The Dark Ship

by Phillip P. Peterson

  “Behind this door are your living quarters,” the voice of computer suddenly returned.

  Jeff entered the room behind Irons and chuckled in surprise. He’d reckoned with just about anything, but not this.

  Green came in right after Jeff. “Holy shit, what is this?”

  “Looks like a designer hotel.” Joanne shook her head.

  She was right. The room looked a lot like a luxury hotel suite. Jeff was reminded of his room in the five-star hotel he’d treated himself to in New York a few years back on a tour of the Solar System. In the middle of the spacious room were two large couches, arranged at right angles around a big glass table. In one corner was a large, round, wooden table—at least it looked like wood—around which were ten ornately curved wooden chairs. Behind the table was a kitchenette. Through one of the wall cupboard’s glass doors, Jeff could see plates, cups, and glasses. He was sure he would find cutlery in one of the drawers next to the stove.

  Green strode over to the kitchenette and tore open the door of the thing that looked like a refrigerator.

  “Now take a look at that!” he said.

  He was right. It was a fridge, and it was packed with drinks, fruit, vegetables, and more. Green took out a bottle of Neptune beer—they actually had Neptune beer!—and unscrewed the top. He looked at the bottle skeptically for a moment, then took a long swig. “Delicious!” He said. “It tastes like the real thing. I wonder where they got it?”

  “Probably synthesized,” Irons said. The Major, as always, seemed unimpressed. He walked past the couch area to a door at the far end of the room. Next to the door was another dark square. Irons pressed it and the door opened. It led into another corridor.

  “There you will find your sleeping quarters,” the voice of the computer said. “If you wish to communicate with me, it is only possible here in the lounge area.”

  Jeff followed Irons into the corridor. The major opened one of the doors and Jeff peeked into a bedroom. There was a queen-sized bed covered with a white bedspread, and next to it a narrow, black wardrobe and a small sitting area with a chair and a table. A doorway led into a beige-tiled bathroom with a toilet, shower, and sink. The ship’s computer seemed to have thought of everything.

  “Ten doors,” Irons said after he and Jeff stepped back into the corridor. “It looks like the area was created specially for us.”

  Jeff shrugged. “He did say something was being prepared for us.” But how the computer had been able to recreate it so realistically was anyone’s guess.

  “Well, we certainly can’t complain about a lack of hospitality,” Joanne said, peering into one of the rooms.

  Irons walked past her back into the lounge. Jeff followed him. Green had already made himself comfortable on one of the two couches. He looked completely out of place in his combat suit. Owl was standing at the kitchen counter and washing his face at the small sink. Shorty and Mac had parked the equipment sled near the front door and were gawping at the luxurious room.

  Irons went up to the sofa on which Green was lolling, and rested both his arms on the backrest. “Computer,” he spoke loudly.

  “What can I do for you?” the emotionless voice sounded through the room.

  “First of all, many thanks for these comfortable quarters. This is more than we could have hoped for.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “And regarding our desired destination …”

  “Just give me the coordinates and I’ll set a course.”

  Irons hesitated. “Don’t you want to negotiate payment or other terms?”

  “I have been traveling for millions of your years and the corresponding number of light years. A small detour makes no difference to me.”

  Irons knitted his brows, as if something bothered him about the computer’s choice of words. “What do you mean by detour? Where are you even headed? Why didn’t you stay with your crew?”

  “The crew had no more use for the spaceship after arriving at their target world. I was given the assignment of flying on and exploring the universe.”

  “And eventually returning to your creators?”

  “No. I transmit the results to the home world by point-to-point radio.”

  “Where is this home world?”

  “In another galaxy, over a hundred million light years from your Milky Way.”

  “Could you tell us the coordinates? Someday it would be interesting to investigate what happened to your people. Provided of course we are able to develop a hyperdrive that can take us there.”

  “I’m sorry, I cannot tell you the coordinates.”

  “Why not?” Joanne asked.

  She got no answer. “Probably for security reasons,” said Irons. “We would have reacted the same.” He addressed the computer again. “You’ve probably already told your builders the coordinates of the human galaxy.”

  “Of course, that is my task.”

  Irons made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “One hundred million light years. If they only find out about us in a hundred million years, then it’s no skin off our backs. In any case, they probably died out long ago.” He cleared his throat. “Computer, when was the last time you had contact with your builders?”

  “Before my departure from the target world.”

  Jeff was all ears.

  Irons raised an eyebrow. “You’ve never heard from them since?”

  “No, that was never the intention.”

  “Aha. How is it that you can speak our language?”

  “I have collected and analyzed your radio transmissions for many years.”

  “You’re studying us?”

  “In fact, I changed my course in order to fly through your area.”

  “Why didn’t you make contact with us?”

  “Making contact is not within my mission parameters. I have been instructed to watch, analyze, and send back the results. Then I will fly on to other destinations of interest.”

  “ … not within the parameters,” Irons repeated. “And yet you have taken us in.”

  “This decision was made on the basis of moral directives.”

  “Moral directives?” Castle grimaced. Jeff chuckled. The weapon systems officer would never have dreamed of creating a machine with moral capabilities.

  “Maybe the alien equivalent to the Asimov’s laws,” Jeff pondered aloud. “If you find castaways in the interstellar void, you pick them up and take them to the nearest safe haven. Our merchant marines have similar guidelines.”

  “Well, I for one am not complaining,” Irons said. “Computer. If we give you the coordinates, will you bring us to this system?”

  “Yes.”

  Irons looked at Joanne. She registered his glance and nodded. She took her handheld out of the front pocket of her combat suit and tapped around on the touch screen. “Computer, our target system is relatively close to X+31, Y-4 and Z+47. The unit of measurement is light years.”

  “I have understood. I require a definition of your coordinate system.”

  Joanne raised her eyebrows. “Oh, God,” she muttered. She swiped around on her DA and swore loudly.

  “What’s the problem?” Irons asked.

  “Of course—this spaceship doesn’t know our coordinate system. I need a fixed point that we can use in the coordinate transformation.”

  “You gave the location of Sigma-7 relative to our current location. I don’t understand the problem,” Irons persisted.

  “Yes, the origin of the coordinates is clear, but the ship doesn’t know the direction of our axes.”

  Irons nodded.

  “I have an idea,” Joanne said finally. “Computer. Draw a line from here to the center of the Milky Way, that’s our axis of rotation for the coordinate transformation. The rotation is then …” She read some numbers from her DA.

  Several seconds passed before the computer voice spoke. “At the point you specify, my analysis system shows a binary star system with a K-star and a G-class companion.”

  Joann
e nodded. “Yes, that’s correct. The G-class star has nine planets, and the Sigma-7 station is circling the fourth one.”

  “I have set a course. The flight time there will be 212 days according to your time. Everything you need will be provided.”

  Irons nodded and smiled. “Thank you very much. I still have a couple of questions about your creators. Above all, I’d like to know—”

  “I apologize for interrupting you here. I have to break off contact now.”

  “Break off contact? Why?” Irons was surprised.

  Jeff shook his head in confusion. The thing was a computer—and not just any old computer, an onboard computer. On their own ships and stations, they were permanently available to the crew.

  “My program requires self-testing of complex onboard systems at regular intervals, which must be reset. Some of these tests require my full attention.”

  “Well, I guess that makes sense. It is a big ship,” Owl remarked.

  But Jeff still found it strange. Precisely because it was such a big ship there must be tons of systems that needed to be constantly monitored, checked, and controlled by the computer. Even if it did have to carry out these self-tests or whatever they were, there should still be enough capacity for communication between the computer and the crew. On the other hand, perhaps the computer technology of the extraterrestrial builders had been very different. It was an old ship. Maybe some of the original computer capacity was no longer available and the system had to be economical.

  Irons shrugged. “OK. But I still have one question. Can we leave our quarters?”

  Jeff pricked up his ears. That was a good question. If they couldn’t leave their quarters, they would basically be prisoners on this ship.

  “Of course. You can move around freely. However, I would recommend that you do not go too far from your quarters as you might get lost.”

  Jeff nodded in relief. OK—that made sense.

  “I am now going to turn off my communication module,” the computer said. “You can contact me again in a few hours.”

  As if to underscore these words, a faint crackling sound emanated from the invisible speakers.

  “Computer?” Irons asked. No answer.

  Nobody spoke for a few seconds. Then Joanne broke the silence. “Now what?”

  Irons sighed. “I need some time to digest all this. At least we’re safe here. Considering the alternatives, we were pretty lucky. I suggest we all have a rest. It’s been a long, exhausting day. It looks like everyone gets their own space. You can check out your rooms, freshen up, take a nap.” He glanced at the clock on the arm of his combat suit. “As there are no day and night rhythms here, I suggest we keep using universal time. It’s now shortly after three in the afternoon. We’ll meet here for dinner at seven and then we’ll discuss our next move.”

  “Can we help ourselves to drinks from the fridge?” Shorty asked.

  Irons nodded. “Sure, but don’t overdo the beer. And another thing: I don’t want anyone to leave the quarters without my express permission.”

  “Why not?” Green asked. “The computer said we could move around freely.” Jeff could tell he was dying to explore the vast ship.

  “We will explore our surroundings, but nobody will do so on their own, and I’d like to work out a plan first,” Irons said. “The last thing we need is for someone to get lost in the labyrinth of this ship.”

  “But then surely the computer would direct us back to our quarters.”

  “You will stay here,” Irons barked. “Have you understood, Lieutenant?”

  Green shrugged. “Yes. Whatever.”

  Irons opened his mouth to make a retort, but then turned on his heel and disappeared through the door into the short corridor with the bedrooms. Jeff saw the major take the first room.

  “I reckon the old dog is overreacting. It can’t harm to take a look around,” Green grumbled.

  Joanne rolled her eyes.

  Jeff tried to look stern. It was now his job to reprimand Green. “You will follow the Major’s orders! And don’t call the commander ‘old dog’ in front of other crew members. Major Irons, got that?” Jeff wished he could make his own voice sound as authoritarian as Irons’, but he knew he would never succeed.

  Green looked at him dismissively. His lips curled as if her were about to burst out laughing. But then he waved his hand dismissively and went back to the fridge.

  Jeff took a step forward and almost stumbled over the emergency equipment, which had been dragged into the middle of the room. “Corporal Fields, would you please clear away the sled?”

  “Where should I put it, Sir?” As always, Jeff ignored the sarcastic undertone in Fields’ voice when he addressed him as “Sir.”

  Jeff looked around the room. “There’s a niche behind the kitchen. Looks like a good spot.”

  Fields shrugged. “As you wish, Sir.”

  The mechanic showed no sign that he was about to carry out his task. On the contrary; he turned around and walked over to the fridge as if nothing had happened.

  “Corporal Fields,” Green spoke in a crisp, clear voice that made even Jeff flinch.

  Fields turned around on his heal. “Sir?” This time his “Sir” sounded more alert.

  “Take the equipment straight to the niche!”

  “Yes, Sir!”

  Fields pursed his lips and returned to the sled.

  “When you’ve finished with that, I want you to make an inventory of all the equipment and supplies we have left. Every single item. And I want to be able to hand over the list to Major Irons at dinner. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, Sir,” Fields replied and activated the sled’s inertia-negation system. He waved Shorty over and together they steered the bulky object over to the niche behind the kitchen unit.

  Green grinned with blatant disdain at Jeff’s lack of authority. Jeff got up hastily and retreated to his room. He could have cried. When Irons wasn’t around, he had absolutely no power over the crew. He never would. He was an academic, pure and simple. A bookworm. He had zero interest in ordering other people around. Who had even had the bright idea of making him the XO of a bomber? And now they had to wait seven long months until they reached Sigma-7.

  Jeff locked the door to his room, sat down on the edge of the bed, and closed his eyes.

  Please let this nightmare end.

  3.

  “Where did that come from?” Jeff asked, pointing at the steaming pot in the middle of the table.

  “It was on a trolley outside the door,” Joanne said, gesturing to the main entrance of their quarters. A metal trolley—that could have come from a canteen kitchen—was standing next to the door. “I’d just come back in here and sat down on the sofa when there was a knock at the door. I got the shock of my life. When I opened it, I thought there’d be an intelligent lizard or some other alien standing there. Instead there was this stew.”

  Jeff came up to the table and leaned over the pot. He could see beans, peas, bits of carrot and potato, and something that looked like sausage. It smelled delicious and his mouth started to water. He suddenly realized he hadn’t had anything to eat since leaving Sigma-7. And then an inner voice told him to be careful. “Where could these ingredients have come from?” he wondered aloud.

  “I’m sure they’re synthesized,” Joanne said, taking a stack of plates out of the cupboard above the kitchen counter and placing them on the table.

  “But the computer must have gotten the recipe from somewhere.”

  Joanne laughed. “The ether is full of all kinds of cooking programs. The computer has probably been analyzing our transmissions for a long time. I guess that’s how it learned our language, too.”

  Jeff scratched his head. He’d been thinking about it over the past few hours. The ship’s computer had admitted that it scoured the universe for information. It was probably creating a comprehensive encyclopedia about humanity, which it would then send to its builders. It was a shame the computer wouldn’t reveal the coordinate
s of its home planet. It would be incredibly exciting to discover more about the fate of its builders. Millions of years! What might have become of them? Had they died out long ago? Or had they reached a new rung on the evolutionary ladder? Had they collectively merged into a kind of technological super-intelligence, as the brilliant futurologist Bennett had once predicted for humankind? They could have learned so much from them. On the other hand, the home planet of this ship was in a faraway galaxy—unreachable. It would probably take many more generations before their hyperdrive technology was advanced enough to reach other galaxies. He’d have to make do with what they could find out on board this ship.

  “What are you dreaming about?” Joanne asked.

  Jeff started out of his reverie. “What?”

  Joanne sighed. “You’re too easily distracted.”

  Jeff felt like he’d been caught red-handed. “I wasn’t—”

  Joanne laughed. “Yes you were! And not for the first time.” She sat down next to him. “Have you ever asked yourself why nobody here takes you seriously?”

  Jeff swallowed. Joanne had never spoken to him this directly. What should he say?

  “You always seem like you’re not quite there,” she said. “Sometimes I get the impression you’re not really listening when others talk to you. Everything about you screams ‘academic with his head in the clouds.’ And when you say something, you always sound doubtful. You’re the XO and should be able to stand in for the major. That will never work if your commands sound more like requests. You know what? You would have been better off staying at your university.”

  He’d come to that conclusion himself, but it still felt like a punch in the stomach coming from Joanne. Jeff didn’t reply.

  Joanne gave him a consoling smile. “Will you tell the others that dinner’s ready? I’ll finish setting the table.”

  Jeff nodded. It was almost seven o’clock. He turned around and opened the door to the corridor with the bedrooms. He clapped his hands loudly. “There’s food—come and get it!”