by Colin Weldon
She sensed India tense up. There was a light shimmer in the air just behind Tyrell as Jack’s alien figure emerged from his personal cloaking device. Aron and India’s mouths dropped open, as they raised up their heads to meet the alien’s gaze a few feet above their eye line.
“Holy shit,” said India out loud.
Carrie smiled. She was in genuine shock.
“Easy, India,” said Aron not taking his eyes off the alien.
“Sorry,” said India realising that she spoke it so loudly.
“Jack, this is Aron Elstone and India Walder, the leaders of the human colony,” said Carrie with her arms outstretched.
“Greetings,” said Jack drawing his thin white lips back and revealing a set of sharp teeth.
Carrie looked back at Aron who cleared his throat as he took a step forward. He raised his right hand and gave a gentle wave.
“Eh, hello,” he said in awe.
“You have come a very long way,” Jack said.
“You speak English?” India said from behind Aron.
“That I do, your linguistics were available to me through Carrie when we first met. It was not too difficult to assimilate the information,” Jack replied.
His large almond-shaped eyes flicked from India back to Aron.
“We owe you a great deal of thanks,” Aron said.
“You owe me nothing, Aron, it was Carrie’s insistence that brought my vessel to yours,” Jack replied.
Aron looked at Carrie.
“Well, we thank you anyway,” Aron replied.
Jack nodded his head. They stood looking at each other for what Carrie considered to be an eternity.
“You have concerns, yes?” Jack finally asked.
“Eh, yes we do. I am presuming that your people are walking unseen throughout the habitat ring and I would ask that if you wish to interact with us that you do so in plain sight. As you can appreciate, we have been living under oppressive rule our entire lives and it makes my people nervous to be under unseen observation,” Aron said.
Carrie noticed how his nervousness seemed to suddenly dissipate and his voice was full of the kind of assertion that a fearless leader would hope to convey.
“Of course, we will abide by your wishes. If you feel that your people are ready for us to reveal ourselves to you, we will walk amongst you uncloaked. We did not want to startle you,” Jack said, “I can assure you, Aron, that this was meant out of sheer curiosity. There was no subterfuge at play.”
“Thank you,” Aron said.
“Where are you from?” India suddenly said from behind Aron.
Jack turned to meet India’s gaze.
“We are from where you are from,” Jack said.
“I don’t understand,” India replied.
Carrie turned to India.
“Jack’s race once inhabited our part of the galaxy. They were forced from it from the Targlagdu threat. Now their home world is positioned outside our galaxy. It orbits a rogue star in intergalactic space,” Carrie said.
“That’s impossible,” India said.
“Not impossible, I can assure you, India. You should consider yourselves very lucky that the Targlagdu did not intercept your space stations,” Jack said.
“Okay, what is this Targlagdu thing?” Aron asked.
“Not a thing, but living machines that feed off the life of galaxies. Consuming them,” Jack said turning and raising his arm above his head. His long three digits attached to his hands began moving in circles.
Carrie was about to object to what Jack was about to show them but realised that it was probably the right time for full disclosure anyway, so she remained silent. The centre of the control room suddenly came to life with an array of holographic images. Alien writing hovered in mid-air as Jack worked the virtual control system of the on-board computer. An image began to take shape from a central point in the room. What looked like a huge spherical space station came into being and began rotating above their heads.
“What the hell is that?” India said.
Carrie turned to face India.
“That,” she said taking a pause, “is a Targlagdu vessel. A planet sized machine that consumes life and replicates it. It almost destroyed The Agathon. There are millions of vessels like this one swarming through our galaxy right now, consuming planets and alien life forms. It feeds on all life. It is the reason we had to rescue you so quickly.”
“Okay,” India said, with a drawn-out, almost sarcastic tone.
Aron looked stone faced at the rotating ball of metal hovering above the ground.
“Have you ever heard of the Signal Makers?” Carrie asked them both.
Aron nodded to Carrie.
“I thought it was a myth,” Aron said trying to clear what sounded like a dry throat.
“It isn’t,” Carrie replied, “What do you know about why you spent the last thousand years drifting through space?”
“Only what the recovered message from Chancellor Sienna Clarke told us. That the Earth was destroyed by an alien race, and that The Agathon was sent looking for those responsible. It was pretty vague and most of the data rods were too degraded to retrieve any other information. Until you showed up, we thought we were alone,” Aron replied.
“What you refer to as the Signal Makers are a highly destructive race of beings systematically destroying worlds in your galaxy,” Jack replied, “They believe that they are protecting the universe from the Targlagdu threat.”
“And I thought we had problems with Arturo. I think I need to sit down,” India said.
Carrie glanced at India, who genuinely looked like she was about to keel over. She looked at Jack and motioned to him to provide her with a seat. Jack acknowledged it and gently swirled his fingers in the air again. A small section of the floor began to rise and morph into a small stool. India took the seat.
“What’s the plan?” Aron said cutting to the chase.
“As you know, we will be settling your colony on a temporary home world long abandoned by Jack’s race until we figure out how to deal with this threat,” Carrie said.
“How safe will our people be?” Aron replied.
Carrie looked at Jack and then at Tyrell whose black eyes were showing no emotion. She sensed something strange coming from Tyrell. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but it made her feel uneasy.
“The planet is protected by a shield. While my people have not had a presence on it for millennia, the shield is still intact. It lies deep within a gaseous cloud nebula and should provide sufficient protection from the Targlagdu sensing systems, as long as you keep your energy outputs to a minimum,” Jack said.
Carrie thought about that for a second and suddenly looked at Jack.
“Wait, what?” Carrie said.
Jack turned his large almond shaped eyes to look at her.
“What do you mean energy outputs?” she asked.
Jack looked at Tyrell.
“The Targlagdu vessels hone in on artificial signal and energy outputs generated by technically advanced civilisations. It is how it targets what it perceives as races that it can use as replicants to power itself,” Jack said.
“You never told me that!” Carrie said suddenly feeling alarmed.
A brief silence followed.
“What kind of energy signatures would draw its attention?” Carrie asked.
“It’s not an immediate cause for concern, Carrie. The shield system will mask any transmissions to and from the planet,” Jack replied.
Carrie turned her body to face Jack.
“What about weapons fire from orbit? Like the weapons system that your people installed on board The Agathon?” Carrie said showing alarm in her voice.
It was Tyrell who answered her next.
“There would be no reason to fire weapons in orbit, Carrie,” Tyr
ell said with a flat tone in his voice.
“Yes, well, my people would not install a new system on board without test firing it! I know my father and he will want to fire those cannons before he lands to make sure that they work!” Carrie said raising her voice in alarm.
Tyrell looked at Jack.
“Would test firing those cannons register a significant enough energy signature to draw the attention of a Targlagdu vessel?” Carrie said looking fiercely at both Tyrell and Jack.
Jack looked at Carrie and calmly answered.
“It might,” he replied flatly.
Carrie’s heart began to race. She looked at Aron suddenly realising the danger that she had just put them all in.
“How fast can this ship go?” Aron said to Carrie.
Carrie looked back at Jack.
“Well?” Carrie asked Jack.
“Fast,” replied Jack.
8:
THE AGATHON
Charly Boyett opened her eyes to the sound of her comm panel bleeping next to her bed. Her head was spinning. She felt like she had just woken up from a coma. She arched her back up and tried to stretch out her exhausted muscles.
“I’m awake!” she shouted to nobody. She fell back into her pillow and placed her hands on her face.
“Fuck!” she shouted into her fingers.
She looked over at the bleeping comm panel and reached over tapping the activation sequence.
“Boyett!” she said out loud.
“Sorry, Charly, it’s time, we need you on the bridge,” came Chavel’s voice.
Boyett took a deep breath and stretched out the muscles of her face.
“God, I hate you, Chavel, you know that?” she said.
Brubaker had been right. She needed rest. Her body felt like marshmallow.
“So, that’s a no to marrying me then, yeah?” Chavel replied.
Boyett smiled.
“Would a punch in the face suffice?” Boyett replied.
“You’re a real lady, ye know that?” Chavel replied, “Get your ass up to the bridge or I’m gonna take the flight controls.”
Boyett sat up in her bed. Her long dark hair curled around her shoulders.
“Over my dead body,” she said, “I’m on my way, Boyett out.”
She tapped the comm panel cutting the transmission. She remained in a seated position and closed her eyes again laying her chin on her chest.
“Come on, Charly, get up,” she said to herself.
She swung her legs over the bed and landed her feet on the cold surface of her bedroom floor. She pushed herself off the bed and walked towards the bathroom. While rounding a corner, her thigh suddenly struck the corner of a table.
“Fuck!” she cried as she keeled over in pain.
The sounds of things falling off the surface and crashing to the floor made her turn her head. Another piercing pain shot up her leg as she cursed the sharp corner of the table.
“Asshole!” she shouted at it. The pain subsided as she looked at the fallen objects.
There were remnants of a small eagle ornament lying all over the floor. The ceramic replica, with its wings spread wide as if in full flight, had been a gift from the captain.
“Ah shit!” she said as she grimaced, kneeling down to pick up its pieces.
She had been amazed it had lasted this long considering the shit the ship had gone through, but this was the first time it had actually broken. As she gathered the pieces up in her hands, she stopped and looked at the broken picture frame lying next to it. It was taken on the day of her graduation from flight school. Both parents standing proudly behind a uniformed and young-looking Charly Boyett. She dropped down and sat on the floor with her back against the table looking at the photograph. It was the only thing she had left of them. She began picking up the broken glass of the frame gently with her thumb and forefinger, taking great care not to damage or tear the photo. It had been taken on one of those old film cameras from the 21st century. It had a beautiful grain across it that you just couldn’t replicate with holographic technology. It was one of a kind. She had been so busy fighting, she hadn’t thought about them in weeks. She looked at the kind supporting eyes of her lost family and began to cry. She welcomed it. She wanted them to see how much she missed them.
After a few minutes, she dried her eyes and laid the frame, without its glass covering, back on the table and walked slowly into the shower.
BRIDGE
Barrington sat in his centre seat on the bridge and took a sip of the fresh cup of coffee he had just poured himself. He looked up at the view screens and watched the large alien planet rotating peacefully below them and the colourful nebula that it inhabited.
There was a general calm on the bridge as Chavel and Ripley went over some data at the navigational console. They were currently waiting for Boyett to arrive at the bridge. He was also waiting for the final power checks from Tosh in the engine room. For the next few minutes, he found himself with nothing to do. He looked around the bridge of his ship casting his eyes over the repaired work stations, some of which still bore scorch marks from the various electrical fires that had broken out. He couldn’t remember which incidents had caused what damage anymore. It could have been the crash landing on the Targlagdu planet, or the plunge through the ice into the ocean world while trying to rescue Chavel, or a number of other things. He was proud of The Agathon though. She was turning out to be one tough cookie. Like Carrie.
He turned his thoughts to his little girl and wondered how she was. He wondered what Jennifer would’ve thought of their daughter. A powerful mutated Martian girl who had fought an alien robot planet and contacted the first known sentient alien civilisation. He tried to imagine his wife still alive and having to sit her down to explain all of this. He smiled to himself at how ridiculous it would sound. The comm pad attached to his chair chirped.
“Bridge here, go ahead,” he said.
“John, it’s Chase. When you are done with the test fire, can I see you in my lab if you get a chance? It’s about that matter we discussed earlier,” she said.
“Understood, bridge out,” Barrington said tapping the comm pad disconnecting the transmission.
He sat back in his chair and took another sip of coffee. Tyrell was a problem. He knew it. He didn’t have to be telepathic to understand that there was something else going on with The Black than what he was letting on. Tyrell’s influence on Carrie was something Barrington didn’t like. He trusted her judgement, but he had seen all forms of deception and this felt like something that Carrie might not be prepared for. There was something off. He knew it. The doors to the lift at the aft section of the bridge opened and Boyett entered looking fresh. He was glad Brubaker had taken the initiative to order her off duty.
“Good morning, Lieutenant,” Barrington said.
Boyett smiled at him as she passed the centre seat en route to the elevated flight control chair.
“Captain,” she said nodding.
“Take your station, Charly, and activate the fire control systems. Tosh is almost ready down there,” Barrington said.
Boyett hopped into her flight chair. She entered in her access codes and the control systems sprang to life. She looked over at Chavel and nodded in his direction.
“Ripley, take your station, let’s get ready to do this. David, have you found me something to shoot at?” Barrington asked.
Chavel looked over his board and back at Barrington.
“Yes, sir, I think so. A small asteroid at bearing 223, mark 432. It’s just over 100,000 kilometres away,” he said.
Barrington looked at Boyett.
“Charly, fire her up and take us to those coordinates,” he said to her.
“Yes, sir,” she replied.
“Chavel, deploy a probe to orbit this planet. I want to try and get as much information as we can about
it before we attempt to approach,” Barrington said.
“Probe launched, sir,” Chavel said quickly obeying the order.
Barrington wondered why he had not used the on board orbital probes before, but was quickly reminded that on each occasion that they had approached a planet they had been in a desperate situation.
“Two minutes to target, sir,” said Boyett after several minutes of calm on the bridge.
“Let’s see it, Chavel,” Barrington said.
Chavel tapped his computer console as one of the view screens overhead flickered revealing a small oblong chunk of rock. Barrington rubbed the side of his cheek as he watched the unimpressive grey collection of minerals floating idly by the view screen. He tapped his comm panel.
“Engine room, Tosh, you ready to give this a go?” he said.
“Tosh here, Captain, about as ready as we’ll ever be. The cargo bay doors are open and all personnel have been cleared. Captain, there are no guarantees with this. Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Tosh said.
“Understood. Bridge out,” Barrington said cutting off Tosh before he could object any more.
The last thing he needed was him sowing doubt in his bridge crew.
“Charly, this will be at your discretion. Get a feel for the targeting scanners and only when you are happy with the target, lock and fire at will,” Barrington said.
“Got it, sir, just give me a minute here to run through one or two last power checks,” Boyett said.
“Take your time, Charly,” replied Barrington.
He looked behind him at Kevin Ferrate who had just been released back to duty by Brubaker. He was looking well. Much better than a man who had been blown out a shuttle some weeks earlier should have looked.
“Channels still clear, Kevin?” Barrington said looking at the young man.
Ferrate looked at his boards.
“All clear, sir, no sign of any activity from anywhere within two light years,” he replied.
Barrington turned back and looked up at the image of the small asteroid.
“Okay, sir, we’re all clear on my end. I’m ready to give this a shot,” Boyett said suddenly.
