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= NEBULA EXPRESS =

a DarkSF novel

by John Argo

Page 11.

Chapter Six

The Bridge CP or Command Post did not respond to Ridge and Tomson's urgent attempts to obtain guidance. Time and again, they tried to raise Captain Venable or anyone in the CP, to no avail. There were several antique, scratched wall screens in various parts of the work area, and they powered up easily enough, but all they yielded was either a white blankness or a greenish, grainy static. Sometimes, there would be a black screen with irregular, faint bluish sine waves undulating in apparently random patterns. Never was there a written or spoken, or a talking head; just endless cryptic silence.

"What are we doing here?" Jerez said with a pale face, embracing herself with pudgy arms and shivering. Her eyes looked large and scared, and she spoke for everyone. At times, Mughali seemed very strong as she bantered with Mahaffey or Yu, and at other times she might sit in a corner sobbing.

Tomson had definitely assumed his place as Ridge's second in command, and Ridge was grateful for the support. At times he wished Tomson would just take over, period, but the tall dark-skinned man seemed too smart to pick up that load. "What have we gotten ourselves into here?" Tomson would say at odd moments, examining the dusty and half-ruined work area to which a crisp and chipper Captain Venable had sent them just hours earlier.

Brenna found the clothing of several lost workers tossed in a heap near the rear exit that led into endless yawning night. The uniforms were torn and bloody, and thrown haphazardly among the rail ties leading into other industrial areas of the ship. The discarded web straps were frayed and severed as if something with great force had chewed through them. "There is no sign of any bodies," Brenna said with a gloomy expression on grayish-brown shadowed features. The lovely lines of her face looked moody and shadowed, as if inked along with the onyx of her large, weeping eyes. It was the first time that Ridge ever touched her, standing beside her, putting one arm around her. Her shoulder briefly nudged against his ribs before they both pulled away. Nobody had noticed, since the others stood at an angle before them in the tunnel with its single yellow light in a wire cage above.

"Could be Caulfield's shift," Tomson said as he squatted to touch several pieces of torn and bunched khaki cloth. He lifted a piece and sniffed it. "Still smells of blood and sweat--mostly sweat, sour with fear." He made a distasteful expression and tossed the cloth down. He rose. "Ridge, let's get it over with and go back to WorkPod01."

"Agreed," Ridge said. He looked at his chronometer. "Thirty two hours left in our obligation before the next shift comes here."

"Shouldn't we warn them not to?" Lantz said. She undid her ponytail and tightly rewound it.

"We're trying to raise the CP," Ridge said. He worried about hysteria spreading among his seven charges; or worse yet, that he might succumb to the irrational desire to bolt and start running madly in the direction of WorkPod01. Remembering the fate of the man beating on the window with bloody palm prints, it seemed like the worst thing to do.

Tomson seconded: "We're doing everything we can, and it's up to each of us to act cool and remain professional."

Lantz flared back: "You think we aren't being cool and professional?"

"Speak for yourself," Jerez said, defensively wrapping her arms around herself.

For a moment the entire work group stood staring at Ridge, as if on the verge of breaking ranks and leaving. He couldn't blame them, but he hoped he could hold the group together until help or advice or guidance arrived-anything, to break the increasing air of confusion.

Mahaffey spoke up bravely: "I saw a tangle of cables back there leading into the transformer. Until I'm told otherwise, I think I'll go sort that out." He looked at his fellow metallurgic tech, Lantz. "Care to join me?" Lantz nodded with looked almost of relief at getting some direction. Brenna, as Chemical Engineer 1, nodded. "I'm with you guys. Anything to keep busy until someone sends us a signal." She almost smiled, and several people laughed nervously in response.

"Good! That's it," Ridge said. "We have three handguns, and we'll take turns standing watch so everyone's back is covered. I don't know about you, but I hate to sit around and be idle. Let's find and tackle the work that is all around us, crying out to be done. There's obviously been a disaster here, and we need to fix the mess." He almost added "or we don't get home" but that seemed like a ridiculously pessimistic thing to say in this already dire situation. Tomson nodded in agreement near him, and he was quietly grateful for the man's support.

Yu, as Bio-Engineer 1, turned to Jerez, who was a Cyber-Engineer 2. "If you can find us some wetware neural nodes, I might be able to start tracking what's wrong here."

"Good point," Jerez said. She glanced stoutly toward Ridge for approval, but did not seem to be waiting for his go-ahead. "What do you say, Ridge?" even as she and Yu turned to go back into the bowels of the work area. As a Cyber-Engineer 1, Ridge had to agree. "It's as good a plan as any," he told her.

Within a short time, they had full power restored. "Looks like Caulfield was conserving," Ridge said as he paused. He was covered with sweat. He wiped gloved hands over his forehead. Nearby, Tomson cut off a small brazing torch. His dark skin glistened with droplets of sweat. "Man, this place is spooked," Tomson said in a low voice. "Don't let the others hear, but I think it's going to take an army of technicians to get this place working. Maybe that's how the whole ship is."

Ridge laughed nervously. "Come on, you're giving me goose bumps. You know we were safe and sound in our nice warm WorkPod01 just a few hours ago listening to music and showering and stuff. This is strictly nuts."

Tomson looked at him strangely. "You think we're going to get back to WorkPod01 in one piece?"

Ridge felt a dryness in his mouth that belied his own jaunty reply. "Yes I do. Lighten up, Tomson."

"Something dragged off those workers. They wouldn't just leave their clothes lying around, unless you think they went nuts and ran off singing."

"They were here a long time," Ridge said. "The blood and sweat were still fresh, but Caulfield was an old man. The Corporation wouldn't let an old man ship out on the Neptune run, so figure it out for yourself."

"Yeah?" Tomson leaned chin-forward and said: "Oh yeah? Then figure this out. We were supposed to be on Triton in one year. Caulfield was a man at least seventy years old when he died there a little while ago heaving half his body organs out of his mouth. You figure that out and tell me when you know the answer." Tomson slipped his brazing goggles back on, making his eyeballs look opaque and inscrutable. They glittered and flashed as his small hand-welder flared back up. He resumed repairing severed wires.

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