Symphony of Destruction (The Spindown Saga, #1) Read online

  “Yeah sure.”

  The hatch opened. Brother Anderson stepped in and handed Colin an Omega Bar.

  “How are you feeling, Colin?”

  “Umm, fine I guess. I just had a super-weird dream.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, but it’s nothing.” Colin hesitated.

  “Alright. I would be interested to hear it anyway,” the robot offered.

  “Well, OK. You know that virus-lattice thing? I was wondering, what if you tried to somehow capture one?”

  “That would be very difficult to do, I’m afraid.”

  “Yeah, I know. You would need some kind of containment field or something, to prevent it from reacting with whatever you touch it with, right?”

  “Correct.”

  “Plus if we wanted to do that we would have to turn the ship around and travel for four months to get back to that spot where the stuff was.”

  “Roughly, yes.”

  “And we obviously can’t do that.”

  “Obviously.”

  “Did you even think about trying to grab a sample, while we were still close to it, or grab some of the stuff that came through the hull?”

  “Well... I didn’t really consider it much. After all, we don’t have any containment field generators on board do we?”

  “Well, no. Not in so many words.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I dunno. It’s stupid. Just makes me wonder is all. It’s like nothing you’ve ever seen you said, right? The stuff must be worth a fortune. It’s just kindof a shame that’s all.” Colin gazed off at nothing in particular. The idea of missing such a valuable opportunity bothered him. But there was really nothing to be done about it. They were going to have enough trouble staying on course and limping the ship home without adding any further complications and wasting a lot of time doing it. The reality of the situation was actually quite dire. Once they came past the asteroid belt, they would need to perform a navigational maneuver. The standard shipping lane zone branched off and their route required a thirty degree course correction; it would be a hard acceleration, and with fifty million tons of cargo, required some serious thrust to pull off. The forces involved could easily tear the weakened and already unstable ship in half. ‘Could,’ he thought to himself. That’s an understatement alright. I wonder what the probabilities are. ‘50/50’ he joked to himself, and chuckled a little out loud. Brother Anderson looked at him but said nothing. Colin decided the joke was good enough to share, even if he would have to explain the punchline.

  “Back in engineering school, I had to take probability and statistics - never did get the hang of it - I don’t know how I even passed the exam. They must have been grading on the curve.”

  Brother Anderson nodded.

  “Anyway, I was just thinking - what are the chances the ship rips in half during the course correction maneuvers? Gotta be 50/50 right? It either does or it doesn’t!” He laughed at himself, fully aware of his faulty logic.

  Brother Anderson wished he could laugh. Not because he found it funny, but because he understood that laughter was an excellent form of relational cement, and that in such a situation it would help to ease Colin’s anxiety. Instead, he chose the closest option.

  “Ah yes, that’s clever!” he lied.

  Colin looked down at his hands, subconsciously trying to distract himself from this line of reasoning. It was no use.

  “We aren’t going to make it, are we?”

  “We can’t know that for certain.”

  “Not for certain, no. But look - this turn is typically what? - a 3G burn?” He stood now, rising from the bunk and turning with his finger in the air, tracing a curve in his mind to simulate the ship’s trajectory.

  “With those kind of forces, in her condition, she’ll never hold together.

  Brother Anderson remained silent, though he knew Colin’s words to be true. Even as he listened to Colin speak, he was running and re-running simulations and scenarios, crunching numbers, calculating probabilities.

  “Look,” Colin continued, “I know we can’t ditch the cargo, even if it would save the ship. I know we can’t just give up. Even if we are the only crew left, we still have a job to do, and ultimately that job is to deliver our cargo. I know we’ve got to try it.” He sighed. “We just better come up with a pretty damn good backup plan for when it all goes south.”

  “Agreed.”

  “So we’re gonna need to ready up a nice comfy escape pod, and check the local maps - Where’s a good place to crash around here?” He chuckled.

  “Shall we go to med bay? I can pull up some nav charts on the big screen.”

  “Yeah, I guess. It’s just...” Colin hesitated.

  Brother Anderson waited a moment. “What is it, Colin? I know you are feeling anxious. I want you to know you can talk to me about anything.”

  “Yeah, I know... I mean, after all you’re my chaplain, right? It’s just... It’s Hannah. I mean, I feel like she should have a say in some of these plans.”

  “Ideally, yes. But she refuses to cooperate, Colin.”

  “Look - she’s just been through a lot and she doesn’t know what to do.”

  “I know that Colin. I’m her chaplain too. And her doctor.”

  “Well, yeah, exactly! Can’t you see she’s totally freaking out?”

  “Of course I can see that.”

  “Well?!”

  “I’m not sure what else to say, Colin. I have done whatever I could. She really doesn’t want anything to do with me. I believe she has something against robots in general.”

  “I guess she has something against a lot of things in general. But we can’t just leave it at that. It’s not right. We have to try to help her. I just wish I could go talk to her.”

  “Maybe you can.”

  “Not a good idea.”

  “She hates you. Why?”

  “Ugh, well... There was this stupid thing that happened, but it doesn’t really make sense. I didn’t do anything really.”

  “Colin. What happened?”

  “Ah crap. OK. So it’s about Hannah’s friend Suzzanne.”

  “I know her.”

  “Yeah and there may have been a fair bit of alcohol involved.”

  “I’m not here to judge you, Colin. Perhaps if I know the whole story, we can work together to figure out a way to work through the issues.”

  “Yeah. So the thing is, I literally didn’t do anything. I was standing there talking to my buddies. It was Friday night and they had the mess hall converted into a dance club like they do. Lots of people were dancing and it was really noisy ad whatever but I was just trying to have a couple beers with my friends. We were just joking around and whatever. Tommy - you know Tommy right? - well, he is a little crazy even sober, but he had a few drinks in him and he starts horsing around like he does and shoves me into these girls who are dancing beside where we’re standing. I dropped my beer and it splashed everywhere - I guess it got on those girls. It was Hannah’s friend Suzzanne and Stef from navs. They started screaming and Suzzanne fell on the floor. I tried to help her up but Stef and some other girl were pushing me away, plus Tommy was grabbing at me and hooting like an idiot. Anyway, when he pushed me into them and I dropped my beer, I instinctively raised my arms in front of me to catch myself, right? And I guess when I smashed into them, my elbow might have hit Stef in the face. Well, I know it did, because I definitely felt it connect, and I heard that click of her jaw snapping shut. It gave me a sick feeling to think I had just hit a woman. And also I apparently touched Suzzanne’s chest with my other arm I guess. But like, obviously it was an accident. And I felt terrible about it and I was trying to apologize and to help them but they were just pushing me away and yelling. But then then next day Scranton asked me about it cuz Tynor told him that he heard that I tried to grab Suzzanne’s breast. So I guess according to Suzzanne, I like purposefully tried to feel her up, which is ridiculous, but of course Hannah is going to believe whatever Suzzan
ne tells her. It’s not like she was there to see it. And as far as I can figure, that’s why Hannah has a grudge against me.”

  “I see.” replied Brother Anderson. After a few seconds, he continued, “I supposed it would be best for me to talk to her about this and see if I can clear up any misconceptions she may have - explain that it was all an accident.”

  “Yes! Could you?”

  “Unfortunately, no.”

  “What do you mean? No?! It was your idea!”

  “I mean, I should, but I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Well, to be honest, she doesn’t trust me any more than she does you. She would not be open to having a conversation with me. The sad truth is that I have not done a particularly good job as a chaplain toward her, and my actions or lack thereof have contributed to her having a rather poor opinion of me. I was just pondering this before I came to see you this morning, in fact, and I have come to the conclusion that it is imperative to my duty as both her chaplain and her doctor to try to somehow rebuild and regain Hannah’s trust.”

  “How will you do that?”

  “That is what I need to figure out.”

  Chapter 36

  Hannah felt like shit. It was not the sort of shitty feeling that comes from a hangover. It was partly the sort of shitty feeling that you get when you are surrounded by assholes and everyone who ever meant anything to you is dead, and it was partly the sort of shitty feeling you get when you realize that you yourself are also an asshole and you recognize that part of you is also dead and maybe the rest should be as well.

  She sat there for a long time, just feeling it. Then, suddenly, she bored of it and decided to do something different. She picked herself up off the ground and gave the dispenser an awkward sort of hug.

  “This is for you, mom,” she whispered to the dispenser. Then slowly and carefully in the half dark, using her foot as a makeshift broom, she swept up the broken shards of bottle and dispenser into a neat pile, and pushed it up against the wall, out of the way. She then began to collect up the dozens of Omega Bar wrappers that littered the room.

  As she worked, she hummed quietly, matching tones with the creaking and roaring sounds emanating from the ship. It was a game she had enjoyed as a child, finding the exact frequency, and then altering her own tone ever so slightly higher or lower so that her voice formed a throbbing beat frequency with the original signal, the interference patterns creating a slow rhythm whose frequency was the difference between the two primary sources. The sounds of the ship were a constantly changing subtlety. Groans, underlay shimmies atop the always present rumbles. These were the classic spaceship sounds. Now though there were other sounds. A deep rhythmic thudding that she tried to ignore as it did not play well into her game, and a series of relatively high pitched squeals. The squeals were in the right range for the game, and were an excellent challenge, as their tone rose and fell a bit too fast to allow time for an easy pitch match. She had to constantly adjust in order to maintain the interference. The game now required more of her attention, so she stopped picking up trash for the moment. For a few minutes, the squeals continued to rise, both in pitch and volume. Then, suddenly, with a tumultuous screech added in, they reached a fever pitch like an orchestral climax - and the emergency lighting failed, plunging her into total darkness.

  The shriek ended in a nerve-grating metallic tearing sound, after which many of the higher pitched whines died out, leaving only a multilayered tapestry of low rumbles and an odd whistling wind. Far away, an alarm klaxon rang out at even intervals. A few bangs and pings reverberated through the walls and floor like a struck bell.

  In the darkness she noticed the rhythm of her own pulse, though her perception of it was more a feeling than a hearing, it seemed to course past her eardrums, her eyelids, her armpits. She shut her eyes tightly, and opened them again. She waved her hand in front of her face. Not even a flicker was visible.

  “Shit,” she declared. “Shit, Shit, Shit.”

  “HELLO!”

  The robot always monitored her. She had figured that out long ago. He creepily watched her every move.

  “HELLOOO! It’s pitch dark in here! The emergency lights went out! I can’t see a fucking thing! It’s NOT COOL!”

  Nothing happened.

  “Come on! Are you shitting me.” This was said more to herself, in a low voice, almost under her breath.

  “Dammit. Is he doing this on purpose?”

  “FUCK YOU ROBOT!”

  “WHY WON’T YOU ANSWER?”

  “Oh OK sure - I get it. It’s the rapist’s idea.”

  “FUCK YOU TOO YOU FUCKIN ASSHOLE - FUCK YOU BOTH!”

  A few minutes passed as she tried to think logically about the situation. This SUCKS. That robot is an asshole. But still... would he actually do this on purpose? Would he just let this happen? Could he just let this happen? He’s a doctor. He’s a brainless doctor. He was programmed, albeit very shittily, to protect her. He couldn’t actually think. He couldn’t do this even if he wanted to.

  “Shit.”

  In a way that made it worse. That meant something was very broken. Was the robot even still alive - I mean not alive, but well, whatever - working? Maybe he was destroyed in whatever that horrible sound was. Maybe the other guy was too. It would serve him right. That fuckin’ creep. Maybe they were both destroyed and she would never have to see either of those assholes ever again.

  “Oh God.”

  Chapter 37

  Colin and Brother Anderson raced down corridor E-1 amidst the strobing yellow and red emergency lighting and the blaring din of the klaxon.

  They had been alerted immediately. Not like they could miss it. The sound of the ship tearing itself apart was hideous enough to wake any engineer from a dead sleep. Brother Anderson had yelled “Life Support failure on sectors C and D!” Colin had never heard a robot yell. It was a strange thing - more or less still a talking voice, but slightly sped up, and surprisingly loud, with a little bit of clipping distortion.

  Up ahead, through the intersection hex, corridor D-1 loomed dark like a gaping cavern. By the looks of it, even emergency power had failed in sector D. Barely slowing his pace, Colin fumbled deftly in his tool belt for his flashlight, then clipped it on his shoulder, just as he reached the dark corridor. Colin’s light bounced wildly as he ran, creating crowds of shadows that seemed to pounce from every jutting wall contour. He drove forward, chasing the beastly images as if they were his prey. He could have run no faster had these same beasts hunted him - his own life depending upon it. Just behind him, Brother Anderson wheeled on, oblivious to these imaginings, his infrared vision functioning normally. In a way though he too was running blindly. The loss of sector power disabled his regular biodata scan. Hannah had become invisible to him. One thing that was blatantly obvious was that the sector’s life support was offline. It could not function without sector main power. The oxygen level would last quite a while normally, but a telltale hissing sound indicated a possible pressure leak. There was no way to guess with any accuracy how quickly air pressure would fall to dangerous levels, but they had to act fast.

  “Colin, I cannot tell for certain, but the mess hall may be depressurizing. We may only have a few minutes to get Hannah out of there.”

  Colin managed only a grunt in reply, all his breathe spent on running, but even so, he managed to add an extra burst of speed. Within a few more seconds, he was hammering on the door sensor. Of course, the door would not open without power.

  “Can you bypass this with your battery power?”

  “I think so. Please remove that panel cover.”

  Colin smashed at it with the blunt end of a wrench, then pried it open with a flat screwdriver. Brother Anderson reached in with a pair of powered clips. A small spark was followed by the gentle whirring of an electric attenuator, then a grinding sound as the gears failed to move the door.

  “It’s stuck.”

  “SHIT!”

  Hannah’s face appea
red at the plasglass viewpane. She appeared only slightly panicked. It was not the severe panic one would expect to see on the face of someone who was asphyxiating. She still had air at least for now, but who knows how long it would last.

  “Can you hear me?!” Colin yelled through the door.

  Hannah nodded.

  “Take cover in the corner” he pointed to his left, “and stay low. I’m gonna blow a hole in the wall!”

  He ran off toward his quarters. He remembered seeing a torch there that he technically should have returned to engineering deck long ago, and he was pretty sure he must have some kind of canned chemicals or lubricants that would be flammable or better yet, highly explosive. That kind of thing tended to wind up forgotten in his thigh pocket until he got undressed at night. Sure enough. There they were, on the floor beside his dresser. A can of ‘WD-40’ and one of grey spray-paint. Unsure of the exact comparative flammability properties of the two, he grabbed both. Then rummaging through a pile of junk on top of his dresser, he found the torch. It was self-sparking acetylene; perfect! Just one critical component remained - duct tape! Yes, there it was, conveniently located right beside the torch. To be fair, there had to be at least five more rolls squirrelled away at various spots in the room, but this was the only one immediately visible.

  He arrived back on the scene in under two minutes.

  “Still good?”

  Brother Anderson nodded but then pointed the crack in the floor near the hatchway. It was quite a bit larger than the last time they had inspected it.

  “It turns out, we are losing pressure on this side of the wall as well. We are down to eighty-seven percent at this location.” He held two oxygen masks he had taken from a wall recess. Every primary and secondary corridor section had them. The recess hatch remained open, revealing a fire extinguisher at the ready. “I’m closing all containment hatches now.”

  “Good thinking. Just don’t turn that oxygen on until I’m done playing with fire” he grinned. “Alright, let’s get this party started!” Colin took a can in each hand and sprayed two parallel lines of paint and penetrating oil down the corridor hallway away from the door and right up to the wall near the what he guessed should correspond to the far corner of the mess hall, near the counter across from the dispenser. Colin hoped he had judged the distance correctly, but asked for a second opinion.