The Agathon: Book One (23 page)

“There,” said Tyrell, suddenly pointing his finger to the display.

“What am I looking at, Tyrone?” said the captain.

“Carrie, increase magnification by ten,” Tyrell said. The image zoomed in.

“Is that a person?” said Meridian, looking at the carving. It was definitely humanoid but much thinner and longer than a person. It had long outstretched arms that seemed to reach for the stars. It had something resembling a mouth at the centre of an elongated oval head. The arms ended in three outstretched digits at the end of thin
hand
-like formations.

“It’s them, John,” said Tyrell, looking at the captain. Carrie looked at Meridian, whose mouth was open. Tyrell froze the image.

“Did you find anything else?” asked the captain. “What makes you think it was the signal makers?” he said.

“Look at what is beside the figure,” said Tyrell, pointing to a carving to the left of the humanoid.

“I can’t make it out,” said Carrie. Tyrell sighed.

“Look!” he said, wiggling his fingers and tracing an edge around the straight lines.

“It’s the Monolith,” said Carrie. Tyrell looked at the captain, who momentarily made eye contact with him before returning his gaze to the image.

“Boyett to Captain Barrington,” came the voice over the comms. The captain tapped the comm panel on the wall.

“Go ahead,” he said.

“We are clear to spin up the FTL, sir. Emerson has given us a green light up here,” she said.

“Okay, Charly, release the FTL ring and begin the rotation sequence. I’ll join you shortly. Barrington out.” He turned to Tyrell and Carrie.

“Keep at it. Any more information about what you think this represents or what happened here would be useful. In the meantime, strap in everyone while we get back on course.” With that he nodded farewell and began to walk towards the door.

I think we should have a talk later
, he said to Carrie with his thoughts.

That’s a good idea
, she replied.

PART 3

17

Rec Room

Twenty
-one days since departure

15:32

“K
eep your left arm up. You keep dropping your form,” said Carrie to Chavel as he hit the deck after missing another one of her lethal backhands. The floor of the
X
-Ball court was glistening with sweat, as Chavel lay on his back.

“Come on, hot rod, one set to go,” said Carrie, as she walked over to him and stepped across his chest.

“I prefer the view from down here,” he said through several heaving breaths, as he looked up at her. She held out a hand, which he took lightly and stepped backwards, letting her weight lift him off the ground.

“So much for going easy on me, eh?” she said. He reached in closer to give her a kiss but she backed off.

“Don’t think so, sweaty!” she said, laughing and walking over to the fluorescent ball that lay by one of the
four
-inch ground targets. Chavel laughed.

Carrie could feel his intentions clearly enough, but was not about to get physical with her lover in the rec room. That kind of gossip on a ship was bad news. The relationship between the two was no secret on the ship and they had openly begun to show public affection. Carrie found him to be a kind and caring man and, while she deflected his frequent attempts to have her open up about her feelings towards him, she kept him at arm’s length. His mind was one of the easiest to read on the ship and she took comfort in that when they lay together at night. The familiarity of his loving thoughts, as they transferred from his mind to hers, had a profound meditative effect on her. She did not know what she felt for David Chavel, but she knew she that could trust him. She knew that he was a pure soul, if slightly juvenile and lacking direction. He was brave. She didn’t need to see the evidence of the medal he kept locked away. He loved her. She knew that. She could not open her mind to that, as it remained opened to the crew.

For over a month she had tried to scan the minds of those on board, hunting for the saboteur. Something was blocking her and while she tried several more times, by letting the crew back into the castle, she was thrown out of it by the dark figure. Her father had told her to keep at it and begun to post security details around key systems of the ship, including environmental control systems and The Betty. Tyrell had spent the last four weeks in relative isolation in his lab, analysing the data collected from the planet. Carrie had asked to be assigned to the bridge, engineering for operations and FTL propulsion control training. She was glad to be out of Tyrell’s shadow and she had begun to interact more with the crew.

“Twenty
-one to eleven in my favour,” she said to Chavel, as she raised the ball to serve. She raised the oval curved racket and served the ball against the large back wall target. Her racket lit up when the ball came in contact with it, as did the target area and the outlines of the court areas when it bounced on their surface.

Anticipating Chavel was easy with the link she had with him. Although he was still only vaguely aware of it, she knew he was beginning to grow suspicious of her ability to know certain things about him. Like where he was about to hit the ball. They traversed the court, which was played over two levels with inclinations at the edges of the walls so that you could launch off into a different direction with ease. While she greatly outclassed him at this game, she admired his determination and willpower. She had let him win several of the points to boost his pride. She understood that much of the male nature. She leapt from one of the wall sides and returned a clever shot by the lieutenant. The ball bounced several times against the enclosed walls of the court and Chavel was able to return the shot, but not without slamming into one of the walls first.

“I’m okay,” he said, as he kept a frantic eye on the glow of the impacts. Carrie’s movements were smooth. She kept herself light and on the balls of her feet. Her breathing was controlled and focused. The gravity on the ship was kept at Martian levels, which were
sixty
-two percent lower than that of Earth. While Chavel and the rest of the crew had grown accustomed to it, Carrie’s ease of movement in the lower Gs had been with her since birth. She could see him tiring so decided it would be best to end their activity with a killer stroke. The last shot she made had sent the ball high over Chavel’s head. He had managed to reposition himself to return the shot, but she knew exactly where he was going to put it. She adjusted her body position to counter with a low corner target shot behind his left leg and waited for the ball to come to her.

“All hands, this is the captain,” came her father’s voice over the comms. Chavel stopped
mid
-swing and caught the ball with an open hand.

“We are thirty minutes from our destination. Please prepare to drop out of hyperspace. Be alert. Bridge crew to stations. Barrington out.” Chavel looked at Carrie.

“You got lucky,” he said, struggling to breathe. She walked over to him and kissed him on the cheek.

“Come on, champ,” she said.

“I’m telling you, I had you right where I wanted you,” he said as she walked out of the court. He joined her and began to walk through the rec room, which was filled with an array of activities from the
X
-Ball court to a running track to a firing range. They wrapped towels around their necks and headed for the changing rooms.

“I wonder what we’ll find at Aristaeus,” Chavel said silently to Carrie. She didn’t answer.

Bridge

The door to the bridge opened and Tyrell and Young walked out. Both of them looked on at the view screens in anticipation. Barrington turned to Young.

“How’s the new leg, Jerome?” he said. Young seemed to be walking with ease.

“It works like a charm, Captain. Thank you,” he said, smiling. Barrington had noticed a slight limp as he walked, but that was to be expected. He had known many men who had needed
bio
-implants in his life and knew that in some cases it took years for the central nervous system to fully integrate the new limbs.

“Take a seat, gentlemen. We should be dropping out of hyperspace in or near the Aristaeus system,” said Barrington. Boyett was focused clearly on her instrument panel, as she prepared to take the FTL drive offline. The doors to the bridge opened again, and Carrie and Chavel walked onto the bridge.

“Take your station, Lieutenant,” Barrington said.

“Carrie, shadow Chavel. I want you to monitor the surrounding system for anomalous debris fields and radiation. I also want you to get an accurate star fix as soon as possible, once we breach normal space.”

“Yes, sir,” said Chavel, walking across to his station. Carrie followed him close behind and took a seat at the diagnostic station next to Chavel. Boyett didn’t acknowledge any of the new arrivals, as she moved her eyes over her instrument panel and kept careful watch on the ship’s flight status. Tyrell stood behind the captain and looked out at the view screens.

“Engine room status,” Barrington said into his comms.

“Emerson here. Everything five by five, captain. Ready when you are to drop us out.” The comms chirped closed.

“Two minutes,” said Boyett suddenly. The bridge fell quiet. All eyes were on the view screens above the bridge. Barrington began running scenarios through his head and did a computer check on the manual deployment of the escape pods.

“Thirty seconds,” said Boyett, with her eyes locked on the centre screen.

“Disengaging FTL ring,” came Emerson’s voice over the comms. The light vibration of the bridge lasted several seconds, as the ship slowed the spinning of the ring.

“Dropping out,” said Boyett. The view screens flickered as the greys of hyperspace were replaced by star fields. The FTL ring moved slowly past their fields of vision, as it came to a complete stop. All eyes were on the screens. The centre screen showed a large bright star ahead.

“Report,” said Barrington. Chavel looked over his navigational readings.

“Checking, sir, stand by,” he replied. Tyrell moved from the back of the bridge over to Carrie and began checking data.

“Report,” he said again with gusto. Carrie looked at Tyrell, who looked at Chavel.

“This isn’t it,” said Chavel. Young joined them at the navigation station and began looking at the data.

“Explain,” said Barrington.

“Sir, this isn’t the Aristaeus system. The star is twice its mass and these are not the correct planets, according to assigned data provided by stellar cartography.” Barrington’s eyes moved to Tyrell and Carrie.

“Charly, any contacts?” he asked Boyett, who was scanning the area.

“I have a planetary body at one hundred thousand kilometres. No asteroidal contacts,” she said.

“Let’s see the planet,” he said. Boyett brought it up on the main view screen to the front of the bridge. It was dark and featureless. The position of the ship gave it a poor angle on the shadowed part of the planet.

“Tyrell?” he said to the doctor who was looking at the planet. Tyrell shook his head.

“I don’t understand, John. We need more data to get an astronomical fix. I suggest getting a closer look at that planet for starters.” He looked at Carrie, who was staring at the image. She was frowning.

“Carrie?” he asked his daughter. She didn’t answer.

“Carrie,” he said again. She looked at him. He noticed she looked worried.

“I agree with Doctor Tyrell,” she said softly.

“Charly, lock up the FTL ring and set a course for the nearest planet,” he said.

“Yes, sir,” she replied.

“Captain, I have a signal bearing 112 mark 224,” said Chavel.

“What sort of signal?” Tyrell said aloud, leaning over the lieutenant and staring at his console. Boyett looked at the captain. As did Chavel. Barrington just nodded his head.

“Highly organised,” he answered.

“Can you pinpoint?” said Barrington.

“Yes, sir. It’s coming from something in orbit around the planet we are currently en route to.”

Barrington looked over at Young. “Care to take a look, Mr Young?” he said. Young nodded eagerly and sat by a computer station to the aft of the bridge.

“Route the signal to Mr Young, will you, David? Let’s see if we can decode it. Tyrell, why don’t you assist?” Tyrell nodded and sat by Young at the computer station.

“Time to orbit, Charly?” he said.

“Eleven minutes,” she said.

Anything
? Barrington thought to Carrie.

Something
, she replied in his thoughts.
I’m not sure
.

The tension level on the bridge began to rise. “Everyone stay sharp,” said Barrington, deciding to use it to focus his team.

“I have a fix on the radio signal, I think I can get a visual,” said Chavel.

“Do it,” said Barrington. The centre screen flickered, changing its image from the planet to what looked like a small orbiting asteroid.

“It’s just under one mile in diameter,” said Chavel. “It’s definitely not rock. Sensors are sending back details of metallic composites. The computer is unable to identify some of the materials, but this is artificial, sir.”

Barrington rubbed his thumb over his eyebrow. He didn’t like this at all. Whatever it was it didn’t look particularly friendly. Jennifer would have had problems with that sort of scientific analysis, but he trusted his instincts and they were usually right.

“Mr. Young, anything?” he asked the Jycorp CEO, who seemed to be right at home on the bridge.

“The signal is definitely artificial in origin,” he said. “It bears no resemblance to that of the signal makers’ coding. If I had to guess I would say that this is something else. They’re not mathematical constants. And they’re being directed towards the planet surface.”

“David, can we get any readings on the surface?” he asked Chavel.

“On it, sir,” he said, anticipating his request.

Still nothing
? he thought to Carrie. She didn’t answer.

“Dice?” he said out loud. She turned to him with her eyes wide open.

“Turn the ship around!” she screamed.

Seconds later the bridge began to explode all around them.

“
Charly, reverse engines!” shouted Barrington over the sound of the exploding consoles and comm reports from the engine room. Boyett was currently lying on the bridge deck plating, after being thrown from the flight controls. Her left arm was on fire. Chavel had jumped on her to put out the flames that nearly engulfed her, when two of the view screens blew up overhead. Carrie’s head was bleeding from hitting the corner of the navigational controls. Barrington had managed to stay in the centre chair. Boyett clambered her way back into the flight chair and began trying to make emergency manoeuvres, her arm still smouldering.

“Sir, something has sent an enormous electrical charge through the hull of this ship,” she said. “I have no forward or reverse momentum control,” she shouted. Young had a fire suppression system in his hand and was putting out some flames at the back of the bridge.

“What’s our position, Chavel?” Barrington said.

“We are twenty thousand kilometres from the planet’s atmosphere and holding,” he said.

“Engine room,” he said, after tapping the comms system on his chair.

“Sir, this is Llewellyn,” came the young woman’s voice. She sounded scared.

“Talk to me,” said Barrington.

“Mr Emerson is under the FTL drive at the moment securing a plasma leak,” she said, her voice shaking. “We’ve had a collapse of one of the primary coolant generators. One of our engineers was inside, sir. I think he’s dead.”

Barrington moved past the news of the crew’s death quickly. “Where’s Tosh?” he said.

“Sir, Doctor Tosh is helping extinguish a fire at the rear of the engine room. The FTL is offline and I’m getting fluctuations from the environmental systems control. We’re losing power, sir. Whatever hit us has drained the central core. We’ve had some injuries down here, but Doctor Brubaker is sending a team.” Barrington thought about the escape life pods. He caught Carrie’s eye. She shook her head.