Added to the horrid collision between lust and morality was the stress of their outrageous journey. Julius simply hadn’t conceived, upon joining the crew, of how far they intended to travel. Although close enough to make hypersleep an expensive and dangerous liability, The Belt was a staggering, incomprehensible distance from Qelandi, especially for a young man unused to journeys of longer than a day’s walk. The loneliness of their lumbering ship, tumbling slowly through a limitless, all-swallowing void, was intolerable. They were like a pin-prick in the unutterable vastness. The thought gripped and choked him.
He couldn’t sleep. He ate little, and always alone in his room. In those calmer moments, when he was temporarily freed of his guilt over Mesilla and his terror at the inky-black enormity which consumed them, he continued to rage at the one, overriding object of his hatred: Holdrian. How could he sit back, he asked himself, knowing what he knew, and blithely permit such gross and persistent insults to The Five? It was right there, in black and white. He’d never normally have thought himself capable of zealotry, but that was the word Zak had used. Mesilla went further, calling him ‘close to unhinged’. Arby said that his ‘glue was coming loose’ and that he should go into hypersleep for all their sakes.
In the end, it was something worse. Zak called a meeting and announced his plans for Landfall, which was finally approaching. Scans were providing crucial data about the surface of their target planetismal, a red-orange dust bowl, alternately baking and freezing in a glacial, ninety-hour day. Ugly as it sounded, Julius couldn’t wait to get off the Orion; the lounge had stunk of alcohol and weird smokes for a long time, and it would give him the chance to put a whole planet, potentially, between himself and Mesilla. Time to sit and think and be calm. It would do him the world of good, he felt certain.
But he would not go.
Zack watched Julius’ thunderstruck face with a detached expression which made his unprecedented command decision all the more galling. “We’d normally need all four hands down there,” he explained, his lies well practiced but transparent all the same. “But the rock is incredibly well stratified – it’s like a layer cake, guys, I’m serious – so we’ll just take Arby as engineer and Mesilla for troubleshooting and security. Julius will take care of the ship, maybe give the place a clean, and oversee the dockings as they come in.”
Even the others were surprised at their Captain’s dishonesty. Their docking software was a work of art, rendering the whole process automated. Julius knew exactly what was going on; he’d come all this way, endured boredom and heartache and loneliness and isolation, all to find himself set aside as a callous punishment. It had been years ago, but he was brought back to those bruising moments when he was among the poor saps on the substitutes bench during school yard Qelandi groundball tournaments. It made him sick with disappointment. And unexpressed rage.
“Six days, buddy boy,” Arby reminded him, “and we’ll be back with enough Frejudium to buy yourself a nice, big treat when you get home.”
“I’m not going home,” Julius said simply, his expression glum.
“We’ll be back in a flash,” Zak promised. “You be nice to my ship, alright? And next time, we’ll see how things go, and I’ll make it up to you.”
“Sure.”
“Put it this way,” the Captain said, an arm patronizingly around Julius’ tensed shoulders, “you can make billions while just sitting here staring at the stars and enjoying Arby’s bar, while we do all the heavy lifting. You’re the lucky one.”
“Yeah, I’m the lucky one,” Julius parroted.
Mesilla came to his room, the night before their departure, offering her own form of apology. “It sucks,” she said. “I tried to change his mind, but…”
“It won’t be too bad,” he said dismissively. “I might work a little on the computer while you’re away. Improve my coding. Maybe even invent some cocktails which are better than Arby’s luminous orange crap.”
She smiled and left, and for the rest of the night, Julius made endless notes in his book, justifying what it was he was about to do.
He watched their preparations, helping out a little, but reluctant to be around any of them. As they got ready to transition to the airlock and don their suits, sealing the lounge behind them, Zack beckoned Arby through the door, and then Mesilla. He gave her ass a hearty slap. Mesilla’s giggling resounded in the airlock.
“See you, buddy!” he heard Zak call as the door closed. Then there was the most absolute quiet.
***
The planning took two days, during which Julius was incredibly busy. He requested long lists of calculations from the ship’s computer. Julius knew that Zak would be able to monitor Danny’s processor activity from the shuttle, and so his first move was to block this avenue entirely. His deception had begun.
“Danny?”
“Yes, Julius.”
“I had an analogue signal from Zak, aboard the shuttle.”
“I wasn’t aware of a signal, Julius. Is everything alright with the operation?”
“The operation is fine,” Julius said calmly. “It’s just that Zak’s getting some confusing processor activity in the shuttle’s onboard computer. He’s worried about a virus.”
“I think that’s very unlikely, Julius. I would have noticed any such code error. A scan conducted three seconds ago reveals no infection.”
“Well, the Captain insists that there might be.” Julius gave the computer time to digest this tricky situation. “Danny? Aren’t you concerned that the virus might infect your own mainframe?”
“It is possible,” the machine conceded. “But unlikely.”
“Well, we need to be alive to that possibility, Danny. Would you please close down the digital link between the shuttle and Orion until the Captain has investigated this virus?”
Another pause. “That seems prudent. The link is disconnected. I have informed the shuttle’s computer of the temporary break in communications. When will the Captain clear us to re-connect?”
“It shouldn’t be long. In the meantime, I think you’ll agree that, with the Captain away and out of contact, I have temporary command of the ship.”
Whether it was genuinely uncertain, or simply checking the manual a thousand times to be sure, the computer took time to answer. “That seems logical.”
“Very well, Danny. While we’re waiting for Zak, let’s play around with my latest AGI script and see if we can improve on it.”
Danny loved the idea. “Of course! Your script coding has become much more efficient recently.”
Julius slid a small Red Cube into a port located on the wall near the bar. “Why, thank you, Danny. Go ahead and accept the script, and we’ll get started.”
The machine responded crisply. “Yes, Captain Julius.”
***
The Red Cube contained three programs. The first was a worm which erased Zak, Mesilla and D’Arbus from the ship’s manifest. The computer no longer recognized them as crew members, and therefore paid them, and their potential fate, no mind whatsoever.
The second was a navigation protocol. It commanded Danny to begin computing the best course for Holdrian, based on an aggressive High-Impulse Transfer routing. Danny would expend just over half of the Orion’s remaining hydrogen fuel, leaving the rest for a deceleration burn.
Finally, a single hypersleep module was made ready, and the ship prepared for long-duration, high-speed cruise. The communications link with the shuttle was still down, and so no liaison could be established through with canisters of ore would be sent to the ship. Julius guessed that the mining operation would grind to a halt, and that the Captain would have no choice but to use precious shuttle fuel and return to the Orion.
Seconds after the ship’s onboard radar spotted the shuttle on approach, perhaps three hours away, Julius gave the final command to Danny and hurriedly entered the hypersleep chamber. He strapped himself in and gave voice commands to finalize the automated process. A minute later, as the mutineer was driftin
g off to sleep, Danny fired the powerful nuclear engines and boosted the Orion out of orbit and onto a speed course for Holdrian.
His final thoughts, before the induced sleep took hold, were to pray to The Five. Be kind to me on this righteous journey. Speed my passage, and keep my great ship safe. Bring me to face the enemies of The Pentastria, so that I may do the work for which I was born. Then he floated away, into the dreamless sleep known only to interstellar travelers.
***
Danny was far from idle during the cruise. It was important, he had been told, for him to gather certain intelligence before too much time passed. Their journey to Holdrian would take well over a thousand years, and to guarantee its success, they required information. The only means of acquiring this data was from humans who were still alive now, but certainly would not be at the time of their arrival, and so time was of the essence.
Danny made contact with a ship called the Fiddler’s Elbow. It was nothing more than a ramshackle pirate ship, although its crew styled themselves ‘interstellar traders’. The captain was a man who knew Zak well, largely thanks to a sequence of ‘previous incidents’ which had left him, respectively, flat broke, suddenly bereaved, badly scarred and flat broke again.
“Why don’t he come to the screen and speak to me himself?” Captain Flek asked, more than once. “Or better still, come on over!” An initial part of the deal was for the Elbow to accelerate to match Orion’s speed; the ships were only a few miles apart, and a personal visit was a matter of etiquette.
“I’m afraid we must decline,” Danny told him.
“Don’t tell me he’s afraid to look me in the eye?” Flek cried. Boils, scars and plain bad luck had cratered and twisted Flek’s unforgettable face. He was surely among the least attractive humans in this quarter of the galaxy, but Danny assured him that his repugnance was immaterial.
“Julius is deep in hypersleep and, owing to a shortage of power and other resources, cannot be safely awakened until our arrival at Holdrian. However,” he continued, “we would like to propose a deal we believe you’ll find most attractive.” The computer explained Julius’ plan, following the new captain’s AGI program. “We have the location of Zak and his crew. They are presently stranded, and help is a long way away. In exchange for this information, we have a special request.” Danny forwarded the details; it took Flek nearly three hours to decide.
“Sorry. Had to make some sub-space calls, you see. Check in with some people. But, I reckon we’ve got ourselves a commodious arrangement. I’ll send my files once you’ve sent yours.”
“Done.”
The exchange provided Flek with the means to indulge in cold-hearted and long anticipated revenge upon his most hated enemy. Flek’s data, on the other hand, provided the sleeping Julius with something far more subtle.
Something absolutely priceless.
The deal very nearly passed off without incident, but Flek couldn’t resist a chilling final message. “We’re scanning the moonlet now, and we’re picking up metallic signatures from the surface. A crashed shuttle and an abandoned mining operation. Just like you said.”
“Glad we could be of service,” Danny said. He assumed that this would conclude their business.
But it did not. “You’re helping me right a great wrong,” signaled Flek. “I’m gonna bleed that motherfucker real slow. Maybe trim some fat off that dumbass engineer of his. And then we’re all gonna take turns with Mesilla until long, long after she begs us to stop. Good work, Orion. Bon Voyage, now. Fiddler’s Elbow, out.”
There were exactly sixteen circumstances under which Danny was required to immediately wake Julius. Most covered pursuit by the authorities, an impending collision, a nearby supernova or a mechanical failure onboard the Orion. But it just so happened that any specific threat to Mesilla’s life was among those sixteen. The awakening process began at once.
“What precisely did he say?” Julius demanded, dehydrated and barely able to open his eyes, but tingling with anger.
Danny replayed the message in full and only moments later, Julius made his decision.
On the underside of the Orion’s docking canister, a small hatch opened, exposing a long, thin metal rod. Danny pulsed the ship’s engines and sent a gigantic surge of electrical current to the rod. This enormous charge was then channeled and transmitted in a rasping, white-hot beam of violence, directly at the crew quarters of the Fiddler’s Elbow. Julius was guessing – correctly, as it turned out – that Flek and his crew would have gathered for a celebration in advance of their sweet revenge upon Zak and the others.
The electrical blast surged through the hull and caused utter mayhem onboard the ship. Every important circuit blew out, including life support and the ship’s ageing computer system. There were several hull breaches and three major fires in the electrical circuitry. Two of the crew died at once, and another was sent spinning into space by a sudden decompression. The others survived for about an hour, struggling even to understand how repairs might begin. After that, Danny was unable to detect any signs of movement.
“What will you do now?” Danny asked.
“We have a construction robot on board, don’t we?” Julius wanted to confirm.
“Yes we do,” Danny told him.
“Good. If we have one, we can make many others.”
***
Julius returned to hypersleep, handing over responsibility for the Fiddler’s Elbow to Danny. Remaining awake would be fruitless, as the computer was more than capable of handling what would come next. Besides, Julius knew that, at some point, he would inevitably experience a wave of guilt. Danny reported that the Fiddler’s Elbow had a regular crew of seventeen, all of whom were now dead. Sleep, he decided, would neatly defer the tedious pangs of regret.
Danny took great pride in this assignment. One construction robot quickly became fifteen, and in turn they produced a small army of specialized machines which attached themselves to the derelict ship’s hull, or proceeded onboard to begin making repairs and adjustments. Thrusters were manufactured and attached to the superstructure. One of the numerous empty canisters onboard the Orion was converted into a fully-fledged docking port; this took three years, but Danny was working to a remarkably leisurely timescale. Eventually, the Elbow was brought into hard-dock. Electrical and fluid lines were set up, and repairs could begin in earnest.
Over the next seven hundred years, very literally everything about the ship changed. Her superstructure was replaced by a light but dense alloy which was tough but incredibly durable. Danny estimated that she would be able to tolerate two million years in deep space before needing a structural refit.
The engines took nearly four centuries to complete. Danny installed both a nuclear powerplant and an Alcubierre drive, which in tandem would give the ship a top speed of perhaps four times the speed of light. The electrical, navigation and life support equipment was stripped out and replaced with much-improved systems. The ship gained a robust energy management suite, a set of lightning-quick Replicators, a new sub-space communications array, and a much upgraded ship’s computer based on Danny’s own design. Three centuries passed in a busy, orderly quiet, then five, then seven. While Julius slept, his new ship gradually took shape.
Danny had been granted the right to name the reconditioned vessel, and took years to decide. Eventually, he christened the ship in memory of the designer who had created the class of computers to which he belonged.
Her name was Dr. Fay Stella Larssen.
***
Chapter 26 – The Visitor
Onboard the Phoenix
0.86 light years from Clarion
Paul floated in the mid-deck of Phoenix, feeling a little groggy and incredibly full. His fourth hypersleep period - the second of this journey, so far - had been his longest ever, and also paradoxically his shortest; Paul had aged only a few hours during the process, but the Phoenix had soared some 1382 light years across the spiral arm of the Milky Way. Hal’s original plan had been for Paul to
proceed in sixty-year hops, pausing at planets and moons to refuel and repair the hypersleep module – and its passenger – before beginning another six decade sortie. But with the enhanced Aldebaran modules, there was essentially no safe limit to each leg of the trip.
The almost laughable ease of such mighty journeys made Paul cringe at the thought of the alternative. It would truly have been an unhappy, glacial, step-by-step slog across the galaxy. Freed from this numbing cycle of sleep and awakening, Paul was almost ready to forgive Hal for dragging him speculatively out to Neptune for spurious reasons. It had been, he saw now, a white lie. A necessary one, but regrettable, all the same.
After Hal had steered the Phoenix out of orbit around Araj Kitel, Paul had found himself rather troubled and confused, and woke up feeling much the same way. Eliria’s unexpected appearance had left him with the sense that his journeys were merely part of a much larger project, something so vast and important that its details were being deliberately kept from him. Stopping Julius was more than complex enough without unwelcome interference from unseen sources. He still didn’t understand what Clarion was, or who he might find there, but there was now the certainty that Garlidan was playing a role.
And that probably meant he was in for a wild ride.
The ship’s Replicator provided the traditionally massive post-hypersleep meal, though the new module design made this more of an indulgence than a necessity. Hal devised a delicious menu of Indian curries from every part of the subcontinent. Endless cups of sweetened tea washed everything down. Naan bread, hot and soft, flavored with garlic butter, was the perfect way to finish each course, mopping up the curry sauce before moving onto the next dish. In all, it was excellent, but Paul remained troubled by Hal’s behavior and, as their spacecraft had three days before its supposed arrival at Clarion, he judged this a good time to clear the air. Or, at least, try to.
Clarion: The Sequel to Voyage (Paul's Travels) Page 31
