The Last Flight of the Argus (22 page)

“
I’ll need tools,” B’taav said.

“
We’ve got a room filled with them on the way down.”

They
stopped at the entrance of Engine 3. B’taav carried his bag of tools as well and replacement circuitry. The Independent felt the engine's door with the palm of his hand.

“
She’s running really hot,” he said.

Maddox followed B'taav's lead and also laid his hand on the door. No sooner did he touch it that he let out a yelp and drew his hand back.

“
Hot as blazes.”

B’taav stepped up to an intercom unit on the wall beside the door.

“
Inquisitor Cer,” he called out.

“
Yes, B’taav?” came his answer through the speaker.

“
We’re in the corridor outside engine room 3. I need you to set the air unit to maximum cooling for the engine room.”

“
The AC is already at a maximum.”

“
Then get the corridor cooled down as well.”

“
Acknowledged.”

It took a few seconds for the air to filter in from the ceiling wall. The corridor’s temperature dropped noticeably.

“
OK,” B’taav said. He grasped the engine room door’s handle and gave it a sharp tug. He stepped back as a wave of steaming air flooded into the corridor.

“
You can’t go in there!” Maddox exclaimed. He held his hand to his mouth.

“
Either I do, or we shut the engines down.”

Maddox placed a cloth over his mouth and coughed.

“
Let’s go.”

“
No need for both of us inside,” B’taav countered. “Just keep this door open. Whatever cool airs makes its way in there helps.”

B’taav took a cautious sniff and sensed the bitter acid and oily discharges.

“
On second thought, you should close the door and head back. The atmosphere is already turning poisonous.”

“
You’re not leaving my sight, B’taav. Besides, I’m not losing one of the crew. Even if it is you.”

“
Fine, but if you feel lightheaded, don’t stay.” B’taav drew several sharp breaths. “Give me no more than twenty minutes…”

“
I doubt this engine will last much longer than that,” Maddox said before letting out another cough. “Well, what are you waiting for?”

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

As
bad as the heat spilling into the outer corridor was, entering Engine Room 3 proved far worse.

B’taav covered his mouth with a strip of cloth, even though he knew it offered minimal protection. As expected, there was very little space to move within the engine room, and it was far too tight to bring in a fully functional breathing apparatus or environmental suit. Even without this bulky equipment, B'taav knew he would need to press his body through some very tight, and extremely hot, spaces.

This is going to hurt.

Before he moved deeper into the room, B’taav checked a computer panel before the engines. The panel’s monitor displayed detailed information regarding the engine’s status. It noted a loss of coolant pressure to subsection 3, at the farthest end of the room.

“
Figures,” B'taav sighed.

The Independent pushed forward. His path, a narrow walkway, was clear. The engine throbbed and hummed as it should, yet the Independent also noted the unmistakable sounds of heavy strain. At the end of the walkway he was forced to crouch past a red hot tube, and then climb over another rectangular piece of machinery. Deeper and deeper B’taav pushed and the air, throbbing sounds, and claustrophobic setting engulfed his senses.

Still he moved forward.

B'taav gingerly avoided brushing against any of the machinery, yet despite his best efforts he couldn’t help but stray. Minor burns didn’t affect him, but as he crawled forward, he accidentally pressed his left arm against one of the many tubes surrounding him. He let out a yell.

“
How’s it going?” Maddox called out.

“
I’m having the time of my life,” B’taav yelled back.

“
You can’t say it’s been a dull date.”

The Independent shook his head and squeezed between rectangular cases, searing his clothing as he moved, before finally sliding on his stomach through a particularly narrow aperture. He felt hot, oily liquids soak his shirt and pants.

Coolant fluid.

He knew he was very close to the problem. B’taav reached into his bag and pulled out a flashlight. He ran it along the walls and spotted a ruptured feeding tube.

Let it be all that’s wrong,
the Independent prayed.

He crawled forward a couple of more feet, all the while fighting off a growing nausea, until he reached the leak. It was hard to tell the cause of the rupture, and B'taav decided not to try. From his bag B’taav removed a roll of Stern tape and wrapped a dense layer around the damaged tube.

At any other time, doing so would be an easy task, but B’taav found it difficult to concentrate on the job. His eyes were dry and a dull throbbing headache made it almost impossible to think clearly. Even worse, anytime the Independent leaned in too close, he felt a jolt of electricity.

“
Come on,” B’taav muttered.

He was taking too long, and the longer he remained...

Snap out of it. Get it done and get the hell out of here.

It took several agonizing minutes to cover the damage. By that point, the Stern tape had hardened until it became a solid mass. The only way to remove it would be to replace the feeding tube entirely. B’taav analyzed his work and was satisfied the leak was sealed.

He began the long trip back.

In the Independent's mind, this journey felt like it took hours. Meter after painful meter he moved, until, thankfully, he was free from the tight spaces. B'taav climbed to his feet and, for a second, blacked out.

He leaned against a hot wall and heard the sound of his clothing sizzle, yet the pain came from a million miles away. B’taav stumbled toward the exit door.

“
I’m done,” he said.

There was no reply.

Maddox sat beside the outer door, his head down. The fumes and heat had overwhelmed him.

B’taav ignored the bartender and examined the engine's computer monitor.

The sensors indicated the room’s temperature was lower and the operating system was green. The danger that the engine would overheat was over. However, the air remained toxic. The air purifiers were offline.

B’taav coughed and stepped past Maddox and to the front corner of the room. The air system’s controls were only a few feet away and did not require any contortion on B’taav’s part to reach them. He leaned down and drew a screwdriver from his black tool bag and unscrewed the paneling.

As he did, the screwdriver slipped from his fingers and hit the floor. B’taav reached down to get it, and immediately felt his consciousness slip.

I have to do this
, the Independent thought. He shook his head and momentarily cleared his mind.

The Independent grabbed the screwdriver and loosened the remaining bolts. With sluggish effort he pried the paneling off. It dropped to the ground with a bang and the Independent stared at the computer system. What he saw was a blur of darkness and blinking red lights.

He closed and rubbed his eyes several times and tried to get a better look at what lay in front of him. His vision worsened. Suddenly, all the sounds around him stopped.

B’taav felt his stomach churn. His body felt heavy, so very, very heavy. He needed to sit down. He needed to…

The Independent tried one last, desperate attempt to make out the controls before him. He couldn’t. Everything was dark.

He saw nothing at all.

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

When
he awoke, B’taav was lying flat on his back and staring up at the engine room’s ceiling. His vision remained foggy, but at least he could see. Even better, the toxic air was all but gone. The air purification system was running.

B’taav closed his eyes and allowed a few seconds to pass. Whatever lingering nausea still bubbled within him was settling down. When he reopened his eyes, a young boy was standing over him.

The boy couldn't have been more than eight years old. He stood only five feet tall and had dark black hair and bright blue eyes. He held a small red ball. The child ignored the Independent lying just below him. His eyes were on the air purification paneling B’taav opened before blacking out.

“
What are you doing here?” someone said.

The boy didn’t turn or react to whoever spoke. B’taav sat up. The speaker was Maddox. His voice was weak.

“
You shouldn’t be here,” he said.

Maddox was on his knees by the door leading into the engine room. His face was pale and his eyes were red. He tried to keep his voice soft and his words soothing. It took a great effort to do so but it was in vain. The boy did not answer. Instead, he bounced his ball and caught it, then bounced it again.

Maddox got to his feet and made his way to the boy's side. He gently grabbed his left hand.

“
You need to get back to your mother,” Maddox said.

B’taav sat up and rubbed his head. He followed the boy’s gaze. The child was staring at the green lights flashing across the air purification system's controls. The burnt out microchips were replaced.

“
You did a good job,” Maddox told B’taav as he escorted the boy out of the engine room. “What say we get the hell out of here?”

“
You’ll get no argument from me.”

B’taav rose. He couldn’t recall finding, much less replacing, the inoperative coolant system microchips.

Don’t know what you did, or how you did it, but it’s fixed.

B'taav was in no condition to further analyze anything and decided it was best to simply follow Maddox and the boy out of the engine room.

B’taav
tossed and turned and awoke feeling more exhausted than when he went to sleep. He washed his face and brushed his teeth before heading to the door leading out of his room. The Independent knocked twice and in seconds Rasp unlocked and opened it.

The silent man accompanied B’taav down the corridor and straight to the ship’s cockpit. Along the way, B’taav heard the distant sound of a ball bouncing against the metal floor. It was a sound he had heard before, now and again, but only now realized its origin.

“
Hello again,” B’taav said.

The boy stood at the end of the corridor. He was dressed in a gray jumpsuit and had the same dull stare. He offered the Independent neither greeting nor reply.

Rasp laid his hand on B’taav’s shoulder and squeezed.

B’taav said nothing more. He resumed his walk to the cockpit but abruptly stopped when a door beside them slid open. A gray haired lady in her mid-fifties rushed into the corridor and almost ran into the duo.

“
Sorry,” she muttered before looking away. She spotted the boy and the worry in her face faded.

“
There you are!” she said. She tried to sound cheerful despite her obvious concern. “Come on child, it’s time for dinner. What would you like to eat?”

She didn’t expect any answer.

“
I’ve got mashed potatoes and gravy and chocolate cake,” she continues as she escorted the boy away.

When she passed the Independent, her eyes momentarily settled on his. Her lips tightened and she offered a nod, a small acknowledgement and greeting wrapped in one, before turning her attention back to her child. The two returned to the room the lady emerged from.

When they were gone, Rasp tugged at B’taav shoulder.

“
Lead the way,” the Independent said.

As
he approached the sixth hour of his latest shift, B’taav found it hard to keep his eyes open. His time in the engine room wiped out his energy and the taste of toxic air lingered in the back of his throat. Even more bothersome were the burns on his hands and throughout his body.

Could have been worse
.

Even as that thought entered in his mind, it suddenly was.

B’taav straightened in his chair and stared out the starboard side window. Running a parallel course to their ship and far off in the distance was another vessel.

B’taav gripped the steering yoke and pushed down hard, sending the ship into a steep dive. She skimmed a very large asteroid and hid behind it and out of the other ship's line of sight.

B’taav swore.

He didn’t get a good look at this vessel and, for all he knew, she was a scavenger craft and not part of Daniels’ search team. Then again, they were so far away from
Titus
…

B’taav eyed the long range sensor control. How useful it would be to click it on, for only a second, and get some idea of what –and who– lay so close by.

But then they’ll get a very good look at us, won’t they?