Orion Lost

by Alastair Chisholm

  “Well,” he said, standing up, “I don’t know about you guys, but I need to hit the sack. I don’t even remember the last time I was in a proper bed. Let’s get the Sparrow sent off before I fall asleep.”

  They headed back to the docking bay and he retrieved his gear, then climbed back aboard to set his message.

  “There,” he said, emerging after a few minutes. “Good to go.”

  Ship said, “I can launch the Sparrowhawk for you and set the course, Captain Kier.”

  “No, it’s fine,” said Kier. “I’ve set her course already. Open the outer doors, please.”

  “Would you like me to check your Jump route?” asked Ship.

  “No, I’m sure it’s OK.” His face was bland, but just for a moment there was a flicker. Something odd – like when he’d heard about the Event.

  He doesn’t trust Ship either, thought Beth. Why was Ship so keen to send the message itself? Did it want to check the route … or change it? She tried to shake the thought away.

  “Just open the doors, Ship,” said Kier.

  The lights changed and the docking bay depressurised with a hissing sound. As the outer doors opened, the scout ship lifted off the ground with a barely audible hum, turned and left, and peeled away until it vanished.

  Kier watched it go with a slight look of longing. “Well,” he said. “That’s that.”

  He walked the children to their dorms and gave them a salute. “See you tomorrow,” he said, grinning. Then he went off to his own cabin and they settled down.

  They were quiet, but smiling. Lying in her bunk, Beth thought she would never get to sleep, happiness bubbling inside her like a fountain. But as soon as she closed her eyes she felt deep relief fill her bones like lead, dragging her down into sleep, and she was gone before her second breath.

  30

  The Captain

  The first thing Beth noticed, when she woke up, was silence. She lay in her dorm bed for what felt like a long time. There was quiet around her, calm.

  After a while she realised that she could still hear the noises of the ship – the whirr of engines, a hiss from the air-conditioning systems and water heaters, the splash of a shower. The silence was inside her head. All the anxious thoughts and questions about what she was doing and whether she was doing it right – gone. Kier was here, they’d sent a message home, they were going to be rescued.

  She lay for a while, until the smell of breakfast lured her out of her bed and down to the canteen and the sound of cheerful conversation. Kier wasn’t there but the others were, tucking into the Orion’s vast supplies of vacuum-packed bacon and eggs and sweet rice and cups of tea.

  “Morning, lazybones!” Arnold called.

  Beth grinned. “Nobody brought me breakfast in bed,” she mock-complained.

  The others smiled. Even Vihaan gave her a brief nod.

  “Hey, that’s what we should do for Captain Kier,” said Lauryn. “We should take him breakfast in bed!”

  “Ooh,” teased Arnold. “Breakfast in bed, Lauryn?”

  Lauryn went a bright shocking red and the others laughed.

  Beth said, “Let’s give him a chance to get used to us. We’re probably a bit overwhelming; he’s been on his own for a while now.”

  “Oh, I think I can probably survive another day with you space rats,” said Kier from behind her.

  She turned. He was standing at the entrance, grinning at them all, well slept and ridiculously handsome. He walked in and the others quickly moved around him, making space for him, offering to bring him a plate of breakfast, asking did he want coffee or tea, did he sleep all right, what did he want to do today…?

  Through it all he smiled and answered them graciously, and appeared quite happy to be mobbed. Beth watched him. He had such a relaxed assurance. Compared to him, even Vihaan seemed brittle and slightly needy. The children hung on his every word – but not just that, Beth realised; he made them want to be better to each other as well. He made them want to show that they could be good.

  Her happy observation was marred by the appearance of Ship.

  “Good morning,” it said.

  Beth grunted.

  Ship said, “The schedule requires the crew to be at their duty positions by oh-eight-hundred hours. It is now oh-eight-oh-five.”

  “I think today’s a bit different, don’t you, Ship?”

  Ship didn’t reply. It looked at Beth for a second and then glided towards Kier, who was tucking into a massive plate of bacon.

  “Good morning, Captain Kier,” it said.

  “G’mmmig,” said Kier cheerfully through a mouthful of food, and lifted his coffee cup. (“You’ve no idea how good coffee tastes,” he’d told them. “A man gets pretty tired of drinking his own recycled water, I tell you.”)

  “I have been reviewing your flight details,” said Ship.

  Kier chewed and swallowed. “Yeah?”

  The avatar nodded. “I am unable to verify them. Verification requires access to the core security protocols of your ship.”

  Kier shrugged. “I sent the Sparrow off last night to go and find help.” He buttered some toast. “Is there a problem?”

  “What was the nature of your mission before the Event occurred?”

  “I was investigating the anomaly,” said Kier. “You sent me out, remember?”

  “Logs have been damaged,” said Ship. “What were—”

  Beth frowned. “Enough, Ship. It’s bad enough for him to be stuck with us without you interrogating him as well.”

  Kier nodded at her and swallowed his toast. “It’s OK, Beth. Ship’s just looking out for us.” He clapped his hands. “Right!” he barked. “Time to get to work.”

  “What do you want to do?” asked Mikkel.

  “Oh!” said Lauryn. “We could show you round the ship!”

  Vihaan said, “He already knows the ship, Lauryn.”

  She pouted. “I mean all the stuff that’s happened since the Event.”

  Kier smiled. “Sounds good. Give me the grand tour!”

  The tour took all morning. It was frequently interrupted by one of the children telling some story in the hope of another expression of approval, or asking some trivial question – “Do you think I should have set the repair bench on the left, Captain Kier?” Beth almost had to physically stop Arnold from demonstrating how many press-ups he could do.

  Eventually, after they’d led Kier round every single part of the ship, and visited the workshop for a second time, Beth ordered them to end the tour for lunch. No one was keen to stop, but when Kier nodded and said, “Excellent idea!” they all agreed, and Beth realised, with a pang, that effectively she’d lost command. Technically she was still the captain, but in reality they now did whatever Kier said.

  Part of her was relieved, utterly relieved, to not have to make any decisions; to not be the one cajoling people to turn up for their duty shifts, to not have to sort out the squabbles, to not feel all the time that all the things that had gone wrong were her fault or hers to solve. But still, there was a twinge of … jealousy? A feeling she’d had that somehow, despite everything, this was her ship. Her crew.

  It occurred to her that Kier was now the senior-ranking officer, so, in fact, she wasn’t even technically the captain any more. Kier should have taken over. She wondered why he hadn’t said anything and concluded that he hadn’t wanted to upset her by seeming to steal her command.

  She walked back to the canteen with the others, smiling and laughing at Kier’s jokes and tried not to think about the moment when she would officially lose her ship.

  They ate lunch at a single large table, all together for the first time in days.

  Kier said, “We should start getting ready for evacuation. Work out what we’ve got, what state the ship’s in for when the rescuers arrive, figure out how to shut everything down.”

  Vihaan nodded. Had he ever been so agreeable when Beth was giving the orders?

  “I sent a quick account last night,” continued
Kier. “Just enough to say what state we were in. Food supplies, that sort of thing. I tried to access the defence capabilities, too, but I couldn’t get anything out of Ship. It’s a suspicious thing, aren’t you, Shippy?”

  “Captain Kier is not authorised to access sensitive information,” said Ship.

  Beth was surprised. “I thought he was the senior officer?”

  Ship shook its holographic head. “Without verification Captain Kier’s authority cannot be recognised. Captain Kier’s original mission is unrecognised. Captain Kier cannot provide verified computer records of his movements since he left the Orion. My authentication protocols will not allow me to recognise Captain Kier’s authority.”

  Kier rolled his eyes at Beth, grinned, and lifted his hands in a helpless shrug.

  Mikkel asked, “Can we override the authentication protocols?”

  Ship blinked. “Authentication protocols may only be disabled by the captain.”

  There was a moment of silence, and then, slowly, the others turned towards Beth.

  There it was. She could give the order, force Ship to acknowledge Kier, and then … then he would become captain. It wouldn’t be her problem any more. She could just leave it to him. She wanted to say yes, but she fidgeted and looked away, stalled for time. Why not just do it?

  Because this is my ship, she thought.

  Kier said nothing. The others stared at her. Only Vihaan seemed uncertain.

  Beth took a deep breath. “OK,” she said. “Ship, I relinquish control of the Orion in favour of Captain Henry Kier. Please transfer control.”

  “I cannot,” said Ship. “Ship authentication protocols prevent Captain Kier from assuming command. His behaviour cannot be verified.”

  “Ship, disable the authentication protocols.”

  “Captain McKay, please confirm your command.”

  Vihaan said, “Beth, are you…?” But then he fell silent. No one else said anything.

  “Yes,” she said. “Disable authentication protocols by my authority.”

  The hologram seemed to freeze for a second. A shimmer ran from top to bottom.

  “Authentication protocols disabled,” it said. “I acknowledge Captain Kier’s account of time offship. Captain Kier is the senior officer aboard the Orion. Captain Kier acknowledged as captain of the Orion. Please select your second-in-command.”

  Kier said, “I select Beth McKay as second-in-command.”

  “Acknowledged.”

  And that was it. Kier smiled at her. “Thanks, Beth. You’ve done an awesome job. I’ll get us home.”

  Beth felt oddly hollow.

  “We need to get ready for rescue,” Kier said. He seemed more serious now, as he took on the captain’s role. “So, I’m going to shut down Generator One.”

  “What?” asked Beth, surprised.

  Kier turned. “Generator Four is enough for life support,” he said. “And it will give Generator One time to cool down.”

  Lucille said, “But we will not be able to Jump.”

  “Do we want to Jump?” he asked. “To another random point? I think not. Which reminds me – Arnold, get the Gizmos off the hull, bring them inside, will you? We need to work out how we can get them to move all the sleep pods when the rescuers come.” He looked across at Ship’s hologram. “Ship – shut down Generator One, captain’s orders.”

  “Acknowledged.”

  “Good. Arnold, Mikkel, Vihaan – I want to know everything we can about the pods. How can we move them, how does their backup power work, all that stuff, OK? I want to know how to keep them running when we unplug them.”

  They nodded. “Lauryn, Lucille – navigation systems. We’ll want a full record of our Jump routes and position. I’ll take inventory, get everything accounted for. Beth, can you look at system shutdown procedures?”

  “Aye, sir,” said Beth, grinning, and he flicked her a pretend salute.

  He stood. “Right,” he said. “Let’s get everyone home.”

  Beth could never get her head round how big the ship was. Orion was old but built sturdily, with endless safeguards and protection systems, environmental controls and procedures. But it seemed her training had changed her more than she’d realised. It no longer seemed impossible, just a lot, and while she worked it still felt, for a while, like her ship.

  She worked on her own, while the others were spread around the ship. It was dull, but Kier kept the radio channels open and stayed in touch while he carried out his inventory. He joked and chatted, and got them to repeat their accounts of how they’d rescued the Gizmos or fixed the Videshi ship, and the time flew. By the time she returned to her dorm that evening, Beth felt exhausted, but more relaxed than she had in weeks.

  Lauryn and Lucille were already there when she arrived, staring at Lauryn’s pad.

  “Hey,” said Beth, smiling. They looked up. Lucille looked worried, and Lauryn was frowning. “What’s up?”

  They looked at each other and Lucille nodded.

  “It’s this,” said Lauryn. “It’s probably nothing, but…”

  She showed Beth her two pads – her old, original one, and the replacement Ship had found her. “I’ve been copying my stuff over to my old pad, you know? After it got wiped. All the ship diagnostics and scans and structural integrity monitoring and reverse scanning for security-defence exploits and—”

  Beth held up a hand, laughing. “Lauryn! Remember, talk human.”

  Lauryn stopped and gave a thin smile. “Right. Right. Only, I did a ship systems scan. I thought I could work out a faster way to do the inventory, as a, you know, a favour to Captain Kier…” Beth raised an eyebrow and Lauryn coughed in embarrassment. “Well, anyway – this happened.”

  She held up the pad and showed Beth an area marked in red. “Cargo Bay 18b. I’m locked out.”

  “Well, there’s lots of stuff off limits,” said Beth, shrugging. “Some of the Area 18 bays are sensitive. Kier was checking them today, I’m sure he’d give you access, if you need it?”

  “That’s just it,” said Lauryn. “I don’t. I never even asked for it. I only noticed it because it was locked. But everyone else has access – you, Lucille, Mikkel, Vihaan, even Arnold. I’m the only one locked out.”

  Beth stopped. “OK, that’s a bit weird.”

  She checked her own pad. “Cargo Bay 18b. You’re right, I can see it on the system. Ship says it’s … eight hundred two-person all-weather tents, plus ten electric generators.” She shook her head. “It must be a glitch. Why would you be locked out of that?”

  Lauryn nodded. “Unless…”

  And Beth realised, finally, what she meant.

  “Unless it’s not really tents,” she said slowly, looking at Lauryn and Lucille. “Unless it’s something else. Something hidden away where no one would think to look – except for the one person Ship could never get to stop snooping…”

  Lucille’s face was pale in the dorm lights. “You know what this means?”

  Beth nodded. She looked up instinctively to the corners of the dorm. The security camera was still pointing down and disabled. She felt her heartbeat increase and breathed slowly.

  “It means Ship is still lying to us.”

  31

  N-32

  “So what do we do?” asked Arnold.

  They stood in a huddle in the boys’ dorm. Lauryn had showed them her pad, with Cargo Bay 18b locked off to her. This time there had been no argument – Vihaan had stared at the screen and then at the cameras just as Beth had. He knew what it meant.

  “We should tell Captain Kier,” said Mikkel.

  “If we tell him this, we’ll have to tell him everything,” said Vihaan. “Everything Ship did. Everything we did.” He chewed his lip, his eyes locked on Beth’s.

  She nodded. “Yeah.”

  “Perhaps it is a mistake,” said Lucille. “Just an error.”

  “Well, why not take a look?” asked Arnold. “I mean, it’s not even far away, right?”

  “Can we do it undetected
?” asked Beth.

  Lauryn shrugged. “Reckon so. I can disable the door monitors with your security codes.”

  “Ship will still know,” muttered Lucille, but Lauryn shook her head.

  “Not if we’re careful. It’s blind and deaf right now, without its cameras. And it’s not that smart – locking me out of that bay was actually pretty stupid. It might as well have put up a big sign saying GO LOOK HERE. We can do this.”

  Beth hesitated, but only for a moment. “Later this evening,” she said. “After Captain Kier has gone to sleep. If we find anything, we tell him tomorrow.”

  At oh-one-hundred ship time, they gathered outside the dorms. No one spoke. Lauryn led the way, watching her pad for signs that Ship had detected them, taking extra care at the doorways. The side panels were dark and idle, the corridor lights low. Their footsteps seemed loud and crashing in the silence.

  “Here,” whispered Lauryn suddenly. “Down here, then left, then left.”

  They reached the cargo-bay door. On Lauryn’s pad Beth could see a red X marking it offline. With Beth’s security codes, Lauryn deactivated the door lock, and they were in.

  Cargo Bay 18b was narrow but long, with shelves on either side stuffed with long green sacks tied with toggles at the end. Beth opened one to reveal plastic poles and shiny material inside.

  “Looks like tents to me,” whispered Arnold.

  Beth nodded. “Check further back.”

  Beyond the shelves of tents were larger objects covered by tarpaulins.

  Mikkel lifted one of the covers and peered inside. “Emergency generator,” he muttered.

  “Same here,” said Vihaan. He lifted another cover. “And here.”

  “I don’t get it,” said Lauryn, frowning. “It has to be in here. Maybe in one of the tent rolls?”