The Agathon: Book One (19 page)

“At least two that I saw directly. Sorry, that’s all I saw,” he said.

“Okay, Doctor. If you’re feeling up to it, please come to the bridge as soon as possible. We need your assistance.”

“I’ll be there shortly,” he replied.

“Sir, there’s a small planetary system eighty million kilometres to port,” said Chavel

“Let’s see it,” Barrington said. The view screens flickered and showed a small white dwarf star being orbited by several large grey planets.

“I’m not reading any atmosphere on any of the orbiting planets. Looks like the sun went nova a long time ago and took out the star system in the process,” said Chavel.

“Any idea how far we’ve travelled?” asked Barrington.

“Checking star fixes now, sir,” said Chavel.

“Looks like at least one hundred and thirty light years, sir,” he said, looking around with a look of surprise on his face.

“Keep scanning that nearby system, but don’t alter course. Run a full systems check on the life support systems on deck three and the rest of the ship, and get me casualty reports. Check the flight systems while you’re at it,” he said. Barrington sat back in the centre seat and rubbed his brow.

13

T
he EVA

14:00 Martian Standard

T
he
form
-fitting suits Emerson and Boyett wore allowed them full range of movements while outside the ship. The palm and foot pulsers gave incredibly accurate stability and positional control. With a flick of her wrist Boyett manoeuvred herself alongside Emerson, as they skimmed the hull of The Agathon.

“You’re a natural,” said Boyett, as she watched Emerson use the EVA suit effortlessly.

“Young had me outside that damn Jycorp station so much I was beginning to think I was born in space,” Boyett smiled. Their time had been professional, much to her disappointment, and he had been locked up in the engine room for most of his time with the FTL systems for the past few months. The ship prep had consumed their lives leading up to its launch and this was the first time they had spent any time together outside of the chaos of finishing its construction. It was quiet outside The Agathon. Boyett let her eyes follow the contours of the hull.

“She’s a beauty, isn’t she?” said Emerson, catching her gaze. “Watch your speed, Charly. If there are any hull fragments flying about you could puncture your faceplate.” Boyett smiled at the Irishman.

“So you do care?” she said.

“I care about getting my arse handed to me by the captain,” he said.

“That cute little Irish tush? I wouldn’t worry about it,” she said. Boyett let her eyes drift across the outside of the smooth curvature of the ship and then out into the star field. A small cluster of stars to her right caught her attention. Next to them the darkness was broken with one of the most beautiful nebulas she had ever seen. The darkness was painted with vibrant reds, intermingling with striking violets and blues.

“There,” said Emerson.

She flicked her attention back to the ship. Boyett saw the rupture clearly now, as they drifted along the top aft section of the hull.

“Looks to be about ten to twelve meters,” said Emerson. They stopped at the perimeter of the hole. Boyett faced her palms towards the hull and fired a quick pulse to push herself away from the ship. She then countered it by flicking them to her rear and giving a quick burst to stop her momentum. Emerson was taking readings of the fragmented sections of the hull. Boyett peered into the empty deck.

“This was no impact,” she said.

“Nope,” Emerson responded.

“The hull is bent outwards,” she said.

“What was on this deck?” he asked her.

“Nothing much. A galley, some small lab space, more crew quarters,” Boyett said.

“I’m going in,” she said. She gently fired her palm thrusters and drifted inside the hole, grabbing hold of the bent metal on her way in to straighten herself. She sank onto the deck and looked up at Emerson, who had his head perched looking down overhead. Boyett took a small scanner from a side holder in her belt and activated it.

“Could have been an overload in the EPS relays,” she said.

“Then why isn’t the deck plating scorched?” Emerson said.

“Looks like the energy of the explosion was directed out away from the ship,” he said. Boyett looked around the sealed deck, which was now a vacuum. The walls and electrical systems seemed to have been virtually untouched, but the ceiling plating was completely obliterated with tangled and twisted metal and wiring strewn all over.

“Landon, look at this,” she said, linking her device to his and sending him the readings she had just taken.

“Fuck,” he said.

“That’s not good. The poor girl looks like someone took a pot shot at her from inside the ship.”

“Why would someone do this?” she said. Emerson shook his head.

“Better go see the captain,” he said.

E
ngine Room

14:55 Martian Standard

“It was definitely an explosive device,” said Emerson.

“No doubt about it. We found trace elements of a polymer compound with pentaerythritol tetranitrate. Pretty crude stuff but effective if placed along one of the distribution nodes, which it was. We’re lucky the bulkheads did their job or we would not be here to talk about it.” He was still wearing half of his EVA suit, but was clambering out of it while he was talking to Barrington. Boyett was beside him looking pensive.

“You’re telling me someone on board this ship tried to blow us up?” Barrington said.

“Looks that way, and the visual sensors on that deck were deactivated three minutes prior,” Emerson said. The captain went quiet.

“Captain, we need to land to repair the outer hull,” Tosh said, breaking the silence in the engine room.

“Who knows about this?” Barrington said, sidestepping Tosh’s comment.

“Just the crew on the EVA and us, but it’s a small ship, Captain,” said Emerson. Barrington turned to Tosh.

“You want to land the ship?”

Tosh looked at the lifeless Betty. “Going into hyperspace with a hull breach this size is not recommended,” he said. “The gravitational distortion could destabilise the integrity of the hull and we all know that’s not a good thing.” Barrington nodded and turned to leave.

“Charly, you’re with me,” he said to Boyett, who quickly followed step. They left the engine room and made their way into the hallway of the ship. Barrington was silent until they reached the lift.

“Bridge,” he said out loud. “Well?” he said to Boyett.

“Well?” she responded, raising an eyebrow.

“What do you think?” he asked.

“Sounds like our friend is back,” she said.

“This is all we need right now. Christ,” Barrington said, hitting the side panels of the lift with a closed fist. The doors of the lift opened up to the bridge and the pair stepped off. The bridge went quiet. Barrington took the centre seat as Boyett relieved Chavel from flight, who then retook his station. Tyrell was at the rear of the bridge at a science station conducting star mapping. Barrington thought for a moment. His thought process for dire situations was a disciplined one. He began segmenting each problem into its own containment area within his mind. He walled the issues with fortified structures and accessed them only in order of priority. This was an easy choice. He had to fix the ship first.

“David, what are the conditions of the nearby planets? Any of them suitable to land on?” he said. Chavel looked at the captain.

“There is no atmosphere present on any of the planets sir, but gravitationally the second planet is two thirds that of Earth.”

“Charly, set a course,” Barrington said.

“Aye, sir,” she said. She seemed to get a sudden surge of enthusiastic energy. Barrington had to guess that deep inside she was glad to be finally flying something. The star field began to shift in the viewing screens as the ship was manoeuvred towards the dead planetary system. Barrington looked at the view screen.

“Barrington to Carrie Barrington,” he said, touching the comm panel.

“Carrie here,” came a swift response.

“You okay, Dice?” he asked.

“I’m good. A little shaken but none the worse for wear.”

“Good,” he said. “Can you come to the bridge please?” he added.

“Sure thing,” she said. He had not asked her to formally come to the bridge before and could hear her surprise. Not unlike when he called her to his room when she was young and had misbehaved.

“Be there in five,” she added and clicked off the comms.

He turned to Tyrell. “Tyrone, any idea where the hell we are?” Tyrell had been looking at the captain curiously.

“Yes. We are one hundred and
twenty
-seven light years from the Sol system. The only star system within ten light years is the one white dwarf system we are currently on route to, designated Beta
32442
-99/GH. There is very little information on it unfortunately, other than the reference. It was deemed to be of little astronomical relevance. The Agathon’s course would not appear to have been altered by the explosion. While there are G type stars we could travel to which would provide a more hospitable environment to humans, I would agree using the FTL with a compromised hull would not be advisable.”

He returned to his readings and began scanning the surrounding area.

“Thank you, Doctor,” Barrington said, still looking at the view screens. The lift doors opened and Carrie walked onto the bridge. Chavel met her gaze and smiled.

“Boyett, you have the con,” Barrington said and stood from his chair. He walked over to Carrie and placed a hand on her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. She reciprocated by holding his arm. He walked to the lift and stepped inside. He waited for Carrie to enter, then told the lift their destination. They stood quietly for a moment.

“I have a job for you. I want it done quickly and quietly.” Carrie nodded as he relayed his instructions to her mentally. There was a look of shock on her face as he told her about the explosive device.

“I’ll try,” she said out loud.

Carrie Barrington’s Quarters deck 8

16:45 Martian Standard

Carrie’s quarters were simple. A double bunk in the corner of the room was positioned next to a floor to ceiling window, allowing for magnificent views into the unending vista of space. A pair of man’s boots lay at the foot of the bed. She had to remind herself they were there in case her father walked in. She had told Chavel not to leave his things lying about, but men would be men. A small flower decorated the centre table of the rectangular space. She kept the lights low and made her way over to it. She lifted the table up carefully and placed it out of the way. She unbuttoned the top fastenings of her jumpsuit to give her some air and knelt on the soft flooring. She closed her eyes and slowed her breathing, as the drawbridge of her mind let slack the chains that held it locked.

She awoke in her castle in front of a battlement, staring down at the faces of those on board The Agathon. They stared up at her blankly from across the moat. Slowly she reached her arm up and beckoned them to enter. One by one they started to walk towards the drawbridge, which had settled on the surrounding grass. As they each entered the courtyard, their voices began to drift upwards towards her. Their mouths remained closed, but the voices seemed to carry in the surrounding air. The sound of whispers swelled up as the intimate thoughts of hundreds began to merge into a swell of voices. She closed her eyes as the mayhem of it began to overwhelm her.

“Stop!” she shouted at the top of her lungs, while placing both hands facing out as if to fend off an attack from a wild animal.

“You will wait your turn!” she shouted into the onslaught of thoughts. The noise subsided as the courtyard full of The Agathon’s crew and passengers stared up at her. She saw her father, David, Doctor Tyrell and the others all looking at her with blank expressions, awaiting her commands. She walked across a
stone
-covered path and made her way down a carved stone staircase. The crowd watched her as she descended. They split apart and made a path for her to walk through.

“Okay,” she said quietly to the waiting faces.

“Let’s begin.” She stretched out her arms and faced her palms to the sky. Her guests followed suit. She began to walk amongst them, grazing their fingertips as she passed. Each time she touched a hand her mind was flooded with images. She touched Chanda Pell, a botanist from the colony on Mars. A slender Indian woman who grew the most beautiful geraniums she had ever seen. She saw through her eyes as she let herself drift into her mind. She saw the hydroponics bay with Chanda’s eyes, as she tended to the growing trees and foliage. Her mind was clear. Unclouded. At peace. It lingered on thoughts of a man. Her husband. She found herself in a wheat field on a sunny day, unfolding a large blanket on the ground and laying her head on his lap as his fingers coursed through her hair. The sun felt warm as sadness filled her. She imagined what he may have been doing when the ground on which he was standing vaporised. She wondered if he felt any pain. She buried the pain and tended to the greenery. Carrie opened her eyes and touched the hand next to hers. Douglas Griffiths, a
dark
-haired man in his forties. One of the Atmo Two technicians from Yorkshire in England. She had met him only once. He was a quiet man with a soft way about him. He was in his quarters reading an old spy novel on a clear pad. He loved to read and had thousands of listings. He wished he were more social and feels lonely on the ship. His time in the main machine room of Atmo Two flashed past her mind. Fixing, tinkering, monitoring, reading. A solid working man with no family. Insufferably shy, but a gifted mechanical mind. A mind that could do no harm. She moved past him and glanced at another open palm. Trisha Davenport, a solidly built security officer sent from the Jycorp Station. Like Griffiths, she was in her quarters but not reading. She was out of breath. Carrie felt the strength of her heartbeat as she raised and lowered her body close to the floor, repeating push up after push up. She had a disciplined mind. She found comfort in routine. She was no stranger to battle. Her thoughts were of a gunfight in a dark rundown city on Earth. Someone was killed. A man she was with. She was alone and surrounded. She opened fire against an unseen enemy, but was hit in the chest by a pulsar. Her thoughts returned her to her room as she continued to exercise. Carrie stayed with her mind, following her thoughts through her transfer to the ship right up to the present moment.

After a minute of scanning she moved on to another. She touched the hands of as many of the crew as she could. Ed Clifford, a young chemist from the Jycorp Station, originally from Toronto. Dezydery Castellarnau, a
twenty
-
four
-
year
-old German medic from the colony, now stationed in the medical bay under Doctor Brubaker. She was struggling to cope with the loss of her entire family on Earth. Carrie knew her mind and she moved on quickly. This girl could not harm anyone. She moved through the courtyard. A representation of David Chavel stood before her. She pulled her hand back and moved past him. There was no need to move into his mind. They had shared enough to know what she needed to know. Charly Boyett’s outstretched fingers met hers. She saw her on the bridge. She felt no fear. Her mind was confident and daring. She watched the view screens as the approaching planet grew in size. Her mind was focused. She felt the ship under her fingers responding to her delicate movements. She felt anger towards whoever would attempt to destroy it. The ship had been her baby. The sadness she repressed was kept at bay with trained and deliberate purpose. Carrie left her mind. She touched another. Erin Canaleta, a
thirty
-
year
-old biochemist from the colony. She was in a lab staring at a small Holo image of a young girl. Her daughter.