LeGault was silent for a considerable time after that.
Hamilton didn’t rush him. He sensed the story wasn’t finished yet.
LeGault cleared his throat and continued. “Walsh recovered completely during the trip back. By that I mean that his wounds healed sufficiently to allow him to move around. He couldn’t have been as injured as I’d thought. Lewis came out of her catatonic state, but was completely crazy, like she is now. She couldn’t remember what had happened and neither could Walsh. All they remembered were the explosions.
“Finally, we reached our starting point. We were, of course, debriefed. After that, the three of us were separated, sent to various institutes for evaluation. At least, that was what happened to me. We were finally re-united some months ago, preparatory for this trip. I was surprised to see Mr Vogerian taking a personal part in things. He’d always been the ‘unseen benefactor’ type. He explained that a follow up team had discovered various wonders aboard the vessel and that a ship was being built with the knowledge gained. He then explained all the stuff that I’m sure you already know. I joined up, of course. No one in their right mind would refuse such an offer. Also, I wanted to see my companions again. I wish I’d said no, now.
“Lewis, of course, you know about. I don’t know what happened in that engine room, but it drove her over the edge. I was told not to bother her about it as it sent her into a frenzy.
“Walsh too, was changed. He had become silent and aloof. We had been passable friends before, but now he barely acknowledges my presence. Vogerian told me that his evaluation showed that his loss of blood, which had been considerable, had resulted, somehow, in minor brain damage. I didn’t understand it, myself, but I accepted it. It explains his attitude, anyway.
“I was also apprised of the cause of Knowles death. It was a combination of extreme burning and explosive concussion. I had guessed that already.
“All this was bad enough, but I could have overcome it, come to terms with it, accepted it. I could have survived, gone on with my life, if it hadn’t been for those damn dreams!
“They started soon after I rescued Lewis and Walsh from the Humal ship but stopped for a while once I was separated from them. Then they restarted after I was re-united with them. I guess it’s seeing them every day that does it, causes me to remember that day. I hate those dreams. I wake up totally drained of energy, lifeless. It wouldn’t be so bad if the dreams varied but they’re all the same. Every night so far, all identical.”
“What form do they take?” Hamilton asked, suspicious.
“I suppose it’s partly due to the terrifying flight I made in the launch. I guess that accounts for the flying aspect, at least.
“You see, I’m flying through that planet’s atmosphere, but I’m miles above the ground. I’m all alone and I don’t have the launch. I’m falling, I suppose, rather than flying, but there is no sensation of gravity. All around me the sky is red. I fall, or fly, for some time before I sense it.”
“Sense what?” Hamilton asked. He was rapidly getting worried by this unnaturally coincidental turn of events.
“I don’t know,” LeGault replied, shaking his head. “It’s something horrible, though. Horrible, and evil. I turn this way and that, but it’s always behind me. I can never see it. I’m not sure I want to. I struggle to get away from it, diving and accelerating, but it gains inexorably. I panic. I always do. It gets closer and closer, ever nearer.
“And then I wake, sweating, bedclothes soaked with sweat. I’m always totally drained, as if I truly had been fleeing for my life. I slowly drift off to sleep again and, this time, I do not dream.”
Hamilton had listened silently to the monologue, taking it in and analyzing it carefully. The significance of the dream was apparent. It was understandable to expect LeGault to have the dream. He’d been there, after all. But it was totally unreasonable to believe that two unrelated people, namely himself and Johnson, should also have experienced the same dream. Not only that, but they had experienced it jointly. Hamilton considered the likelihood that they had a high order telepath aboard as remote. It was too ridiculous. No one could have had such talent and kept it secret up to now. The situation was simplified, however, by the fact that LeGault had had the nightmares before joining the mission, after the discovery of the Humal ship. If anyone was a telepath, it would have to be one of LeGault’s companions, Lewis or Walsh. Perhaps, he mused, the incident aboard the Humal ship had triggered latent telepathic talents in one of them. After all, hadn’t LeGault said that Walsh had suffered minor brain damage? Perhaps that had unleashed latent powers? Perhaps, he thought suddenly, it was LeGault himself who was the telepath, having the nightmare as a result of his experiences and sending it out for others to endure. But what, he wondered, was the evil presence? He shook his head and sighed. It was still too murky to make much sense of.
LeGault’s eyes were beginning to close. The alcohol was a very potent brew. Hamilton had wanted to loosen his tongue quickly and the drink, coupled with his excessive workout, had taken its toll.
“We’d better get you back to your cabin.” Hamilton said.
“Yeah,” LeGault agreed. “I better lie down for a while. I won’t sleep, though.”
“That’s up to you.” Hamilton said. He got up and helped LeGault to his room. It wasn’t that LeGault was drunk, just that his muscles had stiffened up during his time spent sat down. He was walking quite well by the time they reached his cabin. Hamilton saw him safely inside and then checked his watch. He had about three hours before his next shift. He decided to get some sleep himself and set off for his cabin.
Sleep, though, was a long time coming.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The second week of their hyperspace journey proceeded without further incident. Lewis was let out of her cabin after a further two days. She promised not to cause any more trouble through clenched teeth. She was not allowed her pistol back.
Hamilton shared his information on LeGault with the other two. They agreed that something was very definitely not ordinary about what was going on but had no ideas as to what was happening. At the start they had seemed sure that it was a simple case of Vogerian trying to rip everybody off. It seemed natural that he’d have accomplices and they’d spent the time up to now trying to discover who was in on it with him. The dreams, or sendings, added another dimension to the plot. They agreed to step up their efforts to uncover fresh information.
Jones began, late at night, to measure the ship’s internal dimensions with a laser range-finding device. He estimated that it would take him several nights to complete the work, but they should have a better idea of locations for potential hidden areas afterwards.
Klane and Hamilton stepped up their efforts at extracting information via trickery and friendliness.
All went well during the early part of the third week of their journey. Jones had finished his measurements and was drawing up a plan of the ship’s interior.
Hamilton and Klane sat in the security room, discussing tactics. Abruptly, a light began flashing on the console, accompanied by a strident warning beeping. Klane, who was monitoring things, checked it.
“There’s a fire in the cargo area!” she reported, pushing buttons. Hamilton moved around to look over her shoulder. There were, of course, no cameras in the hold so there was little to see.
“Use the sprinklers.” he advised.
“I am!” She scowled. “The fire’s still going on, though. Must be a malfunction, or too large for them to handle.”
“The cargo deck’s full of ordnance for the weaponry,” Hamilton stated, concerned. “If it goes up we could lose the entire deck, not to mention the hangars underneath!”
“What do you suggest?” she asked, punching buttons.
“Sound a general alarm. I’ll head up there and see what the state of things is. Close down the air circulation system to it.”
“Got you.” she agreed, pressing a large red button. A loud klaxon began to sound throughout th
e ship.
Hamilton ran out of the security room and headed for the hangar area. It was late at night and no people were about, though the alarm would soon change that.
He reached the elevator that led up to the cargo deck. The doors refused to open. He punched the panel ineffectively.
“Klane!” he yelled into his headset. “The elevator refuses to work. Can you override it?”
“I’ll try.” she replied. “I’m also sending people up with portable extinguishers.”
“Good idea!” he affirmed. “Now fix the elevator, quick!” Hamilton waited patiently. Running footsteps could be heard from down the corridor, along with shouts and excited voices. The elevator door opened suddenly, before anybody was in sight. Hamilton jumped in and pressed the up button. The doors closed slowly, too slowly for Hamilton. The lift began to rise.
“Oh Christ!” Klane’s voice sounded. “Now there’s a fire on the bridge!”
“What!” Hamilton exclaimed.
“Shit, the monitors have packed in down there. Don’t panic! I’m on it.”
“No! Wait!” Hamilton said. “Don’t leave…”
The elevator stopped abruptly, causing Hamilton to stagger. “Klane!” he called. “Don’t leave the console unmanned.”
There was no answer.
“Klane!” Hamilton repeated. “Do you hear me?”
Silence was his only answer.
“Jones! Jones, can you hear me?”
Again, there was no answer.
Hamilton cursed. Things were taking a rapid downward turn. He looked about but failed to see anything that could help him in his current predicament. There wasn’t even an access hatch in the elevator roof. He could do nothing but wait.
The elevator began rising again after some minutes. Hamilton prepared himself for a raging inferno when the doors opened, hand poised over the down button.
The elevator stopped at the cargo deck and the doors opened silently.
On to silence.
Hamilton stared about in confusion. All the crates were there, exactly as they were the last time he had been there. All the containers were covered in the foamy, fire-retardant spray that had fallen from the now inactive sprinklers.
Hamilton entered the area and rapidly looked around, clearing the foam off some of the crates and floor.
There was no sign of any fire damage.
The elevator doors closed and the mechanism whirred into life as the cage descended.
“Hamilton! Hamilton, are you alright?” Klane’s voice crackled over his headset.
“Klane! Where the hell have you been?”
“There was a fire on the bridge. The monitors had failed so I went down to check. I couldn’t get through to you before now. Something was interfering with the headsets.”
“Why did you leave the security room?”
“Everyone else had headed up to your location. There was no one else to send. The fire-fighting systems appeared to have failed. What else was I supposed to do?”
“OK, OK. Where are you now?”
Her voice was full of confusion. “I’m on the bridge. Everywhere’s covered in foam, so the sprinklers are obviously alright. I can’t find any sign of a fire, though.”
“Me neither.” Hamilton agreed. “It looks like we were tricked. Get back to security, quick!”
“Roger.” she agreed. “I’m on my way.”
Hamilton stared around in irritation. He hated to be tricked.
“Hamilton?” It was Jones’ voice.
“Yeah, what is it.”
“I’m down on the ramp leading from the engineering corridor to the mess area. I’ve discovered something unusual.”
“What do you mean?” Hamilton said, shortly. He was getting tired of playing games.
“It’s some kind of electronic device, hidden amongst the power conduits. I’m no expert, but I think it could be a bomb.”
“Shit!” Hamilton exclaimed.
The elevator had risen during the conversation and the doors now opened to admit several crewmembers.
“I’m on my way down. Seal off the ramp as best you can.” Hamilton told Jones. “And don’t touch it!”
“Do you think I’m crazy?” Jones replied.
Hamilton faced the newly arrived crew. “You guys spread out and see if you can find any fire damage.”
“What if we do?” McDonald inquired.
“Tell me about it.”
They moved out through the cargo deck. Hamilton entered the elevator and descended. He made his way swiftly to the ramp Jones had indicated.
The black man was at the top of the ramp. He met Hamilton nervously.
“It’s about halfway down the ramp. Looks as if someone tried to conceal it behind a panel but were disturbed half-way through.”
“OK. Let’s take a look.”
The pair descended the ramp. Jones showed Hamilton where a panel had been partly reaffixed to the corridor wall. He slid it aside gently.
A small box had been attached to a power conduit behind it. The box front had a numeric keypad on it and a digital display. The display showed a sequence of unchanging numbers.
“Is it a bomb?” Hamilton asked.
Jones shrugged. “You’d be more likely to know than I would. I’m security, remember, not demolitions.”
“Hmmm, I’d need a look inside.”
“I’ll get you a screwdriver.” Jones remarked, drily.
“There aren’t any screws.” Hamilton retorted. “It must be a clip together box.”
“So how do we, I mean you, get it open?”
Hamilton ran his fingers over the box and tapped the casing experimentally with a nail. “Go and find me a soldering iron.”
“A soldering iron?” Jones was puzzled.
“Sure. I’ll melt the casing. It’s plastic.”
“OK.” Jones had to admit it sounded reasonable. He turned to leave.
“Oh, and I’ll need a fibre-optic probe as well.” Hamilton added.
Jones looked back. “OK.” he said, turning to leave again.
“And a general toolkit with precision instruments.”
“OK. OK. Anything else?” Jones said, exasperated.
“No, that should do for now. I can always send you for other things as they become necessary.”
Jones scowled and ran off.
Hamilton regarded the device cautiously. He couldn’t see any purpose in planting a bomb aboard the ship. What could it achieve? On the other hand, he realised, a power failure during hyperspace transit could be disastrous if the fields failed. The ship would be destroyed immediately in such circumstances. But why would anyone destroy the ship? He saw no reason for it. They would be destroyed as well. Only Lewis would be crazy enough to try something like that and Hamilton doubted she had the knowledge to build and place a bomb for effect. Which left only one possibility. The bomb was not a bomb, but a fake. Or it served some other purpose. Hamilton shook his head. No, it couldn’t be a bomb. But if it was a fake, what purpose did it serve?
“Klane,” he called into his headset. “What’s going on?”
There was a pause before she replied. “Nothing much. People are wandering about in small groups, talking mostly, looking worried. Do you want me to tell them to go someplace?”
Hamilton considered it. “Yeah, get them to go to science lab two. That includes the ones on the cargo deck. I want everyone accounted for and in one place. Get back to me if you find anyone missing. I want Vogerian and Carl there, too.”
“OK.” she agreed. Seconds later her voice sounded over the ship PA system, ordering everyone to the lab.
Jones appeared shortly thereafter, toting the equipment Hamilton had requested.
Hamilton picked up the soldering iron and flicked it on. The tip became hot almost immediately.
“Do you want me to stay and help?” Jones asked.
“No,” Hamilton answered. “I think I’ll manage. Go up to science lab two and keep everyone calm.”
/> “OK, yell if you need anything.”
Jones left, leaving Hamilton alone with the device. Once again, he wondered at its purpose. Only one way to find out, he reasoned, leaning forward with the soldering iron. He made a small hole in one side, just large enough to admit the probe.
Putting the iron down, he used the probe to look inside the device. It was filled with electronics, but Hamilton could see no sign of any explosives. Numerous wires led out of the back of the box. Hamilton slipped the probe behind the box and found that the wires were joined to others that had been teased out of the power conduit. He scowled at the thing.
It was clearly not a bomb, but some kind of control or monitoring device. Hamilton wondered what it controlled. He was getting extremely tired of the cat-and-mouse game going on around here.
He used the probe to discover how the box was sealed and then carefully pried the front cover off it. The interior was now revealed to easy view.
Hamilton was at a loss as to where to start snipping, so he chose a wire at random, after making a further check for small explosive packages. The wire was cut easily. Nothing happened. Hamilton continued to cut the wires, pausing after each one to note any effects.
“Hamilton,” Klane said. “I’ve lost the bridge monitors again.”
“Don’t worry about it.” he told her.
Hamilton cut the last wire and then removed the box from the conduit. There were no noticeable effects.
Hamilton regarded the conduit. The insulation had been cut away and several wires pulled clear and cut in half. They had then been wired into the device Hamilton now held. The device still displayed its unchanging digital readout. He considered reconnecting the wires but decided that an engineer could do it. There didn’t seem to be any ill effects from having the wires disconnected, so it was best left to an expert to repair. Hamilton was fairly certain the wires controlled such things as the security monitors to the bridge and the fire-fighting equipment status lights.
Hamilton stood up, box in hand, glad that things were finally over.
A gunshot rang out, muted by distance.
Hamilton started running, not entirely certain where it had come from. He dropped the box which clattered loudly down the ramp. “Klane! What the Hell is going on!”
Humal Sequence 1: A Breath of Hope Page 17
