Sunspots

by Gary Martin

  I'm not usually one to dwell on things like age, but I'm beginning to feel like life might actually be passing me by. I'm nearly forty, I'm not married and don't have any children. That was a conscious decision, I really didn't want kids. Right up until recently, it seemed like a terrible idea, settling down and having a family. All the normal things all the normal people do. I've never felt grown up enough for it.

  It's beginning to occur to me that maybe no one's grown up enough for it. The conversations about having children always ended the same way, with me not backing down. And the way I left everything back home before I got the shuttle here - oh dear. I may have fucked everything. And now I'm basically hiding for three months.

  I lie down on the bed and all I can see is Ez's face. The way she looked the last time I saw her. And now I've completely abandoned her.

  I honestly start thinking that there's no point trying to go to sleep as my mind won't shut up, but I'm asleep in minutes.

  I get woken up suddenly by a high-pitched squeal, followed by a low rumbling noise. It goes on for a time and then stops. After a few minutes of listening to silence, I'm not really sure if I've heard anything at all. I look at the alarm clock in my half-asleep daze and it's something past eleven in the morning. My alarm is set for three, so I close my eyes and go back to sleep. What only seems like seconds later, I hear the beeping of the alarm, and bang my hand on the snooze button. I need to snooze it at least four times before allowing it to rip me out of sleep fully.

  I get out of the covers and sit on the edge of the bed, staring at the wall for a few minutes. I then stand up and take a piss, flush the toilet, grab a towel then leave my quarters and head for the washroom. I stop halfway down the corridor and realise everything seems a little too quiet. The dull hum of the engine room seems to have stopped. Without thinking, I knock on Kerry's door, to see if she knows anything about this.

  She opens her door looking more tired than I do.

  “What do you want?” she says, then looks down then up again and smiles. “Are you propositioning me?”

  I look down and realise I'm still only in my pants.

  “Oh fuck,” I say and quickly wrap the towel around me. Flustered, I ask if she has any idea why the engines have stopped.

  “It's your job to know that shit, isn't it?” she replies bluntly.

  “I guess so, but I've only just woken up.”

  “So have I, you daft twat. Why would I know more about it than you?” she says and rolls her eyes.

  “Fair point, I'll get changed and ask Tom. Maybe a bit later, after I’ve showered.”

  “Piss off and let me sleep then,” she says and slams the door in my face.

  I continue to the washroom, open the hatch, walk past the two curtained-off baths and to the farthest shower cubicle. I turn the tap on and move back as fast as I can so I don't get hit by the freezing water. I then stretch my arm around the flow and turn the dial. Hopefully I can get it somewhere between hot and cold, and not the usual hot then cold then hot then swearing that usually happens with these things. I put my hand in, and I seem to have hit the sweet spot. I stand in the shower and close my eyes. Ez pops into my head again, and I wash myself and try and think of anything else unsuccessfully. I dry off and walk back to my quarters, brush my teeth and get into my uniform. I should probably go and see Tom to find out what's going on, and see if it has anything to do with the noise I possibly heard in my sleep this morning.

  I leave my quarters and climb the ladder to the bridge, and bang my head on the hatch.

  “Fuck it,” I shout. The hatch is never closed. I turn the wheel and press the two switches and it opens onto the bridge. I pull the top section of ladder down so I can climb up and then walk to the shift manager’s office. You can still see the indentation of the word Captain underneath the cheap sticker that says Shift Manager’s office. I've always wanted to change it back and see if anyone noticed. I knock three times and go in.

  I look at the desk and Tom's not there. I guess if there are engine troubles, he's probably going to be with Sam in the engine room helping her to sort it out. I walk back out onto the bridge to see if Will or Ian have any idea what's happening, but their seats are empty as well. Confused, I walk to the pilot’s console, and look to see if there's anything I can figure out by looking at the screens. It may as well be in Japanese, I have no fucking idea what any of it means. I really should have paid some attention when Kerry showed me some of the basics, as I'm supposed to be able to cover the position if something were to happen.

  Will and Ian must be with Tom and Sam in the engine room. If they're all down there, something serious must have happened. I stare out of the view ports for a second. Then it hits me. For fuck’s sake, they're in the canteen having their last break before we take over.

  My shift doesn't tend to take breaks together, but Tom’s shift has been known to. I feel pretty stupid, but it’s probably best to think the worst out here. I get on the ladder and climb down to the habitation deck, and notice the hatch between habitation and the rec deck is closed too. I'm surprised I didn't notice that when I went from here up to the bridge. Tired, I guess. I open the hatch and climb down.

  “You bunch of bastards,” I shout over my shoulder as I clear the hatch. I jump three rungs from the bottom and turn around. The rec deck is completely empty.

  A cold chill goes down my spine; I guess they are all in the engine room after all. A question then pops into to my mind now I'm down here: should I have breakfast? Or check the engine room and make sure everything is alright and then have it? I suddenly realise how inappropriate that is, and quickly push it from my mind.

  Once again, oddly, the hatch is closed. I open it and climb down to the lowest deck. The air down here always has a metallic aroma, kind of burning metal, with a strong oil smell just underneath it. Everything smells almost normal now, just a faint hint. The room is pretty big, with a huge covered shaft that runs from one end to the other, and solar energy storage and main generators on the far side. The shaft is completely covered in tubes, wires, control panels and lots of other things that I have no idea about. There's a gangway that runs above it and either side of it. At the end of each gangway is a small hatch, which gives you access to the inspection tubes that run underneath the hangar deck and above the fuel tanks that run the entire underside of the ship. The tubes are no more than a metre and a half in diameter, and you have to be on your hands and knees to get through them. Robert isn't a fan as he can hardly fit, and I'm not a fan because, like any normal person, small spaces freak me out.

  It's really quite eerie down here with the engines not running. Normally it sounds terrifying, as if the engine is on the verge of tearing itself apart. But now: nothing. Just dead silence. I shout out Tom’s name. The echo bounces around a few times, but I don't get an answer. There are plenty of places to hide down here, and usually you'd have to hunt for someone if they weren't at their station, because of the deafening racket. But now, in this silence, if anyone were down here they would have heard me.

  I begin to feel nauseous. The fear is slowly building up in my body. There is no way that they're all in the inspection tubes, absolutely no way. But I have to look.

  The small ladder to the first gangway takes me seconds to clear. I then stand staring at the first hatch. I don't want to open it, I'm afraid of what happens if they're not in there. What the fuck do I do then?

  The wheel turns easily, and I press the two switches. The hatch opens with a hiss. I peer in. It's dark, but I can pretty much see all the way to the front of the ship. Empty.

  With a small push, the hatch closes and I climb the metal steps to the gangway above the shaft. I open it. That tube is empty as well.

  Heavy footed, I walk down the steps to the last gangway. I almost don't bother to open the hatch, it makes no sense that they'd be in there. Not all of them anyway. I finally open it and it's the same as the rest. Empty.

  One half of this crew has completely vanished. I
can't quite get this idea into my head, it doesn't make sense. There’s nowhere for them to go. I can feel my throat getting tight, and I loosen my top button. I can taste bile building up and before I know it, I vomit over the engine shaft. I take a deep breath and realise that I haven't stopped being sick yet, and start choking on it. I try to breathe in but can't, I try again and it's like trying to breathe through polythene.

  Fully panicking now, I throw myself at the wall above the hatch, back first, hoping that I may dislodge some of the sick. I still can't breathe, I throw myself again, and still nothing. My vision starts to cloud and I try one more time, as hard as I can before I've lost all of my strength.

  Hitting the wall at the wrong angle, I lose balance and topple over the safety rail. I fall about five feet and land full force on my back. I'm in agony, but seem to be able to breathe again. Not very well, it hurts as I try, but air is now getting through.

  I lie there for what seems like ages. I try to process what's happening, but at the moment I'm completely at a loss. I wait until I'm breathing without effort and then try to get up. Oh fuck that hurts. I use the safety rail to help me, and then use it to steady myself. I climb the ladder back on to the gangway then the stairs and get back to the other side. Once down, I walk over to a control panel and press the big red emergency button. The alarm goes off, loud enough to wake up the dead.

  4

  I’m sitting alone on the middle table of the rec deck. I’ve been here for more than five minutes and still no one has arrived. The alarm is ringing out loudly and I can barely hear myself think. I’m scared. I don’t want to be the only person on board. I'm assuming everyone on my shift knows that the rec deck is the emergency meeting area. The cargo bay beyond the drink and snack machines has the only two escape pods in it, so it’s the only place on board that would really make any sense. But I’m still here alone. Just as I’m about to properly go into a full panic mode, I hear clanking on the ladder. I sit up straight, and try to look like I know what’s happening.

  I’m relieved that Mark arrives first, and at the moment he's still wearing the long johns he slept in, and looks barely awake. He sits at the table opposite me and asks what's going on. I look up and tell him to wait until everyone else arrives. Kerry's next, looking a lot more awake than she did earlier and already in her uniform, or costume as she calls it. Tim climbs down next, looking as well-presented as ever. He offers everyone a drink, but no one takes him up on his offer.

  We then sit for what seems like an age, waiting for Robert to arrive. I start hoping that maybe he's disappeared as well, when we all finally spot his fat arse climbing through the hatch from the habitation deck. He sits down, and doesn't say anything, which is unusual for him. I'm guessing he's still sulking. I walk to the control panel on the wall and turn off the alarm.

  “Okay,” I say. “We have a massive problem.”

  Mark looks at me.

  “Aren't we going to wait for the rest of the crew to arrive? Be rude to start without them,” he says.

  “That's the problem,” I say. “They're gone.”

  Everyone around the table stares at me.

  “What the fuck do you mean: they're gone?” Kerry asks.

  “They're just gone. I noticed that the engines had stopped when I got up, and when I went to see Tom about it, he wasn't in our office,” I say.

  Robert looks at me like I need to be stepped on.

  “You set off the emergency alarm because Tom wasn't in his office? You complete fucking prick, I knew you were a useless cunt but this is …”

  “Fuck you Robert. There was no one on the bridge either, or the rec deck, or the engine room, or in the inspection tubes. They have vanished into thin fucking air.”

  “Shut up, the pair of you,” Kerry shouts. “John, what's happened to them then? They can't have just disappeared. It's not possible. There's really nowhere to go.”

  Mark shakes his head and looks completely confused.

  “I don't understand, how can they just be gone? We’ve got to tell the company,” he says.

  “Not until we have something to tell them. I have no idea where they’ve gone, but we'll have to find out, and pretty soon,” I say.

  Robert looks up from the table with a smile on his face.

  “You've checked everywhere, yes?” he says slowly.

  “Yes,” I reply, even slower.

  “When you say everywhere, you mean everywhere, right? Even, say, the hangar?” he says and leans back in his chair.

  I stare at him. My heart stops. The thought hadn't even occurred to me to check it. The hangar is by far the biggest part of the ship, about four times the size of the entire crew area, and I hadn't even considered looking there. What do I say to this without looking like a complete idiot? I have no idea. I'm stumped, and I know there’s really no point lying about it.

  “Um … no,” I manage, and look down at the table. There is a dead silence, and I can feel the smugness burning off Robert like a fire.

  “Well there you have it ladies and gentlemen, our manager is officially a useless piece of shit,” he says, grinning and clearly no longer sulking.

  Mark then starts laughing.

  “I can't believe you didn't check the hangar, of all places. It's massive! But I guess it's so chocked full of waste containers it would have taken hours. Lazy fucker!” he says.

  Great, they're a tag team again. Lucky me.

  Kerry gives Mark a sharp look, his face drops and he looks away. She looks straight at Robert.

  “Why would Tom, Sam, Will and Ian be in the hangar? I mean one or two of them, yeah, it’s fuckin' possible, but all four of them? That doesn't make any sense. None at all. Did you think about that before you decided to rub John’s nose in it? I don't fucking think so,” she says loudly.

  He looks at her and lowers his head slightly, looking a little deflated, and says nothing.

  “I suppose I’d better check it then,” I say quietly.

  I get up, and walk to the door between the snack and drink machines. The cargo bay has the only entry into the hangar on the whole ship, and it occurs to me that I haven't checked in here either. I open the door and look around: the two escape pods are in place, and there are a few boxes piled up here and there, but nowhere really to hide.

  “Tom,” I quietly shout. No answer. He's not here, and I almost feel glad about it. I turn right towards the hangar’s airlock and punch in the code to open the door. It beeps angrily at me and lets me know in no uncertain terms that it's not going to open. That's a bit odd, so I type in the pass code again, but a lot slower to make sure I didn't get it wrong the first time. It beeps angrily again. I look through the small round window into the airlock, and then look at the far door. It's not there.

  The Sun is shining through the space where the door to the hangar used to be.

  My heart stops again as I realise. Oh my fucking God, the entire hangar bay is gone.

  I walk back to the rec area and stand in the door. Everyone stares at me.

  “That was quick, I bet you've forgotten the code, you complete cock,” Robert says and looks around the table smiling.

  I look at him.

  “Have a look yourself, you fat fuck,” I say.

  In my head that was loud and aggressive. But I think I probably just mumbled it quietly. I seriously doubt Robert even heard it.

  He gets up and barges past me to the hangar airlock. Kerry gets up and walks towards me.

  “John, you okay? You look a little pale,” she says, looking concerned.

  “Where's the fucking hangar gone?” Robert shouts.

  At that point, everyone decides to barge past me and have a look.

  There’s a lot of shouting and swearing going on in the cargo bay. I’m not sure what to do with myself, so I go and grab myself a coffee, and sit back down at the table and nervously wait for them to return.

  I've just about composed myself when Kerry, Robert, Mark and Tim come single file through the door, and on
e by one sit down. I look around the table and try to put on an air of authority.

  “As far as I can tell,” I say, “we're dead in the water. I don't know if the engines are working, or if we've had a major mechanical failure. So, Robert, can you please get down there and see if you can figure out what's wrong, if anything?”

  Robert stands up and looks at Mark.

  “Are we actually going to listen to him? After what's just happened?” he says and then looks around the table. I take a sip from my coffee, which oddly tastes quite nice now. I’m about to reply, when after pretty much saying nothing for the whole trip, Tim finally pipes up.

  “What exactly did he do wrong, Robert? Tell me,” he says.

  Robert doesn't say anything, he just stares at Tim with a look of puzzlement on his face, for what seems like ages. I guess he thought everyone was firmly on his side. He then finally speaks.

  “He called a meeting before he had all the facts,” he finally manages. “And he didn't check the hangar bay.”

  “Is that it? Is that all? So he forgot to check the hangar bay. But wait, it's not there anymore. Had he checked it first, we'd still be in exactly the same position. That hardly makes him a useless piece of shit as you called him. He pretty much had all the main facts. You petty, petty man.”

  I have to stifle a grin. I enjoyed that quite a lot. Maybe I will accept a drink from him the next time he offers.

  “Robert, if you would, please can you check the engines,” I say.

  He says nothing, then stands up and walks to the ladder with his head slightly slumped, and climbs down to the engine room.

  “Kerry, Mark, can you guys head to the bridge and see if you can find out where the hanger is now?” I ask, and then look at Tim.

  “Tim, can you stay in the cargo bay and see if you can work out why the hangar went walkies? And um, thanks for that.”

  “Anytime, John. I’m happy to help out any way I can,” he says in his odd voice, and then walks to the cargo bay. I follow Kerry and Mark up to the bridge.