Questor Read online

  QUESTOR

  L.S. GIBSON

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  About the Author

  Untitled

  Questor

  by L. S. Gibson

  Published by Clean Reads

  www.cleanreads.com

  * * *

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.

  QUESTOR

  Copyright © 2016 L.S. GIBSON

  ISBN 978-1-62135-644-8

  Cover Art Designed by AM DESIGN STUDIO

  Special appreciation to my family for persevering with me when I was so wrapped up in my writing.

  ONE

  Lieutenant Jon Hardesty hung on to his console, his legs wrapped around the seat pillar. As never before, Jon appreciated the long limbs provided by his six-foot-two-inch height. He’d already seen one colleague take a heavy fall and didn't want to follow suit. The rest of the command center crew was just as engaged at that moment, hanging on for dear life. Poor Patterson was left rolling over the deck pretty much as he’d fallen since no one was capable of going to his aid. The noise continued to increase and seemed to be screaming inside Jon’s head, clattering, grinding, thumping and the accompanying rising vibration shuddering through everything. Jon prayed the vessel wasn’t being torn apart around him.

  As helmsman, Jon did all he could to point the ship in the right direction and set up the vessel in the safest configuration. The captain had also instituted safety precautions. Like everyone else, all Jon could do now was try to hold on for the duration. He just wasn’t sure he’d be able to hang on much longer, his legs ached with the strain, and his arms had long since lost all feeling. He’d no idea how much time had passed since this wild ride had started. He hoped it wouldn’t go on much longer. Why ever not? This wasn’t supposed to be a fairground ride.

  Fairground ride? Odd he should think that. When he first saw the anomaly he’d been reminded of oversized fairy lights. How long ago had that been now? His chronometer was just in sight, but due to the damned vibration it was difficult to read the time. It seemed ages, though it was probable no more than thirty minutes had passed. Thirty minutes, a lifetime.

  Jon remembered Captain Sullivan looking around the command center, studying his crew, and Jon followed his gaze. Everyone was busy but they were also tired. Not just tired from the physical exertion, but also from the emotional stress. The Questor had spent the last three years travelling through an unknown sector of space, their mission to draw up detailed charts of the area, and they were due to start back soon. It had been a long, draining three years, with nothing of particular importance discovered. As discovery was their whole purpose for being out here, so far from home, the crew of Questor were justified in their depression. It wasn’t anything they’d done wrong, the Questor crew was one of the best in the fleet, but there just hadn't been anything to find. They’d hoped for great things at the start of the mission, their survey area being the farthest yet from Earth. Now all they wanted was to get home. The quicker this grid was finished, the sooner the captain could order them home, though the journey would be a long six months.

  Captain Sullivan spoke to his senior science officer, Lieutenant Johnson Mannheim, “How much longer—”

  “Sir, I’m picking up something, something odd,” Mannheim interrupted. He hesitated as his fingers darted about as he punched a couple more icons on his console. “I’ve never scanned anything like it before,” he said, turning to look at the captain, a spark of interest in his eyes. “It sure is powerful. It’s just outside the grid, beyond our prescribed sector, but it’s blanking out some of the readings I was studying inside the grid.” He glanced at the captain with a grin. “It’s the most interesting thing I’ve seen in months, years, Captain.”

  Mannheim didn’t ask the question; he didn’t need to. He wanted to investigate. He always wanted to investigate. Known by his friends as Manny, the thirty-one-year-old had earned his senior rank by hard work and the genius of insight just when needed. He was an impressive-looking man; just an inch short of six feet, well built with strong shoulders, black hair and sparkling green eyes in a strong face. Manny’s smile was never far away.

  Captain Sullivan hesitated for one second then glanced around his command center once again. Jon could almost see what he was thinking by the look in his eye. Could this be it, what the crew needs? A result to our three-year mission. Can’t just ignore it now and traipse off home just ’cause it’s out of our sector.

  “Hardesty, get the coordinates from Mannheim,” Captain Sullivan ordered. “Let’s follow this carrot, shall we?”

  “Yes, sir.” Jon replied, excitement in his voice. Manny’s reaction was infectious.

  Jon headed the ship toward the coordinates, noting how the whole command center crew seemed to jump up a notch. He knew the excitement might prove to be just temporary, but it was better than the languorous feeling he had earlier.

  The captain paced up and down. Jon thought it was probable he’d worn a trough in the small area in front of his seat through his habit of pacing.

  “Any idea yet, Manny, what it is?” Peter Barlow, the executive officer, asked.

  “No, sir. I’ve never seen anything quite like it. Energy readings off the scale, gravity too, but it seems intermittent, random. There’s radiation from all parts of the spectrum, and other readings I can’t begin to decipher. I think...” he hesitated, face screwed up in concentration. “Yes, I can give you visual at maximum range.”

  Every eye stared at the large viewscreen to be met by an awesome sight. The black night speckled with the diamante of stars was gone, to be replaced by a swirl of colors—blue, green, yellow, and magenta—shot through with flashes of bright light. Almost hypnotic as it raced toward them.

  Manny slipped over to Jon’s station to study his readouts. “Will you look at that, Jon? What a sight,” he said with passion.

  Jon took his time to glance at Manny whose eyes danced from screen to console. “I’ve never seen anything like it either. We’ll need to be careful.” It was too easy for Manny to get carried away. Grinning at him, Manny headed back to his own station.

  They’d been on course for just a short time when Manny reported again. “Captain, whatever this is, it’s moving this way, fast.” He stopped and glanced over to Jon who was staring at his own console.

  “And how,” Jon confirmed. “Sir, this thing sure is fast, extremely fast, and it’s on an intercept course.” Jon couldn’t help one more glance at the viewscreen at the fascinating sight. He pulled his gaze from the screen, back to his console. “It’s still coming, sir, and at such speed...” Jon began. “Sir, it’s off our scales, I can’t begin to—”

  “Cut our speed, Jon,” interrupted the captain. “Can we change course to avoid it and still get detailed readings, Manny?”

  “Sir, it’s huge, much larger than my earlier readings indicate
d—Jon, check my figures—but I don’t think we’ll have time to get out of the way, or have anything like the speed to outrun it.” Manny’s excitement was now edged with a twinge of fear.

  “Confirmed, sir,” interjected Jon, keeping his voice calm with effort. He glanced toward the viewscreen again, but nothing had changed. It was an odd mixture of beauty and horror.

  “Right,” the captain said decisively, not as if someone had just told him his ship was facing a violent unknown. “How long?”

  “Three minutes, sir, tops,” Jon replied.

  Sullivan glanced at Lieutenant Philip Piper over at transmissions, who nodded straightaway. Piper would send out a warning to the crew, meanwhile he got the engineering chief for the captain. “Henricks, have you been following this?” Sullivan queried.

  “Yes, sir. Robert has kept me apprised,” said Lieutenant Commander Sara Henricks. Robert Simpson was Sara’s second but she never liked command center duty, preferring to stay in engineering, and she often assigned Robert to the command center. “I’ve no frame of reference though to say whether or not we can make it. If we can’t get out of the way, I suggest we broadside into it.”

  “No, sir,” interrupted Jon, his tone sharp. The fact Jon interrupted like that would’ve grabbed Sullivan’s attention. Jon wasn’t the kind to push himself forward; doing so in such a situation meant he had strong feelings about what he was saying. “This is acting like a storm, like a violent hurricane at sea; you must turn your nose into that. Broadside and it will crack you like an egg.”

  “We’re not at sea,” Sara shouted, her irritation clear.

  “I know that,” Jon replied, “but the effect is the same. It’s coming in like waves, but waves of energy. Right, Manny?”

  “Yeah, that’s it. I have discovered it’s chock full of ionizing radiation and that’s pulsing against some other energy I don’t recognize and it’s forming waves behind the leading edge.”

  “I still can’t say for sure if we can withstand this...storm,” Sara reported. “The hull was made to take a lot and the shielding is in good order, but...” her voice trailed off.

  “Sir?” Jon queried, looking hard at his captain who returned the regard.

  Jon saw the moment the captain came to his decision. He nodded. “Whatever you think best, Jon.”

  “Yes, sir.” Jon’s voice was surprisingly calm. Inside he felt like ice. God, I’d better be right, Jon thought, as he swung the ship bow forward into the terrible energy surging toward them. Manny had told him time and again he had to trust his instincts.

  “Henricks, supplement structural integrity support systems. Back up whatever other systems you can.”

  “Yes, Captain.”

  “Barlow, make sure all bulkhead doors are secure and everything is battened down.”

  “Already on it, Captain.” Glancing at the viewscreen, Barlow added, “Can we survive in there?”

  “We’ll know in one minute,” called Manny.

  Without needing to be ordered, Piper opened the communication channels again and announced ship-wide, “Now hear this. Contact with the storm is imminent. All hands make preparations.”

  Jon noted Piper didn’t say what preparations to make. None of them knew quite how they could prepare other than to hold on, but the man had to say something. Jon was aware many of the command center crew were watching him, in all likelihood praying he knew what the hell he was talking about. His stomach twisted at the knowledge that all their lives were in his hands. He prayed too.

  The phenomenon hit the ship like a sledgehammer, forcing the nose high up until the ship was almost standing on its rear end, and pushing the vessel ahead of the storm, before the leading edge washed over it and the ship dropped into one of the following waves. The ship rocked and rolled and was swung from one side to the other, as it crested wave after wave of crashing energy, while inside the crew hung on and hoped the ship would hold together. The “storm” seemed to last forever. The hull screamed one minute, the next it rang like a bell.

  One console spat a shower of sparks, and a few minutes later another exploded with a loud bang. David Patterson was thrown from the environment console and went flying to land in the middle of the command center, not far from the captain’s chair. However, Sullivan was pressed into his seat by the force of the storm and could but watch as Patterson rolled like a helpless rag doll across the deck and then back again as the ship fought the waves. He seemed unconscious, doubtless for the best at the moment. There was a sudden loud cracking noise as a piece of overhead bulkhead crashed down at the rear of the command center. It was lucky that nobody was hit, and it came to rest across one of the exit doors.

  Then in slow motion, so slow it didn’t quite register with Jon at first, the buffeting began to lessen. Jon’s comparison with a hurricane had been more accurate than even he’d expected. They had ridden out the storm. Whatever it was, it was passing at last.

  After what seemed an eternity Manny righted himself from his awkward position in his seat. A hand went to his back as if perhaps he’d sustained a minor injury, but he said nothing. Manny was quick to scan his console and he checked a couple of quick readings on his computer screen, before reporting to the captain, “Just to confirm, sir, the storm, for want of a better description, has passed us and moved on.”

  “Piper, get Doctor Mannion up here. Simpson, get in touch with Henricks, I want a full report,” the captain ordered.

  “The doctor is already on her way here, sir,” Piper replied.

  “I’m on with Sara now, sir. I’ll put her on loudspeaker,” Lieutenant Robert Simpson interjected.

  Henricks reported, “There’s been quite a bit of damage. Our stock of replacement parts is reasonable and some of the repairs won’t be a problem, but some of the damage is more severe. I’ll need time to carry out a full survey.” She hesitated for a moment, before adding, “It's probable it would've been worse if it hadn’t been for Jon’s suggestion.”

  Jon's eyes twinkled at Sara’s grudging admittance as he eased back the power and put the ship on station keeping. As he sat back and tried to relax, his muscles screamed out at him. He hadn’t realized until then just how tense he’d been. He stretched and eased his arms, shoulders and back and shook out his legs.

  Meanwhile, the captain walked over to Mannheim’s station to check with his findings. They held a quick conference, before he twisted back to his command center crew.

  “Well, whatever that was we’re out of it. The problem now is, where are we? Hardesty, study your charts and give us an idea of our location. From what I’ve seen on the viewscreen it’s not a region of space I can claim to recognize.”

  Jon started. He might’ve got them safely through, but to where? He’d not even considered that. His every thought centered on his relief they’d managed to get through in one piece. He pulled up chart after chart on his console, inputting figures for computation, frowning at what he saw, and checked again before pulling up more charts and inspecting them once more. He sat back in his chair, but said nothing.

  Jon sensed someone at his elbow. He glanced up and saw Manny frowning at him. “You’ve discovered where we are, and you don’t like it, do you?” he asked in a quiet voice.

  Jon met Manny’s gaze, and said ruefully, “No, and I don’t think anyone else will either. I’ve gone over and over this, Manny, and the computer verifies it. Don’t ask me how, but we’re over a hundred light years from where we were.”

  “A hundred?” asked Manny, the awe redolent in his voice. “But that’s impossible.”

  “One hundred,” Jon confirmed. “I checked and double-checked. I don’t know how either, but it’s going to take us over twenty years to get back home—minimum.” He stared at Manny and gave an odd half-smile. “Providing, of course, we can find fuel, food, supplies, just manage to keep the ship running.” He gave a laugh devoid of all humor. “We’ll never get home, Manny.”

  Captain Sullivan refused to be quite as negative as Jon when h
e reported his findings. The captain listened to Jon’s nervous report, and didn’t say a word, other than to call a meeting of senior officers.

  The word soon got around the ship, though. The crew was tense.

  The meeting of the senior officers lasted quite a while as they discussed just what options they had. They discussed the supply position, from both the point of view of engineering and general provisions.

  Sara confirmed her earlier report, with more detail on the damage. The hull had fared better than they could’ve hoped. However, the bottom line was once the spares stock was gone, their one option would be to make their own. Of course, the same problem would arise if—when—something broke down for which it wasn’t normal procedure to carry a spare. Such parts would need to be fabricated on the ship, and for that they’d need raw materials. Sara didn’t consider the fabrication itself would be a problem as they had detailed schematics and excellent facilities. She was pretty sure they could come up with whatever they needed if they had the raw materials, which meant taking stock of possible requirements and keeping a weather eye open for any possible planets or asteroids they might pass.

  Fuel was another major consideration. They carried enough for up to a year, but after that they’d need new supplies. It was hoped that wouldn’t prove too difficult as they’d keep a continual lookout for sources.