Project U.L.F. (11 page)

He got up from his chair and began to pace the room, head bowed, watching his feet. The minutes ticked by. Ten. Twenty. The room was silent save for Alan’s footfalls and the tapping of the keyboard.

“We got it, we’re in.”

Alan rushed to Lloyd’s side, retaking his seat, eyes frantically scanning the screen for the information he so desperately wanted. There!—the
Santa Maria
. Lloyd had spotted the ship’s name, too and was already typing in the request that would give him the ship’s coordinates. The cursor blinked twice and Alan feared for a moment that this effort would also prove worthless, but then the screen displayed three numbers. Three huge numbers.

“Where in hell is that?” Lloyd whispered.

Alan looked at the figures and knew one thing instantly. “Whatever that location is, it’s beyond the boundaries of charted space, and that means one thing for certain—it’s not Ionen Prime.”

Alan took out a pen-like implement from his breast pocket and ran it across the screen. “Find out everything you can about that location, and I mean everything. I’ll be back soon.”

“I’m on it, man,” said Lloyd.

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Robert Eller was just tidying up his desk when the voice of the base computer filled his office. “Alan Chambers, head of engineering, is waiting outside.”

“Come in,” Robert said.

He heard the hiss as the door opened and footfalls as Alan approached his desk. He didn’t even look up. “What can I do for you, Alan?” There was no answer. Only when Alan was almost on top of him did Robert look up, and by then it was too late. Alan’s huge hand grabbed Robert’s tie and yanked him out of his chair and half way across the desk.

“What the fuck is going on, Robert?”

“Wha…what are you talking about?” Robert blurted. He wheezed for breath and his hands fought desperately to loosen Alan’s viselike grip.

“Don’t bullshit me, Robert. Where is the
Santa Maria
going? Geoff told me that you’re the guy in charge up here.”

“Can’t you fucking read?” Robert was getting angry in his desperation, “Ionen Prime, just access the mainframe. It’ll tell you.”

“I did, but didn’t your mother ever tell you not to believe all you read? Ionen Prime, huh?”

“Yeah, that’s right.”

Alan threw Robert back into his seat so hard that it floated back a few feet on its anti-grav field.

“If it’s going to Ionen Prime then what the hell are these?” Alan took the pen-like implement out of his pocket again, depressed a button on its side and grabbed a piece of paper off Robert’s desk. He ran the pen across the paper and the numbers that Lloyd had called up on his computer screen were reproduced in a neat line. Robert looked at the numbers and frowned.

“The
Santa Maria
’s destination coordinates,” Alan qualified. “Since when was Ionen Prime beyond charted space?”

“How did you get those figures? The coordinates for Wyatt’s mission were…” Robert stopped, realizing he was incriminating himself.

“Confidential,” Alan finished for him. “You know something.” Alan’s face hardened. “Don’t screw around with me, Robert. Where is the
Santa Maria
going?”

Robert straightened his tie. “I…I don’t know the details. I was just told to brief Wyatt when he was here and not let him out of my sight.”

Alan lunged for Robert again but missed. He stood threateningly over Robert’s desk. “Just tell me where Wyatt’s being sent.”

“The ship is destined for a location beyond Centari Red 603. I don’t know where that…” he pointed to the coordinates, “…is exactly.” Robert looked at his watch, “But you won’t be able to stop the launch now. There’s not enough time.”

Alan looked at his watch. There was only an hour and a quarter before Wyatt’s scheduled launch. He glared at Robert before turning and striding out of his office. Robert walked to the door and shouted down the corridor after him. “You can’t stop it, Alan. It’s too late.” But Alan was already out of sight.

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“What do you know?” Alan asked between breaths as he re-took his seat next to Lloyd.

“Well, those coordinates we looked up are…”

“Beyond the Centari sector,” Alan finished, “Yes, yes. I know. Robert told me as much. Did you find anything else?”

“Yeah. The CSETI have numerous classified documents on that location, of which I was able to access a few. It seems they sent out a search-and-rescue craft to pick up the crew of a stranded mining ship.”

“And?”

Lloyd sighed. “The CSETI won’t touch the place anymore.” He stopped and looked Alan square in the face. “No one came back, Alan. No one at all.”

Alan said nothing, just rose from his chair.

“There’s more you should hear. I checked out all the details of the
Santa Maria
for you as well. She’s provisioned and powered for a routine flight to Ionen Prime, just as the computer suggests it should be. So the crew won’t suspect anything. The thing is, Ionen Prime is well within charted space and the place they’re destined for, as you quite rightly guessed, is not. Even if Wyatt and his crew want to come back, they can’t. They simply don’t have enough power. They’re being dumped, Alan. Dropped on a little piece of hell and left there.”

“It’s Mannheim,” Alan whispered. “Mannheim’s behind all of this.” He turned and walked to the door.

“Where are you going?” Lloyd asked.

Alan turned to look back at him, his face sad. “I have to stop that launch,” he said, “or at least I have to try.” He turned away and disappeared out of the door.

*
  
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Alan ran down the corridor, his heart pounding, speeding the flow of adrenaline around his body. His mind was racing. He realized he couldn’t stop the launch sequence now, it was too advanced, so he was frantically searching for options. If he couldn’t stop the launch then how else could he help his friend and Kate? Both his head and his chest felt like they were going to explode.

Think Alan, think. Think it out
. Then the realization dawned on him. If neither the mining crew or the CSETI team had returned, then that meant there were two ships left somewhere on the planet surface. Both of which would have enough power for the return voyage. He might not be able to stop the launch but he might be able to provide them with a means of getting home. He ran into the nearest speed lift. “Engineering maintenance,” he said.

“Complying,” came the reply.

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“Hey, Alan,” one of the engineers said cheerily as Alan strode purposefully into the maintenance area.

“Do you have any functional portable beacon receivers in here?” Alan asked without returning the greeting.

“We have one that’s to be fitted into the system deck of the
Azimuth
when she arrives, that’s just been given the once-over and checks out okay.”

“Where is it?”

“Over there,” the young man said, pointing, “Just behind Charlie’s work station.”

Alan walked over to the other side of the room and picked up the beacon receiver. It was a small black box with a carrying handle. “Thanks,” he said, turning and walking out of the room.

“Hey! You can’t take that, that’s been allocated to a craft. Alan! Come back! Hey!”

But Alan was already long gone.

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When Alan arrived at the main engineering concourse, the last remaining transport buggy was just pulling off the grid. He chased after it, one hand waving frantically. “Hey! Wait! I need that transport!”

The driver of the vehicle heard his cries and pulled the buggy to a halt, looking questioningly at Alan as he came up beside him.

“I need this vehicle,” Alan said between gasps, “And I need it now. It’s an emergency and I don’t have much time.”

“I’ll run you if you like,” said the driver, “Where are you going?”

Alan thought about it for a second. “Just give me the buggy.”

The driver did as he was told and Alan jumped in, before speeding off down the access tunnel.

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Alan drove the buggy at full speed, willing the tiny vehicle to move faster. Even so, it seemed to take forever to reach bay 12.

When he did arrive, he immediately went to the bay door system panel. The status display informed him that the launch locks were in place. The
Santa Maria
was in the last half hour of launch countdown. He would have to manually override the door locks.

He pulled a bunch of cards from the pocket of his boiler suit and inserted one into a slit at the bottom of the system panel, simultaneously placing his hand on the ID plate. The display read:
Ident accepted—Manual override sequence initiated. Type in authorization code
. Alan furiously punched in the memorized numbers on the keypad next to the panel. When he finished the display read:
Authorization code valid—Launch locks withdrawing. Override will be reversed ten minutes before scheduled launch.
There was a deep rumble as the huge metal shafts slowly pulled out from their runners and then the bay door began to rise.

Alan ran into the bay and ran around the nearest leg of the
Santa Maria
, depressing the switch he found there. He turned and watched as the fifth slender limb descended from the underside of the craft as it had done previously for Wyatt. He walked over to it and stepped inside, looking up as it was retracted back into the great ship.

Inside the ship he stopped, thinking about the old craft he was inside. He needed to put the beacon receiver somewhere Wyatt or one of his crew would easily find it. Where? Where could he put it? The equipment store! Now, where was that? It was so long since he had been in a Caravel class craft that it took him a while to remember the layout of the great ship.

He ran along the nearest passageway, his boots clanking on the grating underfoot. He soon came to a ladder and ascended two floors before getting his bearings and heading off in a new direction. He found the equipment store shortly afterwards.

He opened the hatch to be confronted with an impressive array of weaponry, traps and body armor. Pushing aside two of the chest protectors, he placed the beacon receiver in a small alcove behind them. The chest protectors fell back into place, rocking on their rail. Alan said a silent prayer, hoping that someone would notice the small black box. He looked at his watch. He had five minutes to get out of here. He felt an adrenaline rush. Five minutes was cutting it fine.

He retraced his steps to the entry portal. As he stepped out of it onto the bay floor he could see that the bay door was still open. He looked behind him to see the telescopic arm disappearing back into the ship and heard it lock into place. Then he looked back at the bay door. It was closing! The manual override had been neutralized. He had left it too late. He started for the door, willing his tired limbs to move, to make this one final exertion, but he knew that he wasn’t going to make it. He wouldn’t even get near enough to throw himself under it as it crashed shut. “No!” he screamed, but the shout was futile. The motion of the door seemed painfully slow but he knew that it would beat him.