The Adventures of Captain Sparke

The Adventures of Captain Sparke - Episode 1: Ambush

Inspired by classic science fiction and the space opera serials of the 30's, 40's and 50's, Anthony Fleming presents "The Adventures of Captain Sparke" in serialised pulp form.

#1: Ambush

The great star-ship beamed across the vast empty void of space. A huge rustic red bulk, the Lancaster class freighter was pushing 10 Light Cycles carrying supplies from Earth bound for Mars. Although no sound travels in the starry void, observing the thick steal hull, it was possible to imagine the crafts bolted bulk creaking and grunting as the three isomer fusion engines propelled it further onward. The craft itself was a seemingly endless cuboid the front of which sliced upwards, similar to the millennia old water bound ships of Earth. Over the years of its service the star-ship had been amended repeatedly, with various parts bolted to the side and atop, climbing higher and higher until it tapered at the bridge.

The Captain of the star-ship, Helena Molokov, had very little to do in her command. For such a massive freighter there were very few crew members, with most of the processes on board being automated via computer. To the left and right of Molokov sat Engineer Tyson and Navigator Frasier respectively, young and inexperienced, on their first deep space flight. A supply run like this would be perfect for the pair to find their feet, allowing Molokov to ease off her attention a fraction, testing the pair.

Molokov peered from atop the small gantry on which she sat, the chair positioned at the end of a curving arm giving her a clear view of the whole bridge. The design was an outdated design but one that could still be found on most craft capable of speeds greater than 2 Light Cycles.

"Frasier, how's our route looking?" Barked Molokov, her bald head reflecting the overhead spotlights.

The young woman called Frasier removed her visor, and looked to the Captain, as her eyes adjusted back to reality from the simulation she'd just been immersed in. The black haptic gloves were the only clean and cutting-edge item she wore, in fact the whole crew could be described as shabby, the work didn't pay well enough nor was there enough time between journeys to purchase anything.

"I've just simulated the route with this hour's shipping forecasts, it's a clear route to Mars, spatial turbulence at a minimum providing no detours are made, and any craft that approach won't get closer than 5 miles as I estimate."

"Would you suggest an increase in speed Frasier?"

"Aye Captain."

"Tyson, you heard the woman, increase cruising speed to 12 Light Cycles and hold her steady there."

Tyson, a small young man wearing goggles, peering over a tablet in the table, looked up from his calculations to a series of dials and switches ahead of him. Without a word he twisted numerous dials until a great howl echoed through the ship's hull and the crew found themselves pushed back in their seats.

"Craft holding steady at 12 Light Cycles Captain."

"Make sure she doesn't verge into redline Tyson, ease up if she does."

"Aye Captain." Came the perfunctory response.

The colonies on Mars had had yet to establish enough synthetic production to be fully self-sustainable with the ever increasing populous. Every day massive vessels blasted their way along the express route from Earth to Mars delivering food and water in immense quantities. Although the Earth had been irretrievably damaged, the destruction had been quelled so that the atmosphere could still provide for the off-world colonies. Tens of thousands of people relied on the ships to Mars meaning the cargo was in fact more valuable than the crew, an unpleasant notion that eventually Molokov had just accepted.