Fatal Boarding Page 16

  Chapter 16

 

 

  On the way to Grey's stateroom, for no apparent reason, I began to feel better about things. It took a moment to realize the gravity level was returning to normal. In the corridor on the seventh level, I passed two crewmen whispering to each other as they worked in an open electronics compartment. They paused and watched as I passed, then resumed the discussion in low tones.

  I arrived to find R.J. already there. Captain Grey's room was a tidy place with little hints of real life tucked in here and there. A conch shell sat on an end table. A picture of family stood beside it. Two gold medallions mounted in dark stained wood hung on the wall by the door. Certificates of rank hung opposite them. Moderately thick, dark green carpet covered the floor. On the right, two reclining chairs faced a wraparound sofa. The room was L-shaped. A chart table sat in the corner with four chairs. Within the L, there were two complex computer terminals with an odd sliding door between them. I guessed it to be a large, classified document closet. On my left, the door to the bath, and next to it an open closet.

  "Please have a seat over here, Mr. Tarn. Mr. Smith and I have just finished."

  R.J. wiggled fingers at me and rolled his eyes as he passed by on his way out. He left without looking back.

  I sat across from Grey at the clear Plexiglas chart table. For the moment, the Captain seemed to have regained his businessfied persona.

  "Let's get right down to it. We have a lot to cover. First, I'm making you executive officer in Tolson's absence."

  "What?!?"

  "The Doctor assures me Commander Tolson will not be getting back to his old self."

  "Captain, there are at least half a dozen Bridge officers who would expect to take Tolson's place in this kind of situation!"

  "Mr. Tarn, do not disappoint me by suddenly becoming humble. I could give a rat's ass what anyone wants. I know more about you than I ever wanted to. I am picky about staff. Yes, there are others more qualified than you. That's not the point! In case you haven't noticed, we're in deep shit here! I have studied your illustrious service history quite thoroughly. In your 14 years of haphazard service, you have been involved in 82.5 percent more mishaps than the average officer. I don't claim to know why that is. I do know that for some strange reason whenever things really go to shit, you and those around you somehow emerge essentially unscathed. Can you tell me why that is, Mr. Tarn?"

  I sat dumbfounded. "82.5 percent?"

  "The real point is, Mr. Tarn, I need your luck if you can call it that. So it is Commander Tarn after you leave this room, understand?"

  I opened my mouth with nothing to say, and he cut me off.

  "I will inform Bridge personnel of this change immediately, in case there are problems. You will set up in Commander Tolson's office right away. Don't think I'm doing you any favors, Tarn. You will have your hands full from the word go. I'd hoped pulling away from that piece of garbage out there would calm the crew. We will move away, but it will only be a temporary consolation. When word about Tolson's condition starts to leak out, there will be real panic. If any other cases show up, it will become hysteria. People will do anything to get off this ship. You'll have to lock out the escape pods and control them from Security Headquarters. People have been known to go crazy in these kinds of situations and blow hatch covers trying to get away from the danger. You're inheriting an impossible job, Mr. Tarn. When we finally get back to light speed, we'll, of course, be heading directly to Earth. They'll quarantine us in orbit, and rightfully so. We are already transmitting emergency beacons and have been for some time."

  I shook my head in disbelief. "We still have a team searching the ship for Commander Tolson. What do you want me to do?"

  "The story will be Tolson had a heart attack while inspecting a sensor failure in the airlock. God knows I’m surprised Brandon didn’t already give him one. Contact the Doctor and coordinate that with him."

  "Nobody has heart attacks!"

  "It happens. It's rare, but problems do sneak by sometimes. That isn't important. No cover story will last long. The Doctor hasn't had any luck in analyzing Tolson's condition. It will have to be addressed on the DNA level. He can't continue the work alone. A research team will be organized to assist him. He'll recruit some of his own staff and two of the PHDs from Life Sciences. Word will leak out soon after that. The objective is to cover this up until after we move the ship away at 13:00. We have normal gravity, but the auto-controllers are still not functioning. We cannot accelerate any appreciable amount without splattering everyone and everything against the bulkheads. We'll move as far as we can, then stop and reevaluate. By that time Doctor Pacell will have organized his research team. Your worst problems will begin soon after that. Hopefully by then, our situation will be improving."

  Grey pushed back his chair and went to the nearest computer terminal. He grabbed a file folder, returned, and slid it across the table at me and sat back down. "That's the official Ex/O brief. Below the cover sheet are the access codes we both need to know. You must memorize them and destroy the sheet before you leave. There are several other failsafe codes you must create yourself in Security, codes I am not allowed to know. It will also tell you which locked out files in the ship's database are required reading. And, there is one file in particular I must discuss with you now.”

  Grey sat down and leaned back. "We have an important attribute on this ship you are not aware of. The codename is 'Emissary'. The Emissary file is highly privileged information, Mr. Tarn. You may have trouble accepting it."

  "I'm learning to keep an open mind."

  "You'll need it. You’re supposed to have months of training before you receive this info. Only the top two on-boards get it. It goes like this, all exploratory light speed vehicles from Earth carry an extra passenger known only to the Captain and Ex/O. Interface with this Emissary occurs only with the Captain unless the Captain becomes incapacitated. These emissaries are residents from a system near the Dael nebula. They call themselves Nasebians. They are highly advanced, thousands of years ahead of us."

  "Did you just say we are carrying an alien on board?"

  "That's correct. Nasebian emissaries have been provided to all interstellar Earth ships since the first light speed drive system was declared operational. The agreement was actually made several years before that. Their purpose is to prevent us from straying into areas of the galaxy we should not. They keep us from unintentionally imposing ourselves on other civilizations or their properties. They assist us in situations we do not understand. Unfortunately, our Emissary apparently has no previous experience with what is happening to us now. We have not received any help."

  "Where are his quarters?"

  “It’s not shown on ship layouts. It’s beyond that door between the two consoles.”

  "What does he do?"

  "The Emissary remains in personal quarters, almost exclusively."

  "For the entire six months?"

  "Mr. Tarn, Nasebians have a life expectancy of one to two thousand years. Six months to them is like a weekend away."

  "And he spends that time completely alone?"

  "They consider exposure to a race at our level of development to be distasteful. For them, communicating with us is like pretending something that's wrong is actually acceptable. They are repulsed by the idea of exchanging breath with us. They consider solitary time to be a gift."

  "Well, they’re not too advanced to be screwed right alongside us, though.”

  "You're getting the wrong idea. They're benevolent. Don't go applying our ethics and morality to a creature who's thousands of years beyond that."

  "What do they look like?"

  "They are slightly tall. No hair of any kind. Light skinned. The cranium a little large. Big, black slanted eyes and very thin, long arms and legs. Four fingers; one short, three long. They wear robes that hang to the floor."

  "Will I get to meet this individual?"

 
"No, only if something happens to me. Any valid questions you have I will relay at my regular appointments. Remember, we have no authority over this person. They ask for nothing, we demand nothing. Never think of them as a member of the crew."

  "Jesus!"

  "They are an absolute necessity. They have prevented many diplomatic catastrophes."

  "And he's been no help with our problems?"

  "No. If we can provide more data, there may eventually be some help."

  "If something did happen to you, how would I contact him?"

  "You wouldn't. We do not initiate contact. Meetings take place here in my stateroom. Grey looked over in the direction of his terminals. "That door between the control stations opens to a corridor which leads directly to the special quarters. It can only be opened from the other side. As I’ve said, it is not shown on the ship's floor plan. If a meeting is necessary, it will occur through there."

  "How will he know I'm here?"

  "They don't use verbal communication. You can, but they do not."

  "I don't get it."

  "You'll hear it in your head. Telepathy."

  It made me want to laugh. The Captain was playing a kid's game but was dragging it out. The punch line was overdue. The joke wasn't going to work. I left there and abruptly realized I had no idea where I was. This was supposed to have been a star-charting cruise, dull and uneventful. Get my credits and head for the beach. Suddenly it had become a stranding, an untrustworthy layover in space filled with confusion, disease, and foreboding. The future had stopped and wasn't scheduled to start again until 13:00, and even that was a bad bet.