A murmur ran through his audience, but he quieted them with his raised hand. “We’ve suffered problems in the lab, the officers’ quarters and the mess, even on the bridge, so we must all be on our guard. If you detect anything suspicious, bring it to my attention immediately.”
A notification sounded on his console, and he tapped the screen. “What is it?”
“It’s Parkins, sir. Sorry to interrupt, but you’re needed on the bridge. There’s something wrong with the nav system.”
Coverack looked up and barked, “Back to your stations. Now!”
CHAPTER 9
Joffe watched Doctor Giadrini hurry into the medical bay and take a seat opposite him. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” she said. “I was in the XO.”
Joffe shrugged. “No problem.”
“Okay, how can I help you?”
“It’s my hand.” Joffe showed her his hand, and his cheeks flushed. He shouldn’t be embarrassed, but his palm and fingers were raw and inflamed, and the sight sickened him. Giadrini studied his hand. “How long has it been like this?”
“Since last night. It itches like crazy. Kept me awake.”
“It looks like an allergic reaction, but before I start running tests, have you any idea what might’ve caused it?”
Joffe scratched absently at his forearm. “I got kind of sweaty yesterday. Maybe that set it off.”
“Unlikely,” Giadrini said, “but tell me more.”
“I was in the hazmat suit and—”
“What?” Giadrini interrupted. “A hazmat suit! Why didn’t you tell me that in the first place?”
“Sorry, I didn’t think.” Joffe shifted uncomfortably. “I was real careful. I decontaminated everything—”
Giadrini held up her hand to cut him off, then she looked him in the eye. “Why were in a hazmat suit? What were you handling?”
Joffe swallowed then recounted the essential points of his time in the GCA bay, being careful to explain how cautious he’d been.
Giadrini stood slowly. “Are you okay to walk? No dizziness? Fainting spells?”
“I’m fine apart from this damned itch. Just tired.”
“I want you to follow me.” Giadrini took a step back.
“All right.” Joffe stood and rubbed at his upper arm and shoulder. “Where are we going?”
“I want you to rest for a while. We have a quiet room you can use.”
“I don’t need to rest. I don’t understand.”
“It’s just a precaution. But I need you to stay for a while until we figure this out.” She backed across the room, keeping her eyes on him. “And I want you to think about everywhere you’ve been since you went to the GCA bay.”
Joffe took a step toward her. “There was breakfast in the mess. Before that, I was in my quarters. I visited the lab yesterday.” He paused to rub at his neck, his fingers clawing at the skin. “And the bridge.”
Giadrini’s eyes went wide as she recalled the captain’s words: problems in the lab, the officers’ quarters and the mess, even on the bridge. She stepped back again and came up against the wall, almost stumbling in surprise. She yelped and Joffe hurried to help.
“No!” she cried, and Joffe stopped in his tracks. For a moment, no one spoke, then Giadrini put a hand on her chest, regaining her composure. “I’m sorry, but I don’t need help. I’m fine.” She reached out to open the glass door next to her. “Go inside and take a rest, okay?”
Joffe nodded slowly. “All right, but I still don’t see what this is about.”
“Probably nothing, but please do as I ask.” She ushered Joffe into the room and shut the door behind him.
“Thanks,” Joffe said, but when he turned around and peered through the glass, the doctor was already hurrying away.
Joffe stared into the empty medical bay, but he soon tired of waiting and crossed to the bed to sit down, running his hands over the crisp, white sheet. The itching was worse now, like a thousand hot needles piercing his skin, but the sheet felt cool, and he swung his feet up from the floor and laid down, resting his head on the soft pillow. That’s nice, he thought. But what the hell got into the doc?
He closed his eyes, thinking back over their disjointed conversation. She’d freaked out when he’d told her about the GCA bay, about how he’d gone back yesterday to tidy up. He’d hoped to impress her with his professionalism, his attention to detail. He’d wanted her to know that he wasn’t the kind of man to leave his workplace in a mess with tools lying on the floor.
The cleaning tools!
Joffe’s eyes flew open. When he’d stowed the tools away, he’d noticed that the plastic jaws had been damaged, the foam lining degraded and crumbling away. The jaws had held the foreign object so perhaps… He shook his head. He would’ve worn his gloves to tidy up. Of course he would. He was careful. Professional. He always wore his gloves.
And as he stared up at the ceiling, he scratched his hand.
CHAPTER 10
A shudder ran through the bridge, and Coverack’s chair bucked beneath him as if attempting to throw him from his seat. The first officer cried out, but Coverack simply sat back and opened a channel from his console. “Engineering, report.”
The only reply was a crackle of static, then a distorted voice broke through: “…an organic growth. We can’t stop it. It’s spread into control systems, comms, navigation, propulsion. Main engines are heading for critical overload. We can’t shut them down. There’s nothing we can—” The message cut off abruptly, and when Coverack looked around, every officer was staring at him in silence.
“My console is unresponsive,” he stated. “As of now, we have lost control of the ship.” He paused. “If our main engines go critical, The Pharaon will be destroyed, but the landers can make it to V536. I’m about to give the order to abandon the ship. If you have some reason to disagree with my assessment of the situation, now’s the time to say so.”
No one moved a muscle nor said a word.
“Very well,” Coverack said. “Our first duty is to get the landing craft underway. Separation takes ten minutes. In that time, we must get as many crew aboard the landers as we can. Any remaining crew will take to the escape pods. Is that clear?”
There was a chorus of agreement.
“Good luck, everyone. Do your duty.” Coverack paused for a split-second, then, “Abandon ship.”
CHAPTER 11
Joffe sat up with a start, the alarms loud enough to pierce his skull. “Oh my God! Abandon ship!”
He hurried to the door and tried the handle, but it was locked, and there was no one on the other side of the glass. If he was going to get out, he’d have to do it himself.
He scanned the room. There was a chair by the bed, but it was plastic and looked flimsy. The bed though, had a metal frame and he knelt beside it. The frame was complex, made from a series of adjustable sections bolted together. He selected a steel tube held by only two bolts and tried to loosen the nuts by hand, but they were fastened too tight and his fingers were slick with sweat. If only he had his tool belt now! Focus! he told himself. Use your brain.
He jumped to his feet and went to the wall cabinet. It wasn’t locked, and he wrenched the door open, almost ripping it from its hinges. Bandages and bottles spilled to the floor, but Joffe paid them no heed. He rifled through the cabinet and his hands closed on something solid: a set of stainless steel scissors. Did the bed’s bolts have slotted heads, or were they plain?
Joffe knelt beside the bed, scissors in hand. “Yes!” He was in luck. Hands shaking, he found the correct bolt and inserted the scissors’ blades into its slot. They fitted well enough, but as soon as he tried to turn them, they slipped free.
Cursing, Joffe gritted his teeth and tried again, pressing the scissors home until the metal bit into his hand. “Come on!” he growled. And this time, when he turned the scissors, the bolt began to move. Almost there! With his other hand, he reached around and held the nut, but it was still too tight to loosen by hand.
&nb
sp; He adjusted his grip, reapplied the scissors and turned the bolt again until he felt the nut give, then he held the bolt still and spun the nut free until it fell onto the floor. He turned his attention to the second bolt, and a moment later he yanked the steel tube from the frame.
Joffe leaped to his feet and ran to the door, then he swung the tube with both hands and struck the glass with all his strength. “Shit!” His blow bounced back harmlessly without even making a scratch. Toughened glass, he thought. But he wasn’t beaten yet. The door’s lock was mechanical: an assembly of rods and levers. And what had been put together could surely be smashed apart. Joffe went to work on the lock, his arms a blur of frenzied motion, unleashing a barrage of blows as steel rang out against steel.
The handle gave way first, bending beneath his onslaught then coming free from the door, but still, Joffe carried on. The lock’s housing buckled and distorted, the tortured metal giving way with agonizing slowness.
Joffe was exhausted, his arm muscles on fire, but he would not give in. “Come, on, you, bastard!” he yelled, his words keeping time with his relentless assault on the lock. And then, with a sharp crack, the battered mechanism surrendered, its housing shattered almost beyond recognition.
Joffe let out a cry, and when he shoved the door with his shoulder, it shuddered open.
“I’ve done it,” he breathed. Now all he had to do was make it off the ship.
He staggered across the medical bay then let himself out into the corridor. The place was empty, but in the distance, he could hear shouts and the sound of running. He was not alone.
I can make it, he told himself. I have to. At least, I have to try.
CHAPTER 12
Landing Craft A lurched from side to side as if shaken by a mighty hand. The central hold was crammed to capacity, officers and crew standing shoulder to shoulder, and Chief Navigation Officer Robert Taylor stumbled into the man next to him. “My God! That was The Pharaon,” Taylor said. “Her engines must’ve blown. She’s gone.”
His neighbor shuddered, and Taylor said, “Hey, are you okay?”
The man’s head was down, his arms wrapped tight around his chest, and when he mumbled something, Taylor had to bend down to hear him. “Did you say Parkins? He stayed on the bridge, trying to help. Maybe he made it to the pods.”
The man buried his face in his hands.
“Don’t worry,” Taylor said. “You’ll find him when we make planetfall.”
The man looked up, his face pale, glistening with sweat.
“It’s you!” Taylor breathed. “I didn’t realize. You look like hell. What happened?”
But Nathan Joffe simply hung his head. And a bead of perspiration dripped from his brow onto the floor, where it seeped between two panels and disappeared.
EPILOGUE
Lieutenant Connor Davey squeezed his way into the crowded cockpit of Landing Craft B and clamped his hand onto the shoulder of the man in front of him. “Out!”
The man turned, his face flushed, his eyes wild. “What? I’m the same rank as you. I’m entitled to be here.”
“You’re Pharaon crew,” Davey stated. “You’re not assigned to the lander, and you’re certainly not a pilot, so get the hell out of here, and take all these people with you.” He raised his voice. “If you’re not on the designated flight crew for this craft you need to get out of the way and let these people do their—” The floor dropped away beneath Connor’s feet, the lander plunging, swaying, and a thundering boom rattled through the cockpit. Connor grabbed onto the wall to steady himself, and this time, when he yelled out his command to leave, the excess personnel began filing out.
Except for one man.
Davey stepped forward. “Same goes for you, McIntyre. You have no place in here.”
Joe McIntyre turned slowly, a scowl on his lips. “Is that right?”
“Yeah, so get back in the hold with everyone else. You’re not needed, and the crew needs to concentrate if they’re going to stand a chance of making planetfall.”
Mac held up his hand, a rectangle of blue plastic between his fingers: a circuit board. “See this?” He thrust the board toward Davey’s face. “Know what this is, Lieutenant?”
Davey set his jaw. “I don’t have time for games, Mac. Either you get out now, or I throw you out.” He let his hand rest on the sonic pistol at his waist.
Mac grunted under his breath, then he turned to the comms operator. “I have a few things to check out in the server bay. If you have any more problems, give me a call.”
Hunched over her console, the comms operator, Evelyn Naidu, nodded in acknowledgment without looking up from her task, and Mac walked out, pushing Davey aside with his shoulder as he passed.
Davey didn’t react. He simply waited for Mac to leave then pressed the cockpit door firmly shut behind him.
The pilot, Matt Pierdew, called out, “Thanks, Connor.”
“No problem,” Davey replied. He took the jump seat alongside the cockpit door, buckling the safety harness. “I’ll stay here and keep folks from getting in your hair.”
No one replied, the crew intent on their consoles.
The nav officer, Katherine Rhodes, called out, “Course correction. Attitude adjustment plotted.”
“Got it,” Pierdew responded. “Course correction confirmed. Attitude adjustment programmed in.” He puffed out his cheeks. “All systems nominal. Damn good thing Mac pulled that board.”
The co-pilot, Jordan Beech, agreed: “Saved our bacon.”
A tremor ran through the cockpit floor, and Davey leaned forward to peer out through the starboard viewport. In the distance, a faint glow showed where The Pharaon had been just moments before. He swallowed hard, then caught the nav officer’s eye. “Katherine, The Pharaon—are we in danger from the debris?”
She nodded, her expression grim. “We’re going as fast as we can. There’s nothing else we can do.”
“Right.” Davey sat back, pushing his fears aside, and trying very hard not to think about his wife and children; they’d be huddled together in their cabin, clinging to each other for comfort. He could go to them, but he’d help them best by staying in the cockpit and protecting the flight crew. All he needed to do was keep a clear mind and be ready for anything.
“Prepare for final approach,” Pierdew called out.
Davey’s stomach lurched as the lander banked, stars sweeping across the forward viewport in a vivid blur. And there it was: the planet that would be their salvation.
Connor stared, his mouth dry, as the lander plummeted toward the planet, the seconds screaming past at a surreal rate, the alien world below them filling the viewport.
“Losing contact with Lander A,” Naidu said. “Wait. They’re sending out a distress call. They’re reporting a system failure.”
“We can’t help,” Pierdew responded. “Nav, check our attitude again. I’m getting a warning here.”
“Will do,” Rhodes replied. “We’re within safe parameters, but I’ll recalculate. Coming through to you now.”
Pierdew ran his hands over his console. “Okay, that’s done it. Looking good.” He paused. “Entering the atmosphere in ten seconds. Hold on tight. At this speed, it’s going to be rough.”
Davey sat very still, his hands clenched into fists. Every muscle tightened, every nerve jangled with the need for action, but there was nothing he could do. This was not his domain, and he was no more than a passenger.
A stream of light flared over the forward viewport, a gushing glow of incandescence, and a thrumming vibration filled the cockpit. Davey’s seat shuddered beneath him, wall panels rattled, and a droning whine whistled in his ears. Pierdew and the crew were talking via their headsets, rattling off orders and confirmations, but Davey couldn’t make much sense of what they were saying; he only knew that they sounded confident and decisive.
The lander shook as if buffeted by a surging storm, the bulky craft’s walls groaning in protest. Somewhere, an alarm sounded, and as the co-pilot silenced
it, a sharp screech of tortured metal cut through the background noise.
“What the hell was that?” Davey called out.
Rhodes looked up as if seeing him for the first time. “A cargo bay door failed. Only a side bay. Doesn’t affect the hold or the cabins. Nothing to worry about.”
Dave stared at her. Nothing to worry about? Parts were falling off the lander, and there was nothing to worry about!
“Initiating braking sequence in five seconds,” Pierdew said, his voice raised but calm and clear. “Four. Three. Two. One. Braking.”
“All thrusters firing,” Beech responded. “We have a green panel.”
“Nav, how’s that course coming?” Pierdew asked. “Did you find somewhere flat enough?”
“Not yet,” Rhodes said. “I’m picking up some atmospheric interference. Sensors keep going offline. I need more time to scan the surface.”
A tense silence hung in the air.
“We can’t wait for a surface scan,” Pierdew stated. “Just find me a stretch of solid ground.”
“Will do,” Rhodes replied. “I’m picking up some sort of—”
An alarm blared.
A series of hollow thuds reverberated through the cockpit. “We lost that cargo bay door,” Rhodes went on. “We’re shedding cargo.”
Davey’s seat bucked beneath him. His teeth rattled together.
“Losing attitude control,” Beech said. “It’s gone. Attitude control offline. Pitch holding steady for now, but we won’t be able to maintain it for long.”
“Emergency landing,” Pierdew barked. “Increasing power to thrusters. Find me a spot, Nav.”
Rhodes shook her head, staring down at her console.
“Nav!” Pierdew insisted. “Right now.”
“Okay, okay,” Rhodes replied. “Here. Coming through to you now. I’ve no idea what’s down there, but it’s flat.”
Skeleton Crew Page 3