Generation (Shadows of the Void Space Opera Serial Book 1)

by J. J. Green

  “Good job, Lingiari,” the security officer said.

  “How’re you doing? Break anything?”

  Harrington unclipped her harness and moved her arm and legs, rotating her wrists and ankles. “I think I’m okay. How about you?”

  “Still alive, so no complaints.” He risked another look at the bodies around them. “Can’t say the same for those poor buggers.”

  Grantwise must have been head down when the Galathea had impacted the planet surface. Blood mixed with brain matter oozed from his shattered skull. Loba was on his back, his eyes open and blank, his mouth gaping and bloody. Half a severed tongue lay next to him. The rest of the officers were also visibly, graphically dead.

  Vomit forced its way into Carl’s mouth, and he turned his head to let it out. When his stomach was finally empty and he could retch no more, he collapsed back into his seat and closed his eyes. The rustle of clothing to his side told him Harrington was getting up. He should, too. They had to check on the crew and find out who needed their help. He unclipped his harness and pulled himself to his feet. He took another look at Grantwise. He’d always envied the man. His job, his status, his distinction, and popularity were all that Carl had wanted. It was funny that now that he was the pilot, the only pilot on board, he found he didn’t care anymore. And he was sure Grantwise would have given it all up to be able to live.

  The shuttle was gone and the Galathea was unlikely to fly again. Now, their lives would be a matter of survival until they could be rescued. Status, distinction and popularity—none of them would count for anything.

  Harrington was already at the ship’s comm center. Carl joined her. She was pressing the panel, but it stayed dark. She spoke into the mic. “Ship’s crew, ship’s crew?” No sound of her words came from the corridor outside. The comm system was down. “Looks like we’re operating on face-to-face comm,” she said.

  “Figures,” said Carl. “That was some crash landing. We’ll have to see what else it took out. Let’s have a look around.”

  They went first to the medical center. There would be injuries, no doubt, and they needed to know how well Sparks was set up to deal with them, assuming he’d survived.

  The door was closed but not locked. They slid it open, pushing it into its recess. Dr. Sparks had obeyed Carl’s instruction to get into his crash seat, and he hadn’t left it. The man was trembling, and the whites of his eyes showed. It was only after repeated assurances that he was safe that he undid his harness and rose from the seat. Harrington told him to check his equipment and find out what was still working. She also told him to ready his first aid supplies, because they would no doubt be sending him some casualties soon.

  The man said barely a word in reply. As they left him, he was counting the same bandages over and over again.

  A few people wandered the corridors, dazed. The crew members were beginning to venture from their cabins. Sounds of groaning and crying were coming from some rooms. Carl and Harrington located the injured personnel to see what they could do to help. Most of the traumas the crew had suffered weren’t severe. The copilot and security officer matched up healthy crew with those in need of medical treatment, and instructed them to take the injured along to Sparks and give him what support they could. Some of the crew were on this already.

  They came across several dead infected officers, including Margret and the second mate, whom Alef had shot. They were in the personal cabin area, checking each room. Carl was pondering how they were going to get down the side of the ship to the planet surface, and if they even wanted to get to the planet surface, when a thought struck him with horror. He hadn’t seen Flux. He didn’t know if the little fella had survived the crash.

  He dashed into a cabin. It was empty. Leaping onto a chair, he pulled the covering off an air vent and shouted his friend’s name into the aperture.

  “I forgot about your pet,” said Harrington.

  “He’s not a pet,” replied Carl before shouting the name again. He waited. No familiar rustling of wings was coming from the shaft. He waited some more. Carl stepped down from the chair and ran a hand through his hair. Where might Flux have gone? Had he heard Carl’s warning? Had he been able to get somewhere safe before the ship had crashed?

  “Try not to worry,” said Harrington. “He seemed pretty tough to me. Come on. I’ll help you find him.”

  “Thanks, but I dunno where to look. He can fit in places people can’t. He could be anywhere.”

  “Well, where’s his favorite place? Maybe he went there.”

  Carl frowned, then his face brightened. “I know.” He ran from the cabin, and arrived at his own room in record time. Though it was his own, it looked unfamiliar. He could hardly believe he’d last been in it less than a day ago. “Flux?” he called into empty air. There was no answer. Krat. He noticed the covers on his bunk were lumpy. One of the lumps was Flux-sized. Could it be him? Under Carl’s covers was the animal’s favorite place to sleep. If it was him, why wasn’t he answering?

  “Could you...” he said to Harrington, pointing at the bunk, “could you check there for me?”

  The security officer went over and gently lifted the Polestar blanket. The pale brown creature was lying in the middle of the bunk, wrapped in his wings, taking up the best spot, as was his habit. His eyes were closed. A wave of despair welled up in Carl’s chest. He put a hand over his face and turned away.

  “Hold on, I think he’s asleep,” said Harrington. “Look, he’s breathing.”

  Carl leapt to the bunk and gently picked up the animal. His wings unfolded, and his eyes opened. He gave a great yawn. “Flux, you **** ****** *****,” shouted Carl.

  “Woah, calm down you **** ****,” replied Flux. “I was only taking a nap.” He climbed onto Carl’s shoulder and began grooming himself.

  Harrington also swore. “Lingiari, there’s someone else we’re forgetting. Where’s Lee?”

  Carl’s eyes widened. “You’re right. Where would she be? Where haven’t we looked?”

  “I told her to send Earth a packet. She could do that from any comm access point, but she would have been trying to hide from the infected officers. I don’t think she would have gone to her own cabin.”

  “I know. Maybe she went back to our rendezvous point,” said Carl.

  The two of them ran to Margret’s cabin. Carl’s guess had been correct. The navigator was there. But was on the floor by Margret’s bunk. In her concern to send a message packet to Earth, she hadn’t sat in the cabin’s crash seat in time. She was on her back. Her eyes were closed, and her face was peaceful. She looked as though she were sleeping, but when Harrington listened to her chest, she couldn’t hear a heartbeat.

  Chapter Thirty

  The ship was falling. Things were going badly wrong. It was ever thus on the physical plain. The same problem plagued them once they left the void. Now that they were inhabiting individual bodies, they could no longer meld and flow into and through each other, and they began to differ.

  The alien had not been identified by the humans, and it needed to remain hidden. Soon, it might be the only one of its kind left aboard the starship. The one who had replaced the commander of the space vessel had failed. It had made errors of judgment, underestimating the resourcefulness of the humans called Harrington, Lingiari, and Lee, and allowing them to take control of the equipment items used for attack and defense. It was also due to the failed one’s incompetency that the humans had destroyed the shuttlecraft, the best method of transportation to the planetary traps.

  Error upon error compiled. The commander replacement deserved to die, yet it had begged for its life. Foolish. Already, it had lost its understanding that they were all one. Its ending did not matter if they succeeded in their aim. One life signified nothing. And the others...the others had agreed to save it! They had identified their own individuality within the threatened one. They had empathized. Madness.

  Its arguments had gone unheard. The others had decided to risk everything to save one, a
n insignificance, as they all were when compared to the whole.

  Before they left the void, the steps were laid out clearly: replication, generation, domination. Nothing else mattered. Its kind were not like the species of the physical realm. It pitied their separation. It did not wish to become like them. The others had adopted this insanity, but it would not. It would hold true to the plan.

  Its advantage was that it had not acted with the others. The humans did not know it for what it was. For the time being, it could safely move among them, unrecognized. If the others did not succeed—and according to the thoughts it could read as they fought the humans at the ship’s controls, it looked as though they would not—it could continue to work toward its goal, undiscovered.

  If the others were destroyed, it would survive as the last replicant. Only one was needed to move onto the next step. Let the humans kill its fellows. Seduced by the egoism of individuality, they were useless already. They did not deserve to return to the void and reunite. They would bring only contamination and perversion.

  Only let it survive this terrible fall to the entrapment planet, and it would hold true to the goal of its kind. They would dominate this solid world. They would control all its inhabitants and bend them to their will. They would have everything they wanted. All they needed was another world on which to open their traps. These humans were wise to their ways, but on a new planet, they would find fresh bodies to absorb and replicate.

  It must stay silent and safe, and all would be well in time.

  A voice came over the intercom: “Crew to crash seats, now. This isn’t a drill. This is not a drill. Crash seats immediately. Everyone.”

  It slipped into a seat in the cabin and fastened its safety belt.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  “Grab her legs,” said Jas, lifting the navigator’s shoulders.

  “But, I thought she’s...” said Lingiari.

  “She’s not dead,” shouted Jas. “She’s not dead until she’s cold and dead. Let’s see if that misborn doctor can do his job.”

  The copilot’s features clouded. “I get what you mean, but do really think she’d want that? Here? When there’s no hope...?”

  “I’m not asking you, Lingiari. It’s an order. Help me carry her or damn me but I’ll drag her there by myself.”

  The copilot lifted the limp Lee’s legs, and the two of them ran with her, carrying the navigator between them like a hunting kill.

  At the medical center, Sparks was surrounded by injured crew and uninjured crew members who were trying to help him. The place was in chaos. It was a chaos that Jas cleared with a bellowed order for everyone to get out of their way. The crowd cleaved, creating a path to the beleaguered doctor, who was talking to a patient with a bloody, gashed knee who was sitting on his examining couch. The patient hobbled out of the way at the sight of Jas and Lingiari carrying the fatally hurt navigator. They laid her down gently.

  The doctor stiffened at the sight of Jas, and quickly hunched over Lee. He held a stethoscope to her heart, shone a torch into her eyes, and rubbed his knuckles against her chest. Jas watched like a hawk. When his brief examination was complete, Sparks looked at the floor and shook his head.

  “No. We can put her in stasis,” said Jas.

  “I’m afraid it’s too late for that,” replied the doctor. “She’s been oxygen-deprived for too long. I could operate, but her brain has been irreparably damaged.”

  “No, it isn’t too late. People who have been dead longer than her have been brought back. Put her on life support, now, and we’ll start up the stasis bank.”

  “But—”

  Jas leaned toward the doctor until their noses almost touched. “Life support. Now,” she breathed.

  As if touched by a cattle prod, Sparks leapt into action, calling for help to move Lee.

  The security officer and Lingiari went next door to the stasis room. Like the rest of the ship, only emergency lighting illuminated it. Jas went immediately to one of four small, square doors set in the metal wall and pressed the screen next to it. It remained black.

  “Harrington,” said Lingiari. Jas ignored him and tried another panel, which also failed to light up. “Harrington.” She tried a third panel with the same result. “H—”

  “WHAT?” Jas turned on the copilot, rage threatening to overwhelm her.

  The man shook his head. “Never mind.”

  Jas breathed deeply in and out. “Sorry. I’m sorry I shouted. I overreacted. I’m trying to get a handle on that. What did you want to say?”

  “The stasis containers aren’t working because we’re on emergency power. Preserving what’s left of the dead isn’t a priority on a stricken ship. I’m sorry, Harrington, but Lee’s had it.”

  Jas gazed into the man’s eyes as she tried to comprehend what he was saying. He was right, but his words didn’t fit with what she wanted to hear, with what she needed to hear. Though the last twenty-four hours had been harrowing, she felt like she’d developed a bond with this man and with the woman lying all but dead in the medical center, a bond that was closer than she’d ever been to another human being but one.

  For a moment, for a split second, Jas nearly let down the adamantine facade she’d built up to protect herself from the vulnerability of human companionship. She nearly fell into Lingiari’s arms and sobbed. Then the moment was gone. She wasn’t prepared to lose anyone ever again. She would not let that happen. “The units,” she exclaimed. “The defense units. We can use their power to keep Lee in stasis.”

  The copilot’s eyes widened. “Do you think?”

  “We have to try, Lingiari. Come on.”

  ***

  Locating the defense units took longer than Jas liked, and several of them—the ones who had tried to force entry to the flight deck—were still too damaged to be of any use, but eventually they had four of the remaining ones jerry-rigged up to the stasis unit.

  Jas and Lingiari watched as Sparks placed Lee in the stasis container. A couple of hours on life support had leant the navigator a deceptively healthy color, and it was difficult to believe, watching her chest rise and fall as the machine breathed for her, that she was essentially dead. Jas’ hope was that enough of her mind had survived, and that, when they finally made it back to Earth, even if the rest of her brain was useless, the cloners could grow her another body in which to transfer the personality, experiences, and memories that comprised Navigator Lee.

  There might have been some murmurs of resentment among the crew that the defense units, their most valuable assets, were being devoted to the probably hopeless endeavor to preserve the mind of a single crew member, but Jas chose not to hear them. And so far, no one had stepped forward to question her authority.

  Several hours later, a thorough survey of the ship had revealed many facts. Fresh water still flowed through the pipes, though no one knew for how long, and there was no air movement from the vents, not even a breath. This meant that the ship’s air wasn’t being recycled, filtered, or replenished with oxygen. Though it would take weeks for the loss to be noticeable, if they couldn’t fix the system, they would eventually have to open up the ship to allow the planet’s atmosphere inside. Without air being warmed, the temperatures aboard ship would align with the local levels, which were uncomfortably low. They lacked waste recycling, too, and without that they would be relying on the finite supply of food in the hold. There’d been no indication there was anything fit for human consumption on the planet.

  In short, they couldn’t survive being stranded there forever.

  ***

  Jas was lying on her bunk in her cabin, beyond exhausted and trying to sleep, when there was a knock at the door. She wearily got to her feet and pushed it open. What she saw snapped her awake. Two of the crew had brought Haggardy to her. First Mate Haggardy, technically now the master of the ship.

  “Bring him in,” she said, returning to her bunk.

  She’d almost forgotten about the man. Nearly every crew member of the Galathe
a had been accounted for. The infected officers they knew of were all dead, though there was a question over exactly who else might have been infected. The rest of the crew had survived without life-threatening casualties.

  And then there was Haggardy.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” said the first mate.

  “You do, do you?” Jas leaned back on her arms. “What’s that?”

  “It’s no secret I went down to the planet. I was forced to, like the others, but I wasn’t affected like the rest. I was never possessed by aliens. I outwitted Loba, and pretended to be one of them. I had nothing to do with what they did. I didn’t hurt anybody.”

  Jas recalled that Haggardy had been there when they destroyed the shuttle, and that he hadn’t countermanded her when he’d had the opportunity, but she wasn’t going to help him out with that tidbit.

  “I don’t know, Haggardy. Why should I believe you? I have no way of telling who you are. The simplest solution would be to force you off the ship.”

  “Don’t do that,” he blurted, glancing behind him at the two crew members who hovered in Jas’ doorway. “I tell you what, I promise I’ll defer to your command. Now that Loba’s dead, I’m next in rank, and I should assume leadership. But I won’t. I’ll stand aside, and I’ll tell the crew that. You can be master of the ship.”

  “Me? Master?” Jas hadn’t thought about who should lead them now. “But shouldn’t it be...?” She paused and tried to remember who was above her in the chain of command.

  “They’re all dead, Harrington. Second and third mate, chief engineer, purser, and I hear you’ve put Lee in stasis. Below me, there’s no one left until we get to you.”