Orion Lost

by Alastair Chisholm

  I am the master of my own ship.

  “Yes,” she said.

  He looked at her for a second longer. “We have to go quickly,” he said. “The bodies will start rejecting us soon.”

  “Wait,” she called out, and he turned. She said, “I should go first. So you can see me. In case I, I … freak out.”

  He pulled aside, and she lifted a foot …

  … and put it down in front of her.

  And again.

  Slowly, they inched across the hull of the Orion.

  35

  The Bridge

  There was a tiny dot on the horizon.

  Beth ignored it and looked down again. Left foot up … forward … down. Right foot up…

  The dot became something real, a tiny bump in the hull. She stepped. The bump became a turret, some sort of structure. She stepped. The structure became an access hatch point.

  She reached out a hand and grasped the railing to the side of the hatch and stopped dead. Vihaan came round the side.

  “We’re there,” he said into his mike.

  Lauryn’s face appeared on their screens. “OK,” she said. “We’re all set. How are you doing, Beth?”

  “I’m OK,” she mumbled. She couldn’t take her eyes off her hand, gripping the rail. “Let’s … get inside.”

  Lauryn nodded. “Here goes.”

  Vihaan turned the locking wheel and the hatch popped open. Beth made herself let go of the railing – I will be OK. I will be OK – and clambered down the hatch and the steps below, to a small room no bigger than an escape pod. Behind her, Vihaan locked the hatch, came down the steps, and closed an inner door.

  “OK,” he said. “We’re in.”

  The little room started to fill with air. Lauryn had privately re-activated the security camera in the dorm, and on Beth’s screen she saw the others lie down on their beds – everyone except Lucille. She activated the ship intercom.

  “Monsieur Kier,” she called. “Capitaine Kier, are you there? Capitaine!”

  Kier’s voice came over Beth’s earphones. “What is it?”

  He didn’t sound very interested.

  “I need to go to the bathroom,” Lucille said in her best I’m-a-little-girl voice.

  “You can go soon. I’ve got to finish something here—”

  “Non, non, non!” cried Lucille. “I must go now. Now, Capitaine Kier!”

  “Fine!” he snapped, and then sighed. “Fine. I’ll come down. Hang on.” He rang off.

  “He is coming,” said Lucille in her normal voice again.

  “Good work, Lucille,” said Beth.

  Recompression was nearly complete. The lights pinged green and Beth reached up, unfastened her helmet, and gasped a breath of the ship’s air with relief. They removed their suits as quickly as possible, keeping the heads-up glasses on, and waited by the doorway for Kier to go past.

  Beth reached out and opened the door. Her hand wouldn’t let go. She frowned and tried to force it open, but it wouldn’t move.

  “My hand,” she said.

  Vihaan nodded.

  “It’s the body,” he hissed. “It’s rejecting you.” He spoke through clamped teeth, forcing the words out.

  “You too?”

  “Yesss. Hard to. Move.” He shook his head. “You can. Do it.”

  Beth looked back at her hand. Move, hand, she thought. I don’t have time for this. MOVE. Gradually, the fingers uncurled.

  They didn’t have long.

  Down in the dorm, Arnold and Lauryn were leaning over the screen. “We’re ready when you are,” said Arnold.

  “Wait until he’s down there,” said Beth.

  She peered round the corner. There, at the end, was the entrance to the bridge. Lucky the Gizmo was guarding it. He stood at a slope, one leg shorter than the other, and scanned around in a slow sweep. Beth pulled her head back in.

  They waited.

  * * *

  Kier arrived at the dorm. Beth could see him on her glasses screen – he looked tired, greasy-skinned, bags under his eyes. He held his gun tight in one hand.

  “OK,” he said. “Washroom break.”

  “Merci, m’sieur,” said Lucille, and trotted past him. Lauryn and Arnold lay on their bunks, ignoring him.

  Kier looked down at the bodies of Beth and Vihaan. He frowned. “What’s wrong with them?” His voice was suspicious.

  Mikkel said softly, “They’re asleep.” He shrugged. “They spent most of the night trying to work out a plan to escape.”

  Kier smiled. “And what did they come up with?”

  The children gazed at him. He frowned. “I said ‘What did they come up with?’” He stared at the sleeping pair, reached down and shook Beth’s shoulder, hard. She didn’t move.

  He glared at the others, his eyes wild. “What’s going on?” he demanded. “What have you done?”

  Arnold looked him in the eye. “This,” he said.

  He pulled the pad out from under his pillow, pressed a button, and Lucky the Gizmo blew up.

  “He’s locked down the Gizmos pretty tightly,” Arnold had said. “We can’t control them, or at least not Stumpy. But I rebuilt Lucky from scratch. I know him. They charge by induction, but his induction coil is flaky. We can send a feedback loop into his main battery, and if we do it right, the batteries will overheat spectacularly. He’ll literally … explode.”

  He’d looked a bit sad.

  The sound was colossal. The explosion pushed a wave of air down the corridor, and Beth and Vihaan, crouched round the corner with their hands clamped over their ears, felt the blast as a scorching heat. Then there was an echoey silence.

  Beth checked her glasses screen. Kier was still there but had a look of horror on his face.

  Ship’s hologram appeared in front of him. “Explosion,” it said. “There has been an explosion on the bridge corridor.”

  Kier stared at the children, and then turned and fled back up towards the bridge.

  “Come on,” called Vihaan. He tried to stand, but his legs gave way beneath him. Beth stood, reached with her one working hand and pulled him up. They scrabbled round the corner. The bridge entry was blasted apart, just a ripped hole, and shreds and fragments of Lucky lay scattered around, smouldering.

  Klaxons sounded and the corridor lights turned red. Ship appeared in front of them. The hologram projectors in the corridor were damaged and the image jittered and glitched.

  “Intruder,” it said calmly. “You are an intruder. You should not be here.”

  “Ship, it’s us,” managed Vihaan.

  “I’m sorry,” said Ship. “Communications are locked to bridge access only.”

  They inched a little further. Beth’s headset crackled.

  “He’s nearly there!” shouted Lauryn’s voice. “Move it!”

  They staggered along the corridor as their bodies seized up around them. Beth could hear running footsteps. They were only two metres from the bridge entrance. One metre…

  “Stop!”

  Kier hurtled round the corner. He was holding his gun and running towards them. “Stop right now!”

  Beth pushed Vihaan forward, then tumbled after him. They crashed over the remains of the entrance and on to the floor of the bridge, and Beth rolled on to her back.

  Kier was standing over them, staring at Vihaan in astonishment.

  “Captain Joshi!” he exclaimed. “How are you…?” He shook his head. “You can’t be Awake! I mean…”

  Ship’s hologram appeared before them. “Intruders,” it said. “Intruders.”

  “But how?” demanded Kier. “How can you be—” He stopped, and his eyes widened. “Vihaan?”

  “Ship!” shouted Beth. “Identify intruders!”

  Kier said, “What are you—”

  “Intruders identified,” said Ship. “Intruders appear to be Captain Amarjeet Joshi and Third Officer Carol McKay.”

  “Ship!” shouted Vihaan. “Relieve Kier of command by authority of senior bridge offic
ers Joshi and McKay!”

  Ship paused and flickered. “Processing,” it said. “Authority of Captain Henry Kier is under review.”

  Kier looked at the hologram as if it was insane. “What?”

  “Captain Kier, your authority on board the Orion has been challenged by senior bridge officers. Please respond.”

  “They’re not— What? You can’t be serious!” He ran a hand through his hair. “They’re not senior bridge officers! They’re children!”

  Ship said, “They appear to be Captain Amarjeet Joshi and Third Officer Carol McKay.”

  “But they’re not! They’ve just taken over their bodies!”

  Beth slowly pulled herself to her feet. Her legs were working, but her left arm was now dead below the shoulder. Vihaan was worse; he was trying to pull himself away like an injured crab.

  Ship said, “Authentication services are limited. Authentication protocols have been disabled. They appear to be Captain Amarjeet—”

  “But they’re not!” Kier almost wailed. “They’re obviously not!”

  “Authentication protocols have been disabled.”

  “Then enable them!”

  Ship blinked. A shimmer ran across it.

  “Authentication protocols re-enabled,” it said. “Processing… This is most likely not Captain Amarjeet Joshi. This is most likely Vihaan Joshi. This is most likely not Third Officer Carol McKay. This is most likely Beth McKay.”

  Kier smiled in relief. “Yes,” he breathed, and Beth’s shoulders sank. She could hardly move now. Kier examined her face, peering into her eyes. “Wow,” he said, shaking his head, and grinning with some of his old swagger. “I gotta admit, Beth, that was a pretty good try. You nearly—”

  “Further authentication checks are now possible,” said Ship, ignoring him. “Henry Kier, your account of your disappearance was falsified. There is evidence that you have been involved in smuggling operations. Your actions are inconsistent with those of a starship captain. Your authorisation cannot be verified.”

  “What? Wait—”

  Beth smiled.

  “Revoking your command privileges until further verification,” continued Ship. “Processing. Beth McKay is the most senior viable candidate. Captain McKay, please select your second-in-command.”

  “Vihaan!” she shouted.

  “Vihaan Joshi confirmed as second-in-command.”

  Kier stared at them. “No,” he muttered. “No-no-no! What have you done? What have you…” He looked at the gun in his hand and then pointed it at Beth. “Stop!” he shouted. “Don’t move!”

  Ship said, “Captain Kier, your actions are hostile. Please disarm yourself.”

  “Shut up! Just shut up!”

  Beth stood in front of him. Her arms hung helpless by her side. Her eyes were drawn towards the black muzzle of the gun, centimetres from her face; from her mum’s face. She tried to speak but her jaw was rigid and frozen.

  Kier snarled, “We’re taking it, you understand? Even if I have to stand here until Murdoch arrives!” The gun wandered in his hands, and his finger twitched on the trigger, apparently without him realising.

  Behind him, Vihaan reached with his one good hand and picked up a piece of rubble.

  “All this!” shouted Kier. “Stupid, stupid! Just to save a bunch of useless Videshi!”

  “It’s murder,” she muttered, her lips barely moving. “They’re an intelligent species.”

  “They’re cattle,” he hissed.

  Beth glared at him. She wondered how she’d ever thought him impressive. He was so … weak. She could barely move, but, still, he was the weak one.

  I am the master of my own ship, she thought, and smiled through frozen lips. I do not control the seas. I cannot control the wind. But still—

  Vihaan threw the piece of rubble at Kier as hard as he could. It hit him on the side of his neck; staggering, Kier swung round and fired the gun.

  Vihaan!

  The bullet missed, hit the ground nearby and ricocheted away in a shower of sparks.

  “Oh god!” Kier shouted in alarm. “I didn’t mean— Are you OK? I didn’t mean it!”

  “Kier,” murmured Beth. “Kier.”

  Kier turned. “What?”

  I am the master of my own ship.

  The fingers of her right hand curled into a fist, and Beth’s arm swung. It started fast and accelerated as it rose, moving with the heft and muscle of Carol McKay’s long arms and the power of Beth McKay’s own will. It was clear and fearless and certain.

  It was beautiful. It connected with his chin, followed through and lifted Kier off his feet; he crashed down on to the shattered deck as his gun spun off into a corner of the bridge. He was unconscious before he even hit the ground.

  Beth looked down at him, swaying slightly. “This is my ship,” she hissed.

  36

  Children

  Beth heard footsteps running towards the bridge, but she could no longer turn her head. She let herself fall to her knees, and then into an ungainly sprawl on the deck. Mikkel bent over her, holding a Sleep disc, and fastened it to the side of her head. When he let go her head flopped backwards and she saw Lucille and Lauryn dragging her body – her real body – on to the bridge, and felt a moment of wild vertigo at the sight of herself. Behind them came Arnold with Vihaan’s body. He was saying something about Captain Murdoch. Forty minutes to arrival.

  It wasn’t long enough. They weren’t going to have time to get away.

  Mikkel loomed over her again. “We have to get your parents’ bodies back to their Pods,” he said. “Ready?”

  Beth couldn’t answer, so she just blinked twice—

  —and was gone.

  * * *

  “Once we’ve taken care of Kier, we’ll still have deal with Murdoch,” Beth had said. “Kier’s shut down Generator One – we have to get it back up and running, and then charge the emitters. If we do it before they arrive, then we can Jump – but if not…”

  Vihaan had said, “We need a backup plan.”

  They’d gone through the inventory. They had very little ammunition. Some explosives. Not a lot. Not enough.

  “There,” Beth had said eventually, pointing at the screen. “That. And six escape pods. No, ten.” She’d explained her plan. “Lucille – we’ll need to be ready to Jump the moment we can. Mikkel, you have to get us ready. And, Arnold…”

  “Captain?”

  “You’re going to get a chance to fire those guns.”

  Forty minutes later, the Scraper warship Scorpio Jumped and arrived, ready for battle, surrounded by her sister ships. As soon as its main computer booted, it activated laser-grid shields to destroy any incoming missiles and swept the area for signs of attack.

  The little silver pen in Captain Murdoch’s hand flicked back and forward against the arm of the chair. Tap-tap-tap. “Any sign of them?” she asked her tactical officer.

  “Yes, ma’am. They’re at the coordinates.”

  She smiled, hungrily, like a wolf.

  Her intelligence officer said, “Both generators are powered up, captain.”

  Murdoch stopped smiling. “That wasn’t the plan. Can they Jump?”

  The officer studied her readings. “I don’t think so,” she said. “The emitters aren’t charging. I think one of the generators has been restarted, but it’s not running at full capacity yet.”

  “Have they tried to make contact?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “Contact them,” said Murdoch.

  Tap-tap-tap. Tap-tap-tap.

  “No answer.”

  “Give me a channel,” she said. “Orion. This is Captain Murdoch of the Scorpio. Please respond.”

  Nothing.

  “Kier, are you there?” She looked across at her comms officer, who shrugged.

  “They’re receiving,” she said. “They’re just not answering.”

  “Orion, if you do not answer, I will assume that you have become incapacitated. My crew are ready to board in order
to rescue your people. You have—”

  “This is Captain McKay.”

  The voice came out of the speakers. The screen was black. Again with this nonsense, thought Murdoch. The voice was the same as before, with that slightly distorted twang.

  And not Kier.

  “Scraper vessel, do not approach,” said the voice. “We have planted mines around the ship and this area of space. If your craft comes any closer, you will be severely damaged.”

  “Really?” Murdoch cast an eye to her tactical officer, who tapped quickly at his screen and shook his head. “That seems unlikely, Captain McKay. You don’t have any mines. Where’s Captain Kier?”

  “Kier is no longer in command of this vessel,” came the voice. “We know you want the N-32 device, but you won’t get it. And, I assure you, we do have mines and we can use them. Call off your attack.”

  The voice sounded oddly sure of itself; different from before, Murdoch thought.

  “Their generators are both fully operational now, ma’am,” said her intelligence officer. “They could Jump, if they charged their emitters.”

  Murdoch spoke quickly. “Orion, you’ve powered up your generators. You may be thinking of Jumping. I’ve done enough hopping around looking for you. If you charge your emitters we will open fire, do you understand? Do you understand, Orion?”

  Silence.

  Tap-tap-tap.

  “Enough of this,” she said at last. She leaned forward in her chair. “Orion, you don’t have mines, or we would have detected them already. You’re bluffing; you have nothing. So let me now be clear. My ships are going to come in and land, and we’re going to take the device. If you surrender, I promise you safe berth home, and this can all end. But if you resist…” She let her voice fall into a snarl. “I will burn you all into vapour.”

  She glared at the blank screen. “We’ve followed you a long way, Captain McKay, but this is the end of it, you hear me? You will give us the device, now, understand? Understand?” She cocked her head, listening for a reply.

  Nothing.