Project U.L.F.

by Stuart Clark

  Alan pulled to a stop outside bay 12 and watched as the huge metal door lifted in front of him, slowly revealing the hull of the Santa Maria. He had figured out what class of ship it was before he saw it in its entirety and he drove into the bay as soon as the door had opened far enough to let the buggy pass.

  Alan got out and looked around for Geoff Buchannon. He spotted him by one of the huge legs of the craft, the red headset denoting his status as bay supervisor, singling him out from the numerous others who swarmed around the great bulk at the bay’s center.

  Geoff was a young man, at least, young as bay supervisors went. At twenty-eight years old he was already forging himself a great career in the moon-base engineering division. He was in conversation with two of his engineers when Alan interrupted, “Geoff, may I have a word with you, please.”

  “Sure, Alan, what is it?”

  Alan looked at the other two men before looking back at Geoff. “In private, please.”

  “Give me a minute, will you?” Geoff asked. Alan nodded.

  Geoff finished giving his instructions to the two engineers before sending them away to their task. He turned to Alan, “Now, what can I do for you?”

  “Well, I was hoping to say a quick hello and goodbye to an old friend but now I’m even more puzzled. Why is Wyatt going away in the Santa Maria when Voyager III is sitting in bay thirty-seven, ready to go and not chartered? We both know that the Voyager is a better ship.”

  Geoff grinned, a wry smile, “Who are we to reason why? As I understand it, this is only a routine mission anyway. There’s no need to send out the Voyager. Why spend more than necessary? You know how tight budgets are around here.”

  “But Wyatt would have asked for the Voyager if he’d known it was available, and he would have got it—sod the expense! Who’s authorizing this?”

  “Robert Eller. He said I was to report to him personally regarding all aspects of this project.”

  The name added more fuel to the fire of Alan’s suspicion. Robert Eller, Mannheim’s nodding henchman here on the moon-base. “Is Wyatt around? I’d like to speak to him.”

  “Sorry, Alan, he was put down earlier this morning. I saw a couple more of his crew come in since then but I think they’re all loaded aboard.”

  “Okay, thanks, Geoff. Thanks a lot. I appreciate your time.” Alan’s voice trailed off.

  “Is something wrong, Alan?”

  “No, no…No, nothing at all.”

  Alan turned and retraced his steps back to the buggy, Geoff watched him with a frown. The buggy lurched away with a screech, leaving two black snaking lines on the floor of the bay in its wake, passed under the bay door and sped away out of sight.

  On his way back Alan began to wish he had never taken the trip to bay 12. His train of thought was following tracks that constantly brought him to answers he didn’t like. Firstly, if Wyatt had known that Voyager III was available he would have insisted upon having it for his expedition. So, if he did not have the Voyager, this could only mean that he was unaware of its availability, which meant that someone was keeping that information from him. Secondly, the cost of sending the Voyager over the Santa Maria would be negligible so whoever was keeping that information from Wyatt was up to something. That someone was Robert Eller or perhaps, ultimately, Mannheim.

  Thirdly, the Santa Maria was launching from bay 12, one of the furthest bays from the main engineering concourse. This would mean that hardly anyone, apart from the team associated with bay 12, would be likely to go there. Therefore no one would see the Santa Maria being prepared for an expedition while Voyager III stood unused in another bay.

  And finally, bay 12 was under the supervision of Geoff. Recently promoted and eager to please, he would gladly follow orders without question. Perhaps Geoff was a party to the deception that Alan suspected, a nice payoff for a job well done. Perhaps he had always been in league with some of the more unsavory characters assembled at the moon-base and this was the explanation for his rapid rise through the engineering ranks.

  Alarm bells were ringing in Alan’s head.

  * * * * *

  Five minutes later Alan was back in his office. His computer still displayed Wyatt’s flight details. He touched the screen for more information. Destination: Ionen Prime. That checked out. The computer had told him this when he’d been looking to assign Kate to a mission. Why was this right when so many other things appeared to be wrong? Apart from a bad feeling, Alan had nothing to go on. There was only one more thing to check out: Destination Coordinates.

  Alan touched the screen again. He did not know the exact coordinates of Ionen Prime but he had a rough idea. The cursor on the computer ran across the screen leaving a trail of letters behind it that read “Flight co-ordinates for the Santa Maria are:” and then the cursor stopped and just sat there flashing as if the computer was reluctant to reveal this particular information. The screen wiped and the cursor appeared in the top left hand corner of the screen, winking dutifully next to two words: Access Denied.

  Alan frowned. He ran through the procedure again, thinking he had made an error in his request but again the computer threw the same message back at him. Access Denied.

  But this is crazy! Ionen Prime’s coordinates were not classified information. Any pilot could probably reel them off to you off the top of his or her head.

  Unless…unless Ionen Prime was a cover story. If Wyatt’s flight coordinates were classified then Wyatt could not possibly be going to Ionen Prime, and if he was not going there then where the hell was he going?

  Alan’s immediate thought was for Wyatt, and then he remembered Kate. “Oh, God!” he said.

  * * * * *

  “Can you hack into the mainframe?”

  Lloyd looked up from his monitor at the intrusion, his spectacles reflecting the screen to give him two square green eyeballs in his lenses.

  “Is a comet a huge lump of ice and stone that cycles periodically?”

  “What?” Alan stepped further into Lloyd’s office. Lloyd was a genius but sometimes too cryptic for his own good.

  “Don’t matter. Of course I can. It may take a little time but yeah, I can do it. Why, what’s up?”

  “I don’t know and I’m not sure I really want to know but I don’t have much time. I need to know the flight coordinates of the Santa Maria—Wyatt’s ship.”

  “But you should have access to that information from your computer.”

  “I know, I should, but I don’t and that’s what bothers me. Something’s wrong, Lloyd. I know it, but I don’t have proof. That’s why I need your help.”

  “Could this cost me my job?” Lloyd asked suspiciously.

  Alan shrugged. “If we uncover something I fear it will involve some senior people.”

  Lloyd thought about it for a moment, then smiled. “I’ve never been one to turn down a challenge.”

  Lloyd immediately began a series of procedures, his hands caressing both the screen and the keyboard, sometimes so fast that Alan could barely read the messages that the screen was displaying before they were whisked away again.

  Lloyd loved computers; they had been his whole life since high school. This was his niche. He’d learned practically every computer language there was to learn and for his graduate project, he had actually developed another. For his PhD thesis he had written a revolutionary program that would, if a computer with enough memory could run it and the particle assemblers could be obtained, teleport solid inanimate objects composed of one material. The first, tiny step towards teleportation, a concept that had festered in man’s mind for centuries, had been taken.

  Unsurprisingly, Lloyd had been headhunted after he had been awarded his PhD. He’d had jobs in numerous IT departments until eventually he’d found himself on the moon-base developing software for all sorts of things, as far-flung as fully automated docking systems to security systems. It was the latter which qualified him as a hacker. If there was a back door into the system, then Lloyd would know all the cheats to f
ind it.

  “I’ll just check to see if I can’t get the coordinates from here. Not that I doubt you, Alan, but you may have a problem with your access.”

  “Sure, sure…whatever.”

  Alan watched as Lloyd ran through the same procedure that he had done earlier—and was rewarded with the same message. Access denied.

  Again Alan watched as Lloyd typed furiously at his keyboard. He was frustrated now. Frustrated because he did not have a single shred of evidence to prove that Wyatt’s mission was anything other than routine, and frustrated because here in this room he was impotent, just watching as Lloyd went about the task at hand.

  He got up from his chair and began to pace the room, head bowed, watching his feet. The minutes ticked by. Ten. Twenty. The room was silent save for Alan’s footfalls and the tapping of the keyboard.

  “We got it, we’re in.”

  Alan rushed to Lloyd’s side, retaking his seat, eyes frantically scanning the screen for the information he so desperately wanted. There!—the Santa Maria. Lloyd had spotted the ship’s name, too and was already typing in the request that would give him the ship’s coordinates. The cursor blinked twice and Alan feared for a moment that this effort would also prove worthless, but then the screen displayed three numbers. Three huge numbers.

  “Where in hell is that?” Lloyd whispered.

  Alan looked at the figures and knew one thing instantly. “Whatever that location is, it’s beyond the boundaries of charted space, and that means one thing for certain—it’s not Ionen Prime.”

  Alan took out a pen-like implement from his breast pocket and ran it across the screen. “Find out everything you can about that location, and I mean everything. I’ll be back soon.”

  “I’m on it, man,” said Lloyd.

  * * * * *

  Robert Eller was just tidying up his desk when the voice of the base computer filled his office. “Alan Chambers, head of engineering, is waiting outside.”

  “Come in,” Robert said.

  He heard the hiss as the door opened and footfalls as Alan approached his desk. He didn’t even look up. “What can I do for you, Alan?” There was no answer. Only when Alan was almost on top of him did Robert look up, and by then it was too late. Alan’s huge hand grabbed Robert’s tie and yanked him out of his chair and half way across the desk.

  “What the fuck is going on, Robert?”

  “Wha…what are you talking about?” Robert blurted. He wheezed for breath and his hands fought desperately to loosen Alan’s viselike grip.

  “Don’t bullshit me, Robert. Where is the Santa Maria going? Geoff told me that you’re the guy in charge up here.”

  “Can’t you fucking read?” Robert was getting angry in his desperation, “Ionen Prime, just access the mainframe. It’ll tell you.”

  “I did, but didn’t your mother ever tell you not to believe all you read? Ionen Prime, huh?”

  “Yeah, that’s right.”

  Alan threw Robert back into his seat so hard that it floated back a few feet on its anti-grav field.

  “If it’s going to Ionen Prime then what the hell are these?” Alan took the pen-like implement out of his pocket again, depressed a button on its side and grabbed a piece of paper off Robert’s desk. He ran the pen across the paper and the numbers that Lloyd had called up on his computer screen were reproduced in a neat line. Robert looked at the numbers and frowned.

  “The Santa Maria’s destination coordinates,” Alan qualified. “Since when was Ionen Prime beyond charted space?”

  “How did you get those figures? The coordinates for Wyatt’s mission were…” Robert stopped, realizing he was incriminating himself.

  “Confidential,” Alan finished for him. “You know something.” Alan’s face hardened. “Don’t screw around with me, Robert. Where is the Santa Maria going?”

  Robert straightened his tie. “I…I don’t know the details. I was just told to brief Wyatt when he was here and not let him out of my sight.”

  Alan lunged for Robert again but missed. He stood threateningly over Robert’s desk. “Just tell me where Wyatt’s being sent.”

  “The ship is destined for a location beyond Centari Red 603. I don’t know where that…” he pointed to the coordinates, “…is exactly.” Robert looked at his watch, “But you won’t be able to stop the launch now. There’s not enough time.”

  Alan looked at his watch. There was only an hour and a quarter before Wyatt’s scheduled launch. He glared at Robert before turning and striding out of his office. Robert walked to the door and shouted down the corridor after him. “You can’t stop it, Alan. It’s too late.” But Alan was already out of sight.

  * * * * *

  “What do you know?” Alan asked between breaths as he re-took his seat next to Lloyd.

  “Well, those coordinates we looked up are…”

  “Beyond the Centari sector,” Alan finished, “Yes, yes. I know. Robert told me as much. Did you find anything else?”

  “Yeah. The CSETI have numerous classified documents on that location, of which I was able to access a few. It seems they sent out a search-and-rescue craft to pick up the crew of a stranded mining ship.”

  “And?”

  Lloyd sighed. “The CSETI won’t touch the place anymore.” He stopped and looked Alan square in the face. “No one came back, Alan. No one at all.”

  Alan said nothing, just rose from his chair.

  “There’s more you should hear. I checked out all the details of the Santa Maria for you as well. She’s provisioned and powered for a routine flight to Ionen Prime, just as the computer suggests it should be. So the crew won’t suspect anything. The thing is, Ionen Prime is well within charted space and the place they’re destined for, as you quite rightly guessed, is not. Even if Wyatt and his crew want to come back, they can’t. They simply don’t have enough power. They’re being dumped, Alan. Dropped on a little piece of hell and left there.”

  “It’s Mannheim,” Alan whispered. “Mannheim’s behind all of this.” He turned and walked to the door.

  “Where are you going?” Lloyd asked.

  Alan turned to look back at him, his face sad. “I have to stop that launch,” he said, “or at least I have to try.” He turned away and disappeared out of the door.

  * * * * *

  Alan ran down the corridor, his heart pounding, speeding the flow of adrenaline around his body. His mind was racing. He realized he couldn’t stop the launch sequence now, it was too advanced, so he was frantically searching for options. If he couldn’t stop the launch then how else could he help his friend and Kate? Both his head and his chest felt like they were going to explode.

  Think Alan, think. Think it out. Then the realization dawned on him. If neither the mining crew or the CSETI team had returned, then that meant there were two ships left somewhere on the planet surface. Both of which would have enough power for the return voyage. He might not be able to stop the launch but he might be able to provide them with a means of getting home. He ran into the nearest speed lift. “Engineering maintenance,” he said.

  “Complying,” came the reply.

  * * * * *

  “Hey, Alan,” one of the engineers said cheerily as Alan strode purposefully into the maintenance area.

  “Do you have any functional portable beacon receivers in here?” Alan asked without returning the greeting.

  “We have one that’s to be fitted into the system deck of the Azimuth when she arrives, that’s just been given the once-over and checks out okay.”

  “Where is it?”

  “Over there,” the young man said, pointing, “Just behind Charlie’s work station.”

  Alan walked over to the other side of the room and picked up the beacon receiver. It was a small black box with a carrying handle. “Thanks,” he said, turning and walking out of the room.

  “Hey! You can’t take that, that’s been allocated to a craft. Alan! Come back! Hey!”

  But Alan was already long gone.


  * * * * *

  When Alan arrived at the main engineering concourse, the last remaining transport buggy was just pulling off the grid. He chased after it, one hand waving frantically. “Hey! Wait! I need that transport!”

  The driver of the vehicle heard his cries and pulled the buggy to a halt, looking questioningly at Alan as he came up beside him.

  “I need this vehicle,” Alan said between gasps, “And I need it now. It’s an emergency and I don’t have much time.”

  “I’ll run you if you like,” said the driver, “Where are you going?”

  Alan thought about it for a second. “Just give me the buggy.”

  The driver did as he was told and Alan jumped in, before speeding off down the access tunnel.

  * * * * *

  Alan drove the buggy at full speed, willing the tiny vehicle to move faster. Even so, it seemed to take forever to reach bay 12.

  When he did arrive, he immediately went to the bay door system panel. The status display informed him that the launch locks were in place. The Santa Maria was in the last half hour of launch countdown. He would have to manually override the door locks.

  He pulled a bunch of cards from the pocket of his boiler suit and inserted one into a slit at the bottom of the system panel, simultaneously placing his hand on the ID plate. The display read: Ident accepted—Manual override sequence initiated. Type in authorization code. Alan furiously punched in the memorized numbers on the keypad next to the panel. When he finished the display read: Authorization code valid—Launch locks withdrawing. Override will be reversed ten minutes before scheduled launch. There was a deep rumble as the huge metal shafts slowly pulled out from their runners and then the bay door began to rise.

  Alan ran into the bay and ran around the nearest leg of the Santa Maria, depressing the switch he found there. He turned and watched as the fifth slender limb descended from the underside of the craft as it had done previously for Wyatt. He walked over to it and stepped inside, looking up as it was retracted back into the great ship.