by Rod Little
Shane looked again at the plaques.
That's a load of bull, he judged, touching the metal with his finger. It was cold and corroded. Comfort in discovery, my ass!
“This feels bad,” Stu said. “What about the scientist – Walter. He's still on the station.”
“That robot is with him. They'll be fine.”
He did know that Bem was capable, but he still felt butterflies churning his stomach. The young leader turned to face his people in the dim light of the port chamber.
“If everyone could please find a seat. The ship is big, and there's more than enough room for everyone. We don't need to be crammed into this loading bay.”
Someone called out, “We want to know what the plan is. What's going on?”
I'm saving your life. That's what's going on!
“We're exploring ways to defend ourselves, to stop those... things. Centipedes. Whatever. But we're safe here, while we try to figure it out.”
“Where are we going to?” Someone else asked. “Not back to Earth.”
Shane bounced looks of uncertainty off Stu and Camila. They didn't know how much they should tell these people. Hysteria and panic could quickly become their worst enemy.
“I'm not sure,” he said weakly. It sounded bad, even to him, like a politician dodging a question about tax evasion.
The crowd erupted with murmurs of speculation and fear. Everyone had an opinion.
Again Camila broke loud in with a strong, steady voice: “I need to ask everyone to please find a place and sit down or lie down. There are beds and crew quarters, you know. Try to relax. We have good people looking into this. Margaret here is a great scientist. She'll figure it out.”
Walter's wife briefly looked startled at those words. No one had told her that she needed to save the day. However, she hid it quickly and gave the group a reassuring smile. It felt fake to her, but it looked real enough to the others, and that's all that mattered.
The antique ship started to make strange noises. The sound of metal turning against metal. The air vents began to blow more oxygen into the room. A buzz, and then a hum from the engines. Lights dimmed, then flared again. The old bird was ancient, but was not yet dead. It hadn't seen passengers in decades, and it wheezed and coughed, but it lived. It was a dinosaur trying to wake up after a long sleep.
Shane leaned into Stu and Camila. “You sure this bucket can fly?”
“Ain't sure of anything,” Stu said. He wasn't lying. They were all running blind into this one.
“Okay then. Start her up.”
Chapter 33
Bohai pressed the pulsing green box against the ship's photovoltaic sensors. The box continued to glow, radiating an eerie blossom of light in the otherwise dark room. The ball inside the box hummed with a very low, almost imperceptible whir – similar to the buzz of a bee in search of pollen. The sensors reacted immediately and started feeding off the new power source.
“Forest for the trees,” Bohai muttered. “It was right in front of us, and we couldn't see it. A huge power source locked in our med lab, while we just float dead in space like morons. We are idiots.”
“The irony is not lost on me,” Dexter said. “Verbalizing it does not assist us. Please continue without talking. I need to hear the engines.”
“Why?”
“I am listening for anomalies. This is a foreign power source. We do not know how it will affect the ship.”
Bohai continued pressing the box against the sensors and kept his comments to himself. The two men were alone in the engine bay.
Sam's voice crossed the intercom: “1% charged.”
The lights kicked back on.
“Now at 2%, guys.”
Dexter instructed Bohai to stop charging at 3% and to replace the box in the secure vault in the med lab. They only needed enough power to dock.
“Start the engines,” he ordered into the intercom.
The engines thrummed to life, and fortunately they sounded healthy and right, at least within acceptable limits.
Dexter strode back to the control room, and took the helm. He cock his eye at the two ships still closing in on them, and estimated their time was fleeting. Few grains left in the hour glass.
The Praihawk jumped to life again and sailed toward the Starbase 21 docking bay. Initially the bay doors did not open; but when the ship nudged into them, sensors triggered an emergency sequence. The Praihawk was identified as a friendly vessel, and the doors slid open.
The hangar lay wide open and dark.
“First ship is now in firing range,” Sam whispered. He bit his nails, as the seconds ticked by.
Dexter docked the ship deliberately, but delicately, sliding it into the gloomy hangar. After they cleared the space doors, the metal guardians slid shut, locked and sealed them in. No one had fired on them.
Sam could hear his friends breathe out in relief. A pound of stress faded away. They were safely back home, and relieved to be there. Starbase 21 never felt so good to the crew.
Teak stayed behind on the ship to guard the Seed, while all the humans prepared to disembark. They geared up and checked the med lab locks one last time.
The five humans left the ship, Sheni still in electronic handcuffs – a silent, sullen woman – and they entered the empty lightless bay. No noises started, not even the normal sounds of the station's mechanical elements. When they punched the keypad to enter the station, a message appeared on the LED panel.
:: CREATURS ON STATN :: CAREFUL ::
“A message for us,” Sam said. He tapped the LED panel, but it didn't respond. He felt for a button; there was none – no way to reply to the message. “The Saratu are here, alright. Just as we thought. Damn.”
“Keep your voice down,” George warned. “And get behind me. Stop fidgeting.”
The door slid aside, and George entered first. He peered keenly into the darkness, and listened, then motioned for the others to follow. The station felt chilly but not cold, like an unheated garage in the fall.
“Quickly now, we must get to the power room,” Dexter said. His voice echoed in the giant hollow chamber that formed the hallway out of the docking zone.
They broached the first corridor of the station, and Sam was reminded of the first time they had come here. It had a familiar spooky feel to it, and this time he drew out his gun and held it in his hand. The air was stale, a sign that no new air had been circulating for a while. Life support may or may not be running, but ventilation was down. Either way, due to the size of the station, considerable amounts of oxygen remained inside its confines. It would take weeks for them to suffocate.
“We need to go down one deck, right?” Dexter asked, but he already knew. He felt his way along the wall with both hands. “To the power room.”
“Yes. I think so,” Bohai confirmed. He and Dexter had studied the station manuals more than anyone. “One level down. No lift power, so I guess we go for the stairs. Follow me.”
Always too confident, Bohai did not have his weapon drawn, but held only a flashlight. He led them quietly toward the stairwell at the center of the hall. George, ever the soldier, held a rifle in his hands and had two pistols strapped to his belt. Dexter carried a revolver, and Sheni was cuffed and still sullen.
George turned to her, and said, “If you scream, shout out, or do anything to put us in danger, I will put you down like a rabid dog. Make no mistake, you're expendable here, lady.”
She is not necessarily expendable, Dexter reflected. We may need her help later. But he kept silent. He understood the need to threaten her into good behavior.
One by one, they climbed down the service stairs to the lower level. When they had all reached the platform, George asked an important question:
“Those ships out there haven't fired on the station yet. If they do, what will happen? Can the station withstand it?”
“There is no power,” Dexter answered. “Without power, there are no shields. So I think damage is inevitable. They are capable of bl
owing holes in the structure and sucking us out into space. Let's hope their curiosity keeps them from the latter, from shooting at all.”
“There's also a chance they could board the station,” Bohai said. “I think that's a bigger concern right now. We need to get the power on, shields up, and find out where everyone else is. Where are our people?”
“Upper levels, I assume,” Sam said. “Let's get moving. The sooner the lights are on, the better. It's freaking me out.”
Taking soft steps to avoid any extra noise, they slipped down the hall and found the power supply room. The doorway was jammed open. Someone or something had already broken in to cut off the power, and left scratch marks on the door frame and walls.
George and Bohai stood behind Dexter with two flashlights, as Dexter entered the power room and started examining the wall of power circuits and a labyrinth of mechanisms connected to them. Dexter started tracing the wires and connecting them back together.
“You were right,” he said. “The creatures chewed the wires. Severed the connections.”
“Can you reconnect them?” George asked.
“Of course I can, but I need a minute.”
Sam stayed in the corridor and darted glances back and forth nervously at the shadows. He thought he heard the familiar clicking sounds of the Saratu, but they soon wafted away.
My imagination, I hope.
“Hurry up in there guys. It's not brain surgery. Just flip the switch on.”
Bohai poked his head out of the doorway and said, “A moment of your time, please. If you don't mind, Dexter says he needs your help.”
“My help?” Sam joined the others in the power room, and immediately felt safer. George stood in the hall to keep watch this time.
“What do you need?”
“I've connected most of the wiring,” Dexter said. “But I need to solder these two connections here. I have the solder – there are spools of it in the cabinet – but I need your...”
“My spark?”
“I'd do it myself, but I'm a bit low on spark these days. Can you oblige me?”
“Sure.”
Sam lit up his finger with a blue flame and held it six inches from the wires and solder that Dexter held in place. He sent a tiny hot spark to the solder point and welded the connections. After repeating the process on two other links, he pretended to blow his finger out like a candle.
Bohai whistled. “That is so cool.”
Dexter opened another panel and flipped two switches. A hum pulsed through the station. Power began to course back through Starbase 21, bringing the metal beast back to life.
“Careful,” Bohai warned. “Don't overload the circuits. Only two at a time.”
“I am aware of this,” Dexter said, annoyed at audacity of the comment.
I was rerouting circuits before you were born, kid, he thought. Back on Neptune.
He flipped two more switches, then two more. The lights sprung to life in the hallway, and then in the power room, sending all shadows back into hiding. The song pitch of the station rose another octave. All the systems were coming back on line, including ambient air circulation, and Starbase 21 had a heartbeat once more.
They waited to see if the lights and commotion might wake the Saratu, if any were indeed on the station. Nothing moved; nothing made a sound. Only the station had come alive – nothing else. Yet.
“What now?” Sam asked.
Bohai answered, “Now we find the others and get some answers. I want to know what's happened since we left.”
“Control room, first,” Dexter said. “We need to get those shields up.”
“Right. Follow me.”
They followed Bohai to the lift at the end of the hall and stepped inside. Again Sam had a feeling of deja vu. The doors snapped shut and took them up into the core of the station.
The main deck was empty – no sign of life.
This was not what they had expected. They had assumed that the rest of their friends would be waiting there in the dark, and then jumping into action now that the lights were back on. They expected to see clues of some kind about what happened here, but instead it was only a hollow deck. No people. Not even Bem had remained.
“No blood, at least,” George stated. When the others looked at him, he added, “I'm just saying it's a good sign. No severed arms or remains. Weird, the silence, but 'no blood' is a good thing.”
“I'll second that,” Sam said. “Should we call out to them? Or use the intercom?”
“Not yet,” Bohai said. He had a bad feeling about this. “Come on. Check the bridge, first.”
The station's bridge also lay empty, but its systems were back up and running, and alarms were sounding at two stations – sharp high-pitched beeps. Bohai activated the shields, which calmed one of the alarms, and then he manually turned off the other.
The screens showed the two Sayan ships still hovering not far from the station. Their intent was still unknown, as was the status of their crew. With the shields up, the enemy would be unable to dock.
Sheni rushed forward and frantically flipped a dozen buttons on the communications panel.
“The Seed is here, in the docking bay, come and get me, and get it–– .”
George yanked her away from the panel roughly with one strong hand, and threw her to the ground. She got up and charged him, but he stopped her with little effort: a quick palm to her chin and she fell back to the floor. She was dazed and half-conscious, but unharmed. George pointed a rifle at her face and waited to see her next move.
Dexter calmly shut the communications system off and said, “Those weren't even the right comm channels. You just sent a message to the lounge area and sleeping decks.”
“But now we know we can't trust her,” Sam said.
“We always knew that. But now we'll need to tie her up.”
“Sorry, lady,” George said, as he violently dragged her out into the hall. “You won't be joining the rest of our tour. Gonna have to find some rope for you.”
He rummaged through the cabinets and found a spool of wire. Bohai helped him drag Sheni to the observation deck outside the bridge, where they tied her to a chair that was bolted to the floor. She was still barely conscious from the blow to the chin.
A familiar clicking echoed from the hall.
“Saratu,” Bohai whispered. “Let's go.”
Back on the bridge, Dexter was still checking the station for heat signatures. He had found a cluster on the top deck, and they assumed this was their people.
“Another small cluster is gathering nearby, down the hallway from us,” Dexter said. “They're not far, closing in fast.”
Bohai nodded. “Saratu creatures. We heard them. Can you tell how many?”
“Uncertain, but it looks like seven or eight.”
“We need to go up,” Sam said. “We'll search the upper decks to find my brother, and hopefully find everyone else, too. Bizarre, no one is here.”
They left the bridge and started toward the lift. The sounds of the creatures could faintly be heard, their clicking cascading through the halls. George pointed toward Sheni, still tied in a chair near the observation window.
“And her?”
“She's on her own till we find the others,” Dexter said callously.
“If the creatures come, she'll have no defense.”
“You want to give her a gun?”
“Hell no! But we can't just leave her here to be eaten.”
Sam and Bohai agreed.
“We have to take her along,” Sam said.
Dexter sighed heavily, a bit more angrily than he intended. “You three are exhausting, really. She tried to kill us. She double crossed us, and no one knows what else is on her agenda! And you care if she gets fed to the Saratu?”
“Yeah,” Sam said. “We kinda do.”
“This is why you lost your planet,” Dexter ranted. “Too soft. You're all too soft. But fine, go untie her and bring her along. Give her some cake and tea, while you're at
it! But I'm warning you now: I have no problem shooting her the next time she pulls a stunt, any stunt that puts us at risk.”
“That's fair enough,” George said.
They untied Sheni from the chair, but kept the cuffs on her wrists. George clamped a tight grip on her arm as they walked, and threatened her with a painful right cross if she sneezed an inch out of line. She didn't seem to care, still a sullen mask that was hard to read.
In the stealthiest mode they could muster, they crept toward the elevators while listening for the clicks of the Saratu. Still the humans could not determine the creatures' location, or whether or not they – or anyone – were aware of the Praihawk crew. The Saratu moved through the network of ducts on an agenda of their own, and whether or not that included attacking the new arrivals was anyone's guess.
The lift arrived and took them several floors up to where the cluster of heat signatures had massed according to the scanners. With no mobile means to track them, the crew could only go by what they had seen on the monitors before leaving the bridge.
“Let's hope our friends don't shoot us on sight,” Sam said. “I still think we should have used the intercom. You know, let them all know it's us in here.”
George disagreed. “Best to stay quiet for now. We don't know who else might be on the station. And we sure as hell don't know what happened while we were gone.”
As soon as they stepped out of the elevator chamber, the clicking started. The first Saratu slid around the corner and raced toward the humans. Another, then a third bounded toward them, all six legs of each scratching against the floor. George fired his pulse rifle twice and took two of them down, severing their heads from their bodies. Dexter fired his pistol and took the eye out of the third. It thrashed and hit its head against the wall. Dexter fired again, and the creature fell dead.
“So much for keeping quiet,” George muttered. “It's a safe bet the station knows we're here. And any people, critters, or space bats.”
Dexter waved his hand forward. “Straight up there. The cluster of heat signatures was in the atrium. See if they're still in there.”
It occurred to Sam that this was the first time he had been up here at the top of the Starbase. It was a smaller floor with few amenities and only a dozen rooms – sleeping quarters and storage rooms – but it also housed the great stargazing atrium. It struck him odd that he never took the time to come up here and view the stars.