Harris took a close look around the room again. It looked like the rest of the ship. Everything seemed in order. Nothing out of place.
“Have you been able to check the logs?” he asked Smith.
Smith leaned forward, grabbed a bound document and handed it to Harris. “The manual log stops on July 19th. We’ve not been able to access the mainframe as yet to get to the electronic logs,” he told him.
“Okay,” Harris said, “forget the comms for now. Get into that mainframe and get me those electronic logs. I want to know every single transmission that went in and out of here leading up to this blackout, as well as any information on the ships, cargo or otherwise that were incoming and outgoing from this station. We’re flying blind here. We need some information, any information. Do you understand? We’ve got five missing people to find.”
“Yes, sir,” they replied.
Harris nodded at him. “Call me as soon as you have something.”
“Yes, sir.”
Harris left the control room and decided to make his way around to Section Three and have a closer look at the staff quarters. All the while he ignored the muscles tensing in his neck and back, and the swirling in his gut. Something didn’t feel right. What the fuck happened here?
*
Carrie watched Colt yawn. Seconds later she was stifling a yawn herself. She’d been watching the monitors, but not a hell of a lot was happening. Louis and Carter were guarding the cell in silence, following standard UNF protocol.
Brown and Smith were trying to break into the Darwin’s mainframe with help from Hunter and Packham. Their conversations were somewhat geek-speak, but she listened regardless, through boredom mainly; her basic IT knowledge allowing her to grasp the general gist.
Harris was still looking through the staff quarters and not having too much luck, while both McKinley and Doc had switched their headsets off altogether.
Carrie gave in to a yawn. “I need to do something, or I’m going to fall asleep.”
“Me, too,” Colt agreed, stretching out.
“Shall we at least see if Doc needs a hand with something?”
Colt nodded and together they left the flight deck. They found Doc in his examination room, sitting on a stool alongside the far bench, reading an e-clip and scrolling through an e-file pane with his other hand.
“Hey, Doc,” Colt announced their arrival.
“Corporals,” he replied, looking up at them.
“You need a hand with anything, sir?” Colt asked.
“No, I’m all good.” Doc said. “The blood work is being tested as we speak.” He motioned to a white cylindrical piece of equipment sitting on the bench which emitted a low whirring sound. “And I’m about to take care of the data upload now.” He pointed to the e-clips in front of him.
Carrie nodded and Colt shuffled around on the spot.
“Those guys look normal to you, Doc?” Colt asked, stuffing her hands in her pockets.
“I guess that depends on how long they’ve been without food and water,” he said, turning back to the e-clips.
“They were acting pretty weird, though, huh?” Colt continued.
“Well, you deprive the body of food and water and your faculties become affected, especially your brain …” Doc’s voice trailed off as he became absorbed in the e-clips again.
Carrie and Colt stood there for a few moments in silence, before Carrie decided to break it.
“Doc, do you know why the captain wouldn’t let us take part in the boarding?”
He looked up and shook his head. “No, I don’t, corporal. Perhaps that’s something you should be asking him?”
“Based on the response we got earlier …” she shrugged, turning to Colt. “So much for this being a test case?”
“Why do you say that?” Doc asked.
Carrie looked back at him. “Well, if we’re not actually allowed to do anything when it counts, what’s the point? If this is a test case, shouldn’t we be tested?”
“Packham helped dock the ship.”
Carrie looked at Doc for a second and then glanced at Colt. “Yeah, well, we can’t fly ships so I guess that means we’re out of luck.”
“Be patient, Welles. I’m sure there’ll be work soon enough.”
“We’ll leave you to it, Doc.” Colt tapped Carrie on the arm and they headed over to the door, just as Harris entered.
“Soldiers,” he nodded.
“Captain,” they responded. Carrie did her best to avoid eye contact, though, still angry.
“You two might as well hit the sack. I need you to replace Louis and Smith on mess hall duty tomorrow morn— er …” Harris looked at his watch. “Make that this morning. 0630 sharp, breakfast is to be served. Understand?”
Carrie and Colt exchanged looks.
“Yes, sir,” they responded and left.
*
Harris watched Colt and Welles leave, hit the button by the door to shut it behind them, then walked over to Doc.
“What have you got for me?” he asked.
Doc turned on his stool to face him. “Well, on the face of it they look okay. They’re dehydrated but they generally look fine. However, they all have high temperatures, they’re sweating, they’ve got elevated heartbeats—and I’m talking on the verge of a mild heart attack. Their lung and brain scans seem alright, but when I was doing the brain scan, I noticed they all have these scars that trace along the backs of their ears?”
“What does that mean?” Harris asked him.
“It means they’ve had some sort of surgery on their ears, but nothing out of the ordinary showed up on the scan.”
“Did you ask them what it was from?”
“They said they had an implant when they first arrived on the station to combat space sickness, but after six months it was removed.”
“That’s possible.”
Doc shrugged. “Well, it’s possible, I guess, but all four of them suffering from space sickness?”
“And the scars look old?”
Doc nodded. “Yeah. They’re not recent. Not blackout recent, anyway.”
“So how long until the blood work is ready?”
“A couple of hours.”
Harris nodded.
“One other thing,” Doc said. “They’ve each got a barcode-like tattoo above their left wrists. There are six bars on each, alternating between thick and thin. Each has an individual number. And they’ve got several scars across their bodies, different on each of them.”
“And?”
“And, I don’t know … it’s just weird. They’re built like soldiers. They’re scarred like soldiers. They even seem to think like soldiers. Chet kept trying to find out how many more of us there were on this ship, like he was trying to figure out what they were up against. And they were fully checking everyone of us out, eyeing us head to toe, sizing us up.”
“Well, if they were attacked, they’re probably a little edgy around strangers,” Harris shrugged.
“Yeah, I don’t know. It just feels a little weird; something’s not sitting right for me.”
Harris thought about this for a moment. “Did you tell them how many we had on the ship?”
Doc shook his head. “Chet figured our pilots, but that’s about it. I let his imagination run wild. He knows we have more soldiers on board, I just didn’t let on how many.”
“Good, let’s keep it that way. Let me know the results of their blood work, and we’ll take it from there. Something isn’t sitting right for me, either. I’ve found nothing on the station to tell me what happened here. This place is too clean, too controlled.”
Doc nodded, and Harris turned to leave.
“Captain, one more thing?” Doc called after him.
Harris turned back and saw his lieutenant had a slight look of confusion across his face. “How come you didn’t let Welles and Colt join the boarding party?”
Harris stared at him for a moment. �
��You got a problem with my orders, Doc?”
“No, you always have a good reason. I’m just curious as to why?”
Harris stared at Doc again. The lieutenant noted his silence and continued on. “I thought this was a test case?”
Harris put his hands on his hips and sighed. Normally he wouldn’t respond if a solider questioned his orders or his motives, but his relationship with Doc was different, so he let it slide. Doc was his sounding board, a support mechanism to bounce ideas off, gain feedback from and sometimes, on those rare occasions, even a critique.
“You ever stop and think about the orders I get, Doc?” he asked, staring him squarely in the eye.
Doc looked puzzled for a moment. “That was an order from Command, not to let them take part? But they put them on here?”
Harris continued to stare at Doc, but didn’t respond.
“Why?” came Doc’s next question.
Harris shrugged. “Fuckin’ PR exercise, Doc.”
“Was it just for the boarding or indefinitely?”
“Until further notice, they are to remain on the ship.”
Doc nodded slowly, his mind clearly ticking over. “Interesting.”
“Isn’t it,” Harris said, leaving the room. He didn’t wish to go any further with the conversation right now. He didn’t understand it himself, so he certainly couldn’t explain it to Doc.
*
Harris, sitting in his office on the Aurora, looked up to see Doc at his door. It was 0321. Harris waited for him to speak.
“Blood work is fine. There are no antibodies present, the white blood cells are normal. There appears to be no known virus or bacteria present.” He shrugged. “Their blood count is fine.”
“So does that mean we have to release them?” Harris asked.
“Not necessarily. I’m not willing to accept responsibility for letting them go just yet, not while they’re still displaying the symptoms they are. For all we know they’re infected with some virus they themselves have created, that could maybe take several hours, even days, to fully display symptoms. I can’t risk it yet.”
“So what do you recommend?”
“I think we should hold them a while longer. I’ll do some more blood work in another 12 hours and make sure nothing has changed.”
Harris thought about this for a moment. “Agreed. I’d like some more time to get into those electronic logs and try to find out exactly what happened here before I let them go.”
Doc nodded.
“Okay, then, we’ll tell them the good news in the morning,” Harris concluded. “Right now, we should probably try and get a few hours sleep.”
“Agreed,” Doc replied, giving a wave as he left.
Harris let out a tired sigh, then stood from his desk and powered down the e-files he’d been reading. A few hours sleep was just what he needed to refresh and clear his mind. Something just wasn’t sitting right and it was bugging him and his gut no end.
*
Carrie looked at her watch. 0627. Any minute now, she was expecting the hungry hordes to fill the mess hall. It was her first time on Aurora mess hall duty and it was pretty straightforward. There was actually a detailed manual on how much food to serve, so she and Colt got to work preparing a heap of boiled and poached eggs, grilled ham, mushrooms, tomatoes, toast and a couple of jugs of juice, along with large pots of tea and coffee. It wasn’t what she thought she’d be doing on a mission like this, but at least she was finally being of some use.
Harris and McKinley were the first to enter. Harris didn’t look like he’d had much sleep, but McKinley looked fresh. Doc, Brown, Smith and Bolkov followed. They too looked a little weary; except Bolkov, that is. They lined up and began scooping food onto their plates, then sat down, managing to fit around the one table.
“So what’s the plan today, captain?” McKinley asked, between mouthfuls.
“You and Bulk are going to relieve Louis and Carter on that cell,” Harris responded, not looking up from his plate.
“They didn’t pass their physical?” McKinley looked over at Doc.
Doc exchanged a glance with Harris. “They did, but I want to wait another 12 hours to be sure.”
McKinley nodded and went back to his food.
Harris turned to Brown. “Now you and Smith have had some sleep, you’re going to get back to that mainframe, aren’t you?” he asked firmly.
“Yes, sir, we’re close,” Brown answered.
“Good. Make that a priority.”
Carrie watched the men chow down their food, then studied Harris sitting opposite her. She waited a moment to see if he was going to issue her with any orders. He didn’t.
“So, what would you like us to do today, captain?” Carrie prompted him.
Harris glanced up at her. “You’re on mess hall duty. You keep the rest of us fed and watered.”
“Yes, sir. And after that?” Carrie continued, looking him in the eye.
“You clean up and get ready for the next meal.”
She paused, feeling her face beginning to harden, “Yes, sir. And after that?”
Harris stared at her. “After that, you got some free time, until I otherwise allocate it.”
“Free time?”
“Yeah, you know, you do some target practice, work out in the gym, go for a run —”
“Can we go for a run on the Darwin?” Carrie interrupted.
“No, you cannot. The station is not for running. You want to run, you do it on the Aurora.”
“Sir, can we at least help you look for information on the Darwin?” Carrie was determined not to give up. “Surely a fresh set of eyes —”
Harris dropped his fork to his plate, eyes firmly fixed on hers. “Welles, you are on mess hall duty. That is your job. That is my order to you. You finish your job early, you do what you want, but you will do it on the Aurora. Do you understand me?”
The mess hall had fallen silent. Carrie felt her cheeks begin to burn. She didn’t understand why he was being like this. Why was he trying to block her efforts?
“I want in on the action, sir,” she said firmly. “I want to help!”
“Good to know,” he said sharply, as he continued to eat. “But right now, I don’t need you.”
“So, I can just go lie on my bunk and read a book then, sir?” she asked smartly.
Harris glared at her. “The order is clear. Do you, or do you not understand my order, Corporal Welles?” The volume of his voice had risen.
She glared back.
“We do, sir,” Colt answered for her.
“I’m not talking to you,” he snapped.
“Corporal,” Doc interjected, “I’ve got plenty of work you can do. You can help me out in the lab.”
Carrie glanced over at Doc. His eyes were wary, warning her to stop pushing Harris. She looked back at the captain, whose eyes were bulging a fierce glare in her direction, still waiting for an answer.
“Yes, sir,” she said with a tight jaw.
Harris continued to glare at her a moment then stood up sharply, grabbed his plate and stormed off, leaving the room.
The table sat quiet for a few seconds, before Smith looked over at her wide-eyed. “Jesus, Welles, you’ve either got a set of balls on ya or you’re —”
“— completely fuckin’ stupid!” McKinley muttered, shaking his head.
“Why?” she shot at McKinley. “Because I want to do my job? Because I want to do what I’m paid to do?”
“An order is an order! That’s what you’re paid to do,” he replied pointing his finger across the table at her. “To take fucking orders!”
“So if he ordered you to sit here on the ship and do nothing, you’d be fine with that?”
McKinley shrugged. “Well, you see, Harris would never order me to sit on the ship and do nothing.”
“Look, corporal,” Doc interjected again, “the captain’s order is final. Whether you like it or not, that’s i
t. End of story. Now drop it.”
Doc was clearly pulling rank to control the situation. She was fuming, but she relented. She had to. It was futile, as clearly their allegiance was to the captain. She fully understood the chain of command and the power of an order, but she was frustrated at being held back and it was her gut instinct to fight against it.
Packham and Hunter entered the mess then and headed for the food. McKinley looked over at them, then started to get up.
“Come on, Bulk. Let’s go relieve the Saffer and the Frenchie,” he said.
Bolkov grunted and stood up as well. He glanced at Carrie, shook his head, and they left the room.
Colt let out a big sigh, stood and headed over to the counter. Carrie looked at Brown who was eating quietly. He made eye contact with her, but then looked back down at his plate. He clearly wasn’t getting involved. She turned her eyes to Doc, who gave her a disappointed look.
She sighed and made her way over to the counter and began to clean up. Colt gave her a frustrated look and kept on working.
“We’ve got to stand up for ourselves!” Carrie protested.
Colt just put her hands up in the air, shook her head and walked over to the other side of the kitchen.
14
Logs
Harris sat in his office, where he’d finished eating his breakfast. He was pissed. He could understand Welles’s frustration, but she was way out of line questioning his order like that. Despite that, he was actually more pissed at Doc for intervening. He knew his lieutenant was just trying to calm the situation, but he should’ve kept his mouth shut. It hadn’t happened before. Even when Doc thought he was being harsh on a soldier, he normally refrained from passing judgment until they were alone. Intervening like that in front of the other soldiers belittled Harris’s authority and he could not have that on his ship.
He pushed his plate away angrily and slumped back in his chair. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Forget it. Deal with it later. Focus on the issue at hand. Find out what happened here. Find out what is going on with those survivors. Find out the truth. As soon as you get to the bottom of this, you can get back home and finish that leave. Thoughts of his son Ty and the basketball game he owed him filled his mind, and he remembered the disappointment in Taya’s voice. He sighed again and swallowed his anger, as the dream he’d had last night resurfaced. He’d been lost in a dark place, breathing heavily in fear, moving his weapon’s light about in the nothingness. He remembered being afraid of that darkness, and praying to find a way out of the trouble he was in. Then suddenly, his light shone on the faces of Sibbie and Etta, who reached out and latched onto him, saying: “Something’s wrong”. Panicked, he pushed them away, and awoke abruptly again in a pool of sweat.
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