Helium3 Box Set

HELIUM 3

  Omnibus

  By Nick Travers

  COPYRIGHT

  Nick Travers has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Visit the Nick Travers at

  www.NickTravers.com

  Book 1

  HELIUM 3.0

  By Nick Travers

  Chapter 1

  Mervyn scrambled into his spacesuit, grabbed his helmet, and hefted his holdall.  He had to keep moving, doing something, anything.  If he stopped, even for a fraction, to think what he was about to do, fear might get the better of him.  He tried to focus on tightening the suit’s seals instead of the jump.

  Loren stomped after him, "Do we have to jump?  Isn't there another way to transfer ships?"  Mervyn shrugged.  'Well I'm not jumping if there's no safety line,’ she declared.  On the spaceship’s main screen, in the control room, the transfer ship had grown in size.  It was almost upon them, though, it still looked minuscule compared to the trader.

  "Helmets on," The trader squeaked opening the inner door of the airlock.  Mervyn saw immediately that they had a problem.  "Oh no, not a gravity net," Loren cried.  "I hate gravity nets.  Can't you rig up a connecting tube?"   Mervyn could feel his stomach fluttering with nervousness, he hated gravity nets too, but he wasn't about to let on to Loren.

  "Time 'eez money,"  the trader rasped.

  Loren's thick eyebrows scowled into the trader's blank eyes, "What if I fall between the ships?"

  "Gravity net 'eez quickest way to transfer you."

  But that wasn't the problem.

  Mervyn stepped between them, Loren was spoiling for a fight, but in her nervousness she still hadn't spotted it - maybe he could hustle her into the airlock before she noticed.  There was no way he was going to miss out on a place at the Academy because Loren would not jump ships, 'If you fall the catchers will hook you in, Loren,' he said, and deliberately stared into her eyes - he had read somewhere that direct eye contact creates trust and confidence. 'We'll do it together.’

  She nodded uncertainly, ‘Ok.’

  "Please try not to fall,' the trader drawled, ' eet takes far too long to retrieve you.  Time..."

  "I know," Mervyn sighed.  "Time is money."

  The trader's focus on money was unnerving Loren again, "But what if a meteor hits me or the pirates return or something?"

  The trader stroked a panel beside the door, with a knobbly finger, producing a graphic showing a swirling tunnel of energy tying the trader and the dart together.  He pointed to streaks above and below the swirl, "The gravity net, eet deflects everything around it.  Radiation levels, zey are normal."

  Loren knew the technical details, of course, she was just scared.  She treated the trader to another withering frown, which it ignored.

  Mervyn snapped on his helmet and stepped into the airlock hoping Loren would follow.  She did.

  He kept her busy checking the seals on each other's suits:  it was second nature to check his buddy's space equipment.  He waited nervously for the air lock to shut behind them, then forced himself to stand still while the air around them evacuated with a chill hiss.  His natural inclination was to pace around when nervous, but he knew if he showed any sign of fear Loren would back out, and he needed her to jump.

  He felt the pull of the gravity net even before the outer door snapped opened.  He held on to the wall to steady himself and looked down.  Nothing.  Nothing for thousands of light years.  It was worse than looking over a cliff, if he fell out there he would fall forever, and when the heater in his suit packed up he would freeze down to absolute zero almost instantly.

  Then Loren spotted the problem,  "No safety line," her thoughts screamed through the bionet link surgically implanted into their heads -- the best way to communicate in a vacuum.  She was right, nothing visible linked the door they stood in to the dart flying alongside.

  ‘Too late to go back now, Loren,’ he thought and he could tell by the resigned slump of her shoulders that she knew it too.  A circular hole, slightly smaller than the one they stood in opened in the dart's side and two suited figures hung out ready to catch them.  Star light twinkled off the dart's hull.

  Mervyn swallowed hard and reached for his kit-bag.  Graphics were fine, but there was no way he was chancing the gravity net until he knew it was really there.  He threw the bag over first-- just to make sure.  It spun across like a propeller until one of the catchers caught it and dragged it into the dart. 

  Loren's throw was less accurate and her bag bounced about until it stuck halfway, spinning around between the two spaceships as though caught in a whirlpool.  One of the catchers hooked it in with a long pole.  Mervyn saw the look of dread on Loren's face and knew she was imagining being hooked in herself.  A gravity net's spin made it almost impossible to achieve any sort of graceful landing -- he usually ended up in an ungainly heap. 

  "I'll go first," Mervyn thought into his biolink.

  'No.  I don't want to stay here on my own,' Loren replied.

  'Then we'll go together,' he said and grabbed her hand.  She smiled nervously through her visor and gripped him tightly - if they were not wearing thick gloves he was sure she would have crushed his hand.

  'We'll go on three,' he said, taking a deep breath and fixing his gaze on the catchers.  If only the net was visible it would be less like throwing yourself into oblivion.  'One,' he bent his knees ready to jump, 'two,' a thought flashed across his mind, 'what would happen if he jumped and Loren didn't?'  He pushed the thought away: best not to think about it, 'three.'’

  As though diving into a swimming pool, Mervyn launched himself into space.  He thought he might feel some drag from Loren, but they were weightless.  All he could feel was her vice-like grip, their one link with reality. They spun, like their bags.  Mervyn tried to focus on the catchers, but everything whirled into a dizzy blur. 

  Suddenly, someone grabbed his arm and he crashed to the deck.  He fumble blindly for a hand-hold, his gloved fingers working their way over the surface of the airlock for anything that would anchor him to the dart; anything to stop himself floating away again.