The Void (24 page)

There was no mystery as to where the blood that covered the captain's clothes had come from. The bodies of those who lay before him were shredded, large chunks of flesh ripped from them, their stomachs disemboweled, their throats cut. And the stench, that awful smell.

They had died in horrible ways, only to be dragged here. To become part of this macabre scene. One the captain presided over in silence. Waiting for someone. Waiting for them. He glared at each of the crew of the
Chronos
, his eyes moving over the group, stopping only when they fell upon Captain Gravely.

His mouth moved and one word slipped out in a tortured whisper: “Caroline.”

A shot rang out, the bullet catching him right above his left eye, splattering the mad captain's blood and brains all over the great window behind him. Gravely's rifle clattered along the floor. Her knees buckled and she fell to them, letting out a howl of pain and anger and grief. Jack glanced at her as he removed his computer from his pocket, his fingers dancing across its surface.

“That's eight,” he said to Rebecca. “The captain and seven crew. Should be all of them.” 

Rebecca nodded as he stuffed the computer back in his pocket, though her eyes were on Aidan. He had taken Gravely into his arms, her uncontrolled sobs shaking his body as they rolled through hers. He looked up at Rebecca and Jack. “How did he know her name?” he shouted. “How could he know?”

Jack looked down at them. There was no emotion there. Not anger or pity or empathy. Just indifference. Almost boredom.

“Because,” Jack said, “he's her father.”

*  *  *

It moved through the
Chronos
, walking—if such a thing could walk—in shadow and shade, though in truth, the darkness walked with it.

Reality seemed to shutter as it passed, to shift in and out of focus.

It came to the door of the infirmary, passing through without opening it.

Cyrus stood, watching as it entered. The chaos—shaped like a man, but taller and thinner—came to stand before him.

When it spoke, Cyrus heard it in his mind.

“The vessel is shattered.”

“Release me and I will finish it.”

“No, we wait,” it said, before vanishing. “Another remains.”

Chapter 19

Jack stood over one of the bodies, pressing its flesh against his computer, checking the DNA just to be sure that the crew of the
Singularity
were all accounted for. Aidan still held Gravely and she made no effort to break away from him, though he was fairly certain she was no longer crying.

Aidan looked up and caught Rebecca's gaze. He wanted to grab her, to pull her aside and demand an explanation. She must have seen it in his eyes. Rebecca shook her head, almost imperceptibly, and mouthed, “Not here.” Aidan let it go, but in his mind, that was a promise he intended to enforce.

“That's all of them,” Jack said, as he let the hand of the last victim thud against the metal floor. “Captain and crew accounted for. At least we know there's no one else on the ship.” He sounded almost cheery.

“I think I should take the captain back,” Aidan said.

Jack frowned and shook his head. “No, no, no. We don't have time for that. Look, we get the ship back online and you can do whatever you want. Fact is, I need you.”

“Be that as it may. . .” Aidan began. Captain Gravely stopped him.

“I'm fine,” she said. Aidan looked at her and she saw his mounting protest on the verge of becoming vocal. “I'm fine,” she repeated, this time more forcefully. “Let's just get this over with.” She stood up, straightening her suit as she did. “But, Mr. Crawford, at some point I expect some answers.”

Jack simply looked at her and Aidan felt sure she would get none from him.“Yes,” Aidan said, “if you know what happened here, I think we all deserve an explanation.”

“Why would I know anything?” Jack said. “I'm just here to recover the ship. If you want some explanations, maybe you should ask him.” He pointed to Ridley, who at that moment looked terrified.

“Well . . . ” he stuttered. “It's the sickness, obviously. The worst possible case, I'd say. What else could it be?”

Aidan watched Jack and Rebecca. Jack showed nothing, as he expected. But Rebecca couldn't help but cast a furtive glance in his direction. Aidan knew then; whatever this was, it had nothing to do with the dreams.

Jack rubbed his fingers along the bridge of his nose. “Let's just get to the bridge.”   

No one offered any objection. They backed away from the carnage into the darkened corridors of the ship. Captain Gravely cast one last glance at the man who, in a different world and a different time, had been her father. It was all too much. How he had come to be here? How he had turned into the monster they had found? Where had he and his ship been for the last decade? For now, she felt only sadness and pain.

They walked down the corridors, the darkness as thick as ever, but not as oppressive. Not as ominous. They felt relief that at least they were alone, or that was the lie they told themselves. For they all felt it, the tickle in the back of their brains, the warm breeze caressing their necks like the breath of a lover. The eyes upon them. There was
something
whether they could describe it or not, no longer somewhere in the distance but all around.

Aidan followed Jack. Not that he had to. The vague sense of déjà vu had been replaced with certainty. He knew he had been here before. He knew the bridge was up ahead, around a corner and through a door. Sure enough, they found it. When they entered, the others gasped. Only Aidan wasn't surprised.

The bridge was like any other. Consoles, terminals, video screens. But it was the ceiling that they all stared up at. The entirety was made of glass, or something like it, clear and transparent, the darkness of space shining down upon them from every inch of it. Aidan could almost see the black hole.

“Alright,” Jack said, “let's see what we've got.”

Jack removed his helmet and the others followed. As he did, the lamps built into the shoulders of the suits came on, though they provided no more illumination than those on the helmets. Jack plugged the portable power unit into the console. The lights flickered once and Aidan almost raised his rifle as the shadows of a dozen different creatures momentarily danced long the walls. Then there was a whirring sound as the computers powered up.

“Excellent,” Jack said, gesturing to the console in front of him. “Dr. Kensington, if you would.”

Rebecca sat down and ran her fingers along the screen. The portable unit wasn't large enough to run the entire ship, but it could power the computer system.

“Running diagnostic,” she said.

The computer screens flashed red and Rebecca sighed. “Looks like the engines were fried from the . . .” She trailed off, and Aidan didn't think it was because she couldn't find the right word.

“The jump,” Jack finished.

“Yes, the jump.” Rebecca swallowed deeply and Aidan chuckled to himself. She was a terrible liar. “It looks like somebody tried to re-initialize it and only made it worse.”

Now Aidan was legitimately confused. “Really? How's that possible? It's a relatively easy process.”

“Unless you don't know what you're doing.”

“But every member of the crew would have known. Especially the captain.”

“Well, he
was
out of his mind,” Ridley offered.

Aidan eyed Gravely, but she showed no emotion. “Yes,” he said, “that must be it.” Aidan leaned over Rebecca's shoulder. “What's that?” He pointed down to a flashing icon on the left side of the screen. He had a feeling he knew, but he wanted to hear Rebecca say it.

She looked up, glancing from Jack to Aidan. Jack shook his head, but she ignored him. “It's the captain's log. His last entry.”

“Well that seems pretty important, doesn't it? Maybe something we should listen to? Might save us some time and we don't have much of that, right, Mr. Crawford?”

“I don't think . . .”

Aidan didn't wait for Jack to finish. Instead, he reached down and tapped the blinking icon. Gravely gasped as her father appeared on the screens above them. It was not the same man they had seen only minutes before. No, this man was exactly as she remembered him. The same kind, sad eyes. The type of face you would call fatherly, whether he was related to you or not. The date flashed on the screen – June 18, 2159.

“God,” Aidan said, “that's ten years ago. How . . .”

He looked at Rebecca and in her eyes he saw that she had expected this. That she had known it all along.

“Aidan . . .” she began, but before she could even begin to explain, she was interrupted by the voice from the screen.

“The dreams will stop,” it said. “That's what they tell us will happen, if we succeed at least. And that was enough for me, for all of us. Sometimes, I think everything in my life comes down to those impossible dreams. They never were dreams, though. Not really. Not to me. I call them that only because that's what the lab guys, the scientists and the psychologists called them. Just ‘resonance in neural circuits.’ I guess that is why I am making this entry in my log. I hope they end, but I do not want to forget. I do not want to believe the lies. They have not seen. They do not know.”

“The dreams?” Ridley whispered. “How will they stop? What does he mean?”

Jack simply stood, on the verge of rage, but with growing resignation. "He could try and stop this, he thought. But they would never let him. Their desire to know was too great now. Who knew what they might do? Then the other Captain Gravely continued.  

“The last one was the same as the first. It was the same as them all. A valley opens up before me. But it is unlike anything I have ever seen. There are no majestic cliffs, no free-flowing waters or forests clinging to its sides. No. Hell has come to this place. The ground is scorched and barren. There is no life there, nor will there ever be.

“I can see dimly; the pallid yellow of the cloudless sky bears down on me like coming twilight. Even though there is no sun. Even though this place lies between the darkness and the light. In shadow. Though what casts that shadow, I cannot know, nor do I wish to. But the light is enough that as I walk down that valley toward its end, toward
the
end, as it narrows to a point where I do not know if I can go on, I can see
them.

“They stand along the valley's edge on both sides. High above me. Silent and unmoving. Figures, black. Hooded and cloaked, perhaps. But I think not. They are the shadow itself. Their eyes are ever upon me, though they do not move. For they do have eyes. Great pools of emptiness where their faces should be. And they speak to me. In whispered words and phrases. In wisps of cool breeze that seem to surround me, though the air is still and hot. What do they say? Can I know? Somehow I do. But whatever that truth may be, I cannot bear to repeat it here. I cannot tell what cannot be denied.

“For ten years I have walked down that valley. Every endless night I have seen them. And they have haunted me, even in waking. I have told no one, and neither will I. Wouldn't they think me mad? If I told them how the shadow figures watch me? How I see them sometimes, reposing under the streetlight beside my home? How they stand and do not move? Their cold, never-blinking eyes? How I have found them in photographs, even those from my childhood? Lurking in the distance?

“Nameless sentries on the edge of existence and the frame? How I can feel them, standing behind me, even now? Their cold breath on my neck? And if I turn? How I catch them in the corner of my eye, even if they vanish by the time I look fully upon them? Yes, they would think me mad. And a mad man is most unwelcome in the void.”

The screen went blank. There was nothing else to see.

“My father wrote me a letter,” Gravely said, her resolve unable to keep out the quiver in her voice, “before he left on his last mission. He told me that he wasn't sure if he would ever come back, that the dreams had become too much, but he planned on doing something about them. He said that if he succeeded, the nightmares would go away. That he would be free of them. I didn't find the letter until after his ship had departed. Two weeks later, we received notification that his ship was lost, presumed destroyed. They assured us it was an accident, but I always knew better.”

“I'm so sorry, Captain,” Rebecca said. It was a clumsy attempt, empty words that did nothing to salve the pain.

“Why did you bring me here?” Gravely’s voice was a whisper of barely constrained rage. “Why me? Why us?”

“It was a coincidence,” Rebecca answered. “We knew the ship was here, and yours was the only one going to Riley any time soon. A private shuttle or a military ship might have aroused suspicion. It simply made sense.”

“But you knew,” Gravely almost pleaded. “You knew this was his ship and you brought me out here anyway.”

“We didn't know,” Rebecca said, but Aidan could hear in her desperate voice, the way it seemed to float up an octave higher than usual, that not even she believed that. “Not for sure. We had an idea, of course.”

“Enough. Enough of this,” Jack said, standing up. “I'm sorry, Captain, but this was bigger than you. Besides, haven't you always wondered what happened to your father? Now you know.”

“I know nothing!” Gravely cried. “I know less than I knew before! And what I do know is so much worse than not knowing.”

“Look,” Jack said, and Aidan knew he was reaching his limit, “you've all learned more than you should have. Now, we need to get to work. Aidan, Rebecca, get down to the engine room and see if you can get it straightened out. Dr. Ridley, Captain Gravely, why don't you explore the crew cabin? Maybe you can find something. Answer some of your questions. More than you probably should, no doubt. But I'm shorthanded and can't afford secrecy.”

The others didn't bother to answer before leaving Crawford behind. Aidan grabbed Rebecca's arm, virtually dragging her off the bridge before Jack could change his mind. The captain and Dr. Ridley left as well, the latter just glad he didn't have to go anywhere by himself.