“I’m sleeping,” The professor said, “What do you want?”
“Do you know what’s happening? There’s been an accident. The Captain wants to see you in the bridge.”
There was a long pause. The professor was in his early forties. His eyes were small and beady, browny green beneath his long haired eyebrows and messy tussle of hair.
“Who are you again?” Barrett said, his little eyes moving left and right in a rapid and suspicious motion.
It took Jackson five seconds to decide on what his title was on the ship. He didn’t like to admit being a “deck hand”, which was the label Vinn had given him.
“I’m the Captain’s assistant,” He said, “He asked me to come get you. We might need to use some of the equipment you brought. There’s been an accident.”
Just then there was a shudder. The Glasgow had hit something big. Jackson fell into the professor’s room. The holotart on his bed squealed indignantly before blinking out of existence. The professor wasn’t the least bit embarrassed – even if Jackson didn’t know where to look.
“That felt like something hitting the ship,” Barrett said. “What is going on?”
It took them a minute to get back to the bridge. In that time Barrett had a reasonably good idea what was going on. The information was sitting on the top of his mind. He was starting to slowly absorb it when the captain’s tanned hand firmly gripped his and the other big hand cupped his slightly hunched shoulder.
“Julian, isn’t it?” Vinn said, “Professor of applied dynamics in space, I believe.”
“The Spirit of the Future’s been in an accident,” Barrett said, “That’s what your assistance told me. Is… is that wreckage? Is that a shuttle?”
Vinn Apple rolled his bottom lip under his top lip, hidden by the moustache. His broad smile faded and he gently released the scientist’s hand. He softly patted the man’s shoulder.
“Yes, those are pieces of wreckage from the Spirit. I’m afraid there’s been a terrible accident.”
“I can see that,” The small eyes studied the large view screen carefully, “That shuttle’s under power,” he ran up to the view screen, “They’ll never get out without my gate keys.”
“Exactly,” Vinn Apple grinned again, “There are people on board that shuttle. With all this debris flying around it’s only a matter of time before the shuttle gets destroyed. They can carry thirty passengers. They can’t wait for the rescue party to get here.”
“Yes, of course,” Barrett said, “I’ve got three remote gates. But you told me there was no way to launch them from the ship.”
“Sorry professor, I lied,” Apple’s grin went lopsided and his eyes sparkled, “I just didn’t like the idea when you put it by me before. Don’t take I personally. I just don’t care for throwing stuff out of my ship when we go on a pl…” he was about to say ‘pleasure cruise’ but caught himself, “When we go on an excursion. It makes the premium higher. The insurance.”
Barrett’s little eyes were steady and staring. He seemed to find some courage.
“It would have been nice to know that before I booked the flight. I had to work three extra shifts for a month to put the money together for this.”
Vazquez and Jackson locked eyes. Then they both looked at the Captain. The King didn’t pay any attention to this. He was busy keeping the ship steady in the wormhole.
“You’re right,” Apple said, “That wasn’t fair. But we can discuss this later, professor. Right now we need to focus on getting that shuttle out of the wormhole.
“To do that you’re going to need to attach one of my gate keys to the front section of the shuttle,” Barrett said with renewed boldness, “And since we can’t use the remote control in the wormhole we’re going to have to run a wire from this ship. The longest wire I have is about three hundred meters. So your pilot is going to have to get the ship that close if this is going to work.”
There was a long pause. Nobody said a word. The shuttle was being battered by small pieces of debris. Larger pieces were swirling around the wormhole. Some of them were big enough that they would crush the shuttle if they collided with it. Others were so large that they might even break through the deflector shields at the front of the Glasgow, destroying the ship.
“I can do that,” King said quietly.
“Get to it.”
2195AD - Spirit of the Future Wreckage.
The door of the room was getting ready to break. Ice was forming around the edges of it. He was cold. He'd been colder, but he was still cold.
Jack Sloane was shivering. He tried not to think about what it would be like when the door burst open. It was difficult not to recall stories he'd heard about deaths in the vacuum of space. Vacuum training was something he'd found quite terrifying - all five seconds of it. He wondered if there was anything he could do to quicken his death. They said that holding your breath drew it out. Otherwise consciousness was generally lost within ten to twenty seconds. That's what he remembered.
The air smelled different. It wasn't particularly difficult to breathe, but his heart was beating faster and his breathing was more rapid. That was the panic, not the oxygen running out. But would it be preferable if the oxygen did run out? Would he simply fall asleep? What the Hell would the ten to twenty seconds be like in the vacuum? Gasping, gagging, choking? Would it be like trying to hold your breath underwater? What happened if he tried to take a breath? Would his lungs be turned inside out? Would his body explode? What would it feel like?
It was so cold. He could barely move. He hadn't tried to stand up for ten minutes or more. He didn't know if he could. The cold was agonising, like an ache right through his body. Strangely, his senses seemed more acute than ever. His fingers wouldn't move enough for him to use Pamela now and when he tried to use his voice the words were strange to him. Fantastically, he imagined he could see his own words as they floated towards the buckling door. Multi-coloured shapes twisting and turning and caressing each other as they tumbled.
He drew a deep breath. The ice chill seared his lungs. For a moment he thought his tongue might have frozen, but of course it hadn't. He realised his thoughts were getting more random, more incoherent. It was hypothermia.
He had been trained about hypothermia. He'd experienced it first hand and knew what to expect. The confusion would begin. It had already started, he reminded himself. Hallucinations. Delusions. Perhaps even euphoria.
His room door groaned. But there was another sound. A deeper, bumping sound as the whole room shook. The debris shifted again. Pamela fell out of his hand and out of sight. He moved his hand to reach for the PA but his fingers seemed to be stuck together. He brought them in front of his eyes to examine them, but his vision was blurry. He tried reaching with his other hand. His fingers moved more easily and he was able to find Pamela. He held her in front of his face, but her screen was blank.
“P…” he mouthed more than he could say, “Puh… Pah…”
The room seemed to tilt. Something fell on his shoulder. Something big and heavy, but there wasn't the pain he would have expected. It was the video unit, he realised, and now the same unit was floating back up in front of his face, Other debris followed. It took him a few seconds to realise that the room had become weightless. The gravity had failed. He wondered if that meant that the air recycler had run out of power too. But there was still light. The lights were working.
The door creaked again. This time he could see the movement for sure. He wondered how it could possibly withstand the forces that must surely be trying to pull it from its hinges. Outside the door lay the vacuum of space and a horrible, terrifying death. Twenty to forty seconds of horror, then death. Was it better to die that way than to be killed by the cold? And if the air recycler had failed, would he start to choke soon?
He instinctively gathered the blankets as they floated away around him. It was difficult to keep them close as everything was floating now. Weightless or not, some of the heavy objects in the room really hurt
as they crashed against his shoulders and neck.
2195AD - EWS Justice Six.
The Justice Six's reversing thrusters fired. The great ship started to slow down, but it had already flashed past three of the Spirit of the Future's shuttles.
“Emergency stations!” Jaxx called out, unnecessarily, “Engines full reverse. Energise the shield generators!”
Even as the Captain spoke, the Justice Six had already passed through one of the shuttles. The shuttle was vaporised and the single occupant killed instantly without even realising something had happened. The Justice Six's fragile communications array was destroyed in the impact; Its delicate components shattered into thousands of pieces. The Justice Six's forward hull armour was its strongest and only a few denser parts of the shuttle penetrated the thick outer layer to become embedded in the spongier secondary armour. Meanwhile, the reversing engines worked furiously to slow the ship down. More pieces of the Spirit of the Future smashed into the Justice Six's hull as its speed dramatically reduced.
“Name of the Gods!” Jaxx whispered, “What is this?”
“We're eighty light years off course,” The navigator's voice was stunted as he wrestled with the heavy ship's controls, “The wormhole's been compromised. The exit point is no longer stable. Its flipping, sir - moving in and out of normal space. We're lucky we got out safely.”
“It’s wreckage,” Finn said, “Looks like an alien spacecraft of some kind. Looks like quite a sizable ship…”
“Impossible!” Jaxx thundered, “There's nobody out here with a ship of this size. Not anymore.”
“It’s something new then,” Finn stated nonchalantly, “We must report this to the Empire. It’s got to be connected with the incident at Jann Linn city.”
The communications officer glanced towards Jaxx and then towards the second officer. Jaxx's cold eye glared at Finn. Jaxx licked his numb lips. They stayed horribly wet as he turned to the tactical station. The communications officer was ignoring the tension now. Finn couldn't. He was part of it. Finn did not see the tiny movements of the communications officer's eyebrows and the slight shaking of the head.
“Captain?” Finn said, “We must contact the Empire. This incident…”
“Charge particle cannons one through four,” Jaxx growled, ignoring his second officer. “Make sure we're at a safe distance.”
“For what?” Finn whispered close to the Captain's ear. His anger was very obvious.
Jaxx stepped back from the view screen. He realised that Finn was holding onto his arm, lightly yet firmly. It was the arm that lacked the strength that it had once had. That made Jaxx hate the action even more, somehow. Twenty years ago he'd have jerked it away fiercely.
“The controls are heavy, sir,” The navigator was reporting, “Feels like we've taken damage to the port manoeuvring thrusters. She's responding, but she's not cooperating.”
“Sir, this is an opportunity…” Finn said quietly, intensely. He finally noticed Jaxx's burning stare and decided on a different tact. He said, loudly, “We must report this to the Empire before we do anything else!”
“Well, we're not in a position to do that. And perhaps you can man the engineering station or assist the navigator instead of prattling your weak-minded ethos in my shamed ear. Now, target the small vessels!” Jaxx barked, “Particle cannons lowest setting. I want to see what they'll withstand before we blast the inferiors back to wherever they saw fit to come from.”
Finn tugged the captain's arm again.
“Sir, we must investigate this phenomenon,” He said roughly, insistently, “The Empire will want to know more about…”
“Take… your… hand… away, Commander,” Jaxx snarled, “Or I'll sever it at your wrist, so help me Gods!”
The entire command room was silent. Everyone was watching the scene before them.
“Remove it!” Jaxx pushed his second command away with a strength that surprised everyone, “Weapons. Target the nearest debris cluster. Power factor one. Mr Finn - man the engineering console and see what use you can make of yourself.”
Finn glared at him. Jaxx did not see the young man's fingers twitch where they rested inches above his Quartermaster pistol, but they did.
“Weapons locked on. Target fifteen kilometres forward. We have matched relative speed,” Koo Miikloap reported, “At your command, sir.”
“Open fire,” Jaxx rasped, “Cannons one and three only.”
“Sir, there are life signs in the debris,” The navigator said emotionlessly, “Definitely survivors of some kind.”
“I imagine there are,” Jaxx rasped, “But not for long. Fire.”
The shuttle seemed to zig zag in front of the Justice Six, but Jaxx knew it was the big ship's thrusters struggling to counter the incredible force of being ejected from the wormhole. Jaxx watched as blue energy trails from his ship touched the rear of the shuttle. Sparks and small pieces of debris immediately burst away from the back of the shuttle. When the blue cannon stopped firing the shuttle engine continued to plume debris and flame.
“Pathetic,” Jaxx hissed, “One tenth power and their engines are aflame. What kind of inferior is this?”
“We're in a debris field. This is obviously a crash or accident site. These vessels may be escape pods. They've no need for armour or strength.”
“No need for strength?” Jaxx didn't even look in Finn's direction, “I think you have a little Relathon in you.”
Finn did not hear or react to the insult. He stayed silent now as Jaxx hovered over the weapons officer's shoulder.
“Increase power by a tenth. I want to fry…” he lingered on the last word purposefully. Finn wondered if it was for his benefit. Was he being teased? “I want to see their engines sizzle and pop.”
“Whoever they are?” Finn said so quietly that Jaxx almost hear.
“Whoever,” Jaxx whirled on Finn and his cruel eye penetrated Finn with a cold hate, “Whatever, whoever. I don't care. Let them burn,” He glared at the smaller, younger man, “It is as it is written!” he screamed.
Finn didn't know what to say. The weapons officer was making the adjustments. Jaxx's scream seemed to echo through the control room, but it only reverberated in Finn's mind. Finn turned to Jaxx. Jaxx was still watching him with a casual air of disregard. Finn opened his mouth to speak, but there was no time.
The blue cannons fired again. Energised particles of energy following an ionised pathway through space. In less than a third of a second the energy incinerated the damaged shuttle's propulsion system. There was an explosion and more fragments of the engine came away; some flying back towards the Justice Six.
A large piece of debris flashed past the view screen, surprising even Jaxx and obscuring Jaxx's view of the shuttle. When it had passed the shuttle was no longer visible as anything more than spinning, sparking Catherine wheel in space. Then it was gone.
More debris appeared. Justice Six had slowed to manageable speeds now - speeds at which the manoeuvring thrusters actually played some part in her path through space. She was flying among the debris now rather than hurtling through it.
“What… is that?” Jaxx exhaled, pointing at the screen, “It's another transport of some kind, but…”
The object was about twenty feet long. It tumbled through space at almost half the speed of light. Justice Six matched speed and closed slightly as the captain studied the strange shining grey shape.
“It looks like a personal flyer,” Finn said, “Of course, it’s like nothing I've seen before. But there are striking similarities to some flyers I've seen.”
“That’s what I was thinking,” Jaxx admitted, “Are there life signs on board?”
“No sir. Its empty.”
Justice Six closed to about a half a kilometre from the object. The debris field had grown sparse. There were no more shuttles. The sealed off lifeboat compartments - most of them empty - continued to drift further apart at incredible speed.
“We need to get to the scientist,” Jaxx s
eemed to suddenly remember his mission, “Can we re-enter the wormhole? When can we get underway?”
“I'll start computing a new entry point,” Finn stated coldly, “We'll likely have the same problems with debris in the wormhole, but we can run with the forward shields up. It won't be without risk.”
“Nothing is,” Jaxx said firmly, “Alright. While you're making your computations I want that object brought on board,” He rubbed his bearded chin, “A personal flyer. How… bizarre…”
ELEVEN
2195AD - SS Glasgow.
Michelle Vazquez caught Jackson's eye. He locked onto her gaze. His gaze was impertinent, cheeky. But there was something more there. Something else. For a moment she imagined it was respect. She held his gaze much longer than she should have and they both knew it. She could feel King's grin even without looking his way.
“What?” she grunted too harshly, “Or are you just enjoying the view?”
“The professor's on channel five,” Jackson said, “Captain's with him. They're arming the torpedo tube with the professor's… device.”
The debris inside the wormhole had increased. King had noted, to no-one's particular interest, that some of the debris was exiting the wormhole of its own accord. She wondered, absently, where the debris would end up. She was brought back to her senses when more of the debris clattered against the hull.
“We're going to send the... device... now,” the captain's voice suddenly reassured her. She realised that she'd missed him, “The wormhole's getting crowded. Have we got any readings on the shuttle?”
It was King who answered. He'd slipped into his professional attitude. No more sly grins and subtle glances. He was king again, not clown.
“Nothing different. I can't tell if anything's alive on board or not. But it is getting busy in this gate. I've auto sealed eight hull fractures around the forward sensor array and our own emitter has taken a bump or two. But it's strong.”
Beyond the Starport Adventure (Bullet Book 1) Page 20
