“How’d you get our hatch open?”
“What do you mean? I just unlatched it.”
Lynch’s jaw clenched. “I tried to open it from inside when our communications links were dead. I was gonna enter the space station to use that equipment. But our hatch was stuck. I tried everything and couldn’t release it.”
“Opened right up for me,” Bach said with a shrug.
“Yeah. It opened easier from the outside.” Lynch walked back to the cockpit mumbling, “Now we gotta get this ship operational.” He reported to NASA that all had reunited on the AstroLab which was still running on backup power. During transmission delay, he poked buttons on a hand-held data processor, then looked back through the cabin and yelled to the mingling crew. “Get busy.”
Kaz made a face in Lynch’s direction and whispered like a robot to Bach, “Avoid-human-contact-at-all-costs.”
Still trying to get his bearings, Bach closed his eyes.
Ground Control reported that with the Wizard inoperable, NASA’s communiqué would follow with procedures for Bach to troubleshoot the AstroLab’s main powerplant. Then the six crewmates would leave the Wizard at the space station for retrieval later and would return home together in the Lab.
G.R. wasted no time readying his medical supplies to check Bach’s and Faith’s vital signs. He pointed behind the galley area and announced, “I’ve got a closet-sized emergency room right over there. Go ahead and store your space suits in the storage holds, then each of you can have a turn on my padded recliner.” A little laugh-snort followed.
The two struggled to remove their flight suits. “Where’s the storage hold?” Bach asked. G.R. pointed aft. Bach stored the gear while Faith sat in the chair.
G.R. lowered the recliner to almost flat, then hovered over Faith. “I remember you.” He looked down at her face nodding his Neanderthal-looking head. “You were the top student in my medical emergency class last year at NASA.”
Not knowing if her smile showed or not, Faith blinked a couple of times then softly said, “Sorry, still a bit out of it.” While G.R. monitored her heart and lungs, checked her eyes and ears, and looked in her mouth, she came around slowly. “You were a great teacher,” she said. “Lots of fun.” She paused for a moment. “And I am extremely glad that Bach and I found you all alive and well. I’d hate to have to practice the procedures you taught me.”
G.R. patted her shoulder and smiled. “I’m confident that my star pupil would have given us the best of care.” He moved on to check Bach’s vital signs and when he finished, announced, “In my opinion, the two of you are in excellent condition.”
Kaz yelled from her workstation, “G.R. I told you to stop saying, ‘In my opinion.’ It’s driving me crazy.”
G.R. seemed to not hear.
Faith smiled and walked to where Kaz was working. “Kaz, I’m Faith Christopher. I’ve heard a lot of great things about you from Bach on our way here.”
“Thanks. Nice to meet you,” Kaz replied.
Kaz offered no further conversation, so Faith headed toward the cockpit. “I’ll need to familiarize myself with the AstroLab before our return flight to Earth,” she said, as she stepped to Lynch’s side. It was plain to see the stress on his aging face and the determination in his beady blue eyes. “Commander, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” When he didn’t reply, she let out a little huff. “What are my responsibilities?”
“Work with G.R. to get the ship ready for takeoff. The forcefield’s thrust caused interior disruption. Secure the ship.”
Faith nodded, then tried being cordial again. “Commanding this first-generation spacecraft is quite an accomplishment. How long were you in the space program before you reached the rank of commander?”
He stiffened. “Haven’t been an astronaut very long, have you?”
“Well, I’ve—”
“Only a rookie wouldn’t know who I am.”
“I’m not a rookie. I—”
Lynch talked over her, repeating his credentials robotically. “This is my eleventh space mission in twenty years at NASA. Before that, I trained Air Force stealth pilots and spent my entire life ’n’ military career workin’ toward one goal—become an astronaut and explore interstellar space. Never took time for marriage ’n’ family. Attained Senior Commander status in the space program last year at age forty-eight.”
Faith forced a smile. “Congratulations, you deserve it.” She turned to Deni. “How about you, Deni?”
“I’d rather not talk about myself.”
Uncomfortable with Deni’s curt response, Faith headed to the galley to help G.R. She pressed close to his side and whispered from behind her hand, “Deni’s so tall and very beautiful, but is she always so grumpy?”
He led her aft where they could speak freely. “Deni’s driven and focused and comes across that way, but she’s a great lady. Gets her height from roots in Africa’s Watusi tribe. She’s an amazing pilot. Outflew all the guys in simulation exercises, so NASA awarded her the enviable position of piloting the AstroLab at age thirty-nine,” he hesitated, “but it’s not so enviable right now.”
“Yeah.”
G.R. looked through the cabin. “Let’s do our safety check. You take one side and I’ll take the other.”
“Hey,” Faith yelled to the others, “Anyone want a drink before we get everything tied down?”
“Anything but water,” Deni said. “I need a shot of energy.”
“Protein shake? We brought packets from the Wizard.”
“Perfect, thanks.”
When Faith served drinks to the crew, Deni became more cordial. “Thanks, Faith. Sorry I was a bit short,” she said. “We’re all under a lot of stress and I’m anxious to fly this ship home.”
“You’ll do it,” Faith replied with a smile.
Deni smiled back.
#
NASA’s troubleshooting communiqué came through, and Bach went to work on the powerplant. Within twenty minutes he announced, “Gettin’ a positive response here. If everything resets, we might be ready to go in two hours.” To ease the stress, he joked and made up a song about eluding aliens, to the amusement of some.
G.R. yelled toward Lynch, “Hey, I hate to put a ding in the positive energy, but even with the food they brought from the Wizard, we won’t have enough to get us home. And that’s if nothing else goes wrong.”
Lynch strode to the food storage area, acting as if he’d somehow find a hidden stash of supplies. G.R. knew he hadn’t missed anything, but looked on in silence while Lynch nosed around the cabinets and drawers. The commander soon agreed they were short of food for six people and walked to mid ship to watch Bach’s final systems check. “When you came through the space station’s flight deck area, what did you see? A disaster?”
“No, it’s immaculate,” Bach replied. “I got a good look. The labs are secured, and I’d bet there’s still oxygen and space food aboard.”
“That’s what I’m thinking,” Lynch said. “Even though NASA said to stay out, after hearing your observations, I don’t see a problem.”
G.R. said, “I’ll volunteer to get it.”
“Better check with Ground Control first,” Bach said.
During the time delay, the crewmates waited restlessly for NASA’s approval to search the space station for supplies. Lynch, Deni, and Faith had all been on the station in the past, and as soon as the go-ahead came through, Faith handed G.R. a diagram. “The ship is like a wheel with two intersecting spokes inside. They’re passageways.” She pointed to the diagram. “After you enter from the airlock, go left to the first passageway and take it all the way to the other side. Food storage and the galley are right there.”
G.R. grabbed a nylon tote and a duffel bag and headed to the airlock wearing a portable breathing device.
Kaz hollered, “See if you can find the ship’s log, too.”
“You want food or reading material?” he retorted from behind the airpack mask.
“It’ll be a historica
l legacy.”
Faith’s words followed at his back. “The logbook’s in the cockpit to the right.”
Bach sat beside Kaz at the electronics area and monitored system reset data. In a lighthearted moment, he leaned over and nuzzled his fiancée’s neck. Neither had made a sound when Lynch yelled from the flight deck, “Get organized for departure. Breaking free of the forcefield will be a critical move. Stop wasting time.”
Kaz glared at the back of Lynch’s head, then turned back to her updates.
Waiting for his download to finish, Bach leaned back, stretched, and sang, “AstroLab sittin’ in the big ol’ sky, someone help this broken craft to fly.” He noticed Kaz grumbling. “What’s wrong?”
She pointed to her computer screen. “This can’t be right.”
Within seconds, both were troubleshooting electronic conflicts.
G.R. bounded in from the airlock. “Good news. I found oxygen and dehydrated food. And I got a bonus of freeze-dried ice cream, fudge ripple. I will serve it up shortly. Mmmm.” He left the supplies in the galley, stepped behind Kaz, and passed the space station’s logbook over her shoulder. “How much time do we have?”
“Don’t bug me,” she replied. “I’m in the middle of something.”
G.R. rolled his eyes and asked Bach, “What’s going on?”
“We’re busy right now. Trying to correct a minor problem.”
Deni whipped her head around, leveled her gaze, and raised her eyebrows. “What kind of minor problem? We’re almost ready to go.”
“Fuel’s not registering,” Bach said.
Lynch’s close-set blue eyes narrowed to slits as he looked back through the cabin. “Not registering? We have one full unit!”
“It’s like everything drained down a big hole.”
“Well, figure it out,” Lynch snapped. “AstroLab’s electronics started working when we got here, Wizard’s stopped, and now this. It’s a glitch. Clear it up!”
For the next hour Bach and Kaz pored over the problem without a word, and tension didn’t ease even when G.R. served the foil packets of freeze-dried, fudge ripple ice cream.
Lynch soon tired of the wait and went to Bach’s workstation to check the current download. After eyeing the data, he sighed hard. “We couldn’t have lost all our fuel; that holding tank has no damage.” He returned to the cockpit and sat down with a thud.
Bach yelled after him, “Maybe something out here in deep space caused it to dry up.”
Another sigh from Lynch. He turned to his left. “Deni, get with NASA to check that possibility.”
“My opinion?” G.R. hollered out with a laugh-snort. “Aliens!”
Faith fingered her necklace, sliding the cross back and forth on the chain. “G.R., that’s not funny.” Her voice lowered, “Glad I brought my Bible.”
NASA processed Deni’s information and radioed back. The fuel was onboard, but not registering. Deni yelled to Bach, “It’s caused by an electromagnetic pulse disrupting the sensors. We should be able to override that.”
“I’ll try to demagnetize, then do a pre-ignition warm-up and see what happens,” he replied. “If it works, we’ll be ready to go in a few minutes, so finish what you’re doing and buckle down.”
A sudden shudder rocked the ship.
Kaz yelled, “My screen went blank!”
Bach grumbled, “Damn! Power storage units are discharging.”
Deni added, “Lost radio contact!”
A warning buzzer split the air. Lights on the cockpit console and overhead emergency systems flashed like a Vegas payoff. The big space station lurched, then rocketed forward with the two smaller ships under its wings. Shouts and screams filled the cabin.
Deni sounded like she’d sucked helium, “Gravity’s blown!”
The sudden acceleration jerked Faith and G.R. from their feet in the galley and propelled them toward the rear bulkhead. Like weightless beanbags bouncing off everything in their paths, their flailing arms grasped wildly for anything within reach.
At the same time, Bach’s and Kaz’s chairs ripped from the floor panels and slammed against the bunks with the two still strapped in.
Deep space flashed past the portholes in a meteoric blur as a violent, unrelenting force mercilessly hurled the three-piece spacecraft across the galaxy.
Lynch tried to reach an oxygen mask, but grinding pressure fused him to his seat. His eyes receded into their sockets and the wrinkles on his face stretched elastically over his ears. “Eight g’s,” he grunted in the chaos.
Books, food packets, air tubes, space gear, and electronic equipment slashed through the cabin like cruel weapons as ten-plus torturous g’s knuckled into helpless life, compressing bodies and minds as the craft ripped through a vast expanse of space, then funneled through a vortex of absolute blackness.
A final cry went unheard. “Oh, God!”
*****
CHAPTER SEVEN
The earthships crashed in deep white sand on a rocky, crater-pocked terrain somewhere in deep space where silence seemed deafening and darkness was absolute. The pitch black atmosphere concealed a peculiar lake thirty yards away.
Inside the AstroLab, blackness hid what looked like the aftermath of a bomb blast where familiar things had taken on outlandish shapes, and dangling debris swayed in the airflow.
Minutes later, a reverberation rocked the huge, three-piece space station forward. The structure groaned like a sick baritone as it sank deeper into its sandy grave. In eerie harmony, a human moan arose from the rubble in the tomblike cabin. Whispers and rustling sounds filtered through the darkness.
Bach opened his eyes but couldn’t see.
A disoriented female called out from the cockpit. “Account yourselves.”
An unrecognizable voice spoke, “Lynch. Both arms broken.”
From aft ship, G.R. groaned. “G.R. here. Can hardly move. My back!”
Strapped in his uprooted seat in the rubble, Bach called out, “I’m okay, but buried in junk.”
In her chair at his side, Kaz cried, “Oh, God, I can’t see. I’m blind!”
Bach comforted her, “Calm down, honey, it’s total blackness. I can’t see either.”
“I was knocked cold,” she said in a panic.
Struggling to breathe, G.R. said, “It’s from G-LOC. Gravity induced loss of consciousness. We blacked out from acceleration forces after losing onboard gravity.”
Deni’s query filtered through the disarray. “Faith?”
No response.
She tried again. “Faith? Are you okay?”
Kaz yelled, “Faith? Where are you?”
Deni’s voice grew forceful, “Bach, try to find a light.”
“What about you, Deni? You okay?” he asked.
“Left ankle’s broken.”
G.R. called out, “Faith!” then mumbled, “In my opinion she can’t be out this long from G-LOC.” He rambled in the darkness as if reading a medical manual. “When pressure increases beyond human endurance it can create a centrifuge that shuts down the metabolic oxygen reserve and impairs cardiovascular response. But the unconscious state lasts no more than twenty-four seconds.” He coughed a couple of times. “I think we went the full twenty-four.” Another cough. “Awakening’s a slow recovery—disoriented, anxious, fearful, memory loss. Sometimes a give-up reaction, but it’ll pass. Still, she can’t be out this long.” After a pause, he yelled again, “Faith, please say something.”
Lynch mumbled, “This ain’t right. This can’t be happenin’.”
Surrounded by rubble, Bach felt around the floor for something to grasp to pull himself up. Teetering as he stood, he lost his directional bearings in the pitch darkness. “G.R., you’re at aft cabin. Say something to guide me through the dark.”
“Here … walk toward my voice.” He waited. “But don’t come all the way. I’m farther than the supply hold area.”
Bach felt his way through the debris following G.R.’s lead, and found the emergency supply hold. He yanked a
nd pulled on the damaged door to get it open, then passed his hands over a jumble of objects inside. He knew by the shape of a handle that he’d found a lantern flashlight, but he couldn’t free it, so he switched it on to see how to get it out. Yellow beams jutted at odd angles from beneath the clutter and the sudden burst of light in absolute blackness momentarily blinded him. As his eyes adjusted, he noticed something odd. Is my mind playing tricks? The lantern’s beam had the appearance of smoke swirling around the cabinet. Maybe it’s a G-LOC effect. When he felt a puff of smoke drift across his face, he knew it wasn’t his imagination. An uneasy feeling stirred in his gut, but it came with a tinge of curiosity. The swirling light rays flickered for a moment, then pulled together in the center of the cabinet and transformed into a yellow mass that throbbed in and out like a beating heart. Little by little, the clustered light formed a three-dimensional sphere suspended in midair. It took on the shape of a man’s face with symmetrical features and peculiar copper-colored eyes that shone with an eerie glow, like a dog’s when a light beam hits them in the dark. As Bach watched, the irises pulsed in and out with a hypnotic effect so strong he couldn’t turn away. He grew weaker by the second, as if his life force were funneling out. He couldn’t stop it, and he couldn’t speak.
The otherworldly face’s hypnotic eyes never wavered as his lips parted and the words, “Follow me,” rolled from a glistening silver tongue.
Bach’s heart pounded so hard the fabric of his jumpsuit moved in and out with each beat. Keep your head, he told himself. Breathe in, breathe out.
“What are you doing, Bach?” Deni yelled. “Hurry up! Faith still hasn’t answered.”
The face dissipated, leaving the flashlight’s pale beam.
Bach glanced through the cabin, eyes searching up and down, side to side. Did the visitor respond to Deni’s voice? “I’m coming!” he yelled back. He didn’t want to, but he took one last look at the light inside the cabinet. No face this time. Should I tell the crew? No, we’ve had enough. No danger apparent; don’t add to the trepidation. He pulled the lantern from the debris and for some reason turned it off, then on again to see if the man’s face would reappear. Nothing. Hoping the others wouldn’t notice his trembling hands, he wrapped them both around the flashlight and passed the yellow beam around the ship’s dungeonish cabin. Visible layers of dust hanging in the air seemed like something from a horror movie with an overactive fog machine.
Alpha Rising Page 3