“What are you doing?” Conner shouted.
“Again, I did not close the door,” the AI stated.
Conner examined the tip of his weapon to ensure that it suffered no significant damage.
“How do people typically open or close these doors?” Conner asked.
“They think it,” the AI replied, “If they want it to open, it opens. If they want it closed, it closes.”
“I’m thinking I want it open and it won’t open,” Dawn said.
“It’s probably related to the same computer that is their brains and is not yours,” the AI stated.
“Do they have to be nearby to operate the door?” Conner asked.
“I don’t know if it’s a requirement, but they typically are nearby when the door is operated,” the AI replied.
Conner looked over at Dawn, then looked to a different unidentified door behind her. He nodded to it with his weapon, causing Dawn to turn and take notice of it. She stepped aside and took a hold of the lever. Conner nodded and she shoved it open quickly.
The room was dark. Dawn reached her hand around and felt for the light. It took her a moment to find it before switching it on. Conner kept his weapon trained on the room as he stepped closer, but it wasn’t necessary. The room was so tightly packed with crates that no one could have comfortably hid in there.
He turned around and located another door a few yards away. He rushed over to the other door and opened it before Dawn had a chance to join him. He switched on the light, revealing yet another room, except this one was filled with a bunch of empty crates in disarray.
“What is the room, AI?” Conner asked, kicking over one of the crates as he examined the room.
“It is one of ten mining storage rooms,” the AI replied, “The previous room that you entered was also a mining storage.”
“Mining? What kind of priority is that for a new colony?” Conner asked, mostly to himself, “The previous room wasn’t raided, but this one was. What do these rooms contain specifically?”
“The previous room was mining support which consists mostly of lighting and ventilation supplies,” the AI stated, “The room you are currently in contains clearing charges.”
“Clearing charges?” Dawn asked, “Please tell me that’s not what I think it is.”
“Clearing charges are used in mining to rapidly surpass impenetrable portions of rock,” the AI replied.
“Are they explosive?” Conner asked.
“Yes,” the AI replied.
“And this room isn’t kept locked?” Conner asked.
“Why would it be locked?” it asked.
Conner turned to Dawn, sharing a look of exasperation.
“The ones who shut the door on you are probably in the cargo hold, Conner,” she whispered, “And what of the explosives? Who cares?”
“Who-”
She put her hand over his mouth.
“Who cares, Conner?” she whispered, “We’re outnumbered in a three-mile ship where the enemy has the advantage of familiarity. We have the assistance of a computer who denies there is anyone here but the two of us. Our enemy now has enough explosives to blow this ship to Kingdom Come. Who cares? We already won.”
“We won?” he blurted, only to have her shush him again.
He lowered his voice, “You’re giving up, yet you say we won.”
“What was the initial goal?” she whispered, “To protect the Earth from invasion. If these freaks blow this ship up, we still achieved that initial goal. Not every goal, but we will have achieved the most important one.”
Conner reached over and closed the door. Then he overturned two of the crates and sat down on one of them. He waved his hand at the other crate, offering her a seat.
“We need to talk,” he whispered, his face next to hers, “If they wanted to blow this ship up, they would have done it right here in this very room. Whatever they stole the charges for; they are to serve a different purpose. I’ll grant you that they sabotaged the ship, but they didn’t sabotage its ability to navigate the stars and they didn’t sabotage the safety of their people. There’s a lot more going on here than hate-filled terrorism like back home.”
“But what else could a room full of explosives be used for? Why did they damage the cables that would have allowed the pilot’s command to wake the Ophidians?” she asked.
“Whether it’s just crazy paranoia or whether it’s a legitimate fear, I don’t know. But what I do know is that they don’t trust the AI,” he whispered, “Everything they do is an effort to separate themselves from the AI. They cut the cables to the cargo hold. They hacked into the brain cables with that yellow thing in there. They have done something to themselves or to the AI’s perception that renders their own existence invisible. Everything tells me they fear the AI.”
“I never thought of that,” she agreed, “But why? The AI doesn’t even seem all that concerned about the happenings in this ship. The only time it got angry was when it realized it had failed in its mission.”
“Maybe they don’t want to go where this ship is taking them,” he said, “I really don’t know.”
“If that were the case, they would have been satisfied when we altered our course,” she said, “Unless maybe they only want to return to their home world. That would mean that any other planet would only serve to upset them.”
“That’s as good a theory as any,” he agreed, “That would explain just about everything we’ve seen. Well, except for the theft of the explosives.”
“We need to talk to these Ophidians,” she said, “We need to find out what they know and why they have a problem with the AI. Maybe they know something about the AI that we don’t – something we need to know. Maybe we’d be willing to join forces with them if we knew what they know.”
“And maybe they’re crazy,” he whispered.
She laughed, drawing away from him and looking at him. She placed her hand on his cheek, feeling his two days of stubble.
“And maybe they’re crazy, but we’ll never know unless we can communicate with them,” she said, her hand still gently cupping his cheek, “How will you shave on this ship? How will I shave?”
“You’re able to grow a beard too?” he asked, touching her cheek.
He leaned in to her and realized in that moment that she was somehow expecting the very kiss he planted on her lips. The kiss was gentle, tender, and lasted nearly half a minute longer than Conner had intended. He separated his lips from hers and breathed out an apology.
“Why are you apologizing?” she asked.
“I didn’t mean to… I don’t know where that came from,” he said, “I… I didn’t give you a choice.”
“I had a choice and I accepted,” she whispered.
He smiled, “Then I revoke my apology.”
“As you should,” she said, patting his cheek lightly, “So, returning to our discussion, I propose that we focus on learning their language. We can’t rely on the AI to be our interpreter, especially if we don’t know if we’re able to trust it.”
“I agree, but even while we’re learning the language, I would like to see what we can discover throughout this ship. I’d like to see if there’s anything beyond the cargo bay. I’d also like to look for those explosives. And if possible, I’d like to find out where the AI is technically located and pay it a visit,” he whispered.
“That sounds like a plan to me,” she replied.
Seventeen
Learning the language of the Ophidians proved to be much more difficult than either of them had imagined. While learning the Ophidian words for specific nouns may have been a fairly simple task requiring only memorization, the verbs and sentence structure proved to be nearly impossible for them to grasp. The AI didn’t lose patience with them even as Conner and Dawn struggled to form sentences that didn’t fit together the same way the English language did.
The language lessons continued for the next several days while the two of them investigated various sections of the ship. T
hey discovered a multitude of storage rooms, most of which offered them nothing of interest. One room however that piqued their interest was a storage room devoted to cases upon cases of alien rifles and ammunition. The ghosts, a name they now used to refer to the Ophidians who were wandering the ship, appeared to have left the armory untouched. Their plans apparently didn’t require the use of portable weapons.
The ghosts continued to avoid detection throughout a full week of their shipboard journeys. It wasn’t until almost ten days had passed that they finally caught sight of one of the ghosts. It happened on the day they discovered what the explosives were being used for.
As Conner and Dawn had been improving their fluency in the Ophidian language, albeit on a preschool or elementary level, the AI stopped speaking to them in English. This was at Dawn’s recommendation the previous day to which Conner agreed.
On the day that they would see the ghost with their own eyes, Conner and Dawn had just finished a lunch of alien corn flakes with some glasses of metallic flavored water. They had just convinced the AI to teach them how to operate the basic controls of the ship’s shuttlecraft. The lesson would take place in the same shuttle bay where they had said their last goodbyes to the BP1 crew.
Conner was leading the way into the shuttle bay when it happened. Barely a moment had passed since the door opened before a metal object clanged loudly onto the floor. Their attention was drawn to one of the nearby shuttles where a red hooded specter darted quickly out of view.
“Wait!” Conner shouted, changing immediately to their tongue, “Deng lok! Vee oclan ee!”
He shouted the last phrase twice, promising that they were friends. If the wraith had heard his pleas, it ignored them because a door opened and shut somewhere beyond the row of shuttlecraft.
“The door to the middle passage was just accessed,” the AI stated, speaking only in Ah Fidonay.
“It was one of the ghosts,” Dawn replied, speaking also in the alien tongue, “We saw it.”
Dawn and Conner rushed over toward the door where the alien had made its hasty escape.
“I still have no record of any living creatures except the two of you,” the AI stated, “Even a moment ago.”
“We saw it,” Conner said, speaking Ah Fidonay, “You even told us where it ran to. How can you not see it?”
“As I’ve stated before, I don’t know the answer to this. If you would like me to keep a better eye on things, you can fix the sabotage that was done to the cargo hold,” the AI replied, “Until you do that, I have very little access to what is going on in the aft section of the ship.”
“Could you speak slower, please?” Conner asked, unable to decipher even half of what the AI was saying.
“Would you like me to start speaking in your language again?” the AI asked.
He sighed, then looked over at Dawn. She shook her head.
“No, it’s best if I learn to keep up. Just please slow down a little if you have a lot to say,” Conner said.
The AI repeated everything it had stated before, but this time it extended the pause between each word. Conner and Dawn approached the shuttle where the ghost had initially been spotted.
“We’re not fixing the sabotage yet,” Conner replied, choosing not to elaborate further on that subject.
As they approached the backside of the shuttle, it became evident that the ghost had been working in the area. The back hatch of the shuttle was open and metal tools were strewn about on the ground. Conner also noticed several of the shuttle’s padded seats stacked up against the wall.
“What are the ghosts up to?” Conner asked, returning to English.
“I’ll give you two guesses and the first one doesn’t count,” Dawn said.
He turned to her, realizing that her attention was focused on the interior of the shuttle. It was there that he discovered the reason for the missing explosives. Someone was in the process of installing a rear-facing missile launching system in the back of the shuttle. On the floor of the shuttle were three amateur-constructed missiles, each about six feet in length. Rippling welds encompassed the rockets at random intervals as though the creators of the missiles added coffee can upon coffee can until the missile achieved the necessary length. Instead of coffee cans however, these were built from various cylinders that were readily available on the ship.
The fins and wings that were welded at the front and the back were made with movable steering vanes. Conner pointed these out to Dawn; evidence to him that whoever constructed the missiles was not really as “amateur” as he’d initially thought. The missiles most likely contained a guiding system, allowing the missiles to be steered toward their target.
“It’s like they’re preparing for a war,” Dawn said, “Why take the time to build-”
Conner reached over and cut her words off with his hand. He then pointed toward the ceiling.
“We still don’t know who the good guys are here,” he whispered.
“But surely this isn’t ‘good’,” she said, pulling his hand away and gesturing toward the missiles, “I’m getting more and more worried the more I see here.”
“I think we need to go aft,” he whispered, “We’ve checked out almost every inch of the forward portions of this ship. I think the answers we need are aft since that area seems to be cut off from the rest of the ship.”
She looked at him, then down at the missiles stacked inside the shuttle.
“When do we attempt it?” she asked, “They nearly killed you with the door the last time.”
“Let’s do it tomorrow. Only this time, we’re gaining access by using the leftovers from the BP1 mission,” he said.
She smiled, then leaned in and kissed his cheek.
“Sounds like a plan,” she said.
Eighteen
Conner lay there in his bed staring at the ceiling above him. Dawn shivered suddenly, drawing her leg overtop him as he held her. Three nights ago, she came to his room asking if they could share a bed. She promised that her question was pure in nature and that even with three blankets; she was too cold and would often wake up shivering.
Conner was more than happy to invite her into his bed, as he also couldn’t seem to stay warm at night especially if he lost part of the covers in his sleep. As they grew closer throughout their days together, the kisses became more frequent and their conversations grew more intimate. He knew in spite of himself that he was falling in love with her and she with him, but neither had the courage to speak the actual word to each other, whether in English or Ophidian.
So when she stood in that doorway three nights previous and asked if she could share his bed, he could think of nothing he wanted more in the whole universe. Even if he had to hold her all night and struggle to control his desires, he would gladly share his bed.
He wondered on this particular evening if the pretense of wanting to share their body heat beneath the covers was actually just a way to conceal that she was afraid to be alone on the ship anymore. Everywhere she went, she somehow managed to bring him with her. Even when she bathed, she somehow always manufactured a conversation that required he stay outside the door to continue talking to her. He didn’t mind it at all and as a matter fact, he enjoyed their conversations. He only worried how long it could continue before they both started searching for some time alone and away from each other.
He didn’t ever recall looking for time away from Nicole, so he wondered if that could ever happen now with Dawn. With Nicole, he was always searching for more and more time to be with her. When she died, he reevaluated every moment they had spent together and wondered if he had made the best of those moments. Then he reevaluated the time they had spent apart and questioned whether those moments were even necessary.
“What are you thinking about?” she asked.
“Just… life,” he sighed, running his fingers through her hair, “I thought you were asleep.”
“You look sad and I heard you sigh three or four times,” she said, “Really, tell me what’s
wrong.”
He bent down and kissed her forehead.
“She’s haunting you again, isn’t she?” Dawn asked.
He tilted his head back and looked at her.
“Am I that transparent?” he asked, “You haven’t even known me long enough to be seeing through me.”
“I just have a sixth sense when it comes to other women,” she said, “I can always tell when another woman has a hold on my man and right now, Conner, you’re my man whether you like it or not.”
“So that means that Nicole is ‘the other woman’,” he muttered, “I’m sorry that I’m such a haunted man.”
“How long has it been?” she asked, tracing her fingertips across his chest.
“Three years,” he said, “I started dating her through the mail my last year in the Navy. When I got my discharge, I asked her to marry me. She said no.”
“No?” she leaned up on her elbow and looked at him.
“She said that we didn’t know each other well enough because most of our dating had been spent on the phone or in letters. So we started dating in a more physical sense,” he said, “It was nice. She was an elementary school teacher and I was leasing a boat while determined to start my own business. The next time I asked her to marry me, she said yes.”
“But you never married,” she said.
“No,” he said, “She died in a diving accident.”
He sighed again, then looked down at her, trying to force something of a smile for her.
“Were you there?” she asked.
“Yes, that’s the worst part,” he said, “We were on a dive in a blue hole in the Caribbean. A ‘blue hole’ is something like an underwater cave system. Divers love exploring these and I’d already taken her through one before. This one was like a random hole going straight down into the sea floor.
“We were down about a hundred and fifty feet in a small cave when something went wrong with her equipment. She panicked and pulled the regulator from her mouth. I swam over to her. The worst part is, we’d gone over everything before and she was smart as a whip, so I don’t know why she didn’t…”
Ghosts of Ophidian Page 10
