The Agathon: Reign of Arturo

by Colin Weldon

  “Looks like a liquid polymer, if those two mix, then there’s nothing we can do,” Tosh said.

  “Can you disarm it?” Barrington shouted climbing up onto the side of the engine core.

  The motion created another wave of nausea that hit him full force and this time he couldn’t stop it. He leaned to the side and vomited all over the floor. He clung to the side of the core, wiping his mouth and flicked his eyes to the left, successfully shutting down the program. Tosh looked up at him questioningly and he replied “Side effects of my new bionic eye.” Tosh nodded and they turned their attention back to The Betty. He looked at the device. It was an extremely well put together piece of work. There was a LCD timer on one side ticking slowly down from twelve minutes.

  “No chance, John. I am amazed she didn’t set the thing off as she was walking into the engine room,” Tosh said sounding panicked.

  Barrington looked back at the bomb and tried to think straight.

  “We have to get it off the ship,” he said, “give me a laser welder!”

  One of the engineering staff rushed up behind him with the small hand held device and handed it to Barrington.

  “Are you nuts? That’ll set it off!” Tosh said to him from below.

  “You got a better idea?” Barrington said, activating the laser welder and making an incision into the metal underneath the bomb.

  Kevin Ferrate had just climbed up to assist him.

  “Easy, sir, there is a power distribution node three inches to the left,” Ferrate said.

  Barrington steadied his hand and moved the laser welder around the edges of the bomb. There was a light popping sound as the section of metal came loose. A collective intake of breath let him know the device was loose. He slowly manoeuvred his fingers under the bomb, freeing it from the surface of the metal. It was surprisingly light. He took it in both hands and gently stepped down from the engine core. There was a deathly silence in the engine room as all eyes fell on the device.

  “Now what? We are running out of time, John” Tosh whispered looking at Barrington.

  Barrington looked at the rear door of the engine room and back at Tosh. He had no choice. He was about to start for the door when he suddenly felt another pair of hands clasp his.

  “I’ll take care of it,” Kevin Ferrate said snatching the device out of the captain’s hands.

  Barrington had no time to react, as the young crewman began running towards the back of the engine room to the door.

  “Kevin!” Barrington shouted at the young man who had broken into a sprint.

  Barrington looked briefly back at a visibly shocked Tosh. He looked back towards Ferrate who was now at the door and moving through it.

  “Goddam it!” he shouted as he broke into a sprint following Ferrate and the bomb out of the engine room. A stunned Tosh was left to sit beside a pool of vomit and the smouldering body of Katrina Padrosa.

  The Agathon Shuttle Bay

  The doorway to the shuttle bay was still open when Barrington arrived. He ran inside to see Kevin Ferrate already seated in Shuttle Pod 3. The main hatch was still open and he stepped inside.

  “Hold it,” he said to Ferrate who was already running up the engine start up sequence.

  Ferrate turned in his seat.

  “Captain, get out of here, we don’t have time,” he shouted.

  “Get out of the seat, Kevin, I’ll do it,” Barrington said moving towards the young crewman.

  Ferrate stood up and blocked Barrington’s way and put his hands forcefully on his shoulders.

  “Captain, listen to me. This is the way it has to be. I can’t captain this ship. These people need you, way more than they need me. I am an expendable asset and you fucking know it!” he said “please, sir, let me do this!”

  Barrington looked at the conviction of the young man. He knew he was right of course. He knew that his training demanded that he order a crewman to his death, if it meant saving the ship. It did not give him a choice. He looked at the bomb which Ferrate had left resting on the chair next to the main flight console. It was slowly ticking down. Four minutes thirty and counting. The fluids in the two long tubes were beginning to mix into each other. One blue, one red. It made a purple mixture in the centre of the device.

  “Goodbye, Captain,” Ferrate said seeing Barrington’s silent agreement with the situation.

  The captain fought his instinct to hit the man and take the controls, but instead simply extended his hand.

  “Thank you,” Barrington said, suddenly feeling an emptiness swarm through his chest.

  He shook the crewman’s hand and stepped out of the shuttle craft. There was no choice. Ferrate smiled sadly and returned to the flight chair. Barrington stepped outside the shuttle and sealed the outer hatch. He looked around at the crew manning the shuttle bay.

  “Clear the shuttle bay, prepare for launch!” he shouted at them.

  He walked over to a computer console and tapped the comms channel.

  “Barrington to bridge, Charly get the ship as far away from Shuttle Pod 3 as you can, it’s about to depart,” he said.

  “Yes, sir,” Boyett’s voice sounded confused, but she followed his order.

  Barrington looked back at the shuttle pod which was now hovering in front of the main hangar doors. He moved out of the shuttle bay and listened as it depressurised. He caught Ferrate’s eyes through the glass and saluted him. Ferrate winked back with a smile. The shuttle bay doors opened and the little craft left the ship. He tapped the comm channel again and opened a ship wide communication.

  “All hands, this is the captain, prepare for impact,” he said.

  He suddenly became angry. He should have found the saboteur. He should have been more diligent. Why couldn’t Carrie have sensed this? Then he thought of her. He wondered if she really was still alive. He felt alone. It did not matter if Ferrate could not captain the ship. His crew was slowly dying. One by one. He looked out at the empty shuttle bay. Then a thought crept into his mind. A crazy thought. It forced its way through his grief.

  “Jesus!” he said loudly to himself.

  He tapped the comm channel again.

  “Charly, patch me through to Shuttle Pod 3, fast!” he shouted at the computer.

  “Yes, sir, you are through, go ahead,” she said quickly.

  “Kevin?” he shouted.

  “Yes, sir, I can read you,” Ferrate said.

  Barrington placed both of his hands on the console.

  “Listen to me, there is an atmo suit in the rear of the shuttle pod, look behind you in the crew storage locker!” he said.

  “Okay?” said Ferrate confused.

  Less than one minute.

  “Set the shuttle pod to full thrusters and get into it. NOW!” he shouted.

  “Sir, I …” Ferrate began to speak.

  “Do it, that’s an order. On my mark, blow the emergency hatch release,” Barrington said.

  “Sir, I don’t think …” Ferrate said.

  “Don’t argue with me or I’ll have you court martialed,” Barrington said.

  “Yes, sir,” said Ferrate scrambling to the storage locker and finding the suit.

  Forty-five seconds.

  “It’s gonna be a rough ride, Kevin, so hold on,” Barrington said.

  Fifteen seconds.

  “Okay, sir, I’m in,” said Kevin.

  “Blow it!” Barrington said.

  There was silence on the comms. He tapped the bridge comm link.

  “Charly, get a lock on Kevin’s bio signs. He’s about to separate from the shuttle,” Barrington said.

  “Yes, sir,” replied Boyett.

  The ship suddenly shook. The force of it knocked Barrington off his feet and sent him crashing onto his side. He knocked his head on the corner of a console. The blow was not strong enough to render him unconscious, but it sure as hell hurt. He looked around at the other crewmen as they grabbed onto hand rails. The vibration lasted several seconds before abating. He slowly rose to his
feet, feeling a trickle of blood descending down his forehead. There was silence. He looked around.

  “Everyone still in one piece?” he said quietly.

  The crew nodded. Barrington picked himself up and tapped the computer console.

  “Bridge, report,” he said.

  “The shuttle craft has detonated, sir,” Boyett said, “no damage to the ship as far as we can tell.”

  “Have you got a lock on Ferrate?” he said.

  “Yes, sir, he is floating thirty kilometres away from the detonation site. We have no communications,” she said.

  “Okay, Charly,” Barrington said, “let’s go get him.”

  “Yes, sir,” Boyett said.

  21

  Earth One

  Forbidden Zone

  Aron smiled casually. The Colonial Guard had been watching him intently as they walked through the corridors of Earth One towards the Forbidden Zone. They were standing at the main security door and Florence was entering her code when the guard finally spoke.

  “This is a restricted area,” the guard said to Florence as she placed her hand on the scanner.

  It was the first time Aron had heard one of the Colonial Guards speak. The voice sounded strange, distorted. It was artificial, like the guard was speaking through a computerised voice box. There was no emotion behind it. It had the effect of making the guards even more ominous than they already were. He wondered what Arturo had done to the poor recruited souls that were tasked with maintaining order in the tribes. The guard was still looking at Aron. Or at least Aron THOUGHT he was looking at him. He could not see the guard’s eyes through the black faceplate, but his head was definitely pointed in his direction. Aron began to get nervous and looked at Florence, who squared off with the guard and lifted her chin to him.

  “I am under strict instructions from the chancellor. You are ordered to stand down and remain here,” she said confidently.

  The guard turned his head to look at Florence, then slowly turned back to Aron.

  “This is a restricted area,” the guard repeated in his mechanical voice.

  “Guard, I am telling you to stand down. Remain here, is that clear?” Florence repeated.

  The guard suddenly took a step towards Florence, raising his weapon and letting it rest on his chest. They stared each other down.

  “We don’t have time for this,” Aron suddenly said, lunging at the guard and planting his shoulder in his chest.

  The pair landed on the ground with a crash. Aron put his knees on either side of the guard’s chest. He grabbed the guard’s helmet, bringing his head up and smacking it down on the hard surface of the deck plate, then twisted it hard to one side. He heard a familiar crack as the Colonial Guard’s body went limp. He took a deep breath, trying to get air into his lungs and looked back at Florence.

  “Well, we’re in it now, Florence, let’s get this body inside the door before anyone sees it,” he said grabbing the guard’s legs.

  Florence stood there in shock looking at Aron, before peering down the corridor to see if the murder had been witnessed. They were alone.

  “Come on, Florence, we don’t have much time,” Aron said dragging the body over to the door.

  Florence composed herself and fought the sudden realisation that there was no turning back now. She turned and placed her hand on the scanner again. It identified her and the main entrance door slid open. Florence stepped inside, but kept her hands off the body. Aron sighed and heaved the dead weight past the doorway boundary, then allowed the entrance to seal shut behind them. There was a deathly silence as Aron looked around at the empty hatchway. Another door blocked their way. He watched as Florence went over to the secondary security door and placed her eye next to a scanner. A blue light lit up her face and the second doorway slid open. Aron began to feel his heart race. Maya was in here. Alive. Leaving the dead guard, he slowly followed Florence through the next hatchway and watched as it sealed behind them. They continued onwards, down the long metal walkway bridge and began to descend the staircase to the lower levels.

  Aron moved slowly, listening to the sounds of his footsteps on the stairway. His heart was beating fast, but he kept his senses focused. If they were suddenly discovered, he would have to move quickly. He cleared the foggy thoughts of what Maya had suffered her whole life. The walls that surrounded the stairway began to open up and Aron caught his first glimpse of what they were walking past. He stopped on the stairwell. The schematic that had been smuggled out by Greenly did not do the grand scale of the structure any justice. Coiling pipes and wires circling a central pillar. Hundreds of pods descended all the way to the lower levels. He could not help his mouth from opening. He saw a face. It looked asleep.

  “Please, Mr Elstone, we have to get moving,” Florence said.

  Aron could not hear her. He was staring at the quiet face of a young boy. He did not recognise him. An array of wires and tubes, interconnected throughout his body, made him look like a puppet on strings. He looked down at the pods and felt his heart sink. He was not prepared for this. It had been a mistake to come here. He was not strong enough to witness this level of horror. A hand suddenly touched his.

  “Aron, we need to keep moving,” Florence said, suddenly radiating empathy in her eyes.

  Aron exhaled and nodded. They began to move steadily down the staircase. Aron looked away from the pods and focused on his breathing. It was getting out of control.

  After several minutes they reached the ground level, stepping into what Aron thought, looked like a standard laboratory set-up. They walked over to a series of computer consoles mounted on the back wall. There was a single empty seat beside a desk that was covered in loose paper and diagnostic tools. Aron looked back at the column in the centre of the walkway. The gentle hum of the power generators filtered through the air as Florence began to look around. She looked past Aron searching the empty lab.

  “He must be on one of the upper levels,” she said.

  “Vishal?” Aron asked.

  He had never met him personally, but had heard rumours about the man. He had been hidden here for years. Like so many others. Florence nodded, then went back to the row of computer consoles on the wall. Aron walked over to the large column that stretched skywards through the hull of the space station. Large cables emerged from its base and crept all the way across the floor into the back wall, presumably where the energy that was being created by these poor souls was stored and distributed around the space stations. He turned back to Florence who was looking at him solemnly.

  “Well?” he hesitated to ask.

  Florence took a deep breath and pointed behind him. He turned immediately to see what she was pointing at. It was one of the pods off to his right. There were at least six in front of him that he could see and more wrapped around the circumference of the holding column. He turned back to Florence.

  “Third on the right,” she said quietly.

  Aron looked at the pod she was pointing at. He tried to move towards it, but was suddenly paralysed by fear. The unclothed figure of a sleeping girl was just visible behind a slightly frosted glass. He felt a wave of sadness encompass his whole body as he struggled to take a step towards the young girl in the glass. He moved closer. The gentle sound of computers, chirping in the background, filled his ears. He reached the pod and placed his hand on its surface, wiping away a thin layer of condensation, revealing the quiet sleeping face of a beautiful young girl. The face was one he immediately recognised. It was the face of his wife. As she once was. Her long brown hair gently moved in the fluid that surrounded her bare shoulders. Her body jerked slightly, causing Aron to move back from the glass. Her head moved. She was sleeping. Dreaming. He moved closer and placed both hands on the glass.

  “Maya?” he asked the sleeping girl cocooned and floating in the glass container.

  She twitched her head slightly, but her eyes remained closed. He looked at the wires and cables attached to her spine and head. A clear tube was placed in her open
mouth providing air. His knees began to grow weak and his hands began to tremble. A tear escaped from his eye and made its solitary way down the left side of his cheek.

  “Maya,” he said to her, “I’m so sorry.”

  His tear was joined by others as his control broke free. He began to feel happy, which confused him. She was alive. His happiness was fused with a sudden sense of anger that gripped his core and erupted like a burst through his heart. He looked at Florence.

  “Get her out!” he shouted at her, “Now!”

  Florence stood her ground and approached him quietly. She raised her hands in a non-threatening way in an effort to calm him.

  “It’s not that simple, Aron,” she said.

  “What did you do to her?” he shouted at her.

  He wanted to kill Florence. He wanted to burn the whole place to the ground, but most of all, he wanted to kill Arturo. He wanted to squeeze the life out of his insane mind with his bare hands. This madness was going to end, one way or another. He was sure of that now. He was resolute. Determined. It was time for Arturo Verge to die.

  “Aron, if we suddenly disconnect her from the pod, she will go into neural shock and be killed instantly. There is also a greater concern. The sudden drop in power levels could adversely affect the rest of the colony. It could shut down the life support systems in some of the main habitats,” Florence said.

  Aron looked back at the sleeping girl. He rubbed his index finger over the surface of the glass and rested his forehead against it.

  “I’ll get you out, Maya,” he said quietly.

  “What the hell is going on here!” said a voice suddenly from behind them.

  Aron turned to see Doctor Charles Vishal standing behind Florence. He was pointing a weapon at Aron’s head.

  Florence raised her arms and looked at Vishal.

  “Stop!” she said, “put down the weapon, Doctor, we need to talk.”

  Aron looked straight into Vishal’s eyes and thought about rushing him. He was at least six meters away, but he would not make the distance without being shot. He thought about trying anyway. This was the man that had imprisoned his daughter in a nightmare of machinery. He fought the urge to take vengeance here and now.