Harbinger

by Stephen Christiansen

  “Yes, lieutenant?”

  “Sir what do we do with the others?”

  “Follow the regular protocol.”

  “Yes sir,” the lieutenant said as he returned a dismissing salute

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  “Word from General Baker,” Lieutenant Anderson stated as he walked into the room.

  The room was wide with several work stations. Each station had a lab worker each with their white lab coats and picture ID cards clamped in place. The workers were attuned to their computer screens and monitors, watching the data pouring in. Stacks of paperwork and binders, computer memory disks and folders were scattered about each desk as the lab attendants continued to make notes or organize the data that was being collected.

  Across one side of the room was a large glass panel that allowed a supervisor to watch over the progress in the room beyond. He had stopped looking at the control panel and the monitor screens before him and turned towards the Marine that had come in with their latest set of commands.

  “The general says to pull the plugs and follow with the natural protocol.”

  That statement seemed to catch everyone’s attention. All eyes and ears turned toward the military personnel to give him consideration as if they hadn’t heard him correctly or perhaps he had gone insane. Some had even given a look of disappointment as if they had worked hard all day long for nothing.

  That was, all except for the supervisor, Doctor Yamamoto Suzuki, or Doc Moto as they called him here. He had already come to the conclusion that this command would be given, although he had hoped that it would have been later rather than sooner. He was hoping to get better results, however he was sure that there would be more test subjects later, he would simply have to start over with another batch.

  Moto had been flown in from Japan at the company’s expense to personally work on this project. It was one of his pride and joys and he was bound and determined to see how far he could push the envelope before his subjects suffered any ill effects such as permanent brain damage. This was a side effect that was unacceptable and would not be tolerated by Mister “Smith”. However, anything up to that point was permissible.

  All of that would have to wait until his next batch of subjects would arrive. Until then, he had another promising project that he was overseeing that was already giving promising results.

  The doctor moved closer to his counsel and touched the intercom button that allowed him to communicate with the other lab technicians in the other room that was only separated by the large window.

  “The procedure is over. Prepare the subjects for their final protocols.”

  The half dozen lab technicians, all in their white outfits, white masks and blue gloves stopped what they were doing. Their place wasn’t to ask why. Their place was only to do.

  Their large room had eight patient tables set up, each with an individual upon them. These patients were clothed in military issue terraforming outfits, lightweight and comfortable yet able to withstand variances in heat and cold. Their multiple pockets would allow any scientist the ability to carry whatever was needed on their mission. A pure white sheet was draped over each unmoving subject, allowing only their face to be seen.

  Each patient was attached to many different machines. Some of the wires lead to monitors that watched over heart rate and blood pressure. Most of the wires, however, were attached to the patients’ scalp where machines monitored the patients’ brain wave activities.

  Monitors and computer consoles flashed with numbers and letters and charts as data was being collected. Equipment beeped, a couple small generators kicked in and then shut off, the overhead lights buzzed with electricity and the machines all hummed with power. No other sound was made. The eight unconscious and unmoving patients never made a peep of protest and the half dozen lab techs in their white outfits and blue gloves said not a word.

  Keeping with the verbal silence that was only broken by Doctor Yamamoto, the six technicians started to move about their room. They started systematically to pull the wires from the patients, unplug the machines and turn off the monitors. The humming of power stopped. The beeping of heart rate monitors deceased and only showed a constant flat line instead of the rhythmic pulse that it had been showing. The data on the screens was no longer displayed. It would be a few minutes more before the patients were completely unplugged and shortly the room would be empty as if nothing had ever been here.

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  Thomas sat back in his office chair with his feet upon the control console that took up the majority of the wall in front of him. Dials, controls, buttons and levers all populated the console all preset to their individual settings by his superiors some time ago. His job wasn’t to touch any of them; his job was to watch over them.

  Above the console were the monitors. These showed the life support signs of the various individuals that they were supposed to monitor. Heart rate, blood pressure, brain waves and every form of vitals were monitored, twice for each patient. The first set of these readings were at their bare minimum, showing that the patients were in the state that they were supposed to be in, in a state of coma. The second set of readings showed that the patients were active, alive, and doing well.

  Thomas gave a sigh as he flipped through the girly magazine that he was looking at instead of the monitors that he was being paid to watch. This was the most boring job that he could think of. However, the pay was good and his benefits were great even if his nighttime shift wasn’t. All in all, he didn’t have to do much; the alarms would go off if there were any changes. Only then would there be something to do, and that rarely happened.

  Suddenly one of the monitors came to life with activity. One of the sets of vitals that were monitoring a living individual started to become erratic. Heart rate fluctuated. Brain wave activities were off the scale. An alarm started to sound. Red lights started to flash.

  Immediately Thomas jumped from his seat. In his near panic he had toppled over the chair that he was sitting in and had caused it to crash to floor.

  Thomas started to tap on a few monitors as if by his mere touch they would change or the situation that it was monitoring would somehow go away. When that didn’t work, he flipped a couple of switches and turned a few dials. Still the vitals were erratic. His fear had come true. The readings were accurate and the monitors were working correctly.

  Then, without further warning, the erratic vital signs stopped. The heart rate flat lined. The brain waves ceased. There was a dull tone that had replaced the beeping of the pulse. The living half of the patient was dead. However, the vitals below remained the same, still in a coma state.

  “Joe! Hey Joe!” Thomas shouted to some unseen co-worker further down the hall. “We’ve got another rez.”

  Joe had heard the echo of his co-worker further down the hall but had a hard time hearing what he had said. With a flip of a switch, he turned off the sonic “broom”, a device that looked more like a metal detector but used the vibrations of sound waves to loosen up dirt and grime before the floor would be vacuumed to remove all of the dirt and dust and then would be mopped with a sterilizing agent. Under this procedure the floors would be pristine and sterile.

  It had been Thomas’s shift to do the floors. However, Joe had lost a bet and in the process had to fill in yet another shift. Perhaps the next time he had an urge to make a wager against Thomas, he would think twice.

  “What was that? I didn’t hear you.”

  “I said, we’ve got a rez.”

  “Ya sure? It’s not a malfunction again, is it? You know what happened last time we were wrong. The rez had to be destroyed and a lot of money had to be refunded.”

  “Yah, I’m sure. I’ve checked and rechecked the system. We’ve got a definite rez.”

  Joe’s sigh was loud enough that Thomas could hear it even from this distance.
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  “Fine,” Joe finally announced back. “Who is it this time? Which container is it?”

  “A5543.”

  Thomas could hear Joe’s footsteps leave the common hallway and head down toward the rez stations.

  “Let’s see, let’s see. A...5...5...40, 41, 42...ah here we go, A5543. Oh no, not her again.”

  “What is it Joe?”

  “It’s that girl, you know, the cute one.”

  “Well, as long as she’s paid up. That’s what they pay us for.”

  “Fine, fine. But I’ll bet you good money that we see her again within six months.”

  Thomas gave a moment to think about the bet. He had figured that Joe would have given up on these bets by now. Perhaps he shouldn’t be so quick to accept the wager and let his co-worker off the hook. Then again…

  “Ok, fine. You’re on. You go ahead and prep her and I’ll get all of the paperwork going and initiate the download on a flash drive.”

  Epilogue

  Eric looked out of the port window of the landing craft, which was now acting as his shuttle toward the ship that was going to be his home for a short time until they reached Phoebe. The massive structure before him was similar in design to the Harbinger that he had the misfortune of having to know in more detail than he wanted to ever know.

  This craft look like a rectangle barge ship. On top were structures that contained the personal rooms of the main crew, the bridge, the infirmary, the CIC room, and even the mess hall. The bulk of the ship was reserved for storage in its massive cargo bay. If this was similar in design to the Harbinger then the engine rooms would flank the cargo bay. Eric’s only hope was that this ship didn’t run on a singularity drive.

  His eyes turned toward the vastness of space where he was to be departing. That old song seemed to come to him. He could almost remember it. What was it again? Something about how the “...stars look differently today.”

  As his shuttle made its approach toward the cargo ship, the front section started to open. Massive hydraulics started to move the section, opening the massive door to allow ingress into the docking bay and welcomed the newly arriving landing craft.

  The shuttle’s maneuvering thrusters turned on as the main thrusters shut off. Momentum was guided and directed by the lesser engines. A slight pulse from the port and another from starboard slowly guided the shuttle to its resting spot.

  Engines started to shut down. Landing gear was deployed and with a slight jolt the shuttle landed with precision.

  Eric waited for the landing craft to come to a complete stop and continued to wait until all of the engines were powered down before he was given the okay to unbuckle. He knew that the larger ship had to close the bay door and, once it was sealed, they would have to pump the oxygen back in.

  As the engines shut off, their sounds dropped down to a slight dull and low hum before fading away. Hydraulics was initiated across the craft and a release of compressed air could be heard as if the ship was giving a sigh that it had made its journey. The vibrations of the engines, the slight sway of the ship, and the beeps of the electronics were all gone with those last and final sighs of air as if the ship had somehow gone to sleep and had come here to rest.

  Eric had to shake his head at these thoughts. He seemed to be channeling Denise. He had only known her briefly. Had she had that much of an impact on him? He wondered. Now he would never know.

  His legs were still a little wobbly from the flight and his body was still weak from his psych test. His knees buckled and almost failed him as he reached for his duffle bag. A quick recovery and a few moments let him regain his strength and clear his head.

  Eric found the control panel for the door and punched in the commands. Once it was received, the door hissed open and Eric was able to see the interior of the cargo bay of the ship that he had landed on.

  Inside was the same design as the Harbinger. There was enough space for two landing crafts, one of which he was on. The second one was already docked and secured in place. There was also several storage containers bolted to the floor up against the side walls.

  Several crew members moved about the shuttle that Eric had just departed from. They were either in the process of securing it to the docking bay or unloading what was needed for the main ship. However, the bulk of what the shuttle was carrying would stay aboard since it would be needed on the mission to Phoebe.

  Along with the working crew came two individuals that seemed to be more used to command than work. Both had a sturdy frame and a gait that spoke of confidence. Once they had reached Eric, one of them put out his hand.

  “I’m Captain Christopher Stewart and this is Major Thomas, he’s in charge of security aboard ship.”

  Eric shook hands with the captain and then shifted and shook hands with the major. The handshakes were firm, but not too overpowering.

  “Welcome aboard the Star Chaser,” the captain continued. “You must be Eric Langley, the mission’s field security officer. Glad to meet you. We’re expecting you. You are the last to arrive and we weren’t sure if you were going to make it. Some hang up on your psych test I hear.”

  Eric looked at the captain questionably.

  “I’m just kidding,” the captain said as he jokingly slapped Eric on the back. “Come on, I’ll show you to your quarters and then I’ll take you to meet the others that you’ll be joining on the terraforming mission. I’m sure they’re all eager to see you.”

  “I’m just glad to be here,” Eric said as he tossed his duffle bag over his shoulder.

  Eric followed the captain through the landing bay toward the stairs that would take them to the upper levels. He was looking forward to getting underway, away from Earth. Everything else was the furthest from his mind.

  That was until he saw it. There, to his right was a set of containers with the numbers A42213 and A42214. Eric’s stopped in place. His blood felt like ice in his veins. These were the containers in the psych test. These were in someone else’s memories. One of these containers held a secret so horrible that someone was killed to maintain it. Even when General Baker was pressed about them, he had glossed them over as nothing to be concerned about. Yet, here they were.

  “Is everything alright?”

  The captain’s question brought Eric out of his reverie. He couldn’t let on that he knew something about these containers out of fear that something might happen to him. On the other hand, he could wrong about the whole situation and any false accusations could prove that he was no longer a candidate deemed worthy enough to continue on the mission. If there was something in these containers, he would have to prove it first before he accused anyone.

  “Yeah, just a little wobbly from the trip here, that’s all.”

  “Space travel does that to you. Don’t worry, you will get used to it and before long you’ll be on another planet altogether. Everything will be just fine. You’ll see.”

  Eric gave one more look at the containers before continuing to follow the captain. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps everything was going to be just fine. Then again his mind gave pause and had to wonder.

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  The deckhands waited until the captain, major and the last of their last passengers had disappeared beyond the portal leading into the hall of the engine rooms. This would eventually lead the three of them to the stairs that would take them to the upper decks. At this point they would be out of the line of sight. The deckhands were told to wait; this wasn’t for their passengers’ eyes.

  Once they were sure that everyone was gone, the moved upon the shuttle that had just arrived as quickly as they could. Time was of the essence. They needed to move the cargo before any non-essential personnel saw it. With precision and timing of a well oiled machine, of individuals that had done this countless of times, they opened the shuttle’s cargo hold and started to remove the bins that were stored there.

  There were eight bins total, each ab
out seven feet long and a little over two feet wide. Each crate was heavier than it seemed and it took four people to lift each one. In effect, it seemed more like a funeral procession than an unpacking of precious cargo.

  None of the crew members knew what was inside; it was above their pay grade. They were only told to move the cargo as quickly as possible. In reality, they didn’t want to know. There were too many rumors and too many individuals gone missing to spark any form of curiosity. With any luck, they would be able to drop off this “cargo” at whatever destination it was going to and they wouldn’t have to worry about it anymore. The last thing they wanted was to share the same fate as the Harbinger.