SOMNUM EXTERRERI
Christopher L. Smith
Acting Captain Madison Corbeau stood groggily in front of the coffee dispenser, watching the brown liquid flow into her mug. Even after two cups of the stuff, she couldn’t quite shake the lethargy a restless “night” brought on.
The Colony Ship Victoria, now well into its voyage, hummed softly around her. There was some noticeable wear and tear, but nothing that could affect functionality or safety. Humans being humans, mainly. A scuff here, a dent there—all things that could be fixed, buffed out, or repainted, but hadn’t been. It gave the almost sterile-looking surroundings some character.
Madi picked up her mug, running her thumb down the hairline crack in the ceramic handle. Flaws and blemishes made the Vic feel more like a home. Home felt comfortable, and the human crews needed that comfort when surrounded by the void of space. Especially when you considered that anyone born the day you went into cryo was a senior citizen now.
Madi shook her head to clear the tendrils of darkness slithering into her thoughts.
“That’s not going to help,” she muttered, blowing on the hot coffee.
“It may,” said a voice behind her. “That’s actually pretty good stuff. Kona, if I recall correctly.”
Madi turned to see Dr. Ronald Noe, the medical officer, standing in the galley doorway, a small grin playing across his olive features.
“We’ll see,” she said, with a wan smile of her own. “Third time’s a charm, right?”
Doc took a mug from the rack, punched buttons on the machine, and waited for his own cup of caffeine. He studied Madi’s face carefully. At five foot ten, he stood eye to eye with her. Of all the crew, only Iain Jones stood taller, and then just slightly.
“How long has it been since you’ve gotten a good night’s sleep?” At her slight start, he chuckled. “Dark circles under your eyes, which are a little on the bloodshot side, as well. Skin paler than normal. Slight tremor in your jaw, most likely from too much caffeine in a short span. It’s my job to notice these things.”
“Couple of days,” Madi said. Technically, they were cycles, but the crew had fallen back on traditional nomenclature. “Days” began when you woke up, “nights” when you racked out. “Probably nothing, it’s just a few bad dreams.”
“Hm. Maybe. We should run a diagnostic on your implant, just to be sure.”
Madi nodded. The implants were still a relatively new technology, at least in how they were being used. Developed in the early twenty-first century to help memory loss in Alzheimer’s and traumatic brain injury patients, the “black box” had proven useful in other aspects as well. For the crew and passengers of the Vic, they were designed to counteract long-term brain function deterioration due to cryostasis. Early test subjects showed positive results for long-term stasis, but nothing on the scale of the colony ships. Still, the projected risk was low, less than a possible tenth of a percent failure. With ten thousand “sleepers” plus two hundred and fifty crew, it was an acceptable risk.
“Will do,” Madi said. “I’ll come down after my day’s over.”
Her “day” had become routine, which was a good thing.
Excitement in THIS work environment usually means something terrible and life-threatening. Give me routine every day, please, thank you, and Amen.
Bad dreams and lack of sleep aside, Madi was able to get into the rhythm of her duties quickly: reading the daily reports from the other crew, doing a quick overview of the ship’s functions and stores, preparing and logging her brief for the ship’s records. While it wasn’t an official duty of hers, she also preferred to check on the passengers and crew in stasis, running an internal diagnostic program of her own design to check for any fluctuations outside of normal range.
The ship’s AI had a similar system built in, but she didn’t see the harm in watching the watcher. Her code was simple, disconnected from the main programming of the ship, and stored on an external drive. It had taken her several months to get it to her liking; when there’s not much to do after work and you’re going to be on duty for a year and a half at a time, hobbies were important.
Madi inserted the drive and ran the program, idly watching the report scroll by on her tablet at her standard reading speed. For ease in skimming, she’d designed the diagnostic to color code the entries: green for well within range, yellow for borderline, and red for out of range. To keep things interesting, she’d included code to pull a photo in real time of each sleeper.
Looking good, as usual. All greens so far.
Wait.
It had taken her a second to process it, but her eye latched on to a single red line as it disappeared at the top of her screen. She tapped the tablet, halting the scroll, and swiped up. And swiped again. And again. Nothing but green.
“That’s weird, I could’ve sworn . . .” she muttered. A flicker in the corner of her eye caught her attention. She snapped her head around, focusing on the far side of the room, finding nothing. With a shrug, she turned back to her tablet.
She cancelled the program, ejected the drive, and examined it. Nothing out of the ordinary, same as always. She re-inserted it and started over, this time paying closer attention.
“There! Dammit!” She’d been too slow again, just missing the line as it scrolled past. Backtracking, the display showed nothing but green. Another hint of movement, this time from the other direction, played at the edge of her vision. Again, however, there was nothing there.
“Ugh. I’m seeing things, or there’s a bug in the code,” she said. A quick glance at the clock showed it was quitting time. She’d go through the program later, after a good night’s sleep. “Time to go see the doc anyway.”
Madi entered the Medical Bay, noting in passing that it hadn’t been subjected to the “nesting” impulse like the rest of the Vic. It remained as pristine and sterile as the day it was built. Which, upon further thought, was more comforting than the alternative.
She waved to Doc Noe and took a seat in the chair. Designed to handle any minor medical procedure, the device resembled an old-time dentist’s chair, able to convert from standing, to sitting, to supine, or anything in between. Doc Noe had it currently configured for a seated patient, for which Madi was secretly grateful. She felt more relaxed in this position, rather than lying down, when someone was messing with her head. She supposed it had to do with feeling less helpless, but she didn’t know for sure.
“All right,” Doc said, gently attaching the pads to her forehead, “let’s make sure everything is running right.”
The implants were read-only, allowing the ship’s AI and human crew to monitor the sleeper’s theta rhythms while in stasis. The implants still ran, albeit in a passive mode, when the owner was out of cryo, recording memories to incorporate into the unit’s database. A malfunction could, in theory, cause a range of issues anywhere from mild amnesia to complete dementia.
Fortunately, the Vic’s AI was constantly monitoring every unit, and if worse came to worst, the Med Bay was equipped to handle anything up to major trauma.
“Thingy in the brain . . . thingy in the brain . . . built by a genius, to keep us all sane . . .” Doc sang softly. Madi recognized the tune but couldn’t quite place it.
A few minutes of relative silence later, he looked up from the holoscreen and smiled.
“Everything looks good, Captain.” He removed the sensor pads, wiped them with a disinfectant, and stored them. “My suggestion is to have a hot shower, a small glass of your favorite tipple, and read something bland but not work-related about an hour prior to racking. More than likely, you’re just experiencing mild anxiety due to the job, and it’ll pass with time.”
Madi nodded absently, frowning slightly. What he said made sense, but that glitch earlier still bothered her. Was it just fatigue? Part of her mind said yes, of course it was, but another, quieter part kept whispering it was real.
“If the dreams persist, though, over the next two days,” he continued, “come back in and I’ll give you a sedative. Can’t have She Who Must Be Obeyed running on fumes, can we?”
“You got it, Doc.” Madi stood up and headed to her quarters.
One of the good things about having only a handful of humans awake at a time was that living space was at luxury levels. Each crew member had their own berth, with private bathrooms and plenty of legroom. Another perk: all the hot water you could want. After about twenty minutes of showering, she felt slightly guilty, but then shrugged.
Doctor’s orders, she thought, sighing as the knots in her shoulders loosened. Five minutes later, she looked at her pruned fingers. However, there is too much of a good thing.
She reluctantly shut the water off and stepped out, burying her face in the soft terry cloth of her towel. It was warm, smelled clean, and brought happy memories of her childhood. She swore she could just make out the faint scent of rose water, her mom’s favorite perfume. It was enough to make her lower the towel and take a quick glance around the steamy bathroom.
You’re being ridiculous, Madi thought, as she turned toward the sink. Mom’s gone, has been for . . .
Her mother’s face smiled at her from the foggy mirror.
Madi screamed as her knees buckled. Stars flashed in front of her eyes, then the world went black.
“Dammit, Doc, I know what I saw!” For all the force Madi put into her words, doubt gnawed at her.
“I know you believe you saw your mom, Madi,” Doc said gently, “but think about it. Is it more likely that she was really there, or a side effect of mild sleep deprivation?”
He’d run the implant diagnostic again, with the same results. Nothing out of the ordinary, and the unit was operating as designed, passively recording in short spurts throughout the day.
It had seemed so real, though, not just a minor hallucination from a sleep-deprived brain. She’d looked exactly as Madi had last seen her—long brown hair pulled back into a ponytail, blue eyes shining warmly as she smiled. The steam from the shower had diffused the light from the fixture, giving the image a nimbus around it, concentrated in a loose circle over her mother’s head.
“Logically, I know the answer,” Madi said. “Thing is, Doc, I smelled her perfume. I saw her face.”
“Do you resemble her?”
“Some, here and there. Her hair was brown, pulled back in a ponytail. Mine’s dishwater blond, and down from the shower. We have the same cheeks and eyes, though.”
“Here’s my educated guess. You mentioned that the dreams you had involved children, correct?” At her nod, he continued, “Your maternal instinct was triggered, subconsciously. Couple that with being tired, and that you were trying to counteract those nightmares with positive thoughts, and you overlay your own reflection with your mother.”
No matter how badly she wanted to wipe the smug grin from Doc’s face, she had to admit that his explanation made sense. There was a chance that it could be technical, as well. The mirror could double as a simple HUD, a display projecting simple info holographically. She normally used it to check her weight, read reports or books while on the toilet, or listen to music while showering. A minor glitch could’ve distorted the image slightly, letting her brain take over from there.
“You may have a minor concussion,” Doc said. “Nothing presenting at the moment, but to be safe, I’ll need to monitor you over the next few days.
“Let me know immediately if you notice any symptoms, like increased irritability, dizziness, or nausea. Generally, we include trouble sleeping in that list, but I think in this case it’s redundant. It does mean I can’t give you a sedative without constant monitoring, however. Sorry about that.”
Madi nodded. Maybe the little bump to the head would clear out the dreams and let her get a good night’s sleep. Maybe.
“That’s all I’ve got for now, boss,” Doc concluded. “Just try and take it easy.”
Madi made a mental note to get Caroline to cover her shift in the big chair for a day. By design, the five-man crew could easily handle the workload, short of a major emergency.
“Trust me, Doc, there’s nothing I’d rather do.”
Madi entered the galley, pleasantly surprised to find Caroline Luze, Nikau Tamati, and Iain Jones having lunch. Caroline turned, panning her personal vid recorder around the room, stopping to focus on Madi before setting it down. The operations specialist had decided to create a video diary of their shifts, “so they’d have keepsakes for their children.”
“Excellent, you’re all here,” Madi said, grabbing a bottle of water from the dispenser. “Had a minor fall earlier, and Doc needs me on light duty for the next day or so.”
“Oh?” Caroline looked worried. “What happened?”
Madi waved the question off. “Just wasn’t paying attention when I got out of the shower, slipped, and bumped my noggin.”
No need to elaborate. Thinking the boss is seeing things isn’t good for morale.
“Take all the time you need,” Caroline said, nodding. She tapped a few keys on her tablet, bringing up the crew’s schedule. With another tap, she brought up a holo display over the table. “I’ll handle your load. Jones and Tamati, you two figure out the rest of it.”
“Aye aye, Cap’n.” Jones crossed his eyes and gave the worst salute Madi had ever seen. Nik snickered, but stifled it quickly after glancing at Madi’s face.
“You don’t look so good, boss,” he said. “You sure it was just a bump?”
“The headache sucks, and Doc is playing it safe,” Madi replied. “But I should be fine. Just having trouble sleeping, is all.”
“Hunh. We were just talking about that,” Nik said. “Seems to be going around a bit.”
That got Madi’s attention.
“All of you?” The others nodded.
She looked closely at each face. She’d missed it at first, but the telltale signs were there. The slightly haggard expressions, dark circles forming under their eyes—all present in varying severity.
“Right, new plan. Everyone get to the Med Bay before reporting to your stations. I want Doc to give you all a thorough exam including implant diagnostic. Understood?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Caroline and Nik said, in unison. Jones grimaced.
“Problem with my orders, Jones?”
“It’s nothing, boss, just a little insomnia.” He shrugged. “Used to get it all the time, especially after . . . well, after she died.”
“Jones, we’re halfway through this trip, we still have a year left on our shift, and four out of five of us are experiencing the same issue,” she said, frowning. “I need to know if there’s a deeper problem here, got it?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said.
“Good. I’m racking out. Keep her flying.”
Madison leaned back in her chair, pressing her palms to her eyes with an exasperated grunt. As tired as she felt, her brain wouldn’t let her relax until she’d examined Doc’s reports. They showed that the crew’s tests, like hers, had shown no issues with the implants.
To make matters worse, she had gone over her program in the interim, only to find nothing out of the ordinary. The glitch, if there was one, wasn’t in her code.
On the plus side, she hadn’t had another hallucination, and the acetaminophen had reduced her headache to a barely noticeable throb. She stretched, massaged her shoulders for a moment, and looked at her bunk.
I can go over the code again, or double-check the reports—maybe there’s something I missed . . . The quiet voice in the back of her mind made more excuses. She shook her head and sighed. No, she needed to try and rest. The Vic was her responsibility, and she couldn’t perform her duties looped out from sleep deprivation. But still . . .
Dreams or no dreams, she had to sleep. She clenched her jaw, closed the screen, and got in her bunk.
“Jesus Christ, what now?” Madi groggily shook off the lingering nightmare and stared at the wall display. Children’s cries merged into the buzz of the alarm, fading as she came fully awake. Well, four hours sleep is something, I guess.
Adrenaline hit her system as her brain caught up with her eyes. She jumped up and keyed the comm.
“All hands! All hands! Environmental failure in corridor seven! This is not a drill!”
She scanned the readout, looking for any additional information. An environmental failure could be any number of things, all bad.
Hold on . . . She forced the panic from her mind and took a closer look at the screen. After a second, she hit the comm again.
“Stand down, all crew stand down and await further orders.”
Corridor seven ran parallel with the “keel,” but close to the centerline of the ship. Any hull breach would show on several other compartments, corridors, and service passages as well as seven. The screen showed nothing out of range for any others. She tapped a few keys, bringing up a different level of diagrams.
Aside from the minimal life support requirements and electrical, seven had nothing but IT cabling and nodes.
Last I checked, fiber optics don’t leak and if they did, a few stray photons wouldn’t trip an environmental alarm.
“Caroline, meet me in seven, full-breach protocol.”
It was likely nothing, but no reason not to be prepared.
“Aye aye.”
Madi shrugged into her environmental suit, sealed up, and made her way to seven. Caroline arrived shortly after. The other woman looked rough, to be blunt.
“Caroline, you okay?”
“Yeah, boss, just a little run-down.” Caroline said. The woman’s looks made lies of her words, however. The bags under her eyes had grown deeper, and her face looked drawn and more pale than usual.
It was the eyes themselves, however, that really gave Madi pause. The word “haunted” came to mind, but it was more than that. They darted around constantly, as if looking for something that wasn’t there. Even when Caroline was speaking to her, it felt like she was looking through her.
“You look more than just ‘a little run-down,’” Madi said, “and I need the truth here.”
“I said I’m fine,” Caroline snapped. At her reaction, her voice softened. “Sorry boss. I’m good, really.”
Madi nodded, then gestured broadly at the hallway.
“I’m not getting any environmental readings out of range here, are you?”
“No, ma’am. Nothing here except computer stuff, anyway.” Caroline tapped her tablet, bringing up the “x-ray” display of the corridor. The tablet could, using the AI’s internal mapping protocol, see through the walls, layer by layer.
She began sweeping the tablet slowly across the panels in front of her, looking for anything that could have triggered the alarm, muttering as she did so.
“LAN cable, power cable . . . that’s a network node.” She moved up the corridor as she worked. “Ductwork shows no issues . . .”
Madi fired up her own tablet, focusing on the opposite wall. Like Caroline, she wasn’t seeing anything out of the ordinary. She noticed, but mainly ignored, Caroline’s movement in her periphery, maintaining her concentration on the tablet screen. Several minutes passed.
“Argh, this is like looking for a needle in a stack of needles,” Madi said. Halfway down her side of the wall, and still nothing. Caroline’s shadow caught the edge of her right eye. “You find anything?”
“Nada, boss,” Caroline said, her voice coming down the corridor from Madi’s left.
Wait.
Madi whipped her head around to look at the other woman. Caroline, still scanning her side, had made it to the midpoint of her wall, in the opposite direction.
Madi turned slowly back to her right.
“Please don’t be Mom,” she whispered.
It wasn’t.
A vaguely humanoid form floated several feet away, surrounded by a nimbus of dim light. It slowly continued to coalesce, the outline becoming more distinct as the seconds passed. The nimbus grew brighter, curving upward at the sides of the figure, vaguely resembling wings. Madi stared, unable to tear her gaze away. She realized her mouth hung open.
“Holy Christ!” Caroline’s shout broke through Madi’s stunned fugue. “What the hell is that?”
Madi slowly moved backward, raising her tablet in front of her. Whatever was in the corridor, it didn’t register on the schematic.
“Caroline, do you have your recorder?”
“Y-yes.”
“Good, get this on tape.”
“Way ahead of you, boss.”
When Madi reached Caroline’s position, she stopped. The figure had continued to form, becoming clearer, but only from the mid torso up. She had vaguely Asiatic features—the large, almond-shaped eyes and high cheekbones suggesting Thai or Filipino ancestry. Her clothing, what could be seen of it, looked like a standard-issue crew jumpsuit.
For a brief moment, the image became eye-searingly bright, then disappeared. Madi blinked several times to adjust to the regular lighting of the corridor.
Her comm crackled in her earpiece.
“Boss, we’ve got a situation,” Doc said. “Need you in the Med Bay.”
“On my way.” Madi looked at Caroline “Get this sorted. Ghosts or no ghosts, got it?”
“Aye aye, ma’am.”
Madi keyed the comm as she made her way to the Med Bay.
“Sit rep, Doc.”
“Jones and Nik had an altercation, Nik’s here for minor contusions and dislocated jaw. Not sure where Jones is now.”
Keying off, she picked up her pace.
“Shit,” Madi growled. “Just what I need.”
Once in the lift, adrenaline and weariness took its toll. She shifted back and forth, knowing the trip wasn’t taking any more time than usual, but unable to shake the feeling of sluggishness.
“Finally,” she whispered, as the doors slid open. A quick check of the corridor showed no Jones, so she hurried to the Med Bay. Doc was wrapping Nik’s jaw and head with a flexible bandage, giving him instructions as he worked.
“Looks like protein shakes for a few days and try not to talk much. The main thing is to keep it as immobile as you can. Okay?” Tamati gave him a thumbs-up. Doc turned to Madi. “Good, you’re here.”
“What happened?”
Doc handed Nik a tablet, making a writing motion with his other hand. Madi crossed her arms, understanding why it had to be done, but hating that it had to be done. She took a closer look at Tamati while she waited.
Nik’s shaggy brown hair, which normally fell in front of his eyes, was now held back by the bandage. Aside from the jaw, Nik’s nose was bloody, and he had a black eye forming.
A few moments later, Doc took the tablet back, and read what Nik had written.
“Saw Jones standing at a station, walked up behind him and tapped him on the shoulder. Not sure who he thought I was, but he immediately spun and swung fist. I wasn’t ready, caught me on the jaw. Knocked me down. Kept swinging before I could roll away.”
“Did you see where he went?” Madi asked.
Nik shook his head slowly, wincing.
“Dammit, we need to find him, Doc.” She keyed the comm. “Caroline, what’s your status?”
“Still looking for something wrong in seven,” Caroline replied. “Big goose egg. No ghosts, though, so that’s good.”
“Be aware, Jones attacked Nik, and is at large. Definitely hostile, possibly delusional.”
“Oh fantastic.”
“Keep at it,” Madi said, “There’s got to be something there.”
“Aye aye.” Madi killed the comm.
“Ghosts?” Doc raised an eyebrow.
“Fill you in later, we need to find Jones,” Madi said. “We can use the security feed in the control room. Nik, lock the door behind us and stay here.”
A minute later, and out of breath, Madi punched up the ship’s internal camera feeds. With over one hundred cameras onboard, it was an overwhelming task.
“This is going to take a while,” Doc said, over her shoulder. “Where do we start? He could be anywhere by now.”
“We’ll start with the most obvious places first,” Madi said, tapping keys. “Quarters, connecting corridors . . .”
With a sudden patch of static, multiple feeds switched, bringing several views of Jones on screen.
“Whoa,” Doc said, “lucky guesses.”
“I didn’t do that.” Madi held up a hand, forestalling any further comments, concentrating on the videos. “He’s in corridor . . . five, I think, heading toward the galley. Let’s go.”
“Hang on a tic.” Doc opened a cabinet, grabbed a hypo, and filled it. “Ready.”
They made their way to the galley, pausing outside the door. Sounds from inside made it clear that Jones was still there.
Madi looked at Doc and raised an eyebrow. He nodded. She triggered the door.
Jones stood, back to the kitchen prep counter, holding a large carving knife. Even from her position, Madi could see his eyes were wild and bloodshot. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days.
“Jones, I need you to take a moment, relax, and put the knife down,” she said, keeping her voice measured and level.
The knife gleamed in the ship’s lighting. Madi knew that it was razor sharp and could slice her from sternum to cervix like it was going through warm butter. Jones held it shakily, likely due to his sleep-deprived state, but that didn’t make it, or him, any less dangerous.
Doc slowly edged his way toward Jones’s right side, keeping his movements slow and nonthreatening, turning his body to keep the hypo hidden. Madi, staying well out of range, worked her way to his left. The crewman’s head swiveled back and forth, trying to track them, each turn growing wilder.
“I can’t, boss, you don’t know what it’s like!” Jones slashed the blade quickly in her direction, more a deterrent than an actual threat. She was still several feet away, and it would take a major lunge on his part to get any closer. “I don’t even know if I’m awake right now. I keep thinking I’ve woken up, only to have another nightmare. Is this real?”
“Jones, trust me, you’re awake. We all are,” Madi said, trying to keep her voice smooth. Jones kept his attention on her, allowing Doc to move closer. “We’re on the Vic, we’re in the galley, and we’re not going to hurt you. There’s a glitch somewhere that’s giving us nightmares, and we’re going to fix it. But you have to put the knife down first.”
The blade wavered slightly, as Jones considered her words.
“I keep seeing them,” he whispered. “The children, the flames—the dreams ooze into my brain, I can feel them slithering in, but can’t do anything to stop them . . .”
He stopped, staring past her, eyes wide. His jaw dropped slightly.
There was something flickering in her peripheral vision, like a light about to go out. Madi turned her head, just enough to focus on it, but keeping Jones in sight.
“Oh, God, not now,” she whispered.
Just off her left hip stood a transparent child, approximately eight years old. A little girl, by the dress, with braided pigtails falling to the center of her back. Madi felt her own mouth fall open as the image smiled, held out her hands, and beckoned toward Jones.
“Becca?” The hand holding the knife dropped to his side as he took a hesitant step forward. “Becca, honey, you shouldn’t be here. You’re supposed to be at home with Mommy . . .”
Doc shot forward, tackling Jones, careful to keep his body away from the blade. The other man fought back as much as possible, but Doc skillfully kept Jones’s arms pinned to his sides. The knife fell to the floor with a soft clank, barely audible over the two men’s grunts.
With a heave, Doc rolled Jones over, taking position on Jones’s back, knees pinning the larger man’s arms. With a smooth, well-practiced motion, he injected the sedative. Madi looked back at the ghostly child just as it flickered out of existence.
“No! Becca, come back!” Jones struggled against Doc’s weight, his movements becoming weaker as the drug took hold. “Please, come back. Daddy loves you . . .”
Doc waited a few seconds more before checking Jones’s pulse. With a nod, he stood up and straightened his coveralls.
“Well, that was different,” he said. “Just to be certain, you saw that kid, too, right?”
Madi nodded, not trusting herself to speak coherently.
“Oh, thank God,” Doc said, sighing. “I was questioning my own mental state for a second. On the plus side, if I am going crazy, I’ve got company.”
Madi walked over to where the child had appeared. A thought nibbled at the edge of her brain, slowly coalescing, but not fully formed. The location of the image was important, but why?
“Gave him enough to keep him down for a while,” Doc said.
“Stand where Jones started, Doc,” Madi said, ignoring him. Doc moved into position. “Now tell me what you see.”
“Table, chairs, you,” he said, shrugging. “What’re you thinking?”
“Not sure yet. Switch spots with me.”
From Jones’s position, she saw the same thing Doc had. Still, there was a nagging thought.
“Anything yet? I do have to get him restrained and back to the Med Bay.” Doc knelt, looked at the ceiling, and clasped his hands piously. “That is, if the universe doesn’t have any other surprises in store?”
Madi unconsciously raised her gaze to follow his and found herself focusing on the holo projector over the table.
“Wait—Doc, don’t move.”
She walked forward, noting the projector’s angle. Where normally it was focused over the table, it was now pointed at Doc’s position. She climbed on the table, aligning her line of sight with the projector.
“Holy shit,” she whispered. “Doc, get Jones secured, then come back here. Bring Nik and Caroline. I think I have an idea about what’s happening.”
Madi looked at the haggard faces of her three remaining crew. She offered a quick prayer that she was on the right track. God only knew how long they could keep it together. If Jones’s reaction was any indication, not very long at all.
“Right,” she said, “I’ve been able to put a few things in place, but there’s still some big gaps. Let’s start with what we know:
“One: we’re all having recurring nightmares. Two: there have been sightings on the ship of, for lack of a better term, ghosts. Three: all diagnostics we’ve run, on various systems, have come back clean.”
“Why can’t we just declare an emergency, and wake the next shift?” Caroline seemed to vocalize what the others had been thinking, judging by their faces. Madi shook her head.
“We don’t know if what we’re experiencing has affected anyone in cryo, if it’s indicative of a major issue we just haven’t found yet, or that it won’t escalate with the next shift,” she said. “I can’t risk the ship’s safety by punting.”
“So where do we start?”
“Let’s talk about the nightmares. Jones mentioned fire, and children. In general, that’s what I’ve been seeing, too. Anyone else?” All nodded. “That tells me the source is the same for all of us.
“Next, the ghosts. Doc, Jones, and I saw Jones’s daughter, right over there. I saw my mom in my mirror. Caroline and I saw a figure in the corridor. These locations all have one thing in common.” Madi pointed to the projector above the table. “Each time a ghost appeared, there was a holo projector or holo-capable equipment nearby.”
“Oh, holy shit,” Doc said, realization dawning on his face. “You think the AI is causing this.”
“Exactly. But what I don’t know, is why.” Madi turned to Caroline. “How much time would you need to fix this?”
Caroline frowned. “By myself? I can’t honestly say. Hell, I don’t even know where to start looking.”
“Okay, we’ll get you some help, then. Get him a list”—Madi jerked her thumb at Doc—“of anyone you think you need. Doc, get prepped for an emergency wake-up of at least four people. Have a psych eval questionnaire ready, too. I need to be sure they aren’t compromised. Also, be ready to put Jones under for the duration.”
“What about me?” Nik mumbled.
“You’re with me. Oh, and Caroline? I’ll need your camera, please. Everyone clear?” At their “aye ayes,” she nodded. “Right, let’s grab coffee and get to work, people, before this gets any worse.”
“Nik, aim the camera at my tablet screen. When I tell you, start recording, and don’t stop until the scroll finishes. Clear?”
“Aye aye, ma’am, but I don’t see how this helps,” he said carefully, still nursing his jaw.
“I’ve got a hunch that a piece of this puzzle has been in front of me the whole time, and I need a second pair of eyes and hands to be absolutely sure.” She loaded the external drive, and brought up the interface, keeping her finger over the run button. “Start filming.”
At Nik’s nod, she tapped the screen. As had happened previously, the screen scrolled all greens, moving past at her normal reading speed.
“There!” Madi pointed at the readout, not touching the tablet. “You saw the red line, right?”
“Yes, ma’am. Can you roll it back?”
“No, we’re going to let it run,” she said. “That’s what the recorder is for. We’ll play it back after it’s through.”
After the diagnostic finished, Madi scrolled up, running back through the list. All green, just like last time.
“That’s odd,” Nik said, frowning. “I know I saw a red line in there.”
“Exactly. Let’s run the video.”
They played the recording, watching carefully as the names rolled past.
“There!” Madi paused the playback, pumping her fist in the air. “Right there, I knew it! Corbeau—one, psychosis—zero.”
“George Holt,” Nik read. “I don’t get it, what could he possibly have to do with all this?”
“Not sure, but whatever’s going on, he’s related. Otherwise, why would the line go from red to green when we scrolled back?”
For emphasis, she rolled the list up to Holt’s entry and thumbnail.
“See? All green.” She zoomed in on her tablet, and checked the recording. “Look at this—the numbers are the same, just in green. He’s way out of parameters. We need to take this to Doc. Hang on . . .”
She scrolled, then zoomed in on the next line down.
“I knew she looked familiar!”
“Hunh? Who does?”
“This woman, she’s the ghost Caroline and I saw in the corridor. Maryanne Suyat.” Madi pulled up a file. “She’s lead of the IT team. No, not just the lead—she’s the principal designer! If anyone on board can fix this, she can.”
Madi stood, pocketed the camera, and headed for the door.
“C’mon, we’ve got to take this to the others.” She hit the door control.
The door opened into Hell. Madi jumped back, crashing into Nik, knocking them both to the floor.
“Jesus Christ!” Nik rolled, regained his feet, and lunged for the button, closing the door. He keyed his comm. “All crew, red alert! Fire in the control room corridor! Repeat, fire in the control corridor!”
Madi stood and ran to the ship’s diagnostic screen. There were no alarms or warning messages—nothing indicative of the raging inferno in the corridor.
“All crew, cancel red alert,” she commed. “Be aware of holographic interference.”
“Are you nuts?” Nik looked like she’d lost her mind.
She slowly walked toward the door, hand extended. After a moment’s hesitation, she placed her palm on the metal surface.
“Do you feel anything? It’s cool. Literally. No heat, whatsoever,” she said, turning back. “I don’t think there’s a fire out there at all.”
“We didn’t hallucinate it.”
“No, but there’s projectors out there. I think we’re on the right track, and something is trying to scare us off.”
“You realize that sounds insane, right?”
“What, if anything, about this situation isn’t? Doc,” she said into the comm, “we need to check on passenger number eight dash six seven dash five three zero dash nine. Holt, George. I think he’s tied to what’s been going on.”
“Why?”
“I’ll explain more later, but his numbers are way out of line for cryo. Check into it.”
“Roger that.”
“Caroline,” she said, switching channels, “put Maryanne Suyat on your list. We need her.”
“Copy.”
A warning light flashed suddenly from the console.
“Oh, crap,” she said, reading the screen. “Someone just accessed the armory.”
There had been a vocal minority on the mission-planning team against taking arms; however, they had been overridden by others, including the crew. They had no reason to expect any contact while in transit, but the new planet was a different story. There was simply no telling how large, hostile, or just generally irritated at having their territory invaded any fauna would be once the Vic arrived. No one going on the trip wanted to be completely defenseless on a new planet, no matter how optimistic the people staying home might be. The prevailing attitude was “better to have it and not need it, rather than the other way around.”
Madi felt a rueful pang at the thought that at least one of the anti’s arguments was correct: someone on the crew would use the weapons against their fellows.
She keyed the “All hands” channel. “Who’s in the armory?” Caroline and Nik came back immediately with “Negative.” Madi waited for Doc. When no answer came, she said, “Doc? Status?”
“Doc is unavailable at the moment,” Jones’s voice came over the comm, oddly calm. “He’ll be having a nap for the near future.”
“Jones,” Madi said, “whatever you’re thinking of, don’t go through with it. We’re getting this fixed, but we need everyone to do it.”
“Oh, don’t worry, Captain, I’m doing my part to fix things, too.” He chuckled softly. “Holt, was it? He’s the key, right?”
Madi closed the channel and turned to Nik.
“Get Caroline and see to Doc. I’ll handle Jones.”
“He’s armed, bigger than you, and psychotic.”
“Yeah, but we need to get the IT team awake. He may still be functional enough to listen to the acting captain.”
“I don’t like it,” Nik said with a frown.
“You don’t have to, it’s an order.”
“Aye aye, Captain.”
She opened the door, ready to face fire, real or imagined. The corridor was clear, no evidence whatsoever of the raging inferno moments earlier.
“Don’t trust your eyes, Nik,” she said. “Not at this point. Now get to it.” She stepped into the corridor.
Madi entered the cryo hold slowly, scanning the room as she made her way down the seemingly endless rows of tanks. She tapped her tablet, bringing up the ship’s map program, her location marked by a slowly pulsing dot. Holt’s tank was up ahead. She’d stopped by the armory first and procured a small caliber pistol. She sincerely hoped she wouldn’t be forced to use the weapon she had holstered behind her back but was willing to do what was necessary.
It would be an easier way to handle it . . . She shook off that particular train of thought, but it kept nibbling at the corners of her mind. Put a bullet in his head, end the threat. Easier than trying to talk him down . . .
Madi clenched her jaw. No. My sidearm is the last resort, not the first choice.
Jones stood over Holt’s tank, locked and cocked pistol at his side.
“So this is him? He’s why?”
“Jones, you’re not thinking clearly. Put the gun down, and let’s discuss this.” It wasn’t hull damage she was worried about, the Vic was built to handle micrometeors, and had several safeguards built in. Not to mention, the cryo hold was in the center of the ship, protected by several decks in each direction. A bullet wouldn’t cause a large-scale structural catastrophe.
The cryo tanks, however, were reasonably fragile. A stray shot could do irreparable damage to the tank, and its occupant. That was a risk she was unwilling to take.
“I heard you tell Doc that he’s the key,” Jones said, keeping her in sight. “I’ve been standing here trying to figure out how and why.”
“We don’t know yet,” Madi said. “But we’re working on it. We’re all at the end of our ropes, though, and can use your help.”
“Help.” He snorted. “What do you think I’m trying to do?”
“I’m not sure, Jones, but killing a sleeper isn’t going to do it.”
“How do you know?” He turned to face her fully. “We’re running on fumes. Seeing things. How do we know anything at this point?”
“We know there’s something wrong in the Vic’s AI. Beyond that, it’s a question mark. Let’s not do anything we can’t take back, though, okay?”
“And there’s the rub,” Jones said, with another snort. “Way I see it, if this is real, we get rid of the problem. If it’s not, and I’m still dreaming, then nothing happens. Win-win either way.”
“I told you before, this is real, we’re awake, and on the Vic. I can prove it, but I need you to trust me, and stand down.”
“Prove it how? I saw Becca. She’s dead, and ghosts aren’t real. So how do you explain that if I’m not still asleep?”
Madi prayed her next move would work. Each of the tanks had a small projector built in, to show the occupant’s vitals via holographic display.
“Vic, I need you to bring up Becca, on my location.”
Madi held her breath. There was no way to know if her hunch would pay off, but it was really all she had, short of shooting Jones.
The seconds crawled past at an agonizing pace. Jones looked around impatiently.
Suddenly, every tank within a ten-foot radius sprang to life, projecting light into the room. Within moments, Becca appeared, in miniature, floating above each one, surrounded by a bright haze. As with Suyat’s image in the hallway, the upswept perimeter gave her an angelic appearance. Madi let out an explosive sigh.
“The Vic is causing the problems, Jones,” she said. “We don’t know why yet, but my gut tells me she’s trying to help us fix her.”
Jones stood, gaping, at the images of his daughter hovering around him. Madi pressed on.
“Real or not, I want you to think of Becca right now. You want to set a good example for her, don’t you?”
“She’s dead, Captain,” he said grimly. “Nothing can change that.”
“You’re right. But how would she feel if she saw you now? Would she be proud of you?”
“No.” Jones’s voice rasped, barely audible.
“Honor her memory. Be the father she saw you as. Be the good man I know you are. Do the right thing.”
Tears flowing down his cheeks, Jones eased the hammer down, and placed the gun on the deck.
Madi approached, retrieved the pistol, and stood. Becca’s image faded, but not before smiling and waving.
“Let’s get back to the others.”
“So let me make sure I’ve got this straight,” Holt said, around a mouthful of food. “You all have been seeing my dreams?”
“More or less,” Doc said.
“Oh God, I’m so sorry.” To Madi’s eye, Holt looked like he hadn’t been resting well either. Which was part of the problem.
“Don’t beat yourself up over it,” Maryanne Suyat said, patting him on the shoulder. “There were a few Murphy-type incidents that had to happen. Sucks that they did, but don’t think we blame you.”
They had brought Holt out of cryo first. Jones had agreed to remain in his quarters, under lockdown, until the situation had been resolved. Fortunately for the crew, as soon as Holt had awakened, the nightmares stopped. Another plus had been that none of the sleepers in cryo, aside from Holt, had been affected. Doc’s psych eval had shown that.
“What caused all this?” Holt asked.
“We’re still trying to find the cause,” Suyat said. “Best we can see, so far, is there was damage to one of the logic gates in the Vic’s solid-state boards. What should have been an ‘and’ gate had somehow fused and become an ‘or’ gate.”
“Can you dumb that down for me a bit?”
“The gate should only function if it was receiving power from two separate inputs. In this case, it failed to a state where it functioned even though it only received power from one input or the other.”
“And take it down one more step, please.”
Suyat sighed, then said, “Wire get melty, no do job right.”
“The failure caused the Vic to go schizo, for lack of a better term,” Doc said. “Fortunately, one personality was actively trying to help us.”
“But how did my nightmares get into your heads?”
“Best we can figure at this point, is that the one of the Vic’s aspects found a back door into the implant programming,” Doc said. “In theory, it was a way for us to diagnose and correct any software failures. In practice, the AI used it to alter our theta rhythms and insert yours.”
“The reason yours were so prevalent,” Suyat said, “is that you weren’t fully in cryostasis. Enough to make the trip physically, but, in a perpetual REM state.”
“And if you hadn’t caught this?”
“Unsure.” Doc shrugged. “But best guess is you’d have come out of cryo completely bonkers, if you came out at all. We’ll need to run more tests before we put you back to sleep, but the initial results look positive.”
“What about the ghosts?” Caroline asked.
“Holograms,” Madi said. “The ‘good’ Vic was trying to lead us in the right direction but running up against its direct interaction protocols. The holos were a way around that. The ‘bad’ Vic didn’t have those protocols but was being held back by the ‘good’ side, and limited in what it could do.”
“That’s why we only saw images of people that could either help, in Maryanne’s case, or comforting, like Becca or my mom. I think Victoria was trying to communicate with us, but like a toddler, unable to express herself beyond simple emotional connections.”
“What my team has found so far,” Maryanne said, “is that the ‘bad’ psyche had figured out how to work within the limits the ‘good’ psyche had enforced. Honestly, had this continued, I think the entire population could’ve been affected, had they lived that long. Any longer, and the current crew could’ve been driven to scuttling the ship and thinking that they were saving us all.”
“Jesus,” Holt whispered. “If there’s anything I can do to help with this, please don’t hesitate to let me know. Last thing I want to do is explain to Saint Peter why ten thousand souls are really pissed at me.”
“Same,” Madi said, standing. “Ms. Suyat, is there anything more you need from me right now?”
“No, Captain, we’re going to repair the hardware, then reinstall the software from our backup. I think we can take it from here.”
“Excellent,” Madi said, heading for her quarters. “I’m going to go get some sleep.”