Space Jackers Read online

  For my son, Cadan

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  About the Author

  Prologue

  A Stranger in the Storm

  Deep in the seventh solar system lurked Remota, a grey and desolate planet with a split personality. During the day conditions on Remota were hot and dry, but at night fierce storms would lash its craggy continents. Few people ventured outside after dark, which is why no one noticed a wounded figure staggering through the space docks late one evening.

  A particularly nasty storm gripped Remota that night. Wild streaks of lightning ripped across the sky, while furious bursts of thunder shook the ground. The stranger stumbled as he fought through acid rain and ice-cold winds, but he lurched onwards, shielding his bloodied face with a ragged cloak.

  The nearest shelter was an old monastery on Temple Hill, where a group of cyber-monks dedicated their lives to studying technology. It was a solid structure built of local stone, with great wooden entrance doors and stained-glass windows protected beneath metal storm hatches. Its single tower was encrusted with satellite dishes and topped with a pulsing beacon to warn away ships that were forced to land in the space docks at night.

  The stranger paused at the foot of the hill to catch his breath. His weary eyes traced a crude path through the rocks and fixed on the secluded monastery at the top. He stared at it for a moment, focusing on his goal, and then he began to climb.

  Father Pius Gates hurried along the main corridor, his leather sandals slapping against the smooth flagstones and his black robes trailing in the darkness. The cyber-abbot was a large man with grey hair and a face that had drooped with age. At the end of the corridor, the front door buzzed like an angry electronic insect.

  ‘Hold on, hold on,’ he muttered. ‘I’m coming.’

  ‘Open up,’ pleaded an unfamiliar voice.

  The cyber-monks were not used to visitors and they were wary of strangers. Remota was an independent colony with little in the way of law enforcement. There had been recent reports of space pirate raids on the edge of the seventh solar system, not that anyone on Remota had anything worth stealing. Mostly farmers had settled there, growing rare and exotic plants that fed on acid rain.

  Father Pius reached the door and activated a small video screen. It flickered into life to reveal a lone man standing in the shadows. The cyber-abbot squinted at the display. As far as he could tell, the visitor was neither a farmer nor a dock worker, but he did appear to be clutching something inside his cloak.

  ‘Who is it?’ asked Father Pius into the videocom. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘Help us,’ pleaded the stranger, speaking with an unusual clipped accent that the cyber-abbot did not recognise. ‘Our ship was destroyed in a space storm and our escape pod landed on your planet. We desperately need shelter and medical attention.’

  ‘We?’ said Father Pius warily. ‘I don’t understand. I can only see you. Who else is there?’

  The man opened his cloak, revealing a young boy, no more than two years old, wrapped in an orange blanket. The child clung to the man’s chest and shook with each new rumble of thunder.

  Father Pius unlocked the door and pulled back the thick metal hatches. ‘Quick, come into the warm,’ he said. ‘Remota is no place for a child at night.’

  The stranger limped forward and handed the boy to the cyber-abbot. ‘His name is Jake Cutler,’ he said and, instead of entering the monastery himself, he stepped back and gazed into the sky. ‘We were hit by asteroids. It all happened so fast. We were lucky to escape with our lives. I don’t think anyone else survived.’

  The stranger’s burnt cloak flapped behind him like blackened wings. Father Pius didn’t recognise his maroon uniform, but the rows of medals suggested that he was some kind of military officer. The emblem on his chest was a gold disc containing three small circles, one white, one red and one green. There were three deep cuts on the man’s forehead.

  ‘You’re injured,’ said Father Pius.

  ‘I’m not important. You must help the boy. His father was lost in the space storm.’

  ‘Lost? You mean he went down with the ship?’

  ‘No, we became separated and he was unable to reach the escape pods. He found a spacesuit and evacu­ated through the airlock, but we lost contact with him. If Jake’s father somehow avoided being crushed to death in the asteroid field, he would have run out of air by now. The boy has nobody left.’

  ‘What about his mother?’

  ‘She died giving birth to him almost two years ago. Jake is alone and vulnerable and he needs a home.’

  ‘This isn’t an orphanage,’ protested Father Pius, guessing where the conversation was heading.

  ‘I’m sorry, but Jake is in danger as long as he stays with me.’ The man backed away from the door. ‘You must help him. He’s very special.’

  Father Pius glanced down at the child and was startled to see two vacant eyes staring back.

  ‘His eyes . . . ?’

  ‘They were damaged by a leaking fuel cell,’ said the stranger. ‘Is there anything you can do to help?’

  ‘I don’t know, but I’ll take a look.’

  Father Pius struggled to protect Jake from the acid rain as it spattered off the door frame.

  ‘Please, come inside,’ he said. ‘Let me dress your wounds and fetch you some clean clothes. We have plenty of spare robes.’

  ‘No, I must leave now before I put Jake in any more danger.’ The man stepped further away. ‘Don’t trust anyone who comes looking for him. His life depends on it.’

  Father Pius wondered why anyone would want to hurt an innocent child. He explored Jake’s face and noticed a gold pendant hanging from a chain around his neck. It had a swirling round border encircling three precious stones: a diamond, a ruby and an emerald.

  ‘What’s this?’ he asked.

  ‘Keep it safe,’ said the stranger. ‘It’s the key to his past.’ Then he turned and headed away down the hill through the corrosive rain.

  Father Pius strained his eyes to keep sight of the man, but he was gone. The cyber-abbot might have chased after him, if it hadn’t been for the small boy shivering in his arms. Instead, he retreated inside and closed the door, unsure what to make of the situation.

  ‘Who are you, Jake Cutler?’ he whispered.

  Jake didn’t make a sound as he lay trembling in the cyber-abbot’s arms. His eyes stared blankly into the darkness where the stranger had stood moments before, but all that remained was the small video screen, which flickered a few times and turned itself off.

  Chapter 1

  The Visitor

  ‘Watch out below!’ cried Jake Cutler, sliding down the banister of the main staircase, his thick brown hair blowing across his bright purple eyes.

  The cyber-monks had restored Jake’s sight following the space storm eleven years ago, replacing his irises with special computerised lenses that were powered by blinking. His vision had been good ever since, better than average, but it meant that his eyes glowed luminous purple, sparkling like precious amet
hysts set in balls of expensive china.

  Jake spiralled past several surprised cyber-monks in grey robes, before leaping off the end of the banister and landing nimbly on his feet. He adjusted his rucksack and checked the clock on the wall.

  ‘Magnifty,’ he cheered. ‘A new record.’

  Before the cyber-monks could catch up, Jake was sprinting along the corridor to the front door, where Father Pius Gates had just returned from the local market.

  ‘Jake Cutler,’ said the cyber-abbot, removing his protective sunglasses. He had a neat row of five studs across his forehead. These were special implants that enabled the cyber-monks to control computers with their thoughts. ‘How many times do I have to tell you? No running in the monastery.’

  ‘Sorry, father. It won’t happen again.’

  ‘It had better not. I only have a few grey hairs left and I would like to keep them, thank you very much.’ Father Pius was still one of the youngest cyber-abbots in the galaxy at the age of sixty. He eyed Jake suspiciously. ‘Where are you heading in such haste?’

  ‘I’m going down to the space docks to watch the ships land.’ Jake slipped on his sunglasses and stepped through the doorway. ‘Brother Jonas said I could finish my studies tonight.’

  Father Pius had no time to object before Jake had broken into a run and was disappearing down the hill.

  ‘Stay out of trouble,’ he called after him. ‘And don’t talk to strangers.’

  Jake enjoyed spending time in the space docks. It was much more exciting than the stuffy monastery and there was always something new to see. In the last five years, Remota had transformed from a small farming planet into a thriving trade world. Large corporations had invested in expensive drilling equipment to mine the surface for crystals and other minerals. New towns had replaced the old settlements and there was a constant flow of space traffic to and from the extended space docks.

  Spacecraft landed at the old steel jetties that jutted into the sky like giant fingers, or at the modern dome-shaped terminals that were designed for passenger ships and space tankers. These impressive platforms glistened in the sunlight like enormous glass bubbles and were surrounded by an assortment of shops, cafés and restaurants. There was even a stall selling souvenirs for tourists.

  Jake would often stay there for hours, sitting in the shade and drinking apple juice, while he sketched spacecraft and dreamt of distant worlds. He would talk to the pilots and crews, asking them questions about their ships and home planets. They would tell him exciting stories about giant monsters and fearsome pirates, which fuelled his imagination. Jake didn’t count these spacefarers as strangers, not really.

  ‘Hello, Orana,’ he said, approaching the dock gates.

  ‘Hi there, Jakester.’ The security guard greeted him, leaning out of her cabin window. ‘What are you going to draw today?’

  ‘I’m hoping to see that pleasure cruiser from Reus again.’ Jake opened his rucksack and pulled out a sketch of an expensive-looking spacecraft, with the name Star Chaser written on the side. ‘The co-pilot said they would be back this week.’

  ‘Hey, that’s your best drawing yet.’

  ‘Thanks! What I really want to see is a naval warship. Do you think one will ever land here?’

  ‘Sorry, sweetie, you know the Interstellar Navy isn’t welcome on Remota, or any other independent colony for that matter.’

  No one seemed to like the Interstellar Navy, not even the cyber-monks. People referred to them as the ‘Fascist Fleet’. It was something to do with politics. There were tensions between the Interstellar Government, who ruled the United Worlds, and the independent colonies, but that didn’t interest Jake. He just liked the smart uniforms and powerful warships.

  ‘Maybe you’ll get to see one in space some day,’ said Orana, throwing him an apple and opening the gates. ‘In the meantime, if you help me to fix my hover-bike later, I’ll give you another flying lesson in the security shuttle.’

  Jake thanked her and walked into the main concourse, with its familiar parade of shops which sold everything from sunblock to spacesuits. In the distance, the jetties and terminals towered high above the rooftops. He had seen hundreds of spaceships come and go over the years, but entering the docks never failed to excite him.

  Jake knew everything there was to know about space. He just hadn’t seen it for himself. There was a whole galaxy waiting to be explored, but Father Pius wouldn’t let him leave Remota, let alone the seventh solar system. Jake longed for adventure. He dreamt of blasting off on a rugged pirate ship and searching for treasure. A few months ago, he had even attempted to stow away on a supply craft, only to be caught and returned to the monastery.

  Apart from his secret fantasy about becoming a swashbuckling space pirate, Jake wanted to enlist with the Interstellar Navy and travel the seven solar systems. Not that he had mentioned this to Father Pius, who hoped that Jake would become a novice, before one day taking his cyber-monk vows.

  After the rise of the virtual religions a hundred years ago the cyber-cults were formed. Thousands of people across the galaxy now studied and worshipped technology. The cyber-monks on Remota were in the order of Codos, who believed that technology could unlock the mysteries of the universe, such as time travel and teleportation. This was only theoretical, of course, because despite years of research, they had yet to make a significant discovery. But Jake couldn’t imagine wearing grey hooded robes and having studs implanted in his skull, like Father Pius.

  He didn’t mean to cause trouble, but he couldn’t help feeling that he was supposed to be somewhere else, other than Remota. It wasn’t easy growing up not knowing who your parents were, or where you came from, or why you had been dumped in a monastery on a secluded planet. The one question that haunted Jake the most was whether or not his father had survived the space storm all those years ago.

  ‘Are you up there, Dad?’ he asked the sky. ‘Are you coming to get me?’

  Jake climbed on to a broken cargo crate and opened his rucksack. He rummaged inside the bag and pulled out a section of orange cloth, cut from his old blanket. Apart from the gold pendant, the piece of blanket was all that he had left from his past and, though it was little more than a tatty rag now, it was one of the things he treasured most. He rubbed the cloth in his fingers and breathed its comforting scent, trying to remember how it had once smelt.

  As he sat there, something furry leapt on to the crate and sniffed his rucksack.

  ‘Hello, Hacks,’ said Jake. ‘Sorry, no food in there today, unless you fancy some of my apple.’

  Hacks was a patchy ginger cat, with a mangled tail and a half-chewed ear, who lived in the space docks. Nobody seemed to own him, but Orana always left out water and food scraps. Jake had named him Hacks because of the noise he made when coughing up dust.

  ‘I’ll bring you some cake next week.’

  It was almost Jake’s birthday, his least favourite day of the year. He was going to be thirteen, but nobody knew the actual date he was born, so the cyber-monks celebrated the anniversary of his arrival instead. For Jake, that would always be the night he was abandoned.

  Hacks curled up on the warm crate and purred, while Jake tucked the orange cloth back into his rucksack and took out his drawing materials. A long-distance passenger ship had just docked in one of the terminals, and he was keen to draw it while the crew refuelled. He quickly sketched the outline of the hull as people swarmed from the terminal exit. Most of them were crystal miners arriving for their shifts, but there were also new farmhands, travelling salesmen and the occasional tourist.

  A tall man with dark wavy hair appeared in the crowd, his mirrored glasses reflecting the bright sunlight. There was something about him that made him stand out from the other passengers. Perhaps it was the confident way he walked or his strange-looking clothes. He wore a faded red shirt with brass fasteners, tight denim trousers and designer leather boots. In his hands, he carried a flask of water and a long blue coat. A few steps behind, a shorter man with cu
rly ginger hair was dragging along an overfilled bag.

  The tall man stopped to drink some water and check his wrist computer. He turned in the street and pointed to the monastery on Temple Hill, which seemed to please his stocky friend, who nodded in approval. After a brief discussion, the tall man set off towards the dock gates on his own, his blue coat draped over his shoulder.

  Jake stuffed his things back into his rucksack and hopped off the crate. It looked as though the cyber-monks had a visitor and Jake wanted to find out why.

  Over the years Jake had read countless tales of spacejacking and swashbuckling, starring such famous pirate captains as James Hawker and Scarabus Shark. He knew they were the bad guys, but he still found their adventures thrilling. What would it be like to fire a laser cannon or board an enemy craft? It was his dream to be a hero in a battle, beating the odds and emerging victorious. Perhaps it was this sense of adventure that made Jake follow the man with the blue coat.

  Jake knew every inch of Temple Hill and he scurried from rock to rock, taking care not to be seen by the stranger. His mind was burning with curiosity. The cyber-monks rarely had guests, only new recruits or the occasional messenger from the cardinal, but never anyone wearing mirrored glasses and designer boots.

  At the top of the hill, the man stopped to take in the view. Jake ducked out of sight and waited a moment, before peering out from behind his rock. The stranger was now at the monastery’s main entrance and talking with the novice who had opened the door, but they were too far away to hear. How could Jake get closer without being seen? Then it struck him; whenever there had been visitors in the past, they had all met with the head of the monastery first, Father Pius.

  Jake sprinted along the outside of the monastery to the cyber-abbot’s office. The window was always open during the day because of the heat, which meant that Jake would be able to hear any conversation inside. He crept the last few steps and crouched beneath the window ledge, listening intently.

  ‘Thank you, Bernsley,’ said Father Pius, dismissing the novice.

  Jake heard the door close and the sound of dust being brushed from clothes. He risked a peek through the window and saw the stranger hanging up his long blue coat. The man had removed his mirrored sunglasses and his deep blue eyes were fixed on Father Pius. He had one of those familiar faces, except for a strong chin and a nose that had been broken at least once. Jake noticed two metal studs fixed to the sides of his head, similar to the skull implants used by the cyber-monks.