CHAPTER 5
Cold. Dark. Is that light? Why is it so cold? Why can’t I move?
Merciful sleep.
What? Where am I? It’s so cold. Are my hands tied? Why are my hands tied? The light is too bright. Why am I here? Where is here?
Calm down. Rest. Think.
Voices. I hear voices. I don’t understand them. They aren’t speaking the dialect. Where am I? Am I a captive? How long has it been? Don’t let them know I am awake.
More sleep.
* * *
“I will not allow it to set foot on the planet. Period. The discussion is over.”
Charles Jesus was once again descending into frustration at the obstinance of his Fintidierian counterpart, Secretary General Arctinier. They had been discussing the matter of finding a living Atlantean and what to do with her—it, according to Arctinier. Once the cryobed was opened, the naked body of the occupant made it very clear that what they had thought was a “he” when peering through the frosted lid was actually a she. Of the sixteen cryobeds the crew of the Samaritan found on c Prime’s innermost moon, only one, the one that had been in the bed emitting an orange glow, appeared to be still alive. Unfortunately, the other living one died before the medical team from the Samaritan could get their life-saving equipment in place. The survivor, who, after examination, was determined to be fully human with what appeared to be Native American ancestry, was now safely in the Samaritan’s infirmary under strict quarantine protocol. She had not awakened after passing out, presumably due to the low atmospheric pressure to which she was subjected while awaiting rescue. But she was very much alive, with her brain waves indicating she was in a very deep sleep—and dreaming.
In addition to her apparent Native American ancestry, the detailed examination provided by Mak and his team uncovered that her body was heavily augmented in much the same way that was projected to shortly be the norm on Earth. There were implants in her eyes, at various points in her brain, within her skeletal structure, and alongside several of her internal organs. Mak and his team were completely unable to determine the purpose of the augmentations. Theories ranged from they were needed to keep her alive on Proxima b to suggestions she was modified to be a weapon. It was because of the latter possibility that Captain Crosby had her physically restrained and under continuous guard by two from Rialto’s security team.
The ship was back in a low orbit around Proxima b and, according to Mak, it was only a matter of time before their guest became conscious. So far, the medical facilities aboard the Samaritan, which were extremely well equipped given the nature of their mission, had failed to detect any sort of pathogens on or in the sleeping Atlantean. For this reason, Crosby proposed, and Jesus agreed, that the Atlantean should be brought planetside and placed in a secure facility there until they could communicate with her and determine her intentions. Arctinier most emphatically did not agree.
It had been nearly two months since the alien base had been found and the team led by Drs. Shavers and Vulpetti made their astounding discovery. The news spread rapidly and soon thereafter there emerged two opposing political camps, both vying to have their views guide any next steps. The first group, which the Earth humans supported, called for immediate autopsies of the dead Atlanteans to find out more about them and, hopefully, gain insight into the still-worsening fertility plague. Maybe there was a biological connection between the ancient Atlanteans and the plague that could be uncovered using the Earth’s vastly superior biological science capabilities. This was the side that Jesus hoped would hold sway. The other, which he now knew had the support of Secretary General Arctinier, was that the dead Atlanteans—and the living one—were simply too risky to even study and must simply be destroyed. In the case of the living one, executed.
“Secretary General Arctinier, we came here to help find the cause, and hopefully a cure, for your fertility crisis. Studying these people may result in the breakthrough we need to accomplish that goal. With regard to a biological examination of the dead Atlanteans, we are already well underway, and I consider making that decision to have been fully within my prevue. I will agree to not allow their bodies to be brought to the surface and that all of my crew be thoroughly checked and rechecked to make sure that no pathogens are transferred from our ancient friends to you or the rest of my crew,” Jesus said.
“Given your obvious superiority, I must reluctantly acquiesce on that point,” she muttered.
Her mentioning the Terrans’ superiority, in Jesus’s opinion, was borderline insulting. In one short year, she’d gone from being thankful to have more technologically advanced help to resenting it. Not a good trend. Jesus made a mental note to bring up this growing resentment in the next all-hands meeting to see if others were experiencing anything similar in their interactions with the locals.
“But on the other, I will not give. The alien must never be allowed to come here. The risk is too great,” she said.
Jesus sat impassively, try to not show a reaction of any sort. Internally, he was steaming.
* * *
I’m alive! How long has it been? Where am I? And of what family are these voices that I cannot understand? Where are the rest of the rest of my family?
Rakwar Frawka, Guardian of the Leader, slowly opened her eyes—but only slightly. She did not want her captors—and captors they were (why else would they have her restrained?)—to know she was awake. The bright lights were at first unbearable. Intellectually, she knew she had been asleep and in darkness for a long time, making her eyes overly sensitive to even normal light levels, but the brightness and inner fear of being blinded almost overrode her intellect. Almost. She closed her eyes and instead activated her augmentations.
She could now hear not only the conversation taking place between the two people in the room with her, but also those in the next room and, from what she could tell, passersby in the corridor. The hum of the electronics all around her made her realize she was either the captive of some unknown race, definitely not The People, or she had been in cryosleep for a long, long time. When she left Proxima b, the primitives were far from having a technological culture themselves.
Her radiation scan turned up the usual visible and radio frequency emissions, but also the telltale low-level gamma-ray and neutron signatures of a fusion power system. There was also the background radiation emissions characteristic of Proxima Centauri, the star around which she had spent most of her adult life in service to The People.
She then performed a self-diagnostic and was surprised to learn that none of her body augmentations had been disabled. Were her captors truly ignorant of what that meant? That these restraints would do no more to hold her than were they not even present? She was at first surprised that she was not hungry, then she realized that the tubes connected to her body must have been providing nourishment while she recovered from cryosleep. There were no traces of any foreign substances in her bloodstream, so it was clear that they had not yet tried to interrogate or torture her.
She had to get free, make contact with The People, and warn them that some primitives, likely very dangerous primitives, were nearby and had defiled one or more of their facilities at Proxima Centauri. In the years since The People had been expanding their domain from star to star, they had never encountered others with a level of technology even close to their own. The threat was obvious. She had to warn them.
Calmly calling upon years of training, she took a deep breath and triggered the rapid release of epinephrine into her bloodstream, increasing her pulse rate and blood pressure and her lung’s oxygen processing capabilities, and then activated the cascade of hormonal responses to flood her system with cortisol, allowing her enhanced musculature to respond at its full capability. Barely two seconds later, she was off the table and began neutralizing the threats in the room with her.
* * *
“Mak, she’s got to wake up eventually. There’s no good physiological reason for her to still be unconscious. She’s not in a coma, her brain activity suggests she’s sleeping. Based on her brain activity, we thought she might be waking up a few hours ago, but it was only transient. Since then, only a few blips, the most recent being just a few minutes ago. She might be waking up and then going back to sleep, cycling between the two,” Dr. Sindi Thomaskutty said, one of the many medical specialists who had come to Proxima b with Mak and the rest of the Samaritan’s medical team.
Mak and Thomaskutty had been pouring over the physiological data they’d collected from their Atlantean patient since she arrived in the ship’s infirmary. As it became clear that she was one hundred percent human and not some alien where the services of a veterinarian might be more useful than a physician, their task became easier. As they had learned from gene sequencing that the Fintidierians were of human ancestry, with ancestors likely from somewhere in East Asia fifty thousand years ago, so too was their Atlantean, but with ancestry that suggested she, or they, came from Earth much more recently, perhaps only ten thousand years ago, likely from somewhere in the Americas.
And then there were the curious physical changes resulting from her many surgical implants. The embedded electronics in multiple regions of her brain, ears, eyes, hands, legs, and feet. The latter with connections to her brain running there in parallel with her spine and spinal cord. What appeared to be tiny servomotors were implanted at many of her joints, suggesting they were there to augment her physical strength and, perhaps, response times. Curiously, unlike what had been happening on Earth with the advent of the genetic engineering revolution, there was no indication in her genome that she was similarly modified. Of course, the technology the Atlanteans used to perform genetic engineering might be so much more advanced than Earth’s that the Samaritan’s equipment simply could not discern that it had been done. The augmentations were a wild card that Mak didn’t like. He was not exactly the paranoid sort, but it was beginning to look like their guest had some capabilities beyond the typical human and that could be a problem.
“The tox screens are still clear?” asked Mak, referring to the many toxicological tests they had performed to determine if their Atlantean guest carried any pathogens or contaminants that could endanger the crew of the Samaritan or the people of Proxima b. After seeing the ruins on Misropos and accepting the theory that some sort of disease or condition caused the Atlanteans to die off in the planet’s ancient history they’d become a bit paranoid. Understandably so.
“Completely clear. Based on the data, she can come out of the isolation tent anytime. She is as healthy, or healthier, than you or me,” replied Thomaskutty.
Bang! Snap!
Mak glanced toward the isolation tent containing the Atlantean, the source of the noise, and had his growing fears confirmed as he saw her rise from the table, snapping the arm and leg restraints like they were not even there and tear through the side of the isolation tent like the proverbial knife through butter. He started to shout and alert the two security guards outside the door but he never had the chance as the naked Amazon lunged through the air like an acrobat in complete control of her body in microgravity. As she closed the distance at the last moment she rolled over and kicked him in the upper chest, just below his windpipe, knocking him across the room, incapacitated. Thomaskutty was not so lucky, the single kick that began with Mak sliced sideways and caught the shorter doctor on the side of her neck, causing it to make a sickening snapping sound as she crumpled and drifted into a lifeless spin from the momentum of the kick.
Mak took in a deep breath and immediately regretted it. He undoubtedly had multiple broken ribs and perhaps a collapsed lung. He hurt and could taste blood. The pain was excruciating, and he struggled to remain conscious long enough to see what their “visitor” was now up to.
The Atlantean made a beeline for the computer interface and after studying it momentarily, she steadied herself into place with her left hand and gave it a fast and vicious punch with her right that loosened it enough for her to pull the cover completely off. After sorting through the various wires and fibers in the console, she apparently found what she was looking for and pulled a small bundle of fiber-optic cables from within and grasped it firmly in her right hand. As she did so, she tilted her head upward and froze.
* * *
Guardian of the Leader took little pleasure in incapacitating her captors, knowing that the ones she attacked were not likely among those in charge and were simple healers. She had no personal quarrel with them, but as part of whatever group had found her and were now holding her against her will, they were expendable and a threat that had to be neutralized. It felt good to be moving and the thrill of executing a killing blow, even against untrained opponents, invigorated her.
Quickly assessing the technological level of her captors, she knew where she had to go to achieve her most urgent goal. She found it relatively easy to remove the viewscreen and access the electronics and optronics below. Using the sensors embedded in her fingers, she quickly tapped into the data flowing through the wires and fiber optics running through the console. Most were routing simple, unencrypted information concerning the health and status of various ship systems and those in the medical bay in which she found herself. As she allowed her consciousness to tap into the data flow and visualize it, the relative rate at which time passed around her physical body seemed to slow to a mere trickle. Looking around the data flowing through their systems all around her, she had to resist the urge to follow every thread, especially those that ran into the ship’s core data storage hub in which she was sure she could find out more about the humans that surrounded her, their history, and their motivations. There might be time for that later. For now, she was looking for something much more specific. There. She found it. Now all she had to do was make a few tweaks to its command-and-control algorithms and then her immediate mission would be accomplished. Finally! All was now ready. Guardian of the Leader briefly paused before executing the software sequence she had just crafted. In the time it took for her body to draw another breath, she thought about what she had discovered while scanning their systems. The spacecraft in which she found herself had originated in another star system and was not crewed by descendants of those she knew from Proxima b. Fusion power. Photon propulsion. While primitive compared to her own technological level, these humans were not as far behind as she had hoped. They might actually be a significant threat to The People.
She quickly modified her previous work and this time unhesitatingly commanded the algorithm to execute.
* * *
Captain Crosby and Dr. Cindy Mastrano, Samaritan’s chief engineer—known as the “CHENG”—were on the bridge discussing the options the scientists and engineers aboard ship had come up with for potentially accessing the computer systems they’d found on the moon below. That is, if the builders even used what Earth humans considered to be “computers.” Who knew what technologies they possessed, and whether or not they were even accessible and understandable to another technological culture trying to access them.
“There is clearly a still-functioning power source on the moon, or all the cryobeds would have failed long before now,” Mastrano noted. As was her habit when she was deep in thought, she paused and ran her hands through her long black hair, now interspersed with gray.
“Do we know what caused all the others to fail?” asked Crosby.
“Not all of them, no. But a few of the ones that failed had been holed by micrometeorites, likely the same ones that pierced the exterior walls and allowed the atmosphere to escape. Though the likelihood of having some piece of interplanetary rubble traveling at twenty to thirty kilometers per second hitting you at any given time is extremely low, the probability of being hit over a long enough period of time is rather large. And if they’ve been here as long as we think, thousands of years, then the probability of at least one hitting a cryobed is not small. We’re still looking at the other beds, those not holed, to see if we can figure out a cause. But we won’t likely know unless we can tap into their computers and understand what we find,” the CHENG replied.
“It may be that we have to leave that for the next team that comes out. The ambassador would like for us and the Emissary to return to Proxima b to get together all the specialists we may need from each ship for the return effort. Emissary is already on its way back,” Crosby said.
Without warning, the lights on the bridge went dark, triggering the emergency lights. Crosby and Mastrano were startled only momentarily before allowing their training to take over. Mastrano moved away from Crosby, pushing off to glide across the room and into the chair at her duty station. Crosby buckled his seatbelt and activated the status boards on his personal console. Only those tied into the emergency network were active.
“CHENG, get me the ship’s status as soon as possible. We need to find out what’s going on. I don’t hear any alarms or see any obvious damage or threat,” Crosby said as he scanned the few systems that he could access.
“Nothing yet, Captain,” Mastrano added as she busied herself at her own console.
Crosby hoped she had access to more of the ship’s systems than he had at the moment. From a ship point of view, the bridge crew was both dead and blind—not a situation that he wanted to remain in for long.
The ship lurched and Crosby felt the momentary tug of his inertia trying to keep him from moving from whatever motion and orientation the ship had been in to whatever ones it was now moving toward.
“CHENG?” Crosby asked impatiently.
“It felt like the ADCS thrusters fired to reorient us, sir. But I can’t see the status board to confirm,” she replied, reporting on the Attitude Determination and Control System.
“Do what you can,” Crosby said and then slammed his fist onto the arm of his command chair opposite to the one from which his console originated. “Dammit, the intercom system isn’t working either. I can’t access it via my console or my implant.” Then he remembered that he should be able to access specific individuals via his ear implant.
“Mike, this is Captain Crosby. I don’t know what’s happening but I would bet it has something to do with our guests. Check in with the guards you have in the infirmary and make sure everything there is under control,” Crosby said.
“I’m one step ahead of you, sir. I contacted the team and they’re going in now,” replied Rialto.
Crosby gave a sigh of relief. His crew was the best and he should have known that Rialto and his team would be one step ahead of him. Now he had to do his part and regain control of the ship while they figured out what happened.
* * *
Guardian of the Leader knew she had only moments after executing the software command before her captors would send someone to check on her. She also knew that whoever might come would likely not be healers and therefore more of a threat. Though she would like to have remained immersed in their network for longer to learn more about these mysterious humans, there was no time. She let go of the optical cable bundle and moved toward the door, placing her feet against a bulkhead and balling herself into a ready crouch like a coiled rattlesnake ready to strike as she did so.
Right on schedule, the door opened and two men carrying what she could only assume was some sort of weapon entered the room. Taking advantage of what remained of her element of surprise, she launched herself toward the first man to enter, knocking him sideways as she grasped the side of his weapon to make sure the tip was not aimed at her and raised her knee to strike him in the groin. The two of them rolled and struggled for the weapon and were pulled slightly toward the aft wall due to another firing of the attitude control thrusters. They continued to struggle across the room and into the wall until she finally managed an elbow into his solar plexus, stunning him momentarily. As he crumpled inward from the blow, his finger reflexively squeezed the trigger on the weapon and fired a burst of projectiles into the nearby wall. Using her remaining forward momentum, taking into account the recoil she experienced from her impact with the now-incapacitated man, she swung the weapon around toward the second man entering the room and grasped what she had observed was the weapon’s trigger, discharging another short burst of projectiles into him.
The second man had been raising his weapon to fire but never had a chance. The projectiles struck him in the torso, releasing a spray of blood that filled the air. She then pulled the weapon from the first man’s now slack grasp and used its butt to strike him in the head.
The immediate threat was now behind her, but she knew she was not out of danger. It would not be long before her escape was discovered. She had only minutes to reach one of the ship’s shuttles she had learned of when tapping into their computer system. If she could get there quickly and get off the ship, then she might be able to find a way to either hide until she came up with a plan to reach any others of her kind who might still be alive in-system or to kill herself cleanly so that no amount of interrogation or torture could get her to betray The People.
In her head, she visualized the layout of the ship and found the quickest route to the shuttle she would use for her escape. In the dim lighting of the hallway, she activated her optical enhancements, which gave her the visual equivalent of the audio enhancement she had been using since awakening. No one could possibly sneak up on her now. She set out for the shuttle, determined to make her escape.
* * *
“Sir, someone interrupted the command-and-control circuits with a pretty damn ingenious block. I should be able to remove it momentarily now that I’ve found it. Stand by,” the CHENG announced.
“Very good. But will you be able to know if there are any other surprises in there? If someone can modify the C and C, then they could do damn-near anything,” replied Crosby.
“Answering that will take some time. Once we have full system access, I can start running diagnostics. To be safe, as soon as the system is restored, I’ll put the fusion reactor on standby and put a block on it so no one can give it a command except you or me,” Mastrano said without looking up. Her hands flew across the console in front of her.
Crosby started to reply when his implant signaled that he had an incoming call from Rialto.
“Captain, I can’t raise the guards in the infirmary. I’ve alerted all my staff and asked Mike Rogers to get his SEALs ready to help. I’m nearing the infirmary now. The door is open and…oh, my God. The Atlantean appears to have gotten loose. We’ve got casualties here. I’m alerting the team. A security detail is already on its way to the bridge,” announced Rialto, not bothering to sign off from his communication with Captain Crosby.
“CHENG, I’m deaf and blind here. We’ve got a killer Atlantean loose on the ship and I need my eyes and ears,” Crosby said. He knew Mastrano was working as fast as she could, but Crosby had to alert her to the news he’d just heard—as if it would give her incentive beyond what she had already…
Crosby looked up as the reassuring face of Mike Rogers entered the bridge and closed the hatch behind him.
“Captain, my team is under Mike’s command until we find and neutralize the Atlantean. I volunteered to come up here to secure the bridge personally. We can’t discount the probability that she might choose to come up here to seize control of the ship,” Rogers said in his best “I’m a SEAL and no one should ever forget it” tone. On that point, Crosby was never going to forget. Having one of the two Mikes securing the bridge was as reassuring as it could get.
“Thanks, Mike. There are no circumstances under which we relinquish control over this ship. None,” Crosby declared, pausing only momentarily to make eye contact with him. Rogers’s slight head nod confirmed that his message was received. If the situation were to go that far south, Rogers knew what he might have to do to keep the ship out of alien hands—anything he deemed necessary. Even if that meant self-destruction.
* * *
Guardian of the Leader encountered two unarmed crew members on her way to the shuttle and incapacitated both with blows that were meant to be nonlethal. Unfortunately, her long time in the cryobed had dulled her reflexes and at least one most likely died. She could tell from the crunching sound she heard when her hand struck the man’s windpipe. Any remorse she felt was more for herself and her lack of fine control than sympathy for the victim. He was a casualty in the eternal war between those who can be enslaved and those who are strong enough to enslave them. Being alone here, she knew that should she be captured, she would fall into the first category—her superior knowledge and technology could be far outmatched by sheer numbers. This was a lesson she had painfully learned in her last few days on Proxima b.
There! Immediately ahead was the shuttle and no one was around guarding it. She knew that was not likely to last. Now that those who controlled the ship knew she was loose, they would undoubtedly surmise that escape with one of the shuttles might be her plan.
Her final leap allowed her to grasp the handhold outside the open shuttle hatch and to swing her torso through the hatch and into the shuttle in one fluid motion. She briefly noted the presence of multiple security cameras in the room to which the shuttle was docked but paid them no heed. By the time they figured out how to remove the blocks she had placed on their systems, she would be long gone and their cameras would only show an empty room and a missing shuttle. She closed the door behind her and settled herself into the pilot seat, activating the shuttle’s controls as she did so. Being independently powered, the shuttle had not been affected by the meddling she’d done to the ship’s central computer network.
She glanced at the controls and decided she would have better control by tapping into the computer system directly—so she smashed her fist through the panel to access the wiring bundle underneath, quickly finding the one she was looking for.
Bang!
Momentarily distracted from the task at hand, she looked back toward the hatch and saw an armed man on the other side banging on the outside of the hatch. She noted that he, too, was armed with a projectile weapon but that did not concern her. There was no way any of the weapon’s projectiles could pierce the shuttle’s hatch. But she did not know what other weapons he might have at his disposal. He might have something that could damage the shuttle and prevent her escape. She assessed her options and decided that fleeing offered her the best chance of success. As much as she might relish fighting and killing the man, she dared not take the time nor run the risk of him having something more lethal at his disposal. She turned back to what she was doing before the man distracted her.
Success! The shuttle’s systems came to life as her awareness permeated the small ship’s cameras, sensors, and operating systems. The shuttle became her body; the cameras her eyes; the magnetometers and particle sensors her tactile and olfactory input; finally, the now-fully-powered propulsion system her legs and she was ready to run free.
Slowly, she separated from the Samaritan and began to run.
* * *
To Crosby, the seconds seemed like minutes, the minutes like hours. As he received status reports from around the ship in his earpiece, the more frustrated he became. The Atlantean left a trail of bodies from the infirmary through the central ship corridor, as she made her way…where? That was not yet clear. The security teams were rapidly searching, but none had yet encountered her. All the while, he waited as his CHENG and her team tried to regain control of the ship.
In less than a second, the lighting went from dim with a red tint to full spectrum bright, accompanied by the reassuring hum of various electronic systems coming to life all around the bridge.
“We’re back in business! The block has been removed,” Mastrano announced with a note of triumph in her voice.
“Good work. Now I want complete situational awareness. Where is she and how do we stop her?” Crosby asked.
“Captain, this is Rialto. One of my men reports that she’s taken Shuttle Two. He arrived at the docking hatch just as the shuttle detached and began moving away. He confirms that the Atlantean is in the shuttle.”
“Captain, Shuttle Two has undocked and is moving rapidly away from aft,” confirmed Mastrano.
Crosby took in all the information and tried to focus his thoughts. The Atlantean has to be stopped. Who knows where she’s going and what she might be fleeing toward. Is there some sort of warship hidden out there that she might reach?
“CHENG, what is the status of the Samara Drive?” asked Crosby. The Samara Drive was the propulsion system that had opened the stars to human exploration and settlement and enabled the rescue mission to Proxima Centauri. Powered by the ship’s fusion reactor, the Samara Drive emitted an extremely intense beam of UV light that functioned as reaction mass to accelerate the Samaritan (and the Emissary) at up to one gee for extended periods of time, allowing the ships to reach a significant fraction of the speed of light. It was the ultimate space propulsion system. It was also potentially deadly, as a rogue freighter had fatally discovered back at Earth shortly before their departure. A second in the photon exhaust would fry any spacecraft and severely damage most natural objects.
“Power up the drive and put us on a trajectory opposite to the shuttle’s path. I want our exhaust rammed right down her throat,” Crosby ordered.
“Uh, sir, we’ve never done that sort of thing before. We usually use the navigation system to go places, not fry things in our wake,” Mastrano responded, but she rapidly executed the commands required to do as she had been instructed.
“It’s time to do something new, then,” Crosby said.
“The drive will be active in sixty-seven seconds,” she noted.
“Sound the acceleration alert. I want everyone buckled up when we start moving,” Crosby said. Two seconds later, the terse repetitive beeps of the acceleration alarm could be heard throughout the ship. The crew was trained to react quickly to the alarm, with their most recent exercise having everyone bucked up with one minute of its sounding. But that time didn’t include securing injured crew. The Samaritan was not a warship, but a ship of exploration. Worrying about crew injured by internal combat had not been part of any of their simulations. He hoped the crew could react in time because the Atlantean had to be stopped and this was the only way he could figure out how to make that happen.
“Fifteen seconds,” announced the CHENG as Crosby felt the ADCS thrusters reorient the ship thirty degrees, presumably to keep the thrusters pointed toward the fleeing shuttle.
* * *
It felt good to run through space, even with a ship as primitive as the one she’d commandeered. The distance between her and the Samaritan was growing, and she was starting to feel confident that she could escape. From her brief time in the bigger ship’s computers, she had determined that it was not a ship of war and that it had no external weapons. Once she was undocked, there was simply nothing they could do to stop her.
Her new external eyes noticed that the Samaritan was shifting its orientation. They had apparently regained control of it and removed her block. What are they up to?
She watched as the ship’s long axis kept alignment with her departure vector, matching it exactly but poised to move in the exact opposite direction. Were they going to run away from her? Did they think she had some sort of weapon with her that she could use against them?
She accessed her memories of the ship’s systems, running through them one by one as rapidly as she could, trying to see if there was something she missed. They were clearly in control and acting to keep her in a constant relative position for a reason and she had to figure out why.
* * *
On the bridge of the Samaritan, Mastrano was counting down. “The drive will be active in three…two…one…”
* * *
The drive! It was a photon drive. Guardian of the Leader suddenly realized that if they brought it online with her in its exhaust path, then…
* * *
The ultraviolet light emitted by the Samara Drive was invisible to the human eye, so there was no “death ray” to see as the drive sent the intense beam of light outward to propel the ship on its programmed course. Crosby knew the drive was active when his command console told him it was, when he felt the acceleration of the ship, and when he saw the escaping shuttle disintegrate before his eyes.
“Cease acceleration,” Crosby said.
The ship lurched as the drive stopped and zero gravity returned.
“We got her, sir,” Mastrano remarked.
“So, I see,” Crosby responded, rubbing his eyes. Only then did he realize his heartbeat was elevated, his palms sweaty, and that he desperately needed to throw up. He had never before killed someone, and he felt desperately ill. “Yes…at what cost?”
“CHENG, you have the bridge. I need to go to the head,” Crosby said as he unbuckled from his chair and propelled himself toward the hatch and the bathroom beyond it. He wasn’t sure he could get there before the contents of his stomach demanded an immediate exit, but he would try.
He made it to the head with moments to spare. Fortunately, bathrooms on spacecraft were designed to accommodate people with space sickness, since most people become nauseous and throw up when they are first without gravity. Because of this all-too-common problem, a vacuum receptacle was easily accessible to Crosby as he entered the room. As he used it, he figured out that he might be the first person to use one due to vomiting after killing someone.
It took him a few minutes to control the nausea to the point where he was no longer debilitated, and he returned to the bridge.
“Are you okay?” Rogers asked as Crosby passed. Crosby knew that Rogers had probably killed many in his tenure as a soldier and could probably readily guess why Crosby had his sudden exit. He wondered how someone could get used to doing such a thing. Used to it to the point of signing up in the military to kill people for a living. Crosby made a mental note to talk to the suddenly more imposing Mike Rogers, after they got the situation better in hand. Most likely over drinks. A lot of drinks.
Crosby regained his seat and scanned the situation board.
“CHENG, how’s my ship?” Crosby asked.
“We haven’t found any additional blocks, but I’ve found an anomaly that occurred while we were locked out that you should be aware of,” Mastrano said, looking up from the status board and toward Crosby. “She redlined the power input to the ship’s directional transmitter and sent a message that kept repeating until we regained control of the ship.”
“A message? Where was it sent? And what did it say?” asked Crosby.
“We have no way of knowing the contents of the message. Once we regained control, it was deleted from the buffer and the transmitter shut down. When I said she ‘redlined the power,’ I meant it. She almost burned out the transmitter circuits with all the power she put into the signal. As to where it went, you’ll have to ask Dr. Gilster.”
“Ask Rain? Why? Oh. Are you sure?” Crosby asked.
“Positive. She sent the message to the same coordinates we came out here to better refine—to the star system that’s been broadcasting toward Proxima b. Luyten-b,” Mastrano answered.
“And you’re sure she left no surprises in the system for us to discover later?” he asked.
“Not totally sure, but fairly confident. I won’t know for sure until I complete some additional diagnostics, but the system looks clean.”
“Very good, keep me informed.”
“Captain, this is Mike. I’ve got an update on the casualties.” Rialto was still broadcasting directly into Crosby’s ear implant.
“Mike, I’m sure Commander Rogers would be interested in hearing what you have to say. I’m putting you on the speaker,” Crosby declared as he routed the call from his ear to the normal intraship comm system.
“We’ve got two injured who are now in the infirmary. Dr. Kopylova has multiple broken ribs and a collapsed lung. Dr. Nkrumah said he should be fine but he’s going to hurt like hell for at least a week. The other is Bob Roca. He’s got a broken nose and came damn close to having a broken neck. He’s resting now but keeps insisting to the doctor that he needs to get back to his station to help Mastrano keep the ship running,” Rogers said.
“That sounds like Bob,” Mastrano added, smiling.
“Who are the dead?” asked Crosby.
“Dr. Thomaskutty and one of the Fintidierian scientists. I don’t know his real name, but our people had been calling him Dr. Xanadu. Both had their necks snapped.”
“Thomaskutty? My God, I had breakfast with her this morning,” Mastrano uttered.
“That’s not going to go over well with our hosts,” Crosby said.
“Captain, it’s my fault this happened. I underestimated the threat and should never have left the Atlantean in the room without both guards being in there also,” said Rialto.
“Mike, you and your team are among Earth’s best. This is not the time for recriminations. We need to learn our lesson and move forward. Right now, we need to make sure the ship is secure and reassure the crew that the danger is past. I’ll be leaning on you and Rogers to have your people be seen patrolling the ship twenty-four-seven until we get back to Proxima b,” Crosby ordered.
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir,” replied Rialto.
“Mike, I’ll meet you in the aft conference room to work out the patrol schedules in ten minutes. That work for you?” Rogers asked.
“That’ll work. See you there.”
After the connection was broken, Crosby leaned toward Rogers. “I will give the scientists on the planet notice that we will be departing for Proxima b in two days. That should be enough time for us to make sure our guest did not leave any surprises for us in the computer system or anywhere else on the ship. And if what happened is anyone’s fault, it’s mine. Make sure Mike understands that. He’s a good man and he doesn’t need to beat himself up.”
“Will do, sir.”
* * *
“Well, if you aren’t the prettiest sight a man can hope to have when he wakes up,” croaked Mak as his eyes opened and adjusted to the light. Holding his hand and leaning over him, wearing a big smile, Rain looked back at him. His voice was strained and as he drew a breath after speaking, a sharp pain shot across his chest. He winced.
“Shhh. I don’t want you to associate complimenting me with being in pain,” Rain replied, squeezing his hand.
“Jesus, don’t make me laugh. It hurts too badly.” Mak took a shallow breath and tried his best to not wince. He only partially succeeded. “Did they catch her?”
Rain frowned and kept squeezing his hand as she answered, “Yes, but only by killing her. She got off the ship, going God knows where, and the captain used the ship’s drive to destroy her shuttle.”
“How is Sindi?” asked Mak.
“Sorry.” Rain’s frown deepened. “She didn’t make it.”
This time Mak’s pain was more than physical. He and Sindi Thomaskutty were not merely colleagues, but close friends. It was her that he had confided in when he needed advice on how to interact with Rain and not make a complete fool of himself. He couldn’t bring himself to say anything in response. He suddenly felt very, very tired.
“You rest,” Rain said. “I’ll be right here and there’s not a force on this ship that will get me to move.”
Mak attempted a smile, squeezed her hand as best he could, and closed his eyes. Less than two minutes later, he was asleep.