Space Ghost Stories

The engines were completely quiet.
Portia did realize the level of ambient noise the engine provided, a constant whirl in the background. The silence was terrible.
“What happened?” Bea’s voice was unnaturally high.
Portia examined the console. “It seems we’re out of gas.”
“That’s not possible.” Bea nervously tapped the gauge that registered fuel several times before kicking the console sharply. “Stupid fuel guzzling dinosaur. We had fuel efficient ships in my day.”
“You wanted seat warmers.”
“This is not my fault!”
Portia held out her hands in a sign of peace. “Are you okay?”
“No. No I’m not okay. Is it colder in here? I feel colder.”
Franklin entered the cabin. Portia wasn’t sure what he had been doing but he arrived looking pleased with himself. Probably brushing his hair. He asked, “What’s all the ruckus about? And why aren’t we going?”
“Out of fuel,” Portia said. “I told you Laredo was too far.”
“Nonsense. We’d have enough fuel if we didn’t have to waste so much on all that fancy flying exiting the atmosphere.”
Bea leapt out of her chair like a woman half her age. “All that fancy flying is the only way we were able to leave the atmosphere in a stolen ship without bringing the Guard down on us.”
Portia slid herself between Bea and Franklin, who look close to exchanging blows.
“We still have life support,” Portia said calmly. “And we are drifting in the direction of Laredo. We’re just not going to get there in five days. Isn’t this how space travel use to be? Trust off in one direction and only firing up the engine to maneuver?”
“I suppose. Plenty of air and light?”
“And food. Maybe we should have something to eat.”
Franklin sat down in the chair Portia vacated.
Portia lead Bea into the Galley. There she put on a kettle to boil water for tea and opened the refrigeration unit to what kind of provisions Franklin stocked up on. There seemed to be a large supply of sliced meats and fixings for sandwiches but not much else. Five days worth of sandwiches. Something was better than nothing, she supposed.
“Sorry I over reacted,” Bea said, buttering her bread.
“Don’t worry about it.” Portia assembled her sandwich and ate in comfortable silence.
Franklin hadn’t joined them yet; he was still in the cockpit. The thought of leaving him unattended at the controls made her nervous. Time to see what he was up to.
He was right where she left him, at the console.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Sending a message to Turkish, he needs to pick us up.”
“Your friend makes retrievals?”
“We can’t be the first ones to run out of fuel. Laredo is a ways out there. I’m sure he’ll be happy to bring us some fuel for a small price.”
“What kind of price?”
“With Turkish? Who knows?”
“How does one get the name of Turkish anyway?”
Franklin shrugged. “He’s not exactly the kind of guy you can ask.”
“Can’t wait to met the fellow.”
Bea poured the hot water into three cups, each with a sachet of tea. “Tell me a story,” she said.
“A story?” Portia asked dully.
“To take my mind off the situation. We did it all the time in the War Years. Passes the time, eases the nerves.”
“I know a good one,” Portia said.
“And not about the giant space squid that attaches itself to unsuspecting vessels, wraps its huge tentacles around the drifting ship, and squeezes it to pieces.”
“It’s a good story.” Portia accepted the cup of steaming cup and blew on the surface of the water.
“I’ll have nightmares,” Bea said. “Tell me a pleasant story. Something cheery.”
Portia stirred in a spoonful of water. She didn’t know any cheerful stories.
Franklin spoke, “Have you heard about Vlad Jetpack?”
Bea placed both her elbows on the table and leaned forward. “No, I have not.”
“This is a true story. I know because it happened to my cousin’s friend. Back in the early days of space travel, there was this ship. A scientific ship. Their mission was to explore brave new worlds and conduct pure research. This worked well for many years. The ship was self-sufficient and the crew hardly ever needed to dock for supplies, so they had long periods of time where the crew only had to worry about research. And this went on for many years. And this all happened before the War Years.
“The ship was gone for so long that when they did eventually drift back to Earth’s space they were unrecognizable. Their country of origin was no more. They did not have clearance.”
“What happened to them?” Bea asked.
“The ship was attacked. Something happened, though, something strange. Something…unexpected.”
Bea took a sip of her tea, her eyes never leaving Franklin’s face.
“There was a gas leak. Half of the crew died horribly, the other half…changed.”
“And this really happened?” Portia asked, her voice sharp with sarcasm.
“This really happened. The crew woke up to find themselves damned. They were nightmare creatures.”
“No,” Bea said.
“Yes. The survivors decided that to protect humanity from their monstrosity, they were going to push off in a direction away from Earth and never return. But they did elect to send out the least mutated survivor, a scientist named Vlad. Someone who could tell the tale, possibly send help. Of course, he’s a vampire. Horrible allergy to the light. Craves blood. So Vlad embarked on his never ending journey, a monster in a spacesuit with a jetpack.”
“How is that a never ending journey?” Portia asked.
“Because,” Franklin said, eyes solemn, “as Vlad drifts through space, the need for blood drives him mad. Every crew he encounters, he slaughters. He looses himself in bloodlust, only to come to his senses too late, knowing that his crew lost another opportunity for help.”
“He wears a space suit?” Portia asked.
“Yes.”
“How can he suck blood with the helmet on?”
“Well, obviously not when he’s wearing the helmet but after he’s been taken aboard, and then…bam! Decimates the crew. He leaves no calling card, just the ghost ships that drift through space. Salvagers occasionally stumble across the ships, empty, nothing inside but the blood splattered on the walls.”
Portia laughed. “He’s a vampire! What kind of self-respecting vampire splatters blood? Wasteful that is.”
“Can’t you just enough a simple story?” Franklin asked.
“A good, simple story, yes.”
“You have no suspension of disbelief.”
“You can’t tell a good story.”
“And you can do better?”
“As a matter of fact, yes,” Portia said, realizing that she couldn’t. She stood from the table and busied herself with preparing another cup of tea.
“Well,” Franklin said.
“Just a minutes. I need another cup of tea.”
“You’ve got nothing.”
“I’m preparing, mentally, for the task of story telling.”
Bea broke the bickering. “I’ve got a story,” she said.
Franklin and Portia turned towards her and said nothing.
“It happened a long time ago, back during the War Years. Life was hard back then. The city was crowded and everything was city. Did you know that the snow burned? Something to do with the air quality, snow and rain would eat right through your clothing if you stood outside like an idiot. We didn’t have enough to eat, ever, but we all had those little green computers, because that’s what we called data pads, computers, back then. Tiny little things made out of tough rubberized plastic. They ran on a hand crank. They were indestructible and every citizen had one. No one had food but we all had computers. Strange.
“I’m not sure what my father did to make money. I don’t think he had a job, strictly speaking. I was young, you know, but I do know Dad didn’t get up every morning to go to work like the other dads.
“Kate and I had to share a bed. We were lucky to have a bed. I knew lots of kids that slept on the floor. One morning Dad wakes me up, shakes my shoulder and tells me to keep quiet and get dressed. So I do.
“We take the Elevated. It seems like we rode it forever that day. What’s time to a child? An hour is like forever so I can’t say how long we rode but I do know that I fell asleep. What happens next I’ve never been able to decided on. Maybe I was sleeping, maybe it’s the imagination of a hungry child, built upon and elaborated over the years? I don’t know anymore.
“Dad wakes me up, we’ve arrived. I’m tired so he carries me. I’ve never seen this part of the city before. I think we must have gone south because it felt warmer. I was wearing a coat, it was cold in Philadelphia that morning, and now I was sweating. Must be south.
“We arrived at this church. A real old fashioned one, not the new Universal Truth jobs, but one with a steeple and a bell. It was noon. The bell was ringing. I counted.
“We go inside the church and the place is done up like there’s a wedding but there’s no people. Dad carries me down to the basement and we find all the people. It’s a party like I’ve never seen before with balloons and real flowers but I only have eyes for this cake.”
Bea closed her eyes. “Is it strange that I remember this cake perfectly? Like I saw it yesterday? Three tiers, square, ivory with white flowers made of spun sugar. The petals were so delicate, like glass, and the glistened. And the aroma…sugar and vanilla. It smelled like money. It smelled like people who never went hungry, who never had to eat algae.
“I don’t remember but my father said or did. He dropped me off at the cake and I just stood there, making big eyes at the love of my young life. At some point, he put a hand on my shoulder and walked me to the front of the room.
“There was this woman; I never saw someone so old before. She was in a wheelchair, shriveled up on herself, white hair as a thin and glassy as the flowers on the cake, and her eyes looked right at me. Scared me to bits.
“Dad pushed me forward. ‘Kiss your Aunt Mary,’ he said. But I didn’t want to because I didn’t know Aunt Mary and she was so horrible looking. The old woman, her mouth opened and I remember thinking what happened to all her teeth. She told me not to be such a fraidy cat; it wasn’t contagious. So I kissed her as quickly on the cheek as I could before running back to Dad.”
“And,” Portia prompted.
Bea shrugged. “I don’t know. I have no idea who Aunt Mary was or where we went. My father died not long after that. Eight days.”
“I’m sorry,” Franklin said.
“I think it may have been a deal gone bad and Dad took me there as protection. Can’t whack a guy with his little girl in the room.”
“He was murdered?”
“Fell down an elevator shaft, on to some bullets.”
“That’s terrible,” Portia said.
“Life was hard back then. The funny thing is, Kate doesn’t remember a day when she woke up and I wasn’t there. She doesn’t think I went anywhere but it seems so real, not a dream but like a memory. Real.”
“Who was Aunt Mary?” Portia asked.
“Don’t know. Terribly old, though. I remember she said her age wasn’t contagious but she was wrong. It is contagious. Everyone catches the old.”
Franklin broke the tension. “That was not a cheerful story,” he said.
“Never said it was.”
“But you demanded cheerful from us,” Portia said.
“And what did I get? Vlad Jetpack. Space rubbish. Honestly.”
Portia took another sip of the tea. It was cool enough to gulp now. “Do you believe in the Gorm?” she asked.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Bea said.
“Yes,” Franklin.
Bea turned and gave Franklin a scathing look. “The Gorm are nothing more than nightmare boogey men designed to frightened the unwashed masses.”
“I believe they’re real,” he insisted.
“Lizard men with pointy sticks in flying saucers?”
“Well, not the holo version, obviously. That’s just silly. Savage Gorm and Killer Savage Gorm. Good holos, by the way, but the universe is a big place. It’s just not possible we’re alone.”
“The whole idea is silly,” Bea said.
“I agree with Frankie,” Portia said.
“Not you! I thought you had some sense.”
“I have plenty of sense but he makes a good point. The universe is really big. It’s just not likely the Earth is the only place life developed.”
Bea scoffed. “Life developed on plenty of planets but Earth is the only planet with sentient life.”
“But the likelihood of that happening is astronomical,” Portia said.
“Yeah,” Franklin added, validating her argument.
“It’s not astronomical,” Bea said, “it’s actuality. We’ve been to lots of worlds and not one of them has shown any evidence of having sentient life, ever.”
“Maybe we just haven’t been to the right planet yet,” Franklin said.
“Don’t you think it’s a little odd,” Portia said, “that we have been to all these planets and we haven’t found signs of sentient life? None at all? It’s almost as if the Gorm are avoiding us.”
“No one’s avoiding us,” Bea said tartly. “The Gorm do not exist. They are nothing but the manifestations of the paranoia of a changing society, afraid of what it would find in the darkness of space.”
Portia snorted. “That’s sounds like something you heard on the vid.”
“Even if I did, it’s a valid point.”
“You’re just be narrow minded.”
“I’m being realistic.”
“Narrow minded.”
“You’re not too old to be sent to your room.” Despite her harsh words, Bea had a smile on her face. She loved a good fight.
“Are you afraid the Gorm are going to swoop out of the night’s sky and give you an anal probe?”
“That’s it, girlie, it’s on.”
“And then impregnated you with their alien lizard babies? I bet those pointy sticks must really hurt from the inside of the womb.” Portia couldn’t keep a straight face, she was laughing.
“You’re grounded,” Bea said.
“Funny, you didn’t ground me for stealing a ship. I don’t think I can accept you as an authority on this matter.”