Leapfrog
When the newest and most expensive starship, Leapfrog, unsuccessfully completes its mission for an intergalactic knowledge exchange with technologically superior aliens, it encounters a random meteor shower while returning to earth. These meteorites damage the primary pulse rockets which drastically alters the ship's ETA. Instead of waking from cryo-sleep in the planned hundred and fifty years, the surviving crew discovers that over ten thousand years have elapsed, and the earth is no longer the same. A DNA and nuclear holocaust has triggered a de-evolution among all mankind, rendering the remaining humans soulless primates. The surviving crew attempts to re-colonize earth among raving psychopaths only to discover that a new ultra-evolved creature now predominates and ruthlessly rules the top of the food chain.
"Warning! All personnel must report to the cryogenic laboratory immediately. You have one hour, thirty minutes to begin processing. Repeat, all personnel must report to the cryogenic laboratory immediately," warned the starship's computer over the intercom.
Major General Thomas Bradford automatically checked his chronograph. Yep, right on time, he thought as the ship's interior lighting shifted from DayGlo orange to an eerie light pink. One more compartment to inspect before he would join the rest of the crew in deep frozen sleep. All the other ship's personnel had already reported to the cryogenic laboratory to begin final preparations for the required deep freeze inside the cryo-sleep capsules. The procedure of blood transfusion and slow freeze took just under twelve hours, after which the horrific main thrusters would activate. A person not frozen solid would certainly be crushed to death when the ship accelerated to cruise speed.
Thomas Bradford was, without a doubt, the most dedicated and talented general in the service. His dark blue, piercing eyes transmitted his intelligence to everyone who locked gazes with him. The general stood a little over two meters; he had light gray hair, was extremely fit, and looked like a poster board advertisement for CEOs, excluding, of course, his attire. He was dressed in a loose and baggy flight suit with two gold stars on his shoulders.
Saving the most critical area for last, Thomas made his way to the bridge. He was the supreme commander for the most important mission that humans had ever embarked upon and was meticulously thorough with all his responsibilities.
The computer biometrically recognized him as he approached, and the bridge's restricted access door automatically opened. The bridge was like a vast theatre with encircling lounge-type chairs, and each chair had a mini computer console attached to it. In the center stage sat the captain's console and just to the right and slightly elevated was the supreme commander's console, which controlled every function of the starship.
Something was wrong. The distance from the access door to the center stage and the dim pinkish light made it hard for Thomas to discern exactly what was out of place, but as he drew nearer, the silhouette of a human appeared from behind the supreme commander's console.
"Who the hell are you, and what the hell are you doing here?" the general demanded in a loud voice while picking up his pace.
"I have taken over this ship and relieved you of your duties," a familiar voice replied.
"What! Colonel Jackson? Have you lost your mind?" Thomas exclaimed as his eyes registered the colonel's distinguishing features. "I'll have you court-martialed for this."
"You'll do no such thing," smugly replied the colonel.
"Computer, abort," Thomas stated.
In her soothing, female voice the computer answered, "You do not have clearance for the abort command."
In a voice laced with disrespect and bitterness, Colonel Jeffery Jackson spat out, "As I was saying, the ship's mission has been reprogrammed to my authority. We, the Federation Secret Service, have deemed this mission too critical for joint civilian tenure. The profile has been altered to better suit our needs."
Jackson had been a thorn in the general’s side ever since the mission manning was plotted, but no matter how hard he tried to relieve the arrogant colonel of his duties, some guardian angel threw Jackson back into the fray. Now, it was pretty apparent who the "guardian angel" was.
"Bullshit!" blurted the general as he drew his stun gun. Confusion crept into his mind when he pulled his weapon clear of its holster, and Colonel Jackson simply sat there grinning like a Cheshire cat, not even making an attempt to defend himself or take cover.
Thump! A piercing sensation in his back followed by electrifying white light engulfed General Bradford's consciousness.
"That ought to take care of the old man for a few hours," Lieutenant Skip Carter commented as he crawled out of the maze of lounge chairs and consoles behind the prone general. The computer whiz, who had recently finished reprogramming the complex computer, had also shot the general in the back.
This mutiny had been rehearsed many times under the intense scrutiny of Colonel Jackson. Although both men had received the same orders to liquidate General Bradford, Lieutenant Carter had wanted the general to be killed as quickly as possible, while Jackson wanted the gloating rights and insisted on the grandstanding.
"Double cuff him to the zero-g restraints," commanded Jackson. "I want this asshole to die slowly."
While rolling the general over and cuffing each hand to restraints located one meter apart on the floor, Carter said, "This will be a mess to clean up. When the ship depressurizes, he'll pop like a balloon."
"We'll worry about that a century from now. In any case, we'll be awakened ten hours before the others and can take care of cleanup before ship's company comes around." Jackson went over to the general and removed identification, crystal memory keys, and personal effects from the limp and secured body. "Now we'll see what kind of shape you're in," he said to the unconscious man.
Kicking the prone general hard in the ribs, he stepped aside and faced Carter. "Let's lock up the command console, reset the bio codes, and haul ass down to the cryogenic lab. We barely have enough time to set ourselves up. The launch window's approaching and if we miss it, we'll have to wait another twenty-two days."
"Aye, sir," was all Carter said in return.
* * * *
"Warning! Warning! Biometric life form detected. Manually abort countdown! Abort countdown!" A loud clanging of bells followed and the computer repeated its last message.
"Wha . . . what's that?" said a very groggy general. Slowly, the thick veil of unconsciousness lifted, and the man opened his eyes to be greeted by flashing red lights. The computer repeated its warnings over and over.
"Ah, shit!" Thomas said when he tried to sit up and found himself firmly tied on his back with his arms pinned.
"Ship rotation ceasing; preparing for final countdown," the computer warned.
Eventually the ship ceased its rotation, ending the gravitational effect and allowing Thomas’s legs to float upward. He realized Colonel Jackson had saved a gruesome death for him, and his only chance of salvation would be to make it to the control console and abort the thrusters' activation. Once the antimatter pulse engines kicked in, the g-forces would immobilize and eventually kill him. Programmed for ten-g's for thirty-five days, the rockets would be relentless, and if that didn't kill him, the vacuum of space certainly would.
Pushing hard off the deck, Thomas flipped over backward and managed to get his legs beneath him.
"T minus sixty seconds; commencing countdown. Abort circuits overridden," the computer warned.
"Arrrgh!" Pushing as hard as he could, Thomas put all his strength into an attempt to break free. Taking deep breaths between efforts, he could feel his shoulders and wrists tendons stretch and tear with an occasional snap, but the restraints would not budge and his thumb joints refused to give.
"Ten, nine, eight . . ." The computer counted out the last seconds while Thomas tried to tear his arms off.
Blam! The tremendous force of the rockets slammed the general down on his face, doubled over with his knees beneath him. His body now weighed an amazing nine hundred and fifty kilograms, and he was barely able to finish rolling onto his back . Breathing was incredibly difficult, and he could only manage short gasps. His arms seemed to weigh a ton, and all he could do was raise them to chest level.
The computer was unfazed by the terrible acceleration and continued its monologue. "Warning! Warning! Depressurization will commence in ten seconds. Abort circuits overridden."
For the first time in Major General Bradford's life he knew real fear, defeat, and failure. This was the most important mission ever to face earth, and he had failed to carry it through. He was still wondering how it would turn out and what the aliens would make of it, when a piercing headache paralyzed his breathing efforts. His eyes bulged open despite his efforts to keep them closed and his blood began to boil. Fortunately, his brain stroked out shortly before his body exploded leaving a large puddle of bloody goop under his lifeless body. . .