Frontiers 07 - The Expanse (20 page)

“Lieutenant Commander,” Nathan greeted.

“Sir.”

“Rough trip?”

“I’ve had rougher.”

“Well?”

“They’re all dead, sir. It wasn’t pretty.”

“Were they from the Jasper?”

“I’m not sure,” she admitted. “Maybe, or maybe their descendants.”

“What’s that?” he asked, pointing to the case in her left hand.

“We pulled what we think is a data core. I don’t know if it still works.”

“Give it to Cheng’s people,” Nathan instructed.

“Mister Taves offered to take a crack at it,” Jessica told him.

“Give it to Vlad first. I suspect it’s closer to our technology than the Takarans’ anyway.”

“Yes, sir.”

Nathan noticed Jessica wasn’t herself. She seemed emotionally drained. “You okay?”

“Like I said, it was not pretty.”

“Care to talk about it?”

“Not really, Nathan,” she told him, “at least not now. Maybe later, after a long hot shower and some chow.” Jessica pulled a data module from the chest piece on her cold weather suit and handed it to Nathan. “We recorded everything we saw.”

Nathan looked at the data module in his hand, wondering what was stored on the device.

“Those people never had a chance down there,” Jessica told him, “not in that cold.”

“Makes you wonder why they even went down there to begin with,” Nathan said.

“Yes, sir, it does.”

“Take some down time, Lieutenant Commander. I’ll take a look at the recordings, and we’ll talk later.”

“Yes, sir.”

* * *

Nathan sat in his ready room, transfixed by the images shown on the large view screen built into the forward bulkhead. Emaciated humans with sunken eyes and cheeks, wrapped in layers upon layers of well-worn clothing and blankets. There were many signs of technology: electrical, electronics, even a fusion generator. However, many of these items appeared to have been scavenged from systems not intended for use on the surface. They were too diverse, and in many places had been joined together in haphazard fashion. Nathan was sure that most of the components had come from one or more shuttles, possibly the one that had brought them down to the surface.

The worst images were those of the carcasses of the dead, most of which had been carefully butchered as if to be consumed. When he first saw the carcasses, Nathan couldn’t believe it. He was sure his eyes were playing tricks on him. There were so many of them. They had been so desperate that they had abandoned all decency, leaving the carcasses lying in a cold room where they would quickly freeze and not smell. In the end, they must have fallen deeper into despair as they no longer bothered disposing of the carcasses, leaving them lying about. Perhaps they were too weak to drag them into storage. Nathan could only hope that had been the case.

“Captain?” Cameron called from the hatchway.

Nathan paused the video playback. “Yes, Commander?”

“Medical has finished with the tissue samples brought back from the surface. There were no signs of the plague.”

“Well, we didn’t expect any. The biological version cannot survive in sub-zero temperatures. That much we do know.” Nathan sighed. “What about the data core?”

“Vlad is working on it now. He’s going to link it up with a data pad instead of our own systems, just to be safe.”

“Very well.”

“Is everything all right?”

“These people didn’t die of the plague, Commander. They were alive long enough to build heavy stone shelters. They were able to make use of technology from disabled shuttles; at least, I think that’s where they got it. When they died, they were cold, starving, and desperate. You can see it in their frozen expressions. What I don’t get is why they settled in such an unforgiving environment. Why not closer to the planet’s equator where it’s warmer?”

“Yosef says there’s evidence of heavy lava flows all over the central latitudes. She thinks there was considerable volcanic activity some time ago.”

“Then why not settle on the edge or a few hundred kilometers away from the flows? It would still have to be warmer.”

“Maybe the site was more habitable when they landed,” Cameron theorized. “It is in the middle latitudes.”

“Well tell Vlad to get on that core,” Nathan urged. “I want to know what happened to these people.”

“Why is it so important to you?” Cameron wondered.

Nathan jumped the paused video image back a few frames, stopping on a shot of one of the neatly carved bodies. “These people were forced to eat each other, Commander, while everything they needed was sitting in orbit above them.”

“Understood,” Cameron answered. “In the meantime, we’ve finished off-loading what usable propellant was left on the Jasper. Perhaps we should be moving on.”

“How’s our propellant level?”

“Twenty-two percent of capacity,” Cameron answered. “We gained about ten percent by coming here.”

“Very well. Make way as soon as possible.”

“Aye, sir.” Cameron glanced at the horrible image on the screen, quickly turning her head away to exit the ready room.

Nathan continued watching the video playback, feeling compelled to witness what the passengers of the Jasper had gone through. He was enraged at what had happened on the surface below him so many centuries ago. He was also frustrated that there was nothing he could do about it. Those people died, perhaps needlessly, and there would be no one to hold accountable for their deaths. It made him wonder, in the end, who would be held accountable for all the deaths both on the Aurora and in her wake.

CHAPTER SIX

“Cheng,” Nathan greeted as he entered the port torpedo room. “Something to show me?”

“Yes, Captain,” Vladimir stated. “Lieutenant Montgomery and his team have completed the first tube refit. Torpedo tube number two is now configured to fire plasma cannon shots.”

“Wonderful,” Nathan answered, albeit with some skepticism in his voice. “How does it work?”

“Well, our final design was a bit different than our first conceptual drawings,” Lieutenant Montgomery explained. “To make a long story short, we had to make the cannon a bit smaller in order to fit it inside the existing outer tube sleeve. While this does decrease the potential strike power of the weapon to some degree, it gives us room to gimble the cannon within the tube.”

“This means we no longer have to be pointed exactly at the target when firing,” Vladimir elaborated. “We just have to be pointed in the close vicinity of the target.”

“How close?” Nathan asked.

“The more distant the target, the less accurately the ship needs to point,” Lieutenant Montgomery explained.

“And this weapon will work?”

“We will need to conduct a series of test shots at targets positioned at exact locations in relation to the weapon in order to calibrate the targeting systems,” Vladimir told him. “However, the weapon is ready to fire, sir.”

“What did you say the effective range of the weapon is?” Nathan asked.

“Five hundred kilometers,” Lieutenant Montgomery answered. “After that, the plasma shot begins to spread out and weaken rather rapidly.”

“Tactical, Captain,” Nathan called over his comm-set.

“
Captain, go for Tactical
,” Mister Randeen answered.

“Threat board?”

“
All clear, sir.
”

“Do we have any training flights out?”

“
No, sir. They landed ten minutes ago. We’re at red deck
.”

“Very well. We’re about to fire a test shot of the plasma cannon out of the number two torpedo tube. Please track the flight path and intensity of the shot. Send the results to the port torpedo room.”

“
Aye, sir.
”

“Gentlemen, you may take a test shot,” Nathan announced.

“Very well, sir,” Lieutenant Montgomery responded. “If everyone will please clear the chamber, we will proceed.”

Nathan and the others turned and withdrew to the next compartment, after which, the large door that separated the torpedo tube chamber from the main torpedo room lowered into place.

“Charge the weapon to ten percent,” Lieutenant Montgomery ordered his crew.

“Only ten percent?” Nathan wondered.

“There is no need to fire at full power on the first shot,” Vladimir said. “That would be an unnecessary risk.”

“Of course,” Nathan said, trying not to appear as dumb as he felt.

“Tube room sealed,” the Takaran technician reported. “Tube two charged at ten percent. Outer doors are open. All systems report weapon is ready to fire.”

“Fire the weapon,” Lieutenant Montgomery ordered.

“Firing weapon.”

A muffled hum sounded from the tube room on the other side of the heavy door. The hum quickly grew in intensity but, within a second, was replaced with a
thwang
that shook the room and would have been deafening had they not been separated from the weapon by the heavy door. As the weapon fired, Nathan was sure he felt every hair on his body tingle for a moment.

“Firing cycle complete. Charge expended. Taking the weapon offline,” the technician reported.

“Vent and scrub the chamber,” Lieutenant Montgomery ordered.

Nathan looked at Vladimir. “When the weapon fires, it vents toxic gases into the chamber,” Vladimir explained. “The compartment must be ventilated to space and repressurized before anyone can safely enter the chamber.”

“That doesn’t seem like a good idea,” Nathan said.

“These cannons were not designed to be used in an enclosed space,” Lieutenant Montgomery reminded them. “Accommodations will have to be made.”

“Will this interfere with our regular torpedoes?”

“Currently, yes,” Vladimir answered. “Since we do not have auto-loading systems, no one would be able to enter the chamber to load conventional torpedoes. However, assuming the weapon passes all tests, we have plans to install a secondary bulkhead to allow us to manually load conventional torpedoes while using the plasma cannon.”

“You’re going to add a wall?” Nathan wondered.

“It is not as difficult as it sounds,” Vladimir assured him.

“Data is coming in now,” the technician reported.

Nathan stepped up to the display, noticing the potential energy of the shot. “That was at ten percent power?” he asked, pointing at the display.

“Yes, sir,” Lieutenant Montgomery answered proudly.

“Nice,” Nathan congratulated. “Very nice indeed. How long do you need to prepare for calibration?”

“A few hours,” Vladimir answered.

“We jump in one, then you’ll have a seven-hour window in which to calibrate that thing. Assuming that it works, how long will it take to install the other two tubes?”

“About a week for each,” Lieutenant Montgomery stated.

“Excellent. Carry on, Lieutenant,” Nathan ordered.

* * *

“I believe it’s safe to revive him now, Captain,” Doctor Chen said.

Nathan looked at the old man lying on the medical bed. His hair was long and gray, and he had a rough, untrimmed beard. He was thin and appeared frail, which Nathan understood to be the result of the failing neuromuscular stimulation systems in the man’s stasis pod.

“I wonder how he’ll react,” Nathan said. “I mean, he’s been in stasis for eight hundred years.” Nathan turned to the doctor. “Do you think he’ll react badly?”

“If by badly you mean with a lot of emotion and disbelief, then yes,” Doctor Chen answered. “However, he is still under selective muscular paralytics. They were necessary to keep him still while the nanites repaired damage to his major organs and skeletal muscles.” She paused and looked at Nathan. “Shall I?”

“Yes.” Nathan watched as Doctor Chen administered the stimulant into the patient’s intravenous line.

“It should only take a moment or two to take effect,” she announced as she put away the syringe.

“Imagine, this guy was around during the plague,” Nathan said in amazement. “He witnessed the collapse of civilization.”

“You are such a history geek,” Jessica mumbled, rolling her eyes.

The old man’s head moved slowly from side to side as his eyes began to squint at the bright lights in the room. Doctor Chen quickly turned off the overhead examination light, making the illumination in the room considerably less bright. The old man’s left eye cracked open wider, looking at Jessica. “Either I’m dreaming…” he mumbled as he closed his left eye again. His head rolled back to the right as his right eye opened to the sight of Nathan and Vladimir. “…or it worked.” The old man’s head rolled back to the left and both his eyes opened. He looked Jessica up and down for a moment. “Well, since you’re not naked, I guess I’m not dreaming.” Jessica smiled as the old man’s eyes closed and his head rolled back to center. “What year?”

“What?” Nathan asked.

The old man coughed. “What year is it? I just came out of stasis; what the hell did you expect me to ask?”

“3472,” Nathan answered.

The old man opened his eyes, looking directly at Nathan. “Bullshit.”

“Why would I lie?”

“Then you’re not bullshitting me?”

“No, sir, I’m not,” Nathan assured him. “The year is 3472.”

“I knew it might take a while, but I didn’t expect 3472.” The old man tried unsuccessfully to raise his left hand. “Hey, why can’t I move my arms? Or my legs for that matter?”

“You were given targeted paralytics to keep your body immobile during regenerative treatment,” Doctor Chen explained. “They will wear off soon, and you will be able to move again.”

“You must be the doctor, then,” the old man surmised.

“Yes, sir, I am Doctor Chen, the ship’s chief medical officer.”

“Ship? What ship?”

“You’re on the United Earth Ship, Aurora,” Nathan tried to explain.

“United what?”

“United Earth…”

“The only thing united about the people of Earth was that they were all on the same hunk of rock,” the old man objected. “Where’s the captain?”

“I am the captain,” Nathan stated, “Captain Nathan Scott of the Earth Defense Force.”

“Defense? Defense against what?”

“Sir, try to relax,” Doctor Chen urged. “You’ve been in stasis for a long time. A lot has changed.”

The old man closed his eyes again as he tried to deal with the onslaught of information. Finally, he opened his eyes again and looked at Nathan. “You don’t look old enough to be a captain.”

“Yeah, I get that a lot. This is my chief engineer, Lieutenant Commander Kamenetskiy, and my chief of security, Lieutenant Commander Nash.”

“Chief of security?” the old man asked in disbelief. “You’re too hot to be in security.”

“Lulls my adversaries into a false sense of security,” Jessica answered with a wink.

The old man chuckled. “I’ll bet it does at that.” He coughed again. “What about the others?” he asked. “Did any of them make it?”

Nathan’s expression turned grim. “I’m afraid not, sir. I am sorry.”

The old man closed his eyes and mumbled softly, “Damn.”

“It is a miracle that you survived,” Doctor Chen commented, trying to ease his pain.

“Ain’t no miracle about it, Doc,” the old man insisted. “I chose to survive. I was just lucky enough to have the tools to do so.”

“May I ask your name, sir?” Nathan’s tone had become more serious.

The old man looked at Nathan. “Percival, Jonathon Percival.”

“Do you feel up to answering some questions, Mister Percival?”

The old man closed his eyes again. “Perhaps your questions could wait, Captain. I seem to be under the influence of your futuristic medications at the moment.”

“Of course, Mister Percival. I will check back with you later.” Nathan looked at the others, gesturing for them to follow him out of the room.

Nathan waited until Doctor Chen closed the door behind them before speaking. “Doctor, how long until he’s more himself, mentally that is?”

“There’s no telling, Captain. We don’t know what his normal mental state was, so we have nothing to compare it to. I suspect that after the paralytics wear off and he’s had time to clean up a bit, he will feel more up to conversation.”

“Sir,” Jessica interrupted, “if I may make a suggestion?”

“Go ahead.”

“Don’t interrogate the man. After all, as far as we know, he hasn’t done anything wrong.”

“Three hundred people died in their stasis pods while the others died on the surface,” Nathan argued. “Someone did something wrong.”

“For all we know, he knows nothing about it,” Jessica defended, tilting her head back toward the medical treatment room where Mister Percival rested.

“Then why didn’t he ask specifically about the mission?” Nathan said. “He asked about the others, but not the colony or the mission. He knew something went wrong.”

“He could have surmised that by the fact that he is on another ship and not in the colony where he expected to wake up.”

“And why didn’t he seem more surprised that he’d been in stasis for so long?” Nathan asked.

“He did accept that fact rather easily,” Vladimir added.

“All I’m saying is that there is a better way to go about this. If you start asking him questions, he’s going to become defensive.”

“What do you suggest we do?”

“Invite him to dinner,” Jessica suggested with a sinister grin.

“I can make Golupzi,” Vladimir said.

“We want him alive,” Nathan jeered.

“Let him get cleaned up and put on some fresh clothes. Give him some self-respect. People are more relaxed when they’re eating; they’re more likely to talk. Get him to talk about himself, the mission. It worked on Haven.”

“She’s right,” Vladimir admitted.

“Very well, invite him to dinner in the captain’s mess at eighteen hundred hours. I’ll have my cook find something from his time period in the Ark files.”

“No Golupzi?” Vladimir asked.

“We’re inviting him to dinner, Vlad, not torturing him.” Nathan turned to look at Vladimir. “Shouldn’t you be installing some plasma cannons or something?” He turned back to Jessica. “All right, we’ll try it your way. Senior staff and Mister Percival. Meanwhile, search the Ark files and see what you can find out about Jonathon Percival.”

“I’ll take a look, but don’t hold your breath. I don’t think they have records on every single human being that lived in the core.”

“Try anyway,” Nathan instructed Jessica. “And you invite him. He seems to like you better.”

“Doesn’t everyone?”

* * *

“Jump fifty-nine complete,” Loki reported.

“Position verified,” Lieutenant Yosef added. “We are now fifty-seven light years from Sol.”

Nathan smiled at the lieutenant. She had been announcing their distance from home ever since they left BD+25 3252. They had been jumping their way home for more than two weeks now, and the knowledge that the Earth was now only a handful of jumps away was having a positive effect on morale, at least for the Terran members of the crew.

For Nathan, it was a mixed bag of emotions. On the one hand, he dreaded the endless documentation and questioning that he and his crew were sure to undergo, but on the other hand, the idea of turning over the ship and all the responsibilities that went with it created an overwhelming feeling of anticipated relief. He had never wanted to be in command. Unlike his father, Nathan did not see himself as a leader. There had been times during his tenure as the Aurora’s de facto captain that he had enjoyed his role, but those times had been few and far between. The decisions he had been forced to make and the lives that had been sacrificed as a result would haunt him for years to come, most probably for his lifetime. He could justify each and every one of them quite logically, but logic did not help him sleep at night.

“Captain, I’m picking up the same transmissions as before,” Lieutenant Yosef reported.

“Those from the last layover?” Nathan asked. As they had grown closer to the core worlds, they had begun picking up various signals. However, thus far, they had been too weak to decipher with any certainty.