FAKE Gateway - Chapter One

CHAPTER ONE

“Ah,” I mumbled, not opening my eyes. “Skippy, will you please shut up? It is way too early for this shit.”

He didn’t shut up.

I couldn’t understand whatever he was saying, it had to be some of his usual midnight nonsense. He was outraged about, something. Or he was desperate to express his opinion on a subject I could not possibly have cared less about. Sometimes, if I ignored him, he eventually went away. He made me pay for it later, but I got precious extra minutes or even hours of sweet sleep in my rack, that was worth any price.

Damn, I felt awful. It used to be that my back hurt after foolishly joining the STAR team in an exercise, or from playing basketball, but all I had done the previous day was spend an hour in a flight simulator. And grind through paperwork, that was fun. Getting older sucks.

Shit. He wasn’t going away. He hadn’t gotten any louder, or brought a bot into my cabin to shake the bed or drag the sheets onto the floor, with me in them. So, he wasn’t super hot about insisting I stop pretending to be asleep. Not yet.

Crap.

He would insist I wake up, soon. Was it best to throw the covers off, and just admit that I’m awake? That was the smart move. But, I felt awful. My face hurt, how did that happen?

“Oh,” I groaned, and my voice was muffled. Had I put the stupid pillow over my head again? Opening one eye, all I saw was a sliver of light. Ayuh, the cabin lights were on, and I was seeing a narrow view from under the pillow.

“OK, OK, Skippy,” I groaned. “I’m awake. Give me a minute, will you?”

He hadn’t stopped talking.

What was he saying?

Huh. That wasn’t his voice. It was a beeping sound. An alarm?

Oh shit.

I tried to throw the pillow away, but it wouldn’t budge. My left arm wasn’t working, and everything else was in super slow motion. What the- Had I gotten tangled in the sheets again? One time, I almost strangled myself by getting the sheet wrapped around my neck. My bed had already tried to kill me once, it didn’t need any help.

Ding ding. Ding ding. Ding ding.

That wasn’t annoying at all. It also wasn’t one of Valkyrie’s alarms that I recognized. Unless it was Skippy’s way of telling me there were fresh hot cinnamon buns in the galley for breakfast?

Reaching up slowly with my right arm that sort of worked, I- What the f-

It wasn’t a pillow over my face, it was the brim of my baseball cap, smushed down so I couldn’t see. Tugging the cap aside, I saw the white pillow that my face was pressed up against.

In a panic, I realized that’s not a pillow.

Jerking my head back so my neck screamed in protest, I blinked.

What the-

I wasn’t in my cabin at all. Had I crashed another freakin’ dropship? Def Com was going to pull me off flight duty permanently. There was a windscreen in front of me, with trees. And a runway, with yellow stripes. I was in the cockpit of a dropship, the controls were-

Wrong. All wrong.

No touchscreens. Instead of a side stick controller, there was a yoke in front of me. What kind of spacecraft has an old fashioned-

Oh shit.

Not a dropship. Not a runway.

I was in a pickup truck, on a road.

I had hit the guardrail on the right, the hood was crumpled up, partly blocking my view ahead. The windshield had a big crack running across it, the safety glass hadn’t shattered.

How the hell-

Where was I?

Oh.

That building, I recognized it.

The old potato warehouse, in my hometown.

I had come home.

Why?

Not one but two Outsiders were roaming loose in the galaxy, finding them is what I should have been doing.

A buzzing sound in the sky, coming from the east.

A spacecraft, trailing smoke, headed toward the potato field.

I needed to get out of the truck, away from the road. The truck was an easy target.

Pushing the deflated airbag out of my way, I pulled on the door handle. It wasn’t working. No, it was, the door was stuck. Or, just hard to open, there was a sound of protesting metal as I used my shoulder to make it creak open.

I rolled and fell out of the truck, bashing a knee on the pavement. My legs worked, my arms also, my left arm had been trapped by the seatbelt. The buzzing in the sky was louder, the dropship making an attack run, a maser cannon would be spitting out searing bolts of energy, slicing through the truck. Time to move. Crawling at first, then staggering to my knees and holding onto the truck bed, I went around behind the truck, to limp off the road into the woods. Maybe take cover in the ditch. Move, Bishop, move.

The dropship was clearer now, I could see it was small. A single seat gunship, not a transport. That made sense, if aliens were hunting for me.

The gunship dipped lower. No time to get off the road, I ducked down to lie flat on the road behind the truck.

Rrrrrrrr-ROAR, the spacecraft zoomed over the road, trailing smoke.

That was weird, why-

I’m an idiot. That was not an alien spacecraft. It was a freakin’ crop duster airplane, spraying the field.

Joe, I smacked my forehead. You have been through too much shit, you see danger everywhere. Although-

Why was an airplane, with a piston engine and a propeller, spraying the field? We used drones for that now. My hometown area of Maine has never been on the cutting edge of technology, but farmers are generally quick to adapt money-saving devices.

I was safe. I was home, though I didn’t know why.

A sound from behind me caught my attention, I stood up, feeling foolish.

Another truck.

I recognized that truck. It was Susie, a local hunting guide, she had a gun rack on the back window. Waving to her, I held onto the tailgate.

She slammed on her brakes, skidding to a stop, yanking open her door. “Joe! Joe, what happened, are you all right?”

“Yeah, I, I don’t know what happened.”

“Did you hit a moose?” Susie was on the local volunteer rescue squad, she kept a first aid kit under her seat. With a penlight, she looked in my eyes.

“I dunno. Maybe. It, it’s all confusing. I shouldn’t even be here.”

“Why not?” She blinked.

“Valkyrie. I need to get back to my ship.”

“Ship? Joe, you’re in the Army, not the Navy. You flew home from Nigeria.”

“I did, but- That was a long time ago.”

“Joe?” She peered at me, concerned, pulling the handle, she opened the tailgate. “Sit down here, please.”

“I’m fine, it-”

She held up a finger to shush me. “Are you a medic, or an EMT? I am.”

“OK.” You don’t argue with Susie.

“You might have a concussion. What do you remember?”

“I was, uh, aboard Valkyrie, of course, we-”

“What is Valkyrie?”

“You know. My starship. Not mine, Reed is captain, the-”

“I am taking you to the hospital,” she declared. “Can you walk to my truck?”

“Sure. This isn’t nec- necessary,” I stumbled to pronounce the word.

“You are not well. Joe, a starship? Were you at a, Comic Con, something like that?”

“Comic Con?” I looked down at my clothes. Jeans, well-worn boots, a flannel shirt. “I’m not cosplaying as a lumberjack, so- Susie, you know about Valkyrie. You must.”

“Never heard of it,” she shook her head as I leaned on her shoulder, limping to the passenger seat of her truck. Opening the door, she had to take tackle boxes, a set of camo waders, and other junk off the seat to make room for me. “Joe, you are home on leave. There was a party at the Donaldson’s house two nights ago, to welcome you back from Nigeria.”

“Two- That was two nights ago?” A wave of dizziness, I leaned my head back. “No way.”

“It was. This is Columbus Day, native heritage day, whatever you call it. Where do you think you are? Who do you think you are? Can you tell me your name?”

“I’m Joe. Joe Bishop,” I closed my eyes. “I’m here on leave?”

“You have to report back to Fort Drum on Friday. Do you remember that?”

“I do, sort of. That, that was a long time ago. Wasn’t it?”

“This is now.”

“Oh, I, I think I’m gonna be sick,” I leaned out the door, as the truth came rushing back into my head.

“Joe, what’s wrong?”

“You’re not gonna believe- I just had the weirdest dream, about a talking beer can.”

She gently pushed me into the seat and closed the door. “We are driving to the hospital right now.”