“Sixteen minutes to impact, sir,” said Chavel. “Remaining vessels and stations now out of range.”
“Barrington to Emerson,” he said, tapping the comm panel attached to his chair.
“Emerson here.”
“If we’re gonna do this, Mr Emerson, now would be the time.”
“Just running one last check on the plasma regulators, sir. Two minutes. FTL ring is deployed and appears to be responding,” he replied.
“Understood. Keep me informed.” Young had been strangely silent since the last communiqué with the Jycorp Orbital. They had not had much time to talk since he and Tosh came aboard and Barrington was uncomfortable with his presence on the bridge.
“Doctor Tosh, I suggest disengaging your chair from its hover mode when we engage the FTL. We don’t know if this is going to be a smooth ride or not, and I would rather not have you flying straight through the bulkhead and possibly taking my crew members with you.” His remarks directed at doe-eyed Tosh were quickly obeyed, as he nodded and engaged the manual transportation struts which secured him firmly to the deck plating.
“Of course, my apologies, Captain,” Tosh said.
“Charly, engage the inertial dampeners,” Barrington said.
“Gentlemen, if you wouldn’t mind taking a seat,” the captain added, turning to Young. The Jycorp CEO took a seat.
“Target coordinates set, sir,” said Boyett, who seemed to be frantically pressing every button in front of her. Both sides of her flight controls held manual handgrips that controlled the port and starboard thrusters. Flying the ship through hyperspace needed very little actual piloting skills, as the vectors were locked into the computer, but what they didn’t know was what would hit them at the exit. She had been preparing for the worst, with weeks in simulated asteroid and projectile evasion.
“Eleven minutes, sir,” she said from the con. Nothing to do but wait for Emerson’s go.
“Patch me in to the feed on Phobos, will you, David? Put it through on screen six.”
“Yes, sir,” came Chavel’s voice. The screen to the far right of the bridge changed its view to the surface of Phobos.
“Fuck, look at that,” said Tosh suddenly. The screen showed the surface of the small moon. Exploding surface impacts erupted from all around.
“Where’s the Monolith?” said Young. The base beside the Monolith was a raging inferno, but the structure itself was nowhere to be seen.
“Impact crater?” suggested Tosh. The view from the imaging system began to shake and distort, as the impacts grew in their intensity.
“Losing the signal, sir,” said Chavel. The screen flickered to black as the monitors around it showed the exterior happenings of the small moon. Or rather what was left of the small moon. It was practically torn in half by the unstoppable force of the bombardment.
“This is the captain,” Barrington announced on the open comm system he had just opened. “All hands general quarters. We are about to make our FTL attempt. You may feel some disorientation during the procedure. If you are experiencing any prolonged effects, please contact Doctor Brubaker. I will contact you all again as soon as we are in hyperspace. Good luck to us all. Barrington out.” The bridge fell silent. The comms chirped.
“Bridge, this is Emerson. Target coordinates received and locked. Firing up FTL ring. Stand by.” A familiar shudder crept through the bridge as high-pitched screeches of metal grinding against metal filled their ears.
“Viewer forward,” Barrington said. The screens all flicked forward. “Leave me an image of Mars, Lieutenant, on the monitor five.”
“Sir,” Chavel said in acknowledgement. The forward view showed the curved surface of the outside of the ship. The FLT ring swung past the viewer slowly, in and out of view, as it circled the vessel. It completed a rotation every second but was now beginning to pick up speed. Barrington tapped his private comm channel and hooked in an earpiece.
“Barrington to Carrie Barrington,” he said softly, watching the large ring as it blinked past his view screen. To his right an apocalyptic scene was unfolding as the Earth fragment began making contact with the thin Martian atmosphere.
“Carrie here,” came her voice.
“You strapped in, Dice?”
“Yes, Captain, I’m in my quarters. Everything seems to be shaking.”
“That will pass once we break through. Sit tight and don’t go anywhere,” he said.
“Don’t worry, Father, this will work. See you on the other side.” Barrington smiled.
“Carrie out.”
“Thirty percent,” said Boyett, who was busy checking her flight controls.
“Hull integrity?” said Barrington.
“One hundred percent,” said Boyett. He looked over at Young, whose eyes were fixed on the screen showing Mars. They turned their attention to the changing landscape of their attempted second Earth. The atmosphere was ablaze with fire. Huge fissures began to open as the fragment slammed through the crust, sending violent shockwaves through its dry and desolate landscapes. There was no sign of the colony or the Atmo processors. Barrington couldn’t help but feel a sudden sense of urgency. He focused his attention forward. The FTL ring was now steadily moving past the view screen, making a full rotation roughly six times a second, blurring the white and metallic look of the ring into a fusion of one colour. The star field had begun to fade.
“Bridge, this is Emerson. We are at fifty-eight percent. Opening the injectors now. Plasma flow looks good. Contact again at ninety percent.”
“Flight, how we looking?” he said to Boyett.
“Gravitational readings inside the parameter of the ship are normal. Readings from outside the ring are starting to shift.” Barrington looked over at the image of Mars, which had started to warp in the viewer. Chunks of the planet were now spewing out in all directions. There was a sudden burst of energy from somewhere deep within the ship and the sound of the spinning FTL ring shot up in frequency. The forward viewer was now a blur of white. The bridge was a deathly silent place. Only status reports from Boyett and Chavel interrupted the eerie quiet. The view began to change colour. Dark blue waves of distortion began to permeate through the white.
“Ninety percent, sir,” came Emerson’s voice over the comm. “It’s not too late to abort, but once we’re past ninety-two percent we are committed.” Barrington looked around at his crew and then to Young, who nodded the go ahead.
“Unlock the injectors to full, Mr Emerson. Let’s do what we came here to do.”
“Yes, sir,” Emerson said. Barrington thought he heard a tinge of excitement in the Irishman’s voice. What happened next happened quickly. The image of the broken Mars flickered off the screen as it went blank. The distortion on the forward viewer seemed to break into a million streaming lines of colours. For an instant Barrington thought he observed the crew on the bridge freezing in place. Somewhere off in the distance came a voice that sounded like Emerson, but was much lower and much slower.
“Ninety-nine percent,” it seemed to take an age to say. He glanced down at his hands, which seemed to have a silver lining to them. Every detail of the bridge seemed to be heightened. Everything seemed to glow. He felt a sudden surge in pressure, as if he were on an old rollercoaster at the top of a peak and headed down. The feeling took him by surprise and slightly knocked the wind out of him. He tensed up as the feeling subsided. The viewer in front showed a mixture of greys. The stars were now completely gone. There was an explosion of sound within the walls of the ship, like the cracking of a huge whip. Then silence. Normality had returned to the bridge. Boyett and Chavel looked at each other.
“Report,” said Barrington.
“Eh. Standby, sir, just taking readings,” said Boyett.
“Barrington to engine room.”
“Emerson here, we’re still in once piece, sir. We are still verifying readings down here,
but gravitational readings suggest we have been successful. Have you seen the images from outside the ship?”
“I want a more detailed report when you have it, Mr Emerson.”
“Eh yes, sir. Give me few minutes. Emerson out.”
“Charly?” Barrington said.
“Velocity is zero, sir. Which is what we expect from being inside a warping singularity, but I would agree that it seems to have worked. This is FTL, sir.” Barrington looked at Tosh, who had a terrified expression on his face.
“You okay?” he asked
“Eh yes, sorry, that wasn’t what I was expecting, that’s all. I think I need to lie down. With your permission I would like to leave the bridge.”
“Of course, why don’t you see Doctor Brubaker?” Tosh looked ashen-faced.
“Yes, I think I’ll do just that.” He rolled towards the back of the bridge and entered the lift. Barrington faced the forward viewer then caught sight on the empty screen on the right.
“Change screen five to forward view, David.”
“Yes, sir,” he replied softly.
“What is the status of the beacon from the Jycorp Orbital?”
“Undetectable at the moment, sir. I don’t think we’ll catch it until we return to normal space, sir,” said Chavel. The captain didn’t like that.
“Any idea if we are on the right heading, Lieutenant?”
“All systems show normal, sir. The target coordinates were locked and it all looks okay this end.” He looked at the viewer and the hazy greys of hyperspace. Not the most exciting thing he thought he would see in a gravitational distortion, but at least they weren’t dead.
Engine Room
Eight hours since departure
12:00 Martian Standard
“Excuse me, can I help you?” said Emerson to the person behind the main stellar cartography array. Eight hours later and not much had changed on board the ship. It had been smooth sailing so far, but Emerson had not left the engineering bay since the jump. He had been taking readings from The Betty when he heard something fall on the other side of the bay. The figure stood up and stared at Emerson.
“I’m sorry, Doctor Tyrell, I didn’t see you come in. Is there something I can help you with?” Emerson had only met the doctor once upon boarding and it was only a brief conversation about his quarantine seals in the lab. Emerson had noted that the doctor was cold and not particularly friendly. He looked at Tyrell, puzzled at what he was doing behind the navigational systems.
“Nothing at all, Mr Emerson, I...” Tyrell paused and looked at his hands. “need a de-coupler for my computer systems. One of the CPUs is out of alignment. I was trying to do an analysis of the surrounding star systems to Aristaeus and I didn’t want to disturb you.” Emerson noted that the doctor’s eyes were sharp and quite intense to look into. He didn’t fancy reprimanding him, so tried a polite approach.
“Of course, anything I can do to help. I can send someone up to you right away.”
Tyrell raised a hand. “Not at all, I have what I came for.” Emerson frowned.
“Of course, Doctor. I’m afraid that I have to ask you to clear equipment with me before removing it. I don’t mean to be a stickler here, but this is a delicate journey we’re on and the captain was pretty clear on procedures for personnel entering engineering. I hope you understand.” Tyrell smiled a large smile at Emerson. An almost patronising smile, and began to walk towards him. He placed a hand on Emerson’s shoulder.
“That makes perfect sense,” he said, still smiling. “The captain is very lucky to have you here, Mr Emerson. As are we all. I humbly apologise for not announcing my presence and will endeavour not to do so again.” Tyrell’s grip on Emerson’s shoulder was a little tighter than it needed to be. He tried not to wince as Tyrell released his grip and made his way out of the bay. Emerson watched him go. As he was leaving he gave Emerson a little wave as if to say, ‘Ta...ta’.
“What was that about?” said Llewellyn, who was walking past.
“Not sure,” said Emerson.
“These science types give me the creeps,” she said.
“Hmm,” came his reply. “Do me a favour,” he continued, “check out the navigational array, will you?”
“I ran a diagnostic on it twenty minutes ago, Landon. She’s tiptop,” came Llewellyn’s quick reply. Emerson gave her a look that basically told her he didn’t give a shit and to do it again.
“Yes, sir,” she said. “Anything I should be looking for?”
“It’s probably nothing,” he said.
“Yes, sir,” she said and got to work.
The flickers of lights from The Betty speckled the surrounding workstations with splashes of colour. Emerson had been awake now for twenty-six hours and was starting to feel it.
“Emerson to Tosh,” he said, hovering over a comm panel.
“Tosh here.”
“Danny boy, any chance you can take over down here while I catch up on some shuteye?”
“Be delighted to,” came Tosh’s response. “Be there in ten minutes. Tosh out.” Emerson was relieved. He could have easily left Llewellyn in charge, but he wanted Tosh down here in case anything serious happened. He should have been here the whole time and not lounging about on the bridge. Emerson hadn’t eaten in hours and was finally starting to feel a wave of dizziness come over him.
“Emerson to Barrington,” he said
“Go ahead,” came the confident response. Emerson knew that the captain hadn’t left the bridge since the jump and was amazed at how alert he sounded.
“Captain, I would like to leave engineering to get some shuteye. Doctor Tosh is going to keep an eye on things. Unless you have any objections?”
“None. Please let the crew know that Tosh is in charge until your return. Barrington out.”
In a perfect world the command structure of The Agathon would have been strictly under the purview of the Jycorp military, but with command personnel thin on the ground responsibility for ship functions was designated to the most qualified, whether they be military or not. Tosh had not wanted the responsibility of engineering and had recommended Emerson for the role, with a view to maintaining a supervisory consultative presence throughout. Emerson was a natural leader and was the best engineer on the Jycorp Orbital, if not the entire colony. He was also unencumbered by a physical disability and, although it was never mentioned, a physically fit crewmember was essential to running such a dynamic environment. Emerson was hands on and spent most of his time jammed between the crawl spaces of the ship fixing any number of problems. In an emergency, access to these crawl spaces needed to be quick and Tosh simply could not offer the same mobility. A few minutes later in he rolled, still in ‘Terrain mode’.
“You look like shit,” he said to Emerson.
“Thanks, boss,” he said, smiling.
“Keep an eye on the coolant manifolds. They were acting up about an hour ago,” Emerson continued.
“You doing okay, kid?” asked Tosh. Emerson felt burnt out.
“Nothing a few Zs wouldn’t cure, Danny boy.” Llewellyn looked over at the pair.
“Amanda, come say hi to Tosh.” She walked over to them and shook his hand.
“Doctor Tosh, good to see you. I’ve heard a lot about you. It’s great to finally work with you… I’ve a million questions.” She was way too enthusiastic for Emerson, who simply backed off and waved goodbye to a clearly nervous Tosh. He didn’t think he had much experience with women and he found it rather amusing to leave him in the thick of it while he took a nap. As he walked out of the engine room and through the corridors to his quarters, the image of Tyrell at the navigation station was glued to the back of his mind. It was probably nothing. He was tired.
11
24 hours since departure
22:00 Martian Standard
“Iwould say congratulations ar
e in order, Mr. Young. I wish the circumstances could have been different but the results are impressive,” Barrington said to Young across the table. It was late and Young had asked Barrington to join him for a drink. Barrington was hesitant at first but had agreed to it. They looked out at the merging greys of hyperspace through the large windows in the conference room, which was one deck below the bridge. It was empty apart from some scattered chairs. A newly opened bottle of scotch and two half full glasses sat crisply on the surface of the table.
Young smiled. “You think I am just a suit, don’t you, John?” The frankness of his question didn’t surprise Barrington and he didn’t hesitate with his answer. Life was growing very short for the usual social graces.
“I think a man with the power that you have,” he paused, “had... could find it difficult to attain were it not thrust upon you.”
“I see,” Young replied. “You think power can only be earned on a battlefield? And you think that battlefields can only be called so, if there are weapons on them?” he continued. “I could have had you replaced on this ship or on the colony is less than ten minutes with one call.”
“Mr Young, if you wanted a pissing contest I wish you would have said so before getting on my ship,” said Barrington. Young raised his hands.
“I’m sorry, John. That wasn’t my intention. My love is of the signal, John. Not power. I left Earth because of the signal. I would have spent my whole life on that little grey rock if I could have figured it out. I was close to something towards the end.”
“That’s why you appointed Clark?” asked Barrington. Young raised his eyebrows.
“I am no leader of planets, Captain. A mathematical genius? Yes. Financier? Yes. Leader of people? No thanks very much.” The man sitting next to him surprised Barrington.
“You know it’s funny,” he continued. “When you grow up seeing your name on practically every single building in the world you have nowhere to hide from it.”
“Makes sense,” said Barrington.
The Agathon: Book One Page 16
