Project Columbus: Omnibus

by J. C. Rainier

  “Alright. Let’s talk about it.” Cal’s voice dropped an octave and he spoke in a hushed tone. “Let’s talk about how I’ve spent what seems like months trapped in the worst hell that you can possibly imagine. Let’s talk about how just a few minutes ago I was sucked out of a hole when the hull of Michael blew wide open. Or how about how I’ve had a thousand fights with my father. Or maybe how half the time I end up trying to make amends with him but he ends up running away from me and right into machine gun fire.”

  A look that could have been either pity or horror washed across Dr. Taylor’s face. Cal didn’t care which it was. He did not think that she could possibly fathom the situation he was in.

  “Or maybe you’d like to hear my favorite one,” he continued, “about how over and over again I beat the living shit out of the woman I love.”

  “Oh, my,” she gasped.

  “So yeah, you’ll just have to pardon me if I don’t really want to talk about it, Doctor.” He turned to face the terminal again and brought it back to life.

  He caught motion out of the corner of his eye. Cal felt the urge to flinch, but refrained from doing so. He felt Dr. Taylor wrap her thin, spotted arms around him. Her embrace did little to temper his emotions although he did appreciate the gesture. He made no eye contact with her as he continued his work.

  “Please don’t keep things bottled up. Especially not out here,” she said. He could feel her breath in his ear.

  Cal changed pages and something scrolled across the screen that made him sick. He froze for a moment.

  “Do you hear me, Calvin?” she asked.

  “Doctor, look!” He tapped his fingers emphatically on the screen.

  “Oh no!” Her hand flew to the com button on the terminal. “Dr. Taylor to bridge. Medical emergency in pod twelve. Send assistance immediately.” She clicked off the system and turned to Cal. “Begin emergency revival. Catch up with me as soon as you can.” She shot off out of the hallway as fast as an arrow.

  Cal quickly keyed the sequence to revive the passenger and initiated the amyl nitrite injector program. He stared at the screen and hoped with every second that the weak vitals would grow stronger. He had no clue what would happen in a real passenger, and the simulator never went this far. Cal felt as if his heart stopped for a moment when the pulse on the screen twitched briefly higher. He sucked in a breath and held it. Again the pulse flicked higher, and did not drop back down.

  He took that as his cue to exit the pod. He kicked off of carts and staved off structural braces as he hurried his way aft toward pod twelve. Cal’s heart raced as he approached the dimly lit maw of the sleeper pod. A sudden realization struck him; he had not checked which passenger berth was affected.

  Oh God, if it’s Alexis…

  He shuddered at the thought as he pulled his way into the first corridor. His haste was taking its toll. He huffed and sweat beaded on his brow as he rounded the corner into the crowded hallway that contained his sleeper. He could see Dr. Taylor braced against the wall and tending to what Cal assumed was the distressed passenger. He could not see who it was, as his vision was blocked by the backs of two crew members floating in front of him, whom he recognized as Hunter and Colonel Dayton.

  Oh God. Please…

  Cal heard a fit of coughing from the passenger. Relief washed over him and he took a deep breath. His head darted from side to side to get a view around Hunter. He felt something brush against his left arm, and was startled as Lieutenant Josephson moved past him. A flash of color caught the corner of his eye. He looked down and saw the black and yellow outline of a Taser strapped to her hip.

  “Deep breaths, Major,” he heard Dr. Taylor say.

  Major?

  Hunter moved to the top of the hallway to allow Josephson to pass. As he did so, Cal could see a middle aged man in a flight suit nearly doubled over. His brown hair was a tussled mess, and he clutched a pair of horn rimmed glasses in his hand. He coughed and spat for a few minutes at Dr. Taylor soothed him.

  Cal noticed that Hunter had sidled up beside him. He turned to the lieutenant. “Who is that?”

  “Major Forrest,” Hunter replied quietly. “One of your father’s alleged co-conspirators.”

  Cal looked back at Forrest. He seemed to tremble as he uncurled and looked around. He mumbled something, but Cal could not make out what was said. He was only barely able to make out Dr. Taylor’s voice as she said, “You nearly died. My assistant saw your distressed heart rate, alerted me, and revived you.”

  Colonel Dayton looked over his shoulder and saw Cal. He gave a quick nod before his eyes darted between Lieutenant Josephson and Hunter. “Ceretti, Josephson, please escort the major to the crew pod so that Doctor Taylor can treat him there.”

  “Yes, sir,” they replied in chorus. Hunter gently grabbed Forrest’s arm and righted him, and then escorted him out of the pod. Josephson followed suit with her hand resting on the grip of her weapon the whole time.

  Dr. Taylor looked at Cal and beamed. “Great catch. And you did a marvelous job of waking him up.”

  “Will he recover?” asked Dayton.

  “I will have to monitor him for a while, but I do not believe that he will suffer any permanent damage from his ordeal.”

  Michael’s commander nodded. “Thank you, Doctor Taylor. Go see to it. I want to speak with Mr. McLaughlin alone.” She bowed slightly and then took her leave using the far hallway exit. Dayton straightened his flight suit and scratched at his beard. “That was a close call. You did very well.”

  Cal shrugged. “I just did what Doctor Taylor taught me to do.”

  “Without hesitation, from what I hear. That in itself may have saved the major’s life.”

  Cal was puzzled by the merits of saving an accused man from death. “I don’t get it, sir. You’re accusing him of treason, but thanking me for saving him. Isn’t that kind of a mixed message?”

  Dayton placed a strong hand on Cal’s shoulder. “Not at all. It’s the right thing to do. Major Forrest may be accused of a capital crime, but he will have a chance to defend himself at his court martial. Had he died, it could have been seen as a premature execution. That’s not even mentioning the fact that we hope to hear his reasoning from his testimony. A lot of truth might have died with him, and you saved that as well.” His beard stretched upward with the corners of his mouth as he smiled. “Please, if there is anything I can do for you, let me know.”

  Cal nodded and then shrugged off the colonel’s hand. “I’ll think about it. In the meantime, I have work to do.”

  “Very well, Mr. McLaughlin.”

  Cal snaked his way out of pod twelve and forward through the backbone of the ship. So I’ve just delayed what’s coming for the major. I still don’t exactly see that as fair to him. He entered the pod where he and Doctor Taylor worked side by side. The hallway felt still and empty, as she was not there. Cal turned on his workstation and resumed his task. He stopped on the readout of Alexis Decker. She’s still asleep. No clue that someone just a few feet from her almost died.

  He continued his duty alone. Cal did not expect Dr. Taylor to return for this round of monitoring, based on the conversation between her and Dayton. As the minutes ticked away, he felt alone again. He had never completed a full round without the doctor working at his side. As much as Cal didn’t want to talk to anyone right now, he did wish that she was helping him. Her presence made Cal feel more at ease.

  Cal’s mind snapped back to attention. Something inside him told him that he had missed something a few screens back, so he rolled back one passenger at a time. After the fourth screen, an anomaly showed on his screen. His heart dropped.

  This one is dead.

  He activated the com. “Calvin to bridge.”

  “Bridge here, Sergeant Drisko speaking.”

  “Cameron, I… there’s…”

  “Calvin? Is something wrong?”

  “Is Colonel Dayton up there?”

  “Yes, why?”

  “Please se
nd him to pod seven, section bravo. There’s… there’s been a... one of the passengers… is dead.”

  The speaker crackled with static for a moment. Then Drisko’s voice came back, clearly dejected. “Understood. Bridge out.”

  The com system shut off as Drisko cut the connection. Cal floated in the empty hallway and stared at the passenger’s completely flat lined vitals. We’re not safe. This must be what my last dream was about. He swallowed hard. Oh God. I don’t know what would be worse, dying as the sleeper chokes you, or getting sucked out into space.

  Cal exited the pod and made his way to a sleeper pod on the opposite side of the gallery. He pulled his way into one of the sections and searched for the unit that contained the victim, which he found it just as Colonel Dayton and Captain Hartley made their way into the section.

  “Which one is it?” Dayton demanded. Cal pointed to a unit on the top row of the inboard side. “Open it, Captain.”

  Hartley put an override command into one of the terminals and the magnetic lock on the berth popped. As Colonel Dayton opened the hatch there was a stench of rotten eggs. Dayton crawled part of the way into the unit. Cal could hear the restraints of the passenger being released as Dayton grunted and cursed under his breath. Dr. Taylor arrived and placed her hand on Cal’s shoulder. A sudden feeling of worry gripped him.

  Dayton and Hartley freed the body from its tether and removed it from the unit. Cal could see he was an older, heavy set man, whose little remaining hair was completely gray. Cal could feel his heart sink. He felt tears well up, but it did not make sense to him. This man was a complete stranger, yet he felt a great sorrow for the loss.

  “He looks familiar. Check the passenger matrix, Hartley,” said Dayton.

  “No need to do that, Colonel,” Dr. Taylor stopped him. “I know who this is.” She bit her lower lip.

  Dayton looked at her with surprise. “Who is it, Doctor?”

  “Doctor Jonathan Fairweather. One of the head researchers of Project Columbus, and a dear friend,” she said as her voice cracked slightly.

  The color seemed to drain from Dayton’s cheeks. Silence blanketed the crowded hallway. Dr. Taylor drew her hands to her face and wiped her eyes. Hartley stared at the body.

  “Captain Hartley,” Dayton broke the silence.

  “Yes sir?”

  “Activate all engineering crew members.” His voice had a serious tone to it that filled Cal with dread. “Activate anyone else that has computer maintenance or programming experience. I want you to head up an investigation and find out what happened here, see if these units have failed. If they have, I want the ship torn apart stem to stern until you find and fix the problem.”

  “Yes sir.” Hartley beat a hasty retreat from the pod.

  “Doctor, I want you to start working from the crew pod for now. Josephson will be assigned to guard you in case the major tries to escape custody.” She nodded and turned to exit. Dayton focused his attention to Cal. “Mr. McLaughlin, I would be further in your debt if you would help Lieutenant Ceretti with any tasks he needs you to do during this investigation. I am granting you temporary access to the computer core.”

  “But sir,” he blurted. “One passenger has died, another almost did just a little bit ago. Shouldn’t we wake the passengers to keep them safe?”

  And by the passengers, I mean Alexis.

  Colonel Dayton’s stare hardened and his brow furrowed. “Absolutely not. We don’t want to panic them, and we certainly don’t want to put that much stress on our food supply.”

  “Then maybe…”

  Dayton put his hand up to interrupt. “The passengers aren’t in any danger. I don’t think this is a coincidence, Mr. McLaughlin.”

  “What do you mean, sir?”

  “The two men had something in common. Both were accused of conspiracy for their alleged parts in the theft of Project Columbus.”

  Cal’s jaw dropped. “Wait, so that means…”

  Dayton shrugged. “Probably. That’s why we have to investigate. There’s another reason I’m granting you more access, however. It could be that someone is targeting conspirators. That means that you’re either lucky, or whoever is doing this thinks that you’re innocent.”

  Wait, you think that I was a target too? Cal’s hands went numb and his vision started to narrow. No, pull yourself together.

  “You need to give Ceretti an order from me,” he continued. “He is to move you from your current sleeper berth to one of the spares in the crew pod. We have a few Marines on board. Have Ceretti put you in a berth next to one of them. Also have him make sure that you are still listed in your original berth, and that the new one is marked as empty and shows as offline, even when it is in use. Make sure he keeps absolutely quiet about this. If there is a suspect on board, I don’t want them to know about this.”

  Cal took a few deep breaths to calm down. “Okay. But what if Hunter is the one doing this?”

  Dayton shook his head. “I can’t guarantee anything. I chose Ceretti because he seems to like you more than anyone else on this ship. I just hope that translates into him being protective of you. Now please, go find him and get that done before half of the crew wakes up and you lose the chance.”

  “Yes sir,” Cal replied nervously as he departed for the bridge.

  For the first time in his life, Cal felt as if his life was in the hands of someone else.

  I hope you’re a true friend, Hunter. I need to rely on you now.

  1st Lt Darius Owens

  22 September 2024, 09:05

  Gabriel

  Darius felt his stomach churn and knot as he read computer code from the screen in front of him. This is terrible, he thought. If this hadn’t been routed to the null mailbox… The result was horrible enough that Darius dared not finish that thought, not even in his head.

  “Owens to bridge,” he said as he activated the com.

  “Bridge here, Airman Garza speaking.”

  “Garza, can you please have Colonel Eriksen meet me in the computer core?”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Owens out.” He switched off the com system and let out a great sigh.

  He leaned forward and rested his head in his hands. The restraints across his chest reminded him of their presence with a slight bite, but he ignored it. The torrent of white noise made by the racks of computers seemed to grow louder as Darius took a moment to close his eyes and rest.

  Darius had listened for hours to the files received by the null box. At first he was not sure what to expect, perhaps a message from one of the other sleeper ships. Most of the files contained blips and blurps of background noise from the cosmos. But then he had stumbled on to two files that were very different. Both files sounded like an old modem carrier, a sound that Darius had not heard in years. He knew at once that these were intelligent transmissions, yet they were not voice messages from the other ships.

  What he found when he compiled and opened them was chilling. Whoever sent them knew the exact weakness in the communications system to exploit. As Darius read the code, the purpose of the transmission became clear: to assassinate a passenger.

  “You requested to see me, Lieutenant?” The voice of Colonel Eriksen startled him.

  He regained his composure and turned to face the massive, square commander of Gabriel. “Yes sir. I’ve been working on a problem with the com system since last maintenance cycle. I created a null mail file to capture any incoming transmissions to the ship to make sure no accidental issues were created.”

  Eriksen’s brows perked up. “Accidental issues? What are you talking about?”

  “When I did some redundant system checks ten years ago,” he explained, “I found that our com system software had been rolled back to an earlier version. The mainframe’s firmware was damaged too and I had to rebuild that.”

  “Uh huh?” The colonel’s expression went flat and he looked at his watch.

  “Well, it’s a good thing I did, sir. Someone sent us a transmission.” He punc
hed a button on the mainframe terminal and a horrible cacophonous screech filled the computer core. Eriksen winced and brought his hands to his ears. Darius stopped the playback.

  “What the hell was that?”

  “A carrier wave, Colonel. Someone sent us a program through the com system.”

  “Are we talking aliens here or one of the other ships?” Eriksen closed the gap between the two men and looked over Darius’s shoulder.

  “It’s definitely from one of the other ships, sir. The code is written in binary. It’s extremely eloquent, too. When I compiled the files and looked at them in a sandbox, I found that not only are they written for Unix, there were none of the notation tags that you’d expect to see from a dev team to mark what sections of code do what.”

  “Sounds thrilling. Why would they do that? And why would they send it to us?”

  “Sir, I think whoever sent this meant to assassinate someone.”

  Eriksen froze. His hand gripped Darius’s shoulder. The colonel seemed to splutter for a moment before he asked, “Do you know who they intended to kill, Lieutenant?”

  Darius nodded. “Yes sir. Each file was coded with a target sleeper. I matched them against the matrix. The targets were Lieutenant Reid and Doctor Kimura.”

  “Damn.” Colonel Eriksen wrung his hands together. “I’ve seen the doctor, so I know he’s alright. Is Reid in danger?”

  “No sir. Between the null mailbox and the sandbox, these files never hit our actual mainframe.”

  “Good. Can you tell who sent them?”

  “Well,” Darius said as he sifted through another section of code. “I can’t tell who wrote this, and the authorization signature has been wiped from the file. There’s a pretty sophisticated bit in here that deleted the signature once the file was opened, even in the sandbox. It looks like whoever did this may have messed up, though.”

  “How so? Do you have something?”

  “I’m not sure yet, Colonel.” Darius tapped on the screen. “This section here looks damaged. I’ll work on finding out what it was supposed to be, but if the position within the file is correct, it’s probably the mainframe identifier. It should at least tell us which ship this came from.”