by Barry Kirwan
His bosses had their hands tied up with politics, but at least now he’d been granted temporary authority to act as a relatively free agent and coordinate whatever resources he could muster. As well as five military flight teams and support personnel, he had a small staff from the remnants of the Eden Mission to try to rewire, or whatever the equivalent was in alien terms, the automatic guidance system, based on the downloads IVS had received from Kostakis’ team before they’d disappeared. The steps they made were shared instantaneously with IVS, Josefsson and Antonia. Vince grit his teeth at the bitter irony that his most critical allies were now a handful of civilians he had only met this week, a self-serving politician, and the most ruthless commercial corporation that ever existed.
He flipped open a small radio that broadcast to the whole ship via an installed public address system in the tower and levels one and two.
"Okay, people, what say we leave?" As he snapped it shut, a klaxon blared out inside the ship. Vince beckoned to Sandy and Micah to follow him, as people started running around, and hatches snuffed out the external noise of the sea.
"Come on," Vince said. They made their way to the second, lower control room, which they now knew to be the real control hub. Vince nodded to Vasquez, positioned at the main console. A military corporal gave a stiff salute to Vince, ignoring Micah and Sandy despite their uniforms. Vince appreciated that the man could tell the difference.
"All ready here, Sir," he said.
Vince saluted back. Like many Chorazin, he had been in the army in the last war, and had no problem in either giving orders to military, nor, for that matter, having them carried out respectfully. He picked up a microphone, and switched it on. "Okay, everybody, we’re initiating take-off. I suggest you hang on to something." He looked over to the anxious-looking Corporal who held the metal ankh key.
"Do it," Vince ordered.
The man held his breath, and then dropped the key into the slot.
Nothing happened. They waited. He looked nervously at Vince.
"Again."
He tried several times – he pressed it, jabbed at it, and added some creative permutations, all of which had no effect.
"Damn!" Vince picked up the microphone. "Okay, people, stand down. We have a minor technical problem."
He turned, sighing, to the scientist, Gorman. "Any ideas? And saying I told you so is seriously not an option right now."
Gorman shifted from one foot to the other. "We made the key based on appearances, because all we had was a brief shot of what it looked like. But it might need to be a specific material, or have a magnetic code, or a host of other things."
"And I don’t suppose you’d have any idea where I can get one?" Vince asked, laconically.
But before the scientist could try to figure out a suitable reply, someone else spoke in a Mexican accent from the shadows at the back of the room.
'You need this," the man said.
They all turned to see a tanned mid-twenties man with black moustache and pony-tail. He wore a standard khaki military uniform, but one without any insignia. He was holding up a grey-blue ankh key. He was also wet through. Nobody had noticed him until now.
The Corporal and two other service-men both leveled pistols at the man, who did not flinch, staring at Vince.
"Who the hell are you? And how did you get onboard?"
"Does it matter? Here is the key you need. I had to kill a lot of Alicians to get it. We can chat later. We must go. Now."
"What’s the sudden hurry?" Vince feigned nonchalance.
"Check your perimeter sensors."
"Watch him," Vince instructed the Corporal. "If he moves, make sure he doesn’t again." He turned to another console on which several Chorazin screens were mounted. An officer began searching different external camera angles, and then halted. "What the …?" the ensign said. But Vince knew what it was, and it was swimming fast toward them, curving through the water like a shark. He turned to the wet-through man.
"Can it open the hatches?"
"You bet. It’s called a Q’Roth. You’re in its ship."
"Okay. You can explain – later." Vince picked up the microphone. "Everyone – dress rehearsal over – hold onto something."
He walked over to Ramires and snatched the key from his hand.
He strode back to the main console and slammed it into the recess. As he did so, everything froze and became mercurial. Shades of silver tinged every facet of the equipment, every line and crack of every face, the eyes, the pores, all their clothes and every surface. He had the feeling that they were outside of time while the universe moved beneath them, or rather moved outside the ship.
Vince didn’t breathe – it wasn’t that he couldn’t, but his brain told him it would be a really bad idea.
Chapter 44
Nightmare Run
Jennifer sucked air into her aching lungs. The fear of breathing in liquid vanished, or, rather, was overcome by the desperate need to inhale anything. Despite a faint sensation of vapor entering her lungs, which she decided was probably psychosomatic, the dread of drowning in liquid mercury proved erroneous. Even so, she bent forward to regain her breath. She heard coughing down below.
Within two minutes Dimitri swept into the control room along with several other technicians, half of them still dressed in their sleepwear.
"How long?" she croaked in Dimitri’s direction. He looked at his chronometer, and shook his head. "According to my watch, no time has passed, but we cannot rely on anything mechanical, since all movement froze. I had the definite sense of suspension of time, like being encased in glass. My thoughts simply paused. A fascinating sensation!"
Jennifer could see his excitement, while everyone else appeared closer to panic or nausea. Still, the others were all engineers and scientists driven by curiosity, and soon were poring over the monitors, and the recess that held the key.
She walked right up to Dimitri so only he could hear. "Were we really in some kind of liquid?"
"I do not know." He beamed. "This is such an adventure! A liquid would make sense, as it is irrepressible, so it would be a good dampener for any accelerative or decelerative effects, but there is no trace of residue. I think perhaps it was a perceptual illusion, a side-effect of the mode of transit itself."
She nodded. Then she remembered her companion. "Er… Dimitri – this is Cheveyo – he’s the one who saved me from the Alicians. He had the key.’ She turned to the Sentinel Master. "Cheveyo, have you actually travelled in one of these before?"
The man she addressed seemed to be listening for something. Finally he spoke, as much to himself as to them.
"Good. We may yet have enough time." He raised his voice, attracting all within listening range. "The aliens who built this ship – the Q’Roth – have not yet awoken, but they will. When they do they will storm the ship and kill everyone aboard. We cannot stop them entering. If we try to hide outside they will hunt us down. Once they have feasted on us and drained our energy, they will fill this vessel with newly hatched Q’Roth and make the trip back to Earth, to harvest the population. There are some fifty ships on Earth like this one. Each one can transport a hundred thousand Q’Roth. Each Q’Roth will extract the bio-electric life energy of hundreds of humans, and live from it for a thousand years. All humanity will be consumed."
The full stop after his last word was like a silence grenade. Many mouths hung open, and all smiles at having survived the transit vanished. Even Dimitri gaped at him. Jennifer spoke first. "Tell us what to do."
"Try again," Hendriks said, as Dimitri and the makeshift crew attempted to send them back to Earth. The key went back into the recess but nothing happened. There were mutterings and more than a few moans from the now-dressed crew; all thirty people who had been onboard squeezed into the smaller control room.
Eventually Cheveyo spoke, unperturbed. "It is as we believed. Long ago, one of my predecessors took a ship but never returned. We assume there is one key for coming here, and another for the retu
rn journey."
Jennifer studied Cheveyo. At the moment, she assumed, only the two of them knew there were nukes on board. He had clearly come here with a more or less empty ship, depriving the Q’Roth of a food supply, and was going to blow up the ship before it could be boarded, or, more likely she realized, just as it filled up with Q’Roth. His implacable gaze met hers. It seemed only minutes ago that she had agreed on a pact with him to replace Gabriel on this mission, but now it meant her own and her lover’s death. There had to be another solution.
Dimitri perked up. "I refuse to believe these ships can only go to these two locations. It’s absurd!"
Cheveyo nodded. His strangely accented voice radiated throughout the packed room. "I agree. But no one has ever been able to unravel the guidance system or its controls."
"We should go outside." Jennifer’s small voice, in contrast, flew through the room like an arrow vanishing into bushes, not finding any target. Only someone else’s authority could enable it to stick.
"She is right," Cheveyo said. "Here, we are corralled sheep awaiting slaughter. Out there we stand some chance."
Jennifer doubted he believed that, and wondered what game he was playing. But she knew that if they all stayed, they would die, and morale was free-falling into the abyss by the minute.
Some of the men began nodding, agreeing with Cheveyo, forgetting who had suggested it first. Jennifer was used to it, and right now didn’t particularly care. Urgent discussions and plans unfurled, and three groups were quickly formed, under Cheveyo’s implicit authority.
"The engineering team must stay here with the Professor to work on the guidance system. I need a volunteer – you," he pointed to a man who Jennifer had not seen before; she was certain he wasn’t a technician. "Take four people and move some of the larger crates outside to create an external perimeter and defensive position."
Jennifer was impressed – he had a confederate onboard, who was now being instructed to prepare the nuclear devices. At least, she thought, he’s off-loading them, so there is a small chance we can escape if we can find out how to operate the ship.
As Cheveyo reeled out instructions, she noticed how no one saw fit to interrupt, or to question the orders’ logic. They just needed someone to take charge. Right now, any plan would do.
He continued. "Last, I need five volunteers to come with myself and Jennifer to search for the Eden astronauts."
Gasps of surprise echoed around the room. Things had happened so quickly, that even Jennifer had not been thinking of any humans already there. She quickly assessed the odds of finding them as negligible, but had to admire the skill of this man, for the mere mention of the Ulysses crew, a team of military men, had an almost instant effect on the people – they now had hope and purpose – paper-thin if any of them thought about it, but, she witnessed, they didn’t, and it was enough to galvanize them into action.
Volunteers stepped forward from the ranks quickly. Jennifer instinctively picked out the young attractive woman who’d been eyeing Dimitri – Sophia her name badge said – to come with Cheveyo’s team. She didn’t feel like leaving her behind, just in case.
The planning was minimal and simplistic in reality, but it kept the pack from panicking and running off blindly in all directions. People formed the three groups, some already heading toward the lower levels to get to the ground access. The only problem for Jennifer was that Dimitri had been designated to stay inside. Before she had time to talk to her lover privately, Cheveyo pulled her to one side.
"You must leave him. He has the mind of a genius – maybe he can unlock the ship’s secrets. Your immediate path lies with me. If the enemy still sleeps, there is a chance we can inflict harm while they remain vulnerable. Besides, if you want you can run back here and be in time to die with him."
She glared at him but then realized he wasn’t being sarcastic – just matter-of-fact. She walked up to Dimitri and leant forward, whispering in his ear.
"If they come, I’ll be here. Please find the riddle of these scrolls; I know you can do it."
She kissed him gently on the cheek. But he pulled her towards him and embraced her openly in front of everyone. His big arms almost crushed her and conversation around them slowed. Polite coughing ensued. She closed her eyes, memorizing the feel of his skin, his still-sleepy smell, the pulse in his neck under her palm. Abruptly he let her go, and the full weight of his colossal intellect turned and hammered down on the instruments in front of him. She gazed at him a moment, remembering the first time she’d seen him lecture, and savoured the moment.
Cheveyo turned to leave, and she and five others followed him out of the room, the noise returning behind them like an onrushing tide. They headed wordlessly down the spiral walkway, following Cheveyo, to what end Jennifer didn’t know. As they neared the lower exit, she clutched the locket with her right hand and intoned inside her mind, watch over us, Gabe.
***
Rashid was half way up a small tree, at the edge of the forest which the ship had all but flattened. He surveyed the behemoth through night goggles, but with no obvious heat signature, it wasn’t possible to discern much detail – cold hard metal, no obvious openings or suggestions of where a door could be. After half an hour of observation, out of desperation, he fired a red flare above the craft to illuminate it. A couple of minutes later, with the parachuted incendiary spiralling down, he saw a crack open in one of the places he thought the door should most logically be, at the base in the middle of one of the ship’s sides. He had to lean forward precariously on the edge of the branch to aim his pulse rifle. He still did not know what might come out, human or Q’Roth. As his finger hovered over the trigger, the branch creaked, then cracked and snapped beneath him, and in that instant, the rifle fired. As he fell forwards and down, a tougher branch slammed into his head and shoulder. He landed on his back on soft, mossy ground, blood oozing from his nose. He felt as if someone had just punched him in the face.
"By all the Gods, this is not the time for such foolish accidents!" He sat for a while, gingerly pinching the cartilage at the top of his nose to stem the flow, and then tried to mop up the blood with his kerchief. Struggling to his feet, he wanted to know if he had hit anyone when the rifle had fired, but if the occupants were Q’Roth, he decided he had better get back to the ship. He jogged slowly; his vision kept blurring from the semi-concussive blow. He knew he must be in shock from the fall, and would have to rouse Zack. Things were going downhill rapidly. He ploughed his way through the trees, stumbling occasionally, to the edge of the desert that had now encompassed the Lander. It was then that he realized the fusion detonator had fallen out of his jacket, and must be lying at the bottom of the tree.
***
Kat ran despite the pain in her lungs, but she was losing her bearings – yet her only hope was to get to the Lander. Then a red flare lit up the night sky, and she saw the Lander glint beneath it. Thanks Zack! You’re a bloody marvel!
She ran in fast but long strides toward the flare, like in her marathon days. She needed to pace herself and not become short of breath when close to the ship. At least out here with the low level heat signature of the vegetation, and now with the flare itself, she could see better with the night goggles so she didn’t trip over small rocks or bushes.
The unmistakable sound of a pulse rifle crackled in the distance ahead of her. She hoped Zack and Rashid weren’t under attack. A second later, coming from some way behind her, she heard the pounding thuds of the young Q’Roth. It had obviously stopped when it had come out of the cave, probably getting its own bearings on this new planet, lending Kat a precious head start; but now it had resumed the hunt. Kat shifted gear to a sprint. She ran as fast as she could, ripping past rocks and shrubs, twigs and leaves whipping her face and outstretched arms, stinging her flesh. She knew from her nightmare that even though she thought this was her top speed, she could, and would, run faster before it was over.
She launched her last parachute flare so as to light up her
way, not even stopping to do it, and tossed the small flare gun aside. She’d already shed most of her gear in order to run faster. A branch she hadn’t seen clipped her night vision goggles and knocked them off her head. She kept running. She could hear the pounding on the ground less than thirty meters behind – it reminded her of the sound of a train: steady, rhythmic, a confident predator running down its prey, patient enough to wait for her to slip, slow down or make a mistake, or simply for the difference in their speed to close the gap. Kat pumped her arms harder.
Unlike her nightmare, she found she could channel her fear. She darted onwards, grazing bushes and dodging rocks by miniscule margins. She knew the creature was a matter of meters behind her now, as she glimpsed the top of the Lander up ahead – that meant the shrubbery would disappear and it would be open savannah in a few seconds. Mouth open and drawn back, eyes wide, arms pistoning furiously, she girded herself for the last sprint, thigh muscles burning, chest expanded, trying to take in more air to propel herself further, knowing that this would be the Q’Roth’s chance to accelerate too. She might just make it. Be there, Zack!
***
Rashid lurched groggily around the cockpit. He activated the stasis re-animation sequence, but it would take another five minutes for Zack to come around, unless the pain woke him first. The perimeter radar showed a group converging on the Lander, obviously coming from the ship. He knew Zack must have a back-up detonator for the fusion reactor, but he had no idea where it was.
"Wake up, my friend, I hate to admit it, but I need you!" Rashid realized that having found companions after eleven solitary months, he didn’t want to die alone.
He sealed the airlock and prepped the engines, though he saw it would be another ten minutes before lift-off was possible.