by K A Carter
It seemed to have been an easier task than S’tiri had thought. Not that he was worried about it. Nilus made it to the airlock safely with only minor adjustments in his course. By now he was a mere tiny body in the distance yet could be seen tampering with the outer airlock controls.
S’tiri’s com link chimed with an unnerving static unusual for typical space suits. “Wait until I get this open,” Nilus said, his voiced strained by physical exertion on the tools he was using. “I’ll signal when it’s clear.”
It took less than a minute but seconds longer than S’tiri would have liked. Anxious, he shuffled with his carbine, checking and rechecking its thermal cell as if the vacuum had affected the thermal output in some act of impossible chance. That problem had been solved long ago, before he was even born.
He watched as Pyx, and Garrek glided up and down through more pieces of debris that managed to get float into the path vicinity. Each of them doing it with relative ease. It was as if everyone was an experienced dock hauler. Typical work that included using large crane hands in docks to outfit ships on port. For all he knew they had done so once upon a time in their lives. What other reason would they have to turn to lives of, not blatant crime, but frowned upon activities. At this point all of them were as close to friends as S’tiri would ever get again, he justified that at least none of them were involved in slavery and piracy. At least as far as he knew.
“Now you,” Garrek said. He and Pyx’s heads popped out of the airlock like small dots in constant motion. “Adjust your output to 14.1 it works best, and make sure you switch on your environmental radiation aperture shield. I’m picking up rising levels of Thorium radiation.”
S’tiri looked down at his forearm, readings displaying similar data and a warning to activate the shield. He pressed the gawky armor glove finger over the request. A scanning light made the shape of his body and then disappeared.
He jumped out and waited until he hit roughly seven meters away from the ship, switching on the jets just at the edge of the first floating wreckage. It jolted slightly and the fingertips of the suit flashed. S’tiri clenched his fist and stopped. It was a precaution to make sure he hadn’t mixed up the signals Pyx mentioned to him just before suiting up.
Most of the debris passed over him at an angle that he could only see by pushing his eyes to the roof of the suit. Moving in a vacuum outside a ship threw everything in a loop and it became difficult to tell which was up and down. A little further and he couldn’t tell the difference. He dove forward to compensate for more room, there was no point in leaving it to chance. With the spatial disorientation he was experiencing, he preferred to be as far away as the suit would permit him to.
S’tiri arrived at the airlock Pyx and Garrek waiting inside. As he inched in, the outer door closed behind his boots and made a suction sound as each of them planted on the floor.
Pyx hissed over the com, “Where are we with the inner door?” She floated next to Nilus as he intently focused at the inner airlock controls.
“Impenetrable,” he said, looking back at S’tiri. “The mechanism is severed from the inside. Some failsafe.”
“Any way we can get through?” S’tiri responded.
“Not unless you want to scour the outer hull for a window to break.”
“At least get some atmosphere and gravity?” Pyx asked, she bowed over her feet looking down at the floor.
“I can do that,” he said.
A sound hummed into a higher pitch and each of them fell from where they were levitating. Gravity was back.
S’tiri checked his environmental readings on his suit display, “It’s clear.” He began to tap on the suit display to command the helmet to collapse back into the back compartment.
“Not just yet,” said Nilus. He pressed his helmet against the small airlock window that was shaped in to a perfect circle. “There could be vacuum leaks on the other side of this door.”
“Move,” Garrek said. He motioned in front of Nilus and clenched the armored fist. The force sounding like a Volga crushing under unwanted gravity swells. It brought S’tiri back to his younger days as a cadet. Something about the solemn carelessness was a pleasant caricature in a not so pleasant moment. He didn’t think he could remember any of those days anymore.
A sound of crunched bulkhead rustled his com, that meant Garrek used tremendous force. Enough force that he could hear it even though his suit was still on.
Garrek pulled his fist out of the craterous hole he dug where the door panel was. “There. I made it easier,”
Nilus examined it for any profitable use. Wires hung in sight. After careful examination, he concluded, “okay give me a moment,”
It didn’t take as long as S’tiri thought, only a matter of two counted minutes on his suit.
“Got it,” Nilus said. The airlock door opened. Almost immediately after, each of the group’s suit displays began blinking and whistling a warning. “It’s like I thought,” he added.
“Radiation levels are spiking,” S’tiri rushed over to a dead terminal in the middle of the room. The screen was dark and useless. Each panel lifeless and empty and bared damaged that reflected the outer exterior of the ship.
Nilus joined him at terminal.
“Can you get this on?” said S’tiri.
S’tiri watched as the callous merc scanned with his perilous eyes.
He wandered to the opposite side of the system. “No,” Nilus responded with verbal frown.
“Care to explain?”
“Don’t know what it is. This isn’t any technology I’m familiar with.”
S’tiri stepped away, gripping his carbine off his back mount. The cabin they were in was dark almost to blindness. The lights from the suits carried enough illumination that S’tiri could see everyone’s paths.
“Pan out and see what you can find. We can’t take too long, we may be dealing with an exposed reactor,” he ordered. S’tiri stepped into an open doorway that lead to a corridor. This part of the ship looked more recognizable. A derelict Draul ship; he thought he’d never come across such a rarity. A wonder more accurately titled.
He applied his training. All of it that he could remember, checking each attached room carefully and making sure his back was covered. It was an easy adjustment; aiming down sights once again. Though he kept the cloak blade on his belt that carried the slain victims of his own kind, it was there to remind him that he wasn’t in control of anything. Even now, while he could think for himself.
“I got something,” said Pyx over the com. “A level down.”
It was a short distance that manifested itself into a better layout of what the ship was. Some sort of scout ship. Pyx was standing in front of a blown open piece of hull. Lodged into it was a familiar piece of machinery. An Irinan A’tai fighter.
S’tiri moved closer. The exposure to the outside, snippets of lush star gazes surrounding the fighter. It was still intact. The cockpit was open and unprecedentedly empty. “Did you check it?” he said, folding his head back at Pyx.
She nodded, “yeah, blood leads here.” She turned her back to S’tiri and edged toward a door. The mechanism was destroyed and the panel reading hull breach emergency shut down.
“No way we’re getting into that,” Nilus interjected.
S’tiri paused and looked at the surroundings. “We have to. Something is in there. Someone.”
“I can find another way,” said Garrek, edging from the service stairs everyone one had met at.
“Where were you?” Pyx asked.
“Scouting. Like S’tiri asked. There’s a way in there. This ship is nothing but a scout vessel. The hatch is closed, but the bulkhead can be blown through.”
“Would you like to level the whole thing while you’re at it?” said Nilus brazenly.
“Use this.” He threw S’tiri a small spherical object with a red glowing dot at the top.
“What is it?” S’tiri knew it was some sort of explosive but given that his crew was a bunch of
mercs, the odds could go either way on what it was.
“Deus detonator. Disintegrates what its thrown at.”
S’tiri glanced at it for a moment, gripping it lightly. An indented pad on the top of it revealed itself as he twirled in it his glove. Slowly contemplating whether to throw it at the wall beside the door.
“Stand back,” he said. The wall beside the door was bare, the one adjacent holding more panels that carried blackened screens. S’tiri pressed the indentation in, the red dot blinking as a result, and threw it in between the panels and the door. It stopped inches away from the bulkhead, spinning at an immense rate. A timed beep accompanied the blinking as each sped up until it ringed. Then a flash.
The wall was disintegrated. The detonator created a wide crater out of it, the edges appearing to have been singed off.
Inside was a series of workstations and engineering aids. A trail of blood followed from the door. Pyx popped her head inside not bothering to join S’tiri in exploring the room.
He followed the trail to the edge of the room. In the corner, a body laid, its hand pressed against a blaster wound.
S’tiri approached it. The military environment suit stuck out. Easily recognizable A’tai equipment. It was the pilot of the fighter. He crouched down next to the body, trying to examine the wound and whom it was.
He pressed his hand against the chest, and it moved. The body jolted in a hysterical fit. Screaming as though it was being tortured.
“Calm down, I won’t hurt you,” S’tiri said.
His words were ignored as the body continued to flail, yelling out in a gut-wrenching pitch, “Monsters!”
Chapter 30: Jericho
Jericho dared himself not to panic. Every instinct told him to move the crew out of the room and start taking each system offline one by one. He had no clue as to what exactly he was looking at.
“Everyone out now,” he said. “Not you,” He pulled Gideon back and placed his face aside his. “What have you been doing down here? What is this?” he said through gritting teeth.
“Cap, I was just trying to figure out what this was,” Gideon adjusted his holospecs and pushed them closer to the rim of his nose.
“And?”
“A V.I? It looks to be integrated in the ship, I… I may have initiated its service protocol.”
“Actually, it was already on,” said the Nexus. “I chose to remain idle,” It’s manifested face changed in the lights to a grid display. “You are partially correct second officer Gideon Arctyrus. Though I reside virtually, I am indeed an Artificial Intelligence. I was…fearful of what may become of me had I let my presence be known.”
Gideon walked towards the display, “Ah, this is your brain.”
“Precisely.” Nexus highlighted regions of the grid in separate colors. “To say it plainly, I am the ship.”
Jericho pulled Gideon back and shouted in a whisper, “We can’t trust this thing. Take it offline.” He attempted to hide the look he’d always give when he wanted to say something far worse.
The Nexus returned to its facial representation. “An unwise proposal Captain Alfred Jericho. I have and should continue to help protect the ship.”
“Nexus, if you could give us a moment,” Gideon said with a high pitch, hoping that his words would grant them a private moment.
Gideon motioned back towards the room entrance and pressed the controls to close the door. “Cap, if it’s being honest, we might have a way to get back home.”
“How do you figure that?”
“There’s still a lot we don’t know about the ship. Let me probe for information. Maybe there’s a way to control the jumps.”
Before Gideon had spoken, Jericho was certain that his engineer’s curiosity would get in the way of his critical thinking. But this was different. It made sense to do such a thing at this particular moment. Jericho rubbed the edge of his neck where it met his back. “We both go in,”
“Deal,” Gideon responded.
The two of them entered the room, the Nexus staring at them as they entered. It smiled a haunting smile and projected itself in front of them in smaller form.
Jericho took a step back, letting Gideon take point. He was just there to observe. Besides, he was curious himself about what it would say.
“Can you tell me where we are?” he said.
It paused for a moment, possibly computing some sort of algorithmic diagnostic using scanners from the ship. “This ship is currently engaged in warp route access towards Dortrus, an inhabited planet in the Oter Ide system.”
Jericho crunched his brows up, “You mean like the weapons company?” he said.
“Yes,”
“Inhabited by who?” Gideon asked, as he gently feathered a hand toward Jericho. He wanted to be the sole interrogator. Something Jericho didn’t mind relinquishing.
Nexus projected itself in between Jericho and Gideon. “By humans of course,” it said.
Jericho rose from leaning his shoulder on a bulkhead with his eyes glistening with confounding surprise. “What? You’re lying.”
“Cap, gimme a sec will ya,” Gideon said.
“It would be dishonest to say I cannot lie., however I assure you I have no reason to do so.”
“How is it that there is a human colony on what was that planet called?” Gideon asked.
“Dortrus. I do not have the answer to your question,”
There were too many questions on Jericho’s mind to think clearly. He grew agitated and made it visible.
“How do we get home?” Gideon’s voice quivered with the question.
“Home. Please Specify.”
“How do we get back to our home system?”
“System. Solar System: Sol,” it said as though it were reading off of a navigation chart. “Navigation array unable to comply. I am unable to assess the encryption procedure.”
Just the mere whisper of Sol brought back memories that were heavy on Jericho’s mind. Things he didn’t actually relish in.
Thoughts of hearing the gentle food alarm from when he was a child. It’s calm awakening a foreshadow of a breakfast of fresh warm peaches atop of waffles. It wasn’t always terrible in the shelters of Clere’s underworld. Even the gritty parts seemed better than traveling aimlessly in uncharted space. With the addition of a lunatic chasing them. He hadn’t for gotten about Zael. It was possible he was trailing them, or at least Jericho was sure he wasn’t gone yet.
He tore a small blue packet over a black mug he had pulled from its magnetic slot in the cupboard above the coffee machine. He poured it into the machine and within seconds a dark brew flowed from the small tube, a steam rose from the mug.
Jericho sipped at it in tiny spurts to avoid a burnt lip.
Zen walking for the first time since he had last seen her, wandered over. She looked better.
“Mind pouring me some?” she said. She took a seat in front of him at one of the galley benches, her groan a signature of someone recovering from injuries. Her arms bared blackened bruises that hadn’t let healed.
Jericho tore another packet and grabbed another mug. “Why don’t you just take the meds?”
“I’ve never been one for taking drugs, not even when the Federation told me to,”
“Or maybe you just like pain a little too much,” Jericho said quick-wittedly.
She nodded with a smile she tried to hide by keep her lips closed. “Obviously,” she said.
“I assume the crew told you about the A.I.” Jericho said. He handed her a black mug identical to his.
She grabbed at it, taking a sizable gulp to spite the obvious heat surging from it. It didn’t seem to bother her in the slightest.
“No, your crew still chooses not to tell me anything,” she took another gulp. “I thought there was one. Well a V.I… but what’s the difference.”
“You’re joking?” Jericho asked. His face went cold and he shot an angry glance at her but did nothing else. “You didn’t think that was something to tell us?”
“My apologies, but we haven’t exactly been in conversation friendly scenarios.”
Jericho wanted to be mad at her, but after what she did for Araime, he had a good feeling that she wasn’t playing old federation mind tactics. If she had any desire to do so, it would have sailed away when they first hit danger. It seemed to be quite plentiful in this region of the galaxy.
Jericho swallowed what little bit of agitation he had at learning that she knew information she was unwilling to share and said. “Well, we have something we could do to maybe get us back,” he said, and sat down across from her at the table.
“Nothing surprises me now. I just want to get back.”
“Back to the federal life.” His words falling out as though he’d been waiting to say them.
She didn’t bother to respond. A few of the crew wandered into the galley adjusting themselves to the brighter lights. Most of them had been sleeping by the look of their dazed gazes. It wasn’t day time nor was it night. Freya had tried to keep tabs on the ship’s internal time dial. Jericho didn’t know if she had or not.
He continued to sip at his coffee. He hated it but it was surely to keep him awake enough to deal with what was to come.
Gideon ambled his way from the adjacent corridor. “Well,” he said, sitting down exhaustively. “Someone wasn’t too stupid.”
Jericho silently gave a look that Gideon knew all too well.
“Nexus is shackled, so we don’t have to worry about it prying into systems we don’t want it to.”
“That’s good,” Jericho responded. Nothing could have ruined his attitude any more than being strung up and tortured.
“Yeah but that means that plotting a course straight back home is something we can’t do.”
No.” Jericho responded.
“What?” Gideon said with a shrug.
“I do not authorize you to attempt to unshackle the Nexus.”
“Attempt?” Gideon rose and slid toward the wall refrigerator. He opened it and pulled out a cylindrical cannister with a nozzle that popped open when he gripped it. He drank from it and closed the fridge. “I don’t have to attempt. I can do it.”