“We need to examine the bodies,” Logan said.
“Do you know what they died of?”
“No.” Logan felt heat rise up his neck to his cheeks. “That’s why I want the medical officer to take a look at them. Now if you’ll excuse me.” Logan sidestepped Blake, but the CHENG was having none of it. He moved his six-foot-plus bulk in front of Logan and folded his arms.
“Where are you going?”
Logan fisted his hands but kept them at his side. “I’m going to the goddamn bathroom. Now get the hell out of my way!”
Blake wasn’t intimidated by Logan’s outburst. He never was. Instead, he leaned forward and squinted at Logan like he was an insect who’d landed on a piece of food. “You smell like you’ve been drinking.”
Logan marched around Blake and rushed off down the hall until he reached the lavatory. He locked the door and looked down at his hands. They were shaking. Damn that stupid Blake! Why couldn’t the bastard mind his own business? It wasn’t like Logan was hurting anyone. Didn’t anyone realize what a huge responsibility it was being in charge of this cargo ship? So what if he drank a little to take the edge off? He wasn’t hurting anyone.
All he wanted was for everyone to buzz off and just leave him alone to do his job. But that seemed to be impossible on this ship. There was usually someone poking their nose into his business, second guessing his decisions, or trying to tell him what to do. It had been the same all those years ago in the US Fleet.
He’d been a young officer then and remembered the collision clearly. The USS Archer had just come back from a three-year deployment. Three years of doing nothing but servicing the other merchant ships and floating around the galaxy rehearsing emergency ops. Back then Logan had been so hungry, chomping at the bit to log in enough bridge time so he could be promoted to Chief. His Captain at the time, Kenneth Boil, had been encouraging but was always wary of Logan’s ambition. But that day the captain had been feeling generous and let Logan take the helm as they approached the space dock. Logan ignored the close proximity readings, thinking he could make it past the control arms that brought the ship into the berth. But he didn’t make it. Instead he took out one of the control arms and was busted down to second officer.
That had been it for Logan. He was booted out the next day.
But even today the demotion stung. Damn that Boil. The demotion was all his fault. If he had been there instead of talking to one of the crew, none of that would have happened. Five people on board had been killed in the resulting breach and fire. And there would have been more had it not been for the quick emergency response.
The Command had stripped him of his commission and drummed him out of the Fleet. What a humiliation. For years he floundered around working as a crew hand on smaller transport vessels, loading and unloading freight, until finally one day he got the chance to become Captain of this cargo ship. The job was a no-brainer. He jumped at the opportunity, but outwardly he did his best to appear cool and aloof.
And he’d been a good Merchant Marine Captain, too!
Not like some of those other captains who always got their loads in late or had cargo missing when they finally reached port. No, Logan’s ship was on time with inventories that matched the departure roster exactly. Who was Blake to second-guess him? The guy was nothing but an old gear head that couldn’t stand the thought of retiring. So what did he do instead? Bug the crap out of Logan.
Fuming, Logan unlocked the cabinet under the sink and fished out a fresh bottle of gin. His hands were shaking so badly now he could barely hold onto the bottle. Just a few small drinks, and he’d be fine. He needed this. After all, he couldn’t go back to the bridge with his hands shaking. One shot turned into two, which turned into three. It was working, lacing its magic into his blood and calming him. After a few more drinks, Blake didn’t matter anymore. After a few more, the alien body didn’t matter much anymore either.
Chapter Eleven
Dirk examined the cryo-sleep chambers that housed the alien skeletons. The trick was getting the two that housed the remains open so they could pack them up and take them back to the Mastodon. Then, before they left the ghost ship, he and the others had to find a way of activating the tractor beam so they could tow the alien ship.
But first things first. Right now he, Sonya, Floyd, and James had to get the damn chambers open. Dirk considered himself familiar with all types of shipboard technology, but this was different. All the controls on the ghost ship were composed entirely of symbols none of them could read.
Sonya crouched under one of the chambers trying to figure out if there was a color code like green button to open and red one to close, but so far nothing appeared that clear-cut. “It’s no use. I can’t figure this out.”
“What about that button?” James said, pointing at a symbol on the far right.
“I don’t think that’s it.” Sonya pushed his hand away.
“Well, we have to try something,” Dirk said, frowning. “We’re going to have to return to the ship in about forty-five minutes.”
Sonya glanced back at him. “Which button do you think it is?”
Dirk stared at the illuminated row of five buttons all in weird symbols. “I say try the button on the far left.”
Sonya placed her finger over the far left button. “Here goes nothing.” She pushed it, and the lights dimmed.
“I don’t think that was it,” Floyd said.
Everyone turned and stared at him.
“I think I like it better when you don’t talk, Floyd,” James said. Then he turned his attention to Sonya. “Since we’re just guessing here, why not just go down the line until the friggin’ things open?”
Sonya looked up at Dirk, who just shrugged. It sounded like a reasonable-enough plan. “Just take it slow in case . . .” He let the rest of his sentence trail off.
The next button Sonya tried was the one they were looking for, and it set off some dramatic results. A loud hiss came from the chambers as the air escaped into the space. It occurred to Sonya that the ship must not be aware that the aliens were dead or else why go through such a meticulous revival process. A few other data screens inside the space chirped to life, alien symbols moving swiftly across the screen.
The chamber closest to them popped open, followed quickly by the other one. All the data screens in the room flashed something a few times, then began spitting data out at the same frantic rate. Dirk was starting to get spooked. A small chirp began in the background. Nothing really loud but annoying nonetheless. It started sounding off at muted but regular intervals.
“What the hell is that?” James said, staring at the overhead screens as if they could give him an answer he could understand.
“I don’t know, but we need to pack up these bodies and get back to the Mastodon,” Sonya said, unfolding one of the space bags from her supply pack. She struggled to get one of the skeletons into the bag then paused to stare at the others who were still puzzling over all the new activity. “Hey!” she shouted. “Can I get a little help here?”
Dirk and the others rushed over and began packing up the alien skeletons, taking care to keep them as intact as possible.
Chapter Twelve
The bridge wasn’t far from the medical facility. It spanned a two-thousand-square-foot space filled to capacity with equipment. After a few false tries, Sonya managed to power up the ghost ship and set the speed to a slow steady pace. Surprisingly, it wasn’t hard to find the tractor beam because the controls were right where the navigation equipment was. A few more mistaken tries and she managed to activate it, using a targeting device to lock onto the Mastodon.
“I think we’re all set,” she said as she stepped back from the control panel.
Dirk stared at a small data screen located in a corner of the bridge. “Um, there seems to be a sequence going on.” His wide jaw hardened as he clinched his teeth.
A tiny blade of fear tore at Sonya’s gut. “What do you mean a sequence?” She came over to stand behind
him. Dirk was right. It sure as hell looked like a sequence even though she didn’t recognize any of the numbers or letters flashing across the screen.
Whittmeyer’s face paled. “Could it be a self-destruct sequence?”
No one said a word. No one dared. Everyone just stared at the screen praying the data would stop coming. But it didn’t stop. It just kept on and on, spitting out symbols evenly spaced.
Sonya felt her scalp start to sweat. “Maybe we should disconnect the tractor beam.”
Dirk nodded grimly, not taking his eyes off the screen. “Maybe that’s a good idea.”
Pushing Whittmeyer out of her way, Sonya rushed to the control panel and tried to remember which button controlled the tractor beam. Panic flooded her brain, but she forced herself to calm down. Freaking out wasn’t going to help anyone. Deciding it was the blue button, she pushed it once, then twice. Nothing happened. “Shit!”
Dirk came over. “What?”
“I can’t get the damn tractor beam to disengage!”
“Are you sure that’s the right button?” Whittmeyer shouted from across the room.
“Yes, I’m sure.” Sonya’s head started to throb. The overhead lights, which moments ago were too low, now became dazzlingly bright. Her mouth went dry just like someone had poured a cupful of sand into it. She was losing control, and a new fear filled her. Oh God, I’m going to have a seizure!
She turned to tell Dirk something was terribly wrong with her, but the second she opened her mouth, the whole world went black.
Chapter Thirteen
Dirk watched the flashing light start up and turned to catch the distant look in Sonya’s eyes. Her gaze was fixed on the light, her pupils wide, and a vacant slackness came over her pretty face. Dirk had a childhood friend with epilepsy and knew the signs. Sonya was having a seizure, and the only question was how severe was it going to be.
Sonya’s brown eyes rolled up into her head, and she collapsed like a marionette whose strings had been cut. Dirk went over and shut off the flashing alarm. Then he carefully grabbed Sonya’s foot and slid her thrashing body to the center of the room where she was less likely to accidentally tear her suit.
Whittmeyer and Floyd stared down at Sonya helplessly. Floyd’s face paled, and he looked like he was going to be sick. “For the love of God, what’s wrong with her?”
“I believe she’s got epilepsy,” Dirk said.
“I didn’t think you could get on the crew with something like that,” Whittmeyer said. His voice was high-pitched and full of tension.
“You can’t. She must have been hiding it,” Dirk said.
“What do we do now?” Floyd asked. He kept glancing nervously at the digital timer on his wrist, and Dirk knew they were getting nervous about how much time they had left.
“We have to wait it out. Seizures usually only last a few minutes,” Dirk said trying to reassure them. But just watching them he knew it was no good.
The combination of the alien timer that did who-knows-what, the alien bodies, and now the seizure of their chief was too much for them. Dirk could see them starting to come unglued. “Why don’t you two finish loading the bodies onto the shuttle and run all the checks? I’ll take care of the chief and bring her along in a second.”
They both nodded, grateful for something to do that would take their minds off what was happening. Dirk watched them hurry off to complete their assigned tasks. When he glanced back down at Sonya, she was coming out of it. He crouched down and watched her eyes flutter open.
“Are you okay?”
Sonya blinked a few times, confused. “What happened?”
“I’ll tell you on the shuttle. Can you get up because we have to get out of here?”
Sonya struggled to her feet like a colt learning how to walk. Dirk put his arm around her waist and let her lean on him as he escorted her out to the shuttle. He didn’t like to think the other two would leave them there, but people could do crazy things under pressure. He didn’t want to take any chances. If they’d had more oxygen in their tanks, he would have ordered the others to stay and try to disconnect the tractor beam, but as things were, they had to get back or die here.
“What happened?” Sonya repeated as they struggled along a narrow passageway on their way back to the docking bay.
“You had a seizure,” he said.
“Oh.”
“You did a hell of a job hiding your epilepsy from Logan. Not to mention keeping it from the rest of the crew.”
“I thought I had it under control,” she said. Her voice was thick and groggy like she’d been drugged. She needed sleep desperately. Seizures wreaked havoc on the human body.
“Are you going to tell Logan?” Sonya asked.
“No,” he said. “You are.”
“I’d rather not.”
“This is a serious safety issue, Sonya. You can’t keep something like this from Logan. And even if I did agree not to say anything, Floyd and Whittmeyer saw the whole thing, too. You know they’re bound to tell him.”
“That’ll mean the end of my career.”
“Maybe it will. You’ll find another career.”
They reached the docking bay, and Sonya fell into a sullen silence. Dirk helped her on board, and they all decontaminated and removed their suits. The alien bodies were placed in cold storage, and everyone took their seats.
Dirk took the Captain’s chair, and Sonya reluctantly went to the back to lie down. Whittmeyer strapped himself into the co-pilot’s chair. “We’re going to have to come back here and shut off that beam. Gonna be hard to do without Sonya. She’s the only one who can kind of read that crap language.”
“We’ll discuss all our options when we get back to the Mastodon,” Dirk said. “Until then, I’d appreciate it if everybody just shut their traps all the way home.”
Chapter Fourteen
Logan watched impatiently as the shuttle docked and the crew unloaded the bodies. He didn’t consider himself a gullible man, but if everyone on the expedition was saying they’d found actual alien bodies, well, he was inclined to believe them. Especially Dirk. Now there was a man’s man. Dirk was a highly decorated Marine vet, smart, resourceful, and a damn nice guy. Why Dirk’s wife had divorced him after his last tour of duty was a complete mystery. So what if the guy was mostly machine parts and hydraulics now? Dirk was everything Logan wished he had been when he was younger. And as it stood, Logan even considered the Marine something of a son.
Sonya, Floyd, Whittmeyer, and Dirk emerged from the shuttle, paused to talk to the ship’s surgeon for a few minutes, and then continued toward Logan, who felt just like a father watching his kids return from a long deployment. “So,” he shouted happily, “how’d everything go?”
Floyd and Whittmeyer muttered something Logan couldn’t hear and strolled on past. That wasn’t a good sign. Sonya and Dirk stopped, both looking grim. Dirk cast a strange look at Sonya. “The Chief has something to tell you.”
Logan kept glancing from Dirk to Sonya, desperate for answers. They were about to be filthy rich. Why were these two trying to spoil everything with bad news? “What?” he asked Sonya.
“I have epilepsy,” she said. Her tone was cool and flat like she was announcing she had dark hair or something. Logan tried to understand why this was so important. He didn’t know the first thing about epilepsy.
“So?”
“So,” Dirk said, “she had a seizure on the alien vessel. It only lasted a few minutes, but it could have endangered us all if it had gone on longer.”
“I think you’re being a little melodramatic,” Sonya said.
Logan scratched the back of his head. Maybe this was important after all. “What’s epilepsy?”
“It’s a disorder―”
“It’s a condition,” Sonya corrected.
“A condition,” Dirk said, “where a person has occasional seizures.” He took a moment to study Logan’s face then continued. “They lose consciousness, fall down, and convulse, stuff like that.�
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Logan studied Sonya. She looked fine to him. “How did you catch that?”
Sonya rolled her eyes. “I didn’t catch it. I’ve had it all my life.” She unbuttoned her pants and lowered them to show the medication drip attached to her leg. “I have successfully controlled my symptoms for the past two years. It’s not a big deal.”
Ghost Ship Page 4
