Project Columbus: Omnibus

by J. C. Rainier

  “You know what?” he replied with a broad grin. “The ship may have crashed, but my family was saved from the War. Between that and the fact that you’ve managed to get my daughters away from their damn cell phones and texting, I’m on Cloud Nine. I’m your man, Captain.”

  Haruka nodded and then turned to Troy. “I was a bit conflicted with you, Troy. I know you worked in construction back on Earth, so your skills are unimaginably valuable. But you’ve also brought me the most detailed reports of the surrounding area. For now, I’d like you to be my Lead Scout.”

  Troy cocked his head to the side. “For now, Captain?”

  “When the time comes I plan to put your other skills to use. If you accept the position, I want you to immediately start grooming one of your scouts to take your place. Trust me, the faith I place in you is great, no matter what the title or skill set I demand.”

  He nodded. “So you want me to be a scout now and help you build later, then. I can dig it.”

  “Luis, I understand that Gabi has been having a hard time with you going out on scouting runs,” Haruka said. “And that your wife’s hands are full with those two orphans. I’m taking you off of scouting assignment effective immediately and keeping you close to your family. I want you as my Chief of Security.”

  Luis exhaled, his shoulders slumped, and he smiled. “A change would be nice. Thank you, and I accept.”

  Haruka clapped her hands together. “Perfect. I have a staff now. Let’s start this meeting. Since I’m sure none of you were prepared for this, I don’t expect much in the way of reports or questions from you this first time around. I know that will change, and please feel free to bring up whatever topics or concerns you have in our meetings.” She waited for her staff to nod in agreement. Her smile disappeared and her face hardened. “The issue for this meeting is huge. I don’t want any of you to take this lightly because it affects the well being of every survivor in this pod. Simply put, we can’t stay here and expect to be picked up, nor can we trust the pod in the long term. We have to move out.”

  Haruka waited for a surprised reaction or questions about why, but her four companions just looked at her and nodded, stone faced. Shocked, she asked, “Were you expecting this?”

  James answered, “We’ve known it was a good possibility for a couple of days now. The pod has been quickly deteriorating, probably due to the stress of having been rolled during its landing. Take the rear ramp, for instance. It’s getting really sticky when opening and closing. We’re afraid it won’t work at all in a couple more days.”

  “We held discussions with many of the survivors the night you first got here,” Emilia added. “We figured that if you survived out there alone for a night with only a few supplies, that we as a whole group could support each other to move somewhere else. We just never knew where.”

  Next was Troy’s turn. “Also, none of us wanted to give the order. We were kind of hoping you would. We may be forming bonds with people here, but you’re a military officer. Your word gets people to move.”

  I think Sergeant Leight would disagree with that.

  “Alright,” Haruka said. “Do you think we could get everyone ready to move by first light tomorrow?”

  “I think we can manage that if we get to work on it soon,” said James.

  “Good. Get all the gear in order. I’ll give priority lists that you can work through so we maximize the usefulness of what we take. We can use any passenger luggage that has shoulder or arm straps to increase our carrying capacity. Troy, get your four best scouts together; they’re going as a separate group on a side mission.”

  “Pathfinding?” he asked.

  “No. I want them to carry as much food and water as you can and make for the area where pod ten went down. There have been no reports from there, but that doesn’t mean that the pod is lost. Their radio might be broken like ours was. If you find any survivors, bring them down the coast to the pod eleven site. That’s where our main group will head.”

  “You got it, Captain.” He turned to face James. “Mind if I take your boy Will? He’s done real good so far.”

  The color drained from James’s face for a moment, but he nodded. “Just take real good care of him, okay?”

  Troy laughed, a deep rumble from his belly. “That street goes both ways. You’ve gotta watch over my daughter Gina while I’m not in camp. Lord help you with three teenage girls around.”

  James gulped, and his knees looked like they might buckle. “You’re a cruel man, Bryant.”

  Haruka smiled and shook her head. “Luis, I need you to distribute the weapons and make sure that the armed survivors are spaced throughout the party when we move. We should have about a dozen rifles after we’re done arming Troy’s scouts. If you find that others are willing to carry pistols, you can distribute them as you see fit.”

  “Will do, Captain,” he replied.

  “Emilia,” she continued. “I want you to show all of the passengers what that fruit that Gabi ate looks like. Let them know that it is edible, and they can eat any they find along the way, but also let them know that we don’t know what else may be edible or poisonous, and to avoid consuming any other native plants until we identify and test them.”

  “Yes, Captain.”

  Haruka looked at her companions and was struck by the realization that, formalities aside, they reacted to her orders just as a subordinate officer would. My command, she thought.

  “Let’s get to work,” she said, and followed them down into the belly of the broken pod.

  Calvin McLaughlin

  3 April 2058, 14:37

  Michael

  He opened his eyes slowly. The stench of body odor permeated the air. When Cal felt along his body, his hands became slick with sweat. His back arched slightly above the sleeper’s bed, and his restraints stretched across his chest.

  Oh God, not this again.

  He reached over and clicked his clock on. 4-3-2058 14:37.

  No, no, no, not again.

  Cal released his harness and tore the straps loose, then flung his sleeper berth open. His legs shot forth as he aimed for the deck plating, but he ended up slamming back first into the opposing sleepers.

  Wait, there’s no gravity. It’s different this time.

  Cal made his way to the ESAARC cockpit and took a quick glance out of the windows. He sighed in relief when he saw the black expanse of space, dotted by hundreds of tiny points of light.

  We’re not there yet, maybe it’s not too late. Maybe this time I’m actually awake.

  He snaked his way out of the pod and into the gallery. The lights were about twice as bright as they had been during the journey, though not as bright as when he first boarded. From the forward section of the ship, Cal could just make out a voice. He could not hear the words, but he still knew its owner by the distinctive New England accent: Colonel Dayton. Cal launched down the hall to find the ship’s commander.

  He has to know. I need to warn him.

  As he approached the bridge, he could see the crew arranged just outside the air lock, some holding on to carts, and some floating slowly around like sharks circling in the water. There were also more crew than he had ever seen active; Cal took a guess and figured that the entire crew was awake, not just the skeleton maintenance crew. Dayton was at the air lock, giving orders to the crew.

  “Hartley, your team needs to do final maintenance and dump the waste fuel. I want triple inspections on all propulsion systems. Ceretti, your team is to distribute standard emergency supplies to all pods,” Dayton barked.

  Cal drifted into position just beyond the clustered crew.

  “Drisko, your team will begin a full inventory of the cargo pods as soon as Ceretti’s team has pulled their supplies from the lower level.”

  Damn it, this is going to take forever.

  Dayton continued, “Gibbins, your nav team is to take control…”

  “We need to help them,” Cal interrupted in a booming voice.

  Silence f
ell for a moment as the entire crew turned to face Cal.

  “Excuse me, Mr. McLaughlin, but this meeting is for the crew only. Please return to your pod until…”

  “No, you’ve got to listen to me. They’re going to crash, we need to help them.”

  A hard scowl scrawled across Dayton’s face. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “I saw it! They’re going to crash if we don’t help them. Please, Colonel. They’re all going to die.” Cal’s voice began to crack as he pled with Michael’s commanding officer.

  “You’re not making any sense. What did you see? Who crashed?”

  Cal became irritated at the colonel’s lack of understanding. He knew that the situation was dire, but no one else seemed to care, even Dayton. “Another ship. I saw it in my nightmares. They crashed on a hill, and there were no survivors. You gave a eulogy and… and..” Cal’s eyes raked across the crowd until the fixed on Hunter, whose eyes widened as he realized Cal had singled him out. “You. You kept me from helping them. And then you had your little Honor Guard give them a final salute. We could have helped them, Hunter. You stopped me.”

  Dayton’s scowl relaxed, and his look changed to one of pity. “You’re not well, Mr. McLaughlin. Please return to your pod so that Doctor Taylor can look after you.”

  “Damn it, Colonel, no! Please, get someone on the radio. Warn them. Warn the other ships to be careful. Please, they have to know. We’re the only ones that can save them.”

  “I don’t have time for this,” Dayton muttered and disappeared around the corner.

  Cal swept his eyes across the crowd again. “Damn it, someone needs to help them. Hunter, you can make it right. Please… Cameron, you use the radio, right? Just… just call out to the other ships and make sure they know, okay?” The weight of their collective stares weighed on his chest, and he found it difficult to breathe. “What? What are you all staring at? For God’s sake do something or their blood will be on our hands! I can’t take that again. No, not again. Please.”

  Colonel Dayton emerged from inside the airlock just as Hunter started to speak, “Calvin, do what the colonel says. I’m worried for you, man. Doc will fix you up, I promise.”

  “This is your last warning, son,” Dayton said gruffly. “Go back to your pod right this minute.”

  Cal studied the expression of every person whose stare fell on him. Some were confused, others seemed to show annoyance. Hunter, Drisko, and Hartley all looked at him with concern. Then Cal’s eyes met Lieutenant Josephson. Her impish grin and gleaming eyes gave it all away; she was enjoying watching Cal suffer. Something about her delight struck deep into Cal’s soul, and he froze in a moment of fear.

  No. No, it can’t be. She’s making them wait. This is all her fault!

  “What are you looking at, Josephson?” Cal asked with a sneer.

  She made no response other than to fold her arms and grin wider.

  Cal turned back to Dayton. “Colonel, are you just going to let her sit back and manipulate you like that?”

  “Enough,” Dayton barked.

  “You’re letting them all die,” Cal screamed at the top of his lungs.

  Cal felt his arm twist to the side followed by a momentary sharp pain a second later. He craned his neck to see a syringe plunged into a vein. Dr. Taylor pressed the plunger, and its contents flowed into Cal as he looked in her eyes and asked one last word.

  “Why?”

  His vision blurred quickly, and he blacked out.

  1st Lt Darius Owens

  3 April 2058, 15:03

  Gabriel

  Colonel Eriksen’s beard curled into what was probably a smile, or at least as close as the man ever got to one. “That’s the last of the duty assignments for arrival, ladies and gentlemen. We’re just about home.”

  Darius sighed in relief. He looked around and saw the same relief wash over the nearly full crew compliment of Gabriel. Captain Quinn gave Darius a smile and a curt nod. Darius got the impression that the “nearly full” part was weighing on Quinn more than most.

  Lieutenant Reid is still in stasis. They were clearly friends, not just crewmates. Darius felt a measure of sorrow for Quinn. I hope he understands that Reid knew the risks, just like Dr. Kimura said.

  “One more thing before we start,” Eriksen continued. The crew quickly settled down and listened. “I understand that these past forty or so years have been hard on the skeleton crew more than most of you, but my appreciation for the fine job that has been performed by the crew thus far goes out to all of you. Each of you performed your duties admirably from launch, and I have every expectation that you do the same as we bring this ship safely to our new home. There will still be a world of work to do when we arrive, in a very literal sense. Just know that when the time is right, you will all be honored and given extra leave.”

  Whoops rose from the crowd, and Eriksen laughed for the first time that Darius could remember.

  “Now let’s bring our angel home. To your assignments, please.”

  The air was charged with enthusiasm as the crew dispersed to their assigned stations. Darius made his way to his familiar post on the bridge with renewed vigor. As he had done so many times over the many maintenance cycles, he strapped in, carefully settled his headset, and turned on his terminal to check the communications box for ship to ship transmissions.

  Another skill that Darius had gained over those cycles was the ability to differentiate between background noise and inter-ship communication by using file size as a reference point. He immediately deleted all the miniscule files that would contain only ticks and statics, and then opened the first of the remaining files.

  An intra-ship communication played through his earpiece, and the speaker was a man whose voice he had not heard before.

  “This is Sergeant Overton of the sleeper ship Raphael. We have arrived two months ahead of your projected landing, so by the time you receive this message, we will be at work on the planet building the beginnings of the new colony. We would like to note that, in keeping with the name of our new planet, the crew has decided to name the inner moon “Arion” and the outer moon “Persephone”. We are currently heading for our selected landing site and this radio beacon will be there and broadcasting in case you do not hear this full message. Set your radio beacon trackers and follow the signal in. Should there be a malfunction of the beacon, please land at our pre-selected site: 36.1 degrees north latitude, 126.0 degrees east longitude. On behalf of the crew of Raphael, we look forward to seeing you, and welcome home.”

  Darius scribbled the coordinates on a virtual notepad on his terminal screen, and then opened the next communication file. A different voice spoke this time, and the urgency in his voice and the thunderous background noise filled Darius with dread immediately.

  “[static]…Major Nathan Emberley of Raphael. We have suffered… [static] …in our propulsion section. We can’t land without… [garbled] …going critical. We are maneuvering to emergency drop… [inaudible] …pods will try for the landing site if possible, but… [static] …if we have to. We will need… [screech] …beacons. I repeat, this is… [static] …reactor is going critical. We are launching…”

  The final ten seconds of the file contained heavy static, then the transmission cut off abruptly.

  Darius’s heart sank and his fingers went numb. He stared at the coordinates that sat on the screen in front of them, but the numbers lost all meaning as his mind tried to cope with what he had just heard.

  Oh God no…

  Darius scrolled through the available files and found more broadcasts that were recorded after the distress call. He opened one up, but it was a repeat of Sergeant Overton’s beacon recording. One after another, Darius opened the files in hopes that one contained another transmission or more information. His stomach knotted tighter with each repeat of the beacon recording. He finished with the files in the inbox, but there were no other transmissions, only the distress call and several repeats of the beacon.

&nbs
p; His hands trembled as he looked around the bridge to see who else was present. Quinn sat at an engineering station, and he could make out Lieutenant Schneider at nav. Colonel Eriksen slowly made his way to the command chair as he chatted quietly with Dr. Kimura. Darius frowned. He knew that the colonel needed to be made aware of the distress call, but he could not divulge the information in front of Kimura, whose oldest daughter was onboard the stricken ship.

  Darius pretended to work, glancing back every minute or so to see if the doctor had left the bridge. He was given no such luck; Dr. Kimura remained at Eriksen’s side the whole time. The seconds ticked away and the dire knowledge burned within Darius. He tried to occupy himself and bide his time further, but he could not suppress the need to tell the colonel. He moved up to the command platform and waited for an acknowledgement from his CO.

  Eriksen looked at Darius with a piercing gaze. “Can I help you, Mr. Owens?”

  “Sir, can I speak with you alone for a moment?”

  Eriksen nodded at Darius, and then Dr. Kimura. The doctor bowed slightly and floated gracefully off. As he passed Darius, Dr. Kimura gave him a curious look. Darius swallowed and tried to suppress any visual cues of his discomfort.

  “Sir,” Darius spoke in a low tone after Kimura disappeared from the bridge. “We received the expected site beacon message from Raphael, but there was another message as well. Sir… Raphael broadcast an emergency message about their reactor going critical.”

  “What?” Eriksen rasped under his breath.

  “I think it’s legit, Colonel. The message had a lot of static and broken sections, but it was clear enough that their reactor had a problem severe enough to warrant an emergency drop.”

  “You’re talking about a worst case scenario, Lieutenant. Have you received any beacon responses from the pods?”

  “Negative, sir. I don’t know if that means anything yet. The radios on the pods are short range; we probably won’t be able to pick them up until we’re closer to Demeter.”