“Life support failure. Evacuate,” came the female computer announcement in a hail of yellow lights. The message repeated as Barrington looked around the bridge.
“Engine room!” he shouted, after running to a comm panel. There was no answer. Carrie felt the air on the bridge become acrid and stale.
“Sir, we have to go,” shouted Boyett, as she started to cough. Carrie grabbed her father’s arm.
“Come on,” she said. She could feel his frustration and anger as he turned to the bridge crew.
“Evacuate,” came the female computer voice again.
“Chavel, you certain this place is breathable?” he asked the lieutenant, who was now walking quickly towards him. Chavel nodded.
“Emergency breathers on,” he said. Carrie had forgotten that the bridge held a store of breathers and followed Chavel over to a storage compartment to help distribute them. The clear devices slid over the nose and mouth and attached at the back of the head. She activated hers with a tap and felt the soothing release of oxygen into her lungs. Barrington placed his breather on and tried to access the ship’s computer again. It came to life as Boyett joined him and stood looking at the atmospheric readings of the planet they had just ‘landed’ on. He turned to Boyett.
“How long to ventilate the entire ship if we blow all the airlocks?”
“Not long,” she answered.
He stared back at the screen. “Okay, we go deck by deck. Get everyone you see to their evacuation points and start getting them off. We’ll set up a base camp just outside the ship until we can get life support backup, but in the meantime we need to get air into this ship. I’m going to the engine room. Carrie, I want you and Chavel to go to deck 24 and open the main docking airlock. Do not leave the ship until ordered. Clear?” he said looking at her. Carrie knew not to disobey her father when he looked at her like that. Commanding officer or not.
“Got it,” she said, as they entered the lift.
“What can I do?” said Young, who was standing to the rear of the bridge with his breather on. He had a patch of dried blood staining his face.
“Try and get to medical and see if they need any help,” said Barrington.
“Okay,” he said behind his breather.
“Abandon ship.”
As they turned to enter the lift Carrie suddenly felt a shock run up her spine. It faded quickly but something else started creeping into her mind. Something was watching them.
Tyrell’s lab
20:08 Martian Standard
The door to the lab hissed open. Tyrell had to cover his eyes as he entered. There was smoke everywhere and the sounds of sparks coming from the rear of the lab made him stop in his tracks.
“No,” he whispered to himself.
The lights were out and the emergency lights were intermittently flickering on and off. There had clearly been a chemical fire and the suppression system had come on. Equipment lay strewn haphazardly on the floor and parts of overhead cabling dangled aimlessly. Tyrell stepped inside and allowed the doors to close behind him. It had felt like someone had ransacked his home. He stepped across the floor towards one of the computer’s stations. There was a crunching sound underfoot as he crushed a fallen container. He recoiled his foot to check whether he had torn the material of his boot. He picked up a broken swing arm that was leaning precariously over one of the tables and examined the broken section of its base.
“Perfect,” he said out loud. “You awake in there?” he shouted into the containment area that held the sample of The Black. A light flickered on and off as Tyrell turned his concentration to the data cube he had been studying for the last several weeks. He had noticed that he had lost some weight and had to remind himself to eat sometime soon. He tapped the panel it was attached to and it lit up.
“Please,” he said, as the flow of power trickled through the device and activated the rendering of the alien structure found on the planet. Tyrell sighed and looked towards the ceiling of the lab.
“Thank God,” he said. He opened a locked drawer under the table with his thumb print and took out a small log recorder and placed it on the desk. He tapped the log recorder and it began to blink.
“Play last entry,” he said into the device. It chirped.
“Doctor Tyrone Tyrell, log entry, readings from the star fixes confirm anomalous space time permutations arising from long term FTL use. The artefact is much older than we originally thought. I believe it is upwards of several million years old. Isotopic scans of the area indicate a high level of decaying Gamma particles, indicating a non-natural event leading to the inhospitable nature of the planet and surrounding star system. While current FTL equations are holding true, eliminating relative variances, the boundaries between normal and hyperspace are not acting as anticipated. We may have some time dilation. End log.”
He cleared some cables from an adjacent seat and pulled himself into the desk. He tapped the recorder again.
“Doctor Tyrone Tyrell, log entry.” He paused and looked around the trashed room. “There has been a fire in the lab. A lot of the equipment has been badly damaged. Luckily the scans of the alien artefact are intact. The ship has been brought down by a technological presence on the third planet of the star system. This is not the Aristaeus system. We have not, as of yet, carried out an accurate stellar observation to ascertain our current location, but whatever has happened there is no doubt that there is some sort of technology orbiting this planet. Further tests are not possible currently, due to failing life support on board The Agathon. I am evacuating sensitive data pods and securing The Black sample. The planet appears to have an atmosphere capable of supporting life. We may be stuck here for quite a while, so I will have to...”
A noise from the containment area of the lab paused his recording. It sounded like there was something moving. His heart froze suddenly as he thought about The Black. It could not have breached its container. That was impossible. He stood and made his way over to the entrance to the containment area. He peered into the room through the glass window that separated them. There was no smoke inside but the lights had gone out completely. The only illumination came from inside the main area of the lab and it was intermittent. He tried to focus on the area of the room that held the sample of The Black. He could not see it. He reached up and released the door locks and stepped inside. He regretted Carrie not being around anymore to help him with little tasks like this one. She would have come in handy right about now. The door hissed behind him and he took a deep breath from the breather. He reached for the emergency lighting panel and tried to activate the room’s lights. There was no power flowing through the panel. A flash of light from the lab outside lit up the central containment area for a moment. Tyrell froze at the sight of the broken container. He suddenly felt like he was standing in hot liquid.
“Fuck!” he shouted into the room. He tried to turn but his legs were taken from under him. He hit the ground with a thud, striking his head solidly off the floor. He looked down to see a flash of light bounce off The Black liquid as it made its way up his legs.
“Tyrell to Barrington!” he screamed. No answer.
“No, no, no,” he shouted as he tried to reach for the walls. He knew he only had seconds left but strangely there was no pain. He had known this alien substance liquefied organic material on contact, but he was feeling no pain.
“Help!” he screamed. He always wondered what it would be like to die but hadn’t expected himself to be so frightened. How stupid had he been to bring this on board.
“Fuck you!” he screamed through the breather as The Black oozed its way over his body. Still no pain. Just constriction of his body. The liquid felt tight. He looked around and gabbed at the floor with his nails. His breather was torn from his face and, before he could reattach it, the warmth of The Black had crept up around his shoulders and neck and was now beginning to slide over his mouth. He drew a
quick long breath and sealed his lips. His reflexes had taken full control.
He closed his eyes and felt the liquid cover his face. He couldn’t understand why he wasn’t dead yet. Still no pain. He lay on the ground, completely covered with The Black as it rippled and oozed around his body. It didn’t feel like liquid. It was sticky. Every inch seemed to move independently. His mouth began to feel like it was being prised open. His lips were slowly being pulled apart by what felt like tiny muscles on the surface of The Black. The pressure on his lips began to increase until they split apart. He gritted his teeth and screamed for the last time as a flood of the alien substance forced its way into his throat and down deep into his stomach and lungs. His muscles began to reflux as the pressure of the fluid filling his body deprived them of oxygen. Terror began to fill his mind as it felt like the liquid began to burst through his lungs and stomach and fill the rest of his body. He didn’t lose consciousness. He had stopped breathing seconds ago, but his mind remained fully aware. The warm fluid began to fill his head. His mind began to sink.
Tyrell? he thought he heard Carrie say, as the world began to fall away into a haze of distorted images. He suddenly felt like he were looking at his own mind in the third person. He was still alive, but not alive. It felt like he was being pushed away into the far reaches of a dark basement. His last thought was catching his reflection in the surface of a metallic container in the lab. He was standing upright. Looking at himself. Smiling. He felt ancient. He felt free. As the blackness of his mind began to overcome his conscious thoughts, he thought he heard laughter.
19
22:00 Martian Standard
Carrie screamed and fell to her knees. The last of The Agathon’s passengers and crew were just leaving the ship and staring out at the vistas of the planet. Tyrell had just died. She was sure of it. She felt him scream in agony. It was the first time she had been able to sense anything from him. He was afraid.
“Are you okay?” Chavel said, as he laid his arms across her back and helped her to her feet. They had their breathers off and were taking supplies off the airlock ramp when she suddenly felt the terror of Tyrell’s death.
“We have to go in,” she said to Chavel. “I think he’s dead.”
“Who?” Chavel asked with a look of concern on his face at the sudden outburst from Carrie.
“Tyrell,” she said, righting herself.
“Where is Tyrell?” Chavel looked around at the people surrounding the ship. All faces seemed to be peering into what looked like a blue forest about half a mile south of the landing point. The ship had landed in an opening covered with a mixture of clay and loose bedrock. The landing struts had not deployed and the hull was slightly submerged in soft mud. The airlock ramp had been unable to completely open fully, but it was enough to allow the people and equipment off the downed vessel.
“I haven’t seen him. I thought he was off the ship,” said Chavel. “What’s happening, Carrie, talk to me,” he asked, looking into her eyes.
“I have to go inside,” she said, moving past him up the airlock.
“Okay, hang on there,” he said, grabbing her arm. “The ship isn’t fully ventilated yet, let me get a couple of breathers. I’ll go with you,” he said. She paused, looking into corridors of the ship that had darkened with the power conservation protocols Emerson had enacted following the evacuation. Chavel left her side, jumped off the ramp and grabbed the breathers, which were lying on a medical crate.
Carrie looked deep into the ship. She had heard Tyrell scream. She was sure of it. He was terrified. He was in there somewhere. She felt a pulse of electricity run down her arm. She calmed her breathing and clenched her fists, as she tried to steady herself and get control. Looking around she saw Chavel returning up the gangway and handing her a breather. They placed them over their heads and headed back into the ship. As they entered the corridor, Carrie activated a light, which she had attached to her wrist. She shone it in the direction of the lift at the end of the hall and suddenly jumped at the figure standing just outside it, staring at them.
“Jesus Christ,” shouted Chavel, holding his chest. Tyrell looked back them and tilted his head. Carrie couldn’t believe how easily he had appeared in front of them without her sensing it, but there he was. Chavel looked at Carrie.
“Doctor, are you all right? We thought you might have had an accident.” Carrie looked at Tyrell carefully. She sensed a presence.
“Sorry if I startled you,” Tyrell finally said calmly. “The communications systems are down and I had more to do in the lab than I had originally anticipated.” He picked up some cases that were lying next to him and began walking steadily towards the two. He was calm and fluid in his motions.
“Where is your breather?” asked Chavel.
“No need for it, Lieutenant. Plenty of air in here now, wouldn’t you say?” he said jovially. He looked at Carrie, who took a step backwards.
“Would you mind helping me with this case, Dice?” he asked her.
“What?” she said, still looking into his eyes. She was definitely feeling an emotional presence but she was absolutely certain that whatever was standing in front of her was not the man she had spent all that time with as an apprentice. He had never called her Dice.
“Of course, Doctor,” she replied.
“Excellent. Then let’s proceed,” he said, as the trio turned and headed out of the airlock and onto the planet’s surface. Carrie remained several steps behind. While she knew Chavel was looking at her oddly, she never took her eyes off Tyrell.
“Doctor, what is the status of sample of The Black?” she said suddenly. Tyrell stopped at the base of the airlock and looked up at the greyish sky.
“Look at that,” he said, pausing and taking a large intake of air. He tilted his head and moved forward.
“Doctor?” Carrie repeated. He stopped again and turned to her.
“I’m sorry, Carrie, there was a chemical fire in the lab the entire sample was destroyed.” He shrugged his shoulders and moved outwards, away from the ship.
“Thank God for that. Having that shit on board was freaking me out,” said Chavel. Carrie didn’t answer. She kept her eyes very carefully locked on the doctor.
Base Camp
Twenty-two days since Departure
07.33 Martian Standard
They had slept in emergency pop tents overnight. The temperature had dropped to well below freezing, as they huddled around The Agathon. There had been a light breeze and, apart from the occasional rustling of leaves from the forest, there had been very little disturbance. In the morning the nearby star flooded the flat plain they had landed on with thick and warm light. Barrington had had very little sleep and had awoken several times with some strange noises that sounded like animal calls in the distance. He awoke to find Charly Boyett working on the exterior hull of The Agathon. He walked over to her and nodded a greeting.
“Report,” Barrington said, placing his hand on Boyett’s shoulder. She had her hand on the hull of the ship and was running a scanner over its surface. She turned and faced the captain.
“Good morning, sir,” she said politely. Barrington nodded.
“I think we’ll have life support back up by tomorrow. Emerson has found the damaged relay and is heading in with a team in a couple of hours. He’s over there with Tosh at the moment, running a full damage report assessment. I’m conducting some stress tests here, seeing how badly the impact affected the hull integrity.”
“And,” Barrington pressed.
“And it looks like the old girl can take a beating all right. I think we can get her off no problem, once we figure out what the hell brought us down.” Barrington nodded, looking off in the direction of the nearby forest.
“Okay, Charly, once you’re done here, turn your attention to the propulsion systems. I want to be able to make a quick exit,” he said. She raised her eyebrows.
“Captain,” came a voice behind them. Jerome Young was making his way over to them.
“Mr Young. How’s the head?” Barrington asked.
“Built like a rock, John. How’s my ship?” he said smiling.
“No permanent damage,” he said, smiling. “Sorry about the scratches, you can take it out of my pay cheque. Any word on the tech that brought us down?” he asked.
“Let’s walk and talk,” said Young. They headed out around the parameter of the ship. Barrington noted how hard the ground felt underfoot. He wondered if Young’s new leg implant was sending him the same information.
“How’s the leg?” he asked as they circled underneath the FTL ring.
“Odd sensation, to be honest, but it works very well, thank you,” he replied. He paused under The Agathon’s hull. “Captain, I would like to take a small team into that nearby forest. If you can call it that. There’s electromagnetic activity coming from inside it and it may be linked to whatever made the ship loose main power before we came down,” he said. The two men stared into the distance. The open plain the ship had landed on was broken in parts by a small collection of green mounds that lay dotted around the surface like miniature mountains.
“Are you getting any other readings from out there?” asked Barrington.
“You mean little green men?” asked Young, smiling.
“Something like that,” replied the captain.
“No is the short answer, although judging by the tech that’s in orbit we can hardly rule it out. If you’re asking if an alien civilisation was responsible for crashing the ship, I don’t have an answer for you.” Barrington remained passive as he looked on into the distance.
“Captain, this is what we came here to do. By the looks of things this planet seems to be an excellent candidate for settlement. It may have merely been a solar or planetary magnetic field event, that we happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.” Young looked away from Barrington. “I’m asking as a courtesy, John.” The tone of the conversation shifted as Barrington met Young’s gaze and glared at him. Young raised his hands.
The Agathon: Book One Page 24
