Palimpsest, Thunderfield [red queen ebook TXT] 📗

about five weeks of food supplies, rations could stretch it out to twelve weeks, perhaps longer and there may be usable supplies in the cargo holds.’
Medicine, food, air, water, ramscoop, all these systems suddenly under stress. What the hell am I to do? Pierce was thinking. ‘Thank you gentlemen,’ he said, ‘and remain quiet about our situation until we know where we are.’
He hung up the phone and then said, ‘we cannot expect rescue, we cannot expect to find the Perryman egress transition, and we cannot waste power by stopping, so for the time being we stay as we are. We calm pax and crew and put all available resources into finding our location. In the meantime I need a beacon.’
He looked at the phone and dialled again.
‘launch bays’
‘This is the Captain, who is this?’
‘Jeffries Sir,
‘Tell me Jeffries, how long do you need to prep a probe with an all channels omni directional beacon, no propulsion power?’
She answered ‘The probes are on standby but the beacon will need to be set up. It could be ready in five or six hours sir.’
‘Prep two probes with beacons, and keep it confidential,’ he stressed.
‘Yes sir.’
Peirce hung up again, and looked at Lim, he never could read him but had actually worked with him far longer than with Redfern. The latter raised an eyebrow at him.
‘I propose to leave a probe in this region so the beacon will signify to any rescuer that we emerged intact from Perryman. Once we know our location we release the second probe giving our rescuers a direction to follow us.’
‘What could be our destination?’ asked Lim.
‘If we are very lucky a star system with a wormhole transition point we recognise, we must assume it’s a way-station because of the absence of bubble communications.’
‘If we can reach a way-station, then we will be on our way home.’ interjected Redfern.
Pierce summarized, ‘Propulsion at maximum, food, air and water consumption need precise calculations. We tell the pax we have three weeks supplies and because we egressed Perryman early we now have twice the travel time to NA.’
‘If there is no lucky destination, what is our alternative?’ said Lim.
Redfern answered, ‘We pick up supplies en route, the universe is full of planets. We use a gas giant for methane or similar fuel, and make more stops at rocks with atmospheres for air and water. Our very meagre diet remains a problem, perhaps we can solve that along the way.’
‘You are remarkably optimistic Mr Redfern, but first Cartwright’s team gets all the resources he needs,’ Peirce raised a finger on his undamaged left hand ‘One, to find our location and two,’ he lifted a second digit, ‘to plot a route home.’
Peirce sighed, he had a plan and better still the passengers would not find out until they were safe and sound.
Lim and Redfern left and as they turned into the passage Lim quietly said, ‘The Captain looks relieved but this is misplaced, as is your optimism. We are in great danger, no cruise liner has ever been in 3D space with the total absence of bubble communications. It has never happened before and I think it means we are a long, long way from home.’

Chapter 3

Forty four fatalities were listed on a large screen by the entrance to the Medical Centre, a second list showed twice as many had been hospitalized. Max was relieved, apart from Ron Weatherford the Passenger Services Director he did not recognize anyone, but he was shocked at the scale of the disaster.
He did recognise Ronan Kilpatrick one of nine names on a third list of missing persons. It has been twenty four hours. Max now reunited with his comtube had co-ordinated the twelve other students into a systematic search of the public decks, but there was no trace of the young man.
The ships formal name was the Jacquard, one of six in the line named after Victorian inventors. However it was universally known by its nickname, The Gargoyle, a reference to the blunt ugly nose of the vessel. Max pondered how a space ship even as large as the Gargoyle could lose people. They must be dead or unconscious, but he clung to the hope that Ronan knew of another hideaway like Kemps.
It was getting late and he was about to leave when Doctor Morgan came out of the centre.
‘Hello Doctor’ said Max.
‘Hello, do we know each other?’
‘We met briefly when you brought the Captain through after the ship was shaken up.’
‘Ah, yes you’re the physicist.’
‘Max, a geologist actually, and I am with a group of students, one of which is on your list of missing persons.’
She gave a brief smile, ‘I’m sorry it was such a traumatic day yesterday, we are still overwhelmed by it all, everyone is exhausted.’ Her hair was pulled back, which exposed drawn features. ‘Which one is your student?’
‘Ronan Kilpatrick, an independent spirit who wanders off and gets into scrapes. We think he must have been up to his usual self and gone off somewhere, and is now perhaps alone and needs help but we can’t find him.’ For the second time an image of Kemps drug den popped into his mind.
The doctor replied. ‘Only two of the missing persons are passengers, the rest are crew from remote areas of engineering.’ She looked Max straight in the eye, ‘If Ronan is found I will let you know immediately I promise.’
‘Thank you,’
She took a breath and almost apologetically said, ‘your student said something about a spacequake?’
‘That was Turner, with the broken fingers, he was just fooling around, even in a crisis seriousness eludes him.’
She paused a good thirty seconds, with furrowed brow, took another deep breath and very quietly said, ‘but he was somewhat closer to the truth than he thinks.’
Max interrupted, ‘no, no no, you have misunderstood, there is… ‘
She whispered, ‘come with me.’
Surprised by her sudden conspiratorial manner Max followed the Doctor back into the medical centre, across what had been the triage area now occupied by a dozen beds, all with yellow mattresses and yet again sparked an image of Kemp. Patients slept, read and a couple of them with mild curiosity watched Max stroll by. He tried to act nonchalantly, as if he belonged there. She led him down a short corridor where he had glimpsed the body the day before. They passed two small but full wards either side, through the open doors he could see patients attended by a few medics and several others in regular crew uniforms. Two knee high porter-utes rolled across the floor with a stretchered patient secured above them, when they neared the empty bed, synchronised together their hydraulics raised the stretcher and gently slid the patient onto the bed. Beyond the wards other doors were closed, and she stopped at an office door with a sign.
‘Doctor Derrycke I presume,’ Max read.
She offered her hand, which Max shook lightly, ‘actually Doctor Morgan, just promoted to acting head of Medical as Dr Derrycke has replaced the poor Ron Weatherford as the new Passenger Services Director, that office is on the AdminDeck. I will get the sign changed soon, come in and sit down.’
Derrycke’s possessions still owned the office, certificates and awards photos on the wall, a man concerned with status thought Max. Even his large black jacket remained on a stand by the door. There were papers and folders piled on the desk and filing cabinets with half the draws open. There were several boxes of files labelled as Doctor Morgan’s on the floor which they stepped around as they entered.
‘Bit of a mess, the shake out, and moving my stuff in,’ she said. Doctor Morgan checked the hallway outside and closed the door. She invited him to sit at her desk, there was a jug of water on a side table and she offered him a glass. ‘It’s all I have to offer.’
Max accepted, and as she poured he said, ‘space-quakes are a figment of Turners imagination.’
‘Max, what I am about to say, please keep to yourself,’
‘Okay, sounds very intriguing.’
‘No it’s not intriguing, it is deeply worrying.’
‘Please go ahead’, Max became wholly attentive.
‘In the chaos of yesterday I had to deputise for Doctor Derrycke and Ron Weatherford and attend a meeting with the Captain and his senior officers. Your space quake turns out to be some kind of fault within the wormhole and the ship was thrown out.’
‘We are out of the wormhole? So where is New Albion?’
‘I shouldn’t tell you, but I can’t sit on it any longer and I am out of the loop now Derrycke is in place. Please keep this to yourself.’
‘I promise, tell me.’
‘They are going to make an announcement soon anyway about the journey being extended a couple of weeks, but the thing is they don’t have a clue where we are.’
‘You mean we are not in the wormhole and are nowhere near NA?’ Max was incredulous.
‘My concerns are all these injured people, our facilities are completely insufficient to care for the injured over an extended time.’ She said.
‘Nowhere near NA,’ Max repeated, ‘I don’t know enough about star charts and wormholes but we must surely be somewhere near either end, in the region of Sol or NA?’
‘No, at the meeting this officer called Cartwright said they could not identify anything in this region of space that’s familiar. He said we were adrift!’
Stunned into silence, Max stared at Doctor Morgan.
‘How can that be? Why keep it quiet, why are they going to say the journeys to be a bit longer?’ then answering himself Max added, ‘because they want to avoid panic. Look one of my students, Enrique, is pretty clued up on space travel and he might have a better idea of what you’re talking about. Do you have any other information?’
‘No that’s the only bombshell.’
‘That’s quite some bombshell,’ Max said. Then he changed the subject, ‘do you need any more volunteers to help here? Once we find Ronan we will have time on our hands, I can ask the students to come over.’
‘For the moment we are OK, but the crew have their normal duties as well and fatigue will become a problem. I will consider your kind offer and get back to you.’
‘Good, I will ask Enrique to check out your bombshell,’ Max drained the glass of water, stood up and offered a handshake.
‘Max Lewis, junior lecturer at the department of Geology at Commonwealth University.’
‘I went to Commonwealth, medical studies of course, over ten years ago now, I am Susan Morgan, very pleased to have met you Max Lewis,’ she smiled.

* * *

The gullible and complacent accepted the announced two weeks extension which doubled the journey time. Naismith was not placated.
A wealthy handful had been appeased with promised compensation to be processed on New Albion. Naismith was puzzled.
There was a vacuum of meaningful information and ship to NA communication were nonexistent, though he knew only the wealthy or panicked would afford such a luxury, and Naismith was neither. The revised schedule from the new egress transition point meant the ship was beyond the reach of NA’s bubble. A side effect was the food supplies had to last longer and calories would be reduced.
There was confusion amongst the passengers and as it became clear the crew were equally ignorant of what was going on the mood changed to apprehension, and tension increased.
Naismith had