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Mistaken Identity 2000 short story by Jonathan Hicks Six years after Episode IV - A New Hope The
first thing he became aware of when he regained consciousness was the dull
throbbing ache that seemed to thump in his body. The neck especially hurt,
the sensation of pain flowed from the shoulders to reach a crescendo on the
inside of his skull. He wished he had remained unconscious. He
could feel a numbness across his chest and something cold and flat was spread
across the left side of his face. He calmed himself mentally as he realised
that the eye on that side would not open, and then he became aware of a
sticky substance spread across his head. Slowly, he forced open his right
eye. He
was pleased that there was very little light. He wasn`t too sure whether his
rather sore opticals could take the strain, so he decided to risk raising his
head. The
pain increased. It took a lot of effort to lift his head, but finally he
managed to get it away from the surface, and then force his body to follow
suit. The
flat surface was some kind of panel, dotted with controls and switches which
he didn`t recognise. An irritating red light pulsed steadily, and so he
turned his head to survey more of his surroundings. He knew that the sticky
fluid on his scalp, and on the panel, was his own, but he decided not to
worry about that until he had taken stock of his situation. The
first thing he thought of when looking around was that he was on some form of
flight deck. Ahead of him was a large viewport, to the left was another control
panel, with another form slumped in the seat, and to the right was a similar
picture. Each of the figures were human males but he couldn`t remember having
seen them before. The viewport was blacked out by something on the outside. The
numb feeling around his torso and abdomen revealed itself to be some kind of
harness, holding him loosely in his seat. He smiled at the looseness of the
straps, thinking of his contact with the panel and the blood on his face. He
couldn`t remember strapping himself into this seat. In fact, he couldn`t
remember anything that had happened. It
took a while to figure out how to undo the buckle that held the straps in
place. After a few twists and turns and a few choice words from a parched
mouth he managed to separate the two halves, letting small springloaded units
wind them away. His arms ached and every physical movement seemed to wear him
down. He
didn`t recognise this place, these people. He knew that his name was Bee,
that he was thirty-seven years old, born on Nogard on an arctic station, son
of... son of... He
couldn`t remember. He couldn`t remember who his parents were. He couldn`t
remember about growing up, his adolescence, about his life. He could only
remember waking up in that seat, his name and age, and playing in the snow
outside something he remembered to be his house in the arctic with... with...
an animal, that was it, a big thing
called... called... He
balled up his fists and put them to his head, gritting his teeth. He could
feel the slice where his head had contacted the panel, and came to the
conclusion that he was probably still in shock, maybe a concussion. It
was time to stand. He eased himself from the chair, being careful not to
aggravate his aching legs, trying to get himself into a straight position. He
felt off-balance, but then realised that the actual deck was listing forward
so that he had to steady himself to stop stumbling towards the viewport.
Wherever the ship was, it was not even ground, which gave him the impression
that the craft must have landed in an emergency. Actually, crash landed was a
more accurate form of description. He could see more of the room, see where
small fires had started from overloaded systems, see where the automatic
flame suppressers had sprayed foam over them. The flight deck went back
another few meters, and another form sat slumped in a seat facing him. From
the raised platform and the heavy set seat and steering controls, he assumed
that this was the pilot. He
crossed stiffly to the figure sat on his left. The form was a young human
male, with jet black hair and a very rough beard. He was bruised along the
right side of his face, and a thin trickle of dried blood ran from the corner
of his mouth and stained his light grey flight uniform. Bee didn`t recognise
the emblem on the man`s shoulder. He
checked for a pulse. It was quite strong, and as if he had the magic touch,
the man began to stir. Bee stepped back with a start, his hand going
reflexively to his left breast, although what he expected to find in there he
didn`t know. He clenched his fist and forced himself to calm. The man`s eyes
flickered open. "Wha...?" the man groaned and
lifted a pale hand to his head, screwing up his eyes to try and clear it. He
sat up straight in his seat as he catalogued every ache and pain, wincing as
he shifted in the chair. Then he became aware of Bee`s presence, and slowly
turned his head to face him, squinting into the dim light. He
licked his dry lips and croaked. "So what`s your story?" Yullm
ran his fingers through his black hair and scratched his beard, letting the
head of one of the other humans fall forward. "He`s dead," he reported to Bee.
"Looks like the straps broke a few bones. Been dead a long time,
too." He jumped down from the platform and crossed over to Bee, who was
checking the wounds of the still unconscious third man, who had light sandy
hair and blue eyes. He was a very well built man, and Bee identified him as
Grum Puthma, going by the label on his uniform. "You don`t recognise the other one
either?" he said with little enthusiasm. Yullm
shook his head. "I don`t know who any of you are. I
don`t remember coming up to the cockpit of this ship. I remember the sirens
and the shouting... this is all very confusing." Bee
stood and offered Yullm some crackers, who took them and stuffed them down. "I don`t think I was a member of this
crew," Bee said, "I`m the only one not in uniform." Yullm
shrugged. "Well, that figures.” Before
Bee could enquire as to the meaning of Yullm’s words the man continued. "This is crazy. The air is getting
pretty stale in here. There doesn`t appear to be any power to this
door." "And there`s no other exits,"
Bee sighed, "Do you think the ship is very big?" "It’s a pretty big vessel, a
corvette, actually. Maybe there’s other survivors." He
jumped down the few steps and flopped down beside Bee, taking the offered
nutrient flask. He gulped down a few mouthfuls and wiped his mouth with his
palm. "I can`t remember the animal’s
name... " Bee thought aloud. "Huh?" "Nothing. Look," he got to his
feet, "We had better find a way to get power back before we suffocate in
here. It doesn`t take a genius to figure out that no power means no air
pumps. You start at the front, I`ll go over the pilot’s controls." Bee
was a little concerned at the way Yullm looked at him, as if he had just said
something stupid or strange. He decided not to pursue that course of enquiry,
especially since the boy was injured. They
checked each and every panel, flicking labelled switches, pressing buttons,
and risking turning dials which could not be identified. They searched until
Bee sat down on the floor, aggravated and somewhat angry. Light
flooded the room, making Bee cover his eyes and Yullm yelp with surprise. Systems
hummed to life. Lights representing different onboard activities lit up on
different panels. Beeps and whistles squeaked for attention. Bee looked
around incredulously. "What did you do?" he asked
Yullm. Yullm
only shrugged and looked over his head at other readouts which were spewing
information out at him. "I never touched a damn thing." They
both turned quickly as the door to the cockpit slid upwards, letting cool
fresh air blow into the room. Bee
started to stand. The door to they had tried earlier had opened. The light
that spewed into the room also contained a silhouette. Bee approached the
figure. “Thank the Maker,” he said, “we were
getting a little...” As
an answer the figure raised a heavy assault blaster and aimed directly at
Bee. Bee shocked and more than scared, backpeddled. The
cannon reported, the bright energy beam screaming across the room and into
his chest. There was a small explosion and a shower of sparks. Bee
staggered back, staring down at the smouldering hole in his chest. In those
last brief moments before darkness came, he realised that the animal he had
seen in the snow had not been his. He staggered and fell to the deck with a
loud clang. Yullm
stared at Bee as he lay smoking on the deckplates, jerking spasmodically. “What the hell did you do that for?” He
shouted at the figure who emerged fully into the room with the weapon still
pointed at Bee. “He was only a service ‘droid!” The
newcomer looked down at the automaton she had just shot and then looked up at
Yullm. “Take a closer look,” she said, her voice
sharp and cold. Now that Yullm could make her out he could see she was
wearing some form of tactical armour, the weapon plugged into a targeter she
wore as a headpiece. She
moved over to the still form and kicked it. It stopped moving, so she reached
down and stuck her hand in the chest cavity. It was slippy and greasy. The
damage the ‘droid had suffered had caused many gashes in it’s casing where
lubricants and oils were leaking. She tore out a small unit and pocketed it. “What’s that?” Yullm asked. “It’s central motivator. This killer won’t
be getting up and about soon.” “Killer?” “Yes, killer. This is BB-6713. It used to
be a security ‘droid on the generator levels of Chancai but it blew a fuse
after it was tampered with in a sabotage attempt. It’s processor was filled
with dozens of combat programs, causing a nasty feedback. It thinks it’s
human. Several humans, in fact. What we call ‘multiple auto-synaptic
recall’.” “It was a schizophrenic,” Yullm said,
looking down at the ‘droid. “That’s right. It hires itself out,
believe it or not, as an assassin. Apparently, that was it’s dominant
personality. It killed everyone on this ship for some reason and caused it to
crash. You were lucky it’s personality flipped or you would have been next.” Yullm
slumped back. “Who are you? Where are we?” “Nogard. Under a snowdrift on the arctic
circle. For some reason BB changed the ship’s course and headed here. We were
chasing you all over the sector. I’m Malletta, I work for a businessman out
of Amagad who this ship belongs to. Let’s just say there was cargo on here we
had to make sure was safe.” “Oh, yeah? And what was that?” “You. You are Yullm, yes?” Yullm
was a little concerned with the way she looked at him.
“Yes?” “Glann Cipple sent me. He wants to know
why you haven’t been sending him the personell reports.” Dammit,
thought Yullm, almost die in a starship
wreck, almost murdered by a crazy ‘droid and still work finds me. Mistaken Identity 2000 short story by Jonathan Hicks Six years after Episode IV - A New Hope Histories - Written by Jonathan
Hicks, this story, which follows Yullm's
reports in the short story Reports
from the Edge, shows Glann
Cipple's field agent out in the field and attempting to stay out of the
limelight for a while - until the Shadow
Warrior Malletta catches up
with him. Cast of
Characters Yullm Malletta BB-6173 |