by R. A. Mejia
The white, vine-like tentacles rise off the ground, and the tips of the closest turn toward me as I reach the spot SAI has marked for me. Several lights blink in my helmet as I plant my foot and launch my whole body forward. As I fly through the air above the grasping tentacles, I note that my suit has a blue glow around it and that my energy indicator is dropping. As the open end of the ship fast approaches, I realize that I never thought about how I was going to land. There are some very sharp parts of the hull rushing towards me, and I try to raise my legs, hoping to avoid them. The bottom of my left foot catches on the edge of the exposed flooring for a second and alters my rotation just as I slam into the ship. I hang there for a moment, in midair, dizzy, until the blue glow surrounding my body disappears, and then I drop to the ledge with a clang. The world spins for a moment as my head gets shaken up in my helmet, but SAI’s voice comes on over the comms.
“Are you okay, John?”
It takes a moment for my vision to clear. I sit up and see in my display that I’ve lost some durability in my suit from the rough landing, but I’m still in one piece.
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
I start to chuckle and then laugh at how dumb my idea was and that it actually worked. I knew that using the gravity gun on myself would lower my weight, and thus increase how far and high I could jump, but it was SAI that pointed out that the strength boost feature of suit upgrade could also help. Thankfully, SAI was able to coordinate the activation of each feature once I gave her permission. Otherwise, I don’t think I could have correctly activated each of them on my own, and I’d likely be struggling with those tentacles on the ground instead. The energy readout on my display shows that combination of using both was a big drain, even if it was only for a few seconds. Still, the spare batteries we brought should keep the suit going.
Getting to my feet, I start to search for a way into the ship. There are wires, insulation, exposed framework, and electronics everywhere. I can only imagine how violent the crash was for the ship to be torn apart this way. I grab some metal paneling that is blocking my path and toss it behind me. It clatters to the ground, and then I hear a tapping sound, and the ship vibrates underneath me. Looking over the ledge, I see that the paneling I threw landed on some of the white tentacles and that they are trying to drag the metal underground. Motion in the corner of my eye catches my attention, and I look up to see the tips of several tentacles slapping against the hull of the ship like they’re searching for something. I realize that they must be trying to find out the location of where the panel came from.
Stepping back, I turn and leave the tentacles to their blind search, trying to ignore the tapping sounds on the hull. Pushing aside more debris, I’m finally able to find a hallway that leads deeper into the ship, but it’s blocked off by a piece of metal. I recognize it as the same kind of drop door that I saw during the crash. I tap it with my knuckles, and it feels pretty solid. I consider using my laser cutter to remove the entire door but wonder if it even has the power to slice through the heavy door. Then I remember I don’t have to wonder.
“SAI, can the laser cutter in the suit cut through this door?” I tap the door with my hand to show her what I mean.
“My calculations show that, yes, your laser cutter can cut through the door. But it would take quite some time. If you were planning to do this kind of work, you should have upgraded the laser cutter before we left.”
I roll my eyes. “If I had known that we’d have to do any of this, I would have brought a ladder and some weed killer too. But back to my question: How long would it take me to cut this door out?”
“It will take approximately 2 hours to cut out the high-density decompression door. At that rate, you’d use 108,000 Amps of energy, which is more than you have left.”
I sigh at my first plan getting shot down because of a lack of energy. “Well, I guess I could climb to the top of the ship and find another way in.” Then I consider how many ship systems I’d have to cut through. I’d risk damaging the communications system I came to use.
“May I make a suggestion, John? If you’re seeking to get through that door, you can cut the locking mechanism at the base of the door which holds it in place and then slide the door back up. There is another mechanism that will hold it in place if you are able to raise it high up enough. It’ll still cost you some energy, but it’ll be much less than your original plan.”
“That’s a great suggestion. Thanks”
On my helmet display, SAI highlights the portion of the door I’d have to cut through. I kneel down, look at the proper icon on my helmet display, and activate the laser cutter with a double blink of my eyes. The claw-like tool extends from my left arm, and the lasers start to cut through the metal of the floor. It only takes 10 minutes to cut through the metal latch holding the door down, and after I’m finished, it pops up a little. Getting to my feet, I crouch down and grab the bottom edge. I’m able to lift it up to chest height but no further. Still holding the door in my hands, I glance at icon on my helmet display that has a flexing arm and double blink. The outline of my helmet display turns red, and I hear the whine of many small motors as the strength boost option is activated. The door suddenly feels much lighter, and I’m able to lift it above my head push it into its holding slot above the door. I hear something click, and the heavy door settles. I tentatively let go, but it stays where it is, and I deactivate the strength boost. Looking at the energy readouts, I see that it was a costly endeavor. Even including the extra expenditure associated with using the laser cutter, however, it's still much more effective than using the 108,000 Amps my original play would have called for.
The door now secure, I move deeper into the ship. The external lights on my suit turn on, illuminating up the hallway, and I can see that much of the ship looks heavily damaged. Several areas are covered in black smoke from fires that must have broken out as the ship was bombarded by lasers and missiles. Bodies of deceased crewmen lie scattered around burnt-out compartments.
I have to take it slow because there is a severe tilt to the floor, but SAI is kind enough to overlay green dots that lead me to the communications room. Unfortunately, when I get there, it’s completely inaccessible. The room is filled with framing, and fallen components, and I have to force myself to look away from the sight of a crushed body. SAI redirects me to the bridge, another location where it’s possible to access the communications equipment. After another hour of moving things and carefully maneuvering down cluttered hallways, I reach the bridge. I have to open another stuck hatchway, but it doesn’t require any laser cutting, just a few moments using the strength booster.
The door opens with a hiss, and I enter the bridge. It’s completely dark, and I realize that this part of the ship must be completely underground. With the lights on the suit and an overlay of the major objects from the ship schematics, I can see that room is much bigger than I thought it would be. It’s about 300 square meters, spread out in a rectangular room that tapers off at the far end. There are panels and bolted chairs all along the left and right sides of the room. Sitting dead center in the room, turned away from me, is the largest chair.
It is highlighted by SAI in green, and the artificial intelligence says, “There. That is the captain’s chair. You can access all of the ship’s systems from there.”
I make my way to the chair, turn it around, and am startled to see that it’s still occupied. There, still strapped in the seat, is the slightly-bloated body of an older man in a ship’s uniform with four pips pinned to the collar. The man has white hair peeking out from under his cap.
“It’s Captain Reynolds,” SAI says over the comms in my helmet. “His last order to the crew was for them to evacuate while he held off the pirates. His last order to me was to destroy as many pirates as I could before we crashed. The Captain was very brave and never even considered abandoning the ship.”
I can admire the man’s dedication to his ship and crew. I don’t know if I could have stayed, knowing that I’
d never see my wife or daughter again. “He must have been a great man. He kept the ship together long enough for most of the crew to escape.”
Unstrapping the captain from the chair is a squishy affair, but not as bad as I thought it would be. I’m actually surprised the captain’s body hasn’t decomposed more. When I ask SAI about it, she tells me the nitrogen atmosphere that leaked into the ship likely inhibited decomposition. While I’m working to remove the body from the chair, I notice a data pad in the captain’s pocket. I’m not the only one to notice. A green outline appears on the data pad in my helmet display.
“John, can you grab that for me? I can access it remotely through your suit if you’re holding it.”
I snag the object from the Captain’s suit and see an icon pop up on my display indicating a data download. It’s over in a moment, and I drop the data pad and continue to move the Captain out of his seat. I slide him on the floor with a squelching sound, and he starts to slide down the slanted floor towards the front of the ship, where, according to the overlaid schematics, helm control and the large view screen are located.
I take a deep breath and seat myself in the captain’s chair. Moving that body wasn’t easy; it had weighed a lot more than I thought it would. The armrests have multiple buttons, knobs, and small display screens that are currently black and inactive.
“Nothing is working, SAI.”
“I can’t connect to any of the bridge systems. I know that this section has independent battery systems, but something must be stopping the flow of power. You’ll have to search for the issue. Here, I’ll guide you to a repair hatch.”
I follow the green dots SAI overlays onto the floor through my helmet display to a hatch in the floor. It’s a tight fit in the suit, but I inch through the crawlspace till I reach the power relay lines. I have no idea what is what, but SAI walks me through how to check the systems and how to tell if each line is working. SAI is able to trace the problem to a failed series switch that I have to cut out and replace with materials from another section of the damaged ship. All told, it takes me an hour to make the repairs with SAI’s direction, but when I’m finished, I crawl my way out from under the floor and back to the bridge where I find that all the lights have turned on.
With the ship’s lights back on, I can see the damage to the bridge more clearly. Wiring hangs down from the ceiling, there are cracks along most surfaces, and several stations have been torn free and have slid down toward the view screen at the front of the ship. But, for a crash site, it still looks remarkably intact. When I ask SAI about it, she explains that, like engineering, this section of the ship is reinforced.
Sitting back in the captain’s chair, I start to tap the buttons and turn the knobs on the arm console to try and get to the communications system. I don’t know what I’m doing, and horns start to blare and lights start to flash on the ceiling. The ship starts to shake and shift, and my hands go to cover my ears, but I hit the helmet instead.
“John! Put your hand back on the console!”
I do as I’m told, and the sounds and flashing lights cut off, but the ship continues to shake and groan.
“What’s that sound, SAI? Are we under attack?”
“Keep your hand on the Captain’s console, and I can access the ship’s systems. Give me a moment to connect to the sensors.” There’s a pause, and I see the display on the armrest rapidly flash through multiple menus, and lines of code roll across the screen. “There we go. I had to bypass a few systems, but I’m connected to the forward sensors again. I found what’s making the ship shake, but I don’t know if you’ll want to know what’s causing it.”
As the grinding and rocking slowly stop, I respond, “Of course I want to know.”
The cracked view screen at the front of the ship turns on, and an image flickers for a moment before stabilizing. I’m not really sure what I’m looking at. It looks like a bunch of thick white lines and triangles set in circular patterns. Then one of the white lines moves, and I see one of the circular patterns pulse, and I realize I’m looking at a bunch of mouths. It clicks that the white lines are the tentacles outside the ship. The loud horns reactivate for a moment, sending the mouths and tentacles into a frenzy. The tentacles ungulate, and the mouths open and close rapidly as if they’re trying to chew on something. The ship starts to shake again, but the klaxon cut out and the ship settles again after a few minutes--although, a few of the tentacles on the view screen are still moving like they’re looking for the source of the disturbance.
Hardly daring to whisper, I ask, “What was that, SAI?”
“Sorry, but I wanted to show you how the sound of the ship’s alarm system set them off. Now that I have access to my forward sensors, I can show you what your graboid really is.” The live image on the screen is replaced with an image of the forward section of the ship. The image zooms in, and I can see the white tentacles that cover the hull. “What you thought was one creature is actually many smaller creatures, each with three long tentacles.” The picture on the screen isolates one of them and highlights its three long tentacles. The image then changes to an artificially-created ground-level view of a hole in the ground. “I hypothesize that these are swarm creatures. They create or use existing holes in the ground to lure in prey.” On the screen, a tripod comes and sniffs at the hole. “Then, when one of the tentacles is disturbed, either by vibration or sound, it lashes out and wraps around the prey. One of these underground creatures is not enough to take down their prey, so it alerts the others around it.” The poor, animated tripod is soon covered in tentacles and is being pulled underground. “Then, once they have it underground, the creatures swarm and devour their prey.” Thankfully, the images on the screen don’t show that part and instead turn blank.
“Additionally, John, my expanded sensors have mapped a vast underground tunnel system that runs under a large part of this continent. There are likely many other underground life forms too.”
I am unsure of what to say about the disturbing revelation that the entire time I was walking on the surface of this planet there were these wiggling, meat-eating creatures just waiting for me to fall in a hole. I shiver at the thought but tell SAI, “Well, at least we’ve learned something about them. But could we get back to the part where we access the communications array, please?”
“Oh, of course, John. Give me a moment.” The display on the arm rest flashes through more menus and code. “That’s odd. I can access the communications array, but I cannot establish a long-range connection. The intra-system communications seem to be working fine, but there is no signal to communicate between galaxies. Give me a moment to diagnose the problem.”
It’s an odd sensation to feel so useless. SAI runs through the system checks while I sit there in the captain’s chair, my only purpose being the link SAI is using to access the ship. I spend the next few minutes looking around the damaged bridge, wondering what it was like for the captain to sit in this chair as the ship crashed. Was he scared? Or was he glad that he’d at least gotten his crew to safety? Did he have regrets or was he content knowing he lived the life he’d always wanted?
“Well, that’s disturbing.”
SAI’s voice brings me out of my thoughts, and I ask, “What’s disturbing?”
“I’ve checked the system a dozen times, but it seems like we’re missing the long-range communications crystal. It’s a unique object that each ship has that resonates at a specific subspace frequency. It’s what allows for communication between galaxies. Without it, we’ll never be able to get a message back to the Federation. The best I can do is send out an S.O.S. and hope that someone eventually picks up the signal. According to the navigational system, we’re in an uninhabited system, though. So, we may have to wait a while for our signal to reach someone.”
“How long will we have to wait?”
“A long time. Maybe years if our signal has to travel outside the immediate system. We’re in a low-priority resource system. The initial survey logs for the p
lanets here show no resources worth sending a harvesting or mining ship to, and no planet is worth colonizing or terraforming. If we get lucky, a ship might pick up our signal if it passes through on a faster than light route.”
My mind spins at the thought of possibly spending years here away from my family. I’m so caught up in my thoughts that I don’t see the flashing red light on the arm rest right away. But when I do, I tap it, and a voice come on over the ship’s speakers.
“Hello? Can anyone hear me? I’ve picked up your S.O.S. I’m tracing it now. Please respond if you can.”
Without thinking, I press the green button next to it and start talking. “Hello. Hello, can you hear me?”
“Yes. I can. Is this the sender of the S.O.S?”
“Sort of. I mean, yes. I’m so glad you’re out there. Our ship crashed, and I’ve been stranded here since.” Happy thoughts about being rescued by a Federation ship float through my mind. I might be able to see my family sooner than I thought. Then the reality of the situation settles in. Didn’t SAI just tell me how unlikely it was that anyone would even get our signal soon?
“Not to look a gift horse in the mouth, but how did you get our signal? I was told it wouldn’t reach outside the system.”