“Well, there was a serial number on the back and guess where it led to?” Sadler swiped to the next screen and a photo of a man in his late twenties appeared. “Lieutenant Commander Cory Mongan. He was an officer on the Columbia a hundred years ago.”

  “Shit,” Mitchell swore under his breath as he saw where this was going.

  “Lieutenant Commander Mongan, along with the other three hundred souls on the Columbia were killed in action one hundred years ago during the initial attack by the Unity.”

  17

  “Bloody hell.” Warrick’s voice sounded muffled from inside the open floor panel.

  The engineering department of the Eternal Hand of God was surprisingly cramped, considering the size of the ship and its massive open spaces.

  There was a sunken ceiling that threatened to crack open at any given moment.

  Most of the consoles were not only dead, they were covered in scorch marks or were wrecked completely, as if a massive explosion had torn through the department.

  The main engine coils were dormant and cold to the touch.

  The air was stale and flat. It tickled the back of Warrick’s throat every time he breathed too deeply.

  “Excuse me, Commander?” Askon said, bouncing his light across the cramped space and back to the chief engineer. He squatted over a large pile of gel packs on the floor. In fact, much of the floor was covered in gel packs. Almost every pack was filled with a similar, goo-like substance. In some packs, it was a dark green. In most though, it had a grayish appearance as though all the color had been completely drained.

  Warrick pulled his head out from the hole in the floor. His face was covered in dust and dirt. He squinted under the beam from “I said, ‘Bloody hell.’” He wiped a sleeve across his face.

  “I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

  “There are pipelines running underneath,” Warrick said, getting to his feet. He tapped his toes against the floor panels. “Massive pipelines all running from the main engines.” He nodded at the giant coils that, in the dim lighting of their flashlights, rose up ominously into the sunken ceiling, giving the impression that the coils were two massive hands generated by the ship itself to keep the ceiling from collapsing on them. “It funnels the power from the main engines throughout the rest of the ship. Not a damn scratch on them. Over five hundred years old and they practically look brand new. Or, at least, whatever passes for brand new back when they built this heap.”

  He reached into his workbag and pulled out a handful of glow sticks. With a quick twist, the sticks started glowing a bright, neon green and Warrick started tossing them around haphazardly. Slowly, the immediate area was cast in neon green light.

  Warrick sighed, scratching the back of his head as he stared at the piles of gel packs scattered across the floor. Something was bugging him, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

  Like the rest of the ship they had trekked through, the walls were covered in the thick space dust. Here, though, it created illusions of stalagmites extending down from the drooping ceiling and the pylons that crisscrossed above them.

  Askon picked up one of the gel packs that still had some color in it. “This is rather remarkable. My scanner’s picking up almost fifteen terajoules of power from this pack alone.”

  Warrick made his way over to a console that appeared less scorched than the others. He set his workbag down. “Like I said, they’re very effective. The real question is, what the hell are they doing on the damn floor?”

  Warrick opened a side panel on the console and immediately started cursing in Vulderran. While the surface of the console was relatively unscathed, its interior was a mess of cables and wires that were either cut, stripped or frayed apart.

  “What seems to be the problem?” Askon asked.

  Warrick didn’t answer him. Instead he moved to another console, this one adjacent to the main engines, and quickly opened it up. Inside he found a scene that matched the other console. Warrick looked around engineering again. All the damage was taking on a very different look now.

  Warrick shook his head. “None of this makes any damn sense.” He pointed to the gel packs. “Those don’t belong there and those,” he turned and pointed to the mess inside both consoles, “shouldn’t look like a skinless Gaqex weasel built a nest in there.” He nodded at the scorch marks along the other consoles. “And look at the damn scorch pattern on those. Who the hell in their right mind fires a damn fusion weapon less than ten feet from the main engine?”

  Askon’s antennae twitched and turned in opposite directions. “I doubt an invading party would be terribly concerned about where they would be using their weapons.”

  “They ought to be,” Warrick said. He pointed to the main engine coils. “One stray blast and the whole ship would go up like a Valmoin supernova. That’s the real problem with the gel packs. Superconductive to the nth degree. They’re basically little bombs that could go off the minute somebody lights a damn match near a gel pack.”

  Askon’s antennae drooped, but he didn’t say anything.

  “Except there’s no sign anyone got off any shots near the engines,” Warrick said. “Hell, like I said, the damn pipelines don’t even have so much as a scratch on them.” He ran a hand over his chin. “And somebody went through the trouble of pulling out all the gel packs and not a single stray shot hit them? There’s frackin’ piles of them. Not a scorch mark within two feet of any of them. Not one.”

  Askon’s antennae straightened as he followed Warrick’s theory. “You’re suggesting the damage here was possibly self-inflicted?”

  “Self-inflicted.” Warrick grunted. “Sure. Let’s call it that.”

  “You can’t be certain of that.”

  Warrick pointed to the gel packs. “Those didn’t end up there all by themselves. They didn’t sprout legs and just walk out. And the damage in these consoles isn’t natural decay over an extended period of time and it sure as hell isn’t from any fusion blasts. These are all surface shots.”

  “This vessel is over five hundred years old,” Askon pointed out.

  “Sure. At some point five hundred years ago, somebody thought it would be a good idea to purposely depower this ship and then go out of their way to make sure that nobody was going to accidentally turn all the power back on.”

  Askon’s antennae turned to face each other. “That’s certainly a…theory, Commander.”

  “It’s not a damn theory,” Warrick said. “I’ve spent enough time around space wrecks to know when it’s a legitimate disaster or not. This,” he twirled his finger around to indicate engineering, “has all the makings of being done on purpose.”

  Askon’s antennae twitched uncomfortably. “I don’t know that I can agree with your hypothesis.”

  “Fortunately then, I outrank you.”

  Askon paused and his antenna dipped forwards. “I don’t think that’s how that is supposed to work.”

  “Sure it is. Right, Nax?”

  There was no response from Nax.

  Warrick frowned and looked around, suddenly realizing that his friend wasn’t anywhere in the immediate green glow. “Nax?”

  Again there was no response.

  Warrick turned to Askon. “Where the hell is he?”

  “I have no idea,” Askon replied.

  “When was the last time you saw him?”

  “Shortly after we entered engineering.”

  Warrick checked the time. “Shit. That was almost fifteen minutes ago.” He looked suspiciously at Askon. “You haven’t seen him or heard from him since?”

  Askon didn’t blink. “I’m afraid not, Commander and I would like to point out, before you go any further, neither have you.”

  Warrick muttered something under his breath. “Nax!” he shouted. There was no response. He double tapped his earpiece. “Warrick to Nax?”

  There was no response over the communicator.

  “Where the hell did he go?” Warrick asked. “Where the hell could he go?”

  Warrick took a step towards the main engine coils, glancing around them. His flashlight didn’t immediately illuminate anything of note in the darkness. He looked back at Askon. “Double back to the entrance. Maybe he fell down an open conduit.”

  Askon glanced nervously back at the darkness on the other side of the green glow.

  Warrick fished out a few extra glow sticks and tossed them to Askon. “Here, make sure you don’t fall down the same open conduit.”

  “Thank you,” Askon replied, twisting the glow sticks and then disappeared back into the darkness.

  “Nax, you orange bastard, you better be hurt,” Warrick said, heading towards the section of engineering that was located on the other side of the coils.

  The further Warrick got from the main engine coils, the shakier the floor panels became. Under the dim lighting of his flashlight he was able to make out more damage that looked suspect.

  He paused near a fallen pylon. It was laying across the path, neatly bisecting what appeared to be a data core access panel in the opposite wall. Warrick looked around, trying to figure out where the pylon had fallen from. He spotted its original location about six feet above. It appeared to have been supporting a second deck or possibly a catwalk.

  Warrick double-checked the angle of the pylon and then back up to where it was supposed to be. He shook his head. “How does it even make it down here like this? That’s not bloody possible.”

  There was a noise to his left.

  It was a soft noise, as though someone was coughing. But in the quiet stillness of the ship, it startled Warrick to the point he actually jumped a little.

  He whipped his flashlight around to find Nax huddled off in a corner.

  Warrick swore a Draeddur oath under his breath. “Nax, you orange bastard, what the hell are you doing over there?”

  Nax didn’t respond.

  Warrick frowned and stepped over the pylon, ducking a little so as to avoid the dangling wires.

  “Nax?”

  The helmsman didn’t react to Warrick’s voice. He stood in the small corner, his arms braced against the wall, almost as though it was attempting to close in on him.

  “Nax, what the hell?” Warrick asked.

  Natuzzi had no sweat glands. Nor did they have any tear ducts. In fact, they didn’t excrete any bodily fluids beyond that of what they personally consumed.

  And yet, if Warrick hadn’t known this, he would have sworn his friend was sweating.

  “Nax?”

  Finally, Nax turned to face Warrick, as though just now noticing him.

  His eyes were wide and his pupils were dilated. His arms were clearly trembling slightly as he pressed them against the wall.

  Up close, Warrick was able to see that Nax’s normally bright orange skin had taken on a duller, almost matte-like complexion. He was trying to remember the last time he had seen Nax like this, and he came up blank.

  “Aw, brother,” Warrick said, reaching for him. “What the hell is going on?”

  Nax shook his head, pulling back from Warrick’s outstretched hand. “No.” His voice was unusually shaky.

  “Nax-”

  “Stay back,” Nax snapped. Then he added, more softly, “Please forgive me. I…do not feel like myself.”

  “You don’t much look like yourself, either,” Warrick said. “In fact, you look like shit.”

  Nax winced. “Yes, that seems like an adequate description of my current state.”

  “Now I know something’s wrong,” Warrick said. “Last time I said you looked like shit you nearly clocked me one. What’s going on?”

  Nax took a deep breath and his whole body shuddered. “I’m…not certain.” He spoke with an obvious effort, as though it pained him to utter every single word.

  “Don’t bullshit me right now, Nax,” Warrick said. “We’re in the middle of a saq’un space derelict and you look like you’re about drop dead any second now.”

  Nax exhaled slowly and a tremor ran through his body. “I seem to be having some…difficulty.”

  “No. Shit,” Warrick said.

  Nax pulled his hands away from the wall, flexing his fingers in and out of a fist as they came to a rest at his side. “As I’m sure you recall, I, like all other Natuzzi, have an excellent sense of direction.”

  “Right. Sure. Your sense of universal harmony. You always know where you’re located in the galaxy,” Warrick said. “Great trick.”

  Nax winced. “As I’ve explained to you, it is not…a trick.”

  “I can rig up a nadion array and a linear databank discriminator that basically does the same thing,” Warrick said. “It’s a cool trick.”

  Nax winced again, but couldn’t be bothered to muster up any real offense. “Since boarding this vessel, I have…lost that sense of direction.”

  “What the hell does that mean?” Warrick asked.

  “I’ve been experiencing a…disorienting of some kind,” Nax said. “I no longer have any true sense of direction. I feel…blind.”

  Warrick reached up to double tap his earpiece. “I’m calling the doc.”

  “Wait.”

  “Nax, there’s a reason Dheer’s on the team.”

  “You don’t understand.”

  “No kidding,” Warrick said.

  “That’s not all.” Nax took another unsteady breath. “I keep seeing her, Jaxson.”

  Warrick paused, arching an eyebrow. “Who?”

  Nax swallowed, fighting to control the tremble in his arms. “Grace.”

  18

  There was nothing impressive about the door. In fact, if they hadn’t been looking for it, they probably would have ignored the door altogether.

  Keane rapped his knuckles against the door’s dusty surface.

  “Expecting someone to answer?” Dheer asked, pulling out her scanner.

  “It would save us a lot of trouble,” Keane replied.

  The scanner didn’t show anything new. It was the same data the ship’s sensors had gathered. There were no other life signs on the other side of the door. “You’re going to be disappointed.”

  Keane winced and rubbed his left hip.

  “What’s the matter?” Dheer asked, immediately moving closer to get some readings.

  “I’m fine,” Keane said, pushing her back. “It’s just a little sore. I haven’t walked this much lately.”

  “I told you, you shouldn’t be here,” Dheer said.

  “I don’t think we have to worry about me being out of shape,” Keane replied. “That’s not the sort of thing that’s going to get us all killed.”

  “Again, it’s not the rest of us I’m worried about.” Dheer moved her scanner closer to Keane’s leg.

  “Stop it.” Keane moved out of her way, leaning against the wall for support.

  “You’re literally leaning against the wall so you don’t fall over.”

  Keane took a step back and held up both hands away from the wall. “Better?”

  Dheer just shook her head.

  “As long as Warrick gets the main power up and running, I’ll be fine,” Keane said.

  “How do you figure that?”

  “Well, if he gets the main power back I don’t have to hoof it all the way back to the shuttle,” Keane said. “There’s got to be at least one lift around here that’ll get us in the general ballpark of the airlock.”

  “And if he doesn’t get the power back?” Dheer asked, adjusting a setting on her scanner.

  “Then I’ve suffered worse,” Keane replied. “I won’t like it, but I’m pretty sure I can handle the hike back.”

  Dheer frowned. “At least that’s one of us.”

  “Lieutenant, I think I’ve got something over here,” Grell said.

  Keane grabbed his cane from against the door and hobbled around Dheer.

  “I can’t believe the captain actually let you leave the ship in this condition,” Dheer said.

  The door was about six feet wide. Large enough to move several oversized cargo containers through it, if it was open. Grell stood on the far right side of the door, hunched over a panel emitting a soft white glow.

  “Looks like Warrick was right,” Grell said, pointing to the panel. “This room definitely has power.”

  Keane glanced at the panel and then around the darkened corridor that surrounded them. Outside of the dim lighting in the tunnel, this was the first sign of any power in the ship, besides the basic life support systems.

  Keane turned back to the panel. There was a single, white icon visible. It was two half circles stacked back-to-back.

  “Look familiar?” Keane asked.

  Grell shook his head. “Can’t say that it does.”

  Keane looked over his shoulder at Dheer. She shook her head, not even bothering to look up from her scanner.

  “Alright. Well, we came all this way. Might as well see what happens,” Keane said, reaching for the panel.

  Dheer took two steps back.

  “That inspires confidence,” Keane said.

  “You’ll feel more inspired when you need me to keep you alive,” Dheer replied.

  Keane rolled his eyes and gently tapped the panel.

  Immediately the icon disappeared and was replaced with a nine-panel input screen. Each panel contained a different combination of the two half circles.

  “Okay, so it’s a lock,” Keane said.

  “And how do you figure that?” Dheer asked.

  He pointed to the door. “It didn’t open and common sense says I’m gonna need to input a code on that.”

  Dheer studied the nine-panel grid. “Any ideas?”

  Grell randomly tapped a few of the tabs in the grid. The panel flashed red and the door didn’t open.

  Dheer frowned and folded her arms. “Any other ideas?”

  Grell shrugged. “It was worth a shot.”

  “Not really.” Keane placed his cane against the wall next to the panel. “I did a few years at the Earth embassy on Drosie.” He pressed his fingers along the edge of the panel, looking for any separation. “The Bulrara monks there had a very interesting philosophy towards codebreaking.”

 

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