Six Billion Credit Rent Boy - 1. Chapter 1

Sergeant Major Phelps didn’t mind taking trips out to the space station, the same as he didn’t mind the fact he spent the majority of his time on the UFE Kerouac out in the black, it was simply the transitioning between the two that bothered him. The Kerouac was a new ship of the sort which had been built with a spinning gravitational core. It had taken a while for all the crew to get used to the different way the forces had applied to the ship. Space station 947-OPH on the other hand was a much older model, and her gravity was produced by the spinning of the main disc of the station over a huge band of recharging power cells. Walking clockwise around the station gave one the constant feeling of being dragged backwards with each step.

The captain had invited him up to the bridge for the best view of the space station as they approached, and Phelps couldn’t keep the smile off his face. 947-OPH was like a second home, much more so than his actual home down on Glixxa-12. The space station’s occupants had affectionately named her Oprah, and Phelps knew her to be a good station, well run and cleanly managed.

“This is Captain Reynolds of the United Federation Explorer Kerouac requesting permission to dock.”

“Jack is that you?” The voice of the station commander came over the intercom and a little picture of the man was brought up in the left hand corner of the screen. “Permission granted. Gate six is open for you. Come on down.” There was delight in his voice, and the man on the little screen smiled hugely. The captain looked pretty pleased too.

“Commence docking procedure.”

“Initialising directional thrusters.” The secondary pilot began playing with the blue-lit dash in front of him. “Docking in two minutes.”

Phelps had seen it all before hundreds of times, and he relaxed back into his chair as the ship turned sixty degrees through its Z axis and brought them perfectly in line with the gate. The Kerouac docked with only the softest of bumps.

“Docking completed.” The captain pressed the button for the ship-wide communication channel. “Ladies, gents and crew, we are now fully docked with the space station 947-OPH. We are due to stay a full week, all crew are cleared for station leave.” He shut off the comm. “So what are we doing out here Sergeant?”

Phelps smiled.

“Well you know that’s a secret.” He stood. “It’ll be nice to be back on Oprah.”

“I can’t wait to have real food again.” The second mate grinned. “Ain’t nothin’ better than the Puraliaen food stall on deck nine. First stop lunch!”

Phelps walked to the docking bay as the ship powered down to its idle mode. When the bay doors opened on the space ship the station commander was there to meet them along with several others. Phelps nodded to him as he stepped down the ramp, but the commander only had eyes for captain Reynolds. The pair embraced as Phelps was welcomed on board by his lieutenant.

“Sir.” The young man saluted crispy. “It’s nice to have you back again.”

“It’s nice to be back, Lieutenant Herne.” Phelps allowed the other man to take his kit bag. “Your last communiqué said that we finally had some positive results.”

“Yes indeed sir, and you’re right on time. He fully matured out this morning, a biological success. The science team are very pleased with themselves.”

“I’ll bet.” Phelps walked with Herne through the station and he felt the weird directional pull of the different gravitational field. It always took some getting used to. Phelps kept a standing reservation for a full suite on board the station and Herne waited for him in the living room while he stowed his bag and changed into his dress jacket. Phelps brushed down the yellow lapel braid and stepped back out into the rented apartment.

Herne was the sort of lieutenant who never seemed to relax, and Phelps had never seen the man ‘off duty’ as it were. Only in his mid-twenties, he stood rigid as a board in the centre of Phelps’s living room.

“At ease lieutenant.” Phelps nodded. “Come on. You can show me the breakthrough.”

The whole of the station from the fifth deck upwards was given over to the science labs. Station 947-OPH was essentially a scientific research outpost. It was the place where the first fully sustainable biological ecosystem had been developed, a way to completely support a ship or colony in deep space without relying on protein pouches and dried supplement bars. Now it was being funded by the United Federation, and the bio-chemists had worked tirelessly, for five years, to create something very special.

“Sergeant Major Phelps, the lieutenant here told me we were expecting you.” They were greeted by the head of the department, a man whose name Phelps could never remember. “It’s taken us a long time to get here, but I think you’ll be very happy with the results.”

“Have you met him yet?” Phelps nodded to white coasts he recognised as they moved through the department. OPH’s labs were exactly the way one would expect a state of the art government facility to be: clean, white, expensive and fully stocked. Phelps had never been a great fan of such sterile environments, but after he had been injured badly enough to be put out of direct action, the Federation had taken a look at his background in applied chemistry and decided this had been the perfect project for him to oversee. Phelps had argued that he’d be better utilised in weapons development, but his high command had said the ‘mad hatters’ of the bio chemistry world needed to be kept with their feet firmly on the ground. There were one or two people around the place convinced that they could talk to plants, and that plants could talk back.

“No. He’s being given a thorough once over by his direct team. All the early signs look good. Ah, here we are.” They entered a lab which was a lot like many others, except that much of the far wall was glass. It was currently dimmed. A very pleased looking young man came through the door opposite them, running his fingers through his messy mop of black hair. “Sergeant Major Phelps, I’d like you meet our brightest star. This is Anson Davistoff.” The young man, who looked like he had only graduated from college a few years previously blushed at the compliment and held out his hand. Phelps saluted before he realised, then shook his hand. “He was the one who finalized the new data sequence which made the successful splice possible.”

“Well, I mean, it was a team effort.” The boy dipped his head. “Thank you sir.”

“Let’s meet him then.” Phelps took the little camera from his top pocket and set it on the desk opposite the window. At the press of a button the signal was broadcast through to high command. “We’ve spent a lot of money on this project Davistoff, let’s see if all those credits and your brilliant minds have created us our new super solider.”

The young man nodded, and undimmed the glass screen. All of them stared.

“He’s perfect.” Davistoff whispered with a soft sigh. “Absolutely perfect.”

Phelps hadn’t been entirely sure what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t what he saw. He turned to the two scientists.

“Are you telling me the United Federation has spent six billion credits researching and splicing human and animal genes to create a new form of super solider, and that is the best you can do?” Phelps took a deep breath. “Explain would you please gentlemen, how this happened?”

“So many of them failed, every other splice was unviable.” Davistoff spoke very quickly. “His genetic abilities are unparalleled.”

Phelps spun on his heel to look again. He had expected something bipedal, humanoid but not human. Something big, powerful, and fearsome. After all this was the culmination of years of research and science, and more money than Phelps could comfortably wrap his mind around. Someone had given the experiment a bath, he was clean and dry, and dressed in nothing but a pair of deep blue Y-fronts with white piping. The word that sprung to the forefront of Phelps mind when he looked at the experiment was ‘cute’, and that was not an appropriate response for a super solider.

“He will develop physically sir. He is only eight hours old.”

Eight hours old or not, the experiment looked physically like a skinny teenage boy. He had pale skin and gold-blond hair and his eyes were the most piercing sort of blue that Phelps had ever seen. He waved enthusiastically. Phelps looked him up and down. He stood there like any other relaxed semi naked kid, head tilted slightly to one side, ears turned forwards, curious. Phelps blinked. Ears, like the ears on a lion or some other cat, were poking through his hair, and the exact same colour. As the Sergeant watched they swivelled out sideways, and the experiment stopped waving. His tail flicked back and forth behind him, and the strong muscle knocked a clipboard from a shelf with a clatter. The experiment yelped and flinched away from the sudden noise and Phelps suddenly found that the subject was pressed to the glass, scared and shivery as a new born kitten.

“We’ve seen enough Sergeant.” The voice of the high command issues from the little speaker on the camera device. “Bring the scientists to the boardroom. We need to discuss this.”

Phelps turned away from the glass and the experiment mewled.

“Gentlemen.” The lieutenant gestured to the far door. “If you please.”

“He’s never been alone…” Davistoff sounded panicked.

“He’ll cope, I’m sure.” Phelps dimmed the glass screen, and as they left the lab his ears picked out the most plaintive and mournful of wails. The Sergeant knew the sound was going to annoy him when he was trying to sleep.

The boardroom was well equipped for the sorts of conferences where over half the attendees weren’t actually attending, and while Davistoff and his superior uploaded and displayed all of the data they had on experiment HFS692, the individual monitors came online to show the high command of the United Federation. Phelps saluted.

“At ease Sergeant.” A woman with her hair drawn back into a perfect bun and her collar showing three yellow studs spoke. “Gentlemen, tell us everything.”

Phelps summarised what was said in his head, listing everything for his later log entry. The splice known as HFS692 contained DNA from half a dozen different species; genes which were hand-picked to increase his speed, strength, stamina, brain function. They had scanned him as soon as he had been born, and Phelps recorded the images they were shown. His brain contained three times as many synapses as a human brain; his muscles had fibres with a tensile strength similar to spider’s silk; the marrow in his bones grew in a helical structure which mimicked the performance of carbon fibre. He was resistant to drought and disease and his immune system knew no equal in his abilities to heal himself. At eight hours old, he was already grasping the rudiments of language.

“And what of his character?” The photographs and scans showed the experiment was undeniably male in form. “I assume you have observed the psychology of your experiment.”

“Yes sir.” Davidstoff replied. “He is very curious, about everything. And he seems very eager to please.”

“Good, we can work with that,” replied the regally white haired Admiral Tellus. “Sergeant Major?”

“Admiral?”

“Enrol him at the academy on Triden-A. We shall see how fast he can pass through basic training.”

“Yes sir. We are not due to leave for a week.”

“But he can’t leave yet. He’s not ready!” Davistoff looked appalled. “He is a child in every way. He should remain here for further study.”

“Gentlemen, you have wasted enough of the Federation’s money. Your whole department will now be under scrutiny to ensure this sort of accident does not happen again.” Admiral Raae snapped. Phelps had not forgotten how forceful a woman she could be. “The week will give you time to finish making your observations and collect samples. And you can teach him to talk. Good day.”

One by one, the screens went dark.

“A week…” Davistoff whimpered. “But he won’t be ready.”

“Make him ready.” Phelps brushed down his jacket as he stood. “I’ll be back to collect him for transport on Thursday. Good day.”