Elron Ahura - Space Detective 2369 AD - Chapter 3 - 'The Synthetic Man'
Continuing storyline: Elron had just barely managed to escape an awkward situation concerning a losing bet on a comet race, as much as he would like to stick around Billy's Mexican and order another taco, he had a job to do......
Our tale begins in the future, many moons from today. Mars has been colonized! Titan of Saturn is also a colony; Jupiter’s moon Enceledus is a holiday resort destination and Pluto a research and development Laboratory. Several trading posts are located throughout the Solar System, from Neptune heading towards the outer reaches of the Oort cloud.
Earth is dead. Decimated from the A.I. Wars of the early 2000s. Only a handful of pocketed areas remain habitable. Yet, Earth is still considered prime real estate and the 139 year old clean up project is going well. Tacos, are also far more popular now than they have ever been before.
The Orca X1 is a galactic space tank. She was commissioned during the Ring Wars of 2132 when the Titans made an offensive stand on Saturn. Us humans ventured deep into the orbit of the ringed planet, assuming that if there was any life - intelligent or otherwise - it wouldn’t be considered a serious threat. Instead, we placed our naive faith on an empty alien world, to potentially harbour an abundant planetary quarry of commodities. We were ineptly unaware that Saturn was inhabited by a race of giant red beings, who took threat of invasion quite seriously.
History tells us that the Ring Wars lasted all but one week. The Orca was engineered from an Armada class salvage vessel, into a weaponized BattleMod behemoth and the warfare was fierce. As best the humans retaliated against the onslaught of the Titanus War Machine, it was futile. The advanced technology and physically stronger Titans were difficult to contain. Our Earth Core Alliance of Humans, Greys and Reptilians yielded in humbling fashion. The giants were hailed on the con and we requested a cease fire, to which the Titans found amusing. For them, the ECA were as threatening as a vegan mugger holding a bagel, piloting our crude machines that were unable to StarJump into galactic exploration. They viewed our thick-brained technology as redundant, brutal ancient rockets powered by hybrid fossil fuel Tesla drives. It was all rather play school tech for the, Ring Makers of Saturn.
My, errr... distant associate, Thrall, he's from Titan. One of the moons of Saturn. Instead of oxygen their atmosphere is mostly methane. As a result of an evolutionary trait from breathing the volatile gasses, their pupils brighten to a fiery red when angered. Firefly eyes, a scientific wonder of nature. A bi-product of this physical adaptation is helium gas, secreted through tiny follicles in their lungs, all six of them. If they stay angry for too long, their vocal range shifts its frequency from a rumbling baritone to high pitched soprano. Peewee voice, a comedic foresight of nature.
During the first ever Trial for humans which related directly to the Ring Wars, the Galactic Hall of Justice was overcrowded with angry Titans. The ear rupturing audible was unbearable. A thousand furious voices squealing loudly. It was like attending a Chipmunks concert full of ravenous red rodents averaging a towering height of eight feet. If it wasn't for their timely sense of humour and microbial attention span, the human colonies of Mars would've been decimated long before any trial. It would've been a tragic outcome... One could say, the trial was a catalyst towards the formation of a galactic union. How embarrassing, that our first close encounter with an off-world Alien, happened to be us, wanting to mine their jurisdiction within the solar system, typical.
Before heading back to the Orca I've one final task, search for a Quarter Master. There weren’t many candidates around, seeing as a few weeks ago MineCorp set forth public a claim on an asteroid primarily composed of platinum. There was shortage of stock in locating skilled and loyal crew, but I'm pleased to hear, Thornbrook - a skilled navigator and pilot - was still shuffling around the neighbourhood. I was quick to forget the embarrassing taco on boobies incident at Billy’s Mexican a few moments ago, involving Royce and Thrall… it's best to focus my attentions on the job at hand. Was good to see Royce, but awkward dealing with Thrall.
I walked briskly through the cold, smoke-choked streets on my way to recruit Thornbrook, who happened to be home and not slamming shots at a cheap pissing hole somewhere. Astonishing. He quite enjoys tea, english breakfast to be precise. Assuming he wants to be quarter master at all? Perhaps tea, would bring some comfort in helping him make the right decision.
His apartment wasn't far from Billy’s, I entered a rusty brown building and pressed the sticky button for the elevator. As it opened, two Greys slithered out in silence. Always silent, a Hitchcock aura resonates from their presence. Big, deep, black eyes. A short, lanky, pinkish body with bulbous head and tiny nostrils resting high above a minuscule mouth. They cant whistle. No lips. Crypto finds this hilarious. They love Shia Labouff movies and dislike cats. Greys and Synthetics find a common kinship due to their similar - but time displaced - origin of species.
“Thornbrook!” I called in a booming voice, rapping on the door of the apartment with my recently upgraded graphenium arm. That's right. Graphenium cyborg.
“Is that ye Ahura?”
“Who else would it be walking into this rat infested building? Open up, Toby.”
“A've mentioned mony times, dae nae ca' me Toby ye pumpin' ignoramus. Hard is it tae ca' me by deserved title is it Ahura? Thornbrook th' Rid. A've gey muckle deserved it.” spoken quite sternly.
“Righto sorry about that, Thornbrook the Red it is. Open the door will ya, I haven’t got all day.”
The thick plated barrier wooshed up into the archway and Thornbrook was standing across the hall clutching a bong and exhaling that sweet, beautiful Herb of Mother Earth. Truly, the finest medicine in all the Universe.
“Mah, mah. Howfur barry, ye'v brough me some cuppa. Dae come ben. Wid ye care tae partake in some holy smoke fae oor laird Jah?”
I followed him inside as he went ahead into the kitchen - a grill and an electric kettle - to brew some tea. His apartment was suffocating and damp, a typical gloomy cubicle. Neon signs on the street flickered through the window, it began to rain. Old paint was flaking off the walls. There was a rustic projector hanging from the ceiling showing KungFu movies on the opposite side of the room where a dusty terrarium sat alone in the corner, blue hermit crabs. Above his bed was a poster of a geisha in red robes, painted white face and red lips.
Thornbrook, is an interesting case. He suffers from an acute form of Dissociative Identity Disorder, acquired from physical trauma. When he was 18 years old Thornbrook aspired to become a thespian, an actor. While performing as an extra in a play about infamous swashbuckling pirate William Kidd, a stage light broke off its mounts and fell to earth, introducing itself to the cranium of, Thornbrook the Red before crashing to the floor. The character in play, was a 17th century Scottish pirate... Toby - his real name - has been stuck in this persona ever since the accident. Rarely, does his teenage psyche show himself, not nearly as colourful as his alter ego. However, unlike Toby, Thornbrook is unaware of the other's existence.
”Th' cuppa is crakin'. A'm ower fond o' cuppa. Th' cuppa in Nassau wis mingin'. Th' whiskey even worse. Whit brings ye tae mah dwelling Captain Ahura?"
“Bounty Thornbrook, of the likes you could not ever imagine! Stretching as far as the eye can see, across the black oceans of space and time. Up there, in the Heavens.” I point out the window towards the night sky.
*”Bounty ye say mah mukker? Aye, I’ve heard th' tales be true. Thare be gold in th' sky, waiting tae be plucked by a'body brave enough tae venture intae th' black...”
Toby was looking out the window staring into the night, a pondering finger on his chin, left arm crossed across his chest. In the far distance above the horizon, a blue comet streaked behind the clouds. There was silence… then he farted. Toby has gastric problems. Lucky he’s a pirate and not a ninja.
“Aye Red, we shall venture into the black upon my mighty ship, the Orca. A powerful star-cruiser that will take us to the farthest reaches of the galaxy. She be ready to fly, but I need a crew. Are you up for this task, Quarter Master?
I sipped my tea, keeping my nose close to the brew as to avoid the thick stench lingering around the tiny, tiny apartment.
”Ah accept yer noble quest Captain Ahura, wi' me by yurside thare wull be na stopping us. Scourge o' th' Nine Blocks! Howfur mony recruits tae enlist dae ah ask? Ten, fifteen?”
“Ahem… just one.”
”One! Whit urr ye saying captain, oor quest seems underhanded does it nae? We ur surely sailing thro' dangerous quadrants ur we not?”
Thornbrook seemed disappointed. He put his tea down on the bar top and looked out the window again… deeply troubled. Silent.
“Tob… errr, Thornbrook, this journey is of a clandestine importance. We must operate away from the eyes of corporate monsters and the interests of the Empire. Do you see now, why I have chosen you? It is not the first time, it will not be the last.”
I placed my hand on Toby’s shoulder, gripping firmly, peering deep into his eyes with great conviction. There was an awkward silence... he farted again.
”Gey weel mah Captain, a'm at yer service!" his smile was bright, literally. I could see my reflection on his two gold teeth. "Kin ah ask guid sur, wha shall be Chief o' Arms? It's an important quaistion tae ask na?”
“It be Royce. But, I need to persuade her first.”
And with this mutual understanding between us, I took a last sip of my tea, wrote Toby some detailed instructions and exited the apartment as my eyes began to water, left wondering if his nasal cavity was still working.
One week passes and Thornbrook arrives at the space-port with a new crew mate. Vulkanos, an engineer, tech hound and explosives expert hailing from the planet Plume in the Proxima Centauri system 4.2 light years away. Seeing as Thornbrook the Red was a well known character around these parts - and his condition was public - other folks came to understand what he meant when explaining job offers. Vulkanos was between work, and he knew from experience there was decent chance of striking treasure when hired on an Armada Class vessel.
The Plumenese species are a proud race of scientists and monks. They’ve managed to combine the main principles of technology and spirituality, into a harmonious ideology governed by State and Church. There are no wars on Plume, there is only one control. The Don. A mind hive-agency governing all affairs into a perfect cog-work of balance, tranquility and wisdom. It was they, who reached out to a planet called Earth. It was they who sent scout ships to Titan, swiftly rallying their vote in halting the Titanus assault on the ECA during the Ring Wars.
The Plumenese are kind, gentle folk, righteous and willed. Yet with all their achievements and advanced technological dominance, the species are constantly depressed. They will cry at any given moment. The deep, somewhat blues trumpet sensitivity of the citizens from Plume, is an enigma. If a magical unicorn had sex with a care bear and gave birth to a melancholic, grotesque love ball... that woeful child would be a Plumenese. They rarely take negative criticism well.
“How are you Vulkanos? Pleasure to meet you. Ive heard about your engineering exploits during the build of a Dyson Sphere around a dwarf star. Ingenious work.”
”I thank you Captain Ahura. I too have heard and are impressed by your 'past' exploits, Detective. It gives me monumental pleasure to serve under you. I extend my gratitude with an offering, it is customary of my people.”
Vulkanos presented a damp object wrapped in newspaper. I opened it and was gifted with a salmon. He froze there, eyes glazed as a tuck shop donut, looking anxious… eagerly waiting a positive reply.
“No, I thank you Vulkanos of the Plumenese. Your engineering skills and spectacular choice of fish pleases me greatly. We shall feast tonight. Come, let us go inside and prep for departure.” I usher Vulkanos towards the ship.
“Thornbrook!!”
”Aye mah captain, a'm standing behind ye. That's a gusty loking aquatic morsel ye hae. Whit's it tuna?”
“Salmon. What do you think of a garlic sauce fish broil with mashed potatoes for dinner?”
”Aye captain, indeed its a sound idea. We’ve git enough neeps tae lest us a few months oot in th' black. Whaur is Royce?”
Royce. She never did return my calls. Guess the taco on her breasts didn’t go so swell… But for now, it was of little import, my selfish interest for wanting her around was simply because, I like her. The fact that she’s an assassin who can snipe a fly from a 1000 yards, is a bonus.
“She aint gonna make it Toby. It seems, other matters have engaged her interest. We’re gonna sail solo without a Chief of Arms. Not much threat where we’re going, a little asteroid I heard about from an old friend. Only the Gryphons know about it, so as long as we stay clear of them, we gonna be fine.”
“Gey weel captain Ahura, then let us set sail 'n' please refrain fae cawin me Toby. Ah ken nae wha this is?”
I chuckled and pointed towards the ship. Toby marched inside, whistling a catchy sea-fairing tune. Artisan mining was outlawed in certain quadrants, but where we were going was a pocket of space between two solar systems deep in uncharted territory. It was an opportunity too good to pass and much treasure was to be mined and auctioned on the commodities black market. My crew and I are gonna have a bunch of Steem if we play our cards right!
Crypto was already on board and we were primed for take-off. It was gonna to be a lengthy period of time in deep space, but I enjoy the solitude out amongst the stars. A simple mission, for some quick creds. Hopefully this job comes off without any problems, not like last time. Not sure if my stomach can handle another trip through a damaged worm hole. What am I saying? I'm traveling with a talking dog, a pirate and a warrior-monk cry baby. What could possibly go wrong?
END
Did you miss the first two chapters of The Synthetic Man? Have no fear traveler, the internets is a wonderful place to visit.
Ahura Returns Next Week In - "Murder of Doctor Roboto"
This is the end of our first story about Elron Ahura! A Space Opera series dedicated to the old Sci-Fi Dime novels of yesteryear! Tales inspired by the Golden Era of Sci-Fi during the 1930s - 1950s
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