Adrift (The Sirilians Book 1)

by Nicole Krizek

  “First you’d have to find a woman willing to spend that much time with you,” he retorted.

  “Ouch! Good one,” Reus replied, while his hands manipulated the holographic image.

  “Here,” he announced. “I think this is the best projection we’re going to get.”

  Reus stepped back, and Karo’s stomach sunk. The image showed the projected path of the solar flare; it was going to impact the planet’s surface in fifteen minutes. The only consolation—and it was a tiny one—was that it was going to hit the other side of the planet where there was very little life.

  Both men stared silently at the model for a moment before Karo began inputting commands into Reus’s console. They needed to disseminate this information right away. Everyone at the department needed to know.

  “We need to send this to Commander Counnas right away.”

  “What do you think he’ll do?” Reus asked.

  The question caught Karo off-guard, and he paused a moment to think. What could they do? There was no way to shield an entire population from the radiation of a solar flare.

  They could either move the planet out of its path—which wasn’t an option—or tell the citizens to take shelter, which wouldn’t help them.

  Karo brought his fist down onto the console in anger. He’d devoted his career to decreasing the dangers to his planet, his home, but the first real risk to their people’s survival and he couldn’t do anything but sit by and be an observer. It made him want to vomit.

  If the planet’s magnetosphere had been stronger it would have helped disperse the radiation, but that wasn’t going to help them now. Energetic protons were hurtling their direction. If—when—they hit the planet, they would cause massive biochemical damage to all life within their path.

  He looked again at the projection. The flare was going to make impact with Siril in the eastern hemisphere; an area comprised of ocean and an archipelago of small inhabited islands.

  He and Reus shared a look. There was nothing anyone could do. Even if they sent their fastest ships they couldn’t get there and evacuate everyone in time.

  Still, Karo sent the information to Commander Counnas before he and Reus began formulating an emergency plan for the fallout.

  CHAPTER 18

  Karincin and Reus sat quietly in the department’s largest meeting room, staring at the monitor. Everyone was gathered together, and their moods were hard to read. Most were solemn, but determined to help the people who’d been afflicted, although no one knew exactly how much damage had been done. Some were silently thankful that the radiation hadn’t hit their side of the planet.

  Karo didn’t feel jovial, he felt sick. It had been sheer luck that had saved everyone he loved. How was he to have a future with Aevum if he couldn’t protect her? Couldn’t even protect himself?

  Commander Counnas soon entered the room, and all activity stopped. The commander was one of the most logical, level-headed men Karo knew. He had a reputation for making decisions swiftly, absolutely, without regrets. Today the man looked like they all felt.

  The Commander’s expression was austere. His lips were pressed together in a grim line, and his eyes seemed to scowl at everyone in the room. People quickly took their seats as he initiated a model of the solar system before addressing everyone.

  “We are at fault for the danger our planet succumbed to today.”

  Everyone’s expressions clouded in sadness and guilt.

  “Initial reports from the first responders show that the entire island chain has suffered devastating effects from the intense radiation they were exposed to.

  “Most of the foliage and wildlife were completely burned, and the people didn’t fare much better. The ones that were able to seek shelter, either underground or in shielded buildings, will survive. Although there’s no way to determine the lasting side-effects of being exposed to that much radiation, we can expect them to need long-term care.” The commander’s voice grew even more grim. “The people with the most exposure to the radiation have either been reported dead, or are suffering debilitating burns.”

  He began a video from one of the first responders, and the crowd gasped. It was a real-time feed from a camera mounted on the person’s helmet. It looked like he was in the midst of a war zone.

  As the first responder moved forward, other things became clear. Radiation hadn’t just rained down from the sky, it had hit the area like an explosion. Transports were thrown against buildings, upturned and blackened from the blast. The landscape was ash. All of the foliage was gone, the charred remains of trees laid out onto the ground like toothpicks, all pointing in the same direction. Some of the buildings remained, but they were blackened, the windows blown out, and many of the roofs were gone.

  That wasn’t the worst part. All around were bodies—or, more accurately, what remained of bodies. They were still smoldering: the blackened shells of people that used to live in this town.

  Throughout the room Karo could hear people crying, gagging, even some going into fits of anxiety. The images onscreen could easily have happened to their own city, to their own parents, even to Aevum. The thought of her looking like one of those broken shells… it was unthinkable. Thankfully, the commander stopped the video feed, and the rooms monitor went black.

  “Amazingly, there were survivors,” he reported. “Many were able to find the aforementioned shelter. Other departments are handing their care; it is our job to eliminate further risk to our planet.”

  The audience gave murmurs of agreement.

  “In that spirit, I have selected the twelve pilots that will be our first Scouts. I want them to depart Siril within two weeks, and I expect you all to make that happen.”

  Two weeks?! Karo’s mind spun with the logistics of pushing his AI project that far ahead; he’d expected his team to have another few months at least.

  In the background he heard the commander listing names, but his mind was already creating a plan to complete the ships’ AI units.

  “…Karincin Abishek…”

  Karo’s head jolted up, and Reus elbowed him while whispering, “Stand up!”

  Karo rose to his feet and looked around at the very few others standing in the large space. Commander Counnas called Reus’s name last.

  “Congratulations. You twelve hold the honorable position of being chosen as your planet’s vanguard, set to protect our world through deep-space independent missions…”

  Karo didn’t hear the rest. A buzzing rang in his head, and he felt Reus’s reassuring palm on his shoulder.

  In that single sentence he’d just been ordered to leave Aevum for decades.

  I was wrong. It can get worse.

  *****

  Commander Counnas ended the meeting and Karo moved quickly through the crowd of people exiting the room. He knew that he wasn’t thinking logically, but suddenly that didn’t matter. He heard Reus calling his name from somewhere, but all he could think about was the woman he’d just been ordered to leave.

  The thought was inconceivable!

  “Sir, may I please have a word?” Karo barely heard himself ask Commander Counnas over the deafening pounding of his heart.

  “Of course Karincin.”

  Karo struggled to find the right words. He knew that being chosen as a Scout was a tremendous honor and huge responsibility, but it was an honor he didn’t want.

  “Sir, thank you for choosing me as a Scout, but I’m afraid I must decline.”

  He felt as if his words rang throughout the room, and everyone who remained turned to look at him with shocked expressions. Karo didn’t care if they thought him crazy, he stood tall and looked Commander Counnas straight in his eyes to convey his sincerity.

  “I think that we should continue this conversation in private,” the commander said, before leading Karo from the room and into his nearby office. It was a modest space, with glass walls that turned opaque when the men entered. The commander sat at his large console and gestured for Karo to take the adjoining ch
air.

  “Karincin, you’ve been working on the Scout project for two years, are one of our foremost AI experts, and have been pushing to be assigned into space since you began working here. What has changed?”

  Everything!

  Karo had been unable to convince the Department of Space that the single-person missions were a mistake because of the mental welfare of the pilots. He wasn’t sure if they were unwilling to reexamine the mission because of the costs involved in sending multiple people, or because they were pushing to launch the Scouts as soon as possible. One thing was for sure: the planet’s recent disaster would only harden their decision.

  “The Scouts will be alone for decades, and I believe that I would not be able to maintain my mental health if I were to spend that long unaccompanied.”

  “You already made a case for the Scout missions to be a multi-crewmember assignment, and it was the department’s decision to decline your suggestion.” The Commander sat back in his chair in a more informal position before continuing.

  “Karincin, I understand your concerns, but I’m afraid that the department would never approve the additional funding to the missions this late in the process, especially after today. We need to get the Scouts out into space as soon as we can. I simply cannot delay the missions to train new people and retrofit all of the ships for additional passengers.”

  “I’m not asking you to.”

  Commander Counnas’s brow furrowed. “Are you declining the assignment because of the woman you were recently paired with?”

  Of course I am! Karo thought. There was no way he could leave Aevum behind. He didn’t want to be away from her—couldn’t be away from her for that long! He also didn’t expect her to wait for him, and the thought of her living her life with another man was unthinkable.

  “I won’t pretend that leaving her isn’t weighing heavily on my decision.”

  The commander nodded. “Is there nothing I can do to make you reconsider?”

  “No, sir. I know there are others who are just as qualified to be Scouts.”

  “Perhaps, but you know the systems’ programming better than anyone else. The overall mission will have a lesser chance of success without you.”

  “I’m sorry for that, but I am formally withdrawing my candidacy for any long-term space missions.”

  Commander Counnas nodded solemnly. “I regretfully accept your refusal of assignment.”

  The disappointment was evident in the commander’s voice, and it weighed heavily on Karo’s mind as he walked out of the office. He hated disappointing the man he admired, but knew that, in the end, he was doing his planet a favor by stepping aside.

  CHAPTER 19

  Rowe and Ambassador Lear were waiting for Karo in the landing bay. They stood side-by-side on the ramp of their disc-shaped ship, but as Karo approached he was struck with confusion.

  Which one is which? The two aliens looked exactly alike, and wore no clothing or adornments that would allow him to tell them apart.

  He really didn’t want to have to ask. Talk about embarrassing!

  “Thank you for waiting,” he said instead.

  “We were not inconvenienced,” one of them replied, and Karo realized that even their voices were the same. He hadn’t noticed it when they’d all been together.

  The two Grays moved in unison, creating a gap between their bodies and extended their arms towards the interior of the ship.

  “Welcome to our shuttle.”

  The ramp’s ceiling was low, forcing Karo to duck to avoid hitting his head as he ascended. He entered a large area that was thankfully tall enough for him to stand upright. A dozen seats were set in a circular shape that ringed the interior wall. The illumination, such as it was, came from blue pulses that ran like a network throughout the entire interior; the walls, floor, and ceiling were all intermittently illuminated. It was mildly entrancing, and unlike anything Karo had ever seen.

  He walked to the nearest wall and ran his hand over the surface. It felt smooth but flexible when he pressed on it.

  “What’s this material? I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “It is what we use in the fabrication of all our bioships.”

  He’d never heard that term before. “A bioship?”

  “Yes. Each ship in our fleet is a living organism that we telepathically pilot.”

  No way. He’d been all over the galaxy and had never encountered technology like this. It was astounding! Karo looked around the interior of the ship with a new perspective, and marveled at what he was seeing.

  The blue illumination was pulsing like a heartbeat through what appeared to be a form of arteries. Or maybe they were some sort of neurons? His mind spun with questions, but before he could ask any of them, the other Gray elaborated.

  “They’re far superior to metal-alloy ships. A bioship can be grown in any configuration, is self-healing, adaptable, and the telepathic link allows for the exchange of information at a much quicker rate.”

  Did that mean it had a mind of its own?

  “Is it conscious?” Karo asked, finally looking away from the nearest wall. The Grays had already taken seats and were waiting for him.

  “Of course not,” one of them answered. “It only has the capacity for the most primal of reflexes, such as the ability to heal.”

  Both of his hosts gestured for him to sit, so he chose the closest chair, which was made of the same organic material as the rest of the ship. He didn’t relish resting his butt on something that was clearly part of another creature, but he sat anyway.

  The seat was too small for his larger frame but he managed to squeeze his hips into it. The moment he stopped moving, he felt the chair yield to his weight and shift to fit his body. It was a strange sensation, but when it stopped he eased back, surprised to find that it was now quite comfortable.

  He opened his mouth to comment, but was stopped short. Both Rowe and Lear sat perfectly still with their eyes closed and hands sunk into the armrests of their seats, as if the chair was made of gelatinous goo and had absorbed them. Karo looked at his own armrests and gently prodded the surface to find that it was spongy, but didn’t conform around his entire hand like the Gray’s seats.

  He counted himself lucky. He really didn’t want to stick his hands into the creature.

  “We’re about to take off,” one of his hosts stated, eyes still closed. “We recommend that you relax. The journey will be completed in six minutes.”

  Karo’s eyebrows rose in surprise. How was that possible? How technologically advanced is this race?

  “We’ll be at your space station, halfway across the galaxy, in a few minutes?”

  “That is correct. Although, in truth, we’re already there. That reality has simply not resolved yet.”

  With that, the hatch closed and Karo felt the sensation of movement. He scanned the interior again and was unnerved that there wasn’t a console or window to be seen. He could feel that they were moving, but without being able to see outside the effect was disorientating.

  “You two are piloting this thing?” he asked nervously.

  “Yes. You needn’t be concerned.”

  Yeah right, Karo thought. He really hoped that their telepathic link was a strong one. His heartbeat quickened, and he was sure that at any moment he’d hear the sound of their shuttle colliding with the walls of the docking bay.

  “Don’t you need to see where you’re going?”

  One of them opened their eyes. “Our physiology allows us to interface with our entire ship. We know everything it knows. Now, prepare for resolution.”

  “Resolution?”

  The word had barely left Karo’s mouth when he felt a sudden acceleration. He grabbed onto his armrests to keep from flying from the chair, but realized that his body was held solidly against its surface, as if invisible restraints crisscrossed him. I like that feature.

  His two companions still sat immobile, and Karo thought it best to not interrupt their concentration if they were
flying the shuttle. Instead, he relaxed into the seat and found himself staring at the pulsing blue illumination. It was hypnotic, and his mind began to wander.

  Right away he latched onto the revelation that eight-thousand years had passed since he’d left Siril. It was a confounding notion. In the scale of the universe, eight millennia was a blink of an eye, but for a society of people—anything could happen. Apparently it had.

  Karo shook his head slightly. His time in stasis had allowed him to hop through time. How had that happened? He knew the regeneration chambers were not meant for that, so had his malfunctioned? If so, how had he and LINK not known?

  The chamber had been keeping him alive, allowing him to continue his Scout mission. He’d been constantly performing maintenance and replicating replacement parts… Karo stilled.

  He’d thought it odd that his chamber was in constant need of new parts; he was replacing the same components every time he woke. That must have been because it was running constantly for hundreds of years each time he slept. That, at least, made more sense.

  As for the rest of the ship, it was a miracle that it’d stayed together as long as it had. Although there wasn’t much in empty space to threaten the ship; it could have continued forever, storing energy from passing suns, and only waking him when he was truly needed.

  Karo thought back to all the space walks he’d been forced to endure. Nearly every time he woke he spent his time performing maintenance and repairs. He’d thought it odd that the ship was breaking down, since it had self-healing systems and had been built extremely durable. Now he knew that it had been breaking down because it hadn’t been made to last thousands of years.

  There was also no telling how much LINK had done to maintain the systems while he’d been in stasis. Karo had outfitted the AI with robotic arms so that he could do exactly that, help him maintain the ship. In this way he could affect things outside of his computer matrix.

  An inkling of suspicion began to weave its way through Karo’s mind; how had LINK not known? Surely he would have been keeping track of the passage of time. His system couldn’t have been powered down while he’d been in stasis—too much work had had to occur to keep the ship running. Had LINK done this to him?