by Rachel Aukes
“I’m on and coming to you,” he said as he began to walk in slow, exaggerated steps toward Throttle.
Garrett also used his grav boots to land. He landed with his feet wide, and he struggled to get into a standing position.
“How’re you doing, Garrett? It looks like you’re trying to do the splits over there,” she said.
“It’s probably a bit more information than you need, but my groin muscle’s not too happy right now. Otherwise, I’m good. Heading your way now,” he said.
Once he started walking in her direction, she turned to the panel next to the door. Her team had brought cutting tools, but first she pressed the panel. It lit up and a list of options appeared. A little surprised and very relieved, the options were written in the universal language, which had been the language of Earth’s first colony ships.
“I’m attempting to open the airlock now,” she announced and pressed the option that read Enter airlock without docking.
The panel flashed a message: Airlock will open upon pressure equilibrium. Please be patient.
She frowned at the delay. Most airlock doors opened immediately upon command, and she suspected this door was malfunctioning. She held tight to the bar and glanced over her shoulder to see Finn and Garrett nearby but still walking toward her.
The door opened.
“That’s disappointing,” she said.
“What’s wrong?” Garrett asked. “It’s got power. Been a long time since I’ve been on a ship with automatic doors.”
“Yeah, but there’s no sign of pressure from the airlock. No air burst. My guess is the ship’s environmental systems have already failed.”
“Well, let’s at least hope it’s got some juice for us, or else this little side trip is a bust,” Garrett said.
“Are you sure it’s worth checking out?” came Birk’s voice through her comm.
“We’re here already. Might as well check it out,” she said. “Sylvian, what’s the latest scans read?”
“Nothing new here. No life, no threats,” Sylvian replied.
“All right. Here we go.” She swung herself into the airlock and was pulled solidly to the floor, even though she hadn’t activated her boots yet. She held out a hand to assist with Finn, who then helped Garrett into the pressurization chamber. The three of them inside, Throttle tapped on the next panel and pressed the option Close external door and reset atmospheric pressure.
This time, the outer door closed immediately. The entire airlock vibrated, rattling Throttle’s teeth.
“Whoa, this is weird,” Finn said. “I’ve never had an airlock do this before.”
“Let’s hope it’s not about to blow up,” Garrett said.
“Think positive thoughts,” Throttle reprimanded.
After two or three very long seconds, the vibrations subsided, and the panel flashed a message: Atmospheric pressure achieved. Tap the screen to enter.
“That’s better,” Garrett said. “I can think positive thoughts now, boss.”
She glanced at her suit’s sensors, which confirmed that the air in the airlock was in fact breathable air. She reported into her comm, “Scorpia, we’re inside. Environmentals are looking good so far. We’re entering the ship.”
No response came.
“Scorpia, do you read?” she asked.
When no response came, she eyed her team. “Try to reach them.”
Both tried, and both failed to receive a response.
She sighed. “Whatever that hull’s made out of, it’s blocking our signals. We’re on our own.” She unclipped her rifle and pressed the flashing screen on the wall. “Here we go.”
The interior door opened.
Throttle stood in front but didn’t step into the hallway. She waited, half expecting someone to come at her, but she was greeted only by a dimly lit gray wall. It looked to be of the same material as the hull. A small placard on the wall read Fortes fortuna adiuvat.
“Whatever that means,” Garrett muttered.
While the letters seemed to fit the universal language, the words weren’t familiar. Throttle ignored the sign and took a step forward. Another step. She stepped out of the airlock on her third step, and the lights brightened. She raised her rifle as she peered down the hallway that led to her left and to her right.
“I’m reading all life support functional,” Finn said.
“Same here,” Garrett said.
Throttle glanced at her sensors to confirm. Shouldering her rifle with one arm, she opened her helmet.
“Wait, what if it’s not safe?” Garrett said, but she’d already broken the seal.
She inhaled deeply. The air was warm and surprisingly humid and, most importantly, fresh. The lack of the pungent sweetness of decay relaxed the tension in her shoulders. “The air’s good,” she said.
Garrett took his helmet off first.
Finn watched Throttle take a few more breaths before he removed his and took a full breath. He looked left and right. “Okay, which hallway do you want me to take?”
Throttle shook her head. “I do things differently than what you learned as a drom. On my crew, we always stick together on the first pass through. Basically, if we see something in a horror movie, we do the opposite. Once we finish the first pass, we can split up.”
“Which direction, then?” Finn asked.
She nodded to the right. “The bridge is that way. That’s where we should learn the most about what happened to the ship and crew.” She began heading down the hallway. Some wall panels were missing, as though the ship had been launched before being completed.
Finn caught up. “At least allow me to take point.”
She eyed him and noticed the sincerity in his expression. She relented. “After you.”
They walked a couple of dozen paces before reaching a door. They stopped and stared at it.
“Should we open it?” Garrett asked.
“How?” Finn asked. “There’s no panel.”
Throttle thought for a moment. “Let’s leave it. We should know a lot more about what happened on this ship once we access the bridge systems.”
They continued and reached another closed door on their left. She looked down the long corridor that slightly tapered inward and saw three more doors, all evenly spaced. “My guess is these are the crew quarters,” she said and motioned at Finn to keep walking.
“Even though it has life support, it seems more like a drone,” Finn said. “I mean, look at the floor. Look at the walls. There’s not even a scratch from a rolling cart anywhere.”
“Maybe it was sent on a test run without a crew,” Garrett said.
A heavier looking door stood at the apex of the corridor just before it curved around the other side of the ship.
“I’d lay bets on that being the bridge,” Throttle said and walked up to the panel next to the door, or at least it was where the control panel should have been located. Instead, all that remained was an open hole in the wall.
“It looks like they never got around to installing the panel,” Garrett said.
Throttle glanced over her shoulder. “That means we’ll have to cut through the door.”
Garrett went down on a knee, unslung his backpack, and pulled out a laser cutter.
The bridge door opened.
Throttle’s jaw slackened.
Garrett stood.
“That’s…odd,” Finn said.
“Maybe it’s an automatic door, and the sensors are just really delayed,” Garrett offered.
“Maybe,” Throttle said, doubtful. She took a cautious step through the doorway and onto the bridge. The lights brightened. Nothing else had changed from when she’d seen it from the outside.
She sensed Finn and Garrett come up on either side of her.
The door closed behind them. Garrett sprang around to open it. Finn raised his gun. Throttle stared at all the workstation screens coming online.
“Welcome aboard, travelers.”
Chapter Four
Thrott
le, Garrett, and Finn shot quick glances around the bridge and to one another.
“Who’s speaking?” Throttle asked.
The smooth voice with a lilt of brogue came through the bridge speakers. “I’m the central command system of galactic exploration vessel SR9104-73, Captain Halit Reyne.”
Garrett blew out a breath. “For a second there, I thought someone else was on board with us. The bridge must have motion sensors that launched the main computer.”
Her eyes narrowed. “How do you know my name?”
“Standard exploratory protocol. I accessed your onboard systems when you came within my proximity so I could ascertain danger to me as well as to analyze any life encountered for risks and benefits to colonization efforts.”
Her frown deepened. She didn’t like that her ship’s systems could be so easily accessed. If this ship had a crew with less than honorable motives… “What happened to your crew?” she asked.
“That data is missing from my memory. I believe I was designed to operate with or without a crew.”
“It’s a drone,” Finn said. “Just an advanced drone.”
“Where were you manufactured?” Throttle asked.
“That data is missing.”
“Where did you originate?” she asked.
“That data is missing.”
“What happened that caused you to end up floating here in the middle of nowhere?” she asked.
“That data is missing.”
She blew out a breath. “C’mon, Rusty. A little help here.”
“Why did you call me Rusty?”
“Because it’s easier than calling you an old rusted bucket of shit, which is what you’re being. Now, give me something.”
“I believe I suffered a catastrophic failure. My mnemonic system was destroyed along with other systems crucial to my mission.”
“And exactly what is your mission?”
“Nearly all my memory data is missing or corrupted. Based on my current location and the little remaining uncorrupted data that I can access, I believe that my mission is to identify feasible quadrants for travel routes and colonization.”
“A survey drone,” Finn said.
“And from which star system would these travel routes originate?” she asked.
“I don’t know, but I do know the Sol system is currently the primary source of interstellar colonization activities across systems in this area.”
“Sol? That would explain why this ship looks nothing like ones we’ve seen before,” Garrett said.
Finn shook his head. “But Sol is Earth’s system. Their star went red hundreds of years ago. All life was wiped out. Nothing should be coming out of that system.”
“You’re wrong, Ensign Finnegan Martin. The Sol star is a mature dwarf star with an estimated five point four billion years remaining before it expands into a red giant.”
Finn eyed Throttle and spoke softly. “‘Martin’ isn’t the name on the credentials I used to board the Gabriela.”
“Is ‘Martin’ incorrect?” Rusty asked.
Finn frowned. “No, it’s right. I just want to know how you got it.”
“Your credentials in the ship’s log contradicts the data in the communication device you wear on your forearm. I determined that the information you wore had the higher likelihood of accuracy.”
Throttle turned to the ship, staring at a speaker since she didn’t know where else to look. “You sound like you’re functioning just fine. What’s keeping you from flying out of here?”
“I have many minor systems missing or incomplete, but I have two crucial systems damaged beyond my ability to repair, which prohibit me from functioning properly.”
“What systems are those?” she asked.
“I am missing my communication matrix and my navigational quadriscope. All other systems have been rebuilt and are functioning at minimum operational parameters. I’ve reconstructed my linguistics routines from radio waves my sensors pick up. However, with most of my data and protocols missing, my systems are not operating at optimal performance.”
“Do you know what caused your cat fail?” Finn asked.
“I don’t know, Finn. If I were to guess, an event occurred where a denser object collided with my hull, which knocked me offline and destroyed much of my structure.”
“Then why doesn’t your hull show signs of any damage?” Throttle asked.
“After coming back online, I required extensive repairs, which consumed two hundred and eighty-three years. Only one of my reno-bots survived the event, and it was severely damaged. My bot spent seven decades replicating itself so that I could begin the recovery of material and rebuild myself. Substantial reduction and reconfiguration were necessary due to significant loss of material after the event. All my systems are now operating at minimum acceptable parameters with the exception of the communication and navigation systems.”
“If only the Gabriela had some of this tech,” Garrett said quietly.
“Are your jump drives operational?” Throttle asked.
“Yes, Captain Reyne,” Rusty replied.
“How much juice do you have?” she continued.
“My jump engine leverages solar energy and does not require helium fuel, unlike your ship. There’s no limit to the number of jumps made, however, between jumps, my solar array must recharge.”
Throttle looked to Garrett and Finn to see hope in their expressions. She turned back to the ship. “Rusty, I thought I saw a cargo hold in the belly. Is it big enough to hold the Scorpia?”
“Yes, though the gunship will take up the entire space available. The hold can be pressurized as well if you’d find that convenient.”
“I would. Prepare to accept the Scorpia,” she said, and turned back to her crew. “I want you both to head back to the Scorpia and have her dock in the cargo hold. We’ll have Eddy and Sylvian take a look to see if we can’t get Rusty’s systems up and running.”
“You’re staying?”
She nodded. “I want to get my hands on Rusty’s systems and see what we’ve got to work with.”
The bridge door opened, and the pair departed. After they left, the door closed, giving her a sudden feeling of being cut off from her crew.
“Rusty, leave the bridge door open,” Throttle ordered.
The door opened.
She walked to the captain’s chair, ran her hand over the smooth surface, and took a seat. It was hard, with no cushion, but seemed to hold her comfortably even though she had no sensation below the hips. She brushed a hand over the panel. The screen didn’t change.
“Captain Reyne, you’re not authorized to access my systems,” Rusty said.
“It’s Throttle. Reyne was my dad’s name. How do I get authorization?”
“I don’t know that protocol. That data is corrupted, Throttle.”
She sighed. “Rusty, you’ve been floating out here for three hundred years. If you ever had a crew, they’re long gone. It’s safe to say you’ve been written off whatever corporate book you were on. That makes this ship abandoned property. Under Collective law, I’m taking ownership, and I need full access to all systems so we can see about getting you flying again. Welcome to my fleet. Enter my credentials into your system as owner and captain.”
A brief pause. “You now have comprehensive access to my systems, Throttle.”
Throttle ran her hand over the panel again. This time, a menu of options appeared, and she began running scans on the ship’s capabilities and accoutrements. She read as the lists of data populated. “Six nav engines. Nice. One jump engine. Good. No solar sails. Why no sails, Rusty?”
“I utilize navigational engines when traveling at sub-speed.”
“And let me guess, the nav engines run off rechargeable batteries, too,” Throttle mused.
“The term ‘battery’ is not accurate. My hull absorbs solar energy and directs it to the engines and other systems.”
“Ah, so the hull is just a big solar array. I’ve seen a few ships li
ke that before. That would explain why I didn’t see any solar panels hanging off the hull.” She continued through the lists, fingers brushing over many items. She paused after a moment. “No guns?”
“I’m an exploratory vessel. I imagine weapons aren’t necessary for my mission. Also, I didn’t find any remnants of weaponry in the debris field.”
She chuckled. “You’ve obviously never been through the Trappist system if you think guns aren’t necessary.” She kept reading through the inventory. “I’m showing a galley and five cabins. How many bunks in each cabin?”
“Each cabin is bare. I suspect that any beds and other soft material were lost in the event.”
“You’ve got space for the crew. That’s what counts.” Her eyebrows furrowed. “Wait a second. If the event breached your hull, how is it that you have atmosphere?”
“Once structural integrity was restored and environmental systems were rebuilt, I dispensed my reno-bots to nearby asteroids to gather necessary elements to recreate an atmosphere.”
“But you can fly without a crew.”
“Environmental stability seemed important since cabins and a bridge were part of my original design.”
She leaned back in her seat. “Wait a second. You said your nav system is down. How were you able to send your bots out?”
“I extrapolated their trajectory based on a scan I’ve made of this entire quadrant.”
“Quadrant?” It was a term she’d never used in space flight before. “How many sectors are in a quadrant?”
“Twelve point two seven sectors are in a quadrant.”
“Why didn’t you fly as far as your scans allowed, then scan the next quadrant, and so on?”
“I’m missing flight protocols.”
“Sylvian’s got some work laid out for her. Got it,” she said under her breath and continued her scans.
By the time the Scorpia docked, Throttle had a decent handle on the ship’s capabilities. The technology was far more advanced, which didn’t surprise her. Collective technology had not advanced much in the nine hundred years after it colonized the Trappist system. Earth, on the other hand, had evidently kept advancing.