The Darwin Effect (4 page)

“I’m sorry, Cromartie. There is no mistake.”

Cromartie looked back at Ward, still trying to calm the man down. “We all just need to calm down. There has to be some kind of explanation for all of this.”

Ward stared at Cromartie for a moment and Sanders walked up towards them, a few steps behind Cromartie, showing Cromartie that she had his back if he needed her. Ward was still breathing hard, his hands clenched into fists. But then he turned away from them and walked back to the windows, closer to the plate-glass panels this time. He just stared at the windows, suddenly eerily calm again.

Cromartie looked back at Sanders, and she could read the “thanks” in his eyes. Then he looked up at the ceiling. “Obviously something’s wrong, MAC. There must be some kind of mistake. We’ve been woken up way too early. We need to contact somebody.”

“There’s no one to contact, Cromartie,” MAC answered.

“We need to send a message back to Earth,” Cromartie said quickly. That sensation of panic was creeping back into him again, pressing down hard on his chest, making it difficult to catch his breath. “We need to send a message to mission control or whatever it’s called. We need to let them know that we’ve been woken up in the middle of a space mission.”

“There is no mission control to contact,” MAC said in his calm voice.

“Then turn the ship back around,” Abraham snapped. “Take us back to Earth.”

Ward barked out a humorless laugh as he stared at the windows. “That computer’s fucking fried. You guys can’t see that?”

MAC hadn’t answered Abraham’s question yet.

Ward turned and looked at the others. “You’re talking with an insane computer. You guys realize that, don’t you?”

Cromartie ignored Ward. He looked at the ceiling again. “MAC? Are you there?”

“Yes, Cromartie. I’m here.”

“Abraham gave you a command. Take us back to Earth.”

“There is no Earth to go back to.”

Rolle looked paler than ever. “No Earth to go back to. What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

“Explain, MAC,” Cromartie said.

“There was a nuclear war,” MAC said. The computer’s voice seemed to come from all around them. “A massive assault was launched from several nations. Many, many people died from the initial nuclear blasts. And many more died after that from radiation poisoning, famine, disease, societal strife. The Earth is now uninhabitable for humans. There are high levels of radiation in the ground, the water, and the air. If you would like more information about nuclear winter—”

“No,” Cromartie barked. He walked away, shaking his head.
The Earth destroyed?
Then a thought occurred to him. He looked back up at the ceiling. “MAC, how long were we in cryosleep before you woke us up?”

“You were in cryosleep for one hundred years.”

“How can that be?” Sanders asked.

“Cryosleep slows the human body down to a suspended animation in a near-frozen state. Time had essentially stopped for you while in cryosleep, your cellular functions nearly halted in hibernation. Your body was frozen in a gel and your lungs were filled with a liquid nitrogen-oxygen mixture. There is more information about the cryosleep process on the handheld computers in each of your rooms.”

Rolle watched Cromartie with frightened eyes. “We’re dead. We’re all going to die on this ship.”

Cromartie looked at Rolle. “There’s some kind of mistake here. Some kind of … of malfunction. Has to be. There’s no way we should’ve been woken up halfway into this mission … this mission to help colonize a planet.”

“Maybe we can go back inside the chambers,” Sanders said. “Maybe MAC can put us back into cryosleep.”

Cromartie felt a flash of hope spark inside of him. “MAC,” he asked. “Can you do that? Can you put us back into cryosleep?”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible, Cromartie.”

“But there has to be a way!” Cromartie snapped.

“I’m sorry, Cromartie, but this ship isn’t properly equipped to reinstate cryosleep.”

Ward shook his head and looked back at Cromartie with a lunatic smile plastered on his face. “I’m sorry, Cromartie, but all of you are screwed now,” he said, mimicking MAC’s voice. “Something’s wrong with MAC. Something’s really wrong with that computer.”

Rolle was breathing heavily, on the verge of hyperventilating. “We can’t go back into cryosleep. We can’t live for two hundred years. We can’t turn this ship around. We’re all going to die.”

“Everyone just calm down for a minute,” Cromartie said. “Let me just think about this.”

“Who voted you the leader?” Ward asked.

“I’m not trying to be the leader. I’m just trying to understand what’s going on here.”

“Well, I can tell you what’s going on here, Cromartie,” Ward said with that lunatic smile still on his face. “It’s just like what Rolle said: We’re all going to die on this ship.”

Ward walked past Cromartie and stormed off the bridge.

Cromartie looked at the others.

Sanders looked up at the ceiling even though they really couldn’t tell where MAC’s voice was coming from. “MAC, can you get a message to this planet we’re going to? Can you get a message to Eden?”

There was another long hesitation from MAC, and Cromartie was beginning to believe that Ward was right—MAC had malfunctioned somehow.

But MAC finally answered. “I’m afraid that’s not possible.”

“Are there colonies on Eden already?” Cromartie asked MAC.

“I’m sorry. That information is not available to me.”

“What about the other ships?” Cromartie asked. “You said there were other ships on this Darwin Mission.”

“I’m sorry, Cromartie. We cannot contact them.”

“Can they contact us?”

“No.”

Rolle swung a fist at the air as his eyes welled up with tears. “This is bullshit! We’re all going to die because that stupid computer woke us up before it was supposed to.”

“I was supposed to wake all of you up at this time, Rolle,” MAC answered in its calm and monotone voice, but somehow MAC managed to sound somewhat menacing at the same time to Cromartie’s ears. “It was in the program.”

“What program?” Cromartie asked.

“I’m sorry, that information is not available to me.”

“Shut up!” Rolle roared at the ceiling as tears streamed out of his eyes. “I don’t want to hear anything else from you!”

Rolle raced off of the bridge and ran down the corridor.

Sanders and Cromartie locked eyes for a moment, and then Sanders looked at Butler. Abraham had remained beside Butler the entire time; he still held her shoulder gently like he was afraid she was going to fall if he didn’t. Sanders approached Butler who stood very still. She was staring at the large plate-glass windows now with that same blank look in her eyes.

“Butler?” Sanders said. “You okay?”

Butler didn’t answer Sanders; she just stared at the stars beyond the windows.

“Butler?”

Sanders touched Butler’s shoulder—a gentle touch.

Butler still didn’t look at Sanders, but she finally responded to her question with a whisper of words. “The stars are pretty.”

Sanders looked at Abraham who gave her a slight shake of his head; he had an expression on his face like a doctor delivering bad news. “I think her mind’s scrambled,” he said in a low voice.

Abraham looked from Sanders to Cromartie. “What are we going to do?”

“I don’t know,” Cromartie answered.

“I think I’m going to get Butler to her room,” Abraham said. “Maybe she can lie down. I … I don’t know what else to do with her.”

Cromartie and Sanders nodded at Abraham.

“Thank you for helping her,” Cromartie told him.

Abraham shrugged like it was no big deal, and then he guided Butler off of the bridge and down the corridor.

Sanders looked at Cromartie after everyone was gone.

“Thanks for backing me up earlier with Ward,” Cromartie told her

She shook her head a little like it was nothing worth responding to. “So, what now?”

“Now I’m going to try to get some answers out of MAC.”

C
romartie walked over to the bank of computer screens against the side wall of the angular bridge and sat down in one of the molded swivel chairs in front of a screen. He stared at the computer screen where the ISF logo drifted lazily back and forth against the black backdrop.

Sanders sat down in the swivel chair right next to Cromartie. “What are you doing?”

“I want to get some more information about this ship we’re on.” He glanced up at the ceiling. “MAC?”

“Yes, Cromartie.”

“Can you pull up the schematics of this ship on the computer screen in front of me?”

“Of course, Cromartie. Just a moment.”

Cromartie and Sanders stared at the dark screen with the ISF logo on it, waiting as the seconds ticked by. Then the screen morphed into a computer simulated image of a spaceship drifting through space, moving in closer to the ship, then drifting above it. Then the screen changed to an exploded schematic computer drawing of the inside of the ship.

“The ISF Darwin is comprised of four levels,” MAC told them from the speakers hidden somewhere in the ceiling among the ducts, pipes, and wires. “The uppermost level—Level One—is where the cryochambers and airlock are housed, along with other storage units and the air handlers and scrubbers.”

Cromartie nodded as Sanders got up from her chair and squeezed in beside him so she could get a better view of the computer screen.

“The second level is the one you’re on now,” MAC continued. “This houses the bridge at the front of the ship where pilots control the ISF Darwin when it’s not on automated control. This level also contains the main corridor that leads to the kitchen and dining areas, the cold-storage room, the recreation room, and the crew’s quarters, along with some storage closets beyond those quarters.”

Cromartie’s eyes roamed ahead of MAC’s descriptions of the levels on the computer screen. He saw that the next level below them was labeled STORAGE on the screen. “And the third level is all storage?” he asked MAC.

“Yes, Cromartie. There are thousands of storage units on this level that hold seeds and plants. There are also storage units that contain eggs, cells, and even some plants and animals in suspended animation. These will be the plants and animals needed to carry on Earth life when you reach Eden.”

But we’ll be dead when we reach Eden,
Cromartie thought, but he didn’t say anything.

“And the lowest level?” Sanders asked MAC.

“That level contains much of the machinery of this ship which includes water recirculation and treatment, backup air scrubbers, a nuclear fusion generator, a gravity ball that provides false gravity on the ship, and the hydrogen propulsion unit. I’m sorry, but none of the crew is permitted on this level of the Darwin. The other three levels are all open to you.”

“Thank you, MAC.”

“Of course, Cromartie. Is there anything else you need?”

“No, thanks.”

The schematics of the spaceship morphed back into a black screen with the ISF logo drifting lazily again through the black space.

Cromartie stood up and looked at Sanders. “I think it’s time we explored the ship on our own.”

Sanders stood up next to him and nodded in agreement, ready to go with him.

Cromartie and Sanders left the bridge and entered the wide, sterile corridor. The walls were white and seemed to be constructed of some kind of hard plastic with seams in the walls every four feet. Plastic lights at the top of the walls, hidden behind plastic lenses, illuminated the corridor. The floor was a ribbon of smooth gray metal.

They walked twenty steps and took a left into a stairwell that led up to the next level—the level they had all woken up on.

Once on the upper level, they turned left at the top of the metal stairs and entered the cryo-room where they had woken up to this nightmare. Everything was just as it had been before. A few of the doors to the cryochambers were still open. The metal grated floor was still slick with the gel that had dripped off of their bodies. The tubes, goggles, and respirators were thrown back inside the floors of the cryochambers.

There wasn’t anything new to see here, so Cromartie and Sanders went back out into the hall and walked on down past the air handlers and water recyclers, the machinery humming away constantly from behind the walls.

They came to the airlock.

They stood in front of the airlock door; it was a large metal door with a small rectangular window at eye-level. The window was black—the airlock dark beyond the thick glass. Yellow and black stripes were painted across the door along with warnings posted in red lettering not to open the doors, and below the warnings was a set of instructions and the proper steps for opening the airlock door. To the left of the door was a large green button the size of a man’s palm protected behind a hard clear plastic shell that could be lifted up.

A shiver ran through Cromartie’s body as he stood in front of the thick metal door, yet he wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was the fact that on the other side of this door was a room where he could be shot out into space that went on forever and ever.

“I think we’ve seen everything up here on this level,” Cromartie said and looked at Sanders. She seemed to be as creeped out by the airlock as he was. “Let’s go down and check the lower level.”

“Sounds good to me,” Sanders answered and she seemed like she was happy to get away from the airlock door.

• • •

The stairwell that led down to the lower level of the ship was tucked away near the corner of the dead-end wall, past the rec-room, supply closets, and their quarters. The stairs went down for a flight to a landing, and then turned back the other way, towards the front of the ship. They ventured down the metal steps into the gloom. Lights turned on automatically as they reached the bottom of the steps.

They turned towards an entryway and more lights came on as they passed through a pair of large doors that opened up to a vast maze of aisles that meandered through walls and walls of storage units that were stacked up on top of each other from the floor up to the twelve foot ceiling like blocks in a wall. The storage units were all different sizes, some as small as a post office box, others the size of a microwave oven, on up to units that looked like they could fit a horse inside. Each unit was constructed from a metal frame with an opaque plastic door on the front. All of the storage units had small computer panels on the front of them above the plastic doors with red digital numbers shining on the display screens, the endless stream of data whizzing by. There were no handles on the doors and no conceivable way of opening them.