Darkside 123

There it was! I held my hand up to shade against the blinding light of the sun. Yes, a ship! I squinted into the distance. Gone! I stepped back from the window. Hallucination? Must have been, couldn’t be a ship. Not way out here. I slumped back into the chair and rubbed a dry callused hand over my eyes and shrugged. The isolation was getting to me. Couldn’t have been a ship. Especially the sails I saw.

A beeping from the console disrupted my thoughts. I glanced at the flashing light. Stood and approached the window again and placed my palm on the glass cutting the glare of the distant sun.

Sails! There were sails. It couldn’t be… The sails were heading my way. I impatiently shuffled through the equipment spread carelessly over the console. Where did I put those nocs? Damn! I rummaged through the build-up of months’ worth of equipment left piled where I should not have. Cursed myself a fool and glanced back to the window. Raised my eyebrows and grabbed the nocs hanging beside the glass. Idiot!

I held the nocs to my eyes and focused them beyond the filthy glass. The scene pulsed in and out trying to find clarity. Sails! Unfocussed. Sails! Unfocused. Sails! A ship… A bloody ship.

I lowered the nocs and squinted beyond the stained glass. Clearly in the distance, on the horizon. If you could class the floating debris, dirt and dust a horizon. I poked at the insistent flashing light to shut off the annoying beeping and turned to look at the filthy interior of my forced seclusion. You are a lousy housekeeper. I turned my gaze to the calendar that had scrolled day after day for one year, two months and 6 days. I smiled. Grabbed an armful of dirty dishes and leftover drink and dried food containers and headed towards the galley. Should at least tidy up a bit for my visitors.

The first six months I diligently tidied and kept the craft annoyingly clean. Then the next six months neglected it regularly, occasionally finding the inclination to make it clean again, but the last few months I had resigned myself to living in my own squaller. It did not matter, dead was dead whether in pristine surrounds or my own waste, dead was dead, and I would not care. But now, I regrated my own laziness. I could not have my saviours see what had become of me, no matter how long it had been.

I expectantly ran back to the window and watched the solar sails as they approached. No ship visible under them yet. No sign that enlightened me on its origins. I lifted the nocs again and impatiently waited on them to switch focus. Slammed them down on the console and yelled. “No! Damn… No!”

I turned away. “No!”

Think Ron, think! I glanced around me. What was still working? My console beeped. I squinted at it. Incoming transmission. I slumped on the chair at the console and reached my finger towards the communicator switch. If I did not respond, would they pass me by? If I did respond, would they pass me by? I sighed, either way was not a pleasant thought. Either way I could be dead. The transmission continued beeping. Damn! I flicked the switch.

“Darkside 123 to approaching vessel, please identify.”

The communicator crackled. “Darkside 123, this is Varden One we picked up your distress signal.” It was a female voice which relaxed me, probably as intended.

“Varden One, you fly raiders colours?” I knew this was the direct approach but needed to get this out of the way first off.

“Darkside 123, this is Varden One. Sorry about that. We are a salvage vessel flying raiders colours to dissuade unwanted attention.” The woman’s voice transmitted.

I placed a hand weapon on the console and switched to transmit. “A bit concerning.” I said without preamble.

“Darkside 123, this is Varden One. Understand that. How many do you have on board requiring assistance?”

I sat back. Lie Ron, Lie! I approached the window again. Their colours had changed to salvage. Was this a ploy. Lie Ron, Lie!

“Darkside 123, this is Varden One. We will hold while you seek verification on our status.” She was good, let me relax.

I sat at the console and held my head in my hands. Was I dead either way? I clicked on the computer and worked the wavering screen. Impossible. I would not find the information I desired on this; it had died within months of my vessel. I turned towards the life support systems and studied the read out. If I continued doing what I was doing I could probably survive another month, or maybe two. If I opened to the salvage ship, I would lose a lot of that back up and if things went array, and I survived I would be down to maybe a week.

“Darkside 123, this is Varden One, how are you going in there? It was a male voice. “I am Captain Hurst. Lionel Hurst out of Parteethia. I am here with a crew of twenty-two and we are a salvage vessel responding to your distress signal. What can I do to reassure you? Are you the Captain of Darkside 123?” There was background mumbling before he was cut off.

I threw my finger at the communicator switch. “Varden One, Darkside 123. I am unable to identify.”

Silence.

I sprang up to peer out the window. The ship hovered off my stern. I could see personnel within their flight deck, but unable to distinguish their race or uniforms, if any.

“Darkside 123, this is Varden One, we have you listed as off grid with a crew of six, please confirm.” Captain Hurst communicated.

“Shit!” No way I could lie now. What the hell could I do?

“Darkside 123, Varden One, we would like to board and assess.”

“I’m sure you would.” I mumbled, slumped back into the console seat, and flicked the switch. “Varden One, I repeat I am unable to identify you.”

Silence.

“Darkside 123, your inability to identify is expected, we are a new vessel.” Mumbling in the background again. Then the woman’s voice returned.

“Are you Captain Bryant? Captain Joseph Bryant?”

“Shit!” They know too much to be raiders, surely. Should I tell the truth?

Silence.

“Darkside 123, we would like to help, how can we help?” The woman’s voice again.

“Varden One, my name is Ron.” I replied.

“Biologist Ron Victor?” She asked.

Definitely know too much. I toyed with the communication switch.

“Ron!” The woman with more mumbling in the background.

“Darkside 123, this is Varden One.” Captain Hurst. “We need to talk, and I think face to face would be our best bet, may we board?”

“Shit! Shit! Shit!” I thumped the console. What was I going to do? I lost most of the crew when our ship was hit by a meteor shower while we languished during repairs. If I were not in the sealed bio lab, I would have joined them. Captain Bryant managed to seal off the living and control room and survived with his injuries for a week, First Mate Sharant for a couple of months. I did what I could, but, hell, I was no Doctor. All I could do was dress their wounds and reduce their pain.

“Darkside 123, this is Varden One. Do you copy?” Captain Hurst.

“Shit! Let me think, damn it!” I yelled.

“Ron, my name is Jacinta, Jacinta Farnster, I am Communications Officer aboard the Varden One. We have been aspace for just over one year now. We know well of the Darkside 123 and your mission. Can we talk?” The woman’s voice.

I threw myself back into the console chair and reached for the communications switch, then pulled my hand back.

“As the Captain mentioned, we are a salvage vessel out of Parteethia, registered with the Parteethia Space Exploration… PSE… I know this will mean nothing to you.” Jacinta with more accompanying mumbles. “Well, he needs to know something.” More mumbles. “Shit!” The transmitting clicked off.

“Darkside 123, this is Varden One, we need to keep this communique official, we are recording.” Captain Hurst.

I flicked the switch. “Varden One, this is Darkside 123. Officially, what do you know about us?”

Silence.

“Ron … Okay. Okay… Darkside 123, this is Varden One Captain Hurst is heading to transit now, he will wait for you to open the link … Access bay.” Jacinta.

“Damn.” I yelled and then flicked the switch. “Unable to do so… Repeat, unable to do so. Most of the ship is compromised.”

Silence.

“Darkside 123, this is Varden One.” Captain Hurst. “How compromised?”

I sat back. Was this the time for truth? I leant towards the console; my finger paused over the switch … I flicked it. “Extremely compromised all I have operational is the living zone and flight deck.”

A silent pause then. “Ron.” Captain Hurst forgoing official protocol. “How many crew are there?”

“Just myself.” I decided it was time to come clean. “Lost the others from a meteor strike over a year ago.”

Silence.

“Darkside 123, this is Varden One, do you have access to a suit?” Captain Hurst.

I knew the answer, but I looked around the flight deck anyway. “No, I do not.”

“Give us a moment 123.” Captain Hurst.

“Ron, the Captain is just talking with the crew to work out a way we can help you. What year did you leave home?” Jacinta.

“What was it. Umm 2125.” I replied.

Silence.

“Varden One?”

“Just a minute Ron.” Jacinta.

“Ron, we’re coming in. I need you to do a few things first.” Captain Hurst.

“Go ahead.”

“Darkside 123, this is Varden One, officially again. We need you to seal yourself into the Flight Deck, close off the living zone. We are going to drift in from the Port side and access the living zone, this will depressurise the living zone, so I need to make sure you understand you need to be sealed in the Flight deck. Is this doable?”

“I guess so.”

“Darkside 123, this is Varden One. I guess so is not good enough … Thanks … I have just been handed schematics for your vessel … Give me a moment.” Captain Hurst.

“Okay. Darkside 123, this is Varden One. You can re-pressurize once we are in, the controls near the door between you and the living zone will allow this… I have given Jacinta authorization to talk to you while we carry this out… Confirm the seal.” Captain Hurst.

I closed the door to the Living Zone, checked the seal on the controller and returned to the communicator. “Varden One, Darkside 123, it is sealed.”

“Good Ron, they are on their way. It won’t be long.” Jacinta.

“Thank you.” I felt like crying with joy.

“Darkside 123, this is Varden One, I have been authorized by Captain Hurst and The Parteethia Space Exploration with consult to Earth Base One to inform you that Darkside 123 has been off grid for twelve years.” Jacinta’s voice cracked. “I have been advised to inform you of this to prepare you for …” Transmission faltered as the side of the Living Zone pulsed and two suited figures stepped through. The wall sealed behind them and one of the figures pointed to the controller at the dividing door.

“Darkside 123, do you copy?” Captain Hurst.

I nodded at the figure standing in the Living Zone. Then returned to the console and flicked at the communicator. “Copy.”

“Darkside 123, this is Varden One, I have two men on board. If you can re-pressurize the Living zone, they have a suit for you. These suits are a lot different than what you are used to, one of the reasons we told you about the date difference, but Thomas will help you with that … Let us get you home.”