Deep Crossing

  The inner door snapped open so quickly it took us by surprise. We braced and stared out into an airlock ready room. The place was a mess. The lights were out except a single overhead spot flickering like a strobe in a Halloween haunted house. It cast ghostly reflections on my visor. All the tools of the EVA trade were there scattered about. No one was present. The access way beyond was open but dark.

  I looked down at my sleeve display and called up com system control. “Doc, you need to add Com External in case we run into somebody to talk to.”

  “Copy.”

  “And we need to ditch the maneuvering units and the utility belt or we’ll be too heavy.”

  “Yeah, I got it.”

  We disconnected our backpacks and escaped the shoulder straps. I rolled over to one side, found a handhold on the wall and pulled myself up to become Robby the Robot. Doc had a bit more trouble getting to his feet. From his hands and knees, he paddled up the wall and inched himself around to face me.

  I gave him a thumb up and we started for the ready room, our rocking, rigid, movements adding to the macabre atmosphere of the place. Stepping over the inner airlock door proved to be a test of gravity walk in a space suit. Somehow, we both made it. At the opposite end of the ready room a wide hallway waited. I peered into the darkness but could not see more than a few feet in either direction.

  “Headlamps, Doc.”

  “Copy.”

  “Tarn to Griffin.”

  “Go ahead, Adrian.”

  “Let Ground know we have gained access and are proceeding inside Akuma. No crew contact yet. Advise them of the casualty outside.”

  “Griffin Copies.”

  With the lamp atop my helmet switched on, the beam showed a disrupted walkway in both directions. There was a cooking pot on the grated floor to my left and a push broom leaning against the wall beyond it. To the right, women’s clothes were strewn along the way near two chairs turned upside down, blocking the passage. The control bridge had to be somewhere to the right on a higher level. I waddled out into the corridor and pushed along through the trail of clothes, dragging a few along with me. The chairs gave way. My helmet beam bounced along the walls and curved ceiling. Doc grabbed me by one arm and stopped me.

  He was looking down at the floor. There was a dark amber stain running down the wall forming a dried puddle. I wanted to ask him what it was, but I already knew. He looked up at me and he knew I knew.

  “Did you set your weapon?” I asked.

  “Yeah, and the safety’s off. All of this seems irrational. We could be seeing the results of a virus that affects the central nervous system.”

  “Or intruders.”

  “Has that ever happened?”

  “Yes.”

  “It could also just be some sort of accident.”

  “The least likely of the three.”

  “Agreed. What should we do?”

  “As a friend of mine is fond of saying, only two choices: go back, or continue on, and we can’t go back.”

  “Maybe sickbay is a better first choice.”

  “If we find it on the way we’ll stop in and see what there is to see. I’m expecting Ground to send us the Akuma’s layout anytime now. RJ will forward that when he gets it, then we’ll know where we’re going. Our hand scanners will translate Japanese if we meet anyone. Right now I’m thinking we’re walking around in deep shit here.”

  “I concur.”

  Suddenly a bloodcurdling howl echoed in over our coms. It was from within the ship. We froze and listened. Silence returned. There was only the sound of air conditioners.

  “That was human. One point against the intruder theory,” said Doc in a half whisper.

  “The good news is, it may be a virus. The bad news is, it may be a virus.”

  We moved along in the direction of the sound, trying to be stealthy inside our heavy, pressurized balloons. My beam showed the corridor ahead branching off in three different directions. I was hoping for an elevator though the thought of using one was unsettling.

  At the intersection, we quickly searched. There was still no sign of life. On the left an access way led to a large hanger. On the right it looked like door after door of refrigerated storage. Straight ahead was our best option. The passage was deeper than our beams could reach. We could see equipment alcoves and storage compartments leading to more darkness. Occasionally there were noises that sounded like metal banging on metal, but it was impossible to tell from which direction they came. Not far ahead there was a fat brown rope on the floor that led the way into more blackness. I paused at the end of it, kneeled and picked it up. A tug proved that it was attached to something we could not see. We worked our way forward, following it along the darkened hall. As our beams scoured the passage, other light finally appeared in the distance, a flickering yellow glow near the ceiling, still quite far ahead.

  We scanned apprehensively with our beams and came to the end of the rope. A dark form on the floor slowly focused into a crumpled body. The rope was a noose around the neck. As we neared it, I searched the distance but saw no one, just more garbage-strewn corridor. Doc knelt beside the motionless figure. He pushed it onto its back. It was a man in an officer’s uniform, a high rank. He had on a deep blue, high-collared jacket with gold trim and large buttons down the front, silk stripes down the sides of the pants. His eyes were fixed wide open as though he were recalling some horrid sight. Doc got down on both knees and repositioned the face. He leaned in close and after a moment sat back up. He pushed up to his feet and looked at me.

  “This one’s gone.”

  “How can you be sure through the suit?”

  “No breath on my visor.”

  I had forgotten about our helmet cams. RJ’s voice cut in over the com.

  “Adrian?”

  “RJ, we need to keep recording all this, but make display of our helmet cams exclusive to your station. Notify Ground that the ship appears in disarray, and we have located a second victim. Cause of death unknown. Violence is indicated.”

  There was an extended pause. Finally, he came back. “Griffin copies.”

  Doc turned in place and looked at me with a somber stare. “They’ll just all be hanging over his shoulder.”

  “Yeah, but it’s the best I can do, and at least if some of them don’t want to watch this they won’t have to. One of us needs to keep a weapon drawn at all times. That’ll be me for now. We may come across other victims.” I drew my pulse gun, rechecked the setting and removed the safety.

  The way ahead began to reflect our beams. We found what we’d been looking for. The corridor ended at an open, lighted elevator. At that point, it was a comfort to find any light at all. I was becoming more and more conscious of the weight of the suit. It made me wonder how long Doc could hold up. The elevator had something orange and brown splashed on the aluminum walls. At least it wasn’t blood. As we took turns entering, a brief, shrill scream came from somewhere behind. We stopped and listened. There was nothing further. I wondered if we were being followed at a distance.

  There were five buttons on the panel, the numbers one through three, then a Japanese symbol, and above that a five. It was a customary way of denoting bridge level. I tapped it and the doors slid shut. We braced at the back, weapons raised. The doors popped open a moment later to the port side of the Akuma’s bridge.

  Four large display screens were mounted to the curved front wall on our left. They were switched on, all showing stars except for the far right. It had an image of Griffin. I suspected the ship had automatically locked on and displayed us when we arrived. There was no one on the bridge to have called up that view.

  The bridge was smaller than expected, with a low ceiling. To our right at the rear of the room were command stations; three very comfortable looking raised black seats, the arm rests offering an array of displays and controls. In front of them were the engineering stations and consoles, their readouts fully on, scrolling data, and stepping through ship functions. There was a lo
t of flashing red and yellow on the displays. On the opposite side of the room a large, open double door revealed a meeting room with a long elliptical table, the one I had seen through the overhead portal. There were several other closed doors at various points around the room.

  Suddenly there was a clatter from behind the command seats. To our astonishment one of the doors slid open and someone dressed as a cowboy riding a broomstick horse, galloped in. He wore cowboy boots, chaps, a vest, and a wide-brimmed hat. He carried what I hoped was a plastic six-shooter in a holster hung low on his waist. The outfit looked too small for him, as though it was child’s clothing he had forced to fit. The horse head on his broomstick looked like it had been cut out of mattress foam, and most disturbing of all, it appeared the horse had real human eyes imbedded in the foam. The man’s own eyes were circled in Bela Lugosi black. His lips were bright blue. There appeared to be a run of blood from one nostril.

  He noticed the two spacesuit men standing rigidly in shock by the elevator. He did not hesitate. He let out a fearful “Yeehaw,” drew his pistol and fired. There was a loud crack and the sound of a display screen shattering along side Doc. I jerked my weapon over and fired. The beam knocked cowboy back against the wall. He slid down dazed, but looked around, regained his feet and horse, and galloped back out the way he had come.

  “Oh my God,” murmured Doc.

  “Adrian!” RJ yelled over the com.

  “Standby, Griffin. We’re alright.”

  “Well, yes and no,” commented Doc.

  “That sews it up, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Absolutely. There is massive infection here, something that affects higher reasoning, a neurological pathogen of some type. By maritime law this vessel is now officially quarantined. We need to get to sickbay and see how much they learned before it took over.”

  “RJ, report to Ground that a ship wide infection has been confirmed. There is still crew alive. The Akuma must be designated a quarantined vessel immediately. We need those layouts as soon as possible. Specifically, we need access to sickbay.”

  “Griffin copies.”

  “There’s something else bothering me,” added Doc.

  “So many things,” I replied.

  “There’s supposed to be a crew of eighty. Where are they all?”

  “Let’s try to get some more answers before we find out. You think the suits are protecting us?”

  “There’s a good chance. If it’s air-born or passed on though physical contact, we’re isolated. It would have to be really, really exotic to get through these suits. The problem is, we can’t stay in them forever.”

  “We don’t have many options at this point, do we?”

  “The trick is how to get out of a contaminated suit.”

  “You had to bring that up. We need to figure out how to lock out the bridge in case that guy comes back with a posse.”

  “Lock out sounds like a great idea to me. Remember the Alamo.”

  “We need to find a terminal that was maybe left open. Something we can get into without a command code.”

  We began searching the stations nearby. I worked myself into position and sat at the first one. As soon as my weight was in the seat, the outline of a face appeared on the display screen. I moved over to the next one with the same result.

  “Doc, they’re using facial recognition. Keep trying. I’ll be right back.” I paused to look in his direction. “Keep that weapon handy.”

  He turned and looked back at me annoyed.

  “I didn’t have to tell you that.”

  I headed for the elevator, shuffled in and hit the 1 button. On the first level the doors slid open to the lifeless body still lying prone on the floor. I struggled on one knee, got the loop off the neck and coiled the rope in the elevator. With the agility of a drunk, I dragged the body inside.

  Back on bridge level when the doors slid open I pulled my prize out and dragged it to the first station with Doc casting a somber stare. I sat the body in the seat. The facial outline came up, disappeared, and a tiny flashing red X took its place. Wrong station. This guy was not approved for it.

  The third position worked. I used the rope to tie him to the seat then studied my new display of Japanese options.

  “RJ, are you getting this?”

  “Yes, Adrian, we are getting it all.”

  “Translate for me. I don’t want to have to fumble around with a hand scanner in this suit. Is there one that says ‘set up’ or something like that? We need English.”

  “Standby. Okay, got it. Bottom of the right hand list. It’s ‘Setup’.”

  There were buttons running down both sides of the monitor screen. I pressed the button next to the lower right hand item and to my relief a new list appeared. A small column of words near the bottom of the display included the word ‘English’. I quickly punched it and a moment later had readouts on the screen that flickered and turned to English.

  “Doc, we’re in.”

  Doc made his way beside me and took a place on the other side of our seated officer.

  “Careful not to bump him. If the weight comes off the seat the system will lock us out again.”

  There was a button labeled ‘Home’. I hit it. A new options list appeared still in English. One item was ‘Security’. A quick tap and the top choice was ‘Bridge’. The Bridge list contained one choice that was ‘close all external doors’. I tapped the key and two bridge doors that were still open slid shut. A prompt came up asking, ‘secure all?’. I tapped the ‘yes’ button, and we heard the snapping of locks throughout the room. I stood up and took a deep breath.

  Doc cut in over the com. “Well that temporarily puts things in a better perspective. Now if we can get into the Captain’s logs.”

  “We’d better see if we can look at ship’s systems first. See if anything really bad is happening.”

  “Good idea.”

  I switched back to the main menu. The third item down was Propulsion. I tapped the button and a flow chart with block diagrams appeared. Three of the five main blocks were flashing red. I tapped the one labeled ‘Core’. A schematic appeared with flashing red symbols all over it.

  “Oh Jesus,” said Doc.

  Coolant was not flowing. A bar graph beside the core symbol was already in the red and slowly climbing. Valves needed to deliver coolant were all flashing red and in the off position. Near the bottom of the display, a clock was counting down from 9 minutes. Next to it, ‘containment will be compromised in:’.

  “Danica, stand by to move the Griffin to a safe distance.”

  There was tense silence on the com.

  “What?”

  “Stand by to move the Griffin to a safe distance. Do you copy?”

  “Why?”

  “Do I need to explain it to you, Danica?”

  Another tense pause.

  “N…no. Griffin copies.”

  I tapped at the first coolant control valve, hoping to open it. A prompt appeared on the screen, ‘Not an engineering station. Do you wish to transfer this station?’ I hit ‘yes’ and after an excruciatingly long moment the core display returned with extra options. I tapped at the first coolant valve. A message appeared beside it, ‘valve inoperative’. I tried the next one and got the same error message. There were six paths. The very last one had a small auxiliary valve intended for something other than primary coolant control. I took a breath and tapped on its symbol. To my relief, it turned green and slowly rotated. The flow chart showed a small line of coolant beginning to flow. I straightened up and hung my head inside my helmet.

  “Good but not great,” said Doc.

  “Anything different than what we had is good.”

  On the screen, the coolant was flowing, but not enough. The countdown clock had reset itself to 90 minutes and was still counting down.

  “We bought a little time. We’d better chance a look at power.” I backed out of the propulsion section and called up the power systems display. Once again, more than half of the
blocks were flashing red. One level deeper and the schematic showed coolant flowing intermittently to the smaller power system core. Valves were clicking open and shut in irregular intervals. Coolant would flow from one area then be cut off for a period then other routes would open and the flow would resume. The temperature level in the core was holding right at the redline.

  “How can there be so many failures?” I asked.

  “People,” Doc replied. “My greatest fear, remember?”

  Wilson broke in over the com. “I’m seeing this, Adrian. I’m coming over there right now.”

  “Hold your position, Wilson. Let us get more of a handle on things. Nobody else needs to be checking in.”

  “Erin will help me suit up.”

  Erin’s voice burst in. “I’m coming with him. You need a Prop engineer, and right now.”

  “Erin, it’s the Hotel California over here. No one is to transfer. You hear me?”

  “You’re breaking up, Commander. We’re not reading you.”

  “Oh don’t start that, shit. You guys heard me. No one is to transfer over.”

  Doc looked at me with a wrinkled brow. “Do you think they’ll come?”

  “Yep.”

  “Commander, I think your crew is lacking discipline.”

  “Yep. They’re too much like me.”

  Chapter 20