Read Ship of the Damned Online
Authors: James F. David
Ship of the Damned (20 page)
“What about the men that are part of the ship and standing in the corridors?” Jett asked.
“The field affects each of us differently,” Dr. Kellum said sadly. “Unfortunately, for some of the men there was a lag as the field took hold of them.
When it finally did, they occupied space the ship had moved to and they merged with the ship, the men and the structure of the ship occupying the same space but at two different moments. Those men and the ones in the corridors have simply stopped moving with time at all.”
When it finally did, they occupied space the ship had moved to and they merged with the ship, the men and the structure of the ship occupying the same space but at two different moments. Those men and the ones in the corridors have simply stopped moving with time at all.”
“You must have tried to turn off the generators,” Jett said.
“Not immediately. You see, we took the Norfolk out with a third of her normal complement—five hundred men. Some of those disappeared as the field reached full strength, and a hundred more merged with the ship. We didn’t want to turn off the field until we understood what had happened. By the time we lost hope of saving them, the paranormal abilities had emerged, and Chief McNab began to prophesize and preach. By the time we discovered his ability to control the minds of others it was too late. Many of the crew were already fanatic followers. The judgement of God, he said. Maybe it was. More and more men went over to his side. I knew we were losing control, so I ordered the power lines to the generators cut—it made no difference; the generators continued to run. Everything continued to run. You see the lights burning all over the ship? The power lines were cut long ago, yet they still burn. Wherever this place is,” Dr. Kellum said, gesturing with his arms again, “provides its own power. It also sustains us. We don’t eat or drink, yet our bodies are replenished.”
“How do you explain that?” Jett asked.
“Do you know the second law of thermodynamics?” Dr. Kellum said.
“It’s entropy; the tendency for systems to move from order to disorder.”
“It’s more than a tendency, it’s written into the fabric of the universe—it’s a law. But given that law, then how did order come to exist in the universe in the first place? Why do galaxies and planetary systems form, or for that matter, why did our own atoms organize into molecules, the molecules into cells, and the cells into complex biological systems? And given the fact of entropy, why doesn’t a system move from order to disorder instantly? Why does it take time at all, and why do some systems exist for eons with little decay?”
“A force that counters entropy?” Jett suggested.
“Very good,” Dr. Kellum said. “Think of that force as anti-entropy. With our experiment we intended to bend light, and we succeeded beyond expectations, but I believe we did more. We pushed ourselves into the substrate of the universe—slipped between the layers, so to speak—into a region where the anti-entropy force is strong and entropy is weak. This ship and the people on it are maintained by this force, a force as fundamental as gravity.”
Jett wasn’t a theoretician, but he connected Dr. Kellum’s theory to
what had happened to time itself. With no entropy—no deteriorization—there was little or no passage of time. It stood to reason that if another little pocket like Pot of Gold could be created in a layer of the universe where entropy dominates, decay would be virtually instantaneous, and time would literally fly by.
what had happened to time itself. With no entropy—no deteriorization—there was little or no passage of time. It stood to reason that if another little pocket like Pot of Gold could be created in a layer of the universe where entropy dominates, decay would be virtually instantaneous, and time would literally fly by.
“With McNab proselytizing among the men and turning them against the officers, we had only one course left to us. We decided to cut through one of the steel casings and destroy the generator coils, but McNab mutinied when he found out. He was too powerful by then, and we couldn’t stop him. Most of the others died, and he drove us out of level one. He has controlled the generators ever since.”
“So it was McNab that pulled the Nimitz inside?” Jett said, probing for information again.
“McNab is a very ordinary man with an extraordinary ability to manipulate those around him. He can’t begin to fathom the complexities of magnetic resonance and its relation to gravitational fields.”
“If he didn’t pull the Nimitz inside, then who did? Or is it here at all?”
Again Dr. Kellum avoided discussing the Nimitz, holding back information. Jett was sure that Dr. Kellum was hiding something important.
Now pointing at the ship with the wires inside, Dr. Kellum said, “There is a pattern, and when I have discovered it, we will all go home.”
Dr. Kellum’s followers erupted in cheers, bringing Ralph out of his trance.
“Your toy ship map isn’t right, Walter,” Ralph said. “You want I should fix it for you?”
Dr. Kellum smiled at Ralph, the happy wrinkles around his eyes magnified by his thick glasses.
“Thanks, Ralph, but we’ve been working on it a long time. A very long time.”
“Sure, sure. I understand. You think I might break it or something, but I won’t. I could fix it for you in a jiff. See where that yellow striped one goes down in there? Well it should go up one before it goes down. And where you got that little cap thing on the orange wire—that means dead end, right?—it doesn’t end there.”
Ralph started to reach into the model, but Dr. Kellum grabbed his hand.
“Please don’t touch it,” Dr. Kellum said.
“I could fix it,” Ralph said.
“No,” Dr. Kellum said sternly. Then, more kindly, “What are you wearing around your waist?”
“It’s how we’re gonna get home again,” Ralph said. “The light on mine’s busted, but I don’t mind. I like it anyways.”
Dr. Kellum came around the table, looking first at Ralph’s hip unit, and then at Jett’s.
“How is it supposed to work?” he asked.
Jett hesitated, and was prodded with a spear. His underresponsive nervous system registered no pain. He felt no fear, just the the tension of readiness. He knew he could kill the man behind him, and three or four others before they got him. It wasn’t the time, though.
“It generates a magnetic field that allows us to get back out,” Jett said.
“It’s too small,” Dr. Kellum said. “It won’t work.”
“Miniaturization has paralleled every technological advance since you’ve been in here,” Jett said.
“You can’t miniaturize the laws of physics,” Dr. Kellum said.
Dr. Kellum removed his glasses and wiped them with a handkerchief from his pocket, then he put them on and said, “Let’s go find out. We’ll go to the barrier and you can test it.”
Jett realized that if they took him to the field surrounding Pot of Gold, he could escape and notify Woolman about the Nimitz—still, he hadn’t seen the Nimitz with his own eyes yet, and he couldn’t trust Dr. Kellum’s word. The Professor was saner than the men and women surrounding him, but Jett was sure he was holding something back.
“I don’t need to try it,” Jett said. “I know it works.”
“You mean you won’t try it until your business here is finished. Until we’re all dead?”
Jett didn’t protest. Dr. Kellum couldn’t be reasoned with, and his followers were as fanatic as the Crazies.
“I want you to turn on your little device and put your hand into the barrier. You have to know they sent you in here with no way out.”
Jett saw no point in arguing. They had his gun, and the rest of his team was surrounded. He would go with Dr. Kellum and watch for his opportunity. The Norfolk’s crew had little of their military training left, and somewhere, sometime, they would get careless.
“I came down here with my hands up as a sign of good faith,” Jett said. “I gave up my gun to show you could trust me. Now show me that I can trust you. Give me my gun back.”
“If I did, I would be dead in the next instant,” Dr. Kellum said.
“I don’t need a gun to kill,” Jett said.
Dr. Kellum’s eyebrows rose in alarm, and the guards with machetes
stepped closer. If Jett had trained them, they would have taken those positions when Dr. Kellum had first come around the table.
stepped closer. If Jett had trained them, they would have taken those positions when Dr. Kellum had first come around the table.
“I’ll make this deal with you, Mr. Jett. Come with me to the barrier, and if your device works, I will give you your gun and you and your friends are free to go.”
“And if it doesn’t work?”
“Then I’ll give you your gun and you and your friends are in the same boat we are—no pun intended,” Dr. Kellum said, smiling at his own joke.
Jett nodded agreement, and Dr. Kellum shouted orders, sending a small party of armed men on ahead. He led Jett to the door. Jett paused when Ralph didn’t follow. Ralph was again mesmerized by the model.
“I could fix their toy ship, Nate. Really I could.”
Jett handed him another pack of gum to shut him up, then pulled him away from the miniature ship. A small group of guards fell in behind. Two of these men had their heads shaved and their scalps tattooed—one with an American flag and the other with a battleship. They both carried spears, and Jett felt as if he was on safari, being accompanied into hostile territory by friendly natives. Except he wasn’t sure these natives were sane.
T
he dreamers returned to the lab at ten P.M. While Wes could simulate sleep by reducing cerebral activity, he thought that natural dreaming would maximize dream sharing, and without Margi they needed the extra sensitivity. Elizabeth and Anita arrived first, both so sleepy that they could hardly keep their eyes open. Sadly, even when they were allowed to sleep, the ship dream would deny them rest. They would wake tomorrow a little worse off than today.
he dreamers returned to the lab at ten P.M. While Wes could simulate sleep by reducing cerebral activity, he thought that natural dreaming would maximize dream sharing, and without Margi they needed the extra sensitivity. Elizabeth and Anita arrived first, both so sleepy that they could hardly keep their eyes open. Sadly, even when they were allowed to sleep, the ship dream would deny them rest. They would wake tomorrow a little worse off than today.
Wanda came last, a cigarette in her mouth. Familiar with the routine, Wanda walked straight to her cot, sat on the side and waited for her helmet. When she sat, Len left the lab. Wanda waited on her cot for Len. When he didn’t return immediately, Monica took his place, fitting her with her helmet. Then Len was back, a string of garlic around his neck, another in his hand. As he entered he took a bite, chewing noisily.
Len walked directly to where Monica was working with Wanda. A Lucky Strike hung from Wanda’s lips, the smoke curling around her head pushed into swirls by the air-conditioning currents. Stopping face to face, Len leaned forward, and with a lot of breath, said, “How are you today, Wanda?”
“Is that garlic?” Monica asked.
“Yes it is,” Len said with more breath than necessary, his face still inches from Wanda’s.
“Expecting vampires?” Shamita said from her console.
“I’m teaching Wanda a lesson,” Len said, again breathing into Wanda’s face. He took another bite of garlic. Wanda remained impassive, a bit of ash falling from the end of her cigarette.
“Len, it stinks,” Monica said. “Take that putrid necklace off and stop chewing that stuff.”
Len ignored Monica and leaned even closer to Wanda’s face, until their noses almost touched.
“I’ll make a deal, Wanda. If you stop smoking in here, I’ll get rid of the garlic.”
Now Wanda sucked in a lung full of smoke and blew it into Len’s face.
“Ha!” Wanda said. “My mother’s maiden name was Petrocelli. I was weaned on garlic.”
Then she took the clove from his hand and took a bite, chewing it.
“You think cigarettes smell bad—just wait till you smell it mixed with garlic. Ha!”
Len’s face fell and he looked ill. Without a word he turned and stomped from the room, returning a minute later without his garlic. Glum, he sat at his console, checking to see that all the leads to the dreamers were functional.
“You won the battle, Wanda, but the war isn’t over,” Len said as he worked.
“Do your worst, Lenny,” Wanda said. “There ain’t nothing you can do to make me stop.”
“I love a challenge,” Len said.
“Everything’s a challenge to you,” Wanda said, blowing smoke out through her nose.
Monica waved her hand through the smoke, then went to stand at Wes’s console, waiting for the integration.
Wes held Elizabeth’s hand as she settled down on the cot, and pulled a sheet over her. There were bags under her eyes and wrinkles he’d never noticed around her mouth. Something had happened to her at the end of the first integration—something physical and not at all dreamlike. She was a receiver now, and it had cost her dearly.
“You’ll have to let go of my hand if you want me to go to sleep,” Elizabeth said. “I’m not used to having someone hold me at night.”
“I’d like to change that,” Wes said.
She smiled, then closed her eyes, nestling her head into the pillow. They
turned down the lights and waited. Wanda went under first, making snorting noises and jerking as she fell asleep. The snorting and myoclonia were both normal for her sleep routine. A few minutes later Len whispered that Anita was showing sleep spindles and was well on her way to dreamland.
turned down the lights and waited. Wanda went under first, making snorting noises and jerking as she fell asleep. The snorting and myoclonia were both normal for her sleep routine. A few minutes later Len whispered that Anita was showing sleep spindles and was well on her way to dreamland.
“They’re all asleep,” Len said finally, “but they’re at three different stages. Wanda will get to the dream first.”
“Let Anita set the pattern; she dominates anyway,” Wes said. “Set the parameters for Elizabeth like Margi’s—that should approximate the quality of reception we had before.”
“How conscious do you want Elizabeth?” Shamita asked.
“Just supraliminal. The more dreamlike, the less it will drain her.”
Minutes passed as the brain wave patterns of the dreamers were coordinated and then slowly synchronized, Anita’s brain setting the master pattern. Then, with a microimpulse here and a blocking impulse there, the electrical activities of the other brains were coordinated into synchronous patterns.
“We’re almost there,” Shamita said.
Wes watched the perfectly synchronized brain waves on his screen and knew that in a few seconds Elizabeth and Anita would once again find themselves on the ship.
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