The Boneyards of Nebula

by Rod Little

Chapter 23

  The space-walk suits were heavier and more cumbersome than the hazmat-style suits. Sam, Bohai and George entered the back bay and sealed it off from the rest of the ship. George poised at the front, ready with a blaster rifle in his two hands and two pistols on his belt. He wasn't actually sure they would work in space, but the more weapons at his side, the better. Or so he felt.

  “Remember not to shoot the ship with that thing,” Bohai said. “It'll rip a hole in the hull.”

  “I got this,” George said. “I can shoot a rat off a tank hood from two miles. So I'm sure I can shoot these critters off the hull from a few feet. The ship won't feel a thing. Now... activate your magnetic boots.”

  George pounded his fist against the door actuator, and the double doors parted wide. Instantly the vacuum of space tugged at them, but their boots kept their feet in place.

  Immediately a Saratu scrambled into the doorway, and briefly George wondered how they could stay on the ship without floating away. That thought did not distract him from his duty, though, and he fired the pulse rifle, which sent the creature flying backward in a tailspin – in two pieces.

  George marched though the door and onto the side of the ship. He plodded toward the top of the frame, and fired his rifle at the first showing of a bony Saratu head. He sent the creature flying off the hull. Then he fired again and again, and two more creatures crumbled to their deaths and floated away. It seemed they could only stay fixed to the ship while alive – a type of organic suction on their paws.

  “Come on up,” he said into his helmet microphone.

  Sam and Bohai climbed clumsily up the side of the ship. Sam found it especially difficult, lacking the leg muscles and upper-body strength the other two men enjoyed. He grunted and puffed his way to the top. No other Saratu bothered them. The ship's topside looked clean at this point.

  They continued to walk down the other side and onto the wing of the ship. Each step was like pulling one's legs through deep mud or quicksand; the magnetic boots had a strong pull.

  Now all three of them stood at the tip end of the port wing. They stared out at the vastness of space – a frightening vision – and the whale ship at least two hundred yards away.

  Like jumping the Grand Canyon, Sam thought. He felt his toes curl.

  “I'll go first,” Bohai said, and did not wait for confirmation. He wanted to get this over with, so he leaped forward toward the Blue Orca's eye. The momentum carried him halfway, then he activated the boot thrusters from his glove – a bit too hard – and he sailed quickly toward the great ship.

  “Too fast,” Dexter's voice said over the speakers in his helmet. “You need to pump the thrusters lightly.”

  Too late. Bohai slammed hard into the ship and clung to a bar jutting from its side, a tooth in the Orca's mouth. He was not badly injured, but his sides were bruised from the impact. There he clung, twenty feet below the eye, catching his second wind.

  This time he only tapped the boot thrusters, which sent him gliding upward. When he reached the iris, he grabbed it and pulled himself inside. His magnets took hold a few feet inside the chute that formed the Eye door.

  “You okay, man?” Sam asked. “That looked terrifying.”

  “I'm okay, Sam, but you need to pump the power very short. Very light. I held it too long. Just give it a tap.”

  Sam turned to George, and asked, “Is it too late to chicken out?”

  “Yes,” George said, and pushed Sam off the ship, sending him spinning toward the whale.

  Sam primed his thrusters very lightly and sailed easily toward the Blue Orca. He bumped its side lightly and caught a tooth, same as Bohai had. Now he hit the thrusters again for the rise to the eye, but he had acquired too much confidence from his easy crossing. He pumped too hard, and ascended too fast, past the eye. Within seconds he was at the top of the Orca, but a few feet out of its reach.

  He spun into blank space.

  “Pull your legs up!” Dexter shouted. “Do a somersault and get to the side of the ship.”

  But it was too late. Sam had already missed it. He was gliding twelve feet above the ship and moving further away by the second. Here he would float until he died, unless someone rescued him soon.

  “Turn!” Dexter yelled. “Sam, you need to somersault and turn upside down. You need to thrust back to the ship. This time only use the wrist thrusters. Got it?”

  Sam did as instructed, and managed to get upside down. The thrust from the wrist bracelets was much lighter. He slowly glided back to the whale, and then to its eye. When he reached the iris, Bohai grabbed his hand and yanked him into the Eye tube.

  George was much more skilled at this, and pushed himself to within three feet of the eye. He only needed to clamp his magnetic boots to the ship's side and walk himself into the eye on his own.

  “Showoff,” Sam muttered.

  The three men crawled through the tube toward the inner end. Halfway through, the outer iris shut again, locking them inside the tube. Bohai looked back anxiously, and Sam shrugged. They continued forward to the inner door. Fortunately, it opened automatically when Bohai touched it. They spilled out of the tube and onto the floor of a small room. Then the eye sealed itself completely from the outside before opening a second door into a dark hallway. They stood up and stumbled into the long dim corridor. The second door clipped shut behind them.

  “We're in,” George reported into his microphone.

  Dexter's voice, heavy with static, said, “Activate the cameras. I want to see.”

  Bohai activated his helmet's light and camera. Dexter would be able to see what they were seeing as they explored the Blue Orca. The others did the same, but the three beams of light didn't help much. The hallway was pitch black, and the slim beams only showed metal walls that led to a control panel.

  “Dark as hell in here,” Sam complained. “What are we even looking for?”

  “I'll know it when I see it,” Dexter's voice crackled. “Get to the main bridge and turn on the lights.”

  “You think this ship still has power?” Bohai asked.

  “Let's find out.”

  They continued down the hall to a doorway that snapped halfway open, then stuck. George pried it open a bit wider to allow them to fit through. They entered; the room was lined with gauges and tubular shaped devices along each wall. Details were lost under the dull light.

  “This might be the life support room,” Dexter said. “Get closer to the equipment. I want to read their nomenclature.”

  He was right. This room housed the air filtration system. But the writings on the main panel said:

  Rue Orca UE201.

  “You see that?” George asked. “It doesn't say Blue Orca. It says Rue Orca.”

  “That's explains why it's not blue,” Sam said with some satisfaction. “Mystery solved. Can we go, now?”

  “No. You three need to split up and cover more ground,” Dexter said. “Explore the whole ship.”

  “He's right,” George said. “I'll move down to the lower decks. Bohai, you go up. And Sam can check out this floor.”

  “Sure, split up,” Sam said. “Because that always works out well in the movies.”

  “Take it easy,” Bohai said. His eyes shifted from the ceiling to walls. “We're safe enough; the ship is empty. But we need to find out if anything interesting was left behind on her. Look for a shiny bauble or a cool doodad that might be a super weapon.”

  “Right,” Sam said. “I'm sure that'll turn out fine, because we all know what a super weapon looks like. Until the Alien hive queen, who by the way has no heat signature, appears from nowhere.”

  “Or a ring of power,” Bohai suggested. “It might be magic. Whatever we're looking for.”

  “True that.”

  George stopped studying the corridor and turned toward Sam. “You guys watch too many movies. Now roll out. We don't have all day for this.”

  There was no power on the ship, none that they could activate. No lights or lifts, so Geo
rge climbed down a maintenance shaft to the deck below them, while Bohai climbed up to the top deck.

  Sam stood alone on the deck at the same level as the eye-door. Encumbered by his suit, he ambled clumsily down the hall. In the quiet emptiness, the fabric swished loudly when he moved.

  He found a small room with no door at all, so he crossed its narrow threshold. His beam of light showed maps along the walls – not digital maps, but real maps that had been drawn with pen and ink. These were star charts, and Sam was betting they charted corners of the universe that had not been seen in centuries. Their images overwhelmed his eyes – perfect lines and circles. He could not understand what they represented, but he was struck with a keen sense of awe. He found himself unable to look away. They hypnotized him.

  “Fascinating,” Dexter's voice sounded in the helmet, and startled Sam. The scientist had been viewing the same charts via the helmet cam.

  Sam's heart thumped loudly. “Don't do that, Dexter. You made me jump.” But the voice did manage to wrench him from the charts. The hypnotic effect was broken.

  “Let me see the rest of the room.”

  He swiveled so his light spanned the four corners. More star charts appeared, and he couldn't resist the temptation to touch one. Tentatively he put a finger on one chart, half expecting it to crumble to dust, but he only touched something that felt like glass. The charts were all sealed behind a clear substance that was completely invisible to the eye. That explained why the charts were so well preserved.

  At last he tore himself from the room, and continued searching the deck.

  Further down the hall, he found a room with doors that would not open. He did his best to pry them apart, but could only get the panels to budge three inches. Wedging his metal boot in the gap, he pushed again with all his strength. The door slid a foot, only to reveal another door behind it. He gave up and continued to the next room.

  As he shuffled down the hall, he could hear the others talking to Dexter on the helmet speakers, talking about their finds: strange equipment, beds and meal quarters, dead computer panels – but no weapons, and no magic chalice. So far, this side mission was a bust.

  And then Sam stumbled into a large circular room with a high ceiling and a strange emblem on its far wall. It was an empty chamber: no chairs, desks, lab benches, or equipment. Only stale air. He pressed a hand against each of the walls, but they felt solid, and no secret doors opened up. He rubbed his fingers along the emblem, but nothing happened. The ceiling was too high to reach, and the walls stood far apart; their surfaces were blank except for the one emblem. A vast hollow chamber with only the feeling of desolation inside. This bothered him; it was too weird, and he quickly left the room.

  A gun shot.

  “What was that? What's happening?” he yelled into the microphone. He heard George say:

  “Talk to me!”

  “Calm down,” Bohai said. “I had to shoot the lock off a cabinet. No worries. It's cool.”

  “Yo! Maybe warn us first, next time,” George's voice said. “By the way, there's not much down here below decks.”

  Sam wanted to rub his eyes, but the helmet prevented it. He was tired from the dim light and the bulky suit. His mind went back to the impenetrable room he had passed up, and now he lumbered back to it. This time he kicked with his boot and forced the doors open two feet, barely enough for his slim body to fit through. There was no seam in the second door, so he pushed hard against it with both hands, and it gave way, swinging in like a traditional hinged door.

  Cautious with each step, he slipped inside and flashed his light around the room. The luminescence revealed more ornate symbols on each wall. Only one object stood in the room, at the center; it was a pedestal – a table with one thick leg holding up a square table top. It looked smooth and gray, like finished granite.

  At first Sam ignored it, instead observing the walls and touching their sides. As in the other rooms, this provoked no reaction and revealed no secret panels, but he could feel a texture through the gloves: the emblems had been engraved in the walls. They felt smooth with wide curves, perfectly crafted.

  Eventually he turned back to the table. He ogled every angle of it intently. It looked normal enough, so he extended a hand. Unlike the walls, the table reacted to his touch: its surface lit up. It glowed yellow and vibrated ever so slightly. He could swear he heard a low hum.

  “Um, Dexter. You see this?”

  “I see it.”

  “What is it? It's the only thing with any power on this ship. But it's not... doing anything. It just lit up. What should I do?”

  “Touch it again.”

  Touch it again. It won't bite. My killer robot likes you, it really does.

  Sam hesitated, extended a hand, then yanked it back.

  “Touch it,” Dexter pleaded.

  Sam relented. “Fine.”

  He reached out and touched the table again, and this time it changed color to orange, a deep hue that visibly pulsed, brighter and faster. The hum raised itself an octave. Also, the colors lifted from the table a few inches and appeared semi-liquid, much like a tray of lava sitting on a tabletop.

  “Very weird,” Sam said. “Tell me what to do, Dexter.”

  “Touch it again.”

  “Are you sure this isn't a self-destruct countdown of some kind?”

  “I am not sure.”

  “Fantastic,” Sam muttered and touched the table again with his gloved hand. The color changed to red and lifted higher. Now it was six inches of solid color, vibrating and humming even louder. The new sound was unpleasant.

  “Okay, Dex, red is bad. Red always means something bad. Red alert... self destruct...”

  “Please calm down. I have asked the others to find you.”

  Sam stared down at the table, but tried to remain calm. He could hear the others talking via their microphones. The boy quelled a panic attack by counting in his head.

  Heavy metal boots: footsteps in the hallway.

  Bohai rushed to the open doors, but had to force them further apart to get inside. He squeezed through, then grabbed Sam by the arm and pulled him away from the table. The two of them backed further from it and hugged the wall. George joined them, after prying the outer doors even wider – he was a big guy – and he gawked at the square piece of furniture.

  “Touch it again,” Dexter said.

  George walked around the table to the top end and extended his glove.

  “Wait!” Sam yelled, but it was too late.

  As soon as George's hand hit the table, it shut down. The light and hum vanished. The room went silent and dark again.

  After a few seconds, Sam stepped forward again and touched the table at the same corner. It lit up yellow as it had done the first time he touched it.

  He uttered his only thought: “Weird.”

  “Let me try something,” Bohai said. He stepped closer and laid a hand on the table near the top end where George had touched it, and the table shut down again. Then he touched a different corner, and the table lit up green.

  “It's a code,” Sheni said over the speakers. “There's a sequence.” She started mumbling a poem in her head, and the others could barely understand any of the words. Then she said clearly: “2112. Two, one, one, two. That's the sequence.”

  “What does that mean?” Sam asked. “There are no numbers on the table. Sorry, but your PIN number won't work... there is no number pad.”

  “Green,” she said. She mumbled to herself again, reciting the poem she felt held all the answers. “Yes, we need it to turn green at three levels.”

  “Listen, green is good, right,” Bohai said. “And this corner made it turn green. So that must be #2. And the top resets it. So, this first corner must be #1. It's like that old Simon Says game.”

  He touched the corner next to it, and the table turned orange and sounded a painful high-pitched tone. Bohai quickly touched the top again, and the table shut down. Now he touched the corner that had worked before as #2; the green
came back. Next he hit the corner on the other side, and it stayed green, but lifted higher. Now he hit that same corner again, and said “Two, one, one...” And he hit the previous corner, “Two.”

  The table fluctuated with each touch, and the green turned into a darker in hue and lifted a foot above the table in a pyramid shape – the sound became soothing, a simple hum. In the center appeared a box made of light. It pulsated.

  “Remarkable,” Dexter said.

  Trying to examine the box, George accidentally leaned against his end of the table, and the whole thing shut down. It went dark again.

  Bohai sighed, and hit the sequence again: 2112. The table lit up green and once more the small box emerged at the top center.

  “That's really smart,” Sam said. “You're brilliant, man. I never would've thought of that.”

  Sheni's voice whispered: “The Oculus Seed.”

  “Dexter,” Bohai said into his microphone. “Something tells me this thing is what you're looking for. So the next question for you is: what do we do with it now?”

  Sheni's voice blared across the radio. “Bring it over. The small box. Lift it.”

  “I'm not sure that's possible,” Sam said. It's just a hologram, I think.”

  He and Bohai touched the box together and lifted it. The box was solid. It was real. When they lifted it up off the table, the holographic green pyramid disappeared, and the table went dark again. The room went dark, except for their three helmet lights.

  Bohai touched the top of the small box, and its lid disappeared. Inside lay a smooth ball. It looked like a giant black pearl that for a moment shimmered green. Perfect in every way. Beautiful.

  When Bohai pulled his hand back, the lid reappeared, hiding its contents.

  “Oh I love this,” George said sarcastically. “A shiny death ball. The reaper's 8-ball. And you want us to bring it back to our ship?”

  “Yes. I do,” Dexter said. He still never understood sarcasm. “Please be careful.”

  George pointed to Sam. “Be careful with the Death Ball, kid.”

  Sam took the box and delicately tucked it into his pocket, then zipped it up. He tapped his pocket lightly with one hand to make sure it was secure.