Galleon

by CJ Williams

  As the second hand of the large clock on the side wall neared the top, Kirby held up five fingers and silently counted them down for Russell.

  “Welcome back, everyone,” Russell said. “We have breaking news coming in right at this moment, from IGDSS. That’s government speak for the Inter-Global Distress and Safety System based in Chicago.”

  “Aren’t they the people who monitor the crash beacons for spacecraft?” Cassie asked.

  “That’s right,” Russell replied, and began reading the details on the teleprompter. “In this case, we’re talking about the Solar Princess, the popular space liner of the Star Group, the largest cruise line on Earth—or any other planet, for that matter.”

  “Where is it right now?” Cassie asked.

  “That’s still being determined at the moment. The Solar Princess was on its way to Wheelers Bright, and IGDSS is now reporting that over fifty of its lifeboat transponders have gone off. That indicates the cruise ship may be experiencing a significant problem.”

  “Is everyone okay?” Katelynn asked.

  “Well, we’re not really sure at this point. Those emergency beacons do not normally transmit unless there has been an impact or the lifeboat is ejected from the mother ship. We’ll have to wait until more information is available.”

  Katelynn gave a little shiver. “I took a cruise on that ship just last year. There were so many people. It took an entire day just to get everyone on board.”

  Cassie glanced at the statistics on the teleprompter. “They say the Solar Princess can carry up to twenty thousand people. If something has happened, this will make it the biggest transportation disaster ever.”

  “And have the biggest impact around the world,” Russell said. “It is always the human dimension that is the big story. If you start with twenty thousand people, that would mean six degrees of separation could affect almost everyone on the planet.”

  Katelynn gasped and her eyes grew wide. “I wish you hadn’t said that. I think I know someone on the Solar Princess.”

  “Who is it?” Russell asked.

  Katelynn shook her head, and Cassie answered instead. “Don’t ask that question, Russ. This isn’t a parlor game.” She took one of Katelynn’s hands and said, “Don’t worry about it for now, Katie. Let’s just all hope for the best.” Cassie turned to the camera. “Joining us now is Colonel Matthew Singleton, who can tell us what these initial indications could mean…”

  *.*.*.*

  Carol Cartwright sat on the bed beside her granddaughter and concentrated on breathing evenly. She was still recovering from her panic since news of the Solar Princess appeared on television. Not until the video from Gus showed up could she slow her heartbeat to a manageable rate. She was watching her husband’s latest message for the third time.

  Her granddaughter, Grace, muted the playback. “Grandpa is fine,” Grace said reassuringly. She was stretched out beside her grandmother with her splinted leg atop a pile of pillows. “You can tell he’s fine because his videos are boring as ever.”

  “Don’t say that, Squid,” Carol replied softly. “His videos aren’t boring, they’re informative. He wants us to know he’s okay.”

  Grace unmuted the volume on the TV screen in her bedroom. Her grandfather was listing the survival rations he had found in one of the storage compartments on his lifeboat.

  “So that makes eight cases of beef stew, six cases of breakfast bars, thirty-seven packages of…”

  Grace hit the mute button again to silence the verbal inventory. “Sorry, Nana. When it comes to video blogs, Grandpa is the definition of boring. But I agree. At least he’s in good shape and has plenty of food. I wonder how long before they pick him up.”

  *.*.*.*

  Gus removed the last screw from the cover plate of the transponder module. He lay on the floor on his back, halfway under the main console of the lifeboat’s helm. For the past two days, Nineteen had painstakingly guided him through diagnostic protocols in an effort to correct problems with the transponder.

  After running all the tests, rebooting several times, and trying every troubleshooting procedure he could think of, Gus started testing for continuity along the electronic pathways. It was a dicey process at best, especially without the sophisticated analytical tools he typically employed in such efforts. When that proved fruitless, he had no alternative but to pull the actual transponder module from inside the avionics compartment. It was located on the bay’s forward bulkhead, so to reach the module he had to work around two equipment racks.

  He put the screws in a small, out-of-the-way cap and pulled off the cover plate.

  “The damn thing’s empty,” Gus growled. “Someone removed the entire module.”

  “That would explain the lack of signal,” Nineteen said.

  “I guess so! What I want to know is how does something like this even happen? How many laws did this outfit break?”

  *.*.*.*

  Sam Kirby, the Studio 37 floor manager, gave a five-fingered countdown to Russell and Cassie.

  “Good morning everyone,” Russell announced. “We’re here today with Colonel Matthew Singleton, who is also a former inspector for the Space Transportation and Safety Board to give us the latest information concerning the space disaster four days ago. As was reported yesterday, it appears that some rather essential equipment was missing from many of the lifeboats. Matt, I’m sure most of the passengers from Solar Princess and their families are wondering how something like this ever happened?”

  Singleton held out both hands, palm up, in a gesture of disbelief. “Obviously, it never should. Until yesterday, I would have said it was impossible. Incompetence of this magnitude is unbelievable, especially in this day and age. By the time the STSB completes their investigation, I’d say criminal charges are inevitable.”

  Cassie cut in before Singleton could continue. “Matt, I want to go into that further in a minute, but first, could you explain a little more fully what exactly did happen here? Why can’t we locate all the passengers?”

  “Of course, Cassie. As you have reported, IGDSS only registered ninety-three crash beacons from the original disaster, and that was out of five hundred seventy-one lifeboats that the Solar Princess was equipped with. That’s why we initially assumed the worst; that we had lost almost eighteen-thousand people.”

  “But it wasn’t that bad?” Cassie prompted.

  “Not at all. When the military arrived at the scene yesterday morning, they found hundreds of lifeboats, most of them completely full.”

  “So how many passengers survived?” Russell asked.

  “We don’t have the final number yet, but the latest estimates are that there were perhaps two dozen fatalities in the disaster. These are soft numbers, you understand. We still have several people unaccounted for.”

  “What does that mean exactly?” Cassie asked.

  “Frankly, it means we don’t know where everyone is. Like I said, most of the lifeboats were not even equipped with their transponders and navigation systems. It appears there was a recall of that particular module, and for some reason, the Star Group maintenance section pulled the old ones before they had the replacement units on hand.”

  “Is that standard procedure?” Cassie wondered aloud.

  “Exactly the opposite,” Singleton replied. “That’s why I expect this will be looked at as criminal negligence or worse. It’s hard to imagine how many lawsuits are going to come out of this.”

  “Hold on a minute,” Russell said. “What do you mean we don’t know where everyone is? Aren’t all the lifeboats near the crash scene?”

  Singleton shook his head somberly. “No. Several survivors reported that during the evacuation the Solar Princess went into lightspeed, which—”

  “Why would they do that?” Russell interrupted.

  “They wouldn’t intentionally. The most likely cause is that the fire in the engineering section caused secondary malfunctions. In other words, a false signal probably initiated a throttle comman
d to the space drives, sending the vessel into lightspeed. That means an unknown number of lifeboats, and we are still trying to determine how many, must have ejected while traveling faster than light.”

  “Is that even possible?”

  “Well, it’s certainly not a recommended procedure. To my knowledge, it’s never even been tested.”

  “Does that mean they’re close to Wheelers Bright?” Cassie asked.

  “Unlikely,” Singleton replied. “The fact is they could be anywhere. IGDSS reports they have received transponder beacons from multiple locations. And those are from transponders that were working. We’re not sure how many lifeboats jettisoned without transponders or navigation systems. We may never find everyone who was on the Solar Princess.”

  “But we’ll keep trying, right?” Cassie wanted to know. “I mean, there must be a lot of families that are going crazy.”

  “For the time being, the Star Group will certainly keep trying. They have a legal obligation to do so. The good news is that as far as we can tell, the subspace communication system in all the lifeboats are functional. People are calling home, sending messages that they’re alive.”

  “Do the lifeboats know their own location?” Russell asked.

  “They should by now,” Singleton said. “All lifeboat AI systems are programmed to take photos of space in their area and send them back. Over the years we have established very accurate star maps of the visible section of our galaxy. By using triangulation, the IGDSS analysts should be able to figure out where all the survivors are. In the meantime, the cruise line employees will take care of the passengers. Every lifeboat has at least one crew member aboard.”

  Cassie shivered. “I can’t imagine being out there in space like that, lost and alone. I wonder how people are even coping. If it were me, I’d make everyone sing to keep spirits up.”

  Russell shook his head at his co-anchor. “Only you would think of something like that, Cass.”

  *.*.*.*

  Gus belted out the final line of an old campfire song with gusto, drawing out the last note for as long as his breath would hold.

  “An interesting rendition,” Nineteen said. “Is it a popular song?”

  “Not these days,” Gus admitted. “Last time I sang it was at Boy Scout camp and that was a long time ago, that much I can tell you.”

  “Understood. We are approaching the decision point for atmospheric penetration. Have you decided on your course of action?”

  “You’re sure the air down there is breathable?”

  “Absolutely. All lifeboats are equipped with two JRX-13 sampling probes for precisely this situation. You saw the probe results. Planet Two has a nitrogen-oxygen atmosphere almost identical to Earth. Additionally, the analysis found no bio-hazards of any kind.”

  “That’s an awful lot of water,” Gus temporized. He had spent hours looking down at the planet during their approach. Other than the swirling clouds the globe was entirely blue.

  “Indeed. The planet is ninety-nine percent covered by ocean. However, my radar scans have identified multiple island chains. Our intended destination is an archipelago in the southern hemisphere. It may be colder than you like but the weather on this world is particularly harsh in the equatorial latitudes due to near constant cyclonic activity. My analysis is that the point of intended touchdown is the least hazardous, and of course that is also the location of the alien transmitter.”

  “What would you recommend?” Gus asked. “Stay in orbit or land?”

  “My programming is always to land on the nearest habitable planet. Studies show that long-term survival is higher on the surface than to remain in space. Granted, those conclusions are based on a full contingent of thirty-five passengers. Since you are the lone occupant, you could conceivably survive on existing rations for over a standard year. Additionally, you seem well adjusted to being on your own.”

  “That’s true, but I’m still feeling awful cooped up inside this tin can; no offense.”

  “None taken.”

  “Any word from our friend on the planet?”

  “Not yet. The download is complete, but I suspect it will require a certain amount of time to assimilate the information and establish an English translation capability.”

  From Gus’s perspective, there really wasn’t any choice. He didn’t want to stay in orbit any longer. “All right, then,” he said. “You have my authorization to land on that island as long as I can still send messages back home.”

  “Acknowledged. I confirm that being on the surface has no impact on subspace communication. Initiating atmospheric entry. You should buckle into the pilot’s seat. I estimate touchdown in less than an hour.”

  The engine ignited twice during the following hour, each time for a few brief seconds. The blue planet grew until it filled the front windscreen. A burst from the attitude jets oriented the capsule, so the wide bottom of the fuselage faced down to accept the heat of re-entry.

  The ride through the atmosphere was bumpy but quickly settled into a steep, relatively smooth, glide. Gus watched through the windscreen anxiously as the unending blue ocean went on forever.

  His patience grew strained. “Are we there yet?” he shouted. “That water is getting pretty damn close.”

  “Please relax,” Nineteen responded calmly. “We are descending through one hundred thousand feet above sea level. The island is two degrees left of my nose at a distance of ninety-seven-point-three miles. You will be able to see it any moment.”

  Gus leaned over the control panel, trying to spot the small patch of ground. He saw a minuscule dot on the horizon, a dark speck in the midst of infinite blue. “That’s it?” Gus yelped. “I thought it was going to be like Hawaii! That thing is too small to land on!”

  Nineteen’s tone took on a slight tone of forbearance. “The word small is a relative term. In this instance, I suggest it is because we are so far away. Please calm yourself. Eighty miles to go.”

  Gus took several deep breaths and concentrated on slowing his pulse rate. It wouldn’t do to survive a lightspeed ejection only to have a heart attack just before landing. For one thing, Carol wouldn’t appreciate it. Thinking of home helped him relax. “Hey, Nineteen. Let’s send a video of our landing. Let my wife know we got down okay.”

  “Acknowledged,” Nineteen said. “Recording started. Fifty-seven miles to landing. We are at sixty thousand feet and descending.”

  Gus could make out the island now. The eastern end jutted up above the sea. The interior was obscured by weather, but he spotted a speck of green near the base of the higher elevation.

  “Twenty miles. Deploying drogue chute.”

  “Drogue chute?” Gus said, feeling a slight tug on the lifeboat. “What the hell is that about? We’re not even down yet.”

  “Our speed is much too fast to land safely on such a small piece of ground. The main chute will deploy momentarily to arrest our forward velocity and allow us to make a vertical touchdown. Prepare yourself.”

  “Hang on. What do you mean prepare—”

  “Main parachute deploying.”

  A rapid-fire series of sharp retorts sounded as explosive knives severed the bolts holding the Emergency Air Descent Landing Package in its storage compartment. The drogue chute pulled the stadium-sized main parachute free of its housing on the lifeboat’s spine and the canopy filled instantly.

  The sudden deceleration caught Gus off guard, and his face smacked painfully against the console. By the time the stars cleared from his vision and he got his nose to stop bleeding, they had landed. The impact was hard enough to make his back ache.

  The lifeboat intoned, “Touchdown at 09:37 GMT. I sent the video of our successful landing to your YouTube channel. Congratulations on your arrival. We know you have a choice for your travel arrangements, and we appreciate that you selected the Star Group for your journey. Please think of us next time you fly into space.”

  *.*.*.*

  Carol Cartwright pried Grace’s fingers away from th
e deathlike grip on her upper arm. It hurt, but she was more concerned by her granddaughter’s expression.

  “Are you all right, Squid? You don’t look too good.”

  Grace swallowed as though trying not to throw up. “That’s a lot of blood. Is Grandpa okay?”

  “From the way he’s swearing at the lifeboat, I imagine he’s just fine. At least he’s on the ground and can get outside. If he were stuck in that tiny ship for any longer, he’d go crazy. I feel a lot better and you should too.”

  Grace clicked off the TV. “Can we just skip the rest of this video?”

  “You’ve skipped almost all of them,” Carol chided gently. “He’s mentioned you several times, you know. He won’t admit it, but he misses you just as much as me.”

  Grace rolled her eyes. “I don’t think so. You’re the only person in his universe.”

  “I suspect there are one or two more than that. You and your mom, for starters.”

  “What’s going to happen now, Nana? Will Star Lines be able to find him? Is that what you’re working on? Will the aliens abduct him?”

  Carol ignored the last question. When Gus so casually agreed to establish communication with the alien AI, she had worried about it. After all, it was alien. But then again, what else could he do? If a little green man could bring her husband home, she would invite him to stay for coffee.

  She flipped open her laptop to continue reviewing the court filing that one of her associates had prepared. Her firm, Cartwright, Tillman, and Hawley, was demanding that Star Group Corporation spend every penny necessary to track down all the missing passengers.

  “The Star Group better hope they find him,” Carol said to her granddaughter. “And yes, that’s what I’m working on. We filed a class-action against them three days ago because the language coming out of their corporate headquarters is about passing the buck. I want a full accounting of every single passenger. Now that your grandfather has landed, we need to bring him back.”

  2 – The Island

  “An exile, saddest of all prisoners, who has the whole world for a dungeon strong, seas, mountains, and the horizon’s verge for bars.”