Short Story the First: "Just Another Day"

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Just Another Day

by Ian McCombs

 

Harold looked down the long metal air vent and started his long crawl toward the bomb. He woke up this morning only wishing he could have a boring day like his brother. His brother the accountant lived back on Earth. Instead, Harold had gone to mechanical engineering school after his stint in Space Force Special Forces. When the first mobile space station had gone live, they wanted him bad and pulled him out of retirement. He sighed.

            He was wearing a new battle armor space suit made by engineer Allisun. He had just enough time to slip it on and zip it shut as the Insectoid Empire attacked the station. The hive mind controller had captured Allisun and his young intern Carl. The hive mind had killed everyone they could find. The hive mind was waiting to hear Harold's death scream before he killed them.

            He passed a thermal vent that was malfunctioning from the space battle around the station. He had destroyed twenty four ships himself in the fire fight. As the ship landed in the landing bay, he had killed hundreds of the insects. He shielded his face as flames licked off of his suit. He wished he had his helmet, but there wasn't time. He put his hands over the vent to keep his face from melting. The burning air singed off most of his beard until only rough stubble remained.

            “I'm past the thermal vent. It gave me a close shave,” he said as he clicked on his comms.

            “Oh, Commander Strikeman, be careful!” Allisun yelled into the command deck comms.

            He heard Carl growling and the hive mind laughing. He crawled toward the thermal fan which was whirling in front of him like four scythe's begging to lop his head from his shoulders. He pulled his long wrench from his tool belt. He looked at the air vent's metal frame cut through from the spinning blades that flashed from the klaxon lights. He had to time it right. He counted down.

            One. Two Three! He shoved his long wrench into the metal air vent and the blade cut deep into its thick shaft. He heard a horrible screech as the fan motor ground to a half. He crawled past the metal death blades as smoke billowed into the air vent from the burning motor. He grabbed his long wrench from the other side and pulled it loose. Blades sucked air back and he slipped toward the trap. He splayed his boots into the metal air vent and squeaked to a stop. The fan pulled his hair up and sliced his unkempt locks off.

            “Just passed the air intake, I got the hair cut you wanted,” he growled.

            “What do you think you can accomplish, Commander Strikeman? The Insectivore Empire will not be impeded by your actions!” the hive mind said through the comms.

            “Don't listen to him, Butch! I know you can do it. Don't listen to this roach brain,” Carl yelled.

            Carl always had the jokes or a quick taunt. He called Harold by Butch because he was tenacious like Carl's dog he left back on Earth. The name had stuck. Harold crawled until the air vent came to the trash compactor.

            Two giant hammers stomped the trash as it passed the air vent. Harold frowned and held his nose. Blood and body parts passed him on the trash belt as it rolled by his face. The robots didn't care that they were ejecting the dead crew into space. They only cleaned. He flipped his long wrench and pulled out his regular wrench. He waved them both in his hands and watched the trash hammers to gauge their timing.

            He saw an empty, but bloody helmet pass him on the belt. He started to reach for it, but the hammers crashed together smashing it to dust. He snarled as the hammers pulled apart. He threw caution to the wind and ignored trying to time the hammers. He jammed his long wrench between the hammers and pulled himself through with his trusty wrench. He was almost through as he watched his long wrench bend. The notch from the fan made it slowly bend. He cleared his feet through and the hammers bent it into a short wrench. He shook his head watching it fall, lost into the trash.

            He looked ahead and saw the bomb. The timer was ticking down from one minute left. He crawled toward it. As he did, his flash light started flickering. He growled and hit the blasted thing until it worked. He got to the bomb and put the flashlight in his mouth. He chewed it like the cigar he had started this morning.

            He looked at the timer and control panel. There were too many wires. They are all the same color. He sneered at the bomb.

            “I'm at the bomb, but all the wires are the same,” he growled as his throat caught from the smoke still running past him in the vent.

            “Oh no, Commander! I believe in you! Whatever you choose will work!” Allisun said breathlessly.

            “You got this Butch! Smash these bugs!” Carl yelled.

            “A clever ploy, don't you think, Commander? I'll be happy to take the Insect Empress any message you'd like as you die,” the hive mind cackled.

            Harold looked at the bomb and noticed the wiring housing was only a cover for the bomb's inner workings. It was actually run by gears, counting down the timer. He smiled and looked at his old friend, his wrench.

            As the time ticked down from ten, he laughed into his comms, “You were right kid!”

            He smashed the bomb as hard as he could.

            Five... he broke through the harness.

            Four... he broke through the false wires.

            Three... he smashed one set of gears until they stopped moving.

            Two... he dug his wrench tooth into a gear and bent it in half.

            One... and the bomb stopped ticking.

            He smiled and rolled over on his back. As he did, he heard a curse from below him and a plasma rifle shoot into the air vent. The air vent buckled and fell. He slid back toward the trash hammers as he slid down the air vent. Then, as the vent broke free from its housing, he fell from the vent onto a mass of chitinous flesh. He raised up his wrench in reflex as a pincer swung at him. He smashed the pincer which dropped a plasma rifle. The hive mind insectoid howled at him.

            Harold kicked the hive mind and it fell back against the outer hatch of the command deck airlock. Harold heard something break above him and he stepped back. The air vent clanged in front of him, but the bomb fell into his hands. He laughed once and smiled at the hive mind. He bent the gear back into place, turned it back twenty seconds, and threw it at the hive mind.

            “Give my regards to the Empress,” he said as the hive mind caught the bomb.

            “And give my regards to empty space!” Carl said and pressed the airlock override.

            The hive mind screamed as it was blown out into space. It flew out into space screaming at the bomb in its hands. Engineer Allisun dove into his arms and wrapped her arms around his neck. She pulled him in for a kiss as the light from the explosion played over their faces.

            The hive mind was dead. The station was saved. He heard comms checking in as several dozen people came out from hiding and cheered for their victory. He looked down at Carl who game him a thumbs up.

            Later that night, after a shower where Allisun joined him, he sat down at his desk. He cut the burnt end from the cigar he had started. He lit it back up and smiled. Allisun smiled in his bed. He touched the button on his computer. He called his brother.

            “Harold! Hey, I heard about what happened. You sure are a...”

            “Little brother, I don't want to talk about it. This happens every other day here in the frontier of space. I don't want to think about it. How are the girls doing?” he asked.

            His brother nodded at him and smiled.

            “Well, this morning we couldn't find the kitty and that was a major catastrophe. We found the kitten inside of her clothes hamper. But then, the little one couldn't find her rain boots, you know the blue and silver Space Forse ones you gave her. They were still muddy, but did that matter? No. She had to wear them to school for Uncle Harold. When we got to the lift pad so they could board the skybus to school...”

            His brother continued. Harold smiled. He took a shot of whiskey and leaned on his hand listening to his brother talk about another life he wished he had. For his brother, it was just another day.

 

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