Echoes In The Grey

by David Allan Hamilton

  “That’s beside the kitchen, right?”

  The comms officer threw him an odd look. “Beside the galley, yeah. You’ll find an air compressor in there. See all this here shit?” He pointed to the connection pins. Dust covered them completely. “You’re gonna have to pressure blow the crap out of these. Every piece has to sparkle, understand?”

  “Got it.”

  “Any problem, just holler at one of us.”

  Atteberry cradled the memory tubes and carried them off to the workshop. There was a small wooden bench and a standard set of tools: drill, saw, multiple screwdrivers, a couple of soldering guns, and other supplies like wire, strips of metal, PC boards. In the corner, he found the tabletop air compressor used in fine electronics. It sat beside an onboard 3-D printer.

  He studied the switches and nozzle, flipped the machine on, and waited for the pressure to build. Esther popped in behind him. “Quigg’s checking out the other tubes, but they don’t look to be in any kind of usable shape.”

  “We’d better hope they can access these two, then.”

  “Yeah.” She stood beside him at the bench, and inspected the cannisters under a magnification light. She paused, placed her hands down and sighed.

  “Something on your mind?”

  “I’m nervous about all this. I overheard the captain talking with Clayton. There’s a stand-off out there between one of his ships and a foreign spy vessel, and it’s creating all kinds of diplomatic problems.”

  Atteberry frowned. “That’s the least of my concerns right now.”

  “I know, Jim, I understand, but the last thing anyone needs is an interplanetary skirmish. Tensions are already at the boiling point, and it won’t take much to set one of these maverick captains off.”

  He moved the tubes aside. “What are you saying? That we may have to abandon the search for Kate and Mary?”

  She hesitated before answering. “What I’m saying is, Carter’s first priority is finding the Rossian ship and taking its tech, not rescuing your daughter.” She returned her gaze to the bench. “It wouldn’t surprise me if he takes off the minute he finds the alien technology, whether or not the women are there.”

  He worked his jaw, desperately hoping the anger that now seethed in his blood would dissipate. Esther rubbed his shoulder. “I’ll do everything I can to stop him from abandoning the search if it comes to that, Jim. You know that, don’t you?”

  He felt the fear and rage displaced by a new sensation of comfort. “I do.” The compressor pinged; it had reached the desired pressure. “You wanna help?”

  She smiled and, after finding a couple pairs of safety goggles and handing a set to him, she secured the first tube on the bench.

  Several minutes passed before they both were satisfied the connection points on the tubes would not get any cleaner. They each carried one back to the bridge. Jenson leaned over a tiny workspace to the left of the comms station while Quigg played with different controls and kept looking up at a small viewscreen.

  The display showed nothing but white noise.

  “Are y’all sure the data’s intact, Jenz?”

  “Affirmative. It’s in there, but we simply don’t have the right equipment to extract it.”

  “Okay, screw it. Let’s try one of them there clean ones.”

  Jenson disconnected the damaged tube and set it aside. Esther handed her the one she carried. The moment Jenson hooked it up to the input cable, Quigg’s display came to life. File after file scrolled down the viewscreen.

  “Beautiful, ain’t it Jenzie?”

  “Affirmative.”

  Atteberry stepped forward. “How can you tell what’s on it?”

  “Give ‘er a sec.” Quigg tweaked one of his controls and the scrolling of filenames slowed to a crawl. “The directory’s almost loaded, and then we’ll check the dates for what kinda data is in there.”

  Atteberry peered around the bridge while they all waited for the memory header to load. Carter lingered on the other side in deep discussion with the captain. One of the main viewscreens overhead panned across the lunar horizon, capturing most of the lab ruins as it moved. Ishani and Dub had made their way aft.

  “Well, that ain’t a-gonna help us.”

  Atteberry turned to see Quigg and Jenson staring up at the header information. “What’s wrong?”

  “These are from a few months back. We’re looking for something more recent.”

  Esther chimed in. “You may yet find this useful, though.”

  “I doubt it, Doc. All this info was sent to headquarters a while ago. See here?” He pointed to lines of code in the header. “It’s been analyzed to hell and back.” He looked at Atteberry. “Well, time’s a-wastin’! Let’s get that there other tube hooked up, yeah?”

  “On it,” Jenson said, and she disconnected the first one like a pro. Atteberry handed her the last cylinder that could help them, and she plugged in the suite of cables.

  As with the previous tube, the files scrolled down on Quigg’s viewscreen. The header information stopped in half the time.

  “Well, lookee here, folks.” Quigg pulled the filenames down the screen and slowly read off a few of the codes.

  “What do those mean?” Atteberry asked.

  Jenson and Quigg both grinned, and the co-pilot brushed her hair back and said, “Mr. Atteberry, it means we’ve found the last memory tube Kate Braddock worked on. It’s not necessarily the last location they worked at, but this is the information that could tell us the area where they might have gone, and what we’re up against.”

  Atteberry swallowed hard. “How soon will you know?”

  “Minutes. We just need to find the most recent date of entry, download the geophysical data associated with it, and—”

  A double-chime, signaling an incoming message from Titanius headquarters, cut Jenson off. Carter strode over to the comms panel and Captain Powell took his seat in the chair. Quigg checked his dash and said, “It’s from Ed Mitchell. Do you wanna take it privately, Mr. Carter?”

  “No, put it on the main screen.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  The Titanius logo flashed in front of them, followed by a slight delay. Mitchell faded in, surrounded by several workers in blue company uniforms and large banks of computers. Behind him, panels of viewscreens displayed various images of ships, Luna, and strings of numerical data. Atteberry, along with the others, instinctively moved closer to Carter.

  “Echo . . . New York. Come in.”

  Quigg nodded to the CEO. “Secure channel’s open, sir.”

  He faced the viewscreen. “New York, this is Echo. Good to see you, Ed. What’s the latest?”

  “Uncertain, Clayton. We expected blow back from the international community the moment you left for Luna, and we go it in spades. I assume you’re tracking the convoy of ships en route to your location?”

  “Affirmative.”

  “You’d best prepare for another group, too. Security cruisers have been redeployed to intercept the Echo on your return. The Brazilians, Russians, Indians . . . all the major powers. Plus, we’ve got other resource conglomerates threatening to launch legal action and impose blockades along the mineral runs. Our own NDU government’s knickers are all twisted over the diplomatic conflict, and they’re pressuring us to come clean with our intentions.”

  “That’s not entirely unexpected, Ed.”

  “True, but what worries me is the number of security cruisers heading your way at full burn, on top of what’s already there.”

  Carter frowned and folded his arms across his chest. “How many are we talking about?”

  “Intel shows a dozen cruisers have altered their courses. Half that group is en route to Luna; the others are on an intercept course with Malevolent. She’s standing off with the Nachtfalke.” Ed paused a moment, looked off-screen and nodded, then returned to face the viewscreen again. “How much longer will you be up there?”

  Carter shrugged his shoulders, peered around the bridge at the crew, th
en met Atteberry’s gaze. “As long as it takes to complete the mission. Now, is there anything else?”

  “No, sir. We’ll continue monitoring terran comms and keep you apprised of any changes. New York out.”

  Quigg closed the channel. They all waited for Carter to speak. He stroked his chin, lowered his head, then looked at Atteberry, Esther and Quigg. “Let’s get that data analyzed, folks.” Then, he turned to the captain. “Mr. Powell, as soon as Ishani’s finished securing the salvaged equipment in the stores, make sure this bird is ready to fly on my mark.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  “Jenson, I want you with me at the nav station. We’ll need various routes plotted and standing by to get us the hell out of here.”

  “On it, sir.”

  The crew sprang into action. Atteberry joined Esther and Quigg at the data screen showing all the files on the memory tube. They identified the last few entries Kate made and downloaded their contents into the Echo’s computers. Within seconds, the massive files had transferred successfully.

  Esther had more experience in data analysis and planetary imaging than Quigg, so she took charge of converting the mountain of numbers into maps. The first image she resolved showed near-surface structures in the vicinity of the Mare Marginis. She also produced several others of the area, including radar and high-resolution tomographic scans.

  “What exactly are we looking for, Es?” Atteberry toggled through the images.

  “Anything that seems out of place, artificial, perhaps even a ship.”

  He flipped back to the radar image. “You mean like this?”

  Esther peered up from the panel where she’d been filtering the data and stared at the viewscreen. A shadowy section of the terrain appeared.

  “What do you make of it?”

  She adjusted the filter parameters and the contrast between the target and the surrounding material improved. “See these things, Jim? Those are survey markers on each side of the anomaly. Kate must have felt there was something odd. Here, I’ll improve the resolution.” She refined the adjustments until the shadow stood out clearly.

  Atteberry gaped at the object. Its shape and dimension suggested the thing was, first, artificial, and second, built for speed. He’d wondered what the Rossian vessel looked like, and figured it must have been a large, powerful craft—perhaps the size of one of Titanius’s cruisers. To generate faster than light speeds would require massive amounts of energy, at least that’s what conventional physics taught him. The dimensions of this compact ship confused his sense of logic.

  Esther touched his arm. “This is what Kate found . . . what she didn’t want others to know. It’s the Ross 128 ship, Jim. I’ll bet my life on it.”

  Quigg locked the image in on the bridge’s main screen. “Captain? We found it!”

  Carter jumped from the nav station toward the viewscreen and ran his fingers along the ship’s perimeter on the viewer. “Is it underground?”

  “It is, Clayton,” Esther said. “A meter or two below the surface.”

  “Where is she?”

  “Mare Marginis. Quigg has the precise coordinates.”

  “I’m sending them your way, Jenzie.”

  Carter returned to navigation, followed by Esther and Atteberry.

  Jenson plotted the coordinates into the ship’s drive computer. “The area is about 600 kilometers from here, Mr. Carter. We can be there in less than ten minutes.”

  Carter smiled and slammed a fist into an open palm. “First class work! Captain Powell, you have the course laid in for the Mare Marginis?”

  “Aye, sir.”

  “Stores secured?”

  Powell checked his dashboard. “They are, sir.”

  “Then get us the hell out of here!”

  Carter looked straight at Atteberry and nodded. Then he winked at Esther. She lowered her head, averting her gaze.

  THIRTY-FIVE

  Kate

  The warm liquid tasted sweet and familiar compared to the recycled habitat swill she’d been drinking at the Titanius lab for the past five years, and she recognized exactly what it was: water.

  Kate returned the cup to the floor, and tapped out the H2O code with her knuckles, then waited silently in the thick darkness. Within a minute, the alien tapped the 1—1—8 signal back to her. She smiled. “Thank you.” Kate slid back to the pedestal and leaned against it, keeping the curious creature with the wide golden eyes in her sight at all times. The pain from her injuries intensified again, and Mary’s disappearance screamed in every thought.

  “I’m afraid . . . I have nothing . . . to give you, but can you tell me where . . . where my friend Mary is?”

  She struggled to breathe—the misery and swelling in her ribs constricting her lungs—and closed her eyes. The warmth of the water coursed through her now and, perhaps because she was so thirsty and beaten up, she felt it flow throughout her body, into her torso and arms, down her legs, pooling in the crevices of her nerve endings. It had a soothing quality, and Kate finally relaxed again.

  “I wish you . . . you understood my language. I must find Mary . . . the other one like me. Is she here, or . . . still outside?” She paused, hoping for some movement from the Rossian. None came.

  This creature isn’t in any rush to act . . . and I’m in no shape to force the issue. Perhaps that’s its way. If it’s already been hiding here . . . a while . . . it may not understand my impatience.

  She hummed the tune again, more to comfort herself than anything else, and moved her good hand up to her chest, slipping it under her Kevlar skin.

  You are my sunshine . . .

  Her flesh was clammy as she passed her fingertips over the scar field. She hated herself for doing this, for being so weak, so incredibly ugly, but couldn’t stop. Her thumbnail traced one of the fresher cuts that had crusted over but easily opened under her pressure.

  . . . my only sunshine . . .

  With each successive pass, she dug the nail deeper into her pain, and winced with relief.

  . . . you make me happy . . .

  After several minutes of scraping, Kate pulled her hand out and licked the tips of her fingers. She patted her top down on her chest and closed her eyes, savoring the sensation of her moist, sticky shirt on skin. The inevitable wave of shame broke over her, but no matter: the comfort allowed her to breathe easier, to process the encounter with an alien life form, to assuage the fear over Mary’s whereabouts.

  When she peered around a moment later, the creature had inched nearer and froze when she made eye contact.

  “Hey, it’s all right if you come closer. I can’t move . . . I . . . my wrist, you see?” She pointed to the broken arm, now swollen to the size of her calf. The alien clicked its limbs on the floor and approached another pace, then stopped.

  . . . the other night dear . . .

  . . . as I lay sleeping . .

  It took a step closer. She quit humming and whispered, “I won’t bite . . .” A ferocious cough seized her and she immediately groaned as fresh pain exploded in her chest. The alien scuttled away into the shadows and blinked.

  “Yeah, I’ve lived in fear the same way . . . most of . . . my life, too.” She clenched her teeth, fighting the urge to scream. “God, I need help. Mary!”

  Minutes passed before the Rossian clicked back toward her, inching even closer, and froze. Kate again saw its general form. Its height reminded her of a child about seven or eight years old, and she smiled and snorted at her own preconceptions regarding extra-terrestrial life. This child-sized creature was no bug-eyed behemoth: just the opposite. Its small stature and thin limbs gave it an air of fragility.

  “I’m going to . . . shift my position here, little one. No need to freak out . . . okay?”

  The alien stood perfectly still.

  “So . . . here I go.” Kate pulled herself over on her side and wriggled into a new spot against the pedestal. As she did so, she kept an eye on the creature, anticipating it would dance back into the deeper shadows. In
stead, it remained fixed in place in front of her.

  “Good . . . that’s better. So maybe we’re not as frightened of each other.” She reached out a hand, palm up, as if to say I have no weapon; this is all I am. “Can you . . . tell me where Mary is? Hm? I’ve got to know.” It moved again, scratching up to within a meter.

  Despite the gloomy surroundings, the alien’s shape grew more defined as the distance between them diminished. She heard it breathing—much slower and longer than a human—and noticed a faint, musty odor coming off it. Nothing offensive; rather, an animal scent, like a wet dog. Its head had a face of sorts, though unrecognizable as that of a person, and was elongated front to back. The darkness prevented her from discerning the details of the torso, but its limbs reminded her of crustacean legs: jointed, hard, and tapering to knobby points at the end. In fact, this creature appeared more crablike than anything else, except possessing a vertical stance instead of a squat one.

  The thing scrabbled closer again and this time, the golden eyes looked up, its gaze darting across her face, her chest, over to her injured arm, and back to her chest again.

  “Pretty ugly, eh?” She kept her palm out, and whispered even softer now, as if sharing a secret. “Tell you what . . . little one . . . if you can find me my suit, or . . . or bring me a magic painkiller, I’ll be . . . your friend for life.” She winced again and groaned. “I wish you . . . understood me.”

  The alien’s breathing rate suddenly increased, and she thought it opened a mouth. A deep, guttural purr-like sound emerged from its body, slow and steady, similar to the noise animals made after eating.

  Kate gulped and wondered what she’d gotten herself into now, but realized the only way to find Mary and get off this ship was to befriend this creature. She smiled shyly, pointed at her chest, and said, “I am Kate . . . Kate.” Then she waved a finger at the alien and raised her hand, palm up, as if asking a question.

  The raspy moan came again, lasting several seconds, as the golden eyes blinked in rapid succession.

  “Kate . . .” she said, pointing to herself again.