Starship Alchemon

by Christopher Hinz

  “Stop abusing her,” Ericho snapped, grabbing Hardy by the collar and shoving him against an equipment rack. “She said no!”

  The science rep looked astonished at being manhandled. He was momentarily at a loss for words.

  “June wants you back in medcenter,” Ericho instructed. He was breathing hard, his rage barely under control. “You have my word she won’t attempt to administer any more drugs without your consent.”

  “Don’t believe him,” Hardy hissed. “Our captain does not have your best interests in mind.”

  “As if you do. You’ve been abusing your authority since–”

  “Stop!” LeaMarsa hollered. “Neither of you have the right to tell me what to do!”

  She’d had enough of everyone trying to manipulate her. A longing took hold, a longing to be away from the Alchemon, away from all the psychic and psychological turbulence that constituted her life. Away from the crew, away from the phantom woman and whatever machinations she intended. None of them understood her, understood what it was like to see the world from such a different perspective.

  She stormed out the door, aware that her desires contained the kernels of suicidal ideation. She suspected that Tomer Donner must have had similar thoughts when faced with his own limited options.

  FROM THE FILES OF LIEUTENANT TOMER DONNER, PANNIS CORP BRIDGE OFFICER

  Eight years, four months and two days into the timeline of my obsession, I’ve finally achieved a breakthrough in my efforts to seek justice for Karl’s murder.

  Tomorrow I leave the solar system for an eighteen-month expedition on the Alchemon. Up until last night, everything about this assignment seemed routine. And then came the first of two momentous surprises.

  One of the investigators I’d hired to look into Renfro Zoobondi’s affairs tracked down and interviewed a Pannis assignor involved in the VP’s latest scheme. It is a scheme with me as the target.

  Zoobondi’s plan had been launched only last week. But the assignor, possessing a personal honor code that left him plagued by guilt, was prompted to reveal the truth. Against the assignor’s better judgment, he’d been ordered to put a powerful psionic aboard the Alchemon. Renfro Zoobondi had pulled strings to make this happen, no doubt as a strike against me. Yet for perhaps the first time in our long battle, I believe the VP has made a mistake. The assignor has been deposed by my attorney and is willing to testify against Zoobondi.

  I’ve always known about my high telepathic rating, that I’m a gifted receptor. I was warned at the start of my career that being around any equally gifted individuals, particularly superluminal projectors or conveyors, could be problematic.

  But even though I encountered a few such individuals over the years, I never noticed anything unusual, and certainly never had a sense of being influenced by them. In fact, like many others, I’d grown skeptical of the whole idea of psychic “science” and began to suspect that many of its practitioners and proponents were exaggerating claims, or worse, were clever frauds.

  But then this morning, while still trying to absorb the exciting news about the assignor coming forward, I received the second surprise.

  I was introduced to LeaMarsa de Host.

  To say that this sullen young woman had an immediate impact on me would be gross understatement. When she walked into the lunar orbit docking bay and, at the urging of Captain Solorzano of the Alchemon, shook my hand, everything changed.

  The instant our palms embraced, the most incredible visions flashed through my head. It was as if I was simultaneously witnessing the multiple tracks of some hypermedia event, as if my mind was a holo display into which the thoughts of others were being projected.

  I saw a strange stick city on some faraway world, crumbling into dust. I saw a blue spherical mass pulsating with life. I saw an elongated skull-like head, a hideous visage boasting a marble-like sensory organ between its mouth and nose. But even more encompassing than the visions was the prescient intuition accompanying them.

  When our hands parted a moment later, LeaMarsa wore a look of bored defiance. I could only stand there with a frozen smile, trying to hide the tremors coursing through my body. I knew at that moment, in a way I could never hope to explain, that my intuition was a dispatch from the future, a signifier of events yet to come.

  The insight was simple. Spending months in close quarters with this woman would drive me insane. I would suffer an irreversible plunge into madness that no psychiatric methodology could circumvent.

  There was no hope of convincing anyone of what I’d just experienced. Any rational person would think I was crazy. Rather ironic, considering that such was exactly the state I’d find myself in should I go on this mission.

  I could withdraw from the voyage, of course. I had reasonable cause. The fledgling study of superluminal compatibility had revealed the potential consequences of confining two people with potent abilities in close proximity for an extended period.

  Yet I was equally aware of corporate realities. Zoobondi had already used his influence to blacklist me from any major starship assignments. And resigning so close to departure wouldn’t look good on my record no matter how valid the reason, and likely would make it even harder to gain future employment in my chosen profession.

  It was a shrewd move by Zoobondi, seemingly a win-win situation for him. If I stayed aboard the Alchemon, I’d be at the mercy of devastating psionic forces driving me insane. If I withdrew, I’d be slamming the door on my career… and possibly even joining the needful majority. I simmered with fresh anger at the sheer gall of this man whom I’d come to hate to the core of my being.

  The only sensible option was to withdraw. I would hand over to Corporeal authorities what evidence investigators and forensics auditors had gathered over the years against Zoobondi, including his embezzling and the brutal fights ending with dead opponents, plus the most damning document, the assignor’s deposition. Together, there was more than enough evidence to launch a Corporeal probe and bring criminal charges against the arrogant bastard.

  Zoobondi was a potent foe and the court system too often warped to benefit the interests of the rich and powerful, so there was no guarantee justice would be served, no guarantee Zoobondi would be sentenced to one of the offworld prisons of US-Them, the penal-institution mega. Still, I was certain it was enough to at least derail his career, make sure he ascended no higher in the Pannis hierarchy. A small victory, but a victory nonetheless.

  With only hours before departure and still mulling over my dilemma, I realized I had another option. I could willingly board the Alchemon, go on a mission in which the end result would be my descent into madness. Such a sacrificial action should bear fruit eighteen months from now. When the vessel returned to the solar system with an insane bridge lieutenant, it would provide strong evidentiary cause-and-effect that Zoobondi’s machinations were responsible. In conjunction with the other evidence, there might just be enough to ensure a criminal conviction.

  Of course, being insane would deprive me of a certain level of gratification when it came to the woes Zoobondi might suffer. And the very idea I was even considering such a course of action suggested that I might already be certifiably mad. But perhaps that was indeed my true state over these past eight-plus years, focused as I’ve been on destroying the man who’d robbed me of the one person I’d loved deeply.

  Yet truth be told, there was another motive for embarking on this course, a motive that I knew in my heart was the real reason. Something else happened to me in that instant when LeaMarsa and I shook hands. I saw something beyond those incredible visions and insight into my fate.

  As if viewed through a heavy veil, I glimpsed a distant universe or dimension, a darkness rich with strange stars, a realm of luminous dark. Perhaps it was a place where my pain and anger over Karl’s death could be lessened, where I might find salvation from the emotional abyss that seemed forever in my path, devouring my hopes and dreams.

  And so I’ve made my decision. Tomorrow, I seal my fa
te as well as the fate of Renfro Zoobondi.

  Tomorrow, I board the starship Alchemon.

  CHAPTER 20

  Ericho entered the medcenter treatment room still smarting from his encounter with Hardy. He watched a ceiling-mounted clinician sweep a pair of tentacle-hands back and forth across Alexei, scanning injuries and formulating treatment strategies. A breathing mask flanked by puffy O2 bladders formed a tight seal over the unconscious trainee’s mouth and nose.

  “How’s he doing?”

  “I’ll know in a sec,” June said, monitoring the clinician’s results on her wafer. “Just confirming my diagnosis.”

  Ericho realized she was following standard protocol by getting a second opinion from the clinician. But considering that Alexei had been nearly beaten to death by a machine, it annoyed him that another machine was performing the exam.

  “Don’t wait for the damn clinician,” he growled, knowing that some of his anger was really meant for the science rep. “Trust your own judgment.”

  “And how are you feeling?”

  “I’ll survive.”

  “Didn’t go well with Hardy, I presume.”

  “You could say that.”

  He drew a deep breath to force calm and excise the violent fantasy churning through him. In it, he was grabbing Hardy by the scruff of the neck and ramming the idiot into a wall until his face was reduced to bloody pulp. He couldn’t recall ever experiencing such rage.

  The clinician finished its scan and used another of its sextet of hands to insert a fresh IV line into Alexei’s wrist.

  “Summarize,” June ordered.

  The machine’s male voice sounded inappropriately serene.

  “Primary injury, traumatic brain damage. Multiple acute subdural hematomas in the frontal and parietal lobes. Increasing pressure from cerebrospinal fluid expansion within the intercranial space. Suctional tri-craniotomy recommended.”

  “Agreed,” June said. “Initiate.”

  “Initiating.”

  The autobed rotated ninety degrees and inched forward to better position Alexei for the surgery. Two of its hands cradled his head to keep it immobile while a third injected a local anesthetic. Hand number four, gripping a Cartesian laser, descended upon the head like an ancient soldier with a drawn bayonet. The laser made a series of right-angled cuts on the top of Alexei’s skull. The final pair of hands gently peeled back skin and bone to access the brain.

  “Other major injuries?” June asked.

  “Left knee, intra-articular tibial fracture. Non-critical. Fusion repair recommended following tri-craniotomy.”

  “Agreed. Initiate when tri-craniotomy complete, pending successful outcome.”

  “Affirmed.”

  The crewdoc continued to monitor the surgery on her wafer as she headed out into the lobby. Ericho followed.

  The outer door opened, admitting Faye.

  “Is he going to make it?” she asked. Her voice quivered, revealing the depth of her concern. “Oh, and feel free to lie to me. I need some good news about now even if it’s not true.”

  “Alexei is stable,” June said, monitoring her wafer. “Assuming no unexpected complications, his prognosis is full recovery.”

  Faye flopped onto a chair and curled into a fetal ball. “What’s happening to us?”

  “We’re facing forces we don’t understand,” Ericho said. “But we’re going to get through it.”

  His words felt hollow. But for morale’s sake it was important to continue projecting optimism.

  June pinned her gaze on Faye. “You look tired. You should get some sleep.”

  “No thanks. Last time I closed my eyes, the nightmare started right away. Pretty much the same one you’ve been having except it’s me and my parents and sisters who get the hot-ice-melt treatment.” She forced a smile even as shudders passed through her. “My current plan is to stay awake forever.”

  “If you find a way to make that work, please share.”

  “Anything new on the natatorium pollution?” Ericho asked.

  Faye sighed. “The more I study it, the less sense it makes. There are biochemical transformations occurring in the water that don’t correlate with anything on record.”

  “Theories?”

  “None that fit the facts. Best hypothesis – and this is pure guesswork – is that for reasons unknown the pool is turning into a giant petri dish, some sort of bizarre cell-culturing medium. Before IBD sealed off the natatorium from the rest of the ship, LSN managed to gather and suck in organisms from all over the place. Protein clusters from the nutriment bath, floral seeds and roots from hydroponics, even waste products from FWP. About the only thing I’ve confirmed is that the mass continues to transform at a rather spectacular rate.”

  “Transform into what?”

  She shrugged.

  “Could these transformations be random?” June asked.

  “I doubt it. But really, I don’t know. Organic transformations of this complexity should be examined by a specialist. Hardy is more knowledgeable, but I can’t even get him to look at my data.”

  “Forget Hardy,” Ericho snapped.

  They were all silent for a moment, lost in individual thoughts. Faye broke the stillness.

  “So, what are we going to do about that thing in the containment?”

  “We have to get it off the ship,” June said. “It’s literally poisoning us. Insanity, rages, nightmares. Who knows what’s next?”

  Ericho came to a decision, tabbed his mike.

  “Rigel, where are you?”

  The tech officer came on speaker. “Mech room. Still disassembling the remains of Alexei’s link.” He paused. “No luck so far in figuring out why it went nuts.”

  “Drop that. You and I are doing the EVA. We’ll blow the inner hatch and purge everything. Meet me at airlock three.”

  He realized there was a real danger of the creature taking some sort of action against them while they were out on the hull. But they had to chance it.

  “Keep working on that pollution,” he instructed Faye. “It can’t be random. There must be purpose behind it, something that makes sense.”

  “Hardy wants me to get back to helping him.”

  “I’m declaring the Alchemon on full emergency status. Under Pannis guidelines, you’re no longer under the authority of the science rep.”

  “Aye aye, cap’n,” Faye said, giving a mock salute.

  Her words triggered a memory from Ericho’s favorite childhood adventure story, Captain Clarke in the Quiets of Doom. Trapped in a transpatial corridor, the intrepid hero’s command of both his ship and crew had inexorably slipped away. Ericho couldn’t recall the details, only that the captain had come up with an unorthodox salvation to save the mission.

  Unorthodox salvation. The words resonated. They seemed somehow germane to the Alchemon’s plight. Before he could consider the matter further, an ominous vibration rose from the floor. It coursed through their bodies for several seconds and then was gone.

  Jonomy appeared on the nearest monitor. “Captain, the tremble was shipwide and was caused by an explosive discharge perpendicular to our line of transit. The fact that we received no advance warning prevented GEN and related systems from making compensatory geonic adjustments in time.”

  “What kind of discharge?” Ericho demanded.

  “The containment was vacuumed.”

  “You found a way to do it.” But even as Ericho uttered the words, he realized the conclusion was wrong.

  “I took no action,” Jonomy affirmed. “The inner and outer seals of the airlock chute were opened simultaneously and the radioactive mass purged. Eleven seconds later, both hatches were sealed again.

  “How could that have happened?”

  “Unknown. Here is the external imagery.”

  The monitor switched to a view from an outside hull camera. A gaseous plume studded with chunks of debris floated off into the void. It was already half a kilometer away and retreating from the hull at a rapid rate
.

  “Sensors analyzed the expulsion. The remains of Bouncy Blue are there. However, Baby Blue was not ejected. And some components of that link robot, the one destroyed by the warrior pup, also were not part of the jetsam.” Jonomy paused. “EPS gives the highest probability that the creature was somehow responsible for the purge.”

  “But why blow the containment? It would be exposing itself to a vacuum that likely would kill it.”

  “Considering the organism’s propensity for surviving in hostile conditions, I would not presume that a vacuum would lead to its demise.”

  “The damn thing can’t be omnipotent. Hell, we all saw that it was breathing. It has lungs similar to ours.”

  “A good point. The robot’s cameras did register inhalation and exhalation at Baby Blue’s birth, if that’s what that event can be called. But remember Hardy’s theory of an energy field that our instruments are not sensitive enough to measure? The creature could possess the same energy field and use it as a shield in harsh environments.”

  “Maybe breathing is optional,” June said. “A physiological capability but not a requirement.”

  Rigel ambled in with a grunt. “So much for our EVA.”

  “For the moment,” Ericho said. “All right, first priority is getting a look inside the containment. We have the same options as before. Either Rigel and I go out there or we send one of the pups.”

  “Considering this latest development, I suggest the latter,” Jonomy said. “Even though we may lose control of the pup, it possibly would remain operational long enough to provide imagery and data from within the containment.”

  “Can you modify the pup, give it a better chance of not being taken over?”

  “I can reprogram its com links to respond only to my direct commands.”

  “Might work,” Rigel said.

  “I will let you know when the pup is ready for egress.”

  Jonomy ended the transmission. The instant the monitor went to black, Rigel withdrew a safepad from his pocket and smacked the disk onto the nearest wall. A faint, low-pitched hum coursed through the medcenter lobby.