Chase watched from the c0ckpit window as the blue sky of earth faded to black. The violent vibrations from the rocket stopped abruptly and he saw the last booster tumble away from the ship. After a quick check of the environmentals, he shrugged out of his suit. He watched as his co-pilot did the same.

“Now I know how a martini feels when it’s shaken, not stirred,” he said with a smile.

Nadia’s only response was a curt grunt. The lady might be a brilliant scientist with a killer body, but she was sadly lacking in the personality department. Of course, that didn’t stop him from admiring the view as she wiggled out of her space suit.

Neatly stowing her suit, she turned to face him. The stun gun in her hand quickly distracted him from her more desirable assets.

“OK, I’ll lay off the one-liners until we’re back on Terra Firma,” he said jokingly.

She gave him a frosty smile. “I’m sorry, Dr. Jackson, but I’m afraid that most of you won’t be returning. My government has some special experiments planned for this mission, and you have the great honor of being the subject.”

“Funny, I had been thinking of including you in a few experiments of my own. But I thought we’d keep the results private.”

“You are a disgusting pig. My only regret is that you will be remembered as a hero, the brave doctor who sacrificed his own life for his co-pilot.” She used the gun to gesture towards the on-board lab. “Move.”

With a small shove, Chase started to drift in the direction of the lab. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as she started to follow him. He paused near one of the windows.

“Do you mind if I take a look at Earth one more time?” he asked, turning away. He watched her reflection in the window as she continued floating closer to him. Closer, closer…

He turned suddenly and pushed hard against her chest. She tumbled backwards across the cabin, her arms flailing as she tried to right herself. Slamming against the far wall, she fired at Chase.

The electrodes flew from the gun, sparks arcing between them. With a quick move, he kicked his shoe at the approaching weapon. Flying from his foot, it tangled with the wires, filling the room with the smell of burning leather. The momentum carried the fiery footwear towards Nadia.

She pushed herself from its path and dropped the now-useless gun. With a scream of rage, she smashed the emergency escape kit. Shattered glass exploded in slow motion, hanging in the air like sharp drops of glittering rain.

Nadia grabbed a small axe from the kit and launched herself at Chase. Kicking off the wall, he headed for the lab.

“How did you know that a chase was part of my experiment?” he taunted. “Are you sure that you don’t want to see the rest? I promise that you’d find it very…fulfilling.” The thud of the axe embedding itself in the lab door was her only response.

Chase shot into the lab and stopped on the far side. Nadia recovered the axe, then paused in the doorway.

“It's time for the experiment, Dr. Jackson. I’m going to enjoy this.”

Nadia slowly drifted across the room, searching Chase’s face for any sign of fear. A look of confusion crossed her face as he calmly stood there, waiting. She closed the distance to 12 feet, then 10.

Suddenly, Chase reached behind him and pulled out a fire extinguisher. A white plume of foam shot from the nozzle, hitting Nadia in the face. The pressure propelled her back into the main cabin. Releasing her grip on the axe, she clawed at her face, trying to clear it of the blinding foam.

Her vision returned as the burning shoe and electrodes wrapped her in their deadly embrace.

He sadly shoock his head as he looked at her smoldering body.

“If you chase Chase, you’ll always get burned.”

Shining weakly in the vast embrace of space, the International Space Station orbited at a speed of over sixteen thousand miles per hour. Its forty three thousand cubic feet of living and workspace held experiments, supplies, four dead cosmonauts and a madman bent on destroying Paris, a madman that Chase had come to stop at all cost.

John Woodruff had posed for years as a technical engineer for the European Space Agency. John had received training, learned the inner workings of the space station’s systems and all the while managed to hide his ties to terrorist organizations that Chase couldn’t spell, let alone pronounce. It wasn’t until some egghead in an air-conditioned room on a base that supposedly didn’t exist, put two and two together from various intelligence reports and figured out that the ISS was going to be the next target. By then it was almost too late to do anything about it.

An emergency shuttle flight and an eerily silent docking procedure had Chase stepping out into the quiet halls. His memorized plans of the station led him directly to the Command Bridge, where he found the four corpses, each with a neat bullet hole in the back of their head. To Chase it was apparent, John had drugged the evening meal and simply executed the cosmonauts as they lay helpless and asleep.

Leaving the Command Bridge, Chase stalked the tunneled corridors of the ISS like a ferret in a rabbit warren, purposely searching, nose to the air, hunting for the one man who intended to rocket four hundred and fifty tons of manmade structure through the atmosphere onto the city of Paris, to prove a point. Chase lived by his strength and wit, and if they failed him now, millions would die.

A form sped out of a connecting corridor to slam into Chase’s side, driving him against the wall. Quick as a snake, the form pulled back and launched a foot at his side. The blow connected on a well-muscled rib and drove the air from Jackson’s lungs. Recovering quickly Chase moved on pure instinct, catching the next blow aimed at his head, twisting the arm to slam and hold his assailant against the cold titanium panels.

“Face it Johnny,” Chase said, as he pressed his mouth near the madman’s ear, “You’re a technician and a killer but you are not a fighter.”

A guttural noise that sounded more beast than human, escaped Woodruff’s lips. Insanity and the conviction of belief made him twist with a strength his wiry frame should not have been capable of. Off balance, Chase tried to keep his feet under him and still ward off the quickly falling blows. One of the killer’s punches rocked Chase’s head back and again had him reeling.

There is a point in every man’s life when the odds are against him, when he is down with no place to go and failure stares him right in the eye. Some men will curl up in a ball and accept what fate will offer them, but not Chase. In that dark stare of fate, Chase found something primal and powerful inside of him, or maybe he just snapped.

Chase stood very still and locked John’s gaze with his. “Hit me,” Chase said as the fist flew straight into his face.

“Hit me again,” he screamed, and once more Chase accepted the blow.

By this time blood was pouring from Chases face, his laugh had turned maniacal and he still gazed squarely at the madman.

“I am just showing you little man, there is no way you are taking me down, not now, not ever,” He said in a voice grim with determination.

That is when John pulled a gun, the size of a small cannon, from behind his back.

Chase said, “Put it down John. If you miss, you will puncture the skin of this place and depressurize the whole station.”

“That is why I don’t intend to miss,” John laughed softly.

Chase, whose eyes had never left John’s, noticed the tightening of his jaw and eyes, and dove for the connecting corridor just as the muzzle flashed its molten death at him. Quickly he punched the button the lowered the bulwark doors, sealing the hallway he had just been in.

With his face pushed up against the door’s window, Chase watched as John was sucked backwards onto the puncture hole. Chase watched as John’s eye became large and an inhuman scream issued from his lips, but mostly, Chase watched as a six foot tall, one hundred seventy pound man was sucked through a hole the size of a quarter. It wasn’t pretty or humane, but at least the world was safe for another day, thanks to Chase Jackson.

Chase Jackson’s mission was spelled out clearly before him, flashing in the bottom right corner of his control panel, emblazoned in red:

MISSION: DESTROY THE SHARK

The Shark. Just reading it, Chase’s heart skipped a beat. A mere mention of the dreadful name instilled terror within the toughest of men. The Shark was the most ruthless, most powerful of all spacecrafts in the galaxy. This mission was bound to get bloody; even Chase was no match for The Shark. And yet, he had a distinct feeling he would come out alive.

Chase geared up his craft to enter Slokum, the last planet in the Defender’s Zone. The Defenders were dull hulks of metal, and not all that quick. They would not have been much trouble if there weren’t so damned many of them.

Chase’s radar bleeped loudly. Two Defenders had entered Slokum behind him, hot on his tail. Chase swerved sharply to the right; one missile missing its target. He quickly threw himself into a steep dive, pulling the two ships with him. At the last moment before he slammed into the ground, Chase pulled out of the dive, heading upward at breakneck speed. From behind him he heard a massive explosion.

Chase searched frantically for a safe area, all the while swerving and careening; dodging explosives shot at him by the remaining Defender. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted a narrow canyon; too small for the Defender to enter. He turned immediately and sped in its direction. But as he was maneuvering into the tight ravine, a deafening explosion ripped through his ship, plunging it into the shallow waters below.

Wow, that was close!, thought Chase. His ship had been strong enough to withstand the blast, and would automatically mend the damage now; in addition to reloading ammo. He had been warned that there weren’t as many planets in the next zone. He would need all the power and ammunition his ship could handle.

Chase entered the Silver Cruisers Zone at top speed, but cautiously all the same. His acute eyes were peeled, darting like needles in every direction, looking for the enemy he did not wish to face. He was flying smoothly for some time, too long, he thought.

Then, amidst sudden blares and flashing lights in the control room, he saw the first Silver Cruiser directly ahead of him. But before he could admire all its sleek curves and determine its military capability, Chase was under attack.

He dodged the assault, diving low and coming up swiftly, firing as he did. The approaching Cruiser shook violently as the missile hit its belly. Chase swerved right as the Cruiser plunged into a dive, heading straight towards him. He pulled up sharply, dodging more gunfire, until he was flying inverted above his attacker. Missiles from two more Cruisers suddenly bombarded him, one of which slammed into his ship. Damn! He corkscrewed through the onslaught, firing two of his own as he did. One of them found its mark.

Chase curved right, now with three enemy Cruisers in his tracks. A cold sweat broke out on his neck. The Silver Cruisers were tougher than he’d thought. He dodged and swerved, launching two missiles. He heard an explosion behind him. Only two Cruisers remained now, but they didn’t relent.

Another explosion rocked his ship. It would not survive many more hits like this. Chase was in trouble. He made up his mind; he would have to resort to The Weapon. There was no other choice.

Chase slowed down suddenly, still dodging enemy fire as the Cruisers started gaining on him. He was sweating profusely now, his heart pounding like a jackhammer. He wove in and out, swerved right, left; fatal missiles just missing him, still slowing down.

Bam!

Another missile shook his ship relentlessly. The control room went into emergency mode; red lights flashed, alarms clamored. The Cruisers were a leap away.

Suddenly Chase jerked the throttle, dropping the ship 3000 feet, at the same time employing a Directional Reverse, bolting off in the opposite direction. He exhaled deeply, his hands shaking.

Keeping his eye on the Cruisers behind him, Chase reached under the console, feeling blindly for the UTC switch.

As his fingers closed around the deadly weapon, Chase looked up, as if in slow motion, to see the enormous head of a Silver Cruiser crashing into his blasted spaceship. As his ship rocked from the force, his world went black.

---

The computer display was coming to life. Through his haze, Chase tried to make out the words flashing across the screen:

INSERT 50 CENTS TO CONTINUE

He quickly rummaged through his pockets for more change. No luck. A subdued Chase Jackson slowly climbed out of the booth and walked away; his head bowed, defeated.

Above the moon, the Lambert-Stokes engine attached to the huge asteroid spurted fire, and the ponderous bulk settled into geo-syncratic orbit. As big as a barn, the giant rock suddenly disappeared when the cloaking device engaged. It was now totally invisible.

Chase negotiated the final step of the small EVA module and dropped onto the powdery lunar soil. The voice of his co-pilot crackled on his suit radio: “Well, at least this giant step for mankind isn’t being filmed in Paramount Studios.”
“What?” said Chase.
“Forget it,” said the co-pilot from the mothership in orbit around the moon. “There it lies, over yonder, just in the lip of crater.”
The Tycho Crater seemed quite a distance away; but the one sixth gravity helped. Bouncing rather than running, Chase made good progress towards the strange object that had suddenly appeared in the crater and begun sending mysterious signals to the Earth.

As he neared the crater, he could see it now: a monolith, soaring straight up from the lunar crater, dark, alien.
The two main advisors of the mission, Sergeant Clarke and Major Kubrick, had deemed a full military team too provocative. So, the investigation of the alien artifact had been placed in the hands of just two men: Chase, and his co-pilot.

“Careful, Chase,” said the co-pilot, “I detect a sudden surge of electromagnetic activity.”
Suddenly, the monument flared to life. There was a lilting of music, a Strauss waltz, and large neon letters flashed on its surface:

'CHASE JACKSON YOU IDIOT ! YOU ARE HISTORY.
YOUR OLD FRIEND, HOO FLUNG DOO.'

“Hoo Flung Doo!” exclaimed Chase.
“I dunno,” said the co-pilot, “Who did―”
“No! It’s a trap! I―”
Suddenly, hundreds of men stood, emerging from the deep dust in the crater. Each wore a bright yellow space suit with a red star and carried a lethal looking weapon.

“Oh! I got them onscreen now,” said the co-pilot. “Jeez! Look at the way they are dressed! No doubt this guy Hoo Flung Doo was expecting a James Bond-type denoument and wanted clear visuals to distinguish the goodies from the baddies.”
“Or perhaps, my wise friend, it was cheaper to buy them in a job-lot, you capitalist lackey,” purred a voice over the radio.
“Hoo Flung Dung! Is it you?” said the co-pilot.
“Indeed. And, after all this time I have Chase alone and vulnerable.” The Chinese villain cackled maniacally, though somewhat mechanically, as was expected of him, and he issued his order: “Loyal subjects, fry that son-of-a-xxx Jackson!”
The co-pilot laughed: “It ain’t over ‘til a good ole western rock band plays out the credits, mister!”

With that, he hit a button and the invisible asteroid sprang into view. With a terrific blast of the Lambert-Stokes engine it gunned down at maximum velocity, straight for Hoo Flung Doo’s men.

Chase ducked as the huge rock hit the far end of the crater, completely annihilating Hoo Flung Doo’s men and sending up a plume of dust some five miles into space. Some of the dust escaped forever, but part of it began to drift back with infinitesimal slowness, engulfing the crater in a cloud that made vision impossible.

Chase peered through the heavy-duty visor of his space suit to see the ugly, lined face of Hoo Flung Doo.

“You!” spat Flung Doo, “My arch nemesis. But at least you have proven to be a worthy opponent and I shall give you the honor of a soldier’s death.”
With that, Flung Doo drew a Samurai sword and whirled it over his head.
“You can’t do that!” came the co-pilot’s voice.
“I can and I will, Imperialist lackey!”
“No, the Samurai sword and the honor motif are Japanese! You are Chinese! This is completely wrong; culturally, aesthetically, dramatically and―”
“Phooey dooey, dung face,” said Flung Doo. With that, he decapitated Chase.

The headless corpse stood a moment, then slowly toppled, almost graceful in the low gravity. Flung Doo stared at the mass of springs and circuits protruding from the corpse’s neck. “An android?”
“Yes,” came the co-pilot’s voice. “I’m Chase. You didn’t think I’d be fool enough to go down there myself, did you?”

“Well, you beat me this time!” snarled Flung Doo. “But there will be another time.”
“Nope,” said Chase.
“Nope? Nope! You Imperialist dogs can’t even speak your own language― Uh, uh…”
Flung Doo had seen the red light on the android’s head. Its eyes opened momentarily and the lips moved, saying: “Have a nice day.”
“Tactical nuclear device?” said Flung Doo, his inscrutable face suddenly scrutable.
“You got it, mister,” said Chase from the ship.

The explosion was seen from Earth.
Bits of Flung Doo remained in orbit for centuries.

Chase sipped his coffee contentedly as the sun rose over the horizon, coloring the earth pink and orange. He stretched out in his recliner happily, knowing that he would have no emergency phone ringing today. There would be no agents in his house, no bombs underneath his bed, no car chases...

A loud buzzer startled Chase from his rest. Red lights spun on the ceiling as smoke began to flood the ground outside. Oh no... It looked like his vacation was coming to an abrupt halt. He ran down the hall, grabbing his equipment as he went. At the end of the hall, he swung open the door to the garage and found himself on a second-story metal catwalk. The "garage" had been locked for quite some time, as there was top secret work going on; Chase referred to it fondly as his "little friend." Inside, the 20-foot rocket-powered "friend" had been built, and it was ready to launch. Gray smoke poured out of the bottom of the vessel, and a small metal walkway began to retract from the door. Not wanting to leave the invader inside to his sinister intentions, Chase sprinted down the walkway and dove in, just as the door closed. Only seconds later, the spaceship began its ascent into the unknown.

As the ship flew upward, gravity began to lose its grip. Slowly, Chase floated into the air. Other things began to float as well; tables, chairs, tools, and anything else that hadn't been bolted down now spiraled through the ship. Chase kicked off of the wall, toward the door of the cockpit. The door, made of the same thick metal as the rest of the ship, had been bolted shut; whoever was inside didn't want Chase to get in. Snatching a wrench out of the air, Chase began to work at the door. After a few minutes, the dozen or so bolts had been removed, and were floating through the room. Still holding the wrench, Chase took a deep breath, and kicked at the door, popping it into the cockpit. Chase pushed off of the opposite wall, into the door. "Freeze! You're under arrest!"

Slowly, the pilot's chair spun around. A man, dressed in a tuxedo and tie, sat in the chair. Chase froze, paralyzed with fear, in the presence of his arch nemesis. "Doctor X?"

"Yes, Mr. Jackson. It seems we meet again, hmm?"

"How did you get in here? This was supposed to be top secret!"

"Ah, Mr. Jackson, you underestimate me. When I learned that you were on a vacation, I knew it would be the perfect time to take a look around. So, I sent a few of my best men in to investigate. When they told me that there was a spacecraft, I knew I just had to take it for a drive."

"So you managed to get past the guards, then?"

"Mr. Jackson! Didn't you notice amidst all the sirens and lights that nobody had bothered to take a look at what was going on? They're all tied up in the storage room!"

"This ends here, X!"

"No, Mr. Jackson, this is only the beginning!" Upon saying these last words, Doctor X jumped out of his seat, into the air. Chase pulled his gun, but quickly put it away; one wrong shot could puncture the wall, and they would both be doomed. Holding the wrench in front of him, Chase glided toward the Doctor. He swung the wrench, but his opponent was too fast for him. Knowing there was no way to catch the Doctor, Chase swam down to the control panel and pressed the emergency stop.

"Damn you, Chase! I will not let you get away from me this time!" The Doctor reached into his jacket, and procured a plastic box. "This is my present to you, Mr. Jackson: C4 explosive! Thirty seconds, and there will be nothing left of this but space dust!" Doctor X threw the box to the floor, and it began to beep.

"That's where you're wrong, X!" The wrench left Chase's hand, and hit the Doctor in the stomach. Out of breath, he fell. Chase jumped over the Doctor to the door, and went to the bottom of the ship. He opened a small hatch, labeled "EMERGENCY: Escape Pod." Ducking inside, Chase locked the door and launched. As he hurtled towards Earth, he watched the ship explode behind him.

---

Finally back into his recliner, Chase sipped some champagne. "I guess you never take a vacation in my line of work," he said to himself as the sunset bathed the worth in pink and orange light.

*BEEP*

Chase, fast asleep, ignored the sound which penetrated his subconscious.

*BEEP BEEP*

Chase, now actively trying to shut off his hearing abilities turned around and pulled whatever he could find over his head to block out the irritating sound interrupting his dream world.

*BEEP* *BEEE-EEEP*

“Dammit! Whàt?” Chase yelled.

Irritated beyond a doubt he jumped up, only to look straight into the void that is space.

“Oh, yeah,” he mumbled, “we’re doing the space-adventure thing today.”

He grabbed the script that was laying on the control panel in front of him and took a short gaze at the title. “Chase Invaders,” he read out loud, “geez, you can almost smell the lack of inspiration coming from this one.”

As he screened through the first few pages of the 12 chapters thick paperwork, he progressed from his pilot-chair to the coffee machine. He looked up from the papers to the contraption in front of him and couldn’t withhold a short grunt. Chase never understood the desperate attempts of complexity they always tried to build into these things. It had more resemblance to a death-blast-multibeam cannon, than it did to a coffee machine. Arguably uncertain of his choice, he pushed a couple of buttons after which a small cup dropped out of an opening on the right, already filled with a nasty-looking black substance.

He grabbed the mug, looking at it for a second with a sense of uncertainty before taking a little sip of it. “Ah, at least the coffee isn’t shallow and small-minded. Unlike other things around this place.” he mumbled, throwing the script into the pilot-chair. He walked up to the big window in front of it and took a look at the great blackness, spread all over the big screen.

To his left a shiny object came into image. Growing gradually into a big round item, with a small twirling of bricks floating around it. It was the tenth planet of the solar system. The first lines of the script said it was up to him, the great Chase Jackson, to find out what that big brick of dirt and ice was all about. “Nuttin much, if you ask me,” Chase said to himself. “Probably not even equipped with a descent bar, just like every other planet I visited this week.” Chase grabbed the script. The first page was a bit furrowed from its trip across the space-ship and he gave it another spin, back to the control panel in front, before plunging back into the pilot seat.

As the ship started turning towards the planet, suddenly a whining siren started to emerge from its speakers. “Proximity Alert!” a mechanical voice informed him, “Incoming missile!”

Chase jumped up from the chair and grabbed the manual controls of the ship. He looked around in the direction of the planet, wondering where the alert could possibly come from, as he saw a speck of flickering light, coming from the right side of the globe. “Evasive action undertaken” the voice said and the ship took a quick swing to the left. Chase lost his grip on the manual controls and tumbled backwards, throwing his cup of coffee into the air. The first thing that came to mind was that this wasn’t in the script. The second thing was that the coffee was going to be very – very hot if he decided to catch it with his face.

He rolled over to the right, when a giant chock pierced through everything in the ship. The missile had missed him and had detonated only a couple of yards behind the ship.

Suddenly, all the lights flickered red and a rapid descent to the planets surface seemed to be the computer’s reaction to this sea of illumination. Loosing altitude fast, Chase crawled back into the pilot seat and started pulling levers and bashing buttons to make the landing a bit less violent. He grabbed the stick in front of him and pulled with all his might. The dive of death became a dive of pain, as he managed to get the speed under control right before the vehicle would hit the ground. Still packed with an excessive amount of down force, the ship made a large roll to the left, hitting the ground hard enough to form a big crater. Chase, once again thrown across the room, ended up underneath the giant coffeemaker and cursed the souls of those behind this vicious attack.

Slowly he arose from his horizontal position and looked at the window. It was shattered to pieces and behind the broken remains, Chase could clearly see a flicker of movement.

“Oh no they don’t,” Chase encouraged himself, “I’ll just give them something to shoot at.” He crawled up to his weapon compartment. Equipping himself with enough gunpower to make Trusty old Arnold pee his pants and walked up to the devastated remains of the window. The first blast out of his plasma gun instantly vaporised 20 of the planet’s inhabitants. “Attack me, will you? Clearly you’ve never heard of Chase Jackson!”

Evil laughter filled his lungs as he stepped outside. Screw the script. Lets do it the CJ way!

“Blue...Red...black.” Chase thought, sweat dripping from his face. How did he get into this mess? His space adventure had become a matter of life and death. Not only his life, but of life itself. What got him here? Time seemed to jump to get him between this rock and a hard place. The timer was ticking down from fifty seconds. How was he to know that a classic villain-thwarting mission would cause the fate of the world to be in his sweating hands?
“You cannot win, Jackson!” the villain laughed on the floor, tied with the wires that Chase had cut. Chase smirked at that memory. The villain had caught Chase on this moon base because somehow, he knew Chase was coming and he himself (with a few cronies) met Chase at the entrance of his white base.
“The infamous Chase Jackson! We meet at last.” The villain had said. His cronies pointed their rifles at Chase, who removed his space helmet and rose his hands in the air. “There is no escape, Jackson! Not even for you.” Chase counted the cronies. Seven, counting the villain. “I am Doctor Egortsle and you are on my moon base.”
“I know that, doctor. What else could it be called?” Chase had replied.
“Silence! This base is no ordinary base! It’s a doomsday weapon! In exactly two minutes, this base will rupture the moon, causing it to send chunks of itself hurtling towards Earth, destroying life and beginning anew!” Egortsle said. He was obviously full of himself.
“Why? So you can rule over the remains and the new?” Chase scoffed, “typical.”
“Silence!”
“Here we go…” Chase sighed. He threw his helmet at one of the cronies, striking him in the head and distracting the rest. He rolled on the white tile floor and bowled over another crony, taking his rifle and striking one readying his aim with the stock. He took that rifle as well and shot two different cronies and barely dodged a poorly aimed dart. He shot the sender of that dart and shot the crony next to him. He then aimed his two rifles at Egortsle, who was stunned. “Please tell me you have more men.” Egortsle stared at him and then at the bodies of his men.
“Those are dart rifles. You simply knocked my men out.”
“Duh, There’re darts stuck in them.” Chase said. Egortsle smirked and laughed and whipped out a pistol, but Chase was too quick for him and struck his hand with the stock of one of his rifles, which he had flipped to hold by the barrel. He then shot a dart into the doctor’s neck and grasped him by the collar. “Where’s the device?” Egortsle, who was easily intimidated, pointed to a door down the hall and fell unconscious. Chase dragged him to the door and pressed the doctor’s palm to the reader. The door shot open and he entered. He was presented with a tiny room with nothing but a white counter and a panel in the counter like a cabinet. He thrust this open and was presented with an array of wires and a button labeled “self-destruct.”
“Hilarious.” Chase said. He saw a toolbox that was carelessly left out near the cabinet. Inside was a pair of wire cutters. “There has to be a catch here.” Chase shrugged and cut the wires to the self-destruct button. There was a timer near him that was counting down from sixty seconds. Chase used the self-destruct button’s wires to tie Egortsle up so he wouldn’t leave.
That’s how he got here, apparently. Forty-six. Chase separated the wires and looked to see where they went, which was the same place: a large hole leading into the wall behind the counter. He tugged gently on each wire and the yellow wire simply fell out. Three wires to choose from. Thirty-nine.
“There’s no way, Jackson! Only I know which wire to be cut, and there’s no way you can get it out of me!” the doctor cackled. Thirty-two…Think! Thirty-one…Black is death…Red is blood…blue is Earth…twenty-eight…why would the wires be coded to their purpose? Twenty-six…cutting the blue would symbolize destroying earth…cutting the red would symbolize ending life...Cutting the black would symbolize ending death! Black, then!
“Make your choice!” the doctor shouted. Eighteen.
“Quiet, you insane fool!” Chase said. Sixteen.
“You can’t do it! There’s no way!” Fourteen. What was the color again?
“Not if you keep distracting me!” Chase said. Eleven. Red? No…blue just seems too colorful. Chase rested the cutters on the black wire…
“Hurry up, you idiot!” the doctor said.
“Will you shut up?” Chase shouted, turning to face the doctor and accidentally squeezing the cutters and cutting the wire. He faced it again and found he had cut the wire. Two…one…nothing. “Thank God.”
Now what?

In the air lock Chase thought over how he had come to be on the space station floating just above the gravitational pull of Mars.

He shouldn’t have had that last margarita at the company picnic. He knew that, now. Driving his car through the front door of his boss’ house hadn’t been on his list of ‘to do’s’ for the day. Though that hadn’t been as bad as when the car had finally rolled to a stop in front of the bathroom door and jumping out, he’d flown at the door delivering a very well placed flying kick to it (of course, thinking some damsel was in distress and needed saving), the door had popped open and there had sat his boss, on the throne, with the latest edition of Big Girls Play Rough magazine, which he’d promptly dropped in front of him. No, that hadn’t been good, but the true undoing for Chase Jackson was when he couldn’t help saying as he glanced down at the magazine laying on the floor, “Whoa, is that your wife with the submachine gun and the carrot?”

One of these days he was going to have to learn to hold his liquor, or his tongue, he thought.

The doors to the air lock whooshed open and Chase stepped into the stations main hallway. The hallway was one long corridor that round around the entire complex. All rooms lead off of this one center walkway. He could reach anywhere on the station from this corridor. He checked the blue print again to find out where the lab for genetic research was located. Seems the big boys up here were playing a bit out of their field, and it was his job to reign them in. This is what happens he thought, when you don’t oversee things yourself. People take advantage and somebody gets crazy with power. It was his job to check that power and return things to normal.

Walking along the corridor he glanced in a few of the rooms he passed. Vegetation so dense he couldn’t see five feet into the room, shaking his head, he hoped he’d never have to go in there. Looked like a jungle. Passing another door he saw a man with a sword tumbling and kicking at nothing, odd, maybe that was that holographic room he’d seen on the blue print. He mentally made a note to check back in that room when he was finished his work.

He approached the lab door with caution, he didn’t dare peek his head up to look in the window. Wouldn’t do to warn them he was coming, better to take them by surprise. He used the all purpose card that he’d been given when he ‘took’ the assignment and slipped it through the device on the wall. The doors whooshed open and Chase rolled through them. He quickly came to his feet and assessed the situation. No guns on the station, he knew that, this was all about speed and quickness and agility. He dove for the first guy and knocked him to his knee’s, then drove his knee into his bent forehead and watched as he tumbled back against the wall.

One down, there should be five more, Chase thought. He rolled under the nearest lab table and looked around. He spotted the others over by a cage of some sort. The bars reached the high ceiling and were as thick as his forearm. No time to think about what they breed here, time to do my job. Chase rolled out from under the table and jumped up, knocking the table leg as he did. The flasks broke and a blackish liquid spilled onto the floor. A thin mist filled the air. Chase coughed and leaped across the nearest table as everyone turned towards him.

A flying kick landed squarely in the plump scientists belly and a great wheezing sound came out of his mouth. He dropped to one knee and grabbed his stomach. Two down, four to go. He came up quickly and punched into the mist and with his keen hearing and cat like reflexes, he dropped a large bulk of a man backwards, and then with a round house kick to the side of the man’s head, he heard him thud against the cage. Three down, three to go, he thought as he squatted and listened for the sound of movement from the others.

“Chase? Chase Jackson is that you?” He recognized that voice, and it did not bode well that it was here. “Chase, cut it out! This is the pet center and you are scaring fluffy!”

Chase removed his flashlight and checked the blue print again. He turned it over, “ahhhhhhh, uh, sorry guys.”

“See the world!” they promised when they employed me. And when I found out it was possible to add “from space” to that, I made sure it happened. Still, there were times I regretted signing on as an engineer for a secret moon base.

Since the start we’d encountered troubles beyond shipping parts across space and keeping away from public notice. The brass pinpointed it as sabotage, and sent their top operative – the famous Chase Jackson – to investigate. Though I had nothing to hide, only my air-conditioned spacesuit kept sweat building from thinking of Chase watching my every move, ready to leap at me after any mistake.

I was quite relieved when my work outside was done for the day, and I could escape my gear. My helmet was off and I had slipped one arm off, when without warning or command, both hatches shot open. Luckily I was seated, and could grab onto a bench, though the helmet went flying away. I hung on for dear life, gasping for air and wishing I’d routinely done more pull-ups. I could feel my grip slipping and my lungs aching; I needed to do something quick!

I carefully crawled along the bench. Hugging the wall, I pushed off the bench and “swam” as best I could, focusing on the manual lever to shut the inner hatch. Closer it came, until I was just able to touch it. Bracing my feet against a wall I pulled it down. I felt like screaming in victory as the door slowly closed – but found I had no breath. At this I apparently let go, as I found myself scrambling for anything to grab as I floated towards the quickly closing door. Not fast enough, I feared, as I felt my feet go past them. I briefly shut my eyes against the sight of my doom, until I realized something – I’d stopped moving. Pressure at my sides told me what I soon saw: I was wedged in the hatch. Thoughts of ribs cracking made me try to squirm free, but it seemed little use – either lack of oxygen would get me, or the doors would. Just before I passed out, the hall door opened.

A figure in a spacesuit quickly entered, hooked themselves to the wall, and closed the hall door. They slid towards me, leaving a rope line behind them. They positioned themselves, feet on the hatch and shoulder around my free arm, pushing until my other arm and torso were loose. As they pulled my legs out, the suit flew away and the hatch snapped shut.

After gravity kicked in – while I lay on the floor recovering – my rescuer tilted their visor. Chase Jackson stared back at me, looking concerned. I tried to eke out a “Thanks”, but he waved it off.

”Always happy to help a beautiful lady.” He said with a confident smile.

Considering the thoughts running through my head, it was likely best I couldn’t respond to that. As he helped me up and led me away, I found I had no time for anger, anyway – at least not at him. He filled me in: someone had hacked into the main computers, causing havoc and death whenever possible. The high-ups had ordered an evacuation, and Chase was rounding up everyone he could find. He led to others, and quickly gathered all the protection and few weapons we could, before heading out.

Chase became an impressive leader, keeping panic away and praising our slow-but-steady progress. Our saboteur didn’t make it easy: we had to deal with traps, closed containment doors and just plain dead ends. I was just thankful that the laser defenses weren’t ready yet. The anticipation was palpable when we finally raised the last door between the hanger and us.

But when it opened, we were staring at an army of the station’s robots. They were mostly for cleaning or carrying equipment, but they advanced on us with crude weapons and glowing eyes. Chase charged forward, yelling encouragement at us. Feeling full of adrenaline, I followed, right along with many of my co-workers. Most of us had little to no training in fighting, but strength in numbers and teamwork erased any disadvantage. Plus there was Chase, a whirlwind of punches and kicks, dispatching enemies and clearing our path to the largest transport ship.

We hustled in and prepared to depart. As the systems came on-line, I waited by the door, watching Chase cover our retreat. As the rear thrusters came on, Chase dove in. This time I helped him to his feet, and we both scrambled to our seats. The bay doors were forced open (our saboteur resistant to the last), and we literally rocketed away. As I watched the base shrink, I promised myself that I’d return with the reinforcements, and next time I’d be ready for action!

“Ready then?” crackled the speaker in the cabin.

“Sure thing Steve” replied Commander Grub.

“Here goes then”.

As the New-Gen Shuttle ‘Bounty’ lifted off Chase fought the 7 G’s to twist to Commander Grub and shouted, “What about 10..9..?”

Grub shouted back “Only on TV”.

In 66 hours Chase would be touching down on the moon. The first man for over 30 years. Yes it would be dangerous. They couldn’t turn round. No time for repairs, no second chances.

3 days earlier Chase had been training FBI agents on how to de-activate Viral Explosive. Then Phil Tanner, Defense Secretary, breezed into the room.

“Chase” Phil shouted as he walked through the room without slowing, “follow me”.

Command-One is smaller than you’d expect for the most well connected room in America. 6 ordinary looking computers, two 4-foot plasma displays and 6 landlines. But when something was happening you knew you were in the eye of the storm. As Chase entered he knew this was it. The 14 Alpha Operatives fell silent.

“Chase, you gotta job to do – we got you the best team, so you’d better grab a seat” barked Secretary Tanner.

As the gravitational forces eased Chase craned his neck to take in the team.

Mike Grub – Commander; in his forties he still wouldn’t have looked out of place in the NFL, but despite his brutish build he did have 16 years NASA experience.

Crimson Enall – Telecommunications, MIT Professor. Chase couldn’t imagine her male student’s ever learnt anything. Her long black hair had been scraped back but she still looked as if she belonged on a billboard.

Brian Prince – Engineer. Widowed at 26, he was studious and had 53 patents to his name. And lots of cash.

‘They were right about the best team’ thought Chase. A few minutes later as the thunderous noise subsided Chase shouted to Commander Grub “Do you really think we’ll pull this off?”

“I’m sure you will” shouted Grub with a smile.

The speaker crackled into life “That’s you guys outta atmos, good luck”

“Roger” replied Grub.

The crew began to undo their belts.

“Hold on to something for a few minutes” advised Grub as the weightlessness kicked in.

The next two days gave Chase time to consider his mission. Re-establish the Sat-Com link with the Delta14 rocket. Ever since his meeting with Tanner he’d thought about how stupid Mankind had been. Slinging a rocket onto the Delta14 comet simply to bring it close enough to study. The damned signal was lost and instead of heading for the Earth’s orbit the comet was heading for Earth.

With the Moon growing larger Chase realised there would be no Plan B.

Chase recognised the landing spot as they began the first orbit of the Moon. They had two hours.

“Next time round we’re going down” said Prince – Chase was surprised, but in space everyone had the stealth of an assassin.

“I hope you brought your screwdriver” said Chase turning with a smile.

25 minutes later they were ready. 90 minutes.

Grub would be controlling the landing. Prince, Enall and Chase would make surface-fall.

Without windows in the lander they could only wait tensely as they fell towards the surface. The landing was a shock.

“You guys ok?” asked Grub

Chase hit the transmit button, “Just great” he said, as he climbed off the floor.

“I’ll be out of contact until it’s over – good luck”. Less than an hour until the comet reached the point of no return.

Once they’d reached the satellite they quickly began the work. Prince checked the mechanical aspects. Did the motor work? Was the solar panelling ok? Enall plugged into the processor and began checking the frequencies.

Chase oversaw their activity, helping where he could. Minutes raced by. Enall tutted. Prince sighed.

“Anything?” asked Chase, trying to stay calm.

“…no” replied Prince after an eternity.

It went very quiet.

After a minute or so Enall stopped working and turned to Chase. “Just the end of your world” she said with a satisfied smile.

There was less than 5 minutes remaining. He wasn’t sure how, but Crimson Enall was part of a conspiracy. Enall stepped back, laughing. From her kit-box she’d produced some sort of weapon.

“You idiots,” she shouted through the intercom “we won’t stand for any macho oppression in the New Women’s World Order y’know”.

Chase stepped forward.

“Oh no cowboy,” Enall raised what Chase now recognised as an electronic gun.

Prince used his newly acquired assassin skills to great affect. Once Prince’d knocked the gun from Enall’s hand Chase sent her crashing to the ground.

Prince held Enall down as Chase turned his attention to the satellite.

“Enter Frequency Modulator” read its screen.

With a grim expression Chase entered 84115. The dish fizzed into life.

Prince smiled “You got ‘em”.