“Nothing a little horizontal time wouldn’t cure,” he said. She looked at him and raised a dark brown eyebrow. Suddenly realising how that sounded to the twenty-eight-year-old FTL technician from Paris, he laughed and corrected himself. “That is to say I could use some sleep. Don’t get any ideas.”
She laughed. She had dark brown eyes and while her face was not classically beautiful, she had a strong jawline and beautiful hands. Tosh had a thing for a woman’s hands. Strong and graceful hands.
“Do you really think Young is dead?” she asked.
Tosh looked at her intently and leaned back in his chair.
“I don’t know, Atanazja. I honestly doubt it.” He took the long thin tool she just handed him, attached it to The Betty and began making adjustments.
“Not many people know this, but there was an assassination attempt on Jerome Young nine years ago in Cairo.”
“Really? I never heard about that,” she said.
“Nobody did,” he said.
“An explosive device detonated inside his land cruiser. It killed everyone on board. Seven security detail, including one of his nephews. He walked away without a scratch.”
“Jesus,” she said.
“Yep. Not long after that he transferred permanently to the Jycorp orbital and dragged my floating ass to Phobos,” he said, not taking his gaze away from his work.
“I’ve never met him,” said Atanazja, looking at the ground. Tosh paused his work.
“We’ve been friends a long time. I knew his father well, unfortunately, but that incident in Cairo changed him. He has been trying to get away from Earth his whole life. If anyone can survive an exploding volcano underfoot, Jerome Young can,” he said. The engine room hushed and the pair looked over to find the captain, Carrie and Doctor Meridian approaching.
“Captain, what news?” said Tosh, turning to face the approaching trio.
“I was about to ask you the same thing, Doctor Tosh,” came a firm reply.
“FTL systems are all normal and the pressure seals are holding on deck three. We have a few more tests, but once Emerson gives us a green light we can release the FTL ring and get on our way. Have you heard any news about Jerome Young?” he asked, trying to conceal his genuine concern for his friend.
“He’ll live, Daniel,” Barrington replied. He moved closer to Tosh to converse more privately. “He lost a leg, but Brubaker is working on it. I don’t want to interrupt you, if you’re making crucial repairs. This is a flying visit.” Tosh breathed a silent sigh of relief at the news of Young’s status and turned back to The Betty.
“I will be in Doctor Tyrell’s lab for the next half hour to forty minutes, so please contact me there when Emerson returns.”
“Not a problem, Captain,” came Tosh’s reply.
He noticed how he fell into formality with Barrington a lot more easily than he had expected. He also noticed how his daughter Carrie was looking at him. There was curiosity in her eyes and something else. She looked uncomfortable. She was staring at him and not making much of a secret of it. He had known her to be a quiet scientist, but did not know anything else about her other than the fact that she was Barrington’s daughter. He drew his eyes away from her and got back to his work on the FTL systems. As they walked out of the engine room he glanced at the exit which slid open. She looked back at him one last time and made eye contact. She paused then followed her father out.
“What the hell was that?” Tosh whispered to himself.
“Sorry, Doctor?” said Atanazja. He met her eyes, which were looking oddly at him.
“Nothing,” he said. “I’m not very good with people,” he said without thinking. “Let’s run a test on FTL ring deployment,” he said.
“Okay,” she said, as he glanced back at the now shut exit. He shook off the odd feeling he had from Barrington’s daughter and took solace in knowing Young was all right. He reminded himself to kick his ass for taking stupid risks again, when he was back on his feet. Where the hell is Emerson? he thought.
Tyrell’s lab
The door hissed open as the two Barringtons and Doctor Meridian entered Tyrell’s lab.
“Lights,” said Carrie. The light levels increased.
“Feels like sneaking into your parents’ house when they’ve gone away for the weekend,” said Meridian with a wry smile.
“It’s over here,” said Carrie. “I’ve compiled the data into a Holo image so that you can see a more detailed picture of what was sent back.” She moved over beside a square black platform with a clear sealed box on top of it, which was atop a cylindrical pillar. She tapped in a few commands on the flush control panel and a three dimensional holographic image emerged from the surface.
“This is a scaled down version of the imaging chamber we used to have at the observatory on Mars,” she said, continuing to enter commands into the clear panel. Her father and Doctor Meridian stood at its side and watched the rendering as it began to take shape.
“This is the main rock feature that Doctor Tyrell scanned when they first set up the equipment on the surface,” she said, pointing to the protruding angular structure.
“I don’t get it,” said Meridian. The captain looked at Carrie.
“Hang on, Chase, look at this,” she replied. She then tapped a command into the control panel and the image changed to show a large chunk of the ground blasted away from the rock face.
“These are the scans of the rock after David…” she paused, keeping her gaze fixed on the image, “After Lieutenant Chavel used his pulse rifle to remove a section of the bedrock.” Meridian’s eyes widened as the new rendering showed what lay beneath the rock. What first looked like fossilised carvings began to take on a more uniform and technological look about them. Rows and rows of what looked like piping and electrical cabling dug their way out of the ground and twisted in and out of each other in synchronous harmony.
“Looks like a heating conduit or some kind of environmental plant,” said Meridian, taking a step closer to the image.
“Look at the markings,” said Carrie, directing their attention to the subtle carvings visible throughout what now looked obviously artificial in nature. Her father shook his head.
“Sorry, Dice, I don’t get it,” he said.
“It’s the signal makers,” came a raspy voice from behind them. Carrie jumped at the sudden and unexpected presence of Doctor Tyrell, who stood at the entrance of his lab and stared at them. He took a breath of the portable breather that Brubaker had obviously given him.
“What are you doing out of the medical, Tyrone?” the captain said, frowning. Tyrell made his way over to the group.
“Stupid doctors would have you living in a medical bay if they had their way. I am perfectly capable of continuing with my work. And besides, this is far more important than the minor discomfort of nearly having your lungs melted from the inside out. You will be pleased to know that the young lieutenant is up and about and that Jerome Young’s surgery is progressing nicely,” he finished with a smile to Carrie.
“Now, as my assistant has so correctly directed your attention to the markings on this alien device, I can probably fill in some of the detail,” he said, bolstering forward.
Meridian looked at Carrie and folded her arms while taking a breath. “Please, Doctor, we would be lost without your keen insight into the matter,” she said dryly. Tyrell ignored her and began circling the image.
“Captain, these markings are the same as those found on the exterior of the structure on Phobos. The degree of radiation present on the surface and what dating we could ascertain from the soil analysis, implies that whatever this mechanical device was, be it a power plant or a toilet, we think it is just over half a million years old,” he said.
“Just before the gas pocket erupted underneath us, Mr Young made a startling discovery while examining the underside of what looked like
some sort of carbon composite piping running the length of the structure. I began to make scans of it, but I do not think I was successful in their transmission before the accident. Carrie?” he said, turning to Carrie who had anticipated his request and was searching the data archives on the imager. She took the cube that she had retrieved from the medical bay and placed it on a data transfer plate. The clear surface lit up when it came into contact with the device and began relaying information directly into the imaging array. Tyrell looked on as the image began to change smoothly and focus in on one of the surfaces of the cylindrical piping.
“There,” said Tyrell, suddenly pointing his finger to the display.
“What am I looking at, Tyrone?” said the captain.
“Carrie, increase magnification by ten,” Tyrell said. The image zoomed in.
“Is that a person?” said Meridian, looking at the carving. It was definitely humanoid but much thinner and longer than a person. It had long outstretched arms that seemed to reach for the stars. It had something resembling a mouth at the centre of an elongated oval head. The arms ended in three outstretched digits at the end of thin hand-like formations.
“It’s them, John,” said Tyrell, looking at the captain. Carrie looked at Meridian, whose mouth was open. Tyrell froze the image.
“Did you find anything else?” asked the captain. “What makes you think it was the signal makers?” he said.
“Look at what is beside the figure,” said Tyrell, pointing to a carving to the left of the humanoid.
“I can’t make it out,” said Carrie. Tyrell sighed.
“Look!” he said, wiggling his fingers and tracing an edge around the straight lines.
“It’s the Monolith,” said Carrie. Tyrell looked at the captain, who momentarily made eye contact with him before returning his gaze to the image.
“Boyett to Captain Barrington,” came the voice over the comms. The captain tapped the comm panel on the wall.
“Go ahead,” he said.
“We are clear to spin up the FTL, sir. Emerson has given us a green light up here,” she said.
“Okay, Charly, release the FTL ring and begin the rotation sequence. I’ll join you shortly. Barrington out.” He turned to Tyrell and Carrie.
“Keep at it. Any more information about what you think this represents or what happened here would be useful. In the meantime, strap in everyone while we get back on course.” With that he nodded farewell and began to walk towards the door.
I think we should have a talk later, he said to Carrie with his thoughts.
That’s a good idea, she replied.
PART 3
17
Rec Room
Twenty-one days since departure
15:32
“Keep your left arm up. You keep dropping your form,” said Carrie to Chavel as he hit the deck after missing another one of her lethal backhands. The floor of the X-Ball court was glistening with sweat, as Chavel lay on his back.
“Come on, hot rod, one set to go,” said Carrie, as she walked over to him and stepped across his chest.
“I prefer the view from down here,” he said through several heaving breaths, as he looked up at her. She held out a hand, which he took lightly and stepped backwards, letting her weight lift him off the ground.
“So much for going easy on me, eh?” she said. He reached in closer to give her a kiss but she backed off.
“Don’t think so, sweaty!” she said, laughing and walking over to the fluorescent ball that lay by one of the four-inch ground targets. Chavel laughed.
Carrie could feel his intentions clearly enough, but was not about to get physical with her lover in the rec room. That kind of gossip on a ship was bad news. The relationship between the two was no secret on the ship and they had openly begun to show public affection. Carrie found him to be a kind and caring man and, while she deflected his frequent attempts to have her open up about her feelings towards him, she kept him at arm’s length. His mind was one of the easiest to read on the ship and she took comfort in that when they lay together at night. The familiarity of his loving thoughts, as they transferred from his mind to hers, had a profound meditative effect on her. She did not know what she felt for David Chavel, but she knew she that could trust him. She knew that he was a pure soul, if slightly juvenile and lacking direction. He was brave. She didn’t need to see the evidence of the medal he kept locked away. He loved her. She knew that. She could not open her mind to that, as it remained opened to the crew.
For over a month she had tried to scan the minds of those on board, hunting for the saboteur. Something was blocking her and while she tried several more times, by letting the crew back into the castle, she was thrown out of it by the dark figure. Her father had told her to keep at it and begun to post security details around key systems of the ship, including environmental control systems and The Betty. Tyrell had spent the last four weeks in relative isolation in his lab, analysing the data collected from the planet. Carrie had asked to be assigned to the bridge, engineering for operations and FTL propulsion control training. She was glad to be out of Tyrell’s shadow and she had begun to interact more with the crew.
“Twenty-one to eleven in my favour,” she said to Chavel, as she raised the ball to serve. She raised the oval curved racket and served the ball against the large back wall target. Her racket lit up when the ball came in contact with it, as did the target area and the outlines of the court areas when it bounced on their surface.
Anticipating Chavel was easy with the link she had with him. Although he was still only vaguely aware of it, she knew he was beginning to grow suspicious of her ability to know certain things about him. Like where he was about to hit the ball. They traversed the court, which was played over two levels with inclinations at the edges of the walls so that you could launch off into a different direction with ease. While she greatly outclassed him at this game, she admired his determination and willpower. She had let him win several of the points to boost his pride. She understood that much of the male nature. She leapt from one of the wall sides and returned a clever shot by the lieutenant. The ball bounced several times against the enclosed walls of the court and Chavel was able to return the shot, but not without slamming into one of the walls first.
“I’m okay,” he said, as he kept a frantic eye on the glow of the impacts. Carrie’s movements were smooth. She kept herself light and on the balls of her feet. Her breathing was controlled and focused. The gravity on the ship was kept at Martian levels, which were sixty-two percent lower than that of Earth. While Chavel and the rest of the crew had grown accustomed to it, Carrie’s ease of movement in the lower Gs had been with her since birth. She could see him tiring so decided it would be best to end their activity with a killer stroke. The last shot she made had sent the ball high over Chavel’s head. He had managed to reposition himself to return the shot, but she knew exactly where he was going to put it. She adjusted her body position to counter with a low corner target shot behind his left leg and waited for the ball to come to her.
“All hands, this is the captain,” came her father’s voice over the comms. Chavel stopped mid-swing and caught the ball with an open hand.
“We are thirty minutes from our destination. Please prepare to drop out of hyperspace. Be alert. Bridge crew to stations. Barrington out.” Chavel looked at Carrie.
“You got lucky,” he said, struggling to breathe. She walked over to him and kissed him on the cheek.
“Come on, champ,” she said.
“I’m telling you, I had you right where I wanted you,” he said as she walked out of the court. He joined her and began to walk through the rec room, which was filled with an array of activities from the X-Ball court to a running track to a firing range. They wrapped towels around their necks and headed for the changing rooms.
“I wonder what we’ll find at Aristaeus,” Chavel said silently to C
arrie. She didn’t answer.
Bridge
The door to the bridge opened and Tyrell and Young walked out. Both of them looked on at the view screens in anticipation. Barrington turned to Young.
“How’s the new leg, Jerome?” he said. Young seemed to be walking with ease.
“It works like a charm, Captain. Thank you,” he said, smiling. Barrington had noticed a slight limp as he walked, but that was to be expected. He had known many men who had needed bio-implants in his life and knew that in some cases it took years for the central nervous system to fully integrate the new limbs.
“Take a seat, gentlemen. We should be dropping out of hyperspace in or near the Aristaeus system,” said Barrington. Boyett was focused clearly on her instrument panel, as she prepared to take the FTL drive offline. The doors to the bridge opened again, and Carrie and Chavel walked onto the bridge.
“Take your station, Lieutenant,” Barrington said.
“Carrie, shadow Chavel. I want you to monitor the surrounding system for anomalous debris fields and radiation. I also want you to get an accurate star fix as soon as possible, once we breach normal space.”
“Yes, sir,” said Chavel, walking across to his station. Carrie followed him close behind and took a seat at the diagnostic station next to Chavel. Boyett didn’t acknowledge any of the new arrivals, as she moved her eyes over her instrument panel and kept careful watch on the ship’s flight status. Tyrell stood behind the captain and looked out at the view screens.
“Engine room status,” Barrington said into his comms.
“Emerson here. Everything five by five, captain. Ready when you are to drop us out.” The comms chirped closed.
“Two minutes,” said Boyett suddenly. The bridge fell quiet. All eyes were on the view screens above the bridge. Barrington began running scenarios through his head and did a computer check on the manual deployment of the escape pods.
“Thirty seconds,” said Boyett, with her eyes locked on the centre screen.
The Agathon: Book One Page 22
