Sargasso of Souls – Session 11
The next morning I was up pretty early. There was much that needed doing but, before I got bogged down in preparing for the mission, I went to see Maya once again. She was sleeping peacefully so I did not disturb her, but I watched her for a while before I left. Things were changing and I was beginning to re-evaluate what was important to me. It had been a long time since I had felt close to anyone. I tried to remember what it was like not to be alone.
True to his word, Razor spoke to me before the board meeting was reconvened. He told me that in spite of what had happened he felt unable to leave Nessence Transit. He had thought long and hard about it and could not bring himself to abandon the people that were depending on him. I assured him that, like me, many would follow him if he went but he quietened me, saying that he had come up with a proposal that he hoped would satisfy Morris and Ramsay. If they did not accept it he would have to reconsider his position.
At the subsequent meeting, he revealed his plan, suggesting that we form a third company, Storm Exploitation Corporation (SEC), in which the six of us (myself, Phipps, Morris, Ramsay, Sam Wiles and Razor) would have equal shares with Nessence Transit. All business associated with exploitation of the planet would be conducted through this company. The seven-way split would give us a little over 14% of the profits each. Transportation would be contracted out to Nessence Transit, which would continue to operate as a small-scale courier service, as had been originally intended, and Morris Industries would remain a private concern of Razor’s, though we would also retain our shares in that. The only obvious disruption would be the need to transfer the majority of new recruits, security personnel in particular, over to SEC, as they had been employed to further our operations on planet.
After considering this for a few moments, Ramsay and Morris both agreed to it in principle and, barring any disagreement over minor details, the vote was carried unanimously. Thus the meeting came to an end.
It was almost an anti-climax, though I was conscious of the fact that the damage had not been repaired. Despite the settlement, a distance had opened up between Razor and the other two. There was an unhealthy feeling of ‘them and us’ emerging within the group. And that was without factoring in the simmering animosity that I felt towards Ramsay after discovering that he didn’t give a shit about anyone other than himself.
I buried it and got back to work.
Over the next couple of days Stanford Enterprises delivered the construction equipment and we began loading it aboard the Salvation. Locke and I made our plans, selected the team and got everything ready to go. On the 23rd July I paid a last visit to Maya and then embarked on my third trip to Storm.
Departing with me were Randall Locke, the flight crew; Ramsay as pilot, Almeida as co-pilot and Russo as engineer; a medic, Trish Potter; an eight man security team, twenty of Stanford Enterprises construction engineers, Phipps and an archaeologist, Professor Miguel Santino, who had been recruited and included to make the most of any opportunity we got to revisit the Ancient complex.
A few hours later, as we neared the planet, sensors curiously picked up an escape pod in high orbit. We puzzled over where it might have come from. Particularly since it was of a size that suggested it was from a medium to large ship. It was heading for the Chandra science station under its own power, and we had no spare capacity for extra passengers so we settled on alerting the station to its imminent arrival. Then we continued our approach.
It was my third descent to the surface but I had yet to get used to the violent buffeting. At any moment it felt like the shuttle would be torn apart or caught in a cross wind and spun wildly out of control. I took deep breaths and reminded myself that we had survived two previous landings.
The floor and walls juddered uncontrollably as the engines strained to keep us on course. G-forces pushed me back into my seat. Then suddenly the shuttle lurched and flipped over. My fingers dug into the armrest and I tensed, expecting a catastrophic impact. But fortunately it never came. After a moment we righted ourselves and I sensed that things were back under control.
“Ramsay. What the f**k’s going on?” I barked over the radio.
“Not now. I’m busy” came the reply.
A few minutes later the Salvation banked sharply, rolled and then came in for a landing. As we touched down there was a sensation of slewing sideways and then something buckled and one side of the shuttle dropped a few inches. Finally we came to a halt.
It took a moment for my heart rate to return to normal and then I headed for the cockpit to find out what had happened.
When I got there I discovered that the whole of the canyon floor was flooded. It was shallower where we had come down, only about a foot or so, but where we had intended to land it was over a metre deep.
“And that’s not all!” Ramsay said flipping on a video recording of our landing.
For a moment the image shook violently and little could be made out, but as the Salvation erupted from the swirling clouds the screen was suddenly filled by an imposing wall of rock. The camera immediately inverted as the shuttle banked sharply, veering away. A collision with the jagged surface was only narrowly avoided.
Ramsay switched to another angle and showed me the large conical peak receding behind us as we sped away. The scene was illuminated by lightning, which continually arced from the turbulent skies to the peak’s summit. Beneath us was a wide expanse of water.
“Shit! That was close,” I said. “So how’d we end up that far off course?”
“That’s just it” Ramsay replied. “We weren’t. The plain has flooded and that mountain wasn’t there before!”
“You’re sure?”
Ramsay’s only response was to look at me reproachfully. Almeida, the co-pilot, nodded. They were sure.
I pushed the ramifications of this discovery to the back of my mind and focused on more pressing issues. We needed to secure the ship and assess the damage.
First we did some scans to make sure it was safe to venture out. The water was fast flowing but pretty close to H2O in composition. It had no corrosive properties.
I led a team out to secure the immediate area. We used tethers to ensure that no one got washed away. Then we deployed the charge dissipation gear, which due to the flow of water was far more effective than it had been previously.
In a little over an hour the charge dissipation was complete and we had established the following:
There was water in one of the Salvation’s engines and some damage to the starboard undercarriage, but nothing too severe. The flight crew would be able to fix it within a few hours, as soon as the flow of water subsided.
The rain had reduced to a drizzle and the water level was already dropping.
We were further into the canyon than we had planned, somewhere beyond the entrance to the Ancient complex.
We were parked on a large patch of the red-lichen. Fortunately the flood had already dissipated its charge.
The entrance to the emergency base that we had prepared last time was almost certainly underwater.
Great! Everything was already going to shit!
I spoke to the head of the construction team to find out what our options were. He proposed starting from scratch. As we didn’t know how often the canyon flooded it made sense to build both the main and emergency bases higher up in the canyon wall. Ramps could easily be constructed to provide access.
I deferred to his judgement. It was his area of expertise after all. I told him to begin work on the emergency shelter as a priority.
The water level had already dropped sufficiently to unload some of the heavier machinery and work soon commenced.
Once the water had all but subsided I sent Bauman and Sawyer out with flamethrowers to burn away the lichen. It proved to be an effective way of clearing it.
For the remainder of the day and most of the next we worked flat out in an effort to make up lost time. Starting the emergency base again had put us well behind schedule and we were unlikely to finish our excavations by the first rendezvous on the 26th as had originally been planned.
The construction team worked two twelve-hour shifts and I set up a four-hours-on four-hours-off rotation with the security team. As usual the conditions outside the shuttle made it an ordeal. Though at least the ‘whispering’ voices had been reduced by our decision to switch to tight-band comms and the cramped conditions on the Salvation were being alleviated by the fact that at any given time at least half the crew were working. We took turns in available accommodation and got what rest we could.
Some twenty-eight hours into the mission, I was feeling that maybe we were starting to get back on track, when some of the construction workers reported that there had been an accident.
What now!? I thought.
It turned out that one of their team had fallen from the rocks, badly denting his helmet and knocking himself unconscious. Fortunately he hadn’t breached his suit.
We got him inside, so Veldin could take a look at him, and to my relief it was pronounced that it was only a matter of time before the workman came to.
Satisfied, his colleagues returned to work.
A short while later Veldin called me to the sickbay and informed me that, though the injured workman was still unconscious, he had been mumbling something about “He was right above me” and “Those eyes.” Phipps had thought it best to let me know.
Great! I wasn’t entirely sure what to do with this information. Perhaps he was just delirious… or maybe not.
I told Veldin and Trish Potter, the medic who was assisting him, to keep it to themselves. After my experiences on the second mission, it didn’t seem a good idea to have such rumours circulating amongst the crew.
Afterwards I told Locke and, though we played it down, we instructed the security team to be extra vigilant.
A few hours later, during one of my off-shifts, the vaguely unsettling dream that I had been having was interrupted by a call from Phipps. He told me that the workman had regained consciousness and was claiming that, just before the accident, a flash of lightning had illuminated a man standing on the rocks above him. He was quite lucid and maintained that the man had not been wearing a space suit. It was only when he had stepped back in surprise that he had fallen.
Wisely Phipps had told him that it was not possible for someone to survive on the surface without a suit and that the mind often plays tricks on one after a severe concussion. The patient had not been convinced but had relented.
I thanked Veldin for keeping me informed and tried to get back to sleep, but thoughts of what I had been told kept me awake.
A couple of hours later my rest period was over and I went back out on sentry duty.
