by C. R. Turner
The couple-thousand-foot-long M1 transitions into a wide guard-railed bridge inside an enormous chamber. The bridge leads to the base of a cylindrical tower, which looks like a high-rise building. Elevated platforms run across to the tower from each of the many levels above us. It must be the central access point. I tilt my face up in awe. The ship still looks brand new, undamaged. I was expecting to see signs of fighting. I direct Max to one of the three-foot-high guard rails, then gawk at the frightful height as I look over the side.
“Why would it be deserted?” Sam asks.
I jump, not having heard her approach, and pull Max away from the edge. I shake my head. This is crazy. It doesn’t make any sense.
“Stinson, Miller, you right?” Bradley’s voice comes over the Core-link.
Both Hurricanes are sitting in a lift at the base of the tower, and Bradley’s waiting at the doors with his hand on his earpiece. Sam and I ride in behind the Hurricanes.
The lift is a strange design – roughly fifty feet in diameter, it doesn’t have a roof, so we can see for hundreds of feet straight up. As it ascends, doors and lights that sit flush with the shaft go flashing past, and we accelerate toward the top of the shaft with great speed. I feel like I just lost thirty pounds as we decelerate. The roof on the shaft itself is some sort of mechanical iris, and I set my Ashra to stun as it opens – if there was ever a place on a ship the occupants would want to defend, it would be the bridge. The lift floor stops flush in the centre of the bridge.
The circular bridge must be some nine hundred feet in diameter with windscreens wrapping through three hundred and sixty degrees, making for an impressive view out over the fore and aft decks. Bradley and Emerson drive the Hurricanes, which don’t even look out of place in the huge open expanse, down one of four ramps fanning out like spokes onto the flight deck. Everyone climbs out.
Sam hands me Jade’s reins and joins her father, Emerson and Taylor at one of the ship’s many consoles. In no time at all, they have the ship powered up. Most of the user interfaces are just touch screens, but we all gawk as a holographic display rises in front of the flight deck consoles. I twist my neck as I follow the display. Other than the interruptions from the ramps, the display wraps around the entire bridge. From the centre, you would have full situational awareness.
I dismount and lead Max and Jade down the forward ramp to the observation level in front of the windscreens.
Bradley raises his voice. “How long till we can land this thing?”
“Ah … half an hour or so,” Marcus replies.
“Or so?” Bradley asks.
“I’ve got to do a full structural analysis after the Timberwolf flew so close to the black hole. If it’s sustained any damage, it could break up on re-entry,” Marcus replies, looking miffed. “Emerson, take a look at some of these numbers.”
I get Max and Jade to lie down, and a little interested to know how they’re going to fly this thing, I approach Sam. When Marcus and Emerson finish their conversation, Marcus joins us.
Marcus selects an icon on the screen and the holograph changes. “All the ship’s consoles have conversational controls. Try not to pay too much attention to the foreign text; it’ll just confuse you. The top row of icons is fuel, collider and power controls. To power up a collider, you just select the icon, then when the display changes, simply select the collider graphic and it will power up.”
Sam shakes her head.
“What?” Marcus asks.
“I still can’t believe how simple the ship’s functions are.”
Marcus grins and nods. “It puts the Union’s control systems to shame.”
As Marcus and Sam drill down into all the ship’s functions, I lose interest and join Bradley looking out over the Timberwolf’s vast deck.
“How are we going to do a full security sweep?” I ask. “It would take weeks.”
Bradley nods. “Marcus, can you do an infrared scan of the ship to see if anyone’s on board?”
“I’ve already tried. They haven’t been commissioned,” Marcus replies.
Bradley lifts his eyebrows and looks at me. “We’ll check out the strategically important sections as planned, the collider and fuel cells, but that’s about all we can do. When we turn the SESS specialists loose, we’ll have to accompany them.”
Hawkins walks over with his Ashra in hand. “Sir, you mind if I tag along when you do a sweep?”
I often forget Hawkins is an engineering specialist. I suppose him being close to seven feet tall, having a short razorback haircut and a large tattoo on his neck still causes me to stereotype.
“Yeah … sure. Once we’re on the ground, we’ll sweep through together.”
I can’t say I’m looking forward to searching the Timberwolf. There must be a million dark corners and corridors. And from past experience, I know evil conspires in the dark corners where no one wants to go.
Chapter 3
The unmistakable sound of a collider starting – similar to the heavy industrial sound a Talon freight ship makes, but on steroids – fills the bridge. I imagine the collider for a Timberwolf must be gigantic. Marcus is being bombarded with questions from Sam, Emerson and Taylor. I suppose he’s as close to an expert on the alien ship as we’ve got. I feel for Sam; we’ve not long completed our training, and she’s been dropped in the deep end once again. I know the feeling well.
As the ship heads toward Barchee, I wonder where we’re going to land. Where do you find over a mile of flat ground?
I look at Hawkins, then Bradley. “Why don’t we just download the Bridgeport catalogue while in space?”
“I asked the same question,” Bradley says. “Marcus assured me, using some pretty colourful language, it would be crazy to attempt connecting an alien piece of hardware to the Explorer while in space.”
Hawkins and I grin.
The Timberwolf accelerates as we enter the atmosphere. The bow wave is like nothing I’ve ever seen before. It’s so huge, it blocks most of our view of the planet. There’s a strange ripping sound, as if the air is being torn apart. The storming bow wave condenses into droplets and showers the forward windscreens. I worry that the ship mightn’t even be designed to land on a planet. I look back at Marcus’ stressed face as my heart races. I wonder if today’s the day we’ve bitten off more than we can chew.
After a few tense minutes, we slow, the bow wave clears, and the Timberwolf levels out. Below us, a calm ocean laps against the foot of sand dunes hundreds of feet high. Marcus and Taylor chat, then we change course, slowing further to a few hundred miles an hour. A vast flat expanse appears on the horizon, and as we get closer, I can tell it’s a salt flat – thousands of acres of white. I don’t feel a thing when we touch down, thanks to the inertial dampeners, but I’m guessing the landing gear’s probably buried now.
“Marcus, where are the collider and fuel cells?” Bradley asks.
“They’re just behind the bridge. You take the lifts down to ”—Marcus reads the screen at his console—“level twenty-five … exit aft end.”
“Can you spare Emerson?” Bradley asks.
“Ah … yeah, I guess,” Marcus replies, lost in thought.
“Taylor, have you calibrated the Timberwolf’s repeaters to our Core-links?”
“Pos, sir. We’ve got full Core-link ops, and I’ve set navigation markers on both the Timberwolf’s bridge and the Cosmic Origin”—Taylor gives Bradley a cheeky smile—“just in case you get lost, sir.”
“Excellent!” Bradley mounts Jade, flicks his head in a gesture for me to follow and ribs Jade into a run. She tears up the ramp toward the lift. I mount Max and hold my arm out for Hawkins. He slings his Ashra, climbs up, and I nudge Max into a trot to catch up.
Bradley dismounts on the lift floor and calls out, “We should be back in a couple hours.”
Marcus yells back, “When can the SESS specialists start looking around?”
“Not till we finish a preliminary security sweep.”
Emerson runs
to catch up. Bradley goes to press the touch screen on the waist-high bollard fixed to the lift floor, but it’s all in a foreign language. He counts the level icons from the bottom of the small screen until he reaches the twenty-fifth, then presses it.
We all have our Ashras in hand when the shaft doors open. The noise of the collider grows louder as we walk a couple hundred feet along the passageway, heading aft. We come to a door and a screen at the end of the passageway. Bradley presses the screen and the door flies open. I gasp, squinting as we’re blasted by intense heat and a heavy industrial sound as if every conceivable machine known to man is running flat out. Bradley remounts and we urge Max and Jade to the edge of the guardrail and look down. The canines become unsettled at the tremendous drop. Nine colliders are stacked on top of each other, forming a huge cylindrical hole through the centre. Walkways wrap around each of the levels, including the top level we’re on.
Bradley shakes his head. “I thought I’d seen it all. You guys take this floor and all the odd levels. We’ll take all the even floors. We’ll meet on ground level.”
Bradley, Emerson and Jade find a ramp nearby and head to the next level down, leaving Hawkins, Max and myself to search the top floor. The noise from the colliders is deafening, and with our Core-link earpieces in, I worry someone might get the drop on us. I keep glancing behind me, my mind racing. The main walkways are fairly well lit, but there are still lots of dark alcoves giving the Timberwolf a creepy feel. I can see why someone would refer to it as a ghost ship.
Hawkins jumps off and disappears into the dark. I remember my training and loosen my grip on my Ashra when I realise how hard I’m clenching it. I keep a sharp eye out as I sit on Max’s back, waiting alone, then jump in fright when there’s a sudden doof sound from the colliders shutting down. I guess they’re not needed now the ship’s on the ground. Hawkins walks back into the light, and I exhale heavily.
“Stinson, you right?” Hawkins asks in his usual deep voice.
“Yeah,” I reply, holding out my arm to help him back up.
“I’m good. I’ll go on foot.”
We search the top floor together before heading to our next allocated level. When we finally make it to the ground floor, Bradley and Emerson are already there. Bradley calls Marcus on the Core-link, gets directions, and it’s not long till we find our way to the fuel cells.
Bradley and I ride Jade and Max while Hawkins and Emerson follow on foot. This area is in near silence, and there’s a welcome chill on my face from ice built up on the fuel cells. Condensation pools on the underside of gurgling pipes and trickles to the ground. As I scan the area a weird noise catches my attention, and I spin around to find Max licking the pipes to get a drink. I laugh and look over at Bradley, then back at Hawkins and Emerson, all with big smiles. Max licks away at the pipes, off in his own little world. I pull on his reins, but he ignores me and just keeps licking.
We follow the fuel cells – three enormous horizontal cylinders with rounded ends, each probably bigger than a Talon freight ship.
“So, where do you fill up a Timberwolf?” I ask Bradley.
“Refuelling starships scavenge hydrogen off the surface of brown dwarfs. I don’t think Timberwolf-class starships have that capability.” Bradley pauses. “Don’t forget to keep an eye out for explosive devices.”
I frown. “Why would someone want to destroy the Timberwolf?”
“The salvage team may have placed an explosive device near the fuel cells as an insurance policy, so to speak.”
We continue across the gangway that runs between the cells before heading back in the general direction of the bridge. Hawkins and Emerson scan the area as they follow on foot. No signs of fighting, no people and no explosive devices. This is so bizarre. It’s like walking through a city void of people.
I turn to Bradley. “Sir, surely there would be an infirmary on the ship?”
“What are you thinking?”
“I just thought if there was a skirmish between the salvage team and the Timberwolf crew, there might be some clues in the infirmary.”
Bradley presses the button on his earpiece. “Marcus, where’s the nearest infirmary to the bridge?”
“Ah … just a sec,” Marcus replies. “There’s one on level twenty-five, starboard side, same level as the top particle collider.”
Twenty minutes later, Bradley, Hawkins, Emerson and I arrive at a door with red writing in a foreign language. It’s funny how red signage is universal for dangerous or important.
Bradley presses the touch screen, but the doors don’t budge. “Marcus, it’s locked.”
“Just a sec …” A good minute goes by before he adds, “It was locked from the inside … you’re good to go.”
We all look at one another. Maybe it’s not a ghost ship after all. The only way I know you can lock a door from the inside is by someone using the touch screen inside the room. Having been in this situation before, and having been shot at, I lead Max and Jade to the side, then check my Ashra’s set to stun. Hawkins and Emerson take up defensive positions on one side of the door, Bradley and I on the other. We turn our Ashra lights on. Bradley signals to us, then hits the touch screen.
The door flies open.
A strong odour of sulphur hits us. That’s not a good smell! We step into the darkness, our Ashras lighting up operating tables, surgical instruments, test tubes, and a microsphere nanoscope. The room is a cross between a laboratory and an ad hoc operating theatre. Bradley finds the room’s touch screen. When the lights come on, something horrific catches my eye – nearly a dozen bodies lying in the corner of the room. They’re still in the decay stage, most of them sitting on the ground in a puddle of their own muck, their backs up against benches. They don’t seem to have been placed there; their positions look too natural. So, I can only assume it’s where they decided to spend their last minutes – for whatever reason. The ship being new, the clinical room and the lifeless vacuum of space have no doubt slowed the decay process by a few days, but the Timberwolf was salvaged years ago. I would have expected just skin and bone by now.
“I don’t get it,” I puzzle. “They’ve only been dead a couple weeks.”
“Don’t forget they would’ve only aged an hour in the Tet system while seven and a half years went by on Terra Primus,” Hawkins replies.
Bradley adds, “That must mean they died just a couple weeks before Marcus stole the Timberwolf off the salvage team.”
Hawkins tilts his head to the side, studying their clothing. “Sir, I haven’t seen these symbols before … but if I were to guess, I’d say they’re military ranks.”
“Why would they all be huddled in here?” Emerson asks.
Bradley shakes his head. “I don’t know.”
Emerson breaks his stare. “Stinson, should we do a quick examination?”
“It’d be a good idea,” Bradley says. “It would be good to know what they died of before returning the ship.”
The room is neat and clean with no signs of fighting – no broken equipment or test tubes, no scorch marks from weapons fire, and none of the bodies have bandages. Could the salvage team have locked them in here and let them starve to death? That doesn’t add up; the stage of decomposition places their time of death before the salvage team even discovered the Timberwolf. That means they came in here of their own accord. Why? Had they quarantined themselves for some reason? Then it dawns on me – I remember seeing whole buildings in Paelagus used for quarantining people during the pandemic. Could we be in danger of a virus?
I do a quick headcount as my adrenaline surges and my breathing quickens. “Negative. We should come back with the hazmat suits.”
Bradley reads my face. “Alright, everybody fall back.”
Once outside, Bradley closes the door behind us.
I face Bradley. “Sorry, sir.”
Bradley frowns. “For what?”
“I should have noticed the danger of a possible pathogen sooner.”
Bradley shakes his
head. “Don’t beat yourself up over it. We’re always sticking our noses into dangerous places.”
“Should you do an autopsy?” Emerson asks. “Now that we’ve completed a preliminary security sweep?”
“I’m not qualified to perform an autopsy, but I would like to come back later and run a few tests … see if I can confirm the presence of a pathogen or chemical agent.”
Bradley nods in agreement and presses the button on his earpiece. “Marcus, how many crew members were there?”
There’s a moment of silence, then Marcus replies, “Ten.”
I look at Bradley. “Found them.”
When we enter the bridge, Marcus, Sam and Taylor are still studying the ship. Bradley, Emerson and Hawkins dismount and Bradley hands me Jade’s reins.
Bradley approaches Marcus’ console. “How long till the Bridgeport catalogue is downloaded?”
Marcus doesn’t even look up. “The replication will be another hour at the current rate.”
“The what?” Bradley asks.
“The replication. It’s not actually a download, that’s a misnomer.”
“Why’s it taking so long?” Bradley asks.
“The BSP stores its information in a liquid core. That information contains just about every star in the galaxy so the Bridgeport can readjust its solution to account for stellar drift. You can’t just drain the liquid core and pump it into the Explorer’s core without destroying the Timberwolf’s core. It has to be replicated. That takes time with the current system. If I was running the SESS instead of that halfwit Ulrich, things would be a lot different. We’d spend more money on this kind of technology, and we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” Marcus’ face has turned red. He stops what he’s doing and looks up. “Can the SESS specialists start looking around now?”