Black Sheep

by Rachel Aukes

  The interior door opened.

  Throttle stood in front but didn’t step into the hallway. She waited, half expecting someone to come at her, but she was greeted only by a dimly lit gray wall. It looked to be of the same material as the hull. A small placard on the wall read Fortes fortuna adiuvat.

  “Whatever that means,” Garrett muttered.

  While the letters seemed to fit the universal language, the words weren’t familiar. Throttle ignored the sign and took a step forward. Another step. She stepped out of the airlock on her third step, and the lights brightened. She raised her rifle as she peered down the hallway that led to her left and to her right.

  “I’m reading all life support functional,” Finn said.

  “Same here,” Garrett said.

  Throttle glanced at her sensors to confirm. Shouldering her rifle with one arm, she opened her helmet.

  “Wait, what if it’s not safe?” Garrett said, but she’d already broken the seal.

  She inhaled deeply. The air was warm and surprisingly humid and, most importantly, fresh. The lack of the pungent sweetness of decay relaxed the tension in her shoulders. “The air’s good,” she said.

  Garrett took his helmet off first.

  Finn watched Throttle take a few more breaths before he removed his and took a full breath. He looked left and right. “Okay, which hallway do you want me to take?”

  Throttle shook her head. “I do things differently than what you learned as a drom. On my crew, we always stick together on the first pass through. Basically, if we see something in a horror movie, we do the opposite. Once we finish the first pass, we can split up.”

  “Which direction, then?” Finn asked.

  She nodded to the right. “The bridge is that way. That’s where we should learn the most about what happened to the ship and crew.” She began heading down the hallway. Some wall panels were missing, as though the ship had been launched before being completed.

  Finn caught up. “At least allow me to take point.”

  She eyed him and noticed the sincerity in his expression. She relented. “After you.”

  They walked a couple of dozen paces before reaching a door. They stopped and stared at it.

  “Should we open it?” Garrett asked.

  “How?” Finn asked. “There’s no panel.”

  Throttle thought for a moment. “Let’s leave it. We should know a lot more about what happened on this ship once we access the bridge systems.”

  They continued and reached another closed door on their left. She looked down the long corridor that slightly tapered inward and saw three more doors, all evenly spaced. “My guess is these are the crew quarters,” she said and motioned at Finn to keep walking.

  “Even though it has life support, it seems more like a drone,” Finn said. “I mean, look at the floor. Look at the walls. There’s not even a scratch from a rolling cart anywhere.”

  “Maybe it was sent on a test run without a crew,” Garrett said.

  A heavier looking door stood at the apex of the corridor just before it curved around the other side of the ship.

  “I’d lay bets on that being the bridge,” Throttle said and walked up to the panel next to the door, or at least it was where the control panel should have been located. Instead, all that remained was an open hole in the wall.

  “It looks like they never got around to installing the panel,” Garrett said.

  Throttle glanced over her shoulder. “That means we’ll have to cut through the door.”

  Garrett went down on a knee, unslung his backpack, and pulled out a laser cutter.

  The bridge door opened.

  Throttle’s jaw slackened.

  Garrett stood.

  “That’s…odd,” Finn said.

  “Maybe it’s an automatic door, and the sensors are just really delayed,” Garrett offered.

  “Maybe,” Throttle said, doubtful. She took a cautious step through the doorway and onto the bridge. The lights brightened. Nothing else had changed from when she’d seen it from the outside.

  She sensed Finn and Garrett come up on either side of her.

  The door closed behind them. Garrett sprang around to open it. Finn raised his gun. Throttle stared at all the workstation screens coming online.

  “Welcome aboard, travelers.”

  Chapter Four

  Throttle, Garrett, and Finn shot quick glances around the bridge and to one another.

  “Who’s speaking?” Throttle asked.

  The smooth voice with a lilt of brogue came through the bridge speakers. “I’m the central command system of galactic exploration vessel SR9104-73, Captain Halit Reyne.”

  Garrett blew out a breath. “For a second there, I thought someone else was on board with us. The bridge must have motion sensors that launched the main computer.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “How do you know my name?”

  “Standard exploratory protocol. I accessed your onboard systems when you came within my proximity so I could ascertain danger to me as well as to analyze any life encountered for risks and benefits to colonization efforts.”

  Her frown deepened. She didn’t like that her ship’s systems could be so easily accessed. If this ship had a crew with less than honorable motives… “What happened to your crew?” she asked.

  “That data is missing from my memory. I believe I was designed to operate with or without a crew.”

  “It’s a drone,” Finn said. “Just an advanced drone.”

  “Where were you manufactured?” Throttle asked.

  “That data is missing.”

  “Where did you originate?” she asked.

  “That data is missing.”

  “What happened that caused you to end up floating here in the middle of nowhere?” she asked.

  “That data is missing.”

  She blew out a breath. “C’mon, Rusty. A little help here.”

  “Why did you call me Rusty?”

  “Because it’s easier than calling you an old rusted bucket of shit, which is what you’re being. Now, give me something.”

  “I believe I suffered a catastrophic failure. My mnemonic system was destroyed along with other systems crucial to my mission.”

  “And exactly what is your mission?”

  “Nearly all my memory data is missing or corrupted. Based on my current location and the little remaining uncorrupted data that I can access, I believe that my mission is to identify feasible quadrants for travel routes and colonization.”

  “A survey drone,” Finn said.

  “And from which star system would these travel routes originate?” she asked.

  “I don’t know, but I do know the Sol system is currently the primary source of interstellar colonization activities across systems in this area.”

  “Sol? That would explain why this ship looks nothing like ones we’ve seen before,” Garrett said.

  Finn shook his head. “But Sol is Earth’s system. Their star went red hundreds of years ago. All life was wiped out. Nothing should be coming out of that system.”

  “You’re wrong, Ensign Finnegan Martin. The Sol star is a mature dwarf star with an estimated five point four billion years remaining before it expands into a red giant.”

  Finn eyed Throttle and spoke softly. “‘Martin’ isn’t the name on the credentials I used to board the Gabriela.”

  “Is ‘Martin’ incorrect?” Rusty asked.

  Finn frowned. “No, it’s right. I just want to know how you got it.”

  “Your credentials in the ship’s log contradicts the data in the communication device you wear on your forearm. I determined that the information you wore had the higher likelihood of accuracy.”

  Throttle turned to the ship, staring at a speaker since she didn’t know where else to look. “You sound like you’re functioning just fine. What’s keeping you from flying out of here?”

  “I have many minor systems missing or incomplete, but I have two crucial systems damaged beyond my ability to rep
air, which prohibit me from functioning properly.”

  “What systems are those?” she asked.

  “I am missing my communication matrix and my navigational quadriscope. All other systems have been rebuilt and are functioning at minimum operational parameters. I’ve reconstructed my linguistics routines from radio waves my sensors pick up. However, with most of my data and protocols missing, my systems are not operating at optimal performance.”

  “Do you know what caused your cat fail?” Finn asked.

  “I don’t know, Finn. If I were to guess, an event occurred where a denser object collided with my hull, which knocked me offline and destroyed much of my structure.”

  “Then why doesn’t your hull show signs of any damage?” Throttle asked.

  “After coming back online, I required extensive repairs, which consumed two hundred and eighty-three years. Only one of my reno-bots survived the event, and it was severely damaged. My bot spent seven decades replicating itself so that I could begin the recovery of material and rebuild myself. Substantial reduction and reconfiguration were necessary due to significant loss of material after the event. All my systems are now operating at minimum acceptable parameters with the exception of the communication and navigation systems.”

  “If only the Gabriela had some of this tech,” Garrett said quietly.

  “Are your jump drives operational?” Throttle asked.

  “Yes, Captain Reyne,” Rusty replied.

  “How much juice do you have?” she continued.

  “My jump engine leverages solar energy and does not require helium fuel, unlike your ship. There’s no limit to the number of jumps made, however, between jumps, my solar array must recharge.”

  Throttle looked to Garrett and Finn to see hope in their expressions. She turned back to the ship. “Rusty, I thought I saw a cargo hold in the belly. Is it big enough to hold the Scorpia?”

  “Yes, though the gunship will take up the entire space available. The hold can be pressurized as well if you’d find that convenient.”

  “I would. Prepare to accept the Scorpia,” she said, and turned back to her crew. “I want you both to head back to the Scorpia and have her dock in the cargo hold. We’ll have Eddy and Sylvian take a look to see if we can’t get Rusty’s systems up and running.”

  “You’re staying?”

  She nodded. “I want to get my hands on Rusty’s systems and see what we’ve got to work with.”

  The bridge door opened, and the pair departed. After they left, the door closed, giving her a sudden feeling of being cut off from her crew.

  “Rusty, leave the bridge door open,” Throttle ordered.

  The door opened.

  She walked to the captain’s chair, ran her hand over the smooth surface, and took a seat. It was hard, with no cushion, but seemed to hold her comfortably even though she had no sensation below the hips. She brushed a hand over the panel. The screen didn’t change.

  “Captain Reyne, you’re not authorized to access my systems,” Rusty said.

  “It’s Throttle. Reyne was my dad’s name. How do I get authorization?”

  “I don’t know that protocol. That data is corrupted, Throttle.”

  She sighed. “Rusty, you’ve been floating out here for three hundred years. If you ever had a crew, they’re long gone. It’s safe to say you’ve been written off whatever corporate book you were on. That makes this ship abandoned property. Under Collective law, I’m taking ownership, and I need full access to all systems so we can see about getting you flying again. Welcome to my fleet. Enter my credentials into your system as owner and captain.”

  A brief pause. “You now have comprehensive access to my systems, Throttle.”

  Throttle ran her hand over the panel again. This time, a menu of options appeared, and she began running scans on the ship’s capabilities and accoutrements. She read as the lists of data populated. “Six nav engines. Nice. One jump engine. Good. No solar sails. Why no sails, Rusty?”

  “I utilize navigational engines when traveling at sub-speed.”

  “And let me guess, the nav engines run off rechargeable batteries, too,” Throttle mused.

  “The term ‘battery’ is not accurate. My hull absorbs solar energy and directs it to the engines and other systems.”

  “Ah, so the hull is just a big solar array. I’ve seen a few ships like that before. That would explain why I didn’t see any solar panels hanging off the hull.” She continued through the lists, fingers brushing over many items. She paused after a moment. “No guns?”

  “I’m an exploratory vessel. I imagine weapons aren’t necessary for my mission. Also, I didn’t find any remnants of weaponry in the debris field.”

  She chuckled. “You’ve obviously never been through the Trappist system if you think guns aren’t necessary.” She kept reading through the inventory. “I’m showing a galley and five cabins. How many bunks in each cabin?”

  “Each cabin is bare. I suspect that any beds and other soft material were lost in the event.”

  “You’ve got space for the crew. That’s what counts.” Her eyebrows furrowed. “Wait a second. If the event breached your hull, how is it that you have atmosphere?”

  “Once structural integrity was restored and environmental systems were rebuilt, I dispensed my reno-bots to nearby asteroids to gather necessary elements to recreate an atmosphere.”

  “But you can fly without a crew.”

  “Environmental stability seemed important since cabins and a bridge were part of my original design.”

  She leaned back in her seat. “Wait a second. You said your nav system is down. How were you able to send your bots out?”

  “I extrapolated their trajectory based on a scan I’ve made of this entire quadrant.”

  “Quadrant?” It was a term she’d never used in space flight before. “How many sectors are in a quadrant?”

  “Twelve point two seven sectors are in a quadrant.”

  “Why didn’t you fly as far as your scans allowed, then scan the next quadrant, and so on?”

  “I’m missing flight protocols.”

  “Sylvian’s got some work laid out for her. Got it,” she said under her breath and continued her scans.

  By the time the Scorpia docked, Throttle had a decent handle on the ship’s capabilities. The technology was far more advanced, which didn’t surprise her. Collective technology had not advanced much in the nine hundred years after it colonized the Trappist system. Earth, on the other hand, had evidently kept advancing.

  She liked the ship. The systems were simpler and Rusty was available to answer her questions—a few of them, anyway. Nearly every ship had a voice-enabled system, but Rusty—like the rest of the ship—was a significant upgrade from what she was used to. She was looking forward to testing its flying envelope.

  After relaying her instructions to the crew, she leaned back and stretched.

  Birk strolled onto the bridge. He still favored his shoulder, which caught Throttle’s attention.

  “Why aren’t you using painkillers?” she asked.

  “They dull everything. I’ll take them later.” He looked around, awestruck. “I can’t believe we found a ship with its environmentals still working. The odds of that have to be lower than finding a chunk of tanzanite on, well, any asteroid anywhere.”

  He hustled over to a seat near Throttle and took it. He ran his hand over the panel in front of him and nothing happened.

  “Rusty, give everyone on board full access to your systems,” Throttle ordered.

  A moment later, the computer responded, “Authorization has been given to an additional seven crew members. Do you trust them, Throttle?”

  “I do,” she replied.

  Birk frowned. “Hm.”

  “What’s wrong?” Throttle asked.

  “I would’ve guessed this ship’s computer to have a female voice,” Birk said.

  “I believe this voice was my natural voice; however, I can adjust my resonance to some
thing more palatable,” Rusty offered.

  Throttle rolled her eyes. “No. We’re keeping your voice as is.” She winked at Birk. “I like it.”

  “Fine.” Birk held up his hands in surrender before he looked around the bridge. “I sure hope we can get it flying again. It’ll be nice to get back to the Gabriela and…the sleepers won’t all fit in here, will they?” His smile faded.

  “We’ll find a way to fit them all,” Throttle said. “This ship doesn’t run on juice, but we don’t know how long we need to wait to recharge the jump engine.”

  “Hey, Captain,” came Eddy’s voice through Throttle’s wrist-comm.

  She tapped it to accept the call. “What have you found?”

  “It’s an easy fix. I just need to swap out a couple of parts from the Scorpia and fiddle with the wiring to get this bucket up and running. The parts will be underpowered for a bigger ship but should still work. But I have to strip components from the Scorpia. She won’t have navigation or communications capabilities until we find replacement parts.”

  “Can you swap them back in if it doesn’t work?” she asked.

  “Of course.”

  “Okay. Try it and keep me updated.” She lowered her hand and turned to Birk. “I guess that makes our decision easy. If Eddy’s swap-out works, we’ll head back to the Gabriela to print the right parts for this ship while we figure out how to stack the pods.”

  Birk looked deep in thought for a moment; then he abruptly stood. “I’ll be back.”

  She watched him leave before returning her gaze to the panel before her. She ran her fingers over several screens before pausing. “Rusty, you’re from Sol, right?”

  “That seems to be the most logical origination point.”

  “Tell me what you know about Earth’s colonization missions.”

  “Of what data I could recover, Earth’s first colonization attempt to its moon launched and failed in Earth year 2078. The following year, its second attempt—”

  “I mean interstellar missions,” Throttle cut in.

  “After colonizing the Sol system, Earth’s first interstellar colony ships departed Earth in year 2356 and arrived in the TRAPPIST-1 system eighty-four years later. Additional ships arrived one hundred years later, but they were destroyed by the system’s first colonists, and the TRAPPIST-1 system was marked as a nonviable colonization system.”