Orion Lost

by Alastair Chisholm

  “Captain!”

  23

  Collisions

  Vihaan shouted, “Lucille – could we Jump now? Lucille!”

  “There’s the other one!” shouted Arnold, and now Beth could see that beside the behemoth was the tiny ship they’d rescued. Its screeching, clicking voice came over their radio channel, and was joined by a throbbing, low-pitched, booming bass, slower but mighty and deep enough to make Beth’s teeth shake.

  “LUCILLE!” roared Vihaan desperately.

  “Wait, it might not be hostile—” started Mikkel.

  “Arnold, arm defensive systems!” shouted Vihaan.

  Arnold gaped at him, then nodded and pressed keys as fast as he could.

  Lauryn stared at the screen. “Awesome,” she breathed.

  It was just so big. Beth could make out the surface, covered in thousands of what looked like smaller craft docked there. Some were like the little one they’d helped; some were larger, some smaller still. The hull seemed to be built of overlapping plates in a rough pattern, as if they’d been repaired over and over again for millennia. Like the other ship, its surface was covered with lights, but they were dimmer and pulsed on a slower beat.

  She realised that some of the smaller ships were detaching and moving in their direction.

  The noise was threatening to melt her bones and she muted the speakers. The room became silent. Even Vihaan didn’t say anything. But the alien vessel seemed to have a sound even in the silence, a ringing in Beth’s ears from the sheer size of it. It loomed over them, vast, too vast to understand, growing even larger, incomprehensible…

  “The emitters are ready,” murmured Lucille. Even she seemed distracted. “I mean, we can Jump. Should we Jump? Capitaine?”

  So big…

  “The small ships are heading towards us!”

  “Capitaine!”

  Beth shook her head. “Yes,” she muttered. “Yes, hell yes. Jump, Jump now!”

  Mikkel said, “Wait, I don’t think—” But before he could finish his sentence the Sleep systems activated, consciousness blinked out, and the last thing Beth saw was Mikkel’s head falling back against the headrest of his chair.

  * * *

  Beth became aware of a voice, Ship’s voice, next to her.

  “—Danger. Danger. Hostile environment encountered. Preparing for emergency Jump—”

  What?

  From the depths of her Sleep the words pulled at Beth and attempted to force her brain awake. She tried to remember who she was, what she was—

  “Emitters charging; prepare for emergency Jump in thirty seconds. Jump emitters damaged. Damage to hull on Sections A-five, B-two, D-thirteen. Collision imminent—”

  The ship is in danger! she realised.

  “Report! Ship, report!” Vihaan’s voice, slurred but awake.

  “Jump destination not as expected. Danger: proximity to asteroid field. Collision imminent. Activating short-range defence—”

  Asteroids!

  Beth prised her eyes open. Ship’s holographic head was staring at her, and behind it the main viewer was showing a vast rocky mass hurtling towards them, glinting in the ship lights as it spun and moving far too fast. It was going to hit, it was going to hit, it was going to hit—

  It exploded into thousands of pieces.

  “Target destroyed,” said Ship. “Seven incoming targets identified.”

  Beth tried to stand, reaching a shaking hand out to lift herself up. “Ship, what’s happening?”

  “Prepare for emergency Jump in fifteen seconds. Collision imminent. Activating short-range defence… Target not destroyed. Prepare for impact—”

  There was a crump and the Orion shuddered to the right, throwing Beth out of her chair and on to the floor.

  “Arnold!” Vihaan again. “Man the guns!” Beth couldn’t hear if Arnold replied. Her head was pounding, the floor moving under her as she tried to rise.

  “Collision in Section A-thirty-nine,” continued Ship. “Three emitters damaged. Six incoming targets identified. Remaining emitters ready to Jump. Please confirm Jump.”

  She managed to lift her head and stared at the screen. There were rocks everywhere, in all directions, spinning crazily as the Orion tumbled between them and towards them—

  Jump, she thought, but couldn’t say the words. Jump.

  “Jump!” shouted Vihaan’s voice.

  “Non!” said Lucille.

  “Jumping—”

  Beth’s head collapsed back down, cracking against the deck as she lost consciousness, and the Orion Jumped again…

  * * *

  When she Woke again, there was something wrong. Something about her body. She was dislocated but somehow aware. Her arms were in the wrong place, there was something over her face…

  She was lying on the deck of the bridge, one arm trapped beneath her, cheek pressed against the metal floor. There was something on her face, but she couldn’t move to clear it. Her head felt as if it had been pounded into little pieces, and her mouth was dry.

  After a while she realised her eyes were open, staring ahead of her. She could smell the stale frightened sweat on the bridge and the greasy notes of too much junk food, and something like copper, metallic and harsh. She was herself again, groggy and feeble but alive…

  Ship was talking.

  “—primary batteries are depleted,” it said. “Emergency Jump completed. Sleep cycle completed successfully. Jump location not as expected. Current location: Sector Forty-three, Sub-sector Nine-two. Emitters were damaged during the Jump. Jump is offline. Hull damage has occurred. Generators One and Four are operational—”

  They must have Jumped into an asteroid field, she realised. Like the little Videshi ship had done. She remembered the sight of the huge rock tumbling towards them and shuddered – Ship must have fired the missile that destroyed it. But something had hit them, hadn’t it? That’s what had thrown her from her chair. They’d been lucky they could still Jump.

  Vihaan had saved them by triggering the Jump when Beth had frozen. Saved them again. Now he worked at his terminal, and as she sat up, he glanced at her, and away…

  There was mutiny in his eyes.

  24

  Mutiny

  “Where are we now?” Beth muttered.

  Vihaan ignored her. She knew he’d heard her.

  “Vihaan,” she insisted. “Where are we?”

  He stopped tapping. “Nowhere.” He scowled. “The Crombie nebula. We are nowhere near anything. We Jumped without enough emitters again and our Jump steering failed again and our emitters were damaged again.”

  She couldn’t face his anger head-on, so she tried to ignore it. “Is there anything around us?”

  “No.”

  She nodded. “OK. Ship, get the Gizmos on emitter repair.”

  Lucille spoke up. “The emitters are worse,” she said bitterly. “We are worse than when we started.”

  Her voice was accusing, and Beth felt her face flush in anger. She tried to stay calm.

  “Well, that’s pretty bad,” she said carefully. “But we have two Gizmos working now, and Arnold’s fixing a third. We can—”

  Arnold slammed a hand on his console. He was wearing a copper bracelet and it cracked against the glass like a rifle shot.

  “I can’t fix the third Gizmo!” he snapped. “It’s too broken. You keep saying that like I’m some kind of engineering genius and you never asked me, and I can’t!”

  Beth waited, feeling the retort rising in her chest, pushing it down. Keep calm. This is what Ship had been teaching her. Don’t lash out.

  “I’m sorry,” she said at last. “You’re right. I was assuming, because of how well you did with the others. I’m sorry. But we still have two Gizmos. We can fix the emitters, and then we can Jump.”

  Mikkel spoke up softly. “The Jump drive was damaged. It will need repairing also. And the Sleep system, from going into emergency mode so often. And the gravity systems.”

  Beth nodded. She loo
ked around. “And what about you, Vihaan?”

  Vihaan shrugged. When he spoke, his voice was calm.

  “I think we’d all like to know just what your plan is, captain,” he said. “In what way are you going to lead us?”

  The hackles rose on the back of Beth’s neck. “I’m trying to get us all home,” she snapped. “I’m trying to keep us safe—”

  “We were safe!” exploded Vihaan. “We were safe at the last point! We were damaged and we needed to repair, but, no, you helped that Videshi ship instead and we had to Jump again and again and now we’re here and our ship is falling apart! I’ve supported you, but you’re putting us in danger. You are putting. Us. In. Danger!” With each word he slammed his console, bang-bang-bang, and every crash was a wave of righteous fury, smashing against her.

  But Beth was ready for his rage this time; she wasn’t going to be shocked into silence again. Ship’s voice was in her head, telling her to maintain control, to keep calm, to think before speaking…

  To hell with it.

  “You shut up and listen to me!” she snapped, standing up. “We were already in danger! We were one Jump away from a fleet of Scrapers. What do you think they did after we Jumped, eh? I’ll tell you what – they sent rat ships to all the likely Jump destinations. And then the next likely. And the next. There were twelve Jumps we could have made from that point and they would have tried each one until they found us!”

  She glared at Arnold. “Wouldn’t they?” she demanded. “Wouldn’t they?”

  He lowered his head and said nothing.

  Lucille said, “But we had to Jump early because you helped—”

  “Early? We had maybe an hour before they turned up,” snarled Beth. She filled her voice with scorn, let it rip out of her and into Lucille like a knife. It was horrible, but she did it anyway. “What, you think that with one more hour you’d have learned to steer this damn thing?”

  Lucille looked shocked. “I-I am trying my best. I—”

  “Yeah, you’re trying your best, but you keep getting it wrong! And Arnold missed the rat that brought the Scrapers because he got it wrong!

  “And then there’s Vihaan.” Venom poured out of her. “Thinks he’s so special because of his daddy, but nearly wet himself when Scrapers appeared! Claims to be supporting me, but spends his whole time going around telling you the captain is messing up! Well, guess what – we’re all messing up! All of us, and him too!” She jabbed a finger at Vihaan and he recoiled, battered by her sudden wrath.

  She stood in the stunned silence, panting with fury. Lucille was crying. Beth pretended not to notice. All of Ship’s coaching, all the times she’d held her anger in check, were gone, burned up.

  “I didn’t ask to be the captain, but that’s what I am,” she hissed. “We are all doing our best and we are all failing and there is nothing we can do about it. So stop blaming me, and stop thinking you could do better, and learn how to do your own damn jobs!”

  Nobody said anything. Arnold looked shocked and slightly shamefaced. Lucille was bent over her console with her long blonde hair covering her face. Vihaan seemed astonished. He glanced around, but he could feel the moment was gone; he nodded, gave a strange small grimace, and sat down again.

  After a few seconds, Lucille stood and ran from the bridge.

  “Arnold,” growled Beth. “Go down to the workshop and figure out how to repair the third Gizmo, and don’t come back until you’ve done it.”

  Arnold looked at her, seemed about to say something. But then he ducked his head and left.

  “Vihaan, we don’t need you on the bridge,” said Beth, still in that cold harsh voice she didn’t recognise. “Return to your dorm and stay there.”

  “I don’t think—”

  “That’s an order,” she hissed. Her hands clenched into fists on the armrests. He stood rigid, with his head bowed; she thought for a moment he was going to refuse. But instead he turned on his heel and left.

  She ignored him. “Lauryn, take over from Lucille. Work out the emitter fix schedule.”

  “Yes, Beth,” said Lauryn softly.

  They sat in silence. Beth stared ahead. Her fingers were tapping against the arms of her chair, and she didn’t seem to be able to make them stop.

  After a while, Lauryn spoke up. “I’ve, uh, checked the emitters. There’s something you need to see.” She held the pad out and Beth turned her head.

  “Tell me.”

  “Well, uh, we took a collision before the last Jump. And the Jump itself … well, it was a bit urgent, and I think it’s damaged the emitter frame.”

  Beth examined Lauryn. She looked so thin and tired. What was she doing with this responsibility? What were any of them doing?

  “What does that mean?” she asked.

  “Well, it means that, when we get the emitters working, we’ll be, uh, uncalibrated. Like, we still won’t be able to steer.”

  Beth nodded and sniffed. “Of course.”

  “I mean, we can fix it,” Lauryn tried. “It’s not actually … it’s not that hard. But it takes a while. We’d have to do some practice Jumps to calibrate it. Sort of … random Jumps.

  “So, ah,” said Lauryn, hesitancy in her voice, “I, ah, thought I should tell you.”

  The bridge fell back into silence. Eventually Beth couldn’t bear it any longer and stood up in a rush. “I’m going for a walk,” she muttered. “Call me if anything else comes up.”

  She left and stalked down the corridor. Her head felt like the inside of a thundercloud. It had to be done, she told herself. You have to maintain order. Sometimes the captain has to be harsh. But at some point, she knew, she was going to have to think about the look of horror on Lucille’s face, the way she had crumpled…

  I am the master of my own ship, she thought.

  But she wasn’t. She’d held the bridge, but lost control of herself.

  She stumbled down another corridor, back the way she had come on her first day aboard. The cloud in her head was too large to let her think, the lightning too dangerous. She walked without looking, took turns and junctions automatically, until she found herself standing at the doorway to her old quarters. She stared at the door, then slowly pushed it open.

  Inside, the layer of dust was still there, the footprints where she and Lauryn had come in to get their stuff. She looked into her parents’ bedroom; she felt an urge to lie on their bed, next to where they should be.

  She walked into her own room and looked at the small stuffed rabbit and the posters. She crept down and slid into the gap behind the bed, the one she’d found long ago. Just large enough to sit in by herself, surrounded on three sides by smooth walls, tucked out of sight.

  Then she put her head in her hands and wept helpless, furious tears until she thought she would drown.

  I didn’t want this! she shouted in her head. Not like this! I wanted to help! I didn’t want to hurt people! I wanted…

  She stared at the wall of the little niche, just a metre in front of her. Her eyes were red; the tears had stopped falling but sat on her lashes, blurring her sight. Gradually the anger and frustration and fear leaked out of her; not forever, but for a while, and she felt herself returning to something like normal.

  I am the master of my own ship.

  She almost smiled. She sat staring at the wall and the tiny doodles she’d drawn on it at some point in the past. There was a little scrap of paper tucked into the gap between two panels.

  After a long time, she reached out and pulled the scrap of paper away. It was folded, and faintly cream-coloured, like the pages of her old diary. It had writing on it, her handwriting. It was shaky and smudged.

  It said:

  SHIP IS LYING TO YOU.

  25

  Lies

  Beth stared at the note. It was her handwriting, she was sure. And she had no doubt it was taken from her diary, with its thick, expensive paper. Her one luxury item, the journal that had been lost from the moment she Awoke.

  She t
urned it over; there was nothing on the other side. She turned it back. The writing was urgent; it had been written in a great hurry by someone who was excited, or angry, or afraid.

  She sat in the niche with her legs pulled up in front of her, feeling the cool walls on either side and behind her. She didn’t move.

  Her writing, on her paper. She had absolutely no memory of it. The person who wrote this was scared; would not have forgotten it. Could not. Unless…

  She thought about the process of Sleeping. Memories and thoughts, backed up and restored by Ship. Mum had told her that no one could alter memories. But what if… What if you could put back old ones? Sort of reset someone to an earlier time. Could you do that?

  If you could do that, then the person wouldn’t even know that they had been awake before.

  She thought about the dust in her quarters; how quickly it seemed to have settled. She thought about her missing diary. Had she written in it? So many things that made no sense. No spacesuits in the locker. Message shuttles all gone. Laser damage. Even how they’d got here…

  And Ship. And Ship’s answers.

  Ship.

  After a long time, she folded the scrap of paper up again and put it in her pocket, and squeezed back out of the little gap.

  Ship’s hologram was waiting for her, hovering in the middle of the living room.

  “Hello, Beth,” it said. “Is everything all right?”

  Beth licked her lips; they seemed very dry. Her red eyes itched. She said, “Hello, Ship. Yes, I’m fine, thank you.”

  Ship said, “The morale of the crew has been affected by recent events.”

  No kidding, thought Beth. “Yes.”

  Ship said, “Crew members have been arguing. Lucille Bouchet is distressed. As captain, you must help them. It is important to restore crew morale.”

  Beth studied the hologram. “Why did you choose me as captain, Ship?”

  “You are the highest-ranked individual on board who can be Woken.”