by Rok Chillah
"What are they?" Ridge said.
"Ridge?" Tomson called out in a worried voice.
"Coming. I've got someone with me." Even as Ridge responded, he felt Caulfield's hand drop away. Turning, he saw that the old man had pitched face-forward and lay gasping on the wood-like rail ties. Ridge called out: "Tomson! Medic!" he knelt down on the tracks, even as he heard scrambling feet coming close.
"Save yourselves," Caulfield gasped. His eyes were staring, and his body lay hunched and helpless. Suddenly he looked small and frail. Ridge saw dried blood on his back, and a dirtied rip in the fabric of Caulfield's jumpsuit. The feet running close were those of Tomson and Mughali, their booted soles pushing heavy, sandy dust aside with each fleeting stride. "What is this?" Tomson said. Mughali skidded to a halt kneeling beside Ridge. Her face looked worried and confused. Tomson looked more implacable as he started to open the first aid kit slung over his chest.
"Help him," Ridge said frantically. "He has information we need."
Tomson shook his head slowly. Mughali looked from Caulfield to Tomson to Ridge and back with wide eyes.
"We need to know what he was talking about," Ridge said. "Mudmen. Danger."
Tomson shook his head slowly. His big dark hands were frozen on the first aid kit, but he showed no sign of opening it. Mughali said: "Look at him, Ridge. The man won't need any help from us."
Ridge looked down at Caulfield. Ridge's eyes strained to take in the sight of Caulfield's face, from whose mouth and nose a thick black stream of gore had splashed. Tomson turned the old man on his back and used one hand to check the man's neck for a pulse. Tomson shook his head. Ridge stared at the body, whose eyes were already sinking inward and whose brown-spattered mouth gaped. Something about that face troubled Ridge, but he couldn't think what it might be, and there was no time to leisurely puzzle things through. Ridge heard Jerez's voice from a distance and looked up. Jerez seemed to be arguing with Brenna. "Some of us want to go back," Jerez said. Brenna replied: "We have to stick together, and Ridge is the one in charge." To which Jerez said: "The hell with Ridge. He doesn't know anything more than you or I do." To which Brenna replied with silence, bless her. Ridge held his head in his hands and shook it slowly. What to do? What to do?
Tomson shook Ridge's shoulder gently. "We can't leave our people scattered all over the place. Want to go back or dig in?"
Ridge looked up with sudden determination. He rose. "We came to do a job. That's what we'll do. Get the others assembled in the cave. I'll go in for a look at Caulfield's little hideout." Without stopping to answer questions or objections, he left Tomson to carry out the order, and strode back into the cave.
Ridge clambered over the rampart Caulfield and his compatriots had erected. He noted the strung lights, which appeared to be lined up to drive back whoever these creatures were. Ridge guessed that the mudmen did not like loud noises either. There had to be a way of reaching the Bridge. Congratulating himself on having made the best of possible bad choices, Ridge descended through a short shaft into what looked like a WorkPod, minus the luxurious living quarters, showers, weight training equipment, and so forth. Where had Caulfield's fellow technicians gone? Had Caulfield gone crazy and killed them all? Was the whole song and dance about mudmen the raving of a sick mind? Ridge remembered the body on the tracks. Could it really be the body of some being cobbled together with chemistry and stray body parts? Or was it part of some insanity of Caulfield's? Horrifying as the latter possibility might be, Ridge hoped it was the case, rather than even scarier and far murkier alternatives. Somehow, he had a bad feeling about the whole matter, and his feeling got worse as the minutes wore on. He found a series of concrete-like tunnels housing some of the electronic nerve centers of the ship. Room after room contained similar huge banks of lights, coils of cable, workstations, and generators. There was a bathroom with a toilet, and a single sink with one cold-water faucet. Ridge cautiously tested the sink and was able to draw a liberal supply of clean, fresh water. Satisfied, he stepped back. That was a major plus. He completed a quick tour of the facility. Noting tools strewn everywhere, he surmised that many work crews were working here around the clock, and had been for a long time, to restore functionality to the ship. How long had it been? The question nagged at him, fueled by the disturbing age and destruction of the ship. In the back he walked into a long, narrow greenhouse, the first of a bank of such greenhouses, easily two or three miles' worth of fruits and greens growing in hydroponics tanks. Somehow, Caulfield's and other work teams had kept strings of special lights working, which kept the plants going.
Did this have any relationship to the excellent functioning of WorkPod01 and its like? Filled more with questions than understanding, Ridge returned to the entrance of the work area. There he found that Tomson had assembled the other six staff members, whose expressions ranged from scared and unhappy to sullen. Tomson said: "We're ready to start work. What do you want us to do?"
Chapter 6
The Bridge CP or Command Post did not respond to Ridge and Tomson's urgent attempts to obtain guidance. Time and again, they tried to raise Captain Venable or anyone in the CP, to no avail. There were several antique, scratched wall screens in various parts of the work area, and they powered up easily enough, but all they yielded was either a white blankness or a greenish, grainy static. Sometimes, there would be a black screen with irregular, faint bluish sine waves undulating in apparently random patterns. Never was there a written or spoken, or a talking head; just endless cryptic silence.
"What are we doing here?" Jerez said with a pale face, embracing herself with pudgy arms and shivering. Her eyes looked large and scared, and she spoke for everyone. At times, Mughali seemed very strong as she bantered with Mahaffey or Yu, and at other times she might sit in a corner sobbing.
Tomson had definitely assumed his place as Ridge's second in command, and Ridge was grateful for the support. At times he wished Tomson would just take over, period, but the tall dark-skinned man seemed too smart to pick up that load. "What have we gotten ourselves into here?" Tomson would say at odd moments, examining the dusty and half-ruined work area to which a crisp and chipper Captain Venable had sent them just hours earlier.
Brenna found the clothing of several lost workers tossed in a heap near the rear exit that led into endless yawning night. The uniforms were torn and bloody, and thrown haphazardly among the rail ties leading into other industrial areas of the ship. The discarded web straps were frayed and severed as if something with great force had chewed through them. "There is no sign of any bodies," Brenna said with a gloomy expression on grayish-brown shadowed features. The lovely lines of her face looked moody and shadowed, as if inked along with the onyx of her large, weeping eyes. It was the first time that Ridge ever touched her, standing beside her, putting one arm around her. Her shoulder briefly nudged against his ribs before they both pulled away. Nobody had noticed, since the others stood at an angle before them in the tunnel with its single yellow light in a wire cage above.
"Could be Caulfield's shift," Tomson said as he squatted to touch several pieces of torn and bunched khaki cloth. He lifted a piece and sniffed it. "Still smells of blood and sweat--mostly sweat, sour with fear." He made a distasteful expression and tossed the cloth down. He rose. "Ridge, let's get it over with and go back to WorkPod01."
"Agreed," Ridge said. He looked at his chronometer. "Thirty two hours left in our obligation before the next shift comes here."
"Shouldn't we warn them not to?" Lantz said. She undid her ponytail and tightly rewound it.
"We're trying to raise the CP," Ridge said. He worried about hysteria spreading among his seven charges; or worse yet, that he might succumb to the irrational desire to bolt and start running madly in the direction of WorkPod01. Remembering the fate of the man beating on the window with bloody palm prints, it seemed like the worst thing to do.
Tomson seconded: "We're doing everything we can, and it's up to each of us to act cool and remain professional."
>
Lantz flared back: "You think we aren't being cool and professional?"
"Speak for yourself," Jerez said, defensively wrapping her arms around herself.
For a moment the entire work group stood staring at Ridge, as if on the verge of breaking ranks and leaving. He couldn't blame them, but he hoped he could hold the group together until help or advice or guidance arrived-anything, to break the increasing air of confusion.
Mahaffey spoke up bravely: "I saw a tangle of cables back there leading into the transformer. Until I'm told otherwise, I think I'll go sort that out." He looked at his fellow metallurgic tech, Lantz. "Care to join me?" Lantz nodded with looked almost of relief at getting some direction. Brenna, as Chemical Engineer 1, nodded. "I'm with you guys. Anything to keep busy until someone sends us a signal." She almost smiled, and several people laughed nervously in response.
"Good! That's it," Ridge said. "We have three handguns, and we'll take turns standing watch so everyone's back is covered. I don't know about you, but I hate to sit around and be idle. Let's find and tackle the work that is all around us, crying out to be done. There's obviously been a disaster here, and we need to fix the mess." He almost added "or we don't get home" but that seemed like a ridiculously pessimistic thing to say in this already dire situation. Tomson nodded in agreement near him, and he was quietly grateful for the man's support.
Yu, as Bio-Engineer 1, turned to Jerez, who was a Cyber-Engineer 2. "If you can find us some wetware neural nodes, I might be able to start tracking what's wrong here."
"Good point," Jerez said. She glanced stoutly toward Ridge for approval, but did not seem to be waiting for his go-ahead. "What do you say, Ridge?" even as she and Yu turned to go back into the bowels of the work area. As a Cyber-Engineer 1, Ridge had to agree. "It's as good a plan as any," he told her.
Within a short time, they had full power restored. "Looks like Caulfield was conserving," Ridge said as he paused. He was covered with sweat. He wiped gloved hands over his forehead. Nearby, Tomson cut off a small brazing torch. His dark skin glistened with droplets of sweat. "Man, this place is spooked," Tomson said in a low voice. "Don't let the others hear, but I think it's going to take an army of technicians to get this place working. Maybe that's how the whole ship is."
Ridge laughed nervously. "Come on, you're giving me goose bumps. You know we were safe and sound in our nice warm WorkPod01 just a few hours ago listening to music and showering and stuff. This is strictly nuts."
Tomson looked at him strangely. "You think we're going to get back to WorkPod01 in one piece?"
Ridge felt a dryness in his mouth that belied his own jaunty reply. "Yes I do. Lighten up, Tomson."
"Something dragged off those workers. They wouldn't just leave their clothes lying around, unless you think they went nuts and ran off singing."
"They were here a long time," Ridge said. "The blood and sweat were still fresh, but Caulfield was an old man. The Corporation wouldn't let an old man ship out on the Neptune run, so figure it out for yourself."
"Yeah?" Tomson leaned chin-forward and said: "Oh yeah? Then figure this out. We were supposed to be on Triton in one year. Caulfield was a man at least seventy years old when he died there a little while ago heaving half his body organs out of his mouth. You figure that out and tell me when you know the answer." Tomson slipped his brazing goggles back on, making his eyeballs look opaque and inscrutable. They glittered and flashed as his small hand-welder flared back up. He resumed repairing severed wires.
Frustrated, Ridge threw down the metallic flowcharts he'd been studying and went out to visit the others. He found Jerez and Yu on station with their guns in the entrance. "Any signs of funny little gray men?" They did not share his sense of humor, but shook their heads darkly in reply. Ridge checked the gun on his own belt. "I'll be back to relieve one of you in a few minutes. Yu, I'll relieve you and you can go help Tomson. He's bitching and moaning back there in the communications center." Ridge wandered on through tight, dark spaces--through the galley, through darkened and uncomfortable chambers stuffed with equipment--until he came to the main transformer and throughput node for wireless transmission. The two women, Jerez and Lantz, hung on the sides of a globular pod. Its round, pewter-dull metallic hood stood open, and they leaned inside to work. Their headlamps were on, and their expressions mirrored confusion while their fingers flicked idly from one tangle of wires and coils to the next. "Ridge," Jerez said, "this is like trying to find a meatball in fifty tons of spaghetti."
"It's hopeless," Lantz chimed in. "These circuits are dead cold. We're trying to find a spark, a glimmer of data potential anywhere, and it's like she says. Where's the meatball?"
"Wish I knew," Ridge said. "I'm starting to feel just a bit hungry now that you mention food. If nothing else, we can get together and cook a hot meal."
He wandered further back into the guts of the station, to the experimental greenhouse. Corporations were forever experimenting with growing things in space, trying to combine the characteristics of crystals and charge particles and chlorophyll-driven Earth biology to come up with better ways of sustaining travelers in space. There, under a whitish light that made the outlying walls look all the blacker, he found Brenna. "What are you doing?"
She looked up with a faint smile of bravado. "Checking the plants for abnormalities."
"Why? You're a chemical engineer. Do something chemical."
"Ha ha, like what?"
"I don't know. Chemical." He gestured helplessly as he stood very close to her. He could almost smell the heat of her body emanating up from the shadowy recesses of her dark suit. Never had he longed so much to crawl into a dark space and curl up, to hide from reality. There was no place he wanted to be so much as beside her right now. He studied the minute peach fuzz on her fine cheekbones, the tiny scar on her right eyebrow (from a childhood accident with a swing, she'd told him). He leaned close to the pale, fragile column of her neck and inhaled the warmth rising from her body. He could smell the faintly lavender fragrance of her shower soap, and closed his eyes.
"What are you doing, Ridge?" she asked in a low, teasing voice.
He snapped back, straightened out. "Just wishing we were back home."
"Home home, or pod home?"
"Right now, honestly, I'd take pod home."
"Me too," she said, examining a tangled mass of roots attached to a dense ball of green sprouts.
"I'd curl up in my bunk," he said.
She grinned, and her white perfect teeth gleamed like ivory in the soft light. "So would I. Look at this plant." She held it up in the growth luminescence.
"I'd pull the covers over my head," he said, "and dream of you."
She froze and stared at him. Her eyes were very large. He'd said something he should not have said, and they both knew it. In that moment, as her smile changed into something arrested and uncertain, they both knew she felt the same way. It was a betrayal of the people they loved. "What about Dorothy?" she whispered in a voice so faint he could barely hear.
He did not know the answer. "What's with the plant?"
She looked at the plant in her hands as if rediscovering it. "Oh. This. It's been growing wild. See how the stems loop around each other? I was trying to figure out the pattern." She pointed with a soil-crusted fingertip. "See how the whorls go around in ellipses? It probably means these plants were exposed to some sort of diurnal solar cycle."
"In here?"
She shrugged. "We have a lot of research to do, and few answers as yet."
Tomson walked in. "How are you two doing?"
Ridge was startled. "Fine, fine." Brenna looked up, blushing, as if she'd been caught in a moment of intimacy. Tomson looked bewildered, but there was no chance for him to stare questioningly at them.
A scream resounded through the corridors, followed by cries, and then a man's voice wailing.
"That came from up front," Tomson said. Guns drawn, he and Ridge left Brenna where she stood and raced down the narrow corridor
s. "Don't leave me here!" Brenna wailed and started after them. Ridge glanced back at her, extending a hand to her. She was a trifle too slow, and he forged on as another scream resounded.
"Sounds like Yu or Mughali," Tomson said breathlessly as he and Ridge clawed and bounced their way through passages choked with equipment, some of which came pouring down out of rotting boxes and rat-gnawed bags as they struck shaky shelving with their shoulders. Music began loudly booming from all sides. "Over here!" Mahaffey's voice came. He sounded hoarse with fright. Ridge and Tomson burst into the entrance area behind the piled debris. Someone had turned on the banks of bright lights. Ridge found a bloody sight. Yu held the gun in trembling hands while sobbing uncontrollably.
Yu and Mahaffey stood at the base of the rocks. Yu had a gun in his hand, while Mahaffey held a flashlight. On the ground between them lay Mughali's weapon. Halfway up the pile lay the bloodied and ripped remains of the brilliant, diminutive Indian engineer. "Oh my God," Ridge said, feeling a ball of vomit welling up under his diaphragm. The woman's face was oddly mangled, so that her eyeballs stared in different directions, and the rest of her features were ground up so that the still wetly gleaming skull was partially visible under reddish gore. Her body had been torn and twisted by multiple powerful forces acting from different directions. Her uniform was twisted around and around, and her small boots pointed in odd directions, while her arms were pulled up and twisted and broken behind her oddly angled back. The sight of this vibrant, warm human being now nothing more than a tangle of shredded meat and bone made Ridge turn and toss the contents of his stomach violently against the wall. Mahaffey had apparently already done the same, judging from the ropes of yellow goo hanging from his lips as he stared in silent horror at Mughali's remains. Yu ran hysterically to the top of the pile and yelled: "Here, you sons of bitches, come and get this!" He fired two or three times into the dark, silent corridor. Zigzags and wireframes of bluish light flashed blindingly. The reports crackled in the air and faded. A stink of scorched dust drifted back as Yu readied to fire once more.
