by Kit Walker
Endling: 600 Years from Home
Smashwords Edition
Copyright © 2016 Kit Walker
All rights reserved. No part of this ebook may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of critical reviews, fanworks, and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
For Annie.
Contents
Introduction
Prologue
Quarantine Zone
Outland
The Liar
Liberty
Aegis
About the Author
Introduction
I grew up watching Star Trek. For as far back as I can remember, I sat down with my family every week and watched intrepid Starfleet officers explore new worlds and encounter new forms of life. As I got older, I branched out: Stargate SG-1 reruns aired every day after school, and Farscape made its debut on Canadian TV when I was eight years old.
(In retrospect, eight-year-old me probably shouldn’t have been watching Farscape. But I’d started reading Anne McCaffrey’s books by that point, so I guess the damage was already done.)
Endling is my love letter to the stories I grew up with: an episodic space opera full of strange worlds, aliens, mysteries, and adventures. This book collects the series’ first five episodes, and each episode is its own complete story. Endling also gives me the opportunity to play around with all the other genres I love: “Quarantine Zone” was a chance to try my hand at space horror, “The Liar” is an old-fashioned murder mystery, and “Aegis” was born out of all my frustrations with alien invasion movies.
Taken together, these first five episodes are an introduction to the world and characters of Endling. I really enjoyed writing it, and I hope you enjoy reading it.
-Kit Walker
In the year 2058, a group of national space programs, scientific institutes, and private investors came together with the goal of establishing the first permanent settlement on Mars. Project Oasis was born: humanity's first attempt to colonize the stars.
CSV Frontier launched in the spring of 2083, carrying more than a hundred Project Oasis volunteers. All but a handful of the colonists were frozen in cryogenic suspension, to conserve resources on the long journey to their new home.
Two months after her departure from Earth, Frontier dropped out of contact and disappeared.
Episode 1: Quarantine Zone
Asha Reed wakes up with the worst headache she's ever had.
A dull pain throbs in the general vicinity of her temple, and the lights overhead are appallingly bright. Asha groans, squeezing her eyes shut, and slings an arm over her face.
Someone's talking. It takes Asha a moment to sort the noises into words.
"Ashley! Ashley! Get up, get up, it'll be back any minute—"
Asha moves her arm and squints up into the light. "It's Asha."
A man's face pops into view, one she vaguely recognizes. Adam Collins. Skinny, designer stubble, glasses, fond of vests. Asha was introduced to him at some point, although she can't remember exactly where.
There's a hand under her back, pushing her up into a sitting position. The motion is too much, too fast, and Asha clutches the edge of the table as she doubles over, retching.
Nothing comes up. Her stomach was empty when she went into cryo.
"Sorry," Asha rasps out. She blinks rapidly, clearing her eyes.
This isn't the revival room.
This is an infirmary, maybe. Asha's sitting on one of a half-dozen exam tables, arranged in a circle around the room's central pillar. Everything is brushed bronze and glass; clean, sterile.
There are two main doors, one on either side of the room. A second man has stationed himself next to one of them, with his ear pressed to the wall. Michael Sutherland. Asha remembers flirting with him at the Project Oasis launch party, although it never went anywhere. Mike used to be a marine, still has the build and the haircut, and signed on as head of the project's (underfunded, understaffed, and largely unnecessary) security team.
Asha says, "Where are we?"
"Don't know," says Mike. "Not Mars."
"There's a monster," Adam interrupts. "It came in here, took you away, and when it brought you back, you had—" he points at the side of Asha's head, "—that."
Asha runs a hand over her scalp. She keeps her hair buzzed short—managing long hair involves more time and effort than she has to spare—and so she doesn't have to do much digging before she feels the raised line of a fresh incision. There aren't any stitches. What's holding it shut?
Who cut her head open?
"It's coming back." Mike grabs a crutch lying on top of a nearby supply cart. He braces himself next to the door, holding the crutch like a baseball bat, and nods to Adam and Asha. "Get ready to run."
The door opens.
The creature that steps into the infirmary is around eight feet tall, and bears a strong resemblance to a lizard that's learned how to walk on its hind legs. Intricate body paint covers its scaly grey skin: sharp angles and geometric shapes in brown and green.
Mike darts in and swings the crutch as hard as he can. It bounces harmlessly off the lizard-thing's back.
The creature reaches back and gently plucks the crutch out of Mike's grip. Then it turns away from him, attention fixed on Asha. "Hello. Please remain calm."
As a kid, Asha devoted a lot of time and thought to what she would do if she ever met an alien. There were elaborate plans, demonstrations of mathematical intelligence, universal gestures of peace and acceptance, and so on.
Ten-year-old Asha would probably punch twenty-eight-year-old Asha in retaliation for what comes out of her mouth next:
"... Okay? Um. Sorry about that."
"Apology accepted," the alien says. "I am Ysal sai-Vysri. Might I request your assistance?"
•
"You are aboard the Wayfarer," Ysal says. "Your ship was adrift when we found it. We brought your stasis pods aboard to revive you."
The alien leads Asha, Adam, and Mike down a wide, gently curving corridor. The ceiling arches high above them, and the walls are bronze, tarnished with age. It feels more like a cathedral than a spaceship.
Asha says, "Who's 'we'?"
"She's talking about me," says a voice from above. It sounds like it's coming through some kind of PA system, but Asha can't see any speakers.
"Your assistance would be appreciated, Laela," Ysal says, polite but firm.
"Those three drifted out of a Sentinel quarantine," says the voice. "I'm not leaving the command deck until we're sure they don't have some horrible alien disease."
Ysal turns a corner, stops in front of a wide door, and taps a console on the wall. The door opens, revealing an elevator.
Once they're inside and descending, Asha glances over at Mike and Adam, who are both wearing twin expressions of utter incomprehension. "What's wrong?" she asks them.
Mike regards Ysal with wary look. "You understood all that?"
"You didn't?"
Ysal tilts her head toward Asha. "Laela installed a translator implant in your brain. We only had one, and determined that your body was least likely to reject it."
Asha's hand flies back up to the incision on her scalp. Her stomach churns. "You did brain surgery on me?"
"Under normal circumstances, we would not have installed the implant without your consent," Ysal says, contrite. Her tai
l flicks and curls around her body. "However, there were extenuating—"
An alarm goes off: a high, shrieking wail.
"Core temperature's approaching critical," Laela shouts over it. "Get to the corvus."
•
The 'corvus' turns out to be a docking umbilical, which has bridged the two ships by punching through Frontier's hull. Once Asha passes through, she's finally back in familiar territory.
It's warmer than usual in here. And getting hotter the further in they go.
Before launch, Frontier had been hailed as the pinnacle of human achievement. That doesn't change the fact that she is, basically, an engine with a bunch of cargo containers bolted on. The tunnels between each module are small and cramped, and the walkways spanning the interior of each cargo bay even more so.
And they've turned so many corners that Asha is utterly lost. "Where are we going?"
"The generator room," Ysal replies. "There has been a complication."
A little while later, Asha's curiosity overcomes her anxiety. "Why'd you board our ship?"
"We were looking for useful salvage," Ysal says. "We did not expect to find three active stasis pods."
"What do you mean, 'three'?" Asha says. "There are a hundred pods on this ship."
They cross into the sleeper bay. Row upon row of cryo pods still line the walls, but they've all gone dark. The lights overhead emit a faint hum, but aside from that, the room is silent.
"Shit," Mike whispers. "What happened?"
"There appears to have been a power failure," Ysal says. "Your pods were the only ones that remained active." She pauses. "I am sorry for the loss of your shipmates."
Asha swallows the lump in her throat and manages to translate for the other two: "Power went out."
Mike stumbles to a halt on the walkway. "They're all dead?"
"That's not possible," Adam takes a few steps back, eyes wide as he looks around the sleeper bay. "We have failsafes in place to prevent this from happening. This isn't possible."
"We have a limited amount of time," Ysal says. "Please tell your associate that we must keep moving."
Asha says, "We have to go. Now."
Adam shakes his head, taking another step back.
"Adam!" Mike barks.
Adam jolts, like he's been slapped, and stops in his tracks.
"There's something wrong with the generator," Asha says. "We need you. Come on."
•
The generator room is a huge, spherical chamber, spiderwebbed by dozens of thin metal walkways. The emergency lights are on, illuminating the room with a dull red glow. Sweat trickles down Asha's back; the heat is oppressive, stifling.
The generator itself is the size of a small house, rising up from the center of the floor. A platform surrounds the base of the generator housing, crowded with screens and monitoring equipment. As they approach the nearest computer terminal, Ysal detaches a small device from her belt, holds it up to her muzzle, and says, "Laela? We are here."
"Okay. Give your comm to the alien."
Ysal nudges Asha and hands over the device: a black glass rectangle about the size of Asha's palm. She fumbles with it for a second, looking for an 'on' switch, then holds the device up to her mouth and says, experimentally, "Hello?"
"We turned your ship's generator on to get life support working," Laela says immediately, "but the core temperature's shooting up and I can't figure out how to stop it. If it overloads, the explosion could destroy both our ships."
"So you want us to shut it down?"
"Bad idea. You'd lose life support. Better idea: find out why it's overheating, then fix it. You have about fifteen minutes before we pass the point of no return."
Asha turns to Adam and Mike. "The generator's overheating. We've got fifteen minutes."
Adam pushes past her and moves to the terminal, fingers flying over the touchscreen. Asha tries to stifle her annoyed grumble, but judging by the amused glance Mike throws her way, it was just a little bit too loud.
After about a minute, Adam frowns at the readout. "This can't be right."
Asha says, "What can't?"
"Nothing's wrong."
"It's like a sauna in here," Mike says. "Something is obviously wrong."
"The generator is functioning as expected," Adam says. "Waste heat output is normal. There's no reason for it to be overheating like this."
Asha squeezes past them to the next terminal and checks the generator's system status. Adam is right. The generator is working exactly as it should, the temperature is rising anyway, and they're running out of time.
"You're missing something," Mike says. "Check it again."
"I am!" Adam fires back. "A full systems diagnostic is going to take at least ten minutes."
"'At least'?!"
Asha takes her fingers off the screen, squashing the surge of panic. "Relax," she mutters to herself. "Defocus. If it's not the generator, what is it?"
She scrolls through the other systems, taking a few seconds to scan each readout.
Power output. Engines. Ventilation—
There it is.
"It's the heat diffusion system."
Adam stops mid-argument with Mike and stares at her. "What?"
"It's locked down," Asha explains. "The generator's waste heat is building up because it isn't getting vented out." She checks the terminal again. "I can't lift the lockdown from here. Is there an override?"
"Three levels down," Adam says. "But—"
"I'll be right back."
•
It's only once she's out of the generator room that Asha realizes Ysal is following her.
"Shouldn't you stay with the guys?"
"Neither of your associates can understand me," Ysal points out. "And you will likely need my assistance."
The route down isn't exactly friendly: the ventilation hub is at the bottom of a long series of ladders, connected by flimsy metal platforms. The air is so hot that it hurts to breathe. Asha's palms are sweating. A few times, her grip on the ladder almost slips.
Finally, Asha lands in a huge dark room. Pipes and vents line the walls in twisting, serpentine configurations; the waste heat from the generator gets shunted down here, where it's distributed throughout the ship and, if necessary, out to the radiators on Frontier's hull.
The manual override turns out to be an enormous lever. It's as long as Asha is tall, and looks like something out of a Frankenstein movie. It was clearly not intended for casual use.
Asha grabs the handle and pulls. The lever doesn't move.
"Shit," she hisses. By her count, they have less than two minutes left.
She tries again, gripping the lever with both hands and pulling with all her weight. It moves a little, then slides back into its original position.
"If I may?"
Ysal steps up next to Asha, grabs the lever with one hand, and wrenches it down.
There's a loud clunk somewhere below them, and a rush of air. The room already feels cooler, although that's probably just Asha's imagination.
The comm in Asha's pocket activates again. "Temperature's dropping," Laela says. "Whatever you just did, I think it worked."
Asha sags in relief and wipes the sweat out of her eyes.
•
The trip back up to the generator room is far more tedious than the trip down. As Asha climbs up the last ladder, Ysal says, from below her, "I apologize for my earlier rudeness."
If Asha weren't out of breath from the climb, she'd laugh. The adrenaline come-down is making her loopy. "That was you being rude?"
"I never asked what your names and pronouns are."
"Oh." Asha climbs up onto the platform and sits on the floor so she can catch her breath. It's not particularly dignified, but she's too tired to care right now. "My name's Asha Reed. The guys upstairs are Mike and Adam. And 'she,' is okay as a pronoun, for me."
Ysal's head pops up from beneath the edge of the platform. "I am pleased to meet you, Asha Reed."
"An
d, uh... you're a 'she,' too?"
Ysal climbs up and joins Asha in sitting on the floor. "At the moment, yes."
"But that could change?"
"Frequently," Ysal says. "I am a sivari. My people's concept of gender is more fluid than most species'."
"Okay," Asha says. "I used to date someone who had kind of the same deal."
Ysal's head bobs down, and then up; it's a sharp, birdlike gesture. "I am impressed that you isolated the generator problem so quickly. Are you an engineer?"
"Not even close." A wheezing laugh crawls up out of Asha's chest. "I'm a tester. It's my job to break the engineers' shit and tell them how I did it, so they can make sure it doesn't happen again."
Ysal cocks her head to the side and blinks. "That sounds quite valuable."
"Not valuable enough for a raise."
A series of clanging footsteps ring out, from down the hall. Mike turns a corner and comes running toward them.
Asha takes one look at his strained expression and asks, "Is everything okay?"
"Adam just checked the date," Mike replies, breathless.
The bottom drops out of Asha's stomach. There's no way this is good news. "And...?"
"It's 2691," Mike gasps out. "Six hundred years. We've been in cryo for six hundred years."
•
Ysal escorts Asha, Mike, and Adam back to the Wayfarer and drops them off in the medbay.
"The doors are not locked," Ysal says. "You may move freely throughout the ship, although the command deck and the armory are sealed."
Then she heads back down to the corvus. Now that they're sure Frontier won't blow up, Ysal and Laela have resumed scavenging the wreck. There are still some usable supplies aboard, and materials that can be sold for scrap.
Nobody has decided what to do with all those deactivated cryo pods, and the people inside.
"Six hundred years," Asha mutters.
It's too much to comprehend. She's still waiting for it to sink in, and wondering what will happen when it does. A catastrophic emotional breakdown, probably.
Adam says, "We need to contact Earth."