by CJ Williams
Galleon
By CJ Williams
Copyright © 1995, 2018 by CJ Williams
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Any reference to actual names, characters, places, companies, products or incidents is either coincidental, fictitious or used fictitiously.
English Language Edition
ISBN-13: 978-1718665804
ISBN-10: 1718665806
To Jeannie
1 – Malfunction
“Eternity. It is the sea mingled with the sun.”
(Arthur Rimbaud, “A Season in Hell”)
It was fortunate they repeated the warnings on the cruise liner’s intercom or Gus would have slept through the disaster. Even then, the raucous noise crept into his dreams as the sound of heavy traffic in the city, trying to make him think everything was all right. But somewhere in the back of his mind, his subconscious decided a klaxon needed investigation. Gus woke up to a woman’s urgent voice filtering under the door of his standard-class berth on the space liner Solar Princess.
“…is not a drill. All passengers report to your assigned lifeboat. Avoid areas around the main cargo bay. There is a fire in the main cargo bay. We show there are still six thousand people on board.”
That got his attention. The ship had left Earth for Wheelers Bright with twenty thousand passengers and crew. It sounded like the evacuation was almost complete.
Even worse, the steady background thrum of the engines was missing. That meant they were dead in space. He rolled over to wake up his wife.
“Carol,” he said. “Get up. We gotta—”
Oh yeah, he was alone on this trip. At the last minute, she had stayed behind with their granddaughter. The damn fool girl had broken her leg on a camping weekend, and her mom was in Italy doctoring survivors of the big earthquake.
Carol insisted that she had to stay with Grace. Gus pointed out the girl was a college graduate, had a job, and could take care of herself but it was wasted breath. Their granddaughter meant everything to his wife.
Gus offered to stay behind too, but Carol urged him to go without her. She said if he didn’t go now, it might never happen. It was the truth and Gus knew it. He had been preparing for the trip since he’d retired three years ago.
His lifelong dream was for him and Carol to get their own vessel and set off on a star cruise. Just the two of them, not having to mess with the crowds, baggage X-rays, and body searches that go with commercial space travel. They would take off whenever they wanted and visit the thirty-seven human-occupied worlds without worrying about schedules.
The sole reason for his going to Wheelers Bright was to purchase an old space yacht he had found online. It had dual engines and was big enough for four people; plenty of space for him and Carol.
True, the term yacht was a bit euphemistic for the boat he planned to buy, but this particular vessel had extra meaning. He’d helped build it when he was just starting out as a shipwright, a long time ago.
The seller promised the ship was sound, and Gus had studied the photos with a magnifying glass. He wasn’t naïve enough to believe there weren’t any problems but was comfortable that he could put right any discrepancies. He’d worked in shipyards all his life, and there wasn’t much he couldn’t handle from space drives to environmental.
And Carol was correct. In the Wheelers Bright frontier market, it wouldn’t take long for someone to snap up a space-worthy yacht. The population on the planet was exploding, especially now. Ever since researchers had unearthed the alien ruins known as the Acevedos Temple, the place was growing like mad.
For the first time, mankind had proof of an extraterrestrial race. The realization generated fear and excitement. Gus thought it was cool. Scientists had dated the ruins as at least fifteen thousand years old, so it wasn’t like they were a threat. Gus planned to visit the site before he returned to Earth.
But all that was for another day. Just now, he needed to get moving.
The woman’s voice came back with new information. “Passengers should avoid the engineering section and cargo bay areas. I have reports the fire has spread to engineering. Abandon ship; this is not a drill. I still show three thousand people remaining on board.”
Gus finished pulling on his clothes and put his arms through the straps of his backpack. He thumbed open his cabin door to an empty corridor. His assigned lifeboat station was down the passageway to the left, up three levels and then right to deckway twelve. He had paid careful attention during the mandatory safety briefings and even sought out the deckway soon after they left Earth.
The ship convulsed as something deep inside cooked off. This time a male AI voice made the announcement. The female steward was probably already on a lifeboat. “Fire detected in Environmental. All personnel abandon ship. Two thousand souls remaining on board.”
In the corridor windows, the stars, bright pinpoints of light, suddenly elongated into streaks of colored lights. The cruiser had kicked into lightspeed. No one would give that command in the middle of an evacuation. The fire must have shorted out the control systems. He ran past the bank of elevators to a stairwell and charged up three steps at a time to level eight.
“Fires detected on decks three through fifteen. Hull breach reported on decks four, seven, and twelve. All personnel abandon ship. Three hundred souls remaining on board.”
“Hang on!” Gus shouted. “I’m coming!”
The space liner was emptying faster than he expected. It wouldn’t do to get left behind. He took the right-hand passageway and jogged down it until he reached evacuation deckway number twelve, a wide-open area where the lifeboat modules were located.
It wasn’t like the deck of an old-fashioned, ocean-going cruise liner. Instead, it resembled the lobby of an office building with a long line of elevators. Except that the deckway was empty and all the lifeboats had launched.
“All personnel abandon ship. Life support systems failing. Seventy-three souls remaining on board. Proceed to the nearest lifeboat.”
In the next section forward, lifeboats were still launching from deckway eleven and Gus took off at a dead run. He got held up going through the bulkhead where someone had dogged the hatch closed. It took precious minutes, but he got it open just in time to see the last few people jam into a lifeboat. The access hatch slammed down and the module ejected.
“Twelve souls remaining on board.”
A single evacuation capsule remained, the access hatch open and waiting. Gus hurried toward it. Once inside, long benches lined the sides with window ports above them. A large red button labeled Launch was mounted on the interior bulkhead next to the entry hatch. Gus poked his head out and looked both ways down the deckway. It was empty, but he didn’t feel comfortable launching the last lifeboat if people were coming.
“Four souls remaining on board.”
He was a fool to keep waiting. The ship could go up in one final explosion.
“Anyone out there?” Gus shouted.
The Solar Princess AI said, “One soul remaining on board.”
Gus hit the Launch button about six times in rapid succession. The hatch slid down and the interior door irised closed. Explosive bolts separated the lifeboat from the space liner and its rocket motor fired.
A display panel forward of the cabin illuminated and a computer voice intoned, “Emergency ejection sequence detected. Please stand by while onboard systems are initiated.”
Gus scrambled to the two crew positions for pilot and co-pilot. The pilot’s console had a standard instrument layout but no actual flight controls. Most of the instruments remained dark.
“Computer, where are we?” Gus asked, sitting down in the pilot’s seat.
“Please stand by while onboard systems are initiated,” the computer repeated.
“Thank God for that,” Gus said aloud. The idea of being stranded somewhere between stars was not attractive.
The artificial voice returned, “Lifeboat Nineteen is now online. I detect a single occupant, Mr. Alphonsus Cartwright. Please confirm.”
“That’s correct,” Gus replied. “I’m the only one here. Just call me Gus.”
The computer mulled over his words for a moment. “Identity confirmed. You are not a member of the crew. Are you prepared to assume command duties?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Acknowledged. Command authority transferred to passenger…Gus. What are your orders?”
“What are my options?” Gus asked. “Can you take me back to Earth?”
“Negative. My flight capability is limited to making a onetime planetary landing.”
“Can you let people know we are here? Like, send a mayday call?”
“Affirmative. This unit maintains a subspace beacon. Do you wish to activate our emergency transponder?”
“Absolutely!” Gus said with relief.
“Stand by,” Lifeboat Nineteen said. A second later it added, “Correction. My transponder is inoperative at this time.”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“Unknown.”
Damn. Until that instant, Gus assumed he would only be in the lifeboat for a few days until the rescue folks showed up.
“Where are we?” he asked.
“Unknown. My sextant and stellar detection systems are part of the emergency transponder module and are inoperative at this time.”
Gus fumed at the news. That meant he might be out here for weeks if not longer. “What other systems are down?”
“None at this time. I have initiated a full diagnostic check. Standby for results…flight operation diagnostics show complete functionality.”
“Do you have the necessary equipment to land us on a planet? Speaking of which, are there any habitable planets in the solar system ahead?”
“Onboard scanners have determined this system contains a G-type yellow star. There is a planet with two moons at approximately one astronomical unit from the primary. That often indicates a life-sustaining environment.”
“Can you land us on it?”
“If that is your order, then yes, I can attempt a landing.”
Gus didn’t like the sound of attempt. “All right,” Gus said. “But I want a situation update before we start down. When will that be?”
“Acknowledged. I shall advise you about possible landing sites prior to atmospheric penetration. I estimate our arrival overhead the second planet at an orbital speed in approximately five days.”
“Good enough. I’ll work on your transponder later, but in the meantime, does your subspace transceiver work?” If the lifeboat had faster-than-light communication back to Earth, it would allow authorities to establish his location.
“Affirmative. However, without a location system functioning, I can only transmit in the blind. Without location information, two-way subspace communication is impossible.”
“Crap!” Gus exclaimed in frustration. They couldn’t rescue him if they didn’t know where he was.
“Conversely,” Nineteen said, “my local transceiver systems are in working order. In that regard, I have established contact with an artificial intelligence on the planet ahead.”
“You what?” Gus exclaimed. “Someone is there? That is an inhabited planet?”
“Negative,” Nineteen replied. “It is a single transmitter and appears to be the only source of electromagnetic emissions in this system. Based on communication thus far, I suspect it is of alien origin.”
“Alien? You mean like the Acevedos?”
“Unknown. At the moment I have only established a handshaking protocol with the entity.”
“What’s it doing there, then? Did it tell you?”
“I am unable to inquire. If you wish me to proceed further, I will have to provide it with access to my data storage system. If it is a sufficiently advanced entity, that may enable it to communicate in English.”
“Would that create a risk of corrupting your own system? Any chance of that?”
“Negative. My programming is hard-coded into the CPU and cannot be altered by an external source.”
“All right,” Gus said. “Talk to it. Maybe it knows where we are. How long will it take?”
“The transfer will occur over standard radio frequencies, so the speed of light is a significant factor. I estimate the download will require several days. Shall I commence?”
“Will it interfere with your existing subspace comm?”
“Negative. Interaction with the alien entity will not affect my subspace capability.”
“Good enough. In that case, I want to send a message to my YouTube channel and let my wife know I’m alive. My granddaughter set up the account before I left; kind of a travel blog thing. I’ve been sending updates every day since I left. Is that something you can do?”
“Affirmative. That is a frequently requested service by passengers. This lifeboat has two cameras installed, one for the passenger bay and one for the pilot in command. You can begin recording at any time. Once sent, the video message will normally be available on Earth within one or two hours.”
“All right then. Here is my login information.” Gus recited the carefully memorized information that his granddaughter had provided. “Do you know what to do with that?”
“Affirmative. I am, as are all lifeboats, a subset of the Solar Princess’s primary artificial intelligence system. My goal is to ensure you have a safe and pleasant journey.”
“Right,” Gus said. “Let’s skip the marketing material from here on.”
“Your notification preferences have been updated. I can record videos whenever you like and transmit them to your channel, but they would be unedited.”
“That’s okay, I’m not much use in that department. Since you know how to handle it, let’s do one now.”
“Understood. Please be advised that lifeboat protocol limits passengers’ personal message transmissions to three times daily for a maximum of fifteen minutes.”
“Fifteen minutes works for me. You ready to do the first one?”
“Ready.”
“Okay. Here goes.” Gus composed himself and tried to look unconcerned. “Hey, honey. First thing is, I’m fine. The Solar Princess had some problems, but I got off okay. I’m in a lifeboat on my own, and that’s not such a bad thing. You know I hate crowds, and I’d go nuts if this bucket was full of crying passengers. I guess the worst part is that I left my glasses on the nightstand. Anyway, what happened was, I was asleep in my cabin…”
*.*.*.*
Jim Dorsey worked as a console operator at the Inter-Global Distress and Safety Systems (IGDSS), a government agency which continuously monitored potential interstellar distress beacons. Today he wanted to get off work early.
“Stephanie, I tried to change the appointment,” he told his shift supervisor. “But it…”
Stephanie cut him off and pointed at his screen. “What’s that?” she asked. “Looks like you got something.”
“Huh?” Dorsey swiveled back to his workstation. “Let’s see. Yeah, you’re right. Lifeboat 301 from the Solar Princess. That sounds familiar.”
“It’s a cruise liner for Star Group Spacelines,” Stephanie said.
“Looks like one of their lifeboats popped a beacon,” Jim suggested.
“I’m not surprised,” Stephanie said. “I heard the company got hit with a big fine recently for lax equipment inspections. Idiots. Wait, what’s that?”
A second identifier popped up on the screen, followed by three more in close succession. Then another dozen appeared.
“That’s not good,” Jim said.
“You’re not going anywhere today,” Stephanie s
aid grimly. “Get out your checklist. I’ll inform the director.”
*.*.*.*
Kent Blankenship, newscast director for GBN’s popular morning show, Russell and Cassie, scanned the tablet. One of the news managers had just rushed it into the Studio 37 control room. “No one else has this?” Kent asked, a little surprised but also pleased. Any chance to scoop the major networks was a big win. In his mind, it proved GBN was a credible presence in the New York market.
“Not for the next couple of minutes,” the news manager said. “We have it from two sources, and the networks haven’t mentioned it so far.”
“There’s not a lot here,” Kent said. “Just that some transponders went off.”
“About fifty of them! It’s enough to report. Something obviously happened. Charlie is calling Singleton right now.”
Retired Colonel Matthew Singleton was GBN’s expert commentary guest for all things military or space related.
“Okay, tell me when he’s ready.” Kent pushed the console button connecting him with Russell Kline, the show’s namesake and anchor. “Russ, breaking news coming in. The cruise liner Solar Princess may, repeat may be in trouble. IGDSS just recorded fifty emergency transponders registered to the ship. We’ll have background on the prompter by the end of the commercial.”
“Got it,” Russell said. His co-host, the cute Cassie Weaver, gave a slight nod. She was on the same earpiece feed as Russell.
“Lead with breaking news,” Kent said. “Singleton should be with us in a minute.”
Kent’s assistant director, Todd, sitting to his left held up a warning finger. “Thirty seconds,” he said.
“Cue camera one,” Kent directed.
Sam Kirby, the studio floor manager, scanned the large anchor desk one more time. All the coffee cups and water bottles were safely out of harm’s way but still within reach.
Their guest for the next segment was Katelynn Santos, a reporter for the New York Times. She was here to discuss a scandal behind the upcoming opening of the Goodwin Center in Tribeca.
Katelynn was excellent on-screen. Beautiful and articulate, she had a natural humor that made people smile. Not a surprise that she was a frequent visitor.