressed the radio button.

“Hello, hello, this is Valentia Station, come in. Over.”

There was nothing. A squawk of interference followed by a long, low groaning sound, like a voice trying to take shape out of the ether. It sent a chill down my spine and I could see Picasso wasn’t too pleased about it either.

“Come in, Come in. Please state the nature of your emergency.”

Nothing. Comms went dark. I stroked my heroic chin and paced back and forth pondering the best course of action. There was only one.

Down in the hangar sat my little junk beetle. It was mainly designed for herding asteroids around or doing repairs to the outside of the tower, but tonight when I pulled the dusty sheet off it was transformed into Chromium Dex’s starfighter, The Kwantum Bikini. I climbed in and put the moggy in the backseat.

With a quick press of my fob the hangar doors trundled open before us. A switch here and a switch there and my pulse engine began to rumble with power. Dials glowed before me fantastically. I pointed the nose of the fighter into space and gripped the flight controls.

“Hang on to your whiskers little buddy”

I put the pedal to the metal and we…well we didn’t exactly shoot out like a speeding silver bullet. More like can that’s been kicked down an alleyway. There was a shower of sparks, a puff of smoke and off we went. I banked sharply and took us in a spin up around the Lighthouse, it was exhilarating stuff. When we’d reached the apex I engaged the pulse drive.

Zoooooom.

As we rattled forwards, barely able to hear our own thoughts, my mind was on the mission. I couldn’t help but wonder what we might find on that mysterious craft. Space is a strange place and unspeakable terrors dwell in its infinite cloak of darkness. Astro-Zombies, Eldritch Horrors and Biological Nightmares are de rigueur at this point. It was too late to turn back though, ahead of me the Centium-Z had come into view. It was listing badly to the side and some loose pipes hung from it like entrails. All along its hull the portholes were dark. Nothing at all stirred.

I zoomed in under to get a better look. The only signs of life were the flashing red distress beacon and the cargo doors, lying open like a hungry mouth.

Carefully I nosed into the open hangar and set the craft down. I pulled down my visor. Oxygen engaged. We climbed down into the gloomy, chilly hangar. Beneath us the ground crunched and cracked, a burst pipe somewhere had turned the whole floor to ice and it sparkled like a reflection of the stars beyond.

Trying not to slip I made my way over to the shipping console against the wall and tapped in. There was still some backup power in it. I could find no crew manifest, nor a shipping inventory. But I was able to download a radar map of the craft to my digital watch. It appeared on the watch-face as green lines on black and as it swept across the room it told me that there was nothing alive, or nothing moving at least. I activated the torch on my helmet, unholstered my blaster and spun the dial to incinerate. We advanced into the dark heart of the craft.

Beyond the hangar was crew quarters. Room after room my torch beam found empty beds, drawers pulled out, clothes scattered on the floor. Whoever was here left in a hurry that’s for sure. Ice and steel continued to groan beneath us. Were these Chromium Dex’s actual boots I might have initialized a special ‘sneak’ mode or something similar. Alas my wellies lacked any such feature. Likewise, my blaster was merely a children’s toy. For sure it had real ‘light up action’ and made an impressive zap sound but it was essentially useless against any monster not allergic to foam darts.

Realizing how hopelessly unequipped I was I couldn’t help but dwell on what grotesqueries would cause a crew to abandon ship so suddenly. It was a horror I imagined, so unspeakably abominable that to even look upon it would drive you out of your mind. You certainly wouldn’t be able to finish your dinner.

What worried me just as much was that, if there truly was no crew here, then who sent the distress call? The radar on my watch continued its sweep and the only two green dots that registered were me and Picasso.

We were finally approaching the bridge when I saw the cat sniffing at something on the floor. A gaping hole, burned right through the deck, with a glistening sludge all around it.

“Get back” I immediately hissed at Picasso. “It’s undoubtedly some kind of hydrosulphuric acid. Whatever creature stalks these derelict corridors must be using it as blood, or alternatively, spraying it from its eyes.”

I turned the dial on the blaster from incinerate to obliterate. There was no higher setting. We’d reached max blast. Our only hope was that this hell spawn bore a crippling phobia of foam. The situation was undoubtedly dire but my heroic resolve only hardened. This wouldn’t be the last time Chromium Dex faced mortal danger. The mystery of the abandoned ship must be solved and the survivors, if there were any, had to be rescued and possibly bedded.

We’d reached the doors of the bridge now. They were half open, frozen in the moment that the ship had lost power. Here the acid was worse than ever, it made slug trails across the floor and dripped menacingly from the ventilation shafts. I surmised that must be how the creature was travelling unseen, how it had picked off the crew one by one without them gaining the upper hand.

Beyond the doors was a large semi-circular room with banks of silent dials and controls. The captains chair was facing away from me. I approached with trepidation wondering would I find, a frozen skeleton, grinning and blue. Disappointingly, it was empty. 

I plugged into central control.

Whatever they were hauling wasn’t listed. Smugglers maybe, carrying some genetically modified monster that had got loose. The black box itself was password protected. It was a mystery, a dead end. The only thing left to do was haul it in and wait for salvage. I sighed and got to work. I had just started rebooting the systems when an alarming beep issued forth from the radar on my watch. The breath went out of me as I looked down. Someone or something was advancing up the corridor towards us. I realized this had been the plan all along, to corner us in this room and tear us limb from limb. How had we been so naive? Beep beep beep went the radar like nails in our coffins. I desperately hammered the button to lock the doors but power had still not reached this part of the ship. This was it, the final standoff, the moment of truth. I raised the blaster and pointed it towards the opening where death approached with grim inevitability. My heart thumped in my chest, blood pounded in my ears. Beep beep beep. The green dot was on us now.

“There” I screamed. Glowing flesh, bulging eyes, acid dripping from its jaws. 

I fired. 

Gloopers are endemic on swampy planets. They’re a kind of sentient blob of jelly about the same size and shape as an upturned bucket. With two googly eyes and two stubby tentacles they’re actually kind of cute. They’re totally harmless of course but rather annoying as they do leave these trails of gloop everywhere they go. Ships usually pick up a few when they set down anywhere marshy.

When we got back to the Lighthouse Glooper settled in to his new home in no time at all, much to Picasso’s chagrin.

As for the Centium-Z. I secured it to the outside of the lighthouse. With the benefit of lights and power it was a lot easier to search. Still, I found no signs of crew and the records had been deleted. My opinion that it was smugglers was stronger than ever. The hole in the floor that I took to be acid turned out to be nothing more than casual rust and neglect. There was some charts of systems I didn’t recognize and a journal, filled with strange unreadable writing. But that was it, I’m no alien linguist.

I put in a request for haulage and a week later some men from the Galactic Lighthouse Society came by to pick it up. I wish I could say that was the end of the story, but it turned out to only be the beginning. If I’d known all the trouble it was going to cause, I might never have bothered.