Her thoughts wandered to her own family in Sao Pablo. Her father, Carlos Boyett, had been a well-respected litigator in the city and her mother was a schoolteacher. A complication during childbirth had rendered her mother Maria unable to have any more children, so she had been a prized child with the expectations and demands that went along with it. She had enjoyed a good relationship with her parents and harboured no resentment for her strict upbringing. She had allowed herself an escape from the pressures of having to succeed, stealing out into the night with her telescope to gaze at the stars. She had enrolled in the interstellar flight academy in Washington when she was nineteen and had found her passion in the clouds behind the controls of the x43 hypersonic suborbital fighter. She had terrified a few instructors with her natural ability behind the stick and had quickly flown up the ranks. During a review the head of the academy, Major Tom Dickinson, had noted that if she could sprout wings at any time she could easily become a bird.
“It’s in your blood, cadet,” he had said with his burly low southern accent. “You’re a born flyer.” It was the highest compliment she had ever received, until the call from John Barrington several years later. Now, drifting outside the most exciting ship the human race had ever attempted to build, she couldn’t help but miss her parents.
“Choose your path wisely and give it everything you got,” her father’s voice echoed in her mind. Her mother had been less than pleased about her flight ambitions, but had supported her decisions once she had seen that her mind was immovable on the subject. Now they were gone. A tear suddenly released itself from one of her eyes, which was a bothersome inconvenience out here, as she had no way to wipe it. She took a deep breath and cleared her throat. Work to be done. She closed her eyes and tried to clear them. Focus, Charly; let’s get this puppy ready to fly. She drew her attention back to the power coupling. Although it was linked to a minor backup system, its function was also tied directly into the workings of the main environmental control on board and would pose a significant problem in hyperspace. If it even got to hyperspace. A light blipped inside her faceplate, denoting an incoming transmission.
“Boyett,” she said.
“Charly, it’s Barrington. You out and about?” came the commander’s voice. She was always in awe of his ability to sound totally in control in any given situation. His cool and authoritative tone had given her strength and focus.
“Yes, sir, just cleaning the windshields,” she said lightly.
“Status,” he said.
“I need more people, sir. I’m losing prep days here to monkey work. I need to start focusing on the on-board navigation system or this thing is gonna fly straight into a planet or into oblivion. I could use Tyrell’s assistance on the coordinate verifications at some stage today, to do a simulation. Which I can guarantee won’t be pretty, seeing the state the bridge is currently in.”
“Understood, Charly, stay calm,” the commander said. She had probably let more panic into her voice than she would have liked in front of him, but she was genuinely worried about their impossible timescale.
“I have Emerson and every engineer I can get my hands on transferring over in the next twenty-four hours from the Jycorp orbital. You should double your manpower momentarily.” Her face flushed without her realising it at the sound of Emerson’s name. The handsome Irishman had made an impression on her at an Agathon briefing a month earlier, and even more so in her bed. Ships that pass in the night.
“Thank you, sir, much appreciated.”
“No problem, Charly, we’ll get the old girl to fly, don’t you worry. I’ll get Tyrell onto you later on. I’ll be joining you in the next day or so for a site visit. I hope you don’t mind, but we should get everyone on the same page and there are some issues I need to discuss personally with the current crew on board.”
Charly didn’t like the sound of that. She had suspected that there would not be enough space to accommodate everyone and figured there would be some sort of announcement to that effect sooner rather than later.
“Looking forward to it, sir. I’ll have some coffee ready for you upon arrival,” she said. Barrington laughed.
“Appreciated, Barrington out.”
The comms winked out and Charly was left alone again in the dark. She rummaged through a tangled web of fibre connections and found the coupling seal. With her laser welder in hand, she got to work.
Jycorp Orbital Station
15:22 Martian Standard
“Docking clamps engaged,” said the airlock operator, a middle-aged man who worked on one of Emerson’s engineering teams. “Engaging umbilicus,” he said.
A corridor began to extend to the docked vessel. Young and Tosh waited at the entrance to the station’s docking port. Tosh looked up at Young. While his chair enabled him to move with relative ease, he was still restricted to the height he could hover at and normally had to look up to those standing. Young made note of Tosh’s well-pressed attire, together with a crisp white shirt.
“Who are you trying to impress? Me or her?” he asked jokingly.
“Shut up. Is that cologne?” Tosh retorted. Young replied with a friendly smirk. It seemed surreal to Young that the two men had made an effort to smarten up. They now lived in a universe with no Earth. They were refugees clinging on to social norms to keep the mind from cracking. The lights on the entrance to the airlock flickered to green. The circular door hissed and rolled back. The chancellor stood facing the two men. Her chief of staff and two large security personnel flanked her. One of them was much bigger than the other. Both wore the familiar locked expression Young knew all too well. There was a deathly silence. Tosh broke the tension by clearing his throat and began to speak when Young interrupted him. It was his place to speak first and he took the hint from his friend.
“Chancellor Clark, I am relieved to see you. Welcome aboard,” he said. The chancellor’s expression softened but he knew she was angry.
“Permission to come aboard, Mr. Young,” she finally said. Young could not get a handle on her.
“Granted,” Young said. “If you would like to follow me, I will see you to your quarters.” She nodded and the new arrivals made their way onto the station. They made their way through the uniform corridors of the Jycorp Orbital platform. The halls were lined with sealed doors and personnel scurrying about, each carrying various pieces of equipment and pushing carts full of supplies. As they passed they stopped and stared at the travelling entourage. The shock of seeing the supreme chancellor walking the halls was clearly new for most. Young knew she had to hold her confident stride through the stares. She wore a formal suit with a small pin depicting the flag of the planetary allegiance pinned to her lapel. He was always impressed at how well she handled herself in the public eye. Hushed awes and quiet whispering followed them when they strode.
“It’s her,” came the voice of a female dressed in overalls, talking to a colleague. The chancellor’s group reached a large lift and waited for its arrival. Young turned to Tosh.
“Daniel, please take the chancellor’s aides to their quarters. The chancellor and I have a lot to discuss in my office.” Tosh looked surprised.
“Of course, Jerome.”
“With your permission of course, Chancellor?” She nodded. Ryder and Kane both looked in the chancellor’s direction.
“Gentlemen, get some rest. I will call upon you later,” she said. Tosh took the party down an adjoining corridor and Young and Clark entered the lift. They waited quietly for the doors to close and then the chancellor turned to Young. With a swift motion, she slapped him firmly on the cheek. He remained silent as the sharp sting lingered. She turned back to face the lift’s doors and they continued their journey. Young turned, facing the same direction. They waited quietly, listening to the hum of the lift as it ascended.
“My assistant was only twenty-two years old,” she said. “We could have saved her.” Young did not
know who she was referring to but accepted her anger.
“I am sorry, Sienna,” he said. He felt anything more was inappropriate. The mood lifted somewhat as they reached the doors of his office. They moved through the office and both took a seat, Young sitting at the head of his desk which had the effect of letting Clark know who was in charge of the situation. Got that out of your system? he thought. She spoke first.
“What is it you want me to do now, Jerome?” she said. Young rose from his chair and poured single malt into the two glasses that sat on a nearby counter.
“Make mine a double,” she said. He nodded. The chancellor looked around the loosely decorated room. There were photos scattered around the wall, one with Young at the peak of a mountain and another in a pressure suit outside an orbital array with the backdrop of the Earth below. A holographic rendering of the Monolith sat on one corner of his desk. It rotated slowly, giving a full three-sixty of the mirror-like structure. There were several doors leading out of the room into several corridors and rooms. The clear wall behind his desk gave a breath-taking view of the Martian surface. Digital schematics of the Monolith were overlaid on one corner of the window. He handed the glass to the seated chancellor and retook his seat. He sipped the drink and allowed it to warm his insides.
“I need you to do what you do best.” He looked her deeply in her eyes. She really was beautiful.
“I need you to lead.”
6
Weapons training facility
Mars Colony One
Time since evacuation- 46 Day
17:15 Martian Standard
Carrie fired her baryon pulse gun and blew the target into a million tiny bits. It was an elegant and subtle weapon that fitted into the palm of her hand. While she had been commissioned an active weapon less than twelve months previously, she had practically been born with it in her hand. The training device she had learned to shoot with was an exact replica of the real thing, but the energy beam had been a simple adaptation of old laser technology. She had come to the firing chamber alone, just shortly after sunrise, to clear her head.
Her dreams of late had been disturbing. Every night it was the same thing.
She stands at the precipice of a nearby canyon. She breathes in fresh air without the need of an atmo suit. She stares up at the sky at an approaching object. The dark mass begins to fill the sky and a crawling shadow creeps along the walls of the canyon. The sun vanishes and the winds pick up. The atmosphere burns away and the stars replace the clouds. The rock is the size of a small moon and fills the empty sky. She looks around to find herself alone again. No colony. No help. A thousand fireballs descend through the sky and explode in the ground. Hell on Earth. The sound of a growling animal approaching from behind her makes her turn. She is faced with a black figure, faceless and with no particular shape. The Black! The growling stops and the figure takes another form. She can’t make out the features but the shape of the figure is so familiar to her. It speaks to her in a distorted and animal-like voice.
“I am going to kill you, Carrie. I am going to kill everyone. Silly little insects.” The storm of fire continues all around as the dark mass from above hits the atmosphere. The smell of sulphur and burning flesh fills her senses and she begins to cough as her eyes start to fill with smoke and poison. The noise is deafening and she screams as she drops to her knees, and that is when she wakes up screaming.
She tapped a command into the wall pad of the firing range and the target was replaced with another. Soft round balls filled with fluid were deposited on a standing metal column. Each column was placed at various distances down the range and could be adjusted at will with a few commands. A target was placed at three hundred meters and she took aim. She cleared her lungs of air, raised her weapon in a swift and practiced fashion, then fired with fluidity and confidence. She left the target little chance. It exploded without hesitation and she drew a satisfied breath.
“Nice shooting, Tex,” said David Chavel, who had just entered without her knowing. How did that happen? she thought. Get control of your mind, Dice.
“Hello, Lieutenant. I didn’t see you there.” She fumbled with her gun’s safety settings and placed it in lock mode. He was standing with his shoulder leaning on the edge of her segmented lane section and had his legs casually crossed. He wore a friendly half-cocked smile and the confident glint that seemed the required uniform for flight jockeys. Come to play, have we?
“Come here often?” he said playfully. That brought a genuine laugh. She enjoyed it. Not many people laughing these days.
“That the best you got?” she rebuffed.
“Not at all, but it’s five-thirty in the morning... Can’t sleep?” he asked. She just shook her head and glanced back at the remnants of her shooting.
“Do you mind if I join you? I need to get in a little trigger time myself. By the sounds of things I think we’re gonna need it.”
“Not at all, Lieutenant, please be my guest.” She gestured to the lane and gave way. He nodded in appreciation and stepped past her. His closeness as he passed was no accident, but she didn’t complain. He was in good shape and he knew it, and what little physical contact she could get to take her mind off her mind was okay with her.
He tapped a command into the pad and set a target for three hundred and fifty meters. He always wore a sidearm on a thick black belt that hung low over his left thigh. It was a much larger version of Carrie’s weapon. Size matters to men no matter what planet you’re on, Carrie thought. He moved his legs apart and adapted a steady stride position. She couldn’t help her eyes momentarily flickering to his posterior. Definitely in good shape. He drew his weapon and held it. He had a clumsy draw motion, Carrie noticed, but held it with confidence. She watched his eyes as he focused intently. He hadn’t shaved for a few days and the dark stubble that lined his cheeks gave a light definition to his jawline. She imagined their faces close and combing her fingers across it. He smiled slightly, noticing her glances. Shit. She looked back at the target. He fired and missed. Lowering his weapon, she could tell he was embarrassed. Emasculated by the water ball.
“Sights must be off,” he grumbled, frowning. He fired again and missed.
“Would you like to try mine?” she said playfully. He looked at her weapon and blew out a light laugh.
“Not at all, give me a second here.” He tapped something into the side control panel of his gun and aimed again. He fired and missed. He lowered his weapon and scratched his eyebrows. He frowned at the target, raised his weapon and flicked a switch. The weapon opened fire with continual pulses at close to twenty rounds a second. When the dust cleared, neither the target nor the column it was standing on were anywhere to be seen. He gave a satisfactory smile and looked back at Carrie who laughed. He gave her a shrug and holstered his gun.
“Can I buy you breakfast? I know a great place.” He extended his elbow. She took it and they walked out of the range. Carrie felt calm and protected in his presence. It brought her the peace the firing range hadn’t delivered on this morning. As they entered the airlock and walked towards the main galley, she looked out over the red horizon as the sun broke its chains and split the surface of the planet in two. What a beautiful morning. She glanced up at the sky. Both of them knew what was coming. She looked back at the lieutenant and thought about having pancakes.
Twenty minutes later, they were in orbit. His shuttle pod was a sleek little ship with room for six passengers. With smooth lines and darkened windows it cut through the thin atmosphere like a dolphin in smooth waters. Chavel had nicknamed her The Jenny and stencilled a voluptuous female on the outside of the cockpit.
“It’s what they used to do in World War II,” he had exclaimed as they boarded. The view from orbit encompassed the entire red planet. The Atmo processors could clearly be seen pumping out gases in the northern and southern hemispheres. They were gargantuan grey structures with symmetrical cubed edg
es and miles of enormous cable spreading out in all directions.
“Your father has ordered they be shut down in the next seventy-two hours,” he told Carrie. “Not much use for them now and any impact will set off a thermonuclear explosion.” He paused for thought. “Again, not that that matters much anymore.” He flew around the far side of the planet and placed the shuttle in equatorial orbit. With the engines off, the shuttle glided peacefully over the surface. Carrie stared out of her viewport at the mountains and enormous valleys. The ancient riverbeds slid all over its surface. A scar of a world battered by time and soon to be devoured by its sister.
“It’s beautiful up here,” said the lieutenant, turning to Carrie. Easy, tiger. Simple female instincts told Carrie all she needed to know about what the young man was thinking.
“It is, Lieutenant.”
“Your father calls me Lieutenant. You can call me David. We’ve known each other long enough to drop protocol, Carrie. No?” Carrie smiled and allowed him his first move.
“Okay, David. I presume you told my father you were kidnapping me for the afternoon?” He smiled.
“I have a confession to make. I did not.”
Carrie nodded. “Brave AND stupid,” she said jokingly.
“Guilty as charged,” he said. There was raw bravery in the man, even if he didn’t know it yet. Controlled recklessness, if there was such a thing. He had a devotion to duty but there was pain in his soul. A scar still hidden from her.
“Want to see the old girl?” Carrie cocked her head, questioning as Chavel changed course. From the surface of the planet, the small ship could be seen as a light dot on a background of stationary stars. She wondered, was there anyone looking up? There was. Chavel changed course with dexterity. The smooth realigning of the shuttle to her new course took seconds. Carrie had to admit to being impressed by how fluidly he handled the controls. She could tell he was showing off, but he did it with confidence and finesse. A familiar disk-shaped object came into the view port.
The Agathon: Book One Page 10
