Permutation, p.1
Permutation, page 1
Permutation
Jonathan Bartell Space Agent
Patty Jansen
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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
More By This Author
Chapter One
Astoria Station, a small mining settlement in the Asteroid Belt.
Owner: Prosperity Mining, a specialist independent contractor, mining rare earths for the Lora manufacturing station, also owned by Prosperity Mining.
Consignment: Testing station for mining samples.
Population: 328.
If they were responding.
And Astoria Station hadn’t been responding to correspondence, official or unofficial, for a number of days.
Jonathan Bartell, in his cabin aboard the transport ship Renae Stellaris, which belonged to the same company, had watched the reports track through his news feeds for days.
First the questions Is anything going on? then the discussion What should we do? and then the speculation They probably have some power malfunction.
He had plotted the ship’s course.
Then he’d gone to put his case to the transport ship’s captain.
They were in the area, he said.
No, the station hadn’t issued an SOS, but someone should investigate.
They might be able to save lives.
They already knew there hadn’t been a major blowout, so the issue had to be something internal.
Problems like this could be traced back to issues with the atmosphere inside the station and the recycling plant. Jonathan was a specialist in recycling—something the company should know, because he and Gaby were en route to work on a joint venture between Prosperity Mining and the Space Corps.
The captain wasn’t happy, because it would mess up his schedule, he said, but space law dictated that when a vessel or station was in trouble, the nearby ships were obliged to render assistance.
The Renae Stellaris was the closest vessel, and even if there hadn’t been a call for help, there was clearly something wrong.
So this was how Jonathan and Gaby found themselves on board a small shuttle drifting past the grey walls of the non-responsive station, looking for a sign of life, or a sign of disaster.
The outer surface of the station was rough, pockmarked through the strikes of small rocks. Much-weathered paint on the hull proclaimed a hatch to be an Emergency Exit and another was an External Refuel Point.
“I’m still getting a response,” the pilot said. Her name was Kenzie McLaren, fresh out of flight academy. She was a wisp of a thing, strawberry blonde hair and millions of freckles on her face and arms, about half Jonathan’s age. He was sure military pilots would have to be older to be given responsibility over a ship like this.
The shuttle floated around to the docking area. The guide lights on the station’s surface flicked on.
“The docking system is connecting,” Kenzie continued.
“That’s something at least,” Gaby said.
“It’s also automated,” Jonathan said, his voice dry.
Gaby gave him a glance. “Yes, but be glad we don’t have to do the space walk.”
And still she tried to smooth things over.
She knew he wasn’t happy with the company’s apparent grip on procedures.
They’d had a discussion about this last night.
The agreement by the captain to cut speed and make for the station had been followed by a general display of incompetence by the staff. Jonathan argued none of the crew aboard the transport ship appeared to be capable of making their own decisions. They all blindly followed the company line.
“It’s even worse than at the Quarantine Authority!” he’d said. “These people follow rule books. They have no idea what to do in a real emergency.”
And now his and Gaby’s lives were in the hands of one such person, Kenzie, who looked no older than someone who had just left high school.
He could now see the docking area in the forward-facing screen.
The docking lights were on, a bright beacon in the darkness on the shadow side of the station.
The docking door was open.
So that still worked, too.
Jonathan and Gaby both watched the projection screen intently, on the lookout for any signs of damage.
If the station had been hit by a rock and the atmosphere had vented suddenly, many of the electronics would continue to function. The docking entrance was a vulnerable point where vents were most likely to occur. If that had happened, there would be evidence of blow-out damage.
But there was no such damage. The docking process started up without a hitch.
Kenzie matched the shuttle’s speed with the station’s rotation. The world turned around, and the outside view was reduced to that part of the hull that the ship had fixed onto, with a row of lights and bold black and white arrows.
“We’re scheduled to complete docking,” Kenzie said. “The airlock is opening. Everything seems to function as normal.”
“Are there any other ships in dock?” Jonathan asked.
“There is one shuttle. It belongs to the station.”
And because this was a research station and not a mining station, traffic off the station was not plentiful anyway.
In fact, by all accounts, people at the company’s headquarters had only become aware of the station’s silence when local mining vessels reported it. All samples were delivered to the station by drones and that process also still worked. It was only when results failed to appear that the company had attempted to raise a non-automated response.
And had not received one.
"Did either of you see anything unusual on the flyby?” Kenzie asked.
"Nothing," Gaby said. “All the lights are still on. It’s hard to believe there is anything wrong. The hull is intact, the docking system works, the lights are on. Nothing appears wrong.”
"I'm going in," Kenzie said.
Jonathan gave her the okay. He and Gaby had already put on their protective suits when they boarded the shuttle.
He checked his helmet and tank. He checked his breathing apparatus. He checked Gaby’s suit and tank and her breathing apparatus, while she cross-checked his.
With a click, the ship connected with the docking tube. As soon as the connection was made, Kenzie cut the engine and Jonathan and Gaby were pulled sideways, because the craft now came under the influence of the station’s rotation.
“That’s done,” Kenzie said. “We’re ready for your sortie.”
“Anything to report about the docking?” Jonathan asked.
“The umbilicals connect normally. The station’s vitals read as normal. Air pressure is normal. The program asked for sharing of air supply systems between the station and the ship. I’ve refused.”
They had agreed on this safety procedure on Jonathan’s insistence. If there was anything infectious at the station, they didn’t want to bring it back to the ship.
“No human contact?” Jonathan asked.
“None at all.”
“What’s the habitat like?”
Kenzie flicked through a few screens. “It seems relatively normal. CO2 is slightly elevated.”
Gaby glanced at Jonathan. That could mean all sorts of things, but it was unlikely to be anything good.
“We’re suiting up fully,” Jonathan said. It would be hot and cumbersome inside the corridors made to fit people in normal clothing, but better be safe than sorry.
He helped Gaby into her harness that would hold the tanks and lifted the helmet onto her head, after which she helped him.
“Here we go again,” she said, giving him a wry smile.
“We seem to attract this kind of work.” His voice sounded hollow inside the helmet.
Gaby signalled that the microphone worked.
The captain had suggested that they take someone else from the ship, but Jonathan had managed to convince him that wasn’t such a good idea.
People without training in infectious diseases were likely to do more damage than be of help.
And sadly he feared this was going to be one of those occasions where a disease had overtaken the station and utmost care was necessary.
Jonathan picked up his tanks and went to the ladder. Gaby helped him slot the tanks into the harness at his back, and then he did the same for her.
He climbed up the ladder and Gaby followed him. It was awkward in the suit. He rarely did any extravehicular activity, even if his position required him to keep his accreditation up.
Space was cold and empty, but it was hot and claustrophobic inside these suits. And the smell was very special indeed, no matter how much the inside was cleaned.
He pressed the release button on the inner airlock door. It opened with a hiss.
They both climbed into the airlock.
"I'll see you later," Kenzie said, before the inner hatch closed.
Jonathan gave her the thumbs up.
Chapter Two
& nbsp; The upstairs corridor was similar to the bottom floor, with doors to the side that opened into small rooms. Most of the doors stood open. The rooms contained workstations.
Here and there, a computer would still be on, a chair pushed back. A jacket might hang over the back of the chair, a coffee cup on the desk.
"It's as if all of them have just left," Gaby said through the loudspeaker in Jonathan’s helmet.
Jonathan relayed what they encountered to Kenzie. She, in turn, was in contact with the Transport Vessel Renae Stellaris, and Jonathan imagined that people in the ship’s communication centre would relay it to other important people in the company, who might be listening in from goodness knew where. Lora Station, probably, since that was the headquarters of Prosperity Mining.
They arrived in the station’s operational hub.
This was a light-filled room in a modern design that would have been quite homely if it wasn’t for the fact that it, too, was deserted.
Data scrolled over screens, but on one was there to watch it.
Jonathan walked from workstation to workstation, examining each for signs that something was off, and connecting his computer to do a data dump.
Everything looked as normal as he expected an abandoned station to be.
Even the recycling plant still functioned, albeit with some warnings.
The control centre was larger and better equipped than he would expect for a station this size. A special control panel section was dedicated to monitoring the receiving and processing of mining samples that happened in the uninhabited part of the station, and that, as far as Jonathan could see, were still being delivered by drones. These automated probes collected material from asteroids that showed promise for mining, and deposited the samples into a collection point.
Jonathan had heard some whisperings about these autonomous drones. Their artificial intelligence allowed them to seek out and explore without human intervention. The only human intervention that controlled them was the program that told them what to look for. The drones were equipped with digging implements, a small load of explosives, detonators, sensor equipment and everything they needed to explore the surface of a piece of space rock.
The screen showed the vehicles arriving at the station. Most were spindly things the size of a dinner table.
An icon in the corner of the screen flashed in red, Sample chute full.
He noticed something else.
“Hey Gaby, do you know that every movement of these drones is recorded and filmed?”
“Huh. Just so that they can check if their deliveries were on time?” Gaby had connected her computer with one of the workstations. The station’s resident database, he thought.
“I don’t know. It seems a bit excessive. Do we collect all those records, too?”
She shrugged. “If you have room. I doubt it’s a high priority, but someone on the ship might want it.”
Similarly the screen at the workstation that controlled the distribution of air flow reminded the absent operator that batteries were overdue for replacement and deterioration of air quality may occur.
He downloaded everything.
But whatever had happened and wherever the people were, it didn’t look like the command centre was abandoned in great panic, nor were there signs of a catastrophic failure.
With that data collected, they went deeper into the station.
“We’ll check if any of the emergency shutters have closed,” Jonathan said.
They walked along the length of the corridor.
In four different localities were sector doors that could be closed in case of a hull breach. There were signs across the hallway that warned not to place things in the area or to stand in the area, because in case of an emergency, the door would come out very quickly and significant injury could result.
Scratch significant injury. Jonathan had heard of people being decapitated by these doors.
But everywhere, the doors were still very much in their place inside the wall.
Gaby monitored the air quality while they walked. She said it had gotten worse and then better again. As far as Jonathan could see, even the recycling systems were still pumping out air. Stations like these were powered by solar panels and sometimes had a small reactor. Both could keep going for a long time without interference from humans.
In the past Jonathan had also seen what a corrupted recycling system looked like, and this was nothing like that.
Kenzie’s voice sounded in his helmet.
“Report requested. What is your status?”
“We’ve just left the control centre. We’re checking the sectors.”
“Have you found anyone yet?”
“No. We’re still checking.”
"You have fifteen minutes before you need to start heading back,” Kenzie said.
“I know.”
He caught up with Gaby, who stood looking into another room where unwatched data scrolled over a screen.
"I don't understand why everyone would have left their posts,” Gaby said. “It’s like they just went for a meeting and then never came back.”
“They have to be somewhere.” Jonathan checked his map.
Fifteen minutes was not enough time to go through the entire station.
“Is there a meeting room or canteen big enough to hold three hundred people?” Gaby asked.
“There is a canteen and a cinema on the bottom floor,” Jonathan said. “I don’t know if any of them are big enough. Let’s check there, as well as the school and recreational rooms. Then the sleeping quarters.”
“Yes,” Gaby said. “If there was an emergency, the inhabitants would have withdrawn to their cabins.”
They went down the two flights of stairs again.
First they passed a canteen and recreation rooms, all empty. A gym, empty, a health centre, empty. A tiny medical post, abandoned.
The corridor ran past the single classroom of the tiny school. All the tables were empty, with signs that work had been underway, although some of the screen desks appeared to have run out of battery.
And Jonathan and Gaby were running out of time.
Behind the school was the station’s cinema, storage rooms and a library and learning space. While Jonathan marked off each area that they had visited, Gaby checked the rooms. Sometimes she needed to open the door, but sometimes the door had a window.
So it happened that Jonathan had gone ahead when Gaby called him, her voice shaking.
“Jonathan, have a look in here."
Chapter Three
Gaby stood looking through a small window in a closed door, shining her light into the room.
Jonathan checked the map. It was the cinema, which also functioned as auditorium.
He looked over her shoulder.
The glass in the window could be darkened to stop too much light from the corridor entering the room. You had to put your nose to the window to be able to see in.
Gaby held up her light so that he could see, but the narrow field of vision and the darkness made for a confusing picture.
The small pool of light hit an object covered in fabric a few steps into the room. At first Jonathan couldn't see what it was, but then he recognised the type of overalls that lab assistants wore when working in crude materials labs. A trouser leg, with a boot attached. A trail of dark fluid ran onto the ground, collecting in a small puddle.
"Is that…” His voice trailed off.
It was obviously a dead body.
"Look.” Gaby moved the light so that they could see more of the room. In the narrow beam from the light, he spotted at least three other bodies.
He met Gaby’s eyes. Her expression looked just as horrified as he felt. “They’re all in here. All three hundred of them.”
“We have to go in,” Gaby said.
“We don’t have much time left.”
“Then we’ll have to come back later. We’ll have to go in now, even if only for a short time. Take photos.”
Photos was a good idea. He felt queasy.
Even though he’d seen plenty of death, every death was one too many, and one he’d been unable to prevent.
